#she’s one of the first humans ever and she commited the first sin

[tinycowboyart]

Woah girl, you ate that, wanna make out

If you’re my player and you see this, no you didn’t, scroll away. I don’t think any of them follow me here but uh

[coquettepascal]

purpose on earth

summary: joel loves to take, you love to give.

tags: 18+, smut, angst(ish), jackson era!joel, cold!joel, grumpy!joel, innocent!reader, dom!joel, implied age gap (reader doesn't remember pre-outbreak), corruption kink, joel takes your undies, humiliation, oral sex (m!receiving), allusion to thigh riding, a feeling of helpless/hopeless-ness permeates this fic, reader is pretty pathetic, use of "sweet girl", objectification of reader, unrequited obsession, this fic isn't necessarily sexy, just mildly sad.

a/n: i literally wrote this like an hour ago while i was supposed to be outlining my next project, but @hellishjoel told me to listen to my creative demons... so now this is being posted.

(1.1k, just a baby)

Nothing in this world has ever, or will ever, belong to you. Faint memories glaze your mind sometimes, when you lay down to rest. Not your own memories, but things you’ve read in books and seen in abandoned family photo albums. White wedding dresses, cars that drive, Sunday night family dinner. An American lifestyle that was sucked away with the cordyceps, something only they could clear out. The bombs the government used, the ones you can’t remember anymore, they never wiped mother earth clean the way she has done for herself.

She’s infected, and not yours. Nothing outside of Jackson’s walls belongs to your human hands.

You’ve never known ownership. The clothes you wear belonged to people before you, the ground you walk on cannot be sold. Maybe in another life this would feel fulfilling, but something in you wants to know what it is to own, or even fit in. Your skin, flushed and healthy, skin full of life and blood and organs. A heart that thumps in a world of disease, disorder, death. What a weird purity you hold, something you want to ruin. 

A person like you isn’t meant to own anything here. It feels like you have to belong, if you wish to take.

He will do it for you. 

Joel knows greed, remembers the world before. His hands have taken food, land, lives, anything you can imagine. It isn’t something you realistically think about, more infatuated with how he has the ability to do all these things. Not that you hadn’t committed your own sins, but to defend yourself isn’t wrong, at least that’s what he says. Something in Joel smolders the way only a primal fire can, he is from a world whose memory of a flame will extinguish soon.

He doesn’t help with any of your wants, your need to own or belong. But Joel shows you what it is to take.

You don’t understand the fascination he has with you. The memory of the night he first led you back to his house is blurry, a fleeting moment in comparison to what has happened since. There was conversation of music, of you having a tape you wish you could play. 

His hands were slow when they slid your underwear down your legs, you hoped he wasn’t looking. Nothing about you felt sexy or womanly, you felt dwarfed when he was so close. Again, you wished you could belong, so maybe you could hide. There was a stain in the gusset and you remember how he pulled the garment off your ankles when it dangled there.

“Lemme see,” he had demanded, “lemme see what I did t’you.”

Joel had smeared his thumb through the sticky wet mark, huffing in surprise. He knew it was for him, knew there was nothing else that could have made you do that. Humiliated, you had tried to yank back your underwear, but he refused.

“S’mine now,” he laughed, cheeks rosy.

That was the first time Joel took from you. 

Now you seek him, the ache for belonging in the world twisting to a yearning for him to take from you. If you could not belong to this world, if you could not fit, at least you could fulfill him. Joel doesn’t like it when you seek him out too often, hates when others notice it. You’re not his, never his, just a moment of gratification for his consuming greed. 

Once, you waited in the early morning at the stables for him. Crouched near the barn door, you waited and watched the dewy grass grow. The crunch of his boots, the yawn he let out as he passed by you, it was enough. He said nothing to you, took off on his horse with some other man trailing behind him. 

“Joel’s so responsible,” you thought to yourself, “he’ll need me later I bet.”

Of course, he did. You relished in the small victory of him stealing from you again. Purity leaks from you in the form of drool on your chin, when he pulls you off his cock. Joel’s thumbs push the spit back in your mouth and you suck it down willingly. Praise rumbles off his tongue and into your ears, a southern rhythm you find sanctuary in. Pushing his dick back into your mouth is all pleasure to him, but it’s a taste of greed for you. 

“Sweet girl, that’s a good mouth f’me, ain’t it?” Joel asks, head tilting back.

He never takes his pants off, but he strips you naked. His eyes arguably take more than his hands ever will. The bob of his Adam's apple hypnotizes your eyes as you garble a response to his question. Scarcely do you make sense around Joel, or even speak. You don’t think you can remember the last time you held a proper conversation with him, he usually just waits for you to come around.

It all starts the same, standing on his porch and waiting until he opens the door.

“Missin’ me?” He asks every time.

Joel doesn’t miss you, he doesn’t need you. He just likes how much you give. But you miss him, as soon as he pushes you out into the cold again you miss him. His greed is your purpose.

And so with your purpose, you push yourself down to the base of him. The waterline of your eyes is welling up fast, distorting your vision of him. You blink up at him like he’ll look down, like you’re more than a mouth. You aren’t, not to him, but you get to admire him like this. The puff of his chest, the swell of his throat, and his hands when they come to rip you off him.

He never pulls your hair, just grasps your face in his worn-down palms and pushes you away before jerking himself onto your naked body. 

“S’nice, you’re so nice t’me,” he grumbles. 

Under the yellow light in Joel’s living room, you feel useful. You’re doing more than surviving in this world. You have a purpose, even if he seldom needs you. He uses the sleeves of his flannel to wipe away the tears that slide down your cheeks, still mumbling about how sweet you are. Naked, smattered in him, you smile. Glittery eyes meet his and he snorts. 

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He teases. 

Joel rubs his thumb across your cheek again, the closest thing you’ll get to his lips on you. In his post-orgasmic haze, he almost looks fond. 

“He almost likes me,” your mind whispers, your stomach fluttering, “it’s almost like I belong.”

And once you’ve nodded in response to his question, messy mouthed and gazing at him, your purpose, he taps his thigh. Blood rushes to your head as you stand, crawling onto him. 

In your obedient mind, you define your efforts for Joel as a purpose, but you think you can taste a hint of belonging each time he spreads your legs. 

[thereadingmoon]

an irony to appreciate:

murderbot named itself a violently blunt portmanteau of a function it abhors AND the wrong it committed plus the thing that denotes it as not-human, not-person. it’s a private name of self-loathing at first; it’s like taking on the greatest sin you’ve ever regretted so you and anyone around you may never forget you did it. then, after being set free, well and truly free, and coming to terms with what it really is and who it really wants to secure, it says it secret name and the name of blame and self-flagellation is met with relief, with joy, with recognition, with affection by one of the first people who ever saw it as a person and not a tool of destruction. dr. mensah hears the name “murderbot” and she knows everything will be alright.

[nightlyrequiem]

I just got an idea, what if Valeria was at a club celebrating a deal or just treating her workers until the reader catches her eyes… but the reader also caught the eye of another one of her workers a guy who was kinda low in the chain of command or whatever. The reader wasn’t interested until the guys offered to buy her a drink which didn’t bother Valeria until the guys spiked her drink. The reader didn’t notice and was about to drink it until Valeria stopped her. You can decide what happens from there :p

P.S., Idk if this sounds as great as it does in my head. Love ur content tho 🥰😼

I wish I could go to a bar and have a pretty, evil older woman save me and buy me a drink...

Love this idea. I didn't know if you wanted smut so I didn't include any. If you want a part 2 with smut just let me know! I had fun writing this. It helped me get out of a little mental rut <3

Tags/Warnings: Attempted Drugging, WLW, Drinking

In Celebration

Every success no matter how small is worthy of celebration because it signifies progress. Valeria has just secured a small sector of Puerto Rico for herself. Just another expansion within her ever-growing empire. El Sin Nombre will be a name known across Latin America. Its personal boogeyman. This is an achievement worthy of drinks, drugs, and women. The nightclub Valeria chose is higher end. Higher budget, expensive booze, V.I.P corners, and Valeria's favourite part; a buffet of lovely women for her to take her pick from. Valeria and her lackeys walk through the crowded club towards their purchased booth. The music is loud, and the lights are low. Sweaty bodies writhe and bump up against each other as people forget their responsibilities and commitments, just for tonight.

Her workers laugh and jostle each other as they sit down. A scantily clad waitress scurries over and gets to work in taking orders for food and drinks. She intelligently pretends not to see a little baggie filled with fine white powder being passed between rough hands. Shots are brought to the table, and the night is officially at its start. Cards are brought out and Valeria joins in this time. Placing a bet of 36,126 pesos. She drinks and gambles, believing this to be the peak of the human experience. Valeria spares only a small glance, surveying the room for potential threats out of habit when she spots you. Her gaze gravitating to you like a wasp to sugar. She's transfixed by the way you move your hips and how short that little dress is. Valeria finds herself interested in the shadows between your legs.

A jittery man - one of her own - sidles up to you before she gets the chance. Valeria scoffs to herself at the sight. Where he gets the confidence to try his luck with someone so far out of his league escapes her, but maybe he's hoping you'll be drunk enough to gloss over his greasy appearance. She doesn't like that he approached first but she doubts you'll be into him. He's the personification of mange. he says something to you, leaning in and fanning his alcoholic breathe over your soft cheek. To her displeasure you nod and follow him through the crowd to the bar.

Occasionally Valeria glances over at the two of you. Sharp eyes quickly homing in on you. She doesn't trust him to not be a complete degenerate and she's also hoping that you simply lose interest. Leaving her room to slide in. For only a second you have your back turned. For only a second his hand is over your drink. Valeria scowls and stands, ignoring the confused looks from her men. Valeria pushes through the crowd towards you.

You raise your cup to your lips, but she quickly snatches it from you. Almost not hearing the indignant 'hey!' leaving your mouth. The man knows he's messed up. Bloodshot eyes widening before she shoves the cup in his hands.

"Drink it." She commands, glowering at him. You throw your arms up, upset at having your drink stolen.

"... Patrona-"

"Drink. It." 

Valeria can glimpse you frowning at her in the corner of her eye, but she keeps her gaze on this worthless sack of meat. He reluctantly brings the cup to his lips and takes a small sip. She scowls and he relents. Downing the spiked drink.

He turns and retreats back into the crowd. She shakes her head in disgust.

"What the hell?" You exclaim angrily.

Valeria's expression relaxes as she turns to look at you. Her eyes running over you quickly. She raises an arm and hovers it over your shoulders, turning you back to the bar. "He's no good, sweetheart." She shakes her head, head lowered to murmur into your ear. "I'll buy you a new drink."

You give her an agitated look. "Why did you do that?" You ask firmly. She gently ushers you closer to the bar.

"He put something in your drink. I'll get you a new one."

Valeria lets you order whatever you want under her tab. Which you do so with reluctance. Throwing her wary glances. Your eyes drifting over her arms. The tattoos. The scars.

You sip your drink, mood dampened. Valeria leans against the bar.

"What's your name, guapa?" Valeria asks.

You tell her with narrowed eyes. "And you?"

"Valeria. Why don't you come sit with me?" She offers. "I'm playing poker and could use a good luck charm."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "No, thanks."

Valeria isn't perturbed by your rejection. She moves closer but keeps enough distance that you could still move away from her if you wanted to. "No? Come on," Valeria says. Lips curling into an easy grin.

"Why would I want to watch you and a bunch of men play poker?"

"You get to sit around in good company and enjoy free drinks." She replies. She can feel your resolve faltering.

"I don't know about good company..." You sniff. "You look like trouble."

Valeria inches closer.

"I'm an angel." She says mockingly. Pleased to see a smile break out on your face. 

"Angels are allowed tattoos?"

She feels confident enough to ghost her fingers down your bare arm. "This one is. Come sit with me."

You consider her words. Consider her. "Only for a little bit." You concede.

Valeria has you perched in her lap. Only a little bit turned into the better part of an hour. A few drinks completely dissolved any reservations about her. Your arm is slung over her shoulder, fingers stroking her skin.

"Fuck." Her opponent growls. Throwing his cards down at yet another loss. 

"Gambling isn't your calling, pendejo." She sneers at him. Valeria collects her earnings and gives your thigh a tap, turning to face you, nose almost touching yours. "I'm going to call it a night, want to come back to mine?" She murmurs quietly.

"You won't be calling it a night for a while." You promise coyly.

[melodic-haze]

REQUEST: A reader much more powerful than Arlecchino and not doing anything about it.. except in bed.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Mention of bloodplay at the very end but like. Very minor. Otherwise there's nothing 🤷‍♀️

☆ — NOTES: I'M NEVER TOUCHING MY DRAFTS WHEN I JUST WOKE UP EVER AGAIN I'M SO SORRY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this was kinda bad dawg am sorry 😞

☆ — PARTS: Part 1, Part 2 (you are here)

Tall AND powerful??? Ohhhh she's gonna die you KNOW I had to mix it hahaahahha powertrip goes CRAAAAZYYYYYY I have such a thing for it I'm gonna cry

Anyway ok so I would like to first state that extremely powerful chrs that don't actually do a lot w their power is like one of my top fav tropes it's so fucking funny 😭 like dawg you have the power to change the world wdym you're just gonna sit here like it's summer vacation (there's a reason why my Akivilicarnation au exists (even though I gotta work on it one way or another))

This is rather different from the stuff I usually write bc I usually write the reader as. Kinda weak for the sake of putting us all on a powerscale between the chr and our average strength as a human being omg bare with

Okay so. I do feel like she'd be a tad bit frustrated with you, at least at first. Like you could do so much more than what you're showing and yet here you are, not using your strength for important stuff? Lazy bitch, her children are much better than your example 💀 at least, that's her initial take, really

But give her a demonstration, both in a time of need and yk ☺️☺️☺️, and she'll soften up

Anyways it's just the fact that you're both tall AND powerful??? Nevermind her doing anything, she'll find herself dazedly thinking of the ways in which you can quite possibly manhandle her with such brazen 'disrespect'......and also? In the ways you two can actually COMPETE. Or well, 'compete', esp when she finds herself actually WANTING to lose for once. Crazy, how the great Knave would actually prefer to lose compared to the usual want to win against her opponent

You sighed, "I know we talked about it two days ago but do we have to? Really?"

"I would like to test you. Unless you would rather skip such pleasantries?"

"I don't think fighting until one of us surrenders counts as 'pleasantries'. Quite the opposite, actually."

While you've always known Arlecchino to constantly have a stony expression that doesn't usually change, you see the bright crosses of her eyes dim just a fraction, "So I suppose that's a no, then?"

"Well, now," you stepped back with an amused look on your face, getting into the fighting stance you're familiar with, "I didn't say that... Especially not when the reward is something I really want."

And she gains that glow once again as she brandishes her weapon with a fraction of a smile and.. something else much more heated behind those eyes of hers, "Do not get ahead of yourself, my beloved. The results have yet to be concluded."

..She speaks as if she hadn't actually wanted to lose. Laughable, really.

(You know from the way that at the end of it all, she lies underneath you as her eyes scan you with that same heated look in her eyes—lust, a sin in which The Knave hadn't thought of ever committing.. until you came along.)

The whole thing about her being able to reverse your positions? THROW THAT TO THE FUCKING WIND IN THIS SITUATION you can easily EASILY fold her without a care in the world. The fact that she KNOWS you can too gives her a rush she hasn't ever felt without that extra layer of threatened rage

Push her up against the wall, hold her up in the air, pin her down so she can't squirm away..........if you're much more powerful than her, she actually makes a show of 'trying' to escape you. Keyword: 'trying', especially when at the end of the day she resigned herself to losing already

She tells you not to hold anything back, no matter how cautious you are. She says she can handle it, that she isn't strong without reason, that she can endure whatever you give her, no matter what. Usually she kinda ends up forgetting anything she's said though, especially when you're fucking her SOOO hard she starts seeing stars behind her eyes

If your strength applies to endurance too??? Ohhh bye she's not lasting. Like okay she definitely has stamina and endurance but against you? SHE'S QUITE LITERALLY DWARFED....BYE.........

In some way, she actually likes the fact that you don't show your power other than in private with just the two of you—it makes her feel special, to know exactly what you're capable of. Dare I even say she's a tad bit possessive over every side of you? Who can say 😜

Just think that whenever she kinda stands beside you in public w her heels on, she's very very VERY easily reminded of the fact that you tower over her in height, capability AND position.......and really, in comparison to what everyone else may think? Arlecchino wouldn't have it any other way 🫶

....oh side note, just think about how rough you can go, biting each other to the point where you draw blood. Sorry I had to get that final bit out ANYWAY

[rain0tes]

Hacker!reader lowkey reminds me of silverwolf from hsr 👁️

How would an interaction between hacker!reader and Lucifer go? I imagine they'll share the same type of dry humor while they both rant about their hyperfxations to each other

Lucifer Morningstar x gn!hacker!reader

(wow my first ask! yippee!)

You're so right about that, Anon, these two would yap for hours non stop. The post Anon is referring to is (here).

Intended to be platonic but can be viewed as romantic.

Lucifer and hacker!reader (nicknamed Cyber for convenience) would go on for hours just talking about anything and everything that comes to mind.

Everyone else in the hotel would not be able to catch up with the conversation due to how fast you two would jump from one topic to another (maybe Charlie since she's just as hyperactive).

"Did you know that ducks can see almost 360 degrees around them?"

"Kinda like a radar?"

"Yeah but with feathers!"

"Oh, neat. Did you know that they made duck shaped keyboard keycaps?"

The most wholesome and chaotic duo to ever exist in hell.

You two aren't always just yapping, though. After a while of staying at the hotel, you two become comfortable enough to just silently sit in each others presence. You two are bored with nothing better to do, the existential dread of "eternity" in hell finally catching up to you, filling in the silence.

But hey, at least you two are bored together.

You make him think that some sinners aren't that bad. The only "sin" that you committed was upsetting the human government which is pretty badass in his opinion.

Morally speaking, you weren't even bad either, you just liked causing a bit of chaos whenever and when you compare that to the more trigger happy sinners in hell, you seem like an angel.

You would convince him to pull pranks on the other residents of the hotel with you. He'd agree because they're usually pretty harmless. (He would agree on pranking Alastor even if it was harmful, though.)

Develops this sort of dependency on you. You're one of the few sinners in hell that are actually kind of normal and also one of the only people (that's not Charlie) that he can be completely comfortable with.

Gets upset once you tell him about your deal with Alastor and even goes as far as persuading you to call it off. You shouldn't make deals with that shady guy! And besides, Lucifer can protect you better than he ever could.

(masterlist)

[emositecc]

God I fucking hate Victoria the crybaby so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every page she's in, every scene, every fanart, every comic, she's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass personality on her stupid green face. Absolutely no part of her ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. Her stupid fucking dress? Who the hell wears a dress like that. Her dumb fucking lizard tail? Her shitty, annoying bastard attitude ? The three thousand percent dumbass shitass fucking haircut that no woman has EVER FUCKING SHITTY HAIR DESING HAD IN THE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate her. I hate her so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a comic or a fanart of her, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Boo hoo, I'm Bitchtoria the fuckshit whiny ass woman, woe is me. PITY ME 😢😢😢😢". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like shrek but if shrek was written by vivziepop. Your dumb fucking hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking dress and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top shitty ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene she's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a walmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know she's just a shitty fucking sad woman in a stupid fucking fan comic, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate her. I hate hier on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the bitch wife is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate her so much. I hate her so, so fucking much. I want to light her ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat her to death with her own stupid fucking punchable face. I want to punch her to death. I want to bash her brains out. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that her existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional woman

you've gone on sending me these kinds of messages in my ask box everytime i've updated my comic, even mentioning r*pe in your latest ones. At first I thought this is a bit, but now i honestly dont know. I think you need help and for your own good and mine, I'm going to be blocking you.

This probably wont stop you from reading my comic in other platforms but if you still do, please refrain from messaging me or whatnot because I will just block you again.

okay, thank you.

^ and that's not even ALL of it.

there's like 50+ more

get help.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ɄⱠ₮Ɽ₳ Ø₦Ɇ ♰

♰ Pairing: vampire!hyunjin x vampire!chubby!reader

♰ Genre: horror/angst

♰ Summary: A new drug's turning vampire's feral and when Hyunjin uncovers a plot to pin it all on you, he's determined to make your enemies pay even if he puts himself in danger in the process.

♰ Word Count: 2.3kish

♰ Warnings: mentioned drug use (it's synthetic blood), blood, burning alive, mentions of violence, strong language, stabbing, vampires obviously, low key psychotic love, pet names (baby, honey).

♰ A/N: I created this to have two parts. This one is more action-oriented and the second will be more romantic. I'm just trying to do my part to give us chubby badass vampire babes whose men love them enough to commit murder, ya know?

The underground club scene can grow quite boring for a vampire. Your first few blood raves make you feel more alive than you ever did when you actually had a pulse. But the ones that follow? They become so mundane and predictable that not even the introduction of human drugs can save them from losing their luster.

Enter a new drug, Ultra, synthetic blood by vampires for vampires. Guaranteed to fuck you up. One dose opens your eyes to a world far beyond your own. It mutates your cells. Alters your brain chemistry. Turns you into a brand new beast. The power you gain is addictive and the things you’ll do to hold onto it, the sins you'll commit, you don’t even want to imagine.

But you must imagine them. You are the one who created Ultra, or so they say, and some incredibly powerful people are looking to give you a taste of your own poison. Tell me, are you prepared to die? Again?

Distorted metal music ricochets off of the stone walls of the club with the force of a dozen automatic rifles firing all at once. The occasional rapid flashing of strobe lights illuminates the darkness, giving the few hundred bloodsuckers on the dance floor the closest thing to a sunrise that they can tolerate. Everyone dances except for one weasel of a man. A dealer slinking through the crowd in his worn leather jacket handing off vials of Ultra to this person and the next.

“I won’t have to do this for long,” he tells his friend at the bar when he stops to grab a drink. This friend, a fellow scumbag, grins as he knocks back a shot, completely unphased by the recent carnage caused by the shit his companion has been peddling. “The council says once I do this they can get rid of her and make room for me.” “Make room for you? Tell me you don’t really think those rich fucks would ever let us into their secret society”

The dealer nods to the bartender to give him his usual, “See, that’s your problem. You think too small. That’s why you’ll never get anywhere.” His friend only rolls his eyes, turning to check his surroundings before he leans in to offer some advice. “I’d be quieter about this if I were you. If she finds out you’re trying to set her up she’ll sick her dog on you then you won’t get anywhere either.” “Fuck her” the dealer spits, finishing off his drink, “She can sick her dog on me. I’ll just have to put him down.”

Agitated, he slams his glass down on the bar, nearly shattering it. “I’m supposed to be afraid of her?” he mutters, shoving the other man aside to turn down a winding hallway that leads to the back door. He stops in front of the door to dig for a cigarette, wincing at the brightness of the few working lights that dangle from the ceiling of the desolate hallway. The air shifts, growing colder around him, but he’s much too busy fidgeting with his lighter to notice the change. Too lost in the ecstasy of that first drag to notice the shadow along the wall closing in on him. “I don’t even know why they have to do all of this. Should just kill her. She’s just some stupid b—”  

An ice pick pierces his neck from behind, taking every twist and turn between his muscles before emerging on the other side. The cigarette falls from his lips, extinguished by the tiny pool of blood forming in vivid red on the concrete floor. “Just some what?” Hyunjin questions, rolling the ice pick between the man’s vertebrae. The sound of metal splitting bone is music to Hyunjin’s ears. “Speak! What were you going to call her?” The man opens his mouth but no answers tumble out. Only blood and desperate gasps for air. Tears begin to form in his eyes as the reality of his helplessness sets in.

Hyunjin leans over the man’s shoulder, his large hand reaching around to cover his mouth. “I should’ve known you’d have nothing interesting to say” he sighs, almost sounding disappointed, “You’re just some stupid bitch.” The ice pick slips out smooth as butter, finding a new home in the man’s left lung followed by his right. Hyunjin moves in a blur of darkness, leaving the man spinning in circles trying to predict where the next attack will come from.

Blood pours from a dozen different holes scattered across his body. He reaches out to grab the collar of Hyunjin’s expertly pressed suit only to pull back a fistful of nothing. The coldness, he feels it now as he drops to his knees, his vision darkening. One final stab, inches from his heart, is all he feels before the bulbs in the ceiling pop leaving him in the dark. 

“Oh, Jinnie, look! Here you are!” you sing from the comfort of a rose infused bubble bath. You ease down further into the steamy water, the rose petals dancing at the surface cloaking your naked body. “Pisces,” you begin to read off from the astrology book you’ve been flipping through, “As Jupiter aligns with Neptune in your house of love, you mustn’t shy away from sharing your true feelings with your partner—” Hyunjin kneels beside you, tilting your book back to view the title. He cracks a smile, “A Girl’s Guide to Astrology 2023. After a hundred years, you still believe in that stuff?” “Mmm, maybe” you shrug, running your black manicured nails through his slicked back hair.

Resting his head on the edge of the tub, Hyunjin closes his eyes and lets you massage his scalp. He could stay like this for hours, having you read to him by candlelight as your fingers melt away all that plagues him. “What are your true feelings? You seem troubled.” “No trouble, my love.” Tossing the book to the floor, you raise his head to look at you. It never fails, even after a century together, that looking into his eyes makes you want to melt. Beyond the beauty of his features lies a softness reserved only for moments like this. For moments with you. A softness that most men of your kind lacked even before they turned.

“You’re lying to me, Jinnie. What’s wrong?” One brush of your thumb across his cheek is all it takes to break his defenses. “You know that Ultra stuff that has everyone turning feral?” You nod, not daring to ask if he’d taken it. He’d never touch something like that. Not your Jinnie. Not when he’s seen firsthand what it does. It’d be hypocritical to say that neither of you lusts for violence. But violence directed towards people who don’t deserve it? Tearing the limbs from innocent lovers in the park? Slaughtering whole families? There’s no pride in that. “I caught the guy who’s been dealing it. He’s upstairs. I think—” Hyunjin pauses, bracing for your reaction, “I think the council plans to say that you made it.”

Your iris pulses an electric red, your heart pumping a pure searing hatred through your veins. The council. Five decrepit bastards who rule their own sectors of the city under the guise of keeping the peace between vampires and humans when in reality it’s all about the money. That’s all it’s ever been about. They’re criminals, the same as any mafia you’ve ever known, and you worked your ass off for your seat among them. They could never quite accept that a woman infringed upon their little boys' club. They would’ve put a stake through your heart a long time ago if it weren’t against their own bullshit rules. 

Rule #1: We never kill our own. The Consequence: Death. 

Ultra doesn’t just make vampires kill humans. It makes them kill each other. And finally, when their bodies can’t mutate anymore, it kills the host too. If they can pin this on you then you’re dead. You, every vampire under your protection, and Hyunjin—

Not him. Never him. 

You rip through the halls of your sprawling mansion, hearing Hyunjin’s voice as if it were far away at the end of a long tunnel. “Cover up at least, honey” he insists, throwing a flowy silk robe around your wet body. You slip your arms in, not missing a beat as you grab a blade from the wall on your way to the third floor. You can hear shallow breathing as if it were your own. The stench of whisky and blood floods your senses the closer you get, nearly making you nauseous. Kicking the door into your spare bedroom, you come upon the man plotting your death.

He’s chained to the bed, his clothes tattered where wounds from the ice pick have slowly begun to heal. You descend upon him, your blade pressed to his throat, fangs bared. “Tell me everything” you demand, realizing at once that you’ve seen him before. Nowhere in particular. Here and there. In places you never thought much of. Had his appearances there really been a coincidence? No, there was a reason. He’s been watching you all this time. How didn’t you see it? “No” he refuses, licking the dried blood from his bottom lip, “Kill me and you’ll burn for it. You both know that!”

You gasp, sitting up on top of him, “Oh no, baby, did you hear that?” Hyunjin leans against the wooden bedpost, his reappearance startling the man. “I heard. Kill him and we’ll burn” Hyunjin dramatically cowers in fear, “I’m so scared. We better be careful, huh?” “Mmhmm” you agree, inching the blade away from the man’s neck and burying it in the mattress beside his head. “Jinnie, how long do you think until sunrise?” Hyunjin makes his way to the window, peeking out at the breathtaking landscape that surrounds your home.

It’s early enough in the morning for the sky to still cling to hues of dark blue as the sun creeps up along the horizon. “Half an hour maybe.” “Would you be a dear and open the curtains? It’s so dark in here.” The man’s eyes dart back and forth, watching your smile grow more devious with each curtain Hyunjin ties open. “Wait, you can’t—” the man panics, struggling against his chains. “I know. I know. We can’t kill you!” you groan, climbing off of him, “But we’re gonna. I mean, thanks to you they’ll probably try to kill me anyway, and since you won’t answer any questions you’re useless.”

Hyunjin takes you by the hand, escorting you to the door. “You go to bed. I’ve got it from here” he whispers, kissing you on the forehead. You cross your arms defiantly, refusing to move an inch. “No, we’ll finish this together like we do everything else.” Hyunjin’s arms come around your waist, pressing your plush body to his. “I always take care of you, don't I?” he asks, his hands tracing your figure. “Always.” “Then go and wait for me, okay? This won’t take long.” You glance over at the man on the bed, your mind racing with all the things you could do to him. All horrors he’d very much deserve.

“Fine but hurry. You've been gone all night. I’ve missed you.” Your lips meet, sparking something that sets your body ablaze in a different way. One that has you tugging at the buttons on his shirt as your tongue teases the sharp points of his fangs. You don’t want to break away and neither does he. Once Hyunjin has his hands on you everything around him loses its importance. The only thing his body longs for—needs as if his survival depends upon it—is you. But he manages to turn you loose for your own safety, locking the door when you leave to be extra safe.

Without another word, he circles the room slowly closing each curtain he opened only moments ago. “What happened? Change of heart?” the man taunts, trying and failing to get a rise out of him. Hyunjin grabs the vintage French parlor chair positioned by the window and drags it to the darkest corner of the room. He sits in silence, his face void of emotion, his eyes unblinking. Hyunjin’s focus is no longer on his prisoner but on the evolution of the light that breaks through the curtains.

Minute after agonizing minute passes until the fear of the unknown forces the man to ramble off everything he can think of. Insults, confessions, pleas for mercy. None of it gets the slightest reaction until the faintest sunbeam casts its light on the carpet. Hyunjin rises, locking eyes with the man for the first time as he approaches the sunbeam. “My wife always said we all have special abilities. Things that make us unique,” he says, rolling up his left sleeve. “I didn’t believe her at first but then one day I got caught in the sun.”

Hyunjin shoves his forearm into the sunlight, his bare skin exposed to what should be eating through him like acid. “Nothing, see? It takes a while for me to burn but you—I have a feeling you’ll strike up like a match.” “No, please! You don’t understand!” Hyunjin smirks, twirling over to the window, “You don’t understand. You told my baby she’d burn. You first!” Hyunjin tears open the curtain nearest to the bed, letting the sun shine in at full power. “What a beautiful morning” he hums, sliding the others open to the tune of screams that would wake the dead.

The man on the bed is burning, his skin bubbling like he’s being deep fried. In a sense he is. The heat from the sun is cooking him. He feels every pop. Every sizzle. Tiny fires ignite, charring his skin. Hyunjin watches on, the steam rising from his own skin barely a tickle. He won’t leave this room before he’s seen him burnt to a crisp, reduced to nothing more than a charred corpse for him to deliver to the council as a warning of sorts.

Threaten what he loves and this is only a taste of the fate that awaits them.

[paradlselost]

⠀ ⋆˚࿔ 𝓜ASTERLIST ✞˚⋆

CLOSURE — BLACK NOIR II : of course he has an agenda , thrown into playing this role of a guy whose always stoic and silent - can you blame him for wanting to get to know his character better ? can you be blamed for wanting a little help mourning the sudden death of the man you loved ? THIEF IN THE SHADOWS — BLACK NOIR II : precious diamonds and jewelry guarded by action movie lasers and alarms is easy work for a cat burglar like you . what you don't know , however , is the night you've planned to sneak in is the same night he's on patrol . EVERYBODY LOVES SOMEBODY — OG BLACK NOIR : he's a monster . a machine . killing when he's told and doing what he's asked without hesitation . blood has marred his suit for so long it's almost like a second skin to him . but with you , he feels human again . with you he feels like earving . FIRST LOVE / LATE SPRING — OG BLACK NOIR : leaving you is one of the hardest things he's ever had to do . coming back ? harder . you won't love him after what soldier boy did to him , what earving did to solider boy . mutually assured destruction ; and you just happen to be in the crossfire . ATONEMENT — OG BLACK NOIR / HOMELANDER : the secret has been kept for far too long, both you and earving have lied to him for the entirety of knowing him . doesn’t that deserve some punishment , doll ? he’ll have you atone for the sin you committed against him .

RADIO WAVES — JOHN SEED : after one of the heralds chosen is shot down mid aerial fight , the deputy finds a still working line directly to his radio and taunts him , leading to a rather embarrassing secret being revealed . BOLD AND BRAVE — JOHN SEED : the universe - or rather , God - taunts him in the form of a run-in with the deputy , the woman he had been fantasizing about moments prior and finds out that she too has been thinking of him . CRIMSON — JOHN SEED : rook's selfishness gets the better of her , and despite knowing full well that she is walking into a trap she does anything to get hudson back . at least , thats how she rationalizes her ache to see the herald . WIND UP TOY — JACOB SEED req . : a good dog obeys orders , does what they're told without a fight , eats what they're given without complaint . what can he say ? jacob's always had a soft spot for mutts .

[feralplantwife]

Erzsebet Bathory- Thematic Character Analysis

I've seen a lot of posts about Erzsebet Bathory, and the general sense is that while her design is cool, she's not very well-developed or impressive from a character standpoint. I agree... Somewhat.

I'm going to get into it below, but the TL;DR version is that from a characterization standpoint, she is weak, but from a thematic standpoint, she is Everything.

Disclaimer: I have not been fortunate enough to play any of the games, so this analysis will focus solely on the show. <3

First, what do vampires mean in storytelling?

A vampire can symbolize many things, but here are the big three: they're a representation of the Other, the unknown (kind of like Frankenstein's Monster), but they can also be a manifestation of carnal, sinful, or deviant desires (think Dorian Grey). The one I'm going to focus on here, as it's the most relevant, is the third main type: the Parasite. Vampires are bloodsucking, gluttonous, selfish starving monsters that consume and consume until there is nothing left (think Robert Baratheon).

This was a theme that was explored in the first series with the Church's opulence and their desire to sacrifice innumerable human lives for the sake of their image and power. Carmilla is the same, but in contention with the Church.

This theme is expanded upon beautifully in Nocturne, with the French Revolution bourgeoise and American colonization and slave trade building upon the themes of the first series. Olrex talks about his home being destroyed, his lover's people being exterminated but holding onto his identity even in undeath. Annette holds onto her Yoruban faith and her Creole heritage taught to her by her mother and fellows even after generations of cultural genocide at the hands of her masters- a combination of more than one old indigenous faith and newer conglomerations of the same. (In this way, one could say that Erzsebet Bathory and Annette are foils!)

How does Erzsebet Bathory fit into this thematically?

Let me explain it like this: Erzsebet Bathory is a white woman dripping in stylized opulence who swallowed an Egyptian god. The truest enemy in this series is colonialism: the consumption of everything and everyone that isn't white and Christian to expand white and Christian ideals and desires using God as a face for their misdeeds- the consumption of people, land, culture, religion, knowledge, kindness. What could not be consumed was destroyed.

In this way, Erzsebet Bathory is the manifestation of all the greatest evils people of color and minorities have ever faced, and continue to face today: that of homogenization, exploitation, and destruction.

The fact that this is expanded by her vampiric elitism builds upon this idea by including all human beings. It's open knowledge among many anthropological circles that colonization destroyed a lot of technology, culture, and knowledge, has held society back, and continues to lead to unnecessary and painful struggle among society (largely due to that fact that many developed nations' governments are still being run by vampires today- how are all my fellow Americans doing as we barrel toward a government shutdown for this very reason?).

Erzsebet Bathory signifies the consumption of the human spirit and the death of mankind, wrapped up in a beautifully terrifying amalgam of every single sin the colonizers ever committed. She's not the ultimate character of Nocturne by a long shot, but she is the ultimate monster.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I've been following your Heretic updates and I've been wondering, are the Hours akin to forces of nature - or they beings with desires and fears that are simply too alien for humans to comprehend?

They are beings with desires and fears that are for the most part completely comprehensible. Mother White is the only alien one. They are also forces of nature. The Hours are the aeonic powers that hold the universe together, and maintain an order in which life and the pursuit of apotheosis are possible. Their passions, rages, promises and burdens configure and power the architecture of the universe.

You know what, let's actually run through them.

The Madrugad (the First Hour) is the Hour of the Passage. She ensures that one side of a doorway connects to the other. She also presides over the passage from life to death (and back, if she allows it). She is invoked for summonings and resurrection magic. She attends the Sun-In-Rags in hospice, preventing him from passing into death. She is remote and solemn but broadly benevolent, though not necessarily generous.

The Queen-In-Chains (the Second Hour) is the Prophet's Hour. She presides over all causality and the organization of time. She is completely insane, but probably knows everything, and can act with searing and bewildering precision when she launches some petitioner on a called shot through the butterfly effect.

The Stranger (the Third Hour) is the Hour of Deception. She presides over everything that is unknown, and protects the secrecy of everything which should remain unknown. She's one of the three gods of the Wood, and is generally a real jerk. Trickster gods are almost universally manifestations of the Stranger. Her sister is the Ring-Yew, and the pair generally cooperate when called upon to do so. She is engaged in a friendly rivalry with the Black Captain.

The Rending (the Fourth Hour) is the Hour of Annihilation. He is the destroyer. Rage, cruelty, and pestilence are his offices. He wants to hurt you before you die. He loves the Sunflower King, and inflicts endless torments upon him to express his love. Doesn't really have a bone to pick with any particular other Hour. He intends to kill them all equally.

The Kithmark (the Fifth Hour) is the Hour of the Inner Reach. He maintains the boundary between 'you' and everything that is not 'you.' A lot of yogic practices get into Kithmark veneration. Mostly keeps to himself but if you end up fucking around in Idless at all you'll probably become a big fan of him. He is working very hard all the time to prevent you from being colonized by invading intelligences.

The Pyre-Hawk (the Sixth Hour) is the Hour of Exultation. His office is purification and ascension. He's absolutely 100% of the time in a state of ecstatic joy, and you will be too, if you pursue his favor for long enough! Nobody has beef with the Pyre-Hawk. He's the life of the party and we're all thrilled he's here.

The Sunflower King (the Seventh Hour) is the Hour of Triumph. It is by his will that your will has the power to reshape the world around you. Even the physical laws of the universe give way before the will of the Sunflower King. Proud and resplendent, haughty and flensing, in his kingly greatness he submits to be Rended to spare all of creation from facing the same scourge. The most beloved of the Hours for the greatness of his sacrifice. The Madderblade is his guardian and knight. All hail.

The Madderblade (the Eighth Hour) is the Hour of Conquest & Reconciliation. The fusion and fission of every atom in the universe are only the echoes of her towering victories in both love and violence. She is glorious. She is always serving. She is the first force that ever slew an Hour. Her blade bit the heart of Mother White. The Black Captain wants to fuck her so bad it makes him look stupid. She loves him too. They've been in a state of relentless war ever since acknowledging their passion, to prevent themselves from committing the calamitous Sin of the Sky.

The Bent Minstrel (the Ninth Hour) is dead, which is very bad. He was the second of the three gods of the Wood, and presided over the movement of nature. People who know about this sort of thing generally speak well of his memory, although often in the same way that they call the fairies "the good neighbors." Wild Hunts and horned gods aside, he was the right Hour to pray to if you wanted your harvests to be plentiful and the weather to be good. He also inspired art & music, which he perceived to be just more manifestations of the weather. Mother White ate him.

The Ring-Yew (the Tenth Hour) is the Merciful Hour. Every lucky break you've ever gotten when the chips were down was thanks to her. She is the particular protector of children, prisoners, slaves, martyrs, animals, and the lost. She is the third god of the Wood, and by far the nicest one. Fortunate is he who glimpses the edge of her silver hand in his moment of despair, because a path to peace and freedom is about to open up before him. She is completely incapable of any kind of violence.

Mother White (the Eleventh Hour) is the Hour of Vibrance. Hers is the vital force which allows life to multiply and which reanimates the dead. She is constantly hungry and has no other motivation that anyone has ever been able to determine before she ate them. It's hard to even tell if she communicates, or if she's just mimicking communication in order to entice you to come close enough that she can get her jaws around you. She's an awful grub and probably unkillable, but who knows what she'd pupate into if she could ever get enough to eat? Maybe something that wouldn't be so alien and dangerous.

The Stone Beggar (the Twelfth Hour) is also dead, but it seems unlikely that he'll stay that way. He was the Hour of Inevitability, and presided over the turning wheel. His name is still invoked by revolutionaries, and cursed by those who would try to cling to power beyond their appointed time. It is thanks to his kindness and to his cruel indifference that the wheel always turns. He was noble, quiet, and implacable in war. Mother White ate him too.

The Uranian (the Thirteenth Hour) is the Hour of Daring. Alone out of all the Hours, he was once a mortal man. His offices are magic and the movement of the spheres. Kind of a dick tbh, very into backstabbing your way to the top. The kind of guy who would actually say "don't hate the player, hate the game."

The Black Captain (the Fourteenth Hour) is the Hour of Satisfaction. It is by his will that oaths, vengeance, and victory hold power. He used to be the greatest of the stalking kings of Mithra, before the Madrugad summoned him into mundus to defend her domicile (in which the Sun-In-Rags takes sanctuary) from the ravages of Mother White, during the War of Intercalation. Dutiful, cunning, ruthless, and skillful. He's the sink to the Madderblade's source, you know? The Romans were really into him.

Those are all the currently seated Hours. There are more beings you can petition: like the Ecdysiast, the Wakefire, the Flayed Widow, and the Hanged Rider, all of whom were killed during the War of Intercalation and their Thrones have subsequently been taken by others (the Madderblade, the Pyre-Hawk, the Uranian, and the Black Captain, respectively). There are also Great Leviathan and the First Ant, neither of whom have ever been Hours, but are sufficiently titanic beings that they have a lot in common with the Hours. But you get the idea. They're not incomprehensible at all, except for Mother White.

[nikito0x]

RadioApple AU - Forget me not

I am too lazy to write a whole fic of it, but I can't get this plot bunny out of my head so here we go:

This is so AU it will never be canon (obviously) but it's ridiculous enough to be believable.

To start off: We all know the age old story of Lucifer's fall and the way he and Lilith got together. Right? Well forget all about it. In this AU it's all a lie. Let me explain.

The first humans to have ever been created were Alastor and Lilith. They were acquaintances and simply live peacefully in the Garden of Eden for a while. There is nothing romantic between them.

Lucifer gets assigned to watch over them and at some point witnesses Alastor interacting with some of his creations. So he decides to ask him about his opinion of them.

They start a conversation about Lucifer's other, weirder, creations. Some of which were rejected by the elder angels.

Alastor, as someone who gets easily bored, finds Lucifer's ideas amusing and intriguing. So they become friends, partially thanks to Alastor's pure fascination with Lucifer's mind, and partially thanks to Lucifer having finally found someone who would listen to his ideas and even like them. Not to mention add some of their own to his to create something even greater.

So they become friends. Lucifer starts visiting Alastor more and more often as time passes.

Alastor witnesses how Lucifer isn't exactly treated great by his siblings a lot of the time and tries to soothe the angel or distract him with a new invention that may never be allowed to be created, but would be fun to think about anyway.

Lucifer gets isolated from his siblings because of his "shortcomings" and at some point ends up in a situation where he has to ask for Alastor's help with preening his wings as no one else would.

Alastor notices Lucifer being uncomfortable and asks about it. Lucifer tries to deflect and ignore the problem but Alastor convinces him to trust him with whatever issue he has. And so - wing grooming happens.

Insert typical Wing Fic tropes here.

This becomes a regular occurrence.

Meanwhile Lilith is just chilling and exploring the garden. Nothing much to see here 👀

Michael is going to be sort of a villain in here.

Michael sees the bond forming between his brother and this inferior creature his father has created and disapproves of it. So he decides he will have to seperate them for the good of everybody.

Michael goes to Lilith and convinces her to help him with that task. Lilith would try talking to Alastor and Michael would talk to Lucifer.

Lilith is confused and uncertain about that. She tries asking questions but he rebuffs her and simply reassures her that it's all for the greater good.

In the end Lilith just asks something like: "What if I can't? What if I don't succeed?" And Michael implies that her existence is at stake if this doesn't work.

Remember: Alastor and Lilith are the first ever humans. They haven't eaten the fruit and know very little of the world, only what they've been told and found out for themselves. And since they have committed no sin yet, they are basically immortal as long as they don't injure themselves to a point of no return. And so they don't know pain like a regular human does.

Lilith becomes fearful of Michael's warning and tries explaining to Alastor the importance of not associating with Lucifer anymore. Alastor is confused and doesn't understand her worry, so he doesn't listen. Lucifer is too much fun for him to just abandon him like that. Besides, he's started to care some for the angel. He won't just do something without a good reason for it.

Alastor, in this sense, knows more than Lilith since he's been in contact with Lucifer (who's been explaining things to him) for a while now. Alastor would know more of the world than Lilith and wouldn't just make a rash decision to follow any order he is given like she does.

Michael also fails in convincing Lucifer that Alastor isn't worth his time. The conversation does rather the opposite of what he wanted, as Lucifer is reminded of all the things Michael and the other angels didn't do for him, that Alastor did in their stead.

Alastor and Lucifer talk about it and simply decide to ignore them and continue as they have.

At some point Michael gets frustrated and gives Lilith an ultimatum. Get this done by the end of the week or God will be informed.

"Remember, your existence might be at stake." And so Lilith panics.

Nearing the end of the week, Michael becomes impatient and introduces Lilith to something no human at that point has ever experienced. Pain.

He cuts her hand with an angelic weapon to prove to her what she could feel (if not a 100 times worse) if she doesn't comply. The cut is shallow, barely there and Michael heals it afterwards, but Lilith has never experienced such a horrible thing before. This was pain? And it can be a lot worse?? No, she has to separate Lucifer and Alastor at any cost.

Michael stays in the shadows and observes, satisfied.

Lilith, out of desperation, reaches the conclusion that it would be better for Alastor to get hurt than her, since he is the one who doesn't wish to listen to God's will. And so, in a frantic state of panic, Lilith attacks him.

She doesn't really know what would happen if she hits him hard enough with a rock or sth, since neither of them have ever truly witnessed death at that point; so she tries hurting him to show him the consequences of his actions if he doesn't listen to her.

Alastor ends up accidentally killing her in self defense. Alastor pushes Lilith away but as she rolls away from him she hits her head on a rock and dies that way.

Alastor explains everything to Lucifer and Lucifer goes to find Michael because this situation stinks of his interference.

God finds out about the situation and sends both Lilith and Alastor's souls to Hell.

Lilith starts hating Alastor and Lucifer from then on. So when she and Alastor meet in Hell, she screams at him that if he'd just listened to her, they wouldn't be in this situation. He tries reasoning with her, even as much as he's angry with her, but she just storms off away from him.

The first residents of Hell have been added.

Alastor still gets his deer like characteristics as he spent a lot of time in their presence at the Garden of Eden.

Meanwhile, Lucifer finds out where Alastor has ended up and tries to convince God to change his mind. He doesn't.

So he makes a plan. The new humans have been created. They're supposed to be better than the last ones. Lucifer tries to prove God wrong by getting Adam and Eve in trouble. He tries to prove that just sending every human who has made a mistake in Hell without a chance to redeem themselves gets you nowhere. But his plan doesn't work the way he wished, as Adam and Eve are turned mortal and Lucifer gets sent to Hell as well.

Michael is the last person Lucifer sees as he falls, wings cut off, betrayed and in pain.

Alastor finds him and helps him heal mentally and physically. They end up actually getting together there and they are the most disgustingly adorable couple ever.

They build Hell up and create Pentagram City. They're happy and the people of Hell respect them and appreciate their presence.

Lilith's POV meanwhile: she starts asking questions like: Okay but what if nothing bad would have happened if Lucifer and Alastor stayed together? What if Michael lied to me? Well, he could still have hurt me (for his own agenda) when I was alone, since Alastor spent all of his time with Lucifer. And I don't have anyone else. Well, if I have to be miserable and alone, then I'll make sure they are as well. And I'll take Hell for my own in the meantime.

So now she hates all three of them. Yes, she's a victim but she chooses to deal with the anger and grief she has in a toxic way.

Charlie will still exist in this universe, but for now, she'll be a creation of Lucifer's who somehow combines his and Alastor's energies, and uses whatever powers of creation he has as an angel, to create her.

Even with the depressing circumstances of only being able to see the worst of humanity, Lucifer doesn't fall into depression like in canon, not to that extent at the very least; Alastor an Charlie would be there for him after all.

He ends up ruling hell well, having Alastor's help doing so as he is the more politically savvy between the two of them.

( Spark of Redemption: After being cast down, Lucifer could create Charlie as a symbol of hope. Her creation could combine his angelic power with Alastor's understanding of humanity, creating a being with the potential for good even in Hell. Balancing Darkness: Charlie could be born as a counterpoint to the growing darkness in Hell. Her presence, filled with Lucifer and Alastor's love, could offer a glimmer of light for lost souls.)

( Showcasing the respect Hell's residents have for Lucifer and Alastor can be done through small details: demons seeking their counsel, celebrations held in their honor, or acts of loyalty in times of trouble.)

The Morningstar family is as wholesome as it can get in a place like Hell.

Shared Responsibilities: Charlie, with her inherent compassion, focuses on rehabilitation efforts in Hell, while Alastor manages the day-to-day operations and Lucifer acts as the final authority figure. They respect each other's strengths and work together for the good of Hell.

After a few decades in hell, Lilith disappears. No one knows where she went. She's gone for a long while until she pops up again, more powerful than ever.

In reality, Lilith made a deal with Roo. It is in Roo's interest that Lilith uses her concerts to spread sin and rebellion in order to turn Hell into a domain of evilness to fuel her power. Roo in return gifts Lilith power, she becomes strong enough to affect most with her voice and words, even someone as powerful as Lucifer himself.

No one but the two of them are aware of this deal being made. The deal was made some time after hell establishes a proper society with its own system.

Lilith decides to build her power, by making deals with other demons for their souls, her deal with Roo enhances those deals and gives her a larger boost than it would have given her otherwise.

Lilith decides it's time to enact her revenge.

She targets Alastor, knowing that without him, Lucifer will crumble under the pressure like what happened in canon with his depression. This would cause Hell to go in chaos once their powerful leader seems to have lost any care for the souls in his domain. This would spread sin and rebellion in Hell even further.

Lilith holds Charlie hostage as she makes a deal with Alastor for both Lucifer and Charlie's safety. She uses her voice/songs to brainwash them into forgetting Alastor's very existence. She does the same to the whole of hell.

Instead, she replaces Alastor with herself in those memories and convinces everyone that she's been the one by Lucifer's side all along. For the safety of his loved ones, Alastor signs away his soul to her. Lilith forbids him from approaching Lucifer, and from telling him anything about the truth of what actually happened between the three of them (Lilith, Lucifer and Alastor).

In the meantime Alastor's powers are severely restricted and he is not allowed to make deals for other demons' souls in an attempt to increase his strength.

Lilith goes to Heaven, making sure that Roo's plans for the yearly exterminations are going well and that her hidden seeds of sin in Heaven continue to grow. Lilith is strong but not strong enough to defeat Lucifer in battle. Replacing his memories of someone with another wasn't easy, but was simple enough to trick the mind to do.

She knows she can't convince him to give her his crown, not now anyway. She is convinced she would rule Hell eventually. As Roo's powers from the spread sin and chaos grow, so would hers - a nice gift from Roo to her, as she's doing such a fine job on their deal. Lilith disappears for seven years.

After all that Alastor tries his best to regain any power he can. He looks for loopholes in his deal with Lilith and realizes that Lilith didn't forbid him from approaching Charlie, so once he feels he can be of help to her in any way, he would approach her.

Lilith didn't forbid him all interaction with Lucifer. Lucifer can still approach him himself and they can talk about other things that don't include the contents of Alastor's deal.

Alastor also figures out that Lilith had made a deal with someone powerful, he doesn't know who, but he knows she can't have gained abilities strong enough to manipulate an angel from just deals for others' souls.

Alastor is convinced, however, that given time and some reminders Lucifer will be able to break through Lilith's deception, as he is still more powerful than she is. (he is right).

For now Alastor has a new goal: Get stronger and get noticed by the king of Hell somehow. That's how he becomes an overlord.

Once radio was brought in hell, he makes it a part of his brand (as it is in canon);

That's how he meets Vox. Here is why they don't get along in this AU. For one, Vox is a clout chaser while Alastor does radio mainly for himself and his own enjoyment; and other such character differences that get in the way of them being truly close.

Alastor one day approaches Vox with an idea: bring others' memories to the screens of their TVs. Vox loves the idea, he imagines he could make a whole lot of profit by exploiting sinners' longing for home by bringing their memories of Earth to their screens.

The project is going well and Alastor finally decides to share his reasons for coming up with such an idea. He tells Vox that someone he loves was attacked by another with the ability to erase his loved one's memory of him. And he wants that person to remember him again.

Vox becomes angry with Alastor, since he has a crush on the Radio Demon and doesn't want to help him reunite with his love. Vox puts an end to that project. Vox and Alastor fight and Alastor manages to win even with the restriction placed over his powers.

Alastor was really powerful before it. Even now, restricted, he will be above average in regards to power even compared to the other overlords.

After that Alastor disappears for 7 years - like in canon. Maybe he's looking for alternative ways to get more powerful. Maybe he finds out that cannibals have just that little bit more power to them than regular demons and joins them as he has nothing left to lose. Maybe he's looking for other demons with the power to affect the mind. Maybe he tries making deals for favors instead of souls. Maybe he gathers allies to fight alongside him against Lilith for the future. Idk.

Alastor uses his weakened powers to subtly manipulate events around the developing hotel, guiding Charlie's path with anonymous warnings or nudges to ensure her safety.

After he comes back, the events in canon from season 1 proceed to happen as they originally did. The only difference being that Alastor cares about the residents of the hotel more than in canon.

He sort of becomes "the dad" of the group, before Lucifer shows up.

Lucifer and Alastor still have their fight in "Hell's greatest dad" with their song. The difference is that Alastor has different motivations for being angry with Lucifer. He intentionally calls Lucifer a dud in their song, because he is angry with how neglectful he had become to Charlie in the 7 years he was gone.

Canon events happen as they originally did until the end of season 1. Alastor still makes a deal with Charlie for a favor. The difference is that this time he plans to use it in a situation like this- example: Charlie's loyalty to her friends might threaten her safety and Alastor plans to use his favor to make her run if needed.

Alastor uses his fight with Adam to test his strength and see if he has managed to get any stronger despite the restrictions he is under. He still loses that fight. Even if some of his strength was returned it isn't anything significant. Alastor learns to use whatever little powers he has as efficiently as possible. Low effort maximum efficiency.

After that first season Alastor and Lucifer start getting along better. Lucifer realizes Alastor was angry with him for his absence in Charlie's life even when he doesn't know where that anger stems from and resolves himself to be better for her in the future. He tells Alastor so and they forgive each other for whatever wrongs were inflicted. They still tease each other often, but that's just a part of their dynamic.

Eventually Lucifer will start getting dreams of things that look like memories but can't be because he doesn't remember ever having done those things with Alastor. He ignores the dreams, dismissing them as wishful thinking as he had started to view Alastor as a close friend after they forgave each other.

Lucifer slowly falls in love with Alastor, and those dreams continue to haunt him.

Alastor never fell out of love with Lucifer to begin with.

There will be a whole lotta angst in regards to Alastor. He will have to realize that during the time him and Lucifer were separated they have become different people entirely and he will have to let go of the past and maybe get used to Lucifer and him being friends because he doesn't know if they'll ever be anything more.

And with how much he's changed - becoming an overlord and a cannibal to boot, he doesn't know if Lucifer could ever accept him. Especially since at the time he just sees him as just another terrible sinner.

Alastor falls in love with that new version of his husband and Lucifer does the same.

Eventually Lucifer breaks through Lilith's enchantment and him and Alastor have a proper reunion. Lucifer will break the enchantment on Charlie soon after.

Alastor writes down what happened and explains why he made the deal with Lilith (he can't tell anyone anything, but he can write it down)

Lucifer will be able to get him out of it with some time.

Eventually they will fight and win against Heaven.

Maybe they'll cause a rebellion in Heaven by it's residents by using both Lucifer's angelic power and Alastor's radio show to broadcast the truth of their pure leaders. The ones that take pleasure in killing and hunting those who are already down.

Whew! Done! Finally! Whoop!

It turned out far longer than I thought it would but here you go ig.

[book--brackets]

Fledgling by Octavia E. Butler (2005)

This is the story of an apparently young, amnesiac girl whose alarmingly unhuman needs and abilities lead her to a startling conclusion: She is in fact a genetically modified, 53-year-old vampire. Forced to discover what she can about her stolen former life, she must at the same time learn who wanted-and still wants-to destroy her and those she cares for and how she can save herself.

Weaveworld by Clive Barker (1987)

The Fugue, a magical land inhabited by descendants of supernatural beings who once shared the earth with humans. The Fugue has been woven into a carpet for protection against those who would destroy it; the death of its guardian occasions a battle between good and particularly repulsive evil forces for control of the Fugue.

Fractured Fables by Alix E. Harrow (2021-2022)

It's Zinnia Gray's twenty-first birthday, which is extra-special because it's the last birthday she'll ever have. When she was young, an industrial accident left Zinnia with a rare condition. Not much is known about her illness, just that no-one has lived past twenty-one.

Her best friend Charm is intent on making Zinnia's last birthday special with a full sleeping beauty experience, complete with a tower and a spinning wheel. But when Zinnia pricks her finger, something strange and unexpected happens, and she finds herself falling through worlds, with another sleeping beauty, just as desperate to escape her fate.

Midnighters by Scott Westerfeld (2004-2006)

A few nights after Jessica Day arrives in Bixby, Oklahoma, she wakes up at midnight to find the entire world frozen. For one secret hour each night, the town belongs to the dark creatures that haunt the shadows. And only a small group of people--Jessica included--is free to move about then. They are The Midnighters.

Pet by Akwaeke Emezi (2019)

There are no monsters anymore, or so the children in the city of Lucille are taught. Jam and her best friend, Redemption, have grown up with this lesson all their life. But when Jam meets Pet, a creature made of horns and colors and claws, who emerges from one of her mother’s paintings and a drop of Jam’s blood, she must reconsider what she’s been told. Pet has come to hunt a monster—and the shadow of something grim lurks in Redemption’s house. Jam must fight not only to protect her best friend, but also uncover the truth, and the answer to the question—How do you save the world from monsters if no one will admit they exist?

The Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe (1980-1987)

It is the tale of young Severian, an apprentice in the Guild of Torturers on the world called Urth, exiled for committing the ultimate sin of his profession - showing mercy toward his victim - and follows his subsequent journey out of his home city of Nessus.

The Supernaturalist by Eoin Colfer (2004)

In the future, in a place called Satelite City, fourteen-year-old Cosmo Hill enters the world, unwanted by his parents. He's sent to the Clarissa Frayne Institute for Parentally Challenged Boys, Freight class. At Clarissa Frayne, the boys are put to work by the state, testing highly dangerous products. At the end of most days, they are covered with burns, bruises, and sores. Cosmo realizes that if he doesn't escape, he will die at this so-called orphanage. When the moment finally comes, Cosmo seizes his chance and breaks out with the help of the Supernaturalists, a motley crew of kids who all have the same special ability as Cosmo-they can see supernatural Parasites, creatures that feed on the life force of humans. The Supernaturalists patrol the city at night, hunting the Parasites in hopes of saving what's left of humanity in Satellite City. Or so they think. The Supernaturalist soon find themselves caught in a web far more complicated than they'd imagined, when they discover a horrifying secret that will force them to question everything they believe in.

Dragon Slippers by Jessica Day George (2006-2009)

Poor Creel. She can't believe her aunt wants to sacrifice her to the local dragon. It's a ploy to lure a heroic knight so that he will fight the dragon, marry Creel out of chivalrous obligation, and lift the entire family out of poverty. Creel isn't worried. After all, nobody has seen a dragon in centuries.

But when the beast actually appears, Creel not only bargains with him for her life, she also ends up with a rare bit of treasure from his hoard, not gold or jewels, but a pair of simple blue slippers-or so she thinks. It's not until later that Creel learns a shocking truth: She possesses not just any pair of shoes, but ones that could be used to save her kingdom, which is on the verge of war, or destroy it.

Lost Boy: The True Story of Captain Hook by Christina Henry (2017)

There is one version of my story that everyone knows. And then there is the truth. This is how it happened. How I went from being Peter Pan's first--and favorite--lost boy to his greatest enemy. 

Peter brought me to his island because there were no rules and no grownups to make us mind. He brought boys from the Other Place to join in the fun, but Peter's idea of fun is sharper than a pirate's sword. Because it's never been all fun and games on the island. Our neighbors are pirates and monsters. Our toys are knife and stick and rock--the kinds of playthings that bite. 

Peter promised we would all be young and happy forever. Peter lies.

The Elric Saga by Michael Moorcock (1965-1977)

It is the color of a bleached skull, his flesh; and the long hair that flows below his shoulders is milk-white. From the tapering, beautiful head stare two slanting eyes, crimson and moody... He is Elric, Emperor of Melnibone, cursed with a keen and cynical intelligence, schooled in the art of sorcery and the hero of Michael Moorcock's remarkable epic of conflict and adventure at the dawn of human history. 

[altocat]

As much as I do love and support Lucretia's dubious science wrongs, I think it's important to remember everyone on the Jenova Project (sans Hojo) Really did believe that Jenova was a Cetra. To Lucretia her baby, if everything went correctly, would be no different from a human aside from having the ability to speak with the Planet and help find the "promised land".

Doing so would be the greatest feat in science, it would abate an inevitable energy crisis and make the entire world a better place, basically the ultimate repentance for wrong she felt she committed to Grimoire. She did not know she was putting evil alien genes into her baby, and it was Hojo's abusive ass who kept that information from her and everyone else. Her tragedy is more in the fact she was conned than her setting out to do evil science from go.

I would definitely argue that Gast is way worse than Lucrecia. From what I understand, he eventually found OUT that Jenova wasn't a Cetra and rather than take responsibility for his actions, he dumped Sephiroth in order to pursue something else, leaving him at the mercy of Hojo. I understand this is all offscreen subtext that they could easily retcon it in Part 3, but yeah. Lucrecia still did nothing wrong compared to Gast.

I frame Lucrecia's logic as her committing to the Jenova Project as a way to make up for what happened with Grimoire, as you said above. I believe she genuinely thought this was a redemption of sorts, and that she'd be permitted to be involved in Sephiroth's upbringing. There's nothing in her speech or motives that suggests that she would have EVER sanctioned Sephiroth becoming a weapon. I think that's probably why Hojo stole Sephiroth from her at the first opportunity. Lucrecia probably thought she was birthing some sort of child-savior that she could groom and nurture into becoming a protector of the planet, a Cetra that could revolutionize the foundations of the world. Her shock and horror at Sephiroth being taken AWAY from her suggests that she WANTED him in her life, and that she recognized that giving him over to Hojo was a bad thing.

I'd also like to point out that (also unlike Gast), Lucrecia left because there was no rational way for her to reach Sephiroth. Having failed to save Vincent, she likely reasoned that she was completely powerless in going up against a major organization like Shinra. If she can't even rescue her baby from Hojo, how could she possibly go up against the very SYMBOL of fascist capitalism? The very same organization that starts WARS with ARMIES of soldiers at its disposal? Sephiroth would have been heavily guarded. And Hojo could just as easily threaten his life if Lucrecia got any fancy ideas. Whereas Gast fled for his own selfish pursuits, Lucrecia fled out of despair and complete futility, looking to PUNISH herself any way that her body would allow in penance for her sins. She wanted her son. But she couldn't have him. It was one more life she couldn't save. And since she couldn't die on her own terms, she sought whatever means necessary to isolate herself from the rest of the world, to ensure that she couldn't do any more damage.

Do I think Lucrecia would have been a good mother to Sephiroth? No, probably not. I think she would have loved him, and would have done her best to be a good mother to him. But I also think her demons would have caught up with her and she would not always be the most stable presence to be around. I think having her in his life would have been infinitely healthier for Sephiroth than the canon alternative. But that doesn't mean that Lucrecia would be the ideal mother he fantasizes about.

I just think that Lucrecia is NOT the unholy satanic abomination that "fans" label her to be. She's a tragic character caught in a downward spiral. With no idea how to claw her way out. She's done terrible things, but not out of malice or the desire to cause harm to others. She wants to fix her mistakes. But she doesn't know how. And so she punishes herself over and over and over again, unintentionally making the situation worse. It's honestly kind of depressing. I don't think she needs to be a perfect, flawless, angelic character. But she's far from the worst offender in the Jenova Project.

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

of the father and the son

warnings: major character death, referenced assault and battery, religious themes, weird references to cumbia and salsa, basically just every warning related to the events of jason's death

it started as all rendezvous do. knowing glances, a delicate chase between tomcat and robin. a dare: catch me if you can. his partner slips out of the room unbeknownst to all except his target. the game is afoot.

they meet alone in a room. it starts with a dance. a cumbia variation. right step, left step. cross body lead. a slide to the left, a turn to the right.

“agua!” his partner cries in delight. their movements are a blur as he fights to keep control. hesitation, block, check. and then, a change of place. a change of pace.

time comes to a stand still. his head dips. he has been ensnared.

but what type of dance would it be without music? there’s not much to work with, so they improvise a duet. his partner provides the rhythm, and if done well, his jaybird rewards him with an “a” note. it’s syncopated.

clang, a-lang, a-lang, a—clang, a-lang, a-lang, AH—

but every cinderella’s evening must come to come to an end. and the clock is about to strike midnight.

                               before they part, he leaves him a small gift.

                                a gentle caress of the cheek, so he won’t

                                                             forget

                                                              their

                                                              time

                                       to                   gether.

                                        the            wound,

                                               it burns.

the spell is broken. it is 12 o’clock. and the jaybird is all alone.

12 is a funny number. it was the egyptians, who had first decided to split the night into 12 parts based on the 12 asterisms. it was caesar, who had ordered the creation of a 12 month calendar. it was jesus, who had 12 apostles before he was betrayed and that number became 11. and soon, the 12 seconds jason todd had left were about to become

11.

on good days, his mother (no that wasn’t right. his real mother was the unconscious woman the joker had left sitting across the room from him. his mother was the woman who had brought him into this world just so he could die for humanity’s sins. her included, for she too was only human) caretaker was atheist. it was only on the nights when the electricity bill had not been paid and the snow piled high on their window ledge, that she began to pray. a private mass, just the two of them. a confessional without a booth, a church without a father.

10.

he had thought she was silly then, all pressed up against the wall to steal the warmth from the next unit over as she preached of loving thy neighbour. they were bundled up in as many layers as they could wring out of the closet. under the last-washed-in-august comforter, he wore a puffer and under that, his sunday best. it was the warmest he had, all wool and short around the ankles, with a bulky security tag pressed against the small of his back. it was the only thing his father had ever left for him. he had hated her perpetual prayers that kept him from sleep. now, he longed for those days. at least then, he wouldn’t have died alone.

9.

our father, who art in heaven. did jesus pray like this too, when he was on the cross? did he ever curse the fact that even as he bled out, he could not say “my father”? for everybody is a child of god. even the prostitutes who sold themselves for a full stomach and a roof over their heads. even the criminals on either side of him, who committed sins much worse than telling the truth. even the very soldiers who had hung him there and pierced holes in him that would never mend. did jesus ever wonder why, out of all of god’s children, he had been the chosen one, born to die?

8.

he had always been taught that good things come to those who do good. he had always tried to do good by others. he had stopped his classmates from being bullied. he had fought that mugger who was about to take some old lady’s purse. he had tried to take down the joker all alone despite orders because he had wanted to save his mother. surely, those were all good actions. surely he was good.

7.

did jesus’ father ever take pity on him? god must have seen him bleeding out. even if he had accepted this fate, surely every parent’s instinct is to protect. the child’s role is to be foolish, and the parent’s role is to forgive. so surely, his own father could overlook this mistake one time. he would be rescued and they could pretend this was nothing more than a bad nightmare. but jesus hadn’t made it off his cross alive, had he?

6.

everything would be alright. his father wasn’t god. his father was batman. and batman would never let anybody die on his watch. hell, even if it was the joker locked up in here with the bomb about to go off, his father would probably save him too. god, though? god couldn’t even save his son.

5.

what was he worried about? his father would break through this door with a badass kick and save him just in the nick of time. that would show that stupid clown.

4.

any second now, his father would break through this door and save him in the nick of time.

3.

any second now, his father would come to save him.

2.

his father would come to save him.

1.

dad…save me

0.

.

.

.

they created a lovely tableau. a broken figure, no more human than he is alive, cradled in the lap of a parent he no longer fits into. mother and son, engraved in marble. father and son, covered in ash. time continues on its lumbering path, but a parent’s grief never changes.

[anteroom-of-death]

Unnecessary Evil

Synopsis: What was going on in the Doctor's mind when he escaped the Confession Dial? At what limits did he let his mind wander to? What prompted his redemption?

A/N: it's so fun playing with characters that don't have concepts of human morality. Warnings for general darkness and such.

Coming out of Hell, his ears rang like a bomb detonated in his general vicinity. Deafening. Blood-draining. The paranoia seeping in. Both of his hearts shot cold.

He turned to face wherever he was.

Of course! His own traitorous, ungrateful race. Of course! Jealous and naturally unambiguous, these demented fools, ever so committed to his demise. At the cost of her.

Never satisfied. Even after he, all of him, bailed them out of the War. It probably caved in their illusions of dignity. Saved by one of the ones they cleaved into rejecting. Useless unless used…

He craved to reach into the chest of whoever was responsible, and crush their hearts. Probably Rassilon. Or that general who called him mad, even as he held the fate of their entire survival in this hands. Mangle theirs as his had been. He craved to beat them as bloody as he was in that dial. (Although, the blood draining from him each time took on new levels of pleasure in her absence.) He felt more animal than Time Lord, all fried nerves and the lust to take his teeth and tear into their jugulars. Every single last of the arrogant high-born class he had the displeasure of being born into. Watch them regenerate helplessly as he ran their lives out.

No plan, yet.

And violence on this level would disappoint her. His beautiful Clara, her rage would never cease if he saved her after he slaughtered every single last one of them.

He had to do a cleaner job for her sake.

The image of wanting to reach his hands into their bleeding chests still gave him a rush. A just cause- a million lives for one…he had done it before.

What did he call himself once? The Time Lord Victorious.

Yeah, he could do that once more. Being the only one of his kind seemed delicious at the moment.

Even the Gallifreyans that weren’t a part of the Time Lords would benefit. Lives under such disgusting and pathetic ponces would be better off erased from the count of the universe. The elite grew fat off pretense while everyone else starved- where they could still breathe, his Clara lay dead in the long-forgotten past on Trap Street.

A past that the High Council and him remembered. That stupid little human he regretted saving had probably blotted her from her bratty memory. All of Clara’s loved ones lay dead and drained of existence.

All but erased.

It sucked the air from his lungs and felt like glass had waded its way into his guts.

To forget Clara Oswald, in her infinite sass, her boundless character, her goodness? A sin worse than any recorded by any faith imagined by any weaker mind. How nobly she had gone off to die! Without him.

How he regretted not going to her, to hold her warm, little hand as she breathed her last. Not alone, die in her place or even die right with her? To lay in his final death beside her? To lie in the cold ground of Earth right beside her? Silent bliss. What he was owed.

Another sin.

A necessary evil to blot out an inexcusable one? He already knew he wasn’t a good man. He’d long since established that within himself.

He wouldn’t grieve for her, he’d go to her. Save her. Fix this. Burn this planet and all its people out of existence.

A plan began to form.

Alone with all he stood for draining out of him. He needed new clothes. Nothing she would call Doctor-y or enjoy.

Doctor no more.

Of course the wee folk, the ones that truly recognized his sacrifice over the years would welcome him, and they did.

The hospitality was worlds-class as he laid himself down and rage took over.

Of course, the first thing these parasites did was threaten them to get at him. Weak, parasitic creatures. Getting an immortal earthling to bring him to heel?

One line was drawn in the sand.

He crossed another line.

Rassilon had all of time now to run terrified of him, terrified of what the bastard son of these Time Lords may do to him. His hearts could stop in fear every time he saw a shadow. His brain may eat at him in agony of it all. Maybe he’d become a sacrifice to a mad Dalek or even worse, some foe of the Time Lords that they blotted out of reach and memory.

Maybe he’d chase him down. Nowhere to run, just get it over. Dispatch him as cleanly and get it over as quickly as that man ordered the death of her. The Lord President, frozen in fear as he realized that he had no way out, no place to run. Not even a scream escaping his lips as he died like a fox torn by beagles.

Good.

That image felt good.

He found himself the new President, control slipping as he sat around as they quizzed him on the stupid myth of a hybrid. The ludicrous rumor of something half Time Lord- half Dalek…

He couldn’t lie to himself; the windows and walls would benefit from a coat of every single one of these aristocrat’s blood as paint. This body loved to draw and paint. He could even draw his beloved Clara’s face (even though he always had trouble with faces and found it difficult to memorize even his favorite face, hers…) in exquisite detail. Then he could drag the rest of the Time Lords up here and make them apologize to her as he dispatched them.

A slow genocide…

Every single time someone called him by his chosen name, he recoiled. The Doctor was someone Clara could count on. Some title that felt more natural off her tongue. Someone, something that belonged to her.

Who was he now? Was he that Valeyard, whom he would become eventually? Possibly. He didn’t feel there yet. The name didn’t feel remotely natural. He’d have to find a new one to bridge the gap between the Doctor and the Valeyard…

The Sisterhood of Karn stood there as his world divided. Useless. Saccharine. Pretending to play both sides.

There were places in the cosmos where they’d fetch pretty prices. Maybe he could sell them? He had no use for money, but their faces as he sold them to people who’d ruin them in body, mind and spirit would please him. Perhaps he’d purchase the services and watch them flounder in service to him…

The white-hot rage burned through him. All but purifying his mind and detaching himself from the table in which he sat.

So he sat, trying to figure out a new plan, a new name, a new anything. Something to rid him of this guilt, he felt a tug at his gut and an image blind his mind.

Her face.

His Clara’s face. Finally clear, despite this current body’s inability to process faces. Radiant as the day he lost her.

Unlined, except for crinkles around her eyes just beginning to form. Brought on by years of laughter and smiling at him when he managed to save everyone and everything. The little furrow that would smooth itself out after a few hours she’d get when she was deep in thought or grading papers aboard the TARDIS. All these effete elite’s faces had lines from regeneration and ageing into their bodies.

Clara was cut off before she would go grey, before she could wrinkle. Before he could add more lines to her face with smiles and proposals. He was thinking of making their life together official, in a way close to her species. He’d give her anything, a wedding, a million little Clara’s totting around the TARDIS, as bossy and good as their mother, adventures to all of time and space…

Anything. She was what was best of him.

She stopped him from teetering into the entrance of this body’s darkness and preoccupied with morality. She made him good when he didn’t know if he was good.

She wouldn’t want him like this.

Clara wouldn’t want him to be this.

Could he do this? Save her and remain the Doctor?

Did he want to do this?

Could he want this?

The images of what he could do or have done to his entire traitorous race still brought him glee. Glee and pleasure. He still wanted them to pay. He wanted them to feel a single grain of sand compared to the desert of pain he felt. He knew it was sadistic, but he'd been sadistic before. The thin, young, freckly man with the dark eyes and brown hair was certainly a sadist. So was the broad one with the curly blonde hair and a penchant for cat pins and sarcasm. Certainly, his first body was. Before Susan taught him to bleed it out of him. That little blonde bastard enjoyed killing Torvic for Koschei. He enjoyed the god-like feeling that killing someone with your bare hands gave from the very beginning.

Why did this form of sadism feel remotely different?

Options and his plans that started to form became colored with her of course! Clara wouldn’t enjoy his sadism.

Wasn’t he the smartest an most exemplary of then all? He could have his cake and eat it to. If he wanted. He could be sadistic and good too.

Many things can be true at once, he reasoned with himself.

Clara wanted him good.

He could be good for her.

He could bury these past mad days behind him and focus on that. Follow her orders.

He was in obeisance only to her. Even Missy knew. Missy even enjoyed it.

A plan snapped into place. He knew what needed done.

The image of Clara in a woven wedding dress slashed out of his mind’s eye. If he were to save her, he’d never get to offer himself to her on bended knee. Never get to hear her laugh or insults again, or that soft warm slightly-tanned hand in his large pale cold one. Her stomach round and tight with child…

He mourned the infants they should have had. Cradles sadly empty, tombs gladly never filled…

He prayed for love and his mortal dreams now dashed. Prayed to her, his Clara. His life never realized. Her life only a quarter-lived.

Their lives together, cut dreadfully short.

No more yesterday’s or tomorrow’s…

He set out and went to make her happen, to make her happy and alive.

Maybe that would be good enough, to echo her alive like her echoes did theirs. Not ideal, but just enough to give her a chance.

That was the man that he’d want to be for her. Good, or at least trying his best to not be, and not totally stained with the reality of what he was. What she refused to see. What she formed him to be. Different that he should be.

Her perfect Doctor.

And thus, the Doctor was reborn once more…