Snowed In

"I killed another houseplant bc of executive dysfunction"

Mundane

Evokes helplessness

Kind of a bummer

"Plagued by demons as I am, my crops have withered yet again"

Powerful imagery

Frames you as a gothic protagonist

Emphasizes that you are hounded by demons

How fucking cool are demons???

idk if people still do this, but if you’re cishet can you not joke about gaydar/being able to identify queer people who aren’t out yet? tacky

look at this photo i took of my cat its really important

“if you liked this title you may enjoy” but with animal species

Reposting this piece after some edits!! :)

Also debating working on a piece where non cannon MC becomes friends with Mephisto and subsequently Sylus himself👀

I was possessed to write this Rafayel Siren piece yesterday so now i’m gently sliding it across your dash :)

Sort of proof read? this is my first time writing anything for LADS so be kind plz

TW: super mega angsty!! drowning, mentions of suicide, rafayel being messy as always, MC does not recognize him yet again, damn. Gender neutral pronouns used

The voice was soft, a crooning hum that beckoned to them as they searched for the source.

The ship creaked under their feet, groans of warning going ignored as they checked the empty barrels and scanned the lifeboats. The wind had the ship leaning away from them, it brushed against their nightdress as if to say cut your losses and come back in, it’s cold and you are alone here.

They had long forgotten how to give in, fighting the wind and the ship to keep searching for the source of the haunting song.

It was growing louder now as they scanned the ship, catching a flash of movement in the water out of the corner of their eye.

Spinning towards it, they peered out at the ocean and the humming stopped. The beautiful voice had gone and they found themselves sick in its absence.

They held their breath, waiting in silence, scanning the ocean apprehensively.

After a few minutes, right when they were about to give up, it- he emerged from the depths.

There, about 50 feet in front of the ship, was a siren. It was a monster from forgotten folklore that was staring back at them, unblinking.

The creature tilted its head then, picking up his song again as he seemed to size up the human that squinted down at him.

The song was beautiful, better than anything that had been played by the ship’s crew on drunken nights, better than the records that man would play in his house when they visited him, always accompanied by touches against their will. They had never felt such peace from music, stepping towards the side of the bow to hear it clearer.

They stuttered a gasp as he swam closer, afraid to spook him away, barely breathing as he approached the ship. They could hear him clearer now, a lilting tune in a foreign language that seeped through their bones and tugged on their dress, pulling them closer to the edge of the boat.

Sharp nails scraped against the wood of the ship as he touched it, a small knowing smirk gracing his features at the human’s dazed expression.

His eyes were glowing, blue and purple swirling as he held their glance. His song was so calming, his chest vibrating with the effort as he studied them.

A harsh voice cut through his tune, breaking them free from his trance.

They hadn’t realized they were leaning so far towards him until he was cut off, hands moving to catch themself on the railing and take a step back as the gruff voice prattled on from behind them in the galley.

The ship’s chef, an old, overworked, bitter man, was complaining about a lack of etiquette again as he prepped for the next morning’s rations.

They knew he wouldn’t be any danger to them, but the siren was thrown off, looking for the source of the sound with an ill-concealed scowl. Something huge broke the water behind him, a fin slicing through the water.

His tail whipped behind him, sharp edges and points flashing out of the water as he muttered in annoyance at being interrupted.

Where there once would have been dread and fear, a sickly hope seemed to arise in them. Was this their chance at an out? Had the gods listened to their prayers and offered him as their escape? Steeling their nerves, they drew a breath before softly calling to him.

“You have a beautiful voice.” They glanced around to check for prying eyes before whispering to the man. “Are you here to kill me?”

He pondered this for a second, before he responded in an equally gentle tone. “I am.”

They nodded, as if expecting this. “Ah, alright. If I promise not to fight, can you promise it won’t be violent?”

“What?”

“I said, I am willing to come down if you can promise me it will not be too painful.”

Confusion crossed his face.

“You’re willing to drown?”

“If I know it’s kind, gentle in-“ they gestured towards him “-In whatever way you are capable, I am. I am trapped here, I’ll die of worse means if I don’t drown by yours.”

He looked away to contemplate her words, before looking back with a serious expression, his tone heavy.

“If you come into the water, I will eat you.”

“Could you wait to eat my body until after I’ve drowned? That would be kindness.”

He paused at that, seemingly considering their words before a frown crossed his face and he scowled up at them.

“This is a trap isn’t it? You’re bargaining for promises to turn them on me. I’ve lost my friends to ships like this. I will not fall for it again.” He opened his mouth to sing again before they wildly gestured at him to stop.

He froze, opening and closing his mouth in shock before deciding to close it, giving them an insulted pout.

They thanked him breathlessly, pleading with the agitated siren below them.

“I swear I mean you no harm. What can i say to make you trust me? I promise I do want to die.”

The siren picked at something under his long nails as he spoke.

“Why not kill yourself? Why are you offering your death to me? I can take it without the promise, or I could agree and change my mind. I am not of the mind to agree on a humans whim.” He huffed. “If you want kindness, why ask me? I know the tales you are taught, sirens are not known to be gentle.”

Running their hands through their hair, they mumbled

“Because I am a coward.”

He did not comment, turning to watch them speak with an unreadable expression.

“I’ve tried, I can’t do it.”

They glanced towards the bridge of the ship with a sigh before focusing on the siren.

“The men in there, they’re planning to sell me. In 3 days they will trade me to a man who can offer them fine things. They believe me a woman, that I’m fit to be his wife. He is a horrid person. I have known the pain of his hands and I will die before I know it again. Besides, why not trust someone who is practiced in killing? Do you not enjoy it?”

For a brief moment, barely a second, the siren looked sad. Almost wounded at their words. Then, he spoke.

“I do.”

“Alright, If you can swear you will be as gentle as you can, I will give you my death, my soul, and a meal. All I have ever been is a tool for those around me, I just want to go out of my own choice. I truly to die, I’m begging you.”

The voices of more men cut through his silence, panic rushing through them at the thought of getting caught outside again. The crew was stirring, they’d find them missing from their bedchamber at any moment and all hell would break loose.

“Please, promise me what you can and I’ll come into the water.”

He pushed. “Why don’t you ask me to drown them in your stead? Why don’t you beg to be spared?”

“I have no right to offer any lives but my own.”

His tail thrashed in the water. Something about the weight of their words, the honesty in their tone irritated him.

The men aboard this ship would fight him, would have traded this persons life for their own in a heartbeat.

He had drowned hundreds of them, he knew how they’d lie and cheat to escape death. He glared at the ship, the carvings of sirens in the wood mocking him with twisted grins.

“I’ll drown them anyways. I will have no kindness left to let them leave.”

They smiled, an almost imperceptible lift of her lips as they nodded at his words. The wind howled and whipped the side of their face, pulling at their clothes as though trying to keep them aboard. They leaned farther over the railings, desperate to hold the creatures eyes.

“Well? Can you promise?”

“Rafayel.” He offered his name before he could think, they blinked at him as it registered on their tongue. He was trusting them with his name.

He was going to agree.

“Do you promise me, Rafayel?”

“I promise you, y/n. Climb down and I’ll drown you, I will wait to eat you until you are gone. You have my word.”

At the sound of their name from his lips, they paused.

“Wait- how did you learn my name? I don’t remember sharing it.”

He ignored their question.

“Come into the water y/n. I am not patient by nature, I will not wait.”

The finality in his voice had them moving. Maybe some things were better left unknown.

Kicking off their shoes and pulling out their hair tie they swung one leg over the side of the ship and then the other, using the gnarled wood and barnacles as footholds as they lowered themself down towards the sea, towards the siren below.

The voices of crew mates grew louder, the ships lanterns lighting again as the crew awakened above them.

As the water grew closer, they felt a large cold hand reach for theirs. They took it, moving carefully as he guided them down into the waves.

As soon as they were safely off the ship, he dropped their hand and grumbled something, his ears slightly reddening.

Now that they were face to face, he was struck by how long it had been since he’d last seen them.

He stayed just out of reach, a long forgotten feeling of apprehension and sorrow settling a lump in his throat. He swallowed it down. This was for the better.

He hoped they would be true to their pretty words. He knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse if they changed their mind.

They stared back, a nervous noise escaping them at how cold the ocean was. He sighed.

“Take a breath, y/n.”

They obeyed, inhaling and squeezing their eyes shut tightly before he reached for them again, pulling them into the depths.

As he weaved downwards, he shifted to cradle their body in his large form, swimming away with his prize.

They did not fight, exactly as they had promised. He had half expected them to change their mind, to struggle and kick him but they were as docile as a lamb, a catch worth the small weight of a promise.

Despite this, under his hands he could feel their struggle, the life in them still fighting its last fight. A heart much faster than his own underneath his hands. He reveled in the knowledge that he would be the one to take it from them, that their death would be his and his alone. Final.

The water was heavy, they noted as it seeped into the cracks of their eyelids, in their ears and through the corners of their mouth.

True to his word, his hands were gentle, sharp nails barely pricking their skin as he held them to his body.

The gills on his neck and chest barely scraped them, they could hardly sense the bloodlust that he harbored.

This was kindness, this was what they had wanted.

Tears pricked their vision at the strain of it all before dissipating into the surrounding water.

Their lungs burned, struggling to filter through the stagnant air that remained in their blood.

They would have to take a breath soon, and it would be over. They had heard it was painless once you gave in. That it felt soothing, cold water rushing in to sooth the aches of a last ditch effort to survive.

They hoped it was peaceful, that death would cradle them as softly as Rafayel did.

After a minute he stopped swimming, now gently swaying under the tides pull as he held their body to his chest.

Using the last bits of their energy, they moved to hold his hand, clutching his webbed fingers between their own as they opened their eyes.

His eyebrows rose but he made no move to stop them, holding their hand just as firmly. It was soft in his palm, the warmth slowly draining from them. He supposed this was part of his duties, that he could offer them this as part of the kindness he had agreed to.

The ocean water stung as they stiffened in shock at the view before them. Corals swayed, fish trailing through the sea bed as the light from the surface danced on the floor below them.

It was beautiful, far from the murky depths they had anticipated. The colors were soft, dulled by the depths and motion, a final gorgeous painting to view.

Turning to look at him, they moved to smile before their mouth opened of its own accord, a strangled gasp leaving them as the ocean ran in to claim them.

He held their hand tighter now, using his other to softly cradle their face.

He hadn’t been kind in years, yet it felt like a second nature to comfort them, using the pads of his thumbs to stroke their cheek, a soft hum from his chest weaving its way through to soothe them.

Rafayel had not used his voice like this in years, beckoning souls to a violent end for so long he had forgotten the care he was once capable of.

Their grip on him loosened, their eyes glassing over as they relaxed into his hold. This was it, lifetimes of avoiding his duty for them, for the sake of their love, and now he had finally fulfilled his service to the sea. Pearls floated around them, a part of him breaking at how small they were, just another empty shell now for him to make something of.

As if a forgotten power was awaking, the tides seemed to pull him, beckoning him to finish the sacrifice he had denied so many centuries ago.

A long forgotten power was waking up at the heart of the ocean.

The mark on his chest had already begun to fade.

adventure time slang is weird cuz like. when you first watch the show and hear the slang you're like "oh this is cringy slang but its not like awful" but it gets to a point where the voice actors deliver the slang so naturally you don't even notice it and its just. part of the world's vernacular. I can't think of any other show that's done in-universe slang like this

this was a request from a kind anon.

summary: reader who really likes horror movies.

xavier | zayne | sylus | caleb

rafayel x reader | fluff

Rafayel watches you from where he's lounging sideways on your couch, head propped on a pillow like some tragic Victorian poet. He looks criminally comfortable for someone sitting through a 1970s horror slasher. The kind with grainy film and uncomfortably long shots of people doing absolutely nothing before something awful happens.

But you, you are in your element.

You're sitting cross-legged with your notebook in your lap. Well, notebook is a strong word. It's more like a fabric-bound monster of its own. A monstrosity of dog-eared pages, scribbled thoughts, bookmarks made of candy wrappers, and a paperclip that's given up on doing anything useful.

You're scribbling furiously with a glittery gel pen as the killer's silhouette appears behind the protagonist on screen.

''You see that?'' you say, eyes gleaming as you pause the movie, so you can better gesture with your pen. ''They used high-contrast techniques to create deep shadows and strong highlights, blurring the line between the physical and the psychological. It's a callback to The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari-expressionist influences, full circle. Ugh! So good.''

Rafayel raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

''Cutie,'' he says, voice thick with amused affection, ''only you could make murder sound like a love letter.''

You grin without looking up. ''I don't like the gore, I like the craft. There's intention in every frame. Every light. Every angle. The violence is just…contextual punctuation.''

He hums thoughtfully. ''A semicolon of suffering.''

''Exactly!''

There's a moment of silence as you flip a few more pages, trying to find your breakdown of the film's lighting progression. Rafayel leans over a little, pretending to peer into the book, but mostly just using it as an excuse to get closer.

He taps one corner gently. ''Is that…a pressed flower?''

''Yes. From the Suspiria screening. The remake, not the original.''

''Of course,'' he murmurs, clearly having no idea what that means but delighted all the same.

Then, softly, ''You carry entire universes in this book of yours.''

You blink, caught off guard. ''It's just a notebook.''

He smiles like you've said something heartbreakingly naive. ''It's a testament. To what you love. To how your mind works. And if I may say so,'' he traces the notebook's tattered edge with a fingertip, ''that is its own kind of romance.''

You feel your face heat up.

''I mean, if you really want romance,'' you say, trying to regain footing, ''we could watch Crimson Peak next. The actors have said that it's a very passionate love story, supported and complemented by fantastic elements. And not to forget, it's the first film in the Mystery Horror Genre. ''

He exhales a laugh. ''That might be the most you version of flirting I've ever heard.''

You bump your shoulder against his, smiling. ''You're still here listening.''

''Cutie, I would sit through a thousand jump scares and a dozen cursed VHS tapes just to hear you talk about third-act structure and prosthetic gore.''

''…Even found footage films?''

He shudders. ''Let's not test the strength of my devotion.''

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder as you unpause the movie. He adjusts slightly, letting you rest against him while your chunky notebook stays balanced in your lap. His hand finds yours, thumb brushing softly over your fingers as the scene resumes.

Blood erupts on cue, the soundtrack crashing down like a closing curtain.

And Rafayel smiles, because nothing makes him feel more enchanted than seeing you light up in the dark, explaining why fear on film is just another way to understand the human heart.

Update from the man himself

Gyroid bath time 🫧