12 Works by halfcharacter
Listing Works
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Vincent is smiling, a lazy, really sexy kind of smile that’s making Gabriel’s brain liquefy into mush. God, he hopes he doesn’t look as dopey as he feels. Vincent’s teeth are imperfect. My teeth are imperfect too, Gabriel thinks. We can be imperfect together.
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A oneshot spinoff inspired by the events of art_snob's "If You Want It, Just Take It". Completely not canon to the main story. You should probably read that to understand this.
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Vincent Whittman was born for greatness.
He has plans. He’s going to escape the white picket fence future everyone has predestined for him, he’s going to climb his way up in the burgeoning realm of show business, and he’s going to rise higher and brighter until he’s the only one everyone will see.
He’s also going to kill his father. That last bit is proving trickier than the rest, but he’s got it all figured out. If he plays his cards right, everything will go his way.
Until it doesn’t, and Vincent is drawn into a chase that threatens everything he’s ever worked for, a pursuit that drags him around the world, following a shadow that systematically haunts and taunts him at every turn. What does this shadow want, really, and can Vincent outmaneuver him whilst balancing his own extracurricular activities? Only time will tell.
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torturous electricity between both of us by halfcharacter
Fandoms: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)
23 Nov 2025
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Vox’s knowledge of fabrics stops at knowing that there are suit jackets and there are suit jackets, and he leaves the tailoring to other people who know how to make him look good in front of the cameras, cinched in all the right places to have the mindless masses drooling and gagging for him when he does his live shows. Yeah, he likes a good suit. He likes the way they make him look hot. Which he is. He’s fucking sexy. He’s the sexiest motherfucker in hell, he saw the results of that poll—didn’t even have to create that one himself, he’s pretty sure Katie had a hand in that—
Remember the time you and Alastor went to the tailor? his brain supplies, and his thoughts grind to a startling halt.
Wait, what? Why did he think of that all of a sudden?
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or: Vox's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
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Le Vesconte pushes him through the tent flap.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, low enough so that only Sol can hear him, as they round the corner to see Hickey, arms bound and smirking like he was off to the races, “I don’t blame you.”
A man, Sol thinks, as he steps up to the gallows, Hickey beside him and Le Vesconte behind him. All officers are men.
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Zagreus is the god of nothing, or so he thinks. He’s fine with this, until he’s not.
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ends of smoky days by halfcharacter
Fandoms: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
18 Jul 2020
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They have duels in his head, sometimes, as if his head wasn’t already a fucked-up battleground of paranoia and self-hatred. The Glenn of his memory and the Glenn of his memory, and which one wins depends on how many bruises Sylvain is sporting that day and how utterly hollow he feels inside, sitting behind the stables so Seteth doesn’t find him, drinking wine he smuggled into the monastery until he blacks out.
He doesn’t want to talk about it with Ingrid, because the Glenn of Ingrid’s memory is infallible, carefully placed upon a pedestal (and doesn’t he do that too? what a hypocrite), and he also doesn’t want to talk about Glenn with Dimitri, who seems as though he is going to sink right through the floor sometimes with the weight of his self-imposed guilt.
And Felix?
Well, Felix.
[a piece for Sincerity: A Sylvain Gautier Zine]
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we to the gods by halfcharacter
Fandoms: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
20 Jan 2020
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"As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods,
They kill us for their sport."
- King LearOr: hair, and all its connotations.
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listen to how great my heart is by halfcharacter for besselfcn
Fandoms: Overwatch (Video Game)
22 Jul 2019
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There’s a spider busy starting a web in the corner of their kitchen window, above the plants. A new lodger who moved in overnight it seems, since Lena doesn’t remember ever seeing it there before. She briefly considers grabbing the paper towel and squishing it, but something in her stops at the thought.
Maybe it will eat all the damn fruit flies, she thinks, and promptly forgets all about it.
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Ever since the fall, sleeping had not come easy.
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He pulled off the mask. Wisps of thick black smoke seeped into the air, slick and oily. He tried to clear his throat.
“Gabriel Reyes.”
It sounded wrong, like he was breathing life into a man long dead; like he was part of some unholy arcane ritual to summon a ghost that would tear the world asunder. Names had power. He knew that to be true. Names had power, and this one more than most.
[a piece for The Reaper Zine]
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A game of probability and odds, or chance?
Cards in one hand, glass in the other. Jesse leans back, considering his chances. He swirls the liquor around gently, admiring the warm tones of it in the light. Downing it all in one go, he drops the glass onto the velvet with an audible thud and flicks the chips in with the same hand.
Swallow, drop, flick. Three nails in his coffin, if he was wrong.
[a piece for CLASSIFIED: A Blackwatch Zine]
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A collection of Overwatch drabbles prompted by friends, taken from this drabble list.