#please let me know if any of these seem interesting

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister)?

AN: I’ve had this idea for a while but after hearing “The Prophecy” on The Tortured Poets Department I was finally feeling inspired to write it. You guys have no idea how much that album is about to influence my writing. Also I have no idea how this is gonna end lol.

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right? 

Warnings: smut, unrequited love, situationship, fluff, Lucien is literally and angel I love him sm, did not edit (I am tired)

Word count: 3734

“Please, I've been on my knees. Change the prophecy. Don't want money just someone who wants my company…”

I had known the youngest Vanserra for a while now. I can recall the first time I met him on a lovely day  in the spring court when I was visiting with my brother. The man was more than charming, his words nearly had me buckling at the knees. It was around the same time that I had found out that my brother's close friend Azriel was my mate.

I remember the bond snapping like it was yesterday. We were celebrating solstice in the Hewn City and my feet were nearly black and blue from the amount of drunk men stepping on them while dancing. I was about to ask my brother to take me home when Azriel stepped in and quite literally swept me off my feet. He let me stand on his toes and waltz around the room with him all night to ensure that he himself wouldn’t hurt my feet. At some point in the night the bond snapped and I had never been so happy. 

Azriel and I had been friends for over 100 years and I had secretly harbored feelings for him for at least 75 of them. To have my brother's best friend as my mate felt like fate. I didn’t tell him that night, something I have regretted for the last 400 years. 

Not long after that he rescued Mor and any sparks I thought he felt with me that night were long gone. From that day on all he did was pine for her. I couldn’t blame him, Mor was astonishingly beautiful. For a long time after he saved her I resented her, I felt like she had taken my mate from me. It wasn’t until I realized that she wanted nothing to do with the shadowsinger that my hatred for my cousin dissipated. It wasn’t her fault that Azriel was so smitten with her. It was my fault for not telling him, but now it had been so long since the bond snapped that it seemed weird to bring it up.  

So I sat dutifully by his side whenever  he needed someone to rant to about Mor. It practically ripped out my heart to  hear him talk about how in love with her he was. I was the only person he would open up to like that.  He would spend hours asking me for advice on how to woo her, and I grinned and bore it because, at the end of the day, I got to spend time with him.

I had been playing the girl best friend for hundreds of years. The moment I started to feel like he might be losing feelings for Mor in walked Elain. The beautiful sister of my brother's mate. What's worse? She seemed interested in Azriel as well. 

Elain was easy to hate. Not just for her flirtations with Azriel but for the way she treated Lucien, her mate. Lucien had so much love for the Archeron, and she waved him off without another thought. I might be able to understand her reluctance to accept the bond if Lucien was a brute of a male, but he wasn’t. He was soft, kind and easy on the eyes.

I found him tossing rocks into the Sidra one day, no doubt pining over how Elain had barley even acknowledged the flowers he picked for her. That’s when I told him about Azriel and I’s bond. From that moment on we spent a great deal of time together, ranting about our unaccepted mating bonds. Even though we spent most of the time bitching, there was happiness. More than I had felt in a while. 

Then starfall came…and everything changed. 

“You look far too stunning not to be walking in with a date,” Lucien drawled to me from the outside of the townhouse. 

I had spent all day getting ready for the annual party tonight. My dress was chosen specifically to catch Azriel’s attention, not that I felt like I would succeed. 

“Well finding a date is harder than you think, especially at this hour,” I laugh as I walk through the gate he opened for me. 

“Then indulge me,” he said. I turned to find him offering me an arm. 

“You want to be my date?” I laugh light heartedly, admittedly smitten by the autumn court male. 

“It’s a little last minute but I would be honored to walk into that room with you on my arm,” he said fondly. 

I smiled and shook my head at the male before looping my  arm in his and allowing him to lead me up the steps to the front door. 

“You know, you clean up pretty well Lu,” I cock an eyebrow bumping into him. 

“Thanks, your brother sets a pretty high standard as far as attire for this thing. Who knew he was such a fashionista?” Lucien grins before walking in the door arm and arm with me. I don’t even bother stifling the laugh I let out. 

The room nearly fell silent at our entrance. Sure Lucien and I were close and everyone knew, but they had never seen us like this. Even Az and Elain stopped their oh so intriguing conversation to ogle. I swore I saw anger flit across Elain’s eyes, like she was dead set on owning both Az and Lucien. 

Lucien and I spent the evening as wallflowers, doing our best to stay away from all the happy couples. We had even gotten to the point where we grabbed a bottle of wine off the table and brought it over to our couch, both of us tired of constantly getting up and down for refills. 

It wasn’t until Az and Elain not so subtly got up and walked onto the balcony that we decided we had tortured ourselves enough. We promptly grabbed the bottle of wine and waltzed out of the townhouse not even bothering to say goodbye. I supposed it was that exact bottle that did us in. 

I placed my hand on my apartment door, swaying slightly from the alcohol rushing to my head. Lucein’s hand found my hip, steadying me. While I assured him I would be fine to walk home alone, he insisted he came with me. 

“Thanks,” I laughed unlocking the door. 

“You’re welcome,” he chuckles, wobbling himself. 

“I had a really good time with you tonight,” I say, placing a hand on his chest to steady myself.

“I had a good time too,” he smiled. 

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how close we were. Lucien looked down at me, the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. The sudden tension between us was broken when he crashed his lips on mine. 

One thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was lying bare beneath him as he fucked me like his life depended on it. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to get laid until he was buried inside me. Needless to say I understood why people said the Autumn Court males have fire in their blood. 

That was a year ago and since then Lucien and I had decided to continue seeing each other in secret, both of us needing a way to release built up tension so to say. He often stayed the night and we would spend long hours talking about everything from the books we were reading to politics. The sex was amazing, for both of us, but it was the intimacy that came after that I think we both craved the most. An intimacy I would be seeking out shortly given the current topic of conversation between Azriel and I. 

“Gods the other day she was weaning a light blue dress in the garden and I nearly fell to my knees before her,” Azriel ranted to me. 

He had been going on and on about whether or not he wanted to finally make a move on Elain or not. And as his best friend I had to hear about every word of it.

“I saw it, it was a very pretty dress,” I acknowledge, turning the page of the book I was reading. 

“I swear she blushed when I complimented it too, I think I’m making progress with her,” he went on to say. 

“Maybe you should just put yourself out of your misery and talk to her Az,” I suggested for probably the tenth time. 

“You know I can’t just barrel in there. She’s scared and I’m not going to freak her out even more. She will come to me when she’s ready. If she’s ready. Gods that’s assuming she even likes me,” he rambled. 

I roll my eyes and shut my book so loudly it pulls the shadow singers attention. I give him a pointed look that has him startling back just a bit. 

“I know that she likes you Az,” I deadpan. 

“How can you be sure though?” he asks, throwing his head back on the arm of the couch. 

“Because she would be an idiot not to,” I say with a hint of sadness. 

Azriel looked to be at a loss for words, and I realized my words were much bolder than I had wanted them to be. 

Clearing my throat I set my book down on the side table, knowing it will be waiting for me when I come back to my brother’s tomorrow. I stand and subtly adjust my dress.  

“I have to go, but seriously Az, just tell her,” I say walking over to press a kiss to his forehead. 

As I got to walk away I feel him grab my hand, placing a kiss to my open palm, “Thank you for listening y/n, really.” he says earnestly . 

“Don’t worry  about it Az, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say with a fake smile before setting off towards my modest home. 

When Feyre moved into the townhouse I took it as my queue to move out, knowing my brother and his new mate would want privacy. Of course Rhysand offered me mansions and villas but I was content with a townhouse of my own in the middle of town. Big enough to have my own home library, and small enough to not feel so lonely. 

I make my way down the cobblestone streets, the faelights casting a warm glow on the ground before me. It was late, and many couples were turning in for the night. I could see some cuddled up on their sofa’s through their windows, others were having a nightcap together outside Rita’s. I saw a couple rocking their newborn baby to sleep on the second floor of their home, and for some reason, that was the one that hurt the most to me.

I sighed as I walked up a few steps to my townhouse door. I unlocked the door and was greeted to the smell of jasmine and vanilla and the sound of a cracking fire. I walk up my steps to find Lucien sitting shirtless on my large bed, his hair in a bun at the nape of his neck. The male was the image of relaxation. 

I had given him a key months ago. With the males many jobs, emissary to the night court, ally to Jurian and Vassa,  and liaison to Tamlin, he needed a place to truly call home. For the past 9 months that had been here, with me. I never once objected to his subtle moving in, it was nice to come home to someone waiting for me, sometimes even a homemade meal. For him it was nice to have a  place where he didn’t always have to put on a front. It was a win for both of us. 

“When did you get in?” I ask kicking off my shoes. 

“Just a couple hours ago. How was Azriel duty?” he asked, setting his book down as I began to strip off my cloak and dress leaving me only in my lingerie. It wasn’t uncommon for us to be so casual with one another. 

“Exhausting, did you know that Elain wore a pretty blue dress the other day?” I mocked tossing my clothes into a dirty clothes bin, I noticed his missing shirt was there too.

“Unfortunately yes I did,” he chuckled. “You know what always makes me feel better though?” he smirks. 

“I crawl up the bed towards him, “What?” I smile knowing what the answer will be. 

“You,” he smirks, grabbing my hips and pinning me to the mattress beneath him, his lips pressing to mine. 

“How funny I was about to say the same thing,” I laugh, feeling his lips tickle my neck as he makes his way further down my body. 

His mouth trails the inside of my thighs before sliding my panties down my legs, each brush of his fingers from my hips to my ankles feeling like heaven. The male had been gone for a week, and I was desperate for release. He licks a long stripe up my center, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves at the top. My back arches off the bed and his hands find my waist to pin me down. I feel his tongue begin to lap at my clit as his fingers slide into me, no doubt finding the pool of wetness waiting there. 

This is what me and Lu had always been good at, reading each other. When he had a stressful day  I always made sure to make him feel good, and when I came back to the house upset he never hesitated to get on his knees for me. There was this unsaid rule that we would always take care of eachother. 

Lucien’s tongue continues lapping my clit as his fingers curl to hit that spot inside of me that had me gasping for air. As I started to feel myself getting closer and closer he removed his mouth from me, drawing his fingers out slowly. One thing about hooking up for a year? You learn to read each other's bodies, and lord did the seventh son of Autumn know how to read mine. 

“Lu!” I cry out frustrated. 

“Shhh my darling,” he coos crawling up my body. “I simply want to cum with you tonight.” he smirked, seething himself inside of me. 

“Oh gods!” I cry feeling him fill me thoroughly. 

He pulls out and thrusts back in causing me to whimper once more. Mor was right about one thing, the autumn court males have fire in their blood and they fuck like it too. 

“I missed you, missed this,” Lucien groans, his face contorted in pleasure as he builds a steady pace. 

“I missed you too Lu,” I say through ragged breaths as he fucks into me like his life depends on it. Apparently the time apart made him needy as well. 

I could hardly speak as he thrust deeper into me, his hands on my waist holding me steady so tha he could hit me as deep as possible. When I felt myself start to clench around him he doubled over, burying his head in my neck as his hips continued to snap into me.

My hands found his back clinging to the flesh there for an anchor, my walls fluttering around him one last time before I fell apart.The sudden sensation had Lucien biting my neck as he came with a low groan. 

We spent a few moments catching our breaths, he pushed up on his arms and moved a stray hair from my face, assessing to see if he had hurt me, just like he always did.  When he found no traces of pain in my face he rolled over, taking me with him so that I was lying on his chest. 

This was always the part I think we both craved the most. The sex was great, amazing even. But I longed for a pair of arms to fall asleep in, and he longed for someone to hold. Meaningless pillowtalk just for fun.

“I mean it, I did miss you,” I sigh circling my arms around his waist. 

“I missed you too, I hate sleeping in the spring court, it’s so cold and dark there now.” Lucien said, staring at the ceiling. 

“How is Tamlin?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Terrible,” he muttered. “I had to talk him into letting me stay.”  He continues playing with the ends of my hair. 

“You’re a good friend for checking in on him though,” I say matter of factly. 

“I still wish I could do more,” he sighs, pulling the covers up on the two of us.

“I understand,” I mutter keeping my head on his chest, staring at the fire that roars next to us. 

A long beat of comfortable silence passes, normally I would fall asleep like this. I would sometimes wake to him being gone, sometimes he would wake to me being gone. Only on weekends would both be able to wake up and go to breakfast together. This was one of those weekends, but instead of falling asleep, Lucien spoke up. 

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, not taking his gaze from the ceiling. 

“Sure,” I reply, waiting for a nonchalant inquiry. It wasn’t the first time he and I had played 20 questions to get to know each other more, though I thought that after a year of it we knew just about everything there was to know about the other. 

“Would you agree that Azriel and Elain are never going to give us a chance?” he asked. 

My heart twinges hearing his name, “Well Az doesn’t know, but even if he did I don’t think he would care. I’m not damsel in distress enough for him.” I snort recalling the unconscious type he has.

“I feel the same about Elain, and there’s something I’ve been thinking about, especially this past week,” he continues still facing the ceiling. 

I prop my head up on his chest wanting to read his face and his eyes flit to me, “Cryptic Vanserra, but go on,” I laugh trying to break the tension. 

“I’ve always been fond of you y/n ever since you visited the spring court all those years ago. Now that I’ve gotten to know you, that admiration has only grown, not to mention you’re a very beautiful female y/n,” he laughs at his own words, a tint of pink dusting his cheek and I can’t help but blush as well. “From the amount of time we’ve been spending together it seems you like me enough, and well…I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he says seemingly avoiding his main point. 

I sit up more, intrigued by his words, “What do you mean Lu?” I inquire. 

“I was wondering if you would like to be Mrs. Lucien Vanserra?” he finally says and my heart nearly stops at the shocking words. “I know I’m not Azriel, but consider me an alternative. I think we could make eachother genuinely happy, maybe help each other enjoy whatever we have left of this miserable life?” he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. 

I let his words sink in as I stare at the bit of wall behind him. As I consider all that he’s said I realize that he’s right, we do get along. I had spent years trying to find a male to fill the hole Azriel put in my  life, but it always felt wrong. It was as if I was taking someone else’s mate, even when the males didn’t have mates.  It didn’t feel wrong being with Lucien because I knew that his mate also didn’t want anything to do with him. 

I was tired of not always having someone to come home to. Not having someone to go to events with. Not having someone to spend holidays with. Not having someone to call my own. I was tired of being alone, especially since I had been alone for about 400 years, but no longer. 

I smile down at Lucien’s nervous face, “I would be honored to be your wife,” I say. 

“You would?” he beams. 

“I would,” I repeated back to him. “You’re right, we do get along, and I’m tired of being alone too.” 

He presses his lips to mine, both of us smiling into the kiss. We would never fill the sadness of a rejected mating bond, but we would be there for one another. I lay my  head down on his chest again, feeling the sleep come into my eyes. 

“How should we do it?” he asked, tracing shapes on my bare back.

“Hmm,” I thought for a moment. A big wedding seemed odd considering we weren’t mates or anything close to it. Eloping seemed more proper. “I think we should keep it small.”

“Do we tell them?” He ponders the most awkward question.

“We can tell them, but we don’t need to invite them. It can be a modified elopement, they will all know but we can just invite my brother and Feyre, that way we both have family there.” I answer snuggling into his warmth more. 

“By the Cauldron I have to tell your brother I’ve been sleeping with you for over a year,” Lucien said anxiously, running a hand down his face. 

I can’t help but laugh at his stress, “He might be a little mad, but I’m sure Feyre will be so excited about it that he won’t care.” I giggle. 

I feel his body relax under my cheek, no doubt realizing that whatever the High Lady says will be law. He slides a red and gold ring off his pinky finger and slips it onto my left hand. 

“Here, it’s a family ring,” he explains looking at the gaudy ring on  my hand. While it fits on my finger well the jewel on it takes up my whole hand and looks unnatural. “I know I’m not part of the Autumn Court anymore but it’s all I have.” he continues.

“It’s perfect,” I laugh, inspecting the ill-fitting thing, “it’s an outcast just like us.”

Lucien's soft chuckle escapes him as he plants a gentle kiss atop my head. Tomorrow promises its usual dose of chaos, but that's a concern for another day. Tonight, here in bed with my fiancé, though this isn't the life I envisioned, I find myself flooded with a happiness I haven't felt in ages.

part 2?

Want to have a say in who the reader ends up with? VOTE IN THE POLL!

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202

#lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #lucien vandaddy #lucien vanserra x you #lucien vanserra x elain archeron #lucien x elain #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel smut #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x reader smut #feyre acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand acotar #cassian acotar #rhysand x feyre #feysand #feyre archeron

[ready-to-obeyme]

look my way

Sometimes, Lucifer wishes you weren't so popular as you are. You would think it's the other way around.

Lucifer x Reader, gender-neutral, pre-relationship, fluff

Word Count: <1k

-

Diavolo would be rather pleased to know you are making friends outside of the seven demon brothers. His vision of peace among the three realms seems more of a reality when a human can play among common angels and lesser demons without fear of retribution or danger. Lucifer would commend you as well, for Diavolo's goals are his own and you are technically under his care-- but he finds you a tad too trusting for your own good, even if it is one of the redeeming qualities that make you popular in the Devildom.

And you are-- popular, despite your modest denials and deflections of "you're much more popular, Lucifer."

Lucifer sees you the way others do. Your friendliness is what makes you well-liked, your indiscriminatory manner of treating others endearing. But it is that soul of yours and a heart that does not falter that makes you popular. Desireable-- though he doubts any demon would dare present themselves in that way to you, not with how closely you stay next to him.

Lucifer can't say he isn't pleased with this, both with your evident affection for him and the wide berth other demons give you when they see him approach. He has no qualms in fighting to get what he wants, but it feeds on his pride that no one would dare challenge him.

But still... it is only a testament on how much he has grown attached to you that he sees you-- eyes fond, smile wide in the direction of others-- and feels a hot flare of jealousy despite himself. Though, if he were truly being honest with himself, he had never been one to share, even when he was an angel.

"You're quite the popular one," Lucifer tells you as he walks you home, and he wants to bite his cheek for voicing his feelings outloud to you, the only source of his bittersweet uncertainty.

.

"There's no one else," you say, and you turn your head quickly away, eyes determinedly forward even though you spot Lucifer look at you curiously.

"Pardon?" He asks, amusement in his tone.

"You're the popular one between the two of us," you blurt out. "I haven't been with anyone for the past few years or so, some years from choice but others... it just hadn't worked out."

You look down at your feet, wondering if there exists a plane below even the Devildom to swallow you whole. But still, it seemed important now to tell Lucifer in the moment, so you speak; it does well for you most of the time. "So you're the only one. The only one that matters."

Lucifer scoffs. "You are popular." You hear his tone soften, and it makes the tendrils of your heart curl in pleasure. "They'd be a fool not to notice how sweetly you treat others."

"I guess when you compare me to a demon, of course," you tease. "And even then, it isn't romantic."

And then you begin to wonder: how many lovers must Lucifer have taken? For how long? Any history of yours would pale in comparison, but especially so, because it is Lucifer. You are certain that even pride and arrogance cannot be strong enough of a deterrent for others to pursue someone as beautiful and talented as Lucifer.

"I see," Lucifer says, and you look at him, confused. You see the tell-tale smirk on his face before you hear his teasing comment. "So you wish to be fawned over as a romantic interest? Coveted as a lover by many?" He takes your hand into his, and before you can instinctively pull away, Lucifer presses a kiss onto your hand.

Your face prickles with how quickly it warms.

"Well," you mumble, looking away, "maybe just by one demon." You let your hand be manipulated until his palm is flat against yours. His fingers are much longer than yours-- his entire hand is, really-- that they envelope yours in its entirety. It's the only coherent thought at the moment; you can only think about how Lucifer is the one holding your hand.

"Good," he tells you, and his smile is pleased, a little smug if you know him well enough. "No other demon could compare, so there is no use in trying."

You let out a laugh, the comment so representative of the Avatar of Pride. It should be off-putting, his arrogance, but you can only admire it, and even at the worst of times, agree with it. And at the best of times, you adore it, especially when you know how little pride matters when it comes to his brothers.

"You're right," you say before Lucifer thinks your laughter means you believe otherwise. "Even if there was, you're still the only one that matters to me, Lucifer."

"Naturally," he says, but you see his ears pink at your words. He grips your hand tighter when you pass by a triad of demons, pulling you subtly closer to him. You hear a titter of laughter trailing after the two of you, and you wonder if they are talking about the two of you-- demon of pride and human-- walking hand in hand. You wonder if Lucifer is proud to have you at his side.

(Perhaps one day he will tell you himself.)

#obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me x reader #may change format when i get home #but i banged this out and needed it outta my hands #CUZ I LOVE HIM. EVEN IF HE DIDNT COME HOME 😭😭😭

[snowdropluck204]

A Date With Death - Spencer Reid x Unsub Fem! Reader

Hi my lovelies! After a lot of people seemed interested in this story, namely a few that commented who I am tagging below! If anyone wants to be tagged in these chapters from now on, let me know! I am going to try and plan this out okay, I'll post a separate post with the release dates of the chapters! With that! Enjoy!

Also, I'm a Brit writing about America... Specifically Colorado! So if there is anyone from there that would be willing to help me, please do!

Tag List: @vexis-world @inexplicableeee @flowercrownsandtrauma

TW: Murder, gore, blood, vomit, mentions of rapists, pedophiles, abuse, y/n being mistaken for male.

Spencer pov

The BAU hadn't had a case like this for a while...

This case had gotten media attention across the country, further even. All because this unsub was doing things that many a soul had thought about, hell even acted upon, the difference between their unsub and the average person, is that he was getting away with it.

For the last month, bodies had been cropping up all over Denver, Colorado, all with the same MO. People, both men and women, had been found dead in different locations, the only things that the victims had in common were the ways they were killed and that they were all once convicted of a crime. These crimes have ranged from rape, domestic abuse, paedophilia and stalking, but each of the victims had been killed using three consecutive methods.

As the car arrived at the scene of the crime, the body being found outside his own home, I wasn't massively shocked to see the crowd of media representatives surrounding the scene, I was a little perturbed to see a separate crowd of protesters.

"How many of them are there?" I asked confused, "God the street is crawling with them!" Morgan nodded from beside me, as we both stepped out of the car. Hotch grumbled under his breath, "Clearly the local cops didn't secure the area very well." The reporters seemed to have noticed us, we weren't exactly inconspicuous in our suits and sunglasses, but we still flashed the badge, asking them to move as politely as we could.

Immediately we were swarmed, questions being fired at us left and right, "Do you have any idea who was behind this killing?" "What is being done to keep this community safe?" "Why has it taken this long for the FBI to become involved?"

We tried to answer as many as we could without giving away too much of the investigation, including how little had been discovered so far. The police here had no leads, so we were working off of very little, and, until we had analysed the crime scene, we had no working profile of the unsub to make up a suspect list. This was square one...

Morgan walked over to the protesters, myself following close behind, they were all carrying banners or picket signs, they each read various forms of propaganda, 'He's Saving Lives', 'Let Him Live', 'Grim Will Save US.' I tilted my head as we walked closer to the crowd. Derek very clearly hadn't assessed the situation as strongly...

"Don't you worry folks, we'll have this guy behind bars soon!" He called out, trying to get the group to leave peacefully, only to get angry faces and practically being spat at.

"Why? He's doing what our government is too scared to do now! I say let him go!" A woman cried, beginning a chant of, 'Let Him Go.' The chanting became louder, Hotch began seeming more nervous as they advanced. He turned to shout over his shoulder at the local police.

"Can you hold them back please?" At the authority in his voice, the cops quickly rushed to attention, herding Morgan and myself into the front yard. The crime scene.

The body had been placed, almost gently, into the flowerbed in the front yard, some of the blood that decorated his body had even been mopped up. "Do we have an ID on the victim yet?" I asked Hotch, receiving a negative, apparently the neighbours knew of the victim, knew that he lived here, but rarely spoke to him and didn't know his name, so I crouched down to see what we were working with.

This victim's demise, also followed the same MO of the last seven victims the unsub had killed. Each of the victims before this one, had been killed with three separate methods, asphyxiation, the throat was slit and then the victim was garroted. "Reid." Hotch asked from behind me, I turned to look at him, showing him he had my attention, "What have we got?"

I looked back to the body, fiddling with the gloves on my hands, "The victim seems to have been killed in the same methods of the unsub's MO, it's called the threefold death, it's a religious method of killing going as far back as Druid-Irish folklore. The threefold death obviously entailed a person being killed three separate times, in this case, asphyxiation, a form of stabbing and then a mixture of the two... It was said that this method of death was saved and used as a punishment for those who didn't deserve to die only once..." I told them, trying to be as concise as possible.

Hotch nodded, whilst Morgan began taking a closer look at the garrote around the man's neck. Each of the previous victims had been convicted of a crime, violent and sometimes sexual in nature. Each of the garrotes used seemed to be personalised, a single word scratched roughly into the wooden handle of them, this garrote in particular had the word, 'ABUSER' carved into the grain of the wood.

Morgan pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear, "Babygirl, newest victim apparently has a history of abuse or domestic violence, can you work your magic?"

I focused back on the body.

Like all the previous victims, the body was as clean as the unsub could get it, he seemed to have cleaned up any blood that pooled on the skin, before laying them to rest, in an almost respectful manner. Laid flat on their backs, hands and arms crossed over their torso, with a single white lily laced delicately between their fingers. The only thing that didn't seem as respectful, was the plastic bag tired around their face, using the same garrote that was used to kill them. I decided to speak up my thoughts to Hotch.

"The unsub almost seems to have feelings of remorse, the funeral like way of displaying the bodies is another part of his signature, strange for what we would assume is just a spree killer, it's more likely that he was targeting these people, or that there was an extreme trigger involved.

"The white lily represents the transience of life and the emotions of grief and mourning, also strange for your average serial killer. There is the possibility that the unsub knew his victims before he killed them... That could prove that he has anti-social personality disorder, he's trying to replicate an emotion he has seen around death, like copying the process of mourning at a funeral." I finished, even I felt confused...

Hotch nodded along, before the three of us walked over to the front door of the victim's home, judging by the track marks through the blood, the victim was murdered in the home and dragged out to the garden. "The unsub must have been surveying the house and the neighbours, because most of them work nights or have late night activities, the victim was found outside his home at around one in the morning. Somehow, the unsub made his way into the home, killed this guy using three separate methods and dragged the body out of the home and positioned it the way he wanted in a small window of about three hours." I told the room.

Hotch nodded, following the trail of blood around the house, leading to a chair in the middle of the kitchen, the kitchen tile had a clear tarp laid over it, the chair on top, both were coated in a thick layer of dried blood, the knife used to slit his throat wasn't at the scene, so the unsub still had it...

(y/n) pov

The sting in my throat and eyes was horrid as I retched into the toilet bowl, the tears running down my face were falling hot and fast. Eventually, the vomiting stopped, I took a deep breath, now that I could, I flushed the toilet and shuddered.

I stood up, my legs shaking, almost buckling underneath me, I stumbled my way to the sink, looking up I saw myself in the mirror, the blood spattered across my face, my arms, my hands. My eyes were different to how they used to be, they were clouded by this grief, this agony I didn't know how to get rid of anymore. The colour was faded, the whites were blemished with deep red veins and my pupils were so dilated, so scared. Memories of the night flashed behind my eyes.

I was walking slowly, stalking forward, making my way to the front door of the house. I'd been watching the house for the last few weeks, he was a monster. Beat his previous wives, now he was alone. Beat his children, now he wasn't allowed to see them. The bastard was too scary for those poor women and children to keep charging him with the abuse, so now he was a free man...

Once I got to the door, I smiled seeing the electronic lock, I pressed a small device to the side of the lock, hearing a small buzz before the door clacked open. Taking my time, both so as not to alert my target and also partially dreading what I was about to do, I pushed open the front door, sneaking through the hallways, until I found the kitchen. The pig was drunk, he hadn't been home longer than half an hour, and he was almost passed out wasted, beer bottles lying around where he was sat on the couch, staring listlessly at the television.

I wobbled over to the shower, flinging back the curtain, my head reeling, I waddled carefully in, trying not to slip. I turned the shower head on, full blast, almost blistering hot, and began to scrub at my skin as hard as I possibly could. The water ran off of me in dark red waves, before they faded to pink and then clear. Once all the bloody water was sucked down the drain, I finally began to relax, which was a mistake.

I slunk up to the guy, leaning behind him before pulling out a plastic bag, the crunching sound of the bag alerted him. He turned and met my face, hidden by a mask, a cheap, crappy masquerade mask, a candy skull, hiding my face. A flash of realisation on James' face made me fear he had recognised me, instead, he began to stutter. "You're h-him, aren't you? The k-killer, t-the Reaper?" He whimpered. Coward. I leapt forward, wrapping the bag around his face and pulling.

I curled myself into the corner of the shower floor, the hot water making me more dizzy and in a deeper haze as tears filled my eyes.

"Please..." He kept begging, pleaded with me to spare his life as he tried to rock himself back and forth in the chair he was now tied to, "I'm sorry! I haven't gone near my family since the restraining order!" He shrieked, the most pathetic sounding noise. I almost spat at him, "Then your a liar as well as a beater." I growled, once he heard my voice, he realised that I wasn't the guy everyone was thinking of. "You're a pathetic excuse of human life, weak. You target the people who you're supposed to care for, children, your own wife." I snarled, stalking forward with a small, but extremely sharp, hunting knife.

The blood went everywhere, the walls, David James' face and clothes, the floor, me. The smell was metallic and bitter, it made me feel vile, hideous, tainted.

He was gasping, struggling for breath as I wrapped the bag around his face again, pulled out the garrote, bound the bag taut around his neck and began twisting, the wire digging painfully into the deep gash already across his neck. Eventually, he stopped struggling, stopped breathing. I let go of the garrote, the handle provoking me with my own handwriting, PAEDOPHILE. Taunting both David James, the beater and myself. (y/n) (l/n), the reaper.

I placed him in his car, and drove the short while down to the cemetery, I huffed as I pulled James' body out of the trunk, dropping him rather unceremoniously outside the gates, in a patch of half dead grass. I closed his eyes through the plastic bag, crossed his arms over his chest, and threaded a single white lily through his hands. After I had finished, I stood slowly, bowing my head, a moment of silence for the deceased, however undeserved it may be.

I left the shower, the water still dripping off of my body quickly becoming cold. I knew there would be little to no physical evidence that I was at the scene. I shuddered once again, the shiver continuing down my body. I quickly got changed and curled up in my bed, trying to remember who I was doing all of this for...

Spencer pov

After examining the crime scene, we all went back to the station, Garcia's face appearing on the laptop screen as we began to review the case, what we knew so far. Gideon was writing on the whiteboard, pictures of the victims taped to the surface, annotations lining them. Elle was pacing the room, fiddling with a pen as she asked about the scene and, in turn, the unsub.

"The protesters outside, they sounded like they were supporting him, how popular is this unsub?" She asked, Garcia quickly typing up on her computer, finding the information in quick keystrokes.

"Oh, he's huge, most of Denver population believe that he's saving their children and friends, he's only killing off people who were convicted of a crime, there's never any witnesses, never any tips called in. These people believe that the government was wrong to get rid of capital punishment in Colorado, that these people deserved it.

"A lot of people also think that the unsub deserves the death penalty too, but that he's some sort of public figure, he knew the risks and the punishment, but took out those who were a risk to their society. The unsub has a lot of names, The Grim Reaper, Charon, The Wraith, lot of mythological connotations..."

I sat, stuck, staring at the whiteboard. "What's going on in that big, beefy brain?" I heard Garcia ask, I finally looked up at the team, all looking at me worried. I felt my brow furrow further as I stood and walked quickly, over to the board. There were seven victims up on the board, the ones we had found, who knew if there were more. Now there was an eighth.

"None of this makes sense." I murmured, "All of the evidence contradicts itself, we can't make a linear profile of the unsub..." I trailed my hands along the pictures, "The unsub should be someone who shows little to know emotion, but he sets his victims to rest in a nice place, with flowers, almost mourns them. He gruesomely murders his victims with an ancient religious process, only to have no showing of any other religious motif or ritualistic killing.

"They clearly have been watching their victims, their neighbours, their homes, but there is no physical evidence of that! The places the victims are left were proved by relatives to be special to them, so the unsub leaving the bodies there shows some sentiment and that, somehow, the unsub knew them but none of the victims had ever met each other and have no social circles in common with one another!"

I had never felt so frustrated and confused. Hotch patted me on the shoulder as I sat down again, running a hand through my hair. He began a pep talk that always begins the investigation, "True remorse from the unsub might only be capable if they were compelled to commit the killing for reasons unknown to even them, or he's being forced to..."

#cute #love #fanfiction #romance #x reader #comfort #open requests #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x fem!reader

[oblique-lane]

Sniper tf2 mentality

Today I will be talking about Sniper's personality because I often see people portraying him DRASTICALLY different abd I wanted to understand what's going on and why all of the interpretations are correct (in my opinion)

Let's name the most prominent thesises:

Sniper is shy and introverted.

Sniper is unhinged and bloodlusty and is annoyed by people.

Why do i think that these aren't exactly contradictory?

I think at this point it's safe to assume Sniper is autistic (I mean lol this is easier to prove than to disprove). As an autistic person myself, I can see why he could be perceived like that.

Sniper doesn't talk to people and mostly observes them and the situation. Very in tune with his profession. That, however, might be perceived as being shy or very introverted or both. People love talking and expect others to share information, yet Sniper never says half of the things he's thinking about.

But let me tell you, it's NOT because he's shy. If he was shy, it would show in his body language as being stiff and rigid. He's not. His body is pretty relaxed and takes enough space. Still crosses his arms, but in a "don't bother me" way, not a "please don't judge me" way.

He's just disinterested.

I relate to it a lot in real life! People at my job think I'm too shy to talk to them, but no, I just DON'T WANT TO. I'm not scared of any if you, there's just nothing to talk about. I don't know your business, you don't know mine, our interests don't collide. If I talked to you about my interests you wouldn't listen anyway. Small talk? Ew, are y kidding me?

However, I like to listen. I'm an extrovert personally (unexpected huh) so I love being around people, but it doesn't mean I have to takk to them. I'll just sponge the information they are babbling about so I know my community better. When I meet new group of people where everyone knows eachother but me, I'm not going to feel awkward, it's perfectly fine to observe.

Sniper seems to fit into this kind of behaviour too. So he's not shy in a social anxiety sense".

NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT THE BLOODLUST!!

Yeah you all know his in-game voicelines. You feel either horny or assaulted after he rolls these sadistic words on his tongue. Yes I said sadistic, are you gonna argue?

"We professionals don't give speeches we just take a shot" he says in the comics. OH YEAH? IS THAT WHY YOU HAVE THE MOST FUCKING VOICELINES OF ALL OF THEM??

Have you ever noticed how much attention he puts into saying how 'professional' he is? Like, yeah no shit, they all kinda are. But why, unlike other mercs, he insists on calling himself a professional with standards and morals, detached from emotions and feelings, so much???

There's literally no reason to be ashamed of being a killer and to admit that you enjoy killing people, you were hired to Mann Co. for that specifically!!!

My assumption: it's a personal disgust towards himself and his anger issues. I've said it before already and I will again.

His so called 'shadow side' that he suppresses so much. It loves to cause people pain, it loves releasing the inner anger, it is being feral and impulsive in nature. Sniper cannot let himself be like that for whatever reason. He's already built a clear picture of what he is in his head and he doesn't want to destroy that.

The only time he allows himself to be a monster is in the battle because it comes naturally. However, when it's not a situation of adrenaline rush, when people want to talk about his persona face to face, he starts to defend himself and bury his face under the lies he believes in.

And THIS is anxiety. To be scared to be truly perceived. Not like many people tried, but I assume he wouldn't like it.

Bro really thinks he doesn't have feelings lmaoooo imagine being so emotionally immature the only way to process your emotions is to shot a human dead.

So, is Sniper anxious? Yes. Is this social anxiety? No, he's not shy. Is he an unhinged murderer? Yes. Does he identify as one? No. It's really a little bit more complicated than the two thesises from the beginning.

He's a person. Obviously not mentally healthy. High dimensional. Can be potentially broken or healed in terms of a good character study.

I might be very wrong though and most of the assumptions are simply guessing by grasping the patterns, but usually when I analyze someone like thus, it turns out mostly right. But correct me if you feel like it.

#tf2 #tf2 sniper #sniper tf2 #just my rambling #I've been thinking about this mf a little bit too much #He is so NOT self aware #Can anyone see that???? #His childhood traumas were never addressed he's just suppressed them #I wish he had more backstory #Bleh

[another-lost-mc]

Any thoughts on the excerpt from Michael’s diary on Nightbringer’s Chapter A gacha page?

Okay. 😂 Normally I would've saved this for tomorrow, but I was working on a Michael smut fic in another tab and since I have no self control, here I am.

Anyway, I don't think I've talked about this before. I was so fixated on that little snippet when NB first came out, and I’m still trying to decide what interpretation of it I like most.

Please note that I write Michael a particular way and have a lot of personal headcanons that shape the Michael/Celestial Realm lore we don't have knowledge of, so that is going to skew my interpretation a bit. (If you're asking me about Michael, I'm guessing you're already fine with that.)

I'm being half-serious here, but without any sort of tone indicator, the way this is worded seems rather...ominous? It doesn't sound positive, not if we look at the language and the imagery it evokes.

You may have changed

This sounds like something you'd say to someone who's trying to argue, "You don't know me!" and you're like, "Um, yes I do."

a great river still flows and swells within you

Part of my personal headcanons for angels is that they have a natural affinity for elements that make up the Celestial Realm and human world. This lets them connect to those worlds on a physical and spiritual level. For me personally, I always associated Michael with water - the way his behaviour and personality seems to shift the way tides rise and crash along the shore, the way sunlight glistens on the surface but fails to touch the darkest depths that hide whatever secrets he keeps buried there. It's interesting that he would sense that type of primal elemental chaos within someone else, the same moral tug-of-war that wages inside himself.

biding its time to swallow us both

There's nothing friendly or inviting about the language used here. "Biding its time?" Okay, so basically Michael and whoever he's referring to are fucked whenever the perfect storm of circumstances lines up and shit hits the fan. "Swallow us both" is an awfully graphic way of saying, "We're in this together." Is something eating away at you, Michael, and do you think that feeling dwells inside whoever it is you're writing about? This doesn't sound hopeful to me. This sound like reluctant acceptance that they're both doomed to succeed - or fail - together, whether they like it or not.

With that out of the way, I have a few different ideas - each worse and more non-sensical than the last - of who I think Michael was thinking of when he wrote this.

Lucifer

He's probably the most obvious candidate out of all the ones I've considered. It seems on brand (to me, anyway) that Michael would be waxing poetic in his journal like an emo edgelord after he and Lucifer broke up and parted ways at the end of the war. Michael's just waiting for his chance to see Lucifer again and be like, "HA! See, we're not so different, you and I!" and cue the dramatic reunion montage.

MC

Nightbringer's whole premise - as nonsensical as it is - is that some mysterious person or entity has sent MC to the past because reasons. There's a lot of suspicion around Michael knowing Nightbringer, or possibly being Nightbringer himself. Even though he and MC never formally met in OG prior to Nightbringer - aside from some weird dream-like conversations - you could argue that Michael knows a lot about MC from what he's deduced from their own brief interactions as well as the thing he's seen/heard from the other angels who've met them in his place.

I have this vague memory of reading something about Michael having the ability to travel through timelines like some of the other powerful characters do. We also know that Michael and MC both love Lucifer and his brothers and would do anything to be with them. If Michael knew what Nightbringer was up to and why MC was sent back at all, then perhaps there's other things he knows that have yet to happen that will continue to challenge MC's resolve. If Michael is not a villain in this case but a spectator to the whims of another force using MC for their own gain, then perhaps Michael worries about what the future holds for them both.

Himself

This interpretation is basically Michael talking to his post-war broken self, where he's struggling with the reality of what's happened, the bitterness of what he's lost, and the bleak future he has now that his home has lost some of its brightest angels. He might've been the one who cast them out, in a moment of anger or desperation it's hard to say, but something strange happened at the end of the war that saw Lucifer and his siblings spared and their sister condemned to die. (Some of this is pulled from @/luckykittysshowerthoughts essay about the fall, it's much better written than anything I could say on the subject.) So maybe Michael feels that the war has changed him, or losing Lucifer has changed him, or defying Father has changed him - and he's waiting for the consequence of his actions to reveal itself.

Father

I'm about to turn into a pumpkin (aka it's almost midnight) and I'm not sure I can articulate my interpretation of the very strange relationship and power structure of the Celestial Realm, or how the angels abide by Father's teachings and carry out his will despite him being some omnipresent entity. I like the idea of the Seraphim slowly growing more defiant of Father's wishes and commands over time when they realize how unforgiving and unkind he is, especially when angels (to me) are flawed as much as any human and demon. Unfortunately, Father expects them not to be. The war could've been a turning point in Father's relationship with the Seraphim, or with Michael specifically, and perhaps Michael suspects there will be even more of an upheaval - or a reckoning - in store for both of them (or the Celestial Realm as a whole) for the things they've done.

#jes.replies #obey me michael

[ddollfface]

𝐀 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

𝙆𝙞𝙮𝙤𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙞 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙪 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 (𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 2.)

Warnings; yandere behavior, bad writing, stalking, creepy letters, misogyny, pushy behavior, me rambling, groping, touchy behavior, reader is a girl, not proofread, Tumblr's a bitch btw :/ If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ I'm fully aware that nobody wanted this (I see all of you in my inbox, I'm getting to you, trust), but this little rat has been stuck in my mind. Ngl I have a love-hate relationship with Kiyosumi, but it's whatever. Enjoy :)

Okay, I don't like Kiyosumi. He's mean, brash, loud, arrogant, and doesn't think before he acts, overall there are no redeeming qualities to his personality. And I don't think he'd ever change for someone else, whether it be his master, Doppo, a lover, or a friend. He's stuck in his ways and doesn't want to see the world in any other way. And I just know that if I were to ever meet Kiyosumi (if he were real), we would absolutely loathe each other.

Everything about him genuinely pisses me off, and I can't imagine how anyone could enjoy his presence, so this is why I think Kiyosumi would be an absolute freak to have on your ass. There's no way any sane wo/man would ever consider being in a relationship with him unless they were being held hostage.

I believe that Kiyosumi would be a stalker, through and through. He doesn't have the charisma that Jun or Katsumi (though it's clumsy) have. He's rude and annoying, which is clear throughout the series, but this doesn't mean he doesn't have experience with women. He does, but he doesn't retain any of the information, his head is too stuck up his ass to recognize what works and what doesn't.

He doesn't know how to get a woman into his bed without paying her; he doesn't know how to get a girl to laugh, nor does he know how to get someone to like him. Even though he's an attractive man, he can't seem to get anyone to stay.

Kiyosumi is the butt of the joke, no matter who he's talking to. Everyone makes fun of him and sees him as a weak martial artist, leading him to use extreme measures to appease his own ego, seeing as no one else will. This is why he uses underhanded tactics while fighting, and I think this applies to his dating life. Now, this leads me to the type of girls Kiyosumi would pine after.

The first type is sweet, caring, and sensitive. She can't stand up for herself and flinches at the slight raise in tone. Overall, this type of girl is very insecure and usually sticks to herself or her very, very close circle (who she's likely known since she was a little girl).

If this matches you, then well aren't you lucky. Now you have Kiyosumi tracking your ass. He won't leave you alone, no matter how many times you whisper for him to back off, albeit politely. He takes every stutter, breaking off eye contact, and flushed cheeks as a sign that you're interested in him, not able to get it through his thick skull that you're uncomfortable.

With this type of reader, I see Kiyosumi being an abusive, manipulator who's taking advantage of someone who's smaller than him, both physically and mentally. Kiyosumi enjoys the control you give him, seeing as you don't demean him like everyone else. You're nice to him, though you shouldn't be. You're unnaturally giving, and at first, it makes him conscious, believing that you've got some trick up your sleeve.

Kiyosumi has genuinely never felt such kindness that he's developed major trust issues, which have formed into anger issues. He belives that he's being underappreciated in the martial arts, but you give him the recognition he's looking for. You don't say anything mean to him, if anything you're complimenting him (you're not)!

I feel horrible for this type of reader, far too much of a nervous wreck to say shit to Kiyosumi, letting his hands wander where they shouldn't be. You feel as if you're not in a place of power, in a high enough authority to say anything. Maybe if you just keep your mouth shut he'll leave you alone, right?

It's better to just ignore how his hand slowly creeps down, down, down, settling on your ass, cupping the fat, and squeezing; to ignore how his eyes linger on your cleavage, which you've covered as much as possible, not wanting any attention from Kiyosumi. Or how he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back, forcing you to feel ever muscle, the raw power they hold.

Though Kiyosumi is weak in the grand scheme of things; you don't know that, so he uses that to his advantage, forcing you into compromising situations. You're clearly not comfortable with his advantages, tugging on his hand when he caresses your waist, his sweaty hands practically leaving stains on your light sundress.

He chooses to ignore when you actively lean away from him, not wanting to catch a whiff of his alcohol-drenched breath, no gum can fix his rank breath. The grease colllecting in his onyx hair, made the gel shine a little too much.

Kiyosumi is just gross, and clearly not a ladies' man. Hell! You doubt that Kiyosumi has even interacted with a woman who isn't his mom! But you'd never tell him that, you don't think you'd survive the stare he'd give you seconds after. Living for others' approval has been your goal since you were a little girl, and seeing such a disapproving stare would break you.

But that's what Kiyosumi likes about you. You're just so soft, so nice, and sweet. You'd never undervalue him like all the other women do, like Doppo does. No, you wouldn't do that to him, you're far too kind for that (he acts like he knows you better than you know yourself).

Kiyosumi will try to pressure you into advancing your "relationship" at a rapid pace. At one moment, he's following you around work, trying to get your number and the next he's sleeping in your bed, hogging the blanket like an ass.

It makes your head spin and knees quake. Your life has spun upside down, no longer looking the same as just a few months ago. Kiyosumi has weaseled his way into your life, securing himself in your home like a leech.

Now he can make sure that no other man is getting even close to you. No, no, no you cannot even speak to other men. Kiyosumi wants your eyes on him, and only him. He's not letting you go, not after he's found the jackpot, you. You're the only person who's "appreciated" him on this level; you're like his sweet, little honeypot, that only he has. He doesn't want to share his new toy with the other boys, not when you're so damn cute.

UGH! He's literally the definition of an ICK. I hate him so much because, c'mon angel face, don't you know we're in this together? All you have to do is trust me, and let me take the reins, yeah? Just let me be the man. Now, just sit your cute ass down, and shut your mouth.

#baki son of ogre #lovesick #obsessive love #x reader #yandere male #bad writing #baki the grappler #kiyosumi katou #baki hanma #yandere x you #yandere x reader #kiyosumi katou x reader #katou haru #katou kiyosumi #baki the grappler x reader #yandere baki the grappler #yandere kiyosumi katou #baki headcanons #baki dou

[gravityglitch-blog]

The Amazing Digital Circus, as seen by a Murder Drones fan

("Candy Carrier Chaos" inspired me to write this. Fair warning, it's a long one. Potential spoilers ahead)

I stumbled into the indie animation scene on YouTube by accident. It was like finding hidden treasure. I have no hate for the big-name studios, but everything I'd been seeing up until then seemed...homogenized...over-processed, somehow? It's hard to describe. Like eating fast food when you want a home cooked meal.

Now here were stories that were all wonderfully different, in subject matter and style. I started with "Lackadaisy", which was so beautiful, it left me stunned.

(The only reason you don't see more Lackadaisy fanart from me is because it's difficult drawing cats. I'm practicing, though.)

A few more clicks brought me to "Murder Drones", and it was love at first sight.

I connected to Uzi's character within her first minutes on-screen. Despite the dark tone of the story, I still hold out hope for a good ending.

Then I started seeing teasers for a new series, "The Amazing Digital Circus".

The art style and bright colors weren't my usual speed, but I decided to check it out anyway.

Personal confession, "Digital Circus" scares me more than "Murder Drones". While "Murder Drones" wears its horror inspirations on its sleeve, to me, it's more the "cool" kind of horror that I would scribble on my notebooks between classes.

Vampires, monsters, battling the forces of darkness while jamming to nightcore, you get the idea.

I have legitimately had nightmares that look like the "Digital Circus". Strange worlds of twisted colors and shapes, people I don't know, doors and staircases that lead nowhere.

All that said, I did enjoy the pilot, I found the setup and the characters interesting, and wanted to see more.

Side note, I know the studio sometimes seems to favor "Digital Circus", and it causes some resentment between the fandoms.

For myself, I see our fandoms as siblings. Let us watch our faves (hopefully) triumph over the horrors together.

This brings me to "Candy Carrier Chaos".

It happened to debut on one of my bad days, when I was feeling down, to put it mildly.

Like I didn't matter. Like no one would notice or remember me if I were gone.

And so that opening scene of Pomni's nightmare hit me like a punch in the gut.

I won't go into the episode's plot too much, as I'm sure others here have already done that and better than I ever could. The whole reason I'm writing this is because of that ending.

The members of the Circus take the time and care to remember the friend they lost in the pilot, apparently the latest of many.

They all feel the pain of loss, of being trapped in this strange world. But they still have each other. For now, at least.

The look on Pomni's face when she realizes she's not alone. When her vision replays, it has changed.

Now, there are helping hands to take hold of her. To pull her back up out of the darkness.

I honestly became a little teary-eyed at that scene. It got me thinking, "maybe the bad days are liars. Maybe I would be missed, after all."

The power of storytelling through animation. With all my heart, I hope this medium continues to grow and flourish. To any aspiring animators and artists out there, this random Tumblr person asks, please don't give up the dream. There are people out there that need to hear your stories.

In the meantime, Pomni remains where she is...and so do I. Thank you so much if you've read this whole thing. I really appreciate it.

#the amazing digital circus #murder drones #lackadaisy #fandom thoughts #indie animation #long may it shine #tracy j butler #liam vickers animation #gooseworx #thank you for sending your stories out into the world

[solar-eclippse]

Dumping some BES fanfic ideas that have been bouncing around in my head because I need to write them down somewhere (lots of Fowzu, because I have the brainrot).

Hunger Games AU, because that's something I've been wanting to write for years. Long-form. Mizu is reaped and Taigen volunteers in a last ditch effort to save his status after his father died, but confesses that he was debating on it until he realized it would give him a shot at killing Mizu. Unfortunately for them, they're roped into acting out a fake romance to endear themselves to the audience. Fake dating enemies to lovers Taimizu for a start, debating on possible side ships.

Fowzu smut, two chapters. Madame Kaji gets her hands on Mizu before they try to storm the castle and convinces them to take a slightly more subtle approach, disguised as one of her workers come to entertain Abijah and his guests. It does not go according to plan.

Modern AU Fowzu, long-form. Mizu hasn't dated in two years, since he had a bad breakup with Mikio, who couldn't deal with Mizu coming out as transmasc. He recently started working as a bouncer at a nightclub where Abijah is a regular, and he keeps hitting on Mizu. Mizu can barely stand him, but he enjoys the attention far too much and despite knowing what a bad idea it is, he decides to give Abijah a shot. Plot with some porn, enemies with benefits to lovers, surprising soft.

Mizu x Akemi x Taigen x Ringo, post-canon shameless fluff, oneshot. At the end of Mizu's revenge quest, she and her loved ones move into a mountain village to recuperate. She and Ringo cause quite a stir, a pair of second class citizens who keep spending the night with that rich married couple.

Gen fic exploring Abijah's backstory after the Nine Years War. Probably a oneshot, but my character studies and backstory fics tend to get long. Headcanons all the way down. I have a lot of thoughts about his past that might be interesting context for how I write him in the present.

Akemizu roleswap, unknown length. Wanted to figure out how to swap their roles while maintaining their social statuses and gender presentation, and I haven't 100% figured it out, but I'm thinking about Akemi being an assassin who works with knives and poison, and Mizu being a sex worker with a chip on their shoulder who presents as a boy rather than a woman.

Gen, pre-canon/canon divergence, oneshot. Mizu takes a job for Heiji. I know nothing about the plot itself for this one, I just want to write Mizu unwittingly working for Abijah and the horror and rage of finally connecting the dots.

#blue eye samurai #sunny.txt #please let me know if any of these seem interesting #I work best when I work on 2/3 things at once #I need to pick something to write alongside The Oni's Child #don't know what though

[sampegger]

do you guys think the writers would have taken it more seriously if it had been alastair around relentlessly tormenting dean in late seasons as opposed to lucifer with sam

#i'm just thinking #like obviously late seasons writers tend to be inconsistent with handling trauma in any case but #like when dean first came back from hell we actually spent a lot of time with it #and with sam yeah we had his hallucinations but late seasons when lucifer is a problem again we only really get like #sam talking abt his trauma with rowena once #and this isn't meant to be dean critical like it's not his fault the writers gloss over how they've put sam into a horror show all alone #i just know dean gets more attention than sam does late seasons and i'm wondering if ppl would've been more willing to deal w it #but also the thought of alastair being around late seasons haunting dean in the way lucifer does sam is kind of awesome #alastair possessing someone in the bunker hmmmmmmmmm #PLEASE add onto this with any thoughts on alastair being around late seasons omg #alastair reviving dean like how lucifer revived sam in beat the devil? #idk alastair was always so much cooler to me than lucifer was maybe thats why my brain is obsessed with this now #i guess maybe like. you could do this same thing with michael. but alastair just seems more interesting to think abt #and amara was around too i guess #but. idk let me have this #anyway #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #alastair spn #lucifer spn

[caterpillarinacave]

So you choose not to step through the door, after all why mess with nonsense when you're already in nonsense? You check the items in your pockets, your phone you shut off to conserve power, the dog tag, key and top clink together but offer no help, and when you fiddle with the walkie-talkie you manage to get it to turn on, excitedly you call out to the void but only static responds, which is disappointing but predictable, so you put the items away and hunker down for the night, looking at the sky you can see that the stars seem strange, though you're no expert, and the moon seems to have a second smaller moon near it which looks pretty cool but is a stark reminder of how not on your own world your predicament has landed you.

In the morning you begin looking through the nearby bushes and plant life taking note of anything strange, you notice the berries you had been picking before you stepped through the door are also growing around here, they look and taste the same, and some other plants seem pretty similar to the forest from before as well, although the further away from the door you go the more unfamiliar plants you come across (of course that may just be your lack of familiarity with plants) and the few animals you have noticed are bizarre in a way that you can't explain, like the people from town, they seem almost perfectly familiar, just a little off and the noises they make have you thinking they wouldn't be able to communicate with their counterparts either, brushing aside another branch you come across a strange funnel made of metal which you pocket and what looks to be a regular whistle, you wipe it down and blow but hear nothing aside from the air going through, you consider it is either broken or maybe a dog whistle, as you go to put it away you hear something big running in your direction, before you can decide how to react a large creature storms out of the bushes and stops in the clearing before you, it's huge as a horse with paws and sharp teeth it licks as it looks around and spots you, it shakes its head again reminding you of a horse, then steps closer before turning and staring expectantly, you get the feeling it's waiting on you, impatiently, and you realize it seems to expect you to get on its back. Do you get on?

Yes.

#I am a terrible terrible Irish child #Clearly all those folk tales whose only moral was “don’t climb on the strange horse” were lost on me. Technically not a horse though. So. H #Uh please don’t run into the bog with my on your back strange horse thing. #…This may be one of my worse ideas #On one hand moving away from what appears to be the only connection my world doesn’t sound like a great idea #Back through the door is logically the the best bet. However I’ve already explored the area #The only thing to do would be to just sit there for hours and that will get me nowhere. The things that do have leads like the walkie- #Sputtering are things to pay attention to but not things that are likely to change if I don’t move. The whistle is the newest thing- #And let’s be real I’ve been in the bramble for like 14 hours without the neurospicy meds I am teetering on dangerously antsy #Probably better to get on the horse before I come up with something more stupid #It’s interesting my world flora seems to surround the door. I wish I’d payed more attention before I stepped through #If the nearby flora on the other side seemed like it would come from this world it would suggest that the door just leaks between universes #In two ways. If it’s earths flora then it’s either only leaking one way which we could no from one step through #Or - which we will not know but should pay attention for if we step into some other world - if the earths flora shows up around EVERY porta #Which would suggest earth is the base in some way #It might be beneficial to climb a tree to try and see farther out #Though I don’t exactly get many opurtunited to haul myself up a tree so I would put to much stock in a)my upper body strength #And b) my ability to chose a tree that won’t kill me #It’s defintley worth taking in as much info as possible. I’ll try and notice things like different winds gravity tempature ect #What should i tag this all. Help I got lost in a blackberry bush? Anon who takes me to alternate planes of reality? #I know #Guys I got lost in a bush #That’s a good one. Nothing weird there at all. #FINE I’ll rage it “guys I got lost in a blackberry bush” #I wonder what makes things so familiar. Perhaps this world exists very closely to the other. Perhaps they’ve crossed paths before. #Perhaps they’ve shown up in our dreams. Perhaps I have bad memory and my brain gaslights itself into thinking everything’s familiar #I wonder maybe the horse is a horse/dog thing- that would explain the likeness to the dog whistle (?) #This can’t get any worse I say doing something that could very much make it worse #Eh what’s the worst that can happen. At least I don’t have to pay taxes in this world #Guys I got lost in a black berry bush

[ghost-of-someone]

literally just saw some radfem bullshit on my dash, & then when I went to their blog to block them not only was it full of anti-trans half arguments & accusations of other people being childish, but one of the very first posts was about how a certain show would be better if one of the main characters was a young woman instead of an old man because they "don't like old people"

#there is no point to this other than i'm pissed and tired of having terf bullshit pass my dash #i feel like i'm gonna have to get that eye thing because i don't super vet the blogs i interact with casually #so as long as they're not immediately anti queer i usually don't notice #and then i've got fucking radfem shit in my 'based on your likes' feed #all because i interacted with feminism stuff that - without the anti-trans lens - seemed totally fine #& like terfs are already shitty people but i feel like the anti older person sentiment just further highlighted the fact that #terfs are just shitty hypocrytical people who play the 'poor me boo hoo you're all childish' card & act like they're so fucking superior #& that any trans folks are terrible #and then turn around and spout all kinds of bigotry #but it's okay i guess because they've got a vagina <3 (& experience the exact same kind of misogyny that tons of us do but they're special) #ALSO #I learned what 'moid' means and you guys are fucking assholes #men are not just mindless sex freaks you fucking cunts #& the fact that you think that just shows how warped your sense of the world is #you 'hate the patriarchy' but aren't interested in actually dismantling it #how could you when you don't even view half of the people involved as really human! #fuck off #terfs and radfems aren't welcome here and you can all kick rocks #i try my best for this to be a queer friendly space and i want that to be clear right fucking now #if anyone who follows me has bothered to read this please let me know if i've accidentally reblogged something from the 'drop the t' crowd #i am not the golden standard queer or whatever the fuck the term is #but i dont ever want someone to think that i'm part of that crowd

[vaugarde]

im going to finish magireco maybe bc its only like a dozen episodes left but ngl i might watch an additional show inbetween this and xy bc. im sorry gamers i cant say i like it all that much

#i WANTED to like it so bad i kept telling myself to not expect it to be as good as the original esp bc its an adaptation of a gacha #but i just dont find any of it or its new rules compelling at all #and the elements i do like are barely in the show like the little kyubey and the original five #and even then im a little afraid of how theyre gonna adapt them here #it just doesnt have much of what i loved abt the original series in it #echoed voice #the season 1 finale was the nail in the coffin tho oh my god the witch reveal reaction was god awful #i know we havent seen the other girls reactions besides tsureno and iroha and i guess yachiyo #and while tsurenos is good the other two are just???? #iroha u were just told u were manipulated into this system to be converted into energy and a monster #and this entire time youve been fighting the tortured souls of other magical girls and the system is primed to ensure that you WILL die #or become a witch eventually #please show more fucking reaction to that than ‘’um okay….. where’s ui tho’’ #like. she seemed upset in the dream yes but after that she says the ui line and then just has no drawbacks anymore #bc i guess the show doesnt have a counterargument against ‘’hey lets make life for magical girls easier and dont kill them’’ #and having her be rightfully devastated and questioning the system would make the magias look good #again. ill give season 2 a chance and ill look for the stuff i like. ik homuras coming back #but season 1 left a really bad impression on me ugh #unless they turn around and do something interesting w the magias beyond ‘’ewwww theyre bad bc theyre…. bad!!!’’ #and make iroha a more compelling protagonist i dont really have high hopes

[floralovebot]

for the music thing they sit more on the side of noise pop than rock or metal but try out sleigh bells maybe? someone said they sound like if pep rally cheerleaders were beating u to death and that sums it up pretty well i think! treats is one of my favorite albums ever for when i need to feel like my brain is in a blender, specifically crown on the ground, A/B machines, and tell 'em (demons also iconic track)

thank you!!

they seem interesting and while i do like the songs i listened to, they don't really fit the legion :(( i did add demons though! i really liked that one and i feel like the vibe (the instrumental especially) really fits them. it actually feels more like a frank song especially!

i think i'm gonna add some of their other songs to musa's playlist instead!! i've been wanting to incorporate harder sounds for her instead of just the pop/pop rock sound that it currently has. she's the fairy of music yknow? gotta get some variety!

#thank you so much!! #answered #i know it may not seem like it but every suggestion helps #even if it doesnt fit whichever playlist im currently looking at it def fits one of the others #legion unfortunately def strike me as the kind of people who would be a little elitist when it comes to their music #i dont think they would like mainstream music or anything thats 'too soft' #thats why ive been trying to get rougher songs! i think demons fits that vibes much more than some of the other ones i listened to #but im gonna keep them on my radar cause their lyrics def fit susie and i want to find some more songs for her!! #i dont know if you know these characters well but if you do and you have any suggestions for a song that would fit her #please let me know!! she's such an interesting character to me and i really want to make sure all of them are incorporated fairly #a lot of legion playlists sound more like a frank playlist #which like. i don't hate but id love to see more variety and really get a sense of the full group and not just him yknow? #ANYWAY thank you again i really like them!! crown on the ground was really good 🥰

[slytherinslut0]

jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons

author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.

-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.

Draco Malfoy.

Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.

“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”

Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.

Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.

“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.

His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.

He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.

“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”

He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.

Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.

“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”

He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.

“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”

Blaise Zabini.

Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.

When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.

This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.

He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.

You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.

After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.

“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”

Lorenzo Berkshire.

Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.

Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.

Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.

His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.

You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.

He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.

“Who was that guy, darling?”

You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.

“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”

He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”

You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”

Mattheo Riddle.

“Who the fuck-“

Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.

You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.

You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.

Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.

You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,

“Is this fucker bothering you?”

Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.

“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“

He’d heard more than enough.

“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”

Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:

“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”

Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.

And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.

When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”

You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.

Theodore Nott.

He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.

Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-

Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.

Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.

Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.

His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.

He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.

“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”

As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.

Tom Riddle.

“AVADA KEDA-“

Lowkey kidding but not really.

No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.

#harry potter #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #tom riddle smut #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheosmut #mattheoriddle #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle #severus snape #tomriddle smut #tomriddle x reader #tomriddlesmut #blaise zabini #blaisezabini #theoriddlesmut #theodorenottsmut #theodore smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #theoriddle #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #theodorenott #theo riddle #dracomalfoy #draco smut

[nicoliine]

The day you noticed Lucifer was using his wings to court you.

☆彡 In birds, there is a great variety of nuptial displays at the time of courtship, especially in species that have melodious songs or show very striking plumage.

Little did you know, this would include angels or the king of hell himself.

 

☆ English isn't my first language. Sorry in advance.

☆ The reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.

 

You were always fond of birds, and you dedicated much of your life to helping preserve endangered species. You studied them, spent countless hours learning about the hundreds of species, a lot of diets and their behaviors.

This didn’t seem to stop once you found yourself in Hell; in fact, once you discovered there were a bunch of sinners with bird-like features, you just seemed content to be there.

When you arrived at the Hazbin hotel, you claimed one of the spare rooms as your personal studio, and after what you have called "the toughest battle in your life," you convinced Alastor to let you have a camera "as long as you never get that frivolous technology box near me."

Husk had to ask you not so politely to stop when you first met. Before you could even take his hand, you had started to ask questions about their wings; sometimes you even wrote on an oh-so-worn notebook of yours; it became a common topic of discussion between the two of you. When you forget he has work to do and start to take multiple pictures of his wings and even try to take one of his wings when he is not looking, Angel starts to think that your bartender friend is about to lose it, and you will end with a scratch or two.

 

Besides that, one could say that your presence in the hotel was appreciated; you could be found watching some funny shows on TV with Angel and never saying no to Vaggie when she asked for a favor. Soon, you started to feel part of the hotel, and the rest of the staff agreed with that.

 ☆◦ •◦☆

Lucifer was nothing like any man you had met in life or hell; he was, to put it simply, an awkward guy, always so silly yet so elegant. He had managed to get you longing for his presence more often than you would like to admit.

You are not sure how you and Lucifer became friends, but having a shared interest in ducks seemed to help. You gave him all kinds of facts about them, and he would step by your room every so often to show you the new rubber duck he was working on. Not that you're complaining, but one of his ducks set your courtains on fire on an occasion.

Charlie says that she is proud of his "social advances,” as she used to call your interactions. Seeing him out of his office more often and having an actual conversation with someone seems to make the princess happy and less worried about her father, and if that someone turns out to be you, it is so much better!

  ☆◦ •◦☆

The first time you noticed this weird behavior of his was the day you two met. You couldn’t help but mention, after his bickering with Alastor over who was Charlie’s father figure, that you found his wings precious. Lucifer, being the prideful man he is, wasted no time on extending his wings only for your delight, a smirk on his face as he saw your eyes wide admiring that part of him; they were so magnificent, you could swear they were shining in the light of the room, and you'd die to see if the feathers were as soft as they seemed.

 

Just a simple touch, please.

 

Before returning his wings to their place, there was a flutter of his wings, so slow that there was no way someone could notice.

But you weren't just someone; you knew it. What a coincidence! You could recap an article about some birds courtship.

The second time you saw it, you were in your room minding your own business. He came to you with a smile, but your eyes were looking past him, his wings on full display as he greeted you. There, his wings started flutter again, now lasting more than the last time. Now there is no way it was just a coincidence. “My eyes are up here, darling,” he said, that smirk on his face turning into a pout as you were not paying him enough attention. You just shake your head, focus on the man before you, returning your full attention to him, and the pout on his lips dissapears immediately as your eyes are on him.

 

  ☆◦ •◦☆

You are getting crazy; every time you get a glimpse of him, you find his wings moving in an oh-so-familiar way that you could swear it was a courtship dance, every time bolder than before.

That is when you decided to confront him, getting just a chuckle from him. It made you think maybe it was just your imagination, and you finally lost your mind.

 

While sitting on the hotel balcony, Lucifer was telling you one of his ideas for this new rubber duck. He said it would be the best one he would work on so far, even though you doubted that. Then you stopped listening, your eyes fixated on his wings. Every time he looked at you, they would flutter not so subtly, distracting you from everything around you. Your head rested on your palm, almost feeling bad for not listening to his rambling.

 

"Luci, you're courting me." It was supposed to be a question, but by the way the king of hell stopped his rambling and, looking at you with wide eyes, you found that maybe it was not.

"And what would make you think that?" He said mocking you, he also rested his head in one of their hands.

 

"Your wings, the way you move them," you pointed to his wings; they stopped his movements when you mentioned it; he just chuckled, then started to laugh. Was he laughing at you? It made you want to hide yourself from him; was it your imagination? No way.

 

"So you finally notice," he then said. Once his laugh was gone, he adjusted himself on his seat. Now, with both of his hands holding his face and looking at you with a smirk, his wings started to flutter once more. "I thought it would take you less time, may I be honest"

 

"Actually, I noticed it long ago; I thought it was just my—" You felt the air leaving your lungs once he got on his feet and moved closer to you. "...Just my imagination." You were not strange to his proximity, but this time he just looked so imponent, wings on full display and fluttering around. Now it was definitely a courtship dance, and you were on the receiving end.

 

"Now, what do you think?" He hovered over you who still sitting, a hand resting on the back of your seat, taking one of your hands on his and kissing your knuckles. The kiss lasted longer than you thought was the average time for one, and even then he didn’t let go of your hand. "Was my dance enough to impress you, darling?" Now, looking into his eyes, you could only see adoration, awaiting your response.

 

You couldn't speak; you can't imagine the king of hell pulling up something like this for you.

 

"My dear, please talk to me," he pleaded, a sigh leaving his lips as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his warm breath in your skin, burning like hellfire.

 

"It was," you said, Lucifer now turning his face to look at you. You took his face in your hands and moved him closer, he gave you an inquisitive look but with no intention to move from your touch. "I should have mentioned it earlier; it was quite impressive." You smiled, and he did the same.

 

Now, how long you two kissed, you also don't remember; what you remember, however, is how he held you against him as if you were just about to disappear right then, and that when you finally got to touch his wings, you were proved wrong.

His feathers were much softer than you have imagined.

This idea came to me yesterday when my dad showed me a reel of a lady bird who epically ignored the male who was dancing to her, I felt so bad and immediately thought about Lucifer.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Why did this took me so long? #nicolines

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ��Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

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