#church and state too ofc

[bisexualjonahsimms]

when the episode has my favourite character going through it

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 8)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 8 (6.6k) | The Night You Left |

Joel barely sleeps, tossing and turning in his bed with his clothes on, knuckles bloody and burning, throat raw from screaming. He wakes up to hushed whispers outside his door and he throws it open, inexplicably hoping to see you out there. Instead he sees a sea of terrified faces, Sasha tucking Beth behind her, Tess peering out from the bathroom with Rosie holding a cold cloth over her swollen face. Kerri is further down the hall, sweeping up chunks of drywall and dust on the floor from the holes he’d punched into the wall hours earlier. 

He looks back towards Tess. Fuck. She looks awful, already two swollen black eyes and a split lip. What kind of a monster does that to someone? 

“Tess, I–”

“I’ll be alright Joel,” she reassures. “Why don’t you head over to the baths and get cleaned up?”

She knows he can’t be seen in the state he’s in. What would people think? They’d think he’d fuckin’ lost it is what they’d think. And they’d be right.

Joel heads to the old plaza, a ten minute walk down the street and around the corner, to the old salon now serving as the town bath house. This early in the morning he knows no one is going to be here so he lets himself in through the back door. He checks the tank of the town’s only working hot water heater and begins to fill one of the stock tank tubs, shucking his clothes off and climbing in. The water stings his raw knuckles as he scrubs at his body, washing away bits of dusty drywall and blood – his or Tess’, he can’t tell.

Fuck, he fucked up. He shouldn’t have reacted like that. He shouldn’t have done that to Tess. This is what you fucking do to him, this is the effect you have on him. You bring out the worst in him. All you ever did was distract him, tempt him, tease him, and reject him. He saved your life, fed you, clothed you, protected you, and put a roof over your head. And how did you repay him?

Resentment. Neglect. Defiance. Abandonment.

What did he even see in you? He thought you were brave, but you were so soft on the inside. He thought you were smart, but he watched you act like such a fucking fool. He thought you were beautiful, but you wouldn’t even let him say it. He thought you were wild, but he tamed you so easily. He was wrong about you. He tells himself that he’s glad you’re gone and that he’s better off without you around anyway.

—

The first Thursday without you, Joel takes Beth to the meeting, despite complaining that he’d rather go alone. Beth had already gotten to work making clothes and this would be a good opportunity for her to give some out to the families that lived further out of town, at least that’s what Tess had said. He’d never admit it, but he held his breath when a group of people led by the tall and imposing Hank walked in the room, someone else trailing just behind. Several people shifted and Joel saw it was just Hank’s little girl, blushing bright red when she caught him looking at her. 

Shit. He’s not sure why he let himself think it might be you. Hank hadn’t brought you to the church meeting on Sunday so why did he let that tightness grow in his stomach thinking he’d bring you to the Thursday meetings the way he used to bring Beth? Whatever. He doesn’t even want to see you. He continues to be in a foul mood all week and despite pleading with Tess for forgiveness – which she gives him – all the women in the house seem to avoid him.

The second Thursday he notices Hank’s young daughter, who’d introduced herself several times as Amber, following his every move, watching him, sitting next to him, hanging on his every word with rapt attention. The little girl must have a crush. How inconvenient. But wait, he might be able to use this to his advantage. He’d noticed you ducking behind Hank’s oversized frame at church the past Sunday, avoiding him like the plague, and decided he was going to give you a taste of your own medicine. 

Fuck you, you little ingrate, he’s gonna ignore the shit out of you right back.

He purposely avoided looking in your direction during his speech and sat with his back to you during dinner. He made sure to act like the perfect leader, loving and gentle, graciously accepting people’s well wishes for Tess’ illness – the cover-up for why she’d been in the house for over a week while her face healed up. Within earshot of you he gives attention to every other female Valley member, even going so far as to bring people into his embrace, hugging them tight. 

He’s like an oily politician – kissing babies and shaking hands – but he hopes you see it all. He hopes you feel sick over it, feel jealous, feel regret. He hopes you feel the loneliness rotting in your gut like he does. But how will he know? How will he know if he can’t see you, can’t talk to you? He needs access to you, someone for you to confide in, someone on the inside. Little Amber will do nicely. 

He strikes up a conversation with her, bumping up the charm to an eleven. He opens with some mildly flirtatious banter, asks some questions about her – women love that shit – before getting to the point.

“Hear you got a new roommate over there,” he postures casually.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Amber beams.

“She is?”

“Oh– ummm,” her brow furrows. “Isn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckles, “You tell me.”

“She’s alright, yeah… I mean, she– she’s fine.”

“Well you should let me know if she does anything to bother you.” His voice is smooth and buttery.

“I should?”

“Well yeah,” Joel touches his hand briefly to her chin, “I gotta make sure you’re happy, don’t I?” 

“Oh,” she giggles, face flushing immediately.

“So make sure you tell me what’s goin’ on, okay?”

“Yeah I will,” she tries to suppress her smile. “I– I definitely will.”

“Anything at all, even if you think it might not be important.” He makes sure she’s looking at him and drops his voice an octave. “Anything at all, okay, sweetheart?” He winks to seal the deal.

It was almost too easy, turning little Amber into his own private mole. Every Thursday he gave her a couple minutes of attention and she folded, playing right into his hand and spilling everything you two had talked about over the past week. She told him where you went, what you did, who you talked to, and even what anyone else in the house said about you. Apparently Hank’s wife was missing Beth and Joel briefly thinks of telling Tess to make a switch back, but then gets angry at you again and changes his mind.

You don’t deserve his forgiveness, you’re not missing him enough, not even close to being as miserable as you could be. Amber had told him that you’d cried yourself to sleep almost every night the first week but then the other day after the church meeting he’d watched you hunch down behind little Amber – barely five feet tall – trying to hide from him. Your stubborn pride is gonna make it even more satisfying when you come crawling back to him, begging him to let you come back home.

Amber tells him when you’ve stopped crying at night but says you still spend a lot of time on your own, wandering the edges of the property. She catches you up in the hayloft all the time, or napping with the baby goats. She says you don’t spend any time with Danny or Diego, the ranch hands, so he resists his urges to take them by the collar and threaten to bury them alive if they so much as look at you.

—

Joel woke up in the mornings feeling empty, like his chest had been broken open and hollowed out, all of his internal organs scooped onto the ground. The only thing that remained inside him was a deep-seated ache. He tried to soothe it with conversation but Tess didn’t want to hear it, kept telling him it’s better this way and to move on. He tried to temper his loneliness with touch, but when he reached for Sasha’s hand after dinner one night she ripped it out of his grip. One evening, in a particularly weak moment, he nuzzled into Kerri’s neck while she was washing dishes, her hands occupied and covered in suds. 

“Oh,” she squeaked, startled by his touch.

“Hey,” he said, muffled against her skin, twitching under the brush of his beard.

“I’m not really–” she started.

He didn’t let her finish. He was out of the room before she could even finish her sentence. How fucking pathetic was he? He didn’t even want her – not really – and she couldn’t even stand to be touched by him. This is what you’ve done to him, this is what you’ve made him. He’s been ruined by you.

When it's been just over a month since you left, things at the house finally get back to a sense of normalcy again. For a while, Tess was the only one speaking to him, and besides the Thursday meetings Beth was assigned to accompany him to, she avoided him like the plague. Kerri wouldn’t meet his eyes, Rosie shuffled away from him whenever he entered a room, and Sasha gave him dirty looks every time she passed him in the halls. But with time, things were improving. There was a low hum of conversations around the dinner table now – none of them involving him – but at least everyone else was happy.

The following Sunday Amber traps him in a corner and starts saying shit about coming to live with him. He has no idea where she got this idea in her head but she keeps trying to touch the buttons on his shirt and he’s doing everything in his power not to swat her little fucking hands away. He sees Tess giving him a look and he knows. He knows he needs to get away from her, that people can see him, that people will talk. What if you see him? You’re never gonna come back home if you think he’s messing around with this annoying child. He has to stop using her for information, he has to cut her off.

The following Thursday marks the end of February and Amber’s reports have gotten brief and repetitive. Walks alone along the pastures, always has her nose in a book at bedtime, late to every meal (much to her mother’s chagrin). She tells him that you only leave the farm on Sundays for church and on Wednesdays for your bath, having to settle for a weekly wash at the Covered Bridge Inn another mile down the road with some of the other farming families. He bets you’re missing your three soaks a week since you left town.

Joel decides to cut Amber off then and there, she’s not giving him anything he doesn’t already know and he needs more, he wants more. He needs to fill that emptiness inside him and you’re the only thing that can make him feel whole again. He’s barely looked at you in weeks, always avoiding watching you directly, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of thinking he gives a fuck. He doesn’t, not really. He just wants to soothe the hole you left. He convinces himself he just needs a taste, just needs a peek. He just needs to see if you’re missing him, to make sure you’re suffering the way he is, the way you should be. He wants to see it for himself. Then he can get over you – move on – like Tess says he should.

He waits until the following Wednesday and makes a trip out to the Mansfield’s farm when he knows you’ll be gone for your bath. Only Hank remains on the farm to greet him but is honored and excited by Joel’s presence. Joel makes up something about wanting to visit Hank because of how much he respects all of his hard work, but asks Hank to not spread the word lest the other farmers be jealous. Hank nods in agreement as he shows Joel around the property and then welcomes him into his humble home.

When Joel excuses himself to use the bathroom he takes a walk around the upstairs, checking each bedroom to find yours, recognizing it when he sees one of your old shirts on the bed. He lifts your pillow to his face, huffing in your familiar scent. Under your pillow is a book, paperback cover worn and tattered, Of Mice and Men by John Steinback. Joel stuffs it in his waistband and pulls his shirt back down, heading back downstairs to tell Hank he should get going.

There’s no mention of his visit by his little spy the next night so, he assumes Hank kept it a secret and you were none the wiser. He wants to go to the farm again, he wants to have another piece of you. Just one more taste, just one more. He waits until late in the day on the following Wednesday and, avoiding traps he and his patrols helped set, he rides out and sneaks onto the property from the neighboring fields. Hank is working out in the far pasture and doesn’t even notice Joel’s surreptitious arrival.

The house is unlocked and he goes straight to your room, this time laying down in your bed, letting himself soak in the scent of you wafting off the sheets. He thinks of you crawling in the bed every night at the end of a long day working your ass off on this farm, a big change from the cushy life you had back home. He knows you only get a bath once a week here, and he can smell your scent on the sheets strongly. He smells sweat, dirt, farm animals, and a trace of tangy milk. You must change the sheets when you get back from your bath. This must be the most pungent they smell all week.

He grabs his dick overtop his pants, he can feel it already hard and aching at the thought of you. He wishes he had more time to lie here, to really be able to enjoy himself, but he made up an excuse to Tess and she’ll be suspicious if he’s gone too long. He takes his hand away from the front of his pants and instead grabs your pillow, throwing it over his face to breathe it in a final time. He gets up, adjusting himself, and takes a step towards the door before he doubles back and snatches your pillowcase off the pillow, stuffing it down the front of his shirt.

—

He’s panting slightly as he makes his way in the back door of his house, having had to jog from the stables, cutting through the town park so he’d be back before Tess started wondering where he was. Kerri gives him a sideways glance and an empty smile, quickly turning her head back to her meal preparation. Tess and Sasha come up from the basement holding jars of preserved vegetables. 

“Where you been?” Tess asks.

“I told you,” he tries to stifle his heavy breathing. “I had to help Peter out with his solar panel issue.”

“But Peter’s wife Georgia just came by here not even ten minutes ago and asked how you were doin’,” she says, looking confused.

“Yeah well it wasn’t at his house,” Joel thinks quickly. “He’s been tryin’ to get it fixed up for little old Miss Betty, out– umm… over there by the woods.” He picked the most remote, home-bound person he could think of, hoping it would cover his ass.

“Oh, she needs power? For what?” she asks, setting down the jars on the counter with Sasha, not giving Joel her full attention anymore. He uses the opportunity to move out of the kitchen towards his office.

“I dunno, just helpin’ out Peter,” he says and then ducks out of the room before she can question him further. 

Once he closes his office door he pulls out your pillowcase from under his shirt and balls it up to his face, sniffing it more. He sticks it in the bottom desk drawer under the maps, where he keeps your lost pair of underwear, your rejected christmas gift, and the book he took from under your pillow on his previous visit. Something scratches at him from deep inside, something that might resemble guilt. He shakes it off. He has nothing to feel guilty for. If you want underwear, books, or your pillowcase so bad you can come back home and have them. 

—

He can’t even wait until next Wednesday to go over to the farm. Sunday morning rolls around – he’s spent all weekend planning this moment – and he gives a well-rehearsed speech to Tess about being sick. He doubles over in his bed and clutches his middle, groaning until her face softens and she puts the back of her hand to his forehead the way his mom used to. She brings him some water and rice and tells him to get some rest before heading to the services with everyone else in the house.

Once he’s left alone he jumps out of bed, throwing the covers off like a child on Christmas morning. He knew that if he went to church he’d be able to see you, maybe fill a little bit of his craving. But since he doesn’t really look at you, how much of you can he actually see? Knowing that Hank would bring your entire household to the service meant the farmhouse would be empty. He can sneak over there while everyone is preoccupied and have his fill of your scent, of the ghost of your presence. He needs this, he tells himself, he needs a little bit more before he stops, before he gets over you.

He doesn’t want to take a horse this time, wants to leave no trace of where he’s going or risk anyone seeing him riding out. Most of the town is at the church service but he wants to be extra cautious. He heads out the back door and ducks into the trees beyond the yard, making the long way around the populated square to hit the fence-line. He finds a well-worn path through two fence sections and, avoiding the traps he knows are there, darts south towards the farm. 

Joel’s knees are aching by the time he hits Hank’s property, heart pounding and feet throbbing, having set a brutal pace to make the trip in just about thirty minutes. His chest is heaving to catch his breath as he crosses over the creek and walks up the small hill to the old farmhouse standing like a silent monument above the pastures.

He takes his time on this visit, going through your side of the dresser, recognizing the clothes you had before, touching the fabric with his fingers that he would feel beneath his touch whenever he held you in the mornings. He looks in the closet – mostly Amber’s clothes – but sees a nice dress in there he assumes Hank intended for you to wear to church. Joel’s never seen you in a dress, maybe no one here has either, since you’ve certainly never worn this one. 

He takes off his clothes and climbs in your bed, lying face flat on your pillow, and smells you. Not your soap or shampoo, but you, the real you. The you he used to smell when you were at home, when you were in his arms, when you were his. Before you left him, before you broke him, before he was empty. He slowly humps against the bed – his cock rubbing the worn, softened sheets – and thinks of you. 

He imagines you coming back and catching him, throwing your arms and legs around him, crying how much you miss him and kissing him until he agrees to take you home. His come spills on your sheets and he throws the blanket back over top, leaving the mess for you to find. Part of him hopes you know it was him. He puts half his clothes on and then begins to get sleepy, having stayed up half the night going over and over in his head his plans for today. He lies down on top of the bed just to rest his eyes for a moment.

He doesn’t hear the horses pull up with the wagon outside, or the door opening and people entering the house downstairs. He doesn’t hear anything until there’s footsteps on the stairs coming towards where he’s still half naked and just awake. Shit. He jumps up and grabs the rest of his clothes off the floor, kicking his boots under your bed and jumping in the closet just as Amber bursts in the room, humming a hymn and babbling about how she wants to make soup to send to him. You hum in assent but otherwise say nothing.

He wishes he could see you, but he’s pushed himself into the closet and to the side as much as possible. He is half-covered by a mothball-smelling crocheted cardigan and a mildew-smelling old raincoat. He hears the soft sounds of fabric and the wooden creak of dresser drawers, then you both silently shuffle out of the room and down the stairs. He waits a long time until he's sure the coast is clear and manages to get himself dressed, pull on his shoes, and make it downstairs. 

He hides in a closet for several hours, hearing Amber and her mother all around the first floor, cleaning and cooking and gossipping to each other. Where are you? Are you in the hayloft like Amber said you like to be? Are you feeding goats or milking cows? He wants to see you but he knows he has to go, knows he’s stayed too long. Everyone has been back at his house for hours and Tess will most definitely be wondering where the fuck he went to. 

It’s mid-afternoon by now and he knows he can’t waste anymore time. He ducks out of the closet and runs for the closest patch of trees as quickly as he can. As soon as he’s in the cover of the woods he starts thinking of the shit show he’s gonna walk into. Tess is gonna give him the third degree. He left no note, no indication of where he would be. What excuse is he even gonna give? He played sick so convincingly and now what is he gonna do? What can he tell her that will be believable? 

His mind is racing with a hundred different thoughts and he’s trying to ignore the sting of the cold air in his lungs and the burning of his thighs as he presses forward up another hill. He’s sure that’s why he misses the trap. Because he knows where they all are, he helped set almost every single one. He has a map in his office with all of them marked off, directs the patrols to check and maintain them. He knows better. But he’s distracted. You’ve distracted him. This is all your fault. That’s all he can think as he feels the trap clamping over his ankle and the biting pain shooting up his leg. This is all your fuckin’ fault.

Joel loses his balance quickly as the counterweight trips and yanks his leg out from under him. He sees the whole world flip and feels the fire of tearing flesh licking up his leg. He comes to rest with his shoulders on the ground, his head brushing against the fallen leaves, but the lower half of his body lifted up in the air, strung up in the tree by his ankle. Shit, this is a good trap, he was so proud when he thought of it and now he can confirm that it’s quite debilitating and extremely painful. 

—

The sun has started setting when Joel hears a single step behind him and he whips his head around, facing a lone figure, light hair braided over her shoulder, pack on her back stuffed full. Sasha.

“Hey honey… I didn’t hear ya coming,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yeah, Joel,” she looks him over quickly, “That’s kinda the point.”

She opens her mouth to ask a question – probably something akin to what the fuck are you doing out here – but then she looks southward, towards the still-visible fields of the dairy farm, and back at him. She closes her mouth, deciding not to ask something she already knows the answer to. Instead she looks him up and down, taking in the scene in the fading light.

“You uhh… you want me to get you down from there?”

“Well what’s the alternative, honey?” He motions around. “You gonna leave me here?”

“I could…” her face remains impassive, considering her options, “But Tess would probably miss you.”

Joel lets out a huff and gives her a partial smile, it’s as much as he can manage having been stuck like this for far too long. Sasha throws her pack down and fishes some bolt cutters out of the back, reaching them above Joel’s ankle and cutting a chain link rather easily. Joel's body unceremoniously slams down to the forest floor, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” she mutters, kneeling down to check him over. “What’d you think was gonna happen when I cut it?”

“I dunno honey but I’m not a fuckin’ gymnast. I’ve been hangin’ upside-down for hours, so I’m kinda at the whim of gravity right now.

“Well twinkle toes, good thing you’re not training for the olympics, because your leg looks absolutely fucked. We need to get you to the clinic ASAP.”

Yeah yeah yeah Joel grumbles, grunting and groaning as Sasha helps him to his feet, leaning into his side so she can support his weight on his bad side.

“Is your horse nearby?”

“Didn’t bring a horse,” he sighs.

“Joel, we’re still over a mile away from home and your leg–”

“Well we better get going then, huh?”

“But, Joel–”

“Time’s a wastin’ honey, let’s go.”

—

By the time the doctor finishes wrapping Joel’s ankle, he can already see the blood seeping through the bottom layers of the bandages. She’s given him some expired meds for the pain that are managing to take the edge off, but he’s still extremely uncomfortable. He’s not gonna tell her that though.

“I’m gonna need to see you tomorrow to clean and redress this wound.”

“I can come by after–”

“No,” she interrupts. “No, Joel, I’ll make a house call, you shouldn’t be walking on this at all. This needs to be elevated so the swelling can go down.” She wraps the second layer tighter and Joel bites back a noise. She notices. “That’s why it’s leaking like this, you didn’t elevate it,” she scolds, and then murmurs under her breath, “And you walked a mile on it.”

“Well I knew you made house calls but I didn’t think you’d make middle-of-the-forest calls.”

She makes a noise that sounds like hmmm, and grabs another roll of gauze to keep wrapping around. He’s not sure if she bought his story, that he and Sasha were scavenging together and he wasn’t looking where he was going, but she removed the trap from his ankle and gave him a tetanus shot and some antibiotics. He didn’t even realize she had all of that here but she opened a locked cabinet and there was a secret stash of medicines, just waiting for him.

Since he was hanging upside-down he didn’t lose much blood and the doctor told him she doubts there’s a broken bone, given that the trap clamped down above the ankle bones and more into the meat of his leg. She is worried about infection, of course, and said that the way it pulled on his leg could take a while for the muscles to heal. How long did Sasha leave you hanging there she kept asking and he kept explaining that they’d split up to cover more ground, and she’d found him when he missed their meet-up time.

“I think that’s enough, Doc, quit fussin’ over me,” he tells her as he shifts on the bed to get up. “Get Sasha for me and I’ll head home, and don’t worry, I’ll keep it elevated.”

“Sasha left after she dropped you off Joel,” she leans back and points to the doorway, where one of the clinic staff has rolled in a rusted wheelchair. “We’re gonna take you.”

“I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Oh cut it out, you already got your tetanus shot.”

—

He gets out of the chair and stumbles up the front steps, forbidding them from helping him through the door and promising to elevate his leg and keep it that way, trying to keep his voice in a whisper and not disturb the house. He hops inside and his fears are immediately realized when he sees Tess waiting for him at the dining room table. Their eyes meet and they stare at each other in silence for a long while before she rises out of her chair and points to an empty one.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says, walking into the kitchen.

Joel sits in the chair and Tess comes back in, motioning for him to put his leg up on the bench next to him, setting a cloth ice pack gently on his injured leg. She slowly sits down and resumes looking at him. A long silence passes between them.

“You gonna make me ask?”

“Ask what?” he says casually, then she pins him with a look and he drops all pretense, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sure Sasha already told you.”

“She didn’t tell me why.”

“Why? You already know that too.”

“I know you were out there at the farm, Joel, sneakin’ around, messin’ with her stuff, fuckin’ with her head, I don’t know what all you get up to. But why, Joel? Why?”

“What do you care, anyway?”

“Why can’t you leave her alone?” she hisses

“Why is that any of your fuckin’ business?”

Tess slams her hand down on the table and hisses, “You made it my business when you brought her into my house.”

“Your house, is it?”

“You’re goddamn right it’s my house, and I take care of everyone in it. I sent her to the farm to get some relief from you and your behavior, and you can’t show one ounce of self control? Who the fuck are you?”

“I don’t think–”

“No, you’re not thinkin’, that’s the problem,” she interrupts. He’s stunned into silence. “I’ve taken a lotta shit in my life, Joel, and I’ll keep taking it if it’s for the greater good. I’ve followed you around for years and I’m loyal, but I ain’t stupid. I see you slipping. Everyone does. Everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve sacrificed for you… you gotta play your role.”

“I’m tired of it,” he whispers.

“You’re not tired of everything it gets you.”

He grumbles at that and mutters something like it doesn’t get me what I really want, and she knows he means you. She knows he still wants you, even when he pretends like he doesn’t. She sees the way he purposely avoids you and looks the other way when you come near. It’s all bullshit bravado, and she fuckin’ knows it. She knows he’s sad, lonely, heartbroken without you. But she needs him to either put up or shut up. Admit it or move on. She can’t have him stuck in this loop of destruction.

“Leave her be, Joel. It’s done with her, it’s over.”

—

Two weeks go by in a blur, Joel doesn’t sneak away to the farm, he avoids Amber at the Thursday meetings, he steers clear of you at the Sunday service. He goes where Tess tells him to go, meets with who she tells him to meet with. His leg heals well and he’s back on his feet much sooner than the doctor expected him to be. He spends his days working with the gardeners in town to get ready for spring planting, and the evenings working in his office to schedule patrols and plan maintenance for sections of the perimeter fencing. 

He keeps his head down and keeps his mind occupied. He starts to feel better, and then he’ll lie in bed at night and he’ll hear the door to the tiny room across the hall close and remember you’re not there. It cuts like a knife in his hollow chest, the slow thumping of his heart echoing in its empty chamber. He feels bad for going the whole day without missing you and his stomach gets tied up in knots over everything that happened. 

He tries so hard not to think of you, to keep his mind busy with anything else… until he can’t. Until everyone stands up as he introduces Bianca’s baby to the community and then everyone sits back down and there you are. You’re standing in the middle of a pew halfway back, staring daggers through him. Looking at him like he just slapped you in the face. He can’t help but look at you – for the first time in over two months – and watch you come undone.

He sees you run out of the sanctuary and only Tess’ iron grip clawing at his elbow keeps him from running after you. After the service he tells her he’ll meet them in the hall for lunch and she reluctantly leaves him, mouthing behave yourself as she goes.

And then you’re in front of him again, the both of you looking into each other’s eyes. There’s so much fire in yours, he hasn’t seen you look like this since the first day he saw them, backed into a corner of the clinic like a trapped animal, teeth bared and ready to pounce. You start snapping at him, biting him with your words, and he can’t fucking help himself. He bites at you right back. Every sharp barb of your tongue, every click of your fangs, he’s spurred on to hiss and claw in response. You call him a liar and then tell him you don’t care when it couldn't be more obvious that you do. 

Why won’t you just admit that you care? Why won’t you just admit that you miss him? Why are you so afraid of the truth?

You brush by him, purposely knocking his arm with your shoulder as you exit and when he turns to follow you he sees Tess in the doorway. She walks up to him and he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until her arms close around him and he’s sobbing into her shoulder.

“She hates me,” he heaves.

“She doesn’t hate you, Joel,” she hushes.

“She does. She thinks that was my baby.”

“Did you tell her it wasn’t?”

“No,” he sniffles.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Cause I’m incapable of doing the right thing. I just keep fucking up,” he sobs. “I keep doing the wrong thing every fucking time. I grab her, I hurt her, I say the wrong thing, I fuck it all up.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” he wails.

“I do, I know why.”

“Why then?” Joel sniffles.

“It’s easier for you to push her away than it is to let her in.” 

—

Joel is sitting in silence at the dinner table later that night, mindlessly picking at his plate, lost in his thoughts. The meal has long-since finished and the women are clearing the table, moving in and out of the kitchen and talking with each other. Beth is excitedly telling them about a barn cat who had kittens last year and everyone is gushing over the talk of adorable kittens. 

Joel remembers Sarah finding two abandoned kittens after a soccer game one cloudy May afternoon, two flea-infested little rats hiding behind the practice field’s bathrooms. She’d carried them in her shirt back to him, all three of them crying, begging him to let her keep them. He said no a hundred times but still wound up driving all of them all the way across town to the only vet’s office open on a Saturday. Hundreds of dollars later they were stuffed full of medicine and food and were sleeping curled up in the crook of Sarah’s neck. 

She told him she understood when he said they couldn’t keep them forever – allergies, he’d explained – but that didn’t stop big, fat tears from rolling down her face when she placed them into the arms of their new owners.

“You did such a good job taking care of them,” he’d told her, wiping away her tears. “You should be so proud. Look how big they got! You did that! You gave them a shot at a great life.”

“You did it too, dad,” she’d said, hugging him, telling him he also did a good job.

He didn’t do shit, he just couldn’t say no to her. And she thought he hung the moon. She thought he was some kind of a saint. Joel Miller, patron saint of disgusting, sickly little kittens. The man she thought he was… he could never be that man. Not then. Not now. Not after everything he’s done.

And then he realizes he’s sobbing again, at the dinner table, and everyone is staring at him. 

“Y– You okay, Joel?” Beth asks.

“Yeah,” he sniffles. “I was just… thinkin’ about Sarah.”

“Who’s Sarah?” Kerri says.

“Can everyone give us a minute?” Tess says.

The room quickly clears and Joel is still sputtering and sniffling at the head of the table. Tess sits down next to him and he slides off his chair, kneeling on the floor and burying his head in her lap, tears rolling down his face and soaking her jeans. He’s muttering I can’t lose her too and sobbing and Tess thinks this might be it, he might finally be ready to face it.

“What’s wrong, Joel?” Tess asks gently.

“She left me, I fucked up and she left, I don’t deserve her, she hates me, I’m a monster and she hates me and I don’t do anything right and I just fail over and over and she can’t stand me and all I do is–” his cries, devolve into a blubbering mess.

—

It’s just before midnight and the house is dark and quiet. Only a lamp in the living room casts a glow on them – Tess and Joel on the couch – where they’ve been sitting and talking for hours. He’s finally calmed down, having talked through months-worth, if not years-worth, of feelings with her. Things they’ve already talked about, things she’s suspected but never had confirmed, and secrets they’ve kept even from each other. It felt cathartic, like a weight lifted from the both of them, and they sit in companionable silence before they head up to bed.

A loud, frantic knocking at the front door makes both of them jump. Tess goes to answer it and all Joel hears is a tandem of words, spilling out like a waterfall so quickly he can only catch some of them. Not in bed… looked everywhere… can’t find... He gets up from his seat and heads to the door, freezing when he sees Danny and Diego’s harrowed faces standing on his darkened porch.

“W– what’s goin’ on?” Joel asks, looking between the two men and Tess.

Tess grabs his arm, bracing him.

“She left.”

🖤

NEXT

As always, muchas gracias to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk for sticking with me through my highs and my lows, my slumps, and my manic incessant babbling about CJ.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @blvckmvgicwoman

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four : Part Five : Part Six : Part Seven

Master list

Alastor x OFC/Reader V(No use of Y/N)

Part Eight

(Or, Alastor and reader have a serious, non-physical church appropriate conversation in the woods that results in no action whatsoever and this author is a liar)

Minors DNI, 18+ below

“-just like her lack of tits?” Well, what a sentence to get you back into a conversation. You clued into the group in the sitting room, the corner having had most of your attention since Alastor had joined. Waking up this morning alone wasn’t a real surprise, but there was a small part of you that was more than a little disappointed he didn’t stick around. Then again, if he did, what the hell would that situation have played out? So, as expected, you got out of bed, dressed yourself and joined everyone downstairs for the morning discussion.

Vaggie had tried to convince everyone that Charlie was alright, just ‘thinking’ upstairs, however it was no secret that with only a month to go, the hotel was fractured. You kept zoning in and out of all the talking, mind constantly drifting to the night prior. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Alastor fade rapidly into shadows and you cursed yourself for not paying attention to what caused him to leave in such a rush - and with such a maniacal look on his face to boot.

The imaginary pressure of awkwardness having left the room with Alastor, you finally joined in and said your piece about what was happening before the air felt sucked out of your chest. Something hurt - bad - and it caught you by surprise. There was a massive force building inside of you, and you managed to escape the room without any protest from the paranoid residents. You hauled yourself into the little library, the deceptive metal sign still up from Lucifer's visit, and you kneeled down on the ground while the pressure continued. Suddenly the room was growing in shadows, and you could see a bright green haze illuminate the space.

The light appeared to be coming from your hands, but the room's static that was increasing in spades had no known origin. Your head was filled with loud static and intense pressure, and somewhere in the background you heard Vaggie yell out ‘No!’ Before it sounded like a herd of elephants running upstairs. You had been lowered to all fours now, your head slack on your shoulders, hands and knees pressed into the ground. After what had felt like the fasted working Tylenol your body’s tense state lessened. What the actual fuck was that all about?

You took your time settling your nerves, a full body shiver taking over you. It felt like your skin wanted to crawl off of itself, like you stuck a fork in a light socket or you were an over changed battery. The pressure that was sticking around felt as if it were moving around your own soul. It felt like you were almost seasick without the nausea. It was a strange sensation overall. Outside of the library you could hear a string of angry Spanish, and Angel calling out your name. You opened the door and poked your head out, answering his call.

Vaggie had continued out the hotel's main door, slamming it behind her. You made eye contact with the tall demon and both of you were quite perplexed at whatever was happening. Angel shrugged, answering the silent question, “Charlie and Alastor left in a hurry and Vaggie is either tailing after them or doing her own thing - I dunno, my Spanish ain’t too impressive. I only know sexual words and curse words.”

You frowned, “Why did Charlie and Alastor leave? Did they say where they were going?” You leaned on the door frame to give Angel your full attention.

“Alastor n’Charlie made a deal, toots.” He said, almost grimly as his face cringed.

A deal? Was that always a bad thing? Come to think of it, you didn’t really know too much about demon deals, even though you had been here for a couple of months. Staying in the hotel was contributing to your naivety of Hell. You were still unsure how hell politics worked with Overlords, the ‘Royal’ family of Hell, and the other Lords like Sloth or Gluttony. Not to mention the mystical god-like beings that reigned in their own manner, generally staying away from the Pride district as Sinners were not able to leave this realm at all. You nodded at Angel’s statement, and made a mental note to read up on deals in hell. Some things still embarrassed you to have to ask. As the youngest person in the group in every sense you found yourself constantly asking questions that were very second nature to everyone else.

”Oof. I gotta…I gotta call Cherri or something. I’m gonna grab a bottle, sit my skinny ass in bed and hope I forget what’s coming…” Angel spun on his heel to walk towards the bar and waved at you without looking back. A soft goodbye left your lips as a habit, but the library door was closing behind you before you finished the 2-syllable word. You hustled over to a particular section that you had reorganised what felt like ages ago - Demonology…Sinners & You…What to Expect when Eternal Damnation sets in - Hmm. You hadn’t really looked too hard at the titles before but some of them were pretty ridiculous, even for hell.

“I need a book on Deals, what would that even be called?” You questioned no one in particular out loud. In your peripherals you noticed a bright green-yellow light pulsing from a shelf. Frowning, you approached it with slight hesitation, squinting through the light and noticed it was coming from a book. The book was named “Demons, Deals, and Divine Intervention : Getting the Most out of Your Soul Pacts.” - Okay, a little on the nose. Why did the book glow?

“Did you glow because I talked out loud?” Nothing. Then what…Maybe it was the way you structured the question? You threw out a couple of silly questions with no other lights appearing. Weird. This hotel was getting stranger by the day. “I need to know how you glowed, is this normal?” Another light appeared, highlighting a book in a stack that was still being worked through. You dug through the pile and read the title through the cracked and well read book as best as you could:

“Voodoo & You! A guide on Gris-gris, Summoning, and Souls.”

Hmmm. Interesting. You tried another question with the same lead - “I need a place to sit.” Scraping across the floor had you turned around to notice your preferred sofa chair moving towards you, seemingly pulled by large shadows. They wisped away once the chair was in place near you but you felt as if they might have been lingering around.

What. The fuck.

You stuttered for a second, concerned at the new development - “Wuh-what? Why is this happening?” The brightest glow yet appeared. This one came from a book that was rather large, and made you groan not only because of the lame title, but because your evening just became a complete write-off.

“An idiot's Guide to the Occult: A Phenomenon.”

Fuck.

No more questions, Idiot. You thought as you sat down and opened the first title.

Half a day and a pot of coffee later, you felt pretty well-read on ‘deals’. Charlie and Alastor were still not back from whatever quest they were, neither Angel nor Vaggie had come downstairs, and Husk was never a bit seeker for conversation so getting through the books took no time at all. Your only company were the shadows that took shape on the walls, smiles occasionally present. It reminded you of the first one you saw back in your motel room before you died.

Deals were made on a sinner soul. Hellborn, The Lords of the Rings, and the Goetia were not involved in selling or generally ‘buying’ souls. Souls were a form of currency, and Overlords were such because of the high quantity of souls acquired. The more deals one makes, the stronger they become. If a soul has a higher value, for instance if one Overlord gains another Overlord's soul the power is increased even more so. If one consumes a soul, the power is exponentially increased. Which from what you recalled, was what Alastor did. So it made sense to you why he was so powerful , because you had been told he did just that when he arrived in Hell.

The only thing you were having difficulty with was understanding where exactly you fit in with all this deal nonsense. Technically Alastor and yourself had made a deal about not speaking on your situation, but no further. But that did not involve a transfer in souls. He had mentioned that the two of you were akin to ‘soulmates’, as whatever awry magic you accidentally manipulated linking the two of you together. And if the soul link the two of you had did not have glowing objects and lingering, tangible shadows handing you things before today.

Could it be that whatever deal Alastor had made with Charlie had increased his power so much that there was a spillover onto you? You had been allowing the shadows to wrap around your legs and shoulders, occasionally playing with your hair. It wasn’t much of a bother, however it was more the fact you didn’t quite know how to get rid of them. Suddenly the door slammed open and Angel burst in, tossing something at you. you dropped your book on the floor and caught the item, a hammer.

“Jesus Angel! A hammer?” You exclaimed.

“Arm ya’self toots, we’re renovating.” He said with an enormous smile. A couple of Pentious’ egg boys had gathered around the tall man's legs chattering about reinforcement and boss’ plans, etc. They generally spoke nonsense as it was but this was more confusing than usual.

Unfortunately for you Angel didn’t give you much time to recover and grabbed you by an arm to drag you out into what could only be described as disorganised chaos. Windows were being boarded up, Pentious was strategically bracing the walls and furniture - honestly it was so chaotic it was hard to focus on a single thing.

Angel broke it down to you that Vaggie was on a mission to deal with Carmilla Carmine, some weapons overlord, Charlie and Alastor had gone to recruit sinners to defend the hotel and in that interim Angel had managed to gather the remain hotel tenants to build defences of the hotel so the others had something promising to return home to. And that was, in fact, how they found the group.

Trying their best against all odds, prepared to defend the only home they had.

____

Later in the evening, chewing on your cuticles as you stared at your bedroom door, you tried to work up the courage to deal with the knowledge you had and ask Alastor about the deal he had made with Charlie. Would it be worth telling him? the idea of telling him that with every deal he made was possibly pouring over into you scared you. Not just because of Alastors pride, but you had no idea how to handle the changes. Even now, with the simple addition of these strange shadows you couldn’t control them. Or the glowing aid that appeared when you asked a question the right way.

You had a lingering suspicion that you could also detect lies as well - earlier Pentious told you he had no feelings for Cherri and the static sensation that ran over your tongue caught you off guard. It happened again when his egg boys told a few known half truths. Everyone else had headed to their rooms before you could prove this theory but again - this was just another thing that had you on edge.

Deciding that if he found out later that you held information from him would be far scarier than just facing it head on, you decided to pay the demon a visit. Barefoot, you crossed over the hall and hovered for a moment before knocking softly on the door, shadows through the crack near the floor flickering at the sound. The door cracked open and your new shadow friends seemed to merge with the shadows that erupted from Alastors room. Still creaking open, you peered in through the open door. Expecting to see Alastor inside, but other than the crackling fireplace and the soft music coming from one of the many present radios, he wasn’t there.

Your eyes drifted over to the strange forest landscape, the bayou-like bog habitat seemed eerier than usual. There was a hazy mist present, and you could hear the ambient sounds from the shadows within the forest. Present but unseen.

“A-Alastor?” A chill had overcome you despite the fire roaring close by, and you shivered away the first feeling of being scared. Crossing the threshold lightly, you glanced all around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him somewhere. When you got about 4 steps in, the fire went out, enveloping you in darkness. The shadowy figures around you grew to the ceiling, eyes and mouths present and illuminated.

Scared stiff, you froze in place for a moment before taking a step back. One step and the door slammed shut. You could hear something new coming from the bayou, and it seemed like there was a growing glow from deep within it, pulsing like a heartbeat might. In the depths you could almost hear your name, softly making its way to your ears. Shadows licked at your arms and legs, causing you to shake slightly. You still walked backwards to the door, blindly grabbing for the handle when your back hit the wall. The handle wouldn’t turn and you made a noise of distress.

Suddenly, you heard laughter. Deep and dark, emanating from the trees. It was distorted from static and the creaking of branches and leaves crunching started to get closer and closer. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark slightly, and a figure was almost visible coming out of the tree line. Long, contorted limbs, a massively arched back, tentacles sprouting from it. A large, demented head sat upon a thin, stretched neck and in its massively large toothed mouth was a dead deer. Blood dripped from the lips of this creature, and the only reason you could tell that was the blood, like the eyes of the creature, glowed a steady red colour.

The beast was breathing heavily, and when the eyes locked on you, fainting seemed close by. Your breathing started to stutter, and your eyes welled up with tears. The demon beast dropped the deer, bright red saliva pooling out of its mouth onto the ground, and it began to approach you. The handle in your grip was still not turning, and your free hand began to lift as to prevent the beast from inching closer. A loud hum started to grow in your skull as the gap closed between you. You shut your eyes, a tear falling down your face to fall off your chin as you started to duck your head into your shoulder, hoping whatever was coming wouldn’t hurt.

Suddenly there was a hand on your chin, a thumb wiping away your tear. The hum had stopped, and the strange noise you heard from the forest had stopped. The only thing you could hear now was your beating heart. Your eyes flickered open, shooting over to catch eyes with Alastor. Dressed with a closed lip smile, his eyes were heavy lidded and softly glowing red. You stared in awe, confused, and Alastors thumb continued to rub the edge of your chin, using his fingers to move your head and face him more head on. Thumb grazing your lips, he used it to pull your bottom lip down, cold air drying out the small amount of naked gums. You instinctively tried to lick away the dry sensation and your tongue nicked the edge of his finger, causing him to grip your chin harder.

You attempted to utter his name, but as you started he pressed your lips closed with his thumb as he hummed a sound to keep you silent. His hand freed your chin, and he turned his hand to graze your cheek with his knuckles, and you leaned into his hand when he reached the side of your eyes, and your eyelids fluttered closed, and you made a soft sound of approval. He wasn’t usually gentle, or fond of touching, so the way he was behaving now made your bones melt. You had stopped shaking from fear, but your body still had a massive chill as you started to feel a familiar burn in your stomach.

Suddenly a soft kiss was placed upon your lips, and for a few moments you were unsure of what to do - your eyes had remained closed. Alastor bit your bottom lip in encouragement and you met him with a similar voracity. Very quickly it was if the two of you were trying to consume one another. His hands had drifted to your waist, yours to his jacket, pulling him in close. He was pulling you in return, lifting you up against the wall to have your face closer to his own.

As he lifted you slightly, you wrapped your legs around his waist, the two of you almost trying to become one person with the force you were placing on one another. The sucking sounds of hot, wet mouths meeting and periodic gasps for air had both of your blood burning. He started to roll slightly against your core, and you moaned in return, breaking the kiss and hitting your head against the wall. He started kissing your neck, sucking and biting his way around as he ground against you, eliciting more cries of pleasure from you. Your hands were in his hair now, and your nails raked against the part of his ear that met his scalp, resulting in a moaning growl from the demon, who responded with a bite to your shoulder that had you groaning his name and jerking your hips in tandem with his.

You could feel him smile against your neck, and he pulled back suddenly, causing you to look at him. A thin line of saliva connected the two of you together, and the lustful gaze he was giving you shot an electric sensation down your body. He pulled you away from the wall and spun your bodies around, lips back on yours as he walked with frantic purpose. When he finally stopped he started to bend down, and your ass made connection with the ground as he laid the two of you down onto the grassy marshland that was in his bedroom.

Crickets could be heard again, and the air was no longer chilly, the mist wrapping around the both of you and blanketing you in a subtle warmth. Your legs unravelled around Alastor, your feet coming to either side of him as your knees were bent, enveloping him in your person. His arms were bent at the elbow, and he rested on them as a hand played with one of your ears and the other had a knuckle rubbing your chin, nearly overstimulating you with contact.

At some moment, he raised up and was kneeling in between your legs, having made his jacket disappear in a flash of black shadows, and he was reaching for your top, grabbing the bottom hem of it and dragging it up until you raised yourself up slightly to allow him to pull it off of you. His eyes feasted on your body, your breasts still hiding behind your bra. His thin smile stretched further up his face as a finger went from your navel to your bra, and before you could utter a complaint about him using his claws to sever the middle of your bra, breaking it, his lips were back on yours working in tandem with the hand that was now firmly gripping a naked breast. You moaned in his mouth and he took advantage of your opening, his tongue fiercely fighting against yours.

At this point your pleasure had built so intensely you could nearly feel your eyes build with tears, desperate for more. His hands alternated to either breast, making sure to spread the sensation out evenly, pinching a nipple to have it pebble between his fingers as his tongue dominated your own. Somewhere along the line you attempted to unbutton his shirt, but getting caught up on his bow tie almost immediately. You broke your kiss to utter a firm, “Off.” As you pulled at the fabric around his neck. He chuckled darkly, as he replied with a crisp “Yes dear”, chuckling at your immediate frown at his terrible pun.

He swiftly removed the offending article, and unbuttoned his top two buttons of his shirt before moving his hands out of the way when you started to reach up to finish the job. Lips united once more, he was soon shrugging out of his shirt as your hands went from his shoulders to his waist and back up again. Revelling in the sensation you got from his skin, which was slightly furred - just barely, he gave a stuttered groan as you raked your nails down his back at the sides of his ribs.

His teeth grazed from your neck to your shoulder as the both of you roamed hands freely over one another, revelling in the sensations the two of you were giving one another. Your hands drifted to his belt, and he froze for a moment, mouth hesitating above your collarbone, and a quick glance had you notice the slight tension in his face. He rested his forehead on you, controlling his breathing, and he raised himself up on his hinds to take over where your hands had started. You pulled back, letting him gather control over the situation and he pulled his belt out from their loops, casting it aside. He popped the button off his trousers, and like true 30s fashion, they were without a zipper - simply built with a wide waistline to accommodate wear.

Trousers loose, he directed his hands to your own pyjama bottoms, and fingered the top of them gently. Your hips raised, and the pair of you worked to shimmy them off, you folding your knees to your chest quickly to pull them off your legs before putting them back on either side of him. Clad only in a modest pair of black underwear, Alastor visibly fed on your form, the hunger in his eyes unlike anything you had seen from him before. Arms coming up to cover your breasts from shyness, he dipped down to interrupt your action with a kiss to your sternum that lingered. The hum he gave rumbled on your chest and you released a soft sigh at the tender action. His hands swept over your body, as if memorising it by touch. You yanked at his waistband of his pants and grumbled something about it being unfair he was more clothed, and he responded by gracefully removing his pants and whatever undergarments he was wearing with minor lack of contact between the two of you.

Looking down it was clear he was painfully hard, the throbbing in your head and blood understanding the cause. His tip was glossy with pre-cum, and as he rested above you again, with his hands coming to rest on the ground on either side of your shoulders, the hard length ran against the inner section of your thigh, making you gasp in response. A snarky grin flashed upon his face, barely visible with the lurking soft light as if moonlight was kissing the two of you.

His eyes were bright red at the iris, his pupils blown out. One hand drifted back to your panties, finger folding in between the skin and hemline, and you silently consented with a nod, raising yourself onto your elbows to meet his lips in a chaste kiss. He responded by tearing off the underwear in a swift pull, the tension causing a moment of pain that was replaced with the ferocity of his desire in a kiss.

Pain forgotten, the two of you again attempted to devour one another, the push and pull sensations that the two of you had been resisting for the better part of a month coming to an impasse. His knee moved your own over, and he grabbed your other leg to hoist up and put on his shoulder. Now he was in the prime position to enter you without interference. His tip settled outside your wet cunt and prodded slightly, earning another moan from you. He hissed at the sensation, and your eyes connected again, nearly pleading for permission. You nodded again, but he softly responded -

“Out loud, chère.” Filter free and French had you sighing a soft “Yes,” much to his pleasure.

He entered slowly, the friction of the stretch causing both of you to groan harmoniously. Inch by inch, he took his time, his intense focus clear on his face. You winced at one moment, but urged him to continue when he hesitated. Both new to this experience, taking it slow was no issue. You were eager to take your time having your body clearly worshipped by him, and he was ready to finally consume another human in such a manner. The connection that the two of you shared had complicated his life massively, but he couldn’t remember why he was ever angry about it. The sensations that you were giving him were otherworldly, and the irony that he could perhaps taste a bit of heaven after nearly a century of being in hell made him inhale sharply to withhold a chuckle of laughter.

Below him you were shifting to help with comfort, and he responded by following your body’s lead and moving his own hips. Before long, he managed to fully hilt himself within your willing pussy. He pulled out an inch before jutting back in, causing you to groan in pleasure. He did it again, intent on memorising the face you were making in response to his actions, as it was definitely a face he had not been responsible for before. Your hips attempted to roll, or shift, to meet him and start a new tempo. The throbbing nature of his cock picking up speed, pumping slowly at first before both of you snapped like an elastic band and feverishly met one another, was causing a familiar buildup of burning pleasure within both of your bodies.

His movements became more desperate, and your hands connected with his body however you could reach with the position you were in.

“Alastor,” you started breathlessly, “I’m s-soo, close, I need-” You reached down to your clit, eager to assist with the endgame, but one hand of his swatted at your own and replaced it, his thumb pressing down hard and starting a quick circle around it. You slammed your head into the ground, letting out a strangled wail of pleasure, and started to knead your breasts in tandem with his movements. The two of you for a moment were the only beings in hell, completely oblivious to any goals, or responsibilities expected from the two of you - the only mission at this moment was to come together, in this strange bayou environment, completing this ancient ritual between two restless souls.

A few sharp pumps paired with his thumb picking up speed on your clit had him slamming into your cunt as you lost control and came to orgasm, him meeting your own with a quick uncontrolled jerking of his hips, both of you riding it out together. His hot release was filling you up, and your inner walls were clenching around him, sucking out the final moments of his orgasm. He moved your leg back to the ground and collapsed beside you, pulling out during the movement, and the emptiness was immediate and almost upsetting. You were unsure if it was just the normal action of sex or the unbreaking bond the two of you shared that made you feel like a whole person with him inside of you, but you missed his presence internally already.

Both of you laid in silence, the air hitting your sweaty bodies and reminding you that whatever just happened had, in fact, just happened. You were both getting control of your breathing, and you shivered at the loss of adrenaline and movement, teeth slightly clattering. You laughed sharply at your embarrassing sounds, and covered your face with your hands, apologising for the noise.

He chuckled in response, and came to embrace you, pulling you close to him, enveloping you within himself and holding your head to his chest where you could meet his rapid heartbeat. He covered the two of you with a blanket conjured from who cared where, and the two of you laid comfortably within each other's arms on the bayou earth, breathing together until sleep overtook you.

Whatever you came to him for could wait, not that you could remember anyway. This evening certainly took a strange turn for the better, for neither of you had felt such a sense of completeness since you arrived. Both were eager to revel in it before everything went to shit.

___________

Guess how many times I read this to make sure it wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. So many.

Be prepared, the next chapter is like 7k of just smutty goodness because I figured I owed it to everyone.

Taglist:

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016 @mo-0-o @blakeaha @mutifandomkid @ministarheaven @nightingale0603 @loadedwafflefries @rizzscary @bishiglomper @vividachromatic @fluffy-koalala @mkaella @readergirlstuff @xalygatorx @phisen @rukkshevahna @hazbin-hoetel @white-00-7 @iheartalastor @littlebluefishtail @little-slyvixen @bishiglomper @catticora @alastorssimp @midorichoco @garfieldthomas @spottypug

[blingblong55]

Take me to church- Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy, König, Keegan NSFW

This is based on a request/personal need tbh.

F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI, F!Reader, monster au, incubus au, p-in-v, dub-con/somnophilia

Pt1

A/N: They wont be too long...

A demon like him, fucking a saint like you.

It was a known fact that there were demon like creatures roaming the Earth. Shifting into their human form and living normal lives and their true identities would be revealed, if wanted, at night. You would never expect that the task force you worked with was infested with them. You were always fascinated by them though, always researched on them. You had grown fond of one kind of creature, Incubus. You had seen the stories, the art other people did for them. And secretly you wanted incubus to find its way to you, to make you his for the night. To leave his marks on you, to please you. 

One fortunate night, you roamed base. It was past the curfew your commanding officers had set. You couldn’t sleep, so you tired yourself by taking a few laps around base. You, by accident had seen their true forms (individually ofc) you noticed their horns, the way their eyes would glow, how they had an evil sinister smirk on their lips. Your eyes wandered around his body. His muscles being showcased as the moon shone on them, a small piece of cloth only covering his underparts. You didn’t know why, but just the sight of him turned you on. His eyes scanned the base, he must’ve felt someone was observing him, then his eyes met yours. You quickly turned away, hiding behind some building.You made your way back to your room, hoping this would be forgotten by the morning.

Gaz: As you slept, he crept into your room and felt the soft skin that adorned you. You, so innocently moved in your sleep, he smirks, getting a view of the beautiful breasts that made you. "Gorgeous," he leans down, your neck now tickled by the hair that hung from his head. His lips on your collarbone. You open your eyes in a state of sleep, a dream come true knowing that this incubus had taken a liking to you. Your sleep state returning, knocking you to a new dream. His hands touch your breasts over the silk cloth. He nibbles on the skin of your tits and as the other hand moved your panties to the side, he fucks his fingers into your pretty cunt. You let out a whimper, a kiss from him shuts you up. He kisses from your neck to your inner thighs. His lips were so soft to touch, but that was unusual, a man like him to be soft is something new. Your cunt getting abused by how rapidly his fingers were edging you to the needed orgasm, your head thrown back as you let out a moan. To you, this felt like a realistic dream. His tongue on your folds, thick fingers spreading you apart. Your clit was so sensitive it made his tongue flickering better. Your juices, the forbidden taste of heaven. He swallows as if it were his last meal on earth, fingers you faster so you can squirt in his mouth. Kyle, the human, Gaz, the man that fucks you so good it keeps your pussy yearning for him.

Alejandro: He waited and waited until he knew his precious prey was asleep. Sneaking into your room and stroking his cock under the small cloth that covered his erection. Your ass was accentuated by the nightgown you wore. One peak of your wet cunt was all this horny man in the form of a demon needed. One lick and he would breed you full. It was sex but not just any other sex, it was sinful. His cock, needing to at least feel for your cunt, make him slap his cock on your pussy. His tip in your cunt, making you groan in your sleep. He smirks. Just the tip, let his cum drip from your folds from how good just his tip will feel. He spits on his cock and fucks himself in you. "Fuck," he whispers with a grunt. Your pussy, so tight and so delicious it yells for him to just breed you already. But you aren't ready for him, not stretched enough for his size. You were innocent, and he would be the man in your ear that turns you into his little sex freak. A wet dream, that's what you knew this to be. He presses his tip, letting it hit the right place and then lets his seed fill you. He groans a moan escapes his lips as he pulls out and sees his cum stain your ass and nightgown. So sinful it will have him masturbating to this for days and nights to follow.

König: The gentle incubus sneaks into your bedroom and watches how you play with yourself in the dark of the night. When you sleep, he can't help but get down and lift your shirt, revealing the wet cunt, dripping already for him. He grins and licks the folds, it is ecstasy. A new addiction he will never need the cure for. His tongue in your clit, flicking it like it was his only salvation. You moan, hips buck and he bites the inner thigh. It was a mark to never leave. His pierced tongue, making that sensitive tissue of yours cum again, he chuckles deeply when he feels your juices fill his tongue and throat. He grunts, eyes on your aroused nipples. Giving you what that sick and twisted mind of yours asked for the second your gaze gave you away hours before.

Keegan: He knew well, knew how you touched yourself at the idea of getting fucked like this by a man like him. An entity that walked amongst humans, taking you like his property to fuck senseless, but he wouldn't do that, it would be gradual. This time, he walked to your bed, watched you sleep and then, masturbated and let his cum leak all over your face. He couldn't help but love it and wanted to watch you wake up and notice his dry cum all over your pretty face. His cum would essentially be the mark he left all over your room. He needed it to be the very thing you fed from, the toothpaste you cleaned from, the man that would have all your holes and surfaces covered in his mess. His cock was never in you this night, he just got on his knees, spread your legs and stroked his cock as he filmed how you slept and how he moaned your name over and over again. "This is what good girls should be like," he said as he recorded how he lifted your nightgown and cummed all over your inner thighs. His mess is so sticky but so pretty on your body. It is a horror to most but a turn-on to him.

Tags:

@liyanahelena @lanadelreyandghostfan @anonymuslydumb @heeheehoohoohahahihi @under-the-dirt

[justjams2003]

Desire to be Loved- 4

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)

Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, tell me if I miss any

Word count: 1,8k+

Dividers by: @hyelita

Tags: @intothesoul @briskesby coffeebeforewater @i-voluntears @dreamingblueberries @idkamt @deniixlovezelda

Masterlist

(I've moved that next part link to the bottom)

Once he saw it, it was hard to ignore. The human world looks so dull. So empty and lame. While he’s been in the waking world a century, he hasn’t been around the humans. He hasn’t seen how the humans built new castles and then broke them down. And as he waits outside this church his mind wanders again.  

When speaking to the Fates, they were vague as always. Not to mention, he only had three questions he could ask. He had to weigh what was more important to him. Finding answers or finding his tools. And while her being missing does have an effect on the humans, he has to trust, even a little, that Desire wouldn’t put his shrewd need for power over the well being of the humans.  

While he did say he wouldn’t go in search of the woman, doesn’t mean that he has much control over where his mind wanders to. Why hasn’t he seen her before? Suddenly one day she stumbles into the right basement of the right house at the exact time he’d been caged?  

Is that some strange coincidence or an act of Destiny... Should he go visit Destiny? No, no, that’s not right. He shouldn't bother Destiny about something that doesn’t have anything to do with his realm. About something paranoic jumping up and down the walls of his brain.  

“Constantine!” This woman does have that redish hue coming from her heart. He fights hard to control the twinge of his lip that tries to sneak up on his face. The remanence of love seem to be everywhere. The woman stops in her tracks. “My gran used to tell me stories about you lot.”  

“What do you want with me?” Johanna asks, still keeping her distance from the man clad in black. “Something of mine came into your possession. A leather pouch filled with sand. I need it back.”  

It hurt, seeing Johanna fight and cry over her soulmate. Of course, she doesn’t know that they’re soulmates. She can’t see the red hue grow bigger when they get closer together. Seeing her in this state, before he wouldn’t really care too much. Now...no, no that’s not it. He gave her something just for the last minute of pain.  

Dream didn’t realise love could hurt so much... 

The crowds of hell are all cheering with excitement at the sound of a challenge. “You know the rules, Dream Lord. If I win, you will return my helmet. And if you lose...” The demon slows down. There is so much and so little that can be taken from the Dream Lord. Lucifer's smiles at this. Her wings stretch out in excitement.  

“Why don’t we keep things interesting...? If Morpheus loses you get to have Dream’s soulmate as a slave to serve you in hell for all eternity.” The Sandman’s head snaps up to Lucifer. “Soulmate...?” He asks, his brows furrowing and his lips pouting like it always does.  

The ruler of hell pretend to act shocked. “Oh? Don’t tell me you didn’t know...?” She smirks, a wicked one. She’s playing Dream, but how would she know? Dream is clearly thinking, his jaw is locked. His soulmate? The red arrow Cupid left him, is it their names carved in?  

Did Desire know about this before? Had he been planning this with Destiny? Does Desire and Destiny make soulmates? The same question is if Desire and Dreams make love. That could be the only way that Desire would’ve known to keep Cupid away from Dream. A soulmate... If soulmates are a thing, can Endless have them too?  

“What will it be, Dream? Your helm or soulmate?” Lucifer asks, circling Dream like you would a shark. “You’re bluffing.” He says, the words jumping from him. He doesn’t usually act impulsively. Usually he thinks things through for at least more than a few seconds.  

“If you believe I’m bluffing it should be an easy choice to make.” The Devil points out, still only just fighting off her smile. Is this why it scared Cupid so much to read the names on the arrow? Did she fear Dream that much? Or rather what Desire would do to her if he found they were soulmates?  

That implies that Desire doesn’t know that they’re soulmates. “I accept the terms.” Now he most certainly can’t lose.  

“You have a soulmate?” Mattew caws when they make their way to the storage unit where his ruby is being kept. “I...did not know I had one. I did not know Endless could have soulmates.” The crow looks up at him. “Doesn’t everyone have one?” Dream just shrugs his shoulders. “Not my department.”  

The crow scoffs. “Who’s is it then?” They enter the storage unit. “I did not know soulmates were a thing until now. It seems that there a huge part of the human’s working that’s been kept hidden from me by my sibling.” He explain, already reaching out for the ruby in the box.  

The waking world is looking much better now. Again, he can’t not see every few people having a pink aura. The pigeons gather around him, pecking at the bread he’s thrown on the ground. “What are you doin'?” Dream sighs looking up at Death. “I’m feeding the pigeons.”  

“You do that too much, you know what you get?” Death asks, putting her hands on his hips. Dream doesn’t answer, he just watches the pigeons jumps about after the bread. “Fat pigeons.” Again just more silence from the dream lord. “That's from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?” His eyes slowly turn up to her. “No.” 

The grass is green around the lake. Children run around, giggling with laughter. Dream’s eyes wander for only just a moment. But in that moment he catches a twinkle of a pink dress right in his peripheral vision. His head snaps in that direction. 

Just quick enough to see Cupid come and go in a flash. He stumbles forward to grab her but he’s just too slow. He gasps, his eyes rapidly jump around trying to find her again. Any glance of a pink tule or golden strand of hair. But, nothing.  

He and his sister continue walking. Over a bridge where... there it is again! He runs to the edge of the bridge, leaning over trying to see it again. He saw her, crouching behind some poor human who likely just had their heart broken. His heart is in his ears again but why?  

His sister stops and furrows her eyebrows. She didn’t say anything but Dream knew. “When I was captured, Cupid visited me three times. She was the one who helped free me.” He explains to her then lets the arrow form on his hand. “She left me this. Lucifer placed my soulmate as a betting card before even I knew I had one.”  

Death takes the arrow from him, she too can’t read it. “Cupid, she’s one of Desire’s creatures. Why haven’t you gone to her? See who’s names are on this?” Morpheus doesn’t say anything. His eyes tell it all, that and his reluctance to speak. She rolls her eyes at him, then continues walking on her mission.  

“I wanted to wait until I had all my tools back and now I’m more powerful than ever and yet...” He trails off, is that why he was feeding the pigeons? Waiting for the right moment to go and see her? What if she’s been harmed by Desire? Clearly not, he just saw her, doing well. 

“You’re not scared of Desire, you went to hell with only your sand. It’s something more...” She trails off inspecting each of his reactions. “You are more scared of her. Or rather that it might be true.” Dream scoffs at this. “Just think of the power a soulmate could have over an Endless. If I accept this, anyone could hold her over me.”  

She sighs and shakes her head. “You have one friend, Dream. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you think it’s going to be?” Again Morpheus refuses to speak. “She’s just too pure. Have you seen her before? She has this glowing semblance surrounding for. It...seemed to stop time. And these eyes that just... holds all the pureness in the world. Could you imagine something so... innocent? No malice, no harm, no intent for revenge.”  

“What? Are you scared you’ll taint her with your broodiness?” She chuckles at him. “I’ve had past lovers and none of them...wanted this life forever. Something always goes wrong and I don’t want for it to be the same this time.” He thinks over each word he speaks. When did his heart become this attached to this girl? 

She glances over her idiotic brother. Brothers never know anything about anyone. “Who says it will? Think about it, your previous lovers didn’t work out because they weren’t meant to. You had a soulmate, this time it will work.” They continue down the path, winding back to the park.  

“I cannot force this to happen. Love me because you’re supposed to. I’d be just as bad as Desire, puppeteering her for my lonely heart just as he had.” They slowly find back down to the park where the pigeons still wait for their bread.  

“It won’t be. If it’s meant to be, it won’t feel forced. I have one last appointment. Just try and see what happens?” Dream’s lips only slightly raise in a smile. “It seems I too have multiple missed appointments.”  

He watched her, from the corner of his eye he watched her every step of the way. She flew. Used the wings made for her for her and followed him all the way to Hob Gadling’s little Inn. She thought he couldn’t see her. But it’s strange it feels like she’s breathing down his neck either way.  

“There’s something watching you.” Hob says after a while, looking over Dream’s shoulder. Dream shivers, “I know I can feel her watching me.” He says, his back feels burnt with her glare. “Do you mind, Robert, if I cut this short, it seems there are some urgent matters to attend to.” The English teacher just smiles at him. “Go.”  

In one swift move, Dream stands up from his seat and grabs Cupid, right by the wrist. Like his body just knew where she’d be. “Cupid.” But something is wrong. There’s no reaction from her. She doesn’t pull back or gasp or speak. She just sort of stares at him, swaying on her feet. 

She looks right through him. Worst of all, her eyes they look dull. Her usual glittering brown is now more like dry dirt under your nail. There is no warm inviting pink aura coming from her. Looks like her, but nothing feels like her. She looks hollow, like a shell. Love looks entirely loveless. 

This isn’t Cupid.  

If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask!

Part 3~Part 5 (coming soon)

[ramblingaro]

replaying CF and thinking about how while it is true that there's certain people who thematically fit more with CF, CF is (imo) one of the routes where all the out-of-house recruits staying makes sense.

Because in CF, they are all with you in the Holy Tomb. At the start of the chapter, everyone fights Edelgard because she's desecrating a sacred space and it seems kinda fucked up (it is). After the battle, Rhea tells Byleth to kill her. Byleth is supposed to execute not just one of their students, but a literal head of state. Rhea is, without any second thought, ready to kill a child and throw the Empire into political turmoil (ofc Rhea's trauma does make her response understandable to a degree but that's another post).

If Byleth refuses to kill Edelgard, Rhea snaps. Byleth doesn't declare war on the church. Byleth doesn't turn to fight Rhea. Byleth refuses to kill a student/head of state. And for that "crime," Rhea says she will rip out Byleths heart and turns into a massive dragon, causing everyone to flee the Holy Tomb.

That's probably lowkey traumatic for some, if not most, of the students. Witnessing Rhea's pure viciousness in that moment and watching her turn into a dragon had to have been terrifying. And it confirms everything Edelgard goes on to say about the church. Paired alongside this too, is Edelgard telling everyone that they are not obliged to stay with her. They are free to make their decisions. As conflicted as they are about fighting their homeland, they continue on because they witnessed an event that fundamentally alters how they view the church and they are fighting for someone working to make Fódlan better.

It's telling too, that this is the route where everyone stays together. The other routes, everyone is scattered because the only things that bound them were school and Byleth. But in CF, they're bound together by a world-view altering event and a vision for the future.

[mckiwi]

The Dance of 1650

Chapter Five: Guardian Angel

Read on AO3

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Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Good Omens

Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, OFCs, OMCs

“I did the ‘I was wrong’ dance in 1650, in 1793, 1941–” -Aziraphale S2:E1 39:45

If 1793 was the crepe incident and 1941 was the magic show, what happened in 1650? Or rather, what happened the time Crowley was accused of witchcraft?

---

This is written for Whumptober 2024. All of the prompts will be used by being divided up between six chapters throughout October. Each chapter will have a list of the prompts used in the tags.

“You can quit the begging and praying. No angels will come save you.”

“He will if he ever wants to see me again!” 

Aziraphale wrung his hands together and paced in one of the church’s back rooms. He’d gotten Crowley off of the consecrated ground, at least. That was his most pressing concern, but now that she was dealt with, he didn’t even know where to begin. This was as far as his hastily put-together plan had taken him. 

He could really go for some crepes right about now. And a drink. With Crowley. Far away from this town and Scotland in its entirety. The weather here was too dreary and chilly for his liking, anyhow. 

That could wait. General Bell would be back anytime now, more than likely wanting to discuss Crowley’s sentence. Obviously, he didn’t want her to die, that was simply unthinkable. If Crowley were to be discorporated, she’d be downstairs for decades! Who could he possibly thwart in the meantime? 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could admit to himself he’d miss her company immensely, regardless of the accompanying wiles. But those were thoughts for the back burner, once those were invented. For now, he had more pressing matters. 

Four knocks in quick succession at the door broke Aziraphale out of his thoughts, “Yes? Who is it?”

“General Nicholas Bell. May I enter?” The man announced. 

Aziraphale steeled himself and crossed to open the door, “Hello, General. How can I help you?”

The general seemed slightly put out. “Afternoon, Brother Fell. I was just wondering of your intentions with the demon.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” the angel lied.

Bell searched for his words for a moment before stating, “I’ll admit, at first I thought your intervening with the trial to be troublesome. Brother Rowe let my men and I decide the fate of witches. Your insistence has delayed the witch’s sentence, certainly. But for that very reason, I’m thankful. If we had proceeded with the sentencing without knowing the truth, that poor woman the demon is possessing would have died unjustly.”

What about all the other women who died? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Crowley argued. Aziraphale shoved that thought to the metaphorical back burner, too. “I see. Pardon me if I sound obtuse, but, what difference does it make if your subject is a witch or demon?”

“That’s what I was here to ask you,” Bell answered. “I’m a Witch Hunter. I’ve no experience with the supernatural. You, however, gave me those verses to reveal a demon’s nature and how to cleanse a body with holy water. Do you know of a way to kill a demon?”

Yes. He very well knew how to kill a demon. It was his job, admittedly one he was very bad at. 

Aziraphale looked down at Crawley. Would he kill her? He looked out across the mass of tattered blankets and sleeping children. He looked at the baby who had never been safer than in the arms of a demon. The ark gave a particularly awful lurch, or it might’ve just been the guilt settling in his stomach as he turned the other cheek. “I’ve been commanded to protect every life aboard, and that’s what I intend to do.” 

“You can’t kill this demon,” Aziraphale said in way of an explanation. It wasn’t a lie. They can’t kill Crowley. He wouldn’t allow it. “The most you could possibly do is send it back to Hell.”

Bell nodded, “and how do we do that?”

Aziraphale hesitated, “Give me some time and I’ll have a solution. This is a very delicate matter, you see. I can’t afford any mistakes.”

The general accepted this, “Understood. Thank you for assisting me. Is tomorrow morning sufficient time for you?”

“That should do, yes. I’ll be here in the morning.” Aziraphale agreed. 

His wording seemed to trip something in the other man’s memory, “Your lodgings! I’m sorry for the state we left it in. I will have some of my men repair things for you. By the time this ordeal is over, all of your things will be just as you left them.” 

Nothing would be the same after this was over, but he let it go with a short hum. General Bell took it for the dismissal it was and left Aziraphale to his thoughts once again. 

The sun had long since set on the horizon. Aziraphale had papers strewn out in front of him and a cup of tea that had hardly been touched. It was fortunate angels didn’t need sleep, not that Aziraphale would be able to regardless, not when he still didn’t have a plan in place. 

He’d had several ideas, though none of them seemed worthwhile. His most promising idea thus far involved causing an earthquake and breaking the doors to the cell, allowing Crowley to escape, but that’d been done before, and it’d surely be noticed by humans and Heaven alike. Scotland wasn’t exactly known to have foundation-shattering quakes, after all, so that idea carried about as much potential as a piece of wet firewood. 

Wet firewood… he could suggest Crowley be burned at the stake, but–

No, that wouldn’t work. Aziraphale hung his head in his hands and scrubbed at his face harshly. How had they gotten into this situation again? 

He mulled over several more ideas in the following hours. One such idea involved Crowley turning into a snake and slipping out unnoticed through the mob of people. He thought better of it when he remembered what God had last said to the Serpent of Eden. He will crush your head, and you will strike his heel. Best not to have Crowley around that many snake-crushable boots. 

As the sun rose and the fog dissipated, Aziraphale set out through the village in search of… something. He first stopped by the cells but found them guarded and locked. Crowley was inside, he could sense that much. She wasn’t on the verge of discorporation, at the very least, though Aziraphale would wager Crowley’d complain she’d ‘die of boredom’ if only given the smidgen of the chance. She loved to complain and gripe, though hardly ever did anything to solve the apparent problem. “Why would I thwart my own wiles? That’s meant to be your job, innit?” She’d said once. 

There were three ways they typically executed witches. He visited all three sites and plotted. 

Trial by Water. This was the most common trial, and perhaps the only execution that could somehow be deemed a ‘trial.’ The accused would die either way, but there was the possibility of a posthumous decree of innocence. The witch was tied and thrown into the lake. They would either drown, proving their innocence, or they would survive, only to be convicted of witchcraft and hanged for it. 

Aziraphale eyed the docks of the nearby lake. They didn’t technically need to breathe, so perhaps Crowley could stay submerged long enough for the crowd to disperse and for Aziraphale to fetch her. 

Trial by Hanging. This wasn’t so much of a trial as it was a death sentence, plain and simple. The accused would be hanged for their supposed crimes. At the very least, it would be a swift death. 

Again, they didn’t technically need to breathe, but the rope might cause undue damage to Crowley’s throat or even decapitate her, and Aziraphale didn’t want to risk it. Though, if the rope frayed just so, and if it just so happened to snap… Aziraphale tucked away that idea for further review. 

Trial by Fire. It was less an execution than it was an act of theatre. A spectacle for those fully believed to be witches and to serve as a warning to others. A pyre of wood was lit aflame with the witch tied to a stake in its midst. 

Could he make it so the fire wouldn’t ignite? Or at the very least not harm Crowley? Their corporations were resilient, yes, but still mostly human. Fire would destroy her corporation all the same. 

Hellfire might not, though. 

——————

That afternoon, Aziraphale convinced General Bell the only way to send a demon back to Hell was with fire. Hell was often depicted as a fiery pit of sulfur and brimstone, after all, so it wasn’t too difficult to have the General come to this conclusion. The best lies always hold an element of truth, as Crowley had told him once. 

And so Aziraphale began to plan this spectacular escape. He couldn’t get too close to the Hellfire himself, else he meet a rather gruesome and permanent end, dooming them both in the process. He could remove the Miracle-dampening shackles, however, and tie a knot loose enough around her wrists to trick onlookers but be enough for Crowley to slip through. 

Now all he had to do was get down to Crowley’s cell and tell her of his plan! She would think his plan was genius!

“Full offence, Angel, your plan’s horrible.”

Or perhaps not. 

They bickered the point back and forth until it suddenly came to a screeching halt. 

“Why not!”

“Because it could destroy you!” Crowley bellowed. Aziraphale stared in stunned silence. “I’m not living in a world where I’m the reason you’re not.”

What could he possibly say to that? Aziraphale swallowed, “And the feeling is mutual.”

It didn’t take long before Aziraphale caved and brought the demon into his arms. She stiffened at the contact and the angel retreated, fearing having hurt her, but she ignored his concerns and leaned into the hug. He allowed himself this moment. They would figure things out. They would be okay in the end. He mustered up enough self-control to stand and leave the cell with a promise of wine tomorrow night. 

——————

The rising sun was met with cheerful birdsong, unbeknownst to Aziraphale’s emotional turmoil. A pyre was being set up while other people went about their everyday lives as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Aziraphale felt sick to his stomach. 

Soon enough, a band of people strode forward with two people in tow, one of which being Crowley. She still had the Miracle-dampening shackles on and a gag in place, looking worse for wear. Three days chained to a cold, hard floor hadn’t done the demon any favours. She looked as if she hadn’t slept the entire time if the half-lidded eyes and sluggish movements were anything to go by. Or that could just be the old wounds reopening from the unusual movements after being mostly stationary. Aziraphale, not for the first time, felt a tug of regret. He shouldn’t have ever gotten them tangled up in this mess. A torch was lit aflame and Aziraphale took a stabilizing breath as Crowley was led to…

The docks?

What?

Aziraphale was about to question the purpose of the pyre when he took notice of the second person being brought to trial. 

Doctor John Davis stepped up and was tied to the stake.

“Hang on just one moment! This isn’t what we discussed!” Aziraphale exclaimed and strode over to General Bell. “We said Crowley would have a Trial by Fire! Whatever happened to that?”

Bell nodded, “I understand your confusion. I do appreciate your valiant effort to help the cause, but the more I thought over your words, I realized that if you want something done right, you’ll see it done yourself.”

Aziraphale gaped, “what about the doctor? Where does he get involved in this?”

“He confessed to being a witch in exchange for his daughter’s life,” Bell answered. 

“This is– this is a right outrage! We had a deal!”

“No, Brother Fell, I don’t believe we did,” Bell chided. “I asked for your advice, which you gave. I never said I would do what you said.” Aziraphale was struck with the thought that Gabriel and Nicholas Bell might get along splendidly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a Trial to get started.”

Bell nodded toward the man holding the torch. The man pulled away Davis’ gag and asked, “Any last remarks?”

Davis took a deep breath and spoke, “I only hope my wife will be there to catch me should I fall for my sins and that God will forgive me for my trespasses.” 

Aziraphale sent a quiet Blessing his way. 

Bell nodded toward the man holding Crowley and removed her gag. “Any last remarks?”

Crowley licked her lips and wrinkled her nose in disgust, “yeah, no. I’ve already done the whole ‘Fall for my sins’ bit. Not a fan. But really? This entire charade has been something Hastur would love to hear about. In fact, I think I’ll introduce you to him personally.” At that, Crowley levelled Bell with an impressive demonic glare, which really wasn’t helping her current allegations. 

“That is all then,” Bell started. “I hereby sentence Doctor Davis to burn at the stake and the demon Crowley to be cleansed by holy water.”

Angel and demon looked up in utmost alarm. “I beg your pardon?!” Aziraphale all but shouted. 

Bell exhaled heavily and cast Aziraphale an annoyed glance, “Yes, Brother Fell? Are you in objection to my using the verses you gave me specifically for if a demon should come across my path to God’s Light?”

Aziraphale huffed, “Well I didn’t mean for it to be this particular demon.”

The Witch Hunter caught onto his wording like a hound to a fox’s scent, “Be careful how you speak. You being a minister doesn’t give you any protection from the righteous flames of the pyre.”

Crowley struggled in the man’s hold, “Oi, watch it!” She spat even as the man tightened the ropes. 

“I’m growing tired of these interruptions,” Bell seethed and raised a hand, “benedic aquas has in nomine angeli!”

Aziraphale saw the way Crowley instinctively shied away from the water despite not feeling the effects himself. “So that’s it then?” Crowley asked the Hunter. “You tie me up and throw me in just to die either way. I’ll sink or swim.”

Bell hummed, “‘Sink or Swim’ you say? I like that. I think I’ll use that.” At Crowley’s indignant scoff, the Hunter looked out across the gathering crowd. “Light the fire. Throw her in.”

Aziraphale and Crowley screamed as one as the demon’s back hit the water. 

[arkiliastuff]

Prologue - In a Concrete Jungle

Noah Sebastian x OFC (Aurey)

(pictures edited by me. Originals url linked on the pictures.)

A/N : I thought about this one for a while and, even though I have a lot of other fanfics that are waiting to be finished/written, I wanted to share this one in particular with you :D It's been on my mind for months, the lore maturing in my head. It's going to be a LOT different from what I usually write but I'm trying things and despite the dark mood in this story I hope you'll enjoy it as well ! :D

Warnings/Tags : Strangers/Enemies to Lovers trope, violence, blood, post-apocalyptical universe, cyber-futuristic vibe, "no god, no religion" vibe (I don't mean any form of disrespect in any religion), mention of trauma, death, loss, drugs, mental and physical abuse, trust and abandonment issues. (Just in case MDNI please).

Disclaimer : I haven’t read the comic book “Concrete Jungle” written by Noah Sebastian and illustrated by many cover artists such as Nicola Izzo, Jeremy Wilson and many more, so I don’t know much about the lore and the universe. I just got inspired by the song and the few panels of the comic book that I saw about it. The rest is a pure work of my imagination and it’s not related to anything official. Nothing is canonically official. This is totally fanfiction. And so this is how I pictured the world in the song “Concrete Jungle”.

~The little bean taglist : @valiantroeagleangel @talialovesmiw -> ask me if you want to be tagged :D

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━

She walked there, in this desolate landscape, with a strong determination. Two girls who seemed to look like her friends were following her, looking behind them briefly. Probably afraid of someone or something that will come after them. After all, they went out without authorization. They went out in this no man’s land, caused by gangs and mafias. Many civilians had perished because of this war. The survivors were hiding underground, in the subway. The reason why they went outside was because one of them, a girl with glasses and blue eyes, forgot her necklace at the church where she always went to pray. So after complaining to her friends about her precious loss, the strong-willed brunette who was among them decided to go and get the necklace back. The two other friends eventually followed her even though they were feeling nervous about disobeying.

“If we hurry, we will be back in no time” She said, trying to reassure her anxious friends.

And so, just like the bold brown-haired girl said, they arrived at the place. The church had been bombed. The two girls felt sad about the destruction, but the leader didn't seem to be moved by it. Instead, she was more focused on her mission, looking for the necklace, while making sure nobody would come to arrest them. She was in hypervigilance, almost looking paranoid. She looked everywhere under the seats and chairs that were still there until she saw something shiny. She reached for it and then wiped the dust on it. It was a crux with a silver chain. 

“I found it, Faith.” She stated, calling for her friend.

The latter one walked towards her, analyzing what she found before realizing what it was.

“It's my necklace ! Thank you so much, Audy !” Faith replied happily, using the usual friendly nickname for her friend.

The latter one just nodded in silence, her focus back on her group and looking for their second friend.

“Where is Daisy ?”

The two of them looked around the ruined church before they saw the red-haired girl who was near some candles next to a shrine of prayer. She lit up a candle and prayed in silence for their sake. Faith joined Daisy, lighting up a candle as well while Audy was watching them, starting to get annoyed.

“Come on guys, we cannot stay here too long.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Daisy replied.

A few seconds later a breeze came through, extinguishing the timid flames on the two candles. From this moment, Faith and Daisy stood up and stopped praying, turning on their heels at the same time towards Audy.

“We’re done.” The first one said.

“The Lord has heard our prayers.” The second added.

“What ? Already ? But you just lit the candles a few minutes ago” Audy replied, confusion in her eyes.

“It is the way it is. It’s probably a good omen” Faith said.

“Wait.. Let me just light the candles again.” The brunette said sheepishly.

As she was going slowly to the shrine, about to light the candles with another one, both of her friends widened their eyes in shock, attempting to stop her.

“DON’T !” Daisy yelled.

“DON’T DO IT, AUDREY ! You’re disrespecting His words !”

The long browned-haired one stopped her movement in the air, the spark just above the candle’s wick reaching it slowly but surely. Then, she looked at Faith and Daisy, an angry and dead gaze in her dark eyes.

“Even if I lit up those candles again, do you think it would change a fucking thing for what happened to our city ? To our families ? To our friends ?” She replied, clenching her teeth together as she spat her words like venom, anger getting the best of her, before she continued.

“No, it wouldn’t. Don’t take that fucking breeze as a sign from your Lord, ‘cause you two know better that, if He wanted to help us, He would have done it already. We are responsible for our own downfall. For our own misery. And no Gods will ever help us. Only the demons that you’re afraid of will answer us because they're close to what we are.”

After that, she saw the shock on her friends' faces, trying to reach out to her and yelling at her that she was irreverent by saying those words. It was the shock before the sound of something falling as fast as lightning just dropped on the ruined church. And then everything exploded. Bricks of the building were thrown away at Daisy and Faith’s head, knocking them out immediately. Audrey got hit as well, feeling her blood flowing from her face before blurring her vision. The last thing she saw was her two friends on the ground, blood running from their heads. Then, it went completely white.

━─━「₪」━─━

Aurey woke up, sweating all over her body as she was panting, trying to gain some air. She put a hand on her forehead, trying to wipe the sweat away and checking it. There wasn’t any blood. She sighed in relief but not too long. She knew it couldn’t be just a dream.

“This wasn’t just a nightmare” She whispered to herself, knowing too well this situation.

She stood up, got her gear on her and packed her stuff together before leaving the spot where she slept. She knew she shouldn’t have slept there. 

It was a small cave of collapsed buildings parted together which were composed of cables, metal pieces of broken engines everywhere. 

It could crumble any minute. But she took the risk anyway, as she felt this one was more safe. She didn’t know how long she slept but she was aware it was late. Once she got out, she covered her nose as she smelled an heavy and toxic smoke. It was the smell of somewhat burned vehicles and trash cans not that far away. It was, probably, another threat from a gang who were arguing again in the city.

She put her customized respirator on, breathing again. Then, she started to climb up the ruins, reaching for a higher spot to get a better view. She climbed a few minutes after finding a window, which gave a great opening view from below. She took her binoculars out of her pocket and started to look around. 

Through it, Aurey saw a usual wildfire in the city, on her right. She could barely hear the sound of gunshots. A lot was happening and she hoped her teammates could handle it while she went patrolling on her own. Suddenly she saw something blinking, in the corner of her left lens. She turned a bit more to her left and saw a black car entering the Nameless City. She had never seen a car like this before. This was the first time that she had witnessed new people arriving. Who could they be ? And why were they coming into this hell hole ? She made a mental note to herself to keep an eye on this vehicle and the people who were in it.

Meanwhile, Noah was lost in his thoughts as they were passing through the barbed wire gate of the city. He was just getting bored of the trip, having no idea why they got a call to come here. His partners and best friends in the car told him it was a well-paid mission, but he wasn’t really convinced by it. They had to do some cleanup as they were told. And given the sight of the city it seemed this town needed it. What was left of the police authorities were just broken cars, with no more tire or windows. They probably run away from all the chaos, just to survive somewhere else. Just being out of this mess. Noah kept staring through the window, his chin in the palm of his tattooed hand, just looking at all the clutter those crumbled buildings had made.

“A real concrete jungle…” He muttered.

Then he heard a howl. He was taken by surprise, not expecting to hear such a sound in this kind of city. He listened again, opening his window just to hear it more clearly. Another howling. It wasn’t human. It sounded more like an animal.

“ What was that ? Did you guys heard that ?” He said, his eyes widened as he couldn’t believe his ears.

"Heard what ?" Folio asked, not really paying too much attention to their surroundings.

"A howl. It sounded like a coyote. Or was it a wolf ?" Noah continued, his ears attentive to any other sound.

But the howling animal had stop. He still had no idea what his friends and him were getting into but he promised himself to investigate this strange city.

[degrees-of-fuck]

[vibrant-dol] CURRENT KNOWLEDGE IRRELEVANT i wanna know how your funny guys feel about living in dolville >:]

!!!!!!! OMG hi!!! OOH that is a fun oneeeee hmm

Clara the Phantom:

It's like- Fine. I guess. It's fine. She just needs to get through this week and everything will be okay. (And then she needs to get through the next week. And then the next. and so on forth.)

Because her family's been entrenched in the system of the orphanage for so many generations and because she really just. Avoids the church and all that, she can't really quite conceive of an alternative. She can just... Be glad she wasn't exposed to the 'real world' sooner.

Despite how much she detaches herself and downplays it all, she does sometimes, in a small and despised part of her mind find that she prefers to be at Eden (the canon dol character)'s cabin, or at the underground farm. But it's fine. She doesn't feel much of anything. She would never lie to you (hilarious lie)

Lettice the Heavensent:

Sheltered as shit even after turning 18 so she doesn't see the full extent of it. Only ever really sees Wolf Street, Nightingale Street, The Woods and sometimes as a rare treat sneaks off to the cafe or the hookah parlour. shh. However, she does play Emotional Support Doll/Minor Religious Guide for people a whole lot, so she hears things. And she sees the state of the statue in the temple. And she sees and experiences a lot of what happens within its walls!

So as little of the town she sees, she fears for it greatly and she knows that in her current situation at least, she is. Quite miserable, despite how much she tries to distract herself from that. She's pretty torn on the whole thing, between a sense of duty, even if mostly to people that have only abused her, or been too forcibly kept in the dark to help her - and leaving and finding some sort of life for herself (SCARY! Freedom is SCARY! Living under the thumb is miserable, but SAFE and FAMILIAR!) I need her deprogrammed SO bad.

Esmee the Astray:

For starters, the twins are French-Japanese and spent their like... Early childhood in France, so they are vitally, out of towners! (They got abandoned </3) So they know that this town is WEIRD. I think a bit of them just thinks it's a British thing though, even if they did likely live in another part of the UK before DoLtown. As for Esmee specifically... After ceasing to actually Show Up to the temple, she's found a. Weird, sick sort of comfort in this place. She likes pain! She yearns to be wanted, but "knows" that's not possible off of her own merits, so to be pursued to be raped and abused is... Good enough!!! She's the type of person that seeks out Morgan on purpose, enough said,,,,

Yeah. She knows the town is Fucked with a capital F, but she's sort of managed to twist her psyche and her perception of things so thoroughly that she now believes that if she didn't have to pay Bailey for both herself and her sibling's Wretched Existence, she'd Thrive here! She loves violence and she's managed to maintain her angel tf this long! (This ofc only matters because if she falls and becomes a demon, she will no longer be identical to her identical twin.)

She loves it! Chaos Reigns and she doesn't care about the deeper issues! Just leave her alone and let her roleplay marriage with her unwilling rapist headmistress in peace!

Eden the Pianist (My OC Not The DoL Character):

Eden however HAAAAAAAAAAAAATES it here. To the point of being sort of mildly agoraphobic. They desperately desperately desperately want to go back in time, to when everything was fine (lie. their parents sucked enough to ditch them) and they were happy (another lie) They hate seeing what this town has done to Esmee, who they try to remember as having been Happy and Innocent until this filth town Ruined her. And as much as they'd both have you believe - and try to have themself believe otherwise, they do feel the town corrupting them sometimes.

They deal with that and various other issues of theirs by throwing themself fervently into the temple and indulging in mountains upon mountains of self-deception. They're very good at it. In truth, a lot of their worse impulses would be there anyway, but they find it much much easier to just... Blame it all on the town. (Certainly not on their repression or on the really unhealthy worldviews and relationships they've developed to sustain themself off of) They're only an initiate, so they don't know a whole lot of temple lore, so they do sometimes find themself cooking up strange little crackpot theories about why the town is the way it is. They sort of hate themself for being too "weak" to be able to save up enough money to get themself and Esmee out of there tbh. Not very good at making any money at all.

DFIJLKM;hukml this was such a fun ask ty htrbgipfoipjok;mcijpk;vlnj

[cheesesoda]

leons-little-slut requested

“Can I request a Luis Serra x reader? We need more of him with how amazing his character is in the remake, maybe just some fluff if that’s okay to ask for 😭💖💖(Idon’t really use Tumblr too much and don’t know if I’m requesting right, so sorry if I am 🥲)”

a/n: ofc bbg i gotchu 😽😽 spanish is in italics (“lo siento” means “im sorry”)

luis sera x reader

genre: fluff

cw: none

señorita

you were discovered in a sleeping bag by leon kennedy, a government agent looking for the president’s daughter. he let you out along with another man. “wow, at least i get to see a pretty señorita after being stuffed in that sleeping bag for so long,” the man grins and kisses the back of your hand. “name’s luis sera.” you smirk back at him. “y/n l/n.” you had to admit, he was pretty attractive.

the two of you became fast friends, always making jokes and laughing even in the most dire situations (much to leon’s annoyance). you and luis accompanied leon on his mission to find “baby eagle” and when you found her in the church, you bonded with her as well.

“nice shot, señorita!” luis smirks at you when you hit multiple bullseyes at the shooting range. you jokingly pretend to blow smoke off the tip of your gun and wink at him. ashley observes the sight.

“i swear, luis, be more careful! geez, it’s almost like you want to get hurt!” you scold the man. “maybe i do, i mean, when else do i get the privilege to be taken care of by such a pretty señorita?” he winks. “if that’s your motivation, then you’re tending to your own wounds from now on.” you groan. “lo siento, señorita!” he pleads, grabbing both your hands as you laugh at him. ashley smiles at the sight.

as ashley and leon walk behind you and luis, ashley observes the two of you. you’re laughing with luis about some inside joke that makes no sense whatsoever to leon or ashley. you put your hand on his shoulder to stabilize yourself from falling over and end up resting your forehead on that same shoulder. ashley giggles at your laughter.

while leon and luis are out trying to find an exit to the village, you stay behind in the safe room with ashley. as you clean your gun, you feel her gaze upon you. “yes?” you look at her in anticipation. “soooooooo,” she grins. “you and luis, huh?” you give her your full attention now. “what? nooo! we’re just friends.” you scoffs unconvincingly. “yeah and i’m the president of the united states.” she rolls her eyes. “you’re his daughter.” you deadpan. “shut up,” she giggles. “anyway, it’s so obvious!” you stay silent for a minute before responding. “sure, let’s say i do like him, hypothetically. it doesn’t matter cuz he doesn’t like me.” you groan. “uh, are you blind?” ashley asks. “not to my knowledge. i just know that he flirts with every girl. it’s not like i’m special.” you reply. “the inside jokes! the compliments! the looks! the little touches! he SO likes you!” ashley exclaims. “ya think so?” you whisper. “oh, i know so. just tell him!” she encourages you.

once the two get back, ashley makes some excuse to get her and leon away from you and luis. “luis,” you inhale. “i wanna tell you something.” he looks at you with concern. “what’s wrong?” he asks. “nothing, i just…” “you can tell me.” he reassures you, grabbing your hands. you take a deep breath. “i really like being around you. i like laughing with you and talking with you and just all of it.” you tiptoe around the words “i love you”. “if i didn’t know any better, señorita, i’d think you’re confessing your love to me.” he chuckles. “i am.” you blurt. he looks at you in shock for a moment before smilingly softly at you. he takes your cheeks in his hands and presses a soft kiss to your lips. “i love you too, señorita.”

[findingrome1]

Peace be with you all friends, happy All Hallows Eve to you!! This will be a somewhat lengthy post because I think I have some ideas worth sharing.

So for those of you who don't know All Hallow's Eve is the day before all saints day. The day when the Church remembers her saints. The Catholic and Orthodox churches alongside high church protestants observe the day as to keep alive the memory of those who gave their lives to the faith, either working tirelessly to spread the Gospel, help us to understand the nature of God better, or literally gave their lives in witness for the Gospel.

A few saints outside of the Bible I think are worth sharing.

Saint Athanasius- 5x exiled for defending the divinity of Christ and kept fighting heresy.

Saint Anslem- Theologian who made the ontological argument of God.

Saint Patrick- Herald of God's kingdom to Ireland.

Saint Maximilian Kolbe- Took the place of a married Jewish man destined to be killed in WW2 at the cost of his life.

Saint Justin Martyr- Early Church Father who recklessly defended the Christain faith, to the point of writing letters to the Roman Emperor to debunk rumors. This cost him his life.

Sadly (at least to me) this day marks the anniversary of when Dr. Martin Luther nailed the 95 theses, which contained 95 points of protest against the perceived and real problems occurring within the Roman Catholic church. Ofc the indulgences scheme to build Saint Peter's Basicillia comes to mind yet there was plenty of clerical and liturgical abuses, inconsistentcy in training for the priesthood going on too. I am not going to talk about why I think the Catholic position is more correct. Plenty of smart people have done this before me. What I will offer are a few ideas to foster deeper unity.

Working in common interest- while having deep differences Catholics, Orthodox and Lutherans share a common foundation and values. For example Christian orthodoxy (just right belief, not the churches) rejects aborti0n. Think about how much more of a statement it would be if Catholics and Protestants if instead of holding separate marches were one big march at state capitals?

Learning from one another- As Thomas Aquinas said "All truth, is God's truth". While I don't believe God intended his beloved Church to fracture this to me seems very human. God works with human errors as he did with Israel when they fractured, God's grace and power works through all who strive to know him. While I am Catholic I still consume non-Catholic Christian media. For example on Youtube the Lutheran Pastor Jordan B. Cooper, makes videos about the Lutheran confession explaining it. These videos help inform me so I don't strawman Lutherans and I better understand the Catholic faith by seeing the differences. Furthermore he makes other videos especially on etiquette which is informative.

Talk to each other- similar to my first point, but different enough to be worth mentioning. If we talk to each other, it will do so much good. When we talk to each other it will break down prejudices and enlighten both parties quickly. We will see each other as more than souls 'on the wrong side' but friends who we value and care to learn more about.

I hope this post gives some helpful thoughts. May the love of Jesus Christ that surpasses all understanding br with you all.

[petrichor-reminiscence]

my restoration thots

everything is gonna be under the cut just incase people havent seen it yet, so uh spoiler warning under the cut!

there were a lot of things that bothered me. enough that tbh i don't remember them all, but i wanna start this off with the positives and things i liked ^^

first of all, my favourite thing ever, TEX AND CHURCH FINALLY GOT THE ENDING THEY DESERVED! i actually screamed when caboose brought back tex instead of church actually, and the whole thing also about her being brought back in their memory instead of the directors? their memory of her always kicking their ass and winning and being strong and brave and oaisjdgoasg all of that? screaming actually screaming. and her and church walking away in the memory unit thingy into the distance and jsiogjasdgiojadsgiosdg they got their happy ending that i've always wanted for them and that makes me very happy.

also, the va for caboose, let's talk about him rq. ofc it sounded wrong to me, he wasn't the og caboose, it wasn't joel, but the guy tried his best and i absolutely love that for him. i think he did a pretty good job, especially since the poor guy had 17 fuckin seasons of iconic caboose to live up to so ofc no one is going to actually live up to that. he did pretty damn good and if i see any hate about him i will cry thank you.

now, onto things that i enjoyed kinda but also were just oaijdsgioasdjg ahhhh y'know?

first, sarge's death. ouch. owie ouch ouchies ow. that shit hurt man. i think they did it pretty well though, and the fact that he died protecting a blue?! gave simmons his shotgun and told him he was proud of him?! told grif he never gave up on him even when grif himself had?! oasjdgisadjgs. he's their dad, their dad fr. it broke my fucking heart, but i like how it was handled, i was decently satisfied with it. i like how they buried him back in blood gulch, where it all started. it felt really fitting.

also, the fact that they kept church dead. tbh i'm glad they did. i was thinking with their whole talking about memories around the campfire, like if it were to bring back church, tbh i wouldn't have liked it. his death in 13 wouldn't have been as meaningful, as impactful. plus, them bringing back tex who we haven't really seen since season 10? iconic i loved it they brought my wife back and i loved every fuckin second of it.

next, something i have big big big thoughts on that i don't know how to organise: wash's ptsd and everything. first off, finding out he'd been hallucinating doc the entire time?! fucking OWCHIES :( and like at the end when lina was talking to him and reminding him that these things weren't his fault and how it came across in visions of his other beloved freelancers showing up and talking to him? screaming actually. watching wash and his mental state and how everything unfolded hit particularly close to home for me, as a ptsd-havin bitch myself ^^; the way he was treated like he was fuckin crazy in the hospital made me sick to my stomach, and then finding out oh hey wait he actually is a bit crazy he's hallucinating doc because he blames himself for his death i'm like welp okay that's oaisdjgosadjgoisgj. just seeing how they handled that reminded me so much of things i've gone through myself, and idk if i'd say it was handled well or not but it was certainly handled in a way that's for sure ^^; might just be some of my internal biases because topics like this make me feel sick for personal reasons ofc, but uh yeehaw lol yeehaw.

also, meta tucker. screaming. the flashes of him pulling through while being controlled and him like apologizing to caboose and caboose being like 'i've already forgiven you for whatever you'll do' AOIGSDAIG YEOWZERS :( my brain hurts man. and with sigma too, sadly it wasn't elijah wood, but miles luna did a phenomenal job imo, it really sounded like og sigma to me and had me convinced they got elijah for the final season up until i saw the credits lol. also, the fact that there was such a lack of meta/tucker and wash interactions??? heresy. blasphemy. illegal. i will be beating my head against the wall thank you.

ALSO. LACK OF DONUT WAS FUCKING TRAGIC. but, ADMIRAL donut? proud of our boy for working through the ranks! but i'm so upset we didn't get to see him other than a simmons flashback/vision of him in a fuckin cheerleader outfit - which honestly? iconic. at least we got something.

and the last thought of the post, fuckin grimmons. grif and simmons. i'm gonna put my head through the wall osaidjgsioadjgsdiogjsdag. the way that the first thing simmons did as red team leader was set grif free because he's always known about how much he wanted to leave, 'if you love something let it go' or whatever oiasdgjdsoiagjsd. grif deciding to stay for the fight before heading out, their goodbyes and grif inviting him to visit even though he knows it's probably never going to happen but he had to try anyways, aiojsdgoisjgoisdjg i'm screaming crying throwing up actually. they should've made out though so rip for that missed opportunity :( i enjoyed the moments we got but i also wish we got more if that makes sense, y'know?

anyways that's all i have the mental energy to blab about for now, because oaisdgjodsiag agh y'know? drained from fuckin sobbing so much all day lmao i'm just a lil guy ^^;

might post a pt 2 to this though, copy-pasting the notes i took on my phone like while i was watching lmao. fair warning though it's a MESS because i was typing without looking plus a lot of autocorrect haha. i'll probably post it anyways though because i find it really funny tbh lol

[custarcake]

Hello :) may I request angst for the sad cowboy? :3

*not forcing ofc!*

YES!!! yes yes yes yes!!! I love love love angst for Texas :33 He's my BOY.

angst hcs below!!!

warning for: religious trauma, internalized homophobia+racism, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and general things that'll hurt

- you can take Tejas ---> Texas from my cold dead hands,, the CHANGE. life has not been easy on this cowboy for sure.

- POC who grew up during the era of colonization...... he has a lot of shit that hasn't been unpacked.

- Catholic and heavily guilty, was born with the weight of sin on him. During New Spain, he could never realize how much people loved him, too focused on what was wrong with him and how he could make it better.

- he craves affection and personal relationships but also tries to keep himself at an edge with the other states, being gruff and unfriendly on purpose bc he wants to seem "tough" and "unaffected" after being left so many times.

- heavy abandonment issues. guy has been left plenty of times -- and also leaves people a lot. he says things he can't take back, and he has a very soft heart. he hurts and can be hurt.

- he's so sad and angry and generally upset when he's in deep love and he's aware of it. it's a man he's falling for -- and all he can think is, what would God say? he wants so badly to be perfect for God, and for everyone at Church.

- on bad terms with a lot of the other states outside of his region.

- he always ends up getting attached to humans, no matter how much he knows they'll end up dying. it starts off simple, with buying coffee everyday at a local coffee shop, but then he gets their names and then... well, he's at their death bed, wondering why he's always the fool.

- can never talk about his feelings. it's impossible for him 😭 he tries but then he just ends up denying it bc he wants to be a strong man so much.

- alcohol issues 😋

- daddy issues;; I like to think that, instead of having one singular real father, he had multiple father figures throughout his life, all of which ended poorly

- he'll literally end up running away instead of dealing with his problems. oh, you wanna discuss what's the matter like a healthy adult? Texas is already across the country on horseback.

[plusvanity]

idk if youve done this or want to do this but, any travis headcanons? 👉👈

just love your style of writing. :3

Ofc!!! <3 and thank you very much, you're such a lovely person, I've seen you a lot on my reblogs/ likes and I wanted to thank you for supporting me <3 I honestly HOPE this doesn't sound too weird, haha.

So, here comes Travis:

-Travis is a very soft boy inside but he's masking it very well.

Growing up, he was a pretty curious and active child. He loved his mother to no end as she was the most beautiful, compassionate, generous and gentle soul he ever found in a person. (He realized that a lot later in time)

He'd do anything with her. Play, pray three times a day, thank God for every little beautiful thing in his life, help around and just be the silly little boy that he was.

He always feared his father even though, when he was little, all the punishment was verbal and/or regarding the chores that he hated to do.

(There was tension, hostility and disinterest in his father's behavior but nothing to be too outrageous..Yet. Needles to say, this stayed like this due to his mother's presence in the house that acted as an referee, calming down her demented husband and soothing little Travis's pain away)

Unfortunately from here, things only go dark and.. blindly assuming that u know what I'm talking about lol, here's the part when Travis mothers gets ill, the cult doesn't do anything about it, Travis is way too young and insignificant in this whole equation to do anything himself and... she eventually dies.

-Travis's first trauma hits harder than his father's slap.

Now, young Travis found himself in a very disturbing and visceral reality. It might all seem like a horrible nightmare (and that's how he saw it back then) but unfortunately it's not.

Dissociation was his only way out. No, he didn't develop the full DID, but his massive trauma triggered his brain to such an extent that it needed to shut down lots of processes in hope to self-preservate and get away from the pain. (This is the easiest way I can explain it but of you're curious in HOW utterly shocking the whole process is, search on Google 'brain neuroimaginy while dissociating' and you'll see that the cerebral activity shrinks to almost no activity at all)

He went on living with this whole disaster on his shoulders, suppressing the trauma as much as he could.

Nobody was on his side, nobody acknowledged that what they 'let happen' was absolutely immoral and cruel. Nobody fucking admitted they were wrong.

Classic religious approach for 'Meh, SHE wasn't meant to be, I guess???'

- Now, alone with his barely-wanted son, the passive-aggressive treatment began to escalate into nasty shit.

Travis got much more involved in the church community, now with a stable role in the church's chorus and as his father's 'right hand'. Their dynamics never screamed 'abuse' from a distance... or maybe it did but that's how ignorant the church community was????

Punishments moved from verbal abuse and degradation to physical. Fists, kicks, hair pulling and dragging across the floor (This one is bad, believe me for a fucking reason lol) and food interdiction.

-With no way around or soul to listen to his pain, he kept everything inside, locked the misery with a key, crossed his fingers and hoped for it to.... miraculously dissolve overnight?????

-First romantic interest.

I wouldn't really call it a 'romantic interest' as he was a middle-schooler BUT first crush.

It was a boy his age that he befriended within the church community.

The little attention, compassion and fun they had, quickly unlocked the emotional burden on Travis's heart. In a naive and very impressionable state of mind, Travis found himself pouring his heart out to that boy. He told him the things he wasn't supposed to tell anyone in hope for understatement and more compassion.

Not gonna lie, it made the other kid feel very weird and confused. He didn't say too much, thing that made Travis's heart..... ache.

The second Worst Day of His Life quickly came when Travis, naively assuming that the other boy had mutual feelings for him, made the worst mistake.

The kiss was like a blink of an eye.. and the kid went broadcasting the event to everyone around the church.

When Travis's father found out it was...bad to say the least. The rage, the shame and the disappointment for his brat of a son came in bloody fists, kicks and bruises.

That day, it teached Travis an important lesson in life. 'Don't you ever open up'

As the things escalated, fear naturally turns into hate. Hurt turns into rage (you see where this is going) and he begins to harden up.

-Travis puts on a mask but... not so much really?

His anger is almost unbearable. The steam and fuel drives him to act as a semi-copy of his father, crashing on small prey, in his case, Sal's gang (with Sal especially as a target) This reaction is natural and expectable from a deeply traumatized kid.

Jealousy acts as a reassuring factor that 'Yes, he needs to slash and burn the blue haired boy'

He uses all the slurs and insults that destroyed him as a weapon because in the end, he doesn't hate Sal. He hates himself.

-He desires happiness, human relationships, closure and security. He does. He misses his mother so much, he'd rip his heart apart to see her one more time.. he seeks comfort, softness and understanding in Sal. He sees the love he needs the most and he's utterly incapacitated to chaise that love. Not when he treated Sal this way for all these years.

-Travis lets someone in, learns a healthy coping mechanism and earns a valuable friend.

When Travis and Sal get close, Travis explodes with everything that hurt him, narrating Sal his whole damn life, finally allowing himself vulnerability for the first time in the eyes of a true caring person.

-Travis follows the journey of healing without hating himself and allows Sal to guide him through the process.

Travis has a very long way to go but he finally realizes that there's light at the end of the tunnel. Generational trauma is a new perspective that he needs to explore in hope to give himself a bit of comfort. 'It's not you personally that they try to bring down, it's anyone in your place that will experience this conflict'.

He comes to terms with how beyond repair his father's roots and beliefs are and he tries his best to distance himself from the misery... as much as his still-minor position allows him.

It's all about making it livable for now..

-Travis learns to value his new friendship with Sal more than he desires a relationship.

Some happier trivia now.???

-Travis is pretty good at singing!

-Travis gets to love David Bowie because he reminds him of the time Sal sang and played 'Heroes' for him. The song and the meaning grew inside his mind as one of the best memories and happiest moments of his life.

Another song that he listens and laughs a bit in irony is: Modern Love. "Never gonna fall for (modern love) Walks beside me (modern love) Walks on by (modern love) Gets me to the church on time (church on time)' it's about Sal, obv :3

-Travis used to get involved around school activities too to put on the 'Pretty Preacher's Son' mask to simulate false-perfection but he grew out of it thanks to Sal.

-Travis loves long walks and talking and laughing at silly little things.

-Travis vision on religion:

Part-time atheist, Part-time believer. The religious trauma and guilt is not something that he'll ever grow out of. It's something that can't be changed and in order to survive, he needs to change his life vision.

There are times when he hates God, blames him for turning his back when he was suffering. There are times when he still clings to the idea that there's something out there, something that... brought Sal in his life. There are times when he sees Christianity as nothing but a mass-controlling copied and revamped religion imported from Egypt that instead of bringing the people closer to God, it actually alienates them because of all the punishment and un-bendable rules that made the Bible be the fucking Bible.

It makes people selfish, judgy and look down on other religion because FUCK U if u don't think like me- broken mentality.

Alright, I genuinely HOPE this is a bit of a more in-depth analysis of Travis and his contradictory personality. If you feel like asking anything, feel free to do so! I doubt that this post is fully readable lol.

Anyway, have a great day!! <3 :3

[seijuroraizel]

So, I don't speak a lot here or anywhere, but today, I want to speak about the "brave" and "honest" person you might know here as muttpeeta or as attheredmind on AO3 which I had the unfortunate experience of following someone like her for a couple years now without knowing the kind of person she is.

So, following some meaningless squabble about New York Times POTT, someone brought up to her attention -or she might have addressed that herself- that people associated with the current genocide going on in Gaza AND West Bank (where there is no KHAMAS!) Were more deserving to get the award or title whatever, since the newspaper gave it to president Zel of Ukraine last year. atthered mind didn't like that apparently, so she answered by some nonsense and amidst her replies to the anons she claimed she is neutral and that she sympathize with the "people suffering in Gaza and Israel". But then she followed that sweet talk with tags accusing the Palastinian and Gaza's side of committing crimes of murder and rape against "Jews". Now notice the stereotypes which she uses. Saying Jews instead of Israeli. As if the Palestinians are targeting all jews. And no Jews stand against Israel.

Then in another reply, she simplified the situation as "war" between Muslims and Jews.

She was so upset about ppl calling her out about that as anons and wanted someone to confront her by their names. So I did. And guess what, she run away and blocked me 🙂😂

But sorry muttpeeta, I'm not letting your Zionist propaganda slide. And everything will be backed by actual evidence and sources -Israeli ones too- and not words in the air.

So first things first. Muttpeeta claims about rape and murder were addressed multiple times by both Palastinian and Israeli sides. Israeli government said they found no evidence of sexual assault. Image from The Times of Israel.

On the other hand, there are uncountable vitrified cases of rape crimes by the Israeli military, but Muttpeeta won't mention that ofc

And I think we can determine the truth of these claims, on both sides, from the statements of women held captive.

The murder... there sure was murdering cases by Palastinian personals in that day. Which I personals considered grave mistakes that need punishment. And Gaza's government stated that those actions -and civilians kidnapping by the way too- were against the orders given. Also that most of these cases were carried out by persons not affiliated with Hamas. But to claim that all the dead were civilians and by Hamas hands? Look for yourselves. The white names are civilians, and the yellow are military

Ok, are we certain all tgese were killed by Hamas? No. In more than one statement, Israeli officials and officers in their panic revealed that Israeli army killed civilians that day

Watch

While Hamas condemned killing and kidnapping civilians, you will find the Israeli government shamelessly calling to use nuclear on Gaza, or kill 150 thousand of its population or calling these people human animals... things you would have heard of from Hitler and his Nazis.

Muttpeeta didn't like when Intold her this.

Finally, this is not war between "Muslims and Jewish" this is a genocide carried out by one of the strongest armies in the world, backed up by superpowers innthe world against Palastinians who have no water, electricity, medicine, food let alone an army to defend them. This is a genocide against Palastinians, Muslims AND Christians. Just 10 days ago Israeli bombes one of the oldest churches in the world, killing many of the ppl who were seeking a safe place there.

Here is a great video from President Carter about Palastine

And for further informations I would recommend this video here

It has English caption. It's long but worth it. And it's all from Israeli sources.

I would also strongly recommend following Norman Finkelstein, Miko Peled, Noam Chomsky, who are ALL Jews, and Miko even Israeli, but they have the humanity in them to stand against Zionism and its genocidal agend.

To Muttpeeta, next time, either be contented with anon replies (I wasn't one of them, btw) or be brave enough to continue a debate once you start it. I hope someone, even if anon delivers this to her or it reaches her, is in any way.

[galaxirin]

Hehehe brainrot time

You know that thing about the Holy Blades having their ideals come from Knights and the only existence of knights being Cainhurst knights? Yes 👀

To start things of: Ludwig and Maria are distant cousins. Enough that they have small similar features but it’s enough for them to be extremely close as both friends and family

Ludwig’s family line is a smaller nobility from Cainhurst that left the castle for more business opportunities

Ludwig’s mother is entirely Cainhurst (silver hair and all) while Ludwig’s father is a foreigner. He has his mother’s eyes and stature and his father’s looks

He has 2 older siblings who have the telltale silver hair though, he and another younger sibling are the only ones with dark brown hair

He and Maria met during a banquet and soon enough trained together to be knights (Ludwig left slightly earlier however to further his studies in Byrgenwerth since he knew much more about the world outside the castle unlike Maria)

Maria is a few months older than Ludwig which she often teases about, especially when she soon enough grows to be much taller than him lol

He and Maria used to have secret conversations in the traditional Cainhurst tongue since they’re the only ones in the Church who could speak it fluently (soon enough Laurence too since he felt left out lmao)

The one and only time he ever used the Vileblood arts was in a Chalice dungeon raid gone wrong, Years before he discovered the Holy Moonlight Sword. He ofc tried to hide it but Laurence (in extension Gehrman) saw the large bloodstain on his torso and immediately knew

Not incredibly skilled in the art due to a mutual agreement that he would never use it (Maria gave him an earful once she found out tho lol) so any blood flames that could be seen are extremely small

They all decided it would be in their best interest to hide it because Logarius and his Executioners will actually start a civil war within the Church if they find out their leader is a Vileblood (extreme irony 🤭). I also like the thought of Ludwig and Logarius not liking each other at all regardless if he knew the other’s secret or not

Tho now u could probably guess how he handled Maria’s death which was ah,,, not pretty. Almost outright quit but his delusions in saving everyone in Yharnam made him stay being a Hunter

Was both happy that Logarius was gone after the siege at the castle but also devastated that a lot of his distant family members are dead which did not help with his mental state at all

I also like the idea that Cainhurst royals can trace their bloodline back to the Pthumerians. Add that the Holy Moonlight Sword could be a Pthumerian relic, it just saw the closest relative to the ancient race at that time and decided to show its “light” and rune to him only. Maria just wasn’t outside the research hall enough to see the sword herself but if she did she would’ve seen a bit of the light (Ludwig never visited her while armed for both comfort and to make sure the patients don’t freak out)