#black page orchestra

[garadinervi]

Maja Osojnik & Black Page Orchestra & Maiken Beer, Doorways, (Hand printed Limited Editions 12", CD, Digital album, 6 Poster/Prints, 1 Postcard, 1 Inlay), MAM08, Mamka Records, 2024

Recorded between 2022 – 2024 in different Locations in Vienna Field recorders, electronics recorded, recorders and flute, voice recorded by Maja Osojnik Black Page Orchestra recorded by Alfred Reiter in Westbahnstudios Cello on Blende 01 recorded by Lukas Froschauer in Homestudio Composed, edited, premixed, produced by Maja Osojnik Mixed and mastered by Matija Schellander

LP artwork (mixed media) by Maja Osojnik Photography by Christopher Sturmer

CD artwork Sujet: graphic sound score by Maja Osojnik Artwork & graphic by graphic design Circus, Col Legno

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (One)

CW: Mutual masturbation ;)

Inspired by Neighbour!Simon

Chapter Two

Your legs perched up across the woven strings of the porch chair, knees littered with blue and black kisses, knotted joints tucked into your chest as you watched the peak of gold settle into a deep blue. Bony fingers laced the pages between parched hands, eyes darting maliciously between words as you hummed to yourself softly.

You were used to being out here alone, an orchestra of bats occasionally sounding out to you as they scurried away into pine trees, nipping between each other.  Your flat, a smaller duplex, was tucked away into a quiet cul-de-sac, away from the hustle and bustle of London life. It was an organised routine, your body succumbing to the night air as you bathed in the comforting atmosphere of the twilight. There was an occasional hum from up the road, the chug of a car passing through, but your interest peaked when the gravel road lit up, headlights streaming towards you as you shielded your eyes.

The sound of the engine frightened you a bit before you adjusted your vision. A large shadow stepped into view, the staggering height of a man peaking your attention before you took in the balaclava flushed against his face, russet eyes covered by a delicate frame of blonde lashes, stained with black face paint staring at you before dropping his head in a curt nod.

You recognised him as your neighbour. Quiet bloke, away often on deployment you presumed, but nether-the-less was a comfort for you. Even at home, it was like he was never there, the occasional echo of hollow boots sounding against the floorboards before they disappeared. He was ghostly, slightly peculiar but you noted him down mainly as mysterious.

You had spoken a few times, sounding good morning as he was outside having a smoke when you were leaving for work. His response was gruff and shallow, a deep voice barking out a short reply before smashing the dart under the rubble of his shoe, calloused hands gripping the door handle.

He walked past you, duffle bag dropped against the porch as he huffed with his keys, bruised knuckles peaking your attention as you glanced at him, framed eyes peering in curiosity.

“Y’ alright?” His tone was curt, a hint of annoyance ringing through as his eyes stained trained on the metal knob, working the key through the hole.

You squeaked out a noise, taken back by him as you adjusted in the chair, feet flat against the floor now. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just not used to you being here, it’s uh, nice for you to be back, less lonely,” you rambled, shuffling your hands awkwardly before you shut yourself up.

He let out a grunt, the noise almost animalistic sounding as he shut the door, his vague appearance shuffling into the quiet of his own home as you sat outside, whispering an expletive under your breath as you prodded at the ecchymosis on your nobbled knees.

Rough hands rubbed at the face paint, gentle soap working into the scorn skin, thickened skin almost melting under the velocity of the scolding water. Simon’s throat was scratchy, the irritating feeling of sandpaper lining his oesophagus as he choked out a cough. Broken blood vessels littered across the scarring of his back and ribs, a splurge of hematoma drawn across the broken skin.

Ivory skin was now painted with falling droplets of water, a scratchy moose-coloured towel adorned his hips as he shook his hair, moist residue landing on the mirror as he rubbed his hands across his face, a soft moan leaving his lips as he prodded the tender knot in his back.  

His home felt foreign, no matter how long he had lived there for.

His bedroom had dusk lighting, a double bed pushed against the flaky walls, the metal rods holding the frame scraping at the paint. A singular pillow to each side perked up against his touch as he layered them, unused linen welcoming him with a slight dusty smell, aching body collapsing into the plushness of the duvet.

He was aware that your bedroom was adjacent to his, your beds pushed directly together on opposite ends. He could hear the subtle creaks of your feet against the floor as you shuffled around, a chair squeaking across the floor as it collided with something before the noise of you walking sounded again. Simon could hear the springs in your bed, an acknowledgement that you were now lying down.

There was a low hum of a fan whirring, the white noise drifting into his room as he stared up at his own, the stagnant noise felt unorthodox, the familiarity of the barracks being the usual for the Lieutenant. Simon’s hands felt weighed down as he moved them from his chest to rest at his side, his breathing shallow as his ears perked at every movement you made.

You were restless, sweaty body tangled between cotton as you adjusted yourself, flinging your blankets off you as you let out gentle pants. You cursed at the lack of air conditioning available in British homes, peeling off your silken pyjama shorts as you flung them somewhere across your bedroom. Your body was hot and achy, the heat settling in even during the night as you turned to the side, beady eyes watching as the wind flickered the branches occasionally. You were tempted to sleep outside at this point, your room feeling like a sauna as you let out a frustrated quip.

There was a subtle ache between your thighs, a dull throbbing ringing through your brain as you attempted to position yourself better, clicking your calves as you rustled around. Tired arms stretched your top over your head as it too met the wraith of your floor, bare breasts perked against your sheets as you closed your eyes, cuddling up against a pillow.

Slumber never succumbed to your heated frame, the drill of your fan almost teasing you as it provided minimum cooling. You spread your legs, sweat prickling over your stretch marks as you moaned in annoyance. Your fingers trailed your slit through the thin fabric, turquoise-coloured panties fading into an aqua as you let out a shaky breath. You felt dirty, the dull throb of your cunt mocking you as needy fingers hooked into the lace, dragging them down the plushness of your thighs before settling at the end of your bed.

You fumbled around in your draw, clumsy fingers feeling around for your bullet vibrator before they rubbed against the silicone. You were sure to be quiet, your hands covering the majority of the vibrations as you nestled it between your folds, collecting the sweetness of your slick before resting it on your achy clit, an instant moan rising at your throat as you tweaked at your nipples.

The hum against your sex wasn’t enough as you sat up, resting the vibrator on your swollen nub as you straddled a pillow, sloppy pussy grinding against it rapidly as you rutted like a dog in heat, chasing your high.

You were a sight for sore eyes, breasts bouncing at your movements as you humped against the cushion, the cheap sex toy sounding against the bundle of nerves as you let out soft whimpers, mouth opened in an ‘o’ shape as you tugged at your hardened nubs that were practically aching against your chest.

It was like you were going through puberty again, squishy sounds squelching from your cunt at the licentious actions, hips getting sloppy as you felt your coil forming, antagonising moans dripping from your lips as you stilled, the silicone pressed sweetly into your clit as you whined into your hand, orgasm ripping through you as you jutted away from the stimulation, collapsing into a heap.

Simon frowned at how quickly your noises were over as a spit-covered cock throbbed in agony, veiny hands jutting around the angry member as he milked himself to the memory of your orgasm, hot splashes of cum spurting against his belly, a thick trail of hair leading down to his softening cock as he cleaned himself up before nestling into the comfort of his sheets and the barely audible hum of your breathing.

[sunnami]

deleted draft/scene - watch me, don’t touch me, love me, don’t hurt me.

legitimately cannot write anything at the moment, so please have this for a bit T-T

“LILY, DARLING! That dress looks utterly divine! Is that Charmeuse silk? The purple simply brings out the color in your eyes! And your skin, my love! Just glowing! Tell me—have you been trying those snail facials? I hear they’re all the rage nowadays.”

Amidst the Yule Ball festivities, a crowd gathers in the corner of the icy ballroom; far beyond the ages of awkward teenage hand-holding, and an acquired taste for Firewhiskey rather than fruit punch. In the middle of it all—is you. Obnoxiously catching everyone’s attention, whether they like it or not. But even the Dementors in Azkaban would find themselves drawn to your shrilling voice and careless display of wealth; like a bee to a field of flowers. Your gown is dripping in black, hand-woven gothic lace, and drapes of ruffled, yellow satin skirts. It is a testament to your House—the cete of badgers. A pear cut, Canary Diamond necklace sits atop your neck. The capelet around your shoulders is of black velvet and gold trimmings. 

(Always the belle of the ball, but Sirius Black wonders if there’s anything in your head at all.)

(“Bloody hell.” Marlene grabs the flask of whiskey from Sirius’s hands and pours the burning liquid down her throat. “I’m going to need more of this if I plan on surviving the night. Surely there are more important matters to discuss than French designers and our frilly dresses. It’s like I’m back in sixth-year all over again.”

Sirius shakes the now-empty container in amusement. “And you thought stealing my stash was the best idea? Do you know how hard it was to sneak this in with Minnie glaring down my shoulders? I swear that woman treats me like I’m still fourteen.”)

“We work in the same castle, Lily flower, but it’s a pity we don’t run into each other much,” You say liltingly, lipstick staining the rim of your champagne glass. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were deliberately avoiding me!”

Lily flashes you a constrained smile. “On the contrary, I’ve been rather busy these days helping Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary. My responsibility, after all, is first and foremost—the children.” She raises a brow at you contemptuously. “Not all of us have the luxury of skipping work for tea and gossip.”

You hum, lips quirked in amusement. “Oh? That’s a shame. Narcissa and I would love for you to join us one day.” 

“Perhaps when I’ve no longer important things to do,” says Lily in a saccharine-sweet tone. 

You grow bored of toying with Lily—to her relief—and decide to throw a bone at Rita Skeeter. The bloodthirsty journalist preys hungrily at your every word—and you’re more than willing to satiate the irritable, little pest. You have nobles from pure-blooded families kissing at your feet for a moment of your time; entertaining a crowd like this takes no effort. (Except for the Marauders, you find. They’re the section that plays out of tune in the orchestra you’re conducting.) 

“You wouldn’t believe it, Rita darling, of all the people I come upon in Rome—it’s Vittoria Zabini!” You throw your head back in laughter as Rita’s eyes grow wide as a bug’s. “On a honeymoon, no less!” You wink at Rita. “This makes her fourth one now, I believe.” 

As predicted, Rita greedily whips out her Quick-Quotes Quill. “Riveting.” She pushes her glasses upwards with a quirk of her lips. “We may have tomorrow’s front page at our hands.” 

Lily hides a scoff by taking a sip of her sparkling beverage. “Surely we have more important news for the wizarding world than an innocent woman’s marriage.” 

You gasp melodramatically. “But this is Vittoria Zabini! Haven’t you ever wondered why her husbands mysteriously disappear after months of marriage?”

“Not even once!” Lily slams her glass down onto the round, draped table; nostrils flaring and chest heaving. “Sorry.” She dabs a napkin at her lips with a heavy exhale. “Please excuse me. I’ve just lost my appetite.” 

“Poor dear,” You mutter as the red-headed beauty makes for the group of Gryffindors a few feet away. She instantly collapses into James’s arms, no doubt complaining about your charming personality. There’s an odd ache in your heart as you watch the McKinnon girl pat her back comfortingly; Remus Lupin taking Lily’s hands and easing her anger. You’ve never felt a camaraderie such as theirs. Always the Gryffindors, and their flagrant displays of loyalty and whatnot. 

How repulsive. 

this was one of the first ever drafts for the fic! and no, the yule ball scene won’t be like this, it’ll be quite better, i hope. ;0

[eternalstateofoctober]

— 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔦 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔟𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 | AMC’s IWTV

also known as ”local woman is roused to learn editing to deliver everyone this fandom classic” (the video's synced better on desktop)

transcription/video description under the cut:

[video description: a fan video/edit of amc’s ”interview with the vampire” by tumblr user @eternalstateofoctober (me!!) set to a shortened version of lenka’s ”everything at once”. the video clips are cut to the rhythm of the song and its changing lyrics. the song is catchy and upbeat with a light, bouncy rhythm and a whimsical but also slightly melancholic vibe at times. it has a steady beat with repeating piano notes and some xylophone. the video clips are muted so only the song is playing, save for a few voiceover lines and sound effects.

(instrumental intro, repeating piano notes)

the théâtre des vampires orchestra starts playing and another member checks the projector. a watermark with the username @eternalstateofoctober flashes on screen and disappears at the same time as a projector light flickers.

🎵 as sly as a fox 🎵

two clips of daniel after the trial script reveal. first he tosses the script to louis, then he pushes his glasses up and casts a hard look at an off-screen armand.

🎵 as strong as an ox 🎵

armand uses the mind gift to make the coven fall asleep at the dinner table in 2x04, voiceover of him yelling ”enough!” angrily and banging the table. table settings clattering. then lestat using the mind gift at the trial to manipulate louis’ sentence. his left ear starts bleeding. VO lestat: ”banishment...”

🎵 as fast as a hare 🎵

louis sprints at daniel in ’73, making him stumble back.

🎵 as brave as a bear 🎵

clips of young daniel being tortured by armand. first he lifts his gaze, then there’s two clips of him being slammed down by armands powers. last clip is him closing his eyes while armand holds his face. VO of daniel’s grunts and whimpers.

🎵 as free as a bird 🎵

claudia on stage as baby lu mimes opening a window made of projections happily.

🎵 as neat as a word 🎵

claudia writes in her diary in season 1, the clip has a double exposure effect with her pen moving on the page.

🎵 as quiet as a mouse 🎵

a wide shot of the sewers the children of darkness inhabit.

🎵 as big as a house 🎵

establishing shot of the théâtre des vampires building. suddenly the screen flashes black and there’s a quick flickering shot of the talamasca logo on daniel’s laptop screen and a glitching sound effect.

🎵 as mean as a wolf 🎵

close-up of santiago on stage in 2x02, he looks right at the audience seductively.

🎵 as sharp as a tooth 🎵

shots of the vamps baring their fangs. lestat ripping the priests throat out in 1x01, claudia in madeleine’s shop, louis in ’73 showing off to daniel, armand hissing at lestat in 2x03.

🎵 as deep as a bite 🎵

extreme close-up of lestat biting louis at the altar.

🎵 as dark as the night 🎵

madeleine lights a candle that illuminates her face during a power outage. she’s watched from outside her shop window by a curious claudia.

🎵 as sweet as a song 🎵

young daniel embraces armand after armand has manipulated him to accept death. armand strokes his hair and there’s armand’s calm whisper as a voiceover: ”i’ll hold you…”

🎵 as right as a wrong 🎵

claudia’s real turning. lestat looks up from an off-screen louis who’s begging on his knees. in the second clip he’s kneeling next to claudia on the floor and lifting her upper body while louis’ back is still turned to them.

🎵 as long as a road 🎵

louis’ finger taps a spot on a map in the warzone.

🎵 as ugly as a toad 🎵

the vampire bruce cocking his head.

🎵 as pretty as a picture, hanging from a fixture 🎵

lestat’s portrait hangs on the wall in the théâtre’s green room in 2x02, jumpcut to it in flames in 2x08.

🎵 strong like a family 🎵

the de pointe du lac and frenière families pose for a portrait at grace’s wedding. the clip changes to the next with the camera’s flash going off.

🎵 strong as i wanna be 🎵

VO Madeleine: ”mais j'ai survécu.” (”but i survived” in french). shots of madeleine’s past, the trial by mob. extreme close-up of her crying face, the angry crowd surrounding her, her screaming while her hair is shorn. the segment ends with her throwing an iron through her shop window where a group of locals has just painted a swastika. sound effect of glass shattering.

🎵 bright as day, as light as play 🎵

madeleine’s vision of claudia as she’s turned. claudia in a yellow dress in madeleine’s shop, smiling to the camera—at madeleine—and turning to the mirror. the whole scene basks in warm, bright afternoon light.

🎵 as hard as nails 🎵

grace looks up at a slightly off-screen louis in 1x05, a hard, difficult look. they are at louis’ fake grave at night and grace is holding a funeral bouquet.

🎵 as grand as a whale 🎵

two clips after one another. first is louis being buried alive in 2x07, a silent scream as the rocks rush to cover his face. second one is his feet stepping onto the rocks in the penthouse’s sundial room. VO old daniel: ”where’s your coffin?”

(the music quiets and slows down slightly for the next line.)

🎵 as warm as the sun 🎵

close-up of claudia burning in the sun at the trial. she is turning into ash but still looks at an off-screen lestat.

🎵 as silly as fun 🎵

several clips in rapid succession. murder family laughing at a movie theatre, them dancing together—holding hands, claudia cheering riding the sidecar of a motorcycle in paris during the théâtre’s group hunting, armand smirking wearing malek’s glasses, vamp daniel’s tv interview, him laughing at the host.

🎵 as cool as a tree 🎵

real rashid steps slightly forward, hands clasped behind his back with a neutral expression.

🎵 as scary as the sea 🎵

two clips of armand in ’73. first his eyes shake as he slams daniel down with his powers in the background, then him turning slowly—eyes wide—to face daniel that’s sitting in front of him.

🎵 as hot as fire 🎵

three clips showing fire in the show. first: daciana throwing herself into the flames, second: armand’s fire gift, him looking at a flame in his hand, third: the théâtre’s fire starting behind louis as he looks into claudia’s mirror backstage. the mirror reads ”tweedily deedily dead”.

🎵 cold as ice 🎵

louis cuts off santiago’s head, louis smirking, looking down. VO: louis’ satisfied chuckle.

🎵 sweet as sugar and everything nice 🎵

VO louis and old daniel: ”would you like a sample?” ”i’m a savory man most days.” with first a clip of armand-as-rashid’s blissful expression as louis drinks from him at the dinner table in 1x05, then three clips of sweet treats: the strawberry dessert from 1x02 being set in front of daniel, daniel taking a bite of it, then young daniel sipping his grasshopper at mary’s. the clip ends with old daniel’s hand pushing his coffee cup forward, requesting a refill.

🎵 as old as time 🎵

armand stares at a painting depicting him in the louvre, eyes wide, brows slightly furrowed, head slightly turned.

🎵 as straight as a line 🎵

the recording on daniel’s laptop flatlining, him looking at armand, armand smiling warmly at him.

🎵 as royal as a queen 🎵

lestat basks in all his king raj mardi gras costume glory, he smiles widely up at the camera positioned above his head.

🎵 as buzzed as a bee 🎵

lestat on stage in 2x03, wiggling his shoulders, smiling playfully, flipping his coat tails up and bending over for the audience.

🎵 as stealth as a tiger 🎵

estelle and celeste spying on louis and claudia in paris.

🎵 smooth as a glider 🎵

armand floats up the louvre floors as louis and dreamstat take the stairs.

🎵 pure as a melody, pure as i wanna be 🎵

first, a shot of louis and paul dancing at grace’s wedding, smiling at each other. then, a close-up of paul sitting of the roof, turning to look at an off-screen louis as the screen slowly fades to black and another watermark appears. the voiceover is paul and louis’: ”i love you, louis.” ”i love you too, baby brother.”

/end video description]

[xetlynn]

Jacob Black x fem!Reader

Anything For You

Warnings:kind of angsty, cursing.

You’ve been best friends with Jacob for years, being so close with him his friends were your friends. Even Billy counted you as family. Especially due to your parents always being away for business oriented reasons, never having time for their daughter.

But as of lately Jacob has been distant, only because of an old friend back in town. Bella Swan. The girl who made your best friend ditch you for every plan you guys have made these past weeks.

Something you didn’t realize was truly bothering you until you called him one night. The one night you begged him not to miss and he did. It was the night of your concert for your school orchestra. A thing you took pride in.

When you looked in the crowd to find Embry, Quil, Seth, Paul and Billy. But no Jacob. His excuse was that he had forgotten, simple mistake.

Simple mistake that crushed you beyond belief.

It was one thing for your parents to miss your concerts, to not even come home for dinner. But Jacob doing this was a betrayal even you felt childish for being upset about.

And then today, you waited outside where he said he would meet you after dropping Bella off at home. He said that he would be there at 3 pm. As it is now reaching 5:30 you pulled out your sketch book. You talked to your school counselor who gave it to you, telling you to draw or write down how you feel.

Today you wrote, filling two pages front and back about how you miss your best friend.

Who you thought even at one point could have been more than your best friend. Thinking you guys were just reaching that point in life.

“[Name]!?” The voice made you hopeful but once it actually reached your ears you frowned slightly as it was not who you were waiting for. “Hey, Seth.” You forced a smile.

“Hey, uh Embry, Quil and I were gonna go to the beach. We noticed you’ve been sitting here a while. We wondered if you wanted to join?” His eyes looked hopeful.

The boy had a crush on you, he’s had one for a few years. Knowing who your heart belonged to he never said anything but everyone knew.

Even you.

“Uh, I guess.” You shrug, getting up from your spot.

Trying to enjoy yourself with the thoughts in the back of your mind was irritating, forcing yourself to laugh along with their jokes you actually didn’t understand.

The four of you tossed a ball to each other, Quil now had it in his hands and you sighed. Waiting until it came to you. “Hey, you alright over there?” Embry shouted with a grin on his face, not knowing you actually were not doing well.

“Oh, I’m fine!” You wave a hand to motion you were okay. Quil raised an eyebrow. “You sure it has nothing to do with Billy Blacks son?” He questions and your eyes spiked open from what he said.

“What?” Was all that could form out of your mouth.

“We’ve seen how much of a douche he’s been, [Name] we aren’t blind.” Embry tells you, not meaning to be so harsh but it just came out that way. You glance down, catching the ball from him. “I uh, didn’t know other people noticed.” You gripped the football, not wanting to make eye contact with them.

“Of course we noticed, especially when he fucking didn’t come to your concert you’ve been non stop talking about.” Quil rolls his eyes.

You laugh,

“It’s whatever, he’s happy hanging out with her. I can’t rely on him all the time.” You try to force up a lie on how you feel. “Yeah, okay. Throw the ball, princess.” Embry winks.

Taking in a breath you chucked it at Seth, not realizing how hard you threw it. And the fact that he wasn’t ready it hit him right in the face. “Oh my god!” You gasp, covering your mouth as the other two burst into laughter.

He groans, holding his nose, checking to see if it was bleeding and luckily it wasn’t. “I’m so sorry, Seth!” You run over to him. Trying not to laugh now as the others bent over holding onto each other as they can’t contain it.

“It’s okay,” he waves it off but you shake your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He says and you pull him into a hug.

“You got one hell of an arm.” Embry snickers.

“Shut up.” You mutter silently to them as you hold the younger boy.

“Im really okay, [Name].” He tells you as his face burns hotter and he grows flustered.

“That’s what’s going to give him a nosebleed.” Quil teases and the two laugh again.

“Oh leave him alone.” You tell them then look down at him and your mouth goes into the shape of an ‘o’ so you let him go. The boy clears his throat. “I’ll go get the ball now.” He announces but as he turns around Jacob was standing there handing him the football.

His face laid no expression. Your heart races from him just being near.

“Can I talk to you?” His eyes meet yours and your posture straightens. “Can it wait for later?” You nervously glance at the other guys who stand awkwardly.

“We will just go.” Embry says, grabbing Seth nod pushing him away, Quil follows. You mentally curse at them for leaving you.

“Please, just hear me out.”

“What is it Jake?” You snap, acting impatient wanting to get whatever this conversation will be to just happen.

He reluctantly pulls out your sketchbook and your eyes widen. You instantly run to your bag, digging through it to find that exact same book, not believing you actually left it back at the house.

“[Name] why didn’t you-“

“Oh don’t give me shit! I can’t believe you read through my book!” You snatch the book back, throwing it on the ground. “Why would you read it?” Your voice cracked as tears threatened to peak through. Trying to shove the feeling down.

“Hey, calm down.” He steps closer but you step back and a pained expression shoots across his face.

“Go vent to Bella about it.” You sat on the sad, picking the book back up and staring at it.

“Please.” He comes closer. “What!? Just say what you need to say. Get it over with since you obviously won’t give up.” Tears fall and you quickly wipe them away as you feel ashamed and embarrassed.

“I.. I didn’t realize I was being such an asshole.” He says, he follows every movement you make, “[Name] there are no excuses to how I have been treating you.” He falls to his knees in front of you. “No, there’s not. No excuse for going through my shit either.” You point a finger in his face, hiccuping as you cried.

“I know,” he sighs. “I don’t know why I got so excited when Bella needed me. I don’t know why I left you out and forgot your fucking concert. It was unexceptional of me.” He tries to get closer so you would look at him but you turned your head to stare at the waves of the water, gripping the book.

“You’re worth more than that. You’ve been my person- my number one for years.” He takes the book out of your hands, throwing it aside and holding your wrists. You don’t resist. You close your eyes, not wanting anymore tears to fall in front of him. “I got confused, I… I realized I need you. More than anything, more than the food I eat, the water that graces this Earth, I’d rather lose sleep that’s how much I need you. I need you near me or I can’t breathe. The distance that pulled us apart was slowly breaking me and I didn’t even know that feeling was because I wasn’t with you.” He expresses, his voice wavering throughout his words. Your body shutters as your silently sob, your lip quivering as you shivered.

The look on your face physically hurts him, his body feels like crumbling knowing that this was because of him.

“I want- need you to know I will do anything. Anything to make it up to you. To never see these tears fall from those pretty eyes unless they were happy ones.”

Your eyes follow from his hands holding tightly to your wrists, going up his torso then to his lips, and then lands on his eyes.

For the first time, the world shifted. Everything grows brighter, his touch burning but you don’t move an inch. An energy switch from wanting to hate him more than anything to just wanting him around you. Even without speaking you’d be okay.

A small noise escapes passed your lips, then you speak. “As much as I want to punch you, to tell you to go away and never speak to me again after you hurt me. I don’t truly wish for that. I want to trust every word and don’t look back.”

His eyes soften, he lets you go slowly. “Please forgive me.” He whispers, his voice trembling which breaks you. You pull him into an embrace, one hand stabilizing himself on the ground and the other wrapped around you. “[Name] there’s nothing in this world I won’t do to be yours.” He holds you closer.

“Just be here. With me.”

Then pushing him back to look at him again. “Always.”

Like magnets, force brings you two together, his lips on yours. Igniting a fire from every touch you lay on his skin.

Pulling away his fingers wipe away your tears and you grin at him. “More of that and I’ll forgive you for everything.”

He laughs, pulling you onto his lap. “Anything for you.”

[lexithwrites]

loser regulus black who just stares at the person he fancies instead of going up and talking to them, who’ll write his name with his crushes last name before scribbling it out so hard he rips the page, who talks to himself in his head saying they’ll never want him that he’s a freak and that he’s ugly, that compares himself to his brother every single day but still adores and looks up to him, who has a small friend group who are all extremely outgoing whilst he’s quietly there with them, who fiddles with his fingers when he’s nervous and bites his lip so much it crusts over or bursts when he smiles, who only wears black and has headphones on 24/7, who prefers reading and writing stories and fanfiction and drawing random swirls and shapes in his notebooks, whose studying literature and ancient history, who can’t drive so he takes the bus and thinks about how embarrassed his rich parents and their friends would be if they saw this, who can play piano and listens to classical music and loves watching live concerts with full orchestras, who gets drunk way too easily when he’s out with his friends and giggles when he meets his crush, who smiles and throws his head back with a cackle that he’d usually be embarrassed about if he was sober, who blushes when someone touches his hair or his waist, who loves vanilla matchas and caramel hot chocolates, who dreams of firm, large hands on his skin and lips at his neck and something deep inside him making him shudder, who asked his older brother and his cousins to help cut his hair and bandage his chest when he first came out, who loves his niece and nephew and likes watching them play when he babysits them for their parents date nights, who cries for hours because he feels so alone even though he’s surrounded by love now, who still misses his parents even though they were awful, who wishes the person he loved would just notice him…without knowing they always have because he’s him.

[miasmaghoul]

Miasma I am begging you to bless us with Aurora/Cirrus classical orchestra AU, my head is full of chamber ghoulettes

This is...way more than three sentences lmfao. Idk, it took on a mind of its own. Not NSFW, but probably suggestive.

Warnings for mild emotional hurt/comfort, anxiety, D/s dynamics and safe, nonsexual choking.

Aurora chews the inside of her cheek, smoothing the front of her sleek black gown with trembling hands as she observes her reflection. She's the last one in the dressing room, the rest of the orchestra already lined up in the hall waiting to file on stage, the din of excitement bleeding through the door and making her stomach twist.

There's no reason for her to be so nervous - it's not her first performance, not even close. Hell, she's not even a soloist. Just one of ten cellists, and apparently the only one with sudden onset stage fright. She sucks in a shaky breath and shakes out her arms, the fine silver bangles on her left wrist jangling. She fusses over her honey colored curls, fiddles with the simple silver pendant around her neck, adjusts her shoulder straps - anything to delay the inevitable.

The doorknob rattles, impossibly loud for what it is, and Aurora freezes as her eyes dart to its reflection in her dressing table mirror.

A slender woman steps into the dressing room, clad in a sharp white suit with her jet black hair pulled back into a tight knot. Aurora's heart flutters in a different way when Cirrus lets the door click shut behind her. The sound of her heels against the floor sets off a cascade of goosebumps, and Aurora shivers as the hair on her arms stands up.

"You aren't in the lineup," Cirrus observes, stern. It's a tone Aurora knows well, one that certainly shouldn't be as comforting as it is. She feels Cirrus' hand come to rest on her lower back and it takes all of her willpower not to lean into the body beside her. She knows better. "Why?"

Aurora takes a deep breath before meeting her gaze in the mirror. Cirrus looks incredible, her simple makeup as elegant as her suit. The white doesn't wash her out. If anything, it makes her look all the more regal. Aurhoritative. As it should, Aurora supposes - a conductor should always command attention.

Aurora's eyes trace the neckline of her blazer where it plunges south. The partially unbuttoned silk blouse beneath it revealing lovely, pale skin - and a simple silver pendant. Aurora stares at it while she touches her own necklace, the matching pair of them shimmering in the glow of the dressing table lights. She swallows, forcing a deep breath through her nose.

"I don't know," she admits, wringing her hands. "I just...I got nervous."

It comes out as little more than a shameful whisper, but she knows Cirrus hears it. Cirrus hears everything.

"About?"

A cool, steady finger reaches out to caress her arm and Aurora's attention snaps to it. Cirrus' touch is electric as ever.

"I...I don't know," she repeats, clenching her fists. "I was fine earlier, but...but as soon as I saw everyone, out there I just -"

Aurora cuts herself off with a shake of her head, gesturing at the mirror as thought it could speak for her. Cirrus offers a thoughtful hum, and Aurora glances over at her. Takes in the sharp lines of her face and imagines what she'll look like on stage, baton in hand. Moving easy as the breeze itself, guiding them all through page after page of rich, vibrant music.

"Do you need my help, little bird?"

Aurora blinks up at her - even in her own sky high heels, Cirrus towers over her slight form - as the question swirls around her anxious mind. One she's been asked so many times before, when this same feeling has taken hold of her rational mind and left her feeling woefully out of control. The meaning behind them clicks when Cirrus tilts her head, eyes tracing the rosy column of Aurora's neck, and with a deep sigh she sags against the dressing table.

"Please," she whispers, straightening up before Cirrus can demand it. She manages a deep breath as she turns, lifting her chin and exposing her throat entirely. "Please, Sir," she says, and it earns her a loving caress along an exposed clavicle.

"That's my girl," Cirrus murmurs, and without a moment's pause long, elegant fingers encircle Aurora's throat. Not squeezing - not yet - fingertips resting over her thrumming pulse. "Deep breath."

Aurora's eyes slip shut as she obeys the gentle order, sucking down air until she can't possibly hold any more. The tension threaded through her muscles starts to coalesces in her chest, a swirling mass of stress creeping closer and closer to the place Cirrus' hand holds her. She savors her exhale as she reaches for Cirrus' arm, her own fingers trembling as the grabs hold, a little contact needed to ground herself for what's to come. Cirrus reaches up to cup her cheek, and Aurora looks up at her with wide eyes and parted lips.

"Do you need me?"

Aurora nods, gripping Cirrus's sleeve tighter. The other woman leans down and kisses her cheek, and finally, finally, her hand start to tighten. Slowly, though. Cirrus always starts slow - she adores the way Aurora's eyes slide put of focus far too much to rush. Fingertips press into her arteries and Aurora's knees wobble, that spiral of anxiety caught in her chest already starting to fade to distant static.

"Do you trust me?"

Another nod, more fervent - she doesn't trust anyone as much than she trusts Cirrus. The scent of her perfume clings in Aurora's nose, jasmine on a warm summer night, and more of her panic dissipates. Cirrus kisses Aurora's other cheek, breath warm against her soft skin, and her grip tightens even more. Aurora's vision begins to blur just as Cirrus pulls back - not far, but enough to look her in the eye.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes," Aurora gasps, a squeak more than anything else, but it's all she needs. The hand on her throat squeezes, building pressure in her head chasing away the last dregs of the fear that had gripped her moments ago.

Cirrus kisses her then, closed mouthed but still devastating. It steals what little air remains in her lungs, a rush of air through her nose, and as her pulse pounds in her ears it drowns out anything that isn't Cirrus. Her eyes fall closed, and just as she starts to go limp -

"Now fly."

Cirrus' hand vanishes, blood rushes to her head in a flood of endorphin-induced ecstacy, and Aurora collapses against her while she gulps down breath after breath. The room spins when she opens her eyes, but it doesn't matter - all that matters is the way Cirrus' arms feel wrapped around her oxygen deprived body. One hand rubs her back, cool against the skin exposed by her gown, and Aurora focuses on that soothing motion while her world rights itself.

"You did beautifully," Cirrus coos, stroking her hair without mussing her perfectly bouncy curls. Aurora sighs, a deeply pleased sound. "How are you feeling now, little bird?"

"Better," Aurora murmurs, feeling much looser than she had a few minutes ago. The icy flood of anxiety permeating her system is long gone, replaced with a pleasant lightness that makes her lips curl at the corners She wraps her arms around Cirrus' waist, giving her a squeeze before she steps back to smile up at the other woman. "Thank you for finding me," she breathes, nuzzling into Cirrus' hand when she hold her cheek again.

"I'll always find you, Ro," Cirrus replies, leaning down to kiss her forehead, and Aurora beams up at her. "Now," she says, pulling back to straighten her blazer, "shall we?"

Cirrus gestures at the door to the hall, and the butterflies in Aurora's stomach this time around are ones of pure excitement. She nods and gathers her booklet of sheet music, checking her makeup one just time before she leaves. It's still perfect, of course. Cirrus would never mar it - well, not on a night like this at least.

When she turns Aurora finds Cirrus holding out her hand, and she gladly takes it. Together they walk into the hall, and as Aurora joins her section Cirrus kisses the back of her hand.

They file on stage, she sees Cirrus standing tall on her podium, and Aurora knows this will be her best performance yet.

[dirtytransmasc]

Modern Aocorro high school au: what if Spider was a harpist in his high school orchestra and Ao'nung was down bad about it.

Spider was already your classic high school heart throb. He was popular, buff, handsome, a little rough around the edges, yet still a total sweetheart.

For Eywa's sake, he carpooled his siblings to school or rode his skateboard to school, volunteered around town 24/7, used reusable straws, he'd hand his pocket change to anyone in need, and was known for getting into fights with bullies in the parking lot.

Not to mention that he had the prettiest golden curls and brown eyes anyone had ever seen (at least in Ao'nung's opinion).

So to say Ao'nung was crushing, hard, was probably the understatement of the century, and could you even blame him? The guy was perfect, an angel, and it was driving him insane.

He'd catch himself staring during gym practice, marveling at his muscles, cheeks flushing, or in the locker room when he took his shirt off to change, his heart pounding away in his chest.

he thought he couldn't be even more down bad for that boy than he already was, his confident personality rendered null and void when he was around, his tongue caught in the back of his throat, unable to do so much as squeak at him… until the day he caught him in the orchestra room, practicing.

Now, he had heard Spider was in orchestra and had even seen him rolling around some large black case around the school before, but he'd never actually caught what he played.

But walking past that half-opened door was how he found out the love of his life wasn't only a sweet handsome hunk of a guy, but he played the harp, the instrument of an angel.

The sheer audacity of this boy was getting out of hand, he swore to Eywa, he was gonna kill him one of these days with his impossibly hot antics.

He stands and watches as Spider presses up against his harp, eyes focused on his sheet music, hair tied up in a messy bun but a single golden curl hangs he keeps blowing out of his face, and his fingers strum along the strings, working the muscles throughout his hands and arms.

The sound of gentle music flowed from the gap in the door, and it sounded just as pretty as Spider looked, soft and sweet, but still robust, still full of base and bravado. It was so fitting.

Watching Spider's face quirk with focus and frustration and pride as he worked through the song made the other's heart swoon, he swore it must be palpating or maybe skipping beats. He just knows it wasn't beating right, especially as he rubs his hand over his chest and feels how heavy it beats against his ribs.

And thats when Spider just so happens to turn to see who was gawking at him from the hallway, and instead of telling him to stop staring or throwing a pissed-off glance like Ao'nung is sure most other's would do if they caught someone staring like he had been, Spider just smiled.

"Like what you hear?" he quipped, leaning forward to turn the page of his music binder.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, you're... amazing," he choked out an answer, coughing into his fist to try and cover up the stammer in his voice and the blush on his cheeks.

"You flatter me," he replied, sitting back and looking Ao'nung right in the eye before he looked away with an even brighter smile, and it was like his skin was set on fire by just that single glance. "Are you gonna come in or are you gonna keep standing out their like some weirdo?"

"Oh, I-I wouldn't want to bother, I was j-just passing by,"

"It's free period, it's why I'm in here all by my lonesome," he puts on a fake pout and bats his lashes in his direction for show, "keep my company yeah? I'm sure you've got nothing to do if you've already spent so much time staring."

He moved his bag off the chair next to him before patting it.

"Sit," his tone was warm and inviting and his eyes were soft and almost pleading, so he did, with a deep breath, he sat next to the other boy.

He managed to be even prettier up close, and Ao'nung had to tear his eyes away so he didn't make a fool of himself. He decided to turn his attention to the harp. It was beautiful, made of a soft, warm-toned wood, intricately carved and painted with the image of flowers he couldn't name off the top of his head.

"She's a beauty isn't she?" Spider asked

he only nodded at first, before feeling the urge to touch, his hand moving before he could think better of it, but he managed to stop himself before he made contact with he wood.

"Can I?" he asked, quite pitifully, finally making his own eye contact with the blonde. Eywa save him, he was too pretty, it was unfair. He felt butterflies tickling his stomach and his head getting fuzzy. Why didn't he run when he had the chance?

"Go ahead," he answered with a huff of laughter.

He tried to steady himself as he stroked a hand down the curved wood that he saw resting against Spider's chest earlier when he was playing, feeling the warmth from the other boy's skin still clinging to the wood.

His fingers sought out the strings Spider's rested on moments ago, the metal threading bit into his flesh ever so slightly when he ran his fingers down them.

"I catch you staring all the time y'know, you're not very good at hiding it."

Ao'nung feels his heart drop through the floor and into the stone-cold basement beneath them. Fuck. He fucked up, he fucked up so bad, Spider must think he's a freak-

"It's cute."

"What?" he didn't mean to ask that out loud, but when he did, he said it far too loud.

Spider just laughs at him, gently and without malice, his eyes crinkling into almost nothing, his cheeks going a little red, his nose scrunching a little. Ao'nung feels his heart swell.

"Oh, it's never subtle, especially since you turn bright red, and the second you realize I'm looking back, you turn tail and run away like you have the devil on your heels," he pauses to wipe the tears from his eyes, "It's just cute, adorable even. I kinda like having a not so secret admirer."

"You don't think I'm some total freak?"

"Nah dude.... who's to say I'm not staring back?" he said nonchalantly.

Ao'nung was sure his brain was melting, cause he just found out his crush might like him back? Potentially. And that was just simply mind-boggling, cause, he wasn't gonna sell himself short, but he never thought he could be on Spider's radar.

They hung out with different people, and he used to be an ass to his siblings before he transferred to be here, and sure he apologized and made up with them, he always seemed to hold a bit of a grudge.

"You are?" he had to ask.

"Mmmmmm, maybe a little," he replied with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "I will admit, at first it was because I was trying to make sure you weren't being an ass, but, things might be changing."

Ao'nung nodded to himself, clearing his throat, trying to decipher what that could even mean. Was Spider saying he was starting to like him too? did he have a shot with him?

"Listen, the bells about to ring, so why don't I give you this," he pulled a pen from the spine of his binder, tearing the corner off of one of his sheet music, which felt oddly intimate, and wrote something down on it, before handing it to him.

It was his number. Spider just gave him his number.

"Text me? we can start gettign to actually know each other, and maybe you could start joining me in here during free period, I could give you some lessons on the harp if you'd like?" now Spider sounded a little sheepish.

Which somehow made Ao'nung feel a bit more confident, so for the first time in seemingly forever, he answered Spider with some level of confidence.

"Yeah, I'd like that, I'd like that a lot."

"Good, good, I'd like that too."

They were both smiling now. The bell rang. They both hesitated to break eye contact.

"I'll text you, promise." Eywa, he was making promises. Already. He really was a hopeless sap. But it felt right when Spider huffed a laugh at it, a hand coming up to cover his smile a little. He was flattered.

"You better, stalker," Spider laughed, finally starting to pack up his stuff.

"Rude," he faked a gasped, lingering in the door, knowing he had to get to class, and he needed to let Spider pack up so he wouldn't be late himself, but wanting to let the moment last just a little longer.

"I think staring is rude, but I think I'll give you a pass, so long as you stop running away when I catch you, deal?"

"Deal."

"And you have to meet me here tomorrow."

"I will, it's a date," the words slipped out of his mouth without thinking about how it could be interpreted, "oh, not like-"

"It's a date" Spider repeated.

Ao'nung found he could only nod. It's a date. Even if it wasn't like that, it was still nice to think about. a date with an angel.

"Now go, before you're late, wouldn't want you to get in any trouble." Spider crossed his arms and jutted out his hip like he was some disappointed mom or something.

"Right, bye Spider."

He waved goodbye. It was corny and childish, but he waved. Spider waved back. He had his number clutched tightly in his other palm. Spider had his phone clutched in his hands as if he couldn't wait for the message to come any longer.

"Bye Stalker."

He has a feeling he's gonna have to get used to that nickname, but as he rounds the corner, his chest still feeling warm and full of butterflies, he doesn't think he minds all that much.

[gbearyacorn]

Black Coffee 🔞

Chapter 16: The Show Must Go- Oh Fuck You! This Show Ain’t Gotta Do Shit! 🔞

Summary: The finale has arrived. Raise the curtain and cue the orchestra!

(This boy is a monster chapter: over 14k words adding to 29 pages. I can’t express how nice it feels to actually finish something!)

“And so I told Rita that Georgie had never tried a blowjob before, and she plops one right in her lap for him! You should’a seen the look on his face! It was positively adorable!”

“Mistress!” George pouted and whined cutely as you laughed with Flora and Angel. The six of you had been enjoying your time as “camp cooks” over the past week and a half, your submissive clients easily falling for Angel and his cheeky attitude.

“He took it like a champ though! Only had a little whipped cream left on his cheek,” you praised as your chuckles died down, booping the cannibal’s nose as he blushed. Angel smirked and ruffled the man’s hair before washing his hands and heading to the meat locker.

The dimensional freezer was separated into three sections: the largest holding Rosie’s sinner meat for the residents of Cannibal Town, the second largest housing “normal” meat for the hotel residents, and a third smaller area for Alastor’s personal collection. You felt rather spoiled, as he had procured some more of his father’s flesh and bones when you had mentioned dreaming about that creamy marrow. You had such a thoughtful mate.

“Angie, can you grab an extra boar while you’re in there?” Sarah called out as she worked on butchering the pig in front of her. You heard Angel grunt in confirmation before he disappeared inside the locker.

Cooking together had become seamless after the first couple of days, Angel helping to break the ice with his jokes and flair. The sweet little spider was really starting to open up and come out of his shell, and you couldn’t be more pleased. He actually seemed to be hitting it off with Gabriel after the cannibal mentioned he cleaned pools for one of his doms.

Out of all your clients, Gabe was the thirstiest, and Angel ate it up. The cannibal had even offered to clean anything Angel wanted, as his favorite kink was housekeeping in a cute little spandex maid outfit. You had to admit, he pulled it off flawlessly too. You had wondered if maybe Angel might go after Husk, but he’d looked away when you asked, saying he wouldn’t want to ruin their friendship. Which was completely understandable- he definitely needed friends more than anything- supportive friends.

Pointing a stool into existence next to your work station, you sat down and began peeling the potatoes you’d washed. Tonight’s dinner would be suidae sinner, paired with a grimberry sauce, garlic mashed potatoes, cornbread and pickled pinkie fingers. All of the ovens would be working their hardest, but thankfully your team was more than up to task.

After only half an hour the kitchen was smelling like pure heaven, and you excused yourself for a break, leaving your shade to watch your station. Walking through the kitchen door, you padded down the hall to find Alastor.

“Darling, are you around?” Poking your head in his office, you didn’t see him, but as you turned around you were met with his broad chest. Craning your neck, you smiled up at your mate. “There he is- my magic man!” With a flourish of your hand, you stepped back and bowed. You heard him chuckle at your antics before a claw tucked under your chin to raise your head for a kiss.

Alastor was apparently feeling some type of way, pushing you back into his office and against the door once closed. “Well,” kiss, “this is,” another series of dragging kisses before he bit your bottom lip and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “Mmm, unexpected.” Your back slid against the wood as he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Very nice unexpected, though,” you finished, groaning as his lips traveled down your jaw to your throat.

“I’ve missed you, mon cœur…” came his soft reply as he nuzzled his nose at your throat, breathing you in. “We’ve both been far too busy for my tastes.” His hands ran up your sides as your legs tightened around him. Sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder, eliciting a small cry of passion as you rubbed yourself against his stomach. How you craved for your darling mate to take you right there, against his office door where anyone walking by could hear him staking his claim.

“Would you like to come over tonight? I’m finishing up my potion work, so I’ll be free at night from now on.” Your words seemed to please him, the soft fizzle of radio static filled the air around you. “Would you want to stay with me? Until Extermination Day… I wish to spend every free minute I have with my charming little mate, if she wouldn’t be opposed.”

Your heart swelled. You’d never tire of hearing Alastor tell you he wanted you near. You certainly enjoyed having your own space, but spending time with him was the highlight of any day. “I suppose I could be persuaded, if the incentive is enticing enough,” you purred, pressing your nose to his in affection.

Alastor chuckled at that, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, and you pet his hair. “I believe I can think of a few things to entertain you, ma chér,” he breathed against your chest, his tongue gliding lightly along your clavicle. You moaned and wriggled against him, arching your back at the sensation.

You felt more than heard Alastor growl, before a knock came at the door. “Hey, boss! Charlie was wanting to go over some stuff before combat training.”

Alastor sighed against your chest and set you down gently, before calming himself to open the door with a chipper smile. “Husker, my good man! Inform dear Charlie I’ll be there in but a moment,” he curtly dismissed the other man, shutting the door before he could protest.

“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” you said, laughing at the dejected knit of his brow and reached to rub small circles at the crease. Alastor sighed in resignation, taking your hand to kiss the knuckles. “I suppose I’ll see you at dinner?”

Your smile went watery at the gesture, tail wagging happily. “You will. And you can just shadow over whenever you’re done for the day. I have a surprise for you,” you said, pulling his hand close to kiss the palm.

Alastor’s ears drooped, eyes glowing and smile softening as a small bleat escaped. You knew that look- he wanted nothing more than to hug you close and cuddle until existence faded and time ended. You wanted the exact same.

Stepping close, you wrapped your arms around his torso, rubbing your face against his coat. “I can’t wait to hold you again, my love,” you sighed out. You felt his arms wrap around you as he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll see you tonight, mon cœur,” you heard him say, before his shadows stole him away. With a heavy sigh, you walked back to finish up dinner.

——-///////————/////////————-///////———

The day had been busy and exhausting once again, and you’d been unable to see Alastor at dinner- the poor man was kept very busy himself with all the extra guests. As you made your way home, you felt a tinge of a familiar aura the closer you got. Uh oh… You knew that aura very well, and it did not feel happy. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself with a pleasant smile.

“Darling! How have you been doi-“

Your body went flying from the punch that met your face. Well, you deserved that one. Rising from the bushes you’d flown into, you dusted yourself off and tried to speak before Velvette was on you again. You dodged as best you could, trying to get as many apologies out as her fists and feet would allow. The doll demon was almost as fast as you on a good day, and today she was furious.

“Extermination anxiety, was it?”

Her demonic tenor rumbled through your chest as you ducked a swinging leg, yelping when caught by her heel as it swung back around.

“Well, if it helps, I am anxious about extermination,” you gave a small chuckle, doing your best to appease your angry friend. You received another punch for your effort, your tail curling as you sailed through the air. Landing roughly on a hip, you were grateful for the extra cushioning- otherwise that could have been much more painful.

“Were you just gonna let me find out on Sinstagram about my best friend gettin’ killed? over her stupid boy toy?! I knew you were a horny bitch, but who joins a war over a little DICK?! What the fuck are you thinking, Y/N?! How stupid can you be?! How am

I supposed to handle that?” Velvette’s voice lowered as angry tears poured from her eyes.

Rising slowly from the grass you’d landed in, you crept towards the angry overlord cautiously. “Well, I was more hoping not to die, but I’m sorry for not telling you, Vel. It wasn’t something I was at liberty to talk about at the time. But Vel, I’m not just doing this for Alastor- I believe in Princess Morningstar. While the very idea of redemption is completely absurd to me, I believe she can make a better Hell. I’m fighting for her- for a better future, where we won’t have to worry about exterminations anymore. Isn’t that worth fighting for?”

You were trying your best not to cry with Velvette- you could never handle seeing your loved ones crying very well. You were an arms length away when the doll rushed into your arms and crushed you in her embrace. “I could spit, I’m so mad at you!” Velvette sobbed into your neck and you cooed, wrapping your arms around her and kissing her forehead. A grunt and hiss left your lips when she gave one last halfhearted punch to your tit, right in the nipple- she did know how to hit a woman where it hurts.

“I love you Vel,” you said, rubbing your nose against her cheek. The other demon deflated and hugged you back, her slight weight falling into you.

Bending down, you picked your friend up bridal style and carried her the rest of the way to your home. You’d had to point the door open, refusing to let Velvette go in her state, before bringing her up the narrow staircase and into your bathroom to clean up. You were the dirtier party, of course- your darling doll never pulled her punches.

Pointing to your shower, it transformed into your large tub and filled itself. You chose to add a bit of lavender and eucalyptus before adding blood bubbles- a favorite of Velvette’s from Snatch and Bawdy Works. The other demon didn’t move from your arms once, her face cradled in your neck.

“Hey, little Miss, let’s get us cleaned up and pretty again, and then we can make some popcorn and cuddle up to a movie. What do ya say?” Your offer made the demon in your arms chuckle and tighten her hold around your neck.

“Sometimes I wish I was gay, cause you really are the best girlfriend,” she said, kissing your cheek before moving herself out of your hold. You laughed at her comment. “Darling, even if you were gay, you’re not really my type, and I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be yours.”

Velvette grinned at that, giving a soft punch to your arm as she zapped out of her clothes and got in the tub, a contented sigh leaving her lips. You brushed the debris from your hair before zapping yourself out of your clothes to join Velvette.

You both soaked for a while, letting your muscles and wounds rest and heal from the short fight. Fight really wouldn’t be an accurate description- utter ass kicking is more like it.

“You really think Princess Sunshine and Rainbows has a shot at winning this?” Velvette’s voice was soft, almost childlike in her vulnerability. You looked her in the eye, hoping to convey what little confidence you had. “I do. She has the entirety of Cannibal town behind her, and with the weapons she’s procured, I have reason to believe it will be quite a sound victory.”

Velvette regarded you, searching for any sign of falsehood, before sighing. She rose to get out of the tub while you dipped your head under the water to rinse out your conditioner.

You were wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel when Velvette walked back in, carrying a package that was about a third of the size of her, and set it down on your vanity bench. “If you’re going to throw yourself into a war, you’re gonna be dressed for it,” she said, her lips turning up in a wicked grin.

Your ears pricked and tail wagged in interest as you walked to open your gift. Sitting on top of a deep purple material was a pair of sharp, pointed metal ballet slippers- your eyes flew up to look at Velvette’s grinning face. “Is this…”

“Angelic steel battle shoes, courtesy of the weapons queen herself. I had to apologize to the old windbag for a little misunderstanding to get the design and steel, but now we’re almost friendly- which is good for business at least.” Velvette pulled out the purple fabric- a full bodysuit with short sleeves, draping it over your vanity to reach for what was underneath. “This,” she pulled out a black under-bust corset with thick shoulder straps and an inverted pentagram across the chest. “Is your new best friend. Dragon leather for flexibility, the pentagram is spelled to keep the twins in place, and this,” she ran her hand over the shining silver tiles that made up the hourglass front panel, “is angelic kevlar. Designed it myself,” she said proudly.

You couldn’t help the tears that fell at your friend’s thoughtfulness. “Oh Vel, this is just… It’s beautiful, sweetie! Thank you so much,” you said, wrapping her in your arms and rubbing your cheek against hers in affection. The doll demon laughed and hugged you back, rubbing at an ear and earning a happy yelp with wagging tail.

“Let’s try it on to make sure everything is right. I might need to adjust the spell on the shoes. I know I’ve put you in some crazy shit before, but these bad boys look like hell on heels,” Velvette said, chuckling a bit at your excited face.

It had been a few years since you’d danced any ballet, and it took a moment to regain your posture. You stumbled a couple of times from the sheer weight of the weapons, but as the metal clanked against the wood of your floor, you gained confidence. The battle suit made you feel powerful. Absolutely lethal and unbelievably sexy.

You danced and spun around Velvette as she laughed at your antics. “I’m not gonna lie, I can see why Carmilla wears these all the time. I feel like a tall goddess in these things!” With one last twirl, you leaned over and kissed Velvette’s cheek, throwing your arms around her in a warm embrace. She laughed and kissed your hair before resting her forehead on yours, her eyes soft.

“I love you, you weird, antiquated, masochistic puppy dog. I don’t want to lose you,” she spoke quietly.

Ears drooping and tail wagging, you nuzzled your cheek against hers. “I feel so spoiled, my sweet Velvette! Clothes, cuddles, and an ‘I love you’? I should go off to battle more often,” you teased.

Velvette let out an annoyed huff, her eyes looking away as a light blush dusted her cheeks. “Yeah, well don’t go getting yourself killed. I swear on Satan’s abs, if you die I’ll find a way to bring you back and kick your ass.”

You couldn’t help the laughter that spilled forth at that, leaning on your friend to keep yourself upright in your new weapons. “Well, if it’s on Satan’s abs, I know you mean business.” Your chuckles died down and you zapped yourself out of your battle outfit and into a loose lavender nightie that fell just below the thigh.

Settling onto the bed, the two of you flipped through channels in search of something good to watch. Velvette perked up and gestured for you to scroll down.

““Ghostfuckers: The Musical!”” You both squealed together, and the night was decided.

——-//////———-////////////————————-//////////

When saying goodnight, Velvette gave you one last tight hug, reminding you of her promise to kick your ass if you got yourself killed, before kissing your cheek and walking away. You watched her disappear in the distance, leaning on the dilapidated doorframe with a sentimental sigh. That demon liked to act like tough shit, but when she gave her rare love, it was given completely.

You walked up the stairs and through the bedroom to open your realm of darkness- it was turning out to be quite a long day. But it was worth it.

Your potions were almost complete; all that was left was to add your venom. Your shade pulled away from you, your favorite blade in their hand, and you lifted your nightie for them. A scream tore from your throat as your shade cut a one inch thick strip of flesh from your rump- you would need fresh flesh in order to milk your fangs properly, and what better flesh to use than your own?

Panting and purring, you took your meat from your shade with grateful thanks, receiving an amorous chirp and nuzzling before they zoomed off to play and gossip with your little darklings. You weren’t entirely sure if they understood what your shadow said to them, but they enjoyed being around their matriarch nonetheless.

You felt your mate shadowing in to your abode, and paused your work to greet him. Your shade zoomed out as you closed your realm, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at their eagerness. If someone had told you not a year ago that you’d be excitedly greeting a mate (the radio demon no less), and your shade would be on board, you’d laugh in their face and run away as fast as you could.

“Good evening, my darling! Are you hungry?” You asked as you moved to walk down your stairs.

You were caught by surprise when Alastor bellowed his mating call and shadowed up to kiss you, his body pushing you into the wall beside you. His hands roamed and squeezed at any fat they found, his cock pressing into your stomach.

“Oh I hunger, my Vixen, but my appetite is for a different delicacy at the moment,” he growled and nipped at your ear, his hands still roaming- seeking.

You yelped when his claws found your fresh wound, and his smile grew sinister. “Why are you bleeding, mon cœur?” He hunched to lick along your jawline and you moaned low, thighs clenching against the slick pooling in your underwear.

“Ahh… there’s that sweet spice,” Alastor sighed, practically purring as he nuzzled against your throat.

“Mmm… Just a bit of flesh to help with my work. Did my darling miss his mate?” You cooed at your lover’s display and raised a leg to rub along his frame. His hand caught your thigh, and static filled the air around you as he lowered himself to his knees, his glowing eyes never leaving yours.

“Allow me to demonstrate just how much, my demoness?”

Oh how badly you wanted to let him, but alas.

“Fuck… I very much want you to continue, my love, but I’m in the midst of finishing my potions.”

A screech left your throat as your mate bit into your thigh, taking a chunk of meat with a groan. His eyes closed and he sighed as he chewed, leaning his head beside the wound. He planted a soft kiss to it before running his nose up your thigh and over your soaked panties, taking in the scent of your arousal with a low growl of static. Oh how evil this demon could be… Or perhaps it was you being the cruel one. Well, in all truth, you were both true demons.

“Do you happen to have any venison in the fridge? I am actually rather famished,” Alastor said, chuckling as he released you and stood to give you a gentle, grateful kiss. How you loved to see and taste your blood on his lips; how badly you wanted to spirit him away, surprise him with his new little bayou and keep him trapped forever.

“I do. There’s plenty, and I also brought home some leftover cornbread if you like.” Alastor’s face lit up (you’d have to remember that recipe) and he kissed you once more before heading downstairs.

With a contented hum, you went back to your work, opening your realm and settling your shadows from the disturbance. Your shade must have joined Alastor and his own- your violent little darlings missed them, swirling around you and sniffing. Thankfully only two kept growling at Alastor’s scent- they’d learn to accept him (eventually). You wondered idly if they would get along with his shadow any easier if yours helped introduce them.

Gathering your thoughts, you built up your venom- using all those moments of desire for a death. The death of the one at the end of your fangs. It took several minutes of concentration, and when finally you felt you had the right sensation, you bent over the bowl on the workbench, bringing your cooling flesh to your lips, and sank your fangs into the thin layer. There. It was an odd sensation- almost like a condom during intercourse. You spent several doses of venom, pushing for more, but yielding nothing more.

After pulling your fangs from the spent flesh, you checked the amount of liquid gathered. You may need to try again later- it may not be quite enough, but you would deal with that if you needed to.

You went to work processing the venom, spending a bit too much magick as you infused it with each poultice, salve and potion. Thank Satan you had enough for everything; you weren’t sure you had enough energy to do any more.

Your little darlings went to work packing up everything and you thanked them for their effort before heading to your bedroom.

Alastor was already sitting up on the extended mattress, legs stretched out as he read a book. You felt so warm and content when you saw this domestic side of your mate. He was home.

He looked up when you finished sealing your realm and walked over to flop onto the bed with a tired huff. Chuckling, he carded his claws through your hair in a slow and gentle rhythm as soft jazz filled the air.

“Come here, mon cœur,” you heard him say as he pulled the blankets back, laying himself down, and you crawled lazily under them. Curling and wriggling into his side, you gave a contented purr. As you drifted into sleep, he dragged his claws through your hair and rested his chin between your ears. You felt so safe and warm; you never wanted to lose this- lose him.

Your dreams were filled with music, dancing and blood rain. When you woke, you felt much better- milking your venom and potion infusion took a lot of energy out of you, but your recovery was much like recovery from injury; it would heal within a couple of hours. You were surprised to be waking so early after such a long day though.

“How are you feeling, mon cœur?” Alastor’s soft voice caught your attention, his fingers combing through your hair. You were so incredibly comfortable.

“Mmm… very happy to wake up to such a sweet face. Did you sleep at all?” You leaned in to brush your lips against his, and he groaned as he pulled you closer.

“I don’t require regular sleep cycles, but resting with my beautiful mate in my arms is incredibly energizing,” he said, brushing the back of his fingers along the side of your face.

Leaning in to his touch, you gently nipped at his fingers, and static buzzed around you. Alastor’s eyes glowed down at you as his smile quirked. “You know exactly what you do to me, don’t you, my little Vixen,” he purred, pushing his hips into yours to let you know just how you were making him feel.

Your predators eyes flashed up to his, and you made a show of sticking your tongue out to glide its way up and off a finger. “You’re not the only one able to read people, my darling, deadly overlord,” you replied, a wicked grin streaking across your face.

Alastor’s eyes began to bleed into black, and your grin grew wider. “I believe I remember someone saying he was hungry, and this chef has her oven all warmed up,” you spoke low, running your foot over his leg to hook your thigh over his hip.

With a low growl, your lover wrapped his arms around you to squeeze your ass and pull you against his rigid erection. “I want to tear into you and breed you until all you can say is my name.”

His words had you whining and wriggling against him, rubbing your soaked pussy along his length. Your panties were drenched, the fabric rubbing against your clit felt just delightful. Judging from the low growling moans your mate was producing, and the way he rolled his hips into you, he was enjoying himself as well.

A tentacle slid from behind him to glide up your leg, and Alastor used a claw to carefully slice down the center of your panties before you felt the limb rub up the length of your slit. The moan that poured from your throat would have won you an award if you’d been filming. Satan, he knew exactly what to do to make you lose control. Your body was blissfully alight, sparking with pleasure.

“Would you like me to use this on you, my little Vixen?”

His voice was deep, almost demonic as he opened his drooling maw and bit a chunk of meat from your bicep, a lascivious moan leaving his throat as he chewed.

You screeched and bucked your hips; the mixture of pain, pleasure and love had your head reeling in infernal ecstasy!

“Fuck… Yes Ala- haaah!” Your words were cut short as the tentacle slithered its way into your cunt, the texture odd but incredibly stimulating. Oh, how this demon set your very soul ablaze!

“Say my name, Y/N… Let me hear that sweet voice of yours,”

came the demonic tenor. Alastor drug his long tongue along your shoulder and up your neck as he fucked you with his tentacle, slowly widening the girth of the appendage until you were screaming for him. His deft fingers slid over, around and against your clit as your hips rolled into his limbs.

“Alastor… Alastor Alastor Aaahh! Darling, I want to- Please, my buck… Please pleasepleaseplease- hah!” Your mind was reeling in ecstasy- you couldn’t think straight even if you wanted to. You were so close!

You felt the tentacle leave you, and you cried out in frustration, your claws raking down your cruel mate’s arms as desperation filled you. Tears pricked in your eyes, and Alastor cooed down at you. He seemed to be really enjoying himself, his eyes deep black pits, smile wide and sinister as black blood dripped down his lips.

He ripped your nightgown down the middle and you felt him line himself up before his teeth clamped down on your throat as he thrust forcefully into your wet, pulsing heat. You screamed as he took you, that delicious burning stretch his cock provided sent you whirling over the edge. Squirting over him, your back arched as you spasmed around him, and he gave a distorted, rumbling snarl into your throat as he pounded relentlessly into you.

Your body went limp as he moved within you, your overstimulated cries fueling the speed of his hips.

“My sweet little Vixen…”

Hips stuttering, he licked at the wound on your throat before rising to look down at your flushed face.

One hand gripped your shoulder, the other pressing flat over your womb- holding your twitching body in place as he slowed his pace with powerful, controlled thrusts. Vaguely you felt glad he held you so, otherwise your head would be half way through the headboard by now. Your mind began coming back to blissful reality and you moaned out your lover’s name- that wonderful pressure was building again.

Unable to move your torso, you circled and ground your hips as best you could to eagerly meet his thrusts. Alastor leaned to cover you as he bottomed out, grinding into you and roaring in pleasure as his seed spurt, molten hot within you. Your mouth fell open from all the sensations coursing through your being, your hips wriggling to try and gain just a little more friction- just a bit more... Almost…

You both growled and whined all at once, your cunt pulsing and clenching in a final orgasm as you bit into Alastor’s shoulder. Your entire body curled and clenched around his, your claws piercing into his back as you pulled him as close as possible.

Sighing moans slid from your throat as you released your fangs, purring and nuzzling into his neck as he held your body against his.

“I had a surprise all planned out to reveal, but I suppose it’s better late than never,” you chuckled out lightly against his skin, breathing in his heady scent as you both worked to catch your breath.

“I had rather thought this was the surprise,” came the sly reply. “There’s no welcome quite like your lovely mate walking down the stairs in her negligee, the enticing scent of her blood on the air. Oh, and how cruel she was to make me wait. Truly a challenging game of testing one’s self control! Why, you have given me the greatest of erotic surprises, ma chér,” he purred, peppering sweet kisses along the marks on your heated flesh.

You laughed at that, cupping a soft ear in your hand to bring to your lips in a gentle kiss. “My darling, if you thought I was just gonna surprise you with a sexy outfit, well… yeah, actually, you’d be right there, but this was just a throw on for some girl time with Vel earlier. I had something a bit more to your tastes arranged. In fact, if you’re feeling up to moving, we still have time for what I had hoped to enjoy with you.” You finished your proposal with a rubbing of noses. “If you’d rather rest, it will keep.”

Alastor’s eyes grew excited, his smile turning almost boyish in his anticipation. “Surprise, please!” He exclaimed, nibbling at your cheek in affection, and you giggled at the adorable display. “But that being said, you could wear a paper bag and it would be the loveliest outfit- because it was draped over this lovely flesh.” He leaned up to nip at an ear as his claws ran down your arm and you gave a yelp, blushing in joy.

Rising from the huge bed, you draped your sheer black dressing gown around yourself and grabbed the new red silk robe you’d gotten for him. His ears pricked when you held it up for him to curl into, kissing your cheek in gratitude before brushing his lips against yours. You hummed into the kiss before grabbing a large hand, leading him through the bathroom to a green drawn door on the wall behind your shower.

His lovely crimson eyes widened in glee. As you went over how to use the hidden realm door, he listened attentively and when you held your hand out to show him the correct flow of energy, he held his out to mirror the action, and your energies mingled. The feel of your demonic tendrils intertwining, dancing with and around each other was one of the most beautiful sensations you’d been lucky enough to experience. Your heart swelled with love- while you were certain you could live without this demon beside and around you, you never wanted to have to. You’d never felt so wanted- so loved and safe. You wanted to stay like that forever, your mate holding you in one arm as your energy swirled together. It just felt so… intimate…

When Alastor successfully unlocked the realm door, a whooping cheering crowd sounded, and you laughed at just how cute such a dangerous demon could be. The door popped and creaked open for him to walk curiously through. “I’ll be through in a moment, my darling,” you spoke, running your fingers over his back through the fine silk of his robe. You noticed him hesitate a moment, before devious understanding flashed in his heated gaze, and he nodded before walking through.

You took a moment to straighten yourself up and zap on the cute new corset set you’d bought down in Lust awhile back, making sure to keep your mate’s seed right where he’d left it. It was perfect for your darling demon! Crimson and coral pinstripes formed a gorgeous silhouette, little black bows with coral gems gradually grew in size up the center seam, leading to the largest bow at the center of the sweetheart top. Black panties and coral garter accents attached to your sheer black stockings- thin black strips down the back of your legs accentuated the tall black stilettos. You thought the shoes were fucking adorable- they had little red hoof prints on the bottom! The whole ensemble just screamed, ‘This dame belongs to the Radio Demon.’

Pulling your sheer dressing gown over your outfit, you zapped your hair back to only semi bedraggled- a little bed head goes a long way! Knocking gently on the door before walking in, your heart melted when you saw Alastor laying in the simulated moonlight, eyes closed as he rested. You noticed his ears flicking in your direction and his eyes opened to take you in.

Rising to sit up, his eyes glowed as he held his hand out to beckon you to him, and you obeyed with a soft, warm smile. You stepped in front of him, your fluffy tail swishing as you let the dressing gown slide slowly off your form.

You heard his breath hitch as he took in every inch of your body, lingering on the wetness between your thighs and swallowing hard when your eyes met, his ears drooping cutely. “Oh, mon cœur…” his face was beet red, but he reached out, and you stepped close to him- close enough for those sharp claws to drag over the coral garter fasteners.

“I must admit I was wrong, mon cœur. This is most definitely a superior surprise… All of this; the bayou, the fireflies, the moonlight…” His hands reached for your hips and pulled you down to straddle his lap. Those lovely eyes shone with romance as he leaned in, just begging for those soft lips to be captured. Who were you to deny such a sweet face?

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt his hands brush your hair behind a shoulder, fingers lightly tracing down the exposed skin of your back. His lips captured yours and your aura flared in a call to his, and he responded with a contented sigh. His aura flared around you and wrapped you in his very essence, and you felt your shade split from you to dance off with his own. ‘My sweet mate…’ Your thoughts were of nothing but him- his eyes, his nose, those soft lips and sharp teeth. The sweet sounds he released brought you such an aching joy! How could love hurt so sweetly?

“Thank you, Y/N… For this, for… for loving me. This… I never would have expected to desire a sexually intimate relationship, much less a romantic one, but here you are… My murderous, moonlit belle…”

Was he tearing up? Oh, how sweet your darling was! You smiled softly to him and kissed him gently, your hands stroking his cheeks, his ears, his hair and neck.

“I have one more gift for you tonight, my darling. If you wish to receive it, that is,” you spoke softly, nuzzling into his throat. You heard a happy bleat and giggled- he was just too cute for your own good. “I can’t imagine anything better than this,” he replied, his fingers playing with the little miniature bows of the corset. “Short of covering you in my seed, this is the loveliest outward signal that you belong to me,” he purred, nuzzling and kissing into your hair.

“I’d like to give you my pelt,” you said, your smile buttery as you watched him melt before you. You were met with a crushing embrace and happy bleats as Alastor rubbed his cheek over your hair. You laughed happily as he snuggled you, your tail thumping in joy from all the affection you were receiving.

“May I be selfish and ask for two?” Alastor rubbed his nose over yours, and you quirked a curious brow. “Of course, my darling. One for the hotel, and one for your house?” You cocked your head in question, and he blushed before he answered.

“One for my home, and one for… personal use.”

Your smile grew wicked. “Oh?”

You felt your buck tense just a bit as he fought to push through his embarrassment, and your heart melted. “My season will be coming up in a few months, and while it’s never been anything more than a foul mood before, I am… uncertain how I may react now that I have someone I wish to be with… intimately. I would like to be able to surround myself with the scent of my mate without worrying about… ruining your lovely gift… should that be how my body reacts,” he explained, his eyes focusing on the top bow of your corset as he fidgeted with it.

“You really do have a scent kink, my beautiful mate.” You laughed and hugged Alastor close.

“Oh you have no idea, my Vixen. Why, remember our first night together?” You nodded, eyes half-lidded as you regarded him. “Just the scent of your arousal in your undergarments made me want to forget all about flaying in favor of breeding you into the dirt once I’d caught hold of you. I will confess, I even felt the need to relieve myself with the scent of your clothing as you recovered, but thankfully self control won out. Oh, but it was difficult…” His eyes were closed as he reminisced.

“When I saw you, so graceful, strong and proud- leaping through the branches, so sure of foot. Why, I just had to worship this lovely hell bound goddess of Wrath! Anything she may ask of me, I would endeavor to deliver.”

You were certain you were beet red at the confession- Satan damn it all, you could never get enough of this demon!

Alastor opened his eyes, his smile soft as he took in your drooping, lovestruck features. Cupping your cheek, he brought you in for a series of small dragging kisses before you pulled away to grin up at him.

“We don’t have the whole day this time, but would you like an encore of that fun little chase before flaying, my darling?”

He didn’t need to answer, his antlers doing that for him. Sliding off his lap to rise slowly in a show, you zapped a quick ‘stay put’ spell to your tall stilettos and swished your tail for him, wicked grin spread wide on your poison lips. Oh you definitely had his attention.

“Come and get me, my lovely buck…”

And you sped off.

———-/////////———////////———-

The Eve of Extermination

“Well, I think that’s all of the nursing stations filled. Has everyone received their weapons?”

You watched Husk nod to Charlie and the group grew silent. This was the worst part of preparing- the waiting. Not having a single clue as to whether or not everything you’d been working for would have any effect over the outcome. Whether tomorrow would be your last day of existence, whether the friends you’d made would exist after the battle or…

‘Fuck, this is not helping, Vix. Just try to calm down.’ This had become almost a mantra for you as the day came closer, and the buzzing dread that invaded your being just seemed to only grow. You subtly pinched at your wrist, the slight pain helping to ground you in your spiral.

“Perhaps you should give a speech, Charlie dear. Rally the troops, so to say!” Alastor’s jovial suggestion broke the silence, and Charlie turned nervous. Vaggie placed a reassuring hand on her forearm, and the taller demon softened as their eyes met before she set her jaw and straightened her shoulders.

When the crowd was gathered, Alastor tapped on Charlie’s shoulder, offering her his microphone cane with a soft smile. With grateful eyes, she took it and stepped up, every inch the future queen of Hell.

“Hello, I want to thank everyone for coming. Even people who aren’t staying here yet. Cherri…” she glanced over to the smirking woman.

“Look, I can’t resist a fight, OK? Especially when I get to tag team with this fuckhead!” She wrapped an arm around Angel, and the spider smiled warmly as he held her back. Charlie smiled at the sweet gesture before continuing.

“Tomorrow, the exorcist angels will face a Hell ready to defend itself and win!”

“Yeah! Yeah we will! Tell ‘em, baby!” Vaggie cheered excitedly for Charlie, and your heart swelled at the adorable way she gushed over her partner. They were just so cute!

Charlie perked up, gaining confidence knowing her love was there to encourage her. “Yes! And we are going to- - we are going to win! But… innn case we don’t… I want you all to know that getting to know you has been the biggest honor of my life. Whatever redemption really means, I know you all tried. I have seen the good in all of you, and it’s… and I… I’m just.. I love you all, so much… and- and live tonight however you want, because-“

“We’re all gonna die! Hahahahaha!” Niffty declared gleefully, and you snorted. How that little demon could make you laugh! That’s right… If you were going to die, you would at least get to have some fun along the way! Your smile grew sinister as you began imagining all the ways you could cut down your enemies with your new weapons. You’d received two angelic short blades, and combined with your battle shoes (that you’d been practicing with while in Alastor’s room), you would be absolutely lethal to your adversaries.

Everyone else seemed more disturbed by Niffty’s hilarious interruption, and Vaggie worked to release the tension, clapping her hands together.

“Alright! Let’s give it up for not dying! Love not dying!” Her attempt was falling a bit flat, but you couldn’t help but love her for it.

“…Drinks?”

That got everyone cheered up and moving back in to party in the hotel.

Charlie handed Alastor back his cane with a thank you, and he patted her head fondly as he took it back. You watched everyone walking into the hotel, feeling a bit outside of your body, before Alastor turned his lovely eyes to you. He stretched his arm out, warm hand open and inviting, and you took it- the sensation of him, of something real… something to hold on to… it helped.

The crowd had already dispersed, and your mate pulled you into his warm embrace. Soft jazz began playing, and you melted into his hold, rubbing your face into his coat as your ears pinned.

“Would you like to go home, mon cœur?” His soft voice helped to ground you further, and you focused on just breathing. His warm scent filled your senses as he just held you. A practice in patience, you were certain, but oh how wonderful he was. Claws dragged down your back in a light scratch and you sighed at the sensation.

“Just a little harder, please.”

How glad you felt to have a mate who knew you so well. He could have made a crude joke (which could be okay sometimes), made any number of unwanted advances, but not your darling. He immediately obeyed, rubbing his cheek against your hair as he pulled you closer and increased the pressure of his slow scratches.

You focused on your breathing, on the feeling of your mate surrounding you and the feel of his claws digging and dragging. “Would you mind very much if I retired early tonight? I still very much want to stay with you, and I will make a short appearance in the festivities, but I’m afraid my brain is being a brat,” you chuckled out, resting your forehead against the inverted cross at his chest.

Alastor hummed, pausing his scratching to manifest a lit blunt for you to take. You took the offering with a grateful smile and began working on it as he went back to his scratching.

“Darling, you don’t need to push yourself. If you would rather just retire, then you should. Perhaps a nice swim would feel good?”

How you loved your darling demon. “How do you know exactly how to set me right?” The question was more to yourself, and your overlord knew it. He just watched you with a soft smile, scratching and petting your long hair as his aura wrapped you in that wonderful feeling of safety. “I’d like to say goodnight to everyone, maybe grab a drink with Angie and Cherri before I retire,” you said, handing the significantly smaller blunt back to Alastor. He finished it off and vanished the ashes before offering his arm.

Smiling to your love, you took his arm, and the two of you disappeared into the lobby.

“I mean, personally I’m excited. It’s been a long time since I stabbed anyone and really meant it, you know what I mean?” Vaggie was cheerfully talking to Charlie, and you gave them both a pat on their shoulders before heading to the bar. It looked like the group had already begun working on the liquor supply.

“Cheers, bitches!” Cherri handed you a drink, and you accepted with a wide grin.

“Cheers, darling!” You raised your glass to clink with the others. “Yeah!” Even Husk was feeling spirited, it would seem. Angel raised his cup to join, contributing a jovial, “here’s to us!”

Sir Pentious rose to tower slightly over your small group and raised his cup to cheer out, “here’ss to being alive today, and not dying tomorrow!”

Well, that you had to agree with. Laughing at the snake demon’s cheerful bravado, you clinked his glass with the others and roamed over to take a seat at the far end of the bar. Giving a soft kiss to your hair, Alastor left to take care of whatever he needed to take care of, and you sighed, finally relaxing a bit more. You wanted to just take in the moment and try to think of the camaraderie, instead of the constant aching dread.

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

You watched as the small family mingled, and worked on your drink. It tasted like a mix of tequila, gin and some sort of syrup- perhaps strawberry? It was definitely strong, and you flagged Husk down to order another two before downing it. Husk gave you a look, and gave you your order, patting your shoulder in an attempt at reassurance, and you gave him a grateful nod and smile. Ears flicking, you listened to your friends as they talked around you.

“Last day of afterlife and you’re not off snortin’ a line off some hunk’s abs?” Husk genuinely seemed impressed.

“Ehh, ya fucked one cannibal pool boy, you fucked ‘em all,” he replied, and you snorted, trying to keep yourself from spitting out your second drink. Angel chuckled at your reaction, and Husk gave him a soft smile.

“I guess you have changed,” he said, his eyes proud, and was there a hint of attraction in there? Your inner matchmaker was squirming to play, but this relationship, be it platonic or romantic, would evolve just fine on its own. The two men obviously cared for each other.

Angel softened before an almost wicked grin overtook his features. “Hey, Charlie said live tonight however we wanted… so pour me a fresh one, and let’s get ta livin’!”

Oh what a sweet soul he was. Seeing Angel genuinely open up and allow himself vulnerability with his cherished ones warmed your heart in a way that was almost healing to your own soft parts.

Turning your attention to Cherri, you noticed a very nervous looking Pentious slithering up to shoot his shot. Oh, now this would be good.

“Misss Bomb…?” He started, his eyes darting as he did his best to overcome that crippling shyness. “Cherri?”

“Yeah?” She seemed almost bored, and you smirked. She was a hard egg to crack, for sure. You were certain Pentious would never try anything untoward, but Cherri would kick his ass into another life if he ever did. That woman was a powerhouse.

“I want to tell you… that I…”

Oh, this poor little danger noodle. He was down bad for the beauty. You locked eyes with Charlie as Vaggie began dragging her off. You could practically see little hearts floating out of the sweet princess as she eagerly watched Pentious attempt his confession.

“I love… I’d love to wish you good luck in the battle ahead.” Well, it was a step at least. He was trying, and he was being respectful while doing so. It was honestly quite striking to you- the change in him. You’d been witness to many turf wars over the decades, constantly moving your dimensional home in order to keep away from all that drama.

What you had seen of the Victorian demon was an angry man-child with an inferiority complex that reached violent heights. He’d treated everyone and everything as an enemy- a threat. The demon standing before Cherri now was a completely different person. His energy, albeit very nervous, was open, seeking as he tried to connect with the others around him.

Cherri regarded the snake demon, deciding he was being honest in his approach. “Okay.”

Pentious blushed, looking down to gather his courage before raising his gaze to meet hers. “You are… Have always been… a mosst worthy opponent. With the mosst… brilliant explosssive contraptions I’ve ever sseen.”

‘Awww’ Now this was just absolutely adorable! Whether or not Cherri decided to go for it, you would be secretly shipping it.

Taken aback, Cherri slowly softened into an almost sweet smile. “Uh… thanks?”

Oh, that snake was done for. “Anyway, I guesss- … please don’t die tomorrow okay bye!”

The poor panicking demon quickly made his exit, quite obviously overwhelmed from the interaction. Fucking cute as fuck!

You saw Angel sidle up next to the woman, a sly yet nonchalant expression on his features. You knew that look. Someone was in matchmaker mode.

“Ya know, you could totally tap that,” he commented, his face a vision of neutrality.

Cherri snorted at that, looking after the retreating snake demon. “Tss, don’t be gross,” she replied.

The two of them slurped at their drinks, and you gave Husk a gesture of cheers in the air before you both finished your drinks together. You ordered another one and began working on your third. The alcohol was beginning to hit and you felt a pleasant release in your shoulders as your body further relaxed.

Angel was completely undeterred by the shorter demon’s comment, used to her crass manner of speaking- it was part of her charm.

“Cuz, you know, I hear he’s got two dicks.”

Damn, talk about hook, line and sinker. You couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten Alastor to approach you, because fuck that spider knew how to sell a date!

That had certainly caught Cherri’s attention. You could see the gears turning in her head as her aversion turned to fascination.

“Huh…” A smirk crept its way up her lips as she turned to look at the retreating snake. Oh Angel, that sly devil. You caught his eye and you shared a knowing, wicked grin.

When finished with your drink, you waved goodbye to everyone and walked away from the bar. You made sure to say short goodbyes to Flora and Ethel, and made your way to the kitchen. Your team had pre-made sandwiches and desserts that morning- you had a large stock for the next few days. You doubted anyone would feel like fixing food while trying to fight or heal.

As you walked down the hall, you allowed yourself to exhale that final breath you’d been holding. Alone at last. You loved your friends, but you definitely required a battery recharge after a lot of social interaction- and a month long battle camp assignment counted double, maybe triple social interaction.

Humming a soft tune, you grabbed a couple of sandwiches and a slice of pecan pie. You would offer your flesh tonight, but it was always good to have other options. As you turned to leave, you bumped into the broad chest of your mate. He really enjoyed sneaking up on people.

Looking up, you noticed what looked to be a delightfully macabre crown of roaches atop his head.

“Your majesty,” you chuckled out, giving a small bow. “I adore the new jewelry, my love. Is that a gift from dear Niffty?”

With a sentimental huff, Alastor shrugged his shoulders. “I have been dubbed King Roach,” he said, a small hint of pride in his tone, and you couldn’t help the warm smile. Such a teddy bear…

“May I request my queen’s company?” Those crimson eyes glowed down at you, and you melted.

“I love you, you big goofball,” you replied, reaching your free hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into the touch, covering your hand with his.

“Before we go, how hungry are you? I was thinking that, should you desire, you may eat your fill of my flesh. It’s a special occasion, after all. Sure, the world’s not ending, but we’ve got a big day tomorrow and-“

Soft lips silenced your offer as Alastor kissed you- a gentle reassurance. “Tonight, ma chér, I want to take care of you. There is no tomorrow…”

Alastor snapped your food into stasis and you felt his shadows swallow you up, taking you to his room. Such a convenient power- you’d been attempting it for several weeks with no luck, but who knows, maybe someday.

“What do you need, mon cœur?” His soft voice at your ear soothed your frazzled nerves. You could never tell just how tense you’d been until given the opportunity and space to decompress.

You took a moment to take stock of your body; there were a few areas that felt almost numb, and you sighed as you deflated. There was no hiding or masking around your darling, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Can we just lay down and rest?”

Shadows surrounded you and you found yourself in his bed, cradled in the strong arms of your mate. Nuzzling and snuffling into your hair, your darling carded his claws through the long strands, down your arms.

It was pure comfort Alastor was offering. His hands just kept running through your hair in gentle motions, scraping his claws down your back as he went- grounding you. He silently watched you as soft, crackling jazz played. His aura folded around you, his shadow wrapping you completely in their embrace.

Cocooned in his essence, the soft pressure of his body and shade brought such comfort. Your own shadow split to curl around you all, chirping as they wriggled and snuggled in. Alastor chuckled at their antics and kissed their cheek.

You tried to sleep, honest you did. As the hours passed you watched each other, your thoughts swirled in dread of the what ifs. Alastor stayed right next to you, his presence an anchor for you to hold on to. He was so patient with you, and you would spend an eternity showing him just how grateful you were to him for his gentle manner.

“Would you like breakfast, my dearest?” He pet your hair as you stretched yourself out, a few bones cracking as you moaned.

“I don’t feel hungry, but I would like to have something to occupy my hands. Would you want to join me in baking something? I think I’d like to knead some dough,” you said, offering a soft smile as you moved to get out of bed.

Alastor’s smile softened on you and he moved to follow. He zapped himself into his usual suit as you wrapped your sheer red dressing gown over your black nightgown. You worked on brushing the tangles from your hair to tie it back, and Alastor took over the task as he hummed along to the soft music he played while you relaxed under his touch. He braided your long hair, planting a gentle kiss to your shoulder when finished.

You spent the morning baking an army’s worth of danish pastries, the scent of almond and vanilla drawing in early risers who roamed the halls. You felt so at home like this, working alongside your darling in the charming antique kitchen he’d magicked, exchanging light jabs and kisses, gentle touches and nuzzles.

When finished, Alastor snapped the pastries packed and in the lobby for guests to take when coming down, and you made your way back to his room to get ready. The warm water of the shower helped to clear away the cobwebs in your mind; the stream beating against your skin brought a focus to you that worked to wake your senses.

Alastor had gone to speak with Charlie and finalize any last minute arrangements. You zapped your battle suit on, bending down to double check the shoes were secured before you heard speaker interference from behind you, a smirk tugging on your lips.

“Do you like my present from Velvette? My darling doll made this for me, and I’ve been refreshing my ballet skills.”

You felt his hands gliding over the stretched fabric as you rose and turned to meet his glowing gaze. The way Alastor stared at you made you feel like the very Goddess of Wrath he’d spoken of. His eyes roamed over your form appreciatively before stepping closer to hug you to him, taking a deep breath against your hair, and your ear flicked as you giggled at the ticklish sensation.

“Do thank her for me, my goddess,” he chuckled low, kissing the top of your head before stepping back to gaze down at you. He dragged his fingers over the corset, “she’s melded spell work and angelic steel together quite beautifully. I can tell she truly cares for you and your safety,” he said, his smile soft. “And I would love to know how she made amends with Carmilla after her faux pas at the last overlord meeting.”

Alastor laughed, and you cocked your head with a smirk. “She did mention something about having to apologize for a little misunderstanding, but now I’m quite curious as to just what this “little misunderstanding” was.”

“My dear, you know your friend well; would you care to hazard a guess?” He bent down to your eye level, crimson orbs narrowing slyly.

“Stuck her foot in it, didn’t she. Was there singing?” His wide smile was answer enough, and you laughed together for a moment before settling.

Alastor pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a breathtaking kiss. This was it…

As you separated, his eyes told you everything you needed to know. “I’m ready,” you said, and his shadows swallowed you up.

He deposited you close to Angel, and you noticed the two exchange a glance and smile, before Alastor took your hand to kiss, and his shadows spirited him to his post on the hotel roof. Oh, how you wished for those stupid angels to just come down already so you could fight, instead of think… and worry.

Suddenly, the Heaven portal opened and the exorcists sped through, war cries on the wind. Vaggie turned to look at you all, “Here they come. Get ready, everyone! We fight together!”

Niffty bounced excitedly beside you, and you shared a wicked grin with Cherri as the angels grew closer.

Vaggie’s booming voice soared over the large crowd. “Now! For your souls!” As the fighters around you began yelling their own war cries, you heard the princess add her own, “Let’s fuck. Them. Up!!!”

You heard a roaring bellow as a protective shadow barrier rose to form around the entire area around the hotel. You’d never seen such a thing- he truly was in a league of his own. It was actually stopping the exorcists in their tracks once a certain amount had been let through. Maybe he actually could take on Adam.

There was no more time to think. A body split in half as you flung yourself through the legs of your careless first victim. Oh, you’d definitely be thanking Velvette for your favorite new toys! Blood sprayed over your form and you sped through the crowd, slicing off wings, legs, heads- any part of an angel that caught your notice was a potential target.

Maniacal laughter boomed from your chest as you flew through your enemies, one by one. Why, if it weren’t for their afterlife-ending weapons, you might even feel bad for how easily you slaughtered them. These birds acted as though they’d never even faced a real fight before- and they probably hadn’t, always holding death in their grasp. They’d probably never needed to properly fight!

Angel had his tommy guns out, laughing along with you and Cherri. “Yeah! Come and get some!”

“Eat shrapnel, fuckers!” Cherri threw her new angelic bombs, hitting each target with perfect precision.

‘General’ Pentious pointed towards a cluster of exorcists and called to his egg bois, “all angelic weapons fire at will!” Loud booms sounded as his minions followed his order, and Husk looked to you all.

“Hey! Yelling while fighting doesn’t help!”

You smirked as you slashed through another body, “It does if he’s calling out battle orders, ya goober!”

“You kids shut the fuck up and get to killing! Nobody gives a shit what you gotta say!”

“Susan, darling! How have you been?” Using a short blade, you decapitated an angel aimed at the old demon. “I figured you’d be cannikid-sitting!”

Susan gave you an unimpressed glower and slammed her cane sword over and through an exorcist’s skull; you gave a low whistle. “I can still cut a rug!” She grinned in pride, and you watched as Niffty stabbed her felled angel several times, laughing maniacally as she made her way through corpses on the ground. Well, at least you wouldn’t need to worry about any attacks from angels playing dead; you laughed with the little demon and went back to your own proverbial dance card.

“Alastor’s shield is working!” Charlie’s excited voice sounded as you weaved through your allies and struck down enemies.

“Trying to focus, sweetie!” Vaggie replied.

“We might actually have a chance!” Oh how adorable was the princess of Hell!

“Love the optimism. Still trying to focus.”

That was when you heard the cracking boom, and Alastor’s barrier fell. ‘Fuck,’ you thought, taking in the sheer number of exorcists left. A thrum of fear pulsed in your chest, but you tamped it down. Alastor was a big boy, and could look after himself. You just hoped that he would honor his promise to escape if things got too hairy, and not fall to that excessive pride that filled him.

You saw the first man chuckle as he panted from the energy expelled. You’d had to run from him several times over the decades, and he never failed to make your bloodlust boil over. Watching the large angel, you couldn’t help but notice something- he was winded. Alastor could win!

There was no more time to think- you dodged a swinging axe and a long sword as two exorcists worked together to get you. A decent strategy, but it wouldn’t work.

Your feet swept quickly, and you leapt into a grand jeté en tourant, decapitating one angel, and slicing a wing from the other before landing in a spin. Niffty quickly overtook the angel and killed her- she was actually quite good at her job. More angels came, and you moved to work your way through them, slicing and stabbing any enemy flesh you could get your hands on.

The battle was exhausting, yet exhilarating! As several angels flew towards you, your wicked grin grew wide. Time to let your violent little darklings out to play.

Releasing your aura, your predators eyes flashed as you directed your little pack to the group speeding towards you, and they attacked with a ferocity that made your heart swell with pride. The angels all fell as your shadows broke their wings and swirled around them to distract, all while you played your own little demented game of duck, duck, goose- slicing each throat as you hummed a jaunty tune.

All of a sudden, you saw a bright blast of light burst over the hotel. ‘Oh no…’

You didn’t have time to worry right now, you had to have faith in your partner, but fuck if it wasn’t swimming through your mind. ‘Please take care of yourself, my heart,’ you sent your thought on the wind and imagined your darling receiving it. ‘I love you oh so very much.’

“Right flank advance! Left flank, watch your six! Ladies! There are more coming up on your right! Get ready for them Vagatha!” Pentious had retreated to the hotel and was expertly using a tablet to help spot danger as it came.

“Not my name! But, got it!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry- Sorry, sorry!” Sweet Charlie was doing her best to block attacks with her angelic shield- that sweet little cinnamon roll shouldn’t have to be fighting a war.

“Now’s not the time for that, babe!” Vaggie yelled as she tangled with yet another exorcist.

Charlie looked abashed as she tried to psych herself up. “Oh, right. Die, motherfuckers!” Fireworks shot from her finger as she pointed to the group of angels charging Vaggie. They all exploded on contact, and you paused your fight in awe of the sheer power the little darling possessed. If only she had the desire to cultivate it; perhaps you could help with that. If you survived, that is. The princess was once again squatting under her shield, glancing sheepishly to her partner.

Another angel threw themself into you, and you were sent flying to the ground in your distraction. ‘Damnit Vix, focus!’ You told yourself, stabbing the angel in their carotid artery.

“These fuckin’ angels won’t stop comin’!”

You couldn’t help the snort of laughter that fell from your throat at Husk’s comment. “”Haah!”” You and Angel both exclaimed at the same time, and Husk gave a quirking, defeated smile.

“Okay, I walked right into that one,” he conceded, waving you both off with a huff.

Angel’s head turned, his eyes hardening. “Hold that thought,” he said, leaping to strike down an angel cornering a trembling Frank. The big ol’ softie.

There was a brilliant explosion that knocked you all off your feet, and you looked up to see Adam throwing his holy light every which direction. “Suck my holy light, fuckaaazzz! Yeeeaah!”

“What? Alastor was supposed to handle him,” Charlie exclaimed in confusion, before dreading realization hit, and she covered her mouth as her eyes widened. “Oh no, he must be-“

“Don’t finish that sentence. Alastor is a cunning demon. He will have escaped if things got too hairy. He is more than likely just injured,” you yelled, more to reassure yourself than the princess. ‘Please, my heart…’

Niffty had been thrown by a blast and lay face down in the dirt, but gave a thumbs up when you called to her. Was this it? Was the angelic army going to kill you all one by one? You could already see cannibals making their way to nursing stations. You’d left your shade in charge of the front most station, as while they couldn’t speak, they were incredibly quick at assessing damage and figuring out which healing aid would best suit the situation.

Another blast sent you roughly to the ground, and you glared up at the manic angel. Oh now he would have to go, and you would damn well find a way to make it happen before you found your permadeath.

“We aren’t gonna last long unless we do something about him,” Vaggie yelled, and you couldn’t agree more.

“Pentious?” Your attention turned to Charlie watching something, and you turned to see that giant monstrosity of a war ship sail past towards Adam.

“That crazy mothafucka,” Angel said; the entire group turned to watch as a bright light formed at the front of the vessel. Could that actually work?

Your eyes widened when Adam seemed to notice the war ship behind him, and he blasted the entire vessel out of existence. ‘No…’ Oh Satan, if he still had that much power after fighting Alastor…

“Fuck… Ya did good, buddy,” Angel said quietly, his head bowing.

“No, no no no,” Charlie fell to her knees, shaking in grief as she worked to gather herself. Vaggie stepped close to her, moving to hold her love as angry tears filled the princess’s eyes.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry…”

The demon princess growled as she wiped the tears from her eyes and stood, her body going up in flame as she unleashed her demonic fury. Horns sprouted as she screeched out a hawk’s cry, a trident forming in her hand. Her red eyes glowed with a wrath that sent shivers down to your tail.

“Razzle! Dazzle!”

The two now very large dragons flew to crouch for their riders, and Charlie and Vaggie each mounted to fly.

“Let’s ride!” Charlie yelled, and the two giant beasts leapt into the air, their large wings sending your group stumbling from the wind.

Husk was first to recover, excitedly cheering the two on. “Yeah! Get ‘em!” As your small army cheered and watched the two fly to meet their opponents, you noticed many of the exorcists hanging back, not sure as what to do. You could take advantage of the situation. Or you could go help your shade treat angelic injuries. With an annoyed growl, you chose to zip over and begin shortening the line of injured cannibals.

Your shade greeted you with a chirp and happy nuzzling before zooming back to their current patient, and you set to work on the next demon waiting for treatment. It kept you occupied as booms and screams sounded around you. You felt well and truly in a war zone.

You had to pop several patients into a pocket dimension in order to quickly move everyone out of the way when a particularly vicious blast split the entire hotel clean in half. Holy fucking shitballs! The sheer power being thrown around was absolutely insane!

Once safely away from a brand new Adam-shaped crater, you deposited your stored patients gently on the ground, looking up to see none other than Lucifer fucking Morningstar. In all his infernal angelic glory. The sweet little bouncy man had completely transformed into a true visage of the devil you’d heard stories of up top. Damn, and he pulled. it. off! You could hear his demonic tone as he roared at Adam, holding his darling demon daughter in one arm.

“You come at me, and my daughter, don’t forget- you’re in my house, bitch!”

The demon king had set his daughter down, and now landed punch after bone crushing punch as he laughed maniacally. Oh how you wished Alastor were here to enjoy this wonderful show of wrath! Perhaps he was lingering in the shadows, enjoying the entertainment. The very thought helped to calm your raving heart.

Dear Charlie ran to her raging father and set a calming hand on his shoulder. “Woah, woah, Dad,” she soothed, “he’s had enough.”

The little devil put the giant ball of flame he’d been forming away and leapt out of the crater with Charlie, his breath heavy as he worked to contain himself. “Alright,” he said to his daughter, before glaring cockily down at the (surprisingly handsome) beaten angel. “How’s mercy taste, you little bitch?”

Well, fuck. Now you had a boner.

Panting as he crawled his way out of his crater, Adam growled his fury. “No. You don’t get to end this. I’m fucking Adam. I’m the fucking man and you’re just some fuckin’ clown or something! I started everything on Earth. All of mankind came from these fucking nuts. You all should be worshipping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers! Aaaahh!”

Your eyes widened as the tip of a blade shot through the Angel’s gut.

“Woahohoah!” Vaggie was beside herself with joy, cupping her face in her hands.

“Hey, you got something… stickin’ outta your… your thing there…” Lucifer said, looking thoroughly confused.

As the large angel fell on his face, you saw none other than little Niffty holding the killing blade. Oh, how proud you were! What a splendid, darling demon!

“Niffty!?” Charlie was aghast.

The little demon began stabbing the fallen angel with a renewed, maniacal vigor. “Stab! Stab! Stab!” She laughed, the cackling a delightful music to your ears. “Blood! Hahahahaha!”

The first man’s lieutenant cried out and ran to her superior. “Noooo! Sir! Sir! Stay with me, sir!” You noticed a small smile play on the fallen Angel’s lips as he looked up at her. “Adam!”

Charlie stepped forward, eyes firm as she glared down at the lieutenant. “It’s over.”

Lucifer stepped up beside his daughter, his crimson gaze hard. “Take your little friends and

Go home!!

… Please.”

My, he could change his demonic features so quickly! The small devil had changed from hellhound to cherub in a matter of seconds.

The lieutenant glared up at the two, grabbing the fallen Adam’s halo as she rose to her feet. “Retreat. All exorcists fall back!”

Her call was answered, and you watched in delighted disbelief as the angelic army rustled their wings and flew away to disappear back to Heaven.

Fucking shit! Did you actually survive? You were in utter shock at the fact. You survived! Your thoughts were interrupted when Lucifer offered an awkward, lighthearted, “Sooo… who’s up for pancakes?”

Little Niffty excitedly raised her hand and you giggled at the adorable demon. You couldn’t believe it- you had fucking survived! Where was your darling? Surely he would be waiting in the shadows to meet you.

As the group mourned for Sir Pentious, you wandered through the rubble. Where was Alastor?

“Darling?” You called softly. You waited for a sign- any signal or flare of aura to let you know your mate was okay.

“Alastor? Please answer me, my love,” your voice wavered, your throat tightening as your chest constricted. Why wasn’t he answering? Where did he go?!

Your shade split from you to zoom over the debris, chirping calls of both their special language, and the chittering they used for the demon himself. You were doing your best to stay calm, thankful for the battle shoes pointed toe as you leapt over slabs of concrete to search. You could hear the group singing together- a song of hope for a better future.

“Alastor!!” You screamed out for your mate, the panic giving way to a trembling grief as your shadows all searched. Your legs were shaking as you tried to hold your tears at bay. He was okay. He was okay. He had to be okay!!!

“Al… my love. Please…” ‘Don’t fall… You won’t get back up if you fall… He needs us,’ you told yourself, forcing yourself to take another step. One painful step at a time. The more ground you covered with no hint of his aura, his shadow, not even a poppet, the heavier your body felt. How long had you been searching? The group sang in the background, cheering themselves up as best they could with the loss of Pentious. Why weren’t they helping you look for Alastor? You knew Alastor had been there on orders, but surely they felt some sort of kinship with the overlord.

That’s when you felt it. Your head turned at the small flare of his aura, and that’s all you needed. Your feet flew you towards the broken radio tower, looking entirely uninhabitable. ‘Please be okay…’ Your speed would rival any sin or god. You zipped over to the wrecked tower and scented the air, your relief palpable when you caught his musk.

Looking around the structure, you found some of the rubble moved, and you dug your way in. It took a long while, but as you got closer to the trap door you heard his booming angry voice, muffled through the remaining debris. He was at least healthy enough to angrily sing, so hopefully that meant he was reasonably unharmed.

When finally you got to the trap door, you gingerly lifted it up to see your mate laughing like the big bad demon he was. Your shade shook and chittered in warning. You would need to approach with extreme caution.

“Darling?” Your voice was weak, cracking under the un shed tears. Rising from the trap door, you stood still as you worked to catch his attention. “Alastor?”

His head turned, and you saw a cornered animal within those crimson orbs. Your shadow warbled, holding your little darklings in check as they fought to neutralize the very real threat in front of you.

“Y/N! My dear!” He called you by your earth name, and your heart clenched. It was rare he used that name, usually using your preferred name or a pet name. It felt… off.

“My sweet mate, you are injured…” you gave a whine, your eyes trying to call him back to you. “May I treat your wounds, my heart?” You stepped closer to him, and his wild eyes widened to match that manic smile.

“Come dance with me, little pup,” he held out his large hand, and you took it without question. Whatever it took to touch him. To make sure. Make sure that he would survive this. Any mental wounds you would handle. After you were certain his body was safe.

A sweeping love song played, and you stepped in time with Alastor as he twirled you around the ruins of his radio tower. How you wished to just allow him to dance you into the night. Perhaps he would forgive you, and you could dance once again. When all of this was over. When he was safe.

The song drifted as it ended, and you saw your opportunity. You fluttered your lashes and cocked your head slightly, sending every signal you had in your arsenal. If you could just get him to take your bait.

As those crimson eyes narrowed and his lips quirked, your lips began to heat. With one last sweeping dip, Alastor pulled you back up to crash his lips against yours, and his body jolted.

And he fell into your arms.

You saw the second he understood what you had done to him, and it broke your heart. Laying him gently down, you placed your hand gently over the gaping wound covering his chest.

Tears poured unbidden, and you let them. How close had you come to truly losing him? You could live with him hating you after this. At least he would live.

Closing your eyes, you felt for any lingering holy energy. There was fucking plenty. How was he still alive? This was the worst wound you’d seen where the patient still had energy to fucking dance! But then again, he was strong. Stronger than any sinner you’d met before, and that’s saying something.

You weren’t certain you could heal this… Maybe Lucifer…

‘No, for now let’s get him stable and comfortable. We’ll observe his progress, and if it doesn’t get better, then we bring in the arch rival.’ Cupping his face, you let your tears fall as you willed him to feel how much you loved him.

“Please forgive me, my heart. I will take care of you,” you said, before pointing him into your pocket dimension.

———-////////————/////////————-////////——-

After three days, you decided it would be safe to let the poison leave Alastor’s system. You sat at the side of the bed you’d manifested in his little bayou you’d created, waiting for the signs of his movement. Waiting for the repercussions of your betrayal. You had at least snapped your outfit clean (thank you, darling mate, for helping you figure out blood), but you hadn’t showered or eaten. You’d just sat next him, telling stories of life, friends, murders. Anything you could think of to distract him from the helplessness he almost certainly felt. You sang when you couldn’t think of anything to say, and the days had passed oh so slowly. You were fairly certain you looked like a hot mess, puffy eyes and mussed up hair.

As Alastor slowly began moving his fingers, your ears pricked as you searched his eyes for what his next move would be. “Move slowly, Al. If you take it easy, you should recover fully. You do have a lovely new scar, but I think it only adds to your charm,” you said, a soft nervous smile playing on your lips.

Your shadows were back in your realm of darkness, and as Alastor’s form began contorting, you faintly wished you had kept them in yourself.

Those lovely eyes bled into black, and his irises flared into red radio dials, a bright green ‘X’ at his forehead. His body lengthened and antlers grew gnarled, his neck cracking and cocking as he sat up and stared you down.

With a grunt, you found yourself sprawled under the intimidating demon, and your heart clenched as you met his fierce gaze.

“You know, I could rip your soul apart, ma chér,”

came the demonic tenor. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you were terrified.

“Please don’t rip your stitches, my heart,” you pled, your eyes beginning to well up once again. “You can hate me, but you can’t die.”

A whimper fell from your throat, and you saw Alastor’s eyes widen for a moment as he leaned back and away. That monstrous visage regarded you, and for a long moment you watched each other. Cautious. Reading.

“I could devour you right now,”

he said after the long silence, and the tears fell as you smiled for him.

“Take what you need, my heart,” came your wavering reply.

And he was on you.

As his lips met yours, his aura flared, wild and chaotic, and you responded to the call. Wrapping your arms around his long, crooked neck, you moaned as his kiss stole your breath away. He was hungry and messy as he fisted your hair, pulling roughly before his fangs ripped into your shoulder.

Screeching and bucking against his crooked form, you panted as he began feasting. You screamed when his teeth cracked your collarbone, and he growled against you, grinding his teeth into it. Fuck, he was a cruel demon. You saw the sadistic pleasure in his eyes as he watched you writhe in pain.

He took every piece of flesh he could find, and you loved him so very much. He was so very lovely covered in your blood. Your heart felt like it could give out any moment, and you fought through the blinding pain.

“I don’t know how to deal with you…”

His soft words broke through the throbbing pain, and you turned your eyes to his demonic form. You couldn’t answer even if you had one. Your vocal chords were shredded. Idly, you supposed this was quite the role reversal, but you doubted he was feeling nursely. The monster beside you was every inch the Radio Demon of legend, and you loved him so very much.

“I thought I was stronger than this. Better than this. Oh, mon cœur…”

You watched your darling break, his form going back to normal as he shook. How you wanted to hold him, tell him it was okay. Tell him he could take more- take your heart and crush it under his hoofs, if only it would help. Time passed as he shook and sobbed.

When you felt strong enough to speak, you cleared your throat, catching his attention as a cute ear swiveled in your direction.

“I love you,” you croaked out, trying to move your hand to hold his, but you had more healing to do.

That started the sobbing anew, and you could only watch as the man you loved ripped at his hair, growling as radio static filled the air. Your heart ached for the broken man.

Another hour and you could finally move, your hand resting gently on his shoulder and he flinched, before deflating, and those lovely eyes turned to you.

“I love you,” you repeated, braving to move your hand to cup his cheek. You saw more tears well, and you felt your own throat tighten.

“You shouldn’t. I hurt you.”

“I gave my permission, Alastor,” you said, rubbing your thumb to catch a stray tear.

“I would have attacked you even without it. I wanted nothing more than to hurt you… in that moment. I’m just like my fucking father.”

Hardening your eyes, you sent your hand flying to slap Alastor. “Say that again, and I’ll pull your guts out with a barbed wire crank wheel.”

That had the desired effect, shocking the demon to stillness. He stared at you and you glared back.

Finally, his head fell and his shoulders shook as he began to laugh.

“You’re the only person in this wide universe that would survive being mauled by the Radio Demon and slap him like a naughty child afterward.”

Your heart lightened when his smile softened on you, and you smiled back. “Well, if I smell bullshit, I gotta wipe it off,” you replied.

He laughed and you joined him, feeling at ease for the first time in a month. He was alive. He was safe. He was sane… well, the Alastor type of sane. You would be okay.

A week passed as you nursed your mate to mostly health, and you decided you would ask Lucifer for help once Alastor felt ready to go back to the hotel. He was gaining strength, but the angry gash you’d stitched wasn’t healing at all. It worried you, but at least it wasn’t infected.

When finally your darling felt he could rest no longer, you sent him off with a kiss, making him promise to take it easy and telling him you’d be checking on him every day. He just chuckled and kissed you before leaving.

Maybe that song of hope Charlie sang would come to fruition. Maybe, with a bit of elbow grease and a lot of patience, there could one day be…

A happy day in Hell.

The End.

Author’s Note:

Holy fucking shitballs! I cannot believe I’m actually finishing a project, much less a writing one! A little about me- I’ve been struggling with trauma disorders and chronic pain for years and this right here is the first thing in at least 6 years that I’ve started and completed. I know it’s just a smutty indulgent fanfic, but I feel proud of it, and that’s the first time in a long time I’ve been able to say that about anything. This show and community have been such a wonderful experience, and I can’t wait for season 2. Plus all of the wonderful art and fics! HH has been such a comfort, Alastor being my favorite comfort character, because to me he’s a safe person. Don’t get me wrong he’ll eat the shit outta you, but that’s all. He’s the bear I choose over the creep yelling his frustration over women preferring to run into a bear when alone in the woods. Granted, that’s if his comic is canon. Pretty sure it is. Basically the guy sees rape as distasteful as bad meat and I feel that.

Thank you so much for reading and encouraging me to keep going. It really means the world to me. I think I’ll be trying to finish up I Turned the Corner next, and am currently working on a plot line for my own little season two, so until next time- Stay Tuned… 🖤

[olderthannetfic]

Something I've noticed when I write black OCs is that I get people referencing TV Tropes like it's a gotcha. "You're writing a black woman with water elemental powers. That's really cliche, here's a link to show what I mean." "Oh he has lightning abilities? That's super overdone, haven't you seen the page Electric Black Guy?" "That name sounds pretty stereotypical. It's what TV Tropes would call a Ghetto Name." "Him being into classical music has such "But Not Too Black" vibes."

I had a college professor who was super into TV Tropes. She was an adjunct who wore the same red cardigan and stained, smelly purple Uggs every day, who regularly rambled and went over the allotted time we had for class each day, one time by forty minutes. I got a lot of writing done in that Intro To Literature class, but it's given me a bias against TV Tropes. Particularly because none of those tropes are bad.

Black people having elemental superpowers in a setting where all superpowers are elemental? Not a bad thing, it'd be kind of weird if I broke the lore just for black people. Somali names like what I gave one character's family (bc they're Somali American) being "ghetto" is dependent on what we mean by "ghetto" but why would be it bad if, in fact, those were names people living in a ghetto had? And speaking as a harpist in my university's orchestra, I know for a fact that black people into classical music exist, not just because they're in the orchestra but because our orchestra director is a black man who's very passionate about multiple genres, including ones that are "not too black".

TV Tropes was fun in middle school. I get the appeal. But it doesn't dictate what can and cannot be written about. And just because a trope has a name doesn't mean it's racist/evil/bad/wrong and no one can ever write ever no matter what. Even TV Tropes says tropes are not evil.

--

The real cliche here is the desire to police the fuck out of every single black character for not being literally all things to all people at the same time.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Is It true that Lebon gathered musicians to play music during the executions in Arras?

The the best source mentioning any such thing I’ve got so far is a letter from Armand Joseph Guffroy to Robespierre dated 18 floréal (May 7 1794), published in the former’s Les secrets de Joseph Lebon et de ses complices, released a few months after the fall of latter:

To relax, and to be consistent, you must this evening, or tomorrow at the latest, have Demeulier and his three companions freed from the Madelonnettes, to know for yourself the truth of what is happening in Arras. Listen and remember; these are Patriots oppressed by a Priest, who has been locked up like a madman, and who, when he could no longer be fanatic and superstitious, became a fanatical patriot through avarice, and caused patriotism and virtue to be hated by his extravagant conduct; or should I say, by his atrocious conduct. Know that, placed on the balcony of the comedy, on the fish market, (today Place de la Revolution), with his nose on the guillotine, he spoke with passion about the execution, and he ordered the tune ça ira to be played (il a fait jouer par la musique l’air ça ira). […]

Guffroy was Lebon’s archenemy, so this information should of course be treated with some caution. We know Guffroy was not an eye witness to this (but also that he did have contacts with people that could have been, such as Antoine Buissart and one Solon), that his goal with the letter is to get Robespierre to recall Lebon, increasing the chances he would lay it on thick in describing what he’s been up to (or could it instead be argued he would try to be as truthful as possible in order to get Robespierre to see how bad it really is?) and that stories about representatives on mission taking pleasure in watching the executions take place hardly is something unique for Lebon, and in some cases can be disproven (such as in the case of Collot d’Herbois, who almost certainly did not personally witness the shootings of condemned in Lyon).

Besides that, I found the following two testimonies from possible eye witnesses, both cited within this great blog post. The two are however written both 1, way after the fact, and 2, by people hostile to Lebon, making it hard to rule out the possibility their stories are embellished or even build on what Guffroy wrote in his report (although in the latter case, the part about the music is a very tiny detail among almost 500 pages, so it still seems a bit strange they would all pick exactly that detail to copy):

When any of his colleagues passed through Arras, [Lebon] always proposed their joining with him in a "partie de Guillotine", and the executions were perpetrated on a small square at Arras, rather than the great one, that he, his wife, and relations, might more commodiously enjoy the spectacle from the balcony of the theatre, where they took their coffee, attended by a band of music, which played while his human butchery lasted. A Residence in France during the years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795 (1798) by Charlotte Biggs.

Penetrating the crowd, which was thronging in the dark and winding streets, I soon reached the fish-market. Then the first object which struck my sight was the guillotine, raising its blood-red boards above the silent multitude. An old man, whom they had just tied to the fatal plank, was the victim; suddenly I heard the sound of trumpets. On a high place which overlooked the orchestra, was seated a man, still young, clad in a Carmagnole of black and blue stripes. This person, whose appearance announced monastic rather than military habits, was leaning carelessly on a cavalry sabre, the large hilt of which represented the Cap of Liberty; a row of pistols ornamented his girdle, and his hat, turned up in the Spanish fashion, was surmounted by a large tri-coloured cockade: I recognised Joseph Lebon. At this moment his mean countenance was animated with a horrid smile; he paused from beating time with his left foot; the trumpets stopped; he made a signal, and the old man was placed under the blade. A sort of clerk, half drunk, then appeared at the side of the " avenger of the people," and read with a hoarse voice a bulletin of the army of the Rhine and Moselle. At each paragraph the orchestra sounded a chord; and when the reading was concluded, the head of the wretched old man was stricken off amidst shouts of "Vive la republique!" repeated by the satellites of the ferocious Lebon. I shall never forget, nor can I adequately depict the impression of this horrible sight. I reached my father's house almost as lifeless as the miserable being whose agony had been so cruelly prolonged; and then I learnt that he was M. de Mongon, the old commandant of the citadel, condemned as an aristocrat. Memoirs of Eugène Vidocq (1829)

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I read an au fic involving a Tadfield community band or orchestra. It was called “friends of the lower tadfield community band” or something but I can’t get a close enough search to find it - could you help me find it again? Thank you! <3

I believe you're looking for...

The Greater Tadfield Friends Of Music Autumn Concert by CopperBeech (E)

Anthony Crowley, marketing consultant and competent amateur flautist, finds he can at least flee the smoke and congestion of London if not the golden handcuffs of his job. He’s got no personal life to leave behind; he likes things anonymous, and rough, and even a little dangerous, and far enough from home that he won’t have to deal with entanglements. So what’s he doing obsessing about a mannerly, daintily groomed, kindly man who he’s not even sure is gay? And how’s he going to cope with a hotbed of gossip, a lovelorn tubist serenading the witch next door, and an irascible music director with a Black Belt in baton-throwing?

A pro-tip I've mentioned before, if you're searching for something where you have specific details from the title, summary, or author's notes of a fic, is to use the "search within results" box in the filter options. I put "friends tadfield" in there and only had two pages of results to check through to find this fic!

- Mod D

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Rhian, drop your morning/night routine!

Rhian: In the morning, I don't "wake up" like most do. Instead, I simply get out of bed since I'm usually up all night attempting to fall asleep. Repose rarely overtakes me, and my mind's always reeling. I may have to commission a sleeping draught from a witch one day.

At this stage of the morning, Rafal is usually still out cold, and it doesn't matter how loud I am, so I listen to the morning Kingdom Council spellcast reports from a mirror I've ensorcelled at full volume and review the Putsi market trends as I start on my routine.

The Gillikin Gazette's updates about its ongoing cathedral construction are my favorites though—its flying buttresses rival Camelot's dated, heavier Romanesque designs. I only manage to catch those reports on Saturdays though since I have to be out of the tower and on my way at an early hour most days. Oh, and I tend to cast a spell, so my bed makes itself while I busy myself with more important tasks.

Firstly, I need my ermine slippers and silk dressing gown. I shower and usually start with a facial, rosewater, or whichever magical cure-all I'm currently using to remove my under-eye shadows with.

Though, Rafal's been a bother about the cucumbers I go through. He thinks I'll drain the Woods' supply and that he won't have any left for his sandwiches. Mind you, that isn't true in the least.

I use charcoal imported from Akgul to remove impurities of the skin, and that's been rather effective as of late. I also ice my pores, page through Maxine's progress reports, and keep tabs on the lackadaisical performers. Tracking's very important at a School like ours, you know.

On some occasions, I do my own makeup, but really, it seems to me that only the Evergirls care if they notice at all. These days, I've been fond of whipped beetroot tinctures and orchid cologne. Then, I arrange my hair, dress suitably for the day's activities in whichever clothes I pressed the night before, and polish my boots. I polish Rafal's too. He doesn't notice or care—thinks we're immune to disease and scrutiny—but he's missing the point. It's about image, of course. And I worry that he'll bring bird mites from his Stymphs indoors, and that would not only be unseemly for a School Master, but a disaster of inordinate proportions, even if our health isn't at risk. Think of the parent complaints we'd receive, if we had an infestation. The picket-lines would never end!

When I head out, Rafal's almost always still asleep, so I bring us back breakfast, and wake him then.

Well, I say "wake him," but rousing him isn't as simple as I've likely led you to believe. By now, it's turned into an awfully elaborate burlesque. I switch mirror channels to the Jaunt Jolie Music Hall's Cricket and Brass orchestra production of the day. If that fails, I bang a ladle on our breakfast's silver cloche over him. And if all else fails, I shout "FIRE," "INVASION," or even "PIRATES" if I'm desperate and running late, and that does the trick. I still haven't figured out if he's been deluding me though, or if it's his dreams that leave him with those horrid little grins.

Yet, this particular song-and-dance of sorts has been more of a recent development. His clarion-belled alarm clock from Geppetto's broke last month, and he hasn't had the time to replace it. The flight's a day's trip, and this new class of Nevers cannot be left alone for more than a day because he's sure there'll be either an outbreak of some pox or of some general pandemonium since he doesn't think I'm capable of maintaining order. I'm more than capable in truth.

We eat then, he in his pajama shorts and shirt and black stockings with the runs I chastise him about throwing out everyday, and me in my typical smart attire.

At the end, I wash up, sit, and wait for him to set the dishes to scrubbing themselves, comb his hair, and dress. After that, we split off to our respective sides for the day, and I see him again at dusk.

"Bye." or "Morning, brother." is as talkative as he gets at this time of day before he vanishes into the Tunnel of Trees or crosses the Halfway Bridge into the smog, unless he has a storybook victory to congratulate himself over or another point to bolster his side of an argument with—arguments I naively believed we'd already put to bed the night before.

After a full day of overseeing classes, Rafal legs it over the window sill when he returns and showers immediately when he gets back. Then, he grades papers and exams. On days when he's exhausted by puppeteering mock battle raids or Storian knows what he subjects those poor children to, he passes out in bed fully-clothed without showering, and showers in the morning.

All the while, I perform my nightly skin- and hair care routines, snuff out the candles, and get in bed with an eye mask, in my attempt to get a good night's sleep, often sooner than he goes to bed because he reads news updates and whatever musty tome he's tearing through late into the night.

Sometimes, I wake in the middle of a night terror and realize he's still up marking or reading or scheming, so I confiscate the candles at that point and force him to sleep. Rarely does he listen, and I've stopped bothering most of the time as he reads by the light of his fingerglow instead, contrary to all sound advice. He doesn't view sleep as necessary seeing as the Storian sustains us, but he has no sleep troubles, so I suppose that's an easy conclusion to form if you're him. The latest remedy I've resorted to is tucking lavender into my pillowcase, but I've had not a drop of luck.

[silverior968]

Tfp gijinkas (1/4) Dad squad (aka I binged a childhood favorite show in 3 days and the special interest won) Zoom in to the image for more details (especially the faces, that's where I put the most details)

Next post

[Image ID: A character sheet with two characters on it. On the left side is a human version of Optimus Prime from Transformers Prime. He's tall and muscular with tan skin and blue-tinted black hair that is visibly grayed. His hair is around shoulder-length and tied into a short ponytail with a red hairtie. His expression is neutral and his eyes are dark blue. There are several scars on his face and hands, and the lines on his face show his age. He is wearing a black turtleneck, a red, cropped bomber-style jacket with white lining and a blue autobots logo embroidered on the left shoulder, blue trousers with gray patches and dark blue combat boots with black soles. He has two swords holstered on his back with connected shoulder-holsters. Placed around him are character design notes, reading as follows: "I turned his eye notches into scars - at first I thought of eyeliner but it didn't feel right". "I tried to simultaneously give him the vibes of a hands-on leader, a father figure and a dignified man in his twilight years - and I have no idea if I succeeded!". "I made both him and Ratchet appear somewhere in their 50s." "He accidentally ended up looking a lot like my design of Anton Shudder". "Making an outfit for him was tough because as a kid I thought his design made him look like he was wearing a cropped jacket and denim short-shorts. But I can't have him fighting decepticons in that, think of the asphalt burns! It was hard to unthink that, though". A tiny version of the Sonic the Hedgehog "my fucking god! these bitches gay! Good for them, good for them!" -meme is placed to his right. On the right side of the page is a human version of Ratchet from the same franchise. He's a stocky white man with pale skin and a few freckles here and there, but not many. His hair is mostly white, with some ginger streaks still visible. It is short and somewhat spiky near the back. He also has sideburns, a beard with no moustache and thick eyebrows. He looks grouchy and he has several facial scars and his face is lined. His eyes are cyan. He's wearing a red-and-white uniform, reminiscent of a first responder's outfit. It consists of a zip-up jacket, a thicker jacket on top, trousers, gloves and boots. The zip-up is white with a red zipper, and the jacket has four pockets and is mostly red with white shoulders and sleeves with heartbeat-reminiscent patterns. The jacket also has a white belt. The trousers are white with similar red stripes. The entire outfit has reflective stripes. The boots are mostly white with red heels and soles, and metal-enforced toes. He's holding a scalpel in one hand. There's a red autobots logo on his jackets over his heart. The design notes around him read as follows "He needs a strong nosebrideg because he's going to be pinching it a lot." "He came out looking like a middle-aged Roskilde paramedic named something like "Fredrik" or "Søren" who claims to have Manchester Orchestra as his favorite band (which isn't entirely false but) spends more time listening to ABBA and Radical Face." "Reflective stripes - safety first!". A meme with the text "Dad: doesn't want dog. Family: gets dog anyways. dad and dog:" and a picture of a man and a dog grilling. /end ID]

[hoshinierabareshimono]

Audentes Fortuna Iuvat

@hiislegacy

With a selection of exquisite beverages and delicacies, and an enchanting performance of Midgar’s finest orchestra, the reception hosted to celebrate Genesis’ ascension to the rank of a First Class SOLDIER was nothing to sneer at.

Albeit not as fancy as the celebrations hosted for Sephiroth as well as a – in Genesis’ most humble opinion – transparent ploy to generate further publicity for the SOLDIER program and the company in its whole, Genesis chose to relish it as a decent personal victory in its own right.

Clad in a bespoke black silk suit with a burgundy tie and handkerchief that accentuated his refined physique and immaculate complexion, Genesis was quick to captivate the eyes and hearts of his audience as he delivered his promotion speech with just the right amount of rhetorical embellishments and graceful gestures.

Many of the journalists, dignitaries, and common guests invited may not have known his name prior to that day, yet Genesis was confident that he had made a lasting impression on each and every one of them.

It was but a matter of time until the whispers about his rapid progress within the SOLDIER program would morph into hymns of praise for Sephiroth’s one and only equal.

As the evening progressed and Genesis had fulfilled his official duties, his elation made way for a creeping sense of ennui, soon prompting him to politely excuse himself from further vacuous chit-chat.

What he sought from those assembled, after all, was an audience, not companionship. Art could not exist in a vacuum, and yet, it was the artist alone who conceived and gave mere concepts shape in accordance with his design, be it on page, a canvas or a merciless battlefield.

Having slipped away through the nearest backdoor, he was not surprised to find Sephiroth avoiding the. For all his fame, Sephiroth seemed to hold little appreciation for his numerous worshipers.

“So, the great hero Sephiroth was in attendance after all,” he greeted his soon-to-be-equal in more than rank with a confident smirk and an exaggerated bow. “I’m honored.”

Although he was not in the habit of breaching protocol, they were off-duty now and Genesis was neither a bootlicker nor an awe-struck coward failing to act on his new privileges.

“Gil for your thoughts?” he asked, and just like that, where there had been playful mockery mere moments before, there was a conspiratorial glint in his eyes instead.

[esouliie]

epitome of art | immortal she.

(ballerina!natasha x reader)

summary | You had known her before she was the Black Widow…when she was just Natalia… the ballerina who had stolen your heart.

notes | here is part 1 of epitome of art. i was going to post this tomorrow but was feeling generous. also, count how many times i use ‘gaze’. without further ado, leave a like, comment & reblog. enjoy! :)

word count | 2.4K

You first hear about her in the local newspaper.

Carelessly flicking through the print before being greeted by an overwhelming ripple of colour. An entire page dedicated to the infamous Alianova Ballet Company of Russia. The company was the most well-known in Europe. There was no high-profile event where they didn’t perform or weren’t invited.

Like most ballet companies, there were more women than men. They all stood tall in a line upon a stage, clad in their tutus. Each and every face was more beautiful than the last as your gaze scans over the large photograph.

However, her gracious features draw your attention. Her eyes were the blue-green of mountain lakes, with tones that could share tales of sky and evergreen giants. Her braided hair sunk past her shoulders and fell to her waist. as she stood at the end next to a blonde woman, shorter than her by no more than two inches. Both smiled gracefully as their hands folded over one another.

You didn’t think much of it for a moment, gliding over the words beneath the two, but you can't seem to help yourself and your gaze returns to the photograph.

Natalia Romanova -The Prima Ballerina of Russia.

--

A week later, you find yourself outside the theatre hosting Alianova Company’s Swan Lake. The front of the building is lit from within, casting a soft glow over the massive posters hung from nearby. You had never before seen a ballet. Despite all of the other girls in your classes growing up, you never had a ballet phase, preferring to play soccer and volleyball instead.

Inside was just as magnificent. Plush royal blue velvet covers every surface - all the seats, the floors, the stage curtains - matched in grandeur by gold trim and soft lighting around the tiers. The ceiling above you is arched and golden, with lights glistening around the dome. As you gaze around the theatre in awe, you notice people fill their seats from either side of you. Within a few minutes, the lights dim and the orchestra begins to play.

It was nothing like you expected, all flawless grace and long lines. Having never danced before, you were enthralled by the dancers' elegant movements, the fluidity of their limbs and the powerful leaps across the stage. The dancers possessed the ability to morph time and defy gravity it seems.

Thirty minutes easily slip by before four swans take the stage. You lean forward in your seat, glancing over the balcony for a wider view. The ballerinas move in unison, their arms crossed over one another. Their light pink tutus, illuminated in a swirl of rainbow hues, bounce as their ribbon-tied ankles push their body fluently off the ground.

As wonderful as all the performers were, something about Natalia captures your attention the most.

Despite the fact that the dance is one of synchronism, your eyes follow only her. From your high seat, she dances as if it were the only way her body knew how to speak, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, telling a story in a way that speech alone could never achieve.

Bewitched, you fail to register the other swans join the stage.

An anomaly- a prince- glides towards the redhead.

Except for a stray curl that tumbles delicately over his brow, his short, dark hair remains in place. His emotive eyes were the colour of a cloudless sky seen through a broken prison wall, of a perfect raindrop on a blue poppy, of a river racing to join the great ocean.

The audience vibrates as the performance transitions to a duet between Natalia and the prince. She floats through the air and twirls effortlessly in a serenity the audience craves. The prince summons his strength as he lifts her above his head. The dance between them exudes intimacy, a tug-of-war between the two lovers. Strings of classical music speak to parts of the brain that predate language, stirring the deepest part of the soul.

The music thickens.

Their sensuality entwines before bursting into the most vibrant colours. The strings eventually fade and the curtains close as he runs off stage and she collapses gracefully into herself.

Time seems to lose you as the audience’s eruption breaks you free from a trance. The curtain moves to reveal the cast running onto the stage. Natalia will be back to accept her much deserved adulation. All the swans await with grace before the prince and the swan appear.

The audience grows louder as waves of roses were thrown at the ballerina, narrowly missing her as they landed at the front of the stage. Her stoic demeanour had vanished, and she was smiling freely. You can tell by the scarlet flush on her cheeks and the heaving of her chest.

She was the epitome of art.

You couldn’t help but clap and add to uproar. She graces you with a few more seconds in her presence before she leads the dancers off the stage. The curtains close for the final time tonight and you exhale a deep breath you weren't aware you were. Subtle tears fall from your lashes, the salt greeting the smile upon your lips.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Your seated neighbour innocently asks, having stood up to put her long coat on.

“Yeah.” You answer in a daze. Memories of the night replaying through your mind. Anything to see the Prima again.

The woman smirks, her palm finding perch on your forearm. “Natalia manages to leave everyone stunned. It’s her superpower as Russia’s Prima Ballerina.”

You had only just noticed the woman’s Russian accent. Whipping your heard in her direction, you spot blonde curls- the colour oddly familiar - disappear into the crowd leaving the auditorium.

The Russian Prima. Natalia Romanova.

No wonder her dance provoked such immeasurable feelings you’d never felt before. You ached for the ballerina; to feel the ripples of hard muscle beneath her soft skin, to trail your lips over the vast expanse of her ivory skin, to weave your fingers through her red curls and pull, pull, pull.

You burned for Natalia.

That was the last time you saw her.

---

Years later, after graduating college with high honours, you land an interview to intern for Tony Stark – the infamous Iron Man – at SHIELD. Working for them meant you’d be in close proximity with the Avengers. Not that you pay them much attention, Iron Man was the only hero you needed.

The philanthropist was your idol. Being a tech-nerd yourself, you had looked up to him since you could remember, and when you heard about this incredible opportunity, you knew you had to take it.

There were no specifications for the job. For all you knew, you would be made his personal assistant, and you’d accept without hesitation.

The day comes sooner than you'd like, but you're prepared. Your bedroom walls are covered in disorderly piles of notes and post-it notes containing rehearsed interview responses. You wanted this more than anything. Even as you stood in front of the mirror, pulling on a tailor-fitted, slimming skirt suit you had purchased specifically for this interview, new answers continued unabated.

You looked good. Really good.

With curls that conceal your chest, your fingers fluff at your roots before sweeping the tresses over your shoulders. You were nothing if not keenly aware of your appearance and its impact on others. 

SHIELD was a large organisation, and while intelligence was favoured, image could always be used to one's advantage, particularly when dealing with men. You'd learned from previous interviews with large corporations that there was very little to lose and a lot to gain by flaunting your appeal.

It's not so much what patriarchy does to you but rather what it can do for you.

You left an hour before the interview starts, easily participating city traffic at this time in the morning. You were lucky enough to hail a cab right outside your apartment complex. You shift nervously in the back of the car, reviewing some last-minute information on Earth's greatest heroes.

Normal looking faces stare back at you, with simple information written underneath.

Product of War.

Billionaire.

Scientist.

Norse God.

Archer.

What you found most intriguing was one of the heroes didn’t have a photo. An agent known as The Black Widow had the littlest information.

No background history, no accolades, no picture.

Just a name.

The anonymity of this individual perplexes you, but as the taxi turned onto Park Avenue, the sight of Stark Tower in the distance snaps you back to reality.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, you weave your way through the throngs of people toward the revolving glass. Having practiced walking in heels - something you had never worn until you started job hunting - you manage to make it in one piece. The inside was nothing like the hectic streets of 7am New York.

As you approach the only desk on the open floor, your heels click loudly, drawing the attention of the elderly lady behind it.  

“Good morning, I’m here for a meeting with Mr Stark.”

“What’s the name?” The woman asks.

“Y/N L/N.”

“Oh yes, our newest intern.” She beams.

"Hopefully." You laugh politely, not wanting to jinx your chance before even meeting your potential boss. You should never count your chickens before the eggs hatch... or something along those lines.

“Right, Mr Stark is expecting you.” She places the phone back in its holder.

Since when did she call-?

The receptionist gestures to the lift on the right. “Top floor. You won’t miss it.”

The rumble of business men entering the building startles the silence. You rush towards the lift, not wanting to share it with anyone.

The ride was nothing short of terrifying. Constantly on edge someone was going to step in and you’d have to engage in small talk, or the fact that the Tony Stark was awaiting your arrival.

Fortunately, no one called for the elevator, and you were on the top floor in no time. The doors slide open to reveal a woman with long blonde hair. She introduces herself as Pepper – Stark’s personal assistant - and she’s been instructed to lead you towards his office.

No other words are exchanged between you both. The door to the office creeps into view. Excitedly, you’re already opening it before remembering to knock.

“Come in.” A voice bellows from within, and you’re forced to take a deep breath before proceeding.

“Oh, it’s you!” You cheeks immediately warm under the man’s gaze. Pepper entering behind you forces you deeper into the spacious room, and the door click shuts.

No turning back now.

Tony Stark rises, working his way towards you, his hand already extended for you to take.

You grasp it confidently. “It’s such an honour to meet you, sir. I’m such a huge fan of your work. I know everything about you.”

You fumbled. Practice composure flew straight out the window in the first minute. You shouldn't be surprised if passers-by noticed your flushed cheeks from down there.

Mr Stark’s laugh puts an end to your self - deprecation as he pats your hand, which is still grasped in his. “That’s good to know.”

He doesn't let go. His other hand presenting the the white sofa across from his large mahogany desk. It’s you that ends the contact.

The sofa feels like silk underneath your fingertips. It most likely costs more than your entire apartment. He returns to his chair and gives you a knowing look. He must have flustered woman fawning over him every day. You look around the room, avoiding eye contact. Pepper was now nowhere to be seen.

“I see you’ve just graduated. Bachelors in Computer Science. MIT.” He reads aloud from your resume.

Getting into MIT, was no small feat. You had worked your ass off throughout high school and even gave away all your free time to volunteer at your local soup kitchen. No doubt you struggled immensely, putting your mental health on the back burner for years, but you persevered and were proud of your accomplishments thus far.

"Well, I can't think of anyone more perfect. You've got it, kid.” Those words leave you breathless. Your lungs refusing to take in oxygen.

You couldn't have gotten the internship that easily. All that time, spent on perfecting your answers to impress the billionaire, was for naught.

“W-what? You don’t even want to ask any questions…? Why am I interested in the internship…? What do I want to do in the future…? What makes me think I'm a good fit for SHIELD?"

Stark snorts and leans back, his heels resting on the desk. The man was clearly amused to have left you so dumbstruck. “No, I know everything I need to.”

The words barely register, the goosebumps having frozen your body stiff, your palms rooted to plush sofa. Your eyes sting as you take in more light than usual.

He sighs, shuffling in his seat. "However, I'm sorry to admit that the internship isn't exactly what you anticipated.”

Confusion is written across your face, and your brow wrinkles as panic fills your chest. Your heartbeat running too fast for your body to keep up with.

If the internship with Stark wasn’t what you applied for then what did you apply for? Too many thoughts race through your mind, each one making less and less sense.

“You won’t be working for me.” He clarifies.

Your mind goes quiet.

He reaches for a desk button. “Pepper, call her in.”

The distant ding of the elevator, accompanied by slow footfalls, reaches your ears. The other door, positioned to the right of Mr Stark’s desk, opens and a tall woman glides through. Red hair cascades in a heavy braid over her shoulder, obstructing her face from your view. Well- muscled arms and legs clad in a leather suit carry her towards Stark.

“Red.” He acknowledges her before nodding his head towards you.

She spins in your direction.

Blue-green.

Heavy braid.

You were lost for words, unable to turn away.

Once again, time is lost to you. How similar it is to water; both can pass slowly, a single drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by without notice.

Her gaze sweeps over you, her face expressionless as she reads you. Her body so still, so poised, that you're not sure if she's breathing. Full red lips sit in contrast to her fair skin. Her eyes remain as stone. Pain seeps thought the cracks. They're blue-green, but not as bright as you remember.

Still, she’s as beautiful as the first time you saw her.

Natalia Romanova.

“Instead, you'll be working for Red over here, and I'm guessing from your expression that you have no clue who she is.”

Russia’s Prima Ballerina.

“She’s the Black Widow.”

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