#he just needs a slightly terrible backstory... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minty364 · 3 months

Text

DPXDC Prompt#128 Part 4

Danny could tell Jason was getting upset over the things he was telling him. He wanted to open up and tell him more about the past but it was painful. Eventually Danny might tell him the full story about how he died but for now focusing on what they needed to do from now would take priority.

Jason took a moment to calm himself down before speaking and Danny was a little afraid of breaking the silence, “alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” Danny stayed silent waiting for Jason to continue, “I don’t like that belt, we’re getting rid of it, and then, I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

Danny felt a little confused; it felt like Jason really cared about him even if they just met. The belt only shocked ghosts so he figured his soulmate would have little problems taking the belt off of him so he nodded his head. He was tired and even if he didn’t 100% trust Jason yet, if they were truly soulmates, Jason wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

Jason reached out and gently touched the belt. It gave him a little shock and he tossed it away as soon as it was off Danny, who felt his strength finally returning. He took a few deep calming breaths, it's been quite a while since he was able to just exist without something terrible happening. He had forgotten what it felt like to have full access to his powers and ectoplasm again that the feeling felt amazing no matter what pain he was in. He could finally tap into his powers such as accelerated healing, which was already working on the damage on his chest. He was trapped within that facility for only a few months but the damage was already done. Being forced under the knife for days at a time where they treated him more like a dead body than a person had really done a number on his psyche.

“Damn, I hated that fucking belt… Thank you” Danny finally said, Jason was silent the whole time just watching his hand where the belt had slightly shocked him.

Jason took a few moments to process everything that happened and then sighed, “Why’d it shock me? You said it was set to shock you right?”

Danny glanced away and took a moment to think of what exactly to say next, “I’m not 100% sure actually. The belt shouldn’t shock a normal person.”

“The fuck are you then?” Jason’s sudden harsh words shocked Danny and he knew he let something slip, “... I accidentally touched it when I was you. That wasn’t a light shock like I just got.” Jason was still looking at his hands but when he looked up to see how terrified Danny was his face softened a little.

Jason took a shaky breath before speaking again, “You’ve been through enough, I… know I can be… intense, I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.” When Danny stayed silent he continued, “You mentioned ghosts earlier.” Jason paused again waiting for Danny to respond.

Danny wanted too but he felt himself a little too scared to respond. Jason’s raised tone reminded him too much of how the GIW agents would berate him over everything.

Jason sighed deeply and leaned back on the sofa, “alright, I won’t pry, but I think I know why it shocked me… I’m just trying to figure out why it shocks you so badly.”

Danny could tell Jason was just worried about him so even though he didn’t want too he spoke up a little, “I know the reason it shocks me…” Danny said slowly and softly, “and I want to tell you, but I’m honestly a little scared. I haven’t had to tell someone this before and it honestly isn’t a pretty story.” Danny’s words were genuine, he really didn’t know how to even begin to explain to someone. It felt like something he shouldn’t say, not that he didn’t want too but if felt wrong down to his core.

Jason nodded his head, “I get it, I’ll be honest, my backstory ain’t too pretty itself.”

Honestly Danny didn’t know how he felt about that, knowing he wasn’t alone in hardships was both alarming and comforting.

Jason nodded again, “Alright, I get it’s a touchy subject, you can talk about it when you’re ready.”

———

Jason was a little peeved but he got it, he doubted if he could keep his cool when talking about his own death and revival. He was wondering if maybe being thrown into the pits might have something to do with how he got shocked by that damn belt. Danny didn’t seem to want to talk about that and Jason wanted to know but he also didn’t want to pressure him into talking about something he didn’t want to. He was a little pissed at himself for how he scared his soulmate.

Jason was also pissed this was how they met, he wanted to be the one to pull that trigger and even though he thought it was kind of hot that his soulmate finished the job, he was also jealous he didn’t get to pull the trigger himself. Danny said he had a fear of clowns and he was determined to keep him safe.

Jason was a little bit of a romantic and he wished he had a proper meeting like most soulmates got but instead he got whatever the fuck bullshit life Danny had.

Jason took a deep breath after realizing his thoughts were spiraling out of control. He still had to figure out what exactly was after his soulmate, romance could come after he knew how to keep him safe.

Master Post:

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #poor danny #Jason didn’t mean to yell he’s just really on edge #Danny’s going to have some trauma to work through #I’m not sure where I should take this so if anyone has any ideas let me know #That goes for any of my prompts I could honestly use the help #Writing can be difficult and I’m not used to writing #all my prompts are free to use #my asks are open #I’ll go through and fix all of the links today I’m too lazy to do it right this second though

463 notes · View notes

feartoxinjelloshot · 4 months

Text

clipsverse SWAP AU! for fun! character elaboration under the cut because it gets kind of wordy:

selina's deal is pretty straightforward: she has the typical “saw parents die as a child" backstory, but she’s obviously not a millionare so she’s operating out of some kind of condemned underground parking lot... somewhere. authentic gotham grunge i guess. she’s a functioning alcoholic and i am obsessed with her. she's a hardboiled detective like batman, but tends to be a bit more cynical - sort of like if rorschach from watchmen was a normal person and also didn't hate sex. firefly is her "guy in the chair" similar to what alfred is to batman in canon, minus the surrogate parent part, obviously. public opinion is pretty split on if the bat is a man or a woman under there. i don't really have swap ideas for the robins ironed out, but i'm thinking that cass and stephanie are her robin and red hood equivalents (cass being dick, stephanie being jason). cass would have an allblack bird theme going on, so she might be "crow" or "blackbird" instead of robin. dunno what stephanie's red hood rendition is like. purple hood? i'll figure it out eventually.

bruce’s parents are alive, but he has a terrible relationship with them and with his own wealth so he mitigates the guilt complex by dressing up as a cat to steal and redistribute resources to people who actually need it. he could probably do that in daylight but there is something very wrong with him. i don't think his dumb slutty playboy persona is entirely genuine even without his parents' deaths, but he does lean into it more and incorporate parts of it into his vigilante persona over time. i think this version of bruce is just generally very lonely under the surface. he tries to be normal in his daytime life and he's very bad at it - theft aside, in a certain sense being the cat(man? woman?) is his own break for freedom; he felt a need to plunge himself far into the deep end of what normal society calls a 'freak'. ...writing it out like this, we're probably lucky he didn't start killing people. fortunately batman isn't really that kind of guy in any universe.

meanwhile on the other side of the rails: ivy! her deal is slightly unformed right now due to the fact that the hatter and the joker also swap places in this au - so the hatter is a dangerous, evil mastermind intent on controlling gotham to suit their whims, and the joker is... just a harmless silly little guy. yeah. i don't have swap-hatter's exact personality ironed out yet, so detailing his and ivy's dynamic would be difficult, but i can say that while she is his loyal second-in-command at his table of advisors, she is also plotting against him. ivy is a consistent loner in both mainline cv and here, and while she doesn't have the same tumultuous, antagonistic, emotional relationship with him as harley does with the joker, she is also frankly not interested in being his number one until the end of time. she wants to do it herself and she wants to do it right. this is an ivy who, in lieu of her own world-altering gift, is scraping tooth and nail to successfully supersede the most powerful entity she can her her hands on. the hatter is blissfully unaware of this - we can't all be perfect.

harley, for her part, is very tame in comparison. she mirrors ivy's canonical backstory pretty closely: an esteemed scientist studying stem cell relations who was denied funding, mocked, and forced to experiment on herself to prove a point, unwittingly connecting herself to a worldwide hive-mind of plantlife. this version of harley, while still dressed as a scientist, is far more surface-level emotionally volatile than mainline ivy, more impulsive and irrational, and probably willing to lean much farther into the classic poison ivy reputation as a villainous seductress, to varying degrees of honesty and success. it takes ivy an incredible degree of patience and control to maintain the mental and physical balance she strikes with the green, and this version of harley has far less of both. she lets it use her body as a conduit of earthly rage and she lets the poison infect her skin and organs until mottled and decaying. she's not unhappy, but she's not exactly stable, either.

jonathan is a mysterious, faux-sleazy lounge singer who lost his left arm to a snake bite infection as a child and thereafter became obsessed with the symbolism of the balance of life via games, tricks and questions - winning and losing, birth and death, etc. the ouroboros is a common symbol in his theatrics. he possesses a certain degree of social confidence that the mainline jonathan has never quite been capable of - while he doesn't have the same fervent need for attention as edward, he takes a compulsory delight in the mental influence he achieves on small crowds and will employ many avenues to get ahold of it. he's certainly not outgoing: he keeps almost entirely to himself offstage, uninterested in fame outside of his show persona. unlike mainline jonathan who views the scarecrow as a genuine self-inflicted diety, this jon sees his persona as more of a mantle or responsibility that he must take on in order to discover new truths about the world. like his canon counterpart he is asexual and uninterested in sex, but i imagine that he has less qualms about leading people on as an act to get what he wants from them. he's not terribly famous in his singing career, but he's become a bit of an underground legend for his resolute 1920s-inspired style and occasional genuine debonair charm.

edward in comparison is not nearly as ritualistically compelled as mainline scarecrow, but he’s far less cagey about his own machinations and his mental relationship to them: he lives in a tricked-out barn somewhere on the far outskirts of gotham, and he spends his time as a propmaster creating elaborate saw-trap-esque haunted houses and escape rooms to invoke panic in his “guests”. he wanders the halls of his own houses along with the guests, repairing and tinkering, or just scaring the shit out of them. he also makes a genuine living by making and selling cosplay props and other related objects online; he's developed a bit of an internet presence through this channel, though he's not as fixated on it as the mainline riddler would be. he still craves spectacle and attention, but he's more of a "quality over quantity" guy according to his own standards and is rarely happy with the work he creates, hence the endless roundabout of creation and reinvention.

#that got long mamma mia #edit: fixed some typos. my personal hell #scribbles #clipsverse #swap au #batman rogues #batman #catwoman #poison ivy #harley quinn #jonathan crane #edward nygma #cvswap

295 notes · View notes

ckret2 · 5 months

Text

On chapter 30 of The Writer Uses Misleading Graphics To Trick You Into Looking At This Fic About Human Bill Being The Shack's Prisoner: Summerween part 2! Bill wheedles Mabel into helping him make a costume. Mabel wheedles Bill into spilling some of his preciously-guarded secret backstory. Ford is kind of in awe.

Also there's like 4.5 drawings in this chapter. They're all very silly drawings.

####

Bill wouldn't tell Mabel what his costume was—"I want to see who can guess it"—but all it needed was a brown bedsheet, a long red wig, cardboard (to be drawn upon), and flip-flop sandals.

The bedsheet was the easiest to acquire. Dipper's barely-worn brown sandals were just slightly too big for Bill but Mabel helped tie them on with yarn. the shack's cardboard supplies were still depleted from making Bill's triangle mask, but they could make do with paper and popsicle sticks. Mabel didn't have a red wig but she did have a blonde wig and red markers. Since Bill was, by his own reporting, terrible at drawing, Mabel offered to do the fancy artwork if Bill did the tedious task of recoloring the wig. He claimed he'd feel like a mortician putting makeup on a car wreck victim, but nevertheless accepted the deal, and they settled in around the living room table to get to work.

"So just a bunch of houses, right?" Mabel asked, starting on the first drawing.

"Ancient Greek-looking houses," Bill said. "So, marble and columns. Don't think too hard about the details—this is a 21st century American costume holiday, not a historical reenactment. You can slap columns on anything and call it 'Greek' and every human in town will buy it."

"Do ancient Greek houses have chimneys?"

"No," Bill said. "But adding one would be funny."

Mabel considered that, weighed up the value of historical accuracy against entertainment value, and decided giving one house a chimney would be funny. She gave the whole house a thick black outline in marker, and pulled out crayons in black, white, and whale blue to quickly add some light shading to the marble.

Mabel didn't think she'd ever seen Bill focus so hard or so quietly on anything the way he did on coloring that old wig red. He was giving it more attention than he did his own hair: while his golden locks were a tangled, uncombed, soggy mass shoved dismissively over his shoulders, he was dying the cheap wig (and his fingertips) strand by plastic strand with the bright-eyed morbid fascination of a third grader studying a pack of ants as they disassembled a bird's corpse.

This was the longest she'd been around Bill without conversation—usually, you couldn't even walk into a room without him immediately chattering at you like the motion-activated animatronics at the Summerween store. It was hard to think around him. Bill didn't give you room to think.

What did Mabel think about Bill?

He was right, she was still mad about the mall. No—mad wasn't the right word—mad was his word—she was scared. She'd never really stopped being scared of him, if she was honest with herself. But everything he'd done that day, from tricking her into trapping herself to reminding her of almost dying, had just reinforced why she should fear him.

But. She thought he felt bad about it. And she didn't think she'd ever seen him feel bad about anything before.

Maybe that meant her experiment was working. Maybe he was changing. Yeah, he was still scary—but he was Bill Cipher, he had a lot of scariness to work through. He was moving in the right direction, and she wanted to encourage that.

He hadn't apologized for the mall; but, since he'd tried to make up for it at the time, and that was a sort of apologetic action, Mabel decided she could tentatively forgive him for that day—provided he continued to improve. Put him on forgiveness probation. And that meant they were on friendly speaking terms again.

Which was good, because the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable. She surveyed her art for something they could talk about.

After a couple of as-historically-accurate-as-she-could-imagine houses, Mabel had started varying up the designs by redesigning houses she could remember off the top of her head with columns and white marble. She'd made a stately marble Mystery Shack, and a columned-covered doppelgänger of the house with the terraced yard across the street at home, and then she'd decided to make a Greek-ish version of her own home. "Hey Bill. Have you ever seen my house?"

"In person? No. But it came up from time to time in you kids' dreams, so whether I've seen it depends on how accurate you think your dreams are," he said. "It has less plants and more windows in your brother's dreams than in yours."

Mildly disturbing answer, but not disturbing in the direction she'd expected. "What! You mean you haven't haunted our neighborhood or anything? I don't believe it."

"Do you think I spend all my time stalking random humans? Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, seeing it in dreams isn't good enough!" Mabel pulled over a blank paper. It was hours until trick-or-treaters showed up, they had a little time to waste. "I'll draw it!"

"Wow, really?" Bill looked up from his wig. "You're not worried about letting the big bad triangle see your house?"

"Come on! You already know where I live, right?"

Bill immediately rattled off, "1337 Fairview Drive, Piedmont, California, on the northeast side of the street where it's less hilly."

"Exactly—you creep. So who cares if you know what it looks like, too?"

A square, sky blue house with two stories and a triangular roof; a big living room window on the left, a covered door on the right, three windows on the second floor, and a chimney. Mabel had drawn her home plenty of times—but doing it for a friend (?) was different from doing it for a teacher or a librarian, and she put extra effort into the rose bushes under the living room window. She added her and Dipper's smiling faces in the upstairs windows and Waddles's face downstairs in the living room.

"Waddles sleeps in the kitchen, but he basically owns half the yard to wallow in. This is my room, and here's Dipper's—I get three windows, but Dipper has the biggest window and a bigger room, so it's fair, no matter what he says—"

"Oh, you two have separate rooms now?" Bill was leaning halfway around the table and craning his neck to see the image right side up.

"Uh, yeah? Since we were ten?"

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't know how you'd expect me to know that. You both still dream about sharing a room."

Mabel paused and tried to remember how often she dreamed about Dipper in his new room. Sometimes she woke and was still disoriented to find her bed in the middle of the room instead of against one wall with Dipper's on the other side. "Huh."

She added a few more details—the front steps, the gate, the shingles. (Bill watched nervously as she pulled out the gray crayon to color the driveway—but she didn't notice how it had been tampered with.) She talked about her home, and in turn Bill told her weird things, like that Dipper often dreamed of monsters coming out of the fridge. When she finished, she autographed her name with a star on the "i" in Pines, offered it over grandly, and said, "Here, you can keep this!"

Bill accepted it without the customary effusive gratitude with which one ought to accept a generously-gifted original artwork from a 13-year-old prodigy. "What am I gonna do with it?"

"That's your problem!"

"Fair enough!" He checked his leggings for pockets and, when he didn't find any, set the page on the table by his elbow.

Offering accepted. As Bill resumed coloring his wig, Mabel picked up another piece of paper and got to work on the next columned house. "What does your house look like?"

Bill stopped dead, looked straight at her, and said, "My what?"

What was weird about the question? "Your house! Or whatever you lived in before you came here. You came from somewhere before you tried to invade Earth, right? You didn't just pop out of somebody's dream."

Bill laughed. "Yeah I did!"

"Bill."

"4500 years ago the construction workers of Egypt had a shared nightmare about the immense tombs they'd spent the last century building—"

"Biiiill."

"—and when they awoke they found the combined psychic energy of their terror had spawned a sleep paralysis demon more powerful than Ra! So then I ate their souls—"

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being so serious right now."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine! I get it. You're embarrassed." She shook her head and returned to coloring.

She felt the combined spiritual energy of hundreds of imaginary Egyptian construction workers beating down on her face from Bill's eye. Like a laser. "'Embarrassed'?"

"Because you don't have a house," Mabel said. "I think it's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed! I don't think you're a loser or anything. It's just kind of sad—"

Bill snatched up a blank piece of paper. "You want a house? Fine! I'll show you a house." He grabbed up an orange crayon, muttering, "It'll put your stupid overpriced shed in California to shame— Where's the ruler—?" Mabel tried not to grin.

For several minutes, he was perfectly silent. Mabel glanced over to see him coloring with three crayons at once, only for him to shove a hand in her face and snap, "No peeking."

Mabel got through two more drawings before Bill slapped down his paper over Mabel's. "There! How about that?!"

She looked at the drawing, which Bill had helpfully labeled "Party Central!" in red crayon. A great stone pyramid so dark brown it was nearly black, with bricks outlined in brilliant gold and molten orange and fiery red, and a sharp multicolored X hovering above it—

Mabel gave Bill a flat look. "This isn't your house, this is your Torture Temple."

"The what? Hey, is that really what people are calling it?! It's not the Torture Temple, it's the Fearamid!"

Despite herself, Mabel burst out laughing. "You named it the 'Fearamid'?!"

"It's a pyramid and humans fear it! It's genius. Portmanteaus make great names."

"What's a portmanteau."

"It's a word made from the unholy Frankensteinian fusion of two other words. Like getting 'electrocute' from 'electricity' and 'execute'!"

"Or 'romcom'?"

"Yeah, or that."

Mabel considered the drawing. "If you want to scare less people, you could call this your Bill-ding."

"HA! Oh, I'm saving that."

"Anyway, this isn't where you live," Mabel said. "You were there for like a week tops!"

"Yeah, before your great-uncle killed me. I'd still be living there if it weren't for you jerks." He stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Bill. I showed you my house. Draw where you grew up or something!"

"What's wrong with the Fearamid?"

Mabel crossed her arms. "Why don't you want me to see your real house?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Eh, you know what? Why not. If you're gonna be so ridiculous about such a silly thing." He pulled over another piece of paper. "But if I don't have enough time to finish coloring this wig, you have to help me."

"Fiiine." She returned to her own drawings as Bill got back to work.

After a long silence—longer than he'd taken to draw and color the Fearamid—he said, "Okay, done. Here." And he pushed over the paper with one dismissive finger.

She eagerly accepted the drawing—and frowned. There was nothing on the page except for a straight flat black line, interrupted by three line segments of bright blue and a cluster of red and green dashes. "What is this?"

"Where I grew up," Bill said, innocently, already back to coloring the wig. Mabel could see his mischievous smirk. "As seen from the front. Just like your drawing of your house. So we're even now."

Mabel's brows furrowed as she stared at the page in confusion. "What...?"

"You do know I'm from the second dimension, right? A universe that's flat like a piece of paper. I figured Sixer would've told you all about it by now." Bill picked up the drawing and held it between his and Mabel's faces, so that, viewed from the edge, all Mabel could see of the paper was a thin flat line. "What do you think the second dimension looks like to somebody in the second dimension?"

Mabel took the paper back, looked at the underwhelming flat line representing the front of Bill's house, and said, "I hate you."

"We had the prettiest roses in the park," Bill said, pointing at the red dashes. "Crayon really doesn't do them justice."

"Shut uppp."

Bill laughed at her; but then, to her surprise, he said, "Okay, all right, I guess a big fancy 3D creature like you can't understand the nuances of two-dimensional sight. So, here." He flipped over the page. "Top down view."

The back of the page had what looked like a floorplan. A narrow room on the left, a large L-shaped room, a tiny room nestled into the L's top right corner, and a medium room on the right. Little shapes filled the rooms—furniture of some kind?—but she didn't see anything immediately recognizable like a top-down bed or table and chairs. Green and red spirals dangled off the bottom of the floorplan.

"I'm no Edward Bishop Bishop, but it gets the idea across," Bill said.

She studied all the strange little figures in fascination, looking for anything familiar. She pointed at a few shallow bowls filled with blue sticking out of the wall between the L-shaped room and the tiny room. "Are these sinks?"

"Hey, you're pretty sharp. Sinks and the tub."

"So the little room's the bathroom."

"Right again." Bill pointed out the rooms on the floor plan. "Master bed's on the right, kitchen and living room in the middle—and you found the bathroom—and second bed's on the left. That was my room! The one with a million books," he pointed at a wall with countless tiny multicolored lines coming off of it. "I was a big reader as a kid. I've always been an intellectual."

"Who was in the other bedroom?"

"I never really went in there, who cares." Bill made a dismissive gesture. "I think there were some desks and stuff in there too, but I didn't bother to draw them since I never used them." He picked up a yellow and a black crayon and added on to the drawing, dexterously turning the crayons in his hand to switch between colors without setting either one down. "I spent most of my time in my room." He'd drawn a little yellow triangle with an eye. He picked up a red crayon to point an arrow at the triangle and label it "Me!" "I didn't even have to leave the room to see the TV. The perks of psychic powers!"

Mabel wondered which of the weird shapes was the TV; but before she could come to a decision, she was distracted by the scale of Bill drawn in his room. Maybe he'd just drawn himself big, but he seemed cramped in that narrow space. And he'd hardly have room to turn around in the bathroom without his corner smacking something. "It looks pretty small. Is that normal on your home world?"

"Ah, I rarely spent time at home—it was just a place to sleep between speaking engagements," Bill said. "I was always on tour. Living the life of the rich and famous! Hotels, jet planes, and tour buses!"

Mabel shot him an irritated look. "You said this is where you grew up."

"This is where I grew up! I got an early start making my fortune. I was already famous by the time I was, uh..." he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Developmentally, I think I would've been about equivalent to your age. Maybe a bit younger."

How much of all this was true? It didn't feel like a lie—and she couldn't see how he'd benefit from lying about any of it, except maybe claiming to be famous. So it probably had to be true. He'd actually made her a drawing of his house. Even after he'd complained about being so bad at art. She beamed at him. "Thanks, Bill. Your weird alien house is neat! I like the squiggly spiral flowers! Are they actually roses?"

"They were the flower that everyone mentions in poetry and that you have to bring home when your wife is mad, so, same basic function as roses," Bill said. "Fun fact, they grow in spirals so that they're pretty on the outside, but—"

####

"—but have more surface area to absorb sunlight on the inside," Mabel said, pointing at the flowers. "Alien biology! And the orange things are couches and the colorful box in front of them is his TV, and Bill says he could watch TV through the wall but he never really liked TV, he preferred live performances—maybe we should take him to a musical! And the little sideways cushions on the walls are their beds because gravity goes to the left because their house faces east—I have no idea why!—so, I guess that's their 'floor'? But if that's the 'floor,' Bill didn't explain why all his books were on the 'ceiling' without them falling off, and..." Mabel trailed off, giving Ford a concerned look. "Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?"

He was gaping at the drawing. "Wh—? Yes. Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never even got that slippery eel to admit he has a calendar system, and you got the blueprints to his childhood home?"

Dipper said, "Yeah, this is amazing. How did you get this out of him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything special," Mabel said casually. "Just drew our house and then suggested he was too scared to let me see his."

Dipper grimaced. "You showed him our house?"

"Don't worry about it! He already knows where we live."

"Of course," Ford said, taking a quick note in his journal. "Exploiting his ego. He's very proud; undermine that pride and he'll feel compelled to defend his honor." Ford had started goading Bill into giving away more than he meant to the same way. He wished he'd started doing it far earlier; but he'd spent so many years foolishly assuming Bill's pride was objective and justified that he sometimes forgot what an egomaniac Bill really was.

As Mabel had spoken, Ford had filled several pages with bullet-pointed half thoughts: dodges questions about the master bed—his parents' room?; no bed or bedroom for a sibling, he seems like an only child; "speaking engagements" is probably a euphemism, what was he doing to become a child celebrity; were his books his only childhood possessions or just the only thing he valued enough to draw; did he gain his "psychic powers" while amassing the power he needed to "liberate"/destroy his dimension? "Can I borrow this drawing to make a photocopy?"

"Sure! Don't forget the line on the back," Mabel said. "And you can copy the Fearamid, too! Did you know he named it the 'Fearamid'?"

"Oh yeah, I heard him call it that," Dipper said. "I think I recorded it in Journal 3?"

"I should've read that before we threw out all of Grunkle Ford's Bill stuff," Mabel sighed. She slid over the Fearamid drawing to Ford. "Bwop! He drew it tilting all weird to the left? He wasn't kidding when he said he's bad at drawing."

Ford studied the drawing and frowned. He lay his pen on the drawing to use like a makeshift ruler. "It's not 'skewed'—he drew the front face as a perfect equilateral triangle, and then extended a side on the right to turn it into a pyramid. It's poor perspective—there's no point of view from which one side would look like a perfect equilateral triangle and you could see another side, but..." He trailed off again as he made a note to himself about what this might mean about Bill's ability to perceive the third dimension and his artistic sensibilities.

"So he draws like Picasso!" Mabel concluded. "Oh! Bill mentioned a name when he gave me his house, he said he wasn't like Edward Bishop Bishop—and I remembered it because it sounds funny. Bishop-Bishop. Maybe he's another artist Bill likes? Or somebody who makes blueprints?"

"I'm sure I've heard that name. I think he was a mathematician?" Ford frowned. "I can't recall, though." He wrote down another note: Edward Bishop Bishop – mathematician/artist? Something to look up later.

Dipper glanced back and forth between Ford and Mabel as they talked, feeling his stomach sink at how excited they were and how easily they got along. First the mysterious disappearing crystal shop in Portland, now Mabel made this huge discovery about the guy Ford had spent years trying to learn about... Dipper swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he shouldn't feel jealous after he'd gotten Ford to himself for basically the past year. "I can't believe you found out all this."

Mabel immediately looked at him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Dipper winced. He'd realized a moment too late how he must have sounded. Quickly, he said, "I mean, it's great that you did! Finding out more information about him is great. But, like... investigating the paranormal is my thing. It's what I spent all last summer doing, and it's my dream job, and... and now, the biggest paranormal mystery in human history is in our house, and you're the one getting all the info out of him?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "I'm our official Bill spy, remember? I'm the one who made friends with him."

"I know, I know." He shrugged jerkily. "I'm just... kind of disappointed that I'm not prying eons-old secrets out of an alien demon. You know?"

Ford had paused in his writing to listen to Dipper thoughtfully. "I understand. When you're exceptional at something, it can be... difficult to share the limelight," he said. "Not because you don't think anyone else deserves it. You just don't know if you'll ever get it back."

Dipper's face heated up—he didn't want Ford to think he was bad at sharing, of all things—but he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Ford patted his shoulder understandingly.

"Aww," Mabel said. "Didn't you say that if we're running an experiment on being nice to Bill, you want to be in the control group?" She punched his arm. "Welcome to the control, bro!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed his arm and laughed weakly. "Yeah, okay, you're right. This is what I get."

Mabel said, "You should try talking to Bill! Maybe he'll tell you stuff too. He's really easy to talk to as long as you don't mind him sometimes saying creepy nightmare things."

"And as long as you're prepared for his mental tricks," Ford said.

"Yeah! Grunkle Ford's got a whole class for that," Mabel said. "He'll teach you about the BITE model! It's how cults sink their teeth into you!"

Dipper chuckled. "Sure. Maybe I will. We're gonna be at home handing out candy for a few hours, maybe I'll find an opportunity to interrogate him."

"You're not going trick-or-treating?" Ford asked.

"No," Mabel said, with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

Dipper elbowed her for her theatrics; they'd already agreed on what they'd do tonight. "We've got plans with friends. But we do get to wear matching costumes again."

"Creepy ghost children!"

"Ah," Ford said. "That explains your..." He gestured at them. They were wearing a suit and a dress, old-fashioned and gray, with tattered hems and dusty black dress shoes.

"Barty helped us put the outfits together," Dipper said.

"We still need to do our makeup," Mabel said. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What are you doing for Summerween?"

"Ah." He glanced toward the ceiling ruefully, as though he could see The Enemy in the shack through the many layers of dirt above. Summerween had been one of the things he'd missed most about Gravity Falls; even during his years as a reclusive scientist in the woods, he'd usually taken off Summerween and Halloween to hand out candy to the children bold enough to visit his house.

But Bill's eagerness to participate had sucked the fun out of the day. The thought of celebrating Summerween in the same house as Bill felt too much like celebrating with him. "Nothing, I suppose. I was planning to stay down here." He gestured at his desk. "Continue my research."

"What are you working on right now?" Dipper asked.

Ford quickly said, "Nothing. Just—the same research," and was immediately hit with a pang of guilt. Remember what happened last summer when you tried to keep secrets about Bill out of embarrassment? Reluctantly, he said, "I've... split some research duties with Fiddleford. While I'm waiting to hear back from him, I'm looking into—some magical knowledge Bill revealed. To determine how much of it's true."

Dipper looked puzzled. "Revealed when?"

Mabel slammed her hands on Ford's desk. "Grunkle Ford, you can take a break from gathering intel on the enemy for one day! It's Summerween! Promise me you'll do something to celebrate before the day's over."

Ford let out a huff, but smiled. He wanted to do something. Surely he could come up with something that would let him avoid Bill? "All right, I promise. I won't invoke the Trickster's wrath tonight. Could you leave your costume makeup in the bathroom when you're finished? I'll find something to do with it."

"Perfect!" Mabel hugged him; then grabbed Dipper's hand. "C'mon, let's finish getting dressed. The trick-or-treaters will be here any minute!"

"Okay, okay." Dipper waved at Ford as Mabel dragged him to the elevator.

When they were gone, Ford turned back to the papers Mabel had given him. Bill's childhood home... Assuming he wasn't lying, at least. But an entire blueprint seemed like a complicated spur-of-the-moment fabrication even for him. If Bill was lying, it was a lie close to the truth.

It was strange to imagine Bill as a child with a bedroom full of books. Strange to imagine Bill as a child at all. What did a young triangle look like? He couldn't imagine anything different from how Bill always looked.

The floorplan did look small. Smaller even than the apartment over the pawn shop had been. Ford tried to remember what the homes he'd seen in Exwhylia had looked like...

He raised his head as something the kids had said registered. "Barty? Who's Barty?"

####

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill inspected her box of crayons.

The wrapper around the gray crayon was coming loose.

He took the glue stick they'd been using to reinforce the paper houses with popsicle sticks and carefully stuck the wrapper back on.

The house was too quiet without anyone around to talk to. He hated the quiet.

From the corner of the living room behind the table, when Bill leaned on the wall, shut his eyes, and listened closely, he could faintly hear the hidden elevator. He headed upstairs to stow the drawing of Mabel's house somewhere safe, and then went to the downstairs bathroom to finish dressing for Summerween.

####

(Y'all I worked hard on those fake crayon drawings. Anyway I know we're all collectively going insane today over the book news but if you took time out of your day to read this, I'd love to hear what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

203 notes · View notes

tricktster · 11 months

Note

how long have you been getting burritoed... i love the thought of you guys being together for five years and you still fall for it every time

Slightly NSFW warning but the full backstory for the burritoing is honestly very sweet and i can take absolutely no credit for it being so.

so it has not been five years, it’s only been five months, but given that my tolerance for being in relationships can usually be measured in weeks, five months with me harboring every single desire to keep this going is saying something. but rest assured the burrito thing has always been a threat in this relationship. lemme explain.

see, i met my boyfriend the most romantic way a person can, in that i hopped on tinder one friday when I was bored and he was the most interesting person that night to ask me to grab a drink with him the following week. I agreed, with every expectation that this was going to be a one night stand situation. This was because I had already concluded I would probably sleep with him since he was hot and funny over tinder/text but also, more importantly, because I had decided to plunge back into the dating world after several years of being resolutely single by having what my roommate described as “a wanton winter,” which is a nicer way of saying that I was here to sleep around without any strings remotely attached. I had every intention of this being followed by a slutty spring, sexually-available summer, and perhaps even a fuckboi fall.

All this to say, I was not looking for an actual relationship when I agreed to “grab a drink” with the man who is now my boyfriend. In fact, even though he was categorically hunky all-round? I was by this point in my wanton winter not even optimistically hoping for a good time. I had recently re-discovered that hunky meant absolutely nothing, and was still haunted by memories of sleeping with an extremely attractive massage therapist who was not only terrible in bed but also read me a very bad poem that he’d written afterwards and started crying about the state of his life at one point and also his mom called like 11 times while he was over. Like, my expectations were subterranean.

Now given this background, i presumed that this guy would follow the established pattern set by every other guy i’d hooked up with during wanton winter; we’d go back to my place, fool around, he’d leave, and i’d get occasional “u up” texts from him for the next few weeks until one of us ghosted etc. so like it was a surprise - but certainly not an unpleasant one! - when he asked (a little nervously) post-hookup if he could stay the night. he didn’t want to impose, he explained, but he had a day shift the next morning and it was really late and his house was 24 minutes away and while he didn’t want to be presumptuous he’d thrown what he needed in a backpack just in case and also he wanted to cuddle and be big spoon.

well. this was a deviation. this possibly suggested more interest than just a one night stand.

ideologically i was opposed to the threat this posed to my no commitments wanton winter lifestyle but given that he was significantly cuter and funnier in person than he’d been online and also that he had just absolutely rocked my entire world for several hours(!!!) i was just like “yeah homie you are more than welcome to stay,” and decided against issuing my standard warning whenever anyone proposes sharing a bed with me that “I do not tolerate people attempting to cuddle me in my sleep well so don’t be hurt when you find me as far from you as physically possible tomorrow, and also you may be kicked in the process of me rolling away, and my toenails are inexplicably sharp so you may bleed.”

and then, you know, suddenly the alarm was going off, and he was extracting himself, unwounded, from the big spoon position that I had not felt the unconscious need to escape from all night, and I was just internally like “haha! i might be in trouble!”

that mighta done it on its own, honestly, the whole bit about him being the sole exception i have ever encountered to my instinctual need for space when i’m sleeping. but he was not done. he quietly got ready while i was mulling this development over in a state of half consciousness, and then? instead of slinking out into the barely-morning, that motherfucker very gently rearranged the bedclothes to actually cover me, gave me a kiss, said he’d text me when he got to work, and then the bastard tucked me in.

he then left me, the victim of the cutest goddamn nonsense that has ever happened after a tinder hookup, to process this unexpected turn of events.

I concluded that I was, in fact, in trouble.

so like… needless to say, that act of tucking me in was the death knell for my wanton winter, as well as my adversarial relationship with the concept of developing feelings. I am an extremely crotchety housecat that doesn’t like to be crowded who has unprecedentedly fallen incredibly hard for a wildly enthusiastic golden retriever, and our relationship is foundationally based upon this man’s desire to make me all snug and cozy before he leaves.

the burrito aspect was merely an afterthought. it’s all about the tuck-in babey.

374 notes · View notes

catladyoftheyr · 13 days

Text

Too Sweet (Ch 3)

Harvey x Reader

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

Summary: picking up off last chapters cliffhanger and diving straight into Harvey’s 4 heart event. You resolve the conflict after the incident with George, Harvey gives you a checkup, and you two share a jar of pickles in his apartment. 💘🥒

Authors note: I know nothing about the Air Force I’m so sorry. It’s just for the plot and vibes. He needed a backstory!!

Word count: 1.7k! A longer chapter as a treat

“Harvey! Oh my god why are you here? Wait, no, I don’t mean it like that” the surprise visit from the doctor had you stumbling over your words. “You scared me. And I don’t actually think your mustache is stupid. I just… I was really embarrassed about what happened earlier.”

“I actually stopped by to thank you for backing me up earlier. George can be stubborn, so I’m glad you got him to listen to you.” The doctor averted eye contact and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Oh uhhh, sure. How much of what I said did you hear by the way?” You hoped silently that he hadn’t heard you call him cute, especially since you’d been talking to a chicken.Harvey slid down and sat next to you on the floor of the coop.

“Just the part where you insulted my mustache,” he replied, stroking his own facial hair. “The farm is coming along nicely. You must be very dedicated to make such a turn around in such a short time.”

Oh thank Yoba you thought to yourself. “Thank you. I guess I’m trying to make up for lost time; I want to honor Grandpa’s memory because he loved this farm and the community. I used to spend a couple weeks here in the summer when I was growing up. I haven’t been back to the valley since I was a teenager. I didn’t think Lewis would recognize me when I came back.” You laughed quietly, an image of you as a gawky adolescent with braces coming back to you

“About earlier, we can put that behind us if you’d like. I didn’t mean to be short with you either. I was startled so I apologize for being curt.” Harvey looked at you with a kind expression before rising from the floor. “I’d like for us to be on good terms going forward.” He extended his hand and helped you up.

———————————————————————————

The bell on the door chimed as you walked in and Harvey’s head poked up from his paperwork. “Hey! Just the person I wanted to see today actually.”

“Oh?”

“I was about to write you a letter recommending that you schedule your annual checkup. If you don’t mind, I’ve got time today actually for a cursory exam.” Truthfully you weren’t very fond of hospitals, or doctor’s appointments. But you were also a terrible liar and had no time to think of an excuse. Better just to get it over with, you supposed.

“I can make it work.” You set the jar of pickles aside temporarily and followed Harvey to an exam room. You sat down on the paper, uncomfortable with the sudden formal shift in your dynamic. You’d gone from friend to patient in a matter of minutes. Harvey placed his stethoscope just under the collar of your shirt and you flinched at the touch of the cold metal.

“Sorry it’s chilly,” Harvey said. “Your heart rate is a little high. Do hospitals make you nervous?” He asked with a slight furrow in his brow.

“A little bit” you admitted. It certainly didn’t help that this was the most physical contact the two of you had shared since you met. He placed his hand on your shoulder and your eyes met. You felt your palms start sweating.

“Take a deep breath for me please” you did as instructed and tried to focus on anything else but the feeling of his hand on you. “Your lungs sound strong.” Harvey was in his element as he checked off the boxes of a routine checkup. He tested your reflexes, examined your ears and eyes, writing down his observations on his clipboard. “So far you seem to be in good health. I just have a few more questions about your lifestyle”

“Ask away, Doc.” Harvey seemed slightly flustered at the nickname but made a quick recovery. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and stood up straighter, clearing his throat

“As I was saying. Working on the farm involves a fair amount of physical labor I assume, so I’m sure you get enough exercise. What do you usually eat in a day?”

“Oh I usually just eat the foragables I find around the valley. There’s a lot of leeks and wild onions out now. I saw a weird looking berry the other day and I ate a couple of those. Sometimes I eat eggs from the chickens, or buy something from Gus for dinner.” Harvey was visibly stressed as he absorbed the information you gave him.

“I would highly advise that you eat a more balanced diet. Foraging is fine as a snack but it won’t provide enough energy for your activity levels. Eggs are good, but I’d implore you to try and eat from all the food groups”

“So this probably isn’t a great time to say I also eat the algae I find in the mines?” You’d never seen the poor doctor so stressed; you imagined most of his patients weren’t quite as odd as you.

“Let’s move on. How much sleep do you get at night?”

“6ish, sometimes less, sometimes more”

“Well, 8 hours a night is recommended but 6 isn’t terrible I suppose. But I’d encourage you to try and find a healthier routine. Farming is labor intensive and if you don’t give your body the care it needs you won’t be able to keep up sooner or later.” He had a look of genuine worry in his eyes and it pulled at your heartstrings. You’d only known each other for several months, but you sensed the beginning of a deep connection.

“I’ll try to be better,” you replied softly. You weren’t used to being chastised, but you understood he meant well.

“Thank you. You’re free to go and have an official clean bill of health from me”

“Well I stopped by to ask a favor actually”

“Oh?”

“I was wondering if you’d do me the honors of being the very first taste tester of my first batch of farm fresh pickles” you grinned and gestured toward the door “I left them on the counter.” Harvey smiled back and held the door open for you.

“I’d be honored. I’m actually about to close up for the day, would you like to come upstairs?”

The two of you headed upstairs to the small apartment above the clinic. Furniture was sparse and well loved, and there was a small kitchenette off the main room. The back wall held a large bookshelf that boasted an assortment of books and some small trinkets. Another shelf was lined carefully with model planes. There was a radio station in the corner by the window. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” Harvey said sheepishly.

“It’s great” you replied, eyes scanning the room with eagerness. You were itching to learn more about him. You took a seat on his small sofa, your heart nearly skipping a beat when he sat next to you, his knee inches away from yours. “You can have the first one” you offered, extending the open pickle jar toward Harvey.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Harvey reached in and plucked out a particularly large pickle before biting into it. His eyes lit up as he tasted it. “This is delicious! You’ve really never made pickles before?” You shook your head. “Well you certainly have a knack for it.” You grabbed a pickle for yourself and were pleasantly surprised at how good they were. You were glad he wasn’t lying to spare your feelings.

“What’s with the planes?” You saw Harvey get a far off look on his face while he thought about his response

“I��ve always been fascinated by aviation. I did a stint in the Air Force years ago. I wanted to become a pilot but it didn’t pan out. It ended up paying for my med school tuition though. The model planes are something I like to do in my free time. I find them relaxing, and they remind me of my time in service.”

“I would have never guessed that. Pilots and doctors are pretty different. What led you down this path?”

“I think I’ve always had an affinity for helping people. I joined the Air Force to serve my country; this feels like a way to serve the community in a different way.”

“That’s actually really selfless.” You toyed with images of Harvey in uniform as you reached for another pickle, not realizing that Harvey had the same idea. Your hands met in the rim of the jar and you flinched back instinctively. The small touch left you wanting more. You adjusted your legs slightly, tentatively letting one fall against his. Harvey made no effort to break contact.

“Tell me more about yourself. You said you explore the mines. Are there really monsters in there?”

“There are! I haven’t made it down very far but there’s all kinds of creatures down there.” You animatedly described the things you’d encountered on your adventures: colorful slimes, stealthy rock crabs, large buzzing insects, agile bats and more. Harvey looked on with a mixture of awe and fear.

His voice grew soft as he spoke “please be careful in the mines. I’d hate to see you get hurt.” Suddenly it was as if a switch had gone off in his mind and he got up from the couch. “Wait here one second!” He bolted across the studio and down the stairs. You heard rummaging from below before Harvey emerged again holding an armful of various medicines and first aid supplies. “Take these.” He thrusted the bundle of supplies into your arms.

“Harvey I can’t just take these from you. These are expensive” you insisted, trying to hand them back to him. A roll of gauze unraveled on the floor. Harvey plucked it from the ground and placed it on a table.

“Nonsense. Consider it part of your checkup.” He looked you in the eyes with a pleading expression. “Please take them. And promise me you’ll keep them with you in the mines”

“I promise.”

#my writing #harvey fluff #harvey x farmer #sdv fanfic #stardew fanfiction #stardew valley fanfic #harvey stardew valley #stardew valley fanfiction #harvey x reader

73 notes · View notes

blooming-violets · 2 months

Note

just finished five minutes. what other angsty goodness do you have to offer?!

Something Unforgivable

Peter cheats on his depressed, grieving girlfriend and feels like shit about it (as he should!!) and then part three randomly turns into a sex trafficking ring and murder fest story to spice things up.

Dancing On My Own (and the sequel)

People literally despise the fuck out of Peter in this fic. I seemed to have managed to make a typically beloved babyboy the most hated character. Then I tried to redeem him a bit but only made it worse and made people hate him more...but it's angsty af. And I personally think the ending fits their characters perfectly and makes total sense based on how I wrote them/their trauma/backstory buuuut it doesn't make people happy! ANGST

Nicest Thing

Honestly, this fic was written way before Dancing On My Own but they sort of have very similar vibes and I used a lot of inspo from this one to write DOMO. Like they could be the same Reader character person just in a slightly alternate universe. Peter's bff who's in love with him but he loves Gwen and then she dies and he's depressed and his friend tries to help him but it's hard to help grieving angry people.

Pinky Promise

there's children trying to jump off buildings and terrible fathers and attacks on nyc and two sad people just trying to find love in the midst of it all

Imminent

you see the future and that future shows Peter Parker's death. This is one of my favorite things I've done and I don't even think it's written that well but I think it's a unique concept and therefore it's my fav

Creature Like Me

This is my pride and joy. It's my baby. This is the most "I'm writing for me and only me" story I've ever done. It's just me pumping out chapters and like three people reading and cheering me on. And I have genuinely loved every single second. I. Fucking. Love. This. Story. So. Damn. Much.

Don't

This is short. Peter's an asshole during a fight. I like it because Reader stands up for herself and draws some boundaries. Don't let men treat you like shit. That's the message.

Are You Real?

Someone asked to me write fluff but I didn't see that so I defaulted to angst instead. A touch starved reader in a long distance relationship with Peter.

Touch Starved

Another touched starved but it's Peter who's in need of love.

From my Hurt/Comfort Bingo (that I should get back to completing some day): Caring for Reader's Wounds After Fight (home break in), Look At Me (stuck in an armed robbery), Car Accident (title speaks for itself, ended up as a 3 part mini series), Bring Your Kids to Work Day (reader is stuck in a fire with two kids and no way out)

Smut with Angst elements:

Cheating With Peter

Your marriage sucks, you're in love with Peter, all he seems to want is sex from you though and nothing more so you give it to him bc at least it means you'll be his in some sad pathetic way

In The Dark

Depressed reader needs Peter's help to find her way out of the darkness of her mind (through anal sex, apparently)

Ok that should be more than enough to keep you satisfied.

#asks #andrew garfield #andrew garfield fic #peter parker #peter parker fic #tasm #tasm x reader #peter parter x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm fic

71 notes · View notes

bonefall · 1 year

Text

Better Bones Profile: Houndleap

"The horrifying eldritch fallen angel likes ME best because I'm hot"

[ID: The Better Bones AU version of Houndleap from Warrior Cats. He is a black-and-white tom with ginger flecks in his black parts, and a fluffy white tail tuft. His ears are burned away, and he has orange, swirly keloid scars. He also has a heart-shaped paw pad.]

Here by popular request! Holy MOLY you all jumped on the offhanded manwhore comment lmao.

Houndleap's a great example of cats who are in the Dark Forest for breaking non-violent commandments. The only thing he's killing is the gene pool, with his 6 known mates and the 16 kittens between them all. No, he wasn't in love with them all either, he just liked to play the game.

He is as close to the ideal Clan cat as one can get, and he knows it, and flaunts it. Tri-colored with beautiful ginger flecks, he fell victim to a terrible moor fire and came out with severe burns. His surviving was already a great mark of strength, but then he became even luckier when his shiny scars raised, and slightly spread from the initial injury.

Clan cats didn't have a word for keloids, they only knew it was gorgeous. As if StarClan had given him a scar that dances and shimmers.

Houndleap "abused" this gift, seeing as many cats as possible and cheating on his 'official' mate back home. In the modern era, he might have just been a very popular Honor Sire, but this was before the Queen's Rights and the Aftergathering. He was eventually caught, and after his death, he was banished to the Dark Forest for violating the Law of Loyalty on more than 5 counts.

Yes. More than 5 counts. StarClan was able to see that he had even more than 5 halfclan mates (and they're not even counting the wife he cheated on) but only 5 got pregnant.

Alignment: Dark Forest, ex-WindClan

Time Period: Skyfall Era

Relations: Too fucking many

Houndleap's addition to the Dark Forest is Lover's Beck, a twisted, romantic version of a spot in the Gorge where he used to meet with his secret lovers. It's his worst memory because he planned poorly and two of them showed up at the same time and that's how he got caught.

More trivia below!

Canon said he's solid-colored and I said no. Pretty boy.

There are several minor features in his design that will be seen in modern family lines. I won't point them out but there's 3 total (so far.)

I decided to use him as an example of nearly ideal beauty standards in BB, since I famously overhauled them from canon. He is brightly colored with complicated patterns, slightly chunky, and has a HUGE scar on the face.

Personality is slut. He just wants to flirt, man. Theme song is Mambo #5 he's just like that.

He works with Tigerstar in OotS mostly because it's not like there's anything better to do. Plus some of the trainees are hot, "hellooooo Ratscar"

When Antpelt dies, Houndleap is one of the cats who needs the most convincing to come back into the alliance. It's one thing when it's funny haha Attack And Dethrone God or whatever, but PERMAdeath??

Thankfully, Hawkfrost is a fantastic diplomat.

Generally, Houndleap is motivated by whatever's fun. He was one of the first to fall in line under Ashfur and will do basically anything if he's bored.

"We're teaching people how to kill? sure lmao. Oh we're attacking the living? Ok cool. Guard the prisoners? Not like I had plans anyway. Anyway wanna get evil dinner later, handsome <3 ?"

Likes drama, tea, stories, games, anything that brings him a little excitement really.

He can usually be counted on to join whatever silly project the group's up to this time, like catching Shrewpaw's Pheasant.

I cannot stress enough how much of a normal Crummy Dude he is. He's just some standard jerkwad guy. The Dark Forest in Better Bones contains several people like him, who might be sleazeballs or jackasses, but we would generally agree don't deserve Hell.

When canon comes up with a Houndleap backstory, I'll consider what to do with it. But for now we only know that Hound came from WindClan, which I've included.

#Better Bones AU #Better Bones character profile #BB!Houndleap #BB!Dark Forest

194 notes · View notes

niki-phoria · 1 year

Text

pairing: leon x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff/angst word count: 2.5k

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts/ideation (from leon), mentions of ptsd symptoms, night terrors, spoilers for leon's backstory (??)

includes: re4 leon, blushy leon, reader is implied to be around leon's height, written with male reader in mind but i didn't mention pronouns, longest fic i've written !!

a/n: someone wrote a poly aeon fic and i haven't stoped thinking about it since dsndsls very strongly debating writing for ada bc i am in love with her pls send reqs (preferably male reader)

requests open !! read my rules first

leon sighs, squinting at the half-finished report in front of him. the words seem to blend together into a jumbled, incomprehensible mess on his computer screen. it feels like he’s been working for hours. the cup of coffee you made him sits forgotten on the table; it’s now lukewarm and he’s sure clumps of sugar have gathered at the bottom.

leon leans forwards, squeezing his eyes shut as if the action will be able to prevent his oncoming headache. his fingers massage his temples gently as he lets his mind drift: every memory - good and bad - somehow involves you.

wide blue eyes bore into your own as you found yourself face-to-face with a young boy. he looked to be around your age - actually slightly older. your father’s hand gingerly resting on his shoulder told you something terrible had happened to him: terrible enough for him to be escorted to your house in the middle of the night instead of being sent to child protective services or waiting around an empty police station for an uncle or grandmother to pick him up.

“y/n, this is leon,” your father said, gently pushing the boy towards you. “he’s going to be staying with us for a while.” leon remained silent as you waved at him. despite the unusual circumstances, you found yourself drawn to him.

“y/n, why don’t you show leon where the bathroom is?” your father urged. you looked up at him as he gave you a small nod of encouragement.

“okay,” you whispered. leon hesitantly took your hand when you held it out for him, following you up the stairs and into the bathroom to shower.

it had been years before someone told you what actually happened to leon that night. despite the multitudes of questions dancing on the edge of your tongue begging to be asked, you remained silent each time the topic came up. you had always done that - prioritized his comfort over your own.

leon sighs, letting his report stay forgotten for just a little longer. his mind continues to run - this time he thinks about your first kiss.

your shoulder gently knocked into his as you sat beside him on the shore. sand clung to your skin in patches and the sun beat down on you from above, but the quiet waves splashing was more than enough to make up for it.

leon hesitantly reached over to grab your hand. you intertwined your fingers together as you looked over at him with a soft smile. it shouldn’t have made his cheeks light up an embarrassing red the way it did. you chuckled when he looked away in an attempt to hide how flustered he had become. “are you blushing?”

“no.” the word sounded even less convincing out loud than it did in his head.

you simply brought your hand up to leon’s face, cupping his cheek and turning him to face you. his eyes fell from looking into yours to stare at your lips. his cheeks burned even brighter when you subconsciously licked them.

leon didn’t realize he was leaning in closer until he could nearly feel your breath against his skin. “leon,” you whispered. your hand cupping his cheek was now resting on his neck. “can i kiss you?”

the words made his breath hitch in his throat. despite all of the reasons to say no, none of them mattered when you were looking at him with that soft smile. “please,” he murmured.

leon’s confirmation was all you needed to pull him closer until your lips met in a sweet kiss. your lips were slightly chapped - a side effect of being at the beach all day and not drinking enough water - but it was perfect nonetheless.

your smiles grew when you pulled away. you didn’t waste any more time, quick to pull him back into yet another kiss.

a small, unconscious smile grows across leon’s face as he continues reminiscing. he can still remember how sweaty his hands felt when he finally gathered up the courage to ask you out on a date.

it had been a little over a month since you had kissed him for the first time, which meant that it had taken leon over a month to finally build up enough courage to ask you on a date.

you had been hunched over beside him on his bed, scribbling down notes in preparation for your upcoming history test. despite having his own assignments to complete, leon’s eyes remained fixated on you. the way your hair occasionally fell in your face, the way your eyes scanned through the pages for any important information, the way his t-shirt hung on your frame and made a light flush spread across his face any time he stared at you for too long.

his blush only intensified when you glanced over at him. a soft smile spread across your face as you cocked your head at him. “what? do i look stupid when i’m concentrating or something?”

“no, no,” leon chuckled, shaking his head. “it’s just… go out with me.” his eyes widened - maybe more than your own - when your head immediately whipped in his direction. you simply stared at each other in a silence that felt like it lasted for years before he swallowed his nervousness down and spoke again. “i like you. and i want to go out on a date with you.”

leon studied your face carefully for a few seconds before you smiled. it was soft, but nothing out of pity or sympathy; rather flattery and happiness. the next words you said somehow managed to change his life forever.

“i would love to go on a date with you.”

your first date had been at a cafe. it felt a little cliche but you didn’t seem to mind as you eagerly tugged him along behind you towards the small coffee shop. it was complete with over the table hand holding and a kiss on the cheek when he dropped you off at home that night.

the cafe smelt like freshly ground coffee and overly sweet creamer as soon as you entered. it was nearly overpowering to leon’s senses though your smile as you eagerly handed him a menu made it more than worth it.

his drink was overly sweet - made with some kind of caramel and topped with whipped cream. leon had left it to sit forgotten near the edge of the table as you complained about your physics professor. you waved your hands around to accentuate each of your points. according to you, the man was incompetent, exclusively read his notes off of years old presentation slides, and was terrible at teaching.

leon couldn’t help the way his lips quirked upwards into a small smile as he reached over to grab your hand. you paused when he intertwined your fingers together across the table. “i’m sorry, i’ve been talking this whole time and i’m sure you’re really bored and-”

“y/n,” leon chuckled. “it’s okay. i’d listen to you talk about anything.”

and he meant it. you hid your flustered smile behind the lid of your coffee cup as he lifted your intertwined hands up to press a small kiss against your knuckles.

you were there through it all - trained with him in preparation of joining the force, uprooted your entire life to move away with him, braved the horrors of raccoon city, been recruited into joining stratcom - and you had done it together.

it was only supposed to be a routine stop for gas. neither of you had expected to be caught up in a city filled with zombies and a government conspiracy.

your hand never left leon’s as you followed him through the precinct and down through the seemingly endless maze of the umbrella labs. the first time you had saved his life was in that police station.

he had been caught off guard. a woman - or the remains of one - had broken through the window and grabbed him from behind. his attempts to beat her off were futile. he flinched for a second when the loud crack of a gunshot rang out. her arms gripping his neck went limp for a second before he twisted around to hit her away from the window far enough to get away.

you stared at leon with wide eyes when he turned back to look at you. your hands trembled as you set the gun aside on a nearby table. he was quick to rush over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “are you okay?”

you clung to leon desperately as if he would slip away if you looked away for even a second. you had never shot a gun before - much less at a person. it was something he was all too aware of. your hours spent sitting on the couch together pouring over safety manuals, studying blueprints to memorize the names of various parts, learning how each mechanism combined with the others to form a functional gun, and watching leon practice at shooting ranges didn’t compare to actually shooting a gun; let alone at someone.

leon leaned down to press a kiss against your forehead. he held you close to him as you caught your breath. the air didn’t feel like it reached your lungs at all but you forced yourself to continue trying anyway. “hey,” he whispered, pulling away just enough to brush a hand against your face. he wiped the tears away from your cheeks with gentle swipes against your skin. “it’s okay,” he whispered. “it’s all gonna be okay. i’m here.”

leon could remember the wave of suicidal thoughts he had over the next few months all too well. but even more than the pain, he remembers the love. the overwhelming feeling of love he feels each time you wrap your arms around his waist or let your head fall against his shoulder or secretly squeeze his hand in yours underneath the table during meetings that only seem to drone on.

leon would crawl out of bed at random times of night. he would carefully pull away from you enough to not disturb you as he crept outside onto your balcony. he’d lean against the cool metal railing, letting the night air chill his bones. it felt good to feel anything; even if it was a frigid wind against his exposed skin.

you had a habit of waking up whenever he left. he knew - it was a habit you picked up as a kid when he failed to sneak out of your shared bedroom - but a small part of him was selfishly glad that you didn’t complain whenever he suddenly left and chose to comfort him instead.

the first time it happened you refused to leave him alone. instead of pestering him with the questions he was sure were aching to be asked, you simply stepped forwards and leaned your head against his back. your arms snaked around his waist as you pressed a kiss against his shoulder blade.

leon was the one to break the silence that night. he kept his voice low in an attempt to disguise the small shake in his words. “is everything okay?”

“i don’t know,” you whispered back. “is it?”

no. it wasn’t and wouldn’t be until months later, but he wasn’t ready to talk. so you simply held leon tighter until he was ready to come back inside. he pressed his head against your chest to listen to the constant rhythm of your heartbeat as you played with his hair until he fell asleep.

the months after racoon city were some of the hardest leon had to face, but you had been there through it all. the nightmares, the sleepless nights, the paranoia - none of it scared you away. after so much time of you supporting him it was only fair that he was there to support you as well. he could still remember the first time you woke up screaming from a night terror and the way you cried in his arms for hours until you felt safe enough to fall back asleep.

it wasn’t the screaming or thrashing that had woken him: you were crying. leon had always been a light sleeper - a side effect of his childhood, he supposed - but he had never been more grateful for something he used to consider an annoyance.

as soon as he heard you whimper, sleep was the last thing on his mind. tears rolled down your cheeks to stain the fabric of your pillowcase. “y/n,” he whispered, turning on his bedside lamp and placing a gentle hand against your shoulder. “love?” he was a little louder this time.

he gently shook your shoulders until you finally jolted awake with a gasp. your hands trembled as you stared at him with wide eyes. you panted in an attempt to catch your breath as his grip on your shoulders loosened. “leon?”

his heart broke at the way your voice cracked. tears of his own stung at his eyes, but he ignored them in favor of focusing on you. “it’s okay. i’m here.”

“leon,” you choked out through your tears. he reached over, tugging your body against his chest. his hand rubbed against your back in an attempt to calm you down.

you stayed in the same position until your breathing evened out and tears no longer rolled down your cheeks. leon didn’t dare to let go of you - even when you shifted to lean your head against his chest. even when your grip around his neck loosened. especially when you fell into a peaceful sleep, safety tucked within your lover's arms.

“shh,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against your forehead. you buried your face into the crook of his neck, clinging to his body tightly. “it’s alright. you’re safe. i’m here now.”

leon jumps a little when he registers the feeling of a quick kiss pressed against his cheek. his face flushes a light pink as you pull back just enough to sit beside him on the couch. you lean your head against his shoulder as his eyes flick back to his forgotten computer in front of him. it feels like no time has passed, but the shadows having switched positions further down your wall tells him that it’s been at least an hour.

your voice finally pulls him away from his thoughts. “what are you thinking about?”

leon turns to look at you. blue eyes meet your own for a second before they fall down to look at your lips. a small, unconscious smile spreads across his face as a comfortable silence falls over the room. “nothing,” he finally hums. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb against your skin. leon pulls you into a sweet kiss before you shift closer to him. your back rests comfortably against his chest as his arms find their familiar home around your waist. “just you.”

186 notes · View notes

sonicexelle-junkary · 1 year

Text

Foreboding [a HungryHero.EXE short fic]

I'm finally including the Zeti in something again, something small but still. Set about after the main backstory. Sonic decides to go back to lost hex, he needs to have a talk with a certain group of Zeti about something. Though he might not get the answers he wants.

CW: Mentions and descriptions of Cannibalism, blood, and disassociation

Lost hex was a sight to behold. A planet hidden just out of view from the residents of earth down below. Its surface was made of many large slabs of hexagons, dissipating into nothing around each landmass. It’s a mystery how this world works, even to its own denizens.

Among this world lived the Zeti, powerful beings who only want to cause harm to any being they come across. They had interacted with the world below and the people that resided in it only a few times before, a most notable interaction was when Dr. Eggman had found their home and enslaved them, to use them for his own army. What a fool he was, and what a bigger fool that hedgehog was to. To be so dumb and arrogant that he’d free them from the mad doctor, unknowing of the terrors that these creatures could create, especially with the doctors own machines.

A bright red biplane landed not far from the Zeti’s base. It used to be Eggman’s but they had repurposed it to be their own, among the badniks that he had carelessly left behind. From the plane hopped out a blue hedgehog who looked a little worse for wear. He walked from the plane and into the base with ease. Standing in the main room was Zavok, the leader and the most ruthless of the Deadly Six. He was alone, for now.

“I sense you have something to ask of me, hedgehog.” Zavok rumbled. Sonic didn’t respond. He turned to him. “Why else would you be here other than to get something from us? It has been over a year since we’ve last interacted, if I'm correct.”

Sonic nodded lightly, he still didn’t say anything. Zavok folded his hands behind his back and looked at the hedgehog before him. He fiddled with his hands and didn’t look him in the face, that undoubtful confidence and immense heroism was not there anymore.

The Zeti’s expression grew firm. “This is about the cave isn’t it?” Sonic froze in place, his hands closed tight into fists. The Zeti paused. “I am surprised it took you that long to find out. I figured it was obvious… That we like to feed on your kind.”

Sonic continued to not say anything, it made the red Zeti pause again. “…. I feel you found something else in there.” Sonic’s breathing hitched, he gritted his teeth. Before he realized it the Zeti had came up to him and bent down to his level. “Am I correct?”

Sonic slowly opened his mouth and struggled to speak. He felt weird, like he wasn’t in his body. He was nervous and numb, something he didn’t know how to deal with. He finally looked Zavok in the face, their eyes meeting for only a moment, but it was more than enough for them to fully understand what each other was thinking.

Zavok’s eyes grew firm. “I see that I am.” A smile was hidden in his voice.

“What did you do to me?” Sonic forced out.

Zavok simply responded. “Nothing.”

“What?”

“We didn’t do anything to you, Sonic. Any actions you have made are truly your own.”

“No. NO! That's impossible! I can’t- I can’t want-…” Sonic looked at his hands. His gloves were slightly pink from his failed attempt to wash the blood off in time. His teeth felt like they were digging through flesh, he imagined swallowing and tasting it in his mouth. As much as this made him feel terrible, it made him feel amazing, his mouth watering and dripping with saliva.

“I…..” He looked up at the Zeti who still stood a few feet from him. “Am I… like… y-….”

Zavok took a glance at Sonic. “Would that make you feel better or worse if you knew the answer.”

Sonic stared vacantly into nothing. His emotions were mixed and a pit had formed in his stomach. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, like he hasn’t eaten in days, he hasn’t. Any food he would have wanted was shoved in a large cooler in the garage of Tails’ workshop. He would struggle to open it almost as much as he would struggle to stay away from it. Knowing what was in there, it called to him like second nature.

“If you would like me to help you, I’ll have to refuse. Though I think you already knew that.” Zavok said.

“You don’t even care…” Sonic strained through a lump in his throat.

“Why should we? You know what we are. Beings who cause pain to others, using them for our own personal gain.” Zavok came closer to the small hedgehog. “And if you becoming a cannibal causes you this much distress, I’d be happy to relish in it.”

Sonic swung but missed the Zeti in front of him. He stared at him, scared and angry. Zavok chuckled. “If you are so instistant in going out for blood, then perhaps you are more like your enemies than you think, Sonic.”

Sonic turned and left. He jogged out of the Zeti base, his footsteps were heavy and loud. He didn’t want to be there any longer, didn’t want to hear another word coming out of Zavok’s mouth. He jumped into the Tornado and started the engine, he winced at the sudden loud noise that came from it.

As the propeller slowly started to pick up speed, he looked back at the base that towered above. A big dark building that had various appendages and devices stick out of its almost smooth exterior. It mocked him. Sonic scrunched his face up at the tower, the knot in his stomach had loosened a little, but his dizziness didn’t leave. He exhaled as he finally took off and away from lost hex.

#fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #text post #sonic.exe #HungryHero.exe #sonic #zavok #Cannibalism #blood #disassociation

279 notes · View notes

jeanmoreausautismstickers · 17 days

Note

tsc spoilers to share the brainrot but just a few small moments for you that are just sitting in my head that I NEED to talk to someone about

- jeans promise to Kevin

- Jean hurting Jeremy during practice “Away, Jean. You’re hurting me.”

- “Now I am not safe with you, Captain” because jer asked about Riko

- jer calling Kevin and asking if Riko broke his hand

- just fucking RIKO oh man we knew he was bad but lordy lordy lord he’s a monster

What do you think of it? How do you feel about Jean? Or Jeremy?

I need you to know that all of things you've noted made me cry. okay anyway

tsc spoilers under the cut xx

Jean's promise to Kevin? I fucking threw up brother. like it just. that whole scene and all the complicated feelings has about Kevin (and Neil) but he's still not breaking Kevin's promise. he still makes promises with Neil. like just that small, almost childish hope in him. he doesn't hate Kevin nearly as much as he wants to say he does now that he's gone and I'm so obsessed with it

oh the "Away, Jean" scenes broke my heart because I have a feeling Nora might use Jeremy saying Jean hurt him in the future. be it Jeremy finally Losing It about something and snapping (unlikely) or Jean using it as an excuse as to why he shouldn't look at Jeremy (very likely). they both break my whole heart with this scene, but I loved watching (well reading) Jean grow as a player and as a person, and start to understand that he can change his little habits. it'll just take time and watching his coaches and captain give him the grace he needs for that learning curve has me nawing on the bars of my enclosure

on top of that, Jean telling Jeremy he didn't feel safe? gagged. the fact that Jeremy, despite KNOWING it was a bad choice, stepped away and respected Jean's (slightly self-destructive) boundaries? screaming and yelling and crying my eyes out. that scene hurt me in so many ways, but the biggest one is the fact that Jean knew Jeremy would respect him if he said it. I mean it was like a punch in the throat, but it created a lot of trust between them based on Jean's boundaries and I cannot be normal about it

I'm not gonna lie, I giggled a bit at Jeremy's absolute rudeness on that phone call. like it was definitely heartbreaking and I want to give Kevin a hug. and Jean. and Neil. but the gall to call someone and immediately ask for their traumatic backstory is crazy. anyway, that scene was sad but other than giggling a bit at Jeremy's word choices, it didn't evoke a ton of emotion in me? i already knew about Kevin's had from TFC-TKM so it didn't surprise me, but I did feel terrible for Jeremy and how he found out. he will be making GOOD use of his therapist in the future I just know it

I HATE RIKO. OH MY GOD. the whole book everytime I say his, or Grayson, or Zane's name I had to say a quick prayer for the murderous thoughts running through my head. I hate him I need to hurt him even though he's already dead

i loved this book so much. once the mental illness about it dies down and I can think of it without my heart crumbling I'm going to reread it. I loved all the characters (minus all of the Ravens of course) and I cannot wait for tsc2 to come out. I'm sooo excited and I hope we get a bit more on Jeremy's family and how he thinks he ruined it. it was such a beautiful book and it makes me so sick to my stomach (in a good way) and I love it like my firstborn

I loved loved loved Jean and Jeremy, both separately and together. the parallels of Jean's family giving him up as a child but Jeremy's family not letting him leave even though he's an adult? Nora is fucking insane and i love her for it. her brain is just so good. I hope they get more of Jean accepting he has a family with Cat and Laila and Jeremy. I hope he starts referring to the house they share as HIS house, instead of calling it Laila's. I know he already called it home but I need him to take personal possession of things other than his notebooks. he and Jeremy deserve the whole world and I trust Nora whole heartedly to give them that after she torments us first ♡♡♡

#tsc spoilers #jean moreau #riko moriyama #jeremy knox #grayson johnson #zane reacher #coach rhemman #neil josten #kevin day #the sunshine court #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #all for the game #aftg #tsc #nora sakavic

30 notes · View notes

indiemedley · 7 months

Text

Ice-E's P'E'ZZA Secret Boss: Greas-E

Time for a new Deltarune secret boss, this time for Ice-E's! The lovely art was done by the splendorous @zootyplex (commission her, her art rocks) and the fabulous @creepa-b0t-inc for the sprite renditions!

Now then, for the boss himself. Greas-E hails from the Corporate World of Ice-E's, run by the head C'E'O. In days long past, Greas-E served as the C'E'O's top enforcer, the one he contacted to get shit done, through violent means if necessary. Greas-E was fiercely loyal to his boss, being a part of the Family Menu in the upper echelon. He new the job came with a lot of risks, a lot of downsides, but he didn't care. He served his duty well.

One day, however, a haphazard Darkner spotted him in the middle of his less than moral activities, word of which did take very little time to spread throughout the Dark World. The C'E'O was certainly not happy to hear this, as he sought to maintain his profits with a proper family friendly image. As much as it killed him, he had to banish Greas-E, remove him from the menu in order to save face. As such, he was banished to the Icy Shelf, and left to be forgotten.

It was here that he came to meet a special someone among the tundra, one who showed him capabilities he never knew he even had. Powers that linked him to a grandiose machinated giant that lay dormant in the ice. He was ready to Supersize, all he needed was the right group of schmucks to help him finish the last minute prep time "That Weird Guy" got him on track for.

As for his Light World origins, his story is slightly more complicated than the average Light World Darkner backstory.

Greas-E was originally the benign pompadour type mascot for an item on the Ice-E's menu, part of the corporate attempt to make more of a cast for Ice-E, so they could market more toys and boost their funds. He was meant to advertise and sell the Super Mega Pizza Burger Triple Patty Greasemaster Deluxe, which was even more unhealthy than it sounds.

Of course, this terrible menu item led to some serious health concerns for the public, inevitably leading to its removal from the menu. However, the franchise had jumped the gun by a significant margin and had already begun construction on a line of animatronic entertainers for the Hometown location. They were intended to be half machine and half organic material from whatever product they were supposed to represent, that way, they could Serv-o Up Smiles!

This was an all around terrible idea.

Greas-E's animatronic was the first one to be put into production, and subsequently the first to be canned. However, they couldn't get rid of it, so, they just shoved it in the back of the freezer at the restaurant alongside the last unsold Super Mega Pizza Burger Triple Patty Greasemaster Deluxe patties.

It was here he was to stay. Here he was to rot. Mold and mildew slowly overtaking the meat on his body, but his hate still remains. His desire to get back on the menu and prove to his boss he can still be useful burns just as bright as it did before. And he'll serve up a 2-for-1 deal on pain along the way.

"What? What? Youse single serving punks tink you got ANYTHING on da Greasemaster? Tink again, Cornball!"

"We all pass our best-by dates, cornball, even the freshest meats expire!"

As for his general deal, Greas-E is a dirtbag sleazeball mafioso. He's a dick to most people, except his boss who he holds in the utmost regard. He speaks with an Italian American accent, much like a stereotypical mobster. He also consistently refers to himself in the third person as Greas-E or the Greasemaster. During his speech, he also sprinkles in a variety of food service references into his speech pattern. After meeting Kris, he tends to refer to them as Cornball or Order Reference Number M040N, or moron.

#deltarune #oc #deltarune secret boss #deltarune oc #writing #ice-e's secret boss

62 notes · View notes

caaaatoad · 2 years

Note

hello there, is your day well? I come bearing a request!

A wonderful piece to my collection would be a drabble that shows Kaeya's more adorable side,,,

I don't want to put in too many details, or leave it too vague

so I'll reiterate it for clarity: Kaeya showing a more vulnerable side of himself (ex: something embarrassing/terrible happened )

I thank you for your time to read through my request,,, ^^

A/N: I love kaeya requests so much thank you for your request it really brightened my day today! <3 I hope you have an amazing day today to Anon! So sorry that it’s so late <33

KAEYA REVEALS HIS SECRETS TO YOU (Kaeya x gn!Reader)

Pairing: Kaeya x gn!Reader

Genre/format: Angst to fluff, reverse comfort (drabble)

Warnings: lots of crying, sickness, throwing up, mentions of unhealthy coping (alcohol + overworking), guilt, fear + fear of storms (thunder + lightning) and anxiety, all spoilers for Kaeya’s backstory and events, petnames: ‘darling’ and ‘my love,’ burns + injuries

Summary: Kaeya believes he is unworthy of love, especially yours.

Kaeya is a man of many layers.

If you were to describe his façade, it would be like velvet over ice. Smooth voiced and sultry tongued, he delivered his blows cold and sharp.

That is not how you would describe him, Kaeya. Kaeya, was your sweet, loving boyfriend. Loyal, and a good man. You told him those words with ease because they were the truth - and your lover looked at you as if all you said were lies.

more under the cut!

Lies so cruel, they shattered his icy walls before the velvet could unravel. A mess. Kaeya had lost all his grace, crying as if he was a sinner deemed none of it. His walls melted before you, and instead of it a weight lifted off his chest like snow clearing-way for Spring - he trembled as if he was stranded in Dragonspine. Talked as if all the snow there weighed on his lungs until the man could no longer breathe.

Your man, your lover. Kaeya. Fully clothed but stripped naked, in the kind of way that left your soul bare. You understood, Kaeya, but not enough to know why he did not believe your assurances. It was not the first night he was up late, overthinking.

It was the first he failed to make you believe he believed you.

It was the first you woke up to find Kaeya, curled up on the bathroom floor - where the thunder rolling through the crowds and the flash of lightning had failed. He flinched violently each time, nearly a convulse. Your mouth went dry, heart dropping to the pit of your stomach - rattling your body harder than any storm did the windows.

Kaeya’s breathing eventually slowed unlike the rain hammering against the rooftops, only when pelting water was the only noise coming from the sky. You hoped it was not just the muffle of his head against the toilet seat, his knees trembling against the cold, bathroom tiles. Your held his hair back, mated with the same sweat tricking down his back. The bathroom smelled of sickness.

Kaeya tried to play it off as just that. Sickness. He even laughed—if you could call it that. Croaks from a soar throat, he must had. You had no idea how he even managed the strength to talk after all of it, his throat sounded scraped raw.

You talked. Your throat did not feel much different. “Oh, Kae…” He was trembling, hard now, and kept his face so low you thought he needed to be sick again. “C’mon, love, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He had never flinched before at the endearment. It very well could be you had never used it before; it was the truth. You had paused in your attempt to move the hairs from his face, asking him if you could. He sucked a deep breath in, wavering in his throat as thunder moaned in the clouds - and swallowed, hard. Slowly, he lifted his head slightly from the toilet he was gripping onto like a lifeline.

Not his eyes. No, never his beautiful, beautiful eyes. Or should you say eye… as you removed all that was sticking to his sweaty face but his eyepatch, his soft cotton fit for sleep replaced with his usual, formal leather. Sleep not slept. He was in full favonious uniform, recognizable despite disheveled layers of belts, thick silks and even tighter leather sticking to his body who trembled as if the man was not sweating buckets.

You sighed softly, rubbing your thumb over the dark circle underneath his eye. You shifted your palm to cup his damp cheek, and he leaned into your touch. Kaeya shut his eyes, tears leaking out of the corners, and with trembling lips spewed shaky apologies.

You cooed softly, wiping his mouth with a clean towel when he finally stopped to breathe. Kaeya was reminded to breathe slow and deep by you, breathing with him, before sitting on the toilet seat as you prepped a toothbrush.

You gently tilted his chin up, his beautiful eye refused to meet yours. It was glossy under the warm, bathroom lights - and so were his tear-stained cheeks, and the beads of sweat on his brow and bottom lip.

“I-I’m sorry,” he managed. His voice was barely heard over the pelting rain, and he was still shivering as if he was caught in it.

“For not feeling well?” You asked him, your heart hurting as more tears welled up in his eye. He moaned through his teeth as thunder rolled. You had never seen the man cry before, and never expected to ever see him shed so many his eyepatch went damp. “Kaeya, you’re human. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise.”

“I—I’m disgusting,” he whispered, voice cracking to a pitch when a flash of lighting, illuminating the pure, fear in his one, sole eye. As if his body was the windows rattled by the storm, his head in your shoulder and heart underneath your hand beat harder than the thunder in his chest.

You dropped the toothbrush, your own hands were trembling now at how badly he was shaking. He only held on to you tighter, crying hard into the crook of your neck. You had seen him anxious before, and in those moments - he never wanted to be touched.

You rubbed your hands up and down his back, and hummed softly. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you shut them as you buried your nose into his hair. You continued the soothing tune until his breaths slew against your neck, calm enough to cup his cheeks and finally, meeting his gorgeous eye.

“I love you, Kae,” you said, softly. “I know I’ve never said it before, but… I do. I really do.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, out of his face, and rubbed your thumb over his damp cheek.

Kaeya swallowed hard. The walls he built were torn down in the most gentlest of ways, your touch a torch melting the ice away. Warmth he did not deserve. Guilt had tightened the knots in his stomach until all he could do was drown himself in paperwork, pried his eyes open, devoured his appetite, and forced him to spew on an empty stomach he planned to fill with wine as soon as his legs would lift him off the floor.

Was planning. He did not plan for you to find him, nor did he ever plan to fall for you harder than the buckle of his knees in his attempts to stand. Guilt, and so much of it. A storm colder than his vision and the night he was given it. Colder than the look in his brother’s eyes as he drew his sword—pure fire, and somehow - it left him frozen.

Not in the way he could not move, Kaeya drew his sword in return—walls around his heart never letting anyone in again. The sword he held froze the pouring rain once it hit the steel, hardening the water hammering against the cobblestone. All the moisture in the air froze to face Diluc’s searing flames, a clash of Pyro and the Cyro of Kaeya’s earned, no—cursed Vision at his hip.

A reminder to string his words in velvety tones. Pretty lies, and ugly truths. Your loving gaze stripped his lies naked; how he truly was a spy from a hated nation, a Sinner, a liar, a traitor. How could you love a man like him? He was unworthy of love. Especially yours.

“You are so worthy of love, Kaeya,” you whispered to him. Perhaps you could not hear him over the storm. Kaeya held onto you tighter with another boom of thunder. Did he really say that last part?

“Your past does not define you,” you whispered softly. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. “You have never done anything to hurt Mondstadt.”

You looked him in the eyes. “I love you so much, Kaeya.”

And Kaeya believed it.

Trembling fingers reached for the string of his eyepatch, the wet leather sliding off his face as smoothly as the tears slipping down his jaw.

Kaeya’s heart hammered harder than the rain outside, harder than the clash of the brothers’ swords, and faster than the flash of lightning illuminating the betrayal in Diluc’s eyes Kaeya caused. The man felt sick all over again, and it took everything to keep returning your gaze.

A few moments passed, as you slowly raised your hand - then retrieved it.

“May I?” You asked him.

Kaeya nodded, slowly. You smoothed a finger over his scar as he told how he got his burn. The skin was rough, he knew, and ugly - a dark, prune colour sitting like a lump on his brown skin. Swallowing the lump on his throat, his breath hitched when you pressed your lips against the skin there, a kiss softer than the flutter of crystalflies.

“Beautiful,” you whispered, rubbing your thumb underneath his exposed eye.

You helped him brush his teeth, out of his uniform, and into comfy, cotton clothes loosely fitted and suited for sleep. The storm had lulled to soft, rainfall - as you pulled the covers over your bodies intertwined by the legs - all after you made sure he slowly sipped on a glass of water.

His head rested on your chest, close to your heart. Your heartbeat his favourite sound, embraced in your familiar scent and fingers gently massaging his scalp and rubbing soothing circles into his back - sleep, came easy.

“I love you,” he said, looking into your eyes before his head fell against your chest once again.

The next morning, Kaeya awoke to your humming self cooking breakfast - delectable aromas enough to make his stomach grumble. He smiled softly.

“Kaeya,” you smiled. You grasped his hands, and squeezed them gently. “How are you feel—“

Your words were lost against his lips, as he gently brought you closer and moved in sync with yours. Never wanting to part, except for the momentary part of lips - exchanging warmth breaths as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” he said. He knew you loved his voice in the morning, how it slipped into a low octave. “My love.”

He smirked when you teasingly pushed him away, flustered. “Don’t go kissing me with your morning breath, Kae.”

“Hm~? I’m pretty sure you were quite fond of my lips anyways, darling.” He replied smoothly. Naturally. “And—“

You kissed him, further proving his point. You broke the kiss smiling, which told him you didn’t care.

“Thank you,” he said, as you lead him to the table to eat.

“I love you.”

#kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x you #kaeya angst #kaeya x you #kaeya fluff

412 notes · View notes

annymation · 2 months

Note

So how King Florian got himself killed like drinking a poison?

Alright, this is the part 4 of this Prequel I wrote with Amaya and Magnus backstory!

I'm in a writing Florian mood, this OC that has been just in my head for so long is finally getting loose!

If you wanna take a look on how he looks, click HERE to see @uva124 amazing design for him and young Magnus and Amaya!

So here’s how his death went:

King Florian is sleeping on his large comfortable bed, he groans as he wakes up, feeling a terrible headache that has been making him unable to do anything for days now.

“Ughhh my head…”

"Good morning, your majesty" Says a sweet voice from the side of the bed

"AAAH!" The young king get startled by the voice, he turns to the side of the bed and sees "Miss Amaya! You scared the life out of me!" He says shaken up by the sudden wake up call. He calls her miss even though she's just 5 years older than him, just to show respect.

"Oh dear, I’m so sorry, my king" The woman apologizes bowing her head down slightly.

Florian holds his head, still feeling pain, but then he realizes something... "Wait, what are you doing here? Weeks ago you said you'd be away in vacation for a while... I assumed you went to travel with my brother- ugh" He groans because of the headache.

"Heavens no! I wouldn't go traveling in the ocean, not after my past experiences" She chuckles quietly "I just needed a break from the confining walls of the palace, you know? For the past few days I was lodged with a lovely family of farmers"

Said farmers provide the food for the palace. Amaya poisoned their vegetables with a potion that would only give terrible headaches to someone that magic in them, a sorcerer such as Florian. It never affected anyone from the castle staff or the food testers, so no one suspected a thing.

"I see... So what brings you back?" He smiles at her kindly despite being in pain.

"Isn’t it obvious? I’ve came to restore you back to health. You poor thing, I should’ve never left, you’re clearly in desperate need of my talents." Amaya has a gentle smile and eyes full of fake pity. She picks up a tea cup from the king's night stand "Here you go, this will make all the pain go away" her voice is soft as she hand him the tea cup

The king holds the tea and sees his own reflection on it, he looks skeptical "Thank you, but I doubt it, I've been trying every healing spell in the library to get rid of these migraines, but nothing works… It feels more like a curse..."

"A curse? That can’t be, who would ever curse you? You’re so beloved by all of your people" She acts shocked, like she just heard the saddest thing in the world.

"I don't know, but THIS isn’t natural... And speaking of my people, I haven’t granted any wishes for days…" Florian places the tea on his night stand and starts to try getting out of bed, he’s distressed "I shouldn’t keep them waiting- I should at least check a few wishes today, then- I- I-" He feels his legs go limp and just falls back on the bed "Ugghhhhh" He groans in frustration with how weak he feels.

"Shhh come now my king, you must rest" Amaya sounds motherly, she caresses the king’s long hair to comfort him "There’s nothing to worry about, your people love you, they won't mind if they don't get a few wishes for just a little while" those words do indeed help Florian feel better "... What a shame that Magnus went to travel, hm? If he was here perhaps he could help you with the wishes" she says longingly

"Heh nah, he couldn’t do that since he got no magi-" Florian realizes he just blurted out his brother's secret that they both agreed to keep away from the public, and worst, he said it to the maiden his brother is in love with, he lifts his head from the pillow nervously trying to remedy his mistake "UUUH I mean- Umm- He doesn't USE his magic a much as me bu-but-" Florian tries to come up with something, but he's a terrible liar

"Hush now your highness, it's alright, I already know" Amaya said calmly

That caught him out of guard… Sure Amaya has been living in the palace for a year now, but Magnus was always so serious about hiding from others that he has no magic… He really must love her a lot.

“Oh- hehe of course… I should’ve guessed, you two are so close… It makes me glad that he found love, he really changed thanks to you, you know?” Florian looks at her with a thankful smile as he sits on the bed

“He did?” She asks innocently tilting her head “How so?”

“Growing up, he always been closed off and cold… But since you arrived, he has been so much happier and alive, he even started treating ME better, which is crazy cause for years he avoided even looking at me! -Ough” Florian gets excited talking about how his brother has improved, but his migraines start flaring up again, he lowers his head and holds it with both hands.

“Oh your majesty, please lay down.” Florian did as she said, laying back on the bed “There, now drink up, and I promise you’ll feel better before you know it.” She takes the tea cup and gives it to him with a caring smile “My potions always help you feel better, don't they?… And I made it apple flavored, I know it’s your favorite”

It was true, Amaya has been their royal potion maker for about a year, and her potions always did help Florian feel better whenever he had a cold or felt tired. He knew he could trust her.

“… Thank you, Amaya” Florian drinks the tea… it does taste like apple, but it’s really bitter, he makes a face of disgust but tries to hide it to be polite.

“Not to your liking? That’s quite alright, one sip is more than enough for the effects to kick in.” Amaya says as her gentle smile changes into a wicked smirk.

Florian is looking at the tea so he doesn’t see her change in expression "Oh no no! It tastes great hah ha" he lies, then he asks what he should’ve probably asked before even drinking it “And umm what are the effec-“

… Florian feels strange…

He feels sleepiness overtake him... But not like a nice sensation of drifting off to sleep, it's more like his eyelids are being forcefully shut down, he tries his best to keep them open, and he sees Amaya's wicked grin.

"It's nothing much really, you'll just fell a bit sleepy..." Amaya says still with her sweet voice. She takes the tea cup from his shaky hands.

He tries to speak but it's getting hard to breathe, it's like his heart is slowing down even though he's terrified as realization dawns on him.

"Then, your breath will still." Her smile shows how she's just having way too much fun seeing the gleam in his innocent big eyes being shattered with betrayal.

He feels cold, really cold, and it doesn't come from outside, the freezing sensation comes from within him and it's spreading through his whole body. He can't move, but he still manages to look at Amaya angrily with his last strengths.

"And your blood will congeal." She finishes listing the effects of the curse, amused with the young king's angry expression.

Florian tries to resist the curse, he tries to use his magic but he can't focus, everything is becoming blurry but he still hears Amaya's voice as a distant echo

"Oh don't fight it your majesty, just relax, you won't really die after all, you'll simply fall into a sleep LIKE death." She stands up from the chair and covers him with his blanket to look like the king never woke up at all "... Though you will be buried alive, THEN you'll die hahahaah aaah" She laughs devilishly

Florian is losing the battle as his eyes begin to seal shut, but he can still hear Amaya like an echo in his head.

She leans down to whisper in his ear "But I'll tell you a little secret, there is an antidote, wanna know what it is?... True love's kiss." She holds in more laughter like that's the punchline of the joke, as she starts to walk out of the room with the tea cup "Awwn... If only there was someone out there who loved you..."

Those were the last words Florian heard before his mind drifted off into a dreamless slumber, one that he never woke up from.

Magnus returned from his travel not long after, "devastated" by the news. He was the one who buried his "dear little brother".

#wish rewrite #wish reimagined #kingdom of wishes #ask

21 notes · View notes