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ethereal-night-fairy · 1 month

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A Lick and a Promise

Chapter 1

Outlaw!Ghost x Female Reader x Outlaw!Soap

You let devils into your home. But why were they kinder than the saints in your town?

Warnings: MDNI, Arson, crude historical language (not by Ghoap), objectification (not by Ghoap), religious themes, small bit of fluff, period typical misogyny, kidnapping, implied physical abuse, sad backstory, implied theft, sorry if I missed any.

A Lick and a Promise Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Fire…there was fire engulfing the town you were meant to call home. Flames erupted from the trees like the gates of hell had been opened. From where you are, you see the flames lick and dance around the wooden buildings as the horses race away from the chaos that was unfolding. The smell of fiery damnation was cementing itself into your mind, it engraved itself onto your skin like a branding. Everything hurt…

Hot air whipped against your bruised and beaten flesh while you continued to struggle on the horse you were forced on. The smoke stings. You hear their screams in the growing distance as the mayor's home is surrounded by dark clouds of smoke. Why? Why was this happening? Why did they take it so far?

You keep twisting your head back to watch from you were forced to ride with the men you foolishly helped the week prior. You continue watching as tears stream down your face. His arms are as tight as a vice despite you pounding your hands back on his thighs. He doesn't let go, he doesn't even flinch no matter how many times you scream, beg or hit him. Your small home grows further away by the second. The little life you built for yourself shattered in the time it takes to saddle a horse with stolen goods. The fast movements of the horse jerks you uncomfortably as you clench onto whatever you can to steady yourself. Everything was becoming too much, the screams, the fire, the smell of burning, the pain, your pain. Your eyes burn into the back of the man with the skull face. Never in your life have you seen a man beat another bloody like he had. The worst part was you felt relieved when it had happened. You felt safe with them even if that feeling only lasted briefly. But why did they want to protect you? Why did they care?

You had let devils enter your home. But these devils were kinder than the saints in town, yet you were deceived by their kindness. They took you without remorse. You don't know why you thought just because these two men were soft to each other that perhaps they'd be good people, perhaps they wouldn't hurt you like everyone else did. You should never have helped them. You should have told them to leave the second they had awoken. Look at where your kindness has gotten you. Kidnapped and probably on the road to your demise. You've become an outlaw by association. What were they going to do with you? Whore you out for money? Sell you to a ranch? Have their fun with you only to leave you drowned in a stream? Was their kindness just a ruse so you'd agree to help them in return for safety?

But in the back of your mind you wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart, that they weren't going to hurt you. That they were too kind to do that. Yet you'd be foolish to trust outlaws on the run again. They had dragged you to damnation with them. Now the whole town hates you even more than before. It won't be long until your face begins being printed on wanted posters…

-The week prior

The blazing sun was gradually making its way further up from the horizon. The sunshine beamed down on the river, making the blue water glitter and gleam on the surface as you watched on. The birds chirped as you enjoyed the warmth of the weather bestowed upon you.

Cold water prickles your hands as you tug the rope to gather the fish traps you had laid in the river yesterday. Thankfully it seemed heavy this time around. You’ll be able to make something for the poor men burning with fevers on your mattress. You hadn't wanted to leave them alone but you had work to do. You needed to gather water for their horses and collect your traps. The small vegetable patch also needed watering so you'd probably have to make another trip round to the river.

Once the dripping basket is in your hands you haul it to the riverbed, struggling as the fish jump around in the woven material. It takes a couple minutes for the movement to finally stop. You deposit all of your catch which consists of a handful of freshwater prawn, three haddock and some anchovies. You gut the fish using the river water to clean off the blood. You hated doing this part but it wasn't like you had anyone to help you anymore.

You missed your parents dearly. Well your mother was dead there's no bringing her back but you wished your daddy would find his way back home to clear his name. That he’ll explain that everything was a misunderstanding and he didn't take anyone's money. He wasn't that kind of man you knew that. He always taught you how to work for an honest living. He lived like that for as long as you can remember. There was no way he ran off with the mayor's money. Yet you had no way to prove his innocence since he disappeared.

Once you're done you place everything in a bucket and carry both the fish and the water back to your little home. You've been struggling to gather game for a couple weeks now, the majority of the traps you'd set were often tampered with or stolen by the time you got back to them. You've resorted to fishing for the time being. You wished the townspeople wouldn't hate you so much. They had already kicked you out of your town home. And returning to your old town was out of the question. It was miles away and you didn't trust anyone in town to take you there, you also didn't have the money to pay them. And you were still hopeful your daddy would return one day.

You're deep in thought on how you're going to prepare for the coming winter when two horses race by you. You halt in fear as you try to make sense of what was happening while trying to clear your vision of dirt. When the dust finally settles your met with two piercing eyes of what looks to be a sheriff of a different town. His uniform is pristine, his bright badge gleams in the morning sun almost blinding you. He has a stern look to him. By the looks of his white hair you'd think he's much older than he is.

“Little lady you shouldn't be out so far out of town by yourself! There's two outlaws on the loose, haven't you heard!?” You take in his stern tone, your mind racing with the information he's just given you. But before you can answer the older gentleman the person beside him speaks up. The voice is jarring as it cuts through your eardrums, bringing back awful memories. It belonged to a man you so unfortunately recognised.

“Don't bother with her sheriff, she's a twofer (loose women). You couldn't make an honest woman out of her even if you tried. She's better off dealing with outlaws by her own self,” all you can do is glare as you take in the hardened face of the mayor's brother. You hadn't realised that he had become a deputy. It's been so long since he's come bothering you, you'd hope he had died of dysentery. You feel bad for the woman in his town. He's probably already abusing the authority he's been given. The sheriff is stunned into silence but before you can defend yourself from the now balding Calvin, he opens his big mouth again.

“I wouldn't be surprised if she was stealing from the town again, just like her old man eh. Did he ever come back darlin’ or is he still on the run? Have ye resorted to selling your backside for some extra dollars? I wouldn't be surprised if you did,” he lets out a boastful laugh eyeing your patched up dress.

“I told you you'll regret rejecting my marriage proposal. Wouldn't marrying me have been better than trying to become my brothers left handed wife (mistress) eh? What? I didn't have enough money to satisfy you? You're no better than a trug (low class prostitute). Won't be long until I see you working at the bed-house. I might even take pity on you and try you out for night,” he smirks down at you from his horse as you try to avoid his leering gaze.

Tears obstruct your vision but you try to keep them at bay. You wanted to call him every name in the book for saying all these baseless accusations about you. But he was a beef headed ten cent man who enjoyed tormenting women, especially those who reject his advances. You weren't the first and you wouldn't be the last to deal with his god awful lecherous behaviour.

“Pull in your horns Calvin! That's no way to talk to a lady!”, the sheriff buts in.

“She's no lady sheriff, a trat (pretty girl) maybe but she's a filthy con. One that likes to toll (to entice) men for money,” Calvin continues his rant in spite.

“Stop airin’ your lungs. Excuse us ma’am we'll be on our way then,” though the sheriff was polite you could see the look of what seemed to be distaste in his eyes as he took in your figure and worn out clothing before leaving. They quickly turn their horses in the direction of the town with Calvin mirthfully laughing along the way.

You're left standing there as you try to collect yourself before returning home.

-at the house

"urgh!...", Simon woke in a fright, sweat was pooling from every pore in his body. He frantically looked around the room trying to figure out where he was. It took a while for his memories of the night before to return. His muscles screamed in pain as he fought to try to move them but they weren't cooperating. His body felt hot and sweaty, like his skin was sunburnt. The sun was setting, his eyes squinted as the dwindling sunshine streamed down from the only window. Damn they were meant to leave before dawn. A whole day had gone by. He feels around his face making sure his bandana was still on before looking over at Johnny. His bandana was still on too. You hadn't tried taking it off. The only difference was that two wet cloths were placed on both of their foreheads and a chipped bowl full of water next to the mattress on the floor. Had you nursed them all day? Where were you now?

"Johnny?... Johnny wake up....," Simon sat up with difficulty calling out Johnny's name but he stayed asleep. Simon felt his forehead before ringing out the cloth and dipping it in the water to reapply. This wasn't good. He's burning up… He needed to get up to look for some yarrow Simon thought to himself. It'll help reduce their fever and then they'll be able to leave as soon as possible. The sheriff might have already made it into town. Simon prayed you hadn't met him. This puts them in a very dangerous situation. Simon sits up with great difficulty as the wound on his arm flairs up with pain. But before he can attempt to stand the door opens gingerly. He freezes when he sees you.

Your eyes meet each other and Simon is too stunned to speak. Your eyes are swollen and red, like you've been crying for some time now. He watches you try to hide the tears by looking away and wiping them hastily. A sudden surge of worry and anger fills his body. Who? Who made you cry? Who dared to hurt you?

Yet when he opens his mouth to demand a name the smell of something delicious wafts through the air making his stomach growl unintentionally. You speak up in a whisper before he can, now fully facing him again with a small smile.

“Food is almost ready, I found some yarrow to help with the fever too. I hope your okay with some fish and vegetable soup. I'm sorry I know it isn't much. But it was the best I could do. I'll make you some tea with the yarrow after you finish eating.” Simon hadn't noticed but you carried a small bundle of yarrow in your fidgety hands as you continued whispering trying to not to wake Johnny or possibly trying to prevent him from asking about why you were crying. He'll find out anyway even if it wasn't going to be from your mouth. Why would anyone hurt someone as sweet as you? You almost seemed too good to be true.

“Yes, thank you. Any food is much appreciated, we aren't picky eaters. This is way more than we deserve,” Simon watches you smile so genuinely at his response that it baffles him. All he did was speak politely to you yet you smile like he had plucked stars from the sky. The thing he didn't know was that no one in town has spoken kindly to you in a very long time. So anyone talking to you even if it was normally was something you cherished greatly.

“It'll be done soon. I just needed to grab some salt. Oh.. and I gave your horses some water I hope you don’t mind that I went near them.”

“That's offly kind of you. I'm more surprised they let you near,” Simon grunts as he watches you grab what you need. That being some salt and another pot probably to boil the tea for later. Your dress had patches all over it, probably from you fixing it with whatever fabric you had laying around. The more he looked at you the more he realised how much you were struggling to obtain the bare necessities for living. Yet you remained so kind and generous. Why?...

“Ah it's no trouble at all, they let me pet them so I'm happy with that…Oh! we'll have to patch your wounds again. Let me go get some sterilised water for you!”, you say gazing at his now bloody arm. The stitches must have opened up while he was trying to move. You smile at him on your way out. You could definitely use some more meat on your bones. You really weren't living a good life out here. Yet you were so kind to feed them and their horses. They'd make sure to leave you behind enough money to sustain you for a couple years. It's the least they could do after all you've done for them.

That reminds Simon he needs to do a parameter check on your house. He'll have to ask you about the sheriff too. But it looked like you were isolated from the town. It was either this or that you rarely went into town for your own reasons. News travels fast, especially in frontier towns. Though it seemed like this was one of the bigger ones. He was glad you would probably be the last person to receive the news. That just meant they could spend a couple days with you without you being afraid of them. And they could leave before you were even given a chance to report them to the sheriff.

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running-with-kn1ves · 6 months

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BELONGINGS

Orc x Kidnapped human reader (Gender neutral)

A/N: Literally NO ONE asked for this but I kept seeing all those shrek/swamp romance tiktoks and got inspired to do some orc stuff. Man I love orcs... like big dumb bugs personified. (also ignore the experimental latin pet names idk what im doing)

CW: Kidnapping, forceful holding, arson, raiding, kind of just angst fluff?

Word count: 2600

You knew the excitement of your life would never move past the blandness of day-in day-out work to survive, not as one without any bestowed or taught brow-raising talents that could lift you away from the mundane daily life you held in the wispy fields of the woodlands.

As a realist you concurred that you’d never be the breadwinner in your family, maybe not the strongest when hauling crops, or the smartest when it came to solving passed down arithmetic equations from your cousins’ old school books. But as a child you always took comfort in the thought ‘at least I won’t be chained down, won’t be tied to some ugly pig farmer for a couple shillings.’ Your family valued you that much; well-- your working hands, that much. ‘One more body is one more mouth to feed’ you were told time and time again, but you pulled your weight and then some.

You had little time to think outside of planting, weeding, bathing and eating. Meals and getting rid of the dirt covering your soles that you were scolded for after hours of being in the damp pastures were the only down time you had to yourself, not surrounded by the screaming nieces and nephews you were expected to take care of when the elder of your family members eventually passed from whatever disease ran rampant in the village the coming winter. You prepared your life, prepared for taking care of others and continuing your hard work in growing what you needed to survive, and selling what you didn’t.

Unfortunately, that humdrum future was wiped out by swirling flames and the braying of stallions of mountainous size. They came in, trampling the greening cranberry bush you were planning to keep all to yourself, and the cabbages your family would have relied on for meals for the next two months before winter fell.

Persimmon trees were burnt to crispy thorned stumps, the lush of your family’s acres now shredded to flecks of dead grass and muddy hoof prints, along with humanoid footsteps far too large to resemble any of the humans or disfigured hybrids in your teensy rural hamlet. Who were these unwelcomed strangers, the enormous creatures of the night that disrupted the only human civilization for miles around? You remained clueless for the entirety of being ripped out of your bed, continuing to be hauled over some olive-colored shoulder and thrown into a sack on the back of a wagon.

“This one.” You heard, right before your dirty finger nails were pulled away from your twin beds fading sheets you desperately tried to keep. You had even managed to bring a small, lumpy pillow along with you, the creature that slung you over their shoulder leaving no assumption of a notice. You witnessed the still-burning remnants of your frail thatched home, as the silhouette of a muscular man lowered a flamed stick to its leftovers.

The entirety of the bumpy ride to wherever your captors were bringing you to, you could only think of the fires holding onto the greenery of your land, of the dirt and rubble and smoke that clawed at your feet when you tripped into the wagon, burnt air choking you as a baby screamed out for its mother.

Hours must’ve passed before you were brought into this musky, dank room with other fading faces from your village, but it only felt like a few moments ago that you heard the crackling of a fiery tree crushing rows of perking crops.

The snapping of fingers nearly as grimy as your own blocked your recollection of clouded smoke and angry flames, bringing your attention back to the leather hut you sat domestically within. It was damp and dark inside, the light of torches outside being the only form of light. That, and the reflection of the metal on the warrior in front of you. He turned back, thumbing toward you as he looked at a similar creature.

“Agh, its no use, practically fucking deaf this one. Sure you don’t want one of the mothers?”

The other orc slapped his fellow warrior on the shoulder with a hearty laugh.

“No, my friend. Besides, sweet things’ only other option is Brutus. Don’t think he could last with one of these poor creatures without splitting it in two; ‘specially this one.”

You were suddenly and acutely aware of the orcs conversation, now that your fate was being so clearly decided in front of you.

The first, far sootier orc patted his fellow brethren on the chest as he turned away with a look that showed he was hardly convinced. Yet, he still walked out of the tented hut, ducking slightly to fit under it.

You watched him leave, feeling a sense of relief as the threat had been removed. And yet, there was still one so prevelantly in front of you.

“Hey there.” A guttural, almost faltering voice murmured to you.

Eyes growing wide, you gripped harder onto the smushed pillow in your lap, instinctively leaning your upper body backward to get away from the orcish face right in front of you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” The orc gruffed, falling to a crouch as he watches you slide to the edge of the hut’s leather wall. “Just wanna see you up close.”

He consumed the entirety of your fearful attention, his existence like a heavy weight in the room as the quiet tension aimed at him. You pushed your head painfully against a wood pole behind the leather walls, trying to morph your body any distance away that would provide you a miniscule fraction of comfort. But none came, especially not when a sudden warm finger pushed into your cheek. The green thumb pulled your upper lip, showing the ends of your teeth. Your other cheek smushed into your eye as the orc did the same to the other side, observing your poor excuse for chompers compared to his large, well-groomed tusks.

“Guess these’ll do. You can atleast chew meat, right?” he pulled your jaw open gently, making your lips part. “Don’t wanna have to feed you like a baby bird; though, that wouldn’t be the worst of troubles.”

You slapped his hand away, grimacing at the idea of being fed by this beast-creature.

“I can eat perfectly fine.” You grumble, noticing how stiff the orcs arm was, still holding out beside your face as it rests dejected. “What does that matter, aren’t you going to eat me anyway?”

You keep a frown on your face, glaring up at the crouched brute.

He let out a hearty laugh, those around you turning away from their miserable memories to face the strident disturbance.

“So cute, as if you’d be enough to feed an orcling!” He let out another chestful of a laugh, grabbing at your cheek this time with a pinch. “My little to-be spouse, I knew you’d be worth the trouble.”

Wincing in pain, your fingers came up to try and pry his rough, printless thumb off your salty skin.

“So adorable,” He throatily squealed, dragging you closer by the cheek to stumble into his chest. The only thing covering the caverned flesh of deep holes and ravined slices in his skin were straps of bull leather, and the furs of cottontails sewn to form a thin shawl around his bulky shoulders.

He smelled of a foreign musk, the slight piquant scent of his skin being swallowed in by your nostrils as your lips smushed against the dip in the middle of his chest. Something sharp poked into the side of your face as you were held tightly against the orc, making you muffle against him to let you go.

“You’re right you’re right; we should have some privacy-- and you, should get a chance to see your new home. My home.” He huffed against your ear, humid breath making your neck sweat as tusks touched the top of your head. “Name’s Xerxes, don’t forget it-- make sure you tell it to any orcs that try n’ talk to you.”

“Wait now--” Your aimed attempt of protesting was cut wrongly short by the sudden grab of your ankles, Xerxes beginning to stand back up as he dragged you with him. Before you knew it you were upside down, hollering as fat fingers made their way around your tibia. A shoulder jutted into your soft stomach, throat heaving as Xerxes began to move. You saw your lone pillow left on the ground, growing farther away as the large legs belonging to your captor moved from below your vision.

With every huge step he took, the harsh necklaces of teeth (which you prayed belonged to animals) dug into your side-- huh, so that must’ve been what was scraping against your face earlier. They clinked together as he walked, his body so rigid and unorthodox that he made a sound whenever he moved, whether it be a snorted grunt or the stomp from his feet, or the shift of his clothes and sheathed weapons.

Xerxes didn’t open the leather flap of the hut sahe carried you out, walking straight as it brushed across your head. You shut your eyes in an unavoidable flinch, but the orc hardly noticed as he adjusted you on his shoulder, grabbing right below your thighs to hold you steady.

The brilliant idea of beating and scratching his back enough to get free was so enticing you were on the brink of trying it-- but the orc standing outside the hut you just left, the unfamilliar darkness of the grasslands surrounding you, made you think twice.

And just like that, your world spun and you were tossed inside what must’ve been another tent, a blur of oranges from fiery torches and grey browns of animal hide entering your vision. Something soft hit your back as you let out an ‘oof!’ from the depths of your chest.

You scrambled to get back up, alert now that you were thrown in some different environment. But as you clambered to look around, whipping your head from side to side, all you saw were reddish walls of leather and two warm torches, along with the occasional spread of a map or a scribed foreign language.

This tent was much smaller than the last, not meant for a community to rest in. Instead, it was about the snug and spacious size of a room for only one to sleep in. The softness of hairs touched your palms, layers upon layers of furs covering beneath you to create a small lump of a warm, makeshift bed.

“Look at this,” An excited, guttural voice begged of you. “Been keeping it since forever; saw it in some… abandoned goblin grotto, once. Couldn’t help but take it with me as a memento. As soon as I saw it, I just knew it’d be the perfect gift for my future amasiuncula.”

You could taste the lie on your tongue, as if it was thick in the air once he spoke it. Orcs didn’t just ‘find’ things, the destruction of your teensy village showed you that much. But that didn’t matter, not when the piercing blue of a silk fabric dazzled at you. Why, you had never seen something so plush in your life. It was surely just a base blanket-like piece likely once spooled for the future of becoming some sort of clothing or undergarment; it was still so silkenly smooth nonetheless. Your fingers traced the perfect fabric, its sensation nothing you had ever felt in your years of living as a farming peasant. The softest thing you’d ever touched were the baby calfs your far neighbors had bred into existence.

“See how soft it is?” Xerxes said with a slight sputter, bringing the silk to your cheek. “Like a cloud… it’s yours. My engagement present.”

You looked back up at him bewildered. “Engagement?”

“A present. Orc tradition is to offer a gift of richness; the wealthiest thing I could get my hands on.” He covered you in the silk, wrapping your shoulders in it as he pulled you from the furs to his bare lap. You would’ve resisted given the chance, but the orc smugly kept the silk around your arms, bringing the other side of it to wrap around you, pulling it tight; you could hardly move yourself now, shoved in this warm softness of a cocoon; it frightened you. But the tusks pressed against your cheek, chewed lips touching your temple as a tongue gently poked out to swiftly press against your skin, made you fear something else more. “Always wanted a human..” The orc exhaled, audibly sniffing in the scent of your hair. “Been looking for a good once for a while now. One that’ll be nice and docile, a sweet little foal for me to enjoy--”

You slid your arms against the suffocating silk that was beginning to build heat. “I don’t think i’m what you’re looking for, besides I’m not--”

“Oh but you are,” Xerxes cut you off, leaning his orcish face close to yours to make you look at him. “So.. soft, your skin is like obsidian smoothed and frosted by the tumbling of waves of the sea, so polished and spotted I can’t help but want to keep it in between my fingers.”

Beads hung low by his neck, attached to rings of metal that pierced large holes in his pointed ears. The black and silver balls that dangled would jingle when he moved his head to get a better look at you, along with the wire and metal ornaments wrapped around the braids in his hair. Despite the undercut he fashioned (that you could see better now), a great mane of thick brown hair traveled to his shoulders, tickling your neck as he squeezed you closer. You felt almost like a baby, swaddled and pressed close to his large beating heart that thumped against your shoulder.

“And oh your dainty little fingers and toes, when I saw them peeking from your bedsheets I knew grabbing them with would be no mistake.”

The orc nuzzled into you with his flat nose, warmth spreading against your cheeks as his sunken face created friction. You always sort of thought your fingers were quite round, your toes a little mishappen, but compared to him, your entirety was merely like a child’s straw doll’s.

“I don’t want to marry you!” You blurted, freezing as the orc kept himself nestled against you. “I wanna go home, I want to go back to my bed and forget this-- I'm not some little trinket to mate with!"

Xerxes gave you a look. It was so smushy, an embarrassed grin like some pubescent boy watching his crush undress. It was perverted, so snickeringly crude as he bit his lip at the word "mate."

Ahh, he heard his fellow warriors, his chief in command even, discuss their "mates" with lustful wonder and candied eyes that danced with images of their beloved, their spouse. He had never had a person, never had a soft warm thing at night to hold, for him to bully himself into; it was hard to contain the joy inside of him, even with your rapid repeating of "no no no!"

"Mate…" He repeated.

"I said NOT to--"

"But you said it; and now… I can't get it out of my head, dulcis." Xerxes was snug against your wiggling chest, pressing his freckled cheek against yours to make your lips pucker. He was unbelievably, fiery warm, with a heat under his skin that you wondered was just a layer of embers.

The mixture of the orcs body heat and the humid equinox night made sweat cling to your dirty skin, the satin coddling you now feeling stickier. “Now, I s’pose its time we get you looking like a proper orc, smelling like one too. Like me,” Xerxes pressed his tusked mouth below your ear, protruding lips pressing a deep, slightly nipping kiss to below the corner of your jaw. “Get rid of this disgusting… exhilarating human stench.”

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cheshirebitch · 1 month

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Here me outtttttttt, Alastor or Lucifer (your choice) with a reader who has dabi’s power from MHA🫢

This actually sounded so good that I HAD to immediately put this power with Lucifer. I love that depressed duck man. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝕄𝕖 𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪

Lucifer x Reader (with Dabi’s powers)

As an overlord, you become used to people offering to team up with you, threats and attacks, and finding people to make contracts with. I normally was categorized as one of the “better” ones to have your soul sold to, unlike the Vee’s. Alastor was the one below me, but still wasn’t the best with how he treated his poor souls under his contract. What really scared people was when they heard why I was in hell instead of heaven with how I treated other souls here.

I died in an ironic way, burning from my own arson. My abuser was caught with another victim, but didn’t face any consequences for his actions. Therefore, I made sure he did by burning his home down while he was sleeping in it. I knew I would face murder charges and never see the sun again, so I burned inside with him, holding the door shut to the bedroom after nailing his windows shut. Due to my arson crime, I was sent to hell with the “gift” of blue flame. It looked beautiful but burned anyone who came too close. I was currently in a meeting with the overlords, playing with my blue flames on my fingers when Valentino came up to me, Lucifer watching from behind.

“So, how much did you say for Angel Dust’s soul?” His shit eating grin sparkling with the golden tooth. A polite smile twitched before I calmly responded.

”I would like to simply have his contract under myself instead of you with a buy-out price of the soul of Velvette’s.” I smiled with lidded eyes watching his cocky attitude melt away. All he knew was that I was interested in buying Angel Dust’s soul from him, never knew with what.

“Velvette didn’t sell her soul?” He sounded unsure as he glanced over my shoulder to Vox and Velvette waiting by the door to leave.

”You really think she had those powers when she came down here a couple years ago? You really are foolish.” I went to turn around, making Valentino panic. He gripped my arm, burning his hand instantly with my blue flame. My eyes were glowing an electric blue as the blue flames replaced my hair, flickering in the air. Valentino pulled back, holding his hand and looking in fear. He immediately fixed his tone, switching to an angry one.

“You bitch!” I was quickly losing my temper with how he was acting. If I slipped up and let my anger take over, I was doomed to explode blue flames everywhere. Lucifer was watching still from behind Valentino, ready to step in if I looked any more agitated than I already was.

“Do we have a deal or not, Valentino?” I stressed with my eyes and hair a flaming blue, the King of Hell already cutting off his current conversation. Valentino looked like he was actually considering taking my offer but was still angry with my skin burning him.

“Fine, I will release Angel Dust under you if you release Velvette to me.” My hand stuck out quickly in front of him and I made sure to burn his hand again, scarring one of his fingers as a reminder of this deal. Permanently burned into his memory that I was not a friend but an enemy that will always have the upper hand. Lucifer was by my side watching Valentino shake his hand violently in pain, hissing out curses. Vox and Velvette also joined, Vox aggressively inspecting his hand.

“What did you do?” Velvette started accusing me, pointing a finger in my face.

“We traded you.” I spoke simply as Lucifer caught up on what was going on.

I met Lucifer two weeks ago, outside of the professional setting, when Charlie and Vaggie asked for my help on something. They were referred to me by Alastor and Rosie, saying I was the only one with the power to get Angel Dust out of his abusive contract with the Vee’s. Lucifer had the power too, but it would cause an uprising. Of course I agreed for many reasons. But, it also got me involved in her hotel idea. I didn’t mind at all since it got me to become closer to Lucifer, even though we only met outside of meetings a couple times now.

“Who did you trade Val?” Vox grabbed his shoulders, getting in his face while his voice distorted with his anger. Lucifer glanced at me, silently approving of the accomplishment for his daughter.

“Listen, what’s done is done. You can’t undo it and it was his choice. If you have a problem, handle it outside of here.” He ushered the rest of the overlords out of the meeting room, shutting the door with both of us still inside. I took a couple deep breaths knowing I needed to calm down before I blew a fuse, literally.

”Did you get it?” Lucifer turned around, taking long strides to close the distance between us. He was smiling excitedly, enough that I felt like his eyes were stars. My laugh slipped out before I look at him, feeling comfortable.

”Did you doubt me? Of course I have his contract now. It cost me one of my upper hands over the Vee’s but anything is worth it for your daughter and her dream.” I smiled at Lucifer, holding my palm out to show a miniature Angel Dust in my blue flames form. I closed my palm when he leaned in a little too close for my comfort. I didn’t want to burn him.

”I still can’t believe you even had that girl’s soul!” I watched him take off his white hat, placing it calmly onto the table where we all gathered just a few minutes ago. My fingertips glided over the glass top, melting the glass slightly. The feeling of it melting and the smell of char forced my reflexes to kick in, pulling my hand away before I damaged it more. Lucifer, of course, noticed how it was molted now.

“Do you always get hot when you’re mad?” He spoke casually before turning as red as the apple on his hat. Immediately stuttering and waving his hands dismissively, realizing how it sounded. I watched him stutter through an explanation of what he meant with an upside down smile.

”I- uh- I- I didn’t- ha ha- I meant temperature. Anger causes high temperatures.” I laughed, deciding to put him out of his embarrassing misery.

“Thank you and yes.” I flicked my fingers to show the tips of them lit with the blue flame. Lucifer looked enchanted by the flames and before I could stop him, he reached out and touched them with his bare hands. I tried putting my flames out but what I noticed stopped me dead in my tracks.

”Why aren’t you being burnt horrifically?” I watched as my flames licked his skin, not burning it to a crisp. Lucifer watched as his hand held my flame instead. Truly, it astounded me considering no one could handle my flames, absolutely nothing could. What made it worse was trying to keep myself under control as I felt Lucifer’s hands softly graze my own. I didn’t know if it was just the fact that no one else has been able to even touch me without being burned by the heat of my body, the way the flame reflected in his golden and crimson eyes, or maybe it was the way I couldn’t ever keep my eyes off of him in the first place. Especially working with him outside of professional work, I have been able to look at him as more than just someone higher than me.

“It really is a beautiful flame.” His eyes were so enamored by it, he didn’t even get embarrassed or nervous. It was like we both were lost in something truly breathtaking, him with my unique flame and myself with how he looked illuminated by it. Lucifer glanced at me twice before he completely looked away from the blue flame on each of my fingertips. Gentle pale fingers pushed a hair out of my face, blue flames that were pieces of my hair. My hair and eyes were fully enflamed. I was increasing in temperature, which was dangerous considering the last man I thought I could attempt something with, was burned alive after our first kiss.

”You really are something, (Y/n).” He knew the right words to say to win my heart, but the wrong one to not make me burst into complete flames. What surprised me was how he still was able to hold his hand to my cheek.

“Seriously, how are you doing that?” I nervously laughed, awaiting for me to set the King of Hell ablaze.

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his brows, absentmindedly still holding my cheek. I could feel myself burn hotter from it.

”Everyone else who has even stood too close to me when I was like this, were burned to a crisp.” Maybe that was too blunt. Did I just scare him away?

”Wow! Really? That’s actually really interesting. Can you burn hotter?” His eyes were full of curiosity like a child. This man was really crazy if he expected me to try and kill him. I closed my eyes and took a couple deep breaths to extinguish myself.

“Too far?” He laughed nervously, pulling his hand away from me.

“I don’t feel like trying to kill the King of Hell today, I’m sure Alastor would love to do that though.” I teased, attempting to distract the poor thing from being too self conscious. I must’ve hit a nerve though, triggering a rant instead.

”Don’t get me started on that wannabe!” He rolled his eyes and took a couple steps, gaining me the moment and space to clear my thoughts better. Deep breaths, I need to take deep breaths and stop letting a man who probably doesn’t feel the same fluster me like that. I stood up and fixed mty outfit, smoothing my appearance out. By the time Lucifer turned back around, I had myself looking sharp and proper.

“He has been provoking me on purpose! You saw how he acts with Char Char! It’s like he only wants to act like her father figure just to get under my skin.” He ran his hands down his face. Metal glistened in the light, catching my eyes rather efficiently.

Oh. That’s right.

”Speaking of Charlie, I should probably head over to the hotel to pass along the news that I was successful in her request.” Averting my eyes from the man in front of me, I felt the choking reality that he was probably still in love with his extremely long term marriage partner and mother to his only child. I sucked a deep breath in before flashing a small polite smile.

”Oh, yeah. I’m sure she will be excited to hear the news.” I felt the room turn into an uncomfortable atmosphere. I looked at him in pity before sighing and sitting back down.

”Can I ask you a personal question?” I crossed one leg over the other, motioning for him to take a seat.

“uh- sure…?” He sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back fully in the chair. He was rolling up his sleeves then he ran his hands down the arms of the chair before gripping the ends in his hands nervously.

”Why do you still wear the ring? I think we both know she isn’t coming back, sweetheart.” Maybe that was also too blunt but I think he might need a shove into reality. He has been kind of in limbo for seven years. Last I checked, even Charlie had come to terms that her mom wasn’t coming back, at least not any time soon. I have had extensive conversations about it with her, even helping her realize her feelings of abandonment were valid.

“I don’t know.” He looked lost and his fingers traced over the metal, sliding it off. I stuck my hand out and stared at him, not once looking at the metal itself. He held it tighter in his hand before seeming to realize something internally.

”Lucifer, you need to let go at least enough to take care of yourself. It really isn’t healthy to hold on to something that is only causing pain and misery, now is it?” He looked defensive at first before blinking it away, replacing it with defeat and placing the ring in my hand. It instantly melted to liquid before I delicately morphed it into an “L” pendant with a thin chain. I may have helped him make the first step, but I wasn’t about to get rid of something so familiar to him. He would have to make that decision himself one day, I just nudged him in the right direction. Especially if he is still in deep love with her.

”I can give it to Charlie, see what she thinks the ‘L’ stands for. If she chooses me, that’s great, but if she chooses her mother, that’s also great that she can find it in herself to forgive her.” He hesitated, holding the chain.

”I don’t think I can ever forgive her for it, nor want to.” His eyes looked back up to mine, holding the gaze as he whispers, “I’m actually okay with her being gone now.” My brows furrowed as I waited for him to elaborate.

”I would’ve never had the chance to notice a beautifully complicated woman.” I felt my face burn, along with my whole body. I couldn’t control the high temperature and involuntarily burnt the chair completely before I was able to put myself out.

“I’m sorry, I can get a new chair!”

(As always, characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day <3!)

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #x reader #xreader #Lucifer #hazbin lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer

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racefortheironthrone · 6 months

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Was the Comics Code as bad as the Hays Code?

That's a really good question!

I suppose it depends on what you mean by "as bad" - are we talking about the overall impact of the Code on American pop culture or are we talking about the actual content of the Code and what it banned and/or mandated in terms of artistic expression?

I've written a little bit about the Hays Code here, but my main focus was on subtextual judaism in Hollywood generally rather than what the Code was and what its impact on American cinema was.

So what did the Hays Code actually include?

One of the few positive things you can say about it is that the men who devised it were quite clear and forthright about what would and wouldn't be allowed, in comparison to the vagueness and inconsistency of the modern MPAA. So here's the list of what couldn't be shown:

Pointed profanity—by either title or lip—this includes the words God, Lord, Jesus, Christ (unless they be used reverently in connection with proper religious ceremonies), Hell, S.O.B., damn, Gawd, and every other profane and vulgar expression however it may be spelled; (You'll notice that the Code is very much a snapshot of the transition from silent movies to "talkies," with the discussion of how profanity is spelled as well as produced via "lip.")

Any licentious or suggestive nudity—in fact or in silhouette; and any lecherous or licentious notice thereof by other characters in the picture;

The illegal traffic in drugs;

Any inference of sex perversion; (i.e anything having to do with LGBT+ people and culture. For more on the impact of the Hays Code on the LGBT+ community, see the excellent documentary the Celluloid Closet.)

White slavery; (the 1920s version of sex trafficking, but with added racism!)

Miscegenation;

Sex hygiene and venereal diseases;

Scenes of actual childbirth—in fact or in silhouette;

Children's sex organs;

Ridicule of the clergy;

Willful offense to any nation, race or creed; and (this one was really honored in the breach more than the observance when it came to nations, races, and creeds of non-dominant groups in society.)

The following things could be shown, but "special care be exercised in the manner in which the following subjects are treated, to the end that vulgarity and suggestiveness may be eliminated and that good taste may be emphasized:"

The use of the Flag;

International Relations (avoid picturizing in an unfavorable light another country's religion, history, institutions, prominent people and citizenry); (again, depended a lot on what country you're talking about.)

Arson;

The use of firearms;

Theft, robbery, safe-cracking, and dynamiting of trains, mines, buildings, et cetera (having in mind the effect which a too-detailed description of these may have upon the moron); (I guess the idea was that the MPPDA believed very strongly in the idea that media could affect people's behavior through imitation, but the use of the word "moron" gives me eugenics vibes.)

Brutality and possible gruesomeness;

Technique of committing murder by whatever method;

Methods of smuggling;

Third-Degree methods; (i.e, torture)

Actual hangings or electrocutions as legal punishment for crime; Sympathy for criminals; (this was a big one; Hollywood had done very well from gangster films, so a lot of creators had to do some careful threading of the needle to keep the genre alive. One dodge that they came up with was that they would have a duplicate "final reel" in which the gangster would have their inevitable comeuppance, and then remove the final reel when the censors had left the theater. Very popular with white rural teens.) Attitude toward public characters and institutions; (again, Hollywood shifting from being anti- to pro-establishment.)

Sedition;

Apparent cruelty to children and animals;

Branding of people or animals;

The sale of women, or of a woman selling her virtue;

Rape or attempted rape;

First-night scenes; (i.e, wedding nights)

Man and woman in bed together; (hence the eventual TV practice of showing married couples in separate beds in the 50s)

Deliberate seduction of girls;

The institution of marriage;

Surgical operations;

The use of drugs;

Titles or scenes having to do with law enforcement or law-enforcing officers;

Excessive or lustful kissing, particularly when one character or the other is a "heavy".

So in general, we can say that the Hays Code was extremely sex-negative, very concerned about crime and anti-establishment thinking, sexist, racist, and homophobic, and in general afraid of offending anybody.

So what about the Comics Code Authority?

So this is what the Comics Code looked like in 1954:

Crimes shall never be presented in such a way as to create sympathy for the criminal, to promote distrust of the forces of law and justice, or to inspire others with a desire to imitate criminals. If crime is depicted it shall be as a sordid and unpleasant activity.

Policemen, judges, government officials, and respected institutions shall never be presented in such a way as to create disrespect for established authority.

Criminals shall not be presented so as to be rendered glamorous or to occupy a position which creates a desire for emulation. In every instance good shall triumph over evil and the criminal punished for his misdeeds.

Scenes of excessive violence shall be prohibited. Scenes of brutal torture, excessive and unnecessary knife and gunplay, physical agony, the gory and gruesome crime shall be eliminated.

No comic magazine shall use the words "horror" or "terror" in its title.

All scenes of horror, excessive bloodshed, gory or gruesome crimes, depravity, lust, sadism, masochism shall not be permitted.

All lurid, unsavory, gruesome illustrations shall be eliminated. Inclusion of stories dealing with evil shall be used or shall be published only where the intent is to illustrate a moral issue and in no case shall evil be presented alluringly, nor so as to injure the sensibilities of the reader.

Scenes dealing with, or instruments associated with walking dead, torture, vampires and vampirism, ghouls, cannibalism, and werewolfism are prohibited.

Profanity, obscenity, smut, vulgarity, or words or symbols which have acquired undesirable meanings are forbidden.

Nudity in any form is prohibited, as is indecent or undue exposure. Suggestive and salacious illustration or suggestive posture is unacceptable.

Females shall be drawn realistically without exaggeration of any physical qualities.

Illicit sex relations are neither to be hinted at nor portrayed. Rape scenes, as well as sexual abnormalities, are unacceptable.

Seduction and rape shall never be shown or suggested.

Sex perversion or any inference to same is strictly forbidden.

Nudity with meretricious purpose and salacious postures shall not be permitted in the advertising of any product; clothed figures shall never be presented in such a way as to be offensive or contrary to good taste or morals.[16]

You'll notice the similarities when it comes to the Codes' attitude to sex, sexuality, crime, and symbols of authority - so to answer the first part of your question, I would say the CCA was pretty similar to the Hays Code (in part because Charles F. Murphy, who drew it up, was deeply unoriginal and basically cribbed off the Hays Code throughout).

However, there are also some significant areas of difference that have a lot to do with the unique circumstances of the 1950s moral panic over comics. See, in the 1950s, superhero comics were considered deeply uncool and old hat - they had been huge in the 40s during the war, but by the 50s the biggest genre in comics were horror, crime, and romance comics (with cowboy comics bringing up the rear). To quote myself from another post:

"This gave rise to a moral panic in the 1950s, although more accurately it was part of the larger moral panic over juvenile delinquency. The U.S Senate established a Juvenile Delinquency Subcommittee of the Judiciary Committee in 1953 to investigate the causes of juvenile delinquency and comics became a major target. While Wertham’s book is best known today for its assertions that Batman and Robin were teaching young boys to be gay and Wonder Woman was teaching young girls to be lesbians, the main focus of the Subcommittee [edit mine: and Wertham's academic work] was on horror and crime comics for their depiction of sex, violence, and “subversive” attitudes to law and order."

The CCA made it impossible to publish two of the most popular genres in the industry for a generation (the CCA relaxed its stance on horror stuff a bit in the 70s, which is why Marvel trend-chased werewolves and vampires the moment they could get away with it), which not only scrambled the medium (and potentially created space for the Silver Age of superhero comics to flourish) but drove the former titan EC Comics practically out of business. (Indeed, William Gaines of EC Comics believed that the CCA had been specifically worded to drive him out of business.)

So in some ways, the CCA was worse.

#subtexual judaism #cultural history #film history #hays code #comics #comics meta #comics code authority #cinema

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