#Angel Web Group

[m0onlustre]

You always belonged with me. - Sylus x reader

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: pure filth, slight yan!sylus if you squint really hard, oc plot mentions, angst

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, ooc Sylus (how his myth could be in my head), toxic relationship,  b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, non-sexual choking, spanking, creampies, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, angel), dirty talking, sylus refers to reader's pussy as "she"

ᯓExtra Warning: This story contains altered religious themes and biblical references that may lead me to hell. If you are religious or uncomfortable with the prospect of such writing, please, for your own sake, do not proceed with this story. Consider yourself warned.

ᯓWord Count: 4,6k

Centuries ago, you were banned from stepping foot in the place you once called home. You would do anything to return, and tonight was your chance to try your last resort: the man who had damned you to this position in the first place.

It wasn’t the first time you felt the unsettling sensation of being followed while navigating the N109 Zone. This place was notorious for its shadows—every corner seemed to harbor someone lurking, ready to pry into the lives of others.

You had grown accustomed to this unease; after all, this had been your home for years, both before and after the catastrophe that left the area hollow and desolate. In the aftermath, people became harsher, their kindness stripped away by the events that reshaped the lives of everyone in the zone.

Your feet carried you into one of the bars at the far end of town. You couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle at the absurdity of a security guard standing at the door. Everyone knew this wasn’t a typical nightclub—not that anything here could be considered “normal.” This establishment had a reputation as a bloodbath. The guards weren’t there to ensure anyone's safety of course, except for one man: The leader of Onychinus.

Onychinus was a mysterious faction entrenched in the N109 Zone. Unlike other shady groups, they were omnipresent, weaving a vast web of corruption that controlled every illegal activity within the area.

Sylus was not just the head of this dangerous organization; he was regarded as the ruler of the entire underworld. Whispers of his cruelty and insatiable thirst for power circulated like a broken record, echoing through the streets.

People were terrified of him, yet he intrigued many. Tales circulated about his almost supernatural presence—more than just a human leader, he was said to command the night with his sinfully crafted horns and shadowy wings that cast an ominous veil over the town, keeping it cloaked in darkness twenty-four hours a day.

Imagination was a double-edged sword; it could inspire or deceive. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time you overheard whispers about Sylus—tales that veered more towards horror folklore than reality.

The guard fixed his gaze on you, waiting for your entry pass to the club—or, more accurately, the colosseum that lay hidden beneath it. You brushed aside the blonde locks of your wig, letting the brooch of the zone glimmer against your dress, perched just above your chest.

His scrutinizing look was intense, and you could almost sense the gears turning in his mind. “How come I haven’t seen you here before?”

You maintained an expressionless facade, keeping your tone steady under his interrogation. You hoped that the extensive alterations to your appearance—from the wig and colored contacts to your evol that allowed you to adopt features from those you encountered—would obscure any resemblance to the posters plastered throughout the N109 Zone. The bounty on your head had sent ripples of tension through the underworld, but you felt surprisingly calm.

“I usually don’t have to watch business unfold, but tonight is special. You know what I mean.”

His eyes widened in surprise at the implication of your words, and without another word, he stepped aside to grant you entry. As you passed him, a sigh of relief escaped your lips. You silently thanked whatever entity governed fate that your deception had gone unnoticed. It was all too easy to make someone believe in your power when you wore the brooch of Onychinus and spoke the right lingo about their underground dealings.

Technically, you didn’t own the brooch; it was stolen. Yet, perched on your chest, it pretty much seemed yours now. You needed access to the inner workings of the N109 Zone, and now you had it—thanks to a clever ruse involving a brief fainting spell in Luke’s arms, where you knew he kept his brooch tucked beneath the leather of his uniform.

As you navigated through the thrumming crowd, the same unsettling sensation crept over you—the feeling of being watched. The intensity of the gaze made you squirm, though you weren’t afraid. Still, you weren’t naive enough to believe that things couldn’t escalate quickly in this dangerous territory, especially while carrying a stolen item belonging to one of the leader’s henchmen.

Scanning your surroundings, you located the secret passage that led downstairs, directly to the imposing double doors of the hidden colosseum. This was a place where fights occurred every night—not just any fights, but brutal spectacles centered around bets on altered and modified wanderers.

Once, this arena served as a testing ground for a wanderer’s limits, but it had devolved into chaos when the underworld began modifying protocores. They injected these enhancements into creatures, unleashing them to tear each other apart in front of a bloodthirsty audience.

The spectators were all too aware that most wanderers were not contained within the arena. For many, death was an inevitable risk they accepted when they chose to witness these horrific displays. People entered with a significant chance of never leaving.

Those who did survive not only walked away richer, based on the wanderers they had bet on, but so did the modifiers. Yet, the one truly profiting from these nights was Sylus. He monopolized the protocores, wielding an unparalleled influence over the creatures, ensuring they possessed the strength necessary to dominate any other fighters.

He was never present during the fights, always lurking in the shadows. You needed to draw him out, for he possessed something you desperately wanted—something you needed.

So, here you sat at the front, betting everything you had on a wanderer from a mysterious modifier who remained anonymous. The bet managers had eyed you curiously when you placed such a substantial amount of gold on a creature that wasn’t one of Sylus’s creations, especially from someone unknown.

You forced yourself to relax your shoulders and crossed your legs as the announcement echoed through the arena, signaling that the fight was about to commence. The massive bars on the left side creaked open first, revealing a wanderer from Onychinus. It emerged like a beast from the depths of hell, its massive form glowing a menacing red beneath its bark-like exterior.

Then, the bars on your side opened, and the arena fell into a tense silence, punctuated only by a few gasps. From the darkness stepped a lone human. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the imminent clash as you waited for the wanderer to attack your chosen fighter.

Snickers rippled through the crowd when the human not only failed to evade the incoming assault but instead stumbled back, his head slamming against the ground with a dull thud.

The impact caused the injected formula to rupture, and in that moment, the modified essence surged through him, transforming his body into a near-giant, nearly matching the size of the opposing wanderer. Veins on his bare skin glowed a fierce red, and his pupils elongated into slits reminiscent of a cat's, radiating an intensity that resembled molten lava.

Showtime.

It didn’t take long for Onychinus’s creation to be shredded to pieces, your chosen fighter standing triumphantly atop the remnants of what had once been a formidable wanderer.

A tense silence enveloped the crowd, and no one dared to breathe as you rose from your seat and made your way toward the exit. Just before stepping out, you turned to lock eyes with the victor in the arena, whispering softly yet confidently, knowing he could hear you clearly.

"Such a good job.”

The night air was brisk against your bare back, your dress clinging to your figure and leaving little to the imagination as you walked down the narrow alleys of the town. You could almost feel the moment the atmosphere shifted, a new energy surrounding you.

A smirk crept onto your lips as you heard the steady, heavy footsteps approaching from behind.

You turned your head slightly, speaking over your shoulder to give him only a glimpse of your profile and your back.

“At last, we meet again.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, his broad shoulders shaking with amusement as his gaze roamed over your form. You could alter your appearance as much as you wished, but he would never forget the sound of your voice. Yet, he seemed to struggle with the reality of facing you after all this time.

“Let me see you, sweetie,” he said, his voice deeper than you remembered, yet still carrying that velvety, sultry tone.

You turned to face him fully, crossing your arms over your chest. With a slight tilt of your head, you took in his figure. He had changed significantly over the centuries. He stood taller, with broader shoulders, and his muscles strained against the dress shirt he wore. His white hair, once reaching his waist, was now cut close to his scalp, with only the front strands long enough to fall messily over his forehead.

Sylus clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. “The real you.”

“I’ve changed,” you replied, your tone clipped and resolute.

He took measured steps toward you, closing the distance until you found yourself craning your neck to meet his gaze. His eyes lingered on your face, absorbing every detail. “I haven’t seen you in forever…” he whispered, his voice calm yet filled with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping your wig and yanking it away, allowing your natural hair to cascade down your back. “Don’t mistake our time apart as a reason for me to forget every single detail about you, kitten.”

You tried to steady your breathing, striving to appear unaffected by his words. Not once did you break eye contact with him as you allowed the energy of your evol to envelop you, restoring your true features and washing away the alterations that felt like long-forgotten memories.

Sylus’s eyes darkened slightly as he took you in, his hand rising to brush his knuckles against your jaw with a featherlight touch. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.” His gaze shifted to the brooch resting on your dress.

“So do you,” you replied, your words drawing his attention away from the stolen item on your chest. His brows furrowed into a small frown as he struggled to comprehend your statement.

Something clicked in his mind then, and he seized your hand, forcefully lifting it to inspect your wrist. There it was—the one symbol he himself wore, deeply carved into your skin. It glowed an angry carmine, signaling your fall from grace.

A huff escaped his lips as he locked eyes with you again. “Is this the reason you pulled that little stunt back there? You thought I wouldn’t find out about you being the mysterious modifier you placed a bet on?”

“This—” you seethed, leaning closer to him, your frustration palpable, “is your fault. I need to get back, Sylus. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.”

“Oh?” His smirk turned diabolical as he pressed his chest against yours, his face inches from yours. “And where exactly are you supposed to be, sweetie? By his side?”

Your patience wore thin. “Yes.”

A deep chuckle erupted from his throat, devoid of any humor. “His little angel. Tell me, did you think of him, too, when you were clenching around my cock, as if you couldn’t live without me?”

Your gasp shattered the silence of the night, followed by the sharp crack of your slap against his cheek. “That was a mistake. You were a mistake, Sylus.”

His eyes shifted, the warm carmine hue darkening to an abyssal black, all warmth evaporating from his gaze. “I was?”

You didn’t respond to him immediately, taking a step back to regain some semblance of control over the situation. You struggled to keep your voice steady. “I need to get back, and you’re going to help me, Sylus. What we—what I did was a mistake, and I can’t let it keep me away from home.”

Sylus turned his head away, closing his eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as amusement wrinkled the skin at the edges of his gaze. “Was it really your home, sweetie?”

“It was. Just as it was yours, once upon a—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” In an instant, he was back in front of you, his hand tightening around your throat. The burning symbol on his wrist glowed vividly, exposed by the way his cuff had ridden up during the movement. “That place was never my home. He never wanted me there; He only wanted to control me.”

“You’re wrong.” Your voice came out strained under the pressure of his grip, yet you didn’t flinch or attempt to remove his hand. “He loves you.”

“Is that why he banished me, hmm? Because he loves me?” His tone turned harsh, slicing through the air like a blade. “Does he love you as well? Is his love for you what sent you falling right after me?”

Your breathing grew erratic, each word he spoke igniting a fire on your own wrist. The more you allowed his words to penetrate your defenses, the more intense the burning sensation became. “We defied him, Sylus. You betrayed him most of all; you are the only reason you’ve fallen.”

His grip on your throat tightened to the point where you had to part your lips to draw in a breath. “Is this what you really believe, sweetie? The fallen angel, scorched by his own sins, sealing his fate away from his brother’s home.”

His eyes narrowed into slits, and you instinctively reached up to wrap your fingers around his wrist, struggling against the pressure crushing your windpipe. “I didn’t think you’d be as naive as them.”

“Sylus…” It was difficult to speak now; tears threatened to spill from your eyes. As if he had just realized the extent of the pressure he was applying, he relaxed his grip slightly, allowing you a precious gulp of air. “He can still forgive you. You just never sought him out.”

“You shouldn’t either, angel.” His thumb crept slowly toward your bottom lip, caressing it with a tenderness that felt foreign to his nature. “Do you forget all the times you sought me out? You've always known where your true home lies—by my side. You were always meant to fall with me. Fall for me.”

“No!” You struggled to squirm away from his grasp, desperate to create some space between you. Nothing was ever easy with him. All he needed to do was utter the right words, the incantation that could undamn you, granting you entry back into Heaven without the mark of eternal sin burning your skin.

He seemed almost pleased to see you after all those centuries apart, still trapped down here, far from the place you both once called home. You had foolishly fallen into his sinful embrace, and in doing so, had condemned yourself. He had welcomed you into his own home, promising you a place beside him on his throne, where you would truly belong—with him.

“Speak the words, damn it!” Your voice was nearly a plea as you struggled against him, but he was growing stronger by the second, and he had no intention of letting you go again.

“You don’t belong with him, sweetie. Don’t you see?” His breathing was calm, almost effortless, as he kept you trapped in his grip. “I would never abandon you like he did.”

“I sinned,” you breathed out, feeling yourself pressed completely against his body as he maneuvered you, forcing your back against the cold surface of the alley wall.

His taut form pressed against yours in all the right ways, his head dipping down to find your pulse point, nibbling at the sensitive skin there. Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed by a mix of shame and desire.

“Is this a sin, angel?” His teeth grazed your neck, and you instinctively placed your hands on his chest, attempting to push him away. “Your body was made to provide you with pleasure, so tell me… Why is this a sin?”

A whimper escaped your lips as he emphasized his question by sucking on your skin, his hips pressing forward to brush against your abdomen with his slowly hardening erection. The symbol on your wrist felt like it was igniting, the heat intensifying with every movement he made. “Sylus—”

“Shh… You’ve talked enough.” In an instant, his lips were on yours, a surprised gasp escaping you. He seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, his hands finding their way to the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

As you surrendered to the moment, you sensed a shift in your peripheral vision. When you tried to pull away to catch your breath, your eyes widened in awe at the sight transforming before you, your mouth falling open. 

Sylus’s carmine eyes began to glow, a tearing sound echoing through the alley as massive black wings unfurled from his back, their feathers cascading down to the ground beside his shoes. Your heart swelled with a mix of awe and longing, unable to recall the last time you had seen him like this.

Your pupils dilated, drinking in the striking transformation. His wings, once the purest of whites, had morphed into a dark, charcoal hue, contrasting sharply with his blood-red eyes. Despite the sharp edges of his new form, he remained what everyone described him as; the most beautiful angel of all.

Before you could fully process the shift in the air, his lips were on you again, his hands roaming down your body with an urgency that took your breath away. You had half a mind to pull away, but the heat radiating from your skin was intoxicating. One of his palms settled against the back of your thigh, lifting it until it wrapped around his waist, granting him access to grind against your clothed cunt.

A deep groan rumbled from his throat, and you swallowed it into the kiss, your own moan echoing softly into the night. His head dipped lower, his mouth closing around your breast, the fabric of your dress quickly becoming damp with his saliva. He seemed ravenous, impatience evident in his every movement as he nipped at the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through you that made your back arch, pushing your breasts further into his eager mouth.

“Sylus…” you moaned, your voice almost breathless, the night taking a turn you hadn’t anticipated when you first stepped into that colosseum.

“I can feel you soaking through my pants, angel,” he grunted into your chest, his hips driving into you once more. “You came here to ask me to deliver you back to him, yet you’re dripping all over me.”

His tone was possessive and almost feral as he threaded his fingers to the neckline of your dress, pushing it down until it rested beneath your breasts, exposing your skin to his eager lips. He began to lap his tongue over your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

Impatience bubbled within you, your body writhing and squirming against him and the wall as you struggled to make a decision. This was a mistake you had made before, one that had cost you your place in Heaven, yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stop when your entire being buzzed with the pleasure only he could provide.

His white locks brushed against your collarbone, a teasing sensation that made you shiver. You seized the opportunity to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer even as you tried to push him away, the conflicting desires overwhelming you.

“Don’t deny me.” Sylus’s voice dripped with lust as he locked his glowing eyes onto yours, then fell to his knees, lifting your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself perfectly in front of your clothed cunt, his presence filling the narrow alley. “Embrace me."

“I—” You were breathless, your legs trembling as you took in the sight of him, the way his eyes glowed like embers in the darkness and how his wings loomed large behind him, dominating the space. It was impossible to resist him, yet a flicker of resolve still burned within you. “I can’t, Sylus. He—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he growled, his tongue darting out to tease your panties, and you buckled, a scream tearing from your throat as pleasure shot through you, leaving you gasping.

He glided his fingers along your damp underwear, the soft fabric clinging to you as he brought them up to show you how much they glistened with your arousal. “How dare you speak his name when she’s crying for me?”

You felt as if you were burning, heat radiating from every inch of your body as he tore the fabric with one powerful tug, leaving you bare before him. “Let me remind you what it felt like, sweetie.”

His mouth was on your cunt before you could catch your breath, his tongue lapping eagerly at your folds, devouring you like a man starved. “Such a sweet pussy, angel.”

You mewled and moaned in a symphony of pleasure, your senses overlapping until all that existed was the way his teeth grazed your clit and how his mouth enveloped you completely. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine as you ground your hips against his face, seeking the delicious friction of his nose against your sensitive bud while he pushed his tongue deep into your welcoming heat.

“Sylus, please…” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, but he did. With a swift motion, he brought one hand up, slipping a finger inside you alongside his tongue. “Ah—Oh my God!”

Just as quickly as his mouth and finger were there, they vanished, and when you tried to protest, a yelp escaped your throat as a sudden stinging heat greeted your pussy. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth when he slapped you again, the sound echoing in the dimly lit alley, your body doubling over as you nearly lost your balance. It was only his wings that moved toward you, enveloping you in a soft, feathery sanctuary, steadying you against the cool, rough wall behind.

The tone of his voice was a stark contrast to the gentle caress of his wings as he spoke, a low growl rumbling from deep within. “Calling out his name when you’re begging for me?”

Your eyes widened in shock as the realization of what you’d done washed over you, and your hands instinctively tangled in Sylus’s silken white locks, guiding his face toward where you craved him most once again. “I’m sorry, Sylus, ‘m so sorry…”

Another sharp slap echoed in the air, and you felt an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure surge through you, making you believe you could reach your peak from that sensation alone.

Your frustration simmered as you watched him rise from the ground, his full height towering over you, but relief flooded you when you saw him begin to tug at his belt, loosening his pants around his hips, though they remained on.

Without thinking, your hands rushed to the fabric, desperate to rid him of it, but Sylus only smacked your hand away. His mouth found your neck once more, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “Do you want me to take you, sweetie?”

“Please—”

“Do you want me to corrupt you like I did back then?” His teeth grazed your delicate skin, igniting a mix of pain and pleasure that made you cry out. “You came to my altar once, and now you can’t seem to get enough, can you?”

You hadn’t realized the tears streaming down your cheeks, a blend of overwhelming emotions and bliss, until Sylus’s tongue lapped beneath your eyes, capturing each drop. With a swift motion, he freed his cock from the confines of his pants, rubbing it against your entrance. “You can trick your foolish heart into believing you hate me. That you want to go back, but deep down, you know I am your home.”

He finished his sentence with one sharp thrust, his cock fully seated inside you. A loud moan escaped your lips, and you could swear someone would come searching the alley, finding you pressed against the wall, Sylus’s cock shattering any remaining sense of sanity you had left.

He set a relentless pace, barely allowing you time to adjust as you felt your walls clench around him, as if he were your lifeline and you were desperate to pull him inside you forever. 

“Shit…” His groans came freely, raw and unrestricted, as he continued to fuck you against the wall. “I’ve missed you so much, angel.” He peppered your face with open-mouthed kisses, and your head tilted back, eyes crossing from the overwhelming pleasure.

“I—missed you too, Sy—” You struggled to form coherent words, your thoughts a jumbled mess of moans and whines, until the sound of approaching footsteps jolted you out of your blissful trance. You froze in Sylus’s arms, but your body reacted instinctively, clenching around him in a way that made his rhythm stutter for a moment.

He looked at you with a frown, but as he heard the footsteps, his smirk returned, and he picked up his pace. You gasped when you realized how close someone was, mere steps away from where Sylus was fucking you against the wall. His thrusts grew harder, his wings flaring out and slapping against the ground with the force of his movements.

“Sylus! Someone—” You tried to stifle your moans, but he was so deep that you could feel him pressing against your cervix, his hands gripping your hips with a force that would surely leave marks. “S-someone’s coming-”

No matter how alarming your voice sounded, there was no mistaking the way your walls squeezed his cock with each syllable. His eyes rolled back as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, whispering against them,

“You’re squeezing me dry, sweetie.” He breathed harder, his hand slipping down to play with your clit, drawing a cry from your lips that you couldn’t contain. “Does it excite you? The thought of someone coming along and seeing you like this?”

Your brain turned to mush under his double assault—his cock filling you completely and his finger teasing your pulsating clit. You struggled to hold onto yourself, but every brush against that sweet spot inside you sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you quivering.

“Do you want someone to catch you bouncing on my cock, angel? A sweet little creature making a mess on the Fallen Angel?” His thrusts became more animalistic, and in the haze of pleasure, you didn’t even notice that no one was nearing your hiding place anymore. Sylus kept pushing your sanity. “If only they knew that my cock was the reason you lost your own wings in the first place."

Your orgasm hit you like a bolt of lightning, your vision going white as you felt your pussy flutter and clench impossibly hard around Sylus’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, losing control as his hips retracted slightly before plunging back in, chasing his own sweet release. “Just like that, sweetie, give it all to me.”

Your thighs trembled around him, your body on the brink of surrender as you felt his last vestiges of control shatter.

Ropes of thick come filled you, coating your walls while his wings enveloped your body, sheltering you from anyone who might intrude and keeping you impossibly close. He continued until you were overflowing with his seed, leaking down your joined bodies, creating a mess on both of you, your moans echoing in the silence.

“You feel like Heaven, sweetie. Too bad you won’t be making it back.”

[agaypanic]

smutty blurbs w eric forman?? 😱

Eric Forman Smutty Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: couldn’t really think of blurbs so i decided to do some headcanons, also i dont have too much in depth knowledge about star wars. Eric might be a bit ooc but idc lol

C/W: smutty content (duh), roleplay, mentions of bondage, i feel like thats it

***

Loves roleplaying lmao

Remember that episode where Donna dressed up as Leia for him and he had the stormtrooper helmet??

Yeah yall do that

Sometimes, it’s hard to stay serious because he’s having too much fun with it

“Tell me what you know about the Rebel Alliance’s plans, prisoner.” You could tell that Eric was lowering his voice underneath the bulky Stormtrooper helmet. You had to keep yourself from giggling so you didn’t break the illusion of being a Stormtrooper’s prisoner.

“I’ll never tell you.” You responded defiantly, glaring at your boyfriend’s hidden face. 

Eric took a step closer, bringing a hand out from behind his back to reveal a Stormtrooper gun, which you remember getting him for his most recent birthday.

“Be obedient, and you might be rewarded.” Eric pointed the fake gun towards you, his bulky white helmet tilting to the side slightly. “Resist, and you’ll regret it.”

“Don’t point that blaster at me.” You backed up as much as possible, trying to appear scared, but it wasn’t long before your back hit Eric’s headboard.

“Actually,” Eric said, lifting his helmet off his head and looking at the gun, “It’s an E-Eleven Blaster Rifle, Y/n. We’ve been through this.”

“Oh, so sorry.” You rolled your eyes before laughing at Eric’s seriousness. Pushing off the headboard, you crawled over to the end of the bed and kneeled on the mattress in front of Eric. His eyes followed your body, his own stiffening at your seductive stare. “Is that another blaster in your pocket, Mr. Trooper? Or are you just happy to see me?”

“Storm-trooper,” he corrected, his voice quiet as he slowly let the helmet slip back down. You sighed but quickly brushed it off.

“Mr. Stormtrooper.”

Good at foreplay

His nickname’s “foreplay” for a reason lmao

Well, it’s supposed to be an embarrassing nickname

But once he starts dating you, he becomes a bit proud of the nickname

“Eric.” You whined, squirming around on the bed. “Please, do something!”

“Shush.” Eric’s hands lightly trailed up and down your sides underneath your shirt, the contact making you shiver. “Be good, Y/n.” He lifted your shirt over your head, and you helped pull it off, throwing it somewhere in Eric’s room. 

Soon, you were almost naked, your underwear being the only thing covering you. Yet Eric completely avoided the place that ached for him most, no matter how much you begged.

“You’re such a tease.” You pouted.

“Oh, it’ll be worth it, baby,” Eric smirked as he lowered himself to the end of the bed, pushing your legs apart. “Just you wait.”

Back to roleplay real quick

Makes a lot of references to movies or comics

Either during sex or the reference leads to sex

Days where you and Eric had the house to yourselves were rare. With Red being retired, Hyde living in the basement, and the Forman’s house being the hangout spot for your friend group, it was hard to find alone time unless you wanted to be at your house or go somewhere in Eric’s car.

But on the rare days when no one was home, the two of you took full advantage of it.

“Spider-Man’s so cool,” Eric mumbled as he read through a comic book, holding it with one hand so his other arm could be wrapped around your shoulders while you watched TV.

Taking full advantage usually meant sitting in the living room instead of hiding in Eric’s room or the basement.

“I wanna be one of Charlie’s Angels so bad.” You responded as you watched Jill Munroe, Kelly Garrett, and Sabrina Duncan kick some ass. Eric looked up at the screen and smirked before looking at you.

“I’d let you interrogate me in a bikini.” You jokingly slapped his chest, making your boyfriend laugh before returning to his comic. “God, having web shooters would be so awesome. Swinging from building to building, fighting crime.”

“Yeah, and you can tie people up.” 

It was an offhand remark, as you were only half listening to Eric while watching TV. But then you felt Eric’s intense gaze on you, and when you made eye contact, you realized how he took what you said. His eyebrows raised suggestively, and soon, you were turning off the television, throwing the comic book onto the couch, and racing up to Eric’s room.

[midnight-raven]

Hazbin Hotel Fankids Ideas

ARIA MAGNE

Charlie and Vaggie’s Daughter.

Kind-hearted, always willing to help someone in need, and has a slight temper.

Talented singer, fierce fighter, speaks fluent demonic and spanish.

Growing up, Aria has met Lucifer a handful of times but she’s never met Lilith.

Has heterochromia; a pink and a yellow iris.

Her full demon form has wings, horns, and she wields a sword and shield.

Wants to help her mothers dream come true, and is insecure about being heir to the throne.

On occasions, Lucifer sends her a rubber duck for her birthdays.

OSCAR

Alastors’ Son

Oscar is a Shadow that Alastor brought to life as a deer demon and raised (without revealing the truth of his origins)

Polite, curious, has little social skills and a slight dark sense of humor.

Has antlers, one is half broken.

Collects old records and other relics.

Talented chef; cooks Hannibal Lector style.

Loves visiting Rosie in Cannibal Corner.

Smiles often but not as much as Alastor, and inherited a sliver of his powers.

HOPE

Husk & Angel Dusts’ Daughter

Nickname is ‘Wild Card’

Independent, feisty, and fiercely protective of the ones she loves.

Has wings, sharp claws, a second set of arms, and can cough up web-balls.

Hopes to someday break her Dads free of their contracts.

Has a strong dislike towards Overlords.

Adores Fat Nuggets.

The big sister to everyone in the youth group, she makes the best ice cream sundaes and milkshakes.

THE SNAKELINGS

Triplet sons of Sir Pentious.

FANG; The Leader (self proclaimed since he hatched first) Adventurous, Loyal, Assertive.

COYLE; The Powerhouse. Energetic, Playful, Impetuous

WRENCH; The Inventor. Timid, Curious, Imaginative.

Each of the snakelings adore their Dad and will do anything to help him.

The Egg Bois are the best babysitters/uncles.

THE VEES 2.0

VERA; Daughter of Vox

One of Hells most popular Influencers. Works with her Dad to promote Voxtec products on Voxtagram.

Has Techonopatic powers that she uses for her vlogs, and to stream shows with her friends.

Online; Vera is bold, confident and a tad boastful. Offline, with Virgil and Valerie, she’s fair, playful, and quieter.

VIRGIL, Son of Velvette.

Works as an enforcer for the Vees; dealing with unsatisfied customers, incompetent employees, etc.

The strong and silent type but is more talkative when around his mother and friends.

In his free time, Virgil enjoys sketching and spending time with Vera and Valerie.

VALERIE; Daughter of Valentino.

Passionate and Affectionate; Daddy’s Little Princess

Valentino spoils her with gifts but doesn’t let her out of V Tower very often, and scares off any suitors that look her way.

Only friends are Vera, Virgil, Kitty, and her litter of queeves.

HENRY HAVOC

Son of Katie Killjoy & Tom Trench

Blunt, Arrogant, & Insolent (Basically a Mini Sociopath)

Has to wear a muzzle and gloves because he both scratches and bites.

Works as a cameraman for 6 6 6 News, mostly so his parents can keep an eye on him.

(Sorry, that’s all I got)

[heartfullofleeches]

A reverse human haram with a supernatural reader sounds so cute and dope

(I don't remember names so I apologize in advance)

But like the angel being a human business owner like an antique shop

Baron maybe being a tattoo artist? I feel like it'll fit him

And the reaper could be... Um.. maybe a hacker or something like that? Something that will let him stay inside all day and minimize human interaction.

And there's reader, some kind of a supernatural being, that maybe like going shopping in antiques shops, and getting tattooes... And going on the dark web? 💀

Or maybe the 3 humans already know each other and trying to track down this being for some reason?

Anyway, i just dig the idea:) could be really cute and I also miss those 3 😭

(I Stan librarian Maddox who just draws most of the time and panics when people talk to them)

"Can't one of us just ask them out for coffee? Even in the bizarre scenario they are what you claim, why would this be the best way to go about this?"

"Because your ugly ass would scare them away. Now shut the hell up and Mad give me the next step."

Maddox flips through the pages of the book positioned in their lap, producing a switchblade from their pocket. "All that's left now is a drop of blood from those who wish to form a contract. That's us, I suppose."

Baron, safety be damned, grabs the knife blade first - cupping the warm blood in his hand as he passes it to Alasdair. The shop owner was hesitant, but for the prize at hand he was desperate. He sticks his thumb and gives the knife back to Maddox who does the same.

Baron snorts, blood seeping from his closed fist onto his jeans. "What? Scared of a little nick?"

Alasdair rolls his eyes meanwhile Maddox ignores Baron's remarks as they get into position. What led them all to this situation? Two of them though on equal levels would never be seen together, and the alternative pairs worked as well as water and glue. The binding agent for their group was none other than a visitor shared between their place of business. Those keen eyes that marveled at the antique owner's precious collection of angels. That sweet smile peaking over the librarian's shoulder as they scribbled away behind their desk. The bubbly laughter that gave an ego boost to the tattoo owner and his horrid taste in fashion.

A person capable of bringing these opposites together had to be supernatural in nature, and in a way - you were. Baron discovered this while stalking you to the back alley behind their stores and witnessing you vanish from thin air. Doing more research than he ever had for school projects, Baron reasoned that you had to be a demon. He enlisted the help of Maddox to find a way to get your attention with Alasdair picked up along the way. He was skeptical as any Christian man would be, but since they were using his store for the summoning he had no say.

The trio bring their hands to the center of the circle on the floor and pour the contents onto the piece of your shirt Maddox managed to snip off. They squeeze the tip of their finger as apology and remain the last to pull away as the puddle of bloods turns black and begins to boil. The ground cracks and a skeletal hand reaches through, bones staining in the onyx sludge that creeps up its body creating layers of muscle and flesh. Crawling from the hole, the creature's tongues flicker against the hostile air as smog disburses from its throat. It cracks its jaw as it stands to full height, towering over them all - plucking a bone from its needlepoint fangs.

"That's the last time I try to finish something while being summoned."

Baron speaks up first. "Are... you naked?*

"If I'm not pretending to be a mortal there's no need to put on clothing... Don't I know you all?"

"that's so fucking hot... Ow, bitch!"

Alasdair clears his throat to play off the assault he committed on his peer. "I apologize for our barbaric approach. I'm sure this is as shocking for you as it is for us, but we have gathered here due to a shared interest in winning your heart."

You look around the room. "So.. you all want to date me?"

"Precisely."

"Hell yeah."

"Is that a bad thing?..." The librarian slides their charred notebook at your feet. You pick up the book. What's left of the pages shows you in human form.

"I suppose not. I am bound by contract to whatever your commands are, and if you wish to sell your souls for something like that then so be it. If I'm allowed an opinion, this one has already made a good first impression."

You point your claws beneath Maddox's chin who nearly faints from the contact. Baron's jaw drops to the floor while Alasdair tries, and fails to hold a straight face.

"Come on, Mad you're the last one I thought I'd have to worry about. I thought we were cool!" Baron grabs your arm, eyes bulging out of his sockets at the feel of your harden muscles. "Holy shit.... You said you'd do anything, right?"

"Baron I swear to God if you ask them to crush you with their thighs I'll choke you to death right now."

"I wasn't, chill-.... Their arms would do just fine."

[faeriecinna]

FaerieCinna's Writerblr Intro::

Hi, I'm Sav! 23, They/Them, living in the UK. I've been writing literally for as long as I can remember and decided it was finally time to share my shit on the internet.

If I'm not writing I'm working at LUSH full time, delving into a DnD campaign or baking!

Please don't be afraid to hop in my DMs or Asks because the whole point of me jumping back onto this hellsite was to make some writing pals because apparently that's an impossible feat irl.

Now for the good stuff~

WIPs::

Project.Ink

In a world torn by ancient conflict between the humans and Fae, alliances shift when the humans join forces with the mages. Amidst this uneasy camaraderie, young Fae like Rowan Kelly vanish - memories erased, appearance glamoured, and placed under human 'protection.' Unaware of her true identity, Rowan is haunted by dreams of a mysterious church in the forest. As she embarks on a journey to uncover the truth, she stumbles upon the entryway to her forgotten Fae realm, awakening a dangerous curiosity that threatens to unravel the delicate balance between the two worlds.

Her presence triggers suspicion among the elves, leading to her capture by The Inquisitor, once her lover but now a stranger due to the cruel enchantment. As Rowan grapples with resurfacing memories, the elves see only an unstable human in their midst. The Inquisitor, merciless and accusatory, soon faces the revelation of the girl's true identity. Amidst the conflict, love and betrayal mingle in the perilous quest to break the enchantment that binds Rowan to a false reality.

Project.Seraph

In the war ravaged kingdom of Infernelle, where shadows dance with secrets, Teo leads a group of travelling thieves who seek sanctuary within the city walls. Their ticket to safety? Capture a live angel as a pet for the ruthless monarch, Queen Reinette.

Rumours lead them on a futile chase and the elusive Seraph, Nevaeh, becomes their prize, shot out of the sky. Teo, adept in manipulation, promises safety to the angel, concealing a darker agenda. As alliances teeter on the edge of betrayal, and lies weave a web around the unsuspecting angel, she becomes an unwitting pawn in a dangerous game.

In a world where destinies intertwine with treacherous threads, Teo struggles with the weight of his deceit, haunted by the unspoken. As he grows unexpectedly fond of the celestial captive, guilt festers beneath his callous exterior. Whispers of the queen's malevolent plans for the angel spark a rebellion within the thief, turning a dubious bargain into a daring coup.

Plotting in progress.......

Project.Oath (Dark fantasy, human doctor x creature patient)

Project.Claw (Gay werewolf murder novel)

You can also find me on.......

(TBA)

[nixie-writes]

Hello! I've never put in a request before so l'm hoping I've done this right 😭😭

I was wondering if you could do husk x fem reader when the two start cuddling for the first time and husk basically shows off more of his cat-like features.

And he starts kneading (or making biscuits) into the readers boobs or something while purring? Ngl i thought it would be pretty sweet— no smut involved, just pure fluff<33

Hopefully this isn't too complicated - feel free to simplify if needed :)!

You did it right! I wanted to make this as non-sexual as possible and keep It fluffy so instead of boobs, Husk is gonna be making biscuits on reader's shoulders. Hope that's okay! <3

-you slowly walked into the hotel, your once pristine blue dress covered in dirt and filth. Charlie had asked you that morning to go out and look for new demons to come into the hotel, seeing as the only two participants were Angel and Pentious.

-a group of demons didn't take your sales pitch too kindly and knocked you over into a puddle of mud, caking you in dirt. This was your favorite dress, too.

-after changing out of your dress and taking a quick shower you walked back down to the common room. You were unsure of what Angel could be doing at this hour and Pentious was nowhere to be seen. Charlie and Vaggie were on a date, telling you so by taping a letter to your door. The only staff left were Niffty, who was busy playing with a spider web and Husk, wiping down his bar. You had nothing better to do so you walked over to Husk, dropping your head on the bar.

-"Rough day?" he inquired in a voice that seemed like he didn't care. You couldn't be bothered to raise your head as you replied, "the Princess had me advertising the hotel and I got kicked into some mud," you muttered.

-Husk sighed, pulling a shot glass from under the table and pouring you a shot of amaretto. "Here, this should help," he offered, sliding the shot glass closer to you. You took it and swallowed the shot in one big gulp, setting down the shot glass.

-"Can I have a hug, please?" You mumbled, your face a little flushed from the alcohol. Husk rolled his eyes; if anyone besides Niffty were there he would have told you to just go to bed but Niffty wasn't paying attention and he felt a little bad for you, having such a rough day. Walking out from the bar he sat down next to you, gently wrapping his arms around you.

-you immediately reciprocated, wrapping him in a tight hug. You scratched behind his ear and you could hear a soft purr rising from his throat. Daring to slide a hand under his hat you gently stroked his head. Purring louder, he began to gently knead your shoulders. You did your best to hold in a giggle, mostly succeeding. Husk nuzzled into your shoulder, his purr vibrating into your throat. Placing your head on his you smiled for the first time that day. Husk wasn't so bad when you were alone with him.

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 3 June 1943, the Zoot Suit Riots began when some fifty white sailors in the U.S. Navy left their Armory headed to Alpine Street in Los Angeles and attacked young Mexican American children wearing zoot suits. They began by clubbing a group of twelve to thirteen year old boys, stripping them of their clothes and burning them in a pile. The mob was soon detained by the local Shore Patrol but after the arrival of a senior naval officer, they were released without charge. The following day, young Chicano men drove in front of the Armory hurling abuse at guards. Come nightfall, white sailors again headed out, this time to the Mexican American area of East Los Angeles, attacking people in the streets and in bars and theaters. Over the next few days, many other servicemen joined the attacks. The vigilantes were praised by the press, while police arrested the victims of the attacks rather than the perpetrators. LA city council even tried to ban the wearing of the suits. Meanwhile, Black and Mexican zoot suit-wearers, including groups of women known as Pachucas, like the Slick Chicks and Black Widows, organized themselves and fought back. As clashes in Los Angeles faded, they began to break out in New York, Philadelphia and Detroit, the latter after attacks on Black zoot suiters. Within weeks Detroit exploded in its worst ever race riots to date. At the time, zoot suits that were a symbol of Black and Mexican working class pride, defiance and rebellion. Pictured: zoot suit wearers arrested during the riots Did you know, you can now see all of our On This Day anniversaries every day on our Stories web app, in the On This Day section. So please check it out and share with friends: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/date/today https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=637615471745005&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

[orviposition]

this week's side story was banger after banger after banger i cannot even begin explaining how i feel 😭😭 orv the story of all time jfc

the time for the prophecy to be realized was approaching and lhh used stage transformation to the time where dkos had been killed in dark castle. the reader group was there to aid him but they were not strong enough to harm someone as strong as dkos

then yjh's group comes and they all attack dkos one by one. lhh is sad to see how they attack him without the slightest hint of hesitation

lhh gives yjh the sword that can kill dkos' lives and yjh attacks him but dkos taunts him like: "it doesn't seem you know how to use a sword?" and hes right. 41yjh has sacrificed many memories, one of them being his sword skills. so lhh uses orv and shares yjhs body. both stories "three ways to survive in a ruined world" and "omniscient reader's viewpoint" activate as dkos gets stabbed

[constellation demon king of salvation will die in the story he loves"

then dkos smiles almost dazedly, "it's a shame" he says. "i really wanted to read it one more time"

so he gives all his stories to lhh and prepares for death but it doesn't come bcs lhh has already restored the fourth wall inside himself with the help of his story "heir to the eternal name" and therefore has absorbed dkos and sent him to live in the library where he and all the other kdj fragments he had absorbed beforehand are living and reading the story together. dkos is crazy to think that lhh wants to be someone who is great at dying.

he will be the kim dokja who never dies.

his existence restoration rate is 18.8% now

but in doing so the fate was switched back to lhh who is now the demon king of salvation, dkos' stab wound is His stab wound. the portal that will suck him away and eject him from the scenario opens and lhh feels his body get sucked into it little by little. ji eunyu uses yoo sangah's webs and she and his readers try to hold on to him. lhh talks to killer king and calls him by name "cha sungwoo-ssi you are the yoo joonghyuk of these people. please guide them" even yjhs group helps but to no avail. lhh is dropped in the story horizon

bihyung then appears and gives lhh the items he had requested beforehand but he's ambushed by olympus who have come to take lhh with them. just then someone curses at them harshly. lhh looks behind to see 41st turn yjh but he knew that yjh would never curse like that. and then white angelic wings appear behind yjhs back.

[constellation 'demon-like judge of fire' doesnt wish for your death]

1864th uriel has had many regrets.

she tasked yjh with lhh's protection no matter the cost, and yjh has accepted it

even as uriel fights athena, artemis and apollo he doesnt budge to help nor does he let lhh move either. even when poseidon shows up and lhh thinks shes gonna die and begs yjh to help all he says is "no, i have to protect you"

and then kimcom's lee jihye comes to help uriel. poseidon is shocked at her strength. 41yjh even more so. but she is gilyoung's big sister, and when the younger brother goes off on his own ofc the big sister has to follow

she then talks to 41yjh: take him (lhh) and run away. if that ahjussi dies, i'll kill you myself

(needless to say 41yjh is shocked lol)

[mi-i-zori]

When Her Blood Burns

CoD - Krueger x Fem!Medic!OC/Reader (Callsign : Nephilim)

SYNOPSIS : What I think Nephilim and Krueger’s relationship would be like.

WARNINGS : NSFW. Mentions of wounds, violence, blood, death and torture, smut, switch!Krueger and OC/Reader, mention of kinks. Kind of religious metaphors, though they do not indicate any of the character’s beliefs.

I do not give permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Based on his Reaper skin, as well as other similar attires of his, it’s obvious Krueger doesn’t mind going on a battlefield without any kind of protection for his torso and arms. Just him, and his massive balls I guess.

So my headcanon is that he could be at least a little bit masochistic, and definitely a sadist sometimes. Addicted to the adrenaline flowing from the idea of being injured, in a dangerous environment or in the middle of a certain type of stimulation.

On that note, I also don’t think he would mind his carnal adventures being a little risky too.

So I’m gonna throw him into Nephilim’s life like a goddamn feral raccoon. Always up to no good, enjoying being scolded when the pretty medic patches him up after inevitably getting injured in one way or another. Focusing on her soft, steady whispers as she comforts the injured soldiers and civilians who end up in her care ; coming up with fascinating stories whenever she needs to soothe the minds of the terrified children she holds in her arms after saving them from the wicked hands of the terrorists she and her group are trying to destroy. He is shameless when it comes to flirting, drinking up the tiniest reactions that slip through her tough façade. Loving the way she sometimes allows herself to actually be shy in front of him.

He takes the time to slowly unravel the web she hides behind as he holds her flushed skin against his. He drinks every noise flying past her lips, hands holding her hips and breasts in a bruising grip - grunting and growling as he pounds into her. The feeling of his teeth sinking into her shoulders sends her over the edge, pleasured tears dripping down her face and nails tearing through his arms. Waves of scorching heat never fail to rise from every touch they share, burning flesh and mind as their climax drips between them like lava flooding an endless valley, filled with their most primal wilderness.

As he watches her struggle to catch her breath afterwards, pressing corrosive kisses down her spine and slowly descending from his own high, Krueger thinks he could not have found a prettiest angel.

Yet those thoughts come to a screeching halt once he actually witnesses first-hand the real reason behind her callsign. When he sees her fly through the ruins littering the battlefield, all bloodied and bruised, leaving a trail of utter destruction in her wake. Her curses rise like a storm as she tries to maintain everyone in one piece, the emergency medical supplies working flawlessly in her dexterous hands. She doesn’t hesitate when it comes to dragging the enemy soldiers’ names and faces in the dirt, tearing their own supplies from their soon-to-be cold carcasses whenever she can.

Krueger shivers madly when he sees her bring the most cold-hearted war veteran to shame during an interrogation, making her targets whimper and beg before filling their very souls with lead. The burning wisps of her cigarettes light her blood-soaked fingers with each drag, a cold breeze whisking the smoke away from her lips as soon as they part, frozen eyes staring into the night before meeting his.

An Angel and a Demon live in harmony behind the humanity of her mesmerising features. Should any of the Sacred Texts hold even the slightest ounce of truth, he might indeed be the only man to taste the flesh of a Nephilim, at least since the first Divine Purge. The first mortal to savour this rare kind of danger multiple times and come out of it as unscathed as one can be.

It makes him wish he was in her enemies’ place as he watches her with a new kind of interest, lust rippling through every single one of his muscles.

And he does ends up being in their place, in a way, once she really gets more confident with him and their relationship. He realises the façade was not always a fluke when she forces him to kneel, not budging under his touches - for she’s in a bad mood tonight, and it’s finally time she let go of her own chains. He acts like a brat when she digs her nails into his skin into a series of scorching touches while restraining his hands, smirking and not uttering a single sound. Until he can’t take it anymore. Her scent is too tempting behind the blindfold, her touches too mesmerising, her voice too hypnotising.

She takes advantage of his heightened senses, turning his own little tricks against him. Whispering honeyed threats in his ears, pressing her bare self against his back, hands wandering up and down his body without ever going where he wants them to be.

He’s never been so hard.

And he cracks, savouring her coos as he pleads and begs, fighting against his restraints. Whimpering when she finally goes down on him, only to deny him his release. Stimulating him far beyond his limits like he has done countless times to her, biting his lips until blood floods from under his teeth. She licks it up, the flavours of his skin, sweat and blood mixing with the taste of her lips as she kisses him, riding him feverishly until there nothing left of them but groans, moans and pants - whimpers, cries and thundering heartbeats. Rendering them both as brainless as one can be.

After this, Krueger realises that, as dominant as he likes to be, he may or may not have a huge mommy kink.

[apteryxparvus]

hiii congrats on 100 followers! may i rq kaeya x reader angst. something like reader getting jealous of kaeya and rosaria drinking til late together

Thank you! Here's the request, hope you like it! 😊

Part of my ✨ 100 followers milestone event ✨ running from September 2nd to September 9th.

Pairing — Kaeya Alberich / Reader

Word count — 1,225

Content warning — angst • drinking • unrequited loved • mentions of smoking cigarettes

You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, even thought you know it's wrong. After all, you are just his friend, his loyal confidant. You're merely the person he'd turn to for advice on wooing yet another Tinder date, and the one he'd dial up in the middle of the night whenever heartbreak soon follows.

And still, that persistent feeling lingers deep within you.

You're perched at a table inside Angel's Share, sipping a cocktail tasting of harsh alcohol and unresolved bitterness. Jean rests her head on your shoulder, letting out a tired yawn as she absentmindedly plays with her empty glass.

Lisa's voice, sultry and slightly tipsy, breaks the silence. "Another round on me," she purrs, swaying as she rises from her seat. She makes her way towards the bar, where Charles meticulously polishes glasses, weariness evident on his face. "And perhaps some shots," she adds playfully, her giggles trailing behind her as she approaches the counter.

"She sure has a penchant for drinking," Rosaria comments, her raised eyebrow conveying her amusement. She's siting beside Kaeya, directly across from you. She runs a hand through her choppy wine-colored hair, ruffling it. Despite having consumed twice as much alcohol as you, she remains composed, her sharp magenta eyes retaining their intimidating gaze.

You remain silent, an uncomfortable know forming in your stomach as you watch Kaeya and Rosaria lean in closer to each other. Their conversation is hushes, effortless. It upsets you, how natural they seem together.

Your feelings for Kaeya have been brewing ever since that rainy and windy evening four years ago. He had spotted you struggling with your broken umbrella as you exited the Favonius University library after a late-night study session. He offered to walk you to your metro stop, insisting it was his duty as a gentleman.

Of course, you were initially hesitant accepting help from a completely stranger, but you soon discovered you shared a web of mutual friends. Like Lisa, from your classical literature class, and Albedo, your shy roommate's biochemistry lab advisor.

From that point, your friendship blossomed — you'd go on barhopping adventures and various parties across the city, indulge in movie marathons (sometimes just the two of you, other times with his friend group, who quickly became your friends too).

Back in those university days, he would always share his lunch with you, despite his campus being quite a distance away from yours. It was a simple gesture, but to you, it spoke volumes about his thoughtfulness, and perhaps even, the bond you two shared.

And there would be moments when you couldn't help but believe your feelings were reciprocated. Like those nights when he'd snuggle in closer to you after a tiring day at work, claiming your place is conveniently closer to his job, and he didn't want to bother with the inconsistent late-night public transport. Or those times when, amidst the pulsing music and the swirling crowd inside the club, his gaze would always find yours, a playful smirk gracing his lips.

You often found yourself soaring in your imagination, your hopes like wings made of paper and dreams soon to be crushed. You'd believe you could almost reach out and touch the deepest part of his soul, but just like Icarus, you'd inevitably get burned by the reality.

A sudden snort and the clattering of glasses shatter your little daydream, snapping your attention back to the scene around you. Lisa playfully nudges a shot and a cocktail in your direction as she settles back besides Jean.

Kaeya and Rosaria each take a shot glass, clinking them, waiting for the rest of the table to join in.

You bite down the inside of your cheek, but silently grasp the glass and raise it. The little glasses clink in unison and the table cheers, but you remain quiet, unable to shake off the unspoked emotions that linger deep within you.

You down the shot, barely suppressing a grimace at the the strong juniper-flavored liquor.

"I'm going out for a quick smoke," you announce, rising from the table. Kaeya shoots you a concerned glance, but you respond with a polite smile.

Outside the dimly lit bar, you fumble with trembling hands to light up a cigarette. You inhale deeply, and savor the light head rush that accompanies the exhale. The wisps of smoke dance under the glow of the soft yellow lamps.

"Smoking is bad for your health," a gruff voice interrupts your solitude. You glance up, met with deep red eyes and fiery red hair tired in a high ponytal.

"Diluc," you greet the man. "I thought you weren't working tonight."

"I'm merely checking up on my establishment."

You nod, and the two of you fall into silence as you finish your cigarette.

"Is Kaeya inside?" Diluc asks as you extinguish the glowing end of your cigarette on the nearby trashcan.

You nod. "Yeah, he's in there, having drinks with Rosaria, Jean, and Lisa." Your voice quivers slightly when you mention Rosaria's name, and you hope Diluc doesn't catch your subtle slip. If he does, he doesn't acknowledge it.

"And you're not joining in on their antics tonight?"

"I am," you reply, "but I just felt like I needed to clear my head for a bit."

A silent understanding flickers in Diluc's eyes.

"Listen," he begins, "I know you have deep feelings for my brother. You must realize that he can be quite oblivious at times, and he might need a little nudge in the right direction."

You let out a dry laugh. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Diluc doesn't press further. Instead, he heads toward the bar's entrance, waiting patiently for you to follow. With a grateful nod, you join him.

Your friends have finished their drinks during the time you spent outside smoking, and Kaeya and Rosaria are nursing another round of alcoholic beverages. Rosaria seems unfazed as she downs her Death After Noon, while Kaeya squints at his remaning drink.

Lisa and Jean wave you over, and you notice they've already packed their belongings. It's clear they're ready to call it a night.

You have yet to finish your cocktail, so you insist that your two friends head home, promising them you'll text the moment you arrive home safely.

However, the drink refuses to go down, and becomes an uncomfortable lump in your throat, as you watch the friendly banter between Kaeya and Rosaria.

A surge of bitterness and jealousy rises within you as you watch Kaeya tenderly move a strand of hair from Rosaria's face. To mask the feeling, you down the remainder of your drink, trying to ignore the unpleasant taste of the beverage. You slam the empty glass on the table and stand you, swaying slightly.

"I think I'll head out. Goodnight. Enjoy the rest of your night," you mumble, voice strained.

Barely a few steps away from the bar, you feel the tears stream down your face. In an attempt to stifle your sobs, you retrieve another cigarette and light it up.

Walking down the cobbled street, a lone raindrop lands on your nose, and the wind begins to pick up. You hadn't brought an umbrella with you.

That night, you allow the heavy rainfall to drench you, letting it numb your other senses, providing a temporary solace from the turmoil in your heart.

Author's note: not exactly proofread, sorry 😋 will probably do that sometime over the week

Smoking is bad kids, I say as I discard yet another empty pack of cigarettes 🤡🤡

[lavendersartistry]

Finished the hierarchy of heretics so here's everyone:

Matron in the Playhouse : Heretics Hierarchy

CW/TW: mentions of murder, hysteria, cannibalism, torture, death

Overseers

- Overseers are those beyond Playcare that see who enters Playtime Co. and alerts all heretics.

- This group was Huggy Wuggy, Kissy Missy, Mommy Long Legs, and Daddy Long Legs.

- Kissy Missy and Daddy Long Legs remain as this group due to Huggy Wuggy and Mommy Long Legs deciding to fend for themselves after some time of The Hour of Joy and later being killed by Player in Chapter 1-2.

Brains and Brawn

- Brains and Brawn are those who are essentially the leaders of the heretics. They assign roles to others to keep all within the Safe House and those who are brought in are safe and taken care of, as well as make masks and weapons for the groups that go out and recover any information that the Bigger Bodies Initiative have left after The Hour of Joy.

- This group was Poppy Playtime, Eve Ewe, and DogDay.

- Poppy Playtime and Eve Ewe remain as during/after Chapter 3 events, DogDay is used as a Mini Critter skinsuit to chase the Player/Angel and is presumed dead.

Medics

- Medics are the team that are responsible for the heretic's health and bodily functions. They deal with any damages and injuries and perform stitching surgeries for those who may have lost limbs that the Medics have pre-made as replacements. Medics usually alert the Brains and Brawn if supplies run low so it can be stocked up before it is completely out.

- This group was PrettyPanda and CraftyCorn.

- PrettyPanda remains as the only medical provider due to CraftyCorn going into hysteria and killing a fellow heretic for "more red paint".

Voyagers

- Voyagers are the team that helps keep the heretics within the Safe House going and remain alive. They scout out areas of the Playcare and other areas within the facility for any survivors, supplies for Medics, mechanical parts for weaponry and masks, retrieve any grabpacks left behind, and ward off CatNap's henchmen and sometimes CatNap himself.

- This group was Dee Dragonette, SillySquirrel, KickinChicken, Hoppy Hopscotch, and Bubba Bubbaphant.

- Dee Dragonette, SillySquirrel, and KickinChicken remain as this group as Bubba Bubbaphant lost his way during The Hour of Joy and Hoppy Hopscotch is put into a different role.

Barn Hands

- Barn Hands either travel with Voyagers or on their own accord to find and retrieve any type of edible food and Poppy serum.

- This group was PickyPiggy and Bron.

- Bron remains as Hoppy Hopscotch and Bobby Bearhug move to this role after PickyPiggy tries to commit cannibalism.

Hansel & Gretel

- Hansel & Gretel specialize in being with the Voyagers to make guides back to the Safe House or make a note of what place is best to scavenge material. They use webbing, paper red hearts, and cryptic messages that only those who reside in the Safe House can decipher.

- This group was Bobby Bearhug and Wally Webbs.

- This team is eliminated as Bobby Bearhug moves to being a Barn Hand and due to Wally Webbs being killed by CraftyCorn.

[anna-the-undertaker]

Shadows of Divinity

Chapter Seven Summary: Summoned unexpectedly to the Devildom, Nephila—an imposing figure with an ethereal grace—finds herself navigating a world of demons, secrets, and hidden truths. Towering above those around her, Nephila’s presence commands attention, but it’s the sense of something more, something ancient, that truly unsettles those she encounters. With no knowledge of her own mysterious origins, Nephila must uncover the secrets of her family's lineage while contending with the intrigue and suspicion that follow her every step. As the Brothers, the Royals, and the angels attempt to unravel the enigma that is Nephila, they are drawn into a web of past events and divine legacy that could reshape the very fabric of the Devildom.

Tag: @leniisreallycool

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven: Secrets and Lies

A few days had passed, and life at the House of Lamentation had settled back into a semblance of normalcy. The tension that had gripped the household after the incident with Levi was beginning to ease, though the brothers were still wary, their trust fragile and their questions many. News of Nephilia’s pact with Levi had spread through the house like wildfire, igniting a mix of surprise, suspicion, and curiosity among the brothers. Some were skeptical, questioning how she had managed to secure a second pact so quickly, while others were simply intrigued by the new dynamic it brought to the group.

Mammon, however, had remained steadfast in his behavior toward her, always by her side, hovering with a mix of protectiveness and affection. Levi, too, had begun to open up to her in his own reserved way, their newfound bond slowly building into something deeper and more genuine.

One evening, after a long day of classes, Nephilia found herself in her room, sitting on the bed, a large pizza box open before her. Mammon and Beel had joined her, as they often did now, their presence a comforting routine. They sat around her bed, each with a slice of pizza in hand, the room filled with the sounds of contented chewing and the occasional slurp from a soda can.

Mammon, his mouth full of food, mumbled, “So, ya made it outta that without gettin’ hurt, but ya passed out. Do ya have any idea how much that scared me? Don’t ever do that again, Neph! I mean it!”

Nephilia smiled softly at his concern, but before she could respond, Beel chimed in, his deep voice resonating through the room as he too spoke with his mouth full. “You seem close to the same level as us demons when it comes to strength... I think it’s ‘cause you eat nearly as much as us.”

Nephilia chuckled, setting her slice of pizza back in the box. “A human body needs food to sustain itself, especially someone as tall as me. We require more calories to maintain a healthy weight and to keep up the energy needed to function properly. But compared to your appetite, Beel, mine is still relatively small.”

Mammon, who had been listening intently, snapped at Beel, “Stop tyin’ everything back to food, Beel!”

He paused, a look of confusion crossing his face before he continued, “Actually, why’re ya even here, anyway? Seems to me you’ve been spendin’ an awful lot of time here lately.”

Beel shrugged nonchalantly as he took another bite. “Well, so have you. I mean, you’ve left a charger here. And a toothbrush, too. You even slept in here while she was at Diavolo’s place. But as for me,” he added with a grin, “Nephilia always has great snacks.”

Mammon sputtered, his face flushing slightly as he tried to come up with a response. “W...well that’s because, uh... ya know... I’ve gotta look after her, don’t I? It’s my job…”

Before he could finish, Beel had snatched Mammon’s slice from the box and was happily devouring it. Mammon noticed almost immediately and yelled in protest, “Those're my slices!”

But Beel, unfazed, stood up, pizza in hand, and announced, “I’m gonna get a soda,” before bolting from the room.

“Beel! Ya put down one of those slices you’re holdin’ right now! HEY!” Mammon shouted after him, but Beel was already gone.

Mammon clicked his tongue in frustration, slumping back against the bed. “Of all the... Seriously, does that guy ever stop eatin’?! You’d better keep a close eye on your pizza, or he’ll steal yours away next.”

Nephilia couldn’t help it. The whole situation was too ridiculous, and she burst into laughter, her mirth filling the room. Mammon, despite his initial irritation, found himself laughing as well, unable to resist the infectious sound of her laughter.

Once the laughter had subsided and they both caught their breath, Mammon turned to her, his expression softening as he asked, “So, what all went on at the palace, Neph?”

Nephilia leaned back slightly, her smile fading into a more contemplative expression. “We mostly just talked, honestly,” she began, her voice thoughtful. “Diavolo and Barbatos were trying to help me figure out how to control the magic that awakened in me, but… it turns out I can’t summon it at will. At least, not yet. It hasn’t fully developed, so we couldn’t really test much.”

Mammon nodded, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “I guess that makes sense. You’re still new to all this magic stuff. It’ll probably take some time to get a handle on it.”

Nephilia smiled at his understanding. “Yeah, that’s what they said too. But it’s frustrating, not knowing what I can do or how to control it.”

Mammon reached over, giving her a light pat on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about it too much. You’ve already made it this far, haven’t ya? You’ve got me watchin’ your back, and now Levi too. We’ll figure it out together.”

Mammon leaned back against the bed, taking another bite of pizza, then paused as if something had just occurred to him. "Speakin' of Levi, have ya got the vinyl from him yet? Or have ya finally given up on the whole attic thing?"

Nephilia shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No to both of those, actually. I wanted to give Levi and Lucifer some time before continuing with that plan. But I haven't given up, not by a long shot."

Mammon grinned at her determination. "Figures. Ya never know when to quit, huh?"

Before she could respond, her D.D.D. suddenly started ringing. She picked it up, glancing at the screen, and saw Levi’s name flashing. Without hesitation, she answered, "Hello?"

Levi’s voice was hurried and direct. "Meet me in the observatory. Now." Before she could ask why or say anything in response, he hung up, leaving her staring at the screen in mild shock.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall come," she remarked in a humorous tone, shaking her head at the timing.

Mammon burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. "Guess Levi’s got somethin’ on his mind after all. Better go see what he wants."

Nephilia nodded, already getting up from the bed. "Yeah, I think I’d better. Who knows what this is about."

Mammon waved her off with a grin. "Go on, I’ll finish up the pizza. But hey, don’t let him rope ya into any of his crazy otaku schemes."

Nephilia chuckled, grabbing her jacket. "No promises. I’ll be back soon."

As she headed out the door, Mammon called after her, "And don’t forget, I'm countin’ on you to get that vinyl! Good luck, Neph!"

Nephilia made her way through the halls of the House of Lamentation. The air grew cooler as she climbed the spiral staircase leading up to the observatory, a room perched high within the mansion, offering a breathtaking view of the Devildom's eternal night sky.

As she reached the top of the stairs, the heavy door to the observatory loomed before her. She pushed it open, revealing a vast, circular chamber bathed in a dim, bluish light. The walls were lined with tall, arched windows, each one framing the endless expanse of stars beyond. The ceiling was a grand dome, painted with intricate constellations that seemed to shimmer with their own internal light. In the center of the room stood a massive telescope, its polished brass gleaming in the soft glow.

Leviathan was already there, standing with his back to her, gazing out one of the windows. He turned sharply when he heard the door close behind her, his expression a mix of impatience and anxiety. His usual nervousness was still there, but his words had regained their sharpness, a reminder of the Levi she had first met.

"...Finally," he muttered. "I've been waiting for you to show up. It took you long enough. When I call for you, you need to come right away, understand? Don’t walk—run. I want you moving at light speed. Like the way Henry races over whenever his best friend, the Lord of Shadows, calls on him. You saw the movies, so you know. He comes riding up on a winged unicorn that he won off of the Lord of Fools in a bet."

Nephilia couldn’t help but scoff playfully at his demand. "Humans are incapable of moving that fast, Levi. And if I somehow managed it, it’d probably kill me or cause some weird shit to happen."

Levi rolled his eyes but didn’t argue the point.

Nephilia's expression shifted from humorous to curious as she asked, "So why did you want to meet?"

Levi fidgeted a bit, pulling at the hem of his jacket. "Why did you want to take part in it the TSL quiz?" he asked.

Nephilia took a deep breath, deciding that honesty was the best approach. "Originally, I wanted to borrow your TSL soundtrack to distract Lucifer so I could get into the attic. It was just a part of my plan."

Levi’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"But," she added quickly, "partway through, I really did come to love TSL. It’s hard not to when you’re so passionate about it. I got caught up in the story, the characters, everything. And I realized that it wasn’t just about the soundtrack anymore. I wanted to bond over something we both enjoy. Because... well, I wanted us to be friends."

Levi stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, and Nephilia began to worry that she had said the wrong thing. But then, slowly, his features softened, and he let out a small, almost inaudible sigh.

"You wanted to be friends... with me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the idea was foreign to him.

Nephilia nodded. "Yeah, I did. I still do..... I mean we made a pact so I'd like to think we already are or at least are part way there."

Levi looked down at the floor, his brow furrowing in thought. When he finally looked back up at her, there was a glimmer of something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before—acceptance, perhaps, or maybe even relief.

"That’s... I guess that’s not so bad," he muttered, his voice losing some of its sharpness. "But don’t think this means I’m going to go easy on you just because we’re... friends."

Nephilia smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Wouldn’t dream of it, but I would still like to ask if I could borrow your vinyl," she said gently, making sure to keep her tone respectful. "But if you say no, that’s totally fine. I can come up with something else. I’m not trying to—and I never will—force you to do anything you don’t want to."

She could see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly torn between his cautious nature and the trust he was beginning to extend to her.

Levi’s eyes flicked to the side as he continued to mull over her request. She could almost see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the risks and the potential consequences. After what felt like an eternity, he finally sighed and nodded, though the seriousness in his expression didn’t waver.

"Okay," he said, his voice carrying a tone of reluctant agreement. "But only because it’s going to Lucifer. I know he’ll take care of it, so it won’t be damaged. But you have to promise me—no, swear to me—that Mammon won’t get his hands on it. If he does, he’ll try to sell it, and then I’ll never see it again."

Nephilia held up her hands in mock surrender. "I promise, Levi. Mammon won’t touch it."

Levi’s eyes narrowed, and he continued, "And it needs to be spotless when you give it back. That means no fingerprints, no smudges, nothing. If you touch it, make sure to wipe it off afterward. And no eating potato chips or anything greasy when you’re handling it."

Nephilia’s smile widened, amused by how serious he was. "Got it. No snacks, no fingerprints. I’ll treat it like the precious artifact it is."

"Good," Levi said with a firm nod, though his anxiety was still palpable. "And don’t lose any of the inserts or the sleeve or anything! It’s super, super rare, and I’ll never forgive you if something happens to it."

"I’ll be extra careful," she assured him. "Thank you, Levi. I really appreciate it."

Levi seemed to relax a little at her words, though his nervous energy still lingered just beneath the surface. "Just remember what I said," he reiterated. "It’s not something I let anyone borrow. But... since it’s you, I guess it’s okay."

Nephilia gave him a warm smile, feeling a surge of gratitude for his trust. "I promise I’ll take good care of it, Levi. And I’ll return it as soon as I’m done."

Nephilia retrieved the vinyl with care, handling it as though it were a fragile artifact, which, in a way, it was. She left Levi’s room and made her way directly to Lucifer’s office, her heart pounding with a mixture of determination and apprehension. She knew how much was riding on this, and she wasn’t about to take any chances by delaying. She didn’t even pause to tell Mammon she had succeeded; there would be time for that later.

As she reached Lucifer’s office, she took a deep breath to steady herself before knocking politely on the heavy wooden door. From the other side, Lucifer’s deep voice called out, "Come in."

She stepped inside, and the atmosphere of the room immediately enveloped her. The office was a dark and imposing space, filled with an aura of authority and gravitas that suited Lucifer perfectly. The walls were lined with dark, rich wood, and the ceiling bore intricate gold filigree that gleamed softly in the low light. A large skeletal statue stood in one corner, its bony fingers reaching out as if to grasp at something unseen. Dark, ominous paintings adorned the walls, their subjects too abstract and unsettling to fully understand at first glance. The furniture was equally dark, upholstered in deep burgundy and black, adding to the overall gothic aesthetic. The fireplace cast a warm, soft glow, the only source of light in the room aside from the dim lamps on the desk and shelves.

Lucifer looked up from the papers on his desk as she entered, his piercing gaze settling on her. "Ah, Nephilia, it's you," he said, setting aside his work. His expression was calm, but there was a weariness in his eyes. "This last week has been a disaster, hasn't it?"

Nephilia approached his desk, her steps careful, as if not to disturb the heavy atmosphere of the room. Lucifer seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking again, his tone uncharacteristically apologetic. "Despite all that happened, you should know that Levi's not normally like that. He may be a high-ranking demon, but he's usually quite harmless by nature, so I must apologize."

Nephilia shook her head, quickly interrupting. "You don’t need to apologize, Lucifer. I challenged Levi to that quiz of my own volition, even after the others warned me about his envy. If anyone should apologize, it’s me."

Lucifer seemed taken aback by her words, his brow furrowing slightly in surprise. Nephilia continued, "As a way to make amends, I wanted to bring you this." She carefully handed him the vinyl record, her hands steady despite the weight of the moment.

Lucifer took the record from her, his gaze shifting from her face to the object in his hands. For a moment, he simply stared at it, as if trying to process what he was holding. Then, his eyes widened in shock as realization dawned. "Wh...! Is this what I think it is?" His voice was incredulous, tinged with something akin to awe. "Ah, now I get it. So, this is why you wanted to make a pact with Levi. Do you realize what it is you've got here, what this represents?"

Nephilia blinked, a bit taken aback by his reaction. She shook her head slowly. "This wasn’t why I made a pact with Levi, but no, I don’t know what it is."

Lucifer shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I don’t imagine you would. This isn’t an ordinary soundtrack, you see. There’s quite a history to it." He turned the vinyl over in his hands, almost reverently, as he continued to speak. "I don’t have any particular interest in The Tale of the Seven Lords as a story. No... What interests me is the person who served as the first composer for the movies."

He paused, his expression matter-of-fact. "The composer I speak of is dead now. He killed himself."

Nephilia nodded. "Many artists and musicians end up taking their lives. It isn’t surprising."

Lucifer continued, his voice low and thoughtful. "The final song he wrote before his death was meant to be used in the scene where the Lord of Corruption puts a curse on the heroes. But due to the composer’s suicide, they decided not to use the track. They saved it, but didn’t release it to the public. However, a group of diehard fans pooled their own funds and had a very limited number of vinyl editions produced."

He looked up at her, his gaze sharp and intense. "As you might have guessed by now, this record is one of the few that were created. However, all of the people involved in its creation, as well as every single person who owned a copy of it, ended up dying mysteriously. So, people started saying the record itself was cursed. I heard that all of these had been destroyed. But all this time, Levi has had a copy. I had no idea."

Nephilia watched him closely as he spoke, feeling as though she were seeing a new side of him. There was a depth to his interest in this cursed music, a fascination with the macabre that she hadn’t seen in him before. It was as if beneath his pride and stoicism lay a passion for things steeped in tragedy and darkness.

Lucifer seemed to snap out of his reverie, and he gave her a nod. "I’ll go ahead and take this, then. I’ll accept your apology this time, and I really do appreciate you bringing it to me." He held the vinyl with a certain reverence, his voice softening as he added, "I think I’ll spend the night savoring every last note of the music, so I probably won’t be able to bring myself to leave my room."

As he turned back to his desk, Nephilia caught a glimpse of a genuine smile on his face, one that wasn’t marred by pride or duty. It was a rare sight, and it lingered in her mind even as she prepared to leave.

But just as she was about to step out of the office, Lucifer’s voice called her back. "But don’t think that means you’re free to climb the stairs to the attic, Nephilia. That place is off limits."

Nephilia paused in the doorway, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Understood, Lucifer. Good night."

"Good night," he replied, his tone firm yet not unkind, as she quietly closed the door behind her.

Once she was certain everyone was in their rooms, occupied with their various distractions, Nephilia found herself standing at the base of the attic stairs. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of the risk she was about to take. Lucifer had expressly forbidden her from going any further, but the pull of curiosity, coupled with the lingering echoes of that mysterious voice, urged her onward.

The stairs were steep and narrow as spiralled upward, worn smooth by years of use, and the air grew colder as she ascended. With each step, she could feel the weight of the house pressing down on her, as if the very walls were warning her to turn back. But the compulsion that had drawn her here—the same compulsion she had felt on her first night when she had been stopped by Lucifer—was muted now. It was as though whatever force was guiding her had softened its hold, allowing her the freedom to choose. She knew she could turn back, walk away and avoid whatever lay ahead, but something deep within her pushed her forward.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she found herself facing a door that was unlike any she had seen in the House of Lamentation. It looked almost like the entrance to a prison cell, but it was far more ornate than those in the human world. The door was made of dark, heavy wood, reinforced with iron bands that crisscrossed its surface. The intricate carvings that adorned it were worn and faded, yet they still held a sinister beauty, as if the door itself was a relic from an ancient, forgotten era.

Suddenly, she heard movement from the other side. A figure approached, the sound of footsteps growing louder until they stopped just beyond the bars. A man stepped into view, his face partially obscured by shadows, yet the dim light from the fixtures in the attic revealed enough for her to take in his appearance.

He was lanky, pole thin, with tousled dark hair that framed a pale, angular face. His eyes, though partially hidden, gleamed with a cold intensity. His smile was slight, almost imperceptible, and there was something off about it, something that made her uneasy. It was a smile devoid of warmth, more calculating than welcoming.

She caught the man’s gaze lingering on her, his eyes widening slightly as he seemed to fully register her height. He was trying to mask it, but there was an unmistakable flicker of surprise, perhaps even wariness, that crossed his face. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but she didn’t miss it.

He seemed to shake away his shock. “I knew you were the one person who'd be able to find me,” the man said, his voice smooth but tinged with a bitterness that didn’t match the smile on his lips.

Nephilia didn’t respond immediately, her gaze narrowing as she studied him through the bars. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her skin prickle with unease. She could feel malice radiating from him, unmistakable now that she was so close. "Who are you?" she asked, her tone cautious.

The man’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "That's a good question. I forgot the answer a long time ago," he replied nonchalantly, his tone light as if his identity was of little importance.

Nephilia didn’t believe him. She had been around demons long enough now to recognize the difference between their aura and that of a human. There was a darkness that clung to demons, an unmistakable heaviness in their presence, and this man exuded that darkness. "Are you a demon?" she asked, her suspicion clear in her voice.

The man gasped, feigning offense as he shook his head. "Don’t be ridiculous! Just the thought of being one of them is enough to send a shiver down my spine. I’m a human, just like you."

She knew he was lying, could feel it in every fiber of her being, but she kept her expression neutral. There was no point in provoking him just yet. She needed to understand what was really going on here. "If that’s true, then why are you here?" she asked, keeping her voice even.

He sighed, his gaze dropping momentarily before returning to hers. "A demon imprisoned me in here a long time ago, and I've been stuck here ever since. It was Lucifer. I'm guessing you’ve met him."

Nephilia didn’t react outwardly, but her mind raced. She could tell he was telling the truth about being imprisoned by Lucifer, but the rest of his story felt like half-truths at best. Why was he lying about his nature? What did he hope to gain by deceiving her? "I have met him," she said simply, offering no more information than that.

The man’s expression turned hopeful, almost pleading. "Then you understand, don’t you? I'm begging you, Nephilia. You've got to get me out of here."

Nephilia’s eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at him "How do you know my name?" she asked, her tone sharper than before. "And why would you think I could even do that?"

For a moment, the man’s mask of confidence faltered, and she saw a flash of something darker in his eyes—frustration, perhaps, or desperation. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same smooth, confident demeanor. "That's not important," he said, dismissing the questions. "What matters is that I'm counting on you to come through for me."

Nephilia didn’t trust him, but there was a part of her that felt drawn to his words, as if something inside her recognized the truth in them, despite the lies. But she wasn’t about to let her guard down. Not here, not now. She needed to find out more about who—or what—this man truly was before she made any decisions. Something had led her here for a reason, but she couldn’t ignore the warnings that every instinct in her body was screaming at her.

Her suspicion deepened. “And how exactly would I do that?” she asked, making no effort to conceal the distrust in her voice. Her posture was rigid, a clear indication that she was ready for any deceit or manipulation.

To her surprise, the man’s reaction wasn’t defensive. In fact, he seemed almost pleased by her skepticism. A faint smile played on his lips, as if he had been waiting for her to ask that very question.

“I’m glad you asked,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward the heavy, ornate door that separated them. “You see, this door isn’t just any door. It’s sealed with a very powerful kind of magic, the kind that binds even the strongest of beings. Neither you nor I can open it on our own. The only way to break the seal is by obtaining the consent of Lucifer and his six brothers.”

Nephilia’s expression remained unchanged, her distrust unwavering. “And you think they’ll just give me that consent?”

The man’s smile widened, though there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Of course not,” he said, his tone slightly patronizing. “They’re not exactly the most agreeable bunch, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. But that’s where you come in. You’re a special case, Nephilia. You can make them do it. All you have to do is forge pacts with them—all of them. You’ve already made pacts with Mammon and Leviathan, haven’t you? The rest will be just as simple.”

Nephilia couldn’t help but laugh, though it was a soft, almost mocking sound that held no real amusement. “You must not have been watching me very closely,” she said, shaking her head. “And you obviously don’t know the brothers very well if that’s what you think. Just because I have pacts with Mammon and Levi, doesn’t mean I can make them do anything, especially when I have no reason or proof that what you’re saying is true.”

The man’s frustration became more apparent, but he quickly composed himself, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Even so,” he said, his tone more measured, “if you decide to help me, you should start with Beelzebub. He’s strong, and having his pact will bring you one step closer to freeing me. Remember, Nephilia, I’m counting on you. You’re my only hope now.”

She studied him for a long moment, her mind racing with the implications of what he was asking. There was a part of her that wanted to help, that felt drawn to the idea of uncovering the truth behind this mysterious figure. But another part of her, the part that had learned to trust her instincts, told her to be cautious.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice steady. She turned on her heel and made her way back down the stairs, her mind swirling with uncertainty and doubt. As she descended, the weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders, and she knew that whatever decision she made, it would end badly.

The next morning Nephilia entered the dining room, stifling a yawn as she made her way to her usual seat. As she settled in, Lucifer greeted her, his expression more relaxed than usual.

“Good morning, Nephilia,” he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I have to say, I enjoyed last night immensely. I listened to that record over and over... I can’t tell you how many times. And because of that, I’m running on far too little sleep today. But I’m in a great mood.”

Nephilia couldn’t help but smile at his words. It was rare to see Lucifer in such a light-hearted mood. He usually carried the weight of his responsibilities with a stoic demeanor, so this change was refreshing. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she replied, though another yawn escaped her without her consent.

“I see you’re up late today,” Lucifer continued, observing her with a sharp but curious gaze. “I take it you didn’t get much sleep either. Did something happen last night to keep you up?”

Nephilia quickly turned her head to the side, covering her mouth as she stifled another yawn. “No, sorry,” she said, her voice still a bit groggy. “I’ve just started having strange dreams. I can’t make any sense of them.”

The statement wasn’t a complete lie. She had been experiencing odd dreams. But even so, she hated that she had to lie, especially when it came to something that was troubling her so deeply.

Lucifer’s brow furrowed slightly as he regarded her, the wariness in his eyes returning, though it was tempered by genuine concern. “What sort of dreams?” he asked, his tone measured.

Nephilia hesitated for a moment, then decided it was better to share at least part of the truth. “It seems more like fragments of memories... but they’re not mine. Or maybe they’re scenes from an event I most definitely wasn’t a part of. I’ve seen glimpses of a war between angels. The scenery is always vivid, like I’m actually there, but it doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Lucifer’s expression remained neutral as he listened, though she could tell he was analyzing every word. “It’s not unheard of for humans to have visions or premonitions of past events or even future events,” he finally said, his tone thoughtful. “But even so, you shouldn’t think too much on it. The Devildom is a place where many strange things can happen to a human, especially one with your... unique circumstances.”

His mood, while still pleasant, had shifted slightly. There was a hint of caution now, a subtle reminder that while he was pleased with the gift she had given him, he was still wary of the unknowns she represented.

Nephilia nodded, not wanting to push the conversation any further. She could tell that Lucifer was still in a good mood, but the weight of his responsibilities and his ever-present caution had dulled the brightness she had seen moments before.

“Thank you for the advice,” she said softly, offering him a small smile. “I’ll try not to dwell on it.”

Lucifer returned her smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good. Now, let’s enjoy breakfast. We have a busy day ahead, and I’d rather not spend it worrying over things we can’t control.”

With that, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but Nephilia couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucifer knew she had gone to the attic, but he had allowed it. That he knew something she didn't about the visions. She knew that Lucifer was keeping a close eye on her, and she couldn’t blame him. After all, even she didn’t fully understand what was happening to her. As they continued their meal, she resolved to find answers, not just for herself, but for the sake of the tenuous trust that was beginning to form between her and the beings around her.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

Here are of some of Owens’ favorite conspiracy theories – some originate in her imagination, some in the dark corners of the web and some occasionally contain a kernel of truth. 

One of Owens' regular tropes involves questioning and belittling the significance of the Holocaust. Antisemites recognize that complete Holocaust denial is unacceptable. Therefore, they will downgrade the horrors of the Holocaust to make Jews seem overly sensitive (and ultimately, liars).

Holocaust denial and trivialization is a form of antisemitism that negates the fact that Jews were the victims of the Holocaust. Rather, it presents Jews as deceiving the world. According to the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles, “Holocaust denial is an updated version of an alleged Jewish conspiracy in which Jews use lies and extortion to gain advantage of everyone else.”

This is precisely what Owens evokes when talking about Jews and the Holocaust. For example:

Discussing how many Germans died in the war

It is estimated that 4.2 million Germans died in World War II that Germany started. In contrast, six million Jews were deliberately slaughtered by the Nazis in their project of ethnic cleansing.

Questioning facts like the experiments of Nazi doctor Josef Mengele

Josef Mengele, a Nazi doctor at the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp, conducted inhumane experiments on Jewish prisoners. He had a well-documented affinity for experimenting on twin children because he thought they were ideal test subjects in his field of interest, eugenics. His barbaric experiments exposed around 3,000 children to diseases, torture and disfigurement, and in most cases, concluded with their murder.

Obsessing about the Gulags, the Soviet prison camps

The Gulags were forced labor camps where, beginning in 1929, Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin sent dissidents. Owens claims that because there were Jews in Stalin's government, Jews invented concentration camps – not the Nazis.

The earliest internment of a civilian population is accredited to the United States in 1838, when they rounded up members of the Cherokee tribes from the southeast U.S., forcing them into prison camps before relocating them to Oklahoma.

Central to the conspiracy theory that Jews control the world lies the Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency. Allegedly working in cahoots with the CIA, Owens and other conspiracy theorists often blame the two agencies for horrific world events.

Claiming that the Mossad was behind 9/11 is a conspiracy theory based on reports that a text message warning about the attack was sent to two workers at Odigo, a U.S. text messaging company with offices in Israel at the time.

The conspiracy theory is also based on an alleged “account” that Israelis were seen celebrating outside of the World Trade Center.

Most of these conspiracies originate in neo-Nazi online propaganda, aiming to push the antisemitic trope of Jewish people controlling the world. There is no evidence to support either of these two claims. 

[talonabraxas]

Michael, Archangel of the Sun Talon Abraxas

Michael, chief among all angels, is a logical choice for the Archangel governing the Sun. As the brightest object in the sky, the Sun is associated with kings and leaders, light, fire and truth, as well as healing and vitality. All these are attributes in Michael's angel lore. Both the 12th century Arabic Scholar Averroës and the 13th century Heptameron, and those authors following their tradition, associate Michael and the Sun.

As leader of the heavenly hosts of angels in their struggle against evil (darkness), Michael embodies a solar role. He's also said to act as a guardian angel to rulers and other leaders on earth; it makes sense he should take the Sun under his own wings.

The Sun, as the giver of light, is also associated with speaking the truth. Ancients used to swear oaths by the Sun; the Sun witnessed all, and was in the ideal position to guarantee the veracity of one's words. In this way, the Sun was also associated with prophecy and other true visions from the divine. (e.g. The Greek Sun God Apollo was also the god of the Oracle of Delphi.) Some legends also grant Michael a special role in bearing witness to souls after death, conducting them to their just rewards.

Michael, along with the Archangel Raphael, is also known for his talents as a healer. The Sun, too, has an ancient associations with healing arts, particularly by promoting vitality and dispelling disease and impurities.

Ask the Archangel Michael for his aid in matters of leadership, protection, truth and healing. As the Archangel of the Sun, working with Michael is especially potent on Sunday, as well as in the hours of the Sun.

[bonefall]

“I like watching him get tangled up in his own web of self-pity, raising a superiority complex AND an inferiority complex at the same time.”

THAT NIGGA HAS BPD!!,! 🫵

ohSHIT... I didn't REALIZE

Oh noooo is that why I like him so much? Did I read BPD into Nightheart and attach myself like a limpet?? Oh god it makes sense now OTL

I was even planning for him to eventually find out he has a LOT in common with Squilf who I already decided has BPD in BB because I love her so much, is that what I was picking up on subconsciously?

AND BRAMBLESTAR IS A MUTUAL ABUSER OUGHHH... she probably recognizes him using the same tactics on Nightheart that used to work on her! Oh god oh fuck!

LISTEN; I don't rewrite arcs until they're done, so, don't take any of this as canon to BB yet, but... maybe a change I should really anticipate is changing HOW Bramblestar steps down.

I think it would work well with the themes of BB for it to not be his choice, but a... "gentle rebellion." Squirrelflight, Sparkpelt, all of the Firekin, Twigbranch, everyone who has been harmed by Bramblestar confronting him as a group and telling him what's going to happen next.

"You're going to step down. You won't be talking to Nightheart anymore. Enough is enough, Bramblestar."

"So this is how it ends?? This is how you treat me? ...this is what you've felt, all along? I've given EVERYTHING to this Clan, since--"

Just starts ranting, his voice rising in volume, lurches up out of his nest and tries to tower over everyone to make them cower.

They don't budge.

Sparkpelt is eye-level with him, just as big as her father. When he catches her gaze, he doesn't see his daughter's eyes. He sees Jessy, just before she left.

And she sees a child throwing a tantrum.

"Enough is enough."

He does not take the lesson she meant from this. He just hears his traitor of a deputy, his witch of an ex-mate, with her words in his daughter's mouth. He doesn't regret the real reasons; he regrets allowing Squirrelflight to mentor his kit.

And he claps that anger onto Squilf; "StarClan will be the judge of you."

A year ago, she would have been terrified of that. But God is hard to fear when you've been plucked from the heavens and seen his angels die.

"Ok. Anyway,"

then she delves into some boring legal stuff like how he won't sleep with the other elders, the logistics of making this official, going to the Moonpool with a witness, etc etc etc

[crevicedwelling]

taxonomic nightmare but may i request a chelicerate order ranking

sticking with extant ones, here.

Amblypygi - S

my little tree flatcrab spindle angels. maybe other arachnids have chemically interesting venom or are more colorful (amblys can do gray!! and sometimes brown) but amblys are really just suited to my tastes. long-living with both sexes having indeterminate growth, spiny, fast, nonvenomous, arboreal/scansorial, curiously social, and they just look great.

Alfonso says hi.

Thelyphonida & Schizomida — Uropygi? - A

great bugs for most of the reasons shared with above, being fairly closely related to amblys. vinegaroons are the tanks of the tetrapulmonates, built to burrow and clobber things with their freakishly muscular pedipalps. schizomids are very funny guys that deserve better. each group took “ain’t broke, don’t fix” even more literally than the amblypygi and truly all look identical; if you hid arachnologists’ microscopes there’d be a crisis.

Solifugae - A

fast, furious, fluffy: I love these little (and not-so-little) freaks. again, doing it all without venom, their crazy snipping chelicerae are some of my favorite insect anatomy. plus, they’re bizarrely diverse, from the mouth-on-legs of the rhagodids to the classic camel spider look and then there’s the hexisopodids that look like angry fur pillows.

Opiliones - A

there’s so much more to these than the ball-on-sticks (though that’s iconic!) that I used to think they all were. ornate armor and parental care (paternal, in some cases!) from the Laniatores, spindly guys abound, alien drone robots from Dyspnoi (Trogulus), and then whatever pudgy little Siro has got going on. possibly the most creative use of pedipalps, with funky lobster claws, bear trap spike-hell, “spoons?” (cosmetids), pinchy bits, glue traps, and spare leg all represented.

Araneae - B

sure. spiders are cool. everyone knows what a spider is. points for diversity, points for bizarre forms, yeah yeah. can we go home now? also, webs are cheating.

if it was only Liphistius, they’d get an A.

Ricinulei - ????

mysterious. elusive. built like a baked bean. what are they even doing? we don’t know. pay researchers more

Pseudoscorpiones - B

great bunch of little guys! phoresy is fun, and so are venomous crabby pedipalps. they have the best element of surprise—never know where you’ll find them next. in a book? under bark? in a beetle? lots of points for weird social lifestyles in certain species and associated chemical mimicry, plus all the wacky insular species and host specialists.

Scorpiones - C

they’re like pseudoscorpions, only less so. cute in a very dopey way. learning that a scorpion’s anus is at the tip of the tail ruined them for me forever.

Palpigradi - D

adorable but they’re not really doing anything let’s be honest. and I love them for that. you do you little eyeless guys I’m sure I’ll find you someday in the dirt

Acari/Parasitiformes - S

aha! I bet you thought I’d rank them poorly, but no, mites are the best arachnids (though not my personal favorites). if you disagree with that, it probably means you don���t know enough about them. mites can do anything and you are a fool if you doubt them.

yes, this includes ticks. ticks are cool and if you have an issue with this—sounds like a vertebrate problem

~~~~~under the water~~~~~

Xiphosura - C

overrated. great, and I love them, but just slightly overrated. stop stealing their blood pls

class Pycgnogonida - ????

Huh? What?

What? I don’t know. Maybe.