. i believe that shamane's one to have multiple connections -- he's fairly sociable, the type that would approach first. when you first would meet, he would definitely be the one to talk first.
. shamane likes to show you cool tricks that he learnt a few years back -- dances he learnt from his teacher, or maybe just showing off his different masks.
. shamane's the type of person that you go to whenever you need help -- he's great at lightening the mood and giving advice in grim situations, like the multiple times he has offered help to kaalaa baunaa.
. throughout the story, shamane acted as a character that would reduce the tension in the atmosphere. whenever you're sad, he'd crack a light joke or two to cheer you up -- if that doesn't work, how about a cup of tea and you can talk to him about it?
. he definitely give off this open, carefree vibe about him; he's just someone that's always there to listen, never makes you feel left out. you just know that whenever you're facing a conflict, you're free to just knock on his door.
. shamane has a more carefree and teasing nature. he would often tease his friends, and you. if you were to do the same, there might be a playful war between you two.
. shamane would want someone free-spirited and true to themself, similarly to him. that does not mean he wants an exact clone of him, except that he wants someone that could really let him be himself. as you know, his childlike nature is more of a choice from his suffering; he would like someone that makes him forget all about that and just focus on himself instead of the past!
. shamane would also like someone to keep him in check; whenever he's too reckless, he wants his partner to be there. he doesn't want to be restrained to anything though, but just as long as you remind him that he has limits and to take care of himself, its fine.
. shamane praises you often. he's very prideful about you and your relationship, and he wants you to know that he loves you. he'd also like it if you were to reciprocate his affections!
. he loves to give you gifts, as well. random trinkets and ornaments he collected on his journeys, and good luck charms for when he's away. he'd also enjoy if you reciprocate! he would keep a small box or a small space of all the letters, notes, and gifts that you sent to him.
. i feel like the two of you would act as any old married couple. attached to the hip, just trying to savor each moment together. oftentimes, you'd be out in town with him, grocery shopping or whatever! he values quality time with you, he believes it's the most genuine out of the love languages.
if i'm gonna be honest , i forgot all about the 1.3 event when i was writing this ... tried to make this as accurate as i could, not sure if i succeeded !! made these so long its UGLY imsosorry ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა might edit some things soon !!
okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.
;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"
Forget Me Not x Reader.
2.3k words.
self-harm implied
You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.
thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!
I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it
either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!
Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.
Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way.
And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.
The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?
He does.
On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.
You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.
Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?
Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.
All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.
He can't tear his eyes away.
Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.
That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.
"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."
His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.
You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.
"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."
But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?
"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."
The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.
He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.
His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.
"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."
Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?
Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.
He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.
That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.
Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.
"Wait, don't do that-!"
Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.
Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.
"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"
Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.
"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."
"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."
"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."
"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.
An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?
Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.
"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"
"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.
"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."
You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.
Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.
Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.
"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.
You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.
"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.
You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.
"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."
Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.
The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.
Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.
A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.
A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.
And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.
(GN READER X VERTIN, FLUFF, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP)
Only you my girl, only you babe, only you~
(VERTIN)
VERY clingy on her sleep actually. Don't be suprised when you find yourself to be bundled up by her. There wasn't a single night where her hands wasn't placed on you, whether it be hugging you from the back, or just hand holding.
Elaborating on this, this means none of your rare fights would last long anyways. Vertin would sleep on the other side of your bed at night and you would wake up with her crooning on your neck the next morning.
And it wouldn't matter if you were sulking or whatevs, you would always find your place at her arms no matter how hard you try to avoid it.
However, she sometimes have reoccurring nightmares. You'll know when she starts to mumbles, or maybe even groan sometimes..
She wouldn't tell you though, but rather assure yourself to not worry about her and says she's used to it. And she wouldn't forget to apologise to you if her "nonsense" disturbs your sleep.
But it's more, obvious, during her worse days of seasonal nightmares. Guilt eats her up when Vertin finally wakes up from her dream to see your worried and tired face. She would suggest that she would sleep on the sofa. But of course you wouldn't allow it.
Often rambles some weird facts when it alligns with your hobby. Vertin is the type of gal to know everything about anything, especially about history (since yk,, she's a timekeeper)
Oh? That hobby? Didn't you know that it was accidentally created when an arcanist thought it was more convinient to use arcanist items rather than human items, but found out it has other effects?
Oh, yeah? That famous old song you're listening to? Fun fact, it was created when the singer had to improvise the lyrics by memory because someone had stolen the original script.
A sucker for your home-made lunch box you made for her to eat during her long field mission. You ironically made love shapes with bits of foods and cheesy words with ketchup. And you know what?? SHE WILL EAT THAT UP IN ONE GO
Regulus once took a peek at Vertin's lunch box and boy was Vertin was teased for it.
Vertin doesn't care though.
I mean, she gets to eat your carefully hand crafted food rather than drinking unhealthy soda 24/7.
There is rarely an occasion where you and her are left alone in the suitcase. But when it does, you two get to enjoy the peace and quiet together. You two would joke around if this is what it feels like to grow old together in the future.
Or some other times, Vertin would turn on the record player for you to listen together. Vertin would read a book or on her work desk, and you will be knitting or solving a puzzle. But all in the same room.
After all, your relationship has come to the point where you don't need words to understand each other.
This girl keeps EVERYTHING you gave her. Even before you guys are official. Not to mention, she has a box dedicated to items that were once gifted from you. And it's sometimes ridiculously absurd.
Remember that chocolate bar you once gave her? Well, the wrapper of said chocolate bar is still in her possession. She said its for memories when you told her to just throw it away.
But often times, it made you two reminisce of the past where you two were still fools in love that do awfully foolish things for each other (the intensity is tone down now that you have been together for years, but still)
Can I just say your Shamane x readers are absolutely golden. I rarely see any content for this man and you’re literally feeding all Shamane lovers right now ‼️‼️‼️‼️
THANK YOUUUUU!! <3333 YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY I AM TO HEAR THIS
Its actually my first time posting my writings publicly and I'm glad there are some who enjoy my writings. And I know right??? There's so little of Shamane x readers stuff, so yeah yk, I've taken upon myself to write Shamane so me and other people could enjoy!
Prisoner In The Cave so far has just been Regulus really going through it like she can not catch a break. Being the comedic relief really has it’s down sides
Marriage!Shamane who helps you get accustomed with the forest when you moved in his humble hut. Simply adores you when you give nicknames to that flower-loving carbuncle, or the pack of wolves who now has a second owner to be pampered with.
Marriage!Shamane who proudly shows you his collection of intricate and colourful masks, and what kind of rituals he imbues it with. Even tells you his personal favourites and least favourites and why. And after all that explanation, he would ask you which one suits him most lmao
Marriage!Shamane who shares his candies and sweets with you after winning some fight with kids. You hesitate for a while, wondering if you should accept it or return it. Kids with your favourite candies are now being extra careful to not let Shamane see their stash, though.
Marriage!Shamane who let's you put stickers or small doodles on his prosthetic arm. Or both! Now whenever he looks at it, it reminds him of you. Kanjira just rolls her eyes whenever Shamane flexes his prosthetic arm. "Adult's these days" Kanjira sighs in annoyance.
Marriage!Shamane who wants you to wash his hair. The feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp is enough for him to lean on your hands, eyelids shut. It's just so relaxing, so how could he not? Would definitely share his secret hair care routine with you.
Marriage!Shamane who purposefully ruffles your hair, just to see your annoyed glares you send him. He wouldn't do it often, but you best be keeping an eye out. If his eyes keeps landing on your head, that's your warning sign.
Shamane X Reader, Reader is Gender-neutral, Shamane is in his pining phase
His carbuncle companion voluntarily being a wingman for Shamane.
Oh! Said carbuncle didn't watch his steps and accidentally made you topple on Shamane's side, his hands quickly holding your arm to keep you balanced.
You quickly muttered your apologies as you retracted from his boundary, whilst the trouble maker just looks at you both like 0_0
Shamane nervously laughed, his head quickly turns to the side, hoping you wouldn't notice how his face was a bit pinkish.
What's this? That needy carbuncle would bite if neither of you started cradling it? Now Shamane and you would take turns holding that rascal.
"It's wiggling. Shamane, grab that cherry beside you. It's hungry"
But alas, that critter is your personal baby for the day, and both of you guys have to play parents.
It's gotten to the point where Shamane had to sit the critter down, face to face. The same vibe as Constantine was sitting on Madam Z's room, hands entertwined.
"This is... On purpose, isn't it?"
Carbuncle's just 0_0?
"...."
" Look, I swear I'll tell them someday, other day, but not now"
"...." Carbuncle doesn't even shift, or nod to approve Shamane's statement.
"Oh! Look, we need to start a fire. I wonder if we have some kindling nearby"
I do see people talk about Constantine one-sided beef with 12 year old Vertin (and the proxy war against Manus that it represented) but god the Mesmer scenes fucking get me. Mesmer was willing to rebel against the foundation—she sings with Vertin! She wants to know more about the outside world!
And then Constantine say you want to know about the world? Fine. And she makes Mesmer play Doctor against the most vulnerable and unstable of people the foundation has. Here, Constantine says. This is what the outside world is like. This is the truth. And then immediately afterwards multiple of her classmates die trying to leave during the storm. It’s a statement of “Don’t step out of line, or you will die.” It’s the conditioning of expects at the St. Pavlov’s Foundation.
Make no mistake though Constantine only did this because she saw Mesmer Jr as a useful tool—if she wasn’t part of the Mesmer family, she probably would’ve have died as well. So basically she inflicted immense trauma onto a 12 year old because she sees said 12 year old as an asset.
And I think three doors basically emphasizes that this is not an uncommon occurrences for the Mesmers, both in and outside the family. They are only truly valued by what they provide to the world, and not as people. Scott Mesmer is thrown away and discarded until his death, and then all of his “value” is scraped up as a way to appeal to society’s good graces.
Imagine, that all this time, Vertin tries to deny that she is the victim of loneliness , that one day, her companions would stay and wouldn't be reversed, that one day, the storm would stop and she would finally have lasting friends.
Maybe can add that Vertin feels guilty but won't admit that she had tried to distance herself from her friends, but, of course, failed.
She tries to reason that she doesn't want to endanger them like last time, the cost being the lives of her friends during her youth, or simply doesn't want false hope and already in-depth friendship, so that if her friends got reversed, the emotional impact wouldn't last long on her.
Doesn't help that Foundation already put barriers around Vertin to not invest too much emotion on people when recording time. So if she did felt grievances, it would be her own fault.
Even going her way to experiment with her suitcase without informing the Foundation beforehand, the sole purpose of saving arcanists she met, or even salvaging trinkets of her friends who later became the victim of the Storm. (cough cough Schneider feather dress)
The thought of her suffering from loneliness lingering on the back of her mind, yet she pushes it away, justifying that after all of it ends, she would never be lonely again, just for 37 to unknowingly confirm that, despite Vertin's efforts, she would forever live with the dull feeling in her heart. Reality sinks in like guillotines on her neck.
Just like how 210 said that axis y and axis x would change (heavily implied that axis y and axis x are people who can be reversed) but 0 would be unchanging. Vertin would always be an observer, a bystander, watching her friends dissolved into puddles of rain. This was her fate. To be immune to the Storm.
