#this is so tragic i had to eternalize it forever

[soldierboys]

THE BOYS 4.08 Assassination Run

[laniemae]

Chances Ojima dies this chapter? /Genuine

Hate to admit it but the chances of Ojima dying this chapter are incredibly likely, I’d say around 80%.

I know I’m usually the one to scream about how Ojima is “certainly gonna die” like every chapter but this feels different as usually it starts off with me feeling safe about him and close to the bda he shows up a bit more and suddenly I freak out about death flags. But the motive hasn’t even dropped yet and he’s already got a ton of screen time, big scenes and info about his character. With the bleeding plot coming into play, his relationship with monomoko and being her favourite student, painting the balcony shutter, and us learning more about his trauma. Like legitimately we’ve gotten so much content of him so early on in the chapter I cannot believe how he won’t die this chapter because he’s been so important. I don’t think a tetro character has raised this many death flags up until now and I’m usually the type to say that we shouldn’t scream death flags at every scene, or we should wait until the motive, but like this is just so much Ojima content. Like I should be happy getting a lot more screen time with my favourite boy but I’m just in complete anxiety knowing that this most likely is his last development before he dies.

Like and even going to story themes, we’ve been getting a ton of development with monomoko and her empathising with the students and questioning the killing game. And since Ojima is her favourite student it makes so much sense for him to die this chapter which could lead monomoko into even more of a spiral as she values his life which could lead to her potentially standing up in the finale of chapter 5. And I could especially see this being the case if Ojima is a killer where she has to send him off to be executed himself, and with how much Ojima is saying how he believes he’s gonna die in the school but also saying that he knows he won’t kill anyone would be ironic.

Also with the mural he’s painting on the balcony, I can’t stop thinking of how perfectly devastating for him to die there would be if he’s a victim. Being killed in front of the painting of the outside world you’ve been yearning for, having your last chance of freedom stripped away like that. Just imagine the unique 5th bda with Ojima’s blacked out sprite in front of the colourful mural unique to that one location. It’s such a perfect setup for him to die there that I can’t possibly imagine that it could go any other way. I heard someone say that if this is the case the student reconvening at the body would be called [Sunset] and just ouch…

God just writing this is making me tear up. Even hearing any discussion or even mention of the likelyhood of Ojima dying this chapter just makes me feel sick despite how much I also say it myself. It just feels different this time as the signs are here right from the beginning of the chapter that I am so so confident he’s gonna die and can’t let myself rest as every day feels like I’m getting closer to my comfort character dying and never being able to see him in an episode again. Like I wanna give my reasons for maybe how he could not die this chapter but at this point it’s so certain I don’t wanna get my hopes up at all so I’m just gonna be sitting here until he dies this chapter and I’ll have to deal with the fallout. If anything I hope an Ojima interview is our one way of giving him some extra screen time before he’s gone forever.

[giantkillerjack]

Betty is so relatable I would do the same shit for my wife

[imaginespazzi]

I Get You Forever

Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you

(In which this current writer would like to thank her past self for having written this months ago so she can still give her beloved readers something tonight)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff

Words: 2.4K (I guess you could call it a drabble)

A/N: Happy Valentine's my lovelies <3 So the plan really was to write an actual Valentine's day fic but well life got in the way and time is not my friend. However, y'all still deserve a little Valentine's treat and so I figured I'd let this out of the vault even though it's not my favorite and it wasn't initially ever intended to leave my drafts. This can also technically be read as a part of eternity-verse if y'all would like. I hope y'all have had a wonderful love day!

Paige’s world changes on a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon, on a riverside court with all her favorite people in attendance. But really, nothing changes at all. Because at the end of the day, she’s still Paige Bueckers, basketball is still her life and she’s still hopelessly and utterly in love with Azzi Fudd. 

If there weren’t cameras videoing every second of it- Paige would lie and say that she hasn’t shed a single tear today. But her eyes have been watery from the minute she’d stepped into the wedding venue, fidgeting with the sleeves of her all white suit. It’s been years in the making, the Paige and Azzi story, even if the soon-to-be wife title still feels a little too mundane for their relationship. Because Azzi has always been more than a best friend or girlfriend or fiancé; she’s Paige’s everything. 

They’d decided to both walk down the aisle at the same time, meeting at the altar set up in the middle of the basketball court. In true Paige and Azzi fashion, the journey down the aisle is decorated with arrangements of pink lilies and purple hydrangeas, contrasted against the otherwise white and blue decór -an ode to UConn- of the rest of the wedding venue. The altar arch itself is canvassed with photos of them, milestones of every second they’d spent learning and loving each other. 

It had taken a fair amount of begging to get Geno Auriemma to say yes to marrying them. Well no, that’s not quite right. Paige had begged for ten minutes and then given the phone to Azzi who had immediately gotten their former coach to agree. Nobody could accuse the old man -who’s now standing right in front of the altar, a scroll in his hands- of not playing favorites. 

The tears from the rest of the day are nothing compared to when the music starts up and Paige finally sees Azzi on the other side of the court. The girl dressed in a simple white off the shoulder dress had been the prettiest girl Paige had ever seen at fifteen, and is still the most gorgeous woman in the world now. She smiles and Paige swears the sun would be jealous of the way Azzi lights up a room. And suddenly all the nerves are gone, everybody else disappears and it’s just Paige and her future. She’s been through a lot in her life, the epic highs, the tragic lows, the boring in between, and through all of it, there’s always been Azzi’s hand firmly grasped in her own, rubbing light patterns against her skin and promising everything gonna be just alright P. And it was. It always would be. As long as Paige gets to hold Azzi’s hand forever. 

It’s a miracle that Paige doesn’t trip on her way down the aisle with the way her eyesight is completely blurry from tears cascading down her face. Thank god for waterproof makeup. Azzi fares just a little bit better, tears brimming but not falling as she continues to smile at Paige, that smile that’s just for her. They’re a little overeager to hold hands by the time they finally meet in the middle and the entire crowd, filled with people who know their ways -know how desperate they are to always be with each other- just a little t00 well and have probably rolled their eyes at their antiques one too many times, laughs. 

“You-holy shit-,” Paige manages to bumble out, “you look really fucking beautiful.”

Azzi laughs, lightly squeezing Paige’s hands, “you don’t look too bad yourself Bueckers.”

“I look fantastic,” Paige scoffs, familiar arrogance intact as always. 

“You look gorgeous,” Azzi corrects and it’s enough to make Paige’s natural blush override the artificial pink that had been put on there by her makeup artist. 

They grin goofily at each other and Paige is just about to lean in for a kiss, forgetting her whereabouts when Coach coughs loudly. 

“You wouldn’t know it from the way these fools are behaving,” he begins and another round of laughter rings out through the crowd, “but we’re here today to marry these two idiots.”

“You’re only talking about Paige right Coach?”

“HEY.”

“Well you’re the one marrying her so you’ve got to be a bit of an idiot too,” Coach says pointedly, “now shut up and let me marry you.”

“Yes sir,” both Paige and Azzi say, sharing a commiserating grin between the two of them. 

“For those of you who don’t know me a) you should and b) my name’s Geno Auriemma and I am the poor Coach who had the misfortune of watching these two fuck up play after play. That is, when they weren’t being idiots on the bench because that’s where they spent half their UConn careers- oh we can laugh about that now,” he says with a smirk when the crowd chuckles, “but it was like the world was ending back then. But somehow these two still managed to keep a smile on their faces. And a part of that is a credit to their own characters, but a lot of it is because they had each other.”

Paige uses her thumb to write I love you against the back of Azzi’s hand as the other girl finally lets a tear fall from her eyes. 

“You know when Paige first told me she was gonna help recruit Azzi, I thought ‘like hell she is’. Except I forgot that if there’s one person more stubborn and persistent than me in this world, it’s probably Paige. And as I watched her recruit Azzi, I knew it was a done deal. And no, I’m not talking about Azzi’s commitment. I knew they were a done deal and I knew that this moment was not a if but a when. And I can’t lie, it took these dumbasses some time, way too much time if we’re being honest but-” the entire crowd nods in agreement as Paige and Azzi let out identically watery laughs, “they figured it out. When it comes to each other, they always figure it out.”

And then Coach’s face morphs into something serious, the amused smile on his face turning into a more sincere one, “I have watched a lot of wonderful things happen at UConn. I have watched my players chase perfection on and off the court and I’ve always said that the thing about perfection is that it’s unattainable. Well unless you’re UConn, then a perfect season is pretty easy. That’s one exception. And the other exception,” he smiles at his former star players, “is Paige and Azzi. I have never met two people more perfect for each other and I am so incredibly honored to be the one to marry them today.”

“Damn Coach,” Paige teases, still sniffling, “you getting soft on us?”

“Shut up and say your damn vows Bueckers,” Coach snaps but there’s no denying the proud smile on his face or the slight tremble in his voice. 

Paige smiles nervously, anchored only by the way Azzi’s tracing a pattern on her palms. She’d written and deleted and then re-written them multiple times; no word, no sentence seemed to convey just how much she loved the woman in front of us. 

“Everybody knows that I don’t really shut up,” she begins, eliciting giggles from her enamored audience, “but today I really am at a loss for words. And that’s okay. Because Azzi, you’ve always known how to listen for the words I’ve never been able to say out loud- ah shit-” she curses as the avalanche of tears hits immediately, “excuse me- the first thing I noticed about Azzi was how perfect her three pointer was. And then I quickly realized that actually, there wasn’t a thing about Azzi that wasn’t perfect. Well except for her cooking but that’s okay baby, thankfully we can afford a chef,” that earns her a little nudge in the stomach- “y’all see how she bullies me?-” and another, “okay okay aight I’m sorry.”

Paige sucks in a deep breath before she starts to speak again. 

“Before I met you Az, I used to feel so fucking heavy all the time. And I didn’t even realize that not feeling that way was a possibility until our trip home from Argentina. I didn’t know that I could feel all light and floaty inside, I didn’t know that I could feel free,” Paige chokes up at the last word, “baby you have taught me so many things, but more than anything you’ve taught me the meaning of the word unconditional. You’ve taught me how to love unconditionally and you’ve taught me how to be loved unconditionally. I don’t know if there’s a word invented yet for just how secure you make me feel but I wake up every damn day knowing without a doubt that however my day goes, it’ll always be you and me at the end,” Paige takes in another shaky breath, “I am a lot of things. A basketball player, a teammate, a daughter, a sister, a friend, the ultimate rizzler,” she winks at the crowd before looking at the love of her life, “but more than anything, baby I am yours. Your best friend, your soulmate, your ride or die and soon I’ll be your wife. All yours. Only yours. I have been since the moment I met you and if you’ll deal with me for that long, then till the day I die. I’m yours Azzi. And every day, I’m glad that you choose to be mine.”

The crowd is clapping and from her peripheral vision, Paige can tell that both sets of parents are in tears. Hell, there’s barely a dry eye in the audience. But all Paige really cares about is the woman in front of her, the woman who still looks at her like she wants to memorize every little bit of her, the woman who’s mouthing i love you through her tears and Paige knows she means it, knows beyond a doubt that she’ll always mean it. 

“Did I do good?” the blonde can’t help but smirk. 

Azzi laughs waterily, “fuck off Bueckers, you know you did good.”

“You gonna beat me?”

Azzi doesn’t answer, shaking her head fondly as their family and fans begin to calm down in anticipation of the other bride’s speech. 

“When I first met Paige,” Azzi begins, a smirk playing on her lips, “my first thought was that there’s no way this white girl’s gonna be any good at playing basketball. I quickly realized I was wrong. When I first kissed Paige, I thought, there’s no way this white girl’s gonna be my forever-”

“Hey-”

“As y’all can tell, I was wrong that time too. It’s a good thing that I’m not the one making these decisions about love and life. First of all because I can’t make a decision for shit as we all know. And second of all because I think God knew. He knew there was never gonna be anyone who could protect me harder, hold me tighter or love me any more than you do,” Azzi’s voice cracks, and Paige instinctively reaches out to wipe away her tears, “unlike Paige. I don’t really like to talk that much,” the audience laughs, “but I like to talk to Paige. My favorite part of my day is when I get to talk to her. Not because I’m dying to say something but because I like the way she looks at me when I talk, like she’s memorizing every sentence I say, like every word out my mouth is the most important one she’ll ever hear. Baby,” she smiles at Paige, “you make me feel seen. I like to hide from the spotlight but I never, ever want to hide from you.”

Azzi pauses, letting out a breath as she tightens her grip on Paige’s hand. 

“I was a big disney kid but despite that, I was always a bit of a skeptic. I wasn't really the kind of person who believed in fairytales or magic or all of that. But you- you turned me into a believer and the thing I believe in the most is you. Paige Bueckers you are my magic, you are my fairytale and you are my happily ever after,” Azzi presses a kiss to Paige’s knuckles, “I’m not much of a talker but every damn day I thank fourteen year old me for getting over her nerves and talking to you on that plane even if she didn’t know that, that white girl was gonna change her life then,” she swallows back her tears, “because you did. And now there’s one thing in my life that will never change, and that’s you. You are my constant, my anchor. Paige Madison Bueckers you are my whole world. and you always will be.”

And Paige knows there are traditions, but that doesn’t stop her from pulling Azzi into a kiss that she hopes encapsulates everything she’s feeling. They’ve never been one for rules anyways. 

“If the two of you are done,” Coach says slyly as they break apart, “can we do the rings?”

Paige and Azzi nod as Drew brings them two silver wedding bands, each engraved on the inside with the other’s name. They giddily repeat the with this ring I thee wed statements, delicately placing the rings on each other’s fingers. 

“Do you, Paige Madison Bueckers take this-”

“I do,” Paige says hurriedly, earning her a bunch of chuckles. 

“This is why Azzi’s my favorite. She’ll let me finish,” Coach says with a sigh before turning to the brunette, “do you Azzi Jazlyn Fudd, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“You may now-”

They don’t wait for Coach to finish the sentences, both of them surging forward at the same time, eager to finally kiss each other as wives. And it isn’t that different from when they were best friends or girlfriends or fiancés. They’re still Paige and Azzi and they’re still completely and utterly in love with each other. From now, and until eternity.

“So who won the vows?” Paige whispers against Azzi’s lip, her wife’s lip. 

Azzi smiles, pressing their foreheads together,  “I won, because I get you forever now.”

“And I get you forever.”

[galedekarios]

emmrich & regret

emmrich: rook? darling? i wanted to say... rook: yeah, about that argument... emmrich: (sighs) it's no time to apologise, is it? rook: we'll talk back home, emmrich. i promise.

currently thinking about the fact that this is the last thing that emmrich and rook truly talk about before everything falls apart on tearstone island and they can't even do it in private, because the one chance they had, their moment to do so turned into an argument.

and not only did one friend die.

and not only is another friend missing, presumably also dead.

no, on top of all that tragedy -- that affects them all because the companions do care about each other. no matter who you picked, it's tragic: emmrich's picknick with harding and the long talks about their pasts, his discussions and warmth with bellara, his respect for neve and the little ways she cares so much, his friendship with davrin and the way both learn from each other in how to care for those in their care -- rook is gone, too. vanished.

and the last private moment they had ended in a heated argument.

i am willing to bet that "we'll talk back home, emmrich. i promise." is something that haunts emmrich during those long, long weeks that rook is trapped.

"we'll talk back home, emmrich. i promise." - not only is the use of 'home' very poignant and loaded and heatbreaking, but... they never do get to talk. then they never do get home. it's only he who does.

it's a promise broken.

it's a huge regret.

it's one of those little things that seem overwhelming in the face of loss and grief. the little things that you never got to do. the little things that you never get to make right. the little things that you never get so say. the way should have, could have, would have makes you spiral.

and emmrich would know, does have experience with it after losing his parents so abruptly, as well as within his professional duty's as a watcher, yet i think that would weigh heavily on him.

he's not prepared to lose rook. we see that time and time again in his human path and in his lich path as well:

emmrich: i will lose you to time, rook. what if i can’t bear that for eternity? - emmrich: i’m afraid i’ll mourn you forever.

i think it also explains very well why he insists on the visit to the necropolis, despite what's looming over the group. at first i thought it's a bit frivolous at this point in the game, until i realised why. he does it to be truly absolutely sure that all traces of whatever solas did to rook are gone:

emmrich: rook, dearest, please trust me. i must take you to the necropolis before we confront elgar'nan. - rook: did we have to risk visiting the necropolis? emmrich: i needed its subtler enchanments to detect what we must know. emmrich: there's no mark of the curse solas left on you. emmrich: darling, i thought i'd lost you forever in the fade. rook: if you and the others hadn't pulled me out...

emmrich doesn't want to repeat his (perceived) mistake. he doesn't want to lose them again, to leave things unfinished and to regret again.

and while i did wish we had an additional scene where we actually do have a chance to both address the argument rook and emmrich had in a meaningful way, addressing what happened after as well as emmrich's fears, it makes this final line in the romance scene all the sweeter:

emmrich: whatever is in store for us - together, my darling. that's how we'll face it. rook: i know.

[ditoob]

Something I find makes the life and death of Achilles far more tragic is the fact that all he is is the Trojan War. His parents’ wedding begins the conflict, and he dies before the end of the war. His entire life was spent in something he had no control over. Did he know Helen? Paris? Hektor? The Trojans became his enemies only when he reached the beaches of Troy.

Hell, if we go by the Achilleid, Achilles didn’t even know what the war was about until he was sailing to Troy. A young boy whose birth produced an unjust prophecy that dictated the rest of his life: Live long and die in obscurity, or die in war and live in the minds of the people forever. No greek man of his time could bear to die in obscurity, but it was especially impossible for Achilles to do so. His father Peleus, a legendary Argonaut whose adventures would be remembered for millenia, his mother Thetis, a towering goddess raised by the queen of the gods herself.

Their child had to be known.

At Aulis the greeks call for Achilles, a legend before he even steps into the battlefield, and he is forced to go to war. And he fights, he kills, he ravages the city of Troy. A boy who has never even seen a battle in his life, living in peaceful Pthia and later protected by mighty Chiron in Thessally, becomes a machine specifically created for one purpose: To destroy Troy.

This is the reason why Achilles refuses to fight after the taking of Briseis. Unlike Agamemnon, who lived before the Trojan War, who had a wife and family before the Trojan War, who will leave Troy. Or Odysseus who will tell his tales to his son and wife after 20 years away. Or Menelaus who after years regains his family and rules Sparta in peace. Achilles has no life, no future, he IS Troy, more than even Hektor, Paris, and Priam are. Thus, when his honor is threatened, everything he has ever lived for has been taken away from him. Realize that before the taking of Briseis, Agamemnon mentioned takingthe “bride prizes” from the other greek kings and despite this not going anywhere none of them attempted to argue. Would Odysseus attempt to kill Agamemnon if his bride prize were taken? Would Diomedes or Greater Ajax?

And yet, after Achilles lives his entire life for war. After he struggles and suffers so much at the face of adversity. At the loss of his everything, Patroklos. At the slight to his honor. He spends the rest of eternity regretting everything he had ever done. Perhaps it is a mercy to Achilles that shades forget their life on earth

[aventurineswife]

A kinda specific and maybe long but fun idea i had for a req:

Essentially, {and bare w me, i’m half asleep writing this lol} Reader x Sunday, and Reader is a childhood friend of his, who he loved, and someday when they were older, Reader was tragically killed in an incident. Sunday however, in a grief stricken state, decides to rebel against his original goal for the sweetdream paradise (penacony arc reference) and decides to shape it into a dream instead where he’s happily married to Reader, although for the sake of the dream he’s altered their memories. ending is essentially up to you!

{some additional ideas i had if you wanted to, were things like an argument between gopher and sunday, or robin and sunday, in whichever points of the story you wanted}

alternatively, a different Aventurine version would be interesting, mostly w the same set up but Sunday met Reader during Aventurine’s mission on Penacony, liked them, and Aven has to basically fight off the dream and Sunday.

but yeah, that’s pretty much it, everything else is up for creative liberties! i hope this one is at least somewhat interesting lol xx and srry if some of it doesn’t make sense 😓🤍

“Sometimes, the hardest part of letting go is realizing that the dream was never real”

Summary: In the idyllic yet hollow world of Sweetdream Paradise, Sunday crafts a perfect life with you—his lost love, altered memories and all—to escape the sorrow of reality. But as others begin to break through his illusion, and you start to remember fragments of a different fate, the dream begins to fracture. Torn between love and the harshness of truth, Sunday must finally face the choice to let you go, or remain forever in his self-made paradise.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, unrequited love, grief, loss, dreamscape, bittersweet ending, altered memories, memory manipulation, moral dilemma, angst, hurt/comfort, alternate reality, surrealism, slow unraveling, denial of reality.

Warnings: Grief, themes of manipulation, psychological trauma, implied death of Reader, reality distortion, emotional conflict, bittersweet resolution, morally ambiguous decisions.

A/N: Don't worry, anon! I appreciate all the details, the more details the more I can try to understand what you want exactly! Though I probably changed some bits of it here 😪

Sunday had always been proud of his role within Penacony, the creator of Sweetdream Paradise—a place where sorrow could be stilled, where suffering dissolved into an endless realm of serene dreams. It was a comforting reality he believed people needed, a soft oblivion to cradle them. Yet, in the depths of his mind, his peaceful philosophy hid a darker purpose, shaped by the ache of a loss he could never endure.

You had been his friend, a constant light in his youth, a companion who grounded his dreams. For as long as he remembered, you were there, with laughter that melted his worries and eyes that could see through his layered philosophies. But the day you were lost, taken too soon in a tragic incident, the world itself had hollowed out for him. The pain of your absence haunted him like a shadow, feeding a grief so deep that he was willing to defy his original purpose. In that moment of desolation, he turned Sweetdream Paradise into something far more personal—a realm where you still lived, where you loved him just as much as he had loved you.

In this new dream, Sunday made alterations. He reshaped your memories, softened the sharp edges of reality, and wove a seamless history where you had married him, where together, you built a life free of tragedy. In this dream, he could protect you eternally, shielded by his crafted illusion.

You woke to sunlight filtering through the windows, lying beside Sunday as the golden morning glow danced over his features. His eyes opened, catching you with a familiar warmth, and he reached over, brushing his fingers across your cheek.

"Good morning." he murmured, voice low and rich, as if savoring the simplicity of that greeting.

Every day was like this—a gentle, perfect rhythm that never seemed to break. You didn’t remember a world outside of this home, this life with him. And as you looked at him, you felt safe, loved, yet there was always a faint unease, like a fragment of something forgotten.

But the days went on, filled with laughter and love. Sunday seemed devoted to making sure you never doubted this world, his every word a reassurance that here, you were whole and happy.

One evening, as Sunday worked quietly at his desk, a visitor shattered the peace of his dream. It was Robin, standing just inside the doorway, her expression dark with a kind of wary sadness.

“Brother, you need to stop this,” she said, folding her arms. Her gaze fixed on him, seeing through the veneer of the dream. “This isn’t right. This… this paradise you’re keeping isn’t reality.”

Sunday straightened, his face hardening at her words. “Who are we to deny people peace, Robin? Haven’t we seen enough pain? Haven’t they?” His voice broke slightly, the facade slipping as he glanced toward where you sat by the fire, unaware of the intensity in his voice. He softened, as if trying to protect the dream from any trace of discord.

“You’re keeping people trapped. Yourself included. And for what? A fantasy? Is that really what they would have wanted?” Robin’s voice grew more urgent, her frustration showing. “They’re gone. You have to accept that.”

Sunday’s fists clenched at her words, every fiber in his body resisting the truth. “How could you understand?” he whispered. “In this place, they’re alive. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m giving them peace. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Robin stared at him, her gaze a mix of pity and sorrow. “At what cost, Brother? You’re keeping yourself from moving on, holding them hostage in a world that isn’t even real.”

In an alternate version of Penacony, Sunday’s paradise faced an even stranger twist. Aventurine, the cunning Stoneheart known for his strategic mind, was on his own mission in Sweetdream Paradise, seeking information that only Sunday could provide. But as he delved into the fabric of this dreamscape, he found himself questioning the reality around him, the shimmering dream where Sunday lived an idyllic life with you.

Aventurine confronted Sunday one night, his tone half-amused, half-concerned. “Interesting setup you have here,” he remarked, eyes gleaming with curiosity as he took in the flawless surroundings. “I almost believed it myself… almost. But what happens when the dream can’t hold itself together anymore?”

Sunday’s gaze narrowed, his protective instincts flaring. “What do you mean by that?”

Aventurine shrugged, his gaze flicking to you, sitting quietly, oblivious to the tension. “Everyone in this place… it’s all too perfect, isn’t it? You’re clinging to a memory, one that doesn’t belong here.”

In a rare flash of anger, Sunday stepped forward, his eyes darkening. “This isn’t any of your concern, Aventurine. Leave.”

Aventurine met his glare, his smirk slipping. “You think you’re the only one who’s loved and lost? Reality has its flaws, Sunday. It’s messy, painful… but it’s real. This—this is just a prison you’re keeping yourself in.”

Sunday’s voice trembled, caught between anguish and fury. “Better a beautiful dream than a brutal reality.”

Aventurine’s gaze softened for a brief moment, though he couldn’t abandon his sardonic tone. “But at least in reality, they would have remembered you for who you are, not a god in a gilded cage.”

In the end, it was you—within the dream—who finally confronted him, feeling the intangible pull of memories you didn’t recognize. “Sunday… something doesn’t feel right,” you whispered one night, as he sat beside you. “I keep… remembering pieces of something different, something that feels like it wasn’t supposed to end this way.”

Sunday’s face grew pale, fear creeping into his eyes. “No, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re here. We’re together. Isn’t that enough?”

But as you searched his eyes, you could feel the truth breaking through, the dream trembling under the weight of reality. “Sunday, what are you not telling me?”

He looked away, his heart shattering as he realized he couldn’t keep you here forever. Slowly, he whispered, “I… I just wanted to keep you safe. To give us a life that didn’t end in sorrow.”

With a trembling hand, you reached out, brushing a tear from his cheek. “It’s okay to let go. You have to keep going… even if it means letting me go.”

Sunday’s shoulders shook, the dream beginning to unravel around them, pieces of the illusion fading as he looked into your eyes one last time. “I… I don’t know if I can.”

But in the final moments, he felt your hand slip away, leaving him alone in the vast silence of his own grief. And as he awoke from his dream, Sunday found himself in a world still plagued by loss, his heart hollow yet somehow freer. Though you were gone, he understood, at last, that he had to face reality, no matter how painful it was.

And in that pain, he found a fragile hope—a sliver of light breaking through the dark.

*cutely posts all my drafts that have been dying to see the light* 😇💖

[lordprettyflackotara]

sharp fangs || sam & colby || part two

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. sam and colby are vamps hehe🧛🏼‍♀️. TW: SMUT WITH PLOT. this fic contains blood, brief gore, murder but like it’s justified tbh. mainly you just have two vampire bfs obsessed with you lol. made this shit extra long. ps: part three will not take as long i promise. enjoy my beloved readers. MWAH <3

Sam and Colby absolutely adored you. You were the apple of their eye, the air that made them feel like they could breathe again. They couldn’t get enough of you, making a conscious effort to spend every moment they could with you. When you were away they’d clean your apartment. (Or snoop through your things.) When you went to sleep at night they’d take shifts watching over you while the other went out to hunt.

You were so darling while you slept, the contentment and peace on your face the sight of a lifetime to them. In all of their long years they had didn’t think they’d allow themselves to get attached to another human. After the first two hundred years they saw all of their companions die, leaving them alone with just one another. All of their past lovers met the same inevitable demise, death becoming an old friend of theirs.

The routine was beginning to become old, the two deciding interacting with humans was pointless. Humans were so fragile, so unfortunately disposable. Whoever they chose to get attached to could get hit by a bus and die, or catch a simple cold and it’d end the same. They shared the same fears with you, which they tried to repel by watching over you so heavily. You liked it in an odd way, having your two best friends become angels watching over you. Both Sam and Colby only shared two fears. They feared the day you’d unexpectedly die from a tragic occurrence. Turning you into one of them was out of the question, your soul deserving better than eternal damnation.

The only thing they feared more, was when you truly saw them for what they were. They knew everything about them was appealing to you. Their looks, their voice, even down to their scent. They believed you truly cared for them, but they weren’t convinced you actually comprehended how terrifying they could be. How savage and ruthless they could become. They feared once you realized this, a look of genuine horror spread across your face, you’d wish them away. Forever.

Often times they tried to ignore this fear. After all, right now you were standing in between them, asking them questions about being a vampire. Your fingers were intertwined with Sam’s, Colby’s arm lazily hanging over your shoulders. “Coffins?” You asked. Colby chuckled, an ice cold winter breeze flying past the three of you. “Did we bring coffins when we moved in?” He asked. You rolled your eyes, hoping the boys didn’t notice your visible shivering. They did.

It wasn’t unusual for the three of you to go out for a snack late at night, the empty streets allowing Sam and Colby to be visible without disguises or questions. “Alright alright. How about garlic? I may be Italian, you never know,” You asked. Sam had given you his jacket a few minutes ago, your lips still turning more white by the second. How had they not thought this through better? As the blonde looked down at your eyes, the soft doe kind that made their frozen hearts flutter, he remembered. Right, that’s why.

“Human food doesn’t bother us. You can make as much garlic bread to your hearts content,” Sam replied, placing a small kiss to the side of your head. Small snowflakes had entangled themselves in your hair, Sam’s lips forming a frown. You were willing to make yourself this cold and potentially sick for a twinkie? The three of you finally approached the tiny store, Colby handing you a wad of cash. “Jesus Christ, a twinkie does not cost more than a hundred dollars Colbs,” You gasped, looking at the wad of crisp and shiny hundred dollar bills. “I read about inflation all the time. Just get a few snacks so you won’t have to nearly freeze to death for a twinkie,” He insisted.

You smiled softly, placing a kiss on Colby’s cheek. “Alright i’ll be back,” You say, before dipping into the grocery store. Sam and Colby preferred to stand outside, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. “We didn’t have twinkies in our time right?” Colby asked. Sam let out a chuckle. “Dude we were actively there for the salem witch trials. We absolutely did not have twinkies,” He answered. Colby teasingly elbowed him, the two leaning against the brick wall outside of the store.

“Just double checking. Couldn’t recall if we were around to try those hyped up little rolls,” Colby told him. It was odd when they thought about it, how long they had roamed the earth. It was always just the two of them during life and then resurrection. They couldn’t help but feel like you were the final piece to the puzzle, the third to the trio. Yet they feared how long they’d actually have with you. Especially when you opted to eat twinkies a majority of the time instead of actual food. (Colby had agreed to learn how to cook just to get you to eat better.)

Sam’s ears twitched for a split second, the sound of footsteps flooding them. He looked around, both him and Colby as still as statues. “You hear that?” He asked the brunette. Colby nodded, equally as on alert. The weather was undoubtedly freezing. No economic crisis was occurring, there would be no reason for a regular human to be roaming the streets this late at night. “I’ll go check it out. Stay with her and i’ll meet you guys back at the apartment,” Colby huffed, dashing off into the night. The ringing of the bell attached to the store door rang, your happy face emerging into sight. You had already broken into one of your twinkies, taking a big bite. You went to hand Sam the wad of cash, before searching for Colby.

“Where’s Colby?” You asked, wiping the white cream off of your bottom lip. Sam’s mind briefly went to filth, before resuming to the matter at hand. He didn’t want to worry you, but he also didn’t want to lie. Since they had met you they had agreed to not lie, the truth something you’d have to handle if you wanted them around. “He’s off investigating something he heard. He’ll meet us back at the apartment,” Sam explained. You laced your fingers with Sam’s, allowing the blonde to walk you across the street. “You think it’s another one of your kind?” You asked, taking another bite of your twinkie.

Sam purposefully kept you on the side away from the road, ensuring no car would hit you if it came brawling your way. Especially with the icy roads, Sam knew human drivers would be unpredictable. (Big shocker: he wasn’t a fan of automobiles when they came out.) “I doubt it. This is our territory now. Our scent is everywhere,” Sam reassured you. You shoved the empty wrapper in your pocket, leaning on Sam for support as he walked you home. His body was cold and statue like, yet you found comfort the more you touched him.

The three of you didn’t want to make things confusing after you all met. After all, the sex was just supposed to be a one time thing. A peace offering in the boys minds. That’s what it was supposed to be. Yet the memory constantly lingering in the forefront of all of yours minds. There was a not so subtle craving that you all wanted it to happen again, the timing just not seemingly right. Sam and Colby didn’t believe in rushing things, even if you didn’t have all the time in the world as they did. Snow crushed underneath your sets of footsteps, Sam’s hearing acutely on alert for intruders.

Yet he couldn’t find it within himself to hear anything over the soothing sound of your heartbeat. It was music to his ears, the sound gratifying to him. It was so soothing in fact, it was distracting. This distraction created the perfect element of surprise for a man in a ski mask to emerge from the alleyway shadows, grabbing you. “Sam!” You screeched, thrashing against the criminals grasp. Sam was forced to let go of your hand, knowing he’d accidentally tear it off if he held onto you and played tug of war against the criminal. Sam could hear it now, the disgusting blood flowing through the lowlifes veins. He had been so blinded by how ethereal your presence was and now he was paying the price.

The flash of a blade sent Sam into an angry frenzy, baring his fangs at the attacker. “Sam! Help me! Colby!” You screamed, your voice echoing off of the alleyway walls. In the blink of an eye Colby was on the attacker, biting into the side of his neck. The grasp on you was released, your body falling to the ground. You quickly turned around, moving backwards on the icy sidewalk. Colby wasn’t feeding onto your attacker, his gaze was much more intense than that. Much more unhinged. He yanked his head backwards, tearing his throat apart. You barely had time to blink before Sam was on the other side of the attacker, copying Colby’s actions.

Clumps of flesh hit the ground, streams of blood flowing everywhere that you looked. Your attacker was long dead, your heart thumping so loud you thought it may burst out of your chest. You continued to back away, your back hitting a street lamp as you watched Sam and Colby. Any mortality they had, any sense of pride or self control had been washed away by the biggest wave. Neither of them were hungry, the taste of the attackers blood sickening. They received no satisfaction from feeding on him, their animalistic craving ordering them to tear the threat apart.

So they did, the man’s neck now a pile of unidentifiable blood and flesh. You swallowed, staring at your best friends. The ones who did your laundry and watched sitcoms shows with you. The ones who looked over you every single moment of the day, even when you didn’t want them to. The same ones who had once fucked you merciless, your life never having been the same afterwards. Blood coated both of their hands, the same crimson paint dripping down their chins and necks. Sam’s maroon sweater was now soaked, Colby’s leather jacket stained with splatters.

Sam dropped the attacker first, his eyes darting around in search of you. You were a pitiful sight, one Sam wished he didn’t have to see. You were on the ground, your back hugging the closest streetlight. Your hands were buried into handfuls of snow, your fingers turning red from the cold. Your eyes were widen, your gaze refusing to stray from him and Colby. Sam swallowed, the rancid taste of the attackers blood still coating his tongue. He walked in front of you, crouching down to your eye level. “I’m so, so sorry,” He whispered. You looked terrified, surely of them. Sam was very sure, his eyes soaking in what he figured to be the last time he’d see you.

Colby quickly joined his side, the corpse abandoned behind them. You had never seen so much blood before, the color seemingly everywhere you looked. “It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Colby cooed. He brought his hand up to your cheek, lovingly stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. The blood was staining your skin, the feeling unnatural and making you slightly uneasy. Yet, when you looked at the two killers in front of you, you felt nothing but pure awe. Sam was trying to find the words to say to you, expecting the worst. Colby didn’t seem to have the same thoughts as him, which only made the situation ten times worse.

“I-I-I-” You began stuttering, unable to form a coherent sentence. How could you do it? How could you ever thank them? They saved your life. The faint sound of sirens interrupted the conversation, the boys heads turning to the left at the same time. “Sorry princess the conversation is going to have to wait. Let’s get you home,” Colby said, scooping you into his arms. You curled up against his chest, the stench of blood flooding your nostrils as you nuzzled against his shirt.

\/

The boys had gotten you inside safely, setting you down on the couch gently. “Do you need anything? Water? Food?” Colby asked. There were only a handful of things a human could need, surely there were maybe five max. In his mind at least. Sam’s mind was soaring in the other direction, his mouth running dry. You shook your head no, meeting their gaze. “Thank you,” You said. Sam blinked a few times, trying to ensure he heard you correctly. “We’d do anything for you,” Colby answered, crouching in front of you. The blonde braced himself, sure this was the end.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do my best to protect you. I know what you’re doing to do and I just have to say that I-” Sam began, your widened eyes stopped him. Fuck, you really had no idea the power you had over them. The three forbidden words were on the tip of his tongue, the ones that would only make this harder. You quickly rose to your feet, cupping his face into your hands. Gratitude had washed over you, your body demanding to give them a reward. You couldn’t deny that although unsettling, the sight of them covered in your attackers remains made your heart skip a beat.

“I wanna thank both of you, for saving my life,” You say, looking up into Sam’s red orbs. A thousand thoughts ran through the blondes head, many of them thinking they had broke your sanity or something along those lines. “Are you not scared?” Colby asked, approaching you from behind and resting his hands around your waist. You shook your head no. “You both won’t hurt me,” You answered. Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t know that. You saw what we did. We ripped his throat apart. Tore him to shreds,” Sam huffed, “What exactly makes you so confident we wouldn’t do that to you?”

His words were hurtful, even if they did hit the hammer on the nail. “You did that to protect me. I know you. I know you both. You won’t hurt me,” You answered again, more confident this time. Colby exchanged a look with Sam, the gears in his brain finally turning the same way his were. “I think what Sam is trying to say is that what you just saw was a lot to process. It is for us, which means it has to mean even more to a human-” He began, your sharp eyes turning around to meet his. Your eyes were shooting daggers, a look Colby knew to not threaten. “Enough with the whole ‘weak human’ bullshit. I may not be immortal but I have a brain you know,” You snapped.

Yeah, Sam had came to the conclusion that they broke you.

“And what does your brain tell you about what you just saw? About the two blood soaked demons that are standing in your living room?” Sam questioned. Your facial expression softened, your eyes resuming their doe like fashion. “They’re telling me that you’re both vampires. Vampires with habits and tendencies I anticipated. Ones that don’t scare me,” You answered. Why didn’t they understand? Could they understand?

Your words seemed so sincere, both boys back on you. It was Colby in front of you this time, Sam’s chest pressing against your back. “We are so sorry you had to see that,” Colby told you. He grabbed your chin, guiding you to look up at him. They could hear your heart skip a beat, the blood smudging against your soft skin. “It’s okay. If it makes you guys feel better, you both look awfully hot covered in blood like this,” You say, biting your bottom lip. Sam pressed himself against your ass, his hands traveling up to your breast.

“Really, is that so?” Colby hummed, smirking down at you. He centered his thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down teasingly. “In that case, let us show you how sorry we really are,” Sam murmured into your ear, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. You groaned, his large hands kneading at your breast. “Open your mouth princess,” Colby muttered. You did so, flattening out your tongue on display. The brunette could feel himself getting hard, watching you eagerly suck his thumb as he put it into your mouth. The taste of blood coated your tongue, your pupils dilating as you looked into Colby’s eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” Colby praised. He removed his thumb from your eager mouth, replacing it with his lips. His taste made you feel drunk, your body becoming putty in between the boys as Sam tweaked your nipples. He chuckled darkly into your neck as they hardened under his ice cold fingertips. “Always so eager,” Sam murmured, sucking hickies onto your neck. He could feel your veins, hearing the blood flow through your delicate body. Colby’s tongue slid into your mouth, the brunette careful to not nip you with his fangs. Your desperation only made them harder, your sinful noises only becoming louder.

“Fuck, i’ve missed this,” Colby panted, pulling away from your lips. A thin string of saliva hung between both of your lips, your lips now swollen. “We’ve missed this,” Sam corrected, working on his third hickey. Colby dropped to his knees, eager to please you. “Let me taste you, fucking please, just wanna make tonight up to you,” Colby pleaded, his desperation washing over him. You could feel Sam’s hips roll against yours teasingly, ripping a groan out of your throat. “Answer him baby,” Sam encouraged, the smell of your arousal flooding his nose. You licked your lips, your balance unsteady.

Sam’s large hands kept you in place, his assault on your throat relentless. “Please, do whatever you want to me,” You whined, raking your fingers through Colby’s hair. The brunette quickly pulled down your skirt and stockings, accidentally tearing them in the process. “We’ll buy you new ones,” He muttered, bringing your panties down to your ankles. Your slick was drenched for them, Colby’s eyes blown with lust as he admired your cunt. This is all he could think about since the last time he saw you like this, so wet and desperate.

“Go on baby, use Colby’s tongue the way you need,” Sam said encouragingly. You pulled him towards you by his hair, his eager tongue lapping up your juices. Your knees almost buckled, Sam quick to keep you in place. The blonde was having a hard time restraining himself, your blood calling to him. Your smell was always so delightful and it only became more so when you were a moaning mess. “Sammy,” You whined, using your spare hand to grab his wrist. Colby’s lips sucked at your clit, making it harder to form coherent sentences.

“Yes baby?”

“Drink from me,” You panted, grinding against Colby’s face. Sam blinked, unable to deny or question your request. Your blood was sweeter than any others he had tasted, his body always yearning to have another taste of you. He slowly sank his sharp fangs into you, the piercing pain subsiding into a blinding euphoria. “Oh my God,” You whined, clawing at Colby’s hair. His large hands were keeping your thighs pried open, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Sam drank from your neck like a starving man. “Thats it princess, keep using me. Make yourself cum on my tongue,” Colby ordered, the sight of you crumbling enough to make him want to cream his pants.

Sam managed to pull himself off of you, panting as he did so. Your blood was so intoxicating, so addicting. It’s like you were made for them. He lapped at your neck, cleaning your wound as you felt a familiar knot form in your stomach. “Fuck fuck fuck,” You whimpered. Sam slithered one of his hands around your waist to keep you upright, using the other to guide your head to turn. He brought his lips to yours, swallowing each noise you made with his mouth. You could taste your own blood, the metallic taste sending you over the edge. You pulled at Colby’s roots are you came, your vision clouded with stars.

Colby emerged from between your thighs, bruises of where his hands had held your thighs apart already forming. Sam picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You smashed your lips against his, the boys bringing you to your bedroom. Your back hit your plush mattress, the boys switching positions. Colby stood in between your legs, undoing his belt. “You sure you can handle me princess? I won’t go easy on you like Sam,” He smirked, causing Sam to roll his eyes. You nodded eagerly, reaching behind you to undo Sam’s belt.

“I’m not just a human Colbs. I can handle whatever you throw at me,” You say, as cocky as you can muster. The boys exchanged mischievous looks, their cocks throbbing with excitement. You laid your head back, quickly helping Sam take off his pants. You could feel your core throbbing with desire, Colby making himself right at home in between your legs. He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, soaking in the feeling. You stuck your tongue for Sam, eagerly awaiting his cock. The mere sight of it was making your mouth water.

“You have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to fuck you,” Colby confessed, pushing himself inside of you. You moaned, your noises being muffled by Sam’s cock as he placed it inside of your mouth. The vibrations sent a chill down his spine, your name falling off of his lips. “Fucking hell, you’ve got to try her mouth,” Sam groaned, pushing himself down your throat deeper. Colby grinned as he bottomed out, your walls milking his cock.

“Trust me I remember, everything about her is a slice of heaven,” He replied, gripping your waist harshly. He began to move slowly, slithering one of his hands down to your clit. Your thighs trembled at the extra stimulation, Colby’s thrust speeding up rapidly. Both boys seemed to be in a state of heat, their hips moving faster than you could keep up. “You’re so pretty like this,” Sam praised, watching the shape of his cock go up and down your throat. Colby bit his bottom lip, his sinful noises threatening to spill out at a rapid rate.

“You’re taking me so well. Like you were made for me,” Colby grunted. He drew faster circles around your clit, your waterline flooding with tears as Sam’s cock abused the back of your throat. They were merciless, hell bent on making you cum whilst chasing their own highs. “Made for us,” Sam corrected, his orgasm coming quickly. He pulled himself out of your throat, watching as you stuck your tongue out, desperately trying to lick the underside of his cock. He jerked his shaft above you, depositing his seed directly into your mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot, my fucking God,” Sam panted, watching you eagerly swallow his cum. Your mouth was free to moan now, your mascara smudged and tears peaking at the corner of your eyes. “Just like that, please, feels so good Colbs,” You babbled. Colby grabbed both of your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. He felt impossibly deeper, his cock abusing your g spot as it pleased. “You’re fucking milking me princess, it’s like you want me to cum inside of you,” Colby moaned, his thrust relentless.

Sam snickered as he lowered himself near your ear. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? To be bred by him? By both of us? Such a dirty girl, wanting to be bred by demons,” Sam snickered, licking the side of your neck. You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm, your body beginning to tremble. “Shit, i’m gonna cum,” You warned. One of your hands found Sam’s squeezing it tightly as you felt your orgasm wash over you. He now felt what Colby felt before, the butterflies swarming around his stomach at the romantic gesture.

Colby’s hips stuttered, his thrust coming to a halt as he came inside of you. He slowly pulled out of you, collapsing on the other side of the bed. The rooms sounds consisted of your rapid breathing and heartbeat, for Sam and Colby at least. Colby stroked your hair as you calmed down, Sam’s hand never straying from yours.

“Hey guys?” You hummed. Sam could’ve jumped on his feet right then and there. Anything you needed. Anything you wanted. He’d eagerly walk to the ends of the earth to get it for you. “Yeah?” He replied, awaiting your orders. You giggled, looking over at him.

“Wanna have a round two?”

[senseandaccountability]

I never feel older, crasser or more like a dry, boring literature nerd than when people say they find non-ascended Astarion’s ending so sad and wish there was a better one. To me, this is one of the best written storylines in the game. In all of the RPGs I’ve played, even. It’s extremely emotionally rewarding and thematically satisfying and boy, am I not used to that from my favourite media. (Forever looking at you, Lucifer.) Is it bittersweet? Absolutely. But tragic? No. 

Astarion rejecting the ritual despite knowing what it means is anything but tragic - it's powerful, it's the best and most resilient in him shining through. Regardless of how shitty the circumstances were, he made a choice when he made that deal with Cazador. A choice that gave him two centuries of hell. His life as a puppet to Cazador was a tragedy, it left him with no choices, it limited his every move and infringed on the freedom of his mind. It had one driving force: to make him a malleable tool, to help up the stakes in an already viciously brutal system. 

In Cazador’s manor he is faced with a choice once again. To him, as obsessed with the ritual and the lure of power as he is during that questline, the circumstance must feel similar to the ones in that street corner when the Gurs had beaten him to death’s door. Death or power. Except it’s not. 

That’s not the deal and it never was. “Having it all” was never, ever on the table. (None of us can have it all outside of self-help books, come on.) There will be a sacrifice either way, just like there was when he sacrificed his autonomy and freedom for eternal life. Astarion’s quest is about seeing through the delusions and trappings of power. It’s about preserving a sense of self, humanity, your soul if you will, no matter how dire the circumstances. It’s about daring to hope that you can change.

“This is a gift, you know. Thank you, I won’t forget it.”

[megamindsupremacy]

So. ive been going through your billy batson tag bc im very normal and super hinged about this kid and you ARE right about Billy growing up the normal way and how that would effect him, but I need us all to consider the opposite: The Magic went "Ah, he's pure of heart bc he is but a lad", and not *letting* him grow up. Billy being immortal but stuck as a kid forever. The realization everyone is going to grow up w/o him. That he is *always* going to be a kid. That could be a very bad time too.

OH MY HEART. you're so right and i'm kissing you on the mouth. okay i need to marinate in this now stand by

so I think it's fairly accepted now that the Wizard chose Billy to be Shazam when he was so young because all of the previous Champions were adults, and that went Badly (see: Black Adam). So obviously, if the adults can do the whole superhero thing, then we should give the role to a kid. But then, to take it a step further: if the adults can't do the superhero thing, then we should make the next Champion stay a kid.

And like, it takes a hot minute for Billy to notice. Say he became CM at 8 - he doesn't know the average rate of growth for a boy. He just thinks he's not getting as tall as quickly as his peers. It's not like there's adult supervision around to go "hello small small child, why are you still small and a child?" I could see him going at least a few years before realizing there might be something wrong. Then it takes him a little bit to figure out what exactly is wrong, and then a little longer to be in denial, before he finally has to come to terms with, yeah, he really is 8 years old for the rest of forever.

I wonder how it affects him, mentally? Because you could go one of two ways: either he stays mentally an 8 year old forever and doesn't mature, although he gains knowledge and experience with time, or he does mentally mature and becomes an adult, just stuck in the body of a child.

For angst reasons, I like the second one, but realistically, the whole reason he's in this mess is because the Wizard wanted someone who was pure of heart to stay pure of heart. Why go through all the trouble to not let him physically age but allow his mind to change? So now we have an eternally "both mentally and physically a child" situation.

I feel like, when you're that young, you can't really... process how devastating that is? He's only a little kid - at that age, you can't even imagine turning 18 yet, much less living out the rest of your life as an adult. He doesn't know what he's lost. So instead of Billy angst, it's outsider POV angst. Everyone is growing old and watching Billy stay the same as always. I imagine he reveals his identity at some point, a while into being Captain Marvel, and they have a Twilight moment of "I'm 8" "....how long have you been 8?" ("no, but actually, we've known you for 12 years, you can't actually be 8. what do you mean 'a wizard did it'."). Everyone is just quietly mourning the person Billy could have become, had he not been chosen to be the Champion of Magic, meanwhile Billy is living out the eternal childhood dream of Superpowers + Adult Body w/o Adult Responsibilities. It's tragic in a way Billy can never comprehend because of what the wizard did to him.

Feel free to add onto this post!

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Annular Eclipse ଓ♱˚⋆

A long time ago, I binge-watched The Ancient Magus’ Bride and that decision came back to haunt me in my Church AU…… *evil laugh*

As always, thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this piece!! And to my dear mutuals, I hope you all suffer enjoy the sinful story of Cartaphilus! Pierro x Angel! Darling ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Tw:: yandere, blood, violence, death, suicidal ideation, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 5.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns, with a unique fate reserved for the one who goes by the name of Pierro.

♡ After the Cataclysm, Pierro led a group of survivors to Snezhnaya where they established a new home. For three centuries, it was a peaceful haven hidden from the divine gaze of God and the Church…until it was exposed by a traitor and destroyed with manmade flames. In the ensuing chaos, Pierro was the sole “survivor” in the sense that he managed to escape. The rest were critically wounded, buried alive, and left to suffer for all eternity.

♡ Having lost his second home, Pierro began a search for other Khaenri’ahns, only to be further disillusioned. Many communities had also fallen to ruin, if not from persecution but by their own madness. Others, blinded by dreams of death, had resorted to violence and witchcraft in their fruitless attempts to break the curse. And several individuals had embarked on quests for the Tree of Life, only to disappear far away from their homeland. In two more centuries, Khaenri’ah was reduced to a forgotten myth, and Pierro had lost all hope for his people.

♡ So when he gets into an accident, he sees no point in saving himself. If he were younger, he’d be horrified at the thought of falling off a cliff. At best, he’d end up with more scars albeit another permanent reminder of his tragic fate. As for the worst-case scenario, he’d become paralyzed, trapped below the cliff, doomed to eternity as a living corpse. But now, hanging off the edge by his fingertips, he considers the possibility that his head takes the brunt of the impact. A coma would be the closest thing to a reprieve from his waking hell.

♡ Just as his grip weakens, a hand reaches out and catches his wrist. The action is so sudden, so forceful, that Pierro has no time to think before he is pulled up and his back hits the grass. Above him, eclipsing his view of the sun, is the face of a stranger. A tearful expression. A kind gaze that seems to pierce through his soul.

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call for help?! You poor thing, I’m sorry for only seeing you now.”

“I am…” He averts your gaze and instead focuses on the sky. It is the color of twilight—a harmony of blues, oranges, and reds that pale in comparison to the crimson skies of his nightmares. “...fine. Thank you for your kindness.”

♡ Once the shock wears off, Pierro takes a careful look at his savior. You have the appearance of a typical human, roughly the same age as he was when his body stopped aging. Definitely not a Khaenri’ahn, given your lack of cursed marks and star-shaped pupils. Neither are there any religious symbols on your clothing, which is a relief. As for your tears shed on his behalf…he’ll chalk it up to pity.

♡ At your insistence, you treat him to a meal at the nearest inn. When Pierro introduces himself as an ordinary traveler, you make a similar claim and suggest journeying together. It is a tempting offer—the both of you are alone with no destination in mind, and you seem harmless. So against his better judgment, Pierro accepts your proposal.

♡ Over time, he warms up to his new companion. You are kind, competent, a bright presence in his life. Traveling with you is like seeing the world with new eyes—you lead him to bustling cities, picturesque forests, places teeming with life. The only downside is your visits to the Church for prayers and chats with the local priests, but you at least seem to be an open-minded believer. You always tell Pierro that he doesn’t need to follow along but he does so anyway, if only to evade suspicion and admire the religious art with you.

♡ Other than that, you don’t reveal much about yourself. But you aren’t one to pry into Pierro’s past so he gives you the same courtesy. At times, he finds himself looking at you fondly, feeling a spark of physical attraction, dreaming of a happy future with you. But those delusions are always dashed by the fact of your humanity, so he instead resolves to cherish what little time you have left before death claims your soul.

♡ That was his goal until he begins to notice certain…oddities. It’s common for the two of you to share a tent, a room, sometimes even a bed. Neither of you are fazed by it, especially when Pierro’s main concern is concealing his cursed marks with makeup. But a few months into your travels, he makes a quiet realization: In those nights of shared slumber, not once has he fallen asleep without feeling your gaze on him.

♡ At first, he assumes that you merely sleep later and wake up earlier than him. But every time Pierro wakes up in the middle of the night, you immediately sit up and tend to him, acting as energetic as usual. Neither do you appear lethargic after nights when it is difficult to sleep. So he puts it to the test by regularly chatting with you late into the night; you always follow along, not once sounding tired nor in want of sleep. Once, he talks to you all night long and in the morning, while Pierro is plagued with fatigue, you look perfectly awake. And only when he subtly points it out do you yawn and go back to bed.

♡ Other mysteries follow. There is the time the two of you trekked through a barren wasteland and ran out of food. It took you two days to reach civilization and while Pierro was starving, you never complained about hunger. If anything, you still managed to walk and fight off beasts at your usual energy levels. And on the rare chance that Pierro is injured, you are the one who treats his wounds…and they always heal at an unnaturally fast pace.

♡ A year into your travels, he decides to look for answers. One night, he shares a bed with you and feigns sleep. For the next few hours, he just lies there and takes note of your unnatural way of sleeping—no slowed breaths, no involuntary movements, yet the persistent feeling that he is still being watched. Shortly after midnight, he pulls out a dagger from under his pillow and aims it at you.

♡ It was only a test to see if you’d react quickly and reveal your ruse. Which is exactly what you do, eyes fluttering open and your hand catching the dagger before Pierro can stop short of stabbing your chest. The look on your face is calm, utterly devoid of fear, and you make no move to leave the bed. You just stare at him with the same piercing gaze.

“Good morning,” you tell him. “Are you going to explain the sudden wakeup call? I don’t believe this is rooted in any Khaenri’ahn practices.”

At the mention of his homeland, Pierro’s grip on the dagger tightens. “So it appears that my suspicions were not unfounded. Answer me, are you a spy of the Church?”

Your answer is a benevolent smile. A soft light shines from your body as a halo—silver, pierced with nails—appears behind your head, followed by a wispy veil. Luminous wings emerge from your back, caging Pierro in a feathery embrace.

Your hand, marked with a bloodstained scar, wraps around his wrist.

“I’m your guardian angel,” you whisper.

♡ Technically, your statement is untrue. In a calm voice, you explain that Khaenri’ahns can’t be assigned guardian angels due to their immortality. Moreover, most angels harbor contempt for his kind though you are a rare exception, having taken pity on Pierro and chosen to become his unofficial guardian. The last part triggers an offended response—are you mocking him?

♡ As for your true nature, you’re the leader of the Archangels. As an angel of the Third Sphere, you are one of the closest to humanity, a divine messenger with the additional tasks of providing blessings and guiding humans towards the path of righteousness. Only, you’re currently on a ten-year “break;” it just so happened that you noticed Pierro at the start of your sabbatical.

♡ Once he is confident that you won’t smite him in cold blood, he goes to sleep—it’s been a long night and fatigue will only dull his senses. When he wakes up, he can almost believe that last night’s events were a dream…until you loom over him in your true form, wishing him a good morning. After a long conversation, he decides to continue traveling with you. That way, he can keep a close eye on you and gain some useful knowledge.

♡ Thus resumes your journey. In addition to Pierro’s distrust, there are major changes to your dynamic. You still travel in your human guise but you switch to your true form when it’s just the two of you. Since angels don’t need food or sleep to sustain themselves, you stop eating with him unless you’re in public. At night, only one bed is needed and you simply watch over Pierro, wishing him a peaceful slumber. Your gentle gaze is always the last thing he sees each day, though it takes months before he can fall asleep comfortably.

♡ He also learns about your nightly pastimes. As it turns out, while Pierro is asleep, you like to fly around the city to help lost souls. Just small acts of kindness in your human form…and if needed, divine interventions in the Church. It explains why he often wakes up to news about corrupt priests who experienced “visions of an angel” and publicly confessed their sins.

♡ Along your journey, you also stop by the homes of the humans previously assigned to you. At the beginning of each visit, you go to the cemetery and speak to their grave. Afterwards, you bring Pierro to their favorite places and reminisce about their lives. When he asks why you can’t simply see them in Heaven, you give him a sad smile and explain that the deceased reside in a realm beyond the jurisdiction of angels. In a paradise where every soul is purged of sin, what use is there for an angel’s guidance?

♡ You mourn the lives of angels as well. It comes as a shock to Pierro, the idea that even an angel is susceptible to death. To which you explain that many of your divine siblings were killed by demons. And because afterlife does not exist for spiritual beings, both species simply cease to exist once their lives have ended. As for your former brethren, they cut all ties with you after their descent.

♡ Slowly, Pierro grows to trust you again. It helps that you were able to prove yourself a year later by saving him from your own kind. Granted, he could suspect that it was merely an act but the sight of a Principality cowering before you, their cassock staked to the floor by silver nails, is quite convincing. Not to mention your cold gaze overflowing with wrath.

“So tell me. Why exactly did you attack my dear human?”

The room is silent, save for the younger angel’s whimpers. To think that a few minutes ago, Pierro had been sleeping peacefully. Now he stands beside you, blood trickling from a cut under his scarred eye, still gripping his unused sword.

“I…” Despite being a rank above you, his attacker is clearly terrified. “But ______, that man…he is one of the accursed sinners! He—”

“Now, now.” You kneel to their level but all kindness is lost in your tone. More nails appear out of thin air, all pointing towards the angel’s body. “Look me in the eye when I am talking to you.”

♡ In the end, the angel kneels before Pierro and begs for forgiveness. He accepts their apology, but not without harsh words and a swipe of his sword against their face. After they leave, you worriedly turn to Pierro and heal his injuries. Thanks to your powers, all of his wounds close up without a trace. Still, when you take your hand off his face, what he sees in the mirror is not his healed cheek but the cursed marks exclusive to Khaenri’ahns.

*✧･ﾟ

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Despite the nature of the attack, you are the one acting emotional. A tear rolls down your cheek as you trace the cursed side of Pierro’s face.

“You need not apologize on behalf of your brethren,” he mutters. He glances at his right arm, sleeve pulled up to reveal a similar pattern of blue veins and blackened skin. “...or your Heavenly Father. And I believe I’ve told you countless times not to waste your tears on me.”

“Still.” Shaking your head, you look him in the eye. “How can I not cry every time I gaze into your soul? I wish I could save you, put an end to your suffering…but it’s beyond my capability.”

“So why do you still devote yourself to me, ______?”

______. It is the false name you go by in the human realm, spoken by every person who has known you as their guardian angel. As for your true name, it remains a mystery to Pierro.

Still, he’d like to believe that he is the human who knows you best. He knows that you are the First Archangel, one of the oldest beings in existence. He knows that you were opposed to the Cataclysm but powerless in stopping it. He knows that your decade of rest was caused by an accumulation of stress, an endless cycle of giving and saving and sacrificing which will only continue in a few years’ time.

And what then? At the end of your journey, will you still have time for him? Or is he truly cursed to drift aimlessly in eternal solitude?

His half-mask rests on a nearby drawer, a relic from his second home. He picks it up, thumb pressed against a painted gold tear.

“You astound me,” he continues. “You, of all people, know that salvation is forever beyond my grasp. And yet you continue to spare me absolute grace. Anyone else would have deemed me a lost cause.”

“That is because I love you.”

At that, Pierro nearly drops his mask. He turns to you, starry eyes wide with wonder. “Can you kindly repeat that?”

But the moment he sees your face, he realizes his folly.

“I love you,” you tell him, a soft look in your eyes, “as I love all humans.”

Has kindness ever sounded so cruel?

“...I understand.” He puts down his mask, pride shattered. “Such is to be expected from a being for whom the love for humanity is inherent.”

A love which he and his compatriots are no longer beholden to.

“But of course.” At that, your countenance turns reverent. Your wings fold inwards, and you place a bloodstained hand over your chest. “An angel’s purpose is to serve God and to save His creations. Beyond that, there is no other point to our existence.”

Silence. This time, Pierro doesn’t bother to hide his judgment.

“Well, that is our initial reason,” you add, noticing his expression. “After all, what’s not to love when your kind is capable of so many wonderful things? Really, you never fail to surprise us.”

“How so?”

“I’ll confess, many of us angels were once in awe of Khaenri’ah,” you admit. “Think of it: Your people found a way to create life, sorcery, powers that were once exclusive to God. Had I met you during your days as a royal mage, I surely would have been impressed.”

Hard to say. Despite his previous status, Pierro hasn’t practiced Khaenri’ahn sorcery in years. It’s likely that his powers have eroded alongside his spirit.

“Then only a century after the Cataclysm, there was the Angel-Killer who performed miracles using our flesh. As a matter of fact…I made the mistake of assigning his first victim to him.”

Your grief isn’t lost on him. The bed creaks as you take a seat next to Pierro, adjusting the chain of mourning lockets around your waist. It bears mementos of both humans and angels.

“Thirteen angels lost their lives to him, including two of my dearest siblings. Needless to say, we were all relieved when Il Dottore finally died, though I had to be given a century’s worth of rest to recover from grief. Sohreh, Pasithea, Oizys…I still think of them to this day.”

Il Dottore. He is an infamous figure in history, a priest whose sins rivaled those of Khaenri’ah. And yet even he was granted the mercy of death.

 “And there are the humans I was blessed to watch over,” you tell him, eyes shining with tears. “I remember all of their names, their smiles, every achievement they made in their short lives. And I’m sure that there will be more in the future.”

That is the final nail in the coffin.

“You are right.” With that, Pierro leaves the bed. “As such, there is no need for you to dwell on how the world is now. I have no doubt that many souls owe their salvation to you, ______, and anyone would be a fool to dismiss your efforts.”

“...Thank you. It means a lot.”

You don’t let him leave, however. A hand around his wrist is all it takes for Pierro to stop, to yield to your embrace. In the dim room, you are the only source of light, an idol of unparalleled benevolence. Divine, beautiful, yet never within his reach.

“Eight more years,” you tell him. In your eyes, his reflection has never looked more hopeful. “That is the amount of time we have left. And until then, I will never leave your side.”

*✧･ﾟ

♡ The next eight years are content. More travels. Deep conversations. Peaceful nights. Another angelic encounter, in which a subordinate merely reported to you and avoided Pierro’s gaze. At one point, you reveal to him that the Tree of Life is no longer in the human realm, eliminating any hope of breaking the curse. His devastation is softened by your comfort, and he can only imagine the reactions of his compatriots if they knew this truth.

♡ Not that he has anyone to share it with. In the Church of Fontaine, Pierro is surprised to recognize the head priest as a Khaenri’ahn. She is only a descendant and thus spared from the curse—a blessing for Arlecchino, a tragedy for her ancestor who likely mourned the generations between them. After their chat, Pierro leaves without divulging her lineage. It’s enough to know that one of his kind is leading a fulfilling life, though he finds it ironic that a Church ended up in a Khaenri’ahn’s hands.

♡ Other than her, there is the familiar face he spotted in Inazuma. Blond hair, blue eyes with star-shaped pupils, a distinctive half-mask…but before Pierro can approach Dainsleif, you grip his wrist and enable him to see the eagle-winged demon clinging to his former comrade. In a fearful whisper, you explain that she is one of Hell’s strongest demons, the slayer of countless angels. And when she turns in your direction, Pierro feels the weight of her crimson-gold glare. In the end, the two of you walk past them, preventing what could have been a bloody reunion.

♡ As your sabbatical reaches its end, Pierro finds himself making the most of your remaining time together. He smiles at you, holds your hand first, asks you more personal questions. Your travels also end in a surprise destination—a forest near Snezhnaya, concealed with divine mist. Leading the way, you explain that it was a meeting place for you and your closest siblings until they all perished, including the Virtue who created it. And when you turn to Pierro, asking if the area suits him…he accepts the gift with full gratitude.

♡ The last year is spent constructing a humble house in the heart of the forest. On the day of your departure, the two of you enjoy a final meal together. It’s bittersweet with recollections of your travels, though the mood dampens when Pierro asks about your angelic duties. With a sad smile, you tell him that you have a lot of work to do. At some point in your journey, you even laid eyes on a young human and applied for a position as their guardian angel.

♡ At midnight, Pierro goes to bed and you wish him good night for the last time. He only closes his eyes when you disappear, when he no longer feels your gaze on him, when the residual warmth of your embrace has been chilled by the night air. When he wakes up in the morning, you are nowhere to be found.

♡ In the following months, Pierro develops a new routine in the forest. Hunting, foraging, visiting the neighboring cities, admiring the aurora-colored sky, even practicing his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. He doesn’t see you again but there are hints of your visits—a luminous white feather, seeds for fauna exclusive to Mondstadt, a wound that healed overnight. Eventually, he gets used to sleeping in solitude again.

♡ One day, he decides to visit his old home. He knows it is futile to seek out his people; after two centuries, their bodies must’ve fully decayed and mixed with the soil. Still, he might as well see what the Church did with the area…and if he can take revenge on the traitor. So he packs his bags, leaves the forest, and travels to the other side of Snezhnaya.

♡ …There’s nothing left. When he reaches his destination, he finds a glorious city built over the mass grave of his people. Only the cold of eternal winter welcomes him back, but the entire city—the devout Snezhnayans, the stories of the city’s origins, the magnificent church in place of his old house—is unfamiliar. Not even the traitor remains. Perhaps they, too, were given a coffin, forever trapped below layers of ice and concrete.

♡ He gets an answer on his way back to the forest. Near the border of Snezhnaya, Pierro is ambushed by a group of heretics…and when he demands an explanation, their leader holds up a preserved eye, the pupil shaped like a four-pointed star. As their fight continues, Pierro deduces their motives—to achieve immortality using the flesh of Khaenri’ahns. It’s pure mockery to hear those fools refer to his curse as a blessing, but his warnings fall on deaf ears as he is outnumbered.

♡ Just as he is about to lose hope, a bright light shines above him. It’s you, in all of your angelic glory, commanding the heretics to let him go. Most of his attackers fall to their knees, in awe of your divine presence, but their leader interprets it as a sign that Pierro is truly the person they’re after. They swing their sword at him…only for their entire group to be impaled by your nails.

♡ It’s a bloody sight. But once your wrath has subsided, you fly down to Pierro and check his condition. You’re incoherent, healing his wounds with trembling hands, apologizing for your late arrival. He assures you that he is fine, only to be interrupted by a sudden ray of light. But this one is blindingly bright, coming from the sky, the same holy light which shone upon Khaenri’ah during the Cataclysm.

♡ It hits him just then: In harming those humans for his sake, you’d violated one of God’s orders. Yet in the midst of His divine wrath, you muster a false smile and tell Pierro to go home. Then you fly up into the sky, disappearing above the clouds along with the holy light. He does as he is told, but not without killing all of the heretics to ensure that they won’t come after him or more Khaenri’ahns. As for the traitor…he doesn’t bother to ask for their location.

♡ The forest is the same when he returns. The next few hours pass by in a blur—unpacking,  checking the animal traps, cooking dinner, and so on. The whole time, he can’t stop worrying about you. He doesn’t know if God would listen to his prayers but he tries, anyway; it’s not like he can help you in any other way.

♡ He goes to bed early, only to jolt awake when a flash of light illuminates the bedroom. When he rushes to the window, it’s just in time to see a falling star. It shoots through the sky, outshining the auroras, a beautiful sight if not for the fact that it seems to be drawing closer to him. It disappears from his range of vision, followed by a deafening sound and a severe earthquake. Then the world falls silent, returning to its tranquil state.

♡ After a few minutes, Pierro leaves his house to investigate. Seeing how the meteor bypassed the divine barrier of the forest, he doubts it was a natural phenomenon. You once told him that the Fourth Order of angels, the Dominions, are in charge of the celestial bodies—could they have been ordered to destroy his third home?

♡ Thankfully, the destruction is limited to a crater at the edge of the forest. But instead of a meteor, he finds you curled up in pain. Fragments of your halo pierce your body. Your right wing is gone; all that remains of it are clipped feathers and sawed bone. Most prominent are the curved horns jutting from your head, covered in a mix of blood and torn skin. You became a demon.

♡ Your half-conscious cries prompt him into action. Carefully, Pierro carries you to his house and treats your wounds. When he notices your hand on your stomach, he remembers what you said about demons needing food and sleep to survive. So he heats up some soup and feeds it to you; and once your hunger has subsided, he tucks you in bed. In your delirium, you can only muster a single sentence before falling asleep.

“Pierro? I’m sorry…it’s my fault, not yours.”

“Silence. We may talk tomorrow. But tonight, you must rest.”

♡ That night, you sleep for the first time. Pierro watches you all night, checking your pulse every so often. When you wake up, the sun is high above the sky and Pierro has already cooked lunch. You’re more coherent now, able to feed yourself, though you wince in pain every so often. And when Pierro asks about your descent, your expression darkens.

♡ In a shaky voice, you explain that the heretics’ ambush had been a test from God. It was fated to occur at the same time as an important event in Heaven, the decennial meeting between God and the leaders from all Nine Orders. As soon as Pierro’s name was brought up, you were quick to defend him. And when you were informed of the attack, you stormed out of the meeting to save him, fully aware that it would bring about your downfall.

♡ And despite it all, you’re the one apologizing to him—for your late arrival, for the danger he was put through, for the “burden” of taking care of you. At the last part, Pierro finally finds the words to chastise you, to say that you won’t achieve anything by wasting your tears on Heaven.

“I wish you would not think so lowly of me. After all these years, do you truly believe that I would harbor anything but gratitude towards you?”

♡ That shuts you up. For the next few weeks, you meekly accept Pierro’s care—he cooks for you, dresses your wounds, lets you sleep in his bed. There is only one problem: Your body refuses to heal. Blood continues to seep from your wounds, and you’re in a perpetual state of pain. Still, he faithfully tends to you day and night. It’s the least he can do for you.

♡ One day, he leaves the house to pick fruit and comes back to find a dark silhouette in his bedroom window. He rushes inside, armed with a weapon, to find a demon. Only, they’re kneeling by the bed, holding your hands, shedding tears of joy. That is when he notices the bloodstained scars on their hands, their tattered veil, your kind words for them…they, too, are a fallen Archangel.

♡ All peace, however, is dashed when your former subordinate tells Pierro that they are bringing you “home,” in other words Hell. As for the matter of your health, they claim that while your divine punishment is unheard of, they should be able to find a cure…from Il Dottore of all people. And despite your conflicted expression, it’s clear that you are seriously considering their invitation. Only for Pierro to take that choice away from you.

“And what makes you believe that I would allow ______ to leave our home?”

♡ Prior to you, Pierro never would’ve dared to challenge a spiritual being. But now, after all he’s been through, he takes a step forward and tells the demon to leave. It doesn’t take long for their argument to turn physical. But before the demon can smite him, Pierro defends himself with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. They’re a formidable opponent, however, and the fight continues until he aims a galaxy-like aura at their heart. Quickly, you protect your former subordinate with a shield of rusty nails, only for the element to refract and hit you instead.

♡ Much to everyone’s relief, however, it has a different effect on you. Your feathers take on a black tint and a deep blue iridescence. The same thing happens to your horns. Most importantly, all of your wounds close up, leaving scars identical to Pierro’s cursed marks. And when he rushes to your side, asking if you are all right, you breathily tell him that you feel so much better.

♡ That is what convinces the demon to leave, but not without promising to return once they’ve informed the Devil. With peace restored in your home, the two of you go downstairs for lunch. You still need Pierro to support you, but it’s the first time you’ve managed to walk in your new form. And your appetite is bigger, healthier compared to your previous portions.

♡ After a few days however, the effect wears off. Your body loses its blue luster, your feathers fade to their original color, your pain returns. Once you’ve fully reverted to your original state, Pierro decides to try out his Khaenri’ahn sorcery again. This time, he holds your wrist and carefully channels his power into you…and it produces the same healing effect.

♡ For the sorcery which doomed his nation to save the life of his beloved…the irony leaves him at a loss of words, on the verge of laughing. But it does explain why you landed in Pierro’s home instead of Hell, and why God allowed the two of you to reunite. The knowledge brings a dark smile to his face. You’re at his mercy now, dependent on him for all eternity.

♡ When he faces you, he can tell that you’ve reached the same conclusion. Still, you entertain the thought of moving to Hell—surely, there must be a way for you to live without forcing Pierro to expend his energy on you. That is when he grips your hands, pulls you towards him, and tells you that you aren’t leaving him. If the two of you are truly fated to suffer, then it is only right that he returns all of the love you have given him.

♡ It’s easy to persuade you. After all you’ve experienced, you’re tired so you just nod and lean into his embrace. And in the following days, you slowly adjust to your new life. You help Pierro around the forest. A new bed is built, to fit two people. At night, the two of you engage in your usual bedtime conversations but you’re the one who falls asleep first.

♡ When your former subordinate returns, Pierro stands his ground. With you asleep, he is able to fight them outside and easily subdue them; he even had the wisdom to enhance his weapons with blood from your used bandages. And with his argument that any attempt on his life is equal to risking yours, they have no choice but to accept your situation.

♡ You’re still asleep when he returns to your shared bedroom. Careful not to wake you, he changes out of his bloody clothes and leaves his sword on the table, next to his old mask. Then he takes off his glove and traces your features with his cursed hand. And when you open your eyes, the look he gives you is one of pure hope.

“Pierro? What time is it?” you mumble.

“Far too early,” he replies. “Go back to sleep. I will join you shortly, ______.”

“...All right.” Yawning, you snuggle into the pillow and close your eyes. “Can you wake me up later? I don’t want to oversleep again.”

He smiles, caressing your cheek. “If you wish.”

It doesn’t take long for you to return to the world of dreams. Your sleeping face is truly a wonder to behold—an expression so tranquil, well-rested, vulnerable to his kiss.

“And when you awake, I want you to tell me your true name.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

..…Don’t ask me how Pierro ended up with the highest word count in this AU. All I can say is that it was very cathartic to make him suffer, which is a recurring theme in his fics. If y’all enjoyed his story, do let me know (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

Also, soft launch for the next couple + story!! I’m rlly excited to write for Dainsleif, and just know that he’s in for a lot of surprises <3

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @naraven @euniveve @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @oofasleep @mistymem0ryy @lazyroseart @teabutmakeitazure

[bowlofworms]

Ya know, when watching NPMD it’s easy to think that Grace choosing to sacrifice her chastity was the best option. Either Steph had to kill Pete, Pete had to kill Steph, or Grace has sex. It seems so easy. This is not to say that this wasn’t the morally correct decision, but

that was THE most important thing to her. It was what she cherished most. It was equivalent to killing someone, at least for Grace. Losing her chastity is just as psychologically damaging to Grace as killing someone.

And to those who don’t have experience with purity culture, to Grace this cannot be undone. She is not only irrevocably changed, but also irreparably damaged. She is eternally tainted. She engaged in the pleasures of the flesh and that’s a BIG sin. Lust is one of the seven deadly sins.

I would argue that killing someone is actually more acceptable (self defense, death penalty, war, ect) to an evangelical like Grace than it is to engage in, not just premarital sex, but sex with someone she wasn’t even dating.

And, not that having to kill someone you love won’t haunt you for the rest of your life, but losing her chastity is also going to haunt Grace for the rest of her life. Her chastity is something she’s supposed to give to her husband on her wedding night. So it’s ruined that for her. It will haunt her every time she showers. Every time someone even mentions sex. Every time she prays. Every single Sunday. This will HAUNT Grace. She will forever view herself as damaged, impure, and unworthy of salvation.

Yes she’s influenced by the Lords in Black now, but the conditioning since birth doesn’t go away in an instant. In fact, the Lords in Black probably ENJOY her suffering. That she is suffering because she worships them.

Not to mention, Grace’s family will likely disown her, her church (her social circle too) will turn on her and reject her, and she is still gonna be hated at school anyways.

She lost everything. Most tragically though, she lost what made her Grace Chastity. The nerdy prude.

[elliecore4eva]

Future Snippets of Ellie & Sunshine!Reader

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Sunshine! Joels Daughter! Reader

1. Morning Routines (or Lack Thereof)

Ellie wakes up to your weight half on top of her, your face buried in her neck. She can feel your slow, even breathing, the warmth of your body wrapped around her like a human-sized blanket.

She should get up. Should.

But then you make the softest little noise in your sleep, curling in closer.

Ellie?

Yeah, she's never moving again.

Joel finds you both like that an hour later when he stops by, knocking once before letting himself in like he pays rent.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, crossing his arms as Ellie blinks up at him sleepily. "How the hell do you ever get anything done?"

"I don't," Ellie mutters, wrapping her arms tighter around you. "She's too comfy."

Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re hopeless."

2. Tipsy Bison Teasing (Again)

"Okay, but seriously?" Jesse leans forward, a familiar grin creeping onto his face. "How does it feel, knowing your entire reputation is ruined?"

Ellie glares. "I never had a reputation."

"Oh, you did," Dina corrects. "Broody, intimidating, sometimes an asshole? Now you just follow her around like a lost puppy."

Frank, sipping his drink, nods solemnly. "Tragic, really."

Bill just grunts in agreement.

Ellie leans into you, tucking her face against your shoulder.

"At least my girlfriend likes me," she mutters.

You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I do."

Jesse groans dramatically. "Ugh. Disgusting. Get a room."

Ellie smirks. "Gladly."

3. The Town’s Favorite Person

You have a way of making everyone feel special.

You check in on Maria, helping her with whatever town duties she’s juggling. You make small gifts for the kids in town, little hand-sewn patches for their jackets, bracelets, or sometimes just fresh-baked cookies.

Even Bill, gruff and eternally skeptical, has warmed up to you.

"Damn kid," he mutters one day, watching as you hand a freshly baked pie to one of the older folks in town. "How the hell do you have time for all this?"

"I like taking care of people," you shrug. "And it makes them happy."

Bill just grunts. But later, Ellie finds a fully upgraded rifle sitting outside your shared place, courtesy of Bill.

"No one better touch a damn hair on her head," he mutters when Ellie thanks him.

Ellie just smirks. "Trust me, man. I’d burn the whole town down first."

4. The Proposal (Sort Of?)

It’s not planned. Not even a little.

Ellie is just watching you one evening, sitting across from her on the porch, laughing at something Joel said.

And it just hits her.

Like a fucking freight train.

She wants forever.

"Marry me."

You blink, mid-laugh. "What?"

Ellie freezes.

Joel chokes on his coffee. "What the fuck?"

Bill mutters something about kids these days having no sense of timing.

Frank looks delighted.

You? You just smile.

"Yeah, okay."

Ellie stares.

"Wait. Really?"

"Guess you’ll have to wait and see."

Ellie groans, dropping her face into her hands. "You're actually evil."

"Yeah, but I’m your evil."

Ellie looks up, grinning. "Damn right you are."

Joel shakes his head. "You're both insufferable."

Bill just grunts in agreement.

Frank wipes away a fake tear. "Young love. So tragic, so beautiful—"

Ellie throws a pillow at him.

5. "Our Favorite Girl"

Ellie leans against the counter at the Tipsy Bison, arms crossed, waiting.

"Let’s go see our favorite girl," she mutters under her breath.

She doesn’t notice Bill and Frank at the bar, both of them pausing mid-conversation.

Frank slowly raises an eyebrow. "Did you just say ‘our’ favorite girl?"

Bill grunts. "Knew it. She’s got the whole damn town wrapped around her finger."

Ellie blinks. "Wait. No, I meant—"

Frank smirks. "No, no, keep going. Tell us how you’re completely whipped."

Ellie groans, burying her face in her hands. "Why do I even talk in public?"

6. The Rainstorm

It starts as a light drizzle. Nothing bad, nothing worth stopping for.

Then it turns into a full-blown downpour.

You and Ellie sprint toward your house, laughing, soaked to the bone.

As soon as you’re inside, you shiver, rubbing your arms.

Without a word, Ellie pulls off her hoodie and tugs it over your head. It’s warm, a little big on you, and smells just like her.

You blink up at her, grinning. "You’re gonna get cold."

Ellie shrugs. "Doesn’t matter. You looked colder."

You step closer, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"You’re a softie," you whisper.

Ellie rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

But she’s smiling.

7. “I’d Burn the Whole World for You”

Ellie isn’t the jealous type. Not really.

But when some new guy in town starts hovering a little too close to you at the market, laughing too hard at your jokes?

Ellie stands at your side in an instant, slipping a casual arm around your waist.

"Hey, babe," she says, loud enough for him to hear. "You ready to go?"

The guy blinks, then immediately looks away. "Oh—uh, yeah. Yeah, of course."

You arch an eyebrow. "Babe?"

Ellie shrugs, smirking. "What? It’s true."

You laugh, bumping her shoulder. "You’re ridiculous."

Ellie grins, kissing your temple. "Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous."

From a few feet away, Joel watches, shaking his head.

"Damn kid," he mutters. "Whipped beyond saving."

Bill grunts. "Good. Keeps her out of trouble."

Frank laughs.

8. Late-Night Confessions

The stars are bright above Jackson, the sky endless and quiet.

You and Ellie sit on the porch, a thick blanket draped over both of you. Your head rests against her shoulder, and for a long while, neither of you speak.

Then, Ellie clears her throat.

"You know I still—" she hesitates, then sighs. "I still think about that night."

You know exactly what she means. The Tipsy Bison. The words she said.

Your fingers trace patterns on the back of her hand. "I know."

Ellie tilts her head toward you. "I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it."

You shift, turning to face her. "I forgave you, Ellie."

She shakes her head, frustrated. "Yeah, but—"

You lift her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "No buts. You’re allowed to move forward."

Ellie’s eyes soften. She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. "I love you."

"I know." You smile. "Now stop sulking and come inside before Joel thinks you’re proposing out here."

From inside, Joel’s gruff voice calls out. "If you are, at least do it right!"

Ellie groans, burying her face in your neck. "I hate this town."

You laugh, tugging her inside.

9. A Morning with Family

The smell of coffee and bacon fills the house.

Joel is at the stove, grumbling as he flips pancakes.

You sit at the table, still groggy from sleep. Ellie, half-asleep, rests her head on your shoulder.

Joel glances over. "You two gonna eat, or you just sittin’ there like a pair of lovesick fools?"

Ellie grunts. "S’too early for this, old man."

Joel snorts. "Too early for breakfast? What the hell do you kids run on?"

You smile sleepily, nudging Ellie. "Pancakes sound good."

Ellie sighs, dramatic as ever, but sits up. "Fine. But only 'cause you said so."

Joel hides his smirk as he sets a plate in front of you.

Bill and Frank arrive soon after, bringing fresh bread and a bottle of honey.

"Figured you two should eat something real," Bill mutters, setting the loaf on the table.

Frank smiles. "Besides, I like seeing her happy."

Ellie glances at you, her heart twisting in her chest.

Because for the first time in a long while, you are.

10. “You’re Stuck With Me”

The sun is just starting to set, casting a warm glow over Jackson.

You and Ellie sit on the edge of the watchtower, legs dangling, watching the sky turn soft shades of pink and orange.

Ellie’s quiet tonight. Not in a bad way—just comfortable.

After a while, she speaks. "You ever think about leaving?"

You blink, turning to her. "Leaving Jackson?"

Ellie nods. "Not for good. Just… seeing what’s out there. Maybe taking a trip, just you and me."

You tilt your head, considering. The idea is tempting. "Where would we go?"

Ellie shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe Wyoming. Or back to Colorado. I heard there’s an old music store in Denver that’s still kinda intact."

You smile. "You just wanna see if they have any old guitars."

Ellie grins, bumping your shoulder. "Maybe. But I’d go anywhere, as long as it’s with you."

Your heart warms.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "You don’t have to take me anywhere, Ellie. I’m not going anywhere."

Ellie watches you for a long moment, then smirks.

"Damn. So I’m stuck with you, huh?"

You laugh, nudging her playfully. "Yeah, pretty much."

Ellie shakes her head, but her smile is full of something deep and unwavering.

"Good," she murmurs.

11. Bill and Frank’s (Unsolicited) Advice

It happens at their house.

Ellie’s sitting on their porch, sulking into a cup of coffee.

Bill sits beside her, arms crossed. Frank leans against the railing, watching with mild amusement.

"Alright," Bill grunts. "Out with it. What’s your problem?"

Ellie sighs. "Nothing, man. Just… thinking."

"Thinking’s dangerous for people like you," Bill mutters.

Frank snickers. "She’s brooding. It’s about her girl, isn’t it?"

Ellie glares. "I don’t brood."

Bill just stares.

Ellie groans, running a hand down her face. "Fine. Whatever. Yeah, it’s about her. It’s always about her."

Frank’s smile softens. "That’s a good thing, you know."

Bill grunts. "Not if she keeps sittin’ here mopin’ instead of just doin’ something about it."

Ellie blinks. "I—what? I have done something about it!"

"Yeah?" Bill raises an eyebrow. "Then why are you still sittin’ here like a kicked puppy?"

Ellie grumbles under her breath.

Frank laughs. "Look, kid. If she forgave you, then let yourself be happy. Don’t waste time waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just… be good to her."

Bill nods. "And don’t fuck it up again."

Ellie snorts. "Yeah. Got it."

But deep down, she knows—she won’t.

12. A Home, Not Just a House

It’s late. The house is quiet, save for the sound of rain tapping against the window.

Ellie lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Then, slowly, she turns—and there you are.

Asleep, peaceful, curled up under the blankets.

Ellie’s heart clenches.

She reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I love you," she whispers.

You stir slightly, eyes barely opening. "Mmm?"

Ellie freezes. "Go back to sleep."

You blink sleepily at her, then smile. Soft. Safe. Home.

"Love you too," you mumble, before nuzzling into her warmth.

Ellie lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

For the first time in a long while, everything feels exactly as it should be.

13. The First Argument (And How They Fix It)

It happens over something stupid.

Ellie forgets to tell you she’s going out on patrol. You wake up to an empty house, her side of the bed cold, and panic sets in.

By the time she gets back, soaked from the rain, tired, and completely unaware of your frustration, you’re pacing the kitchen, arms crossed tight.

"Where the hell were you?" Your voice is sharp, edged with worry.

Ellie blinks. "Uh… patrol?"

"You didn’t tell me."

Ellie furrows her brow, setting down her damp jacket. "Didn’t think I had to. I go all the time."

"Yeah, and usually you say something before you leave."

Ellie scoffs. "Jesus, I didn’t realize I had to check in like a fucking kid."

You flinch. It’s subtle, but Ellie sees it—and immediately regrets it.

You shake your head, stepping back. "That’s not what this is about."

Ellie sighs, rubbing a hand down her face. "Look, I was already late to meet Jesse, and I didn’t wanna wake you. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal."

"Ellie, I woke up and you were gone. No note, nothing. You know what my first thought was? That something happened. That maybe you—" You swallow hard. "That maybe I lost you."

Ellie’s stomach drops.

She’s so used to thinking about protecting you, keeping you safe, that it never really hit her how much you worry about her too.

She steps closer, hands hovering near your arms but not touching, not yet.

"Baby." Her voice is softer now. "I’m sorry."

You look away, jaw tight. "You scared me."

14. The Interventions Begin

Ellie hates herself for this.

The air is still tense when there’s a knock at the door. Before either of you can react, it swings open, and Jesse steps in, soaked from the same rain as Ellie.

"Oh, good. She’s alive. Thought I was gonna have to find her body on your floor." Jesse pauses, taking in the atmosphere. "Whoa. You two fighting? That’s rare."

"Not helping," Ellie mutters.

"You forgot to tell her, didn't you?" Jesse shakes his head, sighing. "Ellie, man, how are you still making rookie mistakes?"

Ellie glares. "Can you go?"

"Oh, hell no." Jesse grins. "I’m staying for this. Go on, continue. I love a good domestic dispute."

Ellie shoots him a look of pure exhaustion, and you cross your arms. "Jesse, get out."

"Fine, fine." He throws his hands up, backing toward the door. "But if you two break up, I got dibs on her."

Ellie nearly lunges at him.

"Kidding! Kidding!" Jesse laughs, shutting the door behind him.

Ellie turns back to you, guilt creeping up her spine all over again.

"I promise—I won’t do that again. I’ll always tell you."

You hesitate, but finally nod.

15. Bill and Frank Give Their (Unsolicited) Advice

Later that evening, you’re at Bill and Frank’s place. You’re still a little distant, curling into Frank’s side on the couch while he rubs your back. Bill is pacing in the kitchen, arms crossed.

"She didn't tell you where she was going?" Bill repeats, his voice sharp.

You shake your head. "Not a word."

Bill scowls. "Oh, she's an idiot."

"Bill," Frank warns gently.

"No, no, I'm serious." Bill gestures wildly. "That girl would riot if you left the house without telling her where you were going. She’d have the whole town on red alert looking for you."

"Yeah, well," you mumble, "she thinks I’m overreacting."

Frank sighs, squeezing your shoulder. "She’s just being dumb, sweetheart. She doesn’t like feeling like she messed up."

Bill scoffs. "Well, she did."

Frank shakes his head. "You love her, though, don’t you?"

Your lips press together. Then, finally: "Yeah. Of course I do."

Bill groans. "Then I guess you have to forgive her. Eventually."

Frank smirks, nudging you. "Make her suffer a little first, though. Just for fun."

That actually makes you laugh.

16. The (Proper) Apology

By the time you get home, Ellie is waiting on the porch, hands in her hoodie pockets, looking like a kicked puppy.

As soon as she sees you, she springs up.

"Baby," she blurts, talking too fast. "Listen, I was a dumbass. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t important enough to tell. You’re literally—fuck, you’re the most important thing in my life, okay? I hate that I made you feel otherwise."

Your arms stay crossed.

Ellie rubs the back of her neck, shifting nervously. "I went to talk to Joel, and he said if I ever do it again, he’s gonna ‘knock some goddamn sense into me.’"

You almost smile at that.

"And Bill and Frank?" Ellie grimaces. "Bill called me an idiot about ten times. Frank told me to grovel. So, here I am. Groveling."

She suddenly drops to her knees.

You stare. "Ellie—"

"I beg for your forgiveness, oh love of my life," Ellie declares dramatically. "Smite me not, for I am but a humble fool."

You try to stay mad. You really do. But she looks so ridiculous, soaking wet, on her knees in front of you, pleading like a medieval knight.

Your lips twitch.

Ellie sees it. "Ah-ha! You’re smiling!"

You roll your eyes, sighing. "You’re lucky I love you."

Ellie grins, springing up. "Yeah?"

You shake your head, pretending to be exasperated. "Yeah."

Ellie cups your face, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "I love you more."

You pretend to consider. "Mm. Debatable."

Ellie groans. "Oh, come on—"

You laugh, pulling her inside, shutting the door behind you.

(She never forgets to tell you again.)

17. When It’s Your Fault (And How You Fix It)

It’s bound to happen eventually.

You and Ellie don’t fight often, but when you do, it’s usually her messing up—her being thoughtless, her forgetting to tell you something, her running her mouth.

But this time?

It’s on you.

18. The Mistake

It’s late when Ellie comes home from patrol, soaked, exhausted, and clearly having had a rough day.

You’re supposed to be home, waiting for her. That’s the plan. That’s always the plan.

Instead?

You’re not there.

She checks everywhere. Your house. The stables. The Tipsy Bison. Nowhere.

And just as worry is sinking into her bones—

"Hey, have you seen—"

"Oh, your girl?" Jesse cuts in, amused. "She’s at Bill and Frank’s. Didn’t she tell you?"

Ellie stops cold. "What?"

"Yeah, I saw her heading over earlier. Thought you knew."

Ellie frowns.

You didn’t tell her.

After everything you just fought about a few weeks ago—**after she promised she’d always tell you where she was going—**you just… forgot?

And oh, does it piss her off.

19. The Fallout

You’re sitting at Bill and Frank’s when the door slams open.

Ellie steps inside, dripping wet, pissed off, eyes locked on you.

"Ellie—"

"Really?" Her voice is sharp. "Really, Bunny?"

You blink. "What?"

She laughs dryly. "Oh, don’t ‘what’ me. You know what."

Bill and Frank exchange looks.

"Do we need to leave?" Frank asks, already standing.

"No," Ellie snaps. "Actually, stay. Maybe you two would like to hear how my girlfriend completely ignored our last fight and pulled the same shit on me."

You stiffen. "Ellie, come on, it’s not the same—"

"Not the same?" She scoffs. "You lost your mind when I forgot to tell you I was leaving. You said you panicked. You said it scared you. But when it’s me worrying? Oh, that doesn’t matter, right?"

Your stomach twists.

You didn’t mean to do it. You just got caught up in talking to Frank and completely forgot. But the way Ellie is looking at you?

Like you let her down?

It hurts.

20. Bill and Frank Weigh In (Again)

"Okay, I’m stepping in," Bill interrupts. "Ellie, sit down before you pass out."

Ellie glares, but she does.

Frank leans forward. "Sweetheart," he says to you gently. "You really didn’t tell her?"

You shake your head, feeling small. "I forgot."

"You forgot?" Bill snorts. "You almost took her head off when she forgot."

You wince. "I know."

Frank rubs your shoulder. "You didn’t mean to, but Ellie’s allowed to be upset."

You nod, glancing at her. "I know."

Ellie exhales, scrubbing a hand over her face. Her anger is fading, but the hurt is still there.

Frank nudges Bill. "We should give them space."

"I was enjoying this," Bill grumbles, but he stands anyway.

Before they go, Bill leans toward you. "Apologize. Properly."

Then they’re gone, leaving just you and Ellie.

21. The (Proper) Apology

You sigh, looking at Ellie. "I really am sorry."

Ellie crosses her arms. "Then why’d you do it?"

"I wasn’t thinking. I was talking to Frank, and I just… forgot." You shake your head. "It’s not an excuse, but I swear, it wasn’t intentional."

Ellie exhales, her frustration starting to thaw. "I just—fuck, Bunny. The second I realized you weren’t home, my heart fucking dropped. I thought something happened. Thought I lost you."

You pause.

That’s exactly how you felt when she forgot to tell you.

Your chest tightens. You stand, moving toward her.

"I’m sorry," you say softly. "I hate that I made you feel like that."

Ellie finally uncrosses her arms. "Just—just don’t do it again, okay?"

You nod, stepping closer. "I won’t."

She sighs, pulling you in. "We good?"

You wrap your arms around her. "We’re good."

Ellie kisses your forehead, grumbling, "Next time, I’m putting a tracker on you."

You laugh, hugging her tighter.

(And you never forget to tell her again.)

22. Making It Up to Her (A.K.A. The Cutest Date Night Ever)

A simple apology isn't enough—not for you.

You want Ellie to know how sorry you are. You want to show her just how much she means to you.

So, you come up with a plan.

23. The Setup

It takes a full day of preparation.

You rope in Dina and Jesse first, mostly because Dina loves this kind of thing and Jesse is just along for the ride.

"A date night?" Dina smirks, arms crossed. "To make up for your screw-up?"

"She’s pulling a ‘grand romantic gesture,’" Jesse teases.

You huff. "I just want to do something nice for her."

Dina grins. "Then let’s do this."

Next, you visit Maria and Tommy—because you need a place to set it up.

Maria listens, nodding slowly. "So, let me get this straight—you want to set up some fancy-ass date for Ellie?"

You nod.

Maria exchanges a glance with Tommy, then shrugs. "Alright, let’s make it happen."

Finally, you head to Bill and Frank.

Frank is instantly on board. "Oh, this is adorable. Let’s plan a menu."

Bill, as expected, is grumpy about it. "Why the hell are we all getting involved in their date?"

"Because it’s cute," Frank insists.

"It’s dumb," Bill mutters, but you see the small smirk he’s trying to hide.

24. The Date Night

When Ellie arrives, she’s confused as hell.

"Bunny, what the—"

You grab her hand, grinning. "Just trust me, okay?"

She raises a brow but follows.

The setup is perfect.

Fairy lights drape the wooden beams of the barn. Candles flicker. The table is set with a full dinner—one that you helped Frank cook.

And watching from afar?

Dina, Jesse, Joel, Bill, Frank, Maria, and Tommy.

They’re all hiding behind barrels, fences, and window frames—watching like it’s a damn movie.

"Oh my god," Ellie breathes, looking around. "Babe, did you do all this?"

You nod. "Wanted to make it up to you."

Ellie stares at you—really looks at you.

Then, she smirks.

"You know," she teases, "this is kinda whipped behavior."

From their hiding spot, Jesse stifles a laugh. "She admits it!"

Bill groans. "Jesus Christ."

Joel snorts. "I coulda told you that years ago."

Ellie ignores them, cupping your face. "I love you."

You beam. "Love you more."

She kisses you, slow and sweet.

And from behind you, a chorus of voices yell—

"Finally!"

"Get a room!"

"We set all this up for one kiss?!"

You both laugh, and Ellie pulls you closer.

Tonight?

Yeah.

She’s never loved you more.

25. The Date – Ellie Sees How Sorry You Really Are

Ellie watches you all night.

Not in a casual, playful way. Not in the way she usually does, where she’s smirking like she just won the lottery because she gets to call you hers.

Tonight, she watches you like she’s seeing you for the first time.

And what she sees?

You’re nervous.

Your fingers fidget with the edge of the tablecloth, smoothing and re-smoothing a wrinkle that isn’t even there. You keep glancing at her, then away, like you’re scared of something.

Ellie’s heart tightens.

She realizes—this isn’t just a date to you.

It’s an apology. A real one.

Not because she demanded it. Not because you were afraid she’d leave.

But because you love her that much.

She sets down her fork.

"Babe."

You freeze mid-cut, staring at her.

"Come here."

You blink, confused. "What?"

She just holds out her arms. "Come here."

You hesitate, but eventually, you get up and sit on her lap, your arms around her neck.

Ellie breathes you in.

"You know I forgive you, right?" she murmurs.

You nod against her. "I just—I wanted to do something nice. To make it up to you."

Ellie chuckles softly, pulling back to look at you.

"You didn’t have to do all this, Bunny."

"I wanted to," you insist.

Ellie searches your face. "You always do that. Try to make everything better, even when I don’t ask you to."

Your voice is small. "Because I love you."

That does it.

Ellie tilts your chin up, kisses you slow and deep, and lets herself fall all over again.

Behind you, someone—probably **Jesse—**snickers, "Okay, yeah, this is cute, but is anyone actually gonna eat?"

Dina throws a roll at him.

Bill groans. "For the love of—just marry her already."

Frank grins. "Give them time."

Ellie just presses her forehead to yours.

"Let’s eat, yeah?"

And this time, you smile for real.

Ellie recovers quickly, a slow, cocky smirk pulling at her lips as she leans back in her chair, arms still wrapped around your waist.

She tilts her head at you, eyes soft but teasing.

"Oh, I’ve thought about it," she says smoothly, her voice low and certain. "And when I do it, it’s gonna be perfect. Just gotta make sure our favorite girl here is ready to be stuck with me forever."

You feel your face heat up instantly.

Dina lets out a dramatic gasp. Jesse fake wipes a tear.

Bill just grunts, unimpressed. "Took you long enough to say it."

Frank beams. "Oh, she’s a goner."

Ellie just grins against your cheek, whispering so only you can hear: "Whenever you want me, Bunny. You just say the word."

You grin, eyes locked onto Ellie’s as you lean in just a little, voice dropping into something sweet and dangerous all at once.

"Oh, baby… you really think I’m not already planning how I’m gonna say yes?"

Ellie’s smirk drops. Her breath catches.

Across the table, Joel chokes so hard on his drink that Tommy has to slap his back.

"Jesus Christ, kid!" Joel wheezes.

Tommy, still coughing, gapes at you. "The hell kinda smooth talkin’ was that?!"

Dina and Jesse erupt into laughter, absolutely losing their minds.

Frank? Frank just leans back with a satisfied smile. "Told you. Goner."

Bill shakes his head, grumbling as he takes a sip of his drink. "You two are gonna make me sick."

Ellie?

Ellie just stares at you, like she’s about two seconds away from dragging you out of there and proving just how much of a goner she really is.

Ellie finally blinks, her face so red it nearly matches the Tipsy Bison’s lantern lights. She leans in closer, voice low, teasing but just a little breathless.

"That right, Bunny?" she murmurs, thumb brushing your jaw. "You already got your answer, huh? Should I be worried, or should I be flattered?"

You pretend to think, tilting your head. "Mmm… depends. You planning on making it worth my while?"

Ellie groans, dropping her head against your shoulder, laughing through her flustered state. "You’re gonna kill me, I swear."

Joel, still recovering, wipes his mouth aggressively. "I’m gonna need a damn drink to deal with this."

Tommy nods. "Two."

Dina and Jesse are howling, Jesse literally clutching his stomach.

Frank just sips his drink, grinning. "Oh, she’s got you whipped, alright."

Ellie lifts her head, smirking now, because for the first time in her life—she doesn’t mind hearing it.

"Damn right, I am."

As a new writer on Tumblr, I really appreciate feedback! Please know I love receiving follows, comments, reblogs and likes! it makes me happy knowing my work is appreciated.

[kathleen-koi]

Kind a follow up to a previous post of mine about how I think if Darlin was too be turned it would be by Alexis or William

I think it would be so emotional if it was Alexis who turned Darlin especially if she did it for Sam. Like in Alexis’ head, turning Darlin so they would have to spend eternity with Sam, in her mind might seem like a kindness like she’s giving Sam something he loves and keeping it preserved forever.

And then all it does is make Sam kill Alexis because we haven’t really had a Maker Progeny fight/violence. The Summit kind of had that but ultimately not really and I guess it would be boarding into kind of what Vincent killing Adam was but even then not completely

And just think of the shit show that would follow because first of all Alexis drained/killed Darlin who we can assume Sam has a claim on but it’s not like 100% confirmed since it hasn’t been said he has which gives him a reason in the eyes of vampire society to kill her (side note this is just a personal opinion of mine that nothing is canon till said that’s why I say “we can assume”)

Secondly a progeny killing their maker we know it’s possible we know William killed his maker and I think Sam finding out what Alexis did to Darlin, was exactly what she did too him with not giving them a choice on being turned but depending how it would play out that being Alexis finding Darlin already almost dead and turn them or just waking up and deciding she was just going to do it herself for Sam, I think he’d have more then enough reason too kill her

It would be so traumatic and tragic it would be beautiful

And I personally just want more depth to Alexis I want her to be so fucked that she genuinely thinks she’s doing something nice when it’s such a horrible thing in reality like. She accepts she can’t have Sam and decides if she’s never gonna be able to be there for him she might as well might sure the person who can be there for him is there for him forever no matter their feelings on the matter

And I want to see Sam be violent I want him to be so angry and upset and let the 15+ years of hatred for this women too come out all for Darlin because I don’t think Sam would be violent or actually show his anger unless it was for Darlin’s sake.

[windybreeze12]

DBD Quotes that are my Roman Empire (and my reactions to them)

No version of this where I don't come get you - Charles S1 E7 (SIR???? IM SORRY??? If someone said that to me, i'd faint. Edwin is a strong one) .

Do you think it must be torture? Being the way we are? - Simon S1 E7 (I swear you could audibly hear my heart break when he said that) .

Teethface, what the fuck? - Esther S1 E6 (I love her. She's an awful person and is literally irredeemable but dammit she does her shit with style and sass and i love her) .

He did not feel the same way. But I think we are better friends because of it - Edwin S1 E8 (THEM. JUST THEM. I CANT WITH THEM.) .

You, Charles Rowland, are the best person I know - Edwin S1 E5 (It's like they want me to go throw myself off a cliff their friendship is everything to me) .

And we've got literally forever to figure out what the rest means - Charles S1 E7 (Charles is raising the bar too high i fear. the standards are through the roof) .

When you punish yourself, everywhere becomes hell - Edwin S1 E7 (*starts sobbing in the corner*) .

Imagine thinking there was only one way to do any one thing. How difficult would life be? - Kashi S1 E6 (I swear Kashi walked into this show to spit straight facts and then was never seen again. Icon.) .

We didn’t matter, he and I - Edwin S1 E1 (No because the way I swore to myself that I would protect these boys with my life the minute he said this) .

I will always hit a demon with a cricket bat for you - Charles S1 E6 (Fellas, never settle for anything less than Charles Rowland) .

I wasn't talking about you - Edwin S1 E5 (I'm not even kidding I paused the show, got up and had to take a minute because OOF Monty darling) .

As more than a friend, I’m afraid. Charles, I'm in love with you - Edwin S1 E7 (No joke this is one of the best scenes in a show I have ever watched. The acting, the dialogue, the pacing, the emotion??? UGH!!! Perfection) .

I certainly hope not, that story ends tragically - Edwin S1 E7 (There are already a million and one posts about the implications of Charles referencing Orpheus' story so go check those out but holy hell the way it made my heart twist) .

I could- we could lose Charles - Edwin S1 E3 (This was such a tiny detail but GOD I replayed it ten times before moving on) .

Honestly I just find her so charming - Edwin S1 E2 (I knew from this moment that Edwin and Niko were going to be a pair to watch. And boy was I right) .

That was my third life you bitch—i only get nine; would you fuck off - The Cat King S1 E8 (now THIS is how you creatively use a cat's nine lives in media I love it I freaking love it) .

You sacrificed me to a demon who traded me to another demon who traded me to a thing that is worse than a demon and this is your punishment! An eternity of papercuts! - Edwin S1 E7 (Honey I have an eternity of questions cause what the FUCK is this human trafficking system down in hell??? but also go off king??? 😭)

I'll update this whenever I remember anymore. Tell me more quotes in reblogs/replies i'll add them into this!

[heartmii]

TOA 01

✮⋆apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: angst, mentions of blood, anything else anyone sees and is uncomfortable with please let me know!

✮⋆˙ woo chapter two!! I'm excited to release this but also super nervous because I added a twist that I'm not sure everyone will love but I mean, it's a story about mythical beings so I decided to just have fun with it!

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“What did you do?” Anger seethed through the ex-god, his shaky breath competed with the rapid thump of his heart against his chest. Apollo’s eyes snapped to the now smug smiling emperor, the fury in his chest growing. 

“Oh? Are you not happy with what you see?” Caligula asked, voice laced with fake concern. He clicked his tongue, his eyes surveying his servants in dissatisfaction. “The gods,” he sighed, shaking his head. “So hard to please. You surprise them with the dead love of their life, and still, it’s not enough for them to say thank you. Such egos, it’s a shame, really.”

Apollo swallowed, an attempt at soothing the dryness that was now overtaking his throat. “That’s not possible. It’s an illusion. It has to be…” he faltered, his body deflating as he dropped onto the ground.

 Apollo was a god turned mortal. He was from the mythical world and saw many things, things that one alone could not comprehend, things that don’t make sense, that shouldn’t be able to happen because it went beyond the natural order of the mortal and mythical world. Yet, somehow, you being brought back from the dead was not an acceptance that came easily to him. 

It’d been years, years, since your death, but you lived. Alive in Apollo’s mind. There was not a day, not a century, not even a millennium, that Apollo did not think of you and the bittersweet memories you two shared. Your grace and your beauty, along with the essence of your soul, were immortalized for eternity in his heart, where he could forever nourish your memory and honor your legacy. 

Please… Who was he kidding? Honoring your legacy? Him? Apollo had done nothing but trash on everything you stood behind! If anything, he went against what you fought so desperately for. There was blood on his hands. The blood of many innocent lives he so easily discarded with no regard for their being. The option of others having a choice was previously nonexistent in the ex-god’s mind. He’d force many people to do his bidding and castigate them if they rejected. 

Including those he loved after your time. 

His heart clenched as Daphne’s horrified face filled his mind. Her expression contrasting his hopeful one as he chased her through the forest surrounding mount Olympus. It was Eros who, so full of spite, caused her to hate the mere thought of Apollo’s face. So much so that she begged her father, Peneus, desperate for help. He’d heard her prayers and granted her salvation.

 But even after the last branch formed from Daphne’s outstretched arm and she had fully become a prospering laurel tree, Apollo did not allow her to rest peacefully. He had plucked the leaves from her branches and formed what was now known to be one of his most notable symbols. The laurel reef.

 Daphne didn’t love Apollo. No, she despised him so much that she believed death was better than remaining on earth with him, but even that he had stolen from her. 

Just like you, Daphne was immortalized in the memories and stories of people but met the tragic fate of being forever tied to the very god that she had died escaping, tainting her name with his own and taking away her right to a peaceful death. Apollo may not have been the one that forced her to take her last breath, but it was he who pushed her to such a state of helplessness that she felt there was no other option. 

Perhaps that was why the thought of you being alive was so agonizing to him, because then you would learn about the monster he had become and how all of those promises he made to you under the moonlight had become nothing but empty words he spewed under the drunken spell of love.

 How could he look you in your eyes now? Eyes that always glimmered with determination as you spouted your ideals and all the great you planned to do in the world…how could he look at those same eyes and say that he failed to do what you had dreamed, what you both dreamed. Even if that dream died for Apollo a long time ago. 

Caligula considered Apollo for a moment before grabbing your arm and moving you back into his line of sight. He turned back to the ex god, his smile now wicked and sadistic, vastly enjoying the conflicting grief in his eyes.

“You haven’t taken a proper look at him. As he was once your lover, there’s no doubt in my mind you’ve memorized his body. You should have no trouble deducing if he’s a fake or not.” 

How odd was it that Apollo, who had been literally fighting for his life these past few months and wanted nothing more but to evade conflict, wished he was dodging swinging swords, and running from giant monsters that chased him and his friends instead of being here, simply standing and being forced to stare at the person most precious to him. 

Yet, he had succumbed to the small part of him that was a tad curious if it truly was you. 

His breath staggered, and he stood on wobbly legs, anxiously meeting your stare, only to regret it immediately. 

There they were, those eyes. Hypnotic as they had willed Apollo into your grasp, and enchanted him with an infatuation that ran deep in his blood. The same hunger swirled within them in a way that could only be described as honest passion. The intensity made Apollo’s heart skip a beat, and he trembled under your gaze. 

It was said that one’s eyes were the window into their soul, a quote which honestly was quite dated and overused, but as you searched deep within Apollo, he felt his own soul stir in response. His body had recognized its missing piece and, like a magnet, it fought to connect again.

Your souls were bound to each other. The fates decreed that the moment you two met. There was no way Apollo wouldn’t have known if you were a fake. 

In case he was completely wrong and in over his head, he took action to make sure he was absolute in his observation. It hurt to tear his sight away from your face, but he allowed himself to survey the rest of you, as Caligula suggested. 

His eyes roamed your body with a frown. 

 How strange. You appeared to be… out of this world. 

Your aura, although it had always been charming, was different in a way Apollo could not put his finger on. Something about you filled him with an irresistible sensation he had never felt with you before. 

Could it be Lester’s human hormones could not handle the gorgeous sight of his past lover and therefore appeared to be more appetizing than usual?

No, that couldn’t be it. Yes, mortals could definitely be extremely tempting creatures, but they didn’t hold the same weight and power as they did with gods. Many felt enchanted just by the mere sight of one. It was not a simple task to break away from their inviting aura and fight the urge to give in to their desires. 

Your aura was similar; An inviting force emitting from you. But how? You weren’t a god… were you? 

Apollo gagged internally at the thought, his insides twisting at the possibility of you being a deity. 

Being mortal was the very essence of your existence. It was nauseating how you nurtured the role like it was your life’s purpose, facing no fear towards things such as death or illness, claiming that these tragedies were simply just a part of being human and running from it would do nothing but force you to live in a world of clouds where you’d constantly be lost amongst the fog. 

Becoming a deity would’ve made your death a vain sacrifice for what you believed and enduring an eternity of grief would’ve been for nothing. Days of forcing the sun to shine upon the earth when Apollo himself was lost in the overwhelming darkness of his heart as his guiding light, his sun, was gone. Constantly, he searched for another you because the void left in him hurt too much, but of course, none had come as close to his heart as you did because in the end, all he wanted was you and he caged his heart behind iron bars out of fear of experiencing grief on that level ever again. 

There was only one who had been close to unlocking his heart again after you. His dear Hyacinthus. Oh, how the boy had reminded Apollo of you in so, so, many ways. The both of you were graceful, heads held high as you smiled at all that you loved. Adored by many as anyone who came to meet you was always enthralled by your allure and hearts of gold. But alas, love was never in Apollo’s favor, and his precious Hyacinthus met a tragic fate when he was murdered by the conniving and envious wind god, Zephyrus. 

It was almost comical how similar your deaths were. A sadistic joke played on Apollo. All hope he ever had for another love as great as you and Hyacinthus went out the window and following that was a now numb and manipulative god who allowed himself to know his lovers but never allowed them to know him. 

All of that guilt he felt for abusing his authority and refusing to see his lover’s as equals, all the shame for not living up to par with what you wanted, would’ve been for nothing. Along with the stab of knowing that you didn’t choose HIM over your ideals when he would’ve burned the world for you, was all too much. No, you couldn’t be a deity because then Apollo would never forgive you. 

He could not bear these thoughts and, for once, Apollo was glad when Caligula spoke to him as he had distracted him from the fogginess building up in his eyes.

Caligula waved his hand in the ex-god’s face, surveying him. “I’ll take the dumb look on your already idiotic face as confirmation that you’ve recognized that this is the real deal.” He turned to you, “I know how, uh… different…Apollo must look to you. Surely, it must be traumatic to come back from the dead and your once powerful and radiant lover is now pathetic, weak, and ugly. Do you believe this to be the god you once loved?”

Apollo huffed, once because he could not deny that Lester’s face was, in fact, idiotic and again because of Caligula’s question. Your eyes were good, but they weren’t that good. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been blessed with seeing beyond the mist, a trait that could’ve saved your life.                  

“You ask him a question he cannot answer. He would not recognize me in such a body—“ 

“Yes.” You cut him off and stepped closer. Apollo sucked in his bottom lip as your hands had come up to run your fingers through his hair. Oh, how he missed your touch. The way you handled him like he was a piece of glass. Then you spoke again, your voice being in that delicious and melodic tone that made heat travel up Apollo’s neck to the tips of his ears. Damn this body. 

“Although in a different body, your scent remains the same… how bizarre. Might it be your soul I smell?” You muttered, your fingers dragging down Apollo’s cheek. 

Apollo shuttered at your touch, the coolness of your finger soothing his warm face. But as much as he wanted to allow you to continue your exploration of his body, he could not shake off what you had said. “My scent—- What does that mean? — How is your nose even that good?—“

“Bravo! It appears love truly conquers all!” Caligula clapped, pulling you away from Apollo and making the ex-god frown. Something wasn’t right about you, besides being a walking corpse. Death was not his domain, but as far as Apollo was aware, coming back from the dead did not include the nose of a hellhound. 

“What did you do to him?” He asked Caligula, pinning his arms to his side as they had once again trembled. 

Caligula stared at Apollo questioningly. “What did I do?” He laughed. “You are funny, dear. This fiasco was not my idea. All I want from you is to squeeze out the final essence of godhood that’s left in that lanky vessel. If you were smart, you would’ve directed your attention to the only witch in the room.” 

Apollo’s eyes swiftly met Medea’s sadistic ones. She had silently been watching the previous conversation from the side. Gods, he was so caught up in the sight of you he had forgotten all about the Wicked Witch of the East.

“How rude of you to put me on the spot. I haven’t prepared my speech.” Medea purrs and approaches, circling around you before landing her hands on your shoulders. “On the contrary, love does not, in fact, conquer all.” She said, referring to Caligula’s earlier comment. 

“Instead, it leads people to their doom. It makes them think with their hearts and not their heads. The most powerful beings,” Apollo cursed himself for flinching after she had eyed him with a knowing look. “Have been brought down onto their knees in the name of love. As you all know, I, myself, have been a victim of this. After Jason betrayed me.” 

“I don’t understand.” Apollo interjected. “I had nothing to do with Jason’s betrayal against you.” 

“Oh, I am aware. But that is not why I brought him up.”

“You see, my heart had never bled as much as it did when I was in love. I yearned to serve Jason. To become half of his soul as his life, his goals, had become my own. I was high on that feeling. A feeling you must know well, yes?” The smile on her face was one Apollo did indeed recognize. 

A smile that did not reach one’s eyes, that was all for show to hide your true misery. He hated sympathizing with the witch, but he knew exactly what she meant. 

It seemed his face wasn’t so good at hiding his feelings either, as Madea had nodded to herself in what seemed to be satisfaction. “I needed something against you, Apollo. But what was something that would hold such great power over an ex-Olympian God? It couldn't be physical, no, that would be too merciful. I needed something, or someone, that could cause such turmoil within you that the thought of even fighting against it would cause you great sorrow.” 

“Well, isn’t that thoughtful? Putting in all that effort into destroying little ol’me.” 

She sneered, her eyes narrowing. “I studied you. Studied how I could control you, and imagine my surprise when I found out about an unclaimed lover of yours.” Her hands go to you, caressing your arms and making Apollo livid. “It seems not everything made it into the history books.”

Grime stained Apollo’s face, becoming one with the hot tears sliding down his cheeks. His hands ached as he pulled apart dirt from the ground with none other than his fingers. He could’ve called someone and ordered them to do the laboring task on their own. But he refused. He had to do this alone. He had to bury you himself. 

 No one should be able to see you, to touch you, to be around you. Not anymore. You were too sacred, too precious for this cursed world. But Apollo was selfish. He took you away from the earth, took you away from the rest of your family, just to have you rest under his domain. 

The god’s choked cries turned into loud sobs as his fingers dug deeper into the sacred dirt of Delos, shimmering gold tainting the soil. He welcomed the blood seeping from his hand; the pain was deserved. It was nothing compared to what you must’ve felt when his father had struck you down, but he needed to feel something. Anything that would compensate for the agony you went through before drawing your final breath. 

Delos, where he and Artemis were born. The land that had once been his aunt, Asteria, who had transformed herself into a floating island to get away from the advances of Zeus.  Where she provided sanctuary for his mother as she ran from the wrath of Hera on earth. This is where Apollo would bury you, a place that would now provide you sanctuary as it did for his family. A place where you could rest unbothered by the world. 

The hole was deep enough now, and Apollo had pulled himself out of it. A coffin waited for him and he involuntarily walked towards it, dragging his hand against it. The coffin had been turned from a simple block of stone to a grand piece of imagery. All along its sides had Apollo carved into it, creating depictions of milestones in your relationship. The first time you met, along with the time he revealed to you he was a god followed by the countless times he’d let you play on his lyre and of course, the first ‘I love you.’ Amongst many more. 

He was gentle with the coffin when he picked it up, moving slowly when he brought it over to the open ground. Apollo bit his lip, holding back his weeping so that he could focus on lowering you into the hole. 

It was done. You were really gone, and Apollo would never be yours again. 

“What are you doing here?” Apollo asked, his voice hoarse and his eyes bleak. He was sitting on the ground, painting a gravestone. 

Grass crunched behind him as someone approached. “You’re burying him here?” 

Apollo’s wrist kept moving, his brush creating faces on the gravestone. Still, he answered, “Cut the crap, Artemis.”

Artemis crossed her arms, frowning at her brother’s words. “I was born here too, Apollo. I have just as much right to be here as you do.” 

“You knew, didn’t you?” Apollo snapped, the brush falling from his fingers. 

“Knew what?” Artemis asked. 

“Don’t lie to me Artemis.” Apollo stood, finally facing his twin. “You knew father would kill him!” 

Artemis flinched as she caught wind of Apollo’s face, the puffiness under his eyes red and throbbing. Yet she recovered quickly, shaking Apollo’s arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

He placed his hands back onto her, gripping her in more of a desperate plea than before. “Please, sister, tell me the truth. Did you know that father would kill him?”

. “I…” she started, her chest growing heavy as she felt Apollo’s fingers shake against her. Swallowing carefully, she moved her eyes to your grave. “Yes, I knew… we all did.”

Apollo’s grip on her tightened, his eyes becoming glassy at the revelation. “Why didn’t you tell me? Were you sworn to secrecy? Is that why you didn’t tell me? Father is frightening. I understand if he forced you to swear on the River Styx—”

“He didn’t force me to do anything.” 

“What…?” 

“Oath did not bind me to not say anything to you. I simply chose not to.” Artemis stated, throwing Apollo off of her once again. Her head held high as she watched for his reaction. 

Apollo stared at her, his eyes widening in disbelief. He shook his head. “You knew how much I loved him, you knew father was going to kill him and you didn’t tell me! I don’t understand, Artemis. You are my sister, my twin, my blood. How… how could you?”

“That is exactly why! Apollo, you are my other half. We are two sides of the same coin. We might be related to the others, but their bond is not like ours. That boy was leading you to your demise. I have nothing against him, but you are who I care about most. I didn’t want to see him dead, but I didn’t want to see my brother subjected to an eternal punishment, either.” Artemis finished, her own resolve fading as she too shook at the thought of Apollo being hurt. 

Apollo’s jaw clenched. “Well, sister,” he started, malice seeping into his voice, “It seems you’ve failed anyway because a life without him is the worst punishment I could ever endure.” 

“Demigods!” Medea yelled out, bringing awareness to Meg and Jason’s presence in the room. They couldn’t speak anyway, not while they were stuck in the wind tornadoes Medea had stuck them in. “This is important. Pay attention.” 

“Delphi was a known city-state of ancient Greece. A city state where you, Apollo, were the patron god of. But the Delphi that lives in myths, the one that we know, is not the Delphi that has always been.” 

Through the corner of his eye, Apollo watched as both Meg and Jason’s expressions formed into one of confusion. 

“Once upon a time ago, Apollo betrayed Zeus. However, that’s not a surprise, that is a story that still lives. What didn’t make it, though, was the entire punishment your father had you experience. The gods said you were forced to build the gates of Troy alongside Poseidon. But what they failed to mention was the part where Zeus took everything from you. Your lover and your city. Isn’t that right?”

Apollo opened his mouth to speak, eager to defend his story. He knew where this was going and dread filled his stomach.  

Medea spoke before he could. “Oh, but that’s not even the best part! The original Delphi had its own royal family, a family that your boy-toy had been born to.” She comes to your side, raising your hand up. “Here stands the last prince of Delphi before its initial destruction. After a few years, Apollo rebuilt Delphi and got rid of all the evidence of its history. But thanks to my digging, I could uncover all of this.” 

Behind him, the Pandai were ready to lunge forward and capture Apollo as he had taken on a defensive stance against Medea. “Who told you this? The only person who knew about where I buried him was my sister.” 

Medea scoffed. “Oh, please, if you want to hide the body of your dead lover, do it somewhere that’s not your famous birthplace that everyone knows about. It was the first place I checked.” 

Apollo’s eyes ripped away from hers as blood rushed to his head. She was right, and he was an idiot to think that if someone wanted to find your body, they wouldn’t look on Delos. In his defense, it had been four thousand years since your death. 

Medea smirked at the red dusting Apollo’s cheeks. 

“Everything fell into place for me after that. You preserved his body well, I expected dust only to find that his body was enchanted to stay in good shape. It was perfect for my plan. I needed to bring him back from the dead without actually bringing him back, as I did not want to deal with Hades. He needed to be undead. I looked for spells beyond Ancient Greece and came upon the perfect solution within the dark arts—

“I’ve had enough of your talking,” Apollo sneered, glaring at the witch. “What have you turned him into?” 

“Patience.” She hissed, “I sacrificed my rarest properties along with human blood to create an elixir that would wake up this sleeping beauty. It took days to restore him to full health. But finally, when he did wake, he was radiant. No longer was he a meek mortal. His senses had heightened as he was now strong and blessed with speed, his ears picked up on sounds from miles away, and a nose made for hunting. There’s more, I'm sure of it, but he is still fresh and needs time to develop. So what did I turn him into, you ask?”

Medea sent Apollo one last wicked smile before dropping information that made the ex-god wish he was dead. 

“I have turned the long-lost Prince of Delphi into a vampire.”