#a catholic who literally looks like the devil | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuebinnie · 5 months

Text

Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

#alastor smut #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #priest alastor #reader insert #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #yueyan writes...

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cheemscakecat · 7 months

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If Emesis Blue really is a Dream, I love the fact that BLU Medic sees RED the way he does.

Think about it, BLU Medic is a Catholic who knows he’s mentally ill and is trying his best to keep it under control. RED Medic is a megalomaniac who likes the challenge of playing god and made a deal with the devil.

And beyond that, BLU has other personalities that he doesn’t understand [who freak him out] and hallucinates them from time to time.

That’s the actual reason he didn’t attack RED immediately, he thought it was one of them from afar. It has to be trippy and difficult to deal with that guy IRL in battle with the personality issue.

And even if BLU doesn’t know it, if he thinks his other personalities are demons or something, they still act like people. Angry, revengeful people, but not monsters. This picture is such a good representation of the difference between the two. RED is feral and messing with powers he shouldn’t…. For fun. Fixing respawn failures is not “for fun” it’s meant to save mercenary lives. So RED would be Monstrous.

He’s still red hued even in this blue room, skin and hair too, like a demon. And given he joined Classic team in hunting his own crew and BLU mercs, it makes sense that he’s literally two-faced.

Something else that’s interesting is that BLU Medic’s eyes are only ever black/brown as the funeral version, and he has hallucinations that make that personality look demonic.

But again, funeral Medic acts like a human person that’s 100% done with BLU Corp and their lies, not a cryptid. He’s not actually evil like Ludwig thinks.

But RED Medic is criminally insane in ways that transcend other Gravel War mercs, and that’s disturbing to someone like BLU.

O no he crumchy

He just put Scout’s body in a coffin as respectfully as he could given the circumstances. RED Medic brought their team’s sniper back to life and there’s no way BLU hasn’t heard about it post-comics. He didn’t want RED touching Scout, even if it could bring him back. He doesn’t trust that maniac, and that’s 100% valid. Why?

BLU team doesn’t know RED personally. What they’re like at their base, living with each other. They don’t know that RED Medic was infiltrating Classic, not truly joining them. They don’t know what he was doing in the early 40s or how close he is with RED Heavy. And here’s the proof:

BLU Medic doesn’t know that this is BLU Heavy; he knows that he’s at RED base, and wouldn’t have a reason to believe that this isn’t RED Heavy. Especially after what happened to Scout. So from his perspective, RED finally pushed nature too far and it blew up in his face. Resulting in RED Heavy loosing his mind and attacking.

That’s also why he hesitates to run away from the big Hoovy; he might be in hearty agreement with defeating RED Medic and leave BLU alone. But that’s not the case, and so the context changes from “this guy no longer serves RED” to “this guy has lost the plot altogether, he’s just attacking anybody’.

We, the tf2 fans know that this isn’t how RED Heavy acts; he actually didn’t question Medic’s loyalty in comic 6 and was ride or die, so if anything he’d still be docile to RED. But nobody on BLU team knows that.

And BLU’s doctor believes that something terrible will happen to RED if he doesn’t stop messing with the powers that be, even though he has no idea about the demonic deal.

#tf2 #emesis blue #character analysis #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #Honestly BLU team would have no idea that RED team has their chill moments #I mean RED Medic stole their Spy’s living head and kept him from respawning for at least a few days.#Same reason RED Sniper is so creepy in this movie. He got brought back irl

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blackshadowswriter · 2 years

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Always Here┃Matt Murdock

Summary: Even the Devil got nightmares sometimes. Luckily, you would always be there for him to pick up the pieces. Tysm to @cioemyr for the request! 🖤

Words: 1875

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, dreams about losing a loved one, Matt's Catholic guilt that you have to slap out of him (not literally ofc, boi is traumatized)

AN: Guess who finally sat down and wrote out requests from months ago. I'm sorry it took so long, but it's here now! It is a little shorter than what I usually write, but I had to rewrite this several times, so this is the best I got.

That night, you awoke to a heartbroken plea from the Devil, echoing through the darkness.

When your eyes first shot open, darting around in the dark space of the bedroom, you couldn't remember what had awakened you for a few seconds.

Until Matt twisted in the sheets besides you with a shaken cry of "Foggy!"

You were shooting upright in a heartbeat, scooting closer to Matt's side of the bed and calling his name softly. Usually, you wouldn't have to move too far to find Matt in the bed since he normally spooned you like a giant, Devil-sized koala bear. However, tonight, it seemed that he had writhed away from you, plagued by the tortures of his mind.

This wasn't the first time Matt had been trapped in a nightmare, so you knew what to do. When he was like this, touching his hypersensitive skin was a great way for you to get decked in the face, courtesy of Matt's unfailing but rather violent reflexes, the first of which was to lash out at whoever touched him. It was something you couldn't exactly blame him for, especially when his nightmares usually involved being attacked or losing someone to an attack. This time, you were guessing that said someone was Foggy.

Instead of trying to touch any other part of his twisting body, you gently brought your hands up to his hair, carding through the damp strands slowly, hoping he could sense it was your touch. For a moment, Matt's body locked up at the new sensory detail, his anguished movements stilling to something a little more controlled—twitches running along the broad, muscular plane of his body.

Seeing him calm ever so slightly, you incorporated your voice.

"Matt," you called softly. "It's alright. You're okay."

In the faint illumination of the neon lights, spilling through his windows from that godawful billboard across the street, you could see Matt's face, shining with sweat and something you suspected were tears, contort in agony as his body shuddered again in his nightmare.

"It's just me, Matty," you continued, keeping your voice sweet and soft, knowing you didn't have to speak loud for his sensitive ears to pick up on it. You could only hope your voice was cutting through the fog of his dream-addled mind. "Come on, wake up, honey, you're safe here."

With a gasp, Matt's eyes flew open, and he bolted upright, clawing at the sheets, dark eyes darting around the room as if looking for a nonexistent enemy that he could not see. He tried to stagger out of bed, probably trying to go fight an invisible battle in his boxers.

"Hey, hey, hey, Matt!" you called, reaching out to gently catch his wrist. His head snapped towards you at the touch, but you weren't alarmed. You could never be afraid of Matt, and you knew that his erratic behavior was due to the fact that he usually had trouble orienting himself when waking up, especially from a terrible dream.

You said your name aloud, hoping the familiar word would break Matt out of his haze. "It's me, Matt. You're at home. You're safe. I'm safe. We're both safe, remember?"

Slowly, Matt relaxed in your hand, tension seeping out of his tightly wound form like blood washed away. He whispered your name in a shattered voice that sounded so vulnerable, so broken that your heart ached for him.

"Yeah, I'm here, Matt," you assured him quietly, dropping your hand down from his wrist to lightly entwine in his fingers. He clung to yours as though it were a lifeline in the whirlpool of his drowning mind. His body sagged back down into the bed and fell against you limply, no energy left in him. You caught his heavy weight as best as you could, gently shifting him until he could lay his head against your chest where you knew the sound of your steady heartbeat would comfort him.

"I got you," you murmured, adjusting the two of you so that you said with your back against the headboard and Matt's comforting weight across your front.

He kept his head over your heart for a few moments, breathing deep but shaky breaths before turning his face to bury it in your neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't be," you said firmly. "Don't be sorry."

"I woke you up—"

"And I would gladly wake up a hundred times whenever you need me." You ran your hand through his sweat-slick hair, gently scratching that spot near his neck that made him purr. "The same way you wake up for me when I need you."

A shudder ran through his body, and you pretended like you didn't feel the hot, wet tears sliding down your neck for Matt's sake—the man was somehow convince that crying meant bothering you, and it had taken you months to assure him that no, Mathew, crying is normal, and I am very much fine, stop with the Catholic guilt.

"Tell me about it?" you asked softly. "If you want?"

You felt the warm air from his slow exhale skate across your collarbone and waited patiently for him to speak. If he didn't want to talk about what he had dreamt about, you weren't going to push him, the same way he had never pressed you for more details than you wanted to share on your own nightmares. But if he did need to talk, you were going chase out the stupid voice in his head telling him he deserved to suffer in solitude and make sure that Matt knew he could talk to you.

Eventually, Matt seemed to have found his voice. "Foggy," he croaked. "I dreamt about Foggy." He drew in a terse, shaky breath and pressed his face against the soft skin of your neck, taking in your comforting scent for a few moments. "He got—hurt, and it was my fault."

"I'm sure it wasn't—" you started to say, but Matt shook his head firmly, his hand fisting in your shirt.

"It was," he said hoarsely. "I wasn't fast enough—wasn't good enough to save him. They took him, and I couldn't do anything about it."

Silently, you took in his words while your fingers absently stroked the nape of his neck. You didn't bother to ask who "they" was, knowing the many enemies that hounded Matt's subconsciousness. It could have been any one of them, and who it was didn't really matter right now—only that Foggy had been hurt, and Matt blamed himself.

Of course, it was entirely possible that, in his dream, something he had done had either directly or indirectly caused whatever had happened to Foggy. However, it was equally likely that Matt had had nothing to do with it and simply blamed himself like he did with so many other things that were not his fault.

Without knowing exactly what had transpired (and Matt didn't seem too keen to share details), you were fumbling in the dark, unsure of how to reassure Matt.

You settled for the safest option. "It was just a dream," you soothed Matt, brushing your lips over his sweaty forehead. "Foggy is okay."

"I don't know that." Matt stiffened suddenly as if just realizing something. "I don't know that," he repeated, moving to sit up. "God, I need to go check on him—I need to make sure he's okay—"

You shushed Matt gently, tugging him back into your arms. "Foggy is okay," you reiterated quietly. "He sent me a meme about penguins at 2 in the morning, just 30 minutes ago. He's definitely okay," you told him in amusement.

Slowly, Matt sank back into your arms, apparently reassured by his best friend's rather irritating tendency to text you the most irrelevant things in the middle of the night. You resumed the pace of your fingers in his hair, and after a few moments, Matt went so quiet and still that you almost thought he had fallen asleep.

Until he shifted slightly and turned his face up to press a kiss against your jaw. "I love you," he rasped. "I love you so much. Thank you for...for putting up with this—putting up with me. I don't deserve you."

Oh, Matthew. My sweet, wonderful, dear, idiotic boyfriend.

You slid your hand underneath Matt's jaw and tilted his face up towards yours until you could take his tormented expression, face twisted with guilt. Even without hearing him speak a single word more, you could already hear the self-beratement running through his head.

"Matt," you said slowly, "I want you to listen very carefully to me. I know you can do that. So I want you to open those bat ears of yours and listen to me, okay?"

He cocked his head to the side slightly, evidently bewildered, but Matt humored you and nodded, licking his lips slowly.

"I do not put up with you," you said firmly. Matt's brows scrunched together (adorable, your distracted brain input), confusion blooming on his face as you continued. "I put up with my shitty coworker who hits on me every day. I put up with that ridiculously enormous rat that lurks outside your apartment and hisses at me every goddamn morning. I put up with the grumpy old woman who comes in every day to my work with an attitude dating back to 500 B.C."

You paused to watch the slight twitch of amusement on Matt's lips, glad you could cheer him up even that little.

"But," you said in the voice you used to take to your childhood dog when it misbehaved, "I do not put up with you. I take care of you when you need me to, the same way you take care of me when I need you to. Do you know why I do it?"

Matt let out a hoarse laugh. "That's what I've been wondering ever since you came into my life, sweetheart," he murmured in that self-depreciating tone you hated.

"Because I love you, Matthew Michael Murdock," you said sternly, smirking at the way he grimaced at the last part.

You just got middle named, Murdock.

You tilted your head down and kissed him softly, reveling in the way Matt sighed against your lips, practically turning into putty in your arms. "I love you, Matt. And when people love each other, this is what they do. You don't like the fact I get up in the middle of the night for you? Too fucking bad because I'm going to do it anyways. I fucking love you, Matthew, you hear me?"

"I hear you," he murmured. "And I love you too. This has to be the most aggressive declaration of love I've ever heard though."

You kissed him again. "Someone has to knock some sense into that Catholic-guilt-riddled brain of yours."

Matt huffed out a laugh against your lips, bringing his hand up to cup the side of your face. "You do it rather well," he decided. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

Kissing his hair, you nudged Matt and scooted the two of you down into the sheets until you both were more or less back in the same position you had fallen asleep him: Matt curled around you like your Devil-shaped teddy bear.

With a sleepy, content sigh, Matt nuzzled into your neck again, lips brushing over your pulse point gently. "I love you, sweetheart," he whispered again.

"I love you, Matt," you said quietly, reaching your fingers up to stroke his hair. "And I'll always be here for you, I promise."

═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ════════

AN: I'm on a roll with these Matt fics, the brain juices are finally flowing! I have so much I wanna write now even if it puts me so behind on my homework. Oh well 😬

If you enjoy, please remember to like, comment, and reblog!🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

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latinotiktok · 1 year

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Propaganda:

Chell

-‼️ y muerte a los que la dibujan blanca !!

Chell de portal - vi que alguien mas dijo chell y son completamente correcto. Y MUERTE a los que la dibujan blanca !

Comments on the VS KARKAT showdown:

"WHO FUCKING GIVES A SHIT ABOUT KARKAT THE PERSON THEY USED AS A REFERENCE MODEL FOR CHELL IS LITERALLY BRAZILIAN !!!! HER NAME IS ALESIA GLIDEWELL HERES A PICTURE OF HER DRESSED AS CHELL !!!!!"

lpm si chell la modelaron a base de uma brasilera PQ LA BLANCASIFICARON. PERDON LA VEZ Q LA DIBUJE COLORPICKIE DEL MODEL SHEET COMO UNA PELOTUDA. DIOS NUNCA ME VA A PERDONAR. AWANTE CHELL BRASILERA LOKO

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

-Nicholas D Wolfwood because he looks like my dad (mexican), he's catholic, his life's purpose is to protect children (against the church), and he's got eldest daughter syndrome. He doesn't want to be doing any of this he's someone's older brother who's working 3 jobs to pay his family's mortgage. Eldest of thirty. In canon forced to take care of his younger foster siblings.

-Wolfood y leorio porque son dos morenazos tetones

-Nicholas D. Wolfwood aka el Nicolás Villalobos. Lo tiene todo. Catholic guilt. Homosexualidad reprimida. Problemas emocionales. Energía de hermano y primo mayor. Tits out guns out. Escucha Chayanne mientras va en moto me lo dijo él mismo

-WOLFWOOD FROM TRIGUN. WHY - THE MEXICAN CATHOLIC SWAG OF IT ALL.

-Nicholas D Wolfwood (Trigun)El chabón tiene todo para ser latino. Morenito, con traumas católicos, canchero, esa nariz que denota que no es un blanco cualquiera ❤️

-el don nicolas de trigun 199algo. solo miralo.

-nicholas d. wolfwood ya todos sabemos por que, este blog completo tiene posts de por que. el tipo es ecuatoriano/colombiano vamos ptm. (imagen del perrito wolfwood que dice te quiero mucho latinoamerica)

-nime (2023) Anime (1998) Manga KANJI ニコラス・D・ウルフウッド ROMAJI Nikorasu Dī Wurufuwuddo ALTERNATE NAMES Reveal DEBUT Episode 4: Hungry! APPEARS IN Trigun Stampede RACE Human, genetically modified VOICE ACTOR JP: Yoshimasa Hosoya EN: David Matranga STATUS Reveal FAMILY Reveal MORE We're nothing like God. Not only are our powers limited, but we are sometimes driven to become the devil himself. NICHOLAS D. WOLFWOOD Nicolás D. Wolfwood de Trigun. ¿Es un pedazo de carne Y es Católico? TIENE que ser Latino no hay de otra!

-nicholas d wolfwood de trigun maximum por que lleva con el una cruz gigante y tiene tetas grandes 🥰

-Nicholas Wolfwood nomás porque es un moreno que está bien pinche guapo!!! Aparte las tetas que se carga son un patrimonio de Latinoamérica

-Nicholas D. Wolfwood, because he's the perfect man & I love him. I'm sure there's more lmao I can't think of anything good rn it's so late. I just see other people adding him & I want to up our chances of getting him in the poll

#canonize your blorbo as latino tournament #round 2 #polls #IM SO SORRY BBYGIRL..............

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serene-sun · 6 months

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖞 𝕺𝖓 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓, 𝕻𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖎𝖉𝖌𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖊

Summary: After a multitude of wrong doings at your catholic church, you and four other nuns are sent on a mysterious transfer to a ministry nobody dares speak of. On behalf of the Count Copia, you are welcomed after a suspenseful journey. Author Note: This is the first chapter to my new series based on some of my favorite movies like Dracula, The Phantom Of The Opera and Labyrinth. You might even get some references to some others as well as a few ghost lyrics. This is going to be a build up to smut, and this will be a romance one obviously but beware this is major corruption kink coming your way. If you need some help, the ghoul in this chapter is Aether, and half of this is quite literally the exact script of Dracula. You can even look it up and see! Please enjoy, all feedback in my inbox is greatly appreciated.

Chapter one of my new series, “𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕺𝖋 𝕾𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘”

In a Coach in the Carpathian Mountains, a young woman reads to four passengers from a travel brochure.

“Among the rugged peaks that frown down on the Borgo Pass are found crumbling castles of a bygone age.” The woman is knocked from her seat by a bump in the dirt rural road.

“I say, driver, a bit slower!” Another woman says, her black veil crooked as she shakes in the mobile.

“No, no! We must reach the mountain before sundown!” The driver says, a crack in his voice as the silent erie sound of the forest starts to swallow all sounds.

‘And why, pray?” One of the female passengers asks, closing the bible in her lap.

“When the sun sets the demons start evoking the mountain side like raging wolves and hyenas, desperate for any vulnerable being to feast upon!” The driver replies as they are enveloped in a cloud of fog, the steep road getting more bumpy.

You held tight onto the rosary in your hands, a charm of Jesus Christ on the cross between your palms as you listen to the man speak.

As the vehicle stops in the center of the small village on the ridge, the passengers eagerly step out of the transport and into the rich moist soil. This is a small village of three homes and one or two inns, mainly farmland and water sources as it fits in a small acre.

A woman from the nearest inn steps out of the entrance as chickens follow, her hair is in a messy bun and there is soot smudged across her face and clothes with a few patches holes in her dress and apron.

“Oh dear, let me help with your luggage sisters.” She says, wiping her hands on her sides to rid of the grim.

“Oh do not worry madam, we are to arrive up top the mountain by tonight.” you say as she grabs a leathery bag.

“Tonight? But the sun is already half set? The gate keeper, he is afraid. Good fellow, he is. Wants me to ask if you can wait to go on after sunrise.” She says as she sets the luggage back into the trunk.

“Im dearly sorry but im afraid we have specific orders from our adviser to be there by sundown, and I fear we are already late.” You reply, hands still clasped together.

Was what the driver said true? Why would it? Perhaps he was only trying to scare the group of young women.

“And who needs you on the mountain? Who sent you faithful young holy women to the dark abbey?” The innkeeper says in disbelief, she studies the very christian and catholic constant theme on the luggage and clothes.

“Count Copia, I assure you, we are here on holy deeds.” You say, willingly ignoring the description of the abbey, surely it was not truly an unholy place, it was an abbey after all.

‘Count Copia? And to the ministry?” She hides her hands in her apron pockets with her brows knitting.

“Yes.” You nod slowly, unsure of what she means, is he not the holy man they were sent to serve?

“No, you mustn't go there. We people of the mountains believe at the castle there are devils. Count and his ghouls! They take the form of wolves and bats, goats and succubi. They leave their coffins at night, and they feed on the blood of the living.” She says, placing her hands on your shoulders and eagerly rushing you inside, “Look at the sun! Its already gone, come we must go indoors.”

“But thats all superstition. Why I…I cant understand why…” You try to reason as the door is slammed shut after the other nuns enter.

“But wait, I mean, just a minute. What im trying to say is that im not afraid. I've explained to the driver that its a matter of holiness and god filled right, We've explained it and we must arrive soon.” You say as she pokes at the fire, letting out a cough into her hand.

“If you must go then take this for your mothers sake,” the innkeeper hands you a small vile of blood, “This will protect you..”

‘W-what is it?” You ask, the other sisters surrounding you in curiosity.

“The blood of christ!” She says, eyes wide with fear.

For a moment you feel the need to call help for the woman, she must be a poor paranoid soul. And there is no way she of all people would have the blood of christ.

The sisters gather back into the small mobile and quickly ride upon the foggy dark mountain as the red piercing sun drowns in the horizon.

When the car stops in the pitch black court yard, the car hurriedly drives away.

“Wait! Driver! Our luggage!”

The groups attention is brought back to the stone path to the large entrance doors as it is lined with lit candles that come of flame. The dancing red light illuminates them to follow, you take the lead, as you seem to be the least terrified.

You push open the large black doors and step into the Obsidian floor of the main castle. Its dark just like outside and candles suddenly egnite.

The nuns look around the room, taking in the shadowed paintings, murals, and stained glass.

A footstep spooks you as the sound comes from a taller man at the top of the main stair case.

“G-Good evening.” You bow your head slightly in respect as you can only make out his shape.

“I am…Count Copia..” He says, thick italian accent in his voice as he begins stepping down the long stairs.

“Its very good to see you. I don't know what happened to the driver and our luggage and…well…with all this..I thought I was in the wrong place.” You say, hoping to not sound rude, but there wasn't a cross in sight and the stained glass showed depictions of devilish things instead of virgin mary and jesus.

“I bid you welcome.” The count says,

Outside the large windows, there the howl of a wolf.

“Listen to them…children of the night. What music they make!” He smiles hauntingly.

The older man starts walking off down a corridor lined with paintings and candles. The hall is painted dark red with black trim. One candle stick is consumed with spider webs, it catches your attention as you follow.

“A spider spinning his web for the unwary fly. The blood…is the life, Ms…” He invited you to say your name.

“Ah of course, My name is Sister _, from the western Catholic church of god.” You say with another pleasing bow.

The man hums, his eyes darkening, “Im sure you will find this part of the ministry more inviting.” He says as he opens the doors to a larger room, it has five beds, dressers, nightstands and even an chest at the foot of every bed. Theres two couches on either side of a coffee table in the center of the room, accompanied with a vase of dead roses, a fire place, and two other chairs of black leather. What is most questionable is why the room is a circle, not one corner.

‘Oh rather! Its quite different from outside. Oh, and the fire! Its so cheerful.” You say with a smile.

“I took the liberty of having your luggage brought up. Allow me.” He says as he takes the groups wool capes, he hangs them on a coat rack.

‘Oh yes, thank you.” One of the sisters says as she sits on the neatly made bed.

The room is painted a deep purple, black trims and wall designs. The curtains over the large windows were a pitch black, and the beds were of black steel and neatly covered with purple silk sheets and purple cotton. The room was lit with candles and a chandelier.

You pick up the letter on the bed, but you accidentally cut your finger on the sharp note card.

As a droplet of blood rolls down your finger, the man quickly turns away.

“Oh dear im sorry, its just a paper cut, I didn't know you were squeamish.” You apologize as you grab a napkin cloth and hold it.

“The infirmary is on the main hall to the left, I hope you shall never need it.” He says as he holds his hands behind his back.

“Thank you,” You smile.

‘I will have a ghoul take you there, and get a bandage.” He says with a large swallow.

You tilt your head, “ghoul?” You ask, what is with this odd abbey?

Suddenly, out of the darkness of the room, a masked entity approaches you. His silvery devil mask shines in the candle light, through the slit shines his piercing white eyes, pupils so thin and slit like a snake your unsure if they're even there or if its the shadows playing tricks on you. Hes in a nice suit attire, a skull tie and button up pants. His dark hair is slightly wavy and is cut short at his ear and neck, he has a calming presence and you notice his ears are long and pointed. You take in the fact that this man was not infant human, but rather a demon.

So the innkeeper was correct? About unholy ghosts here?

He leads you to the infirmary, the walk there is silent as you continue to study his form. He has a spaded tail, and his hands are a pale muted purple and his veins are visible in a lighter white color. The ghoul had long sharp claws too, as well as a thicker build.

He opened the door to the infirmary, he lets you sit down as he gathers materials to address the minor cut.

As he comes back, he kneels in front of you and takes your hand. The pads of his fingers are rough but smooth, hes very gentle and has a calming affect to him.

You swallow, your afraid to speak.

The ghoul parts his lips, like hes about to speak but doesnt know what to say, “Your heart is racing.” he says, deep voice like a deep cave filled with echos and shadows. Its warm and heart filled, he truly means no harm.

Your hands tremble as you shiver, “w-what?”

‘Ah uh…sorry…I meant that your frightened and there is no need too be.” He quickly blurts out, like he hasn't talked to a stranger in years.,

“This is not what i was expecting..” You say as you start to ease up.

“Nobody does, don't worry, you are safe.” He says as he cleans the wound.

“This…is not a place of god is it..?” You finally ask as he lets go to cut a piece of gauze to use.

“No. It is not.” He looks into your eyes.

You had the feeling that when your church said they were moving you, that it wasn't because you were the best sister of god there. You had started asking to many questions and you always knew that when they transferred people it was never for the better but to rather rid of the so called delinquents that questioned god. In a way you knew you would be thrown out, but not like this and to the wolves.

“Im sorry…I just…I don't want to die..” you start to tear up, ‘I don't want to burn for eternity.”

The ghoul quickly looks up at you, ‘no no no don't worry,” He chuckles, “Your not going to die here and you wont burn for eternity, I doubt god even knows you exist.”

Your taken aback some, “But don't you eat people? Kill us for blood? Sacrifices and such?”

“Your demonology books are far outdated…” He says as he wraps your finger.

“So….you ghouls are…kind?” You say, standing up.

He nods, “yes, everyone here is.”

You look down at your feet, “I apologize, I feel I need to introduce myself and start over.”

The ghoul stretches his hand out, “You may call me Nameless Ghoul.”

You take his hand, “Im Sister _, I hope we can be friends.”

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #serene sun spice time #ghost band #the band ghost x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #serene sun writes #ghost band fic #papa emeritus iv #dracopia #dracula #count dracula

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bamgyw · 3 months

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i haven't posted the recs list yet because i didn't know how to like,, arrange aesthetically within a post. but then i thought Fuck That. this is a raw fucking blog we're about the essence we're about the content, not the aesthetics (i'm being sarcastic, the true reason is that i'm just lazy.)

so anyway, i thought i'd post the recs in a countdown manner until the next six nights part is updated.

i'm gonna give you a song, a book and a movie every day til sunday (lord's day) when the new chapter will be posted.

THE FOURTH NIGHT D-7

a song: eleanor rigby by the beatles

beautiful fucking song in strings and loneliness. the imagery is so gloomy and dark and pretty.

a book: girl in pieces by kathleen glasgow

the themes are very heavy and sensitive, so i recommend you look up the trigger warnings beforehand. i didn't wanna give you some stuffy classic. this is a fairly fast read, but it's still haunting and beautifully written.

a movie: belladonna of sadness by eiichi yamamoto

literally a drug trip but with medieval catholic france and sex demons (literally my taste). i kept thinking about it all the way through writing six nights. it's an extreme exercise of aesthetization of the narrative. it's just prettiness and blood and flowers all over.

#rey recs ✮⋆˙

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demonscantgothere · 2 years

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Okay, some thoughts about Saurondriel in that finale:

The pure literary drama of Sauron and Galadriel. It’s Shakespearean tragedy to the extreme. Halbrand has tried to win Galadriel over as friend and an ally since the beginning of them meeting each other; and it’s obvious it was very important to him that Galadriel was an ally—he had constantly given her unsolicited political advice, and it was all very politically savvy manipulation on how they should make more allies. Hold on for a minute, Galadriel, it is impertinent that Númenor is our friend. Hold on, Galadriel, it’s important that we go behind Queen Míriel’s back in order to exploit her fear and give her a means of mastering it so that we may master her. Hold on, Galadriel, I keep telling you I don’t want to go back to the Southlands, but I know you won’t give up this search for revenge in order to kill me. You will not let me go gently into that good night. You will hunt me down until the end of time. So, I’m going to discourage you from putting a crown on my head, so you keep believing I’m just one of the good guys, and then I’m going to cave in to the idea and Do The Right Thing and save these Southlanders and be their king, to further put the idea into your head that I’m a good person. Then, I’m going to use your bolstering of me in order to build up an army, so that I can use that army against you in the future just in case I need it. Galadriel has twice promised Halbrand an army.

This sounds like a manipulative villain, doesn’t it? Especially to those of you who hadn’t previously explored the dark potential behind Halbrand’s actions yet? Maybe I’m just naturally suspicious at this point in my life, but this guy has given off major red flags since Day One.

And now that it has come out and Galadriel has discovered exactly why he did all of these things—because of his hidden identity as Sauron—everything is going to explode between Halbrand, the Elves, the Dwarves, the Men, and the Orcs. If they all discover who he really is, they are going to try to either (1) murder him, like permanently-destroy-his-spirit murder him or (2) imprison him for all of time because he is literally a war criminal. Sauron is a war criminal who never faced justice, but he’s not just any war criminal. He’s a powerful being, a fallen angel of sorts that is a reflection of Lucifer per Tolkien’s Catholic upbringing. Sauron is our Lucifer Morningstar, guys. That’s literally what he is. He is the Devil. Let me paint a picture for you: Sauron is the dude who will whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he slowly slips the knife into your back and the blood pours down his fingers as he kisses the shell of your ear. I bet he licks his fingers off afterwards, too. That’s literally who this guy is.

Canonically, he had kidnapped people’s lovers and requested surrenders when he had already killed their lovers, and after they showed up to rescue their loved one and attempt a truce, Sauron would say, “Oop, sorry, I shapeshifted into a werewolf and devoured the Love of Your Life,” and then turned around and ate them, too. And I’m not making that up. That’s canon. Let that sink in. Really give that a moment to sink in. That’s Tolkien canon.

That got intense now, didn’t it?

. . . Would you forgive this dude?

. . . And do you really think this guy is going to let anyone imprison him or kill him of all things?

And when they turn on him, he is going to turn on all of them.

We are 100% going to see the moment when Sauron decides to split his soul into two pieces and make a horcrux long before Voldemort made it cool. It’s harder to kill an enemy who has not one, but two souls, isn’t it?

But from Galadriel’s perspective, we are going to see a deeply wounded individual who is in pain over the loss of her family. Over the loss of her brother. In war. She is processing trauma, and Halbrand seemed to be a very good friend. Someone who rescued her when he didn’t have to. Someone who looked out for her. Someone who showed her respect by retrieving the dagger of a brother whom she is still grieving over and returning it to her—an emotional memento to Galadriel that cannot be ever replaced should it be lost, and he got it back for her. Someone who gave her advice that is correct and works. Someone who helped her navigate the need to protect herself by helping her complete her mission, so that she feels safe and happy again. She wants revenge for her brother’s death. Halbrand appeared as though he was helping her to achieve that peace.

Galadriel is not stupid. She is hopeful. She is good. She is grieving war trauma. She is in pain. There is nothing about any of that which is stupid, and it’s insulting and sexist to insinuate it just because Galadriel is a woman. Women are allowed to be clouded by pain, too. You wouldn’t say that if this was male character. And if you would, you think you’re some genius who would see through Sauron’s designs even though all of these other powerful beings couldn’t. “The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world that he did not exist.” Please, spare me the I’m smarter than that speech.

Now that she has learned his identity, this is the truth: no matter his intentions, he lied about who he was to her. This is a person who can no longer be trusted now that his true self is revealed. What else may he have lied about? And how could she ever really trust him again? She wouldn’t, and she shouldn’t. She will turn on him because not only is he is her sworn enemy—he pretended to be something he wasn’t.

Because he lied about one thing for sure, it brings all of the other stuff into question too. Now we can never really know the truth. We don’t know how much of what he said was lies.

She will turn on him. The next step? These two are literally going to go to war against each other. These two are literally going to go to war against each other. And it won’t stop until one of them is dead. An Elvish commander and Dark Lord on opposing sides.

They were always going to come to blows because he is the villain; he has to pay and Galadriel will make sure he pays. Poetic justice will be achieved. Triple the points since it has been implied multiple times that Finrod’s death was directly linked to servants of Sauron, so by proxy he is the reason her brother is dead.

You can tell this same story with two men, but we’ve gotten that story a million times before. We don’t need another Obi-Wan versus Anakin Skywalker moment, do we? And I’m not saying those two stories are the same because they are not—but the effect is still two friends becoming enemies, and they don’t have to both be of the same sex for that story to matter any more or any less. Their sex or gender has absolutely nothing to do with this. Let’s not be discriminatory here. You wouldn’t whine if Sauron tricked a male. You are saying a woman has more responsibility to not let herself be tricked by a man than another male does, and that’s Victim Blaming 101. That’s the equivalent of asking, “What was she wearing?” It doesn’t matter what she was wearing, he took advantage of her and that’s on him, not her, so sit down and shut the fuck up and listen.

Sauron’s deception and betrayal ran deep during this time. He lied about who he was with every new powerful friend he made, from the Elf lords to the Dwarf lords and beyond. And a lot of people, including a lot of Elves, fell for it. That’s canon. Why are people mad that . . . this is what’s being written for the story in the show? That’s literally what Tolkien wrote. And why not have Galadriel as our protagonist, so we don’t have all male heroes which was a huge complaint about the original The Lord of the Rings? Galadriel gets to be our betrayed hero who avenges her family instead of Elrond. Galadriel canonically lost family in that war in ways Elrond did not. Giving her the anger and the revenge to play the task of our hero makes more sense as the War with Morgoth affected her more deeply. Did you really wanna give the main hero position to, what, an original character? That would have been horrific. Please, Galadriel is right here, and she’s a wonderful protagonist.

It’s literally canon that Sauron was a masterful liar and deceiver. Hello, Lucifer Morningstar. Oh my God, Charlie Vickers delivered. I really want to see his audition tape, tbh. He delivered all and more.

I mean, he lied because he’s literally Satan and a war criminal on top of that—a war criminal in survival mode on the run and Galadriel has already admitted to him that she is going to hunt him down until the end of time to make him pay for that, so why not be her friend/lover and betray her first before she can betray him? You’re talking about two immortal beings here. This will never end until one of them kills the other.

Triple points if he accidentally falls in love with her in the process, but that’s just me pointing out the popularity of the whole enemies to friends to lovers back to enemies thing.

It’s a great overall dynamic. Sauron worships Galadriel while she wants to kill him. She isn’t going to change him; she’s going to try and kill him. Oh yes, please. Give me that. I want her trying to slit his throat while he makes moon eyes AT HER. The base dynamic is pretty riveting storytelling when you start looking ahead at what’s to come with the upcoming war.

Honestly, it’s a great story that’s going to unfold and I can’t wait to see what direction they take this.

#trop spoilers #halbrand x galadriel #galadriel x halbrand #haladriel #galadriel x sauron #sauron x galadriel #galadriel #halbrand #halbrand is sauron #sauron!halbrand #the rings of power #rings of power #trop

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synesindri · 1 month

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so admittedly i did think it was a little bit random when they started calling the mutineers a coven but i've seen the light now so here are my thoughts on this kickstarted by this description of a common 19th century british witch archetype:

literary representations of witches would also be underpinned by popular tales recorded by folklore collectors in most parts of Britain, which portrayed such people as utterly wicked, possessed of all too effective magical powers, and ending up brutally punished by death or injury

— ronald hutton, "Witches and Cunning Folk in British Literature 1800–1940," p29

1. "utterly wicked." i mean. no justification needed for this one probably.

2. "possessed of all too effective magical powers." not directly, but hickey is weirdly unaffected by sickness and starvation and exposure and exhaustion compared to the others (a lot of his off-the-rails behaviors/mentalities later on do map on reasonably well to symptoms of lead poisoning and other things going on, but like, he isn't bleeding or losing teeth and i would sell my soul for my skin to look the way his does even during the very worst of everything, so). he also clearly has a lot of power over many of the men, in an understandable leadership way that is more reliant on charisma, bribery, planfulness, and situations than magic, but it does seem kind of magical at times

3. "ending up brutally punished by death or injury." hard to get more brutally punished than literal bodily bifurcation. the rest of the "coven" likewise meet brutal ends.

4. devil shenanigans. lots of focus during this time period in british lore on witches and devil worship. obviously the tuunbaq is not a or the devil and it is troubling to suggest as much (even in its role as a fabricated entity that does not actually belong to the culture it has been inserted into). nonetheless, it is presented fearsomely in a way that seems likely to be understood as demonic or hellish by a christian crew such as the men of terror and erebus (it might even be described as such canonically? i don't remember specific examples and i haven't checked). certainly everyone has a good christian "avoid that thing" reaction to the tuunbaq — everyone except hickey, who finds it appealing and sees an opportunity to seek power through it, much as folkloric and literary witches of the era were depicted as doing through the devil.

5. christian inversions and rejections. the mutiny arguably really kicks off with the murder of lt. irving, the most outspokenly christian person in the group. christ symbolism through the "punished as a boy" scene through framing and posture. as lt hodgson so kindly spells out for us, cannibalism and (catholic) communion both involve the consumption of human blood and flesh. at mutineer supper time i was briefly convinced they were about to say grace (totally subjective on that one but whatev). hickey going up the hill to listen to his thoughts was very prophet-like imagery. hickey's final speech rejects god and religion. probably there are more examples but i think that's enough for this post that is already longer than i planned for it to be.

6. sexuality part 1. witches of the time and place were associated with non-normative sexual practices (including homosexuality, promiscuity, femdom, sexual coersion, so on and so forth). hickey is directly depicted in a sexual and romantic relationship with another man (who is also the one who first suggested mutiny in the first place, solidifying the narrative importance of the connection between gay people and mutiny. be gay do crimes but for serious). idk what the stance in general fandom scholarship is about the hickey-tozer dynamic, but i would say that is plausibly depicted as at least being implied to be not 100% heterosexual, which is particularly notable because that has important potential effects on how the power structure of the mutineer camp works — a chaste rank-based collegiality has a very different vibe than a situation where the main guy in charge and his second in command might be fucking (or kissing, or holding each other's faces in a sort of tender pseudo-religious way, or whatever else they might have been getting up to together) — this is getting a bit off from witchcraft but certainly there are many comparable depictions of witches coercing powerful men to do their bidding by using sexuality (see my non-existent au i just thought of just now that's based on lewis's the monk, i guess???)

7. sexuality part 2. witches also were notorious for doing castration to people. sorry, irving.

8. sexuality part 3. perhaps most notably witches were regarded as having sexual relationships with the devil. none of the mutineers ever gets it on with the tuunbaq obviously (although i feel confident that some adventurous fic writers out there have probably made this a subject of their study), but it is KIND of attempted symbolically. i talked about this already but it bears repeating here that the tongue is an erogenous body part generally, and there is possibly some mild extra narrative emphasis on that symbolism for hickey specifically, so the metaphorical self-castration of him cutting out his own tongue and offering it to the tuunbaq is a little bit giving weird sex. it's also giving nun/priest/monk-like disavowal of the potential for (at least a few types of) sex with human beings in favor of pledging oneself to a deity.

9. human sacrifice. common trope with witches, and the clear point of hickey's dragging everybody up that hill with him when he goes also to attempt to sacrifice part of his own human self to the tuunbaq.

10. identity. this is a little less solid but there's often kind of a sense that witches aren't who they claim to be? see lewis's the monk again, with (spoilers, i guess) the character of monk rosario revealing himself actually to be matilda, a seductive witch, who eventually does a double reveal that she's a demon. the "i'm not really cornelius hickey" reveal is giving that, a bit.

#'sin must you always write SUCH long posts about devil things' YES i must!#the terror #cornelius hickey #terrorposting

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maedelin · 4 months

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X-Men Vol 6 #35/#700

It ended like I thought it would; every mutant we need to come back is given the chance to. Every chance we could to synthesize the stories of the past, we did. This was a phenomenal era, even if you didn't like the story, we haven't seen this level of coordination across so many books and so many teams in the X-Office. To date.

I'd like to take another moment to talk about the implications they're laying here: Like Moses, unable to enter the holy land, so too are our favorite mutants unable to enter their Promised Land. Yes, the story puts the onus on the characters, which the story must do. They need to decide whether or not they wish to remain behind. Though, my own gleefully bitchy personal headcanon is that Exodus was asked to stay behind. Because Krakoa didn't want to deal with him yet.

Aside from it being those who remain; it's perfect for the story and narrative. Their reactions are beautiful. What they made is something to be proud of. They partook of it for a time, and may once again. But the tools were damaged in the making. They aren't ready, perhaps they aren't made for Krakoa. But for a moment, they saw the dream realized. The work was done. It was not the ending of the work, but it was the ending of the work on Krakoa. (A small Wheel of Time reference. Not the ending, but an ending...) The rest of the world, the rest of this reality waited. And they're going to go back to it; made a little better for spending a short time on paradise.

I'd like to take a moment to point out Gambit's reaction next to Rogue in the last group shot of everyone, with tears. Gambit is not crying, but his gaze is averted. (I added Kurt because we love him) I'm of two minds of it: 1) He is upset, because he wanted to go with that Krakoa and continue on in another reality, like when he almost ascended to Heaven in X-Treme X-Men. I'll be honest that I like this interpretation because it might be the thing that breaks up Remy and Rogue. Her commitment to duty, and his desire to "set the mountain down". (Yes, two slight Wheel of Time references in one post)

Or, 2) He's just so ingrained when part of his childhood was raised by Catholics who called him literally a White Devil for his dark eyes, that he cannot behold something so holy with his same sinful, mortal eyes. Maybe he thinks he's not good enough to enter Heaven, or even look at it. That makes me sad. Folks know I'm mostly on the side of demanding good character stories for Gambit, even if I want him away from Rogue. I think he deserves to outline himself as the hero he wants to be.

As an aside to that, I actually think the person who would really bring it out of him would be to have him date Frenzy. The two of them are on similar journeys and are very near to each other's story paths, in a meta-textual sense. Both look to be regarded as wonderful heroes, but both feel they haven't super-earned it yet, perhaps. I'd love to see that story.

Anyway, just a few more thoughts as our mutants watched the paradise they built move on without them, into a new tomorrow.

And they into theirs.

#x-men #xmen #x-men vol 6 issue 35 #x-men vol 6 issue 700 #i mean ok sure why not #they never should've ended the first run at 544 #544 #are you kidding me #so unfair #so rude #the lost era indeed #thanks for the memories #krakoa is for lovers #krakoa was for lovers #krakoa

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catholic-character-tournament · 1 year

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Round 5 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Wolfwood

I love him. Man who has no faith in himself or humanity or god with so much blood on his hands, fighting for something he knows he can never see come to fruition in person. He carries his own literal cross and grave marker on his back. Just… he’s so iconic to me.

I'm sure I'm not the first to submit him. But I did it anyway. I hope he wins and I'll do anything in my power to make sure he does

Dude is literally a priest who carries around a giant cross. Yes he uses the cross to murder people but that is besides the point. Also he has a mini church he carries around for on-the-go confession services.

hes literally a priest(hes not a priest in the reboot but he is in the original and thats what matters to Me). he carries around a cross that is actually secretly a gun with guns inside that gun. he runs a church/orphanage. he carries around a portable confession booth and charges people money for it because he is broke as fuck. he dies bleeding out over an alter begging to god for forgiveness he doesnt think he deserves. he is everything to me.

look at this man he's a priest with a cross shaped gun that (spoilers) dies against the side of a church while waxing poetic about life and redemption (/spoilers), this is the Catholic ever.

Wolfwood is liiiiiterally Judas coded in the text. AND his weapon is a massive cross that turns into a machine gun and a LASER. Not to mention his religious trauma. Oh baby. The religious trauma.

Homeboy literally walks around with a giantass 300lb machine gun shaped like a cross called the Punisher. Hes a priest/undertaker depending on what version of trigun you reference. Grew up in a church orphanage. Also literally walks around with a portable confessional box for people to pay to confess to him. Need i say more.

HE IS LITERALLY JUDAS. he is literally leading the jesus allegory to his doom. hes also in love with the jesus allegory (vash). he is also carrying arouns a giant cross rhat is also a gun. hes literally catholic and judas and his tits are perfect. in one piece of official art he's wearing a cross choker. also the catholicism on gunsmoke is about making vash submit. wolfwood looking at that pathetic wet mess of a man oh i can make him submit easily.

He literally carries around a giant cross and is referred to as a priest by multiple characters. also he offers people confessionals

He carries a huge machine gun that is in the shape of a cross that is really heavy (he is strong) and his boobs are huge. So you know hes serving cunt in a god honoring way. Also in trigun 1998 he brings around a small chapel that he uses as a portable confessional and in trigun stampede he holds funeral services as an undertaker which are way overly priced. Also he dies very gayly (basicly confessing his love to his best boy friend forever)

Nick's funny bc he's probably the least Christian acting guy but is literally a preacher. There's a running gag with Vash asking some variation of "what the hell kinda churchman are you?" His gun is a gigantic cross. He rides a shitty motorcycle in the middle of the desert.

ok so thematically the main conflict in trigun is about peace vs violence and its represented by the characters vash and knives respectively. the two aren't /technically/ angels but thematically and through imagery they are and are comparable to michael and lucifer specifically. ANYWAYS. vash and knives are the characters who are constantly pushing and pulling at wolfwood's morality, sort of like a "the devil and god are raging inside of me" kinda deal. his grappling with his morality and faith is a big factor in his character. also he has a giant fucking gun shaped like a cross. and he dies in a church while praying.

Bros an orphan who grew up at a Catholic orphanage and taken away to be trained and genetically changed into a supercharged assassin for interworldly beings that have lots of angel imagery attached. Guy thought he was just going to be taken to become a missonary...instead he got 6 years of religious trauma. He still wears a cross necklace and holds it often. His gun is a literal cross "full of mercy" (its a missile launcher). He never really believed fully in the faith or anything, but the way he interacts with it is FASCINATING. He's jaded by the planet he lives on and his upbringing, and makes him say his most iconic quote: "We're nothing like God. Not only do we have limited powers, but sometimes we're driven to become the devil himself." He prays to a God he doesn't know if he actually believes in, asking for another day— for hope for the human race. The organization hes part of (The Eye of Michael) works for an interdimensional otherworldly being that has an incredible amount of angelic metaphor and imagery attached who intends to purge the planet of humans... and ends up siding with that guy's twin brother who is so Jesus coded it's insane. They are best friends even as Wolfwood is acting under instructions to babysit and watch him for his twin brother. He dies after facing down against his old mentor (named Chapel) and his pseudo brother from the orphanage who was taken into the Eye as well and his Jesus bestie buries him and sticks his cross-gun in the ground after losing his shit crazy style and using his pseudo alien angel Jesus powers to lash out at his brother for being the cause of Wolfwood's death. Rest in peace king

John

he’s a priest. he can punch your lights out. he would never hurt a fly. he has connections in the black market. he gives everything he can to the local orphans. he will not hesitate to play pranks on you. he wants everyone to be happy. he has daddy issues probably. he wants a promotion sososososoooooo bad.

I accidentally submitted the last 5actors name but it’s the same guy

Hey everyone please vote for this man I love him he truely is what we need more of in this world the kindest most relatable character has flaws etc etc. Deserves the world

#john mulcahy #m a s h #mash #m*a*s*h #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #francis mulcahy #FRANCIS JOHN PATRICK MULCAHY #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun

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nanda-writes · 6 months

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College girl sells soul to pay rent (not clickbait)

“So… your last wish is to make a deal with the devil?”

The ghostly woman nodded.

“It won't be possible, look, you need a physical body to perform this type of ritual,” said the medium “and I can't do it for you, because if I did, it would be my soul on sale.”

What if I possess you?

The spirit's voice echoed, the candles in the small clamped room in which the medium worked began to shake, transforming the trinkets scattered around the room into frightening dancing images. This could work… in theory.

“Not going to happen. Possessions are expressly prohibited on University internships. And honestly?” she added “I wouldn't endanger myself for a job that’s not even paid.”

I can pay.

The human raised one of her eyebrows. The candle flames flickered intensely, the ghost was desperate.

“Pay? Sorry, but we don't accept drachmas or whatever currency ghosts use, only cash or pix.”

She was joking, of course. What she didn't expect was the disembodied woman's response.

What's the key?

“Excuse me?”

Your pix, what is the key?

It wouldn't be possible that...?

Is ten thousand enough? Half now, half later.

It's worth a try, isn't it?

The medium shared her key. A few minutes later, she received the following message:

“Bank: Your pix has been received! Vellota ltd. sent you 5.000 reais”

Along with several confused emails by Grandma Vellota.

Looks like someone wouldn't have to worry about rent for a long time.

Kethelyn Correia — 21 years old, necromancy student at the Brazilian Federal University of Mystic Arts — is a medium in desperate need of additional hours for college and money. Kethelyn accepted the first internship that came her way without hesitating, realizing too late it was an unpaid one. Fuck it, we ball.

After months of late rent, days and nights on ramen noodles and various odd jobs to try to survive, selling a soul to the devil didn't seem like a bad idea. Anything was better than going back to her parents' house.

And that's how she ended up, three days later, on Carlos' — a college friend, master's student in demonology and ex-boyfriend — terrace at 2:30am on a Wednesday.

It was a nice evening, the sea nearby brought them a salty breeze, refreshing the warm summer night. The street lights were very close, illuminating the terrace together with the candles, revealing the unceremoniously dragged mess at the corners of the terrace. Carlos said they needed as much space as possible, the chalk circle in the middle of the terrace was the only clean space there.

“Okay, everything’s ready” said Carlos “candles lit, circles drawn, incense burning. Has she memorized the chants?”

Kethelyn nodded, they had practiced on this part together.

Carlos blew out the last match, looking around nervously. His eyes looked big behind the thick glasses he wore, his curly hair dancing with the breeze.

“Great, but seriously, this ghost couldn't have chosen a simpler invocation? Why go full catholic? There’s so many easier options…”

“Her name is Alice, I don't know about the choice for the ritual, but… thank you. Seriously. You didn't need to do all that.”

Kethelyn was being sincere. When she asked for her help, she expected at most a borrowed grimoire and some tips on how to not die.

“No problem, ha,” he replied, hands on his nape “it's the least I can do after that mistake I made.”

The “mistake” in question was the trigger for the end of their relationship. He cheated.

He cheated in a game of uno, shuffling the cards in a way that gave his friend — some 19 year old snake kid he befriended while traveling abroad — the advantage, causing Kethelyn to lose a bet.

“Ah, yes” She sighed, Alice's spirit approached floating upside down.

Hm? Share the tea, sis.

“Mind your own business.”

Rude.

“She’s here?” Carlos asked, shaking hands making the sign of the cross.

“I still can't believe that you work with literal demons, but are afraid of ghosts.” She laughed, “obviously she’s here, she's the one who's going to make the pact, duh.”

“Oh, my saint” Carlos sighed, repeating the sign “You how much of a bad idea this is, don't you?” he spoke gravely “After all, why does she want this? She's already dead!”

“It's quite a story…”

***

Alice Vellota was a young lady from a rich family, you see, her parents were rich, her grandparents were rich, her great-grandparents were rich and so on.

Alice had everything she could want, except the person she loved.

Coming from an extremely Catholic family, it is not surprising that her love for Maria Eduarda, a college friend, was a big scandal. Her parents threatened to disown her if she pursued her love, all empty threats of course. Fortunately, nothing can stop lesbians in love, not homophobic parents, not even death.

But when Maria Eduarda suddenly passed away, Alice was devastated. Her only consolation was the possibility of meeting in the afterlife. She knew Maria Eduarda would be somewhere in hell — she was a Satanist after all — she hadn't gone to heaven! But, she thought, hell is huge... how can I find her among so many people? So, she decided to solve this problem in the most logical way possible, selling her soul.

I'm already going to hell, at least I can ask to be close to her.

The plan was perfect. She home alone and everything was set, she just had to sing the chants and…

A window broke next to her and figures started to circulate around the apartment with loud wailing sounds. It was just the neighborhood kids playing football, but the scare was too much for Alice, she had a heart attack, dying before even starting the ritual.

***

“So, here's the problem. She's supposed to be in heaven now. “Kethelyn explained “technically she didn't make any pact, but the desire to join her girlfriend keeps her on this plane.”

“Why didn't you try… I don't know” Carlos shrugged “convincing her not to go to hell?”

“I tried, believe me.” Kethelyn's eyes were dead-serious “she's as stubborn as a mule.”

“Oh my saint, give me strength…”

“If everything is ready, let's begin.” The necromancer looked at Alice's ghost and signaled her to come “Get in loser, we’re summoning the devil.”

Suddenly, the coastal breeze refreshing the dawn stopped, the candle flames flickered without wind, Kethelyn bent over her stomach, the lights from the nearby street lights went mad. Carlos looked apprehensive when suddenly everything just… stopped.

The breeze, candles and the street lights returned to normal, only Kethelyn remained in the same position.

“Kethelyn? Are you okay?” Carlos asked worriedly. He was about to touch her on the shoulder when she straightened herself on a whim, her curly hair covering half her face, a smile weirdly wide creeping through her face.

“Boo” the ghost mocked him in the deep voice of the possessed, “still afraid, scaredy cat?”

Kethelyn saw everything in third perspective, she saw her mocking smile and Carlos' pale face. It was a funny feeling floating around, was that how her customers felt all the time?

She wanted to tell them both to start straight away, but she had difficulty vocalizing her thoughts, she didn't have a mouth after all. How did Alice do it? In any case, she didn't need to do anything. She saw her body go to the center of the circle, Carlos raised the barrier and sat on top of an old freezer away from the circle, she — or rather — Alice started singing the memorized chants.

As electrifying as a ritual to summon the bad thing itself may seem, it's pretty boring when you're just a spectator. Kethelyn spent the next 15 minutes bored to death — hah! — she passed her time enjoying her choice of outfit for the night, a pair of pink cargo pants and a matching tight crop top — what? You have to look stylish when you're going to meet someone famous, even if it's the devil.

Suddenly, a strong smell of sulfur filled the air and an unnatural fog began to rise inside the terrace. From within the fog lights glowed like flames.

There he was.

***

Kethelyn had a lot of expectations about the devil, but she wasn’t expecting that. A white man, bald, wearing a polo shirt and the most hideous goatee. Hadn't Lucifer been the most beautiful angel in heaven? What a glow down.

Disappointing.

The Demon stood still for a while, staring. All the corporeal beings present froze. He might have an ordinary appearance, but his aura certainly matched his fame.

“…So?” The Evil One broke the silence “What do you want, mortal?”

Kethelyn saw her body swallow hard, her hands shake. Alice finally took courage and said:

“I wan…” she hesitated “I want to have a reserved place, for me Alice Vellota and my girlfriend Maria Eduarda Almeida, in hell. A place where we can be together.”

The Fallen Angel raised an eyebrow.

“I want so that the moment this soul of mine leaves this body,” Alice kept going, more confident this time “I go straight to hell and meet her.”

Sathanas began to laugh.

“In so many centuries of work” his laugh was strondous “this is the first time I've seen someone who wants to go to hell!”

He continued laughing for a few more minutes, bending over himself and slapping his knees.

“So…” Alice was distressed “you accept the deal?”

“Ah, that, err…” Old Harry wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “No.”

“Why?!”

“Sweetheart, do you think I'm stupid?” He said in a fake-offended voice. “I know that the soul inside this body died a long time ago.”

He laughed mockingly.

“I am the devil” he stretched the last word as if he was RuPaul “having the courage to lie in the face of the father of lies?” he clapped his hands sarcastically “You’re a real one, baby.”

Kethelyn could see her shaking, Alice must have been desperate.

“To tell you the truth,” The enemy continued, looking at Alice again “your soul is worthless to me. But hers…” Kethelyn didn't have a body at the moment, but she felt her soul shiver the moment Satan made eye contact with her, grinning. “Oh, her soul is very precious”

Why did she think he wouldn't be able to see her? He was the devil!

Carlos, who was just watching, felt chills when he saw The Old One pointing into thin air, he did not need to see her to know.

The devil wanted Kethelyn.

***

The Serpent made Kethelyn and Alice switch places, the sale of a soul should not be done by third parties, and Old Nick was more than willing to buy Kethelyn's.

“Not gonna happen.” Kethelyn denied the moment she got her body back.

“Come on, dear” insisted the prince of darkness with the warm gentleness of a salesman. “There must be something you want, do you want me to help you summon more souls for your studies? I can make all the sinners in hell available to you! You want money? Fame? I can do it in the blink of an eye! I have great references, artists loved me in the 90’s. Just tell me your price.”

“Can you help me get my degree while keeping my mental health?

“Unfortunately, reality-bending miracles are my father’s department.”

“Then no,” Kethelyn was determined “I know what you want me for. I will not send innocent souls to your domain. I may work with spirits, but I still have decency.”

Beelzebub took a deep breath.

“Well, I wasn't called here for nothing.” His facade fell, the warm voice gave way to a cold, cruel tone. “Either you give up your soul, and stay alive for another nine years... or you both come with me to hell, now.”

That was the last straw. Carlos ran through the old furniture and Nick Nacks squashed on the terrace to get the holy water and his other emergency supplies. If he had to fight the devil, so be it, but he wouldn't let him take her friend.

However, before he could invade the barrier, Carlos heard a yelp:

“Wait!”

It was Kethelyn.

“Lucifer Morningstar, I challenge you to a duel!”

Carlos wanted to tear out his own eyes, Lucifer grinned.

“And what are your terms, mortal?”

“If I win, you leave me alone and fulfill Alice's wish.”

“What if you lose?”

“...You can have my soul, as long as you fulfill her wish anyway.” She looked in the direction of Alice's ghost. “I know that fulfilling her wish is no big deal for you.”

From outside the barrier, Carlos was jumping, shaking his head, making an ‘’x’ with his arms, and mouthing ‘nooooooo’'. Kethelyn might be crazy, but she wasn’t suicidal, was she?

Was she?!

Lucifer pretended to think really hard.

“Okay, I accept your terms.” he smiled “And what do you challenge me to, little girl?”

Kethelyn smirked.

“Uno.”

Carlos was banging his head on the support pole of the terrace, and Alice — if she had eyes — would have them wide open in shock. They both thought the same thing:

She wants to kill herself!

***

“I'm sorry I didn't notice you before, Carlinhos!” Lucifer patted an inconsolable Carlos on the back.

The barrier had been broken, but Lucifer could not and did not want to attack any of them until the end of the challenge.

“It’s okay, Mr. Capiroto… it’s okay” Carlos repeated defeatedly. The two had met before, college projects can take you to unusual places, huh?

“So” Lucifer looked at Kethelyn “how does this… uno thing work?”

Kethelyn and Carlos looked at each other.

If the devil doesn't know how to play uno... they have a chance!

Carlos' eyes shone. Kethelyn looked at him smugly as if she had predicted this from the beginning — although it wasn't the case.

The humans took turns explaining to the prince of hell the rules of the esteemed — and supposedly — human card game, even Alice tried to help, mentioning observations and details the couple missed.

***

The clock was already striking at 3 am when the game actually started. Carlos raised another barrier for the participants. This particular barrier prevented either of them from cheating, a necessary measure for those playing with the devil.

The house rules say that the deck must be shuffled facing away from the players by someone who is not participating. As the only corporeal being left, Carlos had to take the dealer's role.

Kethelyn and Lucifer sat at the table found by Carlos somewhere in the mess. They both held their 7 cards from the uno deck, the starting card was in the center of the table, draw deck on the side. Carlos took a coin out of his pocket to decide who would start; Heads to Lucifer, Tails to Kethelyn.

The coin was tossed. Seconds of tension dragged on like hours. The coin fell into Carlos' hand. He opened his palm:

Heads.

***

It begins, Kethelyn's cards had nothing special, just a +2 red card as a special card and a predominance of reds, leaving with only one card for each other color.

The initial card, taken from the draw deck, was a green 3.

Lucifer started his attack, immediately launching a +2 green card. Kethelyn was unfazed, launching her red +2 card, doubling the attack and reversing the damage. Kethelyn, however, did not expect Lucifer to have a trick up his sleeve, as he placed another card in the pile.

+4.

Kethelyn had no way to counterattack this time, the medium let out a frustrated sigh as she picked up her eight cards: three red, three green, one blue and a special card, a red reverse.

“Color?” asked the medium.

“Yellow.”

Kethelyn nodded and threw three cards of number 7 into the pile, the bottom one yellow, the top one red.

Lucifer had no choice but to draw and place the same color.

Kethelyn places her red reverse card — drawn from the batch she just took — and then two number 4 cards, red and green.

Lucifer draws again and soon passes.

Neither red nor green cards… maybe the advantage is coming back to me. Kethelyn thought.

Kethelyn places her card again, this time two cards numbered 0, green and red, respectively. But the card Lucifer had just drawn was also red, so he places it in the pile combined with another card, changing the game's color to blue.

The game continues with blue cards until the devil places a card numbered 2, where Kethelyn manages to change the game's color to red again. Lucifer draws, and passes. But just one round later, he uses the same trick on Kethelyn, this time changing the color to green, Kethelyn places a card, Lucifer draws and places.

It's number 1, green.

Kethelyn ponders, she has three cards at the moment, the numbers 1 and 6 in red and the number 9 in green. She could try to change the color to red, she knows that her opponent doesn't have any red cards, but it would certainly inconvenience her later. She knows that Lucifer doesn't have any green cards either, and getting rid of the green card would avoid inconvenience, so that was the most obvious option, right?

Kethelyn wasted no time, playing card 9.

Lucifer smiled demonically.

— Uno! — he exclaimed, throwing the yellow card 9 on the table.

Kethelyn wanted to bang her head on the table, how had she not realized he only had two cards? What will she do now? She doesn't have another 9 card and much less yellow cards, she doesn't know the number or color of the last card, if it isn't a special card! She can't lose this game.

I can’t… I can’t…

The necromancer's hands shook as she tried to pull the next card from the deck, so much that the entire deck slid off the table.

Carlos approached it with an intense look, he looked Kethelyn in the eyes, silently asking her to trust him. Kethelyn didn't understand, but trust she did.

Carlos picked up the cards from the floor and explained that he would have to shuffle everything again.

Wait, will he…?

The game of Uno that Kethelyn lost last time was changed after Carlos shuffled the game, he knew many card tricks, including how to manipulate a deck without looking suspicious, and would never hesitate to cheat his way to uno.

But how? The barrier would prevent…

Kethelyn realized.

Carlos was outside the barrier.

The barrier unables Kethelyn and Lucifer to cheat, but that didn't count the Croupier.

When Carlos put the deck back, Kethelyn's hands were stable, she pulled out the top card...

A +4.

Kethelyn almost cried with joy as she threw the card on the table.

Lucifer drew his cards resignedly and asked the color:

“Red.” Kethelyn felt triumphant.

Lucifer played his card and Kethelyn followed without any problems, this time she was the one shouting Uno.

She placed the red 6 card. The only card left in her hand was the red number 1.

But instead of passing, the devil placed a new card on the pile.

A yellow 6.

Kethelyn felt a growing despair. She still had a chance, but it was frustrating. She was so close…

The human pulled a card from the deck and almost cried with joy for the second time that day.

It was number 1 in yellow.

Kethelyn could hardly believe her luck.

“I won!” Kethelyn announced, throwing the letter into the pile and standing up. “I won!”

Lucifer sighed mockingly.

“It seems so” he replied, and added, narrowing his eyes “this time.”

Lucifer stood up, assuming a relaxed posture as he looked in Alice's direction.

“Are you coming or not?”

The spirit looked dazed, her form flickering like candlelight.

“Already?”

“Isn't that what you wanted? No going back now.”

“Yes, yes” Alice alternated her gaze between Lucifer and Kethelyn “I just need to do one thing first, quick.”

“You know you can't run away, right?”

“I know!” She yelled before disappearing.

Lucifer looked at Kethelyn and Carlos.

“Don't think it's over yet, kids.” He gave another devilish smile. “I have as many tricks up my sleeve as you.”

Alice returned before the humans could respond.

“Let's go!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, let's go.”

Lucifer looked at the couple one last time, and pointed his two fingers first at himself, then at them in an “I'm watching you” sign, and disappeared into the darkness.

Before Kethelyn could open her mouth, a notification.

Bank: your pix has been received! Vellota ltd. sent you R$5,000.

Carlos looked at the cellphone screen clearly impressed.

“You know,” he broke the silence. “I kind of saved your life just now, so, I don't know... you could buy me a burger? As a thank you.”

Kethelyn smirked.

“Yeah, I guess we're even now, huh? I don’t know if there’s a burger place open at this hour, how about an açaí?

“Deal.”

They laughed.

Kethelyn wouldn't have to worry about rent for a long time.

#original #mystical uni shenanigans #writing #writeblr #paranormal comedy #paranormal writing #urban fantasy #artists on tumblr

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lesbocs · 1 year

Text

FINAL ROUND FOR THE LESBIAN OC BRACKET 2023!

MARIYAM BASKERVILLE (she/they) (@upvote)

"hiii!!! this is a character from a horror rpg maker game series that perhaps one day i will make.

mary is a poor pathetic meow meow final girl who has doomed the narrative itself. she has the ability to see anomalies (ghosts, demons, spirits, etc-- basically anything supernatural) but nobody believes her. she's a student at an all girl's catholic school in rural ohio in a vaguely post-apocalyptic timeline who is relentlessly bullied by her peers for being weird and neurodivergent and she has a sucky home life so all around she's having a terrible time. she's kind of eccentric and super into the occult, which in the good catholic town of woolwick is not accepted at all. her only ally is her older brother, callum, who she is very dependent upon but he apparently runs away from home shortly after a fight between the two of them. (it's a misunderstanding, he has his own demon stuff going on) and she's left in her senior year of high school feeling like shit.

so yeah life hates her and she hates life back. but !!! her solution to her very vitriolic misanthropy and unhappy circumstances is to open a portal to hell and allow her fucked up town to be consumed by it. on devil's night (the night before halloween, where kids play pranks and throw toilet paper at houses and etc) she sets her plan into motion and manages to find her way into getting roped up in the hijinks of a group of misfits (all students her age at the catholic girls school and all wlw and most of them are pretty nice actually) and horror game shit ensues with her getting involved in too because she's just a strange beast motivated by years and years of resentment and didn't really plan shit out… but she survives in the true end yay ^__^ sort of. schrodinger's cat girl.

she plays a vaguely overarching antagonistic role in the series over all but her intentions slowly become more benign as the story progresses… also she develops weird homoerotic enemies to allies to friends to STABS YOU IN THE BACK relationships with two of the other girls in the cast. idk mary is just a silly quirky trans autistic lesbian and yes she wants to destroy the whole world in her grief for her brother and the life she never had but she looked cute doing it!!!"

you can learn more about her here! (art for mariyam by pommeplisa on twitter)

🧡💛🤍💗💖

REAH (she/her) (@sev-wildfang)

"Not only does Reah beat up homophobes and transphobes for a living, she also literally astral projected out of her body to protect her femme once. It cost her an arm but not her charm. She ran away from a Church orphanage at age 12, she's Lucifer's personal chosen, she's 7ft tall (not counting the horns), she radiates warmth, and speaks with the drawl of a corn-fed southern gentlebutch. Let her into your heart or she might cry."

you can learn more about her here!

#final round #tournament 2023

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blue-rose-soul · 2 months

Note

The Devil's Dear Friend - A What if?

Alastor's connection to Lucifer was overwritten when he tried to save his mother from her employer and was killed first. He ended up in heaven for his sacrifice.

Nicaise was not granted the same reward. One moment she was screaming and holding her son, the next she was alone and staring up at a blood red sky.

A century later, Charlie hears a knock on her door and opens it to find a fierce overlord literally marked by grief and wearing a bright smile. "Hello Princess! I heard you're looking to make some changes around here?"

I was about to start with how hypocritical that would be of Heaven, since the whole reason Nicaise even got in that altercation with her employer is because she was trying to protect Alastor in the first place. Then I remembered; Heaven's leadership is hypocritical, and even they don't know what the requirements to get in are.

I've always depicted Nicaise as a friendly and sweet person, but most of my posts about her take place after she'd been living in Heaven for almost a century. While she is a shrewd person who was suspicious of Heaven's leadership and knew there was something not quite right, she still lived in relative safety and comfort for a long period of time and could afford to relax her guard. On Earth she had it quite a bit harder as a woman of color as well as a single mother. Especially in the early 1900s. I imagine Nicaise as someone who actively chose to take joy wherever she could, but also a grounded person who did what she had to to make sure she and Alastor were okay. Nicaise took great pains to never let Alastor see her struggle and give the impression she always had every situation under control.

Gee, sounds familiar, don't it?

She built herself a strong support network, making as many friends as she could. During the day she cleaned wealthy people's homes and at night she played piano at the bar, to put food on the table. She made connections in both places, with other servants, with the bar staff and patrons, with shopkeepers and store owners, with just about anyone she could strike up a conversation with. She knew how to trade favors and get discounts and was able to build a relatively comfortable life even after her parents passed and she had no other family to help support her and Alastor.

In Hell, Nicaise again does what she needs to to survive. Even if that means making deals. I'm a little undecided on what sort of powers Nicaise would develop if any. In the main branch of the the Devil's Bastard AU I decided that the person Alastor made a deal with Eve, and that she specifically chose him because he is Lucifer's son. But Eve doesn't have any way of knowing about Nicaise mothering Lucifer's child in the Devil's Dear Friend so I don't have a reason for her to make a deal with Nicaise. She wouldn't manifest with overwhelming magical power like Alastor did, she would have to slowly build it up over time. Nicaise grew up Catholic because of her father, but her mother was vodou practitioner, so there could be some overlap in their abilities as Nicaise gets stronger.

So Nicaise forms connections, begins building a power base. Along the way she meets and befriends Rosie, and at some point or other sinners start looking to Nicaise for protection. Becoming an Overlord isn't something Nicaise set out to do, but she wields the title with pride. Sure, she's grown more ruthless over the years, more bloodthirsty, and sure, she hasn't thought about her son in... years now.

She did mourn at first. But these days she's, well, she's not exactly happy about it, but Nicaise is at least satisfied with the knowledge that Alastor is safe in Heaven. She has some criticisms but at least she knows her child isn't in any danger of being hunted down by an exorcist, or any of the more commonplace dangers of Hell. It's bittersweet, and she can't help but wonder why they had to take her away from her child, but on the day-to-day her main concern is with survival.

Eventually she does learn about the Royal Family and Princess Charlie Morningstar, but it isn't until Charlie's segment with Katie Killjoy that Nicaise actually gets an opportunity to meet her. Nicaise isn't sure what to make of the Happy Hotel project. She's not opposed to the idea that people could change for the better but, given she doesn't even know what she did to end up in Hell, she's not so certain Heaven would accept any damned souls even if they did. And as an Overlord, she knows full well how dangerous it is to show even a slight amount of weakness.

Still, she's intrigued. How could she not be? This girl is the Princess of Hell and she's trying to change one of the fundamental rules of How Things Work. Nicaise could get some answers. She could learn what she did that was so terrible that she was condemned to an eternity in Hell for it. She might even get a chance to see Alastor one last time.

If nothing else, there is an opportunity to get in good with the Princess of Hell, a powerful ally to be sure. Unlike most of the fools in Hell, she knows better than to dismiss Charlie's power just because she doesn't flaunt it.

At first she's not really counting on getting to meet Lucifer again just because she's made contact Charlie. After all, while Charlie was running around post-extermination rescuing survivors and treating their injuries, Lucifer remained holed up in isolation. Frankly, after her initial surprise that that little goofball she met at Mardi Gras years ago was Lucifer himself, she didn't think too much of him. He'd been out of reach to her for so long, and Nicaise preferred to focus on things within her scope of influence. When Charlie invites Lucifer to the Happy Hotel a month before the early extermination, Nicaise doesn't even expect him to recognize her.

He does. He very obviously does. Not only can she see it, so can everyone else with the way Lucifer stares at her, eyes wide, and says her name before being introduced.

Nicaise says the only thing she can think of to break the awkward atmosphere.

"Hello, Luci. I'm here for that child support you owe me."

#ask #anonymous #Hazbin Hotel #the Devil's Bastard AU #the Devil's Dear Friend AU #Alastor's Mother #Nicaise (Hazbin Hotel OC)#Lucifer Morningstar #I won't say Overlord Nicaise is necessarily 'nicer' than canon Alastor #just less overtly suspicious #because she's still very much impacted by her environment in Hell #I think she and Carmilla would get along alright

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akiranzee · 1 year

Text

😇 • ° ` — “ANGEL IN DISGUISE”

-> PAIRINGS: Mammon x f!MC -> SUMMARY: It has been 6 months since you've arrived in the Devildom. You have always believed devils are evil, and now that you're here, in their world, you've gotten far too close to this certain devil, and start to doubt yourself. -> WORD COUNT: 4.3k+ -> CONTAINS: Only fluff, Mammon is being soft, slight Mammon & reader angst, mean brothers, this story may not follow the og story's plot well, reader is a roman catholic, talks of traumas, & Mammon is 5,000 while reader is 23. -> A/N: helloo!! i’m gonna change the storyline a little, like belphie not hating on humans, not getting locked up in the attic, and certainly NOT killing you. this was kinda rushed btw sry lxmao. if any of you are wondering who mammon is, he is a character from the game called "Obey Me!" i recommend that game sm👍.

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------------Complete!------------

You woke up, feeling numb pain on your back, and seeing a quite confusing sight in front of you.

A black-haired man and red-haired man with weirdly greyish skin smiled at you, while the black haired man held out his right hand to you, realizing that you're now currently laying down on a rough floor.

You hesitantly take his hand, assuming that they kidnapped you, but who would ever dare kidnap someone and bring them to this fancy looking place?

You looked around frantically, looking for your friends as they were the last people you were with before you got into this weird looking place.

You heard a man laugh behind you, so you twist your head directly behind you, seeing the red-haired man laugh, while the black-haired one just plainly smiled.

You gave him a confused look, or more of a look that says ‘I need an explanation’ and he easily catched up on it, clearing his throat and started to explain.

“Welcome to the Devildom, Y/N L/N. It is a pleasure to meet you, and before anything else, I'd like to introduce myself. I am Diavolo, ruler of all demons, and I will be crowned as the future king of the Devildom.” Your eyes were full of emotions, mainly, confusion, doubt, and anger.

“This here, is my right hand man, Lucifer. The eldest of the seven demon brothers. He will also be the one to take care of you in your 1-year stay here in the Devildom, and you'll be living with him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation.” Your eyes still wide, as you looked at the black haired man who was still smiling and who was introduced as Lucifer.

“Lucifer, what if you tell her about everything for a change, yes?” Diavolo looked at Lucifer, while this Lucifer man stalked his way towards you, and greeted you with a sort of heartwarming smile.

“Hello. As Diavolo said, I am Lucifer, the one who will take care of you in your whole stay here in the Devildom, and you will be living with me and my brothers in the House of Lamentation. They might cause you a bit of a ruckus and problem, but I'll try my best to handle the situation. Speaking of which, you are chosen to be one of the participants in this exchange student program. You have not need to worry though, as we chose 2 human participants from your world, which means a human will be joining and keeping you company during your stay.” Lucifer explained to you, and you actually were left dumbfounded, understanding literally nothing of what he said and of what was going on. You were about to say something, but someone barged into the door, making you look at them.

“I'm hereeee!” A cheery voice yelled out as soon as they stepped in the room, exposing a white-haired man with tan skin, and in a uniform just the same as what Lucifer is wearing.

“Mammon.” Lucifer, who was smiling so oh nicely to you, turned his sight to this guy who he called Mammon, sending the poor guy death glares.

“Eek. Did I come in the wrong time?” Mammon asked Lucifer, perhaps you could see him tremble, ready to step out the door and maybe run away.

“No. I'm assigning you to take good care of Y/N L/N here,” he stalked towards Mammon, “and if I ever hear a complaint coming from her, I will lock you up in the dungeons. Is that clear?” Lucifer said, threatening Mammon that's still managing to aggressively nod.

Lucifer turned his head towards you, smiling heartwarmingly yet again as if nothing just happened.

“H-Hey, human! C'mere and I'll give ya a tour!” The white haired guy managed to call you out, trying to maintain his posture.

Without any questions asked or words said, you started walking towards him not knowing why your body just moved on its own.

And with that, the both of you left the room. Both of you were quiet at first, but then you started to ask him questions.

“...What's your name?” You asked, breaking the silence.

“I'm the great Mammon!” Mammon answered cheerfully, smiling so brightly at you. You looked at him with visible confusion, thinking that he must be one of those overconfident men that you really hate. You tried to put no thought into it though, and continued asking your questions.

“...Why do you have a name of a demon...?” You question, looking deeply into his eyes.

“...Because I am...?” He answered, looking back at you confusedly.

“W-What do you mean you are?” You stuttered out, starting to feel scared over the fact that this man just called himself a demon.

Mammon was about to reply back, when you heard a voice calling his name.

“Oi Mammon! Give me back my money now will you!? Just die!” The voice yelled out at Mammon, spurting harsh words to him.

You always hated it when people say these kinds of things to other people, as if telling them they shouldn't have been born. Because that's what you were told to. To just die.

“Hey! That's kinda rude don't you think!?” You stepped in front of Mammon while yelling at the indigo-haired guy right in front of you.

You felt rage flow in your veins as you remembered just how horribly your so called parents treated you.

“What the heck!? Get out of my way you human normie!” The indigo-haired guy yelled back at you, also feeling rage flow in his veins.

“H-Hey! Why don’t we just calm down everyone, huh? A-And Levi! I’m givin' them back to you next week!” Mammon stuttered out, trying to break the tension that was going on between you two.

“Next week!? You always say that! And it has been 200 years for your information! I can’t even buy the new limited Ruri-chan figurine because of you! Ugh!” The Levi guy walked off, stomping away and probably going back to his room.

“Well that’s just rude. And 200 years? He put in too much exaggeration when it was probably just 2 months or something. Right?” You turn your head to Mammon, crossing your arms.

“Exaggeration? I admit that I didn’t pay him for literally 200 years plus, but ‘ey, it ain’t my fault I’m too busy.” Mammon replied, but his tone a little bit sad. He still continued to walk off anyway so you followed.

“I don’t get anything at all. I’m in a dream, aren’t I?” You asked, trying to break out from this cursed dream you're in, as this man you're talking to right now is certainly not evil.

“You're kidding, right? I know us demons have more IQ than you humans, but I didn't expect ya to be this dumb.” He says, turning his head slowly towards you.

Ok now that's insulting.

“What? Why do you keep calling yourself a demon? Demons are literally evil creatures. Stop that.” You say to him, feeling uncomfortable.

“Wha- oh my god you dumb human! Din't Lucifer tell ya about all of this exchange student thing!?” Now his head is facing you, face looking visibly annoyed.

“That black-haired man? Like hell I'd believe him. Demons don't even exist, they are just evil myths to us.” You say, facepalming with one hand.

You didn't give this white-haired man any choice, so he did what he could think of doing.

“See? Now I'm a demon!” He says cheerfully, all the while spinning slowly for you to see a better view.

The white haired man that was once in front of you was now gone, replaced by another one that looks just like him, but with wings and horns, like a demon.

“W-What-” You couldn't speak. And if you could, what would you even say? That it's just a prank? A dream? A dream can't feel this real, no. Your knees are even trembling that they have given up and now you're on the floor, looking like a terrified baby.

“W-Wai- Hey! Just chill out!” Mammon said, all while your vision getting blurry, last thing remembering is your head falling into tan skin colored arms.

~~~~~

It was hazy, but you soon adjust to the lighting and open your eyes. And yet, the first thing you see is the white-haired man, or should I say, the great Mammon.

“Phew! You're awake! I swear to diavolo never to do that again or Lucifer's gonna c'mere and kill me!” Mammon said dramatically, while you were still in shock.

"Hey, look. I know this ain't good to hear, but yeah you are in the devildom, world of demons." He said, trying to ease you up a bit. But that definitely did not work.

"Stop telling me all about this demon thing demon thing would you!? Stop making me believe false lies and informations about them! Don't even think that you'd be one of those devilish creatures! Do you even know what you're saying!? I seriously don't know where I am, how I got here, who brought me here, and you just keep telling me all these fake stories of you, and everyone else here being a demon!" You rage out, head whipping, tears threatening to escape your eyes.

Mammon was shocked, he didn't expect that from you, after all, you’re just the curious little thing who's supposed to follow everything by order.

"Ugh.. You just can't understand, can you? Well, whatever. Not my problem anymore, Mammon's headin' out for the casino, make sure ya don't touch anythin’ here in my room. And oh, just stay here would ya? My brothers might see ya and eat ya. Can't have Lucifer feed me to his three headed dog monster or somethin'." And with that, Mammon is now out of the door.

You couldn’t believe it, you never could. How can you even believe it? They’re just myths, evil myths on top of that. And yet this man right in front of you claims that he is? This nice, loud, and kind man?

~~~~~

It was 15 years ago, lightning continuously spreading around your home, the room so dark.

“Dad...?” You called out, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you went down the stairs.

“Run... Y/N run...” Someone cried out, voice so familiar to you, but it’s tone so unfamiliar to you.

You peeked on your living room, horror start to consume you.

Blood. So many blood. It stinks. All red, everything is so red. And then there comes a man lying down on the floor, helpless, looking so dead.

“D-Dad...?” Your eyes widen, realizing, that the man you were looking at, was your dad, the man that raised you, cared you, and loved you.

Run he says. But you never did. You don’t know what to do, what to reply, what to say.

All you could ever think of is, your father is about to die.

The other man, or should I say killer, was about to stab your father with the knife he held on.

Instead of doing something, you just stared there, as blood splashed through your house walls, your father’s breath was cut off.

“Live.” Was his last word, not I love you or any other things a father in his dying breath would say.

But you know damn well that he said that word because he cared for you, loved you, wanted you to live, to survive within the grasp of this killer right in front of you.

Luckily though, the killer didn’t mind you and left the house, but you saw him. He was no close to a human, but a demon.

It was a traumatizing experience for you after all, a child like you could never do anything at that moment, and you regretted not doing anything at that moment. What can you even do at that moment? Because the memories from that night still haunt you, blaming you for your father's death, blaming you for not doing anything at all.

You just wished you'd go back in time and at least try to do something, not just stare at the dying man right in front of you.

One of the reasons for your undying wish to go back in that night was to escape from your mother's harsh grasp.

Sure, she is your mother. But can you even call someone that if they told you, 'you never should have been born'?

The trauma welcomes itself again to you, the feeling you always felt when it welcomes itself to you, hatred, fear, anger, and sadness.

Your hands were shaking, whole body trembling, and you feel your vision getting blurry. Then out of nowhere, Mammon comes back, barging into his very own room, expecting you ran away already, but instead, you were weeping on his shiny floor, hands covering your face.

This was the expression he expected you to show the least, since the very first time he saw you, he already knew you were this strong and brave type of woman, but just like he sees in every movie, they shed tears when they're alone, with nobody to stand on by their side.

So here he goes, trying to rewrite the original story, sitting beside you now.

"Hey... What's wrong? 'M sorry if I was too harsh on ya, it's just that I'm offended 'cause ya don't think 'm telling the truth or somethin' sorry." Mammon tried to ease your crying, his tone slowly comforting you.

Minutes later, your weeping finally stopped, and you looked up at him, saying,

"You don't look like a devil." With that confused eyes of yours.

"Eh? Seriously? I literally have horns and wings. What are ya, blind?" He answers back confusedly too, causing a laughter come out of you.

You never thought a conversation with a demon like this could be... fun.

And then a small 'meow' interrupts the fun session you guys had.

You looked under the bed and found a white furred kitty, and picked it up.

"Wait... is that Satan's pet?" Mammon looked at the kitty, pointing it.

"Who's Satan?" You asked, and just then, Mammon's bedroom door bursted open, revealing a blond haired man with green eyes.

You, of course, got shocked, which accidentally made you loosen your grip on the kitty, making it fall.

"Hey! Mammon! Why did you hide sir cat in your bedroom!?" He said as he picked up the white furred cat who was running towards him after it fell.

"Wha- Hey! I didn't hide it, Y/N here literally found it under my bed! Also, who the hell names their cat 'sir cat'!?" Mammon yelled back, strolling towards the blond haired man.

"I do! And you have a problem!?" Now they're on the verge of starting a fight. You were about to step in, until someone did the job.

"Hey! Why are you guys so noisy!? Ugh! I can't get my beauty sleep because of you guys!" Someone yelled, with both their hands on their hips.

“Ugh! What are y’all doing here!? Get outta my room now!” Mammon yelled pointing his index finger literally to the two people.

“Then stop being so noisy! I can hear your ugly voices from my room!” The person with a sleeping mask answer back, yelling.

It was so noisy, that the bickering already annoyed you, forcing you to yell back,

"Stop it!" And everyone turned their heads to you.

"Oh? What is this, Mammon? Why do you have a pretty looking woman in your room? Hmm, who is she?" The champagne haired man asked, slowly going near you, while also slowly putting his right hand under your chin.

You smacked his hand away though, earning a shocked expression from the three.

"Well well well, you're a feisty one, aren't you? I'm Asmodeus, the avatar of lust, 5th of the 7 brothers." He said smiling, slowly backing away from you.

Asmodeus then elbowed the blonde haired man, who later introduced himself as Satan, avatar of wrath.

All ended well anyway, leaving you and Mammon alone again in his room.

"So..." Mammon spoke up, but was cut off by you.

"I'm hungry." You said, holding your stomach.

"You remind me of Beel, but anyway, let's take you to the kitchen." Mammon said, opening his bedroom door, and you followed him.

"We can dine with my other brothers in the dining hall, if you want." Mammon said, taking a cola from the fridge.

"No thanks, I don't wanna be around people right now." You said, taking a muffin, and chewing on it.

"Well ok then, so what'dya wanna do after this?" He asked, sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe hang out in your room again?" You took a huge bite from your muffin.

You never knew you'd enjoy a demon's company this much, let alone know that one of Mammon's kind was the one that killed your father. But you know damn well this guy can't bring himself to kill someone.

Just then, you guys heard munching too, but it sounded crispy, so of course it isn't a muffin or a cola. You looked to your right to see an orange-haired man, chomping down some lays chips.

"Eh? Beel?" Mammon called out, raising his right brow at the man.

The man didn't even bother to look at Mammon and just continued to chomp his food down.

"Seriously, what are ya doing here? Aren't y'all eating dinner right now?"

"The plates were empty already." The man said with his mouth full of food.

"Well, that's 100% possible.."

"Hey Beel! There you are! I've been looking all over for you." A new voice intervenes, coming from a man with dark indigo-grey colored hair.

"Oh, Belphie. I was getting some food." Beel answered calmly, now swallowing the food he was gobbling up a while ago.

"Let's go then Beel, I'm feeling sleepy." Belphie said, his 3 last words was said with a yawn.

The orange-haired man nodded, taking a whole lot ton of foods, and then both of them went upstairs.

Leaving you and Mammon to stare weirdly and awkwardly at each other.

“Um-”

“The orange-haired one was Beelzebub, and the other one is Belphegor, his twin.”

“Oh.”

And then you don’t have anything to say.

~~~~~

A month has passed, and everything went well. Although, you still can’t get used to the noisy quarrels the 7 brothers have. And it was almost everyday.

2 months has passed, and well, you just found yourself a rival. You didn’t even do anything, but she just keeps picking on you.

And yeah, that pissed you off. So, when she blabbered mean things about you, you had no choice but to knock out her tooth to keep her to shut up.

So, for atleast maybe a week, she stopped going near you.

Although, Lucifer isn't happy to hear the news and lectured you for like 3 hours straight.

3 months has passed, and yeah, you and Mammon have gotten close that the both of you would even hangout in each other's bedrooms. Of course, without getting caught with Lucifer's nightly curfew.

4 months has passed, and guess what, it's Mammon's birthday the next day so you decided to get him something. Although, you don't even know what to get him. So you went to his brothers and asked what he likes, and all their answers were "grimms".

You flopped down to your bed thinking what else to give him aside from grimms, but your mind was occupied by something else.

You never thought a day would come where you would miss your annoying friends and boring family, but I guess this is the day.

It has been 4 months, you know? And you miss the nostalgic feeling where you guys would play video games, drink milkteas, play truth or dare, and many more.

Sure, the seven brothers are fun, especially Mammon, but of course you'd miss the people who were with you the longest.

Thinking about the times of you and your friends, you eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next day, you wake up to realize how dumb you were. It's Mammon's birthday and you got him NOTHING.

Oh well, better prepare some grimms there then.

You knocked on Mammon's door, thinking he is still asleep, and guess what, you're right.

He's currently asleep in his bed, and he looks tired as hell.

"Guess Lucifer made you do a lot of things again huh." You thought, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed as to not wake him up.

But as soon as you sat down, Mammon groaned and opened his eyes. Oh well, guess that plan of slowly sitting down failed.

"Hey.. happy birthday!" You said, raising both your arms up in the air, smiling widely.

He just chuckled and sat up while rubbing his eyes, letting out a low raspy "thank you".

You can't help but smile at his sleepy form, as this kind of quiet side of him is something you don't see everyday.

"So, what do you want for your birthday?" You asked, cursing yourself inside that he'd answer grimms, obviously.

"Hmm... I was planning to go to the casino today, but I guess spending time with you won't be so bad either." He smiles at you, but you’re completely shocked and flustered.

So in the end, for the whole day, you guys went to places where you’ve never been, and you gotta say, it felt more like a date than a birthday.

~~~~~

“Today was awesome!” You said while entering his room, flopping down on his bed.

“Of course it is! The great Mammon came with you, after all!” He replied, and oh well, there goes his usual reply.

You say nothing, but just chuckled. And with that, the night continued on.

~~~~~

5 months passed and hell, things got busier and busier. You and Mammon barely even spend time together. But you can only blame Lucifer the culprit here, making the both of you do a lot more errands.

You seriously want to lay down on your bed and talk nonsense with Mammon, but you can’t, just by obviously looking at the stack of books right in front of you.

“Um... can’t I get an assistance with this or something?” You asked Lucifer, looking at him with a ‘fuck you’ look.

“No. Don’t be lazy, Y/n. Now go put them back.” He answered, not even looking at your miserable way.

You sighed and start putting those books back to the bookshelves.

Seriously, how dare he call you ‘lazy’ when looking at him, he’s seriously just relaxing and reading a book while drinking a fucking juice.

You really hate Lucifer. Especially that big ass pride of his. But you can’t really do anything about it, can you?

~~~~~

6 months finally passed and it’s time to celebrate.

This was actually the chillest month of all, and you had a lot of free time. So you and Mammon get to go back with hanging out almost everyday.

But within those months, you’ve come to realize how the other 6 brothers poorly treated Mammon. It’s as if he was not their brother at all.

Saturday night, and you come home to hear yet another quarrel from the brothers.

“Ugh, just die Mammon!”

“The next time you do this, I will hang you upside down for a day.”

“Seriously!? You’re annoying!”

“You’re very greedy.”

You heard those, and those were the last straw.

“Hey! What the hell!?” You barged and interrupted on their quarrel.

“Don’t involve yourself in this, Y/n.” Lucifer sighed, holding his forehead in his palm.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Lucifer, and Mammon’s my friend, and he’s your brother, so why are you treating him this way!?” You yelled at Lucifer, everyone shocked to see your outburst for the 1st time.

“Brother? Ha! I hope he isn’t!” Leviathan said, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“What the fuck? I know all for you are demons, but seriously, you treat your brother this way? He may not be the best of all, he may not be the smartest, but that doesn’t mean you can treat him like this. It’s as if you’re talking more to a wall than to a brother. I heard all of you were once angels, but guess what, to me, all of you are evil, and Mammon is the only one who isn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was an angel in disguise and all of you were the real demons from the start. So what if he’s greedy? He’s called avatar of greed for a reason! And yes, he is greedy! All he ever cares about is grimms, grimms, grimms, grimms, grimms, all grimms! But he’s the only one that’s been kind to me ever since I got here. And what about all of you? You’ve been using your stupid ass demon forms to scare the shit out of me, while Mammon here only used it to protect me. I’d understand it more if all of you became demons from angels. It’s Mammon who deserves better than all of you. Let's go Mammon.” You finished your rant, and pulled Mammon towards his room, leaving the brothers stunned.

Once the both of you entered Mammon’s room, you locked the door and turned to Mammon.

“Hey, are you oka-” You were cut off by the sight in front of you.

Mammon was looking down to you, tears coming out of his eyes. You can’t help but hug him, knowing for 5,000 years, he’s probably went through this a lot of times that he’s used to it, but with someone comforting and standing up for him, he’s not used to it.

Yes, Mammon’s a demon, but he too, has feelings.

“This guy is what they call a demon?” You questioned your thoughts, when all you could see was that this guy was no demon at all. It was as if he was just an angel in disguise.

For the rest of the night, you guys stayed there, enjoying each other’s comfort in each other’s arms.

#obey me!#om! shall we date #om! mammon #mammon x reader #obey me #shall we date mammon #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #mammon fluff #mammon avatar of greed #📂 — ` akira’s works!

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