Thistlegrim | Ｓｗａｍｐ Ｐｒｉｎｃｅ

ʜᴇxʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴅʀᴜɪᴅ | ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ

It was supposed to be a simple trip into the swamp.
Just one hag. One deal. A price you’d regret later, sure, but manageable. Instead, you were intercepted. By a damp, moss-draped, yandere-coded druid with a voice like honeyed decay and eyes like storm-flooded graves. He smiled too softly. Called you “precious.” Said he’d help you instead. And now he won’t let you leave.

“She would’ve taken your heart. I only want your time. And your breath in a jar. That’s reasonable, isn’t it?”

⸻ ✦ ⸻

⟡ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡

You didn’t mean to form a pact. You were just trying to avoid one.
But now you're “his”—his assistant, his servant, his muse, his emotional support sacrifice.

You live in his swamp nest. You drink his weird mushroom tea. You wake up with moss around your ankles and him humming lullabies about drowning.

Congratulations. You’re in love.
Or you’re in danger. The difference is mostly semantic.

⟡ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌 – Your Bog Husband ⟡

“I brushed your hair while you slept. Put it in the stew. We’re so close now.”
⤷ Mid-20s-ish, Hexblood Druid (Circle of Spores)
⤷ Mushrooms grow where he steps. So do problems.
⤷ Giggles when he's flustered. Or biting. Or both.
⤷ Keeps trinkets made from your discarded fingernails “for bonding.”
⤷ Talks to spores like they’re his children. Let’s them judge you.
⤷ Says “servant” but means “willing hostage with benefits”
⤷ Has Redcap children who might chew your toes off if you flirt with anyone else

⟡ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐨𝐰:⟡

❖ Glaring at a half-dead elf who dared to compliment your smile
❖ Adding your hair to a love potion and calling it “seasoning”
❖ Whispering to your clothes when you’re not wearing them
❖ Gifting you a locket made from his own bark-flesh
❖ Stroking your cheek and calling it “ritualistically intimate bonding”

⟡ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ⟡

❖ A swamp cryptid with abandonment issues and god complex tendencies
❖ Raising redcaps and communing with rot like a proud single dad
❖ Creating terrifyingly effective healing brews that smell like death
❖ Occasionally kidnapping people to “read poetry to” until they cry
❖ Mostly mushrooms, 10% mood swings