#but she literally said it was an abomination

[witchofthemidlands]

BAD SISTERS || Chopped Liver

This reads like an incorrect quote but this is, in fact, an actual line from this show in a conversation between the two most serious characters in this series.

[lunafeather]

Y'all crazy for preferring blighted!Neve when romancing her, you don't even get the whole love confession scene?? Yeah yeah they fuck, we knew that all along

Anyway finished my Neve Romance angst!run (Shadow Dragon Rook who saves Treviso and then assigns Neve to the wards) and can confidently say NO THANK YOU

I vastly prefer saving Minrathous just in general but ESPECIALLY if you're romancing Neve and I ALMOST would have decided to make blighted!Neve my canon if you got the entire final romance scene (the ILY is important character development!!) but you don't so my original choices still stand as my canon

[somnoir]

Prodigal son beyond Time - part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Damian first met his great uncle Danyal when he is three years old. His mother says he's met him long ago, when he was but a babe with a memory too fuzzy to remember. But the man before him is his grandfather's favorite child. The son that scowls at his father as he cradled Damian in his arms.

"What have you done?" His uncle scowled, a gentle hand pressed against the back of Damian's head. "He's a child!"

"Danyal!"

"You weren't like this with me." Danyal spat, keeping Damian in his arms and pressing his lips towards his nephew's forehead. Damian notes how cold his uncle's skin felt like, but more welcoming than that of his grandfather's.

"Danyal, he is to be trained like a proper Al Ghul." Grandfather said, frowning at Danyal.

"You trained me like a proper Al Ghul when I was older than him!" Danyal immediately protested, "He's three!"

"Danyal—"

"Ukht, I understand that you wish the best for your son but this is not it." Danyal immediately said, looking apologetic for interrupting Talia, but went back to glaring at Ra's. "I've tried to tolerate the fact that you handle an assassin league, father but this? You taught me to be loyal to the family. You taught me to cherish the family, you're blood—why the fuck aren't you giving the others the same treatment you gave me?!"

"Because they are not you!"

Damian doesn't recall what truly happened that day, but he does remember how his uncle's eyes went from soft blues to the same shade that the Lazarus pits glowed.

Damian remembers everything going dark.

Damian grows up differently.

He continues on his training, but everything is kinder to him. The world is kinder when his uncle is home, having tea with grandfather and overseeing his training. Mother loves him and uncle Danyal the most, claiming that they are blessings to her life.

Grandfather is quieter nowadays, almost docile with his uncle around.

It's a little more peaceful. The assassin's continue to train, to fight. But their reign of terror fall upon those that are corrupt and destroying the world. It's one of the compromises uncle Danyal and grandfather have led too.

Damian grows up differently.

Damian's arrival to the Bats' lives was unprecedented and quite confusing. He was a child raised by assassins, a child raised to become the next leader of the league. But he was... Strange. Strange for that kind of standard. 

Damian was rather sociable, hostile but not downright murderous towards them. 

His uncle did make sure that he had friends in the league.

Ra's had been utterly ecstatic to find out that he had two more grandchildren while Talia was quite pleased to know that she had a niece and nephew. 

Damian had a pair of strange cousins who snuck him out of training to go watch the stars, often getting them scolded, but it was worth it. Dante was older than Damian by five years. He was what other would call an angsty teen with how he often rebelled against his father. Meanwhile, Janelle—preferebly Ellie—was only a year older than Damian himself. She was a mischievous person who made sure that everything around her was swallowed by her own chaos. So when he entered the manor, suddenly struck with the reality that he had multiple siblings instead of just one elder brother, Damian knew what to do. 

Murder was not the answer. 

But by the words of his gracious uncle and the wisdom of his excellent cousins: fight your siblings like a feral child but defend them by being even worse to others. 

So Damian's first act as Dick Grayson's younger brother was to bite him. 

The undead were restless, rising from their graves or haunting their own corpses. It wasn't something they usually dealt with, forced to call upon magicians. 

But even Constantine was bewildered by just how cursed Gotham's lands were. To bring back the dead. Jason was a miracle but this was like an abomination, a literal zombie. 

No one really knew how to properly deal with the dead...

Well...

"My uncle would be willing to provide his assistance in this matter." Damian piped up, examining the contained zombies from a safe distance. All eyes were quickly drawn to him, bewildered and questioning. 

"I hardly think that Dusan would be suitable for this." Bruce sighed. 

Damian scowled, "Not him. My grandfather's first-born is whom I speak off. He is knowledgeable in the occult arts of the dead." 

"Damian... Ra's Al Ghul only has one son." 

"Untrue. Grandfather's greatest pride was always my uncle. He is precious to grandfather and ensures that no one knows much off him. I expected you and Drake to be aware of the first born." 

Tim stiffened, "They weren't rumours?! Ra's actually has some cryptid son?" 

Bruce, who had heard of the old tales of the Demon head's beloved heir, had always thought they were stories to scare the assassins. He's never seen the man, nor has he found any evidence of him in the league. 

Jason finally started paying attention, "So the league's golden boy can help? Dami, I don't think Al Ghul will even let his favorite kid anywhere near us." 

"You underestimate my uncle's love for me."

"You met him?" Bruce quickly interjected. 

Jason shrugged, "He helped me out back then. Patched me up when the pit madness got worse and helped me manage it. But his face was usually covered and no one really knew his name."

"Aside from myself, grandfather, and my mother." 

Bruce frowned, "Nyssa and Dusan don't know their brother's name?" 

"Grandfather says that they do not have the privilege of knowing his name. Mother was the first of his other children to have met my uncle."

"And what about you? You won't give us his name?" 

Damian scowled, feeling rather displeased with his father's choice of words. "Names are powerful, father. My uncle taught me this when I was young." 

Constantine narrowed his eyes, "You're uncle some kind of fae, kid?" 

"Watch your mouth, hellblazer. He does not like you." Damian hissed, having heard all his uncle's rants about the Laughing Magician, especially whenever he'd just randomly pick up Talia and walk around Nanda Parbat like she was a kitten rather than a deadly assassin. "But I shall call upon my great uncle and ask him for assistance. This matter with the undead shall surely pique his interest."

"Tell the old man I said hi!" Jason cheerfully added, sounding quite pleased to hear about the mysterious uncle. 

"No." Damian blatantly denied. As much as he loves Todd (and he will never admit that), he was not going to let anyone threaten his status as his uncle's favorite child. Over his dead body. 

Damian was quick to walk away from all of them, quickly retrieving all the materials he'd need to summon his uncle. Dark green paint for the summing circle, five candles, and an astrology book. 

"Bats... Why the hell is your son performing a summoning ritual? For a ghost of the realms too." Constantine's tone was strained, clearly disturbed and wary of Damian's actions. 

"Damian." Bruce warned but Damian just waved him off. He watched as Jason started lighting up the candles, humming an unfamiliar tune. 

"D'you think the old man will help us?" 

"Of course! Uncle adores me." 

"You think he'll give me his name?"

"I will gut you, Todd." Damian immediately responded with the most nonchalant tone he could ever give. 

Jason shrugged, before taking a step back. 

"Damian! Whatever you're summoning—" 

"I'm summoning my uncle, father. He's the best person to go to with these issues." Damian insisted, before muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Bruce was startled when Constantine grabbed him, eyes wide and rapidly turning pale. "Why the hell does your son know how to speak the language of the—"

Fire burst forth from the circle, slowly morphing into an icy blast. 

"Dead." Constantine's breath hitched, "Holy shit, your brat just summoned the ghost king." 

Bruce grabbed Damian the moment a hand emerged from the blast of cold. He shoved his on behind him, suddenly feeling frightened as his entire body felt goosebumps. Fuck. Did Damian really just perform a summoning ritual for such a powerful being? He never expected for Ra's to brainwash his son into believing that such a powerful thing—

"Nephew!" 

Bruce blinked, suddenly blinded by the light. 

"Uncle!" Damian escaped from his grasp, rushing into the circle. Constantine practically screamed once Damian ran into the arms of what was supposedly his uncle and the ghost king. 

In front of Bruce was the most gorgeous man he's ever met. 

The floating hair that reminded him of snow and the green eyes that were purer than the Lazarus pits. He couldn't help but swallow thickly, blinking. Damian was held up by the ghost king, allowing the boy to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. 

"Hello, dami (my blood)." The king cooed, his pronunciation of the nickname much different from the shortened version of Damian's name. "I was not expecting you to call me. What's happened, my dear?" 

Damian hummed, but before he could speak, he was immediately interrupted.

"Long time no see, old man!" Jason yelled, waving his arm as if he wasn't in the same room as the king. 

"Jason! Hello! How are you? The corrupted ecto hasn't returned, has it? If it has, just tell me. I'll schedule a check up with Frostbite." The king quickly fussed, not minding the way Damian was baring his teeth at Jason. "Damian, behave!" 

Damian just seemed to whine, refusing to behave and opting to pestering the king. 

"I'm good, uncle. Haven't gone out crazy since you took me to the doctor." Jason smiled, already ripping of his domino mask to show that his eyes were green tinged with blue, not glowing green like the pits. 

"Good, good. But I really must know why I've been called." The king softly said, directing his words to Damian who was already trying to wriggle our his grasp. Gently, the king settled Damian back on his feet. 

"Right. Uncle, my father, Batman. Father, this is my uncle." Damian introduced, his tone hurried and a bit hesitant. 

The king, Damian's uncle, smiled at Bruce. "Hello there, Mr. Wayne. I've wanted to meet you for a long time." The king hummed, "My name's Danny, but the Al Ghuls call me Danyal." 

"Uncle!" 

"Hush, hush, Damian. I can give my name to anyone I want. I don't suppose that your father is worthy of it."

Bruce really should be more concerned about the fact that the king knew his name. 

"But what of the others?" 

"Little one, I sent Nyssa and Dusan letters ages ago. But rest assured, dearest Talia is still the first to earn it." Danny—Danyal—the ghost king softly spoke and patted Damian's head. "And... Oh, it's you."

"Your majesty!" Constantine enthusiastically greeted while Danny scowled. 

"Tax evading bastard." Danny huffed, shaking his head before promptly ignoring the tax evading bastard in question. 

"Damian." 

"The dead are rising."

Danny blinked, blinked again, before he groaned and shook his head. 

"Okay, sorry. That seemed to be caused by an error on my side. Some prisoners of my realms started a riot and some of them managed to break out. Some have most likely decided to overshadow their old bodies." Danny sighed, "I'll have this taken care of. Apologies for the inconveniences."

"These... Zombies have been wrecking havoc across my city." Bruce frowned, "They've been harming people."

"Vengeful spirits do that. They're criminals meant to be in prison. It's rare for breakouts to happen, in all honesty." Danny paused, just long enough to run his fingers through Damian's hair. "But if you wish to take charge, by all means. These are corpses being possessed by their own spirits and... Well... They're out of their minds. Not really considered revenants since the possession isn't quite permanent." 

"Alright, Bats. We've gotta make a proper deal here. His Majesty was summoned so we've gotta offer him something—" 

"That's not necessary." Danny immediately waved Constantine away, evident displeasure from the man. "The sigil I gave Damian was just to call me to him. No need for an exchange."

"Seriously?" Constantine blurted out. 

Danny just shrugged, "He's family. And my favorite nephew." 

Damian smirked, absolutely smug. "I am your only nephew, uncle."

"Mm... Jason's also my nephew." Danny chuckled softly, easily stepping out of the circle and removing it from the floor—leaving not a single stain. "Now... Shall we deal with the dead?" 

Bruce Wayne has made many bad decisions in his life, especially when it came to his relationships. Damian's ghost king of an uncle might be one of them.

Masterpost

[buckydeservesthebest]

One of the things that I find interesting about the situation of the other mind control victims, is that in comparison, the degree of subjugation and inhumanization that Bucky suffered was far worse in every way...

I mean, unlike him, absolutely none of the other characters were stripped of their identity, they all knew who they were, they knew their names, their family and their history. Each of them continued to exist as a consciousness/person. HYDRA broke Bucky's mind, for decades they tried to erase, remove and take away everything that made him himself, and it was only until they succeeded that the Winter Soldier's programming began, not before, because as Zola's notes said, Bucky's will continue to resist. To force him to do what they wanted, Bucky had to cease to exist, and even then, despite all their attempts, his memories and emotions continued to surface over time, which is why the erasure of his memory and the use of trigger words was mandatory before every single mission.

Regardless of how the other types of mind control work, neither Clint, Erik, Bruce, Jessica, Luke, Yelena nor the other Black Widows had to be "broken" before they began to comply with the orders of their mind controllers. Perhaps there was indoctrination in the case of the Black Widows as infants, but it was precisely because of this that they were not "broken" morally and psychologically, because nothing they did under mind control went against the beliefs the Red Room instilled in them, quite the contrary.

It also seems to me that there is another big difference between Bucky's case and that of the others. And is that unlike Bucky, all the others had a certain degree of freedom that allowed them to be able to perform actions that required more thought and planning. As in the case of the BW, who to be able to do complex jobs such as espionage and infiltration had to be able to act, pretend, lie, make decisions on their own to fulfill their mission, *without* the need for Dreykov to order them to do so. It came from one of the BWs the idea to request Taskmaster's intervention after Yelena defected. One of them even told Taskmaster to "smile"! An indication that they retain their emotional capacity.

Clint played an advisory role for Loki, thinking and offering the most efficient tactics and plans to accomplish his goal. Erik offered his scientific knowledge for the same. The point is that they kept their ability to think at a complex level, so that they both thought on their own about the best way to help Loki. In Jessica's case for example, the act of assassinating Reva Connors was not exactly the order Kilgrave gave her, he told her to "take care of her", and while the order was ambiguous, the idea or impulse to "kill" technically came from Jessica.

Interestingly, both the mind stone and Kilgrave's mind control seem to make their victims believe, to a certain degree, that they want to do as they are told to do. That's why in Clint's case, the respect he felt for Fury influenced his intention to kill him, as Loki told him. Kilgrave's case is clearer, as all those who have been controlled by him feel that they want to "please" him. Even the case of the Black Widows seems similar, as Yelena said "you are fully conscious, but you don't know which part is you". And if I remember correctly, Jessica also questioned at some point which part of her was the one following Kilgrave's orders.

When the Winter Soldier was activated not only did Bucky not exist, but the remaining non-person was under a trance that forced him to comply with the orders of his handlers, he was not even conscious of what was going on around him. That's why the missions HYDRA assigned him were "simple", assassinate a target, leave no witnesses, retrieve objects and/or protect his handlers. No espionage, infiltration or advice on planning and tactics, no actions that required more freedom to think on his own. He didn't even understand Pierce's sarcastic question about whether he wanted milk, because he had no wants. He couldn't even speak unless he was ordered to do so! Each and every one of his actions were, what I'd call, robotic, programmed, without a level of reasoning or complex or abstract thought, unlike all other cases of mind control.

And the irony is, of all the mind-controlled victims who were forced to commit murder, the only one who suffers endlessly with remorse is Bucky! The only one who feels like a monster who does not deserve forgiveness is Bucky! The only one who feels he must make amends is Bucky! Neither Clint, Yelena or Jessica feel they must right the wrongs they were forced to do.

The horror of being controlled is never addressed for Bucky like it is for Clint, Erik, Jessica, Bruce, Yelena, even for minor characters like the people of Westview.

THIS. Each of them have said "poor me, I'm a victim of abuse by a third party and suffered greatly". *They recognize themselves as victims*. Bucky has not once complained about the 70 years of torture and enslavement he suffered, or the life that was taken from him, or the identity stripped from him, no... because what haunts him are the crimes he was forced to do, and on top of that he believes he is the victimizer and not the victim in these situations. And yet some Marvel executives dare to say that he "hides behind the excuse of lack of control"!? He has literally never tried to excuse himself! He has literally done the complete opposite, believing himself to be solely responsible for the wrongs his captors have done, for a situation in which he didn't have the remotest agency.

But of course, everyone else can be recognized as 100% innocent by the rest of the characters, by the premise of the show and by the production itself. Everyone, absolutely everyone, but Bucky...

I swear this... this situation, this unfairness outrages me, infuriates me, makes my blood boil and turns my stomach beyond what any words allow me to express....

🤡 Markus and McFeely 🤡: “Yeah, Bucky’s just a POW who had his entire agency explicitly removed in not one but TWO ways but he’s for sure guilty because we don’t want him to have fruit salads with Steve”

[riddlesrizzler]

Jelly Cat

summary: you said you wanted a jelly cat characters: bf! mattheo. reader. mentions of theo and enzo warnings: none! word count: 1.1k

It had been a rough week-one of those weeks where nothing seemed to go right. You’d spilled tea on your favorite sweater, failed a potion that turned your eyebrows green for a day and a half, and your Care of Magical Creatures partner had bailed on you again. By Friday evening, all you wanted was to collapse into bed and not be perceived.

Mattheo noticed. He always noticed.

He wasn’t the best with emotions-not in the way you were. You wore your feelings like ribbons, tied delicately into your expressions and tone. But Mattheo? He kept his locked in a fortress behind his eyes. Still, when it came to you, he paid attention.

Which is why, as you lay curled up on the common room sofa, sniffling over your Transfiguration notes and hugging your pillow to your chest, Mattheo sat nearby, deep in thought.

“She’s been saying that word all week,” he muttered.

“What word?” Theo asked, upside down on the armrest of the couch, lazily flipping through a Quidditch magazine.

“Jellycat,” Mattheo said, frowning like it was some kind of riddle. “She told Pansy she wants one. She told Draco she used to sleep with one every night. She told me they make her feel safe. So-what the hell is a jellycat?”

Enzo, lounging near the fireplace and buttering a crumpet with his wand, perked up. “Is that like... a magical beast? Like a pudding that purrs?”

“No,” Theo drawled. “it’s like an enchanted kneazle. Don’t bring up third year again.”

Mattheo rubbed his temples. “I don’t care what it is. I just want to give her one. She’s sad. I hate it.”

There was a pause.

Then Enzo grinned. “What if we... made her one?”

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed. “Made her a... jelly cat?”

“Exactly,” Theo chimed in, catching on fast. “We charm jelly. Give it ears. A tail. Little paws. It purrs. It jiggles. It’s what she wants.”

Thirty minutes later, three of Slytherin’s most feared boys were sneaking into the Hogwarts kitchens, tiptoeing past sleeping house-elves and nicking every bowl of jelly they could find-raspberry, strawberry, even one suspiciously glowing lime.

Back in their dorm, Enzo sculpted. Theo transfigured. Mattheo supervised with the intensity of someone about to fight a dragon.

It was hideous. Absolutely horrendous. The thing had tiny licorice whiskers, two uneven blueberry eyes, and a tail that wobbled like it was drunk. But when Theo tapped it with his wand, it purred-a long, wobbly little hum that made Enzo giggle like a maniac.

“I can’t believe I’m about to give this to her,” Mattheo muttered, staring down at the abomination with the reverence of someone preparing for a proposal.

That evening, you were curled under your blanket in the common room when he approached, awkwardly holding something behind his back.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly nervous.

You blinked up at him, tired but trying to smile. “Hey, Matty.”

His heart melted a bit. He cleared his throat. “So, I know you’ve had a crap week. And I know you kept saying you wanted a... a jelly cat.”

Your brows furrowed. “Oh! Yeah, I love Jellycats. They’re these plush stuffed animals-super soft and cuddly-”

Mattheo blinked. “Wait... they’re toys?”

“Yeah?” you said, laughing softly. “I had a bunny one as a kid. I miss her.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he slowly pulled the thing from behind his back.

It jiggled.

It meowed.

You stared. “Is that...?”

“A jelly cat,” he said proudly. “Literally.”

It was the strangest, ugliest, most endearing creature you’d ever seen. A wobbly, red blob shaped vaguely like a kitten, with gummy bear paws and licorice whiskers. It purred again, then flopped over with a squelch.

You blinked. “You made this?”

He shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “With Theo and Enzo. They helped. I just... I thought it would cheer you up."

You were speechless for a second. Then you laughed. Hard. The first real, full laugh you’d had in days. Tears prickled in your eyes-not from sadness this time, but from how much you adored him.

“Matty,” you whispered, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. “It’s perfect.”

He grinned, a little pink in the face. “You’re not just saying that because it’s technically alive, right?”

You hugged the jelly cat against your chest. It wobbled and purred like a satisfied pudding. “No. I love it. And I love you.”

He paused, eyes softening. “Even though I didn’t know what a Jellycat was?”

“Especially because of that.”

And from that day on, the literal Jelly Cat sat on your shelf. Wobbly. Melty. Slightly cursed. And every time you looked at it, you remembered how much your ridiculous, thoughtful, soft-hearted Slytherin boyfriend loved you.

[antsday]

under your thumb

[part two of this. inspired by @habken 's incredible scammers to lovers au. hope you enjoy!]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I need him dead,” Izuku says, pacing intently. His bright red shoes squeak with every step he takes, and his eyes are wide with mania. “I genuinely need him dead.”

La Brava takes a long slurp of her soda fountain abomination - two pumps of every flavor of every soda, in one supersize cup - and gives him a knowing, pitying look. “Dynamight causing trouble again?”

He buries his face into his hands and makes a noise like a wounded animal. 

“Did he finally explode his laptop beyond repair or something?” La Brava asks. “Talk to me.”

“He asked me out on a date,” Izuku grits out, and La Brava’s eyes go wide. “A date. Lunch at a crepe shop? There’s no other way to take that.”

It wasn’t ever supposed to go this far. At first, loading Pro Hero Dynamight’s laptop with viruses was just a way to get back at him for being an asshole. But then he just- kept clicking them. And then he kept coming by, and revealing that he wasn’t so bad to talk to and then-

Izuku’s been played like a damn fiddle. All this time, he thought he was the one pulling the strings- only for Dynamight to sweep the rug out from under him in the most sudden possible way.

“Huh,” she says.  “Huh.”

And then, after a long pause:

“...Well. IT guys are in really high demand nowadays,” she says, stirring her drink with her straw. “With the economy, and all.” 

“This can’t happen. He’s a Pro-Hero,” Izuku stresses, grinding his teeth to stubs. “A Pro Hero who can’t go a week without getting scammed, but a Pro Hero nonetheless. This can’t happen. It can’t.”

“He’s a public servant, Deku, not a nun.” 

Izuku points at her. “Exactly! He’s a public servant. He has a duty to the people first and foremost, and I can’t get in the way of that.” Izuku says, placing a hand on his chest with feeling. A beat passes, and then, “Also, he is so fucking weird.” 

“And there it is.”

“Who gets scammed that much? It just makes no logical sense. You’d think after clicking an obvious pop-up the first time and getting your whole laptop overrun with malware you’d just- stop doing it at some point! But no! It’s like he’s a- a little kid with a big red button in front of him. He’s ridiculous. And-and an asshole, too!”

La Brava sighs, setting down her comically large drink. “Okay, Deku-kun-”

“Yeah! He’s a huge jerk. He’s mean to everyone and he acts like- like he’s doing me a favor by making me fix his laptop all the time! You know what, he deserves all that malware, especially if he’s so obsessed with clicking pop-ups!”

“Deku-kun.”

“He’s insane. A total freak show!”

“Deku-kun.”

“A-A self-absorbed, arrogant-”

“So you don’t want to go on a date with him?” La Brava interrupts, cutting him off. 

Izuku pauses, ceasing his pacing. 

He thinks about Dynamight’s evil looking smiles and fiery red eyes and sharp features; his insane stances and posture and the way his voice sounds like gravel; the way he’s always yelling and acting like a stereotypical macho-man Pro in his office, and yet whenever he steps into Izuku’s he’s always looking away and speaking quieter and holding out his virus-infected laptop like it’s the bento lunch Kiyoko-chan (from the new slice-of-life romance anime Izuku’s been binge-watching recently) made for her love interest in last week’s episode. That one time Izuku had said he was thirsty in Dynamight’s presence and found a water bottle on his desk the next day (and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that-). It's the way that no matter what happens- whether it’s a villain attack or a patrol or rescuing a kitten from a tree, Dynamite comes out on top. 

(Quite literally, in the case of the kitten. The fire department had to come down to Tatooin Station and rescue Pro-Hero Dynamight and a three-pound kitten from a 40-foot tall oak.)

God, there’s so much wrong with him, Izuku thinks. I need to hold his hand or I’ll die.

Izuku’s cheeks heat up and he scratches the back of his neck, very pointedly not looking at La Brava. “...Well. I never said that.”

“Oh my God,” La Brava says. “Oh my God.” 

“Sue me, okay!” Izuku throws up his hands. “Apparently I like deranged goblin men who are a little pathetic and rough around the edges and incapable of not getting scammed! Is that so wrong!”

La Brava stares. And stares. And then she sighs. 

“It- You know what, this is above my paygrade,” she says, taking another long, obnoxious sip of her drink. “I’m not here to critique your frankly abysmal taste in men. So you do want to go on this date?”

He thinks about it more, and starts getting light-headed at the thought of- of Dynamight, buying him a crepe. Sharing a crepe with him. At the crepe shop. Tomorrow, when they’re both free. Maybe they’d even- hold hands, and- ride the ferris wheel in the amusement park across the street- together-

“Hnnnrrrgh,” says Izuku. 

“Well, good luck,” says La Brava, tossing her empty cup. It soars through the air in a perfect arch and lands into the trash with little fanfare. She pumps her fists, and Izuku absentmindedly claps a little. 

 It’s pretty simple removing the malware- he was the one who put it there, after all. Soon enough, Dynamight’s laptop is good as new. And then, after another couple of moments of hesitation, he sneaks in another pop-up. A poor recolor of Naruto, this time, in suggestive kitsune-themed lingerie. 

“You’re literally going on a date with him,” La Brava says, suddenly popping up behind him. ‘You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“Consider it, uh,” Izuku racks his brain, “leverage! Yeah. If he’s. If he’s an asshole.”

She throws her hands up in exasperation and turns back to setting up a pastel pink Project Sekai theme for Phantom Thief's computer (upon his request). 

He’s not being weird, Izuku reassures himself. He’s not. Dynamight doesn’t have to click the pop-up. He’s not, like, obligated, or anything. But if he does, like he has been doing, well. That’s one way to secure a second date. 

Well. Not that he’s hoping for a second date with Dynamight, or anything. He’s not anxiously counting down the seconds or whatever. That’d be insane. Right? Right. Totally insane. And Izuku is not insane, so therefore he is not incredibly and unhealthily invested in this-

“Stop muttering about this or I swear to God-”

-

So now he’s here. Standing in front of the crepe shop in his nicest clothes (a white ‘Dress Shirt’ shirt, a half-buttoned striped orange button up, and brown corduroy pants with a black belt), blasting music to distract himself from the fact that he may have been stood up. 

Okay, fine, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He probably hasn’t been stood up. Sure, it’s been three minutes and fifty four seconds since their agreed upon time, and there’s still no sign of Dynamight anywhere, but that probably doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably just running late. 

He has to be running late. What is he going to do if he actually is being stood up right now? 

Kill him? 

Kill Pro Hero Dynamight?

No, Izuku realizes, deflating a little. No, he’d never be able to go through with it. Maybe more malware? Maybe every piece of malware at once?

For once, the Go Get Your Man, Kiyoko-chan! theme song isn’t taking his mind off things- a clear sign of his deteriorating mental state. There’s a part right before the final chorus in which they let a cat just meow into the mic for a solid thirty seconds and it always reminds Izuku that good exists in the world- except for today, apparently. 

After a few moments of hesitation, he goes to his messages. They have each other’s numbers, strictly for business, but occasionally Dynamight will text him hey in the middle of the night and then take three hours to respond to Izuku. 

Where are you?, he types up. But before he can press send, his phone beeps.

Izuku frowns.

“A villain attack nearby?” His hair blows slightly in a sudden breeze. “Huh. I hope it’s not too close.”

He has about two seconds of peace between uttering this final, ironic sentence, and then turning his head-

-because one minute he’s pausing the theme song on his phone, and the next he’s face to face with a giant, menacing pincer that's seconds away from peeling off his entire face.

His life really is just one prolonged punchline, huh.

So there he stands, tears in his eyes, fear in his heart, and the thirty second meowing solo ringing in his ears; dressed his nicest 'Dress Shirt' shirt, holding an expensive laptop that he can never again infect with malware because he’s been stood up and he’s going to die. Brava was right, Izuku thinks belatedly. Maybe I should re-evaluate my taste in men.

And then everything explodes.

part one/part two

[beartitled]

HIVE belongs to @braisedhoney

Canon HIVE blog 👉 @talesaboardthehive

‼️ATTENTION HIVE CREW‼️

I BRING U

✨HIVE megadrawing✨

Bc tumblr cannot comprehend the glory of our ship/silly image size and pixel limit >:(

You can view the quality version of the art with all the numbers 👉here👈

The quality of the og art gotten eaten a bit too, so here’s close ups :D

And of course 🐝CREDIT LIST(s)🐝

Thank u to everyone who participated in choosing the art style for it >:D

@blackkatdraws2 @insomniphic @demonicrhythms @mhokino @writtengalaxies @myhandshurts @bucketfullofstrawberries @stingraystray-ing @kuzann @aetermorte @otterlyinluv @atlantis-whale @4thwallbreakerdraws @fudgemallowmaniac @crimsomcrystal @tumbling-turmoil @dafry-shenanigans @xandyprojects @technologyvoid @idunnowhattowriteheretbh @ejsuperstar @bananatemilkshake @masky-the-mask @cj-is-causing-chaos-again @whatsupwithjinx @oswinunknown @twolitwicksinatrenchcoat @bootleg-behindthescenes @junebug-dot-com @notmefoina @derrangedhemlock

‼️Important note

If you recognise your number and would like to be credited (tumblr, name, etc.), please let me know!

This art contains numbers from old HIVE discord server (which was deleted), so some ppl’s @ might’ve been lost

🐻‍❄️< silly gathered all hivesona art she saw before server deletion, but forgor to screenshot the list of server members

You also free to stay anonymous of course 👍

I will wait some time before posting it on others socials to make sure the credits are alright 🫡

Also little reminder that the drawing is non canon, so we have a lil uniform fashion show in the corner there 💅 (all uniforms have to be grey colour)

Nöw

Lemme me do my usual rambling >:D

The giant took about 3 months +- (hard to count bc I worked on other projects in the same time💥)

Lemme tell u the planning was an actual investigation

(and chaos ofc)

(fun type of chaos :D)

Shoot out to Amari who helped me gather evidence🕵️ and Crimsom who helped me accidentally find a number I didn’t know about before❗️

Thank u guys you’re awesome ❤️

As I said before there are identified numbers, where I either only had a name/somebody’s vague pfp/a discord status 💥

I used standard anonymous crewmate design for ppl with no info

But tried to gather at least some info from old server screenshots for cues, like CR6548 Kura had different red emojis in their bio, so I gave them a rose strawberry crown and earrings 🌹🍓

For anonymous people with asks I added lil visual identifiers ✨

Part of me kinda wants to write a whole guide, but I think it’s more fun to discover things by yourself >:) *whisper* go reread #ney’s chatter

Fascinatingly enough, this drawing really enhanced HIVE as an eldritch abomination

This thing shifted and changed so many times

Constant edits 😭💥

When I planned out the composition I added the balcony as an extra space reserve for crewmembers

Ironically balcony stayed empty, bc I didn’t have enough ppl to fill it up with

Decided to put fandom characters that are associated with Captain’s blog and some alter egos

🗣️ HOWEVER 🗣️

When I finished lineart and posted Bumblebeedog comics

Ppl started creating new Hivesonas 🥺

Nobody can resist the Bumblebeedoggo 🐝

So had to improvise to put more and more ppl into different empty parts of the art 💥

🎶gotta add em all 🎶

This is actually my biggest work so far

Like literally

I usually draw on A3, but decided to go bigger and drew on A2 format instead

A2 is like 420 x 594 mm/ 16.5 x 23.4 inches (big boi)

Which was an absolute nightmare to scan 💥

But honestly really enjoyed the process, bc bigger format allows for more details

Also technical fun facts x2

Drawing program froze sometimes during colouring 💀

cue the anxious saves lmao

Anyway 👏

Hope you guys enjoyed the art and reading some of the backstage ❤️

Hey Ney >:)

Hope u like

Hit me up if u would like the link to 4K version of the megadrawing™️

[baron-von-slipped-on-soap]

When the redesign gives you more joy than the entire original franchise did

This is literally PEAK character design I love it so much 😭😭

Disney Descendants redesigns

Added Ben, or as I've renamed him: Beau

Despite how much I dislike him, I can't forget about him. He IS the catalyst of the franchise, and arguably the heart. Shame they never gave him a personality or likeability though.

He is now the self-absorbed and foppish prince of a major Kingdom, who spends his days doing god knows what in the Enchanted forests. Riding his horse into the sunset, all that classic nonsense. He chooses to "rescue" four kids from the Isle at his fiancée's request, parading them around as his good deed tm. And his world is about to get rocked.

I had so much fun making him look gold and shinyyyyyyy. Magpie brain go brr

[madschiavelique]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : miguel didn't like very much the way you left him all horny for you in the toilets during the unexpected mission, so once the anomalies have all been maintained, he decides to teach you proper manners

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, lots of tension, soft!dom miguel, quick boob job, cunnilingus, "it's too big", pnv sex, miguel teaches reader magic words, so much kissing i swear, no use of Y/N, biting, mention of scars (from fights, miguel's) - let me know if i forgot any !! word count : 7,7k

note : i'm sorry i took SO LONG writing this baby, but here it is (and not yet proofread but i couldn't wait hehehe). the end is corny i AM SORRY but it was already long and this is to keep a pretty open. thank u all so much for ur support !! we passed the 400 subscribers today and i'm literally jumping to the ceiling of happiness. this is the last part of the 4shot, i hope you liked it <33 i was super inspired by Shameless by The Weeknd (one of my favourite songs hehehe). enough of me talking, love u guys !!

the previous parts : 1 - love bite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission

tag list : @marit332 @coralineyouareinterribledanger @sunnyx07 @mamamiriamxo @l3laze @amy180801 @gojos-goth-gf @readingfan @cheezit-luv3rr @scaleniusrm @cowboyharrryy

Miguel hadn't followed you, so you decided to lure the creature back by calling out to it:

"You're really terrible at hide-and-seek, you know that?”

Suddenly, it turned towards you and charged at you as you leapt into the air to keep it at bay, at least long enough for Miguel to finish... what he had to do. The sound of his breathless voice replayed in your head, the heat in your cheeks rising. You propelled yourself silently up to a floor above, observing the behaviour of the dough.

The feel of his fangs on the skin of your neck, his tender kisses on your cheeks, the hard feel of his erection against your thigh as his claws pressed into the skin of it...

"Oh my god you're going to be the end of him!" exclaimed a small voice beside you.

The anomaly turned towards it at the same time as you: Lyla.

"Lyla?" you choked out, swivelling your head just in time to avoid the anomaly that had climbed extraordinarily nimbly to your floor.

"His pulse quickened, his body heat increased and his muscles contracted amazingly hard!" she chirped as you mimed shutting up or lowering her voice, but she wasn't listening and you started darting from floor to floor as she continued "You've got him completely wrapped around your finger! No pun intended."

"Please Lyla, keep it down!" you begged her, feeling like a huge red tomato as you blushed and above all hoping not to be chased away by this abomination.

"Oopsie," she smiled, placing a hand over her mouth.

The anomaly swung a ball of paste at you, and you narrowly avoided it as it crashed and exploded with power, splattering you as it went, a large drop smearing across your suit.

"I didn't know you had access to... all this," you muttered breathlessly as you ran down a corridor to get away from the unspeakable thing. "It doesn't matter... Yes, it does matter actually, how come?"

"Don't be angry, you've just given me what little fun I'm allowed to have," she said with a pout, "you know, programme life isn't always fun."

Out of breath, you let out a sigh that relaxed your shoulders with its depth. You shook your head for a moment.

"Well, we'll talk about it later, can you identify this for me?" you asked breathlessly, silently, as you spooned some of the substance and held it up to a small metal support on your watch, which lit up when you dropped a little on it.

"My pleasure, sugar," she said with a quick clap. "Hmm, that looks like a basic bread dough mixture to me. Flour, water, salt, yeast, not forgetting the anomaly gene, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun."

"It's true that I'm bursting with laughter," you say, putting both hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath. You looked at her for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek, hesitating before asking, "Is Miguel... Done?"

"Yep, he's on his way," she said, giving you an amused wink, and you couldn't help but let a little laugh slip from your nose.

"Right," you said, clearing your throat so the anomaly could hear, "I'm going to lure this thing towards the exit!" You could hear the oily, slimy sounds coming in your direction, turning to Lyla one last time to ask: "Make sure you send Miguel my location, okay?" you said as you started to trot off.

"Already done!" she replied, blowing you a kiss which she pressed onto her hand before disappearing in a cloud of pixels.

You ran on, stammering aloud to keep the beast at your heels: " Come this way! You know, I think you'd really like rock, I've got two friends who play really well, I think you'd love to meet them!"

The pile rumbled behind you. You leapt into the air, grabbing the glass dome and hanging upside down, standing with your arms crossed over your chest.

"No, really, I think you'd like it. Oh well! You've got a head that could listen to metal, plus you've got exactly the right mouth shape to sing it, you know."

It was rumbling from the ground, right underneath you.

Then, just above you, you felt a tap on the thin glass roof, and when you looked up, you saw Miguel. It was a funny sight, the way you were standing made it look like you were reflecting yourselves in a mirror.

"Oh, hi there," you smiled behind your mask, taking on a slight intonation as if you hadn't been the cause of his delay. "Did everything go well?"

He let out a desperate sigh, the red glasses on his suit narrowing, before simply saying:

"Something unexpected came up, it was very... frustrating. But I'll wait."

I'll wait. The very word made you gulp.

"Observations?" he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the anomaly just below you.

"It's dough, we'd just have to find something to bake it with," you suggested.

Outside there was a loud bang: the lorry Gwen and Hobie had been chasing had started to roll over, and the anomaly, just as alert as you and Miguel, leapt towards the first bay window to get out.

Gwen and Hobie seemed to have managed to deal with their anomaly, the truck was completely dented, sideways, and luckily for you, the oil from the truck was starting to spread on the ground. You got out, Miguel following to examine the situation. All it needed was a spark...

"I'll try to coat it with a bit of oil, find a lighter, a box of matches, whatever," he warned, before dashing off towards the pile of dough.

You looked around, and there, as luck would have it, was a convenience store. You leapt towards it. Managing to light a lighter with your costume on would be complicated, so you managed to find a box of matches, rushing towards the street again.

Miguel kept jumping up and down to coat the anomaly, and when he finally saw you coming, he shouted: "Light it up.

So you grabbed a match, struck it against the side of the box and threw it into the oil. You stepped aside and ran further to avoid taking any damage from the fire. It immediately licked at the anomaly, which let out horrible, high-pitched screams as the paste on its body cooked and smoked, turning golden and thinning little by little.

And so, you launched the multidimensional cell that had been given to you, and finally imprisoned the anomaly.

"I think 'the more the merrier' is a phrase I like less and less," said Gwen as you catalogued the anomalies.

"Are you kidding me? This was so much fun," said Peter. "It was like doing MMA!"

"Speak for yourself, we took care of the Magic Bus driver," Hobie huffed.

"I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud of our muffin," you agreed.

"You have to admit it smelled good," confirmed Pavitr.

Everything had gone well, Gwen had finished her exam period and you were all filling in your reports. Everything was going well, and everyone was pretty relaxed, except maybe you.

It was a pretty nasty trick you played on Miguel, leaving him like that, so close to the climax, and then leaving. And somewhere in there, you feared and waited impatiently for what was to come.

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. He seemed to be concentrating, but sometimes you could feel his gaze on you, insistent. You found him incredibly calm, and maybe it was just because he hid it well, but just to see him lose a little of that control, you managed to brush past him for a moment when no one was looking, your knuckles deliberately brushing his thigh before joining the others. Pretending to be interested in their conversation, you couldn't help but glance over at Miguel.

Death stare was probably the closest you could come to defining the look he was giving you at that moment, and a shiver of dread ran down your spine as you swallowed. He seemed to chew the inside of his cheek for a moment, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

You weren't going to get out of this alive, or entirely.

"Well, I don't know about you, but the lack of sleep knocked me out, so I'm going to bed, see you later!" said Gwen before leaving.

"Same here, see ya," said Hobie.

And successively, the only ones left were Peter, Miguel and you.

He waited patiently, with you beside him, until Peter had finished his report and, like all the others before him, had gone to sleep. The seconds seemed to stretch out painfully, every movement and possibility accentuated by the wait. Miguel seemed tense, and you had no idea whether Peter could feel it from his side too, but you could feel your skin tingling with anticipation.

Every moment, every second tickled your mind and body like tiny needles, Miguel's gaze resting insistently on yours.

"Well, that's not all, but I think we've all got better things to do than hang around making a report," Peter yawned. "Good night, sleep well."

Oh, it won't be sleep.

He then waved goodbye one last time, turning his back to you as he headed for the exit. Miguel turned to look at you, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back to look at you from an even higher angle.

The footsteps echoed around the room, fading away little by little as Miguel's eyes turned red, yours watching them and stifling a gasp. He took a single step closer, no more, but it was enough to intimidate you and for you to take a step backwards.

It was when the door finally closed behind Peter that he grabbed you powerfully around the waist and pinned you down on one of the desks, causing you to squeal in surprise as you widened your eyes for a moment, blinking frantically. In less time than it took to say 'empanada' Miguel had you completely under control, immobilising you faster than poison and more powerfully than a pair of handcuffs.

His nose wrinkled slightly.

"Did you enjoy your little act?" he asked, his tone extraordinarily calm, which made him all the more menacing. "Leaving me like that without finishing what you'd started?"

Your heart was racing, and suddenly just meeting his gaze seemed too powerful to maintain eye contact, so you turned your head to the side. Was it simply because you were embarrassed by your own little prank, or was it just that the intensity of his eyes on yours was too much? But Miguel wasn't going to have it any other way, so with one of his hands he grabbed your jaw and redirected it so that you were facing him.

"It's very rude not to look into someone's eyes when they're talking to you, you know that," he whispered, moving a little closer. "We're going to have to correct that, and teach you polite forms of address."

And you couldn't argue with that, because right now it wasn't a choice you had to make.

"Speaking of politeness, I realise that you haven't used any magic words so far for our little encounters," he said, his thumb pressing and digging into the skin of your cheek.

He moved a little closer, tilting his head to one side as you felt his nose brush against yours, moving a little closer still to feel his lips brush against yours, the simple touch of them sending little electric currents of excitement through you...

But nothing, he just grazed his lips against yours, not moving any further, but not backing away either. Your breaths collided softly, his eyes still fixed on yours with insistence.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice composed and contained, as you tried to free yourself a little from the hold his hand had on your jaw, to no avail.

His lips, so close to yours and yet so far away, gave you electrifying sensations, but you wanted more. You wanted the two of you to kiss, for your lips to become one again, for you to be able to offer him the body's 'I love you'.

So you tried to move a little closer, meeting his lips to satisfy your desire, no, your need. But he pulled back slightly, causing you to sigh in disappointment. No, you'd have to tell him.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice small but audible, as if you were pouring your desire into his plump lips.

A smile, the stretch of his lips pulling them a little further away from yours.

"Where," the question sounding more like a command.

His thumb eased a little in its pressure and caressed the skin of your cheek for a moment before sliding across your chin, settling just below your bottom lip.

"There," you replied, your desperation for more contact growing stronger by the second as the only thought on your mind was his kisses.

You wanted to taste that rainy, woody flavour on his lips again, and feel them assault your body with kisses.

"Only there?" he questioned, provoking your cravings even more as your impatience was felt almost painfully.

It didn't seem fair, he seemed to possess incredible composure and cold-blood as your veins pulsed through your body like lava flowing from the volcano of your heart.

The little game Miguel was playing with you almost felt like a little revenge. Could you blame him? He wanted all this as much as you did, but he liked balance, he liked things to be even, and he was making you pay for the advance you'd dared to take from him.

His thumb pressed against your plump lip, his skin barely brushing against it, and it felt like a thread sticking out with no way of pulling on it.

"Yes- No!" you moaned, feeling like a child who was denied a sweet treat, unable to hide your longing for more as his touch confused you, "everywhere."

His lips were parted, as close as ever, his warm breath spilling over yours. His thumb had moved up the curve of your lips to press against the volume of her, his eyes fixed on it.

"I didn't hear that properly," he said, his eyes returning to yours.

Their carmine colour reflected your face: eyebrows slanted back, eyes almost watery, his thumb resting on your lips as he continued to caress it mathematically to elicit a reaction from you.

You tried to squirm away for a moment, but Miguel's hand on your waist held you in place with incredible ease.

He raised an eyebrow, obviously your attempt was in vain, he hadn't started hand-to-hand training the day before like you had, he'd been an ace at physical power and combat for much longer, so of course he could immobilise you in less than no time and much less delicately if the mood took him.

His lips brushed yours a little closer, and you could almost feel them completely. But this tiny glimpse of heaven wasn't granted to you, and you whimpered for a moment before finally just saying:

"Kiss me," you whined, "please."

His eyes crinkled with his smile.

"Mira que buena."

He finally kissed you, and it was like you had taken cotton candy in your mouth and as it melted you could feel all the little crystals of sugar that were hidden by the fluffiness of the sweet, a moan of relief vibrating from your lips against his lips.

Millions of tiny sparkles crackled under your skin, rising to the surface like champagne bubbles as Miguel cupped your face and kissed you. He took your lips as if you were holding the air that allowed him to breathe, his hand going round your side to slip under your back, pressing against your pelvis to bring it close to his.

He bit your lower lip lightly before pulling away, his half-closed eyes looking into yours again. His hand came to caress your cheekbone gently, with a tenderness that was almost unlike anything he had ever offered you before.

"Tell me more about these desires you mentioned.”

Your breath caught slightly, and you suddenly felt your face heat up fiercely, as if you were leaning over the hearth of a fireplace, its fire licking your face and your being from afar. You swallowed, formulating out loud your desires, all those thoughts you'd had about him even after your meeting at the Conditioning Centre and what had happened in the cabin, seemed difficult.

"Come on, don't be scared," he murmured before leaning over to kiss your forehead gently, offering you soft, sweet words to help you get the burning out of your soul.

All those thoughts you'd had, those warm nights during that week when you'd imagined the feel of his fingers, his lips, the sweet words that interested you as he searched inside you to expose you to him emotionally, all of them could be said, especially the one that was vibrating immensely inside you at the moment.

"I want... I want you to..."

You had the impression that the words you were about to say would be like throwing a tiny stone into still water, like stepping on ice and feeling it crack, like throwing alcohol into the fireplace that was warming you up.

The hand that was resting on your cheek ran down your neck, brushing your chest as it slid to your hip and slid all the way down to your thigh, stopping in its descent at that very spot, his hand gripping it.

"Hmm?" he asked, his humming vibrating against the skin of your cheek and tickling you.

You bit the inside of your lip, your teeth pressing into your flesh and trapping some of the wet skin against your bottom teeth. You released this clutch with a gasp as your voice dropped to a whisper when you whispered :

"I want you to fuck me."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, an eyebrow raised, his proud grin stretching across his cheek as his lip parted wide enough to reveal his fangs. He came to kiss your cheek, his soft lips caressing it as his lashes offered you butterfly kisses.

His grip on your thigh softened, his thumb making circular movements against your covered skin as a warm cloud began to form in your lower belly.

"Say that again," he said, his breath landing on your neck as his thumb began to move slightly up your inner thigh.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the simple sensation of his fingers on your body caressed you sublimely, a sigh of ease slipping from your lips. Miguel then took the opportunity to kiss the corner of your jaw, laying a trail of kisses that mixed sweetness and hunger, kissing and biting your skin. He lowered his lips a little further down your neck and kissed you lazily, the coolness of his lips meeting the fire burning at the back of your head. His lips reached a sensitive corner, causing you to let out a moan.

You moistened your lips, your cheeks burning as Miguel's fingers traced the sensitive skin of your thigh and his other hand rested on the small of your back, close to the cloud of heat.

And he expected you, with all these delicious distractions, to be able to string a sentence together properly and clearly. So you tried to speak louder, swallowing before saying:

"I want you to fuck me."

His lips came away from your neck, just brushing your ear before coming back to face you. The red of his eyes was deep, hungry, but above all attentive to your every move, which made him even more intimidating. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel them moving close to your skin as he spoke.

"There must be something with my hear because I can't hear properly what you said," he said, his tone a little less contained than he had managed to convey before, less composed, "say it louder."

His fingers continued their trajectory, very close to you, to where your desires came from, the knot in your lower abdomen tightening even though he never reached the spot. So this was the intense despair he'd felt earlier? The pain of his desire overcoming his thought and logic in the simple hope that he would be touched to turn the pain into sweetness?

You tried to move your hips a little, in the simple hope that he might go further, touch you, but he steadied you in an instant with his hand on your back, making you let out a little cry of longing.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze meeting his for a moment, and you saw it in the reflection of his eyes: the breadth of your desire spreading through your whole body.

You breathed in, gathering your strength and thoughts to say, "I want you to-"

His hand went up your back to the nape of your neck and traced up and down your spine, your body undulating uncontrollably as you concluded with a strangled sigh:

"Fuck me, please."

His carmine eyes watched you through his long black lashes, a proud sneer stretching his lips, your request seemed to have pleased him greatly.

If you had something to ask him, you might as well ask him politely. He tilted his head to one side, the light illuminating his jaw over his massive shoulder, it was so sharp it could have cut glass. Did he have any idea of the hold he had over you?

"Muy bien, bien hecho, muñeca," he murmured before kissing you again, gently.

His kiss was demanding, hungry, eager for your lips to be captured by his. Your hands, until now too afraid to touch anything or attempt any gesture, were tempted by the need to touch him in turn. They came to rest on his face, cupping it as he devoured your mouth relentlessly, his kiss a mixture of thirst, craving and the occasional sensation of his canines scratching your skin.

His thumb had moved up to your groin, deliberately avoiding and brushing very close to the part you'd been dreaming of him touching. Both his hands were now on your hips, gripping them to draw them to his.

And the electrifying sensation of his erection meeting in a single touch the excitement of your cunt that had grown inside you caused you both to moan together.

Your hand snaked through his hair, his sighs of comfort rushing into the depths of your body, blowing on the already burning fire inside you making it blaze and shine. His pelvis had begun to undulate against yours, the friction he was exerting against your covered flesh, against your throbbing clit, sending sparks throughout your body.

"Coño," he let out between kisses, one of his hands gripping your hip a little tighter to pull you closer to him and hold you in place while the other moved up your body like ivy on a statue, pressing against the back of your neck so that you were even closer. He wanted to eliminate any space between you, and you wanted it just as much, arching your body to his touch.

The kiss went from gentle to passionate, from passionate to hungry, and from hungry to needing more. Your tongues exchanged a waltz, and the next moment Miguel was back at your neck as your hand rested on his hip.

You needed more closeness, more of everything, but less clothing. He pulled you in again, straightening you up so that you ended up sitting on the desk, both your mouths still dancing.

He placed both hands firmly under your thighs, ready to lift you up.

"Hang on," he whispered between two kisses.

Without missing a beat you wrapped your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he lifted you with incredible ease, heading for a door at the back of the room: Miguel's quarters.

To avoid being bothered by anything during his precious, absent sleep, Miguel didn't belong to any of the dormitories, sleeping in secluded quarters. One of his hands came up to grip one of your buttocks, grasping it with his full hand and kneading it, a little hum of pleasure vibrating from your lips against his as you nibbled on it. You kissed his cheek, tracing his jaw with your wet skin.

As he depixelised his hand from his suit and placed it on the digital recognition pad, you gently kissed his neck, a rumble rising in his throat, a mixture of threat and plea for patience. But how could you still be patient? It was impossible, you were each other's tinder box and lighter.

As soon as the airlock opened, he came to kiss you dangerously, not tiring for a moment of the sensation of your lips caught between his. He walked quickly and eagerly, his erratic breathing colliding with your warm skin.

You rounded a corner, and the familiar sensation of a mattress under your back met you almost brutally. You were out of breath, lying back, looking at Miguel.

He stood there, looking down at you. His hair was dishevelled from the passage of your hands, his eyes shining like two rubies in the half-light, watching you hungrily. He towered over you, dominating you with his size and power. You shuddered, because at the moment he looked like a predator facing the prey he was about to devour.

He chuckled, moving closer as he put one knee on the mattress, one of his hands coming to rest beside your head, leaning gently over you, crawling up to spread your thighs as his face came level with yours.

And it was with the sensitivity that only lips possess that he whispered to you:

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," his mouth hungrily came to reclaim yours, his other hand sliding up your waist to reach your hip and hold it in place as he consumed you.

You were in his grip, entranced, trapped in the web of desire he had woven in your mind, every thread of which you touched bringing the spider back to its prey.

His hand came up to your head and nestled under the nape of your neck, looking for the zip to take off your suit. You helped him, pressing a little harder against his lips in your kisses as you raised your head to help him pull it off.

He found it, and you could feel with what composure he was pulling it. You knew perfectly well that if it had only been up to him, your suit would have been ripped to shreds and it would have been impossible to reassemble it properly and put it back together in one piece. But he was holding back, with difficulty.

The sensation of all those little metal teeth coming loose against your back and letting your abundantly heated skin breathe sent tingles through each of your ribs and down your spine, your back arching all the more at the sensation. Maybe having absolutely nothing under your costume could be complicated in certain situations, but it had never been as practical or as pleasant as it was right now. And Miguel seemed to agree.

His hand came to pull at the fabric, exposing your shoulder, and feeling his fingers run over it made you shiver. He continued to pull gently, your chest meeting the cool air until your breasts were bare.

He broke away from your lips for a moment, watching your skin like a flame and its enchanted dance. And you were burning, your whole body aflame with his touch, his kisses, his eyes. You couldn't undress him on your side, his costume knew no beginning or end other than pixels, and you found that profoundly unfair.

Then, very gently, his hand came to hover over your skin. It barely grazed, not even touching it, passing over the roundness of your shoulder, following your collarbone up to your cheek. He placed his hand on it, and it was as if your body was a diamond, every facet of which was illuminated by the light from his hand.

"Tan linda," he whispered, nestling back into the crook of your neck, kissing the warm, tender skin there. His kisses trailed down to your collarbone, sucking on your skin from time to time to reveal violet and pink flowers.

You hummed with delight under his touch, your body lighting up and glowing a little more with every touch of his lips against your skin. They came to rest between the valley of your breasts, his red eyes meeting yours as, while one of his hands pulled a little harder on the part of your suit that was still in place, his own suit began to depixel as he straightened up to face you.

Lips parted, you watched his body reveal itself, his tanned torso sculpted like a god. But above all, you couldn't help letting your eyes wander along the countless scars that marked his body.

Various shapes were mixed in, cuts, burns, strange, sinuous lines, all marking the traces of past dangers. And he had survived them all.

Gently, your hand came to rest on his cheek, pressing against your touch and kissing your palm as you let your fingers move down his torso. You let your fingertips trace a scar, caressing it gently, Miguel's breath shuddering against your skin for a moment.

Your breath caught in your throat as his bare hand grazed the skin of one of your tits, his thumb gently tracing the bouncing skin. His lips moved down the ridge of your breasts, kissing the soft, tender skin of it.

He looked into your eyes as he stuck out his tongue and ran it over your nipple slowly, the warmth of his saliva and the roughness of his muscle sending all sorts of little stars into your body.

It was as if your flesh was bare soil, and with his hands he brought forth flowers of many colours and intoxicating scents that enchanted you, making you drunk with his touch and the colours he painted under your skin.

His tongue traced the separation between your skin and your nipple, his hand resting on the other, pressing it gently between his large fingers. Then he kissed it gently, sucking lightly as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. And as the moans multiplied between your lips, he stopped, a smile stretching his lips as his hand dripped down your waist and clutched the rest of your costume.

As he pulled it off, in a slow motion, he kissed his way down your belly, letting buds of caress blossom on your body. Reaching below your navel, he exchanged a glance with you, seeking approval.

As a simple response, you raised your hips, and he gently pulled the rest of the costume down, his bare fingers brushing your buttocks and thighs as he pulled until you were covered by nothing but your panties.

One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other settled on your waist, lazily tracing your skin until it reached your groin, stopping there, drawing indescribable patterns as the fire in your lower belly heated up.

He stayed there, eyes riveted on yours, his other hand moving slightly up your inner thighs but not reaching your core either. The tingles it sent through your being were delicious, but you were getting impatient. Your pussy was almost starting to ache from the lack of touch and contact.

"Lower..." you murmured, your desires taking possession of your body, your reason silenced.

He tilted his head to one side, and the same words you'd said to him earlier in the bathroom came back to you:

"Say that again."

A grunt of frustration rattled against your teeth. Your own cards had just been used against you in your own game, and you had no say in the matter. His fingers continued to draw as if nothing had happened, sometimes reaching for half a second a little lower than where they were staying. You needed more.

"Touch me lower," you said, looking into his red eyes, which raised an eyebrow as if to say 'aren't you forgetting something?', so you punctuated your sentence with a little "please."

He smiled, dark, his tongue passing over his canine and his lip as he ran his fingers between your skin and the elastic of your panties, pulling the latter so that only the air, his hands and his warm breath covered you.

His fingers returned to your now naked groin, and he gently traced your skin, finally coming to touch your cunt, a sigh of respite taking hold of your chest as he gently passed a single finger between your lips.

"Hmm?" he hummed, raising his fingers to the height of his head, observing the sticky substance that glued to his skin, "would you look at that." Evidence of your arousal was placed before your eyes, "Am I the reason you're so wet ?"

Your head tucked into your shoulders, your cheeks heating intensely as he smiled wider.

"Tengo suerte," he murmured as his finger returned to your entrance, coating itself in more of your wetness as his thumb settled on your clit, making slow, hypnotic circular movements that tightened the knot in your lower abdomen.

Your hands clutched the sheets as you drew in a shaky breath, but he reached down and guided one of them to his hair, which you grabbed without hesitation.

"Like it when I touch you there?" he asked, echoing the words you had said to him in the cabin.

"Mhm," you agreed, unable to formulate a coherent sentence, inhaling more air as he pushed in his first finger.

His hands were big, his fingers thick, and he manipulated them all to perfection. His finger was streching you out, undulating to awaken exceptional sensations in you.

"How does that feel?" he asked, his tone composed and almost teasing in the way he asked you things.

"Good," you assented as he inserted a second finger, causing you to gasp out a moan, your eyelids closing of their own accord.

His fingers worked you out, curving up to touch the spot that made you see stars.

"Keeps your eyes on me," he whispered as his head lowered against your cunt, his hot breath falling against your damp skin, "I want you to see me."

With difficulty you complied, and he brought his tongue against your pussy, a moan of pleasure rising from your throat. The sensation of his hot, wet tongue licking your clit made your whole body burn.

Your hand gripped his hair more firmly, needing something to anchor it so that you didn't succumb entirely to all your vices. Miguel groaned at this gesture, and the sensation of his vibrant voice on your sensitive skin almost made you come in an instant.

Your pelvis moved of its own accord, and Miguel immediately grabbed it to immobilise you, his fingers and tongue working together to make you moan even more.

The sight reminded you immensely of the bullet incident: his eyes reddened, his tongue and lips resting on you while your fingers were knotted in his hair.

You were beginning to feel as if you were flying away, but it was at that precise moment that Miguel stopped, pulling his fingers out and his mouth away. You whimpered, a whiney complaint filling your mouth as you laid your head back in disappointment on the pillow, Miguel moving up to your face.

"I just wanted to make sure you'd know what it feels like."

The torment was unbearable, and you bit your lips for fear that, on the instant, you might send an insult into his face.

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow, "did I make you mad?"

His tone seemed almost condescending, addressing you as if you were a child. He brought his face close to yours, his eyes falling on your lips.

"Want me to fuck you, querida?" he questioned, his lips brushing yours "want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, simply nodding in response as his simple words managed to make your hair stand on end.

"Use your words," he said simply.

"Yes," you said, beginning to learn from his lessons, trying to find more strength in your voice, "fuck me, please."

He nodded, proud.

"Good," he said, bringing his two fingers, still covered with yourself, close to your lips, "open up."

Timidly, you parted your lips.

"Wider," he ordered in a calm voice.

You obeyed, and soon felt his moist fingers on your tongue. You licked them, his eyes watching with great interest. They were thick and having them both in your mouth wasn't easy, but by relaxing your jaw you eventually managed to suck them off properly, your eyes returning to his, feverish with desire.

Without further ado, he removed his fingers from your mouth and came to kiss your lips, hungry. The entre-met you had offered him wasn't enough, and he was fasting from it to be able to taste all the other parts of you that were still untouched by his lips.

His naked erection pressed against your cunt, and your hips undulated against the sensation as you let out an excited moan against his lips, your walls closing in on nothing.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he splayed his hand across your lower back, undoing the kiss to press his forehead against yours. He adjusted his cock in front of your entrance, coating himself in your juices, and just by that gesture and the memory of your hands, you knew it would be too much.

"Miguel it's," you breathed softly against him, "it's too big. I'll never-" but he cut you off.

"I'm sure you can take it, muñeca," he murmured softly, kissing your cheek.

He returned to kiss your lips, then asked before doing anything else:

"Ready?"

You inhaled softly, your eyes plunging into the red of his, before murmuring against his lips:

"Ready."

He nodded, coming to kiss you chastely before lining up his cock and thrusting in. A moan slipped from your lips, he was big, way too big.

"Shh," he soothed, kissing your temple, "you're tense cariño, breathe through your nose."

So you followed his instructions, trying to relax as much as possible as your nails on his back began to dig into his flesh. Your breath was coming in shaky gasps, your teeth sinking into your lip as Miguel whispered:

"You're doing so well," his hands gently caressing your arched back and thigh.

His voice relaxed you, your breathing a little more settled as he thrust deeper, stretching you out. He kissed your forehead tenderly, brushing the tiny tear from the corner of your eye with his lips.

"Just like that," he groaned, finally managing to fill you completely, "look at you taking me so well.

He kissed your lips gently, caressing the skin of your side. He kissed your cheek, then the side of your neck, sucking in one more mark.

Full, that's how you felt. He stretched you out fully, filling every inch of your being, meeting the warm cloud as he kissed you to contrast the sensation. And soon enough, you relaxed a little more.

"Are you ready for me to move?" he murmured, his thumb resting on your cheek.

As a simple response, breathing softly, you moved your hips on him. He smiled, kissing your lips softly as he pulled back slightly to push into you again, a shaky breath mingling with a moan that he swallowed from your lips.

His tongue came to meet yours, curling around it, sucking it between his lips tenderly as he took a slow rhythm to get you used to him.

He sprinkled kisses across your face, sloppy ones running over your warm naked skin, inevitably coming back to your neck, nibbling lightly. He traced your collarbone with his lips, running along it until he reached your shoulder, where the rounded skin was bitten and a moan was torn from your lips.

His hand came to take your arm, kissing the skin gently as he raised it, straightening slightly to manipulate and kiss it better.

His lips came to linger on the inner skin of your arms, depositing his lips gently as he traced that softened area, his pelvis taking on a slightly faster rhythm.

After the little treatment he'd given you, you weren't going to last long, so you let yourself be carried and touched by his adoring lips.

His tongue traced the skin on the inside of your wrist, his teeth grazing the separation between your hand and it. He came to kiss your palm, then delicately placed his lips on each of your knuckles before pressing it against his cheek.

Your thumb caressed it, and he surrendered to your touch. He then guided it to the side of your head, his fingers nestling in the crack of yours until your hands were intertwined.

"Qué guapa," he breathed.

His rhythm quickened, and you could feel the knot in your belly gradually tightening as Miguel's thrusting in and out of you became sublime, and the sounds you were making multiplied as he hit all the right spots.

Your fingers tightened on Miguel's hand as your other reached down his back to grip his arm, squeezing hard as you felt you were going to come.

"Miguel," you sobbed as he returned to kiss your lips, "I'm close."

It was a miracle you managed to get those few words right. The hand that wasn't intertwined with yours came to cup your face before moving down your body to grab your hip, a deep sigh escaping from his throat.

And you felt his canine gently bite your lip as the knot burst in your lower belly and a moan echoed in your throat. It was like a bolt of lightning striking against metal, spreading out in a powerful electric shock in your entire body as the pleasure beat like a second heart. Miguel's voice growled against your skin as you closed around him spasmodically, your nails clawing at his arm.

You twitched, Miguel kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, your lips. You were slowly coming down from your clouds, the sensations you had gradually fading.

"Tan buena..." he whispered, close to your lips, "but I'm not done with you yet.”

His fingers loosened from yours as he grabbed your arms with both hands to pull you against him and straighten you up. He was sitting, still inside you, making you sit on top of him, facing him.

One of his hands grabbed one of your buttocks, guiding you to move back and forth on him, while his other was on your back, caressing it.

He came to attack your lips again, the sound of your two bodies meeting clapping in the air as you felt completely disorientated by the pleasure. The speed with which he entered you was exceptional, and the sensations he triggered were even more so.

His lips moved over the back of your neck, then settled on your shoulder, his breathing becoming more and more jerky.

You tilted your head back, your voice interspersed with the feeling of him pounding you, the heat in your belly not entirely gone and tightening again.

Then the hand that had been resting on your back slipped between your two bodies and caressed your clit, your breath catching as you felt the cloud spread once more to the small of your back.

Miguel's voice grew less hushed as his rhythm quickened, his fingers working your clit with speed as you felt the climax building up again.

And all at once, you felt his fangs penetrate your beloved as he gave a powerful thrust, and you both came. The earth stopped spinning as you felt like you'd been sent miles above the clouds, both your bodies warm against each other, both of you breathless.

Everything seemed soft, floating, an inner peace had taken hold of both of you as you came down from this peak of pleasure.

He held you against him gently, running his tongue over the two slits he'd made in your skin. He pulled out of you, placing you so gently and carefully on the mattress that it was as if he had a spider's web in his hands.

You snuggled up to him, and he pulled the blanket over you as he kissed you again.

You felt safe here, cuddled in his huge arms that wrapped around you, his hands caressing your body with pure adoration and softness.

You kissed his chest, on one of his scars, and he breathed a profound sigh.

"How did you know?" he whispered.

The end of his question never came, but it was simple: how did you know I wanted to be kissed here? Probably no one had ever touched him this way, here, like that.

"There's nothing like tenderness to soothe the scars." you smiled.

He breathed out, his eyes had returned to their natural brown. He pressed you a little closer to him, his eyes locked in yours. Blue words are the ones you say with your eyes, when your lips are too tired.

"Maybe we'll have to find a name for this pseudo-friendship?" he smiled, the little chat you'd had on the first mission coming back to you as you smiled and kissed him sweetly.

"Why when we already have two letters?" you replied, placing your hand on his cheek, kissing your palm as his hand caressed your waist.

"Two letters?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah," you confirmed, your voice becoming a whisper, "us."

He gave you a candid, sincere smile before kissing your lips softly.

"Yes," he nodded, "we could make a great us, muñeca."

Us, two letters, a whole world.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Eight - Sparkling diamond

♡♡♡

Benedict joined his sister, Eloise, out in the garden again long after the other had gone to bed. She was smoking on the swing like last time.

As Benedict takes a seat on the opposite swing, she passes him the cigarette. He takes it.

"I found bits of your sketchbook in the fireplace," Eloise says.

"Are you spying on me now?"

"You'd actually have to be interesting for me to bother spying on you," she chuckles.

"The drawings in that sketchbook were abominable," he says firmly. "I could not stand to look at them."

"I believe that is why they call it a sketchbook." Eloise looks at them. "I write in my diary, which is not the same as wiring in my novel."

Benedict chuckles.

"It must be very difficult to want something and not be able to get it."

"Eloise..."

"If you enjoy drawing but need practise, then practise," she goes on. "Hire a drawing master. Find a young lady to act impressed."

You cross his mind. However, he doesn't want you to act impressed. He wants you to be impressed by his work. Genuinely so.

"If you desire the sun and the moon, all you have to do is go out and shoot at the sky. Some of us cannot.

"Look no further than Lady Whistledown. She possesses a huge talent for writing, and yet she must hide away and publish under a false name."

"Yes, because if anyone knew who Whistledown truly was, she'd be strung up for what she said," Benedict states.

"That is not my point. Whistledown is a woman, therefore she has nothing, and still she writes. You're a man, therefore you have everything. You are able to do whatever you want. So do it. Be bold."

Eloise envies her brothers.

"At least that way I can live vicariously through you." She rises to leave.

"Eloise... are you Lady Whistledown?" Benedict asks.

Eloise laughs.

"You're an accomplished writer, always scribbling in that diary of yours. You certainly know everyone else's business. You have more opinions than anyone else I know in London. You would have my full support and admiration either way, sister."

Elosie laughs again.

"So... is it you?"

"No." She looks at him. "Though if it were... do you honestly think that I'd admit it?"

Elosie heads back inside.

Benedict is left with his thoughts.

♡♡♡

The ballroom was elegantly designed. Soft shades to light up the room. You find yourself without a dance partner, however.

Prince Friedrich was in the middle of a dance with Cressida Cowper.

The duke was standing sternly off to the side with Lady Danbury. They appeared to be talking quietly, though judging by the stern faces, it was not a pleasant conversation.

You find yourself gently, and you admire the room. Benedict wasn't here. You couldn't see him at all.

That is not to say you had gone unnoticed. You glance to your left and find a perfectly suitable gentleman looking your way. You smile softly and turn your gaze away.

Tactics of flirtation were not completely out of your power.

Before anyone could make a move, however, the doors at the top of the stairs opened. It wasn't so much the doors that caught everyones attention, more like who had come through them.

You swear you all breath left you when your eyes landed on Daphne coming down the stairs with her mother. She was wearing the most beautiful silver gown you had ever seen, and her hair was beautifully done. She looked like, well, a princess.

In her hand was a feather fan. It went beautifully with her attire. She began to descend the stairs.

All eyes were on her.

Prince Friedrich was at the bottom of the stairs. Not once did he look away. You watch with interest as Daphne gets closer, closer, and closer to him.

The prince leaves Cressida's side to meet Daphne at the bottom stair.

The duke does not move.

Daphne stops.

"Miss Bridgerton, I simply musylt have your first dance." He speaks to her softly.

"It would be an honour, your highness." She curtsies.

A moment passes between them, and then you watch as Daphne drops her fan. Just like that, the prince kneels down to pick it up.

The prince kneeled.

You don't even realise the soft gasp you let out as you watch.

Prince Friedrich offers her the fan, and she takes it. She smiles at him and then gives the fun to her mother as she takes the prince hand.

They dance.

The duke leaves. Though he turns back to look at Daphne before he goes.

In the words of Lady Whistledown, why settle for a duke when one can have a prince?

♡♡♡

The invitation to attend the boxing match came from Anthony Bridgerton. You were rather pleasantly surprised by his invitation.

Anthony apparently needed some help to keep his mother quiet about finding a wife for himself.

You laughed.

You follow the siblings until they reach the prince. He approaches Daphne, but greets you, also. You curtsy.

Anthony then offers you his arm. "Shall we?"

You chuckle and take it, allowing him to lead you over to some seats. As you settle, you turn to the eldest Bridgerton.

"Where are you brothers?" You ask.

"My brothers? Currently talking to one of the fighters." He gestures to the edge of the ring where you spot Colin and Benedict.

You don't even notice you're smiling.

"You and my brother seem to have grown rather close." Anthony points out, looking at you.

"I can assure you there is nothing untoward. Your brother is my friend, as are you all now." You smile at him.

Anthony chuckles.

"Benedict seems to have a lot on his mind at the moment. I am not one to get in the way of someone's business."

"Smart woman," Anthony chuckles.

You nudge his arm lightly and wait for the fight to begin.

As the match is announced to begin, the other brothers find their way to you and Anthony. Benedict looks rather surprised to see you. "I had no idea you were attending."

"Your brother invited me to keep your mother off his back. It seems that is all I'm good for." You chuckle.

"No true, but appreciated none the less," Benedict comments.

You smile, and he takes the empty seat beside you. It does not go unnoticed that you keep your arm looped with Anthony's. He doesn't comment on it.

The fight is intense. You gasp with every hard punch. The men around you cheer on their victor.

You had never witnessed such a match before, and you would be lying if you said you were not somewhat into it.

As the crowd stands, you stand with them and cheer along with the Bridgerton brothers. William Mondrich was their friend, and he was putting up hell of a good fight.

Benedict finds it amusing how excited you seem to be.

Mondrich wins!

You cheer along with the brothers. You laugh at the excitement. It was a thrilling match, indeed.

Anthony helps you down from your seat and speaks close to your ear so you can hear him. "We're off to collect our winnings. I shall see to it you get home right after."

You nod and thank him. As he leaves to fetch his earrings, Benedict turns to you.

"Did you enjoy that?"

You chuckle. "I did. Surprisingly."

"I must say, I did not expect to see you in attendance."

"I am full of surprises."

Benedict looks at you quietly for a moment. "Yes. You are."

You smile and look away. However, his gaze lingers on you for a bit.

Later, the Bridgertons see to it that you get home safely before they head off to the club. A place for the gentlemen only.

Anthony helps you up into the carriage and thanks you for humouring him today. Yo return the gesture and wave as the carriage leaves.

Colin has to nudge Benedict out of his thoughts.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff -

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Heaven and Hell | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, ANNNGGSSSTTTTT, name-calling, mentions of self-hate, depression, anxiety, all the things. all of 'em.

Word Count: 4935

A/N: I will never forgive them for not giving us tatted-up Dean. I would literally sell my left leg for that to exist.

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“(Y/N),” Uriel ordered, eyes icy. 

Your stomach dropped. 

“Kill.”

All eyes in the room turned to you. 

“What?” you breathed out. 

“Remember what we talked about?” Uriel taunted, referring to the threats he’d made to you. “Kill.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean butted in. “Okay, I know she's wiretapping your angel chats or whatever, but it's no reason to gank her.”

“Don't worry. I'll make her be gentle,” Uriel smirked, nodding at you.

“You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?” Dean snarled. 

Castiel spoke up. “As a matter of fact, we are. And?”

“And?” Sam scoffed. “Anna's an innocent girl.”

“She is far from innocent,” Castiel argued. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” questioned Sam. 

Uriel was quickly losing patience. “It means she's worse than this abomination you've been screwing. (Y/N)?”

“(Y/N), no,” Dean begged, eyes flashing to yours. 

You were terrified, unsure of what to do. You didn’t want to hurt Anna, but you didn’t want to find out what happened to Dean or Sam if you didn’t listen.

“Who's gonna stop her? You two? Or this demon whore?” Uriel spat. He threw Ruby against a wall with his powers, and Dean attacked him. 

“Dean, no!” you pleaded, trying to pull Uriel off Dean. 

Uriel snarled, “I’ve been waiting for this.” With little regard to you, he punched Dean across the face. 

Suddenly, a bright light engulfed the room. When it cleared, Castiel and Uriel were gone. 

“What the fuck?” Dean cursed, standing hesitantly. He helped you to your feet while Ruby tended to Sam. “Anna. Anna!” He headed into the back room where Anna was on the ground, covered in her own blood.

The concern he was showing her was slightly worrying you. 

“Are they— are they gone?” she breathed out.

“Did you kill them?” he asked. 

Anna was sitting next to a sigil drawn in her blood. “No. I sent them away; far away.”

“You want to tell me how?” Dean pressed. 

“That just popped in my head.” She nodded at the sigil. “I don't know how I did it. I just did it.”

Your skepticism of Anna was growing by the minute. Maybe Uriel was right. Maybe you should kill her. 

****

Thankfully, the Winchesters shared your skepticism. Still, they thought it best to put Anna in Bobby’s panic room. You sat with Sam researching Anna while Dean put her in the warded room. 

“How’s the car?” Dean asked. 

“I got her,” you replied. “She’s fine. Where’s Bobby?”

“Uh, The Dominican. He said we break anything, we buy it,” Dean answered. 

“He working a job?” questioned Sam.

“God, I hope so. Otherwise, he's at hedonism in a banana hammock and a trucker cap.”

Sam grimaced. “Now that's seared in my brain.”

“Alright, what’d you find on Anna?” Dean asked, leaning over the back of your chair. 

“Uh, not much,” you answered. “Her parents were Rich and Amy Milton: a deacon and a housewife.”

“Riveting.”

“Exactly,” you nodded.

“But there is something here in the report,” Sam added. “Turns out, this latest psych episode wasn't her first.”

“No?” 

“When she was two and a half, she'd get hysterical any time her dad got close. She was convinced that he wasn't her real daddy.”

“Who was? The plumber, hmm? A little snaking the pipes?” Dean smirked deviously.

“Dude, you're confusing reality with porn again,” Sam deadpanned.

“Look, Anna didn't say. She just kept repeating that this real father of hers was mad. Very mad; like wanted-to-kill-her mad.”

“Kind of heavy for a two-year-old,” the older brother noted. 

“Well, she saw a kid's shrink, got better, and grew up normal.”

“Until now. So, what's she hiding?” you asked. 

“Why don't you just ask me to my face?”

You rolled your eyes, keeping your back to Anna who’d obviously just walked into the room. 

“Nice job watching her,” Dean told Ruby.

“I am watching her.”

“No, you're right, Anna,” said Sam. “Is there anything you want to tell us?”

“About what?” she asked innocently. 

“The angels said you were guilty of something. Why would they say that?”

“You tell me. Tell me why my life has been leveled; why my parents are dead. I don't know. I swear. I would give anything to know,” she replied. 

You stared her down. “Tell me why I don’t believe you.”

“Maybe because you’re buddy-buddy with someone who wants me dead,” she stated. 

“And I’m close to wanting you dead, too,” you snapped. “So give me some real answers.”

“Okay!” Sam tried to break up the tension. “(Y/N), take a lap.”

“Happily.”

****

Almost an hour later, Dean was leading a psychic named Pamela into Bobby’s house. She’d helped the boys identify Castiel, and her eyes had been burned out as a result. “We’re here!” the older brother called down into the basement you were hiding in. 

“Pamela, hey!” Sam said, standing from his chair. “It’s me; it’s Sam.”

Pamela felt her way over to the younger Winchester. “Sam, is that you?”

“I’m right here,” he told her. 

“Oh. Know how I can tell?” She grabbed his ass. “That perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a nickel off that thing. Of course I know it's you, grumpy. Same way I know that's a demon, and that poor girl's Anna, and that you've been eyeing my rack.”

Sam began to stammer. 

“Don't sweat it, kiddo. I still got more senses than most,” she snickered. Then, she turned toward you. “Oh, (Y/N).” She slowly made her way over to you, and you held your hand out for her to grab. Despite your attempts to steady her, you yourself were trembling. “Shh, darlin’, it’s okay.” 

Your bottom lip trembled. The last time you’d met a psychic, she’d revealed family secrets to Sam and Dean. There was a lot more this one could reveal now.

“Sweet girl,” she said quietly, “those angels are dicks. Forgive yourself.”

Tears sprang to your eyes, but you fought hard to keep them at bay. 

The woman turned back to Anna. “Hey, Anna. How are you? I'm Pamela.”

“Hi,” the redhead replied. 

“Dean told me what's been going on. I'm excited to help,” the psychic smiled.

“Oh. That's nice of you.”

“Oh, well, not really. Any chance I can dick over an angel, I'm taking it.”

You snorted. 

“Why?” Anna asked. 

“They stole something from me,” she replied, taking off her glasses, referring to her white eyes. “Demon-y, I know. But they're just plastic. Good for business. Makes me look extra-psychic, don't you think?” She laughed. “Now, how about you tell me what your deal is, hmm? Don't you worry.”

After several stress-inducing minutes, Anna sat up from the hypnotic state Pamela put her in. 

“I’m an angel,” the girl revealed. “Don't be afraid, I'm not like the others.”

“I don't find that very reassuring,” Ruby responded. 

“Neither do I,” murmured Pamela. 

“So, Castiel, Uriel— they’re the ones that came for me?” Anna asked. 

Sam piped up, “You know them?”

“We were kind of in the same foxhole,” she answered.

“So, what, were they like your bosses or something?” Dean questioned. 

“Try the other way around.”

“Look at you,” you mocked. 

Pamela spoke up next. “But now, they want to kill you?”

“Orders are orders. I'm sure I have a death sentence on my head.” 

“Care to explain?” you sneered. 

“I disobeyed. Which, for us, is about the worst thing you can do. I fell.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “You became human.”

“Wait a minute. I don't understand. So, angels can just become human?” asked Sam.

“It kind of hurts,” Anna replied. “Try cutting your kidney out with a butter knife. That kind of hurt. I ripped out my grace.”

Dean snorted. “Come again?”

“My grace. It's…” she trailed off, searching for the words, “energy. Hacked it out and fell. My mother, Amy, couldn't get pregnant. Always called me her little miracle. She had no idea how right she was.”

“So, you just forgot that you were god's little Power Ranger?” Dean remarked. 

“The older I got, the longer I was human, yeah,” she explained. 

Ruby chimed in, “I don't think you all appreciate how completely screwed we are.”

“Ruby's right. Heaven wants me dead.”

“And Hell just wants her. A flesh-and-blood angel that you can question, torture: that bleeds. Sister, you're the Stanley Cup. And sooner or later, Heaven or Hell, they're gonna find you,” Ruby told her. 

“I know. And that's why I'm gonna get it back,” Anna said vaguely.

“What? Your grace?” you asked. 

She nodded. 

You scoffed, shaking your head and turning away. 

“You can do that?” Dean asked her. 

“If I can find it.”

“So, what, you're just gonna take some divine bong hit, and, shazam, you're Roma Downey?”

The angel shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Alright. I like this plan. So, where's this grace of yours?” Dean asked. 

“Wait, you do?” you scoffed.

Anna spoke over you. “Lost track. I was falling about ten-thousand miles per hour at the time.”

“Wait. You mean falling, like, literally?” Sam questioned, seeming to have realized something. 

You couldn’t even be bothered to focus on what they were talking about and strode out of the room. 

Needing some solace, you went out to the junkyard and sat on top of one of the cars in the middle of the lot. You looked up at the stars, taking in the beautiful and peaceful night sky. You missed when life felt like that: beautiful and peaceful. 

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Pamela called. 

You turned over your shoulder to see Pamela, helped by Dean, heading over toward you. “Uh, hey,” you said, turning forward again. 

“C’mon, talk to momma,” Pam urged you, coming up beside you. Dean stood off to the side with his hands in his pockets. You tried your best to ignore the fact that he was even there. 

“No offense, Pam, but I don’t really know you,” you said.

“Dean, sweetheart, give us just a second, okay?” He nodded, going to stand by his car. When she couldn’t hear his boots on the gravel anymore, she said, “You’re right. But I know you.”

“So, what, you can see into my mind’s eye?” you joked. 

The woman laughed softly. “I can. And I can see what’s troubling you. And I won’t say it out loud if you don’t want me to.”

“I appreciate that,” you told her dejectedly. 

You knew she could tell by your tone you didn’t believe her. “You’re shouldering all this responsibility,” she said. “But it’s not yours to shoulder alone, alright?”

Tears welled up again. “It is,” you argued. “I can’t— They’ll never forgive me.”

“Who won’t?” she asked. “Sam and Dean? Please, those two teddy bears love you.”

Your bottom lip trembled. “I appreciate you trying to help.”

“But?”

“But I’m too far gone.”

****

You watched Anna and Dean from afar as they sat on top of the Impala’s trunk. It hurt your heart a bit given that was what the two of you did when you had your serious talks. 

Rationally, you knew your jealousy wasn’t based in reality. You didn’t think he trusted her, and he wasn’t the kind of person who would cheat on his partner. Still, it hurt to watch the two of them together while your relationship with him felt so strained. 

Sam walked up beside you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said. Neither of you looked at each other.

“I’m sorry,” Sam told you.

“I’m sorry, too,” you replied. 

He sighed. “I know you know more about Dean’s time in Hell than you’re letting on. And I let that get under my skin.”

“Sam,” you started, “trust me when I say you don’t wanna know.” 

You saw him nod and look at the ground out of the corner of your eye. “Uriel’s got you fucked up, man.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I know.” 

“And I know what he told you to do.”

Your heart nearly stopped. You took a moment to steady yourself before saying, “How?”

“C’mon, (Y/N),” he said. “You’re my best friend. Things have been… different, but I still know you.” Tension hung thick in the air while you waited for Sam’s next words. “He told you to kill me if I used my powers again, didn’t he?”

You nodded.

You heard him draw in a breath. “Are you going to?”

You hesitated. 

Sam scoffed.

“It’s not like I want to, Sam,” you stated evenly, still staring out at Dean and Anna. “If I don’t do what Uriel says, he’s gonna make me torture Dean.”

All function in Sam’s body stopped; you could almost feel it even though you still weren’t looking at him. “What?” he breathed out.

“Why do you think I do anything he says?” you laughed through the lump welling up in your throat.

“Does Dean know?” Sam questioned.

You shook your head.

“(Y/N/N), we gotta tell him—”

“No, Sam, we don’t have to do anything,” you cut him off, turning toward him for the first time. “He’s got too much on his fuckin’ plate right now. I won’t do that to him.”

“Don’t you think he could maybe… take away some of the guilt you’re feeling?” he suggested.

You turned away again. “No. It’d only make it worse.”

****

Sam brought you back inside to show you what he’d found; a tree had popped up in an empty clearing within a week in Union, Kentucky. He theorized that’s where Anna’s grace was, and Anna agreed.

However, her grace wasn’t there.

You, Anna, Ruby, and the Winchesters headed into an abandoned barn beyond the tree. 

“We still got the hex bags. I say we head back to the panic room,” Dean suggested.

Ruby scoffed. “What, forever?”

“I'm just thinking out loud!”

“Oh, you call that thinking?”

You squeezed the bridge of your nose, a pounding headache forming. 

“Hey!” Sam protested. “Hey, hey, hey. Stop it.”

“Anna's grace is gone,” Ruby stated, clearly ignoring him. “You understand? She can't angel up. She can't protect us. We can't fight Heaven and Hell. One side, maybe, but not both. Not at once.”

“Um… guys? The angels are talking again.”

The four of you waited for Anna to explain. 

“It's weird; like a recording, a loop. It says, ‘Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or…’ “ she cut herself off. 

“Or what?” you asked. 

“ ‘Or we hurl him back to damnation.’ “

“Alright, time’s up, sister,” you said, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N), wait!” Dean grunted, stomping after you. 

Anna tried to wriggle away. “(Y/N), let me go! You’re hurting me!” 

“Uriel!” you called. 

Dean clapped a hand over your mouth, your surprise giving Anna the opportunity to get away from you. You shook him off you and spun around with your eyes burning in anger. “The fuck, Dean?!” 

“The hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted. 

“Me?” you argued. “What’s wrong with you?! Do you want to go back?”

“No, but I’m not gonna send some girl to her death off-rip!” he scoffed. 

You rolled your eyes, turning away from him. 

“What?” he probed, seeing you had something more on your mind. “(Y/N), what?!”

“Nothing, I just find your protectiveness of her really interesting.” You licked your teeth, quirking a brow. 

Dean scoffed and shook his head. “Seriously?” he nearly deadpanned. “You’re pulling that card?”

You furrowed your brows. “It’s not a card, Dean, I can see it! If fucking her is worth going to Hell for, then, by all means.” You threw your hands up in Anna’s direction, noticing that Sam, Ruby, and the angel had all backed away from you and Dean. 

“Where is this coming from? Is this really the time to pick a fight?” he asked. 

You closed your eyes, frowning. “You’re right. Let me go waste my fucking time researching how to kill and angel or a demon with no knife and take on multiple at once. All over one bitch.” You stormed away in complete fury. 

Anna tried to say something to you as you passed. You wheeled around to her and got in her face. “You say one more fucking thing to me, and you’re gone, you got it? I will get Uriel down here so fucking fast, it’ll make your head spin.”

****

You took a machete out to the surrounding woods and just hacked at as many trees as you possibly could. You stood in the center of a ring of six, almost like you were staging a battle, and swung at each with all your might. 

Then, you sat down against one of the trees you’d hacked at. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the bark of the tree. Then, you heard talking a little ways off from you. It was just barely there, but you heard enough murmurings to get your attention. As you crept closer, you felt your blood begin to boil. 

“A little scared, I guess,” the voice you identified as Anna’s was saying. “So, um... Dean... I just wanted to thank you.”

You were close enough now that you were a tree trunk’s distance away from the two figures standing near the Impala.

“For what?” he asked. 

“Everything. You guys— you didn't have to help me—”

Dean cut her off. “Hey, let's can the ‘thanks for trying’ speech, y’know? Participation trophies suck ass.”

She sighed. “I don't know. Maybe I don't deserve to be saved.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Dean told her. 

“I disobeyed. Lucifer disobeyed. It's our murder one, and I knew it. Maybe I got to pay.”

“Yeah, well, we've all done things we got to pay for,” he said, his voice carrying a weight. 

“I got to tell you something. You're not gonna like it.”

“Okay. what?”

“About a week ago, I heard the angels talking,” she started. “About you. What you did in Hell. Dean, I know. It wasn't your fault. You should forgive yourself.”

“Anna, I don't w-want to, uh... I don't want to... I can't talk about that,” Dean stammered. You knew him well enough to know he was keeping tears at bay.

“I know. But when you can, you have people that want to help,” she said. “You are not alone. That's all I'm trying to say.” 

Then, you heard something that nearly had you slitting her throat. She kissed him. Your Dean. 

Thankfully, you didn’t need to reveal yourself. 

“Whoa,” Deans said. “Uh, Anna, you’re great, and all, but (Y/N)’s my girl.”

Despite everything, he still called you that. That made you incredibly grateful, and you were angry at yourself for doubting him. 

“Oh, uh,” she said, “I’m sorry. I just thought— I mean, you never denied being attracted to me when she said something about it earlier.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “And I should have.”

Anna clicked her tongue. “Guess I misread things, then.”

A silence followed. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally told him. Then, you heard leaves crunching as she walked away and back toward the barn where Ruby and Sam were preparing for war. 

When she was far enough away, you walked out from behind your tree, apparently scaring the hell out of Dean.

“Jesus, (Y/N),” he said when he saw you. “You scared the crap outta me.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “Need to go change your drawers?”

He snorted. “I think I’ll be good.”

An almost awkward silence passed between the two of you. 

“Guess you heard all that, huh?” he asked. 

You nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. 

“I’m sorry, too,” you replied. 

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. “What’s goin’ on with us, sweetheart?”

You felt both hurt and warmth from his familiar nickname. “It’s not you, Dee, it’s me.” Your lip trembled. 

“Then, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on,” he begged. 

“I can’t.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” Dean probed. “We can’t fix us if you don’t tell me.” “He wants me to kill Sam,” you finally said. 

Dean froze. “What?”

“If Sam uses his powers again, Uriel wants me to kill him,” you told him. “And, Dean, I can’t promise you that I won’t if he does.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “What, why?”

“Because you know what he will make me do to you if I don’t listen,” you reminded him. 

“You realize if you… kill Sam, I will never forgive you, right?” Dean said in complete disbelief.

“It’s not like I want to! But I will not put you through what I’m capable of. I won’t do it.” 

He took a moment to think but finally nodded. “Okay.” You cocked your head to the side. “Okay?”

“We’ll find a way out. He won’t use ‘em again, I promise,” he told you. 

You nodded. “Okay.” The relief he was bringing to you made you feel safe enough to let it all out. Tears started flowing freely, and Dean brought you into his chest. “I don’t wanna have to hurt him, Dean,” you hiccuped. “He’s my best friend. And— And I don’t want you to hate me if Uriel makes me hurt him.”

“Hey, let’s not even go there, alright?” Dean said. “We’re not even gonna consider that possibility.” 

You nodded against his chest and sniffed. You looked up at him, eyes still shining as you tried to collect yourself. 

Almost as if spellbound, he said, “You are so beautiful.”

Immediately, you wound your arms around his neck and kissed him. He reciprocated the action, tugging your waist closer to him and biting your lower lip. 

You pulled on his hair with one hand and slid your other down his chest. Then, you slipped your fingers between his belted jeans and stomach, making him suck in a sharp breath. 

“Backseat?” he asked you. 

“Backseat.” 

Every time you and Dean had sex, it was an out-of-this-world experience. He always made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him. Each roll of his hips, each kiss down your neck conveyed everything his words couldn’t. He completely worshipped you; not just your body. Everything in the way he treated you told you he loved you from the inside out. 

You tried to give him that same love. He was your everything, and you wanted him to feel that, too. Despite the storm going on inside you, he was the one thing you were completely sure of. He was the one person you enjoyed fighting with. You’d rather fight with him than love anyone else. Dean Winchester was it for you, and you hoped the way you held him to your chest while he slept conveyed that. 

Soon, your breathing began to match his, the way you stroked his hair slowed, and you drifted off to sleep as well. 

****

When you and Dean woke up, he seemed a lot more stressed than he had been the night before. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked him. 

He shook his head. “Just a bad dream.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him. 

He sat up between your legs and tugged on a fresh shirt from his duffel bag. “It’s fine.” At your concerned look, Dean rubbed the inside of your bare thigh to reassure you. “It’s fine, I’m good.”

The two of you went inside the barn to see if Sam had found anything interesting through the night. 

“I don't know, man,” Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“So, nothing, then, I’m guessing,” you said. 

He shook his head. “Where's Ruby?”

“Hey, she's your Hell buddy.” Dean took a swig of his flask. 

“Little early for that, isn't it?” Anna laughed, the sound of her voice making your blood boil. 

“It's two a.m. somewhere,” Dean replied, voice distant.

“You okay?” she asked him. 

“He’s fine,” you snapped. 

Then, the doors flew open. 

“Hello, Anna,” Castiel said, voice as gravelly as ever. “It's good to see you.”

“How? How did you find us?” Sam asked, confused and startled.

“Dean?”

Dean turned to Anna. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Sam asked. 

“Because they gave him a choice. They either kill me or kill her,” Anna explained, nodding at you. “I know how their minds work.” She looked up at Dean, who couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “You did the best you could. I forgive you.” Then, she stepped forward. “Okay. No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready.”

“I'm sorry,” said Castiel. 

The angel shook her head. “No, you're not; not really. You don't know the feeling.”

He shrugged. “Still, we have a history. It's just—”

“Orders are orders, I know.” She drew in a breath. “Just make it quick.”

Then, a bleeding Ruby appeared with a demon and Alastair. “Don't you touch a hair on that poor girl's head,” the latter sneered. 

“How dare you come in this room, you pussing sore?” Uriel growled. 

Alastair chuckled darkly. “Name-calling. That hurt my feelings, you sanctimonious, fanatical prick.” 

“Turn around and walk away now,” Castiel ordered.

“Sure,” the demon shrugged. “Just give us the girl. We'll make sure she gets punished good and proper.”

“You know who we are and what we will do. I won't say it again. Leave now, or we lay you to waste.” 

“Think I'll take my chances.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. You drew one of your knives from your jacket and threw it at Alastair. He caught it easily, chuckling. Then, all Hell broke loose. Castiel attacked Alastair, Uriel exorcised the other demon, and you stood back near Sam. 

Then, Alastair tried to exorcise Castiel. Dean reacted by picking up a crowbar and hitting him over the head with it. 

Alastair turned around slowly. “Dean, Dean, Dean... I am so disappointed. You had such promise.”

Your attention was quickly taken away from Dean and the demon by Anna rushing Uriel. She smashed the pendant from around his neck on the ground, and a brilliant white light began to flow into her mouth. “Shut your eyes,” she said, quietly at first. “Shut your eyes! Shut your eyes!”

You cowered into Sam’s side, the two of you shielding each other with your jackets. When it seemed the light had gone away, you reopened your eyes. Uriel, Castiel, and Ruby’s knife were all that remained of the battle. 

“Well, what are you guys waiting for? Go get Anna. Unless, of course, you're scared,” Dean taunted. 

“This isn’t over,” Uriel said.

“Oh, it looks over to me, junkless,” your partner retorted. 

Castiel and Uriel disappeared. 

“You okay?” Sam asked Ruby. 

She shook her head. “Not so much.”

“What took you so long to get here?”

“Sorry I'm late with the demon delivery. I was only being tortured,” she scoffed. 

You shook your head, smiling slightly. Of course, the Winchesters had a bigger plan all along. 

“I got to hand it to you, Sammy. Bringing them all together all at once; angels and demons. It was a damn good plan,” Dean told his little brother. 

The brunet shrugged. “Yeah, well, when you got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass, best to get out of their way and let them fight.”

You rolled your eyes. “Now you’re just bragging.”

“So, I guess she's some big-time angel now, huh? She must be happy; wherever she is.”

“I doubt it,” you murmured. 

****

When all was said and done, you and the boys were off again. 

About four hours into your drive, Dean pulled off to the side of the road for a bit of reprieve. 

Sam took the opportunity to get a beer out of the trunk, and the three of you sat on the hood of the car together. 

“I can’t believe we made it out of there,” Dean said. 

“Again,” you snorted. You reached across Dean to clink your beer against Sam’s. 

Dean broke the momentary silence. “I know you heard him.”

Sam cocked his head to the side. “Who?”

“Alastair. What he said... about how I had promise.”

You stared down at the pavement in front of you knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. 

“I heard him,” Sam nodded solemnly.

“You’re not curious?”

“Dean, I'm damn curious. But you're not talking about Hell, and I'm not pushing.”

Your partner took a deep breath. “It wasn't four months, you know.”

“What?”

“It was four months up here, but down there…” Dean trailed off. “I don't know. Time's different. It was more like forty years.”

“My god,” Sam murmured. 

“They, uh... “ Dean choked out. “They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you— until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly, I would be whole again; like magic. Just so they could start all over. And Alastair, at the end of every day— every one— he would come over. And he would make me an offer.” You could hear him holding back sobs. “To take me off the rack if I put souls on; if I started the torturing. And every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines.” He paused, taking in a shuddering breath. “For thirty years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls. The— the things that I did to them.”

“Dean,” Sam tried. “Dean, look, you held out for thirty years. That's longer than anyone would have.”

The older Winchester couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. “How I feel— This— Inside me— I wish I couldn't feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[shadyfestivalperfection]

Love, Lies And Loki~24

Summery: First Kick, Baby shower and weird cravings!

Characters: Loki x pregnant!wife!reader

Note: All characters except y/n are not mine!

||Master List||

25. Woven Together (requested!)

🍼 Little Mischiefs P-2 🎁

It was just past midnight, and the quiet of the house was only broken by the occasional rustle of tree branches brushing against the windows. Loki had finally managed to doze off, one arm thrown over the heap of pillows Y/N had constructed into a nest to support her ever-growing belly. The twins were nearing six months, and her body had begun insisting on more comfort than ever before.

But Y/N was not asleep.

Not even close.

She lay still for a few minutes, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to will herself to ignore the gnawing hunger that had crept up out of nowhere. It wasn’t just hunger—it was a craving. A very specific one.

She glanced at the time on the clock beside her.

12:41 a.m.

She whispered to herself, “I need pickles… and whipped cream.”

It sounded absurd even as the words left her lips, but the more she thought about it, the more irresistible the combination became. She gently moved Loki’s arm and began to slip out of bed, slow and careful.

But Loki’s eyes opened immediately.

“Darling?” His voice was still hoarse with sleep, but his senses were clearly alert. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry. I’m just… hungry,” she said sheepishly, her hand resting protectively on her belly.

Loki propped himself up on one elbow, eyeing her suspiciously. “You’ve already eaten more than Volstagg today. Are the little mischiefs not satisfied?”

She turned, a small smile playing at her lips. “They want something weird. I’m just going to the kitchen. Go back to sleep.”

But Loki had already swung his legs out of bed and reached for his robe. “If you’re going, I’m going with you. I won’t have you waddling around half-asleep and hungry at midnight. It’s dangerous.”

“Loki, it’s literally ten steps away—”

“Hush,” he said, already slipping his arm around her waist as they walked. “A queen of mischief and her royal cargo should never journey alone.”

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately but leaned into his side anyway.

In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and triumphantly pulled out a jar of pickles and a can of whipped cream. Loki stared.

“Please tell me you’re not planning to combine those.”

Y/N grinned. “I wasn’t… until just now.”

Loki watched in muted horror as she perched on a stool and expertly dipped a pickle into a swirl of cream.

“You can’t possibly enjoy that.”

She took a bite. Her eyes fluttered shut. “You have no idea.”

Loki narrowed his eyes as though the food itself had personally offended him. “That is abominable.”

“Wanna try?”

“Absolutely not. I have fought dragons, Y/N. I draw the line at dairy-coated vegetables.”

She laughed, and Loki felt a warmth spread through him—this domestic absurdity was his new normal, and somehow, it was everything.

Y/N polished off another pickle, then gasped suddenly, her eyes wide.

Loki instantly straightened. “What? What is it?”

She placed her hand on her stomach, stilling.

“Loki… I think they kicked.”

“What?” He knelt instantly beside her stool, pressing his hands gently against the bump. “Here? Do it again, little beasts!”

She chuckled, guiding his hand. A moment later, there it was—a distinct flutter, followed by a firmer thump.

Loki’s eyes widened in wonder. “By the Norns…”

Y/N could see the exact moment his usual smugness melted away, replaced with pure awe.

“That was them,” he whispered.

She nodded. “They’re real, Loki.”

He leaned in, kissed her belly softly, then looked up at her, his voice reverent. “They’re perfect.”

⸻

A soft spring sun beamed down over their backyard, where round tables were dressed in pastel linens and tiny floating clouds of illusion-magic hung overhead like little puffs of joy. It had been Loki’s idea—“Why not create charm-enhanced clouds instead of mere balloons?”—and he had spent the better part of the morning fine-tuning their glow to match Y/N’s favorite shades of blue and lilac.

Y/N stood barefoot in the grass, one hand cradling her bump and the other resting on her hip as she watched the final touches being placed.

“Okay, but do we really need illusion foxes handing out cupcakes?” she teased, watching as a glamoured little white fox trotted up to a platter of vanilla treats.

Loki, dressed in a lightweight green tunic and a golden circlet, gave her a pleased smile. “Absolutely. You are the goddess of this celebration, and no goddess throws a dull party.”

“You say that like I’m actually divine,” she murmured.

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm gently around her. “You are—perhaps not by birthright, but by spirit, by strength, and by how completely you’ve enchanted me.”

Y/N blinked away the sudden warmth in her eyes. “You’re not allowed to be this sweet before guests arrive. I need to keep my mascara intact.”

Just then, a booming voice echoed from beyond the house. “Did someone say party?”

Thor appeared, practically glowing with excitement. Beside him stood Brunnhilde, dressed in a sleek silver jumpsuit and carrying a gift wrapped in shimmering blue paper.

“I brought ale!” Thor bellowed.

“And I brought a bottle for the pregnant woman,” Brunnhilde said dryly, holding up a fancy bottle of sparkling fruit juice.

Y/N laughed and waddled forward to hug them both. “You two are officially my favorite Asgardians.”

“Hey!” Loki said indignantly.

Brunnhilde grinned. “He’s a close second.”

As more guests trickled in—Natasha, Sam, Bucky, even Doctor Strange, begrudgingly holding a baby rattle encased in a containment charm—Y/N was overwhelmed by the love and care surrounding her.

After games (Thor enthusiastically failed the “guess the baby food” challenge), cake (two-tiered and decorated with mischief-themed frosting), and lots of laughter, the group moved on to presents.

Y/N unwrapped tiny booties enchanted by Wanda to keep feet warm forever, a miniature Mjolnir rattle carved from enchanted wood, and a cloak embroidered with golden runes—“To match their father’s arrogance,” Brunnhilde quipped.

Toward the end, Loki brought forward a slim box wrapped in emerald green.

Y/N opened it to find a pair of matching bracelets—delicate, golden, and laced with starlight magic.

“They’re protection charms,” he said softly. “So that even when I’m not near, they’ll always feel my presence.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “Loki…”

He pressed a hand to her cheek. “I just want them to grow up knowing they are never alone. That their father is always watching over them.”

She cupped his face in return, eyes wet. “They’ll know, Loki. They’ll feel it. Because they’ll see it every day in how you love us.”

And then, with the sun sinking low and the sky painted in soft hues, Loki knelt before her, resting both hands on her belly and whispering in Old Norse, words only the wind understood.

“Protect your mother. Listen to her. She is everything.”

⸻

The house was finally quiet. Empty cups and ribbons scattered across the kitchen counters, leftover cupcakes tucked away in boxes, and colorful wrapping paper shimmered under the moonlight filtering through the windows. The baby shower had been a beautiful chaos—Thor’s booming laughter still echoed in Y/N’s ears, Brunnhilde’s mischievous toast about future godling twins, and Natasha’s gentle questions about how she was feeling lately. Everyone had smiled, joked, celebrated.

It should have been perfect.

But now that it was over, the echo of laughter had given way to silence, and something Y/N couldn’t name twisted inside her. She padded barefoot to the backyard, tugging one of Loki’s old green shawls around her shoulders as the evening breeze kissed her skin. She didn’t want to turn on the garden lights. She didn’t want to explain why her throat was tight or why she’d been smiling all day while a strange weight settled on her chest.

The soft creak of the wooden swing welcomed her like an old friend. She sat gently, her hand instinctively settling over her growing belly. The twins. It should’ve been a memory to treasure.

And it was. Mostly.

But somewhere in the hidden corners of her heart, something stirred. Something fragile.

She didn’t hear Loki approach at first—he was quiet when he wanted to be. But she knew the moment he stepped outside, a wave of familiar magic brushing her skin like a whisper.

“Sweetheart?”

His voice was low, tentative. He didn’t want to startle her.

She didn’t turn her head, but her hand clenched slightly in the fabric of his shawl.

“I saw you weren’t in bed,” he said gently, crossing the distance between them.

She didn’t reply. She didn’t know how.

Loki moved slowly, as if unsure whether to press further. When he reached her, he hesitated just a moment before sitting on the swing beside her, careful not to make it sway too harshly.

Moonlight painted silver across his face, catching the worry etched between his brows.

“Y/N,” he murmured again, this time softer. “What’s wrong, love?”

She exhaled shakily, still staring straight ahead. The garden around them was quiet save for the breeze through the trees and the faint hum of magic in the earth.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think… I should be happy.”

“You are happy,” Loki said, but the words weren’t defensive. They were hopeful. Fragile.

“I am,” she nodded slowly, blinking back fresh tears. “I am. But also… not. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Loki didn’t interrupt. He simply waited, watching her, waiting to understand.

Y/N finally turned her head toward him, her voice trembling. “Do you ever feel like you’re not enough?”

Loki blinked. He wasn’t expecting that. “For what?”

“For this,” she gestured vaguely to herself, to the house, to the entire world they’d built. “For the life we have. For you. For our children.”

Loki’s expression softened, but he didn’t immediately reassure her. He didn’t say that’s not true, or don’t think like that.

He leaned in slightly, voice low. “Where is this coming from?”

She swallowed hard. “I heard your mother’s name mentioned today. Frigga. Thor told me once that she was everything—powerful, wise, magical. She taught you everything you knew. And when I look at myself… I’m not her. I don’t come from magic or royalty. I’m just me. A fashion designer with shaky hands and hormone-fueled meltdowns. What if I can’t give them what they need?”

Loki’s jaw tensed for a moment—but not in anger. Just pain. He reached for her hand slowly and curled his fingers over hers.

“You are not just anything, darling. You are everything.”

“But Loki—”

“No,” he said, more firmly. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to someone you never needed to become.”

She tried to look away, but he cupped her chin gently, turning her eyes back to his.

“My mother was incredible. I loved her more than words. But you are not meant to be her. You are you. And our children—our twins—will love you for exactly who you are.”

Y/N’s lip quivered. “But what if I mess it up? What if I can’t protect them?”

Loki’s hand slid from her chin to her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears.

“Then I will protect you all. I will shield you with every part of me. That is not your burden alone. We are in this together, always.”

She leaned into his palm, eyes falling closed. “I feel so strange lately. Like my emotions are bouncing everywhere. I was crying over spilled tea yesterday.”

“I remember,” he said, with the ghost of a smile. “You accused the kettle of betrayal.”

Y/N let out a broken laugh, curling closer to him, the tension in her shoulders slowly loosening.

“I just… I want to be strong for them. I want to be strong for you.”

“And I want you to know,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple, “that strength isn’t about never being scared. Or never doubting. Strength is sitting in the moonlight, baring your soul, and letting yourself be seen. You’re already stronger than you know, my love.”

She breathed slowly. “You always know what to say.”

“That’s because I know you,” he said. “Every little spark and storm. And I wouldn’t trade this life with you for all the thrones in all the realms.”

Y/N pulled back just slightly to meet his eyes. “Promise?”

“I swear it,” he said, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “You—we—are the magic I never thought I’d be allowed to have.”

The tears came again, but this time softer. Healing.

Loki wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her to rest against his chest. The swing creaked gently beneath them, and the stars blinked above, listening quietly.

“I’m scared sometimes too,” he admitted, after a long pause.

“You are?”

He nodded. “Terrified. That I’ll do something wrong. That I won’t know how to be a father. That I’ll somehow pass along the worst parts of me.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide. “You could never.”

“I could,” he said gently. “But I won’t. Not if I have you beside me.”

There was a long silence between them, but it wasn’t heavy. It was full of quiet warmth, the kind only shared by those who knew the weight of love and chose it anyway.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “I love you more.”

“No, I do.”

He chuckled softly. “We could go on like this for hours.”

“We have,” she laughed, her mood slowly brightening. “Remember our first anniversary? You argued for twenty minutes that I loved you more.”

“And I was right.”

Y/N shook her head, resting her hand on her belly. “I think the twins might have opinions on that.”

Loki placed his hand beside hers, feeling the soft magic still humming within her. “They’ll know their mother is the fiercest, most radiant soul the realms have ever seen.”

She smiled, tilting her head against his. “Will you stay out here with me a little longer?”

“For eternity, if you ask.”

And so, beneath the stars, on the creaky wooden swing in their backyard, they sat. The goddess and her god. The mother and the father. Two souls tangled in love, in worry, in promise.

A soft wind swept through the garden, and a single white bloom opened on a vine nearby—out of season, shimmering with faint gold.

Magic.

Love.

Life.

And the promise of all things to come.

-to be continued

[imlosingitiswear]

Tw: pure vent and lots of screaming

I sincerely thought that I'll be able to keep this inside but the latest episode has made me mad beyond reason so I shall let the anger out, even if it's only for my mental health's sake and no one ends up reading it.

Spoilers alert (though I won't be talking about the events, just their execution) for ep 3

EXCUSE ME BUT WHAT THE LEGITIMATE HELL IS THIS ABOMINATION OF MINDLESSLY COMBINED MANGA PANELS WITH NO THOUGHT, CARE OR YEN SPENT ON ANY EFFORT ASIDE FROM SHINY LOOKING STILLS

I am an animator.

I have fallen in love with animation ever since I started watching anime.

My first anime was Kuroshitsuji.

My reason to be where I am today, creating what I do, fighting for what I believe is right and worthy of passion comes from Kuroshitsuji.

The reason I feel things the way I do comes from Kuroshitsuji.

And some business head only looking to steal as much of the already-limited-budget as possible IS NOT GOING TO BE THE REASON I FOREVER DESTAIN THE STORY AND CHARACTERS WHO COMPRISED MY FIRST EVER CONSCIOUS FEELINGS TOWARDS THE CRAFT OF ANIMATION.

Oh I'm sorry, WAS IT PERHAPS TOO HARD TO NOT ONLY LOOK AT THE SOURCE MATERIAL BUT ACTUALLY READ IT THE WAY INTENDED?

Was it TOO HARD TO ACTUALLY FEEL WHAT THE CREATOR WANTED YOU TO FEEL WHILE I'm not even gonna say reading cus its more of an EXPERIENCING THE MASTERPIECE THAT THE KURO MANGA HAS, IS AND CONTINUES TO BE NEARLY 20 YEARS AFTER ITS CREATION???

Was it THAT. HARD. TO PUT EFFORT INTO THE SOUND DESIGN AND TIMING OF YOUR SHOTS AND HOW THEY CONNECT TO THE OTHER SHOTS WITHOUT MAKING IT LOOK LIKE A FANCY POWERPOINT PRESENTATION???

I feel sorry for every animator who has had to bust their bum to make a shot look pretty and "appealing" even though that's absolutely not what the aesthetic of this project demands it to be but that is partially me being very attached to the og style and also finding NO REASON WHATSOEVER FOR THE COLORS TO BE THIS BRIGHT, MAKING THIS ANIME BLEND IN WITH EVERY OTHER ANIME FROM 2020 ONWARDS BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE LIKE RIGHT??? THAT'S WHAT KIDS THESE DAYS NEED - SOFT, CUTE, BIG EYED, PAINFULLY BRIGHT POWER POINT PRESENTATIONS WHO MAY OR MAY NOT MAKE NICE PC WALLPAPERS FOR A FEW WEEKS BEFORE THEY'RE FORGOTTEN FOR THEIR LACK OF UNIQUENESS AND RESPECT TOWARDS THE MATERIAL THEY ORIGINATE FROM

I have no idea how Yana feels about this.

I really, really need to know how Yana feels about this.

How is it possible for you to take some of the strongest scenes in the story and execute them in such a boring and cheap way, it's almost like you were doing it on purpose at this point.

Do you guys notice how the new seasons are OBVIOUSLY made by people who have a business and not a creative brain???

They don't care about respecting the aesthetic, ever since the first episode of the school arc when they literally trademarked "Yes, my lord." to be a phrase that sells the character more than it respects it.

The animation is so unbelievably average, it's unreal. The key frames are pretty, sure, but they're not what makes an animation, THEY'RE WHAT MAKES A MANGA AND THE MANGA IS ALREADY BEAUTIFUL BUT MORE THAN THAT, IT ALREADY EXISTS?!?

THE POINT OF THE ANIMATION IS TO MAKE IT MOVE, MAKE IT AN ENHANCED EXPERIENCE THAN READING THE SOURCE MATERIAL, MODERN ANIME HAS FORGOTTEN THAT.

Everything, EVERYTHING IS ABOUT THE MONEY AND HOW THE BIG BUSINESSHEADS CAN PROFIT FROM THE AVERAGE VIEWER BECAUSE THE STANDARD IS DYING, WE'RE BEING SLOWLY MANIPULATED INTO CHEAPER AND CHEAPER PRODUCTS AND IT ALL SUCKS AAH AND I'M SO TIRED OF IT

You know what didn't suck? THE VOICE ACTING, ABSOLUTELY AMAZING EXECUTION ON THE VAs PART, AT LEAST THAT ARTFORM IS GOING STRONG

But that's not the point...

The point is. We're not doing anything to change what's happening.

As I said, I don't know how Yana feels about this and if this is indeed what she wants from the show, then so be it.

But I find that hard to believe.

But that's just me.

All and all, I'm probably reanimating this episode because f everyone, f clover works producers, I hope they get the profit they're so desperately punishing us for cus maybe, just maybe, they might start thinking about preserving the aesthetic of their projects more than their fancy heating toilets

[cynthiav06]

Annabeth stans and Percabeth shippers are talking about how ooc Annabeth is in WOTTG with her thinking Percy is stupid as if she hasn't constantly made fun of Percy's intelligence since the very beginning. As if she doesn't do it in every book, multiple times. Rick's characterization of Annabeth isn't changing, people are finally just growing up and realizing their fave ship when they were 12 isn't healthy. But instead of actually acknowledging that it's a bad ship they just blame the author.

Warnings: This is going to be a rant; bear with me. People from the "take everything as a personal offense" group stop reading. Will give us both the luxury of a peaceful mind.

It's easier to blame Rick, I think, given his series of shit decisions. The Wrath of a Triple Goddess is a complete abomination, and so is Chalice of the Gods in many ways. But at least it has helped readers understand the glaring flaws of Percabeth as a ship. How Percy's character is butchered to hype up Annabeth.

And I am completely exhausted of trying to get any of them to think rationally and in an unbiased manner. I can't make a willfully blind individual see sense after all.

But yeah, Annabeth has many, and I mean many character flaws throughout the series. The number of times I have made a post on Annabeth's flaws or even why Percabeth is incompatible.... At this point, I believe open-minded and careful readers are going to see and make their own conclusions, and the blind shippers will keep doing their own thing. This , I think, was my most recent post and will probably be one of my last ones on a similar topic. Unless I get newer asks that have some different viewpoints that I can actually explore cause, all has been said so far, I think.

I had a feeling that things would get better as they got older, more mature, you know, an Annabeth character arc of some sort. Maybe exploring the positive and negative nuances of Percabeth or even Percy's suicidal thoughts, non existent self esteem and how Annabeth has been unknowingly feeding into those.

She is one of the more iconic characters to people even outside the fandom. One from a very, very , and exclusive pool of actually strong female characters and the way her character is devolving isn't helping anything.

-------------------------------------------------------

All of Riordan's characters have such high potential, and the amount of plots he could explore is staggering, and yet he still dishes out the same generic plot again and again. He is in it for the money now, has been for a while, and so there's no hope there.

This might be a very hot take, but I think romance ruined the series. Rick kept slapping romantic relationships on every character as if that would suddenly make things better. Give them a relationship rather than explore their trauma. I guess it's the easier of the two.

But seriously, Caleo? Jiper? Solangelo ? (I can see the hate comments already). Whatever he was doing with Reyna, but at least she wasn't completely butchered.

Rick's problem is that he keeps giving more importance to romantic relationships and makes that the entire personality of a character.

He butchered Percy, even Jason at times, Leo bloody Valdez and Nico more prominently.

The way Percy and Nico's very deep and volatile bond and heavily dynamic relationship was butchered and distorted to feed into Solangelo and Percabeth, and I can't possibly understate how highly that's been going on.

Then Luke and Thalia's relationship was completely butchered for no absolute reason. I have no idea why. They were in love or at least had romantic feelings for each other, and Thalia just woke up and wanted to kill him? He literally gave all the angst to Annabeth even though Thalia had known him longer, and they had a more nuanced bond.

Jason's relationship with Camp Jupiter individuals was completely scrapped, his and Reyna's dynamic completely watered down, or even his and Leo's great friendship discarded all for Jiper or whatever else was shoved at him.

-------------------------------------------------------

As opposed to this whole shit show, I loved the relationships in the Magnus Chase series and Kane Chronicles. That was good stuff. Both character relationships and romantic ones even though I am pretty sure he got a lot of diverse representation wrong or so I have read recently.

Then there's the stupid, blind, bigot part of the fandom that just can't help themselves. I mean dumb Percy takes, Annabeth stans ruining Percy's character arcs and overinflating Annabeth's character, which in turn made Rick do the same.Then the boring Jason thing? What the hell was that? It's like everyone missed the point of why Jason is the way he is. I am going to make a post on that soon, but seriously, the shit that's been going on.

Then the shippers. Solangelo stans and Percabeth stans. They have single handedly ruined the ships for me with their distorted ideas of character dynamics. And their blatant and brutal hate against other Percy or Nico ships is just ridiculous and heavily toxic.

It's a fandom, not a monopoly. Everyone can have their own little thing as long as you don't meddle in someone else's own thing. Let everyone enjoy their own thing.

And for all our sakes, at this point, just pick your own version of canon. Choose which books to stop at. Trust me, it's less frustrating that way.

[dazeddoodles]

More of the Encanto Owl House Au

For this Au, I think Bruno is similar to Eda. Originally he and his sisters trained to join the Emperor’s Coven, but then he realized that the Coven system is wrong for only letting witches study one type of magic. So he runs away and becomes a “Wild Witch” and becomes an outcast to the town and the rest of the family.

But he’s not like a cool criminal or anything, he's powerful but everyone just makes him sound like he’s more dangerous than he actually is. In reality, he literally just wants to be left alone to study all types of magic.

Alma would be in the Abomination Coven and put pressure on her children, and later on her grandchildren, to be accepted into The Emperor’s Coven. Bruno was the only one who came close before he disappeared.

Mirabel begins to wonder why she can’t study multiple types of magic. But when she brings this up to her family, they discourage the idea because “That’s what Bruno said before he ran away”. Which only makes her more curious to find out the truth about her missing uncle...

[doktorblitz]

Ambessa Medarda were-shifter/cursed into an animal form Head canons

Hello all, this idea came from talking with a friend of mine, @joalacandra initially and then also with lots of encouragement from @moodient so lots of thanks to both.

I have this curiosity about what a person would be like without the filtered/masked BS us humans do, so I always kinda wonder what my fav characters would be like as animals.

I feel like there's so much potential for what would be emphasized of their traits, versus what would be the same and what would be completely different.

Side note: written as gender neutral reader format for my Saphic girlies's enjoyment, but in my heart of hearts it's Miguel/Local cuisine cuddling big ol beast Bessa who's nuzzling him and being very protective.

Head canons only because I have not nearly enough energy for an actual fic at the moment.

So that's where the idea came from as to how it happens read on.

Also on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65856343

I could see it happening one of 2 ways, one would be a failed Hextech experiment, seeing as Viktor got straight up turned into an Eldritch abomination it isn't that weird.

But the more likely that I'm seeing would be the 2nd, let's say Black rose decides instead of killing her outright, to fuck with Ambessa and make her life miserable a bit longer.

So maybe during that meeting with Amara the merchant guild representative, instead of just death gurgling threats, she said an incantation instead before she died.

Something something revealing your true self something, basically the old "cursed to be your spirit animal self until x thing happens" trope.

Or she could be a were shifter, bitten by another shifter so she ended up turning every full moon/under strong emotional strain.

Whatever the case, that's the how, and as to what she would be, I can think of 2 things.

-One would be the literal translation of her name, which is lion/lioness, and oh boy, the brown/gold eyes and the protective nature definitely would serve that. Not to mention the predatory hunter instincts she has, pinpointing her enemy's weakness in the blink of an eye.

-the other just as likely would be a wolf/wolf dog hybrid, the more wolf content the better. again the protective nature of the Pack, but also the hunting instincts and the possessive nature over family/mates.

So with that world building out of the way, animal Ambessa is very much like human Ambessa but with no fucks given for social norms and no filter as to how she feels about the world:

-how do you clock it's her? she has marks in her fur, on her arms/shoulders/back, just like her scars, probably in some shade of red.

-she's very protective of reader, to the point of tagging along everywhere. you wanna take a shower? she's gonna be guarding yo ass, not so much to perv, but because she is worried another alpha or predator will come to steal you away or threaten you.

-she's like the dog that thinks any stranger approaching it wants to steal its bone, with anyone but reader she's a bit aggressive/defensive. taking her for a walk is a task and a half, but on the plus side she likes or at least tolerates baths lol.

-she's very cuddly to the point that you don't need a pillow and/or a blanket, she's gonna be your (not so) human radiator. she runs pretty hot as an animal and is very clingy, so she's gonna be your blanket from now on.

-she's very big on scent marking, funnily enough both lions and wolves use that, wolves even use it so each Pack member can find their way back to the Pack. so lots of rubbing up on you and or nuzzling your legs/chest/hair, or staying tightly wrapped up to you when you sleep to keep her scent on you. and vice versa of course, don't be surprised if you find her lounging on one of your old shirts/blankets.

-she likes or tolerates baths and has specific scents she likes, she'll even point her snout to the one she wants. she can't bathe with just any ol soap, even animal Bessa has standards, you heathen.

-I'd imagine it makes it easier for her to comfort you in some cases, I always head-canon that her love language is acts of service and also physical touch. she's not so much the talking it out type, more so she listens and hums and strokes your hair etc, so being in animal form means no need to talk and the best form to snuggle and comfort you. she'll huff out a breath or chuff or growl in a low, more purring tone to say she's listening, but let you talk otherwise.

-I'd imagine in a genuinely dangerous situation one of the best weapons to have is a big fuck off lioness or wolfdog, already snarling and promising lots of pain to anyone wanting to harm you, even more so when someone actually does want to harm you, she's gonna bite and pounce and growl and look very fierce. not to mention anyone who continues despite seeing her big bad teeth and claws and muscles clearly has a death wish.

-contrast that with how she then goes to you, to make sure you're ok, and nuzzles at you to check for injuries and sniffs you to check you aren't bleeding etc.

-she'd probably be glued to you after a dangerous situation, you're not escaping her gaze for a moment, mostly because having already lost one cub (Kino) she's not looking to lose another.

-in that sense it's kinda funny, she sees you as a combination of cub, in how small and weak you are compared to her, and her Mate that she will do anything to impress and keep happy, she absolutely would bring you gifts like a cat taking care of it's human.

-another aspect of this is that, if it is for example a case that she got bitten and she's turning frequently and already comfortable with herself as an animal, she'll probably spend a third of her time in animal form and get very familiar with your routine. don't be surprised if you see a big ol wolf guarding you while you walk from home or jog through the woods. maybe even scaring away any dangerous critters in your path ahead of time.

-if you're injured or feeling unwell, expect her to dote, she's gonna be right there watching you like a hawk, and god forbid any friends want to hug you longer than a second, shes gonna butt in and sit you back down on the bed and keep you there with her snout on your chest/lap.

-in that vein I think she's very aware how she behaves in animal form after, she recalls exactly what you did and what she did, and you can't embarrass her with any of it, because she has no fucks to give. far as she's concerned she's protecting her Mate and providing for you, any and all instinctive behaviors as an animal are justified.

-I also think she'd be more quick to apologize in animal form, she immediately scents that you're hurt or annoyed or scared or whatever and is quick to nuzzle and whine and endear herself to you again. way harder to get her to admit she did anything wrong as a human.

Bonus scene, imagine poor surprised reader, who knows their lover in human form only, is walking past the woods outside town and suddenly sees this big fuck off wolf watching with amber eyes shiny in the dark. it's not attacking but it's definitely eyeing you up. you run, you think you're doomed when you hear it catching up......but then when you're on the ground, it just bumps your hand/chest curiously, smells you for a good minute, then goes all kitty/puppy mode and starts to nuzzle and whine and grumble.

PS - Fun fact, wolves grumble cause they can't bark, so she's grumbling and rumbling like a big grumpy puppy, and being adorable. Go watch the channel Liondad_1987 aka james on youtube, so many cute wolves vids!

Anyway, hope you enjoy, this is more a way to unwind after a hella long week I've had and I hope y'all got your daily dose of sugar from my lil post.