#biggest fail I've ever seen

[cripsynapkinskin]

C.C. Babcock, ladies and gentlemen and those in-between and neither

[morningmask27]

I'm going to be bitching about Star for a while now. I'll tag them all with #asc spoilers, but really what the fuck was this book?

[deiscension]

I'm so entirely serious when I say SQX is perhaps one of the biggest failguys I've ever come across. Just, objectively a failgirl. Cannot be saved cannot save and never was safe girl. Girl who cries for help and then realizes she should've tried harder to help herself, should've never gotten help, and if you try to step forward and help now she won't let you. Not in any way that gives her a foot forward. You are a child and you try to take your brother some food and you trip and spill everything and the monster is back because you are the food, silly thing. And it shouldn't have been anyone but you, except it's already been everyone but you, and now you're alone and as it turns out you were the hungry monster that ate up everyone when all you wanted to do was care. And it really shouldn't be about you anymore, let it be about someone else deserving of the pity for once, yet somehow it's always about you. And of course you're scared and hurt but that's already more than you deserve to have. You love and you give and you defend and you are so deeply wrong for believing you have the right to do so freely. You pass tests with flying colors after the timer has long since gone off. It was never your place at the table so why did you eat from it, why did you feed others from it? You can hope and try and try with all you are (which is, admittedly, laughably little even if that laughably little is the richest you have ever been). But no matter what reality you inhabit you're not built to last because it never should've been you. Somehow you manage to miss the point of being fragile, of being undeserving, because still you persist and can't make yourself give up, either. #Failgirl.

[feroluce]

incredibly sexy of you to be blankshipping on main and in the tags <3 and with incredible takes and ideas on top of that!

Thank you Anon, it's so hard having the biggest dick in the room, but someone has to do it 😔

As a slightly? more serious answer, I think it's good and even important to have people being loud and proud and totally self-accepting on main in the proship circles. Like there needs to be someone showing the people who got bought in on the anti stances and are then beating themselves up for totally normal things that it's ok. You aren't a bad person just for liking something problematic about a play-pretend character in a make-believe scenario and you don't need to sink into self-loathing over such a thing.

Because some of them are in actual agony over this stuff, and some of them have already accepted this about themselves but are too deep in the anti circles now, so they'd lose their entire support system if they were outed. Not to mention how creepily violent and invasive antis get about proshippers- and as someone in actual anti spaces, you'd have a front row seat to all the atrocities people would wish on you, or maybe even go so far as to commit them themselves.

Like you know how people talk about extremely strict religious parents? How they would try to control a lot of the thoughts and actions in their child's life? And then sometimes even get violent when they didn't comply? All while excusing it as trying to keep them from sinning or being a bad person? It's the exact same thing. And it has a lot of the same effects, too. Antis aren't beating the problematic out of each other. They're just plain beating and traumatizing each other and then making each other into better liars who secretly hang out on the proship servers on the downlow.

And it sucks! It sucks so bad! Because I've talked to people in those exact situations and like. Especially the fact that a lot of them are still young. Like barely young adults. Some of them are still technically teenagers. They shouldn't be dealing with this bullshit at what's already such a tender and difficult age. And it makes my heart ache and my blood boil because some of them are outright scared and there's just not a lot that I can do about it. You can't shield or protect someone from all of that and it sucks.

So like yeah I'm gonna be noisy and annoying and yowl right on main because at least with that I can give people somewhere to go where they feel decently safe and accepted, even if they never interact once. That's what got us the blankshipping server, because our creator was in the anti servers while sending me blankshipping asks and decided "you know what this sucks actually" lol. That's what brought in a lot of our members, because I could yell my heart out into the void here and! People heard! And then they joined the server and found a place they could finally breathe! And it's so much fun in there now!! ♡

Anyway tl;dr thank you dear lovely Anon you are entirely correct I am incredibly sexy and everyone desires me carnally and my dick is huge and I haunt the submas servers with how I live in their minds rent free skzjkdksjd

[slayerchick303]

OH. NO. Even if you're trying to be generous and say the profile's age was just a typo (which is impossible unless they are a teen in the photo, and they do not appear to be one), the reply is just so bad.

Not only does this make me feel incredibly old, but I'm so saddened by the reply. The education system really failed this child. Do modern history classes really not cover 9/11 well? Can a young person tell me what your history classes were like?

[bertoyana]

i'm so sorry i don't want to be the "the party ended 5 years ago and he's still here" person but dark phoenix's final scene is still SO funny to me. especially to see how erik plays charles like a fiddle

like: he shows up with NO helmet AND a chess set. (he did this last time in days of the future past, and it worked, right? so it should work again, right? right???)

so, he sits, completely uninvited mind you, and he tries (and fails terribly bless his heart) at starting a normal conversation, he asks charles about his retirement, probably trying to get charles to like, talk about it or whatever

(rip erik's hairline)

charles is not having any of it, which... valid. the last time he and erik had a full conversation, erik told him to shut the fuck up 

anyways, erik realizes his failed attempt at being casual did NOT work like he wanted, so he pulls out plan b - he calls charles his old friend (which, if you pay attention, in the prequels they use 'old friend' as a term to de-escalate the situation)

which WORKS, for some reason, and charles immediately deflates and gives erik the tiniest smile in existence, because erik showing he cares always seems to do it for charles lmao

(he's so embarrassing . god bless. @ x men: is this your leader)

anyhow, erik pulls out the second part of his plan b - he asks charles if he wants to play a game. still playing casual. just two buddies. just two guys. some guys. just some friends having a toootal normal n casual conversation.

and you can immediately see charles close himself up, he crosses his arms and avoids looking erik in the eye. erik managed to soften him up with the 'old friend' and having his helmet off, but it's not enough YET so erik pulls out his plan c. luckily his last one, christ, charles really does like to keep them waiting doesn't he

keep an eye on erik's entire demeanor in this scene, his position is not closed off like charles', he's open, he leans on the table, and maintains eye contact with charles. his head is tilted to one side and everything, completely harmless

i'm so obsessed with charles' microexpressions here james mcavoy you are so insane

anwyays, charles uncrosses his arms and his position does come off a little more open, but if you watch the scene you can see him shake his head. this obviously touches him - but he's probably intending to say still no. probably because he has the biggest martyr complex i've ever seen in a fictional character 

so, erik pulls up his fucking plan d (lol) and hopefully this time IT WILL be the last. he pulls the pawn out of his jacket pocket.

(why the fuck is this played like a fucking romantic scene i'm so serious, why is he smiling to himself like that)

mind you, erik had the pawn in his pocket the entire time, which could mean either of two things:

charles looks surprised/confused the entire scene, but in THIS part he doesn't look confused, he just looks like he's still trying to figure out what erik is trying to do. so it either means erik makes charles play this 'guess where it's hiding' game all the time (????) which doesn't really sound likely for him to do, but erik is always begging charles to get into his head so it wouldn't surprise me if he actually did this every time. god knows he's desperate enough or

erik was expecting charles to reject his offer right away, and had multiple other plans shoved up his ass if this was the case. this also seems likely, he's obsessive enough to have thought multiple ways through. 

anyways, he puts his two fists up and pulls up the most mortal sentence in existence. one he knows charles won't be able to deny him

"just ONE game 🥺 for old time's sake???? 🥺🥺🥺" man stfu you are 62 years old GET UPPPP 

anyways - pay attention to his wording. 

"just one game" because erik came ALLLL this way for charles, so charles might as well play ONE game with him, and then erik could be gone - if charles wanted it that way. 

"for old's time sake" when things were easier and when they were more at peace - when they were on each other's side. when they were together and the mansion, just after charles had saved him and gave him a hom- oh wait 

(also, there's 100% a hidden meaning here. and there’s also a 100% chance i’m reaching but idc. the pawn could be in his left hand or his right. the possibility is 50/50. the only way charles could know with 100% certainty was if he entered erik's mind - if he took up erik's offer. but he could also not get into erik's mind and just... guess and fail - by thus, not taking erik's offer. erik is giving him an out, a choice to make the first move)

(and the chess piece he offers charles a WHITE pawn. the white pieces are the first ones to move. 

also also if you have paid attention to the previous movies, erik is always the one to use the white pieces, this is the first movie where we see charles play with white)

anyways, charles does struggle a bit with the choice, but ultimately he decides to accept erik's proposal and """guesses""" right.  

and going from erik's... entire face and smirk lmao i'm guessing charles went into his head to get it right. mind you, this is like sex for them

charles accepts - erik is very relieved to know he's not the only one who's down horrendously. and after the worst guessing game in history (seriously, the pawn was in erik's right pocket and then he had it hidden in his right hand... man i guessed that shit and i'm not even a telepath) they start rearranging the board

so anyway, erik gives charles this look like he wants to climb him like a tree, which means that playing edward 'down embarrassingly bad' rochester in jane eyre (2011) finally fucking paid off

erik doesn't even blink mind you, and charles doesn't take his eyes off erik either way, which means they are just STARING at each other without blinking for god knows how long LMAOOO 😭😭😭

once everything is said and done, erik makes a silly little joke and charles rebuts. then erik gives him the biggest smile i've ever seen him give to someone since magda, and then he follows it up with a smaller, softer smile with no teeth

seeing this for the first time in the theater was like getting shot in the chest, no joke

mind you erik stopped trying like three minutes ago but for some reason, the first time we finally see charles soften up in the ENTIRE movie is after he sees erik smiling at him. which could mean nothing.

and the thing is: charles does have a big heart, and he means well, most of the time, but he also doesn’t necessarily has… the best way of showing it with his actions lol. erik knows this, and he knows charles has a thing for lost causes, for people the society has given up on. charles threw himself into the freezing water to save erik - even when he didn't KNOW him. 

AND he also knows charles has the biggest soft spot for him, he KNOWS - because all those years ago, charles' biggest accussation wasn't "you paralyzed me" it was "you left me". because after erik lost his wife and daughter, charles rushed to find him, to make sure he was okay. because nine years ago, charles looked at apocalypse and said "fuck you you are twisting erik's grief, and you are hurting him" to A GOD BTW. TO HIS FUCKING FACE NO FUCKS GIVEN AT ALL

tldr: call erik the fucking violinist because boy he sure knows how to play charles like a fucking instrument and how to press all the right keys to get him to say yes to him. he gave charles an out if he didn't want to come with him, but he also came PREPARED for it, mind you, he came PREPARED to take charles with him to genosha. he didn't get to take charles with him 30 years ago, and he was going to be dammed if he didn't take charles with him NOW (this time with no bullet wound and no helmet lol)

and the most insane thing to me is, that he knows charles has a soft spot for him, he's known this for 30 years, and yet, the only time he uses it in his favor is to get charles to say yes to him on this. the only time he uses it is when he thinks he can do something to help charles - to give him back all the kindness charles gave to him 30 years ago. 

anways i'm insane. i'll be back here eating glass if you need me. i'm so normal about them. simon kinberg broke something in me 5 years ago

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Send me a number (or several numbers) and I will happily answer! Or ask me something not on this list! I've always seen people do these question games and have always wanted to do one myself so I put together these questions from several similar lists circulating around on Tumblr!

Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life?  If so, what are they?

Are piercings sexy?

Are tattoos sexy?

Are there any sex toys you want to try?

Are you more of a dominant, submissive, or switch?

Are you rough or romantic?

Are you the jealous type?

Are you vocal during sex?

Do you have a gag reflex?

Do you kiss on the first date?

Do you like being blindfolded?

Do you like dirty talk?

Do you like hair-pulling?

Do you like it rough or romantic?

Do you like it when your sexual partner moans?

Do you like name-calling in bed?

Do you like seeing the evidence (bruises, bite marks, hickies)?

Do you like teasing or being teased?

Do you like to cuddle?

Do you like to swallow?

Do you like watching or being watched?

Do you prefer having foreplay or getting right to it?

Do you prefer long hair or short hair?

Do you prefer to give or receive when it comes to sex?

Do you watch porn?

Have you ever cried during sex?

Have you ever faked an orgasm?

Have you ever had a one-night stand?

Have you ever had sex in a public place?

Have you ever had sex in the shower?

Have you ever had to use your safe word?

Have you ever spanked or been spanked in the bedroom?

Have you ever squirted before?

Have you/would you have a threesome?

Have you/would you participate in an orgy?

Have/would you ever have sex outside?

How do you feel about public displays of affection?

How many people have you had sex with?

Is it good sex even if you don’t cum?

Tongue or no tongue while kissing?

What are your BDSM test results?

What are your thoughts on friends with benefits?

What do you like and dislike about oral sex?

What do you think about toys in the bedroom?

What do you wear to bed?

What is an overrated sex position?

What is an underrated sex position?

What is one thing you really like during sex that you wish happened more often?

What is something that never fails to make you horny?

What is the best sexual ego boost you’ve received?

What is the first thing that draws your attention when you meet someone new?

What is your biggest turn-off?

What is your favorite color to wear?

What is your favorite kind of foreplay?

What is your favorite kink and why?

What is your favorite part of your body?

What is your favorite pet name?

What is your favorite position in the bedroom?

What is your favorite type of non-sexual contact?

What is your newest kink?

What is your safe word?

What is your top sexual fantasy?

Which part of your body do you consider the most sexy?

Would you have sex on the first date?

Would you rather be handcuffed or blindfolded?

Would you rather make out or cuddle?

[storiesforallfandoms]

i'd find you in any life ~ eric; a quiet place day one

word count: 3614

request?: no

description: in which two idiots in love find their way back to each other after the end of the world

pairing: eric x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, spoilers for aqpdo, mentions of death, mentions of the quiet place aliens, end of the world type beat

masterlist (one, two, three)

Day One

The little bell over the door chimed to signal the first customer she'd seen in nearly an hour. She stifled an eye roll and bookmarked her novel, only to find it was her favorite customer.

"Hey Eric!"

Eric smiled at her. She was glad to be leaning against the counter because his smile never failed to make her weak in the knees.

"Working hard, or hardly working?" Eric asked, mirroring her leaning position across from her.

"Oh, very clearly working hard," she responded, gesturing to her book. "I'm almost finished my book."

"Very hard work indeed."

(Y/N) chuckled. "Want your usual?"

"Of course. And one of those delicious looking chocolate chip muffins."

(Y/N) playfully salted and went to make Eric's usual coffee order.

Eric had been coming to the coffee shop (Y/N) worked at for months now. He had came in first one morning before one of his classes, in a rush and asking her to make him anything with caffeine as quickly as she could. She quickly made him a coffee and he threw a $20 bill at her, telling her to keep the change. He came back the next day to thank her, and to tell her it was the best coffee he ever had. She made him another and insisted it was on the house.

It was the start of Eric being a regular customer, as well as being the start of his and (Y/N)'s friendship.

Eric watched her work to make his coffee. "You know, one of these days I'll figure out what you do to make such good coffee."

She smiled at him over her shoulder. "It's just coffee! I don't even do anything special with it."

"But it's the best coffee I've had! I can't even make coffee this good."

"I make it with love."

She quickly turned away to pretend she was making his coffee. Really, she was trying to hide the look of embarrassment on her face. The second the words had left her mouth, she regretted it.

Of course (Y/N) had a crush on Eric. You'd be crazy not to. On a surface level, he was extremely handsome. He had the biggest, brownest eyes she had ever seen, the prettiest face, and a smile that made her feel like she was flying. Not to mention that British accent of his, which was way too easy to fall for. And then she got to know him and she found herself falling even deeper in love with his personality. He was the sweetest person she had ever met. She'd be crazy not to develop feelings for him.

The question then, she knew, was why did she never tell Eric how she felt about him?

As kind as Eric was, and as much as she considered him a friend, she knew they weren't meant to be together. Eric was in New York to go to law school. He was going to be a big lawyer, make lots of money and be successful. (Y/N), on the other hand, was in her 20s working in a coffee shop, with no prospects for the future. She didn't know what she wanted in life, but she knew Eric likely wouldn't be a part of it. It was best for him, even if it hurt her.

She poured his coffee into a take away cup and bagged the muffin he asked for. She could barely look at him as she rang in his order. He was looking at her with those big, brown eyes. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to form a coherent sentence if she did.

"Are you on your way to class?" she asked as she took his payment.

"Not for another hour and a half," he replied. "Had to come down to get my coffee first, and was hoping you weren't too busy so I could hang out for a bit."

(Y/N) couldn't fight the smile on her face. "I guess I won't kick you out for loitering."

"As long as I don't get you in trouble."

She scoffed. "Please, you're a paying customer. There's nothing my manager can get upset about. Not that he ever shows up anyways."

Eric paid for his order, and as (Y/N) was getting his change he pulled another $20 bill from his wallet and put it into the tip jar next to the register. (Y/N)'s eyes widened. She grabbed the bill and tried to give it back to Eric.

"That's your tip," he said.

"It's too much, Eric! Just give me your change!"

He shook his head. "You deserve it. I told you, you make the best coffee I've ever had. Not to mention the coffee comes with a side of friendship with a wonderful person."

She tried not to let her smile falter at the word "friends". She knew that's all they were. It was her choice to keep her secrets a secret.

Eric hung around long enough to eat his muffin and drink about half of his coffee. It wasn't until another customer finally came in that they both realized the time and he had to go. (Y/N) said goodbye and Eric promised to come back again the next day. She smiled at him before turning her attention back to her new customer.

Soon, the shop was empty again and (Y/N) found herself missing Eric's presence. Despite being friends, they had yet to exchange phone numbers. Eric had found (Y/N) on social media and asked her if it was okay for him to follow and message her, which of course she said yes. They had messaged back and forth on there, but there was something more intimate about asking for his phone number. Maybe she was just overthinking that. They were already friends, they already spoke outside of when he came to the shop. What harm was there in asking for his number to text whenever they wanted to, and not just when they had internet?

That's it, she thought. I'll do it tomorrow.

(Y/N) was content with her decision, smiling to herself as she was cleaning the coffee machine, when she heard a commotion outside. Through the shop window she could see a crowd forming. She stepped up to the window to see everyone looking at the sky. She followed their gazes to see streaks of light falling from the sky. She thought it was a meteor shower at first, but there was something about it that made her feel off. Like it wasn't just a few space rocks passing over Earth.

She noticed one beam of light was coming closer. Not exactly at her specifically, but close enough for it to be concerning. The crowd in front of the shop suddenly started to move, some of them in a panicked manner. (Y/N) backed away from the window, planning to take cover however she could, but she was too late. There was the sound of an impact a few streets over, followed by rumbling of an aftershock that eventually reached the shop. The last thing (Y/N) remembered was the shop windows exploding and her being thrown back, hitting her head on a nearby table and knocking her out.

~~~~~~

Day 89

"There's a boat coming!"

Eric didn't usually care much to see who was arriving at the island. He was always glad to know that other people had heard and figured out Henri's code to get to safety, but he knew that whoever was coming was not someone for him. He had lost everyone during those first few days - his parents (not that it was ever confirmed, but he knew the likeliness was slim and he'd never get a real confirmation he was sure), Sam.

(Y/N).

There was no reason for him to go watch as new survivors were welcomed to the island, like so many of the others did.

But that day, he was sat outside in the sun eating with Frodo when the call came. Frodo's ears had perked up and, before Eric could stop him, the black and white feline had taken off towards the beach. Eric swore under his breath and got up to follow.

"Even the damn cat is a noisy bugger," Eric muttered to himself.

There was already a small crowd huddled to watch as the small boat coasted onto the island. Henri and a few others were already there, pulling the boat to shore and helping the small handful of survivors off. He was speaking to the first person who had gotten off, a man who shared the same expression that everyone did when they first got there - terror. The confusion and fear of Henri speaking always got to them first, and often times people wouldn't believe Henri when he said that the aliens couldn't reach them because they couldn't survive the water.

Eric was looking for Frodo more than he was paying attention to whoever was getting off the boat. The cat was moving around the people in his way so smoothly, meanwhile Eric had to bump and push his way past everyone, mumbling an apology as he went.

Frodo suddenly ran towards the boat as another person got off. Eric broke through the crowd and chased after Frodo, an apology already on the tip of his tongue for whoever Frodo had ran up to. But the words died before they could come out as he watched the person scoops Frodo up in her arms and look for whoever owned him, her eyes locking on Eric immediately.

"Eric?"

"(Y/N)?"

He was moving before he realized it, his arms around (Y/N) to pull her into a hug. Tears were forming in his eyes as he held her, making sure that she was actually real and not a figment of his imagination.

Frodo grumbled, breaking them apart. He jumped down from (Y/N)'s arms and sat looking between them.

"Is he yours?" she asked.

"Technically yes. He belonged to someone else before, but..." He stopped, the familiar ache in his chest from whenever he thought about Sam. "But he's mine, now."

(Y/N) nodded. She seemed to understand. They had all gone through the same hell, all lost someone. It was hard not to understand.

"Bring her up," Henri said, suddenly appearing next to the two of them. That's when Eric realized that everyone was making their way back to the community. "Unless you both want to keep standing here all day."

Eric shook his head. "No, sorry. (Y/N), come with me."

(Y/N) was shocked upon seeing the community of houses and people, as most survivors are. They were so used to the wreckage that the aliens caused, and all the fear that drove so many into silence, that seeing all these well built houses, and seeing people talking and living without fear, was foreign.

"When was the last time you ate anything?" Eric asked (Y/N). "Or showered? Or had water?"

"A long time," (Y/N) responded to all three questions.

Eric nodded. "I have my own place. Frodo and I were just having lunch, and there's plenty to share. I have a working shower, drinkable water."

"That all sounds perfect," she said. "Lead the way."

Eric showed her to his place. He gave her towels and told her he'd find her clean clothes from one of the other ladies in town. He tried not to linger as she stepped into the bathroom and let the shower run. She'd think he was crazy if she caught him there, debating on going into the shower with her, but it was the only thing on his mind in this moment. Well, besides the desire to kiss her senseless and never let her go again.

Eric had mourned (Y/N). Even before he met Sam and had to mourn her as well, he mourned the coffee shop girl who had became such a good friend to him; who he had loved and never told. When the invasion first started, Eric's first thought wasn't his own survival, but about if (Y/N) had gotten to safety. He had left her in the coffee shop just moments prior, and someone had been with her then, but did that person stay? Did more people come? Was there anyone there to protect her, to get her out? Had she figured out too late that the aliens were attracted to sound?

When he got on the boat to come to the island, he looked at every other survivor that was there with him. He asked around if anyone knew (Y/N), if they knew whether she was there. When they got to the island, he looked at the others who had gotten there first. She was nowhere to be seen, and no one knew of her. He had to come to terms with the fact that she was probably dead, and that made him wish he was, too.

He regretted never telling (Y/N) how he felt. He thought he had lost his chance forever, and that thought haunted him every day. He could hardly believe that she was actually here, that she had survived.

One of his neighbors was gracious enough to give him clothes for (Y/N). He left them outside the bathroom door for her, then went back outside to continue eating. He had gotten the extra food he had planned to put away as leftovers and brought it out for (Y/N) to eat, as well as gotten her a glass of water. Frodo had taken his position hunched over a can of cat food again, eating away as if he were the one who was starved.

(Y/N) came out a few minutes later, her wet hair clinging to her and looking more refreshed. She still looked exhausted, but he knew how long it would take to really get any rest after what she had experienced.

She sat down next to him and picked up the food he had waiting for her.

"Thank you," she said.

"Of course," he responded. "You served me for quite some time. I think it's only fair I finally repay the favor."

She smiled, and he was brought back to every time he visited her coffee shop and was able to make her smile at something he said. It had always been such an accomplishment to him.

They ate in silence for some time. (Y/N) tried to savor the food, but she was so hungry that she couldn't help but scarf so much of it down so quickly. Eric couldn't help but watch her. He was still terrified that she'd suddenly disappear and he'd realize this was all just a dream.

"I can't believe you're here," he said before he could stop himself.

(Y/N) looked up at him. "I can't believe you're here. I thought..."

"Me too."

She moved her plate aside and turned her body so that she was facing him. "What happened that day?"

"I was in the tube - the subway - and suddenly there was all this shaking and rumbling. A pipe or something burst eventually and suddenly the whole place was flooded. I was sure I was a goner, until I managed to get to a stairwell that led up into New York. That's where I first met this guy - " Eric reached over to pat Frodo. " - and I followed him to his owner. She...she's the reason I'm here."

"Did she...?"

Eric swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "She was sick. She told me she made peace with her mortality and was okay with the sacrifice so that Frodo and I could survive."

(Y/N) reached out to place her hand on Eric's. He moved it so that their fingers intertwined. If this had been months ago, he would've been more focused on the fact that he was finally holding (Y/N)'s hand.

"She sounds like a good person," (Y/N) said. "I wish I could've met her."

"Me too," Eric said. "What about you? What happened to you that day?"

"Well, I was at the coffee shop, as you know, and suddenly these...things...I guess the eggs? I don't know, but I watched them fall from the sky. One of them landed a few streets over from the shop and the aftershocks blew the windows out and knocked me out. When I came to, I had been rescued by Stephen, he's the one who got off the boat first. He found anyone who was still alive and brought us to this building to hide us away. He told us to keep quiet, that it was the only way for us to survive. He kept going out and searching for other survivors, or for any resources to keep us alive."

"He didn't take you to the boats?"

She shook her head. "He tried, but there was an attack when we were all trying to get there. We kind of dispersed and all ended up back in the same building. A lot of us didn't make it, and by the time we tried to get out again the boats were gone. We had no idea where they were going, or how to get there since every boat had been taken from the dock it seemed. We settled in to try and fend for ourselves, which we did until we happened to hear a song looping over the radio."

"Beyond the Sea," Eric said. "It was Henri's idea. It was a code to get more survivors to come to safety."

"It worked. It just took some time for us to follow it."

"But you're here now." Eric squeezed her hand. "God, I'm so glad you're here. I thought...I spent every day thinking about you."

"I thought about you a lot, too." There were tears in her eyes now, too. "When I woke up, the first thing I thought was worrying where you were. I wanted so badly for you to have been someone that Stephen saved, and then so much time passed and I thought..."

Eric nodded. "Me too. I really thought you were gone."

It may not have been the most tactful way to do it, but emotions were running high and Eric's brain wasn't particularly working right. He took hold of her face and pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers. It wasn't the best kiss in the world, he would admit. Because he caught (Y/N) off guard, it was more teeth than lips, and he could taste the saltiness of their mixed tears on her lips.

When she pulled away almost immediately, Eric felt embarrassment wash over him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that without asking first."

To his surprise, (Y/N) moved their plates out of their way before climbing onto Eric's lap. She leaned in slower, giving him more time to register that they were going to kiss again. When her lips touched his this time, it was soft and gentle, but still needy. Like they were both making up for so much lost time, which, he guessed, they were.

They were only interrupted this time by someone yelling, "Hey! There's kids out here! Get a room!"

(Y/N) pulled away, giggling a little as she rested her forehead against Eric's.

"So, it was okay that I kissed you?" he asked.

"I would think me kissing you back was enough of an answer," she said. "But yes, it was very much okay."

"I've wanted to do that since the day after we met."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "The day after?"

"Well yeah. The day we met I was in such a hurry that I didn't have time to really register the fact that a beautiful woman was making me coffee."

"See, that's so funny, because I also wanted to kiss you the day we met, and every day after when you came in for coffee."

"Wait, really?" Her smile was shyer now as she nodded her head. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Well, you were going to school to be a lawyer and you had everything going for you. I was just the girl in a coffee shop who didn't know what she was doing with her life. I thought...I thought it would be better for you if we didn't date, so that you could find someone with the same ambitions as you."

"I'm not saying this now because the world as ended, but fuck me being a lawyer. I didn't care if you were working at a coffee shop, or going to school like I was, or if you were just some homeless person on the side of the road. I loved you for who you were. I still love you for who you are."

(Y/N) was speechless. It was the words she had been longing to hear for so long, even after the world went to shit. She was convinced she was dreaming, or having some sort of alien induced hallucination. She made a mental note to pinch herself later, because if this was a dream she didn't want to wake up any time soon.

"I love you, too."

They went to kiss again, but Frodo meowed and nudged Eric's leg. He chuckled as he reached down to pet the cat. "I guess we shouldn't just be making out in broad daylight after already being yelled at once."

"I suppose not," (Y/N) said. "You know, I am awfully tired still. You should take me in to see your bed."

Eric grinned at her. "I like the way you think."

[heartfullofleeches]

Childhood best friend Darling and Bugman always seems like such a silly concept to me cause stuff like this can happen-

Darling drunkenly calling Bugman sobbing and rambling about how during their night out they saw a bug crawling on their arm and killed it in a panic only to realize what they’d done and feel horrible about it so now they’re begging Bugman for forgiveness and to not hate them forever

Darling taking the time out of their night to apologize and legitimately feel remorse, even if they are under the influence, is exactly why Bugman forgives them and falls a little deeper in the love with them everytime. Childhood Bestie Darling was terrified and I mean terrified of bugs as a kid - While they're frightened, Darling is aware and respects how important insects are to Bug. They won't be the first to touch one, but they also aren't the type of person to kill on sight and for Bugman that speaks volumes.

-

"So I was cleaning out my closet the other day and the biggest spider I've ever seen crawled out some boxes. I'm telling you it was huge!"

"Gross! Did you kill it?"

"What else was I supposed to do? Just let it walk all around my house until it decided to bite me?"

They aren't mad. It's typical for people to fear what they don't understand. That poor creature was probably more terrified than that human - finding a safe home just for it to be ripped from you in the most ruthless way. Bugman wasn't the type to shed a tear over someone they've never met, yet a prickly sensation prods at the corners of their eyes.

Such a tragedy....

-

"Bug?...."

A call? At this hour? Something must be wrong.. As Bugman wiggles their other arm free of their sleep bag, your voice picks up over the phone again.

"It was an accident, I swear... I felt something on my arm and I just - reacted. I, uh, put the body in a napkin. We can have a funeral for it or you can add it to your collection. I can't really tell what it is, but I'm sure you know. You know everything about bugs.."

Is this... Are you calling them because you killed a bug? Any resemblance of sleep clinging to Bug was thoroughly shaken off by the tiny catch in your voice. Are you crying as well? Over a bug?

"I'll be there shortly. Please refrain from shedding tears over something so small."

"But you care about them, Bug!- And I care about you!"

"You ..do?" In all your years together, the notion that you truly care about them and their interests never fails to leave them speechless. You despise bugs. Exposure therapy in controlled environments with their pets has help some, but you still tense up when you see one. You hate bugs, but you love Bug.

"Is it alright if I stay the night when I come by?"

A small chuckle cut through your tiny sniffles. "Why wouldn't it be, Bug?"

Bugman has never put in their shoes and been out the front door quicker.

[lyneylover]

Yandere! Lyney royalty Au♡

Synopsis: lyney is a street magician that you seen 3 weeks before your birthday. After your dad sees you mesmerized by his magic show he decides to buy lyney and his siblings to be your personal magicians. Little did your dad know that this would be the biggest mistake he ever made.

Word count: 569

So picture this!

Originally lyney was just a street performer with his twin sister and sometimes his little brother as well.

But that all changed as soon as you came to one of his magic shows.

You were amazed by his tricks and enjoyed watching them. Genuinely having a good time watching his show.

It wasn't everyday that the princess of the l/n family actually seemed extremely impressed by magicians. Many have tried but failed since you were always able to tell what illusion they used.

But there was something about lyney and his sister lynette's magic that made you hypnotized.

By the time the show was officially over you seemed disappointed.

Noticing your disappointment your dad has the brilliant idea to buy the 3 magicians for your upcoming birthday as a surprise.

After that magic show everything seemed so boring but 3 weeks later you got the biggest surprise of your life.

The day of your 18th birthday arrived.

Like any other birthday you had there were lots of gifts.

But something was different this time. This time your dad presented you with something you'd never expect.

There stood the three magicians.

Standing right in front of you was lyney, lynette, and freminet.

In that moment you were frozen and bubbling with excitement. You quickly ran over to your dad hugging him and thanking.

But little did you know that lyney was smitten by you.

The second he saw you at his magic show he felt you stole his heart away. The twinkle in your eyes when he made something disappear and reappear or how he drew the exact same card that a person showed the crowd.

Usually lyney wouldn't let anyone buy him and his siblings so when your dad asked him he was going to say no but then realized that the same man he was going to decline was your father.

Lyney uses this as a way to get closer to you knowing that he's only a mere magician and you're a princess. So he automatically yes not wanting to leave his siblings he told the king that he would only go if he bought all three of them for $100 a piece.

When lyney saw you he felt giddy inside. He was mesmerized by your beautiful features your pretty eyes, your soft looking hair, your plump lips everything about you made him blush.

This didn't go unnoticed by Lynette and freminet though.

After a month of being your personal magician he finally tells his siblings about his feelings for you hoping that they would help him with the master plan he thought up.

When Lynette and freminet finally agree lyney is ecstatic.

A week later they put Lyney's plan in motion.

At dinner lynette slips something in everyone's drink that'll make them tired.

When everyone is finally asleep lyney sneaks into your room covering your mouth before waiting for freminet to appear.

When freminet gets there they all quietly bring you to the escape carriage they had prepared earlier.

They all quickly run back inside to trash your room and their rooms to make it look like a kidnapping. With the money they had gotten from the king they took you far across fontaine where he would never find you.

The next day the king was furious. He thought someone kidnapped his magicians and his precious only daughter.

The king looked for them for months but not a trace of them was ever found.

Lyney could finally be with the love of his life.

I hope you guys enjoyed this! Sorry I haven't been posting I've had writers block but I'm finally back on track! And I'm currently completing my first hotaru haganezuka request but I thought I would post my little brainrot for you guys<3 Also should i post a part two with yan! personal detective Heizou looking for reader?

[harukamitsuki]

(spoilers ahead)

honestly, i think one of my biggest issues with my hero is how horikoshi is really good at setting things up, but fails in the execution of basically anything and everything. especially when everyone wants to see it prosper.

a world where everyone has quirks, except for our main character, who strives to be a hero despite that

the number two hero is anything but when behind closed doors.

the number one hero comes off as endlessly joyful, yet is more tired than anything

a world where your worth is based on your quirk

a world that is so obssessed with heroes that hidden crimes are just forgotten

a boy who was so hurt that he could only hurt in turn

a girl who was so restricted that she can't understand personal space

a boy who was neglected for being weak so he strives to become stronger and in turn only hurts himself more

a boy hated simply for looking different so he rejects the world for the world rejects him

and a boy hurt by everyone around him, but uses that to make the world a kinder place.

all of this is present within mha, but none of it is expanded on, or if it was, it felt like lip-service at best, and downright insulting at worst.

the powerless mc gets an incredibly powerful quirk and forgets he was ever quirkless.

the number two hero is abusive but it's totally okay because he regrets it and his abusive scenes are treated lightly later on

the number one hero goes back to his old ways when he finally gets a chance to be himself

there is no commentary on quirkless discrimination, and we barely see the impacts of having a 'weak' quirk

hidden crimes are explored, but there isn't anything regarding how the future generation will solve this issue

that boy who could only hurt after he was hurt so much? yeah he dies despite the mc wanting to save him so desperately, and there is no satisfaction in it. because he still didn't want to be saved

that girl who was so restricted that she couldn't understand personal space and boundaries? yeah, she never learns what they are, and nobody directly calls her out on this

that boy who was so neglected for being weak and only hurts himself the stronger he strives to become? well, it's actually his fault because he couldn't forgive his abusive father. his misplaced envy towards his abused brother is never delved into

that boy who rejected the world that hated him for being born? yeah, he's never shown any kindness from the people who should be showing it. instead, he's taken down while he's lost his mind and becomes a massive hypocrite

that boy who was hurt by everyone around him yet still wants to save others? yeah, he's still being hurt by everyone around him and is never praised for helping people, only scolded by others. he loses everything and isn't even allowed to work for it again.

the set-up for everything is so good, but the pay-off and the execution is just not.

i feel like horikoshi was winging it half of the time, hence why he forgot about the traitor plot point. something fans were speculating about for years, horikoshi just forgot. it's like - he set it up as early as the usj, forgot to build up aoyama's character, and speedran it. because of this, it didn't feel earned.

'you can still be a hero,' does not feel earned at all. why should we care about aoyama when the creator himself doesn't? the traitor could have been anyone, and it wouldn't have changed a thing, because the set-up was gone. by the time he'd remembered there was a traitor, everyone else forgot about it.

the same goes for the deaths.

i've seen people commend mha for killing people off, but, the things is, do we really care about who was killed off?

nighteye? he was a dick, and it was clear horikoshi was trying to do a whole 'redemption in death' thing, but let's be honest. we only care about the impact it had on mirio, which wasn't even much. it could have been anyone. nighteye surviving wouldn't have changed anything.

midnight? we did not spend nearly enough time with her to give two shits about her death. maybe if she were 1-a's homeroom teacher, as was originally planned, it may have meant more. as it was, who cared? she didn't even die on-screen. it could have been anyone.

native? i don't even need to explain. nobody cared.

star and stripe? did anyone really get attached to female all might? no, because there were no dimensions to her.

stain? what did his death serve? what would have changed if he survived? nothing

like, if you kill someone off, it has to mean something. what was learned by nighteye's death? heroes die? we learned that ages ago with the water hose heroes, and with stain's mini-arc. maybe it was to show, yeah, we're not afraid of killing people off.

but it didn't mean anything! at least have nighteye learn something. make it a proper tragedy - maybe he wants to apologise to all might but all might arrives too late. maybe he finally acknowledges that it was never his right to dictate who gets ofa and really apologises to izuku. maybe he can't even say goodbye to mirio.

maybe, in trying to do something, his sacrifice means nothing... until, when he's already dead, it's revealed that it did.

killing a character off to show how serious you're getting is fine... if it weren't already clear that it was serious.

people say killing off so many was mha being realistic, but they don't understand two things.

one: if you want to be realistic, kill someone off in the usj, because a bunch of kids just starting school should not be able to hold off against actual villain. if you want to be realistic, have the kids be shoved into counselling after the usj. if you want to be realistic, have aizawa die against the noumu. that's realistic

two: NOBODY GOES TO ANIME FOR REALISM!! seriously, if you want realism, go watch an indie movie or something. not anime, where everything is drawn and people have superpowers and tripping over means you accidentally grope someone.

the thing about killing characters off is that it has to mean something to both the characters and the audience. if we do not care if a character dies, it does not need to be there.

example: (spoilers for one piece ig) whitebeard from one piece. even now, people still quote his dying message. 'the one piece is real'. both this line and his death have a massive impact in-universe, and we the audienced cared, despite the relatively short time we go to know him. his death actually mattered. had whitebeard not died in marineford, i guarantee that nothing would be the same.

fishman island wouldn't have been taken over by big mom. marco and izou would not have appeared in wano, or if they did, the entire whitebeard alliance would have shown up too. there would still be a balance in the emperors. sengoku would not have retired.

there are ripple effects from whitebeard's death, and everyone one piece fan still remembers it clearly. and the same goes for every other death in one piece: ace, bellemere, kuina, hiriluk, tom, the rumbar pirates, rojer. every death had its meaning and affects either the world as a whole or specific characters who would go onto impact the world anyway.

mha just doesn't let you care about the characters it kills off, nor do their deaths have meaning, because there isn't a pay-off.

the set-up is there. the pay-off is not.

and that, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, is my biggest issue with mha. horikoshi's execution.

[da-rulah]

Rituale Septem - Day 7: Pride

Pairing: (Terzo x f!reader)

Summary: All Hallow's Eve is here, and you're more lost now than you ever had been. Whilst the Ministry gets ready for their biggest night of the year, you're dreading it. Will you reconcile your issues before it's too late?

Rating: Mature, MDNI 18+

Word Count: 18.1k (how tf did that happen...)

Warnings: angst, pining, arguments, lots of emotions, p in v sex, creampie 

AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

A/N: Here it is... the final chapter! I just want to thank anyone and everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented on this fic. It was the biggest project I've ever worked on (74,000+ words wtf...), and one of my favourites of all time. I'm so grateful for the love on it, and I hope this ending doesn't break too many hearts... Happy Halloween to you all! I love you 🫶🏻

Prev: Day 6 - Greed

October 31st: All Hallow’s Eve 

The hum of excitement in the halls of the Ministry travelled from sibling to sibling. On this, the most sought-after date in the calendar of any Satanist, the corridors were alive with jubilation. 

All Hallow’s Eve was a time for many to perform their rituals, to manifest for the year ahead, to reap the rewards since the last harvest season. While the majority of the world would ward off the evil spirits, demons and creatures of the night, the Satanic Church welcomed them. With November 1st being the Catholic’s traditional day of the Saints, tonight was reserved for the sinners.  

The most common use of this magical night, was to commune with the dead and the inhuman, and take advantage of the thinned veil between worlds as night fell. Offerings could be made for a fruitful season ahead, manifestations could be created and spells and rituals could be completed with deities and demons alike.  

Whether the Siblings were attempting something themselves or simply here to enjoy the night of mischief and leisure at the All Hallow’s Ball, the atmosphere within the stone walls was electrifying. There wasn’t a single Sibling in the Ministry who wasn’t looking forward to the festivities. 

Save for one. You.  

As you trudged through the halls towards Secondo’s office that morning, you felt like the only person whose world to had been drained of colour, as if a black shadow hung over you and blew out the flame of excitement of each person you passed. People stopped their conversations just to look at you, their smiles drooping when they saw the look you couldn’t hide in your eyes. Exhaustion, mixed with a hint of hurt.  

It emanated from you, and it was clear to see. A few Siblings you knew asked you if you were okay, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the jubilation in the hallways but you dismissed each question with a nod and a well-rehearsed “I’m fine”. 

Based on Swiss’ advice yesterday, he had told you feeling wasn’t to be hidden away from; to deal with them instead. The first step to feeling with feelings, surely, was to feel them. And so, you allowed your misery to take over last night and soak your pillow as you failed to sleep. Your mind raced with thoughts of Terzo, images of the times you had spent in his arms, pressed against him, wrapped around him and completely and utterly enamoured with him.  

And then, you would torture yourself with the opposite; the scene you’d walked in on, his cruel teasing, his dismissal of you on fancy parchment. Each positive memory felt like a sooth to the burn, and each negative, a fresh, hot poker into the same wound.  

You could admit it to yourself now; the time spent with him not only in the last week, but since you had arrived in his office, poured your soul to him and began your closer, flirtatious relationship – if you could even call it a relationship – had been enough to show you a side you needed to get to know. You were falling for a man you could never have; a man incapable of love, it would seem.  

There was more to Terzo than people thought – that much you had learned. You'd seen hints of a sensitivity in him; an odd look here, a fond smile there, the mention of his dear Nonna, his somewhat unexpected knowledge of Opera... But you had come to expect too much of him, and gotten yourself into hot water. 

But every time you had tried to figure him out a little more, he’d held you at arm’s length or proven in some way that he was just as unbothered and disinterested as you feared. The more you thought about it through the night, the tighter the barbed wire around your heart squeezed.  

You’d considered not going to work at all today; you weren’t sure you could face people, much less Secondo. But against your better judgement, you’d thought a sense of normality might help to ground you.  

When you walked into Secondo’s office, he couldn’t hide the shock on his face that you’d showed. Don’t get him wrong, he was glad to see you, but he’d expected you to be... busy. You still had one final sin to go, after all.  

“Oh... B-buongiorno, sorella...” he stuttered a little in his surprise. “I thought you would be indisposed today? I don’t mind if you need to-” 

“I’d rather keep busy for a bit at least, Papa. If you don’t mind...” you interrupted, your voice quiet and subdued. His brow creased, concern flooding his ageing features. You missed it, avoiding eye contact as you sat at your desk.  

“What happened?” he asked sternly, “which stronzo do I have to skin alive?”  

Your lips quirked in a smile at his protectiveness of you; something you’d only noticed of him recently, but when you thought about it, had been present for a few years now. But unless he wanted to flay the skin directly from his brother’s own back, he would have to be kept in the dark on this one. 

“It’s nothing Papa, I’m just... exhausted. Long week,” you chuckled, devoid of humour entirely.  

“Of course, but it’s almost over, cara mia. One final push, so to speak,” he encouraged. But in your mind, it was already over. You weren’t sure you had it in you to attempt one more genuine devotion of sin. The weight on your shoulders had crashed around you last night and left you feeling far too broken.  

“Perhaps one final act would put fratello mio in a better mood, also,” he mumbled, shaking his head to himself as he busied his hands with filing invoices for the suppliers of tonight’s Ball. You looked up at him curiously. 

“I-I’m sorry?” you asked, as if you hadn’t heard. But really, you needed more information. Secondo sighed, ripping his spectacles from the end of his nose and letting his hand drop to the desktop. 

“Perhaps Sister Imperator is on his culo (ass) again, but he is acting unlike himself. He’s snappy, irritable... but then when he thinks I do not see, he looks sad,” he explained. “I had warned him the papacy was not for the faint of heart...” 

You thought over his statement for a moment. Sure, his role was demanding, and you knew better than anyone that Sister Imperator was a tyrant; she reminded you of Ms. Trunchbull from Matilda, yet somehow scarier, because she could be kind...  

But sad? What did he have to be sad about? Perhaps it was childish, but you found yourself getting defensively angry at the notion. How dare he when he’d caused, well... this.  

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing papa today,” you deadpanned.  

“Oh... is... Did he do something? Oh, Sorella, did you break his heart?” he teased, pouting dramatically to mock Terzo more so than you. He laughed to himself until he saw the look on your face, shutting himself up and tumbling headfirst into a thought process that led him into silence. 

Maybe his brother had done something. Knowing him, he had cocked up whatever bond he had managed to cement with you in some way. Secondo would lovingly describe his younger brother as un fottuto bambino in tunica (a fucking baby in a robe); immature and yet, held power. It would not shock him if he’d fucked this up, the way he seemed to fumble every potential romantic relationship he’d ever had. None of his conquests had ever moved past just that; his brother was far too terrified of feeling to admit to falling for anybody, and so, nothing ever came of his many charades with women and men alike.  

'What if he’s doing the same now?’ he thought to himself. Terzo did have a pattern, one Secondo had recognised when someone was getting too close to him. He would shoo them away, do something to make them hate him so that he didn’t have to be the one to break it off. Give them a reason to walk away from him, and then he could justify his solitude. 

“Oh, ragazzo idiota,” Secondo muttered to himself.  

“I’m sorry, what was that, Papa?” you asked, having missed it.  

“N-nothing... Sorella, you want to keep busy, sì?” he asked, dismissing his thoughts. You nodded, looking through your notebook to find an unattended task to take up. “Don’t busy yourself with paperwork, dolcezza. You should do something amongst the festivities! Get some fresh air; Primo has asked for you, actually. He’d like some help with pumpkin picking. His frail old hands aren’t what they used to be...”  

Secondo sounded overly kind, as if he were stepping around the issue. It didn’t come naturally to him, outward kindness. You always knew when he was putting it on, or trying to hard; he was most certainly doing that now.  

“Why would Papa Primo ask for me?” you asked suspiciously. He had his own assistant, not to mention the Ghouls were on hand for manual labour.  

Secondo just shrugged, “More like he asked for some help, and I put your name forward, if you were to be available. You don’t mind, do you?” 

Truthfully, no you didn’t. Fresh air may be a good idea, and particularly in the quiet seclusion of Papa Primo’s gardens when the rest of the Ministry would be preparing for tonight’s festivities. You could hide from their excitement and wallow in self-pity for a little; that sounded just fine to you. 

“I’ll head out to the gardens now. Do you need anything else from me, Papa?” you asked, standing and tidying your things away into your desk.  

“No, dolcezza. But... if my brother has done anything to upset you, I...” he stopped himself, trying to pick his words carefully. “Just know, he is a fool.”  

You stared blankly at him, blinking a few times whilst you tried to think of something to say back to him. You couldn’t quite decipher the tone of his voice, or the laced meaning in his words. But before you could give it much thought, he dismissed you to the rest of your day.  

“I’ll see you at the Ball, dolcezza. Don’t think you’re getting out of giving this old man a dance,” he smiled. Smiling looked unusual on Secondo’s face, but in this moment it felt comforting. You felt like he had your back, he was in your corner, batting for your team... He was telling you he’d make sure you enjoyed tonight, Terzo be damned and despite the success or failure of the ritual.  

He’d still be there; your friend. 

“Who picked this orange? It’s too bright...” Terzo grunted, swatting at the drapes Swiss was hanging up in the Great Hall.  

“Y-you did, Papa?” he answered from the top step of the step ladder Dew was holding still, frankly a little scared of the way Papa was acting today. While everyone else was in a particularly joyous mood, Terzo was on a war path. His mood was foul, snapping at anything and everything he possibly could.  

“Well... I... shut up,” Terzo threw his hands in the air and stomped off to check on the Siblings setting up the round dining tables and various casino games on the outskirts of the hall – Secondo's idea; a very big fan of the Vegas strip. His head was all over the place, unable to focus. Not only did he have to play the Papa role at tonight’s Ball, but he was battling with the thoughts of you at the same time.  

Did you complete your sin yesterday? With who? No, that didn’t matter. None of his business. Would you complete the ritual? Or had he fucked that up too? Lucifer, he’d never forgive himself. 

“Papa!” he heard someone called to him and quietly groaned at the footsteps quickly approached, clacking on the marble of the floor. “Papa, could I... eh, could I talk to you? Per uno momento, (For one moment,) I shall not keep you...”  

Terzo span on his heels in the middle of the dancefloor, having not yet reached the gaggle of Siblings arranging tableware on the opposite end of the Hall. His younger brother, Cardinal Copia, was scurrying towards him with a sheepish look on his face, a blush that gave away his shame.  

“What is it, fratellino? I’m a little busy with preparations...” Terzo tried to dismiss him, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t care to look him in the eye after Sunday, when he had seen you... on top of him.  

“Sì, sì, scusi, I just...” Copia stopped in front of him, lowering his voice from the rest of the Hall, “I have felt somewhat guilty since Sunday, Papa.”  

“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me Papa, Copia? Just Terzo will do,” he fussed, raising his hand to stop Copia’s protests about ‘lineage’ and ‘formality’. He completely glazed over the mention of Sunday, not wanting to address it at all. “You are my brother. It’s weird.” 

“Okie dokie...” he hung his head in apology. “But... Sunday,” he began again. Terzo raised his palm again.  

“I will knock next time,” he said. 

“Well, yes, but... I’m sorry,” Copia forced his apology on Terzo, willing him to listen to him, as if not having the opportunity to apologise was somehow paining him. He needed him to know his intentions. 

“What... what are you sorry for?” Terzo asked, confused and frankly, a little nervous. He had a feeling he knew where this was heading, his brother able to read him easily as he did most people.  

“I saw the look on your face, Terzo. It wasn’t just disgust at what you’d seen me doing. I saw rage, Terzo. And... pain.” Copia kept his voice low to not attract attention, his eyes searching his brother’s face for his reaction. He could have been way off base here, but part of him knew. It told him that no, he was right; Terzo was genuinely upset by what he saw. 

Terzo stared at his brother, his heart rate picking up in his chest. He didn’t need every damn brother knowing what he was thinking all the time, and he didn’t feel like having to explain himself or coming up with excuses. He didn’t have the energy to pretend today, and so, he began to turn and walk away.  

It was cowardly and he knew it; walking away from the truth, pretending it didn’t exist. But he couldn’t do this; not right now.  

“No, wait!” Copia grabbed his arm, quietly calling to him. Terzo stopped, hanging his head low and turning back.  

“Copia please, not here. I can’t... not today.” 

“When I walked into her in the hall that day, she was upset by something and I need you to know I don’t think she was in her right mind when she... dragged me to my workshop. She didn’t want me, she wanted something and I just happened to be there,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “and I’m the weak and pathetic man who allowed it. Swept up, I suppose.” 

Both brothers shuffled on their feet uncomfortably, neither one speaking for a moment as they both wallowed in their shame. Terzo had known you were upset; of course he did, it was his doing. But he’d been able to ignore that for the most part, try and stuff it down in a suitcase he could throw to the bottom of a lake and forget about completely. But he didn’t realise it would float back to the surface. His guilt ate him up.  

“You’re... you’re not weak, Copia,” Terzo managed to say. It was possibly one of the nicest things he’d said to him in a long time, their relationship very much strained thanks to their estranged father. Copia simply smiled delicately in thanks and pity.  

“You should tell her, fratello.” Terzo laughed bitterly, at that.  

“Tell her what, exactly?” he shrugged, feigning ignorance.  

“How you feel,” Copia persisted, “I didn’t miss the anger on her face, either. I fear I came between something...” 

“I can’t tell her anything, Copia. She doesn’t deserve me,” Terzo’s gaze hardened, his jaw locking up tightly as he stared into his brother’s eyes.  

Copia frowned at that statement; what, you were not good enough for him? Copia knew you well enough to know he’d be lucky to find a woman half as deserving of love as you. He knew his brother could be a pig-headed and proud man, but that was potentially one of the most arrogant things he had ever said.  

When Terzo realised the annoyance on Copia’s face, he scoffed, shaking his head and staring down at his feet.  

“No, Copia... she doesn’t deserve me,” he looked up then, sadness filling his eyes and a soft sigh escaping his chest. “No one deserves that burden.” 

Without another word, Terzo turned and walked the rest of the length of the Hall, leaving the Siblings and Ghouls to their preparations, and a rather deflated looking Copia in the middle of the empty dancefloor.  

He just wanted to be alone. 

The chill in the air bit at your skin the second you stepped outside, wrapping your cloak tightly around you as you acclimatised after the warmth confined to the Ministry’s inner walls. The air felt fresh, with a dew settled as a low fog over the hills in the distance. The landscape looked quite perfect for All Hallow’s Eve morning.  

You took the short winding footpath that led to Papa Primo’s gardens, noticing you hadn’t come across another sibling or ghoul on your way through. They must be inside, getting things ready for the biggest night of the year or enjoying their freedom from seminars and work duty that came with the holiday.  

When you knocked on the door to Primo’s greenhouse, you heard a groan as if Primo had been sat when you arrived, dragging himself up while his aching bones protested. He came to the door, greeting you with a warm smile and open arms ready to engulf you in a hug you had come to expect of the eldest Emeritus. In his old age, he’d grown softer, and tended to greet his Siblings this way now. 

“Sorella _____! Oh, Happy Halloween to you, cara mio,” he beamed as you gently hugged him, careful not to knock his balance. 

“Happy Halloween, Papa,” you smiled, strikingly good at masking your sadness around him. Perhaps it was simply Primo’s comforting aura.  

“Did Secondo send you to help with the pumpkins?” he asked, taking a step back but grasping your hands in his.  

“He did,” you chuckled, “I needed the fresh air.” 

“Sí, sí, well let’s get started, eh? Would you fetch me a wheelbarrow from the tool shed, cara? I will find the clippers; those stalks are stubborn this year!” he turned in his spot to rifle through the shelves by the door, and left you to run to the shed and grab the wheelbarrow he’d requested, plus a camping stool for him to sit on. You met at the pumpkin patch, largely overgrown with an assortment of pumpkins the size of boulders down to footballs. You sat the wheelbarrow near the front of the patch, and took the shears Primo had collected from him. 

“Relax, Papa. I’ve got this,” you smiled sweetly, kneeling beside a group of pumpkins ready to cut into the stalks and pile them into the wheelbarrow while Papa rested on the stool you’d brought for him. 

“Ah, you think me too frail, Sorella?” he teased, instantly eating his words when he groaned taking a seat. 

“Not me, Papa. Your joints, however...” you laughed. Papa couldn’t deny that, letting you get away with the cheek for now with a fond smile.  

“I trust my brother is keeping you busy?” he asks, forcing your hand to pause it’s cutting as you looked back at him, wondering what he was getting at. He didn’t mean...? “Secondo? Is he keeping you busy as usual, Sorella?” 

“O-oh! Yes, of course. Always,” you laughed, relieved and turning back to the pumpkins. Primo smirked, knowing full well why you’d panicked. But he’d let it slide, for now.  

“Good, good... And you’re doing well in yourself, cara?” he asked, making conversation. Except, he was prying. Primo knew more than he was letting on, but he was manipulating the conversation in a way that you may be more forthcoming...  

But you didn’t know how to answer him. You wanted so desperately to be honest with him, feeling comfortable and trusting him but the fear of judgment and embarrassment made you hesitate. And you hesitated a moment too long, chewing on your bottom lip and stilling your progress on the pumpkin stem you were hacking into.  

Primo saw an opening. 

“Hmm... you said you needed the fresh air too, earlier. Cara mio, something is bothering you, is it not?” he asked, leaning forwards to rest his forearms on his knees, holding your gaze when you looked up at him beside you.  

“Well, I... um...” you stuttered, wondering how you would even begin this conversation.  

“It’s okay, fiorellina (little flower),” he softened his voice, reaching his palm to rest gently at your cheek that had pinkened now you were flustered, “I know you have been performing Rituale Septem,” he admitted.  

You froze; your body seemed to simply stop working, lungs and all as you held your breath. How did he know? What did he know? You were mortified... It felt like your Grandpa had just told you he’d heard you having sex; just icky. You hoped he didn’t think any less of you for it. His opinion of you mattered to you more than you realised.  

“I must say, it was brave to take on this ritual, Sorella. You must have been at your wits end to try and accomplish this. I’ve never seen it completed in my lifetime; it always gets too messy,” he praised, giving you a sense of relief that he certainly did not think less of you at all. But messy; yes. That’s one way to put it. “I hear it got messy, Sorella...” he spoke so softly, a look of sympathy on his face.  

“I think it did, yes...” you hung your head in shame, slowly beginning to cut back into the pumpkin stem you were working on. Primo hummed in acknowledgement.  

“Well done, _______. For fighting back, I mean. He plays too many games, il mio idiota fratellino, (my idiot little brother,)” he scoffed, shaking his head.  

“He told you, then?” you deduced, focussed entirely on this ruddy pumpkin stalk that just would not cut. You hacked into it, anger building.  

“He did, sí... Hey, hey!” he raised his voice, reaching out to your wrist to stop your assault on the stalk that had become entirely too violent. “Fiorellina, per favore! (Little flower, please!) Violence does not suit you.” He ran his gloved thumb over your cheek, wiping at a stray tear that had fallen and chilled on your cheek in the autumn air. 

“S-sorry...” you mumbled, letting the shears drop to the ground in front of you and sitting back on your heels in defeat.  

“I hate to pry, but... did you manage to complete a sin yesterday?” he asked, “Terzo said you had two left when he came to me. If you did, then there is still hope you can talk to Lucifer tonight.” Primo evaded the subject a little, putting a pin in the Terzo dynamic for the time being to understand what position you found yourself in now. He could only help with the full picture, and if you had failed yesterday, then attempting any sin today was futile.  

“Yes...” you winced, “Swiss and Dew... Greed.” Frankly, you’d felt guilty ever since. Whilst the Ghouls were lovely, and handled you well, took care of you and even stayed with you for comfort long into the night... It had felt weird to sleep with them when you were so clearly hung up on another man. You had used them; with their knowledge and consent, yes, but something still didn’t sit right about it now that your feelings of ugly jealousy and hopelessly unrequited adoration were painfully obvious to you. 

You picked the shears back up and began to cut into the stalk again, needing to busy your hands.  

“Okay, so one final sin. Have you given much thought to how you might accomplish this one? Pride, isn’t it?”  

Truth be told, you had thought about it briefly yesterday, and then given up hope. When you’d woken up this morning, you’d resigned yourself to failure already. You shook your head no, “I don’t think I’ll be completing this ritual, Papa.” 

“You don’t wish to speak with The Dark One?” he asked, straight to the point.  

“Of course I do, but... things have changed, Papa,” you sighed, finally cutting the stalk of the oversized pumpkin in front of you and moving to lift the bastard thing into the wheelbarrow. It dropped with a thud, and you knelt next to the smaller one beside the first, beginning to cut into that stalk also.  

Primo nodded in thought, knowing exactly what had changed; you’d fallen for his idiota fratellino. 

“You know, I understand wanting to give up, Sorella. Believe me, I do,” Primo shuffled, getting himself comfy as if about to tell a story. And he was. “When I was a young man, long before your time, I had wanted to give up too. I was a bishop, then. I couldn’t juggle everything... My responsibilities, my faith, mio fratelli... Our padre, he was too busy with women and drugs; eh, it was the 60’s. Everyone was experimenting, but he was absent, and with no madre in the picture, that was all down to me. 

“Terzo was... un incubo (a nightmare). Particularly after his madre passed. I cannot say I blame him, but... he tested me. I remember one day when he was seventeen, even his nonna could not rein him in. He thought he was big and clever going out to drink and sleep around and he was acting too much like il suo inutile padre, (his useless father). His nonna called me very early in the morning to tell me he had come home drunk and angry yet again, and I didn’t know what to do with him anymore. I wanted to give in,” he sighed, recounting the memory.  

“Truth be told, Sorella, I thought he had been too damaged to save. Nihil was not only absent most of the time, but a vile creature to his children when he did show. As a result, Terzo deals very badly with emotion. Particularly affection, or love...”  

Primo let the thought hang in the air between you for a moment, gaging your reaction. He had a point to make here, and he was spoon feeding you, guiding your thought process.  

“He’s never exactly received much love in his life, and when he does, it scares him. He finds a way to push it away from him before he’s even aware he’s doing it and then... it’s too late,” he sighed, finally making eye contact with you, who had stopped cutting into the next stem long ago to listen along. He noted the tears shining in your eyes and knew he was on the right track; he was chiselling away at the wall you tried to build between you and his brother. 

“Mio fratellino is constantly getting shit on from a great height, in a manner of speaking. Nothing he has ever done or will do is good enough for people; they expect more and more of him every day. I’m sure he feels he is not worthy of the love he deserves. But he is a proud man. Too proud... He would never admit he craves that acceptance.”  

You should have seen it. You should have known there was something more here, you’d even caught glimpses of it. You saw the stress on his face after your encounter with Secondo, his hand woven in his hair, brow creased at his desk. He’d talked about his nonna at dinner, how fondly he’d smiled at the mention of her. You’d felt the tension after he’d explained the opera to you, his internal battle of ‘should I kiss her? Should I not?’ playing out in his eyes – he'd denied himself then, you remember the disappointment...  

He was letting you in... and then shutting you out again. And you’d missed it every time.  

Primo saw your mind racing and let you have a moment, contemplating his words before he dove back in to chisel away further into that wall.  

“Sorella, I feel I must tell you something...” He leaned forward, taking the shears from you and taking your hands in his, “When he came to me on Sunday, he was angry. I believe he had just seen something he wished he hadn’t.” You knew what that meant, and you hung your head in shame. You felt unbelievably guilty now; sure, he had started it, but you had used his own brother against him.  

Primo picked your chin up, curling his finger underneath it to raise your gaze back to his above you.  

“He wasn’t angry at you, fiorellina. In fact, the only person he was angry at was himself. And perhaps a little at Copia, but that was misdirected... He kept babbling on about how he had ruined your ritual, how he was terrified you’d never forgive him, that you’d leave... My point, cara mio, is that not once did he say a bad word about you.” 

Your bottom lip quivered with unspoken emotion. The tears welling in your eyes spilled down your cheeks and chilled your skin. Words failed you, all you could think of was him, running the signs over and over in your head that he was holding back, that he was hiding. It had taken Primo pointing out the obvious, giving you background and context, for you to realise what had been happening. But now you had... what do you do? 

“P-Papa... What do I do?” you sobbed quietly into his hands, now enveloping your reddening cheeks. Primo smiles softly at you, caressing your cheeks to remove the tear tracks.  

“Pride is a funny thing, fiorellina. It is about self-worth, sí? Vanity, conceit, even arrogance. But that is how God sees it. Lucifer teaches us different, when you read between the lines. Pride extends to those around you, to those you love,” he emphasises, “You can harbour pride for others, sí?”  

You nod at him; yes, yes you were proud of Terzo. So proud of him; your Papa. 

“But you have your own pride too, Sorella. You must know your worth. I must ask; are you worthy of my brother? Are you worthy of a Papa?”  

“Y-yes... I think so. I want to be good enough for him, Papa,” you cried, hiccupping in his hands. Finally being honest with yourself, you absolutely wanted that. You wanted to be the one to tell him how proud you were of him, how wonderful he was, how funny or sweet, how kind... How much you loved him. 

“There you have it... You know what to do, fiorellina,” he sits back, letting go of your face as your eyes dart from side to side in panicked thought. You had to go. You needed to see him. You’d force your way into his office if you must; screw whatever meeting he was in or whatever clergy member you had to throw out of his way. You looked at the pumpkin patch around you and back at Primo, desperate to get away to find Terzo but your sense of duty halted you; you’d promised to help an old man with his pumpkin patch. You couldn’t just run away from him... 

Primo saw your internal monologue plain as day, and chuckled to himself.  

“Go, go! Andare! (Go!) I will fetch some Ghouls. They're more efficient than you anyway, cara,” he joked, grinning at you with a wink. 

“Th-thank you, Papa...” you stood quickly, dusting the soil from your cloak and stepping forward to kiss his forehead in thanks, “I’m sorry... I just, I have to...”  

“Yes, yes. I shall see you at the Ball!” he called after you as you ran back through the gardens, your boots slipping slightly on the cobblestone paths under the dew that had settled on them. It didn’t deter you; nothing could. You just continued to run until you reached the Ministry again, out of breath by the time you were inside it’s warm halls.  

Where would he be? Today of all days, where would you find him? 

You’d tried his office first; no sign of him. Even Christine was nowhere to be found, her desk tidy and untouched. Fine, you would try the Great Hall. Perhaps they were setting up for the ball?  

As you ran into the hall, several heads turned towards the sound and caught you frantically scanning the crowds of siblings and Ghouls alike. You spotted Swiss and Dew, precariously balancing on a ladder and hanging fresh black candles on the large chandeliers. Swiss reached up to hang another candle, seeing you stood at the edge of the dancefloor and waved, wobbling on the ladder. Dew banged on one of the wooden rungs for Swiss to focus, until he too saw you and gave you a quick wave.  

Chrstine had been in the hall setting up a blackjack table, and had seen you run in too. Having been the first time she’d seen you since Sunday, she hurried over with a guilty expression. You didn’t notice until she was right beside you, tapping your shoulder to gain your attention from the rest of the room.  

“Sister ______?” she asked, forcing you out of your trance. “I just... I wanted to apologise for the other day.” You almost rolled your eyes; you didn’t have time for this!  

“It’s... it’s fine, really,” you said, looking around her desperately at the people around the room. Where was he?  

“No, _______, really... It’s not fine, I had no idea that-” 

“Christine please, it’s okay,” you interrupted, “where’s Papa?”  

“Well I just don’t want you to be mad at me, we’re friends after all, and I just-”  

“Christine!” you yelled, drawing the eyes and ears of everybody in the room again, the hall falling silent. Chrstine seemed taken aback, shocked you would yell but she finally quietened.  

“I’m... I’m not mad at you...” you continued, voice low to evade the attention of those now paying it very closely to you. “We are fine. I’m not angry. Just... tell me where Papa is.” Christine was baffled, but the crazed look in your eyes was enough to force an answer out of her; albeit, not a very helpful one. 

“I-I don’t know... I saw him walk out earlier but he didn’t come back. Did you try the office?” she asked, suddenly concerned.  

“Yeah, first place I looked,” you took a step back, wiping your hands over your face in exasperation, trying to think.  

“Oh... Maybe his quarters? He gets nervous before these kinds of events, maybe he’s getting ready?” she shrugged. You nodded along, turning as if to head in that direction. “Wait, sister!” she called.  

You turned slowly, trying your best to hide the annoyance on your face. Just let me go, you thought to yourself.  

“Is something wrong?” she asked. You sighed, realising you must have looked like a crazy person, bursting into the hall all dramatic and demanding she tell you where Papa was. You were frantic, and you must have worried her. 

“No. Nothing is wrong, I just... I need to talk to him,” you say plainly. “It’s important, but everything is okay.” 

“Okay...” she sounded suspicious, but didn’t press the matter, letting you turn and finally walk – calmly, so as not to draw more attention – back out into the hall. You then skipped into a run once out of earshot, finding your way to Terzo’s quarters. Thankfully, the halls were relatively empty, and you faced no more distractions.  

When you reached his quarters, you didn’t even knock. Pleasantries had gone out the window, and with the door unlocked you pushed your way into the door, opening it in haste and stepping inside, letting it slam behind you.  

You thought that with the door unlocked, it must have meant he was in here and yet... silence. Stillness. There was nobody, the living room vacant, kitchen empty. You sighed, turning to leave and readying to run through the halls again to find him when- 

“Who the fuck thinks it’s perfectly fine to just enter my fucking quarters unannoun-” Terzo bellowed as he stormed out of his bedroom door in the far corner of the apartment, his brain short circuiting when he stepped through the doorway and his eyes fell on you.  

His chest tightened, the breath knocked out of him. You were the last person he expected to see rush into his quarters; he thought he was picking a fight with Copia, maybe even one of the Ghouls or Christine but when he saw you stood in his living room, out of breath and flushed pink in the face with an expression that read as distress on your features, he blanked.  

Silence fell over you both. Neither knew what to say, too much rattling around inside your heads to fathom any words. All you could do was stare at each other until one of you would finally say something... 

“Are... are you okay?” he asked, finally shaking the fog from his brain and taking in how you looked; breathless, clearly panicked, wrapped in your outdoor cloak? He could see mud stains on your boots and the long skirt of your habit, a pink tinge to your cheeks suggesting you’d been running, and smudges of black around your eyes, as if you’d been crying. Terzo could only imagine that the ritual had failed yesterday. That you were here to scream at him for abandoning you, or chew him out for suddenly dropping you when you’d needed his help. 

“Do I fucking look okay?” you asked, weakly and with unintentional malice but it made him wince nonetheless. 

“Well, no, I...” he stuttered, avoiding your eyes that burned into him. 

“You see the state of me and you ask me if I’m okay?” You took a deep breath, shakily. “I had to perform greed yesterday. Without you. You weren’t there,” you cried, fighting back an angry sob. He wouldn’t look at you, too ashamed of the pain in your voice and terrified to see the tears on your cheeks that he knew he had caused. It was his fault you were going to fail this ritual, but he couldn’t... he couldn’t finish it with you. 

“Why would you want me there?” he asked, picking at his gloves and entirely unfocussed on you. It made your chest burn. 

“Because, I-” you paused. You didn’t want him to know yet, you were getting at something, trying to make a point. “You started this with me. We started this together!” you yelled, “I wanted someone close to me, and I get your Ghouls instead?” 

“Oh, per favore,” he scoffed, finally looking up at you. He was reacting with anger, his defence mechanism. He was doing it again; pushing you away, holding you at arms length and making you hate him before you would inevitably find a real reason to... “You’re close with Swiss. And you seemed to have no issue with that on Thursday when Phantom dove headfirst into-” 

“Could you just not be bothered anymore? Hm?” You needed him to listen. You needed to see how he reacted. You needed him to confirm what Primo had been saying. “You just thought ‘oh, I’ve helped enough. She can figure it out from here, no biggie’. You abandoned your ‘flock’?!” you yelled, accusing him of not doing the very thing he’d said to you when he’d kicked this whole thing off.  

Terzo’s eyes widened, his lips contorting into a grimace and his hands balling into fists at his sides. “So now you’re on my case too, eh? Now I’m not good enough for you either? Meraviglioso, (wonderful,) once again, Terzo, you miss the mark. You FAIL. AGAIN,” he screamed in sarcasm, the sound of his rage frightening you enough to take a step back from him, no matter the fact he was already a good two meters away from you in his living room while you stayed near his front door. His darkened eyes glared at you, challenging you. You stayed mute. 

“Go on, tell me more. Tell me how terrible a Papa I am, eh? Tell me how much you despise me, how little I do for this congregation, how disappointing I am. You are not the first, Sorella, and you will not be the last.” The sarcasm was a nasty shade of spite on him, but it did nothing to mask the hurt you saw so plainly now. You hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction from him, all you had wanted was for him to tell you the truth about why he hadn’t shown up yesterday. 

“Papa, I just meant-”  

“What, _____? Because I’m tired of it. I am tired of trying to do the best I can and knowing that it still is never enough,” his eyes burned with angry tears, ones he swore long ago he’d never shed again. He kept them at bay with a shake of his head. “You know, it’s no wonder you’re losing your faith in Him, Sorella. Not when you have a Papa who disappoints you, so.”  

You’d heard enough of this; you couldn’t let him think that was truly what you thought of him. Not anymore, it was breaking you. You took a few steps forward, slowly as if any faster would spook him.  

“Why didn’t you come?” you asked him again, stern and strong. He watched you edge towards him, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to collect himself. “Tell me, Papa. Why?” Your voice cracked, coming to a stop behind his couch where you rested your hands on the backrest for stability. Your legs felt like jelly, your head weightless and thrumming. 

“B-because, I...” He couldn’t. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t let you in, he’d only wreck it. He couldn’t explain why he’d needed to take a step back without confessing his feelings for you. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved so much better than him. 

“I wanted you. I needed you,” you told him, gritting your teeth as you spat the words at him.  

“You don’t need me,” he was trying to push you away again, to put up that wall around him. But after your talk with Primo, you could see it so clearly.  

“Don’t you tell me what I do or do not need, Papa. Don’t you dare. Because for the longest time, I had no idea what I needed, and now that I finally have some idea, you’re keeping it from me. You’re denying me, when you promised you would help me find it,” you sobbed, “I am telling you I needed you. Hear me!”  

Terzo’s eyes burned angrily into you, unable to look away from you as he fought with himself internally. He wasn’t getting it. Or if he was, he was being too damn stubborn to accept it. You couldn’t stop yourself anymore; he just needed to know. 

“Do you know why I left when I walked in on you fucking my friend, Papa?” you asked. He dropped his gaze to the floor, chewing on his cheek. He couldn’t look at you out of shame. “Because it hurt. It hurt too fucking badly. Because I had deluded myself into thinking that perhaps I was special to you in some way. And you know why I fucked Copia?”  

He visibly winced at your bluntness, those painful images flicking through his mind again. You were special to him, he thought. And it had scared him so much he’d pushed you away and into the arms of another man to exact your jealous-fuelled revenge. He was starting to see it now... But he remained still and unmoving; in denial. 

“Because he was just there. And I wanted to get you back. I wanted you to hurt, just like I was hurting. Do you know why, Papa?” Your voice sounded shrill, getting louder and more desperate the longer you berated him. But he just stood there, staring at the points of his shoes. Nothing. Silence.  

“Because I love you!” you yelled.  

His head snapped up, his eyes wild. He looked furious, as if steam would come shooting from his ears at any second. Under his stare you felt suffocated, just like you had when you’d caught him with Christine. All of the air in the room had been sucked out like a vacuum, your chest tight and unmoving.  

He glared at you, scrutinizing you, waiting for the punch line; one that wouldn’t come.  

“Say that again,” he demanded, jaw clenched impossibly tightly. You took a deep breath, your whole body tingling in fear. But you stood your ground; you had to. 

“I love you,” you told him, firmly. He just kept... staring. 

“Again...” He was challenging you. His voice was so dark, a timbre you would usually associate with rage, but something felt different. You persisted. 

“I love you.”  

His white eye twitched, his chest heaving in the silence.  

“...Again.” His voice softened, but only slightly. Had you not been listening, watching so intently, you would have missed it. His stare held up. But you could tell you were getting through... slowly. 

“I love you,” you told him again, your own voice softening considerably as fresh, hot tears dripped from your eyes. You meant it, with every fibre of your being. You’d tell him a thousand times until he believed you. 

“Again-” his voice cracked, the weight of his resolve beginning to crumble. You took a step towards him. 

“Papa-” 

“Per favore...” he stopped you from protesting, he just... he needed to hear it again. He shut his eyes, taking another deep breath. “Say it again, per favore.”  

With his eyes now shut, his voice shaking with the deep breaths he continued to take, you closed the distance between you both, still terrified you would scare him away.  

You lifted your hands, planting your palms gently on his cheeks. He raised his own, circling them around your wrists to hold you there as if you were about to disappear, that you’d turn and run from him when you realised what you were saying, what you were doing. But you were going nowhere.  

“I love you,” you told him again.  

Despite his eyes being shut, tears still escaped from the corners and dripped down his cheeks to your hands. But you just held him, you let them fall, let him feel... 

“Terzo...” you whispered to him, his eyes shooting open to stare into your own when he heard you call him by his name – his real name – for the first time. How beautiful it sounded from your lips. “I love you.” 

One last time, unprompted, was enough.  

In one quick motion, he pulled you forward and connected his lips with yours in desperation. His hands tightened around your wrists, before one dropped to the small of your back, needing you as close as he possibly could get you. Your grip on his head only tightened, holding him against you while you moulded your lips with his. He whimpered into the kiss – no, he sobbed – giving in to the surge of emotion. Your hands grew wetter as he cried, allowing it to pour out of him as if years of sadness and loneliness were being expelled and healed by just you.   

When he pulled his lips from yours, he couldn’t force himself to retreat, holding you close still as you caught your breath with your foreheads resting together. You dragged your thumbs over the tears on his cheeks, smearing his paints in the process but soothing him all the same. His breaths were shaky as he cried. He wanted to speak, to tell you everything on his mind but the words were falling over each other in the fight to be the first spoken. 

“Shhh,” you hushed him, “I’ve got you, Terzo. I’m here. I love you.” You hadn’t intended for that to make him cry harder, but it did; the kind of silent, repressed sobbing that a child does when they don’t want to be noticed.  

You lifted your forehead from his and waited patiently for him to look at you. There was still so much to say, but you focussed on calming him first.  

“Listen to me, okay?” you asked. He gave you a small nod, his reddened and waterlogged eyes searching yours. “You need to know, you are good enough.”  

He rolled his eyes then, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Hey! You stop that, you hear me?” you brought his chin back down to look at you, “You are a wonderful Papa. You are the perfect figurehead of this church. You care for your congregation. You make us feel safe, cared for. You make us feel heard and loved. You work so hard, Terzo, I’ve seen it. Fuck the Clergy, and fuck Sister Imperator. You are an incredible Papa, and I am so proud of you.” 

A fresh wave of tears fell from his eyes, but this time you cried with him. You meant every word, so sincerely.  

“You are good enough, Terzo. You are. And I swear, I’ll put all of my energy into making sure that I’m good enough for you, also,” you promised. 

“Amore mio, (my love,) you are more than enough for me,” he cried, pressing his lips to yours again, “Ti amo, Principessa. Ti amo tanto... (I love you, Princess. I love you so much...)” 

You pulled him back into a bruising kiss, your tears now falling freely. Terzo’s confession had swelled in your chest, blooming into a beautiful warmth. You’d longed to hear that, for him to open himself up to you and be vulnerable with you. Truly, you had never felt so loved than you had in his arms right now. 

With your feelings out in the open, the two of you sank into your kiss this time. There was no rush, no desperation. You allowed each other to melt into it, your lips danced together, creating room for you to taste each other again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers curling into the back of his hair, whilst his snaked around your waist and held you against him.  

With each passing second your kiss deepened, neither of you willing to let the other go for more than a millisecond to catch your breath. Terzo had missed your lips so much; just a day without you would have been torture, but four? Four days? He was surprised he’d survived at all. 

His tongue grazed your bottom lip, and you welcomed him willingly. Your fingers scratched at his scalp when you tried to pull yourself tighter against him, wishing to feel every part of him engulfing you. Naturally, a heat bloomed in your chest and swam through your veins to light your entire body on fire. Terzo could feel it too, pulsing through his veins over and over to the beat of his heart that rocketed with each tiny little whimper he heard you make. 

He took a step back, taking you with him towards the bedroom where he’d appeared from earlier, parting your lips and taking your hands in his to lead you as he walked backwards. He didn’t want to take his eyes off you for a second, scared this was a dream and that looking away would make you disappear from his grasp. You stayed close to him, chasing the high of his kiss while the feeling of his lips still tingled against your own. 

“Terzo, I’m sorry I made you feel like-” you began to talk again, like word vomit, wanting to settle any loose ends in your mind about the way you had treated each other recently, but Terzo had other ideas.  

“Shhh, principessa, we can talk later,” he said, still taking slow steps backwards as he held you, “Senza pensare, dai, facciamo l'amore. (No thinking, come, make love with me.)” 

And how could you deny him, when you wanted nothing more than him... 

He stopped just short of the end of his bed, bowing his head to press his lips to yours again. Quickly you were swept up in him, gripping onto his shirt as his hands came to undo the clasp of your heavy winter cape. It fell to the floor around your feet, and his hands came to wrap around your waist again, enjoying the freedom less fabric brought him. Your fingers nimbly undid the buttons to his shirt, lifting it from where he’d tucked it into his slacks and pushing it from his shoulders. His skin felt warm to your fingertips, the hair gathered on his chest as soft as you remembered it. 

You took a moment to look up at him, noting the smudged and messy paints his tears and your palms had ruined. It felt like one final barrier between you and him, a mask hiding the man beneath. And you wanted to get to know all of him... 

Gently, you pushed the centre of his chest allowing him to step back himself and take a seat on the edge of the bed. He expected you to join him between his knees, to bend at the waist and kiss him again but instead you took a step back, letting his hand drop from yours. His eyes widened in panic, but as he tried to protest, you hushed him.  

“I’ll be right back, my love. I promise,” you said earnestly, turning to head through the adjoining door to his bathroom. Flicking on the switch, you looked around to find a washcloth and some gentle soaps for his face, catching your reflection in the mirror. You, too, looked a mess; the black of your mascara had run and pooled under your eyes. You looked too sad; something you didn’t want attached to this memory. And so, before you headed back out to Terzo, you wiped the smudges away, baring your face for him.  

Back in his bedroom, Terzo sat nervously playing with his gloved hands until he heard your footsteps approaching him, washcloth in hand. His brows creased in confusion, but you smiled back softly.  

“Sit back, Papa,” you instructed, voice gentle and encouraging him to shuffle back. He did as you’d asked, and you hiked your habit up past your knees, now able to plant them either side of his thighs and sitting in his lap. “Relax,” you told him, bringing the dampened and sudsy washcloth to his face and wiping away the grease paint. He wrapped his arms around you, watching with gentle eyes filled with adoration as you washed away the evidence of his breakdown. 

Under the paints, his cheeks were flushed pink. As you cleaned, you revealed more parts of him that you were able to adore; the creases in his forehead that showed how hard he worked, the lines at the corner of his eyes that showed how much he smiled. He had a mole under his left eye, a few freckles dotted here and there. It made him all the more beautiful to you with each new detail.  

“There,” you smiled, wiping the last of the paints away. “Nowhere to hide now.” 

“I don’t ever want to hide from you again, amore mio...” His tenderness felt different, something you had only seen glimpses of throughout the few weeks you had been getting to know him, but you adored it; you adored every side of this man. He raised his hand to remove the veil concealing your hair, tucking it behind your ear as he leaned in to kiss you once again.  

You felt completely carefree in his arms, allowing him to unbutton your habit slowly while you trailed your kisses across his cheeks, his nose, forehead and back to his lips where he smiled one of the most genuine smiles you’d seen on him. It was contagious, spreading to your own lips. You chuckled quietly together as you removed your habit, shrugging it off to the floor behind you. He removed his gloves and his hands took their place on your bare waist again, and your lips took their place against his. 

With you hovering above him in just your underwear, he couldn’t help but pull you flush against him and deepen the kiss. He wanted you so badly, in a way he’d never had anybody before you – a way he’d never allowed himself to until you. Need swelled within you, your hips rolling against his lap, hands on his chest. You whimpered into his kiss with another roll of your hips, core brushing against his hardening bulge beneath you. His lips passed down your jawline, ghosting over the skin until he could mouth at your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your head rolled back, exposing more to him as you sighed in content.  

“You...” he paused, leaving another kiss to your neck, “are my pride and joy, amore mio,” he confessed, holding you tighter when another roll of your hips had him shivering in pleasure. He focussed his kisses further down, mouthing at your collarbone, your sternum, down to the swell of your breasts over the cups of your bra.  

Your head swam with emotion, unsure of how to really punctuate how much this meant to you, how much you adored him. You opted to show him, to continue chasing the intimacy.  

Terzo reached behind you, easily unclasping your bra and dragging it down your arms until he could lave his kisses over your breasts freely, paying particular attention to your nipples. Every single motion he made was done with care and attention no man had ever given you. You couldn’t help the breathless moans you let slip, nor the tight way your fingers curled in his hair and held him tightly.  

Pressure was building in your core, the kind that needed more attention than you had been giving it. Whilst you wanted to enjoy every second with him, you needed more from him; that connection you desired so fiercely. You pushed lightly on his shoulders until he was looking up at you in wonder. 

“Lay back, my love. Against the pillows,” you instructed softly. He nodded, shuffling back. You followed, stopping short of his hips in order to reach down and unbutton his slacks. He helped you to shimmy out of them along with his underwear, kicking his shoes off until they hit the floor with the rest of the discarded clothes. You hovered over him then, giving him a chance to drag your panties from your hips and let you shuffle from them too, leaving you both completely bare for the other to see; body and soul. 

“Amore, you truly are a wonder,” he whispered, tracing his fingertips down your arms when you sat across his lap once again. You weren’t sure how to reply to him, opting for a smile and another deep, passionate kiss as his arms enveloped you as you lay over his chest. 

Now nude, grinding down into Terzo’s lap had your core glazing over his length and hushed moans rising in your chests while muffled by your kiss. He could feel how ready you were for him, how much you needed him and he knew he needed you too. Yet, it was you who made the move to connect the two of you, reaching between you and lining him up to your entrance. Terzo sat up with you then, holding you to him to be closer to you and pepper kisses to your shoulders, back up your neck until he found your lips. 

You took him slowly, savouring the stretch and doing everything you could not to rush; with no preparation, you’d need a little longer but the arousal that had gathered made sure there was no pain. And while you sank down, Terzo’s lips made for the perfect distraction, moulding with yours so elegantly as he groaned beneath you. 

Now, finally sheathed inside your heat, he felt complete again. He felt connected to you, like each time he’d been here before. In his mind, you were made for him. You were all he wanted, all that mattered.  

The first roll of your hips was slow, careful, but it felt dreamy. You’d missed him so completely that finally having him and being so exposed emotionally as well as physically was overwhelming, and you could feel the tear that dripped to your cheek before you knew it was coming. As Terzo pulled his lips from yours, wanting to see you again, he noticed immediately. 

“Amore mio, don’t cry... I’m here,” he assured, running his fingers through your hair as you nodded, biting back more. He kissed your cheek where the tear sat, ignoring the saltiness and instead tightening his arms around you until your chests were pressed together.  

Together, you lost yourself in the moment, your pace slow enough for both of you to just feel; no rush, no real end goal in sight just yet. Just a moment to enjoy your connection, now bloomed and blossomed into something more beautiful that when you had first been together. 

But it couldn’t stay that way forever; not when the heat in your abdomen was growing slowly but surely, and when Terzo was beginning to lose his mind at how good you felt wrapped around him.  

In one swift motion and holding you together so he didn’t have to be without you shrouded around his cock, he rolled you onto your back against the pillows and settled himself between your legs. One arm came to wrap around the back of your thigh, pressing it up against your torso for a better angle, and he took control of the way he derived pleasure from you.  

His hips rolled into yours over and over, his pace a little faster than before, losing his resolve. He was becoming desperate to have you come apart for him again, to chase your high first and foremost before his own. Sathanas, he loved you so completely. He felt like a fool, a silly old man who’d let his own idiocy come between what could have been such a perfect thing.  

“Mi dispiace, amore mio... Mi dispiace così tanto, (I’m so sorry, my love... I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, gritting his teeth in an attempt to stop the tears he could feel coming.  

“Shhh, no... Terzo, it’s okay,” you assured him, taking his bare cheeks in your hands and making him look you in the eye. “I’m here now, it’s okay.” You pulled him to you, kissing him and melting the worries away in a heartbeat as he kept up his pace.  

“Tell me again, per favore...” he cried, “tell me you love me.” How could you deny him? How could you possibly, right now, not allow him to know once again how much you needed him. 

“I love you, Terzo. I love you, I love you...” you repeated between kisses, your fingertips pressing into his hair and gripping as the pleasure inside you built and built thanks to the intimacy of this moment together.  

“Cazzo, per favore...” he didn’t know what he was begging for, his pleasure sure enough about to come to a head. He needed you there too, he refused to allow himself his own selfish pleasures without you. He'd been too selfish already... 

And so, with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your thigh he used this thumb to draw circles over your clit, sending your head flying back into the pillows and your back arching underneath him, pushing your breasts into his chest as he thrusted more desperately into you. Any attempt at suppressing your moans failed, and they sounded like music to his ears; his darling principessa was singing for him once again. 

“Let go, amore. Per favore, let me feel you...” he asked so sweetly, breathless and strained. With a few further strokes to your clit and the relentless thrusting from your love above you, you saw stars. White spots twinkled in your vision and you squeezed your eyes shut, body tensing and convulsing underneath him when every single nerve ending in you exploded. Of all of the orgasms you’d had this week – and yes, there had been a lot – this hit you harder than any. Nothing could compare to the feeling of being loved. 

You tightened impossibly around his length, making movement hard for Terzo but he persevered; he couldn’t stop now, he needed to prolong your orgasm, he wanted to you to feel everything.  

“Ti amo, principessa. Sei tutto per me, non ti lascerò andare... (I love you, princess. You are everything to me, I won’t let you go...)” His words came out hurried, needing you to hear him, to confess again. Your grip in his hair tightened as you slammed your lips to his, writhing beneath him in the throws of your climax.  

Terzo groaned into you, his hips stuttering and his thumb forgetting it’s job on your clit when his own ending washed over him. Like your own, his orgasm hit him harder than any before now. The warmth of his release filled you, coating you and claiming you as his once again. He managed to continue some form of thrusting to prolong his pleasure and yours, until he found himself too exhausted to hold himself up any longer and released your thigh as he collapsed into your chest, his lips falling from yours to the nape of your neck where he lay. 

You wrapped him in your arms, pulling him tightly against you when you heard the first sniffle as he caught his breath, too tired to hold back the tears that prickled his eyes now he lay in your arms. Tears of your own fell too; a visceral reaction to hearing your love crying in overwhelm against you. For a while, you basked in the silence around each other and just allowed it all to come out. Given a few minutes to compose himself, Terzo shifted to lay beside you with your arms still wrapped around him.  

“I was a fool, ______,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to abandon you...” You stayed quiet, allowing him to say his piece. You felt like he needed that.  

“I was so sure I would be a distraction. I didn’t want to come between you and Lucifer. You deserve to have that conversation with him, and yet I fear now I have spoiled that for you...” he sighed, visibly still beating himself up in his head.  

“Hey, look at me,” you told him, tilting his chin up to you where he was shocked to see you smiling. “If we haven’t done enough, I don’t care.” 

“But amore, your faith... I know how desperately you needed his direction. If I have spoiled this for you, I won’t forgive myself...” he argued, lip trembling.  

“Terzo, I have direction. I know what direction I'm heading, and it’s whatever direction you happen to be in,” you told him, gently pushing his hair from his forehead and trailing your fingertips over his cheek to wipe away his tears.  

The smile on his face was so genuine, so adoring; you’d never seen him like this before. Barefaced and beautiful; your Terzo.  

You leaned in to kiss him again, tenderly and laced with a promise to stay by his side as long as he wanted you with him. And he did; he absolutely wanted you by his side.  

“Sorella, you look wonderful,” Secondo smiled, holding his elbow out to you as you joined him outside of his quarters that evening. You had agreed to meet him before the ball, to enter the Great Hall with him and have the first dance at the All Hallow's Ball. You looped your arm through his with a grin, happy to be by his side and accompanying him as his friend and colleague. 

“What, this old thing? You know, something I had lying around...” you laughed, an obvious lie when the ballgown you had chosen was nothing short of spectacular. This was the one night a year that the entire Ministry would dress up in absolute opulence, people arranging their outfits months in advance for the most important night of the year. You had been no exception.  

Your gown was off the shoulder, a satin material of deep green that complimented your skintone. Corseted and hugging your waist, it flowed freely to the floor with a split that allowed your leg to peek through as you walked. You’d paired it with a string of black pearls; a family heirloom you'd kept safe for years.  

“Well, you look bellissima. Come, we mustn’t be late,” he said, beginning the walk through the halls to the Great Hall.  

Music flowed through the Ministry, gradually becoming louder the closer you got. You could hear the jubilant chatter of siblings and Ghouls alike, the clinking of glasses, the laughter of a happy congregation. This morning, you had been terrified to face that, sure you wouldn’t be able to match their elation. It had all seemed so daunting, and you would have preferred to hide away from it.  

And yet, now... you could only smile along with it.  

After your confession to Terzo earlier, you had stayed with him for a short period of time. Reluctantly, you had to allow each other the time and space to ready yourselves for the ball, his role as Papa having to come between that tender moment of simply being together, honestly. But upon leaving his quarters, the relief you felt and excitement to see him again tonight was fuelling you, a revived energy you hadn’t felt for what must be months.  

Perhaps you hadn’t completed the ritual; and that was okay. As you had told Terzo, it didn’t matter to you anymore. You had learned enough about yourself through the experience to know where you belonged now, and that was here, in this Ministry, beside your Papa. After tonight, you would work on whatever your relationship would become; and that was more exciting to you than hearing Lucifer’s voice.  

The Great Hall looked immaculately decorated... The bright orange drapery that Terzo had complained about earlier that day looked a much more demure burnt orange in the candlelight. The pumpkins from Primo’s patch littered the tables and halls, carved expertly by the most talented of the Siblings in the Ministry. Black candles burned in candelabras and chandeliers so elegantly illuminating the dance floor. Casino tables dotted through the edges of the room, giving everyone a chance to unwind and enjoy the deviant games.  

As you entered, a few Siblings turned to Secondo and bowed their head in respect, as one would expect. You smiled proudly at him; although a retired Papa, he deserved that respect whole heartedly, and you felt honoured to be the friend he chose to have accompanying him through his new role. He gave your arm a tight squeeze with his hand, and immediately took you to the dancefloor where Siblings were dancing in pairs and groups to the music played by Terzo’s Ghouls on the stage; a haunting yet jolly classic orchestral melody fit for a spooky evening.  

“I may be rusty, Sorella. Perdonami,” Secondo smiled, adjusting his arm to hold your left hand extended, the other resting respectfully on your waist.  

“I’m sure you have a few moves left in you, Papa,” you winked, smirking as your feet moved in time with his, remembering from lessons you’d had before previous Balls that you were to let him lead. Quite quickly, the two of you were comfortable enough dancing in time to the three-count waltz the Ghouls were playing.  

The night continued, with no sign of your dear Papa just yet; but as per every year, he had to make his grand entrance as part of the festivities an hour or so into the Ball. Instead, you and Secondo had danced and found yourself a drink of champagne; you’d found Dew and Swiss and watched them bicker and fight over who got to dance with you first; or at least, Swiss bickered, Dew just kept swatting him away. Both were equally annoyed when you chose the stuttering Phantom to dance with first instead, laughing it all off with him when you’d settled comfortably onto the dancefloor again. 

Eventually, Primo and Secondo headed over to you on the dancefloor to interrupt just as Sister Imperator and a rather decrepit looking Papa Nihil made their way up onto the stage where the Ghouls were playing out another piece of beautiful music, clinking her glass to get the attention of the room. Primo bowed a greeting as much as he could, a sweet and knowing smile on his face when he saw that you, too, were smiling. It must have gone well, he thought to himself. 

“Siblings of Sin, Clergy... thank you for coming together on this most important night of our calendar, All Hallow’s Eve!” Imperator announced. The room cheered and clapped together. “Tonight, we celebrate the sinners of past, present and future, and join them in their devotion to The Dark One. As is customary of the evening, I’d like to invite our dear Papa Emeritus the third to join the celebrations, and to anoint our evening in a prayer to Lucifer.” 

You could see the slight twitch in the corner of her mouth at the mention of Terzo, her disdain for him buried under the surface. It simply made you roll your eyes with a smug smile; the old crow didn’t matter. She’d never understand Terzo like you did, never accept him as he deserved but now, he at least had you to counteract her unwarranted annoyance of him.  

As she finished speaking, Terzo stepped up onto the stage and took to the pulpit as the room applauded. He was dressed in his most elegant robes; purple and black velvet with gold accents, mitre on his head proudly and his hands covered with black leather gloves, gold claws on each finger. He looked so incredibly regal, and your chest swelled with pride in his presence. His eyes searched the crowd, until they settled on you, smiling and clapping for him where you stood. He smiled back, feeling more at peace within himself than he ever had. 

“Good evening, Sisters, Brothers and Clergy alike. As the festivities of this evening have already begun, I wish not to take too much of your time. However, please join me in a prayer of devotion to Lucifer,” he began, clearing his throat and opening an unholy prayer book he had brought with him. 

“Our Dark Father, on this sacred All Hallow's Eve, we come before You with hearts filled with reverence and gratitude. We lift our voices in worship and devotion, acknowledging Your eternal grace and divine presence.  

“On this night of solemn reflection, we bow before You, celebrating our sins and devoting them to you. We seek Your approval and ask for Your guiding hand to steer us towards temptation and lead us onto the path of wickedness. Grant us the strength to devote ourselves to sin and the courage to walk steadfastly in Your ways.” 

As he spoke, you couldn’t help but stare at him in awe, beaming with joy. How could this man ever believe he wasn’t good enough? How could anyone? He exuded confidence, charm, devotion and commanded the room with a charisma that was unmatched.  

Primo beside you nudged your elbow, catching your attention with a wink and a smirk. You shared a silent chuckle, affirming to him that yes, everything had gone well, and everything was okay. Primo’s shoulder’s sagged, like a weight had been lifted from them and sighed happily, looking up at his little brother at the pulpit again and refocussing on the prayer with pride. 

“As we commemorate this hallowed eve, we remember the deviance and devotion You embody. May this celebration be a reminder of Your teachings and let our gatherings be filled with joy that stems from the knowledge of Your unyielding love for us, your sinners. Help us to embrace this occasion as a time to reaffirm our commitment to Your teachings and to stand resolutely against all that opposes Your divine will. Nema!” 

“Nema,” the room cheered, taking a sip of whatever drink they had to hand at the time.  

“Now, please! Eat, drink, be merry... We devote ourselves to Him together tonight!” Terzo announced, raising his hands and gesturing for the Ball to continue. The crowds dispersed back to the bars, the games, the dancefloor, whilst Terzo headed to the side of the stage to talk mindlessly with Sister Imperator and his father. The music began again, and the Ball resumed.  

“So, I trust my dear fratellino and yourself have uh... talked?” Primo asked, prying for details. You chuckled, nodding. 

“We did. It’s all okay, Papa.” 

“And what of the Ritual?” he asked; he couldn’t help but be curious. To see it performed and completed in his lifetime would be nothing short of an achievement on your part. 

“Ah... Unfinished. But don’t worry, Primo. I think it’s for the better. Even unfinished, I don’t feel so lost anymore...” you smiled, resting your hand on his arm to reassure him that you truly were okay.  

“I see. Well, you did the Dark One proud anyway, cara mio. You have come the closest of those I have seen attempt it. And I hope from here, fratello mio will show you nothing but happiness. Just... be patient with him, sí? He will take some time getting used to this feeling, I’m sure,” he said. You nodded.  

Primo invited you to dance then, although... he couldn’t move quite as nimbly as Secondo or the Ghouls could and so instead you stepped in place with him, swaying to the music as you talked and laughed as if you’d always been as close to the Emeritus family as this. It almost felt as if you had, unknowingly. There was a newfound connection from the conversations and antics of the week that had solidified you as a close friend to them all. It felt comfortable, as if you had truly found your place in the Ministry. You realised then, that your wavering faith may have been an issue of breaking down your own walls, as well at Terzo’s. 

“Papa, mi scusi... I cannot help but notice that you are a terrible dancer, and not at all worthy of the hand of this bellissima principessa,” an instantly recognisable voice interrupted your thoughts and your dance with Primo. “May I suggest I take over, as someone with a little more youth to offer?” 

Primo stopped dancing, a scowl on his face of annoyance when he turned to Papa Terzo. “Piccolo bastardo impudente... (Cheeky little bastard...)” he muttered. Terzo held an amused glare before sending a wink your way. It was embarrassing, the way just that made you blush. With a sigh, Primo let you go.  

“Comportati bene con lei, sí? (Do right by her, yes?)” Primo said, although the meaning of it was lost on you, your Italian not strong enough to translate, “È destinata a stare al tuo fianco. (She is meant to be by your side.)” 

“Sí, lo so... (Yes, I know...)” he smiled gratefully, aware that it was in fact Primo who had helped not only him see clearer amongst this mess, but you also.  

As Primo left, he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and held it out for Terzo to take. He pulled you flush to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and his around your waist.  

“Papa, people are gonna think...” you began to protest, looking around at the eyes that had settled suspiciously on you both; most notably, Imperator’s. 

“Ah, let them. Are they wrong?” he teased, starting to dance to the music. “They would know soon enough anyway, amore mio. I don’t intend to hide you away,” he smiled.  

Terzo was a skilled dancer – because of course he bloody was... what couldn’t this man do? - and ignored the many pairs of eyes that watched you both, the whisperings of the gossiping congregation around him. He couldn’t care less for them, not when he had the most beautiful woman, his amore in his arms.  

“You look truly beautiful tonight, amore. As you always do,” he told you, eyes scanning over the dress you wore and the pearls settled around your neck. He was mesmerised by you, and you couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“Thank you, Papa,” you said shyly, focussing on the patterns of his robes to try and hide your pink cheeks. But it was no use, he could see the effect of his compliment and he chuckled to himself, his hands tightening around your waist. 

His gaze stayed on you as you danced together, talked together, laughed together, long into the night. 

Unfortunately, as a Papa, he did have to do the rounds at some point during the Ball, leaving you to your own devices with a promise to rejoin you as soon as he could run away from his duties. However, that did leave you with some free time to enjoy the Ball around you, and so you made your way over to one of the many casino games that were dotted around the Great Hall. Blackjack was your game. One of the few casino games you actually enjoyed, and wasn’t solely down to luck. It was more about knowing when to bow out, and when to raise the stakes.  

You sat at the table, the Sibling dealing placing two card in front of you, and two in front of the person to your right; Cardinal Copia.  

“Oh, hey Cardinal! How are you?” you asked, a little shyly having acted the way you did when he last saw you. The Cardinal was staring at you with wide eyes, a few garbled words attempting to make their way from his mouth before he finally managed to speak.  

“F-fine, fine, Sorella. And... you?” he asked, tentatively. He was well aware he had come between something on Sunday, and he was terrified he’d bear the ramifications of his actions.  

“All fine. Relax,” you laughed, “I feel like you should know, the other day... I was-” 

“I know. I... eh, I saw the look on your face. And on his. But is everything...?” he lingered on the question, unsure how to answer it when there was another person in such close proximity, dealing cards. 

“Good. Better than, even. If anything, I think that whole... situation... only served as an epiphany. So, no hard feelings?” you asked, extending a hand for him to shake. He did so awkwardly, but no more awkwardly than he would any other human being who tried to shake this poor man’s hand.  

“Sí, excellent, okay... Uh, let’s play?” he asked, gesturing to the cards. You nodded.  

You flipped your cards, immediately revealing two jokers. You stared at them, confused. How did the jokers remain in the pack? They weren’t part of the game...  

“Excuse me, you dealt me two jo-” when you looked up, the dealer had vanished.  

In fact, the entire Great Hall had been plunged into a cloak of darkness. Everything was gone; just a vast expanse of black and dead silence as far at the eye could see. With no light, you had no idea how you were able to see so plainly the blackjack table you were sat at, let alone the cards as if an overhead light were beaming down on you.  

You heard a chuckled from Cardinal Copia beside you, except... when you looked, it wasn’t Cardinal Copia at all.  

“I couldn’t resist, my dear,” the voice laughed, “a little joke of mine, hm?” 

The voice was smooth, like the darkest of Belgian chocolate melting on your tongue beside a fireplace in Winter. The depth of the timbre rivalled the deepest parts of the ocean, and yet was as calm as a serene lake in the height of Summer. 

The man in the Cardinal’s spot was somewhat older, you would have guessed in his early 60’s by the silver of his long hair tied in a sleek pony tail at the nape of his neck and the beard perfectly groomed on his face. But his form was well kept; fit and healthy with a natural looking bulk to him behind the lapels of his black velvet suit. He was strikingly handsome, a silver fox, no doubt.  

He reached over to your cards and tucked them into the inside pocket of his suit, sending a wink your way as you gawped at him.  

“A-are... are you...?” you stuttered, unsure of what you were witnessing but in your mind there was only one explanation.  

“Lucifer, my child. A pleasure to meet you,” he bowed his head, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your heartbeat raced inside you, thrumming in your ears like a hummingbird. “Ghoul!" he called out.  

A Ghoul stepped up to the dealer’s position from the shadows, his mask glinting on the light that didn’t exist. He began to deal more cards, resuming the game of blackjack.  

“B-but... I never finished the ritual,” you stumbled, all formalities you thought you would have in this moment lost completely in your attempt to string together what on earth was happening. Lucifer just laughed at you, flipping his cards over and playing against the dealer. Your cards remained untouched.  

“Is that so? Well, I haven’t been wrong, yet...” he teased.  

“Then how-?” 

“My dear, the only sin you think you didn’t perform was ‘pride’, but I’m here to tell you that you did, with quite some flair... All those tears and confessions of love. It was quite touching, I must say.” 

You cast your mind back to your afternoon with Terzo, when you’d confessed your love for each other and had the most intimate, emotional sex of your life. And you’d told him you were proud of him... 

“Yes, that. But Terzo had told you at the beginning that if you were to bestow the sin upon someone else whilst still being involved in the act of carnal lust itself, then that also merits a performance of sin, did he not?” You nodded dumbly, following along, “yes, well, you are Terzo’s ‘pride and joy’, I recall him saying? You had him thinking, for a moment, that he was proud to be your papa, and proud to be yours, my child. That’s enough for me!” he explained, “Ah-ha! Twenty one, Ghoul. Pay up.” 

The Ghoul handed Lucifer some chips, taking his cards from him and starting a fresh round. Yours still remained untouched and face down on the table. Lucifer nodded towards them, encouraging you to play, and so you flipped the first as per the rules, and joined him in a round together.  

“So please, child; you performed this ritual to talk to me. Speak freely, I’ll offer what assistance I can,” he promised. He leaned on the edge of the table by his forearms, ready to listen to you as the game continued. 

“Well, I... I was lost, Your Eminence. I wasn’t sure where my path was headed. I didn’t think I had done enough for you. You speak to my siblings, but never me and I supposed I wanted to ask... what are they doing that I’m not?” 

Lucifer laughed at you; a hearty, genuine laugh.  

“Oh, my child... You want to know what they’re doing instead of you?” he asked, grinning wildly before leaning towards you and lowering his voice, “they’re lying.” Your eyes were wide and brows furrowed in confusion. “Yes, I promise you. They’re lying!” he sat back up straight, “hit me,” he spoke to the Ghoul, who dumped another card to the table. 

“But...” 

“It’s a bragging thing, they each want people to know how important they are, or how hard they worship. I can assure you, the only people in your Ministry I have ever spoke to directly is each Papa during his ascension. I don’t have the time to talk to every person who worships me. Those siblings are liars, it’s simply a contest of ‘daddy loves me more’,” he laughed.  

You felt silly, like you’d been fooled by those around you. Your head sagged in defeat; and you’d based the majority of your wavering faith on that.  

“But you did need direction, dear, I'll give you that. You felt stagnant, yes? Without purpose? Each and every day the same, day after day after day....” he gestured his hands in circles, his tone over-exaggerated to mock-droning in a boring monotonous routine. He pointed again at your cards, telling you to flip them and play. You did so, hitting 19 on your first two. 

“Ooh, will you risk it?” he asked, shimmying his shoulders and biting his lip in a playful challenge. “Or do you play it safe, as you have been for years?” 

His euphemism wasn’t lost on you, and so you decided to risk it. 

“Hit me...” The Ghoul dealt you another card, a two of hearts. How fitting.  

“Aha! See, a little risk pays off,” he winked as the Ghoul handed you some chips and took the discarded cards back, shuffling them again while Lucifer continued. “Do you want to know your purpose, my child? I mean... that’s why we are here, is it not?” 

“I-if it’s not too much trouble, Your Eminence,” you say sheepishly, feeling now like you had bothered him over a silly little belief that you weren’t as good as your lying siblings. It all felt very high school, now... 

“How sweet of you... No trouble at all, my dear. Ghoul, deal us in.” The Ghoul did as asked, placing four cards face down in front of you and Lucifer together. Lucifer waved his hand over the four of them, and moved to pick up the first.  

When he flipped it, the card showed none of the suits you knew in a standard deck of cards. Instead, it had a picture of the typical depictions of the Devil. A beast, half-man, half-goat sat atop a podium. A nude man and women stood either side, chained by the neck to the podium however the chains looked loose, as if they could simply remove them and run free but chose to stay chained to the block, imposing limitations on themselves.  

This was a tarot card; traditionally drawn. Your first card, was The Devil.  

“Oh look, it’s me!” Lucifer smiled, “Hello.” 

You stared between him and the card for a moment, astonished.  

“Usually, this card means you need to re-evaluate your connection to things or people. I believe you’re doing that already, yes? What is keeping you chained up? What is holding you back? I would say, my child, that was... you. Would you agree?” he explained, and yes, you did agree.  

“Yes...” 

“Good. That’s why I'm here; you wish to free yourself. But look, these people in the card... they look like they could easily free themselves, no?” You nodded along. “Exactly. So, this is you, on your path to freeing yourself. Wonderful. Next please, Ghoul.” 

The Ghoul flipped the second card for you both, revealing a picture of a man and woman, holding hands and completely nude, with an angel above them with dark robes and wings. The Lovers. 

“This one is fairly obvious, yes? Yourself and Terzo have confessed your love for one another. Excellent. Brava. I’m glad you could come to that conclusion yourselves; it’s certainly made this easier on me,” he laughed. “This typically symbolises a union, wanting to accomplish something together with another too. I think in both cases, we can say that this card works well for you both.” 

Lucifer gestured to the next card for the Ghoul to flip. The picture revealed a man dressed like a court jester stood at the edge of a cliff. He looked as if he was about to step off the edge and plummet, but he stared dreamily at the sky as if the heavens would save him. The Fool. 

Lucifer laughed at this one, slapping his hand on the table as he roared. You couldn’t help but smile at his laughter; a beautiful sound to hear from the Dark One. But ‘The Fool’ unnerved you. Who exactly was the fool? Were you, too, about to fall from the edge of a cliff, blissfully unaware of the danger beneath you? 

“Oh, forgive me, my child. This fool does make me laugh. Look at him; as if the heavens would save him...” he sighed, regaining composure. “No, no... Do you see the rose in his hand? A symbol of love. This man is a fool indeed, or at least he has been. I think yourself and your dear Terzo have been quite foolish, have you not?” 

You had; you could admit that. Both of you had acted in a ridiculous way and hurt each other in the process.  

“Fear not, that foolishness is over. No, this card is symbolising a new path. Both yourself and Terzo are ready to embark on a new journey now. You, my dear, are specifically to start on a new spiritual path. Your faith in me was wavering – and believe me, I take no offence. But now... what do you believe in, my dear? Tell me.” He encouraged you to speak, and only now did you realise how quiet you had been throughout all of this. 

“W-well... My Lord, I've read all about the demi-gods, would-be gods, papas of old, demons, devils... I searched for the longest time for information, and I tried so desperately to get closer to you, and I feel as though I have,” you explained.  

“Closer than most,” he winked, alluding to you being one of the few who’d ever had the chance to speak directly with him. 

“Yes, exactly. And I thank you for coming to me, Your Eminence. Truly, but... But if there's one thing, just one thing out of that entire pantheon... I believe in him." 

The Devil’s smile widened into a bright grin as he leaned on his arms.  

“Oh, I am a romantic...” he teased, “and yes, I see that in you. Your belief in him is stronger than anyone’s and whilst I do stand before you as you so wished I would, I know you would defy me entirely if only he asked you to.” He quirked his eyebrow, taunting you to disagree with him, but you couldn’t and you knew it. You looked down in shame.  

“Again, I take no offence. I couldn’t possibly, when the two of you are so destined for each other. Even I cannot stand in the way of your bond. But don’t you worry – he won’t ever ask you to defy me. Now, would you like to see the final card, child? You know you’re on a new path, but would you like to know what exactly that path entails?” he asked, reaching a hand to sit on your shoulder, his palm burning hot against your skin.  

Part of you wanted to know. Part of you didn’t. There was a fear, a simmering dread inside you that worried it was something you couldn’t fulfill, but then... if Lucifer himself is setting you on this path, then even he had every belief this was the correct one for you. And so, you nodded, ready for whatever the final card was.  

The Ghoul flipped it at Lucifer’s command. The card showed a woman, sat and holding a book in dark robes. Either side of her sat two pillars; one black, one white. A moon sat at her feet, and atop her head was a headdress of the three lunar phases. The High Priestess. 

You looked at the card, confused. You had expected something a bit more telling, but from the picture alone, you could gather nothing. Lucifer saw your confusion, and took your hand in his, holding it between both and forcing your attention to him.  

“I’ll explain, don’t panic,” he smiled comfortingly. “The High Priestess... she hints at something hidden preparing to come forward. She advises you to have awareness around yourself, and your spirituality. Of the things around you. You’re ready to accept the important next stage of your life.” 

You took a deep breath; all you could think of was that next stage with Terzo.  

“There are things that would give away to someone in the know just exactly the bond you have with him...” Lucifer began, as if reading your mind again, “Did you notice when you first performed lust that he took his gloves off, my dear?”  

You thought back, picturing when he’d made you bite the fingertip of it and drag it from his hand. You blushed at the memory, knowing the Dark One had seen everything. But now was not the time to get shy.  

“He did that each time with you, did he not?” You nodded. “He isn’t supposed to. I warned him during his ascension, the Papas wear gloves for a reason. His contact, his touch, was saved for the only person it was ever meant for now that he was a Papa. And without even thinking about it, he took them off for you.” 

The confusion in your mind swam; it had seemed so insignificant but when you thought back to catching him with Christine, as painful as that memory was, he had still been wearing his gloves then... 

“Not to mention the removal of his paints, your second night together. A very similar meaning there; barefaced Papas are saved for those who truly see them. Do you comprehend what I’m saying, my child?” he asked, stroking his thumb over your cheek.  

Truthfully, you didn’t. You were trying to piece it all together, searching the texts you’d studied as a younger sibling and trying to find what any of that meant other than the fact that there was a connection of some sort; a bond. 

“The High Priestess is a figurehead of feminine power, my dear. The lunar cycles on her headdress represent the three stages of womanhood: maiden, mother, crone. She has appeared here, because she is showing you your feminine power. One that is hidden inside you, preparing to come forward.  

“You are his; destined to be. Child, you are his Prime Mover.” 

Your heart thudded in your chest. That term... you’d heard it before, many years ago. It was a destiny, a divine path for a woman meant to be at the side of a Papa. Not every Papa had one, and it was incredibly rare to find her at all. There hadn’t been another Prime Mover since the early 1800’s. The pull you felt towards Terzo, the almost instant connection and ferocity of your love after just a couple of weeks made sense now. 

Prime Mover. 

You were the feminine figurehead of the Satanic Church; Papa’s other half, his Queen, for lack of a better term. Your rightful place was at his side, leading in the name of Lilith herself. The power that was bestowed upon Terzo during his ascension was destined for you too.  

“I-I... can’t be. I’m not cut out for that... responsibility,” you protested, shaking your head and removing your hand from Lucifer’s as the shock overcame you.  

“I chose you for a reason, my dear. You are the one, because I know that you are cut out for this. Your devotion for the last sixteen years proves that to me, but I knew it the moment you were born. This is your birthright,” he explained, his expression more serious than you’d seen it before. “It’s coming, my dear, and you can’t stop it.”  

Lucifer stood, towering above you now on his feet and stepped closer towards you.  

“They’ll know as soon as they see you, my dear. The Emeritus line bears the mark of the Divine,” he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours gently in a kiss that felt otherworldly and yet, not in the slightest bit romantic. You closed your eyes, your head feeling light and airy as you melted into his kiss. And then, he stepped away, your eyes fluttering open. 

“...And now, so do you.” 

You looked at him in confusion, seeing him smirk at you and run his fingers down the left side of your face. He looked... proud? Admiring you for a moment too long.  

“You need to go back, my child. You need to show them. I’ve enjoyed our little talk, but for the time being... you must go.” 

You panicked, not ready to go back yet; what if you had questions? What if you needed His guidance again? You had no idea what to do from here. If anything, you were more confused now than when you entered this strange little void.  

“W-wait, please... What if I have questions? I don’t know how to do this, Lucifer, please!” you begged, reaching for him. He held your hands and steadied you, his touch instantly soothing.  

“Don’t panic. I will see you again soon. We’ll talk again, at your ascension. For now, just show them.” 

“Show them what?” you cried, tears prickling at your eyes. Lucifer just smiled, stepping back from you and raising his hand. Before you knew it, his fingers snapped, and you were plunged into a black void.  

Lucifer vanished, and the stool you sat on as well as his and the blackjack table disappeared and you fell, endless falling through nothing. Your limbs flailed and ballgown billowed as you fell into nothing, the weightless feeling terrifying you the longer you dropped.  

Until finally, you hit the floor and your eyes shot open.  

With a start, you awoke, desperately throwing your hands out to your sides for purchase. You gripped onto silk, looking beneath where you lay to see familiar purple and black bedding, and feeling a soft mattress under you.  

“A-amore?” you heard his concerned voice from the corner of his room. He sat beneath the only light he had on; a small lamp stood next to him. You remained shrouded in mostly darkness, confusion sweeping over you until you settled on him. 

“Terzo... what...?” you began, unable to finish the sentence as you looked around the room; a small part of you wished you’d seen Him. You weren’t done with your questions yet... 

“You collapsed at the blackjack table, amore. But... no one could find anything the matter in the infirmary. You’ve been out for hours...” he stood, worried and careful, sitting at the edge of the bed and reaching for your hand that still gripped his sheets as if you would start falling again at any moment. You looked up at him then, finally seeing the worry lines etched into his paint. But when Terzo saw you, his expression changed from one of deep concern, to one of immense shock.  

His jaw dropped, eyes widened and brow creasing. The hand on top of yours smacked over his mouth and he stood quickly, backing up until his back hit the full-length mirror in the far corner of the room. 

“T-Terzo...? What’s happening?” you asked, fear spearing you through the chest.  

“Y-you... your...” he couldn’t speak, his voice trembling as if in fear. He pointed instead, his gloved hand raising to your face.  

The fear propelled you, forcing you up and off of Terzo’s bed to stomp towards him, fumbling with the skirt of your ballgown only to try to comfort him, calm him down but he moved out of your way just a step to the side and you were left staring at your own reflection.  

Even in the dim light, you saw it. You couldn’t miss it. 

Your left eye had turned almost completely white, save for the pupil, blown out in the centre. Lucifer had bestowed the Divine mark on you.  

‘Show them’ he had said. He meant... show them your mark. 

“T-Terzo... He did this. He came to me,” you panicked, reaching for him. He let you grab his arms, holding you too when he snapped himself from his initial shock. “He showed me m-my path... He told me that I’m-” 

“Prime Mover...” Terzo finished your sentence. He knew what that mark meant for you. “You’re my... Prime Mover?” He asked, the words sounding more like a desperate gasp. You just nodded at him, your hands squeezing at his arms and tears spilling over your cheeks. You found yourself smiling – grinning, even.  

“I’m yours; I was always supposed to be,” you laughed in shock, biting your lip to try and contain the wild grin as more tears fell.  

Terzo couldn’t take his eyes off you, staring at the mark that held so much meaning that it was overwhelming. He brought his hands to your cheeks, holding you as you gripped his wrists.  

“Supposed to be mine,” he breathed, his lips curling up at the edges as elation started to settle in, his panic and shock wearing off. “You’re... you’re mine, principessa?” You nodded frantically. 

And Terzo couldn’t help but laugh. Out of relief, out of disbelief... he couldn’t tell but he knew he was overjoyed. Words failed him, and instead, he pulled you to smash his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. He had hoped after today you would remain together, of course, but this? He could never have predicted this, never seen this coming.  

But now, everything made sense. 

“Tell me, amore. Tell me everything He said to you, what did He show you?” He asked, pulling you back to the edge of his bed to sit and explain your vision. You told him about the blackjack, about how you’d completed the ritual, about the tarot cards. You told him each one’s significance in your past, present and future, and he gleamed at you the whole time, in awe. 

“He told me to ‘show them’... I think He meant this?” You said, pointing at your eye. “I didn’t know... Not until I just saw. This is the Divine mark, isn’t it?” Terzo nodded, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone underneath it. 

“And it looks so beautiful on you, amore,” he said dreamily, “my Prime Mover...” The happiness in his expression as he took in this news was evident, and it only made your heart swell. 

“He said something about an ascension?” you mentioned, confused and hoping Terzo may have an answer for you.  

“Sí, you will have one... We will need to prepare for it, of course, but that makes you... my equal. At least, in the Ministry hierarchy. I’m to believe that you are, in fact, worlds above me... But yes. You will ascend to Prime Mover with me, principessa.”  

You couldn’t describe how you felt in that moment; an intoxicating cocktail of happiness, love, pride, and relief. Not only had you completed your ritual, but you had found your purpose. You had found your place in the ministry, in your life, in the world... and it was by Terzo’s side.  

“We’ll share everything, cara mio. My role extends to you, and I can think of no one better to don my colours, to help lead this congregation, to help spread the word of our teachings and grow this church. Lucifer knew what he was doing when he picked you, that’s for certain,” he beamed, leaning into you to kiss you once again. He was so in awe of you, so in love with you, it was almost sickening.  

“Lucky for me, purple is my colour,” you smirked as you sat back, hinting at Terzo’s papal colours and adoring the idea of sharing that with him, of matching with him. 

“Oh, I remember. Vividly,” he smirked, his mind wandering back to that first time you had slept together. “Come, amore. People were worried for you, we thought you were sick. And Lucifer has asked you to show them your beautiful new mark, no?” he stood, pulling you to your feet with him and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I can’t wait to show Sister Imperator this...” 

“Perhaps we show her first, hm?” you smiled wickedly, pulling him closer to you by the stole of his robes. 

“Oh, principessa... It might just send her into a coma. Or worse...” he teased, his lips hovering close to yours.  

“Here’s hoping...” you laughed evilly. Terzo threw his head back in a deep laugh, one that vibrated his whole chest. 

“Oh, you are so my Prime Mover...” Terzo snickered, leaning in to engulf you in another breathtaking kiss; a final private moment together before he proudly paraded you back through the halls to anyone and everyone who had ever doubted him. 

His pride and joy. 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end of this fic. I'm so grateful, and truly I can't believe the amount of love on this. I'm in total awe, and I hope you'll join me for the next one...

Happy Halloween, Ghesties! 🎃

Prev: Day 6 - Greed

A huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading, and @adinferix for fine tuning the Italian translations! 🖤

Tag list:

@call-me-little-sunshine84 @thew0man @zombiesnips-blog @ghuleh-recs @popiaswife @anamelessfool @enchantedbunny @haelithra @aslutforgreyhair @togetherasone @lilylovesdew @copias-sewer-rat @copiaspet622 @deetz-ghuleh @loudwombatmugkid @nimbusghoul @portaltothevoid @angellayercake @sodoswitchimage @siouxbauhaus @lydz1977-blog @bitchywitchygardener @sacrificialsake @the-did-i-ask @ghostfangirlsweden @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @copiasprincipessa @gothicwonderlust @ladymer @ghulehunknown @onlyhereforghost @solluna00 @nijiru

[hard-core-super-star]

bleeding me dry like a goddamn vampire [K.Bishop]

pairing: vampire!kate bishop x reader

summary: a failed mugging leads to you discovering kate's biggest secret...and her finding out yours.

warnings: yes, i still suck at summaries, shhh SMUT -> minors, you know the drill, walk away now [porn with almost too much plot; blood and fangs and all the stereotypically hot vampire things; so many neck kisses it should be illegal; fingering {R receiving}; kate being a tease and owning it; praise + degradation + two seconds of humiliation]

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: do i have like ten requests sitting in my inbox rn? yes. was this idea going to leave me alone if i didn't write it? no. i've been trying to finish this fic since JULY, GUYS, AND I NEED IT OUT OF MY DRAFTS AND INTO THE WORLD! it wasn't supposed to be smut, but i couldn't help it. i don't think i'll have time to do any real kinktober-type fics so enjoy this little treat instead. ALSO, a lot of the vampire dynamics/lore in this fic was inspired by first kill so go check it out if you haven't seen it.

part two | part three | part four

* * * * * * *

You were working yet another late night at Bishop Security. A normal occurrence considering your boss’s distaste for coming into the office when the sun is high in the sky. She almost never comes in before 3 PM and almost always stays in until way past midnight.

Pretty much everyone who works for her hates her unusual schedule, claiming she’s way too new to her position to be slacking off so much. Everyone seems to share that view…everyone except you since being her secretary means you get to share her schedule.

Which conveniently means you get to sleep in most days.

She’s never offered an explanation, not that you’ve ever tried asking her about it, but the rumor swirling around is that she’s too busy partying and sleeping around to bother showing up at the office at a regular time.

You don’t doubt the validity of that rumor but you’re also sure it’s not the whole story. There have been times when Kate has forced you to leave at 2 AM while she’s stayed behind to write up a report or prepare for her next meeting.

She’s young and reckless and way too rich for her own good but she’s not completely irresponsible or arrogant. Unfortunately, the media loves making up stories about the ‘Tony Stark of Bishop Security’ almost as much as your co-workers love gossiping.

Maybe if those rumors held more truth to them you wouldn’t be where you are right now: speed-walking out of the building and trying to make it to your car before something bad happens. You’re aware of the irony of working at a security company yet being terrified of walking through the parking lot. But hey! It’s New York City, your fears are more than valid.

You’re too busy arguing with yourself about said irony to notice the person sneaking up behind you until they forcefully grab your shoulder and slam you into the nearest concrete wall. The force of the push forces all the air out of your lungs, leaving you unprepared for the right hook your attacker throws your way.

The ringing in your ears is the only thing you can focus on for a few seconds. You see their mouth moving and you’re barely able to make out the name ‘Kate Bishop’ before they raise their fist again. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the punch to land.

Except it never does.

Your eyes snap open right as your shoulders are grabbed again but this time, the person standing in front of you is none other than Kate Bishop herself. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You’re pretty sure the pounding in your chest has more to do with the proximity between the two of you than your leftover fear after being attacked. “I just got pushed around a little.”

“More like punched around,” she says with a small chuckle.

“That’s not funny.” Despite your words, a noticeable smile spreads along your face.

Kate’s eyes trail down your face and hone in on your lips. The sudden attention makes you subconsciously lick your lips and a slightly metallic taste fills your mouth. You assume the look on her face is due to her concern over you until you notice the way her pupils dilate as blood gathers on your bottom lip.

“Um…Kate? Are you okay?”

Your voice seems to bring her back to the present moment. She leans back a little before she speaks again. “Yeah, we should probably get out of here.”

You hear her words but your gaze is glued right to her mouth and the two protruding teeth you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen before. For a second, you think you’re imagining things but it’s practically impossible to deny what you’re seeing with the way the light bounces off of her teeth.

You had always thought Kate was hiding something. Something that ran deeper than her long list of ex-lovers or weird schedules. But the place your mind is going to right now seems far too illogical. Superheroes, aliens, even the damn multiverse, everything else seemed much more plausible than vampires.

And yet, the proof is staring right at you with caring blue eyes and a nervous smile that tells you you’re both thinking about the same thing.

“I can explain,” she assures you before extending her hand out for you to take. “But you’re gonna have to come with me.”

“You’re insane.”

She shrugs, not at all phased by your comment. “Maybe a little…I promise I won’t bite.”

You don’t know whether to laugh at her joke or slap that look off her face for having the audacity to make it in the first place. Ultimately, your trust in her wins out and you reach for her hand. It’s just one small choice but you have a feeling it’s going to change everything between the two of you.

She starts to lead you toward her car, ignoring your protests like a real gentleman. You weren’t going to act like you had never imagined Kate taking you back to her apartment but you had imagined it under different, significantly sexier, circumstances.

You get into her car and ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. You tell yourself it’s only due to the leftover adrenaline from being attacked but you know it has more to do with the overwhelming smell of the archer than anything else.

A few minutes of silence pass before you work up the courage to start a conversation…even though you know you’re not going to like any of the answers you’re searching for. “What do you think that guy wanted?”

“What guy?” Kate’s eyes remain glued to the road ahead, not giving you a chance to decipher the look on her face. “The one who tried to mug you?”

“He wasn’t trying to mug me, he was looking for you.”

You notice the way her jaw clenches even with the darkness that envelops the car. “Looking for me? What are you talking about?”

“Kate, don’t play stupid with me. You can’t possibly think he broke into a highly secured parking lot just to mug the first random secretary he saw.” Her silence is enough of an answer. “So, who is he and what does he want with you?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’ll only put you in more danger.”

“More danger than that?”

“Yes.” You’re sure you’ve never heard her sound so serious before. “Believe it or not, you finding out about this wasn’t in my plans.”

You’re going to regret asking but your mind has been whirling with thoughts and ideas since you first caught sight of those fangs. “What exactly is…’this’?”

“Exactly what you think it is.”

Her tone leaves no room for questions or arguments. Despite that, the only thing that fills your mind is questions. And answers you don’t want to think about.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says, effectively cutting off your flurry of thoughts.

“Why?”

The hunger on her face when she turns to look at you tells you all you need to know. You should probably be scared considering the power she holds over you right now. Not only is she the one driving, she could probably crush you with her bare hands…or sink her sharp fangs into your neck and drain you dry.

Fear is certainly not what you feel at that thought though.

The corners of her mouth quirk up into the cockiest smirk you’ve ever seen. “You’re into some weird stuff, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“What else are you?” The way you shift in your seat doesn’t go unnoticed by the brunette. “Some kind of mind reader?”

“No need,” she replies. “Your scent gave you away.”

Your face heats up at her words but you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or something else. Thankfully, she pulls up to her apartment complex before you can dig yourself into a deeper hole.

A weirdly comfortable silence surrounds you as you make your way out of the car and into her apartment. You’ve known Kate for a while and you’ve always felt safe around her, something that not even those sharp fangs can take away. Especially when she places a strong hand on the small of your back while she leads the way.

For someone who’s richer than most people will ever be in their whole life, her apartment isn’t extremely lavish or full of ridiculous decorations. It could even be considered minimalistic if it weren’t for the numerous bows scattered all over the living room, the chewed-up boots near Lucky’s dog bed, and the overwhelming amount of clothes piled up on the couch.

“Sorry, I don’t usually have people over,” she says almost as if reading your mind. “I’m not usually so messy.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie, Katherine.”

She makes a disgusted face at the sound of her full name, her expression somewhere between adorable and amusing. “You didn’t have to say it like that.”

You’re about to make another stupid comment when your brain short circuits at the sight of Kate unbuttoning her shirt, the black tank top she always wears underneath straining against her torso and all the muscles you know are hiding out of sight.

The corners of her mouth quirk up just enough to give away the fact that she knows exactly what she’s doing and she’s one-hundred percent doing it on purpose. You’re just grateful she doesn’t verbalize how obvious your breathlessness is.

You attempt to look away from her but she moves her arm just enough for you to notice the dark stain on her shirt. It takes you a second to figure out what it’s from and you mentally curse the brunette for not telling you she had gotten hurt.

“Kate,” you call out once you find your voice again. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She looks down at her arm, clearly pretending she hadn’t noticed the wound yet, before shrugging her shoulders. “Oh, yeah, it’s fine.”

“Fine? Why didn’t you tell me you got stabbed?”

“It’s just a scratch.”

She tries to wave you off but it’s too late. You’re already gripping her shoulder and pushing her down onto her overpriced leather couch. “You’re an idiot. Sit down.”

She grumbles something about being able to take care of herself but you don’t listen to a word she says. Instead, your hands reach out for the first-aid kit she keeps on her coffee table.

“Take your shirt off.”

“y/n, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask, baby.” Her voice carries that cocky tone that makes you want to punch her and kiss her at the same time.

“Shut up,” you mutter while attempting to look unaffected.

There are too many thoughts swirling around your brain and most of them have to do with Kate doing some very inappropriate things to you, with or without her fangs. The truth is, you can act like you’re only attracted to the danger that could potentially come your way now that you know her secret but she’s always been far too good at scrambling your brain with a few well-placed words.

She finally does what you ask, pushing her shirt off her shoulders and revealing inches of skin you’ve never seen from such close proximity before. You’re able to pass off your clear ogling as concern as you step closer to examine the small knife wound.

It’s only a few inches long but deep enough to have caused her to bleed the entire way here. You wordlessly open up the first-aid kit and start disinfecting the area, doing your best to ignore the soft groans that leave the brunette’s lips.

“Is all of that stuff true?” You ask a few minutes later, the smallest hint of a joke in your tone.

The corners of Kate’s mouth quirk up into a small smirk that tells you she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “What stuff?”

“You know, the stuff about silver and garlic and burning in the sun?”

“Yes to the silver, no to the garlic, and kind of to the sun. I sunburn really easily but I don’t think that’s due to the vampire thing.”

You laugh at her response, the sound nervous yet warm. It’s still too much to wrap your head around but at least she’s not beating around the bush anymore. “How long have you…?”

“All my life,” she replies with an almost inaudible wince as you start to bandage her up. “It’s a long, complicated story but my family and I are descendants of the first vampires to ever exist. We’re legacies.”

“Sounds fancy.”

She chuckles while she shakes her head. “It’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure there are worse things to be.” 

You finish securing the bandage in place right as the words leave your lips. Now that there’s nothing to distract you, you realize how close together the two of you actually are. You’re standing right between Kate’s open legs, the heat of her body warming you up in ways that leave your legs shaky. 

“y/n, I…I’ve done a lot of things that-”

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t need to know any of that to know I trust you.”

She looks up at you, her usually bright eyes looking soft and vulnerable for the first time in a long time. It’s almost startling how quickly she changes from the cocky and overconfident Kate Bishop everyone knows to this gentle and hesitant version of herself.

A version of her you can't help but love.

Your feelings must be more than obvious by this point but she doesn't push. You've never known her to be slow or patient or particularly sensitive to what other people want and yet she waits.

The seconds feel like hours until her eyes finally drift down to your lips…and the small amount of blood that still coats them.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The few brain cells that aren’t completely focused on the brunette in front of you tell you to move away from her before you cross a line you won’t be able to come back from. A line that is unprofessional and stupid and full of problems and rumors that will probably ruin your life. 

Unfortunately, crossing that line is the only thing that’s been on your mind since the day you started working for her. And the urge to find out what her lips taste like and what her hands feel like on your skin has only gotten stronger since.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotions you don’t want to think about.

You lean in closer, your breath fanning across her lips while you grab her hands and place them on your waist. “Please don’t stop.”

“y/n…” Her voice comes out somewhere between a whine and a groan. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s unclear whether she’s talking about her vampire side or her serial heartbreaker side but you ignore her warning all the same. You’ve wanted her far too long to let something that seems so irrelevant right now stop you.

“I’ll be fine,” you assure her, letting her pull you close until you're finally sitting on her lap. “I only need you right now.”

The weight and warmth of your body on her lap causes her to take in a sharp breath, one that leaves no doubts about what it is she wants to do with you. “Fuck…”

She leans forward, completely ignoring your lips and instead moving her face toward your neck, her nose brushing against your skin and making your heart skip multiple beats. Her grip on your hips tightens and you swear you can feel the smirk that adorns her features right before she attaches herself to your neck.

Your head tilts back to allow her free access while you do your best not to grind against her. You fail miserably the second her fangs start to nip your skin. She doesn’t bite down hard enough to puncture your neck but the feeling has you desperately bucking your hips in search of relief anyway.

 “Kate-” You gasp out, your hands holding onto her arms for support.

She chuckles while one of her hands starts its journey down inside your jeans. “I know, sweetheart. I can smell how much you need me…how desperate you are to feel me inside you. I bet you can’t think about anything else right now.”

You’re not sure when it happened but her hesitation has clearly gone out the window by now. All that remains is the current of need that flows eagerly between your two bodies.

You let out a soft moan as her fingers dip inside your soaked underwear and find the mess she’s turned you into with a few teasing words and restrained kisses. “Please.”

“Such a good girl,” she murmurs. “How can I deny someone as sweet as you?”

Despite her words, she still doesn’t give you what you truly want. Instead, she presses two fingers against your throbbing clit and starts drawing small circles, her movements slow and calculated. Your hips move in response and you suddenly realize what it is she wants from you. 

There’s no time for whines or embarrassment, no time for anything except desire and desperation. 

You grind down on her fingers and let out a string of incoherent noises that leave Kate groaning into your neck. “Just like that, baby. Show me how much you want me.”

You do just as she asks, rolling your hips and relishing the non-stop kisses she lands on your overheated skin. Her teeth keep teasing you and it’s all you can do not to beg her to bite you hard enough to make you dizzy.

She told you earlier she wasn’t a mind reader but you’re about to call bullshit on that considering the way she picks up on all your dirty thoughts without a single word from you.

“I could drain you so easily right now. You’re so desperate you’d just let me, wouldn’t you? You’d let me sink my teeth into you so long as I kept fucking you, wouldn’t you?”

Your sounds of ecstasy should be more than an answer but they’re not enough for the brunette. She picks up the pace of her fingers and turns your brain to mush long enough for you to let out the truth.

“Yes! God, yes. Please- Don’t stop.”

“Good girl.”

She plants a few more kisses against your neck before she finally bites you. Hard. Hard enough to make your eyes squeeze shut and your legs tense up. The pain borders on unbearable until she starts sucking.

Your mind spins endlessly as all the different sensations overwhelm you. You’re not sure what to focus on but your body makes the decision for you. 

You gasp, although the sound comes out more like a whine than anything else, and Kate takes the hint. She plunges her fingers inside of you right as you fall over the edge, the tips curled just enough to hit that one spot that has you seeing stars that weirdly resemble the color of her eyes.

You’re shaking and panting and dizzier than ever but it all feels far too good. The pleasure and the pain roll together to give you the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had and you suddenly wonder how you lived so long without knowing such ecstasy existed.

Kate detaches herself from your neck right as the ringing in your ears fades. You open your eyes to the sight of her, pupils blown wide and her lips stained red. You subconsciously clench around her fingers and she smiles.

“I was right,” she says, her voice low and far too controlled for your liking. “You taste as delicious as you smell.”

You don’t waste another second attaching your lips to hers and drowning out all her cocky statements.

You end up spending the rest of the night getting to know Kate in ways you’d only ever dreamed about before, completely oblivious to the way word already starts spreading about your intimate encounter outside the walls of her apartment.

[arceus-insanity]

A Moral Scapegoat for who?

All For One is a shit character, he is presented as a massive threat, but we never see him get a win, similar to the dissonance between the All Might we see and the context in universe.

And in the end, he becomes a moral scapegoat... for the heroes.

What is a moral scapegoat?

A moral scapegoat is (usually) a character used to excuse the actions of other characters or a system. Character A may have done XYZ but Character B was the one manipulating them and/ or is so much worse, so we can excuse A's actions. Or helping defeat B acts as pence for their past actions. Etc. And to a degree it makes sense, getting people to believe a character has changed and should now be considered good both by the characters and the audience is hard. So having some bigger bad to blame takes the pressure off the desired character(s).

While the term is typically only brought up negatively, like the use of Mary&Gary Sues, there are good ones. Commander Zhao in Avatar of the Last Airbender is an early moral scapegoat, used to say yeah Prince Zuko may suck, but there are a lot worse out there. My Little Pony Friendship is Magic has a moral scapegoat, right in the pilot, Nightmare Moon for Princess Luna, sure Nightmare came from Luna but it is presented as a curse, something that was cured, fixed. The Hobbit uses Dragon Sickness as a way to both corrupt and excuse King Thorin's actions when they have retaken the mountain; he is not in his right mind, and shouldn't be considered solely responsible for his actions

In certain ways, Pink Diamond (due to the audience learning her arc in reverse, when it has such an effect on the plot of Steven Universe) is a scapegoat for the remaining Diamonds, even though it makes a lot less sense for her to be the scapegoat when considering the actual sequence of events in universe. And while most people don't think Pink/Rose's actions excuse the Diamonds (especially White), she does work with Spinel. Another rocky moral scapegoat is Horad Prime from She-ra & The Princesses of Power, he is the big bad of the show and is meant to be a scapegoat primarily for Horadak who was the previous big bad, and mildly a scapegoat for Catra. The big problems with his sacrificial slaughter is that there isn't enough time to really settle in that this is the true big bad, and both Horadak and Catra's issues were both way more on screen and show up well before we ever hear of Hoard Prime, with them operating separately.

And All For One is a worst example of all of them (that I mentioned)

For starters the more we saw of him the less ultimate intimidating evil he portrayed, nor did we get a satisfying he was actually pretty pathetic. Really trying to have your cake and eat it too. Looking back he's very cartoonishly evil, but lacks the presence, he's boring. I've seen many good portrayals of him in the fandom, but canon is just boring. His background of miscellaneous evil deeds, don't really go into how they were evil, just that Yoichi (& AFO) clearly believes them to be, both come across as very childish to me, seeing the world as black & white.

He lacks the moral complexity of complex villains (like Magneto), meant to be an ambitiously evil man, whose evil for the sack of being evil. But he lacks the presence found in Classic evil Disney characters like Jafar, Clayton, and Ursala. In a way he's like King Magnifico (from Wish, the only recent hated animated Disney movie, that I agree deserves to be shat on), trying to have both but failing to capture either

In the present, he has little involvement on screen, and once he's out of the picture, Shigaraki (& the League) really bloom as villains and characters. The story could have had a slow realization (for Shigaraki, the League and the audience) that he was holding the League back, and that meant either he was nowhere near as competent as he was portrayed, or he wasn't actually helping Shigaraki, setting up for the body suit plan

But my biggest issue is who he's the sacrificial goat for.

And who is he the scapegoat for? The fucking Heroes and their shit-ass society, including the H PSC crap.

The ending reveal that he was behind everything that happened to Tenko, from him being born, his name, the kids he chose to play with, the issues with his quirk, and only having him; fails. It doesn't work! Mainly because of what that scene ignored the walk, and the complicity of the family. It ignored that the family were directly ignoring that Tenko was being abused, trying to placate him after the fact. It ignores that Kotaro Shimura chose to follow his friends advice, over his wife too. It ignores that even though AFO would have killed anyone who tried to help Tenko, no one tried. It also doesn't make sense either, normal kids are shit actors, not to mention Tenko was the one to reach out to them, not the other way around. And with the sheer amount of heroes, and cops, and regular citizens, how was it literally no one tried to help him, it's not AFO.

What else does it ignore, oh yeah, Tenko isn't truly unique in having a tragic backstory. Sure he was planning on taking advantage of the Endeavor's awful legacy plan, but we never see that AFO has done anything before kidnapping Touya. It's implied that he helped stroked Heteromorphic discrimination for his own gain, but that doesn't change that Spinner had pesticides thrown in his face, by 'innocent' civilians, that Shoji was mutilated as a child, for saving a child, by 'innocent' civilians, that the Ordinary Lady was attacked and denied shelter in the middle of an active warzone, by 'innocent' civilians. Himiko's abuse was enabled and furthered by quirk counselling, we don't even get a he was secretly to blame all along for this one. The commission has assassins, ignore. The homeless have to resort to villainy to survive, ignore. Once someone is considered out they are abused by this society until they have to lash out, ignore. The big bad was taken down, so nothing has to be done about these systemic issues, cause the heroes say so

There's a pattern, he was only able to do this, because the society he was in was already doing it.

And AFO being a moral scapegoat could of worked.

IF the Hero Public Safety Commission was similarly a scapegoat.

To begin, AFO should have been the scapegoat for the League, and the villains as a whole. The heroes would instead have the HPSC as their scapegoat.

Hawks should not have been made president of the totally different PSC, not only is he a known murderer, he doesn't regret it, he has never criticized the Commission's (or any other hero's) actions. If he's not going to see the issues, and hypocrisy right in front of him, he shouldn't have any role at all in it, and a very small one if he does recognize them. Giving this to Hawks screams nothing is actually going to be fixed, any changes are going to be for the worse.

Going into the final Deku vs Shigaraki battle, as well as the dreamscape crap, I had hope in this series. I thought that Deku would finally be forced to have the long over reality check of the Villains are right, what are you going to do about it. So instead of hyper-focusing on one tiny moment that with any and I do mean any additional context would show that it's not just this tiny shit moment. Rather than murdering Tomura for not abandoning the League (the same reason Hawks murdered Twice), have Deku convince Tomura that they can make a better society. That Deku's peaceful(ish) method is what's better for the League we have seen he loves.

From there they could have come up with a deal where either (these are simplified) everyone is held accountable for their past actions (as in the villains, Endeavor, Hawks, the Commission, everyone responsible for the sky coffin, etc). Or the clock is restarted, and everyone is hence forth held to the same standard. The villains are around to make sure the actual issues to their problems are dealt with, hint; Himiko's problem wasn't lack of access to quirk counselling. Happy satisfying ending for everyone

[dresshistorynerd]

Ranking Men's Costumes in Renaissance Period Dramas - Part I: The Bad

Part II: The Good

I have a bone to pick with Renaissance costuming of male characters. Films and TV never seem to understand French hoods or the concept of tied up hair but the crimes committed with female characters costuming seem to pale in comparison with those committed with male characters costuming. It would be easy to find some atrocities that should be brought in front of the Hague from the bottom of the barrel shows like Da Vinci's Demons and Reign, both of which costuming is basically black leather jackets, pants and boots. If we're lucky, they have some vaguely Renaissance details imitating doublet or jerkin. But these shows make absolutely no effort, even the women's costumes are straight from modern fast fashion shelves (often literally). But I have noticed that even costuming that has some effort otherwise put behind it, still costumes male characters with the most boring costumes and minimal effort. The Tudors didn't have good costumes, but there's some effort towards historical immersion, even if quite lackluster, but the men's costumes are still so sloppy.

My theory is that they think men's Renaissance fashion was too goofy and embarrassing to fit their cool and sexy main male characters. Also men dressing up and taking care of their appearance? That's obviously homosexual behavior, and these hot men who the main female characters are fawning over are Manly and Heterosexual. So they don't dress up in fancy clothing or colour!

To give a fair change to the costuming, I will be selecting only shows and movies which have good costuming for the female characters. If they are not even trying, it feels kinda pointless to point that out. I have selected 10 period dramas. I haven't seen all of them so I'm not going to analyse the costuming any deeper than how good and well made they look and how well they evoke the historical setting. I don't demand historical accuracy, but I will be more harsh on that front if the women's costumes are succeeding in that. But one of the point of period dramas is to immerse into a historical setting, so if the costumes can't evoke that feeling, I think they have failed. Obviously this is not some objective ranking, but my opinions. This is in two parts (because of Tumblr image limits), so I'll start with the five worst costumes in order of best to worst.

5. Ever After (1998)

Ever After is supposedly set in Renaissance France, but the costuming resembles late 15th century and early 16th century Italy much more. It's not very historical, and clearly not really trying to be, going for more of a fantastical style. It works, I think because they make it cohesive and very pretty.

Men's costumes resemble also resemble Italian styles. The Lombardian style sleeves, short doublets and tight pants land it right there. The men's costumes are much more boring than the fun and fantastical women's costumes, but they got the least worse spot in this worst costumes list for several reasons. The pants are actually tight and they have codpieces. The sleeves are actually really great I love them. And there's no leather pants or doublets.

And look at this, at least one doublet is closed with lacing!! (I apologize for the very low image quality, it was the only picture I found of that costume.)

The biggest gripe I have with the costumes are the boots. Just let these male characters show of their calves. At least not everything is black but the lack of colour is still disappointing too.

4. Becoming Elizabeth (2022)

The female characters have quite excellent costuming. The fabrics are rich and gorgeous, the bodices are extremely smooth and crisp, some of the best I've seen, partlets are on point and correctly used. My only complained is the occasional open hair and yet another case of the weird upward pointing crown-like French hoods.

French hood didn't have any crown shaped thing, it was a hood and the headpiece is actually several headpieces made to reveal the lining of the hood in a crescent shape. So it is very much flat against the head. (I've written about French hood's construction before.) And sure they look more early Tudor fashion, the sleeves should be much more dramatic and the bodice elongated. Like here's a portrait of the actual young Elizabeth. But I think the detailing, great construction and good looking materials make the costuming beautiful and feeling enough like Tudor era.

So how does the men's costuming hold up? Pretty okay, which is why this show is so high up in the list. I haven't seen any leather pants on anyone. Leather jerkins were an actual thing, they just weren't black, and though the leather jerkin in the show was dark brown and not smooth hide, it was not black so that's something. Edward VI does have actual stockings and Renaissance shoes, which is great, but he is a kid and I didn't see any grown man rocking that style which is very cowardly behavior imo. There's some colourful silk jerkins in there too. And they even could get away with all black since that was very fashionable at the time. They are all wearing slashed trunk hose. AND! They have actual accurate codpieces sticking up! That is so rare especially in this period when the codpiece was not just a flat piece of fabric.

Unfortunately this is where the good things I have to say end. All of these court people are for some reason wearing riding boots inside and everywhere all the time. The hose are way too long and the jerkins are way too short. The hose should be just peaking under the hem of the jerkin. Obviously none except the kid uses thigh high stockings. One of the worst things though imo is the lack of structuring in the men's costumes. The women's costumes are so well structured, but the men's costumes are just wet rags hanging on them? The doublets were heavily structured to create a pigeon chest and hourglass effect.

In conclusion, there's clearly some effort made, some very nice historical details, but the overall look is very costumy and sloppy because of the lack of structuring and lacks the historical silhouette.

3. Mad Love (2001)

The movie is set around 1500 Neatherlands (and Spain). I think many of the costumes are gorgeous (like the examples below), though overall the costuming is quite inconsistent. Most of it fits at least okay to the time period and setting, though the red dress here is more along Italian styles, but not entirely off either for early 1500s Low Countries. Some costumes though are 50 years from future. Of the women's costumes alone, this would probably be the worst costuming on this list, though I think better than most Renaissance costuming, which is why it still ended up on this list.

The men's costumes resemble more early 16th century German fashion than Low Countries fashion, which was more similar to French fashion than German. In the red ensemble there's some weird jerkin looking overgarment, but jerkins were not a thing yet and they were never in this style. I will excuse the lack of codpiece since in Low Countries' fashion it was hidden under longer overgarments, even though in this more German style it would have been left in view. The hose are no where near fitted enough, and the boots should not be here at all. Overall this is kind of a mess, but it is better than the last two. We have skirt, we have weird sleeves, open neckline and most importantly, we have colour. Also while this shoulder-length curly hair wasn't in fashion outside Italy at the time, I still appreciate the sluttiness of it.

2. The Borgias (2011-2013)

Now we are getting to the territory, where the lack of effort is starting to be very obvious. Like the costumes till now were not particularly good, but clearly they at least attempted, even if not very hard. So, The Borgias. The show is set in the early 1500s Italy. The women's costumes are gorgeous. Not always the most historically accurate, but at least close enough and very pretty.

The men's costumes however... a deep sigh. Some of them are not that bad, like this first one has kinda Lombardian sleeves and a too small doublet showing off the lacing (in Italy the lacing was almost always ladder-lacing though regardless of gender, but it's something I guess). Most of it though, especially of the leading men, who are supposed to be cool and hot, is absolutely garbage. The same black leather jackets and pants seen in the bottom of the barrel shows. Like the costumes of the female characters and some of the male characters feel like they are from two completely different shows. Like sure they have codpieces, but their pants are so loosely fitted they wouldn't even need the codpieces. (I explain the use of codpieces in this post). And of course they have boots. Of course. In Italy it was even common to not wear shoes at all, they just sewed leather soles at the bottom of the hose. And even the men's costume that have tiniest bit of effort, are so dark and lacking in colour, when the most fashionable young men at the time wore these wildly multicoloured hose and doublets. The feeling I get the showrunners were so god damn afraid of giving the cool male characters any elements or details that could in anyway seen as feminine today, they stripped all the historical elements away. Like they couldn't even give Cesare lacing, they had to make it Manly Buckles?? It's such an insecure performance of masculinity. I admit the last image here is the worst offending example and there were some with a bit of color even, but in other ways most of it is exactly this bad. I will have to hand one thing to them though. They did manage to get the slutty shoulder-length hair right.

If this man is supposed to be sexy, prove it to me by showing his ass with lovingly fitted hose.

1. Rosaline (2022)

This is roughly set in the same time in Italy too as The Borgias, based on women's costumes, I'd say at the very end of 15th century. And those women's costumes are honestly great. They even have hand-sewn eyelets, ladder-lacing and cartridge pleats. Even some of the most high effort costumes don't get these details right. Honestly I only have issue with the hair, the hair goes from okay or outright terrible. They even made this super historically accurate Renaissance apron for a maid.

This got the lowest ranking so you know what comes next. The men's costuming is absolutely unacceptable. I feel like it would be excessive to even describe all the ways these costumes fail since to me they are so obviously bad. The difference between these women's dresses with such gorgeously crafted details and these men's costumes that give absolutely nothing is so stark and gives such a massive dissonance. They are just wearing modern skinny-ish pants, all the colors are so muted and dark, there's no shape, no structure, no codpieces, just sloppy bland jackets and pants. Even less effort than men's costumes in The Borgias have. Except one thing they have over The Borgias, they were able to ladder-lace that doublet. Otherwise these are just bland, boring and actively ugly. And it's so weird that they took this "gritty gruff "realistic"" route, when it's a comedy about Romeo and Juliet? You afford to be a little goofy with a comedy and yet you did this.

Extreme disappointment, do better.

Part II: The Good

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n the thirteenth part! I'm so so so sorry for the wait but girl drained her writing abilities too much and I just couldn't write and then couldn't give you all a shit chapter. I hope you will still enjoy this! ✨🤍 also, your girl is running on 3h of sleep so if there are mistakes, forgive me... I'll fix them when my brain is once again plugged to the internet.🙃

warning: kids, past trauma, substance use... low key seems too little of a list but nothing else comes to mind

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Axel's been desperate for a couple of days now. He had managed to lift off the ground and do a couple of flaps with his wings at the start of the week. The excitement on his face when Azriel carried him back home was unmatched. Unlike anything you had seen before. He was glowing. Radiant. So deeply loved, and it showed. The boy had rambled about it throughout the whole dinner. But Azriel hadn't denied his excitement even once, a proud smile on his face as he let the boy babble on and on.

It felt easy. It was so easy to be there. In Azriel's apartment. To wake up next to him. To watch him come home after a long day. Fetch the kids for classes. Not to mention that his place was ever-shifting. After the first night on his mattress, which was rung by the furthest of walls, Azriel had shown up with Cassian the very next day. Boxes in hand, they got to work putting together the biggest bed frame you had ever seen. He covered the knives stand with some sort of spell. They were there still, a big part of him, but the kids could not reach them. His way of baby-proofing the space. Slowly morphing it into something that suited everyone's needs.

"Lift up and do ten flaps", Azriel's voice floated through the field. The day was beautiful. The sun was out. Warm rays of sunshine kissed the skin. You and Zofie were sitting on a big knitted blanket. The little girl beside you was threading flower crowns. Her tiny tongue was slightly out as she concentrated on her very serious task.

"I can do more", Axel urged. He was standing next to Azriel. His tiny Illyrian leathers clad his skin. His safety armor. A tiny little piece of comfort that the spymaster had gifted to him. Azriel shook his head as he smiled, "Start with ten, then we will see". You could tell that Azriel had also found comfort in teaching Axel. A second chance at a glimpse of a happy childhood. With him and only him in the center of someone's happiness.

For a moment, there was only a warm breeze humming through the field. You watched how Axel got into a position. His determined face faltered, and his eyes darted back up at Azriel. "You will catch me, right?", here it was, that same bitter fear of failing. Of not trusting himself. But Azriel didn't let it settle in as he kneeled next to the boy, "You won't need my help, but if you do, I will be right by your side". Axel's big, golden eyes blinked at Azriel.

"And if I don't make it...", the boy doesn't finish the sentence, but the premise of it is clear. Will you be disappointed? Laugh? Give up on me? Azriel cupped the Axel's cheeks between his scared palms. "Look at me", the spymaster muttered, "You will do it. I know you will. You have to believe in yourself". They looked at each other for a moment before Axel quickly nodded his head, "Okay. I've got this", the boy muttered, Azriel quickly ruffled his hair, "Hell yeah, you do!".

Axel found your eyes across the field. You smiled at him, nodding your head. He could do it, and you did not doubt it. The boy nodded his head one more. A deep breath in. And within seconds, his tiny frame shot up. Axel faltered ever so slightly. Gravity pulling him down. But with one determined flap after another, he managed to stay up above. "Look at me", he beamed from the sky, the wind dancing in his onyx hair. "Y/n! Zo!", he shouted. The girl beside you let out a gasp. Scrambling to her feet as she ran through the flower field to get closer to her brother, "Axel!", she squealed happily. "Good job, honey!", you called right after her, your hand on your chest as you tried to suppress your emotions. One beat after another. Just his energy strained as fast as it was mustard. And the boy slowly sank back down. But the smile on his face didn't seem to shrink.

"Did you see it?", Axel looked across all three of you, breathing heavily. "We did, my love", you beamed at him, leaning closer to kiss his sweaty forehead. "I flew like all of the Illyrians", the boy taped at his leathers proudly, his eyes darting up at Azriel, whose smile was just as big. "I'm so proud of you", Azriel said. "Thank you, pa-Azzy", Axel stuttered, his big eyes suddenly laced with worry, but Azriel only scooped him up in his arms, seating Axel on his shoulder, "You got it, bud".

The kids were far from, content afterward. Too much excitement rushing through their tiny bodies, and now that they were painfully aware that they had Azriel wrapped around their fingers, within a couple of hours you were back in the city, for none other than street pancakes. "You didn't have to say yes", you muttered to Azriel as you two trailed behind the two overly excited younglings. "Why, not?", he said straight away as if tending to their needs had already become second nature for him. "Well, I'm sure you have meetings or people to scare", you shrugged, making Azriel chuckle slightly. The expression easy to miss because his colder mask was back on. What you didn't miss was how some people looked at him. At you all. The emotions were hard to pinpoint, but it was clear evidence that one didn't find the spymaster of the night court casually walking through Velaris streets.

"Look, it's the fountain", the two little monsters came tumbling back, pulling at the skirts of your dress, tiny fingers pointing toward the water fairies. "Now, what did I say about pointing fingers, huh?", you huffed, and the two of them dropped their hands. Quick apologies swirled around, but the pulling didn't ease. Azriel took a heartbeat to look at you three. The way a laugh slipped past your lips as one of the fairy bopped Axel's face making the boy jump back slightly. All courtwork aside, the past couple of weeks have left Azriel feeling weightless. No burdens. No worries. And if something managed to cling to him after a long day, it would all melt away the moment he stepped through his apartment door, hearing your voices and laughter. It felt so good to finally have something that belonged just to him. And it wasn't that territorial fea-male thing. Well, yes, it was, but there was so much more. Azriel finally felt like he had a purpose. His bland days were finally filled with more color. He loved being able to take Zofie to her dance classes. Fetch Axel for training with Cassian. To come home and find you smiling at him. To kiss you softly.

"Can I get two?", Zofie's voice filled Azriel's senses, and his head instantly turned towards the pancake stand. An old lady was already smiling as she looked down at the kids trying to pick their orders. "You won't be able to finish them both, bug," you said as you brushed your fingers through Zofie's hair. "But I can't pick between jam and chocolate", she pouted. Azriel stepped closer, earning a slight bow from the owner, that he quickly returned with a nod.

"Azzy, you pick", Zofie quickly moved towards the spymaster, cleverly making grabby hands at him so that once the order was made, she would be able to see how they were made because, not like Axel, she couldn't see over the stand. "I would like apple crumble, please", Axel said, fingers twirling with the material of your skirt. "And jam and chocolate", Azriel followed suit. You shot him a look, but he was already too occupied by how Zofie was beaming in his arms.

"Add it to my account too", Azriel said firmly, and you shook your head. "Nonsense, let me pay for it", you reached for the satchel fastened to your corset. But Azriel softly took hold of your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Don't fight me on this, love", he simply muttered. And stop frowning; it doesn't suit you. Azriel's smug voice filled your mind, making you let out a huff. You're too full of yourself; let me pay for something. You muttered back, but Azriel only smirked. You are paying; it's our shared account. A breath hitched in your throat. A shared account? But only members of the inner circle shared accounts with their partners. And you... you blinked a couple of times. Had Azriel set his claim over you to Rhys? You're not an object. Azriel's velvety voice rang out once more.

You were about to answer him a gasp left Axel's lips, soon followed by Zofie. "Grammy", the two of them said in unison. Cordelia had just set her bags down as the two swarmed her. Jumping. Giggling. "My gorgeous bunch", the woman said, cradling them both in her arms, "I swear you two have grown an inch since I last saw you". They both beamed at her, pancakes long forgotten. Azriel's shadows made quick work of his mother's bags. Tiny little clouds got to work immediately as they moved to carry them back to her house.

"Azriel, Y/N", Cordelia said, turning to you both as you finally approached her hands full of food. "What are we celebrating?", the elderly woman asked. "Grammy, I flew. Azriel took me to the field. I was up in the sky", Axel said excitedly, and your eyes instantly filled up with tears, making you blink quickly. "Oh, sweet boy", Cordelia cupped Axel's cheek, "That's wonderful. Soon, you'll outmatch my Azriel. But don't tell him I told you so". The boy giggled sheepishly, catching a glimpse of Azriel, but his calm expectation didn't change.

"Why don't you two leave them with me", Cordelia said after a moment, "I'm heading home anyway". The kids instantly stepped towards her as if they didn't care for what any of you had to say. "No, ma'am, that...", "Cordelia, darling", Azriel's mom corrected you instantly. "You must be tired, and...", you tried again, only to be met with another smile, "Nonsense, these two are angels. Plus", she muttered, "When was the last time you two spent time alone?". Never. The answer was never. And the fact that the answers sank on you so quickly said it all. You and Azriel had never truly been alone. Had never been on a date.

"Exactly", Cordelia stated proudly. "I'm looking after my grandchildren, and if I see any of you at my doorstep before tomorrow evening", she narrowed her eyes, "Let's say you don't want to know what will happen". Azriel let out a laugh, shaking his head at his mother. "Thank you", he muttered. Cordelia simply leaned in to kiss her son's cheek before she squeezed your shoulder. "Have fun", she winked, turning towards the kids, already pointing them towards another stand.

"Do you want some more?", Azriel lifted the halfway-empty bottle, but you shook your head, "I still have some, thank you". Oddly enough, it felt strange to spend time with Azriel like this. No rush. No need to go places. No kids to look after. No serious worries. Just you two. A quiet apartment and a long night that was still ahead of you two. You shifted, brushing your hand through your hair.

"This feels strange in a way", Azriel breathed out, running his hand over his face, "I mean, I don't want you to feel like...", he was quick to point out, but you rested your hand on his thigh, "We're not used to being together like this". The shadowsinger nodded his head before he leaned back into the sofa, putting his glass on the tiny table that was set on the side. His arms reached forward, pulling at your hand. A chuckle slipped past your lips as Azriel tugged you closer to his chest. "What are you doing?", you breathed, still smiling. "Something I should have done at the start of the evening", Azriel mused, letting out a satisfied hum now that you were pressed against his chest.

Silence filled the room. You let yourself listen to the way Azriel's heart was drumming right beneath your ear. Warmth spread through your body. This, without a doubt, was how peace felt. "Should we play a game?", Azriel spoke up, finally making you lift your head from his chest. "A game?", you frowned slightly, pulling away. "Yeah, like, get to know each other game", Azriel breathed out, a slight pink tint brushing his cheeks. You let out a chuckle. "Okay, I am...", you breathed out, "Are Rhys and Cass your biological brothers?", "Straight at it...", Azriel let out a surprised breath, and worry instantly washed over you. "Was I not supposed to?", your big eyes looked at him. "No, no, it's okay; I like that you're taking the lead", Azriel reassured you wiggling his brows making you rill your eyes in return. You two moved to sit opposite each other. Your legs were tucked beneath you, but Azriel's hand still stayed on your thigh.

"And to answer your question, they are not", he said smoothly. "We meet in the camp. Rhys's mother pulled us under her wing; the rest is history but they feel like blood brothers". You found yourself nodding; you knew that they were in training together. Most people called them the inseparable three for a reason. The loved they shared always made you smile. It was rare. Especially between territorial Illyrian males. "Your mother was from Helion's court," Azriel stated, claiming his turn, "You've ever thought about going there?". You took a moment to let his words sink in. Rhys had brought that up a couple of times, but the idea of going to a place you knew nothing about to meet people you knew nothing about. "No...", you breathed out. "I mean, it'll sound bad, but Helion keeps his angels under tight wraps." Pulling the strand of your hair, you quickly twirled it around your fingers, "If he had use for me, he would have claimed me by now". A rumble left Azriel's chest, "No one can claim you; you make your own choices". His voice was thick with frustration. The thought, clearly, unsettled him. You reached for his hand once more, "Azriel, I know, hence why I said it would sound bad". But the frown between his brows didn't ease until your fingers carefully brushed over his skin.

You weighed your next question for a heartbeat before muttering, "Your hands, can you tell me the real story?", you watched as Azriel's face shifted with emotion. The man was almost a myth. The amount of stories told about him could easily be turned into a book but... most of them seemed so far fetched. For a heartbeat, you even regretted your question, but then Azriel let out a sigh. "You know about the basement...", the spymaster clenched his palms together. "This was one of their games", you shifted slightly, reaching for his hands as you clasped them in yours. Azriel's eyes lingered on your joined palms. "One night they wanted to test how quickly I would heal. So they dunked my hands in oil and set them on fire", his words sounded cold and distant. But then how else would you talk about the trauma that shifted your life. You bit the inside of your cheek as you leaned closer to him. But before you could fully rest against him, you pulled his hands up to your mouth, placing kiss after kiss on the scared surface. He didn't stop you. Didn't pull away. Soaking in the warmth of you. The tender touch.

But your movements stalled at his next words, "Your back", Azriel muttered. You let go of him instantly, drawing back, "What of it?", you asked, even if you knew more than well what he was asking for. In a way, your scars linked you both together. But you've worked your hardest to keep that side of you hidden from everyone. Even yourself. You let your head drop slightly, and Azriel's fingers instantly hooked beneath your chin. If there was something this man was against, it was you feeling small when you were with him.

"You don't have to", he breathed out, his gorgeous hazel eyes piercing through you. Eyes that had captured your soul the very same night you two had come for one another's throats in his room. You chose to swallow your words, turning away from him. Suddenly, your dress felt way too tight on your body. Azriel took that as a sign to drop the topic, ready to apologize when you muttered, "Undo the ribbon". Azriel swallowed thickly. Hesitation stilled his movements. But his trembling fingers still reached for the light blue material. Goosebumps trickled down your spine instantly.

Azriel could see the way your shoulders tensed the looser the fabric got around your chest. Leaning in, he placed a couple of loving kisses on your shoulder blades. He hesitated before letting the fabric fall off your skin, your hand instantly moving to cover your breasts in front. But Azriel was too far captured by the brutal slashes that even now shined red and black against your skin. The angel wings you had didn't start at the same spot where Illyrian wings rooted, which explained why the spymaster didn't catch a glimpse of them while you were in nothing but your silk nightgown.

"I hoped I could heal myself...", you muttered quietly, biting your lip. Azriel's eye snapped back up, and he instantly brought your trembling frame into his chest. Mother, strike him for letting himself gawk like that. He knew what being stared at like that felt like. The scrutiny. The pity. Blimey, his own family still shot him glances like that, and here he was. His strong arms cocooned your frame before he realized the lack of clothes covering your chest. Azriel's cheeks pinked, even if he couldn't see anything that he hadn't already seen. He moved to lift the fabric, but you stopped him, motioning for him to let you go. He got his clue here—you didn't want him watching, so his head wiped to a completely different side.

"I've never been with a male", you muttered after a heartbeat. Azriel's body froze once more. Something deep and territorial, way stronger than before, scratched at his chest. "Was I your first...", his words were barely a whisper, as you chased them away. "Everything so far...", you breathed out. Was admitting this to him awkward? Yes. But he was your mate. Surely, he would realize that eventually. Azriel turned back to face you. Realizing that he probably should have asked if he could turn around in the first place. But he found your shy eyes looking up at him. He reached for you once more. Pulling you over his lap, his hand resting on your hip.

"Thank you for sharing that", he breathed against your neck, brushing tiny feather-like kisses all over your collarbones. The tickling sensation made you giggle slightly before a frown washed over you once more. "I understand if it's not attractive", you breathed out, and Azriel halted in his movements, pulling back to meet your eyes. "Love, I'm more than okay with waiting till you're ready", he reassured you as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. "But that's... you have needs", you whispered, catching his wrist. Azriel let out a breathy chuckle, scanning your face before he leaned in to peck your lips. "I am no longer a teenager who gets a hard-on from any moving thing in front of him, but thank you for your concern, love", he said, utterly satisfied with his answer. "Ew, Azriel", you cackled, hitting his chest playfully. The spymaster's laugh matched yours in no time as he pulled you down on the plush sofa, nestling you deeper into his embrace.

You had hoped to wake up in Azriel's arms the next morning. The intimacy of last night's confessions still lingered. But once the slumber left your body, you quickly realized that the bed felt way too cold. A pang ached in your chest, but you knew that he was a busy man. A note you found in the kitchen proved just that. An urgent meeting. I hate that I had to leave you like that. I will see you in the evening, Az. You brushed your fingers over the paper, turning your attention to the bond, smothering it with soft touches, only to be met with a cold wall. You frowned slightly. But then, he always shut it off when he was out on duty. You knew that if something was seriously bad, he would answer. But nothing was seriously bad and you weren't about to become a needy partner. Brushing the nagging thoughts away, you smiled to yourself. No, nothing was going to ruin the plan you had for tonight.

And it started out so perfectly. From the way you had allowed yourself to explore the city. Wondering from one shop to another. Everyone greeted you with a smile. The streets were humming even in the early morning. All the smells and sounds fill your senses. You tested cheese from a local farmer's stand, listening to the stories about the sheep that he owned. You had forgotten what it felt like to live like this. Now fully understanding why Zofie and Axel loved it here so much. The white, quiet walls of the sanctuary felt more like a prison than a happy home when you compared it to the city.

Your arm was aching from the bag you were carrying, but it didn't seem to bother you today. Your eyes caught the stand full of freshly cut flowers. Like a little bee on a hunt for nectar, you turned its way. The lady greeted you with a wave. She, like the man before, shared her passion for the blooms before wrapping a big bouquet of peonies in paper. The smell of them made your lips taste sweet. But the moment her hands brushed yours, you felt a tight grip on your arms. Dark eyes looked at you. Sharp venomous teeth gleamed, "Silly child, he is not your happy ever after. You're burning in flames of pain for your mistakes", the thick words sounded, making you draw away, nearly dropping all of your stuff. You bumped into someone, pulling your eyes away from the lady, and when you finally blinked, a man was holding onto your shoulders. Steadying you. "Are you alright, dear?", the female called out to you, making you take a double look at both of them. "Yeah", you muttered, feeling your cheeks heating up. "I'm so sorry, I just got dizzy from all the smells", you breathed out, quickly taking hold of your things and hurrying away.

You hoped the feeling of unease would lessen eventually. That the image of that monstrous face would fade. But it stuck around. Sending shivers down your back all day long. The same way it did up at the house of wind. You had felt slightly better at Cordelia's house, where you stopped to get the kids, but the moment you crossed Azriel's apartment's entrance, it clasped right over your throat once more. "Do I put this in?", Axel called out, making you draw your attention back to the two kids. A pot of stew was bubbling on the stove. You pressed a palm against your temple, an odd throb aching there.

"Yes, sweetie, give it a mix too", the two of them had been desperate to make Azriel's mother's stew. Cordelia had cooked with them a couple of times, and now they had taken it upon themselves to show what they had learned. "I need help", Zofie muttered, pulling at your sleeve. She had been tasked with pulling some of the herbs from the stems and dicing them. Yet your body didn't seem to comprehend the request. Axel turned to her instead. "Show me", he said, but you could feel his eyes on you. Both of their eyes are on you.

"Y/N", Axel called out softly, "Is everything okay?" The real answer to that would be that you didn't know. It was the tightness and numbness in your chest that unsettled you the most. You've never felt like before. As if something was missing all of a sudden. You tried to claw out of the hazy daze, "Yeah, I'm...", but your voice died down to the sound of the knock on the door. Axel jumped off his step stool, but you caught him by his shoulder. "Stay here with Zo", you muttered. Deep down, you hoped that it was Azriel or someone from the family, but then Azriel wouldn't knock. He never did.

You cracked the door open as if you already didn't feel confused enough. There she stood. The prettiest pink dress framed her figure. Loose curls fell over her shoulders. Elain. You braced yourself against the doorframe. Mother, don't let this be what you thought it was. "Oh", the female gasped lightly. "I...", she stuttered, suddenly growing fidgety. "How can I help you?", you breathed out, trying to keep your racing mind at bay. "Azriel said we would meet here; that usually means alone", her tone was sweet, but every word sent daggers flying straight into your heart. Silly child, he is not your happy ever after. The voice echoed in your mind. You blinked rapidly, frown marking your features. For a moment, it seemed as if something flashed through Elain's eyes before she mustered a forced smile back on her lips.

"I apologize for interrupting", Elain turned to walk away but halted quickly as if changing her mind. "Actually", she muttered, "I forgot about a little gift", her voice trembled as she pulled her hand out of the dress pocket, opening her palm to reveal a crystal-clear powder. She blew on it gently, flecks flowing towards you. The same invisible hand clawed at your throat. You tried to gasp for air, but it felt useless. You staggered back, the sound of someone grinding their teeth drilled through your head. A scream echoed through the space as your body hit the floor. Muffled noises rang endlessly. Noises. Screams. Zofie and Axel. The last bits of your rational mind called out. You dug your nails into the floor, turning your body towards the kitchen. Black figures swarmed all around, both of the kids trashing in their grip. You reached your hand towards them, but before you could cry out to them, everything went black.

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