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normansnt · 9 months ago

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The real him

(Alastor x male overlord!reader)

No warnings my loves

Perhaps some grammatical errors🥹

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Alastor was walking down the street to attend the overlords meeting that was taking place today. He has been absent for quite some time so he has not been to one in a while, and honestly he was kind of excited to go again. Not because he cared so much about what they had to say oh no, of course it was useful information for his plan but the one true reason he went was not something, it was someone.

You.

The overlord of music. Since he was the radio demon and you were the music demon you naturally had something to do with each other. Not to mention it just so happened that you both liked jazz that was a first bonding point.

The moment you became an overlord and turned up on one of the meetings Alastor was delighted by you. You were younger than most of them around the age of the Vees however you are very respectful towards the elder overlords. And even though you were one of the strongest ones you were not egoistic at all. If anything Alastor would call you quite humble. You had a happy air around you similar to Charlie, but he could see the smartness and cunningness underneath. For anyone else you just seemed like any happy go lucky idiot in hell but Alastor knew better. He knew that you could not have become an overlord without brains, all though the Vees achieved it. It only took him one conversation with you to know that sly brain of yours which was probably one of the smartest in the room, despite your young age.

Before he left hell it has become a habit that you two sat down for a coffee after meetings and you could talk for hours, one of your favorite activities was playing chess together.

To put it short. Alastor absolutely adored you, and loved spending time with you. The only thing that made him feel even a little bit sad when he left was the thought of not seeing you for a long time.

"Alastor, how fare thee, this way"

Alastor was too caught up in his daydreams about you to notice the tall figure appearing before him.

"Greetings, Zestial" he looked at the overlord while they made their way to the meeting.

"Ah, the weather, doth become this fine day."

"Indeed, looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon!"

"If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou?It has been an age since thou hath graced us thy presence. Some hath spun wild tales of you falling to...holy arms."

"Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical, nothing serious. Though it's fun to keep everyone on their toes!" Laughed Alastor

"Quite intriguing, Some of us did miss thee more than others" smiled Zestial mysteriously.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Asked back Alastor his smile never wavering.

"Thee knoweth what I mean a certain youngster did miss thy presence gravely"

"(Y/N)?"

"Indeed"

To this Alastor's smile lessened just the littlest bit, barely seeable to naked eye truly. He was not pleased that he caused you sadness. All though deep down in his cold dead heart a spark of warmth emerged to the thought that you missed him.

"Well than shall we proceed" said Zestial at last.

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When Alastor and Zestial arrived at the meeting he was disappointed to notice that you were no where to be seen. Nonetheless he took his seat, hoping that you will turn up since you do have a habit of losing track of time.

So the meeting began, Alastor sat next to Rosie a charming Women overlord of the cannibal town also a good friend of yours and Alastor.

"Ahhh Alastor such a pleasure to see you again, someone has become quite broody without you here." The powerful women finished her sentence with a cheeky grin.

"Yes it has been brought to my attention as well however I do not see the culprit here anywhere."

"Ohh you know the clumsy, he is always late."

About 10 minutes after the meeting began Velvette bursted through the door throwing the head of an exorcist of the table, and you walked in calmly behind her.

"Must you make such an entrance, and oh look at that now you got blood all over the table you could do it less flashy you know" you said looking at the media demon.

"I'm sorry for being late Velvette here was holding me up" you said rolling your eyes while she stuck her middle finger in your face.

"Anyways what are we-" you stopped talking when you saw Alastor. Your face broke out in a grin which you quickly tried to cover up with a cough and took your place besides Rosie.

"It's quite all right (Y/N) we know how...annoying the Vees can be" said Carmilla smiling at you slightly. You had a friendly relationship with most every overlord, even the Vees all though that was more professional.

After that you had trouble focusing, all you could think about was what you would say to Alastor after the meeting.

When Velvette jumped unto the table and started very disrespectfully yelling at Zestial and Carmilla you wanted to step in but Rosie put her hand on yours shaking her head slightly.

Alastor chuckled, a real hearty quet chuckle not a mocking one. He has always adored the way you like to stand up for people. He often wondered how you ended up in hell. Now he knows of course, your coffee 'dates' have turned quite deep sometimes, thus you are pretty much the only person who knows him. Not his grin he always wears, not his charmingly sick personality, him.

After the rather quick meeting you waited for Alastor outside of the meeting room. You were quite nervous you have not seen him in 7 years.

When Alastor saw you waiting outside he walked over. You waited till the other overlords have left the scene and the moment you could not see any of them anymore you jumped into Alastors arms.

Now, Alastor did not like physical touch. But this was already a routine for you too. Since you are a very touchy person and he does not like it at all you started off slow. Putting your hand on his shoulder as greeting and goodbye. Than patting his back and this way you guys slowly went up to a point where he was comfortable with hugging you. And now he loves it. But only if its you.

"(Y/N)...I've heard you missed me."he stated while smiling, not grinning, smiling at you.

"Weelll, I mean its no secret that you are my favorite there" you smiled shyly

"Only there?" He asked smiling egoistically exactly knowing your answer.

"All right, all right mr.bigshot however that doesn't explain why you were gone for 7 years without telling me where you were?"

You might be happy to see him now but that doesn't change the fact that he hurt you when he left without telling you.

His smile faltered a bit

He took your hand and next thing you know is you guys ended up in his room in the Hazbin Hotel.

Now he could let the smile go. All though a soft one remained on his lips.

"Everything in its time my dear"

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SALUTATIONS, GOOD TO BE BACK ON THE AIR

YES I KNOW ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE SOMEONE WITH STYLE-

Ok I'll stop

You see...I WATCHED HAZBIN HOTEL AND ITS AN OBSESSION THE SONGS, THE ART, THE CHARACTERS AAAAAHHHGSHHSGJSGS ITS SOOOOOOOOOO GOOOOOOOD

I already have at least 5 more fics in my notes just waiting to be published but I might wait with those cuz I really have to proof read them cuz when I type fast (like when I have too many ideas in my head cuz I have a new hyperfixation) I make the stupidest ass mistakes😭

SOOOO ANYWAAAHYYSSSS

Thank you so much for reading ladies, gentleman and other, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖

#hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #alastor x male reader #alastor x reader

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editorandchief · 7 months ago

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Hell Hath No Fury | Part III

Requested: Yes. SEND SOME REQUESTS!!

Warning: descriptions of violence, mentions of infertility

Summary: Chess not checkers. One | Two

You hear the shouts and gasps around you, as stumble backwards attempting to steady yourself as you carried your child in your arms. You feel your child being taken from your arms as you finally loos balance falling to the ground, you place your hand over your midsection. Pulling your hand away. you see the red dripping down your palm.

"Guards! Guards!" Someone called out, looking up to the person standing above you, you lock eyes with Alys Strong.

"How dare you?" Lucerys sneered at the older women as he pulled his sword, before it could touch her neck it was knocked away. pushing Alys behind him Aemond steps up to Luce.

"Someone call for the Maesters!" Rhaenerya called out. "And have this women taken to the dungeons." She said dropping down to attend to the princess bleeding on the ground before her eyes close.

***

You wince once as the needle once again while the maester closes your wound, your hisses of pain are the only thing filling the deafening silence that surrounds you, your husband and the maester.

"I will have milk of the poppy delivered for the pain princess." Mellos informed.

"Thank you maester." You replied with a strained smile.

Collecting his materials, he quietly exit the room leaving you and Aemond alone.

After a few moment of silence Aemond feeling your glare on the side of his face as he attempts to avoid your gaze.

"I couldn't-." Aemond started. "I couldn't imagine what you must be going through right now."

"Did you bring her here?" You asked narrowing you eyes for any sign dishonesty. "Did you bring that woman here, to court?"

"of course not."

"Of course not." You scoffed. "Because its not like you have a history with her, of putting her before your family, and now she has arrived at court to take the lives of me and my children and I'm to believe it's not under your influence."

"How could you ask thi-."

"How could you defend her!" You shouted. "Before you me, before your son! You defended that whore in front of the entire court, now the women who tried to take the lives of our children still lives because you care more to have a place to put your cock then your own sons." You screamed, looking towards the door you see Lucerys accompanied by his family.

"Luce." You whimpered out as he rushed to your side taking a seat on the bed he wraps his arms around your shaking figure. "I was so scared."

***

Aemond departed soon after the arrival of Luce and his family, most of whom also left at your please to make sure that your children were safe.

"What will happen when he takes her for a mistress? What if she tries to harm me? what if she tries to harm my children? I care not for my life, but please don't let anything happen to my children." You pleaded to him as you gripped his shirt.

"I care for you." Luce said firmly leaning closer to you. "And I care for the boys just as much and I won't let anything happen to any of you."

Staring into his eyes its silent between you both before you lean in and attach your lips to his. Reaching your hand out you push your fingers through his dark curls as you pull him closer, without thinking Lucerys runs his hand down your waist causing you to gasp in pain.

"I'm sorry," He says as he attempts to catch his breath. "I should not have."

"Please don't apologize...not for this." You plead bringing your hand down to rest on his cheek. "I often wonder what it would be to have married you, how happy we might be."

Leaning his head down to touch yours Luce closed his eyes and let put a breath. "As do I."

Pulling him closer to you, you press your forehead against him. "I must ask a favor from you." You sighed out. "I know that Alys is being held in the dungeons...and I wish to speak with her."

"I will call for the maesters."

"Luce-."

"No! Clearly you have gone mad." He rebuttals pulling away. "Why on earth would you wish you speak to that woman after all she has done to you?"

"Because I need answers, Luce." You replied. "I need to know why she- I don't know. Why she- and Aemond will not give me answers and I feel like if I don't know I will live in fear and confusion and I can-."

"okay okay okay." Luce relents pulling you into a his arms. "If this is what you need."

Wrapping your arms around him before resting your head on his shoulder. "Thank you Luce." a smile creeping onto your face.

***

Walking down to the dungeon on the late hours of the night you cling to Luce as you descend the stair. "Just down there." The guard instructed taking the bag of coins Lucerys offered for his discretion.

Walking along the hall of cells occupied by thieves and the like you come to the very last and see the woman in question sitting on the cold stone floor two cuffs adorned her hands attached to a long chain nailed to the wall.

"We've come to ask questions." Luce states stepping forward. "You will answer them if you know what's good for you."

Alys sat silent on the ground simply glaring at the two royals in front of her. "Why have you come?" You asked quietly clutching onto Luce's arm,. "Was I the only target of your rage? Do you plan to harm my children?" Still nothing was said before she scoffed and turned to face the puddle on the ground that was being fed by a steady drip of water from an unknown location.

Taking a deep breath you squeezed Luce's arm before speaking. "Perhaps, if you were to leave us alone for a few moments." You suggested. "Please Lucerys, it's not as if she could hurt me from in there, if this is the only way she will talk..." You say before he can protest.

"I won't be far." Lucerys said as not only an assurance to you, but as a warning to Alys before turning around and walking back down the hall.

Once Lucerys was far enough away Alys sat and waited for you to speak, she knew this would happen, that if she had failed in her attempt that you would come for her. She took shuddering breaths waiting for what torture you would see fit to subject her to this time, when something pulled her from her thoughts.

No....Nothing pulled her from her thoughts. the dungeon that was filled with the echos of groans, coughs, wails and whines of the captured criminals had all ceased. Glancing up Alys' breath hitched as she stared at the drop of water frozen in mid air.

"You know for all your faults." You spoke. "I thought you were smarter than this."

Snapping her head in your direction she sees that there is no longer a wall of metal bars between you, there is nothing stopping you from killing her.

"Don't worry Alys, I'm not here to hurt you." You assured.

"How can you be sure I won't hurt you?" Alys asked shuffling back, attempting to put on a brave face. lifting her chin and stoning her face. "Again."

"Do you really think if I didn't want you to stab me I would have let it happen?" You smirked at the women as she held a look of shock on her face. "Now your probably asking yourself, 'why would she do this?'," you mocked with a nasally voice.

"In truth I thought I could forgive Aemond for what he did but, the more I thought about it the more I found myself thinking of ways I could kill him without being caught, Training accident, poison, assassination, suffocating him in his sleep, hell most days I thought to just slit his throat and get it over with." You explained. "But then after three long months...you showed up and publicly attack me! and what does my 'loving' and 'loyal' husband do? he defends you." You let out a joyous laugh.

"After all Aemond is a not only a second son of a second wife but he's also what....three....four seventh in line for the throne and before Jacerys produces an heir, he stands to inherit nothing meaning and the only thing he could give my children is their titles and perhaps a bastard brother if that graveyard you call a womb ever proves fruitful, meanwhile the maesters fear I may never bare children again." You said letting a tear escape you eye before the smile returned. "But I will and that child will be Lucerys', it will be seen as a miracle and yet another strife I have overcome despite my unfaithful husband and his bastard witch mistress.

"Lucerys is heir to Driftmark and second in line for the throne, he could be King someday if Jacerys were to meet an unfortunate end, after I have my marriage to Aemond annulled Luce and I will request for the Queen to allow us to marry and he will take my children as his own, Armon could one day sit the throne as Aemon would on Driftmark."

"Why? Why go through all this trouble for a man you have no feelings for?" Alys asked.

"Oh I have a great many feelings for my dear husband." You sneered. "Disgust. Shame. Disappointment, but overall...Fury. How dare he humiliate me? Taking me for a fool? To push me aside for the like of the same blood her claimed to despise so much. A lesson needed to be taught, I made the mistake of excluding him from the first but this is one you two will learn together. You may stay in Kingslanding as is Aemond's right, but you will never know a moment of peace, you will always be looked at as the evil, vile, bastard, whore that attacked the princess with her child in her arms. You will be shunned, hated and looked down on as will any children you produce. Aemond has no claim to the throne in Kingslanding, Dragonstone is reserved for the heir and you no claim to Harrenheilm. No Lord or Lady would welcome you to their lands. You wanted Aemond more than anything as he wanted you and now you both will have nothing and no one besides each other." You explained as Alys stares blankly at a wall as your words pierce her mind with the new reality.

"Plus but just between us girls." You leaned in with a wide grin. "Luce is a far better kisser."

Alys lunged at you as your body glides through the bars, you back against the wall in an attempt to create distance between the two of you, Luce rushed towards to hearing the commotion only to find you cowering against the wall as Alys screamed curses at you.

Wrapping you in his arms Luce made sure to check that she had not harmed you as the guards finally arrived. "Its fine." Luce assured them before glaring at Alys. "Just an animal getting use to her chains." He spat before leading you away and out of the dungeons.

Taglist 🏷️: @watercolorsky @happinessinthebeing

@papichulo120627 @undercoversasa @zillahvathek

@alexa554 @snixx2088 @luv-mia

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #lucerys x reader #aemond x alys #aemond targaryen #hotd imagine #dark!reader #lucerys velaryon #aemond x reader #alys rivers

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icarryitin · 2 months ago

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Episode 12: Hell Hath No Fury

spencer reid/gn!reader

THE CANYOUNIVERSE RETURNS FROM WAR🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

series masterlist

word count: 1.5k // warnings: a couple of swears, ya boy gets anthraxed bc we’re getting into canon events now, Foreshadowing™️ (is it foreshadowing if i’ve already posted the part that’s foreshadowed??)

summary: Spencer forgets to use his brain (again), puts his life on the line (again), and it’s down to you to remind him (again).

“I’ve got Reid on the line for you.”

Something about the way Penelope’s voice trips over his name makes your blood run cold. It’s not unusual for her to pass someone over, but it’s different this time - you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Hey, you.”

Spencer barely manages to suppress a cough as he greets you over the line, and that’s how you know you’re right. God, you hate being right.

His exposure is minimal.

We can’t be sure it’s the new strain.

He dosed up with the rest of us.

You know why your team leader decided not to tell you just how bad it is but oh, Hotch is getting an earful when this is over - and he’s not the only one. Because while you’re quietly seething, while the remainder of your lunch is rolling around in your stomach, Spencer Reid is asking if you’ll check in on his mother for him. Just in case anything happens. Yeah, like you’d let it. The universe, God, whatever forces that be? They’ll have to go through you first if they want to get to him.

“I don’t think you get a dying wish if you’re not actively dying.” You sound braver than you feel, phone firmly held to your ear as you slide behind the wheel of your car. Nichol’s address isn’t far from here, Emily and Rossi can handle whatever lies within Chad Brown’s house by themselves. You have bigger fish to fry.

Fish that have a penchant for throwing themselves in front of bullets and unsubs and into anthrax riddled houses.

“But you’ll do it?” He asks, choking back yet another hacking cough that sets your teeth on edge. Of course you will, it’s a ridiculous question. You’ll call and you’ll visit and you’ll write, what’s another letter in the mail after every case anyway?

“Obviously I’ll do it,” Your eye roll is audible, you’re sure of it, “But you’re not dying, Spencer.”

You don’t say goodbye before hanging up, because you don’t need to. Because he’s going to be fine. Of course he is, frankly he’s got no choice in the matter. Even if the number of hazmat trucks at Nichols’ house sends your heart leaping into your throat.

“Respectfully, sir,” You call across the lawn the moment you’re out of the car, squinting in the sun, “You’re full of shit.”

Hotch’s face doesn’t move, but you’ve been at this long enough to register his tell. A split second twitch of his fingers grasped around his phone - he meant well, keeping the severity of the situation from you, most likely because he knew you’d drop everything. And here you are anyway, so much for his genius plan.

Speaking of genius…

You follow the trail of CDC officers, suited and booted from top to tail in PPE around you, through the maze of tents until you spot Derek - arms folded, signature eyebrows furrowed in frustration at whoever stands behind the flimsy plastic shield. As if you didn’t already know.

Spencer Reid looks reminiscent of a kicked puppy on a good day, and getting hosed down in a hazmat tent does him no favours in that department. Soaked to the bone and shivering, the state of him does nothing to quell your frustration at his actions. If anything, it starts to boil over because - well, doesn’t he know? That you’d only feel like half a person without him beside you at the round table or in the bullpen? That the early Sunday morning breakfasts keep you sane? That he’s your best friend in the world and if anything, anything, ever happened to him you wouldn’t know how to exist?

“You,” You’re breathless, suddenly, in the face of it all, “Are fucking in for it.”

He has the decency to shrink back a little from the heat of your anger and the accusatory finger you’re pointing at him, even though there’s a layer of protective plastic between you. Even Derek takes a step away from where you’ve sidled up beside him. And you let rip.

Because, for the smartest guy in every room, how could he be so stupid? Walking into a place that is almost definitely poisoned with no protective equipment is basically step one of the ‘How To Die Immediately, For Dummies’ handbook. Staying in that place is even more ridiculous.

Spencer’s relief in seeing you outweighs the anxiety tensing his muscles, even if you are bussing with the fury of a poked wasp’s nest, even if it is his fault. The very real possibility that he might have finally signed his own death warrant is softened by the sight of you, warped as it might be through the tent’s window. He finds the water warmer, the brushes softer, the incessant scrubbing gentler, just by watching you. Even your yelling is reassuring, because it means he’s not dead yet. He gets to watch you a little longer. He’s not so far gone that he misses the sunlight catching in your eyes as you rant and rave at him. It isn’t the first time you’ve struck him as beautiful, and it won’t be the last, but it doesn’t paralyse him anymore. He’s long since come to terms with that fact, Although, the thought might be a little misguided given your anger at his poor decision making.

But it’s not anger, it’s fear.

The same kind of fear that grips his heart in cold hands every time you end up on the wrong side of a gun, it’s not unfamiliar. Although Spencer’s never been on the receiving end of it from you. The fear of a loss that might be just too great to overcome, amongst all the others. You’ve mentioned, in passing, the friends that have moved on or married or simply faded away in the years you’ve been with the Bureau - it’s not uncommon, the job becomes a person’s whole life and anyone who claims otherwise is a liar. He knows it as well as anyone. You have each other, you have the team, they’re your family as much as they are his and - a nudge at his shoulder breaks his reverie.

“Can we talk about this later? I need, uh,” He struggles, there’s no way to put it delicately, “They need to scrub me down properly.”

“Well I’m not finished, so start stripping, Doctor.”

It’s his race against time versus your stone cold fury - unstoppable force, meet immovable object. Because you’re not budging, just standing there expectantly with your arms folded over your chest. Morgan breaks the stalemate after a long minute of eye contact, hands on your shoulders, steering you away with a meet you at the hospital thrown over his shoulder at Spencer. Ever the mediator.

“That was a bit dramatic, I know.”

“A bit?” Derek exclaims, and you spare yourself the embarrassment of looking him in the eye.

You’re not sure how you manage to blag your way out of the final takedown, but you do. An argument made for having a presence at the hospital, making sure the victims have received the suspected antidote, that it’s working; you decide to leave out the fact that the only thing your brain is capable of right now is wondering if Spencer is choking to death yet.

Hotch finds you after it all, sitting on a bench in the hall outside Spencer’s room. Feet tapping nervously on the floor, you’d slipped out as the doctor came in to check his numbers - you made it in the front door, you’re pretty sure you’ll be forgiven for missing out on all the needle sticking. You’re trying to collect your thoughts enough to articulate a sentence, something calm and composed instead of the anger that almost boiled over earlier. And he waits, because he knows. There’s a lot of people in this world who have a lot to say about Aaron Hotchner, but not a single one of them can claim he doesn’t know his team inside out.

“I know why you downplayed things, but this team is my family. I don’t have anybody else,” you look him dead in the eye, unwavering, even though your words tremble ever so slightly, “And I will not be lied to about it.”

There’s a beat of silence; long enough for both of you to acknowledge that he can’t promise you anything, and then he relents.

“Understood.”

You leave him sitting on the bench, digesting your words in the hustle of the hallway, in favour of the uncomfortable armchair at Spencer’s bedside. Derek joins you after a little while, and you greet him with a soft smile as he settles into the chair on Spencer’s other side. One he returns, as he always does, and you settle back into the silence. It’s a waiting game now.

“There’s an ass kicking coming your way, I hope you know that.”

Spencer has barely opened his eyes when he hears your voice, floating somewhere to his left, over the steady beeping of machines and muffled chatter. The hospital, he’s at the hospital. He’s at the hospital, and you’re here, and Morgan’s here, because //of course// you are. Where else would either of you be?

“Can it wait until I’m out of here?” His voice is hoarse at first, but it’s enough to get a giggle out of both his visitors.

“Well yeah,” You couldn’t keep the fond smile off of your face if you tried, relieved that his sense of humour has made it through intact, “I want a fair fight.

if you’ve stuck around for my 3 months of radio silence, i am kissing you on the mouth🧡🧡🧡

#the canyouniverse #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #lou is writing

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galedekarios · 10 months ago

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gale & withers: epilogue

i stumbled across this while taking another look at the epilogue files:

it's withers talking to an origin gale, who made the ultimate sacrifice in the final battle against the netherbrain to save not only faerun, but his friends:

Withers: Who flickers there 'twixt the shadows? Gale, who didst surrender his very self for the salvation of Faerûn. Withers: I feared I might not find thee here - that Mystra would have already plucked thy thread from the tapestry of fate. But she may wait a while yet. Withers: Tell me, Gale, how doth thee weigh thy sacrifice, now it hath been made?

origin gale can pick from a variety of responses:

option 1:

Gale: I've no regrets. I'd do it again if I had to. Withers: The Weave floweth not in this place of shadows, Gale of Waterdeep, but thine heart singeth in its place.

the weave floweth not in this place of shadows, gale of waterdeep, but thine heart singeth in its place.

gale has a genuinely good heart. it reminds me of this piece of lore again:

as well as tara saying this:

Tara the Tressym: If that's all, then what comes after is for you to decide, Mr Dekarios. Think well on all that's happened, and stay true to that heart of yours. It's a good one.

option 2:

Gale: I feel... unburdened. I've redeemed myself at last. Withers: Redemption need not require such sacrifice, but there can be no doubt thy penitence is complete. Thou art absolved at last.

'redemption need not require such sacrifice' is such a good quote here and i like it a lot. tragic that larian's own lead writers didn't get that memo.

option 3:

Gale: I didn't want to die, but I couldn't see any other way... Withers: Circumstance did not ordain thy fate, but thine own strength. Thou wert ready for such a sacrifice, and thou art ready still.

hm. not loving this one. i suppose it's the game reinforcing the player's choice.

option 4

Gale: One wizard for the whole of Faerûn seems like a fair trade to me. Withers: It is time thou learnest to value thyself truly. Thy sacrifice weighs greatly on those thou left behind, as it doth in this place.

IT IS TIME THOU LEARNEST TO VALUE THYSELF TRULY

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #withers #jergal #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #ch: gale dekarios #ch: jergal #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #cw sui mention #cw death

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padfootagain · 14 days ago

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Love in Verses (XXIII)

Chapter 23 : ‘Even the dearest that I loved the best are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! One of my favs, to be honest, it’s one of the first chapters I wrote for this fic, so it had a special place in my heart.

Also, Saoirse and Sean are back! I’m also making a reference to a documentary in this chapter, I was thinking about Brainwashed directed by Nina Menkes, you can check it out if you’d like!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3694

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

I am

I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that I loved the best Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

John Clare

Andrew was fucking panicking.

Bloody panicking.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and it had to be useful at one point to have an older brother… right?

Andrew would never admit that he needed reassurance, that he needed guidance, a protective figure to pat him on the back and tell him what to do next, and that it was the reason why he had driven to his brother’s on that Monday night. Of course not. Jon was his brother after all. Andrew would never admit any of that out loud, even if it were true.

The hike had happened the day before, that moment he had realised he was falling in love with you. That he was in love with you.

Bloody hell…

“So, let me get this clear…” Jon spoke with his elbows resting on his knees, bent over and leaning towards Andrew, struggling to gather his thoughts. “You thought you were still in love with Sam. Who left you for your colleague’s ex. And you thought ‘hey, what dumb idea could I bring to the table today’ and it led you to try to get back with the woman who cheated on you…”

“She didn’t cheat on me, she left me before she got with Frank.”

“How do you know that? Did you ask her?”

“Frank told Y/N he broke up with her before anything happened with Sam.”

“And she dumped you two weeks after he dumped her. You don’t know what happened.”

Andrew felt a lump creeping up his throat again, and he averted his gaze, rubbing roughly at his collarbone.

“Anyway, let’s move on…” Jon brushed the argument away with a quick gesture of the hand. “You tried to get back with Sam and to help Y/N get back with Frank… and then you fell in love with Y/N. Your colleague. Whom you share an office with.”

“I mean… yeah, kind of… I guess…”

Jon buried his face in his hands.

“I swear to God, Andy… it looks like you purposefully want to ruin your own life.”

“I can’t control the way I feel, Jon!”

“This is madness! She’s in love with her ex!”

“I know!”

Andrew’s voice was shaking more than he wanted it to. Jon looked up at him, reading him like an open book, and Andrew hated it.

“I know, okay?!” Andrew went on, voice still shaking while his throat tightened. “I know! I know I’ve fucked up everything with Sam! I know she got better than me! I know I’ve never stood a chance at getting her back! And I know Y/N is too good for me! I know we’re colleagues and that would complicate everything! And I know, I fuck… fucking know that she’s in love with someone else! I know! I know but I don’t know how to fix this! So can you, for once, be useful and tell me what to do now? Cause… I… I don’t know… Jon, I don’t know…”

God, Andrew hated himself for breaking in front of his brother, for letting the tears escape, but he couldn’t help it. This was too much. He simply couldn’t handle this…

Before he could add anything, Jon had stood up from his armchair and was sitting next to his brother on his couch. He didn’t say a word as he pulled him into a hug.

“Come on, Andy… it’s gonna be fine. You’ll be just fine.”

“Christ… I’m so fucking lost… I don’t know what to do Jon…”

“Do you truly love her? Y/N? Or is she just a rebound.”

“I don’t know…”

He was lying. Of course, Andrew was lying, because he couldn’t say it out loud, how could he? He couldn’t say it to himself… he couldn’t feel like that again…

“Say it. Say it out loud.”

Jon would get it out of him, and Andrew knew that he needed to let it out, to embrace the feeling, but it was so painful… pulling on a knife stuck in a bleeding wound…

“Andy… say it. Answer me.”

Andrew closed his eyes, resting his cheek on his brother’s shoulder, looking across the room. There were posters in black and white of old movies on each wall, and across from Andrew, James Dean was staring at him, a cigarette in his mouth. And Andrew stared at those eyes in black and white, and they stared back. Unwavering. Immortalised on paper and ink. Young, free, rebellious, without a cause…

“I love her,” Andrew whispered. “I love her, Jon. I’m falling more and more every time I see her.”

“Is it serious? Or just a crush?”

Andrew shrugged.

“I’m in love. I feel… like I could love her more than I’ve ever loved Sam… How can I feel like that? I thought Sam was the one! I thought we would stay together, I… I thought about marrying her at one point!”

“She wasn’t good for you, Andy.”

“You sound like mom. And dad.”

“When were they ever wrong? About anything?”

Andrew sniffed, knowing damn well the answer, refusing to admit it.

“She was nice enough,” Jon conceded. “She was smart, beautiful, successful… but she didn’t care enough, Andy. She didn’t care enough about you. She was selfish, in her way of loving you. You deserve better than that.”

Andrew pondered these words, wanted to believe them, couldn’t…

“What do I do now? It’s a mess…”

“Yeah, it’s messy… But you’ll be fine. You need to do whatever makes you happy.”

“What a shitty answer. Did you find it in a bloody fortune cookie or something?”

“Do you still want to be with Sam?”

Andrew took a moment to think.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so… I don’t know…”

“Do you want to be with Y/N?”

“She doesn’t want that…”

“That was not my question.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, but nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, I want her.”

“Then, love her. Maybe, with a bit of time, she’ll love you too.”

“What do I do to make her love me?”

But Jon chuckled.

“I’m single, remember? How am I supposed to know that?”

Valid point. But Andrew reckoned that he could at least try. He could find the things you didn’t like, he could change… maybe… be better for you…

There was silence for a moment, Andrew sniffed, looking at James Dean still. It was raining outside, as per usual. On the windowpane close to the poster, raindrops formed lines that turned the world into a blur. Dublin was but rough shapes and patches of brown, grey and white.

“How did you realise?”

“What?” Andrew croaked.

“That you love Y/N.”

“I won’t tell you. You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I won’t laugh. You’re crying.”

“Like that has ever stopped you before!”

“Come on, I know you’re truly upset, I won’t take the piss. Tell me.”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“We went hiking yesterday. And the day was so great, she was so funny… and then we took a break and she had brought snacks, and… she had all my favourites. Like… it was so fucking sweet…”

Jon started chuckling.

“She brought you snacks, and you fell for her?”

“You don’t understand.”

Andrew broke their hold, got up in a jolt. He was rubbing at his collarbone again.

“She… she did that for me. And she… she knows me… like… she knew what I liked. That’s… I don’t know how to explain it. I felt so… understood… like… Like I wasn’t on my own for a moment, you know? Like there was actually someone who cared enough about me to go through all the trouble of learning what I like and showing it… just to make me happy. Like…”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“Anyway… I knew you’d laugh at me.”

“If I give you a cracker, will you declare your undying love for me?”

“Fuck off!”

Before he could tell his brother another insult, Jon was throwing a cushion at his head, making Andrew huff as he lost his balance for a second.

He was laughing again as he picked up the cushion and threw it back.

But that didn’t answer his question.

What would Andrew do now?

When he eventually got home, he wasn’t sleepy at all. Instead of going to bed, he scrolled aimlessly on his phone, wasting his time on social media. Once he had enough of it, he decided to organise his photos on his phone. He put them into files, kept some messily saved without any home.

And then he reached the pictures he had taken the previous day, of your hike. Landscape, trees, clouds, and you… you standing on top of that hill, while the world laid at you feet. Your red scarf, Elwood sitting by your feet. Your beanie, your warm coat. You were a silhouette on this picture, and yet he loved it, loved that feeling that you were towering over the world. His world.

He pressed his thumb on his screen a few times, and then admired his work. When he unlocked his phone again, instead of seeing Sam’s smiling face, he was seeing your frame among the Wicklow Hills.

He heaved a sigh.

What would Andrew do now?

Saoirse was fucking panicking.

Bloody panicking.

Essays were piling up and it was a bloody nightmare. A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.

She was going to fail. She was going to fail all of her exams, and especially the one about 20th century literature, because… who the fuck was mad enough to make a class about the fucking modernist avant-garde, huh?

Professor Hozier-Byrne was, of course. Of bloody course. It had to be the nicest of them too, and the hottest, and the one who actually gave two fucks about his students… which meant that she couldn’t even be mad at him and curse at him for the suffering she was enduring as she struggled with this James Joyce novel… For Christ’s sake…

She heaved a painful sigh, hitting repeatedly her head against her table. Sean merely laughed at her.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad. It is worse. It is DEATH! I don’t understand a bloody thing about that fucking novel.”

“It could be worse, we could be studying Ulysses, it’s only The portrait.”

“Yes, and I could catch the plague and meet my certain death, but I can still die if I catch pneumonia.”

“You’re exaggerating. Wait until we switch to Beckett. And apparently we’re gonna study The Third Policeman as well…”

She let out a long moan, faking a sob, her forehead pressed to the table, where her notes and books were scattered. She looked up at her computer screen.

“As if Woolfe was not enough already… Please… kill me… death will be a sweeter fate than this torture…”

She didn’t notice the way Sean smiled, with something tender tugging at his lips. But he did. He did, because warmth was spreading across his chest at her antiques, and he thought about how adorable she looked like this, being silly while studying and being ten times smarter than him.

“I’ll help you with that essay if you give me a hand with Y/L/N’s… Oscar Wilde is kicking my arse.”

“Ha! That I understand!” she sat up, happy again, and speaking a little too loudly in the busy but quiet library.

She mouthed a silent sorry as a couple of students glared at her.

“Y/L/N’s class is so much easier to me,” she went on. “I can’t with this bloody… stream of consciousness and whatnot.”

Sean was about to answer when he noticed that Saoirse wasn’t listening anymore, looking over his shoulder.

“What…?” he made a movement to turn around, but the girl stopped him with a hiss, reaching across the table to grab his forearm, and the contact dazzled him too much to allow him to move again.

“H-B and Y/L/N are right behind you.”

“And?”

“And… I want to listen on their conversation, obviously. Don’t you want to know the tea?”

He rolled his eyes, but focused to catch their words too anyway.

“Mr. Darcy? The Jane Austen character? Really?” Andrew said in a whisper, clearly unimpressed. “You’re saying that the perfect man, the fictional character that sets unreachable standards… is a guy from the 19th century? That’s not very modern of you…”

You turned around, eyeing him up and down in a judgemental way.

He was following you across the library, the book he wanted to borrow tucked under his arm. He didn’t need to go through the 19th century section, he wasn’t working on that. But you did. So, Andrew followed you around, just to keep you close for a moment, just to keep talking to you for a little longer than your impromptu encounter in the hall of the library about fifteen minutes ago, when you entered and he was about to reach the counter to borrow his book. You didn’t know that though. He had pretended that he had another book to look for but had asked for help. You had believed him, of course, why wouldn’t you?

And now you were giving him a lecture on the female gaze in literature, apparently…

“Mr. Darcy is the perfect example of the use of the female gaze, as opposed to the male gaze.”

“I mean… he’s kind of a jerk at the beginning. He fixes his mistakes, but he started as a gobshite.”

But you shook your head, scanning the shelf while you kept on talking.

“But that’s the point. He fixes his mistakes thinking it will change nothing. He doesn’t improve and changes because he thinks it’s going to lead to Elizabeth loving him. He changes because she makes him see how much of a jerk he can be, how he acted from only his point of view, without taking her into account. And her rejection makes him reevaluate his decisions. He fixes things because he realises he hurt her and those she loved, but his intention is not bound to have what he wants, only to stop her suffering. Female gaze, versus male gaze. And that is, obviously, without mentioning the treatment of female characters in Austen’s novels. Characters with minds, and feelings, and wants, and wills… who make mistakes, and take decisions. Instead of a passive vessel under a male gaze, either to project a want, a longing, lust, love, fear, morals… ”

You were expecting Andrew to argue, because men always did. No matter your degree, and your expertise on the female gaze, on this very question, they always did.

Female gaze versus male gaze. Bloody misogyny…

But Andrew merely stared at you, and you could see in his slight frown that his brain was working at full speed. And when he spoke, it was to ask a new question, not contradict you.

“So… the fact that Darcy acts in a self-sacrificing way is what defines the female take on a character of his type?”

There was no judgement in his question, you were surprised by it.

“You can put it like that. It’s more… the fact that after being rejected for good, he steps back. Yes, you can see it as something like sacrifice, or genuine altruism or compassion. He still loves her, but he understands that she doesn’t, and instead of showing off and trying to make her change her mind, he steps back, accepts it, and reassesses his choices accordingly, without the occasion of winning her heart by doing so. He fixes his mistakes and keeps on protecting her because he loves her, not because he can get her back that way.”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“I think I get it. And that’s… unreachable for any real man for you?”

His tone was less serious again, drawing the conversation towards something less theoretical. You scoffed.

“Well, I haven’t found a counter-example yet.”

Andrew seemed to hesitate before speaking again, but he couldn’t hold back his question.

“Do you think Frank would have failed that test? That he would have disappointed you in that situation?”

You scoffed again.

“Like he hasn’t already disappointed me…”

You heaved a sigh, picking up a book and checking the summary on the back.

“Anyway, it’s alright. That’s why Mr. Darcy is fictional.”

Andrew gave you a smile, nodding and deciding to stir the conversation away from Frank again. It was making his heart ache a little too much…

“I saw yesterday that there is a documentary on TV on Sunday afternoon, about the male gaze in cinema. It seems very interesting. Would you like to watch it with me? I could cook us lunch too.”

You looked at him, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah, I… I saw that but… you want to watch that?”

He frowned a little, tilting his head, puzzled by your surprise.

“Yeah, totally. It seems to be very interesting. And… I mean… you’re literally an expert on the subject, even if you’re specialised in literature rather than cinema… So, it would be nice to have your input on that.”

You blinked, still surprised.

“I… yeah… yeah, that would be great.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Andrew chuckled to hide his burning cheeks. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No! That’s… surprising, that’s all.”

“How so?”

“You… never mind.”

“No, tell me. How is it surprising? I think your research is very interesting, and very much needed. I… I genuinely want to hear your take on this.”

“That’s…” you heaved a sigh, but gave him an earnest answer. “It’s just that… coming from a man, it’s pretty surprising.”

His face fell.

“Oh… I see.”

“Misogyny in the academic world is more common than feminism…”

“Yeah… yeah, I understand. I get it.”

“It’s just… usually men try to pretend that they are the expert on the subject I study for a living. So… that was impressive enough to hear you recognise that I’m the expert here. But then you’re even curious about women’s point of view… yeah, surprising, to say the least. I shouldn’t react like that though. I know you’re a feminist, I’m sorry. It’s just… a biased reflex.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through that. What a band of fucking pricks…”

You raised a surprised eyebrow again.

“Wow… he can curse like an actual sailor!”

Andrew rolled his eyes at your teasing, an amused smile on his lips still forming.

“Right… so, are you coming over on Sunday? Or am I making you work extra-hours and you’d rather just sleep and eat your weight in ice-cream?”

“I’ll come. And if you’re nice to me, I’ll even bring dessert.”

“Deal. Can’t wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak again, your eyes glimmering happily, but Andrew shut you down.

“No, you can’t buy a new toy for Elwood! My dog will end up loving you more than he loves me.”

“That has been my devilish plan from the beginning.”

You tucked the book you had been looking at under your arm.

“Okay, I’m all set.”

But Andrew had one more question, another one that he hesitated to ask, but he took the risk anyway, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck as he spoke again.

“Y/N?”

You turned to him again, silently inviting him to continue.

“If you were Elizabeth, and Frank was Mr. Darcy, what would you ask him to change for you?”

You blinked, surprised at his question, and you pondered on his words for a moment. But your answer was still earnest.

“Not breaking my heart.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled.

“And just… I don’t know… to…”

You hesitated, but answered anyway.

“To ask me about my day. I would have really liked it if he had asked about my days when we were together.”

You exchanged a sad smile. And Andrew spoke his next question the final one, the most important one too, the one that made him truly scared of your answer.

“And if you were Elizabeth, and I was Mr. Darcy… what would I need to change?”

You frowned at his question, and opened your mouth to answer, before closing it again.

“I… I don’t know. Honestly, I… I don’t know. I can’t really think about anything. I mean… you were never a jerk to begin with, so…” you added with a warm smile.

And at first, he smiled back, but then you turned around and he clenched his jaw. He tightened his hold on his book as you moved along the shelf. He couldn’t help the longing in his eyes.

Despite that answer, despite having nothing to change in him at first sight… you still wanted Frank, instead of him… God, he wished you could have told him what was wrong with him. What had made him unworthy of Samantha, but most importantly… what made him unworthy of you.

Andrew heaved a sigh, followed you with his head and shoulders bent, and he tried to hide his feelings when you turned around again, stirring up a new topic of conversation while you exited the room.

Meanwhile, Saoirse and Sean had listened to the conversation. When she focused on him again, Saoirse grabbed both of his arms and energetically shook him, shouting in a whisper.

“OH. MY. GOD!” she whispered, her voice made raspy by the cry she was refraining. “DID YOU HEAR THAT?! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

“Huh… yeah, they… were… talking…”

“Talking? TALKING?! Sean! THEY ARE IN FUCKING LOVE! H-B is at least. HEAD OVER HEELS! Did you not see that longing in his eyes when she answered? AND THAT FUCKING QUESTION?! WHO ASKS QUESTIONS LIKE THAT?! WHO IS READY TO CHANGE FOR THE WOMAN HE IS FUCKING PINNING OVER?!”

“God’s sake, stop shaking me!”

She let go of him, out of breath.

“Oh my God, they are so CUTE! Do you think they will end up together? I hope so, they seem so cute! They would be so cute! And they’re both so nice, they totally would make each other happy! I hope he’ll make her change her mind, cause the girl seems fucking oblivious…”

“Don’t you think that you’re… overreacting? Overreading into this?”

She rolled her eyes, slapping her palm against her forehead.

“Men are so fucking stupid,” she complained.

Truer words were rarely spoken…

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier au #hozier professor au #hozier series #professor au #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #series

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h50europe · 2 days ago

Text

BUCK / TOMMY - HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A FANDOM SCORNED!

I did some thinking. Never good, but my brain can't wrap around the breakup that came out of the left field.

Recently, it was announced that a spin-off of "9-1-1" is in the works. While no locations have been finalized, Hawaii and Las Vegas have been suggested as potential settings. The showrunner is already working on the project, with filming set to begin in March 2025.

However, one of my biggest fears has come true: the focus of the showrunners is being diverted from the current show to concentrate on this new spin-off. All the energy runs in the new project. Also, at this point, we don't know if the mothership will be renewed. Without an early renewal, we must wait until May for the announcement. That is another reason why they are focusing on the new show. I wonder if this is why the plots feel rushed and repetitive. It's nice to revisit the past, but not ad nauseam. 9-1-1 does it too often lately. What's the point in bringing back Gerard and turning him into the butt end of a joke? What's the point in digging out Abby's Tommy and hanging it around Tommy Kinard's neck when nothing was ever mentioned in the past. The focus is clearly not on the current show. It feels like Tim abandoned the ship to board a new one. It's fresh, it's crisp, it leaves room for a lot of things. Even if the breakup was meant as a shocker. If your focus is somewhere else, you don't see it. Right now, the mothership is leaking and starting to sink. If Tim keeps his focus on the new project and isn't invested in the current show, the lights will go out sooner rather than later.

Bringing in an established character was probably the biggest mistake Tim could have made if he wasn't meant to stick around. Bring in Mary Sue or Marty Stu to be a LI but not a character with a history that connects to so many people on the show. You can't sideline them forever. Especially as Buck's bi-arc was announced as something big. And it was big. A bit too big to be treated the way it was. The fanbase that had built around TEVAN, or BUCKTOMMY, within weeks, was massive. It drew so many members of the queer community into the show. Suddenly, many of them felt seen. Tommy and Buck were different from the other queer characters out there. Different from what was represented on any other show. People were willing to watch to get the slightest glimpse of them. Because they felt real. Their chemistry shot into the stratosphere.

And then you go and end it on such a horrible note? I don't care if the haters call Tommy a plot device. Everyone on the show is one at some point—even Christopher, Eddie, or anyone else from the main or recurrent cast, Karen, for instance, the Wilson kids. You name it. Tommy Kinard came, saw and conquered. So why not give him more room? They did it with Taylor (yes, I know JLH was pregnant then, but that's reason enough? I doubt it). As I said in my other long post, you could cut in a sequence of 5 minutes and show a summary of Tommy's and Buck's life.

Tim makes the same mistake as many showrunners do. Cramming a shitload of plots into 42 minutes of airtime. Is it really necessary to tell that many stories in such a short amount of time? That feels like speed dating. You blink, and you miss an important scene. Every episode, you jump from plot A to B to A to C to B. We didn't have this fast pacing in season 1 or 2. Stop it. Make Quality plots over quantity stuff.

In Tommy's voice: And for God's sake, clean up that mess you created with that shitty breakup, or the audience will wither away.

I'm sorry. I could write a book about what is happening in my head. You'd get Super Brownie points if you made it here.

#Bucktommy #tevan #911 on abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr #tim minear

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theminecraftbee · 9 months ago

Text

Joel sits awkwardly at a family dinner table that isn’t for him.

It’s nice and all, he reckons, for Impulse’s family to invite him over after he leaves the hospital. Even before—everything—Joel’s family hadn’t really been the “big meal around a big table” type, so he’s getting some new experiences here too. And it’s nice and all, that they want to thank him for his role in finding Skizz.

But like. It’s not like he or Impulse or Skizz could explain how it happened, when asked. “Magic brain ghosts” and “evil butterflies” and “Joel still isn’t certain all of that was real and is trying to pretend it wasn’t” puts a damper on that. Also, adults are kind of shit at talking around the fact Joel’s whole family is dead, so he gets the sense he’s sort of harshing the vibes, you know?

Still. It’s a nice gesture. He guesses. It’s free food at least, which is decent, and as close as Impulse and Skizz are, every time one of Impulse’s family says something stupid, Skizz taps Joel’s leg with his foot or steals a roll or something, and it makes Joel feel…

He’d have been sad if Skizz had died, probably. Like, he wouldn’t know. He didn’t come here to make friends, he came here to get a degree and get out. Also, that’s stupid, because it’s not like Joel would have known he was missing a really awkward congratulatory family dinner in which Skizz kept on trying to sneakily steal beans. Probably would have just moved right on. He’s not… friendly.

But.

They stand outside afterwards, waving by to Impulse, promising to walk together so that neither of them Vanish. They’re quiet.

“Thanks, man. That meant a lot to them,” Skizz says.

“Yeah, well, I can do stupid things for free food,” Joel says.

Skizz laughs. “It was nice having you there, too. Man, they’re even worse with you! It’s like not knowing you means they’re even more awkward about family tragedy.”

“Trust me, most adults are way worse. You should see my social worker,” Joel says.

“Didn’t he ditch you, dude?”

“Haha, yeah, he did,” Joel says.

They stare up at the streetlamps together.

“I was really ready to go for a bit there,” Skizz says. Joel’s hackles raise. Oh no. Emotions. Bad. Go away. “It was like—man, it felt like the whole world was empty. But when you showed up, it’s like I remembered… I’d miss dinners, dude.”

“I have no idea why, that kinda sucked,” Joel says, baffled and sarcastic, because he’s a moron who can’t handle emotional conversations, this is why everyone avoided him at the funeral, stupid.

Skizz breaks out laughing.

“You’re great, man! I’m glad we met. Uh, my place is only a block away, and I won’t go following any stupid butterflies. See you at school?”

“Yeah man. See you,” Joel says—

I am thou.

Thou art I.

Thou hath formed a new bond.

With the power of the Chariot Arcana, you shall build the chains with which to hold on to reality.

RANK 1!

“What the hell?” Joel says, tripping over his feet. “What? What? Where did—what the fuck that wasn’t Pygmalion oh god do I have more than one voice in my head—”

“Dude, are you okay?”

Skizz’s almost frustratingly strong and comforting arms grab Joel.

“Tell me you heard that,” Joel says desperately.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I could take you back to the hospital—no?”

“I am either crazy or am going to end up in a government lab?” Joel says, voice getting high and squeaky.

“We can ask Mr. Hills about it? He came to talk to me after I woke up in the hospital, apparently he like, knows stuff,” Skizz says.

“I don’t wanna,” Joel says.

“Tough luck, buddy, you just almost fell over and cracked your head open!”

Suddenly, Joel remembers a long-nosed man and a blonde in a very blue boat. He remembers a cryptic conversation about bonds and power and their importance. He takes a deep breath. “Can you cover your ears for a moment?” he says.

“Yeah, sure thing, why—”

Joel, as loudly as he can, screams. He hears several birds fly away. He pants.

“…Joel,” Skizz says.

“Yeah thanks man don’t worry about it let’s never speak of this again I’m sure it’s nothing. I definitely didn’t have a weird dream about this and should go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say,” Skizz says cheerfully before laughing, which Joel continues grumbling about all the way back to his apartment.

#smallishsona au #joel smallishbeans #skizzleman #a bee fic #WELCOME CHARIOT ARCANA #figured I’d come poke this some more. still getting through the ‘opening tutorial’ part of the game.#this is where you’re railroaded through your first social link so you can learn how that mechanic works lol #I AM bending the rules by having it be skizz instead of the fool thanks for asking #I just think he deserves it.#also skizz being the first male friend also breaks the magician rule #but like. HE DESERVES IT.#and scar isn’t far off I can do what I want.

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bigtreefest · 10 months ago

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Fic Rec Masterlist

*This list is constantly being edited as I read more that’s so good I feel the need to share

Fluff 💞| Smut 🔥| Angst 🧊 | ST’s Favorite 🌟

Bucky Barnes

Series

🌟An Offer by @wntrs0ldier

I Thought You’d Never Happen to Me by @nickfowlerrr

Van Helsing Retold 🧊by @gaysindistress

New Tricks by @sebstanwhore

The List by @srgntjamesbuckybarnes

Catch Me if You Can by @buckyalpine

Treat You Better by @notafunkiller

Wedded Bliss by @gutsby

I Think He Knows by @delicatebarness

One-Shots

Wrapped Around Him by @angrythingstarlight

Back Again by @delaber

Are You Bored Yet? By @pellucid-constellations

Curiosity Killed the Cat by @queers-gambit

My Everyday by @pellucid-constellations

Traitor (technically a 2-shot) 🧊🔥 by @insomniumstella

Details by @soulgazingwithbucky

When we are Older by @buckys-wintersoldier

Hell Hath no Fury Like a Farmer Scorned by @eat-limes-bitches

You Know Just What I Need by @sinner-as-saint

Right Here by @ellemj

I Hate You by @ellemj

My First and Only by @buckyalpine

Bake Nights by @jobean12-blog

Steve Rogers

Series

Reckless 💞🔥🧊 by @kinanabinks

The Gemini by @rogersideup

One-shots

With You by @buckets-and-trees

I’m So, So… Sorry by @ronearoundblindly

Stucky

Series

The Brooklyn Boys by @buckets-and-trees

Backstage Pass by @luxeavenger

Mafia!Stucky by @myfictionaldreams

The Fuckboy Committee by @kinanabinks

Ari Levinson

Series

Highways & Heatstrokes (trucker AU) 🔥 by @oh-my-damn

🌟Bedrock and Blueprints by @ronearoundblindly

Sweet Renegade by @cevansbrat0007

Being in Love (ex Bucky) by @imtryingbuck

Pearls & Sunflowers by @chase-your-dreams-away

Flamingo King by @onsunnyside

One-Shots

Stoner sex 🔥 by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

I’ll Wait, Angel by @buckyscombatboots

Jake Jensen

Series

One-Shots

A Helping Hand by @buckymorelikefuckme

Curtis Everett

Series

Live Is Short So Make It Sweet by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

I Know I Should Know Better by @krirebr

Dream Come True by @thezombieprostitute

One-Shots

Andy Barber

Series

Like I’m Gonna Lose You (with Ransom Drysdale) by @paperweight91

One-shots

Ransom Drysdale

Series

Precarious Agreements by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

The Root of All Ransom by @ronearoundblindly

More Than This by @krirebr

One-Shots

Afterglow by @stargazingfangirl18

Johnny Storm

Colin Shea

Sprawling Multi-character AUs

Lucky Charms by @yenzys-lucky-charm

We’re All Monsters by @krirebr @paperweight91

Come Hell or High Water by @imaginedreamwrite

#Bucky Barnes #Steve rogers #Ari Levinson #Jake Jensen #Curtis Everett #fic rec Masterlist #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Steve rogers fanfiction #Ari Levinson fanfiction #Jake Jensen fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #Curtis Everett fanfiction #stucky #stucky fanfiction #chris evans #sebastian stan

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ohmotherwhereartthou-if · 1 month ago

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What would be the ROs' reaction to suddenly being teleported into the past and finding MC as a child, alone, orphaned and mistreated? D":

Awww! Amazing ask!

Cassandra: She would be APPALLED. She honestly would 100% not recognize MC, all dirty and starved, but she would step in and spit holy hellfire, verbal abuse back at every single villager. She would put them down so harshly, violently condemning their actions. Would demand better treatment for MC and not fully recognize them until they are cleaned up and look into her eyes. And once she knows who this terribly mistreated and abused young child is... 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' is a fucking understatement.

Valeria: Would be heartbroken on the spot, standing in front of MC to shield them and yells at the villagers to find their humanity. She would challenge their faith and throw scripture in their faces to further condemn their actions, how anybody could ever be so cruel? To a child no less! Even more so when she can see they have a church/chapel in town, she believes this whole town's behavior is practically blasphemy. She would care for MC before even realizing who they are, once she does she is beyond consolable. Her heart would absolutely WEEP for MC and what they had to suffer through, nobody deserves to have to be treated this way as a kid. You should of been loved...

Tomás: He would be so confused why a little kid is being so mistreated? He wouldn't understand and approach them in private, he would feel a kindred to a fellow outcast. Him being a Castellion in what is obviously a Romandi descending town would put him instantly on everybody's shit list, which feels pretty much the same as it does back home honestly. But once he knows who you are? Oh, people are going to get HURT. But that will come after he sweeps the little MC into his arms and carries them far away from this terrible place. He will nurture MC to health first, destroy that village and cause real permanent pain to the ones who hurt you second.

Ludovica: I would like to think she would recognize MC almost instantly, and never, NEVER, had Ludovica wished such harm and pain upon others as much as she does right now. She has never hated her parents or even her late husband as much as she hates these people, she wishes she could channel all of the terrible effects she has on the lives of people around her and focus it on this blight of a village. She would pull MC in and hold them close, promising to never let anything else bad ever happen to them again, not while she is around. She would die for them, she would wipe this stain of a village off of the face of the earth forever if she could, in a fucking heartbeat. She would even pray for there to actually be a hell, just so she could live in comfort knowing that there will be a special place there, just for these people after death.

Aurelio: He would feel very indignified on the orphan's behalf, Aurelio is no stranger to seeing extreme poverty; as much as he loves his homeland and country, he knows Romandi has a rampant habit of leaving small hamlets like this one behind to suffer as a result of policy changes made politicly. However, that does not excuse such horrid treatment of a child in this manner. He would step in wordlessly and remove the orphan from where they lie and walk them over to a nearby stall and buy (practically the whole stall) whatever he feels the poor little kid needs, he he didn't have any actual money on him at the time he would trade whatever expensive jewelry he was wearing at the time without a second thought. The needs of a kid are obviously so much more of value than any stupid trinkets. And if he gets any objections from the townspeople and he starts threatening to buy out the whole town and turn it into storage space for whatever next business industry he goes into next. His brain would go into computer mode, trying to figure out how to drag this town out of poverty and establish some sort of supply line out here. His reach of influence stems heavily from being on actual Romandi soil, he can tell easily this is somewhere in Luogo where the lines of authority and power get blurry since it's practically a free territory. He would be so focused on logistics he wouldn't notice who exactly this little kid is until MC would try and talk to him, he would look into their face and squint a bit. He would kinda go, "Huh, you look a bit like someone I know... I think they mentioned once they were also from Luogo." and once MC keeps talking he would pick up on the familiar speech pattern and/or temperament. Because he is such a logical guy, he would think you two were just related somehow before he would ever conclude that this is in fact the past you. MC would have to basically tell him their name for everything to finally click. And once it does? Fuck this little town, let them waste away. They do not deserve his help. He would instead try to figure out a way back home with little MC in tow, he doesn't know how exactly he ended up in the past but what he does know, is that he needs to get MC as far away from this place as possible.

Elio: I love to shit on Elio as a personal pastime but I think this would be a very interesting encounter, especially if we go with the idea he and MC are already a couple and MC taught him to have better compassion and empathy. His first reaction would still be that of a little prissy bitch at how run down and dirty this town is lol, but once he sees MC getting mistreated he sort of gets some personal flashbacks of his own childhood. Feeling a kindred connection, he would intervene on MC's behalf. He would stand in front of them to protect them and even offer the villagers take out their frustrations on him instead, since they obviously are looking for an outlet and pathetically decided a defenceless little orphan was their best bet. He would talk so condescending to them all that they definitely would take him up on that offer, trying to beat him up, and trying is the key word here. Because I have said it somewhat recently somewhere that while Elio is a lazy bastard, he is surprisingly sturdy. He would not fight back, nor could he even if he wanted to, he never bother learning how to properly fight or physically defend himself, but stoically taking a beating without making any noise and hardly moving? He learned to master that sadly at a very young age. Once the villagers get tired or too frustrated to keep beating a punching bag that hurts to hit, they leave. With a few bruises he would just shake it off a bit, walking a bit funny but otherwise fine; he would then move to check on little MC. Him being the other one of the few RO's to instantly recognize them now that he is looking directly at their face. His eyes are wide but his face looks just as stoic as it usually is, only if little MC knew to read his microexpressions like their older self could. They would then know Elio is FURIOUS right now. He would pick up MC and walk them a good distance away from the village, make sure they are safe and comfortable before walking back to Lontapiso calmly to burn it to the ground.

#omwat #ask #ludovica #elio #tomas #aurelio #cassandra #valeria #interactive fiction #if #if wip #interact if #if game

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py-dreamer · 9 months ago

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So... I know I'm late...

But yea! I said I was coming back with some stickers and I kept my word! I would've hoped that I could've completed the sheet in like a day but as you can see...that didn't work out

I know I've been a bit MIA lately but burnout sucks. I do have a lot of WIPS I really want to work on but again, it seems that the ProcrastiNation hath struck my feeble mortal brain again.

But anyways:

I headcanon Aroace Mei, just a personal headcanon (disagree if you like) I also like lesbian Mei but thought I'd give some aroace appreciation

Silktea was only given 1 episode but OH BOY did it fuel our wild shipping habits. And I jumped on the bandwagon. It's a reference to that scene in She-Ra where Scorpia tells Catra she 'didn't want to do this' then wraps kitty up in the blankey and cradles her like a wee baby. And Sandy would do that for any friend, I will die on this hill

Saw a fanart where Mk had a pig nose themed pacifier and I just yoinked that idea. The pig hoodie and the pacifier seems like something Tang would do for Pigsy (also to get away with free noodles cause who can say no to that face?~)

Mac showing Wukong the lantern. What can I say, mans' fascinated by them pretty lights. Though our little performer's eyes seem to be straying from the show (^u ')

I know many people have issues with shipping with Nezha and such and I know the two had a rough history but y'know what fans do; they love to make the people who kill each other soulmates (platonic, romantic or otherwise) Even if it wasn't romantic, I still love the idea of them being buddies and just chilling, the danger noodle prince and the angy prince snuggle and watch a movie (mainly from Nezha 2019 but I also saw New Gods and can I just say, I want those two twinks to bicker then kiss awkwardly and I want Yun Xiang to BEAT. HIS. ASS) but in case anyone asks, I do perceive Nezha to be a consenting adult in general outside shipping drama and if the two are adults, it does make my heart squeal when I see these two hold hands and whatnot

HOW COULD I EVER FORGET MY SPICYBOIS, inspired by that one Ponyo kiss scene. I was actually gonna make a bigger piece but then I saw someone do it already in a much better fashion than I ever could and I just gave up on the idea but Ig here, its just like the two cakes mentality and I gave it a go. Hope I could do the concept justice

Have spider queen or scorpion queen ever interacted before? No. But they are both queens and I believe Spider Queen's confidence could rub off on Scorpion Queen and she'd appreciate the company of Spider Queen's children henchmen. Also she give yummy food so lesbian venomqueens for the win

Redraw of that moment with Peng and Azure. I normally detest that bird but these two do get some gears grinding and whatever anyone says. Neither of those two are straight. I'll tell ya that.

Toxicinsanity is another rarepair that had like 1 sec screen time. I don't think they'd ever work out in canon and had virtually no chemistry. I still love all the fluffy ship content I can find of them though and if it ever were to happen. I think the mayor would scare the sh!t out of Syntax

Let's get at least one hetero couple here, Chang'e and Hou'Yi are a couple of favorites ngl, I took most of their outfits from Over the moon cause both of them looked stunning, Chang'e especially. I've seen people ship mah girl with other people and while I do agree it's healthy to move on, in my heart she will always long for Hou'Yi

Also irl, on valentines, my mum took us out for lunch, she treated us to bubble tea and donuts. We walked home so I waited to drink mah drink in my room while I drew and I accidentally finished it all... I'm so sorry mum

f*ck I forgot ironbull. Uhh....I'll draw something later, rn I need to go to bed before I get yelled at...

click pic for less sh!ty quality!

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salternateunreality2 · 4 days ago

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The Boys with a Stomach Bug (AGSZC)

We saw them with their SO/roommate/friend, now we see how they would act if they were the sick ones!

Angeal:

Mournfully turns into a sad depression rock and hides. He would keep working, but he's responsible enough to know that he's contagious. He tries to take home a huge stack of work, but he can't finish it because he's too miserable.

Passively tries to hint that he wants someone to take care of him, but won't say it outright.

"No, no, it's alright, I wouldn't want you to get sick too..." *Sad cough, despite not being sick with a cough*

He will accept glasses of water delivered to his door, but only if you press him, and he will refuse to let you in.

He will struggle through alone with vaporub on his elbows, powdered Gatorade in a gallon-sized jug, a raw piece of ginger root on his nightstand, and potato peels in his socks.

Genesis:

Canonically, he will make it everyone else's problem too.

Hugging the toilet, asking the goddess why she hath forsaken him. Hugging a bucket, sitting on the SOLDIER common room sofa, asking why no one cares if he dies. Hugging a pillow, asking why Angeal is in the kitchen instead of here with him.

He will try to stay at work, only to dramatically run out of his office to the closest executive bathroom and loudly get sick every hour until he's forcibly sent home.

He will complain about every little annoyance and text regular updates and beg Momgeal to bring him something else.

He will get half the SOLDIERs sick and cause massive staffing shortages.

Sephiroth:

Never gets sick and everyone hates him for that.

HOWEVER, if he gets experimented on or recklessly eats gas station sushi, he turns into the saddest, loneliest, wettest kitten and quietly shuts himself away, wishing for his mother.

If he's expected at work, he attends and just looks miserable the whole time until Lazard sends him home.

He's quieter than Angeal, and doesn't solicit or refuse help, because he doesn't think he deserves it, and is too confused to refuse when it shows up.

He also doesn't help himself. He stays hydrated and minimizes mess, meaning he spends a lot of time lying on the bathroom floor and drinking from the tap until he's operational again.

Where is momther?

Zack:

Gets suddenly and violently ill in the middle of practice.

He doesn't ask for people to show up and take care of him, but they can't help themselves and show up anyway.

As soon as they're in his apartment, he's excited to have friends, but it's pathetic to see, because instead of squatting, he tries a wobbly, tearful grin.

He's not demanding, but he asks for a lot and prefers not to be alone. He likes to sit on the couch, and will ask for popsicles please and soup and water and juice if you don't mind, and then he'll throw up because he tried it too soon.

He recovers quickly and thoroughly, and is jokingly hated for it because what was a 24 hour bug for him has the rest of SOLDIER (who he infected) needing a week off at a time.

He's forgiven, because he's really sweet and helpful to everyone else.

Cloud:

Can't afford time off, so throws up into random bushes and keeps stumbling forward.

He's given 12 hours of leave after he passes out from dehydration and sickness mid-patrol, which means he returns still sick and passes out again.

This time they drop him off in the infirmary to suffer alone until he's cleared for duty.

He's miserable and just sleeps as much as he can and survives out of spite.

He mostly wants to be left alone to perish in peace and is agonizing over how this is going to disqualify him from SOLDIER somehow, until Zack calls.

He doesn't tell Zack what happened until Zack weasels it out of him. Then Zack shows up with Kunsel and a massive cauldron of Angeal's soup.

Cloud pretends to hate it, but secretly soaks up the attention like a sponge until he gets embarrassed and pretends to fall asleep while Zack sings to him.

#ff7 #sephiroth #cloud strife #zack fair #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #emetophobia #(light)

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chriscalledmesweetie · 3 months ago

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The Murder of Major Sayer Hath Updated

The Murder of Major Sayer by ChrisCalledMeSweetie

Do you want to know what really happened during the fateful week when John Watson first met Sherlock Holmes? John’s sister Harry is here to set the record straight—or not, as the case may be.

Chapter 7: The Missing Letter

The letter continued on the back, but none of my brother’s wheedling could convince Major Sayer to read any further in his presence. Mary Morstan had made it clear that the rest of her letter was for his eyes only, and he wouldn’t dream of denying her final request.

Many thanks to @bluebellofbakerstreet for the amazing cover art!

#sherlock #johnlock #case fic #agatha christie #thank you for reblogging #my fic

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her-satanic-wiles · 4 months ago

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Dawn Chorus - IV

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.1k.

Reading Time: 25min.

Warnings: blood extraction, body control, corruption kink,finger sucking, forced sexual activity,gaslighting,irrelevant character death,mentions of death by sun exposure, non-consensual sexual activity,objectification, religious disillusionment, religious trauma, sexual harassment, taking advantage of innocence, use of needles,use of the word “bitch” unkindly

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @whitepawfics @dolceterzo

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

“I feel as though thou hast drained all my blood and brought me to the brink of death.” You tried to stand but your body was too weak. “For how long hath I been in slumber?”

“Five days,” the Cardinal looked back to his book, “your recovery time is getting longer. We’re going to have to start rationing if this keeps up. Or get another angel. Say, do you think we could use you as bait?”

“I pray thee choke and perish upon my blood.”

The Cardinal laughed. “If that happens,” the door to his bedroom knocked, then opened, “you’ll be stuck in that cage forever - ah! Brother López. Come in, please!”

The Brother opened the door wider and stepped inside, looking polite as he watched the Cardinal stand to greet him.

“Angel,” the Cardinal addressed you, “this is my new cleaner, Brother Santiago López.”

You couldn’t help the wave of disappointment and fear take over you. But as you spoke, you tried to keep your voice level and nonchalant, “Oh. What befell thy previous caretaker?”

“I found out he was trying to help a certain prisoner escape, and so he needed to be punished.”

“If thou has slain him, I swear by the Almighty I shall smite thee!” Your anger bubbled up far too quickly for someone who was supposed to remain nonchalant.

“Oh relax, you crazy bitch. We sent him to an abbey in America to shovel pig shit.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief, feeling your muscles relax knowing that he was okay. “For what reason?”

The Cardinal tapped Brother López on the shoulder and gestured for him to leave, which he did promptly, fearing what he was going to see. “You know why.” The Cardinal said, simply. His voice quieter than usual.

Your voice was less sharp, but still loud. “I can assure thee, I do not.”

“You mean to tell me that you weren’t trying to escape? That you and Brother Hayward weren’t attempting to break you out of that little cage to get you to freedom, hm? Come on now, Angel. I’m more than happy for my pets to have pets, but when they start rebelling against me, lines must be drawn.”

“Thou wast aware he visited here?”

He took in a long breath through his nose, so sharp his nostrils retracted with the inhale. “Could smell him Every time I came home and his scent was stronger than usual - knew he was here a while. And then when he was under the bed, his heartbeat was so loud.” The Cardinal walked over to the cage and rested his hands on the bars, leaning his whole body on it. “His fear would have tasted so good.”

You spat in his face, hearing some of your spittle sizzle against the metal bars. The Cardinal sighed, and wiped it away before hitting the side of the cage.

“The next time you pull something like that, Angel,” he began, his voice loud and so enraged, “I will personally make sure your little pet dies in front of you, and I’ll make it slow and painful. Do you understand?”

When you didn’t answer, he hit the cage again. “Understand?”

“I understand.”

He stood up to his full height and straightened his hair, then began fiddling with his clothes. “I don’t like getting angry with you, Angel. But sometimes you leave me no choice.” He turned to walk away, but stopped at the door. “Oh, and angel?” He said, his voice soft and sweet like butter wouldn’t melt. He looked at you, mismatched eyes piercing into your soul. “Brother Hayward may be in a different country, but one word from me and all 6 litres of his blood gets delivered to my fridge, and his corpse will be buried beneath abbey soil. I’ll be back.”

The threat of his return felt even more sinister with the tone of voice he used, and for the first time since this whole ordeal started, you felt the sharp pang of fear that had the small amount of blood inside you run cold. Your safety didn’t matter. You were just you. But now Thomas’ life was in jeopardy and it was entirely your fault. Memories of Brother Thomas’ kind eyes and gentle words flooded your thoughts, each one a painful reminder of the danger he now faced because of you. Guilt gnawed at your insides like a ravenous beast, twisting and clawing at your conscience until it threatened to consume you whole. You had thought yourself strong, resilient in the face of the Cardinal’s torment. But now, faced with the consequences of your actions, you felt nothing but fear and despair creeping in, threatening to engulf you entirely.

As the Cardinal’s footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving behind an oppressive silence, you couldn’t shake the weight of his threats echoing in your mind. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in on you. For though you may be trapped in this gilded cage, your spirit remained unbroken. And as long as there was breath in your body, you would fight tooth and nail to protect those you held dear, no matter the cost.

Your own body continued to repair itself, slower than it usually would. The five days it took you to regain consciousness turned into twenty more of total healing time. The Cardinal kept a monitor of your levels based on how you smelled, which meant every day, his long, rodent nose would poke through the bars as he inhaled your scent, making sure his tavern was restocking perfectly well. He didn’t try and pry any information from you in that time, which you hated to admit that you were grateful for. But he had developed a habit of sitting and staring at you, taking joy in watching you squirm uncomfortably. He’d brought in a red, velvet armchair from the living space to do just that. Every evening, he’d waltz into his room with a glass of your blood, now tainted red from your essence, and sit and observe you, like an animal in a cage. You never said anything: always believing he wanted you to start a conversation, but you’d never let him win.

At first, the Cardinal’s constant scrutiny had been unbearable, like a stifling weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. His presence had been a constant reminder of your captivity, of just how at his mercy you truly were. But as the days stretched into weeks and the Cardinal’s routine became an unsettling rhythm in your life, something shifted within you. You found yourself growing accustomed to his gaze, almost welcoming it in a twisted sort of way. Not that you enjoyed it, by any means. Just that a routine was being established and the Cardinal became the only constant in your life. The only entertainment, too. And so, instead of shrinking away from his viewing, you began to meet his eyes head-on, a silent challenge in your gaze. You refused to cower under his oppressive stare, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. You found yourself seeing him in return, studying the lines of his face, the way his eyes glinted with a predatory gleam. There was a darkness lurking behind those mismatched orbs, a darkness that chilled you to the bone. But even as you studied him, a sense of defiance burned within you. You refused to let the Cardinal break you, refused to let him strip away your dignity and humanity. You were more than just a prisoner in a cage; you were a warrior, a survivor, and you would not be defeated so easily. Heaven couldn’t get you, neither could he.

So, you met the Cardinal’s gaze with steely determination, a silent reminder that despite his best efforts, you would not be broken. And as you stared back at him, you couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay hidden behind those calculating eyes, what darkness lurked within the depths of his soul.

The Cardinal’s entrance into the room that night was accompanied by an air of smugness so thick you could practically taste it. His smirk was evident as he sauntered in, a book tucked under one arm and a glass of your blood held casually in the other, a smile so wide, you could see his fangs underneath the skin. You watched him with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, wondering what had put that self-satisfied gleam in his eyes. It was rare to see him so openly pleased with himself, and it set your nerves on edge.

As he approached your cage, he made no attempt to hide his triumphant grin, relishing in the power he held over you. He settled into the red velvet armchair with an air of satisfaction, taking a leisurely sip from the glass of blood as if it were the finest vintage wine, because, to him, it was. His eyes flicked over to you, and you met his gaze with a steely resolve, refusing to let him see any hint of fear or weakness. “So, Angel,” he began, his voice dripping with arrogance, but his words slurred slightly from the drink, “I’ve been doing some reading lately. Did you know there’s a whole chapter in this book dedicated to angels like you?”

Your stomach twisted uneasily at the implications of his words, but you kept your expression carefully neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.

“It seems there’s quite a lot I didn’t know about your kind,” he continued, his tone laced with malice. “But don’t worry, Angel. I plan on remedying that very soon.” With a chilling smile, he opened the book in his hands, his eyes gleaming with a dark intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Do you know this book?”

You shook your head.

“It was written by Lorenzo Giovanni during the Renaissance, the last time an angel knowingly fell to Earth. A vampyre, like me. Spent most of his days studying the angel, finding out what makes you tick - turns out, he got pretty far. Unfortunately, his work was unfinished. A mob found out what he was and got to him in 1492, tied him up and let the Sun do all the work. But, do you know what he did find?” He didn’t wait for you to shake your head this time. He cleared his throat, and began to read aloud. As he began to read, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something far more sinister. “‘In celestial governance, once the manner is known, it is a simple matter. The heavenly messengers utilize the dread of the Almighty to manage their subordinates. However, those angels who have questioned the supremacy of the Lord are subject to the influences of their sacred radiance, the origin of which is their halo. Thus, one who attains an angel’s halo possesses the capability to command the entity, as well as the sacred radiance enveloping it.’ This we know, correct?”

You remained silent. So, the Cardinal continued, “‘This process assumes two guises: one to govern the physical form, the other to govern the intellect. To command the physical form, one must initially acquaint themselves with the name of the angel. As is observed with infernal entities, names possess a potency beyond human comprehension. Consequently, an angel bearing a name can readily relinquish control of their physical form merely by disclosing this fragment of information. Subduing the intellect, however, presents a greater challenge.’

“Basically,” he said, closing the book shut for dramatic affect, “I know your name, your body becomes mine.” He sighed, “Giovanni then goes onto say your mind is fully intact during this process, that you’ll feel your body moving but have no control over it.” He set his glass down on the dresser and walked towards your halo in its cage.

He grasped hold of it and you notice his hand was gloved, taking note of the care he was using to touch it. Your halo was just as dangerous to him as it was to you, but for different reasons. Without your halo, you were dead. Without your halo, you were controlled. For him, his skin would burn at the touch of it, like yours did with hellfire. For him, one wrong move and he would evaporate in the holy light. There was a part of you that wanted that to happen - wanted to see him perish in one of the most painful ways you had ever known. Yet there was an overpowering guilt that ate at you when you thought about it - knowing that the Almighty wanted you to love everyone, even at the detriment to yourself.

He took a step back and looked at you, smugness oozing from every pore. “I haven’t told Sister yet,” he mumbled, sitting back down on the chair. “I wanted to find out if it worked first. Tell me your name, Angel.”

“Thou must deem me a fool to willingly disclose such information.” You retorted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your mouth was dry.

He chuckled, a dark sound that shook you to your core. He nestled into the armchair, becoming comfortable in his throne of power. All of his movement was in his hips, lifting himself off the velvet to help him slide down it a little more, legs spread wide to exude his dominance. He was disgusting. “I thought you might say that,” he commented, his grin widening, “but you forget who I have.”

Thomas.

“You’ve experienced firsthand what I can do, Angel,” he continued, “except, I’ll make sure I’m much worse with him.”

“Thou would not.” You protested, trying to quell your panic. “The constabulary would be aware. Thou would be compelled to answer to the authorities.”

“I never said he’d survive.”

A chill ran down your spine. Your mind raced with fear and uncertainty as the Cardinal’s threat hung in the air like a dark cloud. Thomas was now in grave danger, and you were faced with an impossible choice. Would you sacrifice your own identity to save him, or would you stand firm and risk his life? You did know what the Cardinal could do - you’d been subjected to it since the moment you met him however long ago that was. You knew you could survive going through that again, especially if you had nothing to lose; but you couldn’t be sure about Thomas. He definitely didn’t deserve to feel the Cardinal’s wrath any more than he already may have. And could you live with yourself knowing you’d condemned a man to death just to save yourself, even if he did belong to the Satanic Church? By robbing him of his life, he’d never get the chance to return to God, to see the light and repent. You’d never get the chance to meet him again in Heaven. You’d rob him of his salvation, but you’d save yourself from the Cardinal’s damnation. Either way, you lost.

“If I divulge,” you began, puffing your chest to sound more confident and unafraid, “can thou ensure his well-being?”

The smugness faded from the Cardinal, if only for a moment. “Of course.” He responded, genuinely. “How else would I get you to do things I wanted?” He let the second sentence slip out, but paid it no mind once it had been released. He planned on using Thomas’ safety to continue to control you. You never should have let yourself get close to him - it allowed the Cardinal to win.

“And wilt thou demonstrate that he is unharmed? Wilt thou prove that thou speakest truthfully unto me?”

“I’ll get him to video chat you every week.”

You frowned, “I comprehend naught of thy words.”

“Video chat? FaceTime? Angels have no technology up there at all?” The Cardinal sighed at your blank expression and rummaged in his pocket to pull out the device you first saw him use. “This thing lets you have conversations with people that aren’t there with you. It shows you their face and hear their voice and, boom, conversation.”

“And thou wilt employ that contrivance to contact Tho- Brother Hayward?”

“Yes.”

You sighed. “___.”

“What?”

“My name. It is ___.”

“___.” The Cardinal nodded and set down the device next to his glass. He stood and unlocked your cage, before returning to his spot on the couch. He gently maneuvered your halo into the palm of his right hand, and brought it up to his mouth. “___, I command you to exit the cage.”

You laughed. You laughed at him. He lacked conviction which was why it failed, and it was so funny to watch him fumble. He cleared his throat, and now, with more confidence, repeated his order. Your body tingled in response, and despite you fighting it with great strength, your legs moved of their own accord. Your bare foot stepped out of the cage and onto the floor, barely feeling the textures beneath your feet. Your body ducked around the metal, wings tucked tightly to your body to stop any part of you from getting injured. Even under control, your body still did what it could to preserve itself. This was a new sensation to you, as you’d never been under someone else’s control before - you’d never needed to be because you were always a good soldier, even when you had your doubts. You’d never known anyone be subjected to this, either. Within seconds, you were out of the cage, standing in front of it with your wings outstretched. He hadn’t ordered you to stay still, to wait for the next instruction. But you did anyway, fearing that defiance would bring a painful end to Brother Thomas.

“___, I command you to spin on the spot.” The Cardinal ordered, a mischievous smile on his face and a glint in his eye.

When you did as he commanded, he laughed. It was a guttural laugh, hearty and jovial, clearly he was having fun with this. “Like a game of Capitan Giro. Capitan Giro dice stand on one leg.”

You did as commanded, and the Cardinal screamed in delight.

“Wait, I don’t need your name? I don’t need to be so formal? What if… put both feet to the floor.”

You did as commanded.

“Incredible. I wonder what else I could get you to do. How else I could humiliate you…” He stopped and thought for a moment, eyes darkening. “Come here.” This command was lower and deeper than the previous ones, quieter and somehow more intimate.

You fought against this command, but to no avail. Your feet, slowly, dragged you towards the Cardinal and only stopping when you were right in front of him, between his open legs. “On your knees.”

You obeyed. The whole time you made eye contact with him, staring daggers into his face and still hoping that the halo hurt him.

He held out his left hand, the one not holding the halo, and said, “Remove the glove.”

Your hands immediately sprung into action, grasping onto the hem of the leather and peeling it gently off of his hand, exposing the skin beneath.

“You know,” he grumbled as you pulled the final finger of his glove off him, “the Sister told me about you.”

He moved his hand to your face and tried to caress your cheek, but you moved away. “Come back, don’t fight me.” Slowly, you moved back to your original position, feeling your cheek meet his fingertips. His hand was large, taking up most of your face as he stroked it with such gentility, you weren’t entirely sure that this was the same man who had caused you great pain for so long. His thumb sat beside your nose, and gently stroked your skin.

“She told me about your purity,” he continued. “How you’re still the good angel Yhwh intended.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Open your mouth.”

You did. You opened it a small amount, but it was enough for him. He slotted his thumb inside and rubbed the pad over your tongue, as if he was studying your mouth. His knuckle, briefly, hit the tip of your small fangs - not enough to hurt him, but enough to have him fascinated by them.

“Suck on my finger.”

Your mouth closed around the digit in your mouth, lips stretching just a little over his skin, and you heard the Cardinal exhale a shaky breath. He watched the obscenity in front of him, how your cheeks hollowed around his thumb that he slowly began to move in and out of your mouth. His cheeks were flushed, partially because of your blood, but also because his own was rushing around his body, still pumping life into it despite his insides being almost dead. His pupils were blown, and his eyes were hooded, making him look a little crazy. His lips parted, and his breaths were laboured, chest rising and falling as though his lungs still worked - a force of habit, you thought.

You didn’t understand this - what he was doing. You’d never seen anyone do this before, but your mind was racing with possibilities. Perhaps he was testing your mouth, making sure your health was good. Or maybe it was some strange form of comfort for him, you pondered. Perhaps he found solace in this bizarre act, a fleeting moment of intimacy amidst the chaos of his life. As his thumb moved in and out of your mouth, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease mingled with curiosity.

You should bite down.

You couldn’t. Not that you weren’t trying, but you were under the influence of the halo. You just couldn’t get your teeth to clench around his thumb.

Despite your confusion, you continued to suck on his finger obediently, just as the Cardinal had ordered. You focused on the rhythm of his movements, trying to make sense of the strange sensation in your mouth.

“Cazzo.” He let out a whisper, barely audible but because of the quiet of the room, the humming of technology barely covered the sound.

As time passed, it couldn’t have been more than a minute, you couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort that gnawed at you. Yet, you dared not speak up, afraid to disrupt the fragile peace that enveloped the room. So you remained silent, your mind still racing with unanswered questions, as you obediently continued to suck on his finger.

Suddenly, the Cardinal’s eyes widened, a look of shock appearing on his face. He yanked his thumb from your mouth and physically pushed you away, grasping onto the halo a little tighter than he should have. “B-back in the cage.” He said quickly, standing up and walking over to your halo’s cage.

He didn’t need to use the halo to order you back behind bars, you were already scrambling to your feet and rushing to fit yourself in through the bars. He refused to make eye contact with you, noticing that he was feeling shame. Shame for what, you couldn’t say, but he spent most of the time staring at the floor as he locked you back inside. Your eyes wandered, too. From his face, over his body, until you saw the tent in his crotch every time he stood side-on. You weren’t completely foolish, you knew what that meant. You’d spent enough time with mortals, and saw a varying degree of sin that they would commit regularly. But you still couldn’t piece together the correlation between his finger in your mouth and the reason for his body’s reaction. He didn’t say a word, instead grabbing the glass and all but running out the door.

Perhaps you were feeling some of his shame now that you knew he’d used you to sin. He’d sinned with you before, every single time he caused you pain was sin enough, but this felt different somehow. Before, it was all the sins that were done to you; because of your implicitness due to the halo’s control, it felt like he was sinning with you. Shame, anger, and a deep sense of discomfort gnawed at your insides, making you feel vulnerable and exposed.

You had been subjected to a degrading and humiliating act, one that left you feeling powerless and violated. The Cardinal’s actions had stripped away your dignity and autonomy, reducing you to nothing more than a mere object for his pleasures.

Anger simmered within you, fueled by the injustice of being treated in such a deplorable manner. You resented the Cardinal for his blatant disregard for your dignity and for his abuse of power. How dare he manipulate and exploit you for his own perverse desires?

The deep sense of discomfort stemmed from the violation of your boundaries and the invasion of your personal space. His unwelcome advances had left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, as if your very essence had been laid bare for his scrutiny.

But then, the feeling dawned on you, was this not a similar way the Almighty had treated you? How He would get His subordinates to send you down to the mortal realm and commit atrocities on His behalf. In Egypt and Canaan, and even the shores of Italia, in His name you enacted awful things, bore witness to tragedies no person should ever see. While the Cardinal used you for some kind of sexual gratification, the Almighty used you for egotistical gratification, and either way, you were a pawn in someone else’s game, an object to be used at will regardless of your own opinions. You could never condone or justify the Cardinal’s behaviour towards you, but you’d also never had autonomy over your own person, so was it any different?

In some weird twist, you had come to realise that despite being trapped in a cage, your mind was freer than it ever had been in Heaven, your thoughts were your own, and your feelings went more-or-less unpunished. And in comparison, who was truly the Devil? Lucifer, or the Almighty?

The Cardinal didn’t come to visit you the next day, or the day after that, or the subsequent week that followed. He wouldn’t even come back to his chambers to rest, opting to spend his time elsewhere and avoiding you - an easy task, you were sure, given that he had kept you in the cage the whole time. You were unsure how to feel about this, whether this was something you should be grateful for, or if you should be afraid.

The longer you were around the vampyres, the more you’d begun to understand them and their ways; their thoughts and feelings, and what made them tick. Given that you’d not seen the Sister in so long, you could assume that the Cardinal hadn’t told her about his discovery. If he had, she’d have charged into his chambers, gripped hold of your halo, and practiced on you herself. Her insatiable thirst for power and control outweighed her thirst for your blood, and thus, if she knew your secret, you’d know too.

But then, why had the Cardinal kept that secret? Both he and the Sister wanted power, specifically power over you. They had been working together from the start to make sure they got what they wanted, your health and safety be damned. So why hadn’t the Cardinal told her everything? You pondered these questions in the silence of your cage, the only company being the dim glow of your halo, a sense of unease washing over you in more ways than one.

By the time you had healed completely, the Cardinal had returned with the empty bottles, but still found it difficult to look you in the eye. His gaze flickered with a mixture of guilt and apprehension, a silent acknowledgment of the unspeakable acts he had committed in his pursuit of power… or pleasure?

You watched him closely, noting the tension in his movements and the weariness etched into his features. Despite the disguise of indifference he attempted to show, you could sense the conflict raging within him, a storm of inconsistent emotions that threatened to consume him whole. He’d not rested well enough - you wondered if he’d even eaten properly. Then you wondered why you cared.

As he went about his task of arranging empty buckets around his bed, you remained silent, studying his every move with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Why buckets, this time? There was an obvious shift in the air, a tension that hung between you, heavily shrouding you both an an intense suffocation.

With each passing moment, the weight of his silence grew heavier, a burden that bore down upon you with unbearable force. You longed to break the oppressive stillness, to confront him with the questions that burned in the depths of your soul, but you held your tongue, wary of the consequences of speaking out.

In the end, it was the Cardinal who broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he addressed you. “I won’t bind you when I let you out… I’m trusting you to be on your best behaviour.”

You simply nodded in response.

“No funny business, no trying to escape… no attacking, got it?”

“I shall not undertake such actions today,” you told him, “yet I offer no assurances for the morrow.”

He laughed as though you were telling him a joke. His laughter echoed through the chamber, a hollow sound that reverberated off the walls. Despite the tension that lingered between you, there was a sense of relief in his amusement, a fleeting moment of levity amidst the heavy atmosphere that surrounded you. “Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing,” he replied, his tone lightening slightly. “Just remember, Angel, I’m not afraid to put you back in that cage if you step out of line.”

You met his gaze with a steady stare, your eyes alight with a quiet defiance. “I understand,” you said, your voice firm and unwavering. “But mark this, Cardinal - I shall not be imprisoned anew, not without resistance.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a spark of recognition that mirrored the fire that burned within your own soul. In that moment, you saw a glimmer of respect in his gaze, a grudging acknowledgment of your strength and determination.

“Very well,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

He moved towards your cage, unlocked and opened the door, and took a step back, still holding it as though he were a gentleman holding the door for his wife. With apprehension, you climbed out, wings cocooning your body again until you were completely free of the metal. You chanced a glance at your halo, which was still locked up tight in the cage, and somehow you felt relieved. You stretched your entire body out, wings included, grateful for the feeling. All the while, you still watched the Cardinal potter around the room until he invited you onto his bed again.

You hesitated until you saw the plea in his eyes. “What dost thou withhold from me, Cardinal?”

He shook his head, “If you don’t let me drain you now, things will end up worse for us both. Just do as I ask this one time, please.”

You regarded him with a mix of wariness and resignation, knowing that you had little choice but to comply with his request. With a heavy sigh, you moved towards the bed, your movements slow and deliberate as you approached him.

As you settled onto the plush mattress, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a heavy cloak. The Cardinal’s intentions were clear, his desire for your blood palpable in the air, and yet you found yourself unable to resist his command. You felt the first needle prick into the crook of your arm, and watched as your blood began to pour into the bucket. Then you saw him prick the second needle in, and the cycle repeat. Usually, the Cardinal would stand back and watch menacingly. But this time, he gently crawled onto the bed, lifted you up, and slotted you on top of him, so you were using his body as a pillow instead.

As the Cardinal cradled you in his arms, using his body as a makeshift pillow, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of discomfort wash over you. The intimacy of the gesture was unsettling, a stark contrast to the usual brutality of your interactions with him.

With each drop of blood that left your body, you felt a sense of vulnerability creep in, the realization dawning on you that you were completely at his mercy. Despite your instinctive urge to resist, you found yourself unable to muster the strength to pull away, trapped in a state of submission that left you feeling powerless and exposed.

You passed out, despite your body fighting it.

You were barely conscious when you woke, the needles still in your arms and the Cardinal still behind you. This time, you could feel his hands running up and down your biceps and stroking your hair, as if he was trying to comfort you. You wanted to recoil from his touch, to push him away and reclaim the boundaries he had violated so mercilessly more than once. And yet, a part of you couldn’t help but crave the warmth of his embrace, the fleeting sense of connection that offered a brief respite from the cold reality of your captivity.

Your body lost consciousness again, the last thing you felt were his fingertips tracing light patterns into your skin.

You roused from your uneasy slumber, disoriented and groggy, the memory of the Cardinal’s touch haunting your exposed flesh. As your senses slowly returned, you realized that the needles were no longer piercing your skin, their absence bringing a faint sense of relief amidst the lingering discomfort.

You looked around the room, heart heavy, seeking any sign of the Cardinal’s whereabouts, but all you saw was the empty space of his bed and the stifling silence that enveloped the room like a blanket. Feelings of fear and panic started to seethe at the borders of your mind as you struggled with the disconcerting realisation that you were alone in the room, and not trapped up in your cage where you’d normally be after such an extraction.

You strained to get yourself upright, your muscles protesting with each movement as you forced yourself to look around more closely. However, no matter how hard you looked, there was no sign of the Cardinal, no clue of where he had gone or what he was plotting next.

The sound of voices coming from the living room sent shivers down your spine, breaking the strange calm that had encased the Cardinal’s quarters. You strained your ears, nervously attempting to figure out who was talking and who was there.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened closely, the murmur of voices becoming louder and clearer with each passing instant. Their tones conveyed a sense of urgency, a palpable tension that appeared to linger in the air like a building storm.

For a tiny moment, you cherished the hope that Brother Thomas would return to liberate you from your captivity and deliver you from the Cardinal’s tyranny. But deep down, you understood that such dreams were nothing more than desperate illusions created out of your own sorrow.

One of the voices belonged to the Cardinal… the other… the Sister.

You strained to catch every word of the furious discussion between the Sister and the Cardinal, their voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony of wrath and frustration. From your position in the bedroom, you could feel the tension crackling in the air like electricity, heavy and stifling.

The words they exchanged formed a bleak picture, indicating a flaw in their carefully crafted relationship. It became clear that the Cardinal had acted with purposeful intent by draining you of your blood before the full moon night, undermining their plans to perform the second ritual.

Confusion blurred your mind as you tried to make sense of the Cardinal’s strange choice to sabotage the ceremony. It didn’t make sense; why would he go to such extent to foil plans that he had personally set up? You felt lost and confused, as if the puzzle pieces would not fit together in your brain.

You couldn’t shake the notion that the Cardinal’s acts were more than just what they appeared to be. His intentions remained a mystery, and you couldn’t help but wonder what underlying agenda drove his betrayal. Was he behaving in his own self-interest, or was he motivated by something else that you couldn’t figure out? Or was there a deeper, more nefarious motive at work?

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