#the tragedy is that the hell fires will melt the wings anyway and man will literally burn in lava

[sketchyandsketches]

What if Icarus was a tiefling trying to escape Avernus

[accidentalbi]

pinterest quotes that make me feel an indescribable itch in my brain

" Weird hill to die on, but at least you're dead. "

" In a fight, they're lethal. Around each other, they melt. "

" Two broken souls scarred with the wounds from their demons, playing a dangerous game of trust and love. "

" Have you ever seen the hell in someone's eyes and loved it anyway? "

" Breathe through the fear and walk through the fire. "

" I sat and sat. Something was wrong inside me. I felt it inside my stomach and I didn't know what to do. So I laid down on the floor. "

" I aim to be lionhearted, but my hands still shake and my voice isn't quite loud enough. "

" Every angel is terrifying. "

" I'm extremely devout, but nobody can figure out what I'm worshipping. "

" Evolution was a mistake. I want fangs. "

" The eighth deadly sin is actually being mean to me, but they keep that one a secret. "

" My house is haunted because I live here. "

" She has angel eyes, the devil's grin, and tattered wings. "

" I don't study, I consult the lore. "

" If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell. "

" Your movements are so cryptic and wraith-like. You've got, like, a precise and deadly energy. You seem unkillable. "

" The horrors may be beyond your comprehension, but I comprehend them perfectly. "

" This man can't be fixed. I can fuck him, though. Maybe that will calm him down. "

" Finally the demon is down and looking peaceful. "

" I'll fuck you eventually, relax. Let me be funny first. "

" I want him broken. I want him resentful and tired. I want him uncontrollable with anger and vengeance. I want him irreversibly unhinged. "

" Oldest daughters are some of the toughest men you'll ever meet. "

" Throw me to the wolves and I'll come back leading the pack. "

" I know she is unhinged, responsible for multiple atrocities, and a danger to herself and others. But have you ever considered that she is tiny, and sad, and I love her? "

" Hold the fuck up. I'm the fuck up. Hold me. "

" I wasn't born to be soft and quiet. I was born to make the world shake at my fingertips. "

" You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature. "

" Is this what I get for loving a god? "

" You're a little tragedy, aren't you? "

" You and I both know this ends in blood. "

" They made you into a weapon and told you to find peace. "

" Nobody smart plays fair. "

" Anything you can do, I can do bleeding. "

" You want battle? I'll give you war. "

" I saw magic in his eyes. Dirty, dark, beautiful magic. "

" You're a weapon, and weapons don't weep. "

" I fear no evil. The shadow is mine, and so is the valley. "

" What doesn't kill me better run. "

" I might be a sinner and I might be a saint. "

" Not a god's chosen, but a god's cursed. "

" Sir, that's my emotional support knife collection. "

" What, pray tell, the fuck. "

" We can simultaneously be human and monster. Both of those possibilities are in all of us. "

" Looking half a corpse and half a god. "

" Be the reason why the lights flicker when you enter a room. "

" I don't take orders. I barely take suggestions. "

" The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me. "

" I like storms. They let me know that even the sky screams sometimes. "

" Are you praying again? How raw are your knees? How often will you repent? "

" The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood. "

" Loyal to few, ruled by none. "

" If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together. "

" Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down. "

" I hate when people ask me what sign I am. Bitch, I'm a sign from god, start running. "

" His grin was always halfway a smile and halfway a threat. "

" The fastest way to a man's heart is by tearing a hole through his ribcage. "

" Crooked grins, sly hands, and one dangerous voice. "

" True evil is, above all things, seductive. "

" Bite the vampire first to establish dominance. "

" My immense self-hatred vs my delusional god complex. "

" I'm not in danger. I'm the danger. "

" Bare those teeth and snarl, baby. "

" This howl… isn't from a dog. "

" You want to play dirty? Fine. Let's play dirty. "

" Your hands are scarred from murder and yet I trust them completely. "

" You got a taste for blood when you were licking your own wounds. "

" Rome wasn't built in a day. But it burned in one. "

" I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important. "

" How many centuries deep is your wound? "

" Just like the moon, half of my heart will always love the dark. "

" I don't think you're truly mean. You have sad eyes. "

" It is not Hell if you like the way it burns. "

" The sun watches what I do, but the moon knows all my secrets. "

" Yes, it's dangerous. That's why it's fun. "

" Fuck therapy, I'm becoming a knight. "

" Only a monster can deal with another monster. "

" Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. "

" I could set this world on fire and call it rain. "

" I swing both ways. Violently. With a bat. Come get some, motherfuckers. "

" I suck at apologies, so unfuck you… or whatever. "

" Ah, there he is. That motherfucker. "

" I love you is a death sentence in my mouth. "

" It scares me sometimes, the emptiness I see in my eyes. "

" You walk a fine line between beautifully macabre and uncharacteristically psychotic. "

" He smelled of strawberries and depression. "

" Let's cause a little trouble. "

" Keep your head high and your middle finger higher. "

" Get in, loser, we're living past the end of our myth. "

" We sin as devils, we love as angels. "

" Like it's my fault my love language is acts of service and all I know how to do is kill. "

" I have learned that pleasing everyone is impossible, but pissing everyone off is easy and funny as hell. "

" Liking angels in an atheist kinda way. They're just pigeons to me. "

" Why the fuck am I not a slightly ominous forest entity that you only see out of the corner of your eye on a foggy day? "

" Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime. "

" Cute first date ideas -- hand to hand combat. "

" Third base is me telling you about my father. "

" Honey, I… bought us matching swords. "

" Family isn't who you're born with. It's who you die for. "

" RIP to everyone killed by the gods for their hubris, but I'm different. And better. Maybe even better than the gods. "

" I'm not really a househusband or a housewife, I'm more like a house beast. I'm in your walls, causing mysteries and stealing your things. "

[spartanexperience]

ANYWAY HERES WONDERWALL aka assorted Borethyia headcanons

- Orithyia's a hyperfocusing nerd. Once they get a heureka moment, she'll spend the whole night in their lab calculating alchemistical formulas, adding one magic substance after another to the potion brew. Sometimes, during thunderstorms, she'll climb up to the top of the mountain to hold up a metal pole, to gather energy from Zeus' lightning. How they're still alive is a miracle.

- She's like Basil of Baker Street in the sense that when failure happens, Orithyia gets absolutely depresso espresso and slumps down to their chair like "existence is a lie". Pride is their hubris, lord help them

- Boreas once came back from a 2-day trip of spreading snowstorms in Anatolia, and saw Orithyia STILL awake, furiously jotting down research notes despite having pulled 2 allnighters in a row. Needless to say he basically carried her on his shoulder like a bean bag to the bed like "YOU'RE GOING TO SLEEP N O W!!!!!" while Orithyia was squirming and screeching like a wet cat LMAO

- (He is already anxious that his beloved is a mortal who is probably kicking the bucket in 50 or less years. He doesnt want Orithyia to drop their lifespan down even more with reckless health choices)

- Boreas is a proud sapiosexual and wants to get railed silly every time he hears Orithyia call his windstorms a "thermodynamical atmospheric occurrence" (He's a bottom in my hcs. I saw his one episode of screentime in Spartan Experience and made the logical conclusion "yeah only a bottom talks like that" LMFAO)

- He is the Ancient Greek equivalent of a film/literature snob who consumes religiously Amphitheatre plays and poetry, and will rant to Orithyia for hours about how that one Oedipus adaptation in Corinth's theatre missed entirely the point of the tragedy, and that the manga was better. Orithyia's ears are only hearing VHS record buzz, but she's lovestruck every time to hear Boreas ramble about the stuff he is passionate about

- The two of them bicker like an old married couple. VERY OFTEN. Orethyia gets ticked by Boreas' pompous arrogance and Boreas gets ticked by Orethyia's sassy attitude. Tho deep down they both love the banter LMAO

- Boreas is a rather cold creature to hold - of course, being the god of winter and cold wind. However he's very soft and squishy, and Orithyia LOVES giving caresses to his chin, neck, etc. (sometimes by surprise, just to catch him off guard lmao) because his touchstarved ass melts entirely, and he enjoys resting his head in his nerdy human datemate's lap. When she starts playing with his whooshy hair, he combusts. He's a snobby prideful bitchass but that facade disappears entirely around Orithyia.

- Orithyia knows it and WILL tease him to hell and back about it. "Would you look at that... The ruthless north wind, helpless in a mere human's hands.... 😏😏😏💕💕💕" Boreas growls and mutters something about "Shut upppp...." but enjoys it. WAAAAY too much

- If she REALLY wants to go out on their way and rizz Boreas up, they start quoting poetry and plays that she memorized. Whispering it straight to Boreas' ear. "Pyramos, Pyramos, wherefore art thou??" Boreas lets out a whimper and blushes madly, closing his eyes in bliss. “Alas, the Love that falleth like a flood, / Strong-winged and transitory: / Why praise ye him? What beareth he of good / To man, or glory?” Boreas deflates like a balloon, is soft putty in her arms and probs wants to be fucked RIGHT NOW

- However he's aware that his touch is cold, and Orithyia can't possibly feel very comfortable while holding him. It makes him feel guilty - everything in his cloudy villa is freezing cold, and while he is VERY proud about his title as the cold, cruel North Wind, sometimes he wishes he could be like Hades or Apollo who radiate fire and warmth.

- One more reason why Orithyia wants to become immortal!! She wants to be able to fully cuddle up in Boreas' arms, without having to take a break every now and then to warm themselves up. (According to mythology, Orithyia later becomes the goddess of snow and mountain winds, but I don't wanna go to that route too easily in my Borethyia content. Plus I think Zeus doesn't hand out the God cards to mortals without a good enough reason LMAO so Orithyia def wants to first pursue with hard work all the ways they could be with Boreas eternally - either by reaching immortality or by becoming a hero and going to Elysium.)

- Insecurity is THE word when it comes to Boreas - he hides it behind his arrogant selfcentered attitude, but deep down he wonders often if Orithyia only likes him because they have not met anyone better yet. When she and Boreas met, Orithyia was the miserable, lonely housewife of the Athens politician, and they were only able to practice science in secrecy because their husband thought that a wife's place is at home. She fell in love with Boreas, the fascinating north wind that would swoop over Athens during winter to send windstorms - perfect for her secret meteorological research. But over time, Orithyia also came to love his snooty but adorably passionate and secretly soft, caring personality. However, what if they met other gods who were waaay nicer and easier persons to deal with?? Or gods forbid, an actual fellow human??

- He sometimes berates himself: WHY did he have to descend to Athens on that fateful day, when he spotted Orithyia reading about metrorology on their own balcony? If he had never gone to Athens, this would have never happened...and then, he feels another wave of guilt and self beration. What else was Boreas supposed to do, than save her away to the mountains? If he had never met her, they would still be with that cruel wretch of a husband!! He could never let that happen to his lovely Orithyia, who had so many dreams to pursue as a scientist.

- The best thing he could do, is to help her pursue the life of her dreams. Boreas actively tries to look for more scrolls, science equipment etc. that he can bring to Orithyia, during his travels around the Hellenic world. No matter if he will be soon left alone again once Orithyia dies inevitably, he wants her to at least have the best possible mortal life. Their happiness matters the most - to see that bright bucktoothed smile on her face.

- Orithyia, being the smart nerd that they are, notices what Boreas is doing and gods...their heart is so soft, grateful tears are in their eyes. They pull Boreas to deep passionate kisses, not caring how cold his lips feel against hers.

- Boreas is not the TOXIC kind of jealous boyfriend, but he can get possessive out of fear of abandonment, and glare at other gods who shoot looks at Orithyia. When he hears that Orithyia is gonna go and hang out with his other wind siblings to ask them about their powers, Boreas straight up starts manifesting a cranky hailstorm around him, and shoots menacing death glares at (a very confused) Zephyrus the whole time. Since he knows Zephyrus is a kind, gentle wind who's had many mortal and god partners, and is way more popular at Olympus. Orithyia notices, and snaps at Boreas about it, to stop being mean to his own little brother. Cue the two of them having an old fashioned couple fight, while Notus and Eurus watch with popcorn and play bets on who wins the argument SDJFJSKKS

- At least they can both agree that Sparta sucks

- (In my hcs, Boreas' father Astraeus aka Eos' first husband, was very close to his first son. But once the Titanomachy caused a rip in the fabric of the Aether, Astraeus decided to merge with the Chaos, to power up the starry space with his life force, so the world can keep existing. Basically, he sacrificed his own life. Out of all of Eos' children, Boreas was the most traumatized from losing his dad: death hits hard when you're immortal. So he isolates himself emotionally, and doesn’t let himself get attached to people. LET ALONE mortals. He stayed away when Eos romanced Tithonus and never warmed up to the mortal prince. And now, ARES of all people is trying to take Astraeus' place. So Boreas is pissed. He is the ruthless north wind anyway - it's his nature to destroy, not cherish. Let alone love!! Except oops, Eros pulled a pro gamer move on him and Orithyia)

- in contrast, Orithyia gets jealous and insecure easily too. She knows they're not a looker of a human - they're a scrawny little nerd with buckteeth and inexistent curves. Why would Boreas even look at their way?? Out of pity?? What exactly does he find so attractive in them? Orithyia often overachieves with their scientific research so they could impress Boreas and make him proud, even though the god of north wind already adores them more than anything. (Having a history of being in an abusive marriage with a husband who constantly belittled her doesn't help. Someone get the god of psychology, because these both need serious therapy JDJDKALLS)

- On a lighter note, Boreas may act like a pompous snob amongs the gods, but Orithyia pulls out his playful side. Occassionally, at the mountains, Orithyia catches him off guard by throwing a snowball at his back. Boreas grins evilly, and launches a whole ass barrage of snowballs that bury Orithyia into a snow pile LMFAO

- Remember the ending of Spartan Experience when Boreas was trapped inside a gigantic metal pipe? Yeah, once Herc yeeted his ass away, Orithyia found Boreas and spent several days in shenanigans trying to find ways to break their boyfriend free LMFAO (eventually they settled with melting the metal by using a red hot steel bar and caused a mountain fire by accident)

[perfectcreaturerarelyseen]

To Fall for the Fae | 07 (M)

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female

Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Words: Chapter 7: 1,870

Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!

Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. Enjoy.

***Warning Mild Sexual Language****

To Fall for the Fae: Chapter 7

Her hands were tender as they turned his arm this way and that, looking the bite over with a warm, peaceful demeanor. He couldnʼt help but watch.

“What?” she asked, not looking up at him. Instead, she dabbed another alcohol soaked piece of cloth over the deep puncture wounds. It stung like liquid fire deep in his muscles but he said nothing. He refused to even jerk as she pressed the cloth stronger against his skin to try and staunch the flow of sparkling silver that was quickly spilling onto the floor of her cabin.

He couldnʼt tear his eyes away from her face. The way her long black hair fell like a curtain and she constantly brushed it out of her eyes as she worked on him. Bits of silver glittered in her hair as his blood began to tint her hair. The blood showed no sign of slowing down and she let out a frustrated huff.

“Nothing.” He whispered quietly in response to her question. Still he didnʼt look away. She raised her eyes momentarily to look him in the eyes then turned back to the task at hand.

“These are deep. Youʼre lucky it didnʼt take your whole arm.” She pressed even harder against his skin until he could feel his arm throbbing with the force of it.

“I had control of the situation.” He reassured her.

“Oh yeah? Doesnʼt look like it. Hold this.” She instructed, indicating the cloth. Andrew took the cloth from her and held it as silver began to flow even stronger now that her rough pressure was gone. He felt the absence of her warm touch and his heart ached without it. He hated that he was so addicted to her touch. The feel of any bit of her skin against his.

He watched as she rifled through her drawers. Finally with a satisfied grunt she returned to the bed; her bed, he finally realized. The sunlight glinted off the bright metal of the needle. With very little effort, she threaded the bit of string through the eye.

“This isnʼt going to feel good,” she warned, pressing the tip against his skin. “It didnʼt feel good to start with. Did you have to pick blue thread?” He asked, letting out a hiss as the needle bit into his skin.

“I told you it wouldnʼt feel good and it was the only thread I had on hand. The village weaver...didnʼt make it,” she admonished and he instantly felt bad for his comment. He was being callous in the face of all that had happened here. He looked around her cabin. It was strung with mason jars filled with half melted candles. Colorful cloth hung from the walls and the ceiling, creating a kaleidoscope of the space. Everything was bright and cheery. Vastly different from the death and destruction that hung outside the door. He could still smell the stench of death as the smoke from the pyre filtered in through the open door.

She cut the thread with her teeth and he could feel a stirring deep within at the idea of her mouth so close to his skin. Her breath on his arm was hot and moist. She dabbed at the wound with the cloth once again, mopping up the rest of the silver from his skin. She pushed her hair back and looked up at him, satisfied.

It was without thought that he buried his hands in her hair, tugging gently at the strands as he pulled her face to his, crashing his lips against hers. They had kissed before, oh, had they rolled in the grass of fields, his lips against hers. Kisses stolen in the black darkness of the night, away from her mother, as they traveled here to the hell of the fae. The place she called home now a dark pit.

They had chalked it up to the wine they shared at night. They had chalked it up to anything but what it was. He could blame the blood loss. He could and yet, he couldnʼt. Not anymore.

Their lips finally parted a long time later. While her fingers were still tangled in his curly locks, he tilted his mouth until it was against her ear. His breath disturbed her long dark hair. It rose and moved in little tuffs as he tried desperately to keep the words in, but he no longer could.

“Madison, I am in love with you.”

OoOo

“She’s gonna save me. Call me baby. Run her hands through my hair...” His body did a ‘bouncy bouncy’ rhythm as he belted out the chorus of “Jackie and Wilson”. His music was his life blood. It was the ultimate expression of his innermost thoughts. His hidden desires, his fears, mostly eternal random bullshitery. His love of words, of the guitar, it all came pouring out in an eclectic mix of music. He could go from fast tempo to slow and sweet. He could make the crowd dance, rail, cry, and sing.

He put even more into his performance tonight. More than he thought he possibly could. Every performance he felt he gave his all. Tonight though, he knew he gave 1% more. One tiny sliver more of energy he gave to this. All because he knew his Wasteland, Baby was somewhere in that crowd.

OoOo

The roar of the crowd was deafening. He sang. The crowd sang back. The people writhed and undulated like holy rollers at a revival meeting. He could control them as easily as he used to control the things that went bump in the night. The forest dwellers. He could control them with a look. Here that voice, like a siren calling he brought their bodies from their daily stagnation into sweet movement.

It was all so intoxicating.

Madison switched from watching the crowd, back to staring at the Forest Father. That may no longer be his title but it was still how she thought of him in her mind. He carried his common name from the past life, the life he no longer remembered. The life they shared, already forgotten. She hadn’t forgotten. No, she was left to agonize every time she heard his music in every club and bar she danced in. To see him playing on television was like a knife twisting in her gut.

It was stupid to be here. This would end in no other way than tragedy. Still, she couldn’t force herself to leave.

“Feels good. God it feels good...” He sang in that sweet timbre.

“Oh, to be alone with you,” she whispered the words under her breath.

Then he howled like the wild beasts he used to control.

It was like her skin was burning. Her clit throbbed in time to the music. Fuck, that man could still control her body with just his voice.

When he began the first chords of “Cherry Wine” Madison could feel tears begin on her cheeks. The lights were dark with bits of red threaded from behind him. It made her feel self conscious about the tears falling. She let them come fast and furious, refusing to wipe them away.

“I walk my days on a wire,” she sung along with conviction in her voice. Every day for her was a tight wire act. Trying desperately to be herself, and at the same time keep Bates on some type of an even keel. Anything to keep him from flying into a rage; things got bad, very bad when he lost control. Still the Willow Woman in her cried out to be let free. To dance, to sing, to be loved, not controlled.

The tears came angry and fast.

Then it was over.

The lights came up and the stage was empty.

Her phone buzzed. She had been gripping it so tightly in her hand that she had angry red marks on her palm.

...Wasteland, Baby. Where are you?...

...In the crowd. It was an amazing set...

There was a pause and she sighed. He was probably decommissioning from performing and she would be getting home anyways.

...I’m doing a meet and greet after the show. Can you stick around? Someone will come get you...

She needed to get home. She couldn’t get herself to type those words. She couldn’t get herself to reject the invitation. She paused and took a deep breath, staring down at her phone.

OoOo

He looked down at the phone, worried. She hadn’t responded for a good long while and he felt his gut clench. Maybe he’d overstepped his boundaries?

...I can hang around for a while...

Her reply came and he felt a lift in his spirits. Her reply was simply and lukewarm. He didn’t love it, but he’d take it.

...I’ll send someone for you...

They were calling him out for the meet and greet. He felt strange. Like his body was slowly tingling. A low thrum under his skin, like his blood calling to something, though what,he didn't know.

The name Willow Woman came to his mind. He stared at his phone quizzically. Why did that name, if that’s what it was, sound so familiar to him? Why did he picture Madison when he thought of it?

His manager called his name again and he jerked from the thought. Still the name hung on his lips. Wanting desperately to be said.

“Willow Woman,” he whispered under his breath just to test it. It felt like a wind swept through the hall even though the door to the outside wasn’t open yet. His hair rustled with it. Something deep in his chest stirred. Like a dragon slowly unfurling it’s wings.

Something had happened. He simply didn’t know what.

OoOo

She gasped. Deep and aching, she bent over in the crowd. No one saw.

He’d called her name.

Not her common name.

Her name of the fae.

Did he remember? Could he be brought to remember?

“Forest Father,” she whispered and it hit her like an arrow to the heart. A connection deep and painful anchored in her. Tears pricked her eyes.

No, she shouldn’t have said it. Even if he did remember, she could never be his. She couldn’t back then. She couldn’t now.

“Madison?” Someone asked. She looked up through watering eyes at the man smiling kindly at him.

“Yes?” She asked tentatively.

“Hi, I’m Larry. I’ll bring you back to see Andrew.” Still he smiled and she felt a warm sense of comfort from him. Madison followed his outstretched hand and he followed at her side.

She tried desperately to cut the cord that now connected her to him, Forest Father, Andrew Hozier-Byrne as he was known now. She couldn’t no matter how much she tried.

What had she done?

They were doomed.

OoOo

Two souls crying out to each other.

One remembers.

One forgot long ago.

Together they’d laid in that field so long that they’d become flowers.

Oh so long ago.

Then, death was happy, welcomed, such was love.

Now, one welcomed the idea of death.

The other searched for the ability to live truly.

They were in love.

They were oblivious to it.

They were doomed.

Such was the fate of the fae.

OoOo