#dry horror genre experience

[toothpuulp]

so i just finished universal harvester (and loved it don’t get me wrong) but i’m so utterly baffled by the pull-quote on the back from the person claiming it’s the most unsettling thing they’ve read since house of leaves. it’s not even a horror novel??

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :ANCHORED IN THE STORM: :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff and angst

 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, trauma and PTSD, descriptions of fear and distress, breakdown

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After a mission goes wrong, Logan helps you through the aftermath, offering support and comfort as you process the traumatic experience.

THE MISSION HAD GONE HORRIBLY WRONG. Logan Howlett, also known as Wolverine, burst through the door of the safehouse, his keen senses immediately picking up the scent of blood—your blood.

He found you sitting on the floor, back against the wall, staring blankly ahead. Your clothes were soaked with crimson, and your hands were trembling.

"Hey," Logan called softly, crouching down beside you. His rugged face, usually so composed, was now etched with concern. "You're alright. I've got you."

You turned your head slowly, eyes glazed over, barely registering his presence. The shock had numbed your senses, making everything seem distant and unreal.

"Come on, we need to get you cleaned up," he said gently, taking your hands in his. He helped you to your feet, supporting your weight as you stumbled. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold dread that gripped your heart.

Logan guided you to the bathroom, his movements careful and deliberate. He started with your jacket, peeling the blood-soaked fabric from your shoulders. Each motion was tender, his touch respectful and patient. When he reached the hem of your shirt, he hesitated, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. You gave a small nod, giving him permission to continue.

He lifted the shirt over your head, revealing more of the gory aftermath of the mission. Bruises were already forming on your skin, dark patches against your pale complexion. Logan's jaw tightened at the sight, but he kept his emotions in check, focusing solely on you.

"Let's get you in the shower," he murmured. He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. As the steam filled the room, he guided you under the warm spray, his hands never leaving your skin.

You stood there, letting the water wash away the blood and grime, but the memories of the mission lingered. The faces of those you couldn't save flashed before your eyes, each one a haunting reminder of your failure. You started to shake, tears mixing with the water cascading down your face.

Logan stepped in behind you, fully clothed, wrapping his arms around your waist. His presence was a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions. "It's okay," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "You're safe now."

After what felt like an eternity, the water ran clear, and Logan helped you out of the shower. He wrapped you in a soft towel, drying your hair with gentle pats. You were still trembling, but the warmth of his touch provided a small measure of comfort.

He led you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. Logan rummaged through the dresser, finding a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He helped you dress, his hands steady and reassuring.

Once you were clothed, he dressed himself and sat beside you, his arm around your shoulders.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with your very soul.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "I was so scared, Logan," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Everything went wrong so fast. I tried to help them, but... I couldn't save them."

Logan pulled you closer, his embrace strong and protective. "Sometimes things go wrong, and there's nothing we can do about it," he said softly. "But that doesn't mean you didn't do everything you could. You fought, and you're still here. That's what matters."

You buried your face in his chest, letting the tears flow freely. He held you, his presence a comforting shield against the horrors that still haunted you. As the night wore on, he lay down beside you, pulling you into his arms.

"We'll get through this," Logan murmured, his fingers stroking your hair. "Together."

You nodded, finding solace in his words and his warmth. Gradually, the tension in your body began to ease, replaced by a profound exhaustion. You clung to Logan, your anchor in the storm, and slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Throughout the night, Logan stayed by your side, his steady heartbeat a lullaby that kept the nightmares at bay. In his arms, you found the strength to face another day, knowing that no matter what happened, you wouldn't have to face it alone.

[venus-haze]

Horror is like the only genre left where anything good or original is happening because they're historically lower budget with almost guaranteed high returns even if the movie ends up being just okay at best so writers and directors and editors are allowed to experiment and actually be creative which is what audiences want. Yet big studios are still bleeding themselves dry for $100+ million productions no one's showing up to and aren't even good! Horror's the only thing standing between us and the death of cinema. And I live by that.

[adventuringblind]

Hello,,, i was thinking about how xavi needs to move ASAP and how maybe you could do a leclerc/sainz x reader where xavi finally gets unemployed and reader is the new strategidt OR reader is a mechanic and is done with suffering bc of xavi and jist takes over the radio and they win because of her

I rlly love your writing and thank you for reading 🥲🥲💞💞

Radio Silence

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: chaos?

Summary: an overlooked Ferrari strategist and Charles beloved decided to take matters into her own hand

Warnings: misogyny, sexist comments, Xavi

Notes: one of my favorites I've done I think

Masterlist

Working is any male dominated force as a female makes life difficult.

You'd had just as much, if not more, experience and had been working with Charles since he came into ferrari.

You're young and female. It is a terrible combination in this world. Charles, although the best thing you could have ever asked for, is not the best at communicating with his team. He tries his best to make sure you're heard, but his team has a habit of not listening to him.

This combination is what makes for an interesting race. Spa had been difficult all weekend with the mixed conditions. You knew it was going to be dangerous and had tried to give your input on strategies but were dismissed.

You and Charles, however, had been working on this since the last race with these conditions.

Was Xavi upset he wasn't doing exactly as told? Yes. You could hear them on the radio. Charles was managing to stay calm and do what you two had talked about. You don't know how he does it. Sometimes, you want to throw his race engineer through the pit wall.

He manages to qualify second, which turned into a first after Max's penalty.

Now, you're determined to turn it into a podium. Where on the podium he falls doesn't matter to you. You just want to see your boyfriend end the first half of the season on a high.

He was doing incredible so far. Despite not having the best data for a dry track.

You watch the data on the pit wall screens and pray Charles doesn't give in the Xavi. The race engineer had been arguing with him all weekend.

Then, a stupidly bad call is made. You can see Charles is perfectly fine on his tires and can go at least ten more laps. But they are actively lying to him to get him to pit early.

You want to do something stupid. The ability to do so just at your fingertips.

You can hear your team principle asking what's going on and you take that as your queue.

You put hit the button that patched you into Charles radio. "Charles, your tires are fine. Do not pit early."

"Y/N? I'm confused."

"You have about ten laps on your current tires if your pace is steady. Your don't need to pit early."

He listens to you, and you see him drive right past the opening of the pit lane. You can hear your heart beating rapidly as he does so.

Charles places third. You're so proud of him for being assertive all weekend long. He could've placed last, and you wouldn't have cared.

It's the post race debrief that has everyone going insane.

"Y/N will be taking over as lead strategist after the summer break, and Charles will have a new race engineer for the rest of the season."

The horror on Xavi's face was something you would laugh at later. especially since he was just ranting about how you didn't deserve your spot.

You and Charles were so proud of yourselves and each other. What you accomplished you did together. That's more then you could've ever asked for.

And maybe putting Xavi in his place was just an added bonus.

[animentality]

special announcement time

alright everyone.

at long last, i have finished polishing my latest writing project, a horror romcom fantasy novel (94k words), and am looking for beta readers to tell me what they think of it.

but not only that...

i am also interested in beta swapping.

sooooooooo.

if you got an ongoing fanfic, if you've got a novel of your own...or any other kind of big writing project, or web comic even, that you want eyes on...dm me or send me an ask (or reply to this post, I'll reach out).

i have turned on dms and replies for this purpose.

it can be pretty much any length and any genre, about anything. i don't mind any experience level either, whether you've never written anything at all, or have been doing it for years. i can help aspiring authors (trad or indie), fanfic authors who want to participate in fan events/post to AO3, people who don't want to share their work with the public...

i'll read sci fi, fantasy, horror, historical, contemporary, romance. porn. any genre, with any audience (YA, MG, adult, whatever).

but also, you know. we don't have to swap. if you just wanna read it, that's perfectly alright too. summary here, so you can see if you'd be interested.

Warnings: Graphic violence, child death (death of an infant), self-harm (because their powers are blood-based, and they need to self harm in order to use them), implied sexual assault/incest (not graphic), animal death (a lot of it), and oh yeah, sex scenes. this is an adult romantasy. adult.

anyway.

here:

In a world ravaged by war between the old gods and the new, demigods sow chaos and discord wherever they go, destined to be either legendary heroes or fearsome villains. But Marrow is not like other demigods. They are the child of the god of blood and slaughter, born with only one purpose: to kill in their savage father’s name, and bleed the entire world dry. The one problem? 

The only living creature they want to kill is their father.

But Marrow has been imprisoned within their temple for their entire life, unable to realize that dream…until now. A deal with a devil allows them to escape, making their way into a hostile world they know little about- and matters are not helped by the fact that their father can use their eyes to see what they're seeing at any time. To keep him from seeing their location, Marrow must remained blindfolded. But Marrow, an eternal optimist, won’t let their lack of vision stop them from fulfilling their lifelong dream. 

The demigod hunter might, however. Arlo Ren is a member of the Razor Watch, a religious order dedicated to the goddess of the hunt. He is clever, but impulsive, eager to prove himself to his goddess by capturing powerful prey. Soon after meeting Marrow by chance, and discovering what they are, he sees his opportunity and refuses to let it go. Literally. The demigod hunter handcuffs the demigod to his side, and swears to sacrifice them in his god’s name. Luckily for him, Marrow is an inexperienced, blind pacifist, who needs him to guide them through a dangerous, unknown world. They fully intend to escape him eventually. But perhaps a demigod and a demigod hunter have more in common than they might think. Perhaps they might even need each other...but they will, at the very least, need to learn how to live, work, and fight together as they are relentlessly chased by Marrow’s powerful demigod siblings, all hoping to kill their youngest sibling and please the god they abandoned. 

So yeaaaah. DM or replied or whatever if interested. We can chat some more in discord or on Tumblr (but I'm faster on discord).

[yunyunrin]

Chapter Two : Holy Fool

genre : horror, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, alternate universe, slow burn

pairing : angel!reader (gn) x kingofhell!???, other side pairings

chapter warnings : arguing, crying, flashback, panic attacks, religious themes, yandere themes, anxiety

wc : a bit over 10k

A/N : here we go!!! everything from here on out is going to be a bit more fast paced so i’m excited for that 😣 and i finally got the motivation to edit! if i left out any warnings on accident let me know!

MDNI

holy fool masterlist | chapter one | next

“Glory be to God, Amen,” you recite to yourself as you finish your prayer, quickly looking around to find a familiar face.

“Angel Blossom!” Poppy shouted a little ways away from you as she walked towards you after the prayer, granted her choice of volume garnered some stares from the other Angels. Poppy didn’t seem to mind though. As long as the prayer was over, it was okay to be happy in the prayer hall.

“Hi my darling Poppy, how are you today?” you asked. Poppy seems to be in a cheery mood tonight, more so than usual.

“I should be asking you that, Blossom,” Poppy replied. You know what she is talking about, tonight is when you head back down to Earth for your first assignment. You haven’t been back down to Earth since that night all those years ago. Not even thinking about the content of that night since a day or so after you returned to Heaven after the fact. Listening to Poppy was most important to you then, and it is the same now. Although you are having much more trouble not thinking about it since Angel Zen has told you about your impending assignment a few weeks back.

“I’m doing okay, nervous,” you respond. You and Poppy have now made it back to your shared room.

“It’s okay to be nervous, it is your first assignment. You will do well. Come on, let's go wash off before we head out,” Poppy ushers you quickly out the room once you gather your clothes towards the communal showering area. You both walk in and there is no other Angel there. Everyone has washed off already, but you and Poppy are washing off again.

Poppy and Angel Zen are still the only ones who know of your past as a human. In the years since becoming an Angel, you’re allowed to be around the others now, but you choose not to be close with them. Of course, you’re cordial, but you couldn’t risk them finding out anything, so you stick to Poppy. You’re truly grateful for Poppy, you don’t know what you did to deserve her. One day, you told her that when you were alive, you would take hot showers when you were stressed or nervous and ever since then when you are nervous or stressed, she takes you straight to the showers to relax.

Initially you never thought you’d be able to get used to the new life you had, thinking that your experience on Earth would make you too bashful for some of the things that Angels are accustomed to. Quickly it became something you got used to. For example, the communal showers do not have any dividers; you’re seeing everyone the way that they were made, but it wasn’t weird. You and Poppy have had many conversations over the years as you washed yourselves like you are now, but it is no different from the talks you have when you are in the comfort of your shared room.

“Your assignment, the family has had two more kids since you have last seen them. A three-year-old and a newborn,” Poppy informs you as she walks to the mirror to get a better look at drying her hair with her towel.

This hurts your heart a bit, you know not everyone has a bad life but from what you have learned in the past couple of months from Poppy, this situation was not too good. You wish you could give the mother the strength to leave, but your focus is on the children and your only job is to protect them to the best of your ability.

“Thank you for telling me, Poppy. Where are you going for your assignment tonight?” You question because Poppy herself is also getting a new assignment tonight.

“I’m going to Cana-da-da-da,” Poppy laughs at you, “apparently they are a sweet family. The grandparents live with the family and one of them will be getting diagnosed with cancer soon. I will be there long enough to help with the blow it will bring to the grandchildren,” she drops her shoulders once the information leaves her mouth. Poppy is a very emotional Angel that always takes things to heart. That is what makes her different from many of the Angels you have encountered. The others aren’t often phased by what they see, just doing their assignments and coming back to pray. A routine they have perfected over time, but Poppy is unique. You’ve had to comfort Poppy a lot because she feels everything from everyone around her.

Once you and Poppy are done washing off, you return to back to your bedroom. “Listen to me Blossom, everything will be okay with the kids. They are strong, I wouldn’t lie to you,” Poppy stated before you both were about to take your leave. “You will be okay, I promise. You can always talk to me through your bond and I will come in a second, now go to those kids,” Poppy pats your back, and you nod at her before transporting to the home of your assignment.

—

It’s been four years since the air of the Earth has hit your skin. The family from four years ago lives in a new place now, as you transport yourself in the entryway you take in the surroundings of their space. It’s small, a kitchen/dining area, a small living room, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Poppy’s words are replaying in your mind as you walk to the children’s room. “You’ll be okay Blossom,” you mumble to yourself. The room is small, a bunk bed and a crib. The kid you last saw four years ago taking the top bunk while the toddler is on the bottom bunk, and obviously the baby is in the crib. You move to get in the bed with the toddler, cradling him in your hold. Poppy told you that is what she did, as he is prone to nightmares and this is all that helps.

The children are asleep, and the house is quiet, which leaves you with one thing to do. Think. Four years ago. You physically cringe at the memory and your stupidity. You are certain that if Poppy’s hair wasn’t permanently a bright golden color that it would have grayed instantly that night.

You’ve learned a lot since then, you could understand why Poppy was worried. Even if you had brushed against the man, you would have been a fallen Angel that instant. That goes for touching any non-human unless they are an Angel or a child under the age of twelve. Also witches, even the human ones. You didn’t really understand the witches, though, you knew some who practiced when you were alive, and they were some of the kindest people you knew. But that’s the rules, and you can’t do anything about that.

You still didn’t know anything about the Kings of Hell. You couldn’t genuinely ask because to every other Angel in Heaven, you already knew. Angel Zen was not someone you wanted to talk to more than you had to, and you knew how Poppy felt talking about them. You just hated feeling ignorant, your ignorance is what put you and Poppy in danger in the first place.

Although you feared how the family would fare during your shift, you were more afraid of seeing him. You know it is not a sin to find people attractive, but is it when they are a King of Hell and you’re a Guardian Angel? His sharp jawline and the singsong voice he used when he spoke to you, “shut up Blossom,” scolding yourself for thinking of him. He has definitely forgotten you by now and if he did remember you, it is because you were a Heavenly being who didn’t know he was a King of Hell.

Morning comes quickly, and your assignment shift is almost done. The kids slept soundly, now there is one thing left to do before you go back. Pray over the children. You fall to your knees in front of the window of the room and put your hands together, “God, please protect this family, —” Cinnamon. Cinnamon fills your nostrils and your hands start to tremble. “No, not now, please not now,” you say to yourself before finishing your prayer.

The smell of cinnamon and the feeling of his eyes on you has not left since the beginning of your prayer. This can’t be happening, you think to yourself as you walk to the kitchen, hoping that their mother is cooking breakfast with cinnamon or perhaps lit a cinnamon scented candle? You enter the kid’s room defeated as neither was happening. The feeling of him is strong, but you can’t see him. But you aren’t looking, your eyes have been tightly shut since you entered the room, finding solace again with the toddler. Instead, hoping that this time your nightmare will go away, but it does not.

“I know you are there but please not today. Please — leave me alone,” you begged into the thick tension of the room. You weren’t expecting it to anything, especially for the presence to dissipate as soon as you were finished speaking. He let you off the hook today, and for that, you are grateful.

—

As you enter back into Heaven you find yourself going straight to the showers in hopes that Poppy has already been back and showered, but as you walk in you see that that was, in fact, not the case. Poppy looks like she has not started showering yet, but the only available spot was right next to her. It isn’t like you would rather not see her, you did want to see her. But you can’t tell her that you felt him. She still hasn’t mentioned that night even when she saw your nervousness before your assignment. Could she have truly forgotten?

You make your way beside Poppy and turn the showers on, warm water instantly hitting your skin. You aren’t sure how the Earth changes your scent, but you know that it does. Even if it is a little bit. “Blossom, how was your first night on assignment?” Poppy questions, the suds from her shampooed hair falling down the side of her face.

“It went well, they had a pretty good night, thankfully,” you answer politely, not meeting her gaze.

“I’m glad. You smell not like how I did when I came back from their assignment?” Poppy inquires. You can feel her eyes on you, and you begin to feel small under her gaze.

“What do you mean?” you ask, hoping that your ignorance will help you with the incoming questions that you know you will receive from her.

“You smell like cinnamon. How come?” her voice is noticeably down a few octaves. Shit, she is on to you. You immediately start thinking of an excuse, anything to save your ass.

“Right before I left for assignment, their father used the bathroom, I’m assuming his stomach had gotten upset from something he consumed the night before. Before too long, the whole apartment was smelling… Not good. His wife woke up a short time after and lit a candle, probably cinnamon,” you chuckle to yourself and move to rinse your hair, “I’m thankful she did, if she didn’t, I would likely smell a lot worse…” you told Poppy, hoping that your lie was enough to fool her.

Poppy nods her head and the rest of the time you and her spend showering was met with silence. After your shower ends, you go to your room to make sure you have everything you need for your prayer. Some Angels take holy books to pray, others take holy memorabilia, others take nothing. It just depends on the mood and the Angel. Tonight you opt to take a holy book while Poppy just makes sure she looks presentable enough to walk into the prayer hall. ‘You know you can tell me anything, Blossom’ Poppy shares with you through your bond. You look at her and smile, showing that you understand and that you will. Your second lie in Heaven tonight, wow you really are the best Angel, sighing to yourself at the hidden thought.

You and Poppy walk shoulder to shoulder into the prayer hall before going to your respective spots. You and Poppy cannot pray together in the prayer hall due to the difference in your ranks. You are the lowest ranked Angel, while Poppy is a few ranks higher than you are. The prayer hall is beginning to fill with Angels which means the official prayer will start soon, but that does not stop other Angels for beginning to pray earlier. You have been in his prayer hall continuously for the past few years, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. The hall is long in length and width, plated with pure gold. The floors are marble and there are cushions of red velvet that act as a barrier for when you fall to your knees during prayer. Contrary to your belief beforehand, there are no statues of Angels because wouldn’t that be weird? Apparently.

The orchestra music pauses, causing you to come back to reality from your thoughts. A high ranked Angel, like Angel Zen for example would start off the prayer and then the remainder of the time Angels would pray about what you feel you needed your attention, or God’s attention. You had three things you wanted to pray on. The first was your ability to lie in Heaven, your faith itself, and —. You pause your last thought. Your prayers go directly to God, and you aren’t sure you want God to know about this yet. But if God is all knowing, then you shouldn’t have to pray about it anyway, right?

After your years of being an Angel you’d expect to be a fierce believer of God, but you are not. You took steps further than you had when you first became an Angel but probably not as much as Poppy would hope. You believe in God, but you don’t feel the need to worship him, you know he exists but is he really worthy of your worship? What makes him more worthy of it than Lord Hades or Lady Athena? This is how you were different from the thousands of other Angels in the prayer hall, you believed in every God’s existence. Your belief would render you an Omnist Pagan, which is why you could never speak of it. That’s why your best friend Poppy could never know that the Angel she worked to help become a pious God-fearing Angel, was a Pagan. During times and thoughts like this you wish you had Dina, where you could speak freely.

—

Although you believe this way, you have a tremendous amount of guilt. You were given a second chance by people who worship God and you could not even worship him in which others feel he deserves. Lying in a space that it was forbidden to lie, and no one was the wiser. You sat here during prayer and prayed the best way you knew how to change the way you thought, to think like Poppy. That’s what you prayed for. But year after year, nothing changes and occasionally, you don’t feel bad. You’re praying about it, so now it’s out of your hands. You know it truly is not, but that thought helps to keep the guilt from consuming you entirely.

Before you know it, the prayer is over and Poppy is making her way to you. The walk back to you and Poppy’s shared room is quiet but comfortable. You walk in first, and Poppy follows and closes the door once she enters. You sit at your respective beds, allowing your bodies to truly rest after the long night of your assignments and the prayer that followed it.

“What do you intend to do today?” Poppy asks cheerily.

“I think that I will sleep for a couple of hours, then clean for a bit, and I think that I will also read some scriptures. How about you?” you ask while glancing at the Angel.

“I think I will go down to Earth for a bit and bring the holy feel to a couple of churches. You know you don’t have to sleep, right? Angels don’t need to sleep to function,” Poppy clarifies, like you didn’t already know. Ever since becoming an Angel and after those first couple of nights, you truly haven’t been tired, but you still sleep. It helps pass the time and if you’re being honest, you hope that one day you will dream. It hasn’t happened, but every so often you wish that you would be allowed to live the way you wanted through your dreams, but you have not been granted that wish.

“Yes Poppy, I know. It is just something I miss from Earth, it’s grounding. Plus, I only do it for a couple of hours. It isn’t like I do it and then wake up to pray and go to assignment. I guess it is a guilty pleasure, you could say,” you retort back

Poppy doesn’t seem too amused with your response, but you were being honest. Sleeping for a couple of hours wasn’t hurting anyone. “Praying is grounding, Blossom. And that guilty pleasure is what we’d call a sin on Earth,” Poppy jitters, her fists clenched.

“Napping isn’t a sin for people on Earth, Poppy,” you clap back while massaging your temples, your voice beginning to sound volatile.

“It is when you nap and aren’t tired that is what God would consider Sloth, Blossom. Don’t try to tell me what is and what is not a sin. Don’t forget who—” Poppy cuts herself off before saying her last bit, looking up at you with glossy eyes at the thought of what she was about to say to you.

“Is the real Angel,” you say, finishing the sentence that she was going to say. Poppy doesn’t normally share her thoughts with you, opting to keep them to herself. But at that moment, she was too angry to keep herself in that white bubble that she finds comfort in.

“That isn’t what I meant, I’m sorry I thought that. We all struggle, we are all tempted. Every Angel is, if we were not there, would be no fallen Angels. Although what I said about the sin being considered Sloth was true, I really cannot judge you for it, as what I struggle with the most is wrath. You have seen it more than I’d have liked. Please forgive me, don’t take what I say out of anger as truth. Only you know your true intentions, all we can do is try to be better. It doesn’t all happen at once,” Poppy says with an apologetic tone. You can’t lie that what she said and thought didn’t hurt your feelings, but you knew she was sorry. You know that much. If you had seen half of what she has seen, you would likely struggle with wrath too. After the argument, you feel nonverbal, so you opt to go and give her a hug to show her that you aren’t mad. You both stay like that for a while, and for once, Poppy lays with you. You aren’t sure if she falls asleep, but you wake up in her arms. You know this is her way of apologizing and if you’re being honest, you’re grateful to have been held after what you have been through during your first day of assignment, even if she doesn’t know what truly transpired.

—

Once you wake up from your nap and Poppy goes to do what she had planned to do during her free time, you decide to go back to the prayer hall to read the scriptures. To anyone else, you would be just an Angel reading the Bible. Which would be true, but you’re reading for a slightly different reason. Who are these Kings of Hell. No one has told you nothing. You think it is crucial for you to know, you have learned of one of their existences, and you don’t think you want that to happen in that way again. Poppy said they don’t normally come out, and the man that night didn’t correct her, so it must be true. But what if they decide to come out one day, and you simply don’t know. You still haven’t encountered a Demon since that night. Obviously, you know how to spot one, but if a King of Hell can look like, not a Demon? Then how are you supposed to know. You felt that same man last night, but you still don’t know his name. Aren’t you supposed to know their names, and it gives you leverage over them? You think about that, you aren’t sure how true it is, but you remember it being talked about from the second Conjuring movie. You laugh to yourself, getting information about Demons from a movie that you saw before you died. Comical.

You read for hours and find nothing. Obviously, the seven sins themselves are talked about, but not the Kings who rule over them. Why are there eight Kings but seven deadly sins? This makes no sense, and you wish someone would just tell you. “Angel,” a gruff voice calls from behind you. You look behind your shoulder to see none other than Angel Zen himself.

“Yes, Angel Zen,” you reply softly to the man who seems to be in a good mood currently.

“Reading scriptures for fun?” he questions, an eyebrow raised. You don’t even know if this Angel has the capability of being in a good mood. Alas, you keep a curt smile on your face while speaking with him.

“Not for fun, but to learn. You can never read too much when it comes to scriptures,” you answer, hoping that the conversation will end soon.

“That is correct, Angel. The orchestra will start soon, so go get ready for prayer,” he instructs before shooing you away with his hand. After the interaction, you walk to your room to get clothes before walking to the showers. As you enter the orchestra, music begins to play, and Angels begin entering the showers. As the showers fill, you begin to wash off with the soap and wash rag. You know the whole point of no scent in the soap is so you will only smell like your scent, but every so often you miss being able to wash yourself with soap that smelled like cotton candy or something magical like that. As you finish your shower and are leaving to go back to your room to get ready for the prayer, Poppy comes in. She smiles at you brightly before going to the shower that you just occupied. If you see her tonight before your assignment, it will only be briefly after the prayer.

The walk to your room was short, and you didn’t really have much to do to get ready for prayer. You decided to bring a cross with you this time instead of the Bible. Honestly, you’re a bit nervous to going out tonight, so the cross will help with your fidgeting during the prayer. If you’re being honest you want answers, but you know the likelihood of you getting them is not strong, but you just wish you could know what everyone else does.

—

And just as quick as the prayer started, it ended just as swiftly. You’re used to looking over your shoulder to see Poppy, but she hasn’t quite made it to you yet. She’s walking your way and as you go up to meet her, she walks right past. She didn’t even look your way. You look around for the only other Angel that you know, Angel Zen. Once you find him, you make brief eye contact before he moves his gaze back to the Angel he was just speaking to.

You sprint back to your room to find Poppy. Once you enter, you see her back, as she is clawing through the drawers with an urgency that you haven’t seen in years. “Poppy,” you cried out, tears threatening to fall down your eyes. She turns around and glances at you but does not make eye contact. Without a word, she is gone. Likely having transported herself to her assignment.

You fall to the floor, your lower limbs having given out on you. Your throat feels like it is closing, and your spit is falling out of your mouth as you sob. ‘Poppy, what did I do wrong, please Poppy’ you ask through your bond, hyperventilating in the position you find yourself in. You try to get up to go to your bed, Poppy having decided not to respond to you. As you’re walking to where your bed sits, your vision gets no better. Your sight is going in and out, and your head is getting lightheaded. You feel your body give out, you come back to reality as soon as your head hits the floor, only having passed out for a few seconds. You opt to lay there because you know you are not strong enough to hold your body up right now. You think of Dina, and how she would help you during your panic attacks.

“Hey Dina, we have the same schedule this week,” you cheered, happy that you and your best friend will see each other a lot the following week. Your best friend jumps up and down with her hands cupping her face, sharing the same excitement. Working at the bakery shop was fun, especially when it was the graveyard shift. All you and Dina did was bake throughout the night, and doing light decorating. The morning shift would come in and do more thorough decorating.

“The owner said we have to bake this huge cake tonight, to not even worry about the small stuff, that he would come in and bake those later in the shift,” Dina says with wide eyes.

“Jeez, how big is the cake?” you question Dina, never has your owner came in to make baked goods. Your manager, sure. The owner? Never.

“We’ll have to see once we get there,” Dina says, and you both walk out the door with pep in your steps because you have got to see what this cake is all about.

“Dina, this is not what I was expecting,” you say with your mouth agape in shock. This cake has so much to it. It’s a gigantic house, three stories. Chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, and strawberry were the flavors that you had to use. But not one part of the cake had to be a certain flavor, but one room in the house had to be a swirl of all the flavors? What an odd request. “I feel bad for who has to frost the cake, they want eight different colors for their frosting. They also want it swirled for that one room,” you tell Dina, still in shock.

“Who even ordered this anyway?,” Dina asks while looking at the ticket, “Kang Yeosang”, Dina says while popping her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Well Kang Yeosang better tip us a million fucking dollars Dina,” you laugh to yourself.

“He better, he definitely has a lot of money. Now let's get to baking, the owner of the whole bakery didn’t say not to worry about anything else tonight for a reason.

You and Dina spend the next twelve hours baking the odd request, whenever it got hard you found yourself cursing the man who ordered it because truly, why did he need such an absurd cake? Alas, you have finished baking everything, now all that is left is for the other bakers to frost it and put it together. You really hope this Yeosang dude likes this cake. And will actually pay for it. It would be unfortunate if he didn’t.

As you and Dina move to leave the kitchen, you bump into the table and one of the pieces falls on the floor. You gasp and look at Dina with fear in your eyes, which has replaced the sleepiness you were feeling prior. Your legs begin to give out, and you begin to hyperventilate, and your heart is beating so fast that you fear it may fall out of your chest.

“Hey lovie, you’re okay, listen to my voice,” Dina says in a hope to calm you down.

“I fu-fuc-fucked it all up Dina. I’m going to g-get fired, and I can’t get fi-fired,” you choke out, stuttering on your words as spit begins to still in your throat. Dina rubs your back and engulfs you in a hug, making sure that the fluorescent lights of the room are out of your line of vision.

“Hey, I know it is frustrating, but mistakes happen. And what fell on the ground was sphere shaped, no one will be mad at that for falling. There is a reason why no one orders sphere shaped cakes,” Dina coos into your ear softly, still rubbing your back, “If anything, we should blame the man who ordered the cake. What was his name? Oh right, Kang Yeosang. It’s all his fault. Big ass cake for a small ass bakery shop,” Dina mocks, causing you to laugh into her chest.

“I’m sorry Dina,” you mumble, having calmed down.

Dina playfully turns her head, “Nothing to be sorry for lovie, now I’ll go tell the owner, and you can put in four more sheets of vanilla batter in the oven. The other bakers don’t even get here until another hour, it’ll be okay,” Dina says soft but clearly before leaving the room.

The owner wasn’t mad, but made a mental note to put the spheres into a container so they wouldn’t fall again. The cakes are ready before you and Dina leave for the day, so you take them out of the oven so they can cool before leaving with Dina after clocking out. You and Dina walk together with your arms interlocked on your way home, ready for the sleep that you are about to have.

“I miss Dina,” you sigh to yourself. The memory is a fond one and it helped you calm down after your panic attack. You haven’t had one in a while, but when you did, Poppy was the one who helped you through it. Now, she caused it. But you don’t dwell on the thought for too long, you know you’re already late to your assignment. You just wish you knew what you did wrong.

—

The kids appear to be sleeping soundly in their beds. “It should be a good night,” you think to yourself before situating yourself next to the toddler. You opt to sit on the floor and just play with his hair instead of laying with him, you hope this will keep his nightmares at bay just as well.

You wonder if he will come again tonight. You sigh and roll your eyes to yourself, still not knowing what name to put with that man you saw four years ago. “Why can’t I just know his name?,” you mumble to yourself quietly. And like he knew your thoughts and could hear that whisper the scent of cinnamon began to fill your nostrils. You close your eyes and try to ignore it. It is hard, the scent has gotten strong in a short amount of time. You wonder if the kids can smell it? Surely, they have to. After a minute or so, you’re hoping that he — or at least the scent, will go away. The noise of poking at the window startles you, causing you to look that way. The same man from all those years ago is situated on the other side, you meet his gaze, and he smiles cheekily at you.

“Come see me Cherry, it’s been a while,” he urged. You think about it, you have been wanting to know more about him, but you aren’t supposed to speak to him. You could call Poppy and tell her a King of Hell has found you again, but she definitely does not want to talk you right now. “Please, Cherry,” the man begs, asking again. You get up and walk to the window, being mere inches away from the man, the only thing separating you was glass that you knew he could break if he really wanted to. You look at him, but he doesn’t make eye contact, he’s studying you, taking in your features after all these years.

You can see he is about to speak, about to ask you a question and fear suddenly envelops you. He pokes at the window to get your attention, nodding his head to the side to ask you what’s wrong. You break the eye contact suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Hey Cherry, let me—,” you shut the curtains in his face before he can finish his statement, “Come on,” the man shouts in shock. The man’s reaction causes you to laugh, and you can’t seem to control your laughter either, replaying what you think his face would’ve looked like in your mind. “Cherry, you think this funny, but I have been waiting to see you for years,” the man stumbles over his words, obviously shocked that you closed the curtains in his face. “So you can come over to see me, but you can’t speak?,” the man inquires, hoping that you will answer. He doesn’t know that you’ve already situated yourself back with the sleeping toddler, but his continues efforts to converse with you do make you chuckle. “Okay you may not answer me, but I’m not leaving,” he says one last time before going silent.

He stays true to his word, the longer the night goes the more sparse his attempts at talking to you are. He does, in fact, not leave, the smell of cinnamon fills your nostrils until you transport yourself back to Heaven. He doesn’t even leave when you pray over the children throughout the night, he was one persistent Demon.

—

Once you are back in Heaven, you go straight to your room to get ready for your shower. You don’t expect to see Poppy, and you are correct. She isn’t there and neither are her things. Not even your bed. You contemplate being sad for a second, but it isn’t worth it. You shrug at the sight before going to the showers to wash away the smell of cinnamon that you know lingers on your skin.

Once you enter the showers, there are only two open. One next to Poppy and another next to another Angel who you do not know the name of. You had always showered next to Poppy because you aren’t allowed to be friends with any other Angels, but if she can be petty, then so can you. You walk right past Poppy, and you can feel her eyes on you, but you don’t pay her any mind. ‘What are you doing, Blossom,’ the nerve she has, speaking through to you through your bond. You don’t reply or give any indication that you even heard the thought, continuing to wash your hair and your body quickly. Once you are finished, you walk back to your room. You’ve decided to bring your Bible and your cross with you to prayer today. Your cross to squeeze in your hand and the Bible to remind you that you are, in fact, in a prayer hall.

You walk to the prayer hall, taking your normal spot. You actually try to pray with everyone else today because if you don’t, you think you may blow up. ‘Blossom,’ you hear through your bond with Poppy. It takes everything in you to not whip your head around and look in your direction, but you don’t. You keep your composure in the prayer hall, you hope that prayer is done soon because you feel like you need to scream into the void of the Earth. ‘Angel Blossom to you, only speak to me if it is important,’ you reply through your bond.

Once the prayer ends you book it straight to your room, you definitely need to scream into the pillow. Once you enter your room and shut your door, it is being reopened just moments later. Poppy is standing in the doorway, where she stays for a few seconds before fully coming in and closing the door behind her. “We have to talk,” Poppy exclaims, taking a few steps towards you.

“No fucking shit, Poppy. Of course, we have to talk,” you bite back, venom lacing your voice.

“You don’t curse in Heaven, Angel,” Poppy replies, her forehead creasing with anger.

“And you’re in Heaven too and that hasn’t stopped you from acting like an asshole, so that’s that, Poppy. Nice talk,”

“Don’t be like that,” Poppy replies, her face having became softer in the past few seconds.

“Don’t be like what? Be forced to be someone’s friend that someone isn’t allowed to have more friends besides you. Hmmm.. What else? Oh! Out of nowhere, stop talking to them and move out of your shared room for the past few years in less than twenty-four hours after ignoring them! Yes, let’s not be like that, Poppy,” you hiss, not caring for who could hear you at that moment.

“You got too comfortable, and my rank increased. I had to move,” Poppy says, glancing at the floor.

“Too comfortable? I live uncomfortably in here,” you whisper this, just loud enough for Poppy to hear.

“I’m sorry. We still have our bond, so call if you need. I couldn’t answer today due to being in a meeting, but don’t call for me unless it is urgent. And for God’s sake, tell that Demon to leave you alone. Don’t fall because of him,” Poppy says with urgency in her voice.

“You weren’t in a meeting. I saw you leave. Don’t lie to me, and what Demon are you talking about” you question Poppy.

“Don’t play stupid, everyone can smell his scent on you. He’s the King of Hell for crying out loud, his scent lingers even if you don’t touch him. And I needed to go to an important meeting, excuse me for having misspoke,” Poppy retorts.

“Whatever Poppy. Maybe if you actually talked to me before assuming stuff you would know I haven’t talked to nor felt that Demon. The reason I smelled like cinnamon today was because the kids mother made a homemade cinnamon inspired dish and their father got mad, and he threw them at the kids because the two youngest started to cry,” you respond, the lie easily falling from your lips. You glance at Poppy, and she is believing it. “And I stepped in front of them so they would have time to move out of the way so they wouldn’t get burned by the hot food. Of course, it still went through me, but it distorted time just enough to give them enough time to get out of the way. So excuse me for doing my job as a Guardian Angel, Poppy. You can tell anyone that story who doubts me. They know just as well as you do that Earthly scents linger. So stop projecting your worries onto me, I can handle myself,” you say to Poppy in a mocking tone, laughing to yourself as you speak.

“You can handle yourself so well, very funny coming from the one who killed themselves,” Poppy hissed.

“Get out,” you shout at the Angel before throwing the wooden cross in your hand at her, she teleported just in time to not get hit by the cross. You aren’t even sad at her statement, but just angry. You feel betrayed, she knew how much that fact about yourself haunted you, but she used it against you in a moment of anger anyway. If you knew better you would say that wasn’t her at all.

—

During your leisure time between assignments you didn’t have to stay in Heaven. You opted to do so because of the dangers that you had been warned of, but now you don’t really care. So you decide to go out to Earth during your spare time, albeit you find yourself on the peer. You lean against the new wood that was used to fix what you broke all those years ago.

“Cherry,” after hearing the nickname that you have come a bit to accustomed to when you ventured down to the Earth, you whip your head around towards the voice. The man leans against the peer with you, his body is turned towards you and not the water. You look back out the water instead of answering him, taking in the smell of the sea. “Still not talking to me pretty?,” questioning you softly.

“I would, but you’re a bit mean,” you exclaim, still not moving your gaze towards him.

“I am not!,” he says in a surprised tone, which makes you look at him. You giggle at his reaction, his mouth opened in shock at your statement. He definitely was offended.

“A King of Hell isn’t mean? I should talk to the other seven to let them know you aren’t doing your duty of being a big bad wolf?,” he rolls his eyes at you dramatically, turning to look at the water.

“Okay now you know that is not what I meant,” he retorts.

“How else was I supposed to take it then?,”

“I am not mean to you my little cherry blossom,”

“I feel flattered,” you say sarcastically

“You should,” the man says before taking a couple of steps, “what are you even doing down at Earth when you aren’t on assignment?,”

“It isn’t forbidden for me to come down to Earth during my free time you know?,”

“Yes, I know. But it is odd, coming to this space in specific,”

You know why it is odd, the peer is empty when it would normally be full of people. “How come?,”

“You really don’t know?,” he questions you. You shake your head no to him in response.

“A few years back, someone drove off the peer. The city fixed it but no one ever really comes besides paranormal investigators and teenagers who decide it’s cute to do a Ouija board,” the man explains.

“That’s so sad,” you say sorrowfully, “Does that person ever answer their calls? You know the teenagers and paranormal investigators?,”

“No,” he sighs, “they were always an enigma,”

His words pique your interest, you had never really talked about the surroundings of your death before. “How so? If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” You question.

“Well to me, they were an enigma from the start. I wanted to see the body because when someone dies they have a marking that shows if their soul went to Heaven or Hell. For Hell, it’ll have that marking with a number, the number showing which ruler you spend eternity with,” he pauses to look down at the ocean, “the person who killed themselves had the marking of Hell with an infinity sign and the sign of Heaven,”

The revelation that he makes to you makes the blood in your body run cold. You’re glad that he was not looking at you, and you were not looking at him because the look on your face would have given you away instantly.

“That is really strange, did you try looking for them?” you question, thankful that the anxiety you felt could not be shown in your voice.

“We never tried, Heaven is quick to come to find the people who are meant to go there. I just wonder what they said when they saw the symbol of Hell with an infinity sign next to us. None of us Kings could ever figure out what that meant,” he sighs, “Did you ever see them?,” he questions.

“No, if I’m being honest I don’t think any Angel has,” they definitely haven’t, no one knows your true story. “But for something like that, I don’t think it’d be made known,”

“You’re right. They have a memorial plaque at the entrance of the peer. Did you see it?,”

“No,”

The man gestures you to follow him down the peer towards the entrance. The plaque has a picture that you and Dina had taken together a couple of months before your death’s, both of your names, with a simple “Rest Easily” engraved on it as well.

“I thought there was only one person who passed away in this tragedy?,” you ask while looking at the plaque.

“There was only one, but both of them died that night. They were best friends. The dispatch call was made public, I just don’t think they could live without her,” his words sting, but they hold true. “You know, their dad got on the television crying over their death,” he states, voice having now gone monotone.

What the Hell. What in the actual Hell. “I just think that, if you’re a good dad, your child wouldn’t disown you, you know?,” He looks at you after he stops talking.

“I agree, did he say they didn’t talk?” you question.

“Yes, the whole interview was a bit bizarre. I just know Hongjoong will be the one dealing with him once he dies,” he grumbled.

You look up at him, a bit confused about what he means by the name. Who is Hongjoong?

“Hongjoong is the King of Kings when it comes to Hell. Although seven of the eight of us rule over specific sins, he rules over them all. He’s the most important one,” You nod at his explanation, deciding not to ask more questions. He will tell you if he'd like.

“Where did she go?,” your curiosity getting the better of you once you focus back on the plaque.

“Her death was something different, difficult to explain. But let’s not talk about it,”

This saddens you, he wouldn’t have a problem telling you she went to Hell, so you don’t understand why he is being so secretive now.

“May I ask you a question, Mr. King of Hell?,” He chuckles at the name you gave him, but nods at you nonetheless.

“Still don’t know my name?,” he asks, and you nod, looking away as the embarrassment creeps up on your cheeks.

“Can you take me to where she is buried?,”

“Which one?,”

You weren’t expecting him to ask that question. “Dina,”

“Yes, we’ll have to walk through since I cannot teleport you there,”

“You’re right about that, I’d have nowhere to go if I became a fallen Angel,” you joke.

“You’d come to Hell with me,” he remarked like it was obvious.

The rest of the walk is spent in silence until you come upon a cemetery. Once you get to her grave, your body almost becomes too much for your feet to handle. You hold your composure, you really wish the Demon wasn’t with you right now so you could cry.

“I don’t feel anything,” you whispered. You sit down at her grave, before your feet end up failing you.

The Demon sits down next to you, but far enough away that you wouldn’t be in danger of touching him. “You don’t usually feel anything, Cherry,” acknowledging what you whispered to yourself.

You get up quickly, the feeling of the cemetery becoming too overwhelming. “I need to go, thank you for today,” you muttered quickly before transporting yourself to back to Heaven. You didn’t even give him a chance to speak back, but you really didn’t feel like crying in front of a Demon today.

—

You arrived in Heaven right on time, the orchestra having started mere moments after transporting into your room. You didn’t realize how long you had been out, but at least you weren’t late. You do your usual routine, no Poppy in site. Not that you really cared too much, but you still looked for the familiarity. She also hasn’t graced the prayer hall with her presence either, which is odd.

If you’re being honest, you really do miss Poppy. Being bonded with her means that you miss her subconsciously, as she to you.

“Everyone listen up,” Angel Zen announces, “I want to make sure everyone is paying attention today as God has a message that, I think, would be crucial for some of you to hear,” he makes eye contact with you as he says it which causes chills to run up your spine.

“Everything you do, God knows. Every conversation you have, God hears. Everything you feel, God feels. Everything you see, God sees as well. Every single Angel in this room is privileged to be an Angel. Don’t forget it. Don’t be reckless,” Angel Zen commanded.

The rest of the prayer goes by as normal, but you can’t shake that feeling that you get when you think about the words that Angel Zen said to begin the prayer. It’s a reality check, you can’t keep doing what you are doing. After finding out the information that you did earlier, you truly think you’d be fucked. The symbol of Hell with an infinity sign? You’d surely be in the deepest pits of Hell right now if it weren’t for your Guardian Angel.

Once the prayer ends, you walk to your room to retrieve your cross and your Bible to take with you on assignment, you can’t take any more risks with that Demon. Although you’re nervous, you have a job to do.

—

Once you arrive at your assignment, you find the baby is awake. You have always had a soft spot for kids, so you are grateful that you are a Guardian Angel for them. You don’t want the baby to cry, so you do your best to help the baby girl fall asleep quickly.

The knocks on the window shock you, almost causing you to scream. Your energy is enough to wake the kids up if you are not calm, so it is really irritating when that Demon scares you. Seriously, you have to ask him what he did with his scent. You didn’t smell it when he was with you earlier. At least you knew he was coming then. You ignore it, but his knocks do not pause. Eventually, you walk up to the window.

“Go away,” you ordered, trying your best to sound serious.

“Let me in,” he requested.

“No,”

“After everything I did for you today?,” he asked with a pout.

You hate that he was right, he did a lot for you today. But you did bring a cross and a Bible… so maybe he can’t come near you anyway. You flash the Bible and the cross at him, to which he rolls his eyes. Now that was rude, you thought to yourself.

“That doesn’t bother me. I’m not a vampire,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Fine, come in,” you mutter under your breath, instantly he is in the room with you. He smirks at you after getting his way.

“What are their names?,”

“The kids? I’m not telling you,” you stated.

“And why not?,”

“Because you still haven’t told me yours,”

“Wow, you would think they would’ve told you our names, or at least mine after I scared the living daylights out of your friend,”

“You’re telling me,”

“Take a guess, you could get it right,”

“Hmm… You want to know what you look like?,”

“Yes,”

“You look like a buffoon,”

“That’s mean,”

“You asked me to guess,”

“You’re not like any Angel I’ve ever met Cherry,”

“For my sake, please don’t elaborate,”

“I won’t,”

For a while, the two of you don’t continue the conversation. You sit in the silence for a while, you hold the hand of the toddler while the Demon sits by the crib, watching you.

“Which sin do you think I rule over?,” the Demon asks.

“Well, you said that all of you don’t really come out often, but out of the seven sins it would make the most sense for gluttony and lust to come to Earth. And you’re a bit of a flirt, so I’d say you rule over lust,” you answered, not expecting to be correct. One thing you have learned over the years is that not everything is as it seems.

“Correct,” he said happily.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting to be right,”

“You’re smart Cherry,”

His compliment makes you blush, and you’re glad that he doesn’t tease you. “Their names are Eric, Sebastian, and Ariel. Like The Little Mermaid,” you say to distract from your nervousness

“It fits them perfectly, don’t you think?,” he questions, looking back at the crib.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“My name is Wooyoung,” his voice trembled as he spoke, like he was afraid that his name would steer you away. His name was beautiful, and you couldn’t hide the grin that plastered your face once he told you his name.

“You have a beautiful name,” you reassure him.

“Are you afraid to say it?,” Wooyoung quips.

“If I say it three times will you show up?,”

“No,” the man chuckles, “I can show up when you say it once, if you say it with the intent of wanting me to show up,” Wooyoung informs you.

“That is nice to know, no one really tells me anything,”

“Do they really keep Angels ignorant on Hell and its beings?,” Wooyoung questions.

“Yes, at least me,” you tell him, not caring about the cons of doing so.

“May I ask you a question Cherry?,”

“Yes,”

“Why do they keep you ignorant, if they know a King of Hell is out to get you?,”

“They probably want you to take me away,” you say before realizing the words that have fallen from your mouth. You put your hand over your mouth like it would’ve taken back what you said, but it wouldn’t. The tears fall from your eyes before you can stop them.

“Cherry, please don’t cry. Why would you think Heaven doesn’t want one of its Angels?,” he says, trying to comfort you.

“I can’t say,” you whisper, looking up at the man who is now a lot closer to you than he previously was. “I’ve already told you too much,”

“You can tell me anything and everything,”

“I can’t,”

“Why can’t you?,”

“Because, you’re a King of Hell, and I’m a Guardian Angel. That isn’t a good combination,”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,”

“What do you want with me anyway,”

“Do you remember what I told you the first time we met,”

“That you were searching for the love of your life?,”

“Yes, what does that have to do with me Wooyoung?,”

“Just listen to me, the eight other Kings and I are destined to have the same lover,”

“You are all dating each other?,”

“No, we are all destined to be with the same person,”

“Like a poly relationship?,”

“Yes,”

“So eight people dating one person?,”

“Yes, Cherry,”

“Well I am happy for you, but I’m still confused on how I am involved, do you need me to help you look for them? I figured you’d have enough people who’d be willing to do that for you anyway,” you scoff.

“Cherry, it’s you,” his words leave you baffled. There is no way you are a soulmate to a King of Hell, let alone eight.

“Get out,” you hiss.

“Let me explain,”

“Get out,”

“If you wish, but I’ll be near, you know that,”

“Get out,”

—“Cherry, please don’t cry. Why would you think Heaven doesn’t want one of its Angels?,” he says, trying to comfort you.

“I can’t say,” you whisper, looking up at the man who is now a lot closer to you than he previously was. “I’ve already told you too much,”

“You can tell me anything and everything,”

“I can’t,”

“Why can’t you?,”

“Because, you’re a King of Hell, and I’m a Guardian Angel. That isn’t a good combination,”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,”

“What do you want with me anyway,”

“Do you remember what I told you the first time we met,”

“That you were searching for the love of your life?,”

“Yes, what does that have to do with me Wooyoung?,”

“Just listen to me, the eight other Kings and I are destined to have the same lover,”

“You are all dating each other?,”

“No, we are all destined to be with the same person,”

“Like a poly relationship?,”

“Yes,”

“So eight people dating one person?,”

“Yes, Cherry,”

“Well I am happy for you, but I’m still confused on how I am involved, do you need me to help you look for them? I figured you’d have enough people who’d be willing to do that for you anyway,” you scoff.

“Cherry, it’s you,” his words leave you baffled. There is no way you are a soulmate to a King of Hell, let alone eight.

“Get out,” you hiss.

“Let me explain,”

“Get out,”

“If you wish, but I’ll be near, you know that,”

“Get out,”

—

It’s been an hour or so since you kicked the man out, and you should feel bad. You just couldn’t grasp how he came to that realization. He didn’t know you and you didn’t know him. You haven’t even known his name for a full day yet, and he’s telling you that you’re destined to be the soulmate of eight Demons? As a Guardian Angel? He is out of his mind.

You begin to cry out of frustration, you knew his interest in you was weird, but you didn’t expect this. You are glad he found you when you were an Angel and not a human because had he found you earlier, he likely wouldn’t have hesitated to take you back to Hell.

He surely didn’t think it through, he could end up hating you. Or the other Kings. Then what? Do they kill you? Torture you for eternity? For someone as old as him he should know better. He should have known you would never go with him.

As soon as the sun comes up, you know it’s time for you to go back. You hope he will leave you alone, and you hope to put this behind you.

—

As soon as you reach Heaven, you go to find Angel Zen. As much as you hated asking for help, you knew you needed his. You go to the prayer hall, not even bothering to shower yet. You see him talking to another Angel towards the front of the prayer hall.

“Angel Zen, I need your help,” you shout, causing the other Angel to run off somewhere.

“Why are you in here unbathed?,”

“I apologize, but I need your help,”

“What do you need?,”

“I need a new assignment, I need something else to do, please believe me,”

“Why is that?,”

“Please, I have already lost everything,”

“Once you start playing with fire, you need to learn how to hose yourself off,”

You fall to your knees as sobs begin to fall down your mouth, you didn’t know what else to do. You don’t know how to save yourself, you’re alone in this battle.

“I will see what I can do, it is challenging to find an Angel to take your spot. Every Angel has its purpose. Angels fall every day, so it makes it harder. But you are strong, resisting lust’s charm. I will try since you are such a strong little Angel. But next time, don’t mess with something that you know you can’t handle,”

Relief fills your being as you hear that Angel Zen will help you. Although he was still his same unkind self, he was willing to help you. A human quality of stubbornness helped you in a time of need, which you are grateful.

“Now go shower. Never come in the prayer hall with the smell of Earth on you ever again,” Angel Zen commands as he points to the exit of the prayer hall. You are out instantly, going straight to get your clothes and going to the showers. You wash off the contents of the day before going back to the prayer hall with your Bible in hand.

Once you enter the prayer hall, you sit down in your assigned spot. You begin to read the Bible to pass the time before the actual prayer starts. You have to become more serious with this — more believing. Or Angel Zen’s help would have been in vain. If anything, you know when to be grateful. Even though you are sure that your relationship with Poppy is irreparable, her faith in God is admirable as an Angel. You aspire to believe in the way she does, maybe if you did you wouldn’t have gotten in this mess at all.

Once the prayer ends, you feel empty. Poppy is still nowhere to be seen and instead of her walking up to you, it is Angel Zen.

“I have been able to find a replacement but not for tonight. Can you handle one more night on your assignment?,” Angel Zen questions.

“Yes, sir, I can handle one more night on assignment,” you answer honestly.

“Okay. Don’t let the Demon become any of the wiser. Come to me after you finish the assignment,”

“Yes sir,”

After your conversation with Angel Zen, you go straight to your room to recuperate. Perhaps now, you can become more focused on what is more important. Maybe you can see Poppy. But at least you know that after tonight, you will no longer have to see that Demon again.

tags:

@multifictionx @pre1ttyies @hecateslittlewitchling @adorawritesalot @unlikelysublimekryptonite @loumin908 @kirbrary @sunasmoke22 @ylak @yoonshiiu

[holybibly]

Divine Rosa  ❢ot8xreader❣ 

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader

❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut

❣ Word Count: 8.5k

❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love.

❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior, panic attack. Sexual themes: hematolagnia, body worship, masturbation, bite kink, olfactophilia, voyeurism.

❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

❣Chapter 2: Wolf in sheep's clothing❣

Love is a word that deserves closer consideration, halfway between the dry hypocrisy of the dictionary and its deep sacral meaning.

What a strange feeling…

Love, both virtuous and vicious, motivates us to accomplish great feats yet also triggers the commission of heinous crimes. This mysterious and inexplicable feeling interweaves its complex structure within us, becoming the most unstable, contentious, and hazardous of all human emotions.

Love is the fundamental source of all our emotions and experiences in the world, both beautiful and disgusting.

Love has a multitude of motives, including the desire for control, submission, care, seduction, lust, protection, worship, creation and, of course, destruction.

The feeling is manifold; We can call this complex emotion by different names, including passion, hatred, obsession, alienation, objectification, mania, unattainable dreams, happiness, idolatry, spiritual unity, and possibly the most poetic of all—the second half of the soul.

Humans crave love from birth until death. This desire is inherent and everlasting. As we take our first breath, we unconsciously absorb the toxic essence of love, which settles in our lungs like delicate, silky flowers.

This need is woven into the very structure of our DNA, an animal instinct that inadvertently condemns us to eternal suffering.

Love exists as a palpable entity, often obscured by human perceptions of carefree happiness and joy. It can be likened to a lurking deep-sea creature, concealing its true visage, branching and moving under the thin surface of our skin.

She is as cunning as a murderer's grin, and she is well aware of the inevitable tragic end of every story she is about to tell. Though we may be in the belief that we have had a joyful life, in reality all our actions have been under the impulse of love. For the sake of this deceptive feeling, which unites us for a moment in the ecstatic joy and privileges of angelic ugliness.

In the end, our physical bodies will serve to feed the earthworms, to house the larvae and to nourish the roots.

Never again will they gaze into each other's eyes, never again will the turquoise flame passion between them ignite, and never again will their lips meet in a voluptuousness kiss. 

Love has the power to drive us insane, to blind us, and even to lead to our demise.

And yet, in life, it is possible to miss everything but love.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

 3rd POV 

I want to fill my mouth with your name. I want to eat you whole. Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems, and a Song of Despair

“You look pathetic, San. Don't you think so? I wonder what Seonghwa would say to that?” Yeosang lazily runs his pale spidery fingers over Yoru's silky black fur, looking with contempt at the naked brunette stretched on a pile of knocked-down sheets and pillows.

The rings on his hands burn with blood, like the eyes of the Devil.

San looked blissfully relaxed and languid, like a caressing predator. His golden skin seemed to glow from within with an otherworldly glow as the translucent sunlight greedily licked his body with its soft touch.

Still, there was something vaguely animalistic, almost primitively predatory, about him, which in no way connected him with the arrogant aloofness that was inherent in the entire vampire race.

There was hot blood running through his veins, making him even more dangerous.

He was unbridled.

“I don't care what Seonghwa says, if he says a word at all in the next few centuries. Personally, I would prefer that his magnificent body continue to rest in the coffin for a very long time.” A smug smile played on his sensual lips. “And unlike you, my dear brother, I don't hide my true desires.” A slow, almost lazy glance from San's silvery eyes swept over the slender body of Yeosang sitting in the chair, lingering for a moment on the pale pink patch of soft skin on his temple.

He imagines, not without pleasure, how, with particular cruelty, he tears it from the porcelain face of his beloved brother with his long claws, leaving behind a wet, gaping wound.

San hated it. His birthmark is indisputable proof of his connection with his beautiful Rose.

The sign that binds their souls tightly into a single whole.

He should have found her first that night.

“Look at you, Sangie. You act like a coward, hiding in dark corners and wandering in her dreams. Perhaps I could understand you if your wayward antics gave her pleasure. If our Rose woke up with your name on her lips, all wet and needy, so desperate for more.

You have to ignite her passion and her desire to be loved, make her feel special, and fill her with thirst and hunger for our touch and our love. All her thoughts should belong only to us. But how did we end Yeosangie? Tell me, huh? Our Rosa has an animal terror before you. Sarang is afraid of you. Isn't that really pathetic? You know, I can smell that sweet scent of fear on her sheets.” San buried his face in the soft fabric of the silk pillow on which Sarang usually slept and took a deep, slow breath. “So damn delicious… I want to eat her whole.”

All he wanted now was to feel her from the inside, so that her scent would stay forever in his lungs, merge with his blood, be absorbed into his skin, and become an integral part of it.

God, he is prepared to worship this woman and idolize her in every conceivable way. 

She was his.

Not in some figurative or metaphorical sense, no. She was his everything. A soul that fills the shell with his dead body, blood black as night, that runs through his veins, his thoughts. Every second of his life. San couldn't tell where he ended, and she began, for you were two halves fused together into a single breathing living being.

The beginning and the end of his life

If he could know death, which was no longer possible for him, he would be happy to suffocate on that heady aroma that was spinning his head like a powerful drug. And to do so until death takes him into his arms.

How beautiful would his death be! Silk sheets, roses, and Sarang are the only true loves.

“She smells so divine, Sangie; how can you resist this temptation?” His back arched gracefully. Under the golden canvas of the skin, the jagged vertebral bones were outlined, and the flexible muscles were stretched like tight velvet ribbons. The relief of his chiseled abs pressing against the bed, his thighs rushing up, creating a perfect s-line.

He moved so smoothly. A large predatory cat, draining gross sexuality and animal dominance. A true erotic vision, fringed by the diffused glow of the lazy midday sun. The smell of her fear brought out the worst in him and made him crave to devour her heart and soul, but he couldn't do it.

“You don't know shit, San. You come here whenever you want and act like a cranky kid, pouting and expressing anger because you couldn't get her first. What a pity, because I was the one who made the connection. I can feel her; I can feel her in my veins; I don't have to act like a bitch in heat fucking her bed.” Yeosang's voice was indifferently cold, so deceptively calm, but San could clearly hear the poisonous malice in every word he said.

It looks like he hit a nerve.

“You tell me you'd never been in my place, Yeosangie?”  San grinned, and on his cheeks appeared charming dimples. “You never could lie;you always spilled everything to Seonghwa like a good puppy at the first snap of his fingers. You should ask Wooyoung to teach you some lessons if you want to play games with me. We all know exactly what you do, so didn't be shy about it, honey. Do you think you can hide from Hongjoong your little dream manipulation, constant stalking, and night visits? Or how pathetic and pathetic you look, whining and wriggling like a whore when you come in with her dirty laundry, which you hide under your pillow. Oh my God, what will Seonghwa say when he finds out? You should care. Our good boy has gone to the dark side; he's going to be so disappointed that he lost his mutt. Although you know, maybe you and Wooyoung aren't as different as I originally thought. He's just as pathetic a puppy as you are, my beautiful brother, and look how that turned out for him. Perhaps you'll be the next one to end up in a coffin. I'd change my behavior if I were you. Bad boys get punished.” There was mockery and outright bullying in his voice.

That's right, they were family; their loyalty to each other was an unbreakable blood oath, and if necessary, they would be willing to die for each other. Blood is thicker than water. But the bond they shared with Sarang was different from anything that could be explained. She wasn't a missing part; to think so would be foolish. No, she was a part of themselves, a part of their dead souls, filling their bodies with a semblance of life. Something extremely more dangerous than any possible blood bond. A bond where the lines between reality and fantasy, obsession and morality, understanding and rationality were blurred.  And that bond was the reason, why Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa were still resting in their luxurious coffins. Iron, velvet, and crystal—so completely different, so frighteningly the same.

San remembers with pleasure how good it felt to drive stakes into their black hearts. The spell would be broken with a kiss. Perfectly. He hopes their sleep will be eternal. This time, it should be different. He will be the first, yes. San will be first—not Seonghwa, not Hongjoong, not Wooyoung, but him.

That's right. Everything will be the way it should be from the beginning. After all, he was the one who started it all.

Once upon a time, Sarang belonged only to him.

“San…” Yeosang hissed menacingly, digging his bony fingers forcefully into the soft feline fur, causing Yoru to meow painfully and curl up into a ball in his lap. His fangs bared, scratching his plump lower lip, and black veins trickled in an intricate pattern down his thin neck.

The brunette laughed and rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the pillow, covering his eyes dreamily.

The silk felt wonderful against his bare skin.

“You hiss like a kitten; will you show me your sharp little teeth?”

“You'd better watch out for your tongue, or I might rip it out.” The fierce gaze literally stabbed him. It burned and penetrated to the core of his being.

“I dare you.” The bloodied lips opened, allowing the pointed tip of his tongue to traverse the tortured, swollen flesh, licking away the blood that seeped to the surface.

“Let his lips be like rose petals - red as fresh blood.” Said the Queen Witch.

San covered his eyes and completely ignored the angry brunette. He loved to play with fire. It was his nature. If it had been Hongjoon or Mingi in Yeosan's place, he might have thought twice before poking the tiger with a stick, and of course he would never intentionally offend Seonghwa; the outcome of any of those confrontations would not have been in his favor. But this was Yeosang - airy and gentle as melting snow.

The shadows of San's long eyelashes lay in a lacy pattern on his heart-wrenching cheekbones. They were one of the most striking features of his appearance - sharp and angular - and they made his face a masterpiece. A creation skilfully crafted by the hand of a master.

Yeosang's beauty was soft and angelic, the kind of beauty one might see on the faces of the winged, plump cherubs beneath the vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals. He had once admired their beauty so much, especially when he tore their flesh with his claws and tore baby, fluffy wings from their pale, soft bodies.

Such an exquisite, decadent taste.

San's beauty was of a completely different kind: vicious, dark and hypnotic. Chiseled like the eternally frozen perfection of a pagan marble god, every line of his face was sharp and deadly seductive. From the feline cut of his eyes, shimmering with silvery immortality, to the capriciously curved corners of his plump lips, always inflamed and soft, so tortured and tender from incessant biting and kissing…

San's appearance was sinful.

He was the most desirable of all nightmares, the special kind that seduces the girls of the church, then fills his bathtub with their blood and organizes orgies in the bloody pieces of their torn bodies. San was formidable and intimidating, but his aura was alluring and seductive. The terrible prospect of an inevitable end and death had never looked so appealing. Maybe he was having an affair with you, or maybe he was going to kill you. There was lust, danger, and rage. There was a delicate balance between horror and desire, as if he were the embodiment of both the horror and the charm of God. He was the man everyone secretly dreams about when they caress themselves before going to bed, in a cold, lonely bed.

He was the person who made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and who made you experience a shivering sensation of fear that would spread over all of your exposed areas.

San was undoubtedly that person. Despite the potential for his eyes to linger on your skin, his presence was desired. Exquisite wounds, reminiscent of blossoms from damaged tissue, were created by his razor-sharp canines.

Death and sex were not enough for San; he had a craving for disorder and hot sensations.

He always wanted more, whether it was blood or pleasure. He never felt satisfied.

His sole desire was Rose—just her alone.

“Do you smell that Sangie scent?” San inhaled deeply again that intoxicating divine scent, resisting the urge to savor her flavor like a dog, choking and whimpering. “Mmmm, I want her so badly. I want her whole, every fucking cell of her body. She's driving me crazy.”

Sarang emitted a scent that was distinctly sharp and overpowering in its fragrance. Reminiscent of aged wine, it was infused with the bitterness of dark chocolate, the piquancy of red pepper, and the sweetness of roses. It tastes like sin and blessing at the same time. Like a slight saltiness akin to the tears she had shed, he longed to lick them off her rounded, flushed cheeks. The fruity sweetness of illicit fruit. The taste of his own blood. The metal and thick aroma of their sexual encounter. Thick as semen and honey.

San wants to have her. Wants her to love him. He desires his love to be reciprocated as fervently and passionately as he does.

His only wish is her love.

Although it is not enough for him to possess her love, he wants her to have an intense and almost sadistic affection for him—one that goes beyond what seems possible. He yearns for her to destroy him. Because he's confident in Sarang's ability to do so. He needs more. More than she could offer him, more than she could ever agree to. He is but a slave, created to worship her.

San's aim is to belong to her; he would go to any extent, even to the point of destroying the entire world, if that is what it takes to achieve that. The value of her love is immeasurable, and his objective is absolute.   She is the center of his life and the very essence of his being.   She is the haunting presence in his dreams, a seductive force that both seduces and tortures. The midnight idol of his desire, the serpent that dwells around his heart, tempts him to sin.

San craves her love so much, and that need is so painful, so all-consuming, and so twisted. If need be, he would kill her with his own hands, just to be sure that no one else would ever have her.

Sharing her with his brothers was like hellfire burning him from the inside out, but it was a paltry sacrifice he could make in exchange for her love.

This time, he won't let her go. This time, not even death would dare separate them. Saran will be his. She will be theirs. In life. In death. Forever and ever.

Soon.

It will happen so soon. San can't wait for the day when his Goddess is beneath him, in the cage of his body, sprawled on the black velvet of his bed. With his fangs deep into her sweet flesh, and she will screaming his name in a haze of ecstatic pleasure.

He would make her see stars. San will take her all the way to the doors of Heaven.

“San,” “San,” “San,” “San” over and over, until her voice completely collapses to a painful wheeze, until he absorbs every tiny sound she makes, every moan, every breath, every barely perceptible note, until all she will remember is his name.

Until Sarang whispers right into his lips, “I am yours.”

Soon.

In the meantime, San can patiently wait. He will wait as he always has, obediently and without complaint. He will be such a good boy. San will wait obediently, as he has done for centuries and centuries before. Until the time is right to pursue his desires, he will take all that he has dreamt of, and God will save the souls of those who get in his way.

Right now, he thinks he could die here — in her bed, surrounded by the lingering warmth of her body and her maddening scent. He would like nothing more than to show her all his passion and devotion and all the love he could give her.

He dreams of running his lips over her skin and tasting her until his whole face is wet and glistening with her juices. He will fuck her into oblivion until night turns to day and then drown her in tenderness, worshiping her caress-weary body as an obedient slave should.

Sometimes, he thinks it's not normal—the feelings he has for her. Such love simply cannot exist. How can someone love someone so much? Is it normal to hate the very existence of nature and the heavenly bodies for being able to see her beauty, which should belong to him alone?

However, these were only momentary musings until he regained his composure, dispelling any doubts. How could he even question his love? It felt so perfect and effortless, like breathing. How could such thoughts even enter his mind?

Her love was a life worth living.

It was destined since the dawn of time, when spirits roamed the earth, the sun was young, and the old gods had not yet vanished. She belonged to them, and they belonged to her. They sensed her first breath on their lips. He felt. 

Their love bloomed again—a blood rose.

Soon…

These fantasies drove him mad; every cell ignited with the desire to possess, awakening his animal predatory nature. The ugly nature of his genuinely depraved being.

He pictured Sarang biting into his neck and taking possession of him. She aimed at him as if he were nothing more than a thing, a toy for her amusement.

“Say my name, Sarang. Express your fondness for me and acknowledge that I am your only one. I want you to own me and claim me as yours. Say my name until it burns your lips. Again and again. Drink my blood, bite me to death; I'm nothing more than your slave, just a pathetic means of pleasure. Hit me. Hurt me, I beg you. I need it so badly. Please, my love, I am begging you to love me. Love… Love me so much until it kills me. That is what I wish for.”

His hips moved smoothly, grinding his arousal against the rumpled bedclothes. San moaned, breathlessly gasping as he found the perfect angle to satisfy his intense desire for release. He needs to cum; he couldn't leave here without cumming. He buried his face in the pillow, panting and whimpering like a wild animal possessed. His primal instincts demanded he leave his mark on her, to possess her and fuck her into oblivion until her belly bloated from the amount of cum pouring into her and her head felt light and empty.

His claws lengthened, digging into the mattress, leaving sickening jagged stripes as his hips moved uncontrollably, continuing to rub his throbbing wet cock against the silken folds of the crumpled sheets.

The sounds he made were almost heavenly.

Soft, extended moans that turned into pitiful sobs. He sounded like an angel in the throes of passion.

In his fantasies, San imagined drinking from her as long scarlet streams of her sweet blood ran down their naked bodies, staining everything red. How deeply he entered her body, seeing the imprint of his cock on her flat stomach as her neat, pointed nails plowed into his back into gaping lacerations.

His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. San needed to cum; he was on the verge of madness. The need for pleasure was more obvious than anything around him at the moment. The transparent essence of his arousal dripped down onto the sheets, sticking to his golden, wet skin with every movement of his muscled thighs.

His thoughts returned to the dark, vicious images of hot animal sex. A fine shiver ran down his entire body.

He will run his tongue along every contour of the intricate bloody lines, licking up every last drop. First, the longest neck-open and vulnerable to his insatiable mouth, then lower down the hollow between the heavy breasts, rising in time with her labored breathing. His lips would close around the hard pink nipples, scraping them with his teeth, making her squeal and gasp. Lower down her flat belly, where the flowers of his hungry kisses and hard touches bloomed. Until his tongue is between the moist puffy folds of her pussy, he runs the pointed tip along the soft silken flesh, plunging deeper into the tight hole where blood mingles with her natural sweetness. He wants to feel the velvety, wet walls of her vagina clench and quiver around his tongue.

“Sarang!” His voice was hoarse, and his hands gripped the sheets beneath him with such force that his knuckles turned white, almost tearing the skin.

He looked pornographic.

San was so lost in his fantasies that he had completely forgotten about Yeosang, who was still in this room, until he was reminded of it with a sharp, painful tug of his hair. Long, thin fingers gripped the dark, damp strands with force and tilted his head back rigidly, revealing a view of a strong neck with veins swollen from exertion and beads of sweat running down her

“Here we go, such a pathetic, stupid bitch.” Yeosang said it with mockery in his voice. His lips curled into a wicked smirk, and San could feel it on his skin as the brunet whispered in his ear. “Look at you, you're nothing more than a slut; where's your pride, San, eh? The great general of the dark army, the heartless ice prince, the ruthless Ripper, is nothing more than a drooling whore shamefully rubbing his cock against the sheets.” Yeosang's fingernails dug painfully into his scalp, tugging harder on the long silk strands the color of night.

“Yes, yes, keep calling me that.” His request sounded like a plea. All Yeosang's words made him move faster, almost in desperation.

The rhythm of his hips became erratic and uncontrollable. He was close. His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat.

“Are you imagine fucking her, Sannie, hmm? Or what would it taste like? I bet the taste will be heavenly; she's sweeter than ever in this life. Oh no, I know exactly what you're thinking.” A mocking chuckle escaped his ruby-red lips. “You want her to bite you.” Those wicked lips pressed against the frantically beating pulse point. “Right here.” Yeosang's teeth sank with force into the flushed skin of San's neck—that particular sensitive spot on his neck beneath a scattering of pale freckles.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure, his mouth opened in a silent moan, and his hips shook with the intensity of his orgasm. Thick, hot cum splattered onto the sheets, staining them with the pale, milky liquid.

The brunet unclenched his teeth, releasing the tender skin. The bite mark was wine-red, with swollen incisor impressions and drops of black blood in the hollows. A poisonous flower, tempting to know sin.

“Sannie, look at the mess you'd made. Truly a royal fuck. I always thought it was more Mingi's style.” Finally, thin but surprisingly strong fingers let go of the silken strands, allowing San to rest his face tiredly against the pillow. His whole body relaxes after the overwhelming orgasm. The entire pillow is soaked with drool and sweat, and semen cools beneath his stomach, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

He opens one eye and looks up at the vampire leaning over him with a lecherous smile.

“Would you like to join me, my beautiful brother? We still have a few hours before she gets home.” The brunet rolls onto his back to make room for Yeosang in the bed. His fingers run along the sculpted curves of his abs, scooping up the viscous, pearly liquid and sliding it into his mouth. “Mmm…” A long tongue swirled around his fingers, licking up every drop with lazy, slow pleasure.

“You're disgusting, San.” Yeosang puckered his lips in disgust, looking around at the brunette sprawled on the bed. He turned sharply on his heels and strode away from the room;  to he pick up Yoru on his way, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, in his arms. “Get up; we have to go. Hongjoon is calling us.”

“You're not leaving the cat?”

The brunette turned around over his shoulder, meeting his gaze with San's silver eyes.

“June misses his darling; for our little girl, it's time to come home.”

San propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the departing Yeosang. His lips stretched in a satisfied smile full of devilish anticipation.

The time had finally come.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

1st POV

"Feed me to the wolves, let them take my flesh."

“Well, I'm glad to finally meet you in a more relaxed setting, Miss Ahn. Please take a seat.” With an elegant gesture, the man motioned me to a deep leather chair in front of his desk. On the glass tabletop was a silver plaque engraved with the name “Mr. Lee Taeho”.

“Miss An” - how sad and tragic that sounds. I never wanted to try out this role. I didn't like being addressed like that, because it was always Mina, and before her, it was my grandmother, and probably my mother was addressed like that when she was alive.

But here I am, the new Miss Ahn, and unlike my predecessors, I have not sought to carry the weight of this unbearable crown. I don't need the congratulatory ribbons and the wet glitter sequins smeared across my face.

Although there was nothing in the address itself that I could call unpleasant, the tone with which it was always delivered foreshadowed the inevitable tragic ending of its own and tasted of earth and chrysanthemums.

You're bound to end up as one of them; it's not all by chance, Sarang.   Don't kid yourself.

I saw the future as a series of predetermined events, especially after Mina's death. She had the arrogance to dispose of my life as she saw fit, putting chains of obligations and secrets around my neck. I buried her in the ground, and my days became nothing more than a list of dull plans, paltry hopes, and bitter regrets, as murky as the water in the city canals through which a coffin floats. Still, I couldn't help but wonder who would be the next Miss An when I died, or would I be the one to hold that title forever?

There are never any former queens. There are only dead ones.

I could feel the blood flowing faster through my veins.

For a few moments, there was silence around us, thick and enveloping like fog. If I'd felt any hint of confidence as I walked through the tall glass doors of Silver & Black LTD, now, alone with this man, I was floundering in my social insecurity like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. I resisted the urge to squirm under the gaze of his night-dark eyes. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Lee Taeho wasn't just one of Silver & Black's most successful lawyers; he was also a devilishly handsome man.

He was built like a god. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a tight-fitting white shirt that accentuated his muscular biceps, bulging pecs, and flat stomach. The image of strength and power was completed by the perfectly tailored, tight-fitting trousers. The rolled-up sleeves revealed several tattoos on his wiry forearms—something in Latin that I couldn't make out.

His face was also striking, with angular, pointed features that would have looked strange and out of place on anyone else, but the luscious, perfectly sculpted lips made them something unimaginable and outrageously beautiful.

I felt uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze. He was looking at me like I was something special, but not in a sexual or romantic way; rather, it was the look of an explorer who had found an unexpected treasure in a pile of rubbish.

“I honestly didn't expect you to have any free time in the next few months, so thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

To be honest, I knew absolutely nothing about Silver & Black until Soomin told me about them on the way here. Soo turned out to be absolutely right when she told me about them. This place was the epitome of the arrogant domination of money and power—cold, glassy, and sterile, like a morgue where the remains of all “happy stories” are taken.

I could never belong to such a place, but I could easily imagine Mina here, with her developing blood curls and the unemotional grandeur of royalty. People like my sister were part of that 'proper' society so suited to closed Sunday clubs and icy glass offices. Like all of her kind, Mina was a great predator, used to labeling people and giving them her own names and definitions. She knew exactly how to make those around her feel uncomfortable with just one look.

Some people have everything, others nothing. It's as cruel and true as the inequality of love.

I still didn't understand how Mina had so much money to afford the services of this company, but judging by how polite and “sweetly” the receptionist greeted me at the entrance, she was very much appreciated here.

Blood of my blood.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Saran.” He said that, and I looked back at him in surprise. It wasn't so much the fact that he allowed himself a familiarity that surprised me, but the way he said my name—as if it had always belonged to his lips. It was as if he'd said it over and over again until the intonation was perfect.

My heart beats fast in my chest, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else entirely.

“We will always make time for you. If you'll allow me to be frank, I've left a few free hours each day, just in case you decide to call me. Honestly, I expected it to take a little less time on your part, but who am I to judge you, Sarang?”

“But why?” I tried to gather information and put it together in a way that wasn't absurd. I didn't want to assume anything.

“Why? Do I have to explain? Maybe I just wanted to see you; you're a beautiful girl, and I'm a great admirer of the beautiful. He smiled, seemingly satisfied with the embarrassment that must have been written on my face. I could feel the heat spilling over my cheeks, turning them a painfully inflamed shade of red.

I had never been a girl with a 'cute' blush. I was more like a girl burned by the gold of the sun, pressing her cheek directly against the boiling, bubbling surface of the sun.

Taeho lightly drummed his perfectly filed nails on the glass tabletop, completely ignoring my obvious embarrassment at the situation, and continued:

“But let's say that this is due to the fact that your dear sister was a valued client of ours, whom everyone here at Silver & Black LTD sincerely appreciated. Miss Ahn was our special customer. All the staff will agree with me; your sister is impossible not to love.”

“A special client?” I interjected. Somehow, that didn't surprise me at all. Of course, it was only natural that Mina was always at the center of the universe. People followed the sound of her voice like rats behind the magical melody of the flute.

“Are you surprised, Sarang? Your sister has helped our firm in many ways, bringing us new clients and introducing us to the 'right' people, making our firm one of the best in Korea. She's contributed a lot to the development of Silver & Black. There was a strange note in his voice, as if between the cracks there was something terrible—a terrible secret that could change my whole life.

For some reason, I don't feel comfortable at all right now.

“I'm pleased… hmm, or rather, I'm pleased to know that my sister has done so much for you. Lately, she and I haven't really been close, and we've barely chatted. So I didn't know where she went or what kind of people she hung out with.” My words come out a little sour, and I press my lips together.

The lovely Mina, as always, is proving to be the best. I wonder if the day will come when she damn pedestal will be nothing but a pile of ruins at my feet. I thought all this time you'd been pining for roses, but instead you've been doing the right thing. What else don't I know about you, Ahn Min?

What don't I want to know about you?

''Yes, yes, she helped us a lot. Now let's get on with signing the documents, do you mind? I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary.” His words were very dry, businesslike, and in no way in keeping with the previous flirtation. Something flashed in his eyes—concern, doubt, maybe even fear—there was a tense tremor in his hands, and his whole aura changed, as if something huge and evil had turned its attention to him.

“Sure, let's get started.”

The entire process took no more than 30 minutes. I signed document after document, with occasional detached comments from Mr. Lee, which were completely at odds with his previous behavior. There was nothing special about the documents, except for one thing: Rose Hill. As best, I could make out from the extensive stack of papers, it was a small house in the style of Victorian England. It was in the ownership of a gated cottage community, the grounds of which were owned by a private company. It was all too complex and confusing to realize the meaning in the space of 30 minutes. I'll deal with it later, most likely in the company of Soomin and a couple of bottles of wine.

“Can I sell the house I inherited, Rose Hill?” I asked without lifting my head from the papers; a few more strokes and I could be out of here. The atmosphere in the office was terribly tense; my skin itched unpleasantly and tingled in places as if it no longer belonged to me.

“To my regret, I cannot help you in this matter. In all matters concerning Rose Hill, you must deal directly with the owners of the land; I will email you their contacts.” The smile he gave me was forced, and I couldn't help but wonder what had made such a difference in his change of mood.

“Okay, thank you.” I signed the last form and handed the pile of paperwork to Mr. Lee. “I'm done; hopefully everything is settled now. Can I get a copy of the documents, preferably today?”

Taeho cursorily flicked through the pages to make sure each one was signed.

 “Our administrator, Sunwoo, will give you all the documents. There is one more thing you need to get before you leave. When you leave here, go further down the corridor to the vault, and Bora will show you a locker in the storage room that belongs to your sister. Now, if you'll excuse me, my next customer is waiting, and I don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Lee.” I clumsily rose from my chair, trying to get out of this stuffy room as quickly as possible. The air felt pressurized, and I felt like I was going to start suffocating a little more. I needed to get out of here right now.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Miss Ahn. Please take care of yourself.” The look he gave me was sad—so unusually sad, like the look of a man living his last day on earth. It was as if the end had come for him before he could realize it.

His words, on the contrary, were a warning. “Take care of yourself.” What kind of lawyer wishes that to a client as a farewell? Was I in danger? Perhaps you were. Although that's true, it's worth crossing out the word “perhaps”, yes, I was in danger. Could he have known about it? Did Taeho know about the roses or the people who sent those awful flowers? Was there something he hadn't told me? A thousand questions were in my head as I walked out of his office.

Mechanically, I reach for the strands of pearls at my neck and twist them around my fingers, nervousness bubbling in my stomach. This isn't some worldwide conspiracy, Sarang. Wake up.

I think I'm becoming paranoid.

The door closes softly behind me. I'm alone in a sterile, shiny corridor.

In the distance, I hear a cheerful laugh—Soomin. She was definitely laughing. Soo is having a great time waiting for me to wrap things up. Even though she was denied my escort to Mr. Lee's office, she wasn't upset at all because the nice receptionist, Sunwoo, I think his name was, was determined not to let her get bored alone.

I could have fallen in love with him. He was charming and cute, with a sweet, heart-shaped smile that would make your teeth rot. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, Armani Prive, in a thinly stitched pinstripe. I'd say he looked like a puppy. With those big, wet, shiny eyes and the way he struck the right pose when you told him to.

Yes, that was the kind of guy I fell in love with—the kind with a good reputation and a well-paid job—the kind who makes love, not fucks. They're the ones who make sure he looks you in the eye and whispers to you about how good you're feeling when he's caressing your body.

Good boys. Obedient boys. Sugar-coated like candy.

If I fell in love with a guy like that, Soomin would break him up like a Christmas candy bar and take a bite right down the middle of him. She liked that type—kind, gentle, and submissive. There had never been a lack of male attention in her life, but for some reason, Soo had always surrounded herself with this type of boy, like colorful toys. She wasn't afraid to break them because she could always move on to the next one. They never crossed her, nodding in obedience and jumping as high as she asked. Men were no more precious to Soo than broken crystal balls, shimmering but useless.

The corridor in front of me was long and empty, with a single door at the end. The sound of heels hitting marble tiles echoed in my head, and the checkerboard pattern on the marble was jarring. For a moment, I thought the corridor was narrowing like a rabbit hole, endless and dark. I was short of air, unable to breathe, and the oxygen in my lungs was as thick and viscous as swamp sludge. I clawed at my neck with my fingernails, trying to pull off the pearl collar, but I felt myself tightening it stronger. My eyes stung from tears and mascara, and ink streaks ran down my cheeks, and somehow they felt colder than they should have.

My fingernails dug into the skin on my collarbones, scratching at it with cruelty and anger.

I needed to get away from myself. To be separate from my body and the way I felt. The nightmare awakened inside me, licking my veins, working its way inside, and gnawing into my soul. My consciousness was beyond my mind.

I hear the sound of tearing threads and thousands of pearls falling at my feet, and I fall with them. I want to go back to before it all began. Before the pain, Before the roses.

Fluorescent lights flash like the tails of nameless comets on the pearly roundness of the beads. I see stars exploding behind my eyes, painting the underside of my eyelids with intricate strokes—the constellation Gemini. Nergal. I want to remember the days when roses were just roses, not home to the ghosts of my soul.

I hear a sound—it's pearls crunching under sharp heels. Under steel heels, like the teeth of the Witch Queen. 

“Oh my God, Saran!” Someone shouts. Soomin isn't laughing anymore.

Her hands are so cold against my clammy skin. She presses my face against her chest, and the feverish beating of her heart brings me back to reality. She is my white rabbit.

Voices, voices—there are so many of them. It's a cacophony of sounds and unpleasant cracking noises. The pearls keep breaking, and I keep crying.

Someone brings me a glass of unpleasantly cold water; it runs down my throat like a liquid flame.

I finally took a breath.

“Take me home.” That's all I can say right now. I want to go home, away from the world, away from the sun, and away from the memories.

“She's having a panic attack; she needs air.”

“No! I need to go home.”

“It's OK, sweetheart. I've got you,” Soo purrs, kissing the top of my head like a little baby. She pulls me off the floor with effort, lifting me to my feet.

I look down at the checkered pattern of the marble slabs and at the scattered pearls. In some places, the white slabs are smeared with red, like lipstick smeared by a kiss. This is blood. My blood.

My legs shake like a newborn fawn as Soomin leads me away from this place. Every step was painful, almost more painful than Soo's tight grip on my forearm.   “It's okay, Sarang, we're going home.”

It's okay, Sarang.

It's okay.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“Are you sure you're feeling better?”

“Yeah, I'm fine now.” I squeezed out the shadow of a smile. Apparently it was useless; the look in her eyes remained the same: worried, with fear lurking around the edges. Fear for me.

“How long have you been having these attacks?”

“This is the first time. I guess… I don't know. Let's just say it's a consequence of trauma. I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm so sorry.” Soo crouched on the edge of the bed, taking my hand gently. I was made of glass; she didn't want to break me or do the opposite by hurting herself on me. “It's so horrible that you have to go through all this, baby.”

“Yes, it is.” What else could I say? I could not have said a word, and everything would have been understood. The wounds under the bandage itched terribly. Long red marks stretched along my collarbones and neck. Mascara was still smeared across my face, as was the soft pink lip gloss. I looked like a mess. I was a mess.

My throat was all dry and thirsty, and my eyes were so swollen I couldn't even open them fully.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight, love? We can watch a film or something; maybe one of those stupid comedy shows Mina hated. I'll make dinner and open the wine.”

“No need; I'll be fine. Soomin, go home; you should be resting too, not babysitting me. I'm fine, really. I'm feeling better, and I'll definitely get through the night. I'll probably go straight to sleep as soon as you leave.” Much as I loved Soo, I didn't feel like seeing anyone right now.

“If you say so, Please call me in the morning as soon as you wake up, okay?”

“Of course. Be safe, Soo. Love you.” I thought I covered my eyes for only a second before I heard the click of the front door. The mark of her kiss burned on my cheek.

I don't know how many hours I sat like that—completely still, not taking my eyes off the dark landscape outside the window, which was getting brighter now that a little moonlight was seeping through the thick clouds.

I didn't want to get out of bed, drowning in pillows and blankets like a pipe dream. I felt good in my bed. I couldn't understand what exactly had changed, but I could feel the change. Even in the morning, the bed had been cold and lonely, but now the silk under my fingers was warmer and softer to the touch. Even the smell of the blankets seemed to be different, like purple lilies and musk, a scent that remotely reminded me of something very familiar but long forgotten. Could it have been Soo's perfume? No, more like the scent that Yoru always brought with her.

By the way, where did she go? She was here when I left this morning, but knowing her talent for disappearing and reappearing at will, I didn't hold out much hope of seeing her today. It would be nice to have her around now, though.

I rolled onto my side, resting my cheek against the pillow. I didn't want to sleep, but I didn't want to get out of bed either. My gaze settled on the small box that lay on the chair across from the bed. A casket from a storage locker.

After my panic attack, Soomin took it away, since I was apparently incapable of doing so. Next to it was a neat stack of papers with black paint poisonously embedded in them, listing all the possessions I now owned, including Rose Hill, but the most valuable and important thing was kept in this little silver coffin.

The metal walls of the casket shimmered like liquid silver when moonlight hit them. I was mesmerized by this otherworldly glow. Number 0711 - Miss Ahn Mina. Sometimes a lifetime can be folded like origami and placed on a velvet cushion like a collector's item.

I struggled with myself for a few more minutes before I threw back the blankets and got out of bed. My curiosity outweighed my fear. At that moment, I had to remind myself that “curiosity killed the cat,” and if I had been any smarter, I would have thrown the box to hell and never thought of it again.

The box opened silently, and I felt a chill, as if someone had dipped my heart in ice water. There weren't many things in the box—something old, something new, and something blue—all like a wedding tradition. It wasn't like Mina. She had always despised the idea of marriage; the very thought of anyone daring to claim her freedom made her sick.

It wasn't for her, and it wasn't for me.

Weddings are gorgeous, creamy bouquets of fragrant flowers that breathe in the dawn. At the end of a long journey down a narrow church aisle, a handsome prince awaits with the promise of eternal love. As if. Girls, guard your hearts, for they will eat them for breakfast. Piece by piece, like a birthday cake, until there's nothing left to keep you alive.

Then there'll be another, just as naive. And then another, and so on, endlessly. That's all love is. A streak of devil's rubies and eaten hearts.

There was no heart and no love in that box. Just one little piece of paper with torn edges and a handful of precious trinkets. Just one small puzzle piece that had fallen out of a huge and complex picture. I could recognize Mina's handwriting from a million others, but the words written on that little piece of paper were not hers. In each letter lurked something that had never belonged to Mina; her hand had scrawled those lines, but her lips had never uttered those words.

“My only love. My divine Rose, when I leave this world, I will leave you everything you could ever want. When you read this, I will be gone. Everything has been arranged; everything is ready for you. The whole world will belong to you, my love. I took care of it. On the back of this page, I have left the number of my good friend. Please give him a call; he will help you with all the things you need. He'll be waiting for you. He is the only one you can trust, Sarang. Your beloved Mina P.S. Don't forget, love is eternal.”

I flipped the sheet to the other side. The handwriting was the same but so different; the letters were sharp and crumpled, as if they were written in a hurry.

Hongjoong. I had heard that name before. I knew the taste of it on my tongue.

My fingers hurriedly dialed the number; I didn't look at the time, and, to be honest, I didn't care. I wanted to make sure that he was real and that this wasn't another one of her crazy fantasies that would lead me down a blind alley. I needed to know that Hongjoong wasn't fiction but blood and flesh, intermittent breathing, and an unevenly beating pulse.

At the other end of the phone, the long beeps were interrupted, there was a static pause for a second, and then I heard the sleepy and so welcome sound:

“Hello.”

[noveldivergence]

wip: apostate genre(s): horror, thriller subgenre(s): lovecraftian, southern gothic

During an investigation into a serial killer down in Georgia, FBI agent Bell Baylor is plagued by strange dreams and experiences that remind him of a traumatizing childhood. Symbols haunt the crime scenes, and he could swear he's seen them before....

When the investigation turns to an eccentric local family, Bell and his partner Luther Tanner are drawn more into a strange web of lies and conspiracy surrounding the town. However, the killer is relying on Bell assuming that the most obvious answers are correct.

So is something else.

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DM TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST

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Bell Baylor hated the heat and its miserable twin, humidity. Sweat clung, caul-like, on his forehead as he stood in the field beneath a haint-blue sky. He hated the feeling of the sunscreen he’d smeared on his face as a half-measure, streaking deep into the lines of his face. He hated way the crust of sunscreen that dripped down his temples, a mixture of sweat and chemicals colored a bone-bleached white. He hated the sound of the cicadas, screaming their lusty songs from the trees, haunting him since he’d gotten here. He hated the empty creek bed in front of him too, all dried up and dead. It had been full of life once. 

So had the man laying in it. Now both man and creek lay empty, dry as a bone in the hot Georgia sun. 

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WARNINGS: cults, violence, unreality, torture, murder, cannibalism/anthropophagy, adult age gap relationships, religion critical

TAGS: @lord-fallen @coffeexafterxmidnight

[madebyjungkookie]

CANVAS WHISPERS || JJK (part01)

summery: the chapter sees you, from your point of view, trying with all your might to pass your painting exam for the umpteenth time, and failing. you fight the panic attack that assails you in every way, and you can't help but search your diary for some relief before your life is turned upside down.

genre: fanfiction, dark romance, jungkook!artist x art student oc

warnings: mention and description of panic attack; y/n is kinda depressed and feels alone most of the time

rating: 18+, minor do NOT interact

word count: 2,3k

| masterlist |

Y/n's pov I felt so overwhelmed. All I could do was sigh in front of that canvas, but not one of those sighs that throws out everything you have inside. A sigh choked, heartbroken, full of ghosts and horror, everything I hide from others.

I always managed to do it, no one ever knew how much I was suffering: no matter how difficult it was, people were convinced I was just a spoilt snob with a stench under my nose.

They think daddy keeps the flat I live in. They envy me because I already live alone. How would they know?! The reality is quite different.

The truth is that I have not lived all this time. I have always felt at fault in front of others, at fault for experience, for skills, for tenacity and spontaneity.

I saw everyone emerge in life, smiling, shouting, snickering, simply living. While I was compulsorily confined to my house to study, the maid was under orders to make sure I didn't get my ass out of the chair.

For goodness sake, rich parents, with a prestigious career behind them, but with the emotional sense of an ant.

I, their only child, had always been designed as an extension of themselves, with the sole intention of carrying out what they had planned for me from the day of my conception.

I had to live in function of them.

One day, things simply changed or maybe simply my heart broke into a thousand sharp pieces like glass thrown through a wall.

My heart ached, my teeth were gritted, my hands clenched into a fist and my eyes ice cold as they tried to hold back all the tears that threatened to spill out.

It was my graduation day. Parents and children rejoiced around me while my parents scolded me because I had failed to give a valedictory speech worthy of note.

I had the merit of being the best in school and they had chosen me for that important moment, they thought I could set an example, but I was losing a piece of me, every second that passed.

How could I be an example to kids who expected me to have a clear idea of what my future would be?

They would have wanted hope, long-lost emotion.

They thought I could give them support, which I never received.

They all had high, high expectations of me. They all took it for granted that I would make it.

But I wouldn't.

So that very night I ran away. I ran away from my parents and their impositions for me to attend medical school. With all the strength my legs could muster, I disappeared from that world that terrified me. I began to seek escape from that life that did not belong to me.

I ruffled some clothes, some personal effects, some courage, a lot of money from the safe, and my diary in which my soul had always wandered in pain.

The night after my graduation I hadn't slept a wink. The panic attacks wouldn't stop surfacing, cutting into my heart. My eyes was dry and red and my shaggy hair was the result of what my panicked hands had done.

I was a mess. Everything around me was.

And yet perfection had been imprinted in my skin. It had been instilled in me so thoroughly that I didn't know what it meant to deviate, to make a small stop at something unharmonious.

I knew for sure what balance, what harmony was. From the outside that's all I expressed. But inside? What was inside me? Was something there?

With nothing but the complete knowledge that I wanted to run away from my life, I decided to embrace the only part of my heart that I protected, the only reason to run away, to live.

That part of my heart that I guarded with all my might, waiting one day to open its doors and let it intoxicate me. It was a dream I had carried with me since I was very young.

I thought art could save me. And so I decided to pursue my dream.

I was more of an unexpressed grip dictated by a whirlwind of emotions felt when looking at paintings.

I saw in art the vent I had never been able to express. The only moments of leisure that my adolescence could ever give me were the walks along those enchanted corridors of museums, accompanied by the caretaker.

Each painting carried with it a story. The artist had it, the captured subject too, whether it be a person or a landscape.

Every artist has a past they try to elude, but it tends to explode in their works. I admired this ability of theirs, and it's what propelled me towards my dream.

But my dream is a paradox.

In fact, I find myself in the final year of college by a hair's breadth. The truth is, throughout my life, I've excelled only in studying, so the theoretical and critical part has been a walk in the park for me. Certainly, I can't say the same for the practical aspect.

Regarding drawing, thanks to the discipline I've been taught, I managed to get by, although I always tend to draw rigid, broken shapes. That canvas has never had the pleasure of feeling my hand soften, flow on its rough texture, and create soft sketches to be carried away by.

Painting, on the other hand, seems like something that doesn't belong to me, and that's why I've often thought about abandoning this path, wondering if it's really the right one for me.

Perhaps the pride of not giving in to my parents or the shame I would feel if I gave up... something has kept me holding onto this dream.

Yet, it's the third time I find myself in the same classroom, with the same teacher but different students who are progressing in their university careers. For the third time, I'm retaking the painting exam, knowing for sure that I won't pass it this time either.

Only this exam is standing between me and concluding this race towards my new life. To say that I've made it. But with each attempt, I'm becoming more discouraged.

And there, the bell interrupts my thoughts. On that canvas, only the anxiety of the past hour spent staring at it after a few red and orange lines were imprinted on its rough surface.

I resign myself to the disapproving look of my professor, to the satisfied faces of the students who have just finished their splendid works.

I feel a lump in my throat, a heaviness starting from my heart. An impending panic attack: I sense everything around me spiraling, and my lungs gasp for a bit of fresh air instead of the smell of paint.

In a hurry, I grab my tempera colors, my bag, and my brushes. I run through the hallways, dash down the stairs, and see the exit.

I cross it and seek refuge in the campus garden, right behind the tree that has protected my outbursts, held my secrets, and my fears for three years.

That liberating run had turned into a sharp cry, and a breath that struggled to be expelled.

Once again, hands clenched into fists, long nails breaking into my palm, leaving evidently marked signs. Those marks often left scars in situations where neither my body nor my mind could bear it. That moment fell into that category.

It was all too much – every single emotion, every breath, it was all too suffocating. I always felt like I was drowning in front of hundreds of spectators who helplessly watched me.

I heard a group of students approaching to talk, and I couldn't stay there, so I tried to wipe away the tears and headed towards my apartment. Now I just wanted to go home, lock myself in those four walls where I felt protected. Scream with all the breath my lungs would allow and throw myself into bed.

So, I walked towards the avenue where my apartment was, right nearby. That day Seoul was very windy, and no hat was enough to shield me from that icy wind.

I fumbled my way towards my front door, pushed by that strong breeze when my attention was drawn to a flyer floating in the air. The cardboard was red, and even from a distance, it was clear it had been crumpled.

I chased it for a few meters until it settled on the doormat in front of my building. I picked it up without a second thought.

Now, as I could observe it more closely, I noticed how intense that red was, almost soaked in blood, so powerful was the intensity of that color.

As the wind showed no signs of stopping, I put that flyer in my pocket and headed towards my apartment.

It was quite dark and cold, devoid of any enrichment. Too dull for a girl in her twenties.

But it reflected what I was: nothing special, nothing extravagant; just order, rigidity, and emptiness. That's what I was!

I sighed as soon as I put on my slippers. Now, I had to cook something to eat, or I would die of hunger... so I rushed to the pantry to grab instant noodles. I just wanted to eat them in bed.

And so I did, but as usual, I ended up staining the sheets with the broth and found myself late at night waiting for that terrible stain to dry.

The only thing I could do, instead of waiting in the cold outside the blankets, was to take a hot shower. And here I was.

I slipped into the bathroom and slowly peeled off those warm, thin layers of fabric that had been enveloping me until just now.

The water began to run in the shower and steam made its way into the small room, soon blurring the view.

I let myself be shattered by that cascade of insistent drops, letting all the negative thoughts that had gripped me during the day flow down the drain.

I lay still for a while under that boiling jet and began to think about what I had so much wanted to confess to my diary that night.

As soon as my fingers became wrinkled, I knew it was time to get out of that shower and dry myself properly. I was quick and eager to jump in bed and write.

Dear diary, my mind needs to escape from yet another frustrating day that had only hurt me.

You're my safety space where I can feel free to scream at my soul that I shouldn't shut myself in even more.

All my life, everyone around me made me feel different, out of the ordinary, with something wrong.

My parents were the first: they always clipped my wings, I was asphyxiated by that crystal bowl they had locked me in. They stifled every single hold I had on my imagination.

Now I find myself alone and without the possibility of being able to say that I have experienced what it means to be loved. Nor to love.

Society has made me feel like an outcast, a little virgin saint who is afraid to be fucked.

Let's be clear, and I know I will find the approbation of yours if I'll say that we live in a society where if you don't have sex, people don't accept you; you're the outcast of the situation.

But people can't understand. People don't try to understand.

People don't know how much they can scare, how terrifying it is for someone to open up to them. They don't know how difficult it is for others to understand, empathize with your emotions. They don't know how much it hurts to see these emotions trampled upon.

I would love, once in my life, to experience human warmth. To discover the impulse that drives one person to embrace another, to give them love, to kiss them, to accept every single aspect of them.

To love them, hate them, and then return to admire them, as if that person was the essence of the other's life.

I aspire to find a love that makes me feel alive. I want to feel a whirlwind of emotions. I crave to be overwhelmed by a wave of uncontrollable passion.

I wish to be dragged into hellish oblivion by two hands that are able to show me only heaven.

That pair of hands that I dream of every night, imagine wandering all over my body, doing things to me that I could never fully imagine.

Those fingers touching me, first gently, letting me burn with a slow fire; then with an innate strength.

I let them tear my soul apart, possess it like the most precious thing in this world.

I would let him ruin me, consume me.

Consume my skin, flake my lips, dip my neck, my breasts, my inner thigh with bruises of love, intense shades of red and purple.

I would be his.

But who is that man who in my dreams lets me surrender to him? Whose soul will steal mine? Whose skin will I mark with my nails? Whose lips will tear mine in bites?

I will find those eyes that will love me and tear my clothes off with just a glance. I will find those hands that will possess every single inch of my body.

I will find you.

Yours, Y/n.

[davi-doo]

I finally came around and watched Kinds of Kindness, and I enjoyed it more than I expected! I was quite surprised to learn many people who liked Poor Thing find it trippy and absurd in a bad way, while it was the opposite experience for me regarding the two movies xD

To begin, I feel like I wouldn't be so fascinated by Lanthimos's style of writing and filming if I were less neuro divergent. The crippling dry humor, the rigidity of his character. The awkwardness of their interaction, accompanied by a fixed, and uncomfortably intimate camera lense. At times, the movie scene appears more like a simulation in the mind of someone with social anxiety. That's why I think the style works better in a setting close to modern world, with grocery store and studio appartment, rather than for fantasy/costume drama genre.

With Kinds of Kindness, it reminds me of the Danish horror Speak No Evil. In the movie, the protagonists were trapped by those who first appeared as their kind benefactor. Their boundaries were taken away with smiles and apologies one step at time, until it ultimately costed them their lives. "Why are you doing this?" they asked, and the answer they got was "Because you let me."

In the same light, Kind of Kindness portray the agonizing pressure to bend to social niceties, where the most absurd and impossible demand become reasonable as long as it was phrased nicely enough. It's about the natural longing for love, approval and a sense of community, and all the unspoken rules people internalized in order to achieve it, or take advantage of it. I don't know if it was Lanthimos's intention, but I think his movies always seem to speak from the feeling of alienation, not understanding these hidden rules or genuinely finding them absurd. As someone on the spectrum, I really cannot stress enough how relatable these themes and stylistic choices are to me. Hope he won't ever stop writing these weird-ass scripts.

[vbsvartalf]

Audio Drama Sunday, 12/4/22

Yesterday was a long, big, busy Sunday, filled with some amazing audio dramas that I must share with all of you.

Dead Air, by Realm Media (created by Gwenda Bond) - If you like the true crime genre of podcasts, then a fictional version might just be up your alley. It's suspenseful, emotional, and filled with dark, dry humor. I've been devouring it recently, stopping just short of binging the entire thing in a single setting. I'm not a true crime fan, but I'm still hooked. If you liked Arden, I think you'll like this show.

Greater Boston, by Alexander Danner and Jeff Van Dreason - Humor, surrealism, quiet drama are all at the heart of Greater Boston. I know it's been around for a while and has a huge fandom but I'm excited that I get to experience this show for the first time six years after it started. Once I finish, I have a feeling I'll start the series over again without missing a beat.

A Ninth World Journal, by David S. Dear - The ultimate actual play turned audio drama, A Ninth World Journal episodes might be short but they are packed to the gills with content and keep you guessing as to what is going to happen next. David S. Dear is a fantastic narrator I've heard on several other shows at this point and it's wonderful to see him shine as the star.

Exoplanetary, by C. Christopher Heart - Managing to weave half a dozen sci-fi stories together in a nonlinear fashion without getting things too confusing is no easy task, but Exoplanetary as not only done just that, but thrived at it and keeps me coming back for new stories and new angles. It's filled with heart and emotion that stay with you long after the episodes is finished. From robotic love to colonialism to time travel, this show has it all.

Among the Stars and Bones, by Ungodly Hour Productions - Technically this will be my third listen but each time I get something more out of it, I feel more for the characters and understand their motivations. Telling a story from 8 or 9 limited viewpoints is a great way to employ the unreliable narrator, or as it happens, 8 or 9 unreliable narrators. I've seen recently that they are casting for season 2 and I cannot contain my excitement!

Old Gods of Appalachia, by DeepNerd Media - Folk horror, when done right, is better than any subgenre of any genre of literature, bar none. I will live and die on this hill. Old Gods does folk horror the right way. There's mood and atmosphere, a sense of place and a sense of dread. The show will have you jumping at shadows and creepy noises down by the creek at the witching hour.

The Town Whispers, by Cole Weavers - While similar to Old Gods of Appalachia, The Town Whispers takes cosmic horror and turns it up to 11 alongside all the folk horror that creeps around the edges of the Fort. The story telling is sharp and a sense of doom and dread purvey every word Mr. Weavers speaks. It's beautiful and chilling and leaves me needing more.

Malevolent, by Harlan Guthrie - It's a simple premise, guy wakes up unable to see with a creepy voice in his head that is not his own. Oh also there's a dead body, also there are monsters running around, oh also lots of creepy books, oh also it's set in the heart of Lovecraft Country. What could go wrong? I'm late to the party on the fandom for this show but as I work through the episodes I see why the fandom has exploded Hannibal style all over Tumblr.

Hi Nay, by Motzi Dapul - What if the Magnus Archives were less focused on Eurocentric monsters and fears and entities? What if there was a less organized group of people going after them? What if all of it was recorded lo-fi and given a health dose of Filipino folklore? Well, you'd have Hi Nay and you'd sweep the internets with a new, obsession worthy podcast that teaches as much as it entertains. Also they are working on getting 1000 subs on Youtube so get on that people!

The Kingmaker Histories, by Meg Molloy Tuten - Made by the same geniuses that brought us Less is Morgue, this audio drama gives us a glimpse at a steampunk world filled with magic. I enjoyed the first episode immensely. The acting, the script, the sound design are all top notch. Have to say I love this Ariadne character, she seems nice.

Moonbase Theta, Out, by D.J. Sylvis - Dystopian futures, corrupt governments, sinister warnings about the moon. Sounds like a typical day in 2022, right? Moonbase Theta, Out was and is ahead of its time in terms of storytelling, narratives, and characters. It's really a who's who in the world of audio drama with "famous" voices popping in and out to voice characters that will make you do the Leo pointing meme at least twice and episode.

WOE.BEGONE, by Dylan Griggs - Part surrealist sci-fi, part existential horror, WOE.BEGONE is a show that makes me want to run away screaming whilst at the same time binging more and more episodes. How deep does this creepy, deadly game go? What is the point of it all? Will Mike just be able to relax and have a nice time? I need to know!!!

And 195, by Guendalina Cilli - I just found out about this audio drama yesterday and I'm already a fan. I'm a runner with a bad sense of direction myself so the basis of the show is very, very familiar to me (aside from getting lost in other dimensions, that's not familiar but you never know in these days).

We Fix Space Junk, by Battle Bird Productions - Dystopian space dramas are a trope for a reason, but We Fix Space Junk manages to avoid the pitfalls and enjoy all the benefits of said trope. It's fresh, fun, and exciting. I've decided it was time for a re-listen to see what things I missed out on in the beginning that are integral parts of the show by the end. I'm already having a blast!

Care & Feeding of Werewolves, by Brenna Anderson-Dowd - What if True Blood were a sitcom, but far better than the sum of those two parts? What if it were funny and informative, silly and meaningful? You'd have Care & Feeding of Werewolves and you'd enjoy every single episode of this weird little show, and I do mean that endearingly. If it weren't weird, it wouldn't be nearly as fun.

[chabby4memes]

Are there really people out there who believe that the only reason to engage with game mechanics is force???? Like, you can't just engage with with the game to enjoy it, but instead need to be held down into it by strict limitations.

Like, If these people played monhun, they would use the greatsword just because they could? Not because they want to, but simply because "I don't need to" not because of how fun the gameplay is, not because of the unique benefits of GS, just because its what the game handed to you.

Then complain that the game feels 'clunky' due to a heavier attack system and the fact that you can't just animation cancel enemies all the time. All the while insisting that the game should force players to use all the weapons, even though the reason you can do whatever in such a way is to promote exploration of each weapon, because to some people, some weapons feel outright unplayable due to how the players likes it, for example I can't use greatsword, at all.

But I could play charge blade, switch axe and dual blades well, and found that bowguns were best for me.

Frankly I tried all those other weapons after LBG, Then switched to HBG for other ranks. The game didn't force me to change, and I chose to experiment because I wanted to engage with the games combat system in a way I enjoy.

Despite the genre discrepancy, ultrakill Is the same, I could do the mayo% (if it wasn't clear this was about UtM) and only kill with the piercer, but I could also engage with other weapons because it switches up gameplay, feeds into the hard&fast gameplay loop, and allows me to move to the next room to continue in, filling up my style meter without even having to think.

The style meter is intrinsic to good gameplay, you can tell because when you play ultrakill as intended, as a guns blazing fight fiesta where you can get away with anything so long as your risk matches reward, where strategy is moreso a concept of ensuring your style meter and damage output doesn't dry up, rather than an end all be all, or again, rather than having a kinda pathetic looking style meter the entire game because you've done nothing but use the first weapon simply because you can.

Saying that the pistol should become obsolete is downright contradictory, because the style of ultrakill wants you to take advantage of any weapon you have and use the versatility of weapon combos on enemies like shotgun+railgun for outright lethal damage. Please, Ultrakill Is such a good game and to hear someone call it broken and poorly made actually peeves me; the game doesn't need heavy resource management to be good because that conflicts with the combat.

Also calling Elden Ring generic is so sad. Other than its fellow souls games, I struggle to really think any other cosmic horror dark grand fantasy worlds that capture the feeling of elden ring, dumber so to complain about the starting area being simple, when that is most likely just to both establish part of the world, and to drop new players into a more conceptually fascinating environment later, when they've got a hang of it, like the scarlet rot. If you don't like that gameplay or genre, that's fine.

It's fine to dislike these games for personal reasons or actual criticisms, which exist, but like, make sure it's not just cannon fodder, ir blatant double standard horseradish.

I mean you wouldn't catch me playing elden ring, even though I love the game, because I'm shit at soulslike, I love dark souls gameplay but I'm just personally ver incompatible and that's alright, all things considered.

[tisiphonewolfe]

Writeblr Intro

Heyo!

I'm Tisiphone - or Tiss, or Tizzy, I don't mind (she/her). I mainly write SFF, but I intend to try my hand at horror and potentially espionage thrillers in the future. I also can't seem to write anything without women being very gay in the middle of it all, so I'm leaning into it.

I follow from @princessw0lf

About me:

I'm a disabled trans lesbian from the UK

What I like seeing in books? Mysteries woven through the plot that resolve satisfyingly. Characters that bounce off each other and grate against each other in interesting ways. Weird romances that don't dominate the plot, but are a key part of it. Great character development.

Favourite books? The Locked Tomb Series by Tamsyn Muir, The Unspoken Name by A.K. Larkwood, Malice by Heather Walter, The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. And a lot of Terry Pratchett.

Fiction I probably won't enjoy? Something where the plot is purely interpersonal drama or romance with nothing interesting happening outside of it. Literary fiction. YA.

Outside of writing? By day I'm a software developer. The rest of my time is spent drawing, playing games both video and tabletop, and playing electric guitar (badly).

DMs/Asks/Tag games? Fire away!

@sam-glade is my pal and you should go check them out too!

With this blog I'm aiming to post writing updates, inspiration, and probably writing-related memes.

About my writing:

At the moment I'm primarily writing high fantasy/epic fantasy, with a view to trying out some more genres later on.

Admittedly a lot of the classic elements of western fantasy are in there, but I've been trying to get back to the mythological roots of creatures like elves, gnomes, and dwarves, and to present them as not being all white and vaguely British.

The world of The Tectomancy Saga is also, like that of my childhood writing hero Sir Terry, an odd shape. There's a reason for that, and we'll get to it eventually.

While my stories are currently third-person multi-pov stories, I intend to experiment on that at some point in the future.

My stories will probably all revolve around two things; a central mystery and a central relationship. I love a plot where you can pick at the smallest words and phrases, theorise about absolutely everything. I want to write stories where people have a thousand ideas about what the truth is, and each one of them knows there's a good chance they could be correct. I also, as a queer trans lady, want to write about sapphic relationships and include many people who are not cis.

My favourite themes to write are anti-authority, people breaking out of systems they've been trapped in for a long time, people being more important than power.

I'm definitely a plantser. I know kind of where I'm going, but let's see where the journey takes us along the way!

Finally, you can expect the tone of my writing to be trying to find that sweet spot between serious and dry humour that makes you groan, with a healthy sprinkling of subtle meme references.

Current projects below the cut

The Tectomancy Saga

On a bowl-shaped world suspended far above swirling blue mists, nine goddesses, witches, or geniuses, blessed their peoples with divine magics, then disappeared. Now, the world is decaying, tensions are rising, and people scramble to control the magics in order to shape the future.

Made with Crown and Claw

WIP Intro

High Fantasy: The classic Princess-in-a-tower-guarded-by-a-dragon story, but we see the machiantions that put her there, and what happens afterwards.

Releine Sholt is hand-picked by the heir to Tectomancy, Princess Almyra Tectus, to be her new bodyguard. The role has one ominous stipulation: nobody can ever speak to the Princess, on the threat of dire punishment.

'There was only one bed' turns out to have horrifying consequences.

Progress: Fourth draft done at 129.5k

Bound by Stone and Blood

High Fantasy: The saga continues from different perspectives, having different adventures, that will eventually conjoin.

Almyra vies for control of her kingdom. Ellimane tracks down two misfits who are being hunted by a rogue automaton. Releine visits hell. A new threat rises in the shadows of Versewelt, the decaying land.

Bitter exes who technically never dated are definitely not thinking about each other.

Progress: First draft underway at 69k

Snippets and Short Stories:

Flash Fiction Friday: On the Edge

Flash Fiction Friday: I Can't Tell

Her New Captain (Alternate Chapter)

Other

Naenia, through Murder

WIP Intro

Naenia, the reaper who is responsible for death through murder, is shellshocked when a murdered homicide detective returns to life before her eyes and promptly asks her out on a date.

Detective Carina Choudhry has an odd - very Goth - new girlfriend, who saved her from the serial killer she was on the trail of.

Progress: Complete at 46k

Fay and the Red Kite (Title pending)

Fay Orrel, a trainee mech pilot, finds that her beaten-up old training machine holds an AI that has replicated its deceased former pilot. She tries to keep the other woman secret from the PMC that owns the mech, who would be certain to wipe the AI's memories, destroying Mina forever.

Progress: Well, I wrote the prologue and some of the first chapter. Being dabbled with!

[blues824]

may i rq obey me bros reaction to an mc whose a special fbi agent in the bau ? tyty

Lucifer

Wasn’t expecting to receive an exchange student that had such an important role at such a young age. Plus, you might hold the key to achieving Lord Diavolo’s dream. In addition to that, you both look awesome in suits.

He would ask you about your job and what a typical work day would look like. When you tell him about some of the criminals you had to evaluate and the more gruesome crime scenes, he genuinely wonders what went wrong while God was creating man.

Once, he took you out on a dinner date and he was impressed by how well you were able to evaluate his psyche. Lucifer is the last person I’d describe as lovesick, but when he found out about your accomplishments and overall competence… he has fallen irreversibly in love.

Mammon

Oh no. Not someone responsible and a borderline therapist! Luci, come pick him up. He’s scared. He doesn’t like how well you are able to read him based on his actions. It’s truly unsettling how you never take a break from analyzing behavioral patterns.

It’s funny whenever he comes running to complain to you about a shift and you’re just standing there like, “you think your job is hard?? You wouldn’t survive 5 seconds in my shoes!” You would often respond with your own experiences, what with all the gory crime scenes and criminals you had to evaluate.

Once, he took you out on a ride in his car and he was amazed at how well you were able to see the toxic relationship between him and his brothers. While you weren’t an actual therapist, you let him know that you would always be willing to lend an ear whenever he needed it.

Leviathan

He would have thought you were so cool. They didn’t have a government organization like the FBI in the Devildom, so everything he knew about it was either from TV or you. For once, he doesn’t freeze up because if the conversation gets dry, he’ll ask about your job.

He’s seen a crap-ton of anime, right? Some of them belong to the horror genre. When you tell him about the horrors of your job, he’s not disgusted. Instead, he’ll slowly wrap his arms around you, asking if you get nightmares because of it. If you say yes, he’d suggest having him sleep in your room.

One day, he invited you to hang out in his room. It was quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. In fact, both of you were watching a soft anime called ‘Orange’. You softly told him that regret was a common reason for committing a crime. You explained that grief manifested in different ways, sometimes destructive. It was intriguing to him.

Satan

He also thinks you're admirable. He’s read about what you do in his murder mystery novels that he enjoys reading so much. He would ask you about the most disturbing cases you had to deal with. You would tell him about a typical day on the job. He was like a sponge whenever you told him anything.

He wants to hear all about your job. The good, the bad, the ugly… all of it. He will often bring books and ask how accurate the story was. It would make for great conversations between the two of you. You have a bunch of anecdotes, and he has two fully functioning ears to listen to you.

One day, he treats you to a dinner date at a new cafe. You both had been reading a new murrder mystery series that recently found its way to your favorite book shop. You both enjoyed getting away from HoL to revel in each other's company. Y’all would talk about what you thought of the book as well as anything else that came to mind.

Asmodeus

If there’s one thing he knows about FBI agents, it’s that they can always pull off a tuxedo like nobody else can. So what does he do? Why, he makes suits for the both of you! Some suits match, others have elements that compliment each other. To him, it’s his way of telling the world that you’re his and he’s yours.

There will be a ton of self-care nights where both rant about anything that comes to mind. Asmo often found himself letting you do most of the talking. He gets to learn more about you by remaining quiet. For example, you are able to analyze patterns in certain crimes, furthering investigations by a significant amount.

Once, Asmo took you out on a shopping date for more fabrics and accessories for outfit ideas you had. On the way there, however, you looked in a nearby alley and saw crime scene tape and a police officer. You had a PTSD flashback and started hyperventilating. Asmo had to talk you through breathing normally and he quickly led you away.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t know much about your profession, but he’s willing to learn! He’s probably seen a few crime shows while snacking, so he might have some sort of clue. As you both make a delicious snack in the kitchen, he’d ask you questions about what you did and why you chose this profession over everything else.

There will be a few nights where he invites you to his room and you don’t really do anything besides eat and talk. Beel is a demon of few words, so he will often let you rant about how your life is adjusting to the Devildom and how you either miss or don’t miss your Human Realm job.

One night, Beel treated you to lunch at a higher-end restaurant. He would continue to ask you about the things you’ve witnessed in your worst cases. You told him about the gruesome crime scene, the unstable criminals you had to evaluate. He didn’t eat dinner that night, nor for any of the other nights following.

Belphegor

And here he thought all humans were weak. Well, physically, you are. But you have to be both mentally and emotionally ready to face what you do for work. He doesn’t know a ton about what you do, but he’s probably like Beel where he’s seen a few crime shows.

Many times, the others have caught you both wrapped up in each other’s arms, sleeping peacefully as though nothing was wrong with the world. However, he knows that you have nightmares. He can sense it even when he’s asleep. He often has to use his powers on you to get you a good night’s rest.

One night, you both were just hanging out in the attic when you told him something very personal. During your time as a BAU FBI agent, you were threatened, taunted, hurt, overwhelmed… but nothing prepared you for that day when Belphie decided to take your life. You told him that you were actually glad that you could join the souls you brought closure to, and that’s when he lost it. He let a few tears shed, whispering apologies left and right.

[divine-donna]

lights! camera! action!

in honor of hotd’s golden globe win, have just this random shitpost of an au for the hotd cast.

aka. movie star au! (i also saw someone edit ewan to be aemond on the red carpet so that also inspired me)

anyways where do you see yourself, or your oc, fitting in this au? i’d love to know!!

ser criston cole

say hello to ser criston! or just cris, as you’ve come to call him. a stuntman making his acting debut in the new drama, house of the dragon. compared to his stoic persona, he is very goofy. laughs a lot and can never do one take. being serious is not his forte which only makes his acting chops a lot more impressive. he also laughs when he’s nervous and he’s constantly nervous around the more experienced people. doing combat scenes with him is super fun and he always makes sure his costars, and even you, are alright. does his own stunts. formerly worked on the game of thrones show (according to rumors at least).

“the princess rhaenyra is brazen and relentless. a spider who, haha. spiders. a spider who strings and sucks her prey dry. hahaha. i’m so sorry guys. can i get some water please?”

daemon targaryen

daemon is an experienced actor with a lot of films under his belt. however, he’s most prominently known to have starred in lots of b movies, particularly of the horror genre. he’s given his characters depth but the critical reception has really shrouded his talent. house of the dragon, then, is proof that he can act. and, most importantly, that he’s a good actor. he acts with professionalism and enjoys spending time with his costars outside of work. he does have a loyal following that are willing to watch anything he is in but also, he’s been single for a long time. dating just isn’t in his mind until he meets you.

“that was a really great shoot today. anyways, (y/n), do you want to join me and the others to grab some food? we’re all quite hungry and want to wish the children goodbye and good luck on future projects. kind of sad they’re leaving.”

rhaenyra targaryen

rhaenyra targaryen is a famed stage actor. outside of theatre and drag, they are not well known. house of the dragon signifies their serious television debut. rhaenyra is queer, using they/she pronouns, and presents masc outside of the show. they bring a unique perspective to their character and are well respected in the theatre and drag scene. they got into performing through drag and was even featured on a reality show for a brief time. they become a queer icon once making their television debut and can’t be any happier with their success.

“are those chocolate covered almonds? can i have one (y/n)?...thanks! say, there’s something i want to try with my character. spare me a minute so i can run it by you?...you’re the best!”

alicent hightower

alicent has quite the filmography to brag about. she’s been an actress since she was a child, thus she has as many films under her belt as daemon despite the latter being much older than her and having more experience. she is especially known from her role on a teen show as the sweet protagonist (who everyone eventually got fed up with after 8 seasons of no character growth). so playing a complex character like alicent lets her show off her acting chops while also metaphorically shedding her image as the good teenage girl. you can find her hanging out with rhaenyra or yourself.

“what made me want to take this role? well, it was a chance to grow, you know. and such a devoted mother, wife, woman, has layers to it. it just goes deeper than what i have done during most of my career. and to bring this woman to life is such a great honor.”

aegon targaryen

aegon targaryen is the leading man with a lot of fans and a role in an ongoing multi-movie franchise. a chris evans, if you will. his most notable role is as a righteous man, someone so morally upstanding. so to play someone like aegon provides him with a challenge. he loves the new material and to finally be something different! he’s also very much like criston, always cracking up during his lines and making jokes. he’s always bringing refreshments to set for everyone and there are nothing but good things said about him.

“oh wow. did you get me a smoothie (y/n)? you didn’t have to, y’know. i don’t mind getting you stuff....oh, you just wanted to? you are very sweet. maybe we can go grab some food after this shoot is done.”

aemond targaryen

the newbie. he’s only acted in soap operas and dramas but he blows up after his debut on house of the dragon. aemond becomes probably one of the most popular actors after his debut. his inexperience makes him nervous and after the takes are done, he’s always apologizing and asking if his costars are okay (like with luke). he’s mostly played sweethearts in his roles, so his character is a new change of pace. sometimes, he does need a pep talk from you because it is very intimidating to be working around such experienced actors and actresses like rhaenyra and alicent!

“i am so sorry if i was too aggressive. are you alright?...okay thank god! i was worried that i had pushed it too far....it was a good take? oh wow! thank you so much for the compliment (y/n)!”

helaena targaryen

the it-girl and a rising new talent, helaena is the hottest new actress. she rose to prominence with rom coms and many people feared she would be categorized as a rom com actress from then on out. however, helaena is not one for formulas! she starred in a tv series that went against her rom com image and a dramatic film that had critics praising her for weeks on end. house of the dragon is one of her many endeavors to expand her craft. she is also on the more famous side compared to some of her other costars and has a large social media following, hailed as a style icon.

“(y/n), you want to take a picture with me on the iron throne?...cool! weirdly enough, this is very comfortable....oh, are you cold? here, you can have my jacket. it gets quite chilly on the sound stage.”

jacaerys velaryon

jace has dipped his toes into acting, mostly in comedies because his comedic timing is amazing. but his primary source of income is as a model and a musician. he’s written a few songs solo and heads a punk band. house of the dragon represents his dramatic debut. and a lot of his fans don’t recognize him at first when he comes on screen until they look at the credits. nevertheless, he brings in new fans for his band and his numbers on social media sky rocket. he is a bit of a goofball like aegon and has a large storage of memes for the groupchats.

“hey (y/n), (y/n). why did the bike fall over? because it’s two tired! hahaha, sorry, sorry. i will stop telling you corny jokes. i know you secretly love them.”

[rabbitechoes]

first week of september!! fall is drawing near!!! there were some pretty cool tracks that dropped this week, two in particular that are on the shortlist for some of my favorites of the year. 2024 is drawing closer to the end, but this continues to shape up to be one of the best years for music in recent memory. In other words, NEW PHIL ELVERUM MOUNT EERIE ALBUM WOOOOOO WOOOOOOOOO YEAH YEA H YEAH YEAH!!!!!!! also feel free to follow me on rate your music and twitter <3

"Made Out of Memory" - Nilüfer Yanya

◇ released: Sept. 2, 2024 ◇ featured on My Method Actor (not yet released) ◇ genres: indietronica, alt-pop

Starting to sound like a broken record, but this new Nilüfer Yanya single is very solid. We're only a few weeks out from My Method Actor, but it's shaping up to be one of the most promising releases of the year. I love the subtlety she implements into these songs. Everything is given just the right amount of attention. The guitars on this track are buried, but crawl to the surface at the most opportune moment. Her vocals are also gorgeous, as are her melodies. Really good cut here, can't wait to dive into the full record.

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"Broom of Wind" | "I Walk" - Mount Eerie

◇ released: Sept. 3, 2024 ◇ featured on Night Palace (not yet released) ◇ genres: singer-songwriter, indie folk, slacker rock, post-rock

4 years after the biographical meditation of Microphones in 2020, the highly prolific singer-songwriter Phil Elverum is returning in November with a new record under the Mount Eerie name. This announcement was accompanied by these two brilliant singles, the brief jaunty "Broom of Wind" and the weird atmospheric "I Walk." As a massive fan of Elverum's work, these songs were exactly what I could've hoped for - especially the latter. Spacey yet organic atmospheric sounds held together very loosely. Everything feels free-flowing. The traditional rules of song-structuring are construed in subtle, yet effective ways. His lyricism, as always, is just amazing. He makes you feel so much, deep in your core, even when he's crooning what seem to be abstractions.

In the press-release for this record, Night Palace is referred to as a spiritual successor to The Glow Pt. 2 - arguably Phil's magnum opus and one of the greatest records of all time - it also states that "These are songs of re-surrendering to a state of wonder and abandoning the wrung-dry skepticism that this hard world can impose." It doesn't seem like a cheap way to get fans re-invested, he has no reason to do that. If you're a fan of Elverum's music, you're most likely locked in for whatever he has coming down the pipeline. This genuinely, like his previous record, feels like treading old ground with more experience this time around in order to reinvigorate the creative process. Anyway, I'll try to save my ramblings for when I can dive into the full record, but this is firmly my new most anticipated album of the year.

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"th1 [evnslower]" - Aphex Twin

◇ released: Sept. 4, 2024 ◇ featured on Selected Ambient Works Volume II Expanded Edition (not yet released) ◇ genres: dark ambient, drone, space ambient

Another track from the Aphex Twin archives has been officially released leading up to the deluxe edition of Selected Ambient Works Volume II. More savvy Richard D. James heads will probably know much more about this track than I, maybe it was leaked through a big Soundcloud dump or found in a trashcan behind his house. Whatever the case, this is pretty great. Very ominous ambient piece that sounds like it would fit on the soundtrack to a horror film set in space. It feels claustrophobic in a way, unlike the previous single "#19" which felt very peaceful and optimistic. "th1 [evnslower]" puts you on edge, makes you feel like there might be something looming just around the corner.

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"Magic I Want U" | "How to Teleport" - Jane Remover

◇ released: Sept. 4, 2024 ◇ genres: glitch pop, alternative r&b, breakbeat

Jane Remover is back again with another set of seemingly standalone tracks. Like the other two tracks that dropped a little bit ago, they're a bit of a departure from her last album - which is honestly a bit refreshing. I enjoyed that record a decent amount, but there's a bite to these songs that's irresistible. The star here is "Magic I Want U" with its hard-hitting production and tight melodies that just sound absolutely exhilarating. "How to Teleport" isn't bad either, it's got a ton of cool sounds. These new Jane Remover tracks are some of my favorites of hers and although these aren't attached to a new project, I really hope she pushes some of these ideas further in the future.

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"We Will Rock You (Megan Thee Stallion Version)" | "Neva Play" - Megan Thee Stallion

◇ released: Sept. 5, 2024 | Sept. 6, 2024 ◇ genres: southern hip hop, trap, pop rap, drift phonk

Big week for Megan Thee Stallion fans it seems! First, with the bizarre collaboration with Queen for a remix of sports stadium staple "We Will Rock You" ... it's fine. A bit gaudy and awkward, but I don't hate it. The next day she released "Neva Play" with RM of BTS, which is a bit better, but not particularly amazing either. I think it's the beat more than anything. I don't want to hear Megan over a phonk beat in all honesty. Neither Megan's or RM's verse stood out to me either. Oh well!

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"For Sure" - Ethel Cain

◇ released: Sept. 5, 2024 ◇ featured on American Football (Covers) (not yet released) ◇ genres: slowcore, dream pop, post-rock

Following Iron and Wine's indie folk reimagining of "Never Meant," Ethel Cain is the next to contribute to the new American Football covers album with her version of "For Sure." I definitely appreciate what she does with this one. The slow-burning, super lush sound just lulls you into a trance all the way until the big climax in the middle. I didn't have high hopes for this covers project - although I'm mostly just butthurt because I thought American Football were teasing NEW music instead of an anniversary celebration of their first LP, but I digress. This is a really great cover and I'm a bit more excited to hear what the rest of this project has in store.

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"Unt" - Pinhead Gunpower

◇ released: Sept. 5, 2024 ◇ featured on Unt (not yet released) ◇ genres: punk rock, pop punk, power pop

Green Day side-project Pinhead Gunpowder are back with their first new song in 16 years. It's a bit of a snoozefest to be honest. Billie Joe Armstrong has settled into his ways as a vocalist and everything he sings has this level of cleanness to it which is a bit unbecoming of a punk record. It sounds a bit rougher than what you would expect from Green Day proper, but it still just feels a bit toothless. Not doing much for me instrumentally either.

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"The Emptiness Machine" - Linkin Park

◇ released: Sept. 5, 2024 ◇ featured on From Zero (not yet released) ◇ genres: alternative rock, alternative metal, post-hardcore

Linkin Park are returning years after the unfortunate passing of former frontman Chester Bennington, but this time with a new vocalist Emily Armstrong - who definitely doesn't have ANY baggage whatsoever! Truth be told, I've never been a big Linkin Park fan and unfortunately that remains to be the case with this new single. It just feels way too drenched in dramatics to the point where it feels a bit sterile to me. Armstrong's verses were fine, albeit a bit generic. Yeah, I just don't think this is for me. To longtime fans of the band, I hope you guys like this!

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"Ego" - Halsey

◇ released: Sept. 6, 2024 ◇ featured on The Great Impersonator (not yet released) ◇ genres: pop rock, alternative rock, pop punk, power pop

Halsey is releasing her new fifth studio album soon, which will feature all of her singles over the past few months as well as this new one "Ego." I don't dislike this song or anything, but I'm not seeing the picture she's painting here. I guess these new songs have been eclectic, but I fail to see how they'll coincide on a full-length project together. This is definitely a departure from the nostalgic alt-rock of "Lonely Is the Muse," instead leaning more into poppier sounds. Her songwriting is very personal and intense across these songs, but I worry that these constant flip-flopping between sounds will obscure that. We shall see.

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"ELEMENTS" - wolfears

◇ released: Sept. 6, 2024 ◇ genres: post-punk, funk, afrobeat

This groovy new single from wolfears is really cool. There's this palpable anxiety to it that amps up the excitement so much, everything is in constant motion. The grooves are prickly, never giving you the opportunity to settle into them. Their vocals sound like they're reciting mantras and chants which adds to the uneasiness. It's a good feeling of unease though. Her musicianship is pretty impeccable on this cut too as she handles every bit of instrumentation here. I could've been fooled into thinking this was the work of a full band. "ELEMENTS" is a really solid track and if you're a fan of either the Talking Heads or Fela Kuti - hopefully you're fans of both - give this a listen!

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"Ruby Rosary" - A$AP Rocky feat. J. Cole

◇ released: Sept. 6, 2024 ◇ featured on DON'T BE DUMB (not yet released) ◇ genres: jazz rap, east coast hip hop, cloud rap

A$AP Rocky has released the third single leading up to his new record DON'T BE DUMB. This is a really good track, I'm loving the jazz rap production a lot. Rocky's verses continue to wow me during this rollout, more than they have in some time. They're not the most impressive, but they're undeniably smooth as hell. He's bringing some confidence into this one. Even J. Cole's verse wasn't that bad, he needed a verse that was at the very least good after "Grippy" and his rough MIGHT DELETE LATER tape. Yeah, I'm loving this. This is shaping up to be a really promising project, hopefully we get a concrete release date in the coming weeks.

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