#demons are often described having claws
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What the (rhesus) monkey nails look like:
My idiot brain Every. Single. Time. someone describes Macaque and Wukong with claws:
#monkie kid#lego monkie kid#lmk#no any shade towards anyone#demons are often described having claws#some monkeys have claws#the nails in the first picture are probably really sharp even though they look like human nails#but every time I see someone calling them claws#My idiot brain automatically imagines a monkey with fancy manicure#stock images#Sf rambles
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Heat: Part Two
Part One
Pairing: Alastor x Reader (AFAB) Lamb/Sheep Reader
Warnings: MINORS DNI, Smut, fingering, fluff, very gentle touches, heat, female anatomy
Word Count: 3,128
It’s barely dawn when he wakes. At first, Alastor isn’t sure what had woken him. Although he was often an early riser, he had figured the long night keeping watch over his soul-bonded would have made him sleep later than usual. He flicks his eyes around the room he had moved them to for a moment. It is after he has taken stock of the room, and the dim, red light filtering through the curtains, that he hears it. His little lamb is whimpering.
Alastor sits all the way up so he can look down at them. His first instinct, had, of course, been to make sure that they weren’t hurt. With the way their brows are scrunched tight, and the soft sounds leaving them, he still wasn’t sure.
“Ma bichette, you should wake.” He settles his hands on their shoulders, going to shake them, but their eyes pop open.
Their eyes, which are normally blue with black sclera, have become black voids. Alastor felt as if he was staring into empty space. It was oddly hypnotizing. As they move, incomprehensible noises escaping them, their scent drifts up to him. It is almost overpowering, and stronger than it had been in the last two days. His head feels heavy, and the itching beneath his skin returns.
“Oh, my dearest, I do believe it has begun.” He kicks back the blanket, to help them untangle their legs. His soul-bonded moves around the bed, their eyes scarcely leaving him for even a moment.
“Alastor,” They whisper. Oh, their voice! It was heavenly, and it only drew him in further. “Alastor, please.”
Their pleading, in their breathy whisper, sends heat down his abdomen. The fiery heat growing within him feels very much like how they had described their symptoms. Every bit of his body felt too confining. But oh! He mustn’t get distracted with his own feelings. His little lamb needed him.
“Come here, ma moitié,” he calls. He opens his arms, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. He watches as they hesitate, nose twitching as some instinct calls for them to do. With a tilt of their head, something in them decides he is safe, and they crawl to his lap. His arms immediately wrap around them, pressing them as close to his chest as he can get them. Their heat is the comfort of a roaring fireplace in winter, and it makes him shiver. He drags his nose into the wool atop their head, breathing in deeply. They smell so wonderful; there is something heady, but also something comforting and familiar.
“Mon trésor, can you understand me?” He rubs a claw against their soft cheek, trying to draw their attention. Their ears twitch, and their tail moves at the sound of his voice. “Dearest,” he tries again. “I need you to answer me, if you can. I want to make sure you still want me to help you.”
“Alastor, please. It hurts.” They wiggle back, trying to look him in the eyes. Their pupils are visible again, but only just; they are tiny pinpricks in the void of their eyes. “Please help me.”
Alastor closes his eyes at their request, and his smile loosens. Their request made him feel incredibly strange, as if some ball of energy was bouncing about in his body, begging to be freed. The heat their scent caused, still hadn’t abated. He opens his eyes again, and nods.
“Of course, mon cœur. Do you wish to remove any of this clothing? You are getting quite warm.” Alastor tugs at the thin tee they wear, and they nod. Without any help from him, they pull the shirt over their head, and their chest is revealed.
Alastor’s breath hitches. He had been expecting some sort of undergarment, but it is their bare flesh he sees. He was aware that their chest was rather small, compared to the bodies of other female demons, but it didn’t matter to him. His hands almost immediately cup their breasts, rubbing against their already pert nipples.
His little lamb gasps, their breath stopping for a moment. “Oh,” they start, their voice pitched higher than normal. “That feels nice.”
Alastor takes it as his cue to continue exploring everything they’ve laid bare for him. One hand continues to rub at their, so very soft, chest, and his other hand travels downwards. The skin of their belly is also very soft, a slight give beneath it.
“You are so very soft, little one,” he coos to them. He ducks his face into the junction of their neck, nuzzling against them. He squeezes one of their hips, and they shiver. “What would you like to do? I know it must be getting quite uncomfortable.”
His soul-bonded wiggles, making him pull back so they can move easier. Their eyes seem to scan his form for a moment, before settling on his legs.
“Can-” their voice cuts off, their already flushed face darkening further. “Can I ride your thigh?” They start shivering, as if their little body couldn’t handle the anticipation. “It’s probably the easiest, for now. I think, uh, that you can use your hands later, if you would like.”
Alastor lets his smile soften. They are so nervous, and it makes his chest ache. How sweet and wonderful they were. He nods, gesturing for them to find a comfortable position. Although the idea of them riding his leg, whatever that meant specifically, was new to him, he knew it must be helpful. They seemed so eager, and he wanted them to feel good.
Alastor realizes, as they prop themselves on one of his thighs, closer to his knee than his groin, what exactly they mean. He also notices that they are, in fact, only wearing underwear now. It is a thin, soft, red pair, cut high enough to see where their thighs and pelvis meet. His eyes are glued to the soft skin at the point where they meet. Something, deep inside of him, wants him to bite there, and he couldn’t tell where it came from.
His little lamb settle their hands in front of them, grasping at his thigh for dear life. He watches with fascination as they shift their hips forward. Their entire body seems to light up, breath stuttering.
“Oh,” they shakily exhale. “That’s- that’s good.” Their eyes flutter closed, and their claws scratch his thigh lightly. Alastor nearly falls forward with the shock of such a feeling. No one had ever touched him like that, without meaning harm.
He grasps their hips, as if to steady the both of them, and he leans forward just slightly.
“Come on, ma chérie, do what you must.” His voice drops, the static often accompanying it, gone. “Let me see you ‘ride’ me, dearest.”
His voice spurs them into action, and he watches, as if enchanted. The front of their underwear is darkening, and he can feel something damp soaking through his trousers. (He winces, realizing he had slept in his clothes. It was too late to worry about that, he needed to focus). Alastor lets his thumb sweep up their navel, the other hand cupping their face as they rock their body back and forth.
“Oh, little one, you are so good for me,” he murmurs. They moan, the sound sending his body ablaze. His skin tingles where he touches them, and his groin feels hot and tight. Oh, the things his little soul-bond did to him. Oh, how wondrous! “Yes, ma moitié. Give yourself pleasure, for me.”
“Alastor,” they mewl as their back bows backward. Their heaving breaths draw his attention back to their pert breasts. Unable to stop the strange desire, Alastor catches one of their nipples in his mouth, tongue immediately exploring the surface. They cry out, and their hands clutch at his shoulders. “Oh, please!”
Alastor feels their muscles tighten beneath his hands. He feels each shuddering breath they take, and the way they moan makes his ears twitch. He places one of his hands between their shoulder blades, pressing them closer to his mouth, and he put the other on their hip, guiding them in their rocking.
“Please what, dearest,” he asks. He lets their nipple free from his mouth, and replaces his head back against their neck. His tongue laps against their neck, prompting a groan from them. Their skin tasted of salt, and their unique taste, (one he had not experienced since they had made their deal). “Oh, you taste wonderful, my dear.”
“Alastor, please,” they beg, again. Their hips are still grinding down against his thigh, which is growing noticeably damp from the slick coating their underwear and the junction of their thighs. “Please.”
Alastor breathes in deeply, scratching his teeth along their throat. His hands tighten in his hold of them, and he grinds their hips down into his leg, harder. The ache in his chest growing too hard to ignore, and the heat in the pit of his abdomen, his lightly bites down on their shoulder. And then they’re keening, a high and breathy thing, that makes his ears limp. He bites down harder, licking at their skin roughly. Alastor can’t get enough of every little noise they make, and he wants more.
Alastor lets his voice dip to inhuman levels, and makes his made-for-radio accent drop, he growls,
“Ma Moitie.”
His little lamb gasps, and their hips stutter in their pace. They convulse strangely, all their muscles bunching up tight. He feels their muscles beneath their navel twitch sporadically, and their breath stop. Alastor thankfully has a good grip on them, because they go limp in his arms a moment later.
“Oh, mon cœur, look at you.” He pulls them into his arms so he can settle them back onto the bed. Their eyes are dazed, pupils visible again and blown wide. Alastor feels almost as if they are a little doll, so easily moved and adjusted. When they are finally settled back onto the bed, he lies beside them, searching their face.
“How do you feel, my dear?” He rubs their cheek gently, focusing entirely on their reaction. He can hear the light thumb of their tail against the mattress, (and it makes him thankful that his own is too small to make such a noise. Alastor could feel it twitching the entire time they sat upon his leg).
“Alastor,” they breathe. One of their hands pulls at his suit jacket. “That felt so good.” Their eyes flutter close, and he watches their whole body jerk. “Unfortunately, I don’t think once is enough.”
A grimace crosses their features. Alastor smiles wider, and he rubs their frown lines with his thumb. “Worry not, dear. I am up to the task.” He lets his voice fill with a confidence he does not feel, but he wants this. He wants to make them feel good again, and to end this ‘heat’ that had been forced on them. “You mentioned, that I could use my hands earlier.”
You can still feel your body twitching, the muscles of your pussy clenching around nothing, as you come down from your orgasm. It is while you are still processing the fact that you had ridden Alastor’s thigh like a saddle, that you feel that painful heat in your belly return. It makes your chest seize, and your head feel fuzzy. When you inform Alastor, he almost immediately mentions making use of his hands. Your brain nearly melts.
Although the two of you had been together for some time now, this was your first, even remotely, intimate experience. You had had a handful of kisses, but nothing more than that. He hadn’t even said anything remotely risqué to you! Now here he was, offering to touch you with his hands.
His hands… the thought sent delightful shivers down your spine. His hands were very large, and they were so warm right now. You wanted him to use them to explore every inch of you, to touch you until his every desire was met. Unfortunately, you couldn’t voice more than a, “Yes, please.”
You felt a tiny bit pathetic, at first, but the soft smile on his face stopped that. He almost looked like he actually wanted to. Not just for you, but for him too. The thought made your chest ache, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and tell him everything you felt about him. You could not, however; there were more pressing matters.
Alastor sits up, and presses his back against the backboard of the bed. He curls a claw at you, wanting you to move closer to him.
“Come, my dear. Let’s remove these. They will be very useless in a moment,” he says, pulling at the hem of your underwear. Your face flushes with heat. It was the last scrap covering your skin, and it caused anxiety to grow within you. He hadn’t seen you in such a state before. Would he find this part of you attractive? Did he find you attractive at all? Did he actually want you? Your mind spirals with dreaded questions you couldn’t voice.
“Ma bichette. Come back to me,” he coos, his hands rubbing your chest and one of your hips. “Do you still want me to touch you?”
The soft way he asks nearly makes you cry. How sweet and kind he could be, despite everything. Tears nearly spring to your eyes at how safe he makes you feel. You can do nothing but nods in response, lest you sob as you try to answer.
Alastor holds the back of your head as he leans you back. He pulls your underwear down your legs as he maneuvers them to his liking. Once the cloth is removed and dropped over the side of the bed, he cradles you in his arms, letting your legs go across his lap. “Mwen renmen ou.” His voice is deep and comforting. You have no clue as to what he whispers against your hair, but you let his voice soothe you.
Alastor keeps whispering to you, even as he trails a hand down your navel and around your mound. With a control over his form, that you haven’t yet mastered, he blunts his claws, and trails his fingers over your newly exposed skin. His lips caress your forehead as he shifts a finger to press between the lips of your slit. A ragged breath escapes you, and your eyes fall on his face.
There is this look that you can’t describe, on his face. His eyes are softer than they have ever been, their radiant glow further softening his whole expression. His smile is small, but more genuine than you had seen it in weeks. Then, he starts whispering again, just as one of his fingers catches against your clit.
Your whole body lurches at the sensation. The hand holding your head tightens, and you’re forced to remain prone as he continues exploring you.
“J’adore ton sourire, mon cœur,” he purrs, finger pressing harder against your clit. It sends tingles up your body, and a moan escapes you. “Tu es ma joie de vivre.”
Alastor leans down, and finally presses his lips against yours. Your whole body trembles, and for a moment you see stars. His middle finger is pressing against your entrance as his thumb presses your clit firmly. Combined with his soft, warm lips, you feel overwhelmed. He pulls back, eyes hooded, as he presses his finger into you. Your legs clench, and your eyes flutter. Every worry that you had about the experience fades away as he slowly slides his finger in. Despite how slick you are, there is a lot of friction, making his entrance slower.
“Te me rends fou. Tu ma fait me sentir tout chose,” Alastor coos as he finally presses his finger in, all the way to his knuckle. His thumb rubs at the side of your neck as he grunts. “Si serré.”
“Alastor,” you whisper, your brows furrowing as you try to calm yourself. Your whole body is shaking now, chest and throat tight. You feel like a live wire, electricity coursing through you like a river.
“Yes, my little lamb?” Alastor asks, finally rubbing your clit again. Despite his inexperience, his touches are deft, and gentle. It feels unfair that he be so good at things he hasn’t done before.
“Please. I need it,” you beg, softly. Your back arches as he slowly pulls his finger out, and thrusts back in. You need him to just keep touching you. Anything. It feels better than you could have imagined this feeling.
“Of course, little one.” His forehead touches yours, eyes lidded as he gazes at you. “Does this feel right, my dear?”
You nod, trying to kiss him, but the hand on the back of your head keeps you from turning it too far. A breathy chuckle leaves him, and he kisses you.
As your lips connect again, he sets a pace with his fingers. Sparks flare out from beneath your navel, and it just feels so good. Your hands finally give up trying to find purchase with each other, and you grab at the arm reaching across your belly. Your fingers dig in as he curls his finger.
Alastor leans back from you, watching you closely. “Oh, look at you. Ma bichette. So good for me, aren’t you?”
His words turn up the heat in your belly, and you feel like you’re going to implode. Noises keep escaping you, and your eyes close tightly. You grasp at his hand, and then he twists it. The move sends you crashing over the edge, one you weren’t aware of being on.
Your body is white-hot for a brief moment, and then it all fades to static. Not quite like Alastor’s, but more like the fuzzy TV static. It blankets over you as your muscles spasm. Your lungs stutter and heave, muscles failing to find the rhythm you need. You vaguely hear your own voice muttering, and you can feel Alastor’s hand still.
“Ma moitié. You were so good for me,” Alastor mumbles, his hands cupping your face. “So good.”
“L’ve you, Al,” you whisper, feeling exhaustion crash over you. Your body gives in, and your eyes slide shut. You can feel Alastor stiffen, for just a moment, before he starts whispering words you don’t understand again.
“Que ferais-je sans vous, mon cœur?” Alastor’s voice is still that deep tone that he rarely lets you hear, and it soothes you. Within a few moments, you succumb to the need to sleep.
Alastor would stay vigilant, by your side, for the whole night. Even his own eventual need for rest couldn’t prevent him from whispering sweet words to you, and keeping you safe.
#alastor x reader#bun's short fics#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor fanfiction#alastor x you#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fluff#fanfic#alastor x reader smut#smut
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logan x stripper!reader demons are infesting my mind rn… maybe he was corralled into the club by Wade and … idek where this was going but i really need to hashtag fuck that old man!
anon i had sm thoughts abt this last night. none of them are organized. this is gonna be a massive brain dump but stick w me here.
logan was in fact corralled into the club by wade under false pretenses. he was told that "the son of a bitch hangs out here" and logan didn't know exactly who they were looking for, but he'll do anything if it means he doesn't have to see blind al going through withdrawals again. so he tags along, only asking need to know questions. but as soon as they're in there and wade describes the guy logan quickly realizes that their perp is the fucking hamburglar.
"my future wife works here, maybe yours does too." wade drops the act, hands on logan's shoulders for all of a second before logan shakes him off.
"c'mon, don't be shy. go sink your metallic claws into some pretty girl …” wade takes a moment before adding, “or guy!” and then wade stuffs logan's hand full of cash and saunters off somewhere else before logan can even say anything else.
logan knows he could just go home, blind al isn't so bad if she can listen to people speeding through answers on jeopardy!, but then he turns around and sees you—strutting up to the pole on one of the stages, wearing nothing except a skimpy yellow and blue two piece set. he's just drawn to the familiar colors, that's all. that's the reason why he makes his way over and takes a seat, albeit near the back.
this isn't logan's scene at all. he's not the pay-for-company type. he should leave before it's too late, before he's noticed.
he was going to leave, but then logan watches you approach the tip rail, your eyes watching some guy below you. logan stares as you dance for the guy, and just as the guy slips a few bills into the waistband of your tiny shorts, your eyes lift and you see him—logan, sitting in the back of the section, probably poorly lit, but you must like what you see because you linger.
the patron thinks you're lingering for him. logan can practically smell the excitement leaking out of his pores, but above it all he can smell you. a scent so particular and enticing that he wants to smell it as often as he can. he wants to smell it right on him. and he eventually gets what he wants when your set finishes and logan can smell that same scent, stronger than before, making it's way towards him.
god, he really should leave before he's in too deep, but his morality kicks in. he couldn't just sit here and free load, watching you work your ass off without slipping you at least a little something. so he takes a few of the bills wade gave him, pretty much half, and just places it in your hand when you stop in front of him.
you grin over at him and tilt your head, taking in the way he stuffs the rest of the cash into his pocket as he stands.
"leaving already?"
and maybe you're good at your job, or logan is more of a pushover than he thought he was, because he somehow ends up in a vip room with you, watching you dance for him.
he's not afraid to admit you're pretty. he understands why people would pay for this. but he also understands that this is your job. that he's literally paying for you to ask him to help you take your top off. he's paying for human contact, so he's reluctant to relax.
until you coax him into it, your voice as gentle as your hands cupping his face. everything you say sounds so earnest, like you're speaking from the heart and not a script you pull out depending on the customer.
once logan relaxes, he's fucking gone. yeah, that's the most relaxed he has felt in a while, and yeah he wants to see more of you, but he won't go back. mostly because he's broke and he has absolutely no idea where wade got that money from.
luckily wade loves to play matchmaker, setting up two of his friends (logan should've known that this would all come full circle) on a semi-blind date.
logan would've been more upset about it if he didn't get to fuck you (for free!) over and over again that same night.
#more on them later#.... maybe#but i fw this#/chats#logan howlett x reader#logan x stripper!reader#logansworld!
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kinktober 4 - monster fucking
demon!ghost x reader
(18+/mdni, mentions of rough sex/soul sacrifice/dom sub dynamic/size difference)
you hadn't meant to summon him, you hadn't meant to summon anything, really. had you drawn a summoning circle, lit some candles, and chanted some latin? yes, but you hadn't thought it would actually work.
it was just meant to be a meditative practice, a little silliness after the dreams that have plagued you as of late.
something to convince yourself that none of it was real--until he appeared, red skin, black eyes, pointy horns and a look of disgust painted on his face.
thick smoke curls around the room as your otherworldly visitor puffs in out of thin air.
"what d'ya want, human?" the demon's voice is low, his accent thick and his scorn obvious. he lounges against the wall, taller and broader than any human and exactly the kind of infernal sin you dreamed of so often. he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, but for whatever reason, he still answered your midnight call.
you never saw the dream figures face, but this demon's has you captivated--a strong jaw and plush lips. you can't look anywhere but at him, lost in the inky well of his eyes as he peers down at where you kneel on the hardwood floor. you're not sure what to say, hadn't thought you'd get this far at all, and certainly didn't think anything that came would be quite so darkly enchanting.
"don't have all day, love." he snarls as he urges you along, and then he's moving toward you, a harsh grip at your chin as he forces you to rise to your feet and look him dead in the eye.
under his gaze, you feel compelled to tell the truth--out of fear or out of reverence you're not sure, but the words tumble from you anyway.
"i have these dreams..." you start, hesitation washing over you as your eyes slip shut and you recall your nighttime visitor. you feel the demons simmering stare regardless, and you distantly think he knows, but is just making you say it anyway, just wants to hear the confession straight from your mouth, just wants to taunt you into confessing.
maybe it's part of his game, perhaps he's been putting himself in your dreams on purpose, luring you into his trap. the thought makes your stomach churn as you think of how easily you'd fallen for it.
his eyes narrow dangerously. "dreams?" he mocks, his hold on your flesh unwavering, you're practically pulled to your tiptoes--his grip so strong and demanding as he refuses to relinquish you. any more force and he could be holding you off the ground by your neck alone.
shame washes over you in wave after wave, as you become aroused even thinking about the dreams you've been having for so long now. the dreams that have almost become more important than the waking world.
"a demon comes to me in the night and he..." you swallow, uncertain of what word to land on. saying the demon fucks you is too mild to describe the way he acts. he takes you, ravages you, corrupts you. he gives you every kind of sinful pleasure you could dream of and always comes back for more.
"go on." the demon is deadpan, still knowing exactly what you're thinking and yet waiting for the words to spill from your pretty lips, wants to hear you say it.
"... he uses me." you tremble, not from fear, but from arousal, as your eyes meet the demons and you expose the need in your eyes, in your soul. he uses you night after night and you don't have a single protest, beyond the fact it's never seemed possible, until now.
the demon scoffs--a harsh, mocking sound that thrills you against your will. "and you want me to make your sick little dreams come true?"
"yes." you say without hesitation, without a single second passing. you're beyond certain.
"it'll cost ya." one of his hands snakes down your body, feeling your curves before he shreds through your little nightdress with his claws. fangs worry at your neck, as the demon gets a taste for you on his tongue, savours your fear and anticipation. "such a nice fucking body, tasty soul too."
despite knowing what he deals in, that takes you by surprise. "my soul for a fuck?" you ask, a little in disbelief.
the demon picks you up with ease and throws you onto the bed, watching hungrily as you bounce and settle into the mattress. he rids himself of his own clothes with the click of a finger, and stalks over to you like a predator, crawling over your vulnerable body.
his thick, ridged cock hangs heavy between his thighs, drawing the attention of your widened eyes. again, he's bigger than any human, and hard just at the thought of devouring you.
"give yourself to me, all of you. for my fuck, until you can't take anymore. days, weeks, months." he flashes a smirk--sharp, pointed teeth on show. "years... forever. what d'ya say, love?"
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#call of duty fanfiction#call of duty x reader#call of duty fanfic#kinktober
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Making Humanoids Less Human
I did make a small post on this, but now I've got the art for a much bigger and more detailed post! so here we go.
I had several anonymous asks that all came in quick succession weeks ago. Every single one of them was basically just a variation on "how would you take (typically humanoid) fantasy being, and make them look less human?"
This blog does not exist for me to just give people original designs for free, my goal is to show off my own personal thoughts about fantasy design and help people figure out how to adjust their own designs to fit their vision better. That means when people ask me questions about how to do something, I want to give them things to think about so they can come to their own conclusion. I don't mind making original designs to illustrate concepts, but a whole flood of "show me how to make this specific thing look different" all at once like that was too much. I'm not answering them all individually, it's just not what I want to do.
But what I can do is show my own thoughts and ideas about how to take any fantasy design and push it further away from "human", and you all can look at my ideas and figure out your own way to do things!
So here are the main 4 methods I've come up with to make humanoids look less human.
(image description: a simplified drawing of a humanoid face surrounded by four altered versions of the same face. clockwise starting from the top left, they are:
Speculative, drawn as a cat person. Additive, drawn with horns, pointy ears, sharp teeth, and a second pair of eyes. Subtractive, drawn with blank eyes, no nose, and no eyebrows. Exaggerative, drawn with a long face and huge eyes, as well as a wide mouth, narrow nose, and big ears.
end description)
I am personally a fan of the speculative route, which means exploring an alternate root of evolution to create a new design. Through this method, I've created monkey elves, frog goblins, and pig orcs.
the additive option is the most common, I think. adding new feature or doubled features to a humanoid form is a very intuitive way to change the design and make it look less human. you see this in most fantasy and scifi designs, like star trek aliens and the dnd player races.
subtractive and evaggerative are the most common options for people that like the uncanny valley. it's really easy to make uncomfortable designs by removing or exaggerating recognizable features, and they're often used together. Slenderman, for example, removes all facial features and skin color but also exaggerates the limbs and body.
Combining the four methods will give you a really interesting design as well! So for practice I decided to explore an alternate design for Tieflings, the part-demon player race in dnd.
(image description: four examples of differnt tiefling designs using the previously described methods. the additive example is just offical dnd art of a tiefling woman with purple skin, horns, and a long tail.
the subtractive sketch looks very alien, with a bald head, empty eyes, and no other facial featuers aside from a small mouth. it has three fingers per hand and two toe per foot.
the exaggerative sketch shows a hunched humanoid figure with huge eyes and big ears. the neck, limbs, and digits are all long with claws at the ends of the fingers and toes, and the limbs are also quite muscular.
the speculative sketch shows a bipedal figure with features similar to a giraffe, including a long neck, ossicones, and hooves.
end description)
now, because tielflings have such a distinct look to them, obviously my new sketches don't really look like tieflings, do they? the only one that comes close is the giraffe. relying only on one type of alteration to the human form has left the designs rather empty and lacking in the more iconic traits of the original concept. so i tried a sketch that combined my ideas! it came out looking like a completely different creature lol, like it could be a kobold or something, still not really a tiefling.
(image description: a sketch of a creature with a giraffe-like head, long tongue, and sharp teeth. it appears to be roaring at something and stands in a half-crouch. it has long limbs with hoof feet and clawed hands, as well as a long tufted tail curled behind it. end description.)
didn't work out. too far into the animal side of the speculative evolution, I think. so I tried again and got a design I liked much better!
(image description: a digital painting of a tiefling leaping back and casting a glowing orange spell. she is wearing a tunic with a corset and detached sleeves, as well as several pieces of jewelry. Her skin is purple with dark patches like a giraffe's spots, and she has a giraffe's ossicones as well as hoof-like hands and two-toed hoof feet. Her tail is long with a tuft at the end. She has glowing eyes and a flat nose, and there is a single sharp tooth visible poking out of the side of her mouth. end description.)
Brought the face back into slightly more human proportions and that helped a lot. Sometimes designs just take a few tries! that's normal.
and hopefully this is helpful to all of you! there are so many ways to alter humanoid designs to come up with something original and unique to you!
#humanoids#making humanoids less human#altered humanoids#non primate humanoids#tiefling#long post#my designs#and btw ai cannot do this#does not matter how detailed you prompt it#it can't really get things to look this original and unique#it can't really blend different features like this in a way that makes sense#you have this power#the computers cannot replicate it
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Slumbering Pride
Alenoah Week Day 7: Free Day! (Demon AU)
Alejandro is finally, finally close to beating José at something. He's in his junior year, and universities are already scouting him out thanks to his name, his academic prowess, and his athletic prowess.
They did the same for José when he was about to graduate. The difference is he had five schools attempt to recruit him.
Alejandro has six.
José can't let this stand. If Alejandro officially gets six offers, then he'll know José isn't perfect. He'll start trying harder to beat José in things. And worse, he might actually win if he's proven himself capable of it.
José needs to do something about it, so he comes to the most obvious solution.
He summons a demon.
(Rest under read more because it's long)
Demons are an open secret. They were confirmed to be real a while back, though are mostly bound by the deals they must make in order to maintain a foothold on the human realm. An unbound demon is a dangerous thing, and often happens if the person making the deal is tricked into breaking their side of it.
Demons are known to do everything possible to do this, or at least cause havoc in whatever capacity their bounds enable them to. It's forbidden and illegal for anyone to summon one without proper qualifications. (There's still some summonings that do happen after all, demons are quite useful so long as you're careful).
Still, humans are naturally curious creatures, and have found multiple ways of spreading this knowledge as best as they can. Demon summoning is uncommon, but it still happens. So much that children are taught what to do if they believe they're encountering a demon.
Most sane people know better than to risk entering any contract with a demon. But there are always those desperate enough, or stupid enough, to try.
Getting his hands on a book on demon summoning is child's play for someone with José's family connections. He doesn't care what kind of demon he summons, so long as he summons one that will do the job he wants. He can sweet talk them into giving him the best deal possible just as he sweet talks anyone else.
As he finishes the summoning, his limbs grow heavier. It is constant agony to keep himself standing. His thoughts grow fuzzy as he struggles to remember what he was so focused on. He isn't quite sure why he bothers.
It would be much easier to sit down and rest. What was he so worried about, again? It couldn't have been so important if he's forgotten. His eyes droop to a close as he lets out a sigh of relief he had been holding back for so, so long.
"Wow, you're seriously pathetic if you're this affected by my summoning."
José snapped out of his stupor to see a teenager staring back at him. He was a couple of inches shorter than José and could only be described as a breathing fashion disaster.
José could have stopped there, but he couldn't ignore the horns atop the demon's head, the wings pressed against his back, the tail lightly tapping the ground. His arms were folded as he tapped his clawed foot impatiently.
José was expecting something much more imposing than...this. He'd laugh if had less control of himself.
"I would like to make a deal with you-"
"Could have fooled me with your craiglist ad." Noah said, glancing at the circle underneath him. "It's so generic it screams 'I'm not going to put you in a van and drive you to an undisclosed location, I promise.'"
José could feel a headache coming on. "I am going to make a deal with you, demonio." He needed to regain control of this conversation, fast.
"Never said I wouldn't make one. What do you want?"
"I would like for you to stop my brother from getting too far ahead in life. At the very least, I want to make sure that he can never surpass me. In any way. Can you do that?"
"Depends on what I get in return."
The two end up negotiating until they settle on a deal: Noah makes sure that Alejandro can never surpass José, and in return Noah gets to take his ability to dream. José can do without a few dreamless nights.
That's how Alejandro finds himself waking up in the morning with a demon that was only as tall as halfway up his knee staring at him from the foot of his bed.
Alejandro instinctively kicks the smaller boy out of panic, sending a very unhappy demon crashing into a wall. When they've both recovered, Noah explains exactly what's going on.
He's here to pretty much haunt and sabotage Alejandro, José's the one who sent him because he's a dick, and this is just going to be their life now.
After Alejandro processes the fact that his brother truly hates him this much as to risk both of their lives to a demon, he asks why Noah would bother to tell him all of this. He doesn't say it out loud, but he knows that a demon could absolutely make his life a living hell. He's expecting insidious manipulations and life threatening accidents.
And this demon is making any sabotage more difficult by confessing that he's going to sabotage Alejandro? Something isn't adding up.
That's when Noah points out the big flaw in Jose's brilliant plan.
Because he hadn't been concerned about what kind of demon he summoned, he pretty much set up a job posting for a demon from any of the seven sins to snatch. Noah just happened to get there first.
So what does José get for not being specific?
A sloth demon.
Noah plans to do the bare minimum of what's required for his job. He doesn't care to bother with the effort of lying to Alejandro about his purpose here. The only reason he bothered to take this job in the first place is because the human realm has two things that the demon realm doesn't: Decent places to nap, and good books.
The only thing he hadn't counted on is how small he'd end up being once bonded with Alejandro. His size is dependent on the amount of sloth Alejandro has. The teen who gives it his all in every activity he does.
Noah's got his work cut out for him.
Alejandro tries seeing if he can use his own silver tongue to have Noah quit the job before he gets started, but with no luck. Noah doesn't feel like leaving. And he's not about to break the deal on his side because then he be forced back into the demon realm and unable to return unless directly summoned.
Alejandro would very much like to try just trapping the demon somewhere, then go to his brother to confront him about doing this. But he knows better than to act before fully knowing what Noah is capable of. And he wouldn't be surprised if his brother tried to gaslight him into thinking Noah wasn't real. He still doesn't quite believe it himself.
He does start to believe that having Noah around will be a continuous little nightmare. He's constantly offering snide remarks. He keeps trying to convince Alejandro to stop trying so hard and just be lazy.
Alejandro's not as aggravated as the attempt than he is at the fact that there's zero tact to it. Noah isn't even TRYING to be subtle. He could think of a thousand ways to do Noah's job better, except telling him that would then make Alejandro's life worse.
It gets to the point where he's so upset he just throws a pillow at Noah. The demon squawks as he gets hit, and Alejandro gets immense satisfaction from this. Alejandro knows this is a terrible idea, but he's angry at this whole situation and needs to take it out on somebody. Might as well do it on the one successfully set him off.
Alejandro gets his karma for snapping at Noah when he goes to sleep.
His dream starts off as he would expect it to. Until suddenly he finds something knocked against his back. He finds himself pinned to his stomach, and when he struggles to get out from under it, he finds the tip of a very familiar tail at a much larger scale pressing down on him.
"I thought 'Burromuertos conquer whatever they set their minds to'. We're in your mind. So get up."
Alejandro can feel Noah's smirk though he can't see it. He refuses to give Noah the satisfaction of admitting defeat and continues to fight against the tail.
Tears are not pricking his eyes as he's made to feel insignificant in the last safe place that was truly his.
As he can't feel tired in his dream, he continues to struggle. Noah admits that Alejandro's probably the most stubborn human he's ever met.
Alejandro snaps that he's a Burromuerto, and he does not quit. He cannot, and will not quit. Ever. No matter the competition, no matter the cost. Noah's just another obstacle in his way. But he will beat his brother in something for once in his life.
He does his best to hide the desperation in his need to believe that this is true. He's hidden it well in the past, but Noah is a perceptive sort and hears it anyways.
Noah asks what could type of win could possibly be so important that it was worth the risk of his brother summoning a demon on him.
"I'm about to beat him in the amount of colleges offering me admissions by one." Alejandro gloated, pride swelling in his chest.
The tail pressing down on him suddenly reached underneath him, and flipped him over like he was a roach. He looked up to see Noah's face free of apathy for the first time. Instead, it was replaced with one of...pity.
"You can't seriously be proud of that."
Alejandro grit his teeth. "I am."
"You have to know how that sounds, right?"
"Please do enlighten me about what you think that sounds like."
"It sounds pathetic! You're going above and beyond and you're seriously caught up in something as stupid as one-upping your brother?"
"Don't you dare try to act as if you know any better tú hijo de su puta madre," Alejandro snarled, the tears returning to his eyes. "I don't care what you are. You know nothing about me and my family. You can say and do whatever you like but I will not cow to any of your attempts to degrade me." His snarl turned into something of a deranged chuckle. "Do your worst. This is nothing new. I will still come out on top and grind you into dust."
Noah was silent for a long time. As he started to move his mouth to speak, Alejandro found himself snapping awake. He looked around to see Noah still in his room. He's looking at him with incredibly impassive indifference. Alejandro won't see anything else in his gaze. At least the demon was smart enough not to try running his mouth again.
Alejandro stormed off so he could grab a book to study while he ate breakfast.
Noah mostly stays out of Alejandro's way, but Alejandro can feel him watching. He doesn't care where Noah scampers off to during the day. He refuses to acknowledge the little monster.
He throws himself deep into studying. He's spending more time awake so he can study and avoid having to fall asleep. Beauty sleep be damned, he does not want to deal with Noah again.
When he does sleep, he dreams. He can always feel a looming presence behind him, and he says nothing of it.
He does his best to hide his exhaustion from the rest of his family. José notices and pounces on it. Alejandro continues to deny it, because he will not give his brother the satisfaction of having won yet another battle.
All the stress and exhaustion comes to a head after a few nights. Alejandro hopes for a dreamless night, and is instead greeted by a nightmare.
He's attending one of his parent's many galas, and his outfit is atrocious. He's sweating profusely. His hair is plastered to his face. Try as he might, it refuses to go back into place. He's a truly unforgiveable sight. He tries to sneak off so he can find something else to change into. Despite his appearance, no one is paying any attention to him. He finds out why as he goes through a guest.
He's running as fast as he can now. He's going through so many people, everything is blurring together. It all comes to a halt as he crashes into a wall he can't see. As he falls backwards, he sees that he's now in a terrarium.
Outside, his much larger brother and parents are talking to each other. Alejandro can't make out what they're saying, but he can see them laughing. He gets up and bangs on one of the walls. His brother flicks his gaze towards his little brother.
Finally, a break. He know Jose hates him, but he'd never truly hurt Alejandro. Alejandro knows this. He has to believe this. Jose could hurt him physically, mentally, and emotionally, but even he wouldn't leave Alejandro to die.
He'd just deliver a potential vehicle of death to Alejandro's doorstep, is all.
Their parents are gone, and it's just him and Jose now.
"Relájate, hermanito," Jose cooes as if he's talking to an infant, "Nadie espera que seas más de lo que eres. ¡Deberías estar agradecido de haber estado cerca de una fracción de mis logros! Sabes exactamente lo que te mereces por eso, ¿no?"
Jose lifts the lid of the terrarium up. He reaches a massive hand down towards Alejandro. Alejandro wants to climb up and away, but the walls are too smooth. They're closing in. All that there is is the hand, ready to grab him, crush him, throttle him, any variety of things.
He can do nothing to stop it. He was a fool for ever thinking he could. He closes his eyes shut in an instinctive fear he can't hold back anymore. He's hoping he can bring himself to fight. He's silently begging for his brother to be merciful enough to make it quick.
The hand that grabs him is much more gentle than he expects. He struggles to be free, but the grip is tight enough to stop much movement. There is no squeeze. It is weight without malice, and cool to the touch.
He feels something the size of a tree trunk gently brush his hair away from his face. He lets out a gasp of air he had been craving for far too long. He tries to open his eyes. He feels the tears sweat from earlier is sticking his eyelids shut. He shudders. His arms are pinned, so he can't move to fix wipe his eyes.
Suddenly, he's being moved higher and higher. He hears steady flapping from above. The pace is slow enough to where the wind is just a gentle breeze soothing his clammy skin.
He feels his captor descending, and he's unceremoniously dropped to the ground. He wipes his eyes and stands up. He's dressed to the nines. He sees other figures roaming about. He can see how they sneak a glance his way, then happily chitter amongst themselves.
"Mijo, no te quedes ahí parado," his mother says as she suddenly slips through the crowd. This is how he remembers this is a dream. His mother would never refer to him so colloquially, "Entra, tu juramento está por comenzar."
"Un momento, madre. Hay algo que debo hacer primero."
She clucks her tongue, another informal mark of unreality, and leaves him be.
Alejandro turned around, but all he could see were faceless guests.
"You can come out. I know you're here." Alejandro felt the ground behind him quake slightly, and turned to look up at Noah.
"Sure you want to waste your time with me? The dream isn't going to last forever."
"What did you do?"
"Took you out of your own nightmare. Brought you into one of José's dreams. And before you throw a fit, this is one he already let me have. He's nowhere here."
"Alright, that brings me to my next question. Why?"
"Is it really so hard to believe I did something out of the goodness of my miserable excuse of a heart?"
"Sí."
"You're ridiculous," Noah groaned, rolling his eyes. "Fine, I did it because it's easier to get you sleeping if you actually want to sleep. Happy with that answer? Or do you want me to pull out my five step plan for sabotaging you?"
"Well, a little presentation would go a long way~" Alejandro teased. He was finally comfortable enough to find his own voice again.
"And congratulations, you've made me regret doing anything. I'm going back to insulting you the second you wake up."
"You can try, and it still won't work."
"It will. Now go on, you've got the rest of this dream and that's it."
Alejandro left Noah to go explore the rest of the ceremony of achieving the same position of his father as a Spanish ambassador.
He wakes up to find a small Noah clinging onto his chest. The demon had somehow managed to wriggle his way under one of Alejandro's arms and was using it as a blanket. He's still fast asleep. Alejandro tests how asleep by moving his arm slightly. Noah clings tighter to the arm, but otherwise doesn't stir.
Alejandro could just stand up. That would definitely force the smaller boy awake. ...But, as loathe as he is to admit, Noah did help him. So, possibly for the first time in his life, he decides to sleep in rather than wake up for his daily morning routine.
Noah grows a few inches, matching the height of Alejandro's knee, during their nap.
The two are still antagonistic towards each other, but it's nowhere near as bad as when they first met. Alejandro lords over Noah in the waking world, and Noah returns the favor in the dreaming. There is one added wrinkle, though.
Thanks to Alejandro's moment of weakness, Noah has gained the ability force Alejandro into taking a nap. It can only happen when he's already feeling tired, whether physically or mentally thanks to studying, or if he's doing a mindless task.
It's some of the best sleep Alejandro has ever had.
It aggravates him to no end.
When Noah isn't trying to convince Alejandro to give up on his dreams, he's either sleeping, or is reading one of the many books in the Burromuerto library if that's where Alejandro has decided to study.
Alejandro notices Noah struggling when he tries to get books to read due to his size. He offers to grab a book for Noah to bribe him into leaving Alejandro alone for this study session. Noah immediately starts taking advantage of this by questioning Alejandro about what kinds of books he has. Noah might as well get a book based on its contents rather than its weight.
The two start getting into book recommendations. Alejandro sweetens the deal by gifting Noah one of the books he no longer reads to get peace for as long as it takes for Noah to read the book. Noah accepts immediately and will cling to the book with his entire body when Alejandro tries to help him lift the book.
No. This is Noah's book now. No one else is allowed to touch it.
He's so possessive because human things are hard to come by in the demon realm. Only greed demons are able to carry human things back to the demon realm, so they've of course got a monopoly of jacked up prices. The only exception is if a demon properly owns a human thing. Or in this case, is gifted one.
So yeah, Noah will agree to let Alejandro touch it to carry it, but he's watching that thing like a hawk.
A few weeks pass like this. Eventually, José butts his way into Alejandro's life as he usually does. He gloats that their parents are planning to host a party for José to start making connections now as he's properly starting on his journey to becoming an ambassador.
The second he's gone, Noah and Alejandro start bonding by shit talking José.
Alejandro justifies trying so hard so that he can finally one up José. It's why he won't give in to sloth. Nothing good ever comes of doing nothing. Besides, it's one of the weakest of the sins, so it will be easy enough to overcome.
Noah argues that sloth isn't as terrible as Alejandro makes it out to be. It means actually getting rest when everything is overwhelming rather than chugging on through to crash and burn later. Taking a step back and doing nothing can lead to new ideas popping up because there is no longer stress preventing them. Hell, some innovation comes from humans being lazy and wanting a better way to do things.
Like any of the other sins, it's only bad when done in excess. And it can be worse than just being lazy. Having too much sloth means having too much apathy. Horrible people get away with atrocities when enough people are too lazy to do anything about it. It means nothing changes because nobody wants to change.
Noah reveals that underestimating sloth is exactly how José has absolutely screwed himself. José has given up his ability to dream. He thinks the only definition of that are his literal dreams at night, and that's what Noah has been feeding on so far.
They also mean his dreams about being an ambassador. His dreams of more. Dreams are heavily linked with desire and ambition. By the time Noah's done with him, José will be nothing more than a walking husk. He'll do the bare minimum needed to survive, but nothing more. Knowing he should long for something else but being unable to.
The only reason he hasn't done so immediately is if he does take it fully, it means his deal would be over, and no more being in the human realm.
This does remind Alejandro that he is having a casual conversation with a demon. Despite their current pleasantries, it would be a terrible thing to watch Noah get more creative in his interpretations of his deal with José. It's safer to keep him entertained than to let his mind wander.
It doesn't hurt that entertaining Noah has led to riveting conversation.
Still, he comes up with an idea to control Noah, and get himself some much deserved revenge. He asks if he could actually make a deal with Noah to get back at José.
Unfortunately Noah can't. Not because he doesn't want to. He's got no issues with taking José down a peg. He's just unable to make a deal with more than one human at a time. There are conflict of interest rules in place. Even if there weren't, he's still a teenager. He's not powerful enough to make multiple deals at a time yet.
But he knows a demon who'd be willing to help out.
Her name's Eva. She's a wrath demon. She's pretty straightforward. Tell her exactly what you want, and she won't try to screw with you so long as you don't do the same to her.
Alejandro is concerned about what her price would be, but he isn't going to say that directly. Instead, he comes up with a different plan to solve this in a way better than his brother had.
He asks about what kinds of things that Eva likes. Noah did mention that human objects were more difficult to come by in the demon world, yes? Alejandro could give something concrete rather than abstract. Everyone wins.
Noah doesn't say anything, but Alejandro can tell that Noah is impressed that he remembered something Noah had said. He must not have much chance to show off his knowledge in the demon realm.
Noah tells him that she likes music. All she's been able to scavenge is a very old, shitty MP3. Phones are more easy to come by, but with no service they're practically worthless. Besides, Eva's chill when she's not fully committing her job.
His only condition is Alejandro's going to have to agree to forget how to summon Eva after they've done the ritual. Eva doesn't like just anybody summoning her, and Noah respects that enough to not share it with others without her permission.
Alejandro agrees.
When the final word is spoken, he waits. And waits. and waits. It feels like he's been waiting for at least an hour. He's going to tap a hole in the floor with anticipation at this rate.
It can't be taking this long. The longer he waits, the longer José gets to prance around consequence-free. He deserves no peace for what he's put Alejandro through. His lips curl in disgust at the thought of his brother getting rewarded for all of his misdeeds. He wants to call his brother over, right here, right now. Just so he can throttle José himself-
"What do you want?" asked the demon who now stood in front of him. Her arms were crossed, and she looked annoyed to even be looking at him. Alejandro had to shake his head to head to let go of the pent-up rage he had suddenly developed.
"Hey iron woman." Noah commented from his current perch on a nearby bookshelf. Eva turned her attention away from Alejandro to see the smaller demon.
"Noah." Eva commented as she acknowledged him with a nod. Noah's face was still set with apathy, and Eva's with annoyance.
Yet Noah was wrapping his tail around his leg to prevent it from wagging as furiously as Eva's was.
"So, what do you want?" Eva repeated. The edge to her tone was dulled this time.
"I would like to make a deal with you. My brother is going to be at the center of a gala recently. I know he doesn't think as highly of others as he will pretend, so I would just like your help in making him more...honest about his true feelings." Noah sighed at this answer.
"You want a truth spell?" Eva asked. She turned to pay attention to Noah before Alejandro could form a response. "Why would you summon me for this?"
"He wants you to make his brother throw the rage fit to end all rage fits in front of an international audience."
"Then why didn't he just say that?"
"Because he doesn't know how to follow instructions."
"Then why'd you bring me a stupid one?" Eva asked Noah.
Alejandro had to bite his lip to stop himself from interrupting. He was being both ignored and insulted. He couldn't let this be his impression on anybody.
However, Noah knew this demon, while he did not. She clearly valued Noah's opinion over his own, so countering his opinion now would only serve to shut her off further from responding to the Spaniard.
"He has his moments," Noah replied, "Plus, you're going to like what he has to offer."
"Well?" Eva asked, turning her attention back to Alejandro.
"As Noah so tactfully implied, I do plan to offer a fair price," Alejandro said, glad to have control of the conversation again. He pulled out a small device he'd performed quite a bit of research to get his hands on. "I've heard that you are in need of more music. I have managed to find a top of the line mp3 player-"
"How many songs?" Eva interrupted. She was looking directly at Alejandro now.
"If I had to guess? A little over 20,000."
Eva's tail immediately dropped. He could see her mind move from processing that number, to grappling it, to understanding it. Her eyes shone with anticipation that she didn't bother to hide. Her tail was practically causing a minor tornado. Her hands were half clenched and shaking as if she was five seconds away from snatching the prized jewel Alejandro held in his hands.
"Ice Nine Kills."
"Hm?"
"Ice Nine Kills. Silver Scream 2: Welcome to Horrorwood. We're moving up from there. Now gimme."
"Well, hold on. We still need to work out some of the finer details-"
"Fine, sure, we have the deal, whatever you want now give it to me."
Alejandro had to hide the smirk that was threatening to form on his face. He had no idea his offer would work this perfectly. All he had to do was seal-
"Eva!" Noah snapped. "You just offered a human 'whatever they want' in a deal."
"...Oh." Eva realized.
"Yeah, 'oh'." Noah glanced at Alejandro. "And don't think I didn't see that look in your eyes. I'm proctoring your deal."
"But-" both Eva and Alejandro tried to argue.
"It's happening."
With that, the two negotiated for a fair deal. Eva could stay in the human realm specifically to download as many songs as she wanted for her mp3 player, and to help Alejandro in his revenge. After that, she'd go back, and the mp3 player would be hers forever.
They both agree to it, and the deal is set. Noah and Eva spend some time catching up while Eva searches for music. Noah insists on catching up in private, which he obliges. After two failed attempts to eavesdrop.
The three of them plan exactly how to best humiliate José. Alejandro hadn't known quite what to expect with Eva, but he was pleasantly surprised. Her ideas were simple, direct, and brutal. They contrasted with Alejandro and Noah's more elaborate plans until they came to a consensus.
The party happens, and everything is set in place. Eva is invisible to everyone else, and is preparing elsewhere. Alejandro just needs to stay away from his brother so he doesn't realize something is amiss with Noah.
Alejandro knows that this is the perfect time to put himself out there. Especially since José's reputation is about to be shattered. He'll be remembered as the good Burromuerto this time around. Talking comes as second nature to him. All he has to do is talk, and just ignore Noah.
Noah, who's not having a good time at this party. Despite being invisible, his eyes are darting around everywhere as if they could see him. Thanks to being invisible, he's constantly having to avoid feet stepping on him. He's sticking as closely as he can to Alejandro, though he's not commenting on it at all.
Alejandro excuses himself to go to a more quiet part of the mansion forbidden to guests. Noah's visibly more relaxed as they get farther away from the crowd. But he does ask what Alejandro's doing.
Alejandro attempts to lie about being the one who needed space, but Noah shuts him down since he could see Alejandro lighting up when he talked to others. Alejandro will confess to noticing Noah and leaving since he knew Noah would follow. Their new partnership won't do well if one of them is in a near state of panic.
...Consider it returning the favor for the nightmare, if that helps.
Noah's quiet as he recognizes that this human is showing the closest thing to compassion that he can muster. He wants to say something, but the time of José's humiliation is nearing, and he wants to be there to see it. Alejandro makes his way back inside. He keeps Noah calm in the crowd by having him perch on his shoulder, and quietly making fun of the guests as they pass.
Eventually, José's breakdown begins. It works gloriously. He's swearing at other ambassadors. He's throwing things. At one point he's about to let loose of of the skeletons in the Burromuerto's family closet, but he's dragged away before he can. Alejandro has to hide his laughter, though Noah has no need to.
Unfortunately, it means that Noah has broken the deal on his end because he's intentionally let Alejandro beat Jose in something: not causing an international scandal. He gets pulled back to the demon realm and as punishment, can't answer any summons for at least a year unless it's for him specifically.
Alejandro's heartbroken to have Noah ripped away from him. He'd grown rather fond of having the demon around. He can't ask Eva for more help because she disappeared once José's scandal ended. He tries to find the book José used to summon Noah, but it was shredded. José was smart enough to guess that a demon had something to do with his irrational behavior.
Alejandro spends the next few weeks obsessing over finding the right summoning circle. His grades are slipping the tiniest amount, and he can't bring himself to care. He forces himself to sleep. He hopes that will somehow increase his chances of finding Noah. They feel empty without Noah to watch. He has no idea how to find one for Noah specifically, though he certainly does try. He settles for the next best thing: trying a generic summoning circle with the first gift Alejandro gave him as a conduit. Maybe he could at least find a demon who'd be willing to make a deal to help him get in touch with Noah.
This is incredibly dangerous and stupid, but the risk is worth it.
His stomach growls as he finishes the circle. He's been so focused on his work. He doesn't remember the last time he's eaten. He could leave to grab a quick bite-
No, no. He knows what this is. These thoughts aren't his. They can't be Noah's either. Noah's never cared much for-
stuffing his face until he can take no more. His body is a temple, and it deserves to be lavished. He's salivating, and must force himself not to run for the kitchen.
He's rewarded for his discipline with a large, blond demon who calls himself Owen.
He explains the situation to Owen, but no sooner does he utter Noah's name that Owen lights up.
"Ooooh, YOU'RE AL!!!"
Owen immediately starts going on about how Noah's his best friend. Which confuses Alejandro. He'd assumed Eva was Noah's best friend. She was stoic, blunt, and had common sense. She made sense.
This oaf with no volume control did not.
Owen keeps going on regardless of Alejandro's thought process. He completely outs Noah as being a mess thinking he'd never see Alejandro again. Noah was sleeping even harder than was normal for him, he was talking about Alejandro a lot you name it!
So of course Owen will be happy to get the two connected again!
Owen does want to give Alejandro Noah's summoning circle/number, but Alejandro did summon him so it does have to be some kind of deal. Uh...What's the nearest snack he's got? Owen'll take that.
He shares the information, then immediately leaves to go tell his little buddy that Alejandro plans to summon him.
Alejandro changes the circle to summon Noah with fervor.
When Alejandro summons Noah he feels as if every worry he's ever had has melted away. He wants to lay his head on Noah's lap and look up at him. He wants to reach up and tease his fingers through Noah's hair. He wants to trick Noah into leaning down so they can share a kiss and shift to nuzzling together. No more fighting to be on top. Just this once.
They're both blushing when Noah does get summoned because uh they both felt THAT. Neither of them meant that to be the way to confess but uh, whoops.
The two make a deal: "I'll help you get revenge on Jose until you're satisfied (knowing that with Alejandro, he never will be), and you'll let me stay in the human realm for as long as I want."
"Change that to for as long as I live."
"Still don't trust me?"
"I have to put some limits on you mi gatito travioso. Besides, now I know you have an investment in keeping me alive."
"You're terrible."
"Says the demon."
There are many ways to seal a deal with a demon.
They seal this one with a kiss.
#it's DONE#6k words good god#and a few days late too#but shhhhh#the point is it's finally done!#Maybe a bit rushed at the end but I needed this completed at this point#I'm still pretty happy with it#Noah deserves to be the demon as a treat#total drama#total drama au#total drama noah#total drama alejandro#td alejandro#td noah#alenoah#total drama alenoah#alenoah week#alenoah week 2024#alenoahweek2024#Slumbering Pride#Giant/tiny#total drama giant/tiny#sfw giant/tiny#perp fanfic
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Lucifer x Eldest Daughter Part Three
Thank you all for your patience! I think this fic will be a perspective shift style- sometimes updates will be from third person Lucifer, others may be first person reader. It took me a hot minute to get it quite right, but I think I managed. Let me know what y'all think!
Tales told to me by my father painted hell as a vast, spacious, dirty place filled to the brim with death and demons. A stark juxtaposition to our clean streets of heaven. Bedtime stories were filled with the terrors of cannibal town, of sharp claws and bloody teeth. More often than not, I crawled into my parents bed weeping from the nightmares given to me by my father’s tales.
The scene that greeted me wasn’t my expectation.
I studied the room we appeared in. A conference room, much like the one’s the angelic council held sessions in. But instead of the gold accents and the stark white walls, this room was done up in reds and blacks.
“Sit, child,” he told me.
I hastily complied as he seemed to glide out of the room. Several moments later, he returned with another being, the sight of whom sent fear pulsing through my heart. I was on my feet in a matter of seconds, preparing to defend myself.
Fight, or flight. And the latter was no longer an option.
He stared at me.
“Duckling? What in the world are you doing here?”
I stared back at him in a mix of fear and anger. Duckling? Did he mean to compare me to the weak, feathery aquatic animal? Big talk from such a short man.
He seemed to realize his words did nothing to move the conversation forward or take me off the defense. He held up both his hands in surrender.
“Hey, hey. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m…”
“I know who you are!” I snarled. “Lucifer Morningstar, king of hell and ruler of all things evil.” I jumped to my feet, reached for a sword that was no longer there and curled my fists. “You are the reason angels have to commit such atrocities! You are the reason this universe cannot live peacefully!”
His only reaction to my words was to look slightly annoyed.
“Ah yes. And you’re Reader. Raised by High Commander Adam, is that correct?”
I winced at the sound of my fathers name and gritted my teeth. “Yes.”
“Then why are you all the way down here? A little early for extermination day, aren't you?” He asked in what could only be described as a taunting voice.
I puffed myself up, “I have never laid hands on a demon! My father wouldn’t all-”
“I think we all know firsthand what your father is capable of,” he interrupted. “But nonetheless, your presence down here is a problem. You’re in danger, duckling. Whether you know it or not.”
“Do not call me that! I am not weak, or helpless!” I shot back. I felt my sense of self control snap and I lunged forward. I would crack that pompous, old fashioned windbag in the face for such insults!
He caught me easily and with the slightest of movements, I slammed back first into the wall across the room. Smugly, he dusted himself off as I struggled to pull myself back to my feet.
“On the contrary, Duckling,” Lucifer smirked as he walked over to me. “Your presence in and of itself is a problem, and your lack of knowledge or abilities in hell will get you killed in seconds. You’re lucky Zestial here found you first,” he nodded towards the tall being in the corner who still stood, observing the interaction with, of all things, a cup of tea in his hand. “Otherwise, who knows what could have happened. And you’ll be such an important bargaining chip.”
He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me to my feet. I saw the Hellfire in his eyes and met them with determination. If this was my fate, so be it.
“I have a place for you, until such a time you’ll be of use to me. Allow you to get your feet wet here in hell,” he continued. “And don’t even think of trying your luck on the streets. You want heaven to come back for you? You do what I say.”
With a final nod to the being in the corner, Lucifer waved his hand as a portal appeared, filling the room with a red iridescent glow. With his hand firmly on my upper arm, he yanked me through.
#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin lucifer#lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#hazbin#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbinhotel#lucifer morningstar#zestial#hazbin hotel fandom
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I have an AU and I enjoy sharing so. Gift, from a (semi-?) writer to writer I suppose
but Swapped Obey me Au
where the brothers and side characters are humans- here’s the dynamic simplification;
Humans (Solomon / MC) : Cryptids
Demons (The Brothers / Diavolo / Barbatos) - humans/humanoids
Angels (Luke / Simeon) - Monster hunters
Maybe a modernish Victorian era, with castles and monster stories and that fun stuff + technology. Prince Diavolo starts a school to hopefully make peace between the three tribes of being.
So Solomon the Land siren (maybe a Lamia/Naga?) and MC the Mutt sheep cryptid. Where invited to the human school,
I can go on for hours- but hope this helps with ideas! I’d love to hear ya take. I love the way you write Obey me so yeah!
I'm so sorry this took so long, I need to create a visual in my head first and it takes long to write an AU :')
--------------------------------------------------
Swapped Alternate Universe
Swapped Universe: Introduction
Warnings:
Links: Masterlist
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You were just going around the forests beside fields, feeding on whatever there is
But all of a sudden
An entitled prince, randomly sent you a letter saying you're invited into this type of program
But it's suspicious
The incentives favors the participants way too much...
What could possibly be the catch?
ROLES: Cryptids
MC MCLN
TYPE: Cryptid (Mutt sheep)
It is rumored that the "Mutt-Sheep" cryptids are a cross between lambs and canines, and are known to be found in areas with dense forests. Some describe them as a cross between a sheep and a dog, with a thick sheep-like coat covering their body, large claws on their paws for digging in the forest floor, and a canine's nose and teeth for hunting small animals. However, the exact origin and nature of the Mutt-Sheep cryptids are still unknown and shrouded in mystery. Despite this, sightings of these creatures have been reported by people who claim to have seen them lurking in the forest.
SOLOMON
TYPE: Cryptid (Naga)
They are described as having a human upper body, often with arms and chest, and from the waist down, they have the tail and scales of a snake. The Naga are said to be intelligent and powerful beings, capable of controlling the elements of nature and using their powers to influence the world around them. Many people believe that the Naga possess magical abilities that they use to protect their territory and the creatures that live there.
ROLE: Humans
DIAVOLO
JOB: President of RLD
The Royal Lab of Diavolo (RLD) is a highly advanced underground research facility with top-notch equipment and state-of-the-art technology. The lab is focused on developing peace between different races, such as humans, humanoid, cryptids, and monster hunters. The primary goal of the lab is to find ways to bridge the gap between the different races, and to create an environment where all beings can live together in harmony. The lab is led by a team of highly skilled scientists and researchers who work tirelessly around the clock to advance their research and find solutions to the world's problems.
BARBATOS
JOB: Vice president of RLD
The vice president of the Royal Lab of Diavolo is responsible for overseeing the day-to-day operations of the lab, including the management of staff, the supervision of research projects, and the coordination of activities with external partners and stakeholders. The vice president also plays a key role in managing the lab's finances and ensuring that resources are being used effectively and efficiently. Additionally, they may be involved in developing and implementing strategic plans for the lab's long-term growth and success. Therefore, the vice president plays an important role in the lab's success and helps to ensure that its mission of promoting peace and unity among different beings is achieved.
LUCIFER
JOB: Chief Fiance Officer (CFO)
The Chief Financial Officer (CFO) is a high-level executive position that is responsible for overseeing the financial operations and strategy of an organization. He works for the government and is supporting the current king.
MAMMON
JOB: Actor
He is the most famous actor out there starring in every genre whether it may be romance, comedy, action or adventure. He also stars in his own TV show series that broke multiple records and nominated multiple times on award show as well as receiving hundreds of awards.
LEVIATHAN
JOB: Programmer and Developer
A famous IT that works for the government and helps maintain government systems and Technologies, being one of the most trusted and talented worker in this field he has access to everything that can be found online.
SATAN
JOB: Proffesor
The youngest and top proffesor of one of the best schools found in the world, being the charming and mysterious proffesor whose world seems to revolve around books and his well known addiction, cats.
ASMODEUS
JOB: Model
The jewel of the human world, modeling for every possible brands to exist. He's known for his unforgettable face and his unmatched charm that helped him rise to the top of the world of fashion.
BEELZEBUB
JOB: Chef
A world-class chef that cooks for the king, known for his unique skills and for his beautiful physique. A man that made multiple woman swoon because of his looks and cooking skills.
BELPHEGOR
JOB: Doctor
A mysterious Doctor who seems to enjoy cutting things up and inventing antidotes or medicines against viruses and diseases that does not have a cure yet. He seems to be passionate about his job but the reason why he entered this field is still unknown.
ROLE: Hunters
SIMEON
RANK: A
A Rank A monster hunter is one of the best, most skilled and experienced monster hunters out there. They have exceptional abilities and skill in fighting and defeating monsters, as well as an in-depth knowledge of different types of monsters and how to defeat them.
Rank A Monster hunters are highly skilled and experienced in the art of hunting monsters. They are sought after for their exceptional abilities and knowledge. Their skill and experience have earned them a reputation as some of the finest monster hunters in the world.
LUKE
RANK: C
A Rank C monster hunter is considered an entry-level monster hunter. They are relatively new to the field and are still developing their skills and gaining experience. While they may have some basic knowledge of monster hunting techniques, they lack the advanced abilities and knowledge of higher-ranked Hunters. Nonetheless, they can still be an asset to a team and can perform certain tasks with supervision and guidance.
Overall, Rank C monster hunters are still learning and gaining experience. They are not always ready to handle high-level or dangerous missions, and are often assigned tasks and roles under the supervision and guidance of
#obey me fluff#obey me headcanons#obey me nightbringer#obey me scenarios#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me angst#obey me x reader#obey me crack#obey me AU#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#obey me luke
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Twisted Wonderland's Grim is a Grimalkin.
Okay TWST fandom, so today I was chatting away with another friend who plays TWST explaining that it's highly likely that Crowley summoned us due to the opening you get when you first start the game and she asked why he'd do that. And I said this without thinking:
Once I said that, it hit me: GRIM IS NOT NAMED FOR GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES, HE'S A GRIMALKIN.
Let me explain! (This is a long post, you've been forewarned. There is a TLDR at the bottom if you need it.)
So I like reading fairy tale books, retellings, etc., and I learned a long time ago during my high school hyperfixation on reading faery based YA readings about Grimalkins. What are Grimalkins?
Grimalkin (Also spelled Greymalkin) is an archaic term that was often used to describe cats; particularly haggard, female cats. Grimalkin, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, likely comes from compounding the words "Grey" and "Malkin". "Malkin" is a term with several meanings including: a low-class woman, a weakling, an untidy slovenly woman. It's also used to describe cats and hares.
Grimalkins were listed in Scottish legends as a faery cat that dwelt in the highlands, but during the 16th Century witch trials, cats became associated with the devil and witchcraft. Women on trial in Scotland were frequently accused of having a familiar, a ‘demon in disguise’, which was often a Grimalkin. One example of Grimalkins being tied to witchcraft and the devil at the time is William Shakespeare's play MacBeth, which shows the Three Witches who foretell Macbeth's future as having a cat familiar named Grimalkin. They're also in Louis Le Breton's Dictionnaire Infernal, which is a book on demonology.
So how does this relate to Grim?
Grim's design is heavily influenced by common media portrayals of the Devil with a pitchfork tail and fiery pointed ears that can look like horns at times.
One reason that fire is blue like Hades, Idia, and Ortho's hair is because thanks to the Pop Culture understanding of Christianity, people heard Hades and thought to equivocate him to Satan which is why he's the bad guy in the Disney movie, Hercules, when in the original myth, Hera is the one antagonizing Heracles.
Also, most of the fandom believes this creature in the pre Prologue scene when you first start the game, is Grim.
Just saying this looks a lot like different representations of devils and demons.
Note the human hands and clawed feet on this statue of Pazuzu.
And the incorporation of animal traits blended with humans
This is some concept art for Bald Mountain in Fantasia and I can see leathery wings like a dragon/bat, one has a snakey tail, and some have those human-like hands, but clawed feet.
As stated earlier, Grimalkins are tied heavily to devils and witchcraft and TWST tends to push this at us. For Halloween, while all the Dorms have different monsters such as mummies, ghost pirates, headless horsemen, but Ramshackle's Halloween outfit is this:
Not only that, but when we wake up, this is what Crowley says to us about Grim, when he finds us in the library after Grim cornered us, trying to get our robes:
Again, the most common familiar that people accused of witchcraft were said to have was a Grimalkin. A demon cat. This also ties into why we and Grim are put in Ramshackle Dorm.
Now, as some know, Ramshackle Dorm is based on the Haunted Mansion. But the Haunted Mansion had a specific haunt that was cut before the ride came out: The One-eyed Black Cat.
Now, if you don't know this cat, it's okay. He was cut before the ride came out. To sum up, X Atencio, the Imagineer who came up with the basic story ideas and the script for the rides of Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean, had many drafts of the Haunted Mansion's story. One of these cut drafts had a distinct villain character: The One-Eyed Black Cat.
Now, people might argue the Bride/Constance Hatchaway is the villain of the Haunted Mansion, but the One-Eyed Black Cat was different. In that draft, the Ghost Host would warn guests about the One-Eyed Black Cat and the One-Eyed Black Cat was specifically trying to attack/get the guests on the ride and detested mortals, especially happy ones. Guests would've seen signs of the cat throughout the ride as if he was stalking them (Think something akin to the little glimpses of Catnap as he stalks the player throughout Poppy Playtime Chapter 3). At the end of the ride, they would've faced the cat, who's face would turn into some form of human-esque skull like head.
Now the cat made it pretty far before he was cut, because we do have surviving sound outtakes of Paul Frees, the voice of the Ghost Host, saying "Except for that unnatural and dreadful one-eyed black cat" which implies he's not one of the 999 happy haunts, but something truly evil, like a demon.
Now, One-Eyed Black Cat's not mentioned in the Haunted Mansion ride, and there's an idea that his role was passed over to the Raven, another cut antagonistic character who would haunt the rider specifically, but was less unnatural than the cat, but the more likely reason is both the raven and the cat were cut due to the ride changing from story driven to an atmospheric ride. However, nowadays, you can find the One-Eyed Black Cat on the Composer's Crypt in Walt Disney World and as a statue in Disneyland's Haunted Mansion (Funnily enough, during the Haunted Mansion Holiday, the cat statue gets a black and white pinstripe bow...).
Now, this may be reaching, but Grim chasing the player throughout the school, trying to steal their robes because he wasn't allowed to attend NRC, feels like a reference to this possibly demonic cut cat character. Also, his smirk face does make one of his eyes look smaller than the other, kind of like the image on the Composer Crypt.
Anyways, back to Grimalkins. So besides being tied to the devil and witchcraft, Grimalkins were also known as Scottish faery cats. Why does this matter? May I draw your attention to these moments from Book 6 and Book 7?
(Warning minor spoilers)
Idia discussing what Grim is.
Idia and Ortho describing powerful magic cast on Grim.
And from Book 7 Chapter 106
Soi in Book 6, Idia notes Grim is some magical mix of direbeast and animal. In a lot of faery stories, faery animals like Grimalkins, Cat Sidhe, and Kelpies look very similar to normal animals, but they are distinctly a fae, which makes them much more dangerous to mess around with. Much like how Grim is not fully an animal, he's also part direbeast which, considering what has been mentioned in game about direbeasts, sounds like a distinctly magical species that is far more dangerous that regular animals.
Grim is also noted to fluctuate between full Phantom and absolutely no blot levels, but Idia does note a complex magical spell on him that later Papa Shroud mentions is very similar to Malleus's magical realm, which is a faerie spell... (Again, there's that faerie connection). Likewise, depending on the story context, Grimalkins can either be demonic familiars to witches (more akin to TWST Phantoms) or they can be faery creatures (more like TWST Direbeasts).
I've also noticed people point out some kind of connection between Malleus and Grim. There's a blog post by ventique18 does a really good job about pointing out the similarities between the two. Here's the link: https://www.tumblr.com/ventique18/721267245925400576/three-pronged-tail-bringing-back-the-grim-is?source=share
So perhaps one of the reasons for the tie between them is Grim is at least in part based on a Grimalkin, a faery cat, and Malleus is a dragon faery. With all these little things lining up, maybe Grim got his name in part from Grimm's Fairy Tales, but I really and truly do believe Grim is some form of Grimalkin and his name is more a reference to that, but whether he is based on the demonic familiar, faery, or BOTH, we shall see.
TLDR: I'm pretty sure Grim is HEAVILY based on a Scottish fae cat creature/demonic cat that act as a witch's familar called a Grimalkin because there's a lot of references that seem to point to that.
#Grim is a grimalkin#there's so many similarities#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#twst#twst en#disney twst#book 7 twst#twst grim#grimalkin#grim twst#twisted wonderland ramshackle dorm#one-eyed black cat#disney haunted mansion ride#the haunted mansion
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i can't stop thinking about qfoolishs interactions with the golden cucurucho child, he had this certain lilt to his voice all day and was dropping such fascinating lines i've been clawing at the bars of my enclosure needing to dissect it. So I propose the perspective of viewing their interactions as qfoolish possibly projecting onto the goldernruchito
Even looking at just the line "You're just a statue, remember that", replace statue with totem and suddenly it becomes eerily similar to the feelings qfoolish has long been implied to have in relation to his own status of a totem. Are totems not also statues? I'm fairly certain he might've even described himself as some kind of statue before. He dehumanises himself often though subtly, he serves a purpose, one he has to fulfil. He's just a totem.
This comparison between foolish and the goldenruchito continues in the line "we're the same", id like to think qfoolish meant this beyond their golden skins. He's been known to empathise and identify with gold and totems before and they're lifeless, this is a living golden child. To me this could be qfoolish confirming he sees himself in the kid.
This becomes far sadder with the question "are you the only one of your kind?", with the context of qfoolish possibly projecting it's easy to understand what i'm implying. We've never seen another totem on the qsmp, hybrid or not. Not in federation notes, nor implied totem throwaway lore. Hell, even qfoolish hardly knows what he is. Demons are a species, they're able to find and identify each other and often stick together. There's understanding between groups of hybrids, shared instincts and experiences. And then there's foolish. Unique, painfully so. It makes me wonder if he'd ever seen anything like himself before, perhaps ever. He might just be "the only one of his kind". You'd see how this fellow golden being could really shake him up, maybe being a part of his fascination and fluctuating opinion on the kid.
This thing is like him, but not really, but kinda. It might as well be a totem, even if it isn't. He doesn't like it. It's just a child, all alone.
This isn't canon, but foolish isn't gonna give us anything so i take what i get. In my heart it's canon. Thanks for reading :]
#oh golden boy how brave you are#qsmp#qsmp foolish#qsmp thoughts#qsmp analysis#foolish gamers#doozer doozys
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"Both Sides Of Silence" - Radiosilence fic
Word count: 3.5k
A/N I made a rant abt this (here)and decided to write it and ended up getting swept up in it haha.
This is my personal headcanon on how Alastor reacted when his friendship with Vox ended
Cw: SFW, angst
The state of Alastor's room was horrendous. The radio host's quarters could normally be described as rather unnerving due to their decor, however the space now looked like a downright horror show.
It was as if a storm had raged within with furniture overturned and scratched up, vases and photo frames broken - all of this leaving a hazardous mixture of glass fragments, splinters and lounge stuffing strewn everywhere.
In the middle of the mess, said demon’s form crumpled against the floor. Alastor's claws gripped at his hair, pulling hard upon it as he shook with heaving breaths, a mixture of despair and boiling rage inside of him, making him even more volatile than usual.
The object of his plight's photo sat before him. An unwanted reminder of the first time he and his former friend met.
Allowing Vox to take a photo with him had been an olive branch he reached out to the other demon, rarely offered outside of special circumstances.
Seeing it now stung him deep, bringing inner turmoil unlike anything the cannibalistic overlord had felt in a long long time.
An actual, real bond with someone had become an estranged concept to him during his time in hell. After his mother died, he'd severed every last attachment to anyone else, only really playing into superficial, shallow attachments to others. Nothing that couldn't easily be brushed off.
Or at least, he thought he had.
The snapped cord of his friendship with the TV demon truly cut him deep in a way that he thought was not possible.
The fact of the matter filled him with such visceral self-disgust that he fought the need to dry heave as his claws sank into his scalp in an attempt to ground himself. It inevitably failed as his mind once again revisited the damned situation that had unfolded just hours before for the umpteenth time that night.
-
A friendly get-together with Vox, just a drink at a quiet bar they often met at when they had time to do so just like any other.
Through the whole night the TV demon had seemed as if he had been stressed about something. They conversed as usual, backed by soft jazz music in the cozy wooden interior of the joint, however it was obvious to Alastor that his companion was out of sorts.
Vox's blue claws fidgeted from where he gripped at his drink - a nervous tell which Alastor had long ago picked up from his first meetings with him in the old days - his shoulders hunched in the orange turtleneck sweater he wore.
“You have been shaking like a leaf this whole time. What seems to be the matter, my friend?” Alastor asked after taking a sip of his whiskey, gently tilting the glass back and forth causing the amber liquid to swish around.
His red eyes looked to the side at the other demon with a casual half-lidded stare, drinking in every small reaction the TV demon gave with a finely tuned expertise despite his exterior.
Vox visibly flinched, caught off guard by the sudden call to his behaviour. His CRT head coyly tilted in Alastor's direction, small pupils looking to the side at him and shoulders hunching further and making himself even smaller where he sat as if in an attempt to give himself more security.
A rather peculiar response. Not something unexpected to the deer demon at all however, Vox's unique responses and attitude was something Alastor quite enjoyed about him, it was what made him interesting.
“It's nothing. Well not yet at least..” Vox mumbled quietly, trailing off vaguely. Alastor hummed curiously while quirking a brow. Vox flushed nervously, his heart rate picking up.
Vox had long since discovered his feelings for Alastor but had stayed quiet in fear that it would ruin their friendship. In the beginning, he was content with that, just letting their relationship stay how it always had been - purely platonic. That was the safe option.
It just grew more intrusive the longer he didn't say anything though.
Alastor didn't like to be touched, but was far too content in getting in others’ personal space if it was on his own terms - including Vox’s own. Every time his shoulders or arms or god forbid face were touched briefly by the deer it sent his heart aflutter and he could barely keep himself together.
Even the memory of the last time almost sent him sparking. When he thought of those red eyes looking down at him, claws on either side of his face, he knew that he would surely burn himself up if he didn't finally say something. It was agony to stay silent.
What was the worst that could happen? A rejection? It wasn't like that would end everything they had worked for. In his mind, he knew Alastor enough to surely say he wouldn't up and leave him over this. They'd known each other too long for all of that to be ruined by this... Right?
Alastor watched Vox’s internal strife with amused curiosity as he casually fidgeted with the lip of his glass, waiting expectantly.
Vox cleared his throat, straightening up and trying to put on a confident and sure face. “Alastor, we have known each other for years now. And.. I'd argue to say that we are quite good pals at this point,” Vox began strongly, grinning at Alastor. His grin faltered a bit and his cheeks flushed as he watched the radio demon's eyebrow only raise even further. Vox coughed into his hand. “I would also argue that we would work well together as more than just.. friends… who occasionally work together as purely business partners.” Vox finished, looking at Alastor and trying to find some kind of reassurance.
He didn't find any.
Alastor's ear twitched slightly as if he was trying to better process what he'd just heard. He felt a stab of unsureness that mixed with his stomach dropping inside of him. He didn't show it yet however and instead laughed. “Apologies darling! I'm not quite sure I follow. Are you asking to become permanent business partners?” He hoped that was what he was on about, and not the alternative which had his hackles rising.
Vox gulped, taking the question as genuine confusion about his rather vague choice of words. “N-not quite just that.. listen.. I,” Vox glanced at Alastor's other hand unoccupied by his drink just resting on the bar and tentatively reached out his hand to gently take it in his own. “Alastor, I don't want to just be business partners. I want to be partners in general. I'm in.. Jesus,” Vox gulped, trying to will his mouth to stop being so damn dry. “...I'm in love with you.” Vox’s brow furrowed as he gently squeezed Alastor’s hand in his, looking up at him with a soft expression, vulnerable in a way Vox would normally have squashed instantaneously.
Alastor’s eyes blew open wide making him ironically resemble a deer in headlights, lip curling as he processed the interaction and confession. His usually wide pupils shrunk as he looked down at his palm in Vox’s, utter disgust rocking through him at the sight.
Vox felt his heart break at the way Alastor was looking at him holding his hand, and awkwardly laughed in an attempt to fight the pit of absolute mortification consuming him, making him want to melt into the ground and disappear.
“I- s-sorry I just thought you may have understood. Maybe even felt the same- I mean we've known each other so long and have been close for-” Vox began to say, voice glitching out with heavy emotion. He flinched hard, silenced as Alastor suddenly ripped his hand away hard in contrast to his soft hold.
“No.” Alastor sharply, turning his nose up at Vox with a sneer, irritation filling him at the assumption.
Vox's humiliation at the nature of his rejection grew as Alastor quite literally looked down upon him. “right… sorry. I should have known,” Vox apologised, looking to the side with his cheeks burning under the weight of his gaze. “We have been close so long that I should have known better-” He was cut off by a cold bark of laughter.
“Stop saying that,” Alastor’s anger raised quickly, loud, angry static seeping through his usual facquade of uncaring. “If you think that you know me that way, then you severely overestimate your worth to me, my ‘friend’.”
Alastor was disgusted enough by the declaration, but his insistence that they were ‘close’ was what got under his skin the most. The reason for this? He couldn't quite grasp it at that exact moment. It would of course come later.
Vox let out a laugh this time, disbelief turning into him being more angrier than anything - a laughably similar response to the one Alastor was having simultaneously. “Oh you have to be kidding me! Don't act like we aren't best friends just because you don't like that I have feelings for you, you pompous old-timey radio fuck! We are close friends and you know damn fucking we-”
“No,” Vox felt the statement in every part of himself, it finally being the thing to break his steadily cracking heart into pieces. Vox fell silent, a look of struck anguish written all over his face.“You serve as occasional entertainment for me from your hollow, far lesser medium. Don't you dare act like we were, would be or even could ever be equals.” Alastor spat, rising from his seat.
Vox didn't even react to the insult to his work, feeling all encompassing numbness as the lights overhead flashed once, then twice, then clicked off as Alastor began to grow in size, more substantial antlers growing from his head and flashing green symbols surrounding him threateningly.
The TV demon shook, frozen in place on the bar stool, eyes wide and terrified despite the pervasive feeling of emptiness within him, blue pupils impossibly small as he looked into the rapidly spinning dials in his former best friend's eyes.
Alastor hunched over him and slowly raised his claws to grip either one of Vox's shoulders hard, digging into his turtleneck and skin below painfully, causing the TV demon to wince.
Alastor lowered his face, moving it close to Vox's screen and breathing out deeply, relishing in the way Vox shuddered at his hot breath fanning across his face with a grin that did not reflect his tone or true expression in the slightest.
Alastor then proceeded to stomp upon the shards of years of friendship seemingly with no care at all in one last statement, which brought tears to the already mentally crushed TV demon's eyes.
“You are nothing to me.”
-
But that wasn't true at all.
Alastor had disappeared in a flourish afterwards, leaving Vox shaking and alone in the bar, stalking home, and then absolutely losing his mind in private.
Alastor’s hands shook, slowly ripping through his hair and pulling out a few strands as he snapped back to reality and grit his teeth, lips twitching out of his perfect, unwavering grin for a second again as he looked at the smiling image of them together.
The truth was that he undeniably cared for Vox.
All these hollow, surface-level friendships which served as temporary entertainment that he held with demons like Mimzy paled in comparison to what they had.
Although still seldom, Alastor had shared much more of the truth with him than he had with others; about the same as with Rosie. The difference of course being their public rivalry unlike with Rosie. More even ground in which they were equal threats to one-another's power over the people of pentagram city.
He shuddered at the thought.
They were rivals, and with horror, he realised that he almost did regard Vox as his equal in their friendship. Enough to form a genuine care for him that wasn't solely him simply using Vox to meet his own ends.
They were close, and the fact of that hit him in a terrifying way as his old friend's absence burned an empty pit within him.
He was such an utter fool for letting it get to this point where he needed to destroy every last tie to stay powerful but simply couldn't.
His hands shook as he looked down at the photograph taunting him once again; him knowing he had to destroy it but not being able to.
Shameful weakness.
Alastor let out a frustrated growl, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped at the photograph and ripped it down the middle.
He slammed either half of the photo on the floor in either hand, looking at the damage done. A literal physical manifestation of the relationship he'd metaphorically ripped down the middle.
Alastor would scoff at the symbolism normally with laughter, thinking it a stupid display of weakness of those far lesser then he if there weren't currently tears falling from his eyes onto the patch of wooden floor in between where either half of the photograph now sat apart.
He grit his teeth at the realisation that he was crying. For the first time since his mother died, he was actually weeping for another. The revelation curled as nauseating disgust for the demon, and he cursed the TV demon more than anything for making him this weak. Weak like him.
He needed to sever ties.
He needed to stop caring.
He needed to erase the TV demon from his life completely.
He knew all of that and yet…
Alastor laughed now - a sound without a lick of sanity behind it-, smiling as he gripped the half of the photo with Vox on it, falling back onto the floor and holding up the torn photo, looking up at it in the dim light of his room
The wooden floor uncomfortably dug into his back, but he didn't care at all. Alastor's laughing slowly died out, turning instead into a sound much like breathless sobbing.
“You will pay for doing this to me.” Alastor's red eyes shook, fluttering between his normal pupils and the dials as he regarded his next action with shaky euphoria, the emotion stretching itself over the logical side of himself screaming to let it go.
Alastor's anger of also being caught up in the silence he was supposed to have control over won over all rational decision making.
I will make sure that you need me just as much as I need you, you new-age trash.
Alastor's lips quivered around his wide grin as he gave a chuckle that was all too forced, pressing the back of his hand across his eyes and wiping away his tears, internally squashing his insecurity down and pretending he didn't care.
Even if he knew he did deep down, all that mattered was that onlookers, and especially Vox, didn't see that.
He would remain unbothered externally while locking the truth up deep inside that in the end the radio demon would be just as obsessed with Vox as he is with him.
-
After a long night of drowning his sorrows, the last thing Vox wanted was to answer the front door and face anybody. He of course, did anyways. If it was a business opportunity, it would hardly be wise to skip out on it. Especially after…
Vox shook his head with a hissing breath, trying to will the memory of the walk of shame he'd done away after apologising to the bartender who'd come out from behind the bar finally after Alastor had gone berserk for the disturbance.
Despite his picture perfect expression that never really fully dulled in the same way others experienced - the perks to having a TV for a head - it was clear that he was still struggling by the way he slumped and his brow was furrowed, eyes squinted; open just a crack to try avoid the thudding stabs of pain through his head with the hangover he was nursing.
It was bullshit to him that even with a flatscreen for a face, he still could manage to get hungover.
The tile floor of his tower, which he had bought recently, clicked under the heels of his shoes, dim fluorescent lights painting everything in a sickly, lifeless glow. It only sought to make his mood even worse.
He grumbled to himself as he reached the door finally, dodging all the unpacked boxes as he went and forcing himself to smile before swinging the heavy door open to greet whoever was there.
Dreams of new business partners and an underlying, pitiful hope that it could even be Alastor coming to apologise or pretend like nothing happened yesterday like after their usual arguments were immediately squashed as he was revealed nothing behind it.
Just the barely inhabited entertainment district he had been working on for a little while now. On the other side of the street a line of TV's, each with a monochrome display playing an ad for a cereal he had gotten a sponsorship with blared monotonously behind their glass displays.
It was clear none of the few people staring blankly at the screens had rung the bell so he could hear the door all the way in his room.
Vox's smile dropped and he then blankly stared into the empty air, tired eyes squinting as he deeply exhaled. He'd kill whatever asshole had rung and run for messing with him on the cameras positioned everywhere later, maybe that would lift his spirits a little bit.
He shut the large glass doors, once again locking them. As he did so, a piece of paper fell to the ground; formerly suspended in the door jam and dislodged by its movement.
Vox watched it flutter to the obnoxiously white tiles of the floor with a raised brow. He could see it was torn, seemingly a face-down picture of some kind from the different colour peaking through from the back under the lights.
“What on...” Vox said, unamused as he leaned down to pick it up.
Another cold wave of sadness that he thought he had numbed out already after last night swept over him as realised it was the first photo that he and Alastor had ever taken together - ripped down the middle so that Alastor was clearly present, a bit of his own face visible in the corner.
Vox’s screen glitched into a line of broken pixels, blurring his quickly souring expression as he realised that Alastor had just been here to deliver half of the photo.
He had been here and left wordlessly. So it really was over. His clawed hands shook as he pressed one against the wall of the entrance hall to steady himself, squinting his eyes shut.
His head spun; a dizzying mixture of his hangover, the overbearing lights all around him, and the god awful feelings of self-hatred, tiredness, heartbreak, and worst of all betrayal all mixing together. The fact that this is how their years of friendship had ended was a crushing weight on his shoulders. It was ridiculous.
In that moment as he had finally decided to confess he swore that they would still stay together even if it wasn't as lovers. That even if Alastor rejected his feelings, they would still maintain their friendship.
He was wrong, of course.
Him keeping his silence had hurt before, but it rang far more now he was all alone.
Vox’s eyes cracked open again despite the way his headache protested, looking back to his other hand which still held the torn photo delicately to avoid any further damage to it.
His blue pupils passively drank in the image of Alastor's smiling face again.
It was all ridiculous.
A screeching sound rang out in the entry room, echoing in an unnerving way through the mostly empty building as his claws dug into the wall he was leaning against, raking deep nail marks into the plaster as just about the most potent wave of anger he thought he had probably felt ever swept itself over every other conflicting emotion inside of him.
He had given so much to that asshole. His time, his dreams, and worst of all his secrets.
All of these were treated like nothing in Alastor's hands.
He was treated like nothing.
Alastor even said it; Vox was nothing to him. Nothing but a past-time.
'Occasional entertainment'
Vox’s chest clenched with burning anger at the insult to how much he was worth as a demon. He was worth far more than most of the pathetic low-lives in this city. Heck, all of them.
He was too good for Alastor even, and yet that snobby hazbin radio announcer had the audacity to treat him in such a way?
Ah yes, the delusionally grandiose rug over his kicked-in ego. A bitter thought which tugged at the back of his mind but got inevitably drowned out by everything else.
The lights overhead hummed louder and louder with the passing seconds.
He let out a growl that petered off into a yell interrupted by glitches, air filled with crackling electricity coming off of him in waves the longer he dwelled upon the state of everything.
-
From down the street, Alastor let out a satisfied chuckle as he saw the lights within Vox's tower flickering aggressively.
The deed was done, and although some pathetic part of him weakly protested, it was crushed where it stood. He turned on his heel, arms folded behind his back while he strided in the opposite direction.
He made his bed and now he had to lie in it.
His eye twitched slightly as a stab of regret once again made itself known.
As cold as it was.
Damn did my ass get carried away writing this one haha
#radiosilence#onewaybroadcast#complicated and sad#voxal#radiostatic#one sided radiostatic#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel alastor headcanons#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#vox#alastor#hazbin hotel vox headcanons#accidentally hit post on this one early but it should be fine hopefully
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THE SIX THAT THRIVE IS A 18+ INTERACTIVE FICTION! THIS DEALS WITH DISTURBING THEMES OF HORROR, MURDER, GORE, VIOLENCE, EXPLICIT SEX SCENES, ABUSE, DISCRIMINATION, AND DARK ROMANCE! PLEASE BE AWARE WHEN INTERACTING WITH THIS STORY
· · ─────── ·☽☼☾· ─────── · ·
♡ | DELVE DEEPER |
♡ | DEMO | ~ LAST UPDATED: AUGUST 2ND 2023
♡ | PATREON | DISCORD | ASK BOX |
· · ─────── ·☽☼☾· ─────── · ·
AMERICA | NORTHEAST | DISTRICT 6 | DATE UNKOWN
ILLECEBRA
/ilˈle.ke.bra/
/noun/
1. the state of enticement and or lure.
· · ───── · ☼ · ───── · ·
“Anyone with the illecebra Illness is destined to die at the age of 22. There is no cure.”
You were destined to die in 22 years. Since the moment of your birth, you have known your downfall. The age in which you die. You aren’t sure why your parents told you, why they wanted you to know on your tenth birthday, but they did. Holding back tears as if they were the ones to suffer, as if they knew the exact moments they’d die. You like to pretend they prepared you, made you live your life without fear, but—
You’re 22 this year. With no cure in sight, and no way to prevent what is bound to happen to you. You’ll die and you’ll die soon. Unless you can make a deal.
Nearly two thousand years ago, creatures assumed only myth broke free from the ground and ripped away the sky. Fighting amongst themselves and fighting and killing humans. Unable to fight against these creatures, the creation of districts came into being, representing states, nations, and countries, bound to crawl amongst the floor and a dome of safety for the humans living.
Your story begins within the District of Six, one of the first domes built, and the location of the Eclipse Facility, which is in charge of studying Subjects who are monsters from the outside.
☼ Bring Death to a vicious cycle and allow destiny to take a course or Save a vicious world, which seems to be beyond saving. It is up to you.
☼ Customizable MC
[Name, Personality, Gender, Pronouns, Appearance(tattoos n scars), Traits, Allergies, Diet, Piercings, Aesthetics, & More]
☼ Ability to have certain traits, likes, and disabilities
[Favorite Foods, Smoking/Drinking Habits, & More]
[Personality, Mental Illness, Hearing Aids, Prosthetic Arms or Legs and choosing how you lost + MORE]
☼ Options that have and effect on romantic and platonic relationships.
☼ Choose between seven romanceable Love Interests or None at All.
☼ Stats that will affect the story.
☼ The ability to fight, run, hide, and survive.
[Harem Route & Poly Routes Optional]
☽☼☾ [THE DEMON] SUBJECT F-24:
THE FIRE WHICH BREATHS — {AMAB - MAN}
A sadistic and sarcastic demon that is often quiet and looms around you like a shadow, he's oddly cold to others and can be described as being dosed with water. He's smart, far smarter than the others, and only cares for your input. He's murderous and has no qualms about killing others for you. No matter how good they seem. He's lazy but has an extremely good sense of smell and exceptional hearing.
“What the others think, matter not. I’m here for you and you alone.”
༺ Appearance:
6’7FT[200.66CM] He says long, shaggy black hair that reaches his waist and messy side hair pieces that messily shape his face. He has striking almond-shaped gold eyes that seem to glow. He has an athletic build and warm tan skin that's littered with scars, such as cuts, bites, gashes, healed bullet holes, and claw marks. He has a facial scar that runs vertically along his lip's left side.
[UNKNOWN YRS OLD, SPECIES: DEMON BLOODHOUND]
· · ─────── ·☽☼☾· ─────── · ·
☽☼☾ [THE ANGEL] SUBJECT L-18:
THE WESTERN WINDS WHICH BLOWS — {AFAB - WOMAN}
A calm and energetic person who switches often. Sometimes being extremely energetic and loud, while others, she's calming, and sometimes you forget she's even there. She's kind and loves humans and mortals. She finds their short lifespans adorable and thinks humans are adorable since she's lived many lifetimes. She is quite the birdbrain and often jumps from topic to topic.
“Aw, humans are the cutest~ I just love, love, love ‘em!”
༺ Appearance:
6’0FT[182.88CM] She's a tall woman with the orangish-yellow talons and legs of a harpy eagle, with two large white wings that fade into a pastel yellow. She has the tail of a bird, which is a pastel yellow that fades into a pastel blue. Her skin is white, almost yellow, and she's covered in an assortment of blue freckles, varying in color.
[3000 YRS OLD, SPECIES: HARPY]
· · ─────── ·☽☼☾· ─────── · ·
☽☼☾ [THE DRAGON] SUBJECT R-12:
THE WATER IN WHICH BITES — {??? - GENDERFLUID}
A quiet and soft-spoken woman who spends most of his time reading. She's very straightforward, blunt, and struggles to pick up on social cues. He likes the dark and spends time in the dark corners, only speaking up when necessary. She's obedient and kind but dislikes humans.
“… No. It is simply easier for my skin to remain in the dark.”
༺ Appearance:
5’11FT(180.34CM) She's a tall and slender woman with dark brown skin that looks almost black and black eyes. She has raven black hair that reaches her feet, with two long dark blue horns. Her back is lined with dark blue spikes. Her wrist, upper thighs, upper arms, and ankles have white armbands. She also has a thick lizard-like tail with spikes that run along the middle. While her forehead has an intricate design, similar to a circlet.
[UNKNOWN YRS OLD, SPECIES: DRAGON(UNCOMFIRMED)]
· · ─────── ·☽☼☾· ─────── · ·
☽☼☾ [THE ARMADILLO] SUBJECT X-6:
THE EARTH IN WHICH LIVES — {AMAB - GENDERFLUID}
A hardheaded and stubborn individual who is strong-willed but hates change. They often spend time sleeping, curled up into a ball like a rolly-polly. They hate humans and don't shy away from letting you know; they're sometimes outspoken and aggressive.
“Get away, please! The last thing I need is human cooties!”
༺ Appearance:
6’10FT(208.28CM) He has deep brown skin and glowing emerald green eyes, with pale brown armor plates along his back, starting at the base of his neck, with a long flat tail that drags behind him. He has short curly dark brown hair, and his face is dusted in white and pale brown freckles.
[1046 YRS OLD, SPECIES: UNKNOWN (WITHIN ARMADILLO FAMILY)]
· · ─────── ·☽☼☾· ─────── · ·
☽☼☾ THE WARDEN:
THE VOID WHICH BECKONS — {AMAB - MAN}
A towering, intimidating man that rarely speaks but is quite sadistic. He cares for order more than justice and is okay with playing the role of the bad guy. He prefers it. He's seen as emotionless and uncaring but constantly aware of his surroundings. He demands attention and unwavering loyalty.
“You must simply follow the rules. Or die. There is no other option.”
༺ Appearance:
6’7FT[200.66CM] Simple black slacks, thick black winter trench with silver buckles and chains, and a black helmet similar to a 12th Century English Knight.
[UNKNOWN YRS OLD, SPECIES: SPECKULATED SHADOW BEING OR CHAOS DEMON]
· · ─────── ·☽☼☾· ─────── · ·
TWO HIDDEN LOVE INTERESTS - THE KING & ????
· · ─────── ·☽☼☾· ─────── · ·
☽☼☾ HAREM [MAIN] ROUTE:
F-24, L-18, R-12, X-6, WARDEN, & MC
☽☼☾ POLY ROUTES:
Poly Route One: F-24, WARDEN, & MC
Poly Route Two: L-18, R-12, & MC
Poly Route Three: L-18, R-12, X-6, & MC
Poly Route Four: R-12, Warden, & MC
Poly Route Five: X-6, Warden, & MC
Poly Route Six: F-24, R-12, Warden, & MC
Poly Route Seven: F-24, R-12, & MC
[You’ll learn their names in book]
ⓒ 2023 CVLUTOSGAMES & the-six-that-thrive-if — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.
#interactive fiction#interactive fiction demos#interactive fic#twine interactive fiction#interactive fiction twine#itchio interactive fic#twine games#itchio games#dating sim#horror interactive fic#t.manor.basement#the six that thrive
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Die Roggenmuhme
The Rye Aunt
The Rye Aunt is a female cereal demon and children's fright of German folk tales, who lives in grain fields.
The Rye Aunt wanders up and down in the fields, feeds on the grain and tears out the immature ears. If she is angry with the farmer, she punishes him by drying out his fields. In general, however, the appearance of the Rye Aunt in the fields is a sign of a good harvest. During the harvest, she flees into the last truss. The Rye Aunt receives a share of the harvest, which is either left behind or thrown into the field. This custom is to propitiate the Rye Aunt and bring about a fertile next year.
The Rye Aunt is generally thought to live underground, in the empire of the roots or in a cave.
The Rye Aunt punishes lazy maids, who have not spun off their spinning rocks in the Boxing Week. The breath of the Rye Aunt brings illness and death.
Appearance
The Rye Aunt is often described as completely black or snow-white, and of superhuman size. Her arms are long or made of iron. Her fingers are fiery or iron. It is also said that the Rye Aunt has claws on her hands, which may also be made of iron.
The Rye Aunt has unusually large breasts that are so long that she can fold them over her shoulders. She also has more than two breasts. These can be black, iron, wooden or silver. They are pointed and hard, have glowing iron tips or are fiery. The breasts are filled with tar, poisonous milk or blood.
The Rye Aunt is described as an old womanwith a wrinkled face featuring stinging awns, a crooked nose, and wears glasses. She is sometimes even described as headless or said to have an iron heart.
In addition, she can change her shape, for example into a turtle, a snake, a frog, a wolf, a black cat, a horned animal or a dog with a blanket.
The Rye aunt is often dressed in black, but has also been seen dressed entirely in gray. Her clothes are ragged. Sometimes the Rye Aunt also wears a red skirt, or she wears a red dress and a red cap. Sometimes, she wears blue coat and wide flowing skirts. Often the Rye Aunt wears a white headscarf like a reaper. Sometimes she walks on crutches.
The Rye Aunt is associated with several weather phenomena. When the wind blows through the cornfield, people say that the Rye Aunt moves over the grain. She is also traveling with the whirlwind.
The Rye Aunt appears in particular at midday between 12:00 and 13:00. If she encounters someone in the fields at midday, she kills them or frightens them, casting spells. If she finds women who have recently given birth in bed between 12:00 and 13:00 and between 18:00 and 20:00, she does the field work for them. If she does not find women in childbed at the specified time, a misfortune will happen to the mother and the child.
The Rye Aunt is often seen as a child scare. Her activities as a child-scaring figure are extremely varied.
In their tale no. 90 The Rye Aunt, the Brothers Grimm tell that the Rye Aunt swaps human children with changelings, but brings back the right child if the changeling is not suckled. Elsewhere it is said that she steals illegitimate children at midnight.
The Rye Aunt lies in wait in the field for all those children who want to pick cornflowers in order to scare and punish them. She also lures children into the field by waving her arms. She abducts children by putting them in her big bag or basket, of by taking the children under her wide flowing skirts to bring them to the empire of the roots. She may also pull children to her with an iron fireplace poker and has them guarded by a toad. She leads children astray in the field and lets them starve to death, or she comes with her flock of elves and lays the children on cushions of flowers, whereupon they fall asleep and never wake up again. The Rye Aunt appears as a witch when she casts spells or the Evil Eye on children, She may also appear as a nightmare when she sends evil spirits to disobedient children at night.
Children often have to suck on the breasts of the Rye Aunt. Sometimes, disobedient children get the big breasts beaten around their ears. The Rye Aunt is said to, hug children so tight that they are pressed against her breasts die as a result from suffocation or getting crushed in her embrace. The Rye Aunt also crouches in wolf form, hiding in the grain, and is accompanied by small dogs that lure children into her iron embrace. She is also regarded as the mother of the rye wolves, who eat the children.
The Rye Aunt chases children on horseback or runs as fast as a horse herself. In the latter case, she chases children to death in races. She can also fly and takes children to the sea to drown them there. If she accosts children, they must die.
The Rye Aunt demands that children eat a slice of bread spread with tar. If they do not comply, she cuts off their heads. She also smears children with tar from a bottle or covers their eyes with tar. She also scratches out children's eyes or blows out their eyesight. The Rye Aunt strangles children, twists their necks or cuts off their heads, and also cuts off their necks, noses, ears, or fingers. She also beheads children with a sickle, a knife or a saw. She cuts off the children's legs with a scythe. The Rye Aunt also tears off children's legs.
The Rye Aunt binds children into a bundle with a thread or ties the children to a thread and then beats them up. She pinches children with iron pincers or uses a pinch. She stabs children with pikes, of which she has three, one by the head and one in each hand. The Rye Aunt also stabs children with stalks or drives nails into their heels.
In her hand, the rye maid carries a rod or whip, which is to be regarded as a lightning rod. She also has a sceptre or an iron scourge, which she uses to beat children. She puts children in a nail barrel and rolls them around in it or drags them into a cave and crushes them there with a giant meat grinder. Otherwise, she also crushes children in an iron butter churn.
The Rye Aunt also bites and eats children. To get hold of children, she sets out traps. She slaughters and eats the children or kills and roasts them using her burning breasts and fingers. The Rye Aunt also throws children into a cauldron of hot water or sucks their blood.
All these stories were told children to deter them from wandering through the fields, which posed several dangers, including getting lost and freezing to death at night, encounters with dangerous animals, suffering injuries from farm equipment used on the fields, or merely the destruction of crops and yield loss by walking over the fields.
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Do you know Devilman Crybaby? Can you write the DMC men with a fem reader who’s a demon like Sirene in the show
Sirene: https://pin.it/259GZhAwx
Description: Sirene is often described as one of the most beautiful demons, to the point where she has been mistaken for an Angel more than once. Like the harpies of Greek mythology, Sirene looks like a hybrid between a human and a bird: She has the general appearance of a beautiful young naked woman with penetrating blue eyes, light skin, slender physique and voluptuous breasts. Along with these human traits she has a feathered tail, two antennae on her forehead, bird claws as arms and legs and a large pair of white wings sprouting from her head which allow her to fly. Bird-like plumage grows around her face and over her crotch. Depending on the artwork, her plumage excluding her wings are either white or pink.
She used to be a typical demon, hates human with the entirety of her existence but was once touched by a child who nursed her back to health when she was heavily injured. After the child (who’s now a very old lady) passed away, she sort of starting to see humanity in a different view points
“A bunch of bigoted and egotistical creatures…but nevertheless resilient and indomitable. You have my respect, mortal”
P/S: I can imagine Nero handing reader a jacket as her devil trigger form is quite…revealing
Nero: For the love of god…wear the jacket!!
Reader: Nudity is not just an aesthetic, it’s a lifestyle..I think you should embrace it as well. But it seems that to humans, wearing clothes are an essential…Such a shame…to never know what it feels like roaming the streets naked and free
Nero: Babe…WHAT?!!
Never heard of that, but I can write this. Hope I did well 💜
Sparda boys + V x Sirene-like!Reader headcannons
¤ Dante ¤
-Dante thought you were an angel at first, because of your beauty and your feathers.
-He thought you were hot--really hot--even though you were a demon. It's safe to say the man was enamored by your demonic charms.
-He's glad that you changed your human-hating ways and that you've learned to accept them, since despite his demon side, Dante chooses to identify as one of them.
-The first time he saw your "devil trigger" he nearly had a nosebleed on the spot. Later that night, he insisted you start using it for things other than combat purposes.
-He doesn't want you walking around topless though, sexy as that might be. He insists you wear a bra or some kind of covering, at the very least.
-Collects the feathers that you shed and stuffs them into pillows because they're soft, there's always plenty of them, and it's a great way for his broke ass to save money.
■ Vergil ■
-Vergil shares your haughty and condescending outlook on humanity, seeing them as ridiculous buffoons himself.
-Likes to sit on rooftops with you and judge every individual that walks by, commenting on their attire, speculating their lifestyles based solely on their groceries, and so on.
-Thinks your feathers are very pretty and loves to pet them.
-Has a strong dislike for you walking around nude. It angers him to think that his beloved's privates are being exposed to the world. He doesn't care what your philosophy is, put on a damn shirt and a pair of underwear.
-Will definitely force you to wear give you his coat when you're not listening to him, or when you "forget" to put on your clothes, and makes sure to fasten it tightly so peeping Toms can't see anything.
-How you dress at home is an entirely different story. It makes Vergil feel like a king to have his beautiful beloved sitting naked on his lap while he reads (erotic?) poetry.
□ Nero □
-Nero is extremely embarrassed by you and your weird philosophy regarding nudity.
-He doesn't care if you find walking around an "aesthetic", it's disgusting and it's garnering you all lots of looks of mixed intentions.
-He refuses to go anywhere with you unless you wear his jacket. Your bottom is fine since you have lots of feathers that could pass for a bikini bottom, but you will not be walking around with your boobs hanging out.
-Will force his clothes onto you if you don't listen. Confused civilians might find themselves watching as Nero angrily strips himself down to his undergarments and forces them over your head.
-He's not exactly fond of your previous outlook on humanity, given that he is mostly human himself, but since you've changed and you accept them and all their flaws, he's happy.
-He has kept exactly one of your feathers and keeps it in his wallet, because gross as you might be, he still loves you and wants a piece of you to come with him everywhere he goes.
● V ●
-V was enchanted by your beauty, but found himself blushing at your shameless nudity.
-He likes to collect your feathers and puts them in his scrapbook(s), sometimes stringing them up on necklaces or other accessories.
-He will write poems about your "Devil Trigger", writing about how elegant and beautiful you are, even if you are constantly nude.
-He insists you put on some nice, non revealing clothes when you go out, and in return, you can walk around as nude as you'd like at home.
-Can't stop himself from running his fingers through your feathers when you're sitting together.
-Since he's (kinda) human, he worries whether or not you look down on him like you do on everyone else. You don't, do you?
#Dmc#Dmc5#devil may cry#devil may cry 5#dmc dante#dmc vergil#dmc nero#dmc v#dmc5 dante#dmc5 v#dmc5 vergil#dmc5 nero#devil may cry dante#devil may cry vergil#devil may cry nero#devil may cry v#devil may cry 5 dante#devil may cry 5 vergil#devil may cry 5 nero#devil may cry 5 v#dante x reader#dmc dante x reader#dmc nero x reader#dmc5 nero x reader#dmc vergil x reader#dmc5 v x reader#dmc5 vergil x reader#dmc v x reader#dmc x reader headcannons#dmc x reader
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this might be a silly question, but do we know what sascha's zulo form looks like? and if we dont, do you have any head cannons?
The 'canon' answer is that all Zulo forms are completely identical and Sascha's is no different, as described in the original Players' Guide to the Sabbat:
"This power enables the vampire to assume the form of a real monster. In one turn, the vampire's entire body transforms into a seven to eight-foot-tall creature with grotesque features. The vampire has clawlike, seven-fingered hands, a row of bony spines protruding from her vertebrae, a horribly deformed head, huge muscles and thick blackish -gray skin covered with a slick, black, oily residue. Oddly enough, all vampires using this power take this form, though each has slight variations."
Still held true as late as the V20 corebook, although it no longer emphasises that they're all identical. More specifically, so does the Revised corebook! The Clan Novel Saga, specifically the individual story written by Lucien Soulban, is Revised-era, and is the only story where we get a specific description of Sascha's Zulo form:
This is one of the very few things V5 actually did right for the Tzimisce, in that Zulo form is no longer identical to everyone:
"With a mastery of the body so complete that it surpasses natural limitations, the vampire can take on a truly monstrous form, complete with vicious claws, protruding fangs, ridged features, and corded muscles. Although its exact traits can vary between occasions, the form often has an individual, specific appearance that manifests every time this power is used, a vision of the user’s Beast made flesh. Some look like hellishly malformed animals, some look demonic or atavistic, and some defy any sense of worldly familiarity. Many incorporate the traits of other vampires in nature, such as leeches, bats, ticks, and mosquitoes, magnified to grotesque proportions."
The fact that it's an amalgam between Protean 4 and Dominate 2 is still a stupid-ass decision. Ha ha yeah you can change yourself because you're ~dominating your body~ oh get fucked. If you had to make Vicissitude an amalgam, at least make it something that makes sense, like Auspex! Also it now costs drastically higher, it had always been Vicissitude 4 and now you need two extra levels? Man c'mon.
Anyway.
A lot of fandom has embraced that, or, potentially, the V5 Companion writers looked at how basically every Tzimisce fan went "yeah no fuck that" and designed their own Zulo form. There are some amazingly, wonderfully creative designs out there, and I firmly believe that in a clan like the Tzimisce, Zulo forms would be individualistic and incredible to see. And Sascha has Vicissitude 7 and Style 6, as if they're going to be constrained to some basic-ass variation everyone has ;)
For my own interpretation, I hc that they have wings with razor-sharp black feathers made of chitin, to really tie into that Angel of Caine imagery. They're not quite designed to fly with, they don't use Chiropteran Marauder form, but they can glide a bit and, more importantly, intimidate ;D I see the main body of their Zulo form as catlike, like this sleek black panther, with razor-sharp claws, spikes down the length of their spine, and a sword-like blade on the end of their tail, and alarmingly intelligent and human-like eyes that look really disconcerting in a panther-like face.
But that's just 'my' Sascha - there are probably a ton of incredible designs out there!
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Hello!
I read Angel on the Roof and that was AMAZING. I was feeling like that way and honestly that was exactly what I needed to read. Thank you for writing!
I have a request! Maybe alternate ending + sequel of the fic if you are interested/have time, where Matt did notice it and in this universe it’s going to be more comforting. OR maybe whole new story where reader is having mental illness, angst but comfort in the end?
Again I LOVE your writing can’t wait for another Matt fics!!! Thank youuuu !!!
Okay, nonnie, first of all, I hope you're doing okay! I hope you're feeling better, too. I know how hard it can be to feel this way and I wrote that fic when I was at one of the lowest points in my life. I'm glad you liked it, but I also hope you're taking good care of yourself! I love you. Now to your request, I re-read Angel On The Roof and I remembered why it was so sad, and I'm so glad you requested a comfort version. I decided to do it from Reader's POV since the original was Matt's POV and I've changed the ending, so it's still the same foundation, but you've also got a whole new fic. I hope you like the way I did it!
Angel On The Roof (Your Version)
Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (she/her)
Summary: What if Matt saved you from your own demons instead of being too late?
Warnings: TW: SELF-HARM, graphic descriptions of self-harm, blood, scars, ANGST, mental illness, suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, happy ending, fix it fic for a fic
Word Count: 3k
A/n: So you can read "Angel On The Roof" here. Like I said before, this is the mentioned fic from your POV but with a twist so that it ends without Reader committing suicide. If the above-mentioned topics trigger you, please don't read! Not tagging because this is a sensitive subject and I go really into detail.
18+ THIS IS HEAVY STUFF!
Mental illness speaks in silence.
Unlike a broken leg, you can’t see a sickness of the mind. There is no physical proof for the scary truth that something is going not quite right inside of your brain. And because people can’t see it, they have a hard time believing the truth. They have a hard time believing that being sick in the head could even affect you this much, so they try to sell your pain as worth less than it is. How could thoughts possibly turn paralyzing? How could someone’s mind make them feel worthless to the point the affected person sees no other way out but to inflict pain onto themselves? Attention whores, it’s what those people like to call the struggling ones. Lazy, weak, selfish… every mentally ill person has heard one of those words being used to describe them one way or another.
Mental illness speaks in silence because if we spoke louder, people would only sneer and turn their backs on us. Mental illness speaks in silence because suffering alone seems better than burdening someone else. And mental illness speaks in silence because those who are mentally ill live in a different world. Their heads work differently. Mental illness speaks in silence because pain paralyzes, and silent acts are the only way someone so stuck in the claws of the faceless monster knows how to ask for help. By the time people consider questioning certain behavior though, it is often too late, and the person soon enough feels as if they’re being a burden once more because the judging looks are worse than admitting you need help in the first place.
The monster that is mental illness is cruel and it has no regard for you or the people around you. It has set out to destroy you, and you feel helpless as it tears a knife through your soul and picks your heart apart piece by piece. And those who say, ‘Just ask for help’ or ‘Don’t be scared to speak up’ clearly don’t know how hard it can be to break out of such a circle once you’re already active in it.
Self-harm is considered a serious addiction on the roster, but most people see it merely as a symptom of many personality disorders or mood disorders. Those who seemingly know nothing about mental illness even like to call it a call for attention. As if self-mutilation would ever be a conscious choice made by anyone. You try to fight a pain that no one can see and only you can feel, and sometimes, when you feel so much - too much - it gets deafening and you need another pain to balance it out.
Drugs aren’t the only thing hurting you that can result in addiction. There is a long list of things that harm the mind and body, and that is often used as a coping mechanism for the terrible things most people are forced to feel inside.
You don’t remember when it started. You only remember that you were merely a child when you first started feeling this way. Helpless, alone, and with a pain deep inside of your chest that had claws and sharp teeth, ready to eat you whole. The monster ate away at you for years, but you ignored it.
People told you it was just hormones, that this was part of growing up. Meanwhile, you only got sicker. Your mind turned against you. You became your own worst bully, and the voices in your head started taking you apart one by one.
You reached a point where you loathed yourself so much, all you wanted was to scratch your eyes out and tear your skin off. You hated looking in the mirror and seeing the same miserable face every day. You hated being the friend that was the least fun and being stuck inside with this hurt consuming you. It made it harder to breathe, it made your heart stop in your chest, and yet you never physically died. Inside, you were long gone, but you ignored it because no one seemed to care.
You tried drugs and alcohol, but that wasn’t enough to kill your pain, and you never fully managed to end it all. Your existence became a nuisance.
You never believed in God. The constant self-pity, shame, guilt, and blame became your best friends. In your mind, you fucked up your own life. Your mind was fucked up, so you were automatically at fault. You ended up being in so much blood-boiling pain, you tried to find a way to inflict pain in other ways to distract you from the numbness that burned your insides like acid would burn the cells of your skin in an instant, and the toxic waste ended up in your bloodstream, then your mind and in the end, it poisoned your heart and your soul.
You truly believed you were rotten inside, and there was nothing that seemed to help.
You turned to cutting, the blood running from your wrists a testament to your pain, and it made breathing so much easier for just a moment. The razor blades were the brush with which you painted the tiles of your bathroom floor red almost every night. You weren’t proud of it, but you had no one to listen, no one to help you and you just felt so fucking numb– You had to find something to relieve you of this pain for a simple moment, and a moment was all it took to get you hooked on the feeling. It was a different kind of pain, and your wrists looked mutilated, even long after you were done, but whenever you brushed over the scars, you felt the need to do it again, and so you did.
One summer night, you found your way to one of the rooftops in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t want to jump, but having the choice to do so filled your body with a certain sense of relief. If you had jumped, you would have died. You could have broken your neck and ended it all. You would have died on your way down already, probably, or maybe you would have passed out.
The world seemed so small from up there, but you were still alone.
That night, you felt his presence for the first time. He wore a black mask; you had seen him on the news a while back, but word on the streets had it that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen disappeared. After Wilson Fisk got imprisoned, he must have found his way back.
“I don’t want to jump,” you assured him. “I just want to feel.” It wasn’t a lie. Your heart beat slow and steady in your chest and against your ribcage. The wind in your hair cooled the sheen of sweat from the early summer heat.
He didn’t talk, he simply stood by your side. You were too tired to ask him why. When you sat down, he followed shoulder to shoulder, together. Your tears had dried on your cheeks and you watched the clouds pass by, hide and reveal new stars, and you pointed out the constellations in your head. He wouldn’t let you fall, it seemed, and so you simply stayed there. It was the first time someone seemed to care without trying to fix you.
You were okay.
He walked you home before sunrise and asked you again, “Are you gonna be okay?”
“Yes,” you answered. In the moment, you usually were.
You smiled and thanked him, and he told you, “If you ever need to talk, well… you know I’ll find you if you call for me.”
One day, after finding you on the roof again (at this point, you weren’t sure why you were doing it anymore), it started to rain. He offered to walk you home and asked you if you were okay again. You offered him to stay.
“Who hurt you?” he asked you once you bid him inside.
You brewed some tea, offering him a mug. He took it. You shrugged as an answer to his question. The numbness settled back in. You had no tears left to shed. Did he care? You weren’t sure. People often liked to ask for no reason whatsoever, and you knew if you told them, they would have called you crazy.
“I hurt myself,” you said.
He caught your wrist when you tried to walk away. His fingers dug into the fresh scars without trying to, but it hurt and it functioned as a cruel reminder of what your arms looked like. Of what you did. Instead of numbness, what you felt was guilt, and when his mouth contorted, you knew he realized something wasn’t right.
You were so stupid, you thought and pulled away from him. How could anyone ever care or love a broken mess of nothingness like you? You weren’t worthy of anyone’s affection. This – the scars on your wrists and the hole in your chest – was what you deserved.
He didn’t run though. The stranger tilted his head as if to understand you.
“Why?” he asked.
It made you think. Why, exactly, were you doing this?
“Because I need to feel something other than this pain that is numbing me,” you admitted.
You were so honest with him that night, and it seemed to surprise him, but he also listened to every last word coming out of your mouth.
He let go of your wrist then and said, “Have you ever asked someone for help?”
“Why would I?” you asked.
“Because there are people who can help when you’re hurting.”
Fixing you, that was what he meant. There were people who could fix you, but you didn’t want to be fixed. You couldn’t be fixed. Everyone always tried to fix you and you were so sick and tired of being the one everyone deemed broken all the time.
“Perhaps you should go,” you said and opened the door for him. You had to end it there.
One night, you cut too deep, and the world caved in on you. You had no choice but to endure it, but you broke under the weight like a fragile vase. You cut too deep, and the blood mingled on the floor with your tears. It hurt – the cuts weren’t the worst part because they only thudded numbly in sync with your pulse; the worst part was the bomb in your chest exploding and sending all these feelings hurdling around.
God, you hated yourself.
You always kept your windows unlocked. What you didn’t expect was for him to climb through your window. Only when he kicked the door down did you look up, your face stained with tears. He tilted his head, seemingly smelling the air, before he knelt beside you and wrapped towels around your bleeding wrists. The essence of your heart was on the floor now, the vase broken, and he cleaned it up without hesitation.
You didn’t deserve such gentle treatment.
You sobbed into his strong arms until there was nothing left to give. Instead of leaving though, he stayed. He took you to bed and bandaged your wrists, still keeping the black mask right where it was. It was you curious, and you hadn’t felt curious in quite a while.
He stopped the bleeding without problems, and then he lay beside you as you regained some sense of self.
“Why do you keep doing it?” he asked eventually. His finger ran over the bandage he had applied earlier. “Why do you keep hurting yourself?”
You shivered. “It wouldn’t make sense even if I told you,” you said.
Because even to you, it didn’t make sense.
“Try me.”
“No, you wouldn’t understand. You barely even know me and I don’t know you. Why do you keep doing this, D?”
“Matthew,” he told her. “That is my name.”
It was the first display of trust he showed you, and you were a little taken aback.
Your lips parted and you whispered your name into the darkness. He smiled softly, taking your weak hand into his.
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
You stared at him for a while before asking something that almost came naturally. “Can you stay?” your voice was barely above a whisper.
He battled with himself before giving in, agreeing to stay, and you felt something in your heart turn around. A candle was lit. Was that the scent of hope you could smell? You weren’t sure, but the fact he held your hand as you tried to find your way into a restless sleep and never once waivered with his support filled you with a sense of safety, and finally, for once in your life, the voices went quiet. You focused on his heartbeat and breathing, and you finally felt less alone.
The next morning, your window was closed again and he was gone, probably disappearing in the middle of the night. You found a note on the dining table, poorly scribbled, but you could decipher what he wrote.
It’s because I care about you, Angel.
He cared. About you. You broke down crying, not used to this much affection, but it was also then you realized that it was what you desperately needed.
You looked at your bandaged wrist, then your reflection in the metallic shimmer of your fridge, and you made a decision you should have made from the beginning.
You waited on the rooftop again that night, this time the one of your apartment complex. He appeared not long after you whispered his name into the humid night air. Cars passed by and the city grew louder by the minute, but he still came.
He wore his mask again.
“Will I ever see your face?” you wondered aloud.
He chuckled. “It wouldn’t be a good idea.”
The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen knowingly never did home visits.
“Can you see mine?” you asked.
“No,” he said. “I can’t see yours.”
Your breath shuddered.
“What’s wrong?”
“You changed something in me last night.”
Matthew seemed to pipe up at your admission, and he took a step closer. “Oh yeah?” he asked.
“Yes,” you breathed.
“What did I change?”
“You saved my life.”
“I only came because you needed someone.”
You asked, “Is that why you always come to these rooftops?”
He shrugged. “You call, I come,” Matthew said. “That’s all there is to it.”
But it wasn’t all.
With a weak sniffle, you closed the distance between you and fell into his arms. He caught you, holding you close to him. His heart thudded in your ear like the night before, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Years of pain, sadness, and anger fell off your shoulders, leaving you even more broken than before, but for the first time, you felt it all. And you knew you couldn’t live like this any longer.
“I need–” you choked on a sob. It burned in your lungs.
His grip tightened. “What do you need, Angel?”
“I need help,” it was the first time you said it, but the moment the words left your mouth, Matthew vowed to stay by your side.
That night, he took his mask off for the first time after taking you home. You saw his face, and you felt a sense of relief. He was beautiful, inside and out, but he was also incredibly human. His blind eyes were unfocused, but you only touched his cheek with tender fingers. You owed him your life, and you made sure to show him that.
“Matt Murdock,” he introduced himself.
You gave him the courtesy of doing the same.
He smiled, and you saw something in his eyes that would end up changing your entire life.
Love.
That cruel time of finding back to yourself after years of self-harm and depression is in the past, it has been for a while now.
The sun stands high in the sky above New York. A long time ago, summer filled you with dread. As you’re staring out through the windows of your home now, all you can think about is how beautiful the world is. The city stands tall in the distance, and you find yourself smiling into your cup of chamomile tea.
The light reflects off the golden wedding band on your ring finger. Your name stands in Braille letters next to his with a heart of diamonds. It’s unique, special, just like your love story.
When you first met him, you never thought you would end up here, but he woke you up from your coma and you found your way back to the light. He helped you, he supported you and he made sure you would always have someone to turn to.
Years later now, you’re wearing his name and ring on your finger, and you have a home that truly feels like one because he is in it with you. He is your home, your haven, your sanctuary, and you owe him more than he will ever know.
A pair of arms snakes around your waist and pull you back into a sturdy chest. You smile even more. “Hi,” you whisper.
Matt presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Hi,” he says.
“The sun is out.”
“I know, I can feel it.”
“Right. Even after all these years, I still tend to forget I’m married to a superhero,” you say, albeit teasing, but your words also hold a mountain of truth.
He chuckles. “You’re forgiven, Mrs. Murdock.”
“Oh, I’m glad.”
Matt’s hold on you tightens. Now that he has you, he refuses to let you go. “What were you thinking about just then?” he asks.
You lick your lips, closing your eyes as your body melts into his almost naturally. “You and me,” you say, “and how far we’ve come.”
“Mhm.”
“And that I can’t wait to start a family with you one day and give our children the support I’ve never had.”
He tears up a little at that, you can hear it in his voice when he whispers, “I love you,” and he turns you around to capture your lips in a loving kiss.
You realize it then for the millionth time since that night you first ran into the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen on the roof; Getting help was the best choice of your life, and no scar on his or your body matter now that you’ve got each other.
You belong in each other’s arms, today, tomorrow, and forever and always. Just like you said in your vows – there is nothing you can’t overcome, as long as you’re doing it together.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock#matt murdock angst#matt murdock x you#daredevil#daredevil x reader#female reader#hurt/comfort#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock imagines#reader insert#x reader#charlie cox#lizzi writes#request#requests are CLOSED
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