If you followed my main here, then you know what my mod tag is! This is my sideblog for my selfship with Reaper. I will answer asks about him on main if that is more comfortable for you, but I can answer them here too if people indulge my need to be organized. Mostly is going to contain reblogs, the occasional story (you get a cookie if you ask me to write something within the selfship), among other things! Information is below the divider, created by @pixopix.
Carrd can be found here.
ꜱᴇʟꜰꜱʜɪᴘ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Age gap (my s/i is 32, Reaper is 58 as of OW2); Reaper being possessive; lots of NSFW thoughts; situationship (there's lots "stress relief"); "it's complicated" (his wife thinks he's dead; obviously he isn't)
ʙʟᴏɢ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ: Respect. Don't come up in here talking mad shit or shaming my grown ass for liking the edgy, grumpy old man. I've been in fandoms and seen some shit longer than most censorship-obsessed folks have been alive in fandoms spaces. Other than that, let's have a chill time.
Ship tag is #love ain't it. Block it if you don't wanna see my blog or content. I will update if I come up with a better ship name.
Imagine your F/O leaving a trail of big, visible bite marks and bruises all over your neck and shoulders from their kisses, and refusing to let you wear a shirt that covers them up. They want everyone to see that they marked you.
I'm thinking about Gabriel's line when he eliminates an enemy Moira. The one where he says "No more experiments", which makes me think this:
Moira was still experimenting on him even after saving his life.
Not one of those experiments lessened the pain from his cells dying and regenerating at the hyper-rate they are (given by their interaction where Gabe ASKS Moira if she could do nothing for the pain. I think Moira can, she just doesn't want to, since her answer was for him to use the pain as a fire for his revenge).
It just lowkey makes me wanna square up with Moira ngl. My poor mans is in so much pain, no wonder he's the way he is.
⚠️selfship, age gap, silly shit, pumpkin!reaper, set in modern times but in a "the reaper appears every Halloween" vibe, probably a comedy if you squint, i like halloween and pumpkin!reaper amuses me, drabble kinda
There was a rumor that every Halloween, some headless horseman came for a hapless soul to collect. The legend supposedly came from some long-ago village where a witch created some servant called "The Reaper" and anyone who saw him was never heard from again.
At least, that's what Mariana heard. Because she was the weird one who was into the scary shit.
That was why her friends decided this Halloween to dare her to go into the infamous "haunted" house at the end of the street. Said house was decripit: its face was practically worn, wood aged by time and creaking with every step, windows shattered and the door barely functioning as a door. And Mariana, never refusing a dare (with the prize being candy especially), decided to show her friends she was hardly scared of an old house.
She sat in the middle of the old living room floor. The sofas was moth-eaten, the carpet torn, and there was an old painting that was just as torn as the rug. The cracked window was letting in the night air, making her shiver in her hoodie.
"Those Hershey Kisses better be a full bag when I finish this dare!" Mariana yelled out, not even sure if her friends could hear her. She glanced around, noticing so many odd things around. Lost hats, gloves, and...a baseball bat? Huh.
She scooted close to the bat, grabbing it to keep it close. Just because she liked scary things doesn't mean she was an idiot.
The wind seemed to howl now, getting louder with every second as it whistled through the the cracked glass. The already cold temperature seemed to have gotten even colder, bleeding through the fabric of her hoodie and Mariana shivered. The Halloween air was definitely getting to her.
The sudden sound of floorboards creaking gave her pause. Her grip on the bat tightened, dark brown eyes darting around. Everything in her was absolutely on high alert as the floorboards creaked once more, the sound disturbing the silence so sharply.
Mariana held her breath, her blood thundering in her ears that she almost feared something could hear it. The floorboards creaked rhythmically, surely beneath steps that were getting closer and closer...
Then a sound she never expected: the sound of a gun cocking.
Before she could even think about it, Mariana turned sharply, swinging the bat around and making contact with something that she knew went flying based on the loud thud against the nearest wall. Her senses were barely catching up to her, her brain trying to catch up with what she had just swung at.
A tall being, headless, dressed to the nines with a cape and...a strangely militant-like outfit. An orange light exuded from where the head would have been as the being had a shotgun pointed right at Mariana's face.
Shaking, bat still in hand, Mariana's dark brown eyes flickered to the direction of where she heard the impact--and gasped sharply at the grinning pumpkin staring back at her.
An awkward silence hung in the air before Mariana deigned to break it with a undignified: "...Fuck."
Mariana's eyes darted between the pumpkin head and the body, trying very hard to not incite the latter to pull the trigger on the shotgun. "Uh...I am so sorry about knocking your head off. But in my defense, you snuck up on me," she said, unsure if this was even the right move.
A distorted growl emanating from somewhere (whether it was the pumpkin head on the floor or the body in front of her, she didn't know) and it was enough for Mariana to drop the bat. "Okay, okay! My bad! Let me just, uh...one second..."
She inched carefully to the pumpkin head laying on the floor, bending down to lift it in her hands. She inched back to the body, ensuring the face was in the right direction before she set it back to where the glow emanated from. It seemed as if that did the trick, for the being in front of her now canted its head to and fro as if testing to ensure the head was properly...attached (how it was attached with no neck was beyond her).
It lowered the shotgun, the grinning Jack-o-Latern head unnerving Mariana just a bit. "Okay, so, I...uh, I fixed your head. As weird as that sounds. So I'm gonna...I'm gonna tell my friends fuck the candy and go home," she mumbled, raising her hands in surrender. When she received no response, she started backing away. "Well, bye, then! Sorry again for knocking your head off!"
Everything happened fast: before Mariana could start leaving, the being's free hand shot forward and snatched her by the wrist, bringing her back close.
Too close.
Close enough that she could see the same, yellow glow inside of the pumpkin's head, past the carved, triangular eyes.
Mariana's breath caught in her lungs, eyes wide. "Uh--"
"You..." The voice was a distorted rasp, radiating command and dominance in a way that made her shiver. "I want you."
"Es-squeeze the fuck out of me?"
"You heard me, human." The pumpkin face leaned closer, so close that the scent of pumpkin and something else--something otherwordly--filled her nose. "I want you."
"And what makes you think I'm up for sale?" Mariana couldn't help the sass coming out of her mouth. But when some headless horseman started to make a claim, she wasn't just going to bend over without questions answered. "Last I checked, you can't buy humans anymore. There's a whole law against that."
A sinister laugh rumbled from the being. "You think the Reaper follows your human laws?" he retorted and that made Mariana freeze.
"The Reap--" she began, swallowing thickly before continuing, "The Reaper. That's you? The eternal servant of the Witch of the Wilds from heaven knows how many centuries ago?"
"Smart girl. Though the Witch has been gone a long time. Unfortunately, her damned spell keeps me her slave." The Reaper pulled away, but not too far. "The Witch still owes me for carrying out her commands. And she said I could have anything I desired--which means you."
"I have absolutely fuck all to do with the Witch of the Wilds!" Mariana retorted, eyes wide. She should have been thinking of her self-preservation, but right now she was focused on the audacity of the thing in front of her. "I'm not some reward for your indentured servitude or whatever!"
"Feisty, pretty thing," The Reaper crooned, hand now moving from Mariana's wrist to catch a lock of her black hair. "You say that like you have a choice."
