#I like writing for Charlie

[simplynims]

Thinking about Charlie with Casper who has more rugged hands due to their mysterious job. Their hands are much bigger and texture wise more leathery than soft. Faint scars of daily life litter their hands all the way up to their wrists. Charlie has grown tough skin too, earned from his past but nothing quite close to how Caspers hands are like.

I like to imagine Charlie is definitely touch starved but craves the more simple aspects of it. Like resting his head on Caspers shoulder, legs touching one another while they sit and watch TV, simply wrapping an arm under theirs as they weave through a crowd together. But one of his personal favorites is to just hold Caspers hand. Laying side by side as they drift to sleep, Charlie gently takes hold of one of Cas's hands and enjoys the smaller details of it. How their jagged hand feels against his fingers, memorizing absent mindedly the lines on their skin, and using his thumb to gently graze over Casper's palm.

It's comforting, it's warm, and most importantly? It feels like home.

[greykolla-art]

I was rereading Skulduggery Pleasant and realised it was a goldmine for cute Alastor & Charlie moments.👌

I’m gonna project genuine friendship onto these fuckers and you can’t stop me!

[metamatronic]

Firstly, I love your au! Your art is amazing, and the premise lives rent-free in my head

Question: When after the fazbear frights fire when Mike added Will to the list of ghost-robot roommates, how did Liz and CC react to seeing their dad after three decades?

I assume probably tear-fueled reunion mixed with a lot of questions

Like, I assume Will figured out what happened to Liz from context clues (ghosts possess robots=Liz is circus baby), but Liz definitely didn't know what happened to Will (esp bc not even Mike knew about him being springtrap in your au) so she would probably be surprised to see her dad back as a robot bunny with a corpse in it

Well, This Is Awkward (pt. 1) {next}

It’s funny—As much as Michael complains that Lizzie was spoiled rotten as a kid, he’s a pretty bad enabler. Of course, he’s not above letting her dig herself into a hole, especially in front of their father.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

[alxandergoth]

dot dot dot..

TRANSCRIPT:

Charlie: So… was the mask part of your plan? Flirt with me from across the room, make me curious, and then—bam—big reveal?

Eli: Maybe. Worked, didn’t it?

Charlie: You think you’re smooth, don’t you?

Eli: I don’t think, I know.

Charlie: That’s a lot of confidence for someone who’s spent the last hour hiding behind a mask.

Eli: Maybe I just like making you work for it.

Charlie: Oh, you think I’m working for it?

Eli: I know you are. And you like it.

Charlie: What if I want to make you work for it?

Eli: Oh, I’m up for the challenge.

Charlie: You always did like a challenge.

Eli: Especially when it’s you.

Charlie: So what happens now?

Eli: I think you already know.

[motherismotheringggg]

he’s such a nervous little loser (complimentary), daddy i love him so much 🩵

[chrliekclly]

[saystrinity]

thinkin abt charlie’s japan trip and the whole time difference thing (17 hours between la and japan what!!!!!) sooo here’s a little fic abt it

contains: use of y/n, kinda fem!reader (reference to being a wife), oops! (almost) all dialogue

✶⋆. charlie slimecicle: can i call you tonight? ⋆꙳

even for the earliest hours of the morning, inching towards sunrise, la traffic never fails to be incessant. a clashing chorus of revving engines and the occassional blaring horn stream into your bedroom from the open window, which is doing nothing but welcoming in even more of the suffocating humidity from outside.

you’re starfished on your bed, an overheating mess atop your bundle of sheets. the line only trills twice before charlie’s picking up.

“hello?” “charlie, why are you on your phone?” “..because you called me.”

“my fan died. it’s hot.” “well, i’m a couple thousand miles away. can’t fix it.”

“selfish. ..i can’t sleep.”

“because of the fan?” “uh, yeah. talk at me.”

“saying i’ll bore you to sleep?” “saying you’re my entertainment for the night. talk, talking monkey, talk!”

“what do you want to hear, ringmaster?” “tell me about japan. are you having a good time?”

“yeah, yeah, it’s really fun. tom, schlatt and trevor are really enjoying themselves.” “good, good.. when are you home?”

“aw, missing your monkey?” “the circus just isn’t the same without you.”

“five day trip, got here monday, so.. three days.” “i feel like a forlorn housewife, awaiting my husband’s return from this terrible war.”

“the terrible war of.. a boy’s trip?” “mhm.”

“you wish you were my wife.” “shut up, monkey. go enjoy yourself now.”

“bored you enough?” “positively yawning. thanks.”

“alright. goodnight, y/n.” ”night, char.. love you.” ”love you more, angel.”

you let the words sit comfortably on the line for a few more blissful seconds before hanging up.

now, even with the seemingly endless roving sound of la’s burgeoning morning, charlie’s soft words were enough to soothe your sleepless soul, and you’re drifting off within minutes, internally scratching off the days left until his return.

[the-ace-with-spades]

(I adore fics where Johnny’s family loves Ghost from day one, but, you know…angst)

Soap and Ghost had been together for almost two years. They never name the relationship, really, but it's serious and they both know it.

Thing is, Johnny's seen Ghost's face a total of four times, counting Las Almas.

Well, he sees parts of it regularly, more than others. Ghost will either roll the balaclava up when they're reading together in bed or when they're eating. Sometimes, when Soap wants to go out and Ghost indulges him, he goes in public in just either a face mask or a gaiter and Soap can see his short wavy blonde hair sticking all over the place and 

The four times he had seen Simon’s face in it’s whole — obviously, Las Almas; one time when he was unconscious and bleeding from a head wound and Johnny had to check; one time when they took a shower together, Simon stayed with his back toward him through most of it, but when they finished, he let Johnny dry off his hair; one time, when Johnny asked him to see him for his birthday presents, a few minutes after midnight.

Johnny wasn’t sure why exactly Simon didn’t want to show him his face. It wasn’t a trust thing — he trusted Johnny with more than his own life — and it wasn’t like he was ugly — he was downright sinful. He never drilled the topic because he didn’t care, if SImon wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready, but if he had to guess, it was all to do with identity and being seen. No one knew his face — people could know his name, Simon “Ghost” Riley, but they wouldn’t know the man behind the mask. Wouldn’t know the people behind Simon “Ghost” Riley.

(Johnny wasn’t completely off on the assumption — Simon didn’t want anyone to know his face because faceless people weren’t missed. Faceless graves — like his own — didn’t have people to leave behind, and faceless soldiers didn’t have loved ones to find and he was both. No one could get hurt if he remained faceless. Or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself.)

And Johnny is okay with that — if Simon never showe him his face again, he’d still love him all the same. Johnny’s family? Not so much.

They’re supposed to be in Glasgow for five days total, leaving after Boxing Day. Johnny gives them all a warning, that Ghost is a bit shy and doesn’t like showing his face, he’ll most likely stay covered the whole time, he might be wearing a balaclava, or a mask, he probably won't eat at the table.

When they arrive at his parents house, it almost seems like everyone forgot. Like everyone thought it'd be more mild or that Johnny was exaggerating.

There are looks. There is silence. People can't stop staring.

His mam takes one look at Simon’s balaclava once they enter the living room and looks funny at them. “Ah thooght Ah tauld ye boays tae strip doon.”

“Mam, lea him alane,” he tries but he can tell that Simon is getting tense and his mam is getting tense.

His mam, who is usually the sweetest person ever, is uncharacteristically quiet and curt whenever Simon is around. Simon doesn't really know how to make it better — Johnny's never seen him so silent outside of stealth missions, he just stands there like a sore thumb, not making anything less awkward. He didn't expect him to — Simon's social skills are lacking and he loves him that way — but he expected his own family to not make such a big deal out of that mask.

His da is stern and silent, which is as disapproving as he gets. His sisters are a bit weirded out, but mostly focused on teasing Johnny, even making fun of the mask. With a stupid grin, his older sister asks, “Does he keep it oan in bed?”

Johnny doesn't say anything to that, even though his face feels red. His sisters stop laughing.

“He does?” When Johnny tries to step out of the room and avoid the conversation, his sister’s tone changes. “Hae ye e’en seen his face?”

“O’ coorse Ah hae,” he spits out. He doesn’t specify it was only four times — he doesn’t think it’d help. “And ‘s a bonnie ane, alricht.”

It doesn’t save the situation and his sisters are also weirded out and wary from then on.

 The kids do not care — they ask maybe two questions, tilts their head as Simon explains and that’s it — and Johnny breathes a little easier as soon as his nieces push Simon outside to help them build a snowman.

The judgment doesn’t stop. Johnny’s blood boils any time it shows and even though Simon says it’s all fine, he can’t stop feeling angry about this. They just can’t get past the mask.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are difficult to Simon and Johnny knows it. He’s given him the option to omit the family dinner on both those days if he’s not feeling alright enough to spend those days in crowdy house filled with a flock of loud and cheery people of all ages.

Simon knows this. He also knows that if he says he wants to stay at Johnny’s flat for the time being, Johnny is going to insist he doesn’t have to go either, that he’d prefer to stay in with him and not go for the Christmas dinner. Which he also knows is bullshit — Johnny loves Christmas, loves spenidng time with his family, that was basically why he kept on insisting Simon couldn’t stay alone at the base for Christmas another year in a row. It was the main reason why he agreed to go with Johnny in the first place, he was pretty sure if he didn’t go with him, Johnny would insist he stays, too. 

So Simon stays in for Christmas Eve — or rather goes to a pub while Soap spends the day with his parents — but insists they go to Christmas dinner. 

His family is disappointed to see him there, to the point the usual manuevering around politeness and disapproving go onto a backburner.

“John said yer nae a fan o’ Christmas,” Johnny’s mum says to him pointedly.

“That’s right.”

“And yet ye’r ’ere,” she notes.

Johnny is far away from the earshot and he doesn’t want to lie to her so he admits, “If I didn’t come, Johnny would insist on keepin’ me company.”

“How come ye dinnae try to hae a bit mair cheer fur th' holidays then? Put a bit mair effort in for ma baby.” 

Johnny notices and soon enough, he’s next to him, their arms brushing, Johnny’s hand on the small of his back. “Lea him alane, mam.”

“It’s fine,” he says even though it’s not fine. They deserve an explanation, even just to know what they son is getting himself into. “My family was murdered on Christmas Eve. I’m—I’m trying.”

The silence falls over the room — Johnny’s mum, dad, his sister, all present, not looking at them. Simon closes his eyes, tries to breathe.

Johnny rubs his back. “Let’s gae home.”

“I’m not ruining Christmas for you, Johnny,” he says. Before Johnny can deny it — and he knows he’d try — he tries to placate, “Let’s just have ourselves a minute to calm down.”

Maybe it’s the way his voice is perfectly levelled or the way his hand trembles as he squeezes Johnny’s, but he lets him leave the room.

He steps outside — to the backyard. Sits down on the step to the garden and lets the snow soak through his jeans and the top o his balaclava.

The kids come outside, tripping over Simon’s legs. They were all oblivious to the trails and errors of Simon’s integration into the family, so they approach him as always

“Whit's wrang?”

There’s just something so innocent in having a six-year-old girl covered from head to toe in pink and glitter worry about you. Simon would never admit it in front of Johnny, but he finds the accent cute.

Simon takes off the mask.

The kids all look at him and look at him, a bit unsure maybe a bit fearful — it can be a scary sight, he admits, the elongated, jagged smile that sticks to him no matter the mood, makes him more crazy than he already is — but only one of Johnny’s niece keeps her eyes on Simon’s face. 

Shily, she asks, “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he replies. When she smiles, he smiles back.

Not anymore.

This is Johnny’s family. Simon can deny it all he wants, but Johnny’s seen him as family, as someone he’d leave behind, and it hadn’t been unrequited. He can’t hide behind a mask forever and maybe this was the kick he needed.

He steps back inside when his hands turn numb. He doesn’t put the mask back on.

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Simon?”

Simon just—smiles. He can feel the scars pulling on the corners of his mouth, the stiffer skin, but he’s not faceless. He’s not been faceless for a while.

Edit (29/03/24): This is now a WIP for a minimum 15k fic, titled don't shoot me, santa, that will have 4 chapters and will be posted (hopefully) later in the year

[cirnogaming]

artemis is one of the best characters ever created i think. she likes to feel like a cobb salad when shes having sex. she serves cunt at all hours of the day. shes bisexual. shes jewish. she's always serving a look. she is constantly on psychedelic drugs. she fucks nasty in the dumpster behind wendy's. shes perfect

[prince-liest]

Some thoughts on Lucifer's mental health, relationships, and role as king of hell!

Lucifer’s perception of himself as the king of hell is really interesting to me because he’s very blase about it in canon while totally using it when it suits him.

I think it’s really telling that the first time he actually brings it up himself is when it’s something he can leverage to help Charlie out. He reads to me like someone who objectively knows that he’s the hottest shit in town, but also just doesn’t really think that it matters most of the time because it's not relevant to his personal problems. Being Lucifer Morningstar did not allow him to achieve his goals in petitioning heaven. Being the most powerful person in hell didn’t even un-fuck his family life!

...Except for when suddenly it might in fact help un-fuck his relationship with his daughter.

It's the main thing he can desperately and dramatically showcase as a worthwhile reason for Charlie to maintain a relationship with him, because he as a person is depressed, half-functional, and barely has enough spoons to pay attention to a conversation he's having with her while he's actively having it, nevermind remembering their last one.

He wants to! And it doesn't start with his song at the hotel! It starts with him answering the phone, heavily fumbling actually connecting with Charlie despite clearly desperately wanting to, and then realizing she's asking him for something and promptly choking on his tea before excitedly telling her, "Yeah! Of course! Anything within my power is yours for the asking, you just name it." He knows that there is a great deal 'within his power,' and he's happy and relieved that he can offer her that!

Lilith has been gone for years but he's still wearing his wedding ring. His walls are still covered in family portraits. He's just been sitting in his room making thousands of rubber ducks he thinks suck instead of ruling hell, because his daughter liked that one duck he made one time.

Charlie needed him to support her in her mission, but damn did Lucifer also need Charlie to get him out and moving and actually doing things again.

Anyway, someone get this man on an SSRI.

[macdenlover]

we don’t acknowledge enough how dee used to be a pageant winner when she was a kid and how much damage it did to her. she worked her ass off and got recognition for being pretty and talented at a young age and it was the only source of self esteem she could garner in a family that constantly berated and talked down to her. she sought after that external approval because it was the only way she could prove everyone around her wrong. her dream of being a performer didn’t come from a self-aggrandizing delusion— she genuinely showed a lot of potential when she was younger. but she went through an unflattering puberty and her spinal condition got worse and that natural talent she had as a kid plateaued way too early. the “former gifted kid” dilemma. she slowly lost the thing that promised her that she was good, but she was so desperate to keep holding onto it that she tried anyway. again and again and again no matter how much people made fun of her because it was always about proving them wrong. but after a while she couldn’t jump anymore without anticipating the way it feels when she hits the ground face first. self-sabotage became her way out, choosing to rather live in the fantasy of her own unrealized potential and blaming those around her for her lack of success, than having tried and crashed again. she’d rather buy lottery tickets over and over and never scratch off the numbers than to see that she lost. that self-sabotaging behavior bled into other aspects of her life too, from friendships to relationships to therapy. her own short lived success is what made her grow into embodying the cycle of failure.

[perksofbeingpoet]

pittsie rolls out the dough so precisely that you could think he was about to get out measuring tape, protesting loudly when knox steals some of it and eats it just like that. charlie laughs and nudges pittsie in the side- chill out, bro- before messily cutting out stars with the cookie cutters. cameron chides him for making them look all wonky, and neil laughs, yeah charlie, try again. todd smiles up at him. his stars are shaped perfectly, and neil presses a kiss to the top of his head as todd focuses so hard on every cookie. pittsie rolls his eyes and mimes throwing up into the bowl with the icing, making meeks laugh where he is sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. knox puts too many sprinkles on the cookies and cameron tells a story they all know, but they still laugh. meeks sets the oven temperature too high and blames charlie for distracting him by throwing out random numbers. knox feeds pittsie some of the icing, pittsie pretends to swoon and acts as coy as possible. todd laughs, and charlie grins at him, finally got you out your shell, have we? the kitchen smells sweet.

[starleska]

i'm DYINGGGG Emberlynn is adorable and so goddamn funny 😂😂😂 come on all of you people hating on her, you know fine well this is exactly how we are when yelling about our favourites or writing fanfic 🙈🙈🙈

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Okay but consider this...

Lillith did not, in fact, order Alastor to go to the hotel or protect Charlie (per say)

In fact, she might have slapped the exact opposite order on the deer, because she knew what a nightmare he could be.

It would be inifinitely more fun to have her reveal that when she drops in for a visit.

"So you sent Alastor here to protect me?"

"My dear, I told him explicitly not to fucking come here in order to protect you. But he's a wilful bastard and I should have known better." Lillith sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"So why did you come here?"

"Why, pure spite and a desire for entertainment my dear. Why not?"

"...if that's true, why didn't you ask for my soul in our deal? I... would hope my mother would trade it for your own."

"She may have, she may not have. She could just force me to release it to her too, you know that's in her power."

"That didn't answer my question..."

Lillith laughs, "Darling, I think you actually endeared yourself to the Overlord when you fought that horrid mantis woman on television. He genuinely enjoys that level of chaos... and the fact he remained against my many subtle attempts to have him leave, means perhaps the stubborn deer might actually like you."

"Preposterous, it's mere entertainment..."

"Like Rosie? Like Vox? Are they entertainment? You let her hug you and didn't even try to bite Charlie once. Oh don't get steamed, deer, I'm just yanking your tail... it's not a bad thing to care for someone. And my-... Our darling daughter..." here she winked, having scryed the initial song battle between Alastor and Lucifer, grinning widely. The two were so similar when it came to theatricality, and yet, so different in terms of everything else. "here is just the sort of creature that no one but the bleakest of fools could fail to care for."

"...how dare you imply I have any emotions, you wretched diva." The tone was mock offence and joviality, and only Lillith's echoing laughter stopped Lucifer from defending her majesty's honour.

"Oh, you do, and I'm sure you're quite fawn'd of Charlotte, you antagonistic anachronistic ancient artifact." She bounces back, airily.

"Ho, I know one should never ask a lady her age, but I don't think there's a number high enough for you to provide in answer."

"I missed these little banter sessions, Bambi, it got quite boring without someone mocking my every waking moment."

"And your husband is a poor substitute for your cruel wit, Siren, and yet... we made do with what we had. Now, how are you here? I thought Adam's little nonsense kept you pinned in place?"

"I believe Niffty took the pest out on my behalf and snapped the threads binding me there. Do get her something pretty from Rosie's and put it on my account, I know the demonic doll will adore anything from her boutique."

"Hello, can I get a word in edgewise?" Lucifer has this too-cheerful grin on his face, waving his hand like an eager student aiming for the attention of the teacher. "Hi, your husband, hello. Quick question, what the fuck are you talking about? How do you know the bellhop? How is Adam involved in any of this? And again, what the FUCK is going on here?"

"Oh... did I not say, my love?" Lillith coos, a trembling note that she knew angels used between one another to help settle ffrazzled nerves. It was always a delightful amusement to see Lucifer's ruffled feathers settle. Intriguingly, the little ex-orcist does to, and then looks confused about it. "Why, I was trapped in Heaven with my boorish first fool of a 'husband', to prevent more 'rebellion nonsense'. I had to make a rather clever deal to help Alastor get back to Hell, and I technically own his soul... but we've been friends for decades, dear. You've met twice..."

Ah, that might be why Alucard was so pissed to be dismissed, Lucifer realises. Wouldn't be the first time he'd forgotten a face.

"Charlie was abooooout ten at the time, in terms of age, my dove..." Lillith prompts. "The television sinner was there too? Do you recall that?"

"...no. But a lot of those decades were a foggy mess." Lucifer admits, trying to work out how he forgot a guy with a tv for a head. Wait, he remembered the guy with a tv for a head. "Did the television have a yellow sweater on and I kept subtly asking how the fuck he managed to get it on given the neckhole didn't seem that stretchy?"

Audience applause played from the air. "That's the one. The secret was, of course, velcro down the back. He'll say he used his powers to put it on, but he didn't have that ability back then." Alastor explains. "I do believe it was a vaguely productive meeting, even if you were only physically present, your Lowness. Why, I recall we'd taught deer Charlotte at least four new swear words by the time we left..."

Charlie, whose eyes were wide as she Recalled Something, felt her mouth fall open. "Oooooh, so you're the ones who taught me to say [very long and complicated series of words that seem to be sending Lucifer into a state of rage as yet unattainable to sinners with every syllable]... right? I said that to dad when he told me it was bathtime and I didn't want to, and he had to go set something on fire before he came back to talk about 'good words and bad words'."

Vaggie looked horrified, and snapped a glare at the radio demon.

Alastor's grin was WIDER than it should be possible to get. "Are you telling me, my dear Charlotte, was that his Majesty's tantrum was the reason that half of pentagram city was burned to the ground shortly after we left that day? Oho, that's just... delicious."

"Well I shouldn't have said it..." Charlie agonised, "I'm sorry Dad. I mean, it was a while ago,but..."

"Oh, you're not to blame Char-Char... this fucker is." Lucifer launches for Alastor, whose tendrils are manifesting... and then a startled bleat escapes as Lillith yanks him practically into her lap by the collar.

"Hold, Luci, there was no harm done in the long run. And you know I found it hilarious, in the aftermath." Lillith waves it off. She turns to the Overlord trying to right himself. "And you, you terrible influence, I do hope you haven't taught our darling anything worse while I was away?"

Charlie, caught back on the bleat sound, is watching on with stars in her eyes. She blinks. "What? No, he hasn't... well, unless you count [a strange warbling static came out of her mouth as her lips moved in what seemed like words]?"

Alastor's ears went flat in shock. "I promise you I didn't teach her that... I had no idea she could even hear that frequency, nuch less verbalise it!"

"I heard you tell Vox he should-..."

"DO NOT REPEAT THAT!" Alastor just about begged as static spilled about the room. "Do you WANT your parents to reduce me to atoms?"

Charlie blinked. "No? It was a pretty creative threat, but it wasn't that bad..."

Lucifer was pulling at a mental thread from the conversation. "Hold on, can we back up to the part where the deer was in Heaven...? How did that happen?"

Angry static filled the room until it was oppressive. Vaggie clutched at Charlie's arm whilst also putting herself between Charlie and the Overlord.

"Enough of that..." Lillith murmured and tugged at an antler. She received an indignant noise that Alastor wouldn't ever admit to with a gun to his head. "They were going to find out eventually you overdramatic cervine... might as well out with it."

The ears pinned flat. "No."

"Fine, I will... this canibalistic mass-murdering psychopath somehow got accidentally redeemed whilst fending off angels during an extermination. I strongly suspect it was because, even though they had just been fighting to the death, he still put himself in the way of those who would have killed Vox..."

Charlie was flickering between shock, anger, confusion and something that looked like it wanted to be weepy and affectionate. Hopefully she didn't settle for the latter because Lillith and Lucifer would have to pin the deer in place to avoid Alastor throwing himself out a window to avoid the whole mess.

"You... you knew it was possible... and you didn't TELL ME?!" Charlie yelled, settling on Anger.

Alastor grins, "Well, you never directly asked, did you?"

Charlie steamed, then pivoted in the old Charlie Fashion (TM) to joyful. "It's possible?!"

Lillith also adds, "From what I have heard around Heaven, it may not have been the first time... they just keep it quiet. And... well, if someone gets up there who starts doing things like, say, eating Cherubs because they were furious they were trapped there... they usually just killed them off. Unless, of course, they had the Queen of Hell there who could convince them to try another way."

"You ate CHERUBS?! They're like CHILDREN?" Lucifer is aghast.

"They are infuriatingly too-positive little nightmares with no common sense or ability to accept anyone else's viewpoint. Yes. they were delicious."

"...well, okay they're a bit of an experience but eating them?!"

"Most of them are centuries older than myself, they had enough time to learn to back off. I warned them, they persisted, I got to try angelic veal..."

Vaggie looked like she wanted to throw up. "Don't. ever. say that phrase again."

"What, angelic ve-...?"

"You stop taunting my future daughter in law or I order you to let them pet your tail." Lillith warns. It's an empty threat, she was a major proponent of bodily autonomy (anyone who'd been trapped with Adam would be) but Alastor didn't need to know that.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I would. Now, shall I continue? Lovely. We made a deal, with Adam cosigning because I was under his contract, to allow Alastor to return to Hell as a Sinner... with a few rules that the oaf created. Particularly the one around not raising an army against Heaven, and some poorly worded nonsense about not sharing the secrets of angelic steel and implying he should not be 'fucked with' which we took to assume meant no fighting the fool. Because he certainly made passes at both of us."

Lillith's mouth turned down in distaste. Alastor looked like HE was going to be sick.

Lucifer's expression flickered demonic. "If he wasn't dead, I'd kill him again..." After everything Lillith went through in the Garden, to be trapped with a man who could never learn from his mistakes, was blind to making them. Revolting.

"Didn't want to take the Dickmaster for a spin, Bambi?" he snipes, distracting himself with the casual patter of argumentation with the overlord.

"Why, your majesty, I was busy with your wife... although comparatively, I do have good time management skills, I suppose I COULD have managed if I tried..."

"You did WHAT?!"

Lillith was trying so hard to keep a straight face as she threw a pseudo seductive expression at Alastor. "Oh darling, he's not ready to know about that..." she purrs. She sees her husband attain an almost orange colouring. "We're joking, dear... I promise."

"Dad? Try counting to te-... fifty-seven." Charlie intervenes.

"One, two-... wait, why 57?" he says, colour settling again.

"Because the number was so unusual you'd get curious about it and drop out of your funk to ask."

"...you really are so clever, Char-Char, we really made something amazing when we created you."

"Daaaaaaaaaaad, please... not in front of Vaggie." she flushes.

"Unclench, your Lowness, your wife is aesthetically pleasing but we are but friends." Alastor shrugged.

"Because you liked Vox, right?" Lucifer was awarding himself a mental medal because he REMEMBERED bits of the conversation. Wasn't that sad?

Alastor snarled. "Hardly." Oooh, that seemed like a sore spot. Time to press.

"Didn't like you back, huh? Fair. I can't fucking stand you, and-..."

"Lucifer, leave it." Lillith said. It wasn't harsh or sharp, but it conveyed that she knew something about why the Overlord's expression had fallen behind that smile, even as he forced whatever emotion that meant back into a box and reasserted the mask. "It's complicated, and now is not the time for that conversation. Suffice to say, no one slept with Adam outside of his exorcists, but I did manage to get Alastor back to Hell as swiftly as I could in order to have him covertly assisting Charlie."

"How? If you wouldn't let him at the hotel, then how does that help?"

"Destabilise the Overlords, be more lenient about the souls on his chains trying out the hotel, spread information about the place in a covert manner that wouldn't get a target on you, so many underhanded things my dear. Though, I am glad he disobeyed... I hadn't realised how little you understood of management and staffing."

"Heh, yeah... it was the best we had."

"Charlotte, you could have ordered palace staff to come and help at the hotel, you were always too kind."

"Oh, I dismissed them when you left with Charlie..." Lucifer adds, sheepishly.

"It seems there is a lot I need to do in the interim, then." Lillith sighed. "Alastor, would you be open to helping me manage these tasks, even without the deal in place?"

"...I kept the last hotel together with magical duct tape and elbow grease, it's a matter of pride now to continue in the role." Alastor shrugs, as if unconcerned. The collar shatters with a snap of elegant pale fingers. "Thank you... now, what was it you needed seen to? I will need to schedule in a few hours to go and tear the Vees limb from limb, but outside of that, my calendar's quite open."

"Wait, we need to discuss everything we just learned! I have questions!"

"Later, Charlotte. Now is the time for action..." Alastor replies, radio dial eyes flaring, already planning on how he would prepare the Vees for dinner.

"How dare you talk to our daughter that way, Alastor, deer?" Lillith teases, tugging at his ear and laughing as he snaps his teeth at her fingers. "Oh, don't fight in front of Charlotte, she'll end up with a complex or something..."

"On top of her glaring daddy issues you mean?"

Alastor doesn't like the way Lucifer's expression goes from furious to cold, cruel delight in a heartbeat. "Well, it's on you to fix now as well, bellhop... seeing as you claimed her too. So, how about some..." the world seemed o slow down like a horror movie, "Family... therapy...?"

"...If you'll excuse me, I'm going to beg Vox to kill me."

Charlie leaps for him, "No, he's kidding!"

"So am I, Charlotte... do take a breath. Your parents are apparently comedians this afternoon, and I think we'd all best steer clear of them until whatever madness has swept over them, passes. Now, would you like to come and watch me dismember an overlord? You and Vagathat could even tag-team Velvette if you wished..."

Vaggie looks like she might pass out.

His ears flatten. "Ah, I believe I hit another slang term and I'm not going to like what it really means... am I?"

Lucifer curls half his wings around the Overlord, as one might companionably sling an arm over their shoulder if they were at comparable heights. Clearly having decided that he can torment the other better if he REALLY leans into this madness between them all.

He steers the deer towards the corridor as Lillith follows behind, unwilling to miss the fuss.

"Well, you're gonna love this, Al... husbando nuero uno, honey, deerly beloved, blood moon of our life..." Laying it on thick, but Al looked ready to claw his own ears off with each passing endearment. "...but tag-teaming used to mean fighting in tandem, and now it means-..."

The door clicks shut, but seconds later every radio in the c=vinciity blasts an air raid siren and something that sounds mysteriously like a clown falling down the stairs.

Charlie counts to ten, breathing hard.

"What the fuck is my life...?" she whispers.

Vaggie consoles her as best she can, tossing up if Charlie outweighed the insanity of her family enough to propose. She blanches, momentarily, imagining having to ask Lucifer and Lillith and Alastor's permission, before catching herself.

Sure just the first two, right?

Right?

But then she recalled the look in the royal couple's eye, and their infamous penchant for committing to the bit... and resigned herself to like, dragging a sinner home and offering it to the deer for his blessing. Or something insane like that.

"No matter what, I love you, Charlie..." she murmurs externally. "Let's go take a walk in the garden to calm down, okay?"

"...yeah, I could use fresh air after all this."

There'd be so much to talk about later, so much to ask... but for now?

Charlie needed cuddles and connection.

And, based on the sounds downstairs, someone needed a first aid kit or a priest... so they'd be taken the back staircase to avoid all that. The smoke alarms began to blare.

Vaggie tugged Charlie away from the choas just a little faster.

----------

no idea where this was going, it spiralled on me

it could be funny tho