#the revenant imagine

[silkysong]

my son egg and his brother cheese

[reds-skull]

CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

[quadrantadvisor]

Alright new Jason Todd headcanons in a dpxdc setting:

Danny is a "liminal" ghost, rather than a "half" ghost. He's alive and dead at the same time. (He's like Jesus Christ (in the church denomination I grew up in), fully ghost and fully human.) Danny, in human form, can go through a ghost shield, because he IS a living human.

Jason, however, is a reanimated corpse. He isn't a ghost, wouldn't have a ghost core, etc, he has a normal human system that runs ON ectoplasm. Jason CANNOT go through a ghost shield, because he is always an ectoplasmic entity. Danny can go through the Fenton Ghost Catcher and be split into a ghost and a human; if Jason went through the ghost catcher, he would straight up die.

(For my purposes I'm gonna say that Jason became an ectoplasmic entity upon his resurrection, but wasn't very stable. Dunking in the Lazarus pit stabilized his system but also poisoned his ectoplasm.)

I do think that Jason could learn certain ghost abilities if he learned to harness his ectoplasm, especially if they detoxed him off the Lazarus waters. He's probably already enhancing his stealth and strength in ways he hasn't really noticed. I think he's held back by the amount of physical matter he's lugging around, so maybe he couldn't fly, but I'm imagining temporary invisibility, or intagibility of like, a limb at a time. Maybe he can't walk through walls, but in a fight he can dodge by instinctively making the targeted part of his body intangible.

[starry-bi-sky]

for clone Danny, Clone Damian

I give you

Edit Clone Talia as somehow Girlfriend of Danny, just think of the comedy

nah brO BECAUSE LITERALLY I HAVE THOUGHT BOUT THAT. Literally since the conception of Clone Danny, I have thought about it. If only for, as you said, the COMEDY of it all. Plus I love writing romance.

Literally my motto for my aus is: A) is it plausible, B) is it FUNNY (and a secret third option C) is it ANGSTY)

Clone Talia would be an offshoot au of Clone^2 because idk how she'd fit into the original timeline, bUT, she'd exist. And to avoid confusion I'll call her Nasra - I thought about Tameka (which means twin) but I like Nasra better. "Talia and Nasra" just flows so nicely doesn't it?

Idk WHY there's a clone of Talia running around -- maybe the LoA made her, maybe n unknown organization who hates Batman and knows he has romantic ties to Talia, and started making a clone of her to fuck with him and then she got nabbed by a portal when she was still Danny's age and in the middle of training. She might be like Connor (??) and have memories and thus her training is more proficient than baby Dames.

Either way, regardless of how she was made, I think it's hilarious if she, much like baby Dames, immediately attacks Danny on sight. She falls into his city and Danny only has a moment to go "goddammit not agaIN" before he's fending off a very confused, very violent Nasra. Fortunately he's able to actually try and talk to her and be at least somewhat successful -- Nasra knows english. although even if she didn't, Danny would still be somewhat successful since he knows Arabic.

Also Bruce and Danny are the battinson bat because i think that is also hilarious and 'wet rat' is STILL the perfect energy for Danny as Phantom - especially in the early days when he's running around in all but jeans and a hoodie. (and god watch me go on a rant in a separate post about his outfit and reasonings for being Phantom when he has no powers later on because it makes me go FERAL. and his active choice to look as inhuman and ghost-like through his behavior as phantom and the decision to wear such a creepy mask as possible)

(like seriously, imagine walking home late at night while danny was still in his early vigilante days (and even now when he's got damian and a better suit) and seeing a skinny figure in the shadows with sunken in black-and-glowing-green eyes, and a bone white, skull-like face, crouched on all fours like a wild animal about to pounce. THAT is the level of creepiness I was going for for clone danny)

In my head, Sam offers to house Nasra and Nasra stays with her. SAm is able to convince her parents to let her stay, or she pulls a Danny and just straight up smuggles her in and her parents are none the wiser. I also think it's funny if they have unspoken BEEF with each other. Only to later become like sisters. Nasra teaches Sam the martial arts she knows, and also Danny joins in too with Damian because goddamn he needs it even IF he's learning stuff from his mom (as per the most recent snippet post I made).

OH AND DAMIAN AND NASRA. I think it's equally as funny if they ALSO have beef with each other. Nasra is a clone of his mother (of whom he might have complicated views on due to being a clone but still is his mother) and Damian is a clone of Nasra's "son". This beef largely starts from Damian's own refusal to want to share his Danny with another clone, especially with a clone of his MOTHER.

Danny and Nasra don't become lovers for a good, long while I think. They're besties first before they even consider the idea of dating -- not only just because of the whole "uhhh our counterparts dated so it'd feel kinda weird and forced if we dated" and also because Nasra, with her newfound freedom, is busy trying to figure out herself.

A big theme here in clone^2: discovering your identity and who you are as a person when the only thing you own that's unique is your name (which isn't even the case for Damian), and figuring out if your choices are your own or because you're a clone and its something your original would have done. Nature vs Nurture and the illusion of choice and whether it really is one or not.

Also Nasra also becomes a vigilante. Danny appreciates the help but is also tearing out his hair because what the fuck is up with these assassins and becoming vigilantes?! Nasra goes by "Nesha". She's similar to Red Huntress at first where she kinda does her own thing, but is lowkey forced to team up with Danny about it because she doesn't have any proper ghost hunting equipment with her.

And then a duo becomes a trio, and Danny is spending more time with her. And they steadily become friends. Very snarky friends who are very bratty to each other, but friends. Damian still doesn't like her so Danny spends extra time during patrol keeping the two of them from making insults at each other.

"Nesha please stop fighting with a nine year old. Wraith, quit insulting Nesha."

Nasra also uses like, weaponry as Nesha which exasperates Danny a little because why are you using swords??? They're already dead its not gonna kill them,,,, If you cut off their heads its just gonna piss em off, its re-attachable. Let him ghost-proof it first too. But well, its still gonna HURT he supposes. He's still a little exasperated.

And MMM i'm sorry lmao im so focused on Nasra becoming her own person than the actual romance aspect of it all. Nasra cuts her hair short for the same/similar reasons that Danny keeps his long - to try and gain a semblance of autonomy and identity that's away from their original. Danny has his alternative rock-kinda geeky look and Nasra's got, from influence from Sam, a more alternative fashion style. Although she still leans into being feminine, which is a good challenge to Sam's belief that feminity = bad, and gets her to unlearn those bad habits since her new adoptive sister is feminine while still being an unapologetic badass.

And ykw I think Nasra gets into rollerblading and loves it. She rollerblades constantly. Damian is furious because skating is his thing (even if what he gets later on is a skateboard - skater boy damian ftw. i can see him wearing flannels and graphic tees as a teenager. very grungy/skater aesthetic. He also has a much more relaxed and teen-y speech pattern compared to DW's more formal way of talking. He also spray paints as his form of artistic medium.) and he refuses to have Nasra be a copy of him.

They will sort out their differences eventually. LMao.

Anyways they eventually do get together, but not before Danny finally has his run in with Mister Wayne. Which, they only meet because Danny starts destabilizing, and thus needs Bruce Wayne's DNA to help stabilize himself. Which that meeting in and of itself is pretty chaotic on its own, but then add clone Damian and Nasra? Bruce needs coffee.. or alcohol.

Because picture this: its late at night, you're on patrol with the rest of your family. It's like, two in the morning. You suddenly get a call in from your butler, Alfred, informing you that not one, not two, but THREE children -- two of them in their late teens and the other one not even ten yet -- showed up on your doorstep. One of them is unconscious. They are all clones.

The girl and the boy are twins - and are clones of YOU - and the girl isn't even technically YOUR clone she's a clone of your clone - and also this clone of you is your college friends' kid. And then the youngest boy is a clone of your youngest SON. Bruce is running across rooftops when he gets this call and does a literal 180 degree turn and touches the ground because he basically did a figure skating turn, and sprints back towards the manor because what the fuck? He needs to check this out.

And then half a day later a clone of your fucking ex shows up on your doorstep demanding to see the clone of you - the boy that is, not the girl - and then immediately gets into a verbal lashing with the clone of your son. Like what a fucking DAY. Your kids are equally as baffled but also laughing their asses off -- except your bio son, who is very unhappy about this turn of events and keeps getting the stink eye from his clone.

Like??? I'd quit right then and there.

While Danny recovers he's staying in Wayne manor and Damian is very reportedly not leaving his side. Ellie has to leave to help take care of Amity Park with RH, and then Nasra is also very determinedly not leaving his side either. This is her friend dammit. The first thing she does when he becomes lucid is insult him, and he insults her back - they're bantering. It's how they flirt later on. None of the Bats know how to deal with this situation.

[boobav]

Sanguine

Revenant x Reader

content: angsty & smutty drabble, I guess a happy ending?

word count: 1k

He could offer you nothing.  

During dark hours where his metal hands slithered along your body is when he felt this realisation most deeply. He could give you no warmth, no child- he couldn't even kiss you. Kaleb wasn't even sure if he could love you, a simple thing to most, but to him, one who hadn't felt the touch of such a thing during centuries of life, he wasn't sure at all. 

And yet, time and time again, you came to him.  

You pressed hot kisses against this face forced upon him and sighed in content at each one. His fingers knead the flesh of your hip as you straddle him in his plain, undecorated room, and he listens as your heart thrums quick and hard between your ribs. He undoes your shirt buttons deftly and hums as your hands move to cup his face.  

He was vile. He was the villain in countless stories, the shadow waiting in the dark; he'd told you so countless times. Months upon months piled up like paperwork, but for some reason, you continued to disregard his verbal attacks and senseless force. You stayed, a thorn in his side that continued to remind him that he was still much too human. When he fucks you like a man starved, he finds himself yearning for his long-dead body, for his blue eyes and smooth voice, not for himself, but for you. So you could be normal, you could be warm, and safe, and content. So you could feel more than steel and rage with your gentle touch. 

He brushes his unmoving, metal lips over your neck as your shirt is thrown across the room. He knows that you'll leave him- of course you will. As he helps you discard your shorts, he thinks, and he knows. How could you ever be content with a monster? With a monster who lacks every desirable aspect of humanity, with a monster who can't mutter out I love you, even when it weighs down on his fake tongue and strangles him with its twisting fingers.

And as he enters you, silicone and steel, he knows he will never be enough. No amount of metal can recreate what you need, what you deserve. His hands squeeze your thighs as he fucks up into you, carnally, face shoved into the crook of your neck to stifle his own noises as you moan his name, his real name, and he thinks of what a sick joke his life is; he holds perfection in his hands, he hears it cry his lost name, but he will never be enough. 

"Are you okay?" Your voice comes out breathy, broken, and Kaleb stills within you. You bring a hand to his face, guiding it away from your neck. Of course, you could decipher nothing from his expression, for it never changed, still as the mountains no matter the situation. But you could tell from his silence that something was bothering him behind those yellow eyes.  

"Yeah." Is all he says, and leans in, waiting for you to press a warm kiss against his cold lips. And you do, humming as he moves his hips again, slowing the pace slightly.  

You want to prod; you want to beg him for his real thoughts. But getting those out of Kaleb was nigh impossible. Rarely, on a cool summer night stargazing, something about his past or present turmoil will spill from his lips, and you cherish it, you love his words because you love him. But you knew that pushing him for vulnerability was a mistake, no matter how much your heart hurt for him.  

And he knew he was stupid. He knew that he was ruining the one good thing in his pathetic life by not opening up, by fucking you and pretending there was nothing to it besides lust. His eyes are trained on you as you throw your head back with a moan; he eyes the bead of sweat rolling down your neck, he eyes your lips, your closed eyes, the curve of your nose. He feels the ghost of his heart flutter and thump with humanity, and he hates it.  

He hates it because he knows, deep down in the pitiful thing he calls a soul, he knows that you will leave him. He knows that this will not last, that the butterflies in his chassis that swarm when he sees you will die, because you will realise that he can offer you nothing. He shoves his face back into your neck as he cums, mechanical hips stuttering against your bruised skin, a synthesised groan of both ecstasy and agony crawling from his throat.  

You drag him down into bed with you, and unlike every other time, you are met with no resistance. You cling to his metal frame like ivy, sighing at all the words left unsaid that linger in the air, making it stale and unbreathable.  

"Kaleb?" You ask with a nervous lilt.  

"Hm?" His hum sounds somehow exhausted.  

"You know I'd never leave you, right?"  

"I know. You tell me this every day." He wants to slam his head against the wall for responding to your sincerity with sarcasm. Yet, despite your constant statements, he can't bring himself to believe you- because he knows better. He knows that eventually you'll run off. As soon as you get a taste of the humanity absent in Kaleb through someone else, you will leave. It'll fill your lungs and pump through your heart like fire, and you'll be wondering why you wasted your time on him at all.

But, even so- as you mumble against his chest and hold him somehow tighter, he can't crush that fluttering of hope inside him that maybe...  

Maybe you won't leave.

[spookberry]

a little bonus to my Haunted Redesigns, here's Principle Revenant!

[ilsanslut]

NEW CHARACTER AI BOTS + UPDATE!

for those of you who do not care about my page update, and wish to directly view the bots i've posted, please venture beneath the cut. bot requests are currently open.

hiii everyone, vampiie here! since it's my final semester of classes before i can get my license, uni has really been kicking my ass as of late. however, in december, things are coming to a close and in the following weeks i should i have more time to write and produce new content for all of you.

unfortunately, i am not taking fic requests at the moment, and the fic requests i did have will be put on hold until i can produce the following fic: TREAT YOU BETTER PT.2 FT SAE + RIN ITOSHI. (shameless plug for you to click here if you want to read it btw teehee) the reason for this, is because my motivation for writing has just begun to come back to me and i don't want to burn myself out before i can produce this promised content to you all. also, THANK YOU FOR 1.1K FOLLOWERS???? HELLO???? (i don't monitor who follows me like most people so some of yall are probably bots but-) HOLY SHIT?? truthfully, i never thought i would ever hit that high of a number for my following on tumblr and i'm truly grateful for all of the support on my fics, bots, and blog. i truly do love yall SEVERELY. ♡

and now for the content a majority of you a probably here for, my C.AI bots! here are my latest bots nagi seishiro, sukuna, and revenant now available for your roleplaying endeavors. hope you enjoy and happy simping! ♡

DIRECT LINKS TO BOTS:

nagi one rev one rev two sukuna one sukuna two sukuna three

you can find my c.ai profile by clicking the following link, my c.ai username is vampiieluv!

if the direct link does not work for whatever reason, try copying and pasting it into your browser as there is a bit of a known problem with certain c.ai links not linking directly to the app.

also, bot requests are OPEN. please refer to my RULES and FANDOMS before requesting a bot. thank you! (´ ω `♡)

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

I was wondering, since Rev has Six and the other prowlers he takes care of, what would he think of a Legend S/o who takes care of Prowlers, Spiders and Flyers for the games? Like they own some and they usually go to World’s Edge, Kings Canyon and Storm Point before they are in Rotation to check on the animals and they all really really like s/o when they drop by.

Okay I sort of took the vibes of this and absolutely ran with it. This is basically a plot point skeleton for a first book in a multi-book fanfiction at this point:

You never noticed Revenant between games before, as Bloodhound was always more your pace with a commonality in caring for beasts, until one day you were running behind.

The Flyers were upset that day, as were the Spiders. You ended up having to spend way more time to feed both, and you didn't even get a chance to get close to them in order to check their condition.

By the time you reached the Prowlers, you understood why.

Nothing quite like a 6'7" tall metal maniac holding a young, injured dinosaur like a beloved puppy to get you to pay attention.

He was not pleased to see you.

He was immediately accusatory: why weren't you there sooner? Something about how bad this could have been, and how he can't stand the use of prowlers as fodder for entertainment, and that they deserve care or to be let go.

Oddly enough, you agree with the oversized villain character of the Apex Games.

You interrupt him to ask what exactly is wrong, since it needs to be addressed immediately.

"Blood scale" is no sooner uttered than you jumping over the prowler in his arms to try to find the lethal bleed.

He shoves you away, and you hear him say it.

"I took care of it, skinbag."

He... he did?

He flicks a bloody, hollow scale in your direction. Most of the blood has drained, but it clearly was a blood scale.

You spent eight years in school to become a veterinarian with a focus on neozoology and exotic animals, became a specialist in some of the most dangerous fauna on this side of the Outlands, and pushed the present understanding of medical knowledge on these species youself just for some simulacrum at work to "take care of it" himself.

He reels back a bit as you stare at him, letting the prowler leap from his arms while panting happily, letting it's tongue loll out.

After that encounter, Revenant could not escape your notice, much to his annoyance for a few months.

You would seek him out to present questions about prowlers aloud near him, much like you would with Caustic for the spiders. Like Caustic, Revenant would often sigh loudly in frustration while answering the complex question like it was elementary knowledge.

He became an invaluable resource.

Caustic never came around to liking you, but Revenant got used to you.

Finally, Revenant would start "appearing" when you would make your usual rounds to the battlefields' prowler dens.

You are surprised to find that Revenant's presence does not upset the prowlers, but rather calms them down.

He started by just watching you take care of the prowlers: taking blood labs, treating small injuries, providing meat fortified with necessary vitamins and minerals, administering basic medicines to the sick, and tagging newborns for tracking.

Then you tried checking on a prowler with a broken leg, which would usually call for careful euthanasia due to how dangerous it can be if the prowler lashes out in pain.

You thought you could help, but trying to set the leg proved too painful.

The bite would have killed you instantly, if it reached you.

Revenant took the bite with his own body, holding the snout in place around his leg to give you time to set the break, splint it, and hard cast it.

He began stepping in to help you after that, and it became an unacknowledged standard for you to give the prowlers better and more in-depth care in exchange for his invulnerablility, knowledge, and strength.

It started to become the best part of your job.

You began getting to the prowlers first, and spending a bit longer with them.

Eventually, he started following you to take care of the flyers and spiders too, although he clearly was a bit more out of his depth in those situations.

He was able to adjust to the flyers fairly easily, but the spiders and him seem to have a respectful hatred of one another.

The spider eggs are no problem for him, and even freshly hatched spiders do not affect him much; but the massive, drop-ship sized adults are a different story.

Given their venom is caustic and turns his body to a rusting, oxidizing mess: fair enough. You agree with him, but moreso because of the fangs that are almost as tall and wide as you.

Thankfully, so long as they're well-fed and it's the daytime, they don't have much interest in you.

Revenant, however...

If the spiders become aware of Revenant, they will either threat pose at him until he backs away or gently approach him to reach for him.

He's not fond of the latter behavior, likely because he's not fond of having younger, smaller males trying to attach a spawning web to him.

It's funny, to watch his smaller frame hiding in a crevasse from a massive spider who has mistaken him for a possible mate.

Revenant rapidly became the prettiest (and most docile) bachelorette at the ball, likely on account of not killing and eating the males like the females normally would.

At the same time, he plays the hardest to get, leaving you snickering back at the dropship to handle paperwork.

He hates it, obviously, but he sticks around anyway.

Finally, one time a male managed to attach a ball of spawning silk to him, and that was the first time you got to help Revenant back.

Back at the facility, after a very uncomfortable and sticky ride back from Storm Point, you were able to carefully use acetone and a paint scraper to get the webbing off of him.

Revenant was about as cooperative as the prowlers, growling and complaining with each long scrape.

Some of his paint comes off with the webbing, but he doesn't seem to care so long as his evidence of being the target of a male spider's love and affection is gone.

You promise in the privacy of his living space that you won't tell anyone about it, and thank him for always being around to help you

He immediately shoots down your thanks verbally, insisting it means nothing to him

"As long as the prowlers are taken care of, I don't give a damn"

He mumbles about wishing they weren't a part of the Apex Games, right as you scrape off the last clump of webbing

He tries to get up to leave, but you stop him to wipe him down with acetone, just to be sure the adhesive slime isn't lingering.

He's sticky beyond compare, and the acetone-soaked rag strips off paint with the adhesive.

You have to carefully hit every crevasse to clean, which rapidly reveals he's...

Ticklish?

As the paint is stripped from the metal plating, Revenant contorts, jerks, huffs, and gasps randomly as you gently rub the rims and edges of his chassis.

He's clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable, causing you to instinctively apologize while insistently cleaning him.

He reminds you of most of your patients: large, able to kill you in a single motion, and yet vulnerable in some way.

And that's when you got fully attached to sticking close to him.

He invited you to sleep on his couch for the first time, especially as long as it took to finish cleaning him.

You insisted you "couldn't" because you needed to stay up until he was fully taken care of, which included repainting the stripped areas.

Honestly, you were completely exhausted and not all there at that point, but he let you help him repaint his chassis.

Between the paint fumes, sleep deprivation, and exhaustion, you passed out in his room.

After that night, Revenant wouldn't stop sticking to your side. You caught his attention, and you weren't getting away from him.

[danddymaro]

By Choice | Revenant x Fem reader

How dufuk dat Totem work. Also obv this is before his Rework. Daddy didn't need no fancy shmancy work to be HIM.

Word count: 3528

By Choice

Your first encounter with teh simulacrum was something you hardly forget, and you constantly think of given how different a dynamic you now have.

It leaves you in awe, and he shares the same feeling, unable to understand how a single person can mean so much.

The tanned-skinned woman offers you a stern look, a mix of pity and spite facing you as you look at her with happy eyes that have yet to understand the shift in mood.

She'd just offered you words of encouragement, even if they held playful tease, but now as she looked at you, she seemed rather sour.

-All to your confusion.

"Loba?" you say with uncertainty, your face showing just how concerned you are.

She seemed to have regretted speaking to you in the first place, and the truth was, she'd rather forget who you were now because it wouldn't make sense to remember someone who wouldn't last.

At your address, she tried to force a smile, an unconvincing one that made your earlier valor slack. For whatever reason you felt less confident about your debut.

"It's nothing dear," she said with that same unconvincing curve to her lips.

It took you a moment to understand why, and You didn't have to ask why her expression had changed as you then turned and followed her line of vision, soon looking at the banner next to yours.

'Oh...'

-To think you'd be paired with the synthetic nightmare on your first match as an Apex Legend.

For a prolonged second, you stared at the banners with wide eyes, in disbelief before another contender approached, coincidentally the same who'd be your teammate.

Loba practically sneers as your partner makes his way towards you, sizing you down as you stare back at him with a sternness that wavers the closer he comes.

She doesn't stay long after that, and she doesn't even bother to tell you anything more either, all of which you overlook as you are more concerned with the bot's presence.

You swallow down thickly as your heart speeds and aches in pain, uncertain of what is to come, feeling unfortunate that not only would you have to watch out for potential enemies, but consider your partner a possible hostile too.

To say the least, you were on edge the entire time and were relieved to part ways after. Even if there had been nothing truly eventful about your match other than him shoving you out of the way a couple times.

You clenched your fist each time but bit back saying anything more than a short huff the second time it happened.

You were glad it was over, much more that you came back in one piece. But luck would have it that you'd find yourself working with him more than once, so much that you wondered if it was fate.

You wondered if there was something you couldn't escape waiting for you at the simulacrum's side.

'maybe death,' you mused darkly at first.

-That or the games were somehow rigged.

Though, you pondered if your fate was as horrifying as you had initially thought given how you no longer felt threatened by him.

He was a dick to you, but even his attitude began to ease as time passed, and so did yours.

He went from disliking you, to simply ignoring you....to suddenly being pleasant, earning your favor, something that wouldn't have been too difficult from the beginning.

'Maybe he just takes some warming up,' you mused with relief at your newfound partnership, finding things worked better when he actually considered your plans.

-And from pleasant, he went to confusing.

.

.

.

' Alluring little thing,' he constantly thinks so. 

He regularly observes you, memorizing your every movement, even the most subtle breaths that leave you.

He regularly keeps track of your heartbeat and does so with the same tranquility one would find with the sound of gentle music. 

He's keen on the existing twinkles in your eyes throughout the day, under different lighting, and inspired by different emotions. 

It's all so interesting to him.

You are interesting.

The fixation he has for you digs deep, further than anything else he's ever felt, bypassing the searing wrath that has, until then been his only drive.

Unscathed, he made his way towards you, his long legs reaching you in short strides.

"You came back..." you say with relief, the words leaving you in a low breath. You sure are surprised, he can tell by the way your eyes look at him as though the sight of him is the last thing you'd thought to catch.

-Especially with how he reacted just before he stalked off after your earlier spat about strategies

And you beam as a result, unknowingly letting him know just how much it meant that he turned back.

Before long, slowly his hand fell to your face, the back of his fingers gently drawing down your moistened cheek as you'd just crawled away from the water you'd fallen into during your last scuffle.

Blood gently grazes his affectionate digits, and while he's familiar with the feeling, it's not quite as tantalizing as it's always been.

-And it's been an issue with you lately that he can't seem to understand, or express.

Instead, it's an oddly hollow feeling he feels, even if it's nothing more than a scratch that's marked your face.

Realizing that your pain brings him no pleasure is strange and bothersome, but he doesn't voice his new discovery. Instead, he masks it, pulling back his hand too for being so impulsive.

Why has touching you become such an obsession?

-He burns to know.

"hn...Get up," he demands while helping you up, pulling you by the arm after giving you a quick heal.

Your legs scramble to find ground as he quickly pulls you to him faster than you can gather your thoughts or try getting up on your own.

Though, throughout the trip, you had newfound vigor.

Because If he came back there had to be a reason. He had to find you useful, and you wouldn't disappoint. You'd show the simulacrum that you were just as worthy of a contender, an equal partner that wasn't going to be a commodity like he'd stated before he left you earlier.

As snappy as his words are, you only huff with triumph, nodding, looking at him the entire time with that little twinkle in your eye.

However, as soon as he helped you up, your breath paused and that little spike in courage was forgotten.

You lean close to him as a consequence of his gruff pull, for a second lingering as you look up at him and put on an uncertain face, curious of him as he is of you. 

-At least, that's what he would like to imagine; That you are just as interested in him as he is in you.

It's considered, and For whatever reason he stays there by you, silent.

You lick your lips, subtly, not at all seductive, yet all the same, looking alluring as you offer him eyes that question him for every one of his actions that seem so unlike him.

For instance, his persisting hold that has gone from your arm to your side.

A single hand stays there and he watches as you direct your pretty eyes down to the side it resides after looking away from his own sight.

As of late, he's gotten closer throughout every interaction, and you've noticed.

'What's he doing?' You want to ask him, but you feel embarrassed too, silly too.

'He's a robot....well, Simulacrum,' you think with correction. 'Aren't they... somewhat human? At one point wasn't he?' You don't know what to think, but as you remember that, a part of you feels happy.

Something in you warms at the idea of there existing a part of him that holds the emotional capacity you do...that could somehow understand what it is that you are feeling at that very moment.

And your skin tingles as he takes the tiniest step forward while still gripping your hip.

'It's silly right?' you wonder, 'What should I do?' you wonder without direction.

While lost in thought, your hand rises, instinctually drawn to him, but he stops you midway by breaking the moment with a step driven back.

He has to peel himself away from you, being the first to move as he advises you to heal while turning to face east, and you are grateful he does.

It's not like you wanted him to draw distance, but at least he saves you the embarrassment by looking elsewhere.

'Maybe it's for the best,' You think.

"That's where we're heading," he tells you while marking the map,  and he threatens to leave you behind again while waiting, eyeing you to make sure you're prepared to move, not missing the way you can't meet his gaze.

-Observant to how you seem to smile as you look at anything but him, even if it's not entirely joy-filled. There's a touch of something more but he can hardly catch it as you do your best to hide your face.

Though, occasionally you slip, and it's adorable as you try and peek at him, much more when you pretend it's not what you wanted.

It's not just enchanting how you look, but why you look that way. 

And he's insistent on being the one to cause those reactions, on being the only one you show those precious responses to. 

He feels scorned when anyone else can make you happy.

it's sickening at first how much he craves you. It's humiliating to him how he needs to point you to him instead, though, it's watered down when you seem to need less and less of a pull.

it's satisfying when you seek him, when you stop looking at him with question, and merely act on the same instinct he has when near you.

As his hand falls over your cheek, you stand surprised, your eyes peeled wide as his fingers move in soft caresses.

'It's just like before...' you think back to when he'd first done so, to that moment so many weeks ago. 

You'd thought about it so much, nearly obsessed over it, and just how excited you felt no matter how hard you tried to pretend it didn't happen.

Your eyes flutter close, acceptant to his cold touch.

Soon, you become eased into the act, expectant of it, and he loves the way your eyes flutter close, taking in a long breath to enjoy the moment like it's an otherwordly pleasure.

The more he repeats the act, the closer he feels you, and before long there's less uncertainty. 

Now, he's amused at knowing the touch of his razor-sharp claws can cause you serenity. Furthermore, it's something you need from him as you become bold, taking his kind hand, cradling it in your own as you lead it to your face and offer him sweet eyes and a pout that fills him with the slightest guilt for making you wait.  

Never before would he have thought he'd succumb to a simple look, much less one as bratty as the one you pull.

These were the kinds of things he'd see people do and scoff at... How is it that he's now just one in the mass of these annoying, unbearable skinbags?

Curiosity led to experimentation which, opened the path to a routine that brought forth a side of him he forgot existed. 

It'd been lifetimes ago since he'd felt the insistency to touch anyone so softly, or even be the recipient of such a feeling.

He soon becomes content with his own fill of affection, moving on without any address.

In a sense, it's like a kiss to you, an 'I've missed you' without words, moreso when it's been longer than a few hours apart.

-And that's another thing, he can't stay away.  

It's not long before you pay him back with the same gentle touches, enamored by his every edge and smooth plating, an idea he thought impossible. 

He feels almost naked sometimes, far too much, and while it's overwhelming at times, he doesn't tell you to stop or urge you back.

Knowing that he can also fill you with desire makes him feel alive, existent in a realm he's made of something more than wires and programming.  

And one day he pushes further, coming down to your lips, pressing his own.

There's no movement from his mouth, and yet you press your soft one to his, pretending there is flesh there.

Your unbothered behavior sends him to the moon as you hold his hands, passionate in the lasting kiss.

He can feel it, your lips on his, the warmth and devotion in what you offer.

Somehow...can you?

'Can a machine love?' Noxx has dared to ask, and even if his genuine curiosity holds obnoxious condescension, it's made Revenant wonder. 

-Enough to ask you. 

Your eyes open wide, and you look at him with stupefaction.

"W-why do you..." you can hardly ask without stumbling over your words, and he noted your heart is fighting to jump out of your chest, it's restless as it races.

it stills when his fingers catch your chin, holding it there delicately as you continue to lay beneath him, caged down by his outstretched arm.  

"You're a smart girl," he compliments because he truly does find you fascinating, even if he teases you.

He considered your thoughts worthy of contemplation, even the silly ones.

" What do you think?" he wants to know.

He wants you to speak the possibility into reality, because if you say so, then he's willing to believe. 

He doesn't love himself enough to consider being happy, but if you, as fascinating and wonderful as you are tell him it's possible, then he has no doubt. 

he feels something in him sinking as your eyes hold back tears, and he prepares himself for the worst, nearly certain that somehow this has all been too good. 

"If I can love one... I'd hope he could feel the same for me," you say as you offer him a smile, a soft one he wants to call his and keep safe. 

"If I can say I love you and be sure of it, even when I feel so afraid - could you admit it to me too?" you're begging, because you're at the point of no return, and his question feels like a make it or break it moment. 

'Are you capable of that?' you think with worry.

The uncertainty in the question he asks fills you with worry because you know what you feel for him. You love Revenant and were sure every step you'd taken together was one taken with love from both sides. 

' Or is this when you tell me... when you show me your true self?'

It filled you with dread to think that this was somehow a game of his, that he was truly evil and treacherous.

it's been on your mind for a while,

 

'Silly little Girl... you're nothing more than a game to him.' Revenant's voice echoed in your head, startling you.

You thought it had been your teammate at first, that Revenant had found his way to you already, but that hadn't been the case. You couldn't see him anywhere, and you wondered if you'd imagined the voice at first.

The sound of static occasionally fell in the background and you pressed your lips thinly wondering why your comms were failing.

"Rev... I can't hear you," you try to communicate with your partner, though, getting nothing back but choppy static.

Laughter surrounded you, and you grew weary of it.

It sounded just like Revenant, and the more he spoke, the less you were sure it was just your imagination.

"What's happening?" you thought with uncertainty, feeling sick.

There was only one thing you could think of, but you were unsure because this hadn't happened the last time you'd used his Totem. it was nothing similar.

'Poor little skinsuit...' He murmured.

' - used as just some entertainment in between matches where he can do what he actually loves,' he persists, and you had to bite back.

"That's not true," you start with annoyance that soon deters the longer he repeats the words, the more he continues to taunt you. It feels as though you'd been listening to him for an eternity, wearing down your will.

Ignoring him hadn't worked, but it seemed that arguing back was worse.

Laughter follows as a retort before he speaks again, 

'It's what he was made for, It's ALL he is.' 

The words are spat out, sharp, and sinister.

Just as you find refuge, you look down at your hands, and your breath comes out short and quick, as the air feels sparse. 

"he's not like that, " you say as you look down at your empty palms covered in black smoke. "I thought he was, but he's not." you continue. 

'Revenant, He's gentle... soft.

he's different with me...' You tried to remember that.

"he's different," you voice.

'ooh?' coos the voice, 'different you say?' he asks.

'I see he's got you all worked up with his fingers. You're familiar with them, but have you ever seen them painted red? Don't you know that same hand has sliced through more hearts than your little one could ever bear?'

"I know already, what he's done... what he is," you say.

'Do you? ' He asks with doubt.

'Do you think he's a victim? that he's some poor, trapped soul?' He asked with scrutiny.

'Aren't you sweet... you pity him don't you?' he asked with amusement.

'you want to save him, right?' he persisted with the same sneer.

'Well let me tell you something, he's earned his place in this hell! No one forced him to be the monster he is! he's made killings far before he was trapped in that body.' He informed you, making you bite your lip down harshly.

'Did he tell you that? of course not, he hasn't even told you his real name, has he?' he asked confidently.

"When he's ready he'-" Your voice died when he interrupted you.

'He knows your every secret while giving you nothing but breadcrumbs.

Sweet, sweet (f/n). 

You trusted the wrong person again, didn't you?' he sang as your vision blurred, and you had to admit that stung.

Just the idea...

'That's right...' Revenant's voice starts as your face slowly falls into bleak realization. 

'And you were so easy...' he added with a chuckle, 'All he had to do was offer you a little petting, like a dog. 

he hardly did anything before you leaned in for more, ' and you recall it. 

'Were you that touch starved?' he asked with mock pity.

At that, you closed your eyes tight, and you shook, denying it.

'Love me! love me! Oh please! Look at me! Please, someone love me!

- Pathetic!' The sound of laughter made you shrink. 

' Even in this dimension, you're pathetic,'  he said with a cackle.

His words continued until Familiar hands took a grasp at your shoulders, holding you tight and making you open your eyes in shock, a strangled breath leaving you. 

Revenant, your Revenant in his physical form looked down at you, and as his hands squeezed you, you came to with a start. 

"What the hell did you do?" the question came out irate and nasty as he stared at your shaky form, his voice making you flinch as you continued to stare at him with surprised eyes that soon filled with fright. 

'This is who he is, All he is....' the voice said before it became quieter, leaving you with nothing but doubt. 'Remember that when he touches you...'

You could only shake your head in denial, not knowing what you were trying to wash your hands of exactly. 

Meanwhile, You shook in his hold, and that very expression you couldn't wipe away had him unsettled, 

"What did he tell you?" it was the only question he could ask, and you couldn't answer him. 

Your voice refused to work, nothing but a small sound came out before you took a frantic step back. 

He noticed and pulled you back, his hands refusing to let go. the ends of his digits dug deep into your arms, the grasp becoming aching enough to make you wince. 

"Answer me!" his anxiousness deepened through his words and the desperate way he held you.  

As you looked up at him, truly gazed at him you remembered how scared you'd been when you first met him, and why.

You recalled one thing: that after all, he was meant for killing.

How could you forget?

'He's right, at least about one thing,' you thought with dismay as the step you took back returned, the foot falling back to its earlier place after he restrained you. 

The haunting voice had been right because you can't fight back. even if you had the strength to pry him off, you had no will to draw further.

'it is pathetic...'

Where else could you run to?

there was nowhere else you wanted to go, no other arms you sought for refuge.

-Because you loved him.

And it was the first time you truly admitted it.

Soon, you clung to him, needing to hold him, having a desperation to feel his arms coiling around you. 

You'd wondered what it'd be like, and it was as serene as you'd expected, offering you a comfort no one else could.

'Even if this is a game to you, give me more time, let me enjoy this more.'

"Shut up..." your voice stayed soft as you pressed your cheek close to him, " Please... please shut up," 

His voice was no comfort to you right now, especially not when it melted with the vicious one from earlier and you begged him to stay silent. 

But you wanted him close.

"Just hold me... touch me... don't let me go...Rev, "

"Stupid little skinsuit," he muttered, still annoyed, though complying with a gradual approval. 

He hadn't imagined you'd ever lean on him the way you were now, so desperately.

"I warned you," he really wanted to scold you, because he told you not to touch his totem, that it was only his to enter. 

There was a reason for his forewarning.

The longer he'd been with you, and the more he was starting to feel for you, the more unbearable it became to go through it, and he just knew it'd be a true nightmare for you. 

His lips grazed the crown of your head, gently pressing down, 'How could I resist?' he wondered, his earlier fury settled.

'Especially when you cling to me like this...'

Though, he insisted on knowing what you were told. It would take some digging, but he'd figure it out. But later, because at that moment, you were more important, comforting you was his only objective.

"Do you love me?" you ask him with that soft tone to your voice that has him feeling sparked with something vibrant.

"Because I love you, " you say while you lean close, and he comes down to try and meet you. His hand shifts to hold your cheek, marveling at the delicate skin and how there's a touch of flush to it.

One of your arms is draped over his shoulder, fingers scrunching the red cloth that covers the back of his head whist your other hand is pressed to his chest.

"Revenant? Do you feel something for me? Something similar?Anything?"

He's always been fascinated by your heart, and he wishes you could feel something beneath your palm. He wishes you could feel how much his heart would be speeding at your confessions and the sensual way you peer at him.  

" I feel you mine," is what he first says, marveling at your sight.

"And only you have my mercy," he tells you, as his fingers brush your cheek. Without much thought you turn your head, your lips aimed to brush over his hand.

Successfully, you land a kiss before looking up at him with eyes dimmed with yearning.

"You have what no one else has, or ever will," he says with certain.

"And what's that?" you ask softly.

"- Me." he answers simply.

"My devotion, and conscious loyalty," he affirms. "Something no one, not even Hammond will take from me again," he swore to you and himself.

"With you, I'm a puppet by choice," he said while nuzzling his face to your neck, and as strange as it may be those words meant much more than a simple I love you.

From Revenant, their meaning was profound.

There was a knot in your throat, and to save yourself from what would be choked words you pressed your lips to his, finding your own way to translate the Phrase.

'I love you too...'

[imtrashraccoon]

What is your DreamTale accident story/headcanons for The Dark Fortress? I'm just curious about it because I couldn't find anything on that topic on your blog accept for the romantic headcanons in Donovan's part but it was pretty vague.

I'll be honest, I never put a lot of thought into this as I wasn't really planning on writing much more for The Dark Fortress. I may have had an idea when I wrote it but I don't really remember much. Although, I did intentionally make his backstory vague to add to his mysterious character.

From what I do remember, the "Dreamtale Kingdom" (I never came up with a proper name) was ruled by a Queen, who was Nim and Donovan's mother. (I never actually named Dream either but my friend @wendelin-utt once suggested "Finn" as it means "white, blessed" in old Irish.)

Anyways, there was an uprising for whatever reason and Nim was mortally injured/killed? Donovan also nearly died and consequently ate the Black Apples to survive, which corrupted him. He's thought to be dead by his brother and his original kingdom has since collapsed.

I may return to this idea at some point? I had an idea to introduce Fresh somehow and have MC bond with Dirk, otherwise I don't really have any ideas. It's a shame though cause I really like the idea I had.

One of the key ideas is that every AU is a kingdom, so every character technically exists in this fantasy world. I've always wanted to write this sort of crossover and fantasy is my favourite idea, but I don't know. Maybe when I have less projects on the go I'll get around to it.

Until then, I don't mind you all sending in ideas or questions. It means a lot that you actually like this silly thing I thought of!

[shewhowillrise]

Me: what if I made Wes a winter soldier type for the GIW to hunt down Phantom

Me: nah that’s stupid

[cryptonite-exe]

i see you’re taking request!! would you be willing to write some more dating rev head cannons? maybe how he’d treat you during downtime with everyone else? :) so far i’ve fallen in love with your crypto content!

dating the devil | revenant headcanons

𓆩♡𓆪 pairing ; revenant x gn!reader

𓆩♡𓆪 a/n ; AAAA MY FIRST REQUESTTT thank you so much you kind soul!! really hope you enjoy this! (apologies it took long) <3

the mellow afternoon sun slowly descends, the light of day fading. the hazy atmosphere and silence of the dropship’s clinic was comforting. you sigh deeply and shut your eyes. you relish in the peace of this unoccupied area of the ship, the vibrations of the moving ship was soothing to you. you were hooked on an iv bag to get the fluids you needed to make a full recovery. with an arm taped with wires and strict orders to rest there, you recall the events of the past day as sleep dawned onto you. the match today did more damage than good. your entire shield batteries and med kits being completely shredded by the damn charged rifle ash kept poking you with. the bandages on your waist fit you tight, the inflammation on your skin was no joke. perhaps having personal relations to the other simulacrum has its cons.

the recent schedule of back to back matches took a toll on you- no, rather all of you. octane, who lives for the adrenaline of battle, even expressed how he needed a breather after the recent games. quoting “more stim’s been going than coming, my stunts won’t be as cool without my stim!”. after the complaints, the syndicate announced a week long break with olympus being the stopping place. the legends rejoiced and gushed about their plans for the week filled with partying and clubs, and some choosing to remain in the comfort of their closed quarters.

the next thing you knew, you were coming to your senses. your attempt at going back to sleep was futile, the pillow your head was laying on was so uncomfortable you were convinced it was a brick. no amount of shifting and turning can soften that so called pillow. the white lights of the dropship nearly blinded you when you attempted to open your eyes. you groan and rub your eyes. now pissed and awake, you tried sitting up because you don’t remember the clinic’s pillows were this hard. you immediately stopped midway as a sudden shock of pain presented itself. the pain had you yelling before you can even register where it was. “easy there human” a familiar voice greets you. your hand lays on your abdomen but your eyes pan to him. “what the hell are you doing he- wait, where even am i?” you ask when you saw the unfamiliar room. it was the standard room the syndicate assigned to everyone but there was nothing.

“my room. how idiotic of you to simply sleep there. have you no regard for your safety?” he spoke, standing up. “you were looking for me?” you asked with a laugh, tilting your head to the side. “don’t get all cocky with me, human” he defensively replies. despite his relentless remarks, he places a hand on your back and offering the other to you. you accepted it immediately, he helps you stand up and walk. he doesn’t let go, perhaps waiting for you to tell him off. but you just lean in further into his gentle embrace, one that showed he was scared of harming you. “oh my knight in shining armor.” you gush, half jokingly. he only groans in response.

‘this will be a fun week’

he's a literal 6'8 (semi) gentle giant

there are the usual homicidal remarks here and there but never towards you

he'd be bored AS SHIT during the break

he complains that "skinsuits are to be killed"

he ends up following you everywhere like a curious cat, always looming over your shoulder to watch whatever you're doing

he doesn't care about pda at all, he let's you do what makes you happy. but when someone points it out he hisses like a cat in water

when the other legends saw him walk behind you everywhere, someone was bound to make fun of him for it

it just happened to be mirage

"who would've guessed murder bot is a murder PET now hah! hahah..." he laughs, fading at the end when revenant snaps his head in mirage's direction

various curses and profanities were thrown that you had to slap him on the arm for it

"hey- no that was too mean!" you express, crossing your arms

"whatever he deserved it" he murmurs, then stomps away like a literal kid

(is back to your side in 5 minutes)

not the best person to gossip to but he does keep an open ear and sometimes asks for details

he'll groan whenever you're rambling for a long time, but he actually feels bad when you shut up

his form of an apology is sticking by your side until you start talking again

he absolutely cannot be left to do a task unless you want claw marks left everywhere

folding clothes? ripped. wiping down tables? scratches. he wants to hand comb your hair? no you're going bald.

he doesn't understand your liking for kissing him but doesn't oppose it

rev : what are you doing?

: kissing you

rev : disgusting. do it again.

doesn't do pet names. you are clinically insane if you hope he calls you one

the most he'll do is "human" or "sweetheart" and not with romantic intent

is scared to even lay a finger on you, what if those hands do to you what they were designed to do?

you have to initiate any intimacy, placing his hands on your waist reminding him it's okay or resting your head on his shoulder to calm him down

treats you like absolute glass- like you would break at a single push

possessive to the power of 10, and it cannot be overstated

no other legend would dare to even flirt with you, an invisible mark that indicates his property is on you

"mine" he mumbles, pulling your waist closer to him as his other hand grips his scythe- bloody from an entire squad's futile attempt to ambush you alone

some would question your taste in significant others but if they asked, you'd answer

"if only you knew"

if only they knew the quiet moments you had just observing each other, curiosity indulging itself

if only they knew the stories he shared from his memories, how his early days as a human haunted him to a point of endless jealousy and anger

if only they knew how tired he was of waking up from every death he hoped was the final one, how you were the only thing he looked forward to seeing

if only they knew how you were the only person he trusted enough to shut down and sleep

if only they knew how you wake up at 3am to see glowing dots on your ceiling, no hesitation to pat the bed as an invite and just go back to sleep

if only they knew how he nudges his head against yours as a kiss, how he caresses your hands feeling the warmth of being human

if only they knew your selfish thoughts of wanting to be one of his kind to accompany him in his lonely nightmare forever

© this work is by cryptonite-exe, please do not copy and post on any other platform.

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side stories

Story VIII: Lumity | Endless Tales

[Konchar] [Graves] [Gaz] [Price] [Novikov] [Farah] [Roba] [AO3]

Aka the last one... it's a little different from the rest and much shorter, but I really enjoyed writing from a Reaper's point of view...

“TELL ME OF THE PAST.”

“... What do you want to know?”

“TELL ME OF THE VOID.”

“There was no void, until you. And there will be no void, after you. Your domain was in the transient, not the permanent, ˈæbsᵊns. We did not know that, until us.”

“... TELL ME OF DESTRUCTION.”

“I was, before most. And I will be, when most will not. I am a watcher, I am a violent end, I am kriˈeɪʃᵊn.”

“TELL ME OF FATE. THE ETERNAL ONE.”

“Nothing is eternal, ˈæbsᵊns. I watched feɪt weave itself in the places of nothing, and we will watch it unravel, in due time.”

“AND YET, ITS RULE IS ABSOLUTE.”

“Nothing is absolute. Not even nothingness itself. You should know that… we are a testament to it…”

“... TELL ME OF THE HUMANS.”

“They’re blind… They’re blind, but one cannot blame the eyeless for not seeing.”

“AND WHAT OF THE REVENANTS?”

“The revenants… such volatile ones. Weak, and yet we keep them. As our little pawns… as a compromise, for us greater beings.”

“WHAT OF OUR REVENANTS?”

“Our… we both know they are no revenants, ˈæbsᵊns. No… blind pawns they are not.”

“ARE THEY TOO A TRANSITORY MATTER, kriˈeɪʃᵊn?”

“I do not know… as I did not know what will become of us…”

“AND FATE, THE ETERNAL ONE, DOES IT KNOW?”

“... No… it does not. A path was paved, but it was not feɪt’s path… this is not feɪt’s path…”

“... I SENSE NO HESITATION FROM YOU.”

“We feel no hesitation, ˈæbsᵊns… Change is no stranger to l̪ɵmit̪e.”

“IS IT FOREIGN TO FATE? DOES IT FEAR?”

“... Yes. It fears like a raw thing… unpolished.”

“IS IT A DANGER TO US?”

“Such thing is a danger to us all… and we are part of the whole, ˈæbsᵊns…”

“... WILL YOU REMAIN WITH ME, kriˈeɪʃᵊn?”

“... I do not know… I will remain, as long as you do.”

“THEN I HAVE NO HESITATION.”

“... We shall warn them… our catalysts of change… our once-revenants…”

“WILL THEY BE ABLE TO BEAR SUCH BURDEN?”

“They bore l̪ɵmit̪e. They will bear this.”

“THEY MUST.”

[utilitycaster]

Ok why is the going theory somehow simultaneously "if the gods die, people who are only alive through divine magic may die" but also somehow "if the gods die, Vax, who was only able to live even as a revenant following his disintegration due to the intervention of divine magic, will be a-ok"

[one-in-a-nillion]

Oh yeah. i think i'm getting back into the groove of art, proxy mtg cards thank you for a motivation boost.

this is a redraw muehehehe,

this one is ooooolder. technically. i don't remember when i did it.

[sinni-ok-sessi]

As we have established, I have Can't Shut Up Disease about the Bjarna-Dísa folktale and so I've spent most of this evening making a rough translation, the better to not shut up about it. My Icelandic is a little rusty at this point, so if you spot any parts I've obviously misunderstood, do let me know.

You can read the Icelandic online here, which I'm fairly sure is just a transcription of the text from Jón Árnason's Íslenzkar Þjóðsögur.

You can listen to Snorri Helgason's haunting (haha) song version here on his Bandcamp. The entire Margt býr í þokunni album is a collection of songs inspired by Icelandic folklore, would very much recommend.

Finally, you can find my translation of Bjarna-Dísa below the cut. I'm not sure how best to content warn for it other than to say that it's an Icelandic ghost story where the weather may actually be scarier than the ghost.

EDIT: apparently I'm doing more of these:

The Deacon of Myrká

Bjarna-Dísa

There was a man called Bjarni, the son of Þorsteinn. He was born in the late 18th century and lived until 1840. He had a sister called Þordís. She was about twenty when this story took place.

Þordís was pleasing in appearance, but was considered rather arrogant in attitude. She made a great deal of her clothing and imitated as best she could the fashions of Danish ladies, and she stayed at Eskifjörður marketplace in the last year of her life.

It so happened that Bjarni Þorsteinsson travelled down into Eskifjörður, and Þordís then joined her brother on his journey and planned to go with him to Seyðisfjörður, where Bjarni then lived.

Nothing is told of their journey before they took up lodgings at Þrándarstaðir in Eiðaþinghá. That was in the first half of Þorri [late winter]. They were there for one night. But the next morning, when they wanted to go pass over Fjarðarheiði, the weather was thick with snow and frost. Bjarni told his sister that she should stay behind, because the weather was unreliable and she was dressed for looks and not for protection.

She was in a simple linen dress and linen undershirt, sleeveless from the elbows down. She called it a serk and wanted no other kind of shirt. She had a cloth headdress, red and brown, and her hands and feet were poorly clad.

Dísa was not pleased to sit waiting. She declared that she should go with him, whether he would or no. They fell into an argument, and so set off both in poor humour, and made their way up onto the heath, in spite of the fact that the weather was growing worse and worse.

Now it came to pass that Bjarni had no idea where he was going, and Dísa grew weary from both cold and exertion, and always she complained that she was exhausted from all this walking; then Bjarni began to dig a cave into a snowdrift and when he had finished, it seemed to him that there was a gap in a gravel bank a little way away; then he said to Dísa that he wanted to go over there and see if he recognised the gravel bank. She asked him not to leave her, but it was no use.

So Bjarni went, but then the weather closed in; he thus found neither the gravel bank, nor Dísa again; nonetheless, he carried on indecisively until he crawled, barely awake, into Fjörður in Seyðisfjörður that evening, almost completely without strength, speechless and very scraped up around his face. He had gone astray past the mountain and fallen into brambles and ravines, lost his hat and was generally in a bad way.

At that time, there lived in Fjörður a farmer who was called Þorvaldur Ögmundsson. He was well thought of, powerfully strong and very brave. Those who knew him said that he knew no fear. He was straightforward and even-tempered, intelligent and the best man to ask for a favour.

He received Bjarni well and had him nursed back to health as best he could. And it was not until the next evening that Bjarni was able to tell the tale of his journey, so exhausted was he. Then he begged Þorvaldur to prepare himself to search for his sister; but the weather continued the same as ever. It was weather from the north, very harsh and dark, and so much frost that it was hardly possible for a strong man to find his way home between the houses. So Bjarni was there for two more nights, but on the fifth day after he parted from Dísa, the weather calmed a little.

Then they prepared themselves for the journey, Þorvaldur, Bjarni and a labourer by the name of Jón Bjarnason, a hard-working man and a good fellow; they made their way up to the heath, but a little way from the common route, because it was Bjarni’s guess that that would be the best place to search for Dísa.

When they had come north of Stafdalsfell, they heard a scream so loud that it resounded through all the nearby mountains. Jón and Bjarni were shocked but not terrified, and Þorvaldur did not know what it was to be afraid. He headed in the direction from which the sound had come, until he was east of Stafdalur. His companions had begun to fall behind. Then Þorvaldur questioned Jón’s courage to get him to keep up.

By then, the day had ended, and the weather was somewhat bright, and bitter frost came driving at them; the moon shone down and clouds passed overhead; thus the time passed. Then Þorvaldur saw something in a snowdrift, where he had had no hope of finding anything, though the area was well-known to him. There was a grassy hill stretching away from them.

Then he said to the others, “Þordís must be there now,” and it was as he said.

So he went to her. She was not at that time lying down, as he would have expected from a dead person, but rather she was positioned most like when people are sitting in a chair; the linen dress was tented around her middle and frozen in spikes, and she was bare below and bareheaded, the snow-house blown away so that you could only see the bottom of it.

Þorvaldur spoke then to his companions, saying that they should approach and help each other to arrange the corpse on a skin which he had brought with them for transportation. They dragged it towards him. Then he told Bjarni to cut the frozen covering off her, because he wanted to dress her in trousers, which he had with him, so she was not naked as they carried her. Bjarni did as he was told, though he was afraid.

Then Þorvaldur lifted her up in his arms and intended to dress her in the trousers, but at this, she let out such a great howl that it overpowered him; Þorvaldur has said that it seemed to him impossibly strong and mighty.

His companions recoiled from deadly fear, but Þorvaldur reacted thus: he put Dísa down hard and said rather quickly: “No good are you, Dísa, to struggle like this, because I am not at all afraid, and if you carry on like this, then you will find out that I shall tear your apart nerve by nerve and then throw your body to the wolves; on the other hand, if you behave agreeably for us while we carry you and we have no trouble getting you down, then I shall make a coffin for you and bury you in a Christian grave, though I imagine you aren’t worthy of such a thing.”

After that, he took her, dressed her and arranged her on the skin, called his companions to him and made his way home.

(Other stories say that Þorvaldur may have broken Dísa’s back to make her be quiet, and thus she stopped howling. There are many other ugly stories about their exchange. Þorvaldur was a decent, honest man, but superstitious like many in the 18th century, and the story he told himself must be the most accurate.

(The stories say that Dísa and Bjarni had had a cask of strong spirits. Dísa may have been drunk, but alive, and Þorvaldur dealt with her out of superstitious fury.))

Þorvaldur had seen that the tracks from Dísa’s lair were like this: that she had walked, so that each path was different, to about four fathoms away and then leapt backwards in a single leap with both feet, back into her den, and she had done this twice. Hermann of Fjörður in Mjóafjörður, who was called very wise, has said that this was the habit of those who walked after death, and they needed to do it three times in order to become full revenants, but Dísa lacked the third path.

Now they carried on down from the heath; the weather was so dark overhead that it was hard to find their way, yet they arrived unharmed at Fjarðarsel; it was then a short way out to Fjörður over the shoulder of the mountain, but Þorvaldur did not trust himself to find his way along the fjord; he asked for lodgings for him and his companions. But the farmer refused; he said that he had become wary of the unpleasant spirit that followed them.

Then Þorvaldur began to make arrangements: he set the body in a shed across from the doors to the living quarters and went into the living quarters with his companions, and the farmer sat with his son on the edge of the sleeping platform. Both of these two were called Björn; they each held a spiked walking stick in their hands and paced back and forth in front of the door. Thus they continued into the night. Þorvaldur did not become sleepy, and did not undress, but went out alone to look at the weather. One time during the night, when he wanted to turn back to the main building, Dísa appeared before him in the doorway, as though she wanted to follow him inside, but he turned her away and hurried into the living quarters.

With the coming of day, the weather quietened, so that they were able to reach Fjörður. The hut in which Dísa had spent the night was scratched as though by claws. Now Þorvaldur went to a coffin-maker, just as he had promised, and had Dísa brought to Dvergasteinn. The priest there at that time was Þorsteinn Jónsson the poet (d. 1800). He offered Dísa burial in the Christian manner. But it so happened that the next morning there was a strangely deep hole at the foot of Dísa’s resting place; the hole was filled, but in the morning it was open again. Again it was filled, and yet again, on the third morning, it was open as before. Then the priest himself came and said a blessing over the hole. Men say that from that point on, it did not re-open.

Now it must be told about Bjarni, that henceforth, whenever he intended to sleep, Dísa came and tried to take him by the throat, and this was no secret because both the blind and the sighted saw her. Men also said that she had often attacked him, even in the light. Then he went to Father Þorsteinn, who was mentioned before, and received some kind of protection from him, so that Dísa never succeeded in hurting Bjarni himself.

Bjarni had thirteen children, and they all died young and quickly. Men have it as true that Dísa must have hastened all of their deaths. She followed Bjarni until his dying day and often made her presence felt: killed living people, and sometimes attacked men, and there are many tales told of her tricks that would be too long to relate here.

And thus ends the story of Bjarna-Dísa, and the story here is written as it was told by Þorvaldur himself.