#It wass long
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
medicalunprofessional · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
never change, man !
#phantom of the paradise#potp#swan potp#nightmaretheater#65 layers and about 24 hours . Eeeyyuppp#Look into my beautiful mind boy#Its a bit unusual to what i usually draw#but i had to push a specific look for this piece#hopefully you all are picking up on the corperate look . the advertisment look#Sneeze. Anyways my point is industry destroys creative people. This includes swan#I feel like phrases like these ; how he was put on a pedistal…. it lead him to be Like That#as awful as he is he desperately needed help#it might seem like vanity on the surface#but i think its… more than that#long story short: we need to destroy the beauty industry. the skincare industry. the anti-aging industry#It ruined his psyche forever and he cant let go of the ideal version of himself he will never truly be again#i dont think he can at this point. hes in too deep and hes suffering for it no matter how much he feels hes fixed his problems#he cant accept a version of himself that isnt that perfect young man. because he never confronted his problems. he just ran away#anyways . Hi swath *punches him**kicks him*#i dont care if nobody gets me lalalalla my truths and headcanons are awesome forever and i live in my own reality lallaallal#sorry i think im gonna be posting about swan alot for a few months hes making me sick#i wass gonna post this earlier but my internet was real bad#*lays down in my pile of pillows* eat up boys. haha#sidenote: drawing white blond people is horrifiying. Boy your skin and hair are the same color. Introduce some contrast to yourself. Please#adding on: its inportant to note this focuses on him looking st himself in the mirror alot on purpouse#to remind himself what he ‘’’’really’’’’ looks like#the 4 middle pannels all represent that too . u have to be in my brain ri get this#sorry for unleashijg another swan essay in my tags. will happen again lol
580 notes · View notes
possuminnit · 9 months ago
Note
what is this dsmp discord server youre referring to i'm so scared. ive been in this fandom for 3 years and i have no idea what youre talking about
it was like during when karl leaked the dsmp server link on accident (I THINK?) and a screenshot started going around of the discord server and everyone pointed out that it has a vent channel and just clowned on it. keeppp in mind tho this happened on twt so in hindsight probably fake but IDC its real to me Can you imagine the shit going on in that place
13 notes · View notes
housewarningparty · 2 months ago
Text
Finished A Shadow in Summer and. Well. Now idk if I should try to start Assassin's Apprentice to see if I can catch up with Steph, if I should double down on The Dragonbone Chair since I'm like 100+ pages into that already, or if I should see if I can knock out The Crypt of the Moon Spider this weekend too since it's new and only a novella
4 notes · View notes
dwtdog · 4 months ago
Text
meow meow meow meow moew
2 notes · View notes
daisyachain · 10 months ago
Text
can you even imagine. I was reading Lost Light as it came out and I didn’t even know how Ratchet’s storyline was going to end. I couldn’t even begin to suspect
3 notes · View notes
frogdetective · 2 years ago
Text
PROFESSOR LAYTON IS BACK DSLKFJNML;EWIRUGHYBJENFMWEL,DKOPIJ
3 notes · View notes
itsaboutnothing · 2 years ago
Text
Some days I wake up with no recollection of the might before apart from The Substances and the next morning its like why is my room so different now what did I do…… and the only think diff is… clean desk + moved curtains
0 notes
a-dauntless-daffodil · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
well @flagonking I'll blame you for this one
Emily: "Sir Pentious! Is that a laser canon!?"
Sir Pentious: "What? What, no. Of courssssse n- OH THISSSS canon! Ah, I, ah- I wass jussst dissssmantling it, oh mighty sssseraphim!"
Emily: "Dismantling- does it still work?"
Sir Pentious: "P-perhapssss, but ah...." (falls face down) "Pleassse! Do not ssssssend me back or rip the wingsss FROM my back!!!! I prosssstrate mysssself before you! I am a worm at the hem of your sssscelesstial sssskirtsss! I beg of you have merssscy! I-"
Emily: "I need you to do a terrorism for me."
Sir Pentious: "...I... beg your pardon?"
Emily: "Vaggie collapsed at last week's meeting and hasn't been fully conscious since-"
Sir Pentious: "WHAT! Vagatha!?"
Emily: "-Charlie's tried everything in hell she can think of but nothing's helped and she's finally broke her promise not to tell anyone in heaven and I really really wish she would have done that SOONER because Lute stormed out of the meeting just a few minutes before Vaggie went down and since then I haven't seen Lute anywhere and Sir Pentious, I NEED you to draw her out in a HURRY, Lute I mean, so I have a chance of finding what I think she's been hiding when I slip into her place while she's off confronting you-"
Sir Pentious: "What."
Emily: "I'm sorry, but we can't go to Sera for help. I don't trust her not to give Lute a heads up and enough time to get rid of any evidence before she's searched and Vaggie won't be safe again until we catch Lute red handed and make sure to get it BACK from her- That's the main point, everything else comes later-"
Sir Pentious: "Theesse are too many wordsss! I don't underssstand! Me dissstract her?! Vagatha very expressly told me NOT to draw the pathetic bi-, the ah, lieutenant'sss ire! It wassss a direct order!"
Emily: "I know and it's dangerous and she'll be furious with us both afterwards but Lute can't get away with this!"
Sir Pentious: "Thisss what? What issss she-"
Emily: "I think she has Vaggie's halo, from when Adam took it."
Sir Pentious: "Her halo..?"
Emily: "I think Lute's been hurting her with it."
Sir Pentious: "Oh..."
Sir Pentious: "...Undersssstood! Where in heaven ssshould the terrorisssm take plassce?"
Emily: "As far from the Exorcist barracks as you can manage- maybe, also as far from Adam's suits as you can make it too? I don't know where else she'd feel safe enough to do something like this from, so we'll start there."
Sir Pentious: "Ah... The gatessss ssssshould be a good disstance from both, yesss? And an attack on them would be MOSST alarming."
Emily: "Perfect, Pentious! That's perfect."
Sir Pentious: "Ma'am! When ssshall we commenssce the opperashhion?"
Emily: "Now. Right now- I have no idea what this is actually doing to Vaggie, if it IS what I think it is, but it can't be good and it needs to stop."
Sir Pentious: "Then I sssshall attack at onsssce!"
Emily: "Wait! Sir Pentious, I won't let Lute hurt you either- Take this with you."
Sir Pentious: "Y- YOUR halo-? NO! I cannot!"
Emily: "I'm authorizing you to. It's MY blessing to give. You'll be under my protection with this- As long as you hold it, anyone who tries attacking you will be attacking me too."
Sir Pentious: "But what if, sssshe attacks anyway?? I, I don't know if I could ssssurvive, never mind sssafeguard your-"
Emily: "If she comes for you, use my halo to shield yourself."
Sir Pentious: "Ah! Ah, but-"
Emily: "No buts. Promise me?"
Sir Pentious: "But you are ssssso much powerfuller and more important than I am! You are helping with the hotel! We ssshouldn't risssk-"
Emily: "Your friends lost you once, Pentious. You died for them."
Sir Pentious: "W-well. I would have preferred not to..."
Emily: "But you did and we're not putting them through that again. If Vaggie can survive Lute's sword cutting her eye out of her skull, I'm sure I'll manage a dent in my halo or two."
Sir Pentious: "... very well, ma'am."
Emily: "Please, it's just Emily."
Sir Pentious: "Ah, err, missss Emily? If you are sssscertain..."
Emily: "Good, then take it and good luck!"
Sir Pentious: "AH! You asss well!!!"
Emily: "Try to keep Lute arguing if she doesn't go straight to trying to kill you!"
Sir Pentious: "I will! I sssswear I will give you asss much time for your sssssearch ass I can!"
Sir Pentious: "...."
Sir Pentous: "Oh dear."
Sir Pentious: (hastily gather up laser canon) "Oh dear oh dear- oh thisss would be ssso much fasssster with my eggssss!" (juggling emily's halo) "Ah!"
Sir Pentious: (slithering quickly) "All thisss time. The crusty exorcist leader.. doing things to Vaggatha's halo..?"
Sir Pentious: (HISSES)
Sir Pentious: "I DO hope Charlotte MURDERSSS that bitch...."
Random Angel: "What?"
Sir Pentious: "AHHH!!!! I- I sssaid- OH DEAR! I SSSSSEEM TO HAVE AN ITCH! I ssshall jusst go and ssscrape myssself very inossscently againsst the gatesss of heaven, la la la, do not be alarmed! ....YET!"
-
Vaggie: "...?"
Charlie: "Oh-!"
Vaggie: "...charlie...?"
Charlie: "Vaggie."
Vaggie: "Why'm I... lying down."
Charlie: "Shhh it's okay, you're just resting a bit-"
Vaggie: "Weren't we, doing something... You're... crying..?"
Charlie: "No I'm-" (wipes face) "D-do you know where you are right now?"
Vaggie: "Our room..."
Charlie: "Right, that's right. That's good. You know me and our room and it's, okay. You're safe here and it's okay. Just rest."
Vaggie: "But the... meeting..?"
Charlie: "That was days ag- never mind. It's not important. Can I prop your head up for a second? Can you try a sip of water? You, you should drink a little while you're still awake-"
Vaggie: "I was... sleeping? Am I going to. Fall back asleep... again?"
Charlie: "I don't-" (voice breaks) "-I, I don't know. Maybe. You weren't really talking when you woke up before. Here. Drink?"
Vaggie: "Not thirsty. Not tired. What. Happened?"
Charlie: "You've been resting-"
Vaggie: "Charlie you've been crying. You still are. What's wrong?"
Charlie: "Oh m-maybe nothing, now you're sounding like yourself again... How's the headache?"
Vaggie: "It's..."
Vaggie: "...Gone?"
Charlie: "Gone? You're sure? Please don't hide it this time-"
Vaggie: "I'm not, sweetie. I feel okay."
Charlie: "And not even tired, mm?"
Vaggie: "Alright fine. A little tired. Probably not as tired as you though."
Charlie: "I'M not the one who's been-"
Vaggie: "When did you last get any sleep?"
Charlie: "... Husk and Angel offered to sit in while I tried napping, yesterday. But it felt wrong. You were just, laying there next to me so still, you only moved when another fit started."
Vaggie: "I've been having fits?"
Charlie: "A few. Four, I think? But only since yesterday." (shaky sigh) "Everyone's been trying to help, so don't get mad at them about me losing some sleep. I kept jolting awake scared I would miss- something. Not be there when you... the next time you woke up."
Vaggie: "...well I'm awake now."
Charlie: "You shouldn't strain yourself, okay? Just. Try to rest. Do not try getting up."
Vaggie: "I won't. But I could use a hug."
Charlie: "Me too..." (snuggles gf)
Vaggie: "..."
Charlie: "...Vaggie?"
Vaggie: "Hm? Yeah?"
Charlie: "J-just checking."
Vaggie: "I swear I feel okay now. Whatever all, that, was, I think it's over."
Charlie: "Okay. Heh."
Vaggie: "What?"
Charlie: "Maybe I worried Emily over nothing after all."
Vaggie: "You didn't tell her-"
Charlie: "It's been a week, Vaggie. I'm sorry, I know I promised- but I didn't know what to do."
Vaggie: "A week? Oh hun... then that's my fault for freaking you out." (hugs) "Don't be sorry. The only angel you told was Emily, right?"
Charlie: "Yes. Just her..."
Vaggie: "That's fine. She's not. The worst."
Charlie: "Someday you'll admit that you like her~ You think she's niiiice and want to hold haaands~"
Vaggie: (snorts) "Definitely fucking not. You're loopy from lack of sleep, babe, and that's the only reason you're saying that. But I trust her."
Charlie: "You do?"
Vaggie: "She stood up to heaven with you. That's good enough for me."
Charlie: "I want you to be the one standing with me, Vaggie."
Vaggie: "Does laying down with you count too?"
Charlie: "For now I'll take it."
Vaggie: "Very generous of you sweetie. Can you take a nap for me too?"
Charlie: "Maybe. You'll... get better soon now, right?"
Vaggie: "I will. "
Charlie: "... and if I drift off, just for a moment, you'll be awake when I wake up?"
Vaggie: "I promise."
-
Lute: "I plead innocence."
Emily: "Innocence? Lute, you admitted to it! You basically bragged about doing it!"
Lute: "There's no shame in doling out righteous punishment."
Emily: "How can you call this righteous!? She couldn't even defend herself! She didn't even know what was happening to her! And you- describing every scratch and dent on this halo, talking about how you dragged you sword's edge across it at first until it drew sparks, and then how you just started hacking at it- You had better PRAY when Charlie hears about this-"
Sera: "Hell will not be informed of the matter."
Emily: "Sera- they are the wronged party here! Of course we have to tell th-"
Sera: "No. We will not."
Lute: "Thank you ma'am."
Sera: "You will hold your tongue, exorcist. Did you strike a Seraphim?"
Lute: "... that, filth, the snake hid behind her halo-"
Emily: "As I told him to."
Sera: "So you saw the halo before you struck. And still did so."
Lute: "He was destroying the gates of heaven!"
Emily: "Also on my orders."
Lute: "See!? She's as bad as those SCUM down there are- just as much of a traitor as-"
Emily: "Thank you. I would rather be like her than-"
Sera: "Stop. Lute, you are banished from the inner spheres for the time being. I will summon you once a tribunal is convened to consider your actions."
Lute: "Ma'am."
Sera: "Emily... Go lie down for the rest of the day. I'll check in with you later."
Emily: "..."
Emily: "I knew you would do this."
Sera: (sigh) "Do what?"
Emily: "Part of me hoped you wouldn't, but I knew I couldn't risk the chance you wouldn't care... even when it was one of ours being hurt."
Lute: "THAT FLITH IS NOT ONE OF US!"
Emily: "Good. Maybe she's safer down there."
Lute: "Not if I having anything to say about it!"
Emily: "I can see that. I'm starting to think even angels aren't safe up in heaven."
Sera: "Go lie down, Emily, please."
Emily: "Fine. I have a headache anyway. Dented halo and all that."
Lute: "Why are you taking the-"
Emily: "Vaggie's halo?"
Lute: "It belongs to- it belonged to Adam! And as the new leader of the exorcists, I-"
Emily: "You'll touch it again over my dead body."
Sera: "Enough with the dramatics. Now I am getting a headache."
Emily: "Let's talk politics then. As the sole volunteer delegate to hell, I am the only one here who can return Vaggie's stolen halo to her, aren't I? Aren't I, Sera."
Sera: "... you may as well."
Lute: "Seraphim please- you can't show mercy to Adma's killers-"
Sera: "I am left cleaning up the mess Adam and you have caused yet again, Lute, and I am becoming tired of doing so. Go."
Lute: (glares) (leaves)
Sera: "...and Emily... I won't be able shield you from your own actions forever. I am only one of heaven's seraphim- Please, do not do anything to condemn yourself in the eyes of our fellows. I cannot out rule them all. And some of them have been listening to Lute..."
Emily: "Including you."
Sera: "That is my duty."
Emily: "Well, maybe protecting people from angels like you is mine."
Sera: "Emily-"
Emily: (flies off) (still carefully cradling vaggie's halo)
151 notes · View notes
peachy-wolfhard · 9 months ago
Text
dating toge inumaki
rawr :3 sorry if this doesn't make any sense. if u know what horror game i mentioned shout out. its long bc im a d1 yapper
word count: 975
warnings: swearing, food, horror video games
I LOVE toge i am the number one toge inumaki lover srry not srry
First things first…he's a menace. Walks up behind you and pinches under your ribs, bops you on the head with random items (gently), bites like a cat (u know when ur petting them and then they just randomly bite? Like that)
While yes he does make your life HELL he's also a sweetheart
Flowers regularly, movie nights every week WITH snacks, super duper secret sleepovers (it used to be a secret then panda found out and insisted on joining), dates that last all day then inevitably end in a sleepover
Loves taking you to the arcade with those really hard claw machines so he can flex how good he is at them, even better if they're the ones with anime figures in them
“Oh my god look at it! It looks so dumb i love it” tapping on the glass at a plush seal with balls 
“Salmon” he giggles tapping the card
While Toge loves to go on dates outside of your dorms and the school there are some days that neither one of you has the energy to go out. These nights mainly consist of the both of you cooking dinner together, watching those random 4 hour long videos about random subjects, and falling asleep in each others arms
Speaking of curse speech, he adds new words just for you!
His favorite way to greet you is saying honey
“Hi baby” you say, wrapping your arms around Toge, not caring about how sweaty you are from training.
“Mhm, honey” he whispers, burying his head into your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you, rocking sideways back and forth
To outsiders Toge seems so quiet and reserved but rest assured he has the biggest yappetite EVER like 40 messages in under a minute because whatever thought he has at the moment he NEEDS to tell you them
Some messages are sweet
“Hi bb i love u sm i cant wait to get my “grubby” paws on u ;) n e way i got u stuff”
“Hi brawling rn just wanted to say i luv u sm adn i cant wati for snuggles and love.”
But most are just random thoughts he has
“wass good bbg? <3 do u think panda can get fleas?”
“HELLO MY LOVER URGENT MESSAGE I JUST HAD TEH WORST FOOD EVER I AM ILL PLS BRING GINGER ALE AND TUMS IM DYINGGGGGGASDGJKNSKFNGBKAD”
“bbg check this out” *picture of a really ugly curse* “looks like u :3”
Loves playing videogames with you even if you don't like them he just sits you on his lap and plays anyway
Even if you don't like video games he still makes you play horror games with him, especially if everyone is with you.
“Oh my god i hate this. I don't wanna do this anymore”
“Just keep going forward, it's almost Toge’s turn anyway” Yuta says, slightly giggling at your anxious self.
“No no no nononono i don't wanna do it! Maki help!” you shout, begging your best friend to take over but failing.
“Just sprint, you're gonna be fine” Panda adds leaning over the couch.
“MY TUMMY HURTS I CANT…ok ok i'll sprint..” you say pressing the sprint button and running up the stairs. Just as your character gets into the next room, one of the bosses drops down from the ceiling.
“FUCK NO FUCK NO STOP PLEASE GO AWAY,” you continue to shout as your friends yell for you to run.
Your friends are sick of you…correction, Maki is sick of you two
Everytime she comes into contact with the two of you you're always cuddling, kissing or just generally being lovey dovey. Half the time you and Toge are cuddled up in what looks like the most uncomfortable places.
Desk chairs, chairs in the common room that are as hard as rocks, etc. If there is an uncomfortable place to sit rest assured knowing that the two of you will be snuggled up together
Speaking of pda, he's so sticky 
Toge loves to just be around you whether it be holding your hand, wrapping his arms around you or just standing near you
“Parallel play” is a big thing for you guys since conversations are fairly short (sorry king) as long as you two are in the same room he's happy
Most days consist of one of you working on homework or any other work and the other one just being near
On the rare occasion that you and Toge aren't attached to the hip both of you are texting nonstop
y/n
“meow hi love of my life”
toge
“Good afternoon dear lover, I wish I could be with u rn but alas I am at war and the outcome is looking bleak. But trust me I will return home with goods. Love ur awesome bf”
y/n
“ur putting ur thesaurus and dictionary to work ga damn”
toge
“im gonna bite u”
y/n
“try it coward ill rock ur shit”
toge
“EAT MY BUTT”
One last thing…he’s 100% a food thief 
Does not matter what you have, he is sneaking some of it whether you know it or not
Toge WILL eat your leftovers you've been looking forward to all day
No matter what you have, he always has a little of it. I mean YOU'RE eating it, it must be good
“Taste testing” is another thing he does, he says it's because he doesn't want you to be poisoned but in reality he thinks its funny how annoyed you get about it
Take out you two have had millions of times? Taste tested. Food your friends bought you two? You can't trust them! Taste tested. Food YOU cooked? Might've been poisoned, Taste. Tested.
All together he loves you so much…maybe i'll make a part 2
356 notes · View notes
bogkeep · 1 year ago
Text
i'm pretty peculiar about my media. i love animation, my brain is allergic to a huge portion of the horror genre, i have a lot of hard-to-define triggers i navigate around constantly and i will nope out of a thing if the vibes rub me the wrong way. because of this, i tend to think of myself as very soft-hearted in my preferences. like, of course i don't want to engage with stories that just make me feel miserable! why would i seek out the gruesome and the macabre... and then i look down at whatever i'm currently reading which is inevitably gonna be something requiring a whole list of trigger warnings if ever recommend it to someone else
honestly at this point i'm just fascinated how terms like 'grimdark' and 'hopepunk' are perceived differently by people because i'll be like. "yeah no i'm not into grimdark stuff, you really do get fatigued if something is too bleak all the time" while reading something a lot of people would consider grimdark. "wait what do you mean this is grimdark, it has that lil shimmer of hope and resilience, surely that's not grimdark???"
something something one man's grimdark is another man's hopepunk
59 notes · View notes
ollies-headcanons · 2 months ago
Text
greek gods playing dti LETS GO
Zeus - doesnt know what hes doing, votes no one, endsup breaking his phone. He didnt have a favourite theme but he really liked those people that made the avatar naked for.. some reason.
Poseidon - Is also confused but makes a few ok outfits and gets pissed off that he cant have long hair with the male bodytype. His favourite theme was the elemental one because he did water
Hades - finds it amusing but gets bored easily. Voted okay. His favourite theme was ancient civilization.
Hera - Finds it fun because of all the femininity in it. Her favourite theme was wedding day
Athena - found it a waste of time, voted fairly, the only theme she liked was book charatcers
Apollo - He LOVED it. Had so much fun. He screenshots all his outfits and votes fairly and is the one thats really nice in chat. His favourite theme was dark vs light because he did light.
Aphrodite - Her and Apollo teamed during it and they both loved it. They did duos too. Her favourite theme wass valentines day. She voted all the pretty outfits well.
Dionysus - He found it fun but was also pissed at the lack of male clothes, men not being able to wear dresses or have long hair, etc. He loved the musicals theme though. He was also mad that there was no wine in the game. He did NOT vote fairly at all.
Hepheastus - He was really good at layering and tried to vote fairly. His favourite theme was steampunk for obvious reasons.
Ares - Got SO mad when he lost. Did not vote fairly so that he would win. His favourite themes were the ones he placed in.
Nyx - Did not know what to do either but she was really good with dark themes
also honorable mention achilles and patroclus would secretly love it and duo together and make make their outfits kiss
56 notes · View notes
love-and-monsters · 11 months ago
Text
The Fallen Angel
GN human X nonbinary angel (uses they/its pronouns), 15,020 words.
(Apologies for how long I've been away, a lot has been happening. But here is the story at long last! At very long last. I have written, unfortunately, a fucking novella. Please let me know what you think, I put my heart into this bitch.)
There is an angel trapped in the basement of the church. You are determined to free it.
There was an angel trapped in the basement of the church. You could hear it singing when you cleaned the great brass candles and the stained glass windows. It sang during the services, too, but the song just reverberated behind the choir or the preaching, too subtle to be truly noticed. It was only in the afternoons, when the sunlight sent a colored glow across the floor and your body sweated and shook with fatigue, that the song grew strong enough for you to really hear what it was.
Angel song is not like birdsong, nor it is it like the song of a person. It is almost like the sound of a choir, if the choir was like a pipe organ or the wind passing through a cave. The noise settled in your bones and lungs. Sometimes, you felt yourself humming along, like just the presence of the sound was forcing the notes from your body.
You cleaned the church every three days, more or less- you didn’t clean at all on Sundays, but you did attend. So did the rest of the town. Had it gotten more crowded since the song started? Maybe- the church’s attendance was already high, and the faith strong. The angel would not have come otherwise.
You knew that the angel was trapped. You weren’t a fool- the basement door was chained and sealed, and the singing was louder the closer you get. No free angel would suffer being locked away like this. And then there was its singing. Usually, it just made your bone tremble and compelled you to sing along with it. On Sundays, its song amplified the worship, making your brain tingle with the divine. But sometimes, more frequently these days, the song struck you with such profound sadness, that you found yourself on your knees, face wet with tears.
It was over a month of the singing and the knowledge that something divine rested beneath your feet before you considered doing something about it.
In fairness: you were not qualified to interact with an angel, much less rescue one. You were not a priest, not a spiritual practitioner. A priest was technically your boss, though you cleaned more buildings in town than the church. If he had trapped the angel, there must be a reason.
But the angel’s song grew more sorrowed and more desperate, until you woke at night, nowhere near the angel’s song, with a hum vibrating in your chest and tears on your cheeks. And you came to the conclusion that, no matter what reason the priest has, the angel did not deserve this.
So you called a spiritual practitioner. As much as you may have wanted to help, you had no idea how. Better to leave such things to professionals.
You had hoped the practitioner would arrive at the church, sense the angel immediately, and free them. But there wass no fuss from the church, and no angel emerged. The practitioner left town before the sun set that day.
Three more practitioners and a priest entered the town over the next two weeks. None of them freed the angel. Your bewilderment grew with each failure. Were they not noticing it? Were they being turned away? Bribed?
The sixth person, a priest, was the one you followed. You tailed him to the church, and continued following him twenty minutes later, when he emerged. Once he had made it past the edges of the town, you ambushed him.
It wasn’t much of an ambush, really. You just stepped out onto the path in front of him and demanded he tell you what was going on. He was clearly weirded out, but once you said that you were the person who called him, he was a bit more willing to talk.
You asked him why he didn’t do anything to free the angel. He stareed at you, eyes wide. Then he spoke, quiet and almost frightened. “What that thing is should not be freed. It is best for everyone if it stays down there.”
Once he told you that, he dismissed himself, and hurried away. You stared after him. Then you returned home.
The creature in the basement could not be anything but an angel. It could have been one of the infernal, but the infernal don’t sing. Scream and howl and beg, but they do not sing. And no infernal creature would sit through the services that come every Sunday. People would avoid the church, rather than flocking to it in droves. And yet, if the priest had seen an angel, you found it hard to believe he wouldn’t have tried to release it. He certainly wouldn’t have told you it was a thing.
The next time you went to the church, the singing was low and tremulous. It reminded you of someone trying to sing through tears. Again and again, you found yourself at the basement door. When you placed your hand on it, the dark metal was warm, like it had been resting under a sunbeam.
You could not bring yourself to leave, even an hour after your work was done. The sadness of the song radiated around you and ever since you spoke to the priest, you were terribly curious. Perhaps that was a cruel thing, to be just as compelled by curiosity as compassion. But you were. If it had been just compassion, maybe you could have stood aside and let someone else do it. But it was curiosity as well, and you needed to do it yourself because you needed to know.
While you had access to most of the keys in your line of work, you didn’t have access to the ones that unlocked the chains and the door. Even after some snooping, you couldn’t find them, so you resorted to attempting to pick the locks. It was something you learned in your youth, mostly since you could never keep track of your house keys. The padlock was easy enough to undo. The door took more time, but still under five minutes.
The door itself was more of a barrier than the locks were. It was heavy enough that you wondered if it was even designed for only one person to open. But with enough effort, you managed to open it enough for you to squeeze through.
It wasn’t dark. Or, rather, it was dark, but it wasn’t as dark as it should have been. There were no windows in the basement and you had no light, so you shouldn’t have been able to see anything. Certainly not the gentle glow of what looked like sunlight at the bottom of the cool stone steps in front of you.
It wasn’t cold, either, you reflected as you headed down the steps. It should have been, if not dank, at least a little chilly. But the light was as warm as a sunbeam. You headed toward it, keeping your steps as light as possible. Surely whatever was down here had heard the door open and knew someone was approaching, but you tried to keep as quiet as possible regardless. It made you feel better.
The stairs ended at a doorway that opened into a room. It was clearly intended for storage of some kind, as most basements are. And it was still storing something. Because most of the room was occupied by a-
Well, that was the question, wasn’t it? What was that? Your first instinct was person, but people are not usually so large that, even on their knees, they cannot straighten their back without hitting their head on the ceiling. Their body filled most of the room. You could sit in their hand. And, of course, they were the source of the light. You couldn’t look at their center, since it was so bright as to be blinding, but even their extremities glowed like lamps. You had to tilt you head back to look into their face and you saw… nothing. Their head was human-shaped, but they had no hair, no face. It was almost frightening, the blankness there, but your attention was drawn to something else only a moment later.
Angels have halos. This one was no exception. A golden ring, elaborate in design, hovered behind their head. But it was not a simple, clean circle. It was broken. The metal was (or something that looked like metal) twisted and splintered and dented. The entire thing was rent apart, golden liquid spilling from the broken bits. It looked like something grabbed it and twisted until the halo split.
The song radiated through you then. And, for the first time, it occurred to you that this was not song. It just sounded like it. The angel was crying.
Everyone heard tales of fallen angels. Cast out for crimes or sin, sent to Earth. Crying to return. They were creatures to fear. An angel is dangerous. An angel that has been sent away and maddened with grief and loss is only more so.
You moved toward them, trying to see where they were chained to the wall. Your body moved almost on its own, and you wondered if the song was somehow compelling you to do so. It didn’t matter, though. You’d be doing this anyway.
There weren’t chains holding it in place. That was actually a relief. They would have been huge and you weren’t sure how to handle chains you couldn’t move. Instead, the angel seemed to be held in place by writings across the ground, walls, and ceiling. From a distance, they looked like just worn stone, but up close, you could see the writing. It took you some time to figure out what they were. Bible verses, in Latin and English. They seemed completely random. You assumed they were holding the angel here, since you couldn’t find anything else that seemed to be doing so. But this wass all over your head. Presumably there was a way to undo this, but you didn’t know what. It would be weeks of work to destroy all the writing here.
After taking some time to despair and scream in frustration, you went over to a wall and, by the light of the angel, started to read. It was a bit difficult, since there was no way to read without the angel being behind you, and your shadow appearing on the wall, but if you angled your head, you could make out the words.
Some of the verses were familiar to you. A few of them were about angels. Some of them were about God’s power or smiting the unjust. Some of them seemed completely unrelated. Maybe there was a reason that you just weren’t getting. But as you continued, you noted a pattern. They repeated.
It was a hard repeat to catch- there wasn’t a set pattern where it was the same order every repeat. But after going back and forth and squinting in the low light for long enough that you developed quite the headache, you found that the phrases were repeating. Every verse was repeated once per repeated section. A vague idea came to your head. It wasn’t a plan you were sure would work, but it was the only idea you had.
You slipped back upstairs and rummaged in the tool closet. Normally, you only bothered with the cleaning supplies, but there were hammers and nails there, for general repairs. You took a hammer and a screwdriver and brought them back down to the basement.
At the beginning of each repeat, you took the screwdriver and, using it as almost a makeshift chisel, hammered it into the wall until the rock chipped away. The words weren’t carved very deeply, so it wasn’t terribly hard to flake them off. Well, it wasn’t hard relatively speaking. It was still hard work to chisel anything at all, and your arms were trembling and aching in short order.
It was slow going. Fortunately, the repeats were long, so you didn’t need to chisel all that often, but it was hard to find the proper start, and there was a lot of small writing. Your back ached from stooping to get the stuff on the floor.
You had the inclination that you were doing something right, though. The angel had nearly ignored you before, as you’d walked around its cage. But now, as you chiseled at the walks, it turned its head toward you, face still blank, though you could tell it was watching. Maybe it was just curious, but you thought maybe it could sense something changing.
About midway through your second wall, the air started to take on a different… feel. Like it was getting thicker, almost humid, with a smell like before a storm. You took more breaks, almost dropping your hammer and chisel a few times. Your fingers weakened. You started smashing randomly with the hammer, though it didn’t seem to have a great effect. The angel watched, or did something similar, with its massive, blank face.
By the third wall, the feeling was suffocating. Whether it was from the unbinding of the angel itself, or the bindings themselves trying to fight back, it was impossible to say. You just staggered from one repeat to the next, barely able to stand. How were you going to get the writing on the ceiling? You couldn’t risk stopping and returning, in case someone discovered your work the next day, but you also could not risk getting up on a ladder- not when it felt like the floor was shifting and bucking under your feet.
Please, you thought as you brought your hammer down onto your makeshift chisel. Please be enough. Please be the last. You weren’t sure who you were begging to, pleading to, but as you brought your hammer down one last time-
Light. There was light and then there was nothing. You were on your back on the ground, though it didn’t hurt. Which was strange. If you’d fallen over, you expected your head to hurt where it had hit the ground. You blinked a couple times. The room was less bright than it had been. There were a few scraps of light that seemed to be drifting about like floating candle flames, but they were fading and taking the light with them.
You rolled over and looked toward the angel. It was no longer there. Or, to be more specific, the enormous, glowing, faceless creature was gone. Sitting in the center of the room, blinking in apparent confusion was… a person.
No, the person was the angel. You were sure of it, since the person had wings. Large, powerful-looking wings with scruffy brown feathers. Little wings of a lighter color were set where their ears should be. But they also did not look like the images of angels you’d seen in books or in stained glass. Those angels were always inhuman looking, with perfect, sculpted bodies and porcelain skin. This angel was a little pudgy, with little pockmarks and imperfections in its skin. Its feathers were ruffled and sticking out, and its long hair was ruffled. It blinked at you with drooping, tired-looking eyes.
“Ah…” Looking at the angel, you realized you hadn’t paused to come up with an exit plan for once the angel was free. You’d been more focused on just breaking the cage. There had been some vague idea in the back of your head, of the angel realizing it was free and busting its way out of the church through the ceiling. Though perhaps it was good that hadn’t ended up happening, since that would probably leave you crushed by rubble. You certainly hadn’t expected the angel to suddenly poof down into a nearly human form.
They seemed confused. They swayed in place, staring around the room like they’d never seen it before. Or, never seen it from that angle before, at least. They shifted their wings a couple times, stretching them out only the tiniest amount before trying to get to their feet. Despite looking rather unsteady, they stood with only a little stumbling and stayed on their feet. They glanced around the room one more time, then looked back at you.
They were tall. Bigger than most people you’d seen. And their wings only added to their bulk. They would have cut an intimidating figure, if it wasn’t for the out-of-it look on their face.
This was a new problem. You’d figured the angel would be out of your hair once you freed it. But this angel looked rather helpless. You got the impression that, if you left it there, it would stand there until the priests came back in the morning and locked it away again. Or killed it. It looked more killable in this form.
Leaving it was considered and discarded. It probably wasn’t a good idea to leave them here if they could remember your face and maybe reveal your identity if asked. And even if they couldn’t, you’d already put so much effort into freeing them. It seemed like a waste to ditch them at the last moment.
Not to mention, the idea of leaving them standing there, shivering slightly in the chill of the basement and blinking at you with confused, doe-like eyes made your chest ache.
You approached the angel. It locked its eyes on you, watching as you came closer. Not necessarily cautious- more like curious as to what you were going to do next. You reached out a cautious hand and took the angel’s.
They jolted, sucking in a breath the second your fingers came in contact. You froze. All of their feathers bristled and they seemed to shudder. For a moment, you thought you could faintly hear their song, but it faded so quickly that it may have been your imagination.
“It’s okay,” you whispered, the same tone you used to coax the church cats out of hiding places. “We need to go, though.” You tugged on their arm. Despite their size, they moved easily. You lead them up the stairs and into the church proper.
They followed you to the back door of the church. It was late, and the place was deserted, which was a relief. The angel was both winged and very naked, which would be hard to explain to anyone.
Getting them to your house was tense. The angel was conspicuous, so you had to avoid areas with people. Fortunately, it was late, so the cover of night and the lack of people on the street was enormously helpful. The angel was also quite easy to tug along, despite their size. You made it to the backdoor of your home with no real struggle, though you came very close to shoving the angel into a bush when a person stumbled across your path in your neighborhood. To your relief, they were very drunk and they seemed to barely notice your presence.
The moment you were within your house, you collapsed. The angel shuffled next to you, flexing their wings and glancing around. They didn’t seem anything more than mildly interested in their surroundings. After a moment, they sat down next to you.
You could have stayed on the ground all night, but after thirty minutes, you decided that it probably wasn’t good to your guest to let them stay on the ground all night. It was late and you could decide what to do with them in the morning, but now, you were both going to get some rest.
“Come on,” you grumbled, tugging at their arm. The angel allowed itself to be led into your small bedroom, where you encountered your first problem. The bed was not sized for an angel. Again, it was a normal bed. Not an unusually small one. But the angel was, at minimum, six and a half feet tall and carrying a set of bulky wings. Perhaps, if you shuffled some furniture around, you could have made it work, but it was very late and you were very tired. So you tugged all the bedsheets you had into the room and dumped them on the floor. The angel watched you the entire time, completely impassive.
Once you were done, you had to drag the angel over and push them into the makeshift bed. They blinked up at you from the pile. “Lie down,” you said, pushing on their shoulders. They allowed it, bowing under your touch with as much compliance as ever. “Go to sleep.”
You didn’t wait to see if they followed that order. Instead, you stumbled to your own bed, tugged the blanket you had over yourself, and closed your eyes.
Morning came entirely too early. Even when you were bone tired, your body clock woke you up at the same time every day. It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours of sleep, and probably less. You blinked tiredly for like thirty seconds before rolling over and catching sight of the angel.
It was still laying down in the pile of blankets. Its eyes were on you, blinking heavily every so often. You stared back at it. “I suppose you’re going to be here for a while,” you said. The angel just stared.
With little else to do, you got out of bed and headed into the kitchen. Your head ached, probably from lack of sleep, and also stress. It had been easy to not think about the consequences when you were freeing the angel, but now, well. The priest was going to want to know where his angel went, and you had a winged person in your house, as well as being the last person in the church that night. It wouldn’t be hard to put the pieces together.
You got into the kitchen and became aware of a second set of footsteps trailing after yours. You stopped and the footsteps behind you stopped as well. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it- the angel was following you. They gazed back at you as you stared at them. They were swaying a little on their feet, wings twitching like that helped them stay upright.
“I suppose you want breakfast,” you said. The angel blinked. It was the only acknowledgement they gave you. “Well, I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t feed you, I guess.”
At your instruction (physical instruction- it was easier to move the angel around than it was to try and give them verbal commands) the angel sat down at your tiny table. There wasn’t much room for more than one person, but you could make it work. Breakfast was never a particularly impressive affair for you, but if you had an angel over, you decided to go through the effort of actually heating up some biscuits and cooking some eggs and even a couple thin strips of bacon.
You set the plate in front of the angel. They stared down at the meal. Their gaze wasn’t necessarily dismissive. It just also reminded you of a dog examining a new object. Not a person getting a good meal.
“Do you know how to eat?” you asked after a few moments. If it had just become a mortal, than perhaps it wasn’t sure precisely how eating worked? You demonstrated a few times, slicing a sliver off your egg and placing it in your mouth before chewing with exaggerated deliberateness. The angel took it in, but still made no moves on its own breakfast. “Do you need help?” you asked, a bit irritated. You sawed off a piece of biscuit, dipped it in the egg and speared a little bit of bacon before holding it to the angel’s mouth. It recoiled when the fork nearly touched its lips.
A few more attempts at convincing it to eat were unsuccessful and you backed off, confused. Perhaps the angel didn’t need to eat after all, or wasn’t able. You had no idea what angels needed.
Now that you had eaten, you were starting to feel more ready to tackle the current issues. You had work. Not at the church, thankfully, but you still needed to leave. And as reluctant as you were to leave the angel alone in your house, you couldn’t think of anything else to do. Staying home would be incredibly suspicious. You needed to make it look like everything was normal.
As exhausted as you were, you dragged your clothes on and gathered your supplies. The angel watched you. They were still completely naked, though you were getting used to it at this point. “Are you going to put some clothes on?” you asked. The angel stared. “Never mind.” It wasn’t like it was going to fit in any of your clothes. It was too tall. “I’m going to be leaving for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can, all right? Stay here. Don’t go outside.” You felt a little bad, telling the angel that had spent the past however long trapped in a single room that it couldn’t go outside, but that was a bad idea. Maybe later, you could bring them outside.
“Stay here,” you said, feeling a little like you were talking to a dog. The angel just stared at you. “I’m trusting you.”             You left your home and took a few paces down the street, glancing over your shoulder all the while. The door didn’t open again, and you kept looking until your house had vanished around a corner, and even a little after that.
To your immense relief, the angel never followed. That didn’t stop you from being jumpy as you cleaned, though. Every time a person approached you, there was a moment of panic, either that someone had found a strange, winged person wandering the street or that the priests at the church were going to drag you in for questioning. But neither ever happened. You managed to finish up early (by cutting a few corners) and hurried home.
The angel was… exactly where you left them. Literally. Exact same spot. Had it even moved all day? It did look a little worse for wear- a little weaker, maybe, with dark patches coming in under its eyes and a definite sway when it tried to sit up straight. As soon as it saw you, it makes an attempt to surge to its feet- and fumbled, nearly landing straight on its face.
“Woah, hey there,” you said as the angel flailed on the ground, wings flapping like a startled duck. “You, uh. You doing all right?”             The angel managed to push itself upright and blinked blearily at you. The swaying was still there, giving the alarming impression that they were a moment from falling again and only just barely preventing themself from doing so.
Perfect. You not only had an angel bunking with you, you had an angel bunking with you and there was something wrong with them. That could only end badly. “Okay, I’m going to need you to work with me here,” you said. The angel was, again, rather compliant as you tugged them into the kitchen and got them to sit at the table. They seemed to be shivering, so… fire in the stove? You grabbed a few blankets and placed them around the angel’s shoulders as well, until the angel was sufficiently covered. The angel’s shivering slowed and it seemed almost perplexed by that development.
“That’s better,” you said. “Are you feeling okay now?”             The angel wobbled a little bit and they blinked at you. They didn’t seem to nod or shake their head at all, or communicate in any way other than staring. Which meant it was hard to figure out what they wanted. Or if they wanted anything at all.
After staring at the angel for a little while longer, just to convince yourself that they weren’t about to keel over, you went to the stove and heated up your dinner. It was just some bread and a very simple chunk of salted meat with a couple of vegetables. The angel watched you, though they still swayed like they were on a ship instead of steady ground.
You returned to the table, carrying your plate, and the angel’s eyes remained locked on you. No, not you, you realized as you got closer. Their gaze was locked on your plate. As you wanted, the angel’s mouth opened, ever so slightly, and a bead of drool actually welled up on their lips. As you set the plate on the table, the angel made a strange noise. You hadn’t been expecting it at all, so it took you a moment to realize it was the angel’s stomach growling.
“Are you hungry?” you asked. The angel stared back at you. After a moment, you pushed the plate of food toward the angel. Their eyes remained on it, but they didn’t make any move to eat. Not even when you took a fork and offered them a bite.
There was a bewildered moment, where you weren’t sure what was going on. Then it clicked in your head: the angel was hungry. They also had no idea what to do with it.
The angel was mortal now. Whatever had happened, when you broke its cage, it had become mortal. But it had never been mortal before. How was it supposed to know anything? How would someone know the pain in your stomach meant hunger if they’d never felt it before? How would they know the heaviness their limbs and strange inability to keep their eyes open would be cured by sleep, or their shivering meant they needed to sit near a fire with blankets?
The angel was a mortal, but it was a very new mortal, and it needed to learn all the other things mortals understood just by being alive.
You scooted closer to the angel and picked up the fork again. This time, you took a bite, making sure the angel watched the food travel into your mouth and you chewing and swallowing. Then, you moved the fork right up to the angel’s lips. “You’re hungry. This will help. You need to eat,” you said, not totally sure if the angel was understanding you. The angel blinked once, twice, then tentatively opened its mouth and allowed you to place the food inside.
The angel, with a sort of bewildered slowness, closed their mouth and chewed. It looked like clumsy chewing, but they picked up on it pretty quickly, their brow furrowed with focus. Then they tried to swallow and instantly choked.
You had a real, legitimate panic about having an angel choke to death at your table for nearly a full twenty seconds before the angel got their breathing under control again. You made them drink water, which went much smoother- maybe you should have started there- and cleaned up. The angel had recovered enough to watch you as you did so, drinking in every motion you made. Maybe it would have been a little creepy, if the angel hadn’t felt so genuinely curious about what you were doing.
When you returned the food to it, the angel ate more carefully, if still with enthusiasm. You’d realized, by that point, that the angel didn’t understand the concept of being too full, so while that would eventually need to be a learning experience, you just took the food away after you’d determined what the angel probably needed. It didn’t protest at all, but let you remove the plate and watched as you collected the scraps that could be composted.
It didn’t protest when you led the angel to bed, either. This time, you just tugged all the bedsheets you had onto the floor and directed the angel’s attention onto you. “We’re going to sleep. You need to sleep. Every night. You sleep like this.” You lay down on the floor, tugged the blankets over yourself, and went still, slowing your breathing. The angel watched until you sat up again. “Now you do it.”
With some very gentle persuasion, you got the angel lying on its side, eyes closed. You watched it until its breathing deepened and its body relaxed. Then you went to sleep yourself.
The angel was still fast asleep when you woke, and you were careful not to disturb it as you made your way to the kitchen. You had a feeling it would turn up and, sure enough, when the smells of cooking made their way down the hall, the angel appeared, a blanket wrapped around it like a cloak.
They ate breakfast, this time not even choking once, and even brought their plate over to the washbasin. “Okay,” you told them once you were done cleaning up. They looked at you, gaze attentive. “We’re going to need to get you some clothes.”
You did not have any clothes in their size, and since you were smaller than they were, you couldn’t just take some of your clothes in. The wings were also a complicating factor. In the end, you didn’t have the time or skills to really make anything elaborate for the angel. With one of your old blankets, you simply created rough arm and neck holes and added darts in the sides to hold the entire thing together. There was no way to create holes for the wings. They were large enough that you just left massive slits down the back to create space. It wasn’t perfect, since the slits left the back rather open, but it was better than nothing. The angel was remarkably still for the whole measuring and pinning and sewing. It took a few hours for the entire process to be over, and you were sore by the end, but the angel had clothes.
It was not long after you’d fully clothed them, when you were lying on your bed to enjoy a rest, that someone knocked on your door.
You jolted, nearly throwing yourself out of bed. The angel startled as well, though they seemed to be more upset by your reaction than the knocking. Cautiously, you crept through the door, grateful that your window allowed you to see the people at your door without needing to open it.
The angel came, warm against your back as they stared out the window after you. The Head Priest stood, dressed in his usual gold-flecked robes and with two guards stationed at either shoulder. You felt the angel shift and bristle behind you turned to look at them.
The angel was staring, unblinking, at the priest and his entourage. Its wings had extended a little, puffed up like the pigeons that littered the town did when they were threatened. But its face… it was the first time you’d ever seen the angel make a real expression of emotion. And it was afraid.
That, more than anything, made your stomach sink.
The knocking came again, louder, harder. The angel slunk back a little. One of its hands was latched onto your wrist and it seemed determined to drag you with it. It actually managed to haul you along for a few steps before you dug your feet in. “I have to answer the door. Go hide.” The angel released your wrist, but it hesitated, wings twitching. “Go. Hide. I will be fine.” The angel flexed its wings once, then turned and headed back to your room. You breathed in and out, then headed toward the door.
As soon as you opened the door, the priest moved into your house. He didn’t shove past you, since he didn’t touch you, but he did force his way in. The guards just roughly shoved you aside, barely recognizing your presence.
“Can I help you, your grace?” you said. It was difficult to keep your voice even. The priest wasn’t a withered old man, but he wasn’t young, and his gaze was as sharp as a shard of glass. He glared around the room, nose twitching. You resisted the irrational thought that he was smelling for something. You licked your lips. “Was my church cleaning not up to your satisfaction?”
The priest’s gaze focused on you. “The cleaning has been fine. However, two days ago, an object of some great importance went missing from the church.”
It was him saying ‘an object’ that saved you. Because you didn’t take an item, you had, technically, stolen a person. But your brain didn’t quite register that he couldn’t just say you’d stolen a person, so when he said ‘an object,’ you took him at face value and your surprise was genuine.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.” The priest’s eyes locked onto yours, and you stared back with stupid, genuine bewilderment. There was a flicker across his face, like surprise- maybe he didn’t expect you to look so guileless.
“You won’t mind if we have a look around, then?” the priest said, voice lightly curious. Not even accusing. Genial.
It was a trap. Obviously. Say yes, the priest can poke wherever he wants and look for anything he determined to be incriminating. Say no, that was instantly suspicious, even if you were only doing it for the sake of your privacy. But if you said yes… there was no way he wasn’t going to find the angel in your bedroom.
“Actually, I do mind. Are you accusing me of something?” Acting outraged was your best defense. Not a good defense, just the best one you had. “I don’t appreciate having people rifle through my things just because I happened to be near the church when something was stolen.”
The priest’s eyes narrowed. The guards stiffened. “No accusation, of course. We’re merely… cautious. Surely you can understand why we would want to check out every possible lead. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear, no?”
“I have nothing to fear, but that hardly means I want people meandering into my house at all hours, demanding proof for crimes there is no evidence I committed. Tell me, if I came into your home tomorrow, demanding to look for something you may have stolen while you were in my house, would you be perfectly happy to have me poking through your underwear drawer?” The priest’s face went a strange shade of pink-red, but you barreled on with no pause for his response. “And, to add to that, you haven’t even told me what was stolen! For all I know, you could simply claim any of my items to be the thing I stole and slap me in chains for it!”
The priest was still deadly calm, but there was a clear rage to his voice when he spoke again. “Do you truly think a man of god would do such a thing?”             You lifted your chin in a gesture of audacity. “You call yourself that. But people can call themselves any number of things. And would a true man of god barge into someone’s house and demand to search their things with no evidence of their involvement in any crime?”
The priest’s face was heading toward a shade of puce, but, with effort, his jaw unclenched. “Very well. But I’m certain you’ll understand of we are, as of now, reluctant to have you in the church.”
“Yes, sir.” Losing your job was, really, one of the less-terrible outcomes, and the one you’d expected the most. You had other jobs, though losing the church would be something of a financial loss. Though you also had to consider that you were feeding another mouth, now… That could be a problem.
The priest seemed to take your thoughtful silence as some kind of shameful penitence, because he puffed himself up and nodded. “Take care. We will… see what we can find about the thievery.”
You guided him back to the door. It wasn’t until the door closed and you’d watched him head down the street a good ways before you left out a breath. You made it a few steps down the hall before your entire body demanded that you sit down and tremble for a while.
The priest was gone, for now, but who knew how long until he was back? He didn’t have enough evidence now, but that didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t find some. Or make some up- all he needed was enough to make the local governor force a search of your house, and there was no way you could hide the angel from that. You covered your face with your hands, trying to breathe slowly. If they found you, they could kill you.
Someone slumped down next to you. The angel. It pressed up close to your side, petting at your shoulder like it had heard about being comforting, but it hadn’t ever experienced it. One of its wings draped over you.
There was quiet for a while. The angel touched its head to yours, eyes closed. It was warm, tucked beneath its wing. Calming. You took deep breaths and thought hard.
The only evidence that you’d taken the angel at all was that the angel was there with you. Maybe there was some other evidence at the scene, but the angel was the big problem. The solution was, obviously, to get rid of the angel.
Well, not get rid of it. More like… set it free. They were still an angel, after all. They’d needed some basic training in how to be a person, but certainly they could survive on their own. And, well, it would ease some of the pressure on you, financial and legal.
The angel shifted next to you. You glanced at them. They gave you a once-over, then stood and headed off to your room. A few seconds later, they reemerged, dragging a fair amount of blankets with them. Before you could ask what they were doing, they had already knelt next to you and were shoving the blankets all around you. They bundled you up and carefully lay you on the ground. For your part, you allowed it to happen. The angel seemed to have something they wanted to do.
Once you were wrapped in blankets and lying down, the angel settled next to you. There was a rather proud look on its face and you realized, with a burst of amusement, that it was trying to get you to sleep, as this was more or less what you’d done with the angel to get it to sleep! Did it think you were tired?
The angel shuffled closer, so there was little space between your bodies, and spread a wing over you. The feathers shrouded you in darkness, though there was enough light to just make out the angel’s face. They were as inexpressive as ever, but they seemed to be studying you. When you stared back, with no indication of closing your eyes, they shifted, clearly uncertain what happened next.
“I’m not tired,” you told them. “Though I appreciate the effort.”
They stared at you for a long moment before, with now warning, hopping to their feet and all but running into the kitchen. You took a moment of peace, wrapped in blankets are you were, before following them.
The angel was rummaging through your breadbox. “Are you hungry? What are you doing?” you asked as you approached. The angel thrust a slice of bread at you. “Er. Thank… you?” The angel waited, watching you. It seemed to be expecting you to eat. Just to appease it, you did so. As soon as you started eating, the angel went back to rummaging through your food supplies. It offered you several pieces of dried fruit next, then a couple of strips of jerky. You took them all, though you stopped eating after the first couple of pieces. Once the angel noticed you weren’t eating, they paused and stared.
“Thank you,” you said, a bit bewildered by what was happening. “Are you okay? I don’t really need anything. Is there a reason you’re giving it to me?”
The angel stared at you. Their brows creased ever so slightly- maybe they were upset. You patted their arm, careful not to drop anything that had given you. “Don’t look so worried. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
The angel looked back at you. Hard to tell what they were thinking, as it always was, but you thought they looked content. They took the food back and placed it away again. “Okay,” you told them. “We’ve got some things we’re going to work on.”
First step of getting the angel to live on its own: teach the angel how to be a person. The eating and sleeping bits were taken care of, and the angel had picked up on clothing and even sewing with surprising speed. Regardless of how little information it had known previously, it seemed all you had to do was give it the information once, and it would retain it. That didn’t make teaching it how to bathe any less difficult. And teaching it how to go to the bathroom- well, the less said of that, the better.
And so the week went. You went to work, leaving the angel to hide in your house, then returned home and taught it what you could. It picked up reading so fast you felt like you were reminding it of something rather than teaching it, and teaching it math and money went the same way. The angel even attempted to cook for you, though it hadn’t picked up that you were seasoning the food initially, so the meal was bland. You merely had to explain that to it, though, and the next meal was much improved.
Your next day off approached, not quickly or slowly, just approached. The angel seemed almost agitated, though, as time passed. More distressed when you left, tenser and quieter when you were around. You hadn’t told them about your plan to send them away- to free them, to free them- but perhaps they’d picked up on it on their own. They were still as silent and expressionless as ever, but they stayed near you, their head lowered as they presented you something they’d cooked, or showed you something they’d cleaned or sewed, waiting for your praise or correction.
When your next day off arrived, the angel’s agitation seemed to peak. It hovered near you, wings tucked close to its back. Even when upset, it didn’t show much expression or even move all that much. It just stood, like a stone statue, unhappiness radiating from it. Still, when you told it you were going for a walk, it didn’t protest. Just looked at you and nodded.
Its compliance made you feel guilty, somehow. Even thought you weren’t doing anything wrong. This was the best path. If they angel stayed, they would just be killed or recaptured. Along with you.
The hike to the woods wasn’t usually long, but you had to go the extended route to keep away from people. The angel hid their wings under a bulky robe. It wasn’t a very good disguise, but from a distance and the right angle, they would hopefully be mistaken as a hunchback.
You led the angel deep into the woods, deeper than you would usually venture. The angel flexed their wings, shifting the cloak. Their distress flowed around them, their eyes burning into your lower back. I’m sorry, you thought, even though you weren’t sure why. This was for the best, so why did it hurt?
It took hours of walking, legs sore, before you stopped in a clearing. It was a large clearing, and more oblong than circular, but it was good enough for your purposes. And those purposes were giving the angel somewhere big enough to take off from.
Admittedly, you weren’t certain it could fly, but the wings seemed large and healthy and it had no trouble with walking or any other physical functions after some initial wobbles. It stood to reason that flight would be no different. The angel looked up at the sky, staring. Its wings spread, extending out and out to their full length. It seemed to be giving them a good stretch- there hadn’t been room in your house to do so. After a moment, it gave a couple experimental flaps. Cool wind buffeted you.
The flaps gained in intensity and, for a moment, you thought it would take off right there. But its wings stilled and slipped shut and it looked at you.
“I got you this.” You thrust a basket at them. It wasn’t a lot, but it was what you could spare (technically probably more than you could spare, but a couple days of broth wouldn’t kill you) and the basket had a fabric strap long enough that the angel could wrap it around their body and hold it while flying.
The angel took the basket and peered at the food and water and clothes and single book you’d stockpiled inside. It looked them over for a moment, then glanced back up at you.
It was the second time you’d seen the angel really emote anything and it was sorrow.
The angel’s eyes watered and its apparent confusion at that development seemed to pale in the face of its clear upset. It practically threw the basket back at you, wings spreading and sending a powerful gust across the clearing. Then it opened its mouth and did something you’d never seen it do before.
It wailed. A keening sound of despair. You’d never heard it make any kind of noise before. In fact, it seemed startled by the fact that it had made any kind of noise, though, like the crying, that didn’t seem to stop it. Instead, the angel crumpled to the ground, wings striking the dirt, and wailed.
That wasn’t quite the reaction you’d been expecting. Maybe some protest, but not the clear despair it was displaying. “H-hey, don’t- you’re okay.” You approached the angel cautiously. Its wings kept flexing and slapping against the ground and there was an impressive amount of force behind them. Still, it didn’t direct any of the hits toward you, so it felt reasonably safe to approach.
As soon as you were within a few feet of it, the angel scrambled forward. You almost bolted, but the angel didn’t attack like you though it might. It pressed its forehead to the dirt an inch from your boots and spread its wings, every feather on end and quivering. When you tried to take a step back, the angel shuffled forward, pressing its head even more firmly to the ground. It seemed to be trembling.
Your heart ached. What were you doing?
“Look, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought it would be safer if you weren’t… But I didn’t mean to upset you.” You knelt next to the angel and placed your hand on its head. The angel went still. For a moment, the stillness was like a frightened dog, expecting a strike, then it melted into a gentle contentedness.
It took a couple moments before the angel was quiet completely again. They lifted their head, face sticky from tears and a bit of dirt smudged along their cheeks. The entire scene was a little pathetic. “Here.” You pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed at their face. After a moment of letting you do so, they took it and cleaned their own face off.
Once its face was clear and it had calmed down a little, the angel looked at you balefully. It seemed to be waiting. Almost resigned. But still frightened. Like it was waiting for a scolding or punishment.
“Are you okay now?” you asked. The angel looked balefully at you. One of its hands lifted, like it was reaching out for you, but it paused before it could make contact. Its head drooped. Its wings drooped too, proud feathers dragging in the dirt. “I’m sorry,” you said again. The angel curled in on itself further. Its eyes were on the ground. “I’m not trying to send you away, all right?”
One of the feathered ear-things on the side of its head twitched. You took that as an invitation to continue. “I thought… I thought you’d be safer if you left, though.”
The angel looked up at that. They didn’t change their expression much, but they were staring intently. You reached out, slowly enough that they could move away if they wanted to. They didn’t, and you were able to rest your hand on the side of their head. Your fingers brushed against the soft, downy little feathers of their ear-wings and the somewhat-tangled mess of their hair. The angel closed their eyes and leaned into your touch. Their entire body shuddered in a sigh. “The people who captured you are still here,” you continued. “If they find you, they’re going to hurt both of us. Maybe kill us.”
The angel leaned away from your touch and lifted its gaze to yours. They were focused on you, intently so. “It’s best if you leave,” you told them. “They won’t be able to find you if you fly away, and they won’t be able to tie anything to me, either. We’ll both be safer.”
It was quiet for several moments. The angel stared at you, their wings twitching with aborted motions. They looked between you and the sky, over and over. Their brows wrinkled. Then, in a flash, they reached out and enveloped you.
Technically, it was just a hug, but the angel’s sheer size and the addition of their wings made it so much more. They surrounded you, tucking you into their chest and holding you close. You could feel their heartbeat, jackrabbiting under their ribs, and their heavy breathing. They were soft and warm around you. One of their hands moved to cradle the back of your head.
You cried. It wasn’t a lot of crying. Mostly it was some particularly wet breathing and a few tears. But the angel held you closer, rocking you against its soft chest and you felt warm and shielded. It presses its cheek to the top of your head and you felt one of its ear-wings flapping, like it was stretching out to touch you.
It was a nice moment, but it couldn’t last. You stopped crying and slipped your way back out of the angel’s arms. They let you, tucking their wings back against their back again and their arms falling back against their sides. Looking into their face, you felt… guilty? That didn’t seem fair. You were doing this for their own good. Right?
The longer you looked at them, the less you could convince yourself of that. Your shoulders drooped and a fresh wave of tears came to your eyes. The angel didn’t want to leave. You wanted them to leave, because them staying there would be a problem for you. A genuine problem, yes, a problem that could get you killed. But it wasn’t fair to pretend that this was good for the angel, nor was it fair to ignore how the angel was feeling. It didn’t want to leave. It was terrified when it realized you were going to try to make it leave.
You hung your head. “I’m sorry.” The angel watched you. “I… I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. I don’t want you to leave, but we’re both going to be in trouble if you stay. We need a way to keep you safe, but I don’t know how to do that, and I can’t think clearly about it when I’m going to be in trouble if you get found out too-” Your voice choked off, breath heaving in panic. You scrubbed the heel of your hand against your eyes until it hurt, until the pain grounded you.
Fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging it away from your eyes. The angel was holding onto you, both hands wrapping around your wrist. Their strength was more than you’d anticipated. Perhaps it was their general softness or their seeming clumsiness or cluelessness, but you’d never seen them as particularly tough.
The hand that held your wrist, however, was not weak. It was firm and unyielding. When you pulled away, it let you go without a hint of resistance, but you had no doubt that if it had wanted to keep hold of you, you wouldn’t have been going anywhere.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you said. “I wasn’t sure if you would understand.”
The angel brushed its hand gently along the side of your face, cupping your cheek. Its face wasn’t terribly expressive, but there was something calmer, almost serene in its expression. It got to its feet, shaking out its wings, and extended its hand for you. There was a stunned moment before you took the hand and the angel pulled you to your feet. They kept your hand around theirs as they gathered up the basket you’d initially made for them and started to leave the clearing.
You let them lead you along until you realized they were leading you straight back to the village, and even when you got quite close to the buildings, they were not slowing down. “Wait,” you said. “What are you doing?” The angel gave your hand a squeeze, but they didn’t slow down. Anxiety prickled over your skin as you entered the town and headed toward the center.
People barely noticed you at first, but within a few minutes of marching through the town, people had started to point and stare. And then the staring turned into whispers and awe. Some people scrambled away. Some people gathered and followed from a distance, watching in something like awe.
You gave up on trying to stop them and instead walked alongside them to whisper furiously. “Hey. What are you doing? Do you have some kind of plan? I can’t tell what’s going through your head right now. I’m kind of just assuming you know what you’re doing, but it’d be nice to have some kind of confirmation.”             The angel squeezed your hand again. Their thumb traced over your knuckles. Their expression was serene, calm, like they’d just realized something that comforted them. It was reassuring to you, so you allowed them to drag you wherever they wanted to take you.
Until you realized they were dragging you toward the church.
“Wait.” You didn’t try to pull away again, but you did trip over yourself in your realization, making the angel slow down. “You can’t be serious- we can’t go there! That’s the exact place we’re supposed to be avoiding.”
The angel stared at you for a moment, then released your hand. It nodded to you before turning and heading toward the church again.
“Wha- wait!” The angel paused, allowing you to catch up. “You’re still going, huh?”
The angel stared at you. You sighed. “Okay. I guess we’re going, then.
The angel held out a hand. You took it once more. Together, you walked toward the church.
As soon as you stepped through the doorway, the angel drew itself up, wings fluffing. The entire thing was quite intimidating to watch, given its already tall stature. It glanced around, as if assessing the space. Warm, honey-gold sunlight filtered through the tall, stained glass windows and illuminating the wood of the benches. When the sunlight hit the angel, it seemed to surround them, glimmering off their body in a way that wasn’t quite natural. Almost like a halo around its entire body.
You waited, mostly trying to see what the angel was going to do next. As it turned out, you didn’t have to wait very long, because a pissed-looking priest stormed into the sanctuary.
“The beast returns to holy ground,” he snarled. You stepped in front of the angel, arms spread.
“They’re not a beast. You’re the one who captured them and chained them in your basement. They haven’t done anything!”
“They have been cast out of the divine host. Their fall and subsequent capture are what is deserved for those who would defy our Lord.” The priest didn’t sound enraged or even particularly vicious. His tone was cool and cold. He approached, steps clunking heavily against the cool wooden floor of the church. You resisted the urge to step back and steeled your resolve as the priest approached. The angel didn’t seem to be doing much, though you could feel their presence at your back. “Your assistance with their disobedience is a serious strike against you, but the Lord God will welcome all stray members back to his flock, provided you are willing to repent and return the beast to its confinement.”             The priest was leaning into your face, so close you could feel his breath touching your skin. The angel was still unmoving, but there was more tension to their body now. Like a big cat getting into a crouch.
Your breath was trembling, but you managed a clear enough whisper. “Fuck off.”
The priest leaned back. “Hm. Very well. May God have mercy on your soul.” The gestured toward a couple of men standing toward the back of the church. They started to approach, brandishing their short swords. “I would suggest surrender,” the priest said. “Unless you are eager to find out how the Lord God punishes those who disobey his-”
The angel lunged. Its wing brushed against your shoulder as it darted around you and slammed into the priest. He fell, the angel on top of him. Their wings shielded you from seeing what they were doing, but the choked gurgle from the priest let you know enough about what was happening.
The guards, who had been standing on either side of the aisle, near the pulpit, charged. One of them nearly caught the angel with their sword, but the angel managed to recoil just in time, leaving the priest gasping for air on the ground. The guards moved up, pushing the angel back as they blocked the priest from it. Together, they pushed the angel back a few more steps, advancing threateningly, until the angel glanced back and saw you. It stopped, digging its feet in, and turned back to the guards.
The angel spread their wings, blockading the entire aisle. It was difficult to see what happened next, but there was a scrambling noise of footsteps and the angel tucked their wings in and lunged.
Thanks to the armor the guards were wearing, this struggle was more prolonged. The angel’s wings flapped, coming down on the guard they were fighting with blows stronger than a fist could hope to achieve. One of the angel’s hands clutched at the guard’s wrist, driving the sword away from the angel’s belly. They wrestled the guard slowly to the ground, clawing at them with nails that seemed too long and sharp and stomping hard enough that the guard’s armor dented under their feet.
Chills wracked your body as you watched. The angel was a mortal, yes, but you’d clearly forgotten: mortal was not the same thing as human. And the strength with which the angel was tearing into the guard was not human.
And then a cold metal line settled against your throat. Sharp and cruel. A hand locked around your torso, pinning your arms to your sides. Icy terror settled into your brain and every vein in your body. Right. The angel was taking care of one of the guards. But there had been two.
“Call off the fucking bird,” the guard said, “before I slit your throat.”
The sheer terror in his voice should have made the threat less effective, but realizing that he was scared enough to kill you without thought was nearly enough to make you start begging for your life immediately. The angel whipped around as the first terrified whimper escaped your mouth.
It was the third time you’d seen the angel truly express emotion. And they were angry.
They bared their teeth and stretched their wings out, flexing them to nearly their full span. It was an impressive display, and a terrifying one. The knife dug a little more into your throat. Panic clawed your belly to shreds.
“Fucking stupid worthless shit,” the guard cursed behind you. The knife kept trembling at your throat, threatening to nick a little too deep. The angel watched, brows deeply knitted. It twitched its wings a few times, freezing when the blade drew blood at your throat. “You fucking take one step closer and your little pet human bleeds out like a pig,” the guard said. It wasn’t even a vicious or snarling threat. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. But the knife was just as sharp and the trembling was making it slip against your skin in a dangerous fashion.
The angel paused. It straightened up out of its attack crouch, wings tucking against its back. The knife eased at your throat a little. The angel took in a slow, deep breath, eyes on you. Its expression relaxed into something gentler as it met your eyes. It seemed to take a deep breath. Its wings relaxed. It closed its eyes. And it began to sing.
It wasn’t singing with its mouth or vocal cords. It was the same singing you’d heard in the beginning, the singing that had drawn you to the church’s basement. Less like the vocalization of a human, but more like an emotion made into pure sound. It vibrated through your limbs and settled in your chest, a heavy weight of sadness and fear.
The song pulsed, rose and fell, over and over again, thrumming and pulsing and changing as it went. It started as a terrible projection of fear and pain, injury and despair. Then the pain was threaded with hope, then a joy and relief so palpable it was its own kind of pain. Peace and comfort followed that, almost like being settled in a warm bed after a nice meal. Then an abrupt sharpening of terror and sadness before turning to determination, then blind, horrible rage. The anger pressed in around you, bearing down like a sharpened spear. But the rage wasn’t quite aimed at you. It was aimed at the man holding you. And being the target of an angel’s pure rage, even when nothing physical is being done with it, is a daunting prospect. The guard’s knees went weak and the knife at your throat wavered.
The song intensified. Your own legs were trembling under the weight of it. Anger and hope and fear and happiness and even love, pressing down on you, emotion given a deep, physical property. You sobbed, barely feeling the knife at your throat. Had it fallen away? Could you just not feel it anymore? What was real? All that was real was the song and the love that was building in the song, growing more intense around you. It was insulating, like the angel was trying to wrap you in the song until you were surrounded by care, until there was nothing else in the world.
You blinked your eyes. They hadn’t been closed, but you hadn’t been seeing anything. It had been more like the world had shifted slightly out of focus and you were just getting it back to center.
You were lying down across a lap. The shifting of wings above you let you know whose lap you were lying across. The angel was holding you, cradling your head against its body. There was still the faintest traces of song humming from it, though it wasn’t the great, overbearing crescendo it had once been. You made an attempt to sit up and the angel shifted around you, letting you move while still offering support.
“What happened?” you asked. You felt woozy, a bit out-of-body. The angel, obviously, didn’t say anything, but it did stretch one of its wings toward the crumpled shape of the other guard. He was lying on the ground, unmoving. “Is he-” you started, then stopped when you realized his chest was rising and falling. He seemed stunned, like you’d been a few moments ago.
You twisted your head around to get a better look at the rest of the room and winced. Stinging pain radiated from your neck. The angel nudged your hand away and ran its fingers over the lines cut into your skin. Right, the knife. They didn’t seem to be actively bleeding anymore, so they must not have been deep, but the angel still seems distressed by their very presence.
“Are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head back to look up into their face. The angel stares back at you, their ear-wings folded calmly against either side of their head. They seemed physically unhurt, or they weren’t in so much pain that they were showing it. “Good.” You sorted through your muddled thoughts. The song had hit you so hard, it was almost like your own body had gone through all those emotions it had conveyed at a rapid pace. No wonder the guard was stunned. Your head was swimming. But then your brain finally catches on a thought and you startle. “The priest!”
The angel caught you as you attempted to scramble upright and assisted you to your feet. The priest was close to the pulpit, but he was as collapsed as the guard. He seemed to be recovering faster, though that primarily consisted of him flopping his limbs in all directions. You approached, the angel close behind you.
The priest stared up at you as you got within speaking range. His face was completely under his control, unlike the rest of him, and a sneer contorted his expression. “You cannot win against His holy will. God will ensure that His holy justice will-”
“Uh huh,” you said. “He doesn’t really seem to be doing too much smiting right now, though.” The priest groaned on the ground, grinding his teeth.
“Are you going to kill me?” he said, a semi-hysterical laugh bubbling from his lips. “It’s no matter. I will return to His Holiness and my eternal home in heaven. And you- do you think you’ll be able to stay here with blood on your hands and that beast stalking your footsteps?”
“They’re not a beast,” you snapped before forcibly calming yourself. “I’m not going to kill you.” The angel shifted, clearly irritated, but you held up your hand to them. “I don’t have anything to kill you for. You haven’t done anything to me. Not really.” You turned to the angel. “It’s their decision. If they want you dead- that’s up to them. Not me.”
The angel watched you as you spoke, then it turned its gaze to the priest. You placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder. Well, close to its shoulder. The angel was very tall. There was a moment of silence. The angel’s wings twitched. Maybe it was hesitant to try and kill now that it wasn’t the heat of the moment. Maybe it was weighing the pros and cons. The priest rolled onto his stomach and groaned.
The angel turned and pressed a kiss to your head. It happened so fast, you didn’t register it until the angel was turning and grabbing the man on the ground. They hefted him up by his lapels and started hauling him out of the church. You hurried along behind them.
It took only a few moments for the angel to make it to the enormous front doors of the church. They shoved them open with only one hand, sending more light across the sanctuary and revealing the large crowd of people milling around. At least half the town was gathered outside the church, presumably drawn by the commotion and the sight of an angel. The angel looked around them with what seemed to be satisfaction, then hefted the priest again, holding the man out in front of them. Then the angel extended their wings to their full length, drew the priest in close again, so their faces were mere inches apart, and began another song.
The previous song, the one inside the church, had been intense like holding your hand over an open flame, but this was intense like having a spear driven slowly into your brain. This was focused, purposeful. A spire of anger and pain. The world flickered behind your eyes, an image pressed against your brain- the memory of being thrown away, then lost, then trapped. The rage and grief and panic of being trapped. The priest’s face loomed down at you, sneering, cold, and the terror that welled inside of you twisted not just your stomach but your entire being. You were cast out and alone and the only thing you could do was scream as someone else caged you.
At some point, the angel had dropped the priest. They stepped closer to you, tucking their wings about you as the song ended, trembling and weak. They seemed tired, their wings drooping along with their posture. Their body slumped. They weren’t leaning against you, but they were swaying toward you. You reached up to take their face in your hands.
“You okay?” you asked. The angel blinked at you. A few more notes trembled out of it. You could feel them pass from the angel into you. And with them, something like an image: you, scoring out lines of text on a wall with a makeshift chisel, gently dimming the blinding brightness of the room to the comfortable darkness. The angel gave a long, shuddering sigh, then slumped forward until its body weight was slowly but surely crushing you.
The angel was asleep before either of you hit the ground. The priest didn’t seem to be doing much better. He was curled on the ground, occasionally twitching. Maybe he was crying, you weren’t sure. A couple of people walked over toward him, but no one seemed particularly worried. Had everyone else heard the song and made the connection too? Perhaps the angel had just been trying to tell its story. Maybe that was its revenge- making the entire town turn against him.
By the point you’d processed that information, you’d been smushed to the ground. The angel was big enough that you really couldn’t lift them at your best, and you were exhausted by the day. After only a couple seconds to shoving, you resigned yourself to being on the ground.
Footsteps shuffled closer and you looked up to see a few of your neighbors around you. “Need help?” an older man, one you recognized as someone who taught at the local university. You curled one arm protectively over the angel, cautious. “We’re not gonna hurt ‘em. Just trying to help get you home.”
You considered. Then nodded. The angel stirred as a few people worked together to lift it off of you, but it settled when you patted its arm. Slowly, you and the angel returned to your home.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting after you got to your house. For that moment, you didn’t expect anything at all, except for a long nap because you were exhausted. And you did get that, lying in the blanket pile on your floor with the angel. They practically crawled on top of you several times, and your subsequent crawling away so you weren’t crushed to death ended with the blanket pile being almost dragged to the other side of the room. The angel was, of course, never deterred, and it was on top of you by morning.
What you hadn’t anticipated happening at all was the gifts that kept appearing at your house. Clearly, your neighbors were dropping them off. Notes were often attached, sometimes independent of any gifts- wishing you well, giving you messages of support, and expressions of general kindness. There was food in the pile, from vegetables to fresh cheese and bread, as well as some cloth and even a quilt. That one, in particular, made tears come to your eyes. It had clearly been in a closet for a while, given the musty smell, but it was handmade and the kindness of the gesture was unmistakable.
It took you some time to remember what most of these gifts were for- not until you read the last note on the pile. It was from the town’s doctor, a simple gift of a few herbs used for healing, though they were in bundles too small to be useful. The note was simply ‘For health, luck, and peace.’”
The gifts, the note and herbs. You knew what they were for. You’d participated in the tradition before, though your gifts had been pretty paltry. They were traditional gifts given to a newcomer, sometimes when there was a baby born, but also sometimes when a person in the town married someone from outside the town. Gifts of welcome and acceptance.
You returned to the angel, arms laden with the gifts, and offered them to it. The angel seemed vaguely overwhelmed by them, but accepted them nonetheless. It still seemed tired, and so you spent the day at home, quiet and undisturbed. You bathed the angel, scrubbing bits of blood off it and trying to get the feathers of its wings clean. The angel, after some insistence, ended up bathing you, as well, and it fussed over the few bruises you’d gained in the fight. Another night was spent curled in the same nest-bed. This time, you just let the angel flatten you with its body. It was sort of cozy.
The next day, you returned to the church. The town was still a little quiet- there weren’t as many people out as there would usually be- but the people you did see nodded politely to you. Their nods were a little longer, a little lower, than they usually would be. Almost like slight bows. Though you weren’t entirely sure why they would be bowing at you. Perhaps they were bowing to the angel at your back.
The church seemed strangely abandoned, despite it having only been a bit over a day since everything had happened. The guard’s body was still crumpled on the floor, some blood splattered around him and dried to the floor. You approached it. The angel followed, though their wings fluffed up with agitation.
There wasn’t much else you could do with the body. You lifted it, with the angel’s help, and placed it on a pew. You cleaned the blood and viscera on the floor. Then, finally, you took the body downstairs, stripped it, and wrapped it in the white funeral cloth. The angel helped, with an expression on its face that seemed mournful, though it was hard to be sure.
Perhaps you could have left it like that, left the man wrapped in cloth and walked home. But it felt weird to do so. The angel helped you carry the man up into the graveyard. Then you dug out a pit and placed the body in it before burying them.
The angel knelt next to the grave, resting a hand on the dirt. “Sorry,” you told the grave. You weren’t sure where the other two were- the other guard and the priest, but you hadn’t seen them. Perhaps they’d been driven out. The townspeople certainly seemed to have taken your side. The man in the grave wasn’t entirely innocent- he had certainly seemed willing to kill or hurt the both of you. But you felt weird. The other two had lived. He hadn’t. Luck of the draw.
The angel leaned against you, just enough to feel the warmth of their presence. You sighed. They were safe, at the very least, and they were accepted by the town.
You looked at the angel. “What do you want to do now?”
The angel looked back at you. They blinked, once, slowly. Then they took your hand and pulled you into the church.
You knew where you were going before you got there. The heavy doors were solidly sealed, though no longer chained. The angel opened them, letting go of your hand as they did so. They stepped through the doorway, then looked back at you. You stepped forward and took their hand. And so, they led you back down to the basement.
The room was pitch black. You stretched out your hand and felt the rough walls. As you continued, you could feel the words carved into the stone, and some of the scratches and gouges where you’d carved the words away.
The angel moved toward the center of the room, away from the walls, and you followed them. They moved to the spot they’d been chained in. One of their hands was still around yours. The darkness of the room pressed in on you, so black there was no difference between your eyes being open or closed. The angel’s hand remained, the only point of contact in the room. Their thumb brushed over your knuckles, their fingers intertwining with yours. You could hear their breathing. You breathed, too. Together, in the small, dark room where you’d first met. There was nothing else. There was only the room.
The angel tugged on your hand, and you moved with them until you were flush against their chest. They hugged you, briefly, then sighed. It shuddered through all their bones on the way out, and seemed to take something with it. Like something they had been holding onto was released.
Then they pulled on your hand again and led you back out of the basement.
When you emerged into an area that was light enough to see, you caught sight of the angel’s face. It was the fourth time you had seen the angel really emote. And it was happy. There was a certain level of sadness or mournfulness to it as well. But the angel was smiling. Its gaze turned to you and it smiled wider still.
You cleaned the church for a while. It felt more like habit than anything else. Although there was something quite satisfying about going through the priest’s office and dumping everything onto the street. There should have been other officials in the church, but there weren’t any. Perhaps they’d fled when the priest was deposed, perhaps they’d just not wanted to stick around now that the angel they’d trapped was free. Who could say. You weren’t overly fussed at the loss.
When you emerged into the sanctuary, sore and a bit grimy, there were people there.
It was just a couple, a man and a woman. Then you saw the bundle they were clutching between them. A baby, presumably one born not too long ago. It squirmed a little in the blankets, but it didn’t cry. Its breathing seemed… maybe a little labored? You weren’t sure- you weren’t expert in babies.
The angel seemed to perk up when it noticed this, eyes intent, though it made no move to get closer to the couple. “Hello,” the woman ventured. You wracked your brain for their names. Tabitha, maybe? And the man was… Gerald? “We- we, ah.” Her voice quavered and she held the baby a little tighter.
“We came here for a blessing,” Gerald said. “We weren’t sure…”
Oh. Their baby was ill. “You might want to go to the town doctor,” you suggested.
“We were there,” Tabitha insisted. “They gave us medicine. But just in case we…” She glanced around the church, clearly anxious.
Right. They would want a blessing for their baby. One that would maybe grant good health, or at least a peaceful passing and a safe journey after, if not. You chewed the inside of your lip, unwilling to turn them away. But it wasn’t like you knew how to perform a blessing, or hand any authority to do so-
The angel caught your wrist and started tugging you along toward them. The couple huddled closer together at the sight of the angel, but both of them remained there. There was something in their expressions… perhaps awe? Perhaps even a flicker of hope. The angel stopped in front of them. Its hand shifted on your wrist until it was properly holding hands with you. Then it extended its other hand toward the couple.
They barely hesitated before holding their child out.
The angel didn’t quite touch the child, but their hand hovered over them. The air hummed with the faintest vibrations of a song. The baby squirmed. Your hand, the one the angel was holding, felt warm.
And then it was over. The angel dropped their hand. Their ear-wings fluttered a few times. They dipped their head to the parents in a slight bow.
“Thank you,” Tabitha whispered. She clutched the baby to her chest and it kicked its little legs a few times. “Thank you.”
The baby lived. Maybe it was the blessing, or maybe it was the medicine, it wasn’t clear. But clearly work had gotten around, because people came to you for blessings at least once a day. The angel always obliged, though they refused to work if you weren’t around, and they nearly always looked to you for something like permission before they performed the blessing. The only time they didn��t was when they were performing one for young kids or babies.
Perhaps the blessings was why you set up station in the church. It was easier for people to get to than your house, and the angel didn’t seem particularly bothered by being there. Sometimes, the people who came for blessings wanted to talk, too, and you were better suited for it than the angel. They listened, certainly, but people who were emotionally worn down didn’t tend to react well to an angel staring them down with a blank expression. You gave all the advice you could, which wasn’t much. They seemed to be happy after talking with you, though, so you kept at it.
The days settled into a steady routine. You would head to the church and take care of problems that any people had, be it by distributing blessings or by just talking to them. Then you’d gather the donations that had been left overnight and sort through them. The angel was a good help whenever you had to clean- their wings allowed them to get to areas in the high, sloping ceiling that you could never manage.
When they weren’t cleaning or blessing, they tended to hover around you. Not in an oppressive way- they just were usually nearby. Sometimes, if your mood turned, they would come closer, settling next to you, and either stretching their wings out toward you or draping their torso against you. The touch was comforting, and you found yourself responding similarly to their mood. You could almost sense when they were anxious, and they seemed pleased when you were nearby.
You’d just finished administering advice to a small crowd of worried people about a spate of rapid deaths and had settled down to look through the few offerings that had been left when it hit you. “Ah, fuck,” you said. The angel glanced over at you, ear wings twitching. “I’m a priest now, aren’t I?”
The angel headed over and flumped down next to you. Their wings wrapped around you in a comforting manner. “I give blessings and advice, I maintain the church, people leave offerings. Isn’t that a priest?”
The angel squeezed you with its wings. It nuzzled its head against yours. “I mean, I’m not a priest of God,” you mused out loud. “I don’t think I care much about Him.” You looked down at the angel, who stilled under your gaze and tilted its head until it was looking into your eyes. “I guess if I am a priest, I would be one for you, right? That makes me your priest.”
The angel shuddered. The motion trembled through its wings, making every feather stand on end. Its eyes went wide. Then it surged forward to mash its lips with yours.
It was so startling that you simply fell backward, unable to stand up against the angel’s enthusiasm. “Woah, woah, hey!” you said as the angel fumbled on top of you. One of your hands found the back of their head and tangled in their hair. The angle went still. “You okay?”
The angel closed its eyes and sang a few notes. An image rose into your mind- an image of you, leaning over the angel, your arms outstretched and a smile on your face. The emotion the angel felt surged so powerfully you could feel it in your fingertips. Vague other images swam through your mind- images of a couple kissing and a sense of both curiosity and jealousy, images of you and a deep sense of affection, and images of the town with a sense of protectiveness. The final image was one of you and the angel, wrapped together in each others’ arms, and the sense of want that came from that image made your breath catch.
When you came back to yourself, the song fading, the angel was blinking down at you. Their eyes were wet. You reached up and they leaned into your touch as soon as it met their cheek.
“Okay,” you said. “We can try this too. Let me show you.” Your other hand went back into their hair and you pulled them down for a kiss.
It was enthusiastic, if unskilled. When you broke away for air, the angel kissed furiously at every bit of skin they could reach. Scattered bits of song slipped from their lungs, tingling along your skin and mind in dizzying fashion.
Eventually, the angel backed off, apparently exhausted by the outburst of emotion. They slumped on the ground next to you, though there was an apparent reluctance to break contact. They kept a hand on your stomach, feeling you breathe. For your part, the connection sent wild sparks running through your body.
“I’m glad you’re here,” you said after a few moments. The angel tugged you closer, pressing its face to the top of your head and heaving a contented sigh. Even without the song, all you could sense in the slow, steady breath was love, love, love.
230 notes · View notes
vikisbay · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧
【MEGUMI F.】 flowers.
A/N —> I can just imagine Megumi trying to hard to hide his feelings for you but Gojo can see right through him and so he tells Megumi to leave you flower until he’s ready to confess !! ★彡
✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧
➤ it’s been two weeks, two whole weeks of flowers being left outside your dorm room every single day. There’s never a note leaving you flustered and confused. You had asked around the entire school and no one knew anything. “I wished I knew who it wass!” you said with an annoyed huff.
Fushiguro, Kugisaki and Itadori sat with you on the ground of the training field. You had all been training for hours while you talked there ears off with all your different theories. You decide that it must of been someone outside of Jujutsu Tech “do you really need to know who it is…?” Megumi asked clearly annoyed with you at this point.
“Yes, yes I do?” You threw a handful of grass at the raven-haired boy, “I think it’s Yuta!” Nobara stated her thoughts ignoring Megumi “he’s always looking at you” she pointed a finger at you emphasizing her idea.
“Whatever” Megumi rolled his eyes before storming away from the group leaving all three of you confused “what’s got his panties in a twist…” you muttered throwing the other two first years in a laughing fit, “he’s…just jealous” Yuji said in between laughs.
His words causing you to stop giggling “w-what?” Itadori and Kugisaki look at each before falling back into there laughing fit. “Ugh you guys are no help” you rolled your eyes and walked off to go find Fushiguro. When you didn’t see him in the hall you decided to knock on his room door.
You stood in front of his dorm waiting to see if he was even inside, after a few minutes past you decided that he probably wasn’t in his dorm so you turned to walk away “what…?” A low voice said behind you making to spin on your heels back to the now opened door.
His hair was wet and he was wearing gray sweat pants, he clearly had just gotten out of the shower the biggest give away was that… he didn’t have a shirt on.
Oh god
“Why’re you here?” He raised a brow at you, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts “oh… I just wanted to check up on you… you know, because you stormed off…” you tried your absolute hardest not to let yours eyes wander to his exposed chest.
“I’m fine” he said quickly, he moved the towel that adorned his head to rest on his neck. “Well… can I come in?” A small smile found its way to your face “I promise I won’t talk about the flowersss!” You said jokingly.
He nodded his head slightly, you pushed past him and made your way to lay on his bed “training was so exhausting…” your eyes shut sleep slowly enveloping you. You could feel a dip in the bed when Fushiguro sat down next to you “do… do you enjoy the flowers…?” You opened your eyes to look at him “definitely!” You nodded your head happily.
“Is there… anyone you want it to be…?” You shut your eyes once again smiling at the idea of a certain someone giving you these flowers “there’s one person”.
“Oh…”
His tone confused you for the 100th time today “why do you sound disappointed…?” You sat up on the bed opening your eyes to look into his, “I’m not” he shook his head quickly, “mhmm” your eyes wandered across his room and soon landed on a bouquet of white roses.
“You should go back to your dorm… it’s getting late” he said getting up from the bed, you ignored what you had saw and quickly exchanged good nights. You were tired from your long day and decided to call it a night.
─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────
The next day was another extreme training session with Maki and Toge, you tried your best to take your mind of your current situation, you and Maki walked back to your dorm to find another Bouquet of flowers.
But this time they were familiar… way too familiar.
It was a bouquet of white roses. The same bouquet that you had seen in megumi’s dorm last night. You pick up the flowers and made a run for Fushiguro’s room. When you got there you started knocking non-stop “I know your in there Megumi!” you yelled from outside the door.
The door was pulled open, an annoyed expression planted on the boys face “wha-“ you slammed the bouquet into his chest “so it’s you! It’s been you all along!” His face went from annoyed to absolute fear and shock “I-I can explain” his fingers wrapped around the bouquet nervously.
“It’s not what it looks lik-“ his eyes widened when you pulled him into a passionate kiss, you hands moving to his hair, your fingers getting tangled in his dark locks and his own hands found there way to your waist.
You pulled away from the kiss trying to catch your breath, he looked into your eyes “if I knew you felt the same… I would’ve told you sooner” his voice was just barely a whisper, you roll your eyes before pulling him into another softer kiss, his lips soft when they pressed against yours.
“I really love you Gumi…”
“I love you too…”
— yours truly, Viki
✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧
130 notes · View notes
raincitygirl76 · 3 months ago
Text
I think what frustrated me most in season 3 about the August video plot being wrapped up in the first five minutes wasn’t that August was getting away with it, it was that S2 had specifically created a scenario where he couldn’t get away with it. It had laid groundwork for a plot in S3 that suddenly disappeared, with visible plot holes left behind.
In S1, I wasn’t surprised when August got away with filming and posting the video. Rich, well-connected sex offenders avoid prosecution and public exposure all the time. It felt unjust, particularly because the royal court were protecting a sex offender over his victim who was Kristina’s own child. But I understood exactly why Kristina and the royal court had made those choices, even though I didn’t like said choices. If the video plot had been left there, as it was at the end of 1.06, I wouldn’t have objected. August got away with it, of course he did. That’s just what happens.
But in season 2, the video plot gradually built to a crescendo where it became urgently relevant again and August seemed in genuine danger of prosecution and even prison (both Rickard and Rosh mentioned prison). We saw it from 2.01 onwards, when Wilhelm took every possible opportunity to inflict petty humiliations on August, since he’d been denied real justice.
We saw it in Marcus suddenly taking an interest in Simon. They’d obviously been acquaintances for years, with their moms being friends. And they’re two of the very few out gay boys in Bjardstad. But Marcus never approached Simon romantically until a few weeks after the video was released, and then he approached intensely.
We also saw the video plot building in 2.05 when Wilhelm finally revealed to Simon that August was the perpetrator, and Simon was furious Wilhelm had known this for so long and kept it to himself. Simon felt disgusted and betrayed that his fellow victim of the video had protected the perpetrator. And we saw the difference in attitude between Wilhelm and Simon. Wilhelm pragmatic and cynical, knowing the full machinery of the royal court would gear up to destroy Simon.
Simon determined to press charges and convinced he could somehow hold August to account in spite of the royal court. And the conflict where Simon directly accuses Wilhelm of keeping secrets claiming to protect him, but really protecting himself. And Wilhelm later echoes that accusation in the jubilee speech, although I’m getting ahead of myself.
As of 2.05, on my first watch back in November 2022, I still assumed August would continue to get away with it. August had money and influence, Simon had neither. I already knew how these things so often go in real life. Also, August had Sara, warning him in advance that Simon knew and was planning to press charges. As of the end of 2.05, Simon was planning to go to the police and Wilhelm was doing nothing to warn August or the royal court. I was compelled, but I was also distracted by the curtains scene.
At the beginning of 2.06, we saw August’s desperation, him reaching out to Jan-Olof, and Jan-Olof’s indifference. We could see August starting to panic like a rat in a trap, seeing long delayed justice approaching him. And then August invited Alexander into his room and made his proposal. The rat was no longer panicking, he was fighting back with every weapon at his disposal.
In 2.06, when August and Alexander met Wilhelm at the Society’s party venue, Wilhelm was the one panicking, August had his fear under control again. He used the full force of his personality, and of Alexander’s desire for revenge against Wilhelm, to assure Wilhelm that no matter what he and Simon did, August would slide away from the mess, reputation intact. And Simon would be the one in trouble with the police. A smug August wass back on top of the world, with his twin schemes to discredit Simon and blame Alexander whirring along beautifully.
And then we had the shooting range scene, where devastating secrets came out. In the aftermath, Simon accepted that he couldn’t seek justice from the police without implicating himself for the drugs. For the second time, August had gotten away with his crime. But I was full of questions anyway.
Had August overreached himself by admitting his crime to Alexander? Yeah, Alexander hated Wilhelm, but his arrangement with August wass built on mutual convenience, not loyalty to August. A big question mark for Season 3. Also, nobody at the royal court actually liked August, he was just next in line. If word got out to the media and the public that August was the perpetrator, Kristina & Co. would likely throw him overboard without a second thought.
So throughout 2.06, my mind was awhirl with possibilities. Yes, technically, August seemed to have gotten away with it for a second time, but the video plot had been building since 2.01. I was starting to wonder if August might actually go down for his crime finally. And then Sara pulled out her cell phone and called the police to report a crime, and I yelped so loudly at the TV I scared the cat.
Finally, the crucial payoff for six episodes of build-up. Finally, the police had been involved, and soon after them, I was sure the media would get wind of it. It seemed like the perfect climax to the season, setting up a riveting conflict for S3.
As of the end of 2.06, I wasn’t really expecting August to go to prison for the video, even though both Rosh and Rickard hinted that could happen (earlier in S2). But I was expecting August to be arrested, and probably even charged. I expected the royal court to interfere somewhere along the way and use behind the scenes influence to get the charges dropped. Probably as part of a quid pro quo with August whereby he’d take sole blame for the video. Thus protecting the royal court from the public finding out they had already known it was August.
But I was also expecting the media and the public to be all over August. Once the police were involved (and we’d seen Sara involve them), it seemed impossible to keep it quiet any longer. I was anticipating a scenario where August technically got away with it, but his precious reputation was ruined. And the public was repelled at the idea of making August Wilhelm’s backup. That seemed to be what Lisa was building towards throughout S2. She built up those expectations with every strand of plot laid out in S2.
And then S3 opened with a civil settlement, an NDA, and the police no longer interested. Meaning August had gotten away with it for a third time, even after all the building blocks from S2 that he had finally run out of ways to evade justice. And then it never got mentioned again. Neither was Arnas mentioned, which August presumably had to sell to pay off Simon and Wilhelm.
It all just went away in the first five minutes. All that buildup from S2, wasted. So that is why I disliked the settlement story. Because Lisa spent all of S2 telling one story, then suddenly changed her mind after she’d already laid out all the ground work, reversed, and decided to tell a completely different, much less interesting story.
61 notes · View notes
sabcandoit · 1 year ago
Note
as you wish was an AMAZING fic!! ! i applaud to you :] for requests, i wass hoping you'd accept one where reader wears a pretty dress for Noir?? it can be either smut or fluff honestly!! or a little bit of both.
hope you have a lovely day!!
Thank you! Here it is!
DESIRE
Tumblr media
Spiderman Noir x Fem reader
Summary: The reader "puts on a pretty dress" and they go to a party for a friend of Peter's. As the night progresses, Peter finds himself unable to keep calm around you, overcome with lust, and overall he's just really entranced by your looks <3
Warnings: Fluff! No actual smut this time, but they get close haha. Its a good mix of both of you "taking control" here and there.
A/N: Thanks for all the love on my first fic, "As You Wish"! I love making these and it's great to see so much support! Also I cant help but imagine Gregory Peck as Noir lmao. He's so handsome too. My requests are open too, so don't be shy! Enjoy!
 “It's time to leave now darling!” Peter announced from the living room. You were in the bathroom, still trying on earrings and other jewelry.  You had no need to get so dressed up to show stop Peter with your looks, it didn't take much effort. He never stopped calling you “Beautiful” or “Lovely” even when you were in the laziest outfit and hadn't put any makeup on or done your hair. Now here you were, stalled in your mirror trying to look as perfect as can be simply for the fun of it. You were going out anyway, to a birthday ball of sorts, and would have others looking at you.  
You sported a dark red evening gown with straps and a mid-length v-neck cut, just long enough to show a small amount of cleavage. The back was zippered up and it cinched in perfectly at your waist. The fabric ran smoothly down from there, the skirt long and flowy. You had done your makeup with a fine red lip and a fancy updo, swept up and braided. The shorter pieces of hair that fell out were styled in a wavy, brushed-back look and pinned up. Simple gold earrings and a thin chain gold necklace adorned your body as well as equally delicate gold bracelets. Peter got you this set which surprised you. It was expensive and dainty, not the sort of thing he would especially pick out for you, but it stood out to him as something that would look beautiful on you. You were all ready, you just needed to grab your heels, handbag, and coat.
 As you exited the room, you saw Peter, dressed in a black suit and a black bowtie. His hair was slicked back, bits of it undone and curled on his forehead. He was putting on his black trench coat in the foyer when he saw you. His lips parted for a moment as his gaze settled. “Oh…” he said with a sort of delighted inflection. You smiled, looking down as you grabbed your shoes and put them on clumsily, chuckling softly. He smiled at you too, watching. As you returned, you grabbed your red handbag and a long black trench coat that matched Peter's. “Ready to go Spiderboy?” you giggled as his loving stare never dissipated. “Oh yes.” he snapped out of it. He was flustered and you were proud of it, yet you had to act oblivious. He fixed his black gloves on, stretching his long fingers out. 
“You look beautiful.” he stepped close to you, putting a hand on your back. “Thank you,” you responded as you both walked out of the doorway, grabbing his hat before leaving. You just grinned up at him lovingly. A gentle hand led you both to the car. He opened the passenger door and stepped back, outstretching a hand, “Sit love”. You nodded your head as you stepped in. He closed the door and walked over to his side and sat down, starting the old black Ford. As he drove to the party, you both listened to the quiet radio playing through the dark night. You could cut the tension with a knife, it was so thick even though the silence between you too was welcomed and comfortable. You both stole little glances and would smile when you caught each other. 
Peter finally was the one to speak up, “Have I commented on your dress yet?” he chuckled handsomely. “It’s irresistible on you, doll.” One of his gloved hands reached out and grasped gently on your thigh. You blushed as he caressed it more, saying in a lower voice, “I may not be able to control myself.” You only blushed more. “Peter…” you sighed. “Not now, love” you spoke again. His hand didn't leave your thigh but he did shut up, tensing his other hand on the wheel. 
You both now arrived at the party. Peter stepped out of the parked car and approached your door. As he opened it and you stepped out, you smiled at him. He straightened up, slightly flushed as he put his hand on your lower back again. He couldn't help but stare down at you, your body, and the dress. The jewelry! How could he not have noticed? “I see you're wearing the gold I got you,” he whispered enticingly in your ear as you both walked into the extravagant building, red carpet to greet them and all. “Oh yes, you finally noticed!” you teased, wrapping your arm around his, lightly touching his side in the process, making him gasp. Looking down at you, he saw your eyes looking intently back at him. “Handsome,” you mumbled, looking back down as you walked. He looked in front of himself, trying to keep his composure, your compliment almost melting him right there. As the escorts opened the building doors, the party was huge and bright. People were all over drinking and talking. Of course, you were here for one of Peter’s friends. You walked more in and eventually saw some people you recognized. As you dragged Peter to talk with others, he stayed suspiciously quiet. Maybe something was wrong? Was he not feeling well?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NOIR’S POV:
That dress. Her in it. She’s too gorgeous for her own good. These men around us, are they all looking at her? If only they knew the things I would do to them if they laid a hand on her or said something even slightly inappropriate.
 I could care less about the people we are talking to, I just want to be with her, alone. Give her all the compliments I want. Tell her all of the things I want to do to her… I can't keep up with this anymore, yet we still have to wish my friend a happy birthday. But look at her body, the dips and curves, her smile and laughter. It's enough to make a grown man crumble. And that jewelry set I gave her, it makes her look only more ravishing. How I wish I could unclasp that necklace and slip off that bracelet… kiss the places where they once were… make her blush and fluster. Ah, the things I would do for this woman.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh, well I'm not sure that's how it went!” you chuckled, conversing about memories with an old friend. “It had to be!” your friend laughed back. As you both smiled and talked more, Peter’s hand touched yours. Perhaps it was accidental? It now fully grasped yours and you could feel his intense need. Now this was not accidental. You tried to listen to your friend's stories but couldn't focus, his hand was treading down your arm and playing with your dress.
 “Darling,” he leaned down to your ear and whispered, “I'm afraid we must leave.” Your eyes widened as you looked up at him with a sort of offended look. “Peter…” you stammered, looking into his lust-filled eyes. “Peter, we can't leave yet.” “Ah, forget about that.” one of his arms was now wholly wrapped around your waist possessively as he interrupted the conversation around you. “Excuse me, but my lady and I must be going. We have somewhere to go early in the morning and you know how hard it can be when you don't have a full night’s rest.” he chuckled with his free hand in the air. 
They all bid you goodnight as Peter led the way out into the parking lot. He walked slightly in front of you, holding your hand. You stopped, saying, “Peter, that wasn't very kind to the hosts. After all, you were the one they wanted to see”. He turned around and put one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pulling you in. He kissed slowly and passionately like he had been waiting for this. As you parted, you stood, out of breath. “Well…” your hands now up in front of your chest. He smirked down at you. It took you a moment to let go of his gaze, you needed to show him how he couldn't affect you like that. As you left his hold, a hand of yours lingered on his coat lapel, you walked in front of him to the car. 
As you made it to your side, he came quickly behind, opening the door for you. “Oh doll, don't be mad at me.” he playfully begged as you sat in your seat. You just rolled your eyes with a silly smile. As he got into the car he looked over at you, more serious and amorous. You didn't dare look back at him, afraid you would disarm at his loving expression. A strand of hair loosened, coming down in front of your eyes. He of course couldn't leave it hanging in the way of your beautiful face, so he brought a hand up, stroking it behind your ear, making you turn to face him. You locked eyes, his with intent want and yours softening. “My love… absolutely gorgeous.” he smiled gently before departing his gaze and starting the car. As he focused on the road, he spoke out to you, “It was a good idea of yours to wear that dress. You look stunning.”. You blushed, loving the attention. Maybe you could take advantage of this? 
“Why thank you. You always look well put together in a suit.” you traveled a hand up to his neck, caressing for a moment before pulling on the bowtie and loosening it. A visible blush was creeping up his cheeks as he glanced over at you. As you completely freed the bowtie from his neck, you tossed it to the side, unbuttoning a few of the buttons on his white dress shirt. “Sweetheart,” he groaned. “What?” you teased, one of the straps holding your dress on your shoulders slipping down. He noticed this, causing him to inhale sharply. 
He couldn't continue driving. His self-control was not that strong. As he pulled over and parked, he turned over to you, took off his suit coat, and rolled up his sleeves, the top buttons all loosened. You blushed and backed up in your seat, the skirt part of your dress riding up and the neckline lowering showing more cleavage. He started taking off his gloves, pulling one finger off at a time as he looked over at you periodically, each time with intensified hunger. After he successfully got them off and threw them at the side he moved over in his seat, grabbing onto your face and giving you a fiery kiss. As you both moved your hands around each other’s bodies feverishly, you mumbled into a kiss, “We can't get much done in here, Peter.” giggling. “Nonsense.” he desperately gripped at your hips. “Allow me to demonstrate.” he chuckled attractively before feeling for your dress’ zipper and pulling it down, warm hands grazing along your back.
544 notes · View notes
meltedmush · 4 months ago
Note
how long does it take you to draw your sketches/doodles? also do you have any tips to draw faster? 🙇‍♀️
I generally take 30 - 60 minutes a sketch,,,, but honestly really depends on how detailed it is.
Like a Chibi will be done in 20 - 25 minutes (Counting in the extra time I spend on minute details like a perfectionist 😭)
I for some reason really like spending egregious amounts of time on random objects too??? Unless it’s the in the background, I’ll spend 40 minutes refining it.
Random characters that are fully colored and rendered with take like 80 minutes.
The comics take usually take an hour or two per page. (If I decide to cross hatch it, my entire day will be gone with 4 pages… so I’ve been trying to find shortcuts. But not without sacrificing the quality for time lol)
I don’t think there’s any trick or magic to drawing faster. It’s really about weaponizing your artistic knowledge, and finding what’s comfortable or convenient for you!
There was a period of time where I would spend 11 or 12 hours on an illustration, and it wASS UGLYYYYY. (Some of these artworks are still available on my tumblr,,, but it’s SO LONG AGO, AND IT WAS MY 1ST OR 2ND YEAR GETTING INTO DIGITAL ART)
Overtime I learned what worked best for me, and practiced till I felt more comfortable with what I was drawing. Eventually I managed to shorten the time to 4 hours or less! Ambition was my biggest enemy but at the same time my biggest motivator. (And it still is LMFAO) 😭
EDIT (bit more to my way too long tangent): ALSO??? BRO DON’T BE AFRAID TO USE YOUR MESSY SKETCH AS LINEART OR DRAW ON TOP OF IT. I’VE DONE IT FOR YEARS NOW AND IT ADDS SUCH A GOOD EXTRA BIT OF TEXTURE,, AT THIS POINT I DON’T EVEN USE LINE-ART ANY MORE UNLESS IT’S A COMMISSION,, (IT’LL ADD LIKE AN 2-4 HOURS TO MY WORK)
Tumblr media
#mushyrt#asks#that word minute bothers me so much#I look at it and want to refer to it as the time minute#this sketch took about 3 minutes when it should’ve been 1 minute#BUT I WAS SO HYPERFIXATED ON THE EYESSS#i say these pretty words#but THE REAL TIP IS HONESTLY THE LASSO TOOL#LASSO TOOL IS THE BEST#IT’S MY FAVORITE TOOL FOR MAKING BACKGROUNDS OR QUICK SHADING OR COLORING#OR ALSO THE MASK TOOL#TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THEM#THEY’RE SO GOOD#Procreate mask tool kinda sucksss#SO USE ALPHA LOCK IF YOU ARE A CONFIDENT PERSON#OR NOT AFRAID TO F**K UP#Bro I sometimes draw on 1 layer and use alpha lock and my friends look at me like I’m a menace#BUT IT!S USEFULLLL AND SO EASY#This little tangent definitely should’ve been my answer for the ‘how much do you draw’ question#but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time#AND I’M A MANIAC WHEN IT COMES TO DRAWING 😭😭#even if you rob me of a paper or pencil I WILL FIND A WAY TO DRAW#I WILL SCRATCH INTO YOUR SHIRT AND ROCKS AND MAKE AN ARTWORK OUT OF WATER OR CAT FUR#YOU WILL NOT DEPRIVE ME OF MY CREATIVE ENDEAVORS#This didn’t stick out to me until one of my friends said ‘omg ofc she’s drawing’ under her breath#like I spend every second of free time I have drawing unless I find something else interesting#The only time I’m not drawing is when I’m on the toilet or doing random everyday stuff#I forgot to talk about this but greyscale to color is insanely useful too; it teaches you different values while also being super fast#i tend to use greyscale to color when I do a BW sketch I end up liking#TL;DR - Lasso Tool + Layer Mask + Alpha Lock + Sketch as lineart
54 notes · View notes