#you have demon blood in your vains you are a demon point

[writermani4c]

Me and the Devil | Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a nun at an isolated convent. He is in your mind, eating away your mind bit by bit, soon destroying the pillars of your faith. Until you have no choice but to surrender to him, he will destroy all that is necessary.

warnings: He's a vampire. Of course he doesn't have to play fair, does he? There is mind control and there are some rather bloody deaths. I don't think I'm really good with that, I don't think it's too heavy, but it's good that there's a warning.

:: We girls can't bear to see a vampire who is completely obsessed with a woman, who will spill as much blood as it takes to get her, and who has already fallen in love with her. I'm completely obsessed by Nosferatu, even though I couldn't get a screening where I live. This is basically my brain being eaten away by Bill Skarsgard's hunger… I'm always hungry for Bill, but at this point in time I could be kept in a secluded castle to give birth to all of his babies, and I mean that. I hope you enjoy this. By the way, good luck in 2024!

The high-pitched squeak penetrated the stones of the convent, seeping like moss into the soft, bumpy cracks in the porosity, and imitated the soft voice of a wanderer saying a prayer in a dead language, older than time. His understanding was forgotten by men, but that didn't silence him. That voice was still preserved in the air that surrounded you like a thick mantle covering a thick cotton habit, as light as the coat of a holy lamb, which covered you from head to toe in a sacred enclosure. 

Through the narrow window of his room, all that showed were the orange Carpathian mountain ranges in the middle of a mild autumn, with the taste of hot tea and the smell of a fire burning in the evening, when the temperature dropped at night.

The mountain ranges and that stone fortress, far from the convent and yet terribly close.

Every day, the castle seemed to move. When you weren't watching it with your stoic expression, it seemed to grow tentacles over its foundation and creep up slowly. Depending on the day, it seemed further away, with only the tip of its towers appearing between the hills. But when you were getting ready for bed, tucked up in the modest comfort of your little room and wrapped in the soft blanket of your nightgown, the castle seemed terribly close to you, so close that you could feel its evil aura as you raised your hand in a vain attempt to touch it. 

He was calling you. A strength, a terror, a hungry longing.

Come to me, my eternal beloved. 

Tormented, you choked on your own breath. The deep, seductive sound of that voice crept under your blankets at night, and under the modest garments of your nightgown, finding your soft, easy-to-creep skin. His touch was physical, even if you often groped your skin in search of those hands and found nothing but loneliness, and intimacy. So intimate that not even the devil himself, cruel and cunning, could emulate such evil in his attempt to corrupt the Lord Jesus in his trial in the desert.

It scared you.

The feeling of intimacy that belongs to something, that is lost until it is regained. That invisible hand, as well as the voice that only you heard, shook your sense of self and made you feel the narrow mattress slipping off your back, the thin blanket sliding off your body and your fear of dissolving as you floated above the bed. A demonic, ghostly vision, with your eyes rolled back in a trance that nothing and no one could stop.

You felt it, more intimately than you felt anything else, and that was scarier than any of the other traps in hell.

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— My child — greeted the voice on the other side of the wooden confessional booth. The only voice you could turn to in times of extreme need. Father Lengyel was an elderly authority in the convent, as was Mother Superior Illés. If it hadn't been for that, you wouldn't have had the courage to confide in him your greatest fears, seeking the reassurance of his gentle voice. — In your praiseworthy stillness, I can see that something is troubling you. You owe me your ordeal, child.

— Father, help me! — Tired and sleepless after a night awake, with your knees against the floor praying to ward off the tentacles of evil, you felt your eyes grow heavy as you saw the low, hunchbacked shadow of the priest. — I'm cursed. I didn't do anything about it, but I know that the shadow that haunts me was born with me, wrapped around me like an umbilical cord that has never been amputated. I feel it and sometimes I hear its impatience calling my name.

— Fear not, my child. No shadow of a curse is stronger than our Lord's mercy on your spirit, waking you up every morning with a breath of life.

But maybe it's not our Lord, you thought bitterly. You almost disbelieved that God would even work in your cause, probably deciding to wash his hands of you and leave you alone on your ordeal. This thought angered you, wondering how God, your holy God to whom you dedicated your time and efforts to serve with blind devotion, could leave one of his daughters helpless when the claws of the nefarious one threatened to entangle her? 

And anger, even though it was blasphemy with your Father, was easier to manage in your restless spirit than the fear that perhaps God hadn't let go of your hand. Perhaps he was there, following in your footsteps not long ago, weeping blood for not being able to do anything to prevent the evils that awaited you. Maybe there were forces greater than the salvation you blindly tried to reach like a child afraid of the dark.

That thought you swept from your mind, because if that thing was stronger than the Savior you were turning to, there would be no reason to be reluctant in its evil call.

— I beg you, Father, with all the infinite goodness of your being, pray for my soul. 

— I will, my child. You too, pray for wisdom and that the Lord, in his infinite love, will bring you comfort. 

When you left the confessional, you got down on your knees in front of the proudly erected altar. The suffering face of that poor man in his moment of greatest difficulty never comforted you, but inspired you. If even he, the son and Messiah, found the purpose to remain firm on the narrow road of faith, you too would find the strength to stay in the light. You would have to pass through that tortuous valley to have your healing.

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You weren't the youngest in the convent, but you weren't the oldest either. When you arrived, with your only bag with a few belongings and a photo of the home you grew up in, the home that always seemed unworthy of your torments about the terror that was trying to get its claws into you, there were older girls who took you in as a younger sister, teaching you the trade so that you could also teach those who came to the convent after you. This was the mission: you didn't serve God's pure purpose alone, but learned from your sisters so that you could teach others in a cycle that stretched out like an infinite patchwork quilt. 

Among his protégés, the young Agnes was the most cherished. So young and intelligent, she was your faithful dog in the convent corridors. Agnes, who came from a poorer and more literate family than yours, found comfort in listening to you read the Psalms, the book they were given to study. Agnes' chubby cheeks and earthy brown eyes reminded you of the child you would never have, the one you could never run your hand through and love. The Lord was merciful to you in giving you a sister to fill that void and you gave her all the attention you could. Your beloved Agnes sat next to you while you ate your lunch in silence. The soup was thinner, to save supplies for the harsh winter, and the bread was smaller. All deposits were saved and all fasting was done in summer and fall, because in winter your bodies' strength was tested by the ice that seemed to be trying to infiltrate your bones. They would have to eat better to survive until spring.

Next to him, young Agnes choked on her bread.

— Eat slowly. 

— Pardon me, sister! — She stopped eating, lowering her head as if she expected to be punished. You smiled, running your hand over your protégé's head. 

— Don't be like that. I'm talking for your own good, chew better, it also helps to fill your stomach.

The girl turned her face towards you with a soft, youthful smile. 

A low, loud sound caught their attention. It was as if the ceiling had broken, so you looked up in doubt, but it seemed as firm as ever. Surprised gasps and the sound of footsteps moving across the stone floor made you stand up and look around, at the shocked faces of your sisters. 

— Stay behind me, Agnes. — You stood in front of the girl, shielding her with your body, while you searched for the cause of the commotion among the others. 

Another thud made you find the source of the terror. Your older sister, a girl so genuinely kind that she wouldn't mind giving up her own shoes and going barefoot if she had to. Olga. Olga, who was so generous that she always presented the others with little embroideries on old linen handkerchiefs, making them priceless pieces. Olga who hugged you as soon as you arrived, immensely happy as if you were a relative she hadn't seen for years and who was returning home. Your beloved sister Olga's nose was covered in blood and her front teeth were in an equally miserable state. Her blue eyes were completely covered by dark pupils, making them animalistic as she looked around at the familiar faces until she stopped at you. 

She gritted her teeth painfully, teasing the veins in her neck. Olga no longer knew you. She didn't look at you like her younger sister, but with anger.

— Ungrateful! Damn you! — She pointed her slender, cocked forefinger, the knuckles seeming to ache with the effort. — Ungrateful and  damned, unfortunate creature! Look what I do to what you love so much, look what I do to the object of your efforts!

Olga moved her face away from the table enough to almost fall backwards, gripping the edge of the table with her fingers tightly, before putting all her strength forward and, with a hollow sound of something breaking, smashing her nose against the wooden table. The noise tore you apart. Young Agnes' arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you pushed her back. 

Mother Illés rushed into the dining hall. 

She gave you an appeasing look and you understood. With agility, you gathered all the younger girls, totally terrified, and asked them to follow you out while Olga, surrounded and supported by her older sisters, screamed:

— Love me! Devote yourself to me! Command me if you wish, but don't ignore me, my beloved, don't deny me, for I am your lord and savior! I am the master of your pure and tormented soul, my beloved! 

But you, terrified, denied his call once again. You covered your ears as you led the girls into the courtyard outside. The dry autumn wind enveloped you, your voices, but did nothing to muffle the terror in your minds. Little Agnes was still wrapped tightly in your body and soon the others followed suit, seeking warmth in your shivering, freezing body. Concentrating on them, on reassuring them, took your mind off the torturous thought that, yes, he was impatient.

All those years of “tranquility” were his gift, his way of making you surrender voluntarily. But he was lonely. He was hungry. 

Now he controlled Olga's body. 

But not just her. 

That same night, while Olga was tied to her bed under the watchful eye of Mother Illés, Annabeth began to dance as she blew out the candles. You didn't see it, you were busy with your chores, but the others saw it and told you about it in sad, frightened voices. Annabeth, so young and playful, began to twirl around and the others thought she was just playing. The girl liked to play games, hiding pine cones under her pillows and little flowers in the sleeves of her habits. 

She spun around mesmerized, spinning faster and faster and more violently. Her feet seemed bewitched and she suffered without even being able to move her mouth to do so, her teeth clenched in a painful grind as her jaw unhinged. The candles on the altar grew, fueled by something supernatural and unworthy, dancing along with young Annabeth.

That macabre dance ended in a tableau and the flames touching the young woman's habit. The fire consumed her without anyone being able to put it out; no amount of water could stop the flames. They consumed Annabeth until there was nothing left. In her death, she said nothing, but tearing her clothes to get rid of the fire, her name was torn into the soft skin of my body. Her name was everywhere, written with love, sorrow and anger. Like a love-hate letter, he wrote to you through the skin of an innocent girl. 

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You hadn't slept a wink for three nights. 

At the slightest sign of unconsciousness, as you blinked your eyes a little more slowly, it was as if he was lurking there waiting to take you, and this made you resist even though your body could barely stand.

The mother didn't let you take part in the funeral, allowing you only a brief farewell before you were taken to your chambers to rest. 

You didn't want to rest.

Even so, you didn't have the strength to move. Perhaps it was tiredness or apathy, the feeling that all your efforts were useless.You lay there in your narrow bed, watching the day fade away through the shadows on the wall.

The night was his territory. 

Night was when he hid in the wind and entered his room.

Even though he wanted to, there was no voice in his throat to scream and a hot tear ran down his left eye. 

The door to his room opened and, to his relief, Father Lengyel entered his room. The black cloak swirled solemnly around him, like something divine coming to his rescue.

— What ails you, my dear!

— A large, slender hand, smelling of scrubbed earth, touched his face. There was a certain softness to it, even though the ice in your palms made you sigh with the thermal shock. — My poor little lamb! 

The man held your face lovingly, with such care that you simply let go, allowing yourself to cry in dismay at his attentive care. Father Lengyel, so small and twisted, sat on the edge of your bed. A candle burned on the chair on the other side of the room, the glow of the fire casting shadows on the wall next to your bed and leaving you cloaked in that lonely corner. Father Lengyel kissed your cheek, with those closed, dead lips, so cold they made you shiver.

— Father!

— Poor creature!

— My shadow is growing. — You confessed, leaning your face on the old man's hand. — My shadow consumed poor Olga and Annabeth, casting them into the valley of the storm. 

Father Lengyel pulled the blanket away from your body and, in the narrow space that barely fit a body, he lay down with you. Your eyes widened as the man pressed himself against your body. The man you had always seen as a loving and attentive father, a listener incapable of the slightest judgment, lay beside you with the warmth of a lover. 

— You curse us all, my sweet. — His mouth curved into a smile that only reflected darkness. — Everyone, everyone, everyone. My eyes, so blessed with the beauty of your soft skin and childish eyes, your sweet mouth and the shaggy strands of your eyebrows, became the object of his dark admirer's envy and, look, what he did to me.

In the short distance between your faces, that distance you wanted to increase at all costs, you could make out the old man's wrinkled features. His withered cheeks, the corners of his eyes creased by years and years of study and service to the church. His thinning hair was pearly white on his straight head, with little spots like freckles. The eyes, previously blue, weren't there. 

In their place, there was the emptiness of two hollow holes whose darkness seemed to feed with pleasure. 

The priest smiled in her direction.

— Smile, my dear. Who else in the world would be as adored and cherished as you? What other soul would be as worthy of all the fascination of eyes that have seen the rise and fall of empires as the rising and setting of the sun? There are worse ways to live. In complete ignorance, never seen and never remembered, gradually rotting away like this old man. 

In an unknown breath, you felt the instinct to fight with the same strength as the archangels as you sat up in bed, your body trembling from the effort. The priest continued to lie there, moaning with satisfaction as he enjoyed the smell of your hair against the pillow where you had shed your tears. 

He was totally possessed. The evil had taken hold of the most benevolent man you've ever had the pleasure of knowing, save only his own father, a man so generous that he gave up his beloved daughter to the care of a convent without ever doubting his desires to follow a holy life. All was lost.

You got out of bed, your legs wobbly as you dragged yourself out of the room. There were few lit candles and a long corridor. Carefully, you hugged your body and left your quarters, dreading the next demonic sight you would encounter on your way.

The convent seemed more alive than ever. A complete organism. The walls moved as it breathed and guided you in silence, the cold accompanying you like a guardian, a raven on your sullen shoulders. The moon was high in the sky, its pearly glow illuminating what not even candle flames could touch. And you walked, leaning on the walls, groping for balance. In the dining hall, where Olga's blood was embedded in the wood of one of the tables, you saw the shadows of the feet of all your beloved sisters and your devoted mother.

They all floated solemnly, with ropes around their necks. They all looked at you with pupils consumed by darkness and wide smiles, so big that they seemed to rejoice in your presence. 

— My beloved! — cried Clara. 

— Beacon of my darkness! — said Lucia. 

— Don't you see, my beloved? 

With dread, you walked around the tables, looking into their faces. Every single one of them. The rope wasn't taut, they were floating under the invisible force that kept them alive only for a brief moment. Just long enough for you to see them, to remember their names and their faces, their voices, their lives and their untouchable faith. Because they, like your Savior, had no power to stop the terrors you were cursed with at birth.

As soon as your cry marked his arrival in this rotten, petty and cheap world, he also felt the pain in his chest, where his lungs were supposed to work. Your soft cry marked the raw, lifeless gasp of the thing that woke up to take in its big, slender hands what was rightfully its: that poor soul, which had never found a single day's peace, shrouded in the melancholy of that fateful encounter. 

Nothing could stop her soul from touching him, much less his emptiness from possessing her soul.

It was a perfect fit, an unspoken agreement between heaven and hell. God, all merciful, gave you up for the greater good. You were eternally linked. 

And your sisters, mother and father paid the price for coming between the two of you, for taking you away from your true home and your true master. They filled your days with their miserable little lives, with miserable knowledge, with miserable privations for such... miserable glory. 

— I have set you free, my beloved. I have loosened the nails that bound you to your cross. — Murmured the mother, with jubilant eyes, cheeks streaked with sweet tears. Your stern and beneficent mother. — My obsession is the key to this filthy, worthless prison. Come, darling, and enjoy with me all the pleasures you've been denied. Come quickly, my beloved, put an end to my loneliness.

His shadow has grown over you, outside in the courtyard.

— Spare them! I beg you! — Her voice roared over the tearful smiles of her sisters. Young Agnes wiggled her legs, looking at you with that untouched childish gaze, as if she were throwing herself into dense fluffy clouds and not into the abyss of death, into the blackness of darkness. — Spare them and I'll follow you without looking back. I will never desire anything other than your company, nor will I follow any other path than the one your feet once trod.

Your sisters' laughter exploded through the high ceiling, laden with a mockery that didn't belong to them.

Bewitched, they all looked down at you with equal dark amusement, their voices blending together like a spiral that drained the strength from your legs. 

— Don't you understand yet, my holy lamb? — Smiled sweet Agnes. — There's no bargaining. Whether they live or die, you will still be mine.Even in death, I will pull you back and chain you to me. I myself have suffered many years of being bound to the prison of my desires for you, waiting for you for countless years, feeling the weight of your rejection, cruel lover. 

— But you love me, don't you?

— Every part of me to every part of you, my sweetness. 

— So give me these gifts. Spare my beloved sisters, my fellow human beings, those sweet women with pure hearts who have guarded me long enough for you to come and take your rightful possession. They are not guilty, but guardians. — On your knees, you clasped your hands to your chest, begging the devil for mercy. — I know I wasn't good to you, I was insensitive to your call, but they are not to blame.You'll have all my devotion if you spare them, but if you kill them, even though you have my body and my spirit, you'll never have a drop of my attention. 

The silence of the souls hanging from the ceiling of the convent refectory echoed their inconsolable weeping.Thick tears and a plea so strong that it could make the souls turn over in their graves. 

The doors opened in a rush, letting the cold wind enter the dining hall. 

For the first time, under the ethereal light of the moon, as if in a macabre mixture of dream and nightmare intertwined by the thin veil of unconsciousness, you saw it.Not its aura or its agonized call, you saw the creature with your own eyes. 

You, who know so little about men, had never seen such a figure. 

So tall that you had to stoop to pass through the door that you would walk through without any difficulty.Eyes so deep that no light could reach them. A face hardened by the spectre of death, with a long nose and a thick moustache of a deep shade of black.He entered the sacred ground with equal parts ease and pain, each step a necessary torture to reach the object of his desire. The soul he so coveted in his millennial solitude, forgotten by the world, completely abandoned under the promise of a single soul that the heavens did not claim, a soul he could corrupt at will. 

Yours to devour, he thought at first, perhaps resentful that he was also chained to a lowly mortal, a wandering and very basic creature. Yours to torment, he thought, when you were very young and saw his shadow in your room for the first time. Yours to worship, he realized now, pulling her by her bare arms to stand up.

The creature, hungry for something, for some compensation for its endless loneliness, brought its face close to his and, with a touch of malice, stuck out its tongue, licking the length of his tears with its cold, inhuman breath. 

— I thought you'd wait for me in your habit, my beloved.I was particularly looking forward to it. — He lowered his cold, vile gaze, delving into the shape of your body beneath the nightgown with which you were forced to rest, a fabric so thin of light cotton that it hung down your body, revealing through the worn nature of the fabric the color of your stiff nipples against the fabric. He gasped with pleasure. — But what unparalleled pleasure it is to see you in such intimate attire, my eternal obsession. 

His hands, holding her face, were huge, with large, aged nails. Nails that would have dug into the earth to escape the grave. Their coldness was uncomfortable, but, given the horrors in your mind, you found yourself accepting their touch as a shred of comfort.

It destroyed your sanity, that it would at least give you the soothing balm of a caress.

— Please! — you sighed with a breath, a breath as anguished as it was tired. 

Your hands touched his, your eyes full of life and fear threatened his darkness with such a benevolent request, something the creature had never witnessed. 

Those like you, mortals, used to beg for mercy on your own life, on your knees and with the greatest promises of riches and pleasures.And here you were, a soul who would never reach heaven, asking for mercy for others when it was your fate that was at stake.

How he loved you! How he hated you!

— Treating it as my personal gift and demonstration of my esteem, these women live by my ability to have mercy on the requests of your heart. — He approached your warmth, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the salt of your feverish skin. All his vitality was more than banal desire, he was madly fissured by every cell of his anatomy, every rudimentary bit of his mortal Anatomy, and so doomed to the horrors of putrefaction. — My eternal living flame, how it tormented me not to be able to touch it. How it torments me right now to feel the softness of your skin. 

The creature's eyes mapped your face, his eyes so vivid and striking in color, the visage on your skin, the softness of his mouth as you breathed audibly, so bruised by fatigue that you didn't even budge when he wrapped you in his arms like a bruised little bird. Her soft sigh, nesting her head against his shoulder, was the fuel for him to release the women from their ropes, gently lowering them until their feet touched the ground.

— As long as you live, my ladies, be the witness of my triumph in having my sweet beloved in my arms for eternity.

He lowered his face in your direction, the ancient smell on his clothes made you scratch your nose. 

The texture of his mustache was thick. When his funeral lips touched yours, you tried to resist. Never before have you felt the pleasure of a passionate kiss or a love that took your breath away. But he knew what he'd been waiting for, holding you tightly by the back of your head, wrapping himself around you menacingly as his mustache scratched and skin immaculate from his face. His lips were hard, demanding and hungry.

His mouth ate you as his last hope, the last of pleasures and torments, a feast for a dying man.

The exchange, life and death, touching each other for the first time ignited an impulse in you. The impulse that matched his kiss, because that was the deal. You gave in, letting your lips submit to the kiss. Your body was surprised as you gasped with pleasure at corresponding with him, stimulated by the passion with which he held you. The human body is capable of many bargains to continue resisting.

And you, who had resisted for so long, gave in to that bittersweet feeling of surrender, feeling it take against your body.

Her body gradually sank into the feeling of being supported. As her dark lover's lips devoured hers, the world became a darker and darker place, the hiss of the wind seeping into her ears like spilled poison.  Between soft gasps, feeling the creature suck on his lips, unable to be completely satiated, his body gave in to the strain, falling into a powerful sleep. Realizing that you no longer corresponded with him, he walked away, looking at her with apprehension. His right hand, large and bony, rested on his chest. 

The beating of his heart was quiet, yet powerful. Each beat rumbling softly against the bones of his chest. 

Under the gaze of the bewitched nuns, he disappeared with the night, carrying with him the only one with whom he could share his eternal night.

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[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part One

Masterlist

Thank you all so much for the love and support for Part One, it is always so scary sharing brain children. You are all amazing.

Part Two

(Or, Alastor Proves he Makes a Shit Hotel Host by Bullying a Murder Victim)

By the time you opened your eyes, you had been moved to a bed, a comfy bed, in a warm lit room that was modestly decorated. And you were alone, thank god. Sitting up on the edge of the bed and kicking the sheets off as you straightened up. You stretched in a vain attempt to bring yourself some comfort, at least in body if not the mind. Doing this however, resulted in an immediate eye opening panic, because the sides of your arms brushing against either side of your head caught onto nothing.

Y’no, nothing. Nothing where ears should be. Looking around frantically, there was a cracked door heading into what was possibly a bathroom- please god, please be a bathroom. You body checked the frame as you ran in, muttering a whiny ‘ow’ before flicking a switch that turned on the overhead lights by the sink. Door open, lights on aaaand yep. Yep, yep yep. Ears missing. Hyperventilating now, you stumbled to the vanity and braced yourself on the ledge, staring into your own reflection as the panic began to set in.

Hell took your ears!? This was fucking ridiculous. Could one bitch to the devil? But also…how…how were you hearing? Because you definitely could hear. In fact you could hear better than before, like the wind outside rattling against something and a creak from the walls possibly 2 rooms over. Your brain might have been empty of explanation but your ears more than made up for it in what you heard. You leaned towards the mirror, turning your head back and forth trying to figure out what had happened to you. Then you felt it, a twitch, a little itch, at the very top of your head. Eyes drifted upwards to the pair of soft brown ears (?) That didn't quite point straight up, instead pointing more in a 45 degree angle. The left one was flicking of its own accord. The scream that left your mouth was instinctual, and loud.

Almost immediately you heard a knocking at the door and Charlie waltzed in, breathing hard, indicating the speed in which she came to your need. You spun around to meet her eyes, hands whipping to the very soft - so soft - ears utop your crown, breath shaking as you tried to get control over yourself.

“Ooohhh, yes, yes you’ve discovered your adorable new features! Thank goodness, I was so worried!” Charlie said, hands waving in front of her before clasping them together on her chest. “Everyone who comes to hell as a sinner takes on a delightful new appearance that reflects the way they lived and died! It’s a great way for you to meet new people and uh…learn to live a better life in spite of them! Many people take on animal appearances, my dad thinks it’s because every soul transcends the image of a human body.”

Still taking large breaths to keep yourself from screaming, your stuttering proof of your inability to form basic words, Charlie continued.

“Angel Dust is a spider, we think because he was involved in a ‘web of crime’ with his exciting mafia family - Husk…well okay Husk is interesting because I’m pretty sure cats in the overworld don’t have wings but he was a gambler before death so maybe he was just lucky to get wings too! You know, cards fell in his favour ha-haaa…” She trailed off awkwardly, face scrunching in a manner that you understood as her realising maybe she wasn’t explaining any part of this new discovery very well. She rubbed the back of her head with one hand, the other one placing itself on her hip. “Alastor is a deer demon, and it looks like you could be one too! I mean, you’ve got similar ears, although yours are much cuter because they are kind of floppy. And your nose is so cute! Like a baby doe! You’re pretty adorable honestly.”

You glanced at the mirror again, hands finally falling to your face to rest on your chin with your fingers covering your mouth lightly, spaced apart to allow your haggard breathing to come in and out. She was right, you did have a cute nose, it was similar to Charlie’s in appearance, and your ears did closely resemble the ears of a hooved forest animal. They reminded you of a mule deer's ears, the only deers you ever saw in Oregon (where your home was). Looking closer at yourself without the same level of panic your eyes moved back and forth rapidly taking in the new details of your person. Your skin all around was a sort of fawn colour, if fawn the colour could look dead. It was as if Bambi had died and his fur turned an ashier colour devoid of the warmth of active blood. That was you! Your ears were a dark blonde peppered with black, complimenting the soft blondish brown of your hair. Fingertips and nails were black, the black creeping up your arms before ending below the sleeve of your short sleeved pyjama top. You looked down and poked your foot out a bit to see if your lower limbs matched and hooray…they did.

In another world, maybe one where this was a costume, you would admit that you were cute out loud. However denial was still the leading emotion so you just slightly nodded at yourself before slowly turning around to face your gracious host once more.

“So. I’m a deer, so that’s a fun new fact…will I stay this way while I’m…here?” You winced at your admission of hell being your new place of residency.

“Yup!” Charlie replied in a chipper voice.

”And if I manage to get to heaven…will I change into something new?”

Charlie paused, the hand that was on her head had shifted to her chin, finger now tapping in pensive thought. “Hmm, I’m not sure? But from what my dad has said, humans who go up to heaven also take on forms that reflect their earthly life. Soooo you would probably stay a deer.”

”How would your dad know? Can we talk to the people in heaven?” This casual conversation was helping hasten the subsiding panic.

“Uh no. Heaven and Hell are pretty much separated all the time, except for the extermination BUT we’re working on that…My dad is Lucifer. Like the archangel!”

Your face was in obvious shock. Jaw dropped lightly and your hands came to your sternum, and you gaped at Charlie with wide eyes. “Lucifer? Like…the Devil? Satan himself?” What the actual fuck, why was your luck so cursed?

Charlie rocked back and forth on her heels, slightly grimacing from your comments before answering. “Yes, my dad is the Devil - but Satan is his own person, lots of people get them confused, much to dad’s chagrin. Lucifer Morningstar is my dad, the Devil, the King of Hell, fallen angel, and Satan is just the Lord of Wrath. It’s all very simple once you’ve been here a while.” Charlie had come to your side and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to walk you out of the bathroom. ”You should really join us downstairs for a proper tour, breakfast was over a while ago but we might be able to find some lunch in case you’re hungry.”

Your stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Was Hell just like Earth, but scarier? And redder? Would you need to get a job? Pay taxes? Oh good god, was Hell was just the worst part of living on monotonous repeat? Brutal. And certainly great punishment.

“We can work on getting you some more personal clothing later, but you are Vaggie look to be around the same size so she’s dropped off a few pieces just to get you in gear for redemption! I should probably go tell the others that you’re fine. I can’t wait for you to join us!” Charlie was so sickly sweet it was crazy to think she was the daughter of the Devil. She was too cheerful for a normal person, never mind a demon. She waved to you and said bye before closing the door as she exited.

Picking up the first couple of pieces in the donated pile, you dressed yourself in a shorter dress with a billowing skirt oh my god you have a tail ignore it ignore it ignore it and thicker grey socks that went all the way up to the middle of your thighs, covering up your black skin meeting up with the length of the dress. The dress was a softer white colour, not as bright as a crisp, new piece, this was a well loved item. No complaints, it was broken in and you were grateful for the gift. The only questionable features were the X’s that were placed directly over the nipples of the top. That was…quite the fashion statement. No time to be picky, something would be better than the pyjamas you died in. No shoes were provided so you simply walked out of the room into the hallway without.

The hallway appeared neverending from both sides, the detailed wallpaper and carpet going for visual miles. Which way was the right way? Good thing you were unconscious when you were brought up here, makes it much easier to retrace your steps. You were grateful for your giant new ears because it seemed like you could follow the sound of chatter down a hall.

Frowning, you let instinct take over and you went to the right. You were passing a door on your left and you felt the hair on your body begin to rise, a staticky sensation passing over your skin. It was a similar feeling to when you would take a giant fleece blanket out of the dryer when it was still warm. You shuddered and made an audible noise of discomfort. Thankfully it appeared that you chose the right path however, since you found yourself at a set of stairs that appeared to curve to the lower floor. You could hear the chatter clearer- “She screamed at the mirror? She’s adorable! She coulda been a worm or a giant slug or-” You shook your head, attempting to ignore the conversation you were accidentally eavesdropping on. A click was heard behind you and you whipped around to face the creature that resulted in your uncomfortable welcome to the hotel in the first place.

Alastor.

Now that he wasn’t talking and simply staring at you, analysing your being, you could really take in his face. Large, red eyes with a frightening depth to them were framed by darker red skin on his lids, his nose somehow sharp but similar to your own, his was more nose-like however. His smile was the worst part though. You were unsure of what could possibly make him smile so wide. His teeth were very large, and clean despite their colour. Strange for a person framed after a prey animal to have such sharp teeth, and you instinctively ran your tongue over your own behind your lips to discover sharper canines only, nothing comparable to the man in front of you.

In the silence his eyes narrowed and focused on you, making his face far more intimidating. Again, an unintentional shiver ran down your back and you shuddered under his gaze. You were a startled deer, caught in his frightening gaze. You were so unsure and uncomfortable with the situation that you had completely missed that he said something to you. You closed your eyes and shook your head to get out of your thoughts.

”Pardon? I’m sorry, I missed what you said there.” You admitted with crossed fingers that he would accept the apology.

”Yes, clearly. I merely asked you if you slept well! You took quite a nasty fall to the floor! Generally people know my history before I can make them faint from fear so I will accept the compliment. It appears as if my sabbatical has had very little effect on my presence.” He bowed slightly in a polite manner, arm crossing over his stomach as he did so, the other arm holding a microphone that was promptly used as a cane once he came up from his polite gesture. You had done a small curtsy in return, awkwardly grabbing the side of the small skirt to fulfil the action. He appeared to nod in acknowledgment, hopefully appreciating the polite return.

Your arms dropped back to your side as you processed what the man had said. Things were only going to continue to confuse you. This was all a nightmare, honestly.

“Now, on to a more serious matter,” He snapped his fingers, and the both of you were in a different room. Two chairs to your left were angled around a small table, the little radio featured on top of it. God damn it that fucking thing again. Farther behind one of the chairs however, the room opened into a bayou swamp environment - dark, marshy and foggy, the eerie sounds coming from it promised danger of an unknown kind. What kind of place was this? You could feel your ears flick from the ambient sounds coming from the strange forest as Alastor continued his interrogation. Walking to the antique, he asked “What were you doing with my radio, my dear?” Gesturing with his free hand to the little machine.

You essentially vomited out the story behind it, where you found it, why you were there, the reason you took it home with you. He listened intently, glancing at it once you finished your very brief history with the item. It truly wasn't a scandalous thing that you pilfered from some ritzy location, you salvaged it from a hoarder's house after it was put there by a woman with an obsession with Antiques Roadshow.

“If it is yours, why did it come here with me? Charlie said that possessions don’t follow souls into hell, but this did?” You inquired, hoping perhaps he held the answer.

Alastor became pensive “Hmmm. It is quite peculiar that it came with you. What were you doing with it? Please do not miss a single detail my dear, I am curious about our situation.

You frowned. What else other than grabbing the cord as you fell back? You listed out your actions on your fingers, reciting out loud the steps you took before your death. When you landed on the finger you paired with ‘took the back panel off-‘ he shouted a sharp ha-Hah! Confused and with a frown you continued, ending with cutting your hand on it before putting everything back together and heading to bed. Well, then dying. The actual ending.

“Are you sure that was all you did? Do not leave a single detail out, or you might regret it.” A sound attune with a record scratch sound from nowhere as you stared at the demon. Took radio home, took radio apart, bled on the radio, cleaned blood off the radio - your eyes went wide. And you silently checked off a step you missed in your story. You had cleaned blood off the symbols in the radio, the ones that looked like they themselves had been written in blood. Alastors gaze sharpened at your realisation.

“On the panel, inside the radio…” You started, “There were these symbols inside of it, I didn’t really get a good look at them before cutting my hand open,” You absentmindedly looked at your palm only to see a bright white scar where the long cut once was. Already? A Scar in hell? Alastor had stalked towards you and grabbed your hand to look at it. The air around the two of you was suffocating. It was difficult to think straight with him in front of you. And you were suddenly hyper aware of yourself, and him. Holding your hand was almost too much to handle and you tried to pull it back only for him to grip harder, nails pressing into your hand painfully. He raised his other hand palm up and held it beside yours. A matching scar was present. He frowned, though his smile was still prominent.

Dropping your hand he returned to the radio and black shadow tendrils rose from the floor and grabbed it, taking pieces off and placing the back panel of it in his hands. In silence he looked at the mess before entering into a low laugh, one that increased with each breath before he was near hysteria. His figure increased in size, antlers growing in size from his head, limbs lengthening - he swung his head to face yours as his figure started to loom over yours.

“Well my dear, we seem to have a problem” he said in a strange, distorted voice, his figure still looming. “You have compromised some old runes within my radio…it could possibly explain how you ended up here, with us, looking as you do.” Halfway through his terrifying statement he had returned to his ‘normal’ form and fluffed out the lapel of his coat as he did so. Eyes returning to yours the room became darker, and green symbols similar to the ones in the radio appeared on the floor, some appearing to raise up and float around the two of you.

“You will not mention any part of this radio or what you know of it, including where it was found or how you came into possession with it. You will not let others know of how your scar came on your person, and you certainly will not mention any of the runes you saw.” He wasn’t making a request, he was clearly demanding it. It felt as if wind was billowing his hair and coat as his eyes took on a much brighter look. ”If you do, I promise you will regret having ever come here and I will devour your soul only after a long and painful torture, am I clear?” You nodded in acknowledgement, knowing that the only reason you had not thrown up yet was the complete lack of food in your system, though the bile was resting at the back of your throat from fear.

He raised his hand to yours in a handshake motion, beckoning you with the outreached hand to join yours with his. You grabbed his hand with your own, both scars meeting in the middle, and they began to glow before he said only one word - “Deal?”

Well really, was there any other option? You nodded before he tsk-tsked your action, “I need vocal consent my dear, it is required.” The last word turning dark with static.

“Deal.” You barked out, and as soon as you responded, the room reverted back to its original state immediately. Alastor took his hand back and wiped it on the opposite sleeve. ”Excellent. You may leave now, the stairs will direct you right into the lobby. Please tell Ms. Morningstar that my afternoon has changed and I am unable to join her.” The door swung open on its own accord and black tangible tendrils of shadow had all but shoved you across the room and out the door before slamming the door shut so hard you swore the wood splintered slightly.

You paused to catch your breath, staring at the door, which you now knew led to Alastors Room. On the other side you could tell he must have been pacing back and forth, his heels clacking on the hard floors as he did so. Soon after however, it sounded as if a wild animal was throwing furniture and ripping fabric, loud screaming as it did so. Not about to stick around, you sprinted to the stairs and nearly slipped from the lack of shoes trying to place distance between you and the Demon upstairs. You kept up the pace on the main floor until you ran past an open door and caught sight of Charlie sitting on a sofa. You entered the room, out of breath and slightly sweaty from the encounter upstairs. She waved excitedly before patting the open seat beside her for you to sit as she held up an apple in her other hand. You sat, accepted the apple and took a bite before looking at the Television and promptly choking as you watched a news anchor discuss something called an ‘Extermination’, didn’t Charlie mention that upstairs?

Thankfully, once things had settled down in your head, you found yourself swept up in trust exercises, oh goody. Thankfully this spiralled into chaos and you were glad everyone had simply accepted your presence without hesitation, there were far more exciting things happening. It was especially comforting that Alastor would be keeping his promise and leaving on an outing for the day.

****

I will add here, this will be a semi-slow burn. Alastor is aroace pre-reader, but with time things change. Time, magic, and forced proximity.

[ilikesillythings]

Idk how to start a request sorry 😞

Could you please write about Sir Pentious just being a lovesick yandere??

Like he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling but he needs to always be next to reader and touching them (hands on their waist, tail around them, head resting on them) and he’ll beg to cuddle with them, completely wrapped around them with his egg bois resting on him and his love. And showing off to them, trying to show he’s a capable lover that will take care of them .

I hope I’m understandable !! Is there anything I should add? That’s my first request :,)

I love Pentious "My sssweetheart"

Sir Pentious x reader Fluff TWs; yandere themese HC-ish format

Pentious never considered himself much of a 'romantic' per-say, but boy did you do things to him

His mind doesn't automatically register he might have.. feelings for you, just assumes you're just special.

Greatly confused at himself when he begins to grow jealous of everyone close to you.

ALWAYS showing off for you. Always.

Loves how you never mention how slimy he is

When you're helping Niffty clean up he'll walk up behind you and hug you, laughing when you jolt in surprise

Bonus points when the Egg Bois like you

If anyone bothers you, he wont kill them, no, no-- he wouldn't want to taint someone as pure as you with bloodied hands!

Instead he'd leave them on near death,

"Remember, scum," Pentious hissed at the demon at the end of his tail, who was heaving in vain, eyes wide with terror, "should you ever hurt my friend, {Y/N}, I will have to do much worse than this." With every word spoken, Pentious dug a stick into the demons hand, and twisted it around in the wound, ignoring the screams of pain from the demon, "You live because they wills it."

He will never tell you about what he does for you

When you're sick he'll bring you soup and advil

Oh, you noticed a bit of blood on you? Prepare to be gaslit.

Eventually he'll realize he loves you, he cranks up the affection as much as he can, constantly draping himself over you

Your hand is never cold, as his hand is always holding it

No matter what, his tail is coiled around your ankle, and will tighten it's hold when he gets jealous

[regular-gnome]

Absolutely /adore/ your art and overall take on the Demon Realm world + it's history and the Archivists. Especially coming from someone who adores speculative biology and trying to find logic/science in magic (I'm not sure how to word it so it makes sense - basically almost everything you are doing here)

Curious if you have any ideas on how the titans managed to inhabit the planet, because Papa Titan's hand managed to reach the atmosphere just from lying down. There's no way that planet was big enough for a bunch of titans to walk around comfortably.

Idk much about planetary stuff, but is there some way the planet may have changed? Maybe the Archivists did something?

Sorry this ask got kinda long, hope you have a lovely day doing little gnome things :}

glad you like them!:D

So, one of the gnome things is overanalyzing things and avoiding doing math, but here we are, you actually made me read my biophysics notes from 4 years ago. There are a few things to really focus on and think about, but I gotta preface this by saying I am very much not an expert on speculative biology xD I just have the internet and some books I am basing my theories on

Titans:

First the titans themselves. A while ago, I made an approximation of how large the Boiling Isles titan is and got that it would be around 27 km in height post-mortem. Buuut if the titan was this height during its life is another question because it would run into some biophysics issues

Issues like the atmospheric pressure. At ground level, it is 101.3 kPa, but at 27 km, it falls is 1.6 hPa (titan bless wolframalpha for counting this as exp funtions are the death of me). That is 63 times higher pressure on their legs than on their head! Blood circulation would be shot to the moon. The blood is liquid that in general transports gasses so travelling fron upper body parts to lower ones where there is diffrent dissoving of oxygen would end up in gas bubbles, which are NOT GREAT. Additionally, their ability to stand up or lie down quickly would be pretty much non-existant as that would be super fast change of pressure and more bubbles. But okay, lets say they are like some kind of abyss fishes and keep constant internal pressure.. that would still mean their hearts would need to be either massive or they would have multiple pumping mechanisms to handle their size (maybe like the single-chamber hearts in fish??) And the thing is we saw their heart, it was big but not THAT big so unless it was just one of many, maybe the last beating heart there might be diffrent explanation. And Im not gonna even go into how temperature changes every 100m around 0,6C, lets say their fur makes them warm and cozy and blue blood avoids freezing problems like some arctic critters

bringing those graphs up again cause they show the altitude change nicely

All of this to say the titans during life were probably smaller. They would still have been massive, but maybe not three times the size of mt Everest massive. So next thing to consider is their magic. Their powers are closely tied to life, healing and creation and so, the demons on the Boiling Isles are said to have originated from it and their evolution waas likely sped up a lot thanks to it. Next we saw size-changing spells affecting King in the carnival episode, so it's not a stretch to believe that all titans could be affected by this kind of spells, with the strength depending on the particular titan's magic. So anyway as the titan was activly dying, its magic could have desperately attempted to save it by rapidly generating more cells to repair its failing systems, ending up in expansion of all tissues and their overall size. (Maybe thats why the vains were so big and empty in the mines, you cant create more energy so maybe the magic going with simmilar concept expanded everything around but not made more of blood?) However, despite these efforts, the magic would ultimately fail to save them. When it reached a critical point, maybe after using up most of its magical energy, the process would stop or change focus. There are some fun grusome possiblities on how that might have went down but this is already pretty long

So in short, I think the titans during life were big but only got island sized after death, otherwise theyd have some wild biological mechanisms battling physics and them becomming bigger would explain where did most of the blood go after death. Not to mention how much food they would need

Planet:

Next the size of the planet. While we don't have many clues to determine whether it's bigger or smaller than Earth, one clue is Luz's lack of reaction to changing gravity after passing through the door. If the planet were larger (or denser I know), she would feel change in g-force, so like the feeling of being on a lift going up in case of bigger planet or down in case of smaller. If the diffrence was significant she would develop issues with circulatory system and fatigue. But thats not the case and I do not have the energy to calculate min change xD

So let's say the planet is Earth-sized. This is still a lot. We don't know if there are any continents on the planet or their sizes, but even if there were same like earth, the scale is immense. If the Boiling Isles were the size of New York (based on titan's height) or even larger, say the size of Hawaii, compared to the world map, that's tiny. If Earh is 510 100 000 km², while NYC covers 1213,3 km² to cover the same area, we'd need 420423 titans lied up neatly next to each other. And thats if they are isles sized their whole life. There can also be landmasses where they can lay on, oceans deep enough to cover bodies, they can be stacked.... I don't think the planet necessarily needs to be much larger to accommodate creatures of this size

TOH as a show:

One thing to remember while analyzing shots from the show is that we we will run into contradictions because it's a show, one that is not focused on speculative biology. While most elements are well-constructed, some details may show inconsistencies. For example, determining the direction of north on a titan becomes challenging when one shot shows the sun setting in one direction and later another. Finding the titan's height poses difficulties when one shot shows their arm reaching the atmosphere while another barely shows them reaching it while standing. But its not due to carelessness, its more about serving purpose of the shot, conveying the atmosphere. They both show the titans are giant, the view from above is beautiful and if they were more focused on keeping them some arbitrery size it might have taken away from it

And Im pretty sure that I'm wrong around a lot of aspects here, how it wasnt supposed to be interpreted like that or its more convoluted than I realize. Thats just my take on this. World we live in can seem small as we can only see a tiny part of it but Earth is so amazingly vast. It's larger than we can comprehend, and yet, it's nothing compared to the vastness of the universe. So, yeah, some of my thoughts on titans and the demon realms planet xD peace

[alexxncl]

‼️NIGHTBRINGER LESSON 46 SPOILERS‼️

masterlist | all lessons | season 3 | lesson 45.1 | lesson 45.2 | lesson 47

i'll probaboy be moving my baby sister into college when this queues up 🥲 sob sob

slight lesson 76 spoilers

we love to see more of a lighthearted lesson

ah yes, siblings 🫶🏽 levi is me, i am levi

i also love the fact that luci, mams, levi, and simeon are all working together to help mammon

it's clear how much they all adore him even if they're shitheads sometimes (read: most of the time)

anyone else having war flashbacks to cocytus? no? just me? kay.

see now they're just making up words bc what are we talking about 😭 also love how they didn't bother to make a 2D CG picture for it bc it's never gonna be mentioned in another lesson after this point

...i'd have to kms

imagine every step you take leads to a blood curdling scream...everybody's dying idc

"dear, sweet henry 1.0" my ASS

homeboy didn't even remember you when y'all were trapped in that made and had to get charmed by asmo 😭

...unless that was his way of telling levi to make new friends, just like the way he left levi in the anime bc levi had no friends outside of henry

but i also wanna see the full extent of mammon's power 🧍🏾 the devs need to stop giving us cut scenes every time my man steps up to fight a monster

that's hilarious actually

imagine some lower level demon actually ended up getting eaten bc they couldn't beat the monsters and the "research" was all in vain

leave it to me to read too far into things 🤞🏽

example x of mammon being lucifer's favorite and most trusted brother

regardless of how dumb mammon thinks a task is, he'll do his best to get it done as perfectly as possible if it means keeping up a good image for lucifer or making lucifer happy. lucifer knows this despite rarely, if ever, admitting it to himself, mammon, or anyone else, and that's why he trusts mammon with serious shit when the situation calls for it

granted, the speech mammon is giving probably wasn't orchestrated by lucifer, but the way it goes still reflects on him and diavolo, and mammon knows better than to make his big brother and the future demon king look bad in front of who knows how many people

MAMMON SIMPS HOW WE FEELING????

they absolutely would've fucked backstage if he wasn't up next for his speech /srs

they fucked in the back of class and they'd do it again BOP BOP

also mammon's speech being "get off your lazy asses and go touch grass" was easily the best idol about this lesson. 10/10 writing

about the first screenshot, why is nobody in-game verbally commenting on simeon wearing his angelic clothes ??? didn't he stop wearing them as soon as he fell from grace in the og timeline ?????

or maybe this is a result of too many time soup shenanigans. maybe his body can't tell if he's human or still an angel

but it's clear that everyone's noticed something's off with simeon even if they haven't said anything to him verbally, which is why luke was so hellbent on mc asking simeon if he was okay. but nobody's outright saying anything bc this mf will deny any and every concern thrown at him with a smile on his face. he won't even tell mc what's going on, so lucifer had to step in

ending the hard bonus chapter like this was VILE but in the best way possible

[fallecupid]

"how could i love you?"

.ᐟ.ᐟ warnings :ㅤ angst!dean.ㅤvampire!reader.ㅤgn!reader.ㅤㅤㅤword count: 6k

( author's note : i apologize in advance for errors in this text / vague wording / words that are incorrect in meaning ( if any are present in the content. ) english is not my native language, everything written below has been translated by a translator. )

The heavy clanking of chains and the dampness of the basement hit you like cold water in the morning. Confusedly trying to get some focus of events, you shook your head, almost instantly calling out an irritated lurch somewhere behind you. The gears were slowly banging one against one in your brain, not ready to acknowledge the worst of it. Though it was clear in the back of your mind that it was Dean. You could have sworn you were about to meet his disappointed gaze, or worse, a silver bullet to the forehead.

The man grabbed your chin sharply, not even trying to control the force with which he squeezed the soft skin that once held you so sweetly against him. "Don't look away, the least you can do is look at me." Dean leaned in slightly, gritting his teeth almost to the point of grinding. "After all the shit you pulled on me. How long did you think you'd be a doormat?" He cut himself short, pulling away and crossing his arms over his chest as a low rumble came from you.

The noise intensified behind you, and within minutes Dean Winchester was standing in front of you. His green eyes darkened, like he saw some bastard he should take his life, but damn it was ironic. You pressed your lips together, unable to even look at him.

A tiny signal of how much pain he was holding you in. To his inner turmoil, Winchester let go, he would blame himself again and again later, but not now. "Just let me explain..." Your parched lips cracked as you tried in vain to moisten them with saliva. Winchester, squinted his eyes, unable to hide the way his inner demons were eating away at him.

He couldn't get his mind around how disgusting you were. The little snake he held close, the bloodsucker in the same bed as him. It was utter nonsense, but it was true. And the worst part was that he loved you, even now, through the prism of hatred, he loved you.

The man paced the damp floor, which creaked treacherously beneath him, sagging wetly. "Try explaining." The chilling tone cut into you like a knife to the heart, but with the stipulation that it had been spun a few times. Under that invisible vise, the only thing you could do was stare meekly at the floor, swaggering your words.

"I wanted to say earlier...But i was enjoying the moment too much, you know? All your love, your affection, your smile, those damn teases.... Everything was available to me, like I'd won the damn lottery." You didn't dare look at him, just squirmed.

Dean stopped, looking at you, pursing his lips. A weak excuse, you knew full well he was smashing heads with the likes of you every damn day, yet you still lived off of fortune. Either you were a goddamn lunatic or crazy in love. He almost suppressed a smirk, running those words through his head.

But the moment of weakness didn't last long, he would remember again the moments where you almost got caught. The perpetual night walks, the drops of blood caked on your clothes, the odd behavior, after all. But Dean was just a brainless puppy in love for turning a blind eye so easily. Now all he wanted to do was bang his head against the wall a few times to beat the crap out of himself and the idea that you deserved forgiveness.

Still circling beside you, he hissed in your ear, warm breath stated with dry speech. "That's a weak excuse. If you'd lost control and gnawed on a neighborhood, right? A city? You're dangerous as hell." The man touched your neck, nuzzling it in a light touch, averting his gaze. Now the gears were already working in his brain. It was as if some contradiction was showing its ugly head every time he spat those caustic words at you, every time he wanted to take your head off. God damn him.

Still clutching your neck, his eyes followed yours, those damn eyes full of fear and despair, those damn eyes in which he was drowning and still is. Those lips, now pressed almost to white, used to kiss him supplely. Your hair, the familiar tuft of hair that rippled against his skin. And it was now that it overwhelmed him, as if he were looking through an old family album.

But that's the thing about scrapbooks, they hold those memories that can only be remembered, not realized. You're a monster, you killed innocent people, manipulated them. Torn in a cycle of doubt, he didn't notice how damn hard he squeezed your throat, of course it wouldn't kill you, but noticeable discomfort it might bring.

"Shit shit shit shit, I-" As if coming out of a trance, he recoiled, looking at your face, you almost on the verge of tears. The irony was eerily funny, because he too felt a lump somewhere in the middle of his throat.

"Just tell me, what the hell? Why are you torturing me?" He pressed his lips together, running his fingers through his hair. "You know damn well I can't kill you, but you look at me like I'm the ultimate evil of all." Muttering quietly, Dean took a few deep breaths, looking at you slightly blurred.

Shit. He can't just take your life, not after you pulled him out of a shit hole, not after you helped him rebuild Sammy, not after you gave him a goddamn house. He found a piece of himself. He'd already lost one, his father, and he wasn't ready to lose one by his own stupid oversight.

In fact, you'll handle everything together, won't you? Dean knelt down in front of you, his hands convulsively squeezing your cheeks, on which tears had long since flowed. The man pressed his forehead against yours, his voice shaking like he was in forty-degree cold. "I'm sorry, i'm sorry i'm a fool." He looked at you. "No, you're not.... Anyone in your shoes would have done the same." You muttered, meeting his gaze.

"I'm in my place right now and i'm being an idiot for letting myself love you." Bitter longing mixed with the heaviness of his voice as calloused fingers drew faint circles on your cheeks. "Hey... don't cry." Winchester leaned toward you, absorbing the regret in your eyes.

"That's right, you're a complete idiot for not shooting me in the head." Trembling, your hand tentatively reaches for his hair, groping the area. But here you are: he suppliantly reaches for you, unable to look at you anymore. It's as if all his hateful feeling has been washed away by the speech water, as if you were never a blood-singing brat and he never dreamed of killing you.

It's like everything's back to normal. He's beside you, you're stroking his hair, and he's tucking his lips into your shoulder. It's all so familiar, so warm. So much so that it could have been a happy dream, but no. We're in a harsh reality where every parasite will get to every innocent.

Just by that, you receive a crushing blow to the heart, his revolver filled with silver bullets poking into your soft chest. He doesn't even try to hold back the tears that are traitorously pouring out of him, the only thing he can do is scream as he stares at your now breathless body. Dean could have sworn there was a phrase frozen on your lips that cut his heart worse than any knife. "I love you."

Winchester's always been a hunter. No matter how long he pretends this doesn't concern him, he can't just leave it alone. Even if he's ready to shoot himself now, even if he feels himself shattering into a million pieces right now, he's still a hunter. And you, you're the vampire, the one he's hunting.

[cybsoo2]

the couple on train 201

╰┈➤ synopsis — Two lovers so wrapped up in each other's embrace, blind to the distorted love obsession that grows darker with every crimson caress. 

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!j-hope x yandere!reader

╰┈➤ word count — 450+

╰┈➤ content warning — ummm murder, obsessive behavior, manipulative behavior, its pretty vague

Twisted lovers, entangled in each other’s embrace. 

Breathe in my cold breath then let me have yours. 

Cold hearts match cold minds but a fire is held firm between them. Soft digits press against smooth skin, tender care taken with each touch. So fragile, people would wonder if they were made of glass. The two soft soulmates sit side by side, thighs close and hands held halfway.

The girl, hazel hair with doe eyes, finds beauty in the passing foreground while the other finds beauty in her. The scenery is bleeding, greens turn to gray as time passes by. The sodden sky sets snowflakes adrift as the December air takes its home. The world seems so peaceful today. Daydreams set her mind ablaze as she longs for this day to continue on as rosy and hopeful as her Hobi.

Kiss my lips day or night, full of rushing blood or spilling from the faucet. 

The boy, mousy hair and dimples when he smiles, searches the train in nervous ambition. The train speeds fast down the tracks, the dizzying movements cause vertigo to set in. Eyes guided to a steady point, his soul lazily drags his focus to the pinky, pale hands which hold his. Oh Hobi, sweet Hobi, with apple cheeks all red and ripe, heart too sick to carry the heavy burden of morality.

My Darling, sweet solace, I am yours in every universe.

Two kids found spellbound by each other trust too greatly in the judgment of one another. Infatuation clouds judgment and betrayal from an envious slut fuels blinding fits of fury. Hobi’s left helplessness at the sight of his lover sobbing, sickly sorrows on their shared bed. Hands reached out barely an inch before Hobi engulfed them in his strong arms. He willed every god and demon to let the warmth from his bones bleed into his pretty little love. And when she begged for relief with miserable eyes and pleas of “Help me Hobi, show me how much you love me,” well, how could he say no. 

I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than the crimson kisses I placed on your cheeks in death's wake. 

Love-struck maniacs woke up death on an evening so elegant. It would have been selfish to not share the sight. The train's doors open with such hesitance, doubting if such a young soul should be let out to fight off the cold alone. 

How much madness would you face to see me smile from your atrocities?

The couple on train 201, bound by imperfect impurity painted vain vermilion across the train tracks. A picture perfect Jane Doe she was, how unimportant and tainted her existence had become.  A sadistic girlfriend and her corrupt boyfriend follow each other's footsteps in the snow. Teetering and playing seesaw over the edge of insanity and obsession. Bloodstained hands grasped together forever while crimson kisses grow darker with each caress. 

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved ‎

[tai-janai]

Reunite

Path 10: Validation

(Chapter Select)

Your head stings, even before your eyes open.

Voice of the Hero:

Sorry. I've been reaching more and more ends, quite a few have been making pairs.

"Then why does my head hurt?"

Voice of the Hero:

I mean, I'm in here. I'm kind of dying in all those worlds. It doesn't feel too great. Thought you'd be a little excited about all this.

You rub your forehead. You sigh dejectedly, then try to remember all the good you're doing.

"I am... I am. This is good, I'm happy for them."

Voice of the Hero:

And this is the last one, isn't it? Nobody else is after this.

You open your eyes to a rather reflective room. Everything is metal. It doesn't attack your eyes quite as much as the other shiny one, but it's a whole lot less welcoming. Even what you stand on seems like slabs of steel. A tilted table to the side holds the echo of the blade, blending in even more than usual.

You can tell this is the final imprisoned Being. You hope in vain that it won't be the hardest. You think about the large one with the eyes and chains. That one sucked. The stone one, the melting one, the first, nervy one.

But, you changed them. The outcome was different once you stepped in. It may be unfair on both ends, but you're working to even things out.

You feel everyone's support with you as you grab the blade's echo. As its weightlessness shifts in your grasp, you wonder if it is the last time.

You walk to the askew metal door. You are stopped before you grab the handle.

Voice of the Hero:

Hey.

Its tone is tender, and it soothes your growing worry.

Voice of the Hero:

I... I'm really proud of you. And even if - or when - this guy tears me out of your head, I'm always with you.

"And I'm glad you're there."

A happy glow warms your body as you and the Voice share a moment of serenity.

You take a deep, sure breath, and open the door.

The way down is decidedly not stairs. It seems to once have been a metal ramp, but had something carve down the middle of it. You try your best to take it slow, but everything is smooth, and any footholds are pointed and sharp. Everything smells like fire and metal.

You make it to the bottom, and you see the steely room. Right in the center of it, with the chain around its "neck," stands a bright, rangy Being.

Sharp, blood-red eyes stare at you. A pointed-toothed mouth is turned downward in a scowl. A heart beats behind a set of translucent ribs. Everything else is... a substance you can't quite understand.

Something between glass and metal, every part of it that was once skin is a jagged edge of a reflective, razor-sharp material. It looks like something that had been broken repeatedly, but continues to crash back together. Parts of this "skin" float around it in an orbit. Its fingers are very long and tapered, sharp like everything else, and stained with what you assume is blood. Beneath the beating heart is its legs, which seem joined at a single point on the ground, like it's balancing there at a pinpoint. Its head once had horns, but it is only shattered metal-glass.

Back for more?

Its voice is grating. Do you even want to fight this thing?

"More?"

It flashes its blade-like fingers and squints at you.

I had some issues with our first encounter. I'm glad you've come back so I can do it right this time.

"We've never met before, I don't want to fight."

Bloody liar.

With a disgusting screech of metal, it drags towards you, swiping with its claws. The noise is hell on your eardrums, but you dive out of the way just in time. Unfortunately, the floor is more jagged metal, and you cut your knee.

Voice of the Hero:

Shit, that was awful! Why's this one so angry??

With a crackle of bending metal, you turn and see the Being growing enraged.

Two against one!? You little demon, I'll tear you to goddamn atoms!

It extends a palm at you, and you feel the sense of something gripping you, holding you in place. You lock eyes with the Being as you are squeezed.

Voice of the Hero:

No, no! Stop- Agh!

With a sudden jerk, the constricting feeling falls, and you and the Other drop to the floor, separated once again. You hear a wicked laugh from the creature.

I'm the one in charge now, aren't I? I can finally get you back for all the bullshit you put me through.

You feel yourself convulsing, everything in you twitches and creaks. The Other at your side groans.

You grit your teeth, and your vision swims with rage.

You grab the echo once again. It had fallen when you were split. You can barely tell you have it in your grasp.

Though you ache, you rise to your feet, eyes fixated on the large creature.

"You think you're in charge? With that chain around your neck? Your heart is exposed, it wouldn't take much to get to it."

The Hero:

What?

In your mind echoes the same thought: What???

With a scraping growl, the Being charges again, swiping at you. You dodge one attack, but don't expect the second.

A shard of the metallic glass cuts into your arm.

Its the first time you've bled. Ever, even.

The Hero:

Stop! He didn't put you down here!

It slices at you again, and you deflect it with the, thankfully physical, echo.

What in the world are you on about?

It continues to clash blades with you and leave minuscule cuts along your limbs as it converses with the Other.

With a scrape, it leans away, and you catch your breath. What is this? You're fighting?

He put me here, and now he's trying to kill me. I'm just defending myself.

The Hero:

You are made of blades!!!???

Is the fight unfair? Does he have as much strength as he says?

What about your own?

You look at the echo you hold. It is nonexistent. What is deflecting the Being's attacks?

No, that's not right. It's there.

The Being lunges again, and you move beyond your own volition. You strike at its side, leaving a crack in its translucent ribs. The creature groans, a sickening sound of twisting metal.

You don't feel control over your own body. Do you have a choice? Why are you fighting?

"I want to free you."

The Being swipes at you, and you only barely evade its reach. It growls.

You're attacking me. Why won't you both just shut up!

It leans back and waves to the Other.

Better yet, why don't you try an' help me here? He wanted to lock you up too, just like he did to me!

The Hero:

I swear, he wasn't! I would know, I was in his head!

I'm sick of the lying!

With a swing of its arm, shards of its body go flying towards the other.

You shout in fear, but thankfully, it was only a warning, and the shards stick into the floor only a foot away from the Other's feet. He seems terrified, but okay.

You face the Being again. It is horrid. It has almost hurt the other part of you. You hate it.

You step forward.

This is what it's supposed to be, isn't it? You see the rage in its eyes. You want to plant your knife into its beating heart-

"NO!"

You fling the echo at the far wall, and the clang reverberates along the metal floor. The Being has flinched away from you.

You don't want to fight it, you want to save it.

Where are these conflicting thoughts coming from?

What's all this? You've given up? That's not a win!?

"I do want to free you. I do."

The Hero:

He isn't usually like this...

I don't care about being free, I want to win!

You see blades flash above you, and then they cut through you.

Not all the way, just across your front, leaving three large, disconnected streaks of red across your entire body. You don't feel it at first, the adrenaline numbing your body, but everything starts to sting.

Even if it isn't the worst, it is the most physical pain you've experienced. It is strange.

You fall to the floor, only barely able to catch yourself on wounded arms. Blood flows from everywhere. It is... so red.

Wh... Why are you so much weaker than you had been? What the hell is this?

You look at your bloody hands. It seeps through the indents of your scales. The fluid trails down your arm in lightning-shaped streaks. It hurts to bleed.

Your gaze turns up towards the creature, who scowls at you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't put you here."

Bullshit!

It screeches at you, but doesn't attack.

What is with this personality shift?? Get back up, if I'm gonna win, it's gonna be on my terms. You can't just throw in the towel once things aren't in your favor!

"You're right. But I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... attack you."

And what the hell does that mean?

You see its heart, bright crimson and pounding in its chest. Everything about the being is so dangerous, but its vital organ seems the least protected. You want to tear into it. But you want to hold it, and keep it safe.

The creature wants a fight, you have to give it to him.

No, you don't.

Your mind floods with the experiences from all of the other imprisoned Beings. You feel pulled along by a string, trying to force you to stand, but you kneel.

"Y-You must be in pain. After being trapped here so long, alone."

No shit it hurt! Get back up so I can cause you the same pain!

Your wounds bleed, but they don't hurt. You don't think that's what the Being is going for anyway.

The Hero:

Please, stop. Let us let you out of here.

Leave? Now that I've got power? Now that I... I can win!?

You combat the incessant thoughts. This creature has done nothing wrong.

With a shing of blades, razor-sharp fingers lift you by your armpits from your place on the floor. The sharpness cuts into you just enough to get a grip on you.

The win means nothing if you're not- If you aren't what I remember!

With bated breaths, you look into the creature's eyes. It is... quite a bit bigger than you. You see your blood trailing down its metallic arm.

You love this creature. You hate it. You want it dead. You want it safe. It hisses at you.

The moment I have power, you are limp and weak.

You are suddenly released, and you drop to the ground inelegantly. Your knees buckle and your head hits the metal. Its voice lowers, and starts to shake.

The moment I have anything, I...

With a heavy head, you lift yourself to look at it. It stares at its stained, sharp hands in horror.

You slowly bring yourself to your feet. Its pupils focus on you, and then follow the curved gashes across your body.

"I know you are angry. Your anger is justified. You deserve to kill me many times over."

Metal creaks as the Being closes in on itself.

Would that be enough? Would it ever mean anything?

"That's up to you."

Harsh scrapes bombard your eardrums as pieces of metal flare and swish through the air.

Are you what put me here? Why did I turn into this?

You step closer to it. Your steps are unsteady as your blood lubricates the smooth metal floor.

"I didn't put you here. I didn't make you this way."

With determination, you grab the creature's sharp, elongated fingers. You can feel their edge, but they do not cut into your flesh.

"We can change things. The pain can end. You can be free."

You can hear every thump of its heart, like a hammer to an anvil, concealed behind its veil of a ribcage. It speaks breathily. It sounds like it is far away.

I'm tired of waiting. I just want things to get better.

Pieces of it fall to the floor, clashing and shattering. You do not flinch at the jarring noise.

Why is everything different..?

The Being is weak. You are disgusted by it. You love it. You are afraid of it. You find comfort in it.

"To change in one way means it can change another."

The fingers you hold dig into you. You feel your skin give way.

Will it get better?

"It can."

You smile up at it. Your marred skin stretches.

"Isn't that incredible?"

Sparks fly as metal crushes and crumples. The horrid din rages through your mind, but it is soon joined by the familiar rustling of feathers.

You step back, releasing your hold on the Being's hand. You feel cool air where your skin was split.

Small hits of cartilage dragging against metal rise and fall. The being is shrunken down to a size like all of the others. A heavy chain clatters to the ground, and it echoes, the last of the noise.

You see a reflection of yourself, but this one is scarred and tattered. Its feathers are unkempt, its scales uneven and messy. It scratches at its skin. You exhale in relief.

The Other has rushed to your side, now that the danger is quieted.

The Cheated:

Maybe I... went a little too far.

"It's okay."

It winces and looks at your many bleeding wounds.

The Cheated:

Is it...?

With delicate hands, the Other feels your gashes. He mumbles under his breath.

The Hero:

I honestly didn't know if we could bleed, but I didn't want to actually find it out.

You place your bloody hand on the side of his face. He looks into your eyes, and you smile.

"Everything is fine. We should move on."

It steps out of your embrace, confused.

The Hero:

Move on? But, isn't this the end?

The Cheated:

The hell d'you mean, "move on"?

The Hero:

I've gotta- Well, I did, but- Um.

You look to the new one.

"There are other people we've managed to save. Would you want to meet them?"

It lights up, tattered feathers flaring with excitement.

The Cheated:

Others? Where? Why didn't you lead with that, not trying to stab me?

You blink, and remember. Your eyes dart around the room.

You feel watched.

The Hero:

Are you sure you're alright?

You nod. Your feet take you to the echo you tossed away. You grab it by the blade, so as to not get any of your blood on the hilt.

The Cheated:

And what's that for? Are you...

It quiets as you reapproach the Other. He hesitantly takes the echo from your grasp.

The Cheated:

I get to see the other people... But you don't? Even though you freed them?

You look at it, a little surprised that it pointed such a thing out, and then you grin.

"Your sense of justice is admirable."

It looks shocked in response. A wing flutters minutely. You look back at the Other.

"This is what comes next."

Your eyebrows furrow in determination. You don't want to die, but there is something that comes after. This isn't the end for you.

The new one pouts with worried discontent. You don't want to leave him.

The Other fiddles with the blade, and then comes to a decision. It mirrors your own look of determination.

You don't break your stare on the shining blade as it raises, and then...

The Other's empty fist hits your chest.

It shouts in confusion and pulls away, a spot of your blood from your other wounds is left on it. The knife is nowhere to be seen.

The Hero:

Huh? Where'd it go?

It looks around the floor around you, believing the blade fell from his hands somewhere in its arc.

The Cheated:

Did it just... Pop out of existence?

You stay frozen. You thought you were going to die. You should have died.

There is a sound. Some, undulating pulsation. Every open wound on your body gets a chill of cold air.

The Other finds your gaze again. His eyes widen in horror.

"Wait..."

Something grabs you. Your vision goes white.

[vicontheinternet]

Fandoms you couldn’t pay me to join even though I either really do like the show, did once or have been interested but for whatever reasons have been turned off by its fandom in no order

9-1-1 (did watch but fell off vapid fandom)

Buddie (no)

Bridgertom (was interested vapid racist fandom I find shonda Rimes to be very...)

Greys anatomy (did watch fell off vapid fandom with hints of racism)

Japril (I hate this ship with a passion mostly because their stans are annoying and turned me off)

Atla cartoon (comfort show vapid vapid fandom)

Anti legend of korra ( I have a love hate relationship with this show)

Driven (I do like them on a surface level but some of their fans can be intense) you will never get me to interact with driven content one I’ve seen multiple post attacking musa for being with riven or or calling musa ugly (she’s a cartoon character) or calling Darcy’s “spell” a dubbing issue while that might be true atp I’m over driven

Klaroline (jesus fucking christ sorry for using your in vain but this ship stans I once saw a fanfic that made caroline a original heretic and she was in the box instead of ester I'll give the points for originality but if they were to do a heretic bonnie was right there you know the wich that already had powers

Anti jegulus ( im not entering a fandom where the couple is written ooc to be together atp they are whole different characters) not trying to yuck someone yum

Sterek (these are some of the most annoying fanbase they don't even like these characters fr because rewrite them to make them so ooc that they are new characters. Why would stiles be in derek pack)

Stiles (I'm not going to lie I used to like stiles but his stans ruined him for me they were insuffible he could do no wrong in their eyes. All because he's a white snarky/sarcastic boy. Dont let write a crossover then they'll make him the most powerful being in the universe. Crossover with tvd/to he's loss mikealson crossover with supernatural hes either a Winchester that has demon blood also or an angel. They think that stile would be a better werewolf then Scott when everything in the show has told us that if he was the that had been the that had been bit his eyes would been blue by the end of season 1. And don't get me started on the friend subject)

The mcu (I used to love the mcu and watch every release but it became quantity over quality and its downfall for me was very sad)

Wanda maximoff and wandavision (I could make a whole video on the whole rollercoaster of thoughts I had on wanda and wandavision because like the mcu I liked both then I didn't. The decent of wandavision was more gradual with wandavision it was episodic to me it was a let down and didn't make sense while I thought Elizabeth Olsen acting was good the writing was not it find out that the writers were swayed not to look at the source material for the show because kevin fegie didn't want them to be influenced although that's the whole point because you're making a supposed comic book adaptation then there's the alleged part reshoot that happened because ppl guessed the ending and let's not forget the whitewashing of Wanda and peitro maximoff who are canonically romani and the mcu deliberately changed it to a made up country somewhere remotely European and made wanda a knock off Jean grey (red hair, pale skin, mind powers) for over ten years so bad that it started to influence the comics

Tony stark (hes a war profiteer, his fans infantilize him. They recognize his PTSD and mental problems only. His side of civil war was dead wrong and ppl to this day will not accept that even if you explain it to then like they are 2. Come onguys the un is useless even iron man knew he was wrong he broke the accords three times in the movie and kidnapped a child to fight adult that he had no business fighting. Also his fans are insane)

Specifically black arianitors that excuse everything thing that grow women does (now I don't dislike her or hate her but man her fanbase is annoying as hell especially the black ones it's like the one non black person who does problematic shit but has a lot black ppl in their corner rooting for them so when they do something out of pocket they don't even have to say anything they're black friends do it for them)

Taylor swift (need I could say more mind you I like some of her songs)

Obx/jaira - yall are psychotic!!!!!!! Yall have been tweaking over fictional characters for a few days

[elizaditton]

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 11)

Links:

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

TW: Blood

- - - - - - - - - -

Brittney's words echoed in my mind all the way home. I guess I haven't really paid much attention to how I've been handling my fear. It just sort of screams at me to get away from pertheans by whatever means necessary, and I've been listening to it. I thought I was doing a good job of handling my fear, but... could I have hurt my deskmate in the process?

"I don't have time to think about this," I utter to myself as I approach apartment 825.

I take my apartment key out of my bag and insert it into the lock on our door. When I turn the key, I hear a click, and quietly push the door handle downwards to open it. I creep into the apartment's entryway, carefully closing the door behind me and locking it back. I then begin to tiptoe through the apartment, ever so quietly, lest Dad hear me and start bombarding me with questions about my day. I'm pretty sure I have nothing to worry about, though, since he's sitting on the couch focused on his laptop and likely didn't hear me come in. I turn to enter the hallway. Now I just need to get to my room.

"How was school?" Dad says from the couch.

Drat. Should I make a run for it? I sigh, turning around. I've done enough running for today.

"Terrible, just like I predicted," I say.

"Terrible, huh?" Dad says, setting his laptop down and turning around in his seat.

"It was crowded with pertheans everywhere I looked!"

"That's kind of the point, dear."

I shift in place, my blood beginning to boil. Of course that's the point, and that's the problem. I just don't understand what good being forced to intermingle with the very people I'm afraid of is going to do for me. If I have to endure one more minute of 'open hand' or 'balcony' etiquette, I might just explode! I take a deep breath and hold it, pursing my lips together.

"Well," Dad says, pushing up his glasses, "was there anything about the school that you did like?"

I cross my arms and keep my eyes glued to the floor. "The time I didn't have to spend with my deskmate," I scoff.

"And how is your deskmate?" Dad asks. "What are they like? How are you getting along?"

"I— he—" I stammer. Images of my deskmate hurt by my rejection flash through my mind. His brows upturned and his wide eyes without that spark they had when we first met. That big, stupid smile of his, gone. I'm quick to shake the thoughts away. I sigh.  "Dad, I really don't want to talk about this right now."

Dad scratches his head and nods. "I get it. I do. This is all new to you and you're still processing everything."

Right. He totally gets what it's like to live in constant fear of being grabbed or crushed by someone twenty times your size. Their fingers wrapping around your entire being, weak and pathetic by comparison, their grip on you tightening at a devilishly slow pace while all you're able to do is stare up at their sickening smile and into their cold, narrowed brown eyes—begging them for mercy as you struggle in vain to cough up the blood that floods your crumpled up lungs and threatens to drown you. My whole frame trembles at the very thought of... that face. Those hands. That... demon...!

I'm brought back to reality by the sound of Dad, now in front of me, snapping his fingers. When I look up at him, his furrowed brows and widened eyes relax. He lets out a sigh, and with both hands, begins to wipe away tears I didn't know had started to creep down my cheeks.

"You're going to be okay," he whispers. "Don't go back there. Look forward."

Against my better judgment and in spite of my temper, I do exactly as I did when I was a little girl. I lunge forward, sinking my face into Dad's chest. He wraps his arms around me, and with gentle shushing, he strokes the back of my head with his hand. Immediately, I'm taken back to when I was a little girl.

Until I was about eleven, I had terrible nightmares on the regular. When I was really little, I used to wake up screaming and run straight to Dad. No matter how late in the night it was, he always got up and held me just like this. I wish what I'm afraid of now was only a nightmare. I wish I could wake up.

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

A sigh escapes me as I shove my English, History, and Algebra books into my bag and close my locker. I try not to think about the inevitable: seeing my deskmate again after that abrupt exit I made yesterday. Yet it keeps on coming to mind, and I know that eventually I'm going to have to see him again.

What's he going to say? What did he think of me running off for a second time? I wouldn't be surprised if he's caught on to my fear by now just because of that! What if he's angry at me for not wanting to hang out with him? A knot forms in my middle as I think of all the ways a perthean could lash out at a human. Yelling. Beating. Crushing. Squashing. I look down at my quivering hands. What have I done? Don't I know better than to anger a perthean? What's going to happen to me now?

I pull out my phone. It's 7:56. I better be getting a move on if I want to make it to class on time. I take a deep breath and exhale, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. My heart beats faster with every second that passes on my way to the balcony, and my legs, wobbly as ever, threaten to give out with each step. I'm never going to get through this school year, am I? I'm such a wreck!

I weave through the crowds of human students blocking the entryway to the balcony, my whole body shaking more and more as I near the spot where I'll be interacting with my deskmate again. Can the others see me shaking? Can they tell I'm scared out of my mind? Everyone looks so happy to be here—smiling, talking amongst themselves, talking with their deskmates. I feel so utterly out of place, even among my own kind.

I approach the spot on the balcony where I last met my deskmate, and, reluctant as ever, scan the room for any sign of him. He's nowhere to be found. I scan the room again, and still nothing. Where is he? Maybe I should text him. I pull out my phone again, only to realize that I still haven't answered any of his texts. Would it be too awkward to text him now?

As I'm standing there worrying about the social etiquette of sending text messages, a shadow engulfs the area of the balcony I'm on, surrounding me entirely. Do I dare look? My heart pounds as an index finger bigger than my couch presents itself in front of me. I gulp. My eyes trace the oversized digit up to an oversized arm and across the mountain of green cloth that comprises the school's uniform before landing on a pair of dead, drooping blue eyes. I blink. Is this... my deskmate?

"Miss Finch," the boy in front of me mumbles.

I stare up at him, mouth agape. What happened to him? I envisioned him being... angrier. Confused, I take a few steps backward. I look at his finger again, which hasn't budged from its place in front of me. My eyes turn back to the boy's. He doesn't say anything. I don't say anything. We stand in silence. Something tugs at my heart as I look at my deskmate. Did I do this? Did I... break him?

I realize we can't stand in silence forever, so after I've had a moment to process the sight in front of me, I step forward and grab on tightly to my deskmate's outstretched finger. Once I'm secure, the boy lifts me from my place on the balcony and gently sets me down in the palm of his hand. He doesn't remove his finger until I'm situated. My heart pounds hard in my chest, but not for the reason I would have thought. I'm less concerned with being in this perthean's hand, I find, and more concerned with him looking... miserable. Could I have really done this to him? Am I the reason he's miserable? From the palm of his hand, I look back up to his face as he starts walking down the hall towards our first class.

"M-mi—" I start, my voice cracking. What in the world am I doing?! "Mr. Dr... Drake?"

There's no way he heard such a tiny squeak like that. Gosh, I'm so pathetic, I can't even bring myself to say his name!

His head turns downward, and his gloomy eyes meet my gaze. My heart pounds and pounds—a hundred times a second! There's a twisting, turning, churning deep in my core—and I can't keep myself from trembling helplessly where I sit in this boy's palm. His eyes, so full of energy and wide with enthusiasm when we first met, are now void of any hope or joy. I can't look at them. I turn my eyes to my own hands, folded in my lap, as the boy's stare burns me from above like a laser.

He doesn't say anything. I don't say anything. We move in silence.

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

I have to do something, I can't stand this. It breaks me to see him so downcast. And the fact that I did this weighs on me like a whole mountain of boulders.

Brittney's words from yesterday echo in my mind again: "your actions, whether you intend them to or not, can affect others. Especially your deskmate."

Especially my deskmate...

I have to fix this. What am I going to tell Brittney when she sees her friend like this? I can almost see her now, asking 'what did you do to him?!'

The bell rings. As students stand up to leave the class, the teacher rambles on.

"The bell doesn't dismiss you, I do," he says sternly. As students scramble out the door, he waves one hand in defeat. "Whatever, you're dismissed."

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor behind me catches my attention. I look back and see my deskmate stand to collect his things. I close my Algebra textbook and stuff it in my bag along with my notes. This is my last chance to make things right before we separate for our P.E. and lunch periods. I don't know what I'm more scared of, apologizing to this guy or the reactions his friends will have when they find out I'm the reason he's so upset.

I stand and turn around. The perthean boy in front of me is still shoving things into his bag at a sluggish pace. My heart thumps about in my chest as if it had a death wish. Pound, pound, pound! I wring my sweaty, quivering hands together and search my racing heart for anything, anything I can say to smooth things over with this guy.

"E-excuse me," I murmur.

Nothing. He didn't hear me this time. I have to speak up, don't I? Can I really do this? Should I really do this?

"E-excuse me, M-Mr. D-Drake?" I say, my legs quaking and my spine threatening to crack as I crane my neck back to look at my deskmate.

His eyebrows furrow, and his gaze shifts back and forth. He turns to look down at me, raising an eyebrow. His body, towering over me, takes up my whole field of vision. I nearly stumble backwards trying to keep my eyes fixed on his face, high above me. The boy, perplexed, points to himself as if to ask if I'm really talking to him.

"Mhm," I nod. Oh, what am I doing?!

The boy sits down in his chair. "Y-yeah? What's up?" he clears his throat. "I mean... is something wrong?"

"I-I..." I stare into his eyes, still drooping, still cold, still... distant. "I-I was wondering if we could... talk."

"Well, we're talking."

Ouch.

"Umm... I... there's something... I mean I want... no, I need—" I ramble on aimlessly.

"Yes?"

"There's something I need to say to you," I finally spit out.

"Something you need to say to me?" he asks, eyes widening as he sits up in his seat.

"Y-yes."

"Okay, I'm listening," he says, folding his arms.

"I-I-" my heart, oh my heart, I've run out of words to describe how badly it wants to beat right out of my chest and run far, far away from here! My insides contort into a big, twisted knot, leaving me mangled from the inside out. What do I say?! What do I do?!

"Miss Finch?"

I cross my right arm over my chest. Trembling and out of breath, I lean forward to bow the deepest I know how. "I-I'm sorry!"

"Huh?"

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry for how I've treated you, for ignoring you and acting cold! A-and for r-running away, I didn't know what to say to you, and— I—" I look back up from my bow and see eyes wider than I've ever seen before. "If... if it's okay with you, I- I was wondering, can... can we start over?"

The boy blinks. I just made a fool of myself, didn't I? There's no way he'll forgive me! I've already done too much, what was I thinking even trying to apologize?

The boy's eyes soften, and he smiles. He lifts his right arm and crosses it over his chest. "I'm Derrick," he says. He opens one eye and looks at me. "And you are?"

My heart stops. Is this... is this him accepting my apology?

"Kaylin," I say, my arm crossing my chest as I dip forward again, this time only slightly.

"Well, Kaylin," Derrick says, "I guess you and I are deskmates. And we really should be headed to our next class."

"O-oh! Right," I say.

Derrick offers me his index finger, and I grab onto it tightly. As he lifts me up, I feel lighter. Not just because I practically weigh nothing in comparison, but... because I somehow managed to make up with a perthean. A perthean. And not only that... I think I just made a friend.

[honeygrahambitch]

WHATS A HANNIGRAM CODED TAYLOR SWIFT SONG

The perfect ask doesn't exi-

I have prepared for this my whole life. Here is a list of hannigram coded taylor swift songs.

Look what you made me do

it's sexy and petty and it's the perfect Will Graham in salmon shirt revenge song but it's also very Hannibal in Mizumono coded.

2. I did something bad

perfect for both of them and especially for Will discovering that killing people makes him feel stuff that he shouldn't

3. Back to december (I am feral about this one)

perfect for them. chef's kiss. You can listen to it and think about Mizumono or about Digestivo, depends what kind of pain you want.

It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you

Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine

I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright

this is so Will Graham thinking about Mizumono and also Hannibal surrendering to the FBI cause he doesn't need freedom if he cannot have Will.

But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right

I'd go back in time and change it, but I can't So if the chain is on your door, I understand

This lyrics too because it's the tea cup motif, turning back the time, which is exactly what Hannibal wanted to do in digestivo. And also related to Will's regrets about Mizumono.

4. Mastermind

Perfect for them both, from beginning to end. Nothing to add than some very fitting lyrics.

I knew I wanted your body I laid the groundwork, and then Just like clockwork The dominoes cascaded in a line What if I told you I'm a mastermind? And now you're mine It was all my design

5. Better than revenge (more as crack if you want to think of it from Hannibal's pov towards Molly lol)

6. Right where you left me

season 3b coded, breaks you to pieces if you imagine them and the glass wall in between.

7. Wonderland

I reached for you, but you were gone I knew I had to go back home You searched the world for somethin' else To make you feel like what we had And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad

them in season 3a, Hannibal trying to replace Will with Anthony but it was in vain.

8. Come back, be here

Will grieving after Hannibal left

9. Hoax

there is so much to say about this one, I find it very fitting

My only one My smoking gun My eclipsed sun This has broken me down My twisted knife My sleepless night My win-less fight This has frozen my ground

(...)

My best laid plan Your sleight of hand My barren land I am ash from your fire

(...)

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart You knew the password, so I let you in the door You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart But what you did was just as dark

you can think about all the pain they have inflicted into each other and each time they have betrayed each other

10. I almost do

11. Sad Beautiful Tragic

so so so hannigram coded

We both wake In lonely beds In different cities And time Is taking its sweet time erasing you And you've got your demons And darlin' they all look like me

12. Ivy (which is considered to be a very queer song)

I wish to know The fatal flaw that makes you long to be Magnificently cursed

13. Willow (a lil more cheesy)

14. The lakes

hannigram coded because they don't fit in the normal world. And the lyrics sound like something Hannibal would say

15. Vigilante shit

as petty and sexy as Look what you made me do

16. Bad blood

doesn't need any explanation

17. No body, no crime

for the whole arc of Will trying to convince everyone Hannibal framed him

18. Getaway Car

Mizumono coded

19. The Great War

twotl coded

All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War

(...)

It turned into something bigger Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed Your finger on my hair pin triggers Soldier down on that icy ground Looked up at me with honor and truth Broken and blue, so I called off the troops That was the night I nearly lost you I really thought I lost you

and this part very Mizumono coded

20. Peace

they are both problematic for each other

21. The Alcott

describes the Uffizi Gallery scene. Like, in perfect detail.

22. My tears ricochet

23. Illicit Affairs

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

24. Last kiss

for when Hannibal is locked up

25. Haunted

26. Cowboy like me

especially because Will is from the south lol

I've got some tricks up my sleeve Takes one to know one

Hope this helps!

[abbzworld]

Goodbye, My Love

AN – Here’s the second story! Be warned that it focuses on a more angsty and graphic story. It isn’t explicit in its violence but there are mentions of injuries and such.

So if you need to skim/skip over this story because of that, feel free. :)

TW for blood and description of injuries.

@zelinkcommunity

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

The land was deeply scarred from the battle.

There were craters and cracks in the ground, smoke filled the air, and there were corpses everywhere – surface-dwellers and demons alike.

This greatly saddened Hylia, even though she knew that sacrifices were necessary to bring peace to the land.

This didn’t mean she had to like it, though.

Thankfully, their sacrifice had not been in vain. Demise had been defeated, his lackeys driven away and her people, the Hylian’s, were now safe high up in the clouds.

The main threat had finally passed, even though she knew this could not last forever. She would have to make preparations for when Demise inevitably returned.

“Your Grace…”

She felt her body go cold at the strained voice of her hero. She hesitantly turned around and saw him kneeling on the ground, clutching his side as blood seeped through his fingers and onto the ground where one of the demons had used a dagger to stab him. He had other injuries as well. Gashes and cuts were on his face, there were rips in his tunic from their claws tearing at him, and he had some deep bruising from being hit by rocks and fists, especially on his stomach.

She knew that he wouldn’t last much longer.

And sure enough, he collapsed onto the ground, causing her to hurry over to him.

As she gently lifted his head, he weakly glanced up at her.

“Is… Is it o-over?” He hoarsely asked.

 “Yes.” She soothed him. “You can rest now. You have fought well.”

He let out a mirthless laugh, causing him to cough up blood. Once he’d stopped, he told her, “I-I wasn’t able t-to destroy him…”

“That would’ve been impossible.” She assured him. “Even if we had destroyed Demise, another would’ve risen in his place. Light cannot exist without darkness, after all.”

He let out a weary sigh. “S-So… is the work w-we do… never-ending?”

She sighed. “I’m afraid it is.”

“So… w-what should w-we do?”

“We can rest for now.” She gently told him, caressing his face. “We have fought long and hard for this peace, even if it’s not everlasting. That shall be our reward.”

He weakly smiled. “Alright…” His voice was little more than a whisper at this point. “Rest… that sounds… nice…”

Her lip quivered as she could feel his life fading from him.

However, before he left, she knew what to say to make his passing easier. “I promise we will meet again. It will not be in this life, but when we are needed, we shall awaken.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing getting shallower…

“I’m… I’m sorry that it had to end like this.” She choked out, stifling a sob. “But… I promise you that our bond is everlasting. We will… meet again and again whenever we are needed. And we will always be together, even if we can’t remember why…”

She sniffled and said, “But for now… goodbye.”

And then, he was gone.

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face. She took a moment to mourn him, soft sobs rising from her throat even as his blood stained her hands. Eventually, however, she knew that she still had work to do.

After gently setting him on the ground, she kissed his forehead before sighing and standing up.

The battle may have been over but it had taken immense sacrifice from everyone involved…

And she would do her best to honor that sacrifice.

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

AN – I hope you enjoyed! See you tomorrow for the next story!

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Deep Regret: Dante x Male Reader

Summary: Younger Dante was a much different man than he is now; things that are forever burned into your mind. Things that bubble back up to the surface and you tried to suppress; but this time, you are unable to quell your inner turmoil.

Beginning Notes: Originally this was a Nero fic. but the further I got the more I felt this fit Dante better. Minor blood warning; it's only for the first paragraph. 🌦️🍃🌦️ Male reader x Dante Unestablished relationship; however, there is talk of being friends with benefits--although it is not mentioned, it was during the time between DMC 2 and 4.* Angry fluff? Dante is a fucking idiot; seriously. Minor internalized homophobia (Dante)

==

     Today’s contract had been long and grueling; not only were you out of bullets, but you were also running out of patience.

     With a swift kick, you knocked a Hell Cania to the ground and kneeled on its back. A loud growling shout left your lips as you pulled back on the demon’s neck, followed by the sound of tearing flesh and tendons. Blood spurted from the demon as you yanked harder; ripping its head from its body. With a slight twitch of irritation on your lips, you tossed the disembodied head from the corpse and stood up. 

     Dante watched with a wide-eyed confused expression at your sudden animalistic aggression. If you had been in a better mood, the red devil would have made a playful remark about how that was semi-arousing; but the two of you just continued forwards in an uncomfortable powder keg of silence. 

     Generally speaking, you didn’t consider yourself an angry person but you’d reached your breaking point. The worst part was, you didn’t even have the right to be this pissed off with the legendary hunter; only making your annoyance worsen.

     Not being able to stand the silence any longer, Dante finally spoke, “So… You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or..?”

     With gritted teeth, you clenched your fists in a vain attempt to stay calm, “No.”

     Dante pursed his lips, “Then what’s wrong?”

     “Nothing,” you answered him curtly.

     “Come on,” he sighed and walked faster to catch up to you, “I know something’s up--Did Verge say something rude again?”

     “No,” with an audible swallow, you grumbled, “Just leave it be.”

     “Nope, sorry I can’t do that,” with a bright laugh, he playfully shoved your shoulder. 

     Without thinking, you turned and socked him right in the nose; breaking it.

     “Hey!” the red devil yanked his nose back in place as it healed quickly, “What the fuck is your problem?!” he threw his hands up in frustration.

      “My problem?” your tone was angry enough that it had circled back around and become an uncanny calm.

     “Yeah, your problem!” Dante’s lip twitched as he scowled. 

     With violently angry steps, you turned to approach your partner, “You-!” you jabbed your pointer finger harshly into his chest, “You are my fucking problem, Dante!”

     “The fuck did I do?” he hit your hand away from him.

     “Don’t play stupid,” you shoved him harshly, making him stumble back a bit, “You know exactly what I am talking about!”

     Silence had re-emerged as the two of you stood staring at one another Dante had a confused hardened glare and you had a large enraged scowl. That’s when you fully allowed yourself to snap; taking him by surprise. 

     You tackled him by the hips to the ground and pinned him down. Dante squirmed a bit before shoving you off him. Using the momentum from the shove, you stood back upright. Still unsure of what was going on, Dante stood back up as well. The two of you got into a small scuff; which only confused Dante more. The red devil did his best to not hurt you (since he could quite easily break your bones or worse) while you didn't hold back in the slightest. Seeing an opening, you used a Muay Thai sweep and knocked him back onto the ground. Then you pinned him underneath you, harshly digging your elbow into his throat--staring deeply into his turquoise eyes. 

     He put his hands up in defeat, “Alright- Alright, I yield,” it was then that he noticed your pained stare and decided to take a calmer tone with you, “Just tell me what I did.”

     A tremble found its way to your lip as you dug harder into him before removing yourself from his neck. You stood up and moved your jaw side to side in thought. With a purse of your lips, you shook your head and turned from him; not only ashamed of what you just instigated but of why your mood was soured in the first place. 

     However, the red devil wasn’t having that nonsense and he bolted upright. Quickly, he grabbed your shoulder and turned you to him, “No- we are talking about this; right here, right now. I want to understand so I can make it bet--”

     “There is no making this better,” you hissed at him and scowled, doing your best to hold in your tears.

     “Just tell me,” Dante’s grip tightened as he frowned slightly, “please..?”

     You just stared back at him in silence, not knowing where to start or even if you should tell him.

==

     This feeling started to grow out of control around a month ago.

     The two of you were finishing up an evacuation job; nothing new. Except, today one of the civilians decided to personally thank Dante.

     When evacuating, you had watched her interact with the red devil. She was a petite young lady--maybe in her late twenties--and she had long pearl-beige hair with deep brown eyes. Along with that, she was very soft-spoken and seemed very sweet; a perfect woman for a brash man like Dante. 

     You didn’t quite hear everything that was said but when you looked over at your partner, the young lady was kissing his cheek and handed him a slip of paper. It wasn’t uncommon for people to be overly grateful and friendly with the two of you--especially Dante--but this was a whole new ballpark. 

     With a confused but happy smile, Dante waltzed over to you, “Hey, you’ll never guess what just--”

     “You finally experienced the touch of a woman?” a grin decorated your face, despite the slightly sad feeling stirring in your gut. 

     “How did you..?” he furrowed his brow.

     “I saw you,” you knelt and tightened your bootlaces, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat, “She seems nice; you got her number too, right?”

     The red devil gave you a toothy grin, not realizing your discomfort,  “Yep! I think I’m gonna call her and go out on a date.”

     “Ah,” you stood back up and slapped his shoulder lightly, “The 40-year-old virgin is finally getting some action, good for you man.”

     The two of you shared a small laugh; knowing that was far from the truth. No, in reality, being his first was something that you had the privilege of taking--as he did yours. Although you’d never tell him, it still hurt you that Dante didn’t want to pursue an established relationship with you; unable to get over the fact that you were both men sharing long intimate nights with one another. 

     Thankfully, that horrible mindset had been long abandoned, nowadays, Dante was completely straightforward with his universal attraction. 

     The occurrence with the young lady turned out to be nothing special; hell, you weren’t even sure if Dante ever went out with her, but it still bothered you. Things only got worse as this kept happening. 

     At first, it was only after jobs where the two of you would save civilians or run into other non-DMC hunters. Then it was every time the two of you went anywhere; out to eat, shopping, or even hanging out--people just kept hitting on Dante. 

     After a while, he started to hit on them back, blatantly flirting with them right in front of you with no regard for how much it hurt you. It drove you nuts. All you have ever wanted was to have just a chance with the red devil, and now, you were watching dozens of others shoot their shot and Dante was enjoying it.

     You never said anything to him. What could you even say? The two of you had discussed the fact that Dante was only into you because of the sex; that’s it. So why had you allowed yourself to grow attached to your long-time friend in that kind of way? 

     It ate you up inside and out as the month went on, slowly turning you into the bitter person you are now. 🍃🌦️🍃      Your face was expressionless as you let a few stray tears fall, finally coming up with some sort of answer. You whispered with a slightly strained voice, “I think that I am going to switch partners…” a pit formed in your gut at the thought, however, you couldn’t keep bringing up the past to him; not like this. 

     “What?” Dante’s eyes went wide, “No, hey-- We can talk about this--”

     Without saying anything, you pushed his hands from your shoulders and turned from him; not wanting to let him see that you weren’t able to keep your eyes from weeping any longer. 

     His voice was soft as he went to reach out for you again, “Baby, I--”

     You whipped your head around fast enough that it made you lightheaded, “That! Right fucking there! That’s the goddamned problem, Dante!” you balled your hand up into a fist and shoved him; a mix of red-hot anger and tears adorning your face.

     He shook his head a bit with a furrowed brow in confusion, “Wha-” that’s when it clicked, “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

     Once more, you didn’t say anything and turned away. In the past, Dante had blamed you for loving him; that it was your fault for growing attached to him. You stood stiffly and braced for the same unbridled angry lecture you had gotten all those years ago; however, it never came.

     Softly, Dante sighed through his nose and quietly spoke, “I’m sorry.”

     You tensed your shoulders upward in confusion.

     Using one of his hands, Dante gently grabbed your wrist, “Look, I know that I have said some… pretty bad shit to you about… us,” he leaned his forehead on your shoulder blades, “I am sorry.”

     Your body shook as you let out a shuddering breath, not believing what you were hearing.

     He moved down to your hand, holding it as if it would break from the slightest of breezes, “I shouldn’t have treated you like that,” his voice cracked a bit as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say, “and I know that it hurt you… and I,” Dante furrowed his brow and spoke quieter with every word, “I didn’t mean any of it… I know that we are- that I,” his voice trailed off before he sighed again and returned to an audible whisper, “I love you, please don’t go.” 

     With a whimper, you looked up at the sky in hopes that he wasn’t just lying to you. A tremble formed in your lips and jaw as you took heavy slow breaths through your mouth; unsure what to say.

     “I know that you probably don’t believe me,” he leaned harder into you, “but if it is any consolation… I never did call any of those people.”

     You stuttered out a croak of a response, “Bullshit,” you barely could speak through the lump of mixed emotions in your throat.

     “No,” Dante removed himself from your back with a shake of his head, “No, I am serious. I didn’t go out with anyone, there was no point.”

     A small noise of disbelief is all you could manage in response. 

     The red devil let go of your hand and moved to stand in front of you. Although you did your best, you couldn’t help but look down from the heavens at the less-than-angelic devil in front of you. Dante's expression was a mixture of pained and pleading; one that you had never seen before. 

     He slowly moved closer to you and pulled you into a tight hug, setting the side of his face against your neck, “I’m sorry.”

     Your hands wrapped around him and grasped his coat as you cried. Although you know he wouldn’t admit it, you could feel Dante let loose a few stray tears against your neck. The two of you just stood together and forgot about the world for a moment.

     With a gentle whisper, Dante buried his face into the crook of your neck, “I can’t lose you, please.”

     At this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted to kick him in the nuts or kiss him, giving your tone a slight sound of frustration, “How do I know that you aren’t-?” your voice cracked which left your thought half-spoken.

     Dante pulled back out of the hug and grabbed your hands, “All I can offer is my word; which I know probably doesn’t mean much…” he sighed, “but I really do care about you--I always have. I was just,” Dante looked downwards with a small amount of shame on his face, “ afraid .”

     You broke eye contact and shook your head as you moved your jaw around in thought, “You’re an asshole, you know that?” despite your expression, your voice sounded disingenuous.

     With a whisper and nod, Dante smiled slightly, “Yeah, I know.”

     Your lips were still trembling when you turned back to face him, “Why didn’t you say anything-?” because of your crying, your voice was muddled and thick; which sent a sharp stabbing sadness through Dante’s heart.

     “I thought that after what I did--what I said--that you didn’t,” he moved one shoulder in a shrug, “didn’t have feelings for me anymore; figured it was for the best, ya know?”

     You shook your head slightly, “If you pull the same bullshit as before…” you moved your jaw to the side, “ I will kick your ass; you got that Dante?”

     The red devil chuckled lightly, “If that’s all then there’s nothing to be concerned about,” he moved closer to you, leaving only a few inches between you both, “Cause it’ll never happen.”

     Despite your upset nature, you couldn’t help but laugh at his out-of-character actions from him. 

     “What?” Dante gave you a confused tilt and a small smirk.

     “Just weird hearing you be so,” you shook your head, “nice.”

     “Well, you’d better get used to it,” the red devil leaned down so he was at eye level with you, “cause I am gonna be so nice to ya that you won’t even remember all those bad things.”

     “Oh god,” you laughed, “That feels like a threat.”

     Dante smirked, “In a way,” he moved to place his lips right above yours, resting the side of his nose against yours, “it kind of is.”

     “Mn, how scary,” you gently smiled. 

     It wasn’t clear who moved first, but the two of you interconnected lips. Dante’s hands moved to your sides and grabbed you tightly; using that to help pour every ounce of how much he loved you and will love you within that single moment. The kiss was fervourous and passionate, and yet, it was somehow sweet and innocent all that the same time. Long languid slow movements of his firey lips made you tremble; forgetting how much you missed his burning touch. Your hands moved his chest and grabbed his shirt tightly, making him smirk. Dante decided to knead into your sides with his fingers, deeply massaging your muscles; making you moan quietly. 

     The legendary hunter devoured those sweet melodic noises as he pushed his tongue very cautiously into your mouth; not wanting to overstep his bounds. However, you gladly welcomed him with your own. Feeling your passion, Dante’s grip tightened harder into your sides and made you groan more. Using one of your hands, you gently ran your fingers through his silken locks, making him shudder and moan loudly. 

     Slowly, the two of you parted lips and stayed with foreheads touching, a small faint purring could be heard through each of Dante’s breaths. Both of you just stood together, holding one another; enjoying the warming comfort of a flame long since tended to. One which you never wanted to leave again and neither did he.

     However, all good things must come to an end. A loud shuffling noise accompanied by distorted growling quickly reminded you both that you were still on a job. With a smirk and one long last look into your eyes, Dante parted from your grasp and took care of the mini-horde that had appeared. Leaving you to process what happened. To process that Dante was finally yours. 

==

Ending Notes: *Just to clear things up a bit: because Dante only wants a physical relationship with you, the pair of you did not become a mated set. 🍃🌦️🍃 He's a little OOC; but whatever lmao. I might do a follow-up on this one (or maybe an angsty prequel about the time between 2 and 4). == What to expect next: "Tainted Purity" Vergil x Male Reader "What Do You Call Me?" Vergil x Male reader "Uncontrolled Instincts" Vergil x Male Reader "Stubborn and Old" Vergil x Reader "You Can't Leave Me Here" Nero x Reader "A Part of Me" ??? x Reader (it's a surprise) (These are all in my WIP folder; I don't know what will be done first or if there will be others that will come before these)

==

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[giggly-squiggily]

Hi babe, hope you doing super...

I 've a question, you can do so.eting with sae(bllk) and tickles :3?

Thanks, take care 🌹

*kicks door in with my ryusae BS* My time has come.

Hey friend! I'm doing better than expected as of late akjrkjearjkejk Of course I'm writing this on April 16- we'll see if that stands today. Sae beloved- it's time to wreck this stoic man! I've gotcha covered!

CW: Swearing, Minor Blood mention, Nose Bleeds, Suggestive flirting (It's Shidou afterall)

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps)

@cupcake-spice13

Sae Itoshi was a man of absolute stoicism.

Compliments, insults, random declarations of love and war- none of them mattered to him. He faced every situation, every interview, every new encounter with fellow soccer players on and off the field with the same carefully crafted expression and tone.

“You have pretty feet.”

Insert Shidou Ryusei and all that careful guarding went out the window.

“What?” Sae blinked, not prepared for his boyfriend’s commentary. They were in a hotel room after their most recent practice, sprawled out across the bed as a random movie played in the background. Sae had originally opted to nap, but that proved near impossible with the demon constantly readjusting his positioning. Instead he chose to get invested in a round of Temple Run- his little character flying off the edge of the path upon hearing Shidou’s remark.

“Your feet. They're pretty.” Shidou grinned from his spot on the bed. Somehow he’d turned himself over without Sae realizing it- propped up in a hand and feet kicking giddily behind him. “I thought they’d be all gross, but they're nice.”

“....Thank you?” Sae shook his head, resisting the urge to tuck his legs beneath a blanket. This was Shidou, so he wasn’t surprised by this observation. Still, it was strange, the things he pointed out as “Pretty” on Sae- from his eyes and their lower lashes to the curve of his back to now…his feet. “Of course they’re not gross. I showered.”

Shidou rolled his eyes with a grin, still staring. The blanket grew more and more tempting; but that would be admitting weakness.

And Sae Itoshi hated showing weakness.

“You should paint them.” Shidou remarked, daring to reach out and poke a toe. “Paint them to match your eyes.”

“Why?” Sae fought down a twitch. “No one’s going to see them.”

“I will!” Shidou grinned, poking again. “I’ll be the only one who gets to know about Sae-Sae’s pretty painted toesies!”

“What did I say about the nickname?” Fed up, he shoved his feet beneath the blankets, feeling smug when Shidou pouted. “And leave my feet alone. I’m not painting my toes.”

“How about your fingernails?” Shidou turned his attention to his legs, walking two fingers up his calf. “Paint them Pink! They’ll match my eyes!”

“Paint your own nails.” Sae tried to fight down another squirm, but Shidou seemed adamant about touching him. He shifted when those two fingers got close to his knee, regretting his choice to wear shorts instead of sweatpants. “Stop that.”

“Why?” That damn voice. He knew what he was doing.

“Because.”

“Because~?”

Sae glared, turning his attention back to his phone. Ignore, ignore, ignore-

Shidou smirked again as he retracted his hand, fingers backwalking down his calf before tapping against his ankle. Without breaking his gaze on Sae, he shot his hand beneath the blankets covering his feet.

“No-Don’t!” Sae barely got out before an honest to god squeal ripped out of his throat, his whole body spasming upon the feeling of Shidou’s fingers attacking his foot. “Shidohoohohohu, stahhahahhaap!”

“Oh my GOD, what was that?” Shidou cackled in glee, throwing himself against Sae’s legs to continue his playful assault. “Did you just squeal? You squealed! Holy shit- do it again!”

Sae, much to his mortification, did. He tried to sit up, reaching in vain for Shidou’s- what, shirt? Hair? Face? Anything to yank him off his legs and break himself free from his relentless tickling. Bubbly, childlike giggles mixed with angry swears and threats to kill as he grabbed the nearest thing- Shidou’s pillow- and yeeted it at him with all his might. “Shihihihihihidou, yooohohohohhu ahahahhhass, Sthahahhap ihihiiihihit! Ahehahha- ghehehhhet oohohohohff my fehehehhehehet-NAhhahhahaha, not thehehehehhere!”

“Oo, does someone got tickly toes?!” Shidou giggled as he scratched his fingers beneath said spot, nearly getting kicked in the face with the flailing opposite leg. “Aww, does the great Sae-Sae want me to move somewhere else? Does he?” He cooed, dropping his feet and twisting, tackling the other into the bed as his fingers dug into his sides. “How about here, huh? Does it tickle?”

Sae let out a strangled curse, reaching for anything to smack Shidou off him. The closest thing was his pillow- he wore it like a shield, shoving it into the other’s face in hope’s to suffocate him. “GEhehhehehhet oohoohohohoff, you dihiihihihck!”

“Glady, you can help me with that later.” Shidou tossed the pillow aside with his teeth, one hand dancing along Sae’s ribs while the other clawed beneath his thin t-shirt, making Sae squeak. He leaned in to get a better look at his radiant smile-

SMACK!

“Ow, shit- fuck…” Sae groaned, holding his forehead. Shidou blinked, slightly dazed. When he leaned in, Sae spasmed forward, causing their heads to collide. Something warm was on his face.

“You moron- Shit, you’re bleeding.” Sae’s irritated look faded to a look of shock, his hands taking Shidou’s face gently. Blinking, Shidou wiped at his nose, pulling back to find his finger red. Ah. So he was. “Oh no- is it broken?”

Shidou twitched it. “Nah, it’s fine. Though I’m gonna have quite the shiner in the morning- hehehe.”

Sae shook his head, reaching over and grabbing a few tissues out the drawer. Gingerly, he pressed them against Shidou’s nose, instructing him to pinch and look down.

“Can you turn over so I have something to look at?” Shidou grinned, the comment earning him a sharp swat to the shoulder. “Hehe, okay, okay.”

“Idiot…” Sae shook his head, his usual glare returning as he sat them up. Despite his expression, all his movements were gentle, everything from checking Shidou’s face a second time to placing the ice pack he ordered  for his nose. “...Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was worth it.” Shidou grinned around the small pouch. “If I get to see that pretty smile of yours for the rest of my life, I’ll gladly take a thousand headbutts to the nose.”

“Now you’re just being dumb.” Sae huffed as he turned away, but not before Shidou saw him blush. Smiling, he crawled up- wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“I mean it though. I love your smile. And your laugh. Hell, I love everything about you.” Shidou said against his neck, watching in amusement as it flushed as pink as his boyfriend’s hair. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Gross.” Sae deadpanned, though there was a smile in his voice.

“You love me.” Shidou kissed his cheek- loud and obnoxious.

He really did.

Thanks for reading!

[journeythroughlifesblog]

'Royal loss' au chapter 3. (part one)

As he said, he did. The monkey king searched all the kingdoms for his son. But first he went to the land of the dead. He hoped that his beloved's soul would be there, but in vain. Liuer's soul was not there. Then where was his beloved? After all, the soul cannot be destroyed, or can it be? the king thought. There was no point in staying in the land of death any longer, so he went back to the mountain, which had remained as it was when he came back from that damn battle with DBK. The forest was half destroyed. The scent of the warrior's blood still lingered in the cave. The king, after visiting the land of the dead, decided to bury the corpse of his beloved. In their special place upstairs. It was a special place because you could see all sides of the world from there, and in the evenings they watched the night sky there, but that's not all, this is where the monkey king proposed to his warrior. It was one of the most beautiful moments in his life. The king buried the body. He erected a tombstone and decorated it with flowers to please his warrior. He knelt before the grave. ''Hey Luer. I was in mortal land today.. where have you gone?'' A tear rolled down his face. ''But you know what our son must live because his soul wasn't there either, but you died and you weren't there either, I don't like it. But then I will find you both.'' New tears flowed and fell on the warrior's grave. The king came to his beloved every day telling what he had done.

Back to the search. Wukong searched the heven. He burst into the emperor's palace with fury in his eyes, demanding an explanation.

“Sun Wukong, what brings you here?” asked the emperor.

"Oh, you know what's going on," replied the king furiously.

"No, I don't know what you mean this time." The Emperor replied confused.

''It's because of you that I lost my family!! If you don't give them back to me right now, I swear I'll tear the whole damn land apart!!''

''Sun Wukong, how dare you threaten us! We had nothing to do with your family. We didn't even know you lost them...

"If I hadn't gone to fight DBK for you then, I would have saved them." ""So I ask you again what did you do?" Their deadly stares met.

"And I tell you again that heaven had nothing to do with it." The annoyed emperor recounted. Wukong glared at him again, turned around, but before leaving he said: "But if you're lying.. then you know what I am and what will happen to heaven and beyond" and left the palace. Outside, he sent a group of clones to search the entire heven. He did go back upstairs. He locked himself in the hut and began jotting down a plan of action. Names of demons who would be willing to hurt his family for his sins. He put cards everywhere. Piles of notes were scattered around the rooms. Except for one. The room where he slept with his family. He locked it and swore that he would not open it until he found his son and found out what happened to Liuer's soul. He sent his monkeys out to search the forest and around the mountain. Months passed before all of the heavenly realm had not been checked, but even if it had been, the king was sending new colonies to check again. Every day he got a report from the scouts. Hope faded every day. He stopped searching the heavenly realm and focused on the mortal realm. But it must be admitted that he lacked strength. The king was sinking deeper and deeper into despair. He sent clones around the world. The days passed slowly and monotonously. The king has lost track of time. He didn't realize how long he was searching, but it didn't matter to Wukong. He wanted to find Liuer's son and soul. Monkey King usually didn't leave the cabin. He pored over his notes. Maybe he missed something very obvious. He was going through piles of notes. His subjects began to worry about their king, whom they rarely saw. Wukong, if he didn't spend time in the hut, he spent time at the grave of his beloved. He tidied plants, arranged flowers, talked. Even though he was alone, he felt that Liuer was with him. The next days passed, or maybe years? The king began to feel that he would never see his loved ones. He was in complete mental breakdown. He barely ate. He neglected himself. He was wearing threadbare clothes that had been worn over the years. His flock could not watch their king weaken. He even stopped sending clones. Searched everything and nothing.

[beelsbignaturals]

Dead is The New Alive

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Warnings: Blood, aggression, mild injury, disassociation, death mention, general vampire activities (blood drinking), strong language

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Over the course of a week or so–Honestly my perception of time is skewed–I'm on what is essentially house arrest. Not that I have it in me to try and do much of anything. Any school related activities have been put on hold. Most of my days are spent hiding in the dark of my room. Everyone else seems to want everything to go back to normal. I do too, but it's just not happening.

It seems that overall, luck is on my side. I haven't seen Belphegor since the incident. I doubt I could keep up this charade otherwise. On the other end of things, Beel also hasn't been around much. I thought we were friends, but I can't hold a candle to his favorite brother. 

Occasionally one of the brothers will try to entice me out of my safe haven. Attempts are met with the nearest item I can find flying through the air. I don't know why I'm responding like this. I wish I understood what was going on. 

Hours upon hours are spent crouched in the far corner of my room. It's the only place I feel safe enough to nod off. To be honest that's just the routine now. Sitting here, watching the door and taking note of where everyone is at any given time by the sound of footsteps. 

Whenever someone has the audacity to stay despite my precision yeeting I eventually lay off the violence and accept my fate. If I speak at all it's an apology that's quickly waved off. If it's Lucifer or Satan they waste their breath trying to pry answers about that night out of me. Mammon and Asmo try to get me to engage at all. Their efforts are in vain. I just stare at the wall. Rarely, Levi will sit on the other end of my room playing some mobile game in silence. In return I throw the softest pillows at him. It's the little things. 

I'm thankful for the quiet that settles over the house in the early hours of the morning. Nothing but ticking clocks, mice, and the occasional sound of Beelzebub rummaging through the fridge. 

Sometimes, when I'm sure I won't get caught, I force my aching joints into motion so I can venture outside. I don't really go anywhere. I just find somewhere to sit. Enjoying the silence. 

Foggy nights are my favorite. When the air is heavy and mist wraps around me like a weighted blanket. Moonlight illuminates nearby spiderwebs. I like watching the tiny creatures run around. It's peaceful.

Out in the night air, sometimes I think about just how absurd my life has become in just a few months. 

It seems just yesterday I got that stupid letter. 

Congratulations!

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the Royal Academy of Diavolo.

Please return this letter with your signature to confirm your participation.

We are looking forward to welcoming you as part of our new exchange program.

Yours sincerely,

Diavolo

Waking up in a room full of demons was, at the time, definitely in the running for the weirdest thing to happen to me.  

After hitting my head on a table, I stood with all the grace of a newborn deer. Despite the irritating phone call, a dramatic and very handsy demon,  one who nonchalantly mentions he might cannibalize me, and a dude literally named Satan.... I did my best to go along with the chaos. I had thought.  "Well, if this isn't a hallucination, then I don't exactly have a choice in the matter." Plus, the free tuition thing is pretty sick. 

The first week was a blur. Wake up. Go to class. Put up with shenanigans. Sleep. Repeat. At some point I make a pact with the Avatar of Greed. Normal university things. 

It's the first serious brush with death that really made me think hmmm maybe "fuck it, we ball" isn't how I should proceed. After a trivia battle gone wrong, Mammon lectured me while bandaging an injured wrist. About halfway through I finally stopped disassociating. 

"Holy shit he could've killed me." That astute observation had earned me an eye roll from the second born. 

"I just said that! Weren't you listening? More trouble than your worth...." he goes off again. Honestly, I wasn't really paying attention.  

The next few days, I kept to myself, jumping at every sound. 

Eventually, Levithan corners me after class. 

"If I make a pact with you will you stop sulking? It's weird."  

I almost refused. Almost. Common sense kicked in and I came to a realization. If a pact can make Mammon call me my name, as opposed to "annoying" or "human" or "annoying human"... Maybe this is how I'll survive the year. Surely the more powerful demons I have bound to me, the safer things will be. 

"Deal."

Man… if you had told me back then I'd learn to love the very same unsettling creatures who kidnapped me…. Honestly I'm not even sure that this isn't some strange case of stockholm syndrome. Or the fact I'm now some sort of vampire? Anyways, I'd think you were crazy. Oh how times change. 

Some time later I'm escorted to the Demon Lord's Castle. Honestly, I feel like hot garbage but Lucifer insists that there is very important business I need to be present for. No amount of arguing makes him budge. Fortunately for me it's the middle of the night since even the weak otherworldly light in the Devildom causes major skin irritation. Despite the total lack of a sun. No amount of SPF can save me. 

I must be a sight to see. Sweaty, and tripping over everything. Both the artificial and candlelight so bright I can hardly think. It's best to keep my eyes closed as much as possible.

I'm grateful neither Diavolo or Barbatos comment on the state I'm in. 

I'm dragged along through more corridors than I can count. Eventually ending up in the dungeons...wait what? 

I try not to hyperventilate. I probably fail. It is kind of hard not to panic when you can hear the screams and pleading of tortured souls. The uncharacteristic silence from the chaotic demons just fuels my fear. What the fuck. Am I being arrested? For self defense? Or destruction of property? No way. That can't be it. I nearly draw blood due to my newfound habit of chewing my lip with the single fang occupying my mouth.

We stop outside a dark cell. Down here my eyes can actually adjust. At least I can see again. That said, maybe I'd rather not see the cobblestone walls stained with blood from who knows how many individuals. Will mine join them?

Behind bars, there's a hunched figure. They look up as we approach, through a mop of tangled green hair. The pointed teeth protruding from their mouth make me realize. Oh. They're like...me. 

"Alaura," a gloved hand lands on my shoulder making me jump. "All you need to do is identify this...pest, as your attacker and we can go home." Part of me is so incredibly relieved. The other part is pissed. 

Uh, yeah, not happening. How the fresh fuck would they expect me to confirm or deny that this dude tried to kill me. I didn't see shit. 

I lift my head enough to glare at Lucifer. And inform him once again, I saw nothing. 

Blah blah blah, "I took that into consideration however..." screwing my eyes shut, I shake my head. 

"Dude, can you shut up? I feel like shit. And really, who cares if they killed me I'm already dead! Undead. Whatever!"

Fuck. I'm so dizzy I can't tell up from down. I stumble a bit before Beelzebub reaches out to steady me. I push him away in favor of supporting my weight against a nearby wall. 

After catching my breath I continue my rant.  "I mean if anyone should be in prison it's that shady brother of yours who started this all. I mean I wouldn't be in this situation if he didn't try to fuckin kill me!" I'm hysterical at this point but I don't care. I've started and I can't stop. This is the most I've spoken in days. Every word left unsaid is spilling out. 

"And how can you call that place my home?! You kidnapped me, threatened my life, promised to keep me safe, threatened me again..."

My vision blurs once again. I hear footsteps backing away. Good. Part of me doesn't want to be angry. But I can't deal with their shit today.

"You all let me DIE!"

The ringing is stronger now and I can barely breathe. Wow, the floor is alot closer now. 

A new voice joins the mix. One that sounds nearly as broken as I feel. 

"When, might I ask, is the last time you morons fed the fledgling?" 

 Now that everyone has their attention on the cell, I can see past the wall of demons well enough to watch the other vampire get up, angry gesturing punctuates his words. 

When no one responds, he continues on ranting, bloodshot eyes illuminated by the torchlight. I suppose fire sets the mood for being skinned alive much better than any electricity ever could. 

"Of course! You couldn't pour piss from a boot with instructions on the heel! For the love of Christ someone get my stash-- which is from a consenting donor so don't get any ideas-- and feed the poor thing!" 

It's almost comical how he orders the demons around. Even more funny is the fact they listen. Running around like chickens with their heads cut off. The fact my vision is still swimming, making it look like there's two of everything only adds to the hilarity. 

I laugh to myself and close my eyes, trying to make the room stop spinning. In no time, someone is kneeling down beside me. 

"Take this." It's Barbatos. He hands me a glass of what, for the sake of my last shred of sanity, I tell myself is cranberry juice. Obviously I am skeptical.

I can do this. If Solomon can eat his own cooking and survive I can have some... juice. Bottoms up. Within seconds the liquid is gone. Honestly, it's not as bad as I feared. Oddly metallic. The texture is all wrong. It felt like it shouldn't shouldn't be room temperature. But it's something I guess I will get used to. Eventually. Not like I have a choice. 

A hand reaches to take the empty glass and there's a sound like an angry cat. When everyone stares at me in shock I can only assume I made that noise. 

Barbatos holds up his hands in defeat, stepping back. 

Now it's Asmo's turn to crouch down.  "Alaura, hon, we'll get you some more once this is all over 'Kay? You'll be much more comfy at home. Plus, it's so musty down here, don't you agree?" 

I shrug. "What else is there to say. I didn't see anything. End of story." 

Finally, Diavolo speaks up. Voice hoarse, almost like he'd been crying. Strange.

"It seems further investigation will be required. My deepest apologies for wasting your time." 

"Excuse me, did anyone think to ask me about this crime you accuse me of? I suppose you don't need intelligence to run a kingdom these days..."

Lucifer is quick to offend, despite the fact the insults are clearly directed to Diavolo. Actually that's probably why. 

"Why you little--"

"Lucifer, that won't be necessary." A sharp glare from the Prince silences him. 

"Saturday night you were unaccounted for. That same night one of my exchange students is violently attacked by a vampire. You are the only vampire I have any recollection of being here in decades. Otis, explain yourself." 

The vampire,  Otis, squares his shoulders. Which isn't that intimidating since he looks like he has one foot in the grave, but, hey! He certainly looks less meek when he isn't sitting on the damp ground.

"If you took the time beforehand to extend this... courtesy, you would know I spent the evening visiting an old friend. The other exchange student." His words drip with venom. 

"Solomon can prove your innocence? You are willing to bet your freedom and your life on the sorcerer?" 

"I am." 

With that, Lord Diavolo sends his faithful butler to fetch the local wizard. Unfortunately, no one thinks hey! Maybe we should send Alaura back home! so I'm stuck waiting around. Yay.

On the bright side, when Barbatos returns he brings more… juice. Otis seems like he might find the strength to break through the metal bars and fight me for it. 

After a very awkward conversation in which Solomon reminds everyone Diavolo is literally a walking lie detector, finally, things are settled. Otis is cleared of any charges, and, most importantly, at least to my life, I can be hauled back to the House of Lamentation. Fucking finally.