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pluckyredhead · 1 year ago

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What the heck is going on in Batman/Gotham War?

I know a lot of people in fandom are confused and/or upset about what's been going on in Gotham War - why is Bruce acting like this, what is Selina doing, why are the Batkids taking sides. So I figured I would fill you all in on what's been happening in Batman and Catwoman since Chip Zdarsky took over with Batman #125, because it has been BONKERS and I have been enjoying the hell out of it.

Below, the quickest summary I can manage while still being comprehensive:

[Content warning: mental illness, abuse, suicide (...ish), LOTS of violence.]

The first arc, "Failsafe," starts with Batman and Robin (Tim, in this case) in pursuit of the Penguin, who is on a killing spree. In the very first issue, Tim gets shot in the neck. Bruce has to take him to the hospital, but first he has to strip him out of his costume and put him in civilian clothes to preserve their secret identities, triggering memories of when he had to do the same to Jason's dead body. There is LITERALLY NO PURPOSE TO ANY OF THIS EXCEPT WHUMP (Tim is back in action with a fucking BAND-AID on his neck very quickly), which is how I knew this was going to be good. Beat Tim up! Make Bruce cry about Jason! I want these men to suffer! (There is also SO much to be said about Tim's own Poor Mental Health Decisions throughout the entirety of Zdarsky's run so far, but that's for a separate meta post.)

Anyway. Bruce leaves Tim in the hospital and goes to confront Penguin, who turns out to be dying of mercury poisoning. He kills himself and makes it look like Batman did it, forcing Bruce to flee. (Penguin actually faked his death and is alive elsewhere under an alias, but that's not important right now.)

In the Batcave, a massive robot called Failsafe emerges. Failsafe attacks Bruce, who usually eats killer robots for breakfast, but he can't seem to get the upper hand on this one. Duke, Cass, Steph, and Dick show up to help, but Failsafe beats them all too, while Tim gets an injured Bruce away and to the Batcave.

In the Batcave, Bruce puts on a weird purple and red Batman costume and a new personality takes over: the Batman of Zur-En-Arrh. Now, Zur has a very complicated history going back to 1958, but for the purposes of this story, all you need to know is that when he was younger, Bruce decided it would be good to hang out in a sensory deprivation chamber until his mind created a secondary personality, Zur, who is essentially Batman without Bruce. Zur is pure efficiency who does not care about anything but the mission. He created Failsafe, for one purpose: to kill Bruce if Bruce ever crossed the line and killed someone. And right now, Failsafe believes that Bruce killed Penguin.

Failsafe nearly kills Tim, which Zur is okay with writing off as an expendable soldier's death, but this causes Bruce to take control of the body back because "Tim isn't my soldier...HE'S MY SON!" (Tim Nation, why are you not ALL OVER this story? It's catnip.)

Babs calls in the JLA (SuperBat fans, you will also want to read Bruce's adoring description of Clark when he shows up), but of course Failsafe has kryptonite, which it stabs Clark with. The League dumps Clark and Bruce into the JLA jet and distracts Failsafe while Tim flies Clark and Bruce to the Fortress of Solitude. Bruce tells Tim he's a good boy and jumps out of the jet and into the ocean so that Tim and Clark will be safe from Failsafe. He's rescued by Arthur, who takes him to Atlantis to heal. THIS HAS ALL ONLY BEEN FOUR ISSUES SO FAR.

Two weeks later, Bruce wakes up to discover that Failsafe has taken over Gotham. He teleports up to the JLA Watchtower on the moon to lure Failsafe there, then blows the Watchtower up, hoping to catch a ride on one of the Javelins. But Failsafe has already destroyed them, so Bruce RIDES A BOOSTER ROCKET BACK TO EARTH, OXYGEN MASK CLAPPED OVER HIS FACE. The whole thing has some powerful Scooty-Puff Jr energy.

The only tricky part is reentry, when Bruce starts to burn up - his costume is fireproof, of course, but his chin is exposed. SO HE TAKES OFF HIS LITTLE BAT-PANTIES AND PUTS THEM OVER HIS HEAD. I swear to god this happened in a real comic book and the entire "Bruce falls off the moon and survives" sequence is utterly delectable goofy nonsense and I truly cannot recall a time I've had more fun reading a comic book.

Anyway, Bruce lands directly outside of the Fortress, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DOES, and runs inside to find Clark and Tim. While Clark keeps Failsafe distracted, Bruce and Tim program nanobots to inject compassion into Failsafe. I SWEAR TO GOD. They zap him with the nanobots, but Failsafe pulls a high tech space gun out of the Fortress and shoots Bruce with it anyway, apparently disintegrating him. Tim falls to his knees in the snow, weeping. TIM NATION, WAKE UP, THIS RUN IS CANDY FOR YOU.

But of course Bruce isn't dead! That wasn't a killing gun, it was a "zap you into another dimension" gun!!! THAT was the compassion!

So Bruce finds himself in a dystopian alternate Gotham, and I'll be honest, I didn't love this arc ("The Bat-Man of Gotham") as much as I loved "Failsafe," but it has its moments. In this Gotham, Bruce Wayne is dead, so Regular Bruce is like "Oh boy, time to Batman this place up." Also he's plagued by hallucinations of a skeleton version of Jim Gordon who is still wearing a trench coat AND A MUSTACHE. Like I said, it has its moments.

This Gotham is controlled by Arkham, and anyone who is diagnosed as "crazy" is locked up. A new villain, Red Mask, is in charge, and Selina and a Venomed-up Harvey Dent work for him. Bruce teams up with an orphan kid (of course) named Jewel and goes after Red Mask, who turns out to be some guy named Darwin Halliday and ALSO...the Joker. Well, he's the Joker who hasn't been Jokerized yet. But one time he breathed in some chemicals that let him see into the main reality of the DCU (???) and glimpsed Regular Joker and now he wants to build an interdimensional machine to mentally connect with Regular Joker across universes which he assumes will make him insane, NATURALLY.

Bruce attacks Red Mask, who sics a Venomed-up Ghost Maker on him. Ghost Maker cuts off Bruce's right hand. Bruce cauterizes it with an electroshock machine and ties some spikes on it (SERIOUSLY) and goes after Red Mask again. Meanwhile Red Mask mentally connects with an alternate dimensional Joker...but instead of it driving Red Mask insane, he's what drives the Joker insane. Desperate to become the Joker somehow, anyhow, he jumps into the interdimensional portal, and Morally Dubious Alternate Universe Selina kicks Bruce in after him.

Meanwhile, Tim is in full "I KNOW I SAW HIM DIE BUT HE'S NOT DEAD" mode, which: bless. So he teams up with Jon Kent, which...gosh, what an astonishingly boring duo. I love Jon, I love Tim, they're perfectly nice and normal around each other, I'm falling asleep. Anyway Tim fights Toyman for a while and then makes a VERY stupid costume where the entire torso is a giant light-up R, because "I want him to see that Robin is coming to save him." GET A THERAPY, TIM.

Bruce finds himself first in the Michael Keaton Batman universe, then the Red Rain universe, BTAS, Batman Beyond (yes I know they're the same universe but I guess he goes there twice), Silver Age, Kingdom Come, Gotham by Gaslight, and more. Adam West gives him a utility belt. The Dark Knight Returns Bruce builds him a robot hand.

Finally Bruce and Red Mask reach the end of the multiverse, which is a Gotham asteroid floating in space, surrounded by giant Jokerized sharks. LUCKILY BRUCE HAS BAT-SHARK REPELLANT IN HIS ADAM WEST UTILITY BELT!!! Honestly this whole arc was worth it for that moment.

Bruce knocks Red Mask out, but now he's stuck. He has a device from Batman Beyond Bruce to get home, but it's only good for one person, and he can't leave Red Mask there to die. Of course, that's when Tim shows up in his stupid giant glowing R costume and they hug it out, thereby fulfilling but also compounding all of Tim's issues since 1989.

Anyway things are fine now, right? Sure, Bruce is hallucinating that his family is on fire, and the Zur personality is not going neatly back into the box where it's been all these years, and he still has a robot hand (Damian, hilariously, immediately announces that he wants one too), but he's FINE. He is a little bit mad at Selina, because she broke out of jail (she was in jail because she killed her fuckbuddy because he was trying to kill Bruce), and also because she didn't tell him Penguin was alive and that would have stopped Failsafe, and also because Other Selina kicked into another universe. Selina, very fairly, is like "Well I'm not responsible for Other Selinas and also maybe don't build robots to kill yourself with and not tell anyone about them???"

THEN we got Knight Terrors, the summer event in which a villain called Nightmare caused everyone to fall asleep and, uh, have nightmares. Bruce, specifically, had a nightmare that he met an eight-year-old version of himself that vomited up a man-sized bat with a gun for a head. I laughed SO HARD. Bruce also had his body borrowed by Deadman for the duration of the event, so while he endured the psychological toll of nightmares like everyone else, he also endured the physical toll of everything Deadman was doing PLUS the mental toll of being aware of what was happening in the waking world even though he couldn't control his body. As soon as the event was over, he lapsed into a coma so that his body could get some damn rest.

Okay. Now we're up to Gotham War.

(I know, I know. But for all of you who are like "How could Bruce do this???" about Gotham War...*points up* THAT'S HOW. HE IS NOT WELL.)

Bruce awakens from his coma and IMMEDIATELY decides to Fight A Crime even though Babs is like "Maybe don't?" But he can't find any crime, which is...weird. His kids confirm that Gotham's been super quiet since he's been out.

Selina hears that Bruce is awake and is like okay, time to pay the piper. She calls all of the Bats to a meeting and explains that she's the reason crime has been down. See, villains like Joker and Two-Face always have goons, right? But what if the goon supply dried up because the goons have better jobs? So Selina has trained All The Goons In Gotham to be...cat burglars. No violence, no stealing from anyone who can't afford it. More importantly, no helping Scarecrow or whoever commit mass murder.

All of the Batkids are like "Hmm...I feel uncertain about this, but it's working...I don't know what to think..." except for Jason, who thinks it's hilarious and is instantly Team Selina, and Damian, who is staunchly Team Bruce. Bruce, meanwhile, is like "No! NO! THIS IS CRIMES, AND CRIMES IS BAD!" and Selina's like "I mean, robbing from the rich is basically a victimless crime" and Bruce screams, I swear to god, "MY PARENTS WERE 'RICH'!" Inexplicable scare quotes and all. I laughed so hard.

Anyway this is the basis for Gotham War and it is endlessly hilarious to me because everyone in the Batfamily is supposed to be a genius and yet not one single character has pointed out that:

There are jobs the goons could be doing that AREN'T illegal. It's not just violent crime vs. nonviolent crime. There are in fact many other jobs! I am POSITIVE Gotham needs construction workers and hospital orderlies. (Yes, I know it's hard for people with records to get jobs. That isn't addressed.)

Being Batman is SUPER ILLEGAL.

They are all so stupid.

Selina's plan doesn't even work, because one of her thieves gets killed by a rich person defending their home, and Bruce is like "See? This is why crime is bad!" and like...pretty much snaps. He's particularly fixated on Jason, even (rhetorically) threatening to kill him, which is when the other kids jump into the fray on Jason's side, all except for Damian, who like I said is firmly Team Bruce. (This makes complete sense to me, Damian has been dealing with severe trauma and isolation pretty much nonstop since 2018 and he and Bruce have finally made a tenuous peace, so I can understand why he wouldn't want to lose that.)

Also, Vandal Savage buys Wayne Manor. It's so random and SO funny.

OKAY BATMAN #138. Bruce has kidnapped Jason and injected him with a variation on fear toxin which will be triggered whenever Jason's adrenaline spikes, the idea being that Jason is no longer capable of killing - but in practice, Jason is no longer capable of even getting up off the floor, he's so terrified. I want to be really, really clear here: Bruce is like 90% Zur here, and the only reason he goes this route and doesn't kill Jason is because the remaining 10% that's still Bruce loves Jason and is trying to help him. He's just incapable of good or humane help because Zur literally can't do feelings.

Dick knows something is up and is sneaking around Bruce's Secret Other House We've Never Heard Of to figure out what it is. Damian attacks him to protect Bruce. Tim attacks Damian so that Dick can do what he needs to do, and handcuffs Damian to a parking meter:

THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE!!! TIM GO TO THERAPY! DAMIAN GO TO THERAPY! EVERYONE GO TO THERAPY!!!!!

Dick figures out what Bruce did to Jason (it's on the computer, for...some reason?) and absolutely loses his shit on Bruce, beating the crap out of him, which tbh is the only thing that felt off to me in this run because frankly I don't think Dick likes Jason that much. BUT WHATEVER.

Tim pulls Dick off of Bruce. Bruce leaves them both tangled in a net and flees as the cops approach. Zur's like "Good, fuck 'em" in Bruce's head, because the cops will expose Dick, Tim, and Damian's secret identities and Bruce will be free of the dead weight of a family, but the little bit of Bruce still in there throws Dick a batarang so he can free them all in time.

Then Bruce leaves. Damian is devastated.

I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS PAGE. Damian really thought he could have Bruce's love and loyalty if he turned on everyone else! Tim is going to be a therapy dog to a Wayne even if he has to settle for the one he doesn't like! That unresisting, blank hug made me SCREAM when I turned the page. Incredible. (Also the art fucking S L A P S, god bless you Jorge Jimenez.)

ALSO it turns out that Selina's second in command has been Vandal Savage's daughter Scandal Savage the whole time and they are turning Selina's cat burglar army into their own personal army WHOOPS. (This also feels very OOC for Scandal but at this point I trust Zdarsky with my life so let's see where things go.)

SO THAT'S WHAT'S GOING ON IN GOTHAM WAR. TL;DR:

Bruce is unhinged because he nearly died like 19 times in a week and it unlocked the smaller, meaner purple Batman that lives inside him.

Selina is unaware that you can get money legally.

Tim is going to have a nervous breakdown if he can't fix someone, ANYONE.

Damian needs a hug but ideally from someone he actually likes this time.

Jason is so scared.

THE END.

#batman #bruce wayne #gotham war #meta #i can't believe how long this is

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aquamarignis · 2 months ago

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DAE think that Kalymos is a little too "sagacious"? + some theories about Albrecht's behavior

I'm as much a cat person as Albrecht the rest of us, and I know for a fact that a cat can be smarter than me. I lived it.

But isn't she a little too smart for a cat, even for a Kavat? A little too evolved?

What we know by now:

She almost never leaves Albrecht's side. She was even in the room with him when he took his bad trip to the Void. She even tried warning him that something was wrong, he just got it too late (ha!)

We know of exactly one instance where she is without him: it's her leading us to poor Arthur's Kinepage. She's all alone and seems to know perfectly well where she's going. And Albrecht may either be completely unaware of this incident, or know exactly what is happening.

She wakes Arthur up in the metro (Whispers in the Walls) on her own. But then seems unable to do anything else besides just sitting and watching, by which point "Albrecht" has arrived already.

We can also remember Loid telling us that Kalymos must have been long dead by now and that Albrecht has likely cloned her unbeknownst to the family. We don't know when exactly it has happened, though.

The name of the Kalymos Sequence.

By the time Albrecht takes the one-way trip to 1999, he is well aware of the fact that his consciousness is slowly but surely getting eaten away by Wally (just like his labs are).

We even have a way to measure it: his voice records.

The Requiem diaries in Necralisk. Clear, well-thought-out speech full of metaphors, with a cadence of someone used to giving speeches (you know, like an experienced speaker, lector, etc).

You can hear that some sentences are left hanging which is usually a trait of autistic-coded characters (i.e. Spencer Reed). But other than that he's well-spoken and knows his rhetorical devices.

Whispers in the Walls. Namely, the Pom records and the Grimoire page. He's already staggering here, in places where he shouldn't. The intonation changes it places where it shoudn't. Not normally. And you can hear some vowels starting to stretch where they weren't before. And his voice starts dropping where it didn't before.

"Arthur? Tenno? ... Hmm. Forgive me. I... need... Loid... to- understand why I had to leave. Without... him."

It's already noticeably hard for him to speak. Like he's fighting something at every step. It sounds like either he was piecing it together from several attempts, or like it was read by different individuals.

Albrecht's Notes in the Sanctum are a bit lighter case of the above. The speech is still rich, but the fight has already started.

And then the City Wide Metro Voicemail. By this point, nothing remains of the Albrecht who was dictating the Requiem notes. The voice is coarse, rough, slow. Every word comes with a push, almost like a mockery of what was before. He's hammering it in, without regard to intonation, punctuation and sometimes meaning. The wording becomes quite peculiar, too.

What do you think about my failsafe against this old, dead end experiment? I do not have time to care who you are or why you stumbled into this unsavory business? Your reality? Your species? This is already so different from what we've heard before that I would never say this is the same person. More like stranded, estranged twins.

And then, obviously, the infamous You Are Late which sounds exactly the same as the above.

...However, the law of conservation tells us that nothing can disappear without a trace. So if Albrecht's body is occupied by Wally, – where is Albrecht?

What if he did have a failsafe?

Just, as he himself said, "let it parody them [animals]"? He would never put Kalymos in harm's way, that's true. He mentions it in the same note.

But she was supposed to be dead at least at one point. What if back then he made a last-ditch effort to protect both their consciousnesses and souls by forming this union, not unlike Transference which he was so fascinated with?

What if it was him waking Arthur up, leading us to connecting with him, and eventually assisting us in joining forces to trap Wally and bring him down?

What if the point of the Kalymos Sequence is that the missing piece of Albrecht is now Kalymos?

#warframe #warframe 1999 #warframe albrecht #albrecht entrati #warframe kalymos #warframe theories #wf aquamarignis

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cemeteryspider · 5 months ago

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Family Fragments Part 1

Stanford Pines x Child! Reader

*No use of Y/n* *Fem Reader*

Summary: Flashback~ Ford must protect you, his innocent daughter, from becoming an unwilling pawn in the sinister schemes of an Interdimensional demon.

Trigger Warnings: Possession, Child Endangerment (thanks Bill), Psychological Manipulation, Mild Violence

Word Count: 1.1k

You shifted in your father's arms as he pushed through doors and walked through hallways from the basement of his shack in the woods into your room in the attic. You barely registered him tucking you into your bed and him kissing you on the forehead with his heavily chapped lips.

"Good night, Sweet pea," He whispered and the door clicked behind him.

A loud tired sigh echoed in the short stairwell down to the foyer. The descent down the staircase was heavy and creaky and when he came to the door in the basement he widened his eyes and allowed the retinal scanner to scan his eye confirming he was not possessed by Bill. He couldn’t help the yawn that escaped his lips as he entered the basement, cluttered with half-finished devices- scattered wires and gears glinting under the dim flickering light bulb hanging overhead.The unfinished portal stood tall in front of him humming a just so a he felt a soft vibration through the soles of his shoes.

He sat down at the workbench and resumed writing in the third journal. Drawing the new suit he was designing to keep Bill out of his mind for good, however there was the small problem of the brain he needed to complete the thing. However, his mind drifted to the mind erasing gun in the hand of the suit which reminded him of his old friend, who left him alone to work with his muse months ago.

Then he heard a not so subtle knocking coming from upstairs. At first he thought it was some random drunk knocking at the door and letting the person get bored of the odd old cabin in the woods, but after a succinct series of thuds and a hushed laughter he decided to investigate.

He breathed a sigh of relief—at least Bill couldn't sneak his way down there, not without triggering the failsafes. But as he looked up, his heart stopped. There you were, standing in the foyer, eyes glowing an unnatural yellow and a smile far too wide for your little face. It was a sight so wrong, so unsettling, that Ford could barely bring himself to speak.

Your limbs jerked awkwardly, like a marionette pulled by unseen strings, controlled by a puppeteer who lacked all finesse, "Hey, sixer!"

He stood frozen for a moment. Bill's voice coming from your mouth where your sweet little voice should have been, he swallowed a lump in his throat and forced himself to speak, "What are you doing here Bill?"

Bill grinned, twisting your lips into a mockery of a smile, "I just came by to see you and it seems as though you've taken certain... precautions to make sure I don't interrupt your research."

A chill went down Stanfords spine, his research into the Anti-Cipher Society, and the plans for the suit I had designed, "Let's talk face to face, Cipher. No need to bring my daughter into this."

"I suppose I could end our contract a bit earlier than I intended," And with that your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, and your scaleras the correct color once more. Quickly Ford ran toward you and stopped your descent before hitting the ground.

Bill floated around looking at the different furniture with great fascination, "What is wrong with you, she's just a child."

He cradled your head while you continued your sleep, "Yeah, quite a while since I made a deal with something so small, very difficult to control such small limbs. Painful falling down the stairs don't you think?"

His eyebrows rose and looked over your head moving your hair around, checking for any blood or bruising that could indicate a head wound or concussion.

Stop being such a stick in the mud, Sixer,' Bill sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. 'She’s perfectly fine…for now.' His tone darkened, and Ford’s blood ran cold as he watched Bill shift, his form flickering like a faulty lightbulb.

Ford clutched you tightly to his chest, his heart pounded erratically in his ribcage, "I think it's time for you to leave."

"Nothing more for me to do here, but just you wait I think I will see you again, real soon," With that the cabin seemed to gain its color back and you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

"Dad?" You whispered after a rather large yawn. He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at hearing your darling voice. His fingers trembled as they wrapped themselves around your small frame, almost as if you would slip right through his grasp into the nightmarish darkness Bill brought in. For a moment, he pressed his nose to the top of your head and breathed in your familiar scent, desperate to remind himself that you were here with him- still his little girl. A surge of guilt tightened his chest.

"Everything's going to be okay, Sweet Pea just go back to sleep." And you did. For so long he had stayed awake for as long as possible trying to avoid Bill gaining control of his body he forgot about you. A child with little contact with the outside world, and how easily children can be persuaded by older wiser beings. Bill is a master manipulator and Ford practically opened the door to your mind by inviting him into his.

Despite the distance he forced Bill to keep from you, he had been in his mind. Combed through his memories his happiest being with Stan in his earlier years, and with you in the present. You never were far from his thoughts and Bill knew his weak spot.

He could pull his own hair from his scalp at his own negligence, scream at the top of his lungs for the danger that he put you in, or cry at the worry he felt after learning of your tumble down the stairs caused by someone he once called his friend. However, he did none of those things.

Once he had tucked you in for a second time, Ford sank into the old chair beside your bed. The springs groan under his weight, the leather cracked and worn from years of use. He stared at you for a long moment, watching your chest rise and fall as you slept peacefully. It made his heart ache. How innocent you looked, under a heap of soft blankets, completely unaware of the danger that lurked just beyond your dreams. A dim lamp casting a light golden glow across the room that seemed like a fragile barrier against the dark shadow Bill Cipher cast on this night.

Ford’s hand shook as he plucked a pen from your desk and opened the journal he had tucked in his coat pocket, the ink bleed slightly as he pressed it to the parchment. He wrote furiously, his mind racing with all sorts of plans, but one thought rang through: I can’t let him take her. Not my daughter.

#stanford pines x reader #stanford pines x daughter!reader #stanford pines x child!reader #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #stanford pines #ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines x daughter #ford pines x daughter!reader #ford pines x child!reader

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kaylopolis · 7 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Fifteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

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Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

The amount of mental gymnastics I did trying to figure out where hands and legs went while trying to write this...

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Fifteen - Heaven's Worst Kept Secret

Content Warning: MINORS DNI!!!!! Mentions of abuse, Smut, Bondage, Obsession, (let me know if I missed any!)

“Fuck!” Velvette landed face-first on the floor, Vox next to her.

The media demon was silent as he picked himself up, his body bruised and broken. He limped over to the couch, his head hanging low as he leaned against the back of it for support.

Velvette went straight for Vox’s new desk and began furiously typing as the computers reloaded. You had triggered a system reset when you sent Vox’s mind buffering, but the Vees had a failsafe set in place after the last time Alastor cut the wires. With cracked fingernails, she pulled up footage of the fight on the numerous monitors Vox had stitched together into one giant screen.

“She used me,” Vox mumbled to himself in disbelief.

Velvette didn’t even dignify his groveling with a response. The brat demon continued to swipe through the footage, desperately searching for a particular frame.

“She used me for him?” Vox was still trying to put the pieces together as if his brain itself was also reloading.

“Oh, shut it!” Velvette snapped. Her nose continued to drip down her face, leaving red dots scattered across the keyboard.

There! Velvette froze the two frames she was looking for and blew them up on the computer. The brat stomped over to Vox, grabbed him by an antennae, and dragged him to the screen.

“Look at this and tell me what you see,” she demanded.

Vox shook his head. “Wait.” He jumped back from her grip, wincing when he stepped on his bad ankle. “Are you making another plan? We lost, Velvette! We fucking lost!”

“No shit, Sherlock, but if you…”

“No ‘but’s, Velv! It’s over! Don’t you get that!?”

Velvette choked, tears in her eyes, “Vox-!”

Vox cupped her face rather harshly, forcing her to look and understand the words that escaped his speakers, “He’s dead. Val is dead and isn’t coming back.”

She shook him off. “And you’re just gonna let him die, are you? Let it all be for fuckin’ nothing!?” Velvette shoved him. Vox fell into the back of the couch, wincing on his bad leg.

“We lost, Velvette! There isn’t anything to do!”

“You’re just saying that because your ex picked her over you. Well, newsflash, you bloody idiot, there’s a reason Alastor turned you down! Because you’re a fuckin’ pussy!”

Vox gave up. The two of them have been fighting since Valentino’s death - Velvette in particular. She had done nothing but push him away, ordering him around as her master plan slowly fell into place. Vox had put up with it because it was rational, wasn’t it? No one processes grief the same, and everyone needs time to process. Vox had chosen to isolate himself, barely getting up off the couch, using Val’s old Fizz bots to bring him snacks and junk food, which he had gorged himself on for days. He spent days in the same suit until Velvette forced him to change by dumping a bucket of water on his head.

Yeah, it wasn’t nice, but she still managed to get him up and moving, and for that, he was grateful. Until his patience ran out, and he found himself snapping back at her. Meeting her anger with his own growing irritation. It was only a matter of time before they were at each other’s throats. It's the reason they split up the party to take down the Radio Demon and the Shadow separately - it was not a strategy at first. The rest of the plan was built from there.

That is probably why they lost. The Vees were always stronger together, but they weren’t “The Vees” anymore. They hadn’t been since you murdered Valentino. Velvette liked to claim that she was the backbone of their trio, but when it came down to it, she wasn’t.

“Fine.” Vox spat, but his words lacked anger. “You want to go after Alastor and that damn Angel, be my guest, but I’m done.”

“Pussy!” She screamed after him as he disappeared behind the door.

Velvette turned back to the screen. Damn, Angel…

The demon tutted, an idea forming in her brain. “I wonder if Heaven knows it’s missing an Angel?” She clacked her broken nails against the screen, a wicked smile forming on her face. She had pulled up a still image of you and a separate one of Lucifer. While you and Vox had your pissing contest regarding your lack of relationship, Velvette was focusing on other matters. Most notably, trying to figure out why Hell’s King was beneath your robe and not you. He hadn’t been seen around Hell since Lilith left him. So why show up now?

Velvette spun as she laughed, “Especially one who looks so much like a Morningstar...”

Oh, but how to tell Heaven?

An idea sprang forth, a memory of an ad she had seen hundreds of times while flipping through her phone. Velvette pulled out her phone and dialed.

There was a musical jingle before someone answered: “Hello, thank you for calling, C.H.E.R.U.B., how may we bless you today?”

____________________________________________

You woke to sunlight beaming through the curtains and soft jazz playing through Alastor’s radio. It was early - morning - you had slept through the late afternoon into the next day. The world smelled of rain as you turned over in Alastor’s silk sheets. They were cool to the touch, which would be nice if you were someone who ran hot - like Alastor - but you were forever cursed to be cold. Instinctively, you reached out, searching for that well of warmth, and jumped when your hand came into contact with nothing but fur.

Alastor lay next to you, his arms folded beneath a pillow, his face propped up next to yours. The demon’s red irises sparkled in the morning light, his gaze wholly fixated on your sleeping form. He lay shirtless on his belly, the red sheets hooked around his waist. His hair was a tangled mess atop his head - a serious case of bedhead that made you smile.

Alastor beamed when he finally realized you were awake. His tail beneath the sheets wagged, tossing the blankets aside to reveal the red and black tuft at the crest of his hips. It was adorable, and it only made you grin wider when you realized Alastor was completely naked in bed with you.

Your gaze drifted across his broad shoulders and down his back to his slim waist. Who knew a back could be sculpted? Who knew men even had hard ridges that moved with their very breath? So many Angels you’ve trained who grew muscles on top of muscles until they were disgustingly large, but not Alastor. He was slim but carried with him a defined tone as if chiseled by Heaven itself - an image worthy of the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling.

God, if only the sheets would fall a little lower.

“Bonjour, mon cœur. Comment as-tu dormi? Good morning, my heart. How did you sleep?” Alastor ran a hand down the side of your cheek, his fingers playing with your wild hair.

Normally, you hated mornings - you were a total grump before that first cup of coffee. Had anyone tried to speak to you in French this early, you’d have turned over and groveled, but today you were beaming. All too eager to please the Overlord, all too excited to impress him with your French as well.

“Commes le morts, Like the dead,” you giggled, hiding your face behind the sheets.

Alastor’s eyes sparked. The demon snaked his arms under the sheets and yanked you by your waist beneath him. The sheets came with you, separating your skin from his - a God-forsaken barrier. His arms framed your face as he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. “Tu parles avec un accent du sud-ouest. You speak with a Southwestern accent.”

“Oui,” you smiled, tilting your chin up. The wisp ends of the demon’s hair tickled your cheeks as you leaned in, but Alastor playfully pulled away, a claw pulling on your lower lip.

“Et où as-tu appris ça? And where did you learn that?” The demon whispered, his eyes wholly on your lips.

The Southwestern accent, associated with the city of Toulouse, is considered to be “sexy.” While some Parisians find it provincial, others think it exotic. That may or may not have been a contributing factor to why you chose that particular accent. As an Angel, you could switch languages at will, but switching accents… Well, now you were just showing off.

“Je... Qu'est-ce que c'est? I… What is that?” Something behind Alastor’s head caught your attention.

On the underbelly of the canopy was a large figure drawn in green. `

“That,” Alastor ran his lips along your cheek and across your jawline, not even bothering to look up, “is the reason why you didn’t burn down my apartment last night.”

Your face heated. Last night… Last night, when you and Alastor… got into it, there was no fire, no static, no magic of any kind destroying the world around you. At the time, you knew it was because of Alastor, but you didn’t know exactly how he did it.

“It’s a vèvè,” you sat up to get a better look, holding the satin sheets from slipping below your breasts.

“Hmm,” Alastor sat behind you, his eyes on your hair as he answered, “Papa Loko’s vèvè.”

“When…” You turn to find Alastor lying on his back, his chest and abs in full view. You’ve seen his muscles before, and although the sight of them still made heat pool in your belly, you were woefully caught off guard by the happy trail of red that started just below his belly button and disappeared beneath the sheets, most likely ending at the base of his -.

Oh, my God. You turned away, forcing your mind to focus on the symbol above.

You could hear Alastor audibly smirk.

A vèvè is a kind of symbol, a cosmogram, a visual representation of the spirits and deities honored in Voodoo. In Haitian Voodoo, Papa Loko is known for his healing powers and association with the wind. His role is that of protector, and his vèvè depicts a snake coiled around a vertical axis. It was a symbol of protection, the source of magic that had allowed the two of you to indulge but not destroy.

You breathed, your body tingling with anticipation, “When did you draw that up there?”

The demon ran a hand through your hair, collecting the silver locks and brushing them over your opposite shoulder. The demon had an unobstructed view of your neck, of the bruises and little nicks in your skin, and, more importantly, of the bite mark. The bite mark Alastor left on your skin, claiming you, marking you as his.

“Before or after the Vees fake kidnapped you?” You asked, trying your best to ignore his hands on you.

Alastor wasn’t listening. His mind was on the teeth marks in your skin, trailing his claw amongst them, replaying each one in his memory.

“Before or after Mardi Gras?”

The demon didn’t answer, pulling away, he organized the pillows so he could rest comfortably against the headboard.

Suddenly, the answer hit you. “Our meeting.”

You gasped when Alastor easily picked you up by your hips and seated you between his legs. The demon pulled you against him. Your back flushed with his chest.

“You thought I was going to return and try to…”

Alastor pressed a kiss to your shoulder, a soft peck. Your mind went blank with the feel of his lips on your skin.

“Yes, mon couer?” You could hear the sideways grin in his voice as his hands fell to your hips. They roamed the skin of your waist, the curve of your silhouette, relishing in the feel of you between his legs.

The way Alastor wiped your mind with just a touch…

“You thought I was a threat,” your head lolled back, resting in the fluff of his chest. “I’m honored.”

Alastor smiled as he kissed you again, slowly working his way to the crook of your neck… The demon smelled of rain, of musk, of vanilla.

“Why am I just now noticing this?” You breathed, your heart rate spiking as Alastor ran his tongue over a particularly sore bruise. He was making it so hard to think.

“Because I allow you,” Alastor’s voice was deep. His words filter across your senses with a smoky edge. The radio static fizzed out, leaving behind nothing but his own natural, raw vocals.

Allow you? Oh… That’s why you couldn’t smell him… Well, not at first, but slowly, you’ve been able to pick up more and more. You wondered if he knows that you can feel his static before he enters a room, if he had conscious control over that?

The demon pressed his lips to the mark at the crook of your neck, to the wound in the shape of his teeth, and licked.

“Oh, Heaven,” you choked.

Alastor’s hands ran up your sides to cup your breasts. You let the sheet fall then, the cold air leaving goosebumps across your skin. Your fingers went straight to his hair, to his ears.

You tugged.

Alastor’s hips bucked as he growled, his dick hardening against your backside perfectly in line with your ass. The demon squeezed your breasts, pinching your nipples between forefinger and thumb.

“Alastor,” you moaned his name, the heat pooling between your legs.

You whine when his hands leave your breasts, The demon bent his legs, his hooves flat on the bed. You gasped when he grabbed your knees and hooked them around his, opening your legs, and baring you to the world.

Alastor nipped at your ear lobe, eliciting his favorite noise, the yelp between your teeth.

Pressing his lips to your ear, he whispers, “Be a good girl and lift up.”

The demon slips his cock from beneath you, slick with precum. You can feel the heat of him between your legs as you settle back down, his shaft nuzzled against your center. Alastor gripped his shaft and slowly stroked. You watched, not only in awe - Jesus, that thing was inside of you !? - but because you wanted to learn.

You’ve been in God’s realm for thousands of years and never had you touched a man. Eve bedded everything and everyone, but you didn’t stay and watch. She’d talk of her sexual conquests, but you never really listened, too busy trying to sort out why others were so interested in sex, let alone why they’d want to partake with a complete stranger.

Here. Now. You wanted to learn because you wanted to make Alastor feel as good as he made you feel. You wanted to feel the demon squirm under your touch, to bring him the satisfaction of completion all on your own.

Alastor released his hold, and his cock sprang back, smacking your clit and making you jump.

The demon laughed as he trailed a line of searing kisses up your neck, his other hand tracing your silhouette. He paused at your breast to squeeze. You tried to rub your knees together, wishing for some sort of friction between your legs, but Alastor held your legs open firmly. You whined when his hand dropped lower, drawing little circles with his fingers across your skin.

It didn’t feel possessive so much as it seemed like he was contemplating clever ways to torture you. He brought his mouth to your neck again and nipped. All the while, his hand drifted lower and lower, finding the inside of your thigh. You tried to scoot lower, to feel his shaft grind against your center, but Alastor’s hand on your thigh stopped you.

“Alastor, this is torture,” you pouted, your hands going behind you to find his hair. You searched for his ears, hoping to find a way to force his hand, but the demon lifted his head back, leaving you just out of reach.

“I made you a promise, mon couer, to spend hours drawing orgasm after orgasm until you beg me to stop, until you’re screaming my name in agony, until your dying for my cock.”

For the love of Christ, this man and his words!

“You want me to beg?” You whined, your fingers gripping his hair.

The demon smiled. With his free hand, Alastor ran two fingers up his shaft, collecting a drop of cum on the pads of his fingers. “Oh, no, darling.” He rubbed the white fluid between his two fingers and thumb. “I want you screaming.”

And then plunged those two fingers inside of you.

You gasped as he sank to the first knuckle, his thumb finding your clit. The demon stroked, his fingers wet with his cum as he circled your center. With each pump of his fingers, Alastor matched it by stroking his cock, chasing his own pleasure as you gasped atop of him.

With the demon at your back, his fingers naturally curled upward, immediately hitting your g-spot with every pump of his hand. The feeling was already too much, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a pace you knew would leave you sore afterward. Alastor wanted you to cum, and he wanted it fast. Instinctively, your hips rolled, eliciting a growl from the demon. He thrusted hard, your breasts bouncing with every stroke of your core.

Jesus Christ, he was finger fucking you with his cum.

The demon dropped his dick, his hand coming to your breast and pinching your nipple - hard. A scream stopped in your throat as you arched off of him, your only leverage, the fingers you had wrapped in his hair. It wasn’t enough; with the force Alastor’s hand was fucking you with, he was going to knock you right off him.

You dropped his locks, forgoing his hair for his antlers. The demon growled as you wrapped your hands around the base of his rack, the bone thicker, sprouting a few extra prongs than normal. Alastor’s strokes turned demanding as you writhed on top of him, your breath coming in shallow bursts, your pulse pounding through every glorious inch of your body.

Fuck, you were close already, and you had just begun.

And then Alastor adds a third finger, and not once but twice, and you’re over the edge, your body shaking as the orgasm rides through your body. His fingers continue to pump, riding you through your high until you slump back down into him.

The demon doesn’t give you a moment to breathe.

Alastor shadows you. Suddenly, you’re on your feet, your chest pressed into the mattress, you’re ass high in the air. The juices from your orgasm trickle down your inner thigh as he hooks an arm around your legs, squeezing them together to create the perfect amount of friction as he seats his cock between your legs. He pumps forward and backward a few times, his head hitting your overly sensitive clit.

It’s too soon after your orgasm. Your body hasn’t had a chance to fully come back down yet. So every stroke of his cock against your center is sensory overload.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Alastor moans. The demon presses down on the back of your neck, his fingers wrapped around your throat, forcing you into the mattress.

“Yes,” you pant, squeezing your thighs harder, driving him against your clit. Jesus, you don’t know if you can do this. You’re nerves are on fire, it’s too much, too overwhelming.

“Cum on my cock,” he commands, his voice labored with his thrusts. You barely register the command, your mind going numb yet overloaded at the same time.

The pressure builds, and your body tenses, but Alastor holds fast to you, keeping up the pace and rhythm. He grows harder by the second, and you can feel every ridge of him against your slickness.

“Cum for me,” Alastor commands again.

“I… I can’t,” you pant.

Suddenly, Alastor wraps his arms under yours. With one hand, he palms your breast, and the other wraps around your throat. He pulls you up, flush against him, and squeezes hard, cutting off your air supply and surely bruising your nipple.

And it's enough. You cry out, orgasming for the second time in a row, muscles and nerves blinking. Your knees buckle beneath you, but Alastor holds you up as wave after wave crashes through you, a guttural groan escaping your lips.

The demon slows his strokes, his cock grinding between your legs with a slick wet sound. God, you had made a mess.

“Good girl,” he kisses your throat before slowly allowing you to collapse onto the bed once more.

You have but a moment to breathe before something slithers around your wrists. You jerk away to find one of Alastor’s tentacles knotting around itself.

Fuck, this isn’t over.

The black tendrils pull you back on your feet, your toes barely scraping the floor. You spin, coming face-to-face with Alastor. The demon has a fire in his eyes akin to that of the look he gets just before he murders someone.

Holy shit, this seriously isn’t over.

Alastor closes the distance between the two of you and presses a soft kiss to your lips. Sweat beads down your forehead and his as the demon strokes his cock, a dark, devious fire burning in his aura. “One more,” Alastor whispers against your mouth.

You groan, but don’t deny him.

Something soft slithers up your leg, you look down to see a tendril winding its way up your calf. You gasp when Alastor cups your chin and forces your gaze up again, forcing you to look into his eyes as the tendril makes its way up your thigh and between your legs. A sharp gasp escapes your throat when it finds your center and flicks your clit.

Oh, God.

“One more,” you moan, your eyelashes heavy, fluttering against your cheeks.

You can do this. One more.

The demon smiles, kissing you softly. He hooks your legs over his elbows as another tendril snakes its way around your middle before slithering north, teasing your nipple, squeezing your breast.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan loudly as Alastor seats the head of his cock at your entrance. He pushes in but an inch and stops.

You pout, ready to open your mouth in protest, but find Alastor’s eyes gleaming. His smile goes sideways, as it normally does when he’s up to something clever.

He wants you to beg.

“Please,” you moan, feeling your walls twitch around nothing, your body feeling empty, the memory of how much he filled you last night playing over and over again in your head. His tendrils continued to flick and pinch, building your need but not giving your body what it truly demanded.

“Please, Alastor,” you begged. You, the almighty Archangel, were begging a Human Sinner to fuck you.

“Please, what?” Alastor purred. The narcissist in him was eating this up, only heightening his sexual arousal.

“Please, fuck me,” you twitch as the tendril flicks your clit. “I need you in me.” You were on the edge of pain with the caress of pleasure at this point.

Alastor leans in close, his dick hard as stone but still barely inside of you, “As you command, mon couer.”

And then he slams into you, his cock fully seated to the hilt, his head brushing the entrance to your cervix. Alastor fucks you so hard your teeth clack together, the squelching of your slickness with every thrust. If it weren’t for the tendrils, he would have launched you.

The build of pleasure is slow this time, your nerves still trying to reload from the last round, but Alastor is relentless. He was going to forcibly pull this orgasm from you if it's the last thing he does. The demon’s claws dig into the fat of your hips, drawing little pebbles of golden liquid to the surface as he pulls you down into him with every thrust.

It’s a mercy that Alastor doesn’t last long. He’s been edging even before you came the second time. He’s been holding himself back, forcing his own orgasm away until he was seated inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” Alastor chokes before he slams into you, unloading into you, filling you with cum.

With a flick of Alastor’s tendril, the growing wetness between your legs, you fall over the edge with him. This orgasm is both pain and pleasure, the sense of free falling but also crash landing as Alastor continues to pump, your walls twitching around every hard ridge of him.

You stay locked together for what feels like forever, sticky, sweaty, and spent. Alastor’s forehead finds yours as he slumps into you, his cock throbbing out the last of his pleasure.

Jesus - fucking - Christ, he wasn’t kidding when he made those promises.

With the help of his magic, Alastor lowers the both of you onto his bed. “Tu seras ma perte, mon couer, You will be my undoing, my heart,” the demon breathes into your hair as he cuddles up to your side. The two of you lay there and breathe, waiting for your minds to return your bodies.

You get it now. All those nights Eve spent chasing sex, all those morning walks of shame, all those people sneaking out in the early hours of the day… If any of them were half as good as Alastor was, it would have been worth it.

You laugh at the thought.

“What is so funny?” Alastor breathes.

“I finally understand the carnal appeal of sex,” you laugh, your body spent. “From a demon, no less…”

Alastor smirks, “You are in Hell, dear.” Sitting up, he quickly kisses your forehead before pushing off the bed and heading to the bathroom. “Not to change the subject, you might want to cover yourself.” The demon helps you into a plush bathroom robe.

“What?” He’s moving too fast for your mind to register the situation.

“Rolf made coffee, and he is all too eager to share it,” Alastor climbs into the bed next to you. “Immediately.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your mind sobers fast as you pull the robe on and cinch it around your waist. You’re barely under the covers before Alastor’s shadow opens the door. With a tray in hand and a big goofy smile on his face, Rolf presents two cups of coffee before you.

It takes you a moment to register that Rolf didn’t just make coffee; he created two concoctions: a jasmine latte and a black chai.

You smile, pretending the room isn’t filled with the scent of sex. Could shadows smell? “You’ve been watching me?”

Rolf smiles, nodding his head like a proud toddler running home from school with his first art project.

Your chest warms, “Thank you.” You reach for the mug and - .

The jasmine latte is in Alastor’s “Oh Deer!” mug - his mug. No one touches Alastor’s mug. You hesitate, unsure of how to tackle this situation, but you don’t have to think long before the demon snatches the cup and thrusts it into your hands.

“Thank you, Rolf. That will be all.” Alastor takes the other cup, bringing it into his lap as the shadow bows and leaves the room.

Holy shit. You were holding Alastor’s cup. Nifty gave you an entire fucking lecture about not touching Alastor’s stuff. Fuck, you didn’t even touch it to move it around to reach other cups in the cabinet. And Alastor just gave it to you.

“It’s going to taste terrible,” Alastor kisses your temple before setting his own on the bedside table.

Wait. Your brain still wasn’t computing. Was he okay with sharing his things with you? This felt like a step, like a relationship step, and you were surprisingly taken off guard by it. Yet, it wasn’t a bad thing. It was a scary thing, sure, but you were excited about it. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face, the absolute beam of joy radiating off of you.

You had earned more privileges with Alastor, something no one else was privy to.

And then you took a sip. “Ugh!” You choked.

The demon laughed, “I told you.”

It tasted like a mouthful of powder, as if Rolf had poured the entire container of jasmine matcha into the cup, with barely any milk to dilute it.

Alastor took the cup from your hand, placing it next to his, before kissing the top of your head. “Come, let us wash.”

____________________________________________

You stood before the bathroom mirror wrapped in nothing but a towel. The glass had fogged over, but you ran a hand through it, revealing just enough to inspect the trail of bruises Alastor had left on your neck. God, and only the left side, too.

Alastor had taken you to the shower this time, allowing you to do nothing but stand there as he washed you. There wasn’t anything sexual about it - thank the Lord. You didn’t have the strength to withstand another round with the demon. His sexual appetite was profound. Instead, he doted on you, scrubbing you with the soap that smelled of him, massaging your scalp, rubbing the knots from your lower tummy.

After that session, you would be sore for days to come. The thought brought a smile to your face.

Alastor wrapped you in a warm cotton towel as you exited. Wrapping another around his waist, he kissed your forehead and headed for the kitchen. The demon sent Rolf on an errand to secure you more clothes - a distraction so Alastor could prepare you a cup of real coffee. He knew you hated waking up without one.

You promised to join him in a moment, but the sight in the mirror held you captive. The bruises… You felt your throat tighten, the anxiety bubbling in your core. Alastor had left bruises on your neck before, yes, but things were different now. These marks meant something different than the usual bruises ringing your neck - not from Alastor, but from Heaven. These… Well… These came from a place of… Well, affection. Not from a place of hate.

You were used to covering up bruises of hate.

Running a finger over your neck, you connected the spots as if they were dots, leading to the bite mark at the crook of your neck. You smiled, remembering how you had earned that one, hoping the mark would never fade.

“Coffee is on the balcony,” Alastor appeared in the mirror, leaning against the doorframe.

His wet hair stuck to his head which made him seem so much younger than he appeared. The demon was technically over a hundred years old but remained youthful-looking as a demon. Perhaps “younger” wasn’t the best adjective. “More innocent” was a better descriptor.

Alastor frowned, sensing the worry building in your chest. God, he could read you like a book - connection or no connection. “What’s wrong?”

You watched the muscles ripple in his abdomen as he stalked towards you, his hands cupping either side of your cheeks. At some point, he had thrown on a pair of lounge pants, a rich man’s sweatpants, that sat low enough on his hips for you to make out the “V” in his pelvis. Curse this man for always looking attractive no matter what he wore. Your mind flashed to Alastor in a nun’s outfit - yup, attractive in fucking EVERYTHING.

Taking a deep breath, you let your anxiety melt away, feeling instantly more calm by his touch alone.

“My neck,” you begin. “I have a history of… trying to hide my injuries. I…” Fuck, words weren’t coming to you. “I’m just not used to… this.” You motioned to your neck, resisting the urge to rub it.

Alastor liked seeing your neck, liked reminiscing about each one. It was weird; it didn’t sit right. Your instincts were screaming at the sight of them.

Understanding clicked in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain, mon couer. Would you prefer if I did not…”

“No!” You interrupt him. “God, no.” You would never deny Alastor wringing an ounce of pleasure from your body. It would be torture for you both. “I just need some time to get used to it. You won’t be mad if I cover them, will you?”

“Hmm,” Alastor collected your hair in his hands, throwing it over your left shoulder. “I never want you doing anything that makes you uncomfortable. That being said, I would like to reserve the right to admire your body…” His meets your gaze. “...with your permission, of course?”

A smile tugged at your lips, “Of course.”

Alastor led you to the balcony, seating you on the side you had always sat in - it was practically reserved for you at this point. Two cups of coffee sat on the table between you, but it was the newspaper your fingers went for first.

“Shadow Unmasked!” The title read. The front page has a picture of you, standing on the roof of V Tower, moments before Velvette delivered a shock. You looked absolutely pissed. You read through the article as fast as you could, trying to garner how much Pentagram City had learned about your identity.

They named you as Thestral

They identified you as an Angel

They called you Vox’s ex-girlfriend (Not his girlfriend!!!)

Alastor’s lover!?

You choked. “Is the piano player sleeping her way through Hell’s topmost Overlords to gain power?” You read. “Witnesses report Ms. Thestral, the piano player at Mimzy’s and Hell’s infamous masked Overlord, ran off with Alastor, the Radio Demon, moments after sharing a kiss on the battlefield. Has the infamous assassin traded in for a more powerful model? Will she sleep her way through the Overlords till she reaches Zestial himself?” You abruptly stood from your chair. “You have got to be kidding me!?”

“Read who the editor is, mon couer.”

“Velvette!” You crushed the newspaper between your fingers and set V Star News to ash with your flame.

“She destroys by reputation,” Alastor once said to you. And he was right.

You collapsed back into the seat, running your hands down your face. Great. Now all of Pentagram City thinks you’re a whore. Better they go after that than going after the whole Angel thing.

Alastor pulled another newspaper from the Void, this one being 666 New’s very own. This title read, “Vees Humiliated in Overlord Fight!” Below that, there was a subtitle, “Shadow Identity Brought to Light.” Huh, that was actually kind of clever. You skimmed through the article, noting the same things V Star News had written but without all the biases.

“Hours after the fight in the Entertainment District, the Radio Demon and the Shadow were spotted duking it out in the Magne District. Sources say they quickly disappeared mid-fight and haven’t been spotted since. Was it a quarrel over power or a fight between lovers? The result and reason for the battle is still unknown.”

Great…

You flipped the page to find a special interview with Mimzy. Of course, they already found her, and of course, she had already offered an exclusive interview. News travels fast in Hell.

Most of it was filled with lies, saying you were close, basically calling you an adopted daughter - absolutely not - her most prized possession. Okay, basically, she was kissing ass to the media to gain more foot traffic to her club. She even gives out the password to Bob’s Barber in the article! Ugh, whatever.

Wait, what does this mean for the Hotel?

Oh God, hopefully, the gang isn’t being stalked by the media…

There’s a smaller section on you in the Opinion column, the topic “Who is the Angel?”

“Oh, my God.” You scoff. “There’s literally people making shit up! One of these guys is theorizing that I’m Lilith - which I look nothing like her - with a makeover. There’s another in here that says I’m actually a gender-swapped Lucifer.”

Okay, that one you get. Some religious texts literally claim the two of you as twins - you did look a lot alike.

“Another is saying I’m a bloodthirsty Exorcist Angel who snuck past Heaven’s gates so I could kill year-round. This one just says I’m actually Charlie, and the news media is just reporting it wrong. I mean, ugh!”

Jesus, these people had some wild theories but now you had an entire City trying to figure out your identity. Fuck!

Great, your to do list was getting longer and longer now.

Find cloak

Apologize to Lulu

Kill Crim

And now

4. Protect your identity

Shit.

You dropped the newspaper, your head in your hands. Getting Alastor back was worth everything you had to go through. So long as Heaven didn’t find out…

Alastor suddenly appeared before you, down on one knee. He collected your hands in his and kissed your palms, “Everything will work out, mon couer.”

Alastor didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by this news… Why was that?

Hesitantly, you ask. “What did you do?”

The demon’s smile went cockeyed. God, you loved that smile.

There was a mischievous gleam in his eye as he said, “Utilizing your army.”

You tried not to let the shock show. “How did you…?”

“The Vees have more enemies than allies at this point. Their bridges have been burned. They have no one to turn to. Their fate has been one of their own making, even before Valentino’s death. Which did not garner sympathy as they expected it to.”

“Rosie, Mimzy, and Carmella would back you no matter what, but you already know that. Zestial has already expressed interest in allying with you...”

“What!?” You gasped, but Alastor continued.

“...although the man is more gossip than fighter nowadays. Then there is the Goetia, although it is unclear how many you have in your pocket, seeing as Stolas is considered the black sheep of his kind. I’m sure your influence has reached far beyond Wrath and Pride: Asmodeus, Levi, Mammon, Belphegor, and perhaps even Satan himself? Allies, I can guarantee, who will not change their mind regardless of your heritage. If anything, they’d be more inclined to ally with you. Well, save for Asmodeus, but he has far more concerning things on his plate at the moment, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

You blinked, trying to process the words coming out of his mouth. How the fuck did he know all this? Wait, how did he know they wouldn’t drop your alliance after this development? Not unless Alastor… Fuck did he meddle in your plans!?

“Your Heaven contacts surely won’t hear of this - especially considering, as far as Heaven is concerned, you disappeared around the same time God did. Rumor has it the two of you are on some sort of top-secret mission only known to the Seraphim and other higher authorities. Besides, Lilith is up there taking care of anything anyway.”

“What…?”

“I haven’t even touched Charlie and the Hotel. Your influence over your niece and her gang of misfits is extraordinary. You made quite the impression, securing emotional ties via my rescue. I couldn’t have planned it better myself. To have little Ms. Morningstar in your back pocket, oh! How I envy you.” Alastor laughed, but it was Radio Demon's laugh that echoed through his radio.

“I assure you, while the two of us were… preoccupied with other matters, your army had already been hard at work cleaning up the damage.”

You let all the information sink in, trying to process how Alastor could have possibly known you were raising an army. I mean, that was step two of your plan with Lilith, wasn’t it? While she played her part in Heaven, you were down here, garnering influence amongst the most powerful.

“Darling, while you were busy running around town and playing house the past few weeks, I made some social calls.”

Alastor was checking up on you while Rolf stalked your every move…

“I know for a fact you didn’t only become Overlord to collect souls - after all, someone like you, with such a well of power in her back pocket, doesn’t require the measly drop of power with which a soul contributes.” Alastor laughed again, his tone turning more cynical. “No, you have all the power you need. You’re garnering souls to feed your army.”

Fuck.

Alastor’s green aura lowly emits from his form, his smile stitched over with green threading, his eyes flashing with black sclera. “The question now is, why does Heaven’s famous Golden Girl require an army?”

You once said dealing with Alastor was like a dance - a dance you both pretended not to be leading but also refused to be the follower in. It was a game of power, you see. Yes, dancing had its steps and rules - a waltz is a waltz, after all - but the direction it was going, the added flare to the spins, the story the choreography told - that was where you battled. Thus, you needed to be a half-step ahead of Alastor at all times - without him knowing, of course - until either the dance ended or you found a way to end him.

Little did you know, he has been hard at work behind the scenes attempting to unravel your little plan. Alastor was one step ahead of you in a way you didn’t see coming.

And he was hitting awfully close to your ultimate endgame plan…

But the fact that Alastor was asking rather than stating meant -.

“Lilith didn’t tell you everything, did she?”

Alastor’s eye twitches, his fingers around yours stiff and unmoving. His tail went ramrod straight, his radio screeching as if a record had been scratched.

Note to self: Tread lightly when it comes to bringing up Lilith.

The demon stood, pretending to wipe dirt off the knees of his pants. “Rolf is here with your clothes.”

Great…

You had thought, after connecting Alastor and Lilith together, that he was her little backup plan in case things went south: a protector for her family. Regardless of the fact that, in your contract, you swore not to hurt them. After all, why return and run straight to the Hotel if not for Charlie’s sake?

But maybe you were wrong…

You stood, cautiously approaching the demon who refused to make eye contact with you. God, you hated seeing him without his smile, hated when that spark fizzled out in his eyes. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your fingers play with the short scruff at the base of his head. Instantly, the stress melted from his shoulders.

His gaze was still on the floor when you said, “And what if I’m perfectly fine in nothing but a bathrobe?”

The demon smirked, his demeanor changing in an instant.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you flush against him. “And if I prefer you in nothing at all?” He whispered against your lips.

“I’d say you’d have to earn it,” you stayed just out of reach of his kiss, teasing the demon in the same way he did you earlier.

“And how exactly would I do that, mon couer?”

You bit your lip, instantly catching Alastor’s eye. God, were you ready for the next round? You’ve barely had time to recover, your lower belly sore from Alastor’s… lack of gentleness… “Perhaps we should start with the smaller stuff before unraveling each other’s master plans?”

Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead before walking the two of you towards his chair. “Where would you like to start?” He brought you into his lap, seating you atop his thighs. You tried hard not to think about the thin layer of clothing separating your center from his cock - which you couldn’t feel at the moment. The demon seated you closer to his knees, most likely on purpose.

“Well, for one, you used my card.” After finally taking out the projectiles Crim had shot at you, you landed on the edge of Cannibal Town. While zapping Vox’s bracelet from your wrist, you felt a pull behind your navel - Alastor had used his blood on your obsidian calling card.

Which meant Alastor had inadvertently entered himself into one of your infamous hidden contracts.

The demon pulled the card from the Void, flashing the white lettering spelling out his real name. “You mean this one?” A drop of scarlet remained crusted at its center.

“Don’t lose that; it comes with conditions,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and continuing to play with the scruff of his hair. “Those who lose my card forget their memories of me.”

“Noted,” he smiled, slipping the card back into the Void and running his hands over your hips. You gasped when his claws scraped across the flesh of your waist. Alastor had dipped beneath the robe…

Goddamn, it was getting too hard to think. The demon gave a look that said he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Next matter of business,” he continued. “Show me.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about.

You hesitated, the bubbles of anxiety in your chest beginning to surface as you remembered last night. Was this smart to do? He was knocked out of the bloodthirsty trance once, would he be again? Would he even need to again?

Then a thought hit you, a lesson you learned in Louisiana: trust means everything to Alastor. So, did you trust him not to try and kill you again? If you didn’t show him, what would that say?

Dipping into that well of power, you broke the seal on the rune, allowing the Book of Knowledge to be unleashed. Alastor was completely captivated by the text flying across your skin, but he remained contained. No ounce of his demonic power slipped out. He remained calm, his irises solid round pupils.

The demon grabbed your hand in his, tracing the words as they floated past. Your heart felt like it was going to thump right out of your chest as you waited for him to say something, anything.

You concentrated the power into the palm of your hand that he held, the ink bleeding into your appendage until your entire arm was black. The liquid seemed to seep out of your skin, shielding your arm in a black tendril. The power flowed over your skin as if it were both solid and liquid, a Newtonian fluid that could cut bone.

Something clicked within the demon’s aura, his awe abating as he closed your fist. You called the magic back into the rune, the aroma of roses dissipating as the Book of Knowledge was once again hidden from the world.

Alastor pressed a kiss to your closed knuckles. “Hmm,” he hummed into your skin.

“Are you okay?” You breathed, still waiting for a reply, something to tell you what he was thinking.

He met your gaze, his eyes still round, irises rimmed in red. “I do not crave it the way I did yesterday. The thought of losing you, of losing my heart,” he cupped your cheek. “Is a greater pain than the allure of power could ever have over me.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch to deepen the feeling. And then suddenly, your own heart grew heavy, a truth you had always wanted to share but never had with another soul. Eve had simply inferred it, but you never really talked about it, never really addressed that aspect of trauma that had haunted your entire existence.

Why you wanted this power in the first place.

“Did your sleuthing uncover other things about Heaven’s Golden Girl?” You braced the subject, hoping Alastor understood the weight of the topic you were about to unleash upon him.

But you could trust him, and he trusted you. Fuck, you had a fail-safe if anything ever went wrong - take your obsidian calling card away from him - but your chest twisted at the thought. You couldn’t help it. You were a General through and through, strategizing was instinct at this point. You never, ever wanted to have a Plan B when it came to Alastor. Which is why you decided to broach this topic with him. Something you’ve never truly spoken of with anyone else.

“Hmm,” he hummed, running his thumb across your cheek. “I know.”

He knows. Of course, he knows. It’s Heaven’s worst-kept secret: God was wildly abusive towards his “favorite” child.

“The day Eve tried to leave Eden, is a day I saw true fear on my father’s face. He smelled of orange and mint. It was… unsettling.” You cleared your throat. “I never really understood why until Eve was brought in and locked away. When she told him she merged herself with the Book - Father wasn’t mad. He was… afraid. He had us lock her up. Hidden away where no one would find her. Fuck, Heaven didn’t have cells. No one ever committed any crimes. If they were the type, they’d have been sent to Hell long before St. Paul let them through the Gates.”

You huffed, continuing, “For weeks after, Father shut himself in his office. He wouldn’t have Sera or me in. After a while things did go back to normal, but he was never the same. I mean, he was violent before, but after… There was this rage in his eyes when he’d…” Your voice breaks. “My father knew hunting down Eve a second time was going to take time, and he was not a patient man, but the longer I took, the worse it got. I’d go back for check-ins, and as one year became two, three, five, ten, fifty… He grew more and more desperate. His desperation manifested as violence, and he took it out on me.”

Alastor rubbed your arms in comfort.

“I didn’t get it until that day in Lilith’s office when I killed Eve and accepted the power for myself. The magic is the rawest form of dark magic I have ever seen - and I spent nearly a century with the Leviathans…”

He planted a kiss on your forehead, infusing you with the will to continue on.

“Father made me do terrible, terrible things: spread disease amongst the pharaohs, wipe out an entire planet of innocent, living beings in a flood, start wars resulting in the deaths of millions of people across the Middle East… I was no Golden Girl. I was the harbinger of death, whether I liked it or not… Regardless of the evils he made me commit, it paled in comparison to the pure evil that is the Book of Knowledge.”

“It took me until the power was in my possession to figure it out. I know why he was so afraid of it. It’s the Yin to his Yang, the dark to his supposed light. The opposite, but equal in every possible way. A power that can kill a god.”

Alastor’s eyes snapped to yours, and instantly, he understood. “You’re raising an army to kill God.”

You smiled wildly, shaking your head. “Oh, no. I am raising an army to end everything, and then afterward, ~I~ will kill God.”

Alastor furrowed his brow.

“You see, Eve merely wanted to taint my Father’s creation. To punish him by ruining his greatest work, but she was thinking too small. I wanted more. I needed more. I didn’t just want to make Heaven’s head spin; I wanted to utterly destroy everything they had worked for." You leaned over him, your nose tickling his. "But - oh, no, I couldn’t simply burn Earth to the ground. Heaven would be upset, sure, but they’d get over it and just make another. No. I needed Heaven to destroy Earth by their own hand. They hate Hell. They hate it so much they’d go to war - if provoked - and when the dust settled, they’d have to face the consequences.”

Father would be utterly destroyed.

And then you’d burn him from the inside out. Fuck, even the thought of it had your blood singing.

“The End. Armageddon. The Apocalypse.” Your hands fisted in his hair. You could feel the demon growing hard beneath you, the excitement of chaos and destruction just as erotically intoxicating for him as it was for you. “Whatever you wish to call it. A war between Heaven and Hell, a war that would destroy Earth.”

“Oh, mon couer,” Alastor’s lips slowly twisted into a wicked grin. He looked at you with eyes screaming possession, screaming pride, screaming hunger. The demon cupped your face in his hands, utterly beaming at you, the highest form of praise he could offer. “You are absolutely beautiful.”

And then he kissed you.

And in that kiss, you realized one terrifying truth. No matter what Hell was coming your way, it wouldn’t be the same without Alastor. You would choose power and chaos with Alastor over everything else because, with him, you didn’t need an army, you didn’t need the Book of Knowledge, you were already unstoppable.

He is yours, and you are his.

The demon quickly undoes the ties of your robe, exposing your bare breasts to the world. Your nipples instantly harden in the cool air. Alastor quickly pulls down his pants, a giant wet mark forming directly below where you sat. God, you were soaked already, high on the ecstasy of power flowing through your veins.

You pray Papa Loko's vèvè had coverage this far away. You hadn't checked to see if you were sparking, but fuck it, you weren't stopping.

Alastor doesn’t even have to bother with foreplay. The two of you could scent each other's arousal, thick in the air. You were ready, and you wanted him - NOW.

You gasp when Alastor shoves inside you, filling you up, his balls sitting snuggly against you.

There was something so satisfying in sitting on Alastor’s cock in the shadow of V Tower.

“Mine,” Alastor growled as he lifted your hips up and slammed into you. “You’re fucking mine.”

And he spends the rest of the day reminding you exactly why…

The amount of smut I read trying to figure out how to write this...

-> Chapter Sixteen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

#alastor smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #hazbin #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader smut #smut #alastor x you #alastor x you smut #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor shadow #x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor fictive #reader insert

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manic-sapphic · 2 months ago

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gonna pretend i'm sorry for this cause tbh- it's just a string of spop gifs where i rant for way too long about the feels i get from each scene~

(-hey - i said sorry, ok ... sure, i openly admitted it was a lie - but i guess i just hoped you'd appreciate the slight effort of the pretense-)

this moment obviously kills me- just like i know it does for alotta you- but i just gotta call attention for a sec to what exactly kills me the most about it: up until this point, we've constantly been shown brief moments of catra's expression betraying her true vulnerable state - even if it's just a close-up of her eyes - during which less than a second passes before the look in them transitions from sad/hurt or disappointment/self-hatred (anything of the sort, really) to anger/ resentment/ rage. her brow usually falls quite quickly as her eyes narrow, refusing to allow her real feelings to continue just being felt - (& tbh, for most the show, i think she's just so fucking afraid of what might happen if she does let herself feel them- esp s4 after the portal)

but in this scene - that's changed. it's completely turned around, flipped upside down - she starts off w her usual habit - a display of resentment and rage - that dissolves into the most heart-breaking freaking expression i think i've ever seen. because you can see just how heart-broken she is- and it kinda seems like she's tryna admit, w/o having to say it- that she was already heart-broken for a really long time, and is tryna make one last attempt at getting adora to understand- not to choose catra- that's not the point, that's not what catra's after, even if it is what she wants and needs to know (for her own peace of mind) if the feeling is mutual-

rn, all catra is desperately tryna get adora to even just think about - is herself. take away every single person she feels responsible for - which is literally everyone.. everyone - a feeling, btw, catra now understands to be an unconscious reflex born of the trauma shadow weaver had caused adora. she's finally able to see it was never just her - adora was just traumatized far more secretively & in ways that would be harder for others to notice (which i'm sure was very much on purpose)

- the weird convos w shadow weaver, disguised as personal pep talks, looked as if they only took place when shadow weaver had adora alone - but in failsafe, catra hangs back to listen & make sure there's no bull shit going on- just like she said she would- "i'm only going to make sure shadow weaver doesn't try anything - it's not because i like you-" (yeah yeah we get it- u DoN't LiKe HeR ~ duuuh, that's cuz u luv her u dummy <3)

oh but now- now i gotta talk about THIS look right here- as if the expression they give catra when/after she asks "what do you want, adora?" isn't enough to see me out in the backyard digging my own goddamn grave- then they throw this shi on my tv screen just seconds later ?! tf. i mean- the way catra's eyes shift up- no longer able to keep looking at adora after the only answer she can give her as to what she wants is "i have to do this, catra - i'm the only one who can" ... FUUUUUUU THO OK

for so many reasons, too many for me to get into in a post i already feel bad about cause dude i ain't near done ranting on scenes and moments annnd i see how long it's already gotten- my bad, fr- so i'll just try (and fail) to narrow it down and keep it brief- catra's questioning what adora wants is definitely aimed most importantly at her hope that maybe she can still get adora to even just think about that- to realize that she's allowed to and should think about it.

but i also read it as, once again, these two knowing each other so well that they don't always have to say exactly, word for word, what they wanna ask or tell each other- the emotional stuff is weird and hard for them to even put into words still, tbh; cause i mean, ya know- orphaned child soldiers discouraged from even showing any signs of illness when sick, cause asking for medical attention would be a real loser move for a kid to make, right.. like, wtf? dude- they can take on so much and handle the gnarliest situations that require strength and skills and abilities i couldn't ever ever fucking fathom facing - but feelings? tf? all i can ever hear them thinking in response to those: "ohhh fckfckfck what is this, why is this & how do i make it stop -???"

so when catra asks adora what she wants, i mostly hear her begging adora to be a little selfish - just this once, at least - and let herself think about herself, but i also hear catra's most vulnerable, desperate, & honest ask of adora so far. what i hear woven in what catra actually says aloud, is another quiet question she's still too scared to put into words, but that i kinda think she hopes/knows adora will hear if she's really listening- "do you want me?"

uggghh and the way that after a moment of an outward, unfiltered display of grief over adora's answer (or more accurately, lack of an answer), catra wipes her eyes and turns away. the switch flipped. back on her bull shit. emotional defense mechanisms she's once again starting to feel are the right idea & always were, and is prob feeling like a fool for ever thinking she might actually get to have a life where she doesn't have to feel them as necessities - where it doesn't feel like that's the only way she'll ever survive.

cause maybe by now, she's seen that some people get to have that - but it's just not the life that was ever meant for her. just like adora was never meant to have a life of her own - at all - period. they're both still so easily fcking convinced of what they've been conditioned to believe about themselves, their lives, and the inevitabilities associated w their existence - (FUCK OFF FOREVER SHADOW WEAVER)

and the quick little moment of adora shown just after catra disappears - possibly gone from her sight forever - the shorter close-up of her reaction before the shot goes waaay back and she cries out for catra - i feel like it def doesn't get enough recognition (prob mostly due to the fact that the clip of adora yelling catra's name comes only seconds later and is portrayed far more dramatically, & in a way that crushes tf outta ur soul, ofc)

but that lil bit there- that brief second of adora's initial reaction- the moment she starts to process that catra just left- that catra's gone, and that this time- adora thinks it's probably for good- her short, shuddering intake of breath followed by what seem like more hurried, forced breaths that kinda appear difficult for her to take- sound like the first seconds of a fcking panic attack to me dude.

and it certainly hurts to watch just as much as when she calls out after catra - although yeah, tbh, that bit stings a lil extra in its own way- i mean, knowing catra had to have heard adora pretty much scream out her name seconds after she disappeared w melog- fuck. (idk how tf catra didn't come right back tbh. i'd be visible again so quick, rushin to adora like "omg bb i'm so sorry- pls don't cry, never ever, ily so much, won't ever hurt u again ok- ilysm omg omfg ily i'm so sorry" & btw, that's a totally normal thing to think when watching that scene ok-)

oh but then - omfg - adora gets a swift slap in the face from the crystal castle - the haunting of a sudden, unexpected vision of catra. all the catra's. catra in so many of the different forms adora's known her through, even if it was as enemies. it reminds me a bit of an excerpt out of the "don't go" fanfic - "catra hasn't been in her life for a long time - but she hadn't known how unbearable it would be to lose her for good until that moment" -

neither of these bitches ever wanted each other gone- catra (very sadly so) def spent most the series tryna convince herself that's how she felt about adora- tho it's just cause her conditioning taught her to think needing someone makes you weak and easy to hurt, and tbh, i think catra knew she needed adora for most their lives, even if she could never admit it to herself in even the form of a full, conscious thought--

but i think she also believed that, after the promise, that need was confirmed to be mutual. and in that way, it was something catra never needed to say but also never felt the need to be ashamed of/embarrassed by- until adora left. and her belief that the feeling of needing each other for support & protection (and let's be honest, care & affection) was mutually shared between them was shattered - & in such a way that i imagine catra musta felt like she was the actual idiot all along - adora had never needed her, and now she needed to figure out how to achieve that same independence - she needed to figure out how to not need adora.

omg tho dude - pretty sure i've said it before but i can't not say it (aka rant on it tho tbh- sorry lol) again and prob every time i ever share anything that features this couple seconds of what i kinda feel to be adora's most honest, selfish, & vulnerable moment we see up to this point- & without her needing to say a fucking thing- just tears that fall from her eyes after catra basically says "uhh yeah ok so- fuck that nonsense- i'm not leaving, idc wtf happens- i'm staying with you"

--(cause yeah, maybe she spent the last few years too prideful and stubborn to admit that was always what she wanted to do and where she loved being the most- and after so little time spent back by adora's side- it was breaking her fucking heart all over, knowing her chance at having time w adora was going away again- but regardless, catra gets now- that part's not up to her; it's never been her choice to make- & not even adora's, really- but deciding to stay w adora no matter where she goes- that's always been up to her- and she's not ever fucking making the mistake of choosing not to stay right beside that silly sweet dummy ever, eeeever again)

BUT duuude tho - the way adora cries a bit but says nothing - doesn't attempt even once to try n convince catra to go, to push her to leave and get somewhere safe - i just can't help but figure catra staying with her is exactly what she wanted, but never would've asked for in a million years. never would've even let herself form the question in her head.

but in spite of that, when catra states it unequivocally and clearly adds w confidence - "no matter what happens" - adora can't argue. she can't insist. much like catra hasn't really been able to do for quite a while now - adora can't fake it anymore. she's just too tired and she finally has to recognize she wants someone to take care of her, too - just like she's felt compelled to do for everyone else for so long. and in that moment, i feel like she's finally wordlessly admitting to catra, not only does she want her to be the one to take care of her - she needs her to be (and always has)

ahhhh but oof-baboof bro - then there's all this.

somehow, catra straight up delves deep into the abyss currently consuming adora & pretty much says - "fuck no. plsss wake up - you can't just die like this, not before you ever get a chance to live your own fcking life, good god dude - i get now why you couldn't before, but please, this time - STAY."

(huh- stay.. another way of saying "don't go"... hmmm :) <3)

these gurls literally got so much love for each other that catra is able to straight up force open an entryway into adora's fading subconscious (which seems to be the only part of her that's still alive) - just by talking to her - barely above a whisper there in the heart, but in adora's mind, she's screaming at her.

the desperate, hopeful sentiments uttered, urging adora to keep going - to push through this and come out the other side alive - to please survive because you deserve to - are just that much stronger when they come from catra- it's that loud to adora when catra is the one saying it- cause she's finally freaking realized, catra's the one she most hopes to hear it from. knowing catra feels that way about her is something she's never really had, and vice versa ofc, even when they were both in the horde. it wasn't the kind of thing they were taught to say or even acknowledge feeling - but hearing catra beg her to just stay alive - and then hearing why catra so desperately hopes for her to - adora's made certain that it really is true -

she does deserve love, and there's someone whose love she's realized she wants- and they're holding her, telling her she has it & always has. and suddenly staying isn't a hope, isn't a plea - it's an inevitability. adora ain't going nowhere--

and, so reminiscent of adora's line to catra near the end of save the cat: "c'mon catra, you've never listened to anyone in your life - are you really going to start now?" we hear catra imploring adora: "you've never given up on anything in your life- not even on me- so don't you dare start now!"

they both know each other so well, they know the best buttons to push that might just work when tryna reach each other, even when one of them is lost to the point of nearly being gone for good - they don't find a door to open - they take a saw to the fucking wall and make one. and pull the other back through. cause everything will be ok if they just stay together. and once they've both finally accepted the truth to that - that's all they wanna do, to the point of refusing to allow each other to die when faced with that possibility. and likewise, refusing to die- just knowing the other is there waiting for them, wanting them, is enough to bring them back -

wanting the life they haven't gotten to share yet, and straight up refusing to let anything take the hope of that future away - even if it means unlocking their true, innate she-ra form (and beginning to understand that they are magic & it was never about the stupid sword) - or if it's wielding some strange, mysterious power w/o prob even knowing they are- like reaching through a metaphysical doorway into the mind of the love of your life and grasping as far and as desperately as you can for their hand, trying- and succeeding- to pull them back from the brink of death.

their story is literally so lovely. & individually, they are truly such honest, raw, complex and thought-provoking characters - presented in a way that offers viewers a fairly rare experience, even these days, of seeing a story written by people willing to honor the honesty everyone deserves to see and may kinda need to see - things aren't always shiny, happy, good times & people aren't perfect- quite literally, no one is- but that doesn't mean there's no point trying. that doesn't mean there's no hope of a happy ending - or that you don't deserve one. it's literally all just part of life, part of living that you'll find yourself faced w figuring out along the way- whether the answers are good or bad. and that's an insane idea to thread into a freaking cartoon dude - wuhhh tf

oh and ps- catradora are canon. (almost wanna end every rant w this reminder lolol) ~~ they cannot be stopped, this shit won't ever be undone lmao. & that makes me wanna say- "hell yes!" and for anyone who it makes wanna say "hell no" - all i got in response to that isssss "more catradora for us then - hell yes x2"

:) <3

#spop #she ra #catradora #spop adora #spop catra #spop rant #spop analysis #spop meta #such gifs #so ramble #much sorry #but also- that's very lie #guilt-shame-regret✅#sorry🚫#gifs AND a rant? i will not be stopped.

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lazyjellyfishcreation · 4 months ago

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SPN time travel au lets go

Supernatural time travel au where the world ends.

Chuck wrote a failsafe into the universe when he realized that Sam and Dean were getting too competent for their won good, so when Jack kills Chuck, the failsafe triggers and whipes everything out.

The only ones left standing are Jack, whom is the new god and therefore a little more powerfull then the rest, and Sam, because of a spell Rowena put on him. Before they both die, Jack tells Sam that they can still safe everyone by going back in time. If Sam can rally hell behind him, and Jack rally's heavens angels, they can together kill chuck. If Jack can transport them to before Chuck made the failsafe, they can make this right.

And thus, Sam dies, and then wakes up roughly 19 years in the past, on the day he's supposed to leave for collage. And he does. He recons that he only has a few weeks at most to rally all of hell behind him and he cannot do that with a 22 year old Dean hanging on his shoulder, trying to protect him. (not to mentions his shitty father whom is also there and holy shit Sam hasn't thought about him for a while, but his day just got from bad to worse)

Anyhow, he wakes up in cold sweat, trows up into the toilet, and tries his very hardest not to get weepy when he sees is 22 brother for the first time again. He's so young. He's practically a baby. His eyes are full of light and he hasn't seen hell yet. Hell, he doesn't even know hell exists yet. He's still innocent and the worst thing he's ever faced is Azazel. Sam would do anything to keep him that way.

So, he leaves. he tells dad about collage, they fight. Sam has to surpress his urge to punch is father out because holy shit the man is being childish, but he manages to get away after his father punches his instead. Dean comes between them and Sam almost laughs. He had forgotten that his father punches like a bitch. He's been tortured by the devil, he died like, 8 times. that was nothing.

he doesn't go to Stanford. Or well, he does, but only to see Jess. She doesn't see him, of course. Azazel told him she was doomed to die the second she laid eyes on him, and he will not let that slide. She's so young, so innocent. Still a child by all accounts. Sam almost feels like a creep. He was almost 40 by now, even though he doesn't look it. He still loves her, he always will, but he can't love her like he used to anymore.

He leaves campus without ever checking in. He was never there to begin with.

After finding and more or less recruiting the rest of the special children, It's surprisingly easy to take over hell.

Hell is a mess.

Crowly is sort of in charge, but not really, Hell has become a lawless land in Chucks relative absence. And well, by manipulating Azazel, and killing a few demons that are not with the program, he quickly establishes himself as king, with the rest of the special children as his generals. At once, they march onto heaven. He gives strict orders to only go for Chuck. Leave the angels be, Only kill god.

And they do. With the angels, demons, Jack and Sam working together, Chuck dies, and Jack takes over.

Sam himself starts revamping hell for it previous purpose: punishing the wicked. Not only that, but punishing them with severity to their crime. Sure, theft is a sin, but you shouldn't get tortured for forever just because you took a TV that wasn't yours, you feel me?

At this point, Azazel realizes that his was a bad idea, Sam is now ultimate ruler of hell and nothing is going as planned. First and formost, he has absoulutely refused to even go near the idea of becoming the vessel for lucifer, and secondly, he's powerfull enough to actually be king of hell without him. there have been several uprisings, but sam has squashed them all down with little effort.

it's starting to become concerning.

before he can do anything about it tho, sam straight up murders him. No drama, no fanciness, Sam just striaght up stabs him in the back "That's for ruining my life you sicko" and he's dead. He doesn't deserve better.

The demons that disagree with sam start to flee at that point. trying to usurp him isn't working, but if they regroup in the mortal world, sam would be too busy ruling hell to come after them.

But no, Sam makes a deal with Crowley, Crowley becomes his official regent and rules with Sam's rules in Sam's absence, and in exchange, Sam gets Crowley's soul, just to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid like take the power for himself or something.

So now that hell is fixed (he did that in like, roughly one earth year, so 12 hell years) he can go above ground, to kill the demons that are escaping to earth and thus terrorizing human mortals.

he quickly makes a name for himself in the hunter ranks. None of them understand how this 19 year old kid is able to kill this many demons in this little time, yet every time someone has a demon problem, it's Sam who shows up, and straight up kills them, which is notoriously difficult.

Some even claim that the demons seem to fear the youngest Winchester. One or two are spreading stories that a demon called Sam 'your majesty' but nobody believes that. And that's without speaking about the other people that seem to occasionally hover around, clearly his friends, but they seem to listen to him, like he is their leader.

All in all, the hunters aren't sure what to make of him.

And then the bunkers start showing up. Safehouses all accross the country, where hunters can relax, restock and heal from injuries. It's crazy. Nobody knows where the bunkers come from, but they seem old.

Meanwhile, John and Dean have no idea what is going on. John is being his antisocial self and none of the hunters have any rush to tell the volatile man that they all think his youngest son (his pride and joy that left them) has gone completely sideways and is now terrifying. They are straight up minding their business and just avoiding them like usual.

Bobby knows. Sam explained it to him, well part of it anyway. About hell, and god and the devil. Bobby didn't take his word for it at first, but when Sam showed him hell, it all became a lot more believable. He begs Bobby not to tell his brother and father. That this is his fight and he doesn't want his brother in this mess. Bobby promises.

I will write a part two with a reunion at some point, if you want me to tag you in it, reply to it!

#sam winchester #dean winchester #spn family #spn #supernatural #fix it fic #time travel #boy king of hell sam winchester #king of hell sam winchester #destiel #eventually #my boy sam winchester needs more love #bamf sam winchester #jack kline #jack kline as god #fuck chuck shurly

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 1 year ago

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Specifically the support team with a tall fem! Reader! (To be detailed like 6'0ft and over 6'0 if in heels)

Just admit you people have mommy issues. I cannot take this ask seriously lord please help me.

Tall Fem!reader with the TF2 Support mercs

Warning: mildly NSFW. why are you doing this to me. I’m a gay cis dude irl

Sniper:

- Fucking short circuits. Think brock levels of simping from pokemon. Maybe not outwardly but on the inside he’s promising you the world. Wishes to be your little step tool. Every time you play rough with him he becomes a submissive little shit. Goes “oowwww :(((“ when he’d otherwise not. Other Mercs are outstanded on how fast you humbled him. Regardless of your relationship with him he’ll ask you if you could be his mother figure because his current mother is.. Well I mean she’s dead. This is entirely non-sexual.

- 50 points if goth girl and 100 points if trans girl. He’s into men and nonbinary folk too but whenever it’s a girl, it’s always mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry.

- Gets oddly soft with you and nobody else. Becomes clingy and desperate for your attention to the extent of protecting you on the battlefield and overall showing off with his shots. Becomes more awkward than he usually would. Stumbles over his words and panics when speaking to you. You find it cute.

————————————————————————-

Medic:

- “Ah! Yes! the new person. Hello little fräulein!” He immediately turned around and waved to greet you the first time… Before slowly realizing your head was higher than his shoulders and trailed his eyes upward. Meeting your gaze with awkward silence. He had bent down suspecting an innocent, small and adorable woman and so had to immediately stand up and straighten his posture. A majority of girls from his village were abhorrently short.

- “Ah… I see…” He turns away and fixes his glasses. Going back to whatever the hell math he was jotting on his chalkboard. You could vaguely make out it was some sort of failsafe for in case the medigun failed to deploy charge. You were more intrigued over the fact you were taller than this man. You leaned over his head to check your height— Which made him nervous of course.

- “Must you be so nosey? Hah! Relax. It’s not a shrink ray or anything!” He joked. You didn’t know if you should be offended by that or that or not. “Of course, mind you, I do know how to make that. But I don’t have the time nor resources sadly. Then again, everybody must be shrunken to you.” Medic then proceeds to suppress his mild attraction to you; instead opting to tear you to shreds with his sick roasts about your height. Wow, somebody’s insecure.

——————————————————————-

Spy:

- BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!!! Heterosexual beams primed. Neurons activated. Eyes bulge out of head awooga awooooga

- ONE single glance of you is all it takes and his seduction skills become second nature. The next day you find roses on the end table next to your bed. With a letter, written in flawless english incursive about meeting you on the roof of the base after sunset. The letter even had hints of his sweet smelling cologne on it. Talk about overkill.

- Well you see him there and he’s there, leaning against the railing with his suit unbuttoned. His tie hanging loose on his neck and treating himself to a glass of wine. “Ah, pardon me mademoiselle, I’m afraid the deserts of this country are a bit.. Harsh on me sometimes.” You have never seen such a cheesy display in your entire life. There’s even a picnic table there with candles and dinner. You almost wanted to dropkick him because of how disgustingly sweet this was. Yuck.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #medic x reader #spy x reader #sniper x reader

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violent138 · 10 months ago

Text

As Tim is arguably the top contender for the Robin with the most insane activities, it makes complete sense that the universe built in the most failsafes to take him down: I HC that he gets sick a lot on account of his spleen and sleep habits, he's motion sick, has multiple allergies which is why many Titans from his era still carry an epi pen around, he's an enemy magnet, he's got broken bones that were never the same, and mental health that's hanging on by a thread.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

#Tim Drake #Mix of canon and my head #Batman #Dc comics #Red Robin

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iwontusethis255 · 1 month ago

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WADDLE HAT FANS I SUMMON THEE, FOR THIS IS...

THE KIRBY AU EVER (stylized as "the kirby au ever.")

CHARACTERS

Kirder (they/them): fanon “kills gods for cake” kirby, no personality, essencially a weapon of mass destruction used by The Queen for whatever endangers the place

Met Nit (he/him): literally the exact same personality but is shittily drawn in ms paint, the text changes for what's funny, but it is physical

Queen Thethethe (The Queen for short, rhymes with Dedede) (she/her): essencially a sassier Dedede in drag, dress changes between shots

Waddle Hat (Wadhat for short, Waddle Dee with a hat for long) (she/her): literally the most milquetoast, basic, average gal, lowest ranking of these 4, as Met Nit is The Queen's left hand, and Kirder is the afformentioned weapon, so she's rarely needed

Mark (he/him): extremely serious. Still in a jester fit for inexplicable reasons, whats his deal

Magolor 2 (he/she): grey and has a red 2 on them, otherwise normal, if not stupid and easy to fool (created by @xmagicalpotatox)

Sussy (she/her): weird holographic angler fish thing attempting to lure people to the shadows. how wacky! what a jokester she is!

The Ranza (she/her): genderbent. Looks identical. more studious and somewhat of an inventor, marital status unknown

Fecto Sapphilis (she/they): once contained being, didn’t revert to “elfilin” as there isnt one, now just hangs around, in lesbians with wadhat

Mropho (they/he): 2010s tumblr sexyman twinkified god (/neg) and probably not much else

Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura (Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura): the main villain.(..?) The Lone Evergreen. WAY too serious for the circumstances, you must refer to Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura only by Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura's name

Rope MF (he/him): An anomaly. really likes ropes. wait... what was I talking about...? (created by @mint-termsandconditions)

Wow! what funny wacky joke characters!

...

What if I gave them serious lore.

LORE

in the ancient past, flora and plantlife grew throughout the world... until Haltmann Co. arrived. with their machinery and aided by a mythical figure named Opho, they had successfully eliminated any and all plant life on the planet, but somehow managed to fail and die off. and in their rubble, on the fiery wings of a butterfly, a single sapling grew from the ash. meanwhile, a lone computer program was left standing, 5U557.exe. this was a failsafe meant to assist the empire should something go wrong, so Sussy began to rebuild an already doomed and deceased populous.

in more recent times, the brilliant scientist The Ranza and her assistant Mark have successfully created The Dimensional Mirror. this device allowed anyone to travel between dimensions. The Ranza allowed her lovely wife to test it out first, with Mark to go with and assist with return. but unfortunately, the woman was lost, and Mark had seen things he was never meant to, and gone mad. The Ranza used the mirror daily to search for her lost love, eventually discovering that intense dimensional travel made the very fabric of reality shake and shutter, so she sadly gave up on finding her love. meanwhile, Mark had adorned himself in jester attire and decided to rule the world to "PROTECT IT FROM THE FLAMES." as he put it. Kirder was easily able to defeat him, and he seems to be back to normal.

more recent now, a gal by the name of Magolor 2 was strolling through the worlds wonderous mushroom forests when she noticed something... the ground was covered with strange flat green oval things... weird... she turned around to try and sell the new find, but tall brown spikes suddenly covered her exit. only one way now. a voice beckoned to her. to follow. to LISTEN. and soon, she came face to face with a life form she could not comprehend. Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura spoke with her, saying that if she helped the tree gain control of this world, she would surely be rewarded. Magolor 2 accepted the offer and was soon overtaken by odd green snake like things puppeting her every motion, and with their powers combined, they attempted to sieze the world. Kirder stopped them immediately, but Magolor 2 continued to serve Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura, now a known threat to The Queen.

This is where Waddle Hat comes in. she had recently passed her Waddle Guard trials with mediocre colors, but since she was the only one who showed up to work past day one, she quickly rose the ranks. until she found a new member of the group. a quaint little fellow, said his name was Rope MF, then proceeded to talk Wadhat's nonexistant ears off with rope trivia. the two have been best friends ever since. one day on a patrol sent by the queen to investigate a weird thing underground, the two found a large crystal with a large being place inside, dormant. Rope MF accidently broke the crystal, and the impossing figure stared down at the two with a glare in their eye. then introduced herself as Fecto Sapphilis.

Days became weeks became months as the 3 became more and more tightly knit, with Wadhat and Sapphilis eventually starting to date. Rope MF is not a good wingman, by the way. regardless, the three frie

Days became weeks became months as the 3 2 became more and more tightly knit, with Wadhat and Sapphilis eventually starting to date. R̸̛̝͐̊̽̆͗̋̃̔̈͛̔͝ơ̴̧̢͔̞̯̥̬̖̱̣̙̖͕̲̠̊̌̏̈̈́̌̚̚͘͠p̸̡̛͚̻̺̥̘̟̀͑͋́́̔͒͝͝e̴̛̥͇̗̩̊̓̑̋͌͂͆̈́́̈́́̐͝͝ ̵̡͈̝̝͕̱͓͙̩̞͕̍͑̿͜M̶̙͖͙̬͎̣̮͒͆̾̊͝F̷̛̘͈̤̯̳̭͚̜̮̭͕̬̑͗̈́̐́̆͗͘ͅ is not a good wingman, by the way. regardless, the three two friends were ready and raring to take on anything the world held for them.

wait... what was that...? why couldn't you... remember... Oh! Rope MF! How's my bestie doing?

Anyway, the 3(?̵͖̮͉͇͂̈͘) once were tasked with finding a way to stop Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura for good, the tree was growing in power by the day. so they headed over to the place, wadhat insisting they may be able to just talk it out. They were met with Magolor 2 standing guard, who proceeded to accidently explain Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura's entire motivation of being the last remaining plantlife. oh. oops. well at least they don't know that Sussy knows more info about this- ah shit there they go. So they went to visit Sussy. Sussy had wallowed in loneliness for centuries by this point, and had made no progress in rebuilding Haltmann Co. She explained that before they had arrived, the land was lush with greenery, and that they were the reason for Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura's rise. before they left, she asked them a favor, and thankfully, she never booted back up.

Armed with this knowledge, the crew went to local royal scientist duo The Ranza and Mark. in the middle of their discussion, Rope MF disappeared. The Ranza and Mark noticed, and noticed that Waddle Hat weirdly didn't remember Rope MF at all, when asking Sapphilis about this behaviour, she explained that sometimes Rope MF just disappears in thin air, and when he's not there, not Waddle Hat or anyone else can recall of his existance until hes back again. The Ranza ran some tests with the dimensional mirror, and sure enough confirmed, Rope MF was hopping between universes, seemingly at random, between this universe, and what seemed to be his home world, with things drastically different. as they spoke, Rope MF reappeared and asked if they wanted rope info. they did not. Waddle Hat, in fact, was devistated. Her friend had been escaping her memory without her even realizing? What kind of bestie does that make her?? What is Rope MF never comes back and she can never remember her best friend ever again??? what was that thing in her hand...? oh. Rope MF gave her a rope to help her calm down. ...she hugged Rope MF with tears in her eyes, begging him to not leave, she doesnt wanna risk losing him forever. ...wait. what was she crying about again....?

After a look of pity from everyone else in the room, Mark explained there was more to all of this than the group had thought. In Rope MFs excessive dimension hopping, he had not only weakened the structural integrity of this dimention, but also caught the attention of a certain figure. Mropho. the name sent chills down Sapphilis's spine. he explained that they held life and death in their hands, they caused his descent, and turned him into... a ghost. turns out, he didnt get out of Kirder's attack unharmed, and his yellow and red eyes were like a cattle brand of the figures existence. all of a sudden, a horrific roar had echoed through the sky. Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura was launching a full on siege of the castle! they all ran outside to see the giant monster tree wrecking havoc on the palace effortlessly, nothing was able to take Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura down, Kirder had fallen. Mark yelled to the 3, exclaiming that if they trust him, jump into Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura's mouth, that's how they will manage to get to Mropho. after a moment of hesitation, the 3 held hand and jumped in.

The new space, somewhere between life and death, was black and twisting, like a wretched oil, with bright singular flames flickering and licking at existence around them, aloft in the air. A tall figure sat on a throne, and introduced themselves as Mropho, though, they prefer the name Mr. Opho. they revealed everything, they were the one to exterminate plantlife, to let Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura rise in power, to leave Mark a ghost, Magolor 2 fooled, The Ranza widowed, Sussy alone, and Sapphilis trapped, for figuring out their existance. He speaks.

"you know, life is not a tree. life is a fire. one that can burn bright and consume, or one that can burn out with naught but a whimper. but that is all. a fire can either be alive or dead. yet you…" he gestures to rope mf "you are different. every single flame in this space represents the life of someone, in your joke of a universe. as example." they bring forth a fire that shows Yggdrasil, Crown of Natura within its embers. and crush it in his hand. "gone. with but a motion of my hand. your flame is within here as well, but it doesnt dissipate. it simply disappears and reappears later. as the being controlling these flames, you can imagine how much that would infuriate me. but then i thought. if i, a being so close to godliness that i control the concept of life itself, cannot get my hands on you, then you must be even stronger. the only TRULY free being in existence. what changes have you made? what have you done with your power? have you kept me in charge from sloth? intrigue? listen to me. you are a powerful, POWERFUL being. and you sit next to a false god and a simple npc girl? when you can have me at your every beck and call? perhaps control over more than just life and death? time and space itself??" rope mf doesnt answer. mr opho glares at them all. "well then. i suggest you leave, your highness. before i do this." large fiery butterfly wings sprout from his back and flap forward, extinguishing every fire in the room, but 3. wadhat, sapphilis, and rope mf stand alone in their fight. alone as they ever did. opho speaks again. "hm. you defy me. let's make this fight one that the souls will be cheering on for an epoch." he summons a flaming sword and dashes at them.

as they fight against the god, Rope MF defends Waddle Hat from every blow, and she does the same. Sapphilis sees this pieces together something, and pulls Wadhat aside. Rope MF only comes to this universe for Waddle Hat, his best friend. If Rope MF isn't here, Mr. Opho can't use him to gain even more power. but for Rope MF not to be here... Sapphilis and Waddle Hat give a loving, determined, tear filled nod to each other, and call Rope MF over, telling him to take Waddle Hat back to his home. with help from Sapphilis, the two managed to pass through a portal to Rope MFs world. Mr. Opho furiously chases after them, reaching for the supposed god he both obsessed over and despised. but the realm had taken too much damage, cutting the connection and shattering mr opho across the multiverse.

Sapphilis sat alone, in her true form, not burdened with the colors of that beast, and with all her powers returned, if not weakened. she wondered and she wandered. what was she to do...? should she attempt to rebuild the world and rule over it better than he did? no. she learned from Sussy that was but a path to misery. she remembered she had her own dimensional properties before Mropho imprisoned her way back when... so she trained.

Days became weeks became months became years as Sapphilis honed her abilities.

Eventually, the universe ran empty.

...

TEE HEE I LOVE MAKING SERIOUS LORE FOR JOKE OCS!!!!!!!

sry for the later release, i meant to post this on my birthday (jan 11) but i was busy with, yknow, my birthday (jan 11), but 38 minutes late aint bad right?

#THE KIRBY AU EVER (stylized as “the kirby au ever.”)#wadhat #waddle hat #waddle dee with a hat #rope mf #kirby oc #kirby au #mr opho #fecto sapphilis #kirder kirbyauever #met nit kirbyauever #the queen kirbyauever #mark kirbyauever #magolor 2 #sussy kirbyauever #the ranza kirbyauever #yggdrasil crown of natura

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