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hazelfoureyes · 9 months ago

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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

༻Masterlist༺

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brograndpa · 10 months ago

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From how the Ascension ritual was described in game though, I think you're missing a huge aspect as to why the ascension was so important to Cazador and Astarion. Both of them are naturally power hungry individuals, so all it does to their personalities is set loose all their worst aspects because they have nothing to fear anymore. Other than that, the infernal contract is made to be an exchange of 7000 souls for the salvation of one. Astarion regains his humanity through ascension in a way that his spawn self literally can't. It's not just about being able to walk in the sun, it's about regaining his capacity to feel and love in a way that's not co-dependent.

Astarion even says it himself when he ascends that he no longer feels that vampiric hunger anymore. He is truly himself again as he was two centuries ago before he became a monster—for better or worse. Considering certain details about his time as a magistrate that were axed from the full version of the game, ascension is the closest thing we can get to seeing the man he was before Cazador, though it will never erase what was done to him. The same goes for his eternal spawn ending, with the major caveat being that one version is a survivor, while the other is a victor.

D&D Vampire Lore Dump #5

Vampire Psychology Is extremely depressing! The changes vampirism inflicts on the psyche, plus vampire morality and the state of their souls; How they deal with conflict; Vampires' relationships with others (including other undead); vampire "mental health" and depression naps.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER FOR FIRST TIME READERS: D&D is decades old, spans five editions, several settings and hundreds of writers. One guy establishes a piece of lore, and then the next picks it up goes "nah" and writes something else. I collected info from four different source books, all from different editions, which naturally don't entirely agree on how vampires work. Lore never stays consistent and may contradict itself. You may see information somewhere else from a source I don't have that contradicts what I wrote here. If you read this and like some of this stuff but not other bits, take the good and ditch the rest. Larian themselves have not written BG3 totally compliant with some established D&D lore or the original games. You do what you want.

Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy | Weaknesses and Cures | Psychology

Are vampires evil? As a rule, yes. Gleefully so. Vampirism, the condition, is inherently evil/harmful. Vampires as individuals may be more complicated, as they are still people with their own personalities, and vampirism can affect them atypically or with varying levels of severity. There are exceptions to norms and rules...

...except for the rule that vampirism is a curse and it does corrupt one's emotions and values, twisting them to be monstrous parodies, inversions or extremes of the original quality to at least some degree.

One of the most notable traits vampirism is that it will twist and inflate is the individual's pride, and arrogance is a universal trait. It definitely doesn't help when the vampire in question was already a self-absorbed idiot in life. Many vampires are completely consumed by delusions of grandeur.

Even when they want to be good people, vampires are flat out described as typically being "innately selfish" which "makes a good alignment difficult to uphold."

Vampirism also instils sadism and violent tendencies - vampires enjoy violence and hurting people and when they experience rage the sensation is made more powerful.

That vampirism corrupts its victims isn't that surprising, considering the origins of vampirism all seem to lead back to evil Powers who exist to corrupt people the exact way vampirism does. Demons, infernal pacts, Archdevils, and evil deities like the Dead Three…

However, a vampire can resist this corruption. There is at least of a fragment of the mortal they were in a vampire, the "part of it that is still mortal [and] yearns tenaciously for the things it had in life," even as the parts of them consumed by vampirism scorns those impulses.

If their will to do so or their attachment to a specific part of their identity is strong enough then individual vampires can retain/maintain some part/s of their mortal self intact and untainted by the curse. Vampires do not necessarily begin their unlives evil-aligned and have the option to struggle against their condition and be more than their curse tries to make them, if they chose.

It doesn't help that their nature is enforced by their "upbringing." The combination of vampiric nature with the trauma that they're "born" into leaves an incredibly strong inclination towards evil alignments eventually.

Maintaining a good alignment is beyond the "typical" vampire, but neutral alignments have been seen in those who don't want to be the monsters their master made them into. They can choose to help others and resist their worst impulses. Notably while the 3.5e description of vampire spawn as pcs says that they are traditionally evil and typically find good difficult to uphold due to their nature, that exact wording means that being good-aligned or leaning towards it is not impossible. It is unfortunately far easier for vampires to backslide than to move forward, and there is no escape from the constant instinctual drive to become evil for as long as a person remains a vampire, but it can be done.

"The arts of creating and controlling undead are Evil […] but undead themselves [vampires included] are not always evil." - Lords of Darkness (1e)

And on the bright side of innate vampire inclinations, vampires don't have the inherent hatred for the living possessed by other undead! (They just tend to think mortals are inferior and usually only bother to look at them if they're in need of slaves and/or food…)

Vampires without souls are a special exception to morality here, they are fully evil and have nothing within them to counter the vampiric instincts, but first we need to talk about the state of a vampire's soul - a topic of much bickering.

The soul in D&D canon is basically the essence of life and personhood - without it, while the brain may continue to fire neurons and circulate hormones, the individual feels "empty" and grows increasingly disassociated from those emotions and the world around them. They lose their personality, emotions and ability to form genuine relationships as everything they were starts to fade away into nothing.

Here's a quote from a soulless dude talking to the woman he loved up til the moment he lost his soul and couldn't love her any more that I think sums it up quite nicely: "I… I do not remember your love […] I have tried to. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory. But it is gone… a hollow, dead thing. For years, I clung to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. […] I look upon you and I feel nothing."

So, in 1e undeath destroyed the soul. In 2e I'm not sure if they had one - no, I think? 3.5e and 4e I don't know ever answered the question. 5e says they do have a soul, but it's corrupted in the manner already discussed.

In the Baldur's Gate series? Yes, they do. Aside from the whole 7000 souls thing, back in BG2 there's a vampire you kill whose soul is in agony and lingers to beg you to kill him and thanks you when you do for freeing him from undeath. In BG3 you may read Cazador's subconscious thoughts- as he mourns his mortal life, "the monster that will not end" and wishes to die. The soul is still there in the background, but it really wishes it wasn't.

In the case of vampires that don't have a soul all that's left behind is a flesh puppet piloted by a curse, echoing emotions they can't feel based on memories of a mortal life they can't really understand because all they are is a void filled by the violent, selfish, power-hungry monster that is pure vampire while the person they were is gone forever.

And even they're having a bad time! In BG2 we have another vampire: an elf whose spirit/soul is long gone, and she's still subconsciously screaming in horror at what she's become (which says a lot considering how evil she was to begin with. Like, "drain the life from the population a whole city, killing them to empower myself" unrepentant Evil).

Revisiting that "innately selfish" thing; The one thing vampires prize above all else is their own skin, and they will usually avoid risking it at all costs. A vampire might be willing and able to put aside the urge to be a selfish asshole, if it's for the sake of something they care about enough, but that's rare.

Vampires often rely on strategy and avoid straight-up fights. A "fair fight" is a foreign concept. They don't face an unknown enemy face-on until they know what they're dealing with, and will generally keep their distance trying to manoeuvre themselves into an advantage. They'll pretend to be more affected by their weaknesses than they are, to trick an opponent into letting their guard down. For example, pretending to be turned by a cleric, only to sneak back when the party's asleep and kill them then. Fleeing to either draw enemies into a trap or to sneak back for a backstabbing is a very popular tactic amongst vampires.

They also like to try and weaponise whatever social skills they have. Seduction, intimidation, coercion, bribery… whatever they think they can use to try manipulate others. They infiltrate the echelons of power, turning the rich and influential into their puppets. Build spy networks. They'll try to divide groups of potential enemies by exploiting their weaknesses, trying to weaken the group by turning the group against each other and enticing others to betray their allies in exchange for allying with the vampire. Vampires do so like to collect minions. Whether it's an innate desire for domination or a side effect of beginning unlife without autonomy, it's hard to find a vampire that doesn't (want to) have an army of servants and a desire to control people.

Speaking of minions, Vampires have a knack for necromancy and commanding their fellow undead considering them obviously inferior and so obviously existing to serve them. You'll often find other kinds of undead in the service of vampires.

Other sapient undead in turn think that vampires are obnoxious morons! Mummies think vampires are disgusting because they drink blood and they have little patience for vampires' tendencies towards peacocking and melodrama. Ghouls prefer to avoid interacting with vampires because they're arrogant pricks. Wights think vampires are "embarrassing poseurs trying too hard to pass themselves off as living beings." Mohrgs respect the vampiric drive to seek power, but look down on them for depending on the living to survive.

Vampires make the absolute worst company for other vampires; they're solitary predators, competitive and highly territorial and two free willed vampires will fight if they occupy an area together. It won't necessarily be combat; it might be fighting through their minions; or sabotaging each other's political machinations or something - but one needs to feel it has defeated or driven away the other. When it does come to a fight, it can often dissolve into animalistic violence. An example given of vampires in combat is of two vampires trying to kill each other with their bare hands, "hissing and spitting like cats". As vampires get older they learn to control their instincts and temper, and they can ally with their peers temporarily, but this too will inevitably collapse under the stress this cooperation puts them under. The only vampires another vampire can (barely) tolerate are the ones it controls or the ones it's magically brainwashed into "loving". If a vampire must deal with another on less unequal terms, they do it at a distance and they engage in a careful exchange to ensure the deal does not benefit the other party more than it benefits them and does not place one in control of the other in any way.

Young vampires often turn their loved ones in order to avoid losing them to age, disease and death. This obviously backfires, as the loved ones can only stay with them as slaves or enemies.

Despite the instinctual side of being a vampire ensuring that they can't be around each other, as individual people, vampires can have compatible personalities and feel affection for each other without being chained to one another (by doing it from a distance) - Mortals, of course, do not pose this issue. They pose other ones related to power dynamics and being a potential food source.

As vampires always seem to be utterly selfish fucks who treat everyone else as garbage that exists only to be ordered around, nobody expects them to care about anything or anyone else. And that's why people get caught off guard when a grieving vampire - against all expectations of vampire behaviour, arrives - sometimes out of nowhere, to exact vengeance on behalf of whoever was killed. Typically vampirism will try to warp affection into obsession and a desire to possess, but vampires can care about others.

Also when vampires feel strongly about another person, they definitely don't respond very healthily to losing them. Vampires seem to largely respond to the initial hit of grief by going into a blind, animalistic frenzy where they massacre everything within arms reach. After that they become utterly consumed by vengeance, which can spiral horribly out of control.

One day, inevitably, the stress and misery of eternal unlife gets too much. Depression is a given. Paranoia is also incredibly common. Whatever coping mechanisms the vampire has steadily spiral out of control. If the vampire's choice happens to be violence and hedonism, then they rapidly devolve into an utter monstrosity. Often the vampire's struggles become increasingly obvious until they're killed either by hunters or another vampire. Suicides also occur.

When vampires feel the weight of their unlives pressing down on them they usually go into hibernation in the hope that the rest will refresh them a bit and alleviate the stress. Or at least shut out the world. In a state of hibernation the vampire's thoughts are slow and sluggish; a single thought can take months or years to process. They have no sense of the passage of time or hunger as they experience strange dreams mixed with memories and the occasional vague impressions of their surroundings. The vampire has no way to know or control how long they will be in hibernation for. It will last at least 40 years, and has been known to last for centuries. In this state a vampire is significantly weakened, physically and mentally. Being forced to wake before their time may kill them, and if they wake "naturally" it will take 3-10 days for their minds to fully shake off the hibernation state. The vampire must feed within 12 hours prior to laying down in a safe space, underground and surrounded by several feet of rock/earth on either side (including above and below) in order to enter hibernation.

#bg3 #considering ascension is a thing that exists specifically only in this game #and because dnd lore is made to be flexible depending on the dms whims #i would very much disagree with any take that says astarion as a spawn doesnt have a soul #considering all 7000 sacrifices are described as SOULS #ascension is meant to be absolute freedom for one soul so ascended astarion has his #not to mention how much spawnstarion continues to mask himself after cazador's death #i could go on about his path as a vigilante is just an extension of his survival instincts #but you hopefully get the picture #pr@ncing

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

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Tag list: @sh-tposter2021 @casmosmoon @hoesindifferentshows @daffodildelight @stuckinaoaktree @this-is-music @good-so @farleyis @starksdaughter20

Part 1

It has been a couple of days since your confession and Hobie was conflicted on whether he should rip the preverbal bandaid off and tell you of his secret identity, and possibly putting you at risk for potentially dangerous circumstances in the future, or keep you in the dark for a little while longer until he felt brave enough with himself and his situation to come forward; After all personal relationships -whether platonic or romantic- and Spider-Man never went well together. It was a sacrifice placed upon the shoulders of all variations who were chosen to dawn the mask of Spider-Man.

For if the legacy of being Spider-Man was a death sentence to those who are close, Hobie doesn’t want you death to be treated as his ‘canon event’ or whatever hand fisted bullshit excuse Miguel was trying to ram down everyone’s throats in order to justify in allowing a loved one of theirs to die. Hobie refuses that being the case and due to his righteous mistrust of Miguel, he kept your name out of his mouth unless it was within the presence of the few he could trust; Miles, Pavitr and Gwen.

‘So they have a crush on you.’ Pavitr began.

‘Yeah.’

‘And you have a crush on them.’ Miles jumped in.

‘Ain’t no point in hiding it.’ Hobie cooly replied because why should he bother hiding the obvious.

‘So…what’re you going to do about it?’ Gwen finishes and Hobie only shrugs in response, ‘dunno.’

Pavitr made an face of exaggerated shock and looks over at Miles and Gwen, who were already expecting this reaction from him as they exchanged looks with him, before looking back at Hobie. ‘Dunno, the person you like has expressed that they like you too-‘ ‘-it wasn’t me they were talking to Pav, it was Spider-Man, clear difference. No need to rom-com it.’ Pavitr waved his comment away and continues on his tangent, ‘they like you, you like them and your response to all that is; Dunno?!’ Hobie -again- shrugs. He really didn’t know what to do, yes the feelings between you two were mutual but that didn’t mean he was going to risk your safety over them; no matter how deeply he feels them to the point where the mere idea of you being put at risk because of him acting out of his selfishness in having you, made him physically hurt.

Hobie would rather enact upon his selfishness in a way that meant letting you go and moving on to someone who wasn’t going to be putting your life in constant danger, whilst also getting to shamelessly cling onto some part of you in the process; even if that meant just being your friend, even though he already knew that wasn’t what you wanted. ‘What do you want me to do Pavitr?’ Hobie began, ‘Go up to them and be like ‘remember the talk you had with Spider-Man up on the roof? Yeah that was me and no I’m not having a laugh because I like you too.’ He made a face at this, ‘nah I’d rather them call me a nonce for the rest of my life, well that is if they still want me in their life afterwards for lying to them this entire time.’ He murmurs the last part to himself mostly and it was silent for a while as he, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles sat on what has been said.

The later three shared a look between them as Hobie looked at a picture of the two of you that he kept within the pockets of his vest, smiling softly to himself as the echos of your laughter ran in his head like a melody he could set his soul adrift to on his most sleepless of nights. It was obvious to Gwen, Pavitr and Miles that Hobie held you close to his chest, right where his heart is; Gwen in particular was aware of how much of an impact you had on Hobie from the times she spent at his place and it was obvious as to where it was that you touched as Hobie made it apparent to keep it that way. You’ve made a home for yourself within Hobie’s heart and she knew that he’d fight to keep you in his life.

‘Hobie,’ he lifted his eyes to meet theirs, ‘would you rather be afraid to tell them who you are for the rest of your life, or tell them while you still have the chance because from what you’ve already told us about y/n, they wouldn’t hate you or call you a nonce, whatever that is.’ Miles mumbled under his breath as Hobie raised his brows, ‘has it crossed your mind at all that you might just overthinking all this? Not to say the fear ain’t real, what I’m trying to get at is this; you should pursue what makes you happiest, regardless of the fears you may have because in the end isn’t it better to have love and lost then to have never have loved at all?’

Hobie mulled on Miles’ advice once he got back to his reality before finding himself standing on that very same rooftop where his conflict began, looking down as he clutched his mask between both hands in contempt, so much so that he didn’t even hear your voice call out to him until you were right next to him. ‘Hobie? Everything alright?’ He had told you prior to meet up on the rooftop of some abandoned apartment complex that you were more then camisole with at this point, but the way he said it made you feel as though there was something eating away at your best friend and you weren’t about to let him go through anything alone without you.

Upon realising how close you were to him, Hobie was slick enough to hide his mask behind his back when he addressed you, stuffing it into his back pocket so that you wouldn’t get overly curious as to his hand placement but then again you were always as observant as him when he noticed the way your eyes lingered, like you already knew what this was about; to which Hobie wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for it would make this situation a lot easier for you to process what you already knew. ‘Yeah, everything’s cool, why is it that you think somethings up?’ The raise of your brows only told Hobie that you weren’t buying it, ‘oh I think there is but it looks to me that you need a little prompting.’ and without missing a beat your hand was halfway to reaching for his back pocket when he caught your wrist, holding it there as he looked at you incredulously. ‘The hell was that for knobhead.’

You shrugged, ‘like I said, you needed prompting otherwise you wouldn’t be defending whatever’s in your back pocket so adamantly as you are now.’ You were smart, Hobie had to give you that as he lets go of your wrist and decides to quit the unnecessary prolonging and pulled out the mask from his back pocket, chucking it into your awaiting hands as he then sat himself near to the edge with his back facing you so he couldn’t see the look upon your face when you say, ‘so this is what you were hiding from me…I knew Spider-Man felt too familiar and now I know why.’ He heard your footsteps get closer before stopping all together as you sat yourself next to him.

You were both silent but it was a silence loud enough to dampen out anything else in that moment and Hobie didn’t know where this silence would lead to, and neither did you as you were now realising that you had confessed your feelings to your best friend without knowing it; which was already enough to take in but for that friend to also be spider-man was a whole other thing to unpack. Where you mad that he didn’t tell you? No, not even in the slightest but you were more worried then you could ever be mad, after all you just found out your crush and best friend was spider-man for fuck sakes so of course you’d be more worried for his well being. ‘Here,’ you tell him, holding out his mask for him to take, ‘you can have it back.’ Hobie did as you asked and took his mask back, but before it was fully in his grasp you yanked it away from his reach, causing him to look at you.

‘Give it.’ He tells you straightforwardly but you stood your ground as you pressed a finger to your cheek, ‘not until you tell me something first; did you know I had a crush on you prior.’ Hobie shrugs. ‘No, honestly it wasn’t until but you admitted that you liked me that somethings started to make sense.’ You hummed, content with his answer but you weren’t through quite yet. ‘Do you…feel the same.’ You once again asked but this time your voice wasn’t as steady and strong, it was fearful and hesitant; something Hobie never wants you to be when near him.

‘Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious when I personally dealt with those who chatted shit about you behind you back, I thought it was obvious that when I let you into my heart, that there would be no way that I was letting you go but with this,’ he gestured to the mask in your outstretched hand, ‘made it all the more harder for me to do that without putting you in danger; I was hiding this other life from you to protect you but you were always too observant for your own good but it’s one of the many things I love about you.’ Hobie admits, happy he finally got it off of his chest. After hearing all that, you gave him back his mask and rested your head against his shoulder, murmuring, ‘your such a hassle.’

Hobie smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while throughout this whole situation and slugged his arm over your shoulder before resting his head on top of yours, ‘yeah but I’m your hassle.’ He says before pressing a kiss to your head, feeling you as you snuggle into his side, smiling to yourself, ‘how unfortunate.’ You say half heartedly as Hobie joins in, ‘yeah, poor you.’

#spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv imagine #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv fic #atsv x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown imagines #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fluff #spiderpunk x reader

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yandereunsolved · 5 months ago

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Yandere self-aware Dick Grayson—He really enjoys winging it.

Yandere Dick Grayson thought you were a god(dess) from another world. He first became self-aware while on patrol. He got hit in the face and sustained a concussion after the fight. He saw you for the first time—only your face. He became aware of the pictures on the pages of the issue you were reading. You picked up another one and opened it up, and he was still there. You watched something with Dick Grayson, and he was there. It was so incredibly overwhelming for him. He simultaneously exists in so many forms of media.

It makes it that much easier to stalk you.

He can just as easily slip out of a show or movie and watch you through your phone, maybe your television, or your computer.

Yandere Dick Grayson doesn't tell anyone about you. He asks Tim to search for alternate dimensions, but he simply brushes off Tim's questioning. He needs to know exactly what this is. He deludes himself into thinking you have chosen him. There has to be a reason you are now connected. You must be some sort of higher being that needs his protection and help. He needs to figure out how to get to you.

Yandere Dick Grayson talks to you a lot. He addresses you by name; he learned it by looking through your online accounts. He talks about everything from the most mundane to the most personal. He bares his soul to you. He hopes that one day you will do the same in return. After all, he's never been this vulnerable with you before.

It's startling the first time, but you think it must be some strange side plot. He must have a new love interest with your name that the writers haven't introduced yet.

Yandere Dick Grayson has an unbelievably arduous time maintaining normal romantic relationships. He is madly devoted to you, but he has to maintain his normalcy. His family may think he has lost his mind or had it manipulated if he told them what he sees and who he loves. He can barely find it within himself to go on dates with those who fancy him. He grows bored almost instantaneously. He imagines them in your visage, and it eases the ache in his heart a little. He needs you. He craves it so dearly.

Yandere Dick Grayson does the most rational thing he is able to think of. He makes a shrine devoted to you and offers things to it. You have to do a double take when you see this. You begin to ignore any media surrounding him. It just keeps popping up. He breaks the fourth wall and begs you to forgive him. He has everything he's learned about you. He needs you. He's so ashamed. He's so used to being confident and having it all together. When with you that all crumbles.

Yandere Dick Grayson is willing to support you through his hard time. He may be having panic attacks and beating himself off the page, but he knows you'll come back to him eventually. His dear deity would never forsake him. You wanted him to love you after all. Right? You did, obviously! You're just shy. No mortal has willingly worshipped you this much before. You're just busy in your world. You'll come visit him again.

Yandere Dick Grayson who eliminates your distractions for you. He simply pulls a few strings, sacrifices some people, and offers lost souls to demons! They drag you into his world, and he is so overjoyed. You are just a little frazzled. That's why you look so scared. Don't you worry. He'll keep you safe for the rest of his life. He may even sell his soul to make himself immortal so he may stay with you forever.

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acid-ixx · 5 months ago

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reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

partly inspired by @l0vergirls and @on-leatheredwings.

i like to think that jason todd as your yandere would be very subservient in a sense that he's willing to drown deeper into the depths of corruption and bury all of which hurts you. he's already killed hundreds, no thousands— you eventually lose track of your kill streak the moment blood touches your fingertips— what more can a couple of your foes or even harassers do? you don't even need to acknowledge his existence to guarantee that by the time the clock strikes the dawn of another evening, another life or even lives would be taken justly (in jason's eyes) to ensure you would walk the streets without the need to periodically check your back for any thieves or to feel adrenaline rush through your veins whenever you hear something out of the picture. no, you wouldn't, not when your savior, red hood, would be quicker than all to eliminate any dirt on the street.

sure, jason's moral code was to never murder low-life criminals but hell be damned if any filthy hands lay on your body. he would rather be shot with his very own collection of guns, than let your eyes glint with fear, with trauma he was so accustomed and hardened to. whereas bruce would be known to prioritize missions, jason would immediately abort his the moment he was given a signal that your safety was compromised. jason todd is a child of gotham, and he knows she wouldn't be merciful enough to spare a breathtaking soul such as yours; a life he promises to cherish with the second life he was blessed with. he knows, for sure, that you are the one to hold the very privilege to take his life. but while he's alive, he would take every opportunity to make sure your life was every bit as comfortable.

jason todd is never gentle with his identity as red hood, but as robin, as your jason; he is a man whose actions speak a thousand words. with him as your protector, he has taken to a habit of making sure you know he isn't there to hurt you, but rather keep you safe. and you know it in yourself to not see him as a threat. you would be greeted with your favorite copies of books, either limited or collector's edition. oftentimes, your table would be filled with warm food the moment you step inside your apartment after a night shift. sometimes, you would feel his presence in your room, just right after you enter would you know that he was in there minutes ago, leaving small trinkets or gifts that reminds him of you. they may be jewelry, or music boxes, or keychains. pieces that remind you that under that thick wall of hatred, there is a heart filled with a love for creativity.

he may be known as violent, but with you? you are his everything. your knuckles would be kissed by his bloodied, busted lips, softly, patiently with every reverence in the world. every kisses you sear him with are kisses to his wounds; bruises from which he knew he took for you. your waist or hip would be protectively caged in his scar-filled arm, the other ready to point a gun at another who perturbs his peace. his chest is your safe haven, you can lay on it at any moment and sleep to your satisfaction. his hold on you may be tight, but it would never be as tight as the fingers that would crush the throats of the people who would dare to even make you cry.

jason todd is your right hand man— never beneath you, never above you, but he will kneel for you as he would offer the land of the damned if you would ever accept his sinful sacrifices. all you have to do is say the word, and your very own lover would be glad to shed more blood for your namesake.

#🌷... yael's works #🧁... yael's misc.#yandere dc #yandere jason todd #yandere red hood #yandere x gn reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n

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literatureloverx · 7 days ago

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Would BSD men sacrifice their true love for the sake of the world, or would they let the world burn?

I know you are on a break for a while, so feel free to reply any time you feel like replying. However, I do sincerely wish you are resting properly and eating well. You are being missed and appreciated, our dearest Snow White, who is as beautiful and graceful as her name!

-🛵🌻

Awww, you’re flattering me, 🛵🌻-anon! Thank you so much. ♥️ Please forgive me for keeping some of these brief without much explanation—I’m still unwell. 🥺♥️

Please keep in mind that my requests are actually closed! I made an exception because this one intrigued me.♥️

Would BSD men sacrifice their true love for the sake of the world, or would they let the world burn?

Featured characters: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Nikolai Gogol, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

BSD MEN x fem!reader

I know this might surprise many of you, but I believe FYODOR might actually be capable of sacrificing the world for his darling. While we don’t know much about him, we do know he is intensely focused on his singular goal and unwaveringly confident in it. However, love is unpredictable—it can make even the most logical person act irrationally. Fyodor, being a semi-canon yandere and canonically willing to gift his darling an entire country as a Valentine’s Day present, shows that he could prioritise his darling in unexpected ways.

Though he is detached and calculative, this doesn’t necessarily mean his obsession lies solely with his ideal world and not his darling. His perception of love likely wouldn’t be romantic or warm—after all, this is Fyodor we’re talking about—but that doesn’t make it any less consuming. If he were to sacrifice the world, it would likely appear to be a practical, impersonal decision on the surface, though it would stem from deeply personal feelings.

Of course, his darling would have to bear the burden of being his weakness, paying the price for making him burn the world down for her.

DAZAI doesn't see a reason to live and has a complicated inner moral compass —if he even has one at all. If he were to find another reason to live beyond his darling, he might let the world burn to protect that purpose. Otherwise, he would likely choose to sacrifice his darling along with himself, as he would want to die together with them.

In doing so, he would simultaneously honour Odasaku's dying wish to save innocent people and do good, while also fulfilling his own desire for a double suicide—albeit in a twisted and tragic way.

CHUUYA… my beloved Chuuya. He would sacrifice you for the sake of the world, but not without crying his heart out in the process. He’s someone who carries his heart on his sleeve, no matter how much he tries to mask it with his tough exterior. This decision wouldn’t just break him—it would shatter him. He’d be haunted by the memory of what he’d done, the sound of your voice, your smile, and the warmth you brought into his life.

After that, he would never be the same. Chuuya, with all his passion and fire, would lose a part of himself—his joy, his light, and perhaps even his will to keep going. Though he wouldn’t let the world burn for you, his sacrifice would scorch his soul in ways no one else could see. He would shoulder the weight of the decision, carrying it like an eternal wound, always hidden beneath his bravado.

I don’t believe he has it in him to let the entire world burn just to keep you. Chuuya’s sense of duty, his unwavering commitment to the people he cares for, and his understanding of the bigger picture wouldn’t allow him to prioritise one life over billions. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t destroy him. Deep down, he’s just a man with a heart far too big for the world he lives in.

Yet, in his own way (or maybe even literally), he would die the day you did. Perhaps he would let himself waste away, quietly fading from the world as he lost the only person who made it feel like home. Or perhaps he would go out in a blaze of fury, throwing himself into battles he knew he wouldn’t return from. Either way, the Chuuya you knew—the one who loved you with all his being—would be gone, leaving only a shadow of the man who once was.

NIKOLAI is an obsessive individual, deeply scarred by trauma, pain, and mental instability. He would undoubtedly let the world burn for his darling. Despite his philosophical outlook, which claims to encompass all of humanity, his approach is ultimately rooted in his own personal experiences and inner struggles. At the end of the day, everything is about him.

His so-called friendship with Fyodor is a prime example of this—he clings to it not because Fyodor is a fascinating person in his own right, but because he believes Fyodor is the only one who truly understands him. Not once have we seen Nikolai genuinely reflect on Fyodor’s goals or thoughts. Similarly, his darling would need to be someone who both understands and cherishes him, which would inevitably drive his romantic obsession with her.

There’s no chance Nikolai would sacrifice his darling for anything. However, after letting the world burn for her, would he ultimately kill her because she understands him better than even Fyodor? The possibility is disturbingly high.

Before meeting the ADA Dazai and Atsushi, AKUTAGAWA would likely have let the world burn for his darling without hesitation. His overwhelming need for validation, coupled with his devotion to those he holds dear, would drive him to extreme lengths, prioritising his personal attachments above all else. His harsh upbringing and struggles for survival have made him fiercely protective of those who matter to him, making it plausible that he would abandon the world for his darling’s sake.

However, after his experiences with Atsushi, Akutagawa would find himself in a moral dilemma. These encounters push him to question his black-and-white worldview, challenging him to consider the value of broader ideals like justice, compassion, and sacrifice for the greater good. His budding respect for Atsushi and his complex, unresolved feelings toward Dazai would weigh heavily on his conscience, creating an internal struggle.

While he may still feel a deep, almost obsessive desire to protect his darling at any cost, the lessons he’s learned would make him pause.

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vxsellie · 26 days ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚. GHOSTS OF SACRILEGE !

synopsis. fbi agent!ellie williams x nun!reader ; it's truly no shock that the entirety of west virginia is emerged by trepidation, considering hundreds of residents have gone missing within the past three months. as a form of consolation for those fearful, an esteemed fbi agent is sent to investigate. what she finds, however, is more than she could ever have expected.

notes. this piece is part of the mythologica challenge! i tried my absolute hardest to do the theme justice bc of how good it is. also pls note that every town mentioned is real & i did a decent amount of research on each one, but that doesn't at all mean that it's entirely accurate. i've been to some of the places, but not all also ! this is my first time ever writing detailed smut so i literally know none of the correct words to use or how to describe what's happening & it might turn out being literal dog shit,, if that's the case i apologize!

warnings. religious horror, an attempt at writing smut, angst, plot twists, horrible world building, major character death x2, possessive / obsessive romance, descriptive gore, blood, satanic rituals, human sacrifice, blood, oral (r! receiving), brief mentions of abuse & assault, murder as a metaphor, past animal death, long exposition i'm sorry, and - last but most important - the sweet release of desecrating salvation.

wc. 9.5k+

𝓝aught but unease filled the tiny town of bluefeild as yet another missing person is found to be reported in the newspaper. the sun begins to peer over the horizon, long shadows cast against the sidewalk that newsboys toss the papers from. they ride their bikes down the concrete with a fervor that should be rare. but it’s been rather common in bluefeild as of late. every since december. ever since the incidents first began.

nobody in town can be seen outside without a frantic expression and a fast pace. fear fuels their every step as they scurry outside to retrieve the news before burrowing back into the safety of their homes, hungry eyes skimming the article in search of who’s gone missing this time.

ellie hadn't expected much when traveling here. a small town of worrisome locals, a serial kidnapper hiding in plain sight. y'know, the usual for cases like these.

but something about this case stands out to her. there's a certain weight in her chest as each day passes without answers. in the beginning, she'd asked around town, hoping to find some common denominator among everyone's weariness. but there's nothing. the residents are closed off, thick boots and even thicker country drawls quick to kick the agent off their rotting porch at first glance. she's been here for a while now, not a single clue made evident. no loose ends, no muddy footprints, no witnesses. it's like these people just disappear into thin air.

ellie sits in her idled car, eyes scanning today's newspaper for slips of information. she can't help the way her interest piques, slowly going mad with lack of elucidation. she runs a hand through her hair, shoulders weighed with fatigue and dwindling hope.

see, over two-hundred people have gone missing in the past three months ⎯ which is a big deal in and of itself, but even more so considering bluefeild's population is well under five thousand.

her windows fog as rain patters gently against the steel of her vehicle, the whether cold and dreary in comparison to her car's heated temperature. she supposes it fits the mood, though, doesn't it?

after twenty minutes of analyzing each and every word given, ellie groans and stuffs the newspaper into her glove box, slamming it shut. evidently, the paper provided nothing of use to her. it has a picture of the man missing, his name inscribed under the image, and a few words of grief are quoted to have been said by the families. but that's it.

as of this morning, jason casey has been added to the long list of missing persons. and not a soul could say why nor how.

ellie pulls her phone from her coat pocket, clicking on her bosses contact before wedging it between her ear and shoulder. she listens to it ring as she puts her car into gear, pulling out of the parking space she'd been occupying. it's not like anyone here would dare to use their cars anyhow. most shops and businesses have been temporarily closed, owners fearing the possibility of suffering the same fate as those prior.

"ellie?" joel's voice comes through the tiny speakers, papers rustling in the background of the call as he speaks. "what're you callin' me for? i thought you were on the bluefeild case."

"there's nothin' to go off of." she tells him. one hand is rested on the wheel whilst the other holds her phone.

"you're our best investigator, williams, i'm sure you'll find somethin'." he says offhandedly, continuing to shuffle through whatever papers are of more interest to him than his alleged best employee.

she rolls her eyes at his dismissive tone. "hundreds are missing, joel. without a trace or a sign left behind. they're likely dead, if i were to guess. i don't— what the hell good does that do?"

"find the bodies." he says easily. "their corpses might point to their killer."

"no shit." ellie scoffs. "the issue isn't what to do next, it's how the fuck i'm supposed to do it. this has been goin' on for months and no bodies have turned up. where am i even supposed to look? like i said, there ain't a damn thing left behind."

she coasts down the streets of bluefeild, using this time to feel the layout of it and examine what she's working with. she's been here for a while now, but the town remains a mystery to her. and, from what she's seen, it's a bit of a mystery to everyone else as well.

she notices that many of the homes are old and shabby, paint flaking and wood rotting. in the yards, however, almost every resident has some form of a religious symbol. a cross, a statue of mary, a flag for something biblical. anything to show their faith.

to each their own, i guess. she thinks to herself with a shrug before turning her attention elsewhere.

the streets are empty, as expected. a few street lights are on, the yellow illumination flicking with worn age. even on the two-lane roads, there's not a car in sight. she narrows her eyes at this, a shiver tracing up her spine at the disturbing vastness.

"well," joel says, "search the papers some more."

"i've done that a thousand fuckin' times." ellie groans, eyes still scanning her surroundings with intent of committing it all to memory. just in case. "there's nothin' there. it's just all information on the missing people, half-assed sympathy for the victim's family, and a picture of 'em."

joel sighs, the sound of tapping resonating through the phone. ellie recognizes the sound, having worked for joel long enough to know that he always taps a pencil against his desk when he's thinking. it's a good sign, she thinks. it means he's at least giving her predicament some thought.

she's been in bluefeild for eight days now, spending her time interrogating random residents for informations; spending her nights rereading the stupid fucking newspapers. naught good has been of ramification.

the repetition of it all is driving her insane, especially considering none of her efforts have yet to pay off in any sort of way. she'd hoped that when the next person showed up missing, something would present itself. a clue would rear its ugly head at her and she'd grab it by the throat with fervor. but no. jason casey went missing and all heads remain hidden. so, after an hour of battling with her pride, she decided to make the call to joel and admit her being stuck.

"okay." he says, shuffling a bit as he finally gives ellie his full attention. "okay, pull over for a second, i'm gonna need you to do somethin' for me."

she instantly obliges, pulling off to the nearest backroad. gravel crunches under her tires as she drives along the thin path wedged between two decrepit buildings. the alley is small and a bit sketchy, but that's exactly what she needs. ellie puts her car in park, windows translucent in their heavily fogged blanket.

"how many newspapers do you have on you?" joel asks when he hears her car go into idle.

"um," she reaches over and opens her glove box, watching as yellowed papers fall from the newly opened door. they flutter to the floor and atop the passenger's seat. she hums, amused at the sight of her obsession making a tangible image in her head. "a lot."

"okay, good. perfect." joel mutters, the clacking of a keyboard sounding through the tiny speaker. "the first person who went missing was carl andrews. he was thirty-seven. his wife claims he was supposed to have been walking home from work but never showed up for dinner."

ellie scrambles through her messy stack of newspapers, searching for carl's report. she finally finds it, the paper dated to have been written near the beginning of december. she straightens out the wrinkles, examining his picture.

"looks like your average middle age man." ellie mutters, taking in his scruffy beard and wrinkled skin. "he was a carpenter. had two kids, both boys."

"yes, i have the paper pulled up on my computer." joel says. "but it doesn't show his address or nothin'. this shitty website only has half of the damn document."

ellie skims through the words, searching for the street or neighborhood he'd lived in. when she turns up empty-handed she groans, now well familiar with the feeling of disappointment regarding this case. "nope. no home address." she says with an evidently annoyed tone.

"what about his workplace?" joel asks. "if he'd been walkin' home, his work must be close enough for him to do so."

"oh shit," she mutters. she'd studied his article for hours — studied all of them — and she hadn't even thought to look there. her hands clutch the paper as she searches with a hungered gaze. her eyes widen at the address listed on the paper. "yes it's on fifth street."

more typing is heard through the phone, "says here that,, there's a neighborhood right by there. a few blocks down from the carpenters' building. must've been where he lived."

"perfect." ellie grins, adrenaline rushing through her.

oh, she feels on top of the world right now.

"okay, now i want you to look for addresses in all the other papers." joel says, flipping a switch in his tone — off to being ellie's friend and on to being her boss. a familiar change, but an unpleasant one nonetheless. "check 'n see if there's a link between where they'd been last spotted."

"okay."

ellie sets carl's paper aside and grabs another random one. she reads the heading briefly, recognizing it to be the article on bryan turner who'd gone missing in the middle of january. he'd allegedly been walking his dog and never returned to his apartment, according to his elderly female neighbor.

the address is actually listed this time. not his exact apartment number, but the building. ellie can't help the smile that tugs at her mouth again as she grabs a random notepad and scribbles both addresses onto the paper, reminding herself to compare their proximity when she gets back to her hotel later tonight.

"you're a goddan genius, joel." ellie mutters as she sets bryan's paper atop carl's and grabs another. sam cortez. late december.

"thanks, kid." joel chuckles into the phone. ellie has it set aside, call set to speaker as she flips through papers and continues to write down addresses into her notes. her movements are frantic and hurried, adrenaline refusing to wind down from its newly heightened state. joel speaks again, regaining her attention. "uh, sorry t' tell you this but i've gotta go. it's almost midnight and i've been at the building since ten o'clock this mornin'."

"yeah yeah, whatever." ellie replies off-handedly. "thanks for your help, old man. i think i can take it from here now, though. go get your beauty rest."

"promise to call me in the mornin'?" he asks. "i wanna hear what y' find."

"yes, i promise." she laughs. "i'll call you as soon as i wake up."

"okay good. don't overwork yourself either, you need to⎯"

"goodbye, joel!" she says, grabbing her phone and hanging up on him before she has to listen to him reprimand her for lack of rest. he's one to talk, too, seeing as he'd just admitted to having been at the building all damn day.

she sighs, deciding to put a pin in her address search and get back to her hotel to finish working in the comfort of a bed.

she sets her papers into two neat piles in the passenger's seat ⎯ one for those she'd already gone through and one for those she hasn't yet gotten to. then, she puts her key into the ignition and pulls out of the little road.

as she drives down the street, she examines her surroundings once again. still as impoverished as before.

she passes a small farm house, eyes drawn to the old lady sitting on the porch. she's rocking back and forth rather ominously, making direct eye contact with ellie through the windshield. slowly, the woman nods her head toward where a large cross is staked into the soil of her front yard. ellie looks away, a sudden uneasiness washing over her as she presses harder on the gas.

she reaches her hotel a few minutes later, stuffing her papers under each arm before entering the building and heading toward the elevator. by the time she reaches her room, she practically rips her heavy leather jacket off, the yellow 'fbi' label bright and bold against the black material as she tosses it onto her bed. she sits cross-legged in the center of her room, laying out all the newspapers in front of her.

she continues to sort through them all, eyebrows furrowing as she comes to realize that all the victims are men.

she hurriedly flips through the documents, certain she must he wrong. but she's not. they're all male. ellie writes this down on her notepad, handwriting rushed and nigh unintelligible. despite the sloppiness, she circles it, sure it'll prove to be of importance later on.

by the time ellie finishes going through what feels like hundreds of papers, she decides that's enough for her to be able to find a pattern if there is one. the digital clock atop the nightstand reads 2am, flashing bright red numbers at her. she ignores it, too high off the thrill of finally finding something in this priorly monotonous case.

she pulls her laptop from her bag and flips it open atop her crossed legs, quick to pull up a map and type in the coordinates of each address. they appear random at first, completely fucking unrelated to one another. a pang of dread hits ellie in the chest, worried this will have all been for naught.

but then she zooms out.

each dot for each address glows blue. when zoomed out, it forms something. ellie squints, tilting her head at the incoherent image she struggles to make out. seeing as many of the papers weren't analyzed, the picture is only half-complete.

but then it clicks. a pentacle. and at the very center of the shape, a church.

ellie's mind goes back to the old woman on the porch. the way she'd nodded to her cross. the way almost every family in bluefeild is outwardly religious. she can't believe she hadn't seen it sooner.

this isn't just some case where she can stare at newspapers and hope something pops up. it's an intricately weaved web of murders.

her chest heaves as her eyes dart across the screen, unable to believe it. she finds herself tapping her men against the floor, drumming it just as joel does. she curses herself, tossing the pen across the room as her mind reels. it lands in front of the door, ballpoint pointed toward the exit. ellie takes this as a sign from the universe. despite not having ever been a religious person, she can't help the pang of hope in her chest.

deciding to indulge the pen's sign, ellie writes the church's address into her notepad, shuts her laptop, pulls her jacket back on, then heads for the door. she steps over the pen on her way out.

𝓢he stares up at the church, checking to make sure she's absolutely certain she's in the right place. when she's proven to be correct, she stuffs her notepad into her pocket and walks toward the building.

ellie doubts anybody is inside due to the time, but she wants to search the place regardless.

the church is old, creaky wooden exterior painted in uneven shades of white. the roof is brown and dilapidated with wear. atop it, a large cross is seen standing tall, its tip pointed up at the starry sky. ellie wades through the overgrown grass, her breath coming out in white clouds. it's fucking freezing out here.

when she reaches the building, ellie cups her hands around her eyes before peeking through the windows. the glass is dusty and cracked in some places. she can't seem to see through it, transparency made opaque from lack of maintenance.

she leans back and wipes a hand across the dust, forming a wide arc to peer through. inside, the church looks brand new. wooden pews line the space, a long aisle between each formed column. the floor is white tile, cleaned to be spotless. she tilts her head, struggling to look toward the pulpit. it appears to be⎯

"what're you doing?"

ellie jumps, her head slamming against the top of the window frame. she ignores the ache and whips around to face the owner of the voice. a nun.

you stand behind her with a raised brow, your entire body covered by black and white robes. ellie blinks, something about you making her stomach lurch. she's instantly put on edge, shameless in the way she examines your features.

your brow is knit in distaste for the trespassing girl. your eyes are sharp and steady as you pin your gaze onto hers. your hands are clasped behind your back, formal and almost robotic. or at least, that's how ellie sees you.

ellie reaches under her jacket and pulls out her badge. "fbi."

"there's no fbi in bluefeild." you point out, voice steady and melodic. ellie's lips part at the sound but she shows no other form of sway. you eye her badge, ellie williams. noted to be a top agent in her line of work. your eyes narrow. "where exactly are you from?"

"richmond." she responds, eyes never leaving yours as she places her badge back into the interior pocket in her leather jacket.

you tilt your head, inquiring. "virginia?"

"yes." she confirms.

you hum, noting the four hour drive she's sure to have taken in order to get here. you looks out across the grass, seeing her car still running as it's parked on the side of the road, yellow headlights acting as a beacon against the dark night.

"it's late, miss williams." you tell her, turning back to her to find that ellie's eyes have yet to leave your face.

she analyzes each expression you make, contorting every detail to memory ⎯ from the way your eyes flick across her features to the way your shoulders shift slightly after having been standing in one position for so long. she memorizes you, allowing your very being to sink into her mind. for the case, of course. you're a suspect, after all. she needs to learn you and feel you out in order to get a proper read on whether you're innocent in all this. that's why she stares at you. that's why her pupils are blown and her lips are parted again. totally.

"do you want to come inside?" you offer, raising a brow at her strange, yet obvious sense of interest in you. "it's freezing out here and i happen to have just brewed some tea."

her eyes dart to the shabby church behind her. judging by the exterior of the building, imagining the place having ac and working electricity is shocking. but judging by what she'd seen of the inside, she's tempted to take you up on your offer. for the case.

"only if y' agree to answer some questions of mine." she says, deciding to set the terms and conditions early on.

your eyes narrow, "what type of questions?"

"the type i need in order to solve the case i'm workin' on." she replies, reminding herself of the large amount of missing men and boys who've disappeared in these past three months.

"mm," you hum.

you look her up and down, taking in the sight of her. it's rare to see any form of law enforcement out here. you'd lived in bluefeild all your life and never seen a cop or fbi agent outside of the television. her leather coat hangs heavy from her set shoulders. her chin is held high despite the way goosebumps trail across her skin due to the chill of the air. she's wearing baggy black pants and heavy combat boots. interesting.

"sure." you shrug. "i've nothing to hide."

"we'll see 'bout that."

her eyes rake over to where he car remains running. she leaves it, using it as a sign to you that she plans to make this quick. you understand the gesture and heed it with care, nodding as you shift around her and walk toward the entrance of the church. the large wooden doors are already unlocked as you push them open.

ellie draws her eyes across the foyer, noting the long hallway. to the left is a doorway leading to the sanctuary and chancel that she'd seen through the windows. to the right is a large door with a shiny golden handle, locked. the hall is lined with more doors, some locked whilst others are free to peer into.

you move about the space as though you'd lived here all your life. ellie supposes that might be true, actually.

you sweep down the hall before turning one of the corners down a branched passageway. ellie follows behind you, the hall illuminated by only a dim yellow light. on either side of the hall, more and more doors branch out to the side. ellie pays no mind to the building's layout anymore. instead, she finds herself more interesting in watching your habit billow behind you, your shoes clicking with each step against the tile.

eventually, you're both now in a kitchen area. ellie hasn't a clue when you'd gotten here, far too distracted by you to care much for the journey you'd taken her on.

the floor is tiled to mirror the sanctuary, counters made of marble. you flick a switch and the lights flutter on, a low hum sounding from the ceiling as the kitchen is illuminated by a yellow glow. on the counter, two cups of tea sit premade. you grab them, one in each hand.

with an amused expression, you pass one to ellie. she takes it, eyes the glass in her hand for a long moment. in the end, she decides against trusting it.

"uh," she clears her throat as she places the mug on the counter behind her, turning to you with an uneasy weariness. "you knew you'd have a guest?"

"hm?" you hum, tilting your head at her with an innocent curiosity.

"y' made two glasses." ellie points out. you continue to look at her, feigning confusion that urges her to continue her explanation. "it's just— well, i haven't seen anyone else here besides you."

"i hadn't priorly known of your arrival, if that's what you're suggesting." you inform her before taking a long sip from your mug, peering at her over the rim with an alluring twinkle to your eye. you lower it, keeping the glass poised between your hands as you lick your lips and continue. "i simply knew i wouldn't be drinking alone."

"what's that supposed to mean?" ellie inquires, those fbi instincts of hers lacing through her tone. her eyes glint with piqued interest, watching you with a steady sharpness. it weighs on your chest, heavy but enthralling.

"what i mean is," you place your mug on the counter with a light clink. "in this church, you're never alone. not really."

she raises a brow, back straightening. "someone else is here?"

"something." you correct, a smirk tugging at your lips. "a deity, spirit, ghost, demon. take your pick, miss williams. it hasn't a title just yet."

ellie has surely formed her doubts about whether or not you're mentally insane. she can't help but indulges you nonetheless. if she intends on puzzling out the mystery of the missing people, she can't outwardly state that you're crazy. so instead, she says, "are these,, things good? or are they evil?"

"mm," you shift, taking another long sip of tea. you ponder on her question while drinking, your mind deciding on exactly how much you wish to tell this governmental investigator. once your mind is made up, you place you mug back down and flash her an amused smile. "its morality varies. as i said, it doesn't much like the feel of being confined by the barbed wire of titles. plus, there's more than one. and none are a repeat of the other, each separated by individuality."

ellie bites back a scoff, trying her hardest not to just grab you by the shoulders and shake you senseless. she wants direct answers, not riddles. she hasn't the time to figure out what you're trying to get at.

"how many?" she asks. "like. are there lots of them or are they few and far between?"

your brow knits as you take a step closer. at your growing proximity, her breath hitches. you are more than just a nun, you're the embodiment of her obsession. all the care and time she'd poured into this case; you personify it.

you're a religious figure in and of yourself. something worthy of worship and praise. if you were to seen by the world as ellie sees you, historians would be studying you for eons to come. paintings and playwrights would be made in your honor, temples and statues forged in hopes that you'd bat the sculptor even a moment of your attention.

but, alas, that's not how the world works. instead, you're made to be a random nun who lives holed away in a ragged church in the middle of nowhere. perhaps the universe had been wise to hide you from the world, for fear of what your divinity would cause. a repeat of troy, no doubt. wars fought for your hand. lives lost for the pulpy beating heart caged behind your ribs.

"as many as i'd like." you tell her, face now mere inches away from her own.

your body is covered entirely by your habit, black fabrics hanging from your shoulders and arms as to keep your entire being shielded from sight. your hair is cast back and under your veil.

despite the coverage, ellie's enamor is unmoved. it's not your body or your hair that she's drawn to. it's the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the color of your eyes. it's everything that makes you stand out like a brightly shining star in comparison to the dull darkness that is this church.

and stars like you ought to be admired.

"as many as—" she squeezes her eyes shut, knowing her only chance at regaining control of her head is to not face you. her mind is muddled by thoughts of you. she can't think straight. when she reopens her eyes, she could've sworn you've moved closer. "what're you sayin'? i don't—"

"don't understand?" you finish for her, tone pitched in regalement. your head tilts to the side, your noses brushing. "few people do."

"just tell me what y' mean." she utters, voice a whispered breath across your face in the form of a plea. "tell me without the riddles. tell me without trying to evade the truth. tell me with honesty. if you're straight forward with me, i'm sure i'll understand."

you sigh through your nose, leaning away from her. she follows you like a fish on a hook. you take a step back and she takes one forward. noticing, you hold a hand up to halt her movements and she instantly ceases, blinking at you with parted lips.

your head is downcast, palm against her chest. "you'd hate me."

"hate you?" she questions.

despite only just having met you, ellie is quite certain she'd never come to hate you. your very being is as much a wonder to her as life itself. you're a celestial beauty she cannot bear to tear her eyes from. hate is foreign when you're the context in which it's spoken.

"yes." you confirm, expression contorting into one of feigned guilt. and, had ellie not been in such blind awe of you, she'd have likely seen through your facade of deception. "i've made mistakes; plenty. i could never expect you to hear me speak of them and look past their malice."

"but i would." she whispers, taking a step nearer. she places a hand on your wrist, lowering your palm that had priorly been raised between the two of you. she looks down at where she touches you, albeit through the cloth of your gown. "i'd look past it. i'd see you as i do now regardless of what you'd done."

you shake your head, "you cannot mean that."

"i do." she brings your hand to her mouth, pressing her lips against the hills of your knuckles. she looks up at you through her lashes, her mouth remaining close to your skin as she whispers, "i do mean it."

you feel guilt settle deep within your chest, burrowing between your ribs and in the very tissue of your heart. an immoral darkness encompasses the organ ellie so desperately desires to obtain.

you'd lured people into your entrapment many times before. but something about ellie makes you feel bad for doing what you know you need to.

but it's too late now.

she's your last victim. the final sacrifice needed in order to finish what you'd started back in december. after taking her life, all will be well. all will be well. all will be well. well, well, well, well. you repeat this over and over in your mind as ellie kneels before you. she looks up at you as though you're an alter made for this. for worship.

your breath catches in your throat as you watch her sink to the tiled flooring, hands brought up to rest at your hips. her fingers fist the fabric of your habit as she speaks once more, "allow me to prove how much i mean it?"

your head is swimming, unsure on what to do. logically, you know you should stop this before it gets too far. you've already lured her in close enough to do what's needed. but, for some reason, there's a thick knot forming in your chest. as it grows, you come to realize it's not a knot at all. it's a fist. it's ellie's fist.

her eyes bore into your own, her hands remain gripping your hips. somehow, though, you feel as though they're managing to trace their way through you. they line your bones and caress your tendons before inevitably finding their way to your heart. she holds it in the palm of her figurative hands as her physical ones begin to hike up your habit, slowly pulling the cloak up from the floor.

still, despite the discernible desire in her eyes, she does nothing but wait for your response of consent.

it's inexorable, the way you give in. the slight nod of your head had been predestined from the moment you spotted her at that window; and it will continue to prove relevant until your respective faits are sealed.

to ellie, it felt as though you'd taken hours to reply despite it only having been a minute or less. but the moment you nod, she's moving eagerly. she's grabbing your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter whilst simultaneously struggling to pull up the skirts of your clothes. she's trying to do so many things at once that it's dizzying. for both parties.

you aid her, shifting atop the marble as you pull the habit up to reveal what lies beneath it.

ellie feels the world fall from beneath her knelt locale as she stares. a pair of black lace panties adorn you, the upper half of your body remaining covered by the bunched cloth of your habit. the time she takes to memorize you feels agonizing as you sit there, itching to feel her body on yours.

once she's confident that the image has been successfully engraved into her mind, she leans forward. your legs are already parted when her mouth makes contact with your clothed vulva. the wetness that soaks the material soon made into a mixture of your arousal and ellie's opened mouth.

her tongue traces light circles into your clit, a soft sigh escaping your lips as your grip on your habit begins to loosen. you toss your head back in pleasure, the sound of ellie's slurping and licking mixing with the mechanical hum of the lights.

"ohmygod," she says against you, the vibrations of her voice making your breath pick up its pace. "you're so fucking perfect."

one of your hands comes down to tangle in the auburn of her hair, tufts weaving between your shaky fingers. you tug on it, pulling a grunt form the back of ellie's throat as her scalp stings. despite her noise of pain, this only manages to make ellie more vehement in her actions.

she grabs the hem of your panties with her teeth, yanking them to the side. her eyes are shut as she licks a long strip through your wet muscle. you can’t help the way you stare down at her, watching as she puts her absolute all into making you feel good. and, as it turns out, she’s quite skilled at doing so.

ellie's mind is fogged over, mimicking the way her car's windows had been earlier. she supposes there’s no true difference there, however. the interior of her car had been warm in comparison to the cool outside air. swap the temperatures and there’s naught that varies. the warmth that you provide makes ellie feel cold in contrast, which ends in a fogged mind.

the taste of you is enough to make her lose whatever sanity remains intact. all that adrenaline that had flowed through her earlier is being poured into you.

after all, stars should be worshipped right? they should be admired from below, gawked up at. they should be mapped and studied by only the wisest of mankind. they should be doted on with a possessive sense of adoration, one only fit for something so celestial and untouchable as a star.

and that's what you are. to ellie, at least. you're a brightly shining nebula — a feathery cloud of vibrancy, visible only in the darkest of nights. only in the coldest of weathers. only in most decrepit of churches. only here, only now.

only when fate is carved in this exact way. had one thing been altered, none of this would have taken place. it was providence that brought you together. you weren't written in the stars or tethered your entire lives. in fact, the chance of your paths crossing was rather low. but, honestly, that only makes your acquaintance more deeply rooted in kismet. makes it more special.

"fuck," you pant, chest heaving as you squeeze your eyes shut. your head thuds against the cabinet as you tighten your grip on ellie's hair. she groans, fingers pressing deeply into the skin of your hips, hard enough to leave a bruise. your thighs tighten around her head, a coil of heat sitting heavily in the pit of your stomach. "ellie, i'm—"

she tilts her head up slightly, nose pressing into the bead of your clit. she watches through lidded eyes as you come undone onto her face.

she savors it, committing every little detail to memory. a habit this has become, watching you. your brows knit, your legs shake slightly, you breath hitches. and ellie retains all to it.

she made you see stars. made you look into a mirror and see yourself.

that feeling of blissful release is what she feels every time she's fortunate enough to gaze upon you. and now you've experienced it. and she cannot feel more accomplished than she does right now.

"this," you pant, tugging on her hair to bring her face up to your own. she does as you direct her, standing from the floor to press your foreheads together. "was a terrible idea."

"yeah?" she breathes out. "and why's that?"

you run your hands up and down her back, fingertips tracing the stitching of her leather jacket. you can feel the outlined letters of her 'fbi' label. that familiar twinge of guilt encircles you.

she's a good person — a woman who's to spend the rest of her life helping random people she doesn't know. and yet, here she is. made unfortunate enough to have succeeded in her endeavor.

she stares at you like you're a god, something heavenly. something seraphic. something worthy of her.

"i'm not a good person." you whisper, leaning away from her proximity. predictably, she follows, leaning closer with a desperation only fit for one in love.

the guilt of what you must do is eating you alive. it claws at your chest, snapping your ribs like twigs as it wedges between them to burrow deep within you. it's agonizing yet completely unavoidable.

and in a sickeningly poetic outturn, a random butcher knife is sat neatly atop the marble counter only a foot away from where you sit. just as ellie meets your eyes, the blade happens to catch the light and reflect yellow luminescence. a grotesque reminder of what you're unable to run from.

"nobody is innately good. and, as a nun, y' should know that better than anyone." ellie huffs out a laugh, eyes not daring to stray from you. "in other words, i don't care."

"but you should." you insist, voice teetering on the edge of plea.

"and yet, i don't." ellie counters, just as passionate in her solemnity. you suck in a breath, eyes glossing over. she looks at you with a fondness that feels foreign. she cups your cheeks between her palms, repeating, "i don't."

"i've done horrible things." you say.

"you're a nun." she points out with a light chuckle rumbling her chest. "how horrible could these things have been?"

part of you wants to open up to her, tell her everything that's been weighing on you for these past three months. but each time you get close to a confession, something inanimately symbolic taunts you. whether that be the butcher knife, the hum of electricity, the gun holster at her hip, the residual lust in your chest, or the bright yellow lettering on her jacket.

that gun is meant for you just as that butcher knife is meant for ellie. she'd been wise to bring a weapon, a clear sign that she'd intended on finding someone culpable enough to suspect. and you'd been wise to set the blade atop the counter on the off chance that you'd meet your final victim tonight.

you feel sick to your stomach.

"oh shit," ellie curses as she takes notice to the way you're visibly crumbling in front of her. "i— uh, i didn't mean to be, like, insensitive or anythin'. i'll still listen to you. and i promise to not hate you. promise to never hate you."

"ellie, stop." you sigh. "you can't promise something like that. you don't even know what i—"

"then tell me." she insists, your face still in her cupped hands. you look at her through blurred vision, naught but sincerity behind her pale green irises. "if y' tell me what it is that y' did, we can both carry the burden."

you're instantly shaking your head.

"you don't have to do this alone." ellie says. "plus, isn't a weight split a lighter load than one full?"

as you stare into her eyes, you can't stop yourself from what comes next. you're unable to keep your mouth shut when she's looking at you like that. you decide to tell her, opening your ribs and bearing your heart as though she hadn't already taken it from you. you truly feel more bare in this moment than you did when she'd literally been eating you out.

ellie put her entire trust into you when letting down her guard and abandoning the case she'd obsessed over for weeks. she dropped it like it were nothing, focusing entirely on you in its stead. the least you could do is be honest, right? plus, she's not leaving here anyway. you'd locked the door the moment you two entered the kitchen when she'd been too distracted by your beauty to notice. the trap is already set and she's sitting inside of it without a care. all you need to do now is pull the strings.

but first comes honesty.

for ellie, you'd peel off your clothes. you'd peel off your skin. you'd peel off your flesh. then, when you're naught but bones, you'd give yourself to her. you'd give your entire being to her. not because you think you're worthy of her possession, but because this is all you have. the only thing you're able to offer her as a symbol of your devotion, it's yourself.

though, while you're unable to strip yourself clean off your bones, you feel as though rendering yourself vulnerable and fragile is the next best thing you can offer. for her, you are willing to do the priorly unthinkable.

"you're here in search of the missing men, are you not?" you ask, beginning with baby steps. "in search of who's behind their absences?"

ellie straightens, "i am."

"well." you gesture down at yourself. at your crooked veil that shows stray hairs peeking from underneath; at your hiked up habit, just barely falling to cover your underwear; at your knees that rest on either side of ellie's waist; at your vulnerable state that you're offering up to her. at your bones. "you've found me."

ellie's heart stutters in her chest. not because of what you'd revealed to her, but because you trusted her enough to do so. she no longer cares an ounce for the missing people of bluefeild. all she wants is you. she may be a fool to be this way, but she's in far too deep to mind.

she gives you a weak smile, "i don't care."

"what?" you croak. you stare at her incredulously. there's no way she doesn't care. there's no fucking way. "yes you do."

"i don't."

you blink, looking her up and down. there must be something you're missing — her reaching for her gun, her taking a step backward, her eyes darting toward the knife. but she does none of that. she simply remains stood between your legs, keeps her hands on you, and stares directly into your eyes as you confess your gravest of sins.

"but—" you shake your head, stammering. "but i killed all those people. they're dead. all of them. over two hundred men are buried behind the church."

"i don't care." she repeats, noticing the way your voice raises with trepidation. she traces her hands down your arms, stopping only when they reach your own. she tangles your fingers together, feeling the way your body relaxes slightly to the feel of her touch.

"i killed them because i was paid to." you tell her, your mind reeling as you're unable to grasp her lack of care. you talk in a frantic quickness, rushing to get the truth out for fear that ellie will change her mind in the time it takes for you to speak. "their wives, neighbors, daughters. they— they'd come to me in the confession booths and tell me of the men's abuse o-or assault or misdeeds. and i'd kill them for them. i don't—"

ellie's face remains soft. "you did a good thing, then."

"you can't be serious." you huff, eyes watering with the sheer confusion building within you. "i don't understand how you can still look at me like that. i took their lives. these people, i— they had dreams, they had aspirations and goals and families and—"

"listen," ellie whispers, her hands squeezing yours. "they were horrible people that hurt women. they were abusers and rapists and i don't care what y' did to them or how. all i care about is whether or not y' feel better."

"what?" you ask, voice nigh a breath. "what do you mean feel better?"

"to have gotten that off your chest." she digresses.

you take a deep breath, grounding yourself. the adrenaline of the confession slowly dwindles and you're no longer spiraling. you stare at ellie, centering on her face as the world comes back into focus.

you count your senses one by one. the smell of tea, the sound of humming lights, the feel of a hard counter beneath you, the taste of a bitter truth, the sight of ellie's fond expression. your breathing levels out, slowly but surely. and ellie stares at you the entire time. memorizing you.

"yeah." you whisper. "yeah, i do."

"then that's all that matters."

a supernova; to watch a star combust and explode, a colossally significant occurrence that only the most fortunate are able to witness. ellie considers herself to be substantially fortunate. not only because of what she'd just seen, but because of who it was that did it.

to her, this is even better than a natural supernova. rather than watching a random gassy ball of light die, its you. someone she adores and treasures. and you didn't die. instead, you opens yourself willingly to her. you broke down your walls and bore yourself to her. for ellie, that is far more important than some star's death.

"but—" you say, bringing her attention back to your face. your brows are knitted, clearly struggling to get the words out. she watches you with an easy patience, pupils blown as she submits this to her memory alongside all other files in her brain saved under your name. "but there's more."

"let's hear it." she replies, raising a brow.

you suck in a deep breath, lowering your head as to not face ellie before speaking. "i didn't just start killing whatever men that these women were asking of me. it started smaller. i killed animals, put them in a circle of salt, drew and pentagram, the whole ordeal."

"you sacrificed them?" she asks, tone remaining laced with gentility.

"yes." you nod. "i felt my baptism wasn't enough. god never answered me anyway, he never aided me when i needed it most. he watched my suffering and did nothing. so, i resorted to a new deity of worship." you lift your gaze to meet ellie's. "satanism."

"i'm sorry, i don't—" she blinks a few times, confused. "i don't understand."

"as a child, i relied on god to do everything. my life was nothing without him in it to keep me going. but as i grew, i realized it was unrequited. he cared nothing for me, watching with regale as i sobbed and begged for his help." you explain. "so, as a teenager, i switched over to satanism — worship of someone who actually cared enough to save me."

ellie says nothing, staying silent as you confide in her. she continues to hold your hands, softly cradling them on either side of where you sit.

"but then he wished for payment." you continue. "sacrificial lives as a form of repent for all those years i'd spent as a baptist. i obliged, of course. i killed bunnies and deer, doing research to understand how exactly to offer the stolen lives to him. but as of late, he's wanted more."

"humans." ellie guesses.

"yeah." you confirm. "but i couldn't bring myself to kill random innocent people. so i became a nun and listened in on the confession booths. then, i'd ask the confessors if they wished for me to intervene. they'd concur, paying me to take the lives of their abusers." you recall the fear in the women's voices, the shakiness to their hands as they slipped money through the cracks of the door. "they never saw my face, only heard my voice. and, seeing as i live in the church, none of the recognized me. i soon became a symbol of hope for women and one of fear for men."

ellie's mind strays back to all the religious symbols staked in the yards. "that explains their heavy faith. they think you're some type of prophet."

"yeah, but there's more." you say. "i've researched many, many books to make sure i get this ritual right. and, as it turns out, my 250th victim has to be a martyr. someone who doesn't believe in anything. doing this seals the ritual, ending it."

"good luck finding someone here who meets that criteria." she chuckles.

"exactly." you say carefully. "everyone in bluefield is heavily religious. unless that someone has come from out of town."

"me."

"i wish it wasn't." you rush to explain. "i wish there was some other way i could do this. but it has to be today. i need to do it before another woman comes in asking for my help or the numbers will get thrown off. and if i decline her, i'll lose the faith of all the women in bluefeild."

"okay," ellie shrugs. "do it."

"...what?"

"i don't care." ellie says, the sentence becoming something of a catchphrase for her.

the world stops. again. it screeches to a halt and you almost slam forward at the speed of which it crashed down. you stare at ellie with wide eyes, made shocked by her for a second time. someone so hauntingly perfect cannot truly offer herself up to you like this. she can't seriously be holding out her hand, asking for death to take it.

but what you don't know is that ellie would deem it a gift to die by your hand. it'd be better than dying as a withered elder attached to a beeping machine, or as an agent amid a case who only got to see you in her dreams.

but, this way, she'd be with you always. her love for you would be immortalized; she would be tied down to the very threads that make up the the fabrications of your soul. oh a gift that would be.

"do it." she repeats.

"what?, i don't—" she silences you by leaning forward, pressing her lips against yours.

ellie had kissed you out of impulse, knowing no other way to silence that thundering uncertainty that rumbles your brain. but the moment she does it, she's positive she'll never be able to pull away.

your lips are a cathedral of which she cannot help but melt into, your body a temple she's knelt before and wouldn't hesitate to do again. she kisses you with devout piety, her body molding into yours with each touch that lingers on your skin. somehow, this measly kiss is far more intimate than all else before it.

a silent tear slips from your closed eye as you subtly reach your hand over to where you know the butcher knife lies in wait. ellie surely feels your movement, there's no way she doesn't. but she makes no move to stop kissing you, her lips moving with a vehement neediness.

you loathe the way your fingers find the hilt of the knife. even more so, you despise the way you wrap your hand around it and bring it toward ellie.

she knows. she knows what you're about to do.

and she allows it.

love isn't easy for ellie, never had been. but with you, everything falls into place as though it'd been predestined to do so her entire life. as she feels your body shift toward the knife, nothing runs through her mind aside from your name. on repeat, the singular word replays over and over. she wraps your name around her skull, weaving the letters between her thoughts and molding the syllables against her brain. she was born to love you. and so long as she was able to do so, she'd be okay.

just as the tip of the blade brushes her jacket, you pull away from the kiss and stare at her. the knife remains at her back, resting against leather but not daring to press any harder. ellie's pupils are blown, her lips wet from your own saliva.

"i can't." you utter. "i can't do this to you."

she sighs, "i already told you it's fine, angel. just— as long as i have you near me, i'm content with my decision."

"no." you shake your head. "no i know. it's—" knowing ellie wouldn't understand your explanation, you decide to show her what you mean. with your free hand, you place your palm against her gun holster. "whatever you go through, i want to be there with you."

her eyes widen at your words. she jolts away from you, appearing as though she'd been burned. she sets her jaw, turning her hip away from your reach. "no."

"ellie, please." you implore, tone beseeching. "i can't live on knowing i'd done this to you."

"it's unavoidable." she reminds you. "y' made a deal with the fuckin' devil, or, well— i'm honestly not too sure on the details, but— y' can't not follow through. i understand, okay? finish the damn ritual and live your life."

"i don't want to." you plead with her. "not without you."

she shakes her head, eyes glossing over. despite the evident distaste, her refusal is weak. she stands only a foot away from you, seeming as though she's physically incapable of moving any farther.

"ellie," you say, whispering her name like a prayer. she can't help but look up at you through watery eyes. "ellie, please."

"i don't want you to die." she says, voice nigh a whimper.

"we'll be together, ellie," you tell her, hopping down from the counter to approach her. the blade remains in your hand, long forgotten to the both of you as the sight of the other is far more appealing. "if we do this, we can be together for all of eternity. they'll find our fossils in a million years, bones entwined. they won't even know who's who."

she chokes out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "god, how stupid would that be?"

you laugh with her, "so stupid."

you're both crying now, tears streaming down your faces as you stare at one another. slowly, ellie pulls the gun from her holster. she's unsure on how this will go down, but she's willing to try. for you.

to be loved is a horrific thing, you've found. it's to be swallowed whole by something so disgustingly beautiful that you're incapable of turning away.

ellie takes a step closer, the distance between the two of you closing. her left hand holds the gun, her right hand coming up to wrap an arm behind your neck. she pulls your toward her, pressing another kiss to your mouth.

your tears mingle, forming a salty sea on your touching cheeks. you sob against her, chest heaving as you pull her closer with one hand, the other holding the knife. she tastes of sacrilege, salvation, and sacrifice. the ghosts that will haunt this decrepit church until the end of time. together.

whatever string that pulled the two of you toward each other will be knotted, tying two lost souls in search of the other.

"ellie," you whisper between wet kisses, lifting the knife to rest at the nape of her neck, "it's time."

she lets out a sob, a convulsive gasp tearing from her throat. "okay,"

you count down, the two of you agreeing to do it at the same time. you'll drive the blade into her neck whilst she pulls the trigger. your bodies will fall in unison, clinging to one another.

when you reach one, you sink the blade into her with a sickening squelsh. she chokes, dropping the pistol to the floor. it lands with a loud clank moments before her body falls with a thud. your eyes widen, heart ceasing. blood pools onto the white tiles and only one thought runs through your mind: she didn't pull the trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger.

she

didn't

pull

the

trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't—

you fall to your knees beside her, hands coming to cradle her bloodied face. you pull her head into your lap, rocking back and forth as crimson soaks into the black fabric of your habit. you clutch her tightly against you, pressing hard on her slit neck, willing the blood to go back inside.

death doesn't take her hand. instead, he grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her for the untimely demise she'd agreed to. the heart she'd taken from you rattles. the death rattle. you choke out a sob at the sound, everything aching.

you lean forward, pressing a kiss to her cold, dead lips. she doesn't kiss you back. you pull away, panting hard as your chest heaves and your eyes burn.

then, in the corner of your eye, you see the metal of ellie's pistol. you crawl across the kitchen toward the weapon, realizing she hadn't even cocked it. god, how had you been so stupid? you do it for her, loading the bullets into the chamber.

with the gun now in your possession, you crawl back over to ellie.

you position yourself atop her, entwining your legs and placing your head on her chest. it doesn't rise nor fall, no beating heard from beneath her ribs. you sob, placing the gun's barrel to the soft part of your chin.

then, without another thought, you pull the trigger. you pull it because ellie was unable. because ellie couldn't bear to do it for you. a part of you resents her for this, but another part can't feel anything for her aside from utmost love.

and there lie two bodies. lifeless.

ellie found what she'd been searching for all her life: something worthy of her devotion. something she can pour her all into. that had been why she became an fbi agent in the first place — in search something to worship whole heartedly. simultaneously, you'd found what you'd been searching for as well: peace.

in the end, however, it had all been for naught.

the ritual didn't work.

it needed someone faithless, someone who didn't care for religion, for god. but that wasn't ellie. not anymore, at least. because, after having met you, she'd finally found something worth her revere.

you were her religion.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist. @luvsturniolo @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @elliessweetheart @kasqnxx @xlovla

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 additional note. i want this to be said here because i know this piece is super fucking heavy. ellie and the reader's relationship is so fucking toxic. anyone who reads this, i hope you realize how absolutely horrific their love story truly is. there's a shit ton of symbolism weaved within this story that i didn't outwardly state (though most of it i blatantly explained). if u have any questions regarding this piece, i'd love to talk about it bc i put a lot of time into making it.

but, again, their relationship is TOXICCCCCCCCCC!!!!!! it's not meant to be idolized or romanticized in any way. if you didn't notice, i barely used the word 'love' and never made either of them say 'i love you'. that was for a reason!!!! because what they share isn't love. it's unhealthy obsession & i need that to be outwardly said before i post this

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fiddlesqueak-fables · 15 days ago

Text

I’ve worked very hard to bring to you a series of Fromsoftware acrylic keychains, now available for preorder!

Each Large keychain is 2.5 inches, while each Mini keychain is a whopping 1 inch.

Note, Mild-Mannered Pate is slightly smaller, simply so he will look proportional next to Creighton and his big stupid axe—and thus is discounted.

________

‘Why preorder?’

I’m right out of college and trying to make my artwork into my full-time career. At this moment while just starting out, I can’t afford to order all my things ahead of time. however, if just two people order the same characters keychain, I will be able to manufacture that keychain with a profit!

‘What happens if I am the only one who buys a keychain?’

You will still get your keychain, I will just lose money :,)

‘What happens if the keychains don’t look like how they’re advertised in the listing?’

I plan to send buyers a picture of the keychain when it arrives from the manufacturer to make sure it’s fitting in with expectations! If not, they will be refunded.

‘How long will the keychains takes to arrive?’

Around 2-3 Weeks if your are the first to pre-order, much shorter if not! If you are first, thank you so much for your brave sacrifice.

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shadebloopnik · 10 months ago

Text

HAZBIN SPOILERS SORTA?

I love how its sort of major agreement that Alastor would betray the whole cast. Kinda wanna see him create an exchange that would be sorta seen as unforgivable, make sacrifices just to free himself, but ALSO wrestle with the realization that he's slowly grown to care about them.

This is gonna sound so off base but

Okay, picture this, Lilith as the big bad(or at least some villain) and she's holding Alastor's leash. Imagine them facing off, and Alastor finally uses his deal with Charlie. He said she wouldn't have to harm anyone, and he doesn't own her soul, so how could he use it perhaps? Imagine he tells her to stay still.

To just. Stay still.

No matter what happens, that she'd be glued to the spot, unable to move of her own volition.

And she's frozen, he's behind her, a claw at her throat, tendrils pointing at her, threatening to rip her apart.

And he's staring Lilith right in the eye, daring her, daring her.

He offers to let Charlie live i exchange for his freedom, to unclip his wings lest she wants her daughter dead.

Imagine she speaks, after a long moment of silence, and just goes.

"Go ahead."

He freezes, claws tightening around Charlie's throat, not daring to look at the tears he can feel drip down his hand.

"What's taking so long? How bout I do it myself." Lilith would say, charging at him, aiming her weapon to stab both of them at once.

And Alastor moves to the side....

....carrying Charlie with him.

Imagine him taking a few seconds realizing what he's done, frozen on the spot, Charlie curling up in his arms.

Imagine the agonizing, sickening, disgusting, horrifying realization that he just...he can't. He cant kill her. He won't.

Imagine him looking up maybe to see the rest of the cast. Imagine him meeting Husk's eyes, seeing the cat's face of disbelief and shock at reading the Radio Demon's eyes.

Imagine realizing he can't just kill any of them, not without hurting himself too.

You know

Just

Imagine

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thatfrailsoul · 2 months ago

Text

– The one dear to your heart

tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )

( pictures from pinterest : one, two, three )

For your every step closer, guided by the purest and most genuine and loving intentions, filled with the only desire to maintain and nourish this bond... There are always more steps further, far away from you, that they make frenetically, putting even more distance between your hearts, willingly tearing this connection apart... So is it even worth it? To fight for someone that seems to do so much just to hurt you and push you away? Is it really worth it, to be so patient, to try so hard to adapt or get used to their ways? Or is your hope that all of this is just a big misunderstanding that hides their desire to have you in their life... Just a dream that will never be realised?

Slow down for a moment. Give your mind a moment of rest, allow it to step back. And listen to your heart instead, to that inner voice, to the intuition that is guiding you to the pile in which your message hides.

And if you have a moment to spare before scrolling down to your message, there is something that I would be really grateful to know your opinion about, so I can make this blog as comfortable as possible.♡

Are the previews/ descriptions at the beginning of a pick a pile reading as this one helpful? Are they able to let you know what this reading will be about and if you are interested in it? Or is this something that is not necessary, or even too much for you? Would you prefer to have a shorter "intro" to a reading, perhaps in form of the questions that we will answer in that post? Or is it more comfortable for you to don't have any intro at all?

Thank you so much for letting me know! ♡

– Pile One,

the hanged man, the seven of swords, the two of swords

There is so much love, true and genuine affection in your heart. There is so much that you feel towards them, so much that you have and are ready to give to them, only to protect them and make them feel safe by your side... There is so much in your eyes when your gaze meets theirs, that is simply impossible to not understand it. It is impossible for them to not be aware of how much they are important to you, the place that they already have in your heart...

But it is also in the same way impossible for them to not be aware of how dangerous it is for you. To be so ready to sacrifice so much of yourself for someone that keeps on pushing you back. They can't ignore how not right it is, to accept such a genuine attention, even if it heals their wounds and scars. They know that they don't deserve, they are simply not ready, to be the one that your heart cares for so much.

They are aware of it, they understand it so well, they never would want to make you go through so much... But at the same time it is the only way that they know to be efficient, in protecting those that they are hurting, even when it's what they least desire. It's the only way that they have enough strength and courage for. The easiest one to make you understand how dangerous and wrong it is for you to stay by their side.

They are honest, for once, they are showing simply and truly who they are, what is going on in their mind and their heart right now. They are showing it all to you, just the way it is, so confusing, so complicated, so painful and so wrong. They do so in hopes that you understand it yourself, that you let go on you own...

Because there isn't any play in place, there aren't any lies or deeper secrets and realities, perhaps emotions that you still hope to find. There is only a really tired and confused soul, that is going through so much, but that really wants to work on it... on their own. So they don't hurt anyone in the meantime, so they don't feel guilty for something that they did without realising, for the promises that they were not able to respect for one reason or another... Just so they can manage and be responsible only for them, what they do only to themselves, not to others that don't deserve to go through it at all.

But your affection, your care and almost annoying hope and patience with them... Is so difficult to deal with. Because you simply refuse to listen to their honest words, you don't want to see the reality of their actions that are trying to show you what it means to be a part of their current world.

It is not meannes just for the sake of it, it's true. They are trying to protect you, even if in such a wrong and hurtful way. But not for this reason it is not real or it should be ignored. They are being honest with you, and they are waiting for you to push them back. Not because they are secretly wanting to have you by their side, helping them change themselves or their life... But just because you hold onto them so strongly, no matter what... Making it the only possible way to make you let go of them - making you do so on your own.

It is time now. It truly is. You did so much for them and for this connection, no matter what type of relationship it was, if there was any at all... but you did it. You ripped open your heart and showed them how much you can love and care, how much you are willing to do for someone that is a part of your life. And they did the exact same. They showed you who they are so many times... And it is the moment for you to accept it and surrender to it truly, even if it is so different from what you convince yourself them to be. There is nothing more to it. There is nothing else that they or this connection could be.

Listen for once their answers to your silent questions, see them in their actions that are so real and painful every single time. Listen to them and understand that this is not your battle, it is not your sacrifice, it is not what you deserve. Even if you care for them so much.

For once they are doing something to help you and protect you. And if there is a good moment to accept the hurt that they gave you... It is now. To accept it, understand it, and never allow it to happen again to your already tired heart.

It is enough, you did your best. And it is time to let them go now, because this is exactly what they want, this is what they are pushing you to do for already a really long time.

P.s. And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

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– Pile Two,

the strength, the hierophant, the sun

Fortunately... There is so much more to this bond, to you and them, to your paths that so often drift apart only to realign. There is so much more to this confusion, to these ups and downs, to these questions that are filling your mind each time they are by your side. There is so much more. And incredibly enough, even after all these struggles and conflicts, you are still ready for it...

You are still ready to do it. You are still ready and willing to wait, to be patient, to do your best to understand or to make them understand.

It never changed anything, not the uncertainties, not the distance, not the misunderstandings. Nothing was ever strong or bad enough to make you even consider the idea to push them away once and for all. It isn't just any relationship, any person... It is someone that for so long was such an important part of your life, of your days and what overwhelmed your heart and mind. You learned so much thanks to them, or because of them... You grew up, you experienced things that you are sure you never would've done if it wasn't for them holding your hand every time... They did so much for you, unconsciously, without even realising it. And although you always tried to do the same for them from the very start, always tried to care for them and keep them safe, even if from themselves...they never really accepted it back. Never let you closer, or to be exact, never admitted that you are already closer than they perhaps would like to say out loud. And not only because of your care for them, but especially because of their affection to you as well... Even if it so hidden under their ways that not many would understand...

But things will start to change now, one step at a time. You will start to see their heart open up, giving you finally those answers that you never were able to find, even though you tried to have at least a vague idea of what is going on in their mind. They will show it themselves, introduce you to their soul, the one that they hid so well and for so long from everyone. That deeper understanding and connection, that oppeness and honesty, that clarity in your interactions and moments... It will finally be all here. Simply because for once and truly they will realise that there was nothing to be afraid of. That there is nothing bad in your intentions to be by their side and take care of them, be there for them, the same way they did for you when you needed it so bad.

You met them in an interesting phase of their life, in a moment of deep transformation, changes and shifts one after another. So many ups and downs that were simply too much. Enough to make them dizzy, confused about their own desires and life. It wasn't intentional, but they did pull you right in the center of it all, of the storm of all their emotions that made them so strange and every time different in how they treated others, and you of all. But it is coming to an end now, good or bad it doesn't matter. It is enough the fact itself that they will regain their balance, their peace of mind. They will be able to breathe deeply, with more serenity. They will be more relaxed, with each smile. It will be almost like a whole new person. Someone of whom you only saw some glimpses, in those times where they were so caring and sweet contrary to their usual self at that time...

And it will be all worth it. Your hope and endurance, your conviction that there was more to this person and their story, then just a bad character and negative intentions. There was more than just a desire to hurt others and push them back. There was always been a whole hidden world and story, so intimate and so difficult to share... But that they will finally tell you about. Because in the softest and most tender way you earned it, their gratefulness and trust. Because you cared for them and were patient, even when they themselves where not aware of needing it so much.

P.s. And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

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– Pile Three,

the page of coins, the ten of coins, the king of swords

Your care for them, your affection, was always so consistent, so genuine and deep since the very beginning of this bond. Since the very first time that you felt truly connected to them, in that moment so simple and intimate but that showed you how much your minds and hearts are aligned...

But as beautiful and meaningful as it was... it was just a single moment. Just one moment that was enough for you to be sure to want to get to know more about them, to get closer to them and to connect more. But also just one moment in which it ever happened. That understanding and spark between you that never appeared again, no matter how much you waited.

Time after time, challenge after challenge, no matter what they did or how much distance they put between your hearts, you always continued to look for them. For that person and soul that you felt in that one single moment... But that they kept on hiding so well no matter what.

It wasn't really a lie or an act meant to mislead you... but it was something that is not in their character. To be so free and open and close to someone. It isn't something that they do so easily or so often. And you know it well now, after not being ever able to see them this way again no matter how much you waited for them to "come back".

It became an unintentional bait. It made you care and look for someone that you felt so special and worth it, just because of that one moment of deep and unexpected connection, nourished by those little tiny bits of gentleness that you heard in their voice, saw in their gaze that met yours every time... But that safety, that fake openness and closeness that confused you so many times, was just a consequence to all the affection and care that you gave them. It was only them feeling comfortable in the safe space that you created for them in your heart. It was just a slight nourishment of something that they never wanted to take seriously, but that still was so sweet to feel and have around sometimes.

Your affection and desire of closeness was so genuine and honest... but they used it to create something so complicated and consuming, something that takes so much of you and gives so much to them. Every time they need it. A constant source of understanding, of patience, of excuses and protection to them and their actions. So much for so little, so convenient for them to have by their side... They transformed something so pure into something so calculated and 'useful', so easy to take or to put aside... but they won't be able to do it for much longer now. Not when you, as they consume you, are starting to ask the right questions, allowing your mind to take control of the situation that went on for too long.

Hold on to those thoughts, those observations, those questions and doubts that fill your mind every time they decide that they don't want to be around you now. Hold onto those fears of being just an option, someone that comes and goes, someone that they just keep here for fun... because all of this can't possibly be just overthinking. It has a deeper meaning and you know it too. You know it because you wouldn't be here reading these words, feeling this sadness, this grip on your heart if it wasn't so.

It is time to be the one that puts some space between you. But not just for a moment, just because of a whim, like they love so much to do once in a while... Do it intentionally, do it to protect yourself, to honour yourself and your pure heart that gave so many chances, so much time, to someone that used it only to play around. No matter the circumstance, the situation, the relationship... it is just not right. To be treated this way, to receive so little, when you gift so much of yourself every single time.

P.s. And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) - you can find out more about it here!♡

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