#sorry I could not resist XD

[neredoesnotfail]

❛ do not forget what i am.  ❜ // @lcftyambiticns

"And what is that?" the drow questions with a mocking not-quite-smile, that telltale [ patronizing ] sing-song to his voice.

His head canted slightly to one side, he continues, pondering the potential answers aloud.

"A ne'er-do-well? A cad? A wizard of... questionable renown? A mere mortal hoping to cast off his mortality? What, precisely, is it that you wish us to remember that you are?"

[marinerainbow]

Hey! ^^ I hope you're well ^^

I have a Happily N'ever After though to share with you- but of course you don't have to answer ^^

So, I rewatched it last night (and, just- it gives so much joy XD ) and I think I heard Monk refer to Freida as 'a' evil stepmother.

... a.

Not 'the'.

And up until this point I'd been thinking of all the fairytale characters as immortal creatures going through the same story over and over and over again.

But now I'm thinking... maybe reincarnation? Maybe after their Happy Endings (or not so happy endings, for villains) and the last page is flipped closed- the entire board resets. The characters turn to dust or something and new ones (the same characters, just looking a little different. This could explain why fairytale characters are rarely described with more specific features. Just 'beautiful', 'blonde', 'dashing', 'ugly', etc.) start over again at 'Once Upon a Time'. This would explain why no one ever remembers what's already happened (Or *cough* the uprising).

Another interesting thought- imagine if fairytale characters new looks are entirely based on whoever in Our World is telling the story. It's how They imagine them, just with the basic set guidelines I mentioned before.

I dunno if this is anything, if you already realised this or not, but I wanted to share 😅😅😅

I didn't realize this!! This actually helps out a plothole in my own headcannons; if the king and queen passed the throne on to their son, the prince, (which, according to the fan-wiki, a deleted scene reveals that the prince's name was Humperdink. Can you imagine??), then where are they? Were they the original Cinderella and Prince Charming?

With that, I raise you; What if the Fairytale characters' lives depend on either how long they can live, which is why they can still age. Once they are old enough, like the king and queen, they pass on the mantel of their story role befire turning into dust?

Or, leaning more towards what you said, their lives last as long as whoever is telling the story holds their book. For example, a parent telling their child Fairytales for years and years, or a teacher sharing a Fairytale one day for class. And, as you said, each storyteller winds up creating the storybook characters as they envision them? So the Prince could be a dashing, blonde hunk for years and years. Then the next storyteller may make him into a twiggy, redheaded prince for a week or so, etc.

But in that case, what about nobodies like Ricky? Or my OC Lizzie? Do THEY turn to dust?? Are they just figmants of the storytellers imagination to spice up the story (like maybe whoever was telling the Cinderella story in the movie wondered someone else Ella could fall in love with?). Or are they truly immortal?? Does Rick know what's going on because he's served sooo many princes?? What do you think? If you'd like to add to this ^^

I really really REALLY love this observation!!! We have to explore it more!!!

On a more self indulgent note; Imagine that, once it's the wolves' time, their S/O is right there watching them turn to dust? Whether they were trying to prepare for it or not, their S/O clings onto them; begging whoever will listen (the wizard, some God that's higher than him, anybody) to give them just a little more time. They're not ready! Don't take their love away!! But the S/O can only watch as their wolf/wolves crumble to dust, right after they exchange one final kiss or reassurance that everything will be ok in the end.

Sure, their wolf will come back. But what if it's different?? What if he/they don't fall in love with them?? Will he/they even remember them?? Who knows, really?

[if-loves]

consume

// Yandere Jiaoqiu

sum: The fastest way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. Or so they say.

wc: 871

warnings: written before jiaoqiu release (probably OOC jq), mentions of drugs and implied drugging, fem reader

a/n: sorry for the disappearance i had exams xd take whatever this is as compensation

likes & reblogs are appreciated :)

When Jiaoqiu loves, he does so wholly. He gives his heart and some, devotes his being, and allows the love to consume him. He feels the warmth rush over him, and he can’t help the smile that lives on his lips, the happiness that blooms in his chest.

He loves until he is squeezed dry, until the warmth disappears, until that happiness dies and the love spits him out; but he takes it all in stride, for as a foxian, his time in this mortal world is but a flicker compared to the rest of the Xianzhou’s inhabitants.

When Jiaoqiu meets you, he is instantaneously enamored. You are, to him, love personified, the one life in this universe made for him. He’s known it since the moment he saw you, and the feeling is only amplified when he speaks to you. Something in him, desperate and lovesick, calls for you.

You’re introduced as a healer from the Luofu, sent to the Yaoqing on an exchange between ships. You, like him, are a foxian, a pair of fluffy ears on the top of your head, and a cute bushy tail on your back. Naturally, you’re under his care.

While you are capable, you are also terribly shy around him. You only speak when spoken to, and you do your job dutifully, with no complaints. You’re independent, and Jiaoqiu can’t help but lament that. He wants you to depend on him, to see him as a reliable senior, someone you can turn to even if you’re not in a pinch. He wants you, yet you don’t seem to want him too.

So, he courts you the best way he knows how. There’s a saying that goes something like “the fastest to a person’s heart is through their stomach”, and although biologically inaccurate (the actual fastest way is through the veins), holds true - no one can resist food made with love, not even someone like you. Everyone must eat, and why pay for a meal when one sits in front of you for free?

The smile on his face is infectious.

~~~

With every passing day, the meals become more intricate. What started with simple stir fried dishes became more complex meals that could only be found in restaurants, all handmade by him. He watches as you eat all of them with a smile, happiness radiating off your figure as your ears twitch and your tail wags in unmistakable contentment. The food is good, yes. The drug has managed to slip in unnoticed as well.

It’s easy for him, really. Jiaoqiu doesn’t need to search for an alchemist, nor a chef. He is both, and he has more than enough knowledge and skills in both fields to be able to incorporate them in his work. Concocting a drug is just as easy as cooking a heartfelt meal, especially when it’s for the same person.

He is quite happy to know that you enjoy both.

~~~

It’s with a smile on your face that you tell him that you’ve applied to stay on the Yaoqing permanently, to stay by his side. You cite that learning under him was like exploring the galaxy, boundless knowledge awaiting you, and his home cooked meals always bring you warmth, like the embrace of a mother.

He takes all of your words to heart, a blush spreading across his face as you turn away. He vaguely feels his tail swaying drunkenly, and he feels like he’s the one who’s been drugged. He knows that this is the influence of the drugs he has been feeding you, but he cannot help but feel elated at your words. You complimented him… You want to stay because of him… You want to stay for him…

Jiaoqiu decides to invite you over for dinner, to celebrate the occasion.

~~~

Perhaps he went a bit overboard with the dose, or perhaps he wanted this to happen. Whatever the reason, Jiaoqiu has filled your meal with aphrodisiacs, and a lot more than usual.

To see them take so quickly was honestly a surprise to him, but he could not complain of the way you started to cling to him, digging your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. The heat radiating off of your body told him plenty, and he did not mind. No, he didn’t mind at all, not even a single bit.

When you lift your head from his neck, your lips meet his, a collision of desire and lust, born from expertly manipulated strings. When you part, a thin string of saliva connects the two of you, and Jiaoqiu thinks he would like to swallow you whole.

When he brings you to the most intimate room in his home, and when you show each other your most vulnerable sides, he thinks it’s okay if everything isn’t so natural. Healing nowadays is aided by many external factors, love is no different. All you needed was a little push, just like how people need a little medicine to help their bodies fight off their illnesses.

When his mouth finds the junction between your neck and your shoulder, he licks and sucks, and finally sinks his canines in.

You’d let him consume you whole, wouldn’t you?

[darqx]

Snakes on a post

Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.

(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)

That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.

Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;

So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.

So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.

He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.

Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.

Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.

And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)

both

In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.

Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.

I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360° (jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )

Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:

The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.

Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).

It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d

Not really

His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD

Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).

Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.

Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.

There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).

If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D

[krysmcscience]

BILLDUMP TIME (with transparency, because I can). Don't mind me, I'm just yeeting my goofy art at some way more talented individuals out of nowhere and then hauling ass back to the security of being a weird silent lurker ahaha

@tesscourtes and @beccadrawsstuff, respectively! These two Bills make a little prism of sorts together because of their recent crossovers on Patreon~ :3c Speaking of which, I highly recommend supporting both these artists! They do fantastic work! (TessCourtes and Beccup)

@qoolk on the left, and @monobmp on the right! I am such a sucker for these outfits~ OuO Go and check these two out, their art is phenomenal!!! >u<

@1spooky2me The most difficult Bill of the lot for me to draw, ahaha... Their art is so incredibly consistent and dynamic, I am, a little envious <:,) A little envious, but mostly impressed, so go look at their amazing art, what are you waiting for

And finally, @ckret2, whose writing is sublimely in-character and just a delight to read - they're a great artist, as well! I simply Could Not resist drawing their Bill in this ridiculous incredible and very fashionable pink feather dress, even though he only briefly wears it in their fic, so I also did a little bonus doodle of him in his standard hoodie to make up for it. XD (Also, as far as I'm concerned, Bill and Mabel were both correct in that lime green accessories make the dress Much Better.)

This is just a small selection of the human Bill designs I enjoy. I may draw and post more later on, who knows! Feel free to reblog with some neat Bill designs, either your own or by other folks - if any of the designs particularly call to me, I'll add them to the little list I've got going~ :D (Alternatively, if you really like my stuff and want me to draw something specific, you could...mmm...perhaps, commission me...? OuO)

Also I'm tagging Billford because uhhhh yeah, sorry not sorry, every single one of these Bills is getting shipped with Ford by the artists in some way or another, lmao

[christinebloodwrittings]

I ran into this little darling who wanted this as a request, and I just couldn't help myself hehe, my Hobie Brown brainrot is huge xD

So I hope you enjoy it, I suck at writing his accent so, I'm sorry in advance hehe, and also Y/n is always the victim so let's shake things up a bit.

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, unwanted drug, p in v, oral, cursing, a very drugged Hobie.

Words: 2530

Summary: Everything was going great at the concert until he went against a very dangerous perfume.

You've never felt comfortable or safe among so many people, especially in a space as small as the bars where he usually plays. But there you were, supporting him as always.

At some point in the evening, thirst had invaded you, so you asked the bartender for some water or soda, who gladly served it to you and so far so good.

"Hey beautiful, how was it?" Hobie had pushed his way through the crowd and groupies to the chair where you'd cornered to watch him play. "Loud and protestant, perfect" with emotion he hugged you, pressing your whole body against his chest, his chin resting on your head.

"I'm goin' to go to the back, store some things with the band, I'll be back to pick you up in a bit, 'kay?" Despite the fact that nothing between you and Hobie was formalized, there was a lot of affection and consideration towards the other, however he always presented you as his friend.

And how much it hurt

He always came to your rescue when some jerk made a move on you, but after that you were just his friend, and he did it because he had your back, but nothing more.

That was really getting old.

Hobie made his way through the fans again, when a girl dressed in leather and a mini stopped him, one of her hands took his face, the other grabbed the back of his neck to force him to bend him down to kiss him, but he resisted, separated from the girl's hands with a push, and he moved away fast.

After managing to get past the stage, he tripped on his feet, his mind was all over the place and his spider-sense told him something was awfully wrong. A cold feeling caught on his neck, panic crawled up his spine, he put his fingers to the back of his neck, scooping up some of a watery, clear liquid, it had a nice smell so he just assumed it was the girl's cologne.

He was in denial, so he just wanted to think there was a raid outside and he´ll have to take you round the back so you wouldn't be hurt by mistake. He didn't exactly convinced himself but it was enough to get him a bit calmed through the whole packing the band stuff up.

Right at the end, when he was picking his makeup supplies off, his sense froze him up and made him look up, in the mirror he caught on the sight of the girl that had tried to make a move on him.

The fans were leaving, soon the place was empty, Hobie was taking a lot of time more than usual, thus why you began to worry and why you went to the dressing room to find him.

That was the moment when you saw his panic eyes and the girl attempting to get her tongue down her throat. "Get the fuck away from him, bitch!" you pulled her hair and punched her on the gut to get her out of movements.

"You're my savior" he put his arm around you, being that the only way he could make a decent step, "Get out of the way whore, it will last long after I'm finished with him, then you can get your way with him" she stood up hardly, but didn't approached further, since you got out a taser, "You know, I bet no one will miss you if I just shock your senses into oblivion and toss your bitch body into the garbage" she opened her eyes to your lashing and stood there.

With a few extra help from members of the band, they managed to get him to your place in one piece, you weren't going to let him go off alone in that state.

That's when you understood, she drugged him somehow. "It's okay, Hobs, let's get you in the shower" cold water seemed to be the less weird way to handle his condition.

His hand found yours, pulling by it you hit his chest, looking up you found his face all blushed and sweaty, "It's okay, it will wear itself off, just stay" you cupped his face with your free hand, he leaned over your touch with his eyes closed, "Please?" His voice was so smooth and whiny, never in your life have you seen him like that.

"I'll stay, let's get you into something more comfortable ok?" He nodded, lazily getting out of his leather jacket and vest, leaving you to slip away his shirt, "Woah baby, if ya' wanted to get me naked, you should've asked" he had a shit eating grin, ear to ear, "Shut up, you're out of your senses" you folded the shirt lazily and left it on a chair he has discarded on a corner, so did his pants and socks, it seemed to you that removing his underwear was going a little too far, so you ignored them.

You tried to guide him to the bathroom, but he just wouldn't move from the bed, "C'mon Hobs, let's go" he refused with a whine, so you leave him there to go fill up the tub in the meantime.

You figured he would be in a different disposition when you returned to the room. A couple of minutes went by, *he probably passed out asleep* you hoped, but as soon as you opened the door of the bathroom, the sound of his moans filled your ears.

"Ah~ Y/N~♡" you couldn't believe what was happening. Taking a quick peek at him you noticed his boxers were discarded somewhere in the room, and he was stroking himself, his rather large self.

And moaning your name, *Oh God, please tell me this is a test! * heat was crawling up from your legs to your face, his moans were incredibly sexy and erotic, that was going to be well fit material for a lot of nights in the future.

"Y/n please, I need you, pretty please darling~♡" He sounded so desperate. You stepped outside the bathroom, and as soon as his eyes caught sight of you, a loving smile was painted on his face.

"I'm in a tight conundrum" he fought with his own tongue to word that out coherently, but you understood, "I feel like I'm taking advantage of you" He shook his head, making grab gestures with his hands.

As soon as you were in within his reach, he pulled you into his lap, emitting a hiss when your pelvis brushed his hard dick. "Please, I need you" He peppered kisses under your jaw and cheek, every contact on his lips and his piercing made you shiver.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, toyed with it for a second before looking up into your eyes for permission, after your embarrassed nod, he pulled it off, carelessly taking your bra as well and throwing both items away.

He started by nibbling at your collarbone, leaving small red marks along his way up to your neck. "I've wanted to do this for a long time" He panted, biting softly at your earlobe making you shift on his lap.

"You're so beautiful, so sweet, so lovely, you're always there for me" he said before kissing you, taking full control of your mouth. His hand circled your waist and the other held your neck in place, making you melt into the kiss. He then tilted his head back a bit, taking in the way you looked.

The he pulled up your shirt, he was clumsy while at it, so you finished for him, the bra following it into the darkness of a corner. The festival of kisses and bites started from your neck to every inch of your collarbone, working his way down to capture a nipple in between his lips.

His hands rocked your hips against his bulge, making his voice sing with moans and sighs, calling your name.

"I need you to say it"

"What?"

"I love you too much, say I can do this"

"Do it Hobie"

He released you, reluctantly. You tried to put yourself in a comfortable position, so you got rid of your jeans, his eyes followed each of your movements, even more so when you stood next to him.

"Where do you want me?" He didn't think twice, he pulled you by the waist to accommodate you, with his muscular body on top of yours. It was kind of silly, saying that, but with the few sexual experiences you'd had, none of them 100 percent complete, you really didn't know what to say or do. He, even in his drugged and frenzied state, noticed your shivering hands and how much you avoided looking into his eyes.

"I wish I could make it slow and special for you, but I don't feel like myself" you agreed, it's what you could do, the truth, you were uncomfortable because of the situation, the heat, not that any of those factors made you forget to have a condom nearby.

As he sensually kissed your neck, his fingers worked to open you up, slow and steady movements, his thumb brushing against your clit from time to time. Your senses were being attacked simultaneously, his teeth and his mouth sucking at the skin of your neck, and his fingers caressing your G-spot with the dexterity of a guitar player. Your back arched against his torso, an opportunity he took to hold your waist with his arm and lead you to sit on his lap, his hand still pleasing.

"Hobs, I need you" you whined, he smiled, mouth still latching down your neck, leaving several red spots along the way. Your legs were straddling his hips as he helped you get down on his dick, the length and thickness made you squirm and stop midways, he always reassured you, “You’re doing it very good, my love, just a little bit more, I’ll let you accommodate to it” speaking sweetly, brushing your hair away from your face and caressing your cheek.

When it was all the way in, very painfully so, he didn’t made any single attempt to move or you on it, he wanted to wait for you to be ready. As soon as you were, giving that you were rocking your hips slightly, he started pulling you up and down at a slow pace.

Moans and whines were filling the room, “Fuck, you feel so good” he bit gently into your shoulder, “I’m gonna lay you down princess, I need a-“, you pointed to your night stand, “Prepared are we?” he purred as he softly put you down on the covers, grabbed the condom and put it on.

“You can be more aggressive if you need” your voice came out almost as a whisper, but he caught it anyways, “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just want it to be decent” he was holding back, “Hobie, we need to get the drug out, please” Bad way for you to find out, but he had a creative thought, without thinking twice, he put your hands on your head and used his webs to tie your wrists together. Obviously your thoughts were snatched away when he propped inside again, soon the fact that he was Spider-Punk was long forgotten.

His pace accelerated, your whole body tensed up and you just wanted to be connected to him, you just wanted to keep kissing him, hugging him, if it ended and you were never like that with him again, you wouldn't know what to do. You just wanted to be like this with him, hitting every place that mattered, sending electric shocks through your body.

At some point you seemed to have passed out, but the change of position woke you straight up. On your fours, his hands pushed his shaft right into you by your hips, then he pulled you up, his arm working like an anchor across your chest, which by the way, was covered in saliva, red spots and bite marks, and so will your back as soon as he is over with it.

He wasn’t behind with the hickeys, you subconsciously left him lots of open mouth kisses, bites, he was fairly happy with each and every one.

“I know you’re tired, my love, but I’m almost there” your moans didn’t even sounded as such, they were grunts, sloppy non sexy at all choked grunts. You guys started around eleven, by the time he was almost there the clock marked three in the morning.

He finally came inside the condom, the one that by some miracle stayed on and unbroken though all the abuse the thick shaft made in your insides. Speaking of which, he was considerate enough to come out of you carefully and lovingly accommodate your body into his.

“Thank you, love” he slurred the words, his body was so big next to yours, so he easily surrounded you, arms around you, legs intertwined, he wanted all you to be with all of him.  

“How do you feel?” your voice was hoarse, “Better, tired, you?” you made a sound, it confirmed to him that you were the same as him.

"I'm still very on, I wanna eat you out" he hugged you tightly, "Maybe let me sleep a bit and then you wake me up with your face in between my legs" he laughed at you, "I'll take you up on that, love".

Around seven pinches on the insides of your thighs woke you up, turns up he really was in between your legs, hickeys adorning both inner thighs, "Good mornin' luv" he wasn't drugged anymore, just horny and hungry, giving on how he was licking and grinning.

Your back arched as soon as your brain connected with the rest of your senses, "Hobie, jeez fuck! Too damn early" you whined, getting hold of his hair, "I just obliged to your wishes" the vibrations made the assault even more intense.

"Don't talk with your mouth full" he was kind of liking the slight yanking you were taking on his hair, furthermore the tremble down your legs as you came.

"I love your sounds" he crawled up your body, gently laying down on top of you, his weight never fully on you though, he was careful, and his head fell down on the crook of your neck.

"Thank you for last night" he laced his voice with kisses behind your ear, "No problem, now please for fucks sake, sleep" he chuckled at your groggy voice, "I meant it, by the way" given your lack of response he pulled his body off of you for a bit, just to get a fair look at you face when he spoke those words that died already to come off his lips again.

"I love you" and then he smiled.

"And I love you" somehow, him being all bare for you, your case as well, made the confession deeper.

"Just so you know, you're trapped now, I'm not letting you go now" his smirk made you giggle a little, "Good, there's just nowhere I rather be than here...with you".

The end.

[thememestrider]

Inspired by @solspina and their wonderful Dante fics- sis thank you for giving our beautiful depressed angel man the love he deserves, and I hope my fic will be worthy of adding to the library.

"Let Me Take Care of You" - Dante x Reader

Sypnosis: Dante is reeling from wounds he sustained during the Devastation of Baal, both physical and psychological. Thankfully, though, you are there to help pick up the pieces.

Author's Note: I've decided to make the reader a perpetual because I hc that Dante would struggle to fall in love with someone he knew he would outlive (poor man has been thru so much) has no real bearing over the plot of the fic, but thought it was worth noting.

Content Warnings: Angst, reverse hurt/comfort, pre-established relationship, general 40k-ness, descriptions of blood and wounds, lore inaccuracies, Dante is a very tired and traumatised boi, reader is G/N but I wrote them as a female in my mind, I wrote this at midnight while on a plane, so this isn't edited or proofread XD

Across his hundreds of centuries of service, Dante has become many things. To his brothers, he is their stalwart leader; to the people of the Imperium, he is a legend; to the enemies of humanity, he is an angel of death. But to you, he is none of these things. To you, he is your husband. Your beloved. The man you hold most close to your heart. That means that, when he leaves for a mission, where others anticipate victory, you worry for his safety. And, when he finally returns home, you rush to him, not to congratulate him on his victory, but to study him for injury or distress. More often than not, you will find nothing.

Tonight is different.

You're in bed when he arrives, quietly reading a book borrowed from his library. The door slides open with a hiss, and you look up to see your husband standing in the doorway of your shared quarters. His hair falls over his shoulders in thick curtains of black and silver and he's dressed in a red robe that's sinched at his waist. It accentuates the sculpt of his chest and shoulders beautifully, but that is not what draws your eye. Rather, it is the darkness under his soft, hazel eyes, and the way he is hunched slightly over his left side. Without looking away, you shut your book with a snap.

"You're hurt," you say.

Dante smiles tiredly. "It's nothing, my love," he says. Closing the door behind him, he starts towards the bed. Before he reaches it, though, you throw of the covers, climb out of bed, and meet him half way. You kiss him lightly on the lips in greeting, snaking your arms around his waist as you do. "It doesn't look like nothing," you say into his shoulder. "You going to tell me what happened?" As you embrace him, an involuntary sigh escapes Dante's lips. You feel him lean into you, as if all of a sudden, he could not stand without you holding him up. Despite your lingering concern, it makes you smile. You squeeze him a little tighter.

Suddenly Dante's sigh becomes a grimace.

You pull away, throat tightening as your worry returns with a vengeance. "I knew it," you whisper.

"Sweetheart, it's nothing" Dante says again. "I promise, I-"

He winces again, face turning pale. Suddenly he's unsteady on his feet and staggers forwards. You manage to catch him just in time. "Easy, easy. I've got you." A white lie; all that muscle and cybernetic enhancement of his makes Dante unbearably heavy. Already, your entire upper body is shaking trying to keep him upright. Of course, you don't tell him that. Nor to you allow him to see it.

"I'm sorry," Dante says. He sounds breathless. "I... I'm just fatigued, is all."

"No point lying to me now," you murmur. "Come on. Bed. Now."

Dante makes a sound of exasperation, but he doesn't resist. Carefully, you guide him towards your bed, easing him down to sit on its edge. The frame creaks under his weight. Dante winces again as he sits down. One of his hands shoots up to clutch the left side of his chest.

Crouching before him, you touch his cheek with your palm. "Will you let me see?"

Dante doesn't answer right away. For a moment, you're afraid he's about to argue with you. But either he's in too much pain to bother, or he sees the defiance in your eyes and realises it would be futile.

"Left pectoral," he croaks. "Just below my primary heart."

Your own heart falters. That's the same place he had been wounded during the Devastation of Baal- where a tyranid Swarm Lord had sliced him open and left him for dead. With a feather-light touch, you peel open Dante's robe. Slipping it off his shoulders to expose his bare chest.

His muscles are tense, the hollows of his collar bones deepening as he clenches his jaw. It's as you suspected- the gash carved into him by the Swarm Lord has ruptured. The skin around the wound is angry and inflamed. Blood trickles over his chest and down his stomach in thin streams.

Dante sees the look on your face and attempts a smile. "I must've reopened it while in combat," he says. "But I swear, it isn't as bad as it looks."

You give him an unamused look. "No," you answer. "No, I think it's worse."

Dante opens his mouth to retort, but you cut him off. "Don't move. I'll be back in a second." You get to your feet and hurry to the ensuite, gathering up the first aid kit you have reserved for situations such as this. When you return, your husband is leaned forwards and breathing hard. His skin is now the colour of a corpse.

Anxiety climbs up your throat at the sight of him like this, but you swallow it with a gulp. Now is not the time for worry anymore; you have a job to do.

You crouch in front of Dante again and set the first aid kit down beside you. Gently, you bring your hands to his face. "Luis," you whisper. "Luis, look at me."

He lifts his head. His expression is a mix of pain and shame. "I'm alright," he says softly. "Really. I just-" he grimaces. "-I just need a moment."

You struggle to keep your eyes from watering. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You know Dante struggles with the weight of responsibility: as a chapter master, as a lord regent, as a living legend of the Imperium. All these duties- all of which enough to break most men on their own- have no room for weakness or weariness. And the fact that Dante holds himself to a standard nigh impossible to achieve, even for him, only adds to the already crushing weight he has carried for over one thousand years. Carried for so long, he sometimes forgets that when he's with you, he can shed that weight for a time.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you lean in close until your foreheads kiss. Despite his earlier insistances, Dante melts at the touch. His shoulders sag. The muscles of his chest release. After a moment, he even closes his eyes.

"This wound is old," he suddenly says. "It should have healed weeks ago."

You raise you head so you can meet his gaze. "You haven't given it the chance to; the second you were awake, you were back in the field. You should've been bed ridden for weeks. Throne, you should be bed ridden now."

Dante averts his eyes. "I couldn't." His voice is little more than a murmur. "I can't."

Still cupping his cheeks in both hands, you plant a long, loving kiss on his lips. When you pull away, you say, "You're tired, Luis. You're hurt. And you can't do your job when you're either, let alone both. I know you hate to admit it, but it's the truth."

Dante doesn't reply. His eyes remain firmly on the floor.

"Luis, please look at me." You use his given name rather than that favoured by everyone else. To remind him that you aren't everyone else. That the mask of strength and infallibility he puts on for the rest of the galaxy can come off when he's with you.

Eventually, your husband lifts his gaze. The expression you find there makes you want to drag him into your arms and hold him there forever. It also makes you resent the Imperium and the galaxy as a whole for causing him this much hurt. Fearing you might cry if you didn't, you kiss him again. Longer and more deeply than any time before. Dante returns the kiss in kind, using his free hand to gently grasp your chin and keep you close. You breathe in his scent, feel him do the same. He's the first to pull away, but it's only because another, involuntary grimace suddenly grips him.

"You need to rest now, Luis," you say once he recovers. "You need to rest and you need to heal. Let me take care of you. You deserve it. By the Emperor, if anyone in the world deserves it, it's you."

Dante looks at you with so much affection and gratitude, it makes your heart stammer. Tilting his head, he leans into your palms and closes his eyes again. "I don't know how I managed for so long without you," he whispers.

You plant a kiss on his forehead. "You'll never have to again," you promise.

Eyes still closed, he only nods.

Slowly, as if afraid you might wake him, you reach for the first aid kit and extract a needle, sutures and anti-septic spray. "Right, let's get you stitched up, then. You've bled all over our bed enough already, I think."

Dante huffs out a single, smirking laugh. "Please, my love. Don't kick me while I'm down."

You smile. It falters slightly as you raise your impliments. "Okay, my love. Brace yourself; this might sting a little."

Dante opens one eye. "Trust me," he says ruefully. "It can't hurt anymore than it already does."

A/N: I didn't really know how to end it properly, so sorry if it feels a bit abrupt.

[ninma]

I just noticed a very interesting note in Alastor's ad in episode 1...

Who in Hazbin Hotel is the most associated with circus decor?

Lucifer.

Less than 5 min into episode 1 and we already get a hint that Alastor isn't a big fan of Lucifer.

Which is interesting because it implies that Alastor disliked Lucifer before he even involved himself with the hotel. They hadn't even met yet.

It's such a weirdly specific thing to add to a commercial too. Because when I think hotel, circus decor wouldn't be anywhere on my list of expectations.

It's clearly targeted towards Lucifer. An indirect insult Alastor probably had wanted Lucifer to see.

If this is the case, some of Alastor's commentary can be looked at slightly differently.

Lines like "Lucifer's delusional daughter", "Daddy issues" and the other insulting commentary can then also be partly aimed at Lucifer.

Which would probably be effective hits because Lucifer definitely wouldn't be happy about someone offending his daughter, but the "Daddy issues" line would probably make him feel guilt.

It's as if Alastor wanted to pick a fight the first chance he got to potentially reach Lucifer.

But like...why?

In episode 5 we have a reasonable explanation for why Alastor is poking at Lucifer. Alastor likes to be in control and have power over others, however even he knows Lucifer is more powerful than him. Therefore he aims at Lucifer's relationship with Charlie (which is what the dad comments are really about) to regain some of that power.

Which is why it doesn't make any sense for him to indirectly target Lucifer in episode 1.

Why pick a fight with the King of Hell when he barely had anything to hold over Lucifer?

When this ad was made, Charlie had known Alastor for only a week and therefore claiming to be close to her would be weird.

Heck, Alastor is even insulting Charlie and the hotel here, which definitely doesn't give him any favour from her.

Another point could be that Alastor is also partly annoyed at having to make a video. He probably doesn't expect it to air. But that still doesn't explain why he'd deliberately add a note directed at Lucifer.

So.....What's the deal here Alastor?

There isn't a clear reason for doing this.

The only one I can guess that makes some sense is that Alastor just wanted to feel some sense of power by indirectly insulting Lucifer, who is the most powerful being in all of Hell. Getting a chance to hit him where it hurts would probably bring Alastor a lot of satisfaction.

Another option is that it could be related to Lilith, if she turned out to be the one he made a deal with. It could be that Alastor's frustration over his deal makes him want to take it out on Lucifer (since he obviously can't take it out on Charlie). Lilith telling him to do it is possible, but I find it unlikely. Unless her real motive was pushing Lucifer out of his isolation and back into Charlie's life. Still find it unlikely tho.

In the end, it still feels weird for Alastor to be this intent on picking on Lucifer this early on. Taking advantage of the first opportunity to have a message reach Lucifer, despite Alastor neither having power or leverage over him if Lucifer had responded.

So...Alastor...

Care to spill the tea on why you're being so pissy?

(Sorry, couldn't resist-)

EDIT: I just realized how funny it is that despite saying there is no tacky circus decor, the hotel itself is FULL of it XD

Now that I think about it, that might actually be the joke behind the note.

(Admittedly, this might just be a fun bit of foreshadowing and doesn't really have any deeper meaning)

(Also, Lucifer's circus decor isn't tacky. I'd definitely be down for staying at a hotel with his aesthetic and decor. But, maybe that's just me)

(It kinda reminds me of how Vox immediately went to send a message to Alastor on TV the moment he learned of his return XD)

[mrabubu]

Soo question I’m curious, how did Ana eventually end up dying? Seeing as we’re following the canon 🥲 I hope her and Leo were together at the end least.. also did F!Leo and Ana eventually ever get married? Like no ceremony but did there come a point where they were like ok yeh I guess were husband and wife now lol and freaked everyone out when they jsut out of the blue switched up how they address each other from “this is is my boyfriend/girlfriend” to “this is my wife/husband”

.

Also Oof poor junior he just lost his moms twice 🥲

So, I had a few ideas.

One sticks to the original ending of the movie, and in this case she died not long before the resistance failed. I thought about that their base got attacked, and during the evacuation, and shielded Leo with her body.

If changing the ending, during it, Ana would join Casey, Leo and Mikey right before Leo say about time gateway. After giving Casey the instructions, Leo would turn to Ana and say that he's sorry about how he failed to give them a better future. She says it's okay, and that she'll buy them as much time as she can before rushing towards the Kraang hounds to fight them so they wouldn't interrupt Mikey.

I've been actually working a bit on a fake Rise movie screenshots of some scenes. This is just one of them, but I'm planning on drawing more once I get more of free time.

I had the idea that Leo might've dodged the laser that we saw after he threw Casey into the portal. Then, Ana covered him from the next attack of the Kraang titan. It pierced her with it's claw then threw to the side. Leo would ran to her and took into his arms. Realizing she's dying, he would panic but Ana would reassure him it's okay. Making sure Casey got to the portal, she would smile at Leo, saying they've done all they could. Leo would smile and kiss her one last time before the next laser got them both.

So, yeah, Ana getting pierced is kinda of a canon event xd

About the wedding, the theme of the final round of the tmnt oc x canon competition is wedding, so, yeah, I'm planning on drawing another comic. Already got the idea.)

[ramblingoak]

Inspiration

For @writingjourney who requested a kiss from Secondo on a "place of insecurity" from this list.

Secondo x Reader

~ Your Papa notices you have been struggling writing a speech and does his best to help you... ~

Warnings: sappy and soft and sweet secondo, a bit of a play on the 'place of insecurity' but i think it works xD, reader is gn but i do use dolcezza as an endearment, sfw, 1,400k words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

“Quit that.”

At Secondo’s stern voice you froze, holding your breath and clenching your pen in your fist.  You didn’t dare meet his gaze, knowing exactly what you’d see as soon as you looked at him: disappointment.

“Papa, I wasn–”

“You were.”  You winced at the edge to his tone, something he must have noticed because he cleared his throat and continued in a much softer voice.  “I can always tell.”

There was a fleeting moment in which you wanted to argue, to disagree that he didn’t know you as well as he thought.  But despite how it could catch you off guard at times it also made you feel cared for.  Wanted.  To have someone, especially someone like Papa Secondo Emeritus, know you so well to be able to see what was going on.

“Sorry, Papa.”

His chair creaked and when you dared a glance his way you saw him walking towards your desk.  It was late in the day so he was just in his suit pants and white button up, the robes long gone and probably in a heap at the bottom of his closet.  The paint on his face was smudged, especially around his eyes and mouth, and your fingers twitched wanting to grab a makeup brush and fix it.

“You do not need to apologize to me, dolcezza.”  He knelt down next to your chair with a quiet groan, wincing when his knees popped audibly.  Leather covered hands reached out for the arms of your chair and he easily spun it so you were facing him.  With a gentle touch he lifted a hand up and swiped his thumb across your forehead.  “What’s going on in there, hmm?”

Feigning ignorance wouldn’t work, it never did with him, so you sighed, your body deflating and slouching in the chair before you answered, “I just-I just can’t get this right.”

“Get what right?”  When you gestured vaguely at your desk he straightened up to glance at the mess of papers across it, grabbing one to quickly look it over and then turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow.  “The speech?  It’s just a silly thing for mass, you’ve written them before.”

“Yes but this one is important.  Don’t roll your eyes at me Papa, it’s true!”

“Important how?  Because of those imbellici from Rome?”

“They’re not imbeciles!”  You slapped Secondo’s hand away when he picked up a page that was mostly doodles.  “And even if they were, they're still the ones in charge of funding.”

“So?”

“So?  Are you even listening?”  When he rolled his eyes you barely resisted the urge to stab him in the neck with your pen.  “This needs to be perfect, absolutely perfect, so we can secure more funding for the church.”

You turned away from him and stared down at your desk.  It was taking all your concentration not to cry, especially as you looked over your notes and half-written paragraphs.  Secondo wasn’t getting it.  This was why you were here, not just in his office but at the church.  You were hired to help with writing speeches, press releases and anything of the sort.  If you failed at this, why would they keep you around?

Why would Secondo keep you around?

“Dolcezza?”  When you didn’t answer him he turned your chair again, his hands resting on your knees.  He gave each a brief squeeze before slowly moving them up your thighs until they stopped at your hips.  Only then did you look his way, immediately getting trapped by those gorgeous eyes of his.  “Shut up.”

“Hey!”

“No, you will shut up and listen to me.  Okay?”  He raised an eyebrow when you stayed silent, only continuing when you finally nodded your head.  “You are incapable of anything but perfection.  So I need you to stop listening to whatever the voice in your head is telling you and I need you to listen to me.  Can you do this?”

“Yes, Papa.”

Secondo gave you a small smile before bringing his hands up to cradle your face.  When he leaned close and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead your breath caught in your throat.

“You are an extraordinary writer, amore.  Far better than anyone else here.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a speech for mass or something for the weekly newsletter, everything you do is perfetto.”  He kissed you again in the same spot, this time his lips pressed more firmly into your skin.  Like he could somehow transfer his words straight to your brain.  When he pulled away he tilted your face up and your breath hitched again when you saw he was smiling.  “Although I am especially fond of the bitchy emails you send Copia when he goes over budget.”

“Well, he deserves every one of those.”  

You gave him a watery smile before ducking your head and sniffling.  Secondo’s kind words surrounded you, much like his arms were as he wrapped them around your back and held you close.  He rubbed his hands up and down your back reassuringly until you had your emotions under control, eventually leaning back in your chair.  Secondo took a moment to swipe at the tears on your cheeks before cupping your face again, holding you still so he could lean in to kiss your lips this time.  There was a twinkle in his eyes when he pulled away, the makeup on his lips even more smudged than before.

No doubt your lips didn’t look any better.

“Perhaps a change of scenery will help?  What do you think?”

“Scenery?”  Secondo stood up and started gathering all your papers, ignoring you when you tried to stop him.  “You’re messing them up.  Papa, wait!”

With your work in one hand he reached out with his other and grabbed one of yours, tugging you towards the door to his office.

“How does my room sound?”

“It sounds like a place where I'm not going to get much work done.”

At the door Secondo turned to you, a wicked smirk on his face as he dragged his eyes up and down your body.  

“Then it’s a good thing I’ll be there to keep you on task, hmm?”

You snorted, moving past him to open the door and move out into the hallway.  He gave your ass a light pat as you went by but you kept your eyes forward as you started to walk towards his quarters.  Perhaps a little break would help clear your head.  When you glanced back to sneak a look at him you couldn’t help but look him up and down as well.  Your Papa looked handsome and sinful as he followed behind you.  Like a gift from Lucifer himself.  

A gift just for you.

With a grin you started to pick up the pace, your footsteps echoing around the otherwise empty hallway.  Secondo was close behind you and when you blindly held a hand out towards him he quickly enveloped it in one of his own.  Words were starting to swirl through your head, ideas for the speech tumbling over themselves.  You needed to get to his room so you could write them down before you forgot.

“Hurry, Papa!” 

“See?  I’m helping already.”

You looked back at him, not surprised to see him wearing a familiar smug smile.  Under any other circumstances it would have annoyed you like it usually did but right now?  Right now you were nothing but thankful for it.  He grunted when you turned and flung your arms around his neck, his own arms quickly going around your waist.  Before he could ask what you were doing you were kissing him, making even more of a mess of his makeup.  

“What can I say, Papa?  You inspire me.”  He was still looking smug when you pulled away with the bitter taste of his makeup on your tongue.  “Quit that.”

“Just happy I could help, dolcezza.”

“Of course, Papa.  What would I do without you?”

When you turned to start walking again he stopped you, his arms pulling you back towards him.  His features had softened a bit, although at this point with how messy his makeup was he did look rather ridiculous. 

“Luckily for us we won’t have to find out, will we?”

“No, Papa.”  You couldn’t resist kissing him again.  His chin, his lips, his beautiful nose…anywhere you could reach before you finally pulled away, your hands coming up to cup his face.  “We won’t.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[beannoss]

Hi Bean!

I have a question for you! I have noticed in your writings that Twilight and Yor begin a romantic relationship after their secrets are revealed. Are you opposed to any romance between them before they find out? I assume if so, it’s because it’s morally questionable, though a lot of fans find romance before compelling as it raises the stakes considerably. I’m not suggesting one is right and the other is wrong, I’m just interested in your take on this! I love your writing! Thank you! 😊

Hello you! I'm always chuffed to see your name pop up 🫶😊!

Oh boy! Thank you for this ask — it's a big question but also I do have thoughts XD Sorry it's taken me a few days to get my ducks in a row!

I want to start, though, by emphasising that my thoughts and preferences here are exclusive to Spy x Family as a canon enterprise; they don't pertain to fanworks or other fan theories, I'm not out to yuck anyone's yum ✌️ ditto for even my own writing! You're right that I don't really have an interest in exploring that dynamic but I reserve the right to change my mind ;)!

[Reference herein to manga chapters not yet animated]

Right, so. There's lots of things I love about SxF, but one of the things that interested me early and keeps me engaged is that it operates under an interesting and complex morality. Spy work and contract killing are obviously an ethical minefield, and in the real world, generally to the bad. Within the world of SxF, Endo takes pains to write Twilight and Yor both firmly on the morally right side, even if Twilight’s tactics or Yor’s actions in a vacuum are frequently questionable. With Twilight especially it seems Twilight is currently (resisting) working through the impact and ethical implication of his actions on Anya. When it comes to Yor, I expect that’s where we’ll see him wrestle with similar questions through a romance lens. I think it was quite deliberate and important that Twilight specifically articulated that he’d been wondering if Yor had previous romantic relationships, and that it was now confirmed she hadn’t. As far as I can remember, it’s the only time he’s had that sort of reflection on Yor's life before the Forgers; I mention it because it mirrors times he’s reflected explicitly on Anya’s history and trauma and her needs as a child, with implication that his actions and motivations for adopting her could/probably will hurt her. I hazard that his observation about Yor will be similarly indicative of an arc down the line.

When it comes to canon, if the Yor x Twilight romance were to firm up while Yor still believes Twilight is Loid, I admit there’s a high chance I’d nope out. I want to emphasize firm up though… I tend to think Yor already has feelings for Loid (Twilight?) whether she’s fully aware of them or would necessarily articulate them as romantic (and I think this is being really interestingly conveyed and explored through her current feelings about kissing, though I may differ with some on how I think that may shake out). I also think there’s a… less high but not impossible chance that Twilight is aware he has or is developing feelings for Yor. I’ve argued before that he knows he has formed/is forming an attachment to her and that he knows he trusts her. I don’t think it’s too far from there to romantic feelings for Twilight: after all, attachment and trust (intimacy) are not things he's had in a long, long time. And given his current pseudo-short temper and general malaise comes out most with Anya, with Yor he’s been notably softer and more receptive. In my view, this is partially because so far he hasn't really done much that would really hurt Yor and nor has she done anything that would really hurt Twilight. So far, Twilight and Yor are on a fairly even footing.

This is a very long way of saying that I trend toward thinking we’ve got at least a few toes into the romance already.

The reasons I’d be a squicked by the firming up of the romance, pre-reveal, are related to its being morally questionable as you pointed out (I'll talk a bit more about that in a moment.) But it's also because I think it would undermine character arcs and dominant themes.

Twilight’s arc involves finding and forging a new pack, a new family. Somewhere safe and loving that he’s been denied essentially for his whole life (I don’t dispute that his mother loved him deeply and did her best to protect him: living with an abuser and then with her under war was never going to actually be or feel safe). A big part of this safety and love for Twilight is about being accepted, warts and all. Twilight started lying because he wasn’t accepted by his father as he was. There’s a fair bit to work through by way of accepting Twilight’s warts already — I think Yor will be fairly understanding as things currently stand, and that’s part of why they’re a good match. Their moral compasses, their sacrifices, how they see the world and how they want to try and make it better, align and/or resonate in foundational ways. However, given their current standing, pursuing deeper intimacy of a romantic/sexual relationship with Yor before reveals, I think would take it past the line. And particularly when considering Yor’s character arc.

Yor’s arc is also around finding love and security, but centred less around acceptance (although that obviously also explicitly features!) and more around self-worth and understanding her value. If the romance were to firm up pre-reveal, the false pretences are… I mean, to me, they lob a Molotov cocktail into that theme of self-worth and being valued, as she really would just be being used: the intimacy could never be real because Twilight is not Loid Forger. To expand a bit on an earlier point, perhaps ironically, Yor’s relationship with Loid is mostly on the up-and-up: they both know any marital connection they demonstrate is fake. They may be (are) friends, and also they’re under no illusions that it’s something of a tenuous friendship (at least for now). They co-parent Anya but are clear that this co-parenting comes with clear lines around and between their relationship otherwise. I want to tread mindfully here, because I also really like and appreciate aroace interpretations of Yor and Twilight and their relationship: I think this discussion around firming up their romance actually also holds true in the case of attempting to substantially deepen their platonic bond, pre-reveal. In the same ways, Twilight needing acceptance and Yor learning self-worth would be severely undermined by a pre-reveal apparent and false deepening of their commitment to one another.

On the point of it being morally questionable generally, yeah it is. I mean, look, it's fiction and they aren't real people who can be hurt by those actions. So in principle, Endo can write what story he wants, I wouldn't think it reflected poorly on him or anything like that. I just don't really want to read a story that goes to that place; it’s a squick. I'm sure this has been discussed before in fandom, but my read on the moral dubiety centres around the idea that it isn’t possible to actively choose or meaningfully consent to emotional or physical intimacy when one person is lying about who they are (and in this case, they're both lying about who they are... Although Twilight to a greater extent). This does tie back into SxF themes as well, as choice and consent are also… maybe not big themes of SxF exactly, but active choice and informed consent are things which have come up more than once (I have my thoughts as to why: for a character whose choices drive so much of the narrative, Twilight is actually also a character who’s shown to have little actual choice or control over much of his own life. Considering his motivations for a world where children don’t cry, imo valuing active choice and meaningful consent are important factors required for that world. And I also actually suspect the theme of choice will become more important the more we learn about Donovan, and his role as foil for Twilight.)

Also, honestly for me, it would be too close to a common trope in a lot of popular western fiction/media that I don’t like: a woman being taken advantage of by a man in some way, shape or form, and then through the magic of her non-specific womanness, forgiving him his gross transgressions under the thinnest of pretences. Particularly as Endo has already taken pains to sidestep that as a foundation of their arrangement. To be fair, I wouldn't be surprised that were Endo to take the pre-reveal romance path, it would be a deeper interpretation of that trope, but as with other sexist tropes utilised in pop fiction/media, I have to ask why the choice couldn’t have been for a more interesting path, rather than retreading that one. And particularly given everything he's established for Twilight and Yor: it goes against much of what Twilight stands for — and indeed goes against much of what he meaningfully brings in his current relationship with Yor, that of encouraging her, supporting her, and shoring up her thoughts, opinions and self-image, particularly when she voices upset or doubt about them. It also goes against much of what Yor stands for: while the power imbalance would lie firmly with Twilight, it remains true that Yor’s lies in an apparently deepening intimacy would also undermine the safety and security she ostensibly creates for Twilight. She also so obviously hates lying, the prospect of her keeping her secret into what she believed was a real relationship would wreck her. Doubly so, given the weight Yor puts on Loid's acknowledgement of who she is and what she believes: something she hangs her self-worth on, a recognition of her value. And I'd argue here that it would actually, conversely, be impossible for Loid Forger to acknowledge or accept Yor's truth: that's only something Twilight can do.

And so I guess there’s also just the bare fact following from the above that I think a pre-reveal firming up of their relationship is the less interesting choice for what is a major franchise that has otherwise done innovative things. Another reason I love SxF is that it subverts tropes and complicates cliches. One of which includes communication: for a pair who have crossed lines as a foundation of their relationship, Yor and Twilight actually do a lot of communicating. That’s a subversion of many heterosexual romantic tropes and norms, at least in a Western context, and, to put it sort of flippantly, it would bum me out if it failed at the final hurdle.

I just want to emphasise one more time, my opinions and preferences here are strictly related to Spy x Family in an official canon capacity, and nothing to do with fanworks or fan theories or what fans want to explore in whatever fashion. Part of my feelings here are also honestly because of the tone and pacing of SxF. I think it entirely possible to do interesting things with those tropes and actually think Endo is the type of writer I would trust to do so. But the way SxF is written by way of tone, pacing, narrative priorities and audience demand, I don't think even Endo would be able to do them within SxF in ways that wouldn't squick me out and make me lose love for Twilight, specifically, pretty entirely. I'd rather he just didn't 😂

Tl;dr: in canon exclusively I’m not into a firming up of their romantic relationship pre-reveal! Their situation is complicated enough as it is; give these goobers the love they want and can share with one another, kindly and gently, when the world has been neither kind nor gentle with them. In my view, it’s already primed in their character and thematic arcs 🫶

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Holy moly, your last story had me feeling feelings.

The sentence about the unborn baby being jealous got me thinking tho, what if their kid inherited some of Donna's possessive traits, like always wanting to be by y/n's side, much to the chagrin of poor Donna, who hasn't been able to cuddle reader at night without a (sometimes two) little body wiggling into their bed. And as their daughter grows, she kinda sees Donna as a threat, someone who takes her moms attention away. Donna doesn't rightly know how to deal with the feeling of love for her child, and annoyance at not having reader for themselves.

UNTIL one day when reader and child is taking a walk through the forest, and a couple of men comes up and threatens them, only for mama Donna to turn up and rescue them. Both Donna and her daughter have a revelation that day: Donna from how scared she would be if anything happened to both her love and her child, and daughter from how she now sees Donna as her mama too, who would always protect and love her. And they make an unspoken pact about protecting reader always xD

You don't have to write this if you don't want to, I just got the mama Donna brainrot lol

Thanks for feeding us starving queers some quality Donna content

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your words, and for your request! I'm glad to read you enjoyed that one!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

A long road to motherhood

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna (implied), slightly dark themes, Donna's POV

Word count: 7,112

Summary: How I can be jealous of my own daughter?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! This is a sequel to this one!!! I love you all!!! :))

As they say, time heals wounds.

After almost losing you, after seeing how life became more and more distant from your sight, I was able to get you back.

A miracle, the sign that my sins were forgiven, I couldn't say what exactly it was. I have always thought that coincidence doesn’t exist, even when I met you, a bad deed that was rewarded, a trip to hell of having you immobile in a bed. I could never forget the two weeks when I almost lost you, when my whole world almost collapsed, because of me.

But no, life stopped torturing me, you woke up, you woke up wanting to make me feel good, to forgive me, to continue loving me as I didn't think you did.

If I had to keep a memory in my mind, only one, I would choose the moment in which I turned my head and saw your eyes open, your sweet look from that stretcher, life shining in your eyes again, looking at me.

I made an effort not to torture myself, to not let the nightmares make my nights impossible. It could be because I was still mentally ill, I couldn't separate myself from what life had given me, but I had to be strong. It was no longer you and me. There was someone, someone much more important to care for, someone to fight day and night for with my demons, with my jealousy, with my stupid and sick way of being: our daughter, Giovanna.

Born from my mistakes, from my pathological possessiveness, that girl represented everything pure that was missing in my life. My family, our family had been formed thanks to the biggest mistake of my life, thanks to that horrible afternoon in which I took what I thought was mine.

Luckily, the girl kept me away from your screams of terror, from the way you resisted my actions. Little by little I began to forget it, especially when I saw that childish smile in the girl's eyes. She had no hard feelings. If her birth was a mistake, it would be the best one in my life.

Maybe not the way she was conceived, but I could feel proud of the change that little Giovanna Beneviento made in our lives. I almost lost you because of my selfishness, but I got you back because... Well, I couldn't say why exactly. Maybe you forgave me, maybe you never could. I didn't know, with you it was impossible to know.

The years passed, the girl grew up and with her everything we had formed by chance, because of me, settled into routine, like a new way of living, of caring, of loving...

“Asleep,” you said amused, entering the bedroom, closing the door, wearing that smile on your face, the one I didn't think I deserved.

Luck smiles on the wicked, it smiled on me, the luck of having you, of having you and our daughter. I was not worthy of such honor, such light that had appeared in the darkness of my life.

“She’s alright?” I asked, getting under the covers. You nodded, motioning with your thumb, joining me.

“Yes, she's with Angie,” you answered, kissing me quickly. I frowned, with an amused look.

“That doesn't answer my question,” I whispered, kissing her shoulder, thanking with my lips that you never left, that all my flaws seemed like just an illusion to you.

“Well, I told her the story of the princess and the eel, it is her favorite,” you said with an interesting look. I shook my head, laughing at that attitude you had, that attitude that didn't disappear even in your worst moments. I didn't deserve you.

“The princess and the frog,” I corrected, narrowing my eye, with a sinister smile. You laughed, disapproving of my correction with a wave of your hand and a tired sigh.

“No, no, Donna,” you whispered, with a mocking tone. “You heard me correctly. Eel.”

“What difference does it make?” I asked curiously, admiring your imagination, your ability to make Giovanna fall asleep every night with those made-up stories. Only you could do it.

“Oh, I'm glad you’ve asked me...” you whispered, darkening your voice, making me pay more attention to you. “Well, when the princess kisses the toad, it becomes a prince, right?”

I nodded, listening to you with curiosity, trying not to let my eye go to the scar on your arm, the one that showed the worst two weeks of my life, the ones in which I was on the verge of losing you, because of me.

“Well, in my story, when the princess kisses the eel, the prize is… an electric tickle attack!” you said loudly, attacking me mercilessly, running over my body with your restless hands, making me laugh involuntarily.

“(Y/N)...” I said, grabbing your wrists to end your torture.

“Do you like my story?” you asked, climbing onto my lap, with that shine in your eyes that made me tremble, get excited. You were so perfect, so sweet... So... Fiery.

“Is that the end?” I asked, hugging your body, keeping it close to mine, rocking it. You pretended to think about the answer, which came in the form of a tender, but hot kiss on my lips, one that made me sigh.

“Well, that's the all-audiences ending,” you purred in my ear, forcing my hands to scratch the fabric of your pajamas as a result of the subtle but perceptible movement of your hips against mine.

“Is there an alternative ending?” I asked with a low voice, impatiently putting my hand in your pants, keeping your gaze, which drifted to my lap while you nodded.

“Yes, but it can't be told,” you whispered, reacting to my touch with erratic movements of your body.

“Maybe you can show it to me,” I said, with a smile close to your lips, noticing your nervous breathing, your desire to love me once again, to let yourself be loved, this time for real, that time without arguments, without terrible ideas going through my head.

“Maybe I can,” you whispered, melting into me in a passionate, hot, wet kiss, dancing with my body, caressing my hair, my back, comically fighting with your pajamas so they would disappear from our path.

 “Mom, mom!” a shrill voice sounded behind the door, causing you to move, to turn away from me with scared eyes.

Small steps approached the bed and with the strength that a 6 year old girl could have, Giovanna climbed up to meet us.

“Gio, what are you doing here?” you asked, your face blushing. “Why did you get up?”

“I've had a nightmare...” the girl murmured, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, with a strange feeling that made me raise my eyebrow.

“Oh, a nightmare?” you said, taking the girl in her arms. “You just fell asleep, darling.”

“Yes, but I had the nightmare,” she said, looking away. Was she lying?

“Oh, poor Gio, the evil monsters again?” you asked with a tender voice, placing the little girl between the two of us.

I couldn't help but sigh tiredly. It might seem like a tender moment, a moment when our daughter needed that coveted motherly love. Well, it could be like that, but I knew it wasn't.

When she was born, she was a good baby, who cried like a normal baby, who let herself be rocked, who fell asleep in my arms. That changed over the years. Somehow, as if she had noticed the absence of her mother in the first moments of her life, she could no longer live without her.

Always with you, the girl was always with you, she cooked with you, she bathed with you, and, of course, she slept with you.

The nights stopped being a small bastion of intimacy between us when Giovanna had enough capacity to reason. Sometimes I thought she did it on purpose, to annoy me. She couldn't think that way. I really was trying not to think that way.

“Yes, mom...” the little girl sighed, causing another hug from you and a look of helplessness that you gave me over your shoulder. “Can I sleep here?”

“No, tesoro,” I said, taking the girl in my arms, in a furious outburst at that interruption.

I wouldn't have acted like that if it hadn't been the countless times it happened. “Come on, let's put you to bed.”

“No! I want to stay with mom,” the girl protested, breaking free from my grip, crawling comically across the bed to reach your arms. You laughed, shaking your head.

“(Y/N), tell her something,” I said, showing clear displeasure at the situation. My patience grew as the girl did, but lately it was slowing down, maybe too fast.

You shrugged, hugging our daughter, who seemed to be having another of her usual tantrums.

“Oh, come on, Donna, poor thing. It's okay. She can sleep with us,” you said, giving in to the little girl's emotional blackmail, to those fake tears that ran down her cheek.

“It's okay if it were the first time, (Y/N)” I said, sitting on the bed. “She has to learn to face her fears.”

“Mamma mean... Mom, mamma is mean...” Giovanna said, hanging on to your pajamas, looking at me with eyes that I wished I had never seen. They seemed full of hatred, irrational hatred. Why did she remind me so much of me?

“No, don't say that, honey, mommy Donna isn't mean, she cares about you,” you sighed, cradling the little girl in your arms.

I laughed nervously and crossed my arms, shaking my head. Despised by my own daughter, was this the punishment that awaited me for my horrible acts?

“Well, then she has to let me sleep with you,” the girl said, without bothering to look at my face.

“She's going to do it, right, Donna?” you asked, looking at me. I couldn't do anything else. I had to nod in defeat, for my own daughter.

“Oh, okay,” I huffed, getting under the covers.

I looked at the girl, the girl looked at me and did something that made me sit up again. Her face radiated the sweet taste of victory, sticking her tongue out at me mockingly.

“Hey!” I protested, annoyed by that unpleasant gesture. “(Y/N), the girl stuck her tongue out at me.”

“Oh, come on, stop it and let's go to sleep,” you said tiredly, turning off the light on the table, enveloping the room in the deepest darkness.

I wanted to protest again, to punish Giovanna for treating me that way, but I did nothing, as always. I just crossed my arms again, pressed against the edge of the bed.

Silence finally reigned in my head, and in my ears. Frustrated and nervous, I thought about everything that was happening, about my daughter's unfair attitude towards me. You said that perhaps she had inherited that possessiveness.

 I trembled to think that it could be that way.

Of all my flaws, that was the worst. Just thinking that my daughter could become someone like me... My entire body trembled with terror at that idea, my stomach clenched as I imagined it. Giovanna had inherited almost all of my looks, that wasn't a bad thing. But that her mind worked like mine, that she thought she had to have you to herself...

No, that was something that horrified me, something I tried to ignore in each and every one of her tantrums.

With my eye open, thinking about that possibility, I spent part of the night, well, until a small foot hit me in the face, snapping me out of my own personal torture.

“Mamma, move, I don't have room,” the girl protested, causing me to grunt, pushing her small leg away with an angry gasp.

“You have plenty of room, Giovanna,” I said with a serious voice, perhaps too serious for such a young girl. She didn't seem to care and she continued kicking my body until she forced me to fall off the bed with a thud.

“Mamma, you fell,” my daughter whispered, with a malicious tone, with a tone I hated hearing.

A mocking laugh reached my ears. It wasn't the girl. It was you, (Y/N).

Did you really find it funny that my daughter looked down on me like that? My dark mind lurked in my thoughts, but I was stronger, at that moment I could control my impulses, although I didn't know for how long.

“Do you find it funny? Your daughter kicked me out of bed,” I said furiously, suddenly getting up from the floor.

“No, no, not at all,” you said, not knowing how to hide the mockery that appeared in your words.

I sighed again, running a hand through my hair, shaking my head.

“You know what? You can stay there, I'm leaving,” I said furiously, grabbing one of the cushions from the bed, leaving the room, stopped by your mocking hand on my wrist.

“Come on, Donna, stop acting like a child and go back to bed,” you said, your voice tired. I opened my eyes wide, offended by that reproach.

“Do I behave like a child?” I asked, with my hands on my hips. “Tell your daughter, she hasn't stopped until she kicked me out of bed and...”

“Donna, stop it,” you scolded me, leaving me glued to the wooden floor. “I don't know which of the two is more childish, really...” you sighed, turning around, letting me go.

I opened my mouth to say something, but my insides were churning furiously. I knew I was right, but I couldn't help but feel that it was internal rage, an uncontrolled rage that clouded my disturbed mind was the reason for all your suffering. I would never hurt you again, (Y/N), ever again.

“Buoa notte,” I whispered before disappearing down the hallway, walking towards the office.

Lying back on that old sofa, I thought about whether all of that was really a punishment, if the happiness I felt from having you next to me, from having a family, was just the illusion of reward, instead of a macabre game of hell itself.

“Hello, hello, hello, exiled again?” a familiar, too familiar voice asked, Angie, who entered the office with an amused step.

“What do you think?” I asked, settling down on that horrible sofa, looking away from that annoying doll. “If you did your job well…”

“What job?” the doll asked, jumping into my stomach, with a maddening voice that I didn't need to hear.

“Giovanna has had nightmares again,” I commented in a low voice, forcing Angie to get off my body, turning around, trying not to stick the wood of that sofa that little by little was becoming my new bed.

“Oh, I didn't know,” she muttered, climbing up again, just to annoy me. Why would my own conscience want to annoy me? It seemed like everyone was against me, as always.

“You didn’t know? You sleep with her,” I said incredulously, suspecting something I already knew. Angie shrugged, shaking her head from side to side. “Piccola bugiarda…”

“Don't blame her. She wants to be with her mother,” the doll said, downplaying the fact that my daughter was a little liar, something admirable at her age, but equally irritating.

“I'm her mother too,” I protested, sitting up, saying out loud a truth that my own daughter seemed to deny from the moment she said her first word, from the moment she decided not to separate from you.

“That's quite obvious,” Angie murmured, making me roll my eye and cross my arms, pressing my nails into my skin.

“But it seems like I’m not... Giovanna doesn't see me as such,” I said with a lower voice. “Cazzo, Angie, I can't even spend a moment with (Y/N) alone...”

“Oh...” the puppet sighed, forcing me to look at her. “I don't think you're jealous of your own daughter, Donna.”

“What? Of course I’m not,” I said immediately, separating that possibility from my head, the possibility that had been tormenting me for some time.

“Well, it seems like it,” Angie rebuked, earning a strong push from me to took her off the couch.

“Don’t say nonsense. I'm sure it's a phase or something...” I muttered, grabbing the cushion to channel my anger into that piece of fabric instead of losing my nerve.

I hadn't lost my mind for too long, I wanted you to be proud of me.

“Well, well, what you want is to be alone with (Y/N) to make more babies to get on my nerves,” the irreverent puppet commented.

I huffed tiredly. Of course, Angie was part of me. She was just as possessive and jealous as me, as Giovanna...

“You don't understand,” I said in a dark tone, looking away from her. “I adore our daughter but I would like to have time for (Y/N) and me and… Besides, I'm afraid of…”

“Of what, Donna?”

“I’m afraid of Giovanna being like me”

That night I barely slept. The erratic thoughts in my head wandered freely thanks to the lack of your body hugging mine, your heat dissipating my demons. No, I couldn't be jealous of Giovanna, I couldn't feel hatred towards the person I loved most in the world. Or maybe I can, I didn't know, I was incapable of controlling everything that was going through my head, I was incapable of not seeing myself in my daughter's hateful glances.

“Good morning, darling...” your soft voice, your caresses on my hair woke me up from my recurring nightmares, some in which my old self took control of my actions, some in which I hurt you, again. “Have you been able to sleep?”

“Yes, well, I'm used to that horrible couch,” I murmured, yawning, sitting up to return those precious caresses, that kiss that I wanted to give you to calm my senses.

“Donna,” you sighed, with a sad look, lack of that fun that always guided your life. “Come on, don't be mad.”

“I'm not mad,” I said defensively, bringing my knees to my chest. “How did the little princess sleep?” I asked, unable to prevent irony from coating my words.

“Well, well, it seems like she doesn't have nightmares anymore,” you commented, oblivious to the mockery of my question, or rather, wanting to be oblivious to it.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, shaking my head, with a fake smile on my face.

“Don't be like that with Gio, she's a little girl, it's normal that she wants to be with her mother,” you explained, never ceasing in your attempt to calm me down with your caresses.

 I wish it had been that easy from the beginning, I wish your love could have put an end to my jealousy.

“With you, of course,” I murmured angrily, squeezing my fist tightly, a fist you grabbed, undoing its shape before it hurt me, again.

“Don't have a hard time, my love. You know what Giovanna is like, she's like…”

“Like me,” I interrupted, making you sigh intensely and lower your gaze. That was what you were going to say, it doesn't matter if you denied it.

“Yes, but not in the way you're thinking,” you said, lying, I could see it in your eyes, you were lying.

Liar

“I need to take a shower,” you commented, leaving aside that interesting and dangerous topic of conversation. “Why don't you give the girl breakfast? So you spend some time together.”

“She’s going to to bite me,” I murmured, unintentionally earning another of your tender laughs, another of your quick kisses on the lips, caresses and kisses I never deserved.

“Stop protesting and act like a mother,” you said amused, leaving the office.

I growled, uncovering myself and going to look for that little monster.

“Come on, Giovanna, drink the milk...” I said, tired of the girl's obvious refusal.

Already dressed, I prepared to fulfill the task you gave me, bathing the little girl and giving her breakfast. To say it was easy was a dirty liar. It was not.

Giovanna's protests grated in my ears. She loved her mother, she loved you.

“I don't want to, where is mom?” Giovanna asked, in a childlike posture, crossing her arms and dodging each of my attempts to bring the glass to her mouth.

“Mom is taking a shower, come on, obey,” I said, already tired from that infernal bath, from the kicks and punches of protest from my daughter, from our daughter. If she didn't look so much like me, I'd think she was just yours.

“I don't want to,” the girl said, looking at me proudly. I snorted, getting angry.

“Giovanna...” I hissed threateningly, sternly. She shook her head. “Come on, don't make it more difficult for me.”

“What have you done to mom?” she asked, leaving me stunned, leaving me breathless because of that horrible accusation.

“What are you talking about, tesoro?” I asked incredulously at those words, at that question. Did she remember she existed because I forced you to? It didn't seem possible.

“Mom's not here, I'm sure it's your fault,” the girl repeated, without looking at my face, gracefully avoiding my attempts to get her to eat breakfast.

“Don't talk nonsense and have breakfast at once,” I said tiredly, ignoring that horrible accusation.

“I don't want to, I want mom to come,” Giovanna said, kicking in the chair, threatening with another tantrum.

“I told you... Mom is taking a shower,” I whispered, losing my patience. “Eat breakfast or I won't let you play with Angie.”

Apparently, the threat of punishment had an effect. The girl clumsily picked up the glass, drinking some milk. I sighed in relief, but not for long. With a mocking sound, the milk in her mouth shot into the worst possible place, into my face.

I blinked in shock at this evil act and tried to ignore the boisterous laughter of the Angie doll, who seemed to be writhing on the floor, amused at my expense.

“It's over, you're punished,” I said furiously, grabbing the little girl's arm, who protested with an exaggerated scream.

“Let me go! Mom!” the little girl yelled, disconsolately calling her mother, calling you, her savior.

“Stai zitto, Giovanna,” I said furiously with a dark voice, but maintaining my composure, wiping my face.

“Lasciami in pace!” she screeched in response, moving erratically.

“Io sono la tua mamma, ascoltami, Giovanna...” I whispered, stopping that protest as best I could, being totally incapable.

“Tu non sei la mia mamma, sei una stupida!” she screamed, insulting me, making it clear that she didn't love me, that she only loved you.

That was a hard blow for my fragile mind, too hard.

“Hey, hey...” your voice resonated to calm that bloody battle, appearing from the hallway with a gaze fixed on the girl, with a frown. “What's going on here? If you're going to fight, at least do it in my language, will you?”

 “Your daughter, (Y/N), that's what's happening,” I said furiously, unable to get rid of the strong accent that anger made me have. You approached, shaking your head, running a hand through my hair.

“What happened to you? Has a cow fallen on your face?” you joked, making the girl laugh in amusement, being picked up by your protective arms.

I didn't know what to say, I simply tried to fight against my wounded heart, against the tears that threatened to slide down my cheek.

With a growl, I walked away from you, quickly, ignoring your calls.

“Donna! Hey, Donna! Come here,” you shouted, calling me. I turned to look at you, but I could only see the girl's triumphant eyes, ones that almost made me lose control.

I ignored your screams, going down to the basement, running quickly towards my room, containing the rage that was beginning to build up in my fists.

Furious, I kicked a chair, kicked the bed, and pulled my hair. The situation was unbearable but... No, I couldn't lose my mind in front of you, of our daughter. I couldn't go back to being that evil woman who ruined your life, the one who forced you through her deranged mind. I didn't want it to come back, but I couldn't stop it.

“Maledizione!” I shouted, releasing all my anger in a punch that hit the mirror of the old dresser. Blood flowed from my hand. The pain was intense, but not compared to the damage to my delicate, sensitive, sick heart...

How to deal with the love I felt for you, and for my daughter? How to handle those horrible feelings that haunted me? I loved Giovanna. I loved her more than my own life, even if she didn't feel the same way.

Jealousy, possessiveness, yes, there was no longer any doubt, it was my fault. Giovanna was born for that reason. She came into the world because of my pathetic and crazy obsession with keeping you by my side. Just as it happened with me, it happened with her. My desire not to lose you, to keep you close to me had passed to Giovanna, turning her into my reflection, into an adorable version of the monster that I considered myself to be.

The situation was getting out of control. I should never have been a mother, I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve to have you by my side. Your words, the love you said you felt for me were no longer enough.

That was my punishment for keeping you. That was my punishment for all the harm I did to you, creating something wonderful, a beautiful daughter, only for me to be nothing to her, just a nuisance, a threat that stood between her mother and her.

I looked at the blood that flowed from my knuckles, that blood that reminded me that I was still a human being. I shook my head, I buried it in my arms and there, in the solitude of my room, far from my family, far from the most important things in the world for me, I cried inconsolably.

“Quando ci vuole, ci vuole, mm?” I repeated that phrase looking at myself in the broken mirror, demanding a bit of fortitude from myself, gaining enough strength to get up and return to your side.

No matter how hard the path was, my duty was to walk along it. That was my penance.

“You shouldn't treat mommy that way, honey... She loves you very much.” Your voice caught my attention, making me hide before revealing myself again.

“She doesn't love me, she just wants to take me away from you,” the girl said, sobbing. That made me squirm again, but I managed to stay calm.

“No, that's not true, darling. Donna would do anything for you, for us… Remember how she made you Mrs. Freckles? She's your favorite doll, right?” you asked, giving Giovanna that doll, one that I made her when she was three years old, when she didn't hate me.

“Yes...” Giovanna said, hugging the doll tightly. That was the closest I'd come to her to give me some love the last two years. I cried again thinking about it.

“Besides, you don't remember but... Thanks to your mom, you're healthy and strong now, I'm sure you didn't know that,” you commented, with a soft voice, cradling the girl, calming her tantrum.

Giovanna shook her head, curious.

“I don't remember,” she said, with her hand on her mouth, in an adorable way. Well, at least it made me smile.

“Of course not, you had just been born and I... Well, I got very, very sick... I couldn't take care of you, but do you know who did?” you asked, with a voice similar to the one you used when you told her a story.

 The girl shook her head.

“Donna, your mommy, she took care of you until I got well again. She fed you, changed your diaper, sang lullabies to you to make you fall asleep...” You explained, making the knot in my stomach grow stronger. I didn't want to remember those two weeks, I didn't want to.

“Mamma Donna?” the girl asked, lowering her gaze.

“Yes, honey, she was very kind to you, you should be a good girl and return her favor, don't you think?” you said, with a softer voice.

The girl seemed to think about it, but finally, just as I suspected, she shook her head.

“Go to play with Angie, okay?” you said when you looked at me out of the corner of your eye, when you realized my presence. “Then we could take a walk in the forest, would you like to?”

“Yes, yes, a walk!” Giovanna said, excited about the idea, running around the room, passing by me without even looking at me.

“Donna, darling,” you sighed, walking slowly towards me, looking down at my wound, still bleeding. “Oh, my love… Have you hurt yourself again?”

I nodded, trying not to look at her, feeling ashamed, feeling that I was the monster you seemed to fall in love with once again.

“Gods, what have you done? Come, let's heal you,” you sighed, with that look you had when my mind went crazy, something that hadn't happened for too long.

Slowly, with a sad look, you bandaged my wound, not wanting to say anything, looking at me from time to time, with pity, thinking you had lost me again.

“Giovanna said I wasn't her mother,” I murmured while you worked on my wound. You looked at me, sighing, closing the bandage around my hand, holding it in yours.

“Don't pay attention to her, she's a little girl. You know that children say a lot of nonsense,” you commented, lifting my chin so you could see my face damaged by crying.

“It's not nonsense,” I said, furious again.

"Of course it is. Giovanna loves you, even if she doesn't tell you, I know,” you said in a soft tone, trying to convince me to abandon that shameful jealousy, that lack of your love that girl was forcing me to feel.

“You think so?” I said, turning around, looking on the coffee table for one of the many drawings my daughter made and showing it to you superbly. “Where am I here?”

“Oh, well...” you said, taking the sheet of paper, looking at the figures of Giovanna, Angie and you. “Oh, look, here you are,” you said smiling, pointing to a small black figure in the corner of the paper. I raised my eyebrows.

“There are lint in this house bigger than that black stain,” I said ironically, becoming defensive again.

“That black stain is you,” you joked, nudging me. I looked at you with a burning gaze, making you step back.

“Exactly, I'm just a black stain in our daughter's life, and in your life,” I murmured, looking away.

“No, that's not true, you know I love you very much Donna. You know that I...” you said, almost begging for me to listen to you, too late.

“I have to work on my dolls,” I said, getting up from the couch, rubbing the bandaged wound on my hand. “Thank you for healing me.”

“Donna, honey, wait...”

Nothing you said could be enough to calm the tide of my dark thoughts.

Just a black stain, a monster that wanted to separate my daughter from her mother, that was me in that family, nothing else.

“We'll be back before it gets dark,” you said, kissing me on the cheek as you said goodbye, heading out the door. “Come on, Gio, give mommy a kiss,” you ordered the girl, who was tugging impatiently at your dress.

“I don't want to,” the girl murmured, taking refuge between your legs. “Come on, mom, come on.”

You looked at me, apologizing for her, I shook my head. Not even Angie stayed with me.

With nothing better to do, I leaned on the porch railing, watching you walk away, letting my mind think that this might be the last time I saw you. In my hands, I held the black veil with which I used to cover my face, imagining a fleeting hope that would allow me to go with you.

I'm just stupid, like my daughter said. I didn't deserve the fantastic family I had. I never did it, it was all my fault.

“Look, Donna, what a kick... It's incredible...”

“Do you think we should paint the room? It's a bit dull for a girl, or a boy...”

“I want to see what it's like...”

As I looked somewhere I didn't notice, I remembered those moments, those horrible moments of your pregnancy, horrible, yes, but also tender, adorable. I was to blame for your suffering and your smiles. The harm that little Giovanna did to you was the first of my punishments.

I sighed, letting a tear fall onto the wooden floor, shaking my head, denying myself the truth of a terrible thought. You would be much better off without me.

“Donna, Donna!” A shrill voice derived that horrible thought from my head. My Angie doll appeared from the trees, clumsily running towards me.

“Angie? What's going on?” I asked, shaking my head as I ran to pick up the puppet, who was panting comically from that impromptu run.

“(Y/N), (Y/N) and Gio are in trouble, you have to help them, quickly!” the doll shouted, pulling the fabric of my dress. I, scared by that phrase, calmed the puppet by shaking it so it would stop babbling.

“What? In trouble?” I asked scared, with my body trembling with fear.

“Some bad men have trapped them in the forest, you have to do something, run, run!”

Frightened by that revelation, I put the black veil over my face, lowering the doll to the ground. My gaze darkened.

Nobody touches my family.

“Okay, take me there, Angie,” I whispered.

The doll nodded and led me by the hand into the depths of the forest.

“Do you want to stay still, you damn brat?” A deep voice reached my ears. This horrible vision appeared behind some bushes.

Two men, probably from the village, were holding my daughter, holding you in the same way while you kicked, trying unsuccessfully to get out of their grasp.

“Ah! Damn! She has bitten me!” The fatter one yelled, protesting against Giovanna's surprising attack against his hand.

“Let my mom go, you silly! Let her go!” the girl shouted, now in the arms of that evil man.

“Damn child!” the other man shouted, trying to keep you still.

“Gio!” you screamed, watching how the girl kicked tirelessly. My whole body burned with rage. “Let her go, you asshole, she's a child!”

“I will if you give me what I want, young lady,” the bandit murmured.

“I already told you that we don't have money!” you screamed again, growling, fighting with the hands that went to your neck.

“I think so, look at that girl's doll, it must be worth a lot of lei...”

“No, Mrs. Freckles!” Giovanna yelled, when that vermin snatched her doll.

“You're screwing up quite well... You don't know where you've gotten yourself,” you growled, your eyes burning with helplessness.

I couldn't take it anymore.

“Mamma!”  Giovanna  said when I, with a calm, threatening step, appeared from the shadows.

“Ah!” the fat man shouted, receiving a well-deserved kick in the crotch from my daughter, something that made me smile.

“Damn... What the hell...?” the man murmured, now moaning in pain, while I picked up my frightened daughter in my arms.

“Oliver, look who she is...” the man holding you said, pointing at me, who was trying to comfort the little girl's crying.

“Oh, shit...” the fat man sighed, eyes wide open, kneeling in the snow. “Lady Beneviento…”

I didn't say anything, I just sighed, cradling my daughter who, for once, clung to me disconsolately.

“Donna,” you whispered, with a triumphant smile.

“Greg, I think you should let the girl go,” the kneeling man said. His friend, unfortunately for him, didn’t seem to pay attention to him.

“Are you stupid? She can't hurt us, she's just a nutcase,” his partner said, with a crazy look, putting a knife to your neck. “Don’t, don't move or the girl dies.”

“Greg, no...” the fat man said, pulling on his partner's clothes.

“Are you a coward or what's wrong with you?” this Greg guy snapped, smiling in a horrible way, holding the sharp blade to your delicate neck. “One, one step back, you doll psychopath…”

Of course, I didn't obey.

“Don't insult her, dude... Don’t do it...” his partner lamented, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

“Get up, now we have the control. She won't do anything if she doesn't want the girl to get hurt,” that stupid man said, making me laugh. “Give us everything you have if you don't want us hurt her. I will do it, I swear...”

“No, you won't,” I whispered, extending my free hand toward them.

“Ah! Snakes!” the fat man shouted, rolling on the ground. “They are everywhere!”

The girl looked at me smiling curiously, just like you, who was no longer trembling.

“What do you say, Giovanna? What do you think can scare that stupid guy so much?” I asked amused, looking into the scared eyes of the man who was still holding you.

“Mmm,” the girl murmured, changing terror for amusement. “Coccodrilli!”

“I like it,” I said with a dark look, walking towards that man who was threatening you. His eyes changed to ones of terror, especially since his partner continued to struggle with his hallucinations.

“No, no, wait, wait,” he said, letting you go and putting his hands up. “It, it was a misunderstanding, I... Ah! It has torn off my arm!” He said horrified, when he finally succumbed to my powers.

You ran to my side, into my arms, with a smile of relief, the three of us watching that pitiful spectacle together.

“They’re everywhere!”

“It ripped off my leg! Help!”

I approached them slowly, putting a hand on your shoulder, holding little Giovanna in my arms.

“The next time you mess with my family I won't be pious,” I threatened, giving as much fear as I could, being that monster I hated so much being, to protect my family.

“That’s right!” the girl said “Fools!”

The rats fled at last, leaving a small moment of tension behind them.

“Gods, Donna, you showed up,” you whispered, removing the black cloth from my face, kissing me quickly and then our daughter. “Gio, are you okay?”

“Mrs. Freckles!” the girl screamed. I lowered her to the ground so she could run towards her doll, now with a broken arm.

“Don't worry, honey, Donna will fix it,” you said, you now being the one holding the girl, as expected. “Come on, let's go home…”

The way back was silent. Your hand in mine expressed gratitude, love, what I didn't think you felt for me. Even Giovanna's distrustful look seemed to change, looking at me embarrassedly over your shoulder, as if she were sad, or sorry for something.

The next day the routine continued, but not before talking at length about that incident. Miraculously, Giovanna didn’t seem to have nightmares that night and, surprisingly, according to you, excited by my bravery, you allowed me to make love to you, for the first time in many months.

That small release seemed to mark the beginning of a new stage, or maybe it was just that the girl was too sleepy to want to annoy me. I didn't know.

Like every day, I worked on my dolls, well, that time, on poor Mrs. Freckles, repairing her arm in silence, with the only sound of the workshop clock keeping me company.

A tug on my dress distracted me. I hadn't heard her, but my daughter had entered the workshop like a silent breeze. I assumed she wanted to check the state of Mrs. Freckles' injury.

“Mamma...” she murmured, with her head bowed. I sighed, smiling, pretending that I had no hard feelings, pretending I didn't care about her attitude toward me.

“What do you want, tesoro? She's almost fixed,” I murmured, looking at the doll again. The girl tugged at my dress again, now catching my attention.

Giovanna didn't say anything. She just moved her hands up, opening and closing her fists with a sad look, asking, surprisingly, to be held in my arms.

I, without hesitation, obeyed her silent request, sitting her on my lap while I fixed her favorite doll.

“Will she recover?” she asked, observing my work. I smiled sincerely, nodding.

“Of course,” I said, amused. “Mrs. Freckles is very brave, don't you think?”

Giovanna nodded profusely, with a hand on her mouth, a hand that I slowly withdrew, so I could see the precious daughter I conceived.

“You are also very brave,” she murmured, as if something was stopping her from saying that. I stopped sewing, looking at my daughter's sincere expression. “You saved us.”

“I only did what I had to do, tesoro, protect my family,” I said with a slightly serious tone, accommodating the girl in a more comfortable position.

“I have a gift for you...” Giovanna whispered, taking one of her little hands to the pocket of her dress and taking out a sheet of paper.

I picked it up slowly, frowning when I saw one of Giovanna's drawings. Mysteriously, I seemed to be the protagonist.

“Look, mamma, it's you, see?” she explained, pointing to my dark figure in the  middle of the drawing, rising triumphantly over two evil bandits. “Look, that's mom and me, smiling because you saved us.”

“Giovanna, it's... Amazing...” I sighed, trying not to get too excited, looking over and over again at the surprising details of that drawing.

“You will always protect us, right?” she asked with a low voice, as if she was also about to cry.

“Of course, tesoro,” I said, wiping away a tear that finally ran down her cheek. “Mom and you are the most important things in my life.”

“And will we always be?” the girl asked, a little more worried.

“Always, my love,” I said, with a smile.

“Won't you let them hurt mom?” she asked again.

 I shook my head.

“Never,” I said, with a more serious tone. Giovanna smiled and, with an unexpected gesture, jumped into my arms, hugging me tightly, with an affection that I could never imagine or deserve.

“I love you so much, mamma...” she whispered with a tender voice, finally making me emotional.

“I love you too, my beautiful girl...”

[eechidreams]

madeliene cookie x g/n reader

request asked by friend but decided to post it here too~

cw: , nsfw (obviously),cursing, manhandling (in a sexy way ofc)

Pounding and faint screams is what civilians nearby, coming from sir madelienes house. Of course some were confused and others knew what was going on since they scurryed away quickly as they can from the site.

But who was he doing with?

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKK!!!" You moaned out sobbing, his cock slamming deep into you. The bed literally creaks with each slam into your bruised but wet hole, poor you.. But madeleine didn't care. he fucks you like a dog and acts like this is the last time he'll ever fuck you, he holds you close and mumbles into your shoulder "Mine.. mine.. all mine.." as you screamed, He knew people could hear but who cares? He doesn't.

He picks up the pace and manhandles you, changing the pace. hes holding you by the waist while slamming your body onto his wet long cock. You immediately start to scream moaning, as if you werent doing enough screaming. "MORE!!!! I NEED MORE!!!!" You yell, Obviously since madeliene is a freak he quickens up. Madeleine is- well now was more of a wait till marriage guy, but when hes with you? He couldn't resist. You were too fucking hot for your own good. But this doesn't count right? Just two people enjoying intercourse.... right...

He shakes those thoughts away on how hes putting the Madeleine family to shame and continues to rawdog you, Alone in his house, while you sob and cry. "I love you, i love you i love you i love you!!" He repeats like a broken record as hes about to cum, He picks up the pace like a dog trying to catch a ball "Shhhitt im about to --" Before he could finish his sentence, he released allover inside your hole, You immediately collapse on his bed face front gasping for air as madeleine slowly lighten his grip from your now bruised waist. What they don't know wont hurt them..

this is my first time writing smut for crk characters, sorry if it sucks and is kind of bland but this is what my friend asked for , and i hope u enjoyed it too xd

[teecupangel]

Tee I can't remember if I've sent this idea before, but with [insert Desmond as an animal au] of your choice (or multiple of them, or all of them)--consider Desmond stuck as an animal and getting used to that being his new life. Until. He meets one of his ancestors he spent time as (havihg sought them out of course. He could never resist). And then, maybe it's by design, or maybe it's some kind of weird crossed wires from the Bleeding Effect, the echo of a flesh and blood body given a reminder in the code of the universe what shape it's supposed to be--

Whatever it is, it turns out that as long as Desmond is in skin-to-skin contact with his ancestor, he reverts to human form.

which is to say: big convoluted excuse for lots of hugs and hand-holding.

It would be funny if Desmond was some kind of big animal so when his ancestor lets go of him, enemies would be surprised by the sudden appearance of such a beast XD

Since you gave me free rein on this, I’m going for 12th century Levant XD

.

.

Malik did not believe he was close minded.

He accepted Altaïr was in love with a mysterious man who can turn into a beast even before Altaïr had admitted it.

Altaïr didn’t try hard to deny it anyway.

Saying “this is necessary” while they were holding hands or Altaïr’s hand was on his neck or they were in each other’s embrace (and many more positions that Malik didn’t have any time to list down at the moment) was such a weak excuse that Malik didn’t really think he should even be using the term excuse in the first place.

When he sent a letter saying he was going on a ‘trip’ with Desmond after they finished the mission in Cyprus, no one in the Brotherhood was surprised.

They immediately looked for Malik to lead them as if Altaïr had planned it.

No.

This felt more like Desmond’s work. That man seemed to believe Malik could handle more things than Malik was comfortable with handling.

Yet, he persevered for no one was willing to take the mantle from him.

After the first year of his tenure as the temporary mentor, Rauf was already suggesting that he, Altaïr and Desmond should just be the mentors together.

The way he said it though made it clear to Malik that Rauf believed Malik was entangled in Altaïr and Desmond’s relationship.

Or was harboring unsaid feelings for either or both of them.

Malik wanted to vomit there and then.

He would rather lose both of his arms than be part of whatever relationship those two had.

They were the cause of Malik’s headache.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

.

Their trip lasted for four long years.

Malik’s list of complaints had turned into a journal and he was planning to read everything out loud.

But his tenure as the long suffering temporary mentor has finally come to an end for those two idiots had returned.

When he reached the courtyard to greet them, Kadar grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Brother.” Kadar’s eyes were wide and his hands were trembling.

“What is it?” Malik asked, his mind going through the many worrying fates those two idiots could have had while they had been away.

“I’m so sorry, brother.” Kadar looked like a man who had his heart broken.

… on behalf of Malik.

Oh no.

Please.

No.

“Malik!” Desmond shouted and Kadar let go of him, stepping back into the crowd like the coward that he was.

Malik turned to where he heard Desmond’s face and saw Desmond’s grinning face.

With both of his hands holding two different persons.

Altaïr was, of course, one of them.

That was a common sight by now.

The other was a woman though.

“This is Maria Thorpe.” Desmond introduced, “The mother of our first son! He’ll be born three months from now!”

Oh, it was worse.

Many Assassins behind the three currently in front of Malik were looking at him with pitying eyes.

It seemed their imagination had run wild.

And now they had cast Malik into the role of an unfortunate man who just heard the two men (or one of these idiots) he was in love with (He. Was. Not.) had married a woman while he had been waiting for them to return.

Forget reading out loud his complaints.

He was going to beat the both of them with that damn journal.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Dream a little dream of me.

Request: I had an idea for you to accept yourself and feel comfortable doing so, of course! 💕

Well, what if the reader was a human from an alternate universe who fell into the world of Hazbin... And the reader has a secret, that she can use magic, but refuses to use her unique magic, until the day of war. .. The reader hates wars and seeing her friends getting hurt, so use her unique magic, where she summons magical flowers that cause drowsiness, and with that, making everyone in hell and the angels sleep peacefully and as a bonus, healing everyone who are suffering while they sleep (The reader's plan is to make everyone sleep until the extermination time ends, so that no one gets hurt or dies)... And in their dreams, people would be living their greatest desires and dreams come true, having and discovering what they really want, even if they refuse to admit it when they're awake...

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader Summary: A decision made in between desperation and love, to protect everyone reader makes everyone sleep, while she made sure everyone was taken care of. Warnings: Blood, violence.

(The real ones will acknowledge 2 references) Also I tried, but I simply can't write yandere characters XD it came out cringy.

You felt a slight distant feeling in the spirits surrounding the hotel. A battle was coming, not quite a war, but no less deadly. You sat in the windowsill, watching the red city thrive with life and evil, unaware of the affairs dealt within the hotel’s walls.

Sorrow was not an emotion you would attach to a situation quite like that one, but thinking in all the princess has done for you, and how open minded she was of your condition and your posture against violence, you couldn’t help to feel a great deal of sadness, contemplating an untimely death for everyone inside.

“Y/n, I know you had told me before, but would you please consider changing your mind?” earlier, the princess pleaded, her hand caressing your arm. Your dexterous ability with magic was clear to her, so she tried to bend your arm – figuratively – to get you to join the battle.

“I’m sorry princess, I cannot” you watched the sadness wash over her eyes. Her girlfriend offered some reassurance after she walked away from you, not wishing to press the matter onto you any further.

“What was it like, in your dimension?” Husk asked, not looking up from the glass he was cleaning. “Violent, dark, strict” as if you could describe your birthplace, not quite like a home but a prison, a place that seemed like hell, just with a tad of more fire.

“I dare bet that you used to be an angel, dearest” the radio demon slid onto a barstool, taking the one closest to you. “What makes you say that?” he took your hand off your drink, rising it to his lips, feeling each and every single one of the cold scales on your knuckles against his skin. “There’s not a single demon in hell with your capabilities, specially those to resist the call to freely infringe pain” in another life, maybe, but seeing what your anger could do, you simply couldn’t.

“I’ll take that as a compliment Radio Demon” he made a static sound as he chuckled, finding your cheekiness adorable. “Wasn’t it?” he still held your hand in his, enjoying the ridges on the back of your hand. “In your tongue? No” you made your scales stand in point, prickling one of Alastor’s fingers, which made him wince and hiss.

“I wish you bests of lucks, Alastor. May fortune be on your hand when you slay that ignorant so-called angel” you saluted him as you would do to a soldier or a knight. He watched you go up the stairs, his favorite time of the day was when he could just watch you flee.

The gentle sway of your hips had a vice grasp on his sanity. Your eyes were those of a snake, captivating and mysterious, with the most beautiful color he had ever seen, such combination couldn’t have an earthly name, he once thought. Your skin seemed soft and undamaged, yet it hid millions of little scales that shined subtly with the fire’s light.

If it weren’t for your black crooked horns that made a crown at the height of your temple, and the black bat-wings that you dragged behind on back, you could be mistaken for a divine creation. Alastor knows he made that mistake upon first meeting you.

How easy was for you to make his powers flee him, and a chill to travel up his spine to the tip of his prongs. He not only met arousal for the first time, but also attraction.

You are intelligent, Alastor was aware of that from moment one. That's why he knew that you would never choose a sinner of his level as a life partner, you were made for greatness, for something far out of his reach to become. If his pride didn't get in the way, he would easily kneel at your feet, and make you his, even if he had to beg you for it. But his pride and denial of his own feelings was as big and vast as hell.

But oh, how he loved to see you go. It was a spell itself, the way you took his breath away as you disappeared inside the corridor.

The next day, the battle was freely fought in the front garden of the hotel. In your room you kept the little creatures safe, while you kept yourself safe. But there's only so much a person can take, so much explosion and dismemberment, it made you jump out of your hiding place and take to the field.

“ENOUGH!” you hit the earth with your fist, not breaking it, but your green power made grass grow up from the dry and dead soil of hell. Then, red little flowers bloomed, the spores made everyone who smelled it fall asleep, including Alastor and Adam on the ceiling.

“What is this magic?” Lute remained on the sky, covering her mouth with a cloth. “Poppies, they’re just asleep” you flew to meet her level, she didn’t take that too nicely since she rushed to attack you with her sword, “So you can kill us faster?”, you were quick to avoid her advances.

“Not at all, please pick up your wounded sisters and leave” you gave her the chance, “Why, what makes you believe I will-” you summoned your spear, made of dark magic, and pointed her neck with it.

“If you fall to your blinded nonsense and attack me once more, I will retaliate” you mere poked her crown with the flat blade before making it go away, “If I do you will be the last one to die” the aura surrounding you, made her wings twitch. “Let’s see about that” was what she muttered before launching herself at you.

One of the properties of the sleeping poppies, was that they provide whoever that smell them a pleasing slumber, dreaming with what they desire the most.

For Charlie it was the hotel finally working.

For Vaggie, it was Charlie happily married to her.

For Angel Dust, it was to be free of Valentino’s grasp. Husk shared that exact vision.

Everything was dark. Guided by the smell of humidity and damp earth, Alastor walked blindly, the only sound was his own footsteps and his heart beating in his ears.

He felt short of breath when he heard a second pair of footsteps behind him. He quickly ran, spotting a light between the trees, without knowing why, he followed it. His chest was heaving painfully, and each gulp of air felt like fire down his throat.

When he reached the light, he felt himself fall, and when he opened his eyes Alastor was laying on his back, green grass under him, and a cool refreshing breeze softly moving the tuffs of hair on top of his ears. He hadn’t seen a blue sky in a century, he didn’t even remembered he missed the feeling of the sun on his brow. But he did.

“Earth to Alastor!” he looked to his right, and there you were, “Hey mon cher, penny for your thoughts?” you had a fork on your hand with a strawberry on it. The intimate gesture of you feeding him something seemed surreal, but he neverminded, opened his mouth and relished in the sweetness, even though he wasn’t a fan of sweets.

“It’s a lovely day” he was unsure of what to say, one moment he was with Adam, and in a blink of an eye, you were with him. “It sure is, we haven’t had one like this in a while, huh?” he pressed his hand on your cheek, not believing for a second this fake sense of peace in the air.

“This isn’t real” he whispered for himself, but you caught on his words nonetheless. “Wasn’t trying to convince you otherwise” your voice was so gentle, had you always been like this?, “Then, where are we?” he felt a tug on his face, his smile, he didn’t noticed he wasn’t smiling.

“You tell me, my spell reflects the desires of the person in their dreams, so where are we?”  he didn’t recognized the place, It could well have been some postcard image, he liked to see them on the way to the studio, but he wasn't sure.

“On a hill…wait a dream, what about the battle?” what about his body? Although, everything was so idyllic, but in no way did he, after being killed in battle, ascend to heaven. It didn't even cross his mind.

“I’m taking care of everyone as we speak, I’ll be done in a minute” Outside, you were flying over the battlefield, while looking for a way to immobilize Lute without killing her, she made it hard to do so by moving a lot, and attacking you.

Alastor sensed your eyes and your mind were far away, given the stare into nothingness you had. “We lost?” he startled you, so you gave him a rushed answer, entering a separate state of mind connected to his dream.

“No” he was confused, why would you put everyone to sleep after denying the use of your powers? What was the reason of the change of heart?. “Then?” he tried searching in your face, any sign of anything, his ego was dying to know if he managed to kill the winged-wretch of Adam.  

“I heard all the screaming, then…your voice, I just couldn’t anymore” You couldn't handle the thought of losing more people, and dammed as he could be, you had taking a liking over the radio demon’s antiques and old personality.

Your face contorted into a grimace of pain, all of a sudden Lute had attempted to plunge her blade into you, but failed only by a few inches, making a piercing wound on your torso nonetheless, but not in the way she wanted.

“What is going on?” The cuts, given Lute’s advances, were starting to reflect on your skin, staining your white sundress. “I got distracted, is all” you did your best to disregard your situation, making a cover that soon was shattered by another whimper of pain on your part.

Your handle on the situation grew weaker by the minute, until one of her movements graced your wing, forcing you to land forcefully on the Hotel’s ceiling. “I'm going to take advantage of your curse, and when I'm done killing everyone here, I'll come for you” she laughed with a sinister tone.

There was so much hatred in the heart of that angel, it surprised you, you even wondered if he shared the sky in your world with this one, and I hope that's not the case. You were surprised at how cruel a divine being could be.

A ravenous roar echoed through the air; you were immediately held by a huge hand with enormous claws. You looked down in search of Alastor, who had been asleep for a while in a bed made of poppies, but he was not there, and in his place was the beast with red hair, huge jaws, and eyes like...radio dials.

“Holy fucking hell, Alastor!?” the beast took one look at you before pressing you near his wounded chest, as if he was trying to shield you. Lute had to fly backwards, because of Alastor and also because Lucifer made it to the scene.

Seeing his daughter on the ground made him think the worse and he took it on not-so-poor Lute, killing her after a lot of punches. “Ah, sir?” the king of hell took a side look at you, his blood pumping with raw anger, “It’s a sleeping spell, she’s asleep” as if nothing happened, Lucifer’s mood shifted like a light switch, “Could you undo it?” his tone was a bit too stern despite his much better mood, which caused Alastor to growl in warning.

“Relax Albert, I’m not gonna hurt your girl” due to Lucifer's inappropriate insinuating gesture, Alastor tried to crush him with his free hand, failing due to the obvious advantages of the fallen angel, but he still received the message.

After waking everyone up, kicking Adam's ass back to heaven, and a quick remodel of the Hotel, everyone was able to return to their respective rooms to tend to their injuries. Alastor was the first to move towards his room, with you still in his hand.

Still in his large, demonic appearance he entered the room. You didn't remember him having a bed the last time you saw his room, and yet there was one, with red satin sheets, in which he was kind enough to gently place you on.

“Alastor, are you alright?” His size became more normal as he walked to the bathroom, as he did so his fur also began to dissipate, and if it hadn't been for his adorable little tail, you would’ve seen his full naked ass on his way to hide in the bathroom.

“Is your wing alright?” he asked, out of breath and seemingly upset, but it was hard to know from your distance. “I asked first” a robe few from the closet to the bathroom, then Alastor walked back into the room.

“I’m fine, your turn” you knew damn sure he was not okay, but you weren’t going to press the matter, yet. “It’s not bleeding anymore” you showed him the cut on your extended wing, his eye twitched then proceeded to ask, “And your body?” given the extensive cuts on your cheek, arms and legs.

“Alastor what the hell happened back there? I appreciate you getting defensive, it was a bit attractive, not going to lie- I mean, how the fuck did you woke up?!” It hit you harder than a train when you put two and two together.

"I don't know, I just did" the fact that his dream started out as a nightmare, the scenario similar to how he died, and then there was you. It was unconscious to wake up and transform, but the fact that he took you in his hands and had the intention to protect you was not only visceral but also something that he felt was right.

“That’s impossible” he shook his head at your words, "Listen, in your spell, was it my head making you talk or...were you really there?" He sat in front of you, bandages in hand that he magically made appear, ready to tend to your wounds. "What do you think?" he took your hand, watching your inky black blood coloring your skin, you were an enigma to him.

"I heard you calling me" when you said that, his ears twitched. Your spells are accurate, but people's wishes are not written in stone, they change, grow and are full of life. Alastor was calling to you, whatever that reason was, it was strong, enough to split your subconscious to be with him.

You knew, just by seeing the relief in his eyes upon seeing you, that even without calling you, your image would have been reflected in his dream.

“I…I want you to stay” he brushed up your wing, to put a large band aid on the cut, his face close to yours. “I’m not going anywhere” you whispered close to his lips, “I mean–” you pecked his lips, “I know what you mean, I’m not going anywhere” his hand caressed your cheek, passing your pointy ears and down to your neck.

After a light tug he pressed his lips onto yours.

An electric feeling ran through his body, inside his pants his little tail was wagging because of how happy he finally felt with the truth on the table. To think that his heart fluttered in his chest at the thought of losing you in battle, he simply couldn't have lived with that.

“I will finish this up, you did a great work with my wound by the way” he kissed your cheek, sighing onto your soft skin.

After leaving you to be more of a bandage than a person, Alastor opened his heart to say something he hadn't said since his mother passed away. "Y/n, I think that, more than just a desire, I feel like I can't breathe properly if you're not present. The idea that you could have died yesterday filled me with rage, I couldn't tolerate the image in my head” he took your hands in his, they were shaking.

“I think that I love you, but I also feel that that term falls short, and I’m afraid I don’t understand it very well either, or you for that matter” Alastor hadn't felt this nervous since the first time he auditioned to be the new voice of the radio, and being a man of color, damn he was nervous.

Fun fact, he was less afraid when fighting Adam.

“Well, I have no desire to come back to my home-world, so we have time” a genuine smile painted his face, as he slowly pressed his lips back to yours, “You’re magical” he sighed, taking you into his arms, no matter how much it hurt post-war.

"I don't understand it either, but once I had a dream of you Alastor, similar to this"

"When?"

"Half a century before we met"

"Destined to be, then?"

"Yeah, feels like it"

"You know this means I won't let you go, right?"

"I was counting on that"

[secretmellowblog]

i just dont really understand why theyd target les mis? and like. its interrupting the work of actors and crew and house staff who dont have anything to do with fossil fuel corps. people who just paid to see the show who dont have anything to do with it.

i understand les mis is a show about rebellion and humanity but to me it doesnt make any sense.

( i say this as someone whos probably very unaware and very slow to realize the deeper meaning of things so i apologize if it comes off snobby i am just confused !! /genuine )

I'm very sorry if this comes off as rude but like.... "I don't understand why people would use Les Mis as the symbolic centerpiece of an act of protest/rebellion against the government" is just a very strange thing to say, and I'm genuinely not quite sure how to begin to respond XD. Like....it's literally Les Mis. It is Do You Hear the People Sing. The original novel was written to be a political rallying cry, it was written to bind together activists, and it has been used that way thousands of times since its publication in 1862. It's Les Mis, I don't know what else to tell you XD. Also I know this next comparison isn't perfect, but:

“I don’t understand why Les Amis interrupted Lamarque’s funeral.  Obviously I agree with Les Amis’s goals, but was this really the right way to protest? Obviously the government is doing something bad— but was this symbolic event really the right place to talk about it? Why even choose to interrupt this event, and the lives of the workers leading it and everyday people attending it? It wasn’t responsible for what was happening! 

Okay, yeah, I get the funeral is ‘symbolically significant.’  I get that Lamarque has become, in popular culture, a symbol of rebellion and resistance against a government’s unfair policies.  I get Lamarque’s funeral is a pretty big public event that has a lot of symbolic significance ties to ideas of rebellion against the state.

I get that Lamarque’s words are often seen as a rebellious call to action, so illegally interrupting his funeral could be a statement about resisting tyranny. It could be a call to action playing off the popularity and symbolic role that Lamarque has in the public consciousness.

 But at the same time— shouldn’t Les Amis have just gone to the palace and attacked the king directly? Why disrupt this symbolic event instead? They’re not really going after the people responsible! 

After all, there were so many people there who just wanted a normal day. They weren’t responsible for what the government was doing and had nothing to do with it.  They wanted to see the procession, to hear Lafayette’s speech and grieve a political figure they cared for. They wanted to hear people praise ‘resistance’ in the abstract, without actually doing it.

 Weren’t Les Amis disrupting that?  

Aren’t Les Amis bad activists? Isn’t disrupting people’s everyday lives for the sake of 'activism' always inherently a bad thing? I’m not against activism, but isn’t doing that kind of disruptive activism rude? Isn’t disrupting the lives of ordinary people just doing their jobs or going out for a special event evil— no matter why you’re doing it, or what your goals are, or whether the government actually is doing something vile that we should start to stage great events rallying against?

Even if this Lamarque's funeral has special significance because of its symbolic pop cultural ties to rebellion against tyranny—shouldn’t they have just avoided rudely interrupting some regular people’s everyday lives? 

Protests shouldn’t disrupt things. they should be big parades that don’t make anyone uncomfortable, don’t interrupt anything, and don’t disrupt any aspects of ‘normal people’s daily life.’ No one should ever target symbolic events— like a funeral for a political figure or a musical about revolution—  to make a political statement. Protests should be little quiet festivals that cause absolutely no interruption in everyday life so that we can all just safely ignore them, until the climate catastrophe they’re warning us about arrives.”