a blog where the depraved, weird, and perverted creatures are seen as Gods
Hello, you. (Joe Goldberg reference) This blog is basically just whatever fixation is eating away at my brain/occupying my mind at the moment. Welcome & Enjoy.
fandom info ⧗ᗢ
My fandom list is always growing but one that won’t leave, ever, would be Marvel! I used to be strictly just a Marvel blog once upon a time, but I’ve branched out. Now I guess I’d say I’m just a multi fandom blog.
To know: There are nsfw things reblogged/posted on here, just for a disclaimer. Though, I’m not strictly a nsfw blog so 18+ isn’t necessary. But if I reblog something that says 18+, do respect people's wishes to not read their work if you're under 18! Any and all asks/anons are completely welcome! Dm’s are always open if you want to chat :)
My masterlist. (Links to all my fics)
I do occasionally write. They would be under the #myworks tag! (You can request anything, really. If I’m able to, I’ll try to make your idea into something!)
Ellie is still sticky when you crawl into her lap.
Blood—drying, tacky in places—smears her forearms and streaks her shirt. There’s a dent in the wall behind her where someone’s head hit a little too hard. The room smells like iron and smoke and something scorched beyond recognition.
Ellie’s breathing is slow now. Post-murder calm. Eyes still glowing faintly as she wipes her hands on a rag that used to be white.
“You’re starin’,” she mutters.
You don’t answer. You just step between her knees and lean forward, exhaustion dragging you down like gravity has doubled. Your forehead bumps her chest. You sigh—and then, without ceremony, you settle there. Cheek against her sternum. Arms curling loosely around her waist.
Ellie stiffens like she’s been shot.
“…What the fuck are you doin’?”
“M’ tired,” you mumble.
She looks down at you, then at herself. At the blood. The claws. The carnage.
“I just murdered like,” she squints, thinking, “ten people.”
Her chest rumbles with a low sound—half growl, half laugh. “This is insane,” she mutters. “You’re insane.”
Her hands hover awkwardly in the air for a second, like she’s not sure where they’re allowed to go. Then one settles carefully on your back. The other cups the side of your head, claws retracting automatically.
“You smell like blood,” she adds.
“Makes me sleepy,” you whisper.
Ellie’s jaw drops. “…I don’t even wanna unpack that.”
Your breathing evens out. Fully asleep now. Using a demon like a mattress.
Ellie stares at the ceiling, blinking slowly.
“Unbelievable,” she murmurs. “Everyone else sees this face and pisses themselves.”
She looks back down at you—soft, trusting, utterly unconcerned with the fact that her hands could snap you in half.
“And you,” she says quietly, “crawl onto me like I’m a pillow.”
She adjusts her posture anyway, shifting so you’re more comfortable. One arm wraps around you, firm and protective. Her chin rests against your head.
“No one’s ever done that before,” she admits, almost to herself.
Her thumb strokes your hair in slow, absent motions. The glow in her eyes dims further, the room settling into an uneasy quiet.
“…Don’t stop,” she adds under her breath.
“Just—sleep.”
And for the first time since the bodies hit the floor, Ellie feels something like peace.
