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becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 days ago

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I just scared myself with my own writing, but omg Billy was sooooooooooo down bad in this part you almost feel sorry for him

Angel of Small Death

Part 6 of my Halloween mini Series!

Dark Priest!Billy Russo, Dark Priest!Matt Murdock, Dark!Frank Castle

Warnings: Blasphemy, horror, fear, kissing, a quick implication of dub-con.

A/N: @ittybxttykxttytxtty hehe

The thunder comes before the rain that evening, dark clouds and loud skies and not a drop of rain until night falls.

It’s pouring, and you’re too cold to risk the rain to go to the church, so you stay indoors, and you try to read by flickering candlelight until the scripture gives you a headache.

Sleep is troublesome, the roaring of the storm overhead disturbs your peace, and when the lightning strikes, you sit upright in bed. Heart pounding, terror in your veins, you decide to risk the rain, covering your body with extra layers to ensure that you can at least make it to the church a little dry.

It helps some, the base of your dress and the top of your head still gets wet, but the rest of you goes untouched by the rain.

The church is dark, all the candles have gone out, and you have to feel your way to a nearby lamp, striking a match to light it.

You sit in the second pew as usual, bringing your knees up to your chest and looking up at the crucifix at the altar.

Even though you’re in your safe space, it doesn’t help your anxiety like it usually does, and you close your eyes, begging God for an ease in your trepidation.

The only response you get is a flash of lightning, followed by booming thunder.

Something cold drips onto your shoulder, and you open your eyes in surprise. Touching the spot, you look up at the ceiling in surprise. You wait a moment, and nothing else falls.

There was probably another leak in the attic, you wipe your hands on your dress, sitting up and grabbing your lamp with purpose.

Maybe it was something small that you could handle until the rain stopped, and you’re happy for the welcome distraction, knowing exactly what to do since you’d seen Frank do it before.

You make your way up to the balcony seats on the second level, finding the wooden stick that’s there, but stopping in surprise when you find that the steps are already down.

Maybe someone had forgotten to put them back in their original position, and you shrug, grabbing your lamp and taking your time to climb the steps while holding your lamp and the edge of your gown, avoiding the nails sticking out.

It’s not easy, and the rain is louder up here, pelting onto the roof in an almost deafening rush.

You don’t even know where to begin, going to the post that was shifted last time, finding it nailed securely into place, most definitely done by Frank the morning after.

You walk around large shrouded objects, looking around, taking a deep breath when you begin to feel like you’re not entirely alone up here.

It makes your limbs feel heavy, each step is difficult with the pressing weight of being observed, as if you can just look over your shoulder and find someone standing right behind you.

You realise this was a mistake, coming up here to search for a leak, you should have gotten someone to help you, maybe risked the rain to get Frank.

Turning, you pause when it takes you a moment to remember which way to go in the darkness.

Picking a path, you begin walking, yelping in fright when lightning flashes, illuminating the entire space. You identify a circular window where the light came in, one that you can see from the front of the church but never really paid attention to.

You squeeze your eyes shut, flinching when the thunder comes next, a booming explosion that makes you regret leaving the safety of the pew.

Determined to leave, you continue walking, pausing when you notice a human-like figure standing in the far reaches of your light.

Fear freezes itself into your limbs, and you take a step forward cautiously.

It’s almost definitely a person, their back facing you, dressed in a white sleep tunic that men usually wear.

“Hello?” You say, calling out, swallowing nervously as the figure turns their head.

“Billy?” You call, when the light touches him enough for you to identify the way his hair falls.

He raises a hand, bringing it to his mouth as he turns to look at you, licking something off of his fingers in the low light.

He turns when you finally approach him, his eyes are unfocused, as if he’s not paying attention to anything around him.

You reach out, putting your hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

He says your name, tilts his head, eyes finally focusing on you.

“What are you doing up here?” You ask softly, reaching up to touch his forehead, feeling his feverish skin.

His feet are bare, and covered in mud, you frown, wondering why you hadn’t seen any footprints.

“Set me as a seal upon thine heart.” He whispers, raising his hand to hold yours.

The line squeezes at your heart, the implication of his words fluttering in your stomach.

His hand is rough, he brings your palm up to his face, pressing his cheek into your hand, closing his eyes.

Lightning flashes and you jump, burying your face into his chest as thunder explodes all around you.

Billy embraces you tightly, soothing you through the thunder, and when it stops, you step out of his arms, looking up at him with frightened eyes.

“Let’s go, I don’t want to be up here any longer.” You say, taking his hand and tugging him along.

You know you want to get his feet cleaned first, and then wrap him up somewhere and let him get some rest. This must be the dazed and confused symptoms that the doctor had mentioned might happen.

One hand linked in his, and the other on your lamp, you guide him down to a nearby pantry, grabbing a pitcher of water, a few rags and a bowl to wash his feet.

It’s a little hard to see in the dark, but you sit him down, working slowly to get him cleaned. He doesn’t speak, murmuring to himself now and again, while you think.

Set me as a seal upon thine heart, he’d said. It was a line with such deep meaning that for a moment you wonder if he really meant to say it about you.

But he’d said your name, meaning it was you he was thinking about.

How could he ask you to own him so easily? As if he, as a priest and you, as mother superior, had any sort of future together?

To claim him, mark him, forever bearing the imprint of your love-

-that was a dream only possible for spouses, and not leaders of faith.

You look up at him, his glassy eyes fixed on you.

Did he want to abandon his faith? For you?

When you’re done, you leave him for a moment, finding a wash basin to clean your hands.

You gasp when you feel his body press against you.

You turn halfway, his fingers caressing your face.

“A seal upon your heart,” He says with a pained, desperate voice, “A seal on your arm.”

“Billy-” You begin to say, voice halting when he reaches out to grip your hair beneath your veil.

He holds you still, tilting his wrist to manipulate your head, angling you so that your neck is exposed to him.

His tongue drags wetly along the column of your neck, a soft sound of delight leaving your lips.

“A lily among brambles.” He moans into your ear, tongue darting out to lick along your jaw. Your fingers pause on his chest as you struggle with the concept of pushing him away.

He kisses your mouth, hands cupping your cheeks, pouring endless desire into you, whispering in between breathless kisses.

“I am sick with love,” he confesses, his tongue reaching out to greet yours, “your love is better than wine.”

“Billy.” You moan in response, eagerly returning his kisses.

You’ve never felt like this, so wanted, so desired, you ache for him, you wish he would do more than kiss you like a starving man.

Someone clears their throat, and you shove Billy as hard as you can in panic, stepping back.

You only get a moment to notice Father Murdock, before Billy is upon you again, gripping your face, trying to kiss you.

“Matt!” You say in surprise, “This isn’t- It’s not what it-” You duck out of Billy’s searching arms.

“-I think he may be having an episode of sorts.”

You skirt around the table, moving behind Matthew in hopes that he finds a way to wake Billy from his trance.

Matthew reaches out to grip Billy’s shoulder as he approaches, holding the man at bay.

“Matt,” Billy murmurs, registering the other person in the room, “Keep her still for me I want her.”

Your mouth parts in shock at his words.

Thankfully, Matthew doesn’t oblige his words, reaching into his pocket, he pulls a small brown vial out and uncaps it, holding it under Billy’s nose.

You watch as Billy takes one breath of it and sags, almost limp, Matthew guides him into the chair he was sitting at before and he’s out cold in the next moment.

It takes a minute before you can find words to speak.

“Is he… alright?”

Father Murdock doesn’t answer.

“Where did you find him?” He asks instead.

“In the attic- I- I thought there was a leak-”

“-You were alone with him up there?” He asks sternly.

You feel like a child in trouble.

“Yes, but nothing happened-”

“-and you expect me to believe that? After what I just witnessed?” He interrupts.

You go quiet for a moment before searching for the right words.

“He- something overcame him.” You try to explain.

“I’ve been standing here longer than you think. I watched you enjoy his advances. Who knows, you might have kept going if I hadn’t interrupted- defiled yourself in that very spot-” He sucks in a deep breath, letting it out sharply.

“It was a moment of weakness, Father.” You whisper, using his title, “Forgive me.”

He gives a sharp shake of his head.

“An offence so grievous, requires punishment, little one.” He stands, turning to you.

“If you wish to be forgiven, come to my office tomorrow when the sun is at its highest, and we will see about your penance.”

Your eyes widen in fright.

“And if not?”

He smiles coldly.

“If not, you would have committed a grave sin, and I may have to reveal your transgressions.”

You nod in understanding.

“Very well, I will do my best to be forgiven.”

#oh my god i love him #billy russo x female reader

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houseofpsychoticwomxn · 6 days ago

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⋰ ⋱✮ minors dni — suggestive ✮ ⋰ ⋱

♡ notes; been thinking about davids clark since the trailer — movie not out until july be damned, i had to write something

⋰ ⋱✮

Clark Kent is easily amused, throwing on a little red lace was more than enough to get a blushed reaction out of him, happily crawling into his lap as soon as his laptop was out of the way.

Superman is harder to read, harder to get ahold of. the second he was in the suit he gained a determination even the passionate, mild-mannered journalist couldn’t grasp.

Of course it didn’t usually make much difference to you, only really seeing the superhero side of him on a screen or in the paper the next day, but it was intriguing. call it curiosity, fantasy, greed even — you couldn’t help but wonder if that side of the man you cared so deeply for was doing more than just protecting you. what if he was holding something back?

you worked up the courage to say something about it when the familiar headline came across the tv; Superman saves! he looked as charming as ever, smiling and waving at the crowd of cameras and heads surrounding him. he was looking right at the camera intentionally, like he was looking right at you.

the blue and red covering him accompanied by the still somehow well-kept hair looked better every time you saw it. the reporters lucky enough to be there were going on and on about how incredible it was but truthfully it was hard to pay attention. the lack of breathlessness, the way he played it off as not a big deal like he didn’t just save the city again, the size of him towering over everyone else, all of it had you completely dazed.

you were all over him as soon as he stepped through the door, standing up on your toes to reach him for a kiss.

“hello to you, too.” a big hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you away from your impromptu attack on his own, tilting his head at you when you frowned in protest.

“I’m all sweaty and gross, let me take my suit off first, alright? then you can kiss me as much as you want. promise.” he punctuated his words with a kiss on your head, unnecessarily picking you up for just a second to move you out of the way before you tugged his wrist to stop him.

“wait, I actually- kinda wanted to talk to you about that.” you let go of his wrist as quickly as you’d grabbed it, anxiously clasping your hands together as he turned back towards you.

“about..?”

“that.” you pointed to his suit like it was obvious, nervously looking up at him.

“my suit? what about it?” you nodded, collecting the words in your head that seemed much more rational when he wasn’t standing over you.

“i think you should keep it on.” he didn’t seem to quite understand what you were getting at, large hand moving over his face in thought as you searched for a way to say it without flat out begging him to keep the suit on and bend you over.

“keep it on.. for you? like, here?” he looked around your shared apartment, eyes wandering over the living room like he was looking for clues until he got back to you, dancing around your words.

“just for a second? you’re always so.. i dunno, different, when you have it on.” you were speaking to him like you’d just gotten together this morning, your eyes stuck on the way the fabric shaped his arms.

“yeah, that’s sorta the point, honey. that’s just to protect my identity, to protect you.” he crossed his arms when he noticed the direction of your pointed gaze, daring you to say just what you meant.

“i know, but don’t you think that’s still you? like that’s just some deeper part of you?” it was glaringly obvious that you really just wanted him to throw you around a little bit — rough you up for the sake of your own filthy desires, but he wanted to give you time to rethink it, and just as bad, he wanted to hear you say it.

“what are you asking?” he stepped closer to you, boots not yet discarded by the door creaking the hard wood floor under them.

“i want to see it. to feel it- that part of you, i mean. i just.. don’t want you to feel like you have to hold anything back from me, clark.”

“sweetheart. that’s real nice but-“ he was trying to avoid the obvious; he didn’t want to really hurt you. it was hard enough avoiding deep bruises from his hard to manage strength just being clark, letting go completely seems almost irrational.

“you’re a lot stronger than me, i know. i can handle it. let me show you, please?” you took his steady hand, your own shakier than you’d like to admit — but you weren’t scared. you’d thought about it for so long it just excited you, clark was always so gentle and sweet with you — and you loved it! but he’d also do just about anything you set your pretty little mind on, and this was no exception.

“that’s really what you want?” he was just about as close as he could get now, listening intently to your heartbeat speeding up as his hands closed around your waist.

“please.”

#oh my god I love him #he’s such a sweetheart bless him #also I have zero clue how this would work logistically but ignore that <3 #also MEOW #this was longer than intended #oops!#˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ blurbs #clark kent #clark kent x reader #꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ clark k.#superman x reader #superman 2025 #clark kent x you #david corenswet x you #david corenswet superman #˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ thots

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random-remzy · 15 days ago

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*trembeling uncontrollably*

In "Odysseus", when Telemachus is introduced, he has a 10-second instrumental part.

(This makes more sense with the animatic from the watch/premier party)

The timing of the different components of the instrumental aligns with the descriptive on-screen titles. Right?

It gets better.

When it says "Brave Prince of Ithica" you can hear quick guitar playing along with his motif. Who'se main instrument is a guitar?! The Prince of Ithica... The Heir to the King... Odysseus' son...

BUT!

When it says "The Little Wolf" there is a slower viola melody playing... He is the underestimated Prince... Protector of his family... His Mother's Little Wolf...

AND!

When Athena flashes on-screen, there is a staticky sound that resembles her fazing in and out of existence, a form of protection. Her Piano plays continuosly throughout the lats part of the instrumental.

BUT THATS NOT EVEN THE COOLEST PART!!!

Right before that, ^(Athena's piano)^

"Warrior(s) of the Mind!" Odysseus and Telemachus being Athena's chosen champions. Penelope outsmarting suitors for 20 years. And Athena herself- When the screen says "Warrior of the Mind" The music is at its loudest and creates a medley of the guitar, viola, piano and the electronics. With the Indie piano being emphasized and "framed" by the other instruments (framed, for lack of a better word) This is all being played as Telemachus' motif.

BUT ITS LOUDER!!! Telemachus' motif has never been as loud or incorporated as many instruments as that exact moment in "Odysseus". It represents the passage of time since the wisdom saga, and how he's grown to become this brave, dynamic character.

JALEPEÑO MAN!

WHEN I GET YOU I SWEAR-

QWERTYUIOPÅPØLKJHGFDSZXCVBNMQWERTYUIOPÅÆØLKJHGFDSAZXCVBNM

CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT-

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