#Blood and gore

[daniluvsyou]

gore site recs pls🙏

[taygra5shaon]

FIX-IT AU 2

bullying Cazador is a thing good and right 🖤

[latexjester]

we did it curly! we saved the ship!

[chaseacer-ghostedition]

My second piece I made for @notoverjoyed @invisobang fic fading away

My first piece is here

Shout out to by my fellow artist on this fic @auroboroch their art here

[fraugwinska]

I've seen fanfics about Alastor × deaf reader

But what about.. blind reader? Maybe they lost sight in some battle

How they would be confused meeting Alastor at first: did someone turn the radio on- oh, thats a demon talking!

And how confused would be Alastor as his feelings started to grow towards the reader: he just enjoys their company! What else can he do when they like to listen to him spilling the tea and just rambling about everything because of his soothing voice? His favourite listener

Then.. their relationships get a bit different as in another one relaxing evening together Alastor asks if they want to see him..

And on their confused silence he answers bringing their hands to his face for them to "read" his apperience..

Just thought it would be hella fun to read! Not good enough at english, sorry for mistakes

I love your writtings! 💕Stay hydrated and don't dare to overwork yourself ☝

Hiya lovely Anon! <3 I put my own little spin on your idea! I love fics like those, and this one sat in my drafts for ages - I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for this ask! <3 Warning: Contains depictions of attempted SA, please read with caution - MINORS DNI!

The bookstore was always quiet in the evenings. Well, it was quiet almost always.

Hell wasn't the most... appreciative place for tombs and books that didn't have porn or egregious murder in them, so your shop wasn't really frequented much. Occasionally, a new sinner would find their way in, not yet taken by the unpunished excessiveness Pentagram City had to offer, and would buy a book or two, never to be seen again. The rest of your clientele were loyal regulars, mostly elderly demons and imps getting books for their masters in other rings. It wasn't much, but enough for you to get by, live a simple, modest life. Your shop was mundane enough as to not attract the more dangerous ones the city had to offer, yet held the beauty that only an antique bookstore could, with a reading room like atmosphere, mismatched armchairs scattered in between the high bookshelves and an old radio on the counter playing in the background.

That didn't mean there weren't moments you'd have to get yourself out of some serious situations. On rare occasions, the patrons of your bookstore became too demanding or rough with you, thinking they could intimidate or screw you over because of your... handicap. After all, how would you see the hand reaching in the register, or the little spell book slipping into the inside pocket of a jacket. The blindness you were born with on earth hadn't left you in your death, but the enhanced sensitivity of your other senses made things easier for you. You had learned to take your losses, unwilling to let these moments ruin your confidence in your work or diminish your spirits.

You navigated through the little store with ease, putting laid-out books back into their designated places - feeling the backs of the books like it spelled their names, and motion memory guiding you through the maze of furniture and shelves - your plain, long felt skirt softly brushing this edge and that wood panel. What you wore wasn't fancy, modern or stylish attire, but it was comfortable enough. And who were you kidding? At the end of the day, nobody cared for your less-than-ordinary appearance, but yourself.

Your mind had been drifting around between random topics for a while until, on your last trip back to the front desk, your round ears picked up the bell on your door and the faint sound of staticy talking, coming from the direction of the counter. A customer, at this hour no less! But you were sure you had turned off the radio hours ago... maybe the old thing was finally breaking down, you thought with a little sadness. You hurried to it, still hung back in your thoughts and babbling as you turned the desk to shut the little device off so your customer wasn't disturbed.

"Hello, I'm terribly sorry if you're bothered by the radio, I should have turned it off. Feel free to browse through-" you paused mid-sentence as the air shifted slightly. You had turned the familiar knob but the filtered voice didn't stop talking. Your ears moved around, as if the source was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, trying to determine its source, when the other occupant of the store laughed at the surprise written on your face.

"Apologies aren't necessary my dear, but that wasn't the little device here but me, asking for service. Although I'm quite fond of a little old fashioned tune - comes with the title of the Radio Demon, you see." He talked with amusement, or something in his tone seemed powerful and dangerous. As his words started to make sense to you, you held a sharp breath, struggling not to take a step back. Of course you've heard of Alastor, the Radio Demon, but you've never had the honor (or dread) of meeting him in person. Rumors had spread around in hell a long time before you'd even gotten here, stories of a powerful overlord who'd broadcasted the screams and torments of his victims, spreading fear to everyone, from sinner, to lesser demons, to even other overlords themselves.

"W-welcome to my store, sir! What can I help you with today?" You smiled pleasantly, hoping that showing him respect and going out of your way for a courteous interaction could possibly keep you from being torn to pieces. You heard the ruffling of fabric - a hand reaching into a pocket, wrapping it's fingers around a thick piece of paper, along a low, distorted chuckle. "A good friend of mine recommended your store to me, I am looking for a few... unusual books, hopefully to be found here."

You waited into the silence, one second, two, three. When he said nothing, only static noise slowly increasing in volume, you decided to speak again. "May you tell me the titles, sir?"

"If you'd take the list, little mouse, everything I need is on it." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it now. You didn't know when his presence had approached so close to where you stood, and couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. You sighed, pulling the darkened glasses off you wore day in, day out, revealing the white irises that gave your blindness away. After a sound like a record scratch, you managed a helpless smile. "I fear if it's not in braille, it won't do much to hand me that."

The other demon was silent again, but the crackling static had dropped, and before you had time to add something that wouldn't get you gutted, he'd barked a laugh, sounding genuinely amused and entertained.

"My, isn't that a bit cliché, my dear? A blind mouse? Any chance you have two siblings?"

That joke was new. You dared to husk out a little laugh, too, your hands gently resting on the counter top. "I hate to disappoint, but no. I even have my tail still, no farmers wife with a knife."

There was a change in his stance, his coat sweeping the air as you heard the list was laid on the wooden surface in front of you, surprisingly not crushed or crumbling under the power of his hand. Coldness swept like waves of fog over the front desk and your hands, you pulled them away with a shudder, confused, but your patron just hummed.

"There, that should've done the trick. I'd rather not want to read my little.... requests aloud, they're a rather curious bunch, I believe. Very useful, though, especially those for more creative types in cooking."

You reached for the paper and thumbed through the braille letters one after the other, feeling a long list of more... taboo tomes you were sure wouldn't have even been mentioned in any respectable catalogue. Luckily, you were a glutton for oddities and curiosities, and with a small smile of pride you found that you had every book on the list on hand. Maybe it was this pride thatgave you the confidence so that you didn't reply and instead swiftly jumped ahead, bustling through the rows and pillars of bookshelves. Every step was calculated, from the short staircase to the tiny nook where you stored spell books and tombs of dark magic, navigating past all the tables and furniture to the particular bookcase containing ritualistic cookbooks. Once you had a feeling where a book would be located, you searched the titles by stroking the backs with the pads of your fingers, tapping quickly and analyzing the material and little bumps and nicks of the spines. Once found, you traced the edges of the piece and drew up a mental image in your mind to check it wasn't bent, dirty, torn or had any parts missing. Your fingers were your eyes, and they were keen.

As you carried the rather heavy stack back, the Radio Demon hadn't moved an inch from where you'd left him, as far as you could tell. It had been hard not to acknowledge him throughout the ordeal while your brain just went on autopilot after realizing he didn't mean to kill you, at least for the moment. On one hand, that was comforting; on the other hand, it was absolutely horrifying.

"Here you go, sir. Please, feel free to check if they are up to your standards." You set the books down carefully, counting the number of thick covers in the stack to be sure and your fingers brushed sharp talons as apparently the Radio Demon reached out to inspect the books as you offered. With a sharp inhale and a heated face you quickly drew back, stammering apologies. He only chuckled faintly, the static surrounding him crackling as if it, too, was amused.

You stood silently behind the counter and listened to him flipping through the pages, turning the books around to read their contents, humming here and there. He seemed content with the lot and you were sure that once he'd paid, he would leave, hopefully sparing your meager existence and not leaving any destruction behind.

"Very well! These will do perfectly, little mouse. And, I have to say, you have a very interesting collection. The quality of your inventory exceeds what Zestial promised. You might expect a few more visits from me in the future, if you don't mind."

The last sentence wasn't a question. It was a statement, underlined with the sound of a heavy stack of bills placed on your counter. Your hands confirmed what your ears already suspected - your patron well overpaid you.

"Not at all, sir, but you gave me too much mon...."

But the air shifted again, and a chime and a thud later you knew he had already walked out, his laughter the last thing you heard before the door clicked shut.

“...ey.”

What a peculiar man, you thought, still processing the entire experience. His voice had been darling, no wonder he chose radio as his medium. You were sure his smile you've heard so many demons whisper about was wide and predatory, but he had been so polite. Even the nickname he'd given you had been charming, compared to the names and remarks you've had thrown at you by lesser demons, and you shook your head at the ridiculousness of your face flushing at the memory.

'Little mouse.'

After a long moment, you finally counted the money and put the amount he tipped you aside in your hidden safe, making a note to yourself that you would give it back to him when he'd return. If he'd return.

Weeks passed and the Radio Demon had kept his promise and visited again. And again. And again.

The first time he came back and you, already flustered, offered to give back the surplus money he'd paid you, he was baffled before he heartily laughed and ignored your attempts to return it to him, instead buying three more books and leaving you with even more undeserved cash in your hands.

Almost once a week he'd return to your store, sometimes he'd have a whole list of books he'd want to buy, and he almost never left your store with empty hands. Sometimes he'd sit down in one of the many chairs to peruse a tomb you set aside for him, predicting he'd find interest in it as you learned his tastes in literature, and he'd hum almost happily when you found a new curiosity or a grimoire that was especially hard to come by. And sometimes he just came in for a quick visit, not even intending to buy a book but just to chat a bit. With every encounter your initial apprehension shifted into appreciation, so much so that you'd grow to eagerly await his return, the sound the bell made when he enthusiastically swung the door open or the slight distortion of your radio when he changed the station to one that suited his mood better.

You were a bit enchanted with him, if you were honest. Not only had every interaction been intriguing and entertaining, he'd been one of the rare visitors who hadn't maliciously mocked or threatened you, or worse. And you found that you enjoyed the small banters you could have with him, the fact that he treated you no differently than anyone else. It was refreshing, and each of his visits put a spring in your step for days, no matter how hard you tried not to think about him.

By the time several months had passed, he became your favorite client and he seemed to have an everlasting interest in your inventory as well as yourself. You learned that he was quite a wealthy demon with a seemingly insatiable appetite for entertainment, and always with an eye for quality, which you vowed yourself to provide in return, if only to keep him coming back. You found you could spend hours with only him at the store over freshly made coffee, discussing various literary concepts and historical events he used as references, and it was a delight to laugh together about some particularly odd rituals in books like 'Old Spells to Cure Thievery' or 'Blood Rituals of the Flaying Kink'.

Sometimes, when you'd hand him a new find or a heavy tomb, his hands would lightly brush yours and his voice would drop and become a bit softer, quieter as he cooed his nickname for you - 'Little Mouse'. With your lack of vision, you didn't know how his face looked nor how his expression would've surely changed - but his voice took on a tone that would be fitting for a date, and the touches made you shiver lightly and tingle and you felt heat spread all over your chest and the pit of your stomach when he did. If your body betrayed those reactions on your face, he wouldn't tease you for them. At least, you never noticed if he did. Maybe he had the grace to simply not remark on them, you thought, for once grateful for your blindness so you wouldn't have to see your own - surely ridiculously dumbstruck - expression reflected in the windows of your storefront. But the physical contact between you became more frequent, more deliberately made, and you'd caught his own quiet sigh every now and again when he lingered for just a moment longer before the doorbell chimed and he'd leave again.

One evening, as you were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow's customers, a soft knock on the already locked door pulled you out of the haze of your radio's gentle tune. Turning around, you moved slowly towards the sound of the interruption, adjusting your dark glasses.

"My apologies, but we're closed for tonight, please come back tomorrow."

There was no reply, no sound of footsteps and your ears strained to catch a whisper of a sound, to find a new hint as to who was outside. Another knock, harder now, sounded and this time it took all your courage to approach. Your hair stood at its roots as your hands rested at the wooden door, your senses tingling that you better not open - that danger stood in front of your store.

"Please go, we'll be open again tomorrow."

Your reflexes, acting faster than your brain, made you stumble back as the glass of your front doors shattered into a million pieces. In a panic you tumbled to the floor, hands over your face as the pieces broke apart on impact. There were voices, rough and foreign sounding, that accompanied the stomping of boots. You shuffled back on the ground, trying to get out of the way before being stepped or kicked upon, reaching to the walls and bookshelves to find some stability to guide you in getting away from what was coming towards you.

"T-take what you want, please, I won't stop you. Just... just take it and leave."

Your words were shaking in fear and the little hope that a verbal warning and submission would placate the robbers. To your horror the voices - two, if your panicked mind didn't fool you - erupted into raspy laughter and you realized then that money might not be the only thing these demons were after.

"You were right, Hank. This is going to be easier than I thought, look at how helpless the bitch is."

"Told 'ya, Tommy Boy. An' the best part..." supposedly the one called Hank said deviously, and you were yanked up at your wrists and thrown over what must've been your counter, your glasses slipping and breaking at the impact and your eyes dwelling with hot tears. You recognized this voice… just a few days ago this demon had come into the shop, just as Alastor was about to leave, lingering around the shop and leaving quickly mumbling a half-asses excuse without buying anything after you asked if you could help him find something and Alastor's static crackled dangerously. The same smell of sharp sweat and wet tobacco lingered around him, making your stomach turn. "... she can't tell anyone who we are. Hoh, look, her eyes are some freaky shit, 'n you bet her tits 're freaky, too. S'not even our damn birthday but looks like we got ourselves a gift. 'Ya wanna go first?"

"You know me - Don't mind if I do."

With a heart beating out of your chest and shallow breaths, you tried to feel with your only free hand for something, anything, to defend yourself with. You had to defend yourself. Anything would be better than what horrific thing they were about to do. There was only the flat, leather bound accounting book close by, but it was better than nothing, and in a motion of impulse and fear you slashed with it into the general direction you felt the weight of Tommy settle onto the counter top above you. His complice bellowed angrily, making your ears ring, and Tommy snatched the weapon from your hand to throw it away. His breath smelled of filth and cold ash, the skin of your throat burned when he wrapped his calloused hands around it.

"We're gonna show ya your fucking place, worthless blind cum-chunk bitch, an' when we're done with ya..."

There was a sudden, instant sound of feedback, a wet splatter and a horrified scream and hasty, fleeing footsteps before a wave of relief washed over you as your neck fell free from the intruders grasp and you heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, my dear fellow, do go on. I'd love to hear the end of that sentence." A low, distorted chuckle followed. Alastor sounded different - menacing. Bone-chilling. If those words would've been directed at you, you would've been mortified. But it sounded like honey in your ears, knowing who the recipient was. "Ah, how silly of me - surely it's much harder to speak without vocal chords."

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as the sounds of violence became ever more gruesome. A whipping sound, a wail and a choked gasp and two stomach-churning thuds of something hitting the floor.

"Well that's not handy at all - you can't even sign your pathetic pleas now. How unfortunate to be in such a vulnerable position, isn't it?"

A thud, then another - your stomach turned as the room got flooded with a different type of warmth. Your lungs and chest stung from the stench of iron and decay and your throat hurt as you realized one aura had vanished from the store and Tommy was most likely reduced to a fleshy pile on the ground. Suddenly you felt a sharp but warm, strangely long but familar hand cradling the back of your skull, pressing your cheek against a broad, angled shoulder, another wrapped tightly around your shoulders, resting under your ears. It was quiet, now - you could only hear your staggered breathing and Alastors static that had gone down a notch or two. You thought his breathing had become more labored, too, when he slowly, gently, let go and straightened you to bring you to a standing position, his hands shifting into their usual shape as they came to rest lightly on your upper arms.

"Are you alright, dear?" His voice was almost back to the tone you were so fond of - almost. There still was an undertone, a dangerous sharpness. Your fingertips instinctively grasped and searched until they met with the familiar texture of his clothing and you nodded.

"Y-yes... I think so, yes. What - what happened to the other one?"

There was a deep laugh, one you haven't heard yet from him. "Oh, my dear, no need to fret over that. I'll deal with that pest later. I should've dealt with him the moment he stepped into your store. An oversight I intend to shortly redeem."

It should have frightened you - should've made the situation so, so much worse, hearing that Alastor planned more torture for that vile creature, probably even an equally gruesome death like the one his friend got. But his words only calmed you. Made you feel... safer. Your fingers lingered on his suit longer than you expected, tracing the detailed seams of his lapels, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the fabric, feeling the details of the cool, metallic buttons. And he let you. He stood still, allowing your hands to see what your eyes couldn't.

"I can't decide if it's a blessing or a shame that you can't see the carnage I caused. Although I am pleased that you didn't have to look at the ugly faces of those cretins who tried to defile you." He took your hands from his coat and placed them softly on his face. "But maybe… you can try to envision what your savior looks like, hm?"

His hands left yours again, though you found the sensation and feeling of his touch remained where he placed them. Your heart fluttered as you couldn't keep yourself from running your palms and fingertips over his skin, cautiously tracing his angular jaw, making out the distinct feeling and sharp lines of a toothy grin. Then you pushed further, fingers running along a slight bow and over the indent where his brows arched, his cheekbones prominent enough you felt the warmth of blood flushing under the skin as the mental image of his face got clearer.

You were in awe that you could do this, that he encouraged it even, but he allowed you the tender moment, making a muffled humming sound and exhaling quietly under your soft, curious touch. You realized at last that his eyes were closed for you, the skin there slightly pliant and firm at the same time. With the tips of your fingers, you followed the firm, straight bridge of his nose down the length of it and he inhaled sharply when you brushed his lips. The familiar sound of static increased just enough for you to realize there had been complete silence aside from your soft and his steady breathing. He opened his eyes again, slowly taking your hands away to leave a feathery light, lingering kiss on your knuckles as he hummed thoughtfully.

"Now, let me clean up this mess, we don't want you stumble over any... unpleasant bits." You heard a snap and felt the air whirring around you, filling with a thick, fog-like sensation as you heard your floors creaking, wood mending and cracking and tiny bits of glass swirling around you, piecing itself together and returning into their frame. Not even a minute later the shop felt normal again, the unpleasant smell gone as well, and with it the overall apprehension the threat had caused.

"Thank you, Alastor. Truly, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't..." you started, pausing as his hands wandered gently around your face to put on your miraculously repaired glasses. He laughed softly, tapping a gentle, slender finger on the tip of your nose.

"Luckily we didn't find out, did we? Ah, but, unfortunately, I'd say the night has been spoiled for us, given that there's another vermin to take care of." He walked behind you, carefully setting the accounting book you had used as an attempted weapon into your hands, his taloned fingers curling gently around yours as if to make sure you had a proper hold on it.

"You lock up when I'm gone, little mouse. And who knows - Maybe we'll continue to see each other... tomorrow night."

And then you felt another gentle peck, this time on your flushed cheek, and the door opened with the bell ringing, the faint crackle of a radio fading and his heavy, signature scent of burned wood and bourbon lingering around you as you hurried to bolt the doors shut, heart racing painfully in your chest at the prospect of adding even more parts of the Radio Demon to the image in your mind.

[prettysilkk]

Well do you?

[moon-bacon]

Happy Halloween!

[serpentgoat]

Personally I don't think Enki would go with the option of killing his twin sister cause it doesn't happen in the Canon either. But I stil wanted to draw it!

Additional frames

[selineram3421]

*stares into the void*

Dizzy For You

Lovesick Alastor X Reader

Warning⚠

⚠ blood/gore, reader is really into creepy alastor, kisses, consensual biting *cough*, cuddles, fluff ⚠

You were in love with one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell.

The Radio Demon.

At the moment, he was in the process of courting you. Or in what the new generation calls it, dating.

Now you're not that old of a demon but you still use the term courting as it feels more genuine.

The way he spoiled you made you feel like the only demon in Hell. Of course there were limits but like any good relationship, you both communicated.

You knew he wasn't one for physical displays of affection out in public, unless it was holding you close or kisses on the back of your hand.

It didn't bother you one bit.

In fact it made you happier knowing that your affectionate actions were private. Only for the two of you.

You could only see him that way.

As you spent time working on a few orders, making nameplates and engraving names and or numbers on them, you even got an order from Alastor! He had wanted small but fancy door plaques for room numbers. Some in the hotel having been missing or needing touch-ups.

Quickly finishing the last plaque, you packaged them and set out to return to the hotel.

A fun little gift your lover added to your shop was the door in the corner of your back room, it being a portal to one of the hotel back rooms near the lobby.

He didn't like you being so far away after all.

When walking into the lobby, you didn't notice the commotion outside until you heard a familiar laugh.

It was filled with static.

Downright dark and sinister that got a chill to run down your spine.

As if hypnotized, you walked towards the sound and saw sinners being ripped apart, blood and guts covering the ground in front of the hotel. Your eyes widened when seeing the Radio Demon eat a demon whole.

Then he turned to face the door after finishing the carnage.

"Alastor.", you gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

He was in his tall demon form, smiling and covered in blood. The metallic scent filled the area and you felt slightly dizzy at the smell but also couldn't help being drawn in by the sight.

Seeing you stagger back, Alastor rushed towards you, shrinking slightly to get through the door.

"Darling? Are you alright?", he asked, pulling you into his hold.

You shivered and hid your face in his chest, feeling the blood smear onto your skin. The room feeling a lot stuffier than before with your quick breaths.

"Take me to the room.", you whispered and tugged on his coat. "Please."

Using his shadows, both of you appear in your room and you quickly pull him into a rough kiss.

The deer made a noise of surprise, static buzzing as his grip on you tightened.

Moving away from his lips, you peppered his face with kisses, making sure to kiss under his jaw before making your way towards his neck. Blood now on your lips and hands, heart racing at the taste.

"Fuck.", you said shakily, looking up at the deer and finding his cheeks dusted bright red. "Alastor."

His ears perked up at his name and he held you tightly, hand rubbing up and down your lower back. "Yes my dearest heart?", he responded, leaning forward to place a peck on your forehead.

"Please bite me."

You shivered again with a blush as he leaned down with a chuckle, his sclera pitch black with a lustre from his glowing irises.

"￦¡+h pl€@sμre~"

Tilting your head to the side, you let him sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. A small noise escaped from your lips as you clung onto his coat, whimpering when he pulled back and blood starting to run down your neck.

"Quel goût raffiné.", he kissed the bite mark. (What a refined taste.)

He gave you a gentle smile as he caressed your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

"Let's get cleaned up.", he said softly, guiding you to the bathroom.

After a refreshing bath, you both got dressed into nightwear and got ready for bed. Alastor being extra sweet and helping you get comfortable next to him under the covers.

Feeling absolutely content, you smiled and cuddled up against him.

"I'm sorry for pouncing on you."

"Nonsense.", he brushed it off as he glided his hand down your thigh, pulling it to rest your leg between his. "I enjoy your affection."

"Hmm..", you felt your eyelids droop.

"Sleep.", the deer demon whispered, kissing the top of your head. "I'll still be here in the morning."

You let out another hum before submitting to a pleasant slumber.

*sees radio dials in the darkness* Oh shit.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[diejager]

just hear me out for one second.... what if hunter was a titan?... yk like aot (attack on titan)

reader looks totally normal, nothing indicating that they were something other than human. Even laswell wasnt 100% sure on what reader was. A stirring mystery within 141 that they all collectively decide to ignore.

then one day, they were out on a mission that was going horribly, horribly wrong.. incorrect information, sabotage, dangerous illegal weapons, low ammunition, scarce supplies, severe injuries, etc.. you name it.

141 was backed into a corner. definitely not the first time something like this has happened in their career...but they always manage to find a way out. Always making it back home, injured sure- but safe..alive.

this time it wasn't the case. there was no way out, none. death was knocking on the door and soon they had to answer.....

and unfortunately reader was the first to greet death.. a clean shot to the head by a sniper

one minute reader was laying in a pool of their own blood and the next they turn into this gigantic humanoid beast.

in a fit of rage, reader starts to completely destroy the battlefield. not a damn soul alive besides 141.

bodies scattered from the sea to the forest and heavens above ..nothing but pure gore and blood.

reader standing over the battlefield bloodied from head to toe, watching the devastation below.

(This is really long im sorry)

Cw: implied death, blood and gore, Canon-typical violence, titan!reader, gun violence?, tell me if I missed any.

The last thing Horangi remembered hearing through the angered hisses and growls, Price screaming at Laswell and her informants through the coms to find a way out their thick predicament was the shuddering shot that boomed through the air. The hair of his arms raised when he watched you turn towards the sound, your wide eyes and choked breath. You flinched back and lurched forward, hands grasping at your bleeding throat, choking and gurgling on the blood that rose from your wound. He rushed to pull you into cover, biting his lip at your pained expression, you were choking on your blood, dying by the thing that substained you, that cycled life and oxygen through your body. 

Your words were sputtered, splattered crimson on Horangi’s mask as he fussed over you, your pinched brows and scrunched nose, the angered gleam in your dulling eyes and your bloody and sneering lips. You pushed him away, stumbling forward with one step at a time, risking being shot a second and third time, but you kept marching away from them, ignoring their attempt to stop you and reach for you. 

“B- bast- ard-!” He heard you screech.

He didn’t know if some God or Gods favoured you or if you were extremely lucky for still being alive, a second bullet landing by your feet and a third scratching your arm. You raised a bloody hand, palm facing you, the crease and groves of every fold a dark red, then you bit down on it. Hard. He admired the strength behind your bite, the crunch of your skin breaking under your teeth and red exploding, he could only imagine how painful it was, but you were already in so much agony, your body’s probably numb. 

And suddenly, lighting sparked around you, bright yellow and loud, scarily close to you before one thick and dangerous one struck where you stood. Within seconds, he gaped at the mass of muscles, red fibres interlocking and sticking to ligaments and fat that kept it together, tying themselves to bone and tendons, wrapping away the red and white with a wide array of red and blue, building a system of veins that were finally covered by skin. In your place was a giant —a titan, one that he’d heard through the grapevines of black markets and hushed whispered and rumours from the underworld when he gambled his life away. 

The titan - you - let out a loud scream, head thrown back and arms reeling back, fingers clenched in anger, deep sated vitriol that carried you around them. He could only stare on in amazement as you trampled over the surrounding enemies, bending down to grip a man, your thick fingers clenching around him and squeezing the life out of him, leaving his entrails spilling out of his broken abdomen. You moved around stepping and squeezing them to death, a trail of carnage behind you, bodies strewed about, spines broken and heads rolling. 

He let you go on without a word, his breath stolen away by you when you slumped over, your nape breaking open with a loud hiss, steam billowing up the air from how hot your body ran, you arched out, body curled backward with a loud sigh. Horangi stared at you, unmoving and unbreathing, and only moved when Price rushed to you, climbing your titan body to pull the rest of you out, your arms and lower body still attached to it by thick, red muscle. Your feet stuttered, eyes blinking tiredly while you leaned on Price, groaning and rubbing the tension out of your temples. 

He realised the blood that was supposed to stain your skin and clothes were gone, evaporated in the heat of it. Your wound healed and energy spent, you were tired and grumbling about wanting to sleep, face pinched in irritation or annoyance, something he could feel. And without any complaints from them, Price had called for evac and waited at the LZ, everyone huddled around you, sharing the same amount of awe and surprise in their expression. You were a wonder to him, a beast of legends that Horangi had only heard of, but he had many, many questions and curiosities that he wanted fulfilled.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[taygra5shaon]

SHADOW OF DURGE 2/4

here he comes out banite lord❤️

so, after some adjustments I divided the story in 4 0art, because the last one is .....a lot gory...

but still, enjoy!

[blessed-bruises]

Am I pretty enough to love back? No, not yet.

kink/porn/sexually centered blogs please stop interacting with this post. your content is triggering and I don't want my art posted alongside it

[callmemaeverick]

Gray

Disclaimer: This is pure indulgence okay. It's my interpretation of the Force, my view of the Jedi after ep 8, and my theory of what happened. P/S: pls read tag for TWs

PPS: If you didn’t know yet, Manny did a futuristic Sci-Fi podcast where he voiced a soldier. Theres quite a bit of injury involved.. if you wanna have some auditory aids for his voice and umm.. other stuff. It’s called Marigold Breach, it’s on Apple Podcast, Spotify, Realm and Youtube. (fork, I sound like an ad. Im not being paid I swear) WC: 1.6k

Never before in the time you were intuned with the Force have you felt so lost. So… unbalanced. When normally, tasks and missions were approached in a calm and collected manner, with a clear and peaceful mind, it had since warped into frantic breathing and a thundering heart, engulfed in compromising emotions.

Every sound grated, every jolt of the ship you were flying felt like a quake and you scrambled to keep the small craft stable. You couldn't afford major turbulence, not with him in such a state.

But you went as fast as you could, desperate to get into lightspeed so that all traces of you and your passenger are gone. As far as you could, though you doubt that you would find a corner of the galaxy that could hide you both. They would find you, you know this to be fact. It would only be a matter of time.

Fear threatened to consume you and for once; you were tempted to let it. After what you have seen, after what you have discovered; the teachings of the Jedi no longer seemed as righteous as you once thought it was. You scoffed, feeling stupid. Not once did you ever question your environment or the teachings of the Masters' as you rose through the ranks, from fledgling to Padawan. You took their word as law. After all, they were the Jedi and you wanted to be just like them.

Now, the thought of the Knights you had so venerated left you angry and confused. Hypocrites; all of them. All they wanted was power. Power over the Republic. Power over the Senate. And they had the audacity to condemn those who wanted to keep power for themselves.

Screw them.

xxxx

The planet you randomly chose was amber in colour, ringed with a manageable asteroid belt.

You were never really good at landing. In your impatience, you would misjudge the thrust and would sometimes send the ship careening too fast. And it was always resulted in a bruised chest; and an even bruised ego after the lecture your Master would unleash upon you.

The thought of your Master sent a lance through your heart; but you pushed it away and fought to calm down as you attempted the landing. You had wanted to be gentle, to make it a smooth landing. You managed; barely. The moment you touched down, you were out of the pilot's seat and into the belly of the ship.

He was exactly where you left him on your cot, stomach down. Had you not been so intuned with him, had you not been able to hear his soft breaths, you could have sworn he was dead. He should have been dead.

The memory of what you witness in secret breached your mind. You remembered the shock you had to bite down, the scream you had to swallow when you witness what happened to him.

How could she do that, to her own Padawan.

Shaking your head of the dark thoughts, you pulled out the emergency kit, grabbing saline and gauze and bacta patches into your arms. On your way to him, you also grabbed an IV drip.

The smell of charred flesh turned your stomach and you swallowed to keep nausea at bay as you kneeled by his side. His tunic was in taters, pieces of the material burned and melted onto his skin. Dirt and mud slicked his back, mixing into the red exposed flesh. You choked down a sob. You whispered his name.

A soft groan reached your ears, then a gasp.

"No, no, don't move." You reached for his shoulder, grasping gently, and you could feel the muscles tightening. "Shh… I'm here. It's just me."

Recognition smoothed his features and your name escaped his lips before his eyes fluttered open. His hand lifted but before it could reach your face; his body spasmed and he cried out.

"Fuck," You moved quickly, gently peeling his ruined tunic from his body. The moment you made contact; he whimpered. His body shook with the agony and your heart broke once more. "I know… I know. I'll be quick, I promise." His back was torn violently, almost shredded, and the worst of the injury was where the wounds connect, overlapped. Burnt muscle was exposed, black and red and oozing blood. Apologies fell from your lips like a prayer, begging for forgiveness for what you are about to do. Then, you flushed a gauze pad with saline and as gently as you could, wiped down the dirt.

You worked as carefully as you could, ignoring his cries and sobs. His body tensed then shook then tensed again every time you touched him. "Almost there. I'm almost done," Your voice cracked, the efforts to hold back tears and nausea proving too much.

As the pile of soiled gauze beside you grew; the blood trickled to a stop and finally, you were able to place the bacta patch on him. "This will help, okay." You told him, but he had long since passed out. You were mostly talking to yourself. "It's going to be over soon."

Once the bacta was on, you sat back and finally let your tears fall. He was unconsciousness, but alive. Thankfully alive. Wiping your face with your sleeves, you stood up and finally initiated ground security protocols.

xxxx

Something was approaching. You looked back and all you see was darkness but you kept running.

Exhaustion weighed down on you. It had been days. Fear slithered in your chest, wrapping around your heart, constricting your lungs. Anger and shame flared inside you, threatening to consume.

A crack of lightning, and a snake lunged at you and your back seared in an unimaginable pain. White hot and blazing. You felt your flesh rip and your vision blacked out. And then, cold. Freezing cold.

You ended and you began.

xxxx

The gasp that tore through your throat hurt like a mudscuffer. You blinked, frozen for a few seconds before feeling came back into your limbs.

The thing about Force dreams was that they don't normally show you the good. Most of the time, it was almost always something dark. But a Jedi is supposed to control their emotions, to release one's self and let go. Selflessness, it was the mark of a true Jedi.

Despite you renouncing the Order, you went through the motions of calming yourself down, or reigning in your emotions.

It’s been a few days… or what felt like a few days. The planet cycle is foreign to you and you’ve essentially lost track of time.

You looked over at the other occupant of the ship and sighed heavily. He was twitching as well, in his sleep, something you were familiar with.

You walked over and gently checked on the bacta. It was one of your last supplies but at least it was working. The wound was healing. Scarred… but healing. There will be mobility issues and you doubt if he would ever get his full range of motion, much less the ability to swing a saber again. Still, you wouldn't put it past him. He is as stubborn as you are.

You remembered growing up with him, the both of you in the Academy.

He was strong. Both of you were, but unlike you, he was the nail that stuck out. Where you obeyed, and did as you were told, he questioned everything. Where you hid your true emotions, he was not afraid to let it show.

And you were glad for it. Had he not done what he had done, questioned and researched, poked and prodded, you wouldn't have seen the true face of the Jedi Order. You wouldn't have known that they were just as power-hungry and backstabbing as the rest of the pirates in the galaxy. They just covered it under the guise of the greater good.

But in the end, he was also the one who paid the price.

They did not know you stole a ship and followed them. They did not know you saw them string him up and strip him of his lightsaber.

You heard his terrified pleas but they fell on deaf ears when it came to his Master. And yours.

He was a child, barely 20 years old. You both were, but they did not see him anymore. The pupil they once treasured. In their eyes, he needed to be eradicated. Just because he wanted to draw power from a source that was forbidden to them.

The buzz of an activated saber drew your attention to the lightwhip of Master Vernestra and your eyes widened in shock. Surely, she wouldn't, you thought.

But you were wrong.

All it took was one strike and his scream would haunt your nights for a long time.

You waited until they left. You had to. And once you were sure they were no longer around, you rushed to his side. It was then you decided you were not coming back.

The sound of your name pulled you from your anger and you turned to see him watching you.

"You're causing a quake," He remarked, and the chattering of loose metal around you ceased. You took a deep breath and reigned it in.

You scooted closer to him and leaned in close. You took stock of him. He was pale but at least he was lucid. His dark brown eyes were clear, which was another good sign.

"So… the favored pupil… finally left the nest, huh? Didn't think… you had it in you."

And he was teasing you.

And it broke you. You drank him in like a person obsessed, trying to make sense of what you were feeling. Anger, fear, confusion, relief. And something else you couldn’t name. But they roiled together inside you making tears pool in your eyes and your lips wobble.

"What… What are we going to do?"

His touch on your face and your eyes closed. He was real. He was alive.

"We'll survive." He told you. "We'll survive."

FIN

[prettysilkk]

[gallifreyanhotfive]

The Fourth Doctor Dies

A five-minute-timer quick sketch

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Leverage 4x6- "The Carnival Job"