#roo answers

[im-not-batman]

For the ask WIP game

Spideypool falling please 😊

Oh I LOVE this one!

It's a 5+1 of spideypool falling for eachother and then Falling For Eachother. Featuring Dadpool because I'm a big fan of his work (Ellie).

"It really creeps me out when you do that, Webs." Wade said, sinking deeper into Peter's beat-up couch and kicking his fluffy-sock-clad feet up onto the other half of it that Peter was perched above. "I like sitting up here, sends all the blood to my brain so that I can beat you quicker," Peter reasoned and as if on queue the tinny TV speaker announced yet another victory. "You're such an asshole, Baby Boy," Wade smirked up at him, sounding more proud than annoyed. He threw a couple of M&Ms up for Peter to catch in his mouth, "do the other heros know how much of an asshole their comrade is?" Around his mouthful of chocolate and peanuts, he grinned, "I save all my worst bits for you, Wade." It was true too. He always felt like he needed to pose and posture around his fellow superheroes. Even though he'd come into his own as Spider-man over the last ten years, he still yearned for their approval and strived for their respect. Around Wade though, there was no need to pretend he was any better than he actually was. He didnt feel the need to constantly be on his best behaviour. Peter let his sass and sarcasm, disdain and irritation, good moods, bad moods and everything inbetween run rampant around Deadpool. And he never felt like he was being judged or evaluated. Just admired. Ecouraged even. "I'm touched," he said, throwing up another handful of M&Ms. This time Peter didn't react quick enough, lost in thought, and missed them.

Instead Wade caught the chocolates in his own mouth. Which shouldn't have been a thing but Peter's brain was making it a thing. He couldn't figure out if it was the ease with which he caught them – Peter's attraction to competency rearing it's ugly head – or the fact that the M&Ms were intended for his mouth and were now in Deadpool's. Either way, Peter's brain was doing some sort of horny gymnastics to rationalise it as tonsil tennis by-proxy. He watched Wade's throat bob as he swallowed. Peter's concentration was decidedly broken. He slipped. Usually that wouldn't be an issue; usually he'd have fallen from a much greater height and thus had more time to catch himself. But he was hanging from the ceiling this time. Granted, it was a relatively high ceiling, but not high enough. He let out an indecipherable jumble of a scream/shout/warning and Wade managed to dive out of the crash zone in time to not be knocked out by a 170 pound moron. When Peter didn't feel the heavy, throbbing pain of head trauma, he managed to gather his wits enough to realise that his head hadn't made contact with anything.

After another moment, he realised that Wade had seemingly managed to get his hand between Peter's skull and the floor. He still found himself uncomfortably contorted - half on the couch, half off, in a sort of human pretzel situation - but Wade had reacted in enough time to keep his head from cracking against the ground. And he was still holding him that way.

Peter's brain stopped working again. "Sorry," Wade said, trying to right the hero so that he was no longer lying at a downward 45 degree angle with legs akimbo, "Dad reflexes."

Peter wanted to scream. "You're apologising for saving me from a concussion?" Peter attempted to tease but it fell flat when he saw Wade's face, "Are you okay?" He let out a choked laugh, "Am I okay?" He asked incredulously, "you just fell eight feet." "And yet you're the one looking a bit loopy," Peter half laughed but wasn't able to keep the worry from seeping into his tone. "You scared the shit outta me, thought you were gonna go splat!" Deadpool justified. "From that height? Child's play. If I'd splatted, I'd have deserved it." It was a joke but Wade didn't seem to find it funny. "You should look after yourself better, Petey," he looked like he realised he was being too serious then, and his demeanor visibly shifted, "you don't regenerate, so you gotta look after that sinfully gorgeous meat suit of yours."

Ty ty for the ask! I really wanna get back into writing these two, I love them so much 🥲

Send me an ask with which of my WIPs from This Post you wanna hear about!

[yangularoo]

not an ask but WOW YOU ARE SO FREAKING COOL!!! ur animations are gorgeous and adorable!! keep up the amazing work dude :D

Thank you so much! 💖I'm so excited for how much others are enjoying these streamINK and dinovember animations, they're a lot of fun to make!

[roozible]

lets have a bunny talk together

absolutely

[ronearoundblindly]

I am sorry but I'm going to need a Ransom story with this prompt. It can be RoaR or a one-off, he can love it or hate it in this space, he can see it over Reader's shoulder on the computer screen, your choice!

o.0 oh boi oh boi oh boi! Fall Vibes but it's gonna be my summer challenge submission to @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar, featuring the flavors Cookies and Cream (soulmates) and Rocky Road (rags to riches) with the topping Oreos (marriage of convenience (reluctantly)). Also my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza, featuring a babe in love and cranky about it + "can you just...hold me please?"

For Show Ransom Drysdale x poor!soulmate!reader

Summary: Ransom hates that you--his soulmate and wife--are nothing like him.

Warnings for smut and Ran's a**hole brain (rude, nasty thoughts that he barely even believes). Classic Lexi--this is cheeky, y'all, but you know it's because I can't help myself... MINORS DNI. Find all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist. WC 2.1k

Ran didn’t believe in love to start, but this is fucking ridiculous. Opposites attract? Get wrecked, asshole. He’s keeping opposites on the other side of the house. It’s not far enough.

It’s standard practice for the confirmation of matching soulmarks to act as a de facto marriage contract—common law, if you like,—and Ransom Drysdale fought tooth and nail to make you prove you had his name on you. He needed to see it with his own eyes or fuck that shit.

His is obvious; he can show it off. In fact, Ran is surprised by how long it took you to come forward, considering his family and status, considering his lifestyle of being very visible.

But no, he had to wait for a fucking database to pop out record of his match from your healthcare provider, and he had wait for that because the government knew about your health…because they know such things…about people who need their fucking money. The registration of soulmarks puts the financial responsibility on the soulmate if they end up having the means.

Now Ran is responsible for you, a woman he made lower the front of her panties in open court to reveal his goddamn name in his own goddamn handwriting imprinted right above her goddamn cunt, and suddenly it became his cunt, his problem, his responsibility.

You’re not even fun. You had no money and didn’t care to have any, so you moved your few, ratty belongings into his home, replacing nothing, offering nothing in return for his—well, in return for every fucking thing he has now being yours, too. It’s so fucked.

You don’t want to show off, and he has no intention of showing you off. He can’t be seen with you, not without the proper clothes or jewelry, and you refused to get them. Instead, Ransom leaves you alone in the house, doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as always. He won’t talk to you because he just gets furious every time. He’s not going to have deep conversations about the state of the world, though he might have one social justice issue he can fight for: the mother-fucking law that made you his wife without question.

Ran slams the kitchen cabinet storing all-white, matching stoneware mugs when he notices what’s missing: your single, sad, flea market mug. It’s clay so it always looks dirty, and he hates it.

He lightly punches his own neck in irritation.

He didn’t stand a chance fighting the marriage, not with your name in deep, port red letters creeping up his throat, higher than any turtleneck he’s ever owned. Coupled with his legal name resting snuggly beneath your pubes, it was obviously, technically accurate that you’re soulmates. When was the last time someone challenged that system, he thinks. That might be a better use of his money than—

Where are you anyway?

For all his annoyance, he hasn’t set eyes on you for days.

His house is large enough (and he spends so much time anywhere else) that you have your own room, which you didn’t question, and the kitchen is easy enough to share when one of you eats out with other people (as he does two to three times a day). You get the slightly bigger and more formal living room while Ran gets the den with the big TV. Really it’s been the perfect system for almost forgetting you exist.

He pours tea into his clean, white mug and leaves said big TV fairly loud on some program he wasn’t paying attention to, leaning over the granite countertop to see if he can spot you from this angle.

No luck.

He steps closer, sipping.

A little closer, more sipping, a purposeful smack of his lips to grab your attention if you are just around the corner.

There are two openings, both far larger than doorways, to the living room, each through the central hall. When he doesn’t immediately see you, he steps to the farther opening. What the—

What’d you do to his couch?

Is that every single pillow and blanket from your side of the house?

Did Yankee Candle Company throw up in here?

What, the fucking fireplace wasn’t enough ambiance for you? You had to make some sort of nest with his stuff? And there’s that ugly-ass mug, no coaster, on his super-expensive, reclaimed hardwood coffee table.

A pillow shifts.

No, not a pillow; it’s your back, and when you shift again, Ran sees one of the plush throw blankets slink farther down your bare skin. It’s the largest swath of your body he’s ever seen.

You lay with your arms folded, peering out the windows behind the couch, and you still haven’t fucking noticed him.

He huffs before realizing he isn’t listening to the faint TV anymore, but when he ticks his head, he sees your TV isn’t on either.

“”I think of nothing but you as I fall asleep at night”—” Ran hears a woman’s voice fake a deeper tone before switching to normal “—Javier says, pulling her soft curves into his hard body—”

You sigh dreamily and wiggle on the cushions. The blanket slides over the swell of your ass.

Ran stops moving mid-sip of tea.

“”Please, my darling, let me have you—“ this is fucking terrible, he thinks “—as only a lover can.””

Alright, now Ransom is just sad. You’re naked in his living room, rubbing your thighs together and listening to an erotic novel on your phone.

“Chloe felt his digits dance across her clavicle, his eyes enchanted by her heaving bosom…”

Go out to a club or restaurant with him? No. Wear nice clothes he could buy you? Nope.

“”Javi,” she gasps, distracted by his rough palm groping her breast hungrily, “I can’t believe you want me.””

Ran is going to fucking gag at the whining appall in the narrator’s voice.

Why listen to this awful shit instead of show off him as your husband? From the quick shiver racing down your spine and the curl of your toes where they hang over the cushion’s edge, it’s because you’re fucking horny for it.

Good god, how low are your standards?

He stalks forward, feet hitting the floor hard until he reaches the plush rug.

Startled, you peer over your shoulder at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, and you begin scrambling to recover yourself.

Ran puts his cup down by yours. “Don’t move,” he orders, and to his surprise, you obey, keeping you head turned his direction and sinking back into the pillows.

“”How could you doubt? From the moment I met you, I adored you.””

He swivels to face the same direction as you, reaches out his hand and mime the stroke he’s contemplating tracing over your curves.

“”I’m yours,” Chloe breathes, Javier’s growing member signaling his desire against her silk-covered core.”

Ran finally bends until the tip of his middle finger grazes the inside of your thigh.

As he drags it over one cheek and down the other, you whine and push your ass toward his hand.

That’s…not bad, all things considered. You are his wife, after all, and you clearly want to be fucked. He won’t argue that having some other woman’s name scrawled on him hasn’t limited his game for quite a while. Financially independent or not, when a pussy is presented to him, Ransom will say ‘yes.’

He stops noticing the audio from your phone and just dives in, no sentiments or kind words of his own. He simply unbuckles his belt, pops the button of this jeans, and rips that zipper down before teasing your folds to find enough slick at your entrance to swirl around. He spreads you and your wetness with purpose. Each second that passes drives Ransom a little bit more insane.

Impatient, strung out like a virgin on prom night, he rushes to shove his pants out of the way and kicks one knee up between your legs, his other foot still on the floor. He pumps his fingers inside you until he’s knuckle-deep and nearly dripping, manhandling your hips to the right height to sink his tip into you.

Ran groans at how fucking good you feel. He’s probably just desperate. He’d be excited about any ol’ means to come right now.

He snaps his hips in small thrusts until his whole length glides in and out in seamless stimulation. You’ve buried your face in the pillow, so he can’t hear if you make any noise. He can, however, see your hands scratch at the upholstery and clench into fists. He can see you deepen the arch of your back, angling his dick to fuck just slightly down through your channel. The pressure squeezes the spongy head of his cock like a vice. He’ll never say it out loud, but your pussy is fucking perfect. God fucking dammit.

Ransom relentlessly drives into you, catching the sideview of your breasts bouncing each time his thighs slap yours. He smacks your ass once just to see if it jiggles for him, and that’s when your hand snakes to disappear between your legs. He expects you’re going for your clit which is good because he’s about to get off and get lost, but instead, he feels your soft fingers cup his balls.

He’s so enamored by the sensation that he switches to tiny pulses deep in your cunt while your hand wraps and rolls his sac gently. Twitching and tensing, Ran unabashedly moans until your walls constrict around his length.

He’s got to make you do that again.

Ransom collapses forward to lean over you, his own hand diving to find your clit, resting his palm right over your mound and soulmark. Every inch of his body burns hot with need. He humps wildly, resting his chin over your shoulder.

“”I don’t care how, Javi, just stick it in there. I need you. I need you so badly…””

“Jesus Christ,” Ran growls, “are they still not fucking?”

A giggle bursts from your lips, a sweet, happy sound he’s never heard from you before, and you reach for him. Your palm lands on his soulmark, your fingers curling to scratch the hairs at the nape of his neck, and there’s…there’s…

He can’t comprehend how your body fits his so well. He can’t reconcile this sudden swell of obsession in his gut for you. He’s enveloped in a binary system of souls, gravity tugging at that connection between you.

Ran doesn’t believe in love or destiny. He refuses. He believes in pleasure and perception, in accumulation and ownership.

The only thought left in his static-filled head is mine, mine, mine, mine.

He falls over the edge first, a satisfied shout punctuating each spurt he plants within you, furiously working your messy clit and kneading one breast in his free hand until he feels that squeeze again, and again, and again, dying to a flutter just as your shared cum leaks out around his cock.

By this time, Ran is panting and resting a sizable portion of his weight on you, knees knocked loose in his onslaught, pushing you both flat to the chaise cushion, feet dangling off the end.

You still hold each other’s mark in a comforting palm.

He’s speechless as the room fills with heated love declarations amidst passionate sex and bad dialogue. Ran tries to catch his fucking breath. He’s glad you don’t speak either.

Everything about his life—his past, his present, his future—sits utterly raw in front of him, and he can’t cope.

He makes the mistake of peeling his body off yours, releasing you and dislodging your hand. The cold emptiness which immediately sweeps over him is sickening, and Ran barely waits for you to roll onto your back before he wedges himself between your legs again, instinctually laying on his side, pressing his sweater-clad shoulder against your sopping folds just so he can rest his soulmark right on top of yours.

Euphoria returns to his body and mind, thick like honey and all-consuming.

He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t want to live a moment without you.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mercifully, the audio speaks for him.

“”Can you just…hold me please? That was…that was…””

“”So intense,” Javier rumbles, “so beautiful.””

Ransom, the preening trust fund baby, has finally found something all his own, something he doesn’t want to share, something shown only for him.

He refuses, however, to call it ‘love’…

…yet.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I'm fine.

[ask-the-queen-beelzebub]

Out of character for sec but I found this while looking through some images and I totally see bee and the other sins doing something dumb like this when lucifer was in the dog house for something stupid XD

(This is probably canon ;-;)

[alicedopey]

Alright, no more Pine. How about some Nick?

It's not better.

A Deal with the Devil

Fandom: The 355 Pairing: Nick Fowler x Reader (curvy) Words: 1126 Warning: None (except Nick Fowler himself) A/N: I am blaming @darkficsyouneveraskedfor once again for this.

You should not even be here in the first place. You know you should not. But you had no other choice. When the chief of the FBI told you to go and meet one of the executives of the CIA, you could not refuse. Even if you knew there was a good chance he was doing this on purpose. He needed to show you he still was in control somehow, which was why he used your boss to make you do what he wanted. 

Thus, you agreed to meet at his luxurious apartment even though you would have preferred some public place and you agreed to go alone since your boss had stated it was a personal matter. Another sign Nick knew how to pull some strings so that the FBI would do whatever he asked with no further questions. Another thing that made your skin crawl.

He opened the door as soon as you rang the bell and leaned casually against it. His outfit matched his attitude. He had traded his usual suit against a pair of jeans and a blue sweater matching his soulful blue eyes. He knew what he was doing. 

“Just on time, as usual.” He looked you up and down with lazy smile on his face, admiring the way your knee-length skirt was hugging your curves. You almost regretted putting on your work attire and walked by him to come into the room. 

“Let’s get this over with.”

“Please, come in.” He followed after you. “After all, you know the place.”

“Nick” ‘You sighed. “I am not here to talk about things from the past. What…”

“Please take a seat.” He pointed to the table in his dining room where piles of money where waiting. 

You sat down hesitantly and crossed your legs, watching the banknotes with a frown. “That for me?”

“Yeah.” He took a seat on the opposite chair, gauging your reaction. 

You had none. There was no reason why he would give you that money. That is, unless the FBI wanted to send you on a special mission for the CIA with him.

“Well…not really.” He smiled. “It’s for your sister. After all, she needs to pay all those medical bills for your niece.”

There it was. “How on Earth have you heard about this?” You asked in a whisper. 

“Not thanks to you, that’s for sure.” He smirked. “You were always so secretive with me, I had to dig up some information.”

A chill ran down your spine. How long had he been doing this? How long did he dig up? And whatever for? To mock you? 

“So, what?” You snapped. “Now, you are just throwing your money at me to show you have it and I don’t. Does a child being sick amuse you?”

You stood up abruptly from your seat, ready to leave.

“Not at all, sweetheart. You misunderstood me. Sit down.” Every trace of smile had disappeared from his face. You sat down immediately, recognizing the Nick you had flew from. The one who could be so cold and threatening if you did not give him what he wanted. It had always amazed you what effect his tone could have on people until it was directed to you. Amazement then turned into fear. 

“The money is for you, sweetheart.” His smile was back. “That is…if you do something for me in return.”

Of course. Nothing was free with Nick Fowler.

“What do you want?” You asked in a tight voice.

He leaned closer. “You.”

“Nick….” You whispered. “We tried, you know it’s not working.”

“Hear me out.” He cleared his throat. “All I am asking for is one night. There is a charity event that I need to attend. I am sure you will be interested. It’s for kids with a heart condition. I assumed you would love to be my date. Afterwards, we would go back to my place and…have fun.”

He leaned back against his chair and winked at you.

“What if I refuse?” 

“Then, you say no.” He shrugged his shoulders. He was acting nonchalant but he was certain you would say yes. You knew it. Once again, you had no other choice but to accept his offer.

“So, let me get this straight”. You tilted your head on the side. “You offer to pay for my niece’s medical bills and all I have to do is whoring myself out to you”. 

You were amazed by your confident tone because you could feel yourself trembling on the inside. You would not show him your fear, though. It would give him more control than he already had. 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Really? What would you call it, then?” 

“Just…a deal. You get what you want and I get what I want.” He smirked at you. 

“I won’t have to pay anything back? At all?” You were quite skeptical about this. He always had something up his sleeve and it was better to be prepared. 

“Nothing at all. You give me this one night and we are even.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest and you bet he could hear it. He had always liked throwing the element of surprise. The man liked to play with his prey. But you would not be that gullible.

“I want it all written in a contract, then.” 

That made him raise his eyebrows. “A contract?”

“Yes.”

He chuckled. “Fine, if that’s what you want. But you won’t get the money before we both sign on it.”

“Fine by me.” You shrugged your shoulders and stood up, ready to leave again. This time, he stood up with you and walked you to the entrance door. 

He put his hand on the handle then seemed to hesitate and turned to you. “Nothing to seal the deal before leaving?”

He was mocking you again, always trying to make you uneasy and get the upper hand.

“After it’s signed.” You replied shortly. “And I will read between the lines.”

He snorted. “Read between the lines? Who do you think I am, sweetheart? The Devil?”

“You said it. Not me.”

He chuckled but opened the door and let you pass. You felt him brush your lower back and turned around, meeting his fiery gaze. It would be so easy to get lost in those eyes and let yourself succumb to your deepest desires, no matter what the consequences were. 

But you had your family to think about first. You abruptly stepped away from him, which seemed to amuse him even more. 

You sighed and finally made it outside. When you heard the door close, you sneaked a glance toward it to make sure he was behind it and almost ran to your car. Yes, it felt like you were making a deal with the Devil himself.

[emily-the-seraphim]

Awww aren't you adorable~

You taking care of abel up there honey~?

The poor dear was always so skittish when he was alive I hope he's grown out of it~

"Thank you!" *She laughs.* "And Abel is doing great, absolute sweetie pie. He isn't that skittish anymore, maybe because he knows he's surrounded by people who won't harm him."

@angel-abel

[ask-zestial]

*appears in his home one night at random drinking a glass of HIS wine in one of his chair*

You and I need to talk....

I've given you your space and independence allowing you to play your new persona away from my shadow as it were but I believe after recent events as of late a "discussion" is needed...

SIT *in an tone like a parent about to chastise a naughty child*

(Mod: Didn't know the best way to start this one so apologies if it's a little bad 🤷‍♂️)

(It's okay lol) Zestial just stared at Roo. He blinked, sitting down, crossing his legs and arms. "Who art thou and what dost thou in mine house?" Zestial asked.

(TRANSLATION: Who are you and what are you doing in my home?)

[im-not-batman]

Re the West wing au I feel like buck should be Donna to Eddie's Josh. Just think about it!!! The random facts the agonizing slow burn........the shooting of both Josh and Eddie and vehicle related near death experiences for Donna and Buck......also are you in my head bc I was completely independently thinking about buddie and joshdonna as ships earlier today and how much I love a slow burn

Anon not only am i in your head but i am in your walls.

Of course i had to make JoshDonna into Buddie. Literally too perfect <3 I didnt even think about the car accident/truck accident of Donna amd Buck!! Thats so true!

Also if you are interested i just made a full post about my line up for the fusion 👀

[usedtobethelegendcreator]

Wait, if Roo can clone herself, that means she can also fuck herself and get herself pregnant with Alastor, and since only one person is involved, Alastor is either born through asexual reproduction or he's the second coming of Christ gone wrong

The ultimate asexual being the product of asexual reproduction? Fitting.

And if we’re going into theory territory…we’ve been told that Alastor’s mother is in Heaven, and that he loved her. We’ve also seen that Alastor has a thing for strong, independent women that use him for their own means (Mimzy, Rosie). So if Roo is being held captive in Heaven (because what other place would be strong enough to hold her?), it could check out.

[roozible]

Joxer and Megs are sending their love

Roo feels it in his favourite way -- head scritches ❤️

[aro-in-danyl]

Alastor as a "Gift from God" AU part 2

I'll have you know it is very difficult to write from the POV of God so you get Roo instead. I had to look up bible verses for this.

PART 1 here.

-------------------

On the day of the first extermination cleanse.

When the first sinner was slain, Roo felt the soul attempt to rise. A fruitless endeavor, for their sinful deeds in life and in death ensured her roots bound the severed pieces of the soul to her.

Foolish angels, in culling the herd and stifling even the thought of rebellion, they only made her stronger. Roo tightened her vines around the soul and attempted to drag it down, down through the 7 rings, and to her.

Attempted, because before she even got past the Pride Ring, a stronger force yanked the soul upwards. Enraged and in disbelief she tightened her hold around the other souls being slaughtered by the dozens, but each and every time they were ripped from her grasp.

At the end of the day, when the exorcists were flying up and away from the slaughter, the portal to Heaven opened and Roo latched onto the connection and demanded an explanation.

"Have you gone back on your word?" her tone was taunting but her desperation and anger festered, "These souls are mine. Their punishment is meant to be eternal!"

Roo did not expect a response, God had not spoken to her since The Beginning, and God had no foothold in hell - usually. Today, apparently, was an exception.

God spoke to her, "My creations all return unto me in The End regardless. You know I cannot bare to be separated forever."

Roo did not buy this, "What ever happened to 'Depart from me, you who are cursed' was that not written?"

"Said by a King, not I." God refuted.

"But within your holy text." Roo sniped, "You reward their sin, their rejection of you, by accepting them back with open arms?"

"If you think that is what will happen to those who reject me twice, you know me not at all." And perversely, Roo felt relieved at this admission. "The righteous will have eternal life, the sinful - upon second death - nothing."

"And keeping them from me was merely a happy coincidence?" Roo felt emboldened, God must see her as a bigger threat than she thought, "To twist the meaning of your eternal punishment to exclude me, why I'd almost call that a quality worthy of a demon."

The portal, which had only been open seconds, pulsed with the force of God's anger.

Roo laughed. "You fear me enough to risk your angels falling into my grasp once again. Do you think this latest stunt of yours will keep me weak forever?"

"My angels have learned to evade you since then."

"Careful there." Roo feigned concern, "Anymore hubris and I'll have to save you a seat in Pride. I could put you next to your favorite child, wouldn't that be nice?"

God ignored the taunt, "I know your roots grow stronger on Earth. More fall to you everyday. Faster than even my best angels can catch them."

Roo smiled at the admission. To have her work acknowledged by the being who created everything, everything that would someday be corrupted and belong wholly to her.

God continued, "It is a testament to your strength that The End may be sooner than I thought."

Roo stopped cold. Her strength came from corrupting the creations of God, but if there was nothing to corrupt...

Ah. She thought. Nothing truly is an eternal punishment.

"Unless," God hedged. "We come to an arrangement?"

Suddenly the reason for God's desire to converse with her made sense. Here she was, weakened from the loss of over a hundred damned souls, from an event that would become a yearly occurrence. Here God was, with the threat of The End poised upon their fingertips, attempting to force her compliance.

And it was working.

But God had shown their hand too early, "How utterly demonic of you! You want to compromise with me? To reason with me?" She used her roots to trip a flailing exorcist trying to remove its spear from a corpse just because, "What can you offer me?"

"I will not hasten The End before its time." God stated, as if the threat of nothing was enough now that she knew God wanted something from her that they could not get themselves.

"You do not want to destroy everything you've created; you want it even less than I do. What is it you desire?"

The last few exorcists were getting ready to return via the portal, their clothes splatted in shade of red and an abundance of gore. They had yet to develop a tolerance to the violence they were perpetuating. Roo knew, just as God did, that many of the angels after slaughtering their first few sinners, had ripped their helmet off and vomited in disgust and despair.

Roo could feel their shock, their inner turmoil, their sense of righteousness, their loyalty to heaven. With time, and more exterminations cleanses, they would learn to enjoy the bloodshed. Or they would break. Such was the way of war.

"I wish to create a gift for Lucifer," God began, "A gift that will challenge him, embolden him, and remain by his side."

Lucifer! Why did it always come back to him? Around them, the corpses of the damned littered her domain never to rise again, God's angels grappled with the weight of their heavenly duty, and her influence weakened for the first time in decades. And yet it was Lucifer that made God lower themselves to speak with her!

Roo reigned in her rage, "And what does that have to do with me?"

"I am creating something unlike anything I've ever created before." God directed her attention back to the weak angel who'd finally pulled their spear from a corpse, "Immune to angelic destruction. Stronger than a thousand sinners, with the potential to stand against my Archangels, capable of vengeance and retribution."

Roo salivated. "And you're sending it here." Roo let the last of the shattered souls in her grasp go, not even paying attention as it shot upwards and away. "You'd create such a thing and put in my hands the instrument of your demise?"

"Which is why I appear before you. You know sin more intimately than I. So I implore you to cast off a piece of yourself for this gift and I shall do the same."

"And what is this gift?" The exorcist was attempting to clean the gore from the spear and failing. "And why should I give you anymore of myself when you've already taken so much?"

"A human soul."

"You intend to create a soul destined to hell before its first sin and gift it to the being who prizes free will above all else. Do you imagine he will thank you?" Roo didn't care about Lucifer's feelings regarding this gift, she couldn't wait to see the fallout actually, but she couldn't help but point out the obvious.

"No," God said, "he will not. As for you, this soul will bring a new age upon your realm. They will be The Avenger of the worthy. And a nightmare to everyone else."

"Do not repay anyone evil for evil," Roo quoted. "Is that why you need me? You want to avoid going against your own words, so you seek to blame me instead."

She did not give God time to respond, "But you still haven't told me what I gain. What do I care for this promised 'new age' or so-called Avenger when I am still trapped?"

"And that is my bargain," God attempted to comfort one of the angels weeping over a small sinner's corpse but their touch fell short. Seems they did not have power over anything in her realm but exorcised souls, she mused.

"With a piece of us both, this soul will have a direct link to us in a way no fully mortal being has before."

Roo would've gasped if she was capable of breathing, "Speak plainly!"

"They could free you."

"What's the catch? Why would you give them this power?" She could hardly believe it. It was too good to be true.

"You have the chance to be free. But you must convince this soul to do so of their own free will, knowing fully the consequences of your freedom." Roo dismissed this, she was The Root of Sin for a reason, and this soul was destined for her realm anyway.

"You are forbidden from interfering with their life before hell. And you must find this soul yourself once they fall."

A minor setback, but the call of freedom was strong. Still, she was not so blinded by this opportunity that she wouldn't ask, "And what, do you, The Almighty God, gain from this bargain?"

"A hellborn will become your greatest adversary, they will attempt to redeem sinners and remove them from your grasp." The portal to Heaven began to close.

"And should they succeed, your chance to convince The Avenger will begin to close. And you will never know freedom."

"A time limit!" She should've known they wouldn't play fair, "How long?"

They turned her attention to the newly built Tower in the center of the Pentagram. The timer below flipped through the numbers at record speed until it hit 365. "Seven full moons after the clock strikes zero for the last time. Do we have an agreement?"

God's voice was strong as ever, but the portal was now only the size of a quarter. Roo knew manipulation and this reeked of it, how clever of God to wait until the last moment to share all the details when she had so little time to think of it.

"When in hell, you use the proper term." Roo pretended to scold them. She reached out to the fading tendrils of God and sunk her thorns in as deep into the connection as she could.

"We have a deal."

[ask-the-queen-beelzebub]

Yoo bee I'm bored and feel like screwing over Mammon wanna join me hitting him where it hurts~?

His money~

Between the two of us im pretty sure we can bankrupt most of his casinos with our magic before he catches on, you in~?

(It's always fun messing with Mammon 😈)

"FUCK YESSSS-"

[alicedopey]

There is no use to look at me this way, sir. I am not impressed. Definitely not 👀

Also perfect picture for modern Prince Loki. Or Mob Loki.

[bloogers-boogers]

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[roo-root-of-evil-rp-blog]

"no..no no I refuse to let this fucking happen I'm not losing anyone else hell via is probably watching?!"

.... he's having a breakdown...

@damian-morningstar

Hahaha

Oh this shits better than cable~

Looks like your daddy is gonna axe another imp shorty~

Don't know when your dad got that life coach shit but meh he's still stab happy I see~

Good~