#so if it sounds inaccurate. its cause it is

[cult-of-dollbabies]

btw a couple of those supernatural elements in abomination will be near to complete bullshit

[gemkun]

anonymous said : dan heng, since the vidyadhara are self reproducing, does that mean marriage and dating don’t exist for your culture?

      ⸻       ❝   the   vidyadhara   are   not   self   —   reproducing.   they   undergo   the   cycle   of   self   —   reincarnation.   it   begins   with   embryonic   development   in   the   ancient   sea   and   once   the   egg   is   nurtured   ,   it   proceeds   to   hatch.   the   young   vidyadhara   are   then   guided   into   adulthood   under   the   elders   ,   where   they   acquire   knowledge   gradually   ,   and   discover   their   specialisation   to   depart   to   their   respective   places.   in   their   maturity   they   become   elders   themselves   and   teach   the   young   ,   who   then   realise   their   trade   as   their   elders   once   did.   after   seven   centuries   ,   they   return   to   the   same   sea   ,   lose   their   memories   ,   molt   and   revert   to   embryos   once   more   to   await   their   hatching   rebirth.   the   cycle   then   restarts.   ❞

  ❝   this   hatching   rebirth   does   not   affect   romantic   inclination   —   marriage   and   dating   are   not   exclusive   for   procreation.   vidyadhara   are   capable   of   experiencing   emotions   such   as   love.   any   creature   with   a   consciousness   is.   on   the   luofu   ,   i   have   come   across   a   great   deal   of   individuals   who   express   their   affliction.   but   it   is   true   that   aversion   for   romance   exists   ,   which   largely   stems   from   the   removal   of   memories   in   later   years.   however   ,   love   has   proven   to   be   quite   powerful   and   challenges   even   fate   itself.   ❞

[boy-armageddon]

shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals <3

:3 I like neeever make playlists and I got worried till I remembered I made one once a month or so ago cause someone wanted to know my taste in music so I just really sloppily threw something together LMAO. I'll also really quickly link the songs under the cut

[divinesolas]

Can you write cregan x reader where the cregan's son calls the reader mother for the first time it's very emotional because she hasn't been able to get pregnant.

c.w: inaccurate tl of events, slight angst, fluff, not proofread, drabble !

a.n: this was such a cute little thing to write as i take a break from my more angsty, enemies to lovers slow burn fics 😭😭 tysm for the request <3

Your hands hurt. You’re sure you have probably over ten splinters in your hands, some of your fingers are covered in bandages and you feel like your fingers are stuck in place from how long you had been working on it but it was worth it.

The way his face lit up when you presented it to him for his nameday. He grabbed it from your hands eagerly and held it up closer to his face to admire it. “Its a direwolf!” You bend down to be eye level with the young rickon.

He was not your birth son, you were not cregan’s first wife. Arra was his birth mother who died on her birthing bed, but you met cregan years after he had healed from the loss and he quickly became infatuated with you, asking for your hand and you were married when rickon was five.

You loved the boy like he was your own, you would sit and read to him, you would play with him when cregan was too busy. He was adorable, having rickon in your life made you want to have more kids. It had been a struggle, its been over a year since you and cregan have been trying for a child and nothing.

You cried a lot, whenever you would leave the checkups from the maesters and shake your head it breaks your heart too see cregans face. You feel terrible and all you want is to have children. If rickon is truly the only child you end up having you would be content, as rickon is such a sweet child but your heart did long for more.

“Yes it is, Happy nameday sweetie.” You place your hand affectionately on his cheek and he beams at you, wrapping his arms around your neck. “Thank you mama.”

You freeze as you feel him grinning into your neck. mama. He’s never called you that before. He knows you're not his mother, He has always just called your name, or at least he tried to, coming up with a strange combination of sounds. But never anything paternal.

You feel you eyes well up with tears as you wrap your arms around him tightly, pressing a kiss into his curly hair. “I love you.” “I love you too mama.”

You look up at the door when it opens, seeing cregan look upon to the two of with alarm at your tear covered face. “Is something wrong?”

Rickon escapes your grip and turns to his father with a grin, obviously to the amount of joy he’s caused you, holding up the wooden toy you had hand carved. “Look what mama gave me!”

Cregan looks at you and takes a deep breath, “Yes it is wonderful, have you thanked your mama?” “yes papa, can i go play?” Cregan nods and rickon turns to you, giving you a wave before he runs out the room with a giggle.

You sniffle as cregan comes to sit on the floor next to you. “He calls you mama.” You laugh as a smile graces your face, “I am so happy, i love him like he is my own.” Cregan cups your face and brushes your tears off your face. “One day we will have more i promise you.”

“You say that as if it is your fault.” “You believe it to be yours?” “Why would it not be my fault? The baby would sit in my womb, it is nobodies fault other than my own.” He presses one of his palms against your stomach and kisses your cheek. “We will keep trying my love.”

[goldsainz]

❝ LOVE AT FIRST WAVE ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x surfer!reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . a surfing mishap leads to meeting the cutest guy you’ve ever seen.

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . probable inaccurate depictions of surfing, no use of y/n.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i said i would do this is… and i have… so better late than never… also this is my first written piece of 2024!!! pls tell me how this is, i’m a bit rusty so i need all the advice i can get (be nice cause my feelings will get hurt otherwise😔)

[ word count: 1,1k ]

The sea was the calmest place you knew. 

Ever since you were a little kid you loved going and hearing the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the feeling of liberty swimming gave you, most of all you cherished the peace it brought you.

That's how your love for surfing was born, with it being the best excuse to spend time at sea, you found yourself indulging in it far too much. So mucus so, that you ended up signing up for a worldwide surfing competition. 

That’s how you ended up in Australia, surfing in one of the most beautiful places you had ever been in. It was a magical place to be in and you found yourself very content with the place so far.

The beaches were not as crowded as you were used to, but even then, you didn't care much for how the beach was but more so the sea and its waves. You had spent almost all day, taking a few breaks when the sun was too strong, surfing and testing the waters. 

You felt at peace. Or at least for a while.

You were riding a wave, when a scream alerted you. You were no stranger to people surfing and believing they could handle the power of the sea, just to be disappointed when they realised they could not manage. At the very rost, after a few minutes they resigned and took to tanning. 

You swiftly stopped what you were doing and swam towards the noise, there you found two guys laughing whilst another gasped for air. You couldn't decipher if he was alright, but you supposed he was by the way his friends were reacting.

“Hi,” you interrupted their laughter, smiling at them when they turned around at the voice, “I heard a scream and wanted to check if everything was alright. ”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” one of the guys says with a  smile “He’s just not very good at this.”

“Hey!” the guy who was coughing chastises, rubbing his hands over his face as he tries to dry it.

You look at him more attentively, and realise how attractive he is. Which comes as a surprise to you because a few minutes ago he seemed to have been trampled over by a wave. 

“Yeah, a lot of people are surprised by how hard this is.” you comment, making small talk to stay around the cute guy a little longer. 

The moment he hears your voice again, he looks at you and is mesmerised by what his eyes see. He had heard you the first time you spoke, but he was busy dealing with the salty water and coughing fits, so it was a bit hard to put a face on the voice. But even then, your voice was a melody to him, that for a split second he wondered if he was in the presence of a siren. 

“He exaggerates, I just underestimated the wave by a little.” he says, suddenly feeling the need to defend whatever talent he has. 

“It’s okay,” you respond with a laugh. 

Your laugh.

Even though he has just heard it for the first time and wants to hear it forever. The theory of you being a siren doesn't seem so outlandish to Charles now.

“Thank you for trying to, uh… rescue me?” he says, scratching the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you.

“It was nothing, I know how rough the sea can be.”

“Still, I’d like to thank you somehow.”

By now his friends have dispersed a little, they stay close to him but not so much that they hear your conversation. Though they know well enough what is going on, muffling their giggles at his attempt at flirting. Even after he almost drowned, he doesn't lose his ways.

“Really, it’s nothing,” you wish you could smack yourself the moment you say those words. You have a cute guy insinuating taking you out as a ‘thank you’ and you’re so dense you brush off the invite.

“Well, I’m not leaving this beach until I can somehow repay you for your kindness.” he knows he’s being dramatic. You didn’t really do much, you just approached him and his friends to check if he was drowning and he’s acting like you saved his life or something. But he doesn’t know how to act. He just knows he can’t let you go.

“We could meet by the beach bar? They make a really good piña colada.” you suggest, adjusting yourself on your surfboard.

“Yes,” he responds quickly, maybe even far too quickly but he doesn’t care, “That would work.”

“Okay,” you answer, smiling yet again which in turn makes Charles smile.

“Okay, then.”

You stare at each other for a few seconds, though they feel like forever to him. He swears he could look at your for eternity and not get bored, there is so much to you and he doesn’t even know anything about you.

“What’s your name, by the way?” you ask shyly, aware of the strange situation you’ve found yourself in, “If you’re gonna take me out for drinks I should probably know your name.”

It is a breath of fresh air to have someone not know him. He is always happy to take pictures or sign autographs, but every once in a while he longs to not be recognised and lead a life away from the public eye.

And so when he goes to answer he has a huge smile on his face, the dimple on his cheek making an appearance. You find it incredibly endearing, and you resist the urge to kiss him on the cheek and see how it feels under your lips. 

“It’s Charles, yours?” you respond with your name, and he finds it —just as everything else about you— so charming.

“Well, don’t drown until then, please.” you joke, and you watch him playfully roll his eyes.

“The wave came out of nowhere, so it wasn’t my fault.” he tries to justify himself, but he knows he’s just lying to save face. 

“Sure it wasn’t,” you assure him, but he sees right through you, “I’ll see you then?”

“Yes,”

“Great, I’ll be waiting.”

“Me too.”

You linger a little longer, and then say your goodbyes, waving at his friends who make their way over him now that your conversion has finished. 

Looking into the distance, you can tell you have a while more to be in the sea before the sun sets. You swim away from the charming guy you just met, butterflies flutter in your stomach and it is not because of the waves.

And though you love the sea, you can’t wait to get back at land and reconnect with the stranger you just met.

-ˋˏ *.· taglist . . . @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @saintiastri @saintslewis @leoramage @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @toomuchdelusion @louvrepool @ravisinghs-wife @nouvellevqgue @hobiismyhopeu @starlightpierre @lecsainz @kkeelss @namgification @minkyungseokie @gothgirlez @f1version

[adragonsfriend]

Use this one trick to instantly fix all childhood trauma (Jedi Masters don’t want you to know this)!!!!!

That is what every “if Obi-Wan had just— *adds one extra scene to canon* —then Anakin would’ve had perfect mental health and never listened to Palpatine at all,” sounds like to me. Look I am not an expert on any kind of psychology at all let alone early childhood development but,

It is possible to do your very best to help or raise someone and still have bad or imperfect outcomes, especially when you have someone actively, secretly working against you (cough cough Sith Lord of the month cough), (for many reasons, but in this case particularly), because unravelling the mindset built in early childhood is hard, actually.

Coming at this from the “raised in a safe and loving environment” side of things, it took me years to figure out and internalize that my friends whose parents weren’t as great as mine were functioning in an entirely different landscape when it came to their interactions with adults.

Many years ago when I was in middle school a friend (acquaintance? idk I think most people thought I was annoying) told me that her ankle kept giving out and causing her pain. I asked if she'd told her parents so she could rest or go to the doctor. She told me she had, but her mother either hadn't listened or refused to help. My (approximate) responses?

"So it's not actually that bad then?"

"You should tell her again."

"Are you sure you explained it right?"

The only explanation I could comprehend at the time was that there must have been some unclear communication about the situation or its severity--if her mother had understood she was in pain, she couldn't possibly have just not done anything about it? Adults are responsible, caring, etcetera! They wouldn't do that?!

With more experience, I've come to understand better, and learned to respond in kinder, more helpful ways, but the shift in mindset was not and is not intuitive.

And I had the luxury of figuring all that out whilst being safe myself. Coming from the other direction, being in danger and trying to figure out why other people act like the world is safe? I can't say for sure, but I imagine it’s a lot more complicated.

Point with regard to Star Wars being, it really is harder for Anakin, coming in later, to acclimate to the Jedi ways and thought processes than it is for his peers who grew up in the safe environment of the Temple. And whatever arguments people want to have about how much psychology and therapy exist in the Star Wars universe, or how much “Jedi just do cognitive behavioral therapy” (not totally inaccurate, but reductive on several levels), no matter what the answers to those questions, it will still be harder for Anakin.

There is a reason the council changes its mind on training him only after he is suddenly famous and the Sith are proven to be back. When Anakin was not in significant danger of being snatched up by someone else, it was genuinely probably the easier and safer option—for him and everyone else—for him to live a different life.

The Jedi are not necessarily fully prepared for a child with Anakin's history, and, there is nothing bad about living an ordinary life. Anakin would not have been somehow unforgivably robbed by living life as a mechanic or an engineer or something, rather than being a Jedi.

Anakin is a victim of many things in his life—Sidious, Watto, Gardulla, Tatooine’s everything, his own conscious choices—but he is not a victim of malice, incompetence, or idiocy by the Jedi just because they couldn't—in only a decade or so—help him fully and perfectly unravel the mindset he developed in his early childhood. If there was any lack of qualification on their part, it was one they were aware of—but which was outweighed by the danger of little Anakin getting kidnapped out of normal-kid elementary school.

Being brought up in and around slavery absolutely made him more vulnerable to Sidous and became the basis of their dynamic as master and apprentice. Acting like the trauma that affects his mindset and actions for his entire life can be obliterated just by making minimal changes to the plot is wild to me.

And don’t get me wrong, fics and headcanons can do whatever they want, not everyone wants or is trying to write a deep psychological character study (also fanfic and even fiction in general cannot and should not be held to any standard of realism if it's not serving the story and the author)—simple fix-it’s (my love) are fun and an excellent short-cut to other things like happiness and fluff (my other loves)—but don’t act serious about the idea that adding one conversation about his feelings or one extra explanation about Jedi philosophy would automatically lead to Anakin having perfect mental health outcomes and always making good decisions.

Disclaimer (if the ones throughout weren't enough) : please go forth and do whatever you want. the moral of this post is actually just that (1) you won’t convince me, (2) I wanted to talk about this, (3) the clickbait title was too funny not to post, (4) i literally can't open my mouth without phrasing things like i'm in the middle of a heated debate, and (5) i continue to not be an expert in early childhood development—my evidence is very literally anecdotal

[melodyglow-blog]

Dabi /Touya canon accurate relationship Headcanons

I was thinking of some accurate dabi hcs of him in a relationship.

With each Headcannon, i wanted to put in proof of why i thought that way.

This list is deeply inspired by @yandere-mha depiction of dabi because i feel like hers is the most accurate.

DABI AS A BF/ with a SO that hes attracted to.

Canonically, dabi witnessed the way his dad treated his mom regarding intimacy, i believe touya would not have a good understanding of sexual consent at least in the begining. He would be too hard and too fast when he is manic.

Outside of mania, sex with him would be much more quiet, but now hes extremely self concious and sensitive (evidenced by his personality in and out of his manic episodes)

He has severe anxious attachment and bipolar disorder. In the moment will run his mouth and hide himself to cry afterwards. Most of his apologies to you wouldnt even be in your presence (evidenced by his apology to his mom and shoto).

Has a staring problem, very perceptive. (Evidenced by his behaviour in the games)

Unlike other posts similar to this I believe dabi would actually be heavy into praising you. EVERY DEPICTION of dabi from the fighting games to the phone game (i forgot the name) has dabi PRAISING people, even enemies. I believe this is because he was raised by a father that praised physical strength, he internalised that belief even though what he truly wanted was unconditional love and attention

Either very quiet or pouring full of emotion, dont even expect him to be reasonable when he is manic.

Biggest 'trauma dumper', he WILL take it as a massive personal slight if he catches you zoning out or not listening when he is trauma dumping (evidenced by his relationship with natsuo)

WILL project his trauma onto you, as evidenced by the way he burnt togas house down. He does not have much life experience in general outside of his trauma so that will be a way for him to connect with his SO.

King of mommy issues 💀 cannonically, Touya wasnt given the opportunity to meaningfully connect with his mom. He will unfortunately project that maternal role in his life onto his SO regardless of gender. Taking care of his physical and emotional needs is an expectation he WILL make your responsibility if he is in love with you.

If he ever has a kid, you better make sure you ONLY have one, cause he will make one kid the golden child, even if its subconcious and he feels terrible because of it. His behaviour as a dad will mirror the way he was treated in early childhood, he WILL make his kid his golden child and unless you intervene, that kid will grow up very spoilt and with a crazily inflated ego. He WILL project himself onto his kid.

[ivystoryweaver]

With You (part 1)

next part  ||  Fic Masterlist  ||  My Masterlist

Hi, everyone! This is not my first fic, but it is my first MK fic! I have been on Tumblr for ages, but never actually posted a fic here. (I know this account is newer. My much older one is my more personal blog). 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. 

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader. No references to reader’s gender. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 2890

Warnings: Angst, drinking, alcoholism, ummm cursing? Some kissing and stuff? No actual smut. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Marc was a little quiet lately. Strangely quiet, even for him. 

After finishing your shift at the hospital and stumbling home exhausted, you were eager to see your fiancé, maybe even talk to him to see what was going on. 

After a brief eternity riding up in the old lift in your building, you finally turned the key in the deadbolt and let yourself into your shared flat. As usual, one of the boys had left on a small lamp in the entry way, its incandescent glow the only illumination in the flat except for the florescent light of Steven’s fish tank.

Depositing your belongings on the entry table and kicking off your shoes, you quietly made your way toward the bedroom. But as you passed the darkened kitchen you heard a whispered, “Shit,” followed by the sound of a glass bottle landing on the countertop.

Marc.

He was drinking. Even with only the moon’s glow through the kitchen window, you could make out his preferred brand of whiskey.

In the span of a heartbeat, you took in the sight before you. Marc was facing away from you, as if he had been staring out the window, perhaps cursing the moon. Sweatpants hung low on his hips as if he’d made little effort to tie the drawstring. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt and the muscles of his back expanded with a labored breath.

Broad shoulders sagged as his fingers gripped the counter’s edge, his head bowed in what was likely shame. His curls tumbled forward, and you were certain that his long fingers had raked through them relentlessly in your absence, to be able to pull them from Marc’s preferred style.

God, he was beautiful like this, in the moonlight. You couldn’t breathe for a moment, and you wondered how he was able to bring this reaction out in you after four years as a couple. Still...you were worried.

“Marc?” You softly called, giving him a moment to hear your voice and acknowledge you before you attempted to touch him. Despite your loving and very physical relationship, he didn’t like to be caught off guard by anything - most especially not by touch.

He sighed so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

“Marc--”

“I know,” he bit out, though his voice was soft, sounding insistent rather than angry. 

You paused, confused. “What?”

His hand reached for the whiskey bottle, which he lifted and quickly set back down on the counter, shoving it away from him. The liquid sloshed but didn’t spill - he had already taken care of too much of it himself. 

“I know,” he repeated, still refusing look at you, or even lift his head from its bowed position. 

Fairly certain you knew what he meant, you clarified, “You mean you know you’re drinking?” 

Huffing out a sigh, he pushed his fingers through his curls, shifting uncomfortably. He didn’t want to face you like this. You had been through this - his drinking. It was bad at one point - drinking every night, passing out, getting into fights, but he worked hard and got sober. He worked so hard...

As far as you knew, this was his first drink in two years. 

You were devastated on his behalf, but more than anything you wondered what could have caused him to pick up a bottle.

Finally, he turned his head to the side, granting you the view of his profile. “Yeah, I am. So let’s hear it.”

He was waiting for something from you. A lecture? Disbelief, anger, something. 

Pausing to calm your racing thoughts, you tried to figure out how to keep from running to him, grabbing him, overwhelming him, smothering him with love and concern. 

Impatient, he turned all the way around, leaning against the countertop to glare at you. You could barely see his face in the darkness, but you could imagine the grumpy glower he wore. 

“Well?” He asked, sounding more defeated than annoyed.

Squeezing your fists together, you exhaled quietly. Whatever anger or disappointment he was expecting from you tonight, it just wasn’t there. All you felt was overwhelming compassion and deep concern. What had hurt your Marc so deeply? Who were you going to have to tear apart? 

Easing toward him, you moved carefully, slowly, angling your body toward his side, ending up beside him. Placing one hand gently on his forearm, you felt it flex in nervous anticipation. He stopped breathing as your eyes flicked up to his. 

“Are you hurt, Marc?” You softly inquired, not even daring to squeeze or rub his warm flesh. 

Exhaling shakily, he quickly shook his head.

You rubbed your thumb across his arm, feather soft, that small point of contact searing your skin with yearning for him. “Is this okay, sweetheart?”

His chest rose with a pained breath. With a slight nod, his chin dropped down to his chest, unable to look at you anymore.

You dared to rub and down his arm then. Small strokes of your fingertips dancing on his flesh, soothing, not demanding. “Missed you today,” you said sweetly, momentarily ignoring what was clearly agitating him the most - what you would think of him breaking his two-year sobriety. 

Truthfully, your concern was growing with every passing moment. But you knew Marc as well as you knew yourself. You could get nowhere with him if he didn’t feel safe. And was so safe with you. You would burn worlds down for this man you were about to marry. 

“What are you doing?” he harshly whispered, recoiling only a fraction from your touch. “I almost finished the bottle.” A confession of sorts. 

Gently giving his arm a final squeeze, you let go, after laying a soft kiss to his bare shoulder. Reaching for the bottle, you shocked the hell out of your fiancé by taking a swig, wincing as the strong liquid burned your throat. 

“Damn,” you gasped, immediately taking another drink. “You didn’t save much for me.” Tipping the bottle again, you never got to your third swig before Marc ripped it from your grasp.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t drink that shit.” He flung the bottle into the sink, where it crashed and broke. It definitely sounded more dramatic than it looked - he hadn’t tossed it very hard, but you still involuntarily flinched, which, of course, worried and upset Marc. 

“Shit, baby...I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to...I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s okay, Marc, I’m okay,” you quickly assured him, moving fully into his personal space for the first time all evening. You decided to move and speak with confidence from here on out. He needed to know where you stood. Placing your palms soothingly on his broad, bare chest, you felt his thundering heart. 

“Hey,” you whispered, gazing lovingly up into his frantic eyes. Repeating his name, you waited for him to look down at you, into your eyes, which he finally, reluctantly did. 

“I’m sorry,” you softly soothed, reaching up to trace his jaw line with your fingertips. “I didn’t mean to upset you by having a drink.”

“Why?” he harshly whispered. “I don’t want you drinking that.”

You made a face, “Baby, you were drinking that.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” He jerked away from your touch. “So just say what you’re going to say. Just fucking say it.”

So he was waiting on a lecture. Or a fight maybe. 

“Is there any more?” you asked as he began to pace the kitchen floor. He looked a bit like a caged animal - contained but alert. 

He paused for a moment, almost snarling at you, but seeing your innocent, truly curious expression, he quickly decided that maybe you were really curious and not mocking him. 

“Steven’s bookshelf,” he answered candidly. “The one by the closet - you know, the ones he never reads.”

You nodded slowly, pushing off the counter to walk that way. “Clever,” you replied. Marc was hot on your heels but said nothing else until you retrieved a second bottle of whiskey - same brand - and walked it back to the kitchen.

He assumed you would open the cap and pour it down the drain. He actually wanted you to. But all you did after twisting off the cap was take another long, burning swig. 

Before he could begin to react, you asked, “Are you going to have anymore to drink tonight?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he grabbed the bottle from your hand and finished what he thought you had started. The amber liquid tumbled from the bottle, splashing in the sink and filling the air with its stale tang. 

“What is wrong with you? Shouldn’t you be the one doing this?” He huffed, dropping the empty bottle to join the first, broken one. 

“No, I absolutely should not be the one doing this, Marc,” you evenly responded. “I should not be pouring out the alcohol that you brought into our home. That is not my job.”

“Ah, there it is,” he snapped, his fists clenching as he leaned toward you, ready for a (verbal) fight. “Let’s hear it, then. Tell me how much I fucked up.”

“No.” Your voice was calm and you took a confident but small step backward. It was not a step of fear, but simply a way to diffuse the fight he was apparently expecting. 

“Marc, you’re a grown man. I’m not going to scold you, or lecture you, or tell you what to do. And despite what you may have been expecting, I’m not going to fight with you. If you want to drink, you’re going to drink. There is nothing I can do or say to change that.”

He looked stricken. Were you giving up on him? Tears stung the corners of his eyes before he could stop them. He’d had a lot to drink and his head was starting to pound. If you weren’t even putting up a fight, he must have really screwed everything up.

“A-are you...are you going to leave?” He whispered, physically withdrawing, turning to brace himself on the countertop once more.

“No, baby,” you answered him evenly, confidently. “I will never leave you. Not unless you made it impossible for me to live here with you. But you wouldn’t do that. Ever.” Easing over to him, you gently laid your cheek against his bare back. “I’m your partner. Not your boss, or a god or a parent. We’re a team. If you’re hurt, I’m there with you. I’m here, Marc. I’m here.”

“But I fucked up,” he shook his head sadly, his voice breaking. “All that work, all that fucking work to stay sober and I...”

“Exactly,” you agreed, carefully sliding your arms around him from behind, watching for any sign of physical discomfort from him. “You made a choice tonight and you hate the choice you made. That’s all that matters. You’re the person that you answer to. What you say goes. If you want to do better for someone, it has to be you. Not me, not Steven. You. Nothing I do will ever change that. Nothing I ever say will keep someone from doing what they decide to do.” 

You squeezed him gently. “So no fights from me. No lectures. But I’m not going to baby you either. If we’re going to drink, that’s the way it’s going to be. You and I can accept that reality or a different one. A reality with no drinking. That’s why I took the drink tonight. It’s just a drink. It’s not evil. It doesn’t have a motive. It’s just liquid in a bottle. It’s what you feel right before you drink -that’s what you have to ask yourself, Marc. What happened right then?”

His body seemed to crumple in on itself and he slowly sank down to the cool tile of the kitchen floor, his back pushing up against the cabinets as he shook his head sorrowfully.

“I can’t,” he gasped, tears trailing down his beautiful, moonlit cheeks. Shaking his head despondently, he turned his broken gaze to yours as you joined him on the floor. “I can’t...everything will change now, I just can’t.”

How could he do this to you...to Steven? He was trying so hard to hide everything he’d learned from Steven - that they were not alone in this body. That there was another. And Khonshu. Stupid, fucking Khonshu still had them enslaved. How could he ever tell the two of you? He had only known for two days and it was killing him inside.

“Come here, baby,” you soothed, reaching to pull him into your arms. Something had happened to set him off. You were certain of it now, more than before, and despite your calm demeanor, you were scared.

Your worries both eased and doubled when his body softened in your embrace and a British accent greeted your ears.

“Darling...what’s all this, then?” Steven asked you, nodding to his state of undress and your positions on the hard kitchen floor. 

“Steven,” you breathed, pulling him in for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he sweetly replied, granting you a soft kiss. “You alright, love?” 

Before you could answer, he shook his head slightly, “Bollocks, got a bit of a headache. Has Marc been drinking?”

The look on your face told him everything. 

“Bloody hell,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Two years sober right down the drain.”

Honestly, the sobriety thing, although crushing for him, was not the highest priority right now. Something was wrong with Marc. 

“Steven, let’s go to bed,” you decided, standing up and offering him your hands. 

Several minutes later, you and your fiancé slid under the covers, freshly washed up and ready for bed. 

“Steven,” you softly repeated his name, running your fingertips over his jaw line, the way you had done with Marc earlier. “I love you.”

“I quite love you too, darling,” he sweetly replied, kissing you softly. “Now tell me what’s the matter.”

“Do you...are you aware of anything going on with Marc?” you asked as Steven’s arms slid securely around you. “I think something’s wrong - like big picture wrong. We didn’t have a fight, like - I don’t think the problem is with us. Did something happen?”

Rubbing your back soothingly, Steven answered the best he could. “Not that I know of. Marc has honestly been a bit closed off with me lately. He is somewhat of a quiet bloke from time to time, but...yeah, I’m pretty certain he’s not been exactly an open book these last few days.”

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to think of what could have happened. “I’m sorry for putting you in the middle, my love. I try not to do that, but he was so upset tonight, and the drinking...”

“He..he didn’t upset you, darling? Or...hurt you? Did he?” His warm brown eyes darkened in concern.

“What, Steven, of course not,” you insisted, sitting up in bed. “You two would never hurt me, I know that.”

“Of course, love, but it’s just...” Steven hesitated, sitting up to join you. “Marc isn’t always at his best when he’s been drinking and...when I was holding you, just then, you--you’re trembling.”

It was true. You hadn’t realized it, but you were more upset than you’d realized. 

Letting out a sigh of defeat, you reached for your fiancé, whispering his name pleadingly as you climbed across his lap. Strong arms wrapped around your back, gripping you firmly as he pulled you into his chest. 

“I’ve got you,” he breathed against your lips. “It’s alright, love.”

Feeling so safe in his arms, against his strong body, you pressed your lips against his, your fingers caressing up his neck, into his curls. Your body melted into his embrace as you slid your tongue over his. Admittedly, you were feeling a little desperate and Steven was most likely intoxicated, but it was heavenly to feel him pulling you into him as your tongues tangled, hands grasping to get somehow closer.

You went on like that for a short while, rubbing your body against his, sucking on his tongue the way he loved, fingers threaded through his curls, which made him almost feral. Lurching forward, he tumbled on top of you, ignoring the pounding in his head and running his hands up your bare thighs. 

Despite how wonderful you felt, he paused, touching his forehead to yours for a moment of reprieve. 

“Steven, are you okay?” You managed to whisper between kisses, looping your arms around his neck. “Your head still hurting?” You asked because you could tell he was holding back a little. You had been kissing for a while and his hands had yet to travel underneath your underwear or (Marc’s) oversized white t-shirt. 

Easing his forehead down to your collarbone, Steven pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your chest. “Too much bloody whiskey,” he murmured. “Sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay. Feels good,” you breathed on his ear, which made him shiver.

“Didn’t mean to get too distracted, love,” he conceded, rolling off of you and rubbing his temples. “I know you’re worried about Marc. I am too, if I’m honest.”

There were no answers for you that night. Steven realized quickly that he needed some sleep and the two of you hoped that Marc might be there the next morning to give you some answers.

[rose-lunaire]

Hi!! How you think Hannibal and Will (separate) in a situation where the reader is a nurse and for some reason she finds with them and both falls madly in love with her? Like they follow her, admired her and simply adore her??

brace yourselves, ‘cause it’s gonna be a long one! thank you so much for this idea, i had a great time writing this, enjoy <3

pairing: wiill graham x reader, hannibal lecter x reader

warnings: stalking themes, a lot of blood and inaccurate medical descriptions

(Y/B/T - your blood type)

hannibal lecter

it was a really nasty case, bodies carelessly abandoned in a forest, like a beast haven’t finished feasting on them

by the time hannibal and will arrived, it had already turned into a bloodbath

the culprit, ambushed in his agony, shot at the fbis weakest link: the two consultants

the older man suffered a concussion and wills leg was repeatedly pierced by bullets

it was jack who rushed the to the hospital, knowing damn well it would take hours for any ambulance to arrive

hannibal kept insisting he’s fine, but the policeman was having none of it

he collapsed on the hospital floor

the man woke up to the rhythmic sounds of the operational room: monotone beeping, a clock idly signaling its presence

“you gave us quite the scare, doctor lecter”

a soft timbre brought his closer to consciousness, but an excruciating headache soon followed

torn between slumber and awareness, he groaned quietly

“doctor lecter? can you hear me, doctor lecter?”

the voice soothed his aching body, poured life and yearning into his soul

he squinted his eyes, as from a blur of white light came to life an angel

hair of raphael’s venus, rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes worthy of rubens’s paintbrush, steady and powerful pose of velasquez’s infants

they were perfect like doryphoros or artemis of versailles, sculpted by apollonius himself

the stoic warmth radiating from their eyes couldn’t compare to debussy’s finest works

hannibal felt the sudden urge to take this light with him and never let go

to protect and worship it like gods of ancient times

his killings are not in vain, they are a token of adoration, a promise for a better world

for them

for so the angel wouldn’t have to suffer existing in between such impure souls

he’s always on the lookout for any people in their environment who might have foul intentions

he’s eternally great full to have met them and shows his feelings in subtle ways, like leaving home-cooked meals for them, a note full of gratitude always attached to the gift

he once used his connections to move them to a different department, so that they wouldn’t have to work so hard

they’re his muse, his god(ddes) and he’s just a lowly apostle

he wouldn’t dare bring them into his world, it was too cruel, too dangerous for such a radiant creature

but believe me, he’s always there, a loyal knight guarding their safety and happiness

will graham

he was losing a lot of blood

one of the bullets came through his leg, cutting through his aorta and no amount of pressure could stop the bleeding

his mind was getting fuzzy, but still stuck in painful awareness

he remembered having been sat on a bed, the sting of a needle and helplessness in the voice of a surgeon

“we don’t have enough type y/b/t blood for the operation”

as the anesthesia was wearing out, will felt an unfamiliar presence next to him

calm and unsuspecting, a nurse was sleeping in the corner of the operation room

he finds himself attached to a blood transfusion set

will rested his head in his hands, tired and almost ashamed

the nurse had their sleeve harshly tugged on the forearm with a welt straining their delicate skin

he perceives himself as repulsive and unworthy, yet they gave up their own blood without any hesitation

he’s deeply moved by their dedication

he can’t seem to draw his eyes away

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to stare” - he panicked

“don’t worry about it”

they were graceful even in exhaustion, it send chills down wills spine

maybe it was a crease they a smile painted on their face or the eyes scrunched in kindness and warmth, he didn’t know but in that moment he fell in love

he would ask a million questions about the equipment and the surgery, then their daily life and work

it brought him peace and reassurance and the conversation seemed to flow naturally for hours

after he left the hospital, he often called them

a confusing wound? he calls. a drug found on the scene? he calls. hannibal is hosting a dinner party? he calls every time

his heart is desperate for closure and they provided it, never asking questions, just being there for him

there was one time when a dog got severe diarrhea and vomited a lot, and will was scared it may be parvo or other dangerous dog disease

he called almost immediately, for help and comfort of his favorite person

after this incident he became paranoid when they weren’t around, so he does everything in his power to keep them at arms length

will means no harm, but he simply can’t imagine his life without them

[justabigassnerd]

Unexpected Bond

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 7,340

Warnings - inaccurate police stuff, injuries, blood, knives, hospitals, swearing, mentions of being harassed/made uncomfortable

Summary - while on patrol, Lucy and Tim help an injured teen and while tracking down her attacker, Tim finds out he has a protective, paternal side

Sequel - 'A Safe Home'

A/N - hey y'all! I know it's been a hot while since I wrote anything and I'm so truly sorry for that. but in binging The Rookie, I found myself wanting to write something for Tim Bradford and so this came to light and so I'm posting it as a test (a Tim Test if you will) to kinda gauge how y'all feel about me writing for a new fandom (again still not finished the show so please don't spoil). As per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sun was shining in Los Angeles as Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen drove around on patrol, eyes ever so often flicking around in search of illegal activity.

“Come on, you’re seriously not going to let me put the AC on? It’s so hot.” Lucy complains, fighting the urge to stick her head out of the window to get some relief from the sweltering heat inside the shop.

“You know the rules, Boot,” Tim says, sparing Lucy a brief side eye before focusing back on the road. Lucy lets out a slight huff, mentally reminding herself of how much longer she has to obey Tim’s rules before she becomes a P2. Before Lucy could open her mouth to reply in a last-ditch effort to convince Tim to put the AC on, a woman runs out of the nearby park, arms waving wildly and calling out towards the police cruiser.

“We need help!” At the woman’s yells, Tim pulls over, both him and Lucy getting out of the shop as soon as the engine has been turned off before hurrying over to the woman.

“What’s the problem?” Tim asks, a neutral and level tone to his voice to not cause any more panic. In response, the woman begins leading Tim and Lucy into the park, going on a tangent about how she’d been on her morning jog when she stumbled across something she thought was suspicious at first. One glance at Tim and Lucy could tell his patience was wearing thin with the woman skirting around the issue.

“Ma’am, what did you find?” Lucy asks, already bracing herself for what she might find.

“I found this teenage girl curled up on the bench. I thought she was a junkie or homeless so I went to try and move her or something but… she’s bleeding.” The woman says, pointing out the teenage girl curled up on the bench, hand clamped on her side.

“Chen, radio for help.” Tim orders, grabbing his gloves and pulling them on as he approaches the bench, kneeling alongside it while he assesses the damage as best he can.

“Hey kid, can you hear me?” Tim tries, looking from the wound to your face, trying to see how responsive you are. He could tell your breathing was laboured and shallow so all he wanted to do now was treat the wound as best he could and keep you conscious. As Tim gently moves your hand away from your injury, you let out a slight moan of pain, attempting to curl further into yourself.

“I know. I’m sorry. I need to try and slow the bleeding.” Tim apologises softly, hand clamping down on your wound, bunching up the material of your shirt to act as a barrier to prevent any further blood loss. When you groaned in pain once more and blindly swatted at his hand, Tim used his teeth to pull the glove off his spare hand, dropping it on the floor and grabbing your flailing hand in his.

“Okay kid, just squeeze my hand when it hurts. Sound good?” Tim says, getting your response, squeezing his hand tightly, whimpering quietly. Since his plan to try and get you to talk to him wasn't working, though he could only blame the blood loss, he needed to do what he could to ensure you stayed conscious.

“Ambulance is on its way, ETA two minutes,” Lucy says, approaching Tim and watching as he tends to your wound.

“Can you make sure no one crowds around? Paramedics will need quick and easy access and it won’t be easy with these guys watching like it’s a damn circus. But if there is anyone who might know what happened, get a statement.” Tim mutters, aware of the forming crowd, phones in hand as they document the event like they were at a concert. With a nod, Lucy steps back and approaches the crowd, letting them know that the situation is being handled and that they need to get back to their own business.

After a couple of minutes, the ambulance pulls up, and the paramedics soon appear alongside Tim.

“She’s been bleeding since we found her and even before that. From the looks of things, it might be some kind of stab wound. She’s been virtually unresponsive besides squeezing my hand and making a few sounds. She’s definitely out of it because of the blood loss so she needs urgent attention.” Tim says, doing his best to explain the situation with the limited knowledge he had.

“Okay, we’ve got it from here.” One of the paramedics says, easing himself down alongside Tim to assess the damage. Tim carefully moved his hand away from the wound to let the paramedic get to work. As Tim moves to gently release your hand he feels you squeeze tighter as the paramedic begins to place a bandage over your wound to prevent further blood loss until you make it to the hospital.

“I’ve got to let go kid. The paramedics need to do their job.” Tim whispers, a softness to his tone that not many get to hear. At his words, your grip loosened enough for Tim to gently extract his hand before he stepped back, allowing the paramedics to get on with their job while he crossed to Lucy.

“Did anyone see anything?” Tim asks, standing in front of Lucy as he folds his arms and glances around.

“Nothing concrete. Most people around only saw her after she collapsed.” Lucy says defeatedly, closing her notebook and tucking her pen away.

“We’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital. Stick around until the kid’s in the clear and see if we can get a statement.” Tim says with a nod, already beginning to turn around and head back in the direction of their shop with Lucy hot on his heels, radioing control to let them know what they’re going to be doing. Once they get in the vehicle, Tim begins the drive to the hospital fighting the urge to speed the entire way.

To Lucy, it felt like they had gotten to the hospital in record time and she was nearly bursting at the seams to make a light joke about it to Tim but she also didn’t feel like being on the end of a death glare or being made to walk outside the shop while Tim drives. The two enter the hospital and after Tim questions a nurse about the teen girl just brought in, they’re given directions to the ward you’d be in and that you are currently being prepped for minor surgery to control any internal bleeding and Lucy didn’t miss the flash of worry that covered Tim’s face at the mere mention of surgery. The two made their way to where they had been directed and once they reached the waiting room, Lucy took a seat while Tim played the pacing game. Lucy could’ve sworn that Tim pestered the nurses almost a hundred times a minute about any updates regarding your surgery.

“Tim, they’ll let us know when we’re able to try and get a statement from her,” Lucy says, glancing up at Tim as he strides past her once more, stopping him in his tracks.

“I know that. I’m just… worried. Seeing a kid hurt is never easy. I just want to find out who did this to her so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Tim says with a sigh, head bowing slightly before glancing over at Lucy who softens a little at her TO’s words. She knew he wasn’t always the hard-ass he presented himself to be in the station, but seeing him so worried about a teenager’s wellbeing was like seeing a whole new side to him. Before Lucy could speak once more, a nurse approached the two, making Lucy get up from her seat.

“Thank you for your patience officers. The surgery has gone smoothly and we’re transferring her to a room now. There will be a bit more of a wait until she comes around before a doctor will assess whether she’s in a good enough condition to be questioned. You’re free to continue your patrol if you wish and we can contact you when she’s ready.” The nurse says, addressing both Lucy and Tim who glance at each other after the nurse has finished talking.

“I think we’ll stick around, thanks,” Tim says with a polite yet curt nod towards the nurse, watching as she walks off before turning to face Lucy.

“What if we’re needed? We can be helping out on the streets and just wait for a call from the hospital before coming back to get a statement.” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim with a shocked and confused expression.

“Who’s in charge here, Boot? If they need us, they’ll radio us. For now, I’d rather wait here, get the kid's statement and stop this guy before another kid gets hurt.” Tim says firmly, resuming his pacing as Lucy sinks back into the uncomfortable waiting room chair, pulling out her phone and texting Jackson in the hope he’ll be able to respond.

After an hour and a half of Tim pacing back and forth and Lucy flipping between texting Jackson and scrolling through various social media, a nurse approaches the two again, stopping Tim in his tracks while Lucy shoves her phone in her pocket and stands up.

“She’s come around and the doctors have cleared her for you to take a statement. However, I will warn you she hasn’t been the most talkative so I don’t know how easy it’ll be to get anything out of her.” The nurse says, leading Tim and Lucy towards the room you have been moved to for recovery.

“Thank you. We’ve got it from here.” Tim says, reaching for the door handle to enter the room.

“Oh, one last thing. We haven’t managed to get a name out of her yet so if you manage to do that please let us know so we can contact whoever necessary.” The nurse quickly adds, making both Tim and Lucy nod before Tim pulls the door open and enters the room with Lucy close behind.

“Hey, kid. I’m Officer Tim Bradford and this is Officer Lucy Chen. We were the first responders on sight when you were found in the park.” Tim introduced both himself and Lucy, noting how shy and withdrawn you looked and made sure to take a gentler approach.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you guys…” You mumble sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as your gaze flicks down to your hands to avoid eye contact. Truthfully, you had recognised Tim’s voice the second he started speaking. You don’t think you could ever forget a voice that made you feel so safe in the most terrifying moment of your life.

“Don’t apologise. You suffered a lot of blood loss so it’s understandable that you don’t remember everything. We’ve shared our names, can we get yours?” Tim asks, watching you quietly as you nod.

“It’s y/n. y/n l/n.” You say quietly, briefly glancing up at the two officers, noticing how Lucy noted down your name.

“Have you got any family we can contact?” Lucy asks, looking from her notebook to you as you shake your head.

“No family.” You admit, feeling heat creeping into your cheek as your gaze dropped once more and both Tim and Lucy exchanged a look at your admission.

“So, are you in a children’s home then?” Tim asks, fighting the urge not to frown when you nod your head, confirming his suspicions.

“If you could even call it that.” You mutter, causing Lucy to smoothly change the subject.

“Is there anything you can tell us about who stabbed you?” She asks, both officers noticing how your hand came to rest atop where your injury was.

“I didn’t see a face, he had a hood covering his face. It was the early hours of the morning and all I remember was a guy grabbing me and then the next thing I knew I was stabbed.” You explain, feeling useless that you couldn’t provide more to help.

“And did the stabbing happen in the park? Where we found you?” Tim enquires further, wanting to put together as many details as possible.

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t been sleeping so well recently so I sneak out and go on walks in the morning to energise myself enough to get through the day. I don’t have a specific route on these walks so maybe… I don’t know.” You say, sighing lightly as you rack your brain for any memory of what happened to you.

“Maybe what?” Tim prods gently, wanting to get as much information as possible.

“The home I’m in really isn’t the best. Most of the kids there end up as drug dealers or in gangs. Maybe I walked onto some gang territory without realising it or maybe I stumbled across something I shouldn’t have I don’t know.” You mumble, trying to make sense of all the information in your head.

“Are you part of any gangs?” Lucy asks, not wanting to sound accusatory but needing an answer.

“No. Not at all. I’m probably the only teenager there who doesn’t get involved in any of that stuff.” You quickly clarify, shaking your head to exaggerate your point.

“But… I’m not the most popular kid in the home either. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the kids tell their gang members it’s okay to mess with me.” You continue with a shrug, making Tim’s heart hurt at how small and defeated you look.

“Is there anything else you can remember from the stabbing? Anything that could help us identify your attacker?” Tim asks, folding his arms across his chest as he speaks.

“The guy said something, I can’t remember what. But he did have a crazy deep voice. I didn’t know someone could have a voice that deep. I’d probably be able to recognise his voice if I heard it again.” You recall, feeling like you’re scraping the barrel of your knowledge of what happened. At your words, Tim unfolds his arms, digging into his pocket for his card and crossing the room to hold the card out towards you.

“Thank you for your help. If you remember anything else feel free to give us a call.” Tim says with a soft smile, watching as you carefully extract the card from his hand, flipping it over a couple of times and studying the words on it as you nod lightly. As Tim and Lucy move to leave your hospital room you speak up.

“Officers. Thank you… for saving me.” You say, nervousness gripping your stomach as you talk. You knew you had nothing to feel nervous about, after all, they had saved your life.

“No need to thank us, kid. Just focus on getting better.” Tim says with a nod while Lucy bids you a soft goodbye before they both exit your hospital room.

“Okay, Chen we’re going to find out what home y/n is in and then we should scope out the area. Find out what we can about the kids that are in gangs.” Tim says as the two make their way through the hospital.

“And hopefully find someone with a deep enough voice that y/n recognises,” Lucy adds as they both get into the shop.

“I’m hoping we can track the guy down ourselves. I’d rather not have to drag the kid into this if I can help it.” Tim says, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking spot while Lucy busies herself with trying to find out what children's home you’re in. At Tim’s protective words, Lucy raises an eyebrow and smirks lightly.

“So all that talk about me adopting a puppy and you’ve gotten yourself one of your own.” She muses jokingly, watching as Tim glances at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“I did not adopt a puppy. This is a kid who was hurt and there’s a chance she could get hurt again if we don’t do something about it soon. I want to catch the guy who did this to her and get her someplace safe if this home is as bad as she’s making it out to be. You, however, felt bad for someone who stole your car.” Tim defends, trying not to let on how worried he truly is about you. Lucy, unconvinced by his words, nods and focuses her attention back to the computer. 

“We’ve got a location of the home. Let’s head over there.” Lucy reports, giving Tim the address and beginning to do further background research as Tim begins driving in the direction of the children’s home. The drive didn’t take long from the park where they had found you and as they neared, both Tim and Lucy began to understand why you had said it wasn’t a good home.

The children’s home was located in a run-down area, just one look around the neighbourhood and anyone could tell that crime thrives in it. Just the mere presence of Tim and Lucy was already garnering them weird looks as they parked outside of the children’s home and exited their shop, crossing to the front door and knocking on it before taking a step back to wait for someone to open the door.

“What do you want?” The door is thrown open and Tim comes face to face with a short man who quickly notices Tim and Lucy’s uniforms and straightens up.

“Sorry. What can I do for you officers?” He amends his words, painting on a large smile that anyone could tell was fake.

“I’m Officer Bradford and this is Officer Chen. May we come in?” Tim asks, already beginning to make his way towards the door as the man holds it open to allow them both in.

“Let’s talk in my office. I’m Stan.” He introduces himself and leads the two towards his office, a small murky room piled high with paperwork.

“A teenager who is in your care, y/n l/n, was found stabbed in the park not too far from here. Do you have any idea who might’ve done this to her?” Lucy begins as Stan takes his seat behind his desk.

“y/n was stabbed? That’s a real shame.” Stan says, making Tim cock an eyebrow at his faux sincerity.

“She’s in the hospital recovering from her injuries. Again, do you know of anyone who might like to hurt her? She mentioned that a lot of the kids around here wind up involved with gangs. Do any of them have reason to hurt her?” Tim asks, watching as Stan shrugs lightly.

“If I’m honest, the kid was an easy target. She’s been here since she was practically a baby so being the longest-running kid in the home is bound to put a little bit of a target on your back.” Stan says nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair while Lucy notices Tim clench his jaw.

“So you’re telling us you allowed those kids to pick on her just because she was an ‘easy target’ in your eyes?” Lucy asks, hoping that somehow she was wrong in how she interpreted Stan’s words.

“I know who those kids hang out with. I’m not looking to put myself in the line of fire for her.” At Stan’s words, Tim was unable to hold himself back from an outburst.

“You willingly let kids bully y/n because you were scared of the company they keep? Maybe they wouldn’t go out running around in gangs if you looked after the kids that are supposed to be in your care.” Tim says lowly, edging closer to the desk and bracing his hands on it, leaning closer to Stan to get his point across.

“Tim, let’s not do this. Stan, if you think of anything that might help us find y/n’s attacker, give us a call.” Lucy says, gently guiding Tim away from the desk before placing a card down on the desk and leading Tim out of the building.

“y/n is not going back there. I won’t let her.” Tim says the moment they leave the home, practically seething with rage as he makes his way back to the shop.

“I know this home clearly has some serious issues but you won’t be able to just up and move her as easily as you might think,” Lucy says, getting into the vehicle as Tim starts the engine.

“I’ll find a way. I’ll find the ass that hurt her. Find a way to prove Stan doesn’t give a shit about the kids in his care and then I’ll make sure y/n has someplace safe to go to once she’s out of hospital.” Tim says as if he held all the answers in his newly formed plan.

“Okay, you’re getting worked up about this so let’s take lunch and talk this all through. We’ll try and come up with a game plan to find the guy who hurt y/n and after that, we’ll tackle the other problem.” Lucy says calmly, doing what she can to make sure Tim relaxes, knowing he couldn’t go around the neighbourhood with this attitude. At her words, Tim lets out a long sigh before nodding and beginning to drive in the direction of someplace to get food.

After finding a place to have some lunch, Lucy and Tim sit down opposite each other and begin to talk through the minimal facts they have about the case so far.

“She was stabbed in the morning, I’d assume maybe an hour or so before we found her.” Lucy starts, consulting her notebook.

“But she wasn’t stabbed at the park so we can assume she walked from where she was stabbed to the park. Maybe she was looking for help.” Tim says, lifting his drink to take a sip.

“We could radio the unit that arrived on scene after we left and see if there are any blood trails that might help us find where the stabbing happened. Maybe the attacker tried to ditch the weapon nearby.” Lucy muses, leaning back against her chair as she thinks.

“If it’s a gang member I doubt they’d be stupid enough to leave the weapon nearby. But then again there’s always the chance so it might be worth a try.” Tim admits, finishing his food and downing his drink while Lucy does the same. As they dispose of their trash, Tim’s phone rings, making him dig it out of his pocket to answer it while Lucy waits.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Officer Bradford, is that you?” Your quiet voice comes through the other end of the phone, timid as if you were afraid of bothering him.

“y/n, is everything okay?” Tim asks, an instant bout of worry gripping him.

“I’m sorry if I called at a bad time I just… I remembered something about the attack and I don’t know if it’ll help.” You say, and Tim can hear the worry and fear in your voice of potentially being an inconvenience to him.

“No, you’re fine. I’ll swing by the hospital and you can tell me about what it is you remember. Does that sound good?” Tim says gently, doing his best to reassure you over the phone.

“Okay.” You whisper before hanging up the phone and leaving Tim to turn to Lucy.

“Was that y/n?” Lucy asks, studying Tim’s reaction carefully.

“Yeah. She said she remembered some stuff about the attack.” Tim says, shoving his phone in his pocket and making his way towards the shop while Lucy follows behind.

“Do you think this information will help us find her attacker?” Lucy asks as she gets in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to pressure her. But we’ll do what we can with it.” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive, once again, to the hospital.

When they arrived at the hospital, they headed straight to the room you were in and knocked on the door before letting themselves in upon receiving your permission.

“You came.” You said, the smallest, shy smile on your face when you realised that they had come when you asked and both officers had noticed the notebook and pencil you had in hand.

“Of course,” Tim says with a nod and a gentle smile.

“You like drawing?” Lucy asks gently, moving to sit on one of the nearby chairs, easing herself down gently as you shake your head lightly.

“Not really. I just remembered one detail about the guy who attacked me and I figured it would be best if I try to draw it.” You admit, attempting to tidy up the rough sketch on the paper.

“What was the detail?” Tim then asks, easing down into the other chair as they both watch you quietly.

“The guy who attacked me had a scar that looked like this on his hand.” You say, flipping the paper around and showing it to Tim and Lucy.

“That looks like…” Lucy begins.

“A brand.” Tim finishes, glancing from the paper to you as you nod.

“There’s a kid in the home I’m in, Kevin, he’s always acted really weird around me and even asked me out a few times despite knowing how uncomfortable he makes me. I know he’s part of this gang and all the members are branded somewhere on their bodies. I know Kevin definitely wasn’t the guy who stabbed me but I think he asked one of the other members of his gang to hurt me.” You explain as Lucy takes the sketch from you, studying it closely.

“This Kevin, has he ever threatened to hurt you to your face?” Tim asks, already fighting back the seething rage beginning to build up.

“Never outright. But the last time I rejected him he did tell me that I’d regret it.” You say, remembering that moment from a couple of nights ago.

“And did he ever… do anything else?” Tim enquires further, hoping for a specific answer while preparing himself for the worst.

“No. I don’t know if he ever would’ve tried anything, but growing up in that home meant I knew where all the best places to lay low were when he did get extra clingy. And I also try to spend as much time out of the home and away from that neighbourhood as possible.” You explain, fiddling with the corner of the cover laid across you.

“So you believe he told a member of that gang to hurt you because you wouldn’t date him?” Lucy clarifies, feeling her heart break when you nod.

“Okay, we’re going to try to find that kid and talk to him about this gang of his,” Tim states, moving to stand up and exit the room with Lucy following behind.

“Wait!” Your desperate cry stops Tim in his tracks, making him turn to face you.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks, worried as to why you had reacted like that.

“Don’t tell Kevin or anyone I told you about this. If they find out I squealed… I don’t know what they’ll do to me.” You say, vaguely hearing the increased beeping coming from the heart monitor in your panicked state.

“Hey, y/n, take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Tim quickly strides across the room to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and getting you to look up at him. He takes a few exaggerated deep breaths which you mimic shakily, each breath coming smoother than the last until you’ve regained control of your breathing and your heartbeat has begun to settle into a steady rhythm once more.

“That’s it, kid, just like that.” Tim then praises gently as he feels the tension leaving your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze before releasing his grip. As Tim lets go, you lift your hand to wipe at your suddenly watery eyes, trying not to flinch at the slight pain from the movement.

“We won’t tell anyone there about what you told us. I promise.” Lucy says, knowing that the number one rule of being a police officer was that they couldn’t promise anything but seeing how Tim nodded lightly in agreement confirmed that this was one promise that they could make.

“We’ll go and try and find information. But we won’t mention you at all. They won’t know you told us. Promise.” Tim assures you, stepping back and joining Lucy by the door.

“Hang tight, y/n. We’ll stop that guy.” Lucy says with a soft smile, folding up the sketch she still had in hand and putting it in her pocket with your permission before both she and Tim exit your hospital room, making their way back to their shop to go in search of further answers. They make their way back to the neighbourhood of the children’s home and instead of heading to the children’s home, they do a walk around the area, both of them noticing how people watch them carefully, wary of what they might do.

“Someone around here has to be a part of that gang y/n was talking about, right?” Lucy asks quietly, walking alongside Tim as they observe their surroundings.

“I’d put money on it. But we can’t exactly go up to them and ask. We have to be subtle.” Tim says, noticing how they were beginning to approach two teenage boys who were leaning against a wall, talking amongst themselves.

“Don’t usually get cops around here.” One of the teenagers says, loud enough for Tim and Lucy to hear, making them exchange a quick look before they turn to face the teens.

“We’re patrolling the area. Got a problem?” Tim accuses, folding his arms across his chest as he stares down at the two teenagers.

“Patrolling for what?” The other asks, both of them clearly unafraid of Tim and Lucy’s presence.

“There’s been some incidents around here and we just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Lucy lies easily, hands resting on her belt as her eyes flick between the two boys.

“Are you accusing us of what happened with that bitch this morning?” One of the teens suddenly becomes accusatory, making Lucy raise her eyebrows in slight shock at the tone.

“No one’s accusing you of anything. In fact, neither of us mentioned an incident this morning. Is there anything you can tell us about it?” Tim then asks cooly, noticing how the teens twitch a little in their realisation about being caught out.

“It wasn’t us.” One of them says, instantly on the defensive, his voice harsh.

“We’re not saying it is you. We’re simply asking if you know anything.” Lucy says, holding a hand out to try and calm the tension she could sense building.

“We don’t know anything.” The other teen says, both of them then turning on their heels and stalking off somewhere else.

“As suspicious as that was. They didn’t do it.” Tim states, letting out a soft sigh and watching them walk away.

“Neither of them had a deep voice. At least not one matching y/n’s description. But did you see-”

“One of them had the brand on his arm. We’re definitely in the right place.” Tim finishes, eyes flicking around the streets in search of other people to question.

“Can I help you, officers? I’m Toby.” A deep voice comes from behind Tim and Lucy, making them exchange a look before they turn to face the owner of the voice. They quickly came face to face with someone who looked to be in his early twenties, he was not much shorter than Tim and they could only assume he did a lot of heavy lifting with how he was built.

“There was a stabbing this morning. A girl about fifteen years old was the victim. Do you know anything about it?” Tim asks smoothly, not showing any signs of suspicion as he watches Toby’s reaction.

“A stabbing? I haven’t heard anything about it.” He says, shrugging lightly before folding his arms across his chest, displaying the brand that you had described on his hand.

“Nothing at all?” Lucy prompts, glancing from Toby to Tim who nods the slightest amount.

“Nothing.” Toby confirms.

“That’s funny. We did some investigating and apparently her attacker was part of the same gang with those exact brands. According to some people we spoke to, the attacker had a deep voice and had a branding scar on his hand. Would you like to revise your answer?” Lucy says, staring down Toby whose calm and collected look shifts and soon a knife is being brandished towards the two of them, making Tim grab Lucy’s arm and pull her behind him.

“She should’ve thought twice before she turned down Kevin. The bitch just got what she deserved.” He says angrily, knife pointed directly at Tim to keep them at a distance.

“I think she’s well within her rights to turn someone down if she doesn’t like them,” Tim says calmly, not wanting to aggravate him any more.

“Kevin is my bro and I’ll look out for him like he’s my own family. If that means getting rid of some bitch who won’t date him then that’s what I’ll do.” Toby says, making Tim clench his jaw.

“Alright. I’ve heard enough.” Tim states, fed up and angered by what he’s been hearing. Without warning, Tim lunged forward, grabbing Toby’a wrist, and twisting it until the knife clattered to the floor before pinning his arm behind his back. Tim then pulls his handcuffs out of his belt and handcuffs his hands together while Lucy radios control to let them know of the situation.

“Grab the knife,” Tim instructs Lucy, already pushing Toby towards the shop while Lucy does what she’s asked. The closer they get to the shop, the more Tim becomes aware of the pairs of eyes watching them. He gets Toby into the shop then both Tim and Lucy get into the front seats.

“Are we going to let y/n know we got the guy?” Lucy asks, briefly glancing back at Toby before looking at Tim who nods lightly.

“Once we’ve processed this asshole I’m going to head back over to the hospital and let her know we’ve caught the guy,” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive over to the station.

“That’s good. I think it’ll be good for her to know.” Lucy agrees, nodding slightly and focusing her attention on the passing scenery.

“You’re wasting an awful lot of time focusing on her. What makes her so important?” Toby grumbles from the backseat.

“No one asked for your input. You and that other kid are the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.” Tim says angrily, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to glare at him. The rest of the journey back to the station was relatively quiet, with Toby attempting to speak up every so often, only to be silenced by Tim’s silent glare.

When they made it to the station, Tim and Lucy processed Toby as quickly as possible, practically shoving him into one of the cells the moment they were able to and finish up the paperwork in record time.

“Are you coming with me or not, Boot?” Tim asks, already making his way back towards the shop after finishing processing.

“I’m coming,” Lucy says, rushing to Tim’s side, both of them get back in their shop and make their way back to the hospital. Upon arrival, the hospital seemed much quieter, meaning Tim and Lucy didn’t have to swerve through seas of people to make their way to your room. When they reach your room, they knock once more and enter with permission, both of them smiling at you as they walk in.

“We’ve got some good news,” Lucy says with a smile, noticing how your eyes lit up the slightest bit at her words.

“We apprehended the person who hurt you. He’s not going to get near you again.” Tim says, his smile matching Lucy’s as you smile at their words.

“Thank you.” You whisper, fighting back the threat of teary eyes as the relief sets in.

“We’re just doing our jobs. No need to thank us.” Lucy says softly, approaching the bed and taking your hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m going to open an investigation into the home. See if I can get it closed or something. Or at the very least get you moved somewhere else so you don’t have to deal with that Kevin anymore.” Tim adds, watching as you look from Lucy to him.

“You don’t need to do that.” You start.

“I do. Nothing about that place is safe for you. Even when we do get the okay to arrest Kevin, that home isn’t a stable or safe environment for you. So I want to do what I can to help you out.” Tim says, smoothly cutting you off and stepping closer to your bedside, his gaze soft as he looks down at you.

“I don’t want you guys potentially getting hurt on my behalf.” You mumble, wiping at your eyes with your free hand to prevent any tears from falling.

“Let us worry about ourselves. All you have to do is worry about getting better. We’ll handle everything else.” Tim says reassuringly, his gentle smile calming and encouraging as you take some deep breaths to calm down.

“I owe you both so much.” You say gratefully after you’ve calmed down, smiling shyly at your saviours.

“You don’t owe us anything. We were just doing our jobs.” Lucy says softly, her smile still as gentle as ever. The three of you continued to converse for a few more minutes, both Tim and Lucy noticing how you became more confident in talking to them, but Lucy had noticed how you were more comfortable with Tim. And she hadn’t missed how Tim had practically switched into a whole new man around you. He was much softer and fatherly towards you. After a few minutes, Tim notices the time on his watch and sighs lightly.

“We should head out,” Tim says regrettably, glancing over at Lucy who nods softly.

“Look after yourself y/n,” Lucy says as they cross to the door.

“If I don’t die of boredom first. There’s nothing to do here.” You say with a light chuckle, lying back in the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’m sure if you ask a nurse they could find you something to do.” Tim says apologetically, offering the best solution he could think of at the moment before both he and Lucy bid you goodbye and head out to finish the rest of their shifts.

The rest of their shift went smoothly, the only crimes they encountered being things like reckless driving and noise complaints. By the time they had made it back to the station for the end of their shift, Tim wanted to input his request for an investigation into the children’s home you had spent your life in. He wasn’t usually picky about which detectives might take his investigation requests but he wanted to make sure Angela picked up this case. He knew she’d keep him in the loop and let him help out if he wanted. After talking to Angela and getting her on board with looking into the home, Tim thanked her and then headed out to his truck.

On his way back to his house, Tim drove past a store, pulled into the car park and found someplace to park after remembering he needed to pick up a few things. He entered the store, grabbing the things he needed before stumbling across a book aisle in the store. He stood in front of the aisle for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh, digging into his pocket for his phone and stepping into the aisle.

Unbeknownst to Tim, Lucy had also entered the store five minutes after he did, not even aware that Tim was there. She browsed the aisles, searching for what she and Jackson needed until she also found herself by the book aisle. She looked up the aisle and saw Tim standing in front of a selection of books. One hand holding a book, the other holding his phone as he studied the screen intently.

“Looking for book recommendations?” Lucy asks, chuckling to herself when Tim jumps, head whipping around and visibly relaxing upon realising it is Lucy talking to him.

“I was just- y/n mentioned she was bored so I thought I’d grab her a couple of books to give her tomorrow so she can pass the time until she’s out of the hospital,” Tim says, showing Lucy his phone and how he’d been looking up popular books for your age group to pick out the best ones for you.

“Here, let me help.” Lucy offers, taking the book from Tim’s hand, inspecting it quietly before nodding and putting it in Tim’s basket before plucking another book off the shelf, and handing it to Tim to judge after reading the blurb herself.

“You know… you could foster y/n if you wanted.” Lucy says softly after Tim puts the book back, and grabs another to look at.

“What?” Tim asks, no anger behind his voice, but confusion.

“You’re really good with her. It’s clear you care about her and she’s comfortable with you. Fostering her would keep her out of the home while the investigation is ongoing. Plus it would keep her safe and away from that neighbourhood.” Lucy explains herself, watching as Tim falls silent, putting the book he had in his hand in his basket.

“I don’t know. My career isn’t the safest thing in the world and I don’t want someone to potentially use her to get to me.” Tim explains with a sigh.

“I get that. It’s your choice. But she definitely feels safer with you than anyone else.” Lucy says softly, offering Tim one last book before turning on her heels to make her way through the rest of the store, leaving Tim alone.

When Tim gets home, he’s greeted by Kojo who rushes over to Tim happily, demanding to get attention which Tim is more than happy to provide. Once Kojo trots off, happy to entertain himself while Tim unpacks the things he bought. As he unpacks, he sets aside the two books he and Lucy had picked out for you, as well as a few packets of candy and chocolates. Tim was sure he was going overboard but he wanted to make sure that what was left of your hospital stay was pleasant.

After organising everything, Tim makes himself dinner, making sure to feed Kojo while he waits for his food to cook. Once his food is ready, Tim sits himself down to eat and watch the football game he’d been waiting to watch all day. However, as he watched the game, he found himself distracted by the option Lucy had brought up to him at the store. He knew she was right, he couldn’t deny how much he had come to care for you in a short period of time. But he also didn’t want to risk bringing more harm to you through his job. Tim’s focus on the football game began to dwindle as he debated the idea of fostering you back and forth in his head. As if he could sense Tim’s dilemma, Kojo approached Tim, hopping up onto the sofa and resting his head on Tim’s leg, letting out a soft whine while Tim pets his head. Eventually, Tim concluded his internal debate as he was putting his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Upon finally concluding, Tim grabbed his laptop and returned to the sofa, settling down alongside Kojo once more, opening it and typing in one simple question.

‘How to foster a child?’

[butter1knife]

INCOMING HORRIBLY IMPORTED

I’m sorry if it’s blurry, y’all don’t get premium access /j

I been wanting to insert the idiots to this sound, especially when they are in every alternative universe together, funny asf if I added Zib haha L !

Got some stuff inaccurate but erm I rushed this cause I knew I was gonna begin procrastinating

ANYWAYS VALENTINES POST ON ITS WAY SO STAY TUNE…

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

Imagine the streaming series true crime doc about the "Butcher of Baltimore". The Moriyamas are fine with it cause it mostly leaves them out of the story, the doc makes it sound like Nathan and his evil henchmen were independent criminals and not acting for the Moriyamas, and pins the majority of the crimes done by them on Nathan leaving out that he was often acting on their behalf. And paints the narrative they want. The only mention of the Moriyamas is that Tetsuji wanted Neil to join the Ravens when he was a kid because he saw potential in this talented child and if he had been able to he could have "protected this poor child from his monsterous father" (queue the Moriyamas positioning themselves as brave, kind and generous) but Neils mother ran off with him before the "kind and generous" offer could be finalized cause Neil and Mary had had enough of Nathans abuse (and not cause the Moriyamas were gonna buy Neil as property as well). The FBI are happy with the doc cause it's copaganda that makes them look great and competent, the good guys beating an uncomplicated villain (to be clear Nathan is an uncomplicated villain but the FBI are NOT the good guys), the Hardfords are totally absent from the series.

Neil Josten starts trending cause even non exy fans are FACINATED and the press is lapping it up.

It becomes one of the top streamed docs cause the details are so lurid and horrific and the fact that the son of the Butcher is on his way to being a sport celeb.

Neil was contacted by the true crimes doc but he refused to participate.

He hates the inaccurate way they portray his mom as someone who had no idea of the kind of monster she married until it was too late who was fleeing from her horrible husband who she had "loved" for her and her sons safety (ignoring that it was an arranged marriage between crime families and her hands are as bloody as any other gangster. It also ignores that she was abusive and imperfect too and makes her the perfect victim. The only accuracy was that she wanted Neil alive.

Coach Hernandez was contacted too but he refused to participate, though a bunch of other Millport teachers and former students/ teammates happily jump on board. Sadly some Palmetto staff and students do as well and other teams who've faced the Foxes do as well (not the Ravens [too risky] or the Trojans[to honorable])

The Foxes REFUSED to participate and they also REFUSED to watch this tripe and shut down anyone who tries to talk to them about it.

Also the only real accurate bit of the documentary is Neil's ordeal in Baltimore and its cause it's taken from his confession. Queue people gaping at Neil for the next few weeks knowing what the poor guy had to endure

[kalimsgirlfriend]

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺

chars; Elizabeth Liones, King, Diane, Arthur

genre; just pure fluff

A/N; just simple hc’s, i might not be too good at capturing their characters though so im sorry if its inaccurate :)

Elizabeth

my sweet girl :(

she’s always been very kind, and you were no exception as, in Elizabeth’s eyes, everyone deserves love.

due to the amount of time she spends at the boar hat, working as a waitress, sometimes it tires her, and on this particular day, she tired herself out a little too much

upon noticing, you decided to swoop in and help her, after all, she’s always been there for you in times where you needed someone so the least you can do is repay the favor, right?

when you managed to sneak off with Elizabeth, you took her outside to get some fresh air, poor girl was working so hard as of late and you felt bad for her.

when you had sat down next to Elizabeth, she quietly thanked you for your gesture and gave you a smile, a sweet and genuine smile—she’s glad to know that there’s someone so attentive to her and you’re glad to have someone like her around, someone so genuine yet determined, it’s caused you to harbor some love for the princess.

soon though, you’re snapped out of your thoughts when Elizabeth, after a few minutes of silence, asks why you took her outside, genuine curiosity laced within her voice. taken aback by the sudden question, you hesitate a bit before answering her question with honesty, telling her that you love and care for her and would rather she get some rest rather than work herself to exhaustion.

though you couldn’t see her face, Elizabeth’s face flushed lightly at the admission of your love and care for her, as her light blue eyes trail towards you and after gaining her composure, she turns her body towards you, taking your hand in hers and in a happy tone of voice, Elizabeth says, "I love you too!"

King

when King returned to the fairy king’s forest, as a fairy you were shocked. he has been gone for so long and now he comes back? and with two guests too, if you remember correctly they’re called "Jericho" and "Ban" and both of them appeared to be humans.

however that shock turned into pity when you saw your fellow fairies throw rocks at him and reject him as their king—you understood why they acted in such a way, he turned his back on you all in a way but you can’t help but feel bad for him, but this is because you used to be one of his close friends, aside from Helbram.

eventually, you found yourself looking around for him, flying around in search of him after he disappeared into the forest after the fairy’s rejected him, and eventually you found him sitting on a branch, helmet over his head and tears seemed to be running down his cheeks but you can’t see his face.

you landed next to King quietly, not making a single sound as you waited for King to remove the helmet on his head and when he did, he flinched and scrambled back a little, wiping his tears away and speaking in a surprised tone, "(name)?!". out of all the people King would’ve expected to see, he didn’t expect to see his old friend.

when you sat next to King, he didn’t know wether he should scoot closer or allow you to sit at your preferred distance. King would awkwardly fiddle with the sleeves of his sweater, before you eventually broke the silence and asked him why he came back.

"…Ban told me that the forest was restored, and i didn’t believe him so i followed him here." King says, admitting the reason he returned. when he returned to the fairy king’s forest, it was burned down, and when Ban told him that the forest was restored, he didn’t believe him so he followed him only to be shocked that it was indeed restored.

"are you mad at me?" King asks after a bit of silence from his end, looking over at you and praying, hoping to whatever God that you aren’t mad at him or holding grudges against him, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if his only other close friend hated him—not after he just lost Helbram.

but much to King’s surprise, you shook your head, showing that you weren’t mad at him. initially you were but eventually came to terms that he had his own reasons for leaving. however when you tell King that you were only worried about him because you love him and wanted him to be safe, which made his cheeks burn a bright red.

King stared down at the grass below before deciding to eventually reply to you—he’s never been verbally told "i love you" by other people before so this is a first for him, with a slight twinge of shyness in his voice, King eventually replies to you with, "…I love you too, and thank you for worrying about me, i’m glad you’re my friend, (name)."

Diane

you never understood why people were afraid of Diane, yes she’s a giantess but she’s a very sweet and cute one, she can be very fierce whenever she wants to be too and it always upset you whenever someone mistreated her, knowing she would never do the same to them.

when Diane had managed to shrink down after receiving pills from Merlin, you spent your time with her picking out human sized outfits for her to change into and try on—and whenever Diane showed you a new outfit she tried on you always hyped her up, knowing how much she had been yearning for the moment she’d be human sized.

you had also taken Diane around Liones, buying food for her to taste and try out, and she seemed to enjoy all of them—sure, it may have been expensive but you forgot all about how much you spent whenever you saw the look of pure joy on Diane’s face. you were glad you could make her experience so great.

when you both were walking back to the boar hat, you both had decided that she’d be spending the night in your room, to have a girls night, something she had never really had been able to do before because she could never fit into your room. you had insisted on carrying all of Diane’s bags for her, you really didn’t mind, it’s the least you can do for her—the giantess who always saved you whenever you needed it.

you did have to clarify with Meliodas thay Diane will not be working that night, though you did promise to make it up to him eventually. when Diane finally stepped foot into your room for the first time, the first thing she did was lay down on your bed, feeling the comfort of the mattress and bed sheets and you followed shortly after, sitting next to her as she laid on the bed.

"thank you for making today such a great day for me, (name)!" Diane said with a smile, looking up at you, purple eyes showing pure happiness at the moment, and you couldn’t help but return her smile, shaking your head and saying she didn’t need to thank you, that you did it because you love and value her as a friend.

hearing the word "love" fall from your lips had stunned Diane for a second before she sat up and hugged you gently, almost as if, despite no longer being the height of a giantess, she still fears she might hurt you if she holds you too tightly. with Diane hugging you gently, she replied to you without hesitation with an "I love you too! you’re the bestest friend ever, (name)!"

Arthur Pendragon

(i love him so much it’s not even funny, nnt Arthur come home </3)

being the friend of a young king meant you couldn’t see him too often, but Arthur would always do his best to make time for you, his best friend. Arthur cares deeply for you, that much shows when he tries his very best to make sure you stay happy and that he does his best visit you when he’s free of his duties.

you know Arthur as a kind boy, and deep down, you feel as though he’ll be a great king one day, you’ve told him this plenty of times before and every single time, his face flushed a bit red and he seemed flustered. it was always funny to see but to be expected, after all—he was only a young boy at the time so naturally he would grow flustered sometimes when praised, especially by you.

one day, when a spring festival had occurred within Camelot, Arthur had asked you to go with him, as he wants to show you the joy that festivals bring people, and you agreed to go with him, not needing a lot of convincing as he’s your best friend. you had expected only to be tasting the food, watching the people mingle but much to your surprise, Arthur had pulled you onto the dance floor and only then do you realize why he told you to get all dressed up and why Merlin had delivered you new dresses—Arthur had been planning to dance with you all along.

Arthur didn’t seem to be nervous, rather he seemed to be a bit confident in himself as he danced with you in his arms, and you wonder, how long has he been planning this? last time you tried to help Arthur learn to dance, well, he wasn’t exactly the best yet now he seems to be better at dancing, he doesn’t step on your toes nor does he stumble, he seems more balanced and capable when it comes to dancing now.

you seemed to notice that, as he danced he was slowly but surely leading you away from the crowds of people before eventually twirling you into his arms, now somewhere less crowded and more quiet, but you can still faintly hear the music being played by the band from afar. you were about to ask Arthur what he was doing before he grabbed your hands, enveloping them with his own, and he looked at you with a smile.

"i haven’t been making enough time for you lately, (name), and since it’s the anniversary of the day we became friends ten years ago, i thought of dancing with you like how we did all those years ago!" Arthur said with his usual cheery tone, not noticing the slight flush rising against your cheeks—you didn’t expect him to do all this just to celebrate the ten years you two have been friends. you felt flattered, to know someone cared enough to remember when you both became friends.

Arthur did feel a little guilty that he didn’t have enough time to spend with you as of late so he chose to make up for it by setting up the festival and having you dance with him, and Arthur’s face became as red as a tomato when you thanked him, told you how much he means to you and how much you loved him for all he’s done for you.

though shaking his head, snapping out of his flustered state, he offered a boyish grin as his hold on your hands tightened a little, but it didn’t feel painful, in fact it felt gentle but Arthur has always been gentle with you. Arthur has always been waiting for those three words to leave your mouth, and after all that waiting, he was rewarded since that day finally came!

"I love you too, (name)! i’ll always cherish you, okay? don’t forget that!" Arthur said, smile softening slightly and warm gaze set on you, promising to always cherish you. he felt tempted to say more, to say he’ll always be there for you, to say he’ll always protect and love you but Arthur felt that he should save that for another time, after all, you two have a festival to get back to!

that’s it! i hope it was good and hope that my fav isn’t obvious :3 if you want more hcs, feel free to request! i’m open to writing for any fandom :D

[her-satanic-wiles]

Masterlist ⛧ Lost in Translation Masterlist ⛧ Ao3

Words: 13.1k.

Reading Time: 53 min.

Warnings: biting, caught having sex, cheating?, corruption kink, cum eating, cum kink?, creampie, cunnilingus, detailed depression, detailed panic attacks, dry humping, exhibitionism, face sitting, feelings of lonliness/abandonment, low self-esteem, marking, mild mind break, naked woman clothed man, pain kink, poor mental health, primal kink?, public sex, salirophilia, spanking, taint tickling (woohoo!), under the influence?, unprotected sex (wrap the shlang before you bang m’dudes), vaginal sex, worship,

Please note that some of these tags are a smidge inaccurate if you want to talk about specifics, but they’re the closest thing I can think of to give you somewhat of a warning without actually spoiling anything. Like, they’re under the influence but not of drugs or alcohol, and everyone’s consenting but they’re also kind of not in their right mind as well but they’re not under the influence. Like it’s not primal, but it is mind hazy/breaky animalistic in a sense so like? Idk how to tag it. You’ll get it when you read it but if these are triggers for you then I’d recommend just skipping.

Taglist: @zombiesnips-blog @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @ellenokumura @thew0man @sodoswitchimage @the-real-eggplany @deathmimedream @love-is-all-you-need-13 @kadedoesthings @rosyerato @xshadyladyx @popiaswife @perpetratorwithaquill @punkiy50 @onlyhereforghost @kaijukimchi @copiaspet622

As the newly appointed Cardinal Copia struggles with the weight of a looming prophecy, a resilient scholar challenges the narrative, uncovering a conspiracy that reaches beyond the walls of the Ministry. The emergence of a forbidden love ignites a rebellion against a power-hungry Sister, whose thirst for control threatens to reshape the very foundations of the Church. Will the revelation of those schemes lead to liberation or plunge the Ministry into chaos?

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The snake was watching you the whole time, its marble eyes staring into your soul and laying it almost as bare as your physical body. There was no judgment, quite the opposite actually. It was praising you, egging you on as Copia’s hands held your thighs down so he could get at your cunt from beneath you.

Your sodden folds dripped onto his face the more he sucked on your clit, getting wetter and wetter with your arousal and his added saliva. Your hips bucked wildly of their own volition, his tongue dragging across your core as you took your pleasure from his mouth. Your habit had been hiked up to your waist, allowing Copia full access to your core. All the while, your eyes were locked onto the snake, moans echoing throughout the ancient library.

You felt sinfully filthy. The library that was once your private sanctuary away from the stresses of daily life now lay underneath your knees, reverberating your wanton sounds as you traded knowledge for lust. Once again, Copia’s moustache tickling your clit with each thrust of your hips, causing one of your hands to tangle in his locks. Your clit would occasionally hit against his nose as you rubbed yourself against him, crying out ever louder at the feel of his warm breath hitting your core. He was pinned beneath you, there was nowhere he could go so easily - yet there you were, trapping him with your thighs and clasping onto his hair for extra security.

Copia let this happen - he allowed you to jump his bones after the library closed for the night and it was just the two of you. You looked divine anyway, all sleepy and eyes slightly red from the dim light of your office as you’d worked for hours upon hours deciphering that text, starved of any touch from him as all of his advances were met with pleas for concentration. When you locked eyes with him towards the end of the night, after Sibling Riley had dragged you out for some fresh air, you were delirious, ravenous, downright feral - and Copia was rock hard.

He lay on the cold floor, in the shadow of the snake, both hands on you and ignoring his own arousal, dedicating his body to you and you alone. He buried his tongue wherever your desperate cunt would let him, inside your hole, over your taint, sucking on your clit. He was still learning your body, everything that made you tick, everything that made you scream his name so the whole Ministry could hear exactly who was turning you into a filthy animal. The quiet librarian, on her knees in front of Lucifer as the unholy connection between Earth and Hell was at her mercy.

The orgasm you had was so mind-numbingly good, you heard your drool hit the laquered floor beneath you. It was all electric shocks bursting from your cunt and splitting every single one of your nerve endings in half, freezing your body and curling your toes as you were leaking all over your lover’s big nose.

Your body felt numb, like it wouldn’t respond even if you forced it to. Somehow, you weren’t sure how, you remained upright, on your knees and steady. You vaguely registered your habit being lifted over your head and hearing Copia’s groan when he discovered you were bra-less and completely nude for him. You hadn’t heard the zipper of his jeans drop.

You felt your flesh being trapped roughly between his teeth as he bit your ass, your back, your shoulder blade, your neck, and finally your ear. That was taken into his mouth as he pushed into your cunt, already sloppy and and prepped enough for him to just slide all the way in with no resistance. Another groan escaped Copia when he bottomed out, the vibrations of the deep noise standing all your hairs on end.

It had been days without you, despite Copia’s attempts at getting into your pants then having to accept the rejection when he saw how stressed you were over these translations. He had already found himself becoming addicted to you after he entered you for the first time back in London, and the last few days had been damn near punishing without you. Sliding into you felt like the closest to Heaven he’d ever be, and he, too, felt the effects of the snake’s eyes on him. He felt more animalistic in his needs - his mind so clouded that fucking you in the middle of the public library felt like the only thing he ever needed to do.

Every drag of his cock against your walls was heightened by the haze clouding both of your minds, driving you to carnal lust and only that. You were so far gone from your stress and now your relief, that you just couldn’t form sentences at all. Your mind only focussing on the feel of his length ramming into you hard and slow, hitting your cervix with enough force to have your whole body shaking. Copia, on the other hand, was unable to shut up. His words slurring between the Italian expletives and the filth that was spewing from his mouth.

“I can feel you squeezing every time the door rattles, amore. Do you like knowing that someone could walk in and catch you on my cock, hm? The way you’re moaning, I would think you want them to come in and watch. Or is this performance for the Dark One only, amore? Cazzo! You’re so fucking tight for me.”

He smiled at the sound you made in response, a deep chuckle sounding at the back of his throat. His tongue caught between his teeth as he hissed at a particular thrust that felt so, incredibly delicious, he thought he’d go insane. His hands moved to your shoulder blades, situating right in the centre and he pushed you down onto your elbows, moaning at the way your back arched and your ass jiggled with each snap of his hips.

His hand came down and landed on your asscheek, making it jiggle a little more, his lips catching between his teeth as he watched the skin turn redder and redder. You clenched around his cock at the feeling, which only egged him on to do it again.

Slap.

Slap!

By the third one, your clit was dying for attention, and so you reached down and started playing with yourself, your fingers working quickly over the bundle of nerves in the dire need to reach orgasm. Copia’s large hands reached your hips, and pulled on them, gripping them so hard they might bruise. His pace was unforgiving at that point, just taking what he needed from you as you continued to get tighter and tighter around him, closer to orgasm. Your ass ricocheted off of him with each snap of his hips, the sound combining with the stickiness of your cunt and the noises coming from it had Copia’s cock twitched. You were so wet and pliant for him, a good girl using him and letting him use you. He could hardly breathe, and you could feel him all the way up into your stomach.

“Cumming!” That was all the warning you could give before your fingers, frantically stroking at your sensitive clit, had now worked you into your second orgasm of the evening. Your cunt quivered as each wave of your climax hit, sending him into his own. His hips jerked to a stop, each thrust still as rough as the last but slow in their hits, a grunt slipping out of his mouth with each one. His cum poured deep into you, and you were so sensitive you could practically feel it.

But Copia wasn’t done with you yet.

He lay back underneath you, pulling your pussy back down onto his mouth and began licking and sucking away again, your cry so much louder than either of you had anticipated. His tongue worked deep into your core while your hips slid across his face, once again rubbing your clit against his nose. He made short work of your third orgasm, especially with you knowing that he was sucking his own cum out of your messy cunt with such fervour, you were surprised he didn’t want to bury himself deep inside you again and take you one more time. But, once you’d finished shaking, he gave your ass two playful taps before sitting up and pulling you into his arms, both of you kneeling on the cold floor panting and gasping for air, your minds clear and your bodies nude and sweaty from the exertion.

You were the one to break the silence first - not with words, but with laughter. Your body was doing its own thing, trembling in his arms from the adrenaline that was beginning to leave your body, as was your sanity by the sounds of it. Copia pressed kisses over your face, fervent, loving kisses as he rocked you gently. “Are you okay, amore?” He asked, his voice a whisper.

You nodded. Though your brain regained some of the clarity it lost when you first saw Copia, you were still very much fucked out of your head, to the point where you could still feel it spinning. “Sleepy.” You told him simply.

“Non sono sorpreso. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep, eh?”

You chuckled. “Right back at you, Cardinal.”

“You’re right,” he relented easily, rubbing his fingers up and down your arm, “let’s get you dressed and back to my room, hm?”

“Why? So you can ruin me again?” You teased.

“Maybe in the morning.”

Warm light filled the room as the gentle morning light entered through the open drapes. You awoke slowly from a sound sleep, and the unfamiliar surroundings of Copia’s bedroom became clear. There was a wrapping of calm in his private quarters, even with the distant, rhythmic noises of the Ministry humming in the background, the day beginning as usual for everyone there.

With the softness of dawn light on his features, Copia lay alongside you. His dark hair was all over the pillow, and his chest was rising and falling in a pattern that suggested he was sleeping soundly.

Recollections of the previous night surged back as awareness engulfed you. The hours you spent translating the unholy scripture, the pounding you received in front of the Statue of Eden, the jokes you told each other, and the private talks you had in Copia’s chamber felt unreal, but the fact that he was there to support you kept it grounded.

You shifted slightly, careful not to disturb his slumber, and took a moment to observe the details of the room. Curiosity eventually got the better of you, and so, as if you were someone straight out of a movie, you gripped onto one of the blankets that sat on the bed and wrapped it around your body to preserve your modesty. You could have put your habit back on, but you also needed a shower, and you had no idea what Copia had planned for you. With your new and unusual outfit draped precariously around your body, you slowly began to tiptoe around his room, getting a sense of who he was when he wasn’t in charge of an entire religious sect.

A plethora of volumes from all genres and eras filled the bookshelves, which was a testament to Cardinal Copia’s wide-ranging interests and tastes. Every spine appeared to tell a story as you read the titles: A collection of philosophical essays and reflections. Another book indicated Copia’s love of music and seemed to delve into the mystical elements of melodic compositions.

There was an anthology of occult knowledge and rituals, showcasing Copia’s interest in the esoteric also sat upon the shelf, standing between a historical account, likely chronicling the rise and evolution of the Ministry under various leaderships; and a compilation of folklore and mythologies from different cultures, reflecting a broad interest in the stories that shape human imagination.

Turning the pages of “Infernal Insights: A Treatise on Satanism,” you found a comprehensive, multifaceted investigation into Satanism. The text analysed the ideology in detail rather than offering a straightforward defence or criticism.

The first section of the thesis addressed the development and historical foundations of Satanism, following its inception across many theological and cultural contexts. It explored the various ways that Satanism had been viewed and applied throughout history. It illuminated the symbolic aspects and intended spiritual or psychological repercussions of a number of Satanic rituals and practices by providing in-depth explanations of them. The author looked at the ways in which rituals could be used to celebrate personal empowerment and establish a connection with Satan Himself. You pondered the number of these rites that Copia had carried out and the number that he would carry out with you.

As you placed the book back on the bookshelf, your curiosity continued to guide you through Cardinal Copia’s private space. The transition from the bedroom to the main living area was seamless, and the atmosphere shifted as you stepped into a room adorned with a rich blend of Gothic aesthetics and modern comfort.

The space was centred on a large, antique wooden table that was flanked by luxurious chairs with velvet upholstery that radiated luxury and cosiness. A variety of candles in elaborate holders glowed on the table, creating shimmering shadows on the glossy top. The room’s furniture was tastefully mismatched, with a mix of modern and antique items that gave the space a distinctive look.

Copia watched you wander around his living room in nothing but blankets from the bed, and stayed in the doorway silently, smiling at your curiosity. You had no idea he was there until you turned to go to a different area of his apartment and saw him there, your eyes widened like a deer in the headlights and looking absolutely delectable.

He had a dark glint in his eye at the sight of you, cock hardening at your innocence. His lip trapped itself between his teeth as he stalked towards you, preparing to take his early-morning prize. He took you on that antique table, throwing the blanket on the floor and bending you over the wood so he could bury himself deep inside you and have you screaming out for him. Scratches appeared down his back at the force of his hips slamming into you. You walked to work that day with a limp, while he walked to work with his ears ringing from the sound of your pleasure.

Life carried on this way for some time - a few weeks at most. Every day, you’d translate the Chronicles, and then find yourself in Copia’s arms come nightfall, or even speared on his cock. Neither of which you complained about, of course, more than happy to be the one he looked for in the comfort of the night. He took you wherever he could: your office, the floor between the library shelves, in his room, his office. Any time he could get his hands on you, he absolutely would, and he’d never let you go once he had hold of you. All other responsibilities came second.

The haze that had fallen over the two of you dissipated just two days after that, and in that one moment, you felt the tides change for the rest of your life.

You were sat upon Copia’s desk, his head between your thighs and tongue lapping at your core when a knock at the door brought your pleasures to an end. The person who knocked didn’t bother waiting for an invitation, pushing the door open and cutting your activity short. Both you and Copia fumbled quickly, to both preserve your modesty and pretend that nothing had actually happened - though, your flushed cheeks and his wet chin was evidence enough.

“Ah, Sister!” Copia said, straightening his hair and trying to make himself presentable for Sister Imperator, whose face was eyeing both of you with a stern look plastered upon it - clearly unimpressed. “I didn’t expect you… here… today… right now.”

“No,” Sister Imperator said, her eyes raking over your body as you tried to straighten your habit, “clearly not. So this is why none of your work is getting done.”

“Sister, I can assure you that I’m not slacking.”

“You don’t need to be here for this, Sister.” She said, looking directly at you. “Off you go to your duties.” You looked briefly at Copia, and before he could say anything, she spoke. Her voice was filled with frustration now, “Now.”

“Yes, Sister.”

With your tail between your legs you quickly made your escape, closing the door tightly shut behind you. Nothing good would come of the Sister Imperatrix kicking you out like that, and your stomach dropped at the dread. It was only when you were walking back to the library, you realised that Copia still had your panties in his pocket.

Sister Aisha laughed at your dishevelled appearance when she saw you, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Look who finally graced us with her presence!” She teased.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you stammered in an attempt to regain composure. “I-I didn’t mean to disturb him! I just wanted to update him on my progress.”

Sister Aisha chuckled, “I think something else progressed judging by the state of you.” She moved around the desk to help straighten your clothes and make you presentable again.

Although the feeling of discomfort remained, Sister Aisha’s humorous manner calmed the mood. “Sister Imperator walked in on us. She kicked me out.”

Sister Aisha’s hands froze at your veil, her eyes widening slightly as she clearly understood what you were saying. Copia was getting a verbal lashing.

“Ah, these things happen,” Sister Aisha said with a playful wink. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

You nodded in response but your stomach still churned.

Sibling Riley raised an eyebrow at your disheveled state, walking over to the desk with a cart of returned books being dragged behind him. “Midday escapades, Sister?”

Before you could defend yourself, Sister Aisha interjected, “Our dear Sister here has become a muse for Cardinal Copia. A living, breathing inspiration, if you will.”

Sibling Riley smirked. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days? Inspiring Cardinals in the middle of the day?”

You groaned, the teasing from your companions proving relentless. “Can we please focus on the important matters at hand?”

Sister Aisha looked at Sibling Riley, her eyes widened, conveying a silent message. “Sister Imperator caught them - but everything’s fine, isn’t it, Sibling?”

Sibling Riley picked up what Sister Aisha was putting down. “Of course it is. So she caught you mid-fuck… not like you’re defying the Dark One or anything.”

You said, “You didn’t see the look on her face. It was like we were converting to Catholicism right in front of her.”

Sister Aisha, “Come off it. The Cardinal’s meant to be balls deep in anything that moves - Papa Terzo was.”

Sibling Riley, “He was removed, though.”

“For not sticking to the teachings of the Church, not for fucking as many people as he did.”

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement at the absurdity of the conversation. “This really isn’t helping.”

“Listen,” Sibling Riley said, “you won’t get into trouble - you’re going to be fine, everything will be fine, okay? She probably kicked you out for Upper Clergy matters. I mean, let’s face it, you’re not exactly privy to the every day runnings of the church, are you?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves and believe your friends. “You’re right. Thank you. I have work to do, and I’d rather not dwell on personal matters right now.”

Sibling Riley nodded, a hint of sincerity in their eyes. “Fair enough, Sister. We’re here for you, regardless.”

“Thank you.”

There was a hint of tension in the Ministry in the days that followed. The typical sibling banter and friendliness felt strained, and you were forced to contend with the knowing looks and quiet murmurs that followed you. Sibling Riley and Sister Aisha appeared to be watching you more intently, showing a mixture of wonder and worry in their expressions, in spite of their earlier assurances.

Your thoughts started to become troubled by Cardinal Copia’s lack of contact. Your concern increased with each passing second without hearing from Copia, and transcribing ancient writings felt like an uninteresting routine that just seemed to be a pointless waste of time, though you knew it wasn’t. The fact that the Upper Clergy had been radio silent, too, wasn’t lost on you.

Sister Imperator was a mysterious and powerful person in the Ministry who inspired terror in the hearts of many. Her acts were frequently surrounded by an air of secrecy and harshness, and her presence alone was capable of inspiring a trickle of piss to run down your leg when you least expected it. While your brain knew that you hadn’t done anything wrong, you still felt like a naughty schoolchild just waiting for punishment.

She never came to you. You were summoned to her.

One of her own Ghouls came to collect you in the days after Copia’s office, interrupting your work and walking you down the cold, unfeeling corridors you once used to marvel at. The whole Ministry felt darker, as though a witch had cast a curse on the place and was taking pleasure in the way you squirmed in discomfort. The long walk to Sister Imperator’s office felt like a murderer’s walk to the gallows - like you were about to be put to death for treason against the state.

The Ghoul knocked on the door, and the Sister’s voice boomed from behind the wood, inviting you both in. The Ghoul, speaking for the first time since pulling you out of your office, announced your presence, then promptly left.

Sister Imperator put her pen down, and turned her attention to you, her brown eyes scouring over your body again, as if she were studying you. “Ah, Sister,” she said, her tone much softer than it was the last time she saw you, unnervingly so, “welcome. Please, take a seat. Would you like anything to drink?”

You shook your head. “No thank you,” you told her as you sat on the chair in front of her desk.

“I apologise for distracting you from your work, but it turns out you and I have important business to discuss. As Sister Imperatrix of this Ministry, and close advisor to the Cardinal, it’s my duty to act on the Cardinal’s behalf when he’s unable to do so. Now, it’s come to my understanding that you and the Cardinal have been… spending some time together, yes?”

“Yes. He asked me to help him translate-”

“I know. You both got carried away since then, hm?”

“I… I’m sorry, Sister, but what’s this about?”

“Right, yes. Let me get straight to the point. Unfortunately, Sister, any escapades you’ve had with the Cardinal must come to an end. His work is beginning to suffer, as is his personal life.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, Sister, I’m not following. I didn’t realise we’d done anything wrong.”

“Well, you wouldn’t. The thing is, Sister, the Cardinal has been consumed by his fun little distraction. While that’s all you were to him - a distraction - he allowed himself to ignore all of his other duties and responsibilities. As a result, the Upper Clergy have decided to cut him off from the temptation of the flesh… for the time being at least. Until his partnership is finalised and he takes a Prime Mover.”

The realisation from Sister Imperator hit you like a lightning bolt, leaving you dazed and confused. Her remarks held a whirlwind of emotions that swirled around feelings of betrayal, rage, and perplexity. “You’re saying I’m a distraction? That I’m somehow hindering the Cardinal?”

Sister Imperator nodded. “The Cardinal’s commitment to his work and the Ministry’s objectives is of utmost importance. Any personal entanglements that divert his attention from these priorities must be addressed.”

A mixture of disbelief and hurt welled up inside you. The connection you felt with Copia, the shared moments and the blossoming understanding—all reduced to a mere distraction in the eyes of the Upper Clergy.

“But we were translating an important text, a sacred text for the Ministry,” you protested, seeking a thread of reason in the unraveling situation. “Our work was in service to the Church. How is that a distraction?”

“Sleeping with him isn’t beneficial to the Church when the Church has already decided his future, Sister. A future that doesn’t have you in it, I’m sorry to say. Now, you still have a place at the Ministry if you want it - you are incredibly valuable to our dark cause and we need you and your mind. However, we must ask that you please refrain from speaking to the Cardinal, or even being in his presence as much as possible.”

“But how am I supposed to do that when I’m translating the Chronicles for him?”

“All important information can be given to me and I’ll relay it to him.”

“But-”

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Sister.” Sister Impertor was clearly getting more and more agitated the longer you spent in her office defying her demands. “I… we have worked too hard for the Cardinal and his career for someone to come and ruin it now.”

“And he doesn’t get a say in this?”

“He does. These are his wants and wishes, too.”

“I doubt that. I want to see him.”

“I’d advise against that, Sister.”

You stood, “I appreciate your advice, Sister, but I’d rather hear all this from Copia. Excuse me.”

The Sister’s words were swirling round in your head, fear building in your stomach with every step you took towards Copia’s office. You didn’t want to believe it, that he would treat you like this without so much as a conversation beforehand. He acted like he was enamoured by you, infatuated with you to the point where all he could do each day was exist for you.

But he hadn’t told you that he loved you.

Actions spoke louder than words, and Copia’s actions seemed like they were shouting to the world from the peak of a mountain: “Look! Look at her! I adore her with ever fibre of my being. I live for her! I breathe only her! I would die without her near.”

Seemed. You don’t know.

You hit the side of your head with the heel of your palm, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. The internal argument you were having with yourself over Copia’s actions was enough to drive everyone mad, and you could feel your body running on everything other than logic and sanity. Your breath was getting lodged in your throat and tears stung at your eyes. You were so close to his office now - you’d see.

He’d be sat at his desk doing his work and he’d look up in surprise. He’d see you, and he’d start to chastise you for distracting him when he was busy, but then he’d notice your tears, wrap his arms around your body and hold you close as you let the panic fade away into his warm embrace. He’d rock you, shush you, comfort you. He’d tell you that he loved you. He’d kiss you. He’d remind you that you were his, and he was yours.

Or he’d echo Sister Imperator’s words.

If he does, then so be it. Better those words to come from his mouth than a messenger’s. At least then you’d know.

But you’d never have him again.

You turned the corner and rushed towards his office door, the cold, iron handle biting at your skin as you pushed down on it and forced your way in. You hand may have been cold from the iron handle, but your blood was cold from the sight that lay before you.

Copia was sat at his desk but he wasn’t doing his work. You couldn’t see his body properly as he was hidden behind a mass of black. At first, you couldn’t tell what was happening, but the longer you stayed there, the clearer it became. That was unmistakably Copia sat beneath another Sister of Sin, his gloved hands clutching onto her ass as she sat on his lap. Her hips moved, grinding down onto his crotch as her whimpers filled the air, accompanying the sounds of their lips smacking together.

You didn’t realise you’d made a noise until their attention both snapped to your direction, the Cardinal’s mismatched eyes finally registering who was standing in his doorway and interrupting his break. A small gasp fell from his kiss-swollen lips, before, “merda!” was uttered. He tried pushing the Sister of Sin off of him, but it was too late. You’d seen what you needed to see. You’d turned and started to make your way out of his office.

“Sorella, wait please!”

The door slammed shut behind you and you’d already made your way out of sight when the Cardinal had finally reached and opened the door.

You’d got halfway back to your room when you saw Sister Imperator walking towards you, no doubt making her way to the Cardinal’s office to watch the drama unfold. The tears that you’d held back when you’d closed his office door were out in full force by the time Sister Imperator had reached you, and there was nothing you could do to hide them.

She sighed and looked at you, her hands holding onto your shoulders in a feeble attempt at comfort. Her eyes were filled with sadness, a sadness you didn’t expect to see from a woman as coldhearted as she was, but it was there. A faint whisper of a connection telling you that she’d been through the exact same thing once upon a time, and knew what this heartbreak felt like. “He didn’t see you cry, did he?” She asked, a gentleness to her voice that you never thought you’d hear.

Your words failed you, and instead you just shook your head.

“Oh, sweet child.” She pulled you in for a hug and began comforting you in the way you’d wanted the Cardinal to. It was surprisingly warm and caring, filled with compassion and kindness. “Never let them see you cry - never give them that satisfaction of knowing what they’ve done to you.”

In the corridors of the Ministry, you cried in Sister Imperator’s arms until all the tears had been shed and your teeth were tingling from the numbness you were now feeling. To her credit, Sister Imperator never left your side until she knew that you were strong enough to walk on your own. She’d told you to take the rest of the day to yourself, and maybe even the rest of the week if you wanted to, and had you go back to your apartment and take care of yourself. She sent one of her Ghouls to the library to inform the Siblings there that you’d not be returning to work for at least the rest of the day - though, of course, she had no idea just how close the three of you were. Everything was already arranged. There was nothing to be done except wallow.

And wallow you did.

Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley took it in turns to come to your apartment and keep you fed and watered, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to eat more than a few bites, the depression was too strong for that.

The days passed in a veil of sorrow, the seclusion of your apartment accentuating the echoes of broken dreams. Lost in the devastation of your emotional turmoil, the manuscripts and parchments that once promised ancient mysteries now sat ignored on your desk, while you felt your heart shatter with each memory that played in your head. All the late-night conversations, the touches, the glances, the feel of his breath in the crook of your neck as he slept - or even rocked into you passionately under the veil of night. Lying there, in the darkness of your room, it was almost as though you could feel his arm draped over your waist, phantom fingers on your thighs and the haunting smell of his cologne on your habit.

Your world fell apart following the office, leaving behind a barren wasteland of emotional debris. Your life’s formerly vivid colours faded to subdued greys, with the ghost of his memories resonating through every day. The promise of shared laughter and whispered confessions had long since faded, leaving the air weighted with grief.

Heartbreak’s fingers wrapped themselves around you, entangling every idea you had in a web of despair. The manuscripts and parchments that once piqued your interest now lay untouched, a glaring monument to the numbness that held your soul. The Ministry, which had previously been a refuge of shared moments, had morphed into a tunnel of solitude, with echoes of laughter reverberating as bitter reminders of what had been.

Your bed had become both a sanctuary and a prison, its embrace a frigid consolation against the searing ache within. The world outside the covers grew lifeless. With every day it became a shapeless haze of pain and hopelessness. It was impossible to get out of bed; the sadness of your loss bound you to the nothingness that around you.

The prospect of facing the Ministry, where every nook contained whispers of shared secrets and stolen glances, became an excruciating agony. The formerly known hallways appeared to be a maze, with every turn serving as a reminder of the joy that evaded you. You felt the weight of loneliness pressing down on you, pulling you more and further into the pit of despair.

He was everywhere, his energy was all over the corridors and rooms of the Ministry and you felt suffocated and trapped. There was not a single inch of you apartment alone that didn’t resonate with your previous relationship with the Cardinal, even the look of every day items enough to send you into some kind of flashback, where you could see him, feel him - where every inch of your senses was clouded by him as if he were there with you.

Your waking hours were plagued by visions of him laughing, of his awkward charm, of the delicate minutes spent delving into old mysteries. No amount of sleep could save your dreams from the bittersweet reel of recollections that played endlessly in the back of your mind.

Sister Aisha and Sibling Riley, ever-supportive, tried to coax you out of your grief, offering comforting words and attempts at distraction. They understood the pain you were going through, having witnessed the deep connection between you and the Cardinal. However, healing from such emotional wounds was a process, and time seemed to move at a glacial pace.

At first, they were gentle with you, handling you as if you were a delicate piece of glass that could shatter at the sound of a pin dropping - or rather, a souffle in front of a crying baby. But eventually, Sibling Riley had had enough of watching your despair firsthand, and feeling just as hopeless as you.

People never really think about the friends and family surrounding the person going through something like this. Of course, because they’re not the centre of attention. But sometimes, they suffer as much as you do because they’re watching the person they love the most go through some of the worst things imaginable and they’re unable to do anything.

Sibling Riley experienced a deep sense of powerlessness as they saw you deal with the fallout from the separation. The typical humour and friendship that marked your interactions now devolved into a solemn mood as they struggled to heal the wounds in your soul.

Every attempt to provide solace felt like tossing pebbles into an abyss, the echoes of your pain reverberating against the walls of their own sense of inadequacy. The weight of your despair pressed upon their shoulders, a burden shared but seemingly insurmountable.

Words, which were often their ally, started to become elusive, as if speech itself had deserted them in the midst of your pain. Every effort to console you felt like a weak effort because the depth of your suffering was greater than the comforting words they could offer. But even they could see that the gentle approach was no longer working. That they needed to do something more than tell you how loved you were, and how the Cardinal was a dumbass for letting you go so easily.

They couldn’t let you wallow in self-pity anymore. While unable to mend the wounds or erase the shadows, they clung to the hope that, with time, the echoes of laughter would return, and the vibrant hues of life would once again paint the canvas of your shared existence. But this could only begin when you allowed it.

So, they stormed into your room with all guns blazing. They flicked the lightswitch on, and made the loudest noises they could. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!” They yelled, clapping their hands together. They watched you flinch at the sudden intrusion, covering your head with the blanket. That wouldn’t do.

Their hands gripped the bedsheet and pulled it off your body, nose twitching in disgust at the smell of your body-odour that wafted along with it. “Come on, stinky. Up! Up! Up!”

“I don’t want to.”

“Tough shit. I’m sick of you wallowing here and rotting away in your bed. You gotta get up, you gotta get moving. Sister Aisha’s made a pig’s ear of the organisation in the library, and you’re gonna have a fit when you see it. If I don’t get you down there now, then the entire place will be upside down and inside out by the time you get down there.”

“But-”

They grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you off the bed. “Buts are for goats, my dear. Now, get your ass in the shower. You stink.”

You tried to protest further, but this earned you a push and a shove as they forced you into the bathroom. They turned the hot water on and made for the door. “I don’t want to have to strip you but I will - either that or you can shower in your pyjamas. I’m not asking you to leave the house right now, ___. I just want you to wash your goddamn hair.”

Sibling Riley went beyond the typical work/friend dynamic to offer support, realising the weight of emotional stress. They made the effort to clean your room so you could have a more peaceful and cozy environment.

Sibling Riley moved around the room gracefully, gathering stray objects and trash from wherever it had fallen. Everything was put away properly, and misplaced items were returned to their original locations. A small but meaningful gesture, cleaning was done to create an atmosphere that reflected a new and fresh start.

Once thick with the lingering odour of heartbreak, the air started to smell clean and well-maintained. Knowing that the outside world could affect one’s mental health, Sibling Riley worked to establish a foundation that allowed you to feel safe enough to begin healing - truly begin healing. No more wallowing in self pity, or snacks as dinner. Now you could return to the dining hall and eat good food with the other siblings. Was the food always healthy? Absolutely not. But recovery didn’t require healthy food - just the good shit.

The change became obvious as soon as you stepped into the bedroom. The bed, which had formerly represented shared moments and entwined destinies, was now a blank canvas representing revival. Sibling Riley had even gone as far as to change the linens, selecting a black forest set that they remembered you got so excited for. You almost cried, until Sibling Riley had raised their voice a little to snap you out of it.

“A fresh habit is on the bed. I’ll wait for you outside. Don’t dry your hair, leave that to me.”

“Riley, I-”

“___.” They raised their hand gently to stop you from talking, their voice now matching the action. “Call me when you’re dressed.”

You nodded and watched as they left the room.

The drop of Riley’s title didn’t register until they’d already left, but it made so much sense now. Riley was more than a coworker who you’d become friends with, they’d now become a friend who you worked with, and that realisation alone was enough to almost send you back over the edge and into a fit of tears. Snivelling, you began to dress in the clean habit Riley laid out for you, feeling more than grateful for them taking such good care of you when you needed it the most. Sister Aisha, too.

You started to feel more human when Riley walked back into the room. The more they brushed your hair, the more relaxed you began to feel. Their gentle fingertips over your scalp as they massaged in your favourite heat protector, the softness of the comb as it ran through your hair. You remembered the times when your caregiver would brush your hair as a child, and how rough they tended to be in order to get it done quickly - but not Riley. Riley took their time, as if each, slow and precise movement was bringing you back to life.

They played with your hair immaturely at times - of course they did. They did anything they could to have you crack a smile again, even if it meant tying your hair into a topknot do right at the tip of your scalp. “We’ll paint you green and put a TV on your tummy.” They teased.

Eventually, though, your hair was dry enough to be covered and Riley helped you with that, too, fastening your veil to your head and pinching your cheeks. “Right,” they said with a sigh, “let’s go get your library fixed.”

After the mental turmoil you went through, going back to the library felt both familiar and unsettling. The empty corridors that had once smelled of old books and faintly of study, seemed to be ridiculing the shattered remnants of your previous “relationship” with the Cardinal. Once a place of calm reflection and thought-provoking study, the library now held the broken shards of memories that were at once priceless and heartbreaking.

Your eyes couldn’t help but lock onto the snake behind the front desk, its eyes baring into your soul again, but this time making you shiver with a chill you couldn’t quite explain. It was like the statue was alive - like it was watching your every move and judging you for each step taken. It felt like it knew your thoughts, and only wanted to serve as a reminder to the last time you and the Cardinal were here together. Locking eyes with it had another flashback haunt you, his hands ghosting over your skin with a spectral grip so realistically, you could almost feel the long-since-healed bruises.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the library, producing a harsh song against the bookcases. You headed over to the desk that you always used, the one that had become an anchor in the whirling mass of books. The chair creaked as you settled in, greeting you with a solemn air fit for an old friend who had shared in the joy of discovery as well as the heartbreak’s agony.

The hush that had descended upon you like a thick shroud was broken by Sister Aisha’s approach. Her sympathetic eyes locked with yours. She was aware of the underlying pain that you were still feeling, no doubt being filled in briefly by Riley when you’d split off from him and gone back to your office, but there was a small piece of guilt within her. She hadn’t come to see you in a while - not that you’d held it against her. What, precisely, could she have done to make you feel better? To make you not hate yourself and the Cardinal the way that you did? There was nothing. It was somewhat of a miracle that Riley was able break whatever curse had fallen onto you.

“Welcome back, Sister,” Sister Aisha said softly, choosing her words with care. “I missed you.” Her bottom lip trembled as she said it - you’d never seen her cry before, and you weren’t sure you wanted that image in your head. She was always this strong rock that turned sadness into humour and cheered everyone up around her. It was easy to think that life didn’t bother her as much as it did everyone else. But in that moment, she suddenly became more human to you, and you were able to see that she was just as heartbroken for you as you were.

Without uttering another word, you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her in for a tight hug, feeling a lump form in your own throat at the feeling.

Sister Aisha returned the hug, her usually jovial demeanour dampened by the intensity of your feelings. The unsaid understanding that soaked into your relationship was a subtle recognition of the fragility that each Sibling in the Ministry carries beneath the surface. The embrace served as a shelter and a sanctuary where the barriers of stoicism fell away to show the true feelings that brought you together for that little moment.

The library seemed to soften as you grabbed onto each other, making a shared place of comfort among its maze-like aisles possible. A scene of comfort amidst the intellectual expanse was created by the hug’s warmth and the subtle scent of aged paper and ancient knowledge.

And with a swift goodbye from Sister Aisha, you got stuck in once more in translating the Chronicles…

Copia’s POV

Sister Evelyn Chandler possessed an ethereal beauty that captivated those fortunate enough to have laid eyes upon her. Her skin, rich and dark brown with a bronze undertone. She was more radiant than a smoky-quartz in the midday sun, exuding an angelic glow that captivated all those surrounding her.

Her eyes, the color of a morning cup of coffee, held a captivating depth. They were pools of clarity that seemed to have harbored the wisdom of ages, framed by long, dark lashes that cast subtle shadows upon her high cheekbones. Sister Evelyn’s gaze was both tender and commanding, a reflection of the myriad emotions that danced within her soul.

Cascading waves of black hair framed her face like a silken waterfall. The strands were lustrous, tightly curled and well-cared for falling gracefully to frame her delicate shoulders. Occasionally, she tucked a stray lock behind her ear, revealing the subtle glint of finely crafted, gold earrings that adorned her lobes.

Sister Evelyn’s lips bore a natural liner, inviting and delicate, forming a captivating contrast against her complexion. Her smile, when it graced her features, was a radiant expression that lit up the room, captivating all who had the privilege of witnessing it.

Tall and gracefully poised, Sister Evelyn Chandler moved with a dignified elegance. Her habit, a seamless extension of her being, draped around her figure in a manner that spoke of both modesty and timeless grace. There was an undeniable allure in the way she carried herself, a quiet strength and confidence that marked her as a woman of substance.

In the presence of Sister Evelyn Chandler, one couldn’t help but feel the gentle pull of her captivating charm, an enchantment woven from both her external grace and the inner luminosity that defined her spirit.

Copia didn’t know why he was letting her sit on his lap like this, why his lips were dancing against hers as deftly as they were, why his hands were defying him and pulling her closer against his body. He didn’t understand why his body had reacted to her when all he wanted - all he ever wanted - was you. He’d tried to push her off, which is why his hands were on her hips in the first place. But she smelled like you, felt kind of like you beneath his fingertips, and if he closed his eyes, he could pretend she was you.

It wasn’t until another sound registered in his ears that he’d realised what was going on. It wasn’t until he saw your body in the doorway, he realised that it wasn’t you on his lap, captivating him in such a way. It wasn’t until he saw the look of hurt on your face, he truly understood the gravity of what he’d allowed.

You, wonderful you, intelligent you, beautiful you, now running from him with tears in your eyes and a heart breaking louder than any car crash he’d ever heard. He couldn’t reach you in time, despite the quickness in which he’d thrown the unsuspecting Sister off of his lap in order to get to you and explain just what the hell you’d seen, but by the time he’d reached and opened the door again, you had vanished out of sight.

Copia’s heart sank as he stood in the doorway, paralyzed by the realization of the damage he had caused. The echoing emptiness of the hallway mirrored the void now expanding within him. Panic and regret clawed at his insides, the gravity of the situation settling heavily on his conscience.

He stumbled forward, calling your name desperately, but his voice sounded feeble against the silence that enveloped the corridor. The haunting image of your retreating figure, tears glistening in your eyes, replayed in his mind, each step you took away from him echoing like a thunderous accusation.

The air felt heavy, suffocating, as Copia’s mind raced with the implications of what had just occurred. He never meant for this to happen. The Sister’s presence, her proximity, had been an innocent mistake, a fleeting distraction he never intended to indulge. Yet, here he was, standing in a doorway, watching you disappear, and it felt like the world was crumbling around him.

Copia’s breaths came in ragged gasps as he clutched at his chest, aching with the weight of regret. The realization that he had shattered the fragile connection he had forged with you, the trust he had meticulously built, overwhelmed him. He sank to his knees in the dimly lit corridor, a broken man.

The anguished silence of the hallway seemed to mock him, reflecting the hollowness echoing in his soul. Copia’s mind raced with scenarios of what he could have said or done differently. The profound emptiness he felt was punctuated by the knowledge that he had hurt you, possibly irreparably.

“That was her, then?” Sister Evelyn asked, crouching next to Copia and putting her arm around him.

He nodded in response, looking to pathetic beside her.

“And given her reaction, you didn’t tell her.”

He shook his head. “I wanted to - there was never a right moment. I didn’t mean to-”

She rubbed his back. “I know, Cardinal. I know.” Cardinal. Not ‘Your Dark Eminence’, not ‘Your Unholiness’. Cardinal. Already she treated herself like she was closer to equality beside him than any other Sibling of Sin in the Ministry.

“Why did you have to do that?”

“Because it’s about time you started seeing me as your Prime Mover, Cardinal. This has been arranged for decades and you hardly even acknowledge me. I almost had you.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about some prophecy, Eve. You know that.”

“And yet,” she stood, “here I am, ready and waiting for the ritual. Get your shit together, Copia. I won’t wait forever.”

Sister Evelyn walked away, leaving Copia on the corridor floor completely alone. “I don’t want you to wait.” Copia whispered to the empty air, cursing his cowardice. “I don’t want you at all.”

The library, which had once been a haven of whispered confessions and shared secrets, now loomed as a maze of echoing shadows. The sacred quiet that had welcomed your partnership suddenly seemed like a crushing burden on Copia’s back. With every stride he took through the labyrinth of shelves, his inner struggle was echoed hesitantly. The smell of old books, which had previously been reassuring, now had a regretful aftertaste. Copia looked in every direction, into every quiet alcove, hoping to see anything, anything, of you, but the library was empty. Every beat of his heart echoed through the ancient halls of knowledge, pounding in his chest like a drum. His every stride is now shadowed by the memories of the last time he was in there, with you wrapped in his arms and the warmth of shared laughter.

In a whisper, he called your name, a cry that echoed through the stillness. The academics and librarians who had previously shown no interest in the secret meetings held inside their revered premises were now watching him with curious eyes. They saw a Cardinal devoid of his customary composure and troubled by the memory of a love lost. Copia was clearly suffering as he walked through the steps of your daily routine towards your office. It felt stale and lonely, the once bright electricity in the air now gone. The very spirit of the library seemed to lament the loss of a relationship that had once thrived inside its walls.

Copia’s speed quickened as he made his way through the maze-like aisles, his search growing more urgent. His cries became more intense and louder, resonating through the silent cathedral of books. However, you did not respond or show up.

The force with which the door flung open matched the turmoil in Copia’s heart. “___!” His words echoed like a frantic plea off the walls, resonating around the room. However, the office was now a mute reminder of your absence.

The soft light created an eerie radiance on the empty desk, reflecting the emptiness within Copia’s chest. The documents you had so carefully arranged were still in place, unaffected by the person who had breathed new life into the room. The smell of old parchment lingered, a painful reminder of the times you had spent together, when there had been laughter and passion, but now there was just a sombre silence.

Copia’s gaze swept throughout the entire area, looking for any indication of your existence. It seemed as though the walls were closing in on him, making the room feel cramped and oppressive. With his regular trappings stripped off, he walked out of the room, showing weakness beneath the weight of his title.

As Copia got closer to the desk, the atmosphere in the library changed, a tension that lingered silently between the old bookshelves. With a look of fury and cold that reflected the storm building within of her, Sister Aisha Banerjee looked up. Copia now had to deal with the consequences of his actions. Sister Banerjee looked directly at him, silently accusing him in a way that echoed throughout the calm library. The murmur of books seemed to stifle with expectation, as though the walls themselves were listening in on the drama that was playing out.

“Sister Banerjee,” Copia began, his voice carrying a note of urgency, “I need to find ___. Have you seen her?”

Sister Banerjee, who was usually quite amiable, responded to his questioning with a chilly silence. Her eyes reflected the storm of emotions roiling inside. She got up from her chair, her actions slow and deliberate, a sharp contrast to the turmoil that was developing in Copia’s mind. “Like I’d tell you. What did you think you were doing?” Sister Banerjee’s words were laced with a biting coldness, the hurt and anger seeping through each syllable.

Copia’s eyes widened with realization, the weight of his actions crashing down upon him like a cascade of unforgiving stones. “No, Sister Banerjee, you don’t understand. It wasn’t what it looked like. I never meant to hurt her.”

“You should have thought about that before you let someone else into your bed, into your life. She’s not just anyone. She’s ___. She cared about you.”

The truth of Sister Banerjee’s words broke through Copia’s layers of denial, causing his heart to sink. Not only had he broken the link that had grown between you, but he had also lost you, leaving an emptiness in its wake.

Sister Banerjee turned away, and the hush descended again, leaving Copia standing in the great space of the library in silence, like a cardinal without his compass. She waited until he turned to leave the library before she spoke one final time. “You don’t deserve her, I think. She’s far too good for you.”

Copia froze in his tracks, Sister Banerjee’s words hanging in the air like a heavy verdict. The weight of her judgment bore down on him, a burden he had no choice but to carry. Slowly, he turned back to face her, a mixture of desperation and remorse etched on his features.

“I know,” he admitted, his voice a mere whisper, the echo of a cardinal laid bare. “I know I messed up. I never meant to hurt her. She means everything to me.”

Sister Banerjee’s expression remained stern, a blend of disappointment and sympathy in her gaze. “Words are easy, Your Dark Eminence. It’s actions that define us. She’s not a pawn in your games, and if you truly care about her, you’ll find a way to fix this mess you’ve made.”

Sister Imperator would allow him to do no such thing.

Standing before Sister Imperator’s office, Copia hesitated, a weight of doubt crushing down on him. The door squeaked open, and he stepped inside, his eyes locking with the dark woman behind the desk.

“Sister Imperator,” Copia began, his voice carrying a plea laced with desperation. “I need to know where she is. I need to find her and explain.”

Sister Imperator regarded him with a measured silence, her eyes penetrating into the depths of his troubled soul. The air in the room hung heavy with unspoken tension, and Copia’s heart raced with the anticipation of her response.

“You want answers, but answers are not always what you need, Cardinal,” Sister Imperator responded with a foreboding tone. “The prophecy grows, and you have to concentrate on the path laid before you.”

Copia’s frustration simmered beneath the surface as he struggled against the constraints of the prophecy. “Sister, please. I can’t bear not knowing where she is. I need to make things right.”

With a faint smile on her lips, Sister Imperator reclined on her chair. “Cardinal, making things right is arbitrary. Think about the repercussions if you don’t walk the path you were destined for.”

Copia clenched his fists, torn between the desire to defy fate and the duty he owed to the Ministry. “Sister, I can’t lose her. She’s…”

Sister Imperator interrupted, her tone unwavering. “The prophecy is greater than individual desires. Sister Evelyn plays a crucial role, and you can’t let personal attachments cloud your judgment.”

Copia felt a surge of frustration and helplessness. “What about us? What about what we feel?”

“Sacrifices are demanded by fate. Find comfort in your duty, Cardinal. The Prophecy awaits, and you have to focus on Sister Evelyn now - your Prime Mover.”

“She’s not my Prime Mover yet.”

“No but she will be on the next full moon.”

“Not if I step down as Head of the Church.”

Sister Imperator’s eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing through Copia. “Do you truly believe abandoning your post will change your fate? The Prophecy is not swayed by your whims. You are the appointed leader of the Church, chosen by Satan Himself. You’re His son, here to do His bidding! To defy that destiny would be to court chaos and go up against the Dark One. After everything we’ve done to get you to this position, and this is how you want to thank me?”

Copia gritted his teeth, torn between the weight of his duty and the ache in his heart. “I won’t let Sister Evelyn become a pawn in this game. I won’t let the connection Sister ____ and I have be sacrificed for some cosmic plan.”

Sister Imperator’s anger flared, her tone sharp and authoritative. “You will not step down, Copia. Your role is crucial, and the Church cannot afford such disruptions. Sister Evelyn is part of the grand design, and so are you. Embrace your destiny, and in doing so, you honor the Church and its purpose.”

Copia’s shoulders slumped, defeated by the inevitability of the situation. He had no choice but to submit to the forces that bound him. “What about ___’s feelings? What about what we had?”

Sister Imperator’s expression remained unyielding. “Feelings are secondary to the greater purpose. Your personal desires must be set aside for the sake of the Church. It is a burden you must bear. Now,” she continued, letting out a calming breath and returning to her usual calm demeanour, “don’t you have Mass to plan for? Perhaps Sister Evelyn could help you announce to the Clergy your future plans.”

“But-”

“Off you go.”

Copia felt guiltier than ever as he left Sister Imperator’s office. The upcoming marriage to Sister Evelyn hovered over him like an omen, overshadowing the love he once imagined could defy fate.

He felt the weight of his choices like a vice as he meandered through the Ministry’s dimly lit hallways. His thoughts were filled with the echoes of Sister Imperator’s remarks, and he couldn’t get rid of the picture of your wounded look when you saw him and Sister Evelyn. He was disturbed by the pain engraved onto your features and by the resonance of your name. He looked for comfort in the shadows of the Ministry, but there was none. Just his stupidity and his fate that had ruined everything.

He had spent weeks without you - not hearing a peep from you, never entering the library in fear he would see you and that hurt look on your face. He stopped asking after you eventually, knowing that it would end up doing more hurt than good for his own mental health more so than yours, as selfish as it sounded. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on with someone else after everything he’d felt - and he thought you’d felt it, too. He couldn’t imagine what you’d feel if you saw him again with Sister Evelyn. How would you feel if you saw them together? Would you care? Would you be over it, over him? Would you pretend to not see him? He knew you were back at work now, given that Sister Imperator would send a Ghoul to relay any important translations you’d done. He’d assumed that was your decision - that it would be easier for you to create a middle man in order to never have to see him again.

Copia decided this week’s mass would be about loss and the grief that surrounded relationships that had died, and how you could turn to loved ones, or even Satan for comfort.

With his ceremonial robes draped over his shoulders like a thick shield, Copia stood at the pulpit. The anxiety that filled the Basilica was palpable, an unsaid weight that enveloped the assembly in a dense mist. There was an uneasy calm in place of the usual Monday Mass atmosphere of reverence and expectancy.

The Basilica’s elaborate walls were illuminated with shimmering shadows created by the wildly flickering candles that lined the aisles. The gloomy atmosphere and the seriousness of the choices that had been made in the weeks before seemed to be emphasised by the dull light.

With their eyes concentrated on the Cardinal at the pulpit, the devout were crammed into the pews. Ghouls and Siblings alike made up the eclectic congregation, but they were all devoted to the Church’s doctrines. Normally ringing with authority and conviction, Copia’s voice held a strain as he led the assembly in prayer. The unholy words that had seemed to have a purpose before now echoed with a strange turmoil. The recent decisions he had made weighed heavily on him, undermining the sacred ceremonies.

The perfume of incense filled the Basilica as it floated through, swirling and twisting in the shadows. Originally a sign of sin, the scent now carried a hint of unhappiness. The general unease that saturated the worshippers’ hearts seemed to have been absorbed by the very spirit of the unhallowed sanctuary.

Copia looked out over the assembly as he raised the sacramental chalice. A sea of faces, some displaying unshakeable faith and others displaying uncertainty and curiosity. The knowledge that his actions had shattered the oneness that had once united them was something he was unable to ignore. Everyone had learned of what happened by this point. Everyone heard the whispers of drama echoing off the Ministry’s walls. Everyone cared enough to talk about it, but no one seemed disappointed in him. They should be, Copia thought.

You sat in a lonely corner of the pew among the devoted worshippers, your presence like a still shadow in the dimly illuminated Basilica. Copia looked at you out of the crowd as he talked passionately from the pulpit. The world seemed to stop for a split second as his gaze lingered on your shape, his mouth running dry and the words following suit.

A painful hush descended on the area between you and the Cardinal, the words of his sermon hanging in the air like an ominous melody. For the tiniest of moments, Copia’s countenance wavered between sadness and surprise. It had not occurred to him that you would be here, a sobering reminder of the broken bond.

When your gaze met his, a wide range of emotions flashed across your faces in that tense instant. Like an unheard confession, the pain of unsaid words, a weight of unresolved emotions, and the real tension of a shared past hung between you. Copia stammered to keep his sermon composed, his voice wavering briefly as the realisation of how serious the situation was dawned on him.

The congregation was unaware of your presence, especially since they were unaware of this Sibling’s identity whose heart was broken by the bumbling idiot in front of them. For Copia, though, it seemed as though the Basilica itself had shrunk to concentrate only on the ache in your eyes.

Every now and then, Copia’s eyes would return to you as he finished his sermon, each snatched glimpse bearing a heavy weight of regret. His words of wisdom seemed to resound with an imploring undertone, a last-ditch effort to close the distance that had opened up between you. The melancholy of the situation was emphasised by the haunting melody of the organ, which accentuated the poignant atmosphere.

The Basilica’s calm exterior disguised the chaos inside. A story of love and separation that played out silently in the midst of unholy rituals was carried by every word spoken and every look shared. Copia’s eyes followed you as the assembly stood for the Gratiarum, a mute acknowledgement of the pain that lingered in the sacred space between the pulpit and the pews.

Copia could barely contain himself and concentrate on the remainder of the congregation when he saw you join the queue. With each blessing he gave, he knew there was something wrong with it, but he couldn’t help himself. His eyes wandered over to your frame when you were in direct eyeline. He watched as you tried to not look at him, sparing him an accidental glance every now and then but ultimately fighting with yourself to just pretend that nothing was wrong. The butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t settle, doing the most in his gut and making it difficult for him to function as usual.

You kissed Lilith’s statue with the same gentle movements you used to kiss him. Then you turned, eyes planted to the ground and took a step towards him.

Another step.

And another.

Closer…

Closer…

Suddenly you were right in front of him, your eyes focussed on the floor and your hands clasped politely in front of your stomach. You didn’t want to look at him, and he certainly couldn’t blame you for it. You looked so shy again. He hadn’t realised just how much you’d come out of your shell since you’d spent all that time with him, and now you were back in it, no doubt afraid to have your heart broken again. Again, he understood, even though the action was killing him with each second that passed. His heart raced in his chest as he looked you over and without thinking, uttered, “Ciao.”

That was the first time you looked at him since the sermon, properly looked at him. And there was no mistaking the hurt in your eyes. In that moment, he realised you probably thought he was making fun of you. “Sorella, I-”

“May I be excused, Your Dark Eminence?”

No, you may not! He wanted to scream. He wanted to grab you by the arms and shake you, steal you, and lock you in a room with him to give him the chance to explain just what was going on. The drop of his given name also felt like a punch to the gut. The last time you talked to him, it was when his tongue was between your folds and his name was spilling from your lips. Now, you were trying your hardest not to cry in front of everyone. So no, you couldn’t be excused! How dare you even entertain the thought? “Please allow me a moment to explain, Sorella.”

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed your arm.

“Wait for me, in the pews. Please.”

You didn’t answer, or even acknowledge his request, but he watched as you left and went and sat at the back of the Basilica. Relief washed over him as he realised you were giving him a chance. One final chance to make everything right. He turned to look at Cumulus, and asked her to sit with you while you waited. “Make conversation,” he ordered, “I don’t care. Just keep her there. If anyone tries to override this, don’t listen to them. Understand?” He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he rushed through the rest of the congregation, eager to rush to you before you changed your mind.

Of course, Sister Imperator had clocked what was happening and tried to get you to leave, but Cumulus stood her ground. Clearly she was the right Ghoulette for the task. When he was finished, he awkwardly ran to you, his legs resembling an ostrich the way he threw himself up the aisle and toward you. He loved you - he was in love with you. And to hell with the prophecy if it meant he could have you.

“Thank you for waiting,” he began, a little out of breath from the exertion.

You stood and bowed a little, formally greeting the head. “Your Dark Eminence.”

“Please call me Copia.” He sounded much sadder than he intended to.

“I can’t.”

Cumulus cleared her throat beside you both, drawing the attention to her.

Copia nodded. “Right, right. Thank you, Ghoulette. You may leave.” When you were semi-alone, Copia continued. “I wanted to explain myself - tell you about what you saw.”

“Forgive me, Your Dark Eminence, but I don’t want the gory details.”

“No, no. Please just let me explain. It wasn’t what you think - well, it was, but it wasn’t. Sister Evelyn is supposed to be my Prime Mover. There’s been a prophecy for a few hundred years… something about the antichrist only producing offspring with a person who has three sixes in their birth date. It’s ridiculous, I know, but Sister Imperator is adamant it is Sister Evelyn. She’s also adamant that I am the antichrist but, again, I don’t believe her.

“Comunque, I was never meant to see anyone else… I was never meant to fall in love with anyone. But then you come along with your intelligence and your sweetness and become so irresistible that I can’t help but… fall in love… with you.”

He watched your face anxiously, waiting for something that would help relieve the tension in his stomach. But you remained deadpanned, hidden from his gaze.

You started to speak, choosing your words carefully. “If this is how you show love, Your Dark Eminence, then I’d rather not be loved by you at all.”

“Sorella?”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let her… in your office… why?”

“I…” he paused, thinking about what he should say next. “Per cominciare, I don’t believe in the prophecy anyway, so it seemed irrelevant at the time. I didn’t intend on choosing Sister Evelyn anyway so I didn’t tell you because it just didn’t matter to me. But also… in my office… I did try to push her off me, really I did. I so desperately want you to believe me. I didn’t try hard enough, and I wasn’t strong enough. And I couldn’t be sorrier for it. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to you. Whatever you need to trust me again, I’ll do it. I love you, ___.”

You stood there for a moment, a little dumbfounded. You were trying to think of something to say, some way to answer him the way you wanted to.

However, the words stuck in your throat, causing an explosion of feelings to pass through you, including hurt, rage, confusion and the last traces of love. Copia’s fervent request lingered in the atmosphere, weighted with sincerity, but your emotions stayed guarded, hurt by the latest discovery. “I can’t just forget everything, Copia,” you finally spoke, your voice a delicate whisper. “I saw what I saw, and it hurt. It hurt a lot.”

Copia’s eyes pleaded with yours, a look of profound regret on his face. He made a hesitant move to close the emotional gap that had formed between you, but you pulled away, keeping a precarious distance. “I love you, ___,” he repeated, the sincerity in his voice echoing through the sacred space of the Basilica.

Closing your eyes briefly, you took a steadying breath. “Love is supposed to be about trust, isn’t it? And I… I just don’t know if I can trust you after what happened.”

His shoulders slumped, a profound sadness settling upon him. “I understand. I’ll do anything to earn back your trust. Just give me a chance, please.”

A heavy silence hung in the air as you grappled with the conflicting emotions within. The sacred surroundings of the Basilica seemed to amplify the weight of the moment, the echoes of your shared history and fractured trust resonating within its hallowed walls.

“I need time, Copia,” you finally admitted, your gaze meeting his. “Time to process, to heal. I can’t promise anything right now.”

Copia nodded, a mix of acceptance and determination in his eyes. “I’ll wait. For as long as it takes. Please just remember that I never meant to hurt you… no matter what anyone says.”

With his mistakes weighing heavily on him, Copia stood there in the dimly lighted Basilica. The lingering smell of incense filled the air, and the elaborate decorations were softly lit by candlelight, creating shadows. A knot clenched in his chest as he watched you walk away, each step bringing you further away from him. Copia became overcome with a deep sense of loss as the heavy door creaked shut behind you. His heart was hollow and empty, and the Basilica, which had previously been a place of devotion and peace, now rang with that. There was a deafening quiet after he had bared his soul and exposed his feelings.

The cold stone under him was a sharp contrast to the warmth that had once filled his heart as he fell to his knees. His gaze remained fixated on the path you had followed, which appeared to extend into an unclear and lonely future. His fingers trembled as he struggled with the regret and shame that were threatening to overwhelm him.

“I’ve lost her,” he muttered to the hallowed area surrounding him, the declaration more of a regret than an assertion. His own remarks seemed to mock him as they echoed off the Basilica’s great vaulted ceilings.

His eyes began to brim up with tears, but he forced them back. The weight of his cardinal robes felt like an anchor, keeping him grounded in a world where love had managed to evade him. His hands balled into fists, anguish and annoyance blending into a soundless orchestra of loss. Copia sensed the loneliness of the Basilica drawing closer to him in the dim light. Kneeling there, a broken man in a spot that had seen the highs and lows of his trip, he couldn’t fathom a life without you, without the warmth of your presence, without the hope that love had once kindled within him.

The compassionate Ghoul, Cirrus, had a great deal of empathy for their leader. She took a step forward without saying anything, her quiet comprehension echoing in her footsteps. The other Ghouls exchanged a look, not knowing how to step in or offer comfort at such a gravely vulnerable moment.

In a show of solidarity and support, Cirrus knelt next to the Cardinal. As Cirrus approached, her hand settled softly on Copia’s shoulder, her wordless presence speaking loudly. The touch, which went beyond the formality of their jobs, was a lifeline amid the sea of grief.

The other Ghouls remained a few steps back, unsure how much to get involved in Copia’s privacy and how much they could help. Worried emotions could be seen on their masked features as each Ghoul struggled with the emotional upheaval that had befallen their leader.

Cirrus stuck by Copia’s side. She didn’t try to make light of the situation or try to make it seem less painful. Rather, her presence was evidence of the unsaid connection that bound them together—a connection made in the furnace of similar experiences, both happy and sad.

“She’ll be back with good news, Cardinal.” Cirrus said. “I saw the way she looked at you.”

Copia, still processing what had happened, glanced up at Cirrus, uncertainty and hope mixed together in his eyes. His face was shadowed by the Basilica’s low light, highlighting the lines of exhaustion in his features. “You really think so?” Copia’s voice carried a vulnerability that contrasted sharply with his usual authoritative tone.

Cirrus nodded, offering a reassuring smile beneath her Ghoul mask. “I’ve seen a lot of love in my day, and the one between you and Sister ___ is far from over. She’ll return.”

Copia let out a heavy sigh, a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “I just… I can’t bear the thought of losing her. She means everything to me.”

Cirrus squeezed Copia’s shoulder gently. “‘Love will out’ as they say, even in the face of trials. Trust in the connection you share, Cardinal. It’s stronger than you realize.”

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[ageofzero]

Yuna is the antagonist of a potential Final Fantasy X-3, thank you for coming to my TED Talk

edit: okay I'll put it under a read more since it'll be a long post (but not as long as my entire conversation was), but what's promised is due.

Now that I have to make the post for real I had to do some wiki reading on what the actual Things going on in the novella were, and… well, a lot of my theorycrafting was based on incomplete and kinda inaccurate information. BUT I can’t read Japanese, the book was never released here, and I am going to go with rule of cool for a little bit of this even as I keep the stuff that sounds kinda dumb on the surface. I’ll be the first to say that Tidus exploding from a bomb he thinks is a blitzball is dumb (true), and Chuami thinking she’s Auron’s daughter is a dumb plot beat (petty), but I’m weaving this bridge and I’m not going to rewrite those. I am going to change some contexts and make them exist in a narrative that I hope is compelling. That’s my disclaimer, now I’m gonna get into it.

SO.

The scenario from the novella and audio drama is thus: Tidus died again in an accident, and Yuna brings him back. But he’s not back in the same way that the Fayth gave this dream a real living body at the end of X-2. The official term for it is “beckoned”, but I probably won’t use that to describe him based on my previous understanding. No matter if he’s beckoned or not, or whatever terminology you want to use, the thing is that Yuna summoned him back. She’s holding him to life, and he can never know. It’s been a year since the moment Tidus died, and Yuna has seemingly regressed into patterns that put her into what was once Yevon’s circle. Tidus is looking injured/weakened (“Chuami: It wasn’t just [Tidus’s] words that felt hollow. When I shook his hand, his grip felt weak and lifeless... I think he’s injured. Or maybe he’s sick or something.”), and people are looking to Yuna for help or information regarding the strange not-quite Unsent (the beckoned) that are appearing in places in Spira. Help she is not capable of giving. Wakka and Lulu are protecting her as she prays in Besaid Temple. The world is seemingly acting out, with a second shoopuf appearing in the Moonflow and its energies overflowing and drawing more illusions into reality. (“Yuna: The Moonflow energy is responding to the will of the living. It’s as if… we’re in the Farplane.”) And it’s more vivid than what the Farplane is capable of, even breaking the rules of “beckoning”. This is something new, something worse. Something worse enough to bring back Sin (which I thought was just me extrapolating a potential, but they actually mention it in the audio drama that it happens). Yuna promises the people that she will defeat Sin, but Wakka tries to keep her from being made to promise such a thing at first, which is an interesting choice (“Wakka: Yuna, let’s go back to Besaid. They’ll push this all on you… Sin is for summoners, in their minds.”).

Where does the world go in this present circumstances? Why IS Yuna seemingly content to do what chafed her in the Eternal Calm short movie and stay praying in Besaid and helping the elders who are lost now that Yevon as they knew it is in shambles? Why are Lulu and Wakka enabling and protecting her in that? Why is Tidus looking injured and weak and why is Yuna keeping him at arm’s length? Why does she tell him that she’s fallen in love with someone else?

I know the typical story beat interpretation is “Yuna told him that and pushed him away so he wouldn’t be in danger for what she needs to do, bc defeating Sin caused his death last time”. But hear me out. Yuna knows Tidus isn’t alive. She knows that revealing that information to him will cause him to disappear again. She’s actively summoning him back to life and he has no idea (but he must suspect something is wrong, even before Yuna formally pulls away from him, he’s weakening and he probably doesn’t feel right in his own skin). I posit that her maintaining Tidus’s life is what she’s really doing praying in the Besaid Temple. She doesn’t want to get involved with the Moonflow situation, the shoopuf or the overflowing energy of the Moonflow itself. She doesn’t even really act when seeing all the ghosts in the crowd, and actively stops Kurgum from acting (plausible deniability: she and everyone else decide that sending them in that moment would be the wrong call and riots would break out, but that density of ghosts means that’s a significant amount of pyreflies that could become fiends at any moment).

I posit that Yuna’s powers are working, that people close to her think her powers aren’t working (Lulu and Wakka), and she’s hiding it from everyone else. That her powers aren’t working because she’s currently using them to maintain Tidus’s existence. And this maintaining is breaking the Farplane in half, because she’s powerful but has no idea what she’s doing. (Why would she really know what she’s doing or the consequences? Who has any information of what she’s doing and what will happen if she does it?) I posit that Yuna’s love for Tidus is so strong that it corrupts her sense of right and wrong. X-2 is Yuna largely going on a personal quest, and incidentally helping people but separating herself from the title of High Summoner and doing something she wants to do. Rikku encourages her to do something for herself for a change right before she agrees and runs off to become a sphere hunter. She still saves the world, this time from an ancient danger Old Yevon buried and an Unsent is threatening to use (for love, notably), but she did it in the course of looking for Tidus. Who the Fayth return to life, who she hugs and is so so relieved to have in her arms again.

She’s not going to let him go, she couldn’t let him die again so much that she called him back to life.

(side note: I never truly knew how this happened so I had to consult the wiki page on the novella, and I suspect what original information I was working with was misrepresented and misinterpreted. I openly admit that the wiki page doesn’t really help me fully understand what happened, aside from explaining how Tidus ended up in proximity to a bomb. My understanding from someone’s explanation was that an Unsent summoner on the island Yuna and Tidus got washed up on after a storm told her she could call back the dead if she wanted, as a summoner. They’re all made of pyreflies, Aeons and Fiends and People and Unsent alike, and summoners are in the business of manipulating pyreflies. Either calling them from the Fayth to form an Aeon, or Sending them to the Farplane so they do not become Fiends. A summoner with enough power could summon someone back from the dead, could they not? And this Unsent summoner knew how it worked, and told Yuna how to do it. But I don’t know how real that scene could be, or how accurate it is to what’s written in the book. It’s my rule of cool moment, though, and I worked with that as my understanding when I made this theory. We have to make our peace with that, if you’ll allow me this extrapolation of Spira’s rules and a summoner’s powers.)

(The meme is Tidus kicking a blitzball and it turned out it was a bomb and his head gets blown off, but wiki says they ended up on a vision of a Besaid from 1000 years ago, and the bomb was something neither Tidus or Yuna had seen before and to them it looked like a blitzball. So, Tidus approached what he thought was a blitzball, wondering who’s ball it was, and it exploded as he reached it. I still think that’s really dumb but I’m not editing it out bc Tidus’s death creates very interesting consequences.)

So, if Yuna is summoning Tidus back to life, and she desperately doesn’t want him to find this out so she avoids him and pushes him away through any means necessary, but he’s still weakening and fading enough to be noticeable by people… perhaps also himself… Yuna returning to Yevon in some capacity could just as likely be her looking for a means to keep feeding power to this summoning she’s doing so she doesn’t lose him. And what kind of consequences does it have to do this? He’s being summoned, but he’s not actually an Aeon. He’s not an Unsent, he’s not just being beckoned. He wasn’t even real, he was a dream in a summon held together by the raw power of Yu Yevon turning into Sin. The Moonflow overflowing and seeing a long-dead shoopuf is the least of the consequences. The Farplane is delicate, it requires careful maintenance, and here Yuna is shoving her foot in the door and holding it open for a solid year! And no one knows she’s doing this! Spira’s past is full of history, some of that long-buried secrets that no one was supposed to find again. Sin wasn’t supposed to be able to come back, but the ghosts aren’t staying ghosts anymore (“Lulu: I mean Sin came back, right? What’s to stop anything else from coming back?”).

Even people who only know her by reputation seem to think she’s acting strangely (“Kurgum: I thought Lady Yuna was… a righteous person.”), because something is wrong and no one can put their finger on what. Who would have the pieces to put any of this together, and who would even suspect Yuna in the first place? She’s actively not getting involved in politics, she’s locked herself in Besaid, she seems reluctant to answer someone she worked with and should be amicable with now (Baralai).

I think the story should follow down this path, I think it should find Yuna at the end of it, once savior and now destroyer. She’s willing to let the world rip apart in order to keep Tidus, and I think that’s a compelling premise for X-3. The past surging forward like ghosts, vengeful and lost and wanted and terrifying. Who sides with Yuna (Wakka, Lulu) and covers up the problem? Who bands together to face down the High Summoner (Tidus, Rikku)? Who doesn’t know where to place their allegiance, or who changes sides when they realize the extent of what Yuna’s hiding? What does she do when she’s faced with her friends, and the person she loves so much, telling her to stop?

There’s a line in Eternal Calm where Yaibal (named in X-2 but not in the movie itself), after asking about whether or not she’d be joining one of the factions, if she’d be making a faction of her own. And I think in this potential X-3, she’s making her own faction through the actions of becoming antagonist. She’s made Wakka cover for her, she acts in a way that make Lulu and Wakka both protect her regardless of whether or not they know what she’s doing. I think it would be so fascinating to make this a conscious decision on her part. Things have broken so utterly, and she’s desperate to hold them together, and becomes the antagonist in the process.

Squeenix would never do it, they’d never be so bold as to make Yuna the antagonist and follow through on this trajectory of her lying to people to hide that she’s the one breaking the world in half (up to returning the ghost of Sin itself to terrorize Spira). Sin isn’t the final boss in this one, it’d have to be Yuna, we have to stop her and fix what went wrong. It’s not ever gonna happen, but I still think Yuna should be the antagonist of X-3.

[staytinyville]

Hongjoong

PLEASE REFER TO MASTERLIST TO GET FULL TAROT READING EXPERIENCE

↣ Summary: God created man in his image. He gave man a partner so as to not be lonely. When the evil sin of temptation comes to ruin the very being of you, you look towards Hongjoong for resilience. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x gn!Reader 

↣ Genre: Smut (M), romance

↣ AU/Trope info: Adam and Eve!au, non-idol!au, 

↣ Word Count: 2.1k

↣ Warnings: The discovering of sex so they really like in the unknown, unprotected sex (we don’t do that here), mutual masterbation, creampie, breeding kink, you’re a bimbo bro because we high off love, sorta religious backstory, incorrect religious stories

↣ A/N: This is very inaccurate. Honestly I forgot about Hades and Persephone type stories but I have that in another imagine here (Guess which one). Also this AU sounds kind of cool. But it’s my rendition of the lovers card. We love this card! It brings us emotional joy.

THE LOVERS

Love, Harmony, Relationships, Value Alignments, Choices

This card is a card that goes deeper into one’s life between them and another being. It reaches into the depths of the heart to tell you that your emotions have reached full peak together. It can be a new romance, new partnership, or even a new budding relationship with a friend. This card is meant to tell you that where you are going with someone is where you’re meant to go.

This is a card that lets you enter your being to make the choices you want with yourself or others. It’s not just about a relationship with someone else but also with your own emotions. You can be honest and open with someone else, as well as yourself.

Ultimately this card is meant to signify the choice you have with your mental/spiritual side. You are someone who trusts and who falls. Because of this you have to understand where it is you want to go. 

VI THE LOVERS

Then the God said, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner."

You closed your eyes as the breeze brushed past your skin. You took in the sun’s rays that kissed your skin, feeling its warmth heat your body. As your eyes opened back up, you saw brightly colored fruits covering the floor in a bush. Kneeling down, you softly picked one before bringing it to your lips. 

The juices seemed to fall down past your lips, causing you to lick at it before it dropped further down your skin. Because you had been so entranced with the taste of the fruit, you hadn’t noticed the only other person walking up to you. 

“Hello.” You turned around, eyes sparkling at the sight of the handsome man.

His hair was pink and looked like it needed to be brushed. Locks of it fell in front of his eyes and it made you want to reach out to move it away. It had been swished to the back, like he had been moving his hands through it. He was ethereal to you–like you were seeing the creator yourself. 

“Hello.” You smiled brightly, coming to a stand. “Would you like some?” You asked him, holding out some of the strawberries you had in your palms. 

He looked at the fruit in wonder before reaching out to take one for himself. “Thank you.” He told you politely, bring it up to his lips. 

You watched his lips wrap around the fruit, making you lick your own when the juices spilled out. You tilted your head to the side as a new feeling seemed to overcome your body. It wasn’t an unappreciated feeling, but it did leave you wanting to explore it more.  

“What are they?” He suddenly asked you.

You looked down to the berries in your hand. “I called them strawberries. They are very delicious.” You giggled. 

“You're very handsome.” You told him honestly, moving closer as you circled him. 

“Thank you.” He answered, turning around to follow your movements. “You're very beautiful.” He told you, reaching a hand out to grab onto yours.

Your fingers intertwined with his, making you squeeze them. When your body began to heat up, your breath seemed to get caught in your throat as you subconsciously grew closer to him.  

“How long have you been here?” He hummed. 

“I don't know.” You spoke up. “I woke up under the Apple tree.” You told him, turning your head to look at the large tree growing in the middle of the garden. 

“You didn't eat from it, did you?” You snapped your head to look at him, watching as his eyebrows were pulled together. 

“No.” You shook your head. 

“Please don't.” He told you.

“Why?” You asked in curiosity.

“I just need you to trust me.” 

The way he spoke to you made you feel light-headed. You wanted to do everything he told you because that was what your body told you to. This man was the person you were destined to be with and you were not about to go against his wishes. Everything about him called to you

“Okay.” You smiled softly.

And the man and his partner were both naked, and were not ashamed.

One day, while Hongjoong tended to the animals, you had spent the time under the shade of the apple tree. You were appreciating the smell that it brought–tempting you, almost. But every time you would think about an apple, you would be reminded of what Hongjoong had told you. 

You were going to honor his word, because his word was what brought you joy. It made your insides flutter and want to please him in any way you could think of. You began to think about him in a different way, that had you missing him.. Your thighs rubbed together, hands clenching at the grass beside you. 

However, your eyes quickly snapped open when something called out your name. 

“(Y/N).” The voice slithered closer to you.

Turning your head in suspicion, you watched as a snake made its way closer to where you laid. You sat up quickly, glaring at the animal. “You talk?” You questioned it.

“Yes, I'm one of the creations who can.” It raised its head, speaking your tongue. 

“The other animals can't though.” You told it.

“Because I am special.” It continued. 

“If you say so.” You shrugged, going back to looking at the garden blew with the breeze that passed. 

“Why don't you try this?” You turned back to the animal, watching as it brought an apple forward with its tail.

“An apple?” You raised to your knees, frowning at the fruit. “Where did you get it from?” You quickly looked up to the tree, counting all the fruit that were there. 

“I got it from the tree you woke up under.” It explained to you. 

“Hongjoong told me not to eat from it.” You shook your head. 

“What he doesn't know won't hurt him.”

You glared down at the snake, shaking your head as you began to feel uneasy with it. 

“But it will hurt me.” You shook your head. “I love him. I can't disappoint him. No, thank you, Mr. Snake.”

“It's alright!” It persisted, shoving the apple closer to you. “Truly! I'll take your worries from you.”

“No. I'm okay.” You pulled back, starting to get upset with the way the snake was forcing you.

“Just a bite.” It pushed the apple into your face, making you swat at it.

“You're being very persistent and I'm not liking it.” You frowned, coming to a stand.

“Eat it!” The snake hissed loudly.

“She said no.” Hongjoong stepped on the snake's body, stomping it into the ground.

The animal hissed, moving to try and bite at Hongjoong, but the man was quick to grab it by the neck. “You better go home before he comes down.” With that, he quickly threw the snake across the garden, far away from the both of you. 

You looked at him with wide eyes as you took in his rough look. It made your body heat up from how angry he looked. The blush began to settle over your entire figure, making you squirm. When Hongjoong turned to look at you, his features softened, reaching out for you.

“You trusted me.” He breathed, forehead placed against yours. 

“I love you to the heavens.” You smiled at him. “I will always trust what you tell me.”

“My love.” He breathed out before closing the gap between your lips. 

Your chest quickly pressed against his, hands moving to wrap themselves around his shoulders. His own moved down to your hips, pulling you tightly against him. His fingers gripped onto your fat, grunting as his cock seemed to brush against your leg. 

He pulled back from you, looking down at his length that seemed to have blood rushing towards. You looked down as well, tilting your head at the appendage that was slowly rising up. You became curious over it, reaching out to touch it. 

When Hongjoong hissed and dropped his head back, you quickly pulled back in worry. “Joong?” You asked him softly. 

“That felt really good.” He panted, taking a hold of your hand again to place it back on him. “Please don’t stop.”

You watched as your hand seemed to begin to move on its own, biting your lip from the noises Hongjoong was making from the stimulation. Your legs twitched, grinding together as you started to feel something between them. 

When Hongjoong opened his eyes to look down, he took notice of how you were rubbing your own legs together, so he thought it would be best to do what you were doing to him. The moment his fingers made contact with your heat, your hands faltered on Hongjoong’s length as you gasped out. 

“Hongjoong.” You moaned, hips stuttering against his hand.

“Does it feel good?” He whispered into your ear. “I want to make you feel just as good as I do.”

You nearly fell if it wasn’t for Hongjoong holding onto you as you did. His hand had moved from your core, making you whine. As you got back up, your hand began to move along him again, just as his own fingers began to feel you up. They probed at your entrance, just barely causing you to shift your hips to take him further in. 

You moved back to kiss Hongjoong again, tongue swiping against his from how his mouth hung open. He moaned against you, hips moving on their own. Your eyes went wide as a ball began to form at the bottom of your stomach. You wanted to push him away from it, but something was telling you to let it explode. 

And when it did, you nearly fell onto your knees. Your thighs clenched Hongjoong’s hand tightly between them, hand still moving along his length. Just as your orgasm was finishing, Hongjoong’s hit him full force, the man letting out almost a roar as he seemed to fall to the pleasure coursing through him. 

His seed was white as it covered your lower body. You looked up at him as he tried to calm down. As he was trying to hold himself together, you took some of his cum with your fingers and moved to lick them clean. 

“My love, you are truly perfect.” He sucked in a breath as he watched you eat his seed. 

Hongjoong softly placed you onto the ground, laying you down onto your back. He crawled over your body to give you kisses again, feeling his cock slap between your legs as the heat seeped out from the both of you. Without realizing it, he began to thrust his hips between your legs, moaning from the pleasure. 

“It feels so good.” He breathed out. 

“Hongjoong.” You whined, lips pouting.

You began to gasp out, moving your own hips up in tandem with his. When the tip of his cock seemed to get caught at your entrance, making you gasped out loud. There was something primal about the whole thing. Something you both somehow knew was supposed to happen between the two of you. There were thoughts that neither of you seemed to have before until that moment. 

“Please, let me breed you.” He shut his eyes tightly, forehead pressed to yours. “Let’s do what the creator has asked of us. I want to feel that primal want with you. Please feel it with me.”

“Make me yours, Hongjoong. Make love to me.” You panted against his lips. 

“Only you and me.” He breathed out, pecking your lips. “We’ll be the lovers.”

With that, he pushed the tip into your entrance. You cried out as he slipped in easily, pushing his hips forward until he couldn’t anymore. The pleasure you felt the moment he has settled himself inside you was immense. You swore the swelling in your stomach had returned and popped at that moment. 

When you raised your hips to meet his, Hongjoong cried out, quickly trying to keep you on the ground. He moved back and forth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he couldn’t stop himself from moving faster. 

Your body moved back and forth along the soft grass, your gasps coming out quickly. Your throat began to dry out, and your fingers picked at the grass as it was clenched between your fingers. The longer he went on, the closer it seemed that you were going to pass out from the pleasure racking through your body. 

Hongjoong began to stutter, whines coming out from his lips as he sounded like he was about to cry. Tears were already spilling from your own eyes as your walls started to clench around his cock. 

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” Hongjoong cried out, hips hitting your pelvis at a bruising pace. “You feel so good.”

The ball snapped inside you, stars dancing in your vision as you started to silently scream. The way your walls kept Hongjoong deep inside you, he wasn’t able to move out anymore, which led to him letting go of his seed inside you. 

He came with another loud yell, legs shaking from the orgasm racking his body. He could feel the warmth of his seed flood inside of you and wrap around him. As your legs seemed to go limp, he finally felt you unclench around him, allowing him to move out of you. As he did, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the white of his seed spilling out from you.

When he looked up at your face, he could see your eyes had closed and your breathing was trying to return to normal. His hand moved to rub at your forehead, thumb dragging down your cheek. When you opened your eyes to look at him, the smile you gave him made his entire being melting into a puddle. 

“Thank you for loving me.”

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