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taffetastrology · 1 year

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The signs as José Ramón Larraz movie costumes

Aries

Taurus

Gemini

Cancer

Leo

Virgo

Libra

Scorpio

Sagittarius

Capricorn

Aquarius

Pisces

#the signs as #zodiac aesthetic #astrology #horoscope #José Ramón Larraz #exploitation film #horror #vampyres #the coming of sin #symptoms #marianne moris #anulka dziubinska

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thehandymen · 10 months

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i feel like this episode really drove home just how alone young gojo and geto were. it's been a running theme in the series for a while that sorcerers are often left to fend for themselves from pretty early on in their careers, and miwa even mentions at one point that people tend to keep others at a distance just because of how dangerous their work is and it's not worth grieving someone every other day. but even in a school setting, it's so obvious that the teachers and other adults solely exist to deliver instruction and delegate missions - no advice, no emotional support, no real guidance despite how draining their lifestyle can be and how young the students are. gojo, geto, riko, and kuroi show up at jujutsu high after 3 days of constantly being on guard and no one is waiting for them. during the mission there was no sign of yaga or anyone else checking in on how they were doing or if they needed any extra support (sending 2 of their underclassmen does not count). and i know to a certain extent the hands off approach is because they trust in gojo and geto's abilities but the amount of responsibility they were burdening literal children with is kind of insane. minor spoilers but geto's character development from here on out should not come as a surprise to anyone. especially with future scenes that we will be seeing animated (such as a certain one in the morgue), i hope this season will make it clear that adult gojo being protective of his students and willing to defy the higher ups is more than him just being cocky and "the strongest." jujutsu society and the system as a whole consistently failed him and his friends. he became the strongest because he had to be.

#if there is one thing gege has done right.#it's the depiction of youth in jujutsu society #the exploitation and the trauma and the heartbreak #'it is not a sin to be a child' did not just come from nowhere!#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk spoiler #gojo satoru #geto suguru #amanai riko #jjk season 2 #jujutsu kaisen season 2

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ghouljams · 2 months

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Fae using magic to make their partners bodies adapt when mating is so hot!!! 😩 The thought that it would break them if it wasn't for Fae manipulating their anatomy... screaming crying throwing up

The monster fuckers can come get their juice now, I'm doing monster fucking, size queen, shit.

It should hurt, it should split you open until you scream and sob, but when König pushes his monstrous cock into you it's slick and pulsing. You can't take your eyes off of it, your breath hitching in your chest as he pushes and pushes it into your tight cunt. It must be magic that keeps you from ripping, must be magic that let's your pussy hug his cock like a vice as he eases each inch into you. Not even halfway through and you can tell his cock is starting to bulge out your stomach, you clench around him and a monstrous growl echoes through the forest. He stretches you past what you ever thought possible, squeezes against every soft spot within you, and lets you feel every delicious inch of him. You can feel every vein, the ridge of his bulbous head where it butts against your cervix. Fuck, he's already hit the end, there's no more space for him.

König grinds against you, stirring you with his fat cock and making heat sizzle up your spine. You whine, eyes fixed between your legs at the monster settled inside you, the length left to go. König gives a testing thrust and something in you shifts. You jerk, arch your back with a breathless gasp as your body adjusts for him, forces itself to make room for the cock bigger than your arm. It's like nothing you've ever felt before. You stare, unseeing, at the forest your body wrapping around König like it was made for him as he slides every fat inch into your cunt. Your eyes roll back, you can feel him nudge your ribs, can feel him stretching your shirt and pushing against the already sliced waistband of your pants, god...

His drool drips onto the forest floor, mushrooms sprouting from the decaying leaves where it pools. You can hear the low growl vibrating through his chest, can feel the creak of the claws holding you up, the spread of them, the way his pinky presses against the head of his cock. You look down and whimper at the absolutely destruction that must be coursing through your body, the huge cock magically forced inside of you. You can't bring a single thought to your head, can only do your best to swallow down the greedy drool that fills your mouth, and listen to the wind whispering at the presence of a king. You may as well be a fleshlight in his hands. You can't feel your legs.

König moves you up and down his cock, using you to pleasure himself. You watch the motion of it greedily, fascinated, you must be dead ten times over to be letting this happen. But it doesn't hurt, there's just the warm aching drag of his thick cock against your insides. Each gummy inch of your cunt tries to keep him inside, clenching when he bumps your sensitive spots, making tight heat pool in your stomach. It's such a heavy pressure, unyielding, and deadly the way it shocks pleasure up your spine with each inch of movement. You come on his cock without meaning too, the orgasm too deep and wanting for you to anticipate, it breaks through you and König whines at the squeeze of your walls around him.

"Meine Königin," he rumbles, the very air, the click of his claws and teeth, the rustle of his fur and spines, seem to speak for him, "if you don't relax it's going to hurt."

You take a shaking breath and tip your head back to look up at the monster over you. His eyes are red, his teeth like tombstones. You stick your tongue out for him, your lips parted and your eyes bleary with barely contained tears. He smiles, and dips down to shove his tongue down your throat, the appendage wiggling inhumanly to stretch your poor throat the way his cock has stretched your pussy. He only pulls away when your lungs are starting to burn and your vision is starting to darken at the edges. You suck in a breath as he pulls you up the length of his cock and shoves you back down. The burn of it rips through you, and you scream for the whole forest to hear.

"Little masochist," König chastises, "of course you'd want it to hurt."

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makethemhoesmad · 15 days

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mine…

paige bueckers x reader

lol wrote this in 10 minutes

@lucespeaks this one’s for u

“hey, do you have, like, a marker or something?” what the fuck is paige on? she just fucked my brains out, and now, just as i’m falling asleep, she asks a dumb question like that. “why would you need that,” i ask, turning in her arms to look at her. “just give me a marker, please baby.” i groan, looking on my floor and seeing a red sharpie near my bed, for whatever reason. “good girl,” she mutters, pressing a kiss to my shoulder as she sinks under the blankets. i feel her cold hand moving over my bare upper thigh, then the felt tip of the pen. my stomach swoops, like it always does when she touches me like this. i hear her cap the marker, then leave a few wet kisses around it. her head surfaces the blanket, and she pulls me into her like nothing happened.

“paige, baby, what did you write?”

she grins with her eyes closed, whispering “mine,” against my neck

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #taylor swift #guilty as sin #expect more coming

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katakaluptastrophy · 5 months

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You know how it goes: through some incredible circumstances, God and a young woman living under the shadow of an oppressive empire have a metaphysically unusual baby who grows up to be a general nuisance, won't stay dead, and sports a few additional holes...

It's the third Sunday of Advent and I'm a little concerned Bible studies for weird goth kids might be turning into a series... Let's talk about the Blessed Virgin Mary and Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity.

Wake was probably never described as "gentle", "meek", or "mild", but there are a few similarities: distinctive outfits, snazzy shrines, commitment to putting down the mighty from their seats, and of course babies with great and terrible destinies niftily conceived without sex.

On the topic of conception, let's clear up a common, uh, misconception: the term "immaculate conception" does not refer to Mary becoming pregnant with Jesus. It's Mary's own conception.

Why are we talking about how Mary was conceived and what does this have to do with lesbian necromancers?

To answer that question, we have to go back further still, way before Mary's conception. Back to these guys and their unfortunate snack cravings:

Remember how last time we talked about the concept of being in a state of grace? Well, the Christian read on Adam and Eve is that a state of grace was, as it were, the factory setting for humanity. They were fully in tune with God, there was no sickness or death, there was no sin. Until, that is, the whole unfortunate business with the apple. The first sin. The world is fundamentally altered. Humanity is expelled from paradise, burdened with sin, death, disease, patriarchy, and work. Worse, this sinful human nature turns out to be sexually transmissible: every human being is born tainted by this "original sin" of Adam and Eve.

This is why Catholicism is so big on baptising babies: even if they're many years off being able to commit any sins themselves (a sin has to be something consciously chosen and understood), they're still contaminated by that original sin of Adam and Eve. Baptism is understood to erase original sin, wiping the slate clean.

Bear with me, we'll be back to necromancers soon I promise. Have a picture of Mary beating up the devil while an angel holds baby Jesus:

OK, but what does Adam and Eve's danger snack have to do with Mary's conception?

The "immaculate conception" refers to the idea that unlike every human being between Adam and Jesus, Mary was conceived without the contamination of original sin. The rationale for this is complex, but essentially boils down to something like the saving power of Jesus not being bound by piffling things like time and space and thus saving his mother before her own conception and allowing himself to also be conceived and born sinless.

But the important bit is that something specific about Mary means that she is uniquely able to be pregnant with Jesus.

You may be starting to guess where this is going...

Because while unconventional pregnancy seems to have been the plan from the get-go for Jesus, it was not with the artist formerly known as The Bomb:

“I had the baby,” said Wake. “The baby I’d had to incubate myself for nine long fucking months, when the foetal dummies these two gave me died.”

“Oh, God, it was yours,” said Augustine, in horror. “I thought you’d used in vitro on one of Mercy’s—”

“I said they all died,” said Wake. “The dummies died. The ova died. Only the sample was still active, no idea how considering it was twelve weeks after the fact, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“So you used it on yourself,” said Augustine. “Anything for the revolution, eh, Wake?”

We have to assume the foetal dummies plan was hatched by Mercymorn, a brilliant scientist with a myriad of experience. If the problem encountered by Wake were as simple as Lyctoral infertility, I suspect Mercy would have spotted that long before.

But what do Wake and John have in common that Mercymorn or any of the other ova-having residents of the Mithraeum did not? They are both (to some extent at least) factory setting humans: unlike everyone else in the Dominicus system, they never died and were resurrected, nor are they the descendants people who were. John's abilities, while macabre, are not straightforwardly the necromancy otherwise practiced in the Houses. That necromancy is a direct result of one specific act of taking that resulted in the very nature of the world changing: a thanergetic system, inhabited by human beings who, necromancer or not, are fundamentally tainted by thanergy and by the after effects of that action of John's. You might call it a sin. An indelible sin. He does.

It's not an exact parallel, but necromancy certainly occupies a space not dissimilar to original sin: the result of a single action, tainting every descendant of its progenitors regardless of their actions of abilities.

And then enter Gideon, born in space away from the thanergetic energy of the Dominicus system to a mother lacking the 10,000 year intergenerational burden of the resurrection and necromancy. The child of Jod, born to die.

#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt meta #awake remembrance of these valiant dead #commander wake #gideon nav #john gaius #Sin will not survive the second coming of Jesus so what does that say about necromancy at the end of the series?

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wingedblooms · 17 days

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IS THIS ANOTHER HINT FOR ELAIN?!?! ELRIEL? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[Verse 1]

Drownin' in the Blue Nile

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

I hadn't heard it in a while

My boredom's bone-deep

This cage was once just fine

Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of crackin' locks

Throwin' my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks

Crashin' into him tonight, he's a paradox

I'm seeing visions

Am I bad or mad or wise?

[Chorus]

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

I'm slippin', fallin' back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trips

Without ever touchin' his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

[Verse 2]

I keep these longings locked

In lowеrcase inside a vault

Someonе told me, "There's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk"

These fatal fantasies

Giving way to labored breath takin' all of me

We've already done it in my head, if it's make-believe

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

[Chorus]

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

I'm slippin', fallin' back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

My bed sheets are ablaze

I've screamed his name

Buildin' up like waves crashin' over my grave

Without ever touchin' his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

[Bridge]

What if I roll the stone away?

They're gonna crucify me anyway

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly

I choose you and me religiously

[Chorus]

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

I'm slippin', fallin' back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trips

Without ever touchin' his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

[Outro]

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

I hadn't heard it in a while

Am I allowed to cry?

#elain archeron #elriel #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #it’s coming #the tortured poets department #guilty as sin?#sarah is giving us a big hint

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plush-rabbit · 7 days

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The One Where Adam Steals Lucifer's Babe

Word Count: 4.9K A/N: I had an idea about this, but I wanted to get it out. This was supposed to be headcanons, but it turned into a story!! woo(•_•) This is also not done. Like I wanted it to be be headcanons so bad, but i need to establish a plot line because im like dumb. um, so yeah. if this does become anything more, i think max three chapter Its written as if Adam is a sinner so yeah!! -

Dating the King of Hell should be easy- nothing short of bliss and love. And it is easy being with the King of Hell, when he has to make appearances, and he has to put up a front. But being with Lucifer is much more difficult. You know he’s not over Lilith, and you aren’t even close to being a replacement for her. And yet, he keeps you around. You can trick yourself that he still wants you, that maybe he does enjoy being with you. But lying to yourself doesn't make anything easier. You walk out of the castle without a word to Lucifer, childishly hoping that he’d figure out that you weren’t there on his own. On your stroll to nowhere in particular, you check your phone constantly, hoping to see a missed message or call from him- some type of form that he still takes notice of you. You have to silence your phone when you feel tears prick your eyes at the empty screen.

You wind up in some sleazy bar, a bit too tipsy, and far too melancholic to do anything more than swirl a glass of alcohol with melting ice. You watch the condensation drip down the side of the glass, creating a ring over the coaster. Beside you, the chair scrapes, and your spirits are lifted. It’s Lucifer! He’s chased you down and now he’s going to apologize and proclaim his- your shoulders fall when you realize that it’s not Lucifer. The realization leaves you cold and far lonelier than you initially were. Instead, it’s Adam- the First Man. You wonder for a brief moment if he even still calls himself that.

“Mind your fuckin’ business,” he sneers, sitting beside you. He lifts his hand, and the bartender pushes a glass and a bottle towards him, muttering something about a tab under his breath before turning his attention elsewhere.

You heard he had become a Sinner- the very thing he sought to kill for entertainment not that long ago. However, you had yet to see him since he was stabbed by Niffty. You wonder if his new form has a hole in his back now.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he tells you, malice tinged at his words, but he makes no real motion to actively wave you off. You’re sure he would have if he was still divine.

A closer inspection reveals that he’s in far worse shape than you could have imagined. A beard that’s in the awkward phase of growing out, deep bags under his eyes, and gaunt cheeks. Hell has not been kind to him. But, what else could you have expected? He was an exorcist- the exorcist- and now, he’s stuck in Hell. Honestly, you should be surprised that his head isn’t mounted somewhere.

You turn back to your drink, and wipe a line of condensation off. “I’m surprised you’d even show your face around these parts,” you mumble, taking a swig of your drink. It burns going down, and you try to hide your displeased expression.

“Fuck you,” he hisses out, taking a long drink from the bottle.

“You know, as a former exorcist, I’d suggest being nice to demons around these parts.” You raise your hand at the bartender, and he walks over, and places the tab in front of you. “You never know who you’re gonna piss off next.” You leave a hefty amount, enough to cover your drinks and leave a pretty tip.

“What? You’re gonna sick Lucifer on me?” You turn to him, embarrassment hot on your cheeks, and he wears a crooked smile. “Your face and his are plastered everywhere I look.”

With a sigh, you push the check away from you. “Must suck for you,” you mumble. His response is to take a drink from the bottle. “I hated having my picture taken before,” you tell him, unsure if he’s even listening or not. “I felt that they never really got my good side.”

“I’d get photographed all the time in Heaven,” he says in a low tone after a moment of silence. “Bitches could never get enough of me.” You scrunch your nose at the word, and fold the straw wrapper into squares. “Fucking loved it.”

“Wish I loved the camera.” You cross your ankles together, tucking them under the seat of the stool. “I hated being looked at.”

There's a pause in the conversation, long enough that you believe the small talk has ended. You could go back to the castle but if Lucifer hadn't taken notice of your absence, you'd surely have a breakdown. Maybe you could go to the hotel. Charlie would understand. “You still get your picture taken?” Adam asks, his voice startling you.

You tilt your head to the side, underneath the seat, your legs twist around themselves. “Not as often as I used to. I think it was more like uh-” you wave your hand around and the folded wrapper unfurls itself- “shock value? I think. Like the King of Hell downgrading to some resident.” You smile bitterly. “Not even a Goetia or anything.”

“A Goetia?”

“These magical birds.” You look at him. “You’ve been in Hell for a bit, haven’t you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard or seen them.”

“I don’t get out a lot.”

“‘Cause you’re hated?” You ask, a wicked tone laced in your words. Adam responds by mocking your voice with the same question. You scoff with a smile on your face. “I wonder why, if you’re such a peach.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

It’s silent. And you watch as the bartender grabs your drink, leaving the coaster behind. A memory of drinking with Lucifer pops into your head- his honeyed smile as he pours you a glass of wine that you would have never been able to afford, to even be aware of such a delicacy that existed in Hell. Never would he have taken you to some dingy bar where less than savory individuals reside.

You’ve been taken care of. Pampered and adored for a considerable amount of time, before all the light had dimmed. You should have never allowed yourself to get used to such treasures. You glance over at Adam, and wonder if he can understand. “Do you come here often?” You ask him, crossing your arms over the bar. He chokes on his drink and slams the bottle down. He gives you a bewildered stare and you raise your shoulders defensively. “What? I’m just asking,” you say. “The bartender looks like he knows you.” You catch the bartender’s eyes and he quickly looks away. “Or at least enough to keep a tab open.”

“There’s not much to do around here,” he answers.

You fill your cheeks with air and let it slowly blow out through pursed lips. There's plenty to do- sort of. Minus the drugs and sex, most of Hell's greatest features are stuck in other rings. “There’s the Cannibal Sector,” you offer. “You gotta be careful but Rosie is nice and she sells pretty things. I have this hairpin in the shape of a human hand.” Adam gives you a look. “It might be a real hand, huh.”

“The fuck are you even doing out of your castle.”

You deflate. “Rough night,” you say with a sigh. “What about you?”

“Rough night,” he answers

You nod in solidarity. “I’m not usually a drinker,” you confess. “The taste is a bit too bitter for my liking. But being at the castle just wasn’t-” it’s not for you, the pampered life, acting as a placeholder, the King- “I didn’t want to be there.”

When Adam fails to say anything else, you feel embarrassed to even say something like that to the former angel beside you. He wouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. Why would he ever worry himself over the likes of you, when your supposed partner couldn’t. He sniffs, and places the bottle down. It’s nearly empty.

“Where do you want to be then?” His eyes are still golden, unblinking as he stares.

Gold meets your own eyes, and you flicker to the horns over his head, curling overhead much like his former exorcist mask. You look back at his eyes, at the way he holds the bottle loosely. “I don’t know,” you confess.

There’s a moment of silence, and he finishes the last bit of alcohol. You wonder how many he usually drinks before he goes back home. “You wanna come over?” He asks, and there’s a shade darker that brushes against his cheeks, and he tries to ask nonchalantly, but he toys with the words, and he swallows too harshly for him to not be worried about your answer. As if he’s asking some forbidden question. But, you’re lonely, and you don’t want to be alone in a bar longer than you already have been.

You look at the exit, half-hoping that Lucifer would be there, ready to take you to his home, and a part of you is glad that he isn’t there. You look back at Adam, and nod your head. “Lead the way,” you tell him.

The sound of the bartender yelling behind you about a tab, has you smiling, feeling as if you’re dining and dashing despite you having paid for your portion. Adam doesn’t seem to care, walking without breaking a stride, just waving his hand without looking back.

It doesn’t take long before you’re climbing up steps that need to be looked at, rust falling off with each bounce. You’re sure that you can hear something unsavory going on in a room, but a whistle from Adam has you scurrying along. There’s no reason that you should know anything more than you already do.

You enter his apartment, and take a careful look around. It’s messy- clothes strewn across, dishes left out, and you feel pity for him. A single couch is close enough to the rather small television, a coffee table that has paint chipping and dents is one of the few pieces of furniture in the rooms. A sliding door is closed, a few broken blinds giving you just a glimpse into the outside. “You certainly,” you pause, trying to find something nice to say, “have a place,” you end defeatedly. You stand near the door, clicking the lock into place, as if that would protect you from any dangers out in the world. Perhaps you should be worried about Adam, about the angel who would bear his fangs and be drenched in blood, too excited about senseless murder. But you catch him kicking things under the couch, trying to spruce up the place even if just by a smidge.

“Fuck you,” he says without conviction. He grabs at a pile of clothes and tosses it on top of a chair, leaving the couch clear for you and him to sit. Smiling softly, you take a seat. He places himself close to the arm rest, and watches as you look around. “I uh, I clean- sometimes.” He sounds unsure of himself.

“I like cleaning,” you tell him, grabbing at a magazine on the worn out coffee table. It’s some tabloid, and you see a snippet of you and Lucifer in the corner. You turn to the page where you two are supposed to be. It’s titled as “Issues at Home?” You frown, and turn to another page. “I like organizing and stuff. Um, it helps uh, Lucifer. He does a lot of projects.”

“You don’t got any?”

“I have hobbies, but they come and go.” Your eyes skim the page, talking about Velvette’s new clothing line. You pull your lips into a thin line, a part of you wants to wear her outfits, but you aren’t sure you could pull them off. “It’s all just-” you flutter a hand in the air- “you know, stuff.” You place the magazine back on the table. “What about you?”

He smiles and leans back on the couch, the cushion creasing under his weight. “I like to play the guitar.” You perk at the mention, and watch as he rests his hands over his stomach. “I was in a band. Played the guitar, got all the chicks that I wanted.”

“Were you good at the guitar?”

He nods his head. “Oh, you should’ve fucking seen me. I was like a fucking god on stage.” He holds his hands out and mimics a guitar. You huff out a laugh, and watch as he lets his hands fall. “I got to fuck whoever I wanted. And I mean, who wouldn’t want to fuck me? Look at me.” he tosses you a lazy look, matched with a sly smile, and you can see how people would be attracted to him. “I was the first dick– of course, everyone wanted me.”

“What songs would you perform?”

“Rock mostly.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Crowd went wild.”

“You’d perform in heaven?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. If I felt bold, sometimes the band and I would do a show on Earth. I’m telling you humans would just throw themselves at you, begging to be fucked in some grimy ass restroom.”

You scrunch your nose. “Sounds gross.”

“It was,” he says with a faltering smile. He cocks his head to the side, and there’s a softness to his words. “Gross as shit, but the girls were hot.”

You cross your ankles together, and turn to face him. Your arm cushions itself between the couch and your head to watch him. “Do you not play anymore?” you ask hesitantly,

He sucks on his bottom lip, teething at the skin, before letting it go. “I haven’t tried to summon my harp- guitar- shit, thing, since I’ve been here.” He closes his hands into a loose fist and kicks his legs up on the beaten coffee table. “There’s this pawn shop a few streets down, and they have this guitar for sale.”

“Are you thinking about buying it?”

“I have other shit to worry about.” He gives you a look, a fleeting sense of exhaustion and acceptance that washes over him, that makes him feel a bit more real, a bit more like you. “It isn’t even that good.” He sounds like a child, trying to justify something to themselves. “It’s beat up, and the strings are probably worn-” he shakes his head- “it's not worth it.” You open your mouth to reassure him that it probably is worth it. That despite the condition that it’s in and the price for it, if he wants it, it's worth it. Even if he could never play it, even if it’ll never be restored to its original beauty, it would be his. You only manage to suck in a gulp of air, when a knocking at the balcony door grabs your attention. “Some fucking bird that keeps bothering me.” He looks over at you, and glances back to the door, and back at you. “I have a balcony. Wanna sit outside?”

You nod quickly, closing your mouth. “Yeah.”

He walks past the door, and leaves it open for you. Just like when you entered, you close the door behind you, half-heartedly hoping that it won’t lock behind you. His balcony holds two chairs- both different kinds and both equally as rough looking. A part of you wonders where exactly he got this furniture. There’s a dying plant shoved in the corner, the leaves brown and stem wilting under the weight of the dying leaves.

“Quit judging,” he snips.

You scoff, a smile teasing at the corner of your lips. The air of Hell is cool, wind breezing over your skin and you stare down into the streets, watching as Imps and Sinners live their lives, peacefully uninterrupted. Sitting down, your breath hitches when the chair dips under your weight. It’s quiet between the two of you, silence in each other’s company where you both just stare at the world in front of you.

You can see the holy light from the embassy, and you can see Heaven’s light- the rings that are protected by wings. It lights up the night sky far better than the pentagram ever has, and sitting under the light of it, makes you wonder if anything is different in Heaven since Adam’s death- or rather, reincarnation. “Do you miss Heaven?” You ask, before you can register the weight of the words that it holds. You turn to him, almost scared of any answer that he would give.

“That’s a stupid question,” he spits out. You don’t respond, and you stay looking at him. He turns his head to avoid your gaze, his legs stretching out in front of him. After a beat of silence, he looks ahead of him. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I do.”

“What do you miss about it?”

“Full of fucking questions, aren’t ya?” He stays silent, and after a moment, he lets out a soft sigh. “Everything.”

“There’s not many stories about Heaven down here. You know, minus the ones that we all know. The golden gates-”

“Pearly gates,” he corrects. You look at him, and he has his eyes casted down. “They’re pearly.”

“The pearly gates,” you correct, “the clouds, the happiness and peace. I just- Other than that, there’s nothing else to go off of. But I guess, why would I know. Heaven seems so far away, like some mythical place.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t talk about it?” Adam asks with a sneer.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. “He doesn’t like talking about Heaven. Sometimes-” you lick your lips- “Sometimes it feels like he hates everything and everyone down here. Like he can’t stand the idea that he’s stuck here.” You scratch your neck, and pinch your legs together. “It’s like the memories of Heaven are too painful.”

“That magazine said y’all were breaking up.”

“Maybe,” you answer.

“You can talk about it if you want. Would make this night a helluva lot more interesting.” You look at him. “I’m all ears.”

“And horns,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he says with an impish tone.

You smile, and kick out your legs. Your phone buzzes, and with hope, you believe that it’ll be Lucifer. Your heart sinks when it’s only a notification from Sinstagram. With a frown, you silence your phone. “In the beginning, it was easy to forget that he was married. I mean, I always knew. He has her portraits hanging, and he talks about Charlie constantly.” You smile bitterly and scratch at your phone case. “I don’t blame him for that, but-” you shrug- “it hurts knowing that he still clings to her.” When Adam stays silent, you continue. “He can be kind- real attentive and sweet. But sometimes, when he’s had a uh-” you struggle to find a word- “a bad day, he gets real low. And I hate to admit it, but he gets clingy and it’s nice to know that I can still serve him in some way.” Your fingers pinch at the bridge of your nose, and you let your hand cover your mouth. “But then, there are moments, where it feels like he’s actually looking at me- where he’s just everything,” you say wistfully, your hand stretching out in front of you, clasping around the night air. You glance at Adam, who watches your hand as you pull it back to yourself. “Sorry, I uh, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“So why’d you leave then?”

Perhaps you’d get a biased opinion- you’re aware of how Adam feels over Lucifer, and practically every other inhabitant of Hell. He thinks of himself above any other, his own pride being the very thing that made him unaware of Niffty running towards him. You chew on your lip, your hand scratching over your neck. You need to speak to someone. No one else at the hotel will ever give you a straight answer- or at least the answer that you want to hear.

With a sigh, you kick your legs out in front of you. “I like Lucifer.” You can feel his eyes on you. “But, sometimes,” you drag the word, and your body feels hot, “it’s like he’s not present in the relationship. He gives a lot, but he hardly ever asks for anything.”

There’s a pause. “What could you even give him?” he asks in sincerity.

There’s a pang in your chest, wrapping tightly, threatening to crush your bones, and leaving you a battered and broken mess on Adam’s balcony. You can’t give him anything that he doesn’t want. He has his daughter, he had his wife, he has his title for better or for worse. All you can offer is a moment of content, and even then it seems that you can no longer do that.

You shrug your shoulders at an attempt of a weak answer. “I know that he’s still not over his wife. Or ex-wife. I'm not too sure of the title and I hate to ask. He gets all mopey and deflective.” You kick at the ground, and insecurity hugs you tightly, and drips into your words. “He stares at portraits of her, and well, it’s hard to compete with the literal Queen of Hell, when I’m just-” your jaw stiffens, and you look at the ground through blurring eyes- “me.” You stand in her shadow without even having met her. “Even when I dress up, I feel like a child playing pretend. I don’t- I’m not like her.” You’ve stared at her portraits that still hang in the palace, and they consume you. Her smile, her delicate hands, and the elegance that is so evident in portraits. It feels childish to compare yourself to someone so regal and poised.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “My ex was pretty hot.” Your eyes widen, and you turn to him. “They both were.” He lets out a sigh, and keeps his eyes fixed in front of him.

“Adam,” you squeak out. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, blood rushing to your face, making your body uncomfortably warm. “I hadn’t meant- I didn’t mean to talk about her with you. I’m so sorry.”

“The fuck are you apologizing for?” He asks, eyes narrowed and mouth twisting to an ugly sneer.

You cross your arms over your chest, bringing them to an ‘X’ where your hands curve over your biceps. “It’s just that I’m talking about Lucifer and your ex-wife.” You frown when he gives you an ugly look. “I just- I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gives a shrug of his shoulders, his gaze still focused elsewhere. “Lucifer already talked shit about how he banged both of them. It's whatever.”

Your brows furrow, and you watch as Adam pats his pockets, fisting a hand into one of his pants pockets. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing on and sticking the tan end of it into his mouth. He motions the carton at you, and you pull your mouth into a thin line.

“If you're gonna bitch about smoking, you're one lame sinner.”

“Eve? He slept with Eve, too?”

“Oh shit.” The cigarette hangs between his teeth, until pulls it back into his mouth. “You didn't know.” He almost sounds apologetic. He grabs at a lighter and it takes a few clicks to light the white of the stick.

“He doesn't really talk about his sex life before me.” You slump further into yourself, your nails scratching over your skin. “It's in the past. I know I shouldn't be hurt over what he's chosen to share with me, but-” you toss your head back, and in the red sky, the stars are dim. “I don’t know. It just feels like another kick on a shitty night, ya know?”

“I’m shitty?” He almost sounds offended.

“No, no” you shake your head. “If anything, you’re like the one good thing out of this night.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t so bad yourself.” You turn to him, your head cocked to the side. “You got a nice body. If you weren’t stuck here, I would’ve bagged you already.” You stretch your lips thin, and Adam shrugs, blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re easy on the eyes.”

“Thanks Adam,” you say hesitantly. He holds out the cigarette towards you and you wave your hand. “I’m good.”

“So what now? You gonna go back to him?”

“I don’t even think he knows that I’m gone,” you say honestly. The confession makes you feel lighter than you thought it would. “It’s comfortable with him. It’s easy- I don’t have to worry about things, but, I also don’t have to worry about anything. And sometimes, I want to worry. I want him and I to argue about dumb shit, and I want to worry if he’s coming to bed or not, and not being resigned to the fact that I know he won’t.”

The silence is broken by the scraping of the chair, and you watch as he rises, stretching his arms above him, the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Eve tolerated me,” he says quietly, letting out a breath of smoke. You look at him, biting at the inside of your cheeks. “She loved me for a while. She was devoted to me. But I uh- I’m pretty sure that was because she was made from me.” A hand cups over his side. “Blind loyalty or whatever. But when she bit that apple, whatever she felt for me was gone.” He speaks quietly, and slowly, as if the words and the thoughts of it were slowly piecing themselves together, a puzzle that he had long put away in order for it to never make sense. “She didn’t care what I did as long as I left her and the-'' someone below lets out a scream, and Adam turns to you, his face flashing a moment of vulnerability before he looks away and puts out the cigarette under his boot. “Well, Eve was Eve.” His brows soften, and he looks tired. “I didn’t tolerate her.”

“Meaning?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “I did love her. She had a part of me after all.” He looks over at you, and his hand tightens over his side, pulling at the fabric. “But that’s not important anymore.” He turns away, and walks back inside. You scurry after him, making sure to lock the balcony door behind you.

You stand awkwardly in the room, unsure of what to do next. Truth be told, you had planned to spend the night in some dingy motel if Adam hadn’t sat beside you. But now you’re here, in his dingy apartment, truths and insecurities laid out for the two of you to bear witness. A part of you wants to bid him goodnight, and maybe when you’d see him out in the streets, you’d give him a cordial nod, and remember how he listened and talked about his ex-wife, and he’d remember you in positive light, despite you only being a mess of insecurities wrapped in sin.

But now, you don’t want to leave. At least a part of you wants to continue this conversation, to keep the comfort wrapped tight around you. You tap your foot against the ground and Adam looks at you, his eyes staring at yours, unwavering from yours. You hadn’t realized just how powerful he stood beforehand.

“You can stay if you want,” he says slowly, unsure of the words that he’s saying. “Take the couch or whatever,” he attempts to sound indifferent, but you can hear the sincerity in the words, uncomfortable, but sincere. “I got a spare blanket you can use.” His teeth are sharp, and they peek out to tease at his bottom lip.

“Really?” You ask, eyes wide and you take a step forward, and he looks away. “I can?”

His mouth thins into a grimace, and he gives a forced shrug. “Do whatever you want.”

You look at the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable to sit on, but you’re sure you’ll wake up with a sore back. However, you don’t want to go back to Lucifer, and you don’t want to go to some dingy motel where you’re sure you’ll drink until you’re sick. Looking back at Adam, you nod, a smiling teasing at the corners of your lips, and he finally looks away from you.

“Yes!” You clear your throat. “Yes,” you say in a softer tone. “I’d like that. Thank you, Adam.”

“Whatever.” He walks into his bedroom, and you sit on the couch. He returns with a blanket, and he stands at the end of the couch, looking at you. “I’m not making you breakfast or anything. You gotta figure that shit out on your own.” You nod. The only real worry that you have is that your phone’s battery is at an uncomfortable percentage that you aren’t sure is going to last you.

“I hope Hell is nice for you.” He raises his brows at you. “It’s shitty and the smell of decay is always kinda there, but sometimes, it’s nice down here.”

“Hell is supposed to suck.”

“And it does,” you say with a shrug. “But not all the time, Ads.”

“Don’t call me that.” He tosses a blanket at you- it’s thin and threads have begun to unravel at the seams, but it’s soft. “I’m turning off the lights.”

“Goodnight,” you call out, holding the blanket close to you. You can only smile when the response is a closed door.

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aro-in-danyl · 14 days

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Helluva ships - featuring Radioapple

Mammon does in fact tattle to Lucifer about Asmodeus and Fizz's relationship. Let's say the Helluva timeline lines up with Lucifer and Alastor getting closer sometime after season 1.

Lucifer doesn't know why Mammon bothered, even if Lucifer didn't have whatever was going on between him and Al -- he still wouldn't give a fuck. And he'd give even less of a fuck considering Mammon was still committing copyright infringement for his park, the audacity of that man was astronomical.

Still, Mammon calls a meeting to spill the tea because even he knows Lucifer is a hermit who does not keep up with the drama of Hell's so-called elite.

Asmosdeus finds out and therefore Blitzø finds out. So they all crash the meeting to give Mammon what-for. Fizz and Blitzø because they've never met Lucifer and think he's going to be pissed. Moxxie and Millie because Blitzø lied about where they were going and refused to let them leave. Stolas for moral support (and he's also never met the King, sue him, he's excited despite the circumstance) and Ozzie because he couldn't stop them so he might as well join them.

Following multiple very unnecessary pit-stops and shenanigans, they finally arrive at the palace---and it's too late.

Alastor has already kicked Mammon out and now he and Lucifer are doing paperwork, gossiping, and fighting over the (according to Alastor) tacky interior design of the palace.

The Helluva gang bust in (Blitzø is on a horse for some reason, he's very happy about this) and it's very anti-climatic.

Asmodeus: so you...don't care that I'm in love with an imp?

Lucifer, dad mode: You're in love? I'm so proud of you!

Blitzø: Just to be clear, I'm fucking this bird, there's nothing you can do about it

Lucifer: Okay??

Alastor: Darling, they think you care about hell's hierarchy

Lucifer: Oh! Yeah, uh-no. That'd be pretty hypocritical of me considering [gestures to Alastor]

The Helluva crew leave the palace once Lucifer and Alastor start bickering again looking like they've escaped a hurricane, wondering if they should be sending the King of Hell a 'Congratz on the Divorce' card.

Moxxie: ...does this mean we have two Kings now?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #appleradio #duckiedeer #helluba boss #fizzmodeus #fizzarolli #fizzarozzie #helluva boss blitz #stolas x blitz #helluva mammon #I mean I also think this could apply to Lucilith since she is technically a sinner #but people like Mammon and the elite are hypocrites so it didn’t even occur to them that Lucifer wouldn't care #also I'm really starting to come around to LilithxRosie so she also does not care about the hierarchy #the true reason Lucifer is king is bc all of the other sins treat Lucifer like their dad and all of hell misinterpreted it as him being king #Lucifer at some point: I don't care WHO started it-

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drakaripykiros130ac · 3 months

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Just a daily reminder that Queen Aemma Arryn had only one living child.

Alicent Hightower had four.

And yet the surviving bloodline which created a new Targaryen dynasty that lasted for many years after and produced several incredible Kings, beautiful Princesses, skilled warriors and a Queen came from the one living child of Queen Aemma.

This is what I call poetic justice.

#Alicent Hightower got what was coming to her in the end. She could have produced 10 children and all of them would have died for her sins.#team black #pro team black #aemma arryn #queen aemma #anti alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #anti team green #canon asoiaf #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #queen rhaenyra #anti greens #hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire

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