#but aaaa it got away from me

[sinnabee]

You do moons ass Mondays right

so do suns ass Sundays

your wish is my command, anon

everyone say hello to sun ass sunday. but of course, as the rule goes... suns out? guns out. >:3c

i will be barring the castle doors and fortifying my defenses in preparation for the uprising, but no, i am not sorry for this

[gingermintpepper]

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[toriliashine]

need mastermind kokichi and gonta going mwah mwah

the angel/demon theming working together perfectly, matching the mask/reveal scene in chapter 4 only to reveal they were working together the whole time

the mind games, the clashing personalities and bodies yet melding perfectly together, in despair and in love, it's like

they were made for each other...

//on to notes like

**i am now also BEGGING YALL to read the tags

i'm still working on the designs but i know i have some drafts here hmm

>for their mastermind fits, i'm thinking gonta being all white , with his hair being more curled and really framing his face for that angelic round-faced look, plus his ahoge making a little halo to really top it off. one eye of his glasses are red for monokuma. with a black choker . nice fancy 3 piece suit that really accentuate his muscles, giving the image that he's not someone to mess with despite his angelic demeanor and damn, he looks good in it too plus an all white , n gold/red accented overcoat! letting the boy be dramatic and fancy and beautiful 2k24.

*more notes at bottom

kokichi's fit is a sleek, sharp black. but still comfortable to move and store things in. He can still be silly and dramatic in it but It's be really cool for his new fit to be purposefully cold, controlled and intimidating , a good contrast from his usual clownness to really grab their attention. //need to explain this one to be an 'oh! he was doing that to distract us' but more... oomf . hm He has a a white glove, and a black one to draw more attention to the former. black captain hat with devil horns, or just the horns? hm. plus the black cape for the demon bat silhouette. inside is one of those cool n kinda slutty but loose all black formal fits, like (ahhh i need to get pack into drawing or outfit scrapbooking but imagine with me)

**** gonta's black choker and kokichi's white gloves is supposed to a) show their connection via the colours lol. but also represent a dog on a leash deal. however gonta can take off and on the choker when he pleases, showing his willingness and equal choice in this operation despite it seeming like ouma has the upper hand [plus feeding into the 'ouma is controlling him!' schtick their classmates got going on, thus making them suspect him less and not believe him and kokichi are purposefully working together! boom baby

also, the kink factor. hehe

**** i do wonder if i should cave and make them both wear chokers matching the other's colour though. i like chokers , and colour symbolism

[forceblinded]

@alootus / some meme i can't find anymore 🥴: [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

She can't recall when last she shed any tears over this man, or the personalised torture he's exposed her to. In truth, she's begun thinking herself insensitive to it; numb to the lashes of his whip. It was the only way to shoulder the constant threat not only her life is under, but the precious few loved ones she has left.

And despite that, she simmers in the guilt she feels for putting those very same people in danger. Her own life she holds in low regard these days — she's expendable and needs no protection, but her family? Her parents, her brother, the innocents in the equation they've been inserted into? She's responsible for the repercussions they might suffer for her refusal to hand herself over to Arkken.

So she considers it for the first time, really considers it. Keldra already paid for her dogged determination with her life, and that's one person too many in Rein's eyes already. She can't push herself to ponder the matter with more feeling — at least not any feeling other than frustration, anger, even. If she does that, she'll never recover from it. She knows that much, at least.

But the alternative isn't much better. She's watching herself slide down a slippery slope now, leaning into the perception that it's solely injustice she's found in this life of late, and for what? What purpose does it serve, refusing to 'stoop to his level' — refusing to take the fight to him, to end it once and for all, one way or another ( either by letting the arms of her ire sweep her away at the expense of his life and her dedication to being good, or by losing that fight, and surrendering to his will )?

The Jedi mires in her doubt for minutes, or perhaps even hours — long enough to dissolve her resolution to never again shed a single tear for him and the hurt he's dealt her. She thinks of her demise, whether in the literal or figurative sense, for the price she'll have had to pay for it. No matter which path she takes, her current form of stasis is unviable; she must move in some direction and end his reign of terror over her once and for all.

Rein is sat there, kneeling along the edge from the waterfall-dotted outcrop overlooking the spaceport. She thought listening to the ships coming in and departing again would provide her with some tranquillity by means of distraction, but she's had no such fortune.

Instead, in the pit of unfiltered emotion where her repose should sit, she finds only more of the former — and notwithstanding her resolve to abolish her sorrow especially, it's precisely that which returns with a vengeance. It washes over her like a wave across the shore at high tide, and in this moment, where she thinks herself alone, she sheds a tear.

And then another, another, another — and then a sob, try as she might to mute it.

She recognises the depth of her downward spiral only once a hand on her shoulder startles her out of it abruptly. Her left forearm hastily dries her eyes and her unfocussed gaze instantly falls from the source of said touch — jarring as it is. She feels a fool for appearing this way in front of the senator of all people. Was she not meant to be the picture of composure, circumstances be damned?

Self-chastisement aside, there is one thing Rein can't deny: she welcomes the approach, the broaching of her otherwise carefully guarded personal space. So she doesn't shirk the subtle squeeze to her shoulder; doesn't even try to get up. She even feels an urge to lean in towards it, somehow, but she remains still instead, kneeling still. Her eyes shut as she straightens her posture, facing the spaceport far below and ahead of her. ❛  I'm sorry, senator. I didn't think you'd find me here. I just ... needed a moment. A long one, I suppose.  ❜

[bookshelfpassageway]

me, rereading Hunters Unlucky: wow it's so cool these are clearly animals and different from us and could not even comprehend us

me, on my furry hell spiral: draw redwall au anthro ferryshaft i wanna see Coden and Arcove fight with swords and cool cloaks and crowns

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

Eurovision 2023 has begun and I’m too hyped to go to bed so now I’m thinking about a hannibal eurovision au!!!

like for hannibal we have 2 main possibilities:

hannibal and his weird suits and harpsichord representing lithuania (or maybe even italy) - lyricless acts aren’t allowed so I think he’d sing lowly in that slightly monotonous but really captivating way some people do and he’d be one of the favourite acts because his voice is really hot lol (he sings in lithuanian/italian of course)

hannibal as the perfect charming well-dressed host (alana and chilton as co-hosts?? both hannibal and alana being visibly repelled by chilton, who is horribly cheesy and trying way too hard, and also trying desperately and very not smoothly to promote his new single despite being a washed up talent show one hit wonder who was last relevant in like. 2008 lol. by the end of the night chilton has ‘unfortunately suffered an accident’ and is no longer able to host) (which country is this and if it’s lithuania why are alana and chilton hosts? shh)

also host!hannibal has a thing for performer!will and tries his best not to let it show because he’s kind of supposed to be impartial to the acts but he’s terrible at hiding it and all the commentators and the internet are laughing at him for the whole event

for will it’s a little harder because the us isn’t in eurovision so he’d either have to represent the uk (bc hugh) or perhaps maybe even france (bc louisiana, also I believe hugh speaks french anyway) or we could take many creative liberties and set this au in a world where the us does compete for some reason!

if he’s an act, it’s probably an underdog act bc I can’t imagine will doing any kind of promotion before the competition haha (whatever his act is it’s probably dark and edgy. unless this is slutty evil will, in which case it’s still something dark but the lighting is blood red and the whole thing is quite sexual)

(will sings every sexual/innuendo line while staring directly at hannibal. he even sings a particularly descriptive line in lithuanian. someone in the audience catches hannibal’s expression. it becomes a meme)

he could also be one of hannibal’s backing singers/dancers?

or a stage hand/tech guy who finds hannibal killing chilton a guy backstage lol

jack is the executive supervisor of eurovision/will’s longsuffering pr guy/manager who scouted will for the competition but is starting to deeply regret it (rip)

beverly, jimmy and brian are will’s co-performers or his entourage/supporters (beverly to support will, price because he gets to go to eurovision and zeller because price dragged him along)

etc etc this is so silly but I kind of love it

[okaioh]

I miss playing hsr - im about to dedicate all 24 hours today to finally get grinding through the penacony quest 💪

[causenessus]

ummm I ran out of tag space again and I even had to delete a tag so I could put this in my favorites 😭 I WAS NOT DONE TALKING BUT TUMBLR HAS SILENCED ME BUT RAHH THIS IS SO GOOD I'M SO EXCITED FOR IT!!!

GET BACK INTRODUCTIONS: hinata support group

masterlist

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE

kawa (14:14:43): can't believe ur leaving south america kawa (14:15:23): beautiful south america smh kawa (14:15:55): listening to one beer....our song...dont u remember

extras!

hinata's delusional <3

he understands that yn might be mad at him but thinks that one good healthy talk will have them picking up where they left off

kageyama was asked to help but he said "who's yn"

they were not super close in high school lmafo

situation was worse than everyone thought they all assumed they had maintained some sort of communication from how optimistic hinata is

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @ujisworld @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @guitarstringed-scars @ahdbodhr @nbcvs @garfieldissocool @shoyobub @iheartpinky @choerry-picking @mollyrolls @yogurtkags @yuminako @rockleeisbaeeee @michivrse @19calicos @bailey-reeds @staileykout @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @loveelylacey @atsumuenthusiast @alpha-mommy69 @acowboykisser @milesmoralesluvs @3lectraheart (temporarily opening the taglist overnight, closing it again the morning, fill out this form to be added, it is the only way to be added)

[ariahime]

i’ve decided when i’ll come back but i get the feeling around that time, i might get busy with works so hopefully i can try come back to writing on tumblr.

[kyaruun]

have i ever mentioned my project management professor is a sweetheart and the moment he found out i have an interest in art he started asking to see my doodles. and then he showed me his art insta and nnnnn HE'S SO SUPPORTIVE. artist, (casual) videogame developer,, really, everything i want to be <3

i might as well show him acanthe mika and pray he doesn't ask where the design came from ahaha

[b1rds3ye]

AAAA i loved that 141 + masked reader one!! omg you're filling my head with mask ideas now...

what if reader had one of those LED masks that showed different facial expressions? just walking around going ":D" ":]" "^-^" "?" ">:(" as a substitute of their real expressions. omfg imagine them coming back from a mission and price is praising them on their work or smth and they just hit him with the "uwu"

I'm glad so many people are liking the prompt, I had a lot of fun with it too!! This is very much giving me Watch Dogs 2 Wrench but also Rina Tennoji omg there are so many legendary masked characters-

The rest of the 141 were confused at first. While the mask provided anonymity, there was also the benefit of hiding facial information to an enemy. But now with these LEDs your emotions could be read like an open book, but ultimately they found it endearing.

Soap in particular loves your mask. Johnny loves surprising you to generate "!"s over the eyes and finds himself smiling every time your mask switches to a new emotion. As demolition expert, he prides himself over the one time he got you so riled up that an error message flashed across your mask. He's also genuinely curious about the mask and will gladly try to help if there are any technical difficulties or if you want a hardware upgrade. He's also the most unnerved out of the 141 if you ever turn the LEDs off, immediately by your side to comfort you as he can no longer read your mood.

Gaz doesn't often provoke you but he does find himself snickering whenever your expressions change from others. It's also an easy way for Kyle to keep track of how you're feeling, even when no one's around your mask automatically goes ";-;" when you're feeling down and he'll check up on you. Whenever he does make a joke though, he's immediately looking to your mask to see if someone will appreciate his humour. He also wishes you turned off your mask more during missions, the little angry face your mask makes isn't intimidating in the slightest and he can't risk getting distracted cooing over you during an op.

Ghost is very curious. Your own mask has him wondering if his own needs a bit of an upgrade - perhaps an LED skull mask with a moving lower jaw. Simon's heart warms up a bit at how you've picked a mask that's still so comically expressive, he enjoys interacting with someone that's so upfront with their emotions. He won't admit it but he finds it cute how your mask goes "-_-" whenever he says one of his horrendous "military humour" jokes. He's considerate of your mask and ensures that there is no water or liquids nearby.

Price's first concern was practicality (how the hell were you going to use night-vision?) but once the mask seems to work without a hitch, he now checks on your mask to not only gauge your mood but as a visual indicator of the overall atmosphere among the rest of the task force. You're now his favourite person to praise. He doesn't give it freely of course, but most of his subordinates will try to hide their smiles as they glow under his praise as they keep up their tough soldier persona. You though? The sudden "! o !" and then consequential "^_^" as you walk away with a hop in your step is probably the sweetest thing he's seen in his entire military career.

It's all fun and games until you turn off the LEDs - usually done in dark/covert missions or when you're interrogating the enemy. That's when you're truly unreadable, a masked terror. As you eliminate enemies in close combat the last thing they will see is their own face contorted into absolute terror as it is faintly reflected like a memory against the bottomless darkness of your visor.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[roquenxnar]

As they spoke, the Sentinel moved toward one of the many fireplaces, pulling his gauntlets off and setting them aside before holding his hands up to the flames, eyes drifting half-shut as he watched the flames dancing in the hearth. He glanced over his shoulder, idle smile becoming sad as he listened to the other. "You say that as if we are not in the same situation," he said, turning back to Solas— both out of respect, and to warm his backside. "I saw how the other Sentinels looked at me, when they first awoke; and I felt the weight of my years when I climbed this mountain of yours. I am not sure how long it will be, but…" His voice grew quiet, for a moment, lips drawing thin.

"If they do not remember, we will simply have to remind them. Oh, it might be difficult, but I will spend however long the All-Mother is willing to give me to teach. It was Sil who encouraged me to help train young Sentinels, you know— said that someone ought to be willing to be a kind teacher… one who was willing to wait for results. We will have to do the same— though I suspect you have got longer to wait than I."

Myndilon's lips curled into a small frown, though, as he listened to what sounded dangerously close to heresy. But… better to give this Solas the benefit-of-the-doubt. They were each, after all, likely alone in the world. "The service of a Sentinel is not for everyone. I certainly did not take my oaths lightly; better to wait until you know you can fulfill them, or serve her purpose in other ways. Still, it is a shame you were not able to visit sooner." His mind wandered, for just a moment, and he shook his head quickly. "T-to pay your respects, of course!" Not because the old Sentinel had, over his many years, been terribly lonely— certainly not.

He coughed into his shoulder, and looked down. "Even after remaining awake for so long, I find myself overwhelmed by… this." He gestured around the cavernous hall. "I can only imagine what went through your mind when you first arrived."

~ The true direness of their situation had not seem to hit Myndilon -- and Solas was not sure now was the best time to convince him that the world (and their people) as they knew it was long gone. Perhaps the Sentinel was simply in denial after being presented with such shocking news. ~

~ " The other elves among us now are our mortal descendants; they remember next to nothing of our history, twisting fiction into fact. We are the only Elvhen in Skyhold... ". Solas tilts his head slightly as Myndilon mentions his family. " ...How many years ago did they depart? " He supposed it was possible she could still yet live, but...his gut told him otherwise. As the topic quickly shifts to that of the so-called gods, Solas's expression visibly sours. ~

~ " I did not serve the Evanuris, " he answers flatly. " ...But I was loyal to Mythal, long ago. I hope that will allow me to find common ground among her other Sentinels, in time... ". He and the old man had most certainly crossed paths when he served as Mythal's right hand -- but that had been when Solas was much younger. " ...I visited her Temple from time to time. Perhaps we met there, " he added. Without fully understanding the other elf's loyalties, it would be unwise to reveal himself as the Dread Wolf now. " ...After the sundering, I slept in uthenera, weathering the ages. I awoke only a year ago, and have been attempting to gather our remaining people ever since. " ~

[r0-boat]

Feast fit for a king(s)

Whb!Beelzebub x Gn!reader x Bael

Cw: double penetration, over stimulation, mentions of Beel x Bael.

Sorry for the silence for a couple of days This is what I was working on! Aaaa

You're supposed to be in Abyssos for sightseeing however Beelzebub had other things in mind for you. At a 5 Star hotel in Abyssos famous for luxurious exciting fun and sexual themes It was a hotspot for lovers too 'rest and relax' well they have a little fun whether it be in bed or down at the lobby to gamble, play games and drink till their hearts content.

You were in bed in the nicest suite Beelzebub has gotten, naked as the day you were born Your body sore from the amount of bite marks and bruises Your legs even more so. And there he was the man who did this to you laying in bed smoking a cigarette. It was almost comical how full of energy he was. Hugging into your soft pillow you glanced at him as he reached for a pamphlet with the menu of the food That can be brought up to the room. You would hate that man if he wasn't so darn cute.

Just then the hotel door burst open, guessing that Beel forgot to lock the door You scramble to cover your body while Beelzebub didn't bother He smiled "Bael! What a pleasant surprise!"

There he was the fake king and advisor for Abyssos He was pissed off and exhausted from trying to locate Beel whereabouts he finally got a lead on this location.

"YOU!" He yelled pointing at the king who was now standing out of bed naked with a cat like smirk holding up his hands as he was caught red-handed, looks like he wasn't going to escape this time... "I'VE BEEN LOOKING-" He choked on his words when he saw you peeking out of the blanket your bare chest barely visible. "!! You-! Oh dear I'm-" finally his brain connected the dots both you and his king are naked in bed together He flushed red tearing his eyes away from you. Looking at the scene of his dear friend and normally straight lace subordinate fall apart at the mere sight of your naked body an idea came into his mind.

He knew just how big Bael crush on you was, all demons in Abyssos wanted you but Bael... He had it bad. And what kind of friend would he be if he didn't give him a little 'push'

"come now my dear brother." He said in a sing-song tone a tone that made Bael narrow his eyes. "You didn't miss anything, why don't you come join us?"

Your eyes widen at his suggestion, after he just drilled you into the mattress?!

"Beelzebub!" You silently shrieked to get his attention. You don't even think you could even walk right now how the fuck can you take more?!

But your protest came on deaf ears.

"relax delicious it's not for me" He crawls onto the bed removing the sheets from your hands, he grabs you by the waist lifting you up pressing your back against his chest.

His hands slide under to play with your now naked parts your body still sensitive from your previous actions.

Beelzebub was masturbating you in front of Bael! Bael's looked hesitant but his eyes were trained on you. Bael looked just as hungry as the king of gluttony touching you, Your legs shook threatening to close but he held them still. You wanted to protest, but Beelzebub's skilled fingers was making your mind melt.

"come on, Bael. You must be tired. You came all this way here. Why don't you 'rest'?" His words husky, thick, and smooth like molasses as his fingers continue to play with you, slowly stroking every part of you, occasionally pressing into your hole to tease Bael. Your cute little whimpers as you were too sensitive and tired to hold them back. You can tell the teasing was working, seeing the tight bulge in Bael's pants.

Bael gave in. Demons cannot resist temptation after all; his eyes half, half-lit and full of lust, made your heart leap out of your stomach as he slowly stalked closer to you. Bael took over as Beel stopped touching you. Bael's hands replaced his; his breath was shaky as he lay down to kiss you. His kiss was messy and full of desire, kissing you more and more feverishly as he began ripping off his own clothes, no longer caring about what he was supposed to be doing before; all that mattered was having you right here, right now.

Beel not wanting to be left out on all the fun lean down and kissed your neck. Now with two hands on either side of your legs he holds you open for Bael to lower his head down.

You are falling apart in their arms, Your whole body shuttered, whimpering and moaning as you felt Bael tongue against your hole.

Beel smiled, moving his hands to spread you further apart for his friend to 'eat' you.

One taste, and he was addicted, pressing his entire face against you, eager to tongue fuck you.

"taste good, right?" Beel said Bael could only moan in agreement, not wanting apart from you for even a second.

You thought just Beelzebub's tongue was long. You threw your head back as you felt Bael's tongue begin to worm inside you, long and flexible as it was eager to go deeper.

As if Beelzebub read your mind his voice tickled your ear.

"All demons in Abyssos have long tongues, Long tongues means more to taste."

You came. Bucking your hips against Bael's face as you grab onto his 'crown.' His eyes rolled back as you come on his tongue; it's been so long since he had tasted cum; it's been so long since he had been touched. He couldn't help but cum with you, his horn squirting all over your hand and his cock emptying all over the sheets.

Beel, who had been watching, finally had enough. His cock was twitching against your back, and he needed you. Beelzebub quickly overwhelmed you, not giving you a mere moment of rest before easing his cock inside you. Beel looked over at a cum soaked Bael with a sly smile.

Bael know exactly what he wants.

Bael climbed on top of you, his lips claiming yours once again. You didn't even know what was about to happen to you until you felt his dick press against Beel's and your already stuffed entrance.

"W-wait! Wait! So full! It can't fit!"

You panic trying and failing to form sentences correctly with cock already inside you.

Bael having only one thing on his mind, to be inside of you, couldn't even hear you. As Beel was whispering, "Aww, come on, of course, you can take it. You've been so good taking me. You can have one more cock."

Beel once again used his fingers to stretch you open, helping his best friend ease it inside you.

Beel felt Bael's cock against him, a feeling he hadn't felt in such a long time; his eyes rolled back, trying to hold back from bucking inside you.

How long has it been since Bael had been inside someone? He had forgotten what it felt like for someone to squeeze and milk cock. And now he was filling you up almost completely with His best friend's dick also inside you...

Bael's final threat of self-control, if it wasn't broken, already shattered. Grabbing your hips, he rammed into you. All the stress from paperwork, his carnal feelings about you that he kept so desperately deep inside, and the greedy loss he had to control in favor of running a country finally came to the surface. As he fucked you and Beelzebub, until whimpering moaning mess.

Even Beel could not keep up with his friend. His hands were shaking, his nails digging into your ass as he tried to gain any speed other than pathetically humping, humping, and grinding hard and deep.

Bael has folded you in half, your legs over his shoulders, trying to keep them apart as they threaten to squeeze his head. Your toes curling, you try to move, squirm, buck, and do anything. But you are being held in place, by two men. Sandwiched by two demons, getting treated as nothing more than a sex toy for these two demons.

You already knew what it takes to satisfy Beelzebub now that you have two demons with a voracious sexual appetite. You had no idea how long you would be in this bed.

[nadvs]

please can we have sleeping with the enemy reader taking care of rafe with his hangover (from your last blurb) 😚😚

aaaa yes omg the fluff! (and the everyone but them can see it trope!) (and the overdue confession!) 🙂‍↕️

based on this fic, continutation of this blurb

rafe can’t even open his eyes yet. he feels like he’s an inch away from death.

about a month ago, he moved out of his dorm and into a house with a group of his teammates. it was a nightmare securing a lease on a house because of the reputation athletes have left on the landlords off campus.

but because rafe was the one who worked so hard on getting the house, and because he’s the team captain, he got the biggest and best room, ensuite attached.

it’s in the top floor. it’s quiet. it gets the best ac. but no amount of ac can make the sickening heat of the hangover he has this morning any better.

he finally opens his eyes. she’s not beside him. if he remembers correctly, he asked her to sleep over last night. and… goddamn it, he called her his girlfriend.

there’s a good chance he scared her away. they’re best friends who hook up sometimes. that’s it. no matter how much his teammates - at least the ones who have the balls to - fuck with him about it.

a few nights ago, a girl struck up conversation with rafe at a party and one of his buddies told her not to bother because ‘he’s basically married’ and the crazy thing is, he let her believe it. he hasn’t hooked up with another girl in ages. he hasn’t wanted to.

it got to him. maybe that’s why he slipped up last night, calling her his girlfriend. if he remembers right, it’s like they agreed to being something more in a roundabout, drunken way. or maybe she was just humoring him and is planning to let him down easy when they’re both sober.

she’s in the kitchen, wearing one of rafe’s shirts, cutting up what little fruit the guys have lying around. the blender was a bitch to clean, tacked with residual protein powder.

she’s awake before everyone, making rafe a smoothie to help cure his hangover. this is 100% girlfriend behavior. she’s doing the absolute most. she knows that.

she tells herself it’s because they’re best friends. she’d do the same for any other friend. but doing it for rafe feels so much more gratifying than if she did it for anyone else.

as she drops banana slices into the blender, she thinks about the regret that washed over rafe’s face last night.

she wonders why he so obviously wished he hadn’t called her his girlfriend. was it because he accidentally exposed what he really thinks of her? or because he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea?

she blends the smoothie, cleans up and pads upstairs to rafe’s bedroom. when she opens the door, he’s sprawled out on his bed, down to his boxers, the duvet half-covering his body.

she’s seen him naked so many times before. but this weirdly feels like it’s the most intimate they’ve ever been.

“did you take my clothes off last night?” rafe grumbles, staring up at the ceiling.

“somehow,” she answers. “i fell on my ass trying to pull your jeans off.”

“oh, yeah,” he laughs. he heard her fall to the floor in the dark. it was hilarious. but then he clutches his head. even laughing hurts. “fuck.”

“imagine how bad you’d feel if i didn’t force water on you last night. you’re welcome, by the way,” she says.

she places the glass on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, glad she only had a couple of drinks last night.

“i made you a smoothie. you need to replenish.”

his tired blue eyes finally land on her. he takes her in, the way her brows are knitted in concern, the way she looks in his shirt.

“and your blender was disgusting,” she adds. “it’s pretty sad that a whole group of grown men don’t know how to properly wash dishes. it took me forever to clean it.”

“you’re talking too much,” he rasps, massaging his temple with his thumb.

normally, she’d tease him back. she knows he’s joking. but the joke doesn’t land. she looks away.

in the sober brightness of the morning, she realizes she feels stupid. they agreed they were just friends, but she’s playing house and acting like a girlfriend to someone who either doesn’t want her like that, or does and won’t admit to it when he’s not drunk.

she doesn’t mind taking care of him. but she’s catching feelings. how can she be friends with someone when every second that passes that they’re not more than that feels like a little dose of rejection?

they’ve always been direct with each other. at some point, that stopped. at least on her side.

“i’m fucking with you,” rafe clarifies. “thank you.”

she scoffs. he hardly ever has manners. she must really look mad.

“sure,” she says. she leans forward, picking up and handing him the smoothie, knowing he’s too tired to get it himself. “do you remember what you said last night?”

rafe’s eyes dart away. he rakes back his tousled hair, sitting up slowly to hold the smoothie. tortuously slow, he takes a sip, making her wait for his answer.

“what’d i say?” he mumbles.

she tilts her head, her lips in a firm line. he said he wouldn’t be embarrassed the next day. he’s acting like he is now, though. or maybe he really doesn’t remember.

she suddenly feels bad for pushing this heavy of a conversation on him when he’s clearly exhausted and feeling so terrible.

“we’ll talk about it later,” she says. it gives rafe a wave of anxiety. maybe she’s planning to let him down gently. to tell him they can’t be more than friends. “hydrate, got it?”

she stands, pulling his shirt off over her head.

“where are you going?” he asks, watching her bend over to pick up last night’s clothes.

“home,” she says. “text me if you wanna hang out later when you feel human again.”

she leaves. he lets her.

he’s in a funk the rest of the morning. he eventually finds the strength to take a shower. he eats his first meal at three p.m.

when he sees the blender on the drying rack in the kitchen, his chest tightens. this isn’t normal. he shouldn’t miss someone he saw just this morning. but he does.

and whatever happened last night is hanging over him. if he knows her, he knows it’s bothering her, too.

he texts her: feeling human again. u busy?

she replies: i’m free and starving.

he smirks at his phone. pick you up in 30

when she sinks into the passenger seat of his suv, she’s uneasy. jittery. as if this is a first date. but when she takes in how tense he looks, she pushes all her feelings away.

“what’s wrong?” she asks. “you good?”

“i’m… this feels weird,” he admits. she stills. so it’s not just her who senses it.

“weird how?”

“what do you wanna eat?” he asks. “where am i going?”

“you’re staying here until you tell me what’s up.”

rafe chews on his lip. he turns his key, shutting the car off, parked in front of her dorm building. he knows there’s no point in arguing with her. she can be stubborn.

“weird how?” she repeats.

“like… i’m nervous or something.”

rafe has known for a while now that he’s someone else around her. or maybe he’s actually himself, and she’s the only person who coaxes it out of him.

“nervous?” she echoes. rafe is only ever nervous before an important game, and even then, he’s more hyped up to win than anything.

he can’t take it anymore. he’d rather rip off the bandaid.

“be straight with me,” he says. “what’d i say that you wanted to talk about?”

she can’t recall the last time she felt so shy around him, if ever.

“do you remember calling me your girlfriend?” she says.

he shuffles in his seat, expelling a heavy breath.

“if i fucked things up, just say it,” he rasps.

“so, you remember?”

“yeah.”

“do you remember how you said you wouldn’t be embarrassed for saying it?”

“yeah,” he mutters sharply. “can you get to the point?”

“can you not be a dick right now?” she says.

he sighs. can’t she tell he’s anxious?

“are you?” she says. “embarrassed, i mean?”

“no,” rafe begins. “i’m annoyed that i said it. it made things awkward.”

“it did,” she agrees.

“okay,” he huffs. “so what now?”

she clasps her hands together in her lap, looking out at the side mirror. she could just say they can forget about it. grab takeout. go back to normal. but going back to normal kind of feels impossible.

“my friends always tell me we act like a couple,” she finally says. “this morning, i was washing your dishes and organizing your fridge and i thought, they’re right. this is the kind of stuff a girl in a relationship does. but then i was like, no it’s not like that. we’re just best friends. but then last night... you said you’d be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” he says, bracing for the rejection. the let’s just be friends. or worse, the things are too weird now and we should probably stop hanging out.

she swallows hard.

“i wanted to know if… did something change? were you just drunk or do you actually want to…” she trails off.

for once, it feels odd saying her thoughts out loud to him. because he was always as adamant about not wanting commitment as she was. things have gotten so messy all because he blurted something out last night.

rafe stares at her profile as she looks out the window. she’d fiddling impatiently, like she was the night they first talked at the bar months ago, waiting for someone to take her drink order.

“the guys mess with me about it, too,” he tells her. “they say we act like we’re married or some shit.”

she quirks her eyebrows. they basically do. they see each other almost every day. they bicker. they’re constantly subconsciously touching, whether it’s through joined hands or bumped knees. they have too many inside jokes. they take care of each other. she reminds him of things he can’t afford to forget, like appointments or exams. he makes sure she eats and he pays for everything they do together.

“i don’t look at other girls,” he confesses. “and i know you get hit on when you go out, but it never goes anywhere. i… okay, yeah, fine, something did change at some point. i don’t know when.”

for the first time since she got in the car, she cracks a smile. they’re best friends who are ridiculously attracted to each other and joined at the hip. if that’s not a relationship, what is?

“are we already kind of dating?” she says, finally meeting his eyes.

rafe breathes a chuckle, the heaviness in his chest lifting all at once.

everything was always so easy with her. he assumed it’s because they had no expectations between them. but that wasn’t it. in reality, they had been quietly meeting each other’s expectations without having to try.

“yeah. we are,” he says.

her eyelids flutter as she looks down, gazing at his hand splayed over the dark denim on his thigh. her stomach is numb. her mind is buzzing.

“how’d you get so lucky?” she teases.

rafe doesn’t even have it in him to joke back. he needs to touch her. he leans forward, cradling her jaw, capturing her lips in his.

they’ve kissed a thousand times before. but never like this. this is a kiss that says there’s an understanding that she’s his and he’s hers. and maybe it took them a while to realize that, but now that they’re here, they’re not going back.

(continuation)

[lyv-writes]

OKAYY WE NEED DAD!SPENCER REID‼️

okay so Reader is going out for the day for like a little girls day with her best friends and says bye to Spencer and the cute little toddler! Buttt then the toddler starts missing reader and Spencer isn’t sure how to handle it at first, but then he gets the hang of it! <33

AAAA this is so cute omg thank u for this!!! i hope i was able to do it justice <33

spencer reid x mom!reader

words: 1,395

warnings: none really! just spencer being a good step-dad to your daughter, fluff, baby crying, that’s it!! :]

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

“Thanks again, Spence,” you say, pressing another sweet kiss to his lips before tugging your coat off the hook and making for the front door. “Remember, Lila is allergic to kiwi. And her bedtime is 8, no exceptions. She has to go to daycare tomorrow morning.”

You had spent the morning holding Lila, playing with her and soaking up her laughter as much as you could. Spencer knew you had never really been apart from her—going to work was one thing, but there was a guilt that came with taking the day for yourself. He watches with a fond smile as you ramble through the list that you had already repeated to him twice and does his best to reassure you, nodding along despite having already memorized it.

Pre-made food in the fridge.

Medical information on the fridge in case of emergencies.

Call if she gets too fussy.

“Oh!” You say, halfway out the door before turning back to Spencer, a smile gracing your face. “And don’t let her convince you to give her sweets after dinner. She’ll ask you for fruit snacks, all cute, then she won’t sleep and it will be hell in the morning.”

“No fruit snacks after dinner, got it,” Spencer said, following your line of sight to Lila sitting on her plush rug in the living room, toys surrounding her as she played. Your face softened, affection swimming in your eyes and he could practically hear the thoughts going through your head. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he gently guides your face back to meet his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” he says, tone soft as your shoulders sag at the understanding behind his words. “You deserve to have a day with your friends. I think Lila can handle playing dolls with me for a few hours.”

His phrasing made you giggle, picturing Lila’s pouting face, wagging her little finger at Spencer when he takes something too literally, or doesn’t do it the way she wants. For some reason, Lila is never happy with the voices Spencer does, and after a year-and-a-half she still gets that same little pinched brow whenever Spencer holds a doll in his hand, high-pitched voice mimicking a princess’s until she yanks the toy out of his hand with a firm, yet cute, “No, ‘Penth.”

Without fail, hearing his name in her little voice makes his heart soar, pride filling his chest even if she’s scolding him, wagging her little finger as she says it. He’d always been hesitant at the idea of being a father, whenever he pictured his future that was always a blurry part, but now he couldn’t imagine not having you and Lila in his life.

Searching his face, you finally come to the conclusion that he’s being sincere and a bright smile covers your face. Spencer had come to terms a long time ago, far before the two of you were even dating, that he would do anything to make you smile. A sense of pride wells in his chest knowing that the smiles you give him are just for him, a special glint in your eyes every time.

Between work, and Lila, there was hardly any downtime to just relax. Your evenings were often spent wrangling Lila into bed, usually with Spencer if he’s not away for work. Spencer made it a point to be home in time to have dinner with both of you as much as he could, slowly getting involved in her night time routine. She was 6-months-old when you and Spencer began dating, and while it took some getting used to at first, Lila began reaching for Spencer with a giggle and a giddy squeeze soon enough.

When your friends suggested a girl’s spa-day, Spencer was quick to encourage you to go. Having a toddler made it hard to have a social life, especially when your friends weren’t moms themselves. Lila had warmed up quickly to Spencer, which was the biggest relief, and it was hard to find a reason to say no when Spencer offered to babysit.

“She’s gonna be my daughter,” Spencer said, a fond smile on his face as the two of you spoke conspiratorially in the kitchen. “I already think of her as mine, I’d be happy to watch her for the day.”

Your heart swelled hearing his words, and you couldn’t help but say yes when he put it like that. Spencer, you, and Lila being your own happy little family was all you could ever ask for, and it meant more than Spencer could ever know that he had been so welcoming and understanding. He was a dream.

With a final glance at Lila and a sigh, you’re pressing another unhurried kiss to Spencer’s lips, that same lil dazed smile on his face that he got after every kiss, even after nearly 2 years. “Thank you, Spence. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your forehead—you were gonna be gone all day, he had to get his fill while he could. “Now go before you miss your appointment.”

With a final kiss, Spencer watches as you walk down the front steps, drive away, waiting until he can't see your car anymore before he’s turning around and closing the door behind him. When he looks up, Lila is already looking at him, eyes glancing between the door and him before her small voice is heard over the cartoon playing on the tv.

“Mama?”

“Mama went to the store,” Spencer cooed, lowering himself down to sit on the floor in front of her and her array of toys. “She’s coming back, don’t worry.”

“Mama s’ore?” she whispered in her small voice, her wide eyes blinking slowly at him before her lip began to tremble. It broke his heart to see her eyes, which looked so much like yours, gloss over with tears.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Spencer said, scooping her up in his arms. “She’s coming back for you. She’ll be here soon!”

With a sharp wail for her mom, the tears that had been welling up began falling in big drops, hands gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt as she cried. Hurriedly, he began to bounce her in his arms, mimicking the way he had seen you do it countless times. He’s shushing her in a soft voice, whispering soothing words in the hopes that they’ll at least calm your crying.

Spencer wracks his brain, trying to sift through the information he had gleaned from the parenting books he had been reading for the past two years—he had started as soon as he came to the conclusion he would ask you out. Would showing her pictures of you work? He didn’t want to make things worse by making her miss you more, but maybe seeing your face would soothe her.

Transferring Lila to one hip, he fishes his phone from his pocket and opens the album of your photos, showing her various selfies, focusing on pictures he has of the two of you. After a couple of minutes her sobs quieted to sniffles and soon enough she was swiping through the pictures herself and giggling every time she saw your face.

With her swiping, it landed on a video, one he had taken of you reading a story to her before bed. At the time he had thought the voices you were using for the characters were so funny, hiding his own laughter behind his hand so that he could capture the sound of Lila’s giggles.

Spencer watches as she giggles along with herself, laughing at the way she reacts when you tickle her tummy. Spencer cant help the fond laugh the slips from his lips at the sight, bright grin tugging at his cheeks at your rosy smile.

When you arrive home that evening, only the kitchen light is on downstairs, the faint light from your bedroom guiding you as you softly push open the door. A warm smile paints your face as you slip your phone from your pocket, taking quite a few pictures of Lila, fast asleep atop Spencer’s chest, her favorite book lying next to his relaxed hand. His soft breaths rustle the hair at Lila’s scalp, her hand loosely gripping the edge of his sleeve as she sleeps.

Tip-toeing around the room, you shed your clothes from the day, slip on some pajamas before placing Spencer’s book on the nightstand. Slipping softly under the covers, you curl yourself around Spencer’s side, hand resting on Lila’s back as you fall asleep, comfortable with the people you love the most.

[alastorss]

AAAA ITS GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK!

I love your characterization of Alastor sm ❤️❤️❤️

Could I request reader dropping dead things (people/body parts, deer, etc.) at his door/radio tower? No note, just corpses. He’s gotta figure out who tf if dropping these for him.

a/n: thank you, it's so good to be back!! i really appreciate you and everyone for being so welcoming :')) <3

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"You've been doing what?!"

"I didn't think it was so bad... You're the one who wanted me to make friends!"

Charlie only gawks at you, tugging at the ends of her hair in stress. The Princess of Hell paces back and forth across the room, slowly piecing together why Alastor has been in such a foul mood lately.

"So you thought the best way to make friends with the Radio Demon was to leave dead bodies at his doorstep?"

"He loves dead bodies."

"Yeah, to eat them! Oh god, what kind of message have you been sending to him?" She babbles on, exasperated and flinging her hands around in a panic. "He must think you're threatening him or something!"

"Well..." you make some sort of constipated expression and Charlie stops dead in her tracks. "He might not know they've been from me."

"You've been leaving them anonymously?" The Princess squeaks, unsure of whether that makes it infinitely better or infinitely worse. "What was even the point then?"

"I get nervous!" You argue, flopping back on the couch and laying an arm over your eyes. "I was going to tell him eventually."

Alastor was a different breed of terrifying. He could silence a room just by breathing in it. The wailing souls in his broadcast were enough to command that sort of attention.

When Charlie had given you the task of making friends as a part of her "redemption project" you had assumed he was exempt from the list. He was, after all, fairly secluded despite his cheery demeanour. Very few had ever managed to become his companions.

However, your hopes of avoiding him had been flushed down the drain when you accidentally bumped into each other on the way out on your very first day.

He gave you a look over, scrutinizing you from head to toe until your cheeks burned. Then, demanded something very simple of you:

"Welcome! Please, do entertain me."

His first and, as of today, last words he ever spoke to you. Sure, your methods were a little unorthodox, but you had asked Husk for advice and Alastor's cannibalistic tendencies were as much as the bartender was willing to spill.

When you don't receive any response, you peel your arm away to peer at your friend. She makes another two laps around the coffee table before her face lights up.

"I've got it!"

"I don't like that look on your face—"

"Come on," she laughs, pulling you by the wrists. "You just have to be honest. And make sure he knows you're not trying to kill him!"

"How am I supposed to do that?" You ask nervously. "You just told me he's been in a worse mood than usual."

A sinister smile that could only belong to the daughter of the devil creeps its way across her lips.

Dread. All you feel is terrible dread.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As much as Alastor enjoys a good meal, this is becoming excessive.

It must be the seventh or eighth body this week. And, as usual, there is no note. No indication of why there's a corpse or a deer head or a rabbit's foot at his door. He can't even sniff out any traces of a soul being here.

He hates charity.

Not even because he does not need it, but because the anonymity is making him think they're gifts of pity. That, or it's a threat on his life. Either way, he loathes the idea that someone is looking down on him.

The demon needs to get to the bottom of this soon. Paranoia is not common for him, but the anxious bubbling in his chest is unmistakable. Whoever keeps leaving the bodies at his door is meticulously clean when they kill. He would hate to be on the receiving end of the blade.

Just as he's about to dump the body in his swamp for later, there's a knock on his bedroom door. He hesitates.

No, he isn't afraid of whoever is on the other side of the door. However, if there were a fight, he would need to get his suit tailored again and he simply doesn't have the time for that today.

He takes slightly too long to decide whether or not the person on the other side of the wall is a threat, because soon enough his ears pick up the sound of retreating footsteps.

Alastor swings the doors open so fast that you yelp.

At first he's confused why you refuse to turn around to look at him. Lacking common manners—he'll have to bring that up to you later. Then, he's confused on why you've shown up to his door at all.

"May I help you, dear?"

A chill creeps down your spine. Charlie and her ideas... they would be the death of you. Preferably today. Right now.

"I didn't mean to disturb you!" You stammer, still not looking at him.

Alastor raises a brow before popping up behind you from the shadows. You squeak, clutching somehing to your chest and shielding it from his gaze. He does a loop around your body and you spin around to keep the item hidden. The Radio Demon narrows his eyes.

"Are you hiding something?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You do another spin as he tries to get a peek of what's in your hands.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" He feigns offense. Again, another spin.

"Of course not!"

"You see, I very much don't enjoy being lied to. Last time I caught a scoundrel in my midst, I cracked them open like a—"

"Okay, okay!" You suddenly burst out. You turn so slow that Alastor feels himself holding his breath.

When he finally sees what you've been so insistent on hiding, he snickers. Impolitely, mind you.

"Don't laugh," you whine, squeezing the bouquet closer to your chest. Amongst the flowers are little pieces of death—fingers, eyes, ears.

Charlie had decided that one step back in your redemption by collecting body parts like this would result in three steps forward. She allowed it, just this once.

"Are these for me?" He purrs, leaning down until his face is in yours. You'd been warned before that Alastor had no concept of personal space, but you can't help the way it robs the air in your lungs.

"Please don't get the wrong idea," you strain in embarrassment. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For leaving all those bodies here. I didn't mean for it to come across as insulting."

The demon blinks at you in stunned silence for a few moments before he cackles, standing back to let you breathe again. "Why, of course! No hard feelings, darling."

"Really?" You lighten up with a sigh of relief.

"Your little gifts have kept me on my toes," he assures. "Perhaps not my idea of entertainment, but the effort was there."

"I'm glad to hear that," you smile. "Charlie was worried you wouldn't accept my apology or want to be friends."

You seem to catch yourself, eyes going wide as you shake your head.

"N-Not that I'm assuming this means we can be friends!"

Alastor only laughs again, gentler this time. "No need to be so jumpy. I don't bite," he muses. "And tell the Princess she has nothing to worry about."

He takes the bouquet from you, hands lingering over yours for a fraction longer than he meant for them to.

"I would love to be your friend."

~

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