#ex from hell

[gleafer]

If you’re not on my Patreon, then you won’t know what happens next on this exclusive comic!

Sneak peek: DATE NIGHT

A cooking class? Lucifer?? AN ODDLY-TONED MR. BROWN???

Madness!

Smash the link and join my pigeon flock! Come for the art and comics, stay for the amazing community and daily posts!

Affordable AND fun!

That’s me!

[alvfr]

about me:

My name is Alv or Miss or Miss Alv and I'm a writer from the far, far north (indigenous Sámi). Mechanical engineer, older than 25, happily married, one child, one dog, etc. I write a lot more fanfiction than anything else, but I have some original projects too that I'm always trying to finish. Always eager to talk about my writing (or myself), loves ask and tag games, is trying to get better at interacting with other writers.

links: masterlist | ao3

Requests are open (but will only be written if my brain vibes with it) Some of the stuff I write is 18+ only. If you are a minor, please do not interact 🌸

about my wips:

Nådegåva (The Charism) [Norwegian, YA] Marje Anna is 16 years old and ready to get out of her tiny, isolated shithole of a town in the far north where nothing ever happens. After catching her boyfriend with her best friend at a party, she curses him out in front of everyone. Rumors spread fast and when he ends up in a freak accident, the whole town knows she is responsible. She has The Gift, just like her grandfather who could stop blood and her father who gave his life to the sea.

It does not matter how many times Marje Anna tells people she does not have any kind of gift, capital letter or not. People start avoiding her in public, but ask for her help in secret. Her paranoid and superstitious principal runs for mayor to reinstate the witchcraft laws and now the new policeman wants her to solve an old murder case where her father was the main suspect.

Rot [English, Horror/Fantasy]

A rotten skeleton is freed after centuries chained to a broken throne at the bottom of a toxic lake as part of a prophecy to help the second-born son of a duke find true love. Unfortunately, the skeleton does not even remember who it once was, and they go on an adventure to restore it back to its old self and might bring along the end of days in the process.

The Ex from Hell [English, Romantasy]

In a world much like our own, Harmony is freshly out of prison and painfully sober for the first time in a decade when her family comes to ask her for help. They need to summon a demon and after the old matriarch's passing, Harmony is the only one who can read the Book. Reluctantly, Harmony agrees, but nothing could have prepared her for seeing her ex-husband standing in the portal where the demon was supposed to be.

[alvfr]

The important thing to remember is that I was not trying to summon a demon. The fact that I was not trying to summon a demon while performing a ritual to summon a demon definitely complicated things, but my life was nothing if not complicated. It should not have worked. I had skipped half the so-called essential equipment and preparations listed in the Book, slapped the sigil down in broad, messy strokes using a broken makeup brush, and mumbled most of the incantations under my breath so low I barely heard it myself. It should not have worked.

And yet, the sigil — painted in bright millennial pink leftover from a DIY project — started to glow on the concrete floor. So far along, the ritual pulled out the rest of the incantations from my mouth; I could not have stopped now, even if I tried, while tension built everywhere in the room, including my body. It pushed and pulled in my chest, my throat, my sinuses, my skull, my eyes — growing and growing until I feared my whole head would pop right off my shoulders. It did not. With the anti-climax of a cut trip wire, the dam burst, and the sigil flashed so bright I almost lost my vision and was left to stare blindly at the vaguely humanoid shape appearing in a vortex of smoke and shadows. The smell of burning filled the damp basement, mixing with the sickening odor of mold and rotten wood.

The thing, still concealed in the dark, spoke in a guttural tone, its language sounding as old and dead as the civilization it once stemmed from. Probably asking the standard question about which foolish mortal had dared summon them, yadda yadda yadda. Stars continued to dance before my eyes, and I blinked several times to adjust to the dim light after all the poor LED candles had gone out from the demon’s arrival.

“English, please,” I said and coughed from the thick smog that coiled into my throat. “And can you do something about that smoke before it sets off the carbon monoxide detector?”

To its credit, the smoke cleared in an instant while a way-too-familiar voice said in perfect modern-day English: “You have got to be kidding me.”

And as my eyes adjusted, I wished they had not. For standing in the circle atop the hazardously painted sigil, naked and perfectly sculpted like a mahogany statue, stood none other than my ex-husband.

“Santiago?” I spat, out of breath and unable to put the appropriate amount of venom into his name. “What are you doing here?”

Because it was him. Everything about him precisely as I remembered, apart from his eyes that glowed a dull red, like the reflection of a distant hellfire. Not even the finest shapeshifter or body double could manage such a perfect replica, especially not the expression of pure and utter contempt highlighted by the curl of his lip and the pull of his brows.

“What am I doing here?” His voice, unheard for seven years now, cut its way through my ear canals like every vowel wielded a razor. Determined to carve out the path again after all this time. “I was summoned! An exclusive VIP-can’t-refuse-can’t deny invitation dragging me back to this horror show of a dimension. The real question is, what are you doing here? And where,” he swept his muscular arm along the room with his suspicious glare trailing behind, “is the foolish mortal who dared summon me and will regret it to their dying day?”

“What did you just call me?”

“I called you nothing!”

“Foolish mortal?” I repeated in a mocking deep voice, arms already crossed over my chest and hip cocked to the side. “Why do you talk like some kind of,” the realization slapped into my brain like a ruler over my fingers, taking the question mark out of my mouth as I whispered, “demon.”

Instead of the brutal denial a part of me still hoped for, Santiago’s vivid attention returned to me, and my skin grew prickly and cold. He tilted his head, like a grown hellhound burdened with behavior imprinted as a puppy, a habit always displayed when he was confused. “You summoned me?”

“No!” The word shot out before I could stop it, and I gritted my teeth before amending it. “Well, yes, but not on purpose.”

“You what then? Tripped over the paint bucket, swore in ancient Akkadian, and accidentally performed a summoning ritual?” Santiago took a step forward, stopped, and gave his surroundings another disdainful glance. His lip curled further into what could only be classified as a snarl. “Now, what in the eight blazing hells is this?”

“Nothing.” I bit my teeth together but was helpless at the sound of his impatient snort. “It’s just a circle.”

“A circle? This isn’t a circle, it’s a damned fun fair laser show.”

“It’s a circle, gods be damned! It just happens to be made up of LED strips.” My defense raised immediately at the sight of his disbelieving face, the distant memories all too close in the blink of an eye. “You make do with what you have, all right?”

“Of course. A circle made from whatever trash you happened to have lying around. What are you, some kind of,” his voice turned cold and changed its pitch before his last word, “witch.” He drew his hand over his mouth, each of his fingers ending in sharp black nails I had failed to notice before. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah, oh no. For once, I agree with you. “I barely looked up from where my finger trailed the handwritten lines of the Book. “Now shut up for a second.”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if I accidentally used the Summon-A-Lying-Two-Timing-Scumbag spell instead of the Summon-A-Demon one! Not that they’re mutually exclusive, as demonstrated by your very presence.” I slapped the book shut, erupting a cloud of dust that made me cough. “I can’t believe you never told me you were a frickin’ demon, Santi!”

His voice sounded like a roaring waterfall just before the surface. “Just like you never told me you were a filthy, disgusting witch!”

Witch. Witch witch witch witch witch.

“Because I’m not!” Again, the pressure in my chest made me chomp down on my own lip. “Or I wasn’t. Look, I used to be one, then I quit, and now I’m sort of back, but I don’t really want to be, okay?”

“Glad to see your remarkable eloquence has remained unchanged.” Santiago’s hooded eyes looked heavier than before as if consumed with instant boredom in my presence. The familiarity wreaked havoc on my insides. “And you never cared to mention this during our three years of holy matrimony?”

“There was nothing holy about our marriage,” I snapped back, my knuckles turning white from clutching the Book in my hands. “Apart from the sex. Speaking of, could you use your demonic shenanigans and conjure some clothes?”

His voice smoothed as river water reached the sea, and his lean body tightened further. “Am I distracting you?”

“Yes,” I bit out, knowing myself defenseless from trying to subjugate the truth. For all the hardships our marriage had suffered, his physical appearance had not been part of it. “I honestly thought I’d never have to say this again, but cover up your damned dick, Santi.”

So familiar with the workings of his face, I recognized both when his mouth moved to stretch into a dangerous smile and when it stopped in puzzlement. The way the nostrils of his slightly hooked nose flared, the way his thick eyebrows twitched up — either struggling with the effort of conjuring the loose pants materializing on his lower body or with the effort of fighting it.

“What,” he growled, “in the eight hells is this?”

“I told you. It’s a circle.”

“You trapped me! Spellbound me! Oh, you dirty little sneaky witch, you really are all the same, aren’t you?”

“I sure as hell didn’t have plans to make any kind of pact, if that’s what you mean. And definitely not with you.” I forfeited his attention in favor of the Book, flipping through crinkled pages in fast succession. “Now, can you shut up?”

“What are you looking for now, witch, in that little book of yours?”

“A vanquishing spell. We need to get you out of here.”

A puff of smoke came out his nostrils. “Hmph. You went through all this trouble just to cast me aside again? Without telling me why I’m even here? For what purpose did you summon me?” Even while straining my eyes on the Book, Santiago’s glare sent shivers down my spine. “Which of the tedious reasons can it be? Humans are all the same, after all. My first guess would be money, but you are looking plumper and softer than ever before, so that can’t be it. Sex?” A tantalizing tilt to both his jaw and tone. “Have you caught an itch you can’t scratch yourself these days? The trap blocks your scent; it’s hard to tell. It can’t be power, not when you managed to ensnare me with this circus rendition of a circle. So what does that leave?”

I did not look up — I had found the correct spell, at least I hoped so — but had to answer. “Protection.”

“Protection?” he repeated, all of a sudden so human-like it made my heart ache. “Protection from what?”

Before I could reply, a heavy knocking sounded from the basement door, and a skeleton claw of fear grasped my heart harder than ever that night. “Have you quite finished, girl? Is the demon fully subdued?”

“Not yet, Grandaunt Hester,” I said and winced at the high infliction of my voice. I gave Santi a wide-eyed look, pleading with him to keep quiet until she went away. “Give me a little more time, please, Grandaunt Hester.”

A different voice came from the door now, reedier and harder. “We don’t have much time, child. Hurry.”

“I will.”

Santiago made a motion to speak, but I flapped my hand at him to make him wait until I was sure the old hags had gone back up the stairs. The way his jaw set and his eyes widened as he glared at me told me everything I needed to know, and I bowed my head to escape that look, trying to decipher the Book’s writing instead. Despite my attempts, I caught the way he again surveyed the basement and the stack of boxes along the wall, each marked with a different name.

“We’re in your family home,” he whispered, not a question, saving me the trouble of coming up with an answer. “You hate your family. Would rather poke your eyeballs out than spend another minute in their presence. Or at least that’s what you told me.” Not a question either, did not beget an answer. “Was it a lie? What is going on?”

Damn.

“No, it wasn’t a lie,” I said and avoided any and all of his attempts to look me in the eyes. It was never a lie. Could never be a lie. “It’s complicated, okay? Things have changed. I have changed. For what it’s worth, I wasn’t trying to summon you — or any other demon, for that matter, but I had to at least make half of an attempt so I could tell Grandaunt Hester that I did, and now we need to get you back before they come down here and sees you.”

“Oh, I see. You’re that kind of witch, are you?” Santi’s dull red eyes glinted in the shadows. “No wonder you were always such a bitch. Could not help yourself. I just have one question, disgraced queen of my heart.” I steeled myself for the inevitable, but Santi’s eyes seemed to have caught on something, and he asked: “What is that half-dead succulent doing on my sigil?”

“Book said there had to be a living sacrifice.”

“Traditionally, that would mean a little baby goat or a lamb. Maybe a rooster.”

“Okay, this is the twenty-first century; it’s not like you can just go out to the mall and get yourself a live goat or a frickin’ rooster in the middle of the day. Besides, you know I have allergies.”

“I do know that.” His head tilted as he watched me. “And so you used a succulent. I see no gifts or offerings; this sigil is half a brushstroke away from being ineligible, not to mention in a most gaudish color. These candles run on batteries where half of them have already failed, and you stand there fully clothed when I know for a fact that every last penned summoning ritual begets complete and utter nudity. And yet,” he held up a clawed finger to still my protest about how damned cold it was down here, “it worked. Why?”

“You make do with what you have,” I repeated myself from earlier, as honest an answer as I could make it. “Now shut up. I need to concentrate.” I held the book aloft and started stumbling through the unfamiliar language, feeling the strings of my mind pulling the strings of the universe.

“Are you seriously going to vanquish me?” He sounded dreadfully bored. “Me? Dead rose of my garden, you know me. Let me out of the circle, and we can talk.” The incantations flowed out of my mouth, preventing me from answering his increasingly desperate questions. The shadows swirled, and the sigil flared. “Stop it now, my broken-winged dove. What do you need protection from? Why do you need a demon? Do you need help? I can give you that. Just stop talking and open this circle. Put down the book.” The further my words went, the stronger my voice grew, and the basement filled with the opposite of the pressure from earlier. A vacuum, no less uncomfortable for that. “Put down that book and talk to me, hells be damned!”

Incantation done, I put down the book just as he asked and watched the shadow vortex crawl up Santiago’s legs. “This was awful. Let’s never do it again.”

“You have changed,” Santiago snarled, sounding choked on the smoke expelled from the sigil. “Grown fat and strong, have you? Sober, even?”

“Painfully so. Now go to hell, Santiago.”

All the strings of the universe grew taut and rigid before everything shattered with the same anti-climatic pop from before. Only the sigil, painted in my favorite color, and the forlorn LED strips remained in the basement. I closed the book and braced myself to face my Grandaunt, Hester, planning to give her nothing but the truth.

Not the whole truth, but nothing but the truth.

It’s a bit awkward that you managed to actually summon a demon; almost as awkward as that demon being your ex spouse.

[antiwhores]

Bakugou seems to have an entitlement to you.

Even though you verbally express how much you hate his guts, he still tells other people that you’re his. It pisses you off more than anything.

He’s been like this since middle school. He bullied you but when someone else tried to do the same he’d loose his shit. He would corner you and dump out your entire book bag. Then you’d have to scramble to pick up the items on the floor. He would even kick some stuff away as you reached for it. Your teeth clenched at his laughter from your frustration because apparently knowing you couldn’t do anything about the treatment was so fucking hilarious to him.

That wasn’t even the worst thing you’d have to deal with from him. Even so, he’d still find a way to boast to everyone that you were his. He’d even walk you home, kicking stones in your path the entire time.

The bullying got slightly better in high school but the entitlement got worse.

He wasn’t insufferable with his treatment anymore but by then you’d hated him too much to care. He would purposely piss you off in the most casual ways. He wasn’t bullying you, he was just annoying you. It’s as if he needed you to remember of his existence.

He’d stand too close, stare relentlessly, use your stuff without asking, sit next to you uninvited, shoulder check you in the hallway, trip you, etc. It was such light treatment that you sounded absolutely crazy explaining how much you hated him for it.

You were talking to Mina about it one day and she wasn’t as understanding as you hoped.

“Wait… you think Bakugou is tormenting you because he’s showing interest in you?”

You sighed heavily,

“No, he’s not showing interest in me. Well, he’s always had interest in me… but the only thing he’s interested in is making my life terrible!”

She laughed,

“Maybe he just wants you to give him a chance. You know, he is telling everyone that you’re his wife.”

You spat out your water at that. Somehow you upgraded from girlfriend to fucking WIFE? He was surely trying to ruin your chances at teen romance just because of this stupid unwarranted grudge. You couldn’t let this happen!

You let it happen. You find yourself now, twenty years old, looking back at school with frustration. You never got a boyfriend (At least not one that you agreed to have). You hadn’t even had your first kiss! Even worse, you were still a virgin! Even worse x3, you still saw Bakugou way too often.

Somehow, whenever you were on patrol, he’d pop up. He was aggravating with his words as he followed you down the street. Your speed walking could never live up to his strides. He caught up to you easily, no matter how fast you paced.

“Why were you talking to that creep at the donut shop?”

It was so ridiculous of a question that you couldn’t hold back from answering.

“Because I wanted some fucking donuts. Also, he’s not a creep.”

Bakugou scoffed,

“I saw how he looked at you while he made those creme filled donuts. He was probably thinking about how he wanted to creme stuff my girlfriend too-“

Your face heated as you cut his vulgar comment off.

“If anything, you’re the creep for even insinuating that he was considering that! Also, I’m still not your girlfriend!”

He gave an annoyed sigh,

“When will you stop saying that? ‘I’m not your girlfriend’. We’ve been over this since middle school. You’re also my wife.”

You were too tired for this. You had hardly any sleep last night because of the mountain of reports you procrastinated and you haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. You only had an hour left of your shift before you could go home and power off in your bed. You hoped that you could even drive in this condition.

“Stop following me. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Watch your step dumb-“

When did you even get on the pavement? And why were you in an alley? Your eyes struggled to stay open as you were dragged up from the concrete.

“What the fuck? When’s the last time you slept?”

You didn’t even have the energy to argue with him. It felt good to lean against him after dragging your feet all day.

“I dunno.”

Everything went blank after that. Now you’ve found yourself in an unknown bed, in the middle of the night. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life, whether its from the comfortable mattress or the strong arms wrapped around you.

Wait… arms?

You spring up at the realization that you have no idea where you are. You quickly look around to find exits but it’s too dark.

“Fucking relax, its just me.”

Bakugou’s voice, and you just now realize, his smell too. Bakugou grabs you before you can fully jump out of the bed.

“Let go of me!”

“You can whine about this in the morning. I’m tired and I know you’re tired too. Sleep.”

He cradles you in his arms so securely that theres no chance of you getting out. Your panic switches to fatigue at his body heat. The way he begins to play with your hair and the sound of him breathing have you surrendering faster than you’d care to admit. Your eyes flutter shut against Bakugou’s chest.

Maybe you can be your bully’s girlfriend just for tonight.

[undead-knick-knack]

A visual representation of what Suzy Greene experienced with that sending from Jester

[alvfr]

This is from my wip with working title Ex from Hell:

“You make do with what you have,” I repeated myself from earlier, as honest an answer as I could make it. “Now shut up, I need to concentrate.” I held the book aloft and started stumbling through the unfamiliar language, feeling the strings of my mind pulling the strings of the universe.

“Are you seriously going to vanquish me?” He sounded dreadfully bored. “Me? Dead rose of my garden, you know me. Let me out of the circle and we can talk.”

The incantations flowed out my mouth, preventing me from answering his increasingly desperate questions.

Share an excerpt that includes the words "space" or "universe."

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

Click here for more “share an excerpt” tips.

[deservedgrace]

I logically understand what people are getting at when they say stuff along the lines of "christianity is fine when it's love based and not fear based!" but... 99% of churches will self identify as being love based regardless the actual doctrine they're preaching.

And certain doctrine are fear based doctrine no matter how you dress it up. Hell (especially eternal conscious torment) as a concept is fear based. It doesn't matter if you scream about brimstone and hellfire for hours or if you gently preach about how lucky we are to be loved enough to be saved from that fate (if we only give up our entire lives). "Love me or burn for all eternity" is coercion. And coercion is not love.

"Fear based" churches genuinely believe the most loving thing to do is to make sure people are aware of what's at stake. It's a parent using corporal punishment and saying "I'm only doing this because I love you", despite study after study indicating that any "benefit" of changed behavior comes with long-lasting harm... because it's abuse. It's not a metric that will actually promote any kind of meaningful change because of how prevalent the belief of "the ends justify the means" is in christianity.

[zivazivc]

drew this when we had a few of those rainy foggy autumn days in a row, which you just wanna spend inside, being cozy and doing nothing

[marginofthought]

Also Ruby's and Dean's first real encounter in S4E04 is straight up jealous ex-boyfriend meet new boyfriend

[khaoala]

❝I'm being led on by an oblivious straight girl.❞

KATO SHIHO as AYAKA and MORI KANNA as HIROKO episode 1 of AYAKA IS IN LOVE WITH HIROKO

[alvfr]

I was wondering ( as long as your ok with it ) if you have any headcannons about any of your OC’s from any of your projects that you would be willing to share !

So, apparently, when they're your own OCs, it's not really headcanons anymore, it's just... canon hahah. Or facts, maybe. But yeah, I have lots of those about my OCs. Not sure if you meant fanfics or original wips, but I got both so...

Harmony Baines (Ex from Hell)

hates smoking, hates menthol, smokes menthol cigarettes to punish herself

thinks of herself as an outcast and does not recognize her privilege the slightest

dislikes pigeons (thinks of them as flying rats basically)

Kieran Montgomery (Rot)

lost a fight to his older sister when they were eight and ten years old and has never gotten over it

surprisingly good at needlework

has a motto of trying everything once, rarely does

Marje Anna (Nådegåva)

forces herself to drink beer to look cool

really good at math but never does homework

greatest ambition in life is to get a job where she can wear a business suit

Joe Delgado (The Skeptic)

straightened her hair religiously to the extent where it became really damaged before she went to juvie (where she shaved it off)

secretly a huge J-Lo fan (and was devastated when she learned J-Lo doesn't really sing in any of her own songs)

loves to sing, horrible at it

did most of her partying before she was 18, was really over it by then

Jamie Henderson (Just like Spiderman)

used to be really close to her dad before he moved, but has not had time to process her parents divorce because of all the stuff going on

has a secret storage of house paint in case she needs to cover up damages after her experiments

she and her cousins broke a couch during their fighting when they were in middle-school, fixed it to the best of their abilities, but was busted when their plump great-aunts sat down and consequently snapped the couch in half

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I will make your shitty ex who groomed you and who you thought you blocked randomly text you asking if you want to call at 8 O CLOCK IN THE MORNING

[baeshijima]

im gonna throw up.

[ohshinytrinketsmine]

My Ex-Morning (Trailer)

[cheaploafs]

no fights are ever won without sacrifice

[lynxalon]

i've seen a fair bit of... pessimism about dorym lately, esp with the ep107, for example wondering if dorian's opposing views on the gods making orym fall out of love, and i have to say. i very highly doubt it, ur fr talking about the man who has held on to will for so long, holding onto will's family and affectionately calling this *his* family too because that didn't stop when will died. i dont think falling out of love is an option or even a thought to orym.

that said, we know that orym has contingencies for if anyone in bells hells crosses the line into being a version of themselves they would despise, for anyone who jeopardizes their mission. his mission. i think, for the first time since knowing dorian, orym finally has a contingency for him. the longer dorian is back, the more orym sees how scarred he is by what's happened (understandable so) and knows that dorian is with bells hells all the way. but if he isn't...