#mock burial

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Old Man Prohibition had been hanged and burned many times over the previous 14 years, but the day before the 18th Amendment was officially repealed, December 4, 1933, women at the Art Students League put him into a coffin. A procession along Fifth Avenue followed. No word on whether they actually buried him.

Photo: Associated Press

[hatt0riart]

finished up one of my WIPs!!! heres a better look at kuai in this roleswap au

i forgot the straps/buckles on his shoulders but idk, im on the fence about keeping it in the design.

kuai primarily wields an ice scythe, though still retains the ability to make a variety of weapons out of ice. he likes to maintain a distance in combat and only gets face-to-face if absolutely necessary. (this is to mirror his counterpart, hanzo , who enjoys close range combat more.)

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY ART ON ANY OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA OR CROP THEM FOR ICONS. THANK YOU!

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus Brought before Pilate

1 When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people conferred together against Jesus in order to bring about his death. 2 They bound him, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate the governor.

The Suicide of Judas

3 When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. 4 He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” 5 Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself. 6 But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money.” 7 After conferring together, they used them to buy the potter’s field as a place to bury foreigners. 8 For this reason that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. 9 Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah, “And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of the one on whom a price had been set, on whom some of the people of Israel had set a price, 10 and they gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord commanded me.”

Pilate Questions Jesus

11 Now Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” 12 But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. 13 Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” 14 But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

Barabbas or Jesus?

15 Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. 16 At that time they had a notorious prisoner called Jesus Barabbas. 17 So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” 18 For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. 19 While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” 20 Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. 21 The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” 22 Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” 23 Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!”

Pilate Hands Jesus Over to Be Crucified

24 So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” 25 Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” 26 So he released Barabbas for them, and after flogging Jesus he handed him over to be crucified.

The Soldiers Mock Jesus

27 Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. 28 They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, 29 and after twisting some thorns into a crown they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” 30 They spat on him and took the reed and struck him on the head. 31 After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

The Crucifixion of Jesus

32 As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon; they compelled this man to carry his cross. 33 And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), 34 they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall, but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. 35 And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots; 36 then they sat down there and kept watch over him. 37 Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.”

38 Then two rebels were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. 39 Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads 40 and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” 41 In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking him, saying, 42 “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. 43 He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to, for he said, ‘I am God’s Son.’ ” 44 The rebels who were crucified with him also taunted him in the same way.

The Death of Jesus

45 From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. 46 And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 47 When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “This man is calling for Elijah.” 48 At once one of them ran and got a sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. 49 But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.” 50 Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. 51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. 52 The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. 53 After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many. 54 Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

55 Many women were also there, looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering to him. 56 Among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.

The Burial of Jesus

57 When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea named Joseph, who also was himself a disciple of Jesus. 58 He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus; then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. 59 So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth 60 and laid it in his new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock. He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away. 61 Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb.

The Guard at the Tomb

62 The next day, that is, after the day of Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate 63 and said, “Sir, we remember what that impostor said while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ 64 Therefore command the tomb to be made secure until the third day; otherwise, his disciples may go and steal him away and tell the people, ‘He has been raised from the dead,’ and the last deception would be worse than the first.” 65 Pilate said to them, “You have a guard of soldiers; go, make it as secure as you can.” 66 So they went with the guard and made the tomb secure by sealing the stone. — Matthew 27 | New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVUE) New Revised Standard Version, Updated Edition. Copyright © 2021 National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. All rights reserved worldwide. Cross References: Genesis 20:6; Genesis 31:11; Genesis 50:5; Exodus 21:32; Exodus 26:31; Numbers 4:5; Deuteronomy 21:6; Joshua 2:19; 1 Samuel 19:5; 1 Samuel 20:32; 2 Samuel 17:23; 2 Kings 13:21; 2 Kings 19:21; Psalm 22:8; Psalm 22:16; Psalm 31:13; Psalm 69:21; Psalm 71:10; Psalm 94:21; Isaiah 22:16; Isaiah 25:7; Isaiah 50:6; Isaiah 53:7; Isaiah 53:9; Jeremiah 1:1; Jeremiah 26:8; Daniel 6:17; Zechariah 11:12-13; Matthew 1:16; Matthew 2:2; Matthew 16:21; Matthew 17:23; Matthew 20:19; Matthew 26:61; Matthew 26:63; Matthew 28:1; Matthew 28:11; Matthew 28:14-5; Mark 7:11; Mark 15:2; Mark 15:5-6; Mark 15:15; 15:42-43; Luke 23:5; Luke 23:9; Luke 23:53-54; John 19:9; John 19:14; John 20:1; Acts 1:19; Acts 3:14; Acts 5:28; Acts 13:28; Romans 16:7; 1 Thessalonians 2:3; James 1:5; Hebrews 5:7

What does Matthew chapter 27 mean?

Key Passages in Matthew 27

1. Jesus is delivered bound to Pilate. 3. Judas hangs himself. 19. Pilate, admonished of his wife, 20. and being urged by the multitude, washes his hands, and releases Barabbas. 27. Jesus is mocked and crowned with thorns; 33. crucified; 39. reviled; 50. dies, and is buried; 62. his tomb is sealed and watched.

[icyblogs]

anyone still thinking about fallout? haha anyways here’s more ghoul!ghost (-‘:

Fallout!AU Ghoul!Ghost x Vaulter!Fem!Reader i’d imagine this takes some time after the events of this. but can be read by itself. (: WC: 2.6K Warnings: dark fic, noncon, mdni. Note: thinking about how ghouls canonly are sterile. this is a known fact, only slightly broken by the miracle that is Saint Monica from Fallout 3- which to this day i’m still not sure if it was some sort of gospel or not as it was from Father Clifford, but regardless. 

“Well um, well, our community is always looking for new members, we’d be happy to have you!” Brown eyes drift down at your familiar form, tilting his head as he watches your mannerisms as you flit around nervously, too polite to outwardly refuse him. His joints ache as they pop absentmindedly by his side, fingers twitching to dig into the soft flesh of your waist- to claw into your skin, aching to reinstate his claim. “And, there’s a lot of homes being built still as you can see but uh-, but I have a guest room here if you’d like to stay here. Our overseer says there might be a storm coming tonight!”  

“Is tha’ right, honey?” Simon croons- voice reverberating in the quiet evening, gloved hand coming up to rest on the top of the doorsill. He leans forwards, soaking in the way you slink backwards into the house, your eyes traveling down the expanse of his broad body. 

He was truly a bad man, made worse by this wasteland, you should be running for the hills- not offering him a place in your home. Like letting a wolf into a chicken coop; an insatiable beast that once it had the taste of you, it wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left. To tear you apart- aching to see if you tasted like how he remembered; saccharine ichor, sweet candy floss- it was enough to make his teeth grit, molars grinding together. 

His eyes drift down to your left hand, noticing the blatant lack of jewelry, jaw clicking in place. No ring, no memory- it was.. not what he had anticipated when he first approached you later that evening after the communal dinner. Maybe it was blissful thinking that when you’d notice him, your eyes would light up- and you’d run at him- into his awaiting embrace, where you belonged. With your husband.  

But, the wasteland had never been kind to him, so why would it continue to be now?

It was mocking in a way, dangling something in front of him, like a piece of meat to a starved, old, dog- one that salivated at the mere thought of it. Of you.

It really was obsolete, how could the world think of keeping the two of you apart? You didn’t belong here with this.. community. With these people. Don’t worry, he’d show you the right way of the world. No need to stay with these vaulters, filling your head about how the world now supposedly worked- this place would probably be blown up in a year or so by some fanatics- why bother staying here?

But if you insisted on playing house here just for a little while, he’d be happy to oblige for a day. Maybe two if he was feeling generous Then you’ll come back home with him in the little slice of territory he’s carved out (blood feeding the plants, bone-marrow for the fertilizer, built on a burial ground of his own creation) to spend the rest of your time together, alone. The way it should’ve been. Maybe chained to the bed so he’d know where you’d be at all the time, so you wouldn’t get lost again. 

All safe and sound.

See, Simon never believed in luck nor fate until he met you all those years ago. And it’s pretty damn hard to deny that it exists when you’re standing in front of him more than two centuries later, and he may as well consider himself the luckiest man alive. 

“I, Simon Riley take you to be my wife.” 

He finds solace with you- even if you don’t remember who he was. Even if you fight against him as he makes himself at home, all but slamming the door behind himself; mud-trodden boots tracking along the wood, smearing dirt and crimson. You don’t have your ring anymore, but that’s okay- he’ll give you a new one so you know who you belong to. Rings of teeth (chipped, missing) along the column of your throat, scarring until there’s no concept of a misunderstanding left. 

“To have and to hold from this day forwards.”

It wasn’t your fault that you’d forgotten who you were- wasn’t your fault that you didn’t immediately go searching for him when you had woken up, but it was alright. He’d teach you. Break you apart and take the pieces, building you right back up to how he remembered you. 

Eventually to a point where he didn’t have to tie your arms behind your back with a belt or stuff a rag in your mouth to muffle your cries for help. As much as he loved seeing you bound- as much as he loved hearing your noises— it would be a shame to pick through any more corpses for the bullet going through the skull of anyone trying to interrupt the reunion. 

“For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer.”

He thinks he’s in heaven, sitting between your spread legs- a bruising grip on your thigh, the other on your stomach, keeping you firmly situated on the bed. Trying his best to ignore the garbled whimper when he pulls down his bandana, watching as your eyes fill with more tears at his face, or lack thereof. Truly earning his nickname, a grim reaper looming over your bound body, licking his chapped lips as he stares unblinkingly down at you. You looked scared but.. it’s okay. Your husband‘s here now, no need to worry.

He leans down to rest against your knee, scarred cheek against soft skin, giving a chaste kiss. He goes up, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the skin up to the gusset of your underwear, trying to recall how you smelt- and he groans, providing an open mouthed kiss to the fabric. Breath warm, reverent as he peers up at you, soaking in how your cheeks looked warm, the moonlight from the outside casting an ethereal glow. 

“Poor girl been all neglected, hasn’t she?” He grumbles- giving the fabric another chaste kiss as he peels it off your skin and watches as you writhe beneath him, like a mouse caught by a viper, struggling so much that it only causes his hold on you that much tighter. Fingertips absentmindedly petting against your stomach, making their way up to your breasts, tweaking your nipples to stiff peaks. He was languid with it, like he had all the time in the world. Now, he supposed he did. Slowly, softly- treating you as if you were glass. As if one wrong move would cause you to disappear. Tongue laying flat as he makes out with your pussy, relishing it the way it gushes for him- or how your hips buck when he sucks on your clit just right. 

Simon worked you like he was orchestrating a band- each string plucked to perfection, remembering exactly what you liked like you were the back of his hand- knowing what made you tick. What made you unravel. His free hand slips between your legs, causing your thighs to squeeze around his head when one of his fingers starts to coax you open. It wouldn’t be the most terrible way to go out, if it was from you. 

Taking his sweet time working you to the edge and then over promptly, eyes rolling back as he laps at your cunt as if your juices was nectar- pure ambrosia. Liquid gold- you really did taste just as sweet as he remembered. He holds you firmly down as he continues to work your high into overstimulation, it was messy- worshiping- tongue, mouth, teeth- and he brings you crashing over the edge for a second time before finally pulling back, watching as you tremble beneath him, eyes a little bit glassy. Brain practically melting out of your ears, unable to really focus- tears slipping down your cheeks, breathing in deeply through your nose as you try and regain some sense of coherence. 

He’s never thought you looked more beautiful.

“In sickness and in health.”

It was easy to forget what home was like. Years of corrosion- sinking into grooves of his brain, plaguing his thoughts. Paranoia, questioning— so many voices that it was hard to think. Yet as he looks down at your already tuckered out form, he only smiles- feeling at peace. No voices whispering in his ear- no phantom pains, he felt relaxed, for the first time in a long while. Home was where you were, whether you knew it or not. 

Breathing staggered, he kneads at the meat of your thigh soothingly as he works to fish out his cock with one hand, giving it a few lazy pumps as he lines himself up, smearing arousal over your puffy clit. He rests one hand on your knee, notching the head at your entrance- watching you closely as you give a little shake of your head. 

“‘ou can take it for me, can’t you love?” He encourages, starting to make his way home. The first inch takes his breath away momentarily, and he moves your knees so they are up against your chest. Watching you flit around and flounder- eyes wide as you gasp for breath behind the rag. Drool falling from the corner of your lips, toes curling at the sheer stretch. 

“Tha’s it. Biggg stretch.” He continues to push in until he bottoms out. Thighs pressing to the back of yours, eyes fluttering at the sensation of your cunt tightening around him like a goddamn vice- “Feels like a fuckin’ dream, love. She remembers me huh? Even if you don’t- fuck-“ 

His hand finds your cheek, throat tightening as he sees your panicked expression, the furrowed eyebrows, staring back at him behind a wall of tears. It was enough to make him almost pull out to comfort you. Almost- you’d understand why he was doing this someday, even thank him for it. “It’s okay, deep breaths, yeah? You can do it.” He coaxes instead, pupils blown out as he looks down at where the two of you were connected, giving an experimental thrust, nearly coming at the pretty muffled moan that makes its way out of your throat. It’s been way too long.

“Feels good?” You shake your head, and his eyes crinkle as a smile graces his scarred lips, his thumb brushing away one of your tears. Going slow at first but he starts to get lost in the feeling of his cock drags in and out of your gummy walls— and he starts to go rougher, ignoring your little whimpers and whines. How your feet try and kick free out of the mating press, and he all but snarls, head dropping to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping- almost as a warning as he continues to fuck you into oblivion. 

“To love and to cherish.”

He used to imagine a family with you back then before the bombs dropped. Take a vacation, build a nursery together- paint the walls. Bring a little piece of the both of you into the world. You always did reassure him that his past didn’t define him, that he would be a good father. That he was enough.

Living this long.. had its downside. He knew that. It was an ouroboros, a constant loop, a mindfuck. It’s been hell on Earth. He’s accepted that, a phantom- a ghost living in this wasteland, thriving on those who were more surviving rather than the living. But he never really considered nor cared about a specific aspect of it. Sterile, never able to reproduce. 

Simon had once wondered if one day you’d sit outside with him, dinner on the stove, watching as he built a cradle. He could’ve just imagined the baby bump and his eyebrows furrow, picking up his pace as beads of sweat drip down his brow.

It was wishful thinking. But that’s all it was- wishful.

Maybe in another life— but damn did it sound appealing now. 

He continues to rut into you, nodding his head as if you were in on the conversation he was having with himself. He could just imagine your stomach all round he starts to pant, dark eyes peering down at you. “Yeah you’d been such a good mama, huh? You’d give me a whole litter of them, wouldn’t you?” His hips stutter, squeezing his eyes closed as he hears your garbled sobbing. Trying to get air through the rag, nostrils flaring for breath. His lips drag up your jaw, gently kissing your eyelids as you keep them squeezed shut, muffled whimpers behind the cloth. “I love you so much. Missed ’ou baby.”

His pace stutters once- twice more and he lets out a guttural groan, releasing up against the base of your cervix. He glances down again, staring unabashedly at the milky fluid coating the base of his cock and his head goes a bit fuzzy at the sight. 

The sound of thunder booms outside, rattling the window as the moment comes to an end. Pulling out, he hums as he shrugs off his jacket, ignoring your small sounds of protests as he lays down on the bed next to you.

He easily maneuvers you, his chest facing yours as he starts to slot himself back between your legs. “Settle, jus’ relax love.” He spreads the combined come around before pushing it back inside, keeping you nice and plugged up. “I’m going to remove the rag, you’re not going to scream are you?” 

You look at the stranger- the man? Monster- it was hard to tell but you shake your head regardless, trying to appease him. “Course you won’t. Because you’re my good girl- and you wouldn’t lie to me.” Bringing the fabric out of your mouth causes a whine, jaw tingling and aching as you lick your lips, trying to regain some sort of hydration. 

“Pl- Please I don’t understand I- why are you doing this— please sir-“

“Simon. Don’ want you calling me anything else.” He interrupts your panicked rambling, frowning as he leans down and capturing your lips in a kiss. Soft, gentle— longing. Even if your eyes were wide and terrified, shaking like a leaf, flinching as you look back at his mangled face. “Now sleep. Don’t want any more talking out of you tonight okay?”

When you don’t respond he nudges your chin up, his brow-bone raising expectantly. “We have a long day tomorrow, don’ want you to be tired, okay?” You catch your lip between your teeth, hiccuping and confused. Eventually nodding, letting out a little squeak when he squeezes your waist, fingers brushing over the leather of the belt. “I know it hurts love, I know- ‘ll let you out of these in the morning alright, just don’t want you to gettin’ into any trouble.” Another smile, and he leans down kissing away the tears falling. “I’m glad you’re here.”

For the first time in years, he feels genuinely content, one leg over yours as he throws an arm around your shoulders, chin notching in on the top of your head. He doesn’t sleep that night, listening to your breathing as you finally fall asleep after a bit of struggling, fingertips absentmindedly trailing up and down your spine. He hears the steady pulse of your heart- sees the rise and fall of your chest, and he smiles, leaning down and kissing your temple. 

You were here. Doesn’t matter how, but you were here. Your current state was a problem- sure- but you had all the time in the world to get reacquainted again, and you’d learn to be happy again. To love him again. 

“Until death does us part.” 

“For this is my solemn vow.”

[bettyfrommars]

Monster Eddie Jobs: haunted clown doll. Poltergeist. One of those paintings where the eyes follow you around. INCUBUS

haunted clown doll it is

hauntedClownDoll!Eddie x Reader

another blurb from The Nightmare Factory

Nightmare Factory Masterlist Clown!Eddie art

Another step in Eddie's journey to find the Nightmare Factory job that will entice you to want to get to know him. A lot of you darlings came through with a handful of fun, creative requests, and I'm excited to keep them going through spooky season! I will also be using others that were mentioned in this particular ask, and always happy to receive more! I stayed at the Clown Motel once and lived to tell. There really is a cemetery right next to it, no lie. wc: 1.5k

18+ONLY, mature themes, nightmares, clowns, longing

The Clown Motel in Tonopah, Nevada gave you the creeps, but all you needed was a quick bed for the night, and $65 was about all you could afford.  There was an old cemetery next to the property, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed it was all a staged setup to add to the spooky appeal of the motel.  But, no—the headstones were all very real, dating back to the late 1800’s.

You saw him when you first came in—he was impossible to miss.  The life-sized clown doll dressed in colorful stripes with a wide mouth and round, rubber nose.  He sat in the middle of a square nook filled with clown dolls of all shapes and sizes.  Some were ceramic, some were cloth.  Some were wood, carved to look like a nutcracker.  The big clown had one hand in his lap and one hanging down his side, and his eager eyes sought you in a way that made you avert your attention until you were done checking in.  

Your room was on the second tier and you took some time to get cleaned up before calling over to the restaurant across the way to order some food.  On you way back across the street, clutching the styrofoam container in your hand, you caught a glimpse of something bright in the cemetery.

It was dusk, and you wondered if maybe it was someone visiting one of the burial sites.

But, with a muffled scream you noticed—for a split second—that it was the same clown doll from the lobby standing like a statue by one of the headstones.

It was watching you, leering at you, and it lifted its arm in a stiff wave as the wind blew back the silk of his costume.

You blinked and choked, and when you focused on the spot in the distance again—the clown was no longer there.  

Eddie materialized in the cemetery to get a better look at where you were, and then he tripped over his floppy shoes and almost impaled himself on a handmade, wooden cross.  

He cursed under his breath, wondering why he chose Haunted Clown Doll over some type of apparition so that he could be near you without making you uncomfortable.  First of all, he thought having a physical body would solve the communication problem, but of course—the clown’s face couldn’t move, and his voice came out as not much more than a mocking cackle.

Second, it was only a three day training, and most of it was just watching safety videos about how to walk in the shoes.  They also taught him to sit for a while, and then stand in the corner, and then hover near the bed when the person having the nightmare least expected it.  

They repeated a lot of the same shit at the training, and when he crossed his arms over his chest to sink back in his chair, he started to fall asleep.

He snorted awake with a start when the teacher—-a professional Nightmare Clown with a gaping maw of sharp teeth and a bright green wig—-barked his name.

“Sorry,” Eddie said groggily.  “I’m listening.”

“Is that right?” The teacher clown also had cat’s eyes for pupils and a polka dot jumper with ruffles at the wrists and blood stains across the front.  “Indulge the rest of the class and tell me what the last rule was I just went over.”

The “class” consisted of 3 unfortunate souls, including Eddie.  

Eddie could not contain the yawn that stretched his mouth, so he spoke while it was happening.  “Going under the covers,” he answered.  “When the person puts their head under the covers, they are safe, and we can’t touch them or scare them.”

“Exactly, now, how do we keep them from going under the covers?”

Eddie must’ve blanked out on that one.  “Um, we can’t?”

The teacher heaved a weary sigh, cocking their head.  “Distractions, Munson. Doors that fly open, a face in the window, whispers in their ear.”

This was all beginning to sound way above his pay grade, and he wasn’t interested in being the best student or the best employee—he just wanted to see you again.

He should’ve dematerialized before you caught a glimpse of him from across the street, but some insane part of him hoped you might recognize him—even though you’d never seen his actual form, and he was dressed like a literal clown this time.  

A car honked, jolting you from your reverie, and as you jogged the rest of the way into the parking lot, your eyes darted around, hoping to god that you would not see the clown again.

On your way to the stairs, you passed by the glass front to the lobby, and found yourself looking in to make eye contact with the clown doll again.  Its eyeballs were painted on, but somehow—you felt like they were watching you, as if someone were looking through from the other side.  Both of its hands were in its lap, now, and its shoulders were hunched; big, oversized red shoes planted on the floor; short, frizzy orange hair sticking out of a floppy sleeping cap.  

You went up and watched some lame sitcoms while you ate your dinner, and you tried to forget about the inanimate clown doll that was gnawing at your brain.

Eddie noticed how you took the time to check in on him on the way to your room, and his heart leapt.  And then, he thought he was the one dreaming when he watched you descend the stairs and return to the lobby a few hours later.

The night manager popped his head out to ask if you needed any help, but you confessed you were only there to look at the clowns.

One in particular.

You made your way over to stand at his side and covertly whispered in his ear.  “Was that you out in the cemetery today?”

Eddie’s clown hand fell from his lap to sway at his side, making you jump back, eyes widening at the coincidence.

When you found the nerve, you leaned closer, inspecting the wide, painted smile on his porcelain face, the brown of his irises.

You were so close, Eddie could smell you.  You radiated fresh lavender and coconut hand lotion and a tang of garlic from the dinner you just ate.  He watched your lips move as you whispered to yourself, something about, “where have I seen this clown before?”

Eddie couldn’t speak though, he could only chuckle, and he didn’t think it was the right time.

The body of the doll was so lifelike; you had to feel it for yourself.  With a shaky hand, you reached out to touch his shoulder—it wasn’t soft like stuffing, it was hard, like a store mannequin.  You bent down to squeeze the thigh, finding that it was made of the same solid material.

Eddie could feel everything, the way you were caressing him. On his plane of existence, he parted his lips and let his eyes roam over your face.  Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss you.

You bought some souvenirs—-a shot glass and a mug for your mom—and then returned to your room for the night.

It took you a while to get to sleep, but when you finally dozed off to the point that your body jerked from an imaginary fall, clown Eddie was sitting in the chair in the corner.  The maniacal smile stretched across his face was locked in place—his eyes unblinking as they stared across the room at you.  

You rolled over with a groan, pulling the covers closer to your chin as you went.  

Eddie materialized at the side of the bed, at your back, tilting his head, wishing he could crawl in and put his arms around you.  He’d take his big, stupid shoes off first.

The next morning, you woke up refreshed, and busied yourself around the motel room getting ready for the last leg of your road trip, oblivious to the way Eddie had been standing at the foot of your bed all night.  

After your suitcase was in the car, you went to drop the key off at the front desk, and noticed the life-sized clown was no longer therr.  You went over to inspect the area: its chair between the shelves of smaller clowns was gone too.  There was not a trace of it, as if it had vanished.

“Hey, so, where did you put the huge clown that was down here?” You asked politely as you passed the man your key.

He squinted at you, a bit confused.  “Huge clown, you mean the nutcracker ones?”

“No, the really big one,” you turned to point to the area where it had been.  “It was taller than me with enormous red shoes, a really creepy smile.  It was sitting right over there when I checked in yesterday.”

The man bent forward over the desk to see where you were pointing, even though he had no idea what  you were babbling about.  

“We’ve never had a clown that size,” he assured you. “But I wish we did. It sounds like something from a nightmare.”

[loosingmoreletters]

take an AU haunting me for ages now: the “sects go to the terrifying Yiling patriarch to ask for his help in the war, WWX ends up demanding LWJ marry him” fics?

Yes, that, but kinda in reverse.

The Sects go to meet the Yiling Patriarch and he’s as expected: arrogant, bold, careless, demanding. And using heretic powers to keep his Burial Mounds untouched by the world.

They negotiate, he smirks properly wicked, and and says he wants to name a bride and a marriage to the Lan.

The Lan talk, outraged, but they have a war to win so the agreement is struck: marriage to the Lan and the Yiling Patriarch is allowed to name bride and groom. They write it down exactly like that.

The war happens, but with the Yiling Patriarch’s army of the resentful dead, they lose less soldiers, win more battles. The Lan wonder why they were chosen, perhaps because they hold enough moral sway that any hostage of theirs wouldn’t result in another war? Regardless, Lan Wangji makes it his job to stick close to the Yiling Patriarch, as close as he will let anyone. He has a whole entourage of ghost brides, though only one stays close to him at all times, veiled whenever they have company

They win the war. “Bride and groom,” the Yiling Patriarch says and swears to return in three months. There is talk of taking him down now that Wen are gone, but no one wants to go to war in the Burial Mounds.

The Yiling Patriarch arrives in three months as promised, dressed in red, followed by a parade of people. “I’ve come to collect my debt,” he tells them. “I will name Lan Wangji as the groom,” he says, sparking confusion and outrage. Does he intend to name one of his ghost brides next? And indeed, he reached for one, lifts her veil, revealing living woman, but takes the veil for himself instead. “And I, myself, will be his bride.”

The story goes a little like this:

One. Wei Ying’s parents die and he follows them. Only he is young and alive and curious and the Burial Mounds are very hungry. They devour him skin, flesh, bone, teeth. And they spit him out again. And again again and again.

Two. Wen Qing is her uncle’s favorite, but she’s her brother’s only sister. She fears what war means, what the retaliation might mean. Young Masters go to the Cloud Recesses for study on invitation, Wen Qing goes to the Burial Mounds to beg.

Three. There is very little begging to be done in front of a boy her brother’s age, who hasn’t been hugged in years and keeps the company of murdered brides as though they are his mothers, aunts and sisters. She asks for protection, he asks for a meal.

Four. They cannot stay in the Burial Mounds forever. It is not a place for children even Wei Wuxian realizes that one morning and promptly disappears in his childhood bedroom, a cold cave filled with trinkets of the dead. He survived on the cost of skin, flesh, bone, teeth. They cannot all pay this price.

Five. The Sects knock at his door, a solution presents itself. He dressed Wen Qing like his older sister, veil and all, and hides her among his undead. They strike a bargain.

Six. They could keep a hostage, but a hostage will not keep them fed. Brides, he knows from childhood on, marry out. One of his sisters would’ve taken with her all her servants, had her unwilling husband not killed her on the wedding night.

Seven. “This is why it has to be a Lan,” Wen Qing tells him. Your husband would not kill you like this. They might keep him in some other way, but what could be worse than skin, flesh, bone, teeth? A wedding night of death? Nothing. And if he can help his family by making them servants and himself a bride, he’ll stay locked up in the Cloud Recesses. At least this prison will not spit him out.

What Lan Wangji knows is this: the Yiling Patriarch is mocking them, but there is a debt and a debt must be paid.

They marry in name, no matter how much the Yiling Patriarch taunts him about the contents of a proper marriage, and then they live separately. They keep an eye on him of course, him and his servants, who keep to themselves, settling in Caiyi and the Cloud Recesses, wary, hungry, terrified people - not of their master, but of everyone else.

And then, on accident maybe, a slip of the tongue, one of those servants soak a different name. Within a second, the Yiling Patriarch is in front of them in protection, though he looks less arrogant, less bold, less careless, less demanding. He looks, Lan Wangji thinks, like someone who has more too lose than he’d ever admit. He looks terrified like no one in the Cloud Recesses ever should.

So maybe he should ask him why

[ilovejeongintoo]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕠 𝕎𝕚𝕟

!WARNING NSFW Content ahead! !MDNI!

Genre: Fantasy, Gladiator/Minotaur? Jongho x Reader, Warnings: murder, deaths, time accurate sexism, strength kink, touch-starved Jongho, size kink, pet names (Nymph, Doc), no condom(wrap it up), praise Wordcount: 3145 Not proofread

I need red haired Jongho back, desperately. Why did I spend more research on ancient roman practices than this story, I'm crying.

Summary: As a female physician in ancient Rome you're in charge of minor duties, getting a call to the gladiator arena wasn't what you expected, especially with the first ranked one requiring a little more than some of your gauze and bandages.

You absolutely hated this part of the job. Being a physician was great and all but the comments from men never ceased to exist. And you were always made to look like an assistant, making countless people die of things that you were sure were treatable, the male physicians always dismissed any ideas you had, no matter how much proof you gave them.

You got the message today that they would need you at the local gladiator arena, that place shouldn't even exist in your opinion, but that would get you to get called a lunatic. As if being a woman in a male dominated field wasn't bad enough.

Usually, they called you to have you confirm that they were dead, you were usually the bringer of bad news and made sure that the important items on the person were returned to the family. Either to be kept or to be buried later in the day with the body.

That was the only positive things about that gruesome place. It reeked of death; the high, white colosseum walls far more intimidating than your little healing hut.

The guards led you through the open walkways getting you into the room with the dead bodies, you grimaced at the sight slightly. This job really didn't get any easier through the years.

"You better make this quick, we want you to look at a few people that are worth more than that pile over there." The other guard laughed. These were people once too.

"Every day, I wonder how they let a woman do a job like this." They weren't saying this out of concern, not to protect your eyes from this view but to mock you from being the gender you were.

"I'll make it as fast as I can." You did mean it, you wanted to get this over with and leave this place.

"You women should just stay and look after the kids, you're not suited for this kind of work." God if you could, you'd punch his face for even uttering a single word to you. The way their gazes ran over your body, undressing you, it made you feel absolutely repulsed. Men, men like this disgusted you to no end, they deserved the pain that Thanatos would give them when they inevitably perish.

They quickly left you, not too keen on watching touching and examining the corpses. You gently cleaned them off, blood grime and sweat stuck to them even after death. They bodies were hard to move around to get to dirty areas because rigor mortis had them laying in the same position after a while. You closed open wounds so they wouldn't leak as much anymore, so that they at the very least didn't sully the burial clothing.

As the very last step you put them on a blanket and covered their naked bodies with a blanket, ready to be taken to the burial grounds outside of the city.

You took your dirty rags and ceramic bowl with you and the rest of your medical equipment. This was the only thing that healers would allow you to do alone. So, you would at least complete these mundane task to the fullest.

You headed back up to the more residential hospital room, here were some guards and gladiators that survived their fights but weren't supported enough to get their own rooms. Just minor injuries and cuts, making you have to cauterize some wounds and treating some with lint, animal grease, and honey. Depending on how deep and bad they looked.

All this work exhausted you to no end but after a few hours everyone was put to bed for rest or were sent off home. Just as you were about to leave yourself another guard walked up to you before you had the chance to go.

"There's still someone you need to take a look at." He started walking down another way, making you follow him, your white tunica being swooshed around. The hallway seemed to drag on for forever until you were stopped in front of a big set of wooden doors.

"This is as far as I'm going to take you, he tends to… get a little aggressive with us guards." He added that he was the number one gladiator right now, so he was basically a celebrity and that you should treat him as such. You pushed the doors open with a short glance back to the lone guard, he was looking at you almost with a sympathetic face, as if he was in pain. Hopefully he wasn't the violent type, you could deal with an aggressive patient, but you weren't built to fight a professional killer.

The first thing you were greeted by was a big room, with lots of dimmed lights, giving it a warm orangish tone in the bedroom. There was a big bed in the middle of the room, it looked as if it could hold at least 4 people.

There were lit candles and torches all around that emitted the warm glow. The next thing you noticed was the hulking figure in the far end of the room, situated in front of a lit fireplace. They must have not noticed you yet because they didn't turn around at all. The door clicked close, that’s when the person turned their head to the side calling out to you.

"I told everyone, that I didn't want to be bothered." Usually you would leave at that, but there must be a reason why they needed to have a healer look at him, so you wouldn't leave until you did just that.

He didn't sound angry, only exasperated that something like this was happening. You moved forward slightly, clutching your things to your body, nervous because you weren't normally in charge of patients of such high profile.

You didn't look at him, out of respect trying to organize your things on a small table to the side of the meridienne that he was sat on. You only saw his outfit for a moment, barely enough to take in the leather pants and boots, a white shirt accompanying it.

"Didn't you hear what I said, do not bother me." You didn't respond, not too sure if you saying you were going to stay regardless or staying quiet would make him more irritated.

He didn't seem to keen on your lack of a response even though he didn't lash out at you. You were done setting everything up and kept kneeling next to him, now finally speaking.

"I was sent here to take care of any wounds tha-."

"I don't need that"

You lifted your head at the rude interruption, quickly getting stunned by the sight of the man.

Fiery dark red hair and a… surprisingly soft face, he looked young barely older than you. Dark eyebrows and eyes that perfectly matched the rest of his face. He didn't look like a gladiator at all. You've been to countless of fights before as a child, too curious to understand the brutality. And all of them were muscly big dark men, they looked like they would fight anyone and anything.

This man looked nothing of the sort. While there was a good amount of muscle on him, judging by the muscles in his arms and thighs, it was like something from a roman statue. One you'd see at the local temples, worshipped for its beauty and perfection. You wouldn't mind doing exactly that.

What?

No, you were here to help, nothing more, no matter how good looking he was. He was dangerous, he is dangerous.

-do something specific doc?"

What? You looked at his eyes. Not properly hearing him.

"I said, do you need me to do something specific doc?" Oh, right, treatment.

"Any pain anywhere? Or any injuries that you sustained; I'd like to take a look at them." He sighed not really wanting to, but seemingly just wanting to get this over with.

"Just a few cuts, on my arms and back."

"Mhm" He wasn't being transparent with you, so you'd just have to take a look now.

You were waiting for him to take his shirt off, but he didn't move a single inch. You didn't know what man-pride was stopping him from just showing you. Hah, this was going to be an even longer day now. "Just take your top off and I'll see if anything needs further treatment, if you don't let me take a look, you'll get an infection and die." You were talking to him like you were scolding a child, patience wearing thin very quickly.

His shirt was off the very next second and you had to hold back a gasp at all the scars littering his skin. It looked pretty, hard work evident in the scar tissue. Evidence of his survival. You took your jug of saltwater stopping just before pouring over a few open wounds. Warning him about the pain that was going to be coming in a few seconds, he just nodded. No flinch, no whimper, no groan absolutely nothing came out of him.

You knew just how much that hurt, like a burning fire the skin would similarily turn a little red. You quickly moved on to put a small amount of herbal paste on the few cuts along his chest impressed by his anatomy again. Hard to the touch but pliable. You tried to be as gentle as possible, as a last step you brought out some honey using it to form a barrier to the wound and disinfecting it again.

Before wrapping him up you caught sight of something on his shoulder, or back? You couldn't quite see from your position in front of him. You reached for his shoulder and then he turned away, glaring at you now.

"That one's fine." Anyone in s 5 mile radius could tell he was full of bullshit right now."

"No it's not and I'm not gonna let you fucking die from a cut that's easily treatable. So turn around or I will sedate you and do it while you're asleep." Welp, now you did it. Now there was no way that he wouldn't get angry, that must have been his last straw.

Your mouth was closed shut tightly in realization of what you had said. Praying to the gods above to help you out of this mess right now.

He was oddly quiet, that made you look at him. He stared at you, up, down, and then turned around. Without any words. You'd rather not mess with his graciousness again, so you also stayed silent throughout the process of caring for his gash, that was a lot bigger than expected. It would most definitely scar but he wouldn't die from a nasty infection at the very least.

When you were done you put some gauze around it, the other smaller wounds had pieces of fabric on them. You let your hands linger a little on his back muscles not wanting to finish out of nervousness of what he would say next and another part of you because you would be able to continue tracing along his body.

That thought in your mind made you stop, today was not your day. You were usually very professional about all your patients. But something about this man pulled you in. Maybe it was the endless scars that ran across his figure or the rough hand that had calluses from hard work, or the dark eyes that were now trained on you.

Dark eyes that were now trained on you.

You hurried a little out of your half kneeling form, not even noticing how one of your legs was on the sofa, knee buried in the soft cushioning.

You were stepping away a little when his hand shot out to grab your wrist.

"You know I don’t hurt women, I have honor as a warrior, as a man." He caressed your hands a little, looking at them, admiring them as if he wanted to figure out how your hands performed the magic of healing his wounds.

Your heart skipped a little at the contact. "I know." You did, he wasn't the type to do such a thing, not with a touch that soft.

"Say doctor, you would help me from all ailments, isn't that right?" He questioned.

"Of course." Had you missed a spot?

He looked up at you, pulling you into him, his chin resting on your stomach as your hands carefully landed on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, warming you and caging you against him. He was breathing you in for a few moments, seeming to enjoy the comfort of your closeness.

You couldn't imagine how long he must have been without human touch that wasn't violent or deadly. Someone to hold, to search comfort in.

If he needed that, you'd provide, after all you're a doctor and you just hate leaving your patients untreated.

Your hands wandered up his hair pulling his head back and leaning down and clasping your lips together. Climbing on top of him. You could tell hom much he missed this, messy kisses turning rushed and touches exploring every curve of your body. He tugged at a few stings attaching the flowy fabric of your tunic drop with the help of gravity. His hands finding their place on your waist. And yours making quick work of his pants.

"I missed this so much, you're so pretty, so good to me." You could honestly come from his words alone, your explorative touches from before had you thinking a little dirty before, now this was really happening.

"A true goddess sent down to heal me." His kisses just kept going. "Praise Venus for making you so desirable."

You'd never heard words like this from a man, only familiar with the degrading voice of men. He hiked you up slightly, easily lifting you. Getting you closer, your bodies touching in all places.

Your loincloth and breast covering were the next things to go, he was attaching himself immediately to suck onto your exposed boobs. Taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking, and letting go, looking up at you in pure mesmerism dripping from his orbs.

One hand moved down the curve of your back, over your butt and massaged your pussy. Massaging a few fingers over the sensitive slit.

"Jongho, my name, please, call for me." He paused each time, barely getting the words out over him working you up to your peak.

Your noises were unbelievably loud, you would have been embarrassed but you were too much in the moment to care. Moans and groans coming out of you without an ounce of control, Jongho stimulating you so well that you were praying that no gods above were watching this act between you two.

You were barely keeping yourself steadied, your arms slowly giving out. Jongho seemed to notice and flipped you onto the headrest of the couch, having placed himself between your legs. His fingers were now thrusting into you, you hadn't even notice him pumping them in until you really took a look. His big fingers took up so much space inside you, feeling like the biggest dick that you've had before.

He was still looking at you in that concentrated stare, fully intent on having you cum on his fingers. Which he did, only a moment later. Your teeth clenching muffling the loud moan that threatened to escape out of you. Your legs shaking and clamping against his hand, which was stimulating your clit in slow circles now.

It took you a few seconds to get back to earth and you noticed yourself being turned around, your knees propped up a little, stomach over the headrest now. Comfortable after tingles pouring through your nerves, leaving you sensitive.

You felt your entrance being touched with something wet, round, and big. You knew what it was, pushing slightly back to get him in you. You would be damned if you didn't get his cock in you today. Your prayers were answered at a moment’s notice, in the form of a stretching feeling, it burned a little despite the extensive amount of prep. You felt so full when you hear him mutter a little.

"Just a little more, you can take me." He wasn't even fully in and you felt like he was poking at your organs from the inside, brushing onto all the spots in you.

When he bottomed out you truly felt like you were being pushed to your limits, never having felt like this before.

He touched your stomach, pushing in slightly in amazement that you took him, praises falling from his lips, healing away the burn. When he started moving it felt like your insides were being pulled out, dragging long unfiltered moans out of you. Each thrust had him smacking a little harder against your ass, the skin-on-skin noises becoming almost as loud as you. He groaned and moaned when you clenched down especially hard.

"I could live like this, every day have you here spread on my cock. You'd like that wouldn't you little Nymph?" You fit him like a goddamn glove, he couldn’t even remember how sex felt like before this. Before this heavenly sensation.

"Just look at you." He pressed your back down a little, curving it slightly. And angled his thrusts, hitting even harder, knocking your breath out of you on occasion, not quite catching up on the pleasure and your breath.

You reached your hand back, calling his name, needing something to ground you and he obeyed, grabbing onto yours holding on. When his thrusts grew sloppier more desperate you knew he was close and you were too, screaming his name at the top of your lungs you came a second time.

He spilled himself into you at that, liquid filling you up just as much as his cock did. He carefully pulled out, grabbing a blanket that had been thrown down onto the ground and throwing it over you.

You must absolutely look like a mess but he leans down to press a kiss to your lips connecting you two for a few seconds, stopping himself to not have you cumming and bent over in the next few minutes again, as much as he enjoyed to do that. He pulled you into his arms, your head resting on his sweaty chest.

"Let's sleep or you're gonna be the death of me little Nymph." He kissed your head.

That made you remember, his wounds, making you sit up in his arms and checking him over.

"Jongho! you're bleeding."

He grumbled. Not bothered in the slightest. He pulled you down again, keeping you secured along his body. Not letting you leave his embrace and acess the damage properly.

"You can check on those anytime from now on, don't worry."

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

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

Masterlist

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Seven

(Or, Alastor and the infuriating woman across the hall and her bad decision making)

Minors DNI, 18+ below

Across the hall, Alastor sat on the edge of his bed naked except for his unbuttoned shirt, head in his hands. He stared down at the proof of his lack of control, his seed that had been captured in his handkerchief and left on the floor as a reminder of this act of weakness. What was happening to him? He had never felt such urges of a sexual nature before, there was always a better way to spend his time. Even overworld, he was ambitious in his passion - there was no time to dilly dally with the fairer sex, broadcasting was an aggressive career path, even more so for a mixed person like him. He required focus, driven to prove himself to those who doubted him.

When his mother fell ill, his sisters - married with children, did not ask for but received his help. He moved his mother into his home for a comfortable life with visits from doctors as her body betrayed her. It was difficult watching her waste away, and he used his extracurricular hobby to distract him from watching her deteriorate. He couldn’t remember the exact reason for the first murder, his routine had not been established yet. But the thrill, the joy, the stimulation of taking the life of an undeserving human blessed with a healthy body while his mothers failed hers gave him a high like no other.

He was quite aware that becoming a prolific serial killer was not the best way to process grief and trauma, nor was it what his mother would have wanted from him. But it seemed like the best way to punish god for taking from those that deserve, that praised him, to enrich the lives of those that mocked. He did commit murder, yes. But it was morally argued (to him) that those lives he took were unwarranted of such a gift. They were liars and cheats, rapists and abusers - one of his final victims he discovered on the same burial ground where he discarded bodies, while this stranger was disposing of his own victim.

He was well deserving indeed, the cause for many young women disappearing off the streets. Mimzy had told him of a John coming by and taking women out who would never be seen again. Once they discovered each other, there was a fight in the bayou, one where Alastor would come out on top but the thrill of fighting his victim became part of his routine, unable to match the same energy without it. He held no qualms about his final actions in life, he had made his choices and Hell was the place to reflect on it but not regret it.

Redemption was not in his cards as he did not feel he would be able to even regret killing the people he murdered. Each and everyone deserved it. Likely the only regret he carried was that one night he did not come home, his death resulting in his mothers inevitable loneliness paired with the discovery that her son was a murderer. He might not have been considered a ‘good’ person in the end, finding more joy in murder than anything else, but he did think he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.

Since your arrival, his entire being has shifted into something…new. Beyond the bond the two of you shared through his reckless behaviour on earth, you were a fresh sinner. You still acted, spoke, dreamed like you were alive. He heard you constantly correcting yourself when talking with the others, to remember you were dead. Though your own task work through the hotel had been quiet, seemingly boring, you did it with a vibrancy he had not felt himself for decades. Your heart rate would increase when laughing with Angel, your cheeks would burn when Husk would give you a strong drink - things that made him live through it either in his room or while he lurked in the shadows. Nothing he did was ever alone anymore. You were something else entirely, and he was unsure if he would not be feeling anything with regards to your presence, you reminded everyone around you what it was like to be alive.

Yet there was a small voice that betrayed his very way of thinking, one that caused grief when it came to you. He knew very well that without your accidental completion of the half witted, unfinished spell work he truly did forget about, your soul would likely have gone to heaven. Though the judgement between sinners and ‘winners’ was not absolute in who was allowed to ascend, souls like yours did not settle with the scum that was found traversing the streets of Hell. You found a radio while cleaning up for a family you did not know, on break from your simple, modest lifestyle splitting your time from volunteering, or running marathons, or bouncing from one job to another trying to find your path through life. You rarely said anything negative, about anyone, unless it was an honest truth needed to be heard from the one you were talking to. Even then your words were gentle and caring. It was very clear it was his fault you were here, with him. Your soul came to join with the linked soul…and he was here first.

His hands fisted the hair on his head, eyes furrowed and smile shaking. Was his divine punishment supposed to continue with the fact he knew he sabotaged your afterlife? Or that the new emotions and sensations he was feeling were undeserved of someone of your calibre? Did you have similar thoughts? These questions plagued him for a multitude of reasons. For one, it was unlike him to care what anyone thought of him, for another, it was unlike him to care for another. Especially to lust after another. Sexual relations had been such an easy thing for him to avoid that now it seemed his mind was trying to make up for lost time. Everything you did was beginning to send him into a spiral, and much of the time he spent around you was containing his physical reaction to the simplistic things you did, that he would twist into something sinful.

Like today, when you were finally given breakfast, your eyes closing and lips licking as you ate whatever over sugared pastry Lucifer had grabbed for you. It was easy to imagine you in another situation, one away from prying eyes. Where the two of you could push and pull differing sensations through your bond, linking the two of you through sin. Or earlier this week, when you were reading a book in the sitting room, focused on the words on the pages, licking your fingers to turn a page, or wetting your lips during an intense storyline. He was entirely too focused on you and your actions, and the worst part was he was unsure if he could simply blame the tainted magic of your bond.

You were a demented reminder of what he had denied himself in life, a ballooning heart at every fleeting touch. He was having a difficult time remembering what he used to do or what made his mind content before you. He needed to revisit old haunts. Perhaps today he would take a walk through the doomsday district and take a few people out of their misery. Since he introduced you to Rosie she was likely not a safe place to ignore your presence as you had never once brought anyone of considerable interest for her to meet before, she would have some interrogating for him once he revisited Cannibal Town.

Yes, a visit through a district where people were. Most itching to get the worst of it over with, it was already expected by them. His presence would be doing them a favour, really. Yes, a reminder of what used to get his blood boiling before you came crashing down into his life would be an excellent distraction. Mind set on his next move, he cleaned and dressed himself for a night on the town, silently exiting the hotel with intention.

The next morning after your very intense and unexpected kiss from Alastor, your body still felt exhausted, almost like you had overextended yourself. You didn’t remember your dreams, but you were sure they were a mental drain considering the headache you were nursing. Coffee was in the Lounge, and Vaggie was sitting alone on a couch, still silent and distressed from her past coming out to the hotel. You had already reassured her that none of you really cared, this was hell, after all. But for her the only person who mattered was still avoiding her. She had been staying in a vacant room since the meeting with heaven, wanting to respect Charlie’s wish for space. You decided to enjoy your coffee on the veranda outside, wanting to give the other woman some space, and hopefully aid your head with some fresh air.

While you were checking the Hellblazer News, a small independent paper produced out of the business district, Angel came home from what was obviously a long night at the studio. When he noticed you he came and sat beside you, groaning and sinking into the chair.

“Val has been dogging me since we went out, he is so much worse than usual.” He complained, checking his phone notifications, clearing all the ones from Val, which were nearly all of them. “I’m not saying that I regret what I said, because there was no way I was lettin’ him touch anyone, but I wish I could do more than just pay for it later.” You nodded at his statement, but said nothing to encourage him to continue.

“When I came to hell I carried my sexuality like a burden, like I did overworld. It was way easier to get drugs down here, and I was easy to manipulate. I know it was my fault I gave my soul to Val because I thought he loved me, but I wish I could go back to my old self and let him know I didn’t need his love to feel good.” He sighed, enjoying a moment of silence while responding to a few texts. “Please tell me you have had shit men ruin your life too, miss girl, this can’t just be a one way street.” He smiled at his own statement, winking at you when you chuckled lightly at his self deprecating comment. You gave him an apologetic look, as your experience with men in general was pretty limited.

“My dad died when I was little, so no daddy issues…or does that give you extra daddy issues?” You said more to yourself, but Angel laughed out a ‘yea baby’ at your expense, “My mother was paranoid, positive every man ever was going to kidnap me. When she died I dated for the first time, straight out of high school, but he wasn’t bad or anything…just…I don’t know, someone to kill time with. I had no one around me, my family was small except for my Mum’s distant family in Louisiana, so I just used a dating app to waste time. But overall, my experiences have been pretty uneventful.” Mind you, this was all before Alastor, which you would not be discussing with Angel.

Angel was nodding, likely half paying attention as he was yawning every other minute, but just engaging in the conversation was good. These regular gossipy conversations distracted from your situation, which though you had mostly processed, still didn’t mean you always remembered you were in Hell. Even when you thought you knew what hell really was you were reminded of worse things you dealt with when you were actually Alive. Hell had friends, at least. Something that was sorely lacking in your life before.

“So are ya tellin’ me you don’t gotta lot of ‘experience’ with the opposite sex, girly?” He waggled his eyebrows, a smirky grin present. OH now he was engaged, because he was nosy about your sex life.

You laughed at him out right. “I’ve done…stuff, Angel. No like…actual sex, but like…oral and hands and things. The guy I did it with was selfish, and he hurt me when he tried using his hands - not a good listener. So I broke it off before we could go further. I had a feeling I wouldn’t enjoy it much. I’m pretty in tune with my own body though, and I did have some personal aides on earth. But I’ve always been more comfortable with myself.” Angel gawked at you during your ramble, you knew what was coming. “Are you tellin’ me that you’re basically a virgin?” You groaned.

“No. I mean, in the most literal sense? Yes. But I have used toys, and have had sexual contact with a guy, but honestly I don’t think of myself as one. I know what I like, and I’m totally content with that. There haven’t been many opportunities for me to hook up. Especially now, cause like…we’re in hell.” Angel burst out laughing.

“Hell is WHERE you get these opportunities! You are hilarious. Funny girl, you kill me.” You frowned at him in humour as he lost his composure. “This is where I have experienced most of my sexual escapades, and I am sure glad for it. No judgement here, that already happened.”

You spoke up in defence of yourself, “well what if I’m still waiting for a deeper connection?” He scoffed at you, back at his phone, “I can get ya a deep connection, if you get what I mean.” Eyebrows taunting you, and you burst into laughter again, causing him to join in. After a good chuckle, you both settled into your chairs, just enjoying each other's company as Angel scrolled through his social media and you hit the bottom of your cup. It was him who broke the silence.

“I gotta real question for ya though. What is your deal with Alastor?” You tried to snort and look indifferent to him, but Angel was so goddamn good at reading people you were unsure if it would work. “What do you mean?” Attempting to sound confused at his insinuation. His deadpan look of reply made you groan inwardly. “Girl, I’m good at lots of things, but I’m best at picking up tension. Especially of the s~exual nature.” He ran his tongue over his teeth and gave you his famous seductive eye. You thought you were keeping yourself together, hopefully you could keep it going.

You laughed, swatting your hand at him, “Me? And Him? Wait no, Him? Sexual anything? Are you sure we're thinking of the same Radio Demon? He can barely stand me, Angel, I’m sure whatever tension you’re picking up on is simply murderous.” You couldn’t meet his eyes however, staring at the horizon instead, scared the contact would break your composure.

He hmphed. “Girl, if it was murderous you couldn’t be here after he left your room last night.” Shit, he saw Alastor leave your room? Sloppy on his part. You had to go into damage control. “Nothing happened, Angel. Lucifer, Alastor and I went out earlier. And as you know, Alastor does not care for Lucifer. He was merely confirming some of the final details of Lucifer's plans, as he chose to ignore the man for a majority of our excursion.” Man, Hell was making you a great liar.

“Girl.” Okay, maybe not a great liar.

“He was zoned in on your room. On my way back to my room, he flew out of his like a bat out of here, and the vibes he was givin’ was not ‘just wanna double check a few things’, it was obvious. Plus, I didn’t hear no talking, cause your door was open. I heard some other stuff though. Sounded hot.” This was when your face broke, and a blush flew across your face. Angel’s laugh of confirmation got you to look over at him.

“Re-Lax. As if anyone would believe me if I said anything anyway. He’s a creepy mystery. And if he’s hot for you, you’ve gotta be some kinda creepy mystery as well. Cause whatever you did last night made him terrorise the doomsday district after.” He had stood up at this point, stretching so much his back cracked and he sighed in relief.

“Wait, what?” You said once his words caught up to you. “What did he do?”

Angel yawned, and tucked his chair in, leaning on it towards you. “Last night, after he left your room, he went and went full Radio Demon on their asses. Like, mass genocide shit.” Another yawn, he waved a hand at you, “I’m goin’ to bed doll. I’m beat, but yea. You wanna keep thinking nothing is happening between the two of you, you can join me on a double tonight.” You were so concentrated on your own whirlwind thoughts, you asked him to repeat himself. “You wanna join me on my double?”

“Double?” Double what? He groaned. “Fuckin’ virgins man, a double date. Cherry was gonna join me but she’s just bailed, something about blowing up a building on the edge of Vee town. Can’t blame her for wanting to but I can’t go, Val would literally kill me.” A double date? Good grief. Was that a good idea? What exactly was going on with you and Alastor anyway? It wasn’t like you two had any real discussion, you both were just playing a game of touch and go (quite literally). You hadn’t thought too much about him outside of that though. You obviously were physically attracted to him, somehow, despite his frightening existence. But was it because of the bond or because of the growing tolerance to each other's presence? You supposed there was only one way to start figuring it out.

If Alastor needed to kill a bunch of people to figure his shit out, perhaps you could do the same with dates. Angel was right, you didn’t have a lot of experience with men. Maybe you could have a similar connection (though not so binding), at least emotionally, with another person? Who knows. You reluctantly agreed to join Angel, deciding getting out of the hotel, away from Alastor, might help you think. After getting the details from him he left, and you sat in your chair, instantly regretting what you had just agreed to. And regretting that you would have to convince Husk to 3rd wheel with the two of you. You groaned, rubbing and squishing your face with your hands.

Later that night, after complete Radio Silence from Alastor save for his actual broadcast of jazzy upbeat lackadaisical tunes, Angel dressed you up like a little doll and the two of you all but skipped downstairs, geared up to go. You were going to be walking to this club called ‘Lounge’. It served appetisers, cocktails and had live music. It really sounded like a good time and when you focused on that part, not the date, you were pretty stoked. The dress code was semi-strict, according to Angel, and he had chosen a tight black turtleneck dress that went down to your knees, but lacked sleeves. Because of this, the black gradient on your arms made it look like you were wearing opera gloves. Paired with strappy black pumps, you felt pretty fancy. Angel had dressed in a similar style, but instead of a turtleneck, the neckline was sweetheart, and on the stomach was a cutout in the shape of a heart. He wore his standard black boots up to the top of his thighs, and his hair was more tousled than usual. You hair had been pinned back into a loose updo, and the both of you had little gemstones sprinkled in your hair. Husk promised to follow behind the two of you, Angel oblivious to your little shadow, chattering about whoever it was that his date brought for you.

As you entered the club, you kept looking back, nervous until you saw Husk enter and make his way to the bar. You joined Angel in a booth, him texting presumably your dates and ordering the both of you cocktails. Whatever a Blue Hurricane was, it was delicious. But remembering the last time you got drunk you were certainly going to be taking it easy.

As the missing pair arrived, it was obvious that you would not be having a good time. The friend of Angel’s date was a weasel demon, which was the first warning. One bit you when you were a kid and the scar was still present to prove it. The second was when you first met, he was so vulgar that Husk almost got involved, thankfully catching you shaking your head furiously. You let the man talk, on and on, about what he did, liked, positions…Yea, this was a shit date.

He finally picked up that you were uninterested entirely, or he thought hitting on the waitress in front of you was smooth, you texted Angel that you were going to walk home (no worries, it wouldn’t be alone) and thanked him for inviting you out. He read it at the table and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye and you left the table. Weasel demon nowhere in sight. You noticed Husk had left the bar, and you caught him as he was walking out the door, following your lead at the table. When you caught up to him, his sly smile made you laugh. “Did it look as bad as it went?”

”Dunno, how bad did it go?” The face you gave him made him laugh. “Bad. Really bad.” He smiled, “Well then yes. It looked bad. A shame really, you don’t get out much.” The two of you engaged in some polite conversation as you walked back to the hotel, Husk talking about how he used to wine and dine women when he was alive, how his luck wasn’t limited to just the table and blackjack. He was certain he had more than a few illegitimate children running around, he played fast and loose in all games, with all genders. By the time you both arrived back home, Husk was reliving how he would go to a hangout and dance all night with any girl he wanted. When you admitted no one had ever taken you dancing, he held out his hand and asked you to join him.

”But there’s no music! I may not have been dancing but I know you need music.” You exclaimed, finding the suggestion silly without the complete experience. Husk started to hum a song unfamiliar to you, and you chuckled, grabbing his hand and falling into an awkward waltz. Or at least you thought it was a waltz. It was some form of a box step, but it seemed like Husk wasn’t so much a dancer as he was a charmer. Though it appeared both of you had no structure, you were having a good time, until Husk stopped suddenly and took a step back. Your arms still lifted up, as if they were waiting for him to step back into place, and you faced the direction Husk had started to glare at.

Alastor.

He was at the very bottom of the stairs, head tilted. “What~ever are the two of you doing?” He began to come towards you as your hands lowered. Finding yourself less afraid of him these days, you spoke up. “I’ve never been dancing and I just had the absolute worst time on a date with Angel. Husk was cheering me up, and for that-“ You faced him, “I thank you. Best part of the night, although I wish the music was a bit clearer.” He smiled slyly and tipped his hat to you as he bowed, “Pleasure was all mine. Alastor, give the kid a break, she deserves a nice night out. Not tonight, but eventually.” Alastor had raised a brow and inspected your outfit, nodding in approval to the other man’s words.

”I see. That will be all Husker, you may leave.” Alastor waved him off, telling him to leave rather than suggesting it. Husk made eye contact with you and you shrugged. Alastor was picking under his nails with the same hands claws, seeming bored. Husk rolled his eyes and gave you a salute as he walked down the hall to one of the lower rooms for residents.

“Well my dear, I am afraid that you simply keep making mistakes, what a shame.” You groaned at his tone, closing your eyes to maintain composure.

“What do you mean, Alastor? Agreeing to be Angel’s ‘double?’” You finger quoted at the last word, making an obnoxious face to lay it on thick. “I know. Never again, I don’t know why I listened to him in the first place.”

”Well yes, that too I suppose. But I meant having Husker show you how to dance! Why I’ll have you know I was quite the dancer back in my day,” He pointed his microphone at the Radio in the Foyer and it started to play an upbeat, jazzy melody. He conjured his microphone away and grabbed your hand, leading you into a fast paced dance. You didn’t know what on earth was happening, but Alastor was an excellent lead. You found yourself laughing as he spun you about, trying to keep up with him - he wasn’t kidding, he was fantastic at this! He held on to both of your hands, which was great because you were so focused on his feet and trying to copy them, by the time the 3rd song started you were a bit more confident in your footwork but you were already out of breath. Holy crow dancing must have been a requirement in the 20s and 30s because Alastor barely looked as if he shed a drop of sweat yet. When you finally met his eyes, his smile wide as always, he let go of one of your hands to put you into a spin and bring you back.

The song ended, and he brought the two of you to a closer, slower dance, the song slowing. You found it hard to meet his face, but he thankfully broke the silence first. “How was that?! Quite the dancer, aren’t I?” He smiled at what looked like it could have been…real? Realer than most of his smiles. “Yes! I am impressed! Quite the dancer indeed. What was that dance? What did I do very terribly there for the last 15 minutes?”

He laughed at your joke, “That was the Fox-Trot dear, and something called the Black Bottom, though I mix it up a bit to keep it interesting.” He let you go entirely and the music faded into the background. You took a moment to catch your breath and race through the events that just happened. Date = bad. Husk = adorable. Alastor…Considerate? This was the most physical contact the two of you had with one another, and it certainly made you think. Just earlier today you assumed that your connection with this demon was only because of the bond, but here the two of you were, simply dancing like idiots in a Hell Hotel foyer, Alastor now rambling off about the songs he played and the meanings. You politely followed along without really listening, hyper focused on what you were feeling.

He just showed you he could be gentle, and fun. Patient when you stepped on his feet, and considerate as he gave you the instructions on what step to take next. Now he was looking at you and talking to you - honestly. Why was he constantly putting you in a state of confusion? 20 minutes with Alastor was proving to be leagues better than the hour plus date you went on tonight. Obviously your revelation gave you a certain look, because Alastor had interrupted your thoughts with a question. “And what, may I ask, are you in such deep thought about?” Raised brow, microphone back in his hand as he used it to lean on with both hands.

You quirked a lip, trying to figure out the right words to use. “I’m thinking about how 20 minutes with you had been a great end to my date since the first 2 hours were garbage. I am also thinking about how this is one of the first times we’ve spent time together that didn’t end up getting…a little heated.” He made a small noise of understanding before the two of you fell into a silence.

Ah yes, you were a mood killer. Grand. You kicked at the absolute nothing on the rug and announced you were heading to bed. You thanked him for the dancing, did a curtsy in response to his polite bow, and headed up the stairs.

Shoes and dress off, shower done and makeup removed, you were resting on the bed in your pyjamas, a button up short sleeved silk set with shorts. They were in a deep burgundy colour that flattered your colouring. The entire shower was spent thinking about your time with Alastor downstairs and how he obviously had no freaking clue what was going on, just like you had no idea what was happening between the two of you. It was clear there was more than just a physical connection, judging by how you were over analysing everything you had ever said to the man, hoping you never really sounded like an idiot after that first couple of days. There was a small knock on your door and when you opened it, Alastor was there, though he was a couple steps away this time.

”Evening my dear, I hope you have had time to freshen up.” He said, dipping his head a bit. “May I…come in?” You stared at him, unsure of what you were to do.

“Do you…do you think that would be a good idea?” You asked, not entirely against it but also confused by the fact he would even want to come in. “Well,” he started, picking off some non-existent lint from his microphone in an attempt to look nonplussed, “that depends on what sort of night you want to have, my dear.” Oooh trouble. That voice meant trouble. The kind of trouble that went straight to your crotch and lit your body on fire. Alastor’s facial response to your physical change was a toothy grin and a ‘mmhmm’ reverberating from his mouth. Embarrassed, but curious, you walked backwards back to the bed, sitting on the edge as Alastor came in smoothly and shut the door. He took a moment to look around the room you had attempted to make your own, inspecting every little addition, every detail. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke.

”I find you infuriating.”

“I…beg your pardon?” From the way your imagination was spinning all sorts of potential scenarios, this was not one of them. “Could you…elaborate?”

“I find you infuriating.” Okay, double infuriating. You waited. “Since you have arrived, I am unable to rid my thoughts of you. Your very presence has been invading my routines, my self expectations and responsibilities. I find myself skirting around more urgent matters just to catch a glance at you from a distance. You are making my mind and body betray the very way that I am! It is confusing, irritating and I am unsure if I would be willing to change that now that it has happened.”

You processed the words. Did he just imply he was glad all these things were happening? “Angel said that you went on a killing spree in the doomsday district, did you?” A slight tangent, but your curiosity was itching to find out. “Yes.” Was his curt reply. “Was that because…of me? Us? This-“ you guestured between the two of you, “-thing?” He came to stand between you, eyes lowered but not angry. He was quite unreadable at this moment. “Yes…and no.”

He bent over and grabbed one side of your collar to stroke the fabric between his thumb and 2 forefingers. “I went there because Hell needs a reminder that I am around, and I haven’t changed. But I also went-“ He popped the top button of your shirt open, “-because after our…moment, I felt a certain way, and I was concerned about how far I would deter from my pattern of behaviour if I stayed only across the hall from the source of all of these changes.” Button number two popped open and he lifted your chin to guide your eyes to his. “May I?” He asked, waiting for permission. You could only nod, your cheeks flaring up and you could feel this blush start to spread down your chest and shoulders. What the fuck was happening?

He unbuttoned the next 3 buttons that fastened your shirt together before putting his hand on your sternum and gently pushing you back so you were laying on the bed, looking up at him while your knees dangled off the edge of the bed. Your shirt covered a majority of your skin, but he took his claw and ran it up from your exposed navel to stop at your collar bone. The movement sent chills down your spine, but you laid still, hands beside your hips and formed into fists. He then ran his claw back down, and the resulting effect was a very small moan from your lips.

He brought his hand back up, his knuckle coming to rub the rib underneath your left breast, the movement causing the shirt to fall to the slide, exposing you. Your nipple started to peak slightly, but only for a second before Alastor bent down and took it straight into his mouth. Your shoulders jerked in response, and you could hear a tandem moan to your own. He was carefully toying with your left nipple with his teeth, while his left hand performed similar ministrations to your right nipple. Almost immediately you were over stimulated, pussy throbbing and clit pulsing. Alastor jerked his own hips as you smacked your head back against the mattress and fisted the blankets beside you.

He swapped his mouth to the other side, repeating the same actions, humming while he held them in mouth, causing you to groan. His knee came to rest on the bed, forcing your own knees apart. He was still fully clothed, and he brought his knee up until it rested against the heat of your cunt. He put pressure on it, and you groaned loudly, the sensation overwhelming. He was barely even touching you with his fingers and he had you soaking. Very quickly you felt the familiar build up at the bottom of your stomach, it was happening so fast it was nearly painful. The combination of his knee moving against your sensitive clit, the pinching and biting of your nipples mixed with the reflective arousal that you could feel from the bond with Alastor - who was just as tense with pleasure, had you slipping into despair chasing that release.

You raised your hands and brought them to his head, running your hands up behind his neck to run your fingers through his hair, only for him to grab both of your wrists and pin them beside your head on the bed. He was just slowly teasing one nipple at a time, puckering one up and blowing air on it, shifting his knee to change the pressure to your crotch, smiling wider as your moans escaped your lips. You tried to look down at him while he was overstimulating your body but it was too much for your brain to handle. How on earth had things come to this? You said his name in a shakily manner, stuttering over the first syllable and he hmmd a knowing response, picking up the pace of his ministrations, focusing his mouth on what the two of you discovered was the more sensitive one, knee pushing hard into you. Your hips were moving in a rhythmic motion to increase the friction, and your head was nodding back and forth as you allowed the buildup of pleasure to create a knot in the bottom of your stomach. Suddenly the knot tightened, and then snapped as your orgasm flooded through your body. Your moan of release was animalistic, unlike any sound that had come from you before, and your chest raised, having your head balance on your crown as your body arched to aid in release. A second after you started your release you felt Alastors body jerk in response, moving his hips to help with his own orgasm.

The two of you rode it out together, before he settled on his elbows on either side of you, allowing his body to rest on top of yours. His knees lowered to the floor at the foot of the bed, your own knees closed around his hips as the two of you caught your breath. It was suddenly stifling in your room, the smell of sex strongly pungent in the air. You stared at the ceiling, processing what was easily the strongest orgasm of your life as your mind raced.

Looking down at Alastor he was breathing deeply through his mouth, but his eyes were closed and furrowed. You tested his boundaries by letting your hands wander to his arms and let them rest on him. He didn’t move, and you didn’t push further by going farther, but the two of you laid there until your heartbeats settled. It was clear neither of you knew how to proceed, you were still confused about the turn of events and Alastor was confused how he allowed his basic instincts take over his better judgement.

He initially came to your door to…well for what, he didn’t even know. It certainly wasn’t thought out to pounce on you like a wild animal and bring you to a very intense orgasm that wracked through his own body and presumably ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers. This touch and go, push and pull bond between the two of you was making things difficult to process what he was actually thinking. Lately he was finding it harder and harder to avoid wanting to seek out these responses for you. His own lack of experience and overwhelming emotions that your presence had sparked in him has flipped his world, and he was unsure of how he would, or even if he could revert back into the cool, unaffected overlord demeanour that he had spent nearly a century perfecting. Where did he find those ritual runes again? Someone would have to pay for it, yes decades after the fact.

As you patiently waited, you fought a silent yawn, and found yourself slowly slipping into a comfortable state of pre-sleep. Alastor’s weight on top of you and your recent orgasm was a perfect concoction for restful sleep, and as your breathing slowed down and your lids became heavy, you slipped into slumber hoping that you weren’t coming across as rude (hey, he wasn’t saying anything either) but a part of you that was larger than you thought wished he would be there when you woke up.

Alastor however was grateful you were losing your battle within yourself and falling asleep, because it would make the next few steps much easier and far less awkward for him. He felt perhaps like a hormonal youth would, his lesser brain controlling the body devoid of any intellectual thought. As your breathing steadied into a rhythmic pattern he knew it was safe to move. He braced his head up off your chest and put his chin on his folded hands, propped up by his elbows that still rested on either side of you. He looked down at your peaceful face, content and already with a look of someone in deep sleep. Your face still had a residual flush on it, and your lashes twitched as his own breath hit your face after a long release of air he had been holding in.

Honestly if he was to be linked with someone in such a way, he considered himself lucky it was with someone like you. You were polite, very intelligent about the things you loved, held great conversation and, most importantly, you generally listened to what he had to say. And not that he put much merit into it being in hell, but you were also very pleasant to look at. Beauty fades on earth, but Hell was ageless. Though your demon form had been clearly influenced by his own, he was unsure of what other form you might take had this not happened. Still prey, he noted strongly, perhaps a rabbit or a dog - you were entirely too energetic and loyal. A thought he would focus on another day however, right now his task at hand was to escape without disturbing anyone or anything and clean himself up.

As he rose your body shifted immediately seeking out warmth. He used his tendrils to assist in moving you under the covers, fixing your shirt before using his own hands to tuck you in. He did not have a good answer to why he chose to do that himself, but as he left, the warm light dimmed as his shadows took him into his own room to address his mental anguish alone. He needed to sort out this thing that was starting to build up inside of him, and quickly. This extermination was suddenly far more complicated then the ones that preceded it.

Time was running out, and everyone knew it.

______

I know Alastor is an only child in canon, but he is so scripted as a man with sisters and therefore I live in de-lulu and write it as such.

Sorry for the delay, I’m trying my very best to make sexual moments not awkward and believable. And the idea that real people read it gives me anxiety.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016 @mo-0-o @blakeaha @mutifandomkid @ministarheaven @nightingale0603 @loadedwafflefries @rizzscary @bishiglomper @vividachromatic @fluffy-koalala @mkaella @readergirlstuff @xalygatorx @otherthoughtsofbu @phamtasic @midorichoco @hazbin-h0etel @white-00-7 @little-slyvixen @zzzykiek @iheartalastor

[barrenclan]

I don't know if this song has been suggested yet but 15 Step by Radiohead for Rainhaze? Not just for the "one by one / it comes to us all / it's as soft as your pillow" (in reference to how he perceived death) but if you're willing to skew the optimism in the first verse, I see it as the line where he finally 'realizes' what Defiance is all about - when he finally sheds the Old Rainhaze for the new one by killing Asphodelpaw ("first you reel me out and then you cut the string"). Plus, there's a very on the nose reference that I see Ranger making to him in relation to finding out about Barrenclan ("you used to be alright, what happened? / did the cat get your tongue? / did your string come undone?") which is conveniently immediately before the Death lines.

And with recent developments (I had this ask planned for a while lol) now the "You used to be alright, what happened?" ...Ohhhh that hits. The difference between the mocking tone of Ranger the first time around, and then the second time the verse is repeated, it being cut off with "etcetera, etcetera..." which I either interpret as Rainhaze being unable to finish 'convincing' the rest of Barrenclan because he got interrupted then Tigerstar'd... Much to think about.

Anyway love this comic, been following it (and TDS!) since day 1, can't believe it's been so many years of it. At least one. You have a talent for storytelling!! I can't wait to see what you have planned for the future, big fan!

Haven't heard this one yet! But I'm always happy to get some Radiohead. I'm very flattered you've been enjoying the comic, and following my stories for so long.

Ooh, I always like getting instrumental music recommendations! I've never seen LOST, but both my parents watched it while it was airing. PATFW is definitely a mystery story, although I like to think I got to my resolutions better than JJ did. Giacchino is a great scorer of course, I like how this song is sad, sweet, and a little ominous. Reminds me of Twin Peaks.

Haha yes, it's definitely a popular suggestion for a popular song. But it is very pretty, and I do like the themes of burial and fighting to try and restrain someone who won't be restrained.

You can't keep them all caged They will fight and run away Mother, tell me so I say

Barren curtains that you're weaving Like the stories that you keep inside your head She can't keep them all safe They will die and be afraid

Oh... yeah. Anything with scary angel imagery fits very well for her, because I heavily associate Asphodelpaw with Laura Palmer.

Carry me in your teeth with tender jaws of sympathy (Arrow deep inside the meat Impossible for us to reach)

Shattered in a mist of crippled, angel silhouettes Lift the dirt, and cover me Lay at my side until I'm finally sleeping Until I'm finally sleeping

I like it! Comorantpaw has a strong streak of self-hatred and lately, is very much feeling like he's permanently stained with evil because of his past. But he still wants to be there for Pinepaw, maybe thinking it's all he's good for.

Bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze If you must drink of me, take of me what you please I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste I've been with the devil in the devil's resting place

Come up here to speak to me and hold your face to mine Any man can hold my gaze has done his job just fine You just sold your life away to be with me tonight Hold your head against my chest, I think you'll be just fine

Classic Glass Animals! I think it captures the feeling of Issue 38 well.

Everything, waiting, shaking as it drops I tried for you and I, for too hard, for too long Gave it all and everything for more time, but I lost

… Ooh, I'm breaking down Whispers would deafen me now You don't make a sound Heartbreak was never so loud

Hahah! Yeah, this fits them well.

What did I do to deserve you? How did you find me? I was already halfway gone You were a bright light You were a fistfight, oh

Our love is older than the Great Wall Our love spins a gun around its finger Our love has found its way into our mouths before Cut our teeth until we swallow it whole

Great Rainhaze song! It gets at that fatalistic, manic energy he has that's especially evident in Issue 37.

Losing my mind It never felt so good to be alive Crucify my name I never felt more famous than today, where I am no one To nothing

Lose your mind baby You'll never feel so good to be alive, I say again I say erase your name, sweet honey You'll never feel more famous than today, where you are no one (no one)

I believe it was suggested a couple years ago with Hush Puppy and Thrasher, but not Rainhaze! It's an interesting angle to make it about him and Ranger.

One last kiss I love you like a broken pot One last kiss I love you like a pack of dogs One last kiss I need you like I need a gaping head wound

[autistichalsin]

You know what the saddest thing in the world is though?

When you raid the grove, but leave Halsin alive, allowing him to show up at your campsite later for revenge.

This is a man with an entire life of trauma and more to the point, survivor guilt. He lost his entire family. He has been kidnapped and enslaved before- and during that enslavement, he saw the trophified bodies of other elves as a reminder of what would happen to him if he misbehaved. He witnessed the start of the Shadow Curse and in turn watched almost all his friends die. He spent 100 years trying to fix it, so desperate that he jumped on the chance the first time an untrustworthy adventurer said he was going near. His companions then abandoned him and allowed him to be captured, where he was tortured.

So imagine you're Halsin, right, desperate to see your home and loved ones again, fighting to hold on as the goblins do all kinds of awful shit to you. You meet another stranger who breaks you out of the cage and agrees to help you kill the leadership so your Grove, which you know is in danger, will be safe. They even tell you to stay back and rest while they do it, how nice! Man, you got lucky. You really owe this stranger so much. You can't wait to talk to them and repay the debt by imparting your knowledge of their condition on them.

The leaders leave, which worries you, so you wildshape and go as fast as you can to your home. And then you find the bodies of everyone you care for strewn around, not even given the dignity of a grave or cremation, and the entire place sacked. Your place of worship desecrated and turned into the site of a massacre. And you can't even give them a burial because you don't know if the leaders are coming back, if you're next.

Once again you're the only survivor and you don't even know why it's you and not one of them. Once again you're left with the crushing guilt of surviving when those you love did not. You weep for them and steel yourself- the murderers must die. Painfully.

So you run and you gather up some animal friends who you grew close to here, asking them to help you avenge the Grove. They're devastated and angered and agree to it at once.

You show up at the murderer's campsite, enraged, and they're awfully dismissive about the whole thing, even trying to talk you down, as though that could be possible. You bluntly tell them that there's nothing left to say as your mercy died when you saw that bloodbath. You're going to avenge your loved ones and your home, their murderers are going to die to right the wrongs, and that's that.

And then you fail. You aren't strong enough to overcome the sheer numbers advantage they have over you and your animal companions. The animals die, and then so do you. As you die, you hear one of them mocking you, "first Druid, and now last Druid, thanks to us."

That's your legacy. Last Druid of the Emerald Grove.

There's a lot of sad, sad fates that can befall the characters in this game, but that's easily got to be one of the most tragic and least deserved in the entire game.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus Brought before Pilate

1 When morning came, all the chief priests and the elders of the people conferred together against Jesus in order to bring about his death. 2 They bound him, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate the governor.

The Suicide of Judas

3 When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. 4 He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” 5 Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself. 6 But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money.” 7 After conferring together, they used them to buy the potter’s field as a place to bury foreigners. 8 For this reason that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. 9 Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah, “And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of the one on whom a price had been set, on whom some of the people of Israel had set a price, 10 and they gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord commanded me.”

Pilate Questions Jesus

11 Now Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” 12 But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. 13 Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” 14 But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

Barabbas or Jesus?

15 Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. 16 At that time they had a notorious prisoner called Jesus Barabbas. 17 So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” 18 For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. 19 While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” 20 Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. 21 The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” 22 Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” 23 Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!”

Pilate Hands Jesus Over to Be Crucified

24 So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” 25 Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” 26 So he released Barabbas for them, and after flogging Jesus he handed him over to be crucified.

The Soldiers Mock Jesus

27 Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. 28 They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, 29 and after twisting some thorns into a crown they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” 30 They spat on him and took the reed and struck him on the head. 31 After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

The Crucifixion of Jesus

32 As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon; they compelled this man to carry his cross. 33 And when they came to a place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull), 34 they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall, but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. 35 And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots; 36 then they sat down there and kept watch over him. 37 Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.”

38 Then two rebels were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. 39 Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads 40 and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” 41 In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking him, saying, 42 “He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. 43 He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to, for he said, ‘I am God’s Son.’ ” 44 The rebels who were crucified with him also taunted him in the same way.

The Death of Jesus

45 From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. 46 And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 47 When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “This man is calling for Elijah.” 48 At once one of them ran and got a sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. 49 But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.” 50 Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last. 51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. 52 The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. 53 After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many. 54 Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

55 Many women were also there, looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering to him. 56 Among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee.

The Burial of Jesus

57 When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea named Joseph, who also was himself a disciple of Jesus. 58 He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus; then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. 59 So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth 60 and laid it in his new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock. He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away. 61 Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb.

The Guard at the Tomb

62 The next day, that is, after the day of Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate 63 and said, “Sir, we remember what that impostor said while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ 64 Therefore command the tomb to be made secure until the third day; otherwise, his disciples may go and steal him away and tell the people, ‘He has been raised from the dead,’ and the last deception would be worse than the first.” 65 Pilate said to them, “You have a guard of soldiers; go, make it as secure as you can.” 66 So they went with the guard and made the tomb secure by sealing the stone. — Matthew 27 | New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVUE) New Revised Standard Version, Updated Edition. Copyright © 2021 National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. All rights reserved worldwide. Cross References: Genesis 20:6; Genesis 31:11; Genesis 50:5; Exodus 21:32; Exodus 26:31; Numbers 4:5; Deuteronomy 21:6; Joshua 2:19; 1 Samuel 19:5; 1 Samuel 20:32; 2 Samuel 17:23; 2 Kings 13:21; 2 Kings 19:21; Psalm 22:8; Psalm 22:16; Psalm 31:13; Psalm 69:21; Psalm 71:10; Psalm 94:21; Isaiah 22:16; Isaiah 25:7; Isaiah 50:6; Isaiah 53:7; Isaiah 53:9; Jeremiah 1:1; Jeremiah 26:8; Daniel 6:17; Zechariah 11:12-13; Matthew 1:16; Matthew 2:2; Matthew 16:21; Matthew 17:23; Matthew 20:19; Matthew 26:61; Matthew 26:63; Matthew 28:1; Matthew 28:11; Matthew 28:14-5; Mark 7:11; Mark 15:2; Mark 15:5-6; Mark 15:15; 15:42-43; Luke 23:5; Luke 23:9; Luke 23:53-54; John 19:9; John 19:14; John 20:1; Acts 1:19; Acts 3:14; Acts 5:28; Acts 13:28; Romans 16:7; 1 Thessalonians 2:3; James 1:5; Hebrews 5:7

[useless-catalanfacts]

La Pedrera. Photos from Ajuntament de Barcelona and La Pedrera.

Nowadays, la Pedrera is one of the most famous building in Barcelona, Catalonia. It's one of the most emblematic buildings in the Catalan Modernism style, and has been declared part of the UNESCO World Heritage Site "Works of Antoni Gaudí".

But it hasn't always been recognised as good architecture, all the opposite! In fact, take a look at its name: it's technically called Casa Milà (house of the Milà family), but locals always call it "la Pedrera", which means "the quarry" in the Catalan language. When it was built, in 1910, Barcelonians thought it looked like an ugly piece of stone-y quarry mountain in the middle of the city.

But that's not the only thing that they thought it looked like. Let's see some parodies that were published at the time:

In 1909, the popular magazine Cu-Cut! published this vignette of a mother and a son walking in front of the house, when the child asks his mom "was there also an earthquake here?". This is a reference to an earthquake that happened in Sicily the previous month, and to the house's bendy shapes that look like it was shaken.

In 1925, the children's magazine En Patufet also joined in, with a vignette where the owner realises he can't hang up curtains* on this windows.

*Note: I'm using the translation "curtains" as a simplification so that English speakers without a detailed knowledge of Catalan culture can understand the joke. The vignette actually uses the word "domàs", meaning a decorative textile that is hanged from balconies during holidays.

In 1910, Cu-cut! compared it to a mona, the cake that Catalans eat on Easter Monday, by drawing a vignette where a child says "Daddy, daddy, I want a mona as big as this one!".

Three times did the magazine El Diluvio mock this building.

First, in 1910, they called it a "Medieval architecture model, between burrow and burial, that I don't quite dislike". It described its future in the following way: "the round gaps in the façade have become dark holes where all kinds of vermin come in and out: crocodiles and rats, but also snakes, hedgehogs, owls, sea monsters... Two undulating lines wrap up the building, which stands in front of an absolutely black sky. Above it, in the rooftop, the chimneys, the air vents and the stairs' endings have stopped being whipped cream mountains to become sinister piles of skulls."

In 1911, El Diluvio striked again, comparing the building's cast iron handrails to a fish stand. Their illustration had Casa Milà with a sign saying "cod entrails sold here!".

And lastly, it made fun of the controversial statue of Our Lady of the Rosary that was supposed to go on top. The Milà family in the end decided not to place the statue (some say because they didn't like how the sculptor made it, some say it's because they were scared of having a religious symbol after the 1909 anti-clerical riots) but the architect Gaudí, who was a very religious man, insisted on having it. This caused the Milàs and Gaudí to argue, which the magazine represents with a caricature of Mr. Milà wearing a Tarzan-like loincloth and branding a whip fighting against Gaudí wearing a pith helmet, grabbing him by the hair and hitting him with a hammer. The text under the image translates to "Will the Virgin Mary stand on top of the peculiar monument? Who will win, Gaudí or Milà?".

In 1912, the popular magazine L'Esquella de la Torratxa imagined that this extravagant futuristic building could only be a garage for parking airship and air-planes. This satirical drawing is titled "Future Barcelona. The true destiny of the Milà and Pi house". (Milà and Pi were the owners of this building).

The text that accompanied this illustration wondered if this building is the Wagnerian Valhalla, an anti-aircraft defense for the Moroccan War, or a hangar for zeppelins.

What do you think? Was the banter justified?

[autumnvine]

What is a Hallloween?

Summary: You were discussing Halloween with your new husband, of course you didn't realise he didn't know what Halloween was, leading to some emotions, calls to your best friend, some thoughts that come to light upsetting everyone. Happy ending of course.

Sitting with Loki was perfect, everything with Loki was perfect, he was perfect. You were so in love with him, just looking at him warmed your heart, feeling his touch made you instantly feel protected like nothing could ever get you, he was yours and you were his, forever. Yn Laufeyson , Mrs Laufeyson forever

"What are you thinking about my love? You have that look upon your face?

"What look? I don't have a look"

"Oh you have a look, beautiful, your eyes gazing deep into the stars, thoughts running wild in that head of yours" Kissing your forhead, as you leaned into his chest.

"I was just thinking about halloween, maybe we could go pumpkin picking and make candy apples and oh we could turn the garden to a graveyard, the loft into an apothecary we could do so much with this house this year. What do you think?" Almost bursting with excitment Loki however was concerned.

"My darling I would realine the planets if it would make you happy, I wonder my dear forgive me for asking, why would you want our garden to become the eternal resting place of so many? And why an apothecary in our upstairs storage did you forget who your married to, we have no need for lavander potions and sage sticks, I am the God of Mischief, a frost giant, I have magic coursing through my veins."

Slowly loosing your simle, awkwardly twirling your hair you didn't expect Loki to react that way, he wasn't mad or upset, he just wasn't as excited as you were, "It's just for one day I'm sorry, I- it doesn't matter it's not important. Um I'm going to go make some coffee do you want some?" Feeling the tears well up almost instantly "Do you want coffee?" asking again a little more quietly

"Y/n did I say something? Is something wrong?"

"No, um coffee?"

"Darling, no coffee just sit down a second, I never ment to upset you or anything I'm sorry this is your home you can turn it into a burrial ground or a pop up potion store in our upstairs, why are you upset?"

Awkwardly sitting beside him fumbling with your words, "It's just one day"

"Darling you cannot burry people for one day, I will not dig them up and move them the following moring. Why would you want that?"

"I don't, please just drop it, it's really not important Loki, I'm tired I'm sorry forget about it please."

Standing up, rubbing your arm leaning over to kiss your husband on the head, "Goodnight" twenty minuites ago you felt cute, pretty, wearing your favourite pyjammas and little fluffy slipper boots, now you just felt ridiculous like you wanted to curl up in the corner and hide away.

Loki left you be, afraid to make you more upset by accident, picking up the kitchen phone and the list of numbers you had written down for him, he called your best friend,

"Wanda, I need your assistance I don't like to do this, and I really hate what happened more, so you might fix the situation?"

"Loki what's wrong is Y/n alright?"

"Fine, she is in bed"

"Is she sick?"

"No, more upset, Why does she want the garden to be a burial ground? Why is my house turning into the popup shop, why are they mad, all i said was that i won't be digging up the bodies for one day, now there in bed?"

"What?" Wanda more confused then ever

"What is a Halloween? She said Can we have a graveyard in the garden for halloween and apples with candy, what is a Hallloween, she wants to get a pumpkin and have a spell shop fo the pumpkin and I asked about it, she got all flustered and left." Fully understanding now Wanda couldn't help but giggle on the other end of the phone line,

"How dare you mock me"

"I'm not Loki Halloween is a magical night that y.n cares very much about, for her it's the best day of the year"

"What about our wedding day" Loki asked almost soul destroyed

"Oi listen it's important to her, you mocked it, it hurt her, she loves it, it's magical, you decorate your house like a graveyard with skeletons or bats, or pumpkins or ghosts and whitches, it's not an actual cemetery you don't really dig a grave for people or dig them back up, a candy apple is just a thing you do together then watch a scary movie later on eating it. It's traditional, and a very celebrated holiday on earth, midguard, it's important to her, and you shut it down, so yeah she probable got awkward and left, she doesn't like asking things of people Loki, you know that, when was the last time she really asked you for anything?.... Exactly she doesn't. She knows that you have power Loki, she know's your a God and she knows that she will never be like you, but Halloween is the one day of the year she feels closest to you."

Loki in shock from learning the knowledge of his wife from her best friend, you never told him any of this,

"How is you seem so enlightened in my wife's life and personal feelings? How is it you know all of this information?"

"She's my best friend, she has been since we were little, you have to understand that women believe it or not Loki but we confide in eachother"

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"Loki it's not that big of a deal"

"And yet you know that my wife feels closest to me on a holdiay filled with graveyards."

"That's not what I said is it, it's one of the most powerful days of the year, for her it's magical she believes in it, she believes in the magic. You are powerful Loki as am I and Yn doesn't have the same abilities we do. It gets to her sometimes, just trust me, you should feel flattered."

"Wanda you've been insightful as usual"

"Good luck Loki"

Loki made some coffee for the both of you and conjured up a candy apple, taking to the stairs prepairing everything he was going to say in his head, nothing would come, nothing sounded good enough. It;s not his fault he didn't do anything, he just didn't know how important Halloween was to you. The bedroom door was open a little, politely knocking before pushing it open, to fine, noone. It's dark and empty "Yn?" with no reply he set down the coffees and apples turning on the light switch, still noone "Yn where are you?" calling your name a little louder "I'm sorry, darling where are you?" Looking in other rooms for you, calling your name over and over, each time slightly more panicked then the last. He felt a cool breeze brush over his feet, the forest green curtains gently blowing in from the open patio door, "Yn?" Loki called softer not wanting to startle you, "I'm out here" Quickly flicking his wrist to have two cups of coffee and a blanket for you he came and sat beside you. "I'm sorry"

"It's okay Loki it wasn't your fault, I never ment to argue with you, I never ment to upset you I'm sorry Loki"

"Hey, nothing was your fault, so I spoke with Wanda"

"I was wondering if you would like to toffee some apples with me? and perhaps I teach you a few things"

a smile appreared across your face, teeth on display and all,

"Really, like what?"

"Do you trust me?" Loki asked taking your hand

"Always"

"Close your eyes, think about what you want to eat right now"

You did and appered in your hand was a plate of pumpkin pie

with two forks. "Oh Loki tat's amazing, here try this you will love this, well I hope because I love this, here try." before Loki could ask what it was you put the fork loaded with pie in his mouth, watching him intently scanning his face for his reaction to weather he likeed it or not, seeing as he licked him lips and bit down gently on his bottom lip, "I would say it's successful, you like?"

"I love" Loki picked up the fork feeding you some in return

"Yn my darling you know you are the most important to thing to me in the entire world, galaxy?" you nodded in responce with a chunk of pie in your mouth

"You know that I adore you and everything about you?" again you nodded

"Yn I wanted to ask about something Wanda said, Do you feel closest to me on Halloween?"

His question sounded more loaded, like it was weighing on his mind, "Yeah I guess but it's not a bad thing, when I said that to Wanda first I didn't think she'd tell you, not like that makes it any better, but I just meant that for one night I could be apart of your world. Where magic was everywhere, where the non magic people like me, get to be as amazing as you, I get to fit in in your world, I get to be apart of all your world."

"My love you are a part of my world, you are my world, without you I, well I don't know what I'd do, You don't need magic to be apart of my world. Darling you are my heart and soul. And I love you more then anything."

"I know and sometimes I just let my head get in the way you know, it doesn't matter it's okay"

"No I don't know, you don't tell me these things, you tell Wanda but you don't tell me. I just want to make sure that you know you can talk to me about everything. My darling I'm your husband forever and you are my wife, I tell you everything. I don't expect you to tell me everything and by no means you don't have to, but anytime you want to, you can is all. I'm always here for you. And your head never gets in the way please do not think like that, your head is precious and beautiful and very important to me, all your thoughts are important to me."

"I just wonder sometimes if you regret your decision that's all"

"What decision?" Loki asked having some more pie

"Marrying me"

Spitting the pie accidentally half way across the floor, Loki took your hands, rubbing his over your knuckles, he did not expect that

"Why, why would you say that? Why do you think that? do you regret your decision?"

"Loki of course I don't regret it, it is different for me though, you had a beautiful home, a throne, you were born to be a king, you are the prince of Asgard and Jotenhiem where you accept that or not, baby you are royalty and you have amazing abilities and you, you have a much longer lifed expectancy lets put it that way, it won't be long before I'm old, sore, grey, sick, and you'll still be the same, handsome, thick dark hair, dreamy eyes that anyone could get lost in, you'll still be perfect" looking up from your hands from his hands, noticing a stray tear runnig down his sharp cheekbones, dripping off his chin on to his white shirt, creating a small wet dot, followed by another on the opposite side, and another, and another until the flood gates opened.

"I can't bear the thought of loosing you Yn I won't I can't, I won't let it happen. I can't"

"Loki it's going to happen"

"No! no it won't It can't!" Loki becoming louder and frightened and more upset, scared. Terrified of loosing you.

"You walked away from everythting to be with me, you turned down your leadership, your throne, your golden palace, your kingdom, you gave up everything just to spend a few years with me, I can't help but think what's going to happen to you, after I, what'll happen I don't want you to be alone forever, I don't want you to have to be stuck here I know you hate it here on earth. I don't want you to forget about me Loki, and you will one day. What's going to happen?"

You and Loki crying and cuddling eachother, trying to pull yourself together for him, trying to contain your thoughts that get in the way, he said he wanted to know.

"Yn I don't know what will happen but I promise you I could never forget you, I will never be here without you, I promise."

"You can't promise that"

"I do, I promised you on our wedding day and I'm reminding you of it now, you are always and forever will be the sole owner and gate keeper of my heart, my every thought. Now you were telling me about this Halloween and what we are going to do? You were all excited before and I want your tears banished, your graveyard in the garden, your Skellington dangling off the roof, I believe we can use soome of our magic to have a witch flying above the roof, and this pie i want to bake with you it was delicious until I spat it unpleasantly accidentally across the whole floor, And I want to make a toffee apple and see if I can get my back teeth to stick together with the toffee, I want to make a potion bowl with you filled with different sweet treats and nic nac snacks I believe you call them. And my love correct me if I'm wrong, this Halloween requires the dressing up in someting you wouldn't usuallly wear am I wrong?"

"I love your plan, I love you,I love everything about you I'm sorry I let my thoughts run wild on you, but your right everything I told Wanda I should tell you first, and I didn't want there to be anything beetween us, ever, so that's what I was thinking about and telling Wanda about, she told me the same as you, that I couldn't be replaced and to cherish the time we have together instead of wondering what will happen when it's gone. And you know what, right now, this is good, me and you together.

So you've given Halloween some thought, now for the most important question o the night,

What cotume shall you be ripping off me on halloween night?"

"Oh my love, you don't need a costume" lifting you up off the chair kissing you in his arms, "What your wearing now works just fine."

-------------------------------------------------------------

I am new to writing any advice let me know 😀

[bougiebutchbinch]

I am not the ableism thought police

(in gentle response to an ask that I won't be publishing, as I don't want the tumblr user to get any blowback, and I think they were asking in good faith)

It is not inherently ableist to enjoy the OFMD finale, despite the fact that myself and many other physically disabled people are Really Fucking Uncomfortable with certain choices that were made.

You can like whatever you like. There will never be perfect media, and OFMD is better than... many shows in terms of its representation of queers and characters of colour, at least. Go forth and enjoy it! I'm not trying to take that away from you!

Here, however, is a handy list of things that ARE actual ableismsTM:

pretending the finale of your fave show is beyond reproach from physically disabled critics

dismissing the concerns and hurt of so many disabled fans who felt incredibly let down by the finale (and who want to know whether the writers consulted with disabled people before writing that whole scene (especially putting the words 'I want to go' in Izzy's mouth. jfc.))

mocking disabled people who are upset about how his self-acceptance arc as a disabled queer man ended - in a show that is trying to be progressive, no less!

making gross statements like "saying Izzy is disabled removes his character agency". Just. Wtf. I don't know how to explain to you that disabled people have agency, and that 'disability' isn't a Bad Scary Word.

claiming that just because you are physically disabled and you don't mind the finale, other physically disabled people shouldn't voice their concerns

expecting disabled people to hold your hand and reassure you that it's okay to like a show even if it Committed A Big Ol' Ableism

All of those things are ableist, and you should avoid them.

TL;DR: Love the show as much as you like. Just don't talk down to disabled fans who are raising very valid points about the ableism surrounding Izzy's death and burial. And don't demand that we emotionally coddle you and assure you that you are a good person if you liked the ending of S2.

As always, able-bodied people are encouraged to reblog - but don't join the conversation unless you are offering support.

[idkyetxoxo]

Ten | Allure | The Last Kingdom

"I care for you deeply, more than words can express. In the midst of this pain, I've longed to whisk you away, to hold you close and whisper reassurances in your ear, to assure you that everything will be okay"

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

The sight before me had me frozen in place, every fiber of my being screaming in agony at the inferno consuming Beocca and Thyra's once-happy home. "Is Thyra inside?" Finan's urgent voice pierced the chaos, directing Osferth to find Beocca.

"I..." My voice faltered, reality crashing back with brutal force. "She is!" I gasped, desperation clawing at my throat as I lunged towards the engulfed doorway, only to be forcibly restrained by the firm grips of Sihtric and Finan. "No, let me go!" I shrieked, flailing against their restraint, my heart fracturing with every passing second.

Sihtric's hold tightened, unyielding despite my frantic struggles as Finan walked away towards Beocca. Tears streamed down my cheeks, scalding trails of anguish etched upon my face as the flames devoured everything in their path. 

"Please I have to help her" I pleaded, my voice cracking with raw pain, the agony of helplessness tearing through my soul like shards of glass. "Sihtric, please, let me go!" I sobbed, my cries echoing into the night, a desperate symphony of grief and despair.

But the fire raged on, a relentless force of destruction, its mocking dance a cruel reminder of my powerlessness. Through tear-blurred vision, I watched in agonized silence as the flames consumed the sanctuary that had once held laughter and love.

As the night stretched on, I remained rooted in my vigil, the flames casting twisted shadows across my shattered heart. Sihtric's embrace offered little solace, his arms a fragile barrier against the searing pain that engulfed me.

Morning arrived, a sombre dawn cloaked in the aftermath of devastation. "Once the fire settles, I will help find her body for burial," Finan's words pierced the silence, a solemn promise tinged with sorrow but Beocca insisted that it was his task to complete 

"She promised!" I choked on the words, my voice trembling with grief as I pushed away from Sihtric, my spirit fractured beyond repair. "She promised I wouldn't lose her!" I wailed, crumbling to my knees before Beocca, the weight of broken vows crushing my spirit.

Beocca's embrace offered fleeting comfort, his presence a frail anchor in a sea of despair. "She told me that we were the daughters of the great Earl Ragnar," I whispered, tears staining the fabric of our grief-stricken embrace "That we don't give up easily."

But her words, once a beacon of strength, now rang hollow in the darkness of my grief. "She lied to me," I whispered, the truth a bitter pill to swallow as I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sorrow.

Finan, Sihtric, and Osferth bore witness to my shattered facade, their hearts heavy with the weight of my anguish. The sight of their once strong, resilient and stuborn friend reduced to a trembling wreck left them reeling, their own resolve shaken by the depths of my despair.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

Beocca's confrontation with Aethelwold echoed through the air, his words heavy with accusation and grief. Meanwhile, I remained seated on the ground in front of the crumbling remnants of what was once Beocca and Thyra's home, my gaze fixed on the flickering flames that devoured the last vestiges of happy memories.

A gentle voice broke through the haze of my despair, urging me to rise from the depths of my sorrow. I turned to see Uhtred beside me, a silent presence offering comfort in the midst of devastation.

"I can't," I murmured, my voice a mere whisper, drained of its usual vitality. "She promised me, and yet she still left," I confessed, my heart heavy with the weight of broken promises and shattered dreams. 

"I am the last bearer of the Ragnar name, Ragnarsdottir," I whispered, the title a bittersweet reminder.

Uhtred's presence offered a semblance of comfort, yet his attempts to reassure me felt hollow against the backdrop of my grief. "If I lose you, then I have no one," I confessed, the words laden with unspoken fears and lingering doubts

"That's not true, I will always be with you, I..." Uhtred began, his voice laced with sincerity, but I interrupted him by gently pressing my finger against his lips. "Don't make promises you can't keep," I whispered, the weight of unfulfilled assurances heavy upon my heart. His frown mirrored the gravity of the moment.

Uhtred's attempt to reassure me echoed with the truth of his words. "There are so many people in this world who love you," he insisted, his voice filled with conviction. A dry laugh escaped my lips in response, bitter and tinged with self-doubt. 

"No one in their right mind loves a woman as 'twisted' and 'tormented' as me," I confessed, the harshness of my words underscoring the depths of my insecurities.

But Uhtred's steadfast belief in my worth defied my doubts. "That's where you are wrong," he countered, his tone firm yet tender, his eyes alight with unwavering belief.

"You, little devil, possess a strength that surpasses all others, I need you," he admitted, his admission piercing through the darkness that clouded my mind. "I will need you for the next battle and any others after that," he added, his words carrying the weight of impending conflict.

"You, are the symphony of determination and resilience, your spirit untamed, unapologetic," he asserted. "With the sharpness of a blade, you carve your path, embodying power in every stride. Never forget that," he concluded.

With resolve blossoming within me, I turned back to face the charred remains of Thyra's house. "Then I will stand by your side," I vowed, determination ringing clear in my voice. Wiping away the tears that stained my cheeks, I tenderly clasped the flower crown adorning my head.

──☆⋅☾⋅☆──

As we advanced toward Bedanford, I exchanged my dress for more fitting attire, armour encased, weapons at the ready, and the flower crown, a poignant reminder of Thrya's craftsmanship, safely put away, the final token she would ever fashion for me.

Our journey paused at High Wycombe, where Uhtred articulated to Beocca the necessity of my blood, a vital element to facilitate Ragnar's journey from Niflheim to Valhalla. All that remained now was uncovering the identity of Ragnar's assailant.

I found myself in the company of a nearby stream, its gentle murmur became a symphony to my hyperattuned senses, a balm to my restless spirit. Settling by its edge, I allowed the cool water to caress my hands, each droplet sending ripples of awareness through my being. 

Even the sludgy mud beneath my feet felt alive, its earthy texture grounding me amidst my heightened perception, every sensation was amplified as if the world has turned its volume up.

The subtle cadence of footsteps nearby momentarily drew my focus, and I turned to find Sihtric making his approach through drooping tree branches and bushes. "Sorry," he offered in apology to disturbing my peace, and I shook my head, dismissing his concern with a gentle wave.

"You can stay," I offered surprising myself as he made to depart, and with hesitant reluctance, he settled beside me. My gaze drifted to the scratches adorning his neck, remnants of our struggle when I had attempted to flee towards the flames.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," I murmured, my voice laced with regret, as I observed the evidence of our skirmish. "It's okay," he replied softly, his words carrying a hint of forgiveness, as I returned my attention to the tranquil flow of the stream, my hands tracing its gentle currents.

"Sihtric, do you think she fought?" I inquired absentmindedly, the question lingering in the air like wisps of smoke. His response came after a moment of contemplation, his words tinged with certainty. "I know she did. She's your sister, after all," he affirmed, drawing a soft chuckle from me.

"She was the last one who truly cared for me, other than Uhtred," I reflected, my fingers idly skimming over the smooth surface of the pebbles near the water. "That's not true," Sihtric interjected, his gaze averted, yet his sincerity palpable.

"She was the last one who accepted me for who I was," I pressed on, feeling Sihtric's hand gently enveloping mine, intertwining our fingers, an action that stunned me momentarily. His eyes betrayed a vulnerability as he pondered his next words.

"Y/n," he began, the words tumbling forth like rain after a drought "I care for you deeply, more than words can express. In the midst of this pain, I've longed to whisk you away, to hold you close and whisper reassurances in your ear, to assure you that everything will be okay" his voice trembled with the weight of his confession.

"Know that my affection for you transcends mere words. Your very existence is a masterpiece of resilience, painting over the ugly words society has thrown at you with strokes of courage and dignity. In my eyes, you're not just a survivor, you're a true warrior," he confessed, his words hanging in the air like delicate threads.

With his declaration lingering between us, he leaned in, placing a tender kiss on my cheek, a silent testament to the depth of his emotions. "It's okay," he whispered after a brief moment of silence, his voice barely a breath. "It's okay if you don't feel the same way."

With those words, he exhaled the breath he had been holding, a silent plea for understanding, before rising to his feet and departing.

As Sihtric's confession hung in the air, a weighty silence enveloped me, and I found myself stunned, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. Confusion mingled with disbelief. I struggled to find words to articulate the kaleidoscope of feelings swirling within me, each one vying for attention in the chaotic landscape of my mind.

My mind wandered back to the conversation I had shared with Thyra. She had spoken of Sihtric and his desires and I had brushed her off. As I replayed our conversation, I realized the truth in her words, the inevitability of vulnerability in matters of the heart.

───☆⋅☾⋅☆───

ok when I decided the header for chapter 8 I knew I was going to do this, specifically "She promised I wouldn't lose her!" and "She lied to me," sorry x BUT we got a confession from one of them, even if she doesn't feel the same way it's something at least😭😭