#I WOULD TAKE THEIR IMMORTALITY KNOWING I WOULD EVENTUALLY LOSE MY MIND | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

otakuworks · 1 year

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❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. reborn au

feat. Zhongli x Reincarnated!GN!Reader | PART II | wc. 5.4K

Based on 'See You In My 19th Life' webtoon | overview. This Webtoon follows the story of a woman who somehow can remember all her past lives.

sum. You were running too fast in life, so fast that no one could catch up, not even Morax who left you to fend off with your curse. Just when you thought you'll slip and fall, a certain consultant came behind and caught you.

cw. mentions of extreme emotion breakdown. cttro 双niarss on Twitter for the art below.

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PART I < PART II

THEME SONG; Slump by Stray Kids (English Version)

There are five stages of grief; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. All in order.

In your case, it was the other way around. You have long accepted Morax will lay on his deathbed one day, every living thing will eventually cease to exist, mortal and immortal alike

You, out of all people know the in-depth concept of death.

And yet, no amount of tutelage or experience can prepare you for the real thing.

Now you understood what Morax felt when you died.

Your chest feels raw like there's a sudden gash wound that has manifested in your heart. It was painful, too painful that you wouldn't wish it upon anyone, even on your worst enemy.

Scratch that. It's not just pain. It feels something more destructive, demanding and insatiable, crueler than sorrow. Not even death can appease this feeling.

It was agony.

Impale your abdomen with a spear hundred times. Sever your limbs every lifetime. Suffer for all eternity hiding behind Morax and watch him love with someone else over and over again— you'd take them all and say thank you.

You'd be grateful and endure each of them just to trade whatever horrible feeling that's tearing you apart.

Confusion, terror and fright blanketed your mind as you slumped on the floorboards, desperately gasping for breath.

The acrid smell of snarling lightning crackles in the stale midnight air, sharp enough to singe every nerve of your body, rendering you cowering in overwhelming emotions— agony, pain and grief.

Inazuma was bustling with the news of the Geo Archon passing away recently. You could only imagine how Liyue is digesting the cruel twists of events.

The news spreads fast enough for foreign people to sympathize to Liyue citizens, some even offered prayers to the Raiden Shogun, some pay their respects by wishing the late Archon to rest in peace, some never bothered to care.

But none of them mourned in the confinements of their four walls as you did, the Celestia above knows the quiet sobs that wrecked the very core of your existence. The horrors of every shitty lives you went through cannot be compared to this day.

Rex Lapis, who is— was widely known for many names, mostly as the Geo Archon, God of War, God of Contracts, Former Prime Adepti, the Stonebreaker, God of History is now reduced by dust with his people carrying the legacy he has passed on.

To you, all this time, he's still... Morax the petulant child who leans on you for comfort, who politely demands you to sing a lullaby as kids. You're already sold to the idea no one would ever believe you if you told them what embodiment of mischief he was in the ancient times, the exact opposite of the Archon they knew about.

Nostalgia hits you in particular days you can't find traces of the young Morax, but Pride would caress your heart every achievement he succeeds as you watch the people love him.

Similar to a lone planet, you desperately search for a star to orbit around, to give you a source of energy and strength. Once you find one, it'll be difficult to rearrange your position after you have settled down, you're attached until the star loses its amber glow.

And now the star is gone. Gone with the cosmos after a supernova.

Destroying the neighboring planets, including you.

You were the closest in its orbit, you're the one who had to endure the scorching flames morphing you into ashes until you're reduced into cosmos particles for no one to remember.

Morax left you to fend off with your curse and face adversities alone.

Mortals would succumb to these adversities and would choose to sever their connection to the living to escape from everything. You've seen a handful of them and can't ever get enough of it.

If there's anything you long to have other than having Morax beside you is a swift escape.

Every mortal is capable of such thing, you are too, but it's pointless if the pain will cling to you in your next life. It's fruitless to cry when you know every affliction won't be forgotten even if you tried.

Just why?! Why do I have this perpetual curse of reincarnation? I abhor you, Celestia! Not only you cursed me, you even took away Morax from this land!

You shake your head as the anger surge took over your sanity. You thought you can just go live your merry life, unbeknownst how dependent you were to Morax.

Your will to live is solely operated by the fact you have someone you want to protect. But now he's gone? What's the back up plan? Clearly you can't just follow him in his death knowing you can die, but your memories will remain with you.

Was it out of selfishness to protect him to have someone accompany your lonely soul? Because he's the only one who actually remembers the real you?

Rain began to pour from the desolute atmosphere as you heard disembodied voices theorizing Morax's death. The muffled thundering of the storm only growing louder, reminding you of today's unsavory news. How convenient, the sky is sympathizing.

No, make it stop! I don't want fo hear any of it! Morax is dead, that's how nature works. I'm griefing because it hurts, not because I have nothing to live for.

You lived in that illusion for minutes until. . .

*drip* *drip*

. . . the dam broke.

Hot tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut in the hope the pain would stop, just numbing it would be fine too. Your choppy breathing and watery eyes remained for quite some time, and sat there unmoving.

There's no see you later's anymore, for Morax has left you. Today has marked your first Goodbye to him.

For an indiscernible amount of time, there was only a black void and it could have been as if you didn’t exist and you had never existed.

And then you felt each of your cells that had been ripped apart within seconds be sewed back together just as quickly, and your eyes met nothing but a blinding white light.

Have I reborn again? You're not aware which is which anymore. You lift your numb hand and reality crashed over your head, you haven't died out of grief, yet.

Your mind is in havoc, you don't know what you want, not that you have any choice.

Dying won't help you escape, forgetting is not an option, loving. . . can't heal an open wound.

No words can equate the absolute devastation you feel.

❖ ── ✦ ── 『 6000 YRS AGO 』 ── ✦ ── ❖

This is stupid. Utterly ridiculous!

What kind of mortal would go in the mines in the middle of the night where monsters lurk in the shadows to hunt for preys? Yeah, that's a question he would like for you to answer!

He flies twice the speed he usually exerts, his mind running rampant of all worst possible scenarios.

He doesn't know what compelled you to do such ridiculous act, but all he knows is he has get to you before any monsters do.

Landing unceremoniously, he gulps at the sight before him. He was never a fan of darkness, it never fails to instill fear in him, the fear of the unknown.

The only time he feels comfortable in the night is whenever you're around him. You don't fear the night, and it somehow influenced him in a way that there's nothing that should be afraid of as long as you're with him— as his human shield.

Young Morax finds himself slowly withdrawing, the fear overpowering his will to come and save you.

"Morax? What are you doing out here?" Saved by the gracious voice of yours, young Morax nearly broke his neck with how fast he looked at your direction.

Your face is contorted out of concern for him, he's sweating profusely and his breathing is ragged.

Just seeing you all in one piece with no signs of injuries made hin slumped on the ground, sighing in relief.

You were at his side seconds later, subconsciously caressing his cheeks. Celestia above! He's shaking like a leaf!

"It's alright, let's get you out of here." Your soothing voice appeased his troubled mind as you helped him get back on his feet. He clutches the fabric of your shirt and wordlessly launches himself on you, arms and tiny tail entrapping you in an embrace.

You waste no second reciprocating the gesture, you've known him for months to be comfortable with physical sentiments. Though you can't say the same to him as he would always flinch away when you initiate it, but has no problem when he does it.

And it seems like he needs your comfort to even give a damn.

"Whatever it is, it can't hurt you now okay?"

From that angle, he peered from below you as if confirming the validity of your words, amber eyes looking like someone has kicked an innocent puppy, it's no wonder you have a soft spot for him.

Both of you strayed away from the caves leading to mines, "I-I thought you l-left me." He meekly mumbled, almost incoherent.

That baffles you as he continues, "I overheard f-from your village that m-monsters are increasing in the area and you're probably..."

"Shh... I'm here now, aren't I? I'm sorry you have to hear that, I can assure you I haven't encountered any marauding monsters during my little excursion." You sighed, guilt pooling your conscience.

He sniffled, "So, you're not going to leave me?"

"Can I even go anywhere when you have a sharp sense of smell?"

"I'm a dragon, not a wolf." He whined, though you could still see the glint of dubious in his eyes, "Can I trust your word?"

Words never served him better than actions, you ought to show him you honor your word by affirming it through gestures.

Smiling, you offered your hand to him.

"How about you hold my hand on our way home? Will that help?" He stares at you and literally contemplated before he relented.

It's warm, much similar to your hug, but like a form of hug that has been reduced to a smaller fraction. It's still a paragon of comfort.

Surely enough, it did help his mind to be at ease. If you ever feel like he's cutting off your circulation, he is cutting your circulation by intertwining your fingers as if trying to tangle it so it won't loose.

"I'm sorry, you must think I'm stupid for cowering away just because of some stupid dark cave." He lowered his head in shame.

He's a Dragon who has greater strength than most beings, and yet he lets his fear consume him as if they can hurt him like how—

"Nonsense! Don't ever think like that or I will personally be the reason why you should fear humans." As stern as you sound, your eyes tell a different story.

Young Morax deduced this as concern, which resulted a flustered and heartwarming reaction from the boy. You were worried for him.

It shouldn't be something he's supposed to feel happy about, but your fretful intentions warranted warmth and security in his mind.

"I didn't know how oddly. . . pleasant it is to hold hands." He mused, and you responded with an amused giggle, "Here I thought only couples do this stuff, but it's really reassuring."

"It does, doesn't it? Sometimes the solution to your conflicts is in a form of validation."

Too wise for a kid, he inwardly complained, ". . .Meaning?"

You hold his other hand and stood to face him with a sequined smile, "No matter how minuscule or massive your fears are, you'll still find comfort when someone validates your feelings; to let you know that they care. It may not be the solution in some cases, but it's better than being alone in times of your vulnerability."

You leaned slightly closer, "Can I ask you a favor?" Your gaze pierced right through his soul and he can only nod absently which resulted for you to grin.

"If you see someone, friend and stranger even enemies, looking so vulnerable that they actually might cry. . ." You lifted your intertwined hands with his, ". . .Make them feel significant."

A cold midnight wind whisked past the both of you, your eyes shone brighter than jewels and stars alike as you spoke those words that made a huge impact in his life.

". . .Even if my enemies are about to cry because I'm about to end their miserable lives?"

What a way to ruin the moment.

"You know what I mean, Mora." You deadpan, preparing to let go of his hand, but his grip is much stronger and it only tightens once he feels you're trying to detach.

"I'm afraid you have to elaborate further, Y/N. And please, I only have two syllables in my name. What's so hard in including the X?" In contrast to his words, he quite enjoys hearing his nickname.

"The X is not even a syllable, Mora."

That time, young Morax found peace.

He's always on the hunt for something new, something glimmering, something incredible, something undiscovered and something bedazzling. That's how his childlike brain thinks and he seizes anything outwardly beautiful.

But he never knew how amazing it was to see something— or rather, to see someone's beauty on the inside.

Perhaps that's what draws him to you, because of your voice, patience and understanding. He would never admit it though

To him, you're beautiful inside and out, almost perfect, even your flaws are easy to love.

He can't deny he wasted a few immortal years just mourning your death, you'd probably scold him.

Within those years, he's only reliving the memories and wise words you have with him. He wanted to come out as a better person after your death, take it as an honour of your passing.

You made him for what he is.

If he hadn't met you he'd still be the intolerable, impatient and disrespectful person as he grows up.

He'd still fear the unknown, never having the courage to take risks and accept whatever outcomes.

Everything he does always brings him back to you, his actions always correlates to something that's relevant about you. It had always been you.

He prays the Celestia to let you know you will always be apart of his person. Yes, you died, but every lingering piece of you still remains intact in the deep recesses of his mind.

He has moved on, but you remain the person he loved the most. Not even the sands of time has the capability to change that.

"How disastrous. People can be really simple-minded." Morax rubbed both of his temples once he heard the speculation of him and Guizhong plausible relationship.

"I apologize on their behalf, it never crossed my mind they'll be quick to make assumptions." The fair Goddess bowed in shame.

"You have done nothing wrong to spark such rumors, Guizhong. If anything, it is I who should seek forgiveness for I have tied you down with such unpleasant gossips."

She meekly chuckles, "If we're going to paint ourselves as the culprit then we might as well work together to quell the rumors."

His perfectly lined eyebrows knitted, which didn't go unnoticed by Guizhong, "What seems to be troubling your mind?"

A few seconds ticked by before he let out a whisper that only Barbatos can only hear thanks to his wind. For Guizhong who has keen sense of hearing, "If Y/N was here I'll gear up for another war just to extinguish this spreading rumors." She stifled a laugh.

Oh, she knows alright. She knows you. She knows the person who captivated Morax's heart, it's all about he talks to her in their leisure time and you're not a secret between their comrades.

Most people would find it dull to listen about someone's life unless it held any merit to pass onto the other mouth, she would too. But Morax describes you like a protagonist of a fairy tale, like some mythical being, caught between two worlds, a miracle of existence that racked his existence— which makes you an interesting person

She was so eager to meet you, it was rather unfortunate that you've already passed on uncountable years ago.

"Where are you going?" She inquired as the Geo Archon whisk passed her, "Out to visit an old friend. I won't be returning until tomorrow dawn."

She sighed, a corresponding smile soon follows as she took over his job for the meantime.

Morax walked through the barren areas in Mt. Tianheng, it became part of his leisure activities during the day when his mind needs to detach itself from reality and let himself be swayed by the memories he tucked in the deep recesses of his mind.

Memories of his late comrades who perished in the horrors of war and the most painful but nostalgic one; Y/N.

He ruefully sighed at the thought of you. Even in death, you have full grasp of his heart and shroud his head with your image.

Filtered beams of light accented the spaces between the ancient trees that twisted like spires from the undergrowth. Golden leaves littered the forest floor as Morax appraised the trail of mycelium path, one leading to a particular tree.

His expression remains unchanging, at least that's what he thought, any stranger sees him they'll stop to ponder what made this godly man smile so fondly.

A single maple leaf flow with the breeze, swaying in inconsistent direction until it falls in his gloved hand. The rich color of autumn and texture brings him back in his youthful days.

[ cttro papercider on Twitter ]

"Ah! All I do is reminisce to pass time." He muttered to himself as he let the leaf get carried away by the zither winds once again.

"It certainly has been awhile, Y/N. I was but a petulant child since I've visited you. I now stand here as the Geo Archon." It has been a habit to come back to this specific tree and treats it as his home.

It's a sacred place he's closely attached to, he can perfectly picture his young self failing to spy on you. He grimaced at the memory when he was caught in the act.

"I still have no idea why you let me trail your shadows, you weren't least afraid that I'm a dragon. You told me you're fascinated, but. . . was that the only reason?"

Only the breeze answered for him with nothing, "If you hadn't allowed me to do so I do not know what kind of person I would be as of today." He steps closer and pulled off his hood.

He let the silence hang for minutes, maybe even hours. Just standing there as he appreciates what nature has to offer in the place where his story began with you.

"Are you proud of me? My comrades claimed they were more than proud to stand alongside with me, but I doubt the veracity of their words when I led them to their demise. Is it that prideful to have me as a friend when I bring nothing but misfortune?"

He finally sat down between the roots of the tree, relishing the blissful comfort as the sunlight accentuates his godly features.

"I met a boy who was being manipulated by an evil god who only desires power and selfish gains." He began.

"He was a fierce warrior, strong and capable, the manipulation only fuels him to be at his strongest form. I was thinking of eradicating him, but his eyes already looked so dead. It reminded me of. . ."

He holds his tongue and shuts his eyes as he's in pain, "It would be one of my greatest regrets if I had impaled my spear into him."

"I thought of you that time. Hadn't it been to my promise to you, I wouldn't have gained a new ally. Xiao is his name."

The wind blew stronger, ". . . I forgot you can summon him just by calling out his name." He chuckles to himself.

Green statics cracked into the air and quickly revealed a masked man with his polearm readied for any danger.

"Settle down now. I apologize, your name slipped in my mouth." The young Yaksha visibly looked confused even under the layers of his mask.

"I was narrating a story to my old friend Y/N."

Guizhong couldn't have been more right.

By the end of the day, Xiao now knows every detail there is to know about the person called Y/N. It's what Morax ever talk to him.

"Mr. Zhongli is in a very elated mood ever since you told him Archon knows what, Traveler." Hu Tao, the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor finds the situation quite absurd to look at, but never impossible. His mood just feels out of place.

Who looks at mournful families with an eccentric smile on their face as they consult them about their loved one's death?

"Why does Paimon feel like you're pointing finger at the traveler?" She puts her tiny hands on tiny her hips like a mother hen.

The Traveler let out a nervous laugh, "I wonder what exactly brought him in such high spirit with my words."

"Ooh... Paimon thinks it's about Y/N. Isn't it obvious by now?" Hu Tao furrowed her eyebrows, "Y/N? You mean the Adventurer?" Both heads snapped at her direction, "You know them?"

She reluctantly shrugged, "Only at acquaintance level. They showed interest in business and I taught them a few things." She smiled at the epilogue of her statement.

"If they ever come back, my hunch tells me you'd find them in Wangshu Inn, they frequented there before." She added before turning her attention to a new customer.

Zhongli, who's been eavesdropping, perked up at the claims. Perhaps he should visit Xiao tonight and totally won't inquire if he ever met you before.

Midnight falls and Zhongli bid his farewell to the traveler before heading towards the Wangshu Inn.

For some unknown reason, Zhongli could sense the foreboding feeling that's nagging his instincts as he gets closer to his desired destination, yet he doesn't stop. What's worse is that he doesn't know if it's for the good or bad.

All of a sudden, a harsh breeze blew past his face as if the winds attempting to convey a message that's only for his intuition to decipher, for him to meander.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his statue glowing bright blue, but that wasn't what caught his attention. A hand reached out to touch the stone statue.

A mop of [H/C] facing him backward bowed down in respect of the late Rex Lapis, but Zhongli could feel a much more intense feeling.

Something stirs inside him, he remembers this situation— when he watched Y/N with such fascination from above the tree, not knowing what they look like, yet they never fail to express their feelings through threaded words he finds so wondrous to hear.

In contrary to that, the person appears to be. . . forlorn. He stepped closer until he's only less than five meters away from them.

All of a sudden, he feels skittish around the person. It's as if he doesn't want to leave a bad first impression, he's suddenly self-conscious of his looks, and Zhongli never cared about his outer appearance.

Then they spoke, in a solemn voice.

"See you later, Mora. I hope you found your eternal peace."

There are times when you wish you'd forget Morax, some that you don't. But still, in the birth of new beings, you will find Morax in his next life. The prospect of being alone is a phobia you can't ever overcome unless you have Morax.

What a joke. It should've been a farewell. Your final goodbye to your old friend. Not a hopeless see you later.

It took you months to come with that mindset, only to end up saying what's the exact opposite.

It was difficult to come back in Liyue, every step adds a new pile of memory that drags you further into the depths of agony. Every where you look reminds you of the late Geo Archon. Each encouraging word in your mind gets trampled on by his image.

You consider it as an achievement to stand tall in front of his statue after his death, and a failure that you didn't get to bid your final words to him before you depart from Liyue.

You're still clinging to a nonexistent hope that you'll actually get to see him even after your death. Old habits die hard they say. It couldn't have been more relatable than now.

Sighing in disappointment, you retracted your hand from the statue and briskly turn around when you felt the disturbance behind you.

A gloved hand suspended in the air seems to be trying to reach out to you. As you raise your eyes to meet the oh-so-familiar glowing amber eyes that you grew to love. . .

You offered the stranger a faux smile, seemingly naive to the person standing in front of you with an aghast expression.

You failed to realize Morax as Zhongli just as Morax failed to realize you in your different lives.

"Hello. How may I help you?"

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Time has stopped, both hands of the clock moved counterclockwise, bringing him back to the time he first laid his eyes on you— so unsuspecting from what's about to unravel after a sweet hello.

His broadened eyes are solely fixated on you, it ingnited a feeling he couldn’t immediately identify, a sense of a certain and long-forgotten familiarity fogged his memory.

From the color of your eyes, skin and hair. The subtle furrow of your eyebrows and the upturn of your lips. The gentle facade that compelled him to indulge his curiosity towards you.

Y/N. . . Are you the Y/N the traveler was talking about?

But you bare no resemblance to the Y/N he knew, yet he can tell how it is your soul residing in the mortal's body. It is you. Your eyes aren't the ones that welcomed him as new friend. It feels different.

You're smiling while your eyes are grieving.

Your eyes failed to conceal your weeping soul and could only hope the last bits of its strength will keep it standing until someone reach a hand to put back the shattered pieces.

Behind that gleeful stare was a mountain of pain and extracting it would bring instability to the person who would dare to climb. Yet come what may, you're always worth any risk.

He lowered his hand to shake yours, his lips upturned into an enigmatic smile.

Your heart went erratic and the usually dormant butterflies imploded in your stomach. You haven't felt like a teenager since. . .

You felt your breath hitch in your throat when suddenly, with a mere handful of strides, the beautiful man was standing right in front of you, his amber eyes searching your face intently, trying to find whatever it was he was seeking.

"My name is Zhongli, I'm a consultant in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor." Your [E/C] eyes blinked surreptitiously before accepting it. What a beautiful name, you thought almost immediately.

Under normal circumstances you would've strictly reprimanded the man with his incongruous advances, but you felt something else, something so powerful it overshadowed your senses.

It was a need, an unyielding need to be close to him.

Rather than pushing him away, something inside you stirs awake and begin to implore to coalesce with his existence.

"I'm Y/N L/N, an adventurer."

So it is really you.

He briefly looks down to their intwined hands.

For countless nights, the image of your bloodied hand reaching out to him as you take your last breath plagued his every dream. The tender, soft hands that will no longer bring him comfort. The hand of the person whom he loved so dearly, whom he failed to protect against the wicked ways of the world.

The intense urge to hide you away from the prying eyes that shared similarities to his kept his mind in shambles.

Which what led him to mumble to you what his thoughts are repeating like a mantra.

When he spoke the promise he'll show you what's up at the highest altitude his wings could go, he was mostly speaking out of his selfish desire to hold onto your hand and fly you away to the farthest place no living creatures have ever stumbled upon.

He had to learn it the hard way; that the greater you wish for something, the crueler fate can be. Maybe if he hadn't been so greedy you could've live your mortal life.

Now that you are standing in front of him, shaking your hand, he can amend his mistake by straying far away from you before he repeats history itself, before he could inflict pain on you again.

And yet, looking at you attempting to shoulder the boulders of life is what all it takes for all the wisdom he garnered for centuries to be thrown out the window.

He can't imagine himself distancing from you when you're suffering and have no one comfortable enough to share your burdens with, no one to validate your feelings, no one to embrace you in your vulnerable times.

You taught him to be compassionate, to not disregard emotions, and he's about to set that in motion. You were there when he needed you the most, offered your shoulder to vent out his feelings, it's about time to let him do what you always did for him.

It became abundantly clear he's not willing to let you go through anything alone just like he had gone through without you.

"You claim you're a consultant. Did you perhaps think I'm a potential customer?"

He let go of your hand as much as he loathes being away from your warmth for even just a second, he's still convinced you can be taken away from him at any given moment.

"Indeed, I couldn't stand idle and watch you grieve alone." He watches how you averted your eyes as if hiding the pain would appease your mind.

"I appreciate the thought. . . though, I highly doubt it'll be effective."

He mentally chuckled at the irony. He, too, was once amazed of what simple gestures can bring to a downhearted person.

"Hmm. An old friend once showed me how to console a person. Allow me to share their insights."

Your eye brows perched in curiosity, this man speaks like he's in his 50s or something, ". . .If you insist. I could use a company for now."

Morax experienced eons of desires to attain what he wishes to, though he refrains from being blinded by those greedy thoughts as he had witnessed how cruel fate can be when he once desired to have you. Will history repeat itself?

Zhongli chortles in response, but his expression soon turned nostalgic, "I may not know what adversities you're facing nor do I know who you are, but know that you're never alone."

His smile never left his face as he takes off his glove and held the palm face forward to you, he watches how your eyes glisten with unshed tears, "W-What is that supposed to convey?"

You didn't even notice how much gap he closed just to increase the proximity between the both of you. Archons! You can smell the lingering scent of Osmanthus Wine mingling with his breath!

Is he a drunkard like Venti?

Perhaps this man is drunk to comprehend his actions, perhaps he won't remember this the never next day, perhaps he has mistaken you for someone else, perhaps—

"Wherever you wish to go, I'll keep you company. I dare ask if I may hold your hand along the way, Y/N?"

Perhaps there's hope you can cling onto until your aching heart is at ease.

Your hand found its way to his, almost too desperate to not let this moment of comfort vanish. Just this once, you thought to yourself as the man smiled with absolute glee that it puts the sun in shame.

Out of reflex, your fingers laced with his, wanting nothing more than to relieve in the warmth of his hand. His expression soon turned into a priceless one as if he's in disbelief that you actually just did that, and that alone made the realization struck you harder than Raiden's lightning and fried your nerves with embarrassment.

"I-I'm so-sorry! I didn't mean to get too comfortable!"

You're a stranger to him, and you acted as if you've been a longtime friends. He must have been feeling uncomfortable, you nervously thought as you quickly tried reel back your hand in an attempt to salvage whatever budding acquaintanceship you have.

Keyword; tried.

Your action prompts him to retaliate by locking his fingers in place, keeping your hand sealed with his and shot you a reassuring smile.

"Do not fret. I'm delighted to know I somehow earned a little fraction of your trust. It's only fair to mirror the trust you gave me."

As if to spell out his point, he held up your intertwined hands just below your chin. His eyes blazed with a newfound emotion you couldn't decipher. He almost looks eager. He was gripping your hand, not too tight, but firm enough give emphasize of something.

His action wasn't fruitless as it gained a reaction from you. Your eyebrows twitched, there's something too familiar about it, but your memory refuses to give you that answer.

Instead, you could only mutter weak responses, "I-I understand, but if you feel uncomfortable in any way then don't hesitate to point out what I'm doing wrong."

Whether it was a satisfying answer he wants to hear, his emotions betrayed to even give you a brief answer and his face only lit up as he turns away from you, "You could never do anything wrong in my eyes."

Did he just say something? "What was that?"

"Nothing. Are you new in Liyue? I could give you a tour if you'd like to make you familiarize with the environment."

Your lips turned into a genuine smile, it didn't reach your ears but something tells you this man will lengthen it until you're the happiest person alive, "I'd love to, Zhongli."

As the wind blows to the East, a new chapter has began with a new retelling of their unfinished story. Until the last maple leaf falls and the oldest standing tree drought, two souls will always find their way to rekindle what has been lost.

>> PART III

─ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. @itsyourgirlria @shizunxie @elsoleil @cherlynono @slzarr @katsuissus @tartarsaucechi1de @spyanya @tikitsune @shoujishu @useless-potatho @chimsblogg @xiamuyi @lemonlimesocks @belletifeshyl @alexon-mars @multifandomvoyage @malt-rants-and-stuff @jameineliebe @angelkazusstuff @orginiallyann @eissaaaa @beezgobuzzbuzz @towos @kamukayakmonyet @atsukawolfcat @sunflowers1970 @yamtwt @avery-needs-more-fics @angstylittleb1tch @bigcandlesmolbrain @lxmine @imk1ra @fauxizs @islxisl @chihawari @bishishbored @yuuki4646 @sunsethw4 @princeabomination @alexiris @chocolateneapolitan @ayra2452008 @akaritenchi @sophiee-bush @ittosoneandoniwife @alatus2716 @almighty-raiden-shogunate

(it's my first time doing tags so pls inform me if it's not working, idk why the others are white, did I do something wrong??)

PS. if you want to get tagged for the next part or be removed then simply comment it TAGLIST is for the readers who want to be updated for my future genshin works.

─ 𝐀/𝐍. Can you all smell that? *sniff sniff* I smell a Xiao ver. of this 👀👀 Fr, I didn't expect the fic will be loved that much as I initially thought, I received many appreciative comments and messages which is what motivated me to write part 2, and possibly part 3 (just for the fluff) since this was supposed to be a series but I crossed that idea out until everyone broke my expectation. Thank you💜💙 and merry christmas everyone ❤💚

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli fic #zhongli angst #genshin crossover #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #zhongli fluff #crossover #see you in my 19th life #webtoon #genshin impact crossover #reborn au #genshin zhongli #Spotify

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sailorrhansol · 5 days

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One in the Grave | 01

❀ Pairing: Vampire!Vernon x Dhampir!Reader (f)

❀ Summary: Immortal problems require immortal solutions, but you never expected the unlikely help from a vampire lord and the destruction that might come with it.

❀ Series Word Count: 8,143

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Dystopian,

❀ Type: Unlikely allies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Chapter Warnings: My baby girl has PTSD!!! Very much forgetting where she is sometimes and thinking she’s back in The Bad Place, mentions of past torture and abuse (recalls someone breaking her bones over and over), mentions of mind control/compulsion, mentions of murder, gross ass vampires being killed grossly and sometimes the word choice is icky like did I need to use the word sinew? No but I did. A lot of references to Trauma and Being Traumatized, Jeonghan is funny but also diabolical about said Trauma, lots of blood because this is a vampire fic, fight scenes that idk if they make sense, mentions of disease, like hints of mentions of there being like DiRtY bLoOd classism what else… reader hates herself and it’s Saur Obvious. Reader sort of has an accidental terminator setting when she gets too into fighting and goes Sicko Mode and punches through a vampires chest to rip its heart out idk thats kind graphic

❀ A/N: This chapter took me forever to write because I re-wrote sections so many times, but I'm finally happy with where I ended up. I deviated from my outline almost immediately, but this beginning to this story feels more natural than the original! I am so excited to be writing this and to take you on a very dramatic journey through this vampiric, dystopian world.

A/N 2: Huge thank you to the best beta team a girlie can ask for in @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda because without them, so much of this would not make sense.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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I need not fear the dark. I need not fear the pain. In the dark, I was made. In pain, I become anew. I am the Grim.

Darkness seeps from the damp walls next to you. The air is foul and wet, leaving a sour taste on your tongue, nearly cloying the back of your throat. There’s no part of the Undercity that isn’t dripping with rot. It clings to your boots as you slip through the tunnels, settling on your skin as you turn a corner.

Water drips in several of the tunnels. You can hear the soft splash as the drops hit the puddles, the only sound in the deep dark. You frown - you know you’re not alone. The underground paths leading to the heart of the Undercity might seem empty, but they are never what they appear to be.

On instinct, you take a left. Even in the dark, you can see the general lay of the land, a complex network of abandoned, vampire-made passageways under the city of Black Harbor. The tunnels go farther than the city walls, stretching beneath the human districts in the Tombstones and ending at random stop points in the Wilds.

Another left and you’ll be heading east toward the coast. Even the old vampires would lose their way in the tunnels - everything looks and smells the same. You’re not one of them, though, and you’ve learned these tunnels by heart. Could navigate them even without your sharp vision.

A wet step catches your attention. You stop and crouch low, looking ahead. Dark shapes blend together. Even with enhanced vision, you can only see so far in the Undercity, the general darkness blending together.

But you can hear.

Another wet step catches your ears. You close your eyes and focus on the sounds. The steady drip drip drip of the pipes brackets the sound of a soft hissing - not hissing. Sniffing. Scenting.

Without wind in the Undercity, you don’t have to worry about the breeze carrying your scent. Still, the things lurking in the dark, especially recently, are better at smelling the difference between what’s alive and what’s dead. You straddle the line between, but you’re alive enough.

Slowly, your hand reaches up behind your back, grasping the leather handle of your blade. The scenting stops and you hear a soft grinding sound, like teeth gnashing, followed by slow steps. You pull your blade out the rest of the way, twisting it in your hand and taking a slow, deep breath.

The steps stop for a moment - and then something is running, the wet slap deafening in the silence of the tunnels. You poise yourself, leaning a little forward, ready to throw your weight into your strike. You’ll need to be fast.

Out of the darkness, a loping humanoid shape appears. The Rabid looks more or less human from a distance, but as it gets closer, you see everything wrong with it: crimson eyes as a result of broken blood vessels, bulging veins as a result of swelling before the host died, rows of serrated teeth, and twitching, dislocated limbs.

Nothing about a Rabid is human. Nothing about a Rabid is really a vampire, either. Though they’re a vampire species, they lack the fundamental ability for cognitive function, and are thus only driven by the need to feed insatiably.

Human-shaped but twisted by post-mortem metamorphosis, whatever person they used to be before Red Fever infected them and killed them is gone. In the place of what used to be a person is a genderless cryptid with muscular, half-rotted bodies and nails like talons. They’re more bedtime story monsters than they are anything else, and you’re running around their home in the dark.

The feral hunger works in your favor. The Rabid misses on its first swing as you duck, throwing your weight into your thrust as you plunge the sword through the creature’s abdomen. It screams, striking at you again but you’re already moving, keeping your momentum going as you pull the weapon with you, the sucking sound of the blade pulling from its stomach sickening.

It isn’t the worst sound you’ve heard, and you don’t let it stop you as you spin on your heel, slicing wickedly at the Rabid’s head. It ducks, though, sensing the attack as it scrambles away from you, curling inward as it bleeds from the middle. The wound won’t kill it, but making them bleed is key.

Blood is imperative to a Rabid’s strength. The more blood they’ve ingested recently, the stronger they are. Severing limbs and damaging the heart that pumps blood through the system - or removing it entirely - is important.

The creature turns to face you again. You spin the blade, point it toward the Rabid and take a wide stance, one foot forward and one foot backward with your weight centered on the back foot. Any other foe with a thinking, calculating sense would try to assess. The Rabid does not, driving forward again with a snarl, jaw extending beyond a normal human’s with the intention to bite down wherever it can.

Spinning to the side, your sword arm follows your momentum, coming down hard on the back of the Rabid’s neck. You hear the crack of bone as it cuts, your sword carving easily. The head separates from the rest of the body, thudding against the wet floor of the tunnel.

There’s no time to worry about burning the body yet. More hisses slither up the tunnel and the wet slap of feet rushing toward you is warning enough that other Rabids have been alerted.

That’s fine. You step away from the slain beast and face the source of the noise, taking your stance again, muscles coiled, heart pounding as your blood rushes. You feel the adrenaline mount, hitting your system like a high, pulse throbbing, focus narrowing.

Kill. Kill.

The impulse is fleeting, there and gone again. You grimace and swallow down the instinct to fall into a blind rage. Using bloodlust to fuel your fighting is a side effect of how you’ve been conditioned and taught - one you’re trying to get rid of. It might make you fight better, but it’s hard to escape the undercurrent of the frenzy once you let it pull you under.

They charge, hissing and snarling as they go. There is nothing planned or in sync about their attack. Rabids may sometimes linger near one another or nest together, but there’s no pack mentality, no strategy to the way they move. It makes it easy to take them down, but easy to get overwhelmed if there are too many.

Three isn’t bad. You cut through them with concise, sharp movements. Fighting Rabids isn’t like fighting sentient creatures. It’s not a dance, but there is a chopping rhythm to it, a hack and step that feels like a pattern as you go.

Step step slash. Step step stab. Step step duck. Step step slash.

When it’s done, sweat beads at the back of your neck. Silence falls in the damp passageways of the Undercity. You stand, hardly winded with your sword dripping in ichor, looking down both of the hallways that bracket you on either side.

Nothing else comes.

You flick your sword hand, freeing it from some of the gore before digging into one of your pockets, fishing out a small bottle and cloth. Carefully you uncap the bottle and tilt your blade point down, pommel near your face. You squeeze liquid out over the metal, hearing the hiss as the antiseptic eats at the foul blood on the weapon before stoppering and putting it back in your pocket.

With delicacy, you wipe the cloth on the flat of the blade, cleaning it. Sheathing the blade, you reach into another pocket, pulling out a small tablet of firestarter. You snap it in half and toss it onto the pile of bodies, flames catching immediately.

The sudden light makes your vision flash white for just a moment before it adjusts. The darkness hovers at the edge of the light like a hungry, creeping thing. In the firelight, you see the dispatched bodies of the dead, once victims to the virus that killed them and turned them into the mindless, frenzied creatures that lurk in the Undercity tunnels and the Wilds.

Not even the rats come down here. At least, the uninfected ones don’t. Even a rat makes a good meal for the feral creatures of the Undercity.

There was a time when you would have fed on the rats in the Undercity. A time you were so hungry, you gave into your primal instincts. A time when you were so hungry for love and approval from your master that you would do - and did - anything for it. Giving into bloodlust when fighting and becoming a mindless tool was easy, back then.

Fresh air greets you as you climb the rusty, iron ladder to the surface. It’s cold outside, autumn wind stinging the sweat on the back of your neck when you finally pull yourself out of the hole and flip the heavy, metal lid over one of many entrances to the Undercity.

An empty quad of an abandoned school surrounds you, crumbling brick buildings empty save for rotted furniture and dust, walls blown in and cracked from some skirmish during The Fall. The schoolyard grass is overgrown, brushing against your hips as you begin your routine, movements down to a science.

First, you pull the bottle of antiseptic out of your pocket and clean your hands before pulling out cleaning supplies from your pack. Then, you pull off all your clothes, cool air making the hair on your arms stand on end. The cold gets worse when you begin to wipe your skin with sticky antiseptic pads, tossing them into a pile on the ground as you go.

The routine is robotic. Disinfect. Take off your clothes. Disinfect. Put on new clothes. Disinfect. Put old clothes in a bio-safe bag to clean them later and burn the wipes.

Getting the virus isn’t likely for you, but you never take the chance, especially living in the human districts on the outskirts of the city. Red Fever hasn’t plagued the mortal population in a few years, but a single outbreak could make the community collapse.

And the vampires in the city wouldn’t help. They never do, even as those living under their jurisdiction get picked off by Rabids, vampires undermining the law, and other things lurking in the ruins just outside of Black Harbor.

No blood tax, no protection.

The sentiment makes you grit your teeth as you watch the antiseptic wipes turn to flames, then to embers, then to ashes. You can smell the fumes fade with the wind, along with the sound of a soft footfall.

You wheel around, unsheathing the weapon at your feet as you spin, pointing the tip of your blade at the figure behind you. Jeonghan seems unphased, looking down the sharp edge of the sword with a lopsided grin.

“Sloppy, little sister.”

“Oh fuck you.” Your muscles unclench and you spin the weapon, sheathing it. Jeonghan’s hands are in his pockets, eyes twinkling as he watches you. “What do you want?”

“I can’t check up on you?”

“Not usually, no.”

Jeonghan doesn’t check up on you. At least, not in the way you imagine normal siblings might. Jeonghan isn’t a normal sibling, though. He’s hardly a sibling at all - you share a bloodsire, not a biological parent. Blood kin would be a more apt term for the familial bond between you.

Still, when you think back on your life, Jeonghan has always been there. Fills the corners of your memories as a steady hand, a vicious thorn in your side, a confidant, an enemy, a rival.

“You like visiting the Undercity these days. Perhaps I, too, am nostalgic.”

“I don’t visit for nostalgia,” you snap. You strap the sword belt across your chest, the weight against your back a great comfort. “Don’t goad me.”

Jeonghan looks the same as he always has in the last hundred or some odd years. He’d stopped aging - as most dhampirs do - sometime in his thirties. His round, youthful face, and gentle eyes hide the demon within. Hundreds have fallen prey to Jeonghan’s saccharine smile and false, gentle disposition.

Wolf in lamb’s clothing.

“You’re no fun. Junhui is so much nicer to me when I visit.”

“Jun is nice to everyone.”

“Maybe you should take notes. Your neighbors might like you more.” You pause, looking at him with narrowed eyes. His grin spreads. “You think I don’t know where you live?”

“What do you want?”

“I need your assistance.”

“Doubt it.”

“Not everyone is a monster-slaying machine like you are. Some of us actually take the time to enjoy our freedom.”

Freedom.

A word you don’t quite understand. You might have gotten rid of the master holding your leash, but her influence is still heavy enough to control everything you do, even now. Freedom doesn’t exist for someone like you. Not really. You’re shackled by your inability to make your own choices, and the only things you’re good at are the things Lilith made you learn.

I need not fear the dark. I need not fear the pain. In the dark, I was made. In pain, I become anew. I am the Grim.

Most of your life has been spent in the service of killing your blood mother’s enemies, helping her carve her empire out in the world left over from the destruction of humankind. You’d also helped defeat her, but the absolution of ridding the world of her is not nearly enough to wipe out the long list of foul deeds to your name.

“You don’t have to help me.” Jeonghan’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. “However, I do not like the idea of going into a Rabid nest alone.”

“You want my help with a Rabid nest? Why?”

“There’s something inside of the building that a client needs. Some Rabids happen to have made it a home.”

You study him. He’s dressed in all-black dress pants and a black button-up, an equally black blazer thrown on over it. Jeonghan looks the part of casual elegance, a fine piece of art that is out of place in the middle of the abandoned bones of what was once a school, you think.

“Why me?”

“I need a weapon.” His mouth quirks. “Plus, I like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do! You’re my favorite sister.”

“I’m the only sister you have that’s still alive.”

He holds up a finger to present his counterargument. “I killed our last sister but I haven’t killed you. If that’s not favoritism, what is?”

You walk past him, heading toward Black Harbor. “I want half of whatever you’re being paid.”

“Thirty percent.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Deal.”

Jeonghan catches up to you easily, hands still tucked into his pockets in that casual way of his. His hair is a little longer than you remember, tucked behind his ears as he smiles, happy to have you onboard for whatever it is he’s roped you into.

It isn’t the first time he’s sought you out for assistance - especially for killing - and you know it won’t be the last. Of all your blood kin, Jeonghan is the one who keeps in contact with you the most. Junhui might be sweet and fond of you, as is his way, but you’re too volatile for him, made to be loved at a distance.

None of your siblings love you, though. You don’t think any of the children of Lilith have the ability to love. It was bred out of you early and punished if it tried to crawl back in. Even loyalty to anyone but your master in the Undercity was punished.

Neither of you asks how the other is. Jeonghan won’t answer you honestly and you suspect he knows exactly how you’ve been. The not-so-retired spymaster has a network of little spiders in his web, scrambling back and forth to feed him information on any number of people.

You wonder if this is what freedom means to him. After living his entire life in the service of your shared sire, Jeonghan seems to have mastered his destiny, using the skills he was taught to climb the ranks among the vampires of Black Harbor and sit pretty. Still, in a way, he’s reverted to old habits just like you have, buying and selling secrets to keep himself safe like he did in the old days.

Maybe freedom is an illusion.

The blasted landscape around you doesn’t change as you walk eastward. Nameless buildings and road structures spread out in either direction. Cracked, broken, and decayed is an apt description for most things outside of the city, especially the closer you get to the Wild.

You turn northeast, heading toward the bridge that leads into Black Harbor. It’s roughly an hour's walk directly into the city from the abandoned schoolyard where you entered the Undercity. It isn’t the only entrance to the underground network, nor is it the closest, but it’s the most reliable and you don’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on you.

Unless they’re a former resident themself, which are in rare numbers.

“Where is this Rabid nest?” you ask as the night deepens. The cool air kisses the back of your neck and lifts strands of Jeonghan’s inky hair. Above, the moon is swollen and momentarily hidden behind thick clouds.

“The old museum right outside the West End.”

You glance sideways at him. “That museum was an epicenter of outbreaks. No wonder there’s a nest.”

“Good thing we’re immune then, hmm?”

“We’re not immune, Jeonghan. Resistant and immune aren’t the same thing.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I survived the disease for two hundred years in the Undercity. And you have your nice little disinfectant wipes, don’t you?” Jeonghan pauses and looks you up and down, pointing at the ashes of your burnt pile. “Why do you do that, by the way? To protect that fragile little human community you live in?”

Yes, you want to say. Instead, you say nothing at all. Jeonghan might be half-human like you, but he has little empathy for them in general, unlike you. He tends to align himself with whoever he benefits the most from, and the humans have certainly never been in a position to help him out.

Not that they would. Most humans don’t assign a difference between vampires and dhampir. Your human neighbors might tolerate your presence, but it’s just that - tolerance. As soon as they feel threatened by you, they’ll hire someone to try and kill you, as is the way in the Tombstones.

Jeonghan scoffs. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sentiment.”

“Rather auspicious for you, wouldn’t you say brother?”

He grins but doesn’t respond, tilting his head up toward the sky.

Gravel crunches beneath your feet. You keep a sweeping gaze on the quiet world around you. Crickets quiet as you pass, waiting until you’re out of range before taking up their song again. When the clouds move away from the moon, the world turns grey.

Nothing disturbs the two of you on your walk. You spot a feral pack of cats with sharp eyes watching from the long grass. You can sense them assessing you, deciding if you’re prey or predator. They remain in their clutch of darkness. Predator, then.

Jeonghan doesn’t strike up a conversation again as you walk. Instead of trying to get him to divulge details, you go through what you know about the old museum near the West End. It was a hot spot for breakouts early on during The Fall, and after Black Harbor became a city-state, it remained an issue under the jurisdiction of the Chwe family for years.

A center of resources, it had been targeted early on as humans tried to build communities and safeholds in a rapidly apocalyptic world. The museum has the space to house the resources, and protection that people brought to form a community, turning it into a quarantine zone at the very start of The Fall. Any building large enough to house a community center had people flocking to build safe zones, eager to recommission the square footage and walls into quarantined housing and living centers.

And they fell just as quickly.

Disease has no consideration for isolation, though. Particularly one as contagious and debilitating as Red Fever. In most cases, people killed themselves once they realized they had the fever. Suffering through the hemorrhaging and the madness wasn’t worth the small chance of turning into a vampire post-death, and carriers were too dangerous to be kept alive anyway. Accusations of sickness were as deadly as catching the virus itself.

The museum still remained a problem even after the collapse of its original community. Humans like to stick to what they know, rebuilding on old ground and trying to salvage what was left before them. Perhaps the human communities there could have flourished if the guard in the West End did anything to keep the Rabids and the rogue bands of vampires from decimating them, but anything outside of the official city limits of Black Harbor was only under the jurisdiction of the Chwe family, not the protection.

Those who wanted to be saved had to pay the blood tax, and most people weren’t even eligible for the blood tax, as picky as the vampires were with their qualifications and standards for clean, safe blood.

Salt tinged the air as you approached the official demarcation line of the Tombstones. It wasn’t an official name, but there was no point in giving it a real name - it was expendable ground, as far as Lord Chwe and his family were concerned.

Old, rusted piles of metal were pushed to the edges of the pavement to make way for the few operational vehicles that dared to travel outside of the city, creating the illusion that the road was lined by dead, decayed beetles.

Sounds from the city drift over the water and toward you. Lights in the distance glitter over the wall, skyscrapers bright against the dark swath of sky. The dichotomy between visions of human destruction and vampiric ascension always strikes you, the discordant images the perfect depiction of your two worlds.

“Why don’t you visit Jun anymore?” Jeonghan’s question catches you off guard. You tear your eyes away from the shimmering city to look at the dhampir next to you. His hands are still tucked in his pocket, the picture of cool and casual.

“I don’t think he wants me to.”

Jeonghan frowns. “That seems unlikely.”

“I assumed I reminded him too much of ho- of the Undercity.”

“I still think of it as home too, sometimes.” You don’t answer for a moment, unsure where the conversation is leading. Jeonghan is a storm of unpredictability, his desires changing direction with the wind. “Is it because you feel guilty?”

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who wants my help.”

“I’m in the business of asking questions, little sister. Consider it the desire to see my siblings happy. One seems dead set on never shedding the victimhood of her past and one is too afraid to tell his siblings he’s lonely out of fear of rejection.”

You ignore the barb. “Good. Loneliness is temporary. He’s better off without me around.”

He makes a sound of disgust. “You were always such a self-righteous wretch. Spare me the I have done evil and should avoid the world speech.”

“You asked me!”

“I thought after fifty years you might be less insufferable!” He shoots back, taking his hands out of his pocket to throw them up. “I should have known better. Now come on, if you’re so hellbent on living your life in permanent apology, you can come kill these Rabids for me.”

“I’m insufferable?”

Irritation shoots through you as Jeonghan speeds up, ignoring your question. The wind is stronger near the coast, ripping at the end of his blazer and lifting his hair. You scowl behind him, fists clenching and aching to punch him in the back of the head.

Jeonghan thinks everything is so easy. You’ve never known him to feel things as trivial as guilt or empathy, able to rationalize his way out of feeling a modicum of responsibility for anything he does.

So why do you help him? You always find yourself asking the same question every time he appears with a task or to poke at you. The answer, you think, is simple enough: he’s a constant. He was there when you were born, he was there when you were molded, and he was there when you suffered.

Suffered together.

Despite the way Jeonghan trivializes your grief, there are few people left in the world who can relate to you. Junhui shares the same past, but you don’t know how to face him. Don’t know how to look the gentlest of your siblings in the eye without feeling like you’re reminding him of everything he’s suffered.

And Jeonghan’s presence is comforting, in a way. The familiarity makes you feel easy, though dealing with him is anything but.

You don’t know whether he feels the same sense of attachment to you or not. You’re unsure most days whether he sticks his nose in your business for the brief familiarity of it or because he considers you an asset to his growing power.

The latter is the most likely.

Wind scatters leaves across the pavement. Ahead, the museum looms like a skeleton bathed grey in the night. Somewhere, metal groans and creaks as it moves in the breeze. It makes you think of a phantom moaning, a shiver sliding down your spine as Jeonghan walks straight for the doors of the building.

The doors to the museum are shattered. Glass and gravel crack beneath Jeonghan’s feet as he climbs the steps and stops just beyond the entryway, his hands tucked into his pocket as he cranes his neck upward to assess the full scope of the building.

You pause next to him. You inhale again. You don’t get much of a scent on anything but the ocean air, but it doesn’t mean there’s not something deep in the guts of the building.

“Well?” you ask, looking at Jeonghan. “Do you know where in this building you need to look? It’s pretty large.”

“Hall of Human Life.”

“That’s… ironic.”

His grin is beatific. “Shall we?”

As someone who frequents a variety of abandoned buildings, you’ve always been of the opinion that all empty buildings have the same dead, empty feel to them. You’ve long thought that none was more or less creepy than the others, but now you know you were decidedly incorrect.

There is something haunting about the museum. Evidence of human life is everywhere as you pass destroyed exhibits on life and science, but also sections you can tell were made for the communities that tried to set up here.

Sections of the building had been remade to house living quarters and even what appears to be a botanical section. Untended, the plant life has consumed the west end of the building, mostly weeds and unuseful vines stretching their fingers across cracked tiled and concrete.

Your swordhand flexes, ready to reach behind your back at a moment’s notice. You don’t hear or smell Rabids, but you come across the evidence of them soon enough - scattered bones and human carcasses, rotted blood stains on the floors and steps as you descend deeper into the darkness of the building.

It’s hard to discern what any of the exhibits used to be. Time and civilization have erased all but the bones of each, leaving you to guess what they are as you pass. You’re about to ask Jeonghan if he has any idea where the Hall of Human Life is when you smell it.

“Blood,” you murmur, hand going to your blade and pulling it silent from the sheath. “East.”

He glances at you and sniffs. “I don’t smell anything.”

“You aren’t a trained bloodhound.”

You’d trust Jeonghan if he were profiling someone and detailing every part of their life, psychology and desires. His skill has always been of a manipulation and information collecting sort, not the hunting and stick-a-knife-in-someone sort.

He follows you silently, slipping a deadly throwing star from his sleeve. You raise a brow. “I’m surprised you're armed.”

“I’m always armed, little sister.”

The sound of something snapping catches your attention and you hold out your hand, stopping him. Even he knows to obey you here. You listen and hear the sounds of crunching. Something breaking. Chewing, you realize. It is the sound of bones being snapped and the grind of teeth.

For a second, you’re not in the museum anymore. You’re in a dark room, the snap of bone sharp and loud against your ears. The sensation is worse than the sound, though. You feel the bolt of sharp, uncontrolled pain shoot through your leg from your thigh to your hip. It is agonizing, stopping you from thinking of anything else but the outrageous pulse of pain.

Your hand shoots to your thigh, feeling the phantom pressure of the foot as it fractures your femur again, the sneered voice telling you to stop your screaming as it steps down again, broken bone stabbing-

Jeonghan’s voice startles you. “You’re not there.”

Glancing to the side, you see Jeonghan watching you. His expression is unreadable, dark eyes pinning you to the place you stand. You realize your hand is hovering over your leg and you swear you feel the ghost of pain from the break. From the sound of the snap.

You don’t remember Jeonghan being there for that. Lilith had ordered Silas to break your bones over and over again. To make you used to the pain. To rebreak them when they healed. If you were ever captured and tortured, you needed to know pain. It needed to be an old friend, not something that could break you.

Then again, you’re sure Jeonghan’s been broken too. All of your siblings have known the torture of Silas, the perfect tool of to train Lilith’s children to develop no fear against pain.

There’s a flicker of kinship with Jeonghan until he mutters, “Experience trauma on your own time. I need you focused.”

Right. You’re here to help him do a job for money, not because you’re spending time together bonding as blood kin. When you really think about it, little adventures full of violence are the way you two often bond, even when you were under the thumb of Lilith.

Instead of shooting an insult at him, you creep forward, knees slightly bent and ready to spring. He follows you, a lithe shadow as you slip into the darkness.

Blood permeates the air in the underground level of the museum. At the foot of an unlit staircase, you step into a lobby of sorts. There are multiple metal, double doors leading into a room beyond. Over the doorway is a broken sign with missing letters: all man Li.

You snort and Jeonghan gives you a questioning look. You point toward the letters with your sword and whisper, “All man lie. All men lie.”

“Poetic. I suppose it was once Hall of Human Life.” You nod. “Rather inconvenient.”

Here, the sounds of multiple mouths chewing on flesh is louder. Wetter. You grimace and hope that the victims were dead long before they were dragged back to be made a meal of. Most Rabids won’t bring food back to a nest, too hungry and eager to eat right when they kill.

Blood is heavy in the air. Jeonghan’s nose flares and you know he smells it too. The scent is sweet like mulled wine with a hint of underlying fruit. Human. They always smelled sweet to you, something about them fragrant. A flicker of hunger burns through you and then is snuffed out. You don’t need blood and you don’t want it, especially with no way of knowing where it’s been or who it's from.

Getting infected doesn’t matter to Rabids. They’ve already suffered Red Fever and died, turning into mindless, feral vampires. To you, making sure you don’t contaminate yourself will be important, no matter how high your tolerance to the disease is.

Jeonghan taps his wrist as though he’s wearing a watch. You hold out a hand to tell him to be patient. You don’t know how many Rabids are on the other side of the doors, but from the grunting and amount of blood you can smell, you think it’s at least five. Maybe more.

Freshly fed Rabids will be a bitch to fight. You’ve never been inside the Hall of Human Life, but you don’t like the idea of walking into the nest blind and trying to fight without knowing how much space you have to fight. You also don’t want to fight where they have access to blood when they need it.

You settle on an idea, though you don’t like it much.

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” He doesn’t answer, side eyeing you. “I just need to know how long you think it will take once you’re in the room.”

“I know what I’m looking for.”

“Great. Go hide in that far corner by the bathrooms.”

He frowns. “Why - what are you doing?”

Without a second thought, you bring your free hand up to the sword and run your palm across it. You barely feel the sting of the cut, watching as the blood pools in your palm, welling up.

Silence.

Jeonghan realizes it too, bolting from the foot of the stairs to the dark corner of the lobby and into the bathrooms just as the sound of hissing rises up behind the doors. You take a step backward, foot on the bottom stair as you watch the door. You need the Rabids to frenzy and hunt you - you should be able to make it to the main lobby or outside, giving you room to fight and -

They burst through the doors. You turn on your heel and jump, clearing the steps easily. They’re snarling behind you, tripping over themselves as they chase after the scent of live, fresh blood.

You squeeze your fist as you go, making sure to keep them on your trail while you tear through the museum the way you came. It has the desired effect, working up the monsters into a violent mania as they close in on you.

Looking over your shoulder to see how many of them isn’t an option. You just keep running, nearing the front of the museum as you take a corner, skidding as you go. The front doors are just ahead, the moonlit world just beyond. You pump your legs harder, tearing over the concrete floor.

Just as you vault over the threshold of the door, something hits you from the side. The force is jarring, your teeth snapping together in an explosion of pain as you hit the ground, sword slipping from your grasp. You barely manage to avoid cracking your head on concrete.

Instinct takes over. You thrust a hand forward, catching the Rabid by the throat as it gnashes its teeth at you. The others are at the door now, screaming and howling like a savage pack of wolves. Even dazed, you find the sense to throw your weight against the creature, rolling over and throwing it off of you.

Your attacker hits the steps but scrambles back toward you. It doesn’t matter. You only need a moment to roll and collect your discarded sword, swiveling on a knee as it lurches at you. Steel connects with flesh and severs the head easily.

There’s no time to celebrate. You dive from the stairs, careful not to stab yourself in the stomach as another Rabid swings a clawed hand at you. Panting, you get to your feet, turning to face them as you skip backward toward the street.

Ten Rabids fan out on the steps, but they pause their attack. You grip your sword, waiting for them to keep the feral pursuit. Instead, they seem to be waiting for something, swiveling their heads and looking around.

You don’t like that. Rabids don’t hunt in packs, despite sometimes sharing a nest, and the image of them all hesitating together in sync is alarming. Worse, you realize they’re starting to make sounds, an intonation deep in their throat that almost reminds you of frogs in the rain during summer. Their heads pivot, looking at you and then looking at one another as they softly call to one another like they’re… talking.

A chill runs through you. You’ve never seen them talk before, and certainly not before attacking. They should be in a blood frenzy, killing each other to get to you, even.

One of them lets out the loudest shriek you’ve ever heard, your ears ringing. You nearly drop your sword in surprise. You take several steps back, suddenly unsure of your situation.

The Rabids begin to slink down the steps. As they do, a figure appears on the roof, its shadow dark against the brightness of the moon. For a split second you think it might be Jeonghan, but then it leaps, flying over the heads of the skulking Rabids to land only a few feet away from you.

“What the fuck are you?” you mutter, pointing your sword at it.

And it is an it. You have no idea what it is. The creature looks like a Rabid. It has blotchy skin where the fever bursted capillaries and blood red eyes, but it stands straighter than Rabids, eerily still, regarding you - and there’s a crude sword at its hip.

You’ve never seen them carry weapons before - they shouldn’t know how to use them. They were named Rabids because they lack the function of their frontal and parietal lobes, making them lesser vampires that can only operate on base animal instinct, driven entirely by the vampiric nature to consume.

Rabids communicating is alien enough, but carrying a sword? You have no idea if it knows how to use the weapon, but when it unsheathes the sword and takes a stance, you can’t help but feel a tiny pulse of doubt. It uses that moment to attack, striking forward stiffly as though to gut you.

At the same time, the non-intelligent Rabids attack. Cursing, you dodge the stab and run, trying to put distance between you. The leader stalks after you, weapon in hand; its gait smoother than the broken movements typical of the species but not exactly fast.

One of the non-intelligent ones gives chase to your flight, giving in to bloodlust. You face it and sidestep easily, bring your sword down on the back of its neck as you do. It cleaves cleanly, blood spraying upward. Two more of them lose their grip on logic and follow suit, only to join their slain nestmate on the ground.

The leader snarls angrily - not at you but at the other Rabids. They chatter and skitter back, letting the one with the sword take charge again, flanking it like they’ve been chastised.

You keep your weapon pointed at the leader. They attack together again. This time, you’re ready for it, meeting your opponent’s blow. The ring of metal echoes and you feel the force of the hit vibrate down your arm. You don’t let it stop your momentum, leaning to plant a hard kick in one of the other’s chests.

A rib cage cracks. You don’t stop. You duck under a claw and parry another attack, always moving, always fluid. You dispose of another Rabid before blocking another sword swing.

With a growl, you push your weight into the block, surging against the lead Rabid. It’s not a good swordsman, and though its reflexes are better than its wild counterparts, you shove the lead Rabid several feet away from you, tripping it up and sending it careening. You can’t take the opportunity to finish it off as the non-intelligent Rabids press in. Thankfully one gets too close and you cut through its neck.

Something zings past your head, hitting one of the remaining creatures in the throat. It cuts through easily, the body and head falling in separate directions. You turn around to see Jeonghan on the stairs, silver shurikens flashing in his hands.

“Your friend has a sword,” he calls, looking at the intelligent Rabid and pointing. “How did it get a sword?”

“Let me ask,” you call back. Some of the Rabids slink toward your brother, splitting up to fight both threats. “Hey, where did you get the sword?”

The lead Rabid doesn’t answer. “He didn’t say!” you shout back to Jeonghan over your shoulder. “Should I ask in Lilin or-”

The lead Rabid cuts you off as it attacks, swinging blindingly fast, grunting as it does. It manages to strike your ribcage, sword too dull to pierce skin but you feel the rupture of blinding pain as it breaks your ribs. A wild shriek of rage escapes your throat as you stumble away from it, gasping.

Breathing hurts, the stabbing ache stunning you for a second. The Rabid seems to be satisfied - if they can feel at all - and it enrages you. Better creatures and fighters have never landed a blow on you, and a thoughtless creature catching you off guard is…

Shameful.

If this were another time, you’d have been beaten for this kind of embarrassment. Letting a less skilled opponent get the jump on you because you were joking is unacceptable. The shame quickly gives way to anger. Anger gives way to wrath. Your shaking hands still suddenly, and you feel your rage center your focus to a needle-thin point.

You’re no longer in the middle of the street fighting a nest of Rabids. Now, you’re in the cold undertow of something you try to never let out, that you try to keep buried down deep within you.

Kill kill kill.

Metal meets metal. You barely remember lifting your sword to attack, slamming your weapon down into the lead Rabid’s sword so hard that the beast makes a sound of surprise, dancing away from you a few feet. You stride toward it, undeterred, a vice grip on your weapon as you stalk forward.

Kill kill kill.

Another blow sends your opponent's sword flying. You don’t follow through with your weapon. Instead, you punch forward with your free hand, barely feeling the crack of bone against bone. You break through muscle and sinew, feel the scrape of ribs as your fist bursts through the lead Rabid’s chest.

Its heart only pulses for a moment in your hand, throbbing faster than your own heartbeat. The lead Rabid doesn’t move, body frozen as the source needed to pump its blood is suddenly gone. It dies on your arm, the deadweight pulling your limb down as you slide it off of you.

Kill kill kill.

You turn and see Jeonghan fighting admirably despite being outnumbered. You prowl toward the Rabids, hissing and drawing the attention of the ones closest to you as you go.

You hate them. You want to destroy them. You want to win and kill and-

One leaps at you and you cleave downward. It isn’t an elegant swing, but it’s efficient and strong. Blood wets your skin and you swing again, hearing metal meet flesh. A high-pitched whining rings in your ears. You taste ichor in your mouth but you don’t care, sliding to a knee as you cut through the leg of a Rabid. It goes down and you follow through with the neck.

Kill kill kill.

You hack through its neck again. And again and again and again.

Suddenly the Rabid isn’t a Rabid. It’s a cherub face with red painted lips and sleepy, green eyes. It’s apple cheekbones and pearly fangs. It’s silky auburn hair and the smell of sugar and vanilla.

Lilith.

You hack again and again and again.

Kill kill kill.

If you don’t kill her, she’ll own you forever. It has to be permanent, but making it permanent is so hard. Her command to spare her burns through you, liquid hell in your veins as she says your name, over and over and over, trying to grip your thoughts and -

Someone shouts your name.

The memory fades. You aren’t killing Lilith and you aren’t in the palace of the Undercity. You’re not a scared little dhampir trying to claw her way free from mind control. But you are covered in blood and your thoughts are a little hazy as you look up, dazed.

Jeonghan stands a few feet away from you. Right. Jeonghan. Jeonghan is here with you and you are helping him retrieve something from a Rabid nest. You’re not there, you are here. Above ground. And Lilith’s dead.

“Get up,” Jeonghan mutters through clenched teeth. For a second, you think he’s disgusted with you. That he’s realized how deep your inability to control your fear and memories goes. Then he flicks his eyes toward the city. “The West End guard is here.”

When you turn toward the city, shocked, you realize Jeonghan is right. Members of the city guard loyal to the Chwe family step into the ring of carnage, all six of them quiet and poised. The one at the point is tall and broad, dark hair swept neatly out of his tan face, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. You’d think he was handsome if didn’t look like he was going to kill you.

“Well,” the guard chuckles. “Looks like this Rabid frenzied and killed the rest of them before we got here. That makes this easy.”

It takes a moment for his words to register. To lock in what he means. Rabid. They think you’re a Rabid.

“I’m-” your voice is raw and broken. You heave in air and then gasp when it feels like a knife has slipped between your ribs, remembering they’re broken. You immediately fall into a triage routine, regulating your breathing to ensure none of your breaths are too deep or too often. “Not Rabid.”

The guard at the front unsheathes his sword. It’s beautifully made, and you see the Chwe family crest glint on the hilt. “I know a Rabid when I see one.”

“Really, Mingyu?” a new voice asks, deep and soft. “Have you ever heard a Rabid speak? Then again, they’re apparently wielding swords.”

A man steps around the guard - Mingyu - and looks you up and down. He’s made up of midnight - dark hair, darker eyes, dark presence, though his skin is smooth and pale as the moon. His mouth quirks to the side and he tilts his head, watching you with mild interest. A lock of dark hair falls into his eyes.

He’s beautiful. It’s your first thought and you immediately hate him for it. Vampires that look like him know what they look like, and they use it to their full advantage. The Undercity was swimming with ethereal faces and diabolical desires.

“Dhampirs,” the pretty one muses. “Huh. How fascinating.”

“A dhampir?” Mingyu asks again, face scrunched up and unsure.

“Use that big nose of yours,” one of the other guards taunts Mingyu. “You can smell the blood.”

“Shut up, Chan. I can’t smell anything but that fucking awful cologne you wear.”

“My cologne is not awful!”

The pretty vampire glances at his bickering guards and then back to you. “You’ll have to excuse the manners.” His eyes dart to your chest and he looks puzzled. “Your heart is beating too fast for a dhampir. Perhaps you are infected.”

“She’s broken a fair few of her ribs and her wrist.” You look up in surprise, almost having forgotten Jeognhan was there. He is stone still, face unreadable as his gaze darts back and forth between them all. “She also just killed about eight of those things - bit of an adrenaline junky, this one. I’d like to take her to a blood bank to assist with her healing process, if I may, My Lord.”

He would? How Not-Jeonghan of him. Your realization of him using my lord is delayed, the word choice hitting you as the pretty vampire waves his hand. “We’ve got blood; we can treat her. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask some questions about… well, this. The offer for treatment is contingent that neither of you are infected, of course.”

Jeonghan’s expression is tight but he bows his head, posture stiff. “Your timing is auspicious and your kindness a welcome gift. You have our most eternal gratitude. We would be happy to answer questions, Lord Chwe.”

“Vernon,” the vampire says, gaze flickering back to you and darkening a little. “You can call me Vernon.”

TAG LIST:

@hipsdofangirl @jacixbliss @chronicfic @jespecially @asyre @todorokiskitten

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theyanderespecialist · 6 months

Video

youtube

Yandere Eyeless Jack X Listener (Creepypasta)

Base Yandere Eyeless Jack Headcanons: Eldritch Darling

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am here with a new update and this one is base headcanons and traits of Eyeless Jack from Creepypastas. Though it is a bit of every type of Eyeless Jack and some of my own headcanons and traits for a yandere version of him. I hope you enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: Eyeless Jack is not yandere in canon. This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all. Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine. Just do not be illegal or gross about it. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! Yanderes and ANYONE LIKE Creepypastas are not ideal partners to have in real life. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon and canon!)

(Base Yandere Headcanons With Eyeless Jack From Creepypasta)

.Eyeless Jack was once a 19-year-old young man.

.He was sacrificed by a cult to a demon and it failed.

.His eyes were removed and tar and blood were poured into the sockets.

.It failed and accidentally turned him into an eldritch kidney-eating monster.

.He is immortal and lives his life with his new powers and cravings.

.His retractable claws are so sharp they can cut through muscle and arteries. They also numb the skin as they do so.

.HE has sharp teeth that can bite into his kidneys with ease for him to eat.

.He has never left any evidence and never has been caught.

.That was until he met you.

.He was after your roommate and in her room, cutting into her and removing her kidney. He places it in the cooler and then hears you.

.You had worked a long shift as a volunteer at the hospital. You go to check on your roommate.

.He was ready to kill you until his eyes landed on you.

.The shock and horror on your face made him feel something he had never felt.

.He was stunned that you were able to get away screaming for help then he had to make an escape.

.He escaped, but he could not stop thinking about you.

.You were the person that he could not get his mind off of it was driving him CRAZY(er)

.He NEEDED to see you again.

.So he crept into your home, your roommate was in the hospital and you were passed out.

.He watched you as you slept, you looked so innocent and biteable. He knew he needed to have you just one little bite.

.This becomes a nightly thing for Eyeless Jack, breaking into your home and watching you sleep, his mouth watering just looking at you.

.Eyeless Jack is absolutely an unstable type of yandere at least with his feelings for you.

.He is still very very skilled at not getting caught or leaving evidence.

.Eventually just watching you at night is not enough for him, he needs more.

.So he would start to leave kidneys for you, in a sick twisted way of courting you.

.Along with the kidneys are the bloody notes.

.He realizes you do not seem to like kidneys, okay he can do better.

.So he will follow you and any man you talked to would be a victim losing a vital organ and that vital organ being left for you.

.With rivals though he always takes their hearts.

.After torturing them of course, he wants to make them suffer painfully before removing their hearts.

.Once their hearts are removed they are left for you.

.You would be losing your mind and finally, he sees you going on a date. Sees you kissing this date.

.He does not waste a single second and rushes there shoving his hand into the man's back while kissing you and ripping their heart out their back.

.Blood on your face and in your mouth and your date hitting the floor.

.He would then throw you over his shoulder and take you back to the mansion.

.Where he will force you to eat the heart.

.After that he confesses his love to you.

.If you accept his love (Most likely due to fear) he is over the moon and kisses you blood smearing between your lips.

.If you say no? (Which btw totally justified) He is angry and knocks you out.

.He will train you to love him, you will love him. Mark his words.

.In the end, he will have you love him and make you immortal.

.You will be his sweet little Eldritch darling~

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

#youtube #yandere #yandere eyeless jack #yandere creepypasta #yandere headcanons #headcanons #creepypasta #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x listener #listener #eyeless jack x reader #reader

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wazzappp · 3 months

Text

Alright whose ready to see my lose my mind over continually more ridiculous au ideas? Trick question your gonna see it happen anyway (I have. so much bullshit. i have an entire other au that I havent posted about yet and i am thinking. about the re7 au again brother. I have fallen into the pits don't come save me or I'll drag you down too).

also jesus FUCK @moosemonstrous coming in clutch again with both star wars knowlege and the ability to actually remember things beyond a day and a half of talking about them THANK YOU.

STAR WARS AU

The Jedi originally came to Tatooine looking for Gabe. Sensing his strength with the light side of the force they thought he would be a prime candidate for training. Unfortunately for them, Robbie and Gabe are a package deal. They begrudgingly allowed him to come along as well because he is also force sensitive, but a little older than they would usually let in for training. Robbie agrees to because 1. if he just says no who KNOWS if they'll just take Gabe away forcefully and 2. STEADY FOOD SOURCE. ROOF OVER THEIR HEADS. ADAQUATE MEDICAL CARE. NO MORE FUCKING SAND. He doesen't trust these people as far as he can throw them but FUCK anything must be better than here.

During a sparring session another padawan purposefully infuriates Robbie, causing him to reach out to the dark side. He nearly kills the other padawan with the strength of his outburst. It then becomes EXTREMELY EVIDENT that Robbie is VERY strong with the dark side of the force. As a result of this outburst, one of his eyes gets the usual 'sith look', he gets special training to try and suppress those feelings, and he gets permanent pariah status in the Jedi Temple (I have. plans. i am being vague on purpose because FUCK I want to draw this scene in my head so bad but I also want to get this out to yall in the same month so it will be coming later. my dramatic bitch syndrome demands it).

After the clone wars get started (he's around 16 at this point) the Jedi realize that they need more people to fight. Robbie, though being previously disqualified for his history, is accepted for training and assigned Jedi Knight Johnny Blaze as a master.

Unfortunately, along the way Johnny starts picking up more solo missions and eventually disappears about 6 months in and everyone thinks he's defected (he's spying on the sepratist's for the republic). Which MEGA sucks for Robbie because 'holy shit the unstable padawans master defected' is getting thrown around and thats really not great. He wanders off deep into the temple where he can hopefully find a place to throw his feelings around in peace and stumbles into the artifact room, which opened in response to sensing the dark side. Bad news, you cant use the same method to get out.

Even MORE unfortunately one of these sith artifacts starts talking to him. After telling him how to get tf out of the vault and convincing Robbie that things are about to get bad ('I FELT what you could to out there kid do you REALLY think they're gonna let you stay? You gotta get out of here. And if you take me with you I can guide us to a ship they can't trace')

So Robbie sets out to run away, fully planning on taking Gabe with him and gets second thoughts while packing to which Gabe goes 'fuck that were GOING' (he's like. 11. But he'll be damned if Robbie goes somewhere and leaves him who knows how long). While escaping via unauthorized ship takeoff, Elis holocron makes it look like Robbie has fully gone to the dark side and there are clones sent to stop him.

Robbie responds by using the force to throw another ship at them and escapes with Gabe. Now they're both on the run. Robbie wanted by the jedi council for kidnapping, and Gabe wanted back to complete his training.

Eli died as a dark side user and a wannabe Sith. He never really graduated into full sithhood and spent most of his time working for Senator Ivanov and his dealings in Hutt space. He was OBSESSED with the prospect of immortality and sought ways to survive even after death.

When he was used as a scapegoat by Ivanov (he reported Eli to the Jedi council to make him look a little less suspicious), his back up plan of imbuing a holocron with his force presence was put into use. He's been sitting gathering dust in a vault of darksided relics for the past 10 years, just waiting for his chance to get out.

Gabe is an EXCEPTIONAL student in the Jedi temple. He enjoys learning about the force and how to use it, and for the most part gets along with his peers. His mobility aid has been improved since Robbie first built it for him out of scraps he was allowed to take from working on ships on Tatooine. Some days are still better than others, and there are times when a wheelchair is more appropriate, but generally the braces are good for daily use.

He is VERY defensive of his brother and absolutely will not hear a bad word said about him (many bad words are said about him. everyone things Gabe is incredibly sweet, but also to blinded by his love for his brother to see that he poses a threat). It very much so does frustrate him, he's just better at dealing with those feelings then Robbie is.

Anakin gets his fun force choking so I think that Robbie should get something fun and funky and special too so enter: JAW BREAK!! Yes it is very ring inspired but I wanted to make it MORE. So fuck it he rips the whole jaw off its hinges I think this would also probably kill you very dead.

Plus some doodles because brainrot brainrot brainrot brainrot

#ghost rider star wars au #FUCK. WORDS NOT WORDING WELL TODAY. THIS COULD BE BETTER IM SORRY #THIS IDEA MAKES ME UNWELL IM GONNA POST MORE ABOUT IT #AAAAGAGGHHHHHHH #AAAGH #ghost rider #robbie reyes #gabe reyes #eli morrow #my art #sketch

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paprotkarotka · 1 year

Text

A letter to a dead friend.

Dear friend,

In the face of recent events, I decided to visit home, meaning the exact place I was born. Curiosity got the best of me, even though I know such reminiscences very rarely end well for me, as I tend to fall into a spiral of overthinking.

But can you blame me, at my ripe age, for nostalgia? As a human, I am doomed to commit the same mistakes without learning until it bites me in the ass.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover a meadow with an orchard where my house once stood. (Or at least where I think it stood.) I expected more urban development in the place, not a bunch of apple trees and a sea of grass, but I am not complaining. It's nice to rest my ancient bones in the shadow of an apple tree once in a while.

It is a strangely unbothered patch of land, which didn’t help with the nostalgia. It felt familiar. It lingered on the verge of my memories, almost tangible, but not quite. So close, yet too far away to reach. I thought I would feel better and that my visit would soothe my pain and longing for comfort and home. But it left me even more broken and regretful.

With all that lingering familiarity, it felt strangely cold and foreign. Surreal even. At first, I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what bothered me so much. And then it hit me. The feeling of belonging was gone. I have simply forgotten all of it—the people that used to live here, their daily problems and squabbles, and myself in the middle of that. I forgot what I was doing here, hence the strange feeling of a loss. I just couldn’t remember myself in this place. As if I've never been here.

I'm old. I'm very, very old. And I keep forgetting more and more details from my past. Every memory I lose devastates me to the core. I don't remember my mother's, Eleanor's, or Peggy's faces. It's all jumbled and smudged in my memory. It's like I'm in a fog, which grows thicker as I stumble through it. I don't even remember my mother's voice or her sweet lullaby that I used to hum all the time. To keep myself from forgetting. But it happened eventually.

But that doesn't scare me the most; what scares me the most is that I don't recognise the world I once called home. It's all familiar, but I don't have the feeling of belonging. I don't feel alienated, just... alien. Immortality is the best thing that could have happened to me, but human memory is limited. I'm doomed to live forever... And forget. And what are we if not memories? This is what makes me "me". I'm not even sure my real name is Robert at this point. I just remember using it, but since when? Who knows. Am I even the same person now? Or maybe I forgot completely who I was and turned into a stranger. Will I remember this in a thousand years? Five thousand? Those questions scare me. I am scared to lose myself.

I am afraid, dear friend, that I will forget you too, one day. I will fight tooth and nail not to, but as experience has taught me, it will happen eventually. It saddens me deeply, and I know thinking about it is senseless now, but I cannot help it, as from everything I’ve experienced and everyone I’ve met, you’re the one I wish to remember most, for as long as I can.

Dear friend, this letter might never reach you, but if it does, keep in mind that I will be waiting for you for as long as it takes and for as long as I remember. I will be there, anticipating our meetings, until I grow so old that you will have to remind me of what I am waiting for. Promise me that.

Your friend,

Robert

Big shoutout to my friend who not only checked the letter for me, but also did a recording if it, check it out please: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUKTmfK_Sz0

youtube

#the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman fanart #ferdinand kingsley #sandman #tom sturridge #my art #paprotkaart

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nartothelar · 10 months

Note

I'm one of the anons in that vampire au post. (I know that's easy to say)

I want you to know how much this made me cry and feel for these two.

You really could feel the Ingo's emotions. The grief of losing the people of Hisui, the fear of eventually losing Emmet as well. His frustration with everything. So good! And Emmet being calm, collected and true to himself. (I'm tearing up again just trying to give you a small comment) Also the slow reveal that Emmet is now looking much older than his brother was done so well and the emphasis on how happy his life has been really drives his point a lot. The surprise artwork in the middle of your fic is also so so good.

This is more than I had expected when I pressed ask a few weeks back and I am so impressed by this. Bravo. Truly super bravo!

Your writing style is so incredibly good! Really hoping to see more written from you in the future (only if you want that is)

SKSK THANK YOU!! I'm really glad you enjoyed my little drabble sksks I really really like the idea about immortality and its affect in the long run. Ingo has lost too many people whom he cares about to simply let Emmet age and eventually die without saying anything.

A lot of people brought up the idea that, if Emmet were in a situation where his life was in danger, something much less peaceful that dying of old age, if Ingo, fueled by desperation and fear of losing him, would take matter into his own hands to save him and turn him. Which I can totally see.

But I also think that Ingo knows Emmet, knows that his brother has made his decision and will not change his mind. And that means, as someone who loves and respects his brother, has to respect that decision.

He wouldn't forgive himself if he betrayed that trust, which makes this all the more frustrating for him, who already had to outlive a whole clan of people that he knew and loved and cared about. and now he had to go through that again? That grief and pain and fear had been festering inside for the longest time and it's something that no talks or reassurances will really disperse...

But on a less serious note, this was my first fic I wrote since going into this fandom and it was verrrry fun! Writing felt rusty but it was enjoyable nonetheless! ^w^

#its a hard situation to be in #to make yourself let go when you have the ability and the means to save the ones you love #vampire ingo #vampire au #ask

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muzzleroars · 11 months

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Dude i am so fucking insane about your art its genuinely the main reason i made a tumblr account. also. Do you think v1 will ever break down in gabriel’s lifetime? I keep considering the idea after reading this fic where gabriel came across him half-buried in the sands of greed

omggg thank you so much!!! it sincerely means a lot ;o;

in my idea of events with the fallen gabe au, gabriel would likely still be able to continue for a long, long time, though perhaps not indefinitely necessarily. no matter what, his lifespan is still long enough to see the breakdown of v1's parts, which can only be mitigated by blood for a time. the process starts to become less effective, its body not healing properly and beginning to give in to the passage of time besides - plus, its mind isn't protected from these things either, code becoming overgrown and the hardware itself so delicate that it would inevitably fail. everything on earth has an end point, flesh and machine bodies breaking down in the same way being made from elements just held together in natural processes and so eventually rent by them.

(some mentions of mental deterioration/death under the read more)

gabriel would do regular maintenance on it, but they would both see when it was becoming more and more frequent, how v1 is slowing down physically and mentally. the body can be repaired almost indefinitely, especially if gabriel delved into metalworking, plastics, robotics - becoming a one-man factory creating bespoke parts with v1's assistance is hardly out of the question for a fallen angel. the problem is truly its computer, which isn't so easily stabilized and replaced, especially when it comes to preserving v1's memories and personality. they could keep its body in perfect working order if they can custom create any piece it needs (especially again if we go with paradise lost's idea that hell is rich in a wealth of all earthly minerals), but increasingly catastrophic software failures are harder to deal with. they would plan for it of course, figuring out the solutions they can try ahead of time, but when the time comes...watching v1 flicker, seeing its movements falter with newly repaired parts, the absolute heartwrenching, ice-cold fear of it shutting down unexpectedly and not waking up for hours, days....how it forgets, how it can't store many new memories, gabriel feels the deep, aching horror an immortal must when they truly understand what they love cannot last. intellectually it was always there, but to see it unfold, to be there now...gabriel's eyes finally freeze over with tears, v1 has nowhere to go, no soul to find heaven or hell or be reborn the way he was. it will just go dark. gabriel will see it, its perfect body that they've made and remade over so many decades or centuries, that he put all his love into preserving, but with no will to move it.

and i just don't think he could take it.

PERSONALLY my favorite wild headcanon for this scenario is gabriel storming heaven or going to find wherever god left his dead body and using that blood to revive v1 (that blood stays fresh forever.... guess lol) i'm just too much of a baby to commit to character death, plus i just really love the idea of everyone being like "where did god go....nobody knows...." until gabriel loses his mind and breaks every single law of heaven and hell without any limits to bring back his itty bitty bot!!!!!

#alternatively gabriel could augment v1 with hell energy in some way #but i just like the solution being fully unhinged lol #WHAT the implications might be after that....who can say....#and also.....the fic sounds VERY interesting so if you still have the link send it my way!!!#i can't do character death but i can read it to make myself sad lol #cake answers #gabriel #v1

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deathmetalangel · 1 year

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Hey there!

I saw in your list of characters that you write for Coraline, I haven't seen anyone writing for her, so I'm gonna request something for my beloved girl if that's okay.

Okay, So, What about a lil fic (or One-Shot, you name it) or some Headcanons, about her falling in love for a fem!reader her age living in the pink palace? And so, when she goes to the other world there is an "other" (y/n) who tells her this when they meet "what are ya doing here Coraline?? The other me will be so worried! She'll think you leaved her forever! Just like her other friends did!"

THE OTHER ME (CORALINE X FEM! READER)

warnings: mentions of abandonment, not really anything major

there’s more to the girl coraline learns to love that she initially thought.

i’m so glad you request this!! i love coraline and it is a shame no one writes for her :/ also i hope you don’t mind if i added one small part, reader is mentioned to be immortal or at least never aging, but i added it for good reason. trust me it makes it a lot better then when i wrote this originally

Y/n sits down in the grass waiting for Coraline. She'd grown close with the blue haired girl over the time she had been here. It was hard for her to grow close to anyone after losing so many people, but she had faith in Coraline. The Beldam would be no match for her Coraline. Maybe she'd even set her other self free. It was only a matter of time until the other mother got sick of the doll's disobedience and eventually destroyed her and reused her parts.

Maybe then she wouldn't feel so empty inside. It was like apart of her was missing, and in ways it was. A part of her soul was borrowed by the other mother and was used to entice her friends and kill them, stealing their eyes and making her stronger. As long as that part of her was in the other world she was unable to grow old. She would only be free when that part of her was let go.

Y/n continues to wait for the girl. Where was she? When Coraline makes a promise she sticks to it. Y/n plays with her fingers anxiously, what if something bad happened to her.

Coraline was so excited to see everything in the other world. She hadn't even went to bed. "Oh Coraline! Y/n is here for you! She wants to take you and Wybie to see Mr. Bobinsky's circus! Isn't that fun." The Beldam smiles at her 'daughter'. Coraline was easier to manipulate than anticipating. The Beldam was thankful for those parents of hers.

"Oh y/n's here! Sweet!" The other mother nods and opens the door fully to show the two preteens standing outside. Wybie smiles at Coraline and y/n waves softly. "Oh Wybie"

"Don't worry dear this is other Wybie. You'll find he's a bit less talkative then real Wybie." Coraline sighs but goes with the two anyways. She waves goodbye to her other mother and happily skips off. Y/n stays behind for a few seconds. She looks at the Beldam expectantly.

The Beldam sighs. "Get along now y/n. Face it, you've lost. Maybe after this I'll finally let you grow old and die. A shame you won't see your friends when you're dead." The other y/n lowers her head slightly before the Beldam yells at her to go.

Y/n follows Coraline upstairs. Right when she tries to enter y/n grabs her arm. Wybie stands there knowing what was happening. Even as one of her tools he never really listened to the Beldam. It was like he knew what was her plan as well. "Wha, what's going on y/n. Don't you want to see the circus again?"

"What are you doing here Coraline?" Y/n speaks softly so Bobinsky can't hear from inside and report to the Beldam.

Coraline giggles. "I'm hanging out with you. What do you mean?"

Y/n remains still. The buttons in her eyes doing little to reflect her emotions. "No, Coraline what are you doing here. The other me will miss you if you're gone for too long. She gets scared when she doesn't see you."

"What? What do you mean y/n."

"Please go home Coraline. She'll think you abandoned her like her other friends did. She hates being left forever. I don't think she can handle that again."

Coraline looks to Wybie whose smile has now fallen. He looks around awkwardly before nodding at Coraline. "She loves you, don't do this to her."

Y/n sighs and gets up from the dewey grass. Coraline wasn't coming after all. Maybe it was time she just went home. It was dumb of her to think Coraline was different from her friends. Maybe her love for the girl just made her hope for something that was impossible to avoid.

#deathmetalangel #coraline #coraline jones #other wybie #wybie lovat #coraline x reader #coraline imagine #coraline other mother #the beldam

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just-1other-nerd · 5 months

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While writing another meta, I looked up some clips and noticed something else that deserves a post: notice how Crowley says "but that's nothing" about 6000 years? And you might think, yeah, he's a celestial being and kinda immortal, so im the grand scheme of his life this will feel like nothing, and this is proven by him taking century long naps. But I came to the conclusion that those 6000 years aren't nothing, especially not to Crowley, instead they're everything.

I think that the passing of time in Heaven and Hell works the same way that it does on earth. Like, you know those stories where it's like character has entered this world their time there has felt like 5 years to them but in their world 500 years went by. And it would make sense for Heaven and Hell to function like this, like every time they're down on earth, their brains work faster to comprehend the earth in a human way and actually be able to interact with humans. (Whacky comparison, but like for us to communicate with a fly, we would have to get faster than we are now, otherwise it would seem to the fly like we're doing things in slow motion.) And it would have been easy to make that the rules, be faster while you're on earth to operate on a level earthly creatures can comprehend and understand but back when you're in Heaven/Hell your brain is back in celestial mode where you everything the humans do seems to happen in time laps so that they seem like ants. That would result in something like what feels like a second in Heaven/Hell is a year on earth.

But no, things in Heaven/Hell seem to happen in real time. The duration of Crowley infiltrating Heaven felt the same as the duration of the bookshop battle, and there are many more examples of this. But that means that celestial brains don't process time in a "6000 years really feel like nothing, like they pass in the blink of an eye" way but rather in a "in the grand scheme of my immortal life 6000 years will eventually lose meaning because looking back they will just seem like another short-lived episode of my life even though they didn't feel like that while I was experiencing them" way, you know like a human turned immortal.

This is important because that means that Crowley and Aziraphale experienced the passing of time in those 6000 years in a very human way, always kept in mind that they'll outlive everything around them but years that aren't slept through will still feel like years.

To have that much time means that you plan your life differently, like the next time the ineffable husbands will meet may be in two decades and looking back on a span of 6000 years that may not seem long but it will feel long, I mean in his diary entry after Edinburgh Aziraphale describes the 35 years he wouldn't see Crowley after that as a long time. But to have so much time also means that you have a lot of time questioning things, and it means that things will lose their meaning because oftentimes our own fatality gives things meaning, but if you've got forever maybe nothing will feel like it's got any purpose. And I think that this is where Crowley is mentally in the beginning of season two (see bench scene with Shax), because now that Armageddon, which was a form of fatality for Crowley and Aziraphale's way of life, has been prevented and he's out of constant survival mode because he no longer has to go along with Hell, he has to find meaning detatched from Heaven and Hell. And I believe he will ultimately realise that he already found it in humanity and in Aziraphale.

There are lots of brilliant metas discussing how Aziraphale and Crowley are more human than celestial and how their love is very human and how they love earth and humanity. And I think that living amongst humans who live so much shorter than they do and who experience so much more with so much more emotion really has given them a perspective that the other celestial beings lack. And loving earth and each other has also given them a perspective that other angels and demons don't have. Despite experiencing time the same way as Aziraphale and Crowley do, the other celestial beings don't have any attachment to those 6000 years because they are stuck in their respective corporate environments which don't spread any joy and it shows. They are stuck in their "great plan thinking" where they work towards the war between Heaven and Hell and know that they have to endure those 6000 years for the eternity that comes after. Looking back, all of those days will feel the same and blend in with one another (like all of our lockdown days) because nothing good nor bad happened. And that lack of experience is what will make it feel short looking back on it. Maybe if they hadn't spent those 6000 years like that, they wouldn't want to get rid of everything that has to do with those years. Meanwhile, Crowley and Aziraphale, who have experienced so much, will look back and see thousands of things that have happened, that they've witnessed and that they enjoyed, that's what makes it feel long.

Those 6000 years, despite being a short span for an immortal being, are everything because they are time spent with the humans they loves so much, and the person they adore, this love has given those years meaning, and meaning is something that the time in Heaven and Hell never had.

#I'm writing metas as a therapeutic coping mechanism so you can guess that my mental state isn't great right now #so this probably doesn't make as much sense as I'd like it to but it helps me #good omens #good omens meta #GOS2Spoilers #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #immortality

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pemberlyprose · 6 months

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Mycelium and Mexican Gothic

While sitting and listening to music, I got thinking about Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. Over the past few days, I have been ruminating on what I'd like to write about regarding this story and how it has affected me. Typically, my process for writing essays, formal or informal, involves a lot of black tea and annotating. Today, inspired by Hozier and Noah Khan, I want to have a brief interpretation/contemplation of a single topic instead: mushrooms being a metaphor for toxic family dynamics in Mexican Gothic.

SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THIS NOVEL!

(Also, this is highly summarized because I am a creature fueled by caffeine and chaos and can't be bothered right now. Please forgive any errors).

Taking place in the isolated mountains of Mexico's countryside, Mexican Gothic points a crooked and mishappen finger at the horrors lying beneath the Doyle family's history and home. Noemi, the protagonist of the story, arrives to the Doyles' house to call into question the care of her cousin, Catalina, who has been sending frantic and incoherent letters about voices and apparitions since moving into her English husband's home. As Noemi spends time with the Doyle family, and her cousin, she begins to unravel more of their secrets. Eventually she becomes so deeply involved that, before she knows it, she is taken prisoner.

Now there is a patriarchal element to this novel that I find fascinating. The Doyles' are made immortal by becoming hosts for "The Gloom" a conscious mushroom network that has inhabited thier bodies, home, and minds for centuries. The Gloom controls the house and thier minds, but it is Howard Doyle, the patriarchal figure, who physically and spiritually controls his family. God-like in power, he has been ingesting these mushrooms for hundreds of years. So, to maintain his power, and in return for making his family immortal, they must give up thier lives, bodies, and offspring to him when necessary for the most henious reasons.

Like a snake, he stays alive by sliding from body to body, consciousness to consciousness, and he cannot be stopped. Meanwhile, those he takes over are completely erased from existence or thier consciousness remains trapped in The Gloom. They become an echo... A phantom in the house they have lived and died in for the rest of time. All in the name of tradition and family.

This is a great allegory of how family, tradition, and generational trauma can affect the living. Our bodies store memories from hundreds of years ago, and whether we know it or not, feel it or not, our family members have weaved their genetic memories into our bodies. We are a mycelium of memories. It is in our blood and stretches out to those joining our families and learning our customs.

Of course, at least I hope, most of the time this is not in a creepy The Last of Us kind of way, but in a loving and grounding ancestral kind of way. I believe there is always more good than bad. However, regardless of patriarchal or matriarchal themes, this novel does an excellent job of illuminating the expectations children feel pressured to meet (in the most extreme way) to please/satiate a parental or authority figure. It's also an incredibly creepy and interesting way to examine the lengths families, even unrelated groups of people, will go to preserve a way of life. Even when it goes against everything they stand for morally and physically.

I also wondered to myself, why mushrooms? Lately in popular culture we are seeing a rise of mushroom media, and although humankind has always had a certain reverence for them, this novel along with shows like The Last of Us call into question where this circulated fear of being taken over by mushrooms comes from. I don't have an answer for this, but it is a dynamic question to contemplate.

Why do we fear being taken over by nature? Is it our physical minds we fear losing, or our autonomy in the abstract? Would we even notice it was happening, or would we find out too late like Noemi in Mexican Gothic? Could we escape even after we were captured?

I don't know. But what I do know is if any of these themes strike your fancy check out this brilliant novel. It truly had me on the edge of my seat all night.

**If you are interested in this story, please note that it is a gothic novel and has many triggering themes surrounding gore, sexual content, and horror. Always do research before reading if you are unsure :) Stay safe out there.

#dark academia #books & libraries #literature #words #books #mexican gothic #Silva Moreno-Garcia

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monstaxdirtywonk · 1 year

Text

Heaven is a place in hell with you pt. 6

Member: San as Hades X Persephone reader

Plot: it is loosely inspired from the myth but with some changes to fit what I had in mind

Genre: Fluff, Angst, eventual smut

It's been two weeks. Two long weeks without hearing from you. He was growing impatient but for the most part he was worried. What if you said something to Artemis and she couldn't control her rage. What if Artemis threw you out and you were wondering around the forest. But if that was the case, you'd surely come to him, right? Maybe Artemis tried to change your mind and she made it. Now he'd have to mourn his love for you that never had the chance to blossom for the rest of his life. That's an awfully long time. He doesn't have the luxury of death to make him forget about you.

Even Thanatos wasn't his usual bubbly self, sympathizing with his master after seeing that all the jokes he pulled weren't making the atmosphere lighter.

"You won't go for women hunting?" Hades asked noticing how his friend has been avoiding to leave his side for the last week.

"No I'm fine. I'm over it to be honest. It feels nice to flirt and stuff, but it gets repetitive after some time and you grow tired of it".

"I'd never grow tired of being with her. If anything I'm grateful I'm immortal so I'd have more time to be with her than mortals do."

Thanatos sighed. He wanted to say a white lie to make his master believe it's not such a big deal but Hades made his mind already about how crucial his love for you was.

"I'll be right back". Thanatos bluntly said and left through the now hated portal.

He had to check on you because his master was going insane and he couldn't sit there and watch. It didn't take him long to find the area of the forest in which nymphs lived.

Elpenike, an old flame of his, widen her eyes when she saw him.

"What are you doing here?" She said after running towards his side.

"We are dead if Artemis see you here".

"Well, that's my specialty" Thanatos smirked.

"You aren't funny." Elpenike deadpan.

Thanatos had to find a way to find you without specifically asking for you because this would cause suspicion. He was someone that always respected boundaries and never used his hypnotizing abilities to get what he wanted but there was no other way for that to happen. Thanatos' black eyes turned golden and he stared deep into the poor nymph's eyes. After seconds, her eyes matched his color wise and she was gonna obay him without a second thought.

"Where is Persephone?" He asked.

"She is in her room. She's been there for days due to her high fever".

"Get me to her".

Elpenike started walking and she stopped outside the third house Thanatos could see from where he was standing. He followed her suit and entered the room after taking a glimpse from the window to make sure Artemis wasn't inside.

When he opened the door, he saw you laying in bed and another nymph attending to your needs. You looked tired and a faint blush was adorning your cheeks, the result of your fever.

"Who are you?" The nymp asked, very clearly defensive but her stance was more dynamic than yours had been when you first met him.

"Thanatos..". You said when you saw him standing at the door step.

"Come in and close the door, I don't want anyone to see you here".

He did as he was told.

The nymp spoke again.

"Thanatos? Hades' side kick?"

"Yes" you replied.

"Hey! I'm not the side kick. I'm a whole main character actually".

You laughed at that. He did make a place in your heart at the end.

"What is it? Did something happen to Hades?"

Oh you were just as whipped. You, a fragile little human that was currently sick, felt worried over a powerful God's well being. Love is crazy indeed.

"He is fine physically. But he misses you a lot. He doesn't know I'm here but I wanted to check on you because he's been so worried he's gonna lose his mind".

You smiled and felt like tearing up after learning about Hades' caring feelings for you.

"I've been sick that's why he didn't hear any news from me yet. When I'm gonna feel better, I'll come visit him. No matter what my decision would be. Please tell him what I said"

Thanatos nodded.

"Does she know?" He gestured to your friend.

"I have a name actually...."

You laughed at Nefeli's hot temper, always ready to defend herself or others.

"She does. She is the only one that does."

"Ah. So I guess you are Persephone's side kick then". Thanatos looked at Nefeli in a playful and mischievous way.

"You said he was kind of annoying but that's annoying annoying and I've been in his presence for 10 minutes".

Thanatos gasped but you and Nefeli laughed.

"You told her I'm annoying?"

"I said just a little bit. In a cute way. Like little puppies".

Thanatos liked being compared to a puppy so he could let that slide.

"I'm gonna accept that because I'm cute indeed".

Nefeli side eyed him and you loved how funny those two were being. It made you escape your misery for a bit.

"I think you should go. It's late and Artemis might come to check on me. Please before you go, take this shawl with you. Give it to Hades".

Thanatos took the piece of cloth and he left in a hurry. He felt so relieved you were well, he did grow fond of you too. He couldn't wait to tell Hades the good news.

~~~

"She gave me this and said I should give it to you". Thanatos gave the shawl to his lord and Hades took it in his hand and a smile was formed on his handsome face.

"I'm so happy she is well! Is she very sick?" He asked worried.

"No she wasn't. She said she is feeling better already. She'll be back to you in no time, I'm sure".

Hades couldn't wait for that moment to come, till then he was gonna sleep holding your shawl.

Thanatos came closer and patted his lord's shoulder.

"I mean I've never been in love but I've heard that it helps when you share your feelings with someone else. Would you mind if you shared them with me?" He asked and took a seat without waiting for a response because he knew that Hades was gonna accept.

"You know how you can be seemingly so different with someone but deep down you are made from the same kind? I feel like we can relate on a deeper level, both restricted by our very own nature, trying to break away from it and find our deepest desires. But at the same time she reminds me about a part of me that I forgot about, the vulnerable one. There's nothing more scary, to the living or the dead, than being that. But it's like vulnerability is all she knows and she makes this typically powerless state, her greatest strength. Her pure intention too. There's so much drama in our world, but when I see her I feel like she doesn't hide anything from me. An open book, if you will. You know how much I love my books after all. I could go on for hours praising her. Even if Eros couldn't find me in the deepest parts of the world, I'd fall for her on my own. When we say falling in love it sounds a bit passive, but that's not how i feel. I'd actively choose her again and again."

Thanatos was positive at this point, his master was whipped. It was sweet and he was happy for him because he knew-although Hades never outwardly said it- that he wanted a companion, a love to call his, for a long time. But at the same time, he was worried. He knew of your position, and he knew it was a big decision to come to Hades and change your surroundings and friends for a life of darkness. It was such a big sacrifice that few were willing to take. He didn't know if you were among those. But he did wish you were, for Hades' sake.

Next chapter:

#ateez #ateez san #ateez smut #ateez san smut #ateez san fluff #ateez san angst #ateez san imagine

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animeyanderelover · 23 days

Note

If you write for twilight can u do general yandere headcanons for the Romanians pls

They didn't get the most screentime in the movies but I did my best.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, violence, death, sadism, abduction, isolation

Romanian Coven Hc's

Stefan

Vampires are powerful beings who stand on top of the food chain. Once upon a time, Stefan sat on a throne, a king who had everything he could ever ask for. He had power, control, obedience from all those around him and he had a mate. Then the Volturi came into existence though and in the long battle that followed, he went from riches to rags as everything his coven had built, was burnt to ashes until only Vladimir and him remained. Immortality can truly turn from a gift to a curse as he never got over the grief of losing his mate, the feeling of bereavement a familiar yet never healing sensation that he has been carrying around ever since that day. It is for that only understandable that he would only be quite possessive about the discovery that the soul of his beloved seems to have been reincarnated over a millenium later in your body as his own soul finally embraces the long forgotten feeling of peace once again when he is in your presence.

The loss of his mate has left nasty scars even after you have returned to him though and for that Stefan has gotten not only quite possessive but also quite protective. Very disillusioned about the fact that a harmless thing like you would most likely be better off never knowing about his existence and the world which is unknown to you, Stefan has never been a good person nor has he ever pretended to be one. Not even during his time of reign. Instead the time without his mate has poisoned him with vengeance and bitterness and for that he will not dare to waste any time nor will he play around for he has gotten another chance. Something which is so incredibly rare. He knows that if he were to wait any longer now that he knows of your existence, he would lose his mind. Whilst he obviously shows some lenience for the situation you only perceive as terrifying and overwhelming, he never truly feels sympathy for you.

Eternities he bemourned the loss of his mate only to find her reincarnation in you. He would never dare to lose you again. Not to death and neither to anyone else. Certainly you may have had other people you held very dear to your heart before your life took a drastic and frightening turn but you must know that those people will be forever gone now. A life with him means a life of isolation as he hoards you like the most valuable treasure in the entire world as you only ever know Stefan and his other coven member Vladimir from that day on. Your heart and your mind will eventually belong to him, he will eventually get back what he once had. This inevitably means that you will have to let go of any lingering feelings as Stefan is possessive. Human lives are fleeting. Beloved, you should not bemourn those who will all fade away whilst you will stay for eternity.

Vladimir and him have to be constantly on the move as otherwise the Volturi may track them down which is why they are very keen on avoiding other vampires and only seek out humans when they require food. Stefan wants to guarantee that your identity will remain a secret until a while longer though to keep you away from preying eyes of the Volturi who would most likely target you if they were to find out that Stefan has found a new mate. He is no fool as he knows that there is no way that you can be kept a secret forever but at least for a while it should be possible to not let anyone know of your significance to his own soul. He goes through great lengths to ensure that the time you are not known to other vampires remains as long as possible which is why Vladimir and him rip everyone mercilessly apart who may lay their red eyes on you as he won't take any risk with you around now.

The life him and Vladimir live truly is quite stressful for a mere human though as you never settle down and have to constantly hop from place to place to avoid being found by the Volturi. It is obvious that this is not a life for a human which is why Stefan would turn you relatively early into one of his kind after you have gotten over the biggest shock. Whether you still retain your beating heart or not though, you will never leave his side. Whilst you may possess greater strength when you are turned into a newborn, Vladimir and him not only have greater experience but also work excellently together as a team to keep you on a leash until you have gotten yourself under control again. Even if you may still consider leaving, Stefan would always remind you that your fate is with him as you would only experience anguish if you were to leave his side. Then there are also the Volturi and he can guarantee you that they would never let you live if they were to find out that you're mated to him.

Stefan is a truly old soul, one who has never mingled much with humans nor has he ever seen the need to adapt to their changing behavior and norms throughout history. You truly see his long life reflected in the way he talks and behaves around you. He greatly enjoys telling you stories of his days of glory back when his coven stood above everyone else as he even has the strength to tell you about his first mate now that he has you, although there still remains a dull pain in his heart when he recalls her. There is rarely a moment where he ever leaves you around as he does everything with you, seeking out the comfort of closeness he has been deprived of for a millenium. Vladimir, as someone who has also lost his mate, keeps out an eye for you as well to ensure your safety as well as your forever stay with Stefan.

Vladimir

Vladimir, just like Stefan, used to have a mate during his reign though. Yet it was his own underestimation of the powers of the Volturi that cost him his mate and it is a pain that he has never been able to overcome. The heavy sin of failure to protect his mate has a weight to it that would bring an ordinary vampire to the depths of insanity yet he has stocked all of the agony deep inside of him and channeled it into an ever-growing hatred for the Volturi. Yet he feels his soul soaring into the sky when he finds out about your intimate connection with him, one your human senses are unable to perceive to the same extent as he does. He feels a lightness that he hasn't experienced since he was disgraced and dragged down from his throne. Time is pressuring as both him and Stefan are forced to flee like rabbits from a pack of wolves yet he seems to savour the little time he has simply to admire you.

Vladimir is extremely obsessive as you are a reincarnation of his long lost love and there is a curiosity he feels about you and the life you have lived so far. He stalks you, he breaks into your house to take a better look at your life and Stefan scolds him for playing around as much as he does. Time is of essence and Vladimir is aware of that. He is every bit as possessive and protective as Stefan would be yet he is a bit more playful than his coven member is and a bit more obsessive as he isn't that quick to force you into adjusting to your new position and your new life as he instead allows you to express your own emotions as even your tears and your pained mind seem to enrapture him. It may come over as a tad bit sadistic but he has waited so long for this encounter with you that every reaction of yours would only ever make him more obsessed with you.

If Stefan is more pragmatic, Vladimir really seems to indulge just a bit more to experience every feeling of yours more and discover more about the person you are. That obvious fascination shouldn't be mistaken as lenience though as Vladimir is just as set on gaining your heart and your every thought as Stefan is. He is your rightful mate. He has the right to claim you and no one else will ever taste that same privilege as he does. He may not remind you laconically that you will probably never see the humans you loved again but it isn't wise to continue your grief either. Stefan warns you when you take it too far which allows you to not cross any lines but Vladimir is no such guy. If your sorrow goes on for too long and prevents him from getting what he desires most, he will take it by force as he is just as unapologetic as Stefan is.

There are little chances for a situation to escalate and perhaps that is for the best. The isolation leads to little interaction with anyone else who is also a vampire and for that there is no reason to eliminate any possible threat to your safety. There is no playfulness on him when it comes to your safety as one painful loss has already taught him that he should never underestimate anyone nor should he hold back. Whether he wants to admit it or not, in between the burning hatred he holds for the Volturi there is also a newly awakened feeling of fear that they will tear away his new mate from him and he knows that most vampires only kneel down in fear for them which is why he feels the need to exterminate every vampire who spots you with them. Just like Stefan, Vladimir knows that eventually your existence will be exposed but throughout your time as a human as well as a newborn, it is essential that you remain a secret so that you gain enough control and experience.

He can hear and smell how stressed you are and he for once understands why the life he lives isn't something a human should find themselves in. On the other hand he could never allow you to remain in your town as the distance would surely eat him silently alive. He would like to keep you as a human for a bit longer though as he finds you entertaining and awfully predictable with your beating heart that always gives away your feelings. There is such a joy he finds in observing you as you are right now that he would like to procrastinate your transformation just a bit more to savor the experience to have something he can remember fondly as soon as he has bitten you. Sharing the same need as Stefan to keep you constantly by his side, Vladimir becomes essentially your shadow who follows you around wherever you go and never lets you out of his sight.

He finds it very amusing to listen to you due to slangs you use as well as the stories you tell which remind him how far humanity has gotten ever since he has been turned into a vampire. He not only listens though as he chooses to engage in it a tad bit all in hopes of tickling you out of the scared shell you keep yourself inside when you are around him. He seems to enjoy tormenting you here and there solely to force you to leave that shell of yours for a moment and expose your true feelings to him. Despite that lively attitude of his, the trauma of having lost his previous mate to the Volturi is one that lingers and it is still apparent in the way he restricts you and hides you away even after he has turned you and you are capable of protecting yourself.

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