#mags writes

[galaxysgal]

𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing: lip gallagher x fem!reader

summary: just lip being a cute bf + debbie and ian being little shits

warnings: lowercase on purpose. poorly written tbh. swearing but y’all know how it is. heavily unedited. gen said yolo so i’m posting

A/N: i’ve been on hiatus for god knows how long but my roommate and i started watching shameless and i can’t get this mfer out of my head. things w school and life are hard rn so i just wrote this comfy cozy little thing in my notes app. yolo asf.

wordcount: probably like 500 or less idk i wrote it in my notes app at 1am

— — — — — — — — — — —

you’re nestled in lip’s arms, high up on his rickety top bunk. somewhere between finishing your nails and kissing until you could barely breathe, you had fallen asleep right against his chest.

you stirred now, your cozy world interrupted a squeaky little voice. “are you in love with her?” debbie questions.

lip shushes his sister, “be quiet, she’s sleeping.”

you were wide awake now, but much too comfortable to move and make that little fact known. plus, you wanted to hear his answer.

“i asked you a question dummy. are you in love with her?”

lip stutters, “i-i dunno. i really like her, okay?”

you’re satisfied with that answer. “in love” was a little too much too quick. but “really like” was something that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“what d’ya like about her?” ian presses.

you can practically hear the gears turning in lip’s head as his siblings impatiently await a response.

“she’s- i dunno, she’s pretty?” lip replies. you hold back a scowl, annoyed at him for not having a better answer.

“yeah, great rack,” debbie comments.

“jesus, deb!” lip’s head falls back in frustration, one hand coming to cradle your head as not to wake you with the sudden motion.

“cut the shit lip,” ian interrupts. “tell us what you really think.”

you hold your breath as you wait for his response. his lips brush your hairline before he sighs. “she’s sweet, yeah? real kind.”

“a real woman of the people,” ian snorts, “princess diana type.” then “ow!” as you hear debbie shove him.

“and- and she’s real smart, too,” lip continues. “really, really fuckin’ smart. an’ she works hard. she just tires herself out sometimes.”

he strokes your hair gently, pressing a few more fleeting kisses to your forehead.

“you’re so whipped.”

you hear debbie shove her brother again, and this time ian fights back, the two making a ruckus as they push each other back and forth.

“come on guys, out. now.” lip orders his siblings around with that same stern voice you’ve heard plenty of times before.

debbie pouts. “but-“

“no buts. go on, she’s fuckin’ sleepin’ in here an’ you’re gonna wake her up. fuck off.”

“we were just-“

“fuck. off.”

“jesus,” you can practically hear ian roll his eyes. “alright, alright. we’re going.”

debbie yells for fiona as the two shuffle out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind them.

you smirk to yourself as lip groans above you, showing your cards. “you’re awake?”

you peer up at him through your lashes, a smirk planted on your lips that he’s just dying to kiss off. “can’t believe your little sister said i have a great rack,” you whisper.

lip laughs, loud and genuine. “yeah, she’s been stuffing fi’s old training bras. growin’ up an’ shit. i don’t like it.”

you’re quiet for a moment, admiring him. you know how important those kids are to him. he’d do just about anything for them, including the minor crimes you find him tangled up in on a weekly basis. he loves them like they’re his own kids, which honestly they kind of are. they may shove each other around, curse each other out, yell and scream at the top of their lungs, but at the end of the day lip has been more of a father to his siblings than frank ever was.

“you really meant all that?” you ask.

lip looks down at you, his blue eyes soft in the dim light. “yeah. yeah, i did. meant every word.”

you smile, leaning up to place a solid kiss on his lips. “for what it’s worth,” you murmur, “i really like you too.”

[justmaghookit]

Contractual Obligations

Raphael/OC

SFW

AN: Did you know that in the case of devils one of their almost "signature" abilities is they can summon other devils into combat. I just think that's neat. Takes place in an au where my oc Belladonna has been a devil under Fierna for many years, and an on-again off-again lover of Raphael's

---

The House of Hope was under lockdown. All its entrances and exits were watched over by goat-headed devils who snarled and snorted at any who dared try to get in and take advantage of its Master's absence. Not that there was much worth taking left, the greatest of its treasures had been plundered, the best of its servants slaughtered.

And Hope?

Belladonna had cut her throat himself when he'd arrived in the foyer and seen the scene unfolding. Raphael had called him, summoned him, he'd never done that before. There was a clause in their business deal that allowed them to call upon each other in troubled times, neither of them would ever use it if they could help it, it was embarrassing, a show of weakness, a blow to pride.

This time though, it seemed Raphael's sense of self preservation won against his ego. He had called and Belladonna had been contract bound to answer.

Raphael's triumph had become Raphael's tragedy. Those ithilid infested adventures had smashed through his House with all the grace of a cannon ball and had the cambion cornered. Even his ascended form unleashed upon them had not slowed them down. He was beaten, bloody, leaking hellfire from gashes in his body and drooling from his maw like a rabid dog. He roared and shrieked and lashed at them but to no avail.

Raphael had been losing.

Belladonna had slit Hope's throat open with his claws, her gurgled death peals caught the attention of the adventurers. Belladonna had had just enough time to misty step across the foyer and grab Raphael's armored forearm and teleport them both away. The cambion had fought against the spell for a moment, refusing to leave his House before the fight drained out of him and he let the younger devil spirit him away.

Raphael now lays sprawled out and unconscious in Belladonna's own baths, taking up nearly half of the space with his monstrous form. That he hadn't turned back even after the worst of his injuries had been dealt with was a sign of just how close to death he had been. There was no afterlife for devils, only oblivion, that the man had risked it for his stupid plot and that stupid crown. He couldn't think about it for long or he'd be furious at a half dead man. He hopes those damned adventurers blow themselves up with it.

He sits with Raphael when he can, pulls his three faced head into his lap and strokes his fingers across the lattice of flesh and bone. The older fiend's internal fire did not roar and it was only thanks to the faint rasping of his breath he knew he was alive. With the amount of damage he had taken, not just to his body but to the house that was near an extension of him, it could take him decades to wake. He hoped it didn't take that long, he could only keep Raphael's affairs running for so long before Avernus came knocking and deemed him unfit for his position.

Belladonna did not want to deal with the fallout of that. Better to expedite the healing process and hope he'd only be out for a few weeks.

He tilts Raphael's head in his lap, pries open his maw and cuts into his own forearm with his claws. He lets his blood drip into the other fiends mouth and pool on his tongue, watches as he swallows unconsciously, it was progress. The past few days he'd had to force feed him the power that flowed through his veins. Very few devils would ever go to the trouble to do something like this willingly, nurse another devil back to health. Belladonna would have been better off letting him die and absorbing the other fiends parts of their business deal for himself. But it was Raphael and he was…

Well he was Raphael.

So far it was a good enough answer for his own mind, but he's sure once the other devil was up and about and questioning him he'd need to figure out a better one.

-

Raphael wakes on the third day of the third week, his eyes shoot open as Belladonna cuts into his own arm and the massive fiend has him pinned beneath his claws in seconds. Raphael’s arms shake with the effort of keeping his body up, his fire sputters and sparks and he pants wetly over the slight devil's face. He doesn't seem to know what to do now that he has him. Belladonna reaches for his clawed hand with the arm not pinned and pets over the protruding scales.

“Release me Raphael, then I'll give you what you want.” He orders. The other devil fights himself over it, conflict racing through animal eyes as he stares down at the prey he did not have the strength to kill. He releases him eventually, stumbling to the side with a rolling snarl. It does not intimidate Belladonna, not when the great beast's legs buckle and he crashes to the tiled floor. 

“Poor thing.” Bella coos at him and kneels at his head, offers him his bloodied arm and sighs with pleasure as he opens his mouth and lets his tongue slide out to lap at the blood. He lets the cambion draw his arm into his mouth, he doesn't even bat an eye as his jaws snap shut and his teeth tear through flesh and crush bone. Belladonna wraps his free hand around Raphael's boney neck and rests his head atop Raphael’s own. An arm is an easy fix, worth the loss to see Raphael’s fire flare steady and strong.

-

As much as he gets a perverse thrill from feeding Raphael parts of himself, infecting his very being with his presence, he cannot do it forever. He cannot afford to weaken himself to the point the cambion could overpower him. As much as it would be a fitting end to his own miserable existence to let Raphael devour him, he has too many plans in process to let them all fail. Fierna kept him busy enough to keep the ennui at bay.

He also cannot afford to babysit Raphael for much longer. The older fiend was still in no state to attend his own affairs, half feral as he was and making a nuisance of himself in Belladonna’s private chambers. Many of Raphael’s indebted souls had escaped in the aftermath of the battle in his house and while he has bullied many of the fiends lesser servants into chasing them down, those old wrung out conquests would not be as filling as something new.

Bella could hand him something from his own stocks but with the way infernal contracts worked it wouldn’t be the same. No it had to be a soul from a deal Raphael had struck himself if it was to make any difference. In the meantime he could purchase bulk grubs from the soultrade, though he’s sure the man would turn up his nose at fodder like that, he also knows Raphael does not have much of a choice in the matter.

He hears the click-clack of claws and scrape of his tail on the tiled floors of his bathing chambers, the fiend pacing back and forth, his steps uneven as his left leg still struggles to support him. Belladonna sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. If Haarlep was still here he’d know which contracts to point him to, unfortunately the incubus had met his end to the same adventurers that had nearly destroyed Raphael. If he thinks too long about their mangled corpse he’s sure he’ll throw up from distress.

He had liked Haarlep, they had been friends. Or as close to friends as fiends could get.

There was no use dwelling in what was. Devils did not deal with the past, they toyed with the present and planned for the future. In the present he fixes Raphael and he plans to obliterate those adventurers in the future.

-

Raphael manages to speak on the fourth week, his voice a hissing gurgle from somewhere in his animal throat.

“Why?” Raphael asks him, he lounges half in the revitalizing waters of Belladonna’s bath, trying to look noble but coming off more like a gangly lizard, his breath rattles in his ribs and hellfire flickers weakly down his spine.

“Why what?” He counters, his arms hooked over the edge of the bathing pool where the water was deepest, letting himself half float there. Raphael slams his tail into the water and the younger devil sputters and shakes his head as he’s splashed.

“Do not play Bella.” He wheezes, too large teeth snapping in the air, a growl rumbling in his chest.

He sighs and tips his head back against the edge of the bath, tries to ignore the other fiend but knows it's not possible. He’d brought him here after all. He drops his hooves in the water and stands, walks across to where Raphael lays, the cambion watches him warily as he reaches out to cup under his jaw, thumb rubbing over a protruding tusk.

“What do you want me to say? That I did it for the sake of our ”business”? That it was on a whim? That it was to have you in my debt? You know why Raphael, don’t pretend you don’t.” Belladonna answers.

I love you, I love you, I hate you, you cannot die on me, only I get to kill you, you’re part of the reason I’m like this, I hate you, I love you, you are the ruin of me, I will ruin you, I love you.

“You are a fool.” Raphael growls, he manages to curl a massive clawed hand around his waist, although he lacks the strength to restrain him there. Belladonna finds he has no reason to wiggle free.

“No more a fool than you are, my prince without a crown.” He hums to him, tipping his head forward to press his forehead to Raphael’s. The fiend’s eyes burn, filled with fury and humiliation in equal measure and his claws prickle against his skin, threatening damage he does not have the strength to inflict.

“Do not sulk Raphael, it’s unbecoming of you. Rest, heal, grow stronger for your failures. We’ll punish those adventurers together.” Belladonna promises him, pressing his lips to the center of his twisted face.

Raphael heaves a great breath. “Together then.”

[spiral-man]

There is some so insanely heartbreaking to me about Jonathan Sims and the way the statements were recorded. They were all originally handwritten which is such a very human thing, using your own flesh and blood write something down, just the amount of effort and emotion that goes into that. And then Jon had to digitize them using a tape recorder, definitely a lot less human as it’s now batteries and tape but still human enough since it’s using his voice. And now he’s fully inhuman, robotic, stuck in a computer, where there used to be blood and skin and bone there is now plastic and wires and a screen.

I’m currently studying funeral services and in my embalming textbook it talks about how one woman phrased it like “a dead body is an object, but it is an object unlike any other object, cannot be like any other object, because this object used to be alive” and I really like that, it feels comforting, it feels human. Jon doesn’t get this though, he was terrified of being inhuman and he doesn’t even get to be human in this “somewhere else” he doesn’t get to be an object that used to be alive, he is just an object, like a pencil that wrote down the original statements, or the tape recorder that used to record them, and now the computer.

[furious-fish]

jon when annabelle cane told him that nobody is making him want to forcibly compel statements out of innocent people and that all his actions are his own

[ID: A tweet edited to be by jon sims @/lucipur which says "Finally caught the dipshit that's been ruining my life." Attached is fanart of Jon Sims from The Magnus Archives, shown in a mirror and angrily pointing at his reflection. He's holding a cassette recorder like a phone. End ID]

thank you @princess-of-purple-prose for the ID

[witchinatree]

who up thinking about they "why is it so easy for you to imagine losing me?" vs "i deserve to lose you, the pain caused by losing you will never outweigh all the bad i have done. it will hurt me forever but it is what i have earned." jonmartin dynamics

[opheliaweeps]

martin k blackwood u will forever be famous

(from mag 197: connected)

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

it’s past midnight and i need to sleep but more importantly 

I need to talk about Mags Flanagan from the Hunger Games

Listen. Listen. She might be a minor character who dies halfway through the book she arrives in. But her story is fucking fascinating. 

First of all, since she’s 80 years old during the 75th Annual Hunger Games, she would have been 5 when they started. That means that she’s the only victor we know of that’s guaranteed to have memories of the beginning of the games, not to mention the rebellion itself.

Second, there’s a promotional poster that has a photo of her Victory Tour and the Implications it accidentally has are staggering

her expression and the fact that they dressed her in a military uniform with medals is captivating in its own right but. She’s the victor of the 11th Hunger Games. That doesn’t sound like a big deal but it is.

The 10th Games, featured in The Ballad Of Songbirds and Snakes, took place in a literal arena. They were the first Games to feature sponsorships and betting, which meant they were the first Games where a tribute’s ability to play to the camera mattered. Lucy Gray, their victor, did not have a victory tour.

Mags Flanagan having the 11th games means that she was the first tribute to know that winning over the audience was a factor from the minute she was Reaped. She was the first tribute with a Victory Tour. It’s likely they she also may have been the first tribute to fight in an arena of the kind that’s shown in the actual Hunger Games trilogy.

So she goes from a witness to the fall of the rebellion and the Capitol’s new horror, to a record-breaking and possibly crowd-favorite Victor. That’s already a lot and we’re only 20% through her life.

She then went on to be a seasoned mentor for Four, possibly shaping it into a Career District. She played the Capitol’s games, while eventually becoming a rebel conspirator.

Speaking of the rebellion-Her district’s victors were far more onboard with fighting against the Capitol than any other Career District. If not for Lyme from District Two (shoutout to Lyme from District Two), Four’s victors would be the only career district victors that actively plotted against the Capitol. Why? When did this start? What was Mags’ hand in it?

I have a million questions about her. Mags Flanagan appreciation please

[ministarfruit]

I also did mock CGs of them for fun!!

(doppelgänger magni and vesper concepts)

[mortal-kingss]

just a sketch but be on the lookout 🕷️

update: they have been rendered… mwahahahhaah

[librarycards]

hello! i apologize in advance this is probably something that you get asked a lot. but do you have any recs on literary magazines to submit to? im a trans poet, ive been writing for over a decade but never shared anything and ive been wanting to try to send my stuff to get it published somewhere. obv ive been google searching but theres so many big and small publications and i was wondering if you have ones you like especially and/or tips on how to choose a magazine/journal to submit to. thanks a lot! <3

no worries, thank you for reaching out!! i've been publishing for like 8 years + an editor for almost 4, so i always appreciate the opportunity to help people new to the world find ethical publications that will treat their work with the care it deserves.

first and foremost: there are going to be pubs out there that are awesome and i don't know about. you may be the one to discover them for yourself! one aid in finding the best mag for your work is the wonderful, writer-created chillsubs. it's a fantastic platform that keeps a huge list of mags and presses and their relevant stats, and lets you create an account and bookmark those you're interested in. everyone i know uses them, and it's very worth it given the sheer volume of mags out there.

i also have some recs of my own, ofc. i'm going to list them below. if they pay (which i prioritize) I'll mark them with a $. some are trans/queer focused and some aren't, but all are pubs i've either edited and/or published with and can confirm their ethics + respect for writers.

manywor(l)ds - my mag! i'm co-founder and eic. break genre _ shapeshift with us. ($)

Sinister Wisdom - old, well-regarded lesbian+ lit mag, now open to everyone who is/loves a dyke. I'm guest-editing an issue on Madness with them, now open for submissions!

fifth wheel press - run by a beloved friend and comrade of mine. i've published here. excellent transparency, care, great for first-timers. ($).

kith books - headed by trans literary icon kat blair. a mag/press/community centered around bodymind non-conformity and noncompliance.

Honey Literary - QTPOC-centered, unabashedly pop-culture + social justice oriented. the vibes are simply immaculate.

Whale Road Review - not queer/trans focused, more oriented toward....'grown up' poetry/prose/pedagogy papers. Katie Manning (eic) is a fucking gem.

Graphic Violence Lit - just had my first experience publishing with them, and their care + consideration for the whole writer is amazing. they publish boundary-pushing work.

beestung - one of the brainchildren of Sarah Clark. nb/gq/2s SFF. I just edited a few guest issues w them and have published with them. amazing work. ($)

A Velvet Giant - genrequeer work. the editors are experienced, enthusiastic, and amazing at promoting writers long after publication. it's a family! ($)

Ethel Zine + Press - handmade with love by Sara Lefsyk (as you can see, trans/nonbinary/2s sarahs dominate indie publishing, as well we should :3). Sara is a sensitive and care-full editor and bookmaker whose every publication is a work of art.

Protean - pro- as in proletariat. awesome left mag with a mix of politics and culture and everything in between. they take reprints! ($)

Mudroom - publish your work along with a picture of your mudroom/shoe rack. very responsive editors who will hype you tf up. ($)

The Institutionalized Review - for psych survivors. the editors concreteness of vision and dedication to their community know no bounds.

Just Femme + Dandy - queer and fashion-focused! led by the inimitable Addie Tsai. They pay *handsomely*. ($)

In addition, there are also some "big" mags I have had excellent experiences publishing with and wanted to shout out. These are harder for a beginner to break into, but worth keeping on your radar + have been fantastic to me as a writer.

Electric Lit

Split Lip Magazine

The Offing

Nat. Brut

Santa Fe Writers' Project

Bodega

New Orleans Review

Augur Magazine

I hope this is helpful to you + others! the literary world is ever-changing and this is just a snapshot. Hopefully you find some that you like!

[p-clodius-pulcher]

Lent some of my books to an uni acquaintance recently and he flipped through them and remarked with horror that I had written and highlighted them. So here’s the question:

[galaxysgal]

Lip Gallagher would fuck his girl so good after coming home from college and then be all domesticy

i fucking agree !! heres a little blurb for you <33 nsfw 18+. rough lip, unprotected p in v, praise, aftercare, domesticity

it's been so long since you've seen lip. five weeks, three days, and eleven hours. but who's counting anyway? it doesn't matter how long its been, or how much you missed him, how much you thought of him when he was away at school. he was here now. that was what mattered.

his hands and lips have been all over you since the moment he stepped off the L. you're alone in his room now, bent over his desk and crying from it. tears leak down your cheeks as he grips your now-messy ponytail in one hand.

"good fucking girl," he growls in your ear, thrusting sharper so that your hips are banging repeatedly against the desk. you whimper and press your ass back into him, you try to speak but all that comes out is a garbled moan of his name. he smiles at this, sharp and wicked as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass. "o-oh shit- missed this, jesus."

you manage to pant out, "fuck! missed it so much," before you're clenching around him and arching your back in a white-hot wave of pleasure.

lip coos in your ear, "so fuckin' tight f'me. tha's my girl." his hips speed up and his thrusts become erratic, his teeth biting down softly on your ear as he comes inside you.

you let out an exhausted whine and crumple into the desk, feeling his chest press against your back. he pulls out with a soft hiss, fingers trailing patterns over the expanse of your back as his lips map a trail of kisses across your nape. he really had missed you.

"lemme get ya some clean clothes," he murmurs, standing and cleaning himself up with a spare tee before searching his drawers for something of yours. he finds a loose tank top of his and a comfy little pair of shorts for you, cleaning you up with gentle hands and helping you to stand as he dressed you.

you smile warmly and lean yourself against lip's chest. his heartbeat is soft and quick under your ear, a stark contrast to how soft and sated you feel. his lips kiss your hairline with gentle fervor, smattering small pecks to whatever he can reach. "missed you," you murmur, to which he laughs softly.

"missed ya too, sweetheart." he replies, pulling away and finding a cozy sweater to wrap you in. "ian an' mickey are downstairs, an' i'm fuckin' hungry. c'mon," he tells you with a grin. he locks his fingers in yours and pulls you down the stairs, a sweet giggle floating effortlessly from your lips. he's here. he's home.

mickey wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, and lip swats his head, grabbing two beers from the fridge and tossing one in mickey's direction. lip hands the other beer to you and grabs the pack of cigs on the counter. he lights it from the stove burner as you crack your beer and grab a pan, all between pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"quesadilla?' you ask, holding up tortillas, cheese, and a bag of peppers. you watch lip's face break into a wide grin, reaching out and grabbing your waist to pull you into his side. he lands a kiss on your lips, his presence so warm all around you.

"yeah, babe. missed your cookin'" he murmurs, resting his cheek against your own for one quick, sweet moment. then, of course, the aura of peace is shattered when mickey speaks up.

"yeah sweets, lip can't cook for shit!"

lip moves to the doorway to bicker with mickey in the living room, and you can't help but laugh at their antics. they're annoying, but you love them to death. regardless of it's flaws, you wouldn't trade the current moment for anything in the world.

end.

[justmaghookit]

Business Partners

Raphael/OC

SFW

A/N: A continuation of Contractual Obligations

Raphael’s senses were flooded with Belladonna, his scent, his voice, the taste of him on his tongue. His presence pressed in on him from all directions, smothering him. He wonders how deeply into his psyche Bella had pressed, how thoroughly he’d ingrained himself.

He’d always done his best to spend as little prolonged time in the other devils home as possible. Belladonna was a Fiernic devil, directly descended from the Archduchess herself and he had become nearly as infamous as her in his ability to manipulate other fiends, even when he’d been mortal he had been terribly good at worming his way under a devil's skin.

Bella as a devil himself was far more dangerous, his scent alone could lull someone into a false sense of security. Raphael had never felt more ill-at-ease due to a sense of comfort than he did after spending too many days in the other devil's company and right now he had little choice but to stay in his home while his body recovered from the damage it had suffered.

The humiliation hurts worse than the pain, the indignation that he suffered at the hands of those damned adventurers. His house fallen to disarray, most of his servants dead or scattered to the wind, his most valued treasures plundered. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been sequestered in Belladonna’s house, the Crown was likely long gone by now and that was the most painful part of all.

The second largest problem he currently faced was that he was unable to shed his current form. As fearsome, imperious and noble as his Ascended Form may be, it was somewhat inconvenient for regular business, it was difficult to charm prospective marks when they cowered in fear and a devil who could not exert control over himself was setting himself up for ridicule among his peers.

Belladonna could not hold Avernus’s court off for long, sooner or later one of Zariel’s minions would come looking to assess his worthiness to continue to run his business out of The First. If he was unable to regain complete control of his faculties by that time not only would it bring even more humiliation he would likely lose permission to run his House in Avernus, they would find him incompetent, repossess whatever was left in his house as Tax and then laugh him off the layer. To slink back to Cania after all these centuries was the last thing he desired.

He lounges across Belladonna’s bed, taking up a good third of the surface area of it. Ennui was a dangerous feeling for devils and yet as it stood Raphael saw little reason to fight against the rising listlessness, so many of his carefully laid plans had crumbled in such a short amount of time, he saw no way to salvage them.

“You look as miserable as a mange ridden hellhound Raphael.” Belladonna’s snide comment cuts through his thoughts like a knife and he blinks open a single eye to watch the younger devil saunter back into his room. He was all slim frilly shirts and tight leather pants, satin jacket cut to draw the eye to the dip of his waist. He smelt like honey and spices.

Bella carries a pile of scrolls under each arm and deposits them at his desk on the other side of the room. “Cheer up you old tom, I come bearing gifts outside my well sought after presence.” He hums, plucking several scrolls from the pile he had brought home with him.

“I’m afraid to ask.” Raphael groans. There was a not insubstantial chance a gift from Belladonna would be as useful as a kick to the balls.

“Oh don’t be like that, you’ll like this I’m sure.” Bella chirps, dropping the scrolls onto the bed near Raphael’s face. 

The cambion adjusts himself on the bed, reaches out and plucks one of them to examine, he recognizes it instantly.

“These are…”

“Some of your more high profile relatively recent contracts, yes.” The other fiend answers before he can even finish asking.

He opens the scroll with a flick of his wrist and examines the contents, confirming that it was indeed one of his although with a single difference than the last time he looked this one over.

“The soul has been collected? Where is it?” He asks, swallowing down the spark of anxiety trying to twist his stomach at the thought of Bella tampering with his contracts.

“In the dungeons, kept in stasis, waiting for you. There are more to sort through but these five here were the best of the bunch. I organized for.. Let's call it an early collection of these souls.” Bella purrs, tail curling smugly.

“They should have been left to increase in value. These souls had a lot of potential left.” Raphael growls.

“I know that Raphael, but feeding you the energy from fodder off the market is getting you nowhere, and I will not feed you more of myself, even if I wanted to, Fierna would not allow it. You will simply have to pull as much suffering and misery from these souls as you can, and soon. Apparently Mizora is being sent to harass my door next.” Bella says, crossing his arms, giving the cambion a look that said ‘you should be grateful.’

Raphael sighs, dragging a hand over his face. Mizora would not be cowed like some of Zariel’s other minions, Bella would be unable to turn her away at the door without offending the Archduchess of the First. He groans and tries to bury his face into Bella’s bed, though finds it impossible in his current form.

His current form.

Suddenly, he has an idea.

“How are the mansion's Hunting Grounds Bella?” He asks.

“As well kept as they always are.”

“And your hounds? Your other pets?”

“Healthy, loyal and vicious. Why do you ask?”

Ignoring the aches and pains that twinged across his body, as he had experienced far worse, Raphael gets his arms under him and pushes himself up, arching his spine and stretching out his wings and tail. “Invite Mizora over for afternoon tea, I know exactly how to wring those souls dry.”

[meownotgood]

sorry but there’s something *really* hot about the idea of Aki covering your mouth with his hand while taking you from behind

"we have to be quiet."

aki's voice is a deep and murmured hum in your ear, tapering off into a hiss as he grips your hip tightly and slides inside you. his shoulders go slack, his eyelids flutter. he leans his body over yours, wrapping an arm around your stomach to keep you up. he's supposed to be better than this, normally he would be. but he's waited so long for you, and he isn't about to wait any longer. he's missed you way too much.

it doesn't quite matter to him that the only thing giving the two of you the tiniest amount of privacy is the thin, shut door to his bedroom. he can hear his coworkers talking in the living room, he takes shallow breaths and hopes to god they can't hear when his pelvis goes flush with your ass, every desperate rut of his hard cock into you echoing heavy and wet. he prays that no-one at the house party will notice how the two of you have disappeared, slipping away to aki's bedroom to fuck because you couldn't wait for everyone to finally leave.

"aki, I-" you cut yourself off with a whine, aki pressing into you so deeply that your whole body tenses, your hands fisting his navy blue sheets and your eyes screwing shut tight. it's taking everything in you not to cry out his name. he feels so good and so thick and you can't help but moan between every gasp for breath. "I can't."

you're still too loud. you're loud and only getting louder, which is a shame because aki really needs to fuck you harder. he sighs, he leans in close, mutters a soft shhh to you, his breath hot on your nape. when you aren't getting the idea, he reaches around and his palm comes to press gently over your mouth, muffling your noise.

you just need to keep it down for a little while longer. soon, everyone will leave, and aki can make up for this, for having to shut you up with his hand, for having to struggle to keep himself silent by biting down hard on his bottom lip. when it's just the two of you, he won't have to keep you quiet like this. he'll have you screaming for him until your throat's gone sore.

[quinn-pop]

this is a joke but it’s also…almost the meaning of something in drafts

[blaacknoir]

Eye Avatar Concepts

A Catholic priest feeding on the confessions of his parishioners.

A soccer mom spreading gossip on Facebook.

A redditor who shares horrifying facts about the world and the creatures in it that nobody wants to know about.

A "psychic" who gives cold readings, picking up and sharing the worst facts about people at their shows.

A TikTok addict who mindlessly scrolls through their feed, which consists of nothing but candid videos of people who have no idea they're being filmed.

And, of course, the FBI and NSA agents watching us all through our webcams. (Hope you enjoyed seeing me scratch my boob, Mark!)

Edit: Also, this guy apparently

Eye | Flesh | Vast | Spiral | Corruption | Lonely | Web | Buried