Finally got back into Malevolent and I just finished Coda. Kayne felt so familiar to me and I couldn't put my finger on it... until a deep memory was pulled from the depths of my mind.
I HATE liking niche or non-conventionally attractive fictional men!!!!
(more yapping under cut)
I hate wanting to freak a fictional man or read smut or see slutty fanarts of that man JUST FOR THERE TO BE LIKE- THREE POSTS.
AND THERES ALWAYS GOTTA BE AT LEAST ONE FIC OR FANART THAT'S JUST PISS KINK STUFF
No shame to piss lovers, where my watersports baddies at???
BUT JUST ONCE I WANT TO SEARCH "man I find sexy x reader smut" AND SEE MULTIPLE PAGES OF NORMAL SMUT (not rape, pedophilia, incest or necrophilia) PLEAAAASSSEEEEEEUH
Like it's to the point we're beetlejuice is one of my least niche ones
And it's not even always because the franchise isn't that popular or people don't wanna fuck the character, it's just really often that the fandom, or the specific character lack a creative/like-.... Creating fan base. So they just don't write or draw anything. AND IT MAKES ME SO FUCKING SADD
kay so just finished The Hollow. loved it. mostly watched it for the Weird Guy lol. Gustaf. The Game Host. so yes this is Gustaf(Weirdy) x Reader. the bit after the haunted metro. and Skeet lives. because add one thing and the rest is changed anyway:p oh uh btw real you died so mentions of death not graphic. season 2 stuff. so also spoilers ig? bit of angst some cute. some eh ig.
The Hollow Games were never meant to be easy, but this was something else entirely. Gustaf stood alone in the darkened corridors of the haunted metro station, the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows, making the environment feel even more oppressive.
You and the kids had navigated the haunted metro, dealing with the ghost train, and now you all had one goal in mind: finding a way to go home. Having been stuck in the game after every reset since your last game ten or fifteen years earlier, you were the most experienced. The kids, including Skeet who was alive thanks to your healing powers, looked to you for guidance, sensing you had been there the longest.
Finally, the journey led you to the jazz club, where Gustaf was meant to perform. Inside, the melancholy notes of the band echoed in the dimly lit space. You noticed things from the "previous game" but different—Benjamini, Benjamin, Death, and the Horsemen were there, but none of them remembered the kids or you. The kids were just starting to piece things together. You're used to it.
As Gustaf sat alone on the stage, playing the piano, the haunting melody of "Creep" by Radiohead filled the air. The lyrics were heavy with sorrow, and he was lost in the music. "I'm not supposed to be here," he sang, unaware of your presence.
Desperate to get his attention, the kids tried everything from using their powers to screaming at him. Each attempt was thwarted by Benjamini, Benjamin, and the crowd, leaving you no choice but to wait. You knew Gustaf would eventually come into the crowd like he always did—he was the crowd-walking performer type.
When Gustaf made his way through the crowd, he barely stuttered in his song when the kids finally reached him. "You're not supposed to be here!"
But when he saw you, he broke out of his trance. His eyes widened in shock and recognition.
"Are you real? Are you really here?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Yes, I'm here," you answered, stepping closer.
"I wish you were," he whispered again, this time with a mixture of hope and sorrow.
"I am real, at least I feel real, Gustaf," you replied.
"I mean, I wish I could see you again."
"I don't understand. You can?"
"No. I can't. You're... the other you, the real you, is dead. I—I killed you. Not literally. But if it wasn't for me, you—the real you would still be alive."
"Stop. Stop saying that," you insisted, reaching out to him. "I am real, Gustaf. I'm real. This is real. Help us. Help them. Please."
Gustaf's shoulders slumped, the weight of his guilt almost too much to bear. He could see the desperation in your eyes, the plea for understanding. Despite everything, he couldn't ignore the connection he felt, the bond that defied logic.
"I'll help you," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's hard. Knowing what I know."
You nodded, your expression softening. "I know it's hard. But we're here now, and we need you."
As the band played a slow, mournful tune, you stepped closer to him. "May I have this dance?" you asked, your voice a gentle whisper.
He hesitated for a moment, then took your hand, pulling you into a slow, somber dance. The music wrapped around you both, a reminder of the losses and the love that still lingered.
"I wish things were different," Gustaf murmured.
"So do I," you replied, resting your head on his shoulder. "But for now, let's just be here. Together."
In that moment, amidst the haunted echoes and the lingering guilt, you found a small measure of peace. The dance, though tinged with sorrow, was a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was still a connection, a bond that refused to be broken.
As the music faded, Gustaf held you a little tighter. "Thank you," he whispered. "For being real to me."
"And thank you," you replied, "for not giving up."
One of the kids, unable to hold back any longer, interrupted the moment. "Uh, hello? We came here to ask for help on how to get home. Not to do...whatever you two are doing."
You and Gustaf shared a small, sad smile before turning your attention back to the task at hand. Together, you would find a way to get everyone home. Even if it meant you wouldn't.
