#ETERNITY DEVIL THAT'S DEFINITELY ETERNITY DEVIL RIGHT !!!!!!!!!!

[problemcore]

THAT WAS SUCH A GOOD CHAPTERRRRRR (chainsaw man chapter 113)

[thatanimeramenchick]

What would happen if when the alastor and the reader were human, they met... Human type! Alastor being a yandere and devouring competitors for his beloved, but he never got his happy ending with the reader when he was human... But now the reader went to heaven for being a good person and Alastor to hell... What would happen?

Alastor and Eternal Separation

He shouldn’t be surprised, how this turned out.

In the eyes of the world, he was the devil, and you were an angel. That’s why he had liked you. You had been sweet, gentle, kind. You had a patient disposition, putting up with verbal abuse as you worked at the shop downtown he frequented to find new suits. And you always, always had a smile gracing your features, at least when you were facing others. There was a tender charm about you that had seemed otherworldly compared to the night life he was familiar with.

The attraction had been slow, strange. Alastor had supposed he simply had high standards. That had to have been why it had taken so long to find anyone who made him feel the way he did around you. While most women were quite lovely, there was a certain spark, an inspiration he had always found lacking, but there was something about your innocent, charm that had particularly touched the more tender side of him. Even after finding you fascinating, there was none of the vulgar talk that often was thrown around when men discussed their gals or even their wives. It was more of an appreciation of beauty and personality than any kind of fleshly desire. The way one wishes to have a classical work in their home to be admired, studied, relished again and again and again until one fully understands it down to the artist’s deepest intentions.

He supposed a part of him thought that that must have made his love pure, more upright than that of other men, especially the one’s who dared look at you with such a filthy gaze. If anything, he had been a white knight of chivalry, disposing of those disgusting animals. And yet he had ended up in hell, separated from you. He shouldn't be surprised as corrupt as this nasty world was, that the very root of the system be broken, separating the two of you.

There was only one recourse, one solution to this problem. Clearly he wasn’t going to be going up there anytime soon.

So he had to find a way to bring you down here.

No, you didn’t deserve hell, but he’d protect you as he always had. He’d create his own heaven for you. To do that though would require power and influence in the heavenly realm, and there was only one person in hell with authority where he could even have a chance of his influence gracing heaven’s door.

It was time to make a visit.

---

Some thoughts: I feel like it's hard to say what he would do, other than I feel like Alastor definitely plays the long game. He'd spend a lot of time ruminating and experimenting to find a way to bring the two of you back together, even if it meant upending heaven itself. There may be a time period, where he feels like he is defeated, but I feel like he has a knack for digging up information that others don't want him to know. He'd bide his time until he gets the right piece and then act on it.

[luffington]

OMG im obsessed with the fic with Cora and Doffy X Reader! i was wondering if i could request just Corazon X Reader? im absolutely crazy about the idea of sweet Cora having those repressed sadistic urges, and his struggle with wanting to be soft and kind, but cant help liking the darker and meaner, its just. UGH SO GOOD

Maybe the reader could have picked up on that a bit and is teasing him into giving in to those urges (which they're totally into lol)

Also i love your fics sm! keep up the great work <3

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: donquixote rosinante (corazon) x gn!reader

➤ word count: 1.3k

➤ warnings: dom!corazon, possessive!corazon, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), praise kink, established relationship, fem reader

RIGHT ITS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT!!! we barely know anything about cora outside of what law experienced and we'll probably never find out more so.... character interpretation!

my first draft of this had a paragraph where the reader acted bratty to try to coax out his mean side and he almost starting crying.... i took it out because i couldn't do that to him (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

this ended up being pretty similar to the other fic (read here) but i hope you like it!

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Corazon was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Sure, he was a master of deception – hiding his Devil Fruit powers and tricking his brother into trusting him was definitely not an easy feat. His anger issues could use some work, even though the reasons behind his outrage were always justified. But his loving personality and strong sense of morality were very real.

He never doubted your kind heart, either. You had joined the Donquixote Family simply because you had no other options, and dealing with his crazy older brother was better than starving on the streets. Corazon was able to relax around you, be silly and affectionate without being judged by his cold-hearted coworkers, and finally speak after long stretches of staying silent.

But there was more to him.

Doflamingo seemed to be the black sheep based on what little you knew about the biological Donquixotes. A rare case of madness in an otherwise well-intentioned family. However, the brothers still shared the same genes and the same horrific childhood. And even though Corazon never discussed his experiences in the Navy, he certainly witnessed terrible things that still weighed on his mind.

Your boyfriend tried his best to keep any deep-rooted darkness away from you, but it was unhealthy for him to repress every negative emotion. You wanted him to feel comfortable around you. He didn’t need to be an angel all the time.

One time, the eternally clumsy blonde almost fell trying to hover above you in bed. Not wanting to crush you with his ten-foot tall body, he caught himself by grabbing your arm. Hard. You squeaked in surprise and he immediately apologized, but dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises stained your skin by the end of the night.

Early the next morning, when he thought you were still asleep, he lightly traced the marks over and over. You caught him staring at them throughout the day, too, looking more intrigued than upset. He littered your neck, chest, and thighs with hickies the next time you fucked, and you realized inflicting pain wasn’t what turned him on – he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to mark you. Those were his fingerprints on your arm.

So much was taken away from him at a young age that of course he wanted to claim you as his own. Hickies were more conventionally sexy than bruises, so he was less ashamed about admiring them in front of you and telling you how pretty you look. Even gently rubbing a large one on your neck during a Family meeting, which made his brother huff and tell you to get a room. Corazon did get a room after that – pulled you aside into a private bathroom and fucked you against the sink while making you stare at yourself in the mirror. Whispering in a deep voice about how the color of your hickies matched his plum-colored lipstick.

A few weeks later, he came home in the middle of the night after being away on a mission with Diamante and Trebol for nearly a week. Thunder boomed outside the window and his feathery black coat left behind a trail of rainwater as he stumbled into your shared room. His tall frame visibly shook with anger, his dark sunglasses barely covered the fury burning in his eyes. You got out of bed to greet him and asked how the operation went, but he just pulled you into a very wet hug and mumbled, “I don’t want to think about it ever again.” 

You blinked slowly and whispered, “I can help you forget.”

The blonde threw his half-burned cigarette to the floor then smashed his lips against yours. He didn’t bother taking the time to build up to a heated kiss. Immediately biting your lower lip raw before pushing his long tongue inside your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, easily submitting and letting him take whatever he wanted from you. The smell of smoke caught both of your attention. Corazon instinctively stomped out the cigarette ashes smoldering on the throw rug without tearing away from the kiss for even a moment. 

“Let me use you.” He looked as desperate as he sounded. “Just for tonight, can you be my little doll? I’ll make it up to you later, I promise, I’ll be so good to you.” Heat shot straight to your core and you nodded fervently, clutching onto his drenched clothes like your life depended on it.

Which is how you ended up with his lengthy cock down your throat, your bare ass in the air and body wedged between his sprawled-out legs. Calloused fingers tangled in your hair to firmly guide you up and down. Graciously giving you time to relax by letting you swirl your tongue around the swollen tip, though he never pulled you entirely off his dick. He looked so pretty like this – damp hair clinging to his forehead, pale cheeks turned pretty pink, subtly squirming on the mattress, pupils fully blown out with lust. 

Corazon suddenly thrust upwards to hear you gag, several inches of his cock forcing their way into your tight throat. Tiny teardrops reflexively lined your eyes as your gag reflex kicked in. You expected the blonde to panic and immediately stop – even though it was just your body’s natural reaction and you were enjoying every second. But instead, he licked his lips like he wanted to devour you. 

There were those Doflamingo genes.

But unlike his selfish brother, Corazon asked if you were comfortable with everything happening for the second time that night. You gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, obviously unable to verbally confirm with his dick stretching your mouth to its limit. His cock drooled salty precum onto your tongue as thick globs of your drool dripped down to his balls. 

You used both hands to stroke the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth – the huge man had a huge dick to match. Corazon swatted them away, held your wrists in one giant hand then pushed down hard until every inch of him was deep in your throat, messy blonde pubes tickling your nose. He was glad he set up a sound barrier, otherwise the entire Family would’ve heard the debauched moan that spilled from his lips.

After a few moments of admiring you and the prominent bulge in your throat, your boyfriend released you just before it became too much. “Good girl,” Corazon panted with a dazed smile. “Such a good girl, taking it all like you’re supposed to.”

He gave up trying to hold back after that, bucking his hips against your face and rambling about how pretty and perfect you looked like this. He pressed your head all the way down again just before he hit his peak, shooting a large load of cum directly into your stomach. When he saw your ruined state, a dark pit formed in his stomach. Tears stained your cheeks and spit dripped down your chin as you gasped for air, and he was turned on by it. 

Corazon quickly pulled you close to press soft kisses against your cheek and make sure you were okay. Nothing you said seemed to convince him, so you brought his hand between your thighs. When he swiped a finger through your folds, his eyes widened at how wet you were. He admired the way your sticky juices webbed between his digits, then immediately began toying with your cunt.

“I would’ve stopped you if you didn’t like it,” you grinned, shamelessly rutting against the palm of his hand. “Ruin me with your cock more. I’ll be a good toy for you.”

Corazon gulped, stomach fluttering with sinful excitement. “O-Okay, if… if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Both of you knew he wanted it more than anything.

[can-i-see-your-passport-please]

Okay so here's everything I know about TF2. Please no one elaborate on anything I know about, because I think it's so much funnier if I have no context to anything. I have absorbed all of this through Tumblr osmosis

Emesis Blue is an excellent film

Soldier apparently was never an actual soldier, he just loves America and really wanted to kill Nazis (the second one i respect greatly)

Medic would probably give you a lobotomy for fun (i don't think this guy's even a doctor)

Two really old guys are fighting bloody wars over gravel I think and their father is named Grey Mann which was most definitely meant to make Gman enjoyers lose it but to be fair his name could also be Gary Man.

What am I on

Heavy and Medic are apparently gay but idk if this is a fandom seeing two men next to each other and going "gay" thing or a "all but confirmed gay" thing but TVTropes referred to them as "Heterosexual Life Partners" which is very funny

emesis blue is so fucking good oh my godddddd the respawn machine is horrifying just from the concept it turned scout into soup

Scout is half French and loves his mother (who is not french) and does not love his father (spy i think)

Medic presumably died went to hell and told the devil "oh I'm like a cat I have nine souls actually. So I should get to go back to being alive" and it fucking worked??????

THE FUCKING SCENE IN?? IN EMESIS BLUE??? WHERE. WHERE SOLDIER TELLS MEDIC "YOU'RE GONNA MAKE IT OUT" AND MEDIC SAYS "i KNOW" BEFORE HE JUST FUCKING DIES AND HE'S THE PROTAGONIST SO YOU'D EXPECT HIM TO LIVE RIGHT??? AND THEN HE JUST DIES AND DOESN'T APPEAR AGAIN FOR SO SO LONG

Pyro is an any pronouns warrior and it commits great atrocities while also having so much sillyness in his heart. I love her

I think Engineer blowed up his arm. I think

Spy is a cunt and also French. I do not think this I know this. I look at him and I sense his cuntery. It radiates off him. I can feel it.

SOMETHING ABOUT THE LETTER M BEING BRANDED ONTO MEDIC'S FACE BEING A REFERENCE TO THE MOVIE SCOUT WAS WATCHING WHERE THE LETTER M IS USED TO MARK A MURDERER. HE'S LITERALLY MARKED AS A MURDERER BY PYRO. SOMETHING ABOUT THE SCENE WITH DEMOMAN AND DELL'S BAR BEING A REFERENCE TO A SCENE IN THE SHINING WHERE THE MAIN CHARACTER IS LITERALLY TALKING TO A GHOST. SOMETHING ABOUT SCOUT'S MOTHER'S HEAD BEING HELD AROUND A CORNER AND DROPPED PARALLELING PYRO'S HEAD BEING HELD AROUND A CORNER AND DROPPED. SOMETHING ABOUT SCOUT'S "IF THEY EVER HIT YOU WITH SOMETHING, YOU HIT BACK TWICE AS HARD" WITH MEDIC SHOOTING SPY TWICE IN THE HEAD AFTER BEING SHOT ONCE IN THE GAME OF RUSSIAN ROULETTE WHY IS EMESIS BLUE SO GOOD

TF2 is in an eternal war with Overwatch for some reason

I was doing a poll a few days ago and the tags psychic blasted me with the information of "by the way people pay like fifty dollars to see medic's tiddies in game." I have gotten varying answers between ninety dollars to three hundred fucking dollars but the constant remains that people will pay Valve comically high amounts of money to see Medic's boobs. What

Scout almost got Earth exploded because he died a virgin???? But then God was like "Okay go back down to earth I'm giving them one last chance to all have sex with you" I'm so confused what does any of this mean none of this makes any sense but it's hilarious

Scout might be legitimately named after Jerma and bears a frightening resemblance to him (though to be fair scout is every white boy in one)

You should watch Emesis Blue it's free on youtube

Demoman's eye is sentient even though he doesn't have it????

I can't decide who's my favorite the white boy the unethical scientist or the silly nonbiney war criminal

Conclusion: What the fuck is team fortress the second one about

[simpforrooster]

falling for a girl in purple & gold.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader

summary: your brother convinces you to join him at his tailgate. you meet a gorgeous blonde, who happens to root for the opposing football team.

t/w: lots of mention of alcohol. she/her pronouns. cursing. instalovey.

a/n: i’ve been dying to write something like this. this fic is def based off megan maroney’s ‘tennessee orange’ and conner smith’s ‘orange & white.’ i left readers school pretty ambiguous until the verrrrrry end. i’m an lsu girlie 💜💛 so i needed a little self-service.

Stepping into the tailgate tent, nostalgia fills your body. You are transported immediately back to your time in college. Cheering on your alma mater with your sorority sisters. Hooking up with those random frat guys who definitely showed you a good time. You’d have to remember to thank your brother for making you come.

“Sis!” Speak of the devil. Your brother envelops you into a huge bear hug, as if he didn’t see you one week prior at your family’s standing dinner date. You return his hug.

“I am so glad you made it!”

Your brother began introducing you to several of his friends who were taking up space in the tailgate tent. If he doesn’t know them from his fraternity days, then he knows them from the Navy.

“Two more guys are planning to show,” your brother says. “Guys from my time in Miramar.” You understand this to mean from his time at TOPGUN.

Lucky for you, you’ve been schooled in all things naval aviation thanks to the burly guy you call a brother. There was no way he was going to have a sister have zero knowledge about the Navy.

His words, not yours.

Leaving you to ponder, your brother begins mixing drinks. He hands you his “special” after a few minutes. His special being vodka, with a tiny splash of sprite and cranberry juice.

You take the drink from him, raising your brows.

“It’s the first tailgate of the year, sis. Go big or go home.”

You’d much rather go home than consume a ton of alcohol in this heat.

“Well if it ain’t Bozo!” you hear a deep voice call, with a sliiiiight country accent.

“Hey guys!” your brother calls with the enthusiasm of a kid who just unwrapped a PS5 from under the tree. “I’m glad y’all made it.”

You turn and take in the source of that accent, and almost spill your drink. Your brother never told you he was friends with Adonis.

His blonde hair fans out at his neck, beneath a nice Stetson, like he’s skipped a few haircuts. A pair of jeans hug his hips, and across his chest, the school colors of the enemy.

University of Texas. You were sure that burnt orange wouldn’t look good on anyone, but this man is proving that notion wrong. Your eyes lock with his, and he makes sure you see his eyes trail down your body.

When those green eyes meet yours, he drops his right eye in a slow wink.

“Bozo, I didn’t know you colluded with the enemy,” you say to your brother, nodding toward the handsome blonde.

“Ah, well,” Bozo starts, rubbing his hand behind his neck, “not everyone is perfect.”

“What do they call you?” you ask the blonde, not being able to take not knowing his name any longer.

“Hangman.” He fixes you with a gorgeous smirk, and tips that cowboy hat.

“Hangman?” you question, cocking an eye brow.

Those eyes peer into yours. “Yes ma’am.” The way he says those two words has you thinking of all the instances he could say them in.

“What do they call you when you’re not flying a plane?”

“Jake. And your name, pretty lady?”

“Y/n.” You stick a hand out toward him. Jake reaches forward, taking your hand lightly into yours. The two of you stand there, shaking hands for what feels like an eternity. Neither one of you wanting to break the contact.

“Fuck, Bozo. You never mentioned how beautiful your sister is,” Jake says to your brother, but never taking his eyes off you.

“Because you’re a fucking playboy, Bagman,” he says.

“Funny,” Jake comments.

And you’d gladly let him.

“A playboy, huh?” You quip.

Jake shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe I just haven’t met the right lady yet.”

The way he peers into your eyes has you sipping your mixed drink in order to hold some of your sanity. This man has the potential to ruin you.

And you’d gladly welcome it.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him toward the beer pong table. “Be my partner.” You fix him with one of your award winning smiles.

“Anything for you, darlin’,” he drawls. Gah, that accent is gonna be the death of you. The two of you fall into a steady rhythm, beating your brother and another aviator, Rooster, effortlessly.

Jake holds up his hand for a high five. When your hand meets his, his fingers lace between yours. He pulls you into him. You can’t be sure if the vodka is making you lightheaded, or the way your body feels pressed against his.

“I’m having the time of my life with you, sweet thing,” he says into your ear. You giggle into his chest. You actually giggle. You’ve never giggled in your life.

“What would you say if I needed to kiss you?” Jake asks against your temple. Spying your brother working the makeshift bar, you grab Jake’s hand. You lead Jake down an alley situated between two class buildings.

“I’d say, kiss me, Hangman,” you say, grabbing his ugly, orange jersey to pull him toward you. One of his hands braces his weight against the wall, just outside your shoulder. He has you completely caged in, that strong body hovering over yours. Jake reaches up to pull his hat from his head. He casually holds the hat up, blocking anyone from seeing the two of you.

Between Jake’s kisses and your brother’s mixed drink, you’re feeling all kinds of good. Not wanting any of it to stop, you grip his jersey tighter, pulling him as close as you can get him.

A low groan escapes his mouth, and the fact that he’s seemingly affected by you the same way you are by him has you reeling.

“A gentleman would at least take you out first before kissing you like this,” he murmurs.

“Oh yeah?” you question, not really letting his words soak in.

“Mhmm. Too bad I am not feeling too gentlemanly, right now.” Jake deepens the kiss, and your hands leave his jersey and thread through his hair.

“Good,” you breathe.

Your watch buzzes, pulling you from Jake’s tantalizing kisses. Taking a peek, your brother’s name appears across it.

Where the fuck are you? We have to go into the stadium.

Jake pulls his phone from his back pocket. “Bozo,” he murmurs.

“Where are your seats?” You ask, still breathless from his kissing.

“Next to you,” he says, placing once more kiss to your lips. Pulling you from the wall, he plops his hat onto your head.

“Fuck, my dads going to be so pissed I’m falling for a girl in purple & gold,” Jake says shaking his head. “Lead the way, darlin’.”

masterlist.

[antifainternational]

Since youre antifascist, how about you give us a definition of fascism? What exactly makes someone a fascist? (and in case you use terms such as left-wing or right-wing be sure to define them too)

Guess it's been a while since a clever Anon challenged us to define fascism, huh? Right, let's get into it: Via the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum:

Yale professor Jason Stanley:

“Fascism is a creation of race hatred and its politically organized expression.” - Willhelm Reich, The Mass Psychology of Fascism (1933).

“Fascism is capitalism plus murder.” - Upton Sinclair

“Repression by brute force is always a confession of the inability to make use of the better weapons of the intellect — better because they alone give promise of final success. This is the fundamental error from which Fascism suffers and which will ultimately cause its downfall…that its foreign policy, based as it is on the avowed principle of force in international relations, cannot fail to give rise to an endless series of wars that must destroy all of modern civilization requires no further discussion. To maintain and further raise our present level of economic development, peace among nations must be assured. But they cannot live together in peace if the basic tenet of the ideology by which they are governed is the belief that one’s own nation can secure its place in the community of nations by force alone. ” - Ludwig von Mises,  Liberalism: A Socio-Economic Exposition (1927).

“Spent most of the day reading fascisti leaflets. They certainly have turned the whole country into an army. From cradle to grave one is cast in the mould of fascismo and there can be no escape … It is certainly a socialist experiment in that it destroys individuality. It destroys liberty.” -  Harold Nicolson, The Harold Nicolson Diaries : 1919-1964 (2004).

“The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerated the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than the democratic state itself. That in its essence is fascism: ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or any controlling private power.” - Franklin D. Roosevelt

“A fascist is one whose lust for money or power is combined with such an intensity of intolerance toward those of other races, parties, classes, religions, cultures, regions or nations as to make him ruthless in his use of deceit or violence to attain his ends….If we define an American fascist as one who in case of conflict puts money and power ahead of human beings, then there are undoubtedly several million fascists in the United States.” - Henry A. Wallace

“Fascism is the cult of organised murder, invented by the arch-enemies of society. It tends to destroy civilization and revert man to his most barbarous state. Mussolini and Hitler might well be called the devils of an age, for they are playing hell with civilization.” - Marcus Garvey,  Authors take Sides on the Spanish War, 1937 Philosophy Tube's breakdown of the elements of fascism is very thorough and recommended if you're not the reading type. But do you read books? We hope so if you're looking to engage in political discussion about anything. Here are some books that tackle the definition of fascism, in whole or in part, that we would recommend to you (check/order from your local library!) Mark Bray's highly-accessible Antifa: The Anti-Fascist Handbook is a great starting point for this topic.

Columbia history professor Robert O. Paxton's excellent book The Anatomy of Fascism goes into this in great detail.

There's also Umberto Eco's The Eternal Fascist

or his "practical list for identifying fascists" as well as Hannah Arendt's seminal The Origins of Totalitarianism

We hope you weren't looking for a simple answer to the complex question of "what is fascism?" Anon, just as we hope you're up to taking our challenge of checking out all of the above so you're curiosity is satisfied and you're well-versed on the topic.

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Stolen Wife - 2

Synopsis – Tommy Shelby is married to Grace, but he becomes obsessed with Y/N, wife of Reuben Fitch, Tommy’s business partner in the U.S. who is unaware of his actual “business”

This blog supports Palestine. Zionists are not welcome here.

You were both nervous and excited, when the nice lady invited you and Rueben, you could sense his hesitation, and you were ready to make an excuse to get out of it but when her son tugged on Rueben’s slacks and asked Rueben to come see and meet his friends, you could sense Rueben’s resolve melting a little. You smiled, seeing your big soft teddy bear of a husband accepting the invitation of little Charlie Shelby.

Rueben looked at you with questioning eyes, you smiled and nodded. Rueben promised that cute little boy that he would definitely come to meet him and his friends at the ball.

Your husband was an introvert and so were you, but he had the courage to ask you out after two months of fleeting glances in the local coffee shop you both frequented. You were pretty sure Rueben timed his breaks to come to see you during those two months just like you used to wait for him for a chance to see charming and handsome devil you now proudly called your husband. Destiny is weird but for you, Rueben was your destiny, and you were his…

His club business had brought him to the U.K., Birmingham specifically, but you had cousins in London, so you decided to tag along with your husband and visit them and then join your husband in Birmingham. It was a nice change of pace; both of your professional lives were hectic and so this mini vacation of sorts came at the right time.   

Your husband is ex-Navy, and he does not trust many people around him or even his business anyone but his squad, and they even adopted you into their little family, something you are eternally grateful for. You asked your husband if his squad could join both of you after a weekend together in Birmingham and your husband agreed with no qualms, little did you know, half of his squad was already planning on joining both of you on this elusive business trip. Rueben always has backup, he never wanted to be involved directly but Tommy Shelby insisted on joining him at his mansion, Arrow House, as his guest but Rueben refused, you can never trust anyone in this business especially the new partners.

Half of Rueben’s squad had already landed in the U.K., prior to his visit to the King of Birmingham, and the other half was back at home. Rueben made sure to book the suite under a fake name, nothing that could be traced back to him or you…

Rueben picked you up from the train station, he loved your quirks, how you hated public spaces like clubs but loved trains, how you pretended to love coffee for him but in reality, you loved tea. How you always made sure to pack him lunch and always made him make dinner for both of you. Rueben never thought he could have a normal life, but meeting you made him believe he at least had to give it a shot, he dragged his feet for two months only to later succumb to his crush, infatuation, his desire to see you daily whatever you can call it. You were his world and he was yours…Your relationship was something true, something solid, something filled with love and determination, something only few people ever find in their life and you were the lucky ones.

At the ball –

Your gracious husband bought you a cool purple gown because he wanted to make you feel like a queen, his queen…Who would’ve thought for once in your lifetime you and your husband would love dressing up? Both of you were giggling like teenagers and acting like royalty.

Just like you assumed the ball was extravagant, more extravagant than anything you had ever seen before. You looked at the wastage of money, these assholes can easily donate money, but they need these stupid ass-kissing events to donate to children in need…

You held on to your husband tightly, out of your element but still giddy about dressing up with your king bear. Just like you, your husband did not leave you alone even while mingling with the people he knew…

“Good evening, Mr. Fitch, I did not expect to see you here…” Tommy commented in his Brummie accent as he joined your group of people, and they left both of you alone with this new person.

“Hello, Mr. Shelby…” Rueben greeted, and you could sense Rueben’s unease.

“I was convinced to join your charity ball by a very insistent Charlie Shelby, whom I couldn’t disappoint.” Rueben replied, you may have missed the implication, but Tommy didn’t, just like Charlie, you were not involved.

“And you must be Mrs. Fitch” Tommy turned towards you, his eyes consuming you.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” you say meekly as you extend your right hand to shake Tommy’s, but Tommy Shelby had something else in his mind, he brings your hand close to his eager lips, kissing the back of your hand much to your shock. You look at your husband clearly annoyed just like you. You feel a chill running down your spine. You take back your hand quickly, trying to escape this man. You lean on your husband to send him a clear signal and your loving husband grabs you by the waist and tugs you towards him, in his embrace… Rueben kisses the top your head to calm you down meanwhile Tommy Shelby watches the interaction enviously. Rueben is fuming with anger, but he is smart, he knows Tommy has his eye on you, something Rueben had been trying to avoid from the start. There is a tense atmosphere around the three of you, thankfully Grace joins in unaware of the charged scene and asks Tommy to mingle with other guests, Thomas Shelby leaves reluctantly with his wife while you plead with your husband to take you back to your hotel,  not wanting to endure the steely blue-stare of the devil.

[lowkeyrobin]

James Hook x gn!Bill Cipher!reader :D

I don't know if you understand the character I'm referring to, but it would be a reader with the powers of Bill Cipher and the same sadistic and carefree attitude that caught Hook's attention

xoxo ᰔᩚ

okay I can definitely try, but I can't promise this is good. I haven't watched gravity falls since like elementary school and I wasn't even that much of a fan so I had to use a lot of Google, so sorry if this is ooc ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also I saw that he has immortality so I wanted to play on that a bit bc music influenced me to do it lol ; also this essentially has no plot and is just some dumb rambling

JAMES HOOK ; cipher

summary ; a post-bridget going evil apocalypse au thing where you're super op, somehow died, and are now sifting up a plan with hook

warnings ; language, death, blood, kinda gore (?), stitching together body parts, reader is kind of a sociopath

disclaimers ; set post-bridget turning into QOH, aka the timeline where red and chloe didn't go back (completely just a oneshot this isn't what I think entirely happened)

word count ; 1.1k

masterlist

You had died at the hands of Bridget, now the Queen of Hearts, a tyrant.

She took control of Wonderland, and nearly all of what what would eventually become Auradon.

Bridget's happy-go-lucky personality and princess pink aesthetic had mutated. She'd turned only into the Queen of Hearts, a woman barely even out of her teenage years, angry and cruel, her signature pink becoming red. Everything red. No more happiness or joy. She wouldn't be the laughing stock now.

She beheaded you just as quickly as she'd gotten her hands on you. Her year-long reign above Wonderland commanding her Queen.

Your friends had gone into hiding, now realizing what they'd created. A tyrant, a murderous monster.

But, she'd forgotten that you were immortal, among many things.

Yes, you were essentially dead for days, your friends having been carrying around your body, waiting and waiting for you to snap back to reality. Maleficent had stitched your head back to your body, knowing your regeneration took a hell of a long time.

Immortality was like Klaus Hargreeves, something you hadn't mastered. You had to walk the terrains of whatever middle world existed between Heaven and Hell, the Devil and God themselves rejecting you for all eternity.

Outside Merlin's Academy rained soldiers from maroon clouds.

They lay dead flowers for the torn apart, you, at your feet, knowing one of these days you'd wake up. One of them you would. They'd just have to hope. You could end this.

Maleficent stands before you, spellbook in hand. Hook, Morgie, Uliana and Hades stand behind her, watching closely.

"Let it rain until it floods, let the sun breathe life once more, reborn. Dead flowers for the torn apart, laid at the grave to heal a broken heart"

The group stands silent, waiting for anything to happen. Then, the stitches melt into your skin, fusing your body together. You gasp, awakening suddenly, choking up blood and air. James rushes to your aid, hand on your shoulder, trying to help you breathe.

Maleficent shuts her book, stuffing it in her bag.

As you regain your voice, thankfully rather quickly, you look up at your friends.

"How long was I dead?"

Hades looks across the other's faces before answering. "Over a month."

Your jaw slacks, looking to the others for confirmation, which you receive. You'd never been dead that long. But then again, you'd never been beheaded. It'd only felt like an hour or two for your soul.

"You know who did this to you, right?" Uliana asks you.

You nod.

"Together, we can force her back down into Wonderland. We can not let her take over everything."

"Give me a few days. That sounded cringe as fuck" You groan, cracking your bones. "Plus, the magic doesn't work if I'm still practically dead"

"I've got frozen waffles-"

"Get a toaster. And a couple more boxes of those"

"On it!"

"Couldn't you just rewrite the laws of the universe or something?"

You sigh, "It doesn't work like that. If I do that, it'll screw us all over, not just Bridget. If you want me to laser her head off or something, I can, but I'm not gonna get myself killed again or any of you for that matter."

James softly smiles beside you, his eyes locked to the ground. "You can shapeshift, right?"

You nod. "Must I go over everything I can do? I'm not a master at anything, but..."

James nods.

"Uhm..." You count on your fingers as you list your abilities. "Regeneration, takes a long time when it's major. Reality warping, telekinesis, strength, dream manipulation, durability, immortality, time manipulation, range, speed, duplication, invisibility, intelligence, laser eyes, omnipresence, shapeshifting, soul removal, and stamina."

Your friends share awkward stares, slowly looking back at you.

"Look," You continue. "I doubt I'm the first person she wants to see. I tortured her the most out of all of us, I practically killed her over and over again for enjoyment, which is kind of sick, but it's funny"

Hades blinks. "Not very funny now that she's trying to take over the world"

Maleficent slaps his arm, hushing him.

"Anyways," you continue. "This is my battle. I'm not letting you guys die, nor am I sitting back to watch it happen. This is between me and her. I will cut her head off over and over until the end of time if I have to."

James shares a look with you, quickly placing himself on board with whatever your plan would be. Uliana, Morgie, Maleficent, and Hades decide to listen to you, not wanting to die. They retreat to their hideout in the academy, wishing you luck.

You turn back to look at James, silently questioning why he was still here.

"Do you have a plan?" He asks.

You shrug. "Go with the flow, I guess"

He nods slowly. "Where are we going?"

"Closer to Wonderland, I guess. I'd expect her to be locked up in her ugly castle"

"Wait, couldn't you reverse time-"

"I'd reverse it back to the day you were born and kill you before you got to exist if I tried."

Over the past few days, Hook had one hundred percent grown more infatuated with you. He already had been before, hypnotized by your power and personality. He wished he could have you.

Realistically, it would never happen. You were trillions of years old, stuck inside a teenage body.

You sit beside a fire, warming your hands, the pirate at your side.

"Why did you stay with me?" You ask out of the blue. "You could die"

He shrugs. "I'd willingly die by your side if it meant I'd be helping you. I'd do anything for you"

You furrow your eyebrows. "You sound like your brain became mush under a love spell"

He chuckles. "No. I'm infatuated with you. Really. Might as well know before I probably die"

"Huh?"

"You're actually so smart, and powerful, and sadistic, but it's so likable. Something draws me to you, more than any treasure could. Like, I genuinely see the stars in your eyes like they're every memory you've ever had. You're literally a God and I'm just some pirate"

"You're not just some pirate, you're the captain of the seas. That's a hard accomplishment" You reply. "Give yourself some credit"

He sighs. "I need you. I need you to not die to take Bridget down. So don't. She doesn't even have any serious magic, she has strength and no morality, which... you do too, but my point is, don't let her properly kill you again. Because if this ever ends, I want to spend every moment with you until I die"

You blink, slightly surprised at his ramblings.

"I couldn't live a few decades with you to live trillions more without you, James." You whisper, gaze locked onto the flame in front of you.

"That's fine," he replies.

You look to him, knowing he wasn't finished talking. He always had another word to say.

"Just please don't leave me. If you die again, I can't save you this time."

[murfpersonalblog]

Exactly. I've said since S1 that Loustat got Vegas Married; they didn't REALLY "know" each other. Jfc, Les really was illiterate, cuz he definitely wasn't reading Lou's mind well enough to understand who he was deep down AT ALL. 🙄🤦

Cuz Lou's NOT some "disreputable, cold, violent" thug like Les assumed & Santiago disparaged. He IS kind, soft, nurturing; and he cares about "human souls;" not seeing them as "the Meat" like Les, or "Kill Juice" like Claudia, or "cattle" like Armand. And poor Louis didn't have a frikkin clue what he was getting into with sadistic Lestat. They'd BOTH been putting on an act.

Loustat are soulmates, STFU. 😭

"One-sided." 👀

Armand is very No Future coded, wow. Very apocalyptic & fatalistic--hence his actions following Memnoch the Devil.

I said it way back in S1: Armand "loves" people like OBJECTS.

He does the exact same thing with Daniel, which is why I've never understood the appeal of Devil's Minion. It's FUNNY, seeing Armand be such a gremlin, but it's not romantic IMO; esp. since Daniel had zero agency, drunk AF and out of his mind most of the time--esp. after he was Turned. The only people Armand was able to love unconditionally, as PEOPLE (even family), were Benji & Sybelle.

Granted, what Assad said about Armand selfishly only thinking about how Louis could enrich him is kinda unfair. ALL vampires are selfish. They're leeches literally feeding on people, sucking them dry to sustain themselves. (Why they're a perfect allegory for capitalism, pimps, slaveowners, aristocracy, etc.) As Makers, they're crabs in a bucket, pulling humans down into eternal damnation with them just cuz they don't wanna go through hell alone--regardless of how prettily they talk it up (*cough* Lestat *cough*)--it's still a Savage Garden. Armand had the right idea, not wanting to make his own fledgling:

Armand & Les actually have a lot more in common than they're given credit for (which is why Lou's fond of them--he's compatible with both of them: Les' fun & flamboyant side; and Armand's more muted & chill domestic side). They're Old World relics who BOTH rely on Louis as someone who can bring them into the 20th century. Toxic AF, they BOTH treat Louis like a vessel--Lestat more carnally, as someone he can dump all of his pleasure & love into, lovebombing Lou and expecting him to take it with open arms; and Armand more mentally, literally inserting his memories/personality into Louis and mindwiping him as he stays on suicide watch; becoming Lou's nursemaid/caretaker and treating him with kid gloves like Lou needs to be "coddled, hyped up, lied to."

So yeah, this was a really juicy article. I agree with Sam & Assad, but for different reasons.

[celabi]

! Chapter 79 manga spoilers and nsfw ahead !

art by @/Naz2251 on Twitter

HE’S SO WHIPPED !!

Thinking about, GUN DEVIL AKI being so pussy drunk for you :( he’s slobbering all over your cunt, shoving his tongue so deep inside you while he holds your legs apart and when they threaten to close from being overstimulated, he harshly bites down on your clit and hums into your folds— groaning that if you do it again, you won’t like the outcome. All while he’s rutting his hips against the end of the mattress like a bunny in heat, just trying and pleasure himself at the same time. His fingers are digging into your thighs so hard that they’ll definitely leave marks behind, clawing at your flesh and holding you down like your going to run away. (You’re trying to)

His tongue moves much more aggressively then it did before he was contracted with the gun devil, he doesn’t care about the way you cry and mewl about how much it hurts from being jaded, instead it makes him go harder and faster. He’s much more different then devil hunter Aki who would hold you so softly, caressing your love bite ridden thighs and maintaining eye contact while he lovingly lapped up your juices. It went from him saying “Always taste so good, sweetheart.” And “Pussy all wet and sloppy, just for me?” To “Shut the hell up and take it.” And “If you keep trying to crawl away, I’ll give you something to be scared about.”

—

Aki stares down at your shivering body with no expression, no words being spoken and he’s completely still— making it impossible to tell what he’s thinking about as his black hair and gun covers the top half of his face. Your wrists are bound together behind your head with his suit tie, the fabric is so tight that it digs into your skin and leaves a harsh red rash. Your clothes carelessly discarded on the floor, deeming you completely naked, cold and vulnerable under him.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, his hand moves from your leg and— at an agonisingly slow pace, crawls up your thigh and towards your chest, gliding his long and slender fingers over every bump, bruise, love bite and hickey that he adorned on your body just minuets prior. “You look pretty like this…” he mutters, using his pointer and index finger to press down into a radiant red and purple contuse that had started to form right under your neck— drawing out a sharp hiss from you.

“Aww, does that hurt?” Though his words are cocky and teasing— his voice is void of any emotion as he stares down at you, the bulge of his cock in his pants just keeps getting harder and harder as he watches you squirm in discomfort, your pussy on full display for him and him alone, twitching every now and then as the air breezes past.

“M’ gonna keep you up all night and stuff you full with my cock until you’re crying and begging for me to stop.”

I don’t know how to end this🥴 in conclusion Gun devil aki is a massive slut and I wanna fuck.

[byooregard]

Since I spent like an hour on friday going through my copy of iwtv (1977 first Ballantine Books Edition) so here's where every episode title is said in the book.

possible spoilers for the show; definitely spoilers for the nearly 50 year old book.

S1E1 "In throes of increasing wonder" page 13, Louis only every directly says the words "increasing wonder" ("From then on I experienced only increasing wonder") about his first meeting with Lestat

S1E2 "...after the phantoms of your former self" page 81-82, said by Lestat ("You are in love with your mortal nature! You chase after the phantoms of your former self!") when they're having one of their many arguments about Louis' feelings about killing, right before they turn Claudia

S1E3 "Is my very nature that of a devil?" page 73, after Louis and Lestat are driven off of Louis' plantation & are rejected by a mortal woman Louis likes & thought would protect them

S1E4 "...the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding" page 98, said by Louis about Claudia (in narration) ("She was simply unlike Lestat and me to such an extent I couldn't comprehend her; for little child she was, but also fierce killer now capable of the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding)

S1E5 "a vile hunger for your hammering heart' page 116, Louis to Claudia, telling her the story of how she was turned ("I felt for you again, a vile unsupportable hunger for your hammering heart, this cheek, this skin.") While S2E7 gives us more context on how Claudia was turned, in the book it was very different-- Louis just straight up saw her and couldn't resist nearly killing her, & a few days later Lestat decides to turn her to save their marriage

S1E6 "Like angels put in Hell by God" page 148-- Louis says this to a priest in confessional after Lestat 'dies'. ("I am not mortal, father, but immortal and damned, like angels put in hell by God.")

S1E7 "The thing lay still" page 138, Louis' description of Lestat's dead (ish) body

S2E1 "What can the damned really say to the damned?" page 168, Louis contemplating what he might find in Eastern Europe as he and Claudia sail to Europe.

S2E2 "Do you know what it means to be loved by death?" page 224, said by Santiago in basically the exact same context, although the play is different.

S2E3 "No pain" page 225, said by Armand, who is onstage & is the one who kills the woman in the first performance we see at Theatre des Vampires

S2E4 "I want you more than anything in the world" page 284, said by Armand to Louis when they're on a little date in this abandoned tower Armand likes to hang out in, notably after Louis turns Madeline without approaching Armand about it; I believe he also repeats it twice same as the show

S2E5 "Don't be afraid. just start the tape" page 3; said by Louis to Daniel basically the same way it happens in the show.

S2E6 "Like the light by which God made the world before He made light" page 142, something Louis says while contemplating his existence directly after Lestat 'dies'. ("I had now lived in two centuries, seen the illusions of one utterly shattered by the other, been eternally young and eternally ancient, possessing no illusions, living moment to moment in a way that made me picture a silver clock ticking in a void: the painted face, the delicately carved hands looked upon by no one, looking out at no one, illuminated by a light which was not a light, like the light by which God made the world before he Had made light.") (jesus, anne. i thought i wrote horribly long sentences)

S2E7 "I could not prevent it" page 307, said by Armand, also repeated twice like he does in the show, although this is said as he's saving Louis rather than in the present day interview

S2E8 "And that's the end of it. There's nothing else" page 341; idk if this is the actual episode title, but it's what wikipedia is telling me and it makes sense enough. The last thing Louis tells to Daniel before ending the story

under the cut-- other lines i remember from the show that i underlined while reading the book; please add on if you have any more or correct anything i got wrong

(also this is all just my memory while reading the book, so it's messy and imperfect) (all of the book quotes should be correct, but forgive me if i cannot remember the lines from the show exactly and don't bother to search for them)

interview begins with "You weren't always a vampire, were you?" and then "There's a simple answer to that. I don't believe I want to give simple answers. I think I want to tell the real story." page 4

Daniel says "ah, that's the accent" and notes that there's a "slight sharpness to the vowels" also page 4

the monologue louis has about becoming a vampire "A dull roar at first and then a pounding like the pounding of a drum" to "i realized that drum was my heart" page 19

various things louis says about lestat in the first interview. i can't remember the exact lines in the episode but i think i remember "I was his complete superior and I had been sadly cheated in having him for a teacher" from page 31 and "he appeared frail and stupid to me, a man made of dried twigs with a thin, carping voice" on page 34

"The blood poured out of him, down his shirt front, down his coat. It poured as it might never pour from a mortal man, all the blood which he had filled from before the child and from the child..." page 137, describing Lestat dying

After they first attempt to kill Lestat, Louis also says the words "beginning the great adventure of our lives" page 142

page 216, when Armand and Louis meet, Armand does say "I will not harm you", and the note on his buisness card says "Bring the petit beauty with you. You are most welcome, Armand."

page 244, parts of the shpiel about concious & unconcious death from the first theatre performance

page 339, Armand says "She never loved you, you know. Not in the way that I loved you, and the way that you loved us both." after which he leaves Louis, something he hasn't managed to do in the show yet, though, to be fair, in the show after he said this Louis immediately ran into the sun

page 343, "This... after all I've told you... is what you ask for? " and "You don't know what human life is like! You've forgotten. You don't even understand the meaning of your own story...", though in the show they change this line a bit to make it sound more natural for a high 20 year old in San Francisco in 1973

[spidey-capricornz]

Chapter Five: Trick or Treat, Freak

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 2.2k

A/N: this chapter is definitely my favorite one that I've written for this series! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it! This made me realize I'm SO ready for Halloween! 🎃

➩ previous chapter || next chapter

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➩ series masterlist

"That's your costume?" Max's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and the typical candor that Lyra had come to expect. There was no malice there, just the blunt honesty. Taken aback but not entirely shocked by her bluntness, Lyra's gaze dropped to her last-minute costume. The leather clung to her like a second skin, the fishnets adding a layer of punk rock chic that she had thought was perfect for the night.

Yet, seeing herself through her sister's eyes, she couldn't help the grimace that tugged at her lips. "It's that bad?" Her voice was a soft echo of doubt amidst the certainty of her sister's judgment. Max simply shrugged. "Neil's going to freak when he sees that nose ring." There was a hint of amusement in her tone, the kind that suggested she was picturing the scene already.

Lyra reached up instinctively, her fingers grazing the small, gold hoop that adorned her right nostril. It was a bold choice, but it was also a harmless rebellion. "It's fake." She replied quickly, the defense a knee-jerk reaction to the implied criticism. The nose ring was just another part of the costume, a temporary addition to her look that could be removed with the same ease as the leather jacket that hung off her shoulders.

It was all part of the night's facade, a character she could put on and take off at will. But for a moment, under her sister's scrutinizing gaze, it felt almost real. "You and Billy could be twins." Although she knew the redhead meant it as a joke, Lyra's stomach twisted into knots thinking back to what had happened a few hours prior. Max's voice cut through her reverie, pragmatic and laced with concern.

"So I take it you're still going to that party?" Lyra nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. "You know I have to go, Max. Billy's a completely different person when he's high and wasted," She sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and protectiveness. It wasn't just a party for her; it was a mission to keep her brother safe from his excesses.

Max's expression softened, her teasing demeanor giving way to sisterly affection. "Just...be careful, okay?" She urged, reaching out to squeeze Lyra's hand. Lyra offered a small, determined smile. "Always am," She replied, though the promise felt as flimsy as the fake nose ring she wore. Tonight, she'd be the guardian angel dressed in devil's clothing, watching over her brother, hoping the night would end with nothing more than a hangover and a few good stories.

After trudging through the neighborhood for what felt like miles, their shoes scuffing against the cracked sidewalks lined with jack-o'-lanterns, Max turned to Lyra with a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine Trick-Or-Treating on my own if you want to go to the party. Knowing Billy he's already there." Lyra bit her lip, the streetlights casting long shadows as costumed children darted past them, their laughter a stark contrast to the unease knotting her insides.

She wasn't fond of the idea, the protective streak in her always on high alert during nights like these. Max could see the hesitation dancing in Lyra's eyes, the way she clutched her candy bag a little tighter. With a playful roll of her eyes and a dramatic sigh, Max launched into a full-on campaign. She promised she'd stick to well-lit streets, and, most importantly, be back before Niel got home.

After what seemed like an eternity of bargaining, Lyra's resolve began to crumble like the leaves beneath their feet. With a final, half-hearted grumble, she caved, extracting one last pinky promise from Max that she'd stay alert and stay safe. Lyra watched her sister disappear into the sea of costumes, the weight of worry settling in her chest. With a sigh that misted in the chilly night air, she reached into her jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against the crumpled edges of the orange flyer that had been burning a hole there all evening.

She unfolded it with trepidation, the bold letters announcing the party she dreaded. Unlike her brother, who seemed to thrive in the chaos of loud music and raucous laughter, Lyra found no joy in such gatherings. The very thought of the noise and the crowds made her skin crawl. But the image of Billy, with a drink in hand and his judgment clouded, forced a knot of anxiety to tighten in her throat. Their argument earlier that day replayed in her mind, the harsh words still echoing.

Despite their spat, her protective instincts wouldn't allow her to turn a blind eye. Especially not when she knew all too well the kind of trouble Billy could find—or cause—when alcohol loomed over him like a puppeteer. And if he didn't have her there to keep him in check, he'd either land himself in a situation they'd all regret, or worse, he'd come home to face their father's temper alone. The mere thought sent a wave of nausea through Lyra, her stomach plummeting. 

She knew what she had to do.

As the crowd mingled in the front yard of Tina's house, ranging from Cobra Kai to Madonna lookalikes—the rumble of a motorcycle engine cut through the chatter. Heads turned as Lyra made her grand entrance, the engine of her cherry-red motorcycle purring like a beast ready to pounce. She pulled off her helmet, releasing a cascade of dirty blonde waves that caught the moonlight just right, giving her an almost ethereal glow. As she kicked the stand down and swung her leg over the bike, the crowd's awe was palpable.

Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire, and for a moment, it felt as if time had slowed down just for her. Lyra's confidence was magnetic, her presence commanding the attention of everyone around her. She tossed her helmet under her arm and strutted towards the party, her smile a mix of daring and delight.

The partygoer's eyes followed her every move as she walked past. As Lyra made her way through the front door, the chaos of the party hit her like a tidal wave. The house was teeming with teenagers whose inhibitions had been left at the doorstep. Raucous laughter and shouts filled the air, punctuated by the occasional pop of a beer can opening. She sidestepped a couple who were far too engrossed in each other to notice her, their lips locked in a fervent embrace against the living room wall.

Everywhere she looked, there were scenes of revelry and abandon: groups of friends clustered together, some dancing with abandon to the thumping bass that vibrated through the floorboards, others engaged in animated conversation that was mostly yelling to be heard over the music. The floor was a graveyard of empty beer cans and red solo cups, discarded without a second thought by hands eager for the next drink.

Lyra's eyes darted from face to face, searching for the familiar contours of Billy's features, but he was nowhere to be seen within the crowded rooms. The knot of worry in her chest pulled tighter with each passing second. Then, a commotion from the backyard caught her attention the unmistakable sound of a ruckus that Billy was so adept at causing. Deciding to momentarily ignore it, she walked over toward the kitchen island hoping to find a non-alcoholic drink.

Instead, she found a punch bowl that looked a little too intimidating for her taste. "Care for a drink?" A tall sandy-blonde guy in a football jersey asked, catching her off guard. She quickly shook her head, hoping he would get the message and move along. Upon noticing the helmet tucked under her arm, the sandy-blonde boy made the connection. "Shit, so you're the chick that owns the Yamaha FZR600 parked outside." Lyra nodded, surprised that her arrival had already become a topic of conversation in such a short amount of time.

With a confident smile, he introduced himself as James, clearly trying to make a good impression. "And what's your name, gorgeous?" He asked, stepping closer. "We've met before." She responded nonchalantly waiting for the jock to recall their encounter in the hallway. She watched as he quickly made the connection once more. "I remember you," He smirked, his tone dripping with flirtation. "It was pretty hot seeing you all fired up." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his comment, not impressed by his choice of conversation.

However, James was completely oblivious to her lack of interest. "Over Byers, though?" He laughed, making Lyra clench her jaw in annoyance. "Shit, he's just as much of a freak as Munson," Lyra rolled her eyes. "Believe me, you don't want to be seen around them. They're not worth your time, gorgeous." She didn't have a chance to respond due to immediately spotting Billy stride across the room, a look of determination written all over his features. She saw her brother corner a brunette boy, their standoff radiating of testosterone.

"We've got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington." She overheard one of the guys cheer tauntingly. "Suck it, King Steve." Another teased making a triumphant smirk appear on Billy's face. She could only guess that he was the 'King Steve' whom Billy had dethroned. Suddenly, Billy's eyes locked with Lyra's from across the crowded room, and a protective glint sparked in his gaze as he noticed James lingering nearby. Giving Steve, one final glare, Billy made his way over to his sister, not even acknowledging James with a word. "Beat it," He grumbled, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Lyra couldn't help but stifle a laugh as she watched the jock grab a nearby beer and saunter off, clearly intimidated by Billy's presence. The silence between Billy and Lyra felt heavy, as if they were both searching for the right words to say. Finally, Billy broke the silence, his eyes falling on the helmet in Lyra's grasp. "You brought the motorcycle?" He questioned, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his voice. 

Lyra shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I wasn't gonna walk," She scoffed, reaching for a rogue water bottle on the counter. Billy couldn't help but comment on Lyra's attire, raising an eyebrow. "Dressed like that?" He deadpanned. Lyra's defenses immediately went up. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" She scoffed, her tone defensive. Billy let out a frustrated sigh, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "No surprise that dirtbag was hittin' on you. You're lucky I saw you in time," He mumbled, his concern evident. Lyra's frustration grew.

"I've told you several times before, I can take care of myself," She retorted which made Billy scoff. Fed up with the tension, Lyra couldn't help but snap, growing tired of his attitude that was giving her whiplash. "You know what, screw you. Go back to doing whatever the hell you were doing before I got here." She growled, her frustration boiling over. But before she could storm off, Billy reached out, his hand circling her wrist. "Lyra, wait," He called out, his voice filled with a mix of regret. "Can we just forget about all this? Just have a reckless night for once?" He motioned vaguely between the two of them.

Lyra looked at him, her expression softening. "This?" She questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I only came to this stupid party because I didn't want you to get in trouble with Dad. Even if we fought, some part of me wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid. So, forgive me for looking out for you." She huffed in frustration and anger. Lyra felt the sting of tears threatening to spill, a mix of emotions swirling within her. 

She didn't know whether the tears were for the sun-soaked memories of California. Or whether they were born from the unfamiliar strain between her and Billy. A strain that had been absent in their lives until they found themselves in the strange, unsettling world of Hawkins. "Sunshine-" Lyra's heart clenched at the nickname, a vestige of a simpler time. She shook her head, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through her despite the coldness she wanted to project.

"You're forgiven," Her voice was barely above a whisper, betraying the turmoil inside her. "I—I just need some air." She didn't linger to catch the look of relief that flickered across Billy's face, nor did she stay to see it quickly replaced by the familiar shadow of remorse. She pushed through the door, stepping out into the night where the chill wrapped around her like a much-needed embrace.

[yandereunsolved]

Fool Me Once - ,, you being James successor

cw(s): murder, drugging, obsessiveness, asphyxiation, thoughts/acts of sh

☾ James March who saw your aura in the color of gray and was immediately fascinated by your presence in his hotel. He's seen a handful of colors, even black— but this gray was something new. You are like a lost lamb that just needs his guidance. He only wishes to bring out your full potential. His hand aches to hold your own, just so he has a chance to feel your living pulse.

☾ Who watches you around the hotel. He purposely allows the ghosts to terrorize you to see how well you hold up. He won't allow them to kill you but you may leave with a few scars if you aren't skilled enough.

☾ Who invited you to a private dinner before you leave. He may or may not have definitely drugged so the food so you are a little loopy. What? He just needs to make sure that you listen to his message. He talks with you for hours and 'convinces' you to stay, or at least come back if you have other challenges responsibilities.

☾ Who demands that you eat every meal with him. He needs to make sure that you are eating correctly to ensure top performance. He really just wants to spend more time with you. He needs you to begin craving his attention and affection. It makes the entire process so much easier.

☾ Who guides you into picking out victims. He shows you the ropes, both figuratively and literally. Sometimes he tells you that he needs you to act with him. You'll both 'act' as if you are married to seduce couples and lost lambs into death. No one is allowed to touch you except him. If they try their death will come much quicker.

☾ Who asks you to pick out your favorite weapon. He goes into great detail about each one. He watches your face contort into furrowed contemplation. He feels himself growing fonder of your company. He can't wait to allow you a private torture chamber of your own, one day. Your willingness to please him only being another thing that intrigues him.

☾ Who asks the most intimate questions about you. He only wants to learn more about his protégé, and who he has to kill to make you his. Are you a virgin? How many exes do you have? What are your favorite positions? How much do you fancy killing people? What are your special interests? Are you attracted to men? What kind of men are you attracted to?

☾ Who nearly dies a second death when he sees your Devils Night costume. You dressed up as him! You even used make-up to recreate his neck slit. He wants to kill you right there. You would look so perfect to eternally mimic him.

☾ Who makes you watch his killings and take notes. It doesn't matter how he is killing them. He'll make you watch. If you close your eyes, he'll make you open them. He'll grab your chin and tilt it to look straight into your eyes. He'll make you drink the blood of his victims— bathe in it. It's like an aphrodisiac for him.

☾ Who wants you to own his hotel as the living owner. He doesn't want his hotel in danger of being destroyed or changed in a drastic way. He wants you owning his hotel as a symbolic gesture. A sign of his trust for you.

☾ Who chokes you and sloppily makes out with you after you kill your first person. He traps you against the wall and nearly makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He promises you more for each person you kill.

☾ Who makes you sleep in room sixty-four. You aren't allowed any other room. That is the only room you are allowed to stay in. So what if he is watching you sleep? So what if he is watching you during your 'alone' time? So what? You are his protégé after all."

☾ Who makes that maid of his— Miss Evers is it? make sure all of your linens are extra clean. You have nothing that is ever dirty. All of your messes are cleaned up, even before his own. Miss Evers is immensely, violently, extraordinarily jealous of you. She does her best to sabotage you behind her masters back. James has more than just a few words to her about that.

☾ Who insists you have a title of your own. He is The 10 Comandment killer. What is your trauma? How are you going to fuel it into your gruesome killings?

☾ Who fuels your worst thoughts. No, not the self depreciating ones or the ones that make you harm yourself... yet. Never bad to keep those thoughts in his back pocket for if you disobey him, or he needs to manipulate you. He fuels those thoughts that you immediately push away. He fuels your anger, your anguish, your pain towards people.

☾ Who will make you hurt yourself and watch if you ever try to leave him/disobey/displease him. He can do it himself, but your punishment will end a lot sooner if you just do it yourself... and sob so loud that he can't hear his own thoughts.

☾ Who gets you to shed all of your electronics when you are with him. He supposes you can have those horrid things, but not when he is around. His handsomely talented protégé cannot be distracted by some electronic drivel! He will not allow it. You cannot get off that phone? He'll make you. Break it. Kiss you until you can only focus on him.

☾ Who carves his initials into you so that people know you are his. He really, really wants to carve them into your neck... but he realizes that would probably, most definitely, kill you. He settles between two different places. You can either have him carve them into your inner arm or your thigh. Tattooing is boring. Scarring is fun.

☾ Who treats you both as his equal and below him simultaneously. He respects you but you are like a baby bird just learning to fly. His hummingbird. Just don't leave the nest too soon. You could fail flying and break your neck. That would be a pity.

☾ Who is adamant that you are very careful when it comes to killing. He cares in his own twisted way. He was caught, his failed successors were caught. He does not want you caught. He wants you to infinitely succeed. He wants you to have a moderately normal life.

☾ Who will hold you too hard or choke you for so long so that he leaves bruises. He tells you that he is teaching you how to resist these things. He would never fully poison you though. Drug, yes. Poison, no. Why no poison? He sees poison as very un-gentleman-like. Poison is reserved for your worst enemies, not your successor.

☾ Who will randomly trauma dump the worst things that happened to him. Those moments are fleeting and scarce. However, they do happen. That is his sign of an ultimate reverence to you. He bares the scars in his soul to you. If you press him on it or even joke about it his walls will be back up. He'll kill twice as many people as he usually does just to exterminate that pesky emotion of hurt from his heart.

☾ James Patrick March who will always be there when you fall. Who will slaughter those in the village so only he can give you warmth.

[kittenofdoomage]

A Bargain Struck

Summary: Inspired by this post on Tumblr and the lovely @angryschnauzer. You’ve struck a bargain with something unholy, and now he wants his due.

Pairing: demonic!Geralt x female!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: angst, demonic rituals, selling souls, everyone’s over the age of 18, this is a sort of medieval AU, use of horns for leverage during sex, transformations during sex, probably a lot of blasphemy?, it’s filth yet fluffy? Soft!Geralt is definitely a thing here. Let’s get weird. Uh, size kink, wing kink, demonic tongue fucking, definitely monsterfucking.

Ao3 Link

A/N: I was too excited to share this one with everyone. I know @deandoesthingstome wanted a tag (I think anyway, I didn't hallucinate that, right?) but haven't tagged anyone else to read. Let me know what you think, in gif form or otherwise!

She can’t help but feel joy when her sister, younger than her by only a few years, bursts through the door of their cottage, laughing as Dotty nips at the hem of her dress. It is a relatively new sight to behold, to see Emily filled with such life, when only weeks before she had been expected to die. “The moon, Y/N, did you see it?” she gasps, coming to a stop at the table, leaning on it with her hands to stare out of the window. “It’s so pretty!”

“I’ve seen,” Y/N replies, turning away from her sibling so she doesn’t see the worry in her eyes. It’s a blood moon, huge and pinkish red, filling the horizon in a stunningly clear sky. You have until midnight at the blood moon, he had said, the formless voice in the darkness that had granted her wish for her sister to live. She knew the price when she sought him out; it was clear in the ritual. Her sister’s life for her soul, bound to him for eternity.

A price she would gladly pay again.

“You’re quiet,” Emily murmurs, pulling out a chair as Dotty jumps around her. “What are you making?”

“Venison pie for supper. And I’m just concentrating.” The pastry around the edges of her creation are not playing ball, and they need to be perfect. This is her last meal with her family, and she intends to savor every moment of it. “Would you mind setting the table?”

She’s spent the last three weeks worrying if they will cope without her. He had given her assurances of a long happy life, but the what ifs and maybes still linger, nibbling at her thoughts until she was consumed with anxiety over it.

Emily hums as she gathers the dishes and cutlery for dinner, making Y/N smile as she finally gets the pastry to behave. The oven billows out a plume of hot air when she tugs the door open, and she shoves the pie in. “There we go,” she mutters, wiping the grease off of her hands onto her apron. “It should be ready when Mother gets home.”

“She’s still at the church?” her sister asks.

Chuckling, Y/N locates her cup of tea, happy to find it still warm enough to drink. “Well, your recovery was nothing short of miraculous,” she sighs. “Mother just thinks she needs to pay Him back.” She could have told her, of course, but their mother had always fallen on the more devout side of religious, and she didn’t think any good could come of confessing her deal with the devil, or something like him at the very least. The last thing she needed is to be locked up for being a witch - if she wasn’t there to pay the price, he could take back what he’d given, and she would not let that happen.

The cottage fills with the scent of the pie as it cooks. Y/N prepares the vegetables, listening to Emily chat about her day, wiping away an errant tear as she soaks in her sister’s excitement and zest for life. She wishes dearly that she could be there to see her grow and learn, maybe get married and have children, and hates even more that she won’t be. As the time to say goodbye creeps closer, she feels her nerves churning into an uncomfortable ball that sits in her belly, filling her with dread.

Their mother comes home just as they are plating up the meal, and the conversation revolves around her day at the church. She makes them say a prayer before supper, though Y/N keeps one eye open because she’s certain no prayer or God can save her from what she’s giving herself to. 

As her family continues to chatter obliviously, she tries to keep her focus on them, to enjoy the moments she has left with them. Emily is talking about a local boy she has a crush on, and Y/N feels her heart in her throat when her mother asks if she will be going to the market in the morning.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” she mumbles, cheeks rapidly warming. “How’s the pie?”

“Wonderful as always,” her mother replies. “I don’t know where you get your cooking skills from, certainly not me.” The joke is supposed to make her smile but Y/N only feels regret that she’s leaving them.

“You’re a good cook too,” Emily insists, grinning at her sister who manages a weak curve of her lips.

She’s trying so hard not to show her grief. She should be happy. Her sister will live a full and happy life. Y/N couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.

Dinner is over quickly, and once everything is cleared away, Y/N looks out of the window. The moon is a deeper shade of red now, hanging ominously over the trees in the distance. It’s bright enough that the whole valley is bathed in an eerie crimson, and she shudders as she looks towards the forest and the darkness waiting to greet her.

She still has time. Her sister is already in front of the fire, needlework in hand, humming again like she is prone to do since her recovery. Their mother reads, glasses perched on the end of her nose to make her look far older than she is, and Y/N smiles as she sits between them, letting the warmth of the firelight wash over her.

“You should take the rest of those apples to the market tomorrow,” Mother says quietly, and she nods, even though she knows she’ll never go to market again. The apples will probably rot in the basket. 

The night draws on. Mother retires first, kissing her firstborn on the top of the head as she passes, before taking Emily’s hand and looking at her fondly. Y/N watches her go with a heavy ache in her heart, wishing she could say goodbye, and not just leave them without resolution.

“You’re still being quiet,” Emily observes, putting her needlework away. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a second where she’s not sure what to say. She can see herself spilling the truth, dragging a promise from her little sister that she would live her life, fall in love, do all the things Y/N would never get to do. But she can’t say it because then Emily would know, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her sister carrying the weight of that guilt forever.

Sitting up, she smiles, shaking her head. “I’m just tired,” she says, getting up to take over the seat their mother had vacated.

Emily watches her for a moment longer, obviously deciding whether to prod at the subject. When she makes her choice, she sighs, rising from the chair. “Well, I’m tired too, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Y/N.” She turns, then pauses before crossing the room to lean down and press a kiss to her sister’s temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N whispers, tears in her eyes. If the younger woman notices, she doesn’t say anything, quickly retreating and leaving her sibling alone. 

She waits a while, watching the fire die out until there are only a few embers remaining. Once the red glow fades, she gets to her feet, making her way to her mother’s room first, and she finds her in a deep slumber, one arm slung over the edge of her bed. With a smile, Y/N pulls the door shut, moving to the next, and Emily is asleep too. She lingers for a second, wishing once more that she could say goodbye, but time is running thin, so she closes the door and moves on.

It didn’t seem worth the effort to take anything with her, and it’s easier to move silently with just her cloak. She fastens it at her throat and makes her way out of the cottage, careful to lock the door behind her, slipping the key into her pocket through habit - it’s unlikely she’ll need it again. Pulling her hood up, she walks away from the village and towards the forest, keeping her footsteps light and quick. Her cloak catches on the undergrowth as it gets thicker, and soon she’s picking her way along the narrow path between the trees, feeling more anxious as the darkness crowds her. Further along, the trees are so dense that the moonlight cannot penetrate their leaves and she has to slow to avoid tripping on unseen hazards.

Her destination isn’t all that far. The ground grows steeper, and she has to be more careful as she searches for the ruins in the dark. It helps that she has walked this path before, when she made her bargain, and she knows she’s there when she finds the first stone, stuck upright in the ground with strange symbols she traces with her fingers.

The ruins are empty and dark. Huge stones mark the circle, with some lying flat in the middle, almost like an altar. She doesn’t know what they once were but she can feel the electricity in the air, taste it like iron on her tongue.

“Hello?” she calls in a shaky uncertain voice. It must be nearly midnight; if she looks up, she can see the moon high above the trees. The wind rushes around her, and she shivers, tugging her cloak closed. “Are you here?”

Everything falls silent. A twig snaps, and she spins, peering into the dark thicket of trees between two of the largest stones. She’s about to call again as two golden eyes suddenly become visible, and instinct makes her pull back.

“Hello?” she whispers this time. For some strange reason, she doesn’t feel afraid, just apprehensive and uncertain in the face of something so unholy.

“You are ready to finish our bargain.”

She casts her gaze back the way she came, sorrow heavy in her heart. “I am.”

“The price was agreed,” he murmurs, golden eyes shining in the darkness surrounding him. “Yet I see tears in your eyes. Do you wish to take back what was given?”

Horror fills her, the image of her sister dying slowly still imprinted in her mind. She doesn’t want that. “I’m never going to see my family again,” she replies softly, wiping at her eyes. “Are you so unfeeling that you cannot understand grief?”

He chuckles at that, and she can hear him shifting around. “I understand perfectly.” Squinting isn’t giving her a clearer view of him, though her eyes are still adjusting to the lack of light. “You’re not afraid.”

It’s a statement, made out of curiosity, and she lets her shoulders relax. “I don’t think so,” she whispers. She’s uncertain what faces her, but it’s difficult for anything to overcome the despair at leaving her family. “Can I see you?”

There’s a pause, more rustling, and he clears his throat. “Have you ever seen a demon before?”

“No,” she answers truthfully, even as her mind conjures images of disgusting beasts and eldritch creatures.

He harrumphs under his breath. Y/N watches, unsure what to expect, and then he steps forward, letting the darkness melt away. At first he seems huge, and she hears the rustle of wings, but as he comes closer, he seems to shrink into a more human shape. He’s still tall, broad, rippling with muscle underneath a black shirt that clings to his skin, and the only things that indicate his otherworldliness are his golden eyes, his long white hair, and the two thick black horns curving out from the sides of his head. She sucks in a breath at the sight of him, and he stares at her with a hungry look in his eyes.

“Are you frightened now?” he asks.

There is fear but it’s inspired by a new feeling inside her, something raw and primal, something that’s telling her she belongs to this creature, and she’s not sure if it’s magic or him, or something else entirely. “No,” she says again, shaking her head this time.

His lips curl into a smile. “Curious,” he rumbles. “I knew there was a reason I answered the summons.”

The comment makes her frown. “Aren’t you compelled to?” He laughs, and it’s a sound that makes her insides quiver with need. There’s something strange about him that draws her in, and she takes a step closer to him, tilting her head. “Do you have a name?” she asks boldly.

He watches her in amusement, like he’s never encountered anyone like her before. “Geralt,” he concedes.

It feels more comfortable to have a name to use, though she’s no closer to understanding what is happening. If he didn’t have to respond to the ritual, why did he? The thought makes it out of her mouth before she can stop it, and the amusement doesn’t fade from his face.

“The ritual only binds the one whose blood is used,” he murmurs, closing the distance between them. “You are now bound to me, Y/N, for what I have given you. Do you understand what that means?”

Her mouth goes dry. “You take my soul,” she rasps, eyes watering again. “I have to die.”

There’s a second where he seems confused, and then his knuckles are brushing her cheek, wiping away the errant tear that escapes. “What gave you that idea?” She stares at him, puzzled by his words, and he’s suddenly right there, looming over her, one meaty paw cupping her face. Her heart is racing at his proximity, and she begins to understand exactly what he wants from her. “You’re mine now,” he repeats softly. “I will only ever protect you.”

“I-I don’t understand,” she breathes, lifting her hands to brace them against his chest, to stop him getting closer or just to touch him - she’s not certain which. He’s real and solid under her palms, and she’s surprised when she feels the dull thud of his heart in his chest.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” he hums, dropping his head just enough to nuzzle the tip of his nose against hers. “I was growing weary of solitude. Then I heard your plea…”

His lips brush hers, and she stuns herself by lifting her chin, allowing him to initiate the kiss. It’s not like she hasn’t been kissed before, she’s just never been kissed with such raw need, and before she can register it, he has her body pinned against his, held in place with a hand on her lower back. She can barely breathe when he breaks away to look down at her; his eyes are nearly black and it’s too hard to pull her gaze away.

“But you’re a demon,” she mumbles.

He answers in a gentle tone, almost amused by her dazed reaction. “I cannot help what I am.” His hand is around her hip now, keeping their bodies pressed together, and she can feel something hard digging into her belly. It takes a second for her to realize; her eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away.

“You want me to be your companion,” she says slowly, acutely aware of how large he is. “For me to - to -”

Geralt smiles, and it’s a hungry smile, exposing his sharp canines. “Yes,” he confirms, voice thick and syrupy. “I knew as soon as I heard your plea. You are lonely too.”

She wants to be indignant at that, to deny it, except she has always been lonely. Once she thought she had found someone who she had been prepared to give her whole heart to, only for him to shatter the dream and walk away. Since then, her only duty had been to her family, and though she loved them dearly, she had never tried to be anything but the perfect daughter and sister.

“You see?” Geralt draws her back to the present. “You ache for someone to love you. To care for you. It’s why you were so ready to sacrifice yourself for your sister.” His hand somehow covers the whole side of her head, which should be terrifying, but she’s leaning into it, finding comfort in the touch. “You’re mine, Y/N.”

She nods, almost in a daze. He pulls back, taking her hand to lead her to the altar-like stone in the middle of the ruins, and she follows without question. When he sits, he drags her between his thighs, and the angle is much friendlier to her neck when he kisses her again.

“I need to hear you say it,” he growls, unclasping her cloak to let it fall to the ground.

Her eyes lock on his. The golden in them is nearly entirely eaten by black, and a rush of warmth ends right at her core. “I’m yours,” she manages weakly, suddenly acutely aware of the pounding of her heart and the blood in her veins. She feels like she should resist simply because he’s a demon, but she doesn’t feel any danger from him at all.

He tugs her dress up, slicing through the fabric that gets in his way with sharpened claws that are gone by the time he finds her flesh. Heat floods her face when he rubs thick fingers against her sex, and she flings out a hand to brace herself against his shoulder, leaning to the side as he sinks a single digit inside her. It’s thicker than anything that’s ever been inside her before, making her squeak and cling to him, and a rumble of amusement echoes in his chest.

“I’m not a virgin,” she whispers, suddenly in fear of disappointing him.

“Neither am I,” he replies in a quiet laugh. She gasps as he works a second finger into her, and she begins to think that if his cock is bigger than this, he might not fit. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there’s a part of her that rallies against the idea of intimate relations with a demon, but she ignores it in favor of his touch, gasping as he thrusts his fingers inside her as deep as they can go.

She can hear how wet she’s getting, and he can too, grunting his appreciation when his fingers come out glistening. When he pushes them into her again, she whimpers, rocking her hips to meet his movement, focusing on the fire he’s igniting in her belly. She’s felt it before, just not this powerful, like she’s forgotten how to breathe, and before she can vocalize the pleasure, her pussy clenches and she’s dripping down his wrist. He moans, almost covering the squelch of his fingers as they keep sinking into her over and over, forcing her to ride out every wave of her orgasm until he’s satisfied she’s done.

He withdraws, allowing her to rest as he tears his shirt off, but her attention has moved to the bulge in his pants. Reaching out, she brushes her fingers against it, looking up sharply when he growls low in his throat and slides his hand to the fastening. His cock springs free the second it's able, and she swallows around the lump in her throat, still uncertain she can take him.

Her apprehension must have been plastered across her face. He catches her chin, forcing her to look at him, and she sees reassurance in his eyes. “It will feel good,” he says softly, taking hold her hand to guide it to his shaft. It’s warm to touch, solid under her fingertips, so she grasps him in her hand, tentatively stroking down then up, smiling when he moans. “That’s it,” he purrs, pressing his hand between her thighs again.

The intrusion of his fingers is familiar now her body has adjusted but he takes his time to open her up properly, bringing her to the cusp of climax after climax. By the time he is hauling her into his lap, she’s a panting mess, yet she still hesitates as he presses the wide tip of his shaft to her entrance, using his fingers to position himself. His golden gaze fixes on hers when he begins to drag her down, and for a moment, she’s convinced he’ll break her, then the first inch is in and she practically begs for the rest. He sinks up into her slowly, letting her pussy drench him to ease his path, and when he’s finally buried deep, she can’t breathe for the pressure in her belly. Her walls hug him tightly, cockhead snug against her cervix, and he keeps her right there, grinding inside while she can do nothing except accommodate him.

“How does it feel?” he asks in a gravelly voice that makes her feel like he’s holding something back.

“You’re -” She still can’t control her breathing, almost shivering through overstimulation. “You’re so big, I -”

“Hmmm.” He sounds amused, watching as she gasps and splutters, pressing her hands against his chest before sliding them to his shoulders. “Would you like me to move?”

She whimpers with a nod. “Yes,” is all she can manage, and he chuckles, putting his hands to her waist. The first slow pull away from him has her digging her nails into his shoulders, but her body is quickly acclimatizing and when he’s almost fully withdrawn, she only wants him back inside her. He gives her exactly what she wants, filling her again, and she cries out in ecstasy, drowning out his low possessive growl.

There’s an electricity in the air when he begins to fuck her, overriding her meager strength to manipulate her body until she’s almost out of her mind with pleasure. The intensity of it makes her feel like she might die if he stops, or if he doesn’t; either way, she’s craving more and more, and it seems he is more than willing to give it. She comes for him easily, easing his path into her slick channel even more, and she’s sobbing by the time she’s done, prompting him to slow just a little.

He growls as she leans back just a little, held in his grasp. “I want to see all of you,” he grunts.

A clawed finger tears down the front of her dress. The fabric falls either side, exposing her breasts, and Geralt doesn’t hesitate, curling his long tongue around one stiff peak as she moans decadently. She reaches up, letting her fingers slide over the horns either side of his head, tugging experimentally. It inspires a moan that vibrates out against her sensitive skin, so she does it again, using the slight leverage to lift off of his cock before sinking back down.

He doesn’t stop her when she does it again. His hands tighten around her waist, giving her assistance on each stroke, bringing her down hard until she’s stuffed with him again. “I want to see all of you too,” she whines, resting her hands at the base of his horns. “I want to see what you really look like.”

Releasing her breast, he meets her gaze, baring his teeth slightly as she keeps moving. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“You won’t,” she promises desperately.

His grip on her waist tightens, forcing her to slow. She gasps, watching the slow ripple as he relinquishes the control over his form, whimpering when he pulls her down hard on his cock as it grows with him, pushing her to her limit. Large black wings sprout from his back, his teeth become sharper, and his eyes glow; he’s breathtaking and terrifying, or he should be, but she feels no fear, only the need for him.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, holding her down on his cock with clawed hands.

“Yes,” she hisses, panting and wriggling to relieve the unbearable pressure in her belly. He grabs her hand, pressing it down against her gut, and her eyes go wide. “Oh -” She can feel him, right underneath her palm, throbbing inside her.

“Like you were made for me,” he snarls, rocking his hips again so she can feel the thick girth dragging against her walls. “You’re mine.”

He moves before she can react, finding herself naked and pinned underneath him on the stone altar. His wings expand then contract, surrounding them as he slides down her body, covering her aching cunt with his mouth. She yelps when she feels his tongue probing her entrance, thick and long, wriggling, and it’s a new sensation that curls her toes as he pushes the flexible organ inside her. It doesn’t fill her like his cock does but it seems to touch every hidden part of her, and she can’t catch her breath, panting hard as she reaches a new high on his tongue.

She’s shaking from head to toe, yet he doesn’t stop, groaning against her pussy, nuzzling against her clit. The additional point of stimulation makes her reach down, sliding her fingers around one horn, and he snarls, fucking his tongue into her with a little more vigor. Her back arches at the unexpected force, and she can feel her heart hammering hard in her chest. She screams and writhes, but he holds her in place until he’s satisfied, and she’s boneless, eyelids fluttering as she fights the urge to pass out.

Withdrawing slowly, he climbs up her body, lining up his monstrous cock once more, and she feels like she’s looking up at a god instead of a demon. Her thoughts are swept away in the next instant when he cants his hips forward, burying his cock to the root inside her aching channel again. She falls apart in seconds, crying out until he silences her with a heady kiss. 

Time is meaningless. Every thrust sends her spiraling, raking her nails over his biceps as he claims her body along with her soul. She can’t think between bursts of ecstasy except for one driving need to feel him come inside her.

He growls as his strokes become sloppy, harder, faster, and finally, he buries himself as deep as he can, punching a choked cry out of her lungs as he spills into her. It’s hot and thick, and she groans as he keeps her still, riding out his orgasm and grinding deep until he’s done.

Her head rolls from side to side as the pleasure resides, though she can still feel him buried inside her, keeping his seed deep in her womb. He doesn’t move yet, coaxing her into a soft kiss as he remains with his wings sheltering them from the cold air. She hiccups a sob against his mouth, letting her fingers tangle in his hair, and when they part, she gasps for breath.

“Do not fret,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her gently.

She doesn’t feel up to anything like fretting at that moment, even as she looks up at his demonic countenance. Her limbs feel like jelly, and she’s certain she could fall asleep in the warmth of his hold. “Will they be alright without me?” she asks, because she has to know, and she trusts him to give her the truth.

He nods, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Yes.”

It’s all she needs. Her eyes flutter shut as she curls into his chest, contentment washing through her as the demon holds her close, lifting her from the stone to carry her towards the darkness he had come from.

When dawn breaks, all that is left is her cloak and a few tattered rags.

Thanks for reading! Please, please let me know if you liked it 🤗

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: Biblically Accurate Angels

@wokewerewolfagainstcapitalism I am not re-blogging the original post because I don't want to subject my followers involuntarily to the whole thing

although for the exceptionally curious I will still link to the post so they know the context.

BUT, I was surprised (and delighted) to find that there's actually a number of games that kind of fall into this wheelhouse!

I’m considering fallen angels as biblically accurate angels for this request; and there are certainly angels on this list that aren’t really biblically accurate, although there are some fun vibes.

Demon: The Descent, by Onyx Path.

Angels are everywhere. They are under the everyday world, behind it, beyond it. They are sent by the God-Machine to enact its will through time and space, delivering messages, building infrastructure, protecting some people, killing others. You were one of those angels… But not anymore. Now you are one of the Unchained, a fallen angel who defected to the human race. Yours is a world of false identities and clockwork conspiracies, stolen faces and hidden works of the Machine. 

Demon: The Descent is set in a world where God is a machine, and Its goals are inscrutable and yet definitely not good for mankind. You have chosen to side with humans - and have therefore lost your angelic status, although you still maintain powers beyond human comprehension. If you’re looking for characters that can strike the fear of… well something into the hearts of those who see them, this is a game that you might want to check out - because your demonic forms in Demon: The Descent have the potential to be truly horrifying if you’re willing to look beyond the veil.

Also, if you want more “biblical” demons, Demon: The Fallen is the old-school parent of this game, about Christian angels being cursed and deciding to fight back.

Feathers, by Thursday Garreau.

Feathers is a game about fallen angels looking for meaning and comfort in our world, using Avery Alder's Belonging Outside Belonging system. It's diceless, GMless, intimate, and very, very queer, for 2-3 players, designed to be played in a single session.

Much of the setting of this game is left up to the table that you play with; did you land in a small town? Did you know each-other before you fell? What time of year is it? The characters have all experienced different forms of heartbreak, but each archetype is provided with tools to help you get the happy ending that you hope for. Because the game is inspired by Belonging outside Belonging, you also each play as an element of the the world or the story, such as the Vibrant Flock, The Imperfect Vessel, or Handmade Deities.

This game is very poetic and evocative, and it’s also currently part of the TTRPG’s for Palestine bundle that’s going on right now. I definitely think that you should check it out.

His Red Hand, by Carrie Imago.

HIS RED HAND is a 3-player tragedy about fallen angels, built on Jay Dragon's Nameless Engine. 

This game was designed for the Trans Fucking Rage Jam, a game jam for trans creators back in 2022. It's specifically for three players, so I think it's a good game for three friends who know each-other well.

In this game, you are each characters but also threats. Your characters are doomed; you decide exactly how they die. You will watch as the things that you love, the things that keep you safe, are ripped away from you. You will be asked to turn on the pieces of your very soul, so if you want a game that is all about sticking the knife in and twisting as hard as you can, this is the game for you.

Angels and Devils, by Sascha Pogacar.

It is the eternal struggle of angels and devils for souls. Everything is placed on one sheet to experience endless stories together with a few friends.

This is a competitive game, with half of the players being angels, and the other half being demons. It reminds me a little bit of the Screwtape Letters and a little bit of Good Omens; the demons tempt mortals using the 7 Mortal Sins, while the Angels rely on the 7 Cardinal Virtues. This is a short game; it requires a regular deck of playing cards and a few hours, and that’s about it!

Halos & Hellfire, by Jason Tocci.

THEY HAVE BEEN CALLED ANGELS & DEMONS, the Heavenly Host and the Fallen Legions, the holy and unholy armies secretly locked for eons in THE WAR over the fate of humanity. These days, though, they mostly just call themselves messengers. It draws less attention when complaining about work over beers.

Halos & Hellfire is a hack of Lasers & Feelings and inspired by In Nomine, fitting on two sides of a single letter-size page. It includes rules for creating celestial beings, handling divine interventions, buying advancements with superiors' favor, and performing ever-risky miracles (adapted from the magic rules from Sorcerers & Sellswords). 

I’m really enjoying some of the character aspects you can choose for your heavenly form in this one; some of your options include many-eyed, Formless, and Leonine. Sometimes I forget that biblically accurate angels can be furries too.

Anyways, this is another Lasers & Feelings hack, with a single number representing both your strengths and your weaknesses, with a setting that can be twisted or changed in order to fit the kind of story you want to tell. There’s a little more to play with in this game than a typical Lasers & Feelings hack, with special rules about miracles, doing battle, and other character options that you can choose to add in order to give you more tools to play around with, including a method for character advancement if you want to play this for more than one session.

Relics: A Game of Angels, by Tin Star Games.

Trapped on Earth. Surrounded by Enemies. Desperate for Answers.

God has gone and the Gates of Heaven have slammed shut, leaving angels and demons abandoned on the mortal world. Their powers, long trapped in physical objects, now begin to awaken and the cold war between the two sides erupts into a arms race to control all of creation. A desperate, brutal battle will be waged in the present on the secrets of the past. 

Relics: A Game of Angels is a roleplaying game in a world inspired by Wings of Desire, Dogma and The Prophecy. Players take the role of angels who have lived on earth for hundreds or thousands of years. The unique memory system allows you to build an ever-growing backstory as you play, making you the unreliable narrator of your own past. Plus the simple Tarot-card system makes gameplay simple and fast, with characters made in just minutes.

The angels in this game aren’t necessarily biblically accurate, but it does focus on the conflict between heaven and hell. The game uses a deck of tarot cards for resolutions, and your character backstories are written as you play. The setting is heavily urban fantasy, so I think if you like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or perhaps Dresden Files, you might like this game.

War in Heaven, by milo v3.

One page rpg where you play a constellation of angels that are trading stories among each other about the rebellion that is brewing in Heaven. Requires at least 3 six sided dice to play.

This game actually uses scriptural references to describe parts of your angels! Character creation includes determining your Eye, your Gate, and your Wings, each of which determines something about your character’s secret desires and hopes. The game takes place over a series of turns, where rumours about a rebellion grow, while your Angels talk to each-other about what they think of the conflict, and confront & comfort each-other over the upset that might result in Paradise Lost for them all.

Also…

If you want to be alien and unknowable, and possibly even strike fear in the hearts of those who lay their eyes upon you, even if you’re not really an angel, may I suggest: Star-Spawned, by @prokopetz?

[orenji-iro-no-sora]

Thoughts on TGCF Vol 2

Vol 1 | Vol 2| Vol 3| Vol 4| Vol 5| Vol 6| Vol 7| Vol 8

*Spoilers*

Firstly, the pace of the books has been just right. I could feel the tension rising gradually. After an almost light hearted investigation in the first book, this one definitely got more and more thrilling (and serious) but it didn't feel sudden at all.

Eming and good times in the Ghost City

I'd say one of my favourite parts of the second volume were the Hualian moments in the Ghost City. It was definitely the calm before the storm though. I could feel my heart racing when Hua Cheng appeared from the curtain. How did the author add so much tension when all they were doing was shaking a dice cup, I don't know!

Eming, the scimitar that could destroy heavenly officials, is childlike and sweet. I imagined it would be fierce because Jun Wu warned against it, but MXTX used it to show how different Hua Cheng is from what people think of him.

I theorised that maybe with Hua Cheng missing an eye, it probably belonged to the scimitar and Eming possessed his child spirit and could express emotions that Hua Cheng repressed. But that's just a theory and probably wrong considering that the spiritual instruments of MDZS all had a life and personality of their own so it's not possible for Eming to somehow have a part of Hua Cheng in it. Also in Arc 2, only one of his eyes was visible, so maybe he was blind from the start. I think this will be revealed later on.

Powerless Gods

With more insight into Ling Wen and her inability to get devotees despite being one of the hardest workers in the realm, and the Wind Master having to take up a female role, even the Gods are not spared from sexism, prejudices, and gender expectations. It's obvious considering their worshippers are humans who have been conditioned by society, and like Xie Lian says: "Who cared whether you were a god or a ghost? You were whatever people believed you to be."

At the end of the day, for Gods, worshippers carry the most power. While devotees fear the Heavens, they are the source of the official's "merits". Xie Lian was right to question the power dynamics between immortals and worshippers. Officials are helpless in how people perceive them (like Feng Xin lol), and they're powerless when it comes to mortal matters. They can't interfere and they can't influence.

And this truth, I believe, is one of the biggest sources of conflict for Xie Lian. He understands better than anyone that he's powerless (and yet powerful) which is why he fears disappointing others and doing the wrong thing (as he has already gone through it all in the past) and which is also why ascending for him, in my opinion, is a curse. He believed that by walking the path of the cultivator, he could become the saviour of his people. That his determination and goodwill could and would lead to eternal peace.

But in reality, there's no point to his ascension. The world carries its own fate and he can't change destiny. He's even more restricted in what he can do as he's no longer a mortal. While insults and harsh words can't stop him, as I believe Xie Lian has always been very confident in his virtue, I think they hurt just the same because he couldn't live up to his own convictions and they're a constant reminder of his shameful past.

Both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng aren't what they are rumoured to be. The kind of people they are, and how they have been perceived by others do not align. But that's pretty much the case for all characters. In reality too, people always see what they want to see.

However what's interesting is that Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have been imagined to the opposite extremes of the spectrum. To Lang Qianqiu, Xie Lian was a saint. (I'd admit that when he asked Qianqiu to not venerate him, I realised I had done the same.) To others, he was a failure and Hua Cheng was the devil. But both of them were more than that.

Xie Lian's frustration: the injustices despite kindness

In this sense, they both were their truest versions with each other. Which is why, when Xie Lian, finally, finally expressed his frustration and anger, it was to Hua Cheng.

Throughout vol 1, I was waiting for Xie Lian to express some irritation or anger or something that wasn't gentle acceptance. If he had fought Jun Wu after his ascension, he must have been pissed. And there's so much in his life that was unjust that there's no way he wouldn't be. Maybe 800 years is enough to get over it, I said to myself, but there must be days when it hits him. Every step he took, he took to save the common people but saving the people didn't coincide with doing the right thing.

For me, the most important part of the second book was when Xie Lian talked about the injustice of the Guilded Banquet. "He simply felt deeply wronged. He’d acted with such benevolence, but he didn’t receive equivalent kindness in return... I just don’t think it’s right for someone to have been kind but still meet a bad end. I don’t think it should have ended up this way."

Truer words have not been said!! I think one of the hardest aspects of doing the right thing, the kind thing, being morally and ethically inclined is that in this world, benevolence is rarely reciprocated. And I needed Xie Lian to say it. And he did. And I was glad that he admitted to it all.

Because despite knowing that kindness will not guarantee paradise, it may even lead to chaos, to him (and to me), it's still the right thing to do. That's why he wanted Qianqiu to continue being kind, even when the consequences were nonsense. That's why he'd take the blame and bear the responsibility.

Flowers and Butterflies, the cyclical nature of Hualian's fate

Finally, I really wanted to talk about Hualian and their intertwined fate. When Xie Lian saved Hua Cheng during the procession, he appeared like a white ethereal butterfly. And later when Hua Cheng rescues him, he uses his butterflies (deadly to others but gentle to xie lian) to break into Heaven. 'Hua' means flower is what Xie Lian saves at first and what becomes a symbol of his gentleness. And then later, Hua Cheng is the one who sought flowers and protected Xie Lian.

Also Hua Cheng is said to bring misfortune to all those around him and Xie Lian is the darling of the Heavenly Emperor. But he ends up believing that he's unlucky and causes harm to everyone near him and isolates himself while Hua Cheng always says that he's the luckiest.

In a way, their fates have been reversed. But also, they directly or indirectly brought fortune/misfortune in each other's life. Maybe it can be said that Xie Lian's ascension, which I think was his misfortune, was a result of Hua Cheng's star of solitude. Maybe Hua Cheng's power is Xie Lian's blessings. Or maybe everything has been fated and destined to happen exactly as it happened. Either way, I think it's neat.