#go to heaven for the climate

[postersbykeith]

[gxlden-angels]

Doomsday Cult Christians when the Doomsday Cult ideology causes Doomsday anxiety in their kids:

[dooblez]

what if someone coloured the pyrrhia and pantala maps with Köppen-Geiger climate classification colours. would that be crazy or what hahaha

[thelooniemoonie]

nothing really puts you in the manic despair zone like the smoke from the local wildfires coming back

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

my own personal thoughts abt this au aside (I have Cassiel in a VERY different Good Omens AU Ship)

DID YOU WATCH WINGS OF DESIRE AND/OR FARAWAY SO CLOSE

bc that design looks PRETTY SIMILAR

Cassiel: Perhaps a certain demon could be pulled away from his book for a small dance and overheard gossip from topside?

Azriel: Ohh, that sounds quite tempting coming from an angel.

Introducing Azriel, a quiet, smooth talking, book loving demon with an inability to keep a single plant alive, and Cassiel, an angel who owns a vinyl shop with a garden out the back. 💖🥺💖

IT ONLY TOOK ME 3 YEARS TO MAKE MY OWN REVERSE OMENS BOYS 🤣💖 Happy belated GO day!

[homunculus-argument]

Worldbuilding idea: Different cultures with climate overlap should have different cultural associations to the same animals. Like one culture looks at a specific kind of a migratory bird like "these birds are the divine messengers of the Gods, they are more intelligent than humans, as they have souls like we do but they are free of sin. They only visit us in the summer because they spend the winter in Heaven :)"

And on the other end of the birds' range the people are like "these feathered little bastards are too smart for their own good, can and will eat your trash. Some say they taste great when fried with scallions, but I wouldn't eat them after seeing what they eat. They always disappear for rainy season - nobody knows where they go but at least they are gone."

[tadpolesonalgae]

Lost In Paradise

Azriel x reader

a/n: I don’t know what the fuck overcame me when writing this—heads up they’re in the Day Court, by the way

Warnings: dear gods Azriel, Azriel in jewellery—diamond piercings to be precise, with kohl lined/smudged eyes, biting, oral (f receiving), smut, overstim, Azzie being a bit mischievous—implied orgasm denial, light wing play, light breeding kink

word count: 3,009

“We have a dinner to go to, Az,” you insist, inclining your chin as he noses along your throat, broad palms running slowly, reverently, up and down the bare skin of your back. Calloused and scarred hands rasping against the smooth, shimmery expanse of your skin, fingers touching along the knuckles of your spine.

“You’re a three course meal all on your own, pretty thing,” he murmurs beside the shell of your ear, gripping your waist lightly, letting his touch span across the sheer silk of your dress, marvelling at your feel, your shape beneath his hands—how finely you fit with him. 

Your pulse spikes at the flattery, heart beating quick in your chest, head tipping back as his lips press firmly to the small notch in your throat, kissing down to your collar bones, keeping you tight to his front, grip firm and unrelenting. “We’re guests,” you try faintly, already lost in his heaven, “it would be bad etiquette to not show up to the first meal—Az…!”

In one smooth motion he’s swept you off your feet, guiding your legs around his waist, thighs squeezing his hips while his palms appreciatively support your ass. “Bad etiquette would be not eating you out before I fuck you,” he drawls atop your mouth, a cocky smirk on his softened lips, staring down at you with his kohl-smudged eyes, diamonds swinging from his ears, the gold fastenings gleaming in the burning yellow sunset, setting the ocean on fire with molten metal as the sun melts atop the glistening waves. 

“Bad etiquette would be wasting a perfectly romantic evening for the sake of one measly dinner that we aren’t even required to attend,” he murmurs, that smug, self-satisfied look in his shining hazel eyes, flecks of amber and jade set alight through the refraction of the setting sun. Gleaming and swirling like they’re precious stones infinitely more valuable than even the tiny, glittering diamonds making up the jewellery adorning his marvellously handsome features. 

“You look good in Day Court attire,” you mumble breathlessly, clinging onto him as he walks you out onto the balcony, laying you down atop the pillowy, padded massage table, creamy fabric turned a perfectly-baked, golden-brown in the evening light, fitted over the cushions.

“You like how much skin it shows,” he drawls, palms settling either side of you, your hair splayed out from where he’s set you, strewn in lustrous glory against the pillow. “You like how easy it is to manoeuvre around.” 

Sure enough, with the soaring temperatures during a sun-filled day, with heat beating down upon the marble-carved pillars, the attire is perfectly suited for the arid climate. Clothing comes in light colours—mostly cream or off-white—and it contrasts the colour of his skin perfectly. The flush on his cheeks despite the cocky look highlights the hunger delightfully. And thanks to the opulent nature of the Court itself, it gives reason for your mate to wear some of the piercings he rarely adorns himself in for the sake of practicality. The ones you love—his ears the main focus, but with wandering hands your fingers clutch the hem of pale, heated linen, raising it from his toned stomach to reveal the incredibly self-indulgent piercing he’d gotten for his belly button, white diamonds set around the narrow golden band. 

“Gods you’re edible,” you pant, the shallow breaths having little to do with the heated evening and more to do with the hot and hungry look he’s pinning you with as he pulls the troublesome shirt off and over his head. His wings flexing and flaring now they’re rid of the fabric brushing the base of the great limbs. Showing off his well-endowed magnificence, as he should.

“Feel better about skipping that dinner now, pretty thing?” Azriel asks roughly, fingers catching the hem of your dress and swiftly pulling it out from under you, pushing it away further along the pale, padded table. “Maybe you had a point about my bad etiquette,” he drawls hotly, open palm coasting up your stomach, fingers grazing between your breasts. He leans over, dark silky hair flopping across your brow, kohl-rimmed eyes making the hazel of his irises simmer with the ravenous intensity of the setting sun, setting you ablaze. “I’ll be eating first.” 

“How brash,” you breathe, fingers dancing up the bare muscle of his upper arms, nails squeezing lightly at his shoulders, raking teasingly over his gloriously powerful back. He begins laying kisses to your collar bones, teeth nipping at your shimmering skin—you’d spent some time refreshing and making use of the scented, swirling lotions available—slowly trailing down between your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipples teasingly. “Weren’t you ever told not to play with your food?” 

“How can I resist when there’s such a beautiful meal before me? Taste is important but it’s more than that, wouldn’t you say?” Fingers hook beneath the golden strings at your hips, guiding them down your thighs as his mouth trails lower, kissing down your stomach. “I need to appreciate all of you. Not just with my mouth, but with my skin, and touch. How can I enjoy you without indulging all my senses?”

“All of them?” You question, back arching as he reaches your abdomen, fingers threading through his hair to encourage him closer. 

Azriel laughs, the sound coming from deep in his chest, splashing over your skin like melted butter and honey, bathing you in arousing sweetness. “All of them,” he whispers. 

“Sight.” Dark rimmed eyes flick upwards, licking over your form as he connects with you, lashes thick and heavy atop his gaze—equally heavy. 

“Smell.” He noses the intimate skin of your inner thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he parts your legs to make room for himself, your ass resting just at the edge of the cushioned table.

“Touch.” Fingers slip between your parted thighs, trailing up and down your centre, slicking himself in your wetness. Circling your clit twice before dipping back down. 

“Sound.” His thick digits slide in, a cocky smirk on his mouth as he curls them causing your back to arch, beckoning you forward, a heady moan spilling from your mouth as he pushes deeper, rubbing against spots he knows you like. 

“Would you like to tell me the fifth one?” Azriel drawls, dangerously low, arousal thickening his tone to something dark and syrupy. 

“Taste…” You breathe desperately. “Taste…Azriel!” 

“Good girl.” His lips curve in a sinful grin, diamonds twinkling their mirth as he lowers himself to your cunt. “You’ve earned it.” 

A rich, heady moan spills from your mouth as his tongue flattens over your clit, fingers working you with heavenly ease while his mouth remains at the apex of your thighs. It’s nothing short of paradise, floating high above in the clouds, nestled in a pillowy cushion as he bathes you in pleasure, rubbing it into you in ways that shouldn’t be permitted—how can something so good exist on this plane of reality?

Your head tips back into the cushioning, moans rising from your chest unabashedly, singing your pleasure with every curl of his fingers, every lovely flick of his tongue. The high approaches far faster than you ever would have expected, spine arching, grinding down on his mouth, hips swirling as he suckles at your clit, able to feel the impending high as your muscles brace for the powerful onslaught. 

You cry out as you come, nails raking through his hair, his wings flaring with male satisfaction as you orgasm, feeling you tighten and flutter around his thick fingers, clit pulsing as pleasure rapidly fires through your body, racing up and throughout your skin, spreading right to your fingertips. Your mouth opens as sound fails you, eyes squeezing shut, Azriel’s rough palms gripping your hips tight as you begin to squirm and writhe, seeking to crawl away from the pleasure—but he likes seeing you like this, and won’t allow it to end anywhere near prematurely. 

His forearm bands across your hips, pinning them down as you try to buck upward, forcing you through the aftershocks that have your body trembling, strength draining, leaving you powerless to resist his dominating touch. Azriel’s relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure, keeping his fingers tucked inside of you, keeping the pace, keeping his tongue swirling around your hardened clit, dragging it between his lips when he feels you coming down and teasingly tugging on it with his teeth.

A lovely whimper graces his ears, mouth parting into a wicked grin as you muster the strength to look down at him, your legs spread with slick gleaming on his lips, threading between your inner thighs where he’s gotten you especially messy. 

“Ready for the main course?” He drawls, your nipples peaking at the rough, rolling timbre of his voice, skin prickling as awareness sweeps through you. “Main course?” You pant, already falling out of it, unable to grasp what he’s referring to with that wicked smile as he stands, wings looming over his shoulders. Shadows pull the band of his loose, pale linen trousers from their already low placement on his hips, allowing his hands to settle either side of your waist as he presses flush to your messy heat. 

“Both of us,” he whispers, leaning down atop your mouth, “together?”

You think your eyes roll slightly at the reminder, nails threading through his inky hair as you pull him into a hot kiss, thighs wrapping snugly around his hips. His cock rests hot and heavy against your cunt, slowly riding back and forth to coat himself thoroughly, before aligning his tip with your entrance. 

“Go slowly,” you beg, clutching onto him with anticipation—you’re far to sensitive for any of his rough treatment. But he smirks over your lips, hips drawing back so his tip drags down over your hardened clit, his leaking cock nudging the entrance of your drooling cunt, messy and sloppy from previous attention—about to be made much messier. 

“Go slowly?” He muses, a low laugh in his voice that makes your skin prickle, hairs standing on end. “You’re perfectly warmed up, aren’t you? All ready and pliable, huh? What could you possibly want me to go slowly for?” You flush deeply, hands twining together over his broad shoulders, trying to push as much sternness into your gaze as you can manage—which isn’t much, judging by the way he chuckles. 

“Is my girl too sensitive?” 

That smirk. That sinful fucking smirk. 

“Whatever you do to me I’ll be delivering right back,” you warn, thighs squeezing his hips. “I’m getting you in my mouth after this, remember…” 

“How could I forget?” He groans, hips pushing forward. “Gonna taste both of us.” 

A pleased moan sighs from your lips as he fills you up, gripping one leg to bring it up his chest—the underside of your thigh pressing to his lower stomach as he pushes tight against you. Azriel’s gaze is nothing short of ravenous as he takes in the arch of your spine as his palm splays across your abdomen, applying a slight pressure to really get you to feel him. 

“Like that?” He asks, short on breath. Mouth curved in that smug grin. So self-satisfied. “Look at you,” he coos, shifting his hips, dragging them back so his head is again at your entrance, before pushing his cock all the way back inside. “So hot and flushed. All of this for me?” His thumb swipes across your clit, and you moan helplessly, tossing your head to the side as your eyes squeeze shut, nails scraping over the cushioning. 

Before you can formulate a reply he’s setting his pace, giving deep, almost punishing thrusts of his hips that roll firmly to your own. Sharp and decisive, just as you like, spine arching with every buck. 

“Can you even count to three right now?” He taunts, shadows swirling over your breasts, teasingly playing with your nipples, curling around them and tugging lightly. You try to shoot him a glare—that side of him has been coming out more frequently as of late, and you really don’t want to deal with his mean streak right now. Not on such a perfectly set up evening for romance and intimacy. 

So you extend your arms toward him, fingers opening and closing as if to grasp onto him. “Azriel…” you moan, reaching. His hips buck sharply of their own accord, swearing you could feel him twitch from pleasure—he might enjoy being mean from time to time, but it’s all for getting you nice and needy. He’s an undeniable soft spot for your desperation. Like putty in your hands once you reach for him, your toes curling from pleasure.  

“Fuck,” he curses low under his breath, driving his cock firmly into you as his palms splay either side of you, letting you touch and feel all over him, practically shivering with the greed in your fingers as they explore and grope. “Such a sweet little thing to everyone else, aren’t you? Such a wicked little devil when you’re with me.” 

Teeth tug on your lower lip as you try to keep your smile to yourself, but you fail miserably, smiling wide as your head tips back into the pillow, relishing the pleasure. “Wicked devil?” You moan out, forcing yourself to meet simmering hazel, heat sizzling just beneath your skin, clit itching for release as his abdomen grazes the apex of your thighs. 

“Like this?” 

A startled noise slips from his lips as you reach further over his shoulders, stroking his wings slowly. Teasing out his pleasure to have him playing nice with yours. His forehead drops to your own, brows pressing together, close enough to share panting breaths, your breasts grazing his chest with each heaving inhale. 

His lips part on an unabashed groan that licks up your spine, pooling between your legs at his deep confessions to pleasure, repeating the slow strokes to his wings. 

“Like that,” he confirms, jaw wound tight as he tries to cope with the overwhelming onslaught of stimulation. Hazel eyes warily open, a sharp glint in them as his instincts snarl and grapple with reasoning, but you want him to yield to them, not fight them. 

It seems he gets the message. 

Azriel’s palms snatch at your wrists, slamming them down on the cushioned table to keep you pinned, forcing you to take every brutal buck of his hips and you can feel as both of you swoop for that high that’s rising. His wings flare wide, their total span easily twice his height, casting a dark, dominating shadow that you know is an instinctive show of possession. 

Shadows wrap beneath the arch of your spine, clutching your hips to raise them from the table, and the angle has you going dizzy. Moans spill and babble as he pounds into you, grip remaining tight on your wrists to keep them trapped, driving in and out relentlessly until you think you might have screamed from overstimulation, panting and out of breath when you return to reality beneath him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls against your skin, teeth scraping the tender length of your throat, searching for a spot to choose, to bite down on. He picks a section, pushing his teeth in, licking and sucking to push a feverish kiss into your skin, only pulling away once he’s satisfied. 

“Az,” you whine, cupping his cheeks in your hands, squeezing lightly as you arch into him. “It’s my turn.” 

“Your turn?” His hand wraps around your wrist, nosing the centre of your palm, pressing a kiss to its heel, delivering a small lick that zaps straight to your clit. His hips pull away, then push back in, able to feel as his cum begins seeping out of you. “You’ve hardly taken any of it, pretty thing. You need to be full up before moving onto me. Can’t have you going on empty, hm?” 

“Azriel!” You yelp as he rolls his hips to yours more firmly, bucking against you with enough force to nudge you further up the table. “That isn’t fair,” you squawk indignantly.

“My sweet little devil’s going to tell me what’s fair now, is she?” 

His lips curve into that smirk, and your willpower crumbles, legs wrapping themselves tighter around his waist to press him deeper. Azriel’s subsequent laugh reignites arousal in the pit of your stomach, tightening around his cock, urging him to follow through with his taunts. “Do it,” you whisper, “hurry up.” 

“You wanted me to go slowly earlier. I said you needed to be filled up, not that you needed to come.” 

“Azriel!” You gasp when he pulls out entirely, flipping you onto your front so you’re bent over for him, arms forcefully dragged behind your back to give him full control. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to me,” he muses, lining himself up. “But the evening’s too good to waste, don’t you agree? It would be a shame to have it over and done with so quickly.” 

“And you called me the devil,” you mumble into the cushioning, squirming lightly beneath him to feel the unrelenting strength of his grip. “You’re going to cry when I get my mouth on you.” 

He chuckles again, shackling your forearms to the base of your spine with his shadows, rough palms easily gripping your hips. “It’s adorable you think you’re going to make it through that far. We both know you’ve never managed.” 

Azriel leans over you, cock slowly sliding in as he settles at your back. You can feel his lips against your ear, breath fanning the sensitive expanse of your neck. “I’d tell you to hold on tight, princess, but you can’t even manage that most nights. So tonight all you need to do is lie still, and take it.” 

His palm slides beneath your jaw, raising you from the cushioning, a mocking note to his deep and honeyed voice. “How does that sound?” 

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[greynin]

0

I'm a 'get some sense' climate and BLM activist, enchanté.

[wilwheaton]

fuck you pat robertson

Pat Robertson walks past thousands of souls, smugly and full of pride, and cuts to the front of the line at the velvet rope in outside the entrance to his version of Heaven.

The bouncer looks up from their clipboard, observing Robertson with thousands of eyes in a swirling cascade of light.

"Pat Robertson," they say. "We've been expecting you."

Pat Robertson silently congratulates himself. He swells with joy. All those people who died from AIDS, natural disasters, even 9/11 ... they all deserved it. They were sinners!

The bouncer speaks into their headset. "He's here." They listen. "Yep. At the front of the line."

The bouncer turns most of its gaze back to Pat Robertson. "Just wait here for one moment, please."

Pat Robertson steps to one side and waits.

After one thousand years, he begins to wonder if there was a miscommunication.

"Excuse me," he says to the bouncer, "I am Pat --"

"Robertson. Yes. We know. We're just getting everything in order for you. It will just be one more moment."

Tens of thousands of victims of gun violence walk past him and enter Heaven. The population of an entire village, lost in a typhoon that was intensified by climate change, is welcomed. And still he waits.

They file past him, all the people he looked down on. All the people he hurt, directly and indirectly, don't even notice him as they pass. It's like he isn't even there.

Another thousand years pass. Pat Robertson realizes he hasn't had a thing to eat since he died and he is so very hungry.

"Hey!" He shouts at the bouncer. "What's the problem? Don't you know who I am?"

The bouncer rolls half a million eyes at once. "We know exactly who you are."

"Well, alright, then!" Pat Robertson spits out, exasperated, "if you aren't going to help me, get someone here who will!"

The bouncer speaks into its headset again. "We're ready."

A gibbering mass of what is mostly human flesh -- or was, once -- slithers / rolls / flops into Pat Robertson's view. It is covered with mouths that bleed and weep and click their teeth together. Enormous open sores swirl and burst and close and reopen and drip pus and viscera across blistering skin. The faint memory of a smell surrounds it, something like very old cigar smoke and very expensive liquor.

Pat Robertson tries to scream. Arm-like stalks extend from the quivering shape. One resembles a hand at the end of an arm, dripping viscera.

In a flash, it grabs Pat Robertson's hand and shakes it. Something hot and acidic splashes up on his arm, blinds him in one eye. He feels weak. Afraid. Alone. Confused.

Hundreds of mouths try to speak. Dozens of them vomit acrid bile that splashes across his chest. Dozens more silently spit out the lies they've been cursed to repeat for eternity to an audience who will never hear them again.

One mouth speaks clearly. So clearly, it's inside Pat Robertson's head and everywhere else all at once. "I'm Rush Limbaugh," it says. "I'm your new roommate. Come with me."

And that's when Pat Robertson knows. That's when it all hits him, all at once. He's getting everything he deserves.

The line to get into Heaven does not see or hear or notice him, or the Limbeast. They can't hurt anyone, anymore.

The cancerous mass of hate wraps its arm around his shoulder and just like that Pat Robertson finds himself in a vast parody of a cathedral. It's built of bones and flesh and lies. The walls writhe, and he sees that they are not bricks and lathe but bodies wrapped in confederate flags and wearing red hats.

The pews are filled to capacity with the souls of people who followed him in life, hated who he told them to hate. Only their hate is now focused on him, hot and unforgiving. Relentless.

Pat Robertson looks for his companion, but it has vanished. It has left him alone to suffer.

A sermon rises in his chest and pushes against his throat. Pat Robertson is compelled to speak, and as he does each word tears through him like broken glass. He spews his hate and his lies, just as he did in life. Only in this place, he doesn't feel the glee and the satisfaction he always did. No, he feels the pain and the suffering and the agony of every human being who he deliberately hurt. He. Feels. All. Of. It. He tries to stop speaking. Of course, he can not. He can not ever stop.

And Pat Robertson's eternity begins.

[harleehazbinfics]

A tainted dove.

hazbin hotel x devout!reader devout series

Note: i could expand this more but lmao it's already long as it is. react down below if you wanna see more!

You lived as a sister for the church in your past life. You always followed the rules, devoted yourself to praying and doing charity work. You enjoyed that kind of life that just helped people and feel appreciated for your services.

However, most people in the convent didn't seem pleased with you being such a "goodie two shoes" and "outshining" the other sisters, by things holy, even the Father seemed to dislike how well liked you were in the community that he sent you off to a far and remote place.

There was no electricity, a scheduled running water system and there was very little livestock from the extreme climate that most animals die before they reach their first spring. There was only one other person there in the church as well, he was a Father that helped and did services for this small community. He was too old and frail to do tasks outside the community but he had to do it since be was the only one that the people here could depend on.

You could see how extremely happy he was when he found you at his doorstep lending a hand in his mission.

You lived peacefully there with the Father and the villagers, attending mass, helping cultivate the land by going to the next town that you had to travel on foot to get to with how remote the terrain was, and just generally trying to make everyone be happy despite the unfortunate circumstances.

However, men came and destroyed the village, setting it ablaze. You hurriedly evacuated the people to hide and take them to the nearest village for help.

Unfortunately, you were caught and imprisoned by these men, and were defiled as you died by your injuries to resist them, ending futile.

•°•°•°•°

When you sat and looked at the crimson sky your broken wing made it unable for you to fly feeling very detached from yourself.

You did everything they asked, you became a very good sister until your dying breath only to end up here. Were you fed lies? Or, was this the fate you were already dealt?

Collapsing from the stress, you failed to notice a figure flying towards you, scooping you up and leaving with you to his castle.

When you finally woke up, you felt your wings be in better shape. You gave them a stretch holding them in your hands as you inspected them. They were red on the top and white underneath with gray swirls as a touch.

You were startled when you saw a blond male in a white suit and hat come to you. He gave you some soup with a wry smile.

You accepted his kind help feeling indebted to him for being the only generous person that you ever crossed paths with while being here in hell for a good while.

He introduced himself as the ruler of hell, Lucifer himself. This fact obviously shocked you. Lucifer was this short, dorky, kind man? It was quite hard to believe from all the scriptures you've read while you were alive.

He explains his backstory which you found quite pitiful and explained how he was surprised to find your existence here in hell when you should've been in heaven.

He promises to make things right with you, so he takes it upon himself to call his daughter, Charlie to help you. While he tries to deal with it.

When you get to the hotel, you were enamoured by the passion that Charlie had for her cause and felt like you needed to help her.

So, you worked with them for a month getting accustomed to life here. It was actually quite delightful being genuine friends with them. They often talked to you when they felt lost or frustrated or lost touch of themselves and their emotions. You didn't mind it, it was your life's work after all.

After getting closer and closer to everyone, Lucifer comes back and tells you that Heaven doesn't acknowledge the mistake that they made and that you were to stay here for the rest of eternity.

This deeply saddened you but you touched Lucifer's shoulder and smiled.

"Thank you for trying, Lucifer. It's fine! I've actually made friends here. And since you're here, why not join us? We're celebrating Angie's birthday!"

He smiled comforted as you walked with him to the banquet table served with various dishes.

The night ends happily. Despite being unhappy and failing to connect with other people to create deeper relationships on Earth. You felt more at peace here with these sinners than you've ever felt before.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Happy Ever After

Anon: Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Song: Love Story by Indila

Author’s note: Hey anon! I'm not used to the story of Romeo and Juliet so please bear with me! Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 8.6k

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Aragonia, nestled between towering mountains and winding rivers, lay a land of unparalleled beauty and prosperity. The kingdom was a tapestry of lush, verdant landscapes, where rolling hills were adorned with wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze.

Majestic castles, their spires reaching towards the heavens, stood as a testament to the kingdom's rich history and the ingenuity of its people.

The citizens of Aragonia were a proud and industrious lot, known far and wide for their skilled craftsmanship and unwavering commitment to their community.

From the bustling marketplaces in the heart of the capital city to the quaint, charming villages that dotted the countryside, the people of Aragonia lived in harmony, their days filled with the laughter of children and the rhythmic hum of daily life.

At the center of this enchanting kingdom stood the grand palace, a sprawling edifice of gleaming marble and intricate stonework.

Here, the wise and benevolent ruler of Aragonia presided, guiding the kingdom with a steady hand and a deep understanding of the needs of his people.

Under the watchful eye of the monarch, Aragonia flourished, its reputation for prosperity and innovation spreading far beyond its borders, drawing in visitors from near and far who marveled at the beauty and wonder of this truly remarkable land.

Princess Y/N, known for your grace and beauty, was the eldest daughter of King Alfonso VII. You had inherited your father's intelligence and compassion, making you a beloved figure within the kingdom.

Prince Carlos, on the other hand, was the youngest son of King Ferdinand III. Despite his noble status, he possessed a rebellious spirit that drew him closer to the commoners.

King Alfonso and King Ferdinand were embroiled in a bitter feud that threatened to tear the kingdom apart. The two monarchs harbored deep-seated animosity towards one another, stemming from long-standing political and personal disputes.

This toxic rivalry manifested in a climate of tension and distrust, with the two men constantly vying for power and influence. The tension between them spilled over into their respective families, creating a rift that only served to exacerbate the already precarious situation within the kingdom.

As the conflict escalated, the people of the land found themselves caught in the crossfire, uncertain of their future and the stability of the realm. . . .

"Princess Y/N, are you ready for the party?" your servant asked you as you stared out of your oval-shaped window, revealing the endless sea and the docks.

"Yes Matilda, I am ready," you muttered.

You were not. You hated going to these parties that your father organized. The grand halls filled with nobility, the endless chatter about alliances and politics, and the constant pressure to present yourself as the perfect princess made you feel suffocated.

You'd rather stay here and watch the sea forever, losing yourself in the gentle rhythm of the waves and the distant calls of the seabirds.

As you reluctantly turned away from the window, you couldn't help but sigh. The ocean had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could dream of freedom and adventure far from the palace walls.

But duty called, and you knew you had to uphold your role, no matter how much it pained you.

Adjusting your gown, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for the evening ahead, wishing that one day you might find a way to escape the gilded cage that held you.

Your father expected you to charm the guests, forge new alliances, and perhaps even catch the eye of a suitable suitor. He had always emphasized the importance of these gatherings for the kingdom's future, and he relied on you to play your part perfectly.

Despite your own desires, you knew that failing to meet his expectations could have serious repercussions for both you and the realm.

The thought of potential suitors filled you with a mixture of dread and resignation. You longed for a partner who understood your love for the sea and your yearning for freedom, rather than someone who only saw you as a pawn in their political games.

Yet, you knew that such a romantic ideal was unlikely in your world, where alliances were forged not by love but by necessity. . . .

"Carlos! Are you sure this isn't going to get us into big trouble?" Mercutio whispered as the three of them pushed through the overgrown garden of the Alfonso family.

Carlos grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Relax, Mercutio. I've done this a dozen times before. The Alfonsos are too busy celebrating to notice a few extra guests," he replied confidently, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

"Besides, we blend in perfectly. Just act like you belong, and no one will question a thing."

Benvolio, trailing behind them, chimed in, "He's right, Mercutio. Remember last summer when we crashed the mayor's gala? We even got compliments on our outfits!" He adjusted his mask and smoothed his clothes, trying to muster up some of Carlos' bravado.

"Let's just have fun tonight. What's the worst that could happen?"

The garden was a labyrinth of lavishly manicured hedges and vibrant flowerbeds, with twinkling fairy lights strung overhead that cast a magical glow on the scene. Stone statues of mythical creatures peeked out from behind dense shrubbery, and a grand marble fountain stood at the center, its water sparkling like liquid diamonds.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine, adding an enchanting allure to the evening.

"Just blend in," Carlos finally whispered before slipping into the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Mercutio and Benvolio exchanged a quick glance, then followed suit, mingling seamlessly with the other revelers.

The sound of laughter and music enveloped them as they made their way toward the heart of the celebration, hoping their disguises would hold up under the scrutiny of the Alfonso family and their guests.

Carlos was dressed in an elegant black suit adorned with intricate gold embroidery, his mask a matching black with delicate filigree that framed his eyes.

Mercutio wore a deep blue velvet coat with silver accents, his mask resembling a Venetian masterpiece with feathers that added a touch of mystique.

Benvolio, opting for a more understated look, sported a dark green ensemble with subtle bronze details, his mask simple yet sophisticated, giving him an air of quiet confidence.

Carlos, Mercutio and Benvolio all arrived at the mansion, eager to have a good time. As they mingled with the guests, no one had any idea that they were from the rival Ferdinand family.

They blended in seamlessly, sipping drinks and chatting merrily, their true identities hidden from the unsuspecting crowd.

The three friends revelled in the freedom of being anonymous at the party. They could let their guard down and truly enjoy themselves, without the constant tension and rivalry that existed between their family and the Alfonso.

For once, they were able to forget the long-standing feud and simply live in the moment, dancing and laughing without a care in the world. . . .

"Everyone! Please give your full attention to King Alfonso and his daughter, Princess Y/N who make their appearance tonight!" The announcer stated, catching everyone's attention and the room came to a silent halt.

The grand hall was adorned with opulent chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Rich tapestries depicting scenes of royal triumphs hung on the walls, and an orchestra played softly in the background, adding to the regal atmosphere.

At the top of the imperial staircase, a majestic red carpet led straight to the throne, where King Alfonso and Princess Y/N stood in their resplendent attire.

King Alfonso, a striking figure with a commanding presence, wore a robe of deep crimson velvet trimmed with gold embroidery. His crown, encrusted with precious gemstones, rested regally upon his silver hair, which added to his dignified look.

His piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with a mixture of authority and benevolence, and a jeweled scepter in his right hand glinted under the chandelier's light, symbolizing his unchallenged power and leadership.

Princess Y/N, standing gracefully beside him, was the epitome of elegance and poise. Your gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin in shades of royal blue, shimmered with every movement.

A tiara of diamonds and sapphires adorned your flowing locks, complementing your serene and captivating beauty.

Your eyes, a brilliant shade of green, radiated warmth and kindness as you acknowledged the gathered guests, while your calm demeanor and gentle smile hinted at the wisdom and strength that lay beneath your refined exterior.

Carlos and his friends were at the buffet, eagerly sampling the lavish spread of delicacies when the announcement echoed through the hall.

While his companions barely glanced up before returning to their plates, Carlos found himself captivated by the sight of you. Your graceful presence and ethereal beauty held him spellbound, making it impossible for him to look away.

The sparkle of your tiara and the gentle warmth in your eyes seemed to draw him in, as if you were the very embodiment of a fairy tale come to life.

As his friends continued their animated conversation about the best dishes at the buffet, Carlos remained rooted to his spot, his gaze fixed firmly on the princess.

He felt an inexplicable connection, a magnetic pull that made the noise and bustle around him fade into the background.

In that moment, nothing else mattered; all he could see was you, and all he could feel was the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you might notice him amidst the sea of faces.

The first dance came soon after the announcement, and Carlos knew it was the perfect chance to make his presence known. As the music started, couples began to fill the dance floor, but Carlos's eyes never left you.

Gathering his courage, he approached with a respectful bow, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, Princess?" he asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

You smiled warmly, recognizing the sincerity in his gaze, and placed your hand in his.

As you both moved gracefully to the rhythm, the world seemed to blur around you. Carlos felt a sense of belonging and purpose, each step affirming the connection he felt.

In your presence, the grandeur of the ballroom faded, leaving just the two of you, sharing a moment that neither would soon forget.

"What is your name?" you asked, your voice as melodious as the music enveloping the room. Carlos hesitated for a brief moment, the truth perched on the edge of his tongue.

"My name is Charles," he lied. A slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nervousness.

You tilted your head slightly, a curious glint in your eyes as you continued to dance. "Charles," you repeated, testing the name on your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, Charles, what brings you to our celebration tonight?"

Carlos swallowed hard, determined to maintain his composure. "I came with friends," he replied, gesturing subtly towards the buffet. "But now, I am grateful for this unexpected opportunity to dance with you, Princess."

Carlos and you danced gracefully before your father, the King. As the music came to an end, your father gave you a pointed look, signalling that it was time to separate and greet another potential suitor.

You leaned in to Carlos and whispered, "Meet me in the west garden in an hour."

Carlos' eyes widened momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'll be there," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You made your way through the throng of guests, exchanging pleasantries with the various noblemen and women who sought your attention. However, your mind was focused on the upcoming meeting with Carlos.

As the appointed hour approached, you slipped away from the main festivities and hurried to the west garden. Carlos was already there, waiting for you under the moonlit sky.

"You came," You said, relief evident in your voice.

"Of course," Carlos responded, taking your hands in his. "I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing you, even if it's just for a moment."

"Carlos, I... I don't know what to do. My father expects me to entertain these suitors, but that's not what my heart wants me to do."

Carlos squeezed your hands gently, his eyes searching yours. "Sometimes, we must follow our hearts, even if it means defying expectations," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

"I know it might be difficult, but you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who cherishes you for who you are, not just for your title."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your father's expectations and the longing in your heart. "But what if my father never approves? What if he forces me to marry someone else?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Carlos stepped closer, his grip on your hands firm and reassuring. "Then we'll find a way to be together, no matter the obstacles. Love is worth fighting for, Princess. And I promise, I will fight for you."

"But how, you've only met me today," you started, your voice tinged with skepticism.

"It's something called love at first sight, Princess," Carlos teased, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "From the moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. It's not just about the title or the expectations—it's about the connection we share, even in such a short time."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but doubt still lingered. "But what if this feeling fades? What if we regret defying everything for a chance that might not last?"

Carlos' expression grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering intensity. "Feelings like this don't fade easily, Princess. Genuine connections are rare and precious, and I believe ours is one of them. We owe it to ourselves to explore this, to give our hearts a chance to truly know if it's real."

"Okay," you replied shyly, a blush rising to your cheeks. No one has ever spoken to you like this before; it has always been about fulfilling duties and consummating the marriage.

Your entire life, you were taught that love was secondary to alliances and obligations, but Carlos' words stirred something deep within you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than duty.

Carlos' eyes softened as he noticed your hesitation. "This world we live in often binds us with chains of duty and tradition. But sometimes, those chains need to be broken for us to truly live. Let me prove to you that what we have is real. Let me show you a world where love and happiness aren't just dreams but possibilities."

His words carried a promise, a vow that resonated with the unspoken desires in your heart.

You nodded, unable to speak any more, tears welling up in your eyes. Carlos' hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, the simple gesture sending a shiver down your spine. His lips lingered for a moment, and you closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected comfort and reassurance his presence brought.

As he pulled back, his eyes never left yours, a silent promise passing between you.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing together against the backdrop of an uncertain future.

You took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength and determination blooming within you. With Carlos by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, confident that love, for once, would guide your path.

"Should your first job to court me be to kiss me on the lips?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. Carlos chuckled, the sound light and full of promise.

"If that is what the princess desires," he replied, his voice low and husky.

He leaned in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wished. But you didn't; instead, you found yourself closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if both of you were savoring the moment's significance. Then it deepened, becoming a silent conversation of shared hopes and unspoken dreams.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing, and you saw the same exhilaration mirrored in Carlos' eyes.

"Consider it the first of many," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because this is just the beginning of our journey together."

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a blend of excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. The kiss had unlocked a floodgate of feelings you had kept hidden for so long, and in that brief, magical moment, you felt truly seen and understood.

As you gazed into Carlos' eyes, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together, strengthened by the bond you had just forged.

"How will I communicate with you?" Carlos whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "We'll find a way," you replied, your voice steady with conviction. "Whether through letters, messages, or the silent understanding we share, we'll always be connected."

Carlos nodded, his eyes filled with trust and determination. "I believe in us," he said quietly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Princess Y/N! Where are you?" you heard your maid, Matilda, yell out your name, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and worry.

You turned towards the sound, your heart sinking slightly at the reminder of your duties and the world that awaited outside this intimate bubble.

"I think that's the sign to leave, but don't worry, I'll be here tomorrow," Carlos said, letting go of you reluctantly. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Promise?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"Promise," Carlos replied, his gaze unwavering.

With one last lingering look, you turned and began to walk towards Matilda's voice, feeling Carlos' eyes on you until you disappeared from view. . . .

"Matilda, you saw who I was with, am I right?" you asked, staring out of your window as the evening sun cast long shadows across the room.

"Yes, Princess," Matilda replied, her voice hesitant but clear.

"Do you recognize him?" you pressed, turning to face her, your curiosity mingling with a touch of apprehension.

Matilda nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. He is the youngest child of our rival, King Ferdinand's child, Prince Carlos."

A gasp escaped your lips, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion grip you. "Prince Carlos? But how... why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Matilda's eyes softened with understanding. "I didn't want to alarm you, Princess. I saw how happy you were. But you must be careful; our kingdoms have a complicated history."

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

If Prince Carlos had lied about his identity, how could you trust anything else he had said

The promise he made to you felt sincere at the time, but now, doubt gnawed at your heart. What if his intentions were not as pure as you had believed?

The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on your shoulders, and the once-clear path ahead now seemed clouded with uncertainty.

Yet, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in the connection you had felt with him. Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, there had been moments of genuine warmth and understanding in your conversations.

Could it be possible that he, too, wished for peace and a way to bridge the divide?

You knew you needed to tread carefully, but the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there could be more to his story than deceit kept a small flame of optimism alive within you.

Your heart ached with the weight of uncertainty. "Matilda, what should I do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Matilda stepped closer, her expression filled with empathy. "Princess, you must tread carefully. Confront Prince Carlos and seek the truth. But remember, matters of the heart are never simple, especially when they are entangled with the affairs of state. Trust your instincts, but also be prepared for whatever truths may come to light."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you—fear, hope, and a lingering sense of betrayal. Matilda's words echoed in your mind, urging you to confront Prince Carlos yet cautioning you to brace for the truth.

Your heart beat erratically, torn between the desire to uncover the reality and the dread of what that reality might reveal. . . .

"Good morning, Princess," you heard Carlos say as he emerged from behind a bush, his mask still on from yesterday.

You were in your garden, the same place where Carlos had left you last night. His presence startled you, but you quickly composed yourself, determined to face him.

"Carlos," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of his real name, betraying a flicker of vulnerability. "I see you know the truth," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"I need to know the full truth. Why did you hide your identity from me?"

His eyes flickered with a mixture of guilt and resolve as he stepped closer, the morning light casting shadows across his masked face.

"I never intended to deceive you," he said softly.

Slowly, with deliberate movements, Carlos reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face that was both strikingly handsome and etched with sorrow. Your breath hitched at the sight, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the chiseled features and the intense eyes that had once seemed so distant.

It was as if a barrier had been lifted between you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

"I feared that revealing my true identity would ruin the connection we had built. Our fathers have a long history of conflict, and I didn't want that to stand between us. But now, I realize that honesty is the only way forward. I hope you can understand and find it in your heart to trust me once more."

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. "Carlos, this isn't just about our fathers' past. It's about the trust between us, the foundation of any relationship," you said, your voice trembling slightly.

"You should have told me the truth from the beginning. How can I be sure there aren't other secrets you're hiding?"

Carlos looked down, his expression a mix of shame and determination. "I understand your hesitation, but I promise you, there are no more secrets. I want to build a future with you based on honesty and trust. Please, give me a chance to prove myself," he implored, reaching out to take your hand.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was sincerity and a deep longing. "Carlos, this isn't going to be easy," you said, your voice softening.

"Trust has to be earned, and it will take time for me to fully trust you again. But I want to try. I want to believe that we can overcome this, together."

Carlos's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he whispered, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I promise I will do whatever it takes to show you that my intentions are true. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us, facing the world together."

You nodded, feeling a cautious optimism bloom within you.

The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you both felt that it might just be possible to forge a future built on a foundation of truth and mutual respect.

"Good," you muttered, cupping his face to place a kiss on his lips.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters of this newfound honesty. But soon, it deepened with a mutual understanding that this was the first step towards mending what had been broken.

Pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes, seeing the determination etched in his gaze.

"Well," you said with a playful smile, "if we're going to start fresh, maybe we should celebrate with dinner tonight. How about you cook for me? I've been dying to taste your famous paella."

Carlos chuckled, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. "Ah, my culinary skills, eh? You know, I only bring out my best recipes for special occasions. But for you, I think I can make an exception."

"You'd better," you teased, giving him a light nudge. "And don't think you can win me over with just food. I'm expecting some serious effort on your part."

Carlos grinned, his confidence returning. "Challenge accepted. Just wait, by the end of the night, you won't have any doubts about my commitment to us."

You both laughed, the tension easing as you basked in the warmth of this new beginning, ready to face whatever came next, together. . . .

Carlos couldn't help but sneak another glance at the grand Alfonso mansion as he crept through the garden, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, finally reaching the veranda where you stood waiting.

"Absolutely," you whispered back, a smile playing on your lips. "I've thought about it, and I don't want to waste any more time. If we're going to build a future together, let's start now."

Carlos took a deep breath, looking deep into your eyes. "Then let's do it. Let's get married. I'll make Friar Laurence wed us tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a rush of exhilaration. "Yes, Carlos. Let's take this leap of faith together. No more doubts, no more hesitation. Just us, united in a promise to face everything hand in hand."

"Until tomorrow, princess. I can't wait to make you my wife," Carlos said, kissing your knuckles.

Your heart raced as his warm lips brushed against your skin. The way he looked at you, with such adoration and longing, sent shivers down your spine. You knew in that moment that there was no one else you'd rather spend the rest of your life with.

"I can hardly contain my excitement," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "The thought of becoming your wife fills me with such joy."

Carlos smiled, his eyes sparkling with love. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow, in front of all our loved ones, I will make you mine forever." He brought your hand to his lips once more, sealing the promise with a tender kiss.

As he reluctantly pulled away, you already felt the loss of his touch. But the knowledge that soon you would be bound to him for eternity filled you with a sense of peace and belonging.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

The next day, under the cover of dawn, you and Carlos made your way to Friar Laurence's small chapel. The early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the stone floor.

Friar Laurence stood at the altar, a knowing smile on his face as you approached. "Are you both ready to take this step?" he asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.

Carlos squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, Friar," he replied with unwavering certainty. "We are ready to start our life together."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a swell of emotion rise in your chest.

Friar Laurence began the ceremony, his words a soothing balm to your anxious heart. As you exchanged vows, the world outside seemed to fade away.

Friar Laurence started, "Carlos and Y/N, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your union bring an end to the conflict between your families."

Carlos said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you, Friar Laurence. With this marriage, I hope my father and Y/N's father can find peace."

"As do I, Carlos. Our love will show them that there is a way forward, beyond this senseless feud."

Friar Laurence smiled, "I pray that your marriage will be the first step towards reconciliation. May God bless you both."

For those precious moments, it was just the two of you, bound by love and the promise of a future together. . . .

Later that afternoon, Carlos met with Mercutio in the secluded garden behind his family's estate. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees.

Benvolio, ever the jester, was the first to speak. "Carlos, you look like a man with a secret. Do tell, what has you so radiant today?"

Carlos couldn't suppress his joy any longer. "My friend, I have wonderful news. This morning, Y/N and I were married in Friar Laurence's chapel."

Benvolio's eyes widened in surprise. "Married? So soon? But what about the feud between your families? Do they know?"

Carlos shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "Not yet, but we hope that our union will be the catalyst for peace. We believe that our love can end this senseless conflict. Now, more than ever, we need your support and discretion."

However, he is soon stopped when he sees Tybalt Alfonso, Y/N's cousin, there arguing with Mercutio. The tension in the garden was palpable, cutting through the serene atmosphere like a knife.

Tybalt's face was flushed with anger as he pointed an accusing finger at Mercutio. "What are you doing here, Montague?"

Tybalt spat, his voice laced with venom. "This garden is not for the likes of you."

Mercutio, ever the provocateur, smirked and replied, "Oh, Tybalt, must you always be so dramatic? We're simply enjoying the lovely weather. Besides, Carlos invited us."

Carlos stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "Tybalt, please, this isn't the time for old grudges."

Tybalt glared at Carlos, his eyes burning with fury. "You dare refuse my challenge?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "We are sworn enemies, and you will face me in combat!"

Carlos held up his hands, his expression calm and resolute. "I cannot, Tybalt. You are like family to me. I love you as a brother, and I will not raise my hand against you."

Tybalt's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger momentarily tempered by the unexpected response. "What madness is this?" he demanded.

"We have been at odds for years, and now you claim to love me as kin?"

"It is no madness, Tybalt," Carlos replied evenly. "My heart has changed, and I see now that our feud has been a foolish and pointless thing. Let us put aside our differences and embrace as family."

Tybalt's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "You mock me with your words, Carlos," he growled.

"I will not be swayed by your honeyed tongue. The time for talk is over - draw your sword and fight, or be forever branded a coward!"

"I cannot believe you refuse to fight like a true man," Mercutio spat, his eyes narrowed in frustration as Carlos once again declined the challenge.

"Do you not have the courage to face me on the battlefield?"

Carlos averted his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean no disrespect, Mercutio, but I have no desire to engage in such violence. Perhaps we could resolve this matter peacefully."

Mercutio scoffed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Peaceful? Bah! You dishonour yourself and all those around you with your cowardice."

He stepped forward, his chin raised defiantly. "If you will not fight, then I shall take your place and show you how a true warrior conducts himself."

Before Carlos could protest, Mercutio had already turned to face Tybalt, his sword drawn and his stance ready.

"En garde, Tybalt!" he called out, his voice ringing with a mixture of anger and excitement. "Let us see who is the better swordsman!"

Tybalt and Mercutio drew their swords, the blades gleaming in the sunlight as they began to duel.

The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the streets as the two men traded fierce blows, their movements swift and precise.

Sensing the escalating tension, Carlos attempted to intervene, stepping between the combatants in a desperate bid to stop the fighting.

However, Tybalt, blinded by rage, lashed out with his sword, aiming to strike Carlos but instead catching Mercutio in the chest.

Mercutio cried out in pain as the blade pierced his flesh, crimson blood spilling onto the cobblestones. He staggered backward, his own sword slipping from his grasp as he clutched at the wound.

Tybalt, realising his mistake, hesitated for a moment, his expression a mix of shock and regret.

The brief pause was all Carlos needed to seize Tybalt's sword arm, wrestling the weapon from his grip and forcing him to the ground. Mercutio, his strength fading, collapsed to his knees, his laboured breaths echoing in the stunned silence that had fallen over the scene.

Mercutio drew his final, shuddering breath, his body racked with agony. He turned to his friend Carlos, pain etched across his face.

"Alas, dear friend, I fear my end is nigh," Mercutio said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This wound, it burns like fire, sapping my strength with every passing moment."

Carlo grasped Mercutio's hand, tears welling in his eyes. "Speak not of such things, good Mercutio. You shall recover, I promise you."

Mercutio managed a weak smile. "Nay, Romeo, my time has come. Promise me, promise me you'll not forget me." Romeo nodded solemnly, a single tear cascading down his cheek.

"I shall never forget you, my dearest friend."

Carlos's heart ached with unbearable sorrow as he held Mercutio's hand tightly. "Your memory will live on in my heart forever, Mercutio," he vowed, his voice breaking.

With a final squeeze, he watched helplessly as the light faded from his friend's eyes. . . .

Carlos felt furious at Tybalt for killing Mercutio. The death of his dear friend had left him overcome with rage.

How dare Tybalt take Mercutio's life in such a callous manner? Carlos seethed with anger, his fists clenched as he replayed the tragic events in his mind.

In that moment, all Carlos could think about was avenging Mercutio. The thirst for retribution burned within him, clouding his judgment.

He knew he had to confront Tybalt, to make him pay for this heinous act. Carlos was determined to ensure justice was served, no matter the cost. His grief had morphed into a fierce, unyielding desire for vengeance.

Carlos scanned the area, his eyes narrowing as he searched for Tybalt. The coward had fled, leaving chaos and heartbreak in his wake. Carlos's rage intensified with every passing second, knowing that Tybalt had not only taken Mercutio's life but had also escaped without facing the consequences of his actions.

The thought of Tybalt's cowardice fueled his resolve, and he vowed to track him down, no matter how long it took or how far he had to go.

Determined and unwavering, Carlos rose to his feet, his mind singularly focused on his mission. He would hunt Tybalt to the ends of the earth if necessary, driven by a mix of grief and fury.

The streets that once seemed familiar now felt like a labyrinth he had to navigate to find his enemy.

As he moved forward, each step was a promise to Mercutio: justice would be served, and the pain inflicted upon his friend would not go unanswered.

Carlos and Tybalt found each other in the dimly lit alleyway, the tension between the two palpable. They circled one another, eyes locked, hands gripping their weapons tightly.

Without warning, Tybalt lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air. Carlos parried the attack, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing through the narrow passage. The two men traded blows, their movements quick and precise, each one trying to gain the upper hand.

The fight raged on, neither man willing to back down. Tybalt's attacks grew more frenzied, his desperation fueling his strikes.

Carlos, however, remained calm and focused, his counterattacks landing with devastating precision.

In a final, desperate attempt, Tybalt made one last lunge.

But Carlos was ready, and with a swift, decisive movement, he plunged his blade deep into Tybalt's chest. Tybalt's eyes widened in shock, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Carlos stood over Tybalt's lifeless body, his chest heaving with the adrenaline of the fight. The rage that had fueled him moments ago began to ebb, replaced by a heavy, somber silence.

He glanced up at the darkened sky, a sense of emptiness washing over him as he realized that, despite his victory, the void left by Mercutio's death could never truly be filled.

Realising what he has done, Carlos fled in a panic. The weight of his actions overwhelmed him, and he knew he could not face the consequences.

The Prince arrived on the scene, his expression grave.

With a booming voice, he declared, "Carlos, your crimes for killing Tybalt are unforgivable. You are hereby banished from Aragonia, effective immediately. You must leave our lands at once and never return, lest you face the full extent of our justice."

Carlos trembled, knowing there was no arguing with the Prince's decree.

You crumpled to the floor, the news of your cousin Tybalt's death and your husband Carlos' banishment hitting you like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the letter that had delivered such devastating news.

The room seemed to spin, and you felt an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The love you had for Carlos was now intertwined with the grief and anger over Tybalt's demise, leaving you torn and shattered.

Days turned into nights, and the sorrow did not relent. You wandered through your home, haunted by memories of happier times, now tainted by the tragedy that had befallen your family.

Friends and family tried to console you, but their words felt hollow, unable to bridge the chasm of pain that consumed you.

The future seemed bleak, and you struggled to find a way forward, questioning how you could ever rebuild your life with the two most important people ripped away from you.

Each moment brought a fresh wave of anguish, the love for Carlos clashing violently with the grief and anger over Tybalt's death. You found yourself trapped in an endless cycle of longing and resentment, unable to reconcile the two.

At night, when the world was quiet, the memories of Carlos's gentle touch would surface, only to be shattered by the haunting vision of Tybalt's lifeless body, leaving you torn between the man you loved and the cousin you had lost.

"Y/N! Open the window door!" you heard someone too familiar say at your balcony at night.

You were about to sleep when you ran to the balcony to see Carlos, your husband who was supposed to be banished from the kingdom for killing your cousin.

"Carlos, what are you doing here?" you asked, opening the window for him, still angry for his actions.

"Y/N, my love, I had to come back. I couldn't live without you," Carlos pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation.

"I know what I did was wrong, but I did it to protect you. That cousin of yours was a threat, and I had to eliminate him."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Protect me? By murdering my own flesh and blood? Do you have any idea what you've done? You're a wanted man, Carlos. If they find you here, they'll kill you."

"I don't care about that," he said, reaching for your hand. "All that matters to me is you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

You pulled your hand away, your heart torn between your love for Carlos and the weight of his actions. "Carlos, you have to leave. This is madness. I can't protect you, and I can't be with you, not after what you've done."

"They didn't tell anyone but your cousin killed Mercutio," Carlos muttered.

"What? That can't be true," You exclaimed, your heart racing. "My cousin would never do such a thing!"

Carlos shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid it is true. I was there, I tried to stop them. They were trying to cover it up. I'm sorry I killed Tybalt but it was justice for Mercutio,"

You felt a sense of disbelief wash over you.

"Tell me everything, Carlos," you demanded, your voice trembling. "I need to know exactly what happened that night."

Carlos took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It all started when I was telling Mercutio about our marriage. Tybalt suddenly came out of nowhere and challenged us to fight. Tybalt lost his temper and attacked him. I tried to intervene, but it was too late. When I saw Mercutio fall, I knew I had to act."

You could see that Carlos wasn't lying through his eyes, which made you feel even worse. You walked further into your room, your hand on your face, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you.

Carlos followed you, quietly closing the window behind him to ensure no one would hear your conversation.

"Y/N, I know this is difficult to accept, but I had no choice," Carlos said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't let Tybalt get away with what he did to Mercutio. Our friend needed justice, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Carlos, despite the anger and betrayal still burning within you. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the truth pressing down on you both.

"Y/N, I didn't come here to discuss bloodshed and the past," Carlos said, his voice steadying as he took a step closer to you.

"Then what did you come here to discuss?" you asked, leaning against the nearest wall to face him, your eyes searching his for answers.

"Us," he muttered, looking down at the floor. "We haven't really consummated the marriage, have we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. "Carlos, this isn't the time," you whispered, trying to hold back the storm of emotions. "Our lives are in danger, and all you can think about is us?"

Carlos raised his eyes to meet yours, determination etched in his features. "Yes, because despite everything, I love you. And I need to know if there's still a chance for us, if you still love me too."

You stood there, stunned by his confession. The love you once felt for Carlos was now tangled with the pain of recent events. "Carlos," you began, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't know if I can just forget everything that happened. Mercutio's death, the feud—it has all changed us. But I can't deny that a part of me still cares for you."

Carlos took another step closer, his eyes softening. "Then let that part guide you," he pleaded. "We can find a way through this, together. We can honor Mercutio by trying to build something better, something that isn't marred by hatred and violence."

You searched his eyes, longing to believe in the possibility of a future where love could triumph over the shadows of the past.

"Y/N, I want you," he said, his voice low and husky.

You looked up at him, your heart racing. You wanted him too, but you were still scared. . . .

"I don't know if I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling.

Carlos took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll be gentle, I promise," he said, his fingers tracing the outline of your face.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, you knew you couldn't resist him any longer. You took a deep breath and nodded, and Carlos led you inside.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Carlos pulled you close and kissed you, his lips hot and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body melting against his.

He started to undress you, his hands skillfully removing your clothes. You stood there, trembling with anticipation, as he kissed every inch of your body.

When he reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, his tongue swirling around it. You let out a moan, your body responding to his touch.

He continued to explore your body, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your pussy, he spread your lips apart and started to lick and suck, his tongue delving deep inside you.

You let out a loud moan, your body writhing with pleasure. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers joining in to stimulate your clit.

You felt an orgasm building inside you, and you grabbed onto Carlos's head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," you moaned. "Don't stop."

He didn't stop, and soon you were crying out in pleasure, your body shaking as you came hard against his mouth.

When you finally came down from your orgasm, Carlos stood up and kissed you, his tongue delving deep into your mouth. You could taste your own juices on his lips, and it only turned you on more.

He reached down and pulled out his cock, and you could see the desire in his eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he entered you in one swift motion.

You let out a loud moan as he filled you up, your body adjusting to his size. He started to thrust, slowly at first, and then faster and harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You could feel another orgasm building inside you, and you urged him on.

"Harder, Carlos," you moaned, "harder."

He responded by thrusting even harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke. You let out a loud cry as you came again, your body shaking with pleasure.

Carlos continued to thrust, his own orgasm building. He let out a loud groan as he came, his hot cum filling you up.

You collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat. You kissed him, your tongues intertwined, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

"Let's run away together," you muttered breathlessly, your lips still tingling from the intensity of your kiss.

Carlos looked into your eyes, his face softening with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. "You mean it?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and disbelief.

You nodded, feeling a surge of certainty wash over you. "Yes, let's leave everything behind and start fresh, just the two of us."

Carlos smiled, a glimmer of excitement flickering in his eyes. "I’ve wanted this for so long. We can go anywhere you want," he said, caressing your cheek. "Paris, Bali, or even a small cabin in the mountains. As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

You kissed him again, your decision cemented by the passion you shared, ready to embark on a new journey together.

"You stay here and rest, and I'll pack for you," he said, sitting up with a playful smirk. "I've gotten a good eye for fashion, you know."

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief and exhilaration wash over you. "Oh really? I'd love to see your choices," you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Carlos stood up and began gathering clothes and essentials, his movements quick and efficient. "Trust me, you'll look amazing in everything I pick," he said confidently.

You watched him, a smile playing on your lips, feeling a newfound sense of freedom. "I can't wait to see where this adventure takes us," you murmured, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Carlos turned to you, holding up a sundress and a pair of sandals. "How about this for our first stop in Paris? It's perfect for a romantic stroll along the Seine," he suggested with a wink.

You giggled, nodding your approval. "I love it! And maybe a hat to go with it? We don't want to look like typical tourists," you added with a playful grin.

He chuckled, placing the outfit in the suitcase. "Consider it done. And for the mountains, I've got just the thing—cozy sweaters and boots for those chilly nights by the fireplace," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You felt a rush of warmth and affection, knowing that no matter where you went, as long as you were together, it would be perfect.

"Here's to new beginnings," you said, raising an imaginary glass, and Carlos joined in, the two of you basking in the glow of your shared dreams and the promise of endless possibilities. . . .

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Matilda burst into your room, her face pale with panic.

"Where are you?!" she screamed, her voice trembling with fear. She tore through the room, throwing open the closet doors and rifling through drawers, but all she found was an empty suitcase and a note left behind.

Matilda's hands shook as she unfolded the note, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. "Dear Matilda, I've decided to start a new chapter with Carlos. I hope you understand. Please don't worry about me; I'm finally following my heart. Love, [Your Name]."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew deep down that you were doing what was best for you. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Be happy," sending her silent blessings to wherever your adventure was taking you.

Matilda took a moment to collect herself, then resolved to support your decision despite her initial shock. She decided to focus on her own journey, finding solace in the thought that you were finally pursuing your happiness.

Matilda knew that breaking the news to your family would be difficult, so she opted to tell a little white lie.

Over breakfast, she calmly explained to your parents that you had taken a spur-of-the-moment business trip and would be out of touch for a while.

"It's a great opportunity for her," she said, forcing a smile. "She didn't want to worry you with the details but assured me she'd be back soon."

Your parents exchanged concerned glances but ultimately trusted Matilda's explanation. As the days turned into weeks, she continued to cover for you, providing updates and reassuring them that you were doing well.

Deep down, Matilda felt the weight of the secret she was keeping, but she knew it was what you needed.

She found strength in the hope that one day, you would return to share your incredible journey with everyone. . . .

[beababoobies]

Hope this is alright, I'm new to requesting ! But per chance could you write some sir pentious x warm!reader ? Like the reader is warm to the touch and the snake man likes to stay close since hes cold blooded.. up to you if want them to have an established relationship or have it as a crush !! Totally understand if you dont wish to write it/gen

Have a lovely day!

THIS IS CUTE GAHHHHHHH !1!11!1! YEAHHH!!! I love snake man and one of my special interests is reptiles and they silly little heat lamps. Absolutely. I went with an established relationship for this one and I hope you don’t mind. Enjoy! :)

Warmth

words : 1k pairing ; Sir Pentious x Reader

Pentious loved touch in general - it was reassuring, nice, and it made him feel human all over again. But he loved when you touched him. Hell was already a pretty warm climate, but he loved how warm it was in your arms. Your skin felt comforting, like his own personal heat lamp.

Every time you slept in the same bed, he would always slither into your arms with you wrapped right around him like a koala. He loves feeling the body head from your chest straight against his, considering how cold it got in the hotel some nights. You were always warm - his little furnace. 

Sometimes, even while just doing rehabilitation exercises, he’d ask you to cup your hands around his face for a couple seconds, which would always turn into a couple minutes, until Charlie called you two back to keep participating in trust falls or sharing circles. When you two cuddled, he’s always quickly to put his hands under your shirt. Not even in a sexual way, he just loves how warm it is right under there.

There are times when you have to pry him off you, but it’s not often enough for you to care. Sometimes you’ll be eating dinner and he’ll try to nuzzle up to you, rubbing his cheek against yours, only for you to gently remind him you’re trying to eat. 

One time during trust falls, he wouldn’t let go of you after he caught you. Charlie and Vaggie had to convince him that he’d get you back in a second, but it was his turn. It took him ten minutes to get off. And even then, he would only do the trust fall if you caught him. You can’t lie and say that went very well.  

One of your favourite memories; a warm Sunday afternoon, his tail wrapped around one of your legs and hands under your shirt, on the bare skin of your back, head nestled into the crook of your neck, and chest pressed up against yours to get the maximum warmth. The sun is peeking out from the window and making you even warmer. He’s practically in heaven. 

You were already asleep, snoring softly as your  body, heavy with sleep, radiated all the warmth he swears he could ever need, chest rising and falling softly against his. He wants to look back, see how adorable you look asleep and out of it, but the warmth of your neck against his cheek is too much to miss out on.

It goes by like this for a few hours - cuddled up to you and listening to your pulse and soft snores, not even daring to fall asleep and miss out on how comfortable and at peace he feels, until you wake up. You sit up, immediately hearing his sleepy protests from behind you before you get pulled right back into his arms.

“Well, good afternoon to you too.” You mumble sleepily with a giggle, as he mumbles your greeting back into the skin of your neck, and you gently place your hand on the back of his head, softly petting him and feeling him relax back into you, his cold scales pressed up against your warm skin making you smile.

“Do you love me or how warm I am, huh?” You joke with a smile on your face, only to watch him pull back with worry in his eyes, shaking his head rapidly. “I love you for sssso many other reasssonsss!” He says, concerned as your burst out giggling, watching as his expression turns from concerned and panicked to confused.

“I was joking, baby. I’m happy to be your little heating lamp, my love.” You mumbled softly as you press a kiss to his forehead, watching him relax his head onto your chest, letting out a sigh of relief as he closes his eyes again. 

“You’re my favourite heat lamp…” he mumbles out quietly as you feel him start to fall asleep, body becoming sleepy weight in your arms as you feel your eyes flutter shut, snores slowly syncing up with your lovers. 

Or maybe even when you woke up in the middle of the night to him talking to his egg boys before you got together, knocking on his door just to find him complaining about how cold it was.

You wrapped him up in your arms under your blankets, egg boys being sent to their own bed, while you cuddled up to him. You remember so distinctly how rigid and timid he was at first. Not knowing where to put his hands, how to approach the situation.

“I - isss thisss okay?” He hissed softly as he put his hands on your back, head laid out on your chest, as you hummed out a small ‘mhm.’ tiredly, feeling him slowly start to warm up in your arms, body slowly relaxing. 

“.. can I put them under your sssshirt?” He asks quietly; so quietly you can barely hear it, actually. You smile softly to yourself, before giving him another small but affirming ‘mhm.’ His hands were so cold you almost flinched away from them as he put his hands flat against the warmth of your back, letting out a sigh of relief.

You lay like that for a while, feeling him slowly relax under your hold, no longer shivering. His head properly laid on your chest, instead of the awkward slightly raised just above your skin it was doing before, listening to your heartbeat. His chest was fully pressed against yours, like his own personal radiator.

“Better?” You ask quietly, gently petting his head, one hand on his back rubbing small circles into it as he nods, not caring to open his eyes. He looks so lovely and satisfied in this state - you can’t bare to get up and move once he was warmed up like you originally planned. 

That’s the first night you really started to fall for him. Maybe the first night he started to fall for you. Falling asleep with him holding you so tightly yet so softly, soaking in the warmth of your skin as he slept. Falling asleep the sound of your heartbeat slowing as you fell asleep too. 

[rubra-wav]

Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Pentious, Alastor, and Lucifer x a concerningly unstable, younger reader

@pandaquick

A/N : reader is still written to be 18ish

I took creative liberties with this, so I'm sorry if I've taken that a bit in the wrong direction w this one!

The song 'Mama's Boy' came on while I was deciding where I'll take this one and kinda made me start feeling some type of way/lh

You didn't really specify what type of unstable they are, so I went with depression type presentations for that

Cw: SFW, very slight references to past self-destructive behaviour, gn!reader, platonic, hurt/comfort, found family-ish (in all these except for Alastor's)

Charlie

- When you show up at the hotel, she's absolutely elated to have a new resident! Especially one who's new to hell and thus hasn't built up sky-high walls to everyone due to the harsh climate.

- When you disclose why you ended up here, she's utterly horrified.

- The idea someone could be condemned to this place which reeks of burning flesh at all times for something so stupid is truly exasperating.

- She almost has doubt creep into her mind about her dream when she hears the truth about your being in hell, but quickly flips it into positivity as it means you're easy to redeem.

- As you become closer and start opening up after feeling more comfortable, Charlie quickly becomes very concerned for your well-being.

- Sweeps you into her arms while trying (and failing) to not cry as she hears about the kinds of horrible thoughts going on often for you.

- From then on, if she ever notices you becoming withdrawn or particularly sensitive/unstable she will try to convince you to talk it out with her.

- If that's not something you're into? She just tries to distract you and sweep you along with her as she discusses possible activities for the hotel and other random stuff.

- At some point she starts becoming a caretaker to you emotionally and doesn't really even notice herself start to step into essentially becoming motherly towards you.

- She's just really afraid for you at times and wants to take care of you!

- You're also a fair bit younger than the people around you (including her), so even with you being an adult technically yourself she still slips into that kind of attitude.

Vaggie

- When you show up she can tell something is up under everything pretty quickly.

- She's dealt with a fair lot of mental anguish over the years so she can see the cracks in your mental state even before you feel comfortable openly discussing it.

- Will not approach it with you, but will do indirect things for you to try help you practically like making extra food for you as she cooks or reminding you to drink water if those are things you seem to struggling.

- Vaggie isn't the emotionally supportive type, so when she tries to be it seems awkward. She is genuine about it, though.

- Openly face palms when she hears that you got sent here for something so little. 'Classic heaven.' She'd grumble under her breath before apologising for you being sent to hell for something so stupid. (Confusing you and making her start sweating a bit because she's meant to be a demon not an angel-)

- As you start opening up more and more, she becomes even more practical in helping you out upon actually knowing what exactly you need.

- Feels incredibly concerned upon hearing the true extent to your instability and probably has some angst over not being emotionally warm as she would like to be.

- You two bond over mutual terrible experiences, and she essentially becomes a mentor-like figure to you.

- This turns more personal, though, as Charlie starts mothering you.

- Eventually you're essentially adopted by Vaggie and Charlie - they both work together to try to help you manage stuff and stay stable.

Angel

- Initially he'd be neutral to you most likely, just making the same sarcastic comments (albeit not suggestive. Even he has limits from what he's comfortable doing with his persona)

- When he hears how you got here, he just squints at you with a humourless laugh.

- The idea of someone being mostly non-sinful outside of ONE tiny, idiotic reason ending up in this shithole around people who are horrid abusers, to murderers, to every horrible thing possible is fucked.

- After discovering this, he'd be slightly inclined to be protective of you. Only slightly though initially. He can hardly support himself with his own baggage.

- This changes, though, after he learns of your history of self destruction and overall fragility as a demon.

- It's hard for him. He sees so much of himself in you - especially after just getting to hell.

- Despite his more logical thoughts of not trying to care for you, he does genuinely become extremely protective.

- You're the exact type of person who would be taken advantage of here, and he just wouldn't be able to sleep at night if he didn't even try to divert that from happening.

- He's not really the emotional support type, but he'd try to take your mind off of things with other activities. (Watch this man stumble trying to figure out age-appropriate activities for someone he sees as a kid in comparison to himself even if you're technically a legal adult.)

- In the streets, you have him armed to the teeth next to you at most times. It's funny to think about Angel trying to be scary dog privilege, but he actually is when he wants to be.

- Doesn't mother you or act as a guidance figure to you - god knows he is no good example - but he is gonna take out everyone in this bitch if anything happens to you.

Husk

- The second he meets you, he can see what's going on under everything, but he doesn't approach it at all.

- He's been a bartender collecting sob stories for years. He knows how to spot someone who is cracking under the surface or itching to tell their story or problems.

- He almost feels a prickle of empathy for your situation. Someone so young falling into hell of all places, clearly troubled, is a terrible situation. It's squashed the second he realises that you surely are sinful enough to have ended up here.

- As you reveal that your 'sin' was actually tiny however he curses as he actually now feels bad for you. I mean, come on, you're barely an adult, and you’ve been condemned for your whole afterlife for something so utterly small? He's losing the no heart impression he puts out.

- It scares him a bit honestly, so he avoids you like the plague. He'd rather ignore the pain someone like you being here brings him.

- Unfortunately, that doesn't work out as you come to him after a long day and break down at the counter of his bar. As he offers you an ear, he truly is annoyed at himself.

- Because oh god, he cannot take care of you, but he wants to help you.

- He tries to keep you at arms length as he eventually gives in to his want to try and help you out. Key word: tries.

- He's very rough around the edges in his approach, but he essentially steps in like a kind of really done, grumpy uncle who's always fretting over your wellbeing.

- He hates that he actually gives a shit but he would be incredibly restless if he didn't try to help or make sure you're okay.

- Ironically, he'd be telling you not to drink your problems away. Would be awkwardly giving examples of other coping mechanisms he'd learnt from Charlie's speeches about addiction.

- He's a hypocrite, but he doesn't care. It makes his bitter heart heavy to think of you getting into the vices he uses to cope.

- Also another one who is incredibly protective. Treats you like you're made of glass honestly.

Pentious

- He finds you strange mostly and is probably the most obviously curious out of everyone here about you and how you came to be here.

- Is asking the most questions even if they are tone deaf as it gets. How did you end up here? How did you die? Why are you moderately normal as compared to the other residents? (A comment which gets him a giant 'fuck you' and 'have you looked at yourself?' From everyone else around)

- He prods you into divulging information and is immediately protective of you from the second he learns that not only are you not really a sinner at all, but you are also quite fragile mentally.

- Someone like you should not be allowed to be tainted by hell's climate. He hides it behind him 'looking out for princess Charlie's dream', but he is truly afraid for you, and it's embarrassing to him.

- Is constantly all up in your business and trying to make sure you are well and okay.

- He's so paranoid that you're not alright that checking in on you almost becomes a compulsion for him. You've gotta end up reassuring him that you're just fine and that he doesn't need to be so worried.

- Absolutely a practical caretaker but is also big on physical touch as comfort.

- If you're ever crying or not feeling good, he will get you stuff and then he just straight up wraps his tail around you and pats your hair while telling you it's going to be okay.

- If you're ever out and he's with you, his immediate instinct is to try throw hands with anyone who looks at you mildly wrong. Due to not having his weapons anymore, he gets his ass beat doing this.

- When he's unable to be around you, he's going to have his eggs with you to help you out if you need anything.

- Really does turn into a worried mother over being like a father more than anything.

Alastor

- Unlike the others, he would see you solely as an opportunity.

- There's no cute found-family part here. He will use you.

- It would be so easy to convince you to enter into a deal with him as someone vulnerable and inexperienced with hell. He can see how fragile you are under the surface the second you get to the hotel more then just about everyone there.

- Everyone else would be pulling you away from him because it's so obvious you are nothing but easy pickings for him that it's not even funny.

- Would be very genuinely interested in how someone like you ended up in hell though.

- He got here by murdering and exploiting people in every way possible for his own entertainment. How could someone so seemingly innocent get here?

- Openly laughs when he hears your story of sin. He truly pities you getting sent down into hell with people him.

- You avoid him because you can see his intentions on your own, just as much as the people around you are telling you to stay away.

- He, of course, doesn't let that happen. He just likes to show up and watch you fumble through hell like you're prime entertainment.

- He may sometimes help you, but it's only because he just thinks the sight of you struggling is that pathetic to him.

- It may slowly become more of a fondness for you and your company, but the underlying reason for his kind behaviours to you is nothing good.

- He just wants to own you like an item, see how long it takes for someone so pure as a demon to break, and become just as bad as the rest of them.

Lucifer

- Unlike everyone else who are concerned for you, he sees you and instantly slips into dadTM mode with you, and this only deepens the more he learns about you.

- You almost remind him of how he is with how different you are from all of the other demons, and he feels genuine guilt that someone like you has ended up here.

- If he had never done what he did, you would be up in heaven and not condemned to this hell-hole. He doesn't think you should be down here at all for such a tiny mistake you made in your life.

- When he realises you are also really unstable and vulnerable he's going to be terrified for you.

- Especially with someone like Alastor looming over you at all times.

- He was already getting his shit back together when he began to mend things with Charlie, but he straightens up even more when he meets you and starts growing attached quickly.

- He's initially a bit distant despite his want to try care for you because he's already mending things with Charlie, but Charlie actually encourages him to reach out to you.

- She's essentially your unofficial mum in the hotel, but she's far from perfect at that, so she would like it if he would help however he could.

- Very emotionally supportive with you after he gets to be openly caretaking to you.

- He's still a bit awkward as he's essentially there getting his shit together alongside trying to help you out, but he tries to help wherever he can.

- Will absolutely love it if Charlie, Vaggie, you and him could do activities together for fun.

- He's also scary dog privilege 100%. His worry for you would likely come off as him seeming like he's going to absolutely drop demons and scare the living shit out of them.

Masterlist

[d0youc0py]

Even when he wasn’t working his mask seem to haunt him. He wanted to be here with you- but every time he looked in the mirror he was pulled away. Red bumps littered his jaw and some even around his hairline. He had always struggled with acne, having the acne scars to prove it, but it seemed to be getting worse. He’d been in a hotter climate this last mission, the sweat and not being able to air out his face was taking its toll.

He felt so unattractive. He quickly figured out when you feel ugly- you act ugly.

“Sweetheart, open up.” Simon sighed, his hand knocking at the door to emphasize. You two had just gone out on your first date since he’s been back and he snipped at you the whole time.

“Fuck off!”

Ouch.

“Sweetheart.” He started again. The bedroom door finally swung open. His body tensed at your teary face.

“I don’t know what happened to you while you were out there, and god knows you won’t tell me, but you have no right to take it out on me. I’ve been waiting for you to come home for the past three weeks and what am I greeted with? Hostility. It’s like I can’t do anything right.” You sputtered, glaring up at him. His hand instinctively went up to wipe the tears away from your face. He had never been the best at comforting people, but he would do anything to get your tears to stop.

“You’re right.” He admitted. The glare left your face. He was usually much more stubborn- unless he knew he in the was wrong. You softened. “It has nothin to do with work, at least not in the way you think.” His hand went up to rub his jaw but he quickly stopped himself. “I just haven’t been feeling”- He paused. He brought his hand up and motioned to his jaw, turning his head to the side.

“Si.” You murmured. You had noticed a little flare in his skin, but you didn’t really process it. He was always so handsome in your eyes. Your fingers reached up and traced along his cheekbone. “I understand.”

“Shouldn’t take it out on you though, yeah?” He affirmed.

“No you shouldn’t, but I understand now.” You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his chin. “You’re so handsome, you know.” You mumbled down his neck. He flushed, clearing his throat. “Do you want some help with it?” You offered.

His metabolism wasn’t what it use to be. Luckily the physical activity of his job kept away any unwanted pounds. That was until he was forced to go on medical leave and spend three months ‘taking it easy.’

He would be completely lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it though. Being home with you had been heaven- but a bit of hell on his waistline. He noticed it a bit, but he honestly didn’t think anyone else would. He was rudely awoken when he arrived back at base only to have Soap and Gaz poke fun at him. He knew it was all in good fun, but his first thoughts were about you. Had you noticed? If you did, how did you feel about it? He hushed his own thoughts figuring he would loose the weight out on the field. That was his second rude awakening. He had shed a few pounds, but a few stubborn ones remained poking out over his belt.

“How does Y/N feel about their new pillow?” Soap hummed, plopping down next to him. It had been like this for the past month.

“Sleeps like a rock.” Price grumbled.

“Didn’t know you knew what that was Cap.”

“Soap fuck off.” Ghost growled from across the aisle. “Fucking hell.”

The plane was quiet for a while after that.

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was never one to be insecure, but this was striking a cord. He remembers being younger and overhearing his mother gossiping in the kitchen about the neighbors.

“Alice has gained so much weight. She’s just gotten married too! Couldn’t imagine already letting myself go like that.”

Letting himself go.

That’s what it was. He didn’t want you- or anyone to think that he had ‘let himself go.’ That it was no longer important to him if you had found him attractive. That the two of you had been married for a little over a year so he could just give up. He shook himself out of his thoughts again.

•••••••••

He couldn’t even get through the door by the time you were on him.

“Welcome Home.” You smiled, pressing kisses to anywhere you could reach. He chuckled, leaning into you. He placed one arm under your bottom lifting you up to him. He dropped his duffle bag at the door kicking the door closed behind him.

“I missed you.” He murmured kissing you back just as desperate. He plopped down on the couch, settling you tightly in his lap. All was right in the world till your hands started to wander.

“You get hurt again?” You questioned after he flinched. Your hands went to pull up his shirt to inspect the damage. He stopped you. “John?” You questioned softly. He tangled his hands with yours.

“You know I have a tendency to be a bit old fashioned.” He started. You pressed your brows together.

“John I’ve seen you naked before.”

“No, love.” He chuckled. “I’ve gained a bit of weight and back in my day that was more scandalous than adultery”-

“You know I don’t care about that.” You interjected.

“I know, that’s what makes this whole thing ridiculous. It’s just something I’ve found out about myself, something that I need to work through.” He sighed, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Does this mean I can’t touch you?” You mumbled, fiddling with his shirt collar. He quickly shook his head.

“Course not.” He whispered.

“Johnny, you’re being too loud.”

That sentence had been replaying in his head like a broken record. You didn’t mean anything by it. You were just keeping him in check. Yet he could feel your embarrassment. The heat rising to your cheeks. The panic in your voice. The way you gave total strangers an apologetic smile when they turned your way. He had always been a naturally loud talker. Growing up with five siblings in a small two bedroom apartment was to thank for that. The fact that he had been around explosives for the past eight years didn’t help either.

“Johnny?” You tapped his arm. His eyes fled from the small paper bowl of ice cream to you. “You okay? You’ve been so quiet since we’ve left the restaurant.”

He couldn’t stop a dry chuckle. He grabbed the small bowl, shoving a spoonful in his mouth.

“ ‘m fine.” He mumbled. You sighed leaning across the table gripping his hand with yours.

“Jo.” You pressed again, flashing him your undeniable puppy eyes. He gave your hand a small squeeze.

“Sorry for the way I was at the restaurant.” He grumbled.

“What?” You asked, leaning forward again.

“I said, I’m sorry for the way I was at the restaurant.” He repeated. Your brows furrowed. Suddenly it hit you. Your hand left his and clamped over your mouth.

“No, no, no, Johnny.” You said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Well I did- but”- You cut yourself off. You rubbed your forehead. Your hands reached out again tangling yours and his together. “I’m sorry I made you feel bad. That wasn’t my intention. I just know you sometimes forget your own volume.”

He gave you a small smile, pressing a kiss to your knuckle.

“I know Bonnie. I just don’t like embarrassing you.”

“We’re just so different in that way Jo. My parents were so strict about how loud I was- especially in public. It’s just a stupid habit I have, but I should never expect you to follow it.” You smiled softly. He smiled back at you, the sparkle returning to his blue eyes.

“I should still work on it though. Don’t want to blow your eardrums out, then we’ll both be shouty.” He chuckled.

“You hate it when I do this don’t you?” You hummed.

“I’m still not use to it.” He sighed, using his thumb to run small circles against your hip. He shivered as your fingers traced over another long stretch mark on his back. He mumbled something and pulled you closer, your body almost completely buried underneath his.

It was no secret Konig was tall. Along with that height came stretch marks. Mostly on his lower back and calves, some even under his arms. Some had faded, a small ridge in his skin to show they were still there. Others were a deeper pink- more noticeable.

“Everybody has them Konnie.” You mumbled, pressing a kiss under his jaw.

“I know.” He purred out as you massaged a small kink out of his back. Truth be told he didn’t really care about them either- until the locker room. That’s when he noticed how excessive his seemed. He had carried that feeling for a while, it wasn’t until he met you did he become more comfortable with it. You had showed him your stretch marks and he saw how pretty they looked on you. He slowly began to figure out that if he thought they looked nice on you, then you probably felt the same way about his. He still tenses when you touch them, his eyes darting to yours for any sign of insincerity. He’s always met with love and want. Just the thought of it causes a flutter in his stomach.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

THE WOMB REQUIRES US TO LIVE NON-VIOLENTLY Most of what I see going on with those of us with wombs is that we are still looking at the world as 15 year old girls. We are looking at the world through old timelines, archaic imprints or predictive religious programming. The latter is lovely if you are religious, but most of us are unconscious that what we actually believe is true has been adopted from religious teachings taught by people who are no longer alive. Women have been taught to assume that anything related to their arousal is about sex and men because we don't have the proper perspective on how our female bodies truly operate. These deep foundational misalignments are subtle forms of violence internalized from patriarchy that hold us back from thriving in our magical female bodies in this 3D reality, elevating our consciousness and mitochondria, regenerating our cells, and transforming this world into the brighter—other women, men, children, all people, nature, and the like. It is your birthright to have ease, to feel safe, and experience heaven on earth. But so many women are doing the same thing year after year, lifetime after lifetime, and do not do anything differently in a radical way in order to create a new imprint. We must go deeper into what it is actually required in order to come fully alive in our bodies and transform our health, lives and this world's reflection. Principles, values, and rituals are essential and I will share an example of one of mine. Before I fly, I stretch a few times a day and fast on juices, water, and teas a week before to raise the quality of my light body, that internal halo, the mystical sacred lubrication which I know has contributed to me having beautiful easeful travel experiences. And what would register to another person as “annoying” or “messed up” resonates to my tissues as gratitude or a blessing. When your divine energy is flowing, you naturally integrate well into a new climate and culture and won't have to worry about getting sick so easily. I also pack early so that my tissues can be relaxed and thereby energy flowing even more. I cover my head with fabric or a divinely prayed over ribbon or scarf before boarding the flight. I stretch during long flights to keep my energy flowing. In other words, I am mindful not to live in my body violently-rushing here and there, staying up late, and packing at the last second. All the qualities and actions that make us come fully alive in our bodies and be more naturally radiant and beautiful have been dismissed and downgraded for the quick, fast, and convenient. The rise of health issues in the female line is devastating. What we have done to the female body is a tragedy and we have have to be better, less violent to ourselves by moving lower, taking our time, and being gentle with the discomfort that comes up as the universe catches up to our new frequency and brings more harmony. We need real philosophies, belief systems, and practical actions that actually work for our bodies and not against them. I mentioned recently how "lubrication" is my #1 core value. I didn't say that for giggles; I really meant that! I am deeply feminine woman but I'm also a strategist who knows that the female body works most magically and optimally when our energy is flowing -which naturally means that our tissues will be lubricated. Lubrication, libido, or the flow of fluids are certainly more than about sex, as lovely as sex can be. First and foremost, they are about strength, health, wellness, longevity, and mental clarity. How can you be a little more attention to your body? What are your core values? What are your principles for living in your body? What violent belief systems do you need to let go of? As we continue to wake up to the fact that the world is not what we've been programmed to believe it to be and the divine feminine continues to break through the ashes, messages like what I am saying will become more popular and less radical and jarring. If you are reading this, you are already ahead of the game.-India Ame'ye, Author

Tumblr won't let me edit post but should read: "Women are generally exhausted and bored which is why constantly consuming/taking information and shopping all the time is so attractive. The qualities and actions that make us fully alive in our bodies and more naturally radiant and beautiful have been dismissed and downgraded for the quick, fast, popular or convenient. "

[somehow-a-human]

The angels don't have to ask to enter the bookshop.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

We've been operating under the assumption that BOTH the angels and demons have to ask to enter the bookshop, but I don't think that's true. I'm pretty sure it's one of our red herrings for season 2.

Continued under the cut.

When Gabriel shows up to the bookshop nude and oblivious, the doors are closed and (I believe) locked. Gabriel doesn't even know who or where he is, so he does what the default is... he knocks, and asks "Can I come in?" Aziraphale is frightened at first and tells him he can't come in but eventually our angels empathy wins and he says "Alright! Just... just get in!"

>> It's never clear that Gabriel would have physically been unable to come in otherwise.

When the Archangels show up Aziraphale literally cuts them off before they reach the door of the bookshop. Saraqael suggests, "Shall we discuss this inside?", and Aziraphale continues, "By all means. Would you like to come in?"

>> If Aziraphale hadn't rushed out to meet the angels, why wouldn't they have just walked into the bookshop like they did numerous times in season 1? Additionally I am fairly certain Aziraphale's "By all means. Would you like to come in?" was added in post via ADR. That doesn't necessarily add credence to anything, just an observation.

When Muriel arrives to surveil Aziraphale they ask, "Great! Well, could I come in and do it inside please? Only cause it's really noisy out here and I can't hear anything." Aziraphale replies, "By all means."

>> Muriel is an endearing angel who doesn't know much about life on earth, but had the shop been open and unlocked at the time of their arrival, they might've just wandered in as well.

We're never told the angels *can't* enter the bookshop explicitly like we are for the demons. We've always just assumed the same rules apply to all of the ethereal and occult beings.

But then, might I ask, why does Aziraphale tell us "Technically, this bookshop still counts as an Embassy"?

If the bookshop is still an embassy, the angels wouldn't need permission to enter, they would still have jurisdiction, and would still be able to monitor what's going on there... yes?

Let's compare this to the demons attempts to enter the bookshop, because Shax states clearly that she can't enter without permission. We see this again when she tries to get into the Bentley after it's canonically 'our car', and therefore at least partially owned by an angel.

I'm pretty sure John and Neil make a point of having the angels all ask in some way to enter, and Aziraphale seem to grant them permission as a red herring. They don't need to, but they want us to assume a false sense of security, to think that the bookshop is a safe space for our duo, outside of the reaches of both Heaven and Hell.

Technicalities are big in season 2 and I definitely think they're a huge underlying string running through all of Good Omens. In season 1, Crowley and Aziraphale stop Heaven and Hell from trying to restart Armageddon on a technicality. Gabriel and Beelzebub don't technically know if the great plan *is* the ineffable plan! It's definitely a favorite trope of Terry and Neil's to mock unfair, broken, bureaucratic systems, and Heaven and Hell are a PERFECT example of this.

**Somebody has written a meta on technicalities, I know I've seen it but I cannot for the life of me find it so if anyone could tag me so I could link it that would be brills! (Yeah that's right I'm adopting that from Charles from Dead Boy Detectives, 80's british slang ftw, I'm obsessed; please watch it, please, I need a second season.)

Neil has mentioned that the plot for season 3 might've had to be changed from he and Terry's original vision a bit, based on the political climate of the current day, and I'm sure that means we'll see some technicalities being the downfall of Heaven and Hells systems in Season 3 as well. I don't think the metatron is a villain, nor any of the other angels or demons. They're just fulfilling their function, following a set of rules, very much to a fault. This is all just God's big experiment after all, freewill, choice, eating the apple, and the angels and demons aren't exempt.

I wouldn't be surprised if there's some sort of technicality about the angels and demons themselves in season 3. We've seen that they're of the same stock, and we know Crowley at least is technically still the same person he was when he was an angel... more or less. Could the book of life end up revealing something like that the demons still exist perpetually as their angelsonas? A technicality, if you will?

Given the bookshop is still technically an embassy, is everything that happens inside observable by Heaven? Can they access the bookshop in their Earth Observation Files? There is some questionable blocking surrounding the bust in Aziraphale's bookshop, coupled with a curious record cover from Maggie's bookshop pointed out by @noneorother

Anyway... Let me know your thoughts. I haven't been posting as much, I have been mega busy and I'm trying to be thankful for it. Love you all, hope you have something nice happen for you today! <3