#mistys sinners

[mistys-sinners]

“The greatest trick the devil pulled was convincing the world there was only one of him.”

-David Wong, “John Dies at the End”

💀🩷💀🩷💀🩷💀🩷💀🩷💀🩷💀🩷💀🩷💀🩷💀

[lunarzomb]

Someone in The Misty Nation community asked why we like Misty,,, ouh boy,,,, they have no idea the beast they just unleashed with that question (I’m going to respond with my very detailed reasoning as soon as I finish watching Sinners in theaters) (Also I’m so excited to see Sinners!!! I’ll probably post my thoughts on the movie after I’m done with it)

[moonlight-presence]

Will ye go, lassie, go?

Remmick X Female Reader

Summary: After saving you from a life of pain and loneliness, Remmick and you become connected for eternity. Amid the misty backdrop of a river at night, you sing "Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go?", a song that stirs deep, forgotten memories within Remmick. Drawn to your voice and the bond you two now share, you succumb to your carnal pleasures.

2,251 words

Notes:

🩸 stór = my love/my darling 🩸 stóreen = my little darling 🩸 foc = fuck 🩸 anamchara = soulmate 🩸 Cén guth álainn = what a beautiful voice

!SMUT CONTENT!

The world was only half lived before he came into your life. Every plant was pretty to look at, not overwhelming to your senses, humans were good company, not drumming heartbeats begging you to have a taste, and the night was dark and terrifying, not welcoming like a mother's embrace. 

 The more you tried to remember how your life was before Remmick turned you, the more you forgot. Why bother? You had been miserable. Time was torture and living your punishment. Now? Well, now you could taste the metallic blood on your tongue, dance with goblins and devils, and sing freely.

Oh, the summertime has come

And the trees are sweetly bloomin'

The wild mountain thyme

Grows around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

You let the last note linger on your tongue longer than usual. The enjoyment of freedom was like poison in your veins, and you wanted nothing more but to drown yourself in it. 

 You were sitting by a river, the cold breeze of night holding you and the memories of those turned roaming inside your head. Everything was connected, and you were everything. 

 You were an orphan boy, forced to steal. A woman made slave. A man whose father was taken from him by the righteous hands of sinners. A Chinese girl, an ancestor of the chief of a tribe long gone, a bureaucrat, a soldier. You were all, and they were all you. 

 It felt good not to be alone. Comforting. 

 And it was in that comfort and singing of old melodies from a land across the ocean, one filled with magic creatures, that Remmick found you, once more, as he had years ago. 

 “You really fancied that old tune, uh?” he said from behind you. 

 You turned to meet his red eyes, and you couldn't help but show him your fangs. It was becoming a habit. 

 “It's gorgeous. I know how much it means to you,” you replied. 

 “Then be sure to sing it as loud as you can.” Remmick walked towards you. Mist wrapped around his body with each step, making him seem like a myth from the old legends. His red eyes, glowing in the pitch black, mirrored yours.

 He sat next to you, and you smelled the blood on his mouth immediately. It was fresh; he had fed recently. 

 “Who was it?” you whispered, moving your knees to touch his. 

 Remmick smiled, not a good old smile but one of those that made your bones all jiggly, before saying, “You askin’ if I turned them?”

 You nodded with a guilty smile and brought your fingers to his lips. They were clean, but you could still feel the moisture of the blood beneath the skin. 

 “I wanted to free him, baby, I really did, but his blood was so sweet…” Your breath quickened as you saw, inside your head, what he had seen. “Well, I couldn't resist.” 

 “Let me taste it,” you begged as you wetted your thumb with his saliva.

 Remmick's lips stretched into a grin, and you felt his teeth, sharp and still throbbing from his kill. You couldn’t resist the urge as you brought your thumb to your lips and sucked on it. 

 You closed your eyes briefly, trying to intensify the flavor, but it was far too faint to ease your desire. You needed more.

 “Oh, darlin’, that’s quite alright… Come here,” Remmick said, voice hypnotizing and layered with honey. 

 Your lips met then, and the sweet taste of blood met your tongue like an old friend. A groan escaped your lips, and you felt his own desire resonating with yours. You deepened the kiss, swirling your tongues together in a fiery dance. 

 Remmick hummed, clearly pleased, and grabbed the back of your head, tangling his fingers with your hair. His nails were grown now, scratching your scalp and making the sweet dance of your desires pick up its pace. 

 It wasn’t the first time you had taken him for a lover, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. The others weren’t quite the same as you… They respected Remmick, worshipped him even for immortalizing them, but your connection to him was far deeper. When your bodies blended and your blood pumped at the same pace, that was when you truly were complete. 

 “Stór, I can feel your fire,” Remmick whispered, breaking the kiss. You whined at the loss and he smirked, fangs poking from his top lip. 

 “I want you so bad,” you said, grabbing his shoulders and hoisting yourself to his lap. He looked up at you, and you held the back of his neck. “Make love to me.”

 Remmick hummed, feeling your desire inside him as wildfire. “Keep singin’, stór. I wanna hear your beautiful voice, baby.”

 You nodded as his hands went underneath your skirt. You shuddered as his fingers traced your skin and went up your legs. The words found you then.

Oh, the summertime has come

And the trees are sweetly bloomin'

The wild mountain thyme

Grows around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

“Cén guth álainn,” Remmick whispered. 

 You continued singing softly as his fingers finally found your arousal, and your breath quickened. He had always had such a way with his hands during such moments. 

 “Oh…” you moaned between verses as he spread your folds and traced them up and down, coating his fingers with your moisture. 

 “Ssshhh…” he said, although a smirk stayed on his lips. He was hard beneath his pants, you could feel that. 

If my true love, she won't come

Then I'll surely find another

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

He began stroking your clit, making you bite your bottom lip and almost draw blood. Remmick’s pupils dilated, and the glow of his eyes intensified as he reached for your lips and briefly kissed them. 

 “Let me fuck you now, baby,” you begged, feeling his thumb on your clit. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

 “Baby, how could I ever deny you?” he asked with a raspy voice that made your skin tingle. “Take my cock out, stór.”

 You immediately obeyed, reaching for his belt and undoing it before you put your hand underneath his pants and found his hard shaft. Remmick hissed, fangs growing as you took him out, staring at his flushed head. It was glistening, pearly drops of cum running down his shaft, and you collected the moisture and stroked him up and down softly. 

 “When I first laid eyes on you, darlin’, I knew you were different,” Remmick confessed. His voice was a bit strained as you stroked him slowly. “I could feel your pain, baby. Hell, I knew that pain.”

 “You saved me from it, baby,” you cut him off with an urgency. You had to reassure him. 

 “I know, stór, I know… You needed savin’,” he whispered. 

 You looked into his eyes and saw the reflection of who you had been there. You hated that person, but still, you looked. He wanted you to remember. 

 “Are you happy now, stóreen?” He removed his hands from your arousal and held your thighs up. “Do you see how grand life can be?”

 You lined the head of his cock with your entrance but not before rubbing him up and down your folds and making his breath quicken. Your skirt was covering your love making, but you wouldn’t care if anybody saw you. You wanted them to. 

 “I’m so happy, darlin’,” you confessed. You began sinking on his cock, feeling the beautiful pain of the stretch. “Ah…”

 “There we go… Beautiful,” he praised you as his cock entered you. 

 You bit your bottom lip and held onto his shoulders until every inch of his shaft was inside you and you were sitting on his thighs again. Remmick let you adjust to him for a few seconds before pushing your skirt aside and holding your ass. 

 “Fuck yourself on it, stór. Make love to me,” he growled as the drool fell down his chin. It reminded you of the first time you had met. 

 You began moving your hips, feeling his cock hit all the right places inside you. Moans spilled from your lips, and you grabbed the back of his head again, pulling his hair. Remmick liked that by the way he squeezed your ass and brought his lips to your neck. 

 You felt his fangs trace your skin, and your lips stretched into a satisfied smile. 

 “Your cunt is so tight,” he groaned against your neck those sweet words. 

 “It’s always like that for you, baby,” you said, breathless, as you picked up the pace. 

 Remmick hummed and started kissing your neck. Then, you felt a slight sting of pain as his two fangs pierced your skin and drew a bit of blood. Vampire’s blood wasn’t any good, but he seemed to enjoy it like a virgin's blood. 

 “Fuckin’ hell,” you moaned with a laugh, feeling him lick your blood. 

 Remmick raised his head, lips stained with redness, and crashed your mouths together. You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed your sounds of pleasure. 

 When the fire of your passion rose to wildfire, burning the mist around you, you felt your nails grow. You wanted to fuck him harder, to take him harder, to feel him harder, so you picked up your pace and squeezed around his cock. Remmick moaned your name in his tongue, and you understood him in yours. That was the beautiful gift of immortality: the knowledge of the past, present, and future. 

 “You are takin’ me so well,” Remmick whispered against your mouth. You felt his nails pierce your flesh. “You’re a sinner, baby. Mine.”

 “Yours.” You whined his name and nearly cried out when his cock hit a special spot inside you. The sudden peak in stimulation made your fangs pierce your bottom lip, cutting yourself. By instinct, your tongue went to clean the blood, but Remmick spoke first. 

 "No. Let me taste it," Remmick said, looking at the blood dripping down your bottom lip. You nodded and he licked the blood before wrapping his lips on your bottom lip and sucking on the flesh. The sensation was so familiar to you.

“Remmick.”

 “Foc,” he cursed under his breath, licking his own lips clean. You met his red eyes and pulled his hair back roughly. Remmick groaned with a short laugh and then stared at your mouth. "Spit."

 You didn't have to ask him where, having done this so many times before. 

You smirked and let a string of saliva mixed with blood fall between his parted lips. Then, when he swallowed it as if it were a nectar from the sweetest fruit, you kissed him again. In the middle of rough kisses, his fingers found your clit again and he began slowly stroking it. That made everything ten times more intense and you squeezed around his cock.

 “I’m close. Oh, anamchara, I’m so close,” you warned him as the familiar pull of your orgasm appeared on your lower belly. 

 “Come on, beautiful. Come on, stór. I wanna feel you,” Remmick encouraged you. You pulled his hair again, and he groaned. 

 Your body began dripping with sweat, and you closed your eyes, throwing your head back and holding onto his head for support. After a few more seconds, your orgasm washed over you. 

 It began like a slow wave, until it built and drowned you in pleasure. Your legs started shaking, your clit throbbing and you squeezed around his cock making him hiss. That must have sent him over the edge because you felt his cum spill inside you. 

 “Foc… Shit…” he cursed, breathless. 

 You collapsed against his body then, too exhausted to think or move, as your orgasm began dying down. He still throbbed inside you, and you licked your lips and kissed the side of his sweaty neck. He smelled so sweet. 

 “You drive me mad, baby,” he said between breaths. You felt him remove his fingers from your clit. “Give me a kiss.”

 You kissed him immediately, pulling his head back so you could be slightly over his face. Remmick smirked against your lips and deepened the kiss before you two had to pull away to catch your breath. 

 “Don’t leave me, baby,” you whispered against his lips. “I was here all alone for hours. I couldn’t feel you properly. I was so frightened that you were hurt.”

 “I’m sorry, baby… Sing for me again. That’s gonna make it all alright. I promise,” he said. 

 You kissed him again, briefly, before pulling yourself from his softening cock. Remmick put himself back in his pants, and you pulled your skirt down, covering yourself. 

 You remained on his lap, though, and continued humming that sweet old song that his father used to sing to him before bed. It made you at peace.

 

And we'll all go together

He closed his eyes and put his head on your shoulder. You brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead before running your fingers through his hair and letting the night be filled with the song.

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

[mcpostinghours]

I'm gonna obey me post again, this time with what children's movies I think made the boys cry like men

Lucifer: Toy Story 2, when When She Loved Me comes on he's a goner, full sobbing. (Though this is kind of a cop-out since that scene does it to everyone, you are not immune to Jessie backstory time)

Mammon: The opening sequence to Up, he was so upset he almost didn't watch the rest of it. He just wanted Carl and Ellie to be happy damn it.

Leviathan: All of The Fox and the Hound. He just has a lot of feelings about friendship. Copper standing over Todd made him cry full manly tears.

Satan: All Dogs go to Heaven when Charlie gives up his chance to go to heaven and says goodbye. Something about a sinner being redeemed through love... (this one also gets Mammon)

Asmodeous: The ending to Shrek. He has a lot of body issues and seeing Fiona be loved and seen as beautiful even when she "wasn't beautiful" anymore made him feel a lot.

Beelzebub: I mean... All of The Little Mermaid. I feel like I don't need to elaborate further. It's both happy and sad tears though because he likes to think Lilith had a happy ending like Ariel

Belohagor: Believe it or not I think it's the funeral scene in Snow White. Especially when Grumpy starts crying. There's seven dwarves and seven of the brothers so it kind of makes him think of "what if that happened to mc?" And despite there literally being a dwarf named "sleepy" I think he sees more of him and how he felt about MC in Grumpy.

Diavolo: He's a sentimental guy, so I feel like there's a few that would get him. In particular though I think it would be when Mufasa dies in The Lion King. He has father issues... He also wants to pick up Simba and make him feel better.

Barbatos: See he's not a crier. Though I think what would get him the closest is Little Foot's mother dying in The Land Before Time. I know we don't know much about Diavolo's parents but it seems implied he lost his mom at a young age too, and Barbatos feels that ache too.

Luke: Luke IS actually baby, so there's a few. But like when Lilo is being taken away from Nani he's inconsolable the first time watching. It makes him think of being taken away from Simeon. Which he definitely fears post *spoilers*.

Simeon: Much like Satan a lot of All Dogs Go to Heaven gets to him. To give him an individual answer though... I feel like the reprise of Heaven's Light in Hunchback might get to him, and when Quasi is being tortured at the festival. Especially post *spoilers.*

Solomon: He acts like he's a big mean cynic, and for the most part it's kinda true. However (and this might be me projecting) he is not immune to muppets, and he's deeply lonely. Ergo I think that when Gonzo sings I'm Going to Go Back There Someday he's a goner. (Note: he also gets a little misty during the Rainbow Connection)(which is absolutely me projecting)

[slayfics]

Hello! Do you think you can do a Bakugo x reader who genuinely has a hard time accepting gifts and being spoiled because they grew up in a low income household? Thank you!

Katsuki gives you a gift.

600 words

Katsuki burst through the door of your shared apartment and announced his return, “Hey brat I’m home!”

You came to the front room to greet him and were taken off guard by what was in his hands.

He had a large stuffed animal tucked under his arm with his work belongings in the other. He dropped his work bag and handed the stuffed animal out to you.

“I picked this up on the way home for ya,” he explained.

You hesitantly grabbed the stuffed animal, quickly realizing it wasn’t just any stuffed animal. It was a special edition Sanrio plush that had just came out in your favorite character. One that you recognized to be rather pricey, as you had been eyeing it the last few days.  

You stared at the plush in your hands, overwhelmed by the mixed feelings that took over you.

“What? Ya don’t like it?” he asked, confused by your unenthusiastic reaction.

“No that’s not it!” You hurriedly replied.

“Then what? That’s your favorite character, right?” He further interrogated.

“Yeah, it is,” you confirmed.

“Then why are you looking like someone died?” He questioned.

You let out a sigh as you gathered your thoughts. You weren’t sure how to put how you felt into words. Yet, you knew it was a conversation you had to have. Lately Katsuki had been getting you more expensive and frequent gifts and it was triggering your past.

“I’m not used to this,” you explained. “Growing up we didn’t have a lot of resources. It was all my family could do to keep food on the table… Whenever they did buy me toys or extra clothes, I felt guilty… like they should have used that money for themselves instead. I love all these gifts you give me but- I can’t help but still feel guilty sometimes. I still have that instinct that I don’t need this, and money should only be spent on necessities.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, “That’s why I buy you all this stuff idiot,” he huffed. “I know how you grew up; we’ve talked about it so- I want to make up for what you didn’t have back then. I’m a top pro hero now so you don’t ever have to worry about not having enough money for necessities. What good is being a pro hero if I can’t spoil my favorite person.”

You looked up from the plush with misty eyes. Katsuki’s expression was stern, but his eyes were full of affection.

“Look,” Katsuki continued. “I know I don’t… say all the right things sometimes… and I’m not good at expressing how I feel about you. This is how I make up for that. By providing for you and getting you any damn thing you want. So… you can’t take this away from me because… it’s how I say I love you.”

You squeezed the stuffed animal as a tear broke free and ran down your cheek. Katsuki was quick to wipe it with his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Damn it,” he sighed. “You were supposed to smile and kiss me when I gave you the damn plush not cry.”

You sniffled, “It’s a good cry though.”

“Yeah yeah, come here,” he mumbled pulling you into an embrace. You nuzzled into his chest, holding the plush to your chest. “I mean that,” he continued. “You want or need anything you just tell me. Your family too. Gonna take care of all of ya now.” He spoke holding you tightly.

“I love you Kats,” you hummed into his chest.

“I love you too, so… say ya like the damn plus already.” He urged.

“It’s perfect,” you smiled.

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

[deathclassic]

even more shameless fic recs bc my last post got too long

part one part three

aka i went through all my shameless bookmarks of 2024 bc this fandom is fucking talented

Highway of Hedonism by @gallapiech @roryonic

Imagine Us In Heaven (This Is It, Baby) by ish_the_fish

Darkness comes before the Dawn by @creepkinginc @transmurderbug @ian-galagher

in this and every life by biblionerd07

Statesville Summer by @rayrayor

Arrest Me, Officer by tearyzombie

guaranteed to satisfy by @catgrassplantdad

Keep your friends close, by makeapointofhavingfun

Gallavich trapped in IKEA by sejeaugusta

Parking Lot Lovers, or Drive-Thru Dick Down?  by @nymacron

Africa by @ian-galagher

The Night Shift by @blue-disco-lights

elevator music by gallavichsecurity

A New Personal Best by @jrooc

Leave this blue neighborhood by @redwiccanrobin

Reconfigure, Deconstruct, and Begin by @iansw0rld

Learnt It In Basic by @iansw0rld

right across the hall by @sam-loves-seb

No way out by Anonymous

Saddle Up by @mybrainismelted

Rub One Out by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Pickpocket by MyAmisFics

The Meeting with Mr. Gallagher by TomarryIsLifeee

Let the light in by elejsh

Treat You Better by ShipperGirl121

Having A Ball by @callivich @gallawitchxx

i’m too misty, and too much in love by pinkpantherman

Accidents happen by whatyouandihave

I would go to hell and hit the devil for you. by patrochilleslov

Baby Oh Baby by TomarryIsLifeee

Silent Pain in Emerald Eyes by takeyourpillsbitch

Spousal Privilege by BitterTongue

I Dreamed a Dream by princess_sarah

Being an older brother by Dannee2704

Forever Is In Our Eyes by hell_yeah_stargazer_lilies

A Song Only You Can Hear by @suzy-queued

The stranger by Gallavichxlove 

tell me it's love (tell me it's real) by likethescarofage

old love by @em-harlsnow

Katie by @mybrainismelted

i know he needs you, you’re all that he sees by Itstheurgetofall

The Ink is a Witness to This by pink_ink

I Want a Divorce by KateJ

Asking nicely by Pillox

The fuck did you just call him? by Snuggle_snakes

Sinner by @thepupperino

Right Here With You by TomarryIsLifeee

Like Heroin, Morphine and other Opioids (College Boys and their Fentanyl Brothers) by Elmer_s_s0cks

a beginner's mind by @spoonfulstar

with you between my arms by @darlingian

the edge of all we’ve ever known by @sam-loves-seb

Caught by TomarryIsLifeee

Old Habits and New Revelations by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Set Up For Failure by SpiritCat179

I Got Your Back by TomarryIsLifeee

perfect fit by @catgrassplantdad

Who's Mickey? by AnniseFreya

Hallucinations by SpiritCat179

Battlefield Chicago by @mybrainismelted

Black lace by Gallavichxlove

Unlearning His Love by SpiritCat179

The Dock Scene (but not as you know it) by @bawlbrayker

Everybody Wants A Taste by @nymacron

[charlottelie]

oh, lucifer?

chapter i. (or, selkie sees a snake) ✧･ﾟ

tags: reader uses she/her pronouns, fem!reader, reader is a trapeze artist, sinner!reader, reader works at lu lu world, no use of y/n, ducks galore

.

You hadn’t meant to. Your guiding philosophy in life and afterlife had always been ‘Ask for forgiveness, not permission’, and it seemed so sound a maxim that you were usually slightly bemused when you found yourself in the unfortunate position of actually having to ask for forgiveness. Upon your arrival in Hell you had thought, Well, I certainly didn’t mean to end up here. Upon your arrival in Lu Lu World you had thought, Well, I wouldn’t say I exactly intended to join a Hadean circus. You hadn’t meant for either of these moral catastrophes to come about—that is, your sending yourself to the Other Place and your working at a fairground—but, despite all your good intentions, here you were. Rotten luck. 

You also hadn’t meant to be late for your act again, but here you were, late as always. You dusted your hands with chalk, briskly clapping them more out of habit than anything else as you examined your makeup in a misty mirror someone had propped up outside the dressing rooms. A poster on the wall, framed by peeling paint, announced your act in proud block capitals: Selkie, the Flying Seal! They had put you right before the interval. Did that make you the star performer? Third-best, at any rate: best were the acrobats, Belladonna and the Bedbugs, the grand finale, and second-best was Sunny’s balancing act, which opened the show. You could hear someone approaching, and fast. Your boss, no doubt, come to gently encourage you to get the fuck onto the stage. 

You looked at him mildly: Didier, who insisted it was pronounced ‘Didi-AIR’, tall, half-imposing, mostly composed, rarely generous, currently furious beyond belief. 

“Selkie! Where the fuck have you been? You’re on in thirty seconds! Ten, nine, eight—” 

You liked to think of him as sort of a lost soul, someone you’d taken under your wing, although, of course, he had been the one to take pity on you and hire you in the first place, and, of course, it was your soul that was on the line. “I’m sorry, Didi-yur,” you said quietly, and he scoffed. As you watched him thoughtfully, compassionately, he grabbed you by the shoulders and half-pushed, half-led you onto the platform—surely a textbook case of abuse in the workplace, if you weren’t in Hell—and you gave him a final glance of serene benevolence before, at his command, you whipped around, stepped into the blazing golden lights of the great circus tent, waved to the crowd, flashed a smile, and leapt from the platform into the open space before you. 

The breathless silence. The hot dusty air. The rush in your stomach like an oncoming wave before you lightly caught the bar another performer had flung towards you, adjusted your grip, and neatly somersaulted to another swing. Here a half-turn, here a straddle whip, and here, at the very peak of the motion of the trapeze, you let go, and hung impossibly in the air for a second before you plummeted, as you were wont to do, and were caught by another trapeze artist. Of course the dizzying leaps and the melodramatic plunges were part of the act. You knew the movements, the swings and the sways and the somersaults; you were, admittedly, at home here. The onlookers roared in delight; your heart, admittedly, soared. But as you spun, leant back, shifted your weight, glanced at the audience, you noticed, about three rows from the front, an unprecedented, unsolicited, indeed undesirable arrival: the strangest demon you had ever met. Or, at least, the strangest demon in the past three days. 

The fine kettle of fish was this. Belladonna, Sunny, Pell-Mell, the clowns, the knife-throwers, the knife-throwees, even the Bedbugs, bless their hearts, had all signed their souls over to Didier. He had expected the same of you when you had been given the job. But you, unused to asking, used to getting, were not prepared to quite merrily hand over the one thing that had guaranteed your continued existence to a man in a slim red tie. And so you had taken on a different sort of contract—which could have been hot, but, regrettably, Didier was not inclined to make such exchanges. You were simply paid far less than what you needed. That was all. The prosaic truth. He had you under contract, but nothing so poetic as a soul-binding one. You simply sewed your own costumes, went without breakfast. You scrounged around for whatever you could whenever you could. You had taken up residence in a formerly-disused caravan with the structural integrity of a multivitamin capsule. 

You had found there was little glory in starving, little romance. It was the banality of it that struck you, when you sighed weakly after your taps wouldn’t turn on, or Didi cut off your electricity, or you found you would have to choose between food and heating. It was the endless rolling of the cold and empty days that you suspected would grind you down in the end. But of course they were punctuated by your dazzling nights, your whirling wheeling flights through the grandly lit top tent that drew so many to Lu Lu World. And of course you were resourceful. 

In your life you had always been willing to bend the rules. In your death you were no different. You had the right kind of mind for business, and your business was, up there and down here, remarkably effective. Any con, put-on, cutup, cantrip, flimflam, ramp or scam anyone could think of, you’d done it. You once stole a woman’s shoes and sold them to her husband’s mistress for twice the retail price. Double-joke was on her, because purple was not her color. Only yesterday you had sold a sweet-looking sinner an ‘astral lightning rod’ meant to attract ‘negative interdimensional frequencies’ and channel them into their neighbors’ houses. The lightning rod in question was a refashioned rake you had found in the bins outside the gift shop. To put it plainly, as it were, if it had to be said, you were a, quote-unquote, ‘scammer’, though you and yours would never call it that. You hadn’t meant to end up in this trade, after all. You would like to think you had an entrepreneurial mindset. 

This entrepreneurial mindset had landed you in a stall (without a permit, obviously) in the Lu Lu World food court, having donned a wig and taken on the persona of a charming Texan aunt. Here you sold separately heart-shaped chocolates you had bought in bulk, meticulously unwrapped, and meticulously re-wrapped in shiny pink paper, to whichever passing demons or sinners appeared lonely or gullible or both. You told them all these chocolates, if consumed, would make anyone fall in love with them. To a pale imp in a band T-shirt you had sold three for five times what you’d paid for a box of eight; to a fishlike sinner whose disinterested girlfriend had abandoned him for the fairyfloss stall you sold five at, you told him, fifty percent off (which was three times the usual price). They had told their friends; their friends had flocked to your stall; soon afterwards, your original buyers had come back for more. But now there was a lull in business, as there usually was at this time of the afternoon. So when you noticed a duck demon – literally, a demon the size and shape of a duck, albeit a cartoonishly cute one – with an odd gait and a faraway look in his eyes, you were thrilled to have once again hit the jackpot.

You called him over excitedly. “Hey there, friend, what’s got you looking so glum?” That caught his attention. Hook. “You know, I see all sorts of people come through here. But ain’t none of them got such a positively chap-fallen look on their faces—not to insult you, gorgeous.” He was watching you with wary curiosity. Line. “Come on. Don’t you wanna tell old Mrs. Appleby all about it?” Sinker. 

“You’re not married,” he said. Sinker? That was strange. 

“What?”

“You’re not married. You’re not wearing a wedding ring.” Was he one of those? A flirt? Read: creep? Those were often easier to sell to. 

You pointed at your sign. Mrs. Appleby’s Apple-licious Treats. “Mrs. Appleby. That all that ambiguous?” you said, which won you a small smile from this bizarrely fluffy, bizarrely yellow duck. He flew surprisingly gracefully (you, the Flying Seal, knew what made a graceful flight) towards your stall, perching on the countertop just in front of your merchandise. And as he did so, you felt a dull crackle of power in the air, but, habitually incautious, you ignored it. Perhaps an Overlord-adjacent was taking a piss behind the neighboring food truck. Something like that. 

“It’s just heart-shaped candy,” he said. Usually demons looked like they’d just crawled out of a monsoon drain. Not this duck. He looked like a dapper gift-shop-plushie, the kind that comes with a sweet tag with their inevitably adorable name, written beneath it, Please look after this [relevant animal]! 

“Just heart-shaped candy? Why, this is the best heart-shaped candy you’ve ever had the good fortune to feast your eyes upon! ‘Why is that, Mrs. Appleby?’ Why, I’ll tell ya!” He seemed to be enjoying himself, not least because he hadn’t left. “This chocolate is magic!” That earned you another smile. 

“Really? Is that so?”

“Sure is. Straight from my distant uncle Asmodeus. Just eat one, wait three hours, and you’ll be feeling sprightly as a spring lamb. Two’ll have all the hens—or the men, don’t look so dejected, whatever you prefer—running after you like you’re catnip and they’re a litter of kittens.”

“Hold on now. You’re trying to sell me chocolate…chocolate-ified love potions? Love potion-ified chocolate? Love-ified—” 

You waved a hand at him in pleasant dismissal. “Now, don’t you overthink it, honey. I just saw you needed a helping hand and Auntie Appleby thought she’d take a”—you surprised even yourself with this one—“quack at it.” For a glorious moment he struggled between delight and disappointment. Then he laughed, genuinely, and smiled at you with something like satisfaction.

“Two’ll make me catnip. What’ll three do?”

You paused, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I ate three, and look at me now.” 

And after that it really had been sinker, and you’d sold him a box of ten and wrapped it up in pink parchment and given it to him in a pretty heart-shaped bag with added glitter. You wondered if he’d realized he was being fleeced. There was an air of irony about the way he treated you, but you were pleased to play along. A sale was a sale.

Naturally, though, you tried not to encounter people you’d sold something to after you’d sold it to them. You’d been a little careless today, telling them to wait only three hours. You’d thought that’d be enough to get them out of the grounds, but this duck was persistent. As usual, you hadn’t meant for this to happen. He still had his heart-shaped bag. He was sitting smugly in a seat far too large for him. Did he recognise you? Could he recognise you? The Flying Seal was a far cry from homely Mrs. Appleby. It could have been a coincidence. Perhaps he just liked the circus. It wasn’t strictly unusual to re-encounter your customers. But he was watching you intently, you realized, before you had to maneuver yourself into the arms of your closest friend in the circus, your counterpart, Pell-Mell, the Soaring Fiddler. And then, still incautious, you let the strange duck slip from your mind, and flung yourself from the catchbar again. 

Lucifer had decided to visit Lu Lu World less out of curiosity and more out of boredom and a vague sense of duty. It was, after all, his theme park. He’d been reckless, coming as a duck, but who’d guess this out-of-place, out-of-sorts waterfowl was the Lightbringer himself? Besides, he’d wanted to watch the circus. He hadn’t quite known what to expect. Perhaps he’d expected to be disappointed. 

But now he watched you in what seemed your most natural state. Flying, entertaining. Even without the wig and the bizarre Texan accent he recognised you (he, of all people, knew what made a good trick, a good show). He saw how you fed on the crowd’s cheers like they kept you alive. It was miraculously complex and miraculously simple. You were happy they were happy. He watched you as you rose and dove through the air as your namesake might through water—easily, happily, unembarrassed—and the lights, your smile, the spectacle, recalled to him, dimly, as if seen through rain, something he had felt a long time ago. 

You landed delicately on the platform opposite the one you had arrived from. “Selkie, the Flying Seal!” the ringmaster declared triumphantly. You winked mischievously at the audience. Did you realize they were thrilled with you? Could you realize it? Did the whole performance require a level of obliviousness? You caught the outstretched hand of your fellow performer, a small, slender girl sporting a glossy bob, and lifted her onto the platform. The two of you gave a final bow, and you, beaming, looked not down at the audience but up at the distant lights. 

Lucifer decided half-consciously that he ought to come back.

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

Introducing Cherry!Reader

“If you die first, I’ll crawl into your coffin and close the lid.”

Paired with Serial Killer!Pope

Content warning please read

This au will contain incest (Pope and Cherry are cousins if you don’t like it I advise you to block me stop reading now and move on), Strong Religious imagery, mentions of murder, corpses, death etc. And just to be safe necrophillia. (they’re fucking around dead bodies)

Requests for this au OPEN/closed

Divider Credits @starfxkrinc ofc<3

Cousins. Soulmates. Sinners.

Cherry doesn’t talk much. Not because she can’t, but because words are too shallow for what she is.

But Pope understands her. Every tilt of her head, every lash of her tongue against her teeth, every little hum that vibrates in her throat when she’s aroused or annoyed.

She’s created an entire private language with him made of sighs, pouts, glances, finger taps, and slow, almost teasing hand movements.

It’s intimate. Sensual. Dangerous.

He translates for her. At the mortuary front desk, to grieving families. In town. In bed.

“She says she understands your pain,” he tells a woman mourning her daughter, while Cherry stands behind him with her hands folded, eyes dark, expression unreadable.

But Cherry didn’t say that.

She said, That bitch is faking it. I can smell it.

And Pope who is the only one who knows her smiles so softly when he lies for her.

To anyone else, she’s mute. Mysterious. Terrifying. But to Pope? She sings in silence.

They have a private, secret language an unholy code of glances, movements, skin to skin symphony.

One blink, and he knows she’s hungry. One drag of her nail along his wrist, and he knows she wants to watch tonight.

He speaks for her in public. He orders her coffee. He signs paperwork for her at the DMV.

If someone dares to address her directly, she just tilts her head with that sweet little smirk.

Pope always answers with a quiet, amused, “She said no.”

When Pope talks to clients, Cherry just sits behind the front desk, legs spread under her velvet skirt, eyes locked on him. And if she blinks three times slowly he knows she’s soaking wet.

Knows she needs his hand between her thighs. Knows she wants him to finish the meeting and bend her over the casket in the prep room.

They are cousins, but the line has always been blurry. She’s been obsessed with him since they were kids watching him dissect frogs in the backyard, whispering to him about the dead like they were mutual friends.

He was her first crush, her first obsession, and eventually, her first partner in crime.

She’s curvy, and always a little too bare for a workplace surrounded by corpses.

Her eyes are dark, dreamy, hooded with something that says I’ve watched people die and felt nothing.

Her voice is slow, syrupy, with a deep southern lilt like a preacher’s daughter who’s just learned how to sin.

Her nails are always blood red, her thighs peeking out from garter belts beneath sheer black dresses, and there’s always a small vial of some stranger’s ashes tucked in the lace of her bra.

They grew up together in a house full of secrets. Always too close. He was the first boy to see her in a slip.

She was the first girl to watch him skin a deer and say, “Do it slower next time.” Even back then, they shared a language of glances and bruised silences. A language no one else could understand.

When Pope took over the mortuary, he didn’t expect Cherry to show up the next morning in a black minidress and blood colored lipstick, saying “You need someone at the front.

Let me be your pretty little gatekeeper.” He didn’t expect to want her at all but the way she leaned on the counter, licking cherry candy off her fingers, made it impossible to say no.

Now they live in the same house behind the mortuary, separated by just one thin wall and a thousand unspoken things. They say they’re cousins when people ask. But if anyone looked too closely. They’d see her lipstick on his collar. Or the bite marks she leaves on his back after hours.

She wears sheer stockings and vintage slips instead of scrubs. On the rare occasions she speaks she answers the phone like it’s a hotline to hell.

“Thank you for calling Heyward Mortuary. Death never sleeps, and neither do we.”

She files death certificates while popping cherry flavored lollipops between her lips.

She crosses and uncrosses her legs slowly when people walk in.

She winks at widowers. Smiles too wide at grieving wives.

She tells Pope who deserves an extra deep grave.

When she’s bored, she sits in the embalming room with her legs swinging off the counter, talking about which bodies are the prettiest.

“You know,” she coos, tracing her finger along a corpse’s jaw, “she almost looks like me.

Maybe if I die young, you’ll keep me here. All cold and soft for you.”

And Pope stoic, brilliant Pope just grits his teeth and tells her to get out. But she never does.

Cherry isn’t just his receptionist. She’s his accomplice. His little helper. His sin incarnate.

She’ll distract a client by sitting across from them, legs spread slightly under the desk, toes curling as Pope finishes the embalming in the back.

When a body comes in, she strips it with him. Slowly. Reverently. Sometimes she kisses their mouths before they stitch them shut.

She’ll perch on his lap, grinding against him while he fills out death certificates.

His pen never wavers.

He’s used to multitasking when it comes to her.

They’ve fucked on every surface in the funeral home. Pope pulling her panties to the side as she lays still in a coffin, his name in sign language against his chest.

When someone needs to be taken care of, Pope handles the messy part. The slicing. The draining. The disposing.

But Cherry? She watches. Sits pretty in the corner in her heels and sheer robe, legs spread just slightly.

She always starts touching herself when the blood hits the floor.

He doesn’t even stop her anymore.

Sometimes, mid slice, Pope will pull her to him, lift her onto the prep table, and fuck her with his gloves still on, the scent of formaldehyde in the air, the body still warm beside them.

He fucks her into the metal, making her cry without a sound, her mouth parted and breath fogging the cold surface while she scratches her nails into his back like a woman possessed.

She follows him everywhere in the mortuary, barefoot, in lingerie under see through gowns.

She keeps clippings of his hair in a silk pouch.

She once stole a photo of him and stitched it into her pillow.

She wears his boxers under her dresses. Leaves lipstick marks inside them before she puts them back.

Has a tiny tattoo on her inner lip his name, of course. Because she likes knowing she has his name inside her at all times.

She doesn’t exist without Pope. And she doesn’t want to.

He records her moans during sex and plays them while he works alone.

He keeps a necklace with one of her used lipsticks inside the pendant.

He has a photo of her asleep in a coffin. Naked. His handprint on her thigh. It’s locked in a drawer. He looks at it more than he should.

He talks about her like a ghost “She’s not like other girls. She’s mine. She’s sacred.”

He lays her on the autopsy table, straps her down “for fun,” and makes her wait until she’s crying mouth open, no sound, just shaking and dripping and needing.

He puts her in his lap during meetings with grieving clients. Her little hands busy beneath the desk while he pretends not to notice.

She’ll sit on his face in the viewing room, veil still over her face, the flickering candles the only witnesses.

She once laid herself inside a coffin and motioned for him to close the lid.

When he opened it again, she was touching herself, looking up at him with glassy eyes. He took her right there, next to the real corpse.

When she wants to be punished, she lays across the metal table and carves little marks into her stomach with a scalpel until he grabs her wrists and makes her stop.

Then he makes her beg with her body.

He bends her over his desk while the cremator roars. She whispers prayers while he pulls her hair.

She calls him “Popey” in that breathy, taunting voice when she’s on top, riding him like she’s summoning something darker than lust.

Sometimes, she slips into the mortuary at night with nothing but a robe on, climbs into the prep room while he’s embalming someone, and sits on the table next to the corpse legs spread, hair damp, eyes wide with sick devotion.

“Do me next,” she purrs.

“Practice on me.”

They’ve had sex on the casket lift, on cold steel tables, even in the hearse after a funeral.

Pope calls her “sick,” but he never stops her.

Because Cherry makes him feel alive.

And she’s the only one who really sees him.

A small exhale = I want you to ruin me.

Thumb on his wrist = We’re being watched.

A certain blink pattern = They’re lying. Kill them.

Tongue between her teeth while looking at him = Take me to the basement. Now.

Back arch, slow stretch, toe pointed = I need you. Right here.

Sometimes Pope will just be mid conversation with a grieving family, and

Cherry will glide past him, brushing her hip into his side slow, intentional. He’ll start talking faster.

His voice will catch. His palms will sweat.

The families think he’s just nervous. They have no idea he’s picturing her on her knees in the back.

Pope doesn’t just love her he worships her.

When the sun sets and the doors lock, he takes her downstairs and strips her slowly.

She always smells like roses, embalming fluid, and death. He buries his face between her thighs like she’s the altar and he’s praying for forgiveness.

She’s silent even when she comes, just trembles all over, her nails dragging blood raw lines down his back.

Sometimes she holds eye contact the entire time. Doesn’t blink once. It terrifies him.

He loves it.

She writes “MRS. POPE HEYWARD” over and over in her grimoire. Then she fingers herself over the page.

Red silk slip under a long black funeral dress.

Wet look lips, bitten raw and shiny.

Lacy white ankle socks in Mary Janes, or nothing at all.

Her eyes always look half lidded, like she’s just been kissed or just killed someone.

Under her dress bruises. Scratches. Bite marks. Pope’s fingerprints on her thighs like shadowy reminders of last night’s ritual.

Cherry doesn’t just see the dead. She seduces them. Talks to them in the cold embalming room like old lovers.

Says things like, “You should’ve let go, sweetheart. This world’s mean. I’ll make you beautiful again.”

She wears crucifix necklaces between her breasts, not because she believes in Jesus, but because she likes the look of holiness stretched across her sin. She prays after sex.

Not for forgiveness but for more. She says rosaries when she’s jealous. She lights candles and moans Pope’s name like he’s something to be summoned.

Every time they take care of a body, Cherry watches. She perches like a crow in the corner, barefoot, eyes wild.

She’ll run her hands across the dead’s arms like she’s reading them.

Then she’ll look at Pope and nod once.

This one deserved it.

You did good.

You can fuck me now.

She’s always soaked after they kill someone. It’s ritual. She fingers herself while he cleans the tools.

He can hear her from across the room, those soft, sticky wet sounds mixed with her quiet, needy hums.

Sometimes he joins her.

Sometimes he bends her over the sink and makes her moan without a voice.

They’re rotten. Sweet. Silent. Feral.

They are death and desire wrapped in silk and funeral fog. And when they look at each other, it’s like watching two wolves licking the blood from each other’s teeth.

They’re not in love.

They’re possessed.

[rubra-wav]

Husk x shy/insecure reader? Him helping reader be more confident and to stand up for themself!

Maybe even a lil scene where he calls them out for always agreeing to everything without second thought, calling them naive (and maybe stupid. He is a bit rough). They could react by either crying and confessing they hate conflict and thats why they do that, or they could whisper the confession (no tears, up to you).

Husk x shy/insecure reader : Above Whispers

A/N I wasn't sure if this was supposed to romantic or platonic so I went with platonic, sorry.

I NEED to remake this banner istg

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, Husker is tough loving in his callout (idk how to tag it properly)

- You'd been a resident of the hotel for several months, during this time catching the eye of the resident bartender.

- You quietly did as you were told, never raising your voice even when it was obvious you didn't want to do something or didn't agree with something someone was saying.

- Anything to avoid conflict.

- These things not only irritated the bartender about you but also concerned him.

- He'd pushed several times intentionally testing the waters with you, and you hadn't done a single thing against it, just going along with his will.

- A sinner like you would be taken advantage of sooner rather than later in hell, possibly even by certain other residents.

- On multiple occasions, he had forced more malevolent forces Alastor to stay away from you, but it was clear he'd be working himself until the end of time to keep you from falling into someone's clutches if you didn't actually change yourself.

- Despite Husk's more apathetic side telling him to stay out of it, he confronted you upon it after a long day of group activities, cornering you to speak with you.

- You looked up at Husk in slight discomfort as he stood in front of you in the shittily carpet lined hallway looking very serious. Despite being a rather cute looking demon, all things considered, he was still intimidating.

- "That whole time you were letting that overly obnoxious bleeding heart push you around like a lost puppy." Husk said bluntly.

- You jolted like you'd been zapped at his words, going to try and protest that you just didn't mind, really, but you were cut off short.

- "You aren't foolin' me with the 'oh it's fine' bullshit. Drop it and be honest." Husk took a step forward towards you, watching you starting to shake slightly, eyes going misty.

- You shuffled uncomfortably, looking away with clear discomfort, chest aching at being called out. You just wanted to disappear.

- "..You're right." Your lip quivered as you fought and failed to keep your voice from quivering like the rest of you. "I hate causing issues. It doesn't matter if I'm uncomfortable as long as there's no negative attention on me, I-"

- Husk's hand came to rest on your shoulder, cutting you off from rambling. You looked up to his yellow eyes, clearly a vision of irritation bordered by his bushy eyebrows. "You're naive and fucking stupid." He announced, startling you.

- You sighed heavily, a tear slowly sliding down your cheek. You slowly nodded in agreement after a couple of seconds of heavy silence, prompting the demon's ear to twitch.

- "Dont agree! Fight against me! You need to get over this complete avoidance of confrontation!" Husk pat his hand on your shoulder. "This shit in hell is just going to get you either shackled to someone for all eternity like I am or fucking killed!"

- You were surprised to watch him go from annoyance to seemingly being extremely concerned for your safety so quickly. Husk was concerned about showing as much as well, forcing his face to be a mask of indifference and taking his hand off of you.

- He looked back at you coolly as he turned away to leave. "Do what you want, but don't come crying to me when you end up owned. God knows I have enough suckers whining to me in this dump." He grumbled, walking away with heavy steps.

- You stood in place, thinking about his words and the actions from him that you now registered as him trying to help you out of the situations you had gotten yourself into.

- He was right, and you knew it. It wouldn't be easy to get yourself out of being a yes-man, but.. something inside you had the feeling the overly pessimistic bartender would help you through it.

- Husk on the other hand, was facepalming about it. He just knew he'd be cursing himself for caring about another one.

[fallen-abel]

So able what do you think about the Hotel?

Abel: *looks around* This place looks nice.

Charlie: *sees a new sinner* HI!!! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!! *takes a closer look* Wait…ABEL?! What are you doing here?! AND ADAM?! *noticed his smaller abdomen* Did you give birth?!

Abel: *looks uneasy*

Adam: *holds Abel close, unable to talk*

Lucifer: Charlie, sweetie, we need to have a talk.

Charlie: *sensing the tension* Oh yeah! Sure! Absolutely. I’ll uh…take you to my office!

The tension in the air was thick as Charlie guided the group into her office. The room was cozy and inviting, with warm lighting and mismatched furniture. Abel glanced around uneasily, still processing everything that had happened since his fall. Adam stayed close to him, his protective instincts kicking in, while Lucifer looked ashamed.

Charlie: *cheerfully, though her voice was tinged with nervousness* Alright! So, uh, what’s going on? Abel, why are you here? And Adam, did you really—?

Lucifer: Sweetheart, let’s take this one step at a time. There’s… a lot to unpack here.

Charlie nodded, sitting down behind her desk and gesturing for the others to take a seat. Abel hesitated but eventually settled into a chair, Adam sitting protectively beside him. Lucifer remained standing.

Lucifer: *with a sigh* First, Abel. As you’ve probably figured out, he’s… fallen. Heaven has cast him out.

Charlie: *eyes widening* What?! Why? Abel, what happened?

Abel: *looking down, his voice barely above a whisper* I… broke a law. I snuck my father into Heaven because he was hurt and pregnant. But now, it’s all gone. My wings, my halo, my place in Heaven.

Charlie’s heart broke at the pain in Abel’s voice. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

Charlie: I’m so sorry, Abel. That’s horrible. But you’re safe now, okay? We’ll figure this out.

Abel nodded weakly, but his expression was still haunted. Lucifer’s gaze softened slightly as he watched his son, but he quickly turned his attention to Adam.

Lucifer: And Adam… You gave birth in Heaven, didn’t you?

Adam’s jaw tightened, his hand clutching Abel’s shoulder protectively. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t respond, but then he let out a shaky breath.

Adam: I did. Sera… she took them from me. Said a sinner like me didn’t deserve to raise Heaven’s children. She sent me back to Hell after they were born.

Charlie: *horrified* She what?! That’s awful!

Adam’s grip on Abel tightened, his voice breaking as he continued.

Adam: I didn’t even get to hold them. I don’t know where they are, if they’re safe… And now Abel’s here. I failed him, too. I failed all of them.

Abel: *turning to Adam, his voice firm despite the tremble* No. You didn’t fail me. You’re my dad. You raised me, you loved me. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.

Adam’s eyes filled with tears, and he pulled Abel into a tight hug. Charlie watched them, her own eyes misty, before looking at Lucifer.

Lucifer: And this will be a kicker…Abel is your half brother Charlie.

Charlie: And Abel… he’s my half- brother?

Lucifer: *nodding, his voice steady but tinged with regret* Yes. Abel was born human more than 10,000 years ago. Adam is his biological father, but I carried him. When he was born, I left him with Adam and Eve to be raised on Earth. It was… easier that way.

Abel: *looking up at Lucifer* I…I’ve always known…

Adam: How? I never said anything!

Abel: You didn’t. Ma— I mean, Eve did. Many years ago. Said that I deserved to know.

Lucifer: *expression softened* I’ve regretted leaving you ever since. But I thought it was the best thing for you—to grow up human, away from the chaos of my life. Away from Hell.

Abel stared at him, a mixture of emotions swirling in his eyes. Before he could respond, Charlie spoke up, her tone gentle but determined.

Charlie: Okay, this is a lot. But we’re all here now, and we’re going to figure this out together. Abel, you’re family. And Adam, you’re family, too. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.

Adam and Abel both nodded, their expressions softening at Charlie’s kindness. Lucifer stepped closer, placing a hand on Abel’s shoulder, his golden eyes filled with a rare warmth.

Lucifer: She’s right. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone, Abel.

Abel: *reaches up and hugs Lucifer* Thank you…

Lucifer: *relaxes in his hold and returns the hug*

Charlie: Wow! I’ve always wanted siblings! And now I have 3 in less than a year! This is beautiful! *starts crying in Adam’s chest*

Adam: *feeling awkward* Whoa! Off! Get off!

[brimo5]

Why did Pirithous even decide it was a good idea to kidnap Persephone, the queen of the underworld, and then marry her?

The only explanation I always thought of was that he saw it as an act of glory; he was freeing the goddess from having to live in the underworld, only to quickly realize that she wasn't a prisoner but a literal queen.

All I can say is that his behavior comes from a very stupid and hilarious idea🤣

[Noble Mel]eager, son of the wise Oineus, I will tell you exactly.[Pirithous has been greatly misled by] the grim goddess Erinys: [he has come to seek] illustrious Persephone, saying that Zeus whose sport is the thunderbolt [has given approval, and according to the go]ds' customs, to contract for her as his wife. For they too are said to woo their glorious sisters, and make love to them out of sight of their dear [parents. So] he is eager to contract a marriage from among the blessed ones—his own sister from the same father; for he [claims] he is closer kin than great Hades to Persephone, the daughter of lovely-haired Demeter. For he says he is her brother, of one father, while Hades is her dear uncle. It was for that he said he was going down to the misty dark. (M.L. West, Greek Epic Fragments, Minyas fr. 7)

According to Hyginus, it wasn't the Erinys but Jove who ordered them to act in a dream, or they just made this excuse up in front of Pluto.

When Jove saw that they had such audacity as to expose themselves to danger, he bade them in a dream both go and ask Pluto on Pirithous' part for Proserpine in marriage. When they had descended to the Land of the Dead through the peninsula Taenarus, and had informed Pluto why they had come, they were stretched out and tortured for a long time by the Furies. (Hyginus, Fabulae, 79)

Yet, they were punished far less severely than other sinners in Tartarus. One headcanon I actually had was that the chthonic gods basically treated them like bad comedians and trapped them in chairs for everyone's amusement. Pirithous and Theseus are so idiot couple that I'll never be able to take this as a serious story.

[thesoldiersminute]

🌸 FAVORITE FIRST WATCHES OF APRIL 🌸

I was tagged by the wonderful @talesfromthecrypts to post my favorite first watches from last month <3

Warfare (2025) dir. Alex Garland & Ray Mendoza

Sinners (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler

Last Breath (2025) dir. Alex Parkinson

Love Lies Bleeding (2024) dir. Rose Glass

Sanctuary (2022) dir. Zachary Wigon

Opus (2025) dir. Mark Anthony Green

tagging: @userparamore @losthavenmine @misty-quigley @evilvvithin @hellboys @hexcoreviktor

[ambertrulife]

RadioApple One-Shot - You're worth it.

Hello, everyone! I hope you are all well! Below is a short OS I wrote based on an idea I had recently.

However, I would like to warn you that this OS deals with some heavy topics that some may find treated lightly. If that is the case, I apologize. That was not my intention.

In any case, I hope you enjoy the story!

Lucifer laughed merrily as he took another drink from Husk, smiling away. Angel, who had accompanied him, pounded his fists on the table, as if what he'd said was the funniest thing in the world. The King was glad to be in the lobby, where they could talk loudly without disturbing the rest of the Hotel.

The evening had started very, very badly. Following an altercation with that stupid, egocentric Radio Demon, he'd been moping around in dark thoughts. As he thought back to his wife, to his life before, to the Garden of Eden, to his brothers and sisters, he felt the weight of depression weighing down his soul, and he knew it was dangerous. He recognized the feeling. He disgusted himself with this urgent, unattainable need, like a whisper singing death music in your ear. It was out of the question.

Not here, not now, not ever.

He didn't want his daughter to see his lifeless body. He refused to stay in a coma for more than a month while his immortal body regenerated. He rejected out of hand the explanations he would have to give his daughter to explain how he knew it wasn't definitive.

He then decided to go to the bar. He knew Husk would be there, no doubt about it. The bartender was very involved in his work, especially when it came to emptying his own bottles on the sly. He'd once told Lucifer that this was to keep Charlie from thinking the bar should be closed. He wanted to show him that it worked. Lucifer understood that it was more a question of addiction than anything else, but he let it slide. He could literally create as much alcohol as he needed, and who was he to judge Husk on how he'd forgotten his weaknesses?

He hadn't expected to see Angel, though. He was sure he'd have to spend the night at work, but when he saw him there, eyes misty with tears, drink in hand, he sensed he shouldn't insist. It looked like there would be three of them tonight destroying themself. So they started drinking. A lot. As soon as they'd finished one bottle, they'd start another, talking about happy, superficial subjects. What a beautiful season in Hell! Oh, did you know that this one had slept with this one? No, but you won't believe what I saw the other day!

It felt good, Lucifer couldn't hide it. Deep down, he knew it wouldn't help the problem. But he couldn't help trying to forget. For some reason, they'd come upon a rather hot topic. Yes, he knew the source of the conversation: Angel. Angel had wondered who was the best kisser in the Hotel. Lucifer agreed to debate, specifying that he wouldn't be talking about Charlie or Vaggie - it was too weird. Angel nodded approvingly; there seemed to be a limit to the sinner's perversion.

So they started talking. They immediately eliminated Niffty. Neither of them had kissed her, but they had the impression that she was too quick, too impulsive to really settle down and share this moment of intimacy. She wouldn't go any deeper, wouldn't bring any sensuality. Definitely a No-No for the three of them.

Husk also eliminated himself, to Lucifer's surprise. He explained that his previous conquests had never liked these kisses, saying he was too gruff, too neutral towards them. When he thought about it, it seemed logical. Husk didn't really show passion except when he was drinking. Besides, his philosophy of life made him seem too detached. Angel thought for a few seconds before sighing: he was probably right. The porn star laughed as he asked if he could call one of his exes to confirm the story, which made Husk chuckle. He couldn't even remember their names, let alone their numbers!

Lucifer asked Angel for Cherri and the debate began in earnest. The final candidates were the Cyclops, the porn star and the King of Hell. The discussion was going well before Lucifer's mind - God punished him every day for this - scattered. He then said aloud that they hadn't even talked about Alastor. Husk had gone tetchy, his ears flattening on his head as if the sword of Damocles had just grazed him. Angel seemed just as uncomfortable and, seeing that Lucifer didn't understand, explained that he wouldn't venture on the subject, fearing too much the Overlord's wrath.

This annoyed Lucifer. How was it that these sinners were more afraid to talk about that stupid Stag than about him? Inwardly, he knew it was just because the King was more open about the matter, but that didn't stop his heart from filling with rage at the mention of the other man. He then debated the subject himself, making sure he was the only one saying obscenities. At first, Husk and Angel were uncomfortable, but understanding that the King was taking full responsibility for his words, they relaxed and listened to Lucifer ramble on. Finally, he concluded that, given Alastor's obvious distaste for sentiment, he probably wouldn't be any good at it. He added that these kisses should probably resemble a cow grazing on grass. When he imitated the movement, the two sinners burst out laughing. He joined in.

"May I ask what all this hilarity is about?" suddenly declared a dangerous yet melodious voice that Lucifer particularly detested, especially at this moment. He turned towards his origin and wasn't the least bit surprised to see the Radio Demon right in front of him, as if he'd just appeared out of thin air. This must have been the case, when he heard the sound of breaking glass and overturned stools that informed him of Husk and Angel's surprise. However, he didn't give the Demon the pleasure of looking stunned, which seemed to irritate him all the more. A feeling of pleasure took hold of his soul as, with a provocative smile on his lips, he turned fully towards the Stag, elbows on the bar, legs crossed.

"Well!" he exclaimed, sarcastically "Speaking of the wolf, here comes the deer! What are you doing here, bellboy?"

"It just so happens that I'm trying to do my radio show, Your Majesty," Alastor threatened with class "And that when I look at my equipment, it tells me that even though I'm in a soundproof studio, there's background noise."

He glanced furiously at the other two sinners before resting on Lucifer.

"I take off my helmet and what do I hear?" he continued rather theatrically, although the rage could be read in his features "The voice of that annoying little nuisance the King of Hell! And I'm literally standing on the opposite side of the room, high above him!”

"Oh, stop it!" chuckled the King, as if ridiculed "I don't make that much noise!"

"You'll ask your daughter," Alastor retorted, scathingly, "When you have to explain to her why you were talking about the Hotel residents' lips."

Lucifer blinked rapidly as he glanced at Husk and Angel, who were looking pale.

"Was I that loud?" he asked the other two.

"To be honest, I don't think so," Angel says with a shrug, "but if he says so."

"I affirm it." growled Alastor, in order to turn the King's attention back on himself, which worked. The latter frowned, then raised his eyes to Heaven with a sigh.

"Well, OK!" he yielded "I'll lower my voice, is that okay?"

"Perfect," agreed the Demon, but he didn't move, as if waiting for something else. The King was surprised.

"Are you waiting for me to dismiss you?" sneered Lucifer, emphasizing the word. He knew Alastor would take it badly, and he was right.

"Ah!" laughed the Stag heartlessly, his gaze burning his skin with anger "As if I needed that!"

"So, what do you want?" questioned the King again, his face contorted into a grimace "You're ruining the evening!"

"That you answer the question." growled Alastor again. Lucifer raised his eyebrows.

"What question?" he asked.

"What's so funny about my undeniable disinterest in this hideously repulsive emotional gesture?" repeated the Demon, his voice doubled by the radio effect, which proved his genuine annoyance.

Lucifer was confused and tilted his head to one side. Did he want him to explain the joke?

"Well, you're a deer ."he said. This seemed to shock the rest of the assembly. He frowned. "So deer graze. So you have to kiss like a cow. You realize that explaining the joke to you is much less charming than trying to understand it on your own?"

"Will you stop taking me for a fool, you ridiculous angelic clown?" snapped Alastor at last, as those antlers began to grow and his aura invaded the lobby. He heard Husk's groan of fright. He didn't really understand why. Frankly, to those divine eyes, it sounded more like a child throwing a tantrum. Then again, Charlie was more impactful.

"So don't beat around the bush and tell me what you want," Lucifer sighed calmly, in contrast to the Demon. It didn't make the situation any easier.

"Why are you making fun of skills I don't have?" continued the Stag, his voice so distorted by radio sounds that he wondered how it was even possible for him to understand him. He stuck his little finger in his ear, trying to remove the plug that had formed.

"Why do you care so much?" retorted the King. This seemed to cut some of the Demon's panache. "You can't be good at everything, bellboy!"

Alastor's eyes didn't turn away from Lucifer, although for a split second he seemed to question himself, which was so rare that Lucifer realized it was the first time this had happened. Nevertheless, he regained his composure.

"You don't have the right to attack me in an area I don't master," replied the Demon acerbically, and this genuinely made the King laugh, as he raised his hand to physically demonstrate these points. He raised his first finger.

"So, little one!" he listed "It wasn't an assault considering you weren't supposed to hear it!" He held up a second finger "Little two! Are you seriously telling me that there are rules to our arguments? And that you're only allowed to make fun of what I'm supposed to master? That's so much bad faith, I feel like I'm going to go into an alcoholic coma!" He shook his third finger defiantly as he leaned forward. "And three ! If it bothers you that much, you can prove me wrong, Bambi."

He expected Alastor to retort, to try to attack him, to even try to break him more than he had earlier in the evening. To be honest, alcohol and depression only made him angrier. The bastard had managed to bring him lower than dirt. He'd brought him to the brink of unforgiveness and now he was complaining about the consequences of his actions? Quite frankly, he'd never known anyone as insufferable as him!

And just as unpredictable. For he'd thought of every possibility, all but one! That he should respond to the provocation. Yet that's what the Demon did, savagely grabbing his face with those claws to draw him against those lips. He was so surprised that he let the Demon quickly take over and ...

Only cow. He quickly closed his eyes and enjoyed the sinner's lips and tongue. However determined, the beginning of the kiss was rather shaky, clearly guided by rage and inexperience. Yet there was something about it, he just didn't know what. The taste those lips was fantastic, a mixture of old and new that went to his head, like an invigorating rather than melancholy nostalgia. With a groan, Lucifer put his hand on the man's neck to draw him to him. The Demon suddenly felt more confident, and this became absolutely exquisite. He settled between those thighs, allowing the angel to rest his hand on his hip as Alastor guided the dance inside their mouths, as if he were doing a waltz and leading the tempo. Lucifer followed him willingly, carried away by passionate feelings. He didn't know how long it had lasted. He couldn't decide whether he thought it had been too quick or whether one second had lasted an eternity.

By the time the Demon broke the kiss, they were both out of breath. The King reopened his eyes to observe the man staring at him with many conflicting feelings that he was unable to analyze. His mind was clouded by alcohol, but when the realization of what had just happened hit him at the same time as the Stag, he felt it become absolutely and perfectly crystal-clear again. He didn't know what to do. He didn't understand what had happened. He had to react, and fast. Say something intelligent.

"Fuck, tell me this isn't the first time you've done this," he ordered in a deep voice. He'd never been good at improvisation.

"My mother always said I was a quick learner when..." began the Demon before stopping abruptly, cut off by his own Radio sounds as horror froze on his face. Lucifer had to seize the moment. A way out, an insult that would get the Stag off its back and running!

"Wait, you've already done this with your mother?" he asked. Perfect, he congratulated himself, stick to that logic!

Alastor grunted and spontaneously stepped aside. Lucifer's hands soon found themselves with nothing left to hold, and he hated the fact that he missed it.

"I'm not a Greek god!" he snarled.

"Are you sure? Because you're a divine kisser," Lucifer retorted, his cheeks turning yellow with heat as he spoke. So much for logic.

Alastor didn't even bother to reply, his face frozen in a mask of pure disgust before he slipped away into the shadows. A silence lingered in the room after his departure.

"Fuck, I'm hard." a voice finally said. He turned to it, like the third person in the hall. He received a piercing and imploring look.

"Don't ever tell him that," Husk begged.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, he cursed his angelic constitution for what had happened. He was sure Angel and Husk wouldn't remember the night. He'd been through this before with Lilith, when they partied at Belzebuth's house. His wife never remembered the parties, the hangover and amnesia hitting her every time she drank too much. All he had was a hangover. His heart ached as he thought of her, and tears automatically sprang to his eyes. As he lay in bed, he questioned his life choices. He sighed before sinking into these dark thoughts and stood up. He figuratively left them behind as he got ready for breakfast.

He didn't really know what strategy to use. Nobody knew that he couldn't lose memories. It was his curse, his eternal punishment. Charlie herself didn't know, and how could she, since he'd never told her. He wanted to apologize to his daughter for disturbing him during the evening with these salacious discussions, but to do so was tantamount to admitting that he could at least remember and that, by deduction, he knew what had happened. Now, knowing Angel, he'd want to know especially depending on where his memory stopped of the conversation they'd had that night. And, if he did end up confessing what had happened, the shame would eat away at him as he confessed the evening's events to everyone, including a certain egocentric asshole, which would definitely lead to a discussion he didn't want to have.

So he decided the wisest thing to do was to wait for his daughter to talk to him, ask him to stop being noisy, apologize properly and tell him he wouldn't do it again. That way, no one would know, except for the Stag. And he was sure, if not certain, that he didn't want to have this conversation. It was perfect. Great plan. He had to stick to it.

He silenced the little voice that reminded him how it had ended the last two times he'd tried to follow a plan, just a few hours before, and left his room to head for the kitchen.

Not surprisingly, he was the last person around the table. Charlie, Vaggie and Alastor were beaming on this early morning, while Husk and Angel, already present, were grimacing in pain. It wasn't as if he hadn't anticipated it. He moved to the last seat at the end of the table, next to Angel, who gave him a weak wave.

"Hello, little King." he greeted, holding out his fist. He raised an eyebrow and sat down as Angel grumbled as he lowered it. Had the sinner just threatened him as he said hello?

"Hey." he grunted softly. Luckily for him, he didn't have to fake the pain. It was real. Husk handed him a wafer and Lucifer frowned.

"Hangover pills", the bartender clarified. He smiled slightly and took the tablet, thanking him with a small shake of the head that he immediately regretted. He groaned and put a hand to his temple as Charlie looked on, sympathetic.

"Did you have a nice evening?" she asked, gently. He would have taken her in his arms to throw her the pole. He promised himself he'd do it later.

"Surely? I hope?" he whispered "I can't remember ..."

"Oh, you too?" pestered Angel as he glared at him. Lucifer hissed through his teeth as he took one of those pills.

"Yep," confirmed the King. He mimed a reflection before sighing. "Nothing at all. How about you?"

"Y’already know the answer," ironized the porn star before resting his head on the table as Husk shook his head negatively. He rubbed between his eyes before wincing in pain as he heard extremely high-pitched static noises.

"Ah!" laughed Alastor happily as he intervened for the first time. His sadistic grin informed the room that he had just passed this frequency on purpose. Lucifer gave him an annoyed look, to which he responded defiantly. He was sarcastically pleased to see that the Stag had sponged off the evening. It would appear that their interaction hadn't disrupted his night, or changed anything about the bastard. "I'll never understand people's visceral need to get drunk!"

This made Lucifer's jaw tense and his daughter seemed to sense his annoyance as she immediately intervened.

"Oh, come on, Alastor!" she exclaimed loudly before her face changed to embarrassment when she saw the grimaces of the three partygoers. She continued much more quietly, "They were just having fun! Nobody minded!"

The Demon laughed again, which irritated the King even more.

"They most certainly disturbed me!" he retorted as he leaned toward his daughter "No need to lie, dear!"

Charlie seemed genuinely confused, which intrigued Lucifer.

"What do you mean?" she asked. The King saw a gleam of mistrust in the Demon's eyes, as if he too sensed that something was amiss.

"You must be a heavy sleeper, darling!" he teased her "Didn't you hear them?"

"She does, indeed." agreed Vaggie, suspiciously "But I don't and nothing woke me up."

Alastor showed nothing on his features, but for a thousandth of a second Lucifer detected his gaze resting on him, questioning. The King did not act as if nothing had happened, as he was waiting for the rest of the conversation.

"Here I am, out of luck!" complained the Stag as he dabbed his napkin over those lips. Lucifer held back from pinching his own at the memory of how they tasted, and only saw a few seconds later that the Demon was watching him as he made the gesture.

"Cut the crap, Alastor," the former exorcist snapped, "it's impossible that you could hear them but not me. I was closer."

The Demon gave her a venomous look. Charlie, sensing the rising tension, stepped in again to maintain a certain mediation.

"Come on!" she calmed, a tight smile on her lips "They must have left the door open! That's probably why!"

This was not the case. Lucifer remembered the scene perfectly and the door was closed. Alastor knew it too, he was sure of it. He'd only had to look at the little twinkle in his eyes to know that he was pondering the situation. Assuming that the door was open and that this was possible, it still didn't add up that Vaggie hadn't heard anything. It didn't make sense.

The King knew that Alastor was an inveterate liar and untrustworthy, but his confusion, though very well concealed, was real. It cost him to admit it, but he believed him when he said he'd heard them. That left the question of why. Lucifer thought hard, his eyebrows furrowed. He could only think of one answer, but it wasn't possible. He couldn't have called him without realizing it, could he? He couldn't have sent him voice into his studio unconsciously!

However, the more he searched his memory, the more he realized it was possible. He was under the influence of alcohol, and could have inadvertently carried his voice to his studio. The drink would have dictated his will and he would have brought these words to the Stag's ears. But why? Alastor had said he'd have to justify to Charlie talking about residents' lips, which meant he'd minimally conveyed that part of the conversation to him, with enough dispute for the Demon to understand they were talking about kissing skills.

Oh, it was even more awkward now that he had this information. If he'd called him, Lucifer must have wanted him to hear it. He pushed out of his mind the reasons why he had drawn the Demon's attention.

"You must be right, dear," Alastor agreed, but no one was fooled. They could clearly see he wasn't convinced. Vaggie wanted to protest, but remained silent under Charlie's insistent gaze. Alastor now rose from the table.

"Still, I've got a busy day ahead of me!" he enthused as he cleared his plate. Lucifer watched him for a moment before Alastor gave him a pointed, provocative look: "Some people have important things to do and no time for headaches!"

Angel groaned again and Husk said nothing, but the King suspected it was more to do with his fear than a lack of restraint. He had no such problem.

"Let's just say that I can do them even when I'm brought along, whereas you need all your concentration for that," Lucifer retorted. Alastor's smile turned carnivorous, as if he'd taken the bait.

"And you're saying that royal tasks don't require cognition?" he scoffed and Lucifer growled.

It had been almost too easy for him, but he was going to give him the point. The King was too tired, he had too much of a headache to lose it in repartee as usual. What's more, he'd won without Alastor even knowing. He'd hidden his lack of amnesia perfectly, they'd never speak of the affair again and the memory of that kiss would eventually fade.

"If you say so, Bambi." he laughed, before tetanizing at the realization of his mistake.

Several things happened at once, but only one really captivated him. He heard Angel's laughter at the new nickname. He glimpsed the smile in his peripheral vision of Vaggie and Husk and the disapproving look on Charlie's face. However, that wasn't what resonated in his head and froze in front of those eyes.

The sound, that of a plate falling brutally into the sink, and the face, the angry yet extremely proud face of a hunter who had just caught his prey. Lucifer then saw the signs, the clues in the very natural conversation he'd been having to guide him to this conclusion.

Crap. Alastor had won.

______________________________________________________________

He wanted to hole up in his room, put on some magic protection and give no one a chance to get in. Well, maybe only Charlie, but still. However, he knew that wasn't the solution.

He couldn't run. He wasn't supposed to. He didn't want to run anymore.

If his daughter had taught him anything, it was that he shouldn't be afraid anymore and that he had to fight. That it was never too late to start again. That he had to accept change. But he wasn't as strong as he was.

A tear beaded from his eyes as he stood in the corridor on the top floor, close to his door. He'd excused himself after lunch, saying he had work to do too. It was true, but his head wasn't in it. He took a breath and quickly brushed away the tear running down his cheek, catching his breath to control himself.

What had she taught him again? Say compliments out loud? Like "I'm beautiful, I'm smart"? He tried to calm the sadness that gripped his heart.

"You're beautiful," he announced.

You bet. It was something he'd been told all his life, from birth until a few days ago when Niffty had named him "handsome bad boy". He'd never understood why. Charlie was beautiful. He was strange. He wasn't human. Besides, he didn't tick any boxes in today's canons of beauty. He took a breath.

"You're smart." he continued, his voice barely audible.

It was all the same. If he was, how could he have been so easily fooled all his life? From his latest mistake to his first, from his confession to Alastor to his original mistake. If he had to be sincere, even before that. He'd never been the mastermind, the thinker. He was a follower, not a leader. The only time he took the initiative, the only time he decided, he failed because he couldn't see beyond the tip of his non-existent nose. He tried to banish these thoughts again.

"You're worth ..." he began, but his voice stopped in mid-sentence.

It wasn't true. He put his hands over those eyes. He knew it wasn't true.

"It?" finished a voice softly from behind him.

He didn't flinch when he heard it, just sighed. This was his destiny. He knew it. His divine punishment.

"What do you want?" he asked Alastor softly, defeated. He didn't turn around, and this apparently strained the Demon as the static around him began to build.

"The least you can do is face me," he retorted, and Lucifer sighed.

"I don't have the strength to listen to your bullshit," he said.

"And I don't have any to repeat," the Demon almost spat.

The Angel sighed and started towards the door of his room. He needed to be alone, not have to put up with these moods. He couldn't take many steps, however, because in two pirouettes, the Stag was in front of him.

The King watched him carefully. The man's face was closed, his smile toothless and his eyes venomous. He was angry, everything about his stance and demeanor showed. However, for a second, a small gleam passed through his irises that intrigued the Angel. Suddenly, his expression became more carnivorous, as if he were about to devour him alive.

"Would you stop this childishness and behave like an adult?" he asked, which stung Lucifer.

"I'm a millennial, bellboy." he grinned "I'm more of an adult than you'll ever be."

"Oh?" the Demon almost meowed, raising a defiant eyebrow "So, can you tell me why you defy authority like a delinquent teenager?"

Lucifer twitched at the name and his lips tightened.

"Authority?" he quoted him "And you're seriously telling me, the King of Hell, that I defy the law?"

"Well," replied Alastor, looking at his fingernails, "technically speaking, you're currently on your daughter's property. Now, being the Princess of Hell and in view of her rehabilitation project, I'd say that makes this Hotel a neutral place and therefore, quite distinct from the kingdom."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

"What you're saying doesn't make sense," he reproached.

"Ah!" laughed Alastor as he rested his hand on his cane to stare at him "It's not my fault your limited mind can't encompass the complexity of territorial rules."

"This is my kingdom, asshole!" cried Lucifer.

"Oh, so that means it's your Hotel?" he asked, leaning forward with a mocking grin.

"No!" retorted the King.

"Then that doesn't invalidate my theory," Alastor replied, straightening up with a proud smile.

Lucifer was confused and suddenly, without really knowing why, he started laughing. A genuine, heartfelt laugh. It slowly began to light up his soul and for a split second, he realized what Alastor was doing. In his own absolute, undeniably twisted way, the bastard was cheering him up, and he couldn't understand why it was working.

"You're completely sick," he finally observed, his hands on his belly to hold back the remaining muscle spam.

"Say the one who just had a giggle," replied Alastor and his expression softened, almost relieved.

They remained in an awkward silence before Alastor sighed.

"Can we have a conversation now?" he asked, and Lucifer bit his lip as he looked away.

"Isn't it already?" he returned, causing Alastor to sigh again.

"Your Majesty..." he began, and the King looked up at the sky. He heard the static of a radio, but paid no attention to it.

"No, yeah, OK, you're right." he cut him off. He placed his hands on the back of his neck before lowering his chin and looking up at him. "Get started."

The Demon was about to retort, but he held back by pursing his lips, and Lucifer was absolutely fascinated by the gesture. He hated himself for it.

"The other night." began Alastor "A few things happened and I want to clarify the situation."

Lucifer nodded but remained silent. The Stag looked at him for a moment.

"Why have you summoned me?" he finally asked, and the King closed his eyes, gently licking his lower lip. The sound repeated itself. Decidedly, Alastor didn't like it when he diverted his attention from the conversation.

"I didn't do it on purpose," he admitted. There was no point in hiding the truth from him. He was smart and could read him as easily as he read a newspaper. “I was drunk and we started talking about it. I thought of you. I contacted you. It wasn't..." he cut himself off before sighing "It wasn't a summons."

"I see." the tone of Alastor's voice was neutral.

A new silence fell over them as Lucifer wanted to ask his question. He didn't know where it might lead and the fear of knowing what would happen next paralyzed him. He massaged the back of his neck, looking away to think, which provoked another sound. He winced.

"Okay!" he grumbled "Okay, I'm coming! Geez!"

He received no response from the Demon, only an almost unearthly silence. He pondered his next words wisely, and finally opted for the solution that seemed easiest to manage.

"Listen." he said finally "Yesterday, I wasn't in my normal state, let's say. I provoked you, you responded to my provocation, I responded inappropriately and you left. It didn't mean a thing..."

"For you." cut in Alastor suddenly, causing a feeling of surprise and something else he'd rather keep quiet in his stomach.

"What?" he asked, eloquently.

"I don't allow you to speak on my behalf," said the Demon.

"Why? Does that mean it was for you?" questioned Lucifer, those golden eyes set on his.

Another silence, and this time it was Alastor who looked away. The King waited for some sort of response from the Stag, but none came. He bit his lip in frustration and once again the sound came. He frowned: yet it was looking at him? When the Demon rested his eyes on him, they burned with destructive fire.

"Stop it." he ordered as Lucifer cocked his head to one side.

"Stop what?" he asked, and suddenly the unthinkable happened.

Alastor reached out, grabbed his arm and pulled him to place his lips fervently on his. This caught him so off guard that, like the first time, he let Alastor lead the way. The beginning was the best of what they'd left last night, and continued in a similar vein. Lucifer groaned deeply at such delight, which elicited a guttural grunt from Alastor. Pleasure crawled through Lucifer's body and he couldn't stop, continuing as long as he could. When the Demon withdrew to catch his breath, he moved closer to keep a tiny touch between them, giving him time to take two breaths before continuing what they'd started. He was unaware of the closeness of their bodies, of those hand on the Demon's cheeks, forbidding him to withdraw, of Alastor's caressing his back with fervor and need.

He couldn't say how long this merry-go-round continued before they finally stopped. Not that he didn't still want to, and when he finally opened his eyes to look at the Stag, he knew he felt the same way. He swallowed hard, his heart racing in his chest. The man in front of him... those blood-red eyes... He knew what he had to do, and it was killing him. And that was the problem.

He began to move away, withdrawing from his hold as Alastor closed his eyes, as if he knew what was about to happen.

"I..." began Lucifer before wrapping his arms around himself, tears beginning to well up as he pulled himself together. "No. We. We can't. We're toxic for each other, you know that."

"I can't understand how you make me feel," Alastor agreed as he turned away, staring out of the window.

"And you have far too much influence over my moods." finished Lucifer before finally chuckling, suddenly realizing something "It's not that we're toxic for each other. It's that we're not ready."

"If you say so." sighed Alastor. Lucifer looked up at him. He merely shrugged. "I'm an Overlord, Your Majesty. Any contact I've made with others is toxic."

The King felt a twinge of guilt at this revelation, but he understood what Alastor meant. He manipulated crowds, abused others, mistreated all who came near him. Having a healthy relationship wasn't something he knew how to do. Lucifer understood this. He even let out a little laugh, which caught the Demon's attention once again. Attention he'd never lost, he realized.

"And to think I'm this close to agreeing to that." he quipped and the Stag tensed. He gave him a slightly teasing look, "Don't worry, I'm not going to."

They remained in silence for some time, the silence heavy and almost unbearable. Eventually, Alastor regained the upper hand, putting back on a much fiercer mask than the one he had abandoned when he had comforted him.

"Well," he commented, "now that the situation is clarified, it turns out I actually have some work waiting for me."

He bowed slightly.

"Your Majesty." he said, in a flat tone.

"Bellboy." replied the latter, as his mind began to wander back to obscure thoughts.

Alastor turned and headed for his apartments, while Lucifer watched him walk away. Suddenly, he heard his voice echoing down the corridor.

"You are the Morning Star, so bright that you dazzle space and erase the blackness of nothingness, bringing the most stubborn of men out of the cave. You're bright, fast and as elusive as the rays that illuminate every corner of the souls that inhabit Hell. It would be madness to think that a single person in this universe would consider the good fortune to have lived on the same plane of existence as you as a blemish."

When he finished his little monologue, he returned to his apartments, leaving Lucifer alone in the corridor. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he summed up what he'd just said.

You're beautiful. You're smart. You're worth it.

Not bad for someone toxic.

[angelicadamposting]

Missy Misery₍ᐢᐢ₎| Overlord of Obsession 

art credit to mr.artzy.shrimp on instagram !

Real Name: Misty Landry (not dead name) Preferred Name: Missy Misery  Species: Jackalope Demon / Sinner / Overlord* (Formerly Human) Sin: Wrath / Pride (+ others that aren’t one of the main 7) Physical Age: 39 Birth Date: July 13, 1894 Zodiac: Cancer  Death Year: 1933 Cause of Death: Shot in the head, alongside Alastor Height: 5'5 MBTI: ENFJ  Gender & Pronouns: She/Her - Transwoman  Sexuality: Gray-Asexual (Hetero-romantic) Romantic Interest(s): Alastor <3 and Vox * = Overlord of Obsession

Short Facts

Overlord of Obsession and Love

Alastor’s wife, though not legally due to the time

Killed her father

Born on a Friday the 13th (1984 July)

Was/is a cannibal 

A listener of Alastor’s radio broadcasts before ever meeting him

Sang/Performed at Mimzy’s bar/speakeasy in life

Met Alastor at Mimzy’s bar, introduced by their mutual friend. 

Currently an actress in film, commercials, and musicals for Vox.

After Alastor’s disappearance, Vox offers her a contract that would provide protection from other overlords and her dream job. She works beneath him the whole seven years Alastor is missing until the pilot/main series.

Growing to obsess over Vox before Alastor suddenly reappears. 

Is not technically a part of the Vees, but lives in the tower with them.

Adores Nifty and gets along well with Husk, surprisingly. 

Initially inspired by the song 'There's No Business Like Showbusiness.' & a lot of Ethel Merman's discography.

Likes♡

Acting

Music 

Singing

Needlepoint, Sewing & Crochet 

Tea

Red Wine

Romance Novels

Graphic 'Design' / Art

Painting 

Dancing (Swing Dancing Particularly)

Classy Fashion / Period Pieces

Fur Boas / Shawls / Coats

Decor Made From (human) Remains

Home Design / Decor 

Scrapbooking …

Dislikes‹/𝟹

Being Alone

Being Belittled or Disrespected

Clutter

The Ticking of a Clock

Black Coffee

Her Schedule Being Changed

People with Poor Time Management Skills

Open Windows

Over The Head Headphones

Being Touched Without Express Permission

Hypocrites

Unsophisticated People

Modeling 

Modern Dance Styles (Hip Hop / “whatever it is JuJuVi does”)

Personality Traits 

Positive – Affectionate, Analytical, Glamorous, Confident, Classy, Charming, Alluring, Elegant, Creative, Adaptable, Decisive, Efficient, Organized, Loyal, Mature, Somewhat Kind, Passionate, Perceptive, Private, Professional, Sentimental, Emotional, Responsible, Sophisticated, Talented, Wise, and Witty

Negative – Obsessive, Wrathful, Prideful, Vengeful, Apathetic, Catty, Cynical, Fanatical, Greedy, Often Grumpy, Impatient, Jealous, Possessive, Judgemental, Know-It-All, Morbid, Nagging, Stubborn, Violent, Workaholic

Backstory (before Hell)

Missy was born in 1895 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana as (Marcel) Misty Landry to an alcoholic father and mother who would die shortly after childbirth. She grew up being raised by her father to be like him and work within the agricultural realm of work-- Much to her dismay.

From a young age and when radios were popularized, beginning to pop up in houses across the states, Missy was enthralled with the music and talking people from within the box. Music inspired her from a young age to go against the grain and figure out who she was- not who her father 'needed' her to be.

In high school, she began to understand that she was a woman. The revelation was jarring, and a secret she kept close. Many things were not accepted where she grew up, and being different wasn't one.

Her father, while unaware of her newfound identity, did anything but respect his child. Noticing whenever Missy had begun practicing singing and dance instead of her household chores, only to ridicule her for being a pansy and some much worse insults. When he drank, he'd somehow be nicer- and weaker. Something Missy would take advantage of when committing patricide for her first homicide after enduring his mistreatment her entire life up to said point. It wasn't done out of anger, or heat of the moment- no. It was planned, calculated, and thought over for weeks before she took the opportunity to escape from beneath his thumb. The taste of his blood was not one she'd ever forget. As bitter and horrid as it was, the satisfaction it brought her was more than enough.

Missy had been closeted the majority of her life until her father 'passed away' when she was 21. She inherited his debt and responsibilities as the "man of the house" and the last of her family line. Rather than pick up the mantle, live in the closet for the rest of her days, and die unhappy- She moved several towns over to New Orleans and began to present more femininely whenever she could, calling herself Misty when she did so that anytime she did have to present as her legal/birth identity there'd be little to no association. Essentially living a double life. As Marcel, she would work as a men's tailor, and as Misty, she'd sing from bar to bar. That is until she found one bar that regularly asked her to return.

It was at this particular speakeasy that Missy would first meet Mimzy, another performer at the bar. The two became quick friends, and truthfully Mimzy was Missy's first 'girl friend.' (non-romantic) Mimzy was the first person in life to learn of Missy's gender identity, and surprisingly the first person to accept her for who she was. Mimzy helped inspire Missy to go on as herself, giving her confidence and helping her find her own voice.

It was around this time that Missy would first hear Alastor's radio broadcasts. By total chance, flipping through stations as she sat in her kitchen preparing a pot of tea, his voice poured through the speakers and ignited her interest. She quickly began to tune into all of his broadcasts, even adjusting her schedule to ensure she didn't miss any time he was on air. To put it frankly, she became somewhat of a near-obsessive 'fangirl' if anything even without knowing the man behind the charismatic voice and fake mid-Atlantic accent.

What Missy was unaware of though, was that soon after she began listening to him- Alastor would soon see her sing at the bar after one of Mimzy's stellar performances. And while he was nowhere near as intrigued by her as she was by him, he did soon ask Mimzy about her little friend. Mimzy, being the great friend she was, was eager to introduce the two- seeing as she knew just how much Missy was obsessed with Al's radio show. Missy easily hid how she instantly recognized his voice, greeting him politely like he was any other customer. And yet, he asked her to dance in between her stage times.

After that night, Missy continued to make her efforts to listen to each of his broadcasts. And now knowing who he was behind the radio, she may have begun to take extra steps to see him more often. At the same time, Alastor seemingly dropped by the speakeasy Missy performed at more often. Several weeks of the two getting to know one another, and watching one another from afar in their own ways passed before Alastor asked Missy if she would be interested in officially starting a courtship. It was this conversation that led to Alastor learning of her gender identity, and much to her surprise, he didn't care.

The two would begin a relationship that to half of the public, looked like just two friends, but to the circle of folk who frequented the speakeasy- everyone knew the two as the happy couple they had become. Of course, there were still men who'd come and get belligerently drunk, throwing themselves at Missy or Mimzy- and most of them ended up Missy's victims.

It wasn't until Missy and Alastor moved in with one another that they learned of each other's homicidal tendencies as it grew more difficult to hide. Instead of rocking the boat, this revelation strengthened their bond because each of them had a similar yet odd moral code regarding their victims. Soon, emotionally tied the knot despite the laws surrounding marriage. Having a small, private ceremony over a victim with a ring exchange.

After many years in a near-perfect romantic partnership, in 1933, their lives were taken. Side by side while hiding a body and shot by a hunter in the distance while discarding of extra remains of a shared victim. 

After Death (In Hell) (still b4 pilot)

(missy's backstory in hell is too difficult to pinpoint years and dates like a lot of my other ocs... so no timeline this time!)

Alastor and Missy appeared in Hell together, and nearly instantaneously her beloved made a deal of which the details could never be shared with her. The contract gave Alastor his eldrich powers and allowed him to quickly rise to the power level of an overlord. Missy, on the other hand, struggled with her new form and powers. Feeling her control and strength wane depending on the amount of love she felt and received- on top of growing stronger by taking down current overlords. It didn't worry her, though. Knowing and believing as long as she was side by side with Alastor, all would be fine.

Eventually, as Alastor grew into his true role as the Radio Demon, an overlord in his own right, Missy had become the overlord of Obsession- and love, by her own claims. The two had a strained, complicated, and sad relationship with Vox during this period, which would eventually end dramatically. The main true 'friend' the couple shared in Hell that shared in their desire for power and rank was Rosie, the Cannibalism Overlord. She understood Missy better than anyone else in Hell, besides her beloved.

After decades together in Hell, Missy awoke one day with no sign of her beloved. No note, nothing to give her a sign he'd gone or would return. And her powers seemed to wane from the realization alone. An overwhelming panic set into her, rushing out into the streets of Pentagram City in a desperate search for him. Her search ended with no clues, and she returned empty-handed- all alone for the first time in decades.

She managed as well as she could on her own, although the other Overlords began to notice the shift in power and Alastor's absence. Putting a target on her back, and sending her into hiding.

After a year into Alastor's disappearance, Vox found the sinner. Grinning madly, he offered an outstretched hand, and deal to assist her. For her soul, he'd grant her greater powers, a job as an actress or star of the stage to attain fans and achieve a dream she didn't realize she had. Of course, Missy was fully aware Vox was likely doing this for two main reasons and neither were to help her. The little rabbit demon knew Vox likely only wished to hold something over Alastor's head if he ever returned and to have another soul to own. She hesitated to accept, but he ensured her she'd have a place to live- safe from other overlords and even the exterminations. She'd have been dumb to refuse, after all, if Alastor had the right to make a deal with some unknown being, why couldn't she make one with Vox?

Subsequently, Missy moved into a room at the VoxTek Tower to get to and from the filming sets more easily. Quickly falling into her new role as a star actress in film and stage, as if she was always meant for this. Nearly every motion picture or musical featuring the Overlord of Obsession was a hit, resulting in her fame and fans growing. As this occurred, Vox's behavior towards her became more familiar. Even teaching her more about technology, since she'd avoided much new tech due to her husband's distaste for it all. Surprisingly, she was quite skilled with graphic design, learned how to code, and became Vox's main assistant in case things went awry with him.

Velvette and Valentino noticed the way Vox seemed to favor her and kept her close. Resulting in some teasing, but mostly leading Velvette and Missy to become friends. Velvette enjoyed teaching the older woman about modern slang, technology, and social media she didn't understand. Thinking it hilarious how she mispronounced what was common internet lingo for the social media overlord. Valentino on the other hand, tried to push Missy into trying out a different kind of acting- one she was not comfortable with in the slightest. The rabbit demon and moth had quite a frustrating dynamic, Missy making fun of him and shooting both him and his requests down, only for Valentino to complain to Vox that his 'pet' was being mean.

All in all, despite their vast differences, Missy ended up getting along quite well with the V's. Growing particularly close to Vox and Velvette, even if she felt in the back of her mind a gnawing concern for what Alastor would say if he saw her now.

[inafieldofdaisies]

5 Songs, 3 Outfits | Tagged by @clicheantagonist @marivenah @shellibisshe @onehornedbeast @voidika @nightbloodbix @g0dspeeed @corvosattano @amalkavian @carlosoliveiraa @kyber-infinitygems

Rules: Post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear.

Power - Missy

Hellhounds howling for the heathens Fire wings, Salem, Madness reasons Taste the blood of the purest treason Hellhounds howling for the heathens Power, witch, so, so, so, so, so much power

Black Gold - Missy

You're like gold, black gold My kinda poison, I would do anything just for you to be mine

Doomsday - Kendra Dantes

When the world's in ashes, lost to all the havoc Raise our swords and fight till doomsday When the earth is severed, we will not surrender In this war, we'll fight till doomsday

Arise - CLANN

Thrown to pieces, ast to the wind From ashes we ascend Harken to me, hang on, this life's your own I'm right here beside you, you're not alone In darkness we shine Now place your hand in mine Arise

American Jesus - Nessa Barrett

Knees down at your altar, please don't fail me now You know all my secrets, American Jesus, baby, won't you take me to heaven tonight? You know you're my weakness, American Jesus, save me You're the greatest love of my life

Velvet World - Shiadanni

Just like the sun, I melt the snow Diva la Catrina, like a diva Strip down yourself, I'll tango with your love I'll be your medicina, your tequil I'll hide in your warm arm in the misty dawn Gentle, treat me like a piece of art

Jungle Type Love - Skylar

He's a psychopath and I like that, made a run for the famous triangle Bermuda Bark and I bite back Couldn't give him all my time, my service required Sun in my veins have all these desires

Daddy Issues - Skylar

Sinner in your shirt, attire illegal Take off that shirt, oh, we could stay for the night, we'll make the sequel Slutty in the satin sheets, then I'II leave you Bit of naked poetry for the people

Bad Bandit - Xana

Now she promised me her best in a bloody satin dress And i could see forever in her golden eyes My baby told me lies, I swear i'm gonna die But i ain't the one biting the dust tonight

Lethal Woman - Dove Cameron

'Cause she walks like a saint, floats like an angel Sharp like a knife under the table

Tagging, @strangefable @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @la-grosse-patate @dumbassdep @florbelles @cassietrn @purplehairsecretlair @nightbloodbix @theelderhazelnut @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @wrathfulrook @thesingularityseries @direwombat @simonxriley @the-silver-chronicles @strafethesesinners @gearvmac @captastra and anyone that would like to do the tag <3

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, September 28

GILES: That's the flora kua alaya. A native of Paraguay, if my botany serves. WILLOW: Is there anything you don't know everything about? GILES: Synchronized swimming. Complete mystery to me.

~~BtVS 7x01 “Lessons”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Cherry on Top (Buffy, PG-13) by veronyxk84

Divine Comedy in the Pool of Lethe (Angel/Darla, E) by CoffeeHunt

Steamy Pleasure (Buffy/Willow, E) by TacoFett

not a rosary (Buffy/Faith, T) by watcherless

Mouthfuls of Thaumaturgy (Spike/Drusilla, E) by SomeKindOfADeviant

[Untitled] (Wesley, Spike, not rated) by fevers-and-emeto-oh-my

Raising the Stakes (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by cawthraven

[Chaptered Fiction]

The More Things Change..., Chapter 1/? (Buffy/Faith, Stargate xover, T) by storiwr

Be Back Before Dawn, Chapter 1/19 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Blissymbolics

The Right Swipe, Chapter 10/? (Buffy/Giles, E) by DancingAngel0013

Supporting Loki (and Thor), Chapter 16/18 (Willow, Buffy, Marvel xover, M) by SomeMeaninglessName

The Usurper, Chapter 3/4 (Buffy/OMC, Willow/OMC, Cordelia/OMC, E) by CambrianBeckett

Secrets That We Keep, Chapter 9/? (Ensemble, multiship, M) by NegaCorgi

One Girl in All the World, Chapter 44 (Buffy/Faith, T) by Brenna's Urbangirl Projects

The Adventures Of Cordelia Chase and Xander Lavelle Harris vol.4: New Beginning, Chapter 11 COMPLETE! (Xander, Anya, Cordelia, T) by Lizzy100

The Adventures Of Cordelia Chase and Xander Lavelle Harris vol.5: New Happenings, Chapter 6 COMPLETE! (Xander, Anya, Cordelia, T) by Lizzy100

[French Language] Infiltré, Chapter 16 COMPLETE! (Buffy/Spike, T) by MissKitty28

Soul Mate Magic, Chapter 7 (Giles/OC, M) by EmmaMBlack

Stupid Thing, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Misti

Be Back Before Dawn, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Blissymbolics

Little Light, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

Supporting Loki (and Thor), Chapter 16 (Willow, Buffy, Marvel xover, M) by NobodyAtAll

To All We Guard, Chapter 26 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by simmony

1632 Revello Drive, Chapter 1 by MiaththeRed

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: Collage #179 (Spike/Drusilla, worksafe) by thedecadentraven

Artwork: [drawing of Joyce and Giles from "Band Candy"] (worksafe) by canciqer

Artwork: Please please please I want so badly to think that Spike is Billy Idol (Spike, worksafe) by canciqer

Gifset: Every Tara look: S4E18 Where the Wild Things Are (worksafe) by lovebvffys

Artwork: Drew buffy black once a bit ago and then I thought about it a lot and now it’s the only way I draw her + summerberg (worksafe) by pzyii

Gifset: Dawn Summers + Outfits (Season 5) (worksafe) by clarkgriffon

Gifset: Buffy Meme: [4/8 Episodes] 4x16 Who are you? (worksafe) by lovebvffys

Artwork: — so much damn confusion before my eyes / ramones, poison heart (Spike, worksafe) by silkspectred

Artwork: Spike & Buffy no-erase pencil sketch from “Wrecked,” about 40 minutes in the sketchbook (slightly NSFW) by thegothicalice

Moodboard: Buffy the vampire slayer 1997 – 2003 (worksafe) by la-was-here

Artwork: Another William Pratt, in a poet shirt (worksafe) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Artwork: William the Bloody Awful Poet (worksafe) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Artwork: Pic by me, text by EF and Ao3’s cawthraven aka Stiney (William, Buffy, worksafe) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Icons: Faith Lehane — Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 7 (worksafe) by nostalgc

DIY Buffy Fashion: Fear, Itself Buffy costume (worksafe) by Nocturnal-Nycticebus

Video: Sinner (Buffy/Spike, ensemble, M) by SweetPollyOliver

Video: My Own Dance (Buffy/Spike, ensemble, T) by periru3, Tafadhali

[Reviews & Recaps]

PODCAST: Find the Snort (S4E22) by It Stakes Two

[Recs & In Search Of]

Coffee by MrsGordo (Buffy/Angel, M) recced by iwillrememberyoumarathon

ISO: Can anyone recommend a dress that looks like Buffy’s white dress in Prophecy Girl? requested by Agile-Heron6761

ISO: Chronological Spike/Angel Flashback FanEdit requested by reyalsyffub

[Community Announcements]

[18+ Ropleplay Community] SEEKING MUSES FROM BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER! by tinytownoregonrp

[Fandom Discussions]

Honestly Gunn and Fred are lowkey the relationship I’m striving for by april-the-fan-girl

[reblog thread on 'how does a soul work' meta by trealtox] by ennairea

The buffy fandom would rather ship buffy x giles than bangel by becomingpart2

[anon ask] what’s your opinion on willow rosenberg? answered by sulietsexual

Anyway i’ve finished season 4 of buffy, but i already know more or less what will happen in later seasons [...] And now i swear i can’t even continue with the episodes because i just feel sick every time i think about what buffy has to go through by thecryofmadness

the cut between anya singing about xander to the present with a sword through her chest in s7 e5 selfless gets me EVERYTIME by canseethebrushstrokes

i just think the way spuffy flips the script on romcom tropes is so important by slugessence

willow standing on the rooftop away from the fight observing from a distance and telepathically telling everyone what to do by lesbianmarrow

i can’t imagine watching the last few episodes of btvs s5 and the last few episodes of angel s2 at the same time by lesbianmarrow

Can’t believe ppl think that Xander is the worst yet hail Spike when they are literally the same - creator’s pet/self-insert by prudeau

it’s actually so nuts to me that no one across both shows objects to giving angel the gem of amarra by moistvonlipwig

I love the amount of effort Spike and Angel put into their hair despite how difficult it would be for them to even know what they looked like by thequeenofsastiel

[anon ask] How’s it going with Buffy? A strong love/hate relationship already budding? answered by thetriangletattoo

To the older ones!! B&A question! continued by ILLYRIAN

Dead Things by Trixieswizzle

Why weren't slayers taught magic? by Grimdotdotdot

Continuity between I Was Made to Love You and The Body by Tuxedo_Mark

Slayer Logic? by Jonesybell

What’s an episode where you love the A-plot and hate the B-plot? by thetizzlewizzleshow

I don’t understand the complaints about Wesley’s attraction to Fred by DevilManRay

The show is fabulous at bizarre/shocking/funny cuts from 1 scene to another. Is there a better cut than the one from the end of Anya's song in "Selfless"? by Al_Bee

What happened to the left over bringers after the first was sealed off? by Pangeasrighthand

How does the First appear as Warren? by friendofathena

What perfume do you guys think Buffy/the characters would wear? by user230224

Differences in the fandom between the early seasons and later? by redskinsguy

I am i the only person who disliked the trio of nerds? In particular Andrew. by Prudent_Border5060

What do you think they would’ve done with Cordelia if she stayed on Buffy by DevilManRay

Asking for advice on how to watch Buffy & Angel by _3lleee

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

PUBLICATION: James Marsters Addresses Returning As Brainiac In Tom Welling & Michael Rosenbaum's Smallville Sequel Show by ScreenRant

PUBLICATION: ‘Buffy’ Pop-Up Deploys Candy Corn Malort for a True Chicago Nightmare by Eater Chicago

PUBLICATION: Availability of Spike (Punk) Funko Pop in Europe and US by James Marsters News (on X)

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