~Welcome to my writing blog where you'll see me fumbling most of the time!~
I don't take requests at the moment since this is a self-indulgent side blog where I post whatever comes to mind but you're still welcome to send stuff!
Main account is @ghostdoodlen where I post my art and other things
No writings yet but here are some more art (I am after all an artist first unfortunately), one more fleshed out and colored while some more neutral colored ones too
I honestly just picked Bruce's tone since it was a shame if I didn't try and fully color it. I liked my WIP too much that I got carried away.
Here's some headcanons just to make up for the lack of story building:
Just to reconfirm, Reader got their hero name, Pinkie, from their hair. While building up their own persona, they had cycled a bit through different names and nothing quite felt right.
Since Reader is more acquainted early on (during the time of simply being an apprentice more than an official JD member) with Dark and under the wing of Zatanna, you certainly met Constantine who's got irritated by your ever changing names. He started referring you to Pinkie. Much to Zatanna's protests who say you should think more about it, you love it and absolutely roll with the name. Pinkie (you jokingly say Pie when people ask if there's more)
Your ultimate villain? Music Miester.
You both thrive on being wild and (since this is based off a party pony in a musical magical world) you're both pretty great singers. You're chaotic good. He's chaotic evil. Your dynamic is like that one episode of Wander Over Yonder with Doctor Screwball Jones (if you know then you know)
You take Music Mister on with ironically more seriousness and Joker wishes he had what you have with choir boy.
If this was a yandere batfam route? Then it's pretty obvious that they're gonna try to connect with you, much to your discomfort.
You're all grown up and they didn't notice. And now you have powers? Are you a meta? A magic user? It's another thing that wedges you apart.
You're too different from them. They think you're too immature and ignorant with your cupcakes and bunches of hugs and obviously you don't need much effort.
They probably keep you in the dark of their nightly fight against crime. You're silly, not dumb so you probably don't say anything. They most likely wouldn't take you seriously anyway if you insisted on joining in or helping. Your place is upstairs smiling.
You're seen as a natural built sibling who is happy and is just always here when they're home like a excitable dog. So they give you a pat on the head and move on. You don't need to be a Robin and they can work on the more troubled souls in the family, thinking you'll be okay on your own. You're low effort compared and while yes, it hurts and creates future problems for them.
They're idiots and unfortunately for them, you're a real person who can stray when you find something(or someone) that treats you like one
More clarification: your powers!!
Cartoon physics. Your magic makes it easier to bend yourself a little bit of the world around you. You have both villains and heroes questioning where you got a full size canon or that random piñata. Was it your hair? Some believe your hair is magic pocket dimensions with how big it feels sometimes and you're found holding cups with your strands with a tuba that wasn't there before.
Pinkie sense. It's probably not as strong as the original pony's but you sometimes get a premonition that something is gonna happen.
Knowing you're gonna have a good or bad day when you have a tingling feeling from your head to toes or unable to stop twitching your hair and being prepared a head of time is a blessing and a curse. Sometimes you don't get a feeling at all unless it's unsettlingly wrong. You tend to listen close to the signs after living in a house full of night crawling, paranoid detectives.
Your wand is sometimes for decoration but you'd argue it's for important for the vibe and...
...the few spells you can do. Nothing too big by yourself yet and without the right book but some minor things. Perhaps a minor illusion or a light spell, a quick small fire bolt, the ability to mold earth or water (I'm thinking along the lines of DND cantrip spells).
They don't seem like much at first glance but you're learning and might even have more under your sleeves and have your wits with you. You use your magic in creative ways that have people scratching their heads but you get the job done.
N/A: if you made it this far, thanks for reading!! I've been having fun writing and drawing these kinds of things and honestly it's understandable how easily you get hooked on neglected reader stories. I know I'm a sucker for them and I hope this makes sense and it's been enjoyable so far like it has been for me.
I didn't think it would be so much lengthy ngl. It was only supposed to be art but I got carried away ha
This is how I imagined what they looked like if I really needed to but it's not really canon to my au.
The only thing really is the bright pink hair and their hero name would in fact be Pinkie since that's what everyone calls them. They roll with it
This take is more of a feminine form (a bat!sis route I guess) since I'm feminine and I was the only reference I had on hand when I was drawing this. Realistically I'd make it gender neutral to include everyone
They'd obviously still be in JLD but this is just a standard issue ID.
I saw the original ID cards and wanted to make my own inspired one. Probably the most I've used the square tool
I have a more full body design but we'll see if I actually ever get around finishing it (it's absolutely covered in food and yes this is Grand Galloping Galla inspired)
Without their little graffiti below
I'm not quite satisfied with the colors yet but I like the feel of the outfit. Maybe I'll make a more gender neutral one in the future and actually do some real rendering
For any clarification: This piece really is mine and the watermark is my main account @ghostdoodlen where my most of my art is. This is just here cuz it ties in to the story
I've read a lot of neglectful reader fics ft Batman and they're all fun. So I bring to the table: Pinkie Pie inspired! Reader ft Zatanna
N/A: Be warned, I had no beta reader and I am tired. Possibly not make sense. This is more like an outline than an actual fic
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍭ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍭ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍭ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ
Something I haven't read yet is a reader who's been left behind but is still full of smiles and revels in sunshine unlike the bats which pulls them really apart from them further. But it's hard to keep a smile in a family of people like them and you cave in on youself. The bats don't look or notice. Strong is their faith that you'll still be in the sky shining even if they haven't bothered to check in a long while.
In their eyes they don't need to.
You're normal, a civilian who isn't haunted by this city. A happy kid who doesn't need Lady Gotham's burden on your shoulders. You're a star gone too fast and your supernova is still too quiet and light-years away out of their eyes, the impact wouldn't hit them until much later.
It hurts to be ignored, left by your mother and never truly being able to connect to the batfam for many reasons that could be expanded later. For a while they're like another typical angsty reader until it hits you.
A powerful rainbow that waves over the ever so gloomy city of Gotham and brings them such joy they've never felt seeing and the colors washes over them as light fills their eyes and hair turns an unnatural curly pink.
I propose Zatanna in Gotham or maybe near the outskirts of the city having vanquished another foe only to immediately have an admirer who loves her flare, theatrical and charismatic charm.
Perhaps the reader had something sparked within them after witnessing their first encounter with magic. Whether it be biological or affected by a spell during the skirmish drastically.
Not wanting a potentially risky situation to go bad if this kid doesn't get help and while feeling responsible, Zatanna gets what she calls her new magic assistant (sidekick, partner, protege, etc.).
You drift further away and see your family less than before, do things you couldn't believe you had the ability to do before and finally have someone who picks you first. Teaches and encourages you the way you always should have had in your civilian life and new enchanted one too.
Your life has a lot more smiles again and laughter has never felt so sweet. So full and warm before. You're louder, dramatic, a bit looney and nonsensical honestly with magic coursing through your veins now but happier.
It's not until a mandatory meeting with all the Justice League members happens and across is all the members of the JLD, including you. Bright colors for a uniform, new hair, a funny wand you take a cartoonish bite of and a new moniker that doesn't sound close to a bat or a bird
Only then do they realize you strayed away from the nest you never quite had a room in.
For clarification, Reader does have magic and it works exactly like how Pinkie Pie works. They run a bit of toon logic but can still be as vulnerable. I'm still trying to figure it out myself but I can imagine, it's their joy and the joy around others that they draw power from (and maybe perhaps if something's funny? Who knows. They have beef with the Joker)
*ੈ♡✩₊༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆｡♡˚
EXTRA:
Honestly I love this idea so much. It's something that's been on my mind while I'm trying to write for other stuff and this is something that just keeps circling around my head no matter what. I even have fanart which I may post here or my main blog
Half of me doesn't wanna insert it because everyone should be able to put themselves in and imagine whatever they want including gender and all
I can't decide if they and the Joker would have a funny-off or they'd just straight up grab a confetti cannon and try to blow him into shredded confetti
I hope you guys enjoy this. It's a messy thing and not at all polished. I'm on my last brain cell as I'm typing this but I've always wanted to write my own neglected reader. It always looked fun
It's been a hot second but I'm back for some Valentine shenanigans
Word count: 1k+
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The streets of hell flooded with the usual sight of violence. Those who just happen to be lucky found themselves inside for the day spending a nice and actual romantic day. Rarely did love birds go out for the holiday. Typically that was reserved for singles going out for too wild parties and bars. Getting wasted and wasting whatsoever they saw in sight for the thrill of it.
Cannibals especially would be eager to participate this time of year, if only to decorate their town in a banner arranged with intestines spelling “Happy Valentine’s Day” and real hearts from whatever poor soul happened to run into them stolen from right behind their rib cages to be hung on the occasional street lamp.
You weren’t quite sure how they got to twist them up so flawlessly without tears or rupture. It could be chalked up to decades of practice. Even while in the war when you had developed a strong stomach, did you think a person would be so…creative with what they had to work with.
The one Valentine’s day you treasured in your heart that was still very much in your own body was when you were alive, serving your days as an Auto Memories Doll. Writing for others who could not do it for themselves. A job you took almost mechanically yourself until you learned to live and love up to your timely death. You had written love letters for lovers, the elderly sending thoughts to those who passed, inspiration to poets and fellow writers who in turn gave it back as well. This day of affection and cherishment seemed to never fail you to bring you to a nostalgic feeling even after decades in hell.
Currently you were in the library in the Hazbin Hotel with your dear friends and your typewriter; a gift from Sir Pentious before his erupted departure of his supposed death. If you could call that now. With the events of the past weeks or months–you’ve lost track with the whirlwind of events–redemption confirmed, the rise and fall of The Vees, Lucifer’s capture as well as Alastor and whatever schemes he may have had. Lot’s of things have happened but one thing you hadn’t expected was an angel at your doorstep. More specifically your feet thrown right in front of you from a portal.
You silently peered down at the blonde angel, Abel, if you remembered correctly. A sweet guy who made his rounds greeting everyone at the hotel enthusiastically, after the battle against the Vees of course, and for reasons unknown to you, armed to the teeth with gift baskets to anyone he meant and taffy candy in the other.
He had been tagging along with Emily, another angel but a seraphim to be exact who had adamantlyfought for redemption alongside Charlie and Sir Pentious guide in heaven. They had been a more steadily frequent company around the establishment. Emily kept up with the progress of the hotel in person, catching up with the new friends she made down here and delivering letters and messages that the first redeemed soul could not deliver himself. She even had a special hat she wore when delivering those, naming it something that was beyond your recollection besides a pun.
Abel, although, only came around if Emily went. Perhaps the nerves of being with the condemned. Someone of angelic background and the son of Adam who was ridden with anxiety as him most likely felt comfortable with a friend around in such a harrowing place. Not that he didn’t seem to not form any relations here. As anxious as he appeared, he seemed to be a very open and relaxed individual. While younger than the blonde, your limited knowledge was overshadowed by his own. Not that you had minded. Different circumstances and such tended souls to prioritize differently. To each their own. It was kind, should something allude you, he had an answer or be ready to seek on your behalf. Kind indeed he was
The same two celestial beings were at the moment shoving each other. Emily opening a portal in hell with too much ease for someone of her rank to be doing. You suppose there was no real harm (many would argue against this statement as there was in fact multiple dangers in the hotel ranging from the actual King of Hell who was more-so a figurehead if you thought too hard about it, the radio demon with no known strings tied to him and even Nifty’s ever-growing army of roaches).
“Emmy please, it was just a suggestion! A thought really–a really, really, dumb thought–let’s just go back and we can watch another rom-com together with the gang,”
Having made a portal, the sight of them wrestling to the floor was a comical one that made you watch on in curiosity. Limbs tangled in the push that made them cross realms and a variety of classic gifts. A blue soft bear with a top hat, a bouquet of flowers that was quickly being demolished under the struggle and a chocolate box in the shape of a heart. Anything else was tossed by a heaving Abel, face deeply red. Whether it was from Emily tackling and seizing the man in…whatever this was or some embarrassment, it was unclear to your eyes.
“Nonsense! It’s the perfect time. All we have to do is find them! Oh, this is so exciting-”, the high angel chirped with an odd determination in her eyes.
A simple cough from you had them swerving their heads. Abel’s face bloomed a red that only tinted darker. Emily’s eyes only glowed as she squealed. Unable to pinpoint what was the cause of this unexpected surprise visit or the ever growing grin on her face as she pulled her friend from the floor. It was akin to watching a dying man seeing his own death before he’s directly shoved in front of you as the seraphim has nothing to offer but a squeal before she scooped up the remaining bundle of holiday assortment into his arms and pushed her friend right in front of you.
A clear grin on her face, the pupils of her eyes dilating alarmingly if you weren’t already used to such behavior from Charlie. Really, they could declare each other as sisters and no one would argue. Her words only inspire more confusion but as you look back at the angel and the palpable stress practically seeping from his pores and the hint hue adorned on Abel’s face is clear, a new wave of understanding hits you.
“Okay bye-bye, see you later. Have fun!” With a mad cackle, she makes a dash for her portal and closes it before he has the idea to flee back as well.
“...”
“...”
There’s a beat of silence between the two of you, before a nervous smile cracks on his face and offers up a single flower from the crushed bouquet to you, a humble teddy bear and a box of chocolates.
“For you?” He offers sheepishly.
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Author's Note: It's been a while since I've posted! Sorry for the spelling mistakes, i made this last night. This is for a friend @forbidden-sunlight who I meant to write a Christmas fic for but time had slipped away from me and now we're already in February! Dedicating this fic and this quick doodles too I made to them. So Happy Valentine's day to all the lovers and fellow singles. This was pretty short but I hope you all enjoyed. I'm more of an artist so writing is a bit hard for me. Absolutely go read my friend's Hazbin Hotel Violet AU. It's a fun read!
You know what would be a great character inspired reader in a word of parody superheroes?
Starfire in the Boys.
I admittedly haven't watched The Boys in forever and my memory is spotty at best but I think it would be a fun idea.
Whether you're a real alien in this universe crashing landing on Earth and confirming that intelligent life does exist outside of their planet or another project like Jack from Jupiter or like Homelander who is an artificial supe and marketed as a galactic princess from space. You're probably a big hit with children and your merch goes crazy.
Pink and purple has been done and so has black so I introduce to you: blue sapphire 💙
SaphFIRE
Armed with the ability to turn solar energy into power, flight, strength, healing, enhanced senses along with linguistics assimilation and etc.
A person who's genuinely kind-hearted, sweet, and a tad naive.
Maybe due to being isolated for your whole life and seen as uncontrollable while in the labs of Vought, refusing to cooperate. They deemed you unfit for the world. Tested and pushed until you had enough, breaking free and in chains as their first introduction to society is making a huge and destructive scene in the middle of a city.
Vought deciding you're too much of a valuable asset to simply kill off—but at the current moment wild in the eyes of the public—sends another hero to either calm you down or subdue.
Going off more canon? They succeed in calming you down and unfortunately for them, everyone now knows you exist. The corporation is forced to spin you off as a new permanent visitor and hero on Earth.
This route could make you more hesitant, distrustful as you know the harsh reality and treatment of your creators but also naive in the way you don't have the knowledge of most people. Pop culture and social cues lost on you, speech hypothetically affected. No warm memories of family, customs or holidays if you're a lab rat.
Or you simply could be an alien who just doesn't know the ways of Earth.
Either way, you slowly get to learn and explore. Meeting new people and fascinated by everything you see.
Finding a cat? You're obsessed and have to stop every time on the street to pet it. Discovering a new color you've never seen? You're all over that and your room in the tower is that exact shade for weeks. Technology? You probably broke a few phones before learning your lesson and were overly careful for a while.
The media most likely have lots of your firsts uploaded online that people watch like animal videos.
You'd be a pretty powerful and popular supe in the world. Someone who draws the eyes of people easily. Not only the general public is watching you but some certain people as well.
Happy New years! I hope you're all having a great 2026 so far. First writing post of the year! I wanted to finally break off of Hazbin Hotel. I still will be writing it and have lots of drafts but hope to start expanding and get a good feel for other fandoms to see what other stuff I wanted to write. Hope you enjoyed reading!
Hazbin Hotel x young Theater Kid! Doll Reader: Prologue
Warning: body description, petite size (for the small fries like me but I'll do my best to keep it gender neutral), very possible light thoughts of body dysphoria, and anything else that could possibly be trigging? Minor possession of accidental acquisition of power, murder?? This can be considered part 1 if I considered continuing and making this a series.
Thanks to my last minute beta reader who made sure this was coherent enough to make sense. As always, read at your own risk.
Summary: The shenanigans of a theater kid somehow stumbled into becoming an overlord by accident and tricking everyone into thinking they're a lot older than they seem.
So you're in hell.
That's about blunt and as sure as you can get when you literally popped up into the fiery pits of hell surrounded by what looks like if humanity said "fuck the law" and crime wasn't a Victorian lady afraid of showing her ankles or something.
The hell you know what you're talking about. This is hell.
Definitely not metaphorically when you told your history teacher last week when you had to listen to them recite an old history book all monotone like without the needed pizzazz and you insisted it needed more flare in order for anyone to be legally allowed to listen.
Now instead of being in a lecture right now, you're dead. Still fresh in the stage costume you died in from a stage accident and when you stumble in an alley, landing your eyes on a puddle (and it rains here? Is it acidic? Are you gonna need to carry an umbrella?) you can see your reflection.
There in the murky water, is the soiled image of carved eyes of an unfamiliar wooden face, staring right back at you. It doesn't take you very long to realize the reflection is yours.
"What in Charles Dickens am I supposed to be?"
The new face doesn't look like that one you lived one with your entire life. Neither does any part of your body look anything familiar. It's smaller. Shorter and seems to be held together with what has to be magic and nails.
You look at the beginning of your finger tips down to your wrists you twist around where the sound of clicks and rattles come from.
Your features as you've started are carved and all dressed up to the nines if this was the 1800s. In the land of the living you'd either be considered a cute puppet or something cursed and immediately to be burned at the stake. It's a thought you'll have a crisis over later or maybe you'll be lucky and you'll think the new look will be sick as hell.
Hell. Of course, because where else would any person involved in the arts with your internet history would go?
Your face is in a grimace, tight with growing panic, "The end of puberty was in my hands, how am I gonna deal with this? I didn't even finish my will. How will my friends know what they get now."
Getting up and walking to the edge of the alley you're still in, you lean your head out and peek at the streets once more.
Inferno that everyone dreads is more modern than one would think. Tall buildings with even bigger advertisements in oversaturated lights looming over. It's loud, the air filled with the filthy sound of curses mixed with the booming echoes of sickening laughter. Other normal chatter too; scuffling of shoes, and the faint engines purring, the voices of the residents minding their own business. It's all teetering between overstimulating and bewitching the same way you pay attention to a TV screen for too long.
One look and it's easy to see the blue view is gone. All there is a giant pentagram decorating the red, almost purple tinted sky with that looked to be a matching with a paired moon or sun. Perhaps it was a planet to another plane of existence or just a dumb, big rock with another star on it. Not that you would ask. It would be too embarrassing to ask a complete stranger and get laughed in the face for not understanding a fact that could be obvious.
A deeper glance at the skies showed something farther off in the distance. A faint white glow with wisps of more whites that didn't match the dark aesthetic of your new home.
A second later you're too busy wrestling with another sinner off your back to the ground, who has the gall to do something like trying to mug a new forever resident, to afford it any more thought.
"OH SWEET GATSBY-WHAT THE FUCK-"
=
You look numbly down at the skull of whatever guy came at you in your quite literally rattling, shaking hands. Some skeleton-looking jerk who didn't come at you with any weapons, so better for you. You suppose. His stupidity is your own win.
The fact that this sinner who you assumed was trying to rob you or maybe kill you for funsies didn't go as they planned. They went down quite easily actually when you found a brick to arm yourself and now you have a souvenir of a man you just killed.
You squint your eyes and tilted your head as if the dead man could answer you, you said "I'm in hell. I'm in hell and I killed a person. You-sorry about that but also fuck you-and now what do I do?"
Unfortunately your new paperweight didn't answer back, that fine, he can be petty like the double dead man he is. You tucked the skull in your hands and walked out of the alley. You muttered under your breath "I'm gonna survivor the fuck out of this place. "
Taking to the streets, you immediately go to find the nearest building to get some food and to see if you can find something for free because the real sin is that you're dead and still hungry.
Author's Note: Not very original but it stuck in my head at work and I wanted to add my own spin to it. My sister showed me that Pinocchio movie and it was pretty good so I got this idea. Thanks for reading!
I was originally gonna come out with the Theater kid reader first but I was so inspired by the last episode and Abel once again instantly took root in my brain so I wrote this last night before I fell asleep and haunts me forever
Summary: You're home waiting for the love of your life and leader of the angel army to come back to your arms after the attack on heaven.
Heads up it's a little bit of angst? I swear it's sweet(ish?) at the end. I also did not have a beta reader sooo... Read at your own risk as always!
The pounding of your own heart beat is still loud in your ears. You have to remind yourself you're home now. In the safety of familiar walls but they feel anything but secure at the moment. Even the briefest of moments when you close your eyes brings no solace. The second your eyelids blink, the imagery of that golden beam appears-usually such a warm color feels so cold-that terrifying streak of light passing above your head plagues you. The thought of it any lower, any closer could've ended you in a moment's notice.
Your afterlife over.
Eyes darting to the clock, you shift anxiously from your spot on the couch. It's currently dusk, the sky a beautiful mix of growing blues and purples that extinguishes almost all the golden and orange hues.
Your Abel still isn't back yet.
It's been hours since the attack on heaven and you can still hear the panic of the shrieks of your fellow angels who thought this would be their last day. Something you all believe would never come again.
Abel should've been home by now.
Your hands occupy a throw pillow you had gotten as a gift for your fifth anniversary together. It's a cute golden pillow with his and your initials together. A present to add to your shared home and a reminder of his love every time you come home after a long, hard day that it'll be the first thing you see. That you'll remember how much he loves you.
You wish he was home.
Your nails pick at a loose thread that you'll fix eventually later when you're not panicking. Right now it's the only thing keeping you calm. That and the fact that no one comes over to the house to give you some sort of apology about his death and a damn gift basket over a loss that probably didn't even happen.
Why isn't he home?
"Where are you?" You mutter into the pillow, voice muffled but no less stressed.
The attack is over. The seraphim's announcement had informed everyone that everyone is alive, there was no casualties on your side. Heaven is safe again, they were going to work on relations with hell. Everything is fine and dandy again. There was relief you'll sure feel later at the facts but couldn't care less at the moment. All you wanted was your lover.
You look up at the clock again. It's only been seven minutes but the hands on that contraption felt so heavy. Too slow for your liking.
It's hard to relax. No amount of stress baking, painting or pacing until your floors bore holes from your soles would do any good anyway. At least here you have a good view of the door. Getting up to distract yourself would only make you spiral harder but you know what you're doing isn't any better. Still. You don't want to pretend everything is fine. They won't be until your angel is next to you.
By your side making lighter hearted puns about how everything is chill, chattering about a cute squirrel he saw and what's planned for dinner. It's Thursday so even if you both deliberate over the matter like trying to solve quantum physics, it always goes to circling back to pasta night and playing rock paper scissors decide on what kind you're getting for dinner.
Instead you're alone and left wondering.
Maybe he's still in hell helping with the poor souls who did face real casualties. Perhaps he's in a meeting with Sera, his boss, and his lieutenant who doesn't like him much, Lute.
It hurts not knowing.
It hurts more when the door finally opens and you tiredly raise your head up to see the love of your life looking worse and most likely moreso inside.
The beating heart in your chest sighs in relief. It doesn't do so for long as he slowly trudges inside. The door doesn't slam shut. It softly closes behind him with a click that's almost inaudible.
Abel looks ragged. His hat is crumbled in one trembling hand, the feature droops while his exorcist helmet is slack in the other like he'll drop it any second. His crooked halo seemed dimmer somehow if that's possible. The soft posture he's known for is nowhere to be found. Instead it's slumped, like he is holding and almost crushed by an invisible boulder on his shoulders. A burden that's been dumped on your poor, softhearted angel must carry.
The sound of soft, labored breath echoes the usual lively living room and the thuds of boots drag on the floor. The sounds of bright wings would be flapping along excited while he tells you about his day in your shared home are missing. His blonde hair is in all sorts of different directions and the marching band attire is stained with dirt and rubble. Your eyes scan his entire body head to toe and it seems like that's the most damage he gotten physically from the ordeal that you can see.
Mentally? You know there's something wrong.
His eyes are unfocused, hardened by a way that wasn't there before. Sweat drips down his jaw and his brow is furrowed like he's thinking hard about something. Your guy is somewhere else entirely, although when you sigh his gaze immediately snaps out of it. Head whipping to the couch where you sit perched.
Just like that your Abel comes back. His eyes fill up with tears and he chokes up a bit. A small sob escaped those lips you oh so adore. You can the heat and stinging of your own threatening to spill at the sight of him dropping the things in his arms as he stumbles over to you, almost tripping over himself in the process.
Another cry leaves him as you open your arms, ready to receive and comfort the man you love.
A shutter wracks through your body as big arms and golden wings wrap around you tightly as you desperately hold him back. The security of his presence wrapping around you.
"Welcome home."
You've never heard your voice quite as delicate before. Never has he if the sudden tightness of your embrace increases was any indication. Abel laughs wetly between sobs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. Hiccuping he says, "Sorry to keep you waiting... I'm home."
You both stay there for a while there. Solely finding comfort in the aftermath of a horrible, no good day. Night creeps up on you but the both of you make a move to retire. A night on the couch it is.
He doesn't talk about what happened and neither do you ask. There's too much to say, too much questions to ask and not knowing how to begin. Up closer you can see the smudge of golden blood from his nose like it's been nastily wiped away. You don't ask about it either no matter how badly your throat aches to keep all the words you want to say out loud.
When he's ready, you'll have a patient ear to listen and a hand for him to hold on to.
For now? You're satisfied he's here in your arms.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading! Abel's solo really hit me in the feels and I just wanted to add a bit of comfort. It's really rushed and I wrote this like rn after I just finished the season. Sorry for any mistakes!
I have never done one of these at all so please pardon my writing skills. I feel like the fandom has been like an empty well and I gotta fetch my own water.
There isn't enough Abel (which fair, we've only had him for one episode) but a girl's gonna eat and imma try my best to make something edible
Read at your own risk and I'm not sure if I need a warning? Other than the fact I didn't have a beta reader
Kudos to those who write their own cuz this is low-key nerve-racking but I gotta feed myself o7
Summary: An angel's attempt at romance. Abel-centric and no dialogue
Abel has been in heaven for a long time.
He's just about seen everything it has to offer but there's nothing wrong with that in his opinion! Life in paradise is really great and relaxing, doesn't have much trouble with other than the occasional...very not so pleasant run in with his father, Adam, with constant pep talks that weren't so much as much pep in them as it was more like constantly dunking and badgering with his right hand woman Lute to egg him on.
Other than that?
A nice and peaceful time with his buddies, pangolins, discotheque, and his favorite rom-coms all throughout the year ft. world's greatest actor, Santa Claus. Who could ask for more?
Apparently he could actually when his felt the tip of his wings slightly spaz before his heart would remember to beat again as you passed by him, walking side by side with Sera and engaged what looked to be a pleasant conversation about something he couldn't even begin to pay attention to with how your eyes seem to crinkle ever so softly in mirth and while there wasn't a clear smile, the corner lips seemed to naturally tilt up. Just teasing one and left wondering what it would look like with a grin.
Now Abel has known you since his first day settled in the golden kingdom.
Perhaps you are a virtue or seraphim. He's never gotten exactly the chance to ask since every close confrontation has him clumsily ducking behind close surface and unaware his dented halo obviously peeks out to everyone's, including your amused eyes. Anytime he tries to ask anyone else about you his tongue becomes useless. Too flustered to bring up his infatuation, not that anyone else can't already see it all the way from Hell.
It gets to the point where Emily can no longer be held back by Sera (who she promised not to scare you off or completely get in the way of your job) and dragged along for the adventure is Saint Peter who's gladly joined to help a friend of course and for the drama.
Maybe even Sir Pentious is recruited depending if this is after s2 ep2. A bit reluctant but easily swayed by notion of love.
This trio for sure created a name for their slowly growing team with code names and a name for your group. Something like Operation Go Angel In Love or Mission Get Abel Out Of The Bachelor Room And Attain Afterlife Happiness. They're work shopping it right now. They'll eventually figure it out.
There were multiple attempts. Small at first in love letters and sweet gifts that would quickly escalate. A song montage, hills of flowers and fireworks in your favorite colors. Balloons with your face on them, a parade marching down the streets in your name but everything overdone and over the top in a cartoonish way that whatever they built would fall apart on itself that they'd have to scrap the entire idea before they think you got the chance to see it and move on the next plan to woo you.
At the end of the day or however long they've been trying
Maybe it's been days or weeks, but at some point it all becomes too much with too little progress. Abel finds himself away from all his friends, flat on his back with his wings splayed out under him and in an empty bed of meadow that reminds him of his days herding his old sheep.
Maybe it was time to step back a bit. It's not like he was completely giving up on you! Just maybe a tiny tiny tactical retreat from these bold and confronting advances that seemed way out of his comfort zone was doing no good on his mind. There was nothing wrong with going back to his bubble! It was comfy and when he was ready, he'd try again-
When he looked up to rest his eyes on clouds to reflect on his recent pursuit of romance, he found something more beautiful than billions of tiny water droplets suspended in the air in the form of the angel of his dreams, face above his smiling down at him.
Maybe this was a test from God to prove his strength. What strength he doesn't know. A hallucination! A better answer really that his brain created after all those fail attempts coming back to bite him in the arse.
At the same time, he doesn't think he's ever seen you this close to be able to remember all the intricate details carved on your face. The curve of your wings or every eyelash count be counted from this distance. The second son's own wings once again spazzed from beneath him at the realization that this-you are not a figment of his imagination. The desperate subconscious need to show off each golden feather to impress you is embarrassing but in this position when his wings are trapped under him, gives off the impression puffed up, startled in a not very dignifying-like manner.
Abel hopes it truly comes off that way, he's already wincing internally. He wasn't even trying this time!
You on the other hand, don't seem to mind his behavior. All you do is sit down next to him as he goes to scramble and sit up to match you.
The lingering anxiety of having you here doesn't go away and words work hard to make it out of his lips, but maybe baby steps are more than okay when he sees the same beat in your wings that makes his heart skip.
Author's Note: sorry if the ending seems particularly rushed. Tumblr screwed me over and completely deleted most of my writing so as someone who's getting back into writing? Very depressing and discouraging. It was going to be longer but I couldn't write anymore after that but at least it's out. Sorry for any errors because of that and mischaracterization, again it's been a while since I've written anything.
