Tumgik
the--rebel--fae · 2 days
Text
Oh, I hope Malleus's Tsum is like this! That would be sooo cute and fun!
What we can infer from this tsum tsum card
He looks like he’s burning all the tsums except for his
He’s holding his own tsum out to say that his tsum is the superior one
Look at HIS DEVILLISH SMILE HAHAHAHAA HES FUCKING PROUD THAT THERES FINALLY A TSUM TAKING AFTER HIM
He’s definitely gonna walk around the whole campus and showing everyone what his tsum can do
HE IS PROBABLY GONNA CHALLENGE HIS TSUM IN A MAGIC DUEL (uk, just to see how strong this tsum is)
i know for sure his tsum whacks ppl and summons lightning to strike ppl whenever it’s mad. In short, NRC it’s gonna be stormy the whole time (especially when they are in a bad mood), either that or you see a mini soft toy flying around the campus
Tumblr media
Anyways I have been waiting for this card for TOO long…… HEHHEHEHEHEHEH😏😏😏😏
520 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 4 days
Text
Tumblr media
Update 💜
Hello my lovlies! I know I've promised a new fic and my Requests are still not done...I am so sorry for that my friends 😔 I've just been really busy--I'm a part time, trying to be full time journalist and plus my etsy story commissions have made me swamped. Plus there's the little new occurrence of my neck and migraine issues but we are working through that! I haven't forgotten about y'all nor my stories, I have several of em either in my Google docs or my notebook waiting to be done. I'll try my absolute best to get a lot out this coming week, I just thought yall could use an update. Again sorry my loves, I will get on it though! Virtual pinky swear!
Love,
~ Rebel Fae
11 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 13 days
Text
Absolutely perfect. Istg you're writing is always on point! I've been so excited to read the last part and that ending was brilliant!
Tumblr media
⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania
˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Prologue smut💦
Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.
「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」
🎶 minors DNI 🎵
Tumblr media
Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.
“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”
“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.
Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you. 
By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task. 
Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.
Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of  true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love. 
An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.
Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you. 
Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.
You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.
Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…
Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh,  and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”
He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you. 
You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you. 
His room, fucking hell. 
“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“
You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.
“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”
“No things you enjoy?”
“No romantic interests.”
His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”
You did.
“I do.”
You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.
He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.
“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.
“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”
As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.
He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”
Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.
On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.
His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds. 
The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.
A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”
He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?
“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened. 
Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library. 
He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.
With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.
“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”
It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied. 
Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.
His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.
Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button. 
Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”
Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.
No, obviously not!
Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”
“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat. 
Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”
“Never read it.”
You had read it.
Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”
“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.
When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”
Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?
“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”
You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.” 
“You will.” 
The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.
“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”
He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.
No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.
You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.
Tumblr media
Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.
Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.
The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.
Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping. 
Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.
“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’
“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.
He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”
Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!” 
He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”
What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”
Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.
Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created. 
“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”
“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love. 
“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.
“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?
It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.
You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.
While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.” 
You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.
When the song ended, you offered one of your own. 
Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.
Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.
Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”
Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”
Lonely. Pathetic.
“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?” 
“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.
“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.
He nodded, suppressing another laugh.  “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”
Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”
Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.
“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.
You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.
This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.
His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach. 
You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”
He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.
“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.
“Nngh no.”
“Theeen, no.”
Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been,  you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.” 
The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”
When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed. 
You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still. 
A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.
The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.
You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen. 
“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort. 
You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did. 
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”
Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you. 
“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”
You nodded quickly.
“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”
It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy.  It existed purely to please. 
The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?
Wasn’t that the point?
What was the point?
 A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.
Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.
You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming. 
Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.
What were you thinking about this for again?
You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”
“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”
If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.” 
His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”
If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.
“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.
His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”
A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.
Tumblr media
You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other. 
The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat. 
He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.
You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?
You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.
A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride. 
Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?
No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.
But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.
Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.
When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in. 
“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.
He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.
“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in  holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”
Stop crying.
An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed. 
One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.
You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”
What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.
You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”
There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.
 “Good girl.”
No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion. 
Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans. 
With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased. 
He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.
After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.
“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.
Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.
Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.
You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.
The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.
After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”
You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.
Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”
He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”
“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.
“Home?”
“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.
“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”
“I’m not supposed to be here!”
A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”
Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”
He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”
“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.
“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”
Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”
You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”
Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”
You thought for a beat, “It can be.”
He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.
You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.
Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.
You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.
Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”
“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.
His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.
“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket,  “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”
You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”
“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”
All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.” 
“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”
A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.
He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”
A warning.
A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”
You heard the door lock from across the room. 
Tumblr media
You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.
It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.
“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”
From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”
He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”
Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”
ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,
🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan
@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re
@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp
@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic
769 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 14 days
Text
What No One Tells You About Writing #5
Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
Shorter list this time, but longer points. I expect this one to be more divisive, but it is what it is, and this is what ‘no one tells you’ about writing, after all. This one’s all about feedback and how to take it, and give it.
1. Not everyone will like your book, no matter how good it is
I’ve said this before, granted, but sometimes you can have very arbitrary reasons for not liking an otherwise great story. For example: I refuse to watch Hamilton. Why? Because everyone I knew and their dog was trying to cram it down my throat when it came out and I still don’t really like musicals, and didn’t appreciate the bombardment of insisting I’ll like it simply because everyone else does. I’m sure it’s great! I’m just not watching it until I want to watch it.
It can be other reasons, too. I won’t read fanfic that’s written in first person, doesn’t matter how good it is. Someone might not watch a TV show because the primary cast is white or not-white. Someone might not watch a movie because an actor they despise is in it, even if the role is fantastic. Someone might not watch or read a story that’s too heavy on the romance, or not enough, or too explicit. I went looking for beta readers and came across one who wouldn’t touch a book where the romance came secondary in a sci-fi or fantasy novel. Kept on scrolling.
Someone can just think your side character is unfunny and doesn’t hear the same music as everyone else. Someone can just not like your writing style with either too much or not enough fluff, or too much personality in the main narrator. Or they have triggers that prevent them from enjoying it the way you intend.
How someone expresses that refusal is not your job to manage. You cannot force someone to like your work and pushing too hard will just make it worse. Some people just won’t like it, end of story.
2. Criticism takes a very long time to take well
Some people are just naturally better at taking constructive criticism, some have a thick skin, some just have a natural confidence that beats back whatever jabs the average reader or professional editor can give. If you’re like me, you might’ve physically struggled at first to actually read the feedback and insisted that your beta readers color-coded the positive from the negative.
It can be a very steep climb up the mountain until you reach a point where you know you’re good enough, and fully appreciate that it is actually “constructive” and anything that isn’t, isn’t worth your time.
The biggest hurdle I had to climb was this: A criticism of my work is not a criticism of me as a person.
Yes, my characters are built with pieces of my personality and worldview and dreams and ideals, but the people giving you feedback should be people who either already know you as a person and are just trying to help, or are people you pay to be unbiased and only focus on what’s on the page.
Some decisions, like a concerning moral of your story, is inadvertently a criticism of your own beliefs—like when I left feedback that anxiety can’t just be loved away and believing so is a flawed philosophy. I did that with intent to help, not because I thought the writer incompetent or that they wrote it in bad faith.
I’m sure it wasn’t a fun experience reading what I had to say, either. It’s not fun when I get told a character I love and lost sleep over getting right isn’t getting the same reception with my betas. But they’re all doing it (or at least they all should be doing it) from a place of just wanting to help, not to insult your writing ability. Even if your writing objectively sucks, you’re still doing a lot more just by putting words on paper than so many people who can’t bring themselves to even try.
As with all mediums subjects to critique, one need not be an author to still give valuable feedback. I’m not a screenwriter, but from an audience’s standpoint, I can tell you what I think works. Non-authors giving you pointers on the writing process? You can probably ignore that. Non-authors giving you pointers on how your character lands? Then, yeah, they might have an opinion worth considering.
3. Parsing out the “constructive” from the criticism isn’t easy
This goes for people giving it as well. Saying things like “this book sucks” is an obviously useless one. Saying “I didn’t like this story because it was confusing and uncompelling” is better. “I think this story was confusing and uncompelling because of X, and I have some suggestions here that I think can make it better.”
Now we’re talking.
Everyone’s writing style is different. Some writers like a lot of fluff and poetic prose to immerse you in the details and the setting, well beyond what you need to understand the scene or the plot. Their goal is to make this world come alive and help you picture the scene exactly the way they see it in their minds.
There’s writers who are very light on the sensory fluff and poetry, trying to give you the impression of what the scene should look and feel like and letting you fill in the missing pieces with your own vision.
Or there’s stories that take a long time to get anywhere, spending many pages on the small otherwise insignificant slice-of-life details as opposed to laser-precision on the plot, and those who trim off all the fat for a fast-paced rollercoaster.
None of these are inherently bad or wrong, but audiences do have their preferences.
The keyword in “constructive criticism” is “construct”. As in, your advice is useless if you can’t explain why you think an element needs work. “It’s just bad” isn’t helpful to anyone.
When trying to decide if feedback has merit, try to look at whatever the critic gives you and explain what they said to yourself in your own words. If you think changing the piece in question will enhance your story or better convey what you’re trying to say, it’s probably solid advice.
Sometimes you just have to throw the whole character out, or the whole scene, whole plot line and side quest. Figuring out what you can salvage just takes time, and practice.
4. Just when you think you’re done, there’s more
There’s a quote out there that may or may not belong to Da Vinci that goes “art is never finished, only abandoned.” Even when you think your book is as good as it can be, you can still sleep on it and second-guess yourself and wonder if something about it could have been done better or differently.
There is such a thing as too much editing.
But it also takes a long time to get there. Only 10-15% of writing is actually penning the story. The rest is editing, agonizing over editing, re-editing, and staring at the same few lines of dialogue that just aren't working to the point that you dream about your characters.
It can get demoralizing fast when you think you’ve fixed a scene, get the stamp of approval from one reader, only for the next one to come back with valid feedback neither of you considered before. So you fix it again. And then there’s another problem you didn’t consider. And then you’re juggling all these scene bits and moments you thought were perfect, only for it to keep collapsing.
It will get there. You will have a manuscript you’re proud of, even if it’s not the one you thought you were going to write. My newest book isn’t what I set out to write, but if I stuck to that original idea, I never would have let it become the work that it is.
5. “[Writing advice] is more like guidelines than actual rules.”
Personally, I think there’s very few universal, blanket pieces of writing advice that fit every book, no exceptions, no conditions, no questions asked. Aside from: Don’t sacrifice a clear story for what you think is cool, but horribly confusing.
For example, I’m American, but I like watching foreign films from time to time. The pacing and story structure of European films can break so many American rules it’s astonishing. Pacing? What pacing? It’s ~fancy~. It wants to hang on a shot of a random wall for fifteen seconds with no music and no point because it’s ~artsy~. Or there is no actual plot, or arc, it’s just following these characters around for 90 minutes while they do a thing. The entire movie is basically filler. Or the ending is deeply unsatisfying because the hoity-toity filmmaker believes in suffering for art or… something.
That doesn’t fly with mainstream American audiences. We live, breathe, and die on the Hero’s Journey and expect a three-act-structure with few novel exceptions.
That does not mean your totally unique or subversive plot structure is wrong. So much writing advice I’ve found is solid advice, sure, but it doesn’t often help me with the story I’m writing. I don’t write romance like the typical romance you’d expect (especially when it comes to monster allegories). There’s some character archetypes I just can’t write and refuse to include–like the sad, abusive, angsty, 8-pack abs love interest, or the comedic relief.
Beyond making sure your audience can actually understand what you’re trying to say, both because you want your message to be received, and you don’t want your readers to quit reading, there is an audience for everything, and exceptions to nearly every rule, even when it comes to writing foundations like grammar and syntax.
You don’t even have to put dialogue in quotes. (Be advised, though, that the more ~unique~ your story is, the more likely you are to only find success in a niche audience).
Lots of writing advice is useful. Lots of it is contradictory. Lots of it is outdated because audience expectations are changing constantly. There is a balance between what you *should* do as said by other writers, and what you think is right for your story, regardless of what anyone else says.
Just don’t make it confusing.
I just dropped my cover art and summary for my debut novel. Go check it out and let me know what you think!
121 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 14 days
Text
What No One Tells You About Writing Fantasy
Every author has their preferred genres. I love fantasy and sci-fi, but began with historical fiction. I hated all the research that historical fiction demands and thought, if I build my own world, no research required.
Boy, was I wrong.
So to anyone dipping their toe into fantasy/sci-fi, here’s seven things I wish I knew about the genres before I committed to writing for them.
1. You still have to research. Everything.
If you want any of your fantasy battle sequences, or your space ships, or your droids and robots, or your fictional government and fictional politics to read at all believable.
In sci-fi, you research astronomy, robotics, politics, political science, history, engineering, anthropology. In fantasy, you have to research historical battle tactics, geography, real-world mythology, folklore, and fairytales, and much of it overlaps with science fiction.
I say you *have to* assuming you want your work to be original and unique and stand out from the crowd. Fanfic writers put in the research for a 30k word smut fic, you can and will have to research for your original work.
2. Naming everything gets exhausting
I hate coming up with new names, especially when I write worlds and places divorced from Earthly customs and can’t rely on Earthly naming conventions. You have to name all your characters, all your towns, villages, cities, realms, kingdoms, planets, galaxies, star systems.
You have to name your rebel faction, your imperial government, significant battles. Your spaceships, your fantasy companies and organizations, your magic system, made-up MacGuffins, androids, computer programs. The list goes on and on and on.
And you have to do it all without it sounding and reading ridiculous and unpronounceable, or racist. Your fantasy realms have to have believable naming patterns. It. Gets. Exhausting.
3. It will never read like you’re watching a movie
Do you know how fast movies can cut between scenes? Movies can balance five plotlines at once all converging with rapid edits, without losing their audience. Sometimes single lines of dialogue, or single wordless shots are all a scene gets before it cuts. If you try to replicate that by head-hopping around, you will make a mess.
It’s perfectly fine to write like you’re watching a movie, but you can’t rely on visual tricks to get your point across when all you have is text on a page – like slow mo, lens flares, epically lit cinematic shots, or the aforementioned rapid edits.
It doesn’t have to, nor should it, look like a movie. Books existed long before film, so don’t let yourself get caught up in how ~cinematic~ it may or may not look.
4. Your space opera will be compared to Star Wars and Star Trek
And your fairy epic will be compared to Tinkerbell, your vampires to Twilight, your zombies to The Walking Dead, Shaun of the Dead, World War Z. Your wizards and witches and any whisper of a fantasy school for fantasy children will be compared to Harry Potter. Your high fantasy adventure will be compared to Lord of the Rings.
You can’t avoid it, but you can avoid doing it to yourself. When people ask about your book, let them say “oh, you mean like Star Wars” to which you then can say, kind of, except XYZ happens in my book. These IPs will never fade from the public consciousness, not while you exist to read this post, at least, but Harry Potter isn’t the only urban fantasy out there. Lord of the Rings isn’t the only high fantasy. Star Wars isn’t the only space opera.
Yours will be on the shelves right next to them, soon enough, and who knows? You might dethrone them.
5. Your world-building is an iceberg, and your book is the tip
I don’t pay for any of those programs that help you organize your book and mythos. I write exclusively on Apple Notes, MS Word, and Google Suite (and all are free to me). I have folders on Apple Notes with more words inside them than the books they’re written for.
If you try to cram an entire college textbook’s worth of content into your novel, you will have left zero room for actual story. The same goes for all the research you did, all the hours slaving away for just a few details and strings of dialogue.
There’s a balance, no matter how dense your story is. If you really want to include all those extra details, slap some appendices at the end. Commission some maps.
6. The gatekeeping for fantasy and sci-fi is still very real
Pen names and pseudonyms exist for a reason. A female author writing fantasy that isn’t just a backdrop for romance? You have a harder battle ahead of you than your male counterparts, at least in the US. And even then, your female protagonist will be scrutinized and torn apart.
She’ll either be too girly or not girly enough, too sexy, or not sexy enough. She’ll be called a Mary Sue, a radical feminist mouthpiece, some woke propaganda. Every action she takes will be criticized as unrealistic and if she has fans who are girls, they will be mocked, too.
If you have queer characters, characters of color, they won’t be good enough, they won’t please everyone, and someone will still call you a bigot. A lot of someones will still call you a bigot.
Do your due diligence and hire your army of sensitivity readers and listen to them, but you cannot please everyone, so might as well write to please yourself. You’re the one who will have to read it a thousand times until it’s published.
7. Your “original” idea has been done before, and that’s okay
Stories have been told since before language evolved. The sum of the parts of your novel may be original, but even then, it’s colored by the media you’ve consumed. And that’s okay!
How many Cinderella stories are there? How many high fantasies? How many books about werewolves and witches and vampires? Gods and goddesses and celestial beings? Fairies and dragons and trolls? Aliens, robots, alien robots? Romeo and Juliette? Superheroes and mutants?
Zombies may be the avenue through which you tell your story, but it’s not *just* about zombies, is it? It’s about the characters who battle them, the endurance of the human spirit, or the end of an era, the death of a nation. So don’t get discouraged, everyone before you and everyone after will have written someone on the backs of what came before and it still feels new.
1K notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 19 days
Text
*low whistle* dayum that was a close poll! I didn't think the results would be this neck and neck! But, To Love a Fallen Angel has won! So the first chapter will be released by the end of this week! But don't worry, I haven't forgotten yalls requests, it just takes some time to write em up. But! I am working on it I promise 😊 Can't wait to show yall the fic! But the other one will come after soon enough, so worry not those of you who voted for Welcome to the Band! And thanks again for the 50+ followers! Yall are amazing!
Holy smokes I made it past 50 followers? Omg y'all are amazing! So to celebrate, I'm giving yall a poll for some upcoming fics for yall! From either launching my Twisted wonderland fan fiction Welcome to the band, a band au fanfic with a yuu x Leona, yuu x Malleus fic. Or launch my Hazbin Hotel fan fic To Love a Fallen Angel, a angel who was forced to fall but finds herself in a love square with three people she never thought she'd care for. It's an x reader. So which one would yall like to see first?
17 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 20 days
Text
Tumblr media
🦀 Kudos Crab 🦀
If you are scrolling and see Kudos Crab, your fics will be blessed!
You will get good comments and kudos!
You will beat your writers block!
GO AND WRITE!
46K notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 20 days
Text
I feel this so much xD it's so relatable.
Tumblr media
31K notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 23 days
Text
Tumblr media
1 note · View note
the--rebel--fae · 25 days
Text
Princess and the Frog meets AdamsApple! This is brilliant!!!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
It’s here 🙌
2K notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 26 days
Text
This is so beautiful OML.
The Ugly Duckling: Part 2
❌Do not repost my pieces!❌
♻️Shares, Comments, and Likes are much appreciated!♻️
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
846 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 26 days
Text
Holy smokes I made it past 50 followers? Omg y'all are amazing! So to celebrate, I'm giving yall a poll for some upcoming fics for yall! From either launching my Twisted wonderland fan fiction Welcome to the band, a band au fanfic with a yuu x Leona, yuu x Malleus fic. Or launch my Hazbin Hotel fan fic To Love a Fallen Angel, a angel who was forced to fall but finds herself in a love square with three people she never thought she'd care for. It's an x reader. So which one would yall like to see first?
17 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 27 days
Note
Hey Fae! Do you know about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? If not, basically they are biblical concept for rooted evil in humanity and first four of seven seals for the “end of the evil world” or whatever (conquest, war, famine, and death).
Anyways, to my request! I wanted to ask to see if you’d write a paring of a FourHorseman!reader with Vox from Hazbin Hotel (and any other characters from that show if you’d like to lol)
Thank you and Gl with ur other requests!
A/N This is probably gonna happen each time I post a request since I feel horrible for making all of y'all wait. So! Big sorrys for taking so long with this but tysm for your patience! Now! On to the main a/n: Oh my friend, you have triggered an idea that is genius! Ooh this reminds me of that one episode from Charmed.--if you know which one, you totally rock. I had so much fun with this! I hope you like it too! 😊
Pairing: Vox x Strife! Four Horsemen! Reader
TW: Just swears, but that's about it.
Word Count: 814
His Little Chaos Bringer
Tumblr media
The brick wall felt like a cool and relaxing solace as you leaned against it. Your pencil scratching furiously away in your notebook. Today had a been quite the productive day.
Though, you could have done without Blitzø's hissy fit for nearly missing the portal entry back to hell. He was complaining how you nearly cost him big time as he took you back into your main domain of the pride ring.
“You're lucky you're so damn powerful and make our jobs easier, you twerp.” He grumbled at you as he practically shoved you out of the I.M.P. van.
An amused chuckle made it passed your lips as you closed your notebook with a satisfying snap. You couldn't help that you were on a roll today with causing so many humans strife. You were the epitome of it after all being one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Your other three siblings were Lucifer knows where and you didn't really give a damn as long as they were keeping their stats up and making sure the plan stayed on track.
Your notebook was already bursting with your successes, an impressive list of names and ways you affect them filled its yellow time worn pages. And that was only today.
Looking around at stretch of land that was the V's part of Pentagram City you let out a tired sigh. You loved what you did, you really do. But after a long day of causing misery, all you wanted to do was collapse in a comfy chair and just relax as you listened to your boyfriend boast about his day.
The brief silence that filled the air in the little alleyway you were taking a break in was quickly broken by the sound of your ringtone: The Flight of the Valkyries–little on the nose but you were always a fan of the classics.
You glanced at the caller ID and grinned. “Well, ask and ye shall receive I guess.” Clicking answer, you couldn't keep the smile out of your voice. “It's like you just knew I needed to talk to you. Should I add telepathy to the list of your talents?”
A deep chuckle. “Well hello to you too Doll. Rough day I take it?”
You leaned your head back against the wall and felt the satisfying thump of cool brick against the back of your head. “Not hard, just very long. Apparently causing misery for a living can drain someone a lot.”
“Why don't you come back home to the tower and I'll see what I can do to help get some pep back in your step hmm?”
A smirk played at your lips. You definitely didn't miss the innuendo in that sentence. “Sounds perfect actually. I'll be there in five.”
A pleased hum could be heard on the other line. “Looking forward to it Doll. See you soon.”
“See you soon, Vox.” The call ended seconds after.
Pushing forward you felt your muscles stretch out in relief. A spark of excitement and contentment ran through you. Sometimes it paid to be the romantic partner of one of the strongest overlords and a tech genius like Vox. No matter how busy the two of you were, you were always able to make time for each other at the end of the day.
***
As the elevator door to Vox's penthouse suit swished open, a tired smile was brought to your lips at the sight before you. In front of the blue satin couch, on the table laid a beautiful–and frankly absolutely mouth watering dinner with two champagne flutes filled with wine.
“I take it you like the surprise?”
You let out a pleased hum and walk forward. "What do you think?" Wrapping your arms around Vox's neck, you lightly bumped your forehead against the top of his screen. An amused giggle passed your lips as you watch Vox's screen take on a light rosy hue around where his cheeks are supposed to be.
"Well, I'm glad you like it, my little chaos bringer." Vox gave you a soft peck on the lips. His kisses always left you with a tingling feeling--probably thanks to the fact that he is a literal tv, but you couldn't help but want more. Maybe at a later time, the night was still young after all.
"You know exactly how to make a gal feel special don't ya?"
Vox pulled away from your grasp and gave a wink. "Doll, you're special no matter what."
You couldn't help the snort that passed your lips. "Wow, cheesy much?"
Vox just waved you off. "What? I was just trying to be romantic!"
A fond smile pulls at your lips. You were probably one of the most powerful beings in Hell seeing who you were, but if this was the life you got to come back to everyday? It's all worth it.
A/N that was so much fun to write. I truly enjoyed this request! Feel free to request again! I hope you enjoyed it!
And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several-page long one-shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!
49 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 28 days
Text
Ooh I'd love to hear this
New ask game:
Reblog if you want your followers to tell you what your trademark ™️ is. Like, what’s that thing that really identifies you.
33K notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 29 days
Note
Daww cute kitty
Tumblr media
Welcome to Tumblr! *leaves gifts in your askbox* :3
💣💣💣
WAIT WHT BOMBS?!
16 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 29 days
Note
Hehe 😊 💜
Welcome to Tumblr! *leaves gifts in your askbox* :3
💣💣💣
WAIT WHT BOMBS?!
16 notes · View notes
the--rebel--fae · 30 days
Note
Tumblr media
Hehe never!
Welcome to Tumblr! *leaves gifts in your askbox* :3
💣💣💣
WAIT WHT BOMBS?!
16 notes · View notes