#also I was listening to mother cain

[scaly-freaks]

it’s about to rain, the air is pregnant with it. the sky crackles violet with stunted whips of lightning and the streets are so empty it feels like i’m the only person alive trekking home with a packet of crisps i just had to walk half an hour for. and i realise the way this place looks right now, humid and liminal and washed in bruise-like purples, is the way i’ll remember it when i’ve left it behind. and when i do i’ll forget all the bad things that happened here. i’ll just remember my period was late and being happy with a packet of crisps as the thunder cracked its shell open upon my head and the rain broke free.

[electrozeistyking]

so has anyone talking about this yet, or... cuz it was in that latest news video on the amazing digital circus. and uh... i took a screenshot of it.

[urlocalspotifyenthusiast]

girl who is scared of mentions of blood puts ethel cain on shuffle: i think im going to pass out

[chevalierlagarce]

I'm know this sound hypocritical coming from me considering most of the stuff on my blog but I'm sure that both Ethel Cain and Fiona Apple hate a good chunk (wouldn't say the majority of their fandom but a significant and very loud part) of their fandom... So many of us behave in a way that Ethel Cain and Fiona apple have criticized and I feel kinda bad for them

like I don't think that Hayden is going "I love the way my fans are talking about dating older men and romanticizing their 3ds and other mental illnesses" lol (not a problem for me because I'm aroace but I do be romanticizing going to the great dark) and I don't think Fiona Apple is a big fan of the "I'm just a girl" thing that a weird amount of her new fans have been doing (and neither am I even if I do indulge in it)

I wonder how a part of their fandom can be so different from them and the views they hold and I think that this can be traced to how that part of the fandom tend to aestheticize their music and very rarely interact with their lyrics and interviews and what not.

once again I know how hypocritical this is coming from a blog that is mostly about my disordered eating but whatever

[noodles-in-the-sink]

IF YOU LIKE IDV, ETHEL CAIN, GOTH MUSIC AND/OR ACE ATTORNEY, BE MY FRIEND RIGHT NOW!!

ESPECIALLY if you are a system as well

I’ll even offer you this horrid doodle I made of Nightmare earlier today!!

[ghoulicides]

two headed mother pulled you from the black

and she can send you back.

@mothercain

[angeliteria]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

[blxvdlusttxx]

Preacher's daughter - Eyeless Jack x Reader

Content warning: Mentions of murder, gore, SMUT, cult activities, sacrifice, dub-con? Jack takes readers virginity, oral (reader receiving) P in V, religion (Christianity) religious trauma? reader questions her religion and belief in God. Degradation (Jack mocks readers religion), corruption kink. mentions of vomiting, praise, pet names (Angel, little thing), angst.

Fem!reader

Request: Yes / No

First smut fic on here! I know i said I'll NEVER write rape-ish fics but I'm trying my hand at not quite non-con but it's a little questionable at the begining, but reader eventually consents so It's not quite out of my confort zone. I've been listening to Ethel Cain's songs Inbred and Strangers and it really inspired this fic.

Again, as mentioned before my stories are based off of Jordan Persegati's videos of the characters so if anything seems off about the story let me know.

Enough yapping, onto the story!

The air felt cold and damp, the smell of blood plagued the wind coming into the cave entrance, making y/n's stomach turn.

She looked up at what her friends had created, the monster they had summoned. She begged them not to do it, pleaded on her knees, hands folded as if she was praying to the God above.

A loud growl could be heard from Jack as he killed the last of her friends that forced him through the sacrifice. A tear rolled down her bloodstained cheek, becoming tainted with the liquid as it trailed down her neck.

Hey eyes widen as she notices that he had also noticed her, slowly approaching her, like a Lion creeps upon his pray. She had never felt so small in her life, he looked so large from her view on the floor. She closed her eyes tight, pushing herself impossibly closer to the wall as she clutched the cross that adorned her neck.

"Darling, God isn't going to help you now." Jack chuckles at the sight of her, his voice horse and scratchy. she looked pathetic, like a tiny child crying for her mother.

"P-please Jack... I didn't want this..." she sobbed, shifting to sit on her knees, head down in shame and fear. She couldn't look at him, she was too ashamed that she couldn't do more to help him out of the disgusting predicament he is now in.

Her plea caused him to chuckle, he crouched down in front of her, looking over her features carefully. She reminded him of a baby deer, her big doe eyes now saddened and filled with tears. Her hair was disheveled and stuck to her face. her white night gown dressed her body loosely, but flattering, the neckline left her collarbones bare, and the cross sat in between them, dangling from her neck. It almost made her look pure, if it weren't for the dirt and blood that stained the white fabric, making it almost see-through.

He smirked at her trembling frame, and stood up before reaching down and slinking his index finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. Her bottom lip quivered, her eyes almost spoke volumes of his preys purity. But Jack knew better, he knew there was room for corruption.

"I'm sorry... I tried to help but they wouldn't listen... p-please I'm so sorry." She sobbed again, her pleas doing nothing more but causing his bloody jeans to tighten at the zipper.

He chuckled again, cupping her cheek with the hand that was holding up her chin, gently stroking her wet cheek with his thumb.

"What's wrong angel? it wasn't your fault" he cooes, looking down at her hungrily. "Your pure heart and "holy" beliefs can only do so much in this sinful world. Is that What you think of me now? A sinner?" He growls. Her eyes widen as she shakes her head frantically.

"N-No! of course not..." y/n whimpers, reaching up and holding onto the arm that touched her.

He enjoyed that look, the look of her on her knees in front of him, weak and bent to his will. He'd almost feel like her God himself, if it weren't for the demon that possessed his soul, hungrily desperate to bend her over and fuck the purity right out of her tight cunt.

He chuckles yet again, and leans down to meet her eyes. He licks his lips starvingly, he wanted to take her. He could, he knows that, but he knew it would be much more satisfying if she wanted it. He wanted to break her, wanted her to beg for him, beg for him to take her all for himself. It was selfish, yes, to steal a girls purity that could only be given once. That pure desire that she'd been saving for so long.

He knew that she was different though. Her eyes could fool anyone, but not him. She took to the "Preacher's daughter" role well, but he knew that she longed for someone to touch her. To make her feel as good as her holy God does.

"You're such a pretty little thing... Christ, look what you do to me" Jack growls lowly, taking ahold of her hand and pressing it firmly against his restrained cock. She whimpers in response, looking down at the evident erection in his pants.

"I-...I don't mean to..." she whispers shamefully, attempting to pull her hand away, He clicks his now elongated tongue against his sharpened teeth and shakes his head.

"I'm afraid God won't help you here, little thing." He snarks, he reaches under her arms and lifts her up, his hands glide down her body to wrap her legs around his waist. He pins her to the wall of the murky cave, leaning in to lick up the side of her neck, nibbling on her ear. A soft moan escapes her lips, her cheeks burning red as another tear rolls down.

"Oh God..." She whines, trying to push away from him.

"How unholy you are, little one" He groans into her ear. "You're not as pure as you let on, are you angel?" he mocks, leaning back to look her in the eyes.

"I-I am....please don't do this." she cries, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life.

"No... I don't think you are baby... I know you want this, we both know it." he smirks, grinding his cock into her clothed cunt. "Your God isn't here sweet girl, there's no need to hide from me." He slides a a hand from her thighs and up her nightgown, slipping under her white panties, he smirks as he rubs circles around her already wet clit.

She whimpers, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He pulls her away from the wall and lays her on the floor, careful not to harm his new toy.

Was this really something that God allowed in this world? The maker of all things, the Almighty, the Healer? How could he allow such sinful things to harm those who don't deserve it? Jack may not be religious, she knew he wasn't. But to allow this to happen to him? Why? It felt like her chest was collapsing, everything she once believed in crashing down around her, mocking her naive trust and devotion.

Her thoughts swallowed her whole, only snapping out of it when she felt Jack's warm tongue against her pussy, licking a stripe up from her hole and swirling around her clit. She gasps, gripping his hair tightly to ground herself. He laughs menacingly, crawling up her body to look her in the eyes.

"there you are angel, where'd your pretty little mind wonder off to, hm?" he whispers, a cunning grin plastered on his lips.

"W-why are you doing this?" she whines, wanting to push him away, but also not wanting to. She knew this was a sin, this dirty feeling would stain her image in the Lord's eyes forever. Maybe Jack was right, maybe God really isn't there after all.

"I've decided that you're mine, my little angel." he presses a kiss to her temple. "You don't belong to your pathetic God anymore, you're all mine." he growls, trailing back down her body.

Y/n shuts her eyes tight, maybe being his wouldn't be so bad. He hadn't killed her yet, after all.

A soft moan leaves her lips as he ravished her, sucking and licking her pussy like it's the last meal he'll ever have. Her eyes snap open as she feels him slip a finger inside her, it was large, the unfamiliar sting of her insides being stretched open caused tears to prick at her eyes once again. It was painful, but the pleasure soon took over her body as he pumped in and out.

"J-Jack..." she moans, pulling at his hair. The feeling of pleasure was something she had never experienced before. She'd heard stories from her friend's, sure, and she was always curious to know what it felt like, but she knew that it was a sin to partake in any sexual activities before marriage. Her virginity was important to her, It was something that she was excited to give to her future husband. To remain pure and untainted by men. Now, she questioned what that even meant.

She felt disgusting for liking the way he's making her feel. Every throb and wave of pleasure caused her to cringe. As the blissful feeling grew more intense, she cared less. She wanted him to touch her, she wanted him to touch her till she vomited from the violating feeling, it was addicting. She never thought it would be this intoxicating.

She felt strange, the feeling of bliss was becoming unbearable, she didn't understand what was happening. Was she dying, Is this god punishing her for her sin?

"J-Jack I- What's happening?" she pants, trying desperately to squirm away and catch her breath.

"It's alright angel, let it come." Jack cooes, holding her in place by her hips and continuing his attack on her clit. He inserts another finger and laps at her clit, chuckling at her desperate moans and pleas

Her first orgasm hit her light a fright train, she cried out, her body convulsing and grinding into his face. Her back arched, head leaned back as she cried out into the night.

He slowed down after allowing her to ride out her high. He kissed up her body before meeting her face, keeping eye contact as her slipped his fingers into his mouth, licking up all the juices that leaked out of her.

"Shhh, it's alright angel, you're such a good girl" Jack cooes. He reaches down and unbuckles his belt, undoing the button and sliding down the zipper of his jeans. Her eyes lock in his hands, unable to form a coherent sentence as he pulls them down, allowing his large cock to spring up, slapping against his shirt. Her lip begins to quiver, fear begins to take over at the large size of him.

Jack notices as he positions himself between her legs, his leaky tip prodding at her entrance.

"It's alright angel, I'll be gentle, don't worry." he shushes her, reaching up to grip her hips as he presses in. It was beyond painful, her eyes screwed shut as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She wanted to be his. She didn't care about anything else, only him. He was all that mattered to her now.

Tears ran down her temples as he stretched her out, his cock beginning to be coated in the blood of her now torn hymen. When he finally bottomed out, he remained there for a moment, pressing kisses to her tears as he waited for her to adjust to his size.

He eventually started moving, thrusting his cock into her over and over again. She moaned, gripping at his body as he took her all. The pain subsided and she was greeted with that feeling, the feeling of pure bliss that only he could make her feel.

He growled lowly, sucking on her neck until the skin was raw and purple as he thrusted into her. She was tight, it felt like she was milking him for all he had.

"Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good" he groans, increasing his pace.

the intense feeling was returning with every thrust of his cock. He felt so experienced, every way he moved, kissed, touched, it felt like he knew her body like a prayer. She cried out, desperate to feel that feeling again.

"Jack please" she begged, pulling on his hair.

"I know angel, I'll make you cum, just relax. I'm almost there too baby" he groans into her ear, reaching down to rub at her clit.

It finally hit her again, and she cried out, babbling a mix of his name and "oh god yes." he grunted, his own release hitting him. he filled up her tight cunt, a mix of cum and blood drooled out of her hole.

"You're mine, angel. all mine" he growled, and reached up, he yanks the cross off her neck and throws it God knows where on the dirty ground.

[ruddyhotelau]

I just saw that Abel and Cain are in this AU and will be swapped. Can you tell us anything about what you are planning with them?

Hmmmmmm, Abel would be the first-ever killer in human history while Cain became an angel. This dynamic changed because Eve was not their mother, that role was given to a normal woman in that period of time. We already have plans for them and well, another crackship for us to rant about (One of us kinda have a hot for Abel, sorry guys ;-;). Sorry that we can't really tell you much about them or their life after they died. But I think this is the least of what we can show. Please enjoy their dynamic!! (Please keep in mind that this happen before they died and before Abel kill his brother. Also, this is NOT Bible accurate, we just make this up)

"Abel: You wouldn't understand!!! Cain: How can I even understand if you didn't tell me?! Abel: Because you act like I didn't know how much you loveeeee our dad- Cain: He is our dad for God's sake!! Listen to your own sense!!! Abel: So there you have it, problems solved. Can you just leave me alone!!? Cain: You are my younger brother and I won't let you sit here and act miserable!!! I know you are upset about our mom's death but you have to accept it!!! Abel: It's not just about her only but also about how I know you won't believe a word I said. What if I told you that our perfect ideal dad is a shitty cheater-

With that, Cain finally had it, Abel could mad at him however he wanted but he wouldn't let Abel talk about their dad with such disrespect. A loud slap echo in the night and Abel lying on the ground the next second.

Cain: Abel, I- Abel: Huh... Now I know why she told me to let it go... Cain: Abel, I'm sorry- Abel: For the last time, Cain... Leave me alone. With that, Abel walked away, leaving Cain behind with regret filled in his eyes... "

There you have it, ancient siblings angst ✨✨✨

[wavesalwayscrash]

I've been listening to the spotify playlist and have been wondering, if each mainish character was a song, what would each of their songs be? Or maybe less what song would they be and what would their favorite song be? Any on the playlist or are those more story based songs instead of character based songs? Love the story and I'm excited to see more of it!

The songs on the playlist are just any song that reminds me of the character or the story. A lot of them are specific character songs or like. Character dynamic songs. (and also I love talking about songs that fit my ocs so here ya go)

Lain: Ptolemaea - Ethel Cain (I would like to make a lain video with it someday but it would be. a lot.)

Mariner: Amen - Amber Run

Canary: The Sea is a Good Place to Think of the Future - Los Campesinos! (makes me cry when I think about Mariner and Canary too hard.)

The King: Why We Build The Wall - Hadestown (Original Cast)

Condor: I can't Decide - Scissor Sisters (not on the playlist bc it would ruin the playlist's vibe SO HARD but I can't deny it's the most condor song)

Warbler: Rule #4 - Fish in a Birdcage - Fish in a birdcage

Grouse: Red Hour - tart

Crane: Mother Knows Best (Reprise) - Tangled (doesn't fit the plot like .at all. which is why it isn't on the playlist, but the vibes are super crane)

[asoftepiloguemylove]

i will do as devils do. fall.

Sylvia Plath The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath / S. Osborn Blasphemies at the 5th Street Station / Kate Cayley Lent / retirementfund (on etsy) BEGOTTN HORROR PATCH / Ethel Cain Sun Bleached Files / Nicola Yoon The Sun is Also a Star / unknown

i. Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[ "I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty." ]

ii. S. Osborn, Blasphemies at the 5th Street Station

[ " 'if there is a light then i am going to swallow it. if there is a god then i'm going to make him cry.' / - s. osborn, from 'blasphemies at the 5th street station,' published in The Rising Phoenix Review (via lifeinpoetry)" ]

iii. Kate Cayley, Lent

[ "When I think of God, I think of hiding. The way a child hides. In hope of being found." ]

iv. retirementfund, BEGOTTN HORROR PATCH

[ Black patch with a screenshot form the horror movie Begotten. A grainy black and white image of a woman standing as she looks down at something. "GOD IS DEAD / ALL HAIL NATURE" ]

v. Ethel Cain, Sun Bleached Files

[ "What I wouldn't give to be in Church this Sunday / Listening to the choir, so heartfelt, all singing / God loves you, but not enough to save you" ]

vii. Nicola Yoon, The Sun is Also a Star

[ "I wish I still felt that way. Growing up and seeing your parents flaws is like losing your religion. I don't believe in God anymore. I don't believe in my father either." ]

vii. unknown

[ Black and white drawing of a statue of a man looking upwards into the distance. "GOD ONLY LISTENS TO ME WHEN I SPEAK THROUGH SIN / IN TRANSLATION MY PRAYERS FALL FROM GRACE BUT I AM HEARD" ]

[joejhang]

gave in to the voices and listened to preacher's daughter and thought of neil josten

jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mother's blood; u could reverse it and make it about his father instead but either way it works

he cannot escape what he's made up of; neil's family issues <3

i'm just a child but i'm not above violence my mama raised me better than that; self-explanatory but his mama did raise him like that

i've killed before and i'll kill again; also self-explanatory

hell don't scare me i've been times before; evermore and the baltimore house both count as hell on earth

that's how my daddy raised me if they strike once then you just hit em twice as hard; again you could make this about his mother but either way it makes sense

i'm tired of you still tied to me; disgustingly painful reference to his family and fucked up childhood of course

if it's meant to be then it will be i forgive it all as it comes back to me; actually sickening because this is literally what was playing in my mind as i read the scene where he gets kidnapped and he just accepts it

found you just to tell you that i made it real far and that i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did while you were torn apart; very fitting considering this is ethel cain talking to her mother and this is also pretty much how neil thinks of his own mother

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

Armand hunting to me is summed up in Ethel Cains

‘ptolemaea’

Specifically, the acapella version.

The voice you hear of Isaiah and also of who I think is death mixed with Isaiah at the end, is Armand when he’s lured his hunt in.

Because remember, Armand hunts those who either long for death, those with suicidal ideation and mental illness, or are just unnoticed and almost unloved by the world that who would really notice if they just vanished one day. Or people who he deems as doing more harm in this world that him killing them makes up for it.

But Armand also enjoys the hunt of it all. He makes it this weird game, for no one but himself really. See him making the game ‘you make it an hour away from my penthouse, and you win all the bitcoin or crypto you could want’ he knows no one will be able to win. But that’s the fun. Seeing them try.

The lyrics in Ptolemaea, the voice you hear talking *Isaiah in the Ethel Cain lore* is Armand, but Armand is also Ethel’s part of ptolmaea….but it’s not Armand it’s Arun, it’s Amadeo…

Armand:

I followed you in

I was with you there

I invited you in

Twice, I did

You love blood too much

But not like I do

Not like I do

————-

Heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you

Need you, love you, love you, love you

Heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you

Need you, love you, love you, love you

Love you, saw you, love you, gave you

Love you, love you, love you, love you

Love you, saw you, felt you, love you

Love you, love you, love you, love you

Love you, love you, love you, love you

Love you, love you, love you, love you

You'd do well to say yes to me

———-

Arun/Amadeo:

Suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee

Promising a big fire, any fire

Saying I'm the one, he's gonna take me

I'm on fire, I'm on fire, I'm on fire

Suffering is nigh, drawing to me

Calling me the one, I'm the white light

Beautiful, finite

Even the iron still fears the rot

Hiding from something I cannot stop

Walking on shadows, I can't lead him back

Buckled on the floor when night comes along

Daddy's left and Mama won't come home

—————

Armand:

You poor thing

Sweet, mourning lamb

There's nothing you can do

It's already been done

Show me your face

———-

Arun:

What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me

Please don't look at me

I can see it in your eyes

He keeps looking at me

Tell me, what have you done

Stop, stop, stop, make it stop, stop

Make it stop

Make it stop, I've had enough

Stop, stop, stop, stop

———-

Armand:

I am the face of love's rage

I am the face of love's rage

————-

Armand:

Blessed be the Daughters of Cain,

bound to suffering eternal through the sins of their fathers committed long before their conception

Blessed be their whore mothers, tired and angry waiting with bated breath in a ferry that will never move again

Blessed be the children, each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence

Blessed be you, girl, promised to me by a man who can only feel hatred and contempt towards you

I am no good nor evil, simply I am, and I have come to take what is mine

I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood

I am here now as you run from me still

Run then, child

You can't hide from me forever

—————————

In conclusion Armand is Ethel Cain coded and I will hear no arguments because I am right.

Also Lestat/louis, Claudia/Madeline, and Armand/daniel is strangers by Ethel Cain coded. No I won’t explain go listen to the song and you’ll see why!

[ready2bl0w]

Dante and Vergil Music Headcanons (featuring playlists)

Dante

In my opinion, Dante comes across as someone who dabbles in a variety of genres, although he’s not without his favorites. He certainly favors rock and R&B above all. With Dante, he’s busting out your typical “Dad Rock” artists, alongside some industrial (I swear I’m not saying this because I'm a rivethead). He definitely listens to Nine Inch Nails. Pretty Hate Machine is his favorite album. He listens to some KMFDM (Ready to Blow and Stray Bullet are both Dante-coded). He’s an absolute sucker for that signature rugged mechanical sound. It scratches something in his brain. On the more classic side of things, Dante enjoys his fair share of SOAD, Guns N’ Roses, Alice in Chains, Melvins (does that count as “Dad Rock”???), AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Pearl Jam, and some of the heavier Nirvana tracks. I mean, I could go on and on, but this is just a small scope of what kind of rock he’s bumping.

In terms of R&B, Michael Jackson is a given. I also picture Dante listening to a lot of “hornier” tracks and artists. Thinking Adina Howard's Freak Like Me, Ginuwine’s Pony, and just all of Jodeci in particular. Prince and Janet Jackson are among his favorites as well (he often hums Nasty to himself). Sir Mix-A-Lot would also be in his rotation. Select songs, but nonetheless, when he comes on, Dante can’t help but bob his head ever so slightly to those raunchy tunes.

His guilty pleasures are Barbie Girl and anything the Vengaboys make.

Vergil

Classical music is a given. Tchaikovsky, Wagner, and Mozart are among his favorites. Aside from that, I’ll be honest, I’m unsure as to what else he listens to. Not very familiar with the eldest twin. Although, I can see him playing some tunes from “The Phantom of The Opera,” “Carmen,” and the like (perhaps on an old record player he managed to get his hands on. I imagine he takes jobs alongside Dante sometime after they return from hell, so…). Once he’s settled into the human world, as best as he can, I imagine him experimenting with some gothic music, mainly tracks heavy with orchestral instruments. OH! Add 20’s - 40’s jazz to that as well. Specific songs, however. Not that many, in fact.

Many of the songs listed in the playlist below are NOT songs Vergil would listen to (unfortunately, I don’t think he’d give Bad Apple a try). However, I find the lyrical content fits Vergil well—sometimes to a T.

Take Ethel Cain’s Family Tree (Intro). The second verse goes:

Jesus can always reject his father, But he cannot escape his mother's blood. He'll scream and try to wash it off of his fingers, But he'll never escape what he's made up of.

While Vergil cannot reject his father, he certainly can’t escape the human blood Eva has passed onto him. He does his absolute best to cast away his humanity, operating with the sole purpose of gaining power so that he may never be that helpless boy, pierced by demons and left behind by his family. His efforts are in vain, however, and we see that his humanity still lingers inside him through V.

“He’ll never escape what he’s made up of.”

His guilty pleasure? Earth, Wind & Fire’s Let’s Groove, of course.

[suzukiblu]

I haven’t seen your Cass (Cain) at all. I’d love to see her. I’d also LOVE to get to see some Chris and Lois (or more Kon and Lois)! Lois choosing to be a mother despite lacking most of the natural instincts, and having issues with her own parents, means so much to me!

I def have a few WIPs with parental!Lois ahead, mostly with Kon and Match, but since I don't think I've posted anything with Cass yet, have this scene.

Context: omega!Jason is high-key feral and compulsively nesting about it.

"What on earth are you doing in there, Todd?" Pup Brother asks, eyeing the crumpled blankets on the foyer floor. Quiet Sister is standing beside him and looks excited, leaning forward towards the doorway on her tiptoes. Jason didn't notice them coming, but he wasn't all that worried about listening for anyone either. Also, they're both very quiet when they move anyway. 

"Nest," Jason says. He doesn't think he's being all that subtle here, but Pup Brother didn't get a traditional pack upbringing, he knows. At least, not the kind that allowed for nesting. That's not really how the League works. 

Jason definitely never nested when he was with the League. 

". . . nest?" Pup Brother asks, and looks just a little bit curious. 

Does Pup Brother ever build nests, Jason wonders? He's an omega too. He should learn how, if he hasn't yet. 

"Nest," he repeats firmly, then gestures beckoningly with a blanket that smells acceptably of packscent. Pup Brother frowns, looking confused. 

Nest! Quiet Sister signs delightedly before giving Pup Brother an encouraging push into the living room. She doesn't come in herself, though. Which–Quiet Sister is an alpha, of course, so that makes sense. Jason just wasn't sure if she'd know the etiquette, all things considered. 

"Er," Pup Brother says doubtfully, glancing between them. "Do you require . . . assistance, Todd?" 

Jason dumps an armful of throw pillows on him, then starts demonstrating how to arrange them on the floor. Pup Brother frowns again, holding the unused pillows in his arms and observing the building process intently. Jason is pleased. Pup Brother should learn this. Pup Brother should learn this, so he's showing Pup Brother this. So he's being good! Very good. A good omega. Yes! 

They're both being good. 

So that's good. 

Jason purrs some more. Quiet Sister flutters her hands happily, still waiting in the doorway. Jason wants to invite her in, but really needs to get the nest more established first. 

He'll let her in the nest itself, he already knows. Once it's done, obviously. Quiet Sister probably hasn't really been in a nest before–Pup Brother is the only other omega in the pack, after all, and she doesn't have an omega mate or any omega friends, so when would she have? 

. . . unless she's still courting that weird flirty omega from Little Brother's other pack, maybe? The sort-of-alien-sort-of-human one that makes cloud castles and almost drowned with her in a basement that one time or whatever. Whatever his name is. 

Or . . . wait, was Little Brother the one courting him? 

Hm. 

Well, maybe they both were. Jason isn't really sure, come to think. 

He'll ask later, he decides, and lays down some more throw pillows. Either way he's still inviting Quiet Sister into his nest once it's done. Quiet Sister deserves all the nests she can get. 

Jason hopes she'll like his.

[gh0st0o]

Guys I can’t stop drawing her!😭

I’m not going to lie, I really like the concept of her but I wasn’t really a bad big fan of her whole design nor her backstory because I feel like the creator could’ve added more into her backstory and her character in general. Like why was her eyes black or what’s going on with her family’s relationship and what’s the background of the judgment angel. Also because I wasn’t a big fan of the design….

So of course I did some redesign then I’m going to change her background and backstory a bit. I’m still keeping the concept of her being the judge angel, I just have to work on the judgement angel and hers relationship because I feel like she would be a vessel. Then I will have to write down her backstory which will take some time because I still wanna keep some part of her old backstory but I don’t wanna completely make a new backstory for her, so I will do a mixture of her old backstory and added some new stuff into the backstory.

Anyways here some headcanons and some ideas I have with her. :3

Judge Angels/Dina Angela Clark headcanons or au ideas

-freckles and moles on her face and body, long curly blonde hair and blonde lashes.

-she has bad religious trauma and used live in the southern side or country side where, she doesn’t know any technology or doesn’t know anything city side.

-on her back, she has a angel wings white tattoo(because she is marked to be the vessel of the judgement angel).

-she likes to wear long flowy white dresses and likes to wear pearl necklaces or earrings.

-she loves sheeps,goats and lambs.

-she likes to listen to waltz or classical music.

-her whole aesthetic is literally southern gothic! 😭

-I feel like she’ll listen to Ethal Cain and mitski.

-she lives in a huge isolated place and area that is like a mixture of a church,hospital and a orphanage home and lives in it with other creeps but mostly the children,doctor and nurses creeps.

-of course she is the next judgement angel vessel and she will gain it’s ability.

-when she gets older, she wanted to be a nun but now she doesn’t want to be one after her trauma.

-she has candle or floral scent.

-she loves running around the forest in her long white flowy dress in the tall grass or the forest.

-she does grow angel wings if she reaches her full potential but she doesn’t know how to do that currently.

-she loves reading and wants to live in the library forever. Her favorite genre horror,dark romance,dark fantasy and of course read the Bible.

The Judgement Angel

I’m still working on some lore on this angel but the only thing you guys gotta know is that, that’s the original judgement angel that chose Dina as the chosen vessel to continue it’s legacy and name.

The only things I wrote about this angel is that how it chooses that vessel is of course by judging and seeing the potential in that person. If they were the chosen one then the Judgment angel will emerge themselves on the pregnant mother and putting all their life,power and whole existence on that vessel that the mother will give birth to. However that comes with a catch, that vessel will be marked with changed appearances, giving them black eyes and a white tattoo Angel wings mark on the back.

If y’all have anymore questions or have some confusion on reading this, then please ask or comment if you wish to know more. I don’t wanna write anything into a wrong idea.😭