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mondaymelon · 11 months

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— "𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂...𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴?" ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ slight angst + comfort n fluff (oops i made kazuha’s part abnormally long) ⤷ They make you cry.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

At first, XIAO doesn’t understand that his words have cut you.

He was always one with a blunt, yet sharp tongue, never afraid to speak his mind or to criticize your actions on the slightest whim. After all, why should he be hesitant? His power is common knowledge - as an illuminated adepti, there’s few who can rival his dexterity.

But he never expected his words to hurt you. Xiao has never fully understood human emotion. He’s always isolated himself from the foreign concept, determined to separate him and such… frivolities. Emotions are for mortals, and he is not one of man. In his manner of thinking, he’s just helping you improve yourself, so why are you…

“Archons, Xiao. It’s always about my mistakes. My mistakes, over and over and…” Then your wavering voice cuts off as you swallow, hard. What did he do wrong? Why were you acting this way?

That’s when the aloof yaksha notices the crystal teardrops spilling from your eyes, running down your cheeks and staining the skin it trails. The slight hitch in your shallowed breath and the way you stray from his touch, trembling, anxiously wiping at your tears.

“...Love?” He isn’t accustomed to seeing you like this, avoidant of his gaze and so… vulnerable. “Wait, please-”

“Archons, love. Please, look at me.” Xiao takes your wrist in his gloved hand, his grasp cautious yet firm. His voice is pleading, quiet, strained with desperation.

“No, I… I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice shakes as he tries to meet your eye.

“Love, you are perfect. I never meant to say otherwise.” Please, believe me.

“I’m sorry. So please…” He detests the way he’s acting, heart racing so shamefully, yet still embraces you tightly, skin cold to the touch.

“Stay by my side.” ♥

KAZUHA’s eloquent wording is one that never ceases to amaze, so it’s only a twinge of misfortune that causes a misunderstanding to form.

As a poet, the way he speaks is quite ornate, a manner in which people may not comprehend. However, that’s never exactly been a problem when it comes to the communication of the two of you. You understand Kazuha, and that translates to his speech as well, so in a way, it’s only natural.

Yet…

“The show was incredible, wasn’t it?” You take Kazuha’s hand, and follow his gentle tug on yours as he leads you out of the crowd, smiling back at you. The white haired male, being the traveler he was, decided to take you for a night out in Liyue Harbor, where the two of you first ate a fine dinner, and just finished viewing a performance from the Liyue Theatre. Your heart still raced from the night’s breathtaking sights and wonders.

“Indeed it was.” He closes his eyes, a sign that he’s content, and you can’t help but widen your grin. “The main casting role, the lady with the flowing dress, was exceptionally talented. Just from the way she glided about the stage… you can tell she’s experienced, and blessed with bountiful potential.”

You nod along, albeit a little awkwardly. There’s nothing out of the ordinary for the two of you to discuss such topics, but for some reason, the way he’s speaking about her just makes your insides want to crawl.

He’s still droning on, eyes sparkling. “...Then, at the final scene, when she began to sing… say, Love, why don’t you try theater? It might suit you well. Maybe one day you’d be on a stage, just like her.”

What the male meant was: try theater out, you’d do well.

But what you heard, instead, was: you should do theater too. then you could be as brilliant as her.

You hated the way it felt like he was comparing the two of you, weighing which one held more worth.

“I know! We’ll be staying here for a while, so why don’t I sign you up for…” His voice trails off as he lets go of your hand, aware of the tears that are starting to form in your wells. “Love, what… what’s wrong?”

“Kazuha… please, stop.”

“...What?” He seems genuinely clueless, but clasps but your hands in his, a worried gaze written all over his face. “No, I…”

“Please stop comparing me to her. I already know I don’t deserve you… it’s just…” Fuck, now you really couldn’t stop the way the droplets started rolling down your cheeks, stray tears falling from your eyes and splattering onto the wooden planks below. All of your discomfort seemed to infuse themselves into the shameful adrenaline that was coursing through your veins, because you had worried if you weren’t good enough for Kazuha. Someone as lackluster as yourself, going out with a handsome young swordsman, intelligent, kind… he was loved by many, and you…

“...Love, please!”

When did he get so close? He’s leaned in, concerned, crimson-eyed gaze trained onto your every movement. “What are you even thinking about, to be breathing so heavily… no, c’mon love, look at me.” And when you do, eyes meeting his, his mouth morphs into a somewhat smile. “There must’ve been a misunderstanding.”

“Because you are most certainly superior to any other person in Teyvat.”

“And of all people, you…”

“I am the one not worthy of your love, so don’t ever say that again.” ♥

SCARAMOUCHE doesn’t care at all, why should he?

He said some stuff that you took too close to heart, so what? If he hurt you, why should he fret over it? You’re strong enough to take it. All he said was one or two harsh words that merely came to mind, so there’s no need for you to be all wounded over it, either.

“Yeah, you’re pathetic.” Scaramouche scoffs at you, one hand on his waist while the free one makes sarcastic motions in the air. “You can’t even get one thing right, can you?”

The “thing” in question, in fact, was making Scaramouche dinner. You added a pinch too much salt, and now the male seemed to act like you’d committed a grave offense upon humanity… but then again, he was always dramatic, so this time shouldn’t be any different, right?

“I… I tried my best…” Your voice trails off as you cringe under his undermining glare.

“Clearly, your ‘best’ wasn’t enough.” His jeering tone is enough to make your heart shatter as you glance up at him, eyes wide. You don’t realize you’ve begun crying until you feel the sensation of tears spilling down your cheeks, falling from your eyes with silent melancholy as you seem to choke on your own words.

“Why are you… why are you crying?” You’re scared to look up at him, whatever expression he’s making, so you keep your head down, pitifully wiping your tears away.

“I’m not.”

“Sure you aren’t.” His voice is airy as he rolls his eyes, frowning at you. What, now you get to act all disheartened? What did he even do to upset you?

“I’m not crying.”

“C’mon, Kuni. It’s okay to say if you’re sad. Here, cheer up, and I’ll give you this flower, okay?”

A voice echoed in his head.

“...Huh?”

And it’s strange, really, how the sight before him mirrors one from long before. The way your eyes hold so much sorrowful desperation, the way you seem so broken inside, and most of all, the way the tears that run down your face seem achingly familiar.

“Shit.” His voice seems small, too small. “Wait, love, I-” His voice cuts off as he sighs, unsure of what to say. The beating of his anxious heart overpowers all noise.

“Love, I was… joking. I don’t mean any of it.”

“You being here is a blessing of itself.”

“Archons, please know how much I love you.” ♥

(a/n) i accidentally made xiao's part the shortest i am a disgrace to humanity

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majestyeverlasting · 10 months

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A Little Less Restless

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (friends to lovers)

Summary: As Bucky finds himself within the still familiarity of Brooklyn, he comes to realize that he deserves nice things. And, most of all, that he deserves you.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I haven't posted any new writing in a bit, and it feels good to be resolving that (yay me). Please enjoy this piece I wrote today. Lot's of fluff and very obvious feelings. It's been a while since I wrote something for him. <3

Three knocks sound on Bucky’s front door as his reflection stares back at him in the bathroom. He's leaning close to the mirror in careful criticism. Enough to see the green flecks in his irises. The freckles on his cheeks from being in the sun. The pricks of hair making up his scruff. Then he eases back and squares his shoulders. They fall after he releases a breath.

He prays he doesn’t look as restless as he feels.

The smile you give him when he answers the door carries a warmth he isn’t sure he deserves. But he takes it because that’s all he can do. Enjoy it like a man who’s been cold his whole life. By some miracle, he feels himself smiling back in that small, weighted way of his. It was a trade off of sorts, and now you’re even. No outstanding debts.

He motions you inside with a soft please, and you study him once you’re in the foyer. In the few seconds that you’re silently observing, Bucky wishes he knew exactly why. As tender as your gaze is, heat was already rising to his cheeks. But like everything else when it comes to you, he takes it. Looks right back at you shyly, pushes his hands into his pockets, and waits.

“Your hair’s shorter,” you finally say, smile growing wider. “Did you cut it?”

“Cut it,” he repeats like a question, hands moving to run through it. The previous night creeps back to the forefront of his mind.

When he’d gone for a walk to get some air and inadvertently found himself being drawn in by the red, white, and blue barber’s pole spiraling on the next block. It’d been ages since he’d gone to a professional, but walking inside to the faint scent of tobacco and aftershave made him feel as though he’d never stopped.

“Mhm,” you hum, certain.

The stumped look on his face vanishes like it was never supposed to be there. “I went and got it trimmed at a place called Ricky’s last night.”

“And you forgot that quickly?” Next thing he knows, you’re wrapping him in an embrace, peeking up at him after a few seconds, “I’m teasing.”

He squeezes you back tighter.

It’s you who eventually pulls away, and he finds himself trailing you as you venture deeper into his apartment, eyes roving thoughtfully. A coffee table now complements the couch in the living room. The walls are no longer bare. At long last, the space was beginning to look more like a home.

For the longest time, Bucky had only seen it as a place to rest his head after countless assignments that took him miles away. It didn’t need to be anything special, or so he thought. One of the first things you told him upon coming into his life was that he needed a constant. A place to come back to that he could make his own. That was his. He’d spent so much of his life serving other people and belonging to other people that he was finally learning what it meant to be his own.

It was exhausting not being halfway across the world with a task to busy his mind. Brooklyn was still in comparison. A place where he could recognize street names, faces, point out buildings that used to be something else when he was a kid. And now there was you, who made being stateside worthwhile in a way he didn’t think was possible. He realized then, how much he’d deprived himself of meaningful connections outside of work.

“It looks great in here, Buck. What’d I tell you?” Your earnesty is genuine. Makes him, as old and borderline cynical as he is, feel special. “You’re gonna have to start inviting me over more.” You shoot him a wink, and he freezes because of the weight of the implication. If you notice, you don’t say anything.

A few months ago you’d been strangers crossing paths. Then acquaintances. Now friends who cared about each other a whole awful lot. Only, it was more obvious on your end. He kept most of his sentiments guarded, not yet ready for them to bleed out like an open wound. It didn’t help that you were always wielding a knife, coming closer and closer to cut through the wall he built around himself.

“You can come over whenever you want,” he says. “I’m always here.”

“When you’re not on assignment,” you add. “And I know. I just don’t want to scare you away.”

Bucky frowns at the suggestion, but his lips eventually turn up. “Good thing you’re not a scary person,” he says, counting on earning a laugh. Something.

And you do, right before shaking your head. “I’m serious.”

“You couldn’t scare me away,” he assures.

You nod slowly. “So how’ve you been?” There’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue, so he waits it out. It ends up punching him right in the gut. “You look…I don’t know.”

It hadn’t been all too long since he’d come back from Morocco. Only a week. And it would be a while before he was sent out anywhere else. His mind was in the constant process of drifting to the type of thoughts all men sifted through when they have nothing but time. Those regarding purpose, belonging, and meaning. Not to a deep, crippling degree, but enough to make him want to spring into some sort of action. Find something to indulge in that wasn’t saving the world.

Bucky swallows and shifts his weight. “Restless,” he offers. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I’ll always notice.” Silence stretches between the two of you and a siren wails in the distance. “Maybe we can go out tonight, just you and me. Is that something you’d wanna do?” The question sounds shy.

What you didn’t know quite yet is that he’d probably do just about anything if it was with you.

***

At the end of the night, it’s Bucky who pulls out his card and pays for dinner. Not even giving you the chance to think about digging into your purse. As an old tune continues playing overhead, your grateful eyes sparkle at him from across the table.

Neither of you had dined here before. It’s one of the places Bucky said used to go by a different name and was run by a different family, Italians. You liked listening to him talk about what once was because it made you realize just how much he knew. Just how thoughtful and reverent he was when it came to the good memories he had.

Being listened to so intently was new for him. But he enjoyed it. Especially when you’d ask questions or bring up a point he made further back in the conversation. By the time the waiter comes back around with his card and his copy of the receipt, the two of you are basking in the memory of the evening and thinking about what the rest of the night may hold.

“This was really nice,” he says, folding his napkin and setting it aside on the table. Then his expression becomes consumed by a certain solemness. “I don’t know how well it comes across, but I need you to know that I appreciate you. A lot.”

Your heart nearly bursts. “I know, Bucky,” you promise. He still looks unconvinced, so you extend your hand face up on the table for him to take. “I know.”

The cab ride back to his place is quiet. You hold onto his hand the whole way, relishing the feeling of his thumb tracing back and forth over your skin. It’s a gesture that says I’m here with, I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me. Brooklyn passes by in rushes of darkness peppered with light. Pedestrians walk alongside the streets, some holding hands just like the two of you. It isn’t long before the driver pulls up alongside the curb of the complex.

It isn’t until you’re in the elevator that you’re sure that you want to stay.

The two of you get off at the fifth floor.

“Is it okay if I spend the night? If not, I completely understand. I know it’s such short notice,” you ramble as he’s turning his key into the door. He hopes you don’t notice the way he falters. But part of him knows you do. You don’t miss anything. Luckily for him, you’re just as fazed by your own question, holding your breath.

It’s not until you’re inside that he graces you with an answer, “‘Course you can.”

Your shoulders drop in relief. What you’re not expecting is the laugh he tries to bite back. Maybe it was mean of him, but he liked knowing he could make you sweat. Sometimes it seemed like it was only ever you who made him openly anxious.

“You’re terrible,” you accuse, failing at restraining a smile. “Absolutely horrible.” You’d forgotten to throw away an empty water bottle before you left, and it’s the closest thing you’re able to throw his way in retaliation. He catches it and tosses it in the trash himself.

Mischief written all along his smile when he starts towards you.

Partly scared and partly excited, you think to flee at the last second. After a few measly steps, you’re being pulled back into the firmness of his chest. He’s sure enough laughing now, the vibration rushing straight into your back right along with the warmth of his body. So are you. He only has one arm secured around your waist and, despite the fact that he’s not even trying, it's enough to hold you.

“Wait, wait, wait—hold on a second!” your words come out giggly both because you’re anticipating some sort of attack, and because he’s never held you quite like this before. Unlike a normal hug, this feels like he has you rather than you having each other. It’s vulnerable. Dizzying.

“You win, you win!”

“What?” he laughs in surprise. His mouth is so close to your ear that you shiver. “Thought you had more fight in you than that,” there’s a playful warmth to his words.

You shake your head in denial and relax back into him. You didn’t stand a chance of winning unless he let you, and you were more than willing to tap out early. Because even so, you were still in his arms at his mercy, and somehow that felt like the safest place to be. By the time you realize both of your laughter has faded to a thoughtful silence, he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to the shell of your ear.

When he lowers his arm from around your waist, you turn around to face him.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. He suddenly looks boyish, younger. Having crawled out of whatever shell of crushing expectation and responsibility he usually resided within.

When he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, his shoulders relax and his breaths slow. And for once, he indulges. In you. In the prospect of having someone to lean on and being leaned on in return. It’s a reminder that he’s allowed to experience nice things. To have a life to look forward to outside of lending himself to cause after cause.

You’re soft, and warm, and everything good a person could be. He pulls away slowly after a while, blinking down at you with heavy eyelids. You’re looking right back at him like he’s the world itself.

“Maybe you’re not so terrible,” you whisper, smiling.

Of everything he was feeling now, restless wasn’t one of them.

Thank you so much for reading! I promise I see every like, comment, and reblog and appreciate them all very much.

To join my “taglist,” follow @taleseverlasting

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x fem reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n

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pbueckerslover · 6 days

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her jersey.

paige bueckers x female reader

summary: you wear paige’s jersey to her game to support her.

warnings: smut smut smut !!!

notes: this is my first story and first time writing smut so pls feel free to send suggestions or criticism lol

you and paige have been dating for about 5 months now. it’s been perfect and everything you could have imagined. your favorite thing to do is go to her games and see her play. today she has a game and you decided you wanted to surprise her a little bit so you bought a jersey with her number on it.

so you wear the jersey to the game and you’re sitting in the stands watching her play. once the game comes to and end you have a huge smile on your face because they just won! you couldn’t be more happy and proud of her, all you wanted to do was run down there and give her the biggest hug and kiss her all over, but you couldn’t. you and paige have decided to keep your relationship a secret. sure people have definitely started to suspect things as they see the two of you together so often but you try not to make it too obvious.

so you make your way back to your hotel room and send paige a text.

you: “hey baby i’m so proud of you!! come up to my room when you can i miss you and have a surprise :)”

you send the message and set up the room for her. you lay out flowers and light some candles. you stay in her jersey and change into some shorts. about 20 minutes later you hear a knock on the door.

you walk over to the door and when you open it you’re greeted with your beautiful girlfriend smiling one of the biggest smiles you’ve ever seen. she’s sweaty and her hairs a mess but somehow she still looks fucking amazing. and god that uniform makes her look even better.

“hi babe.” she says as she looks at you up and down taking in everything. “shit all this for me?” she says as she walks into the room.

“i wanted to surprise you. i’m so happy for you you’ve been doing so good.” i say as i smile at her. she walks closer to me and i shudder as she places her hand on my cheek. “you’re so amazing. i love this and i love you.” she says and places a kiss to my lips. “also my jersey looks fucking amazing on you baby.”

“you think so?” i reply as she’s staring at me like all she can think about is ripping it off.

“god you don’t even know what seeing you in that does to me.” she says and now she has her other hand on my waist. she pulls me closer and our lips finally meet again but this time it’s more intense.

she picks me up and i wrap my legs around her waist. she carries me over to the bed and lays me down. “wanna show you how much you mean to me.” she whispers as she starts to kiss down my neck. i let out a soft moan and start to take off my shirt. she stops for a second, “no leave it on.” she says looking into my eyes.

i do as she says and our lips meet again. she moves her hands inside my shirt. “no bra? god you’re driving me crazy.” i smirk at her words and she rubs her finger on my nipples. she pulls my shirt up enough so she can see my bare chest. soon her fingers are replaced with her mouth and i let out a moan.

suddenly she pulls my shirt back down and starts to kiss up my thighs. “take these off.” she growls and i do just that leaving me in just her jersey and my underwear. “you’re so wet and i haven’t even done anything yet.” she says smirking up at me. she starts to pull down my underwear and before i can even process it her tongue is on my clit.

“fuck p. feels so good.” i mumble as she starts to go faster. she adds a finger as she sucks my clit harder. i moan embarrassingly loud, “you like that baby?” i nod as she continues to go faster. “please i need more.” i say and just like that she adds another finger moving faster and faster.

“doing so good for me ma.” and that’s just enough to send me over the edge. “fuck baby ‘m so close.” as soon as she hears this she adds a third finger and starts sucking my clit harder, “want you to cum all over my tongue.” she says and seconds later i’m releasing all over her tongue just as she requested.

“you did so good.” she says as she moves up next to me and lays down. she turns to face me and places a kiss to my forehead. “i love you so much thank you for doing this for me.” she says with a smile.

“i love you more p. i’d do anything for you.” i say smiling as she pulls me closer to her. our legs intertwine and she places her hands on my lower back. she looks me in the eyes, “need you to wear that jersey more often.” she whispers into my ear.

i giggle at her and nod. “anything for you baby.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wlw #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fanfiction

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forbidden-sunlight · 3 months

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yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader Valentine's Day scenario

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], obsessive behavior, vulgar language, knowledge based on the first four episodes of the 2024 series.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only Radio Demon, Alastor and his little darling!

This is a collaborative piece with @isuckatwritingsobenice with special thanks to @witch-of-the-writing-desk and @riddle-simp for providing criticism and feedback. If you would like to read the one that started it all, I'll leave a link to it here.

As always, bullying is not tolerated here. If you have nothing nice to say, please do not say it. Furthermore, if you believe the warnings listed above will make you uncomfortable, please leave now.

For those who have decided to stay, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on for tonight's broadcast :)

Although he had figured out why you were and what he needed to do to push you in the right direction, Alastor was still annoyed with what he was…feeling towards you.

When his mother died, he had stopped feeling. There was no reason to keep feeling when the only person in his entire world was gone. Is that the reason why he became a serial killer? Who knows. Is she the reason why he keeps smiling, because he always remembered her saying that you never fully dressed without one? Absolutely! Why bother wearing a frown all the time when he could keep everyone on their toes with a smile and a salutations over the radio?

So why is it that when he thinks about you, it is like his mind is torn between annoyance and fondness? Why does he have the urge to simply hide you away from the world and keep you all to himself instead of making your misery even greater for his own amusement? He doesn’t know and if he doesn’t figure out why, he knows he will lose his temper very soon. Charlie had already demolished the second to last wall of his patience on the insistence that everyone in the hotel should participate in a crafting session to celebrate a human holiday. Valentine’s Day, of all things.

He is a gentleman. And a gentleman, as his mother has always taught him, is to never raise his hand against a woman. She did not say anything about Lucifer’s delusional daughter who believes that the people of Hell can be redeemed. Even you, someone who is just as rational and calm as he, believed in her. That a sinner had a chance to go to Heaven when their actions in life are reflected on their afterlife. It’s common sense, really.

So why couldn’t you see that? Even Vagatha was starting to have some doubts too. But she would not dare say what is truly on her mind about this passion project to Charlie’s face yet due to her incredibly strong loyalty towards the princess.

Regardless of his observations of these two ladies, Alastor found himself caught in the enigmatic web of emotions as he observed your seemingly indifferent facade from his favorite chair in the parlor. He was not helping with decorating the hotel. You were though. You stood underneath Charlie, steadying the ladder she stood with gloved hands as she pinned strings of pink and red paper hearts over the hotel’s entryway. Vagatha was nearby, busying herself with other tasks, including asking Husk to please not drink all of the red wine, they are saving it for tonight! Angel was flirting with Husk. Husk shot a rude gesture in return. Niffty was making the hotel spotless again when she already cleaned it a few hours ago. Alastor had no idea where Sir Pentious was and frankly did not care.

When he had decided to help with the hotel, he was just going to watch from the sidelines and let everything run its course. But there was something being formed here. A connection was beginning to make itself known and he did not like that. The Radio Demon comes and goes as he pleases without being tied down to anything or anyone. If this feeling continues to fester inside of him, why he’ll toss himself into the fiery pits just so that he could be his old self again!

“All right, these are all done!” Charlie said happily, pulling away to look at her handiwork with pride before she averted her gaze to you. “You good there, [First Name]? Sorry I had to pull you away from gardening to do this!”

“I don’t mind.” You said. [Eye Color] irises watched as the princess began to climb down, each step squealing creak-creak beneath her stilettos. “What will we do about snacks and dinner? We already have the drinks covered through Husk.” You held out a gloved hand to the princess on the third step from the bottom. Charlie gladly took it, but not before she spun you around, the bone-white skirt billowing slightly to reveal the laced-up boots on your feet.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out! In fact, I’ll make a grocery list for Niffty right now! Then we’ll need to see if we can add anything else. Ooh, maybe something for the staircase? Or the chandelier? This party is going to be so much fun! Can’t you feel the love in the air, [First Name]?!”

You blinked at her. “No.” You carefully distanced yourself away from her. “But I do remember there is something I need to bring inside before I forget about it again. I’ll be right back.”

You bowed your head to them and scurried across the parlor, making quick strides across the parlor and taking a left underneath the intricate railings of the grand staircase. There was a light click, and then there was silence.

The hotel, constructed on the hill, possessed a limited garden space that showcased carefully manicured flora. There was also a greenhouse. Both locations were left unexplored by Alastor because he knew the flora you had carefully tended to, and in his opinion, it was too soon to share his secret just yet. However, he did know that the door under the grand staircase, the centerpiece of the hotel’s architecture, was how you always traveled around.

Each corridor held secrets, inviting exploration and mystery within the confines of the Pride Ring’s overlook. But the door you took was a shortcut to whichever place you desired to go to: the garden or the greenhouse. Fifteen minutes passed, and then the door opened again.

Walking out of the staircase, everyone saw the bright red roses cradled carefully in your gloved hands.

Charlie squealed in delight, racing towards you with wide eyes. Vagatha followed close behind. Angel just looked up from his phone to see what was all the ruckus in faint interest.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! You did it, [First Name]! You really grew something!!” Charlie all but shouted, her excited cries bouncing across the vaulted ceilings. Vagatha leaned forward, a small smile stretching across her face. “Great job.”

“It was a little tricky, but I was finally able to figure out the proper fertilizing formula, including a place where they can get just enough sunshine but not so much that the petals would not be burned. An inch of water each week. Too much water and I might actually kill the roots.” You explained. “Since the weather doesn’t change much down here except for the occasional acid rain, these actually had time to grow.” You then took one flower, holding out to Vaggie. “For you.” You said, then placing another one in Charlie’s hands. “And you. If you’d like to make them last for a little longer, put them in a vase with sugar water.”

Charlie beamed. “Thank you!”

“Thanks.” Vagatha said.

You inclined your head, then crossed the room and proceeded to pass around your hard earned flowers to everyone. You kneeled down to Niffty’s height, tucking one behind her ear before standing up. She jumped up and down in happiness, causing the flower to fall but she caught it, holding it as if it’s the most precious treasure she had ever been given. She promised to give you something in return, to which you politely declined.

You walked over to the bar and handed a rose to Husk. He stared at the flower, then back at you before he put down the bottle he had been drinking from on the counter, plucking it from your hand. “Thanks kid.” He muttered, laying it next to him and then taking another swing of his booze. Angel immediately slid into one of the booths, grinning toothily at you.

“Got any for me, toots?”

You held out a rose to him. He made a flirty joke and promptly shoved it in his chest. “So~? How do I look?” He crooned, batting his eyes at you as he pushed up his chest floof right in front of your face. Honestly, when will this whore learn this is not how someone speaks to a lady?

Your countenance held a fleeting perplexity at his vulgar words and actions, your brow furrowing for a moment before your stoic expression returned…though Alastor could see…an inquisitive expression in your eyes. You were thinking about something. What he did not know and he was quite curious to see what you do next.

So he sat in silence and watched.

He watched you stretch your hand outwards, carefully extracting the rose from Angel’s person. Angel opened his mouth, no doubt ready to complain when he froze midway as you artfully placed it on the right side of his head. You withdrew, casting a scrutinizing gaze upon him before nodding in approval.

“Flowers adorning your hair enhance your allure far beyond the glimmer of rainbow glitter or imitation jewels.” You said. For the first time since he arrived at the hotel, the famous pornstar Angel Dust was rendered completely speechless. The only thing he could stutter was a ‘thanks’, a faint red hue staining his pale face.

The gradual decay of the rose in your hand did not escape Alastor’s notice and he was delighted. A manifestation of the latent powers he possessed, to cause living things within a certain distance to wither. He smirked, appreciating the subtle dance of his influence. You spun around, meeting his gaze. “Permission to approach, sir?”

Husk gagged. Vaggie groaned. He laughed.

“Of course you can~!” He said. Oh, you were trying so hard to respect his personal space, how adorable! Goodness, hadn’t you caught on that he only touches people that he is interested in? Why, he’s touched Charlie’s shoulders so many times that he is shocked that Vagatha hasn’t tried to stab him out of jealousy!

So you approached him. But when you held out his rose to him, it was already dead.

You were shocked but you did not need to say anything; your face, and your eyes, told him everything. He was pleased and amused all at the same time. What would you do next? He thought. You looked down at the rose, then back at him. Carefully placing the other rose, the one that wasn’t completely decayed yet, on the coffee table. Your gloved fingers coiled around the stem of his rose and deftly snapped it in half. You took another step, and leaned forward to pin it to the left side of his coat.

You took a step back. You looked at the flower, then back at him. “It still suits you.” You said. “Although it is dead, a decayed rose suits you just as much as a fresh one.”

Alastor felt his withered heart pulse under his skin for the briefest moment until it went still again. He knows he is a dapper of a gentleman, someone who takes pride in his appearance and knows how to use it to his advantage. But hearing your compliment made him preen in his seat. Almost. He had a reputation to uphold.

“Coming from you my dear, that is the highest praise I had never believed would be uttered from your lips~!” He said, abruptly standing up from his chair and staring down at you with a grin. “Now that I’m all spiffed up, it’s your turn~!”

You tilted your head to the side. “I don’t understand.” You said with an expressionless face.

“I just remembered that I have an errand to run in our dear city, and I am in need of your skill sets~!” He was rambling. He knew it and it was pissing him off because the Radio Demon does not stutter or act flustered around anyone. He snapped his fingers, feeling the familiar thrum of his magic as it left his body, evaporating into a plume of red mist that covered your body before it disappeared as quickly it had come. Gone was the same outfit you wore every day, and in its place was an outfit much more suited for any self-respecting woman; a light pink sequined flapper dress, a rope of pearls around your neck with a nice little cloche hat to top it off. And he mustn’t forget the pair of white heels on your feet!

Yet just as the applause track echoed across the parlor, Alastor noticed that you looked away from him. You were uncrossing and crossing your adamantine skeletal arms, the gloved hands being the remaining piece from exposing the scars of war entirely to curious eyes.

Oh. Oh. You were even quivering? Such a shame.

Trying his best to ignore the disappointment gnawing at his bones, Alastor sighed and snapped his fingers again, dispelling the enchantment on you and simultaneously replacing the outfit with something….much more suited to your style, but matching him in every sense of the word. A white ruffled white blouse poking out from the collar of a red waistcoat, a matching ruffled skirt that covered your legs and stretched to your ankles, where the black-heeled stilettos peeked out from. The white gloves were dyed to onyx, and the cute hat was replaced with one that had a wider brim with a black rose stitched on the side. In your hands was a red parasol. But his favorite, personal touch was the ruby brooch shaped like a stag, like him.

Replacing the emerald one you wore every day, supposedly in memory of Major Gilbert. The man whom you claimed did not love him romantically since you cannot love. That tad-bit he had overheard when you shared one thing about yourself in the group exercise.

But more importantly, you no longer seemed anxious. In fact, you were back to your normal, monotone self~! How wonderful and annoying!

Alastor grinned in approval, twirling his microphone expertly between his fingers before rapping the end of it against the floor with a loud thump. “Now then, shall we be off, my dear~?” He said, extending his arm for you to take. You looked at him, then back at Vagatha before you stepped towards him, very cautiously placing your gloved hand in the crook of his arm. It took a lot of self-control to not pull away in disgust from the contact, but he held onto his composure because he is a gentleman not a brute.

“Now then, let us be off~!” He bellowed.

“You’re supposed to actually be helping us around the hotel, not fucking off, you prick!” Vagatha yelled, her lovely silver hair standing on end as she swore in Spanish. Charlie was trying to calm her darling down with a sheepish smile, wishing the two of you a good time and don’t worry about a thing. Alastor just grinned and quickly led them out of the hotel, down the steep hill and into the city.

Though as soon the two of you were parading through the streets, you immediately pulled away from him and stood exactly five feet behind him. He could not help but feel amused by your antics, nor the relief of actually having his personal space back even when he had offered his arm for you to take, not the other way around. You knew better than to initiate contact. Although unexpected joy hummed in his veins, this…genuine connection, this bond, began to chip away around the edges of his collected facade. And as the two of you continued your walk through the Pentagram at a steady pace, there was also this irritable and irresistible annoyance starting to bloom in the back of his head and quite frankly it was beginning to give him a headache. Why is he feeling so many things at once? Can’t feelings have an arranged timetable so he doesn’t lose his reputation as a fearsome overlord?

Why are feelings…so damn complicated? Why?

Not wanting to sink any further between the allure of your company and his own resistance to vulnerability, Alastor began to hum a little tune to distract himself. He did not want to think. He refuses to fall even further than he already has. He turned his head slightly, gazing at you from his peripheral vision. You were looking around curiously, watching sinners live their sinful lives and probably wondering why you had earned the same damnation as they did. At least that was what he initially thought until he saw your eyes darting from the street corners, the buildings…ah. The cameras.

You were worried about Vox seeing him after he had put the little pest in his place last week? Oh, you were quite a little darling, weren’t you?

“There’s no need to be concerned about those tiny picture boxes, my dear!” He exclaimed suddenly. “This face was made for radio, the proper medium to express oneself!”

“...You’re certain?”

“Of course! Now it should be around here…ah-ha! Here we are! Follow me or you might get swept up by another gentleman!” Alastor joked as he quickened his pace towards a mortar-and brick building sandwiched between two other more modern buildings on the other side of the street. The restaurant, embraced by mortar and brick, stood between modern edifices. Its interior exuded a warm ambiance, with dim lighting casting a subtle glow on polished wooden tables. The booths were nestled in the back, providing a private setting for the two of you. The menu possessed an array of culinary delights, promised a refined venison experience.

Rosie had recommended this place to him a while back, but never got around to it after he left for his sabbatical seven years ago. You did not keep him waiting, matching your stride with his and the host’s.

Despite just how much the host trembled in fear at the sight of him, handing out the menus and stuttering the name of their server, the host couldn’t stop staring at you with a dazzled, licentious look in his eyes. Alastor had to hold back the urge to make the server part of his menu. Or maybe he shouldn’t? Perhaps this youngster needed a reminder just who he is?

“…Alastor? Alastor? Sir?”

Your voice called out to him, the barest hint of concern laced with curiosity before he shook himself out of his thoughts. “Yes, my dear?” He asked.

“Are we doing a reconnaissance mission?”

The static around him screeched to a halt, and he stared at you with an incredulous expression.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You had said that you needed my skill sets on this outing,” You said, blinking at him, folding your gloved hands together on the sleek wood table. “My specialties from serving in the war include that as well as hand-to-hand combat and weapon handling. Is….this about new territories that are up for the taking? Why was the extermination date moved up to six months? Or this mission on a need-to-know basis?”

…He knew you were oblivious to Angel’s flirtatious remarks and modern slang, but he did not think that it would extend that you did not know that when a gentleman takes a beautiful lady for a night around the town, it means he has the intention of courting. What sort of life had you lived before coming down here? More importantly, how does he explain without looking like a complete fool?

The Radio Demon thought for a long moment before a proverbial lightbulb went off inside his mind. Yes, he thought delightfully. That will do. Mirroring your position - spine straight, bony fingers interlaced, and placed neatly on the table, maintaining eye contact. He spoke.

“Considering your skills-set, I wanted to see if you are truly as talented as you claim to be~! And there is no better way to evaluate a person’s worth than through a simple test. A game, if you will!” He leaned forward, pushing a wave of his powers throughout his body, releasing it from the bottom of his shoes and scattering throughout the establishment. Well, his friends at least. Now for the rules.

“My shadows are somewhere in this restaurant. Some are easy to see at first glance, some are not~! Find all six of them, and you get a prize! If you guess incorrectly, however, then you must truthfully answer a question I will ask. The time limit will be until we leave, and you must maintain eye contact with me at all times! Since this mission is….a personal one of mine, you must be able to blend with the crowd and not draw attention to yourself, to us, or this mission will be compromised. Any questions?” You shook your head.

“Wonderful~!” He bellowed in delight

And then the game began.

Between interruptions with their server and mild conversation, you whispered where each shadow as you looked at the second side of the menu, unable to decide what to try. He obviously recommended the venison, and he would either say you found a shadow or guessed incorrectly. By the time you had informed the server of your entrees, you found three out of six. You got two tries wrong. Alastor got two questions out of you.

“What was your life like before coming down here, my dear?” He asked.

“I served in The Great War as a soldier of the Leidenschaftlich Army. My commanding officer was Major Gilbert Bougainvillea.” You answered. “When I was relieved from my duties, I worked at a postal company until my death.”

“And do you know what it means when a gentleman asks a young lady to join him for an outing?”

You opened your mouth, and then closed it, confusion flitting across your face for the briefest moment until you answered him. “I do not.” You said slowly. “From my experience in the barracks, the men would escort the young ladies that have caught their interest to the pub or somewhere else…and they would not come back until past curfew. The major would lecture them if he caught them. He told me…it was a sex thing. But I was too young to understand what he meant back then.”

Alastor almost choked on his venison at your words, his equilibrium thrown off for a moment before he quickly recovered, swallowing the delicious morsel and maintaining his dignity by wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I…see.” He said slowly. “And you are aware that this is not that kind of courting, correct?”

“Yes.” You answered. “Because you do not like anything related to sex, which is perfectly fine.”

“But do you know that when a gentleman courts a young lady without…that in mind, it is because he has a romantic interest in her?” He asked, staring at you straight in the eye. “And he would like to get to know a little more in a setting that does not include any third parties?” There. He thought as he saw your eyes widen just a fraction. Understanding. You were catching onto his intentions! Finally, another emotion! You have shown him another expression besides indifference and confusion! Good job! Now will these blasted feelings finally go away? Out of sight, out of mind as they say!

Then the look on your face melted away, becoming a mask of stoicism as you answered him softly.

“I appreciate the sentiment….but I am afraid that I am no longer capable of feeling emotions, at least…what it truly means to love someone. It can come in many forms and is expressed differently with each person. The romantic sense…it isn’t meant for me. And I’ve come to terms with that when I was alive, and when I came here. I am grateful for what I already have.”

In the back of his mind, Alastor had actually thought he would get another reaction out of you, perhaps seeing your cheeks turn red and hear your heart thumping against your rib cage. But at the cost of hearing someone actually reject his advances?

That does not seem quite fair, does it? He chuckled darkly in amusement.

“Hm~. You say that you are no longer capable of expressing yourself beyond a grim facade? I beg to differ, my dear. I have seen you show discomfort, anxiety, and understanding all within a single day of being in my company. I can guarantee that’s the most I have ever seen of you since you came to the hotel.” He craned his head to one side, still smiling. “But fear not, I wholeheartedly welcome a challenge.”

With that being said, he graciously decided to extend the little game with the progression of their meal, right up to when the waiter brought them your desserts. There were still three shadows to find, and he continued his line of questioning, observing your reactions and demeanor as you answered him.

Alastor will not lie and say that your rejection of courtship did not bruise his pride. He was used to being feared and worshiped in a single breath. Being liked was something else entirely, yet being disliked? Quite rare, with the exception of Vox and the other Vs.

“You can certainly keep me on my toes, darling.” He said playfully as he stood up from his seat, walking to your side and offering his hand. You stared at him owlishly before placing your hand in his gloved one.

“My mind cannot change that easily I’m afraid, Alastor. You are wasting your time.” You said.

“We shall see, my dear. Perhaps you just need a little more…persuasion.” He replied, before delivering the final question to you, a personal one: how many had you killed when you were a soldier? You replied. I cannot remember anymore.

He was quite stunned at your answer…but he was satisfied, and that was all that mattered. He knew more about you than Charlie probably could ever pull out of you during a group exercise. No one else. Not Husk, Not Niffty, and certainly not Angel Dust nor Sir Pentious. And that gave him an advantage over anyone else who would be so bold as to approach you with a romantic intention.

“I see.” He hummed. “Come, come, you’ve passed the test~! And I did promise a prize to the winner~!”

Instead of the traditional flowers, chocolates, or stuffed animals that were given to a lover on this atrocious holiday, Alastor had purchased new ink ribbons for your Remington typewriter and another pair of leather gloves. Perhaps he will allow you to keep the outfit he dressed you up in. You did wear the same thing every day. It was better than trusting Angel Dust with upgrading your wardrobe.

You thanked him, the barest stretch of a genuine smile stretched across your face as you cradled the bag that held your gifts before it disappeared as quickly as it came, and you focused on the road ahead. Yet to him, the fearsome Radio Demon…it was such a smile that lasted long enough to commit it to his memory, and reinvigorate his desire to pursue you.

After all, no one else in this cesspool is worthy to court the soldier maiden of the Hazbin Hotel except for him…

Taglist

@frompeach

@lunaramune

@imperfectbloodmoon

@candyladycry

@sleepy-hutao

@luthefriendlywitch

@ozzersauce

@22carolina08

@weirdducky17

@justamegafan

@lanxianschoenheit

@frenchtoastmafia

@theunknowntravel3r

@nixie-writes

@hellbornediamonddreams

@riddle-simp

@chroniccorvus

@tired-of-life-86

@angelltheninth

@trecllllllll

@yandere-dark-cupid

@kanroji-san

@purposefulwhale

@likesugarandcyanide

@swallowtailcherry

@silkythewriter

@the-cat-queen-peasants

@faux-ecrivain

@angel-tsugikuni-kamukura

@rebloglikeyouneedtoo

@oucx

@victheauthor

@navierkalani

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alyakthedorklord · 1 year

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Welcome to Danny’s Part 2

People have been asking for more of this ^^ so here you go, have a really long word vomit of stuff i think is funny

(IM NOT WRITING THIS FIC GDI I HAVE ENOUGH WIP’S!)

Danny’s restaurant is ALSO manned by-

Tucker, who will fix your tech for free, has tattoos of hieroglyphics and lines of code that shift around when he gets busy.

Sam, who makes an express line for veggie orders. If you try to order meat from sam all the potted plants start trembling.

Jazz, who has a special booth in the back and Magically makes people dump their deepest secrets to her in streamlined Liminal Powers Therapy. (It’s a bit weird but hey the people she targets feel better so whatevs.)

Dani, who shares pictures from tourist traps she's visited, though there’s also some REALLY WEIRD pics of alternate realities and cult shenanigans mixed in. Some of the older patrons are concerned. She’s a little too young to do all this alone- actually, how old is she? Her father looks like he’s in his early twenties…

Dan, who is working here while “on parole” and often loudly argues with Danny about it.

“I don’t want to work in your stupid shop, Dad!”

Dan is two whole feet taller than danny and three times as wide i will not be taking constructive criticism. He’s a whole silver fox. There are some ladies who have a crush on him and they’re really concerned if he’s legal bc danny is younger than them how is Dan his child-

“Dan, how old are you?”

“I don’t know, like, a hundred sixty something?”

(Lady turns to look at Danny, who shrugs and smiles.) “time dilation. What a world we live in. Dan, kiddo, can you get some more napkins from the back?”

“Ugh, fine, dad.”

The first villain Danny ACTUALLY fights isn’t the Joker. It’s Condiment King. Dan runs away from him, which is already weird bc guy is MASSIVE, and the condiment king chases him bc YES SOMEONE FINALLY FEARS HIM PROPERLY.

Danny bursts out of the shop in righteous fatherly fury and beats the snot out of him. Everyones is confused bc… what? Dan is massive? Why is he scared? Why is the twink beating the snot out of condiment king?

“Dan had a traumatic experience with Burger Sauce.” Danny explains, glaring down at the rouge at his feet. He kicks him, growls, “Don’t mess with my kid.” And walks back inside.

No one asks, bc this is gotham. Asking is rude, and also it lessens the Mystery that is Danny’s. No one knows how the kids came into existence. No one knows, before someone from out of town (metropolis, ugh) asks about the sign.

The sign outside the shop says:

Welcome to Danny’s!

Do no harm and no harm shall befall you.

Start nothing and nothing will be ended.

We have baseball bats and fists and a mean swing.

This establishment does not serve- guys in white (suits), Vlad, Transphobes, Vlad, Clowns, VLAD.

Do not ask for the secret menu. If you can get it, Danny will offer it.

(Don’t scare the other customers, please.)

When asked who Vlad is, bc he’s banned three times, Danny just kind of sighs.

“He’s my kid's other parent. He’s an obsessive creep who completely ignores Danielle because she’s a girl, rolling in money but won’t pay his child support. You know how it is.”

Several goons ask what he looks like so they can keep an eye out. Dani happily tells them “look at Dan, take away Dad’s features, then convert 30% of his height and weight into smarminess.”

It's an effective description. Vlad gets full body tackled the moment he enters the neighborhood. Danny gives the goons free fudge (family recipe, one of the restaurants signatures)

One of the reasons Danny’s is so popular is bc its open 24/7. (Unless its one of those weird times where all the doors are locked and if you look through the window blinds theres nothing but a starry void.) One of the reasons Danny’s is so weird is bc Danny is ALWAYS behind the counter. Always. Round the clock. He doesn’t sleep, eat, anything. Some people swear he has a twin he swaps out with (clones).

Sometimes, after a really difficult customer, Danny will let out a really long sigh and mutter “time out” before glitching into a new position, with a new shirt and combed hair. No one mentions it.

Theres a deal that’s just, “beat danny in a fight you eat for free.”

The deal extends to both Dan and Dani as well. Even if you lose you get fudge as a reward for courage.

No one ever wins.

One time, a couple brought their kid, recently discharged from the hospital. Danny comes over to them and grins. “Hey, kiddo! Bet you gave your parents a scare, huh? Pulled through in the end. That means you get the secret menu!”

Parents: hey wtf?

Danny, handing over a perfectly normal menu: 😀

Kid: “ooh mommy look at the glowy stars!”

Parents: !?!?!?

Danny: 😁

Old man Dave, whose heart has stopped like three times now: “Oh don’t worry about that, prices are the same and it will help your kid feel much better. Danny’s just a little weird.”

After all, it’s not just full ghosts that get the menu. If you’ve been dead, heart stopped, soul out of body before being popped back into place, then you get it. There’s actually a pretty high number of people who get it, bc this is Gotham. People get resuscitated after rogue attacks. The ecto actually helps stabilize their soul after getting jerked between life and death so rudely.

The secret menu that they’re given is just a normal menu, scribbled over top with an ecto pen, invisible to non-secret menu havers. Different “ecto-levels” to choose from, and three extra dishes. There’s also instructions to get into the “back room” for those who can’t go intangible, though it comes with a disclaimer “not for the faint of heart.”

There’s also a small note at the bottom- “do not share food.”

Anyways, as per original post. Tim herds Joker into Danny’s radar bc he Cannot Deal Right Now. He salutes Danny, who waves back, grinning like he didn’t just come at the Clown Prince of Crime like a feral badger on crack cocaine. “Heya, Red Robin! You want a coffee?”

“Please.” Tim sighs. “You’re the best, Danny.”

Jason looks between tim and the shop danny just vanished into. “Uh, what?”

“Danny doesn’t like clowns.” Tim explains. “Or condiment king. They get close, Danny takes them out.”

Jason is incredibly confused, bc he just came back from an out of town mission, but this place is right on the edge of his territory and he should definitely know about it. He asks tim, who just shrugs.

“That shop is weird. It’s like a grocery store at 3am. I stumbled in there after a rough night and Danny just whipped me up the best coffee i've ever had. Still can’t find their website. I swear it’s bigger on the inside and the door keeps swapping from one side of that fire hydrant to the other.”

Danny comes out and passes Tim a massive coffee cup. “Come back and talk shop with tucker, okay? You’re welcome any time. Both of you, actually.”

He gives Jason a weird look and then goes back inside.

Jason, who is a little concerned that the reverence tim has is more than his average weird worship of coffee (it's just that good) goes back the next day in civvies.

He gets offered the secret menu, danny does the eye thing, Jason retreats to look at the secret menu. Unsure of what just happened, he texts tim.

Jason: Why was i given a “secret menu”

Tim: WTF WHAT DID YOU DO TO GET THAT

Jason: IDK THATS WHY IM TEXTING YOU

tim: I'VE BEEN GOING FOR MONTHS I’M A LOYAL PATRON WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT I DONT

Jason: the secret menu apparently (image)

Tim: …thats just the normal menu???

Jason: no? It looks like a kid went ham with a neon green marker tf?

Duke: you know this is the family chat right?

Steph: order the waffles

Jason: you order the waffles. Wtf is an ecto-level.

Jason asks for what danny recommends, Danny immediately gives him a milkshake and tells him it's on the house bc he “looks rough.”

Jason is kind if offended, bc he actually got a decent sleep- but then he tries it and its like.

Oh.

Now. Between the stink Tim is making, and the sudden worship that Jason has of this shops milkshakes, the BatFamily is now Curious and will Investigate.

Are the milkshakes really that good?

The full force of the Wayne Family™ isn’t exactly subtle, so they go in twos and threes over the course of a week.

Damian gets offered the secret menu, and is also directed towards Sam’s express vegetarian line. Danny just Knew. Damian accuses Tim and/or Jason of pulling a prank on him, but they both swear up and down they didn’t say anything.

Both Steph (i think? Did she fake her death or actually die idk) and Cass get the secret menu, and they keep trying to ask Tim what certain things on the menu mean. Tim Cannot See what they’re talking about. He’s starting to get frustrated. Is it some sort of magic spell?

Tim takes Kon to Danny’s. (Is it a date? A test date on a low-stakes investigation? Maybe.) Danny, who is really starting to enjoy messing with Tim, gleefully offers Kon the secret menu, and Tim the normal one. Tim bangs his head on the table.

Dick doesn’t get a secret menu, but he does notice a couple disappear through the wall. He’s almost certain he’s seen them before, but it will be a while before he remembers Kitty and Johnny from his early Robin Days.

Duke is also not offered a secret menu, but he can see the writing anyways. He can also see that some of the patrons have weird auras, and what on EARTH is up with Danny himself? He tries to ignore it, up until Steph gets him to order one of the specials off Cass’s (secret) menu. And Danny just kind of sharpens, the air going cold.

“I didn’t give you that menu. Just because you can read it, doesn’t mean you want it. Order off the right menu, please.”

Duke, freaked the hell out by the Biblically Accurate Horror that Danny is shifting into, orders off the right menu and apologizes.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Danny flips back to cheerful in seconds. “It’s just that it wouldn’t be completely healthy for you to eat it, even if you are part immortal.”

Duke bluescreens.

Alright, somethings definitely going on.

Tim and Jason both order the same thing- an oreo milkshake, one off the secret menu, one off the normal menu. Jason confirms the one from the normal menu does not taste the same and isn’t as good. Tim cannot confirm the other way around, because Jason nearly punches him when he attempts to taste it.

They take samples home, analyze them, and go over anecdotes from other patrons, trying to figure out what makes Danny’s so weird. What makes Kon, Cass, Jason, and Damian different?

Wait a second. Kon, Cass, Jason, Damian. The ones that died and came back to life.

It’s around this time that Dick remembers where he’s seen Kitty and Johnny before. Lovers from two houses, both alike in (in)dignity, had a romeo-and-juliet-esque escapade across Gotham, ending in high speed chase with Kitty’s gangster father and a fatal motorcycle accident. Both are dead. Both are in Danny’s.

Danny’s has something to do with death.

Having heard a couple stories about food of the dead, they notify Bruce (who is very concerned as to what exactly his children have been putting in their mouths) and then call in the magic users of the justice league.

It’s a mess. Dan calls Constantine a whore. Deadman and Secret (i think thats Tim’s ghost friend?) get abducted to the backroom. Dani clocks Capt. Marvel as another kid who looks older than he actually is, with magic powers, and his showing him her REALLY interesting travel photos. Zatanna is like “this place needs an exorcism” and danny just goes “ma’am please don’t exorcize my customers.”

Tag list (if you saw me attempt this before no you didn’t)

@nappinginhell @apointlessbox @thegatorsgoose @chaos-n-kindness @mimilikey @phoenixdemonqueen @treepainting @sjrose1216 @akikkobara @malice-of-the-sunrise @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @randomkiddoscrewingaround @call-me-strega @blankliferain @somera-rubina @wordsgohere95 @rukiaai @mirellacoco @stargazing-bookwyrm @bathildaburp @littlefeather345

#dp x dc #long post #dp x dc prompt #idk what im doing #welcome to danny’s

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adamsrcnan · 14 days

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OKAY OKAY here we goooo an annoyingly long-ish post about all my thoughts on The Sunshine Court

Spoilers Spoilers Spoilersss you've been warned

First things first it is so interesting to see Nora writing from not one but TWO new people's perspective. Jean's perspective is just devastating being inside his head is heartbreaking the constant fear and panic and how much of his energy is used on just pushing down every memory of what was done to him. His coping mechanisms are terrifying and i truly do hope by the end of book 2 he has a healthier way of dealing with it bc baby boy stop hurting yourself :( Every sentence was so painful to read. But also his resilience the entire time to get through it no matter what, god i fucking love him!!! He is a fighter.

Jeremy's perspective is sooooo refreshing. He is such a little sweetheart i could cry. The fact that he sends hand written letters and he's so caring and genuine but he can also be so stern. When he dropped that "i asked you a question" to Lucas fkehdjdfjdh OK SIR. I'M SAT. His relationship with the family butler is so endearing as well i need more background on that for sure! My only one criticism is that he didn't have enough pov chapters and i'm hoping we'll learn more in the second book of course because there's still so much about him and his (dysfunctional? toxic?) family dynamic that we don't know yet but also i'm greedy and i wanna know EVEYTHING about him !!!

Kevin and Jean are so just tragic it actually breaks my fucking heart like "you didn't have to slit my throat on the way out" JEAN??? and "promise me you won't try again. I can't lose you." KEVIN??? And the fact that Jean to this day is still keeping that promise. Also Jean's obvious but secret long term crush on Kevin the way it's subtly dropped every time Jean has to stamp down on his desire's and "temptations" GOD PLEASE I CAN'T STAND IT

SPEAKING OF!!! BISEXUAL JEAN ??? BI JEAN??? BI JEANNNN !!!!

Neil and Jean oh my God like where do i even start?? The guilt Jean feels at what happened to Neil in the Nest and him finally calling him by his name after Riko's death and telling him his game was good. And Neil seriously needs to give himself more credit for how much of a caring person he is because the way he indirectly told Jean that he thinks he is worth saving and didn't even hesitate before asking Stuart to send someone after That Guy after what Jean told him. Neil Josten the man that you are!!!

Jean's little sister Elodie what a beautiful name. Them being so close and him reading to her. The way he found out about her death jolted me differently. It was so awful and i'm so sorry Jean didn't get to see her grow up and meet her again.

Renee and Jean oh my god. Jean thinking she's beautiful (bitch me toooo) And the whole right person wrong time ugh i can't stand it. Him wearing her necklace all the time, enough that Jeremy always notices it. And unabashedly stealing her picture from the foxes lounge. Like he did not give a fuck. He said this one is mine. One good reason to stay alive being rainbows i'm gonna FKSJSKDHDH. Theirs would be such a soft love.

Speaking of soft loves Laila and Cat are EVERYTHINGGGG. God they are so cute with their little domestic life and their rich gay boy son who crashes on their couch with his cardboard cut out dog. That whole friendship dynamic is beautiful. Their fierce protectiveness and care over Jean as well and the patience they have with him even after the little kitchen incident. When Cat took Jean out for a drive on her motorcycle god that was such a heart warming moment and Jean helping them cook as well and becoming the girls' little sous chef it's so cute so endearing !!!

FINALLY FINALLY THE JEREJEAN DYNAMIC

PLEASE I'M GONNA SCREAM

Jeremy being the one who told Jean that Riko was dead i don't even know what to begin with THAT like hhhhhhh. The way they're both stupidly attracted to each other but won't/can't do anything about it. THE WHOLE "say yes Jeremy" SCENE WTF WAS THATTT I WAS GOING INSANEEEE. Both of them having to stop mid sentence when they catch the other looking FINE as hell. Jean being so obvious that even Lucas picks up on the way he looks at Jeremy. Jeremy being there to ground Jean in a Moment and helping him come down from it. Grabbing his face and telling him he's okay. Moving into the room with him to make him feel more comfortable !! The way Jean grabs Jeremy's chin (boiiiii). Jeremy constantly reminding Jean that he is NOT A RAVEN ANYMORE no matter how many times he has to say it. Jeremy saying he'll wait as long as it takes until Jean speaks to him. JEREMY GIVING HIM A HUG AND JEAN CLUTCHING DESPERATELY TO HIS SHIRT FUUCUFHDHSJHSSUHDH and then the "will you help me?" And the "Anything you need" AND THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE A CERAMICS CLASS TOGETHER?!?!?!!!! i can't i can't i can't i caaan'ttt

There's so much more to say but i'm gonna leave it at this for now because i need to go re-read it again and take my time with it this time round but i really could not have asked for anything better Nora truly outdid herself here !!! I'm forever grateful she blessed us with this after so long.

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halemerry · 9 months

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On Aziraphale, Protection, and the Greater Good

Alright folks. I’ve already written quite a bit about the ways the Metatron was trying to manipulate Aziraphale here, but I wanted to give credit where credit is due and talk a little bit about how I don’t think that necessarily means it worked nearly as well as the Metatron thinks it does.

Because Aziraphale? Is not stupid. It’s one of his defining traits that though he might occasionally be slow, he has always been intelligent. He has also always been a fighter. And a bit stubborn. And though the fact he is allowed to be all that and still stay soft is one of my favorite things about him, that does not mean he is soft and soft alone.

With or without Crowley, Aziraphale has nearly always been a character who, above all else, does what’s right. This is part of what Crowley loves about him and it’s part about what we as the audience love about him too. He shelters a demon on the wall he is meant to be guarding. He gives away a sword to humans and lies to God about it directly to Her face. He struggles immensely with being asked to do anything he cannot reconcile with his morals and, even if he might fight against his impulses as to what’s right for a little bit, when push comes to shove he almost always falls on the right side of that scale. It’s important especially that this is also true of him even without Crowley in the equation.

Now, Crowley makes it much easier for him to be this person. He encourages and enables Aziraphale to be himself. He complicates and challenges Aziraphale’s worldview but in a healthy way that helps him grow and develop it, but never forces Az to be someone he isn’t. He also, most importantly, gives Aziraphale someone he understands. He is a connection. And a connection that allows Aziraphale to take his time and to make the excuses he needs to, at least for a little while. Because he understands that while Aziraphale is slow to change, he is not as resistant to it as he often reads to be - especially when he thinks that change can benefit the greater good.

Because Aziraphale fundamentally loves Earth and the people on it. And he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Crowley does too. Not taking an opportunity he has to help someone has never sat well with him - even if that person is a naked Gabriel showing up on his doorstep. He does not run away with Crowley in season 1 because it would have been wrong to run away when he felt he could help and the same principle applies here too with the decision he comes to about the Metatron’s offer.

While I definitely think the Metatron was using lovebombing and other manipulation techniques on Aziraphale I highly suspect he is underestimating his new Supreme Archangel. And I highly suspect that what is happening here is not Aziraphale folding back into this own cult as much as much a few other things that could be happening.

I may poke around at a few more of these later but for now I want to focus on Aziraphale lied theory laid out here by @las-lus. This whole season has focused quite a bit on Aziraphale lying/using sleight of hand for Crowley's sake. It makes sense he would do this too to protect him from the Metatron and critically I don’t think it’s an accident that the only shot we get of his conversation with the Metatron are flashbacks from Aziraphale's narrative point of view. Reading this actually changed the whole trajectory of this meta so please take a look at it if you've got the chance! I really love this theory a lot and would've slapped this all on a reblog if it wasn't so big. (Though I'll be the first to admit I'm biased to anything that lets Aziraphale do some rescuing.)

At it's core this makes this action a protective one. He is a guardian given a flaming sword by God. He was built to protect. And we see him in this role throughout the series even if it's not always in the way we expect or in the way he was necessarily built for.

I want to start before the beginning. This scene is an important one for a lot of reasons, but for the context of this the important bit is that Aziraphale is already anxious. He’s a bit starstruck and a little baffled by the strange angel he’s stumbled into chatting with, but his primary focus in the meat of this scene is actually concern for this stranger's welfare. The instant the topic turns critical he immediately starts glancing around anxiously. This scene ends with him saying, "I'd hate to see you getting into any trouble." and giving us one of the most worried expressions I've ever seen on his face.

Then again at Eden, the first time we meet Aziraphale, we are shown him acting twice in a row for the sake of keeping others safe. We see him offer Crowley shelter from the storm and also give away his God given weapon to protect Adam and Eve. A lot of people tie Crowley to Eden for obvious reason but I think people often forget that, yes, without Crowley humans don't leave Eden but without Aziraphale they do not survive it.

We then see him in conflict over the Flood. As far as we know he doesn't act here but he quite clearly thinks it is wrong. He's high strung and tense and his attempts to rebuke Crowley's frustration feels more like him trying to convince himself.

Now we get to Job. This minisode is so fascinating to me for a lot of reasons because through most of it, against pattern, we have Aziraphale as the driving force throughout it. First we get Aziraphale checking in with Heaven to make sure there wasn't some official solution to this. (We also get a line in there that I think says a lot about Aziraphale's priorities when he specifically draws attention to his concerns for Sitis being old enough birth that many times would be hard and risky.) Once Heaven fails him here Aziraphale is the one to reach out to Crowley and Aziraphale is the one to press for them to work together. He takes a gamble, hoping that his instinct that Crowley does not want to hurt kids is accurate, and gets up in Crowley's face to challenge him when Crowley refuses to prove him right. It is not Crowley taking the lead here, bringing Aziraphale in but rather Aziraphale trusting his owns instincts are right.

Aziraphale is also crucially the one constructing the charade Crowley plays in front of the angels as Bildad the cobbler/midwife. Aziraphale immediately and without hesitation provides Crowley with the pieces he needs to make the lie convincing enough. He tells him that what they need is an expert on human births and Crowley rolls with it and then clarifies very quickly that Gabriel witnessed Eve's birth, signaling to Crowley that mimicking that would be the play.

He is trying to tip the scales to get the outcome he wants - to keep this family safe - before he ever utters a lie. And then he does. He lies directly, giving his word as an angel. This is an act that eats him alive inside. He literally thinks he has fallen for this and has perfectly resigned himself as being damned to Hell for it and does it anyway. Because he knows it was right. Because he thinks a family of five he has no real connection to are worth falling to protect.

By the time we hit the Globe in 1601 Aziraphale's primary objection to their Arrangement has evolved from concern about what Head Office will think into concern specifically for Crowley's safety.

Then in 1827, even if it's in a misguided way, his concern starts out on Elspeth and her soul. He tries to protect her and very quickly changes his tune as soon as he's given proper evidence that what she was doing was net good. Again he is the one driving most of this narrative and the duo's actions forward as Crowley drifts along trying to get him to see that some actions aren't fully good or bad but can exist in a moral gray space. We also get him verbalizing his own moral code here explicitly when he wants to heal Morag.

He continues to have concern for Crowley on the forefront of his mind - asking very quickly after his good deed for Elspeth if he's safe or if hell noticed and then a few years later denies Crowley holy water out of concern that it could destroy him.

In 1941 we first get him operating under cover trying to unsuccessfully lie his way into dispatching some Nazi. We then get him offering himself as a magician for Crowley's sake and using sleight of hand to keep evidence of their relationship from making its way to Hell.

In particular I want to draw attention here to the fact the episode we revisit this moment in has two very similar moments toward the beginning and end of it. This episode opens with what the episode is named for - Shax hitching a ride with Aziraphale. He's relatively amicable with her until she at one point implies harm to Crowley wondering out loud why he would risk destruction for Az. Then toward the end when Furfur enters the dressing room, Aziraphale is pleasant and kind until the moment it becomes clear Crowley is being threatened. In both cases his expression turns more neutral and his body language becomes more focused and serious. He is ready to protect at all costs and is done being polite to these people who threaten his demon.

From there we go to 1976. Here as he hears about Crowley's holy water heist, he makes a choice. Even though he does not want Crowley having this weapon at all and tells Crowley as much that that position hasn't changed he realizes how dangerous trying to steal it could be. So he decides to make it as safe as he can in the circumstance, putting aside his own wants and feelings for the sake of minimizing even potential harms.

Even good old 'you go too fast for me' is a form of protection here. Even if it hurts and even if it's not want they want they need at least one of them to pump the breaks to make sure they are not discovered.

Then the world nearly ends. I won't examine what happens there too closely but I think we can all agree Aziraphale was willing to do quite a lot to insure the world and Crowley were safe once Crowley gets him on board with raising Warlock. Though I do want to note I don't think it's an accident that a lot of what Aziraphale says to Crowley at the end of six has echos of the bandstand - the last event Aziraphale has to reference that he knew would make Crowley go away.

A lot of the core of the current season is built around all sorts of protective Aziraphale actions. The flashbacks all gesture at it in some capacity, and anther notable one is him sacrificing books both as weaponry and to make the ball happen. He has committed to securing their safety before a single demon even shows up looking for Gabriel. We also get him willingly risking war to defend the people in his shop. Episode six in particular shows us a lot of Aziraphale in this mode, which he's pretty much locked into from the moment the demons arrive, Whether it's protecting Gabriel, Nina and Maggie, or at one point putting his body between the demons and a whole crowd of people including Crowley.

This season is a season that emphasizes that Aziraphale is a liar. It is one that draws attention to him pulling tricks and on him learning to do that for the greater good. It it about him learning that sometimes the choices we make are often more morally gray than we would like. And most importantly it is about Aziraphale believing this world and the people in it are worth protecting.

And who does he want to keep safe more than anyone? Who did he fight to share his life with? It makes sense to me that he would do this for Crowley. It's perfectly in character and gives Aziraphale the due credit I think a lot of theories lack. Because, to me, Aziraphale isn't the one that walks away from Omelas, Aziraphale is the child who would willfully sacrifice himself to keep the people he loves safe.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens meta #aziraphale

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Dirty Work 50

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: 50 chapters?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't sleep, you just lay in an achy stupour. The sun limns the door as Loki's shadow darkens beneath it. He sat there all night, you could hear him, leaning against it, sighing, sometimes pleading for you to come out.

He groans as the door shifts with him. He exhales and you hear some cracking as he moves. He must be just as stiff as you.

“Pet,” he taps on the wood, “are you over your tantrum?”

His words sting. He speaks to you like a child. You wish he'd leave you alone, let you out, just disappear!

He stands with another long groan and you feel him leaning on the door. He jiggles the handle then hits the wood in frustration. He hisses. Good, you hope it hurts.

Tears spring as you feel guilty just as quickly as that spiteful thought rose. You don't want to hurt anyone. You never have. You just want to be.

“You cannot lock me out forever. I must clean up,” he demands.

You don't argue. You don't mention he has another bathroom. Two even. You don't have the energy.

“Must you persist in this stubbornness?” He snaps.

All he ever has for you is criticism. Just like your father. And you're just the same useless girl.

You don’t answer. You get up, keeping your back to the door. You tell him over and over to leave you alone. It doesn’t work. So you’ll just ignore him.

You go to the tub and crank on the faucet, the water splashing down loudly as you flinch as the sudden gush. You hear a thump on the door but focus on testing the temperature of the water with your fingers. You don’t listen to see if he goes, to you he’s just not there.

You strip off the camisole nightie and step into the tub before it fills. You lay in the burgeoning depths as it slowly rises over you. Goosebumps rise on your body yet the water offers little warmth for you. Even as it steams up to your shoulders.

You sit forward to twist off the tap and lay back with a sigh. You wet your hands and drag them over your forehead, the water trickling down to dampen the bandage across your nose. You don’t know what you’re doing or what to do. You never really did have much of a plan. Life was always just day to day. Survival.

Your lashes close as dampness lingers on them, fueled by a new flow from within. Your tears trickle out and you sniffle. Your mind wanders to a woman you never knew.

Was this what it was like for her? Confusing? Scary? Or did she love your father? Was he different when it was only her?

How can you even begin to know her when you don’t even know yourself? You are not your mother’s daughter. You are no one’s. You are no one.

You don’t languish long in the tub. You drain it and sit shivering on the toilet lid, wrapped in a thick cotton towel. You stare at your hands and think but you’re empty. You can’t live inside your mind, just like you can’t live inside this room.

You stand up and storm towards the door. You stop short and gulp. You won’t let him lock you up. Not any longer. Maybe your mother was a brave woman and maybe you can be too.

You flip back the lock and pull the door open. The bedroom is empty. He’s gone. You deflate. Just as you found a semblance of courage.

You cross to the other door. The handle won’t turn. You expect as much, just like you should’ve expected him to leave before he could hear you.

You back up and peer around. Your eyes narrow on the window and you tilt your head. You can go too.

You rush over to the closet and push the door open. You search through the hanging garments clumsily, hangers whining on the bar. You pull down a plain black blouse and equally simple pants. You dress as you peek over and over at the door. You don’t have shoes but you don’t care. You double up socks and go to the window.

What do you even care about shoes? You don’t have anything.

You hook your fingers into the notches along the bottom of the window and lift. It doesn’t budge. You whimper as your knuckles ache from the effort. You pout at the glass, contemplating the best way to shatter it. Your gaze wanders up to the latch at the top. Oh, it’s locked!

You slide the lock back and try again. It opens. You can barely believe it. A way out, but what comes after. You don’t have to think of that now.

You poke your head out and peek around the green lawn. The birds tweet and the trees sway with the breeze. You stick your arms out next and rest your stomach against the sill. You lift one knee and haul yourself over the ledge, dragging your other leg out awkwardly.

The roof is steep and offers little traction. As you manage to crawl onto the slope, your head spins from the drop just below the eaves. Don’t look down, that’s the first rule right. You search for a safer descent than the vision of yourself plummeting to the ground.

Just along the far side of the house, just at the corner, the ivy lines a faded trellis. You can try to ladder down on that and if not, you’ll turn back and act like nothing happened at all. No, there’s no going back. Just go.

You move carefully, turning to face the house. Your fingers grip beneath the bricks as you place your feet against the shingles, little grip through the socks. That was a bad idea.

As you inch along, flush to the roof, wriggling bit by bit, you hear the low hum of an engine. You don’t think much of it, it’s probably just a passerby. You focus on your own flight. You won’t have a car, just your feet. How far can you get?

The sudden ring of the gate frightens you. You jerk and nearly lose your bearing. You whimper and slide down to the eaves. The metal trough is tenuous as best as you feel your weight testing the bolts. Your heart pounds in your ears.

The bell rings again but you don’t let it faze you again. You’re nearly there, just a little further.

“What on earth–” Loki’s voice makes you flinch.

The eaves creak and tremble under you as you curl your fingers over the shingles. You glance over fearfully, surprised by your discovery and all too aware of your treacherous escape. Loki’s nostrils flare as he glares out the window at you.

“Get back here! Are you mad, you’re going to get–”

The gate bell once more pierces the air and a sudden crack sounds from behind you. You slip down the shingles with a yelp, grasping at the roof as your feet meet only air. Your catch yourself on the edge, just barely, and whine as you dangle over the grass.

“Gods!” Loki blusters as you hang perilously.

Your heartbeat blocks out the noises all around you. The birds’ songs fade and the rippling leaves quiet. It’s only you and the horrid drop below. Don’t look down, you repeat. You’ve seen the movies, that’s the worst mistake you can make.

“Pet, don’t panic,” Loki clambers down the front steps as he calls to you, “just hang on. I have you, darling.”

You squeak as your arms burn and your fingers throb. You’re not that strong. You don’t think you can hold yourself. You hear him running as a car door shuts.

“Hello?” Frigga’s voice carries over the lawn, “is everything alr–” She gasps, “oh, dear, what is going on? Loki, let me in.”

“Mother, one thing at a time,” Loki’s voice fades away as you hear him running.

“Oh my,” Frigga remarks, “dear, you just want to hold on. Try not to move too much, you’ll lose your grip.”

You close your eyes and focus on just that. Her advice is little help but you don’t even have the ability to tell her that. You’re terrified and weak. You feel your fingers about to give. You wrestle with your own mind, it would be easier to just let go and let what happens happen.

“Here, here,” Loki hollers as a metal rattle accompanies him.

Your eyes stay sealed as you fear even a glimpse of your ground. You whimper and whine, eyes once more wet and leaking. Something hits the roof not far from you and you hear a strange tempo, steady but harried. A hand closes around your wrist.

“He’s got you, honey,” Frigga shouts from the gate.

You don’t react. Loki grunts and his arm wraps around your back. You let your eyes open just a crack and look over at him. He urges you to him as he leans over the side of a ladder.

“Get your foot here,” he directs you to the rung above his own feet, “come, darling, come, I’ve got you.”

You follow his direction. Your adrenaline swells over and leaves you hollow. He gets you onto the ladder, just in front of him, and he takes a step down. You cling to the rungs as he continues until he’s stood on the grass.

“Go on, I’ve got a hold on the ladder,” he assures you.

You push your foot back and shakily dip it down. You put it on the next step before you dare to move the other. Your descent is slow and shaky. He helps you onto solid ground with his hands on your hips.

As you pull away and face him, you find his expression pinched. You push your lips out and mop up your tears, “I’m sorry, I–”

“Not now, I must deal with my mother first,” he hisses.

You wince and nod, pressing your tight fists to your cheeks. He gives you a long look and he rolls his shoulders. “Straighten yourself up, pet. Do you want her to see you in such a state?”

You shake your head and heave. He spins on his heel and marches away. You swipe away the last of your tears and swallow your sobs. You follow him, jittering as your legs move at a staggered pace. It’s almost as if they aren’t your own.

“Mother, you weren’t invited,” Loki accuses, “and we are not currently receiving guests.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What is going on here? Why was she hanging from the roof like a cat on a clothesline, Loki?”

“It is my concern, I don’t need you sticking your nose in–”

“Don’t speak to me as such, I am your mother,” her tone sharpens as you wobble towards them, “now you let me in, that poor thing must be frightened and you’re not even comforting her.”

“She is not yours to worry about,” he rebuffs.

“Nonsense, you left so fast, you didn’t let us the chance–”

“Go,” he snarls.

“Loki,” you babble as your legs fold, your sight splotchy and off kilter. As you crumble into the gravel he turns. He rushes towards you as you hold yourself up on your hands, slumping over the drive.

“Pet, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” he hooks his arm around you, “you should go inside.”

“Please… I don’t feel good,” you utter.

“Let me in, son,” Frigga demands urgently, “I can help her.”

“Just like you helped her before–”

“You know we had no idea,” she barks, more viciously than you could ever imagine her sounding.

“Loki, please,” you lean into him and tilt your head up, it lolls dangerously on your neck, “please, let her in.”

He considers you, his features drawn but no longer in anger. You see the fear he’s been holding onto. You reach to touch his shoulder and wilt into him.

“Please, I’ll stay,” you sniffle, “if you let her in. I won’t try to run again.”

He sucks in a breath and looks over his shoulder. He huffs and turns back to you. He scoops you off the ground and stands with a grunt.

“Mother, I trust you can wait until I get her somewhere safe?”

“Not long or I shall knock this gate down,” she sneers, “but perhaps I’ll let him take the wheel. Your father won’t hesitate.”

“Father…” Loki echoes.

“Oh, he’s here too, I told him to stay in the car thinking I might talk some sense into you,” she bites out, “imagine if I told him what I’ve walked up upon.”

“Let me get her inside,” Loki says tersely.

He carries you towards the house. You drone and sink into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking. You don’t know what came over you. You need sleep, your temples are like drums; boom, boom, boom.

“I’m tired,” your murmur.

“I know, pet, I know,” he brings you up the steps and through the front door. As he comes to the stairs, you reach out and grab the banister, latching on with all your strength. He stops.

“Please, don’t,” you bat your eyes and pout at him, a glisten in your vision, “don’t lock me away or I’ll jump next time.”

He waves and his throat tightens, “don’t talk like that.”

“It’s the truth,” you eke out. “I only… I only ever wanted to see the garden, you know?”

He lowers his eyes guiltily and frowns. He backs away from the stairs and instead, carries you into the den. He lays you on the sofa and puts a pillow behind your head. You relax, happy to at least be out of the room. Still, your prison remains.

“We will talk later but first, my parents,” he strokes your forehead before he stands straight.

“I could make tea,” you offer and try to sit up.

“You will not move,” he points a long finger at you, “not one inch. Do you want tea?”

You look at him. Is he really asking?

“Yes,” you squeak.

He nods, “very well, you will have tea. Stay,” he wags his finger again, “first, I will fetch my mother and father, then tea.”

You try to smile, “thank you.”

“Hm, curse the hour,” he sneers under his breath, “I could do with something a bit stronger.”

He leaves you with that remark, striding out rigidly as his fingers twiddle at his side. You feel the same dread as him about your guest. You’re in no state to receive them, and in less to be reminded of the last time you met.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel

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guizika · 4 months

Text

My Boyfriend

Itadori Yuuji x GN! Reader

Cw - GN! reader, you/yours pronouns, headcanon, established relationship, pet names (My love, Angel), a little bit of angst, fluff, Maybe it's a bit ooc.

Synopsis - You and Yuji are different, you're cold and rude, while Yuji is the complete opposite.

Word count - 721

Everyone was surprised when they found out that you and Yuji were in a relationship, you are someone who is rude and cold while Yuji is the opposite. Some people cast worried glances at Itadori, fearing that he was being treated badly in the relationship.

- But little do they know that in private you're simply very gentle with Itadori, the target of harmless jokes from him.

"Angel, touch me, you know I love when you touch my hair." You say in a muffled voice, your head buried in Yuji's neck, with your arms around him in a tight hug.

"Ow, look at you, so needy you're almost begging." He says in a playful tone, taking a hand to your hair to play with it and stroke your scalp, receiving a snort in return. You quickly squeeze Itadori's side, tickling him. "Hey! Stop that-" Before he can finish speaking he is cut off by his own laughter, giggling wildly as he tries to get you to stop tickling him.

"Enough! Enough, please!" He begs after a while, you stop and give him a smug smile. "Sorry, I think it was you who was begging." With that he opens his mouth, a visible expression of shock, then cracks a smile. "Wow, who knew you had such a dirty trick up your sleeve."

"Be quiet and cuddle me for once." You bury your head in his neck and hug him tightly again, leaving him with no escape. He smiles and starts to play with your hair, so he also strokes your scalp, enjoying the moment.

- Well, apart from that, you're like a personal watchdog, always defending Itadori from negative comments or mean looks, trying to protect him from the malice of others.

Itadori is sometimes criticized mainly for being Sukuna's receptacle. Some Jujutsu sorcerers look at him differently, as if he were someone bad.

"Do you know who he is?" A girl asks her friend, pointing at Yuji. "Yes I do, be careful, he's Sukuna's vessel, better stay away from him." The boy says this, without noticing you approaching.

Your eyes narrow when you hear the boy's comment, and you stop in the middle of the path and walk towards him. When you get close to him, you touch him on the shoulder to get his attention, the boy turns around and is greeted by you. The look you give him is enough to let him and the girl know that they've said the wrong thing.

"Uh, hi." The girl says, catching your eye, only to be met with a cold stare. You both remain silent, while you clear your throat and look directly into the boy's eyes. "Look here boy, if I hear you saying anything more about my boyfriend you're screwed." With that, the boy swallows, knowing you're not joking, and the girl stands still in silence.

"Of course, I apologize for him, now we need to go." She says, pulling the boy by the arm and walking away, you look at them until they turn and disappear down the corridors.

Yuji finally notices you and calls out to you, smiling happily. "You took your time, I was getting worried." When you hear his words, a small smile appears on your face and you go to his side to sit down. "Sorry for the delay, I had to sort out some problems."

- And the main thing, when Itadori is feeling tired and exhausted from having so many responsibilities, you are there to help him. Always holding him and telling him how much you love him.

At this moment, Yuji is lying on top of you, his head buried in your neck, crying as he vents to you. "I'm so tired, it's so frustrating." He says through tears and sobs.

One of your hands caresses his back and the other plays with his hair. "Shhh, I know, my love, but you're doing your best." You kiss his hair and then let out a sigh. "You always do your best, I know that, I'm always very happy to have such a strong, beautiful and amazing boyfriend like you."

Hearing your words, Yuji cries even harder, hugging you tighter. "I love you so much, I don't know what I'd do without you." He lifts his head from your neck and begins to kiss your cheek.

Please don't translate my work and don't repost on other social networks, if there are any grammatical errors I ask you to excuse me!

#ftm reader #male reader insert #male reader #anime x male reader #jjk x male reader #itadori x reader #gn reader #yuji x reader #jjk x gn!reader #gn!reader #male!reader

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milk-ly · 2 months

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Fuuta and Mikoto as Character Foils

This amazing post talks about Fuuta's people pleasing tendencies and they mentioned how Mikoto is simillar, but does it in a different way. And I have NOT been able to stop thinking about it so I want to get my thoughts out about how Fuuta and Mikoto are character foils to each other.

Fuuta and Mikoto are pretty much complete opposites. They parallel in that they both desperately crave societal acceptance, but they differ in how they go about it. Mikoto tries to read the room and changes every aspect of himself in order to seem more friendly and amicable to fit in. He does things based on what he SHOULD do because it’s the societally accepted way to do things and he’ll be liked for it.

Fuuta doesn’t because it’s just how he is, his naturally fiery and argumentative temperament makes it hard for people to like him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to fit in but he isn’t willing to change himself the same way Mikoto is. Mikoto is friendly and approachable while Fuuta is the complete opposite.

But here’s the thing, he IS also like Mikoto in that regard because he is seen in MILGRAM actively changing himself in order to believe that he is that idealized self in Bring It On. He tries to be a representative for everyone and confronts Es for hurting Yuno during his t1 VD, despite having to hype himself up before charging up at them.

But still, no matter how hard he tries he can’t be that idealized self. He can’t fit in, because it’s not who he is. He wants to be accepted as himself! He wants friends he can share the same interests and opinions with to feel validated.

Portal Timeline conversation (2023/07/05):

Fuuta: "Oh, well. I guess I can understand a bit now. When you're feeling down, it's nice to have someone to rely on, someone who accepts you."

It's why Mikoto thinks Fuuta’s immature because Fuuta's unable to fit into society and "be an adult" like Mikoto can. Mikoto thinks that once you grow up, you need to buckle down and start conforming or else you'll never get anywhere in life. To him, it's disgraceful to be angry because it's frowned upon, and Fuuta's pretty much in a constant state of rage, which is why Fuuta has such a hard time finding acceptance. Every time they talk, they’re criticizing each other. Their first ever conversation starts with Mikoto lecturing Fuuta about how he can’t and won’t fit in and it (rightfully) ticks him off, especially since Mikoto can. It’s why they’re at each other's throats like every time they interact (which is pretty little). Mikoto even straight up has a line in the earbud collab about how Fuuta will never get any girls.

Fuuta is constantly considered by others as “immature” and “childish” such as Kazui saying that it's okay for Fuuta to be cocky because he's young or how Fuuta is constantly linked to games (typically associated with children). Or the fact that the lyrics from Bring It On: ""Kono yubi tomare" [is] a traditional saying from a traditional kid’s game."

On the flip side, Mikoto is constantly reminding people that he’s a working adult. Not to mention, Mikoto tends to hang around the older prisoners more (the smoker trio) while Fuuta interacts with the younger prisoners the most. (Amane, Haruka, and sometimes Muu)

Mikoto wants to be a cog in the machine and believes that if he works hard enough, he'll be able to make it in the workforce. Fuuta actively criticizes the workforce and how it's useless to work too hard, so he "goes with the flow."

There are so many smaller details too that emphasize their foil. Mikoto smokes, Fuuta hates smoking. Mikoto's voice is high and whiney while Fuuta's is deep and aggressive. Fuuta has an older sister while Mikoto has a younger sister. Both their parents are divorced but Fuuta is missing his mother while Mikoto is missing his father. However, one similarity is that they both SEEM to have good opinions about their moms while having questionable ones with their dads.

Something else I think about a lot is how Fuuta parallels with John. Especially concerning these lines from John when you realize John is pretty much the opposite of Mikoto too:

John might be the person Mikoto wishes he was. Someone who stubbornly stands their ground, someone who tries stand up for themselves and “gives people their just desserts.” Sounds rather familiar to a certain red-head, I must say.

In addition, they share a lot more similarities too, like their connection to the bright colour red, contrasted by Mikoto's light blue. They both have short tempers and jump at Es as a defence mechanism, in contrast to Mikoto having a fawn response and laughing everything off. They both use the first-person pronoun "ore" while Mikoto uses "boku." Both Fuuta and John have a deeper and more aggressive tone in comparison to Mikoto. Fuuta's symbolism as a brave knight protecting the weak and punishing evil parallels John protecting the "weak" (Mikoto) and acting as his saviour from threats. Mikoto couldn't stand up for himself so John did it for him, Fuuta "stood up" for the people hurt by the actions of the people he cancelled.

To add on to that, Mikoto’s name in kanji means “noble” or “revered.” Words that remind you of royalty, or a prince. (Boy princess fr fr) John being his saviour makes him his knight in shining armour. Matching with Fuuta’s knight symbolism!

Mikoto envies these traits in Fuuta yet hates them and purposefully suppresses them within himself because it's not socially acceptable to act like him. Fuuta likely similarity envies people who can fit in, like Mikoto. Perhaps the reason why the two are so irked by the other is that they each embody traits the other admires yet can't have.

But in the end, they both can’t really fit into “normal” society. Mikoto, who claims he can, is suffering to the point of breaking. Fuuta, who tried and finally found an ounce of acceptance and ally ship in his online buddies, ended up getting carried away and causing the death of someone.

I'm really surprised I haven’t really seen this mentioned or discussed very much. Sorry if it’s really obvious, I just wanted to point some stuff out. Anyway man, I love these two a lot and I would love to see more stuff diving into these two in a canon context too.

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #mikoto kayano #john milgram #milkly ramble

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astraltrickster · 8 months

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Since the wave of mass site migrations there is one REALLY worrisome trend I've been noticing: the number of radfem posts I've been seeing ending up on my dash, reblogged unknowingly by people who think they're just base-level feminist statements, has all but gone back to c.2014 levels. Everything seems good on a surface level, but I spot one dogwhistle, or something strikes me as being a little too absolutist, and I check into that...and sure enough, the road leads back to terf city.

So here's a quick PSA:

Please be careful with your Feminism 101 sources.

See, terfs and their close relatives KNOW we don't like them here, so they don't tend to lead with their well-known hatred of trans women. On top of that, there is a problem with a subset of radfems on this site who purport to be trans-inclusive - i.e., they openly support trans women...but DESPISE trans men (often more than they hate cis men, because of the whole "joining the enemy"/"gender traitor" myth pushed by terfs) or any nonbinary person who aligns partially with manhood or masculinity, especially if they're AMAB (they often think they can "save" - i.e., conversion-therapy - the AFAB ones).

Therefore, on a single-post level, it is very, VERY hard to tell the difference between a basic feminist statement that, yeah, patriarchy exists and that means there are lots of awful double-standards around gender where women broadly get the shorter end of the stick and these standards AFFECT every individual in a society and that's something we should work to change, and a statement that these things are absolute and inevitable, either because Biology or because those double-standards are too deeply ingrained to EVER overcome without giving up and starting over from scratch (whichever is convenient), and the only solution is hardline female wombyn-born-wombyn separatism or at LEAST excluding trans people from public life for, at best, making it too hard to tell who's ~safe~. In fact, sometimes on that single-post basis, they could potentially even be identical - though less frequently than many people thought in the heyday of "OP was a terf so I stole this post but anyway all men are walking rape threats and need to accept that any reasonable person will always hate and fear them on sight".

So what can you, random newbie, do to avoid unwittingly passing one of these messages on without turning into some kind of horrible "feminism is cancer" chud?

Well, one of the easiest ways is the Shinigami Eyes browser extension, but I personally don't like to rely on it because 1) you can't use it on every platform (sorry mobile app likers), 2) in my experience it's somewhat common for "trans-inclusive" radfems to be flagged as safe because someone saw their positivity for trans women but not their hatred for trans men, and 3) I just don't like to promote the use of browser extensions as a substitute for learning what radfem rhetoric is and why it is, in fact, anything but feminist; it is very beneficial to terfs if the ONLY thing you know of their rhetoric is "they hate trans women".

The hard but better way is to actually familiarize yourself with what to look out for. Here is an inexhaustive list:

Category 0: Tags to add to your blacklist

Your blacklist filters out posts with the blacklisted tags in the reblog you're seeing, OR in the root post. Therefore, if a radfem post that looks like it's just base-level feminism does breach containment somehow and end up on your dash through someone else, it will still get caught if it's tagged with any of these:

Terfsafe

Radblr

Radfem

Terfs/radfems do interact/do touch/please interact/please touch, etc

Category 1: Terf-ese and dogwhistles

Some of these, especially those near the top of the list, are immediate telltale signs. Others are less certain, but they should at least raise some eyebrows.

"Gender critical" - literally a synonym for terf just used to make the ideology sound more legitimate; they often claim that terf is a slur

"TIM/TIF" - "Trans-identified male/female", a way to delegitimize trans identities

"Febfem" - female-exclusive bisexual woman; a bisexual woman who rejects her attraction to men; essentially a modern term for "political lesbian" (a group which claimed that lesbianism is not a sexual orientation that some people just Have, but a political choice to reject men)

"Butch flight" - the claim that trans men are butch lesbians transitioning to escape lesbophobia and gain male privilege

"Adult human female" - this very simplified dictionary definition of "woman" is something of a rallying cry

"Let girls be tomboys/butch" - some people say this in response to old repressive gender roles in things like dress codes, or even people holding trans women to a higher standard of femininity than cis women, but if that is not explicitly the context it's very likely that this means "stop the evil plastic surgery racket from force-transing every little girl who even looks at a truck, which they're TOTALLY doing"

The inverse, while less common (terfs tend to be very open about not wanting men to be feminine in any way because of "deception" and "false security"), is also one to look out for - sometimes it's a statement against binarism and gender essentialism, sometimes it's basically an assertion of the Blanchard "feminine homosexual man vs. autogynephilic man" model of what a trans woman is

"Compulsory heterosexuality/comphet" - an aspect of heteronormativity whereby it's common, especially for younger people, to try to force themselves to experience heterosexual attraction when they don't. Useful as it may seem, the term was coined by radfems. Most people who are not terfs or other radfems who want to discuss it will discuss it under the umbrellas of heteronormativity and amatonormativity

Hogwarts houses - this is a sneaky one; far from everyone who read those books or even enjoyed them is a terf, but since JKR's full-tilt descent into fascism via the gateway of transphobia, terfs HAVE been using this as a way to seek out their own and mark themselves as safe; let this also serve as a reminder that if you are NOT a terf PLEASE REMOVE THIS FROM YOUR BIO; it WILL both draw them to you AND cause you to be immediately distrusted by anyone else, saying "I DO NOT CONDONE THE VIEWS OF JKR" will not help because terfs can and do lie about that too in communities where they have to stay crypto, at best you're granting them plausible deniability

Referring to men and women as "males" and "females"

Usernames referencing "female" reproductive anatomy - may be a good sign if they're attached to trans-positive modifiers like "boy" or "they", but a username like "divine-vagina" or "ovariesofpower" (note these are theoretical usernames, not ones I've encountered in the wild; if someone does have one of those usernames and isn't a radfem I'm deeply sorry) is probably a terf

Hatred of makeup and plastic surgery - look, no one likes the beauty industry, no one is going to dispute that beauty standards are a nightmare, but this is frequently a smokescreen for hating gender confirmation or anything that helps with the "deception" inherent to transness; be ESPECIALLY wary of anyone talking about "TikTok plastic surgeons trying to sell their services to impressionable teenage girls", this usually translates to "gender confirmation surgeons telling young transmascs that there are options for them", and remember that you either believe in bodily autonomy or you don't, there is no third option

Category 2: Ideological concepts to look out for

This is some of the beginnings of crossing the line from feminism to radfem bullshit - if the rest of the post seems cool but starts heading in these directions, don't assume it's hyperbole; get it as far away from you as possible.

Patriarchy, men-oppressing-women, is THE root system of injustice from which all others spawn. Some will acknowledge that other factors may intersect, but will still claim that they are lesser. Bringing up the long history of white women getting men of color, especially Black men, killed via weaponized fragility and false claims of sexual violence, is just a series of flukes and pointing it out to refute this notion that men vs. women outranks all other inequalities is just whataboutism.

Because patriarchy is so far-reaching, it affects every individual, and because it trumps all other axes of oppression, this means that in every interaction between any man and any woman, the man will be the one with more power.

Men, due to socialization, biology, or both, are categorically incapable of recognizing women as full people. This is not only a broad pattern, but an inevitable fact, true of every individual man, no matter how hard anyone tries to change it.

There is a singular Universal Female Experience. According to terfs, this is an external force; trans women don't have this socialization experience, therefore they can never truly know what it's like to be a woman. According to tirfs, it is internal; trans men process their experiences internally as men from birth to death and therefore have no claim to truly understand any experience of misogyny directed at them.

The experience of being a woman is, first and foremost, suffering. It is therefore to be expected that a certain subset of people would transition to try to escape it - but it's the wrong answer, and this practice of either self-destruction or betrayal must be stopped at all costs. Anyone who wants in on the miserable experience that is womanhood, on the other hand, is at best insensitively looking at a burning building and going "wow, that looks so warm!", blissfully but cruelly unaware of the misery of the situation, and at worst is lying to satisfy a fetish.

Women are categorically incapable of abusing men, because patriarchy outranks all, down to the individual level. Some may also say that this is true because of biological differences in physical strength. (Very feminist, isn't it, to say "the strongest woman is still weaker than the weakest man and nothing can ever change that"?)

There is, fundamentally, no difference between a person with some subconscious misogyny problems and an incel mass shooter; both will abuse women, and therefore both must be treated as threats.

Because the power differential between men and women is so great, a woman cannot TRULY meaningfully consent to sex with a man; all sex between a man and a woman is rape.

Because rape is such a common trauma among women, the very existence of men - or penises, for that matter, even fully clothed ones - in a space where a woman doesn't expect them is traumatic and itself tantamount to rape.

Lesbians don't just have their own unique flavor of oppression experience like any other queer subgroup; they are in fact THE most uniquely oppressed and vulnerable of all, because being a lesbian is first and foremost not about attraction to women, but rejection of men (recall the ties to political lesbianism). Some radfems will embrace contradictory labels or slightly varied personal definitions for other queer subgroups - but if you're anything but a Kinsey 6 who would never even consider making an exception, and 100% a binary woman, you CAN'T identify as a lesbian. You cannot identify as a lesbian if you wouldn't dump your partner or try to conversion-therapy "her" if "she" came out as transmasc. To a tirf, you cannot identify as a lesbian if you're on the butch-transmasc cusp, if they're willing to admit such a cusp exists in the first place. To terfs, you cannot identify as a lesbian if you would ever date a trans woman, let alone if you ever have.

Again, this is far from being an exhaustive list, but it covers most of the most common things that set off my own alarm bells. Additions are more than welcome.

Remember, the danger of letting radfem posts slide because they seem okay on the surface is twofold: one, you're directing more people to their blogs and exposing them to more people they may then target, and two, when those concepts that cross the line bleed out into your gender theory, the result is bad for you and everyone around you.

#internet culture #internet safety #serious tag #internet bullshittery warning #tumblr culture

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bobbile-blog · 4 months

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Not sure if anyone’s said this yet but now that we have Laterano events plural I’m fascinated by their (imo) very deliberate choice of protagonists, and there are almost a couple of layers of narrative going on there. I struggle a little figuring out how to get this into words but specifically I think they’re chosen to be people who can carry a narrative without contradicting the orthodox morals of the church. There’s a LOT of vaguely anti-authoritarian rambling below the cut so please kindly bear with me and my English major brain.

I can’t really start there though. One of the reasons this is so brain hurty is how deeply it’s woven into the storyline, so to start, I have to verbalize how Laterano and Arknights writing more generally is different from other, similar settings. Because like, I hear the words “morally negative church in a grimdark setting” and my brain immediately shuts off. Come on, that’s so far beyond low-hanging fruit, if you’ve seen any grimdark setting ever you know exactly what that looks like. And sure, it was fine the first two or three times you saw it, depending on your tolerance for that kinda thing, but it gets boring quick and even when it was new it was kinda uninteresting story-wise. “Religion is always fake because it inspires hope which means everyone who takes meaning from it is either a corrupt grifter or naive and misled” isn’t just edgy nonsense, it’s also basically useless as an actual critique. It tells you absolutely nothing except how to tune out a particular kind of story, and a story that tries to get you to hear less is doing its job wrong.

So, Arknights does something different. Instead of denying the premise of the church entirely, it actually takes it at its word. Laterano is, in almost every definition of the word, a paradise. It is basically unmatched in terms of actual quality of life, with its only competitors being the Durin cities and maybe Aegir, and is worlds apart from now much the rest of Terra sucks. More than that, though, the paradise is specifically tailored to the worldview of a religion with a strong central authority - when I say it takes it at its word, I mean the authoritarian bits too. Laterano is a city that lives in perfect order and peace because everyone follows the law perfectly and they all understand each other and never fight. Empathy is really important for this, as it allows for a believable amount of superhuman societal order. Laterano has very little crime, political drama, or quarrels in general. It’s the promises of a strict higher authority actually taken at face value: everyone follows the rules and that means they have effectively unfettered freedom, because they don’t want to break the rules and therefore they can do anything they want.

Laterano is specifically written to be a believable paradise in a setting that has none, so that when the story then turns around and criticizes that setting, it has significantly more weight. Even when the promises of paradise are taken at face value, there are still issues that cannot be addressed because the system is inherently flawed even in the imaginary scenario where it works. Even worse, the problems that poke holes in the imaginary perfect scenario are the same problems that they face in the real world, like “how do you deal with the interpretation of scriptures” and “hey there’s this racism thing I keep hearing about should we be worried about that or what”. Because of the way this imaginary perfect system works, we then look back on our real world in a new light and understand it a little better. It’s good critique.

Okay so how did we get here and what does this have to do with the protagonists? Well, this starts with Fiametta in Guide Ahead, because she’s a really weird protagonist. This is a cold take at this point but despite being the character on the front of the box, she has very little to actually do with the central conflict of the event. Most of the conflict is handled by Ezell first and Andoain second, and Fiametta mostly putters around putting holes in people until the finale where Andoain receives the answer he’s been looking for, he turns to explain it to the world, and he runs into the only person in the whole of Laterano who does not care about his motivations or his revelation. Her role, in other words, is to replace the climax of Andoain’s story with her own, and in doing so she makes it much harder to actually get a resolution and a meaning out of the story (this should not be taken as a criticism of her character, let me cook). Guide Ahead’s ending is hazy, with only small piecemeal resolutions to its conflicts, and for the longest time that was just the way the event was written and it stood on its own.

But now, Hortus de Escapismo is out and the monkey brain see patterns. Specifically, with the choice of protagonists. Because Executor is definitely different from Fiametta as a protagonist, but there’s one particularly important connection between the two, and that’s that as I mentioned in the beginning, they allow for stories don’t contradict orthodox morality. Fiametta we went over, as she’s uninterested in any of Andoain’s morality and just wants him dead. Executor, though, is purely focused on his mission and views the world through that lens. He only wants to achieve his objective, and while helping the needy is in line with the stated objectives of the church and he does do so when able, it’s secondary to his assigned task. He does change as he gets further into the story, and we’re not gonna ignore that, but we’ll be back to it later. What I mean is more that he is designed as a person who is able to lead a story that doesn’t contradict with the morals of Laterano. He sees the injustice and suffering around him, but that’s not his job, so he doesn’t need to solve it to have a complete story with a happy ending.

This is where it really gets complicated, so I apologize if I don’t explain this very well. I see this as us dealing with multiple layers of fiction: the events of the story, the perspective of the church, and our perspective as readers. Back to the first point - authoritarian institutions almost always use stories to sell people on their brand of order. Simple stories, simple enough that even calling them myths seems like overselling it a little, your “Saint George slays a dragon” kinda thing. This is the point of the second layer, the perspective of the church. I don’t really have an in-world justification for this layer - maybe you could make the argument that it has to do with Law’s perspective on things, but I don’t totally buy that - I think it’s more in a weird narrative transition space for people who don’t read very carefully. Regardless, Fiametta and Executor’s shared indifference to the questionable circumstances surrounding them is designed to let them tell a story to prop up the existing order. Their protagonist status and their missions are specifically constructed to allow them to ignore the suffering around them, and as such ignore the larger questions that might poke holes in the larger order. They’re both playing out the story of Saint George, where they go and find a bad guy and kill them and that’s all there is to it. The story is designed and told specifically for that “that’s all there is to it”.

But, as we said earlier, this is a good critique, and as such it intentionally undercuts this story with the third layer: what we actually see as readers. We are shown the suffering and the injustice, and then get to see our protagonists ignoring that to pursue their goals. This is what gives Guide Ahead’s ending its unique texture, which sets it apart from every other event with a vaguely unresolved ending. We have seen the actual issues with Laterano, and also watched our protagonist explicitly ignore them in favor of her own story. It’s unsatisfying in a way that only really makes sense to me if we as the readers have an understanding of intentional authorship. Whether it be Yvangelista XI or Law or The Actual Real Life Pope, there are issues here that we want to see a resolution to but people are choosing not to address them. Again, it’s good critique. Not only does it push the reader to unpack and understand the actual real-world technique, but it also helps blunt it. You have just seen a plot and protagonist ring uncharacteristically hollow. You then look around to see why that is, and you realize there are many things that should have been resolved that weren’t. The next time you see a story resolve with that same hollow-ness, you know where to look. Surprise! Harry Potter was propaganda the whole time. It’s okay, it was never good, you were just twelve.

I guess the last thing is where we go from here, because Executor’s story breaks this mold somewhat. In Hortus de Escapismo, he has to deal with a mission that isn’t actually bounded by his normal rules, and because of that he actually does have leeway to help the people around him. He starts as someone who is totally mission-focused, but by the end of the event he’s done a total 180 and is blocking Oren’s attack, which makes the mission harder but helps the non-mission-critical civilians of the monastery. He breaks from the rigid thinking of “kill the bad guy and that’s all there is do it”, and gives his attention to the people he isn’t supposed to see. I think this is an indication of the direction we’re going to be headed in the future with Laterano events. The events aren’t going to get better - they’re going to keep being just as morally murky and complicated as in the past - but the characters are going to get better at handling it, and when they do, they’re going to actually start to change things for the better.

Goddamn that was a lot of writing for 1 AM. I still have a. Lot of thoughts on this event with stuff like empathy and Lemuen and Federico being an autistic icon(my beloved) but I’m going to leave things there, I think, because if I write for any longer my phone is going to crash when I try to post this. Anyway if you actually made it to the end thanks for listening to me rambling and I hope that made sense. Cheers.

#arknights #arknights thoughts #hortus de escapismo #laterano #fiametta #executor arknights #I deadass had to ask folks to proofread this one #to make sure I didn’t sound like I didn’t sound off my rocker #also don’t mind my random Harry Potter slander that’s an entirely different rant

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multifandomfanatic02 · 2 months

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"You didn't know, pt.1"

Pairing: Alastor x fem!OC?? (pulled the name out of a hat honestly)

Warning: mentions of r*pe, detailed murder,

Summary: it was never mentioned as to why Alastor turned to murder. Maybe it could have been because he lost someone important to him? Who knows really?

a/n: I tried my best to stick to Alastor's character and respect his sexuality. If you think this needs any improvement or if you have some kind criticism, please let know! And if this liked enough I'll make a part two! (itsbeentwelveyearssinceihavewrittenanythingpleasebenice)

Spring of 1915

Alastor had been a victim of his mother's matchmaking since he was seventeen. Seven dates have been attempted in 5 years total.

No, he was more focused on his occupation as a writer. What Alastor was truly in love with, the smooth jazz that blessed his ears, to the dancing, the books. He was clearly an art enthusiast. And there was one artist's work he admired more than anything. Lillian Fletcher. She was a high position in a very popular magazine and newspaper. Decided what was trendy and what wasn't. While her job is more in the line of sales, Lillian's colleagues agree to let her put her own articles in them. They get hella cash flow.

Crazy as it is, no one has seen what she looked like. When conferences with celebrities happen, it's like she's there in spirit and the articles just show up in the papers one day. I guess you could say it's what Alastor admired about Lillian, she was obviously a humble woman. Someone who cared about her work as much as he did his. Even more so loved the same things he did.

A special night was approaching, Alastor was going to join the press as a journalist for a conference. Even get to do an interview with the famous guest. It was such a grand occasion, he wore his best suit. A black suit rimmed with red buttons and red seams around the collar and of course a red dress shirt underneath. Took the breath away from most of the women that glanced at him during the little shindig.

"Look at my handsome little man, I'm so proud of you, mon cœur." Alastor's mother beams at him with pride, rubbing her fingers against his cheek. He grabs her hand and guides her to the bar.

"Thanks mama, I'm really glad you get to be here with me tonight. Can't imagine anyone else to spend this night with, I mean that." Her eyes start to swell as tears spill out of them. He chuckles wiping them away with the back of his hand. The lights finally begin to dim and the guest comes out on stage. "It's time mama, I need to join the crowd." Alastor unpockets his pen and pad and walks to the chaos of the press unfolding before him.

2 hours gone by and he gets maybe 3 questions out of him. This guest isn't particularly nice. He's obviously rushing the journalist and being very um.. kind of an asshole with his replies. Then again it was to be expected from this one. It's why he's Alastor first real job after all.

"Can you please answer respectfully for once? Stop being an ass to the people who will write your story one day." Everything goes quiet and all heads turn to the back of the crowd. A woman.

"Who are you to speak to me that way, slut." He says giving her a disdainful expression.

"I apologize sir, I just want to know as to why you treat everyone like garbage."

"Miss.. does your husband know you are here." He scoffs, taken aback by the woman's comment.

"I am not married, sir." Her eyes are stoic, there's no signs of kidding on her face.

"That explains a lot. No one wants a woman with a mouth like that.. anyhow, ma'am I think you are done here. Guards! See to it that this.. woman.. leaves the building." He snaps his fingers calling the guards over.

Everyone in the crowd obviously disgusted by attitude. Who gave her the right to talk to HIM that way. Only one pair of eyes saw her differently than anyone else. Alastor. She was glorious. He has never seen someone so beautiful in AND out like this before. The woman wore a royal blue drop-waist dress made of silk and velvet with beads and tiers. Thick mid length hair pinned up in a bob, in attempt to keep it all in place. Pearls adorned her neck beautifully.

He walked out the building following loosely behind, his hand rubbing the back of his neck briefly.

"Are you alright, miss?" He speaks softly to her, trying to not speak the woman.

"Ah yes, thank you, I apologize for my behavior back there. You didn't have to come after me." She hugs her arms and paces back and forth, irritation clearly visible on her face.

"I believe it was very much needed. He certainly needed to be put in his place. Who better than you." Alastor's lips grew into a soft grin. She stopped pacing finally taking a really good look at him. Handsome, is all she thought. "May I ask for your name?" He bent down grabbing her hand kissing the back of it.

A blush flooded her face from her cheeks to the tips of the ears. "L-Lillian Fletcher... and you are?" He looked up in shock to her response, clearing his throat.

"My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure indeed!" His smile turned into a starstruck expression. "So you are the Lillian Fletcher that works for the magazine?!" She nodded nervously as Alastor struggled to keep his cool. "I love your articles and sales pitches! It's what inspired me to shoot my shot with an actual job in journalism. I've been writing for as long as I can remember."

"I'm so glad to hear that, my job is my everything. I'm very passionate about it." Her hand hovers over her mouth to hide her giggle.

"Say, Ms. Fletcher, would you like to have dinner with me?" He holds out his arm for her to take as she gladly accepts, wrapping her hand around it with a smile.

"Call me Lili."

Summer of 1917

"How do I look, mama?" Lillian looked at her future mother in law, holding back her tears. Her knuckle grazed under her eyes to keep from ruining the makeup. The dress she wore was an ivory colored low v-neck dress full of lace and the sleeves were nothing but loose tassels. The most gorgeous wedding dress you'd have ever seen. Her hair was neatly curled and pinned up, feathered boa wrapped around her back and arms, elbow length silk gloves, a string of pearls around the neck, and finally a flower crown. Never has someone looked so elegant.

Alastors hands ran through his hair pacing around in the dressing room. No way was this perfect day about to happen for him. He never thought that one day he'd be married. Alastor has always kept to himself, never found anyone attractive enough. He believed the romance life wasn't for him. While it's partly true, he surely was in love deeply. However both agreed that they never wanted children. Never thought they needed to have intimacy to have love. It would be the perfect life with their work, passions and each other of course.

"Ooo honey, you are looking handsome. Can't wait for you to see Lillian. She's glowing." She says letting herself into his room. She walks towards and pulls him down by the collar to fix his bow tie. "My baby boy, finally getting married."

"Thank you mama, for everything. I'll be sure to pass on your jambalaya recipe to her." He snickers, getting a whack in the arm from her.

"Don't start with me now, boy, you're never to old for a whoopin. You hear me?"

-----

The wedding has started in the chapel and everyone takes their seats. Alastor already tearing up from the band playing music. His fingers fidgeting with eachother in front of him. His bride in all her glory walking down the aisle as if she was a star in the sky.

They took each other's hands holding their breaths as the priest gets through his speech. The wedding was very simple and short event. Due to both groom and bride's status, it was best to keep it a secret and only allow close family. Meaning Alastor's mom and their pet black cat.. Lucifer.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." That moment lasted for what felt like forever.

Winter of 1928.

Eleven years have passed, both are 34 years of age and their relationship has nothing but flourished since they were married.

Lillian has retired from her life of writing for the public to devote herself to her husband. It's been peaceful and life has never felt better. Alastor on the other hand was promoted to radio host as soon as they were being sold to consumers. It's one thing to write it all out on paper but another to broadcast his interviews and music live to listeners with similar interests. It was... a thrill to him. He and his wife have became quite the team on radio. She often helps him figure out pitches to his audience to boost it.

"Al dear, don't you think it's time for bed?" Lillian's hands wrapped around his neck and ran down his chest, leaning down enough to place a kiss on his head. "You've been working on next week's interview all day. Time to rest, darling."

He sighs and squeezes her hand before nodding. "Alright mon amour." He stands up dragging his feet to their shared bed, tucking each other in. Lillian stroked his hair in hopes to bring him some comfort. He pulls her into his chest. "I will never love anyone other than you. You are mine for eternity."

-------

"Why haven't you told me about this before?!"

"I just didn't want you to worry about it.. you've got a big show coming up soon."

"Hate to break it to you, darling, but someone stalking you is a lot more important to me than a damn show!" Lillian silenced herself, looking away from Alastor's gaze. "I'm staying home."

"No! You can't! That show is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"YOU are my one opportunity! If something happened to you.. I would go Insane." He gripped her shoulders tightly.

"Fine.. Let's make a deal, Al dear. You stay at home all week, but on the day of your show, we take extra precautions to the house and you go. After that you can stay home as much as you want." Lillian says in a serious tone and holds out her hand.

"Deal."

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

The day had finally come and both were feeling nervous. In truth, neither of them wanted Alastor to leave. But with the extra precautions in the house, there was no point in staying home. She was right, this chance will never come again.

The stalker in question had done this sort of thing to several women in the past, many of which had simply gone missing. The ones that were found had been abused and stabbed in the spine causing paralysis, and yes, dead. What a horrific way to die, they both thought. So far there have been 6 victims.

"Are you ready, dear?" Lillian asks helping his coat on. Alastor's expression looking out of place. He was scared and couldn't look her in the eyes, fearing it could be the last time he sees them.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" He grabs her hand and holds it to his chest. His heart beat a mile a minute.

"You know I'm not allowed there anymore. Or have you forgotten?" She chuckles in attempt to comfort her husband. Obviously not working. Alastor was heartbroken, the only thing he could think of now was to hurry up and get his show done and over with so he can come home. Almost like it wasn't important anymore.

"I've got you a gift." He pulled out a velvet box from his pocket. Lillian took the box and opened it, revealing a locket. 'Mon amour'. She opened it up to see a picture of them on their wedding day. Happy as can be. "No matter what happens know that you are the most important thing in my life." She smiled up at him and gave him a big hug before thanking him. It's beautiful.

"Time to go, my darling." She gives him one last passionate kiss before pushing his butt out the door and locking it. It was cruel to do that however, if it dwelled on it any longer he'd surely break his promise. In reality, she was panicking about being left alone. For good reason...

Alastor's body finally relaxed after 4 hours of his show, it was the most enjoyable one so far. Interviewing the mayor, he was a lot nicer than expected and obviously cared for his people. It wasn't until one of the new journalists came barging in that everything changed.

"Uh oh we've got some breaking news! A new victim of the killer. Our seventh victim is the magazine writer and trend-setter, Lillian Lili?!..." He held his breath as a lump formed in his throat. Immediately getting up, turning on his heels, and hurrying out of the building. His hands were shaking in hopes that she was at the very least still alive. Maybe this was a different situation.

Police and the press had already arrived hours before. Pushing through the crowd, a policeman placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Are you Mrs. Lillian's husband?" The policeman asked. Alastor's glared down at the man keeping him away from his wife. "I'm afraid I have to tell you that she was killed. I cannot let you go on further for your own good."

"H-How did this happen.. the house was covered in as many locks as we could find! Wood bolted to the windows and-"

"It was not a break in, sir. He had been living in your cellar for what may have been... a week?." Alastor's color drained from his face. In the cellar? He had locked his wife in there with that criminal?

He pushed past the policeman and ducked under the police tape. No one stopped him in time before he saw the scene unfold in front of him. Just like the other women. She had been assaulted and puddles of blood ran from her back. Alastor drops to his knees and grips his hair, crying hysterically. Something snapped within him. His cries suddenly turned into insane laughter. It appalled everyone. He goes over and picks her up and cradles her lifeless body in his own. The blood staining his clothes.

"You can't do that! This is a crime scene! You can't mess with evidence. It belongs to the police department!" The police officer yelled at him. Alastor said nothing continuing to hold her. He knew what to do..

Winter of 1933

̷̍̇̄̐̂̏͊̒̈́ "Breaking News! We have an update on Paul Benjamin. You know the one serial killer who has had an open case for 20 years. Well.. HE'S DEAD HAHAHAHA!" Alastor beat on his desk laughing before clearing his throat. "I apologize for my outburst, it just about time it happened don't y'all agree?" He said calming down and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I wonder who's next on this antihero's list."

It had been 5 years since Lillian's death. While he is working through the pain, his methods to cope is questionable. Four years ago Alastor had decided he wanted to deal with his wife's murderer himself. A year of following his movements and actions eventually paid off. A new addiction emerged to the surface. How easy it was to pierce human skin, to the screams of misery and pain. It was such an amazing feeling. Why stop there? There are people who deserve the same. Nine monsters.. nine people killed by Alastor's hand. Each deeply researched and carefully chosen.

The walk back home from the studio was peaceful. Nothing could make this night better. Many horrors have been removed from the streets of New Orleans thanks to him. Thankfully he was never suspected in any of them. Alastor was very particularly careful how he handled them. Every single seeming to be an accident or su**ide. To the public, it was almost like a miracle. But to the criminals themselves, they knew. Who was next on this mastermind's list? Paranoia set in to them all.

"Ahh what a day my dear, wish you could be here to see what I've accomplished." His laugh was maniacal. He removed his jacket and put it on the hanger on the door. "You are safe now, my darling. We're getting closer to having a free city of monsters."

"I knew it was you.." a voice whispered to Alastor from behind him, holding a knife to his neck. "The only monster left in this town is you, Al." Alastor stayed quiet and slowly reached for the knife in his vest pocket. "I d-don't want to kill you. I understand why you did it but your wife would not like this. Just submit yourself to the police and I will let you go."

He belted the insane laughter, making the man steadily walk backwards in fear. "Understand? You could never understand." Alastor swiped his finger across the cut on his neck left by the knife, and licking it. "I just enjoy doing it." He swiftly shoved the knife into the man's chest.

"Hmmm.. where to put this one. Ah I got it." Unlike all the others, this one was a surprise bonus to the collection. The only possible place to deal with this one was the forest a few acres behind his home. No one went in due to the stories of crytids and it being haunted. It was perfect.

He grabs the shovel sitting against the treeafter placing the corpse in the hole, filling it up with dirt. Upon hearing voices creeping upon him, he looked over his shoulder briefly just for everything to go dark.

"Uh.. I don't think that was a deer, Bill."

"What?"

Present day in Hell

"Congratulations, your highness. Never doubted you for a second. The hotel is starting to gain attraction. " Alastor bowed to Charlie with his hand on his chest.

"You know damn well you're only here for the entertainment. You even said it was a ridiculous idea." Vaggie tapped her feet and crossing her arms.

"Ah yes well... I apologize. Regardless I'm glad everything worked out this way." He gripped his cane, his static-y voice glitching out a bit.

"Speaking of attraction, don't you think it'd be a good idea to put out more commercials and articles about the hotel. Maybe the sinners will take it seriously this time." Charlie paced back and forth before looking to Alastor.

"Good idea! And I know just the person." The one he referred was a commonly feared overlord. One that could potentially out matched Alastor himself. Maere. The dream demon. His shtick was that he can sneak into nightmares and manipulate humans and sinners to sign away their souls for something as simple as a piece of clothing. A soul for an easily attainable item. Despicable.

All the souls he owns have been known to be abused within his possession. On top of it, he rents them out to customers for whatever they need. Because of his collection of talented souls, he has earned his spot in several companies from technology and fashion to restaurants and sinful services.

Now Alastor does not like dealing with demons like him. He was a murderer but only to those who deserve it or push his buttons. Being acquaintances with Maere was useful at times. In the past he has secretly helped free some of them from the contracts with him. This was not one of those times.

The square of pentagram city, where you will find all the fashion stores and new technology. Anything you may need really, including Maere's headquarters.

"Alastor! Our beloved radio demon. I figured your ass would show up around here at what point, old friend." He rubbed his cigarette between his fingers putting it in the ash tray before standing up to greet him.

"Ah ha ha.. don't call me that. I'm just here to do business." He swiped his dhoulder pad before putting both hands atop his cane. "I'm sure you've heard about princess Charlotte's hotel kicking up attention. I'm here to see if you have any souls that would be perfect in advertising the hotel. Someone who is persuasive and talented with writing."

"Hmmm I may have someone like that. Only if you promise to STOP RELEASING THEM FROM MY CONTRACTS!" He held out his hand in hopes of agreeing on a deal.

"I guess I could.. fine, you've got a deal." He grapped Maere's hand, shaking it. Maere grips his hand and leans closer to Alastor.

"I mean it. You're dead if you do." Alastor's expression stayed composed.

. . . . .

"Let me introduce you to my star saleswoman. She does a lot of the Vees advertisements in tv, newspaper, and magazine. Quite the talented one if I do say so myself. She's good for other things as well if you kbow what I mean." He was quite a cruel 'master'. Every single soul he owned was only allowed to do anything unless they are rented or if he decides to use them. And the way he made sure were restraints on both the face and arms. A metal mask was bolted to behind there heads covering their whole face with matching metal restraints that kept their forearms tight against their backs.

This woman was no different. On the other hand, her clothing was rather elegant. A beautiful evening gown that looked like it'd have been popular in the 1920s. It was a loose-fitting floor length dress that flared at the knees; low v-neck, flowy mesh sleeves. The base of it was red silk while the outside was full of fringe and black lace details. Her hair was black with curls that reached her shoulders, with long ears sticking out the top of her head. Little fluffy tail sticking out the back of her dress, and to top it off were her very long paws. I guess her feet were to big to find shoes for her. A rabbit demon?

"Does this one at the very least have a name?" Alastor questioned Maere. He thought about it before snapping his fingers.

"Ah yes! She is soul 19,281!" He pushed her into Alastor's chest, making her stumble and drop something off around her neck. Maere released her from the restraints letting her scramble for the necklace on the ground. He disappeared letting Alastor do his thing.

"I despise having to do dealings with that demon. Are you alright little lady." Alastor leaned down to grab the necklace for her. A locket? He opened it seeing the inside, having it suddenly be ripped from his hand. It was him and his wife. The two finally gazed up at each other in awe.

"...Lili?"

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin x reader #alastor imagine #hazbin #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #alastor fluff #alastor angst

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alice-angel12x · 1 year

Text

Death is always around the corner

Leona + Death!Reader

Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Let's set the Scene: Masterlist

Something was off about this Mirror ceremony, Crowley could feel it. But decided to shack it off and continue with the ceremony.

As the night continued, all the new students were neatly sorted into dorms. There was just one coffin left, and just as he was about to insert the key to unlock the coffin. The coffin began to thrash and shack, as puffs of blue fire spewed out from the creaks in the coffin. The headmaster quickly stepped away from the coffin when the lid suddenly blasts off its hinges in a blaze of fire.

From the coffin, a grey cat creature with blue fire ears skitted across the ground. The crowd of students stared in confusion till something caught their attention. An eerie whistle could be heard from the smoking coffin. Out from the smoke steeped a mysterious figure. A figure dressed in the school's ceremonial robes stepped out into the chamber. They stood unnaturally still as the hood of their robe completely obscured their face as they continued to eerily whistle.

"U-Um, excuse me young...Um... You could have waited a few seconds longer till I opened the gate. Anyways please present yourself to the dark mirror," Crowley stuttered as he hurried the stranger.

The mirror awakened to look at the figure, and only stared in... fear?

"Ugh, I can smell... a disgusting amount of blot," The figure spat.

🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁

Now our story starts a bit earlier than expected. In a large greenhouse is where our story begins for this chapter. While Ace and deuce went to look for baskets, Grim was forced to partner with...Y/n. They smiled ever so slightly, kneeling down with hands outstretched. Inviting Grim to climb onto their shoulder, but Grim arched his back as his fur stood on end. The fire cat quickly walked ahead, as Y/n simply followed behind.

As the two walked in silence, Y/n didn't see the tail laid across their path.

"AAGH!" Growled a voice as a swift motion, whacked Grimm off his feet.

Grim quickly scampered behind Y/n for protection as a lion beastmen stood to his feet in annoyance. Leona growled as he faced the the two.

“You got some nerves stepping on my tail and just walking away,” Leona scoffed.

“A-are you the groundskeeper?” Grimm asked nervously.

“Nothing worse than napping and minding my own business only for some low life to step on my tail,” Leona growled.

Yet Y/n smiled in amusement, much to Leona’s annoyances. Leona knew this was the strange new student, this is his first time seeing them up close. Yet when he leaned in to smell this strange student, there was no scent.

“I’m not sorry, you shouldn’t be resting near where people walk. And someone of your standing should have better things to do,” Y/n simply.

“Grrr! I am not in the best of moods, and I think it’s only fair rip out your younger and show you your places,” Leona snarled as he prepared to fight.

“Oh, a lazy glutton of a lion thinks he scares me? Haha, this is cute,” Y/n laughed, unbothered by his threats.

Leona tried to throw punches at the figure, but they dodged with little effort. All the while criticizing his skill. Leona’s anger grew more and more. He pulled out his magic pen and began to fire off spells at Y/n, who pulled out their scythes and effortlessly deflected the magic.

Know it was Y/n's turn. With terrifying speed, y/n charged Leona. With a swift but strong kick to the chest, shoving Leona into a metal pole. The lion prince groaned in pain as he tried to raise his pen to compose himself. Only for Y/n to swipe the pen out of his hands, and with the other brought down the scythe. leaving a minor cut over his scar.

"Leona!" a voice called.

Leona turned to see Ruggie making his way over with his lunch. The prince swiftly turned back to look at Y/n, but they and Grim were gone.

Leona knew from then on, that this Y/n person was not someone to underestimate. As long as they stay out of his business, then he had nothing to worry about.

But that didn't last long when Crowley ordered Y/n to investigate the strange and spiking accidents around the school. Promising to let them participate in the magic shift tournament.

Y/n already knew who was behind this but decided to let Grim earn his reward. And decided to play the investigation game, but that doesn't mean they won't pay them a visit.

As Leona and Ruggie discussed their plan, Leona noticed a figure in the shadow, it was Jack.

"What are you doing here late in the night? Are you so homesick that you need someone to sing you a lullaby?" Leona smirked.

"I want to know the reason why you’re doing this," Jack growled.

" I see now. You want to hear a bedtime story, huh. Fine, I’ll tell you. For two years in a row now, we’ve always lost at the first match against Diasomnia and Malleus. Ever since we went against them, our dorm, which was known for making opponents tremble, looks like weak kittens now," Leona explained.

"Doing something as low as cheating is wrong!" Jack growled.

"Jack… I’m doing this because I’m concerned about the students’ futures, you know? f the whole world sees us defeat Malleus, all those offers will come back to Savanaclaw together with our dignity. Are you planning on ruining your seniors’ futures?" Leona said with a slight glare.

"Th-that’s…! I’m sure you can take Malleus on if you play with your full potential, Perfect!" Jack tried to reason.

But Leona had enough and set everyone out of his room, wanting peace and quiet and to go to bed. Bed just as he was about to relax an eerie whistle. His hair stood on end as his arms trembled.

"For the future of your dormmates huh? This is the dumbest lie I have ever heard from you," Y/n laughed as they fiddled with some of Leona's jewelry. As they sat in the window.

"What are you doing here?!" Leona hissed, baring his teeth.

"Just wanted to hear the justifications behind your actions. I'm surprised a lazy cat like you has the brain capacity to think of something like this. Especially since it seems you can't do the bare minimum to do something as simple as graduating," Y/n mocked with their haunted red eyes.

"Shut up!" Leona growled as he grabbed a vase.

Y/n chuckled as they playfully dogged a vase Leona threw at them. Leona backed away slowly as Y/n stepped into the room. They sat down at the table and pulled a book from their hood. A book with his name on it.

"I'll cut to the chase. I know you gave from the start, I can't wait to see you fail miserably," Y/n chuckled.

"You don't know that," Leona spat.

"So why not just... Rest forever?" Y/n as they opened Leona's book to the final page. The wanted poster. "Just sign right here."

Y/n said as they tapped the dead print.

"Is this some sick Joke!?" Leona growled as he raised his pen.

Y/n simply stared at Leona, studying him. Eventually, they closed the book and vanished into the shadows.

"See you soon," Y/n said as they whistled into the night.

Ruggie came rushing through the door and was shocked to see Leona frozen and in fear.

But they continued with the plan, but with the help of jack. Malleus and the rest of Diasomnia were safe. But this broke what little motivation Leona had, giving up then and there.

This did not go well with the dormmates that followed him this far. But this only deeply annoyed Leona, as his magic started to go wild.

He held Ruggie aloft as he began to turn everything to sand, and dry out the poor hyena boy. Y/n growled dangerously as they swiped at Leona, dropping the poor boy.

Before Ruggie could hit the ground, Y/n caught him and handed the boy to Jack to keep him safe.

_____________________________________________________________

As Leona sat in his world of darkness, an eerie whistle snapped him out of his stupor.

"What's wrong Lives flashing before your eyes?" Y/n asked as they held their scythes.

"So that's who you really are, Death," Leona glared. "So you've come for me, after seeing all I have been through."

"Yes, and I am not impressed. Even if you were to be the firstborn, your attitude and lazy habits would still make people doubt you. Even so You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, and have great privileges compared to those around you," Y/n snarled.

Leona still looking defeated didn't even turn to Look at Y/n.

"So, No matter what I do I will never be more th-" But Leona was cut off with a powerful punch to the left side of his face.

"You Never Tried! So you have no right to make that excuse. You just sat your @$$ down and pitted yourself. I have been here since the dawn of time and your experience is nothing unique," Y/n scoffed as they pummeled Leona.

"You Could have been great, but you wasted every opportunity your statues served to you on a silver platter. I have seen many second princes who were fronted with the same issues as you, they didn't take it sitting down. They went out I did something about it. Many even had more impact than their kings," Y/n continued as they held up the wanted poster. " Sign it."

Leona covered with bruises stared at the poster, as his life flashed again. As Y/n watched they could see something shift, not entirely, but it was a start. As Leona struggled to stand and spit a bit of blood out of his mouth.

"You know what. No, I'm going to live to spite you," Leona coughed. " And prove every single one of you wrong."

Y/n stared into Leona's eyes and smirked as they lowered their blade from Leona's neck. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

"Well prove it," Y/n smirked warmly, as they exited through a door of light.

Leona woke up, much to everyone's relief. Leona noticed as Everyone gathered around, Y/n stood off by themselves. Jack is the only one to approach with no fear.

Leona composed himself and challenged Y/n to Magishift. Saying in a battle he could never win, but in a game of skill, maybe.

Y/n smiled warmly and accepted the challenge, it's been a long time since they were invited to play in a game. If only there wasn't so much blot gathering.

#Death!reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst yuu #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #twst headcanons

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