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whoopsyeahokay · 4 months

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October Sun

summary: Wally hadn't been able to make sense of what you'd said. How had it been possible that he and the others had been trapped for so long without knowing it? With that truth out for him to examine, Wally hadn't been sure he'd wanted to look any closer. He'd felt violated. Betrayed. Lost. What other lies had he been unwittingly a part of?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.14

The world fell away as your words penetrated. Wally stilled, didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't make a sound. As if he could delay the impact of that truth if he shut down critical functions.

Weakly, "What do you...mean?" Wally croaked, but something deep within himself had always known.

Known it like common sense; the feeling like looking at a green sky and knowing it was supposed to be blue. Like being sick since birth yet knowing that that wasn't what healthy felt like. He'd known and yet never questioned it because he and the others had had no way to be sure their situation was terribly, tragically wrong.

In the earliest days succeeding his untimely demise, Wally had tried to leave the school.

Not to follow his mother home after she'd donated his trophies, helmet, and jacket to display in the stadium entrance. Not to join his friends in Rodney's basement to get stoned after his memorial service. Not to break his own heart by stalking Jenny to the motel where she and her second choice prom date, Gary fucking Reid, lost their virginities together.

Rather, to go for a walk for the sake of getting some air. Despite having been flung back to the field multiple times by then—a lesson that had drilled into him the habit of remaining perpetually vigilant of his surroundings—Wally had had this intrinsic understanding that he could roam beyond what the barrier permitted.

So much so that, one evening, he hadn't kept track of where he'd been going (partly because he'd trusted himself to veer away from the perimeter, but mostly because he'd been relaxed. Not actively chasing down a loved one). It'd been an unconscious series of actions; one foot in front of the other, listening to Eddie Money's Can't Hold Back on a Lost & Found walkman, strolling into the thin smattering of trees on the edge of the grounds, and then wham—

Back to Start.

It had happened a few times after that, too. Rhonda would cackle around her lollipop du jour, roll her eyes, and tell him to, "Get smart, Jockstrap."

When Charley had come along, he'd experienced the same thing. And then Ajay and Katelynn. Learning the lesson after the lesson had been learned. Mr. Martin had calmly and wisely informed them that it was merely the result of not having internalized being dead yet.

But that hadn't sat right with Wally, similar to having been given the excuse of roughhousing when he'd caught his parents in a compromising position one innocuous summer-break afternoon before he'd aged into double digits.

"Babe..." Wally croaked, just above a whisper, the weight of what you'd unveiled slamming into his chest and leaving him winded, "What are you saying?"

Your eyes, marbled and bright—though not outright glowing like they had in the theater—stared right into him for a moment. You were obviously calculating what it meant that Wally couldn't leave the high school, all the hows and whys flittering like dust motes between you and him.

"Unless you're a residual haunter, like Mina or Yuri, you should be able to go wherever you want. How long have you been stuck?"

Wally's throat clicked when he swallowed, "Since I died."

You pressed your forehead to his, hands slotting under his jaw, and, voice laced with grief, said, "That's not possible."

"I mean, maybe it is?" Wally tried to reason, slumping back in his seat and staring at the 5-yard line as he stitched together his own theories based on what he'd learned as an actual dead person. "It's not like ghosts wrote those books you read. Maybe whoever wrote them got it wrong."

Shaking your head, "Actually, they did. Not the physical copies, obviously, but those authors collaborated with ghosts to write those books."

Wally didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if he could answer a lot of things anymore. Did he even know what it meant to be dead?

You seemed willing wait him out as he turned everything over in his head, one hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the one he'd had on your calf so you could string his arm through your legs and cradle his hand on your belly, your thumb rubbing soothing patterns between the bones.

"What does it mean?" He asked, distant.

Wally could feel himself slipping away, the revelation frosting him from the inside and making him numb. He'd had a similar experience when he'd been fourteen and had broken his collarbone. The pain so intense that his brain had immediately severed its connection to the feeling.

Shock.

"It means that something doesn't want you to leave." You answered once he'd returned his eyes to yours. Your features creased, "Or someone."

Wally felt that statement like a nail through the chest. "How?"

You stared at him helplessly, caressing his cheek and then tilting forward to press your foreheads together again. The action worked to ground Wally, reeled him back from the edge of an existential crisis he wasn't ready to have.

Regretfully, "I don't know, Wally. But we'll figure it out, okay?"

He nodded against you. Closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth of your nearness, the solidity of your touch. Allowed those things to calm him.

"At least we can rule out Mr. A having anything to do with that, right?" Wally snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You pulled back, smiled gently, and nodded, "Right. But he could've used it to his advantage. With her soul stuck here, Maddie wouldn't be able to get back into her body and then go to the police. It also means that he could've safely stashed her body anywhere, so long as he has access to life support."

"You think he dropped her at the hospital?"

"Not here." You said, "Split River isn't big enough to pull that off. He could've driven her to another state? Dropped her off at a big city hospital as a Jane Doe?"

Wally grimaced, shaking his head at the depravity, "That's messed up."

"God, her body could be in Detroit for all we know and it wouldn't get back here until someone in the hospital there made the connection. Unless Sheriff Baxter decides to widen the search."

"Couldn't you ask him? It's like you said, Xavier's your brother from another mother. Wouldn't the sheriff listen to you?"

You didn't seem convinced, reciting in a satire of an upbeat tone, "Hey Sheriff, I think my teacher knocked Maddie out of her body and took it to another state all so she wouldn't tell you about the money he's hiding in his classroom. We should totally look into that."

Wally responded in a responsible manner, "That sounds like an awful idea, let's not do that."

Curling against the back of your seat, voice slightly strangled, you uttered, "So, Maddie's stuck in an In Between 'til I can find her body and bring it back to her."

Wally sensed the granite mass of the pressure you were already putting on yourself. Choosing to steer you out from under it, he diverted the conversation, "Still haven't told me what an In Between is, by the way."

It did the trick, at least for the time being. Your lips quirked up at the corners and the wrinkle between your brows vanished as you informed him, "It's exactly what it sounds like. A plain between plains."

"Yeah, pretty thing, you're going to have to dumb it down more." Wally said, willing to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of making you smile.

Grinning, you set the stage, "Think of plains like different worlds. I'm in the living world, you're in the dead world, right?"

"Got it."

"Now, pretend there are doorways into those worlds. In Betweens are the spaces between the doors." You nibbled your bottom lip and Wally's attention immediately slipped, the urge to lick into your mouth making him twitch. Sweetly unaware, you back-tracked and tried a different avenue, "Not doors...maybe glass walls?"

"The door thing made sense. I mean, I think I get it. In Betweens are those places that anyone can access, whereas the living world is just for the living and the dead world is just for the dead. Am I close?"

"Yeah, you got it." You praised and Wally had to stifle the desire to puff out his chest and preen. "Well, not anyone can access In Betweens, but if your soul can Travel, that's where you go."

"So, when you project, you're in an In Between." Wally stated, though he was hedging for clarification.

"Exactly."

"And you said Maddie's stuck in an In Between, too, right?"

Wally saw the moment you clocked where he was going with that train of thought.

With a lamenting sigh, you said, "Unfortunately, In Betweens are complex. They're unique to all kinds of things like bloodlines and soul-ties—" Wally opened his mouth to ask, but you got there first, "—incredibly deep bonds you make in life with another person." He closed his mouth and listened as you elaborated. "So, me and my great-aunt enter the same In Between and can see each other. But Maddie..."

"Isn't blood?"

"And she and I weren't close enough to form the type of bond you'd need to Travel the same In Between. Either she'd have had to invite me into hers or I'd have had to invite her into mine. It's extremely intimate. Not something you do with someone you only hang out with in a group." You perked up and finally gave Wally a full, supernova smile. "I actually wrote you some notes."

The implication conjured an image of you scribbling notes for him under light cast from a laptop screen, kicking your feet as you lay on your bed like a schoolgirl. All so that he could understand the twisty, twiddly secrets of the universe...

He swooned, barely holding back a wistful exhale.

And then his brain ticked back a few frames to you on an unmade bed. The collar of the oversized t-shirt Wally hoped you owned bearing one shoulder, and the smooth skin of your legs on display.

He couldn't care less about the state of his deadness now, and what it meant that he couldn't leave the school grounds. Instead, he let a slow, devilish smirk slant across his mouth, emboldened by hormones and how receptive you were as he leaned into your space.

He slid his hand from yours and placed it on your thigh, "Gonna let me copy your homework, baby?"

"Gotta get those grades up before the big game." You played along, "Don't want you kicked off the team."

Without hesitation, Wally struck, halfway out of his seat, hand gripping the armrest behind you to hold himself up. He loomed over you, little thing that you were, squished into your seat and completely caged in by him. He hovered, heard your breath hitch, and watched your gaze go hazy.

"Lucky to have a girl like you on my side, then, huh?" Wally said, voice rough, tightly controlled, closing the distance between your lips in increments.

You reached up, wrapped your arms around his neck, "Damn right, big shot," and dipped in.

A throat cleared somewhere over Wally's shoulder, from behind and moderately above, and drove him back into his seat at Mach speed, his hold on you resituating to a socially acceptable place on your ankle. The interruption was accompanied by that arcing of gravity that emitted from a living body which meant Wally was once more on the outside looking in.

"Okay there, hot shot, time to get moving. Students aren't s'posed to be up here outside'a game time." The maintenance worker said, illicit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Wally noticed the man wasn't quite looking at you, and, for the first time, he had to wonder what the hell people saw when you and he were together while you were still in your body.

You pulled yourself up as fast as the angle allowed you to without injury, foot still tucked in Wally's lap. As soon as your head peeked above the back of your seat, the maintenance worker clutched a hand to his heart and plucked the cigarette from his lips.

"Jesus, girl, you can't do that to folks." He scolded you, southern accent thickening, "Lookin' like a zombie comin' out the grave or what."

"Sorry," You said and sounded as puzzled as Wally was by the man's overreaction.

"Just hurry up and get goin'." His eyes swept in a strange pattern, away from you then back then away, fixing on a point that would have been Wally's nose if he weren't invisible. "You kids these days thinking you can be wherever you wanna be, huh? Ignoring the rules, like they don't apply to you..."

God, this guy. "Can it, asshole. Give her a minute to get up." Wally snapped, bolstered by the fact that the man couldn't hear him. "Bet you're bent outta shape because all that nicotine makes your dick about as useful as a wet napkin."

He heard you choke on a laugh that you quickly masked under a cough.

The man squinted, lips pursed in aggravation. Surprisingly, he departed with no more than a gruff, "Get gone!" and stuck his half-burned cigarette back into his mouth.

Wally glared after him as the man marched up the stairs toward a ladder open beneath a curtain of cables and metal that spilled from the ceiling. Clearly, the man had been in the middle of fixing something when he'd seen you.

"Fucker." Wally grumbled. He patted your leg, pressed a kiss to your knee before he released you.

"I appreciated the support," You giggled, "Even if it doesn't do much on my side of things, it's nice to know you have my back."

"I've always got you, baby." Wally vowed as he unfolded himself and rose to his feet. He couldn't help tacking on, "Every bit of you," with a wink that made you pink up so prettily.

You wetted your lips, ducked your face into your shoulder; shy after you'd been caught in what might’ve been a very awkward position. "I'm starting to get that."

Wally let you take the lead, enjoyed how you brushed up against him as you shuffled out of the row and onto the stairs. He shot the man one last angry look as he grabbed his jacket and then turned to trail you across the field and out of the stadium.

At the top of the grandstand, feet from the ladder, the man examined his cigarette through a profoundly glum expression.

With a grunt, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it under the thick sole of his work boot, simultaneously pulling the crumpled, two-from-empty pack out of his breast pocket and whipping it into a nearby trashcan.

💀___________________________

PART THIRTEEN - PART FIFTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Sun

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tpwrtrmnky · 3 months

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brainrot for this has gotten so far that im turning aspects of this universe into goddamn fake pokemon 💀

is this a bit niche? Idk

armagedoom (armageddon beast + doom) - dark/fighting type - doesn’t evolve

“Filled with hatred and coming straight from the ultra hell, this pokemon indiscriminately rampages through wherever it is, using its ungodly and terrifying form to paralyze its victims via fear before brutally slashing them to pieces.”

formitaly (former italy) - fire/ghost type - doesn’t evolve

“an ancient legend speaks of a country rich in history and culture, filled with people with thoughts, dreams and feelings which were smothered in an instant without a second thought so a corporate conglomerate could make more money. While these pokemon are the remnants of this ancient land, they continue to spread their culture in their afterlife despite their pain, making sure it never dies.”

PTYMGan yamask - fairy/ghost type - evolves into coucherigus

“this pokemon is said to be the remnants of a person who held hatred of those who deviate from the normal in their heart, now having to live with being ridiculed themselves for the rest of their afterlife, the sofa hanging from their tail signifying exactly what they are”

coucherigus (couch + runerigus) - fairy/ghost type - doesn’t evolve

“with its sadness turned into bitterness, this pokemon’s evolution has emboldened it to attempt to enforce its draconic beliefs onto the world with a newfound vigor, wearing its frankly quite stupid means of death as a badge of honor in the war to make everyone conform that it is also losing by a landslide”

tormentea (torment juice + sinistea) - poison/ghost type - evolves into tormengeist

“it is said that this pokemon was born in an ancient crucible fired by pure pain and suffering, although the measly form of a sentient bottle suggest otherwise. Despite this, any who drink from it suffer excruciating torment for seemingly no reason at all”

tormengeist (torment juice + polteageist) - poison/ghost type - doesn’t evolve

“this cruel pokemon only wishes to inflict torment upon the world, although the reason is unknown. It will offer its torturous liquid to people who wish to further their pointless self-destructive habits and then drain their life force from there”

jeffternal (immortal jeff + eternity) - dark/steel type - legendary pokemon

“it is said that this legendary pokemon was brought into existence by the greedy desires of big corporate with the singular goal of owning everything that exists. Today, nobody knows the whereabouts of jeffternal, but some say it controls the very fabric of society, slowly gaining more property in its posession, and soon it will have the very free will that defines humans under its ownership”

if it wasnt already obvious, armagedoom is based on the armageddon beast (in this AU hell is located in ultra space), formitaly is based on former italy, PTMYGan yamask and coucherigus are based on the chromaphobes and being turned into a couch, tormentea and tormengeist are based on torment juice and the torment crucibles, and jeffteral is based on immortal jeff

I love this, it's amazing

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bomber-grl · 8 months

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General grover dating headcanons ⋆°🌱

~ ⋆｡‧𖦹 Grover Underwood x Gn!Reader

Grover is the absolute sweetest 😭🫶

Ofc he’s super sassy too but that’s besides the point

Grover initially is a bit hesitant on acting on his crush on you

Especially if you’re a demigod and mostly because he’s just shy like that

He needs some obvious encouragement and gets a good amount of it from annabeth and Percy

I mean, from first glance Grover has been attracted to you and just you as a person overall

Unfortunately he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to be your friend just yet but that was one of his main goals

He eventually began running into you, usually at the pavilion when he would talk to Percy or if you work at the strawberry fields then he gets to know you

Otherwise you’re introduced by Percy, his wingman

He’s so painfully awkward around you it sorta endearing 😭

He really doesn’t know how to romance you or even begin trying to get close to you as a friend so he’s definitely struggling with that

It’s not until he finds a subject that your interested in and he might even go as far as watching the show, reading the book I mean anything to have common ground 😭

I mean to even date Grover you’d have to be in touch with nature so if you’re an advocate for nature and have an appreciation for it and it’s animals then he’s even more enamored with you

Especially if you confront people on it because he sometimes doesn’t have the confidence to

Anyway, the way you two started dating was around the time or maybe a little after he was rescued in sea of monsters

Dude really realized how scared and how fast things can pass so he tries his best to hype himself up and Percy does the same

Annabeth too but tries to not bring up the actual probability-

Anyway

You’re both probably done tending to the strawberries or maybe after lunch time

You’re both grateful to just be alive and well at camp and you both decide to go for a walk since it’d been awhile

You both walked past trees and it got to a certain point where Grover just sat down and asked you to join him

He had planned this a million times, rehearsed it to the point it was engraved into his mind-

“I like you”

Huh?

You had just confessed to him in a seconds impulsivity when this guy had been mentally preparing your whole friendship

EVEN BEFORE

his jaw drops and gave up on trying to create a romantic atmosphere

He just turns to you deflated and admits that he was planning on confessing

And when you noticed his demeanor you had asked how long he’d been planning to, thus him explaining the embarrassingly long amount of time he put into his plan

He was so embarrassed and his face showed just that

All you could really do was laugh at his expression and find it endearing

Of course you two end up together after that and Grover, despite his previous sulking, was a very happy saytr

Now onto the actual hcs

Grover is so romantic 😭🫶

He’s constantly getting you things that are mostly little trinkets

He’d even offer to play you a song despite his obvious embarrassment

He always goes out to show you things and show you pretty rocks or anything really

It’s so endearing and once you let him know this thought-

Grover’s being practically evaporates from the earth

He’s slow to be more affectionate but his overall demeanor and shy smile on his face shows he’s more than welcoming to it

He loves to hug 😭

I mean he’s slow to and a bit shy but he loves to

Like seriously

He’s always smiling when hugging you and it’s his favorite thing

You’re practically glued together at this point

He isn’t too big on kissing kissing but he loves to kiss your cheeks

Especially if they’re chubbier then he likes showing affection that way

He’s honestly the best

Especially with how often he gifts you stuff and always wanting to go on little dates

Of course he takes into consideration what sort of things you like but his ass does NOT have real money 💀

So it’s sorta a plot hole but u still love his dirt poor ass

#gn reader #male reader #fanfic #female reader #fluff #fanfic fluff #fluff headcanons #pjo x reader #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjoverse #grover underwood #grover pjo #grover x reader

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sundayworshipper · 3 months

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*~Orthodoxia

«Sunday x Gn! Reader»

🪦| SFW, Angst, Undefined relationship, can be read as romantic/platonic (bed sharing, cuddling)| WC: ~11K

⚰️| CW: Inspired by the song Orthodoxia by Guchiry, misplaced religious worship (fictional religion), Sunday is a priest and cult leader, Small town cult setting AU, Third person prose (reader is referred to as [Name]), Major character death, Minor character death, Murder, SH? (Sunday), Allusion to suicide, Graphic descriptions of violence, Non sexual grooming, A bird dies, Ena=God, Gopher sucks ASS, mostly Sunday angst with reader being there sometimes, English isn’t my first language, non chronological, first fic ever （╹◡╹）

Credit for the commandments to Guchiry

A/N: This is so long 💀.. There’s a few plot holes? and the writing is kinda repetitive but i spent too long on this not to post. Extra warnings, beta read but not proofread, reader char is intentionally bland, not canon compliant/OOC-ish ∩^ω^∩.

EDIT: Oh god this got much more attention than I was expecting. I am (slowly) working on rewriting it 🤍

1. God’s great grace is given to those who are completely faithful.

Sunday inhaled deeply while tugging at his pristine white glove in an attempt of straightening it. In his mind, he looked like a complete mess, completely unfit for a High Priest. His Master and founder of the One True Religion, Gopher Wood, had recently taken his last breath, finally succumbing to the horrible illness that had tormented him for years. As his adopted son, the gray-haired halovian was to take on his duties post-haste. The young man only took half a day to compose himself enough to make a public statement. He probably would have taken longer, had he actually cared to pretend to grieve.

Upon deciding he was satisfied with the state of his attire, Sunday stepped out of the sascrity, taking his place at the pulpit. The gazes of all of his Master’s- no, his own followers, locked onto him, confused and impatient to hear the reason for Mr. Wood’s absence at yesterday’s service.

The man smiled, hoping that the way it didn’t reach his eyes wasn’t very obvious. After a few moments, he just decided to close them.

The fear of rejection by his followers felt as if it was rapidly piercing holes trough his insides, however, he knew that THEY wouldn’t fail him when he needed THEM most. After all, the first ever thing taught to those interested in the religion, is that good things come to those who believe.

2. Only the high priest is permitted to take God's name in vain.

“Fuck! God fucking damn it!” An unfamiliar voice screamed from an alleyway, which Sunday was just about to pass while on his routine walk. His wings twitched, and the ones on his torso tensed. He contemplated if this even counted as a violation of the second commandment, as the use of the words ‘God’ and ‘Lord’ had less restrictions than the uttering of the true name of the one they were referring to. He also thought about the possibility that ‘God’ was the three-faced idol the next town over worshipped, that maybe one of them had snuck in. He ultimately decided that using any heavenly title accompanied by such words was disrespectful, and he’d try to steer the speaker onto the right path, be they a follower of Order, Harmony, or something else entirely.

Despite the amount of information he mulled over, he really didn’t spend long thinking before rushing into the alley.

“Are you alright?” He inquired to the person that had emitted such obscene words just moments ago. Their clothes didn’t reflect those of a citizen in this town, nor the neighboring one’s. They whipped around to face him, wearing a frightened expression.

“Ah..Huh?” The emotion of surprise seemed to overshadow that of fear. Sunday gave an amused smile at this.

“Do not be afraid. I am Sunday, messenger of Ena. I heard you…Cussing, earlier. Judging by your attire, you are a foreigner, which explains that. However, I feel as if I should inform you that such an act is quite worrisome here.” He could no longer suppress his giggle, which confused the stranger.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm..Do not worry. Mind telling me how to address you? And, if you’re comfortable, what brings you here?” Sunday stepped closer, and leaned in towards the person.

“I’m [Name].” They replied, taking a step back. After spending a moment deciding whether or not to reveal the circumstances that led up to them ending up where they did, they concluded that he was trustworthy.

Sunday listened, and considered their words carefully.

“I see. Since you have no home, would you like to live with me, for the time being? I’ll help you find a job. All I ask is that you attend church and clean up after yourself.” He offered his hand, wings relaxing.

[Name]’s breath hitched. It wasn’t like they had many choices… If they stayed on the streets, they’d most certainly die. If they went with Sunday, the outcome had a slightly lesser chance of being the same.

After thinking very carefully, they took Sunday’s hand wordlessly.

3. Those who do harm to God's messenger, the high priest, will be expelled.

As much as Sunday wished he could forget the worshippers of Xipe existed, trade between the two towns was beneficial for everyone. After the death of Gopher Wood- who refused any sort of contact and terminated the transaction of goods-, Sunday begrudgingly sent one of his trustworthy followers to request that the old commerce deal be reinstated. And so, it was.

To the average citizen, all seemed well. However, Sunday could notice the way everyone that interacted with Xipe’s Worshippers on a regular basis attended church less and less often. He tried to brush it off as them being busy with such an important new task. This was until, on the seventh day’s service, the holiest of all, one of the traders defied the rules and interrupted Sunday’s sermon by standing directly next to him. The halovian’s heart skipped a beat, but he simply smiled.

“Good sir, are you not feeling well? This is not an appropriate place for you.” He placed a gentle hand on the trader’s shoulder. His kind act was met with a harsh slap which resounded through the entire chamber. However, his smile did not falter.

[Name], who had been sitting in the front row of pews ever since Sunday ‘rescued’ them, stood up, as did the woman next to them. They wanted to separate the two, but the priest extended a hand towards them as a sign to stop.

The atmosphere was painfully tense and uncertain, until the merchant reached into his pocket to retrieve his dagger. He then pressed it to Sunday’s throat, finally causing his expression to shift.

“You bastard… You rotten, filthy, deceptive scoundrel! You lied! All you and your good-for-nothing father have ever done is lie! You will pay for this.” The trader hissed, preparing to slice the man’s flesh. Sunday’s eyes narrowed as he effortlessly ripped the knife from his hands by the blade, cutting deep into his own palm. He then tossed it to the side, and grabbed the traitor by the neck.

“Tsk..What a shame. You were quite valuable.” He shook his head disappointedly before dragging him outside.

No one dared to follow… Except for [Name]. Before anyone could tell them not to, they sprinted after Sunday, finding him kicking his attacker in the stomach repeatedly just outside church doors. [Name] gasped, but they were cut off by the disgusting feeling of bile rising up their throat. This caused Sunday to turn his head. His eyes were wide, however, a disturbingly sweet smile stretched across his features. He delivered one final kick- to the chest this time- and quickly closed most of the distance between him and [Name].

“You shouldn’t have followed me. But, I suppose it’s my fault for not teaching you what to do in such situations.. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

[Name]’s eyes darted between the priest and the corpse he had just created. They soon murmured the first thought they could muster:

“Your hand..”

“I will be fine. Go back inside, and stay put. Service will resume shortly.” He smiled before promptly walking out of sight.

[Name] considered running for their life as far away from this town as geography would allow. However, something was holding them back. After taking a minute to process, they re-entered the church, earning dirty looks from the other members. Only the woman that had stood up alongside them earlier spoke to them.

“Don’t do that. No one wants to see what happens to those who get ‘expelled’.”

4. It is the high priest who is the rightful successor to God’s will.

Despite it not feeling like such, Sunday was once a child. He had a family as well, more or less. Although thinking of Gopher Wood as his parent made him feel sick to his stomach now, a brief period of time where this wasn’t the case existed.

After the traumatic loss of their parents, Sunday and his dear sister, Robin, were sent to an orphanage much like any other unfortunate soul in the same situation. Robin thought they’d be adopted within the year, but Sunday was already planning the way in which he’d make a living for himself the moment he became an adult. He’d save up any and all money he didn’t use strictly on survival to be able to sustain his sister when she reached the age of eighteen as well, he thought.

In a surprising turn of events, a man from a small, far away town, visited the orphanage only three months after the siblings’ arrival. He smiled the instant his gaze landed on them. Originally, Sunday thought it was because of their shared, relatively uncommon species, but he’d later come to convince himself that Gopher Wood saw something in them that day.

In what had to be record time, he had legally adopted them. As they rode the horse carriage to their new home, Robin snuggled close to her brother, and whispered an optimistic ‘I told you so’. Sunday simply smiled, for the first time since the death of their mother.

The first day felt like the most fun a recently orphaned child could have. They were given various sweet treats by their new neighbors, and a tour of the town. Everyone seemed to dote on them, which almost made the young boy finally lower his guard fully. He thought he was safe at last, and could heal.

Big mistake.

That very night, Sunday was ripped from bed by his eerily silent ‘father’. Before he could even ask what he was doing, a hand had been slapped over his mouth. He, being docile and untrained at the time, allowed himself to be molded like clay.

In less than an hour, Sunday had been exposed to things that would shatter the mind of most children into pieces. At the end of his extensive explanation, Gopher took Sunday to the dark, empty church, where he forced him to kneel in front of the altar. Because he hadn’t succumbed to the information that he had to forcibly ingest, Gopher considered him a worthy heir, and introduced him to Ena as such.

And yet, that was not the point where he stopped seeing that man as family. In fact, he never saw anything wrong with that behavior. He always felt so proud to be chosen, entrusted with such an important position.. Gopher said he was special. Smart. Nearly perfect. He was everything he could’ve ever wanted in a son. The knowing glances they exchanged as Robin discovered the surface rules of the religion at the pace that everyone else except for him did made Sunday feel good.

For about a year, Sunday loved his life. He felt as if he finally had a purpose..

On the night of a seventh,going into first day of the week, in the latter half of November, Sunday found himself choking back tears on the bathroom floor, knees hugged tightly to his chest along with his discarded shirt. Gopher Wood, that monster, sat behind him, trimming away at the child’s lower wings. When he was done, he’d move on to permanently tainting them black, like his own.

‘The truest act of devotion’ he called it. To prove their loyalty to Ena, high priests had to discard something they held dear at a young age.. For halovians, their wings were naturally their pride and joy, so, the dark haired man picked those for him. Sunday asked to be allowed to choose something, anything else, but his request was declined.

Of course, this wasn’t any form of religious practice. Gopher had made it up to further mold his poor victim into what he needed him to be. Every time the boy dared to show any feelings regarding that action, he reminded him that as the high priest, all his actions were carried out trough God’s will.

Sunday never wore a base layer of clothing that didn’t almost perfectly match his new wing color after that. He felt hideous, and he’d rather have people think he lost his wings completely than show off the cruel defilement he’d endured.

Since then, Sunday could no longer see him as a father. Of course, he still respected and obeyed him, as not doing so would be disrespectful to THEM, too. After all, priests were naught but a mirror of their God’s desires.

5. God’s teachings are the divine providence of this world.

Sunday tossed in bed, wings wrapping around his face as he groaned quietly. He was tormented by thought, and couldn’t sleep.

Upon the passage of one hour, he rose from his spot, and slowly stepped out of his room. [Name] slumbered on his couch, as they had since the first time Sunday brought them home. He felt bad for not being able to provide them a proper bed, and made a mental note to work on that soon. After all, it wasn’t like it cost much, or… anything at all. He was just a very busy man.

The priest then stepped on the single creaky floorboard in the entire house, alerting his roommate.

“Sunday..?” They yawned, rubbing their eyes as they blinked them open.

“Ah. I’m sorry that I woke you.”

“It’s alright,, but what are you doing up so late? And why are you going out?”

“Mm. I need a walk, to clear my head. I’m finding it hard to rest well tonight.”

“Me too. I barely even fell asleep a few minutes ago, and it was so light.” [Name] stretched their back as they spoke.

“I see. Do you want to join me?” He offered, and the other person excitedly accepted, standing up and almost stumbling. Sunday caught them, helping them to stand better. They gave a grateful look in response.

The two then exited the house, the cold night breeze gently biting at their skin. They set a comfortable pace as Sunday directed them to the woods across the river that served as town border. [Name] hadn’t gotten the chance to go there yet, as it was ill-advised to venture too far from the town.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m going to murder you for your sins?” Sunday smiled, turning his face away so [Name] couldn’t see.

“I do! It’s just that… Wait, have I sinned?”

“Of course you have. You are still new to our religion, you’re bound to make mistakes. Even devout believers sin sometimes, but God forgives all, therefore so do I.”

“Do you sin?”

“Me? No. Sinning would be disgraceful to our Lord. I mean, if even the high priest doesn’t carry himself as THEY intended, how would any normal person be inclined to either?”

“True.. Doesn’t it get exhausting having to be perfect all the time, though?”

“Not at all. Do you know the fifth commandment?”

“God’s teachings are the divine providence of this world?” [Name] cocked their head at him, almost tripping on a fallen branch in the process.

“Very good. As the high priest, I have to know these teachings better than any other mortal. The stronger one’s knowledge, the stronger they feel God’s love.”

“Oh. I never thought about it like that.”

“Well, now you have.” He halted, left arm occupying its spot behind his back as usual. [Name] stopped as well, confused.

“Why’d you stop? Aren’t walks supposed to be continuous?”

“Yes…Would you mind pausing here for a moment? If I’m not mistaken, this is the clearing I used to come to for respite when I was a child. I have no time for such things anymore, but it brings me a sense of nostalgia.”

[Name] nodded, and awkwardly walked closer to Sunday. There didn’t appear to be any sitting spots, so they just took a moment to appreciate nature’s beauty.

Not much time later, Sunday decided it had gotten far too late to be outside any longer. As they trekked back home, the priest noticed [Name] become slower by the second. He offered to carry them, and in a moment of exhausted weakness, they accepted. They’d soon fall unconscious in his arms.

The following morning, [Name]’d find themselves in Sunday’s bed, with him nowhere to be found.

Confused, they stepped into the living room. Sure enough, the man was curled up on the couch.

6. To disobey God is to deviate from Paradise.

[Name] was integrating nicely into the town already. While trying to decide what job they should try land, they picked up gardening as a short pastime. Sunday had graciously lent them a patch of his backyard to plant things in, so long as they managed to keep it free of weeds. They agreed, and were doing a great job so far. The first thing they tried was strawberries, as it was the optimal season for planting them.

[Name] decided to ask the neighbors to see if anyone had any runners they could borrow.

“Hello!” They waved at an older lady who was conveniently planting something in her own garden. She lifted her head, smiled, and waved back.

“…Ahem. I was wondering if you had any strawberry runners? I want to grow strawberries… I don’t have any money right now, but I’ll pay you for them someday!”

“Ah, such nonsense.. Since Mr. Wood saved us, money is obsolete.”

“Huh? Then why do people still have jobs?”

“So they don’t get bored, of course! If you’re worried about payment, pay with a favor. Give some to Mr. Sunday when they’re ripe. I’m sure he hasn’t had strawberries since Miss Robin… Ah, nevermind, I’ll fetch ‘em for you.” The lady hobbled into her house, leaving [Name] confused. They made a mental note to ask Sunday about this ‘Robin’ someday.

The woman soon returned, and handed the runners to [Name], eagerly.

“Here you go, dearie. Give some to me too, if I’m still around by then…” she chuckled, trailing off into a cough.

“Don’t say that.. But, I will! Thanks so much!” They waved again, and sped off to plant the strawberries.

About three months later, the fruits were ripe. [Name] was utterly delighted… They looked absolutely perfect, as if it was obvious from a glance that they had the perfect texture and amount of juice. They quickly collected them all in a basket, and ran inside, where Sunday was actually home, for once. [Name] was happy about this, and hurried to separate the basket’s contents into bowls. The priest tilted his head at them, curious.

“I see you’ve made good use of the land I gave to you.” He hummed observantly.

“Mhm! I couldn’t have done it without the grandma across the street, though. I have to give her a portion back, but.. She asked for something else as payment.”

“Oh?”

[Name] handed Sunday a full bowl, happily.

“She wanted me to give this to you! She said you probably haven’t eaten any since some Robin something something..”

Sunday froze, and his breathing paused abruptly.

“Who’s Robin anyway? It sounds like you know her…”

“Robin is a sinner who denied our Lord’s presence in her life. She is where she deserves to be right now.” His voice had a weird edge, almost as if it was breaking.

“She’s not someone you should concern yourself with again. Ahem; thank you for the gift. It was very thoughtful of you. Send my regards to the neighbor, too.” He left, strawberry bowl in hand.

[Name] frowned, dejectedly dragging themselves and one of the remaining strawberry bowls to the neighbor’s house. She was in the yard once again, so they just walked up to her.

“Ma’am! I picked the strawberries today!” They handed her the dish.

“Thank you, dear. You gave them to Mr. Sunday too, yes?”

“Of course. He said to give you his regards. But, something weird happened. When I asked him about Robin, he just said she was a sinner. That wasn’t much of an answer, so could you tell me more, please?”

“Really? Hm. I wouldn’t expect him to be that cold towards the memory of his own sister…”

“…What?”

“I’ve said too much. Please leave.”

[Name] frowned, but did as asked. It was taking them some time to accept the fact that there were certain topics everyone seemed to get tense around..

7. To harbor doubts about God is to suffer the disintegration of thought.

Gopher Wood always despised the neighboring town, in which he was born, raised, and first established his religion. He hated not having control over every single atom there, so, he left. However, he wasn’t always completely unwilling to maintain a cordial relationship with them.

When his daughter, Robin, reached the age of twelve, he assigned her the role of ‘peacekeeper’. She was to befriend politicians and people of note, engage in the culture there. and report any intel she could’ve gained back to Gopher, who would then try to usurp the town and convert its residents to worshippers of Ena, ergo himself, by commandment fourteen.

By her 13th birthday, Robin’s reports suspiciously all turned into ‘They didn’t tell me anything’. The high priest soon grew skeptical, and ordered Sunday to get an answer out of her by any means necessary.

And so, he did.

He approached her door, taking note of the unfamiliar tune she appeared to be loudly humming. Due to growing older, they now had separate rooms. This didn’t help their relationship whatsoever, as their paths in life were already pulling them apart.

“Sister?” He knocked.

“Come in!” She called out, ceasing her singing. Sunday did, avoiding her gaze.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Sit down.” She gestured to the empty spot on her bed, next to herself. Sunday shook his head, which felt like a dagger being pierced trough robin’s heart.

“Oh. Okay… What did you want to talk about?”

“Master ranted to me earlier about the lack of new information regarding the neighboring town lately. I found this weird, so I just wanted to ask you about it. Please be honest with me, are you hiding something?”

Robin’s eyes widened, before drifting downward. She dipped her head in a slight nod.

“Brother… I’m sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but I feared your response. I..” she inhaled, then exhaled. “…I worship the Harmony.”

Sunday stared at her with the most disgust his face had ever held. He began to slowly shake his head.

Robin stood, paced over to him, and grabbed his hand, holding it close to her chest.

“Please, just listen to me. I discovered something that will change your view on-“ She trailed off as she met his gaze. It was evident that there was no possible way to reason with him. At that moment, it didn’t feel like she was even looking at her sibling; but rather, at the man that destroyed him.

Defeated, she let go of his hand, and sat back on her mattress. As she watched her beloved brother leave her room, she accepted that her days were now numbered.

8. To blaspheme God is to deny one's own existence.

Robin wore a gentle smile as she was walked down the path to a completely empty plain by her brother. The girl was dressed in pitch black robes, a symbol of her betrayal and a way to make her death far more painful. And yet, she didn’t seem all that bothered.

“Sunday..” she hummed.

“You’re not supposed to speak.”

“I’ll be dead soon either way. What’s one more sin?”

“…”

“I love you. Please don’t blame yourself, I forgive you.”

Sunday didn’t reply to this, and pushed her towards her final resting place.

“Press your back to the stake, please.”

Robin obliged, placing her hands behind the wooden pole as well, without even having to be told. Sunday, under the watchful gaze of Gopher Wood, tied them together, then her torso to the stake.

A citizen then dumped the wood Gopher had hand picked the day prior as the fire fuel to Robin’s feet, before backing up. As per the high priest’s request, Sunday was to light it.

The heir felt nothingness rip and tear away at his being. As his Master placed a flaming torch in his hand, Sunday thought about all the things he wanted to do right now. He wanted to cry, but that would be ‘disgraceful’. He wanted to grab his sister and run, far away from here, and start a new life together, but they were just children, with a horde of angry, violent adults behind them. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream in despair, but the raven-like man behind him would definitely punish him severely for that. As his legs trembled, threatening to give out, Sunday wondered what the worst consequence could even be. Upon remembering the ruined state his wings were in and that he had another pair in an incredibly visible location, he took several deep breaths to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry.” He mouthed, before pressing the torch’s tip to the firewood.

9. God sees, but THEY never save.

Sunday inhaled deeply, eyes shut. The winter air numbed his lungs, allowing the cold to overwhelm his body. He felt no pain, or any physical sensation at all. He simply felt like pure consciousness.

“Brother!” The worried voice of his sister called out to him. Alarmed, he exhaled, and ended his meditative state.

“What is it?” He questioned, tone unusually flat.

Robin held her hands out to him. They contained a baby dove. It was barely even covered in pin feathers, meaning it couldn’t have been more than seven days old.

“I was walking to Mr. Gary’s farm because I promised to help feed his animals, but i found this hatchling crying by a tree… I can’t find its nest, or parents, b-but it’ll freeze to death if we don’t do something!” She sobbed. Sunday examined the tiny avian closely.

“Yes…I do suppose the best course of action would be to raise it ourselves.” He crossed his arms.

“Why do you sound so hesitant..?”

Sunday was worried about what his Master would do upon discovering the animal. He wondered if its wings would be clipped, like his own were. The boy pressed a hand to his mouth in thought, eventually settling on the conclusion that there would be no reason to commit such act, as it was only done to himself so he could prove his worth to Ena.

“Fine. Give it to me.” He demanded, and the girl obliged.

The siblings rushed back home, where Robin filled a shallow bowl with warm water. Sunday placed the chick in it, but held on, just in case. It let out chirps of increasing volume, which the boy found endearing. He soon let go, stroking under the bird’s chin instead. Robin gasped, and leaned in closer to observe this. Her brother interacting with animals was a truly beautiful sight.

“How long will it take until it’s grown? I can’t wait to teach it how to fly!” She smiled widely, blinking up at Sunday.

“Huh? Why would we do that..?” He raised an eyebrow.

“So we can release it?” Robin now looked confused.

“What? You can’t be serious. What even is the point of saving it now if you just want to send it to die later?” He pulled the bowl closer to himself, protectively.

“It won’t die! It’d just be cruel to keep it inside for the rest of its life!” She argued, straightening her posture.

“It will.”

“No, it won’t!” The girl gripped the edge of the table. Sunday pinched the bridge of his nose, and turned his back to her.

“Fine. If you insist, you’re now responsible for its well-being until the end of the next week, when you must release it into the wild.”

“Fine.” Robin huffed, and pulled the bird and its makeshift bath back towards herself.

Seven more days passed, in which the dove grew out all the needed feathers for flight. Robin was absolutely ecstatic, and dragged Sunday outside.

“Okay..How do we do this?” She asked.

“What, you made a decision that could be the difference between life and death for another living being without any research?”

“Well, when you put it like that-“

“Do you admit defeat?”

“No! I know it’ll survive! Just tell me how to help it fly.”

Sunday simply shrugged, which upset Robin. After some contemplation, she placed the dove down on the ground, and held her breath waiting.

The bird soon spread its wings, and departed from the ground. The young girl squealed happily, and watched with wide eyes. She then turned, grinning triumphantly at her brother. It was then that she noticed the tall, dark figure looming right behind him.

“Master? What brings you here?”

Gopher Wood simply smiled eerily, and Sunday grimaced, eyes fixed on the now flying dove. A chill of deep dread struck Robin’s spine, making her turn again… Just in time to see the razor sharp talons of a raven dig into the body of the smaller bird. Right as its beak was about to rip flesh off, the girl ran into the house, sobbing loudly.

Sunday and Gopher kept watching. The scene was horrible, gory and disheartening, to say the least.

After a period of silence, the boy spoke up.

“That was a trained raven.”

“What a keen eye.”

“…Why? Robin didn’t have to see that. She’s just a child.”

“I disagree. It was her choice to free the dove, wasn’t it? She has to learn that her actions have consequences, and that defying the concept of order won’t get her anywhere.”

Sunday wordlessly nodded, before walking off.

On the way to the clearing he’d claimed as solely his- which he only turned to when he was having ‘sinful’ ideas that he felt too scared to even think about in the confines of the city- he wondered if Ena would really want one of THEIR creations to suffer, just to teach another a valuable lesson. He then considered that THEY might not truly even care about anyone and anything at all. If he could see and intervene in anything happening in the world, Sunday would try to save every being. But, in the end, he was not God, and THEY were.

10. God listens, but THEY never speak.

“Father..” a weak voice on the other side of the confessional threatened to break. Sunday straightened his posture, as he instinctively always did when spoken to, even if he couldn’t be seen.

“Speak your sorrows, child of the Order.”

“I can’t take it any longer. It feels… It feels like my prayers are falling on deaf ears. My life has only been spiraling into misery… Hell, even a sign would help loads!”

Sunday closed his eyes, thinking deeply.

“I understand how you must feel. However, you should know THEY don’t often give ‘signs’. You may share your troubles with me, and I promise to try my hardest to help you.”

“You’d really do that?”

“I would.” He nodded. He’d trained himself to be aware of his body language and what every single difference in stance could be interpreted as. So, he applied that even when alone, hidden, or in an otherwise casual situation.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you… May I ask a question first?”

“Hm?”

“Do THEY give you signs? Speak to you? Anything at all?”

The halovian fell silent. He didn’t know. Ever since he’d taken over Gopher Wood’s duties, he felt like a failure for being ‘spiritually disconnected’ from the Lord.

“The answer is what you think.” Was what he settled on.

The person on the other side sighed. The next time they spoke, their voice sounded muffled.

“I’m a murderer. I don’t deserve to live. Do you think THEY would forgive me if I..”

“Don’t say that. You are stronger than you think. Why do you consider yourself a murderer?”

“I had an argument with my little sister. It was over something so stupid, I don’t even remember what it was. I was so angry that I pushed her. She hit her head on the kitchen counter, and… oh god. There was so much blood. I saw her brains, Father. I will never forget the sight. I see it every time I sleep, every time I close my eyes, every time I see things that remind me of her. Please, how do I make it stop?” They sobbed.

Sunday was silent, eyes unfocusing as the vivid memory of Robin’s body being charred alive by flames tore its way out of the corner of his brain he’d banished it to.

“Father?”

“…Apologies. That is a lot to process, I was thinking of the optimal way to help. How long ago did this accident happen?”

“I don’t know. It could be anywhere from a few days to several months. After I buried her, everything’s been a blur. She was everything I had left… i hate to think that if I treated her nicer, showed her how much I appreciate her; if I tried to understand her better and didn’t let my emotions get the better of me, she’d still be here.”

“Yes.. You said you buried her body?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“…”

“I see. You don’t have to tell me. I can feel that you are genuinely remorseful. Fear not, the Lord will forgive you, and I’m sure your sister would too. As for the mental scarring, I can only hope that your confession has lifted some weight off your shoulders. You are not alone. If you ever feel as if you need to take drastic measures, I hereby permit you to seek me in my free time. Your life matters, and I’d rather a slight inconvenience to myself than lose another life. It gets easier, I promise. Hardship is the key to happiness.” Although he was saying all this, he barely even believed or understood himself. He’d never had anyone comfort him when he was in a similar situation, nevermind attempt to help him. When he tried to turn to Ena for solace, he was only met with silence… Which was to be expected. However, the toll it took on him was greater than he could’ve ever expected. In any case, he hoped he’d helped the member of his community, even slightly.

The sound of the fabric belonging to the other person’s clothes could be heard- presumably them standing up. It was then followed by footsteps. Sunday groaned loudly once he figured they’d have long exited the church, and placed his face in his hands. This was going to be a long day.

Upon returning home way past midnight, Sunday looked uncharacteristically horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his wings drooped pathetically as he slouched, including his ‘deformed’ second pair, which usually stayed tucked into his coat.

“Sunday!” [Name] ran to the door as soon as it opened. As they bore witness to the state of the halovian, they fell into baffled silence. He blinked blearily, far too tired to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. Go to sleep.” He mumbled, trying to push past them and towards the couch, as the two had traded sleeping utilities after their late-night walk.

“No! Are you okay?”

“Excuse me?”

“You look horrendous. I’m worried.”

“Thanks.” He deadpanned.

“I obviously didn’t mean it that way. It’s just not like you to be so… improper. Woah, wait, you have four wings!?”

“I don’t want to talk about either of those things. Please move, I’d really like to sleep.”

[Name] frowned, and instead of letting Sunday go to sleep on the near back-breaking couch when he was clearly in no condition to, they intertwined their hand with his, pulling him towards the bedroom. Before Sunday had the chance to protest, they’d reached their destination.

“What are you doing?”

“What, you said you wanted to sleep.”

“Are you implying you want to… share a bed?”

“Yeah! That’s not sinful, right?”

“I suppose not.” Sunday gave up.

“Great. I’ll let you change, call me back in when you’re done.”

Sunday didn’t know what had happened to him by the beginning of the next hour. He found himself cuddling his housemate, face buried in their chest as their fingers carded through his hair. If he wasn’t so far gone, he would’ve felt shame to the depths of his bones.

As [Name]’s breathing and heart rate slowed steadily, so did their hand. Sunday smiled, slowly shifting their position until they’d fully swapped roles. While he appreciated being on the receiving end of affection for once, it was just his nature to want to return any kind act done for him.

He draped a wing around their body, figuring he’d finally found a use for the unsightly body part.

11. God knows, but THEY never teach.

Sunday’s hands balled into fists at his sides. He’d been staring at the glass casing containing the stone slate which the commandments had been first carved into for what must’ve been many hours now. He read them over, and over, and over, and over… Despite the fact that his mind was already similar to the slate, in the sense that the words had been permanently etched into both. Every day, he could feel himself growing more and more…Hateful. And so, he decided connecting with the Lord again would be the best course of action.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. As he obsessively examined and carefully thought over every word of the sacred obligations, he could only form more and more questions… More anger. More doubt. The contradictions between several entries now seemed painfully obvious. For example, it was specified that the high priest was the exception to commandment two, but no such thing exists for the numbers nine, ten and eleven… But, communication between God and the high priest was supposed to be the basis of the religion.

As the gears in Sunday’s brain turned, he began to laugh. How could he have been so foolish? These were all just lies. Lies made up by a selfish man who desired nothing more than to rule the whole world by himself. As his laughter grew, so did his fury.

Sunday dug his fingers into the side of the glass; fragile, as all things in this forsaken town. If everyone was under the permanent illusion of safety, why was there any need for precaution? It was so bad, that nobody locked their doors anymore. No one would want to break into your house and kill you, after all. The most likely murderer was the person you trusted enough to live with. As these realizations plagued his mind, Sunday’s hands only gripped the long since shattered shards of glass tighter, and tighter. It hurt so pleasantly right now. Although, soon enough, he dropped them in favor of grasping the stone tablet itself. As he turned around, his eyes darted through the church. He needed something to break it with.

After looking for a considerable amount of time, Sunday decided he’d just fling it at the wall.

As the glorified boulder was about to leave his hand, he hesitated. What if he was wrong? This definitely had to be a misunderstanding. Maybe he just wasn’t open minded enough to understand the deeper meaning of the commandments. After all, every older resident seemed so happy living the way they were. The younger generation- including himself- would grow into doing the same, surely… God is good, Sunday thought.

God is loving.

The priest lowered his hand slowly. He rotated back to his original position, regret filling him at the sight of the broken display and bloodied glass scattered across the floor. If he were to look into his hand, he’d notice the crimson seeping from his open wound was quickly transferring to the commandments.

Sunday closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He just had to clean this up, find a replacement case, and no one would ever know. His sin could stay between him and the Lord, forever.

As for understanding all the contradictions, he was now sure that he just had to try a little harder. After all, God doesn’t teach. For a start, this probably meant THEY wanted THEIR subjects to learn from their and others’ mistakes throughout their life.

Yes, this had to be the solution. This was nothing but another trial for Sunday to overcome; a test of faith.

12. The entire Word of God is passed down through THEIR oracle, the high priest.

In an extremely rare occurrence, Sunday had found himself with a few hours of free time on his hands. He decided to spend one of them browsing the local grocery store, deciding on what snack to purchase for [Name], as a token of appreciation. He hadn’t asked them about their tastes outright, so he was attempting to piece them together from the few, yet valuable conversations they’d had. This was proving to be a more challenging task than expected, but he wasn’t about to give up.

“I believe this is what you’re looking for.” A voice coming from Sunday’s right spoke sweetly. He turned his head, confused. Before him stood a person, with an appearance so strikingly out of place that he managed how they even managed to make it into the city. They had white hair, parted into short twin tails on either side of their head. They also had long curtain bangs, however, the upper part of their hairstyle didn’t even utilize as much as half of their locks. The expanse of white fell down to the floor, dragging along it whenever they moved. They wore simple, yet eye grabbing make up, which nicely complemented their tanned skin. Their eyes appeared to naturally stay shut for the entirety of Sunday’s examination of them, not displaying any of the twitching that the eyes of a normal person forcing them to stay closed would. What was really out of place, though, was their clothing. They wore a tight, black dress which was about as long as their hair. It was rather revealing, especially in the chest and leg area. Whilst the town Sunday lived in didn’t exactly enforce ‘purity culture’ anymore, it was still unusual to dress immodestly. Additionally, the sort of corset piece wrapped around their midriff and neck appeared to be real gold, solidifying their status as an outsider. The followers of Order weren’t exactly wealthy, as money had not been used since the founding of the religion, and Gopher Wood considered the concept to be inherently unfair. Of course, this didn’t stop him from continuing to hoard any currency he came across, to be able to afford imported garments and accessories of the finest quality for only himself and his children.

“Pardon?” He narrowed his eyes, inspecting the item. It was one of the choices he’d been considering for [Name]’s snack, although he was still second-guessing himself.

“This is their favorite.” The foreigner extended their hand further, as if urging him to take it.

“What are you talking about?” Sunday was becoming uncomfortable.

“[Name]? Your.. Friend. This is their favorite. You are looking for something to get them, no?”

“Hah..I see. You’re one of Xipe’s slaves.” He chuckled bitterly, and grabbed a duplicate of the item they were holding off the shelf.

“I’d strongly urge you to return to your home, if you know what’s best for you. Good day.” He turned to leave, but a hand as cold as death itself gripped his wrist with a hold that would be sure to cut off his circulation if it was kept too long.

“Is this all the thanks I get? You would’ve spent another hour deciding if it weren’t for me.” The person pouted in mock offense.

“Stop. Get out of my mind, please.” He tried to pull away, to no avail.

“And what if I don’t? Are you going to call upon Ena to save you? Oh wait..” They laughed.

“Tsk…Do not use THEIR sacred name with such mocking purpose.”

“I really don’t get what you see in THEM. I mean, THEY’RE such a deadbeat! The Great One would never let THEIR subjects suffer.”

“Says the one whose idol abandoned THEIR town without leaving as much as a divine messenger.”

“Hm? But I am the High Priest.”

“High Priest? My a-.. ahem… That does not sound very likely. Clearly, you’re blessed in some form, but knowing Penacony, they would hold a week-long festival in your honor if you gave substantial proof of this. Who are you, really?”

The person smiled, and let go of his now bruised wrist. They’d still not opened their eyes once.

“Oh, would you look at the time. Well, I should get going. Until we meet again~” they waved, and walked away, humming an awfully familiar tune.

Sunday would then stand in the middle of the aisle, snack in hand as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He wondered if the person was trying to convince him to turn to the Harmony, or just teasing him. What’s worse is that if it was the former, he believed he might’ve actually considered.

The halovian soon dragged himself home, deep in thought. As he opened the door to see [Name] sitting on the couch as they had been doing more often lately, Sunday smiled. He sat next to them, far closer than usual.

“…I got you something.” He handed them the snack. [Name] gasped quietly.

“Ohh.. Did you know this was my favorite? Thank you so much!” They hugged him.

“Really? Must’ve been a lucky guess. In any case, consider this payment for the strawberries.” Sunday shut his eyes. Perhaps the worshipper of Xipe wasn’t all that horrible.

13. God’s aims are the aims of the world

Lately, Sunday had been frequenting the church in the dead of night. Since the meeting with the strange worshipper of Harmony, he’d been questioning his faith more than ever before. A part of him struggled with the same urge to run that he’d felt in Robin’s final moments. However, instead of his fear of angry, violent adults holding him back now, it was the fear of repercussions for becoming one.

He considered himself weak minded. He knew very well what he was getting into before accepting the position of high priest. He knew he’d have to murder and hurt, and yet… He never truly could. A secret Sunday swore he’d take to the grave, was that he never truly punished traitors as God commanded. Even after the incident with the tradesman, the worst he could muster was kicking him into unconsciousness and dropping him off into Penacony’s territory. That very night, he prayed to the God he himself had just betrayed, that the man was taken to a hospital. In his heart, Sunday still believed that if he were to implore the Lord to forgive those who turned away from them, THEY would.

Sunday had what one might call a heart of gold. He wanted the best for everyone, even if it directly contradicted the teachings of his Master, and the undeniable holy rules given to the world by God. However, his constant desire to help came at the cost of his own sanity- fact which he was acutely aware of. He considered it a small price to pay for the joy of others.

In his mind, he was responsible for the actions of each and every one of The Order’s followers. If they sinned, it was purely his fault for not managing to stop them. He’d be the one spending eternity in the burning embers, while any who sinned under him and died before he did, would be forgiven and led to the peaceful afterlife they strived for all their lives. If he’d explain this to any sane person, they’d most likely immediately pick up on how specific, flawed, and barely comprehensible his logic was… Unfortunately, he never would.

“You look tired.” The sickly sweet voice of the strange worshipper called from behind Sunday, making him halt.

“I know for a fact that I locked the gates.” He crossed his arms, but didn’t give the person the pleasure of looking at them.

“What can I say, I have my ways… Anyway, I don’t think burying yourself in your delusions is very healthy. You should rest.”

“I must say, you’re very bold. You simply can’t hold yourself back from insulting the Lord in front of THEIR messenger, hm?”

“I am simply stating a fact. You’re starting to doubt THEIR very existence, and you know that. If you acknowledge your situation, why do you still choose to indulge?”

Sunday did not speak for a long period of time.

“If you truly were a High Priest, you’d understand. God is all I have. I’ve invested so much time into becoming what I am now, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself otherwise.”

“And you still don’t follow the very principle that supposedly founded your religion. Clearly, deep down, what you want is to help everyone. You’d be well suited for the Harmony…”

“No. The harmony dictates that everyone must live through trial and error. That’s such unnecessary suffering, that can simply be avoided by protecting everyone.”

“Learning through mistakes? Isn’t that what you ultimately decided Ena’s ideal was, when you noticed people making mistakes over and over again, even when the whole point of this religion is to establish ultimate control and peace to the point where people will actively seek out pain to break the monotony?”

“…Then, I was mistaken. I never saw the similarities to the Harmony before. I pray THEY can forgive me as I try to truly understand THEIR commandments once more. Thank you for telling me this. I shall… Become a better fit for my role, through any means necessary.”

“Really? Or will you do as you’ve always done, and continue to refuse to harm anyone as your God dictates?”

“…Even if I were to do that, which I will earnestly try not to, the spiritual consequences would fall onto me, solely. I’m the one not doing my job, I-“

“Sunday! When was the last time you’ve uttered or thought something that makes any sense, at all!? Look deeply within yourself, you’ll realize how absurd you’re being.”

The halovian simply smiled. Perhaps, long ago, that would’ve been true. However, that was no longer a possibility. Any time he’d come to the same realization, his being would instinctively suffocate itself with a half-hearted explanation that would seem plausible enough at first glance, until he’d begin to deconstruct it, at which point the process would repeat.

The stranger’s expression shifted into a sorrowful one. They’d really tried to help him, but he was truly too far gone.

“I see. I hope your soul will someday be able to find peace.” They left, giving Sunday the opportunity to continue destroying himself in peace.

14. God and the high priest shall be regarded as one and the same.

Gopher Wood’s amber eyes intently observed Mikhail. His head was informally resting on the table, wings fluttering in anticipation as he waited for his ally to finish reading the documents he’d presented him with.

“So? What do you think?” He finally spoke, having grown impatient.

“I’m not done yet..”

“Well, you’ve read most of it. What do you think so far, then?”

“I didn’t know you had such little patience, Mr. Wood.”

“Yes, yes..Well, now you know.”

“I don’t consider it appropriate to share my opinion on something that I don’t fully understand. I ask that you continue waiting.”

“Fine.” Gopher scoffed, and stood up.

“I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”

“No, thank you.”

Mikhail sighed as he continued reading. Him and Gopher had met just over three amber eras ago, under inexplicable circumstances. At the time, it seemed they had similar ideals for the future of Penacony- a beautiful town, ravaged by an unfortunate dispute. The two quickly struck up a friendship, or at the very least, a cordial working relationship. At first, they agreed that their end goal was to join The Family, a union of towns and cities who worshipped a god known as Xipe and believed in the concept of Harmony. The men slowly gained the respect of most Penaconians that, too,wished for peace, who allowed them to become something akin to a two-person government.

After all that, they successfully completed their goal. Although, soon after, Gopher began acting unusually. He distanced himself from Mikhail, only talking to him to ask odd questions, such as ‘if he ever wished the entire town’s residents could be puppets’. The blue-haired man grew incredibly concerned for his partner’s wellbeing, but could never reach Gopher to speak to him about this topic.

A few days prior, he had invited him out to drinks to discuss ‘an exciting new discovery’. They now found themselves here, Gopher having handed Mikhail a folder full of papers, detailing the proof of the existence of another deity before Xipe. THEY were known by the name of Ena, and represented Order, which was awfully close to the concept of Harmony, besides the awfully concerning attitude towards those who desired to follow their own path in life.

Just as Mikhail finished reading, the halovian returned.

“Are you done yet?”

“Yes…?”

“Wonderful! So?”

“I’m… Not quite sure I understand. Do you want to leave The Family and pursue this religion? Do you even have any current proof this, ‘Ena’ even exists..?”

“Oh, THEY don’t!” He giggled, joyfully taking a sip of his wine. Just as Mikhail was preparing to open his mouth, he continued:

“Not anymore, at least. But if we can make people believe THEY do, we’ll have them wrapped around our fingers. They’ll just do anything we want under the guise of religion. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? There can truly be peace upon Penacony.”

“…How drunk are you?”

“Plenty.”

“You’re not thinking straight. That would never work, it’d just be defying human nature. Besides, if the ones who continue trying to end our lives for opposing them can’t even agree with Harmony, what makes you think they’d want to obey the words of an imaginary God?”

“Oh, them? They have no place in Penacony either way. If I were to execute my plan, I’d be doing a great favor to everyone.” He grinned.

“That’s enough. Get up. I’m taking you home, and you’re going to sleep off all that wine.” Mikhail stood, tossing the documents into the nearest trash.

“I know what I’m doing, my dear Misha. I’ve been fantasizing about this since before we even met… It’s my greatest wish, and what’s the best for Penacony- no, the world, even! Why must you be so cruel~?”

“…You’re not who I thought you were. Why.. Why would you even say that?”

“Mm.. Tell me one thing, then.” He rounded the table, until he was face to face with Mikhail. He then grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him even closer, grinning. “How long do you think a society under the Order’s rule will last? Hell, even with the most haphazard basis I can throw together in one night?”

“Don’t-“

“Answer me.”

“…A decade, at most.”

“Very well.” Gopher hummed, and let go.

“I say… Triple that, before it spreads to Penacony. At least a century after that until the downfall.”

“What are you planning to do..?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re,, a psychopath. This will never work! Even if it somehow lasted for your entire lifetime, you’d never find a successor gullible enough to extend your little cult’s existence for that long.”

Gopher’s smile widened sinisterly.

“Cult? I prefer the word social experiment. Anyway, I should get going now. I heard the next town over has little contact with outsiders, and I’d like to get there before that changes.” He turned, and began to walk.

“Until we meet again, Misha.”

15. God is absolute.

After his second encounter with what seemed to be Xipe’s chosen one, Sunday felt completely drained. He hadn’t fully felt like a living, breathing entity since he was maybe six years old, but the mental haze that affected him worsened with each significant event that happened to him. He stumbled home at the same time that the sun began to peek over the horizon.

Despite the fact that he returned to sleeping on the couch after the night him and [Name] cuddled, he didn’t feel like sleeping alone at this moment.

Following several minutes of hesitation, Sunday opened the bedroom door, cautiously stepping in. Of course, his friend was sleeping peacefully, and luckily for him, deeply. The man stalked over to the closet door, which had been divided into halves to accommodate both his and [Name]’s clothes. He quickly discarded his current outfit, changing into a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. The shirt rode up his stomach slightly, as he hadn’t ever found the time to poke wing holes into his casual garments; therefore, his wings were just hanging naturally.

He slowly sat down on the unoccupied side of the bed, pausing to see if the sleeping person would wake. When they didn’t, he made himself more comfortable, even pulling half of the blanket over himself.

That action caused [Name] to turn. Sunday was preparing an apology speech for waking them, but they were unbothered. They grabbed his arm, snuggling it. The halovian took a moment to process, upper wings tensing in surprise. He was still not used to being touched, but he’d feel too bad pushing them away. So, instead of getting any rest, he just awkwardly stared at them for hours, frozen in place.

Finally, [Name] yawned, attempting to stretch. They were stopped by the sensation of a warm, solid object being held between their arms. When their eyes shot open, they barely stopped themselves from screaming at the sight of Sunday, who looked at them with a tired frown.

“Sorry,, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just feeling unwell, and I thought…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“It’s alright. I’m just, a little surprised. You don’t really seem like the type of guy who’d enjoy this kind of stuff.”

“‘Stuff’…?”

“Yeah. You know, like, closeness.”

“Really? Hm.” He turned his head away, deep in thought.

“I guess you’re right.“ He nearly whispered, pulling his arm away.

The silence that followed was painfully awkward. So much so, that [Name] decided to speak the first thought that came to mind:

“Can I touch your wings?”

“Sorry?”

“I want to touch your wings. They look super fluffy.”

Sunday narrowed his eyes, wondering where they obtained such courage. A halovian’s wings were just about sacred, and most only allowed those closest to them to do as much as stare at them for extensive amount of time. And still…

“You may. But, please be careful. They’re very sensitive, and tear easily.”

“Wait, really? I wasn’t really expecting you to let me..” [Name] was dumbfounded.

“I suppose so. The idea doesn’t make me uncomfortable, as I… Truly appreciate you. It feels like you’re the only person that has seen me as human in an embarrassingly long time. This is the least I can do to express my gratitude.” He leaned in closer, extending the wings on the side closest to [Name]. They didn’t speak, only reaching out to pet the wing sticking out from under his shirt. Sunday was surprised, as he figured they’d first pick the carefully preened, pristine, and intact wing on his head.

“It’s so soft..” they gasped, brushing a finger along the trimmed edge of the appendage. They then moved on to his upper wing, scratching behind it like one would with a cat.

Sunday metaphorically melted, gently collapsing onto [Name]. His eyes closed contently as his roommate continued their exploration of his features.

Unfortunately, their happiness didn’t last long. The distinct sound of wood being axed through snapped both people out of their relaxed state. Sunday jumped out of bed, and out the bedroom door. The sound was coming from the front entrance- which was stupid, as it was unlocked, much like any other door in the town. He crossed his arms, glaring at the widening hole in his door.

Upon completely decimating the wooden structure, a furious mob of followers of the Order barged in, carrying pitchforks and unlit torches. Sunday blinked in disbelief, if only for a couple seconds.

“You liar… Murderous whoreson of a cunt! How could you… How? Do you even realize how many people have lost or wasted their lives on your fuckass cult!? You will pay for this!” A man near the front screamed, spit flying onto Sunday as he did so. He wiped it off his face, giving his subjects a tired smile.

“My children, please. This must all be one great misunderstanding. I urge you to lay your weapons down, and explain to me what crime exactly you think it is that I committed.” He clasped his hands together, eyes closing inoffensively. Once again, his communication attempt was met with a slap.

“Misunderstanding? Hah. Tell that to The Devil! Tie him!” The man ordered, in response to which, the follower of Harmony stepped forward, rope in hand. As they stood parallel to Sunday, they opened their eyes for the first time. The blue outer ring transforming into a deep purple one didn’t look the least bit human, and neither did the grey sclera. If anything, such colors more closely resembled the written description of Ena, if only reversed.

It was then that it clicked.

Sunday began to twitch, in what seemed like the unfortunate moment where the psyche of a tortured man finally shattered. Hell, maybe that was accurate. He soon began to laugh, louder than he ever had before.

As he found himself preoccupied with that, Xipe gave him one last pitiful glance.

“I’m sorry.” THEY mouthed, beginning to bind his arms and wings.

[Name] gripped the edge of the bedroom doorframe. They had been observing for the entirety of the conflict, frozen. Perhaps, if the sea of people didn’t extend well past the confines of the house, they would’ve tried to help Sunday.

“See? He’s gone far past mad- Wait, should we do something about [Name]?” A villager questioned another, causing Sunday to cease his laughter.

“Absolutely. Burn the entire house down, everything he’s touched is tainted.”

“Are you insane? They’re pretty new. What do you think are the chances that they knew?” A third chimed in.

“[Name] didn’t know. It… It was all on me. I’m the one who lied to you. I deceived each and every one of you in pursuit of control. I corrupted the pure intentions of Gopher Wood, and, I ended his life via poison. I am the only culprit.” Sunday tensed, frantically looking around to see how many people believed his faux confession. Of course, only the first sentence was even remotely true. However, if he were to die today, there was no reason to drag the dead and the innocent along with him.

The villagers fell silent, looking between each other in a silent discussion.

“I believe him.” Xipe said, tugging on Sunday’s binds as THEY lead him towards the door, clearing a path through the mob.

The crowd followed, much like a herd of sheep would. This left [Name] alone, and confused.

When the silence became deafening, they hurried to follow. They figured that even if they couldn’t physically be that close to him during whatever was going to happen, then being there at all might make Sunday feel less alone. Even if what he’d confessed was true; which they didn’t fully believe, he did save their life. This was the least they could do for him.

Tears rolled down Sunday’s face, shining golden from the bright sunlight seeping into them. He was awarded the courtesy of choosing when he’d be ended, and he picked sundown. He’d been nailed to a cross, through his hands, wings, and shoulders. The fallen priest was in utter agony, and yet, he was quite alright with this.

Xipe took the same role Sunday had all those years ago; the killer. The villagers were seething, and craved nothing but blood. So, they all collectively decided Sunday was going to be nailed, burnt, and finally shot in the neck. Xipe offered THEMSELVES as executioner. No mortal deserved to have to live with the fact they were the direct cause of another human being’s untimely demise…

As THEIR lit torch approached the kindling, Xipe gazed into Sunday’s eyes once more. They smiled. It was barely visible, yet earnest.

Sunday returned the gesture, inhaling the last breath of fresh air he’d ever take.

[Name] kneeled in front of the charred, bloodied, and decaying corpse of Sunday. They didn’t even think he saw them in his final moments, ergo, they exposed themselves to his disgustingly brutal end for nothing.

They dipped their head, placing the bouquet of wild flowers they’d picked from the clearing which Sunday introduced them to, at his feet.

“Do you want to bury him?”

“…What?” [Name] turned, recognizing the voice as Sunday’s executioner.

“You cared about him. I doubt you want him to publicly rot for..What, a decade?”

“Yeah.”

“Stand. And take the flowers. I’ll carry him.”

And so, they did. In the same clearing the flowers had been picked from, [Name] and Xipe had buried Sunday. They didn’t mark his grave, deciding to finally let him rest.

“So? What will happen now? To everyone in the town, I mean. I don’t know about anyone else, but I have nowhere to go, and a town without a leader is a town without laws. But they’re all so violent…”

“Hm..Penacony has a place for all. Even with their violent tendencies, they can learn and grow.”

“So, why couldn’t Sunday?”

“Despite not knowing what he even believed in, Sunday thought he was nothing without Order. No matter what anyone could ever try, he’d refuse to change. It’s unfortunate, but, he should be allowed to make his own choices.”

“…But that’s so unfair.”

“Being forced into obedience would be equally unfair, no? Sunday died on his own terms.”

“I guess. It’s just, sad.”

[Name] received no reply. They felt as if the other presence had suddenly vanished, but didn’t bother to confirm this.

They laid down next to Sunday’s resting place, closing their eyes. They still struggled to comprehend how their life had taken such a horrible turn so quickly.

It didn’t matter now. [Name] yawned, rolling over onto the side they were most comfortable on. Upon waking, they’d set off to Penacony, where they would find a job and make a living for themselves. But tonight, they just wanted a semblance of a proper farewell to the cozy lifestyle they had grown so accustomed to, and to the man that made it all possible.

#sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #sunday honkai star rail x reader #sunday hsr #sunday hsr x reader #honkai star rail fanfic #sunday fanfic #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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averytirednerd · 8 months

Text

Oh yeah, time for a big rant about Hazbin Hotel!!!

I haven’t really had much of a chance to sit down and write about this since I watched the episodes, so things I say are probably going to reflect what others have said. I’m just writing this to gush about the things I love about some particular songs in HH.

I didn’t have any big expectations going into the first episode, because I’d mostly heard negative reviews of the show so far. I had heard that the songs, however, were bright spots, so I really looked out for the songs and listened in every time we were graced with one. The characters are truly the best versions of themselves whenever there’s a song going on, even if they aren’t the main focus of the song. It’s amazing to see, especially since my favorite thing about this show is the characters themselves.

My favorites are “Loser, Baby” & “Stayed Gone” and will probably be the main focus of this post because <3333

“Stayed Gone” is sung by Christian Borle (Vox) and Amir Talai (Alastor) and I could not be happier about it. Their voices are amazing here, and my favorite bits of this song are on repeat in my head.

I also love little visuals like the mug Vox has in the talk show format, the scrolling text in the news show format, or Vox’s error message toward the end of their bantering.

(The scrolling text says: “I’m totally not worried about this guy and neither should you be. I totally wrecked his sh*t last time he tried me.”)

Alastor really gets under Vox’s skin and it makes me kick my feet every time. Their dynamic truly is everything, and I’m so excited we got this song that showcases it perfectly.

He clearly enjoys it too, what a little jerk.

Speaking of these two, Vox definitely had/has a thing for Al at some point, right? I mean…inviting him to the Vees for a start. Not to mention just the v i b e s. Poor guy though, it’s definitely one-sided.

I love Al’s use of…modern…lingo. Truly a spectacle. That on top of it being a reveal of Al’s rejection to Vox’s offer 💀 I love this man <333

Last thing about this song, promise, but also I love the casual little lore drops and more pieces to the puzzle of the past that we get. Very exciting! Can’t wait to see how everything fits together once we find more pieces.

Okay okay, moving on. “Loser, Baby” is amazing musically as well as visually.

First things first, I LOVE JAZZ OMG AND IT FITS HUSK’S VIBE AND EVERYTHING SO PERFECTLY???

Keith David’s voice definitely fits Husk in my eyes now, I see it, it works. He’s amazing. Does a fantastic job.

Not to mention Blake Roman’s performance was, of course, incredible as well.

The big, upbeat, brassy sound in this song is amazing and I’m loving the trumpet in it especially (any fellow trumpet players? no?)

I love everything about this song. The visuals, voices, instrumentals, lyrics, message, all of it!

Husk slowly going from “yeah you kinda suck lmao, but so do I” in order to not make Angel feel like he’s not being genuine, to sneaking in a better message of “we’re not perfect but it’s okay, don’t be so hard on yourself” (and getting Angel to believe/go along with it too!!) is amazing. It’s a perfect example of these characters being the best versions of themselves during musical numbers.

This song is what solidified Husk as number 2 in my rankings (and I’m sure I’m not the only one). I mean…just look at the way he moves, it’s so silly.

(We’re going to ignore the Videoshop watermarks, okay?)

Overall, I’m loving this show so far despite some obvious issues with pacing n such and an overall rocky start. Especially loving the songs, which I think kinda make the show rn.

If anyone wants to add anything (because I definitely didn’t cover a whole lot, just surface level stuff because even this took a while to type out) then please feel free to! Also ask me any questions you’ve got for me concerning stuff that has/will happen(ed) in Hazbin Hotel. I love HH discourse!

Thanks to those of you who read all the way through, sorry for such a long post lol <3

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bau-drabbles · 2 years

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dancing with your ghost

a/n: enjoy! and apologies if it's ooc for him 💀 it was written in a rush :)

maeve's death affected spencer relationship with you more than realised, he just didn't know the true extent of it until jj points it out

"what are you doing spence? you shouldn't be in here, not like this" jj entered the room, to see him buried in files. his curly hair was tousled, like he'd been running his fingers through it countless times. and judging by the tense lines on his forehead, she guessed it was one of those days. he was distracted, his fists clenched tightly around the folders.

she'd gone to you just moments before, wanting to know what had happened. she could see the pain in your eyes but you didn't want to speak so she didn't force you. and how could you?

the anger practically swallowed you whole, making you see red whenever his name was mentioned. she was your closest confidant in the bau, jj knew spencer was the reason for your pain. and despite you telling her over and over not to confront him, she did so anyway. it had to be done.

however today, the atmosphere was different. spencer was different. so were you.

"she had you, so it's fine. i'll talk to her tomorrow" he hated how selfish he sounded, how cold he was. but those horrible thoughts he tried to keep at bay poisoned his mind, the darkness trickling in through the cracks of his facade.

the fight you both had just hours before killed him more, he needed you. he always did. so why was his feet planted firmly on the ground, refusing to seek you out. why did it feel like there was a knife in his heart, twisting deeper every second he was away from you? why did it feel like his whole world was about to crash down at any given second

he tried to keep himself distracted but all his mind would replay were those haunted pictures of his ex lover. how helpless he was, how completely lifeless her body felt, how he could prevented it all. and it absolutely obliterated him in pieces.

he would wake up in cold sweats, looking to his side where you'd be snoozing away peacefully. and he reminded himself that you were there and safe and sound.

until the next time you wouldn't be.

"come on spencer, doesn't she mean anything to you? don't you love her?" jj's voice was sharp, tired of the eggshells she was walking all around him. she knew she was being unfair but she also knew how it felt to be hurt by him, how it felt to be completely isolated from him.

to her surprise, he whirled around, his lip curled into a sneer. she'd never seen him so agitated before

"love?? how can i trust in love? how could i ever trust in something that could be so present in one moment and so absent the next?" spencer scowled, slamming down the papers he had in his hands.

painting you in a bad light, he thought would make the whole ordeal easier. he could pretend he never loved you but his heart betrayed him. for every beat yearned for you only. every thought that ran through his head was consumed by you. like your soul was in his body, coursing through his veins.

"do you love her?" her voice interjected, coming closer.

"what kind of question is that?" spencer raised a brow to which jj rolled her eyes.

"answer it spencer" she spoke again firmly. he knew there wasn't a way out, she would know if he was lying. he wasn't very good at keeping those for long anyway. he slumped back into his chair, his arms wrapped around him tightly. his sorrow painted so glaringly obvious upon his features, he wondered if he would ever have a happy life.

one where you would be there, one where he didn't need to run from his happiness. one where he didn't need to constantly look back in fear.

perhaps that life simply didn't exist for him

"so much so, it consumes me daily" he whispered the sentence, he never thought he could've ever loved another human so fiercely. so passionately. so much like his old love

"then trust in that. if you can't trust in love, trust in y/n. trust her, trust in her love. go to her and make amends, she needs you as much as you need her, spence. i promise you" jj eagerly spoke, hoping he would spring up and dash out the door. but some things don't happen as they plan.

"these issues are not surface level jj. they run so much more deeper than that. don't you think i want to trust y/n? don't you think i want to give her my all?" the files were on the floor as he stood up, his head in his hands. it felt like to was going to explode with how many thoughts were crammed inside.

"why don't you? take a risk for once in your life spencer"

"i do take risks, calculated ones" he mumbled, his arms wrapped around themselves.

"and what of this?"

"this.... is not calculated. i cannot determine the outcome of it. i'm not in control, my heart is. and i don't think i could bear if it breaks again" finally what jj had been waiting for, the turth finally had revealed itself. but it was more complicated than she realised.

"it's maeve..... isn't it?" jj's voice was softer this time, shocked by his confession. there was no use in hiding it anymore. the dark rings around his eyes, his sunken face, all of it due to the nightmares that kept him awake at all hours of the night. the fear that once he achieved you in his arms, it would be taken just as quickly. he nodded, a sad smile while his eyes began brimming with tears

"i see her every night and every night it ends with her being shot. i could have done something to prevent it, i know i could have. and i'm so scared of that happening to y/n. she's not from our world jj, how could i subject her to a punishment like this?" it feels like he's underwater, his breathing hitched in his throat. his eyes water, biting his lip to stop the trembling. but it wouldn't work, nothing would.

"that wasn't your fault spence, we didn't know she would do that. nobody would" she touched his hand, her baby blues watering at the pain her friend was going through. just when the slightest bit of happiness fell into his lap, it was snatched away before he could've enjoyed it.

"that's just it. i should've known. y/n could enjoy a life where she wouldn't constantly be worried for her life at every turn, she could free. free from the life i could give her, free from me..." the tears dropped like pearls, down his face and onto the desk. with every drop, it cut jj deeper. that she too was helpless in that nothing she could do would remedy his pain and yours.

"spencer..." each cracked word he spoke she felt her heart break further. how you would never know the true extent of his behaviour, how even after all this time, the nightmares continued to plague him. and he didn't tell anybody, not a soul.

"i lost maeve, i can't watch y/n suffer the same fate. she deserves so much more than i could ever give her" his voice is strained, trying his best to keep his composure professional but each thought drove him further and further to insanity

his hands reach out to his wallet where there's a small picture of you. his fingers shakily traced your picture, you were so happy. his mind was trying to engrain the beautiful smile you donned into his mind forever. so that when tomorrow arrived and he'd no longer be there, that thought couldn't hurt him. he'd only remember your smiling face

but it would hurt, of course it would.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x y/n

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rubra-wav · 5 months

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Hi I have this super specific idea if you could maybe do headcanons for it

Charlie, Lilith and Lucifer met Lucifers ex wife which Lucifer left for Lilith and she has changed alot her personality has gone from a shy submissive woman to a more independent and emotionally stronger woman (if you could maybe add the ex wife's daughter and son that are also Lucifer's which he did now about) could you make it angst and platonic thank you

Charlie, Lucifer & Lilith x Lucifer's ex!reader : 'A Changed Soul'

A/N It got a bit vague with lore at points so I'm sorry if the gaps I filled in were really off (Thinking about Lucifer giving more kids daddy issues bro 💀🧍🏻‍♂️)

She's written as an angel who's gone to hell to look at the hotel for Sera after Pentious is redeemed/ the extermination.

Also yeah ofc this is my headcanons for how Lilith acts and whatnot, could be proved absolutely wrong in S2. Never in a million years thought I'd be writing Lilith directly 😭

Cw: SFW, angst, fem!reader, platonic

Charlie

- When you show up on her doorstep, introducing yourself as (name) and as here to review the hotel, she's in awe of you frankly.

- Charlie would be shocked upon meeting you for several reasons.

- Obviously, you're her dad's ex which is extremely awkward to say the least, but also you're so much more different than what she had heard from all the rumours surrounding you.

- Charlie of course agrees to allow you to look around despite how cautious Vaggie is of you, trailing ahead of you and nervously explaining the hotel's various amenities as she went.

- She calms down slightly when you say that you don't hold anything much against her for simply being the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith. That you were just here for business and nothing more.

- At one point during the tour, you abruptly stop in front of the big family portrait of Charlie, Lucifer and Lilith, fist and jaw clenched as you look up at it.

- Charlie stands near the hall as she watches your halo glowing somewhat threateningly before you sigh deeply and calm yourself. She's sympathetic to your anger.

- It's then when Charlie is utterly horrified to learn that she actually has half siblings that she never knew about as you tell her about them.

- And that's when Lucifer himself finally shows up.

- All in all, Charlie just feels incredibly bad for you, she's not too surprised at how different you were since Lucifer left as she wasn't born at that point. She's more shocked to learn that she has family she never knew about.

Lucifer

- When Lucifer sees you in the hotel next to Charlie who ALSO looks displeased at him, he instantly starts panicking.

- "(n-name)! It's been a while- I-! Whats- uh. How have you... been?" Sweat rolls down his brow as he awkwardly grins, looking rapidly between you and his angry daughter.

- You raise a brow at him, hands on your hips as you eye him. "You mean how have I been after you left me and my kids?"

- Lucifer is floored by the tone you give him and takes a couple of seconds to truly realise how much you've changed since he was in heaven. It's clear as can be that you aren't who he used to know.

- Terrible guilt stabbed into him as he realised he was definitely the reason why your warmth and shyness had seemingly ceased to exist.

- He apologised, looking to the side while awkwardly shifting on the spot.

- Truthfully, Lucifer rightfully felt awful about what had happened. It stung to hear you refer to the kids you had together as not 'our' but solely 'my', and to see it was very obvious that you had moved on from him even if you were still pissed off.

- Lucifer naively followed Lilith away from you and look where that got him: Divorced by her, and left all alone to pick up the broken pieces.

- You shortly left after the small exchange you had with him, thanking Charlie on your way out and leaving him to deal with her confronting him about you and your kids.

Lilith

- Lilith was the last person you'd ever want to see again. However, she was a mark on the mission that Sera had given you, and you didn't want to drag out the rather unhappy trip down memory lane you'd already taken that day.

- You were already irritated as you approached Lilith to find her sipping a cocktail and reading a magazine.

- She looked up as you came to a stop about a metre from her seat. Her eyebrows instantly raised upon recognising you.

- "I have to say, it's not fun to know that the homewrecker who your husband left you and your kids for divorced him and then abandoned the daughter she had with him."

- Your words sent irritation flooding through Lilith, overpowering her surprise at your transformation and making her lip curl.

- "You ought to hold your tongue while in my presence." She coldly hissed, sitting up and folding her arms.

- The conversation with her would be even shorter then Lucifer. You simply telling her that that she ought to pay more attention to what her daughter was doing and the stir Charlie was causing for both heaven and hell alike.

- Lilith wouldn't feel a lick of remorse for her actions unlike Lucifer, and her surprise at the 180 your personality had done would be secondary. She truly doesn't care at all for what she did.

- She would be more angry than anything that you are lecturing her about what she believes is her own business and that you have the 'audacity' to address her in such a disrespectful manner.

Dramaaaaa

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel charlie x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel Lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer headcanon #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel lilith headcanon

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symbio-ratio-art · 3 months

Text

(Frightbite is posed so he's a lot shorter in the drawing than he actually is!)

I finally got back around to fixing that Fredbear line to go with my Springbonnie line from before. These two are called Timiteddy and Frightbite!

Below I added more talk about my mindset when making these guys, some inspiration behind their designs, and some more lore that was too much for their dex entries. These two lines have a "friend to enemies" dynamic going for them and it's impossible to write it all in two Pokedex entries 💀

I chose Fairy-Psychic for Timiteddy because I wanted him to be based around the Fredbear plush from FNaF 4. To this day, people debate if Fredbear plush is possessed or imaginary or just Afton messing with BV. For this I decided on the imaginary friend theory hence Fairy. The Psychic type comes from "Psychic Friend Fredbear" because it was right there. I had to 😂 His design is entirely based off the Hex Fredbear plushie design with a touch of Bite Victim's constant tears. His shiny is a mix of Nightmare and Lefty with grey tears from the dead kids.

Timiteddy's whole quirk is that his entire appearance is deceptive. He gives off the vibe of a weak Pokemon due to his plush appearance, constant tears, and aversion to fighting, but Timiteddy is actually strong by default and a force to be reckoned with. Those tears are the result of an overflow of psychic energy caused by his lack of fighting. They are used for both attacking and defense, and his claws pack quite the punch as well. Timiteddy stays on the defense for than anything however, for the reasons stated above. Lots of Timiteddy can be found around younger children or the Pokemon Hareo. Despite their differences, Hareo and Timiteddy stick together. They're two halves of a duo.

Frightbite is a based off Nightmare Fredbear and the Hex Fredbear plush. He keeps the Fairy typing for the imaginary/nightmare/dream element Nightmare Fredbear is associated with, and the steel typing also comes from Nightmare Fredbear's sharp metal claws and teeth. His shiny is a mix of Nightmare, Shadow Freddy, and a touch of Puppet with the purple tears. His back is ripped open due to his evolution requirement: being defeated in battle by a Bonslaught.

Frightbite's whole theme is betrayal. The evolution is the result of a Timiteddy being destroyed by a Bonslaught, the one Pokemon line they keep their guard down around. Timiteddy are one of Bonslaught's favorite victims due to the manipulation element and the violent battle that comes after the betrayal. The negative emotions from that come from the encounter cause the Timiteddy to lose any inhibitions they had with harming others, leading to the Pokemon evolving into something much bigger and much more visually intimidating. The last remnants of its psychic tears harden into claws and the rest is permanently lost due to his ripped open back.

Some of Frightbite's ripped seams been weaponized by its evolution. The most obvious one its its stomach. While still partially sealed with a button, its chest has become a second functional mouth capable of biting anything Frightbite is able to hold into place. The second is the seams going down his neck. While the first four stitches are able to stretch with ease, the rest can be stretched temporarily to cause a devastating bite for anything it gets a hold of. A Frightbite rarely has to use this heavy of a bite however. His bottom jaw with always curve down when opened due to the lack of structure.

Despite their nightmarish appearance, Frightbite are actually great to keep around kids. They are very careful with their claws and teeth because they know what its like to be on the other side of them. Towns dealing with dangerous Bonslaught often borrow or adopt Frightbites from other nearby areas to help protect any children they have. Frightbites are one of the only Pokemon a Bonslaught will avoid out of fear.

Frightbites and Bonslaught who are raised together still have this instinctive fear and instinctive hatred for one another albeit a lot tamer than in the wild. It is important to always keep an eye on these two if you keep them together, even if they were thick as thieves when they were children. A Frightbite is only caused by a violent attack from a Bonslaught after all, and Frightbites have never been ones to easily forgive and forget...

#five nights at freddy's #pokemon #fakemon #fredbear #spring bonnie #glitchtrap #nightmare fredbear #digital art #fanart #These fuckers live in my head rent free #I will be drawing more of them in the future #especially of Bonslaught and Frightbite interacting

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oblivious-aro · 16 days

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What did you mean by Wes Weston not being a real character on the show?? (I think you may have mentioned this before but I forgor 💀

So in the background of one episode, there's this one filler character in the crowd who people say looks like Danny:

(This is literally Wes Weston's only appearance)

His name comes from a funny joke where Sam holds a ring she doesn't know was meant for her upside-down:

I don't see the resemblance between him and Danny much, but whatever. I guess they have the same body model? Anyway, people decided to give him a backstory based on this fact. Wes is the only person in town who notices that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton look very similar, but no one listens to him, so he goes full obsessive conspiracy nutter/stalker.

There's a couple of other optional tropes and trappings that can come with him. In some fics people start accusing Wes himself of being Phantom (with varying degrees of seriousness). He's often given a brother named Kyle who foils Wes by being super chill and straight up thinks that ghosts don't exist and are an elaborate hoax, never mind Wes's Danny nonsense. Some fics work with the fanon that Danny gave up trying to keep his secret identity from the obnoxiously persistent Wes, and just straight up transformed in front of him one day, but continues to torture/gaslight him by denying everything.

No matter which bits of fanon are being used, the basic running joke is that Wes is constantly having a bad day trying to prove something very obvious that he just can never quite acquire definitive proof for. A bit like Candace from Phineas and Ferb.

Despite all that extra lore, it's a very basic joke, and the fandom’s been telling that same joke for years. Wes is fine, I guess, but calling him stale would be an understatement.

He's weirdly prominent. There's a lot of fics still being made about him to this day (they're all the same. I funny get the appeal), and even in ones that aren't, he'll often pop up as a side character with varying degrees of prominence. You know exactly what to expect when he does show up, because it's the same shtick everytime. Years later (I don't know exactly when he was created, but I found a Wes fic from 2016, so I mean it when I say the joke is old), fandom still writes the exact same concept over and over again, and everyone loves it.

Danny Phantom really is more about the fandom than the show. No one likes Wes because he's interesting, it's just fandom-original-creation pride.

So yeah, Wes Weston is a fake Danny Phantom character who gets more attention than some of the real ones.

#i tried to make this a neutral explanation but did a bad job and complained a lot 👍#i would probably be less annoyed by him if he wasn't soo freaking prominent #danny phantom #wes weston

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blissxjj · 7 months

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can u do how the om brothers would react to a mc that is like. (for lack of better words) EXTREMELY dumb ..... like karen smith level slow💀 very oblivious too.

I am so sorry for not responding early but here i am to make your request :3

(Hope it's not too late :D)

Lucifer:

• This man is fed up with your slow mind and oblivious nature.

•It's ok to be slow...

•But NOT that slow.

•He always tries to not get mad at you or yell when you don't get him because it's not something you are doing on purpose.

•He is a prideful and respectful demon on top of that very professional so it's already hard for him to flirt with you.

•He once made it so obvious that he wanted to be more than just friends but you really are slow to catch on and he ends feeling down.

•You really are gonna force him to do a full on confession.

Mammon:

•At first he thought you were playing dumb or you are making fun of him.

•But no he is very sure now that you are just slow.

•He tried to keep his feelings on the low because he was not ready to face you

•But really he could shout them and you would be oblivious to them.

•Mammon does not hate your nature in anyway but sometimes it's...too much.

•he once asked you to hold on to his cash while he dealt with someone

•1 second after he left, you managed to lose it all to dumb things like wind, falling down drains.

•But despite it all gosh! he loves you so much.

Levi:

•He thought you were dumb.

•now he knows you are dumb.

•you spent all his hard earned money on the wrong Ruri-Chan figures and he wouldn’t trust you with it again.

•He wanted to play duo games with you and surprisingly you weren't that bad.

•Still bad though.

•he hates it when you feel out of place, he was in your shoes before and he wouldn’t want you to go through that.

•despite all the chaos you bring plus being oblivious to it.

•He can relate to you in many things.

Satan:

•I really have nothing to say about him but....

He has anger issues don't test him.

•he really wants to be patient but there is no saving you.

•sometimes he reads books for you and you ask stupid and unpredictable questions.

•sometimes you miss the whole point of the story.

•he will be there boiling red with anger and you still are oblivious to it all.

•he would never blow up in front of you.

•you sometimes ask stupid questions but sometimes you ask deep questions that make Satan think for hours and hours to come up with an answer.

Asmodeus:

(I really don't know what to write for him so so so sorry :()

Beelzebub:

•he is happy to meet another slow person like him.

•he enjoys spending time with you because it makes him relax.

•not having to worry constantly about his looks because you would not care to notice anything.

•he thought you were playing hard to get at first but it all changed once he understood you.

•your dumb questions are entertaining for him.

•he thinks you look cute with that confused look.

Belphie:

•He couldn’t care less.

•HE LET'S YOU BE.

•All he wants is peace and quite so please leave him alone.

•the more you don't talk to him the more questions you have for him for when he wakes up.

•he loves how excited you are to see him awake and he loves it too.

•untill you say "so i was wondering...?"

•he glares at you then back to sleep he goes.

Masterlist

#fandom #fanfic #stories #obey me #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me scenarios #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me mammon #obey me luficer #obey me belphie #obey me levithan #obey me asmodeus #obey me headcanons #headcanon #anon ask

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harmonysanreads · 1 year

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heyyy, i’m the anon who proposed the yan vamp kaveh alongside his trauma dumping tendencies 💀 it’s been awhile but it’s just bc i’ve been busy!! anyway, i’m glad for the feedback!

now that my ramblings has been enabled, i was musing a thought earlier about the sumeru hexagon au. since in the main story where—i think—everyone is contingent with the fact darling is a traveler, who had to suddenly go home due to family businesses. if we’re going with that main plot point, isn’t it safe to assume that darling would have many friends that they made along the way? imagine darling getting a swarm of letters from their many friends from the seven nations of teyvat. a few letters here and there with one from mondstadt, something something about a winery. another one from fontaine and a few photographs of fontaines lush scenery. a gift from inazuma, the list goes on. it seems darling is the sociable kind, very popular. once every few weeks darling would get a letter from a friend, but there’s this particular sender that becomes a frequent pen pal to darling.

here’s how i think how each bachelor would react:

*kaveh: he’s a very passionate man. unlike his roommate, he’s not afraid to show his feelings—or more like, he sees that showing vulnerability and emotions is integral for a blossoming relationship. kaveh runs on emotions with the way he presents himself, so he’s no stranger to being loud himself. especially when he’s running on a bit of alcohol. he gets tipsy fast and it’s an even more deadly combo. once kaveh sees you paying more attention to these letters, he can’t help himself but feel an itchy feeling in his hands. he keeps imagining himself snatching up those stupid letters you have tucked away in your hands. you shyly hiding it beneath the table, your eyes going back and forth between him and that scrap of paper that seems to be your final calling. kaveh knows you’d rather much pay more attention to whatever squabble on that paper than at him. kaveh throws a joke your way, but you shrug it off. he scoffs, rather loudly. suddenly you get the hint and stuff the letter away somewhere in your pocket. but it doesn’t dissuade his seething frustration. his hands gripped tightly on his drink at the whole ordeal. luckily it isn’t glass as it would be malleable to his anger. there’d be shards of glass stuck to his skin now. but the more he thought about it…it wouldn’t sound too bad. what if—you’d finally tear your loving gaze away from that paper and instead place it on him as you hold his hands in reverence. that’s be nice, kaveh dreams.

*al haithaim: he is a quite man. yet he’s observant. it’s not like he lets it happen because he’d rather not place intrusion on your private affairs. no, he cares a bit too much for any sense of privacy. despite the obvious crossing of boundaries between “close friends” (as you emphasised) he rationalises and rationalises and rationalises. a common sign of a mad man, finding excuses to lessen the blow of the self-awareness. the thing with al haithaim is that he’d never admit to many things. which is why he’s quite and finds himself just…watching. no he’s not being crazy; he’s just curious. well yes, of course, who else caught your eye so intensely you’ve kept a souvenir from them. “something to remember them by.” you tell him after a maple leaf falls out of your book. you’ve been keeping it as a bookmark. al haithaim already feels something swell inside of him when he doesn’t recognise that plant as not a native plant anywhere around here. he’s already inflexible with any sentiments and emotions, staying in the rigid lines of logic. but why is it he’s stunted silent at the sight of you happy for another? why is it that he feels something like a knot in his stomach eating him up when you speak of this “friend” of yours? al haithaim watches carefully, picking up every minute detail. and if by any chance he’s free from his busy schedule, he’ll find a way to get his hands on those letters you keep dear.

*cyno: he’s somewhat the same as al haithaim. but unlike the latter, cyno doesn’t let his perturbations shut his lips and keep his heart locked away. there’s no need for a calculating tactic, to silently watch and observe, to plan out what needs to be done. he knows what he feels and why. it must be because of his occupation that he acts this way. so when he sees these letter or even catches a hint of it, he’s quick to question…thoroughly for the matter. he doesn’t play slow, he plays in whatever card he’s been handed with and deals with them right away, concisely as he needs to. cyno is no stranger to using his voice. his voice is stern at first, questioning you about this friend of yours. cyno tells you that your trusting nature will one day be your biggest flaw, as he grips one of your letters tightly in his hands. you cast it as part of his serious nature, but the less you’re willing to share, you notice how cyno closes in on you. verbally, the way his questions become increasingly curt with no room to back out. cyno asks you if you’re so sure this person is genuine as you are, with only knowing them after a few meetings and nothing more. well, how can you already be so vulnerable with them when the main contact is through letters? it’s easier to deceit one another when you’re not face to face with them…c‘mon darling?! don’t you see how it’d be easy for you to fall for a trap like that?! are you sure this person is not taking advantage of you?! and with the way cyno begins to hone in on you with each bated breath, physically, when you feel his presence dwarf your meek one. unlike being discreet, if he ever catches you with these letters in your hands, he’d snatch it out of your hold under the pretence of doing…whatever he is doing. he doesn’t say exactly, even when you try to grab it back. cyno see’s no reason to give you an excuse, other than an expression of bitterness. it’s one thing to be keeping a secret lover, but another thing to have the audacity to bring it up around his presence. i mean, you’re asking to get interrogated at that point. though he might be able to question you, you have no room to do so on your behalf. if you ever try to reason with cyno’s absurd behaviours, you’d only be met with a pointed look from him and it’s enough to shut you up.

*tighnar is observant himself, but he plays it coy. he has a way with his words, especially when he knows you know his humour as sarcasm. you don’t take him seriously at first when he comments about how you’d rather pay attention to some sappy love letter—which you deny that it is one. it ensues in a banter of a teasing kind. it is. it is not. it soooo is. it sooo is not. but beneath all of those nervous giggles and eye rolls, there’s a cold glint in tighnari’s eyes. jokes would slip pass his lips, but it does not convey what truly lies in his heart. he’d rather not. for now, he’s seeing every detail of your reaction. he notes how after he joked about it being a love letter and how you attentively read each one, you began to act jittery and there’s a smile on your lips that hasn’t been wiped off your face just yet. interesting. and you kinda notice it too, notice tighnari’s prowling eyes. but you don’t think of it with any malicious intent. instead, you ask him for advice. you believe he’s looking out for you. and out of the bunch, tighnari is one of the sociable and personable kind. so one day, you share him a peek of one of the letters. you ask him, what your friend means by this phrase—are they possibly hinting at something deeply intimate? is it crossing the lines of friendship into something…more? should you instigate it and let it happen—or are you just overthinking it?! as any good friend would do, tighnari dissuades all of this. he tells you, you are overthinking it and maybe to not jump into conclusions. you nod and agree. yeah, maybe you are pushing it! he also adds, if it were to evolve into something more, it would be difficult to maintain a relationship anyway due to the long distance. and from what he’s known, long distance relationships usually never ends well. and well, he cares for you too much to not see you get hurt at the end of this. you agree even more. you were just being delusional, he jokes. you laugh back and thank him for his words and advice. he jokes again, “i know i’m always right.” tighnari’s next hypothesis is how he’ll get his hands on these letters himself. it only seems to get in his way. he’s the type you wouldn’t expect to act so irrationally or even in such a manner, that if you ever catch him cracking through his forced smiles and jokes, you’re in for a treat.

*scaramouche is fragile like a glass. swaddled in his own enclosure, of which he finds himself in the warmth of your hands. scaramouche yearns for you, so when you speak of another name with a giddy smile, you began to feel cold to him. he hates this feeling. it’s anguish, torture. and he’d do anything to keep this warmth to himself and only him. due to close proximity, he’s mostly likely the only one who’s able to get his hands on these letters easily. he’d wait until you’re asleep, staring at your chest fall and rise. after he watches you breath for a few minutes, he finds himself rummaging through the letters you’ve kept so far. he reads through the more intimate ones, near and dear to your heart, with a scorned look on his face. these vulnerabilities that you shared with him, scaramouche cherished deeply as a sign of trust. yet it is shared with another. he can’t help himself but let the letters scatter pitifully into the fireplace nearby. at least he’ll keep you warm tonight. all you need to do is to return the favour.

btw: i kept the sender of these letters open for any, but i kinda hinted that it was kazuha. also might be ooc, especially on cyno and tighnari’s part because i haven’t grasped how they’d act as yanderes??

anyway, i implore you to add on…i wish i could write more about it but i’m running out of brain juice as i speak.

Nonnie nonnie hear me out,,, I think we might be soulmates because this is EXACTLY what I was thinking about the other day !! I hereby dub you as vampire kaveh anon for all the exquisite meals you've given me<3 And Tighnari in this is making me swoon?? That little gaslighter :v Cyno is so frustrating ughhh (I love your take on them) and I just know why you specifically chose Kazuha in Alhaitham's part ehe [ au masterlist ]

There are whispers in the wind that a certain bartender keeps many of Sumeru's secrets dangling at their fingertips, it never is easy coaxing a certain set of information out of them though, just as it is with what remains locked in their heart.

There is a simple, albeit unspoken rule across Teyvat : when one's desire becomes too fervent, they either receive the recognition of the divine or delude themselves in a reality that does not actually exist.

“—veh? Earth to Kaveh!”

Kaveh thinks, and he's certain that he has no reason to worry about the latter, not when the testament to the former hangs proudly by his person. But that doesn't stop him from desiring for more, after all, which human is ever truly satisfied?

The remaining wine from Kaveh's glass jolts as his hand slackens, body in a temporary state of disarray as you shake his shoulder firmly. He blinks once, twice, thrice and slowly adjusts to the sight of your pinched brows.

“A-ah, yes?”

One of your eyebrows raise in appraisal and Kaveh finally gathers his bearings, realizing the cause of your frown to be his dazed state. If his cheeks were flushed before, they now compete with the colour of his eyes.

You watch him a bit more and the Architect dares not to breath, relishing in the attention of the eyes that can pick apart any turbulences within his soul, the ones he's wished to be on him throughout the whole evening. Your lips part and he braces himself for a scolding, but it's never voiced.

“..Go home.” Kaveh responds to your gentle command by staring dumbly and it inclines you to add, “You're out of it, I don't want you to cause more trouble for yourself, alright? You have that meeting with an important client next morning.” with a final nudge on his shoulder, you move away to a different section of the Tavern.

Through slightly blurred vision, the Architect catches sight of the letter still firmly held by your hand and it makes his stomach churn further. There's no doubt in his mind, you left primarily because you wanted to read those wretched words, to think he was so excited to chat the night away with you as well. How disappointing.

Kaveh finishes the remnants of his glass, the liquid sending static through his nervous system and an epiphany waves. You don't make it far until a loud bang! echoes throughout the walls of the Tavern, you turn back hastily and search for the source of the noise. The Architect lies passed out on the surface of the table, his form almost slithering off of it before you catch it. A sigh escapes you once you determine him to be uninjured, another when you realize you'll have to drop him home, again. Kaveh faintly catches you calling for that hatted boy to take over and a grumble, almost revealing his ruse as a smirk curves at the letter finally laying discarded.

“I can practically see cogs turning in your eyes — what are you piecing together this time?”

Your airy admission has Alhaitham's gaze flickering from the scarlet leaf to your face, despite the depth of his stare and the awareness of it, there appears no faltering of your placid smile. That had been a prominent topic of the Scribe's studies for a while, do you actually not mind his scrutinizing eyes or are you just really good at acting unbothered? Because he's certain had it been someone else, they would've avoided him like the plague and yet, you seem nowhere near unsettled. Whatever it is, Alhaitham has accepted that no matter how much he observes, he can never decipher your personality.

“Hm, is it about my friend?” you answer for him just as his lips part and he wonders if it's the wine taking effect, or is your voice nearer than before?

“I was just wondering what kind of person has charmed you so much that you hold so tightly onto a leaf from them.”

“Hey! Maple leaves are pretty, therefore, worth holding onto for more than one reason.” you wag a finger to his eye-level, delivery matter-of-fact. Your defensive behavior both amuses and confuses the Scribe.

Then, the lights of the tavern bounce across your eyes and back at his in an apparition of revelation, “Actually, I think, you'll get along with my friend as well. Oh, I'm sure of it.”

An eyebrow raises at your declaration, Alhaitham subconsciously adjusts the settings of his headphones to amplify the echoes of your voice, hanging onto every word that leaves your lips. He's so intoxicated by the increasing teasing lilt of your voice that the thought of offering you a reply escapes his mind.

“But first...” Alhaitham catches your twinkling eyes on the top of his head for a moment, “We ought to get you a helmet.”

That has words form on his tongue, “A helmet?”

You affirm with a purposeful giggle, but offer no further clarification, skipping away with a tray of empty glasses. The Scribe watches your retreating figure with a bemused frown, replays of the interaction filling every crevice of his mind.

Meeting this mystery friend of yours would require him to wear a helmet for protection? Alhaitham's frown deepens.

It seemed that his hypothesis of you being a magnet for troublesome individuals was only proving itself correct with time. Hmm... Alhaitham would need to keep a closer eye just in case.

“..And those are the reasons as to why you should stop responding to these letters.”

“Hm... I still think you're being paranoid, Cyno.”

You expected the General Mahamatra to sigh in frustration and give-up with this petty debate at that point, you've seen your fair share of persistent individuals and through many observations you've devised two tactics against them : 1. Simply yield to their request so that they'll move on for the time being and 2. Being double persistent to assert dominance. Though, your personal choice would be to not deal with these types of people at all but the General Mahamatra makes even ignoring his blatant overbearance a challenge.

Cyno makes no effort to return your breathing space, he doesn't even seem to be deterred by your attempt at establishing the rightful boundary, “Was I not concise enough in my speech? Perhaps you need me to reiterate all 21 reasons once more?”

“—Good heavens, no!” a sigh escapes your lips, fingers raising to massage the skin of your temple. He'd been at this pointless charade the moment his sharp eyes caught sight of the letter, he hadn't advanced until he noticed the undeniable giddiness as you read through the words albeit. In terms of persistence, the General Mahamatra really does take the cake. But then again, what did you expect from a man who goes over every one of his jokes in great detail?

“Cyno, look. This friend of mine helped me a lot when I was in a.. particularly difficult situation. I know them well enough to be certain that they have no ill-intentions.”

“How so? They can use that excuse as a means of manipulation. Actually, are you being blackmailed, perhaps? Is that why you don't want to admit it?”

“I am not being blackmailed, I am not being manipulated. Even if I was, I'm more than capable of handling it on my own, Cyno.”

“That is the exact thing you said for that eremite mercenary and then what happened?”

“I admit I was careless then— wait a minute, how do you know about the eremite mercenary? I only told that matter to one person and it certainly wasn't you.”

Cyno's breath catches in his throat as your eyes fixate on his figure with renewed suspicion. The man's grip on the deck of cards hardens and loosens continually until he re-establishes eye-contact and you're almost the one taken-aback as he doesn't back down a bit.

“Come to think of it, I haven't seen the mercenary and his group of friends in a whole week. They used to be regulars as well, any ideas on the case, Cyno?”

“Well, they are mercenaries and being one means they take on arduous missions to distant lands from time to time.” the General Mahamatra delivers smoothly, so easily that you miss his initial intake of breath. His eyes hold your gaze firmly, you search and search for even a flicker of hesitance and return empty handed.

“Hm.. I suppose you're right. That still doesn't explain why you know of the matter though.”

The quirk of the man's eyebrow almost makes you feel stupid for even asking, “I am the General Mahamatra, [name]. I overheard some other mercenaries talking about the incident at Caravan Ribat, I trust you of all people know how loose lipped men get once a bit liquor hits their system.”

You hold his stare for a prolonged minute, sighing once you find no dent in the Matra's composure and acquiesce at last to his reasoning. Cyno nods a little too enthusiastically once you offer a free glass as an apology for suspecting him, missing the breath of relief that escapes his parched lips as you turn your back to get a glass altogether.

“But Tighnari, how are you so sure that the writer isn't trying to convey any double meaning?

One of Tighnari's ears twitch at your attempt at back-pedaling to the earlier discussion, he tries his best to maintain his nonchalant countenance but unfortunately for him and fortunately for observant eyes, his fox like features will always be more honest than his words.

You trace a finger along the cursives of the parchment, “After all, he is quite the trickster.”

“You mean your ‘friend’?”

“Yes, friend.”

The Forest Watcher hums at your absentminded reply, his ear twitches with a bit more force as your eyes glaze over in reminisce, “He was one of the first few people I befriended in Fontaine. Though the events leading up to that were rather.. wild, let's say, enduring all that mischief was worth it in the end. Oh, oh, look at this line ; he still teases me about that time!”

“...What an interesting character,” Tighnari muses, looking at the words you point, half of him feels proud that you'd share your secrets so casually with him and the other half feels bitter at the contents.

“He is, yes. But you avoided my question : how are you sure my friend isn't insinuating anything?”

Tighnari gives the letter a long look before shifting his attention to your curious stare, his features relaxes significantly when he determines you're not offended by his dodging.

“Well, the fact that you know your friend to be a trickster first of all, should be enough of a reason to validate that scenario, if that's what you're asking.”

You open you mouth to protest (he assumes) but think otherwise after you let his words sink in, flickers of uncertainty spreads across your eyes.

“Hm.. you do have a point,” a defeated sigh, “Let's drop this topic now, tell me about what you've been up to!”

The Forest Watcher's tail swishes at the change of tone, he's bent the situation to his advantage for now but he'll need to look for a long-term solution as fast as possible, lest you slip away.

The ex-harbinger freezes midway from throwing another parchment into the fireplace as he hears the shuffles of covers and a faint creak. He doesn't dare move an inch til everything returns to silence once more. One second, two seconds, three, four and he gathers the courage to face your slumbering form on the fifth. Stifling a sigh of relief, he quickly throws the cursed letter, not bothering to witness its destruction.

With tentative steps, Wanderer makes his way to your bedside, watching you for a few moments before sitting down on the small space beside your form. He knows you'd be disgruntled to find him barging in your room as if it's his own but he remains unbothered. If you really do react negatively, he can just say he's had a nightmare again.

How laughable, truly. The things he's doing now to maintain the affections of a mortal. He knows such actions are beneath a being of his calibre and yet, as mortifying the realization is, the puppet couldn't care less. The ex-harbinger's eyes soften ever so slightly as you hug your pillow tighter, shuffling beneath the silken sheets. A few stray locks of hair fall over your relaxed face and his hand twitches by his side.

Despite the small distance the puppet usually shares with you, he'll never fully grasp your thought process. Your kindness, as much of a paradox it is to him, still continues to be your greatest charm. It's no wonder you're so popular, all ants are drawn to sweets. Your unassuming visage is almost effective in making the puppet forget his initial bitter feelings if not for the glance at the fireplace. Wanderer has still not yet healed from wounds of a distant past, it's irrational but still, he cannot push back his fears.

Would you betray him, too?

The puppet knows it's beyond selfish of him to keep demanding more, you've given him so much but still his hunger for love remains as insatiable as ever. It burns him from the inside out and he in turn, burns all obstacles that stand in the way of your affections. He considers it a fair exchange, for all the suffering Teyvat has bestowed upon him, he deserves this much. He deserves you, wholly. So he succumbs despite that piece of his non-existent heart screaming to do otherwise, fingers brushing away the errant strands of your hair.

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