#inner peace at last

[justsomeectoplasm]

At long last...2 notifications....

[the-devil-less-known]

He trembles faintly, a bit like a rabbit, pulse quickening at the drag of teeth and lip in the juncture between shoulder and throat, hot breath fanning across skin, making his skin bloom with color as he flushes. There's an intimacy here that rattles him, hands moving unbidden to fist into the loose shirt the man put on at his request, clinging like that might ground him, might prepare him —

Of the searing burn of teeth sinking in, slicing through soft skin and muscle like butter, piercing and hot, enough for him to feel light headed, from pain and blinding relief. The starry ceiling blurs from the tears welling up, a struggle not to make indecent sounds and lose himself completely.

It's like his blood is singing, fighting to come out his own throat, and when he refuses, offers itself to be lapped up by a velveteen tongue. Called to him, to Alastor, beckoned him, cajoling and rejoicing, a welcome reunion of stars aligning —

Lucifer can hold onto himself, if only just, a slim tether of rationale through the hot stinging pain and smothering floating euphoria, his own teeth sinking deep into the flesh of his lip to muffle himself, the taste of his own blood filling his tongue, alive with magic and fighting him to heal, he could hold on, press it down with stifled whimpers and gasps —

Then Alastor pressed his clawed hand into Lucifer's back, and his vision nearly went white.

The man wouldn't know, what lurked beneath the Devil's clothes, right along the spine, nor how he would react to be touched there, as Lucifer always made a point to maintain distance, to keep others at arms length to avoid touching, escape the feeling of being grasped, and dragged down... And there, under his shirt, was a long raised scar, long and silvery, with markings that looked like a mass of feathers sectioned into six folded up wings, starting from the top between his shoulder blades to just about where his tail lay.

And a hand was pressing dead center on the largest section, groaning into Lucifer's neck and holding him near.

The tether snaps and Lucifer's claws rip into Alastor's shirt, rending the front into strips, and he bites into one part he can reach, now laid bare to him, the flesh of Alastor's shoulder, teeth sinking down to the bone and moaning at the taste of iron and dark magic, hot and filling his mouth, mixing with his own blood, fizzling on his tongue as the two fight. The Devil's teeth release just to bite down again and again, sinking in and shuddering, tongue pressing into the wounds and delving inside, losing himself, lost himself, gone.

All that can be felt, is what pain can cut through the warm floating numbness, hot flashes making him feel between passing out or — something, indecent, welling up, building, the muscles beneath Alastor's finger jumping and shivering, pressing back through the thin veil of skin and fabric, threatening to burst out, it's just so much, and yet — yet —

Lucifer wants more, yawning and needy inside, and on instinct, sinks his teeth down again and tears out the forbidden, and swallows it himself, the corrupted flesh of a demon, of a sinner, of Alastor Hartfelt, of that boy in the bayou waiting for the coming dawn, burning and tasting divine in its rotten fallen nature, the closest Lucifer might get to death, this night. It's spicy, it's rich and viscous, salt and pulsing green, with the cool aftertaste of the shade under a tree protecting from scorching sunlight.

"....please...."

The word slips out unbidden, hungry, desperate, but for what, exactly, Lucifer had no wherewithal to say, other than ....more, he needed more, he needed to drown in this, and he wanted it to be by Alastor's hands.

[ x ]

Alastor is not one to push boundaries needlessly or without pretense. At least not for individuals who he believes are owed some cognizance of said boundaries. (For normal Sinners and hellborn alike, Alastor will trod over them as he pleases - but Lucifer is neither and never has been.) Asking permission is one such way to express that he... is aware and... cares? In some haphazard definition of the word that even he is not ready to define properly. But with permission granted, even his hazy consciousness seems to drift further into the territory of far more eager.

For tonight. Just for tonight. And so he has to make it count, else he may never get the opportunity again.

His movements are deliberate now, shifting just enough so that he can hover slightly over where Lucifer lies, continuing to drag claws lightly over the pale flesh of the Devil's throat as he eyes it with interest and the faintest gleam of true hunger which broils beneath the surface. Alastor leans, with only some marginal hesitation, to close the distance between his mouth and that flesh, suddenly keenly aware of what swims beneath the surface. He can feel the essence pulsing - can practically hear it calling to him as no other being's blood ever has. No Sinner, no hellborn, no nothing has ever sounded and felt like such a stark siren call, his breath escaping him in a huff over skin that betrays his enthusiasm for the moment and yet he is doing his best to be respectful.

Patience, however, is in short supply.

With only a few more brushes of his nose and lips in what may be construed as a series of pre-bite displays of affection (if one searches for it), his jagged maw opens with purpose, pointed teeth bearing down onto flesh. Tentative, at first. Like testing the surface for tension. But he does not wait very long. Those points are meant to pierce and so they eventually do, breaking into flesh though not animalistic in how he does so. He does not rip or tear or shake his head back and forth as though he is a dog with a meal. This is meant for him to learn - to feel the blessing of something that someone like him is never meant to have.

And he acknowledges that the moment the blood sweeps onto his tongue.

Suddenly, Alastor presses in close, his eyes sliding shut as he takes what he has been given, one hand drifting down to sneak under Lucifer to support him between the shoulder blades as his teeth and tongue take in every bit of that golden essence for himself. In it, he can taste every single thing that Lucifer has ever told him about - those stars, the practical birth of humanity's free will, the astonishment of creation itself. It is like the sweetest of drugs, bringing him much farther to ecstasy than any possible cannabis, hallucinogen, or even opioid could feasibly ferry him to.

A deep, appreciative sound escapes his throat unbidden, no longer concerned about maintaining polite space between them as he eagerly keeps Lucifer tightly wound along with him. Trying hard - so exceptionally hard - to not chase his greed and bleed the devil dry, but the more he takes in for himself, the further he strays from true conscious behavior.

Alastor feels as though his eternal hunger; his eternal blood lust; his need for something substantial in heart, mind, body, and soul is being sated all at once and he cannot stop.

[3-aem]

duality of cat

[steamedlotusroot]

according to fsyy, li jing’s pagoda was originally given to him to use in self-defense from a patricidal nezha, and chinese netizens like to joke that he keeps it around because he knows it’ll be over for him once nezha notices it’s missing 💀

in the lady earth flow arc of jttw, when nezha uses his sword to stop li jing from attacking sun wukong, li jing PALES in fear because he thought nezha was going to betray him and he didn’t have his pagoda around to protect himself

of course nezha isn’t trying to kill him; he was stopping li jing from killing swk (because swk was gonna take him to court LMAO). and today i saw some c-netizen comments on XHS and i wanna summarize them because oh man 😭 :

nezha has moved on from their feud, but li jing will be haunted forever. the pagoda isn’t just for his protection; it’s to remind him of the consequences of his actions because he can never put it down, not unless he wants to risk getting attacked again. he’ll be forced to carry that pagoda for the rest of his life

[froschli96]

you know, i always find it really funny when dudebros complain about syndicate and odyssey being too "jokey" or not "taking its characters seriously" or whatever…

like, did y'all collectively sleep through "it's-a me, mario!", "i meant besides vaginas", ezio inventing the latte, bartolomeo's... just... *gestures vaguely* entire character, etc?

like, it's fine to have preferences of course, i myself prefer a more serious and grounded tone, but these are usually the same people who tout the ezio trilogy as "peak assassin's creed", call ac1 a glorified tech demo and hate on connor for being "too serious and boring", like? make it make sense!

[anidealistatbestburntoutatworst]

literally anyone describing meursault: “it’s hell in there,,, it’s horror- you have to be a certain type of person to survive…”

fyodor & dazai: *playing prison chess, creating their own language and having a good fun time causing chaos*

[presdestigatto]

the snort i let out when i went to verstappen.com on twt and discovered that i irrationally blocked them last year for posting too much love and kumbaya content

[dfastback68]

The best part about getting laid off is that those emails will never find me again 😌

[godfistgonnalive]

v4v kismesissitude

[typewriteringalaxy]

extremely cursed timebomb au idea

Ekko winning Silco over, talking to him about political theory and the best future for Zaun while Jinx screeches in the rafters. Vi is somehow there too (just replace younger brother with older sister lol)

I DID SAY IT WAS CURSED

[earnestattempts]

issue 5 part 1

“Eudaimonia” means “the good life”, not just contentment but a deeper and more complex state of being. This is one chapter of a series that explores different aspects of the concept.

read the whole series here! or catch up on the tag

patreon link in bio - no pressure, but any little bit helps!

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

echoing moon you are Also one of my v first internet friends and led me to meeting many wonderful people + set me on the path to like. Actually Make Internet Friends and i will forever be sappy about it ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

sitting in my room crying sniffling did you guys know human connections are everything . i need to lie down

[lieutenant-amuel]

💫Valerio Symbolism💫

***

Happy birthday to the history man <3

[kingdomchronicles]

[thefundisorderdiary]

My friends; I MADE IT!!

Welcome to my living room, in the bungalow where I’m the sole tenant!

My safe home for a good few years to come.

That’s the extent of my furniture so far, but I’m in the process of booking a moving van for my boxes and I’ve got some more furniture to buy.

But I have my keys! It’s so wonderful and quiet and my neighbour is actually friendly!

Quiet life; here I come!

[photoblogdujour]

The dog was barking and I went out to see what was the matter. The dog was at the old elm tree barking at something up in the lower branches. I could spy some blue and bits of greenish. Yes indeed, the dog had treed a Germander! Well, there was no calming the dog, so I coaxed the Germander down, give it a few good pets, took a pic for good measure. And fed it to the dog.