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temmtamm · 2 years

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☪︎YANDERE COLLECTOR MEETING HUMAN READER SCENARIO ��

(Trapped, not freed. Apologies!! Feel free to request stuff like this but with a freed collector. Asks are opened and appreciated)

"Shit, shit, shit!!"

Curses slipped from your lips as you scrambled up to your feet and broke into a sprint. Why did you have to get involved in all this? Guards, witches, the emperors coven. So many bad decisions.

You just wanted a glimpse into the castle, to meet your idol and Emperor Belos before you took the entrance exam to be one of his guards. After all, it wasn't everyday a human was excepted into the emperor's coven. Especially after Luz made it seem that all humans would chose wild magic. No Offense to her, she's your bestie but WOW was your reputation tarnished from that. And now look at you, getting chased by the golden guard just cause you happened to walk into a private contact between the two. Death was probably garenteed at this point, so turning yourself in was out of the question.

You're poor legs were pounding and throbbing in pain as the adrenaline that once courses through your veins began to fade once you couldn't hear the pitter patter of the golden guards feet anymore. You heaved and panted, your lungs burning as if someone has personally grabbed and squeezed them. Your steps began to slow down as you found yourself in a new room of the castle, one you've never seen before...at least not in the tours they usually give at schools.

It was, uh....hard to describe. Especially for a human who didn't even belong in this world. But it appears to try to be imitating the cluttered mess that a office holds.

Not like the room seemed all that useful in escaping. But there was however one thing in the room that had peeked (Y/N)'s interest though.

It was the slighty cracked window above a desk that shined some light in the room. Even if it was just moonlight-

"Maybe if I can climb the desk-" You muttered to yourself, though paused just I'm case someone might've heard. Once you were sure no one heard, you started to make your way past the piles of garbage and towards the table. You quickly hiked one leg over and on the desk and then another before gazing down at the ground from the window to see how steep the fall would be when you jumped.

Spoiler alert? Pretty fuckin' steep.

Though, seeing as how Luz had taught you levitation, it couldn't be hard to just make yourself float down.

With a shaky sigh, your hands grinned at the end of the cold window that had begun to collect some of the droplets of rain from the sky.

Push!!

.....Nothing.

Okay, how about pushing harder?

..........Nothing.

Pulling?

.............Nothing.

You hissed in annoyance before shuffling a bit to the side to get at it with an angle.

Before you could even push this time, you yelped and almost fell off the desk from a cold, almost metallic feeling striking your leg. (E/C) orbs snapped to the leg to see that the cause of such a feeling was a small little...slab.

It had some stuff engraved on it, though it wasn't like you could see it well with eye only lighting in the room being the pale moonlight the window provided.

.....

Oh well, back to the grind, gamers!! Time to open that window!

And how lucky you are!! With a couple of pushes, you actually got it to pop open this time!

Thoough, when has anything ever gone completely right for you?

The slab you kinda stepped on was now warm- not just room temperature warm, but almost scoltching hot.

You bit down on you lip to hold back a scream and quickly acted on instinct, causing for you to kick the....rock? Off the table and onto the dusty floor.

Smoke puffed up as if someone just lit something on fire from just the dust, though that appeared to be the least of your worries.

The....slab?? Rock? Ah, whatever- now had a long, completely pitch black shadow rising from under it and growing to the point where it crawled up the floors and onto the walls.

The cold embrace of the wet grass below the castle is looking so tempting right now-

Your gaze shakily followed the eerily person shaped shadow before resting on what you assumed was the shadows face.

.....

"BOO!!"

Light suddenly shined on the shadow, forming two eyes and a way to big grin. You couldn't even bite back the scream that creeped out of your throat from the scare.

The shadow seemed to take some glee out of your fear, snickering and pointing at you before morphing it's body to mock/recreate your reaction.

"That's what you get, meanie!! Kicking me to the floor, for shame!!" For shame!! What even are ya, anyway- ooooh, another human!! I've seen one of those before!~ Doesn't mean I'll let ya' off scott-free for your crime against me though!"

The figure twisted a bit, giving a disapproving shake of its head before cracking into a fit of laughter yet again.

Blink.

You tried to blink the figure away but everytime you open your eyes, it's still there.

"What the fuck....?"

You whispered, barely audible which seemed to make the shadow stop it's hyena like giggle fit.

Now that silence had filled the air of the room, you were allowed the chance to hear the sounds coming from the halls.

You're heart almost stopped as you realized there was a sound of footsteps getting closer to the door.

A yelp of surprise escaped your slightly parted lips as you scrambled to hide under the desk.

'Shit!! I was too loud! That was probably the golden guard!' You internally kicked yourself for probably causing your stoning.

....

The door hasn't opened.

"Sheeesh!! Paranoid, much? It's probably just a guar-" The shadow paused as it's mind seemed to realize something, it's grin widening even more (if that's even possible) from that realization.

"Ooooo!!! You're not supposed to be here! You're gonna get in trouuublee!~" It sang out. Far too loudly, might you add. Almost as if it wanted to get caught.

You quickly shushed the creature before crawling out of your spot and hopping back up on the table.

"Shush!! If I get caught, I'm taking you down with me! I'll-i-i'll- I'll say you helped hide me!" You gritted your teeth and whisper-yelled at the....demon?

The shadow snorted before traveling across the room's walls, stopping once it hit the wall with the window on it.

"HA! Like Belos would believe that!"

Wait- Was Belos connected to this...thing?

You looked up at the shadow, puzzled. Well, that was until you heard the bang of what you could only assume was cause of the golden guard.

"Shit!! No time to talk!"

You hiked a leg over the window, which seemed to through the teasing and playful shadow person into a panic.

"WAIT!! Don leave!!don't uh....Dont jump out there!! There are guards AALLL around that spot down below!"

The shadow shifted and regained it's composure, now being your shadow itself, though still keeping it's previous form.

"I mean. I doooo know another way out~ But I only let my frieends know that route!"

The demon smiled as if they had you in a checkmate, though you simply shrugged.

"If I can evade the golden guard himself, I can evade the guards below!"

A gust of both wind and rain rushed to your face as suddenly, the window slammed shut, almost snapping down on your fingers in the process.

"Cmoon, just play along!! You did just toss me to the floor! I just want new friends and to okay some new games!! Belos only wants to play his games!! It's so unfair!" The demon(?) You once feared was pouting and whining like a spoiled little brat. You'd love nothing more to just tell him- wait, is it even a him? It doesn't seem to have a...bah! Unimportant!! anyways, you'd love nothing more to just tell it to suck a fat one and jump out the window, but with how loud they're being, you'd most surely get caught.

"Okay, okay!! Shhh! You have to be quiet though! I'll be your friend and we can play games as we go to the escape route, but you have to keep your voice down. The golden guard will hear us and he'll be out for my head!"

The creature beamed...it was hard to believe it's whining and sadness was real with how easily it got it's smile back.

"Sounds like a deal!!"

You scrunched up your nose.

"Yeeeaah, I don't do "deals" with shadow-demon-people."

That's Demon-ist.

"Hmm- okay!! Then let's make it a pinky promise then!!" The shadow extended a hand, as if trying to seperate itself from the wall to outstretch it's pinky. The attempt was futile though.

"Oh, jeez. I'm gonna regret this.."

Despite your words, you outstretched your hand to do the same.

And regret it you did!

But, at least you can get out somewhat safely now..

Thanks for reading!! Apologies, this one's rather long, huh?♥︎

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r0semar1esp1ce · 2 years

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Hello can you do a yandre hcs of owl house characters being jealous (Luz, collector,amity,hunter?)

Thank you a lot for the request !

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Yandere Owl House x GN Reader HC [Jealousy]

⚠️Warning for obsessive behaviour , mentions of stalking and violence !⚠️

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Luz Noceda

Luz is definately more of a platonic yandere , so the thought of her being jealous is a little rare . She doesn't think you would ever leave her or replace her . And even if her jealousy were to get the better of her , she would simply confront you about it . She might get emotionaly while telling you about how she has been feeling .

After the confrontation , Luz will avoid getting involved with your new friend/acquantance . The only occasion where she will get involved is if she sees them treating you badly . In that case she will probably use her magic against them , nothing too major but still enough to teach them a lesson .

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Amity Blight

Amity is a little more likely to get jealous , due to he lack of experience with romantic relationships and knowledge about romance . She tries to push away any concerns she has and tries to trust you on the matter . She would occasionaly watch you from affar as you hung out with new people .

She probably wouldn't tell you about her feelings of jealousy , because she would feel like she is showing distrust towards you . So , instead she would simply ask you to hang out more often or pull you away from whoever you may be hanging out with .

If she ever sees your new friend/acquantance treating you badly she wouldn't hesitate to use her abominations against them

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The Collector

The Collector gets jealous whenever he sees you talking with anyone that isn't him . He will immediately demand that you pay more attention to him , throwing a tantrum and crying about how are going to betray them . The tantrum only stops when you apologise .

However , while the tantrum stops when you apologise , they don't immediately forgive you . While they have already made their point clear to you , they will also harm the person who was talking to you in order to make it obvious that you shouldn't pay more attention to anyone else more than them .

It doesn't matter if the new person you meet treats you nicely or badly , the outcome will be the same .

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Hunter (The Golden Guard)

Hunter is very insecure about your relationship , so whenever he sees you hanging out with someone he immediately feels as if he is being replaced and that he isn't good enough . Hunter will be feeling like an emotional wreck for the next few days or until you comfort him about it .

Hunter will try his best to not look jealous in front of you or resort to violent ways to get over his jealousy . He will simply try to act cool about it so you don't think any less of him .

If Hunter ever saw your new friend/acquantance trearing you badly , he would either make up a false accusation about them to get them in trouble , or he would simply beat them up by himself when they are alone .

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I hope I did a good job with your request !

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#yandere #yandere x reader #fanfic #yandere the owl house #yandere toh #yandere luz noceda #yandere amity blight #yandere collector #yandere golden guard #yandere owl house collector

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yandere-toons · 2 years

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YOU'RE IT

The Collector – Platonic Scenario

WARNING: body horror, death, undeath, blood, hospitalisation, reality warping, mentions of religious concepts, psychological manipulation, toxic mindset.

A.N. - !יחי האספן

A GOLDEN THRONE reached halfway to the ceiling, and bordering it on either side were bowls of fire that stood upon thin stems made from metal. The fire was extinguished and then relit with blue flames, casting a warm glow across the green rug stretching from the foot of the throne to the doors.

The doors to the throne room were made of hand-carved wood taken from the forests of the Boiling Isles and were taller than any living witch. Opening the doors took as much effort as heaving a large rock, yet the Collector burst into the room with the ease of blowing a feather.

Despite never sleeping, the Collector dressed in the type of roomy jumpsuit and nightcap that someone who intended to stay in bed would wear.

Beads of sweat trickled down your face at how fast the Collector was carrying you through the air, your legs dangling above a floor that was approaching far too quickly for your old bones to catch. “Nay, nay! I'm not as spry as I used to be!”

The Collector slowed their descent with a groan of disappointment, but they kept their hands near you until you found your footing.

You stumbled forth with a lame leg on your right side and a cane in your left hand. The butt of the cane hit the floor at the same time as your foot, helping you amble to the throne. Your right leg clumsily landed beside the armrest, which you leaned against to stop and breathe for a moment.

“Buddy!” shouted a high-pitched voice with forced sincerity, and the dark-furred shape of something resembling a canine emerged from behind the throne. “I just had, like, the best idea. What if we had eight people hiding instead of just us three?”

As the Collector flew to hug the owner of the voice, your brain filled with static. The words exchanged between the two of them were hard to understand and seemed to be missing all meaning. The painful flutters in your chest returned, and by the time you deciphered one word, you had forgotten the rest.

After a few moments of staring into space, you shook yourself free of the mental mud and noticed someone was tugging at the bottom half of your clothes.

It was King, a bipedal, dog-like creature with an exposed skull for a head. Atop his head was a pair of long, straight horns, the left of which bore a sizeable crack at the middle.

He barely reached your hips, but you did not need to look far to see how his clawed paw was motioning to the doors. “I'll be back—uh, lickety-split!” King swung his arm forward in mock cheer, glancing at the Collector every other second to confirm that they had not gotten closer or were suspecting anything.

The Collector applauded the news with claps and laughter as they spun in a full circle.

King was gone for so long that you kept forgetting and then remembering that he existed and was supposed to be coming back, although the truth was, you did not know how much time had passed.

The large doors to the throne room were pushed open with a sweeping creak, and a group of five villagers walked forward in varying degrees of suspicion and curiosity. At the sight of you, four of the five villagers fell into hushed gossip and called you by an unfamiliar name.

King was scurrying at the flank of the group, his arms raised in a ‘Y’ shape as if to herd the much taller people in a specific direction. “Okay,” he shouted to ensure that his voice was heard, “here we are!”

The droop of his tail and the way he was tapping his claws together while glancing between the heads of the villagers were indicative of the knot twisting his stomach. “The old throne room. Just like I said,” mumbled King, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Murmurs of bewilderment and speculation spread from villager to villager as each one noticed the Collector, who had tucked their knees into their chest and were spinning vertically without rising or falling.

At the sight of additional players, the Collector gasped with joy and swooped to the front of the group with such haste that the villagers recoiled in fear. There was a cyclops woman, a two-headed reptilian, a humanoid with flaming purple hair, a shorter gremlin and Steve the former Coven Scout.

The Collector was shaking their fists up and down in an outpouring of enthusiasm. “Everyone, go hide! And I'll count to three hundred!”

Waving a hand as if it would dispel the fear leaking out of the villagers' wide eyes and clenched jaws, you babbled, “This place is a maze. I'll go get you folks a map.”

In the couple of minutes that passed in your absence, a thread of unrest was sewn into the group in the form of the cyclops narrowing her eye at the vacant throne. “Where's Emperor Belos?” she demanded, and the other villagers repeated the question while glaring at the cracks in the walls.

“Ol' Steve's gonna be late to brunch,” chuckled Steve, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the doors.

The noise of confusion soared to outraged chatter until it had descended into overlapping chaos.

Once the Collector had finished counting to three hundred, they turned to search for the villagers. No one was even pretending to hide—save for King, who took one look at the Collector and backed away from the group—, and this caused the smile to slip from their face.

King scurried to the opposite end of the group and clutched Steve's gloved hand, tugging on it with all his might and thrusting a paw at one of the more distant corners.

Steve allowed himself to be pulled for a few steps before he crouched and looked at King with an air of friendliness. “Did you need something, little buddy?” His answer came as all the voices behind him ceased at once, followed by absolute silence.

You staggered back into the throne room with the map tucked under your arm to find it empty of people besides the Collector, Steve and King. The Collector was levitating next to a gobsmacked Steve by the throne, and King was in the furthest corner.

King was cowering half-draped under a tapestry of Emperor Belos, eyes shut and paws covering where his ears would have been.

After squinting your beleaguered eyes and opening your mouth slightly, you peered around the space. “Where has everyone gone? Did the game start already?”

The Collector floated over to you like a brooding child, head down and lips pursed into a pout. This discontent morphed into a smile when you looked at them for an answer. “I sent them to the Dark Place,” explained the Collector, and the unconcerned ease with which they spoke was that of someone describing the weather.

“The Dark Place?” you repeated with a hint of hesitancy, wondering if it was a nickname for a shadowy corner or a subterranean part of the castle.

“It's where the fibbers go,” they said.

The footprints made by the villagers minutes before were no longer visible; it was as if they had never existed.

Sweat gathered on your brow, and something on the inside of your chest tightened. You peeked at the entranced Steve, who was slowly rocking back and forth and groaning unintelligible things in an attempt to communicate.

Your eyes pulled back to the Collector and their unwavering stare, to which you offered a smile that you hoped was convincing. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe we can keep the games between the two of us for today.”

The joy vanished from their face. In its place was a blank mixture of surprise and lost excitement. Within seconds, it evolved into curious happiness as they tapped their chin and outstretched their arms in a cheerful shrug. “Hmm, okay!”

Steve disappeared from the room with a snap of the Collector's fingers, and he was dumped on the steps outside Police Precinct 206.

A Coven Scout dressed in a golden and white cloak was stationed at the foot of the stairs. He watched as Steve bonked his singular horn on the stone step and rolled down to the dirt, shaking his head. “You've gotta lay off the Apple Blood, dude.”

In the Emperor's throne room, the Collector hovered upside down in front of you with their legs outstretched so that they could touch their toes. “What'd you wanna play?”

The names of a few familiar games tumbled through your head, but these thoughts were dashed by a twinge in your chest.

You pressed a fist to the area, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut at the pain around your heart. Even though the pain faded within a minute, the knowledge of what it meant did not.

A question sat on your mind as the weight on your chest during a nightmare, and it took you many seconds to gather the courage to ask it. “Can I visit my home?”

When you spoke these words, the Collector froze in midair and looked at you as if you had declared your hatred for the game of tag.

“We can play as much as you want after,” you added with a hasty smile, although you were not certain there would be an afterwards.

This enticed the Collector into gaining a wide smile and floating higher. “All right!” They held up a finger. “But just for a little while!”

Not sure how to piggyback on a teleportation stint, you assumed that there needed to be some kind of physical connection and extended your hands for them to take.

The Collector stared at your offering with an unchanged smile and no indication of movement, causing you to lower your hands slightly. This mild embarrassment at making what appeared to be a dumb assumption faded when they pressed their palms against yours.

A short burst of laughter came from them, and for a brief moment, you worried that the Collector was only messing with you about going home. However, as their fingers clamped down on your hands, the world around you became fuzzy and blurred.

* * *

FIREFLIES BUZZED throughout the hills and the grasslands that sloped between them, with each winged beetle emitting a greenish-yellow light. These dozens of glowing dots lit up the night like fallen stars.

A pleasant breeze swept along your neck and slithered through the grass, tying blades of it around your fingers and tickling the skin on your hands. It was a soothing coolness that was neither too cold nor too mild, chilling you just enough to relieve some tension in your muscles without ruining your ability to focus.

Air whooshed from behind, and the Collector sat beside you with their legs crisscrossed.

They rocked back and forth while gripping their feet, eyes becoming fixed on the various light sources scattered around the hillside. Their repetitive motion slowed as they leaned against your shoulder, which was stiff and sore.

The Collector moved off you and stood up, looking between the silvery light of the crescent moon pouring across the countryside and the glow of the fireflies illuminating it like helpful lanterns. “The world's so bright now.”

“When I first got here, it was all dark. I couldn't see much until that big bully came around.” Their curious face soured into a pout at the mention of the “big bully,” and they crossed their arms with a sulky glance to the side.

This frown was washed away in a surge of laughter as the Collector flew into the air and circled you. “And I didn't have anyone to play with! Not like now!”

You watched their flight as best you could, struggling to keep at bay the pain in your neck that struck each time you used those muscles. The exhaustion of a creature in desperate need of a long nap weighed heavy on you.

It had nearly overtaken you when the Collector plopped themselves at your side again, startling you into awakening.

The glowing eyes of the Collector raked the infinite number of white dots in the sky and, from their seat on a hill, saw beyond the lens of the most advanced telescope. They saw the giant balls of gas as if floating in front of one, seeing celestial bodies of blue, red, orange, yellow, and a few that remained white.

Their mouth opened a bit, and the words that came from their study of the cosmos were laced with wonder. “Your sky has so many stars.”

You looked down at the celestial pattern on their outfit and skin and spared a moment to ponder what stars were to the Collector; cousins in the same way that a bee was to an ant; children still new to the universe; ancestors from a past life—or just bright objects that happened to share a space with them.

“It's more than pretty.” You lifted your head to the sky once again, pointing a decrepit finger and tracing a constellation overhead. “People would draw pictures of this and say you could see bears and old heroes. Some of them base their whole lives around it.”

Sitting up, the Collector raised their hands to the sky with the thumbs and index fingers extended. They shut one eye and narrowed the other, sticking out their tongue as they adjusted the nearness of their hands like a painter judging the measurements of a subject.

With a satisfied hum, the Collector lowered their arms slightly and eyed the piece of the galaxy they had chosen. They then moved their hands sideways in a sweeping motion, and all the stars except for a small cluster were pushed away to different areas of the sky.

The grunt of shock and confusion that burst out of you went unnoticed as the Collector dragged each star in the cluster to a new position with one finger. A smiley face was etched into the night sky, looking down at you with its white-dotted face among the sea of black.

As boredom started to itch like razors across their mind, the Collector snuck a mischievous glance at you before tapping your shoulder. “Tag! You're it!” They propelled themselves off the ground in a flurry of grass blades and wind sooner than you could acknowledge the tap.

The outsized fabric of their sleeves and nightcap flapped in the air as they levitated far out of your reach, floating back towards the stars. The Collector began to swim in the night sky and swoop near the surrounding hills to give you a chance of catching them if you reached out at the perfect time.

The sound of uproarious laughter carried on the wind, and it pulled your weary eyes to the airborne shape of the Collector. “Chase me!” they shouted with so much childlike glee that it was hard to believe they were ancient.

You matted a spot of grass with the butt of your cane, heaving your rickety knees off the ground and fighting the shaking in your arms.

“Come on!” whined the Collector.

You pushed yourself to stamp the ground with your cane faster and drag one foot in front of the other quicker, but this tiny increase in speed was a joke compared to the Collector doing cartwheels in midair and zipping around the sky like a peregrine falcon.

A sudden flutter in your heart was the only warning that was given to you before your vision blacked out.

“Huh?” The Collector turned after the consistent thumps of your cane stopped, their excitement faltering at the sight of you tumbling down the hill.

Your eyes were closed, and your body was as limp as a wet handkerchief. You made no move to stand or pull your face out of the itchy grass. When your cane rolled into your shoulder with an audible thwack, you accepted the bruise that would surely appear.

* * *

YOU AWOKE to a pair of red and yellow eyes staring at you. The Collector had stuck their face as close to yours as it could be without touching, leaving little else in your vision besides the light and dark running down their skin.

The once steady rhythm of the heart rate monitor exploded into a series of rapid beeps, and your eyes widened in what the Collector assumed to be the joy of seeing them again. You dragged your arms from side to side across the cot and clenched handfuls of the sheets in a drugged, half-paralyzed attempt to get out of bed.

“You sleepyhead! You've been knocked out for months!”

Leaning forward until their forehead bonked yours, they placed a finger on the top and bottom of both of their eyelids and pushed their eyes open wider. A slight glow emitted from their eyes when they did this, and you wondered if they had taken the phrase “eyes are the window to the soul” literally.

The Collector did not need to blink, so their eyes were able to bore into yours for hours without any kind of interruption. They took advantage of this fact daily, leading to a recurring situation where your bedridden self was forced into a staring contest with someone who had the stillness of a mannequin.

On the first day of the third week, a new kind of tiredness seeped into you.

They glided around the side of the bed and swept one of your hands between both of theirs, tugging your arm. “Get up! Get up! Let's play,” sang the Collector.

No part of you possessed the energy to budge from their pull. Your limbs were like the heaviest stones, immovable and numb.

Your eyes fluttered to the heart rate monitor, and the Collector pondered the significance of its rhythmic beeps. “I'll be leaving soon.”

The Collector tilted their head. “Can I come with you?”

“No,” you answered with a feeble melancholy, your eyelids beginning to fall.

“But the game's not over,” they spoke with resistance.

Summoning the final bit of strength still clinging to your body, you lifted a shaky finger and pressed it to the Collector's shoulder. “You're it,” came a whisper from the last gust of breath rolling past your lips. The finger then dropped to the bed.

A high-pitched hum filled the room as the heart rate monitor fell to a straight line, displaying the number zero in the top right corner.

The Collector turned to cock their head at the change in the machine, but when they looked back at you to ask, your eyes had closed. “Huh? Don't fall asleep again.” They gripped your upper arms and lightly shook you. “We have lots more to play.”

Your total lack of reaction caused their eyes to glow, their frown deepening at the way you sagged in their hold like a ragdoll. “Wake up now.” The constant rise and fall of your chest had ceased, and the Collector wondered why you were holding your breath.

Before they could resort to anything else, a panic-stricken voice flooded out of the intercom and echoed down the hall. “We have a code blue in Room 528! Repeat: a code blue in Room 528!”

A stampede of footsteps thundered in the intersecting corridors outside the door, and the noise drew closer to the room with each passing second.

At the first sound of the doorknob jiggling, the Collector hurled an impatient look over their shoulder and threw out their right hand with a defiant, “No!”

Just as the doorknob was beginning to turn, a triangular shadow raced along the right arm of the Collector like a snake and sprang from their hand at the door. It constricted the doorknob and stuck its spearheaded end halfway through the centre of the door, splitting a jagged crack into the surface.

Muffled yelps and confused chatter erupted on the opposite side. The doorknob rattled as it was jimmied by multiple hands, and someone began to slam against the door every few seconds like a battering ram.

The Collector stared at your closed eyes as if attempting to see through your eyelids. “If you're playing peek-a-boo, I don't like it.” Your skin was cool to the touch now, lacking the natural warmth it had generated so many times before.

On the eve of the third minute of uninterrupted humming, the Collector's arm flew out from their side and aimed at the heart rate monitor. “Be quiet!” they yelled, and the machine was banished from this reality to the Dark Place.

Your lips parted.

Some of the joy returned to the Collector as they perked up in anticipation of hearing you speak to them and announce an end to this charade.

Instead of words, a ghostly wisp of light streamed out of your mouth and began floating to the ceiling.

It was your soul, realised the Collector, but the fact that it was leaving meant there was no more time to play. They rejected this truth by launching themselves off the bed.

The Collector jumped into the air and swiped at the ball of light. “Come back!” they shouted, chasing the soul with frantic swings of their arms but reaching just below it every time.

The soul was slow-moving until they came near it, at which point it zoomed higher.

As their attempts to entrap it grew sloppy and uncoordinated, the building started to shake. It was minor tremors at first, but the rattle of metal tools soon became audible.

When the soul passed through the ceiling with a blip, all the shaking and swinging ceased. The Collector stared at the spot on the ceiling where it had vanished, their eyes aglow with an intense fury.

No matter how much they willed it to happen, the soul did not return. The room was colder for it. The light was dimmer, and the colours were fainter.

Clenching their fists, the Collector screamed, “I said come back!”

Their shrieking of the word “back” coincided with the shattering of every window and light on that floor of the hospital. Lamps melted like eggs; lightbulbs exploded like popcorn; storms of glass shards flew through the corridors.

Yelps were drowned out by the cacophony of destruction, for the one orchestrating it was deaf to the pain of those outside Room 528.

A whimper was all the Collector mustered as they looked at your body again, their lips drawn into a pout.

The shadow holding the doorknob was retracted.

Just as the door was thrown open by a team of ragged nurses and a defibrillator cart, the Collector vanished.

* * *

DEEP IN THE CAVERNS running beneath the remains of the Titan's skull, there stood a door. It led to an infinite number of realms if the traveller paid the price of blue blood, but under the hand of the Collector, it opened without tribute.

Tubes of colour writhed in the doorway with a vivid array of sparkling hues, forming an image like a liquid galaxy. Among them, stars twinkled and opened the swathes of colour just enough for a glimpse into the endless universe that lay beyond.

The Collector leaned forward slightly with their eyes glowing, and the portal changed to a land of death and after-living: the netherworld. No sooner than they reached out a hand to pass through it were they ejected from the doorway in a sudden and harsh push that sent them flying backwards into the rock wall.

The buzzing that had risen in pitch when the Collector was flung had settled down to an idle hum, flickering in tune with the rotation of the matter inside the door. It pulled them to approach the doorway and, upon reaching it, tilt their head from side to side with a curious finger hovering next to their lips.

In the reflection of the portal, they saw long horns protruding from the top of the skull-like face of a Titan. The deity's eyes were black, empty sockets that contrasted with the white of the skull.

It lunged out of the doorway as little more than a silhouette, but the imposing physique of the Titan was familiar enough for the Collector to yank their hand away. A grunt of alarm escaped them as they were forced back until they fell to the ground.

The shadow of the Titan stretched to the height of the cave, and for a moment, it seemed more than a shadow. The gigantic outline of a creature long since laid to rest in the dirt towered above them.

Raising their head to follow its ascent, the Collector expected the Titan to swoop upon them in a great tide the way it had over three millennia ago. The memory of the humongous bones falling over them and pressing them into the abyss was as fresh in their mind as it was on the day it happened.

The Collector looked down to see the door, but they noticed the slightest shaking in their arms. It was a strange sensation of a fear forgotten, one that had been revived by the Titan and instilled in them to relive at the sight of it.

They dug their fingers into their palms and stilled the shaking. With the birth of an open-mouthed smile on their lips, all the light in the room was dimmed. An abrupt gust of wind swept the Collector off the floor and placed them on their feet.

The buzzes and whines quickened and swelled as the Collector threw themselves at the portal time after time, only to end each attempt with their back slamming into the wall. Shadows spilled from their fingertips and mutated the one cast by their body into that of an eldritch beast.

Darkness crawled along the walls, ceiling and floor in jagged shapes that moved with independence. The shadows splintered into waves of formless black that crashed over each other and swallowed the natural light of the sun, growing taller and wider until they began to scream.

They howled and shrieked with such power that the walls were shaken and dropped chunks of rock to the ground, and the shadows then mutated into grotesque imitations of people with mouths open in trembling fear.

The Collector was blasted against the wall for the umpteenth time, but on this occasion, they waited to get up.

The motionless face of the Titan mocked them from the far reaches of the doorway, taunting their upside-down position at the foot of the opposite wall.

Trading their frown of displeasure for a smile of schemes, the Collector rolled to an upright position and stood with one hand on their chin. “If I can't go, I'll just find someone who can.”

* * *

SCUFFLING AND INANE MUTTERING followed a crooked-backed warlock of many years, his staff swiping old scrolls to the floor and stamping it as he hobbled along. He came to a spot where the balcony ended and the start of the throne room behind him began.

The sun shone life into the flowers adorning the balcony, all of which had died and wilted into brown lumps except for a lotus. The warlock grumbled at the daylight and the long shadow he cast through it, only to reconsider the light when he noticed a second shadow beside his.

A rapid swing of his staff cut nothing but air. Laughter, like a child at play, echoed in the dimly lit room. It oozed from every crevice that the torches failed to reach, and the warlock yelled, “Reveal yourself, foul demon!”

The Collector emerged from a shadow on the wall, a wooden smile on their face and a glassy look in their eyes. “Demon?” They tilted their head. “I'm not a demon!”

They floated in such a way that they appeared taller than the warlock, a fact which caused him to bare his teeth and pull his staff to his body. Their visage of childlike innocence drew a vicious scowl from the warlock.

“Remove your mask of virtue!” he cried, and the Collector raised a hand to their mouth.

Their head bobbed somewhat as they delivered a snicker, keeping their bi-coloured eyes narrowed in an ominous expression that tore his sense of security away from him. “I don't think you wanna see that,” they chuckled.

The distant booms of cannon fire lay beyond the walls of the palace. The air reeked of smoke and copper, the stench of a battle waged unseen from the opulent drapes of the throne room.

The Collector smelt the fetid air, and their nose shrivelled. They stuck their tongue out in disgust and gagged with a comical “bleh!” before inspecting the warlock. “Does your house always smell this bad?”

At this, the warlock's eyes widened as if he had been struck by a revelation. “Are you,” he stammered, his defensive posture slacking, “are you here to turn the tide of this war? Have you finally answered my calls?”

With the fluidity of someone drifting underwater, the Collector leaned forward and slowly rotated until they were floating on their back. “You could say that,” they replied while looking at the mural on the ceiling instead of at the warlock. “I'm here to play a game with you.”

The warlock rushed to the balcony, clasping the guardrail and screeching his excitement into a city filled with soldiers shouting orders and peasants wailing.

“Adonai speaks to us!” roared the warlock, shaking his staff in the air and raising his hands to the sky as if reaching for the heavens. His raspy voice carried on the arid wind and sank into the mob below to evoke a clamour of responses, the loudest of which was the chanting of the name Adonai.

He whirled around and flung himself at the space below the Collector. “Great One, grant me power so that I may purge this realm of those who speak ill of my rule!”

The Collector floated back to an upright position, and they looked down at the grovelling warlock with a face of indifference. “Power?” Placing a hand on their chin, they squinted and hummed in thought. “You mean like all the magic in this world?” They outstretched their arms as if to illustrate the size of that much magic.

The warlock nodded his head so fast that the Collector wondered if it was going to pop off his neck. “Yes, yes! All the magic!”

A smile began to spread across the Collector's face, a foreboding and devious kind of smile. “Okay!” They turned and threw up their hands in acceptance. “But I'll need tribute.”

A sprinkle of relief crossed his face, and some of the tension in his shoulders released at what he perceived to be a simple task. “Of course, I can fetch you any number of souls.”

The Collector balled their fists and extended their arms to rigid positions at their side. “No!” they barked, and the warlock cowered. “I need one soul in particular.”

They then chose silence for a bit instead of giving the next detail, eyes drifting. “This soul is gone.” The noticeable pause before the word “gone” was a glaring sign that it had been substituted for something more final. “It's in the netherworld.”

Pointing his staff at the Collector, the warlock spoke with a booming voice. “Pray tell, O Great One, how may I locate this soul?”

From the space between spaces, the Collector lifted an amulet of blue and grey. It bore the same design as the one around their neck: the darker face of a crescent moon slotted against a lighter half-moon. “Take this,” they said, “it'll light up if you're getting close.”

The warlock held the amulet with his right hand, and with his left hand, he waved his staff in a perfect circle. “It shall be done,” were his last words to the Collector before a portal to the netherworld opened at the end of his staff.

A miasma of sweat and decay flooded the throne room when the warlock returned in a mess of panting and pallid skin. He fell to his knees, scrambling to catch the glass jar under his right arm before it hit the floor.

Levitating on the inside of the jar were the amulet and a ball of light, a soul.

Within seconds of his getting up, the warlock was bombarded with a pushy voice asking, “Did you get it? Where is it?” The Collector was floating upside down at his eye level and lurching after him every time he stepped back or recoiled in any way.

As soon as he pointed it out, the Collector snatched the jar and zoomed past him as if seeking privacy.

The warlock sunk into his robe and glared judgement over its collar as he thought they were going to shatter the jar and devour the soul like some ravenous beast, but they came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the balcony.

The Collector loomed over the jar for longer than was necessary, dragging their fingers across the glass and drilling their unblinking stare into it. The soul moved in the opposite direction of wherever their hand went, but this prompted the Collector to hug the jar in a fit of delighted laughter.

They pressed the jar to their chest and squeezed it while kicking their legs and spinning in midair.

“Great One, my magic! What about my magic?” The haggard voice of the warlock badgered the Collector in their time of joy, prodding them like a stick used to poke a sleeping bear.

Following a slow turn of their head, the Collector looked askance at the warlock as he stumbled closer to them with an impatient sweep of his staff. “You want magic?” they asked, curling their lips and narrowing their eyes into a devilish look.

The jar levitated out of their grasp and hovered in front of them. “Here you go!” The Collector outstretched their arms, and when they clapped, all the magic born in that realm was ripped from its place.

Gales of strong winds flowed into the throne room as every window and door was flung open, banging against the walls in a rush of whooshing and howling.

Rivers of light and colour, magic in the form of a vibrant ooze, plunged into the warlock and enveloped him in a blinding tornado.

The whites of his eyes swallowed his irises and pupils, and his feet lifted from the ground. The length of his staff tripled, as did his spine until he was contorted into the image of a demonic prince ready to command the legions of hell.

Horns like jagged antlers sprouted out of his skull and twisted themselves into the shape of a crown. The warlock's neck sagged from the weight of it, but he had no time to care when his jaw widened to accommodate the birth of yellow fangs on each side of his mouth.

His bones split, his muscles tore like the fabric of his clothes, and his body started to dissolve under the stress of the transformation. His fingers became elongated and curved into deformed claws, stripping away the cuticles and nerve endings until his hands went stiff as if struck by frostbite.

Cracks dashed across his skin and allowed droplets of magic to seep through them. The breaks in his skin began to peel and glow, forcing streams of magic to gush from his ears, nose, eyes and mouth in unstoppable torrents.

“It's too much! It's too much!” he bellowed over the sound of his skin crackling and blistering from the searing heat of the magic tearing him apart from the inside out.

With the last bit of vitality still clinging to his bones, the warlock extended his hand and reached out to the Collector for help. No one answered his plea, for there was nothing but an empty room looking back at him.

An explosion of overwhelming light then filled the throne room and brought his painful yells to an end. The warlock had splintered into pieces and imploded, leaving only his staff to clatter to the floor.

The cheers from the masses were deafening, but the Collector had not stayed to listen.

* * *

THE DEWDROPS of a recent drizzle hung on the branches and leaves of trees, blowing into the air with each gust of wind and landing on the Collector's face in cold plops. Some of the dewdrops flew to the sky after touching them, while others were repelled off their skin and sent back to the trees as if time had reversed.

A subtle glow invaded their eyes, and the Collector outstretched their arm and pointed their palm at the square of land in front of them. They hovered like this for a moment before squeezing their hand shut into a tight fist, twisting their wrist and cocking their head along with the motion.

The grass was torn from the earth in clumps of stringy dirt. Roots, seeds, and pebbles were swept onto the breeze surrounding the Collector like a shroud, and the petals of flowers split in twain glided in circles around the gaping hole in the ground.

From the depths of the earth, rising from a dark grave as if pulled by invisible wires, came a half-decomposed skeleton. There were no clear remnants of who it once was, save for a few scraps of tattered clothing and the rush of joy that filled the Collector at the sight.

Whereas the grass was ripped off the ground as if the ground had stolen it and deserved to have it taken away, the skeleton was slowly lowered to the dirt like a priceless piece of china meant to be handled with the utmost care.

The Collector floated down to a kneeling position at the side of the right arm. When both of their knees were submerged in the dirt, the wild breeze that had churned plants and branches like a typhoon fell silent. It stopped as if struck from the air by a mighty hand, and a wave of leaves and sticks then rained on the disturbed land.

None of this debris was allowed to touch the Collector or the skeleton. It had been deflected by a gust of wind every time it came near, falling around the pair in a cluttered and dense circle.

The Collector cupped their hands and held the shape close to their face. They pressed their palms together before cupping their hands again, and then a brilliant light spawned in the space between their hands.

It was a warm ball of light that started to flicker and shrink like a dying candle, one that contained the life essence of a soul displaced.

The Collector's eyes began to glow as the smile on their face stretched. They maneuvered their hands around the light but never touched it, instead choosing to hang their head over it and whisper, “Let's play together again soon, okay?”

The soul flared, burning brighter and whipping the air.

Under the silvery eye of the crescent moon, the Collector shoved the soul into the ribcage of the skeleton. A jolt rocketed through the bones in the form of both arms and legs twitching as if hit by a defibrillator.

Bones that had been threatening to dissolve and break apart collected fragments rolling up and out of the grave, fusing back together into a skeleton so complete it would have made an archeologist cry.

With a loud crack, the lopsided jaw popped back into alignment with the rest of the skull.

Fractures in the spinal column and right femur vanished as if waved away by a magic hand.

Crooked teeth were straightened, and bad knees were healed.

The flesh and innards returned with the blue of veins; the purple of blood vessels; the cartilage of the nose and ears; the red of muscles turning to the colour of skin; the body filling out with organs and fat—a crime against nature that did not go unnoticed by the great Titan in the sky.

You lurched up in a fit of screaming, shrieking at the agony of being dragged back to life. Your physical form reassembled around you in a mess of writhing tendons and misfiring nerves, and the Collector watched it all with a slow tilt of their head.

The unnatural length of their smile stretched wider as if they were playing with building blocks and had arranged the blocks into a funny word.

The shrieks spilling out of you were uncontrolled and mad, becoming clearer with the addition of a tongue until the issue of a limited lung capacity and a stinging throat forced you into silence.

As your new brain grappled with a flood of old memories, it spread a buzzing tingle throughout your skin that was like dozens of needles poking you at once.

Your breaths were quick, shallow scrambles for oxygen that you had grown unaccustomed to needing. Remembering how and when to breathe was an invasive and uncomfortable experience, for the air running through your mouth and puffing out your chest was akin to someone sticking their arms down your throat.

With the eyeballs fresh in your skull, you could see this corner of the world tucked away in a forest under a moonlit night. The taste of rain on the air; the smell of pollen; the dew on your skin; the hordes of trees; the chatter of nocturnal animals—it was all too much, an overload on your senses that had your legs kicking and your arms flailing.

It was then that a pair of small arms encircled you. An equally small body leapt onto your side with an eager burst of laughter.

They hugged you as a child would hug a stuffed animal, eyes closed and head resting on your shoulder. They seemed at peace, but just as their patience lasted no longer than a five-minute game of hide-and-seek, your frantic movements caused them to open their eyes and look at you.

The unearthly glow of their red and yellow eyes, like a pair of lanterns in the night, awakened a memory so deep that it bypassed any thought and sent you scurrying across the dirt. Cold and damp soil was crammed under your fingernails as your hands flung wads of it in every direction.

The Collector jumped up with the crescent moon framed behind their head, which cast a long shadow over the front of their body and dunked every bit of it in darkness except for their eyes. “You want to play tag already?” they asked, feet beginning to lift into the air.

There came no pain from moving your neck; no wrenching in your chest; no wobble in your knees; no brain fog to suck the thoughts out of your head—a vile disease had been ousted from you.

For the first time in decades, you stood without nearly toppling to the ground on knock knees. Having such control and energy to spare was akin to the weightlessness of a bird in flight.

It was not so easy for your mind to return, and the scraps of memory and consciousness floating around in it were more confusing than enlightening.

A jolt then ran through your body, like a painless punch to the gut. It recharged you with the high of an eternal sugar rush.

The Collector was holding their index finger in front of where your heart sat, pointing at the organ as they looked at you. “You couldn't stay before.”

The glow in their eyes brightened, and a maddening hum invaded your ears. “I'll make sure that never happens again.”

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

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badgrrlscoven · 1 year

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Hey hey! May I request headcanons for luz and hunter (separately) with a S/o that's to innocent for their own good but at the same time always manages to get themself into some sort of trouble. (gender neutral pronouns please)

Luz and Hunter with innocent s/o headcanons

a/n: oh i had so much fun doing this! i hope you like this as much as i do, if you want anything changed at all you can message me :)

luz:

- she honestly thinks you’re just super adorable

- this simple thing called common sense goes over your head and to her, you’re just a witch version of king

- def gives you the “who’s a whiddle guy” look when looking at you for too long

- she will tease you relentlessly for your innocence, and again, your dumbass won’t always understand or you’ll pout

- now for the danger part 😭

- Luz believes you can handle yourself just fine but the poor girl also has a hero complex

- she has made to help you with any tussle you somehow manage to get yourself into

- a lot of ‘oh nos’ leave her mouth when you give her the smile that tells her you most likely did something…again

- Luz will most definitely help you from any problem and support you always, but i know for a fact this girl will tease you about it later til’ your whole body is red with embarrassment

- the trouble you always get yourself into is always stupid or because you did/said something stupid

- you’re her ‘innocent whittle bwean’ as she likes to call you in that voice

- you: you know, warden wrath’s face looks like a bunch of mashed snake butts

- Warden Wrath in the distance just staring you down before charging

- Luz, face sweating and dragging you away: ThEy DIdn’T mEAn iT!!!

- conformatorium escapee buddies together

- you both definitely have wanted posters for different things and honestly, it makes Eda very proud

- You have no idea why she’s proud though

hunter:

- in the beginning he’d probably point out how innocent you are, maybe accidentally making you feel stupid but this would never be his intention with you this boy absolutely adores

- (Probably cause he hasn’t really had a chance to experience love just yet and he may be mildly obsessed with you)

- only titan knows how this boy doesn’t lose his mind sometimes

- he completely adored you but you worry him with how innocent you can be

- honestly, you both probably have the whole ‘dumb x smart’ dynamic going on (you’re not stupid, just super naive but super cute so dw)

- this boy will be explaining something and if a question pops in your head, you ask it. sometimes he’ll pretend to me irked, but he loves sharing any information he knows

- SO MUCH FLUFFFFFFF

- he knows he’s uptight sometimes but he tries his best with you to grow and be lenient with your innocence

- it’s honestly a surprise when you two start officially going out because he is a very big rules and authority person abut because of the trouble you get into it’s sort of out of the norm for him

- you’re his little way of rebelling against belos even if you may not realize it :)

- now, after the whole belos ordeal and you’re all in the human realm hunter would be different around you a bit

- More laid back and chill

- he’s such a smartass about your innocence, cracking jokes about your questions and acting a bit of a know it all

- He’d be happy to answer questions you have without problems

- his ass would trick you and answer the questions wrong and would just watch the chaos that would ensue from this

- flustered.

- that is the only word to describe this boy and how your innocence affects him

#golden guard x reader #the owl house x reader #toh x reader #the owl lady #toh golden guard #hunter the owl house #hunter toh #incorrect toh quotes #toh belos #toh the collector #Toh Luz x reader #toh luz #toh headcanon #headcanons #toh headcanons #scenarios #yandere toh

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shalotttower · 4 months

Text

Pholcus phalangioides

Title: Pholcus phalangioides

Fandom: The Collector (2009). Can be read as an original inspired by the source, because I took some creative liberties.

Summary: There's a spider in your bathroom, it lives under the mirror cabinet and you a) don't want to kill it, and b) are too scared to touch it, so now you can either keep giving it one side eye after another, or ask your neighbour for help.

Word count: 4000+

Characters: Asa Emory x Reader

Notes: yandere Asa, spiders and insects descriptions, stalking, voyeurism of sort - Asa watches Reader without her realizing it, kidnapping, vague hinting on body horror, non-con touching, Reader is socially awkward. Asa is not 100% in-movie-character Asa (he actually talks lol), a huge chunk of him is based on my headcanons.

You have this problem - a spider problem, to be precise. Not that it's too big of a deal, but...it also is.

Spiders are generally okay.

They eat unwanted guests, like flies and mosquitos or even other spiders. Make cool webs, which is probably one of the most complicated forms of art, not to mention a mathematical pattern to it - a combination of radial and circular symmetry. The golden ratio in nature.

In general they're important for keeping a backyard ecosystem nice and intact.

But.

But there is a spider in your bathroom, right under the sink cabinet, with thin legs, a long body, and of course - eyes. Quiet, kept to itself, really chill spider who doesn't move much except to crawl around a little and sometimes look at you when it catches you looking.

It probably lived in hiding somewhere, before deciding that dark spaces weren't up to its standards anymore and making an appearance. You haven't swatted it away, caught it, struck it with a paper - mostly because you're not good at killing living creatures, and secondly because the spider isn't doing any harm, just observing your every step, and generally being present.

When you check your makeup bag, it watches. When you brush your teeth, it watches. When you close the cabinet door it wiggles and your heart goes "ee" as if someone shocked it with a static charge. This yellowish-brown witness of your everyday activities, silently approving and judging, lately makes you feel like a nuisance in your own bathroom. You desperately wish there was a way to make it move to another corner. A less centralized one, less straight in your face. Yet the thought of touching it makes you cringe inwardly; your mind conjures images of different scenarios involving spider-related unpleasantries - accidentally squashing it, or getting bitten and dying a slow, miserable death.

It's gotta go.

Because the more you see it, the more your brain tries to assign it human features. And the longer it stares, the bigger the chance it might grow a pair of lips to say "get out of my bathroom".

The thought comes to you in the morning while setting a breakfast plate on the kitchen counter. The house is quiet, all windows are open and you stare through one of them at your neighbour's fence. You rarely see him, though the parked car is always a giveaway of his presence. Emory, that's what the mailbox says, and he has a neat garden, not an extravagant type, but everything is carefully trimmed and arranged into simple patterns.

There's even a stone bench by a small tree. Does it actually get used on sunny days? Probably no. He seems like a loner, from what you've seen so far: tall and pale, with wire-rimmed glasses and still grey eyes. Very focused and put together, a turtleneck and dark trousers kind of Mister. Never waving when passing by, though he does glance sometimes - sharp and attentive.

Once you caught him leaning over a bush with back straight and head hanging low. Your stomach gave this funny, nervous twitch, like when a stranger tries to start a conversation in public. He looked your way and then resumed whatever he was doing.

"Whatever" appeared to be something small, sharp limbs and a shiny body. It looked like a beetle, stretched to an absurd degree, and the way he held that thing felt strangely intimate. The same way you'd cradle a baby animal in your hands, rubbing its forehead with a fingertip. Emory put it in a plastic box, sealed it, and went into his house, not sparing you another glance.

This particular memory - of long fingers and a careful grasp - is what makes you think that maybe, possibly, theoretically, he could handle one pesky spider for you. You've seen him with insects a couple of times after, no doubt Mr. Emory is one of those who glue bugs to display boards. The creepy friend in the bathroom must be right up his alley then.

Five minutes later the two of you are staring at each other in awkward silence. Bothering barely acquainted neighbours isn't usually high on your list of priorities, especially if said neighbours look like they prefer being alone. You know it's odd, you know it probably crosses some boundaries, yet here you are.

With a crease on his brow and a tight mouth, Emory isn't thrilled at this sudden visit. Maybe he was in the middle of something, or is just uncomfortable with people invading his space. In any case, you clear your throat.

"Good morning. I live in the house across the road. The white porch? With-"

"I know," it's a dry reply. Not rude, more matter-of-factly; his eyes are fixed on you with a hint of unsettling peculiarity which makes you shift from one foot to the other.

He's not pest control, you think. Or obligated to help in any way. Emory can tell you to kindly fuck off right now and close the door, why did you even come here? It's stupid and intrusive. You're almost ready to take it all back and go home, pretend like nothing happened and just deal with that spider yourself, when he speaks again.

"What do you need?"

He has a quiet voice, a very even direct tone that doesn't encourage small talk, but prompts answers. Now and without pointless filling.

"I know how it's going to sound," you start, cringing inside, "and apologize in advance for bothering you, but I had an impression you collect...bugs."

"Insects. Arachnids."

"Right. So I was thinking if you'd mind removing a spider from my bathroom. I don't want to kill it, but I can't- I can't touch it."

His gaze slowly shifts from your face to the house behind you. As if Emory has an x-ray vision, or a complete mental map of your household layout. Ha, this would be ridiculous. There's no apparent disapproval in his pale face, but something else, a different kind of assessment. Evaluation of how much it is worth spending time on someone with an overgrown lawn? His eyes return back and you feel pinned down.

The longer he stays silent, the more you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole.

"If you can't I totally understand-"

"What kind of spider?"

It's your turn to stare. How are you supposed to know, you've never studied spider biology. It looks like any other common variety, except creepier because it refuses to leave its spot and stay in the sewer where it belongs. "I...light-brownish, with long legs. Thin? Slender," there's more you could add but any further description will probably make you sound like a total dunce who can't recognize basic arachnids. "Kind of big."

You expect a 'sure', maybe 'I'll be there shortly' or 'no'. What you get is Emory moving past you and walking up your front porch. The scent of laundry detergent and soap, very clean, hits your nose before you rush to open the door.

"Uhm. Second floor," you explain, awkwardly shuffling after him. For the first time since the day you moved in, you worry about what someone might see inside the house. As far as clutter goes, your place is acceptable, perhaps a few forgotten cups around and yesterday's sweater thrown on a couch. Surely, it's not too bad.

Emory, however, doesn't seem interested in the surroundings. The staircase doesn't even creak under his weight, despite the house being around a century old. He steps over the little border which always makes you trip if you walk too fast, like it's not there. Like the corner you often bump your hip into doesn't exist either. He navigates your home with effortless precision, an inward kind of certainty that makes your eyebrows rise. Maybe...the houses on your street have the same blueprint.

Either way, he walks into your bathroom without hesitation, turning on the light. You hover by the doorway, unsure: should you offer something to drink, ask him if he needs anything else or just step away and leave him to do his thing?

The spider is there, hiding under the cabinet, when Emory leans over to observe it. He's probably seen many different specimens, you think, and this isn't interesting at all compared to the ones who have an intricate design or unique behavior.

"She's a part of the Pholcidae family," Emory says suddenly. Just like that there's 'she', instead of 'it', and the spider twitches and shifts. "Daddy long-legs. Harmless."

He puts his palm up close to its back. At first, it seems startled, but after a moment slowly calms down, and moves a leg - left then right - getting familiar with his hand.

"Docile creatures," Emory continues, while the spider walks along the edge of his palm. No running around, no random leaps, stick-like limbs touch and probe him with curiosity, much like you'd study something new. "They stay in the dark, hide in the corners while feasting on smaller things. Your intruder is a useful tenant."

It makes you feel slightly nauseous, how nonchalant he is about holding something that prompts recoil on instinct.

"Do you want to hold her?" Emory turns to you and there's a faint, strange smile on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes and makes him look like an alien who tries to mimic human expressions based only on observation. His pupils are so dark that you can barely tell the difference between the irises and the rest. They seem bottomless, absorbing all light, but reflecting none in return. You take one step backwards, shaking your head.

"I'll pass."

He keeps staring at you for what feels like forever before returning his attention to the spider crawling on his skin. Emory reaches into his back pocket for a small container.

"Are you not setting her outside?" You ask. "She...she doesn't look like, uh, a rare species."

Not that you're an expert.

"No," Emory closes the lid with a quiet click. "She isn't one. But I'm going to keep her."

And he does. The little captive spider rests at the very bottom of a plastic case when you send the man on his way and thank him for the help. Emory accepts it with a nod, no further words, and then there's only his back when he leaves. The morning air rushes in, crisp and fresh, smelling like grass, tree leaves and soil.

It feels like you blink, and three days go by. You still keep an eye on the bathroom cabinet by some sort of habit, however there's nothing out of the ordinary lurking there, no creepy critters and definitely no thin legs scattering in multiple directions. All is well, now you can brush your teeth, take care of business and even lean close without fear something might fall on your head.

It's just a spider. You googled it later, and how common it is around the continents should be a bit ridiculous. Keeping it might equal to going on a beach and picking the most unremarkable pebble you see; Emory certainly could find hundreds more Daddy long-legs wherever he pleased - parks, gardens or forests.

So...why?

The question gnaws at you, together with that smile and cold grey eyes hidden behind glasses' frames. The weirdest part wasn't the expression, it was how you couldn't read it. Despite the obvious display of human emotion, however misplaced and alien, it failed to reveal anything. The smile was there, and yet nothing broke through it, not amusement, nor politeness - or any kind of feeling whatsoever.

Your neighbour is odd.

Not necessarily scary, though there's a sense of mystery surrounding him, it makes you feel like standing next to an iceberg and only seeing its tip. Or you've just read far too many psychological thrillers and your imagination likes to conjure up the wildest scenarios, trying to turn each and every thing into something sinister.

Maybe you should just chill and get some tea, and stop being so dramatic about a guy who came over and politely removed a spider for you.

They're not a unique species. Not even remotely uncommon.

He taps the container gently with his index finger, making the spider move back and forth. She doesn't have venom, no poisonous chemicals to injure and kill. Hiding in abandoned corners she does, patient and careful, waiting to catch the wrong fly.

You're just like her. Nothing exciting. Not unique.

Your movement patterns are similar, concealed in a different package you're still predictable: getting home from work, cooking dinner, watching TV shows. Everyday routines.

Fear is a part of your nature. Awkwardness which comes with socializing: you shuffle when uncomfortable, avoid prolonged eye contact and don't like confrontation, he noticed this right away. A quiet type, keeping mostly to yourself unless you need something urgently; and then you rush, like a scared Daddy long legs. There's this shiftiness, an inner desire to be less visible, but also a yearning for recognition because the lack of it hurts. And he saw all those small things, catalogued them one by one, as you moved into his street and became a constant presence.

Asa has never thought about keeping something - someone - so mundane before. Never. He likes rare things, spectacular, and those collected in the basement, they all are, especially when he's finished with them. They're extraordinary, displayed under glass cases and preserved for eternity.

He doesn't collect common species. Daddy long-legs are abundant everywhere around him.

But.

There's the way you linger by the kitchen window during the morning routine, slowly sipping hot coffee. When your lips purse and eyes lose focus for a moment. Or how the corners of them wrinkle sometimes when you have a genuine, amused laugh. It's something like warmth. There's no label for the feeling - positive, negative or neutral, it just is, like one single, meaningless element in an ecosystem.

He shouldn't want someone so average.

And yet Asa watches from the corner of your living room, crouched on the floor by a plant.

You don't hear him, too invested in your personal bubble. Well, he had enough time to polish his craft and figure out how soundless he can be when moving through spaces, how much weight he needs to place onto soles to avoid creaking wood and floorboards.

It's interesting to see you interact with your environment, unaware of being watched. There's an invisible pattern behind each action, even if you think everything is randomized. The web you wove around yourself is cozy, and Asa follows its threads while you check the phone and frown at whatever notification pops up. He is considering. Contemplating this impulsive desire he has yet to identify.

Would it be worth it? Keeping you. Adding you to the collection and seeing what comes out of it, how far his usual approach might take him with you in the same conditions. You're just a face with features. So...ordinary. He wants to pick you apart and look inside to make sure it's not some strange sort of mimicry, camouflage of a different nature hiding something else entirely.

There's this vague idea how those features may feel when touched. He can recall them accurately, even when you've never stood too close. Asa watches quietly from his hiding place, memorizing a displeased mumble and then a frustrated gesture.

You seem so alive.

Those below who are frozen in time now were too, before Asa decided to give them a purpose and make something special and worthy of his attention. They were alive like you, but now they're something better.

What purpose you have remains to be seen.

Asa decides then.

A plain trunk is nestled in the corner behind a coat hanger, no fancy latch or keyhole needed, only an ordinary padlock. You'll fit in nicely, squeezed in the cramped space, it won't be the most comfortable experience, but it's not for long and then...then he can show you the room where others stayed before, and where you'll be next.

Asa looks around one last time: the front door is locked, blinds down, lights off - you get up from the couch and head upstairs, right on the dot. Your house is easy to navigate despite the darkness; Asa knows his way around it, having been here already more than once. A step after a step he follows the soft padding of your bare feet, and when the steps halt, he pulls out a cloth. It's a heavy kind of pleasure to be able to stand right behind and admire your nape, there's a strange sort of vulnerability to it.

Something raw and very exposed.

It takes only a few movements, he catches your yelp into one of his hands and holds it clasped tightly as you thrash. Your nails dig into the fabric of his turtleneck but fail to leave any marks. He's never tired of it, the initial fear of his specimens realizing that their secure habitats are ruined. He doesn't mind this fight for survival.

"Shh," Asa breathes into your ear. "Shh."

The struggle doesn't last long - you're not a fighter - and when your body goes limp, he picks you up. Your perfume is surprisingly light, a very sweet and pleasant aroma, not overwhelming at all like he'd expect it to be.

It's nice.

He puts you in the trunk, a boxy space barely big enough to fit you curled on the side, it's going to take around thirty minutes to reach the hotel and another three to put you in the right cell. You'll sleep the rest of the journey, which is fortunate for everyone. It's always easier to deal with a specimen if they're resting.

The lock clicks softly - it's time to go home.

Something runs down your cheek - a drop, a bead of sweat, a touch - and you blink, trying to make sense of it. The surroundings are unfamiliar, blurry shapes with undefined outlines that stretch and wobble before your eyes. Your jaw hurts, clenched so hard that teeth grind together, and it takes a conscious effort to relax.

Where...what?

The living room, a TV program, a soundless whisper that froze the hairs at your nape, then someone was behind you. You remember a sickly sweet smell, and after that nothing but a haze and the dark, and the sensation of being squeezed into a shape. Your legs feel numb, arms too, like you spent hours immobile in one position. Slowly the world sharpens back into focus, but instead of relief there's only dread.

You're in a room.

No bigger than a regular bathroom and void of any furniture beside a cot-like bed, a toilet in the corner and a sink. The walls are a bluish-gray with thin cracks, tiny fissures that create uneven lines from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

And there's a man, observing you quietly through the thick glass.

You don't notice him immediately, too busy assessing your new location, and when you do the air feels heavier, difficult to move past your throat. He's wearing a mask. Black rubber or something, covering everything except his eyes. He presses two palms against the barrier separating you, the silence stretches into an eternity.

'Who are you? What do you want?' - these are kind of questions you should be asking, but they don't come out. You remain glued to the spot, counting the passing seconds by their painful tick-tock-tick-tocks. One minute turns into two, and he...just stares without moving a muscle in a beyond unnerving manner. Your gaze dips lower to check his clothes, perhaps find a pattern to identify this person later.

There's none. Everything is plain black, like a uniform made to be invisible - turtleneck, pants, even gloves and boots.

It seems that your silence somehow pleases him, because a few moments later he leaves without looking back.

You don't know how much time passes; there's not a window around, only a bare, stark bulb, yellowish in its brightness and casting unpleasant shadows all over the floor. Not a single sound. Traffic, voices of distant passersby or birds - all is absent and doesn't provide even a bit of understanding where the hell you are.

In the end, you...sit down on the bed and wait, because what else is there? Everything is eerily silent and very, very uncomfortable: this emptiness, the absence of noise, the endless ticking of an invisible clock. It's difficult not to cry, but you try your best, somehow it feels important to remain composed. There has to be a reason behind this. There must be one, and you repeat it over and over, like a mantra to soothe the nerves and present your mind with some semblance of logic: once you figure out what's going on, you'll figure out how to get out as well.

Pulling loose threads from your sleeve is poor entertainment, if anything, the strain of boredom and unease gradually grows into anxiety so sharp that you almost miss the sound of approaching footsteps.

He's back again, the masked stranger who stands in the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. A pair of light grey eyes is a splash of different color, but they are blank. They watch with distant curiosity of an animal trainer monitoring a newborn cub. The comparison makes something ugly squirm inside you. A part of you wants to make a run for it, the other keeps yelling that it would be immensely stupid.

One, two, three, four steps he takes into your cell. Your back meets the wall, the chill coming from its solid surface cuts right through the layers of clothing. Five, six. He stops only when there's less than arm's reach between you, then leans to brush away loose strands of hair sticking to your temples. Your stomach goes taut. This scent. Laundry detergent mixed with soap. The turtleneck, grey eyes, very collected kind of Mister.

A sickly shiver of revulsion shoots down your spine, making you curl tighter into a ball. Emory cups your jaw with both hands - they're cold even through the gloves material. This is too close, an unwanted and unpleasant violation of boundaries, and yet he continues to examine your face, like you're some sort of an object he can handle however he pleases.

Your cheek gets a light pat. Any theories about his identity stay unvoiced, mostly because you fear the reaction they might prompt. Something tells you that screaming is a bad idea too. 'Be quiet,' an insistent whisper says deep inside your skull, 'be still.'

His thumbs press to the corners of your mouth. "Open," he orders, and you can't not, even though the whole thing sounds and feels bizarre. "Wider."

There's a quiet click. A flashlight, of those small ones you can easily hold in one hand, shines right into your eyes, making them water from the unexpected brightness. "Don't bite or I'll remove all of your teeth."

It's a simple threat, delivered with such a calm tone, there's no need for yelling when words are that clear and straightforward.

He inspects your mouth, the edges of teeth and gums, your inner cheeks, and you let him, clenching your fists. There's not much you can do, at least that's what you keep telling yourself to ease the heavy, sinking feeling of powerlessness. Your mind chants 'too close' on a loop, urging to wiggle away; you stay. It's unclear what exactly he's looking for - dental or oral diseases, a sore throat, cavities, or the lack of them?

It lasts forever until he straightens back up and puts the light away.

"Good," Emory states. There's another pat to your head before he turns around to leave. "No biting."

The door panel slides with a soft hum, locking shut. And the silence, and the waiting, and the mind numbing monotony is back again.

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #the collector #the collector (2009)#asa emory #asa emory x reader #slasher fanfiction #slashers

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 7 months

Text

Yandere esque recommendation:

The Collector (1965)

(excuse inaccurate doodle of ML, but I liked his face while watching and wanted to sketch it)

Freddie Clegg ❤️

The movie starts very quickly, with him abducting his beloved within the first 11 minutes of the movie.

It isn't a slow burn, and is a more realistic film about a stalker. Genuinely great movie ❤️

#yandere #yandere movies #thriller #the collector 1965 #freddie clegg #shitty doodles #sketch #cw abduction #cw drugging #cw death #great movie #movie recommendation #can't focus #sorry i haven't been writing I've just been watching horror movies

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apollowhoo · 2 years

Note

hello, this is my first request so i hope i don't say anything wrong.

fandom: The Owl House

May i request yandere!The Collector x Reader who is like one of the elite people please?

you can ignore if you want

(changed my profile a bit :D)

btw The Collector goers by he/them and i'll be going by ''him''

Yandere!The Collector x Reader

I don't reallt know what you mean by the ''elite'' thing but i'm guessing the people from the Emperor's Castle???

so one day you were requested to bring ''supplies'' to Emperor Belos. You were pretty nervous but you were not showing it. When you came up to his room, you hear chattering but once you entered the room..there was only one person, who was Emperor Belos. You didn't really mind the situation, i mean he could've been talking to himself, who knows. He kindly asked you to leave the supplies on his table. The moment you putted the box, a lamp fell and almost crashed your fingers. You where obviously confused because that lamp wasn't there before and even if it was how did it fell over? You were certain that you didn't hit the table. You looked at the lamp confused then you started hearing giggling. This sounded like a little boy. You looked around to see no one other then the Emperor. The Emperor asked if you were okay. You answered with a simple nod and left. You waited in front of the door for a few seconds. You started hearing that similar chatting in the room. Perhaps there was someone else, that somebody was probably hiding or something. You didn't wanted to question the situation, you had more important stuff to do anyway.

a few weeks later that incident, your parents asked you to give a note to the Emperor. You (didn't had the right) couldn't say no to your parents. So you went back to the Emperor to give a simple note. This was the second time that you where going to face him. The first time didn't ended well and you know that this mistake shouldn't happen ever again. You knocked...no answer. You knocked again...no answer again. So you slowly opened the door to see that he wasn't there. You quickly came in his room and putted the note on his table. Once you where about to leave, you heard the similar giggle again. This time, you really needed to know who was there. You turned back to see no one. You looked into the empty room for a while. You really thought you were paranoid or something. You really were curious about the giggling but there wasn't anybody there. You decided to leave, you wouldn't want to be seen in the Emperor's room anyway. When you held to the door knob you heard the voice again. ''Aw c'mooon! I wanted to play with someone!''. You looked back confused. The only thing you could've said was ''what?''. You let go off the door knob and started coming back. You really wanted to know what you assumed a little boy. ''Okaaay...where are you then?'' you asked. ''That's for you to find out!'' , it answered. You started gazing the Emperor's room to find anything that might be a clue or something only too see a mirror? You weren't so sure if it was a mirror or not. You picked it up ans started looking at it. It had a moon on it. Then out of nowhere, you saw it. What you thought was a little boy. You weren't sure what it was. It looked like a soul or something. ''Yay! You found me!''.

Ever since then, you guys are friends. I mean you never really had friends because, in The Emperor's Castle there weren't any kids around your age and you're not allowed to leave the castle (for safety reasons). So The Collector was technically your first friend. Buy hey that wasn't something bad, was it? You guys always played games together, chatted, tried new and interesting stuff. You guys were like best friends!! He would often tell you about his memories before well, turned into this form. You really wanted to know his human form too. For obvious reasons, your friendship had to be secret from everybody in the castle, especially from The Emperor. The Collector always fantasied about being with you, only you. He adored you truly, you where is playmate after all! ''When i turn back into my human form, we will live a perfect life! Just you and i, no one else!!'' He didn't understood the point of having a ''crush'' but he certainly had one for you. He always felt the need to protect you. He adored you so much. He also would've got jealous of other people who were talking you, even your parents. He probably is clingy too and you don't have a problem with that, why should you have a problem with it?

THE COLLECTOR HUMAN FORM

you where shocked. You didn't know what you where expecting but, it wasn't something like this. You hate to admit it but you kinda found him attractive. But you can't feel that way, he's you friend- best friend! This felt wrong and right at the same time. When he first saw you, he was exited! He immediately hugged you tightly. The hug felt very good. This was the first time you felt the heat of you friend. He always talked about how he would hug you when he turned into his human form and there it was. He's probably so exited to be back like this! He also has more control over you. Well you still think that he likes you as a friend and only as a friend but babe, that's not the case at all. He just starts talking about everything that you guys are going to do. You're pretty exited to be with him, you want to be with him forever, there's just that feeling. The Collector by know, realised his feelings as well but he doesn't want to lose his playmate. So after a while, The Collector just can't handle it. Your smile, voice, eyes, lips... everything about you was driving him insane. He needed to confess to you, he really didn't had any other choice. He just came up to you and told you. Simple as that. You where confused as to his confession. You really thought this dude was pulling a prank on you or something but no, he was being serious. After making sure that he was in fact serious, you accepted him with a bright smile!

when you both start dating, he's more obvious with his protective nature. He doesn't want you to be with anyone else. He's kinda selfish with you, doesn't like to share you. You're his and he makes it very clear to you. I think he has a very very soft side to you. He just loves cuddles! He would cuddle you anytime he can. He also kisses you a lot. He kisses your lips, cheeks, hands, neck anywhere he wants. He truly admires you, he's like your number one fan or something. I also think he just picks you up, and go all the way up to the sky and then both of you can watch the starts from a better view. He can be the big or the small spoon (mostly small though). He melts away when you do any kind of physical affection to him. He makes sure no one dares to hurt you. If someone does hurt you, they will suffer for the rest of their very lives. You guys probably play games as usual, nothing that different other than way more cuddling and kisses!

(oh wow i didn't expected to write this long)

#the owl house #the collector #toh collector #yandere male #soft yandere #stories #toh #the owl house fandom #the owl house x reader #toh x reader #headcanons #toh headcanon #the owl house headcanon #yandere headcanons #yandere stories

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owlish-owlhouse · 1 year

Note

Like odelia the collector makes the reader play family with them as an older sibling. The reader before all this had been belo's assistant/prodigy that he had been a platonic yandere for. How would it go for reader when they are helping odelia moving the collector's collection when belos possesses raine

This is from the new episode and contains some pretty big spoilers. I will be tagging as Owlhouse spoilers for a month after that I will be removing the spoiler warning.

...

Holding your clipboard close, you mark off jobs that you'd finished as you walked through the castle. While Collector told you that you didn't need to really work since you were his friend/family and not an assistant like you'd been with Belos you liked having things to do. It kept your mind busy.

"MamaDalia! MamaDalia! Sibling (Y/N)! Sibling (Y/N)!" Looking up from what you were doing you smiled as the Collector came back with King. Flying through the window and sending the silky purple curtains in every direction his star hovered over the marbel floor.

Rushing forward to meet them putting your clipboard off to the side, you noticed Terra wasn't with them. Confused at where she'd gone Collector jumped off the star and into your arms while King grabbed the edge and slowly lowered himself to the floor. Collector seeing King was on the ground snapped his fingers making glitter explode everywhere as the star burst, his magic making it disappear.

About to ask your brother where your old teacher was a shrill voice caught your attention. "Welcome back." Odalia stated before she bowed to the Collector. You shook your head not understanding why Collector kept her around but stayed quiet simply smiling at the star child in your arms.

"Oh you would've had so much fun! You should've come with us!" Collector cheered as he bounced in your hold. "But gosh Terra was so mean!" He complains. "You're way better than her!" Adjusting him as his tiny fists clutch the fabric of your star themed shirt so you'd both be more comfortable, one arm kept him supported while the other ruffled his fluffy white hair. While you didn't love the idea of the last of your mentors being turned into a puppet you knew there was nothing you could do now and just continued messing with his hair.

He giggled at the touch leaning into it and you held back tears at the realization of what happened without you to supervise the Collector and familiarity of this situation. Remembering how Belos and the other covenheads used to ruffle your hair before...

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath you open them only to see Collectors watching you, his face unnaturally close to yours as he tilts his head.

"Next time, promise." You state before holding out your pinkie. Belos was gone, he was a liar who hurt your friends and deserved what he got. Besides Collector was a much better boss and a way better friend. While he did things that upset you and sometimes even scared you, he was young and he was learning.

Collectors giggles become louder as you interlock your pinkies. Nodding at him shaking the pinkies you seal the promise.

While you loved a majority of Collectors games, like comet Chasing and star riding and dress up and tea time, you had a hard time seeing all those puppetified people. Especially when so many of them were people you knew and loved. So you'd asked Collector to stay back while he went out with King. Shifting uncomfortably you looked around the grand hall, you couldn't avoid it forever. And because of your promise you'd have to go out with them next time they went out playing. It was because of your selfishness Terra got puppeted, the last of the covenheads now just a toy for the Collector to play with.

"You went quiet!" Looking down at Collector he tilted his head at you confused. King also stood at your feet tugging at your frilly star pants clearly trying to get your attention.

"Oh?" You question, blinking owlishly at the two of them. Collector giggled before lightly booping your nose. While you knew he'd never hurt you the action still made you go stiff as Beloses form dripping down the wall was forever seered into your mind.

"You need to listen better, you're always telling me to listen and yet you're always spacing out. Maybe you're the star child." He teases as he throws his arms out causing sparkles and stars to fly in every direction. As he bursts into another one of his giggle fits you chuckle in response trying to loosen up. Maybe things weren't perfect here but they weren't bad either. As much as you missed your friends you were happy they were safe in the human realm.

"Maybe I am." Tickling Collector in response to his sass he begins squirming and kicking in your arms as you continue to play. King wehs softly and you pick the both of them up holding one of them under each arm. Spinning with them safely in your hold despite the look Odalia gives you, you laugh with them.

"This is fun!" Collector states with a smile before he hums as you stop. Humming back in response with a smile he slips out of your grip and hangs upside down staying eye level with you. Shifting so you're now holding King with both arms he nuzzles into your hold. "King says he needs to check on the Owlbeast, can you and MamaDalia put our friends back in the Collection room? Then we can play more after!" He cheers before clapping.

Hearing a loud thud and a screech you turn only to see Odalia get covered in puppets. Holding back laughter you let out a snort before covering your mouth. She glares at you as you shrug innocently as King laughs a bit.

"Of Course Collector. See you soon." You state before giving King a forehead kiss goodbye and putting him down. Collector waves and snapping they're both gone.

...

"No put that one over there! No no no over there! Making a deal with that brat was such a waste of time." Odalia states stamping her foot as she looks away from Raine and groans into her hands. Speed walking down the hall towards her and the puppets you'd left her with your seething. You'd stepped away for one second, one second to check on Eda and King whole Collector was napping and she pulls this while your gone???

Turning towards her glare dripping with malice you snap your fingers making Raine pause. As the former covenhead looks at you the other puppet lying in their arms as they wait for orders you want to strangle Odalia. She had one ounce of power and she was already letting it get to her head. Maybe they were puppets now but they were still people inside, people you intended to someday free.

"Odalia!" The woman turns towards you with anger in her expression before she stopped. Out of the two of you, Collector valued you much more and she knew it.

While Odalia had known about the Day of Unity for years and served Belos faithfully you'd been oblivious to his plans despite being his favorite student and friend. She often looked down on you when you worked together and held a deep jealousy of the favoritism Belos held for you. You never knew why she treated you the way she did until Amity and the Twins had told you the truth about the Day of Unity and Beloses plans and made you question everything you knew. She used to have the edge, she used to have control, but now she was at your mercy. After all Collector was your friend and he liked you more.

"Watch your tongue." You warn. "And be careful! You might not care but these puppets used to be my friends. And Collector and I would be very angry if they got even a single scratch on them." Stepping towards Raine you put your hand on top of there's observing the state they were in.

They simply stare off into space not responding to your touch. As much as you begged Collector wouldn't give them back, he wouldn't free them. He saw how they treated you throughout the years from his mirror, and he didn't like it. He didn't like them. While you promised it wasn't as bad as he was told, Beloses lies had crept deep into the young star child's mind. He believed himself to be your savior for making them harmless toys that could never hurt you again. Items that you now controlled and commanded like they'd once done to you. Sighing you swallow before looking to the ground. Asking for Eda and Lilith was pushing it, especially since Collector assumed they were beasts and not witches. Pleading for the covenheads after he had given you so much was asking for trouble.

Feeling a tear drip down your cheek you rubbed it off and turned away from both Raine and Odalia so neither of them could see.

"I just wish someone would see my potential." She whines to you. Feeling a new sense of hatred fill you, wishing Collector would turn her into a puppet you turn sharply rolling your eyes at her attitude only to freeze. "What?" She demands before pausing as a shadow falls over her. Taking a step back your hands tremor as her eyes widen.

"... bel-belos your alive?" Taking another step back hands beginning to shake more violently you can't take your eyes off him as he looks over the two of you. Reaching a claw out to touch you, you flinch tears escaping your eyes as the adrenaline from the situation hits you. Heart rate quickening as tears drip down your face he quickly pulls away and turns his head. Blonde rotting hair falls over his shoulder as his hand hovers in place.

"I need a host." He states, jaw clicking unnaturally as he speaks. His goop drips off him like sludge, falling to the floor with sickening sounds and leaving a slimy trail as bones and rotting flesh become exposed. You're disgusted to see the state he's in and enraged he's still alive. As some of his green goop falls onto Odalia's shoulder she squeaks brushing it off before she stares up at him fearfully, face to face with his drooling sneer. He tilts his head and his bones crack under the sludge as his body shifts. "Oh yes I think you'll prove to be quite useful." He states claws scraping against the floor as he struggles to keep his decaying body upright.

"M-Me?" Odalia questions hand coming to her chest to point at herself as her voice becomes high and she begins stuttering.

"No." Clenching your eyes shut and holding your arms out Infront of you terrified of what he'd do to you now that he was back, now that he's seen you'd switched sides, you feel your hair shift from his goop as he lunges behind you. "YOU!" He screams before attacking Raine and forcing himself inside of them.

"RAINE NO!!!" You beg running forwards towards them to stop it only for Belos to already be done. Goop dripped from Raines mouth and Belos simply hummed rubbing it off with an annoyed look. Hands glowing with magic you glare at him, them, it. "LET GO OF THEM!!!" Seeing Raines body move, hearing the wood creak you flinch ready for an attack only to pause.

"(Y/N) oh how I missed you." Feeling the tears you'd been holding back fall freely they hum tilting their head. Craddling your cheek with Raines hand, it's no longer Raine. It's their body, their face, their voice, but Beloses glowing blue eyes stare back at you. Smiling softly as green begins to creep across Raines cheek, their wooden fingers wipe the tears off your face as you start shaking. Before you can pull away Belos is using Raines arms to cage you close. Struggling against him, feeling goop drip out of their puppet body and onto your skin they pull you closer. "... But I can't have you getting in my way."

Feeling their grip on you tighten you begin to panic. You try and scream but some of Beloses goop wraps around your mouth and nose, stopping you from breathing or making any noise. Struggling against them, kicking and clawing trying to get the goop off, Belos uses Raines voice to shush you as he keeps you pinned to their body. As you struggle thrashing around, you find yourself getting more and more tired until the world's fading to black.

"Sweet dreams (Y/N)... when you wake everything will be as it should. I promise." And with that you become limp in Raines arms, Belos now controlling what happens to the both of you.

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