#not to air my personal life but i'm airing it

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖣𝖮𝖤𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖥𝖴𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖴𝖲𝖤 𝖫𝖮𝖮𝖪 𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hi! Apologies for being a bit inactive lately. Been tied up with stuff, but I'm back with a reading for you all! Today, we'll delve into what your future partner could look like. Remember, just take whatever resonates with you. This reading is more so about what sticks out to you when reading.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST

PILE ONE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Virgo.

Your future partner likely has an oval face shape with a more narrow jawline and chin, contrasted by prominent cheekbones. They're likely to have a slender physique, though proportionate in any case.

Tarot. — Six of Swords.

They give off a moody or unassuming vibe, seeming as though they don't express much. Yet, they're quite proactive in changing their appearance, whether it's their style, hair, or even their athleticism. However, they'll always maintain that aloof, 'leave me out of it' demeanor.

Additional. Hermit — Light : Seeks solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society out of fear or negative judgements of others. Refusing to help those in need.  Pioneer — Light : Passion for doing and creating what has not been done before. Shadow : Compulsive need to keep moving on.

As I mentioned earlier, they are constantly undergoing physical changes in some way. They have an introverted and withdrawn aura. They could let their hair grow out and become a bit scruffy before impulsively cutting it off. They maintain a rather deadpan expression when simply existing in their own world. The image of Edward Cullen specifically came to mind when pulling the cards.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. High Cheekbones, Heart Shaped Face, Pale Skin, Brown Eyes, Curly Hair, Cat Beauty, Honey Eyes, Thin Eyebrows.

Yes, very vampire allure-esque indeed. Their eyes could appear normally brown but take on a honey-like glow under certain lighting. Their eyes are quite striking, considering they have feline type features. Although hair color didn't come up during the reading, I pictured them with dark hair that complements their skin tone.

Apocalypse : Cigarettes After Sex.

PILE TWO

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Leo.

Of course, they possesses striking hair like a lion's mane—thick, unruly, perhaps even a bit frizzy, something that immediately catches one's eye, possibly long in length. Their eyes are equally intense, matching their strong jawline. They exude a fierce appearance that naturally draws attention, whether they seek it or not.

Tarot. — Four of Wands [Reversed].

Your future spouse might have a more mature-looking face compared to yours or for their age. They appear quite stressed, with heavy eyes and noticeable wrinkles, particularly around their eyes, such as crow's feet and frown lines.

This aspect also reflects in their demeanor. They might carry an air of disappointment, even if they don't necessarily feel that way—it's just a testament to what they've been through. They tend to go for neutrals in their clothing choices, not leaning towards vibrant styles. Despite appearing restless, they naturally possess an attractive charm.

Additional. Mystic — Light : Revels in intimate union with the Divine. Shadow : Delusional rapport with the Divine. 

They have a divine look to their appearance, regardless of their modest and simple attire or styling. There's a hint of mystique about them, but I feel it leans more towards a deity-like appearance rather than a witchy vibe. I imagine your future partner resembling a god/goddess, genuinely embodying timeless beauty.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Below Average Height, Legs, Medium-Length Hair, Prominent Mouth, Broad Nose, Copper hair, Medium Skin.

Your future spouse has a complexion you'd deem as medium-toned. When it comes to their hair, I envision it falling somewhere between medium to long length. Though a single color came out, you could interpret it as having hints of orange or red tones instead. Their mouth is defined by sharp, pointed features, while their nose possesses a broad, perhaps even slightly downturned shape.

Bernadette : IAMX. | Lucky Drive : Sarah Kinsley. | Who Is She? : I Monster. [ I think these songs perfectly describe their vibe. ]

PILE THREE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Aries.

Your future spouse has distinct/sharp, broad features with thick eyebrows framing their face. Freckles, beauty marks, or subtle scars might adorn their face, too. Their shoulders are broad and sturdy. They could be tinged with red in some way. It could be in their complexion with rosy cheeks, hair, eyes, or they just wear a lot of red. Despite a muscular build, they still have curves, whether it's slim hips and wider thighs or a smaller waist and broader hips.

Tarot. — Three of Wands [Reversed].

It seems they may have a serious RBF, often appearing quite frustrated or impatient. There's a strong and confident demeanor about them. When envisioning their build or expression, I see Rhea Ripley 100%.

Additional. Hero/Heroine — Light : Passion for a journey of personal empowerment. Shadow : Escapism and a false sense of heroism. 

When we typically imagine heroes, we picture them as polished and composed. However, behind the curtain, they bear the marks of their struggles, with visible signs of stress etched into their body. Your future partner will be this way. Peel back their layers, and you'll uncover scars, calluses, and an overall roughness.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Gray Eyes, Hawk Nose, Thick Nose, Scars, Thighs, Neutral Tone, Square Shaped Face, Hands.

What did I say about scars? It popped up three times at this point. Their skin tone has a neutral undertone, not warm or cool. Their nose is large and hooked. And those gray eyes? Unwavering. You could simply like their thighs and hands specifically, or there's something significant about them.

Hey Sexy Lady : Shaggy. | Blood Sweat & Tears : BTS.

PILE FOUR

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Pisces.

Your future spouse has round, soft lips, with dewy skin and eyes shining with tenderness. They have a dreamy aura, perhaps lost in thought at times. Their hair may tend towards the finer side. I envision them as 'dainty' and clumsy.

Tarot. — Four of Wands [Reversed]. | The Star.

The Star card suits them perfectly. They radiate both warmth and serenity, their presence quite calming. This reflects in their appearance, with a lively step and a clear sense of purpose in all they do. They have a whimsical charm, very cute!

Additional. Child : Orphan — Light : Independence based on learning to go at it alone. Conquering fear of surviving. Shadow : Feelings of abandonment that stifle maturation. Seeking inappropriate surrogate families.

In terms of aesthetic, your future spouse has a more colorful style. They appear youthful without seeming childish, dressing without fear and staying true to themselves, free from judgment.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Alternative, Sparse Eyebrows, Long Eyelashes, Waist, Slim, Small Eyes, Green Eyes, Bald, Masculine.

This aligns with what I was getting at. They definitely have an alternative style. Although the energy initially felt 'feminine,' masculine came out. So, I believe this person is deeply connected to both aspects. They might also identify as queer. And while they could actually be bald, I heard in it a joking tone, given their naturally thin hair.

The Shining : The Neighbourhood. | Confidence : Ocean Alley.

PILE FIVE

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Capricorn.

Your future spouse is somewhat lanky but has hidden strength, almost described as lithe. They carry an almost stern and steady gaze, radiating seriousness and maturity. Their bone structure is striking, too. Unlike typical Capricorns, they move with a deliberate slowness, calculated in their actions. They are an alluring person. — I forgot to add that they have nice teeth!

Tarot. — Knight of Pentacles [Reversed].

I picture your future spouse as having a disheveled and unkempt appearance, but in a somehow intentional and controllable manner—it's a bit hard to put into words. Think of someone like Hozier in terms of what I mean. They might give off a slightly lazy energy, dressing in loose-fitting clothes. I don't think they enjoy changing their appearance much and prefer to stick to the same style. I imagine they lean towards neutral or dark colors, something easy on the eyes.

Additional. Messiah — Light : Serving humanity with humility. Shadow : Exaggerated belief that you are the only means through which a cause can succeed. 

This person is confident, fully aware of their own charm. I envision them with darker skin and dark hair. If you're attracted to men, I imagine them having some form of facial hair, perhaps a beard.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Eye Bags, Light Freckles, Prominent Nose, Full Lips, Short Hair, Dark Skin, Olive Skin, Monotone Voice, Puppy-Dog Eyes, Brown Hair.

I think your future spouse aims for that bad boy vibe but doesn't quite nail it. They naturally give off that vibe, but they try a bit too hard to make it obvious. Perhaps they have freckles that become more visible in the summer or are barely noticeable. They aren't very expressive with their voice, but their eyes more than compensate for it, being a bit pouty, too. As for their hair, while I initially pictured it as long, it likely varies based on personal preference since short hair came out. Generally, they have a darker appearance overall.

Beautiful Is Boring : BONES UK. | Judas : Lady Gaga. | Too Sweet : Hozier.

PILE SIX

Zodiac Dice Roll. — Sagittarius.

Your future spouse has a wider face and a welcoming, cheerful demeanor. I see them with a cute button nose, sparkling eyes, and a pretty smile. They are bubbly and curious, with chubby cheeks and a curvier frame. Their expression reminds me of Armin Arlert. AHHH, I LOVE ARMIN! I HAD TO BRING HIM UP. T-T

Tarot. — Ace of swords [Reversed].

This person tends to get easily distracted, often appearing spaced out. Their appearance mirrors their emotions, reflecting whatever they're feeling that day. They're not one to settle on a particular style, constantly changing their look.

Additional. Shape-Shifter — Light : Skill at navigating through different levels of consciousness. Ability to see the potential in everything. Shadow : Projecting any image that serves your personal agenda in the moment. 

Yeah, they seem like a real shape-shifter. Always evolving, whether it's their physical appearance or their mindset. One day they might be all about frills and pastels, and the next they're wearing dark, sleek attire.

Specifics. — Take What Feels Right. Hazel Eyes, Button Nose, Tattoos, Neutral Tone, Fingers, Freckles, Hips, Round Shaped Face, Slim Nose.

It's kind of spooky how tarot readings can be so consistently on point with their messages. Hazel eyes were mentioned, but even if not, they have lighter eyes. They might have tattoos, but I'm not sure of what. You might find yourself drawn to their fingers or hips. I envision them as more heavy-set.

Primadonna : MARINA. | Paris, Texas : Lana Del Rey. | Black Friday : Tom Odell.

[elsa-fogen]

what do you think about the fact that al likes doodling?

i have a head canon that he has some sort of scrapbook or sketchbook full of little doodles of things going on at the hotel and just in his life, I feel like he would draw really stick-figureish (is that a word?) but I read a fic that depicted it as the same art style as an Invader-Zim obsessed scene girl and I could not stop cackling.

I also feel like he would either guard it with his life from everyone (exception to Rosie, of course) or just not bother to tell anyone and one day they just find him doodling schoolgirl style, kicking his legs in the air, LMAO NEW THOUGHT WHAT IF CHARLIE OR LUCIFER FOUND IT

OH! OH! Now that you mentioned it - i LOVE that about him! I just absolutely ADORE little thing he made for the add in the first episode. And i love this fact because 1) he's the first character i like that likes to draw canonically (okay maybe also toothless from httyd?) 2) Me and Alastor share so many similarities, and even drawing???? This just makes me love him even more (i'm sure we would hate each other irl tho AHAHHAHAHA or maybe not, idk)

SO, SINCE ME AND AL ARE SO SIMILAR, I'M GONNA PROJECT ON HIM MY DRAWING HABITS >:3c Forgive me this one, i usualy don't do that, i usualy project characters on myself haha

He DOES have sketchbooks just to draw, and they are ORGANISED. He's numbers every sketchbook and counts every drawing in them since the first one. He also has two numbers for each page - through one sketchbook and through them all. He has over 300 of sketchbooks by now (I have less, only 56). They are stashed somewhere in a very safe place.

Every sketchbook has a date of first and last drawing. Also amount of drawings. It looks like: NOTEBOOK 253 (number of sketchbook, also he doesn't call them sketchbooks) 03.06.1978-05.07.1978 (dates while it was active) 119 (amount of drawings) 29961-30080 (which numbers of drawings are in this sketchbook) He would cound something else, but he's just too busy to spend time on it. He can remember something thinking about what he was drawing in that period and vice versa

He used to draw at overlords meetings, pissing off Carmila and everyone else, because it looked like he hadn't listened to them, so Carmila banned drawing at overlords meetings (Alastor is still angry about it)

But he doesn't progress too much - most of his progress was made through first 10-20 sketchbooks, now he only has slight style changes sometimes when he feels like it

Tho he's really proud of his current skill and used to think that he's literally the best (used to get angry when reminded that it's not true) (now he kinda knows, but still likes his own drawings, doesn't accept criticism and doesn't try to purposely improve)

He likes showing his drawings to people, he knows and if he does, you have to say that it's literally So Cool, show enthusiasm turning pages and say that everything is just amazing. If you don't, he'll be OFFENDED. He also can leave a sketchbook opened on a page with a drawing he likes the most, and it's like a sign "NOTICE THAT I'M DRAWING AND SAY THAT YOU LIKE IT"

If he considers you a friend (well not like Rosie, but at least like Charlie), he'll be showing you his drawings regularly (and you have to be enthusiastic about it!!!!!!) He has showed it to Charlie, but somehow her enthusiasm is... too much. She's too patronising about it. He also shows his things to Husk, he knows that Husk is annoyed and doesn't give a shit, and he just enjoys his annoyance. He also shows his drawings to Niffty and she gives him Just Right amount and vibe of enthusiasm. (He sometimes draws something for her fanfiction if he likes something enough and enjoys Niffty's reaction (she explodes from happiness)). BUT!!!!! He never shows anything to Mimzy. Because she's like, person from the real life, and he feels like she would laugh at it. To Rosie he shows only things he considers his best and her opinion is the most important to him. He can even forgive her criticism (wouldn't take it tho) (she never critisizes him and absolutely ADORES his drawings). Angel kinda likes his drawings, but isn't enthusiastic about them enough

He doesn't take requests (Angel tried "draw me like one of your french girls" shit, Alastor never did (also his ass did not get the reference and he was like "i dont??? have??? any french girls????")) (Vox also tried to make Alastor draw something for him, Alastor was just "that's interesting, i'll think about it" and never thought of it again)

SOME OF HIS DRWINGS TURNED OUT TO BE PROPHECIES but he notices that only when something happens and then he goes back to his old sketchbooks and accidentally finds it. They are just coincidenses tho, but it's fun and Alastor makes a big deal from it and screams to Rosie like "I PREDICTED THAT SHIT 27 YEARS AGO" when finds out. (it's how i predicted many plot points from SU and literally TOH hunter's possession before the show even was a thing JHJDFJHFGJFDHKH i wonder if i predicted something from Hazbin, i need to look through my sketchbooks now)

If you dare to mess with his drawings and vandalise them... oh... you better pray to whatever god you belive in to make your sufferings be enough to redeem your sins and go to heven.

[latteandjacks]

"They should've made an emphasis on Sallie May being trans before" "There should be things that openly indicate she's trans aside from the horns" "The merch shouldn't show her with a bulge if she's trans, logically she should hide it"

My brother in Christ shut the fuck up

Aight, I get where most of you are coming from but let me just say that Sallie May is a big breath of fresh air from a lot of canon trans rep I've been seeing in the internet about big projects such as Helluva Boss, let's go point from point

This contains spoilers from Hell's Belles

Sallie May is a transgender Imp, this is not something that was decided just now for the short as her first appearance in the moon harvest festival already shows her with the thick line horns (Which are exclusively from AMAB (Assigned Male at Birth) Imps

If there's only one point these people made that I agree with is the fact that the horns thing should be something implied in the show, not specifically with the intention of outing a trans character but something simple that could give more context for those who do not check the wikis or the social medias that often

Other than that, I feel like they haven't actually meet a trans person irl because they believe that her being trans should be something that everyone should catch the first time they see her, that someone should inmeditaly point out she's trans, yet, they get upset at the fact that she's proudly showing a bulge on the merchandise They want the show to scream verbally about her being trans but not casually

You have no idea how relieved I felt when, at no point in the episode, her being trans was mentioned or outed, none pointed out her horns or voice and instead the problem was her feeling left out of her sister's life, and, again, not because she's trans and feels like Millie doesn't view her the same or some bullshit, but because Millie doesn't go home as often and felt a bit mad when she had to do her work In fact! Her not getting genitalia reconstructive surgery is also a thing that is cool about her, she got tits but didn't chop off the dick and is not insecure about it, most of times trans people are put between not getting surgery or getting ALL of the surgeries AND being extremely insecure about their genitalia, and yes, there's a lot of trans people that feel that way, but I think that aspect of her is really good representation for those that don't want to get surgery or only want to either reduce or enlarge their chest, not everyone gets dysphoria the same way and this doesn't make her less of a woman for that

Even if it's okay to have characters where one of the main issue of the comes from being trans (I have a few myself), It's also nice to see character that are trans but the main issue with their life comes from something completely different and not related

So for people upset about her passing so well you can't immediately tell she's trans Surprise! That's a lot of us want, that's what a lot trans people irl try, to just be a person of the gender we really are, to be normal and not needing to always out of ourselves, to be treated the same no matter what I make a lot of jokes about my lack of dick and my excess of tits, I only out myself as trans when formally presenting to someone and that is just because I'm not allowed to be trans so I don't pass as a boy at all and need to specify, but me being trans is something that most of my friend only bring into the conversation to make a friendly joke or when I bring it up

Sallie May is not only good representation, is one of the best I've seen in a while in the modern adult media, because she's subtle yet obvious You may not like Viv (Me too girl /non gendered), but I got to give it to her, the lgbt+ representation she does is on point

Anyways now that I tackled down that issue is time to actually talks about this short as a whole see ya

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

{event <3} + my usual yapping

HELLO COVEY

how are you? how is your event going? make sure you drink water.

anyway, for the event, i would like to request a newspaper? jason grace + fem!aphrodite!reader (but reader acts more like a dionysus kid, ya know?) and they move into a new apartment or smth.

that’s what i came up with on the spot. YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS AT ALL.

oh, and on the anon thing, i think you did great. (as a person of color) very mature. i would’ve just deleted the ask or um, curse them out.

anyways, mwah buh bye pookie 😘

im doing pretty well!! super stressed about my prom but so so excited...for it to be over lmao- ANYWAYS i hope your day is going stellar as well!! i wanted to scream cusses so bad (ive got the mouth of a sailor...get it?? im so funny-) but i felt that would have been stooping down to their level, which was so low that it wasn't even worth the effort lmao.

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ NEWSPAPER W/ JASON GRACE

"careful! careful! those are the plates!" jason called after you as you took the box full of the new plates for the new place. you waved him off and jason watched you like a hawk until you dissappeared behind a blind corner. he shook his head to himself with a tiny smile. despite your accident proneness, he couldn't help but want to spend every second of every day with you. even if it meant he was constantly watching for poles to help you avoid cartwheeling into or catching glasses before they went tumbling off tables. he'd readily spend his life doing that to breath the same air as you.

jason picked up the last box, shutting the trunk of the car before making his way up the stairs. those damn stairs that were the whole reason you were able to convince jason of this apartment building rather than the other one. you shyly told him under the covers in his dorm that you always wanted to walk up stairs with the love of you life as you talked about you days. hands clasped in hands and the ache in their calves long forgotten with just a glance from the other person who occupied the stairwell with you. jason put down a deposit on the apartment the next day.

"honey, i'm home!" teased jason as he swung the door open, just in time to hear the shattering of porcelain and cardboard.

"yn! are you alright?"

"i swear i was watching them but then i noticed my lipgloss was smudged from kissing you earlier and i thought i put it fully on the counter but i guess not??"

"you guess??? honey, our plates are shattered on the ground, they were clearly not placed on the counter."

"you know what?? you're sleeping on the couch tonight, mister!"

"baby...we don't have a couch."

[604to647]

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

First Movement (Adagio sostenuto)

5.5K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: About to make your society debut and enter London's marriage mart, you don't expect an old friend whom you haven't seen in over 10 years to make a surprise appearance at the first ball of the season.

Warnings: None! Fluff! B, C, D, E, F Bridgerton make appearances. It's me so there's a cute nickname (won't spoil). The masterlist includes a few words about how this reader insert is written - essentially, no reader description other than having hair and wearing dresses in the style of this era, reader has a backstory; much of this part is exposition (so maybe a little slow but we'll get there!😊)

A/N: My plan is to post the entire series before Season 3 of Bridgerton airs, because the story is intended to take place in the background of the same season and if things don't make sense after the show comes out then oh well 🤭 I'm also only 2/3 of the way through Julia Quinn's books, so please forgive me if some of my characterizations of the Bridgertons are not wholly correct 🙏🏻

Wonderful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

The Duchess of Hastings stands behind you, admiring the reflection in the mirror of the two of you together, “I dare say, if you had debuted with me during my season, there is a good chance that I may not have been the Diamond.”

“Oh, shush, your Grace,” you make a funny face at her in the mirror, to which she laughs and pokes you in the ribs, “Don’t you start with this ‘Your Grace’ business with me.”

That Daphne Bridgerton is your dearest and oldest friend in England is something you consider to be one of the great fortunes of your life, of which, as the daughter of a Count, you have many.  Violet Bridgerton and your mother, the Countess, had been dear friends and as such, much of your early childhood in England had been spent at Bridgerton House, running around with not only the same aged Daphne, but her elder and younger siblings as well.  The Bridgertons are one of the most beloved families of the ton, their good natured and spirited personalities recommending themselves to everyone, and accordingly, your memories of when your two families would gather remain some of the most joyous of your childhood.

Sadly, your dear mother passed away from illness when you were only seven years of age and your beloved father, who loved her more than life itself, could not bear to stay in England much without her.  The Count was one of several nobles charged with governance of Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Fleet; a gentle man, his purview was primarily diplomatic (as opposed to militaristic) and he thus travelled widely, often and always for long periods of time.

Though he did not wish to remain where so many of his memories dwelled, the Count could not bear to leave his only child behind, and consequently, you had joined your father on his travels.  He proudly raised a cheerful, spirited daughter who loved the seas and adventure as much as she did reading and music.  Your father found that exposing you to and requiring you to immerse yourself in so many foreign cultures at a young age led you to be the most sympathetic and kind hearted child, one who others found easy to converse with and befriend on account of your good humoured nature and open minded heart.  Unencumbered by the rigid etiquette requirements (and dress code!) of British high society, you happily embraced many freedoms that other young ladies of your age and breeding did not have the opportunity to enjoy.  Your father taught you much about the ships and business of the naval fleet, subjects to which you took a great interest; to this day, you know your way around most ships better than some sailors.  The Count was especially proud of your affinity for diplomacy, understanding the importance of fairness and tough negotiation both in foreign matters and managing fleets.  You loved all of it – spending countless hours pouring over maps and letters of diplomatic matters with your father and absorbing all you could; as you got older, you took great pride in the way your father would sometimes seek your opinion and advice on business matters and delighting when he would praise you on your ideas.

While he was unorthodox, your father could not be accused of being neglectful; he would not forgo your formal and societal education, knowing that one day, you would have to return to live in England.  Hiring only the most adventurous and brave governesses to accompany your travels, the Count ensured that your literary, numerical, musical and artistic accomplishments and pursuits could rival those of your peers back home.  You learned to dance the dances of grand balls, though you had only the few foreign dignitary hosted events to practice.  Your only other occasion to practice came when you would return for your infrequent visits to England, reuniting with your beloved Bridgertons to spend nearly all your time catching up and laughing with Daphne and her siblings, and take in what you could of British society before once again being swept away on another ship.  Though brief, these reunions with your friends, coupled with your frequent letters were enough to ensure your friendships remained strong and cherished over the years.

Two years ago, Daphne had made her societal debut, meeting and marrying her love, the Duke, during the marriage season and you could not have been more delighted for your friend.  That season should have also been your debut season, except that you and your father were in the Far East and would not have been able to complete the Count’s business and return in time.  Since you had postponed one year, what was two?  If you had your way, you would have made it three, not eager to give up the life of travel and leisure that you’ve grown accustomed to.  However, when the Queen wrote to ask why the daughter of one of her esteemed Counts has not yet been presented, both you and your father had to regretfully concede that your life as a carefree sea farer was over.

And thus, you find yourself in your present circumstance: in a luxurious silk gown the colour of swan feathers, wearing what might actually be swan feathers in your hair, about to be presented to the Queen before embarking on your first social season.  To be honest, you’re not terribly nervous, save for whatever nerves one always has whenever attempting something new, and you have good reasons not to be.

The first being that you are in the very capable hands of your great friend, the Duchess.  The now Dowager Viscountess had promised your mother that when the time for your debut came, it would be the Bridgerton family’s honour to sponsor you.  If anything, you felt that the honour was all yours – not only were you to have the support and backing of one of the most respected and revered families during your season, you would also be blessed with their company.  As fortune would have it, due to the timing of your debut, Violet had prepared herself to take on the duty of presenting not one but two girls: yourself and her third eldest daughter, Francesca. 

Fearing it was far too much work and pressure, you had assured Violet, whom you loved as a second mother, that she need not fret too much over you; you’re a woman of twenty-three with more world experience than most men twice your age, and encouraged her to focus her attentions on her own daughter.  Violet had been aghast at the implication that she didn’t think of you as one of her daughters, and you were about to be on the receiving end of a scolding that only a mother could dispense when Daphne came to your rescue.  As the Duchess of Hastings, she herself had the right to present young ladies at court, and she declared herself delighted to be your patroness this season.  This was decidedly a win-win; not only could Violet concentrate on Francesca’s prospects, you could now look forward to spending the season with your dear friend by your side.

The second reason you’re not overly anxious is that despite being older than most of the girls debuting at the same time, you know you have plenty to recommend you to potential suitors.  No, you are not terribly conceited nor do you hold your own attributes in such high esteem, but rather, very practically, you know most suitors will not let a small thing such as age deter them from the handsome fortune your father has bestowed upon you. 

The Count was forever exasperated with the shortcomings of the laws of inheritance and how they prevented his one child from inheriting his estate, but he made up for it the best he could with the legal avenues available to him.  First, he set aside a healthy dowry for you, so that you would be sure to attract a similarly healthy crop of high society gentlemen from which to choose a husband.  Second, via his will, you would be provided for for the remainder of your life with a generous per annum allowance that rivaled the income of many estates; you were to want for nothing even if you never married. 

And finally, known only to a select few, your father had a vast investment in an international fleet separate from the naval fleet of the queen; a beloved exploration and trade business venture that was the Count’s passion project - you and him spending many enjoyable hours pouring over the plans and movements of this fleet.  The dividends from your father’s shares went directly into a trust of which you (and any future children of yours) are the sole beneficiary, though the capital had to be held by a man.  It was the Count’s thinking that in addition to the income, it was only fair that you benefitted from a venture that you had invested much of your own heart and time into.  Naturally, being a part of your father’s estate, this investment could be passed down to the next Count (a distant relative), but your father had other plans.  If the intended recipient was willing, you father wanted to sell his shares to his future son-in-law, allowing for the dividends to continue flowing to you and so that you may remain close to the business via your husband’s involvement. 

In other words, there are plenty of reasons that potential suitors who might otherwise be dismissive of your age and lack of societal presence, may find you attractive (the least of which were probably your charm and wit); you can afford to be choosy and you fully intend to be.  And while you’re not quite so hopeful to wish for a great love like that of your parents, or even Daphne and her beloved Simon, you dearly wish for a husband that will understand and respect you; one who will celebrate you for your mind, experience, opinions and all the reasons why you’re different due to having grown up the way you did.

Daphne seems to have high hopes that there will be many potential suitors who will live up to your expectations.  You’re less confident than she, but still more optimistic than not.

Flopping yourself down on the chaise next to Eloise, the two of you heave heavy sighs in unison.  After the nerve-racking presentation to the queen earlier this week, the following days have been a non-stop flurry of ribbons, fittings, etiquette lessons and teas with the express purpose of study in the who’s who of the ton.  In just a few hours, all of Violet and Daphne’s hard work and preparations will be put on display when your contingent attends the first event of the season: the Danbury Ball.

Eloise passes a box of candy to you and you select a treat gratefully.  Though Daphne is your closest friend, you’ve sometimes found yourself having a fair amount in common with Eloise and know her to be a trustworthy confidant; this is one of those times.  While you don’t think you have it in you to hate anything as much as Eloise despises the marriage mart, the both of you at least have the good fortune of being able to be picky with your suitors and moreover, wish to exercise that particular privilege.  For Eloise, marriage is a cage.  For you, it’s the not marriage itself, but a union with an imprudent match that you wish to avoid.  If you can no longer be free to sail the seas and wander through the valleys and streets of the foreign lands that call your name, you must insist that the home you’re being called home to roost is at the very least, pleasant.

“I beg of you,” murmurs Eloise, “Please let all the fashionable young men fill up your dance card so that there shall be none left for me.”

You steal another piece of candy, “I’m afraid there’s more than enough young men to go around, El.  Plus, you really ought to beseech Franny for your request, my dance card may struggle for applicants on account of me being such an old maid,” you giggle.

“None of that negativity now,” chimes in Daphne from the open door, “tonight is full of possibilities.”

During the season, you’re staying at Bridgerton House so to be close to all the finery of dresses, jewels, shoes, ladies’ maids and moral support that you may need.  Your father is staying nearby in another house on Grosvenor Square, and comes by most days to see his daughter and dear family friends for breakfast at the very least.  You have loved your life with your father, but at times like these, when you are laughing at and listening to the loving snipes and bickering of the Bridgerton siblings, you often wonder what it would have been like to have a more traditional upbringing.  Pushing that thought out of your mind, you stand and pull Eloise up with you so that the two of you can follow the Duchess to the next room where you’re expected to choose from the glittering selection of dresses laid out for tonight.

As you lean towards selecting a pretty lavender gown, Daphne fills you in on the processional arrangements for your entrances tonight, “Mama, Franny, Anthony and Kate will take the first carriage, then you, Eloise and I will follow in the second.  We will enter the ball in that order as well.”

“What about Colin and Ben?”

“They’re meeting with some friend from Colin’s travels whom he met in… I want to say Greece?  They will make their own way and meet us at the ball.”  You nod agreeably; as long as everyone is together at some point or another, your first season event will feel a lot less daunting.

---

As you walk into the Danbury estate, you cannot but feel a bit overwhelmed by all the elegance and glamour on display.  Though no stranger to luxury and finer things, it’s not very often that you find yourself amidst so much opulence.  Eyes shining as you take in the finery, your voice is full of excitement and genuine awe as you compliment Lady Danbury and thank her for hosting tonight’s soiree.  Hand clasped tight in Daphne and Eloise’s as you make your way down the main hall to the ballroom, you see Colin further down on the right side of the hallway, waving alongside Benedict.  Waiting by the wall with the Bridgerton brothers is a third gentleman, tall and broad shouldered with soft, curly brown hair who currently has his back to you; Colin has on a mischievous grin and he’s speaking to the stranger quietly, eyes flitting back to you and his sisters periodically as you approach.  This can’t be good, you think with suspicion.  When you’re a few steps away from meeting with the brothers, Colin gives the stranger a slight nod and he turns around; before you even have a chance to look upon the newcomer’s face, you hear a familiar sweet baritone voice say, “Hello, Dulce.”

At first, you’re in shock; the Spanish word for candy is not a nickname people commonly call you and it’s one you haven’t heard in over ten years.  Then joy of recognition and realization overtake you and you completely forget where you are, crying out, “Pero!!!”  Your arms behave of their own accord and fly open to wrap around his neck as you launch yourself into the handsome man’s arms.

He hugs you back firmly and whispers low in your ear, “Happy to see you, too” before releasing you, the both of you immediately stepping apart and drop your hands to your sides, remembering where you are and that the eyes of the ton are always watching.  But you can’t help but beam; nor can you look away from Pero’s face. 

Pero Tovar had been your most constant and beloved friend for many of your happiest childhood years spent abroad.  Pero’s father, a Barón of Spain, was in charge of naval governance for his country in a similar capacity as your father was for England and accordingly, their paths crossed regularly in foreign countries.  Both men of gentlemanly dispositions, the Count and the Barón had forged a deep and lasting friendship as they conducted their business.  Another thing that they had bonded over was the fact that they were both widows who uncharacteristically chose to bring and raise their children with them on their travels. 

So, although Pero is eight years your elder and already in his early teens when you first met, being the only two children of sea loving foreign diplomats in the strange lands you found yourselves in readily recommended you to each other and you had become happy and frequent playmates.  Pero devoted hours and hours to your amusement, allowing himself to play more juvenile games of pretend that he may not otherwise with compatriots of his own age, and with his encouragement you grew to be brave and curious, always wishing to keep up with the older boy.  He helped you with your studies, and you played music for him, learning and mastering the pieces he enjoyed the most.  The two of you shared a love of literature and it became your special version of a traditional hunt in each new country you landed in to find foreign language versions of the other’s favourite books so that you could read the translations alongside your worn English copies.  Some of the most cherished copies of your favourite books, ones you carry with you from country to country still, were gifts from Pero. 

As you got older, your shared adventures expanded to include exploring the streets of new cities, trying local cuisines and frolicking on the beaches of the coasts of Italy, Portugal and even India.  The last time you had seen him, he was a strapping young man of twenty and you had been twelve.  His father was returning to Spain for an undetermined amount of time to deal with affairs of his estate, and Pero would be entering university, having postponed his acceptance for two years already.  Although you had each promised to write, the letters were far and few between and eventually you lost track of Pero – you can hardly blame either of you; you were travelling with your father and not always easy to find, and you didn’t really expect a young man concentrating on his studies to have the time to write to a young girl despite having been her very best friend for so many years.

But now he’s standing right in front of you and you can hardly believe your eyes.  He’s impossibly tall and wide, a far cry from the lanky boy with whom you scrambled over rocks on the beaches of Portugal, but he’s still tanned, leading you to surmise that he must still sail or at least get a healthy amount of sun regularly.  And while his face is older, devastatingly handsome with a cutting jawline partially hidden by untamed facial scruff, he’s completely recognizable to you.  An easy clue is the scar that runs from above his left eyebrow down past his eye, though faded from when you saw it last, but it’s the indulgent smile he’s giving you right now that gives him away to you.

“What are you doing at this ball? Did you know I would be here?” you can’t help but continue to stare at Pero wide-eyed, grinning like a fool.

“Oh!  We made the connection earlier this week at dinner,” chimes in Colin, “We were going to bring him over to the house but thought this would be more fun.”

You make to swat at Colin’s arm. “How did you meet this scoundrel?” you jest, with absolutely no malice in your voice, pointing your thumb at the still laughing Bridgerton brother.  As your group starts to move towards the ballroom, Pero falls into an easy step by your side, “We met when Colin was taking in the crisp sea air of Mykonos, and then again last year in the vineyards of Tuscany.  He made for excellent company after a long day of helping the locals prune grape vines.  Naturally, when I arrived in London for business this month, I had to look him up.”

Daphne is now tugging you towards the ballroom by your hand, and in turn, you’ve grabbed onto and are practically dragging Eloise down the hall with you.  You shout back to Pero, “I want to hear everything!” and can’t help the smile that spreads across your excited face when he nods after you.

“Oh!” you breathe, invigorated from the surprise of seeing Pero, as you come to a stop right before the entrance way.  Daphne smiles over at you, “It was so hard keeping it a secret from you!”

You’re astonished, “You knew about Pero as well?”

“Yes, I thought it might give you an additional boost of confidence to have another friend’s support during your first event.” 

You smile at your sweet friend and squeeze her hand affectionately, “Thank you!  It does and I’m delighted to see Pero again.  But in truth, my confidence could never be lacking when I have a friend like you next to me.” 

Daphne gives you her biggest smile and squeezes your hand right back.  A moment later, the three of you step into the ballroom and meet the gazes of the other attendees as you’re announced.

---

The ball is a whirlwind.  It seems you hardly have a moment to even catch your breath, never mind catch up with Pero.  From the moment you walked in to the grand hall, you were pulled in this direction and then that, introduced to new person after new person, some of whose names were familiar from your visits home over the years, and others only from the copious amounts of study you’ve done on the ton over the past week.  You’ve certainly forgotten all their names by now. 

Then it’s dance after dance after dance with the young gentleman that Daphne parades in front of you.  The dancing itself is quite pleasant and a lovely way to shake out some of your jitters, but you find the small talk hardly enough to get to know your partners, and when the dance is over and you’re once again being whisked away to another introduction or meeting that the Duchess has lined up for you.  The few opportunities you’ve had to take a breather and indulge in a glass of lemonade, you’ve been happy to retreat back to Pero and your small familiar group; but just when you’ve started to entreat your old friend to open up about his adventures since you saw him last, another potential suitor will be introduced and the entire cycle starts over again.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the evening that the frenzy has died down enough that you can observe and be amused by Pero’s behaviour at the ball.  While you’re constantly twirling around the dancefloor, you notice that he never leaves his position against the wall and doesn’t dance at all; he mainly scowls and looks displeased, hardly speaking to anyone other than the Bridgertons or you when you have a free moment.  You feel his eyes follow you as you glide across the dance floor with the young men that have asked you to dance, and even when you’re making your way through the room on Daphne’s arm, meeting and making small talk with the other families of the ton.  When you do happen to look up and search for him, you often find him glowering and looking dissatisfied, though if you catch his eye, his expression will soften slightly. 

Once while you were dancing with Lord Whitfield, you had caught Pero’s eye mid-turn and made a silly quizzical face at him, as if to ask What’s going on with you? and you think you see him laugh briefly before the steps of the dance require you to turn away from him.  You wonder why frowns so fearsomely and if there’s a reason for him to be so stoic and curt with the rest of the ton.  It’s so odd to you as you’ve never had so much as a cross word from him in all the time you’ve known him, not even when you had snuck out of the compound in Singapore when you were nine so you could watch the fireworks display.  Pero had come looking for you, his face serious and eyes panicked when he finally found you in the busy square, but he never once got mad.  Instead, he swore not to tell your father, and promised that if you had wanted to see the fireworks up close, he would accompany you.  And then he did just that the next night and the night after that.  But here, when not engaging the company of his friends, Pero’s countenance is positively sour.  Any hopes harboured by the mamas of the ton for snagging a Spanish nobility son-in-law this season are quickly dashed.  Barón Tovar is decidedly not here to find a wife.

With the evening more than half over, you realize that unless you make the point to do so, an opportunity to speak more than a few minutes with Pero will surely not present itself.  And while you are having fun meeting potential suitors, your mind consistently wanders to Pero throughout the evening.  Aside from simply wishing to catch up with him and be in his comforting presence, you do have something important you feel compelled to speak to him on.

After a particularly spirited quadrille, you curtsey your gratitude for the dance to Mr. Sedgewick, and before any of the young men you spy hovering nearby can approach you, you hurry as elegantly as you can toward where Pero is standing awkwardly pressed to the wall. 

Pero, having seen the look of determination on your face when seeking him out, asks with concern when you come up to him, “Is everything okay, Dulce?”

There he is, you smile when you see the kind, gentle expression of the boy that you knew for so many years, “Everything is fine, Pero.  Although I must admit to needing a respite from all the endless socializing.  Do you think we could get some lemonade?”

“Of course.  I would be happy to accompany you in fetching a glass.”

With Pero by your side, any person who previously had designs on engaging you during this brief break between dances now thinks better of it; you chuckle to yourself as his fearsome expression comically paves a clear path for you to the refreshments table.  Once having secured your drink, you ask Pero if you can speak to him privately.

Careful not to lead you from view of other people lest it incite a scandal, Pero finds a quiet place in the entrance hallway and turns to find you looking up at him rather seriously.

When you’re certain you have his attention, you launch into your confession, “Pero, please allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing.  I remember him as such a kind, generous man, and such a wonderful friend to my father and by extension, me.  I will always think of him with tremendous fondness.”

“Thank you, Dulce.  I know he thought very highly of both you and your father and forever treasured your friendships.”

But you’re not done and start to shake your head, eyes filling with tears, “And I’m so very sorry that I did not write to you at the time.  I didn't know where you were, but I should have been more diligent in my efforts to find you.  I deeply regret not being there for you if you needed someone.  I hope you were not alone during that difficult time.”

You hang your head in shame.  Pero feels a deep affection for you blossoming in his chest; before him is the same sweet and compassionate girl he knew when he was a boy.  Tender-hearted and endlessly considerate of the feelings of others, you always had more empathy than you knew what to do with; he himself had been on the receiving end of your care and concern more times than he could count.  Pero gently tips you chin up with his gloved finger, “It was a tough time and I miss him a great deal.  But he was an incredible man and I strive to follow the example he set for me everyday.  So, in many ways, he is still with me.  No need for any apologies.”  He gives you what he hopes is a soft and reassuring smile.

In return, you grin, “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?  The boy I knew would have made me pay dearly for even the slightest offense - my portion of dessert for a week, at the very least.”

Unable to hold back his own grin, Pero is finding it easy to slip back into this familiar type of playful banter with you, “Well, I was trying to be a gentleman, but since you think me nothing more than a brute, I shall have no trouble devising an appropriate punishment.  For your transgression against me, I demand… a dance.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and it feels wonderful to laugh loudly at something genuinely funny rather than the quiet polite laughter you’ve been making most of the evening. “A dance?  Well, that is hardly a concession for me!  One dance with you means one less spot on my dance card for some lord I don’t know but who Daphne thinks I might find charming,” you joke.

“Are you finding your potential suitors so far to be villains or are they all just very boring?” smirks Pero.

Giving him a little punch in the arm to show him you’re not really complaining, “I am not so terribly unfeeling.  They are for the most part fine enough gentlemen.  The particular circumstance we find ourselves in just makes them so very eager.  It can feel terribly awkward.”

“None of them are good enough for you anyway.”

“Oh, and you are?” you jest, eyes full of mirth.

“Dulce, I’m the worst of the bunch,” counters Pero, leaning in close.

“I don’t doubt it,” you haven’t smiled this wide all evening.

“Be that as it may, the price you must pay to regain my favour remains the same.  Shall we?” Pero holds out his arm, waiting for you to accept his dance invitation; you hold on to him gratefully and head back into the main ballroom, realizing this is the first dance of the ball that you’ve truly looked forward to.

When Pero takes his place across from you, the tittering from the crowd that the Barón has finally taken to the dance floor can be heard over the opening notes of the music.  You can’t help but giggle, and Pero beams back at you – your light laughter more melodic than any music he’s ever heard.

Hand firmly curling around your waist, Pero sways you to the beat and the two of you carry out the steps of the dance comfortably together.  You hadn’t realized how much stress you’ve been under or how much tension you’ve been holding in until now, when you find yourself actually relaxing in Pero’s strong hold.  For the first time this evening, you’re dancing without nerves or the pressure of having to make polite conversation or a good first impression; you can simply be.  You sigh in contentment.

“What is it, Dulce?  Are my dance skills not to the standard set by your other partners this evening?”

“Hardly,” you chuckle, “I know for a fact that you dance remarkably well.  And if I were to have any complaints, the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders since we learned these dances together.”

“That’s true, we can only be as good as the partners we practice with.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what Madam used to say, right before she would rap you on your shoulders with her rhythm baton,” you muse, nostalgic.

“That weapon had a name?  I have not thought of Madam for many years now, but upon my word if I did not straighten up and stiffen my arms just now.”

You share another chortle as only two close friends with a long history of fond memories and inside jokes between them can.  When you sigh again, Pero cocks his scarred eyebrow at you.

“Do not think me dissatisfied, my Lord.  It is simply just so comfortable dancing with you, as if it has not been over ten years since we last did so.”

“I feel the same way, Dulce.”

You smile sincerely at Pero; although you could explain yourself further, you somehow know that he understands your meaning without you having to do so.  Feeling content, both heart and mood light in the safety of Pero’s closed frame, you find yourself wishing that you could spend the rest of the ball dancing with only him.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @titabel

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓜𝓮 𝓝𝓸𝓽 ↬𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖎𝖛𝖊

“Love in light may not last forever, but love in shadows lasts a lifetime."

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ[quote stolen from @rachellerosziel] ࿐ྂ

→1988 words

���━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

"He said I might be part fae."

The sandwich tasted excellent despite the fact it didn't seem Lilia could actually cook food aside from putting together sandwiches. The food tray he'd brought in had all sorts of foods on it. A sandwich cut in halves, a small bowl of fruit, some crackers and cheese, and a cookie. He'd also brought in a glass of Orange Juice.

"Is that so? I suppose I may have to stop calling you child of man, then." Malleus said, interest piqued. "Hmm.." His low hum bubbled through his chest and rose into the air almost like a purr of sorts.

"I bet you'll come up with a new nickname eventually. Besides, we don't know for sure if I am part fae yet. I don't mind being called Child of man either way, though." A smile dusted (Y/n)'s features, and he returned it. "Sometimes, you remind me of a cat."

"Oh? How so?" Malleus asked with interest. She thought for a moment, before shrugging. "I don't know. You just give off that vibe. Prideful but not overbearingly so, usually alone.." She trailed off at the look on his face.

"Being alone isn't something you choose, is it?"

She asked, voice small and somber. Malleus lifted his gaze to meet hers, a fragment of something unknown and mysterious flashing across his face. (Y/n) wanted to figure out what that emotion was. She felt the urge to pull out every thought, every emotion, every ache and worry and pain filling his head and dissect it. She wanted to know everything about him at that moment. What did he like, what made him tick?

"Some things, you don't get to choose." He answered, casting his gaze to the side. "Sometimes, it is just something you have to bear and deal with. You can't choose to just make people like you. You can change yourself, but you'll get tired of the persona you put up quickly. Even worse if you become this persona. To lose yourself amidst the need for self love and the want of acceptance from others- that's where the dangers lie."

(Y/n) popped a cracker with cheese into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Have you ever wanted to change yourself, Malleus? Not like change yourself, but to be a different person entirely. Would you ever give up the life you had for something different?"

"No." Malleus' answer was immediate, and powerful. Flowing with confidence. "The people I know and the memories I harbor aren't worth ever giving up. The select few people I have are more than enough for me. And what about you?"

(Y/n) thought for a moment, a pang in her chest of anxiety. "I'm scared I'm going to have to choose one day. Or maybe I'll never even get the chance to choose. What if I can never go back? Aunt Jen.. And my pets. My old life. What if Crowley isn't able to find me a way back? Or what if the mystery about my dad unravels and I do ultimately choose to go back home?"

Malleus watched on with pursed lips. Perhaps he'd never given it a thought before, how potentially terrified (Y/n) was. Waking up one day in a whole new world, finding out her father was originally from this world, and finding out you may never be able to return home. That must have been horrifying.

"I believe you will have your answer at the end of this journey." Malleus said, settling a hand onto her shoulder and giving a small squeeze as an act of reassurance. Or could it possibly have been one of affection as well?

"Take it slow. No one can have the answers to everything in just one day," He stood up, grabbing the empty food tray and cup. "Live in the moment but don't forget to also have fun while living in the moment. I wouldn't want this journey to all be a nightmare for you. Let me show you to the spare room, you look tired, (Y/n)."

"I am tired." She admitted, giving a small smile. The walk was a quiet but comfortable one. Malleus had snapped his fingers at one point, proofing away the tray and cup of half gone orange juice to the sink to be washed later.

The room was simple but nice. A large bed, a dresser over in the corner, and a desk in another corner. Some candles lit up the room with a green glow, she had a feeling they were powered by Malleus' magic but (Y/n) didn't say a thing as she sat down on the cushiony bed.

"I will see you tomorrow?" Malleus said from the doorway. (Y/n) smiled over at him. "I'll see you bright and early, Mal." She concluded. The Dragon Fae nodded and closed the door after wishing her peaceful dreams.

-

It was a Hustle.

Bags and bags were being packed and moved around, according to Lilia they were going to take them all in one trip through the portal to Briar Valley. Realizing it was probably a good thing to pack some of her belongings for the trip, (Y/n) looked back at Malleus.

"I'm going to Ramshackle to pack some belongings. Do you want to tag along?"

With a nod, they were off.

The walk was mostly a quiet one, though once in a while Malleus did point out the architectural facts about certain things. It was mainly about gargoyles, though. It wasn't that hard to figure out how much he'd taken a liking towards gargoyles, though she didn't mind listening either.

"That gargoyle is fairly new, only around sixty years old at most," He pointed out, "Though the gargoyles in and around Night Raven Collage are typically older." "How old?" (Y/n) asked, looking up at him in interest. Malleus smiled down at her, his range showing slightly.

"Well I'm glad you asked. Typically the gargoyles around the school can be close to Five Hundred years old at most. Lilia remembers hearing about them first being put in. Some gargoyles had feared down to the point they were a danger to falling over and breaking off the tops of buildings, that's why some gargoyles look newer, they'd replaced the old ones."

The gate creaked open as Malleus opened it for her, and they both walked through, heels clicking against the cemented steps towards Ramshackle. "Are there some things people mistake for gargoyles a lot?" Malleus nodded at this question. "Many have issues depicting grotesques and gargoyles apart, though in all honesty the differences are there." "Like what?" (Y/n) urged him to keep talking, which Malleus didn't seem to mind all too much. In fact, he seemed open to talk about his hobby.

"Gargoyles are used to protect the building from water damage. They are waterspouts that project from a roof to carry rainwater away from the building. While Grotesques serve no architectural purpose but to be a decorative carving."

"That's very interesting. To be honest at first glance I don't think I would've known the difference. So that's why gargoyles are always typically found on a roof then?" The door gave way with a loud creak of neglect as (Y/n) opened it. She'd made the old abandoned dorm look a bit more liveable, though it was still badly damaged. Cups, bowls, pans and pots were set around to catch the water dripping from the ceiling and a tarp was placed over a large hole in the roof as a temporary fix. Though it was likely to become an issue at one point once filled with water.

"Precisely.. My, this dorm certainly is.." Malleus trailed off, (Y/n) picking it up for him. "Broken down, unlivable?" "In a way, yes. I would've expected Crowley to have at least helped you out some." She shrugged, walking up the stairs to her room and greeting the ghosts on the way past.

"Well, he didn't but I don't think there's much to be done in this dorm to fix it. It's been around too long for simple repairs." She opened her dresser and grabbed her book bag off the ground, emptying it before starting to shove in clothes. Malleus settled down on her bed, and they talked back and forth as she packed a few belongings. Clothes, some perfume and other accessories. When she came out of the bathroom carrying two boxes, he was intrigued.

"What may those be?" "Oh, just some pads and Tampons. I'm supposed to be getting my period sometime towards the middle or end of this week. Crowley was nice enough to pick me up some." She wasn't shy about it, she was a lady after all, it was normal for her.

"I see. I have not seen feminine products in quite a while. They've certainly evolved." She laughed at his words, stuffing them in her book bag and zipping it shut. "Yeah, they certainly have. I can't say they're much different from the ones in my world."

"It's kind of surprising, you don't seem all too bothered by the fact we're talking about my period." Malleus looked up in confusion at her statement, "Is it usual for people to be disgusted by a natural thing? Your body is simply shedding the skin of your uterus. That's normal."

"Uh.. I guess you can say so. Men usually make a big deal of it. They think it's disgusting. Or whenever we're upset they whine that it's our periods."

"Those aren't men then. Those are little boys pretending to be men." Malleus stated. (Y/n) resisted the urge to chuckle, "I guess there's a lot of boys in my world, then." He nodded in agreement, "I suppose so."

-

"It's not what I thought it'd look like."

"What did you think it'd look like?" Malleus joined her at the window of the large castle, peering outside of it with her. The town was pretty dark itself, that was something (Y/n) did expect. "Well.. I kind of expected it to be covered in thorns or something."

He hummed, the commotion of his servants behind him long forgotten about. Malleus' eye was focused on her, his newest companion as of now. How intriguing it was to have someone from a different world treat him with more kindness and love than anyone in the school ever could have accomplished. It wasn't something he'd expected even in the slightest.

"You seem tense." Malleus commented, a hand settling down on her shoulder. He'd half expected her to pull away- in horror or in disgust he didn't know which one, it was welcomed when (Y/n) didn't. "I'm just.. Thinking." She replied.

"Do feed my curiosity."

Oh, it's really nothing. Some things just look.." She trained off, gaze sweeping over Briar Valley from the window, it was fogging over from her breath, and Malleus heard the squeaking sound as she rubbed it off. "Similar?" Malleus finished for her.

"Yeah." (Y/n) answered, "A little bit. Not too much but.. Enough."

"Would you like to take a walk with me later? Perhaps your memory will be jogged if you are able to view the town. The brain always remembers certain types of scenery. Even if you don't think it does."

"Do you think it's possible I'm from here?"

"Perhaps. Only time will tell." He offered her an arm, "Come, it will only be a brief walk. We'll be back before lunch. Lilia," Lilia looked up at the mention of his name, the teacup warm against his pale lips. "Would you mind tagging along?"

"Khehe, why not? A little stroll couldn't hurt anyone." He set his teacup down on a small plate, (Y/n) had seen them before in movies, she didn't know what they were called and frankly, she didn't care.

Lilia stood to his feet, stretching and cracking his back. "Let us be on our way."

[cenorii]

Chris Redfield: personality

This is my psychological analysis of the character, which includes important details of the story, an analysis of the decisions they made and the concept of the phenomenon of «Guiding Fear». Contains spoilers!

Even if you know lore 100%, you will be able to learn something new from my thoughts

I did this to practice analyzing personalities and reliably prescribe my own characters.

[These are all my personal reflections that I have been accumulating and analyzing for six months. You can see the same analysis with Wesker here. In Chris' case, I want to dispel the myths that he is unstable and stupid. Thanks to everyone who reads this, I really appreciate it and it's nice to know that my thoughts are of interest to someone!]

Chris devoted his life entirely to the fight against bioterrorism, renouncing normal life so that others could have it. We don't know much about his thoughts and feelings, as it's in Chris' character to hide such things deep within himself so they don't interfere with his work, but his kind and honest nature shines through. His probable motto is «If not me, then who?»

The main theme of Resident Evil is the struggle with fear. We can speculate endlessly about which characters struggle with which fear, but I'm pretty sure Chris embodies the «fear of loss».

In his 48 years of life, he has lost many partners and squad members, as well as family and friends. Death follows Chris, and he is unbearably afraid of his curse. But who is Chris? In the eyes of many he is a hero, famous for his impulsive character and unbending sense of justice, because of which he is ready to argue with his superiors to prove his point. But behind the legend is a sensitive, respectful and careful man, able to recognize the best qualities in people and guide them.

«I'm not a hero» © Chris

Because of his fear of losing his loved ones, Chris needs control and order in his life, he avoids and minimizes any risks. For this reason, in re8 organized his own squad, separated from the organization, to have full control over the situation. This obsession to control his environment and outcomes to avoid the pain or disappointment that he has experienced in the past is a defense mechanism.

Chris is not an overly sociable person or someone who is eager to make new friends. Although he is easy to communicate, Chris still refrains from frequent socializing with people to avoid forming attachments that could potentially lead to losses in the future. He is used to formal communication between subordinates and colleagues, and informal communication only with those close to Chris who have been with him for a long time.

But let's go his way.

Chris and his younger sister Claire lost their parents when they were children, they died in a car accident. Since then, Chris has taken responsibility for his sister and they have become very close. The first major loss in his life.

At the age of 17, Chris joined the United States Air Force, where he stayed for 6 years. From there he has flying skills, and he is also good with various weapons and is known for his hand-to-hand combat skills, which will not once help him in life. A capable man who was fired for disobeying senior officers, because he didn't agree with them. Barry Burton, a friend he met in the Air Force, recommended Chris to S.T.A.R.S. (elite special forces division under the jurisdiction of the Raccoon Police Department), and that's how his fateful meeting with the Alpha and Bravo teams happened. On the team, Chris was valued for his versatility and was assigned as a point man.

There Chris won at least one award as the best shooter and also met Jill Valentine, who later became his good friend and partner.

His desk in S.T.A.R.S.'s office stands out with its perpetual clutter, scattered folders and disks. He tends to bring things from home, decorating his place with them. For example, next to his desk, Chris put a guitar and also hung a jacket with "Made in Heaven" written on it, which is a reference to a song by the band Queen. Did he risk using the guitar in the presence of the Captain?

On holidays, he would often go to the suburbs with his teammates to drink, which sometimes caused riots. At that point, Chris was chaotic, but because of a difficult fate in the future, he had to tame his inner chaos.

All good things came to an end when contact was lost with Bravo's team in the mountains near Raccoon City. Alpha, meaning the team Chris was on, went to investigate and stumbled upon the Spencer's Mansion. But it wasn't an accident, it was just part of the plan of Wesker, their Captain. The mansion was only a cover for the Umbrella lab beneath it. All the inhabitants of the place had become mere shadows of their former selves, turning into zombies. In order for Chris to explore the building more safely, Wesker left supplies for him in some places, which may not be canon, but only a game convention. But this is quite normal for Wesker, he maintained the image of the captain until the very end.

When Chris caught Wesker off guard in the lab, he was finally convinced that his fears were correct... the captain was a traitor. But even knowing that, realizing how many squad members he ruined, when Wesker was mortally wounded Chris didn't hide his excitement for him. In the re1 remake Chris twitches in his direction, but then recoils. Chris has compassion even for those who betrayed him.

Chris lost many friends, including Wesker, during this assignment. And that day left a strong imprint in his mind. It was later dubbed «Mansion Incident». Something that divided the lives of many into «before» and «after» and began an endless nightmare.

Chris, Jill, Barry, Brad and Rebecca survived and took it upon themselves to figure things out. Upon their return, Chris reported the horrific incident to anyone who was willing to listen, but Police Chief Irons hushed up all the gossip, being under the thumb of Umbrella, not to mention that even the government refused to listen to what Chris had to say. Umbrella had too much influence for it to be that simple, but that only fueled the fire of Chris's fighting spirit. He went on «vacation» to Europe to do his own investigation without saying anything to Claire. Chris wanted to keep his sister out of danger, but there were consequences. Concerned about her brother's disappearance, Claire found herself drawn into the chaos of the fall of Raccoon City, where she met Leon Kennedy (events re2).

During his time at S.T.A.R.S., Chris saw his sister often and taught her shooting and combat skills. Thanks to her brother's attention, Claire learned the skills she needed to survive.

When Claire learned enough information about her brother and left the infected city, she traveled to Europe to continue her search for Chris, but found herself caught by Umbrella. She was sent to Rockfort Island prison, which was more like a concentration camp. (Code: Veronica). Thanks to information from Leon, who Claire managed to contact, Chris set out to help his sister. On the island, he encountered a few revelations - Wesker was alive for some reason, and he was also after some Alexia.

The former captain who got Chris's friends killed. The one who was presumed dead has once again cast a shadow over Redfield's life. Their fates intertwined.

Since Wesker's presence has been causing disasters as of late, Chris decided not only to find his sister, but also to investigate the situation on the island to prevent his new enemy from giving him what he was looking for. Upon meeting him, he discovered that the former captain was no longer human. Chris was only able to defeat him by stealth, suffering greatly in the process.

He eventually saved Claire, and they left the place together. Deep in his heart, Chris realized that Umbrella must cease to exist so that people like Wesker would disappear. So that unfortunate people would not repeat the fate of Steve (Claire's dead friend) and the people of Raccoon City.

In 2003, he traveled with Jill to Russia because of reports of infected people in that region. Their visit to a biological weapons factory ended with a victory over a new enemy, T-A.L.O.S., as well as the collapse of Umbrella, because now Chris and Jill had all the evidence against them. It was not without the help of Wesker, who had contributed to this collapse, because he wanted the same thing. Since then, Chris had become very attached to Jill, as if he was responsible for her life.

However, bioweapons and viruses have affected civilians many more times. That's why Chris and his partner joined the young BSAA organization to prevent the disaster in Raccoon City from repeating itself. In 2005 they were drawn into a conflict with the terrorist organization Veltro, in the investigation of which revealed unpleasant information about traitors in their (BSAA) ranks. There, by the way, Chris becomes the partner of a certain Jessica Sherawat, who is clearly partial to him, but he pretends that he does not notice the hints, softly rejecting the feelings of the future traitor. Inside BSAA, the leadership had to be changed, and that was the first seed of doubt that settled in Chris's mind. The first feeling of distrust for the place he was involved with.

Life continues to put Chris on the spot, forcing him to go on various missions with little or no time to rest. Thanks to the huge number of things, he has dedicated himself to, Chris is at the top of the organization. His endless hard work is summed up in his own phrase: «I'm Not Going To Stop Until I'm Dead».

Let's travel back to 2006. DLC for re5 «Lost in Nightmares». Chris and Jill go in search of Spencer, the last remaining bit of Umbrella, its founder. This man is responsible for many things and deserves to be punished, and could help them find Wesker. But when the partners arrive on a tip-off at his mansion, they find only a bloody corpse with their former captain standing over it. The latter in turn was displeased with the intrusion and immediately attacked them, during the fight Chris was caught off guard. A couple of seconds separated him from probable death. But Jill intervened and pushed Wesker through the window, she falling with him into the cliff. Chris could only watch helplessly as they fell, realizing that once again he had lost someone dear to him. Here Chris wonders for the first time if his struggle is worth it.

Jill's body was never found, and neither was Wesker's, so the former was pronounced dead. The empty grave with the headstone that had been erected in her honor was not deprived of Chris's attention. He probably went there often and grieved. What he swore over Jill's grave was unknown to anyone, but it made Chris investigate even more and put himself through even more training.

Since 1998, his body has changed a lot. Knowing that one day he would meet Wesker again, Chris diligently grew stronger, pushing his body to the limits of human capability so that he would be ready for anything.

What follows are the events of re5. In 2009, he travels to Africa to stop a bioweapons deal, where he meets his new partner, Sheva Alomar. Although they don't have the reliving of the past that they had with Jill, they hit it off well, thanks to which they accomplish a lot together. At the very beginning they encounter a new enemy, Majini, the same Ganados that Leon once encountered in re4, only from an improved version of the Plaga parasite. They also meet a virtually immortal mutant created thanks to the new Uroboros virus. After defeating him, Chris gets the data and learns that the deal was rigged to test this virus. In doing so, he lost several more of his men and painfully realized that if he had arrived on the scene a little earlier, his corpse lay with them. The data also contained a picture of a woman who looked strangely like the dead Jill, but with blonde hair. Chris secretly believed that maybe his old partner was alive.

Sheva was disappointed by the deaths of her comrades and frightened. Not wanting to put anyone else in danger, Chris asks her to leave him, but Sheva refuses. She assures Chris that they are partners until the end. Somewhere out there, her people are dying, so she can't drop everything and turn back and leave Chris alone. Then Chris tells her that he's on this mission for personal reasons. His former partner Jill may be alive and she needs his help, so they need to hurry before it's too late. To which Sheva agrees, not doubting her new partner's theory.

Eventually, after going through many trials, they came face to face with Wesker. He revealed that Jill had been with him the whole time, but was under a mind-altering drug. Jill, being zombified, fought on the same team as Wesker against Chris and Sheva. One of the dearest people to Chris had been enslaved for two whole years, which was beyond his mind with horror and sadness. He had almost buried her, almost given up looking for her, but Jill was literally under his nose, in a terrible situation. Struggling with his best friend and partner, Chris never stopped trying to get the truth into her head so she would recognize it, and he's succeeding.

Running away on urgent business, Wesker leaves Jill alone, forcing Chris and Sheva to fight her. During the fight, they remove the injector from her chest that was controlling her mind.

A disoriented Jill repents that she realized everything but couldn't control herself, to which her partners reply that they understand. Jill is back in action and off to the «Desperate Escape» DLC, while Chris and Sheva continue the main plot and head off on Wesker's trail. For Chris, this was already a personal vendetta. Having suffered so much loss through this man's fault, he would no longer be able to look Jill in the eye if he didn't stop him.

While searching for Wesker, the team encounters an Uroboros mutated Excella, Wesker's his ally, on whom Wesker decides to test the virus, to see if Excella will prove to be the «chosen one».

After an exhausting battle, the partners find the man they came for and decide to use the serum stolen from Excella. It is an injection that, under the right conditions, stabilizes Wesker's powers, but when overdosed makes him weaker. A weakened Wesker tries to flee to his plane, refusing to be confronted any further. His partners, who managed to climb with him, cause the plane to crash into an active volcano, where their final battle takes place.

Wesker, having lost most of his powers, finds himself in a difficult situation and decides to resort to overdosing on Uroboros. Against him, Chris and Sheva are once again at odds, but the fragile rock in the volcano plays into their hands, and Wesker falls ridiculously into the lava as the ground beneath him collapses.

This allowed partners to take advantage of his helplessness and fire the rocket launcher twice at the target. Although not shown, it is assumed that Wesker was killed.

After that, Chris finally realized what he was fighting for, realizing that his fight was worth the lives saved. Jill was sent to rehab after everything Wesker had done to her and didn't get back to normal until closer to 2015, causing Chris to change partners again. Chris wrote in his notes, «Defeating Wesker's undoubtedly a turning point for me. Due to this battle, I found the meaning behind what I'm fighting for».

In 2012, during the events of re6, Chris and his new partner, Piers Nivans, were sent to Edonia to prevent the spread of another bioweapon, but things didn't go quite as they expected. Another mission, another loss for Redfield.

At some point, he learns about Jake Muller and the fact that his life is in danger. After learning that he was Wesker's own son, Chris thought deep down, probably about the fate that has been intertwined with this man since the days of S.T.A.R.S.

At the very beginning of the mission, Chris loses almost his entire squad, once again convinced of the curse he carries behind him. And amnesia during the trauma incapacitates him for six months and Chris becomes an alcoholic.

In 2013, Pierce brings his captain back into the service, forcefully reclaiming unpleasant memories in order to continue the mission. The losses that Chris has suffered have affected him greatly, and he worries for the lives of every member of the squad, making foolish and rash actions that put him in danger. It is only after talking with Piers that Chris comes to his senses and becomes his old self again, because being gripped by fear you can't save anyone. And he really couldn't save anyone again, only the two of them survived.

After meeting Jake again, Chris confesses that he killed Wesker, his father, which leads to an argument in which Jake pulls a gun on him. Chris at this point says, "Go ahead, shoot. You have every right to. Just promise me you'll survive. The world depends on it." Jake shoots past and declares that there are more important things at stake than their problems. Chris probably feels guilty about him.

On a mission to protect Jake and many others, Chris and Piers have to face a new bioweapon, HAOS. Piers, sacrificing himself, becomes infected with the C-virus and forces Chris to save himself by being alone with HAOS. In doing so, he became another wound on Redfield's heart. Another loss on the account. Chris had planned to retire, lay down his weapons and turn everything over to Piers, but now he is forced to continue his service, thus honoring Piers's memory. Chris once said he would fight to the end, and he doesn't throw words to the wind.

2017, re7 events. Bakers and Mold incident, which Chris was unlucky enough to be involved in. He once again tragically lost all of his people. Once again, fate has struck a sore spot. And that seed of doubt that had settled in his mind back in 2005 finally blossomed. After this incident, Chris became even more distrustful of the BSAA, because they had hidden the incident from the public, which had never happened before. He formed his own Hound Wolf Squad, gathering people he could trust, and spent the next three years tracking down a certain mother Miranda, with absolutely no authorization from headquarters. He became an outcast in BSAA for this cause and for justice.

As Chris got older, he stopped acting impulsively and began to act more uncompromisingly, clearly following the plan regardless of any interference. He saw no obvious reason why he was obligated to inform Ethan of his next course of action before shooting his «wife» during dinner in 2021. He believed that Miranda would realize that Ethan knew something, so such sacrifices had to be made.

Ethan thought until the last minute that his wife was gone and the baby had been taken away. What loss and stress Ethan went through Chris didn't even take it upon himself to imagine. In the end, it turned out that it wasn't his wife at all, but Miranda, who had pretended to be her, changing her appearance at the expense of Mold's abilities. Chris's plan had gone awry from the start, but it could hardly have been worse if he had prematurely informed Ethan. From now on, Chris tried to keep random people out of his plans to minimize any potential casualties.

On this mission, for the first time, Chris didn't lose anyone from his squad, but he did lose a friend. Ethan died to protect loved ones, and it hit Redfield and his fear once again. He experienced grief and anger at the realization that he would never be able to save those whose lives he held dear. Perhaps he chastised himself for the mistakes he had made during this assignment. Blamed himself for not telling Ethan the whole plan beforehand. He had plenty of reasons to hate himself.

But this small victory over Miranda doesn't mean victory in the never-ending war against bioterrorism. On the way back, one of his squad discovers that the body of the BSAA soldier on their plane was a bioweapon. This is the last straw for Chris, and he decides to look into everything, which will most likely lead to a coup in the organization.

To summarize, Chris is sometimes hard to understand, as he hides his emotions and feelings under a meaningful silence. The kindly man who was the soul of the company, by 2021 looks as if he has lost all hope, but it still burns in him. Every dead person he failed to keep safe feels like they destroyed his heart. Christopher is a huge wound in the fandom that is not easy to heal. His storyline is likely coming to an end, which makes me sad to see Chris meet his old age in sadness and loneliness. At the time of re8 (2021), he's already 48 years old, which is a lot considering he's been fighting bioterrorism since he was 25. Has Chris ever thought of his own wants and needs since then? He has such dedication and concern for others that it seems as if he is completely oblivious to himself. With his endless responsibilities, it would be impossible to take a vacation, but there are indeed moments of calm, does Chris never rest?

On a more personal note, he has always treated his squads like family, "I know it is not any of my business, but I want you to think of us as a family... no matter how this all ends" (Philosophy University Incident 2010). Nothing is known about Chris' relationships, except for one non-canonical instance of dating a girl in «Viral Campaign». Apart from his living friends, he has no one else. It wasn't until Ethan's death that he found something resembling a normal life. Chris helped Ethan's wife raise and educate their daughter Rose, becoming an uncle and father figure to her. It is unknown if Chris ever returned to alcoholism after his amnesia, but I can assume it is unlikely. A lot of things happened to him during that period of his life that affected his view of the world. Surely he no longer allows himself to behave so recklessly, even in the most stalemate situation.

Interesting detail, Chris is constantly contrasted with Wesker, as if he's a better version of him. Both were Alpha squad captains, both have blood type 0, and were once the same weight class and same height. Probably the same eye color, as well as great weapons proficiency. Their encounters in re5 don't look like a fight, it's more like a dance between two people with equally good fighting skills. Sure, Wesker is much stronger than Chris due to his situation with the virus, but he never let himself use more strength than necessary to keep Chris fighting him, prolonging any fight with him. It's possible that Wesker's attempt to kill Chris in «Lost in Nightmares» is just a ruse, and he was going to toss him aside somewhere, as he never seriously intended to hurt him enough. Chris' age at the time of his last official appearance in re8 is 48, which matches Wesker's age at the time of his supposed death. Their conflict isn't over yet, so it's fully expected that Wesker survived and will once again surprise Christopher with his presence. They need to finish what they started, as adults and having already been through a lot. Without the pointless fights that the current Chris is unlikely to get into. There's no telling what the modern Wesker might be like, but if he's stayed in the shadows for so many years, it's not like he's planning to be too reckless either.

-------------------

Due to a misunderstanding, I would like to supplement my text. This analysis is only my personal interpretation and my personal view of the character and his story. I do not claim that it is 100% canon, because canon is so vague and disjointed that it is impossible to fully assemble it objectively. Everyone is entitled to have an interpretation different from mine. Best wishes to all!

[allmyocsarebritish]

Kiss, Maime, Kill - Chapter 2: The Louisiana Butcher

Pairing: Alastor X killer! fem reader

Warnings!!!: Reader is a serial killer, convinced she is in the right, descriptions of murder, it goes without saying but I really don't condone this, Al's surname in this is Altruist cause it's even more ironic, but yes I know that's not canon

Wordcount: 1k

1928

Louisiana, New Orleans

The partnership you forged with Alastor woke something inside you. In the year that had passed, you felt alive; quite possibly more so than you had in your whole existence. Killing became even more of a thrill, something you had previously thought to be impossible. But with someone to share in the sadistic glee, it was only natural you'd be even more enthralled with the act of slaughter. How strange it was to dream whilst awake.

Murder aside, Alastor himself was truly something else. He understood your twisted mind in ways you never thought would be possible, always reassuring and calm, even in the face of utmost danger. You became close, closer than you were to anyone else, a strong friendship that broadened beyond the constraints of a mere work acquaintanceship.

Therefore, the once fortnightly affair of serial killing became more frequent as time progressed. And, proportional to the increase in your escapades was the time in which the two of you spent together outside of 'work'. Long, leisurely strolls through the park as he rambled became the highlight of your day. There was something about Al's voice that soothed you; there was a good chance that you were the top listener to his radio show, tuning in daily and without fail.

Sitting by the radio, warm mug of coffee in hand, you fiddled with the dials, the exact pattern to Alastor's show ingrained in your memory. Twisting the knobs, it felt as natural as breathing. The radio whirred into life, Al's voice rang out, clear and comforting, like a peaceful white noise.

"Salutations, dear listeners! I say, it's so good to be back on the air." You couldn't help the smile that appeared in response to hearing as he spoke.

You listened intently as Al discussed recent news topics, and, though mostly mundane and repetitive, the host managed to spark interest in even the most boring affairs.

"Now my friends, I urge all of you to stay safe out there."

A sentence which sent shivers hurtling down your spine.

"Rumurs of another missing person have spread like wildfire, and, although we must wait for confirmation of the police report, there is good reason to suspect that this is the work of the illusive Louisiana Butcher."

The Louisiana Butcher. That was what the press was calling you. It all came from Alastor's idea of how to spice up the slaughter further.

*graphic description warning!!*

You leant over the body as you slowly sliced along the man's clavicle relishing in sadistic delight. Your breath came out in sharp pants as you stared into the soulless, unblinking eyes of your victim. Sweat plastered your hair to your forehead, the exertion straining your muscles as you paused to catch your bearings.

Behind you, Alastor chuckled darkly, applauding your lack of mercy.

"Well done, Cher, quite the display."

You basked in his praise, eyes gleaming with manic pleasure.

"Thanks, Al." You stood, wiping the knife on your prey's shirt and moving towards the shovel.

"Wait-" Alastor's gentle yet firm grip on your wrist was a surprise, sending a wave of adrenaline through you, matching the high you felt following a kill. What was he doing to you?

"Leave it." He smirked, a dangerous spark lighting up his eyes.

"And get caught? Oh, Alastor, don't make me laugh!" You smirked, though your smile dropped when he remained insistent.

"I'm serious, dearest. Don't you want to make this adventure so much more exciting?" Bastard knew your weak spot: your penchant for criminal adventure. "Give the law a lead in our case. It isn't like we're at risk of actually being discovered; it will just add to the thrill of the chase when we make the front page of the tabloids!" His hand took your own, his face bearing an expression only present as the aftermath of a brutal killing. But this time there was something else in the mix of those rarely heightened emotions: affection.

Alastor liked you more than be had initially expected to. At first you had been but a mere pawn in his game, an opportunity to deflect the blame should he ever slip up. But now? You were so much more than that. His partner in crime, his best friend, his moitié. (Louisiana Creole for better half)

~

True to Alastor's word, the two of you made the cover of the paper the following evening.

"The Louisiana Butcher. That's what they're calling us, Al. Oh isn't it just so exciting?"

He smiled at the clear rush of ecstasy flowing through your veins. "Quite."

You were sitting on the plush, brown leather sofa in his living room, two mugs of coffee on the small table before you. Leaning into him slightly more than you knew you should, his arm draped over the back of the couch, directly behind where you sat. The broadsheet newspaper you had picked up in the way over splayed across your laps, the two of you intricately studying page one, the title practically jumping out of the sheet.

"Alastor?" You asked after a moment's pause.

"Hmmm?"

"What do you think would happen if we were to be caught? Y'know, just in case." Something foreign weighed down your voice, fear.

Alastor folded the paper and placed it on the coffee table, turning to face you entirely. He took your chin between hos thumb and forefinger.

"Well, first of all, Cher, you needn't fret in the slightest. Not a single officer would ever suspect a pretty little thing like you as a cold blooded killer. And regardless, even if the whole world was against you I'd still proudly stand at your side, my darling." Your cheeks heated at the compliment, drawing a smile to your lips, reflected on his own.

"But what if you were suspected?" Al let out another laugh at your concern.

"Ha, ha! My dear, don't make me laugh! You know I wouldn't slip up in such a way!"

"You promise?"

"You have my word." He drew your knuckles up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to them.

"Thank you, Al."

"Whatever for?"

"For being here." You moved further into his side, to which he froze for a long moment before reciprocating.

"Not a problem in the slightest, Mon Cher."

[harryxmarvel]

Shatter my soul ~ Part - 2

Summary : Harry has been suffering from an addiction and y/n decides to take time for herself or based on this ask

Pairing: rockstarboyfried!Harry x reader!y/n

Warnings: Angst

My masterlist

Read part 1 here

I love you and I've loved you since the day I met you. I'm sorry i couldn't realise how to be better for you for us when you were here. You were the only one who struck by me through it all and now I'd do the same for you but there are some truths you need to know before. I swore to be honest and I wanna be that way with you because that's the least you deserve.

All those your friends tell you they hate me but they spend the nights you are out in my bed. I had no recollection of the first time it happened. After a particular hars session I was high and drunk i thought it was you but when she showed back two days later I didn't stop it. I should have I knew I should have but I didn't and I don't know why I didn't.

I don't even remember what happened the night before because I was that high. It think I needed osme kind of relief that the drugs couldn't give me or maybe i wanted to hurt you. I'm an arrogant son of a bitch and you shouldn't be with someone like me. You should be with someone who would treat you well and take care of you like you deserve to be. Everyone taught us to chase money for happiness but they have no idea what losing happiness is an that's what's I felt when you left me. The last ounce of happiness walking out of my life leaving me with nothing and I wanted it back because it was everything to be an di didn't even know it until I lost it.

But i was never that kind of happiness to you. You loved doing you job, you lived little things around you that brought you happiness but I wasn't one of them because all I ever did was hurt you.

I wish there will be a day when I get to the place to be someone you deserve. I'll come find you if I ever become worthy of loving you. Untill then if that ever happens I wish you all the happiness because that is all you deserve in this cruel world.

I will always love with my whole heart y/n.

Love, your H

*

I love sunsets, the beautiful hues of colours filling the cloudy sky. Driving out to the suburbs and watching the chemtrails with her little brother every weekend was y/n's favourite thing.

"Harry called me yesterday" he says as he munches his waffles they got on the way.

"He wished me for my birthday and asked about you" he says as he side eyes her trying to see her reaction.

Nate's birthday was ten days earlier but y/n did give harry credit that he had called.

It had been almost a year since she moved away from New York. All she had there were haunting memories she wished to forget. The sun sets as they sit on the back of the truck eating the food. After reading the letter y/n knew what she had to do. And that was to get away from there as soon as possible.

She couldn't believe she had trusted people who would do this behind her back. Y/n thought moving back home would help her mend her broken heart but after weeks of crying over the betrayal and hurt she was numb.

Harry was her home. She doesn't even remember her life before him. 11years through thick and thin all for nothing. She moved out on her own after three months and adopted a puppy to keep her company. She doesn't know she would ever get over him. Would people ever get over their first love. She didn't know but she knew it will be better. It's going to get better.

Harry had been clean since their breakup and she couldn't be more proud of him. They hadn't talked or seen each other in a year. All y/n knew was she was miserable without him. After reading the letter y/n had disappeared from all of her friends life and while they were worried and had spammed her phone like they care she never replied. How do you trust someone when every single person you had trusted had backstabbed you?

*

The city was beautiful after a rain. A chill in the air making harry hug his coat tighter as he walks around. He had been doing well. His next album was ready to be released in few weeks, he was clean for almost two years but the hole in his heart didn't seem to be mending. It only grew bigger every day he was away from her. He knew she wouldn't forgive him. He also knew she was it for him but now it has all gone the drain and he has to live the rest of his life without her.

He stops to get a coffee and his eyes spots a familiar face in the corner her beautiful laugh echoing through the cafe. He spots a blond guy sitting opposite to her and his heart sinks further. Right as he was about to leave y/n's eyes meets his and a smile grazes her features and Harry returns it as y/n turns her focus back to the guy she was talking. Harry is about to walk away when y/n gets up nodding at the guy before hurriedly walking out.

"Hi Harry" she starts and Harry engulfs her in a hug which y/n happily hugs back. God knows she missed his hugs. They just made her feel like she was finally home and safe

"god....I missed you so much, how have you been?" he asks a little hesitant.

"I'm all good, created a whole new life. think I needed the change..." She ends nothing wanting to sound like it was all his fault.

"I'm really really sorry y/n... you were the best thing that ever happened to me and I just can't believe-"

"h, it's okay. I've forgiven you a long time ago." y/n cuts in much to Harry's surprise to hear she had forgiven him. " so how have you been?"

"I have been good, pulled my life together. been sober for almost two years now."

"that's really great to hear h, im so proud of you" y/n says and Harry nods with a smile. It's a little silent as they both decide how to go further from this. harry was in over his head about losing her again because that is what he deserves after everything so he was ready to bid goodbye and leave her life for good but y/n spoke up before him "You wanna grab a coffee?" she asks pointing towards the cafe.

harry was glad to hear y/n still wanted him in her life and vows to never break her trust again and to win back her trust no matter what and y/n on the other hand is ready to try to mend their broken relationship. it will be slow progress but as they sit there laughing as they share their life like they used to they both knew that they will be okay.

A/n : I know you guys wanted Harry to beg to take him back but I made this as them realising they were meant for each other. And the begging gave me another idea for a one shot so see you there. Thanks for the ask anon 🫶🏻

[wordy-little-witch]

I absolutely adore your thoughts on Buggy and Sea Shanties. So I'd like to share an inspiration and a thought, Tale of the Shadow by Sail North.

What if that's the treasure Buggy seaked when he was younger and just as the lyrics he found it but the crew he put together was not loyal like his cannon lot so they where killed but the Shadow took a liking to Buggy after he survived. I'm imagining him flirting with the ship helped in that regard. Buggy captain of the Shadow.

Okay but that would he SUCH a good take. ((I love Sail North honestly you are fueling my obsession yesss)).

Consider maybe instead of Buggy actively SEARCHING for it, he stumbled across it. And the Shadow being less of a Prize To Be Sought and more of a grim omen, a harbinger of sea stories, among the many Buggy knows by heart.

His first crew, the ones cobbled together so soon after his first abandoned him - I'm honestly thinking they were sort of thrown together and Buggy took charge as he tends to do. And the rest fall in line at a surface level but only insofar as completing their goals. Buggy knows, he can see it, but really the only people he's ever had in his life who took him and his wants semi-seriously are dead or dead-to-him at that point. He doesn't care. It's a means to an end, he tells himself. He's using them as much as they're using him - no, he's using them more! In the flashiest of ways!!

And then they happen across a fog. And Buggy can Feel something out there that's Looking and Searching and Calling. He is absolutely not about that, no sir. He gives the orders to sail westward, navigating by the stars and not the log pose which is wobbling steadily to that Other Presence. The crew, if they can even be called that, are not happy with the order.

Buggy by this point is young still, maybe sixteen thereabouts at most, and he is the youngest on the ship. And the smallest. And seems the weakest.

He is not, the group learns terrifyingly quickly. He is thin, fast, skilled with a blade and smarter than he pretends to be. He's got experience under his belt and on his side against opponents bigger, stronger, better than him - and he's used to being outnumbered too.

The fight takes time and Buggy soon gets hit with a lucky shot, sending him sprawling to the deck and nearly crushed beneath ratty boots and cruel laughter. He is panting against the wood, straining to get up, to move, to fight or flee-

And he freezes.

The Presence is back and it's stronger than ever, right on top of them. It's only his resistance to Conquerors Haki which keeps him from so much as fluttering an eyelid under the sudden pressure choking the men and women alike on his ship.

Not many have the nerve to approach my hull with so little awareness.

Buggy goes still at the soft voice while the other's scatter, scramble, search for the interloper. They shout demands for the person to show themselves. Buggy merely pushes himself up enough to bow properly. That is no person, he knows, not in the way these bozos think.

There's a sudden whirl of air, rigging springing into motion, ropes and sails unwinding to snatch bodies and cut voices into choked gargling frenzies.

Buggy does not move. His head aches, his body sore, but his mind is racing over contingency after contingency. He needs to think, needs to figure out a way to survive this unholy clusterfuck of a situation-

He freezes as he catches a black intangible hem from his periphery.

A hand touches his head, soft despite the carnage swaying above by their will.

So small you are, little star, and yet so brightly you shine in the gloom...

A hand takes his chin, tilts his head up. Buggy squeezes his eyes shut.

Look upon me, star child.

"N-No," he declares decisively, though not impolitely. "It is disrespectful for mortals to meet the gaze of Spirits."

Ohhh, how bright you are, little star. What say the waves to my hull, what say the winds to my sails, that by which you are known?

He thinks for a moment, carefully, then answers. "I am called Buggy."

Oh, my sweet, my darling, how interesting you are, how clever, how wise for your sweet short years. By what means have the Fates forged a mind and soul like this? Such a gift to my heart, so intriguing.

"... what..." He licks his lips. "What say the sea, the winds, to that which you are called?"

... I am called many things, my junebug. But now? This Era knows me as The Shadow... but you knew that, didn't you?

"..."

Hm~ Yes. You will do nicely.

"What- aAA-!!"

Shhh, sleep, my sweet, let my love fill your pores and lungs. Dream sweetly under my spells and carry the blackened blessing of my Self with you into the Beginning and End. You, sweet Buggy, are destined for great things. I will carry you there, so long as you carry me in turn...

Buggy screamed into the wooden planks as blackness swallowed his senses, burning and baptizing his cells. The only thing he was aware of was the soft hand in his hair, the whispered assurances like dripping ink, and the pain.

Buggy was swallowed whole on a ship in the fog, cradled by a faceless being and guarded by corpses.

He awakens some time later on his ship, battered and damaged, dirty but warm under the warm, blazing sun. The rigging is damaged, the bodies gone. Buggy is alone, but, he finds sometime later, not unscathed. Staring back from the backs of his hands are two inky stylized emblems. The eyes stare into the air and space, offset by his skin.

He shudders.

He takes to wearing gloves.

He doesn't notice until weeks later that sometimes his shadow will smile at him, warm, loving, intelligent.

He learns more in the ensuing time, but not a word of it is ever breathed to another person.

One does not speak of deals with the fae, after all.

[gideonisms]

The thing about my parents is I will text them like "love you there's a potential gun incident" etc and then after the all clear and I'm home they will ask like. So how was the rest of your day. I....well, it was bad! Idk what you want me to say. Like the morale was low

[featherlouise]

Some tidbits about my Lamb!! I've been calling them Noori

Subject to change bc I'm VERY new to this fandom sjxbnxkcc

Transcript of my bullet points bc I've been told my handwriting is illegible lmao:

Beginning - Post Kallamar Fight

- Fueled by rage + spite

- Would NEVER direct their rage at their flock

-- Heretics are another story however

- Always looks vaguely pissed off

- Can put up a good front of 'peace' and 'perfection' to the flock tho

- (not all of them fall for it tho)

- First follower dissented

- The guilt led them to pay more attention + take better care of their flock

- Fleece was cut choppily by heretics for easy access to their neck

Silk Cradle Crusade - Nari Fight

- Forced to kill one of their followers by Shamura

- ENRAGED

- Beginning to realise that killing the bishops won't automatically make everything ok (i.e. they'll still be the last sheep)

- Being angry for centuries is taking its toll

- Their 'perfect leader' front is now IRON CLAD

- Only their disciples can tell something's wrong, and even they have no idea how to help

- Tired.

- Absolute MANIAC on crusades

- Keeps (most of) their fleece short

- One horn ring per marriage

- Most of their weddings have been to keep faith up in their flock

-- Their partners do get to see a more vulnerable side of them though

Stopped helping out w/ chores

- Focussed ONLY on crusades

- Can't keep this up forever (lmao bonus bullet point)

First Few Centuries of Godhood

- Tired of being angry

- Started helping out round the commune again

- Horns finally grew in!! (Late bloomer (+ stress didn't help lmao))

- Calmed down A LOT

- Their 'persona' is a lot more genuine nowadays

- There always used to be something behind their eyes (something that would light prey animals' instincts up like a BONFIRE)

-- Nowadays the have an effortlessly comforting aura about them

- Happy, despite everything

- Trying out this whole 'forgiveness' thing

- Nari does NOT make it easy

- Can't quite bring themselves to rescue the bishops yet

- ONE tantruming former god is plenty tyvm

[carlyraejepsans]

i don't think I've ever enjoyed a birthday party with friends as much as today i am genuinely getting a bit teary eyed

[flameswallower]

I'm genuinely very sad that twitter is slowly dying. There just aren't good alternatives for me-- this website and blue sky are the closest, but not only will trying to build a following be pretty exhausting, the culture on both sites is terminally square. Sorry, but it's true! In different ways; still, nevertheless.

The culture on twitter, conversely, was always a toxic waste pit, but in ways I generally found/find it easier to evade or ignore than most people seem to. Some of that is luck; some of it's that I'm white and not a woman or someone who reads to most people as a woman, and I don't get into direct arguments with transphobes, and so I evade the worst harassment brigades.

But I think a lot of it comes down to the same reason I prefer to hang out with overtly "mean" and "scary" people than with "nice" people sometimes. I would rather be in a situation where

1.) I know others can stand up to me and won't take any bullshit if I accidentally make them uncomfortable, overstep boundaries, etc.;

2.) conflict and disagreement will not be perceived as abusive or as The End Of the World, ditto if I have an Oops! It's the Autism/ADHD! moment and respond in a socially inappropriate way because I misunderstood a situation or couldn't control my impulse to say something/laugh at something I found funny;

3.) I need not fear that anybody will clutch their pearls and get on my case for being a little *~**edgy**~*, for existing as a sexual being, for using drugs, for describing things that have happened to me in the past, for writing horror fiction that sometimes deals with extreme or taboo subject matter, for not keeping myself scrupulously PG-rated the way I would around children when I'm with other adults, and/or for inadvertently saying something insensitive/ignorant that I later apologize for;

4.) my contrarianism gets to manifest as being kind and considerate and unusually patient/open/compassionate with people who are being jagoffs or are clearly disturbed or whatever, as opposed to manifesting in argumentative behavior, pushing boundaries, and telling people to go fuck themselves

Basically, I need to find the social media platform or subsection thereof that's equivalent to a group of goths and punks in a condemned building imbibing unwise chemical combinations and giving each other terrible stick-and-pokes of cartoon characters smoking weed or doing tijuana bible shit. One of the punks named himself a slur (it's okay, he can reclaim it). Several of the goths are sex workers. Practically everybody has been to the psych ward, jail, or both. A few people use it/its pronouns specifically as a fuck you to normies. One girl's clothes are filled with rats.

[syrcus]

wuk lamat and erenville are the new yda and papalymo. send post.

[dreamlogic]

quietly getting more & more annoyed at my housemate & her bf as the evening goes on. thought they were at his house this weekend but they showed up unexpectedly to have loud sex here, left for a little bit, came back in the middle of a fight, and are now watching tv really loudly in between continuing to totally-not-fight-everything's-FINE.