#Afterlife and those who work the shifts

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

The Rival

Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentegram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?

(Just some practice at writing drama but I hope you enjoy)

You weren't stupid. You knew that Alastor would call upon you only because he needed a warm body to ride out his rut and not out of any naive sense of romance. Every few months you'd receive an unsurprising visit from the Radio Demon casually resting in your hotel room before whisking you off for a vigorous week of reliving both of your heats. His earthy pheromones having triggered your own. It was usually obvious when Alastor would arrive because you could always feel fiery red eyes on your form and often noticed a dark presence shifting around in your peripheral vision. Of course, this would have freaked you out but it was also nice that you didn't have to go out of your way to avoid the numerous male cervid demons suffering through their own rut cycles of the season. Having never seen another female deer demon, you realized you were probably in for a bad time if one of those desperate bastards got a hold of you. So you didn't mind a little extra security as you went about your business. 

The very moment you walked through your door, an almost overwhelming scent of a warm, mossy, musk invaded your senses as waves of static washed over you. "Ah, there's my pretty doe. How was your day out my love?", Alastor greeted you in his typical cheery voice that made your heart flutter, but you knew the sweet-sounding pet name was only a product of his possessive manipulation. He knew very well how you reacted to his charm and he had no qualms about using it to gain your sexual compliance. "Oh, you know, quiet as Hell can be." You sat across from him on an armchair and smirked at the bittersweet domestic feeling as his shadow appeared next to you with a tea cup and a small bowl of sugar cubes. You scratched its shadowy scalp with gratitude as you took the offered drink, "And thank you for the company lately", you cooed to its delighted purrs. 

Alastor cleared his throat to get both of your attention as he began, "Yes, well”, he suddenly appeared in front of your chair and bent down to your eye level, "your protection would prove much easier if you would simply make a deal with me so that all of those pathetic weaklings would know who you belonged to." You didn't miss how his voice deepened into a static-filled threat but that didn't stop you from brushing away his outstretched hand as you stood up to put away your things. Of course, Alastor had been trying to get you to agree to a deal since the beginning of your...relationship(?), however, you had seen and known many people who deeply regretted making a deal with him. You knew he only wanted the same thing as every other cervid guy, regardless of how you felt about him. He didn't want a mate to love and protect. He wanted to possess the rare commodity of a breedable doe for himself.

 "I don't belong to anyone, Alastor.", you snapped, "You already give me protection from other males in exchange for my working you through your heat." He let out a dismissive chuckle when you shimmied your ample chest, but you saw the slight blush creeping across his face at the visions likely dancing through his mind. 

God, sometimes you wished there were more women deer around so that you could just live your fucking afterlife in peace. (But then, what if you'd never met Alastor and he had found another to see his ruts through?)

***

As you both headed downstairs to dinner, Alastor more so following you as was his habit during the season, you could hear Charlie loudly speaking to someone.

"Great! Well let's head o-", she was cut off by your entrance into the lobby which revealed a large figure sporting an impressive set of thick antlers. You could feel Alastor stiffen and tighten his hold on your shoulders. The scent of the visitor told you why. It was definitely another male deer, also nearing his heat like Alastor, and it was obvious that he must've followed your feminine smell here. Charlie began to walk towards you with a large smile, "Oh, hey there! I was actually just about to show our newest guest", she gestured in the stranger’s direction, "a tour and I'd love you to join us as other deer demons." She had a hopeful bounce in her step, "This is James.", who nodded and began to look you up and down with intensity. 

"Yes, I'm very interested in what your hotel may offer, Ms. Charlie." He was wearing a loose-fitting flannel shirt with his sleeves rolled up and a pair of worn jeans, but you could tell that he was absolutely jacked. His forearms alone looked like freaking tree trunks and he was easily taller than even Alastor with an equally enticing scent that made your stomach flip. James had begun to move further in your direction, however, a loud growl ripped through the lobby as ear-splitting static made everyone turn to its source behind you. 

"I'm afraid we've no vacancies at the moment.", he snarled, "Allow me to escort you towards the exit." Alastor had already begun to grow into his demonic form and used his shadow tendrils to violently eject the large buck onto the front lawn before anyone could make a sound. 

Charlie quickly darted after the two males, followed by you, only to be confronted by an impossibly odd sight. James stood tall without a scratch or sign of fear on him in the face of a giant, demonic Alastor. He even looked like he was all too happy to clap back with a strong, demonic aura of his own. However, the princess halted Alastor's intended strike with a burst of flames and a disappointed comment at his attitude towards a potential guest. And immediately apologized to James as she whirled around him checking for injuries, but none were to be found. 

Did Alastor take it easy on this guy? Why? He's always simply killed potential rival suitors, this one in his territory no less, so, why was he still alive?!

Charlie returned to the lobby, leading James by his massive arm, and proceeded to ask, a very pissed-looking, Alastor to fix the now broken doors as she led the two of you on a tour of the hotel. You could feel both James' smile and Alastor's silent rage boring into the back of your head as you walked with a clueless Charlie.

***

The intense air of murderous intent in between the two male cervids had only gotten worse over the next week after freaking deer Paul Bunion was placed in a room next to yours, which was across from Alastor’s. Charlie thought you'd be able to better connect another deer demon and maybe help him if needed, though she had no idea about the conflict she had placed in your lap.

James commented, during a group share circle, that he assumed that he was a Canadian reindeer, who was relatively new to Hell. He also made it clear that he simply didn't know, or care, who the Radio Demon was. The two constantly locked horns, both physically and metaphorically as the countdown to the rutting season was running out. You also found out through Angel Dust that Alastor was absolutely forbidden from using his power to injure a resident of the hotel. 

Which you assumed was why he didn't simply wipe James off the concrete outside like a pancake off a hot griddle. 

However, this didn't stop Alastor from staking his claim on you in other ways. For instance, he always had to have a hand on you somewhere. On your knee during group talks on the lobby couch, on your shoulder while you ate a meal, and on your lower back when he walked you from room to room. James didn’t seem to give too much of a fuck as he frequently kept at your other side and proceeded to continuously compliment you, give you small gifts, or make a particularly chapped joke that you couldn’t help but giggle and blush at. Of course, that usually resulted in being pulled closer into Alastor’s side away from the other male as he snarled and rubbed his face into your hair to try and mark you with his scent.  

You couldn’t lie. You very much enjoyed the attention of the two strong males as they vied for your affection and mating rights.

One early morning, while Alastor was forced to leave your side, in order to attend an overlord meeting, James found you in your rose garden behind the hotel and offered to help you plant your new buds. After a few minutes of digging and placing the rose roots, he spoke up, “Can I ask if youse and Alastor are an item?”. He smiled at your blushing expression and continued, “Not to offend ma’am, but I’d like to show you what a true buck is.”

Your eye twitched a bit at the insult towards Alastor, but you remained calm, “It's… complicated between us.”. James simply leaned in and smiled encouragingly, “Alastor isn’t exactly into relationships, but he takes care of me during the rut season.” 

“What about the rest of the time?”, he asked while bringing his face practically an inch from yours, “Does he make you feel like the forest queen you are? Or does he simply forget you until he needs something from you?” His steel eyes brightened in victory at your affirming face toward his questions, “I-I…um…”, you tried to defend your reasons for continuously coming back to Alastor again and again even though he couldn't care less about you during the rest of the year. 

He held your hand tenderly in one of his, while also cupping your cheek with the other and whispered, “Let me give you what you deserve, sweetheart. Love not possession. Tenderness, not indifference.” You were so absolutely enthralled by his deep voice and his potent musk that you could only stare blankly as he finally leaned in and softly pressed his lips against your own.

***

Hey, Again this is just some drama and relationship writing practice for a beginner class I'm taking.

-SSPR

[dragonsareverycool]

A Brothers Reunion

The small summoning circle lit up, casting a soft green glow, as two eyes watched it with weary hope.

——————————————————

Two demons argued violently about a soul, and Danny sighed from his spot on the throne that fully claimed him a month ago. While he still found it hilarious how thoroughly this guy managed to swindle so many of the high ranking demons, it had started to cross into annoying territory. Danny was seriously considering making a whole office dedicated specifically to hold all the paperwork one ‘John Constantine’ was seemingly generating with his very presence. Suddenly, Danny felt a soft tug on his core, much gentler then the summoning rituals of all those crazy cultists that keep popping out of nowhere used. More like the circles he gave to Sam Tucker or Jazz. But he could feel the summoner’s emotions, and the poor guy on the other end felt like he was about to cry.

Danny mentally went through everyone he’s given his personal line to. Then, he shot up and called for Fright Knight to send the demons away while Danny quickly allowed himself to be pulled through the summoning circle to where his brother waited anxiously.

——————————————————

The circle flared, and a large eldrich like figure quickly crawled through. Then, a very familiar voice muttered

“Man I wish these things weren’t so dramatic. I already scared the shit out of the justice league because of it” as the being’s form shifted to the more familiar form he took when seeing Damian for the first time in a decade. His white hair looked a little longer now, and his eyes a less toxic green.

“Danyal” Damian said stiffly. Danny looked up, making eye contact with Damian before responding

“Damian” in response Damian lunged, pressing a blade to Danny’s neck before asking a question only Danny could answer.

“What’s the last story you told me?” Danny simply smiled nostalgically,

“There’s the Damian I know. I told you about Canis Minor 16 days before I died the first time.” Damian heasitated before putting away his weapon and paused before he quickly started to hug Danny, who returned the hug.

“… first time?” Damian asked, still in Danny’s arms.

“Mother didn’t tell you what happened to me after, did she?” Danny asked into his twins hair. Damian didn’t even bother to say anything and just turned his head to look at Danny balefully, before Danny sighed and said

“Of course she didn’t. I was dunked into the Lazarus pits, before mother dropped me off in the middle of nowhere America, where she forbade me from ever talking about my old life or ever attempting to contact you.” Damian paused to process this, before saying

“And the second time?” Danny sighed at that, his face set into a grimace. Damian started to move, bringing Danyal over to his bed, where Danny realized Damian had summoned Danny in his room. Damian sat them both onto his bed, and curled further into Danny’s arms, while gesturing to continue.

“I was adopted by a couple who claimed to be ‘ectobiologists’ who already had an older daughter named Jazz. She’s my sister.” Damian nodded solemnly at that, mentally adding ‘Jazz’ to his list of siblings. Danny pulled out his brick of a phone and started showing Damian pictures of his adoptive parents, his sister and everything else as he spoke about it. “They’d been working on a project in their lab since before they adopted me, longer then they’re had Jazz even. When I was fourteen, they finally tried to turn it on. It failed. It was a portal to what they called ‘The Ghost Zone’, but that realm is much more. The Infinite Realms are the glue that holds all universes together, and its a kind of afterlife. They didn’t know half of that, only that some souls of humans who died stay there, and even then, they thought that these ghosts were only a husk of their former selves, and couldn’t feel pain.” Damian started to connect the dots at that and asked

“You’re one of these ghosts?” It was almost a statement, but Damian wasn’t going to make many assumptions. Danny nodded before continuing

“I had two friends who convinced me to show them the failed portal. I walked inside of the portal we assumed was completely defunct, and I tripped over one of the many wires on the floor. When I tried to stabilize myself, I hit the on button.” Damian’s eyes widened, and he froze while Danny paused. After a moment, Danny continued, saying “My adoptive parents had connected the portal to the towns power grid, and the portal opened up on top of me. Electricity and ectoplasm, what ghosts and the Infinite Realms are made of, clashed inside my body, killing me and reviving me repeatedly until the portal finally spit me back out. I only half died that day.” Danny put his phone away and focused on playing with Damian’s hair. Damian reveled in his brothers affectionate touch like when they were small.

“Half?” Damian asks after a minute or two.

“Half. I technically have several ghost forms, and I have a human form” Damian looked up from Danyal’s arms, his eyes asking the obvious question he was a little afraid to ask, though he’d never admit it. Danny smiled at the unasked question, and rings of light formed around him, before dissipating and revealing a very much alive eighteen year old Danyal Nightingale. He grabbed one of Damian’s hands and pressed it against his neck, allowing Damian to revel in feeling his former dead brother’s pulse. Damian tested Danny’s wrist, and put his ear against Danny’s now warm chest.

Damian will deny the appearance of tears to his death, but Danny didn’t say anything, he just held Damian closer. After a while Danyal started to talk about the stars. Filling the silence with quiet but passionate rambling about stars and space. It was familiar. It was safe and warm and then Richard ruined the moment by slamming open Damian’s door yelling about a ‘Family Game Night’ and got a knife for his troubles. Of course he dodged with practiced ease, but then he realized Damian wasn’t alone in his room. Time seemed to freeze at the stand off. Dick had frozen, as the joy on his face seemed to leach away at the realization that there was an intruder.

[sserpente]

A Haunted Read (Kinktober #1)

You are certain the library you work in his haunted. However, you are not certain ghosts can cast green magic and tease you like that...

A/N: Request by @blackwidownat2814. This request is so old, I’ll go stand in a corner and be ashamed of myself. *clears throat* On another note… Happy Kinktober! It’s my favourite time of the year and I’ve got a bunch of spooky and/or kinky Imagines ready to go this year! Starting off strong with Loki, have fun reading! ;)

Words: 2019 Warnings:  ghost!Loki (sort of), smut

You were certain the library was haunted. You were not imagining things. You could hear it. Every single night. A mischievous chuckle, a dark giggle, right after whatever spirit had made itself comfortable in your workplace wreaked some havoc when you were trying to get through your shift.

The concept of a library that was open twenty-four hours a day wasn’t so unusual but it could have done with some more marketing. You were alone most of the time, sorting through books, listening to music, and handling returns left over by the day shift.

Working at night was refreshing. Regardless of the ghost haunting you, you already had the story of a lifetime to tell to your future children (or well, pets). Your boss didn’t want to believe you when you claimed that Thor, the Thor, and his brother Loki had visited the library two weeks ago, searching for a rare tome for a super-secret Asgardian mission.

A selfie with Thor (and Loki rolling his eyes in the background) was now your new profile picture on all of the social media platforms you were on.

Thor was just as righteous and warm as the media portrayed him. Loki was…something else. Cautious, quiet, snarky and to be frank, condescending. Not to mention he’d been the one to show up first, catching you reading a very steamy romance novel. Damn those gods and their quiet footsteps.

You bit your lower lip and rolled a trolley filled with books to your desk. At the end of the day, strangely enough, Loki had fascinated you even more than Thor had. After everything that happened in New York all those years ago, vigilance around his person was a given. But there was more to him than that, you were certain of that. After all, Thor kept him around for a reason, right?

In all honesty, he reminded you a little of those brooding and morally grey men in the books you liked to read. Cold on the outside but a good heart hidden beneath…right? His blue gaze had lingered on you just a little too long. It was captivating, mesmerising, stunning, breath-taking…it was hard to believe it was Thor who captured all the women’s hearts. Loki was not only handsome but also mysterious. He was your perfect book boyfriend and you had not just once caught yourself imagining him as the male protagonist in your latest erotic adventure.

A chuckle. You rolled your eyes. “Who is there? Show yourself!”

Silence. Of course. You hadn’t expected anything else. Except—

You flinched when the neatly stacked books on your desk scattered to the carpeted floor. You groaned. “Seriously? I just sorted through these!”

Perhaps you should have been worried about a poltergeist keeping you company at this time of day, alone and surrounded only by rows and rows of books, especially this close to Halloween. But then again, you had nothing to fear from the dead. The living were much scarier than anything a poltergeist could come up with.

Another chuckle.

“Really funny… You know if you’ve got something to say, say it. Maybe I can help you move on to the afterlife or something like that…” You bent over to pick up the books when you spotted a green hue flickering across the edges of some of the books, almost as if whatever had moved them still lingered on the covers.

Great. Ghost goo. Time to call the Ghostbusters.

Hopefully, the rest of your shift was going to be peaceful. You sighed, stacking the books yet again. They had to be re-labelled and some of them needed a new protective cover. If you got this done now…and the library remained this empty…you’d have enough time to finish that sexy Halloween novel you’d been reading.

After all, that was the best part of your job. It was heaven to get paid for reading. So you got to work, listening to some music to drown out the repeated chuckles. At least nothing else went flying for now. Although you couldn’t quite shake the constant shivers running up and down your spine. It was as if your body sensed another presence.

You didn’t hate it—but you didn’t like it, either.

Three long hours later, as you rolled your neck to ease some of the tension, you were done. The trolley was empty, the returns list was updated, all the books were re-labelled…and you finally had time for the steamy romance novel waiting for you on the desk.

After making some tea in the staff room, you made yourself comfortable in the surprisingly cosy desk chair and got lost in your story.

Your protagonist was about to be seduced by a handsome demon looking to devour her soul—of course, they’d eventually fall in love in the process. She was dreaming, half-awake, and then…experiencing sleep paralysis. The girl had gone to bed naked, making it even easier for the demon to tease her into oblivion.

Damn, this was hot. You could feel yourself growing wet, arousal rippling through you.

You flinched when something tugged at your hair. You flipped around. There was no one there.

The demon in the book pulled back the covers, revealing the girl’s glistening pussy to its greedy gaze.

Something tugged at your clothes. “What the…” Flailing, your eyes scanned your surroundings. Nothing. This was the first time this ghost was touching you. This…shit. “Stop it! Let go of me!”

Perhaps if you ignored it…you bit your lower lip, lowered your gaze, and kept on reading in an attempt to block the spirit out. No one liked to be ignored, right? Maybe it just wanted attention like a toddler. Or a pet.

The demon stuck out his long tongue and licked over the girl’s cunt, lapping at her juices.

It was just then you noticed that green hue of energy again, disappearing…underneath your skirt. Your eyes widened.

“W-Wait, no, what…what is…” Trying to press your legs together did nothing. The energy remained, forcing itself…you gasped.

“What are you doing? What’s happening, what are you…oh.” It did not wait for you to finish. The energy pressed up directly against your clit. A moan escaped your lips. No…no, this wasn’t supposed to feel good, what was it doing?

I-ignore it…just ignore it…just…ignore it…

The girl in the book whimpered, her legs falling open wider against her will. And then…so did yours. Fuck… You should be scared. Terrified. Instead…instead all you could sense was excitement.

You stopped reading, desperate to catch a glimpse of that green hue again…only for it to disappear. Damn it. Disappointment should be the last thing you’re feeling. And then, as soon as you brought your gaze back to the pages of your book, the pressure returned.

Oh. Oh my. Did…did the spirit want you to keep reading? And only then would it…

No. Oh no. You should not be playing this game. This was bad. Wrong. Maybe it wasn’t even a spirit after all. What if it was an incubus? What if it’d feast on your pleasure and steal your energy, your soul even in the worst-case scenario?

You bit your lower lip when the pressure intensified, sneaking its way past your drenched lips and…inside you as if to distract you from your worrying thoughts. Fuck…you’d never felt so…so full. How was this even possible?

Finally, the girl in the book opened her eyes only to find the handsome demon hovering directly above her the very moment he thrust up into her, claiming every single inch of her. And with every line you read…the invisible force working your own arousal kept stroking and teasing your pussy as if it’d done so a million times before. You couldn’t help it. You pictured Loki to be the demon seducing this girl.

Fuck it. Whatever this experience was, now was not the time for fear. You could be scared later and be horny now.

Growing hotter with every minute, it got harder and harder to focus on the text. You climbed the ladder fast, the mysterious energy pleasuring you better than any of your toys could. If it kept going, you would…you would…oh…

“I’m coming!” you yelled out, grateful that you were alone—save for the naughty ghost having its fun with you. You clenched around the energy force as you hit your climax, bliss unlike any other rippling through you. You dropped your book, your nails digging into the armrests, your head thrown back.

Your little poltergeist took its time. It did not let up until you’d come down from your high, your senses and dreadful realisation at what you had just let a ghostly appearance do to you washing away the last waves of pleasure.

And yet…you had never come this hard. If anything…this had been the most mind-bending orgasm of your life. You wanted to experience that again. You wanted to experience it again.

But, as the force slowly retreated and the green hue evaporated into nothingness, you figured it would be stupid to beg it to come back and give you more.

One thing was for certain, however. You could not, under any circumstances, let anyone ever know what had just happened to you.

The next evening remained uneventful. At first. No ghosts, no flying objects, no invisible hands forcing you to come for them. You were about to continue reading that faithful book from last night when all of a sudden, the main doors of the library opened and two now all too familiar figures walked inside.

Thor and Loki.

“Hey, you two! Any progress on your ancient Asgardian tome?”

You were quite flattered when Thor remembered your name and they both greeted you. Thor with a friendly “Hello”, and Loki with a curt nod. “No luck so far. But we have a new lead. Would you mind if we took another little browse?”

“Not at all, take your time. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Thor smiled and nodded before he walked off, straight toward the history and mythology section. Loki, on the other hand…lingered a little longer in place than he probably should have. God, even how he was standing there, lurking, observing you with those scrutinising blue eyes…he was grace personified.

“C-Can…can I help you?” you asked.

Loki smirked. “I was hoping you might be able to help me find some…lighter literature. To pass the time so to speak.”

“Uh…sure. W-what…” Oh, get it together! “What kind of literature were you thinking about?”

“I have an affinity for romance. Perhaps something along the lines of…what you read last night.”

Your face fell when he flicked his wrist and steamy erotica resting on your desk chair practically flew into his hands—enveloped in green mist.

Oh. My. God.

You didn’t get to respond. Not that you knew what to say anyway. Thor came rushing back to the front desk with an odd-looking compass in one hand and another really old book on settlements in Norway in the other.

“Loki! Loki, I think I found what we’re looking for. That thing Strange gave us is spinning like crazy, look!”

Loki didn’t look. His eyes were locked with yours still, his smirk never letting up. Fuck. Me.

“Are you quite alright, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he mused.

You gnashed your teeth, resisting the urge to growl.

Thor gave you a puzzled look. Shit.

“N-no. I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Right…” Thor began, “…we’d like to borrow this one.”

“S-sure…” Snapping yourself out of it, you took the book from Thor’s hands and scanned it before handing it back to him.

“Thank you! That will be all. Come on, Loki, stop terrifying the poor girl.” Thor gave you one last friendly smile before he made his way towards the exit.

“It was lovely to see you again, pet. I can’t wait to see what book you are going to read next,” Loki said before he turned on his heel and followed his brother, leaving you behind dumbfounded.

So he had intentions to return. Fuck…you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want him to.

[popamolly]

‘ INTERNAL REDEMPTION ’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. In the fiery depths, she captures the attention of Lucifer, who senses a unique purity in her soul. With his help, (Y/N) finds herself on the path to redemption and self-discovery with dangerous trouble along the way.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, she/her pronouns, valentino exists, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder

author’s note. inspired by @punching-pentagrams and their amazing ongoing story “Love In as Hopeless Place”, it encouraged me to write my own fic about Lucifer. go check out their story, it is so good and deserves more love!

In the dimly lit, pulsating world of Club Elysium, where the air was thick with anticipation and desire, a mysterious aura surrounded a captivating figure on the stage. Under the flickering neon lights, you moved with a mesmerizing grace that defied the earthly realm. Dressed in glistening attire that caught the reflections of the vibrant hues around her, you became an ethereal presence, drawing the attention of every gaze in the room.

Your movements were a dance of contradictions – an alluring blend of sensuality and innocence. You twirled and swayed to the rhythm of the music, casting a spell upon the enchanted audience.

Unbeknownst to the patrons of Club Elysium, you were more than just an exotic dancer seeking to enthrall with her physical prowess. Your celestial grace, forgotten in the afterlife coil she now inhabited, manifested in the subtle elegance of her performance. As you moved, you felt a distant echo of a certain purpose, an inexplicable connection to something beyond the neon-lit stage.

In the hazy ambiance, Valentino, the enigmatic owner of Club Elysium, watched from the shadows, his eyes reflecting one of red burning lust, but it was more than just lust for you— no, it was something more— it was a thirst for power that had him grinning from ear to ear. Valentino knew that in this corner of Hell he owned everything, even you.

As the music reached its crescendo, your dance reached its zenith. The room held its breath, suspended in a moment where hell and celestial intertwined. You were always the ballerina in the jelwery box, the beautiful antique that Valentino had in his grasp to show off and praise. Though he may own you outside the building you made sure to show him through your dancing, that you were the one that owned the stage. He hated when you went off script or changed the choreography but you made sure to do it on purpose and on nights you knew he was watching you.

That was your little dose of rebellion, a little taste of freedom you could only wish to have. You were content with your situation though, it could’ve been worse. At least with Valentino you were paid, clothed, and feed with an overall decent place to live. Being one of his toys had its perks— you couldn’t complain. Especially when there were those who had it so much worse than you.

“You jus’ love angerin’ him, don’t you doll?” Your coworker, Angel Dust, asked as you entered the dressing room that you and the other dancers shared. The smell of makeup and cheap perfume filled your senses, calming you with the sense of familiarity, “Cause last I checked, that wasn’t what we rehearsed.”

“Well,” You chuckled as you sat on the couch, its fabric ripped and white stuffing nearly popping out the sides, “I just thought that my choreo was better, and by the sound of that crowd and the money on stage, it was.”

“Heh,” Angel couldn’t help but envy your confidence when it came to Valentino, who owned you both in more ways than one and yet you always found a way to yank on the chains without consequence. A part of Angel loathed you for it.

You could sense the mood shift in Angel, not that you cared but you weren’t exactly heartless either. With a sigh, you get up from the couch, ignoring your aching feet as you join Angel’s side, looking into the vanity mirror so you could touch up your makeup, “Trust me, if my act wasn’t purity and innocence it would be a different story. Lucky for me, bruises and marks on my body wouldn’t sell too well.”

“Yeah, count it on luck shortcake.” With that Angel left, pushing another girl out the way angrily while snatching the drink out her hand. You could only sigh, not intending on upsetting him more but as always, your intentions don’t matter when your words spoke otherwise. It had been so long since you had a decent human connection, you were just a bit rusty.

“My sweets,” The sudden sound of Valentino’s voice had the room go silent, the air becoming so thick you were sure you’d might suffocate in it, “Can I have the room please?”

With hushed scared whispers and nervous glances, you and the other girls make your way to the door. You had hoped you could sneak past him under the cover of the other women who all but rushed passed Valentino but his slender hand caught your forearm quick, gripping it with such force that you were slightly shocked by the pain he caused— it wasn’t like him to be rough with you, “Not you, darling. We have to have a chat, don’t we mio caro?”

You turn to look at him with a frown, “About what? My performance?”

“Oh I would love to talk about that little stunt you pulled but I need you for something a bit more important,” Valentino yanks you further into the room, locking the door behind him with his other hand before slinging you against the vanity, bottles of perfume falling over and onto the ground as the desk shakes violently. Your employer towers over you with ease making you shudder beneath his fiery gaze, “I need something done and I need it done right, I trust that you can accomplish this task, yes?”

What shit was he getting you into now? You were done with porn, you had paid a hefty price to alter your contract with him and you weren’t going to slip back into the void now, not when you were so far ahead, “I won’t be one of your pornstars, Val. We had a deal.”

Valentino laughs, his pointy fingernail dragging along your cheek while he licks his lips, “This isn’t about that principessa, this is a more delicate matter. Think you’re up for it?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” You yank your head away from his hands, lowering your gaze into a slight glare.

“This is why I always liked you, dove. You learn quick.”

“If you were going to tell me to send in a whore Val, I wouldv’e just asked you to send Angel Dust!” Vox glitched with anger, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he turned around in his chair, his claw like hands gripping onto the table with such force that it left a mark, “What makes this slut is any different from him?!”

It was hard to bite back your tongue but you did, unwillingly submitting to your role as you stood before the V’s with your eyes to the ground, not daring to even look as confident at you usually were. Not because you were scared of them, no, you were scared of embarrassing Valentino. Your boss might have forgiven you for your countless stunts but when it came to matters of business with the V’s, you knew your place.

“Angel dust thinks he is on this path to redemption, let him stay in his delusion but until I can break him fully he will never be loyal to me. Not as loyal as (Y/N) here…” Valentino wraps his hand around your neck, forcing your head up to look at Vox— who for a split second was taken back by your beauty, “I have broken (Y/N) time and time again, she would do anything for me, isn’t that right (Y/N)?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Valentino.”

“Good.” Valentino pushes you toward Vox, making you stumble into him, forcing him to catch you in his arms, “Quite the vixen, she would surely catch the eyes of any overlord.”

“Even the King of Hell himself?” Vox tips your chin up with his index finger, looking into your eyes with a devilishly grin that makes you shiver.

“Asmodeus throws the biggest parties in the Pride Ring that is filled with all kinds of debauchery, especially for his birthday.” Valentino explains, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his right leg over the other, exhaling out a long drag of pink smoke, “Every one of importance will be there since it isn’t just a party but a show of status.”

“And..what? Your pretty toy is just supposed to waltz in there and get the attention of any overlord that wants to fuck her?” Velvette finally tears her gaze away from her phone, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Well it is an important party of one of Lucifer’s friends—”

“Which means he is bound to be there.” Vox grins, “Get close to the king and we get closer to controlling Hell.”

“And what makes you so sure he’ll entertain such..” Velvette looks at you with a roll of her eyes, “From what I hear Lucifer is loyal to Lilith, no one has seen him with another woman on his arm and it’s been 7 years, hashtag faithful.”

“Ah, well, 7 years is a long time to go without intimacy…I say the man is touch starved and would like some attention.” Valentino says, “Anyone can still get lonely, no matter how faithful.”

“I like the way you think Val,” Vox grips your chin as you grit your teeth. “And I think your little whore here will do just nicely.”

Before you know it was the day of Asmodeus’ birthday party. The V’s gave you the run down of the plan and how you were supposed to get close to the King of Hell himself— who you haven’t even seen in person for as long as you been hell. Which was a few years by now. You were a simple lowlife, you kept to yourself and tried to survive, only to end up within his grasp. Was he as cruel as people say? ‘What sort of question is that? Of course he was! He was the King of fucking Hell, which last time you checked, wasn’t given to just anyone.’

Of all the people, of everyone in Hell, it just has to be you. Because of your cursed deal with Val, you were stuck in a continuous limbo that you couldn’t escape from. Damn you and your loyalty, damn it all if it will end up with you dead ( again ) on the steps of Lucifer’s palace. This wasn’t fair— but then again, when has your situation ever been fair?

“Oh, you look just like a doll.” Valentino ruffled with the fake angel wings that adorned your back, fixing and prodding with whatever to make you more presentable, “Like an angel. Hell, upon just a glance mio caro you might have been able to get away with actually being one.”

And as you glance at your reflection in the mirror you felt a sudden sharp pain in the center of your forehead. Only fragments of memories came flooding your mind like a crashing wave. It was all so blurry but the word Angel held some sort of weight on you but you couldn’t place exactly what.

You held onto your head, trying to steady your breathing and relaxing your nerves as Valentino continues to add the finishing touches to your look.

“Get it together, dove.” Valentino meets your gaze in the reflection, “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“No..” The pain in your head quickly fades away as soon as it came, “I can do this.”

“Good, because it is just about your turn to be presented for the auction.”

The auction. Asmodeus does it for sport at every single one of his parties but now that this is his birthday party, this auction is the biggest one yet. It is where he finds Hell’s most beautiful prized possessions, not limiting to actual sinners. The hope was to capture Lucifer’s attention as he would be in the crowd through this angel facade, and pray that he would bet on you. And if that didn’t work, then you would have to move on to plan B. And you didn’t like plan b.

Valentino wished you luck as you stood behind the curtain to the center stage, disappearing into the shadows to leave you on your own and this mission that was screwed from the get go.

“And last but not least, I present to you—! what is the object’s name again?” The announcer whispers, putting his microphone away from his face to get a confirmation from another employee, “Ah! The pure and innocent, (Y/N)!”

The curtain suddenly opens, the spotlight from above blinding you in away that made you shield your eyes from the brightness. You squint, looking upon a sea of red lustful eyes looking over your figure with curiosity. You take a deep breath, as you played the part of a shy girl, slowly bringing your hands to cover yourself even though the white thin laced gown left little to the imagination.

“Hubba hubba! Would you look at that boys?” Asmodeus’ eyes nearly turn into hearts at the sight of you, “And I thought nothing could even look so angelic in Hell!”

“What a beaut’” Mammon agrees.

“Indeed.” Lucifer sat beside his friends, trying to cover his boredom with peaked interest as he looks in your direction. This whole thing was pretty fucked up to him but that was just the way of life down here, there’s no changing that— no changing people when it is just in their nature. Now usually he wouldn’t indulge such things but he was the King of Hell, and he had to play the part to maintain order even though he longed for nothing but to be constructing rubber ducks right now.

“500!” A man in the crowd closer to the stage shouts.

The announcer points in the man’s direction with enthusiasm, “I hear 500! What about 550? Do I hear 550?”

“600!” Another shouts.

“600 to the gentleman in red! But do I hear a 650? 650?”

Asmodeus sits back in his seat, taking another swig of his whiskey. Mammon looks at his friend in disbelief as the unknown sinners below them begin to shout various of numbers for you, “Is she not to the Lustful Overlords taste?”

“Ah, I have so many who do the innocent act. It gets boring after awhile. But if you’re interested…you should buy her.” Asmodeus smirks, shaking the single ice cube in his glass as he signals to the waitress for another.

“She ain’t my type, but—” Mammon gets a sudden idea, “Lucifer should have her. I’m sure he gets off to the Angel shit don’t you your highness?”

Lucifer tips his hat up with his cane, “I am married.”

“To a woman who you haven’t seen in seven years!” Asmodeus rolls his eyes with a loud groan before raising his hand to join the bid, “Lighten up! Good sir, I say 2500!”

“What a doozy! 2500! 2500! Do I hear 3000!?” The announcer nearly jumps from his stool at the amount offered, “Going once! Going twice—!”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer warned. Not wanting any part in this sinful behavior.

The sound of a gavel rang through the air, finalizing the amount, “And sold to the gentleman in VIP! Your prize will wait outback until you are ready to retrieve it! Enjoy!”

Just like that the plan was working. In just less than five minutes you were sold off like some prize. Your life being in yet another’s hands that wasn’t your own, it was a bit ironic since this life is almost just the same as the one you led on Earth. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish which one was truly Hell.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost in any other social media.

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

[bitter-hibiscus]

bear with me as I overanalyze Jason's grave

there's like, a lot to talk about when it comes to Jason's grave, but let's start with the most important part: The casket.

The difference between a coffin and a casket is that a coffin has six sides, while a casket has four. However, the context in which caskets started to be used serves us great narrative purpose. Caskets started being produced, in America, during the Civil War, as a way to "beautify" death. See below:

It was the violence combined with the scale of death that led to the ‘the beautification of death’ in America during this period, and it was the shift in both name and shape of the coffin that was an effort to distance the living from the unpleasantness of death, and the hexagonal coffins were part of that distancing.

Many early American caskets were still six-sided, but noticeably grander. It’s almost as if the coffin was too honest, too basic and unrefined. The change in name from coffin to casket reinforces this point, as ‘casket’ calls to mind a vessel for storing precious goods, a euphemism, yes, but seemingly also a mark of intended respect. For Americans, the idea of a casket seemed a more appropriate term to honour their dead. (From Coffins to Caskets: an American History by Sarah Hayes)

So, a casket is used in an attempt to honor the dead, and, most importantly, to take away the ugly parts of how those soldiers died in the War. The casket is an attempt to sanctify the dead while omitting the context in which they died, and what they'd died for. *

Another thing that stands out to me is that Jason's grave has an angel statue. Jason's statue, specifically, is a praying angel. Praying angels symbolize that the buried was deeply religious and devoted to God. It's interesting that that pose was the one chosen, since there are poses that symbolize heartbreak, and ones that symbolize people who were "gone too soon" and were "innocent and pure". It feels pointed, then, that the angel Bruce had commissioned is one that symbolizes faith and being guided to the afterlife. Could be extrapolated to mean that Bruce saw Robin as a follower and a believer instead of a child, someone who would always need the guidance of a higher being (such as Batman).

Lastly, Jason was buried in the city graveyard, and not the Wayne Family graveyard. I personally like to think that this serves two purposes -- one, to have Jason's grave in the same place as his parents', and two, to distance Bruce from Jason's death. Bruce regularly visits Thomas and Martha's graves, they're literally buried in Bruce's house. But we only see Bruce visiting Jason's grave once, on his 18th birthday, though it's safe to assume he at least visits Jason once a year.

It also works to say that though Jason is part of Gotham, but he's not part of Batman's mission. While Bruce constantly uses his parents' deaths to fuel his mission and his obsession, he does the opposite with Jason. It's not Batman who failed, it's Jason who was careless, it's Jason who disobeyed orders and went against what Batman told him to. So he doesn't get to be in the family cemetery, because Bruce can't use his death to fuel his bad behavior. *P.S.: Batman Annual #25 uses the word coffin, but shows a casket. Caskets are more widely used in the USA, so I'm choosing to believe that Winnick just doesn't know the difference between them.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Rainbow Bridge

Summary: The reader is incredibly confused when in heaven one day, a dog she's never met before appears by her side...

Pairing: Dean x reader (in heaven)

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of pet death/human death

A/N: I wrote this for my fellow pet owners (and myself). Hopefully those little dudes over the rainbow bridge have their own kinds of adventures like these pups while they wait! (and all the chicken nuggies they can eat 😉)

_______

The air shifted, a warm and joyful presence filling the air. You glanced down in your kitchen, an adorable dog with long fur and pointy ears staring up at you with a wagging tail.

“Well good morning to you, cutie,” you laughed, bending down in your pajamas with your cup of coffee, giving the dog a few pets. “Who might you be?”

The dog woofed and the thought Miracle sprang into your head. That wasn’t entirely uncommon. Animals in the afterlife were able to communicate a bit better than they had when you were alive. 

One of your own dogs you’d had when you were alive, your first dog ever, bounded upstairs from the playroom on the lower level that was for them to use as a way station. Sometimes they liked to stick around home, sometimes by your side and others they’d go off and visit their own animal friends they’d made. But generally they kept to themselves first thing in the day.

“This a friend of yours, baby?” you asked your little dog. He ran over to Miracle, sniffing intensely before he snorted. “No huh. Did you just die, Miracle? I know sometimes dogs are a little confused when they get here and you got your young, healthy bodies back.”

Miracle woofed with a slight head shake, your lips pursing. Your own dog pawed at you, resting a little foot on your arm. You hummed at him, the little guy sending you some positive feelings, sensing you were worried.

“Alright. I’ve never heard of a random dog appearing in heaven unless you request one. You show Miracle around the house and where he can do his business while I get ready. Then we’ll try to figure out who your owner is, okay?” Both dogs yelped happily and took off downstairs, a loud crash at the bottom as they slammed into your boot tray. “Careful! Just cause you can’t get hurt doesn’t mean you can be reckless!”

More than one dog barked back in response and you rolled your eyes, heading for your bedroom.

“At least I don’t have to pay vet bills for you guys anymore. Five dogs is only kind of a lot for one eternity.” You heard more barking and groaned. “I wasn’t complaining you mongrels! I was quite pleased to see your little faces when I died. I could have done with a little less face licking though.”

You swore you could hear the faint echo of laughter in their barks as you got ready for the day.

“If I’m not back by supper make sure you boys get some dinner,” you called, heading outside with Miracle. You loaded into your car and headed down the road, thinking you had a problem. Soon you were taking an off ramp you’d not seen before. You wound up in a mostly empty parking lot, Miracle following you out and into the lone building around.

“Take an issue form and fill out everything before returning it to the counter,” grumbled the guy behind the desk, shoving a clipboard towards you. You stepped through the empty waiting room, picking up the board. You opened your mouth to speak when he sighed. “The form is a requirement by the big man. I’m just doing my job.”

“How do you have a job which is arguably the equivalent of working at the DMV, but in heaven? Like, we don’t have jobs.” He flickered his eyes up at you, making you jump back when they flashed black. 

“Demon, sweetie. It’s part of my rehab program so I can someday be like you. By then, some other schmuck in the program will have my job. No more questions.” 

“Okay…” you said, grabbing a pen and taking a seat, Miracle laying down on the floor beside you. You stared at the form, frowning when you didn’t see your particular issue listed.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Demon,” you said, approaching the counter again, the guy rolling his eyes at you. “My problem doesn’t appear on the form?”

“That’s impossible. Those are the only issues possible of occurring in heaven.” You pointed at Miracle beside you, the guy standing to look down at him.

“I have no clue who this dog is and it’s not my dog’s friend. He just appeared next to me in my kitchen this morning,” you said. The demon stared at you, rubbing his temples. 

“Remember your steps, remember your steps,” he muttered to himself before forcing a smile. “Listen. Dogs don’t get lost in heaven. Either you know his owner-”

“Nope. My dogs don’t recognize him.”

“Fine,” gritted out the demon. “Then you and the owner of this dog are soulmates in some way.”

You blinked at him, the man angrily typing on his keyboard. 

“This dog belongs to a man named Dean Winchester. You and Dean Winchester were alive, somewhat, during the same time. He died a lot younger than you did. You two are…romantic soulmates,” he said, a fax machine going in the back. He got up and ripped off a sheet of paper, handing it to you. “Here’s his address. Now please go bother him instead of me.”

You rolled your eyes, ready to leave when you stopped, glancing down at Miracle. “Do you like, want to pet the dog?”

“Excuse me?” You turned around, the demon still on his feet.

“Well I mean, it’s probably been awhile since you’ve seen a dog or gotten to pet one. You can’t be that horrible if they’re letting you up here with the rest of us. So do you want to pet him?”

It was shocking how quickly the demon hopped over the counter and knelt down next to the dog, giving him a few pats and then a belly rub.

“I had a dog when I was a kid. I can’t wait to see her again once I get out of here,” he said, glancing up at you, seeming to forget he was a demon for a moment. “That was weird.”

“Dogs are kinda perpetually happy here and give off good energy. I’m sure your dog is looking forward to seeing you too,” you said as Miracle sat up and headed for the door. “Apparently I’m on the move. See ya around someday.”

“Yeah. Someday,” he said as you left. Five seconds later, now that you knew where you were going, you popped yourself over to this Dean Winchester’s place. You were standing outside a beautiful two story cabin on a lake, Miracle taking off in a sprint down a dock to where someone was sitting in a chair fishing. 

Your heart felt funny as the man on the dock stood and turned around, cocking his head at you. He gave Miracle a good ruffle before he approached, meeting you halfway across his backyard.

“Hi,” he said with a smile, shaking his head. “I uh-”

You both jumped when your five dogs appeared, running and chasing around a ball in the yard, Miracle joining in after them.

“Your dog popped into my kitchen this morning. I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates. At least that’s what this paper says,” you said, the pack of dogs sprinting around the corner of the house. “I’ve had a few pups in my life.”

“Miracle could do with some siblings,” he said, smirking as you felt a cozy peace inside you. “I was wondering where he ran off to. He normally doesn’t stray far from home. Looks like he was off finding his mom.”

“I thought soulmates were supposed to like…snap together when they’re both in heaven,” you said. He smirked, pursing his lips. “What?”

“I probably wasn’t in heaven when you died. I was jumping around alternate worlds and you look very confused all of a sudden.” You nodded, staring at him wide eyed. “I’m a smidge of a rule breaker…and I kinda know Jack…and took down the old god.”

Your first instinct was to call him crazy but he had no reason to lie. Besides, something ached in his soul, like it had a little bruise on it. This man had known serious pain and then some when he was alive.

“You know, I killed vampires when I was alive. What’s something you did for fun?” he asked. Your jaw dropped, Dean chuckling. “Oh boy. Sweetheart, you and I have some catching up to do.”

“Hi baby,” you said that night as you and Dean laid on a blanket in the yard, your little guy crawling up on the blanket and settling in beside Dean. “Aw, he likes you.”

“He’s protective of you. I can feel it,” he said with a hum. “He hung out with your grandparents a lot after he died. Apparently while you were crying over him on earth, he was chowing down on some of your grandpa’s maple syrup bacon thinking mom’s being overdramatic, I’m gonna see her again. She worries too much.”

You sat up, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know that? My grandparents told me they were with him until my parents got here and he stayed with them a while but dogs can’t talk to us like that here. We can sense them and stuff but we can’t know complete thoughts.”

Dean smiled, scratching behind the dogs ears. 

“Well, I’m a little special. I worked a case where I could communicate with dogs once. It came back up here. This little guy adores the fuck out of you and wishes you hadn’t been so sad back then but he understands. He is pretty awesome,” laughed Dean. 

“And he’s a little shit,” you giggled. “What else does he say?”

“He’s glad you got more dogs over your life and he’s glad you found me finally. Also if we don’t stop talking soon he’s going to go inside and sleep on our bed,” chuckled Dean. “Cranky baby, aren’t you?”

The dog snorted, stood up, licked your nose and trotted off inside with his chin turned up.

“Like I said, he’s a sassy little shit,” you chuckled, Dean pulling you closer. “So Dean. What do you got planned for the afterlife?”

“A bit of fishing here and there. Working on my car. Going out for a drink at the roadhouse. Hanging with my brother. Sneak out of heaven to get up to shit every once in a while, hopefully with you. How’s that sound?” he asked. You leaned over and kissed him slowly, rolling back with a smile. 

“Sounds like a plan, Winchester. Time to start having some fun in eternity.”

___________

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Put Back Together | Cassian x Reader

Summary: After the recent attack on Velaris, you, a nurse, find yourself struggling with all the death surrounding you. However, Cassian is always there to put you back together.

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: A lot a bit of angst in the beginning, mentions of injuries and death.

A/N: Was really in my feels today and wanted to write, hope you enjoy this word vomit <3

Requests are open!

You were absolutely exhausted.

You knew that working at the local hospital in Velaris wouldn’t exactly be easy, especially not after the recent attack on the city, but it was starting to wear on you. In the many years you’d worked for the hospital, not much happened, as Velaris was a haven to its people and any sort of violence within the cozy streets and community was unheard of. Maybe you’d gotten too comfortable using your healing abilities only for little injuries and mishaps for the citizens, or maybe you hadn’t been exposed to enough of the horrors and gore that working in the medical department could provide.

The days didn’t go by quickly anymore. Any form of banter or playfulness with coworkers was gone, leaving a buzzing, sterile silence in its place.

The hospital was full, as were the local morgues and graveyards.

Your shifts were spent healing those that were salvageable until you were bone tired, or comforting those who couldn’t be saved. The supply of pain medicine was slowly running out, and couldn’t be spared on dying patients to ease them into the afterlife, and so after all your magic was spent, all you could do was go hold and comfort them, giving false reassurances and hopes until they slipped into cold unconsciousness, never to wake again.

Today was no different, but it had been worse. Not because there had been any increase, but because you could still remember the crying child you’d held in your arms. He had been doomed from the start, limbs shredded and rendered useless, lungs nearly collapsed, and shrapnel piercing his body in what seemed like nearly every spot.

“I don’t want to die, please don’t let me.”

Was what he had begged you, tears shining in his eyes. Death was worse for immortals, you supposed because it wasn’t a natural process like it was for mortals. Death was an abhorrent thief that stole what it shouldn’t be able to; the prospect of living for eternity.

You had reassured the boy, tried to comfort him, let him pray to the weak gods that wouldn’t save him, and hadn’t saved so many others before him. But he’d continued crying until his cold, stiffening body couldn’t cry anymore. The squeaking wheels of the mortuary trolley had replaced the sounds of his labored breathing, as his small body was taken away to the morgue.

You were so tired.

Tired of seeing death and hatred and injuries, tired of the blood that you could never seem to scrub off of your skin after the long shifts. And there was only one refuge you knew for you, one place where you could get a sense of relief.

“Missed you so much, you know? Can’t go a day without my darlin’ sweet girl.”

Cassian’s voice immediately met you as you opened the door to the House of Wind, walking in. His large, strong arms wrapped around you, like the strong, unwavering foundation they were for you.

You buried your head in his neck, hating yourself for the tears that welled up, the tears you tried to blink away. You couldn’t get the image of that child out of your mind. He must’ve noticed your feelings through the bond felt your tears through his shirt, or just noticed how you trembled slightly.

He separated just a few inches, his arms now on your shoulders, one hand sneaking up to cup your cheek. His expression softened instantly at seeing your tears, foolish, territorial anger shooting through him, the urge to rip whoever had made you so upset to shreds flooding his being. However, anger wouldn’t help put you back together. He knew that.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

He asked, before gently guiding you to sit on the couch next to him. You were fully crying at that point, hot, heavy tears slipping down your face, little sniffles coming from you. He listened patiently, his hand raking your hair out of your face as you blubbered an explanation, about the boy, the death, the way you hated all of it. When you finally managed to get the last of it out, his face was sympathetic, but firm.

“We’re gonna go take a nice, hot bath, ‘kay? Gonna get you all clean, then we can relax together, just you and me, no stress or patients, no nothing.”

He said, and before you could even open your mouth to protest, he scooped your lithe body up, carrying you to the large bathroom connected to your shared bedroom. Living in a sentient house had its uses, you realized, as it started a warm bath, just the temperature you liked, with your favorite oils and scents already mixed in. A warm, relaxing candlelight filled the bathroom, the House deciding that you needed a break from the harsh, buzzing lights of the hospital. Cassian gently pulled your clothes off with practiced ease, throwing the scrubs and undergarments to the floor. He then stripped himself of his own leathers and remaining clothes, before gently easing into the warm bath with you, a content sigh slipping from his lips as the water lapped at his muscled, tan skin, relaxing him.

After spending a few minutes lying on top of him on the water, head against his chest, eyes closed contentedly, you began reaching for the shampoo, eager to clean your dirty hair out.

Cassian’s hand grasped your wrist gently as he tutted.

“Ah, ah. No more work for my mate, I think I’ll be cleaning you up.”

He said, his tone warm and raspy, the lazy grin he usually had plastered on that big, idiotic, lovable face of his. You were too weary to bother arguing with him, knowing he was much too stubborn to relent.

He grabbed your favorite shampoo, the one that smelled heavenly and cleaned your hair even better, and squirted some of it on his hand before massaging it into your scalp. His big, scarred hands were surprisingly good at cleaning every inch of your roots, and you always were amazed at how clean your hair felt the next day.

He knew your entire haircare routine down to the littlest of details, and after carrying out the entire process to a tee, he washed both your and his body with your favorite body wash, the scent of it one that always managed to soothe you, no matter the day.

And before you knew it, you were lying on your stomach in your shared bed, Cassian massaging your tense back, his warm hands smearing cool lotion before rubbing all the knots and tension out. Your eyelids drooped as your head seemed to melt into the soft pillow below you, all your worries and struggles forgotten as you drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

You could handle one more day, you decided. For your mate, for your family, and for the lives you could save along the way.

[bluegiragi]

hello! i'm gira, i go by she/her, and i've been making fanart for the cod fandom for about four months now :) the majority of that time's been spent on the soapbox saga, which is sort of just what i call the very plot-ridden porn comic featuring ghost, soap and konig. and recently i've been working on the monster 141 au!

i'm here to address the reasoning behind how i assigned certain monsters to certain characters, particularly the POC characters as well as accusations of racism regarding me neglecting gaz in all my art :) whoever you are, if you're reading this in good faith, i thank you! i earnestly never intended to make anyone feel uncomfortable from my work.

The Monster AU

i won't post the blog who brought this issue up mainly because, (realistically speaking) i think people might go after them and spam them with hate so I'm paraphrasing here. but basically..."how come all the POC in the Monster AU are assigned animal-associated monsters? Comparisons to animals can be incredibly demeaning when it comes to minorities".

I completely agree! But earnestly, I think my desire to assign every character a 'monster' that was relevant to their culture overshadowed the part of my brain that would've raised red flags about this sort of thing. There's the argument here that I could've assigned these characters cooler monsters such as Price who is a dragon, and Ghost who is a wraith, but I wanted to be respectful of all the minorities in the COD cast by giving them creatures that reflected their culture and personality.

ALEJANDRO - NAGUAL

In the Monster AU, Alejandro is a nagual, which is considered a guardian spirit in Mesoamerican culture. Typically, it's said that the nagual is the shapeshifted form that powerful men can transform into in order to do evil (although that doesn't apply in this case, Ale's a heroic lad), and can come in the forms of a jaguar, deer, dog or bird. I chose a jaguar, since it seemed to be the most common form of nagual depiction in the resources I was looking at. The 'panther mode' isn't pre-established as part of nagual mythology, but since most panthers are just black jaguars, i thought the association wouldn't be unreasonable.

I chose Alejandro to be a nagual because it's so in character for him to be protective of his home. The idea of him being a literal guardian spirit for all he considers his just made sense to me :)

--

RODOLFO (RUDY) - CADEJOS

In this AU, Rudy is the vessel for two cadejos, which are legendary dog spirits popular in the mythology of Central America, parts of South America and Mexico. Historically, they've been known as psychopomps (guides to help humans into the afterlife following their death) but modern interpretation has shifted to depict them as the good guardian dog and the evil attacking dog respectively.

A lot of the minute information about the cadejos tends to differ depending on the source. Like whether they're actually two separate dogs, or they're the same dog just in different 'modes', or how big they are. My personal depiction of them has them sized as normal dogs (although their spirit nature means they can move into small spaces pretty easily by just becoming immaterial temporarily) and as separate spirits that have been passed down through Rudy's family generationally.

I chose the cadejo for Rudy because although I wanted to include him in the Monster AU, i still liked keeping him as a character who was a bit more 'human' than Alejandro. I think Ale needs Rudy to hold him back sometimes, and having the two cadejo definitely helps with that. Sort of like how cheetahs in zoos have therapy dogs growing up because they're so anxious all the time! I think it also does a good job of showing Rudy's two sides as well, like he's a softie who just wants to protect those he loves, but he's capable of a lot of violence too.

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VALERIA - GORGON

Valeria is a gorgon which, admittedly, is not part of Mexican mythology. However, I was put in a bit of a bind here, since my research didn't really reveal to me a monster in Mexican culture that I thought would suit Valeria's vibe (manipulative, elulsive) and I just felt like a gorgon would be perfect for her. Medusa's myth has her being continuously demeaned by the men in her life and is a symbol of female empowerment, which I thought was a great reflection of the implied reason that Valeria left the army was due to internal sexism. There's also the perfect parallel of how anyone who sees El Sin Nombre's face dies, and Medusa's whole 'turn you to stone' thing.

I thought i could compromise by making Valeria a gorgon but her hair would be Mexican black kingsnakes but...turns out they're actually not that dangerous. Some people even keep them as pets! So I decided to keep the visual, but make her a pit viper, a subfamily of vipers found in the Americas as well as Eurasia.

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HORANGI - HAETAE

Horangi is a haetae (해태) which is a beast in Korean mythology that typically comes in the form of a horned lion or dog. It's prevalent in a lot of cultures in East Asia actually, although it goes under different names depending on the region - kaichi for Japan, xiezhi for China. I made Horangi a tiger variant on the creature because...well...'horangi' means 'tiger' in korean. It just made sense to me to put that little twist on it.

Typically, haetae are seen as spirits of judgement, that decide on innocent and guilty parties in disputes and punish the latter. It's also considered a guardian against fire (hence the fire immunity and cloud manipulation powers I gave him).

GAZ - HARPY

Gaz is a harpy which, I won't lie, was purely inspired by the fact that he seems to keep falling out of helicopters. But it's also because...yeah, I did neglect Gaz in the soapbox saga. But I think I neglected...everyone in the soapbox saga who weren't directly involved in the main ship. I sort of just tunnel visioned on the main three, so my exclusion of characters isn't just limited to Gaz, it was included Price, Laswell, Alejandro, Rudy, Graves etc.

I just want to make clear that my treatment of Gaz in particular isn't reflective of any inner preference against him. And to make good on that, me assigning Gaz wings of all things was to help me spend more time on him in the Monster AU! I think the contrast between Gaz being an upstart harpy, and Price being a one-winged dragon has a lot of potential as a mentor/protege relationship (and perhaps even something more) and it's why I assigned this monster to him. I really wanted to establish a connection upfront, but just making Gaz another dragon felt cheap - the harpy thing felt a little more in turn with his character :)

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I really hope this cleared up any remaining frustrations with my designs for the Monster AU. I hope you can see that I never meant anything demeaning by assigning these monsters to their respective characters - in fact, I earnestly tried to go out of my way and be respectful to their backgrounds.

In any case, if you have any more questions I'd be happy to answer them - I'd just ask you to please ask politely :)

[hjpslytherclaw]

Hello! 👋 Your Harry Potter fics are an absolute joy! It warms my heart to find another HJP lover out there! 👓⚡️💖 Hopefully if it’s no trouble, what do you think about a fic where the reader, whose in a relationship w/ Harry, has a dream or NDE (near-death experience) where she meets James and Lily and they’re so grateful for her loving Harry & being there for him? Keep up the great work! 👍

ah thank you so much!! and absolutely, I've been meaning to do one like this for awhile now <3

here is . . .

Beyond Our Hearts | Harry Potter

Harry Potter x fem! reader

Summary! In which during the battle of Hogwarts, Y/N L/N has a strange vision of her boyfriends parents while fighting for her life.

Warnings / Content! y/n on the verge of dying, mentions of death and passing, a worried harry but majorly fluff besides that.

It all happened so quickly.

From throwing as many spells as she possibly could at opposing death eaters to having the world go pitch black, Y/N L/N's life had flashed before her eyes like a bolt of lightning.

She had awoken in a room of nothing but pure light. Looking around the room seemed to shift, one moment nothing but white to the Gryffindor common room, the forest of Dean, the great hall during the Yule ball, it configured itself to places she had known too well.

And as vast as it had originally happened, it had become grimly clear to Y/N what was going on.

"I'm dead," Y/N's voice was a bare breath, as light as a feather but weighted with nothing but despair.

The second those words had escaped her lips her mind had only thought of one thing.

Harry.

How's Harry? Would he be joining me? Does he know? The thoughts were drowning her.

"I've died," She repeated. She felt her eyes begin to water. This couldn't be the end could it? She was barely eighteen this was supposed to be where life truly began, not where it ends.

"Not exactly."

The voice made Y/N jump, the room had changed once more at the action. Now it had set the scenery at an oddly familiar place. It took a moment but Y/N had realized where she had seen it before. It was the Potter's house.

And when she turned around to find the voice that had spoken to her, she was met with the two former occupants.

No way.

Y/N believed she must've gone mad.

She had only ever seen them in pictures and visualized them through Harry's descriptions but it was clear as day who they were.

James and Lily.

Harry's parents stood before her.

Y/N swore she felt her heart stop.

"This isn't death, not yet at least." Lily had spoken, her hand clasped around her husbands. "More so of a limbo, a place between life and death."

"I didn't think we'd be getting to meet so soon, Y/N." James had smiled.

Y/N's mouth had opened but no words had come out. Pure shock was all she had felt in the moment.

"I understand the shock, I've been told even in the afterlife i'm devilishly handsome." James grinned, which earned him a light hit on the shoulder from his wife.

Y/N laughed.

"It's alright to be shocked," Lily said soothingly, she had something so comforting about her that made Y/N feel safe. "Meeting the passed parents of your partner doesn't happen everyday."

"I- I just find this all so hard to believe," Y/N had gotten out through a dry throat.

"And that's perfectly fine." James consoled, "What isn't fine is us having to meet you so soon. I mean you're a lovely girl, Y/N, but you shouldn't be here."

"Wait so does that mean-"

"You can go back to the land of the living?" Lily finished, "Yes."

Y/N had let out a happy breath she hadn't known she was holding. She could go home. She could go back to Harry.

"But before you go back," James said, "There's a reason you're here, with us."

Y/N furrowed her brows, only to relax them moments later. It was strange to have them be the ones to find her in her almost death.

"As of right now Harry had given himself up to Voldemort-"

Y/N's happy heart had faltered. "What?! He's not, he can't-"

"He's alright, Y/N." Lily smiled, "He's alive and well, in fact looking for you. The battle is over."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. It was all over. Harry was safe.

"Though while giving himself up he was struck with the killing curse." James had told, "And in his last moment, his last thought, was you." James and Lily shared a smile, "We hadn't known at the time of you're arrival here but we both hoped that one day, when you got here, we'd meet you for that reason."

Y/N's mouth went slightly ajar. She was feeling too many things at one time to fully find one to express.

"We've seen you two over the years," Lily confessed to the L/N girl, catching her attention again. "All of the ups and downs, the good and the bad and you two have held together through it all. He cares for you in ways that astonish me. The love he holds for you is one that only the books seem to have."

"The way he looks at you is a way I thought only I could have, when I looked at Lily of course." James interjected for a moment, lightly squeezing Lily's hand.

"A look of pure and unconditional love." Lily smiled. "Harry deserves nothing but that. We never thought we'd be thanking you for giving him that this soon, but this was a chance we figured we'd take."

Lily had let go of James's hand and walked towards Y/N, Y/N had stayed still as she had approached her. Dead and yet so alive at the same time. It was wonderous.

"You have given him nothing but the love he deserves. You've cared for him and looked after him like no other, Y/N. We obviously haven't been around to do that and as much as that may always hurt, it's incredible to know that he has you." Lily expressed to her. "I can speak for both James and I when I say we're so, so grateful you've been there for our Harry. You've given him something so incredible, you've given him a reason to keep going and that's more than we ever could've asked for."

"The world was all we ever wanted for Harry," James spoke, "And though he may never get all of that, you've given him more of that than I thought was possible. I'm thankful he has you to lean on, you to love."

Y/N hadn't expected any of this, she hadn't expected to meet the parents of the boy she had loved so much, stand before them in a place between the living and the dead, but in the moment she couldn't find anywhere else she'd prefer to be besides with Harry himself.

"Now," Lily spoke again, sorrow in her tone. "Harry has just found your body in the living side of the world. And as much as I'd like to continue to thank you for all you've done for our boy, I don't want him to go through so much distress in finding you in this state."

Y/N felt a pang of sadness, she wanted to stay for a little longer, this was too short for her liking. But she belonged with the living, she belonged to live besides Harry and celebrate the end of the a lifelong war.

"Thank you," Y/N spoke, "For having such an amazing boy. Thank you for approving of me."

"Thank you for giving him what we couldn't." James grinned.

"I hope to continue this someday in the far, far future," Lily said softly, "Until then, continue giving our boy the love he deserves."

"I promise to never stop," Y/N assured them happily.

She was met with a joyous nod from James and an even brighter smile from Lily.

And then she awoke.

She was back at Hogwarts, her face covered in soot and dirt. Harry leaning over her.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, relieved, he seemed to have been doing cpr on her. He embraced her quickly, "I was so worried, oh my love, I'm so happy you're alright."

Y/N had still barely processed the interaction she just had but Harry's hug, his presence in general was enough to wash anything away.

"It's over," He confessed to her, "It's all over, darling."

She couldn't imagine a more blissful feeling. Harry Potter was her happiness, her calm after the storm, it didn't matter what happened next for the two of them.

She was going to keep her promise to Lily and keep loving him, with every star in the galaxy, with every fiber of her being, she knew she'd never stop.

And one day, someday, she'd get to tell them she lived up to it.

[fraugwinska]

Giveaway 2nd Prize Winner Piece

Hello my loves! Our darling @lil-glum, who won myy 2nd prize in the 1k Follower giveaway, has graciously allowed me to share the finished piece with you all! It was a delight to work with her - and her ideas were so good that writing this felt less like work and all the more like a treat! <3 So much so that I, in fact, went a bit overboard with the word count! ;> As usual: Minors DNI or I'll curse you to always have moist socks!

Paint the Town Red

For weeks now, Alastor had stalked out that little human like a vulture, circling high above the oblivious prey and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Revisiting the living world should've been a glorious occasion, since summonings were becoming so rare nowadays, but that moron who dared to call on him hadn't been worth his while - but she was.

Luck and curse had it that he didn't have to return to hell right after the laughably one-sided deal was striked, leaving him time enough to put a little glamor on to stroll around town in his earthly disguise, freshly brewed coffee in hand, and see what humanity had been up to since his demise. The world had become frivolous, no class at all, and Alastor had felt at ease knowing that he had lived at the peak of culture and manners, never to be bettered.

And then she ran into him. Deeply immersed in a book - not those audacious electronic devices people put their nose in every waking hour - she'd rounded the corner while Alastor gawked around, lost to the world captured on the yellowed pages. A head full of red, silky locks had bumped into his chest and the book as well as his coffee dropped, the former to be saved by his quick reflexes. A simple flick of his wrist, and the book was back in her hand, while his cup of java laid spilled in a muddy puddle between their feet.

"Oh! Oh no - I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention!" she'd said, pushing her glasses back her nose as she smiled up to him apologetically, and when Alastor met her eyes, something shifted. And just like that, the hunt was on.

"No harm done, darling. The coffee was poorly done anyway."

Since time was running out, he turned up his charm to at least get the girl's name and maybe another meeting out of the encounter, already planning on ways to return. Thankfully, she'd given it all too gladly, and promised to invite him for coffee as an apology for the spilled one. He'd taken the sound of her name into his hands like the greatest treasure, repeating it over and over in his mind as he was being dragged back to the afterlife tasting each vowel and consonant. Hunting down an indebted incubus and acquiring its asmodean crystal had been as easy as working out how to use it. And oh - did he use it.

His absence from his duties in the hotel became more and more obvious, but Alastor couldn't stop himself. It wasn't even the thrill of the chase that kept him going. Every time he saw her, it was as if her mere presence called out to an unknown part of him, as if her voice was a siren's call, as if her scent was a drug created just for him. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about her: The delightful way she laughed at his quips. The elegant way she spoke about her interests. The way she brushed her fiery hair back over her shoulder when she was nervous…

Alastor wanted it all, and he wanted her.

"Alastor, are you listening at all?" she smiled at him, pulling him out of his raging thoughts.

"My apologies, dear, I was merely...distracted. Please do repeat yourself." he cleared his throat and gave her a wide grin. The abandoned park they walked in was tinted in oranges, greens and browns, little specks of autumn's palette so becoming to her complexion.

"I was saying that I don't really feel like going back home yet. How about we take a detour - explore a little?" she proposed, pointing down to a small trail that led away from the main road, lined with trees and shrubbery, "There's supposed to be a pond around there, and I think it would be nice to enjoy your company a little longer."

Alastors ears perked up and his smile widened, threatening to mirror the one he always wore down in hell. She wanted to be alone with him, far away from prying eyes - that wonderful, naive thing.

"That sounds delightful, my dearest - lead the way!"

His mind was running wild with possibilities as he followed her down the path, watching her red locks bounce as she hopped down the sloping ground. How much she trusted him was as endearing as it was thrilling, and the urge to reach out and take her by the arm to pull her into his own grew with every step he took, the demon in him aching for a taste of her. He wasn't one to rush good things, and he wanted to enjoy this, make it last as long as he could, savor every moment of the inevitable fall.

She was chattering away happily, unaware of the obsessive way he watched her. Her hips swayed hypnotically, the hem of her wool skirt grazing her thighs ever so slightly, and Alastor wondered if the flush of her cheeks from the cool autumn air would be found elsewhere on her delectable body, too. He knew he had to control himself, but with his desire burning hot like the flames of his true home, Alastor struggled.

Finally, they reached the small pond and she turned around to him, beaming with accomplishment. The sight of it, of her prideful smile and trusting eyes so enthrallingly focused on him was too much, and whatever she was about to say was swallowed by his lips crashing into hers. His gloved hands held her face firmly as he pushed her against a tree, the bark scratching into the back of her coat. He had wanted this for so long, the feeling of her soft lips moving against his, her hands clawing at his shoulders, indecisive on whether to pull him closer or push him away. She gasped into the kiss and Alastor took the chance to push his tongue inside, swallowing her moan as apparently made up her mind, tugging at his coat as he finally devoured her.

It was entirely, decidedly too much: The warmth of her, the taste, the touches, the sounds, he couldn't get enough of it, couldn't get close enough. With ferocity, he got rid of every offending layer of obstructive clothing, reveling in the way she breathed his name, pleading to the deity that couldn't care for mercy and to him to ruin her. And he gladly granted her wish, benevolent as he was, his lips trailing down her neck, teeth nipping at her collarbone, tongue laving over her exposed breasts as his hands stroked up her legs, fingers disappearing under her skirt to brush against her core.

"Please, Alastor - oh!" she whimpered when he pushed a finger inside her wet cunt, the tight heat making him growl in approval. He wanted her to beg, he wanted her to cry, wanted her to break down before him and ask him for salvation. His glamor flickered, struggling to hold against the loss of control.

"Look at you, my dear, so eager, so wanting," he crooned as he pushed another finger inside her, watching her back arch from the tree, her body seeking out his hands like a magnetic pull. Brown hair slowly turned red, antlers sprouting from its crown, his modest gray coat faded into his signature crimson pinstriped frock, and she gasped into his hungry mouth as he let the grip on his magic go and revealed himself completely as the demonic overlord that he was. Alastor, the Radio Demon, laughed, licking along her jaw as he slowly increased the pace of his claws, earning another sweet sound of shocked pleasure from his little, confused human.

“Don’t let my true form deceive you, my darling - No matter what happens… I’ll make sure you see heaven.”

[arachniee]

i. medical haywire

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ various! hazbin hotel x female seraphim! reader

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summary: as the seraphim responsible for the management of heaven's medical areas, your days are mostly spent in the comfort of labs and clinics. though, those mudane days seem to shift into more interesting ones after meeting the princess of hell and her little group.

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warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, too much caffeine intake, not proofread; there might be grammatical errors, all lowercase letters

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heaven was as bright and bustling as ever, regardless of the time of day. whether it'd be the sun shining, or the moon. every corner of the city was filled with fun and joy, not a single hint of negativity. heaven was paradise, after all. a paradise that everyone wanted to get a taste of. it was the embodiment of dreams, everyone would agree. this was place that granted them a life that was worth living, even in the afterlife.

however, you wouldn't say that this was your dream. in the presence of the night, you remained unfazed as you continued with your work. eerie silence seeping into the laboratory room you were currently in, despite being all alone, this somehow bought you comfort instead of uneasiness. being surrounded by laboratory equipment and machinery, your attention shifted from the blood sample in your hands to the medical files on the metal table near you. it wasn't just any pile, almost every corner of that table was filled with piles and piles of folders almost the size of mountains.

after you received the report of an extermination angel's murder, you haven't slept in days. an angel was behead, that kept you up at night. each time you thought about it, your curiousity and thirst for knowledge were eating you up from the inside and out. you wanted to dwell deeper into the topic, but you still had medical areas to run. and with the recent news that you received about the extermination, you wanted nothing more than to just drown yourself in your own misery. every six months, really?

extermination angels return with more wounds than what others would expect. and with thousands of them returning with injuries that range from scratches to more notable wounds, the extermination is something you do not look forward to dealing with. you are definitely not surprised, these sadistic fuckers are too overconfident in their own actions, lacking in armor and more driven to attack, and because of that, you're the one who has to suffer with treating them.

and now that those demons know what they can do to angels, you're expecting more bloodshed during extermination. and that means more work. and not mention that the extermination angels should be in the best condition possible to participate, thus, you have to monitor all of them regularly. and with your more 'common' patients, the residents of the city, you haven't seen and felt daylight nor the moonlight in who knows how long now. you haven't even slept yet, only taking naps here and there that only last around half an hour or so.

as you checked your watch, you noted that the project you were currently working on would have to be continued in the next few hours instead. you followed quite a strict and busy schedule, which is not surprising for one of the highest of seraphims. you tidied up the lab a bit, rummaging through the almost endless amount of files and folders, grabbing a few before your eyes fell onto a folder that had a letter "v" in the middle. you momentarily paused your actions, frozen in place as you stared at it. you eventually pushed it aside and grabbed the files under it before you stood and made your way out, turning off the lights and locking the door.

the halls were dimly lit, casting an unsettling sense of uneasiness. though, you walked through them without a care in the world, this was heaven after all, no one would harm you here. each door you passed was dark and disturbing, expected as it was almost two o'clock in the morning. your steps echoed down the empty halls as you walked to the laboratory's cafeteria. your last caffeine intake was almost an hour ago, you need to grab another mug before you collapsed with more work piled up on your desk the next morning.

unsurprisingly, the lights were still on in the cafeteria since the cooks would usually prepare the food early in the morning. you had to commend them for their dedication though. as you entered the kitchen area, you were greeted warmly by the workers, you nodded at them in acknowledgement, greeting them as well, though with a little less energy. they understood why, and they were grateful for your dedication to your job as well. it must be hard to keep everyone in check, managing a lot of stuff all at once. before you could reach one of the coffee makers, one of the newer staff members extended a mug of steaming, hot coffee into your reach with smile. you looked at them with raised eyebrows and tired eyes, the young angel just wanted to express his admiration, and maybe this was the way that he thought you would appreciate the most at the moment. maybe he was right, so you gently took the mug from his hands, careful not to spill any onto him.

he visibly beamed at you when you expressed your gratitude by muttering a small 'thank you', hoping that he, even in the slightest way possible, was able to help your mood and tiredness. you stayed in the cafeteria for a few more minutes before you had to go back to work. the young angel's mood dampened a little bit, but he understood and bid you goodluck with a smile. after that unintentional break you had, you walked to your office, a little more energetic now, was it because of the caffeine or the interaction you had with the young man? you're not sure. he reminded you of an old friend you had, but you shook those thoughts away as your office finally came in sight.

you were slightly surprised to see someone standing at your door, their knuckles knocking onto the door. you were always told you had such light, unaudible steps, now you realized how right they were. if you hadn't spoke, this person wouldn't have heard your arrival. even in the dark hallways, you were able to make out the person's appearance, and you didn't quite expect to see her here, especially at this hour.

"emily?"

you stated, your voice was somewhat husky, you figured it was because you hadn't interacted and spoke to someone in who knows how many days due to your work. the young seraphim slightly jumped at your voice, not expecting you to appear right beside her in the dark. she let out a nervous laugh, she was jittery, you could tell with how she played with her fingers and avoided eye contact. and when she finally spoke, you knew your hunch was correct.

"h-hey! no wonder no one was answering me, i thought you fell asleep in your office again!"

her smile was strained, it was quite obvious. you didn't question her as you gestured for her to enter your office with you. you placed the files you were carrying on the table, taking another sip of the coffee in your other hand as you nodded your head to one of the chairs, emily understood and with unsure movements, she sat down on the chair in front of your table. the atmosphere was tense, you could tell. she couldn't seem to stay still in her seat, eyes darting all around the room. the silence was deafening, though you wanted to break it yourself, you didn't want to overstep boundaries and ask her directly about why she was acting so... troubled. and it didn't take long before she took a deep breath and spoke.

"i heard there's going to be a meeting with the princess of hell."

her voice was quiet, but to you, it was loud and clear. you knew about the meeting, of course. sera and the others have informed you about this meeting a few days ago. you were one of the most important figures of heaven, so your presence there was mandatory. and you weren't surprised that emily knew about this meeting, as she herself was also a seraphim. though you wondered why she spoke of the meeting in such a tone. you expected her to be happy, especially since you knew of her curiousity about hell and the demons who reside in it. as you stared at the file in your hands, you gave a brief glance to her as an acknowledgement to continue. she hesitated for a few seconds before she eventually spoke again.

"sera didn't tell me. no one did. if i hadn't passed by and accidently heard them talk about it, i wouldn't have known."

at her words, you finally lifted your gaze. she wore a sad expression, her eyebrows low and down as her lips were. she seemed visibly upset. yeah, maybe sera was going to tell her and was about to do so, but the meeting is in two days. usually, sera would speak to her about the meetings at least a week before they were held. and when she found out that the meeting is on the day after tomorrow, she had her doubts that sera would tell her. maybe it was childish, but to emily, she thought that she at least had to be informed, she wanted to help her sister, in the preparation and such. but with how sera didn't tell her, nor did anyone, she figured that they may have not wanted her to attend and join, nonetheless know, about the meeting.

"she knows how much i want to know about hell, so why didn't she tell me? am i not allowed to join the meeting?"

you knew why sera didn't want her to know about it. yet you knew that you aren't the one in the place to tell emily any of those reasons. you knew the answer to both of the young seraphim's questions, but you made no move to answer them. that was not for you to tell. you didn't want her relationship with sera to be waned by whatever may happen during that meeting, and you understood why the older seraphim made an effort to ensure that emily doesn't know about it.

you didn't want to give emily any false hope, but you wanted to do what you could to make her feel better. so instead of giving her a sure answer, your eyes fell back on the file in your hand before you spoke.

"i will speak to her about it."

your reply didn't gurantee her anything, but as soon as she heard those words from you, she immediately smiled and brightened up. you and sera are very good friends, yes, but sera held onto her duties and responsibilities with an iron grip. and if one of those involved emily's safety, you knew convincing her wasn't going to be an easy task.

if it were anyone else, emily was sure that sera would just dismiss them, claiming that she was doing the right thing, but if it were you, then there's a silver of hope. she's beyond grateful that she had a friend like you, someone she could open to about all this. though, this all felt foreign to her. the feeling of not being included.

chants that vary from 'thank you's and 'you're the best's echoed in the room, emily was practically bouncing in her seat from the excitement. you were satisfied that you were able to bring up her mood, even just a little bit. the conversation continued, mostly from emily. she told you all about the events yesterday, rambling about random things. you would nod to her statements, eyes still focused on the tasks that need to be done. as soon as she started talking a little slower and quieter, you lifted your eyes to see a half-awake seraphim, blinking in and out of sleep. your initial thought was to offer her a drink of your coffee to stay awake, though as a doctor, you knew very well not to do so, that would be ridiculous with your title and knowledge in health.

you advised her to rest, letting her know that you would inform sera of her whereabouts soon. emily couldn't really make out what you were saying anymore, so she just nodded her head along with each word that escaped you. oh, how the tables have turned. you shook your head with a small smile before you stood up from your seat, making your way around the table. gently, you scooped the young seraphim up into your arms in bridal style, adjusting your hold on her to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable, and after the softest of snores left her, you knew.

as you reached one of the couches in your office, you gently laid her limp, sleeping form. you didn't really have any blankets here, as you never really sleep here (and you never expected anyone else to). so you just took off the dark blazer you had on, leaving you in your white dress shirt. your clothes were no doubt expensive, the sublte but intricately made accents in your favorite color.

you turn away momentarily to glance at your watch, it was almost five in the morning. as hectic as your schedule is, you have more work in half an hour, so you had to get ready to go back in the lab. you wrote a small goodmorning note to emily after grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, leaving the neatly folded note on the coffee table in front of the couch, you may or may not have also put a few candies as well. after hearing a satisfying pop from your stretched limbs, you braced yourself for another day of war. war against tiredness and work. but now you also had to add the little promise you had made to emily, you'll have to converse with sera soon.

a knock came from the door, one of the nurses on shift informing you that adam requested to meet with you at 8 am today. you pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the in coming headache. when will you ever catch a break?

[merymoonbeam]

Book of Breathings - Elain - Ankh Symbol

First of all this is tied to my "a tool of creation" theory so you can read that first if you want.

We first learned about book of breathings in acomaf. To nullify the Cauldron.

“When the Cauldron was made,” the carver interrupted, “its dark maker used the last of the molten ore to forge a book. The Book of Breathings. In it, written between the carved words, are the spells to negate the Cauldron’s power—or control it wholly. But after the War, it was split into two pieces. One went to the Fae, one to the six human queens. It was part of the Treaty, purely symbolic, as the Cauldron had been lost for millennia and considered mere myth. The Book was believed harmless, because like calls to like—and only that which was Made can speak those spells and summon its power. No creature born of the earth may wield it, so the High Lords and humans dismissed it as little more than a historical heirloom, but if the Book were in the hands of something reforged … You would have to test such a theory, of course—but … it might be possible.” (acomaf)

And as the books went on...we got the two half of the books and finally the book is somehow in cc world.

So lets start with this theory post.

The name of the book comes from Egyptian Mythology

The Books of Breathing (Arabic: كتاب التنفس Kitāb al-Tanafus) are several ancient Egyptian funerary texts, intended to enable deceased people to continue existing in the afterlife. The earliest known copy dates to circa 350 BC.[1] Other copies come from the Ptolemaic Kingdom and Roman Egypt, as late as the 2nd century AD.[2] It is a simplified form of the Book of the Dead

This information will be important for later. And in the meantime I made a post about koshei's onyx box connecting to this if you wanna read it.

Okay moving on...

I was looking at acotar coloring book pages and book of breathings drawing is... interesting.

Side not: sarah got the deals for the acotar books and then worked on the coloring book so I think this is important to add bc she LOVES to add hints as little things and whats better to add than a coloring book?

The circles of silver, gold and bronz.

It had been formed of dark metal plates bound on three rings of gold, silver, and bronze, each word carved with painstaking precision, in an alphabet I could not recognize. Yes, it indeed turned out my reading lessons were unnecessary.

I think these might be related to the book names of the new acotar books.

Silver flames

Gold(en) XX

Bronz XX (for vassa maybe? Bc she is a bird of flame...flame and bronze???)

Okay back to the other things.

The star(sun?) in the middle. When you first look at it it is like a sun but when you take into account that the asteri made this book and there is the starborn symbol of 8pointed star...its probably an eight pointed star.

She stared and stared at the Book—as if it were a ghost, as if it were a miracle—and said, “It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue.” Those quicksilver eyes shifted to Rhysand, and I realized she’d understood, too, why she’d gone. Rhysand said, “I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here … and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it.” (acomaf)

Amren turned to Rhysand and said in that new, strange language—their language: “The glowing letters inked on her back … they’re the same as those in the Book of Breathings.” (hofas)

“I can teach you things you’ve never even dreamed of,” Rigelus promised. “The language inked on your back—it is our language. From our home world. I can teach you how to wield it. Any world might be open to you, Bryce Quinlan. Name the world, and it shall be yours.”(hofas)

Also in the coloring book the ships of the papa archeron have these on them.

Feyre: moon and stars

Nesta: sun?

Elain: eight pointed star 👀

So for feyre it checks out. For nesta...why sun? When she had eight pointed star tattoed on her back(tho now it is gone after the deal with cassian is done) I thought what could the sun mean? The cover of acosf.

That's a sun. Also it is interesting that the High Lord of Day had such a negative reaction to the mask...🤔

And now... eight pointed star for elain? That remains to be seen what it could mean...👀

So thats out of the way and now we will look into the symbol at the bottom and top which I found out is the symbol of Ankh...from Egyptian Mythology.

The ankh or key of life is an ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic symbol used to represent the word for "life" and, by extension, as a symbol of life itself.

The ankh has a T-shape topped by a droplet-shaped loop. It was used in writing as a triliteral sign, representing a sequence of three consonants, Ꜥ-n-ḫ. This sequence was found in several Egyptian words, including the terms for "mirror", "floral bouquet", and "life". The symbol often appeared in Egyptian art as a physical object representing either life or related life-giving substances such as air or water. Commonly depicted in the hands of ancient Egyptian deities, sometimes being given by them to the pharaoh, it represents their power to sustain life and to revive human souls in the afterlife.

Life...soul? We always say how Nesta is death and Elain got the life. Maybe it is more correct than we had thought???

And now the bird on the cover. There is no mention of bird symbol being on the cover of the book.(Im pretty sure of this but if Im wrong...it still stand that the only quote the book of breathings has said with bird is this) So why add bird? The only time Book of Breathings is connected with a bird is this quote:

The other one, the Book hissed. Bring the other one … let us be joined, let us be free. I slid the Book from my pocket, tucking it into the crook of my arm as I tugged the second half free. Lovely girl, beautiful bird—so sweet, so generous … Together together together

Which I totally think it is about Elain and Vassa.

Lovely girl? Elain. There is SO MANY quotes with elain and lovely.

Beautiful bird? Vassa...bird of flame.

And I made a bigger post about this(the other one) if you wanna read it.

So maybe we really need to get the book of breathings back? And Elain will use it to control cauldron?

[koji-haru]

Turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths.

[One last thing for Halloween, I think. Unless anyone has any other ideas!]

Adam was gone.

Those three words kept echoing inside of Michael’s head like some sort of mockery. He kept seated still, eyes blankly staring at nothing trying to process the fact as a cacophony of panicked shouting and yelling sprung around him in the meeting room. 

Secrets. 

Exterminations.

Hell. 

The angels gathered around the table raised their newfound worries about secrets hidden away from them, genocide excused for their supposed safety, and the news of their apparent mortality. However, none of those currently mattered to Michael. None. At. All. But his Adam did, and now– now he was gone. Not dead and in the afterlife like most mortal souls, but gone. His soul erased and unrecoverable. Adam was… was… 

Michael felt the world spinning around him, his vision in a blinding swirl as all he heard were white noise in the background. Then, out of nowhere, he slammed his hands on the table, silencing every angel in the room before storming out without another word. He simply couldn’t stand to be there for any second longer. 

Behind him were quiet echoes between the surprised angels left in the room.

That’s not a good sign. 

Michael slammed the door to his room before flopping unceremoniously face forward onto his bed. His now far too spacious bed. Adam’s scent from this morning still lingered on his side of the bed; his vague outline still present as he obviously didn’t make the bed before leaving. Michael’s hand ghosted over Adam’s side of the bed, remembering the warmth it had. It felt cool now, but wouldn’t get warm again. Finally tears flowed freely from his eyes and onto the sheets as the silence finally allowed him to digest everything. He gripped the sheets as if holding onto Adam’s robe, and begged him to stay, to not leave him alone. But Adam, of course, couldn’t answer. 

—-

The days following the news were hell for Michael. They apparently had to keep every information they were told close to themselves only as they also figured out how to solve this predicament. It was all so bureaucratic. He had only found out about the exterminations, and now they expected him to work with them and keep it all under wraps still, at least for a while. Quite ironic considering he would never have approved of the exterminations in the first place. He really would never… It was a joke. He never meant it… An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over him; he wasn’t part of this, never was, he reminded himself. He tried to shift his thoughts onto something else. Something like, the way that Sera and others who knew about the exterminations merely focused on the repercussions upon themselves, but glossed over the fact that they had lost the first mortal soul in Heaven. No feelings of personal sadness, no mourning, heck, they barely even acknowledged the loss save for times when they needed someone to blame. It was as if Adam was just another disposable tool for them. 

Michael walked into his office, letting anger overshadow the sorrow he felt deep within him. He could deal with anger, he knew how to control himself in anger, but sorrow… he didn’t know what to do with it. Adam had helped him with it before when Lucifer had to be banished to hell, but now, he had no one to go through with it. The papers on his desk had multiplied at least 3-fold since the news, stacked like the ivory towers that littered the cities of Heaven. At least he had something he could keep himself busy with – to keep his mind off of unpleasant thoughts that seemed unwilling to simply fade away.

Day in and day out, he did the same things over and over again – reading, signing and filing hundreds of documents until the clock in his office told him that it was time to go home. But that was the part he dreaded the most: to come to a barren house and sit quietly doing little to nothing, simply experiencing the emptiness of the place as he waited again for the clock to call him to bed, a chilly, too wide bed. 

Tonight was one of the worst nights; he didn’t have work the following morning. Initially, he still came in even during his days off, but others had begun to take notice and their ‘concerns’ had led him to this: forced to take a ‘resting day’. Though, it would be more like a ‘haunting day’ for him. Michael tossed uneasily on the bed, the first rays of the day wouldn’t come out for a few more hours, and yet, he could already feel the day’s weight on him as he laid on his side of the bed, staring blankly at the empty space beside him. He tried to remember what it used to look like; the way the mattress dipped in, how the sheets wrinkled, the blankets looking so warm and cosy…

A sudden loud knocking sound from downstairs burst Michael out of his nostalgia. The sky was still a dark blue, the air was still in eerie silence, no divine soul wandered about. Michael tore his eyes off the empty side of the bed and onto the clock on the wall facing the bed. It was 3 in the morning. Who would visit him at this time of the night? Slowly, Michael dragged himself out of bed, maybe there was an emergency and they needed him to come into work today after all. That would be nice. 

The stairs creaked loudly under each step he took, the stillness of the night amplifying its pitched cries. Finally, he stood by the house’s door, unlatching the locks and opening the door, expecting a tired angel to greet him. Instead, no one greeted him. The cold night air brushed past his face and the dark sky met his eyes, but no living presence stood in front of him. Just as he was about to shut the door again in disappointment, a small package by his doorstep caught his eye. It was neatly wrapped in a cloth, tied tightly with a string. Michael picked it up, curious about the package. It had some weight to it and it was covered in dust as if it had been waiting by his door for some time now. 

Michael brought the package inside, shutting the door behind him before turning on the living room lights. He sat by the couch, dusting the package with his fingers before unravelling the string that tied the cloth close; then, carefully, he unfolded the old, dusty cloth revealing an ancient looking leather bound book with no title nor name engraved on it. And so, Michael flipped the cover over and onto the book’s first page. The page was yellowed and thin as if it could crumble easily if any force were placed on it. It was written in a language he had barely heard of; to the point he wasn’t even sure where he had first seen it – was before the flood? Or just after it? Maybe even before Eden… Regardless, he could surprisingly still read and understand most of it. No. That wasn’t right. Michael watched the words on the page shift slowly into a language he could finally understand. Suddenly, he looked up from the book, carefully scanning the room he was in. It almost felt like there were eyes on him. With a tired sigh, he closed the book shut, leaving it on the coffee table. He was too tired; he’d look more into the book tomorrow, maybe bring it to Uriel to examine. 

Morning arrived much faster than Michael had expected. The sun’s light felt more intense on his pale skin than usual. He cracked his eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and landed on the clock in front of him. It read 11 am. Sleep was quickly kicked out from his system by the surprise he felt at waking up so late. It had been a while since he slept for so long, and oddly enough, he actually felt rather rested this time. He made his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, washing his face, and all that morning routine. The bathroom mirror reflected a pale face with golden waves of hair, dark blue eyes adorned by little golden stars - it was still him, the archangel Michael, though his shine had dulled a little. 

Eventually, Michael made his way downstairs, making himself a quick breakfast - some toast, eggs and sausages accompanied with tea. He got his serving on a plate then grabbed the other plate for– He placed the plate back down on the countertop. He made too much. Again. 

Heaven’s light filtered through the thin curtains bathing everything in the dining area in a beautiful golden glow. So many chairs around the table, yet Michael sat alone, unable to share and enjoy such a quiet little moment with his beloved. He put his fork back down on his plate, sighing loudly to himself in the quietness of the room. He hated this. The quietness, how everything seemed to have become more spacious yet empty, how everything around him seemed dull. Was he supposed to simply continue like this? He wasn’t sure if it was possible, at least for him anyway.

Michael already had his hand on the door’s handle, ready to take a walk and breathe some fresh air to clear his mind as others had recommended him when he took notice of the odd book he left on top of the coffee table last night. Right. He had planned to take it to Uriel to be examined. He went over to the table to grab the book, but instead of putting it in a bag then making his way to Uriel, he simply stood there holding it in his hand. The book had an odd feel to it; emanating an unusual air around it that was simply irresistible to one’s curiosity. Michael opened the book again as he sat back down on the couch. It didn’t appear to contain anything particularly interesting, just a comprehensive knowledge of various plants accompanied by detailed sketches of it, though some of them Michael had never even heard of, but then he wasn’t particularly well versed in botany, that was Adam’s specialty… 

He kept flipping through the pages, eyes idly scanning through the paragraphs of words until the title of the next page he flipped onto stopped him dead in his tracks. Not believing what he read, he flipped the page back, then went back to it, blinking and even rubbing his eyes just to make sure he was seeing right. Around a quarter into the book, in a large print, a title read: ‘Resurrection’. Michael slammed the book shut. That would be blasphemy, an unforgivable offence to his Father. His hand lingered on the book’s cover for a moment before he decided that some fresh air was something he currently needed and quickly left his house, leaving the book on the table. 

—-

Michael didn’t dare even look in the direction of the book. It remained atop the coffee table, and every time he came home, he simply turned his gaze away and walked quickly past the entire living room. He could feel it calling to him; its wicked tendrils trying to pull at his curiosity and desire towards it. Everyday, its grip became tighter, its pull stronger, slowly but surely eroding Michael’s already cracked will. Though it had already seeped into him ever since he had decided to keep the book and hadn’t sent it to Uriel.

Until one day when Michael opened the door, instead of simply rushing past the book, he remained standing by the door, his gaze slowly turning towards the book that sat on the table. It wouldn’t be wrong to simply read it, right? 

With uncertain steps, Michael made his way back towards the book. The old leather felt both new and ancient in his hands, whispering blissful promises in his ear. He made his way back towards that page and held it between stiff fingers. What laid beyond this? Would it actually contain what he desired? Or would it simply discuss its impossibility and how it went against the law that his Father had set at the beginning of time? He wanted, no, he needed to know. And so, he flipped the page.

—-

Lately, Michael had been trying to get as much work done as quickly as possible so that he could go home as early as possible. This appeared to be an improvement in the eyes of the other angels, it seemed that the archangel had gotten his drive back, though he still wasn’t spending much time with the others. Still, progress was progress, right? 

Today too, Michael had finished work early, Sera had noticed. She wouldn’t say he had regained his shine, but at the very least, he seemed to have regained his determination, though it appeared to be a little excessive at times. Sera tried to stop the archangel for a brief conversation, but all she got was a glance, a quick apology, and something about being busy and needing to go. She sighed; maybe next time.

Michael slammed the door shut behind him. The curtains in his house had remained closed ever since he had decided to continue reading the book. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing what he had been doing at home. The coffee table had been moved to the corner of the room, and the floor where it used to stand was now marked with odd, seemingly incomprehensible patterns and words. And on the side, was his slowly growing collection of oddities from all places, including Hell and Purgatory. Apparently, he needed those.

He was just about to fuse one of the items he had collected together using the spell he had drawn onto the floor when he caught a shadowy tall figure standing by the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. His eyes quickly snapped towards the figure, but the only thing he saw was an empty doorway. A cold breeze blew his way, sending an unnerving shiver throughout his being. 

Dinner was the same as usual, Michael sat alone, not knowing what to do with the excess he had made yet again. The only new thing was that the lamb tasted a bit odd. Did he make a mistake? Perhaps he added something that didn’t go well with it and he simply hadn’t realised? He was pretty sure he made it the same way Adam had taught him before. Unless… Michael clenched tightly both the fork and knife in his hands; he couldn’t have forgotten already, could he? No. No, he was simply never good at cooking, that was it.

No matter how many nights had passed, the bed never seemed to have shrunk; always too spacious, too empty, and too cold. Michael stared blankly at the ceiling, unmoving as he waited for sleep to come to collect him for the night. 

“Do you think this fixes anything?”

His eyes snapped open. The room was still dark, the night still quiet. When had he fallen asleep? He turned to his side and his heart froze. 

“Adam?,” he whispered in the dark. 

In the corner of the room stood Adam simply staring at him. 

“Adam..!,” Michael called out, this time louder, as he quickly sat up ready to run towards his husband. But when he looked back up, the corner of the bedroom was empty again, leaving Michael alone in the spacious room once more.

Morning arrived and yet Michael felt like he hadn’t slept at all. He stood by the sink, throwing cold water on his face to quickly wake him up and get him ready for the day – he had much to do. After drying his face with a towel, he looked again in the mirror, just to make sure he looked presentable enough for the day, and huh…did his hair get darker? He looked closer in the mirror; it was still golden though he could see a hint of copper in it. Had he simply not noticed before? Well, it didn’t matter, he had other more important things to worry about.

—-

When Michael arrived home today, he found Adam sitting on the couch, seemingly waiting for him. He looked exactly as he did the last time Michael had seen him; in a dark blue, gold and white robe adorned with spikes. He sat there looking at Michael with dulled golden eyes. 

“What have you been up to?”

Was he seeing right? Was he hearing right? The sun hadn’t set yet, and Michael was still very much awake and not that tired. He hadn’t even properly started the ritual yet. 

“Well?,” Adam asked again, gesturing at the mess around the living room. 

“I– uh,” Michael stammered. What could he say? This was so sudden. “Adam, how..?”

As soon as he took a shaky step forward, however, ‘Adam’ began to appear translucent, his image fading away slowly. 

“Adam, wait!” Michael rushed towards Adam’s figure, hoping to stop him from fading away, but ended up arriving to an empty couch regardless. “...no…please stay with me…,” he whimpered. 

“Then be faster.” Adam’s voice echoed in the air.

He was close. Michael wasn’t so sure before, but after today, he was confident he could do it. The book could help him bring his Adam back, he was sure of it now, and he was more determined than ever. 

It tasted odd. Again, Michael was well aware of his lack of culinary skills, but how did he manage to turn a freshly made soup taste sour? It wasn’t supposed to taste sour, at least not when it was made with mushrooms and chicken… Maybe this was a sign for him to simply give it up. He was never good at cooking anyway.

Michael laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling as per his nightly ritual. If he kept going, who knows what could happen to him? The thing that he was trying to achieve, it was forbidden – a cardinal sin. It could set his very soul aflame, or maybe even worse. The thought itself spread dread throughout his system, grasping, almost crushing, his heart in freezing fear. However, the idea of being with Adam again gave him the strength he needed to be able to wade through the dense swamp of dread and alarm in his head. It would be worth it.

Light arrived once more, illuminating the skies, signalling the start of the day, and Michael was once more getting in the bathroom. He stood there in the mirror, looking a little concerned. At first, he thought it was simply the lighting in the bathroom, but after turning the lights on and off, switching the light’s colours, and even using the light from outside, he knew that wasn’t the case at all. He leaned closer towards the mirror. His hair had gotten a little darker again, but more worrying was his skin. His pale-white complexion seemed to have become tinged with grey. He wasn’t simply pale anymore, he looked as if he had been drained of blood not dissimilar to the sickly forms of mortals before they moved on to the afterlife. 

He placed a careful hand on his cheek. His skin felt the same as before, maybe a little cooler, and he didn’t feel sick in any capacity at all. He just looked…slightly off. Maybe it wouldn’t be noticeable to others. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

Sera noticed. 

The woman, observant as ever, stopped Michael on his way back to his office, just after the lunch break, by simply standing in his way. Her imposing height, a sufficient enough barrier to prevent Michael from going any further. 

“Michael, you…,” she trailed off, not knowing how to describe what the archangel looked like to her without appearing rude. “Your complexion…doesn’t seem to be quite well.”

Michael didn’t dare look her in the eyes, afraid that she might see into his soul and notice how it had darkened. “Yes, I, uh, haven’t been feeling well as of late. So, if you could just let me pass, I’d like to finish my work as soon as possible.”

Luckily for Michael, Sera moved aside without questioning him, allowing him to finally continue his way to his office.

“Try not to overexert yourself. Go home and rest up if you need to,” Sera said before walking away.

Michael let go of the handle of the door to his office. He had essentially just been excused to go home for the rest of the day. That meant he could go home even earlier, and that meant he could have more time to spend continuing his progress with the ritual. Perfect. The sooner he could bring Adam back, the better. 

—-

Today, Michael had brought back with him the blood of a three horned lamb from Hell, and placed the jar that contained it in the centre of the markings he had made on the floor. This should supply Adam with vitality for when he would finally return back to him. He arranged all the components he needed to bring Adam back in their respective places around the markings as the book had instructed. Soon. He would be done soon.

A chuckle from behind gave him pause at what he was doing. There, just behind him barely out of reach, was Adam sitting on the couch, watching the mess that Michael was in. 

“What are you doing?,” Adam asked, his tone mocking. “Are you even trying?” Then he stood up, his gaze looking down at Michael who remained seated on the floor. He walked over and around the mess, his eyes flitting between the components carefully placed around the markings. He stopped at the centre where the jar of blood sat, tapping it lightly with his shoe. 

“You can’t do it,” he stated as his cold golden gaze met with Michael’s lost blues. 

“What do you mean?,” Michael asked back. 

Adam simply turned around, unwilling to meet his eyes anymore. “Which attempt is this?”

…

Silence. 

Adam scoffed, “Exactly.” Then he started to walk away, fading slowly into the air until he was gone once again.

Michael didn’t understand what Adam meant. He hadn’t even tried properly yet. Still glued to the floor, Michael looked at his surroundings, the couches and shelves pushed to the very sides, soil spilt on the floor as the plants’ roots desperately searched for something to hold onto, discarded tools thrown aside, torn and crumpled pieces of paper with odd writing in them, splotches of a dark liquid scattered about. This was his first go at it, right?

This time Michael had simply bought food on his way back home; he just needed to heat it up and then it would be ready. There was no way for him to mess it up. And so, he sat at the dining table, alone as per usual, staring down at the heated up food in front of him. He took one, then two, and then at the third bite, he gave up. It smelled good, it looked good, but it tasted terribly. It was bitter on his tongue, its texture warmly viscous as it stuck around his throat when he tried to swallow the ‘food’ down. It was putrid almost like consuming his own vomit back down. 

He ended up throwing the rest of dinner into the bin. That was alright. He wasn’t particularly hungry tonight anyway. 

The bedroom felt a little warmer tonight, though of course, the bed itself remained cold in its own way. Michael was sprawled all over the bed, still participating in his nightly ritual of blankly staring at the empty ceiling, waiting for the night to end. 

He didn’t have a presence, but somehow, every night in the bedroom, Michael could tell if he had come to visit again before the day ended. Michael turned his head to the side and towards the corner of the room where he first saw him. 

“Adam.”

This ‘Adam’ who visited him every night in the bedroom, was different from the Adam who talked to him in the living room. This ‘Adam’ always appeared at the same corner at the same time every night, simply watching Michael rot on the bed without a word. Michael had tried to call out to him a few times, getting up to touch him, but this Adam never responded and never let him ever get close enough. 

Michael extended his arm towards Adam, pleadingly reaching out for him, a silent plea for reciprocation. He wanted, no, he needed to know if this Adam was real, otherwise… 

But as usual, no response. No movement, and not even a sound. This Adam simply faded back into the shadows as soon as the night had ended and it was time for Michael to wake back up and face the new day. 

Michael held onto the bathroom sink for balance. He hadn’t slept well last night, perhaps not even having slept at all, he wasn’t sure. Lacking sleep wasn’t a new thing for the archangel, there were a couple of times in his very long life where he simply had too much work to do and had to skip sleep. Sometimes, he even went weeks without sleep. And while that did drain him mentally, sleep wasn’t really a physical necessity for Heaven born angels. So it was a little odd, for him to feel so lightheaded while simultaneously feeling like his body was chained heavily to the ground. He didn’t think he could even bring himself to fly today. 

Michael tilted his head back up to face the mirror. His hair had gotten darker again, but that wasn’t anything new at this point; his skin was still a little grey, though his hands appeared to have become darker, nails a little sharper – nothing some gloves couldn’t hide. What else? He looked closer in the mirror. His star markings looked faded and…melted? It looked like it had been misshapen by some sort of heat, as its edges looked a little more liquid than before. His fingers grazed at his face markings; it didn’t feel liquid and it was just as warm as the rest of his body. This wasn’t something he could cover up. He would simply have to avoid everyone for the day, he was good at that. 

Sera had barely seen Michael lately. Sure, ever since the news of the failed extermination, the archangel had become even more reclusive, but lately it was as if he had disappeared altogether. However, she knew that wasn’t the case, his work being done daily was proof of that. Still, Sera was concerned. 

And so, today she decided to keep an eye on his office. She must have already missed him this morning, so she was going to wait for him to leave for lunch; she won’t miss him then. 

Lunch break had arrived, and lunch break had ended – both times the door to Michael’s office hadn’t opened even once. Sera should really be heading back to her own office by now, but if Michael’s office hadn’t opened once, then that meant he was inside, right? She didn’t want to disturb him if he was busy enough not to leave his office, but this was her chance to simply check on the archangel. Right. She would simply make sure everything was fine and then head back. It would be quick. 

Sera knocked on the door; once, twice, thrice. The office remained eerily quiet for a moment, then some rushed movements before the door clicked open. Odd. Michael didn’t usually lock the door to his office. 

“Oh, Sera.” 

In front of her stood Michael, looking more than just haggard. In fact, he looked…off. 

“Um, what brings you here?,” he asked a little nervously. 

“I just wanted to…” She eyed him up and down, taking in his appearance carefully. “...check up on you.” Did he look even duller than the last she had seen him? His skin looked so grey, his hair had an odd red tinge to it, and while she couldn’t get a clear look of his face, she could tell he looked weary. In short, it was as if death had him in its grasp. 

“Oh, well, now you have. There’s really nothing–,” he replied as he inched the door close, ready to leave the conversation. 

“Michael, what’s wrong?,” Sera asked abruptly as one hand held the door open, stopping Michael from shutting her out. “You don’t look well.”

That seemed to have ticked Michael off. He chuckled bitterly, “What isn’t wrong?” This time, he looked Sera directly in the eye, all of his resentment that he kept under cover bubbling up to the surface. The exterminations, the bureaucracy, their callous disregard to the angels they had lost, how they placed all of the blame on Adam. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to calm down. 

“Nothing has been right since then, since I’ve lost my Adam. Please just leave me alone.” 

Then he shut the door on Sera, not giving her a chance to reply. He didn’t want to hear it.

—-

The heart of a leviathan was not something easy to sneak into Heaven. Travelling all the way to Purgatory without being seen was effort enough, but doing so with a stubborn headache made it even worse. Throughout the entire day, a sharp headache around the side of his head had been plaguing him. But he powered through it and got the last thing he needed in Purgatory. Though, oddly enough the forests of Purgatory were already bloody and littered with countless dead leviathans when he got there. Still, he paid it no mind, he got what he needed, there was no need to look further into it. 

Michael arrived back home, slamming the door shut behind him, looking worse for wear than the days before. He headed straight towards the markings on the floor, unwrapping the massive heart, then placed it in the centre just beside the jar of blood. This was the last thing he needed. Now, all he needed to do was recite the incantations and then Adam would be back. 

Today again, Adam was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as he waited for him. His dull gold eyes bore straight to his core, judging him in icy silence. This Adam had been becoming decreasingly talkative, and today, it seemed to stop talking altogether. 

That was fine. That just meant that Michael could work undistracted. The faster he could do this, the better; he just couldn’t mess it up this time. Michael stood in front of the markings, the book in his hand as he flipped to the page he needed and began to read the spell aloud. 

Shadows swallowed the room, encasing it in total darkness. Fast shrieking winds froze everything that dared cross its path. An ominous presence lingered in the room, laying its sharp claws over Michael’s soul, threatening to rip it apart. The floor wept and trembled as the markings glowed a bright red, the components needed for the spell burning and evaporating from within. The blood in the jar increased in volume, overflowing and spilling into the monster’s heart in front of it, setting it back to a wild beating. The heart beating echoed loudly in the room, shaking the walls, causing things to fall apart. Then, there was a thunder-like rumble and everything went dark. 

Michael found himself sprawled on the bed. He wasn’t in his sleepwear. He was still wearing his suit, both sticky and crusty from the blood that splattered on him. What was he doing again? Memories of his attempts flashed before his eyes. He looked to the side, the bed remained cool and empty. Did he fail? He looked back up towards the ceiling, his vision becoming blurry with withheld tears. That might have been his last chance…

Then he felt a dip in the bed. He turned back to the side, and he wasn’t sure if he was willing to believe it. There, in front of him, was Adam sitting on the bed, looking down at Michael. 

“A-Adam..?,” he asked, his voice as brittle as his soul. He reached out, wanting to feel his beloved, but Adam simply moved away, his expression unsmiling. 

“What have you done, Michael?,” Adam asked. “First, you suggest erasing evil, and now you’re bringing evil into your very home. What are you hoping to achieve?”

“I– No, I never meant it that way Adam,” Michael sobbed. “I didn’t mean it. It was a horrible, mistimed joke. Please, I just want you back.”

“You said it would be like a new purpose, to atone for my sins,” continued Adam, his eyes a molten gold that burned through Michael’s being into his soul. 

“I’m so sorry, Adam. I was wrong. I should’ve been more careful–” Michael tried and begged and pleaded just to reach Adam, but the first man simply kept moving away from him, never letting ever get close. Always, always leaving a frozen gap between the two of them.

“How will you atone for this sin?,” Adam asked. 

The room around him shifted, scalding air whipping past him flaying Heaven’s glow off him as it seeped into his soul, burning it slowly. His head felt heavy like there was a new weight to it, his entire body felt broken and everywhere stung. It hurt to breathe as if every breath he took set his lungs ablaze. Then Michael finally opened his dark eyes. The bedroom ceiling wasn’t there anymore. There was no serene darkness that kissed everyone goodnight. 

Instead, there were screams and explosions around him as he stared at a burning red sky.

[kittymaine]

I'll See You In Hell

Summary: The third time Edwin ends up in hell, Charles is there with him.

AN: Written for Dead Boy Ween Day 10, prompt: hell.

This is a little dark, though it does have a happy ending. If there's interest, I'd be down to write a follow-up oneshot about the fallout that happens afterward. Just let me know if you're interested.

Edwin thought that he was done worrying about hell after Port Townsend. Charles had proved he could rescue Edwin even from the bowels of hell, which was a balm for one of the oldest and deepest fears Edwin carried with him. Even more importantly than that, he was now directly in the employ of the Lost & Found department of the afterlife, which he felt meant a certain kind of safety from hell and those there who might still want him.

That was why he didn’t think twice before accepting a job to remove a demon living in and tormenting the inhabitants of an old run down apartment building. He was confident that he and Charles and Crystal were more than a match for the kind of tiny creeping pests that sometimes crawled up from the depths of hell to cause the kind of small horrors that could sustain their kind of paltry evil. It would be barely a day’s work to rid the world of the awful thing and they could pat themselves on the back and consider it a job well done. Or, a job jobbed, as Charles would often say.

Edwin hadn’t considered that the crack the demon had crawled out of might still be open underneath the tons and tons of concrete and rebar that made up the apartment building. He hadn’t considered that something might reach out from the crack and snatch him up as if he was nothing more than a naughty kitten wandering too close to a hawk. And, he certainly hadn’t considered that Charles would be pulled in with him.

He could still remember the look of panic on Charles’ face, as he lunged for Edwin, his strong fingers tangling in the fabric of Edwin’s coat, his teeth bared as he held on and didn’t let go even as they were both yanked backward and downward and into burning flames. After that, Edwin couldn’t remember anything but screaming, his and Charles’ screams mixed together in a horrible cacophony as they were pulled down, down, down, seemingly forever.

When the burning finally stopped, they were both in the dollhouse. Edwin was back in his underclothes and so was Charles. Edwin didn’t understand by what mechanism hell had decided that Charles deserved to be dressed similarly to Edwin, but he hated it in a visceral way he wasn’t altogether familiar with. Charles was dressed in soft flannel sleep pants and a t-shirt with the faded decal of what looked like a children’s cartoon on the front. The t-shirt was so thin and soft it looked like it would rip if someone pulled on it even slightly. The sight of Charles looking at him with terrified eyes, in his pajamas, on the floor of the dollhouse, broke something in Edwin.

He suspected he cried. He suspected he cried rather a lot and rather loudly, considering his only real memories of the next bit of time were Charles shushing him and dragging him along as they began to flee the spider demon that was already hunting them.

Edwin’s memory was a bit funny for a while. He felt the familiar heaviness of his body in hell, something he suspected was a construct that his soul was trapped inside of so long as he resided there, something flesh and blood with nerves and feeling that could only exist within hell itself. But, the feelings of his old hell body felt far away. His fingers tingled, his breath came fast and burning in the tightness of his chest, his legs pumped and his bare feet slapped the dirty concrete floor. But, it didn’t quite feel like it was happening to him.

Charles’ hand was warm in his own, the feeling of him, of the bones in hands shifting when Edwin squeezed them, of his short fingernails digging into the backs of Edwin’s hand, felt like the only real thing in the world for a while.

Until Charles grabbed him hard by the shoulders and shook him, his eyes big and scared, his normally warm brown skin tone washed out to pale gray.

“Edwin, where is the exit?” Charles hissed, the words the first to filter through whatever strange dissociative state he had fallen into.

Edwin shook himself and looked around. So much of the dollhouse looked the same that he couldn’t tell where they were from just the hallway they were currently standing in. It was Edwin’s turn to take Charles’ hand and begin dragging him around corners and creaking doors as he tried to get his bearings. Edwin was confident that once knew where they were in the maze, he could navigate them out. He had spent so long mapping the maze that even thirty years later he could probably do it in his sleep.

But, the more turns he made, the more doors he sneaked through, the more Edwin realized that he had no idea where they were. Hallways that should have turned left, instead turned right or didn’t turn at all. Grime covered windows that were meant to lead him to a different hallway instead left him in cramped closets or empty rooms. Nothing looked the way it was meant to or took him to the place it was meant to take him.

Finally, gasping for breaths that felt like drowning, Edwin had to stop at a crossroads. He turned to Charles, tears already gathering at the corners of his eyes that he didn’t care enough to dash away.

“I don’t know where we are,” he admitted in a faint voice.

“What do you mean?” Charles asked. He reached out with the hand that wasn’t held tightly in Edwin’s to clutch at Edwin’s shirt. Edwin could feel the back of his knuckles against his heaving stomach.

“The maze is different,” Edwin said, the tears starting to fall. “I don’t know where to go. I don’t know-”

“It’s okay,” Charles said, though his eyes were huge and glassy, his fingers trembling where they were still trapped in Edwin’s sweaty hand. “You found the way out of here last time. You’ll do it again.” Charles smiled, but his mouth wobbled and the sight of it only made Edwin gasp harder, his tears falling faster.

“That took seventy years, Charles,” Edwin said, his own voice breaking and falling apart. He could feel his legs shaking. He wasn’t sure if he could run anymore.

“That was then. We’re together this time,” Charles said and his smile solidified. He squeezed Edwin’s fingers in his. “Together, we can do anything.”

Edwin sobbed. Charles was so kind and sweet, his words almost hurt as they sank into the broken glass that it felt the rest of his chest was made of.

“Charles,” he gasped.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say and they never did find out, because the spider found them then and all they could do was scream for the next few minutes.

---

After the spider got them the first time, it seemed the gloves were off. Edwin wasn’t sure if it was intelligent enough to let them run until they realized there was no escape, but the timing seemed too perfect to mean anything else.

They were caught in the hallway crossroads and torn limb from limb, both he and Charles crushed and killed quickly, only to come back gasping and quaking in each others arms just a few feet away.

Clutching at each other’s hands, they got up and ran away, but they didn’t get far.

They died over and over, crushed, dragged, bitten, and ripped apart, but always together. The spider seemed to realize fairly quickly that if it caught one of them, the other wouldn’t stray far and risk getting separated. It started grabbing one of them and taking its time making its prey scream and beg until it could find the other and repeat the process. For a while, Edwin and Charles got stuck in a loop of one of them dying slowly and regenerating just in time to listen as the other did the same, neither of them free long enough to run and not willing to leave the other behind to save themselves.

It was brutal. Edwin wasn’t sure if being in hell with Charles was better or worse than being there by himself. At least when he was by himself, he didn’t have to listen to the person he loved most in the world suffer and die over and over. But, in between deaths, the comfort and the sensation of touch was such a boon that it almost made up for it.

After what might have been days of dying over and over without respite, Edwin and Charles started to get better at losing the spider in the maze. Edwin was getting the hang of the new maze, muscle memory that had atrophied after years without use coming back in a rush. He dragged Charles around corners and into hiding places just in time to evade their pursuer, but they couldn’t linger anywhere long enough to risk it doubling back and being found. Even if the maze had changed, the spider itself seemed to be he same, and Edwin could anticipate the movements of the horrible thing better than he could those of his own body.

Charles, for his part, got better at staying quiet, at watching the tells of Edwin’s body for sudden turns or stops. It was hard to look at him sometimes, as he got quieter and his clothes dirtier and bloodier, the life draining out of his eyes with every death and near miss. But, Edwin couldn’t focus on that, only on trying to keep them alive for as long as he could. If they could get very good at evading the spider, he could start mapping out the maze again, if only mentally.

While they were hiding, they clung to each other. Edwin suspected that Charles drew as much comfort from their newfound physicality as himself.

As ghosts, they could feel each other more so than they could their physical surroundings or other living people. Ghosts gave off energy and they usually had strong memories or feelings about what they felt like, what their clothing and hair felt like, and some of that could be communicated to other ghosts through touch. Edwin had thought that he had been able to touch Charles before, but being in hell together made him think that he must have forgotten what touching another person felt like.

When Edwin dug his fingers into Charles’ back, crushing him against his chest, he could feel Charles’ shoulder blades flexing beneath his fingertips with each gasping breath. He could feel the humidity of Charles breathing against his neck. He could feel the warmth of his skin where his forehead pressed against his shoulder.

“You smell good,” Charles had whispered to him during one of their short breaks where they could hide, and hold each other, and shake.

Edwin was confused by the statement for a moment. There were smells in the dollhouse, but they were mostly awful. The stench of rotting bodies, of damp concrete, of dusty broken shards of ceramic. He pressed his nose into Charles’ hair and inhaled and he smelled all those things, but there was another smell too. Something warm and alive and human, something that must have been Charles’ smell, the confluence of his skin and sweat and blood coming together into something that belonged only to him.

He had to suppress a sob, the clicking of ceramic doll heads outside their hiding place loud enough to indicate the spider was only a hall or two away, still searching for them.

“You too,” he breathed against Charles’ hair. Charles clutched him tighter. Edwin tried to hold onto that moment, to that memory of some new aspect of Charles discovered only in the pit of despair.

---

Time is strange in hell. Edwin had little to no grasp of time his first time there. He knew he had been in hell a long time, but if he had been pressed to make a guess, he probably would have said that he was there a few years, maybe five at most. Finding out that actually he had been in hell for seventy years had been a shock, one he still wasn’t sure he totally had absorbed. He said it often: seventy years, seventy years, seventy years in hell, in the vain hope that if he said it aloud enough he would start to believe it, let alone understand it.

The second time Edwin was in hell felt much longer. The dollhouse had been the same, but either he had forgotten how to run from the demon chasing him, or the demon was just much more bloodthirsty and enjoyed the chase less, or maybe Edwin just wasn’t trying very hard to get away.

He had died a lot. There had been many times that he had died, woken up in a new body, and then sat crying and shaking until the demon finished with his old body and began to take apart his new one. It had been hard to work up the effort to run, to try and hope for escape after living so long on the surface and being so happy. He thought about how incredibly long seventy years was and about how long he could realistically expect Charles to wait for him. Maybe seventy years for a ghost wasn’t as long as it was for a living human, but Edwin still didn’t really understand why Charles had remained behind with him in the first place. Maybe with Edwin gone, Charles would have no reason to stay on the earthy plane. Maybe in seventy years when Edwin finally crawled out of hell for a second time, Charles would be long gone.

Without Charles to hope for, Edwin found it hard to work up the effort to try and escape. As a result, he died a lot.

His second stint in hell felt like seventy years, even if Edwin realistically knew that it wasn’t that long. Still, he would have guessed he had spent a year, at the least, running and dying and crying. To hear that it had only been hours at the most had been another hard thing to accept.

Edwin tried not to think about hell, once he was out again. Thinking about it only made his waking nightmares worse, which made Charles and Crystal worry about him more. So, it was better not to ponder the experience.

Still, when the office was quiet and Charles and Crystal were away, sometimes he would think about it and wonder about how time in hell passed. Did it really fluctuate wildly between too fast and too slow? Or was it that his own perception became untenable after only a short time under so much stress and pain and with no outside indications of the passage of time? It wasn’t like he could count the days by the rising and falling of the sun. If you could separate the horror of it all from the question itself, it was quite interesting.

This third time, he would have guessed they were there for months. He based that on nothing more than his own gut feeling and the slow deterioration of Charles’ usually optimistic personality to something more brittle and quiet. In reality, it was only three days.

After three days in hell, the spider changed its behavior. Edwin could tell immediately that something was different. He and Charles were running, their slapping footsteps loud in the empty echoing halls, the screeching laughter of the demon behind them drowning out their own loud gasping breaths. It should have caught them many times over. It had an opportunity to smash Charles there, a chance to throw Edwin into the wall at another point, but it didn’t take them.

Edwin had been so distracted by the sudden change in its behavior, that he looked over his shoulder while he ran, trying to find some visual clue as to what it was doing. A rookie mistake, one he was ashamed of making as soon as he felt a doll head crack to splinters under his bare foot and send him crashing to the hard stone floor.

Charles had been running hard enough that Edwin’s hand was ripped out of his when he fell. Charles barely had time to scream his name before the spider was on him.

But, there was another break from routine. Instead of crushing Edwin’s back beneath one of its awful feet or tearing into his flesh with its sharp teeth, it snatched him up, folding its cold arachnoid leg around his back and pressing him tight against his belly while he screamed and struggled to get free. Sometimes, the demon would drag them back to a certain area to kill them, but usually it wasn’t so careful not to hurt them. It could eat them just as easily with a missing leg or a crushed pelvis as not. Something was wrong.

“Charles! Run! Get away!” Edwin screamed, arching his back to try and see his friend.

Charles was hesitating in the center of the hallway, his arms halfway up, his hands clenching around air, likely wishing for his cricket bat more than anything.

“I can’t! Edwin!” Charles shouted.

Then, it was too late. The demon snatched up Charles, tossing him like a rag doll against it’s own body in a hard crack of flesh against porcelain. Charles was pressed roughly against Edwin’s side and then both of them were trapped again with one of the demon’s awful legs pressed like a bar across their back. It held them tight enough that it was hard to catch their breath between the pressure and the jostling of the demon’s running.

“What’s happening?” Charles gasped. So, he noticed the odd behavior too. Clever, as always.

Edwin fisted his free hand in the shoulder of Charles’ shirt and held on tight.

“I don’t know,” he said. He kicked and struggled against the demon, but only managed to cut himself on the sharp edges of the broken porcelain that made up its body.

They didn’t have long to wonder. After only a few seconds of running down the hallways of the dollhouse, the demon passed through wide wooden double doors that Edwin had never seen before and then unceremoniously dropped Edwin and Charles to the floor.

“Thank you. You are dismissed,” an unfamiliar voice said from in front of them. While Edwin gasped for breath against a dusty dirty rug, he heard the click of the demon’s many legs retreating behind him and the bang of the doors swinging shut.

Edwin forced himself to look up and take in his surroundings. He and Charles were in a room he had never seen before. The room had dusty warped wooden floors and wood paneled walls that weren’t in much better condition. There were decorations around the room that would have been at home in his own time, marble busts and heavy carved wooden furniture, but it was all aged and damaged and coated in as much dust as the threadbare stained carpet he was currently laying on. Charles was still face down, shaking and gasping into the old rug. Edwin put a hand between his shoulder blades in a move that was quickly becoming habitual and felt his friend struggle to control his breathing.

Standing over the two of them was an androgynous person dressed in all white that Edwin didn’t recognize. They looked down at him like he was a nasty cockroach they would very much like to crush beneath their boot. The other person in the room was the Night Nurse, looking as coiffed and perfect as usual, though her brow was wrinkled as she looked down at the two boys cowering on the floor at their feet.

“And, here are your two dead boys,” the androgynous person said with a lazy wave toward Charles and Edwin.

Night Nurse dragged her eyes away from them, turning toward the other person with her chin tilted up, a frown still making a little furrow between her eyebrows. “We appreciate your cooperation,” she said curtly.

Turning back to Charles and Edwin, she began to flap her hand at them. “Come, boys. Let’s go,” she said briskly, gesturing behind her.

It was only then that Edwin noticed the pure black rectangle in the shape of a doorway sitting strangely in the center of the room. Hope throbbed to life in him like a stab wound in his chest.

Stumbling, Edwin climbed to his feet, dragging Charles along with him. “Yes,” he breathed, “Thank you.” He held Charles by his hip and upper arm and hustled him toward the door. He didn’t dare glance at the mysterious person in white, though he could feel their eyes on him like a physical touch as he stumbled across the room and through the door.

The second he stepped across the threshold, it was like a film was peeled off his skin. He felt lighter, he felt less. Charles still hung from his arms, but he couldn’t feel his weight, or the warmth of his skin, or the texture of his clothing. Looking at Charles, the answer as to why that was quickly became evident. Gone were the soft pajamas coated in grime. Charles as back in the school uniform he had died in. Looking down, Edwin saw that the same was true for him.

And then Crystal was throwing her arms around both of their necks, crying and burrowing into their shoulders and Charles was throwing his arms around her waist and dissolving into sobs, his tears hidden in her soft brown curls.

Edwin put a hand each on both their backs, because it seemed like the thing to do, but he felt a million miles away. He turned to look back at the doorway they had just walked through, but it was already closing, Night Nurse latching it shut with a decisive click.

She turned to look at him and her face softened, which seemed like something her face shouldn’t be able to do. Edwin stared back at her while his friends cried in his arms. He felt hollowed out and empty. He felt that probably the normal thing to do would be to cry with them, but he was having trouble feeling much of anything at the moment and being a ghost again probably wasn’t helping.

Feeling the eye contact with Night Nurse had become uncomfortable, he turned his head and buried his face into the place where Crystal and Charles’ curls mixed. He breathed them in with lungs that didn’t exist. He pretended he could smell them both, the human smell of them. He tried to imagine what Crystal’s warm butter scent would smell like mixed with Charles’ scent, which he only had memories of because he had been dragged to hell.

He tried to press the thought of their smells into his heart, into its deepest most secret place, to remember if he ever needed it. And, he felt quite certain then that he would one day need it.

[vizual-static]

DBDPromptober Day 2: Death

She’s been watching those boys for a while now. 

Well

Not a while, really. There are spirits that have been around for centuries longer than those two. Some that have persisted for thousands of years. And for a being like her, a handful of decades is hardly a grain of sand in the face of the eternity that stretches out around her, time pulled thin like taffy as the cycles of humanity loop back on themselves like candy on a sugar hook over and over again. But by mortal standards, she knows thirty five years could be considered a while. 

She was there when each of them died, of course. 

Her heart ached for him when the first one was dragged down to hell with his gaggle of cruel classmates. He looked so frightened there on the table, the callous laughter of the other boys the last thing he would hear before the demon arrived and the basement erupted into shrieking chaos. She wished she could have offered him a kind word or some small reassurance that everything would be alright in the lands beyond.

But Lucifer’s legalease bound her not to interfere as the summoned demon obliterated the schoolboys and wrenched the sweet soul from the sacrificial lamb on the make-shift alter. The schoolboys didn’t know what they were doing, and sadly, for most of them, their stories ended in their ugliest moments, souls forever calcified with adolescent hatred and small mindedness instead of meeting the growth or rot of the average human’s lifespan. And the innocent boy on the table, well that poor thing was ended with all his worst fears realized– with his alienness having done him in. An unfair moral for his life, and an even more unjust punishment for his afterlife. But her hands were tied, so she bore witness to his end, alongside the others, and mourned for this moment and all the suffering that awaited him after. 

She sighed for the second one seventy three years later, as his muscles spasmed in shivers and the blood pooled in all the wrong places in his guts. She was waiting for him as he waited for sunrise. Only she knew he would be meeting her before the dawn.  

What she didn’t know was that another soul would arrive to take her place in ferrying the bruised boy into the afterlife with a far more tender touch than she was permitted to extend in the moment, offering him a warm lantern and a bedtime story to soothe him off into eternal rest. It surprised her too when she realized she recognized the soul as the sacrificial lamb, and she wondered unworriedly how he had made it back to Earth from his terrible afterlife. Regardless, it made her smile to think that his next few decades might be more comfortable, and this cold boy before her would go out with a bit more comfort. 

She didn’t expect the next bit either. Plenty of souls have unfinished business and choose not to move on with her, but as she had prepared to reveal herself, she was surprised that the battered boy decided, almost impulsively, to remain with the spirit who had just played guardian to his death. She wondered what his reason was, but it was not her job to push him either way, merely to offer the choice and provide some company on the journey to the Sunless Lands. 

The pair argued about her imminent arrival, and as the cold boy made his decision to stay, she decided to play into their little game, unmasking her power bit by bit as the room began to glow blue with her presence. The boys ran. She laughed at their youth, and wished them both the peace of finding whatever they were looking for as they roamed the Earth a while longer. A moment longer in the grand scheme of things. 

In the decades since, she’s seen them a dozen times, always ducking around corners and hiding outside windows after they both help some lost soul find the peace they deny themselves. She smiles to herself every time. It’s so sweet. They’re so good. So human in the flaws they work to mend, even after death. It’s such a joy to know souls like them are choosing to do good in the world even as they search for resolution. 

She’ll be waiting for them all the same. Each in their own time. She will continue her theatrics for their benefit, with beautiful wings and grotesque tendrils and colorful warning flares to announce herself to them, if they feel they need the “chase” to keep them going. But, for now, it seems the pair are content with this life after death that they’ve built for themselves. So she’ll wait a while longer. 

(@dbdpromptober)

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Afterlife Lessons

Summary: Sam’s awareness of ghosts extended to exactly two pieces of knowledge: Danny’s parents are ghost hunters, and ghosts are dangerous and she should stay away from them.

Unfortunately, neither of these things becomes something in her favor when she and Tucker are kidnapped by a ghost and turned into ghosts themselves— or half ghosts, apparently, something clarified to them by Amity Park’s resident hero Phantom, who also promises to stick around and help them figure out their new forms and powers.

But while Sam is certainly grateful for the help, now that she’s regularly spending time with their local ghost protector, she’s noticing things about him that seem a little more familiar than they should. And also that Phantom’s strong confident hero persona might be a bit more of a facade than anyone‘s realized.

Author's Note: I did an invisobang this year! It was a ton of fun to write, and (once the art is posted), I'll post the art in each chapter it matches with! I'm gonna be posting all fifteen chapters in rapid succession, so get ready for a lot of posts from this blog! I'm going to make a masterlist in just a minute, and I'll also tag every post with the title.

Art For This Chapter: @torchturtle link

...

Sam’s awareness of ghosts extended to exactly two pieces of knowledge, and both of those things came from Danny.  The first, that Danny’s parents hunted them, which he’d told them in embarrassment shortly after they met.  The second she’d learned shortly before it had been revealed to everyone that ghosts did, in fact, exist— when Danny had told her ghosts are dangerous, stay away from them.

Sam had admittedly been more than a little surprised when Danny told her this.  Like she’d said, he tended to be more embarrassed by his parents’ work than anything else.  Granted, he’d never said outright that he didn’t believe in them, and there were a couple of times Sam had seen him taking precautions that she knew his parents had recommended.  But she knew he’d just be uncomfortable if she brought it up, so she didn’t.

And then, suddenly, he was very serious in his telling of her that ghosts were dangerous, and she should avoid them at all costs.  Sam hadn’t had the first clue where the shift had come from, but he’d timed it pretty well, because it was around that time that Amity Park started getting regular visits from ghosts.  Luckily for them, one of those ghosts included Phantom.  And while the town in general was split on him and Danny was still just as insistent in telling her and Tucker to stay away from him, Sam saw the things he did.  The ghosts he fought.  The people he saved.  There had never been a doubt in her mind that Phantom was an ally.

She hadn’t ever really expected to count on that fact directly.

But then, she’d also never been directly targeted by a ghost before.  She couldn’t think of much else this one in particular could be doing, though.  The vampire-looking ghost knew her and Tucker’s names, it singled them out specifically on the way to school, and it had grabbed them and tied them up on seats in the back of a plane, of all things.  That was a little difficult to misinterpret.

Tucker was still breathing very quickly across from her in his window seat, and Sam was trying to make sure that he didn’t have a panic attack, while also looking around the plane for anything they could possibly use to help themselves.  She didn’t even know ghosts had planes, much less ones this… fancy.  This thing looked fancier than her parents’ private jet, which made her hate it for two reasons.

“Tucker,” Sam said quietly, drawing his gaze.  “You see that compartment up there labeled with a parachute?”

“No,” Tucker said immediately, looking very intently down at the floor.  “No, I absolutely do not see it.”

“Tucker.”

“Sam, you are insane if you think I’m risking jumping out of a plane!”

“You’d rather get to whatever secondary location this guy is dragging us to?” Sam snapped, still keeping her voice down.

“Right, because obviously the guy who kidnapped us and is dragging us somewhere is going to leave us with perfectly made parachutes that won’t break halfway down to the ground,” Tucker snapped back, which… was actually a decent point, though Sam loathed to admit it.

“Look, do you have a better idea?” she asked instead.

“Try to escape while we’re not several miles in the air?”

“When we’ve made it wherever we’re going so this guy has a home field advantage?”

“I don’t know Sam!  We don’t have a ton of options!” Tucker snapped.  “I still think I’d rather be kidnapped than dead!”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked seriously, giving Tucker a look, and then jerking her head backwards toward the cockpit.  “We don’t know what he wants.”

“I don’t want to die, Sam,” Tucker said desperately.  “I think we have a better chance of not dying if we stay on the plane until we get wherever we’re going.  Plus, you can’t even stand up to reach that compartment anyway.  Let’s just… stay put.”

Sam gave a huff of irritation and a little bit of fear, but gave in to Tucker’s fairly decent points and leaned back in the plush chair.

“Okay,” she said.  “Let’s try and work this out, then.  We’ve been flying for what, an hour now?  Where do you think we’re going?”

“We’re heading north,” Tucker said, with a nod towards the window.  “Based on the way the sun was rising earlier.”

“Great, so that narrows it down to a little less than half the continent,” Sam groaned.  “Do you think he’s staying in the U.S.?”

“Do I think a ghost cares about a country’s borders?  I have no clue if we’re going to Canada.  Maybe he’ll just keep flying north and drop us in the middle of the ocean.”  The second after Tucker said it, he seemed to realize what he’d said, and his face turned a little queasy.  “I hope not.”

“Me too,” Sam muttered, looking out what little of the window she could see from her position, given that she couldn’t shift in the chair at all.  She couldn’t see the sun anymore.  She was glad Tucker had spotted it earlier, even if it didn’t give them a ton of clues as to where they were going.

They didn’t have to wonder for that much longer, however, because it wasn’t more than five minutes later before a disgustingly pleasant voice announced that they’d be beginning their descent, and that they hoped the landing was just as horrible as the takeoff had been.

Sam glared up at the ceiling as if that was where the voice was and tried to come up with a map in her head.  They really hadn’t been flying for more than an hour.  That wasn’t enough time to get them to Canada, was it?  They couldn’t be much further than Wisconsin.

Once they got off the plane itself, they were taken towards some sort of castle that looked like something her parents could afford to build.  Which might not be that far off in terms of expenses, given there was an actual runway in the back.  Maybe this ghost happened to be a friend of theirs, and this was Sam’s parents’ newest way of threatening her into wearing floral print.

The ghost that had kidnapped and brought them here, however, didn’t seem super keen on answering any questions.  Its only comment before it grabbed them both by the arms and dragged them towards a back door was “I hope you two had a terrible experience,” paired with a supervillain smirk so dramatic it was almost ridiculous.

He clearly was not super worried about being gentle about dragging them, if the ache forming in Sam’s wrist was any indication.  But she didn’t have much time to focus on that.  Instead, as soon as her feet were on the ground, she started looking around for escape strategies, but the ghost was holding their arms way too tightly for running to be an option, and she didn’t feel confident in her ability to get both her and Tucker into the forest surrounding the castle.  Especially considering how far away it was.  The grounds for this place weren’t small.

The castle itself was white brick, with gold roofs and absolutely covered in green flags.  The door they were being dragged to looked like an entrance to a basement of some kind.  Sam glanced over at Tucker to find him looking around too, but after a second he glanced at her with a helpless look on his face, meaning he hadn’t noticed anything she hadn’t.

Sam took a deep breath, and mouthed to Tucker, “On three.”

Tucker bit his lip, clearly scared, but nodded.

Sam brushed past her own fear and looked back on the door.  Their smartest option would probably be to try and break for it when he had to shift his grip in order to hold on to them and go for the handle at the same time.  He’d be doing that any second now, she just had to wait for—

A cold feeling swept over Sam just before she reached the door, and before she could question what that meant the ghost dragged her and Tucker right through the solid door and into the castle.

Sam blinked.  Well.  So much for the shifting his grip plan.

“Uh,” Sam said, looking at Tucker.  “Three!”

Tucker started pulling backwards on the ghost’s arm as Sam did the same, but it didn’t even seem to phase the ghost.  In fact, he looked down at them and laughed in obvious amusement.

“Oh yes, that’s sure to work.  He really hasn’t ever let you near ghosts before, has he?”

Before Sam could figure out what the hell that meant, the ghost floated upwards just far enough to lift Sam and Tucker off the ground, robbing them of any force they could have attempted to use to get away.

Sam, in a last desperate attempt, leaned up to try and bite the ghost’s hand, but the ghost did the same thing to just their hands that he’d done to get them all through the door, and Sam’s teeth went right through it.

She turned to Tucker.  “Okay, you have any other ideas?”

Tucker’s only response was a scared look.

They went through a couple more doors the same way as before, and then the ghost pulled them down through the floor, into some kind of lab.  It looked eerily similar to the one in Danny’s basement, right down to the portal over on the wall.

“Well, I think we’ve made excellent time,” the ghost said, flying them straight over to that very portal.  “Let’s set you both up.”

“Or, we could not do that?” Tucker said nervously.

“Who are you?” Sam snapped, glaring at the weird vampire ghost.  If they weren’t going to escape, she might as well get as much information as possible from him.

“Oh, don’t worry about it child, I’m sure you’ll get a much better explanation from Daniel.”

Sam blinked.  “Danny knows you?”

The vampire ghost didn’t reply, and instead flew over closer to the portal.  Sam leaned back away from the swirling green she had no desire to go through, but before he could toss them inside, she heard a whirring sound, and the portal powered down to leave an empty mechanical tunnel.  Sam glanced over to see… the same vampire ghost?  There were two of them?  The second one, however he was there, was pressing buttons on a box next to the portal.

A box that probably wasn’t supposed to be blinking like that.

“Uh,” Sam said, as the vampire ghost holding on to them carried them into the tunnel.  “You wanna fix your box thingy?”

“No thank you, it’ll be more useful like this for now,” the second vampire ghost said, though Sam couldn’t see him anymore.  “Though it’ll be quite a bit of work to fix the portal after using it for something like this.”  He sighed, like their kidnapping was an inconvenience for him.  “Oh well, can’t be helped.”

The second vampire ghost flew in and took Sam from the first, then carried her over to the side of the tunnel, seeming barely even to notice Sam’s struggles.

He and the other one then strapped her and Tucker to the sides of the portal, and flew off unconcerned.  Sam saw the reason why a moment later, the restraints didn’t budge no matter how much she tugged on them, and she could see Tucker doing the same thing across from her.

“Regret not trying for the parachutes yet?” Sam snapped.

Tucker opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, there was a yell of “VLAD!” and a loud crash from the room outside of the portal.

Both of them turned, and in the part of the room that the portal wasn’t blocking, Sam saw Phantom shooting blasts across the room, presumably towards one of the vampire ghosts.

Tucker let out a relieved sigh.  “Nope, I think we have a better shot now,” he said.

Sam couldn’t blame him.  They may not have ever interacted with Phantom personally, but that didn’t mean they didn’t know what he was capable of.  If Phantom was here to rescue them, they were safe.

Phantom, however, didn’t seem to realize that, because the second he turned and spotted them inside the portal, his eyes widened in surprise and what looked like fear.

…Okay, maybe they should be a little nervous?

Tucker seemed to realize the same thing, as a second later they both went back to struggling.

Phantom started right for them, but one of the vampire ghosts— Vlad, he’d said?— instead slammed into him from the side and out of their view.

Sam couldn’t see what was happening anymore, but she could easily hear them.

“Let them go, Plasmius,” Phantom snapped.

“Or you’ll what?  I’m looking for specifics here, my boy.”

“Specifics?   I’ll smash your teeth in, now let them go!”

There’s a loud sigh.  “No, you see, that’s the kind of thing that makes me think this is necessary in the first place.”

Sam glanced across the portal at Tucker, who shrugged, looking just as lost as her.

There was the sound of an ecto blast, and then Plasmius flew across the room.  Phantom started immediately for the portal again, but before he could reach it, the other vampire ghost shot a blast at him that sent him back out of view again.  The second one then flew after him and reappeared a second later, holding Phantom in a tight restraint that seemed much more difficult to hold than Sam and Tucker’s had been.

Sam tugged hard on the restraints, then stopped when she felt her wrist start to strain in a way that couldn’t be good.

“For the record,” she said to Tucker.  “We totally should have tried for the parachutes.”

Tucker gave her a desperate look.

“Sorry it had to be this way, child,” came Vlad’s voice from out of view, “but you really should get better at solving your problems yourself.”

Phantom looked towards Vlad, apparently long enough to not like what he saw, because then he looked wide-eyed back towards Sam and Tucker— and that was the moment Sam knew they were fucked.

Something behind them in the portal lit up, and Sam turned her head towards it in time to see a bright green light.

Phantom screamed “NO!” loud and desperate, and then Sam’s world erupted.