#D-Angel writes

[cringefailvox]

overlord husk aus are very interesting to me in part because they present such a radically different vision of the huskerdust dynamic that is very compelling to me. present-day husk and angel are exhausted. these are people genuinely at rock bottom, who have been so worn down and chipped away at by the long, dragging stalemate of their circumstances that they have nothing left to give but their bare minimum selves. which is okay, and it's enough for them; a lot of what makes their dynamic so interesting is that it's about two people at their lowest rediscovering what it feels like to not be alone down there, to even begin thinking about the possibility of climbing out of the deep dark hole they've made their peace with now that they won't be doing it by themselves.

in contrast, overlord husk aus imagine a version of husk and angel before they were losers together. they imagine versions of them that haven't been beaten down all the way just yet: husk at the height of his greed and power and reckless addictions, angel riding the high of his stardom while adamantly refusing to peel back the surface and acknowledge the rot. both of them still digging the hole and saying to themselves, "i've got a ladder, i'm not going to get stuck. i can always climb back out."

and having these two meet at this stage in their lives, i think they would really, really not make each other better. husk's consideration for the souls on his chain had to have been close to zero for him to use them as gambling chips the way he did, especially the recklessly self-destructive way he did that ended with his own soul in alastor's pocket. and i imagine that for a long time, angel lived in total willful denial about val's escalating abuse and the toll his increasingly demanding job was taking on him, because acknowledging it would be tantamount to making it real, making it something that could actually hurt him and not just be rationalized away, and so of course he'd put off doing that for as long as he could.

if husk had actually won angel's soul, it wouldn't have been any different from all the other people he traded back and forth across his table just for the illicit thrill of the game. angel probably would've had a whole sunk-cost freakout about it (what was the point of all that pain and suffering and lack of autonomy if all the consequences are coming from a stranger now and not val? when it isn't personal? and now he can't even claim a little bit of power back by saying he chose it, because he didn't.) angel knows full well what it looks like when someone is going to kill themselves with their addictions, but what obligation does he have to the guy who would just as quick give him up to somebody else if it gave him an adrenaline rush? nothing, that's what, and he has enough of his own problems anyway.

crucially, they're both INCREDIBLY self-absorbed. not even in a conceited or vain way, but just in that they're so wrapped up in their own mess that they can't see beyond it, they don't have any space for empathy, and furthermore, they have no reason to even try.

it's why the version of their dynamic we get in canon works so well—they're in the same place now, at just the right time to finally start opening up their worlds to how they affect other people (angel watching charlie interact with val at the studio; husk being forced by alastor to engage with the hotel's residents as the bartender). there's space for empathy in their lives now, because they've finally been brought so low that they can't hide anymore, can't look away, can't deny how completely and totally fucked they are. it's a kind of brutal honesty that can only really come from confronting your absolute worst-case scenario. but for them to even begin connecting with each other in any authentic sense, they needed to have the ladder taken away so they could finally bring themselves to stop digging, look up, and realize there's been someone down here with them all along.

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[cupophrogs]

Hey DD. How have you been. You’ve been quiet.

“Thankfully, most of the vending machines are intact and full, so we won’t be starving while Cherub’s leg heals. Thing has caught him trying to sneak out far too many times.”

[prince-liest]

The way you write Alastor sometimes comes across as very agender to me and idk if you do that on purpose but I love it

I do, actually! He strikes me as the kind of person who is invested in the performance of masculinity and being a gentleman because it's a part of the way he wants the world to see him, and I don't think he would be very tolerant of people trying to emasculate him in any way because that is an insult with heavy connotations, especially during the time he's from. At the same time, though, I feel like if he'd been assigned female at birth, he would see the presentation of his femininity (and anybody questioning it) exactly the same way.

I write him as seeing gender as a role performance that has important traditional social values, but not ones that are inherently related to who he is as a person. Basically, he's a demon and a monster first, and everything else... I'd say "second," but frankly he barely tolerates people seeing the humanity in him at all.

[casukaga]

i am so normal abt my dnd character…i’ve never understood liking ur oc so much and hyperfixating on them, but. this year………i have done it fellas

[imunbreakabledude]

idk why but last reblog as i was tagging it. it made me think. how losercringe (affectionate) (but also a little derogatory) it is that angel named himself angel. cuz like he's liam or whatever as a human, and then he is christened "Angelus" as a vampire. (I forget if canon makes it explicit who gave him that name - if it was just generally spawned by humans who feared him, 'the vampire with the angelic face', or if it was Darla who gave him that name?) but then anyway when he gets his soul back he's like. WHOA!!!! I'm a totally different person. wow I can't believe how fucked up I was as Angelus, he was a totally different guy than me. I need a new name, I am not Angelus anymore. but.... (blush) I kinda like that everyone thinks I'm cute. so let's make it just a little less menacing. just Angel~~~~ uwu

[facelessanimator]

I have so many questions about your Guardian Angel AU

Like I would assume this was after Timmy loses his fairies?

Also what happened to him, like how did he became an angel? Why?

How did the council managed his appearance and what happened when he woke up?

Who assigns him his charges and how exactly his duty as a Guardian Angel works?

Also what happened with his previous life? Like I guess the 500 years coma was in Fairy World years, since he beccomes Hazel's Guardian so on Earth things kept going, what happened with his parents, his friends?

Hoo Boy this is a nice doozy! SO!!

1 and 2: This AU takes place when Timmy is only 17, just One year shy of losing his fairies forever. Unfortunately the combined stressors of: - Knowing He's gonna lose his Fairies. - His parent's neglect becoming worse after age 14 to the point he spends weeks alone. - Cosmo and Wanda talking out loud about properties in Fairyworld they're looking into once they leave. -Francis's bullying taking an even harsher turn to the point Timmy was put in the hospital a few times. - The thought of losing Peri, the only one who took his emotions into mind at all times. and a whole lot more, sadly caused him to become Pataint 0 of a brand new disease that effects mainly godkids.

The Disease was named T.H.S [Timmy's Heart Syndrome], it shares similarities with BrokenHeart Syndrome but it mainly effects godkids who have been subjected to intense amounts of stress due to neglect or bullying. Timmy was affected with all the factors of it, at once, for the length of YEARS, so his death made the disease easier to contract as it sorta evolved.

After his death, Timmy was found, in pretty rough shape, at the rainbow bridge of Fairyworld by random civilians. He was quickly taken to the hospital where it was discovered his rough shape was due to his new wings growing in. Of course something of this magnitude has to be called in. Effectively putting the hospital on lockdown, none allowed to enter without explicit permission from the Council or Jorgen.

The death of a godkid was unheard of.

================================================

3: Once the Council learned of Timmy's fate, they basically locked the hospital he was at down TIGHT. Nobody outside was allowed to see him and any information of him was swiftly redacted from everywhere, even his Godkid file was sealed under the highest security. Timmy was basically wiped from everywhere in efforts to protect him from the eye of the public and media not even Cosmo, Wanda or Peri know he lives in Fairyworld, and he was put under strict 24/7 monitoring by none other than Jorgen, cause nobody wanna mess with him tbh.

But the news always spreads.

Waking up from his coma was a whole fiasco on its own.

Its a tad bit terrifying going to "sleep" with immense chest pain in your room and suddenly waking back up in FairyWorld with a whole new look and some BIIIIG reserves of magic that you have no idea how to control. Its the main reason Timmy has a halo rather than a crown. The Council and Some very powerful fairies put so much magic into Timmy's halo in an attempt to curb or even completely halt his magic until hes able to control it himself.

Which sorta takes the next 500 years. COUGH

================================================

4: HIS CHARGESSS!! As before- with his new powers comes with new abilities- and in the beginning his ability led him to kids who were suffering T.H.S at stage 2. His abilities and the spread of the disease made it harder and harder to keep under wraps so the Council decided that a new wing was needed to both study and attempt to stop the spread of the disease. Thus The Guardian Wing of FairyWorld was born. The Council held reign over it for a while, splitting into 2 to lighten the load until a proper Commander could be assigned.

Jorgen and More Higher Ranked Fairies were assigned to train Timmy in how to control his powers, leading to a few unexpected explosions till he managed to get a handle on it.

Lets just say Timmy out of Mortal School was actually a very quick and advanced learner. Advancing through most of his trainings, within the 500 years it took, with efficiency and speed not many fairies possess. Wasn't long before he was advancing through the ranks. TLDR- Timmy is actually the Guardian Commander, most Guardians are actually assigned charges by HIM. Tho Guardians are assignment status is a totally different process If anyone's interested!

================================================

5: ......His previous life was......not so good. His parents came home from a 5 week vacay to notice the house was exactly how they left it. Barely realizing their son was gone until a few days passed. Only then did they realize something was wrong. Once they entered his room and found it a mess with some blood scattered around did they THEN call in the emergency...

unfortunately no body was found. Chester and AJ were devastated once Timmy's disappearance was announced in the school. They honestly though that he was finally taken on vacation by his parents.. They spent years grieving their friend and even meet up on his birthday to remember him. [Disclaimer: In this AU Fairyworld and Earth kinda run on different times, time in the Fae realm kinda goes faster than Earth.]

Trixie acted like a total attention hog, claiming how she was so endeared by Timmy's crush and acting like she lost the love of her life- [I had personal beef with her as a kid XD]

Hell even Crocker and Francis paused their antics for a while once it was announced. Francis eventually went back to his old ways but Crocker became quiet, a more introverted teacher until he retired.

Tootie took his kidnapping the hardest cause she's the only one who knows. She knows he passed on. She was on her way to visit when she spotted the ambulance and a strange family rushing out with Timmy in their arms. She found where he was buried....and every year, without fail, on his birthday, she left flowers at his grave. She never told anyone, in fear they may see Timmy's memory in negative light or use it for attention.

As Well as a Personal Favor to a Strange Pink Haired Woman.

Bonus: Tormented Creator

[ah-scheisse-its-you]

Got sick a month ago, so I gave it to Ace to cope with having to go through it alone.🧡

Apparently he wanted back at me for it though because right after I finished editing this I got sick again 😂 I haven't been sick so close together in years now I think, he's very powerful.

MarcoAce | Rated: G | Words: 1001

[beelzebby666]

Angel Makers

Chapter 2: fractures/fractals

Canon-Divergent Trigun Stampede AU

Tesla, Wolfwood, and Livio&Razlo focused

Ch 2 Warnings: blood and gore, body horror, threats of sexual violence, transphobia, child abuse, canon typical gun violence, and minor character deaths.

Summary: Chapel takes Tesla to see what the Eye of Michael stands for. They don't like what they see.

Tesla art by @/needle-noggins <3

[gothsuguru]

kairoooooo!!!

i’m here to ask you more about ‘out of my league’ (university au my belovedddd as you already know hehe :3 ) and ‘my love builds coffins’ because they both sound soooooo tasty!!!!

i’m so intrigued by your geto brainrot because you always come up with the most delicious and unique pairings and aus!! <33

much love,

Lily xo @storiesoflilies

THE FACT THAT I KNEW YOU WOULD ASK ABOUT UNI CRUSH!SUKUNA NDNFNFNDNDNF i know you and your love for your husband (sukie) so well 🤭 AND OMFG I’M SO HAPPY YOU ASKED ABOUT HARPIST!GETO THAT ONE JUST RECENTLY MADE ME VERY FERAL :3 putting in the wip ask game here so i don’t forget hehe

ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! you saying that i come up w unique pairings/au’s is literally the sweetest thing in the world i’m tucking that comment 2 my chest <3 hehe

my love builds coffins:

AHHHHHHH YOU DON’T KNOW HOW ECSTATIC I AM THAT YOU ASKED FOR THIS ONE HEHE IT’S A RECENT WIP AND IT’S MAKING ME INSANE!!!!! the title of the song is actually “my boy builds coffins” by florence + the machine but i wanted reader to be the coffin builder so i changed it up :3

okay so BASICALLY the gist that i have set up rn is that suguru is a harp player and ofc it’s such an angelic instrument that brings ethereal joy to others… but two of his friends (haibara & riko) passed away in a tragic car accident on their way to his show… i think suguru genuinely almost loses his way and can’t even look at his harp anymore but his best friend satoru wants him to find his way again — so suguru finds a cottage to stay at while also trying to process his grief.

there he meets a coffin maker who he gets to know a bit and they try and help him through his grief (this reader i think will be very beloved to me in the future… they’re not like my normal brash loud silly readers… they’re a bit more subdued & have an air of calm & mystique that intrigues and entrances suguru!) this fic i think will be about two people bonding over grief and trying to overcome it the best way they can together… i’m actually really excited to write this fic and get more ideas about it so thank you so much lily for asking about it :’) i think this fic will be very near and dear to me and a lot more softer/bittersweet/morose yet hopefully filled w fondness & longing! i’ll try and get ideas to write abt this soon :’)

out my of league:

ok this was actually originally a frat boy!geto fic but as i was writing it i found myself way more drawn to sukuna who is reader’s best friend! i started looking at their dialogue & the way they interact and i just fell in love with the idea of him as the campus crush but reader being the ONLY one he can tolerate! it’s a uni au and also best friend to lovers <333 sukie is so funny to me bc he doesn’t realize he’s in love until it hits him like a freight train & is like damn i like this bitch 😑😒

this snippet is what started it all for me 😭

[smua70]

Ever consider how Aziracrow would make a great sword and sorcerer duo? Of course, they can both perform miracles, and Crowley was the Black Knight during King Arthur's reign. But it would be natural for a veteran of the Great War and a nebula creator to use those talents elsewhere. Any fic recs?

[reaper-in-reverie]

At some point he'd forgotten why he even killed in the first place, why he felt these chills all the time. It was because he liked seeing people filled with distress, he liked to see the light miserably fade out of their eyes. No—

It was because he fucking hated them.

OR

zack foster's occasional musings. takes place pre-canon. which makes him about a teenager (?) also he's pretty much just as quiet as he was as a kid because i said so. very uncreative i think. warnings. murder, obviously. all things zack. tw for blood. knife. cw swearing (like twice). minor character death mentioned. mainly me yapping lol. character analysis. wc 855.

The city lights shone brightly against the dark night sky.

There air wasn't warm, but it wasn't freezing cold — and Zack treaded the dark, dusty back alleys of the place, spinning the knife in his hand, walking towards nowhere in particular. He waited. And waited. And waited, until there it was again.

A chill.

Like a silent call that took form as shivers up his spine. Zack turned back, a now determined look in his eyes as he moved out of the alley. There was no satisfaction for him until this chill ceased — it beckoned to him, it itched against his wrapped hands and guided his palms to the hilt of his knife. It invited him to plunge it into the chest or the stomach of the nearest person.

Zack found himself in another alley (stepping on something soggy under his boot and letting out a quick "ugh, shit,"), waiting for some drunkard to stumble out and find himself to be a very unlucky man.

Zack could hear the loud bar from where he was hiding in the semi-dark alley. It was bustling with chatter and laughter and music, and the occasional chorus of a group of friends shouting in unison. His hands gripped the handle of his knife tightly. He couldn't wait until this laughter and this noise turned into pained groans or terrified screams. Or better yet, an expression of complete and utter dread in contrast to whatever fun they had in their drinks and in the company of their friends. He couldn't wait for them to die, alone, at his burned hand.

And someone eventually did walk out. A man stumbling out of the bar, hiccupping, babbling nonsense, leaning against the walls of the alley, not even having a sense of direction as he stumbled into the darkness. He bumped into Zack with a drunken "whoops!", one Zack grimaced at in a mix of annoyance and disgust.

There wasn't any greeting, no warning, no threatening call — Zack just lunged at the drunk man, hands gripping the knife tightly as he shoved it into his back. Zack heard a loud groan come from his victim, but that didn't stop him; he kept stabbing him. Again and again. Until he fell to the ground. In the chest, in the stomach, anywhere that made his heart thump in excitement. Blood spilled, then pooled under the corpse, staining the clothes he was wearing. There was a rattle in the dying man's chest — he's choking on his own blood — and Zack knew it was done. He stared at his work, then walked away.

He was used to it at this point.

At some point he'd forgotten why he even killed in the first place, why he felt these chills all the time. It was because he liked seeing people filled with distress, he liked to see the light miserably fade out of their eyes. No—

It was because he fucking hated them.

Them. Them — everyone who looked happy, everyone who could laugh and live satisfied with themselves — them. They all just lied to themselves, cackling as if they weren't evil, as if they weren't monsters to everyone around them, as if they weren't vermin to the very ground they enjoy. They didn't deserve to live, they didn't deserve their glee — that was why Zack was honored to force upon these monsters their ultimate dread; death.

Zack was a monster, too.

A different kind, he always justified. He knew he was evil — he embraced it like he would to a mother he never had, cradled the reality in his hands — he didn't lie to himself. He was the kind that was never truly happy like them unless he killed them. He was the kind born from them.

But still a monster.

That was why he didn't kill that old man — guh, that old man. Zack kicked around a trash can with a frustrated look, finding himself in his previous alleyway. He didn't kill him because it'd be pointless. He wasn't happy in the first place, he was a miserable blind man, he was just a loner. Killing him wouldn't bring Zack any satisfaction.

Or maybe because the old man wasn't a monster. Maybe because he was a kind old blind man — maybe it was his misery that made him good.

And what do you want to do now? The questioned nagged at Zack every so often, and he always answered himself — I want to kill all these laughing bastards so that they fall to anguish and despair.

But he knew that wasn't what he always thought. Not before the old man died, anyway. Maybe it was just for a night, just for a few hours, that Zack was satisfied with himself. Without blood. Without a knife in his hand. Without looking for happiness in the despair of other monsters.

Things would be a lot different if that old man were to still be alive.

But he doubted anything would be normal.

Zack didn't even know his name.

© reapkusho on tumblr. 2024. all rights reserved. refrain from translating, copying, or stealing in any way, etc.

[peppermint-whiskers]

MACHINES AYYYYY-

Emily gets an outfit change in this one c:

[mitamicah]

Guys .... I am not sure I can survive this week if this keeps happening (I am getting too blessed) 😭

[atlas-dr0wned]

rip vash the stampede you would've loved the promise by girls aloud

[robinewe]

Falling Angel

Prompt 18

The demon found the angel at the end of a trail of dirty white feathers leading into the dark. They prowled closer, barely beginning to see a clump moving in the shadows, the scent of blood in the air.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dark, dirty place such as this?” the demon drawled, blocking off the alleyway with their body. The angel curled in on xemself, clutching raggedy wings around xir form. “What, cat got your tongue?”

The angel raised xir head, shaggy blonde hair falling in front of xir eyes, soggy with rainwater from moving through the clouds. Xe gave a weak glare while the demon examined xem, catching sight of the blood streaked across xir wings. The angel shifted xir shoulders and more feathers shook loose, fluttering down onto the dirty alley cement.

The demon crouched in front of xem. “What’s happening to you?” they asked curiously.

“I’m falling,” the angel bit out. They choked and coughed, and the demon stood back up, pondering to themself. They nudged the angel with their foot, and the angel just whimpered and curled into xemself tighter. Utterly defenseless.

“What’d you do? What sin got you kicked out of heaven?” the demon asked, curious. The angel’s eyes were flickering open and shut, and the demon snapped their fingers. “Stay with me, angel. I’m trying to decide what to do with you.”

The angel gave them a pained wince and said, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just had questions, and nobody would give me any answers.” A spasm wracked xir body, and xir wings snapped out behind them, feathers splayed at taut angles before breaking away, one at a time. The angel cried out, clutching at xir arms.

The demon watched with something akin to pity, but mostly an objective interest, like watching an ant burn under your magnifying glass. “Maybe I’ll expedite this process,” they hummed. “No need to prolong your suffering, as beautiful as it is to watch.”

They approached the angel and shoved them against the wall with one hand against their back, pressing their face into the brick. With their other hand they grabbed a handful of feathers and ripped, earning a shriek of pain. They discarded the bloodied feathers onto the ground behind them. Examining the angel’s wing, they saw that where the wings connected with xir back seemed to be fissures forming in xir skin. It had been a very long time since the demon had fallen themself, and like most of their kind, they had retained no memories of their transformation. They remembered being alone when it happened. That was one small mercy they could grant to the angel in front of them.

One by one they began pulling out feathers while the angel shook under their hands, voice long since broken into whimpers and hisses of pain. The demon admired their handiwork with satisfaction. The wings on xir back had become nothing more than skin stretched over hollow bones, half of them snapped, covered in bloody pockmarked holes. “How are you doing, angel?” they asked, leaning in close.

“Hurts,” xe managed.

“It’s about to hurt a lot more, but after that it will all be over. Okay?” The angel weakly struggled in response, but couldn’t do anything about it. The demon placed their knee between the angel’s shoulder blades, taking a wing in each hand. “Breathe with me,” they said, taking a deep breath and waiting until the angel’s chest rose and fell underneath them. On xir next inhale, the demon pulled with all their might, and heard the skin tear as the appendages were ripped from the angel’s back.

Xe let out a blood curdling scream, red pouring from their back in pulses and covering the upper half of their body. The demon discarded the useless wings, releasing their pressure on the angel’s back, and crouching next to xem. The angel had fallen unconscious, weakly convulsing on the ground in the alley. The demon gathered xem into their arms and waited there while xe gradually drifted back to them.

The demon rubbed circles on the angel’s back, where the wounds were already sealing over with stark white scars that would never fade. The angel blinked open with xir eyes glazed over, uncomprehending of xir surroundings before xir gaze finally landed on the demon.

“Feeling better, angel?”

Xe blinked again, and nodded faintly, staring at them.

“Alright, then.” They stood up and pulled the angel to xir feet with them. “Come along, then, angel.” They started walking out of the alleyway.

“Why?” xe asked. “Where are you taking me?”

The demon gave xem a pointed look. “Do you have anywhere else to go?” Xe looked around xemself, and curled inward, wrapping xir arms around xemself once more.

“No,” xe muttered.

“Then I will help you, for the time being,” the demon explained. “Seeing as you and I are now on the same side.” The fallen angel looked at them bitterly, but this time followed the demon out of the alleyway and back onto the streets.