ang3lofdivinity

[ang3lofdivinity]

. . Let Me Show You My Devotion

. . thinking about the alien stage cast with an immortal!reader..

Warnings :: SUGGESTIVE. VERY SUGGESTIVE. plays with NSFW content, no gendered anatomy described however, gn!reader, mention blood play, weapons/weapon play, reader gets (or is implied to be) naked in all of these (implied: sua, till), readers blood is gold, degrading, death, violence, not graphic but not entirely innocent, reader is FUCKING OLD (chronologically..), degrading, they literally kill you but you can’t die.. so they make it freaky? Is there a name for that? Ig slightly yandere coded? LITERALLY A SEX MENTION (“like you’re about to come”), dw nothing explicit gang… Listened to “Your Love” by She Wants Revenge while writing these.

“This jacket’s from 1643. I’d like to keep it intact.”

Basic Information:

Name: It’s your name, of course!!

Age: 20’s physically. Cannot age.

Story: Despite centuries of life, you’ve retained a fragile kind of hope. You're weary, yes, but still gentle, still kind. Because if you lose that… then what’s left?

Even if you stay in your 20’s for the rest of your life, unable to truly age, you must still move forward.

You’ve survived plagues, wars, collapses, Alien Invasions™ — but none of them truly stuck with you. Until music. Humanity’s desperation, their need to sing when all else fails? That’s what makes you stay. That’s what you love.

You’ve refused Alien Stage for as long as you can remember — you know how dangerous it is. If you entered, you could never leave. The aliens would never let a living myth walk away now, would they? Look at what they’ve done to Luka.

You can’t die, and henceforth would kill the other opponent. And they don’t deserve that. They do not deserve death.

So you hide away from peering eyes.

You don’t want to be worshipped.

You want to be remembered right. For your love of music. Your strange doodles. Your favorite fruit that went extinct.

You’ve remembered every name of those who have crossed your path, even writing them down so you wouldn’t forget them. Every name, every soul, has a story. You’ve long come to realize that from your many years of living, thinking you’d have no other reason other than that.

But, now? You’ve found them.



Sua makes you kneel on silk.

Originally, you’d just handed her a dagger as she stares at the thing within her pale hands.

“1431. A jealous queen’s last kill. She swore to the corpse she’d never touch another.” You mention, standing in front of the short woman.

“And you want me to be her?” Sua softly speaks, brows slightly furrowed as she looks up at you.

“I want you to understand that even if you destroy me, I’ll crawl back to you.”

You bare your chest to her. Kneel before her.

“Right here.”

Then—

She stabs you in one clean motion.

No hesitation.

You gasp. Golden sprays her wrist, her cheek.

And you grab her shirt and kiss her with everything left in you.

It’s hungry. Brutal, even. And you moan into it.

You die in her arms. Still kissing.

And when you return, gold leaking from the corner of your mouth, she doesn’t even speak.

She grabs your face gently and kisses you again.

Now? This time, as you kneel on the silk before her, the dagger now is polished to gleam. She kneels behind you, kisses your shoulder.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my death.”

She drives the blade into your spine.

You choke, lurching forward. Gold splashes all around you.

She wraps her arms around you as you go limp. They envelop you, keeping you pressed against her as she begins whispering into your ear:

“You’re beautiful like this. Still. Quiet. Mine.”

And then she tilts your head to the side over your shoulder, and kisses you. Tongue slick with your blood. Your head lolls back into her mouth.

When you awaken, she doesn’t stop.

She keeps kissing you.

Keeps cutting.

Keeps whispering,

“More.”

Mizi holds the gun more steady now

You give her the pistol like it’s just an ordinary flower. She holds it like a poisonous snake trying to bite her.

“1920s. A wedding, a gun, a suicide. I watched the whole thing happen.”

Her hands are shaking.

“Please—don’t make me do this.”

You tuck hair behind her ear. All while smiling softly at her.

“I’m not making you. I’m offering myself. Because I want you to see the worst of me, and still be able to love me.”

Your hand guides hers. Now pointing the barrel to your heart.

Then—you lean forward.

And kiss her. Slow. Full. Sticky with her tears.

She gasps into your mouth, tears still falling.

And—she pulls the trigger.

Your body jolts. You stagger.

And yet, you’re still kissing her when your lungs collapse.

You die slumped against her, mouth still open, gold dripping onto her collarbone and seeping through her shirt.

When you come back, she’s still holding you like she’s praying.

“You’re not real,” she whispers, tears filling her vision.

You kiss her again. Softer this time. With a smile.

“But I’m yours.”

But this time? She holds the pistol like a dance partner now.

“I still have nightmares about the first time.”

“I don’t.”

You kneel. Chest bared for her.

“Show me how far love can go.”

She cries. But her hands are steady.

She places the barrel against your sternum. Then kisses you first. Slowly. Desperately.

“I’m going to kill you like I mean it this time.”

You nod in response, wrapping your arms around her neck.

Then, she fires.

Gold splashes her. You gasp, coughing on your own blood before—

You die with her name still in your throat.

And she kisses your dead lips until you gasp awake again, blood drying on your chin.

“You’re mine,” she whispers.

“Even if I have to kill you every night to believe it.”

Hyuna doesn’t even use a weapon this time.

At first, when you first handed her the gun, she was confused. It was after a mission and the two of you were just lounging about.

“1871. A rebel missed. His lover forgave him anyway.”

You give it to her.

She’s shaking, staring in disbelief. You kneel in-between her legs, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“Kill me. If that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

She cries as she holds the gun.

“I’ve lost too many people. I can’t lose you too.”

You smile. You lean in.

And kiss her.

It’s a mess. Desperate. Loud, even.

And then, in the midst of it all, she fires.

You slump forward. Still kissing her.

And when you return to your consciousness—bleeding and smiling—you find her still frozen, just staring at you. Your head resting within her lap, the gun on your chest.

Your gold blood is still on her lips.

And you lean up and kiss her again.

Longer this time.

As if sealing a promise.

The second time? It’s not a gun.

It’s her teeth.

She pushes you down against a wall. Unbuttons your shirt. Hands sticky with wine after the long night.

“No weapon. No steel. I want to feel you break under me.”

She bites your throat. Hard. Blood spurts. You gasp.

Then she punches you in the gut—once, twice, until your organs rupture.

You’re slumping.

And she’s kissing your mouth between every blow.

“Come on,” she whispers.

“Die for me. Show me I still matter.”

You do.

And when you wake up against the couch with her hovering above you still, she then straddles you. Your blood in her mouth dripping out, but she doesn’t care, just caging your head with her arms.

“God, you’re disgusting. Let’s do it again.”

Ivan has become obsessed.

When you first spoke of it, you pressed the scalpel into his hands. Glinting under the sterile lights, you’d cleaned it before handing it to him.

“A hospital in 1952. The doctor fell in love with every patient. He called it healing.”

Ivan blinks slowly.

“You want me to operate on you, or murder you?”

“Both, if it means you’ll kiss me first.”

He doesn’t laugh. He studies you. Cold. Sharp. Unreadable.

You guide the blade to your wrist. Drag it down until gold pours free.

He doesn’t stop you. He watches. Face frozen.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers.

“Only if you leave.”

He kneels. Stares up at you. Then—so sudden you don’t flinch—he presses his mouth to yours.

It’s warm. Slow. Open. Sticky with blood.

You whisper against his mouth, “Slit my throat.”

And he does.

It’s clean. Precise. Quick.

Your body twitches as gold sprays from your throat. And yet—your lips never leave his.

You die with your tongue still inside his mouth.

And when you return, breathing shallow, you finish the kiss properly.

Ivan looks wrecked. His voice cracks.

“I thought I’d have to lose you to keep you.”

“You did. And you still kissed me.”

He has posed you like a study. You’re lying naked across a table, wrists open, ribs bare. And yet, you don’t mind it.

He’s already cut you tonight.

Just to see.

He kisses your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your thigh. All gold-stained, from your blood, from the amount of times he kissed you all over while cutting up your body.

“Every part of you grows back… Does that mean I can take everything?”

“Do you want to try?”

You offer him the scalpel again next to you which he’d placed down. And this time, he sinks it into your sternum slowly.

Your body arches under him.

You whimper. Bleeding for him.

And he kisses you during the entire process. Desperate. Deep. Hands on your broken ribcage as your chest collapses.

“You’re still warm. Even dying.”

And just before your heart gives out, you mutter to him :

“Make me feel yours again.”

And he kisses you one more time before you die under him.

When you return from unconsciousness, he’s still there.

Still kissing your lips.

Still trembling atop of you.

“You’re disgusting,” he whispers, his hand now gripping the scalpel so tightly his knuckles are white.

“And I’d still do it again.”

Till asks if he can while lying in your arms.

He sits with you in a greenhouse, one made by the aliens thinking “humans would thrive better in an environment more akin to that of their old home planet”. Midnight dew coating the petals around you. You press the obsidian blade into his hands like a sacrament.

“I watched this blade cut out a heart for a god. The crowd screamed.”

He gulps audibly. His voice breaks.

“Why would you let me use it on you?”

“Because even if you carved me open, I’d still reach for your hand.”

You kiss him first.

It’s hesitant. Tender. He gasps when your tongue brushes his—sweet and sticky with blood already leaking into your mouth.

You guide the blade to your abdomen. He trembles. He’s crying already, tears blurring his vision.

“Push. I’ll hold you through it.” You encourage in-between kisses

And so, he stabs.

You twitch, then moan. Not from pain—but from surrender. Your fingers stay tangled in his.

You slump against him, blood painting his lap gold.

“Even death can’t take me from you,” you whisper against his skin.

When your body stills, he kisses your lips again—still warm. Still slick with your blood.

You wake up in his arms, your mouth already finding his.

“I dream about killing you now. Is that okay?”

That’s what he asks the next time.

“Yes.”

You offer the obsidian blade like a gift again. He straddles your lap, trembling, tears already welling up in his eyes.

He kisses your jaw.

“Last time I cried. This time… I want to see what happens if I go deeper.”

You gasp, not dramatic — just.. a soft gasp, just from shock of being kissed.

“You can. I won’t stop you.”

He kisses you. Soft, fevered, blood-sweet. Then drives the blade between your ribs, down, twisting.

You cry out—more from the intimacy than the pain.

“You always make a sound right before your eyes roll back,” he breathes. His other hand rests on your hip, keeping you steady.

“Like… like you’re about to come.”

You smile at that.

And die in his arms again.

He kisses your dead mouth. Keeps kissing. Until you jolt back to life beneath him.

“Again,” you beg.

“Again,” he says.

Luka ends up cornering you this time.

It’s late. Quiet. The kind of quiet that only happens after someone’s screamed too much to go on.

You place the knife in his palm. Spanish steel, heavy with history.

“1844. A duel. One man died. The other never touched anyone again.”

He turns it in his hands, scoffing.

“And you think I care about some lovesick fool with a blade?”

“I think you already are one.”

You remove your shirt. Let your chest show, golden veins of blood beneath skin. Your voice is soft.

“Right here. Under the ribs. You’ll feel it hit the heart.”

He doesn’t move.

You walk to him. Guide his hand. Let him feel your steady heartbeat.

“This is yours. Even if you stop it.”

And that’s what breaks him.

He thrusts the blood in.

You jerk—but you smile. Gold pours from your lips.

And before the light leaves your eyes, you kiss him. Your blood smears his mouth, his chin, your joined lips.

You gasp his name into the kiss. And collapse.

He holds you.

You come back. Seconds later. Chest still glowing. Mouth still brushing his.

“Now you know I’m yours.”

He doesn’t speak.

He just grabs your face and kisses you again—this time not as your killer, but as your devotee.

It’s dark once again while doing so. The same Spanish dagger in hand. Still faintly stained with your blood from before.

He doesn’t ask this time.

“Take off your shirt.”

You do.

“Kneel.”

You do.

He presses the blade to your chest—not to kill you, not yet. Just to watch your body shiver beneath it.

And he leans in.

“Tell me who this blade really belonged to.” He demands, his voice still soft.

“A man who killed his lover. Then carved his name into his own throat.” You say, eyes drifting off elsewhere

His eyes gleam.

“That sounds familiar.”

Then, he stabs you mid-kiss. And this time, he doesn’t look away.

Your body lurches forward, gold spilling out, tongue still tangled with his.

You’re dying. Again.

And Luka moans into your mouth.

“You’re mine. You don’t get to die without kissing me first.”

When you come back, he doesn’t let you speak.

He just pulls you back down. Tongue, teeth, gold between your lips like honey. It’s all just heat between you.

A/N: I’m literally dying. Sos. Anyways, I love my husband Till. Please don’t mind how sloppily written this is..

[ang3lofdivinity]

FUCK YEAH. I NEED THESE YEHAJAHDHHSJDHFHRHHD

• gold frames

some dividers made from parts of antique golden frames

[ang3lofdivinity]

Oh yeah, we’re kissing tonight. I love you.

[ang3lofdivinity]

WHY ARE THESE SO PRETTY WHAT.

Do you have any astrology dividers? Hopefully with a teal and white theme?👀

ᡴꪫ ﹙ASTROLOGY DIVIDERS.﹚─── teal & white

🪷 𓂃 series : 01 . 02 . 03 . 04

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 )﹕i went a bit ballistic with this hehe guess that's the implications of this being my first request

please like, reblog + give credit if you use ♡

˖ ࣪❀˳ masterlist | support me on ko-fi <3

[ang3lofdivinity]

AAAAAAA

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[ang3lofdivinity]

Fuck certain ai’s…

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

IT MAY TAKE ME A MONTH TO PUT OUT A CHAPTER BUT AT LEAST IM NOT USING AI TO WRITE IT

[ang3lofdivinity]

ALLI I HOPE YOU KNOW I SCREAMED AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS IN STUDY HALL BECAUSE I SAW THIS.

And ykw?

FIRST JAM DRAWING PEEEEEKKKK

Heh.. I’m back again 😼

And I’m here to show my Crk oc before I go and draw interactions with her and First Jam Cookie (WHO I LOVE)!

(Astoria Fuchsia Cookie has a crown like this behind her ponytail a bit that holds her soul jam :DD)

And ONE LAST fact: both of her outfits are inspired off of Fuchsia Flowers!

Nevertheless..

IM LOOKING FORWARD TO DRAWING FIRST JAM COOKIE!!!

[ang3lofdivinity]

Hey 💌 I’m Saja — a mother trying to hold onto hope through days that feel impossibly heavy.

I know you probably see a lot online, but if you could take just a moment… I’d be so grateful.

💫 A reblog of my pinned post could help our story reach someone who cares.

🌿 And if you’re in a place to give, even a small donation could bring comfort to my daughter and help us feel safe again.

@sajagz, thank you for listening.

Even gentle support creates strength.

From one heart to another — thank you 🤍

Awareness pt. 3!!!

[ang3lofdivinity]

Hello, wonderful souls! 🤍🌍

I hope you're doing well. 🌿

Could you help me amplify my family's story and bring awareness to our struggle? 🙏🏻

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or consider donating just $5—your support could truly make a difference in saving lives amidst war and hardship.

Your kindness and voice matter more than you know. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍🌿

🕊️ @mosabsdr | Every share counts. 💫

AWARENESS PT. 2!!!

[ang3lofdivinity]

Hello,

I hope you’re all doing well. 🌿

I need your help to share my family's story and raise awareness about our struggle. Every voice counts, and your support means the world. 🙏

💬 Please reblog my pinned post or, if you're able, consider donating just $5—it could be life-changing for those facing unimaginable hardship.

Your kindness and solidarity make a real difference. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍✨

@aboodfmly

Awareness!!

[ang3lofdivinity]

Hiiii can you do anxiety makeout hcs please

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

“ Clandestine ”

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Relationship(s): Anxiety + GN!Emotion!Reader

Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive! Do proceed with caution for what you’re reading

Format: Headcanons + short writing bits

Warnings: Again- slightly suggestive content warning, Inside out 2 spoilers, possibly ooc?, me fangirling over my bbg because AHHHHHH

A/N: Guys, please hear me out. These are just requests for Inside out and i’m hyperfixating BAD on it and Hamilton, im forgetting so much, even basic tasks. (I’m autistic, please don’t throw around the term hyperfixation unless you’re neurodivergent. That’s rude and insensitive). ☹️☹️ AAAAA I LOVE THIS MOVIE. AND IM NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING REQUESTS RN. (Also, because of a request I got, I do have another account that I use that’s more nsfw because I hate getting that associated with this account because of my update in this post awhile ago so.. if you wanna check it out, here: @4ngelsstar :DD) guys, I can’t keep yapping.

Clandestine - kept secret or done secretively, especially because illicit

I’ve been waiting for a request for Anxiety. IM SO HAPPY RN, YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

I am writing this at 1:10 am at night and further more.

Now, I wanna set the scene:

You’re a new emotion, perhaps Shyness or Serenity, because the more I read this, I kinda had ideas like this in mind. (For those of you who don’t know what serenity means: the state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled).

If you’re serenity by chance: I think you’d have a really airy kind of outfit, maybe like this one but more animator friendly. If you’re shyness: I feel like this would work. (But then again, you decide what you want to be, and what your outfit is. Don’t let me dictate it unless you like it!)

Nevertheless, whatever emotion you are, you probably arrived a bit late in comparison to the other new emotions, but not so earlier that you didn’t get to meet the original emotions before they were locked away in the vault. You personally thought they were.. delightful! Though you kept to yourself mostly as Riley went to the lockerroom, awaiting for her friends- and after what happened next unfolded right before your very eyes? It’s safe to say you started to have a bit of a vitriol for them, especially Joy. During that very moment. Sure, Joy was supposed to keep Riley happy- but this? This was absolutely outrageous and chaotic in your opinion.

Though, what Anxiety had planned shortly after however…

“Riley’s life is more complex now, it requires more sophisticated emotions than all of you!” Anxiety nearly stuttered over her words, holding one of her sunshade colored memories in her hands while staring up at Embarrassment, holding all of the old emotions.

You stared, in sympathy and pity. You were frowning whereas Ennui’s eyes were focused on her phone to even notice, nor care of what was happening as she laid upon the couch. Envy stared only at Disgust in saddened way, due to the fact she wasn’t going to be able to find out how Disgust always had her hair looking perfect, and being so pretty.

“You just… aren’t what she needs anymore, Joy.” In response, Joy seemed taken aback at Anxiety’s words.

“How DARE you, madam!?” Fear yelped aloud angrily.

“You can’t just BOTTLE US UP!” Joy added on, furrowing her brows.

“Ooh! That’s a great idea!”

..You didn’t believe that they deserved all of that.

But, what can you do?? They’ve already been sent off to the vault where they were now officially: suppressed emotions.

You went to talk to Anxiety about the situation multiple times, but they were all given the same response: “This is what is best for Riley! You have to remember that, (___)! We’re doing this for her. So she won’t be alone, and she can be proud of herself!”

And so, you stopped speaking on anything about the situation, focusing on Riley. And only on Riley

Eventually you couldn’t keep yourself to be so blissfully ignorant of the situation at hand: Anxiety was working Riley overtime, keeping her up with all of the horrible things that could possibly go wrong during camp, all of the scenarios worse than the one before. She had Riley practice around 4 am until the rest of the team arrived to the rink, to the point that Riley was EXHAUSTED- yet, Anxiety ignored it, insisting that they had to make Riley work harder.

Yet you stayed silent (you shouldn’t have). Anxiety only has the best intentions, you shouldn’t have to worry this much. At this point, you should probably be the Fear or Worry emotion.

Everything’s gonna be alright. No worries.

Even when ignoring Grace and Bree, putting them down and being such a jerk, even while overworking Riley to the point she was barely able to get out of the bed in the morning- if she was even slept at all with Anxiety, even with—

.. reading Coachs journal was the last straw for you.

You lashed out- overreacted, you admit it. You cried, sobbed, begged them not to not go through with their plan.

“DO NONE OF YOU SERIOUSLY NOT UNDERSTAND THE CONSEQUENCES THIS MIGHT LEAD TO?!” You raised your voice, loud enough to be heard- but not loud enough to be screaming at the top of your lungs.

“(___)-” Anxiety started with the same saccharine tone she’d used before with you, hands on her hips.

You cut her off.

“No! NO! Don’t you dare tell me this is for the greater good. This could well be considered a CRIME for us!! Or at least an offense! This is a horrible idea, and I have no idea how none of you understand that.” You sniffled, tears brimming your eyes. It’s not rare for other emotions to feel others- but.. certainly not this strong, and especially this harsh.

Everyone was quiet, and that just made the realization of your actions sink in. But you stood firm, rubbing at your eyes to brush away the tears, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from hyperventilating.

Though it feels like you could possibly be wrong, you brush off the feeling and gather up the courage to rush over to the console, making sure to stop keep Riley from leaving her room while the console glows with your signature color, the color of you. Causing Riley to pause, and get back into bed, tucking herself in as she closed her eyes, her vision becoming black.

“We need.. we need to stay calm. If we’re too stressed—” You’re cut off with the feeling of arms, rather small, wrapping around your waist. You feel like you can’t breathe the moment the person drags you back, the breath taken from you in shock.

It feels like you can’t breathe.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. I’m so sososo sorry.” ..Anxiety rambles on, you can hear the trembling in her voice as even while you try to get away, squirm, just get out of her grasp- she’s far stronger than you anticipated her to be. She drags you away from the console and you try to fight back, quickly tying you up with some nearby rope- previously used for a.. bucket?? It’s weird how things can magically appear in headquarters. You slowly start to feel powerless as you stare at the other emotions reactions.

Embarrassment has hidden his face away in his hoodie.

Envy looks disappointed. Not in Anxiety, oh no, in you.

Ennui.. is disinterested. (As expected).

You start to try to implore with Anxiety to let you go- she simply stares at you with sadness in her eyes.

“..We have to do this for Riley, (___). I know it might seem wrong but please— believe me. It’ll be for the greater good this time, we need this to improve! Or else, how will we make it!?” Anxiety yelps, getting closer to your face before blushing and backing away. The only thing you can do in reply is cry, tears streaming down your cheeks as you avert your gaze downwards to your lap.

You really are helpless in this situation. You couldn’t do anything. Tied up.

How unfortunate.

It wasn’t until Anxiety’s panic attack were you actually able to do anything.

….I don’t think you need me to describe that!

However…

Anxiety didn’t mean to tie you up out of malice — it was a knee-jerk response to spiraling fear. She was losing control and needed to feel like something was anchored. That something was you.

The moment it was over, and she realized what she’d done, she fell apart. Guilt hit harder than any spiral she’d had before.

You didn’t yell. You didn’t get angry. You just looked at her — not with fear, but with understanding.

And that broke her even more.

Especially after you were untied shortly after.

You asked gently, “Are you okay?”

Not “What’s wrong with you?” Not “Why would you do that?” Just… concern.

She cried.

You let her.

Even with your wrists and most of your body still sore.

The conversation afterward was quiet and raw. She rambled — apologized a thousand times, doubted herself, called herself dangerous, unstable. But you didn’t flinch.

You said, “I trust you. Even when you don’t trust yourself yet.”

That was the moment it clicked for her — that maybe, maybe she wasn’t unlovable after all.

The two of you didn’t begin dating with a dramatic confession.

It started with a small act: you offered your hand again.

Open.

Free.

No restraints.

She stared at it like it was a loaded question.

Then she took it.

For the first few days, she was scared to touch you. Even if you kissed her on the cheek or leaned on her shoulder, she’d freeze up, worried she’d somehow mess it up again. You always let her take the lead — and she learned that consent can be soft, slow, and warm.

She becomes hypervigilant about your safety. Not controlling — just aware. She checks in constantly:

“Are you okay?”

“Do you need space?”

“Tell me if I ever do too much.”

You never get tired of reassuring her.

She builds habits to ground herself: holding your pinky when she’s overwhelmed, leaning her forehead to yours to steady her breathing, and muttering “You’re here. I’m okay.” whenever she feels herself spiraling again.

You’re the only one she allows to see her most vulnerable sides — panic attacks, shutdowns, messy nights.

You never try to “fix” her, no. Just… sit with her.

Stay with her.

That becomes her favorite feeling: not being alone when she feels most broken.

Her love language becomes acts of protection. She triple-checks everything around you, makes sure you rest, gives you stress balls (even though she uses them more than you do), and mutters things like “If anyone hurts you I’ll combust” under her breath.

When she finally tells you “I love you,” for the first time, it’s after a particularly rough night — and she says it like a secret, like a confession she’s terrified of.

You smile, brush her hair from her face, and say..:

“I know. I love you too.”

She doesn’t sleep that night — not from anxiety, but because she can’t believe you’re real.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Now, onto the real purpose of this entire thing!

After you and Anxiety get together.. well, it took you both quite a bit to come out to everyone.

Don’t get me started on your first kiss, ORR your first make-out session.

They did come at the same time.

But the amount of TIME it took for you both to finally come to that….

Bro…. JUST KISS ALREADY MFS.

Anyways..

Anxiety is VERY VERY VEERRRRRYYYYY touch-starved. And yet they don’t know how ask for any affection in the first place.

She prefers kissing in quiet, out-of-the-way corners of Headquarters. Somewhere you both can pretend no one else exists.

She has a habit of biting her lip quite a lot when they think about you, especially with their slight overbite. Not consciously. You caught her doing it once and she nearly short-circuited.

You help balance them before they spiral. Your vibe, (whether soft and grounding or teasing and lighthearted, depending on your emotion and how you usually handle these kinds of situations), helps pull them out of anxiety loops.

Her favorite thing is when you play with her hair absentmindedly while talking. She’ll never admit it, but it’s her calmest state, and don’t get me ranting about making out with her WHILE tugging at her hair.

When she finally gets comfortable for the night or just into her massage chair, she’s very clingy. Late night cuddles turn into full-on straddling your lap because in their words: “you make me feel safer like this.”

You’re the only one who can get her to stop pacing with just a look — and a kiss usually seals the deal for her.

The lights in Headquarters were dim, and the usual buzz of activity had quieted. It was late — the kind of late where thoughts were heavy and hearts beat louder than normal. You sat beside Anxiety on the edge of one of the projection platforms, legs swinging just above the floor. Close, but not touching it. Everyone had gone to rest for the night, while you two had the dream shift.

She hadn’t said anything in a while, which was… unusual.

Normally, her mouth ran faster than her brain — spirals, worst-case scenarios, endless what-ifs.

But now, she just… stared at you.

Hell, she wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“I’ve never… done this,” she whispered.

You turned to her, meeting her wide eyes.

“Done.. what, exactly?”

She looked away, fingers wringing at the hem of her sweater sleeves. A habit you always noticed her doing as of recently.

“Kissed someone. Or… made out. Or… whatever this is.”

Her voice wavered at the end, and you softened.

“That’s okay,” you said, scooting just a little closer.

“I haven’t either.”

Her eyes flicked to yours.

“Really???..”

You smiled gently.

“Really. We can learn together. No pressure.”

Anxiety’s breath caught in her throat at that. Then, slowly, tentatively, she leaned forward. Her hands didn’t know what to do, so they hovered awkwardly in her lap. You met her halfway.

The first kiss was barely a brush — your, lips barely met.. but, when you’d just opened your mouth..

She pulled back immediately, wide-eyed.

“Was that… was that right?”

You laughed softly.

“I don’t think there’s any ‘right’ way. But I’d like to try again.”

So you did.

The second kiss lasted longer. You tilted your head a little. She followed your lead, nervous hands finally reaching up to rest gently on your arms. Her lips moved shyly against yours, cautious and fluttery. Every few seconds, she’d hesitate like she was asking, Is this okay? And every time, your subtle nods and soft hums encouraged her to keep going.

When your tongue barely teased the seam of her lips, she gasped — not in discomfort, but surprise. Her cheeks turned bright pink.

“..sorry! Sorry..” she whispered.

You smiled against her mouth.

“Don’t be. That was cute.”

The kiss deepened from there — still clumsy, still innocent. Her fingers dug into your sleeves like she was scared she’d fall if she let go. She kissed you like she was afraid to get it wrong… but trusted you enough to try anyway.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathing a little heavier, faces flushed, foreheads resting together.

“That was…” she started, still catching her breath.

You smiled.

“Nice?”

She gave a small, shaky laugh.

“Yeah. Really… nice.”

And under the soft hum of the console behind you, with her hand now nervously holding yours, it was more than nice.

“..can we..” she paused for a minute before continuing.

“Can we do that again..?” At your laugh, she immediately tried to pulled away, but you stopped her! Gripping her shoulders and pulling her back to you.

“Of course.”

A/N: so….. hi!!!!!! It’s me!!!!!!!!!!! School has been kicking my ass, so I haven’t been able to write a lot.. but now, I have this!! So, enjoy it! Though it’s a year late…..

(+ Please send in Shadow Milk or Truthless Recluse requests… PLEASEPLEASE).

[ang3lofdivinity]

𝐄𝐦𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 + 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬!

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻

#🪽 — ang3lofdivinity : everything and anything I post on this blog!! Main tag.

#🕯️ — random angel things : random things I post on this account. (Rambles, reposts, etc)

#🦢 — angels reblogs : everything I reblog, whether it be my own posts, other’s posts, and so forth.

#🩰 — angels updates : updates for this blog or my life, big or small!!

#🥀 — coterie : anything related to my moots!

#🪞 — angel gets political : anything related to political happenings

#🪦 — writing : all writing will be posted under this tag! (Besides this post and masterlist).

#🕊️ — submissions : submissions for writings! (Or just general things in inbox).

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻

[ang3lofdivinity]

you punch nazis!

(requested by anonymous)

[ang3lofdivinity]

My resolution? Air strikes. BOMB THEM, BOMB THEM — KEEP BOMBING THEM. BOMB THEM AGAIN AND AGAIN.

*coming back to Tumblr to check my askbox*

*SEES LITERAL PEOPLE SENDING AND REQUESTING FEET PICS*

[ang3lofdivinity]

Agreed. I hate Trump and everything he stands for. I’m not usually political on this blog, but I need everyone who’s a trump supporter to fuck off and not interact with any of my content — block me.

[ang3lofdivinity]

☂𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚡𝚢 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢☽˚｡

Relationship(s): Hazbin Hotel (Platonic - some Romantic ideas as well) + Acheron!Reader

Format: Stories + Headcanons

Genre: Fluffy goodness, but of course angst is in here as well

Warnings: Spoilers for Hazbin, Spoilers for Honkai Star Rail, Angst, Valentino, toxic behaviors and everything, normal hell activities, swearing, reader is just like Acheron (even with clothes), violence, gore, toxic behavior (ahem that memokeeper), discrimination, suicidal/dark thoughts, emetophobia, cannibalism.

A/N: Wrote this in the night, so this’ll be decently bad…. Um. ALSO. I’ll get to my asks after this, I promise. There’ll probably be a different version of this where reader makes it in heaven / where the reader gets with the Vees :)) - Also.. YOU GET A SONG!!?!,‘Clawed’ hand refers to the claw jewelry Acheron has for you :33 Thank you to @littlewonders7 for the main idea for this fic! Also note: Reader is NOT Acheron, they are only similar. Skin color, hair, etc is up to you (but I decide your outfit. Because I say so.)

Side note: This is mainly a STORY fic, and an overview of where the Reader will end up with some Headcanons, this will be continued in another part because this took WAY TOO long to write.

A rush of pain flows through your head, accumulating a headache which blooms like a flower. A flower thats poisonous vines with prickly thorns wrap around, it creates pounding sensation in your skull that hurts more than you could possibly fathom, furthermore it causes the feeling of a throbbing sensation behind your oculus’s. Luckily enough, it feels as if they’ve been shut tight considering there’s absolutely nothing you can see but pure darkness. However, during your time as a Galaxy Ranger from years ago, to now (where you still have no-one)- you’ve learned to use your other senses if in need of it.

The ground beneath you felt far too warm to be any normal location within any planet you’ve visited so far, or one you’ve been to before as a matter of fact. It’s so.. uncomfortable. So much so that you swear you can feel yourself sweating, trickling down. This makes you believe you’re flat on your back, but you can’t exactly pinpoint on what, and it’s making you nervous. You barely get nervous over things like these.

What were you doing before this?.. 

. . .

“Memokeeper, do you not understand the definition of ‘I wish to be alone’? Have you no respect nor decorum? You continuously insisting on interfering with my personal affairs will do no good for your reputation in my book.” Your voice unintentionally sounded harsher than you intended, but the anger swirling within leaving a bitter taste on your tongue made it all the more infuriating that someone was constantly prodding into your business. It’s.. awkward. The different length high-heeled black boots you’re wearing click against the pavement of the sidewalk, the red parasol you’re carrying covering the glimmering light of the moon, streetlights stationed on almost every sidewalk, along with all sorts playing on the televisions shining down.

The stubborn memokeeper beside you strides along, hands behind their back as they laugh at your, as what they believe, antics.

Barely anyone is walking the streets of the city from what you can tell from the bright florescent lights of lampposts, considering it’s night. There’s barely anyone around you two..

“Oh, please. You think I’d leave a criminal like you freely tread around the city knowing you could kill another innocent citizen here?” Your gloved hand tightened around the handle of the parasol, oculus’s narrowing down at the tips of your heels as you try to relax yourself, feeling your blood boil at their words.

“No wonder you can’t love yourself..” They mumbled under their breath, chuckling at their unfunny joke.

“A Galactic monstrosity like you… I can understand.”

This is what they want: a reaction out of you. You’re not going to submit to their demands.

“Wow. How impertinent and immature of you, █████ ████. Accusing me of a crime which I am merely a suspect in, with not even enough grounding evidence that can actually prove me to be the true culprit. I never thought you could stoop this low.” After your decently blunt words, you attempted to ignore the memokeeper.

Thankfully enough for you, they were keeping silent for most of this walk. Looks like they were getting the hint.

Until their footsteps stop.

And it makes you stop in your tracks, about to turn on your heel.

That is until you feel something slamming against the back of your skull, coupled to the blood rushing through. Stumbling forward, you struggle to keep yourself up on your feet- struggle to keep yourself awake even for crying aloud.

And you can no longer keep your balance.

Gentle fingertips graze against the back of your head where the blood is gushing out as it oozed to the back of your neck, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than your own skin. No-one was there to witness the crime they had committed. How lovely! You looked to be paling rapidly, collapsed on your side. They rubbed their thumb over their index and middle finger, smearing the liquid on their glove in a circular motion. Staring blankly at your pathetic form- they smiled, resting their blood-soaked hand over the wound which caused a soft lavender light to illuminate from beneath it.

They weren’t heartless. But of course, they weren’t just going to heal you all the way!

Pulling their hand away, they slipped their non-blood covered hand into one of their pockets, pulling out a tarot card: a simple main color, being black, is mixed with intricate golden designs curling around it. But then, they started chanting something you couldn’t make out:

What’s going on?..

. . .

The atmosphere around you feels more humid than ever, not only that- it appears to be very different from other planets you’ve ventured: it’s also choleric, disorderly, and noxious. Though, you’re still alive. It must have something keeping you breathing in this unfamiliar environment.

Your hair is the only thing cushioning your head, still resting against the rough surface of the ground beneath you. Trying to move your arms, you take notice of how heavy your bones feel, like something is restraining them. This could not get any worse. They fall back slack against the surface of the ground, the hot

Furrowing your brows together, you attempt to for your eyes open despite how this migraine is progressing along with the heavy feeling of your eyelids keeping your eyes shut tight. You have to get them open. You have to get up. Slowly, you find yourself cracking open your eyelids just enough that they’ve raised just enough that they’re half-lidded.. which was actually harder than you thought. What the actual hell is going on??

Blurry, almost like a white fuzz effect is causing everything to appear blurry to you. Your pupils start to dilate as you essay to comprehend your surroundings.

Something bright is burning—

Oh wait.

..The Sun?

Or at least, something akin to a sun. It’s only making everything worse the longer you try to stare at it.

Drawing your attention away from the blinding light, you find it lingering on the sky, which is a wine red color and a ribbon red pentagram at the very top, almost like a sigil. Looking at all of this at once made the throbbing migraine slowly become worse, causing you intake a sharp breath through gritted teeth.

It was painful.

It hurt just to be awake in this moment, and you didn’t want that. But does a Galaxy Ranger ever give up during times of confusion and harm?

You want to.

You really do.

Maybe all of this would end, and you could just feel at peace for once in your goddamn life.

Nevertheless, you found yourself forcing one of your arms to move to pinch your shoulder, just to confirm you were in the Reverie hotel and this was just some odd nightmare. But it wouldn’t work. You know that. If this was the Reverie, you would’ve been able to awake in your hotel room, or even in a place like Golden Hour.

The small flash of pain from the pinch was still lingering on your skin, however you could care less in this moment. You needed to get up. With a huff of pain, you’ve propped yourself up on your elbows (despite the long and drawled out process it took in order to get yourself in that position), struggling to keep your eyes open and yourself awake. There’s no point in falling asleep when you’re already up. Plus, you won’t be able to fall asleep once again that easily, unfortunately. It’s by far one the worse feelings by far.

The pit within your stomach, creating a strange sensation that causes unease makes you want to continue to try and rest (even if it’s futile), but you don’t follow it, and instead manage to bring yourself to get on your knees. You’re trying to ignore the aching pain that’s practically taking over your body with every action you take by overwhelming yourself with a singular thought.

The ‘death’ awaiting you when your end finally arrives.

Served on a silver platter.

Huffing, you finally take a moment to let your eyes adjust to your surroundings: you’re, in what it appears to be, a vast and overcrowded city. How overwhelming and inconvenient.

The more you overlook this megalopolis ablaze with neon lights flickering on and off, the more it made you dizzy and worsen your migraine symptoms. Yet you take a deep breath.

You ignore it.

The best you can- at least.

You attempt to keep looking, noticing that some of these signs actually have some words on them- indicating what they have in store for any living person within this metropolis. Casinos, nightclubs, adult film studios, brothels, restaurants, television stations, and hotels are only a few things that you could name. What gets you to tear your gaze away is, what appears to be, a large clock tower glowing ever so brightly glowing with a golden hue as if blessed by the aeons themselves.

In a way, it makes you feel even more sick.

A rotten feeling. Truly.

It hurt more horribly than you originally thought.

…

There’s no ignoring this anymore, you have to find something to relieve your pain.

But you’re in an unfamiliar location.

Realizing you’ve been laying on a warm cobblestone pathway, on the near outskirts of any human interactions.

Where theres far too many individuals bustling around whom you can’t even see from here. But, thanks to the indistinct chattering of people and clicks of the heels of shoes tell you everything you needed to hear.

And what if no-one recognizes you?

Maybe that’s for the better, though. You would much rather have no-one know who you are than at least one person who does (that is, if you don’t have much of an intimate relationship).

The vertigo lingering around has made it that you could care less at this point.

Does this planet have an apothecary somewhere?

A quiet sigh escapes past your lips while your hand glides down to find the hilt of your long sword, which isn’t hard to find considering your position. With a hum of satisfaction, you carefully begin to stand up, the heels of your shoes clicking as you first begin in a lunge to raise yourself up. The vertigo almost makes you loose your balance, yet you continue.

Theres no other option.

You can never turn back — the path behind is gone.

That’s what you’ve always said, after all.

Driving yourself forward, you’re able to fully stand up and be able to take a few steps forward, but not without stepping on something that causes you to look down.

..Your parasol?

Retracting your heel, you take a moment to stare at it. You haven’t broken anything, it’s just almost caused you to lose your balance by the round handle.

Without a second thought, you slowly get down on one knee and grab it by the handle before arising back up from your spot, and open it as it unfurls before you. It feels.. comforting, just to have something that’s a memorabilia of sorts. It makes you nearly forget the other so despondent feelings dissipate. Slightly, that is.

A soft smile graces your lips, letting out a small sigh of relief.

Yet when you turn your head to look back at the very large city… you decide to head on over to one of the more safer looking buildings to find directions, and where to get out of here again. After-all, you don’t wanna be stuck in here longer than you have to be.

You haven’t even finished your mission on Aureon yet..

Not only that, but considering the amount of people after you- along with that large bounty placed over your head.. it’d be best if you didn’t dawdle around some unfamiliar location for too long. Who knows what could happen to you.

The melodic clicks of your heels sound out as you lower your head to look down at the tips of your heels, your parasol blocking out many of the Illuminating lights ahead. As you stroll through the oppressively humid city, you try to remain.. oblivious to the world around you. However, the sound of.. sloshing catches your attention. It’s grotesque… far too grotesque for your liking, and coupled with the rotting smell that hits your nose— it leaves you with an unpleasant feeling that you cannot describe.

It makes you feel physically sick.

Aeons— is someone chewing on something?? Why does it sound so awful? Why is your gut instinct telling you to run away, just anywhere else that isn’t here??? Your free hand reaches down to the hilt of your sword for some form of self-reassurance, trying to think rationally of the situation.

Until you simply cannot take the suspense.

You tried, you truly tried. But those aeon awful noises are making you far too agitated for no reason, it makes you want to throw up right here and now.

Tentatively, you raise your parasol, only to witness some.. far too peculiar things that make you regret ever looking.

Cannibals. They’re eating each-other. The blood spilling from the corpse they’ve violated, and it looks raw. Fresh, brand new for crying aloud. As if they grabbed some random individual to commit these.. heinous acts on. They grip onto the poor victims clothes and now limp body, ripping, gnawing, tearing at the skin as they devour the victim. And nobody even bats an eye. It.. somewhat makes sense as you survey further. All of the denizens here look like goddamn demons the more you look over them. You see things on fire, citizens running all-about the city, and what appears to be on the TV’s are.. less than pleasant to rest your eyes on.

Your eyes widen with terror, trying to comprehend what’s even happening.

It isn’t until someone approaches you from behind do you feel the amount of fear equivalent to when back on your home planet. Back when they—

Before even thinking twice, or at all for that matter about what you’re going to do, which your thoughts are all too fast for your liking as you can’t even catch up. That is, before you use your long sword- still within it’s scabbard, deftly turning on your heel as you slice the individual behind you in-half.

It was an automatic response. An instinct. It’s not your fault. It’s NOT your fault—

Your legs automatically move backward before you twirl around once again and dash forward, making you sprint faster than you’d ever had. You need to make it to that building.

You need to get out of the streets.

You have to get out.

Y̸o̴u̷ ̷h̶a̶v̷e̷ ̷t̷o̸ ̴g̶e̶t̶ ̶o̶u̴t̸.̷

Y̷̛̖̊̆̄́̿͐͌̓͛̓̈o̸͎͆͑͋̂̍̕͘͝ù̷̡̢̱̥͇̟͛̂́̎̏̚͘͠ ̵̧̛̳͉͍̎̎̓̎̏̑͋̄͛͠͝͝ḩ̷̢̛̫͔̗̱̖͑̇̽̄̐̉͛̎̆̋͑ͅą̵̧̝̝̠̱̫͇͚̥͙͍̀ͅṽ̵̟̻͎̰̦̫̺̺̬̦̜̥̗̾͗͆̽́͒͐̚͝ȩ̵̨̢̭͈̳̫̱̱͖̤̠͎̩̐̅̒̔̄͆́͘ ̶̜̯̥͇̣̻̟̝̜̦̀͜ͅͅt̴͈͚͍͚͎͙̫͖͉̬͙̦̋̌͒̉̂̃̀͝o̴̥͛͐̑̌͌͗̎̓͘͠ ̴̘̟̗̰͔̬̮̻̹̘͔̒̈́̔̈́ͅg̷̯̳͙͉͇̮̲̥̃͆͋̃̓͌̅͑̄̍̂͐͆͜͝ḙ̴̄t̶̻͕̗̪̘͌̄̄̀̈́̊̄́̌̈́͐͐̃̐͝ ̷̫̮̗̘͇͚̪̫͖̭͐̂̂̌̓̈́̉́̂̔͘͝o̴̦̰̰̞̜̺̘̺̜͑̂͂͑̄͊͂͝u̶̹̘͙͇̱̜̩͇͉͈̖̲̪̖͙͈̐̌̈́̀̃͛͂̌̒̂̈́̏̉̚͝t̵̡̢͎̟̜̣̗̝̪̬̯̪́͊̑̅͒͛̆́̾̃͐̾̄̌͠ͅ.̸̨̡̩̯͉͇̜̮̤̺̥̘̣̲̇̃͛͌̓̓̈͛

It doesn’t take long till you’re at the entrance, where you dart into a small, tube-like elevator, desperate to escape, just to find solace or help somewhere else before you’ll find yourself in an much more horrible predicament than now. Where you’ll have to reveal something that could be seen as.. more terrifying, perhaps.

As the doors close and the elevator ascends, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched (because you are. Why is a human-like being here?) where the dreadful sensation of unease washes over you. It makes you lightheaded, or make you feel like it. You move your gaze away to look down instead of outside. Taking heavy breaths, you try to figure out what the hell is going to be your next course of action.

There’s cannibals, no other human-like beings in sight, someone possibly with the malicious intentions come up right behind you, no sort of guards here, no hope.

Damn the apothecary now, you need to get out of this.. hell.



Hearing a small ‘ding’ sound that rings out as you arrive on whatever floor it’s mandated to, you find yourself finally opening your eyes after the countless times you’ve tried at least tried you relax yourself and your racing thoughts.

Your hand instinctively finds itself on the intricately designed scabbard by the side of your hip while your brows knit together as you survey around.

No-one as of currently is around, but this place certainly has to be one of business given the multiple tube-like elevators all stationed in, what you suspect, to be a lounge or hallway of sorts. The dark grey tiles are in-front of each of these elevators, which you also notice to have silver insignia’s at the top of them, with the other part of the tube changing into a ribbon red with the same dark grey colored swirls. There’s red wine tinted windows all around, some in front of you having some sort of badges with similar formatting and designs (specifically with the weapons appearing to be made out of the same materials).

The fluorescent lighting is somewhat dim, which you’re more than grateful for. Though, the fragrance of rich perfume which has been previously spritzed all around, or what it seems, isn’t very strong but- reminds you of some sort of hospital scent… just made with some more sweeter and pleasant oils of sorts. There a red carpet draped down the middle of the floor, where you see some stairs and a double-door meeting room.

Lucky guess?

A part of your mind tells you to approach, yet the other- more rational part tells you to not to.

If anything does try to threaten you, you can always be able to unleash some of the true power you hold. As long as these beings aren’t stronger than you, you should be able to take them.

No?

Exiting the elevator, you quickly tread upon the carpet, one of your hands still resting on the scabbard of your sword. It isn’t until you rest your ‘clawed’ hand against the upper part on one-side of the door, do you feel the cool sensation of dread wash over you.

If you await any longer, you’ll look like a fool and be exiled out with no help (probably).

..You find yourself opening the door, and the dread.. subsides for a moment as you survey the room: there are at least 8 cushioned chairs with a softer pink color with a certainly- detailed design. The long ivory table is placed perfectly in the center with a similar design to the chairs, and a dark grey table cloth down the center of it (or is it painted?… you cannot tell).

Theres a projector screen in the back—

“Unsought guests are not allowed on the premises, let alone anyone breaking in without me or any other authorized being who I trust given permission.”

When you hear another voice, your head whips to the cause of it- behind you. You quickly raised up your sheathed blade in a protective manner as you stare at the being:

They’re unusually tall, with light gray-skinned who has their long white hair with black streaks. It’s styled into large horns by thin, ballerina-like black ribbons.

They have a darker-colored marking that appears similar to a mask on their face around their eyes, which have white irises and red sclera. The rest of their arms and hands are colored white, it seems. Something that sticks out to you however, is with their hands being rather large in proportion to their body.

They wear an off-the-shoulder black dress with white buttons and white stripes located down the front and at the rim of the spiked skirt, which includes hot pink lining. They also wear black waist-length stockings covered by white ballerina shoelaces.

“I don’t trespass on your property with any malicious intentions whatsoever. I am only here to ask for some.. assistance. Nothing much— I simply need directions.” Your voice is firm as you lower your weapon. But, you’re still on guard with your shoulders tense and eyes narrowed.

They look down at you for a moment, almost condescendingly before their eyes drift to your weapon.

“And .. I’m just supposed to believe you have no harmful intentions when you’re carrying that around, and nearly insinuated you were going to harm me?” They raise an eyebrow, an almost repulsive expression on their face. You shake your head, before speaking again.

“Understand that this is used purely for my protection. It has become a habit for me to keep it up, knowing I could never be safe in a clearly different environment. Also note that I don’t even know who you are, nor what.. any of this is. I’m not from here, and purely came for where to find out where an apothecary could be around here. I can say for certain I have enough problems, and I’m not looking for any others anytime soon.” Quick. That’s the first thing that comes to the strangers mind as they realize your situation.

But, you can tell they still don’t trust you enough.

“Sharp tongue, hm? Yet you come here without any knowledge of this place, you say? How can I know you don’t work for anyone and are simply here to try and attack, or manipulate me? Why shouldn’t I kill you here and now?” Folding their hands behind their back, they straighten their posture, walking right past you while you turn on your heel to look at them.

“That is the only thing I implore you for. Directions. Then I’ll be right out of your business. I have to figure a way to get back to the planet I was at and finish my duties there as well, so I’m not even staying here long, I’m… not even sure how I got here.” It’s noticeable that your voice drops in pitch a bit, lowering your head as you rest your free hand on the center of your collarbone.

You can tell they’re pondering something as they stare you down.

Aeons this feels awkward.

Perhaps that’s why the sudden dreadful sensation came back to fully drown you in a cool, empty abyss.

Cold sweat is the first thing you feeling as everything becomes muddled. In your vision, white spots start appearing accompanied by a faint ringing sound that gradually gets louder to the point you think your eardrums are going to bleed. A gasp escapes past your lips as you try grounding yourself.

“..How am I to…….”

You know you don’t have one- but it felt as if you had a fever, which grew hotter much to your distaste, it made you clammy. It wasn’t until you felt like you were going to throw up that you stopped feeling the rise in temperature that very clearly did not stop even if you didn’t feel it.

Although you thought that whatever was starting to wash over you was subtle, the being in front of you immediately took note of your sudden shift in appearance and demeanor.

I mean, if you could just look at yourself: You were doubled over, arms wrapped around your abdomen. The way your eyes became unfocused and you slurred your words, trying to respond to their queries even in your current state. How.. thoughtful.

Perhaps you weren’t working with some despicable organizations, such as the Vee’s.

..yes. That has to be true. How do you have such a human appearance otherwise? You obviously can’t be from here… did a human find some sort of rip between their world and this hellscape? No- how do you have a sword???

What caused them to snap out of their train of thought was the sound of you collapsing onto the floor.

…

Goddamit.

. . .

Jolting upward from whatever this newly soft material underneath you is, you find yourself nearly screaming, yet— you were able to realize while thinking about it more- that it could lead to something more catastrophic. That being, whoever was here could attempt to harm you. Keyword: Attempt. And that would be a hindrance.

You know that if they tried.. you’d be able to handle it! (You’re literally a non-human being which is an Emantor of the End.)

..Even with the nervousness causing you to shiver as you heard rapid footsteps approaching the room you were in. How the hell did they know you were awake?

…

There’s a camera in the corner of the room. You noticed from the red blinking light of it.

Three knocks sound out from the other side of the wooden door, before the metal handle turns rather slowly. You find yourself coming to the realization… you don’t have your sword, though your parasol is in the far left corner of the room. You instantaneously looking around in a frenzy, trying to figure out where the hell they placed your sword-

The sudden tossing of something hits your side and you nearly flinch, and instead look down.

..your sword. They had it.

“..Thank you.” Your voice is raspy and it makes you cringe in response, immediately clearing your throat before looking up at the person at the door.

The same stranger from before.

“Carmilla. Carmilla Carmine.” She speaks, finally introducing herself.

“Thank you, Mrs Carmine.” You repeat once again, bowing your head in respect. Grabbing your sword, you slowly get up. Finding your shoes neatly put next to the bed.

“I expect you out of here in at least 5 minutes.” She says firmly before she starts to close the door.

You don’t know what came over you..

“Wait-“ Hastily, you twisted your torso so you’re looking at her. And she stops in her tracks.

..you need to get away from where ever this is. But, perhaps exploring a bit and making some connections here wouldn’t be so bad.

“..I know there’s a way I can make this up to you. For your kindness, I mean. I don’t know where I am, but I can give you as much information as you need about me that I’m comfortable sharing. Please- I need to figure out where I’m going to go from here, I can be a useful asset.”

Who knew this could all happen from a simple journey to find a pharmacy.

Alright so.. i’ve decided I’ll split this up to be a a different part story kinda thing. So this of this as a prologue/Chapter 1

Thank you all for reading!!

Part 2

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[ang3lofdivinity]

I love emotionally unstable characters with a past that cope by being crazy 🌞