#the blood of christ stop demonic forces

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 9)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

Warning: Character Death, and minor details of childbirth.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

“You’re glowing!”

You’d scoffed while watching as your body literally began to illuminate from the inside out.

“Well of course.” You’d snickered, looking from your hands to Lucifer. “Every mother does.” 

Your hand came up to clasp your mouth shut, but the Freudian slip was already out there. Lucifer stared at you and you stared back. 

Your lips wobbled and torso trembled until you could no longer hold it in and burst into laughter. Elation ran its course, and Lucifer joined you — laughing so hard that he slapped his knee. 

When you fell into his arms and let yourself be held, you imagined it would only be for a little while. This bizarro pregnancy had you on some kind of high, and all the worries and doubts that had been building up disappeared. 

—

You can’t remember for how long you’ve been walking but there’s discomfort in the soles of your feet. The landscape changes as soon as you truly behold it. 

The endless field of tall grass and the trees so tall they could touch the sky had been replaced by golden sand. You could feel its gentle heat on the ends of your toes. Beyond the sand is a gently rolling ocean, lilac beneath a honey gold sky as the sun has only just set. The sound of rhythmic, rushing water is so real and so close that you’re immediately calm. 

Memories flood your mind like a sneaker wave. You’re a child again, running away from the water as it laps at you. The shock of the cold water goes away quickly and you want to follow the pebbles and seashells that drift back out with the retreating tide. 

You look back, away from the sea, and see the blonde woman behind you. You grin. 

She’s wistful. 

It stamps down on your joy. The air is salty and wet blowing through your hair and inhaled through your nostrils. You want to speak, but you can’t think of a thing to say. 

“I wish this was goodbye.” Her voice carries above the waves, muffling them until they’re nothing but a dull roar. 

—

You awoke to the sensation of falling and seized in your bed. Lucifer startled beside you. He’d been sleeping wrapped around your belly; a compromise to laying perpendicular to you so that he could continue talking to the soccer-player in your stomach. 

He or she had not stopped moving since they decided to make it known that they were, in fact, not dead.

(You’d chided the baby for that, and for doubling in size in less than two week’s time, much to Lou’s amazement:

“Hell isn’t ready to be ruled by two speed demons.” You’d deadpanned.)

“Huh?” He grabbed you without thought. “What—”

Movement erupted from deep down in your core, muscles clenching and unclenching quickly, forcing you to seize again. 

“I think I’m — ugh!” You gritted your teeth. “—I’m going into labor.” 

Lucifer doesn’t do anything for a long moment. 

Then he flew into a panic before you could say ‘Jesus Christ!’. 

—

The hallway outside illuminated with the sheer brilliance of your body, literally glowing. It hadn’t stopped since it started, only a few weeks ago. Fortunately, the glow was tied to an almost paralyzing euphoria. It was the kind of delight that turned your blood into gold while racing through your body. The kind that kept you from complaining that you’d become Tinkerbell.  

“Steady. I’ve got you!” Lucifer assured whilst trudging over the carpet with you in his arms. 

An influx of pain rippled through you for the first time, providing distraction from the mortification you might’ve felt in that position. It hasn’t escaped your notice that the Prince of Darkness was a shortstack. Your brain had a hard time accepting that for as small as he appeared, Lucifer was capable of unimaginable feats of strength and endurance. 

So, you didn’t think about it. Instead you focused on breathing in and out deeply as your partner kicked at the front door of your neighbors’ apartment with the toe of his boot. 

As if waiting at the door, Warren Farrow appeared from behind the polished wood. His expression was of minute surprise, but within seconds he was turning back and calling for his wife.

Lucifer managed to pivot the two of you into the Farrow home. Warren guided you with an unusual vigor in his step, as though he were a man decades younger. 

“We’ve had it set up for weeks now, Sir.” Warren said gravely. 

Through the convulsions, you observed the inlet that Lucifer had taken you into. It was like a roomy closet, covered in tapestries and littered with candles of all shapes and colors. 

Warren’s wife was flitting about, quickly lighting the pitch-black surroundings until you could see the mere outline of things. 

You were drawn to the center of the crowded room, where a humble white cot covered in white towels contrasted everything else.

It occurred to you then that this entire pregnancy had been a shit show, not the least bit because you’d never gone to any OB. You hadn’t checked in with any hospital, or stepped foot in one — how could you? 

Therefore, any  and all “check-ups” you’d had had come from your creepy neighbors with their tea and their scrutinizing questions and their buzzard-like stares.

You’d consoled yourself throughout with the brief, semi-serious talk with Mrs. Farrow three months into gestation.

“What? Were you a midwife or something?” You asked incredulously. 

“Yes, honey.” Cass had patted your hand like you were a simpleton. “I helped deliver babies for over 15 years. I was younger than you were when I first started!” 

You had stared. ‘Oh god, how many crazy cultists are actually nurses in disguise?’

“Here we go, all set. You can lay her down here.” Cassie came over brusquely, smoothing over the wrinkles in the cot before Lucifer put you down. 

He laid you on the sheets, light as a feather, jarring as you felt your belly weigh you down. The King didn’t go far, reluctant to let go of your hand. You held on like a vice as well, gripping and squeezing with each contraction. 

You felt pinches in and around your abdomen, but the pain was… off. It came not from true agony, but the overworking of your internal organs in contrast to the pleasantness that you embodied post-glow stick phase. 

Hearing childbirth horror stories all your life, and just the horrors of raising children in general, you expected to be screaming and thrashing. 

This wasn’t as bad as some of your past periods had been. What’s worse than that, however, is the unnecessary guilt you feel for how troublesome it isn’t. 

—

Lucifer struggled to remain in one spot as the urge to pace up and down the cramped little birthing room ate at him. 

He didn’t want to leave you — not that his two hosts would dare make him, regardless of tradition — but old habits die hard. He was fidgeting, putting all his weight on one foot then the other. 

You were his exact opposite, laying placid and relaxed on the birthing bed, eyeing the little room. Microexpressions flitted across your face, some of confusion and some of hurt, but aside from your firm grasp on his hand, and the occasional grunt, you may as well have been dozing off. 

Eventually you glanced at him. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” You asked calmly. 

Lucifer tried to laugh but it came out like a strangled wheeze. “Nahhh, this is fine. I’m fine. Are you fine? I mean I know you’re not fine, but can I do something? Whatever you need, I can get it for you!” 

His rambling ends with you bopping him between the eyes teasingly. “You’re silly.” 

It’s inexplicable, but Lucifer’s mood lightened at your mellow admonishment. He meets your warm, drowsy expression with an adoring smile of his own. 

“I am.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re an angel to put up with it.” 

A too-loud rasp interrupted the soft moment of nothing but affection and kisses. Cass was standing at the foot of your cot, hands on each of your knees as she kept your legs apart. 

“Get ready, honey. You’re on your way.” She hailed. 

–

A cry split through the air and it went straight to your heart. 

You gulp down air (Lucifer mimicking you without meaning to) with sweat pouring from your hairline. The lack of pain hadn’t meant a lack of effort, and you still felt like you’d run a marathon just to pass the little being currently wailing in Mrs. Farrow’s arms. 

“It’s a girl.” Mrs. Farrow declared.

There was no attempt to hide the sidelong glance she gave Mr. Farrow. The lines and grooves on the elderly man’s face deepened until he resembled a gnarled tree trunk.

“Hmm.” Was his reply, deep baritone rolling like thunder in the tiny room. 

Vehement indignance blazed to life inside your mind when the old man looked at you, critical and disappointed. You felt like tearing him and the rest of this old, tacky room to shreds. Yet, exhaustion had planted its roots deep inside of you, and all you could do was glare at the old couple from your makeshift bed. 

‘Why does it fucking matter?’

“Gimme my kid.” You growled.

As if to piss you off further, Cass ignored you in favor of wiping the baby clean before passing her off to Lucifer. The old bat presented her to the King like she was a fallen bannerman’s sword, even curtsying while doing it. 

It was so weird that it brought you out of your anger for a second. 

Lucifer was clearly apprehensive, and his insecurity made the grand gesture stranger. He swallowed visibly, making eye contact with you when he couldn’t break away from the internal turmoil he was struggling with. 

“Bring her to me.” You demanded. Lucifer nodded vigorously, cocking a head toward you. 

It was fucking nonsensical, but at last Cass obeyed and brought you a bundle wrapped in silky black. 

The baby’s wailing tapered off as soon as she’d made contact with you. And like a child on Christmas morning, you shifted to sit up as much as you could and pry open the swaddling cloth. 

You sniffled. 

All at once, the breath caught in your throat and your eyes welled up with tears.

The newborn was as flagrant as her father in terms of skin tone and hair. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes but already you could see none other than a spitting image of Lucifer himself. Right down to the rosy apple cheeks that made up her pudgy little face. 

You were a little surprised to see that she had a nose. A little black smudge, puppy-like - anomalous like the little growths on her forehead and the itty bitty spade on the tip of her wagging tail. 

She was perfect. 

“I think she’s a Charlotte.” You manage to tear your eyes away from the miraculous hellspawn in your arms just long enough to search Lucifer’s golden gaze. “What do you think?” 

His Majesty is a whimpering mess beside you. “Y-yeah. That’s perfect.” 

Peeling the blanket back just that much more, you lean toward him. It takes a little coaxing, but sure enough Lucifer traces a delicate claw over the child’s tiny brow. 

“Hello Charlotte.” He whispered. “We’re so happy you’re here.” 

Adoration overwhelmed you, nigh on visible like the air was tinged with its color, its scent, its warmth cocooning the three of you. 

Daddy, Mommy and baby. A strange but happy little family. 

Lou embraced the two of you, hiding his face, and subsequent weeping, in the side of your neck while your baby cooed. 

The background chants of ‘Hail Princess Charlotte’ and ‘Hail King Lucifer’ were, thankfully, not enough to ruin the moment. 

Nothing could. Until. 

It doesn’t dawn on you that anything is wrong when the glow has faded. It’s only the incidental look at your fingers, with Charlotte’s tail curled around them, that freezes you. Numbness then began to crawl up your body, as if waiting for the moment that you’re brain would connect the dots. The copper scent of blood made your nostrils flare and heart hammer.

Fear clutched at you in an instant. “Take her. Take the baby.” 

Your desperate hiss and barely-there shuffle to push Charlotte into Lucifer’s arms fully had his face falling. 

“W-wai-wh-What’s happening?” He asked, panic rising. 

Mrs. Farrow is prompt, crone’s face scrunched and nose prominent as if she could sniff out the issue. She’s stood at the end of the bed, already lifting the sheets off your body before you can seek her out. 

A stiff hand appears over the covers, covered in shiny dark claret. “She’s bleedin’ too much.” 

Lucifer’s eyes blazed from where he hovered. “Why?”

The elderly woman was ready to shrug, but she stalled. Perhaps out of fear. “It happens, your Grace. Birthing a baby takes a toll on the mother, sometimes it’s too much.”

“Then why are you just standing there?”Lucifer bared his fangs, ivory in the lowlight. His eyes were a haze of vermillion, so opaque that you couldn’t find his pupils or the soul inside. “Help her!” 

The truly demonic scrape of his vocal chords frightened you, as did the sudden appearance of tusk-like horns protruding from his skull and the fire coming to life between them. His beautiful skin marred and stretched and cracked as if his form were a prison barely containing the true beast within. 

Energy crackled in the air, heat rising to blow back your hair and dry the air from your lungs like a flung-open kiln. The breath was stolen from your lungs as ivory wings shot out and overtook what little space was left in the alcove. 

Reality was literally distorting around Lucifer’s warped rage. 

Mr. Farrow, for all his reticence, reached for his wife’s shoulder from within your line of sight. 

“Lucifer.” You hissed, bearing the brunt of his inhuman stare when he turned to you. It took real energy to speak. “I need you… the baby…”

It didn’t take anymore prodding for the blond to intercept your daughter once your desperation got through to him. The Devil slowly shifted back, revealing the depth of his fear in the cloudless turn of his gaze. He met you halfway - finally - and pulled Charlotte close to his chest.

A pang of thankfulness made laughter bubble up from your diaphragm. It hurt. Everything hurt again.

“Stop. Wait.” Lucifer begged, voice turned to ice. Fragile, cracking. His natural white glow had dimmed significantly like a cooling star. “This isn’t— I promised you this wouldn’t happen! This can’t happen!”

A shudder ran through you. 

“Hey.” You lifted a hand and placed it on his pale cheek, thumb brushing over where white met red. “Nothing… for it now.” 

“No, don’t, that’s… No.” His agony was so palpable, as his fury had been. 

“You’re gonna be a great dad.” You murmured. 

Lucifer bowed over the side of the bed with Charlotte snug against him. You could feel the warmth of his breath, and then the splash of his tears against your cheek as he broke down. You felt it deep in your bones, and the lump in your throat that choked you. 

“Not without you.” He said. “I can’t do this without you.”

A pained smile was your response. Vision a-blur. Cotton tongue.  

“You… will.”

Lucifer shook his head fiercely. “I promised you. I swore I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I can’t… I can’t...” 

“Please. Please don’t — ” Anguish turned Lucifer’s once melodic voice into broken notes. “Don’t leave us. Please, please, please.” 

His sobs intermingled with Charlotte’s whimpering. She fussed as she was woken from her doze by the growing, tangible urgency. You wished you could calm both of them. Take them in your arms and make it all go away, promise that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Please. Please. Please.” The word fell from the Devil’s mouth like a prayer. 

You wondered if he really was praying. Praying to his Father. 

It broke your heart. 

The candlelight around you was getting brighter as the rest of your surroundings grew dark. Lucifer, as brilliant as he was, lingered somewhere in between. You squinted when his features began to fuse together in your mind. It did little to help, as large, dark shadows blotted out the corners of your sight. 

Charlotte was bawling and you fought to open your eyes again. You hadn’t realized they’d closed. 

You were so tired. The will to rise up and comfort your baby was dwindling. Everything had succumbed to a thin stream of light in a sea of darkness. 

With a breath, and another Herculean effort, you opened your eyes again. 

White blinded you. 

And then you were nothing.

***

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[cl3fairyyy]

hide and seek || edward nashton / the riddler x fem reader (nsfw !) ⋆｡𖦹°‧★

summary || your sex life recently with edward has been non existent. with him being so focused on his plans for gotham, you have found your needs being neglected. you decide to take initiative and plan a fun game for edward while he's at work.

warnings || SMUT!! there is plot but this is pretty much straight up porn lol. reader and edward role-play a kidnapping scenario but everything is consensual!! slapping, restraints, degradation, light knife play, overstimulation, p in v, pussy eating, choking, hunting(?kind of?), (fake) threats of violence, mentions of stalking, the suit stays ON during sex, some weird purity/ corruption stuff in this idk i think a demon possessed me halfway through writing this. minors please do not interact!!

word count || 4k i did not mean for it to be this long oopsie!!

notes || i haven't written smut in a LONG time so i am so sorry if this is straight up garbage pls go easy on me. recently reread year one and im seriously going insane the hyperfixation is so back guys. i love writing edward so much especially when it comes to writing some nasty porn about him LOL. i srsly had no idea how to end this so its kinda bad sorry D:

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

In recent months, you have found yourself growing increasingly frustrated. For the longest time, you haven’t had the faintest idea of what has been causing this, and that has caused it to manifest itself in various ways throughout your everyday life. You have found yourself much more easily annoyed by the most minor inconveniences, and have had repeated warnings at work to stop arguing with customers over the pettiest of matters. 

One afternoon in late November, whilst attempting to share in your boyfriend’s body heat on the sofa of your freezing living room, watching the news and listening to him ramble about finally ‘revealing the truth,’ it hits you. 

Edward hasn’t fucked you in months. 

Even before this change, you didn’t have the most active sex life- you were both too busy holding down your day jobs whilst simultaneously investigating the corruption poorly concealed beneath Gotham’s cobbled streets. Still, you’d find the time every other week or so to take care of each other. 

You love having sex with Edward; he’s so gentle with you, handling you like a precious gem that will shatter if dropped. He always makes sure your needs are met before he even thinks of himself, worshipping your body with an obsession akin to a deeply faithful Catholic’s love for Christ himself.  

But sometimes... it can get boring. Not as boring as not having sex at all, but boring enough that you often find yourself lying awake at night, longing for Edward to keep up his Riddler persona for just a little while longer after he arrives home from doing whatever he does to have the coppery scent of blood soaking into the walls of your small apartment. 

You know your frustration will only worsen the longer you go without having sex, so you decide to do a small experiment. 

You take the next few days off work, pretending to be sick, and Edward, usually ever attentive to your every need, your Edward, who begins panicking if you all but sniffle the wrong way, barely notices. With your theory proven that his work has been turning him into someone who is evidently not your sweet Edward, you begin doing everything you can for even an ounce of attention from him. You give him shoulder massages after he returns home from a long day at work, cook him his favourite meals, run baths for him, at some point it evolves into you all but throwing yourself at him, and you have to take a step back to reevaluate your approach. Being that desperate for sex is not a good look, especially when your boyfriend is completely oblivious to how horny you are.  

You decide you need to formulate a plan to force him to focus on you. 

It starts with the lingerie. You scour the shopping apps on your phone for an embarrassingly long time, trying to find something perfect. You eventually come across a pretty lilac set, its sheer mesh bra framed with soft ruffles and feminine frills to accentuate your chest, and immediately order it, even begrudgingly spending a little extra for next day delivery. 

The next step of your plan is to come up with a simple puzzle, something stimulating but still to the point- you're so horny that you know the next time you’re in a room with Edward while he still has that Riddler costume on, it’s going to take some real self-restraint to stop yourself from ripping it off him.  

The final step of your plan is waiting for the perfect moment to put everything into action. You realise it isn’t the most complicated or glamorous scheme to ever exist, but if it manages to work and allows you to finally get some action, you won’t be complaining.  

One evening, when it’s well past 5pm, and definitely well past the time Edward should have been home from the office, you get a text from your beloved. 

hi honey, moved tuesday’s plans forward to today. got an opening with savage and cant miss it. will be home late- ill pick up food on my way back. love you. 

we’re finally making some REAL change : ) 

You almost leap out of your chair with excitement, rushing around the apartment to make sure everything is in place for your little game of hide and seek. 

When Edward finally returns home, the apartment is dark- it’s well past 11pm, so he figures you’re in bed. He sighs, setting down the takeaway bag on the coffee table and calling out your name, pausing when you don’t answer. You always wait up for him when he’s running his late-night ‘errands.’ When he thinks about it more, he realises you didn’t even text him back earlier this evening; you’ve been sick, too- what if you collapsed, or had complications, or worse?  

Before he can begin panicking, he finally notices the lit candle on the kitchen counter. Next to it is a piece of paper, which Edward gingerly picks up with shaking hands, reading the five words scrawled across it. 

‘Dear Riddler, 

Come find me.’ 

Confusion clouds Edward’s mind for a moment before he realises that he’s reading your handwriting, and the sweet flowery scent giving him a headache is his favourite perfume of yours. He stands still for a moment, rereading the note as the familiar feeling of want begins to curl in his lower belly. You’ve never actually addressed him as the Riddler before. 

He definitely likes it. 

You crouch uncomfortably in your hiding space beneath the dining table, straining your ears against the silence of the apartment as you try to gauge how Edward has taken your little game based off his breathing. You hear the rustling of fabric and the sound of something zipping up, and realise he must’ve slipped his jacket and mask back on because his breaths are definitely muffled now.  

He begins taking slow, deliberate steps around the apartment, his combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floorboards as he does so. You suddenly feel very vulnerable in only your undergarments and wonder if this is how his victims must feel, a thrill tingling deliciously up your spine. 

You shift a little in your spot, trying to find a way to crouch comfortably while also remaining out of sight. Your heart pounds so hard in anticipation of being spotted that you’re sure Edward can hear it, especially when his footsteps begin to head towards your hiding spot.  

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the sound of your breathing to an absolute minimum; the silence in your apartment is deafening and, for the first time in all the years you have known him, you begin to feel almost weary of Edward’s presence. In this moment, you’re not just Edward’s partner. 

You’re his prey. 

So wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t hear Edward’s footsteps behind you. You feel two strong, gloved hands grab your hips and rip you out of your thoughts. You squeal giddily as Edward throws you onto the wooden dining table, biting your lip to stifle the giggles that threaten to spill out. 

Edward looms over you, his glasses glinting in the moonlight that seeps into the apartment through the cracks in the blinds. He is completely silent, save for the heavy breaths muffled by his mask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and raspy, and the sound of it sends tiny shivers of excitement up your arms. 

“I’ve been watching you for so long. Every move you make, I’ve followed from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch you up. Do you know how hard it’s been? Hearing your pathetic whimpers while you fuck yourself every night, and having to wait until it’s me making you unravel? But now I have you here, all to myself, and no one is around to save you.” 

The sight of him like this, so indescribably large compared to you, looking down on you like a lion that has captured its prey and is about to rip it to shreds- it sends sparks of arousal through you that pool in your sheer underwear. You look up at Edward through your eyelashes, smiling innocently. 

“Looks like you caught me.” 

With that, he drags you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he heads towards your bedroom. Your face burns, unsure of when or how he got so strong, and the anticipation of what he is about to do to you sends tingles of delight down your spine. 

Edward throws you carelessly onto the bed before straddling you. He wordlessly grasps your wrists in one gloved hand, holding them above your head while he rips off a piece of duct tape from the roll that dangles from his belt, and binds them together securely. He subtly tilts his head to the side, and you can read him so well at this point that you know he’s asking if your restraints are too tight. You shake your head, and he immediately melts back into character, sweeping his gaze down your exposed body predatorily.  

His gloved hands reach forward, roughly groping your breasts, pinching and rolling your clothed nipples between his fingers. You squeak, writhing beneath him, deciding to put on a bit of a show with it. 

“P... please, don’t...” you whimper pathetically, bucking your hips into his. You hear him groan under his breath above you, removing one hand from your chest to grip your chin harshly, squishing your cheeks together. “Shut up.” His voice is low and dangerous when he speaks, a complete contrast to the sweet voice Edward usually addresses you with. “You’re trapped here, and no one is coming for you. You can scream as loud as you want, it won’t make a difference.” 

“You’re so pitiful, dressed up like one of those whores on the street just to get my attention.” He breathes out slowly, slipping a gloved finger beneath your bra to massage your nipple. “I can’t say it hasn’t worked, but a whore is still a whore. You need to be cleansed, like the rest of the filth in this city, and the only person willing to do that is me. That’s why,” he pauses, the hand gripping your chin roughly yanking your mouth open as he leans over you, pulling up his mask slightly and spitting in your mouth, “you will take everything I give to you like a grateful little bitch.” 

He slaps your face, hard enough to sting but not enough to bruise, and you swallow the mixture of your saliva and his. You can’t stop the moan that slips out from between your parted lips, and he locks eyes with you, his pupils blown so wide with arousal that his eyes appear completely black in the low light. He leans forward again, pulling up his mask, and harshly kisses you, pushing his tongue into your mouth as his knee forces your legs apart. You whimper when you feel his erection brush against your thigh and he bites down on your bottom lip, hard. He moves his focus to your neck and collarbones, attacking the sensitive skin with kisses and bites, marking every inch of you that’s visible. 

“This is so,” he murmurs breathlessly between fervent kisses to your skin- and, Christ, is he smelling you?- “everyone knows you were fucked by the Riddler. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For everyone to know that you’re such a whore that getting fucked by a serial killer gets that pathetic cunt of yours completely soaked.” You moan at his words, arching your back to press your chest against his as you grind against his knee. 

“Such a needy little thing. One touch from me and you’re already at my complete disposal.” He leans back on his heels to look over you, your hair a complete mess, your lips swollen and as red as the flush on your skin. The strap of your bra has slipped down your shoulder and Edward’s breaths become haggard as he reaches for the knife on his belt; he cuts away the fabric hiding your breasts from him, much to your dismay (that lingerie set was pretty fucking expensive), and immediately takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before biting down lightly. You moan louder, squirming against your restraints and trying to pull away from him. 

He slaps you again, harder this time, running the flat side of his knife against the mark that begins blooming on your cheek. “If you don’t shut up and take it like a good girl, I'll have to hurt you.” He presses a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to ruin a face as pretty as yours.” 

You whimper, rubbing your clothed core against Edward’s thigh, feeling the arousal in your lower belly build from the stimulation. Edward certainly doesn’t miss this, his eyes widening slightly as he peels your underwear away from your pussy. A string of your own slick connects you to the mesh fabric, and you can hear the amusement in Edward’s voice when he says, “oh, I’m going to ruin you.” 

He cuts your underwear away, dragging his knife down your body painfully slowly. You shiver from the cool metal, whining from frustration when Edward’s gloved fingers spread your glistening folds, pointedly ignoring your throbbing clit. 

“You pathetic girl... so wet for me. No one else could get you to react like this from their words alone, could they?” You shake your head rapidly, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get closer to Edward’s fingers. “Say it, then.” He begins lazily rubbing circles into your clit, causing you to cry out with relief at him finally touching you. He runs the blunt end of his knife across your neck, twisting it in his hand so the tip presses into your skin, not quite breaching your flesh. “Nice and clear for me. Tell me that you’re my bitch.” 

You moan when he begins speeding up his movements on your clit, stumbling over your words. “I.. I’m your- your b-” He cuts you off with another slap to your cheek, and the action sends a sharp jolt of pleasure right to your clit, causing you to choke out a moan. “Not quite, pretty girl. Try again. Whose bitch are you?” Your eyes narrow with confusion for a second before you realise what he wants you to say. 

“I’m th- the Riddler’s bitch.” 

He nods, satisfied, pushing two gloved fingers inside of you while the other continues rubbing your clit. You can feel your orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast, whimpering and giving Edward a pleading look. 

He nods wordlessly and you unravel, your orgasm enveloping your body in a blissful warmth as your pussy clenches hard around Edward’s fingers. He breathes out through his nose, hard, as he watches you cum, his cock throbbing at the feeling of your pussy spasming around his fingers.  

Edward pulls his fingers out of you when your body finally finishes shaking, inspecting your wetness on them in the low light of your bedroom for several moments, before pushing them under his mask and sucking them clean. He moans at the taste of you, and you feel his dick twitching against your leg as he closes his eyes, savouring you. He sighs, opening his eyes. 

“I need more.” 

Before you can react, he’s gripping your waist with strong hands, dragging your body up against him, holding you up almost completely off the bed, and hooking your legs over his shoulders. Edward gazes at your drenched cunt with a hunger in your eyes that you've never seen displayed by him, his breaths deep and shaky as he smells the arousal leaking out of you. You squeak, thighs still quivering from your previous orgasm. 

“W-wait, Ed- Riddler, I... I’m still t-too sensitive for...” You cut yourself out with a cry of pained pleasure as he latches his mouth onto your pussy, pushing his tongue into your sensitive hole. You sob as he sucks on your clit, shocks of overstimulation wracking through you as you weakly kick your legs against him, your body growing limp. The sounds Edward makes as he devours your pussy are obscene, the room filling with echoes of your cries and Edward’s moans as he sucks and licks crudely at your sex. 

He pulls away occasionally, praising and degrading you in barely coherent pussydrunk babbles: “such a perfect girl for me,” “stupid bitch, such a needy whore for your savior,” “so pretty with mascara running down your face,” “any louder and I'll give you a real reason to cry,” “taste so good, i need all of you.” And it’s all so much, his tongue writhing so deep inside you, the grip of his hands on your ass, the cool leather biting into your flesh, the way he moans and ruts into the bed from the taste of you, and before you can even breathe you’re cumming again, and you’re cumming so hard your back lifts off the bed entirely, the strength of your orgasm rocking you all the way to your core. Your mind goes blank as a chain of choked moans and sobs spill from between your lips, all you can focus on being the way Edward continues to fuck you with his tongue all the way through your orgasm. You can feel your slick sliding down your thighs, and when Edward pulls away you can see it dripping down his chin, and you don’t miss the proud grin on his face as he pulls down his mask. 

He drops you back onto the bed, straddling you once more and wiping your slick from his chin with his finger, motioning for you to open your mouth. You obey him and he pushes the digit inside, motioning for you to suck it clean. When he pulls his finger from your mouth, his eyes darken, and you can practically feel the smug smile in his words. “Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you? No one can make you cum like I can... and I can still smell how horny you are for me. You’re so needy, yet you’re never satisfied.” 

He tilts his head, and the dim light from the lamp behind him illuminates him similarly to a halo, and you almost find yourself beginning to create a religion in your head just to worship him. 

“I don’t think you’re being very grateful.” 

You begin crying out words of thanks, rubbing your legs together to lessen the ache of overstimulation. Edward's knees cage you in, and he grips one of your thighs with his hands. 

“Quit your grovelling and stop fucking moving when I’m talking to you.” His hand travels to your face, cupping your cheek with a surprising tenderness as he sighs. “You’re still so filthy... look what this city has done to you. I suppose I’m your last hope.” 

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers, finally freeing his cock from its confines. The tip is an angry red and leaks with precum, and Edward lets out a breathy moan as he strokes it. He spreads your legs, lining himself up with your sex and pushing into you slowly. He gazes down at you, a complete mess beneath him, and groans. “You’re so lucky... being fucked by Gotham’s salvation...” 

You can barely think, let alone speak, and when Edward begins moving his hips, his thumb finding your clit and massaging it, you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks. He moves in and out of your agonisingly slowly, and when you look up at him, you can make out that his eyes are closed as he savours the feeling of you. 

“Your virgin pussy is so... so fucking tight. Oh... h-how does it feel to be fucked by your saviour? Your God?” 

You sniffle beneath him, choking on your sobs as he speeds up to a punishing pace, his cock bruising your insides. He grabs at every inch of you, his hands finding refuge around your throat. 

“Oh, you’re so good. You were so filthy, but I will cleanse you. I will purify you; I will plant the seed of hope within you, and you will be saved.” 

He babbles on as he fucks you, squeezing his fingers around your throat, verging on crushing your windpipe but never quite gripping hard enough. You cry out for him, so cockdrunk and lightheaded from your sudden lack of oxygen that you find yourself looping your bound wrists around his neck, pulling him forward and crashing your lips to the rough leather of his mask. He makes a noise of surprise before his fingers once again find your clit, rubbing at it desperately as his hips begin to stutter against your own. 

Edward, ever the gentlemen, wants you to cum before him; you feel your cheeks grow warm at the thought, and pull away to look at him. You can barely keep your focus on him, your vision going hazy, and he begins assaulting your clit with more fervor. 

“Be a good little angel and cum for your savior.” 

Your vision goes white as the orgasm rips through you, your entire body spasming as your pussy clenches down hard on Edward’s cock. He has to stop moving to prevent himself from cumming as he guides you through your own orgasm, his fingers weaving through your hair as he coos at you. 

“Yes, that’s it. Such a perfect girl. So pretty cumming on my cock.” 

He begins speeding up again, his hips slapping against yours with a clumsy rhythm, his breathy moans growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. You lay, exhausted, whimpering incoherent words of encouragement to him as he chases after his own climax. 

You feel him begin to pull out and you weakly wrap your legs around his hips. “W-want you inside. Need... need you to cleanse me from the inside.” 

Your words are what tip Edward over the edge, and he whimpers loudly as his cum spills inside you, his hips grinding into yours as he relishes in the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

Thank God you're on birth control.

Edward slowly pulls out of you and cuts the duct tape that binds you, gently pressing kisses to the insides of your wrists. He pulls off his fogged up glasses and his mask, placing a gentle kiss to your lips as he smiles at you worriedly. 

“I didn’t go too far, did I?” 

There's your lovely Eddie.

You shake your head, laughing weakly and he smiles, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he helps you to your feet and guides you to the bathroom, letting you use his body for support. Edward sits you on the lip of the bath and dampens a towel, gentle cleaning you up and placing loving kisses to every bare patch of skin he can reach. He reluctantly leaves you alone to freshen up as he straightens up the bed, changing into his pajamas and finding your favourite t shirt of his to sleep in. 

When you re-enter the bedroom, with a slight limp that Edward definitely notices but refuses to comment on, he dresses you and tucks you into bed before lying next to you, brushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“Sorry I’ve been so... distant lately.” 

When you go to answer him, he rubs his thumb soothingly on your cheek and you get the message that he hasn’t finished talking. 

“We have big things planned, we both know that, but... it wasn’t right of me to not look after you when, now that I look back at it, you really made it obvious that you needed me to. I hope you can forgive me.” 

You smile, pressing a shy kiss to Edward’s lips. 

“Don’t apologise, Eddie. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You can apologise tomorrow when I can’t feel my legs or sit down properly for a week.” 

He laughs and buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.  

“I really love you, you silly girl. A-and..."

He pulls away from you but continues to avert his gaze, his cheeks pink and a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

"The, um, th-the lingerie was very pretty, you looked really lovely. I'm, ah, sorry about..."

He doesn't meet your eyes and you snort, bringing a hand to rest on his cheek with a fond smile.

"Yeah. That I'm not so quick to forgive. You have no idea how expensive nice underwear is when you're a woman."

Edward laughs shyly, delicately holding your wrist and pressing tender kisses to your palm that leave you melting. The heat in his eyes, however, is undeniable.

"I absolutely will not complain if you decide to spend all my money on pretty lingerie and then decide to model said lingerie for me."

"You're unbelievable."

You both laugh as Edward continues peppering soft kisses up your arm, then your bruising neck before finally meeting your lips in a tender kiss. He pulls away, and the way he looks at you with such love and adoration almost makes you tear up.

Edward twirls a strand of hair around his finger, pulling you closer to his chest. His fingers reach up and he begins combing them through your hair properly, whispering sweet praise to you as you find yourself dozing off.

#dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #paul dano #riddler 2022 #riddler x you #batman 2022 #edward nashton x you #riddler x reader #danocel #danonation #dano!riddler #the riddler #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you

[wrathofrats]

Yeah hi idk what this is I blacked out and came to and this was in the docs

Uhhh basically ifrits first church service and communion as hosted by Omega and alpha

Or omega baptizes ifrit and alpha lets ifrit drink the blood of Christ from his cunt.

Major warnings for intense blasphemy, mockery of the Catholic Church, degradation and religious shaming.

Also alpha is trans because WHY NOT

Ok enjoy.

-

A strong stream of incense wafted into ifrits senses.

The thick air of dust and smoke invaded him, his vision and hearing feeling more cloudy than usual.

He knelt on the carpeted steps to the church stage. Omega standing a couple of feet in front of him and looking impossibly large at this angle.

“What do you ask the church for your summon?”

He doesn’t think he should be looking up. Omega looms directly over him, staring at alpha who sits behind him. He acts as some sort of guide, as some sort of owner of ifrit, like he’s in charge of him.

Ifrit truly cannot make out alphas answer, the words tumbling over his head. Only the low tone of alphas voice penetrates the anathemic fog that surrounds him.

“Are you willing and able to fulfill your duties to bring up your summon in the satanic faith?”

A cold draft creeps down ifrits back as alpha moves to sit next to omega. He doesn’t look at his summon, he stares only up at his own form of deity. The shadows cast across his face make him more demonic, more monstrous than usual.

He reaches down and puts his wrist to alphas mouth, forcing him to sink his fangs into the rich vein of liquid. Omega serving as some metaphor for the word of their lord, his existence meant to praise someone higher but forced down with his own hands being covered in blood.

A warm wet thumb swipes across his forehead. Omega using the blood that drips down his wrist to mark him with the sign of the cross. It’s comforting in a horrific way. The warm sinister smiles of the church combined with the macabre comfort of the blood dripping down his face.

Ifrit thinks he too would bleed for the church if it held him tight like this.

“Do you renounce god and all of his empty promises?” Omega holds his book high with one hand, the other reaching down to unbutton the pants of his uniform. He’s already hard, a true testament to his devotion and love. It’s admirable.

Ifrits hand plaster together in front of him. “Yes father”

“Do you believe in the almighty father, the creator of the earth and all its demonic beings?”

A drop of precum beads at the head of omegas cock, long thick strokes milking himself of the holy liquid. Ifrit truly can’t help but stick out his tongue, desperate for a taste of their sick purity.

The book snaps shut. A screaming echo in the old room. Alpha doesn’t look up in fear of what has angered omega, ifrit being the antithesis and staring his leader in the eye in confusion.

“You’d think you’d know better from the pits. Rotten children don’t deserve to be saved”

The moisture leaves the fire ghouls mouth. He’s confused, scared, ashamed for being so greedy.

“You’re disgusting, I’ve let a sinful being kneel in front of me, offered to cleanse you of your blasphemous ways and you’ve repaid my kindness by being a greedy whore?”

“Father I’m sorry please forgive me-“ ifrits stammers out his apology through forming tears. Omega words cut deep through his devotion and lets it bleed through him, taking over his need to be.

“I hope your knees are raw. I pray you repent”

The book opens again and omega scans it for the place he stopped, continuing to stroke himself just above ifrits face.

He can’t tell when he becomes close, the act of masturbation only serving as a ritual to please his higher lord.

“There is no god that can give you your purity back”

Omega cums hot and thick across ifrits face and chest. Ropes of holy water landing on his cheeks, blessing him, baptizing him of his former demonic ways from the pit. He can feel the sin lift from his skin and burn with the holy liquid.

A rough sleeve wipes ifrits eyes, tilting his chin to smile at him.

“You’ve done well, you may savor the blood and body of Christ now as a child of the dark church”

The unmistakable sound of someone undressing comes from behind omega. Alpha rids himself of his clothing as omega slots behind him, both still perched on the carpeted stage and stairs. Candles and golden objects surround him like his own altar, his own ritual of body and blood.

Alpha opens his legs with a push from omega, hairy thighs leading up to his cunt, shining and on display. His clit engorged with devotion and peaking through his folds. Omega picks up a golden chalice, holding it high above his head, the other hand spreading alpha for ifrit to see.

“Through him, with him and in him, in the unity of the dark spirit, all glory and honor is yours almighty, forever and ever”

“Amen”

Omega tips the chalice over alphas chest, letting the red wine trickle down his body to pool between his legs. It stains his skin a crimson red, a stream from the top of his neck to his thighs. No doubt some kind of blood lain metaphor

“You may take your first communion my ghoul”

Ifrit doesn’t hesitate, dives between alpha legs to lap up the wine from his cunt, sucking the sweet liquid from his t dick. Alphas slick mixes delicately with the blood of Christ. His smoky musk catering the bitter sweet taste of the intoxicating alcohol. Ifrit truly cannot tell what he’s more drunk off of. The wine or the devotion he feels to his own lord.

#hey idk what the fuck this is either #I’m sorry #no I’m not #actually….. #anyways I did so much research for this #be so fucking certain of what this is before you read it jfc #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #ifrit ghoul

[h50europe]

MERTHUR - BLOODLUST (a Merthur AU where Merlin is a vampire and a sorcerer, living under a roof with Arthur, who knows about his secrets. The prince left the family castle after a fallout with his father, who hates all supernatural creatures. Uther let his demon hunters terrorize the entire town. The friendship between the prince and the vampire stems from the night Arthur left the castle. Wasted, he ended up in a dark alley, where he would almost get killed by a bunch of werecreatures if it weren't for Merlin, who protected him and took him in until he sobered up. Since that night, they have looked after each other and tried to deal with their growing feelings for each other.)

"Holy Christ, you are bleeding!" Worried, Arthur dropped to his knees beside Merlin, who groaned as he applied pressure to the nasty gash in Merlin's side. Not because of the pain, but Arthur smelled delicious. Merlin's eyes focused on the throbbing vein in his friend's neck. Merlin wanted nothing more than to grab him by his silky blond hair and drag his throat to his mouth. Merlin's jaw ached as his fangs snapped free. Arthur's eyes widened. Of course he knew his friend was a vampire. Only, until today he'd never seen him like this. Usually, Merlin was a master in disguising his true identity.

Merlin felt his undead life draining from him as he cast a pleading look at his friend. "Please help me inside."

"Merlin, I..."

"Please."

Arthur never did what Merlin asked, and Merlin never said please. So that was a night of firsts. Arthur's heartbeat thundered in his chest as he grabbed him under his armpits to drag him over the threshold. Merlin could hear it but also smelled the blond's angst.

"Tell me what to do," Arthur said, ready to pull up his sleeve. Another first.

God, this man would die for him. Merlin shook his head. "I would kill you my noble friend in my current state, because you can't stop me from drinking. I would drain you to the very last drop." Shame barely broke through his thirst, as he licked his lower lip, teasing the tip of his fangs with his tongue. "There is blood in the freezer," Merlin whispered.

On his way to the kitchen Arthur almost tripped over his own feet. The artificial glow of the freezer light illuminated his silhouette that was wrapped in a cloud of condensation. Merlin's vision blurred. The next thing he knew, Arthur was shoving a bag of blood into his face. Every instinct in his undead body screamed to drag Arthur down and suck him dry. God, he smelled delicious, the warmth emanating from his body was more than tempting. Compared to his friend the packaged blood smelled like garbage.

Merlin tried to lift his arms. Due to the loss of blood his limbs disobeyed him. Humiliation paired with relief burned in Merlin's chest.

"Sorry, you have to feed me."

Raising one eyebrow, Arthur took the bag of blood, twisted the cap, and placed the nozzle in Merlin's mouth. Starving, Merlin closed his lips over it and also Arthur's fingers and sucked greedily. At the first burst of blood on his tongue, his hands shot up and he grabbed Arthur's wrists like a lifeline, forcing him into a half crouch as he swallowed. Merlin felt the energy flooding back into his body, counteracting the paralyses caused by the immense loss of blood. He didn't realize he was still sucking Arthur's fingers until the blond tried to pull his hand out of the crushing grip.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered, releasing his friend as his sanity returned.

Arthur sat back on his heels. He looked at his hands, unable to meet Merlin's gaze.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" he asked before clenching his jaw, still not looking at the vampire.

Merlin sat up slowly and tugged the ruined vest and shirt out of the way to watch his wound closing. The torn skin changed its color from black to pink and finally white. The scar was barely visible and would have disappeared in a few hours.

"Obviously someone wanted me dead."

"Care to elaborate?" Arthur kept digging.

"I got stabbed by one of your father's man. One of those useless vampire hunters." Merlin made a dismissive gesture.

"How in the world did he know you were a ..."

Arthur trailed off, the unspoken word hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles. To this day, Arthur had never uttered the word vampire in Merlin's presence. Merlin couldn't tell if it was denial or fear that kept him from saying it. Either way, it hurt.

"I bit him."

Arthur's brows shot up to his hairline. "I beg your pardon. You did what? But you told me you don't bite people."

"Well, in his case ... He asked me to," Merlin clarified. Trying not to be insulted as Arthur leaned away from him. Because he didn't want Arthur to see the hurt look on his face, Merlin climbed to his feet, holding on to the wall to keep himself upright. His head swam.

Arthur remained kneeling in front of him. His hands were on his knees. It shouldn't have been sexy, but damn if he didn't look like a servant, his blond unruly hair tickling his forehead, his full lips slightly parted. If he wanted he could unbutton the fly of Merlin's trousers, slide his fingers into the crease of Merlin's boxers and wrap those sinful lips around his...

Merlin shook his head, banishing the bloodlust. Arthur wasn't interested in Merlin sexually, and the vampire decided not to act on his silly crush. He was relieved when Arthur finally stood and walked into the kitchen to toss the empty blood bag into the bin and wash his hands. Any distance he put between them was a blessing.

"Why in the world would anyone ask to be bitten?" Arthur tried to sound curious. Only, the tension in his shoulders betrayed his disgust.

"Because it feels good," Merlin offered.

Arthur gave him a skeptical look in return. "Seriously?"

Merlin snorted, "Dear friend, you are doing a helluva job making me feel like a monster. But then thinking about how easy it had been to tear this asshole apart, I probably deserve to feel like one."

"You could have enchanted him," Arthur suggested.

"Nope. Not with the amount of vervain in his system. I could smell the stank of it. Unfortunately, too late."

Arthur dropped the dish towel next too the sink.

"I don't get it. How could being bitten something worth craving for?"

Merlin sighed. Was he really about to have the vampire equivalent of "the talk" with his oblivious flatmate? Merlin approached Arthur. The moment their eyes locked, the vampire knew that, yes, that was exactly what he was going to do. To be continued...

#colin morgan #bradley james #arthur pendragon #merthur au #merlin au #vampires #missing merlin #merlin forever #merthur fanfic #rated r #my manips #my edits #digitalart #coverart

[counter-culture-christian]

Firstly, I am a woman, in my late twenties and in a relationship to clarify that. Secondly, listen this blog is not for everybody, not everybody will agree with what I have to say or what I believe in and that's okay; I'm not going to force that on you but don't mistake me answering you from a frame of reference that is biblical, scriptural as me "proselytizing" because I've observed those who want to start debates and can't handle when I use the Scripture against them and reject it as an answer. Well I am believer and follower of Jesus Christ/His teachings, His ways (a Christian) and I'm standing on the Word of God. The Word of God, has and still is considered "controversial", "bigoted", "hateful" etc. because those in disbelief get cut by the Sword of The Spirit, which is God's Word and because it lives, it is useful for many things. The Word of God is considered a weapon in the spiritual armor of God and as a Christian, I recognize my fight isn't against flesh and blood, so I fight in the Spirit when I use the Word of God and the demons in those people get manifested when the truth gets shared. I am a Christian, a Bible reading, believer and strive to be a doer as well. I am going to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ as the Holy Spirit leads, not only that but I will speak on certain things that people won't like me speaking on. I will shed light on that darkness, as I am a light of Christ Jesus. I will not stop sharing the Truth and telling people to repent. I will edify, encourage and let people (who are willing to receive it) know that there is a Way to Heaven as well as I will let them know there's a Way to be freed from the bondages of sin, to be healed, cleansed and forgiven and it's ONLY through Christ Jesus. I will speak to those willing to receive and listen, telling them that there's Life (eternally) and even now on earth because life with Jesus is better than it was without (and that's just from personal experience). Life with Christ Jesus, as a Christian has it's trials because He said if the world hates you, remember it hated me first but He also said be of good cheer, I HAVE OVERCOME THE WORLD. Nevertheless life with Christ Jesus also has its joys, peace, laughter, blessings, love, and much more that outweighs the trials. I am grateful to be with Christ Jesus, there is VICTORY WITH HIM, IN THIS LIFE AND THE NEXT. My ask is open for those who want to ask or tell me something, you're welcome to message me but I reserve the right to respond/when to respond. Lastly, so, my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, continue in this marathon, continue standing firm in your faith (in Christ Jesus) and the Word of God. Embody the love and light of His, and share the Gospel (without forcing or in anger/hatred) for those who receive it is because God has drawn them to Christ Jesus and for those who don't, that's their choice and it's on them, shake the dust off your sandals and move on. I love y'all with the love of the Lord and mistake not that love for hatred when I rebuke you or such, for many spirits (who are deep in their darkness) will cry hatred, etc. Be blessed y'all ✝️🤍.

#christianity #jesus christ #christian #christblr #god #jesus #christian faith #spiritual enlightment #faith in jesus #god's word #christian blog

[raineandsky]

#74

The priest was never one for romance, not really. He’d never really understood how people could get so entangled in other people’s lives. He hadn’t understood, at least, until he’d found someone to get caught up in.

He’s spent the last two years slowly understanding it. Oh, yes, he thinks every so often, between the moments of bliss and joy, I get it now.

Life since then has been a whirlwind of his lover’s making, dragging him along for the ride in a flurry of laughter and kindness. No one’s shown him kindness like this before. He’s come to understand how it’s so easy to trip and fall into love. He’s tripped a fair few times by now, and he’s stopped trying to catch himself.

His days have been stretching out at the church, to both of their dismay. So he knows that his arrival home, three hours earlier than usual, will be a much needed surprise for his lover and a much needed evening off for himself.

He lets the front door announce his return, a grin already stretching across his face. “I got off early!” he tells the entrance hall. “Gosh, we can actually spend some time together.”

The sound of ceramics smashing from the living room. The priest jolts, his blood suddenly running cold. His feet are moving before he can think of what to do, carrying him to the living room doorway and unable to hold back the horrified gasp at what he finds.

His hands fumble for the cross hanging at his neck. The thing in his living room is scrambling for the window. Wings beat the air erratically, claw marks sinking into the wood of the windowsill. Ashen skin drapes over the demon’s body. The priest holds the cross out like a lifeline, his hands shaking. It feels like his entire life has led up to eradicating one of these things.

“T–The power of Christ compels you!” he cries at it, and it’s only when the thing snaps its head towards him that his heart truly stops.

This thing, this demon, is wearing the face of his lover.

His grip is white-knuckled on his cross. It sank slightly in the horror of the moment, but he straightens it back out at the demon when he realises. The demon hasn’t moved from his spot at the window. Not running away, not trying to pounce. Just watching him quietly. “The power of Christ—”

“Darling,” he says in his lover’s voice, and something of a choked sob escapes the priest’s throat.

“The– The power—”

“Darling,” he says with more emphasis. He turns from the window and the priest takes an unconscious step back. “Don’t be like this.”

His mind is on a single-track right now. “The power of Christ—”

“That won’t work on me, darling.”

The priest pauses at that. He’s vaguely aware of the warm trails of tears on his face, of how this thing is purposely affecting him, but it doesn’t matter. He can worry about crying later. “W–What?”

“I’m not a demon.”

The priest almost laughs at that. He pushes the cross towards the demon for emphasis, and the other’s gaze turns to it lazily, almost bored.

“Go on,” he urges, “try again.”

It doesn’t feel right for the demon to be beckoning him into it, but he has no other choice. “The power of Christ compels you!”

Nothing happens. The demon’s face—his lover’s face—twists into a smirk, though it’s not as evil as the priest expected it to look. It’s the same look his lover always gives him when he’s feeling smug about something. “Crazy,” is all he says.

The priest turns his gaze onto his traitorous cross. It’s in one piece, pristine because he cleaned it last night. Why isn’t it working? Did he say it wrong?

“I’m not a demon, my love,” the thing continues after a moment. “I know I look horrifying to your little human mind, but just because I’m less handsome like this doesn’t mean I’m a demon, jeez.”

The priest can barely force the question past the lump in his throat. “What– What are you?”

“I’m exactly who I’ve always been,” the thing says with something of a grim smile. “Angels aren’t all golden halos and white gowns, you know.” He laughs when the priest’s head snaps to him. “I know. Sorry to disappoint you, darling. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The priest still isn’t convinced, frankly, but better to play it safe. He drops to his knees, painfully against the hardwood floor, and the thing—no, his lover, always his lover—raises an eyebrow at him.

“What are you doing?” he asks bluntly.

“O, servant of God,” the priest starts slowly. He bends down into an awkward bow, thankful for an excuse to not look at what his lover has become. What he’s always been. “Please, forgive me, I—”

“Eugh,” is the very unangelic sound that comes out of the other. The priest glances up at him, unsure if it was him who made it. “They train you well in that church, don’t they? I’m not a servant to anyone, darling, ‘specially not when you’re down on your knees like that.”

The priest flushes, stumbling to his feet a little too quickly. His lover watches with a hint of glee in his eye.

“I came here looking like a human because I wanted to be treated like one,” he says once the priest is back up. “You acting like that is exactly why I hid myself.”

Something twinges in the priest’s chest despite everything. “You– You didn’t trust me.”

“I couldn’t trust anyone.” His lover, this angel, shrugs idly. “Being an angel doesn’t let you reveal yourself to anyone, not even those you love the most.”

The cross twitches in his hand. “And now you know,” the angel—his angel, why couldn’t he see it before?��continues. “I’m sorry.”

The angel turns to the window again. “Darling, I—” The priest stops short, and the angel pauses for a moment, waiting.

The silence is thick. “I’m sorry,” his lover repeats, and in one smooth move he’s out of the window and into the darkness.

The priest almost trips over the rug in his haste to look outside. His fingers get splinters from the claw marks in the wood, but he doesn’t care. The street is empty.

His lover, an angel, disappeared into the night. All because he wanted to be the one with the surprise. Ironic.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #fantasci writing #shoutout to midnight mass for the inspiration. love that show #next one will be a day late im afraid lads #cause its HALLOWEEEEEEEEN #so yall can expect a spooky story on tuesday :) #or i hope tuesday. i post from the uk so it might be outta whack with yalls timezones im sorry #heres a lil half spook for yall til then

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

please please please stallard x ghost and the "Aww, love you too." prompt🙏🙏🙏

LOVE YOU SO SO SO SO POWERFUL MUCH. 🥹🥹🥹

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!OC / Simon doesn't know where to go when he detoxes. It makes him crawl back to an old flame, and he sweats out addiction and ugliness.

TW's: drug withdrawal, mentions of violent infanticide.

The fevers go by in spikes of blurred dreams. This is where Ghost would die, if he was done paying for all the shit he's done. Figures it's owed, his soul's in the red, and deep in the shit. Course, he wouldn't be lucky enough to die detoxing off pills.

It's the dog legs of July, 2012. World was supposed to end a month ago. It didn't. Now he's sweating out his demons in Stallard's guest bedroom. The guest bedroom in the house she shares with her husband.

That's right. She's no longer Stallard, is she? She's Graves. Saeda Graves.

It's hard to keep that in mind when he wants to shred his skin to get the goddamned bugs out from under it. When all his bones ache the same as trees turned tinder by nuclear blast radii.

And the fucking hallucinations. Christ. He can't escape Tommy's son. Can't see his fuckin' face, no, but he can see his little socked feet. Can see his bloody chest rising and falling. Can hear his death rattle. Over there, just under the dresser.

Falls out the bed, tryin' to get to him. Cracks his temple off the corner of the nightstand, busts his chin on the hardwood.

Stallard isn't there one moment, and then she is, over the span of a blink--one that lasts ten minutes when his pounding heart demands unconsciousness, because his brain can't decide which panicking bodily system is most deserving of attention and correction, when it is too far burnt down to even regulate itself.

"Christ, Simon," she mumbles, crouching, and there was a time, years ago, when he'd grab her hips, and drag her over his face, as if forcing her into a saddle. "Split your fuckin' head open. The fuck're you doin', man?" she asks, more herself than him.

"Shut th'fuck up," he says, or he thinks he does. If it fell out of his mouth, she had the grace he's never possessed in his life to ignore it. Just hooks her arms under his pits, and hoists him back in the bed.

The moment he hits the sweaty sheets, his brain pulls a hard left. His nephew is gone, the death rattle is gone, the smell of blood in the air--gone, gone, fucking gone. His head is spinning, and he feels spiders crawling across his skin, and his brain is burning, cooking, broiling to death in his battered skull.

Stallard: gone again, back again, and, now, she's cleaning up his forehead, pulling it back together where it split. She seals it shut with super glue, an old trick he remembers she'd picked up from the Rangers.

"Stop," he grunts, trying to push at her hands, but she ducks and bites his little finger. A nip sharp enough to drop his hands, and he remembers that, too. She picked that up from farriers working on horses that bit at their shoulders and asses--just bite the fuckers back, make them stop.

"Dumb bastard," she says under her breath, and she focuses in his eyes.

He's missed her. He's always fucking missed her, and he remembers everything about what they had. The way her hair felt sliding through his hands, black as pitch. The elastic lines around her mouth as she smiled. How her eyes would return to him when he spoke, when her mind was years and years behind them, before she had gotten the bulk of her tragedies out of the way.

There was a wedding portrait in the hall on the way to this guest room. She--she looked fucking awful. Her wedding was not hers, and he can tell without asking how it went down. He hated her dress, and her veil, and her bouquet, and her short fucking, shit-grinning groom.

He hates this house. He hates her last name. He hates that she didn't somehow know to fucking wait for him.

He hates that even if she did, he couldn't have done shit-all about actually marrying her.

"I hate you," he croaks, staring hard into her eyes as she fusses over him, and her hands still. Her gaze zeroes in, wide and hurt, and he continues to drill into those gray-green eyes. And he likes it. He likes that he's wounded her in her big, fancy house, with that big, ugly ring on her finger. He just don't know, though, he don't understand just how fucking bad it is under this roof. "Fuckin' hell, I hate you."

A huge sigh heaves her chest, and she shakes her head, capping the super glue as her eyes flicker away. "Aw. Love you, too," she says, but the tone of her joke is flat, carries on without heart to back it up.

His mouth staggers away without his control after a few moments of floating, paint-smear silence, and his voice almost cracks when he insists, "Shouldn't have married him, Saeda."

"Yeah, well." Her fingers worry the two gold necklaces around her throat, all of her little gold crosses, the chintzy yellow gold and opal ring he scrimped and scraped and save to buy her a lifetime ago. "Woulda been you, if you hadn't'a fuckin' died, Simon."

The silence rings in his ears. Imagines it rings in hers as well.

She picks her ass up off the bed, pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket, and lights one. After she takes a drag, she puts it to his lips, giving him a sorely needed hit of nicotine. Another little mercy of hers, caring for him, even when he is wrong. And he is wrong to and about her so fucking often.

#holler holler get $ #my work #otp: rent lowering gunshots #simon ghost riley #ghost x oc #ghost x original character

[finalmemes]

THE EVIL DEAD. roleplay sentence starters of the 1981 film. feel free to edit according to scenario / pronouns. tw: violence, language, horror, blood, possession.

hey, [ name ], where are we?

what the hell was that?

are you trying to kill us?

damn thing jerked right out of my hands.

well, you better take it back because the damn thing don't work.

what's this place like, anyway?

why are we getting it so cheap?

you mean nobody's seen this place yet?

well, it might not be that bad.

actually, it might be kind of nice.

i think this is where we get off.

the whole thing's falling apart on us!

don’t let the noise fool you girls, this thing is solid as a rock.

will you stop it?

i would very much like to make a toast for all this evening.

what is this?

whatever it is, it's still down there.

i don’t like cellars. let’s just close it up.

it’s probably just some animal.

that is the stupidest thing i ever heard of. jesus christ.

there's something down there.

i'm not going down there!

okay, you cowards. i'll go.

hey, [ name ]! you find anything?

he's just kidding around ... isn't he?

[ name ], get me a flashlight.

hey, come here, i wanna show you something.

look at all this stuff.

this kind of looks like your old girlfriend.

c'mon, let's take this stuff upstairs.

this is the tape i found downstairs.

the book is bound in human flesh and inked in human blood. it deals with demons and demon resurrection and those forces which roam the forest and dark bowers of man’s domain.

hey! what did you do that for? it was just getting good!

i just don't want to hear it anymore, that's all.

[ name ], c'mon. leave her alone, man.

shut it off! shut it off! shut it off!

where are you going?

i can't believe this.

[ name ], you knew not to play that.

you just don’t know when you’re taking something too far.

she acts like she’s three years old or something.

why don’t we stay up for a while and listen to the storm?

let me check on [ name ] first to see if she's okay.

[ name ], how sweet of you. would you put it on?

i was going to give it to you before we came up here, but things got so hectic, this is really the first chance we’ve had to be alone.

it’s beautiful. i really love it. i’ll never take it off.

join us!

is anybody out there?

i know someone's out there. i heard you. i heard you in the cellar.

what the hell happened to you? what’s the matter with you?

did something in the woods do this to you?

it was the woods themselves! they're alive, [ name ]!

the trees! they're alive!

why don’t i take her in the back room so she can lie down?

i’m not lying down! i want to get out of here. i want to leave this place right now.

[ name ], there's nothing out there.

trees do not attack people.

will you drive me into town or not?

look, sure, sure, i’ll take you into town, but just listen to what you’re saying.

i don’t care how it sounds. i wanna get out of this place right now.

it's not gonna let us leave.

why are you stopping?

do you see something? where're you going?

why won't you listen to me?

i have seen the dark shadows moving in the woods.

i have no doubt that whatever i have resurrected through this book is sure to come calling… for me.

i guessed the card right!

i don’t know, but i think it’s really some sort of extra sense or something, you know, like esp.

why have you disturbed our sleep? awakened us from our ancient slumber?

one by one we will take you.

what happened to her?

did you see her eyes?

i think we ought to get out of here.

we still have a few more hours before morning.

why does she keep making those horrible noises?

everything's going to be all right.

you have pretty skin. give it to us.

what are we going to do?

we're going to bury her.

we don’t even know if there is anyway back besides the bridge.

[ name ] cannot walk with her leg like that. she can’t even stand up.

what? are you crazy?

we're all going to die here!

you're not going to leave me here, are you, [ name ]?

kill her if you can, loverboy.

unlock this chain and let me out.

you bastards! why are you torturing me like this?

we're going to get you.

not another peep. time to go to sleep.

in time it will come for him and then it will come for you!

now, the sun will be up in an hour or so and we can all get out of here together.

hit her! hit it!

#horror sentence starters #rp sentence starters #rp memes #writing prompts #horror prompts #the evil dead sentence starters #film sentence starters

[projectbluearcadia]

Uh, My Existence Is Probably Treason...?

Solomon greets Annelie with sigils inscribed all over his clothing. 

Solomon: Did anyone follow you?

Annelie: No, but I’ve already gotten a missed call from Lucifer, and I imagine he’s stressing himself out to the max. 

Solomon: Good. 

I don’t think that’s good at all. 

Annelie: You said you would explain what was going on, so why am I the only one who left the house?

Solomon rifles around in his coat before he extracts a vial filled with Annelie’s blood. He unstops it. 

Annelie: What are you—

Solomon dumps her blood onto the ground, and a small rodent pops out of the ground to curiously sniff the blood before it suddenly makes a beeline for Annelie and tries desperately to crawl up her leg. 

Annelie: OW! Ow, sharp claws! Get off!

Annelie picks up the rodent and flings it away, only for it to come charging back. Solomon traps it in a jar with the soil the blood touched, and it claws at the glass while making harsh screeching noises. 

Solomon: Just as I thought...

Annelie: What? What’s just as you thought?

Solomon: Anne, you’re a ruling class succubus. 

Annelie: ...am I supposed to know what that means, or does that just mean I’m royal?

Solomon: No, I was just trying to figure out how to explain it politely. Succubus Blood Disease is one thing, but your particular brand of that is a lot worse. You throw people into extreme states of arousal, and one of three things will happen. 

Annelie: Which are?

That rodent... doesn’t look well. 

Solomon: The first is nothing. 

Annelie: O...kay?

Solomon: The second is death.

Annelie: Oh.

Solomon: And the third is submission.

Annelie: What?

The rodent stops scratching at the glass and flops over.

Solomon: The latter two outcomes are much more likely, but here’s how I believe it works. Suppose a Queen Succubus is fighting and is mortally injured. Magic and pheromones are released with the blood, and the enemy is inflicted with debilitating hypersensitivity. This disease saps at life force and sends it back to its magical origin until the Succubus forces it into dormancy. Absolute obedience is instilled, lest the disease progress further, and the Succubus gains a slave. The demon seeks life more than anything else, so they unconsciously try to—

Annelie: —make me force it into dormancy?

Solomon: Essentially, yes. I suspect the effect on Diavolo will be the worst, since he’s rarely exposed to you, and the reverse can probably be said for Lucifer. 

Annelie: Does that mean I can at least call him back? He’s probably having a meltdown. 

Solomon: Don’t let anyone hear your voice. Just text him. 

Annelie: ...fine. 

Annelie texts Lucifer and immediately gets a block of text back. 

Annelie: So... once they’re infected, I have to make them submit if I don’t want them to die?

Solomon: So it would seem. 

Annelie: And to make them submit, I have to have sex with them?

Solomon: That’s the most common magic release mechanism, from what I read.

Annelie: What kind of twisted asshole made up this broken mechanic?

Solomon: I think that would be you. 

Annelie: Sol, we only have so much flex tape, and we can’t use it to tape your mouth shut. 

Solomon laughs. 

Solomon: I think it’s okay. In any case, I’m going to go in there and see what I can figure out. 

Annelie: ...I feel like this was a complicated ruse for you to make a pact with Diavolo.

Solomon: I would never. 

Annelie: ...

Solomon: Ahaha. 

Lucifer: There you are. 

Lucifer wraps his arms around Annelie, startling her in the process. 

Solomon: Jesus christ, Lucifer, you smell like flowers. It almost makes my head hurt. 

Lucifer glares. 

Lucifer: I appreciate your help, but stay the hell away from my Annelie.

Solomon: I’m feeling some intense deja vu. 

Lucifer: Want me to break the cycle? 

Solomon: Considering it seems like you’re ready to throw down, I’ll pass. Haha...

Solomon passes them and enters the house. 

Annelie: Did anyone see you come out?

Lucifer: It doesn’t matter. 

Lucifer squeezes her closer.

Annelie: Lucifer, did you even read your texts?

Lucifer: I read them, and I don’t care. 

He bites her, and she gasps. 

Annelie: Oi!

Lucifer: You’re mine, and no one else will touch you. 

Lucifer drags her back inside the House of Lamentation.   

Haha. I’m going to die.

#it's poison but better #possessive luci #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #fanfiction #shameless self indulgence #obey me! #obey me angst #LuciAnne

[divinegoddess1177]

It’s crazy how we out there downgrading each other speaking negatively into each other reality..and it’s also crazy how we don’t get along we out here beefing with each other do to jealousy, judgement, criticism, y’all don’t want to hear the truth but christianity and religious is the same thing you are praying to the god eye keep saying it satan has many names. lucifer, antichrist, jesus christ, lord, allah, he is the same dark forces with different names...it doesn’t matter if you are a christianity, religious, muslim, catholic..they all a cult of destruction, that has been taken place in our lives. It’s a man image that was made up to brainwash us it’s time to wake up..so hate on each other because that’s how we was programmed to do because they know we are powerful together then we are apart it’s time to realize everything in your life you was programmed to do..we was taught to hate each other..we was taught to believe in someone else’s image christianity/religion..eye am saying this because eye hear a lot of my neuromelanin being talk bad about other african neuromelanin being when we all have african, indigenous in our DEA bloodline..

..remember you feed the negative force your energy when you are jealousy, judgement and show hatred towards each other. Again it’s time to wake up and remember who you are and get your power back our people has lost so much that it turned us against each other it’s time to fight back not each other stop taking the blue pill and taking the red pill.

🔴Red pill you go down the rabbit hole to see how far it goes and wake up.

🔵Blue pill you continue to believe what the want you to believe and stay sleep.

———————————more———————————-

Also christian’s folks keep saying everything comes from god himself. But they think the rainbow is gay and a sin but he created everything right..yea ok..the rainbow doesn’t represent nobody gender or sexuality it represents energy from your aura of the electricity from your body and its called chakras and christian’s folks don’t even like the color red because they say it’s the color of the devil..but they be talking about calling on the blood of Jesus but when you bleed out ain’t your blood red but y’all don’t like red..

———————————-more———————————-

And have anyone ever noticed that demonic force comes from christianity, religious, muslim, catholic everything always led back to the churches..they show it all the time in these movies and shows they won’t just be putting it out there in every movie unless it’s true.. christianity, religious so annoying ignorance is bliss. It’s time to wake up.!

❤️Red the blood our people shed.

🖤Black the people we fight for.

💚Green the land we lost and will regain.

Asé 𓋹𓂀🤎👁️🫵🏽😘

[mask131]

Dante’s Hell: The Midlands of Hell

X) The City of Dis

The City of Dis is one of the biggest landmarks of Dante’s Hell. It is the midpoint of the infernal realm, marking the delimitation between the Upper Hell (with the sins of Incontinence we saw), and the Lower Hell where people are sent for the sins of “Malice”. That is to say sins, crimes and actions perpetrated not out of blinding emotions or excessive desires, but out of a cold, calculating, conscious logic, sins committed with the full thought and intent of doing crimes, of harming people, of doing evil things – evil by choice, rather than evil by moral weakness. The City itself is a great and terrifying sight: great walls of iron behind which rises glowing mosques and towers, all buildings burning bright red like hot, recently forged metal – for in this infernal city burns a perpetual and internal fire that never stops, and that is so bright it is actually the only source of light brightening up the lower circles of Hell, which would be plunged in darkness without it. [For the name of this infernal city, Dante used again a Roman mythology reference – Dis was both the name of the underworld where the dead dwelled in ancient Roman culture, and the name of the god ruling over it, also called Dis Pater, the same way the Greeks called “Hades” both the underworld and its god-ruler).

Upon arriving by boat (through Phlegyas) in front of the great walls of the burning Dis, our duo meets some resistance. The citizens of Dis, who are all “fiendish angels”, aka fallen angels and demons, refuse to let Dante pass through their city, because he is a living and does not belong among the dead – they tell him to go back all on his own through the Upper Hell. Alone, because while they allow Virgil to pass through their doors, they make it clear they will keep him locked in Dis for perpetual torment. While Dante is very frightened by these threats, Virgil is not. So far all of the “staff” of Hell has been hostile towards them (Charon refusing to let Dante climb in his poet, Minos and Pluto/Plutus trying to scare Dante away, Cerberus attempting to devour the travelers…), and each time Virgil invoking the fact that the journey they are undertaking was ordered by the forces of Heaven themselves worked enough to bend the will of these beings. But this time… it doesn’t work. After Virgil reminds the demons of Dis that they are sent here by God and that it is the will of the most powerful forces of Paradise, the fallen angels just slam the doors of Dis in Virgil’s face and lock them out, refusing them access to the Lower Hell. As a result, Virgil decides to call forth back-up – Heavenly forces that will come down to teach a lesson to these “insolent demons”.

Virgil reassures the frightened Dante with various stories – for example he explains how the demons also tried blocking the entrance of Hell to Jesus Christ as he died, back at the Gate of Hell, but couldn’t keep him out ; and he also reveals the reason why he knows so much about Hell despite being a soul of the First Circle – a witch named Erichtho once used necromancy to submit his spirit and send it fetch the soul of another sinner, into the “pit of Judas”, lowest and darkest place of Hell, so this is why he knows the way. This story-telling time is brutally interrupted by the arrival of three of the most terrifying denizens of Dis – the Furies or Erynies from Greco-Roman mythology, here depicted as female entities covered in blood, wearing hydras as belts, wth snakes instead of hair, constantly shrieking and self-harming themselves. The Furies, from the top of one of Dis towers, call forth another terrifying monster, Medusa the Gorgon, and order her to turn to stone the living being that dares attempting to enter in their realm. Virgil covers Dante’s eyes to protect him from the petrifying appearance of the Gorgon, but hopefully the back-up from Heaven arrives: in a loud, exploding noise of wild storm, an angel arrives above the Styx, crossing the mists of the marshes, all the damned souls of the sinners of wrath fleeing in terror in front of this holy being, who walks on the Styx’s water without being wet, and with just one move of the hand pushes back all the putrid air far away from him. Armed with a wand, the angel touches the gates of Dis, which open on their own, and then he promptly berates the fallen angels of the city for trying to oppose the will of God. Without a word or even a look for the protagonist, the angel then returns to Heaven, his duty done. [In this passage there are several mentions of Greek heroes that went into the Underworld, and who apparently also existed in this version of Hell – from the Furies who want to destroy Dante because they made the mistake of sparing Theseus when he tried to snatch Persephone away, to the angel reminding them of how Hercules made his own way through the Underworld by dragging Cerberus away, leaving even today the hair/skin of the beast’s chin and throat is “peeled off clean”. ]

[A second interesting parallel here is that… Here the three Erynies/Furies appear to block Dante’s path into Hell. But at the beginning of the poem, before Dante entered Hell, we learned that this travel through the afterlife was decided and approved by three celestial women who organized everything in Heaven: Beatrice, Dante’s lover, Saint Lucy, and the Virgin Mary herself. So there is a play here on the two trios of celestial and infernal female entities.]

As a last note: the reason mosques are said to be part of Dis’ architecture, is because at the time of Dante, the Muslims were the main enemies of the Christians, and Islam the main threat to Christianity, so of course Dante would place their religious architecture as part of the “city of Hell”, the very opposite of the “city of God” imagined by Saint Augustine.

 XI) The Sixth Circle

Interestingly, beyond the walls-towers of Dis, there isn’t an actual city… But the Sixth Circle itself, which is apparently the same thing as Dis. And what does this sixth circle looks like? A giant cemetery. A landscape of sepulchers and graves modeled after the Ancient Roman cemeteries (such as those of Arles or Pola) – except that here each grave has its lid slightly pushed to the side, to reveal what is within them… flames. The same bright, eternal, burning fire that lit up Dis itself – the hottest fire one will ever see. And lying within these graves of fire and stones… are the Heretics, the sinners of this Circle.

The more “heretic” they are, the stronger the fire of the flame will burn ; the lesser “heretic” they were, the lesser the fire is. But what is an “heretic”? I want to briefly define that, because there is a widespread misconception that “heresy” means “not being part of the Christian religion”. That is false, there is a clear divide between “heresy” and “paganism”. “Paganism” is all the religions that are not Christian, and thus considered “wrong” religions. “Heresy” is rather doctrines and beliefs held or created by Christians themselves, but which oppose themselves to the official dogma of the Church and canons of the religion. This is basically the “non-canon” content of the Christian religion, which was fiercely and furiously hunted down throughout the Church’s history. An ancient Babylonian worshipping their god wasn’t considered an heretic, but a pagan. However if a Christian priest started a cult centered around how Jesus was a dog disguised as a human, he would be an “heretic”. There is a lot of “heresies” that the Church denounced, opposed and fought, ranging from belief debates to little political details – some of the most famous including the Arians (who considered that Jesus was not divine in nature, the son of God yes, but a mere man) ; the Marcionites (who believed that the God of the Ancient Testament wasn’t the same as the one of the New Testament), the Cathars (who thought the physical and material world was created by evil itself, and that God and good could only be found in the spiritual and immaterial world), or the Nestorians, that considered that Jesus the Christ wasn’t the Son of God, and that the Son of God was a separate character…

Dante here, however, only focuses on one particular kind of “heresy” – the Epicureans and affiliated heresies. This will probably confuse you, because the Epicurean were Greek philosophers of the Antiquity, and thus should be considered “pagans”, right? But that’s forgetting that the Christian Church saw the Greek philosophers (such as Aristotle) as proto-Christians, who had managed to find the basic truths and principles of Christianity before the Christ was even born (which is why Dante uses a moral system based on Aristotle and Cicero for his Christian Hell). One of those was the belief in the existence of an afterlife, and the immortality of the souls. But the Epicureans rather believed that there was no afterlife, no immortality of the soul, that the death was a final thing destroying both body and mind, and as a result they said that one should focus on happiness and pleasures in the living and material life, without any regard for a possible “after-life”. This led to the Christian Church deeming them as “heretics” even though they were pagans – and indeed, several other Christian heresies also held the idea that “heaven was on earth” and there was no afterlife to look for past the death of the body.

This is why the punishment of the Heretics is to be forever stuck into graves: those that denied the existence of a life after death or the immortality of the soul are now entombed forever as “living corpses”. In a more general way, the whole point of the Christian religion is that the Christ promised that the deceased would be free of the grave, by accessing a new existence in an afterlife or heaven – and here, the Heretics are simply stuck forever in a cemetery, never “delivered from the grave”. There is only one other type pf heresy mentioned explicitly by Dante – the heresy of Acacius, that denied that Jesus’ birth was divine in any way, and claimed that he was born like a mortal man, solely and exclusively out of mortal parents.

In this Circle, Dante has more chats and talks with the damned, again mostly about the conflict of the Guelfs and the Ghibellines, but we do learn a few interesting things. For example we have here a clarification of the knowledge of the damned: once in Hell, the shades have a full knowledge of the past and of the future, which allows them to understand a lot of things and deliver prophecies. BUT they actually do not have access to the present or the immediate times around their death. In their own words, they perceive it as if they had “faulty visions”, which explains why several of the sinners Dante meets ask him for information about certain person and certain events, while also delivering him prophecies about what will happen. But this immense knowledge, a form of “gift” of those damned souls, will disappear upon Judgement Day – those sent back to Hell upon their last, eternal punishment, still blind to the present, will have no more future to look into since time itself will end, and slowly their knowledge of the past will fade away into oblivion, leaving them in absolute emptiness…

[Interestingly, throughout the travel of the Sixth Circle, there are references to a mysterious queen of Hell that never actually happens. The Erynies already were presented as the “handmaids of the queen of timeless woe”, here clearly referring to Proserpine, the queen of the underworld and wife of Pluto ; but one of the sinners of Heresy refers to fifty cycles of the moon in the living world as “fifty times the face of the queen who reigns down here will glow”, rather depicting the queen of Hell as Hecate, known as the Greek goddess of both the moon and the dead. So it seems there is a sort of Proserpina/Hecate amalgam somewhere in Dante’s Hell.]

As they approach the next abyss leading to Lower Hell, Dante and Virgil have to stop due to an extremely powerful stench making them sick. As they rest, Virgil explains to Dante the whole moral and ethical logic behind the system of Hell, that I already talked about. Virgil explains how those “outside of the fiery cities”, the sinners of the Upper Hell, are those of incontinence – who through their moral incontinence earned God’s wrath, but offended him the least and “merits the least blame” compared to the other sinners – those of the Lower Hell, the sinners of malice, who acted with “injustice” as their sole endgoal, and who committed their malice either through violence or fraud. Now, while Virgil doesn’t explicitly says it, he purposefully leaves out Heresy and the circle they are in from both the Upper Hell of Incontinence and the Lower Hell of Malice – because heresy is actually a strange in-between, there is not done with the purpose of doing evil like Malice, but isn’t either related to natural human emotions and desires like Incontinence, and thus stands in a strange in-between, in the very midway of Hell.

[It is actually quite unclear where the City of Dis ends… the flaming tombs of the Sixth Circle are clearly said to be directly beyond and within the Walls of Dis, and that the burning city lights up the darkness of the Circles below, so for some Dis is just the Sixth Circle and its protecting walls – but other times, the characters speak and imply that basically Dis is the ENTIRETY of Lower Hell.]

#dante #inferno #hell #dis #city of dis #circles of hell #sixth circle #heresy #dante alighieri #the divine comedy #furies #gorgon

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

🎲 … maybe… 👉🏻👈🏻

KISS ROULETTE! send 🎲 to generate a kiss! potential suggestive/nsf.w themes may appear ═══ MODERN VERSE ═══

26. A kiss while one or both parties are crying

"E-Eve...?"

Warm drops upon his face brought a wheeze forward from his chest as his bruised eyes focused upwards at her face, those glowing eyes staring down at him with a mix of emotion; love, pain, hunger; that face alone told him all he needed to know about his condition. His stomach felt lit with flames as he lays in the alleyway, crimson mixing with the dirty concrete under him to fill every crack and every crevice. Robin can tell she's struggling, she always had - he wasn't unaware of her nature and how desperately she was trying to hold herself back for his sake. How the frustration of such a thing brought tears to her waterline, only a few falling upon his cheeks.

It seemed that the universe did circle around, over and over in a never ending cycle doomed to leave her alone, he wondered how many times he had died infront of her; how many tears could a demon weep? A bolt of pain shot through him when he tried to lift his phone, the screen splattered with his own blood while his thumb desperately tried to wipe it away to see Danny's face, his stupid lazy smile gazing down at him was enough to bubble tears into Robin's eyes. A agonized wheeze left him once more as the back of his head was cradled and he was brought into her arms, Evelynn's perfume bringing him a strange sense of calm despite the rippling whisper of mortality telling him it was time to go.

Robin felt the way his hair stuck to his cheek, caked red and crackled dry as a hand swept through those pretty tresses, and he forced himself to lift his hand up to her. Fingers gripped around the back of her neck as he stared up to her, almost like Christ looking up towards Mary as she held him within his last fleeting moments. A pieta. He drank in that sparkling gold stare, like two coins, and a soft, quivering smile found its way upon his lips,

"Miss...Evelynn...T-Thank you...for loving me."

The kiss upon her mouth was weak and salty, one last nail of affection to hammer into her and to seal his fate. What would be the purpose of his memory if she, and all she had become, was not able to honor it? No...Robin knew she had changed from those long ago days when he first met her in Zaun. Zaun...what a strange name for a city, he missed Abel, he missed his mother, Tarhos, Danny...Eve. He was sure he would find his way back to those eyes and petalled lips. He always would.

And finally, his quivering stopped.

#ic #rp #verse: modern #not canon obvs but #:') #agonizedembrace #kiss roulette

[zahramorningstar]

The grail cup is the symbol of the creative force of nature; it is also the symbol of the human race which is slowly learning the mysteries of creation. Within the cup is the blood of Christ, that force which is transmuting the body into soul, fast or slowly as we give it greater or lesser opportunity. In the sacred spear we find symbolized again the creative force, which in the hands of Klingsor, the evil one, wounds and causes suffering, but which when held by the pure Parsifal heals the very wound that it caused.

A great lesson is being taught to man through these allegories, but the average person is unwilling to stop and consider them. They do not realize that they themselves are the ones whom the Elder Brothers of humanity must use in the fight against the forces of evil. They do not realize that the dragons and ogres of the legends are their own lower natures which they must overcome.

They do not see in the hand to hand combat of the knights of old for a lady’s hand the higher and lower man fighting for the soul within. The knight of today does not realize that the white armor that he wears is his own purified body which is proof against all the attacks of vice and passion, but nevertheless this is the meaning of the legend.

His shield is truth, which is a perfect protection to the inner man. His strong right arm is the knowledge and spiritual power he has developed within, and the sword that he uses is the spiritual light with which the pure flame of the spirit fire dispels the darkness of ignorance and the demons of lust. The sacred spear and the cup which he serves are the two poles of the creative life force within, the development of which he gains as he daily serves his fellow men.

Far from the uninitiated the twelve Elder Brothers of mankind sitting around the circular table of the universe watch the knights in their battle of life, and the time comes when the student having finished his work here is liberated at the foot of the Grail.

There the candidate stands robed from head to foot in the armor of spirit and in the pure white of a body that has been cleansed. Then the cloth is lifted from the sacred cup, and he is illuminated by the light which would have killed him had he seen it without purification. He then takes his place among the knights of the Round Table, and joins those who give up all and labor for humanity.

Initiate of the Flame - MPH

Lady of the Grail - Dante Gabriel Rosseti

#initiation #holy grail #manly p hall #dante gabriel rossetti #parsifal #higher self #lower self #occultism #mysticism #hermetic philosophy #esoteric #know thyself #ai artwork #aiartcommunity #ai

[wejustwanttogohome]

A Bad Plan (Eddie Munson x Wheeler!Reader)

❖ PAIRING: eddie munson x wheeler!male reader

❖ SUMMARY: you turned back from the upside down hoping to find something te help the others to save the world, but Vecna got you.

PART 2 HAS BEEN POSTED!

❖ WARNING: blood.

❖ NOTES: the protagonist has a name, yess!! It's Nico, hoping you dont mind :((

❖ PART TWO

( ˘ ³˘)❤ enjoy !!

【 “H-I was scared… h-holy fuck, Nico. JESUS ​​CHRIST!!"

"There's no need to scream that loud, Munson."

"BUT WHAT THE FUCK CAME INTO YOUR MIND, WILL YOU TELL ME?"

I tried to wipe my chin on my arm which was stained with blood and saliva, looking up a little. I felt the back of my neck completely wet, I would never wish you similar adventures or risky plans like mines, but yet here we are!! Sneaking into one of the portals was definitely a bad idea to find a solution regarding the end of the world, but you don't have to follow my example if you don't want to be killed in… how long did I last? Ten minutes? And now the big guy turns left and right to find the right door to block the hole in the ceiling. I tried to get closer but with every single movement my head floated on what I call air causing me a couple of dizziness.

“Oookay, earth calls Munson!! Stop for a moment, we will find the solution and then we go to my house that I have to take a shower. Munson…? Munson!! "

I don't know if mine were more help exclamations for my state or if I needed to be reassured by him, but things don't work like in books or movies and he raised his voice back, reminding me how stupid my idea had been. He was definitely terrified, probably because no one of us has ever been more traumatized by the Upside Down than him and Will, and only then I do realize how much he needed to feel safe.

I was sitting on his dilapidated sofa when I finally made up my mind to bring my feet to the ground and stay lucid, I knew it would be okay and I would repair the damage I had done. Plus it was Eddie, no less than the leader of our club. If he fell, who then thought of those lost sheep? Nahh, not Steve Harrington, he already had me to follow and it certainly wasn't easy to keep up with a Wheeler, especially if you're Nancy Wheeler's brother, right? Furthermore, at the time I had a great admiration for him, the fear of disappointing Eddie or making him feel so bad I didn't like it at all.

I swallowed that salty and slimy taste that was still dripping from my nose - I had probably broken it - and looked at my hands before I dared to get up for real. It's a stupid habit, don't pay attention to it. The fact is that as he spoke and railed in the name of the Lord and the Holy Spirit, I dared to grab his arm and then his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. I think he was hyperventilating, not even when he attacked those demon-bats he was so anxious and maybe I never really got to see him so destroyed.

“Breathe… I'm here. Hey, Eddie. "

"T-They... will come again and attack us... the van... "

The broken tone demolished my expression again and it softened further. I immediately denied, reassuring and accompanying him right where I was sitting a few seconds before. I stopped shaking, I immediately went into the foreground when he made me so much tenderness.

"The van, the van... are you so worried your uncle will find out about the mess we made? Listen. "

I pretended to look at the watch on my wrist, using a stupid and silly way to distract him from the facts.

"There are still six hours to nine, I don't think there is so much to be frightened by a bit of a mess. Just sweep the living room a bit, repair the roof with some tiles. You see? Let's take those of the bed !! Then ... we'll think about sleeping later, okay? Maybe I sweep in your room too since it doesn't need demogorgons to be scary. And then… and then we watch a movie. At my house, okay? Mom isn't there, so it shouldn't be a problem, I'll leave you my room if you want to sleep. I will do it on the sofa. Mhh? How does it seem to you? "

"How ... how do we tell that to-to others?"

“Tomorrow, as soon as possible. Even if there isn't much to say in the end. I didn't find anything important. "

“I saw that! You have increased the portal at my house !! You almost got yourself killed !! "

I would have been weak if I had given in at that moment, but it was so difficult to look him in the eye and try to say anything that would have made him feel better. If I had apologized the words would have collapsed in my throat and I hated to keep that submissive and helpless tone in front of him, one of the most important people I have ever met. But if I hadn't done it, the terror of losing him was greater than any hideous feeling. And so I stood right there without knowing what to reply, with one hand on his knee that was still trying to reach him and to have a contact that probably I only needed and with the other pressing on the wound (superficial, but painful as I never imagined) between my ribs. I thought about how tired I was of running, how long I had to resist before I could allow myself to free me and I realized how much pain it would have made me lose his friendship.

"Sorry."

“Sorry. I-I don't even know what I'm saying. "

"Uh?"

My head swayed a little before I noticed his gaze slipping away. I looked for him trying to pick up on him at that distance that separated us and he calmly explained to me how much he was still traumatized by Chrissy's death. And it's true, I admit it, I still thought about how jealous made me that presence among us, even though it was gone, it was still there, in front of him and I. I felt slimy, jealous like few others for an idiocy because that girl certainly didn't deserve to die and I certainly wanted her to still be with us, perhaps in the Hellfire Club, but at the time I didn't even know how I felt about Eddie. Between Vecna ​​and the Upside-down I was struggling to keep up with my problems, so I repressed negative and wrong emotions in the drawer, hoping that they would never come out. I wanted to answer him I'm not Chrissy, I'm better, I can fight, I can defend you, I can protect you. But I tied a lump in my throat and left the comment for myself - thank goodness I haven't talked about that. I listened to him, opened him a beer and let him drink until it seemed to me that he was exaggerating but at the moment he was already more relaxed.

"Damn, I shouldn't reassure you with these."

He just laughed and I didn't even leave for a second, at least I waited until he fell asleep a few hours later, after several talks about how useless Chrissy's boyfriend was as much as the sport he plays and I let him say, I wanted him to relax a bit.

When I made sure he was sleeping, I breathed a sigh of relief as now one of the hardest parts was happening: getting up again and finding some bandages for what had become that sprawling wound. For a moment I wondered who the fuck had made me wait so long and pulled it long, then came the time of I'll never make it. Ahh, those bad times !!

The fact is that yes! I could make it to the kitchen where there was the walkie talkie and SURPRISE !! Robin answers. Robin? But why did Robin answer me ?!

“Steveeeee is busy with Samantha Clarke, he is giving her a loooong speech about how charming Tom Cruise actually is in his latest film. And now he seems pissed, I could tell he is trying to tell me to go fuck myself in labial. Strange that I can understand it since my skills are very bad. "

“Yeah look, lovely and all you want, but I'm in trouble and I need someone to replace me tonight, it's… it's serious, ah-ah-ah. It's fucking serious."

Oh my god!! Do you know that embarrassment moment when you realize that you are actually asking your parents for help because you don't know how to solve the situation when you thought it would all go great ?! Good. And they're not even my parents, I wanted to bury myself but I realized that I really did not know what to do, I had never bleeding so much in my life before. It was embarrassing. I was embarrassing.

"Serious? Where are you? I can't ear you clearly... Nico? "

"Munson house, I'm at Munson house ... at Eddie's."

“SORRY, WHAT?! Did you really mean it when you said that you will gonna do it?! Nico, were you serious and that stupid?! "

And here the line breaks because first, I don't remember anything anymore. I was still awake, but leaning in a corner of the kitchen in an attempt to give those few indications and maybe it's better that I explain something to you because the situation seemed truly tragic when in reality it was only in my head. The situation was not really that serious, but those ten minutes in the Upside-Down must have robbed me of all hope and energy mentally. I'll tell you in short that I managed to get up to get out of the van and I was still standing when Steve quickly parked the car outside the trailer. And I will say more, on the contrary: evening was arrived and when he reached me, frightened, I didn't hesitate for a second to go to hug him. The reunion destroyed all the walls, allowing me to breathe as I should have done before. It looked like I was a child again, the same one Steve met three years earlier after his first date with Nancy.

"Nico!! Nico, for god's sake. Are you okay?!" He repeated to me, checking the situation before Robin looked for the bandages in the hood of the car. Obviously I denied and collapsed desperately in his chest, not wanting to let go even a moment.

“I-I failed. I didn't-… I didn't find anything. Nothing, absolutely nothing. "

"I would slap you if it weren't for the fact that you have already ruined your face. What were you thinking, uh?! And where is Munson? Where was he at the moment?! "

"NO! No, Eddie has nothing to do with it, I got him involved and they almost killed him a second time because of me. Steve, believe me: he's not involved. I... he saved me first. He…"

“Okay, okay I heard you! I heard you... now get in the car, we can't take you home like this. "

"Wait! You stay here, I'm going with Robin. But stay with Eddie, please. "

“You're joking, right?!! Look after Munson when you're like this? Wheeler, you are really stubborn."

“The portal has opened again. And he's scared, I won't leave him alone. I won't that happened. I'll go home, take a shower and take care of myself but you have to promise me you'll stay here. "

"Do you realize that this will make me lose my job?"

“But you would have done it for me Harrington, don't you?! Fuck, for God's sake, listen to me for once!! "

I wasn't lucid, otherwise I would have tried better to make him understand the situation, but at this point I forced myself to cling to him for desperation and pain. It seemed so stupid to me that he did not understand the gravity of the situation and instead he was the first to did it. He sensed even earlier actually of how I didn't just feel admiration for Eddie Munson. I didn't understand that charitable expression that suddenly appeared on his face, but then he looked at Robin. And I looked down.

"Please, Steve."

"Okay, c'mon. Let's do it." 】

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #fan fiction #eddie munson smut

[h50europe]

MERTHUR BLOODLUST - Chapter 1

MERTHUR - BLOODLUST (a Merthur AU where Merlin is a vampire and a sorcerer, living under a roof with Arthur, who knows about his secrets. The prince left the family castle after a fallout with his father, who hates all supernatural creatures. Uther let his demon hunters terrorize the entire town. The friendship between the prince and the vampire stems from the night Arthur left the castle. Wasted, he ended up in a dark alley, where he would almost get killed by a bunch of were creatures if it weren't for Merlin, who protected him and took him in until he sobered up. Since that night, they have looked after each other and tried to deal with their growing feelings for each other.) Steampunk era (therefore mentioning of modern stuff like a fridge, cell phones, apps etc.)

Chapter 1

"Holy Christ, you are bleeding!" Worried, Arthur dropped to his knees beside Merlin, who groaned as he applied pressure to the nasty gash in Merlin's side. Not because of the pain, but Arthur smelled delicious. Merlin's eyes focused on the throbbing vein in his friend's neck. Merlin wanted nothing more than to grab him by his silky blond hair and drag his throat to his mouth. Merlin's jaw ached as his fangs snapped free. Arthur's eyes widened. Of course, he knew his friend was a vampire. Only, until today he'd never seen him like this. Usually, Merlin was a master in disguising his true identity.

Merlin felt his undead life draining from him as he cast a pleading look at his friend. "Please help me inside."

"Merlin, I..."

"Please."

Arthur never did what Merlin asked, and Merlin never said please. So that was a night of firsts. Arthur's heartbeat thundered in his chest as he grabbed him under his armpits to drag him over the threshold. Merlin could hear it but also smelled the blond's angst.

"Tell me what to do," Arthur said, ready to pull up his sleeve. Another first.

God, this man would die for him. Merlin shook his head. "I would kill you my noble friend in my current state, because you can't stop me from drinking. I would drain you to the very last drop."

Shame barely broke through his thirst, as he licked his lower lip, teasing the tip of his fangs with his tongue.

"There is blood in the freezer," Merlin whispered.

On his way to the kitchen Arthur almost tripped over his own feet. The artificial glow of the freezer light illuminated his silhouette that was wrapped in a cloud of condensation. Merlin's vision blurred. The next thing he knew, Arthur was shoving a bag of blood into his face. Every instinct in his undead body screamed to drag Arthur down and suck him dry. God, he smelled delicious, the warmth emanating from his body was more than tempting. Compared to his friend the packaged blood smelled like garbage.

Merlin tried to lift his arms. Due to the loss of blood his limbs disobeyed him. Humiliation paired with relief burned in Merlin's chest.

"Sorry, you have to feed me."

Raising one eyebrow, Arthur took the bag of blood, twisted the cap, and placed the nozzle in Merlin's mouth. Starving, Merlin closed his lips over it and also Arthur's fingers and sucked greedily. At the first burst of blood on his tongue, his hands shot up and he grabbed Arthur's wrists like a lifeline, forcing him into a half crouch as he swallowed. Merlin felt the energy flooding back into his body, counteracting the paralyses caused by the immense loss of blood. He didn't realize he was still sucking Arthur's fingers until the blond tried to pull his hand out of the crushing grip.

"Sorry," Merlin muttered, releasing his friend as his sanity returned.

Arthur sat back on his heels. He looked at his hands, unable to meet Merlin's gaze.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" he asked before clenching his jaw, still not looking at the vampire.

Merlin sat up slowly and tugged the ruined vest and shirt out of the way to watch his wound closing. The torn skin changed its color from black to pink and finally white. The scar was barely visible and would have disappeared in a few hours.

"Obviously someone wanted me dead."

"Care to elaborate?" Arthur kept digging.

"I got stabbed by one of your father's men. One of those useless vampire hunters." Merlin made a dismissive gesture.

"How in the world did he know you were a ..."

Arthur trailed off, the unspoken word hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles. To this day, Arthur had never uttered the word vampire in Merlin's presence. Merlin couldn't tell if it was denial or fear that kept him from saying it. Either way, it hurt.

"I bit him."

Arthur's brows shot up to his hairline. "I beg your pardon. You did what? But you told me you don't bite people."

"Well, in his case ... He asked me to," Merlin clarified.

Trying not to be insulted as Arthur leaned away from him. Because he didn't want Arthur to see the hurt look on his face, Merlin climbed to his feet, holding on to the wall to keep himself upright. His head swam.

Arthur remained kneeling in front of him. His hands were on his knees. It shouldn't have been sexy, but damn if he didn't look like a servant, his blond unruly hair tickling his forehead, his full lips slightly parted. If he wanted, he could unbutton the fly of Merlin's trousers, slide his fingers into the crease of Merlin's boxers and wrap those sinful lips around his...

Merlin shook his head, banishing the bloodlust. Arthur wasn't interested in Merlin sexually, and the vampire decided not to act on his silly crush. He was relieved when Arthur finally stood and walked into the kitchen to toss the empty blood bag into the bin and wash his hands. Any distance he put between them was a blessing.

"Why in the world would anyone ask to be bitten?" Arthur tried to sound curious. Only, the tension in his shoulders betrayed his disgust.

"Because it feels good," Merlin offered.

Arthur gave him a skeptical look in return. "Seriously?"

Merlin snorted, "Dear friend, you are doing a helluva job making me feel like a monster. But then thinking about how easy it had been to tear this asshole apart, I probably deserve to feel like one."

"You could have enchanted him," Arthur suggested.

"Nope. Not with the amount of vervain in his system. I could smell the stank of it. Unfortunately, too late."

Arthur dropped the dish towel next to the sink.

"I don't get it. How could being bitten something worth craving for?"

Merlin sighed. Was he really about to have the vampire equivalent of "the talk" with his oblivious flatmate? Merlin approached Arthur. The moment their eyes locked, the vampire knew that, yes, that was exactly what he was going to do.

(Chapter 2 here)

#merlin #arthur and merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #colin morgan #bradley james #missing merlin #merlin forever #modern merlin #merlin reloaded #my manip #my edit #photoshop #digitalart #merthur fanfic #vampire

[ycurkxng-a]

Burial

Characters: (Coasty SMP) Dean King, Adam

Warnings: None

Notes: Damn this shit made me sad wtf

Nothing could've prepared him for this, absolutely fucking nothing. Although a part of him always knew a day like this was bound to come, he never wanted it to, Jesus Christ, he didnt want this. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, and there was one bastard Dean had to blame for this. But he'd be dealt with later, for now, Dean had a corpse that needed to be laid to rest properly... At least properly in his own viewpoint, demons probably did something different.

Adams blood stained his gloves and jacket from how tightly he'd pressed the corpse into a hug after finding him there, but he truly couldn't care less about that. Out of the few hundred things racing around in his mind, that wasn't even considered for a moment.

He crushed branches underfoot while he walked, if he was going to be buried anywhere, it wouldn't be at that goddamn village. Hell no, not in that bastards place, he deserved somewhere better to rest. He'd walk across the entire goddamn plains to find that spot if he had to, as long as he could bury his shovel into the ground to make the hole, thats all that mattered.

It wasn't long before he found the proper spot however, up a hill with flowers surrounding, the sun shining down on it from behind, hell. Dean wouldn't mind being buried somewhere like that spot himself, he just hoped Adam wouldn't mind- if he even knew about where his body was.

He continued to move, reaching the top and looking out at the view. Just high enough to see everything without having to crane his neck up or down, all in clear view for him. This is the spot he deserved, not behind some house, or anything like that.

"...pretty." He mumbled, "You'd like it.. I hope." A weak chuckle, then silence, the crushing reality still weighing down on him. He let out a soft sigh before setting the body down to the side ever so gently, watching closely how his literal dead weight slumped, his head rolling to the side- god.

The sight plunged a knife into Dean's heart and twisted it, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. Not for Adam at least, if anyone should've gone out like that, it should've been him, HIM. But that didn't matter now, at least that's how Dean got himself to stop thinking about that fact for another 20 minutes. At that rate, he would be joining in Adam in death before he even buried him.

To work he went, taking the iron shovel he stole out of his rig and pinpointing just where the body would be laid to rest. Starting at the foot of the soon to be made hole, Dean raised the shovel up to his side before thrusting it downwards. The spade dug into the ground before he pulled back up, taking a chunk of the earth with it.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, continuing to dig as he took the occasional glance at the ever unmoving body. He knew he was dead, but a part of him still wished that by sone miracle, Adam would simply rise back up. Everytime he looked he prayed he'd see something different, but no, it was the same gut wrenching sight.

"I shoulda been there, I should've been right with you, you'd... You wouldntve-..." Dean trailed off, fixing his gaze to the hole his brother would soon be in. That's now where he should be, no, he should still be there. He should've been happy, and still being a fucking moron, not THIS. Not taken out by some bastard who didn't deserve even a fraction of the shit he'd gotten, if he was there... Fuck.

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes and spread throughout, stinging them in the process. He continued to dig, pushing through nearly being blinded by his own emotions, both literally and figuratively. Each time the shovel struck into the ground, his actions became more and more forceful. Grunts turned into incoherently shouting as he rapidly pulled dirt up from the ground before slamming the shovel back down, and shouting turned into sobbing.

He practically collapsed onto his knees, only supporting his upper half with the handle of his tool as years of anguish finally poured out. His sobbing was ugly, his masked features contorting with the pain he'd kept bottled inside for ages. His chest ached, he couldn't breathe, his hands shook violently, he couldn't fucking think.

Everything was silent around him, aside from the occasional gust of wind, all that filled the air was his wails that echoed throughout the wilderness. This kind of pain was something he hadn't felt in quite some time, and he was barely able to pull himself together after what felt like hours of mindless bawling.

Still sniffling, Dean stood back up and buried the shovel into the ground next to the fresh hole, leaving both hands free for him to pick Adams corpse back up and set him down yet again. The sight hurt, and eager to both suppress the sight and finish the burial, Dean went back to covering the hole. Easier than digging it up, that was for sure.

"I'm gonna make this right, I swear." Dean sighed as he topped off the grave, patting the dirt down to smooth it out. His attention turned to a nearby tree with rather large branches sticking out from it, "I'll find some way." He continued, moving to the tree to rip off said branches.

His hands moved as fast as he could to wrap strings he'd carried in his jacket (among other things) around the two branches, fashioned into a rather shoddy cross. It was better than nothing, right? He tied the strings ends into tight knot, knocking the cross against the ground to make sure it wouldn't just fall apart at the first hard breeze. When it didn't break apart, Dean stood up and looked at the now covered grave.

Fuck.

He raised the cross above his head, the bottom of it aiming downwards which allowed him to stab it at the head of the covered hole. He pushed down once or twice in order to keep it in place as best as he could, and once he stepped back and looked at the sight, he couldn't help but feel something rather familiar travelling quickly to his chest, his hands, his mind.

Something in him boiled just beneath the surface, something in him demanded retribution for what had been done, and he could feel it spreading and infecting his mind once more. Something needed to be done about Blue, if that motherfucker would simply be allowed to walk free after what he'd done- oh, Dean would never be able to let it go.

His breathing grew heavier, compressed in his mask, and his goal became clear in the midst of his scorching rage. "I'm going to make this right." He claimed, grabbing the shovel out of the ground and lifting it up. "I promise."

Turning around and storming off with fury in his heart, Dean's destination was that damned village. He was going to paint Coasty with that bastards blood and brains, if he had any in the first place. That fucker was dead, and he was going out by Deans hands. It was the only thing he could do now.

Even though he failed Adam, he could at least avenge him, that had to count for something.

#something productive. thats rare for you ;art + drabbles; #EVERYONE HERE SUCKS ANYWAYS ;Coasty SMP;