#drag me to hell fic

[kiame-sama]

Drag Me to Hell- (Yandere!Alastor x Chubby!Reader) 3.5

Warnings; Mention of suicide, Alastor has questions, talk of sexuality, fem pronouned reader, more rules of the deal,

(thought about making it NSFW, but didn't know if anyone would feel so inclined to read it or not)

~~~~~~~~

You were in the room you and Alastor shared in the Hazbin Hotel. He was seated by his dinner- a rotting deer carcass- and enjoying his feast before the battle sure to come from heaven and the exorcists in what seemed like only hours from then. Your joint visit back to cannibal Town and to Rosie with Charlie was a fruitful one and you did always like seeing Rosie.

"So, my Darling, you seemed amused by Rosie's comment earlier to me and even agreed with her on it. This means you understand it and would certainly not mind explaining it to me, right?"

Alastor loved to phrase his orders like questions as if you ever had the choice to not answer him truthfully. Due to your deal you couldn't lie to Alastor without him knowing, so the few times you chose to bend the truth had to be well worded and done with great mental effort. This wasn't worth that mental effort.

"Miss Rosie called you an 'Ace in the hole' meaning she believes you are asexual."

"I have a sex, Doe. I am male."

"Not your physical sex, it means you don't experience sexual attraction. You're not driven by carnal desire like others are. You don't feel that libido driven need based on appearance or outward characteristics. Pretty sure it means you don't have much of a libido at all."

"Well, I am not greatly interested in the pleasures of the flesh, that is true. But asexual appears to be in reference to one being without sex, I believe my experimentation earlier with you is a testament against that notion."

You felt the vague desire to chuckle, knowing Alastor was rather forward when it came to you so long as the two of you were behind closed doors.

"Just because you have had sex doesn't mean you aren't asexual, Alastor. Plenty of people who are ace have sex and are still ace, they just don't experience the drive to keep having sex or the libido others experience regardless of if they choose to do it again or not."

"Hm. So what is your sexuality then, my Dear?"

You paused for a moment, looking over at him from where you sat on your shared bed. It was true that Alastor had approached you regarding sex before, but every time he was driven by curiosity and not by genuine sexual desire. He was a curious sort and thus he sought to answer the questions he had however he felt comfortable doing. Part of you was sure he was aromantic as well and he only had whatever it was with you because of his desire to act how he thought he should act.

"I... Don't know, actually. You know that I died by... by my own hand. I never really got around to figuring that out."

"What would your interactions with me make you?"

"Straight. Or, wait, actually I think it makes me Demi."

"Demi?"

"Demisexual. Not really based on the male female binary but more like someone who is ace but begins feeling that sexual attraction after connecting with that other person on a mental and emotional level first. Not a primary sexual attraction based on appearance or observable characteristics, but one based off of emotional and mental connection."

"And I will be your only, understood?"

"I know, Alastor. We still have our deal and I don't intend to try to break it any time soon. Besides, what's a good radio host supposed to do without his microphone?"

[kiamescribbles]

Alastor creating his deal with his doe. My OC in place of his doe (so the deer qualities, the halo still on her head but held up by her horns, the heavenly wings on her belt)

[sidesteppostinghours]

ok. question.

ortega ended up hallucinating sidestep after they "died", but sidestep doesnt know about that. they know it got bad, but never the full extent of how their death affected them. so if your sidestep Did learn, if they found out ortega looked for them in every little piece they could, would that change anything for your sidesteps? would their relationship with ortega be any different?

[chernabogs]

Fractal

Inc: Malleus, Prefect. WC: 2k Warnings: Dream horror, consumption of rotten fruit, everything seems happy but there's an underlying layer of 'somethings rotten in denmark (briar valley)' Excerpt: “Nothing.” You reply steadily. “I just haven’t been here before.”  Liar. Malleus remains still for a moment before he laughs, and you hate how warm the sound is as the sun comes out once more. “Well of course you have not been here. That is why I chose this place—I wanted to show my friends my home.” 

It’s you who causes the cataclysm this time. 

He’s in a field that’s warm, and for once the sun—which beats down on him from a baby blue sky—does not give him a migraine, nor does it make his skin itch with the ghostly sensation of hives. He’s sitting at the end of a long dining table with a white tablecloth concealing its mahogany structure. It’s adorned with an array of foods; fruits, vegetables, meats—a cornucopia of delights to dig one's fingers into. It’s what he anticipates happening upon the arrival of his guests, who will fill the twenty-two empty wooden chairs that are present. 

His gaze remains focused on the far end of the field, where a gap in the trees that create a barrier around where he sits is present. He remains still, motionless, as though he’s a wind up doll waiting for someone to turn his key. The sounds of cicadas screaming from the distant pines and the warm wind that brushes across his pale skin do little to stir him out of this strange state. He hardly even blinks. He merely sits and waits.

Until you appear at that gap. 

Then, like that key turning, everything comes to life. He takes a breath in and sits up, a smile curling on his thin lips as his hands come to rest on that pristine, white tablecloth. He remains still as he watches you approach. Your steps are shaky, and you seem tired as you take your time to reach where he sits, as though every step is a labour for you to complete. When you finally reach the other end of the table, you draw to a stop, your gaze transfixed on the feast before you. Perhaps you are looking at the meat, or perhaps you are looking at the flies that are beginning to garnish its surface. 

“You got my invitation.” Malleus’ voice is warm, as though he’s attempting to project a certain image of himself to you. You glance towards where he sits. He looks composed, regal, in the plain wooden chair with the sun creating a halo behind his head. He gazes back at you, and it feels like those green eyes are slowly peeling away each layer of flesh, parting each tendon and muscle, until he can see the white of your bone beneath. You swallow.

“I did.” Your voice is quiet as you resist the urge to look back at the gap in the trees. Three more pairs of eyes watch you from within the shadows as you try to walk your way through these steps. You’ve done this before. Many times before. “It was kind of you to invite me.” 

His smile remains as he doesn’t reply for a moment before gesturing to the seat—the one next to him. “Sit, Prefect. You look tired.”

You move slowly around the table until you reach the seat to which he is gesturing. When you pull it out, it rips up the earth beneath it, causing the scent of dirt to mix with that of decay. He pushes a glass filled with a clear liquid towards you and you dutifully take it, although you refrain from raising it to your lips. He drinks unashamedly and without care. 

“Am I early?” You ask, selecting each piece of dialogue in your mind with caution. You watch as he finishes drinking, setting the empty glass down as he does. His lips are stained slightly red from the action and his tongue darts out to clean them, slowly running along the bottom one as his gaze goes back your way.

“Yes, but that is of little concern. I have no objections to being in your company a moment longer,” he muses, sharp white teeth flashing as he observes you with amusement. “The others should be arriving soon.” 

Malleus looks back to the gap in the trees as you study his profile. The skin beneath his eyes looks slightly bruised up and along his cheekbones—the area where his overblot patterning is. His hair is brushed back from his forehead, revealing the scales beneath, and his expression is fixed into one of childish excitement. He wears white, but the edges of his sleeves are stained. “They all received an invitation. I made sure of it. I am not apt to forget my friends, unlike some.” 

“Perhaps they got lost.” You murmur, looking at that gap in the trees yourself as you do. You can see movement within the shadows as you continue to buy your time. The scent of decay grows until you’re eventually forced to look back to the feast. Wrinkled fruit, greenish meat, drooping herbs, and liquidated vegetables; the sight makes your stomach curl as you keep speaking. “After all, this place is unusual.” 

“Unusual?” Malleus’ head turns to look back at you, his eyes still too wide, his expression too exuberant. “What is so unusual about it, Prefect?” 

You feel your breath catch in your chest as you stare back. The movements by the gap have stopped as well, as though the entire scene has been paused with your single comment. You can hear the rustle of that warm wind through the corn field behind you, and the sun is soon covered by a passing cloud. You clench your hands in your lap.

“Nothing.” You reply steadily. “I just haven’t been here before.” 

Liar.

Malleus remains still for a moment before he laughs, and you hate how warm the sound is as the sun comes out once more. “Well of course you have not been here. That is why I chose this place—I wanted to show my friends my home.” 

The tension dissipates at that moment as Malleus picks up a few figs from the table. He sets them on his plate and presses a fork into one. You try to ignore how squishy it is, or the green that oozes from its inside. “Wouldn’t it have been better if we had dinner at your palace?” 

He doesn’t reply as he spears one piece of rotten fig with his fork, turning it over slowly before holding it out to you. His smile still doesn’t dissipate. “No. I do not think it would have been. I want my friends to feel connected to one another. I want them to feel like a family.”

You glance at the fig piece. It sags on the metal prongs, making your stomach twist in disgust. There’s expectation in Malleus’ eyes that conceal a glint of something else—a test. So far you have been selecting the right reactions, but it isn’t sufficient. 

You lean forward, keeping your gaze locked on his as you take the fig piece in your mouth. You’re trying hard not to gag as you chew slowly before forcing it down your throat. There’s a lingering after-taste of rot present and you finally grab at the water glass.

He chuckles and leans back before picking up another piece for himself. “I admit, it’s a bit sour, but tolerable all the same.” 

Sour? It’s rotten, but you refrain from saying this aloud as you drink. You said it aloud before, and the results went as poor as they could go. There’s only so many times you and the others can formulate a plan before it becomes apparent that it’s all for naught. Eventually you set your glass down with a grimace and watch as it immediately refills itself. It’s magic, obviously—Malleus has been throwing his magic around unashamedly and without care. The soil nurtures him, the sun gives him life, the winds carry his words. He is both the creation and the creator of the feast you sit at. The executioner, and perhaps the sacrifice as well.

Or maybe that role is solely for you. After all, you are the one he is feeding right now. 

You tilt your wrist slightly to catch a glance at the watch you wear around it. Phones and technology are pointless here—not that you have your phone anyway—so Lilia gave you this as a manual means. The hands are not moving, and instead remain fixed at five to five. You are still in a dream. 

“Are you impatient?” His voice causes you to drop your wrist quickly and look his way. It’s hard to mask the surprise on your face. In fact, it’s quite pointless. That razor sharp gaze that peeled away your skin when you first approached now cuts incisions into your skull as he tilts his head, studying you. “They have five minutes.”

Five minutes will never come. You’re not sure if Malleus even knows this. It’s as though he’s settled himself so deeply into this dream he’s created—a tick, gorging itself on the magic of its own making, unaware of how its body swells and strains until the point that it bursts from over-consumption. He’s becoming inflated with his power. It’s how his overblot has not ended, despite the way he hides it with glamour. 

“Are you sure you invited them?” You ask cautiously again, testing the waters. You see a twitch in his smile—the corner of his thin lip wavering slightly. His eyes remain wide. 

“Yes. I wrote the invites myself. Everyone got one—Lilia, Silver, Sebek, you. Those of Heartslabyul, of Savanaclaw, of Octavinelle, of all the rest. I considered those from RSA, but I would rather keep the peace for this event.” His hold tightens around the fork. You can see the threads fraying. You push. 

“Are you sure the invites were received? Did anyone tell you they would come?” You murmur, leaning a bit closer. You hate doing this—this is someone you consider your friend, perhaps more in another life, and you are not an orchestrator of someone's mental fracture. The cicada’s stop screaming. Another cloud passes over the sun. 

“You never RSVP.” He replies, his voice now more monotone and colder. His smile remains but his eyes have slid back to the emptiness you’ve been seeing since his overblot began. He looks to you once more, and you scramble to see some remnant of the peculiar prince you’ve come to know in those eyes. “And yet you came.”

“I’ll always come,” you reply quietly, the scent of rot growing stronger with each word. You see movement in your peripheral vision again. The sky darkens further, and the wind begins to grow cold. “Whether you mean it or not, I’ll always come. But I cannot say the same for everyone else. Sometimes people don’t arrive, or they leave without goodbyes. Sometimes—”

His expression twists. It’s like a child hearing something they don’t want to hear, or when they’re denied a toy they want so badly to be theirs. His body stiffens and his upper lip curls. “Stop it, Prefect.” 

His voice is low, dangerous. You’re pushing it again, just like all the other times so far. You see another figure approaching the table. Someone with silver hair, someone who looks as though they’ve aged many years in mere moments. They hold a weapon at their side. Your own hand darts out and grabs Malleus’ arm. Despite the demeanour, despite the rage, his arm is solid and warm beneath your grip. 

“Malleus,” you begin, desperation starting to lace in your voice. You see a flash of green and hear the clattering of something hitting the table, and then he jerks his arm away. You feel the crushing sense of overwhelming power before with a snap of his fingers he’s in a field that’s warm, and for once the sun—which beats down on him from a baby blue sky—does not give him a migraine, nor does it make his skin itch with the ghostly sensation of hives. He’s sitting at the end of a long dining table with a white tablecloth concealing its mahogany structure. It’s adorned with an array of foods; fruits, vegetables, meats; a cornucopia of delights to dig one's fingers into. 

It’s what he anticipates happening upon the arrival of his guests, who will fill the twenty-two empty wooden chairs that are present.

[scribbling-dragon]

a little extract from my current ranchers wip. as a treat <3

Tango waves after him like an idiot for several seconds, before realising that Jimmy’s no longer looking in his direction, and he’s just waving at Jimmy’s back. He drops his hand. And then drops his face into his hands, groaning a little in despair.

He looks up, over his momentary embarrassment, just in time to see Jimmy twist and wave back at him, still smiling sunnily. Geez, he could almost outcompete the sun with a grin like that. He then gets front-row seats to watch as Jimmy trips over a root and falls the rest of the way down the hill.

my most beloved idiots <33

[gintrinsic-writing]

Staying in a family member’s guest room…

Directly across from the bed, there’s an open closet doorway, an open bathroom doorway, and a massive, decorative mirror propped up between the two doorways. Directly to the left is an equally massive tv facing the bed which also reflects the room. White walls. No fan, soundless.

I’m gonna be sleep paralysis’d to death.

[h-didanart]

Ok so I’m rereading one of my favorite fics ever and

And I realized that like

I

Accidentally stole more stuff than I thought I did

And now I feel bad

Yeah, the ‘two cakes’ thing applies and all, but I still kinda feel bad about it :(

I mean, the concept itself, Bloodmoon getting torture trauma, doesn’t seem to be too odd to find across the archives, but holy hell our executions are damn near identical

Anyways—

Go read ‘What you feel and what you do Are those things really you?’ By Red_Ferret on AO3

Now

Go

Right now

Do it

[forest-hashira]

2.2k into ch3 of Noble Blood and i thought i knew where i was going/how this was going to end but. i do not.

[navree]

You briefly talked about this one time - what are your thoughts on Maegor and Aenys? Do you think Maegor actually cared about his brother? You would think that that care would carry down to his neices and nephews but once Aenys was dead, he was wiping them all out. What made Aenys different that Maegor actually accepted him instead of trying to immediately remove him from the throne like Visenya wanted him too?

My thoughts on Maegor and Aenys can honestly be boiled down to a crowd in the Coliseum of my mind chanting "sons of the dragon! sons of the dragon! sons of the dragon!" on repeat but I will endeavor to go into more depth.

I actually have gone more in depth on Maegor and Aenys's relationship here and elaborated far more on it here, but my view on them is that it's the quintessential tragedy, it was doomed to fail. Maegor and Aenys's relationship was always going to be tainted by forces outside their control, even from before they were born. Aenys was the son of the favored wife while Maegor was the son of the one Aegon couldn't even stand by the time he was born; Aenys's mental breakdown was always going to stunt his interpersonal relationships other than the one with his father and the one with Quicksilver as he recovered; five years isn't an insurmountable age difference but it's significant in that early childhood development phase. All of this, the circumstances under which Maegor was born and the relationships their parents had with each other and the conflagration of situations that was the First Dornish War and how it affected the family, all of it basically doomed the relationship from the getgo. My view of it was that they were never going to be truly brotherly, not in the way that we see from the modern Starks or Orys and Aegon. But, as I mentioned in those prior responses, I don't think it was all bad. Aenys put a lot of trust and value in Maegor, and Maegor seemed to respect that and respected Aenys's kingship and wanted it to go well. I also find it incredibly important that Maegor accepted his banishment, because we know what happens when Quicksilver and Balerion go head to head. He would have made easy work of his brother and he probably knew that, but instead he accepted Aenys's word as law, left and stayed away until he was recalled by his mother only after Aenys died. That, to me, does speak to the fact that Maegor cared about him. Some of it might be transference, with Aenys as Aegon's clear favorite and Aegon having gone without giving Maegor any of what he might have craved from him (the throne, his approval, his affection, I theorized a lot more on Aegon and Maegor's fractured relationship in that first ask about humanizing him) Maegor might have turned to his older brother in hopes of getting some taste of what he wanted from his father with the only version of his father he has. It's also possible that, once Maegor was a bit older, three to four, Aenys had recovered enough from his ordeals to try and interact with him and be a good brother, in spite of not being raised in the same location. Aenys seems like the type to have wanted to try and do right by his kid brother, if the olive branches he extended to Maegor during his reign when they were both adults is any indication. So even if they weren't close in childhood, Maegor's memories of Aenys when he was a child might have been of someone earnestly trying with him, trying to be good and supportive to someone who doesn't seem to have had much of a support system in the family beyond his mother.

And it should be interesting to note, Maegor does seem to have extended some care towards his nieces and nephews initially. While he did usurp Aegon the Uncrowned, he didn't immediately go after him, he actually let him live unmolested for up to a year, considering that he took the throne in 42 AC and the Battle Beneath God's Eye occured in 43 AC. It was Aegon attempting to muster armies and take back his crown that led to his death, not Maegor taking the throne, for all we know, though it's unlikely, if Aegon had gone into exile the way that Maegor himself had, he might never have died. And while Alyssa and Viserys and Jaehaerys and Alysanne were absolutely hostages, there's no record that they were ever treated badly, not even Viserys who was residing in King's Landing. While I'm sure being a political hostage with the uncle who killed your brother and was slowly becoming more and more mentally unhinged wasn't a picnic, there's no evidence that Maegor ever did anything to Viserys or had anything done to him, and that Viserys didn't live any life other than a comfortable one as a blood relative to the crown. And by the time Visenya died and Alyssa fled with Jaehaerys and Alysanne, Maegor's mental state was already dangerous (this was post coma/Tyana magic interference that may or may not have helped exacerbate him into a crazy person) and that's probably why he responded as badly as he did and had the poor kid tortured to death. Maegor's cruelty to his family can be directly linked to how badly he was doing from a mental perspective, so it's entirely possible that he started out without any intentions to hurt Aenys's kids, because they were Aenys's kids, but as he descended into tyranny and madness, that was one of the core elements of him that was stripped away until only The Cruel remained.

I think a huge part of what made Aenys different, to Maegor at least, really is just that familial connection. Visenya didn't have any connection to Aenys beyond the fact that he was Rhaenys and Aegon's child, and that doesn't do much for her (even though I do think she loved them both, especially Rhaenys, it's just that the whole Dornish War thing and the rift probably turned any potential affection for her nephew into pure apathy. Not to get into Visenya conjectures and whatnot, but that Downton Abbey quote after Matthew dies where Mary says "with Matthew's death, all the softness he found in me seems to have dried up" is soooooo Visenya/Rhaenys coded, that's exactly how I imagined Visenya eventually went after Hellholt. Leave me here to die.) so she was more willing to be harsh and critical of him, especially when compared to the child of her own body and her own direct lineage. But for Maegor, that's his brother. A connection to his father, and someone he had a relationship with in his own right. He seems to have cared enough about that, perhaps even loved Aenys enough, that it really meant something to him, and that he didn't want to directly steal his own brother's birthright in spite of how bad he felt Aenys was at it or not. He could have felt grateful, moved even, by the trust Aenys was putting in him as a brother by giving him Blackfyre and making him Hand and trusting him to secure his reign, and wanted to live up to that trust, prove worthy of it. Their relationship wasn't ever fully reconcilable, in my mind, due to the circumstances it came about it that were entirely out of their control, but it feels like they really tried, on both sides, to bridge that gap as much as they were emotionally able.

TL;DR I think that it was doomed from minute one, but neither of them entirely let it just go into that good night and they probably did have best intentions with each other, even Maegor, considering that he accepted Aenys's rule and helped him and he does seem to have tried to be good to Aenys's kids before he went completely doolally. Probably best summed up as "there was some kind of love there, but love isn't always enough".

[undergoing-mitosis]

me: i need to heal the jjk-sized trauma shaped hole in my heart. hmmm how to do this

also me: starts watching chainsaw man, then skips to the omori truth of an omori playthrough.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME

[kiame-sama]

Do you have a master list for Drag me to hell? I just found out about the fic (with my the way is interesting as hell and btw the microphone beeing a demon is genious) and I cant find a way to read it from the beggening to the last chapter

Pt 1:

Pt 2:

Pt 3:

Pt 3.5:

Pt 4:

Pt 4.5: (NSFW warning)

[musical-chick-13]

My fucking God, I need someone to read this and tell me if it's in-character, but also I can't ask the average person to read it because. Like. It's a lot.

[mad-madam-m]

Good Omens Fic - A Well-Earned Nap

Title: A Well-Earned Nap Fandom: Good Omens Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley Word count: 1561 Rating: T Tags: Post-s1, Fainting, First Kiss Summary: "Crowley, is something wrong? You don't look so well." Crowley intended to brush it off, to say he was fine, but instead he said "I'm a bit tired" and promptly collapsed. Read it on AO3!

[sophiethewitch1]

you can't do this to me. I've escape the DC/Batboys hell. You can't just drag me back in, please have mercy on my poor soul.

I'm sorry but it's too late now. I'm going down and I'm taking literally everybody with me too.

[solivagantingrebel]

I need to get back into roleplays so I don't hate my writing again.

[artheresy]

Started to make a post ranting about wanting to see an indepth look at Chuuya’s grief over his life in a fic and how they overlap etc. and I think I just came up with a fic idea through all of that ranting h mm

Going to,, keep this post up to save my thoughts in the tags dont mind me