#all sinners present for once. all of them. at least once

[art-blogge]

Blood and Rust

<"Great work today, everyone! We can officially end Limbus Company business there for the day. Go hit the showers early as my treat.">

Amid cheers, Dante rubbed their arm and flinched slightly. While the Sinners had been fighting off the Abnormality of the week, one of its underlings had managed to bite their arm. Outis had carefully looked over the wound and declared it a normal injury with nothing to fuss over (despite them bleeding on the floor).

Dante wanted to argue about this- A wound from an Abnormality or it's summoned pet could still cause odd status issues!- but they were too tired to bother at the moment. If anything was wrong, Faust would probably notice and tell them. Probably.

Then again, Faust had a running habit of not explaining things until the last possible minute. Why would she explain something if she didn't need to that immediate moment?

How annoying.

With only Charon and Vergilius in the bus, it was quiet for once. It couldn't hurt to nap out here unless Charon slammed on the breaks.

Dante immediate chose the biggest seat and threw themselves on it. Theirs now.

A few hours later, Dante woke up to an odd feeling. They knew what hunger was, what thirst was, but this wasn't either.

<"The effects,"> Dante rumbled, drowsily sitting up.

"The effects!" Don Quixote agreed, not looking up from Dante's device. It took Dante a few extra moments to register that all of this was unusual and did a double take once it had fully processed.

<"What are you doing with that?">

"Someone hath removed my description of Sir Heathcliff! 'Twas not you, Manager Esquire, but whomst?"

<"Probably Faust,"> Dante ticked, rubbing where their eyes would be, <"You're not putting stickers on it again, are you?">

"Nope! I desire to rewrite mine entry!"

Dante was handed their device and they just stared at Don Quixote. Something here was wrong, but Dante wasn't sure what it was. Had something changed? No. Don Quixote looked the same as always. Big, shining eyes staring them full in the face. Oh, they'd gotten distracted.

<"I can't edit these, Donqui,"> Dante finally responded, tapping on the [Edit] button multiple times to no avail. <"And you're not writing in my notes.">

Don Quixote sharply inhaled and Dante fully expected the following yell of "But whyever not???"

<"I don't want anyone in there.">

"Hoh, is it like a diary??… Might I take a peek?"

<"No.">

Dante pocketed their device as a final "No", and Don Quixote sulked. Sulked, but didn't move. Fine. As long as she wasn't making trouble.

Dante thought back to the odd sensation they'd felt. It was still there, gnawing on their insides in a way they had no words for. They couldn't eat or drink anything (in a classical sense), so maybe they were starving? No. That felt different. Similar, but different. Very similar, completely different.

How annoying.

<"Donqui… Maybe a bit of an odd question, but is it normal to want something and not know what you want?">

Her understandably confused expression said all they needed to know, and they tried again.

<"As if I want to eat something specific but don't know what it is.">

"Aha! A craving of sorts, yes! I know of such things! I myself do not get such flights of fancy, but I know those of us that do! For example, I know Sir Gregor---!!"

Dante stopped listening for a moment to think. Okay, their body wanted something. Needed, mayhaps? Perhaps they were lacking in something? They would ask Faust if she was here, but they didn't want to get up all that much.

"--Once caught her putting ranch upon her cheesed burger! I do recall even Rodion staring at that one, myself!"

Oops, they'd missed that entire conversation. They'd also missed the part where they'd put their arm around her shoulders- When had they done that? Whatever. That wasn't worth thinking about at the moment.

<"I don't know why that would be a crime,"> Dante carefully chose to admit, <"For obvious reasons. It's not cigarette ashes in the food so who cares?">

Dante didn't add that they absolutely did have food standards that were arguably higher than half the buses, but that didn't matter when they couldn't participate and SOME PEOPLE would eat off the FLOOR---- Thought terminated, there was something wet touching their glove. The one on Donqui's shoulder. Squinting in spirit, Dante pulled their hand back and inspected their glove. Blood.

<"DONQUI, YOU'RE BLEEDING!"> they honked, jumping up to get a better look. As they did, Don Quixote reached up to check her shoulder as well, visibly confused by the situation. Dante didn't hesitate in turning the clock back, bracing for the pain and---- Felt nothing. Huh? What? Huh??

The wound healed, but the twin holes in her shirt did not, leaving both Sinner and Manager staring at each other. Both were completely clueless as to how that happened.

"I was never once bitten by that fiend…" Don Quixote trailed off, then paused and looked back at Dante. She was thinking hard, or hardly thinking. It wasn't easy to tell with her until her eyes lit up.

"You were! Has that vile fiend made you one of them?!"

Hooooonk!! <"I don't have teeth to bite with!">

"And thy cravings?!"

Dante stopped. The odd feeling had completely subsided at some point in the last few minutes. No. Nonono. It was bad enough the Sinners were glorified sacrifices, which Dante already hated. Now they needed to- No, Wanted to…. "Feed"?

By the Wings, no.

<"Still there,"> Dante lied through their figurative teeth, <"You should probably go. It should be gone by morning.">

After a few more- or a lot more- words, Don Quixote finally left, leaving Dante to think about their options and put their head in their hands. This situation was going to be unsalvageable if something wasn't done soon… But they also couldn't leave the Mephistopheles. Not that it mattered any- Where the Hell would they go??

How annoying.

----

Dante didn't get an ounce of sleep that night, far too worried about their own circumstance to get any. That, and they weren't tired. At least, they'd swear they didn't get any. When they'd dozed off in Sinclair's spot was a big fat mental question mark, so being woken up there was TWO big fat mental question marks.

<"Sorry, Sinclair,">

A moment's pause after sitting up, and then Dante jumped up like they'd been bitten by something. The sensation was back and worse than before.

<"I'm up! I must have dozed off on watch, my apologies!">

It was better to play it off.

Meursault raised his hand slightly, signaling that he wanted to speak. With Dante's approval, he spoke up.

"Faust wants to know your current state after last evening."

Well, never mind that, then.

<"Awful. I'm starving and it's not food I want. It's been like this all night. Please don't come near me.">

Dante realized their mistake as soon as they finished saying it. Telling the Sinners not to come near them immediately meant at least half of them would gang up on Dante's immediate location.

"Do not be bitten by the fiend's evil claws!" shouted Don Quixote from somewhere outside of the ganging. Unfortunately no one besides Dante knew that was a very literal statement, and thus her announcement went ignored. Dante folded in on themselves, pulling both hands into their coat. Too close. Too close! People were so close that Dante swore they could hear heartbeats that weren't their own. And maybe also their own. Dante was very stressed.

Like an angel from the heavens Faust entered, breaking up the crowd with her mere presence.

"It will take seven hours without blood intake to allow the effects wear off. It has been more than seven hours, and yet the effect persists. Please explain yourself, Dante."

She glanced to the side while Dante shrunk into their seat guiltily. Luckily, Don Quixote finally broke through and stood in front of them.

"As I hath said! The fiend has granted Manager Esquire~e claws that draw forth blood with nary a feeling! Look upon the holes in my shirt!"

"Lassie, are you saying Clockface is some sorta vampire now?"

The Mephistopheles erupted into chaos, which Dante was for once grateful for. It meant everyone's attention was off of them for the time being, even if it very much was about them.

Shoving Heathcliff out of her way, Ishmael yelled over the chaos "What if it doesn't wear off?!"

"Then Dante will be reclassified as a Bloodfiend, with all that it entails," Faust calmly answered, not bothering to raise her voice. She actively avoided looking at Ishmael, instead looking towards the nearest window. "That would be more than enough for multiple parts of the Head to hunt them down."

"So just lock them in their office until it goes away!"

Ishmael had a valid point, but it also scared Dante. What if it didn't? And anyway, the LAST time they were in their office with anything relating to an Abnormality, they'd ensnared nearly everyone.

"Then we lose seven hours of work," Meursault stated plainly.

"Our paychecks!" Rodion mourned, mentally removing food from her grocery list.

Gregor adjusted his glasses, sighing and ignoring that last statement.

"We can't work like this. Manager Bud will absolutely be in range of someone's blood. Maybe we can run late?"

The Sinners started to argue again, and then everyone went quiet. Dante didn't remove their head from their hands to see why- Vergilius had probably stood up.

This theory was confirmed when the back of Dante's collar was grabbed and lifted, easily pulling them out of their seat. Dante honked in distress, wildly swinging their arms to smack at Vergilius for such a crime. Dante's pleas to be put down were completely ignored by the annoyed Color Fixer, and they got no help from any of the Sinners.

<"Put me down! Put me down! I can leave myself!">

"Whatever they are saying, I don't care."

How annoying.

<"I'm going to scratch you at this rate and then what?! Another seven hours?!">

To get their point across, Dante swatted at Vergilius' arm before freezing on contact. Though several layers of fabric seperated Dante's hand from Vergilius' arm, Dante could feel his heartbeat. They felt close to him. No, too close..!

<"I can feel your heartbeat, Vergilius! I could spread this to you!">

It had been intended as a warning, but it came out as a threat. Dante hoped it wouldn't be misunderstood.

"Dante says that you cannot risk this status. You cannot have it reversed, we can."

Thank the Wings that Faust understood them. Or maybe she was just playing it down. It was impossible to tell with her sometimes.

Wordlessly Dante was dropped, and they immediately scrambled to their office, resisting the urge to turn back. They wanted to apologize, explain, anything, but not like this. Not like this.

Dante slammed their door shut before leaning against it and sighing internally. Okay, fine. Fine. Just a few hours alone. Not even the full seven. They'd fed off Don Quixote hours ago.

That didn't tell them why the hand that had touched Vergilius' arm had fresh blood on the fingers.

Behind them, they heard the door lock.

<"Whoever's out there!"> Dante whined through some gears, <"I accidentally got Vergil I think! This blood is fresh, reset the count! Seven hours and don't let me out until then!">

"Seven hours," Faust's voice responded, "Faust will keep count."

Dante shut off their vision and mimed a sigh. They could definitely do it- That wasn't the issue. The issue was much harder to determine. The idea of being away from everyone worried them, despite regularly being in a different room than them. No, it'd be fine. It was a single door away. If anything happened, they could yell. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.

They had their device. They could strategize and run some simulated battles- "Gaming", as someone had called it. It wasn't. It was strategizing and testing outputs! It was seeing how well IDs that normally wouldn't be run together would mesh in combat. And, okay, maybe a little bit of goofing around.

They could also record everything in their notes. Someone… C… Cat? Car? Catherine, that was it, Catherine had called it a diary. It couldn't hurt to add notes on their status.

--(6 hours, 50 minutes remaining) Ten minutes later, they'd fully written down everything they thought was important about their current state. Now to strategize.

Seeing no good EGO gifts in the first menu, Dante refreshed and got worse gifts. Ah. Time to reset, then.

Smoke and Wires. Excellent, they could run a Bleed team! How ironic that would be considering the situation!…

Dante wisely refreshed and reset again. They didn't want to accidentally tempt themselves. Dust to Dust AND Ashes to Ashes? Excellent, this would be a fast run. Full Liu, who cares? Time to goof off.

--(6h, 42m remaining) Seeing animated blood splatters was enough to make their insides squirm and gnaw, so they opted to start Win Rate spamming and turning the volume off. This team had no friendly fire (like Reindeer or Magic Bullet), so they weren't worried about outcome. If they won, they won. If they lost, they lost. But now they needed something else to occupy their time alongside this.

Not the projector. Too much blood in most of their life up to this point for it to be a safe option.

Not their own room. There was no way their room wasn't full of blood right now. No way in Hell.

Screw it. Time to learn how to draw. They had pens and they had their notebook.

--(6h 24m) "You alive in there, Manager Bud?"

<"Yes,"> Dante answered, relieved that Gregor was there. For some reason. <"I'm trying to figure out how to draw. It's uh.">

They glanced down at the pitiful attempt of a sheep they "drew" and grumbled.

<"It's not great. Did you need something?">

"Nah, Outis suggested we take turns watching you. Figuratively, of course. I bet it's a better drawing than I could do."

<"Bet,"> Dante responded, getting up and sliding the paper under the door, <"I told you it was bad.">

"What do you mean? This looks fine. Here, let me go find a pen myself…"

Gregor and Dante spent some time passing the paper back and forth, adding better or worse sheep on every time. Eventually this got Sinclair's attention, and he joined them. Unfortunately for both Dante and Gregor's self-esteem, Sinclair was an excellent artist. This went on smoothly until…

--(5h 53m) "Scheiße! Papercut…"

<"Should I get a new piece of paper??"> Dante quickly asked, already starting to get up, <"And are you okay?">

"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry. We can keep going-"

Sinclair was cut off by Outis distantly but loudly announcing "TIME TO ROTATE!"

"Uh, guess not. Sorry, bud."

How annoying.

But yeah, that made sense, as much as Dante hated to admit it. Someone staying here too long might forget why the door's locked and open it or something. Okay, time to find something else to do----

"Hello and salutations, Manager Esquire!!!!"

Shit.

<"Hi, Donqui…. How are you feeling after last night?">

"Tis nothing of note. I would very much like to attempt a sheep as well!"

<"Oh, okay! Let me get more paper!">

--(5h 32m) "ROTATE!!" came Ishmael's voice, and Dante stopped drawing to shake their hand out. Finally, they could stop. Don Quixote was surprisingly demanding when she realized Dante was a (slightly) better artist than her. Free of the impromptu commission, Dante slid the paper under the door and rolled over right there on the floor. Their back was starting to hurt from sitting like that for so long.

Unfortunately, since they were no longer focusing on the drawing, Dante was forced to confront the ever-growing hunger clawing at their insides. It was about the same as last night's craving, but it felt worse because they'd been so laser focused on something else… And now they were feeling it all at once.

"You alive in there?" came Heathcliff's voice, a hint of concern under his joking tone, "Do I gotta shove you in this bag too?"

<"I'd take the bag over this,"> Dante groaned, <"This sucks.">

"Sucks, you said?" Rodion added with an audible smirk, and Heathcliff groaned loudly.

A single playing card of some kind was slipped under the door. Dante didn't mind card games, but after the month at sea, they'd learned the hard way that playing with Rodion was not all that fun. Should they take the bait…? Idly scratching their arm with the pen, they considered their options before ultimately deciding that they'd rather be distracted and took the card.

It wasn't a normal playing card. In Rodion's handwriting, the card read "Accept the game or play 108 pickup!".

Well, now they didn't have a choice. Wait. No. If they said no, Rodion would potentially open the door. Wait. No. They wanted to be kept away… Right? Right. Right, yes, keep them away.

<"I don't really want to play with you, Rodya. You cheat.">

"And how the hell are you gonna play Uno when they can't see the deck? It just doesn't work," Heathcliff added.

Dante slipped the card back under the door and mimed a sigh.

<"Can we just talk instead? Donqui was telling me something about ranch earlier.">

--(4h 01m) "Rotation! Move along now!" Outis' voice rang out, breaking the silence. The current trio had run out of things to talk about surprisingly quickly, and it'd just been overall uncomfortable.

"See you in a few hours, Clockhead."

Hours?

Hours???

<"Hours?">

"Yes, hours, Executive Manager. You have four hours remaining. We've been rotating every half hour and--."

<"Four hours?!"> Dante honked incredulously, missing whatever Outis had said after that. Their stomach itched. They ignored it and futzed with the pen some more. They'd seen Hong Lu twirling a pencil the other day and now they were trying to copy it in an attempt to ignore the still-growing sensation of Need.

Outis cleared her throat and knocked on the door to regain Dante's attention.

"I'm sure you want to know why we've been switching every half hour."

Dante could hear the smirk through the door. If they could frown about it, they would be.

<"Of course I do. Go on.">

"Very well. We've been rotating because we've been unable to confirm nor deny that you have not inherited the Abnormality's penchant for manipulation. If a single person is left unchecked, you may convince them to open the door."

<"Since when was I good at manipulating anyone?"> Dante asked, figuratively raising their eyebrows, <"I don't want to be out there right now. It can't be that big of a problem.">

"Executive Manager," was Outis' only response. She sounded annoyed, so Dante didn't push it.

<"See? I'm bad at it. Anyway, who's with you?">

The sound of Ryoshu's odachi bumping against the door was enough to answer that question. Okay, so there wouldn't be anything to talk about this time-

"I would like to give you a suggestion, Executive Manager. Have you eaten yet today?"

Dante's stomach rumbled at the idea of eating. They hadn't even considered it with the stress they were under.

"Do not."

<"What?">

"Do not. You can eat after you overcome this. That gives you something to look forward to."

Ryoshu snickered just loud enough that Dante could hear it.

How annoying.

<"Real helpful. When I get out there, I'm making you eat this pen.">

Their empty threat was completely ignored, taking all the wind out of their sails. All they had to do now was mess with this pen, and that was it. They really, really needed to get a hobby.

--(3h 35m) "Our turn!" came Hong Lu's voice, and Dante picked their head up off the floor. Finally! Someone willing to speak with them!

"Greetings, Dante," said Yi Sang, sitting down against the door, "You have three hours and a half remaining. It is a shame we cannot look upon your visage as we speak to you, but it is a shame we must carry until the hourglass runs out of sang."

"… Sang, sand?" Yi Sang now offered, highlighting the pun that normally would have caught Dante's attention.

"Seems they're not in the mood for it, Yi Sang. Oh, perhaps if we put our face against the ground, we can see them beneath the crack of the door?"

For a moment, Dante imagined seeing Hong Lu's face appearing under the door, and then imagined grabbing his eye with their claws. They very quickly abandoned that imagery and spoke up instead.

<"So, anything to do before I accidentally stab myself with this pen?">

--(2h 59m) The half hour had been spent listening to Hong Lu and Yi Sang have an increasingly nonsensical conversation, so Dante had stopped listening in favor of trying to draw on their coat sleeve. It didn't work, so they took their coat off and tried to write on their shirt sleeve instead. This went predictably worse, what with both the pen and shirt being black. This was stupid.

Frustrated, they scratched at their arm again with the pen, only to recoil when it hurt a bit. They'd accidentally hit where they'd been bitten yesterday, and they immediately put the pen down.

Dante then picked the pen back up and poked at it again. It hurt, yes, but it was a sensation that wasn't the hunger or other hunger.

"Charon wonders if Clockface is dead," Charon plainly stated from outside, startling Dante and making them drop the pen.

<"Uh, no, I'm alive.">

Meursault's voice confirmed for Charon that Dante was alive, and then both went quiet again. Okay, fine, they could play the quiet game too. By taking a nap, right there on the floor.

--(2h 25m) Knocking woke Dante, and without thinking they knocked back.

"Two hours and twenty-five minutes remain," Faust informed them before adding "How is your condition, Dante?"

<"Fine,"> Dante lied, picking at their bandages, <"I'm alive and the clock is fine, so it's fine. I'm going back to sleep.">

--(1h ?m) The sensation of their organs being squeezed snapped Dante wide awake. It didn't hurt them, no, but it was still an awful sensation. They were so, so, SO… Hungry.

<"Is time up yet…?">

"No, and you have about an hour left," answered Vergilius.

Dante would have scrunched up their face if they could have. Instead, they threw the pen across the room as if that would help any. Reasonably this did not help, and Dante returned to picking at their bandages. It was itchy! Super itchy!

Wait.

<"How do you know what I asked??">

Vergilius didn't answer that. Either he'd guessed what Dante was asking, or he was being a prick.

How annoying!

Digging his claws into the door, Dante hissed out <"I asked you a question!">

They were ignored a second time. Dante realized their claws were out and immediately retracted them. Then Dante realized they had claws and let them back out to inspect. They didn't pierce Dante's gloves, but they were still very sharp. Abnormality logic, Dante figured, poking their uninjured arm with a claw. Ouch. They weren't sure what they expected when they did that.

Another internal squeeze caught Dante off-guard, causing them to curl up and groan. It felt like they were being squeezed like one would a lemon or something. Was the vampirism trying to drink their blood? That didn't make sense, but neither did any alternatives.

Vergilius said something, but Dante didn't process it with all of their brain and RAM focused on figuring out how to ease this awful sensation.

--(? ??) Laying on their side with their knees to their chest seemed to settle the foreign sensation the best, so they kept that position. They were determined to get through this. The only issue now wa---

<"Ouch!">

They'd poked the injury again while itching. Whoops. Well, that wasn't an issue. If it bled, they could just re-wrap it.

If it bled.

If it. If it bled.

Bled? Bleeding?

Would it bleed?

Scratch, scratch. Scratch, scratch. Scratch- BLOOD! BLOOD! FOOD! FOOD! F--

<"Ack!">

Realizing what they'd done, Dante ripped their claws out of the re-opened wound and immediately pressed on it with their coat. It hurt, and they could feel the blood soaking into their coat, and they could feel the blood soaking into their glove, and they could see the blood, and they could smell the blood. It was right there, free, without hurting anyone else.

"Is everything good in there, Manager Bud?" asked Gregor with a bump on the door.

<"No!"> Dante blared a little louder than intended, <"Ask Faust if my own blood will make it take longer! The wound reopened, sorry! It got itchy…">

They had no intention of admitting that they'd briefly fallen victim to madness. Why would they? They were the Manager, and they had to appear competent. They had to, despite all of the Sinners knowing well that they were a defenseless coward.

They waited to hear an answer, but none came. So they waited, and waited, and none came.

Hesitantly, they called out. Was anyone there? Could anyone hear them?

Hello?

But nobody answered.

It was just Dante, their wound, and the bitter scent of blood.

Panic took over. They had no idea how long was left, and their claws had touched their own blood. Did this mean they ruined everything? Was it fine or was there another seven hours? Was there a point in waiting anymore?

Now completely desperate to escape the sensations, they plunged their claws back into the wound with a maddened fervor. Feeling blood rush into their hand gave them a euphoric rush as well. Free! Free! No more waiting! Sustenance! Food! Blood! No, not enough! More, faster! It wasn't enough! Bite down and drink up! Still not enough! Still not enough! Ignore their burning throat! More!!

Then it was over, leaving Dante soaked in their own blood and feeling nauseous. They'd failed. They could feel stomach acid bouncing up and down their throat, threatening to overflow, and they could feel their vison blurring.

The door's lock clicked, and Dante scrambled away from the door.

<"Don't come in! Don't!">

Their warning was completely ignored, and Faust's voice clearly spoke.

"Time is up. I am opening the door."

<"No no, don't, I lost control…!"> they weakly warned, but this too was ignored.

The door finally swung open to most of the Sinners squeezed into one area, all glad to see Dante… Before taking in the sights.

Everyone shouted at once and tried to run every-which-way, chaos erupting right there in Dante's doorway. Dante was grateful they cared enough to express it.

Rodion had once joked that if Dante was an animal, they'd be a cat. Dante's fading mind agreed with this and slowly blinked before remembering they weren't a cat and that they didn't visibly blink. Someone had grabbed their wounded arm in the meantime, and someone else was holding them upright. That wasn't important. Oh, and they'd had claws like a cat too. That was definitely more important.

<"Rodya was right,"> they slurred, one uncomfortably long tick bubbling out of them, <"Kinda was like a cat.">

"Goddamn bloody delirious."

"That is quite like a cat! Do you also have nine lives, Dante?"

Before Dante could consider responding in their daze, the room was briefly covered in water with a loud SPLASH from somewhere to their left. Dante's vision cleared, and they rapidly became aware of the situation they were in. They also ignored whatever it was leaking from their head, whether it be water, oil, blood, or vomit.

"Situation has been resolved," Faust stated, removing the Fluid Sac EGO, "Time is up. Your own blood was not able to trigger the counter. Faust thanks you for testing that."

"A.Y.I?"

"Ryoshu wants to know if you're insane.."

"Faust is completely sane and reasonable, as am I. Thank you for asking."

Rodion bent down and lightly knocked on Dante's head, turning their attention from Outis re-wrapping their arm.

"Danteeeee, you bad kitty, you've made a mess!" Rodion teased, and Dante swore their head got warmer all of a sudden. If not for their arm being stiffly held, they would bury their face in their hands. Instead, Dante opted to bury it in Outis' shoulder, ignoring her visibly irritated expression. From there, Dante spoke up.

<"Thank you for being patient, but I think I'd like to skip today… I need to hit the shower.">

All of the Sinners immediately agreed that Dante was not to leave their sight again and unified to deal with this themselves.

How embarrassing…!

[thief-of-eggs]

I think, given his… erm, past, that Alastor would view murder as an appropriate form of showing affection.

He does it for all the hotel inhabitants. Everyone who starts to grow on him, who’s wellbeing he begins to care about, despite himself.

It happens with Charlie first. A sinner out on the streets talks a little too poorly about her and her hotel, her dreams, her ideas. She hears and it brings her down for only a moment (she always was one to recover quickly) but the short moment is enough for Alastor.

They find the sinner’s body impaled on the wrought iron fence the next morning. No one fully understands why Alastor seems particularly giddy about it.

The next time, it’s Angel. A client sees him outside of work, and seems to forget that he isn’t owed time he doesn’t pay for. Alastor’s shadow grows behind him, and after steering Angel and the others away, Alaator guides the man down a darkened alley.

He eats the man whole, enlarging his head to do so. He returns to the others with the man’s shiny golden tooth, which he’d spit out after devouring him, and he drops onto Angel’s hand without an explanation.

For Lucifer, it’s a bit more subtle, or at least harder to detect. Because Lucifer didn’t even know that the bodies he’s constantly finding outside his room belonged to individuals who’d once mocked his name. He hadn’t known that they’d belittled him, called him weak, called him a coward.

Alastor knew. Which is why, one by one, he picks them off. His memory is carved from stone, and he remembers each and every greatest offender.

And what better place to leave his kill than at Lucifer’s door? Like a cat presenting his master with a caught mouse, he brings his trophies back to Lucifer, depositing them where he is sure to find them and be proud.

Eventually, everyone figures it out- Alastor was never hiding it, but the others didn’t know to look for it either. They piece together that all it takes is an insult in front of Alastor, and suddenly the offender is missing, or perhaps they come across their body shortly after. Death is so common in Hell, that it takes them a while to get it.

When confronted he’ll shrug and hum, offering a half hearted wave of his hand. “I’m just doing my civic duty as patron of this hotel” he says, casually examining his claws.

No one really knows what to say. They are not used to love that is so vicious, so violent. So damning. Red paints not only Alastor’s heart but also his hands, staining him further with every act of affection.

It’s all he knows. The only way he understands to express his indebtedness to the others, the only way to carve out a bit of himself and present itself to the others for them to adore.

It’s unconventional, but so is everything that Alastor ever does.

And for the others… Well. In a place like Hell-? It’s not exactly a bad way to receive love, so long as it keeps them all safe.

[jazjelspen]

scarlet and silver lining

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc still trying to get used to writing fics again lol/possible part 1 after the epilogue)

[Prologue]

You never truly got along with your 'father', not even in life until the passing of his mother.. your grandmother.

Technically she wasn't exactly your grandmother, and Alastor wasn't your father.. at least not by blood but by adoption papers. Poor Nana, she just wanted a little grandbaby running around the house before her days started getting counted down.

Alastor knowing that he didn't want to go through the trouble of finding a wife nor did he want to deal with the issues that came with that let alone the process to conceive a kid, with a heart full yet a hesitant hand he then signed your papers.. adopted you for the kind old woman at the age of six.

Orphaned by your parents sudden passing, you never truly found out why or how they died. Only thing you knew was that it was sudden, unprovoked, unasked for. They were healthy yet from what you could hear from the cops that took you from your empty home was that there was blood, lots of it.

With no family to take care of poor little you, you got thrown in an orphanage and stayed there hoping to be rescued and loved someday.

Till one day a man with a large smile and clean-cut clothes walked in with a gentle old lady, both talking to one of the adults in charge of the place. Eventually while touring the building they managed to find you hidden in a corner reading a picture book, reading about a baby deer finding his way in the world without his mother, this intrigued the lady and she started to speak to you.

No matter how much the man tried to get the lady to start moving to look at more options she was so stuck to you, your innocent and your little voice attempting to use big words entranced her poor heart and in that moment she just knew you had to be her granddaughter. After she said the word, the adult responsible led them to talk more and sign papers and the rest is history.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was all you were willing to think far into when it came to your past, not wanting to remember what once was before falling into Hell.

You died around the 1940s, you followed in your fathers footsteps and created your own radio show before you died and being the daughter of Alastor in life had it's perks when he was famous in your home of New Orleans.

Although, you kept your secret deep in the ground when it came to your connection to Alastor. No way in hell would anyone know he was your adoptive father, you knew it'd only make you an even bigger target.

Especially to Vox, your boss and the demon that owned your soul.

Also the man that hated your father with his guts, but of course he didn't need to know any of that.

Your contract with him allowed you to be on his show, have a segment of it, get the royalties from it and be under his protection and his roof, in exchange you do any job he asks you to do no matter how hard or long it gets.

God did you hate transitioning from radio to TV, you were never fond of those color video boxes.. they lacked personality and were shallow in the content they produced. but hey, you needed to survive in hell somehow so why not just throw your soul to this TV guy to stay safe from the exterminations and other ruthless sinners.

You died around the time when the Radio Demon was barley getting the word out and showing his true power, the day you recognized his voice and heard his name blasted everywhere was when you knew he was worser than you thought, you didn't think he was this much of a sadist in life.. he must've hid it incredibly well from you then.

And you hated him for that.

Hated him for killing innocents, his sadistic tendencies, his power, his smile, his singing and his lies. His lies that he was your kind ol' dad that would do nothing wrong.

God.

But here you were now in present time being forced to be at the Hazbin Hotel by Vox.

Your hand currently leaning over to knock on the door ready to knock. You'd be warned that Alastor was here, and were warn to be more careful with your words and actions considering how badly Sir Pencious messed up before. This time bringing no technology with you but your head, memory, and a few things to sleep a few nights at this establishment. You were told that you would get more royalties and more perks like even getting your own show to rule over completely if you succeeded in this mission.. and god did you need your own place and studio so that Valentino didn't bother you any longer.

Your lips parted to let out a shaky sigh, a sweat bead running down your forehead down to the side of your face.

'c'mon ____, keep it together will ya?..' your thoughts scolded at you,

Your free hand wiped it away before finally knocking on the door of the hotel, hands shaky and your practiced smile of years

The door opening and being met with the princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar.

You could've sworn you felt the red eyes of a certain radio demon stare at you full force behind the princess's back.

Charlie gasped, seemingly more than ever excited to see someone new.

Your lips parted and started to move, you thoughts racing as you could feel more people stare from behind the royal.

You knew you'd regret doing this mission, Alastor being involved in it should've kept you away..

but if there was a chance to either get a solution to fully get away from the V's or to benefit from them if you did all this right, then so be it.

"Hello.. you must be Charlie right.. My name is ______ and I heard you are redeeming sinners? Your highness, I believe in your cause.. please help me relieve myself of my sins."

Your hands went from holding your luggage to clasping together with a face full of worry and a need to get better. Even you were unsure if you meant what you said, but you just knew that you knew what you had to do no matter what.. you would benefit from this somehow.

"Please, let me redeem yourself in your Hazbin Hotel, Princess Morningstar."

(hello readers!! thank you so much for taking a look at this epilogue of a possible new pic series! I actually made this fanfic almost three years ago on quotev but I want to bring it to life in a different fashion and new writing, so I hope you can stick around till the end of this series!!)

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

A Dance in Death

Title: A Dance in Death

Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader

Word Count: ~3,927

In which Alastor takes the reader out to Mimzy’s club. Things go sideways much too soon, but the Radio Demon is quick to make amends.

A/N: Part 2 of sorts to my Never and Always series. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Mimzy’s speakeasy was most known for three things. 

One, it was known for its captivating acts and performances. Demons and sinners from all around Pentagram City had heard stories and whispers about what could be experienced there. Two, it was known for being one of the most lively and entertaining places on this side of Hell. And three, it was known for being on the wrong side of town, making it the perfect place for no-good demons to spend their time and even do discrete business, so long as they paid their dues to Mimzy, of course.

That last point probably should have kept you away from this place. But you couldn’t help but feel safe knowing that you had come on the arm of the Radio Demon himself. After all, who would dare approach you with Alastor around?

Nobody, as it turned out. You and Alastor had been sitting in a corner booth for almost an hour now, and nobody had dared to come within ten feet of you, save for one unfortunate server who had graciously provided you both with your drinks before scurrying off and hiding, not coming back even once.

And although you enjoyed any time that you got to spend alone with Alastor, you couldn’t help but notice that the two of you were both on edge that night. 

You, on one hand, simply wanted to dance. It wasn’t often that you were able to go to bars or speakeasies, and you would have loved nothing more than to lead the demon across from you on to the dancefloor. But you knew better than that. Alastor’s interest in you came with limits that you hadn’t yet discovered, but you’d be double-damned if you were going to find them out tonight.

Although you had to admit, as you gazed out longingly at the dancing demons on the floor, that you wouldn’t mind at least trying to share a drink and a conversation with your partner. But that wouldn’t happen until Mimzy finally decided to saunter over to your table.

Which led you to the reason for Alastor’s impatience.

The whole reason that he had invited you out tonight was because Mimzy had requested an audience with him at her place of business. To discuss what, you weren’t sure, but you knew that the Radio Demon hated to be kept waiting. 

His impatience was starting to become evident, though it was likely that nobody around you noticed anything amiss. You, however, had become well versed in reading Alastor’s silent cues.

He had yet to touch his drink, though his clawed hand was firmly wrapped around the glass. He was surveying the building with apparent disinterest, but you could see the way that his sharp gaze roamed over each and every other demon and sinner present. You could see tension in the corners of his ever present smile, even though his eyes were hooded in an expression of mild boredom.

As you downed the last drops of your drink, you risked a glance over to Alastor once again. You had wanted to strike up a conversation since you had stepped foot through the door, but hadn’t wanted to distract him from his thoughts. But when his grip around the glass tightened once again, your internal war finally ended. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to have him suddenly lose his composure and bring the whole place to the ground.

You cleared your throat lightly as you placed your glass back down on the table. You received Alastor’s attention immediately, his eyes darting over to yours. “Yes, my dear?”

You smiled back at him. “Mimzy has a lot of nerve hyping this place up when it has such terrible customer service, doesn’t she?”

With no small amount of satisfaction, you noticed Alastor’s smile ease into something that almost resembled kind amusement. “Indeed,” Alastor hummed. “Though I must say, her choice in song is quite enjoyable.”

You shrugged, looking back at the dance floor. “It’s fine to dance to, I suppose. Not so much fun when you’re stuck sitting and waiting for someone to show up.”

There was no response. You returned your gaze to Alastor to see him looking at you almost curiously. “I wasn’t aware that you were one for dancing, my dear.”

A laugh bubbled up and pushed its way through your lips before you could stop it. You pressed your fingers to your lips to try and conceal it as Alastor tilted his head at you in confused interest.

At the sound of your laughter, his shadow suddenly perked up, quickly making its way over and sitting beside you.

When your giggle had finally subsided, you opened your mouth to respond to Alastor’s comment. It wasn’t completely his fault that he knew so little about your past life, after all, but you hadn’t expected that he, of all people, would make such blatant assumptions.

Before you could get a word out, though, the shadow placed a clawed hand under your chin, tilting your head to face it. Its fingers wandered until they reached the base of your throat before gently clawing their way back up, almost as if trying to coax another laugh out of you through touch alone.

It was so much more intimate than you had thought Alastor was capable of.

But then Alastor waved a hand in the air, summoning his shadow back to his side. It obeyed almost immediately, caressing your throat once more before melting back into the floor and returning to its rightful place. 

You cleared your throat again, this time in an attempt to fight the red spots on your cheeks. Not that their presence had escaped Alastor’s notice. His smile had widened dramatically, though thankfully, he chose not to comment on the interaction, instead waiting for a response to his earlier comment.

“I do dance,” you finally replied, looking back up at the Overlord. “I used to dance plenty before…well, you know,” you said with a small grin. “I died.”

Alastor waved away your comment with a flourish. “Ah, yes, I do see how such a thing could impede on your abilities for a moment. Though, if I’m not mistaken, you now have two perfectly functioning legs.”

“But I haven’t been to a club since before I died. And there’s not much opportunity to show off my moves at the hotel,” you replied with a shrug. You tilted your head at the demon. “And you? Do you dance?”

The Overlord smiled wistfully. “Oh yes, I was quite known for my dancing abilities back in the land of the living.”

“I thought you were known for being a mass murdering radio host.”

Alastor shrugged, giving you a devious grin. “I’ve always been multitalented, my dear.”

You laughed again, this time trying to ignore the eager look you received from both Alastor and his shadow.

“You know,” you said slyly once you had calmed yourself, looking down at your empty glass. “I wouldn’t mind brushing up on my skills tonight after your meeting.” You looked up innocently, meeting Alastor’s eyes. “If you haven’t lost your impeccable skills, that is.”

The demon’s eyes flashed. “Careful, mon chere. I-”

“Alastor! How’re you doing, doll?”

You whipped your head around at the sound of the new voice. You stared as a short, blonde woman made her way across the floor, arms raised in welcome and a broad smile on her face. 

Alastor, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all bothered as he greeted the woman. “Mimzy, dear,” he drawled, turning away from you. His smile stretched unnaturally. “You are extraordinarily late.”

The woman- Mimzy- waved her hand in indifference. “I’m busy running a business, Al, you know how it is. Can’t eva get anyone to do what you want without a bit of prodding.”

Her gaze slid over to you, eyes widening as her smile grew. “Say, Alastor, did you bring me a new toy?” Her eyes roamed over you slowly. “She’s a little dull, but I can spruce her right up.”

You suddenly felt very exposed.

You recoiled slightly, attempting to keep your movements unnoticeable as you pressed yourself further into the booth to get away from the Mimzy’s prying eyes. 

You tried not to notice the way that other demons and sinners had begun to glance over at the sudden appearance of the bar’s owner. They aren’t looking at you, you told yourself. But you couldn’t help but take in Mimzy’s confident appearance and attitude, coupled with Alastor’s calm poise. You could see how the Mimzy could have mistaken you for one of Alastor’s wayward souls.

Almost as if it could sense your discomfort, Alastor’s shadow suddenly reared up and placed itself directly in front of you, blocking you from Mimzy’s line of sight. 

“Unfortunately, Mimzy dear,” Alastor said from opposite you, though he avoided looking in your direction. “Charlie has grown quite attached to her little friend, and I doubt she would be thrilled to discover that I had allowed her to become a part of your…”

“Productions,” you piped up. Alastor’s shadow looked back at you in delight before shifting through the air to sit beside you once again.

“Precisely,” Alastor said.

Mimzy only shrugged, giving you a wink. “Well, I’m here if you change your mind, hun.” 

She turned back to Alastor. “Let’s you and me talk for a bit, huh? I know this sorta thing ain’t really your cup of tea. I’ve got a room in the back that we can use. Your little doll will be alright on her own for a while, won’t she?”

At her words, Alastor finally turned to face you once again, his eyes roaming over your face for only a moment before he stood. “Of course. I never would have brought her otherwise.”

With that, he made to follow Mimzy without so much as a glance back in your direction. A move that he had made on purpose, you were sure. After all, it simply wouldn’t do to have others believe that the Radio Demon actually cared for someone.

Even so, you couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment as the two sinners walked away. From beside you, in the dim light that the club so generously provided, Alastor’s shadow placed its hand on yours comfortingly. You turned to face it with a smile. “At least I still have you.”

The shadow grinned, using its other hand to gently cradle your cheek, pulling you closer until your foreheads met. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling as your heart grew light. The shadow might not have been Alastor himself, but you had learned enough to know that it was heavily influenced by Alastor’s own thoughts, feelings, and commands. This was as close to affectionate that he would ever be with you.

Suddenly, the shadow’s touch left you.

You opened your eyes to see that it was nowhere to be seen.

“My, my,” a voice said from behind you. You jerked forward in surprise, spinning around to see a tall, winged imp casually leaning against the booth. He definitely hadn’t been in the building a few minutes ago, you noted. 

The imp leaned forward. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?”

You flushed, glancing around to see if you could catch a glimpse of Alastor’s shadow. But it was as if it had never been beside you in the first place. Which would explain why the imp had decided to approach you at all. Nobody would have dared spoken to you if they knew that you were here with an Overlord.

You opened your mouth to tell him as much before you caught yourself, clamping your mouth shut. No matter how well Alastor’s conversation went with Mimzy, it was likely that he never would have danced with you anyway. There were too many eyes and ears here for him to let his guard down.

“You here alone?” the imp asked, trying his luck once more.

You fixed a smile on your face. If this was your only chance to dance, you were sure as Hell going to take it.

You stood, extending your hand in greeting. “Would you like to dance?”

The imp’s flirtatious smile changed to one of intrigue. “Straight to the point. I like it.”

You wiggled your fingers. “Are we going to dance, or what?”

The imp grinned, taking your hand and leading you on to the dance floor. 

Sure, it wasn’t exactly what you were hoping for when you and Alastor had come to Mimzy’s club, but you figured that it would at least be a decent substitute for something that you would never be able to have.

You felt your smile slipping as the pair of you began to move to the music. 

You hated moments like these, when you realized that no matter what you did or how you felt, you would never be able to show your feelings for Alastor in public. It wasn’t just the fact that he disliked physical touch, which you had never faulted him for. It was the fact that as one of Hell’s most powerful Overlords, he felt the overwhelming need to keep up an appearance. One that did not, unfortunately, include you.

A gentle touch snapped you back to reality. “You alright?” the imp asked.

No, you weren’t. But you weren’t going to let that stop you from dancing.

You nodded, taking the imp’s hand in yours as you began to move to the music once again. “I’m fine.” You smirked. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”

~~~

If you were to later ask anyone at Mimzy’s speakeasy what had happened that night, you would probably receive a whole mix of stories.

Some would say that the Radio Demon had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his antlers growing and his bones cracking as he laid waste to the bar, presumably for fun or out of an unjust anger.

Others would say that he had come to seek some sort of revenge on a winged imp that had been spotted dancing before he suddenly disappeared, not to be seen again.

One specific witness, who shall remain nameless, would say that she had been speaking to an old friend about a business opportunity that he had foolishly taken no interest in. As she was speaking, a shadow had entered the room, whispering in its owner's ear. Her old friend had walked away from her, re-entering her bar, where he was met with the view of an imp dancing with the very woman that he had brought here in the first place.

The witness hadn’t even had time to blink before her friend had taken on his true demon form, batting people aside as if they were only flies before promptly picking up the imp dancing with the woman and melting into the shadows with him.

When her friend returned, he refused to say what he had done with the poor imp, though the witness had no trouble making a few assumptions. He had walked over to the women, gently taken her hand, and gave the witness a clipped farewell before vanishing with the women into the shadows.

It was a brutal display, even for the Radio Demon. If the witness had to guess, she would assume that perhaps the woman had something to do with the whole debacle.

Not that she would ever say so to anyone else, of course. She knew better. 

You, however, had no trouble saying straight to Alastor’s face what you believed had happened. 

“We were dancing, Al. It was harmless. If I’d needed your help, you would have known.”

“You would never have summoned me if he was threatening you, my dear.”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. The two of you had been going back and forth like this ever since he had so graciously brought you back to the hotel from Mimzy’s bar.

You lifted your head and took a breath before continuing. “If he was threatening me, we probably wouldn’t have been just dancing.”

Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously, his shadow rearing up and scowling in disgust. 

You whirled around and pointed at the shadow. “And you. You went and told him that something bad was happening, didn’t you? You are a liar and a rat, my friend.”

At your words, the shadow suddenly shrank down in size and hid behind its owner, almost as if trying to avoid your accusatory glare.

Alastor, on the other hand, didn’t break eye contact. “He only meant to protect you, my dear, the way he was instructed to.”

“What did you think I would need protecting from, exactly? I can’t exactly die again, can I?”

“There are things far worse than a second death, my dear,” Alastor said with false sweetness.

He was right, you knew. You had almost been subjected to such a thing after your death, when you had sold your soul to the Vees. You still weren’t sure exactly how it had happened, but Alastor himself had found out about you and somehow saved you from a life of imprisonment and torture. 

Not everyone was as lucky as you were.

But that wasn’t why you were upset. 

As soon as Alastor had saved you from the Vees, you had been determined to help him even a fraction of the way that he had helped you. You owed him so much more than that, you knew, but it was the only thing that you could give. And so, from that moment forward, you had tried your very best to become a solid and stable presence for Alastor, unmoving in your trust in him and, hopefully, eventually something like a friend.

But tonight, you had done the exact opposite. To see the Radio Demon defend you was to know that he felt things like affection, or even something more than indifference. That wouldn’t do for his reputation at all, you knew, and you hated yourself for being the cause of it.

You sighed in defeat, crossing your arms over your chest in defense. “I know that,” you said, holding your position and glaring daggers at the Overlord. “But I also know that you risked a lot today by protecting me. I’m not worth losing your power over-”

You gasped as Alastor appeared directly in front of you, glaring intensely. He didn’t lift a finger, but you swore you could feel the heat of his gaze.

“I do hope you haven’t finally started to doubt me, my dear.”

“Never,” you promised, searching his gaze.

The Overlord stepped back, his stretched out smile immediately concealing his true feelings. “Wonderful,” he said. “Then we both understand that my power and status will forever remain.”

You nodded once before finally breaking eye contact, choosing to look down at the floor.

You could feel the anger seeping out of you slowly, replaced by embarrassment. Of course Alastor would never give up his power for you. Even if someone had truly seen the incident, it was unlikely that anyone would ever be able to use it to their advantage. You were talking about the Radio Demon himself, after all.

“You’re right,” you muttered, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “I made a foolish assumption.” You smiled to yourself. “I seem to be full of those today. I’m sorry.”

You were met with silence. 

But before you could look up, you suddenly felt the cool touch of a shadow. It rested its hands against your cheeks, tilting your head up to make eye contact. It moved its thumbs in slow circles, leaning down until your foreheads were touching. It didn’t move any closer than that, but you knew that this was more than anyone else had ever received.

It was lovely.

But oh, how you wished it were really him.

The shadow stepped back, returning to its place beside its owner.

Alastor himself acted as though he hadn’t noticed the interaction at all, instead looking around your room as if seeing it for the first time.

“I do plan to maintain my powers, my dear,” Alastor repeated. 

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, he pushed forward. “Although,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “I certainly wouldn’t mind losing a few souls to keep what is most certainly mine.” 

He looked towards you then, his gaze hard, as if daring you to argue.

And you should have. You should have told him that you weren’t worth losing souls for. You should have told him that you only wanted to help him, never hinder him. 

You should have done lots of things.

What you did do, however, was smile and duck your head to hide your rising blush. 

You looked back up and extended your hand wordlessly.

Alastor looked down at it before glancing back up at you, his eyebrow raised in a silent question as his shadow looked on eagerly from behind him.

Your smile only widened. “I believe, good sir, that you owe me a dance.”

The shadow nearly leapt with excitement, rushing forward and taking your hand. 

You laughed at its enthusiasm before Alastor stepped forward and waved his hand, whisking the shadow away and taking its place. 

He placed his hand under yours, bringing your hand up to place a soft kiss on the back of your knuckles before releasing you and straightening. Slowly, he brought his claws to the base of your throat before gently dragging them back up until he reached your chin. He tilted your face up further to meet his gaze before dropping his hand down to yours once more.

With his other hand, he waved his staff, summoning a slow dance tune that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.

You tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks and looked up curiously. “Didn’t you used to dance to songs that were a bit more lively?”

Alastor smiled gently down at you before summoning his shadow and surrendering his staff to it. “I did indeed, mon chere. But we aren’t exactly alive now, are we?”

You smiled back in agreement. “No, I suppose we’re not.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder as he placed his hand on your waist. He lowered his head down until your foreheads were touching and began swaying, taking you with him on his slow trek around your bedroom floor.

You couldn’t have asked for anything more.

~~~

If you asked anyone at the hotel what had happened in your room that night, you would receive a few different stories.

Angel Dust would have told you that the Radio Demon had suckered a poor woman into going out with him that night, and you were most likely getting it on.

Charlie would have told you that she hadn’t seen either Alastor or the hotel’s newest resident all evening, though she doubted that the two of you had gone off somewhere together. Right?

Husk would have told you that he felt sorry for the woman who had gotten caught in the Radio Demon’s line of sight. You were such a sweet thing, and you deserved so much better.

You would have simply smiled and shrugged, giving nothing away.

Nobody would have dared ask the Radio Demon, of course.

But if anyone had bothered to ask the shadows, they would have received a rather lovely story about two sinners who had found their peace, only for a moment, dancing in each other’s arms that night. 

An Overlord and a sinner. 

A woman and a man. 

Two damned souls, finding home at last.

Part 3 Here!!

A/N 2: I didn’t get to proofread, but I hope you guys still enjoyed it! If you read the first fic (or even if you haven’t), I’m thinking of making another part where it’s platonic Angel Dust x reader and he finally gets to give her a makeover. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Also, I want to write more Alastor x reader (maybe a continuation of sorts, maybe not) so let me know if you guys want to be tagged in those!

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx-blog @maybememoriesx

[thatanimeramenchick]

Hi! I’m new and wanted to ask if it’s alright you you could do something for Yander Lucifer?(Hazbin?) if not that’s alright!

Yandere Lucifer Headcannons

Ah, no problem, I’ve been waiting for this one. Out of all of the guys on this show, he is my personal favorite. I have suddenly become a fan of short kings. Also, hope you have fun on this personal little hell spawn known as Tumblr.

I feel like his character very much would be in line with soft yandere content. Despite being Lucifer himself, he comes off as very gentle and affectionate, wanting the best for those he loves, even if it means doing things that make them unhappy. He just wants what’s best for you. Or at least he thinks he does.

He also comes off to me as someone who is afraid to get too close to people out of fear of either disappointing them or hurting himself. Before making up with Charlie, he doesn’t talk with her much, seems to be internally clinging to the memories of the family he once had, and views most if not all of his citizens as too far gone to salvage. If he found himself with feelings for someone, I see him trying to push the object of his affection away, until something happens that causes his feelings to spiral out of control. This could be fear the of you being corrupted or permanently endangered; it’s something that pushes him over the edge to acting on the feelings he been trying so hard to push away.

Some of this manifests in being overprotective. He can present this as being a reasonable stance considering how dangerous hell actually is. Besides the typical problems of sinners running rampant and demons trying to trick you into deals, there are also angelic weapons floating around hell that you could be killed by even when it’s not extermination day. The idea of losing someone he cares for deeply in such a permanent manner is horrifying to him. He’d rather upset you by having you locked away by force than have you tainted by hell.

Has a jealous side, as can be seen with how he interacts with Alastor. Even as the king of hell, he can be quite insecure with his relationships considering his separation from Lilith and estrangement with Charlie. He can easily see other friendships in your life as competition, depending on who they are and how much time they want to spend with you. While he isn’t against the idea of you having any companions ever, he frowns on you spending too much time with them. Besides, they’re literally citizens of hell, why would you even want to be associate with them?

Tends to pamper you. He may have you trapped in a bubble, but he wants it to be pleasant for you. Anything that you wish that is within his power to grant he will do so happily. Your imagination is the only thing limiting you when you’re with him. Well, that and whatever restrictions have been placed on you to keep you “safe.”

Showing repeated frustration at his treatment, especially if you are being particularly passionate with shouting and tears, will leave him depressed. While he’ll try to hide it from you, in private there may be long bouts of self disgust and guilt. If you are lucky enough to find out about this and you’re particularly emotionally intelligent, you may be able to work this to your advantage. It’s your best shot at escaping him, as you’re definitely not going to be overpowering him any time soon and probably aren’t going to be able to outsmart him.

[jasontoddscigarette]

guys… Christmas Gala with Jason Todd 🎄🌃

Just imagine going to The Gotham Annual Christmas Benefit Ball on Jason’s arm? Hosted by Bruce Wayne, of course. The two of you stepping out of the sleek black Tahoe Bruce had sent to your shared apartment to make sure Jason brought his ass over for at least one gala this before it was over.

The sight of the two of you walking into the warmth of the Gotham City Hall ballroom captured in a time capsule by the paparazzi as they snapped hundreds of photos of the attractive couple. Knowing you’d end up in tabloids along with all the other clippings about Bruce Wayne and his elegant parties that some could only dream of. Snow falling into both of your hair peppering it as the streets were painted with a fresh fall of it for the approaching Christmas morning.

Jason for once cleaning up to the nines, a tux and his white-swirled raven hair gelled back as he held you close to him, using the warmth of his body to keep you toasty. A red backless dress with a bow on the base beautiful against your smooth skin. Hugging your body on all the ways it needed to, Jason unable to keep his hands off you, claiming it was because he just liked the shiny bow but you knew the second you got home he was taking that dress off and unwrapping you like his early Christmas present to ravish you.

The scent of pine from the fresh Christmas trees all over the venue, trays of cookies from the finest bakeries in Gotham, only the best for Bruce Waynes guest. The warmth of the white glow of fairy-strung Christmas and snowflake lights all over. The hum of Michael Bublé could be heard as Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) mixed in with the chatter of people and the clanking of wine glasses. Laughter and conversations filling the atmosphere, your annual Christmas Eve tradition, even if Jason pretended he hated it every single year. But, watching you surrounded by Christmas decorations, the glow of lights and tree-toppers on your gorgeous face? Made you look like the damn prettiest thing alive and he couldn’t pass that up. A angel amongst sinners.

Bonus if you can convince him to at least dance with you for one song, holding your soft body up against his hard muscled one, hands sliding up and down your sides, exposed back via your dress and of course just so happening to grab your ass at some points which you’d slap his arm playfully in reaction. Even though you both knew you loved it, his attention to you. His adoration. His worship. You both could’ve stayed home in your pajamas, cuddled up on the couch watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation with whip-cream topped cocoa and he’d still think it was perfect. As long as you were there. As long as he had you.

He never really cared for holidays from his childhood until you stumbled along into his life unexpectedly, but now there was you. And he did everything he could to make them perfect for his girl. His girl. His perfect girl.

[spitdrunken]

Vox x Reader Relationship Headcanons

This post contains SPOILERS in the sense that it is based off of the version of Vox as presented in episode 2. None of the actual plot points featured within are discussed. notes: background vox x valentino / polyamory (reader only dates vox), extremely unhealthy relationships, stalking, manipulation, hypnosis, power imbalance. kidnapping + physical abuse mention (neither done by vox)

To catch the eye of a demon as powerful as Vox is not an ideal situation. While he could be considered more levelheaded than your average demon, and certainly is when compared to his associates, he still has things that rile him up like no other. No, he doesn’t have a whole string of sexual partners to use and abuse like Valentino does, but that makes the weight of his gaze all the more crushing when it does fall upon someone.

Once you’ve got his interest, it’s practically impossible to slip away from him. He’s got vantage points all across the Pride Ring, being able to slip in and out of its many scattered screens with ease. While the usual tracking Vox Media subjects its customers to is already an invasion of privacy, yours would be on a whole other level.

With how inescapable his company is amongst Sinner demons, it’s more than likely you’ve at least got some kind of device he’d be able to peer into. As soon as your phone is being plugged into a port, he’d be skimming through your messages and search history. Though your face-to-face meetings might have been minimal or non-existent at this point, he would already know far more about you than most of your friends. …You should really clear out your search history more often. But, hey, he’s not unhappy about it! There’s no traces of his presence as soon as he’s done.

Vox cares a great deal about his reputation and image. Not only because he’s the very face of a high-earning brand, but it is also simply the kind of person he is. Whereas someone like Valentino might have gone right ahead and shot any possible partner in the head, Vox is much more careful than that. What would people think, if he simply went around and started electrocuting a bunch of unknowns to death? No, that’s just not his way of doing things whatsoever.

Even besides that, there’s also much more satisfaction in it, to him, to convince you to leave them and join him, of your own accord. Vox has always been the brain behind all operations, the meticulous and thoughtful one, the one who got investors on board and appeared in interviews. In other words, he’s become quite good with words, and can easily come off as charming whenever he so wishes. That is exactly the way he will present himself to you, at least at first: a demon unlike other demons, practically a gentleman.

You wouldn’t have known him from his early days, the time where he still made mistakes, and nobody knew his name. When he invites you over for dinner (through an email that you’re convinced is fake spam, the first couple of times you receive it), he wants to appear nothing but infallible and powerful to you. You, who is only familiar with him through screens, as a flawless news presenter, gameshow host, and much more. A smile would never leave his screen, and he is constantly courteous.

He’s got a couple of expensive gifts at the ready as well, ones that hail from his own company. Perhaps it’s the newest iteration in his own line of phones, or a brand-new kind of security system. He’ll wave off any kind of dismissal of his gift, telling to just take it, you don’t even know how many of those he has lying around! Trust him. (In fact, they are modified to grant him even more easy access into your life. A constant stream of information directed at him, with Vox never even having to enter your device anymore.)

In a place like the Pride Ring in Hell, existence is demeaning at best, and utterly miserable at worst, for the average demon. Vox is more than aware of this and, at first, doesn’t even try his absolute best to sweep you off your feet. The power and the safety net someone such as himself would provide would be more than enough for most people. For the average demon, time spent by his side would be a vast improvement, and no one can deny that.

And, in this case, he is most likely interested in someone with far less power than him: you. Whether actively aware of it or not, and if he was, he’d never admit it, a part of Vox desires to be with someone from whom affection comes more easily. And that is… Not Valentino. Not that he’d ever separate from him, mind you, you’d simply be the antithesis to him. If you aren’t, he’ll make you something closer to that.

One of the largest drawbacks that immediately becomes noticeable, is the political target spending time around Vox makes you. Whether he purposefully makes the two of you appear in Hell’s largest tabloid, or only goes someplace where the two of you are sure to be spotted, you’ll surely become a demon worthy of kidnapping after this. It is exactly this, and the fear that comes along with it, that Vox would weaponize against you.

Wouldn’t it be much better, and safer, to stay in one of the company’s buildings? You’re bound to get kidnapped anywhere else, you know. He’s just looking out for you! Really though, he’d never let something like that happened to you. Not only because such an occurence would cause his reputation to take a great hit, but also because he cares! The praises he heaps on top of you are never outright lies, though some are perhaps exaggerated. He wouldn’t spend so much time on a demon he wasn’t genuinely interested in.

Vox, to the vast majority of people, would come on too strong, and too fast. The kind of attention that comes from someone who hasn’t been denied anything in a long time. At the same time, underneath his collected demeanor, seen in his stalking and meticulous collection of information, there is something that could be seen as a glimmer of desperation.

One might stop and think that, if he truly were as capable and faultless as he makes himself out to be, why would he go through all of this trouble? Wouldn’t simply being himself, or something rather close to it, be enough? This is truly where the heart of the issue, his deeply-hidden insecurity, shines through. Besides just the way the thought of being rejected by you upsets him, as well as he tries to hide it, he can’t simply back out, now that he’s spent so much time around you. He’d never live it down.

If, for some reason, ‘diplomacy’ and his usual wooing doesn’t work… He’s an Overlord for a reason. He still has plenty of tricks left up his sleeve. He can manipulate any digital image he wants, including video, without ever touching editing software. Vox can show you the people closest to you saying outright brutal things about you, with their exact mannerisms and voice. All data gathered through the various devices of his he owns, then capable of creating replicas. In a limited way, he can bend reality to his will.

If even that doesn’t work, he has his powers of hypnosis as a last resort. In this case, he doesn’t like having to use them, would have preferred the satisfaction over getting you to fawn over him all on your own… But it’s just so much easier to plant a little trigger inside your brain. For him to snap his fingers, and have you become more agreeable. Your thoughts growing that tiniest bit hazier, your head the slightest bit heavier.

All you have to do is look into his eyes, and take a deep breath… That’s better, isn’t it? What were you even getting so upset about before, huh? (And again, hypnosis is a last resort here. He’s spent so many years dealing with Valentino’s temper tantrums that he’s an expert at diffusing any kind of argument, and nothing surprises anymore.)

Vox wouldn’t be likely to physically hurt you at all. He sees himself as being capable of more self-control than that, even when in the throes of jealousy. Really, the one you should be most afraid of during this entire ordeal is Valentino. While their relationship is by no means monogamous, and it never will be, he’s still used to being the center of attention. He uses violence and unpredictability to have Vox, largely, at his every beck and call. While Vox isn’t used to having denied things, Valentino’s is many times worse about it.

Initially, he ignores you. Designating you as some kind of fling, not even worthy of being one of his whores, soon ready to be forgotten. Vox doesn’t do those kinds of things all that often but, hey, anything’s bound to happen with an eternity of time to kill, right? It’s only when you become a more permanent fixture in their life that he really becomes more of a threat.

He’ll let his temper cut loose, specifically during times where the two of you are spending time together, causing mayhem around the company. If Vox’s attention is entirely unwanted, this may even be a welcome reprieve for you. Still, Valentino being jealous of you should be about the last thing you want. Frankly, it makes you liable to get shot on a bad day, or because of a poorly worded comment.

…Perhaps it would be better to stay close to Vox, then.

[theamberfist]

One Blind Mouse | Uncle Alastor + Reader

Familial! Alastor is Reader's Uncle

Description: One day after an overlord meeting, Alastor stumbles upon a giant demonic mouse that he soon realizes is his relative from life.

(Notes: CW Alastor, death, violence) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's niece/nephew/whatever term you prefer) (Reader is blind) (Reader is a mouse sinner) (Pretend Alastor had a sister for the sake of this oneshot)

Words: 2,940

Alastor's ears perked at the familiar sound of screams that always seemed to accompany the streets of hell. He'd just stepped out of a surprisingly entertaining overlord meeting and now his high spirits lead him to take a walk down the road. 

This part of the city, being Carmilla Carmine's territory, was significantly less of a disaster compared to most of hell, and although he didn't enjoy the area nearly as much as some others- such as Rosie's Cannibal Town- it was still a pleasurable enough experience. As he walked, he calmly held his microphone-cane behind his back and took in all the sights.

Most of it was nothing out of the ordinary; sinners running in fear at the mere sight of him, remnants of bloody fights and brawls, as well as a few trashed buildings and alleyways the overlord expected Carmilla to be very unhappy about. 

Alastor sighed. If there was one thing he both loved and hated about hell it was that every day tended to be just the same. Territory disputes, murders that were ultimately never permanent, and newly-killed human souls ending up fearful and disoriented as they randomly appeared throughout hell were all nothing he hadn't seen before. In his time living down here, he'd come to place great value on entertainment and breaks from normality. At the very least, they made afterlife in hell a little more fun.

It was because of this he considered summoning Husk or even Nifty to liven things up. That was what he normally did when he lacked any other form of entertainment, but before he could even decide which to rip from their normal lives, a new sound reached his ears that suddenly caught his attention.

It was almost akin to a roar; something he would have expected to hear from a lion or even a dinosaur if they were more common forms for sinners to take on. Glancing up, he now realized the sound had come from just a few blocks away, where a giant figure towered over some of the nearby buildings. 

It looked like a huge...rat? That was the best way Alastor could describe the entity; with glowing grey eyes, demonic markings, and surprisingly sharp claws and teeth. The rat was ripping apart the nearby buildings as sinners screamed and tried to run away, which made the Radio Demon's ever-present smile widen. It seemed he'd found some entertainment at last. 

So of course, he made his way towards where the rat was towering over buildings; realizing it was right on the edge of Carmilla's territory; approaching that of the V's. He hadn't even realized he'd been so close to their space but it hardly mattered now. While he'd at first assumed the rat's goal to be complete destruction simply for the sake of discussion, that didn't seem to be the case now that he observed them. 

They were ignoring most of the frightened sinners around them; aside from a few that happened to scream extra loud as they ran. Instead, their focus was more towards the nearest building; a TV store in which every single piece of merchandise had a different channel playing at once that made for quite an obnoxious display of sound. Even Alastor wanted to cover his ears, not stopping the giant rat sinner as they tore the place apart sloppily. 

He continued watching the scene for a few more moments until a car finally showed up nearby and a tech-related sinner stepped out with a frightened look on her face. Alastor recognized her as one of Vox's employees from back when they'd still been friends, though he was surprised the TV producer hadn't fired her yet with his poor track record of employees. 

Once out of the car, she approached the giant rat cautiously; as if unsure of how to handle the situation. 

"E-excuse me?" The sinner called, though the rat ignored her, "I demand you stop! This store is property of Vox Tech and you're going to have to pay for any damages you cause!" Alastor's smile only widened now, curious to see whether this seemingly out-of-control sinner would even acknowledge the tech demon or if they'd just continue to go about their destruction. If his employee couldn't handle things, perhaps Vox would even come all the way down here himself, and wouldn't that be a treat to watch? 

As expected, the rat ignored her as they crushed another giant flat-screen TV between their claws. The Vox Tech employee seemed almost offended as she came closer to them. 

"How dare you?!" She exclaimed louder now; taking on a more demonic form that was indicative of her anger, "Have you no respect for the art of television?!" This seemed to finally get the rat's attention because they paused, dropping the shattered TV and turning to face her as they gazed down.

"Art?" They repeated, their voice coated with that demonic tone one became accustomed to hearing while in hell. Alastor raised an eyebrow at the realization that this was not their regular form, wondering what they could have originally looked like but not saying anything just yet. "You call this art?!"

The rat grabbed another TV and threw it at the tech demon, nearly crushing her under its weight if she hadn't gotten out of the way in time. "This is pathetic!" 

Alastor had to agree there. Television had always been a lesser form of media to him, and it seemed this other sinner understood that too. Perhaps when they calmed down the two of them would get along.

Though, there was another part of him that took note of how familiar this particular was...

The rat grabbed two more TV screens and crushed them in either hand now; snarling. "Don't pretend to know anything about art if you support him!" Alastor knew without needing to ask that they were referring to Vox, which made his smile widen even more. It seemed he really would get along with this rat. Though, the more he listened to them speak, the more it felt like he should recognize that voice.

"Don't make me tell you again! Unhand our property!" The tech demon tried, though she was shaking as the giant rat stared her down. 

"No." The rat replied before tossing another TV at her. This time, it managed to hit her and she was knocked back into the nearby wall. It seemed the impact was enough to kill her, too, because her body finally went limp. Alastor knew she wouldn't be dead for long before regenerating but it had done the job for now, anyway. 

It seemed the only one that didn't realize that was the rat because they reached for another blaring TV and tossed it in the direction of the now-dead sinner again. Then they grabbed another and did the same before repeating the act again and again until every last screen had been destroyed. 

It was only then that the Radio Demon realized what was going on as he watched the giant rat feel around the destroyed store for any more Vox Tech Products; they were blind. 

They couldn't actually see the tech demon when she'd shown up; they'd only known where to throw the TV based on where they'd heard her voice. They'd been sloppily feeling around and grabbing TV's earlier because they could hear the obnoxious sounds coming from them, and they'd only killed the extra loud sinners because they could hear where they were.

How interesting, Alastor thought as he watched the rat's shoulders rise and fall as they caught their breath. They were far from the first blind person he'd met but they were the first one he'd run into in hell thus far. Based on the display he'd just witnessed though, they were doing just fine down here despite not having sight. He was about to step forward and introduce himself when a peculiar sight stopped him.

The rat, which had been giant just a moment ago, was now shrinking in size before his very eyes. They went from being taller than the nearby building to becoming so small he couldn't even see them from where he stood anymore. 

Curious, he stepped forward, realizing they'd shrunk to the size of a mouse. And, in fact, it seemed that that was exactly what they were; not a rat, like he'd presumed earlier. Like most sinners in hell, they still possessed human qualities, but the big mouse ears on their head and the tail made it apparent which animal they were meant to resemble. 

Amusement shined in the Radio Demon's eyes now as he continued observing the little creature. This tiny mouse had done all that damage just moments ago; leaving one of Vox's stores in complete ruin. He never would have expected them to possess that kind of strength based on how they looked, but it made him all the more curious of their motive as he now approached them.

"Well, hell there!" He called. Immediately, the mouse jumped in surprise and reached for their ears as if they were in pain. "My, that was quite a display!" He went on, ignoring their clear shock, "May I ask what might have prompted it?"

There was a long pause as the tiny sinner regarded him, now bent at the waist so that his face was a little closer to their eye level. For a second he wondered if they really were capable of speaking or if he'd simply imagined it earlier, but then they shouted.

"Uncle Al?!" Their voice, which had lost its demonic edge and returned to normal now, suddenly sounded so familiar that it felt as if the Radio Demon had been hit by a truck. How had he not recognized you before? What other little demon could have casually caused so much destruction to a TV store than his own niece/nephew/etc? 

"Why, is that you, my little mouse?" He asked with a grin so wide it nearly hurt. You nodded eagerly, immediately running up to hug him. You were so small, though, that you could really only latch onto his ankle. 

"It is, Uncle!" You replied, only now realizing how ironic his old nickname for you had turned out to be. You'd known the second you'd heard his voice that it was your favorite family member and finding him again like this couldn't have made you happier. Alastor chuckled, kneeling and placing a hand beside your little body on the ground. Once you felt it beside you, you immediately climbed on and then he carefully held you up so that you were closer to his eye-level. 

"And here I'd thought you ended up in heaven!" He told you, though his tone only held amusement. Your presence had always been enjoyable to him; ever since you were a baby. When he'd died, he'd been surprised to find he actually missed the nights when he used to have to come over and babysit you for his dear little sister's sake. 

"Nope," you told him, "But I'm pretty sure mama is there! I've been alone down here for years." The Radio Demon nodded at that. Like their mother, he'd had no doubt his sister had gone to heaven. Your presence in hell was a surprise, but with how mischievous you'd been as a child, it made some sense, even if he hadn't gotten to see how you turned out when you grew up. 

"It must have been quite lonely being by yourself." He replied as he brought you to his coat pocket now. You felt around the area before seemingly deciding it was acceptable and getting comfortable within the fabric. 

"And loud." You nodded. Alastor didn't doubt that; you'd had great hearing even when you were alive, so he imagined those big mouse ears made it even more amplified now. "I hate television."

"I agree with you there!" Alastor replied as he began walking back down the street with you safely tucked into his pocket now. "Especially since the whole point of it is to see the pictures, isn't it?" You nodded, crossing your arms in disdain. "At least radio is tasteful." In life, you'd always loved tuning into your uncle's nightly broadcasts. No matter what you and your mother had been doing at the time, you'd always made her take you home to hear them. Alastor nodded in amusement now. 

"Uncle Al, where are we going anyway?" You asked suddenly.

"Well, I do still have a broadcast to run!" The Radio Demon replied, "I'm sure the citizens of hell will want to hear about that giant mouse causing so much destruction earlier." You giggled and got a little more comfortable in the demon's pocket. "Now, while we talk, do tell me more about those demonic powers of yours?" The fact that you possessed the ability to grow and shrink between more and less terrifying forms just like he did was certainly not lost on him, and nor was the possibility of capitalizing on those powers with the potential of you two taking over hell as family. 

♡ After that you're almost always found in Alastor's pocket whenever he goes anywhere

♡ Sometimes you like to hide in his pocket and then pop up at random times, which he used to scare some of the hotel guests after the first found you

♡ You go into your demon form whenever you get angry, which usually happens when you're surrounded by way too many loud noises at once and get overwhelmed

♡ Alastor thought it was entertaining at first but after the third time you broke his coat pocket by transforming while he was literally carrying you around, he invested in some cute little earmuffs to prevent it

♡ Everybody at the hotel thought you were adorable once they got past the initial shock of A) Alastor having a niece/nephew/etc and B) the fact that you'd popped out of his pocket and startled them

♡ Vaggie lets you ride on her hair bow sometimes and Charlie absolutely loves to pet your mouse ears (she's very gentle but sometimes gets too excited and Alastor has to pull you away from her)

♡ You were terrified of Husk at first because he's a cat and Alastor, always looking for entertainment, did nothing to help with that fear

♡ So for a while every time you would be near Husk he would have to be super careful not to scare you and make you go into demon form

♡ That was until you realized who you really had to be afraid of; Nifty

♡ She associates mice with uncleanliness so she tried to stab you many times at first. Alastor never let her actually succeed but he did enjoy watching her chase you around the hotel for the first week

♡ That was how you got over your fear of Husk because he would sometimes let you hide behind the bar in between the bottles of wine. He even fed you a piece of cheese once and you were sold on him after that

♡ Eventually though, a solution was reached with Nifty when Charlie suggested they dress you in nice clothes (A red striped suit like Alastor's or a dress version of his outfit, fitted for your tiny self) in order to give the cyclops a visibly difference between you and the actual vermin she was supposed to kill 

♡ That worked well but you're still too scared to go near Nifty most of the time

♡ Sir Pentious dubbed you an honorary egg because you were close to them in size and he thought you were just so cute. He got you a little hat like the ones they wear and would even let you ride atop his hat (kind of like Alice with the Mad Hatter in the live action Alice in Wonderland)

 ♡ Angel Dust also loves you and one of the first things he did was introduce you to Fat Nuggets, whom you adored

♡ Sometimes you ride Nuggets around the hotel like a horse since you're the perfect size for it and Angel has many photos on his phone of the two of you being absolutely adorable

♡ Despite how he may seem, Alastor can be a very protective uncle. Since you've come to the hotel, he makes sure everyone keeps their volume down most of the time so as not to bother your sensitive ears. If anyone so much as raises their voice in your presence they're met with his sadistic expression and radio dial eyes as a warning

♡ No one is allowed to watch TV when you're around either; he doesn't care that English Descriptive Audio exists he just doesn't want you to feel sad that you can't have a normal experience like everyone else because that used to get to really you when you were a kid 

♡ Since you're always in his pocket, you've met most of the other overlords at meetings and things

♡ Rosie adores you and every time she meets with Alastor she brings along a new mouse-sized outfit she sewed for you as a gift. You have a whole wardrobe of tasteful clothes made by her now

♡ Zestial and Carmilla think you're cute but won't ever admit it. They just smile whenever you pop out of Alastor's pocket during a meeting; wanting to see what they're all talking about

♡ You did meet Vox once because Alastor ran into him on the street

♡ That went about as well as expected and you turned into your demon form due to his loudness and the fact that he insulted your uncle

♡ You and Alastor took turns beating Vox up that day 

..........

Headcannons related to this concept: Cursed-Cat and Mouse

[chronicbeans]

Romantic Lucifer x Maladaptive Daydreamer, Sinner Reader

Not me self-projecting or anything 👀. Plus I love the whole "dreamer and broken dreamer" dynamic I can make with this, even if it isn't the same type of dreams. This is based on my own experiences, but I'm trying to make it more generalized lol.

TW: Maladaptive daydreaming, mentions of depression and anxiety, escapism and dissociation, poor self-care from forgetting, fear of disappointment and disappointing others

• You probably met him at the Hazbin Hotel, to be honest. Normally, he wouldn't even look at a sinner. You're also not outwardly that different, either. The only thing that he might notice is that your eyes always look a bit distant, but he'd probably not question it. Why have a conversation with someone who is not present and in the moment?

• Charlie would have to introduce you, too. As said before, he wouldn't see the reason to talk to someone who doesn't seem to be paying attention. If Charlie wants him to talk to you, though, he'd do so. He wants a closer relationship with his daughter, and if simply introducing himself to you makes her happy, he would! Though, he is shocked to hear you are, according to her, an interesting person to talk to.

• So, he follows her over to you, all while she's saying "(Y/N), this is my dad, Lucifer! Dad, this is (Y/N), a guest at the hotel! They're a bit spacey, but they're trying their best... They're pretty unique, too! I'm sure you both will get along!"

• Once he gets a closer look at you... yes... you're very unique, to say the least. You look a little disheveled, but at the same time, like you're trying to look presentable. The look in your eyes also seems to flicker between paying attention and drifting off into your own head as he talks. When you respond, though, it sounds like you're at least retaining the basic information of the conversation.

• It takes a long time for him to actually become interested in spending time with you. Sure, you're an odd sinner, but still a sinner, and sinners are the worst in his opinion. However, he does visit the hotel every now and again to check in on Charlie in person. He's realized that calling her is not helping them get closer, even if he's still a bit confused as to why, so he's been visiting in person. Over time, he begins to notice odd things you do...

• You usually sit in the lobby, with a few other sinners, but don't talk to them often. Instead, you just sit there, making odd facial expressions every now and then. At first, he just assumed it was you reacting to the conversations the others were having, until he realized many of your expressions don't fit the topics. They'd be talking about exterminations, while you look calm, or about a pleasant event, with you looking sad or angry. Then, they'd be talking about fashion, and you'd look mortified. This sort of behavior interests Lucifer... You aren't like any other sinner he's seen. He, honestly, probably just assumes you're hallucinating or something. He'd rather ask Charlie, though.

• Unfortunately, she doesn't give away much about you. Something along the lines of "not wanting to talk to much about someone's personal problems without their consent", or whatever. He understands, but come on! He's her dad! A little gossip would be better than what he sees as a long silence between them. She does assure him, though, that you are not hallucinating. That, and she pushes him to interact with you, saying that his perception on sinners might change if he talks to some of the ones at the hotel.

• It's something that frustrates him... however, he pushes himself to do so. Anything for Charlie. Though, to him, it feels less like he wants his views to change and more like she's trying to to avoid talking to him. She never calls, after all... He still tries talking to you, though, and every time you seem extremely distant. That same flickering attention and that same disheveled look. Though, you definitely look worse than when Charlie called him to visit the first time, probably because you were caught on a regular day.

• You do make a few interesting statements, though. Mentions of days flying by fast, barely remembering parts of your life, a journal Charlie recommended you begin writing... Now you're getting interesting! Like a little mystery. He wants to figure you out.

• He'll try prying to get you to speak about yourself. What was your life as a human like? What were your sins, or biggest sin? Why do you look so... distant, all the time? Give him an answer! He'll take what he can get, and won't get upset.

• Daydreaming. That's the answer you give for looking distant. You don't really explain your answer, as if it should speak for itself. Though, you do mention that you're aware it's a "big problem", at this point. Dreaming... ugh... He doesn't even like the word, at this point, even if your type of dreaming isn't the same as his.

• You don't seem to want to tell him what you daydream about, outside of saying it's the types of things you can write a book about, instead of a simple self-fulfilling fantasy. You've got him hooked, now. This mystery has shifted gears. No longer is he as interested in you in general. Instead, your dreams are what he must know about. Which, granted, they probably will tell him a lot about you if they're so personal that you won't tell him.

• Whenever he spots you writing, he tries to sneakily look over your shoulder to read it. Usually, though, you spot him walking over before he can even try and close your journal. You do the same when anybody else walks by... except for Charlie. It honestly doesn't surprise him, since most everybody in the hotel seems to trust her, to some extent. He's just so frustrated. He wants to know more, but you won't say a thing, and Charlie won't, either!

• So, he decides to bite the bullet, and ask Charlie for help. Not the answers to his brewing questions, but instead about things you like. Interests the two of you might share with one another. Surprisingly, he learns that you and him share a lot more in common than he'd have expected a sinner to...

•He decides to try to talk to you about music, instead. What types of music do you like? Can you play an instrument? Do you have a favorite song, perhaps? The entire conversation is fascinating. Do you want him to play you a song, sometime? He'll be sure to bring an instrument the next time he visits.

• Once you do, eventually, listen to his music, he's absolutely entrance by the way you react to it. He's never really bothered to take notice of how you react listening to music before, assuming it's just like anyone else. He should've known that wasn't the case. Instead of a smile, or an attentive gaze, you're completely zoned out. Your expression is dull, which he'd normally be offended by, but he's quick to put it all together, now. That distant look isn't necessarily boredom or a disliking of the music... It's a dreamy look. You're daydreaming to his music. It only becomes more obvious once he changes the tones and your expression changes a bit, as if your daydream is changing alongside it. He's seen people dance, he's seen people sing, he's seen many types of reactions to music. However, to sit there and daydream is one he hasn't seen... At least, not so obviously and intensely.

• He doesn't want to embarrass you, so once he finishes playing his song, he won't mention it to you. He'll simply ask if you liked the song or not, then ask why. He'll slightly giggle, though, if you call it something along the lines of "inspiring" or "thought-provoking". A tiny little hint that he's slowly figuring out what is happening.

• Alongside your reactions to music, he does notice other things. Such as how sometimes, when he walks by your room in the hotel, he can hear the sounds of constant footsteps from behind the closed door. Sometimes he even hears tiny whispers, too, which sounds like your voice. Again, he doesn't say a word. If you're so secretive about such things, he won't pry... Which he, himself, is finding a tiny bit odd. He usually doesn't hold a sinner's privacy to such high regard, under the idea that he's King and needs to know what is happening... That, and his own anxieties making him feel the need to know as much as possible... But, for you, he's becoming a bit more aware of how odd that behavior can be when brought to a certain degree.

• So, he waits for you to tell him about it, yourself. And once you do, mentioning your little prancing, pacing, and your slight habit to act out your daydreams, he's ecstatic! For one, he's earned your trust enough for you to tell him such a thing. The other reason is that he has an idea! Why don't you try dressing up as the characters? It'd be an interesting way to engage in it. He's a musical man, he's probably heard of musicals, if not been in one! He could try getting you an outfit. If you don't want to, though, he's fine with it. It might be strange, after all...

• It takes a while, but soon, you both become close friends. Close enough that he's probably talked to you about feeling a bit lost and depressed, feeling very anxious for Charlie's well-being... In which case, he's probably a bit shocked to hear you relay the fact that, similarly, you are lost. Be it you feel depressed and or anxious, as well, or perhaps it's because you can't stop daydreaming. Either way, you let him know you feel similar, and he's shocked. He's always kind of assumed you daydreaming would help you escape from those types of feelings, not contribute to or possibly cause them.

• He listens more to your concerns and worries... and he relates more than he'd like to admit, in certain situations. Dissociation? You both kind of do it, in your own ways. Your daydreaming, you mentioned, might be that. You've never gotten checked, though, because therapists in Hell aren't the best. He knows all too well that he dissociates, from time to time, because Lilith pointed it out to him shortly before she left to do... whatever she's doing. You both forget to take care of yourselves, in your own ways. You daydreaming for so long, causing time to fly, and eventually forgetting whatever you forget... And him working on his rubber ducks to cope, focusing too much, and forgetting to do whatever it is he needed to do.

• He does get worried for you, and you probably get worried for him, as well. However, while he's not so sure about you, he's taking his worries for you and his daughter to try to better himself... Though, with you and him sharing things in common, he sees you as being a big reason to specifically better his mental health while Charlie is his reason to try to be a better father. How can he provide any sort of help to you when he's suffering, himself? Any advice would either, in his opinion, be bad, or be good but seem bad from the hypocrisy of him not following his own advice. So, he's got to help himself, yeah? He can do it all on his own, too! Watch him! He's not going to burden anybody else!

• Yeah, no. He's failed. Now, he feels worse. Luckily, though, you're there for him to go to! He would go to Charlie... But, he doesn't want to burden her with it. Quite frankly, he doesn't want to talk to you, either, but you can at least relate to him a bit. That, and he knows that keeping it all in is a part of what's made him feel horrible. So, again, you have your talks about life together... You mention your problems and he mentions his. You give him advice. Pretty good advice, actually. He gives you small tips on a few things to make life easier. Then, as always, the conversation shifts to happier topics. What made you happy, recently? Did you have any nice food today? Stuff like that.

• Though, one day, you seem to be thinking about something. You look from him, to nothing, then back to him almost on a loop. He simply assumes it's one of your daydreams, and instead speaks about whatever comes to his mind, being patient with you. From how his relationship with his daughter and her girlfriend is going along, how his rubber duck creation is going, to what he thinks of a few of the other guests at the hotel. However, he is a bit shocked when you begin speaking, very suddenly.

• You start talking about a seemingly random daydream you had, recently. Beautiful music, nice outfits, fun dances... You describe a scene of you dancing with someone on a glorious night. However, you don't say who it is you're dancing with. You just describe a beautiful scenario, which is about you dancing with someone. When he asks who it is, after you finish talking, you kind of just stare at him awkwardly.

• It takes him a few moments, then once it hits him, he begins to laugh hysterically in disbelief. No. You couldn't possibly be implying it was him! Once you outright say it, and add that you love him as more than a friend, though, he's both ecstatic and terrified. He feels the same way, yes, but he knows he has his own set of problems he'd be adding into your life if he got with you... And then you start talking about how you are worried you'd make him feel bad, as you know that your daydreams can hype up future events, like dates and such, to an unachievable expectation... then everything is disappointing, despite it being perfectly fine.

• He, however, wants to change that... or, at least your outlook on it. He will happily hold out his hand and admit that he feels the same. He feels the same love for you, the same worries for the future, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth trying. Just because something wasn't to your expectations, doesn't make it bad, yeah? Once you realize that you still had fun, you'll learn to still enjoy your life, even if it'll never live up to your daydreams.

• That's how you two began dating. You're both used to helping each other through rough times, and comforting each other, so there wasn't really a big adjustment period of having to learn to do so. Instead, the first few months were spent on sweet dates, as well as helping you with your daydreams causing expectations that can't be met. As each date goes by, he asks if you had fun, even if it wasn't all you dreamed up to be. As you realize how often you say "yes", you begin to feel much more confident that everything will be fine and doesn't need to be perfect.

• He's gotten into a little habit of planning a secret date or surprise every once in a while. That way, you don't have the chance to build up such high expectations of what it'd be like. You'll come home to see that he's made the most delicious looking dinner buffet, and spread it out over his dining table. Or, you'll come home, and he'll say that he wants to take you out to go dancing somewhere. Small little surprises.

• He's going to make a rubber duckling based on you. Or two. Or three... Or twelve dozen. He can think of so many designs based on your lovely stories. He knows that he shouldn't feed into the habit, and he's actively doing his best not to, but he wants to show you that you can create beautiful artwork with your daydreams. Music, paintings, books, plays... If you find that you can't daydream less, you can try to at least transform them into a real, tangible thing that others can see or hear. His duckies are just an example of that.

• He sometimes wishes he could create something that catches your attention more than your daydreams, but he can also understand that you may not have complete control of it. So, instead, he'll try to gently get your attention if he needs you, just wants your attention, or wants to remind you of something you need to do. Be it a little tap on your shoulder, him calling your name, or walking into your field of view and doing something silly.

• He's sure to check in on you daily, asking if you've been making sure to take care of yourself. Did you eat today? Did you take a shower? Did you drink a glass of water? You gotta stay hydrated! In return, whenever you can, you do the same for him. You both take care of each other as best you can.

• If you're one of those daydreamers who has trouble falling asleep because your brain won't turn off, he'll do whatever he can to at least help you relax. He'll cuddle you, try humming a little soft tune, or get you something to drink to help you relax a little.

• Sometimes, although he'd never admit it, he's a little jealous of your daydreaming. Yes, he's aware the grass is always greener on the other side, and that's why he wouldn't say it. He knows you'll chew him out and reminding him of the issues it's caused you. He can see them, so you don't really have to remind him. He's just... missed the feeling of having such an imaginative mind. Sure, he still has had one. Ever since he was dropped into Hell, it's been a bit harder to do so... then, once Lilith left, it has gotten worse. He's been a bit too depressed to dream...

• Though, he knows that you can dream enough for the both of you, and that you'll happily share ones you think will cheer him up. He loves you for how much you've reminded him of the importance of dreaming... Just, in moderation. He'll be there to ground you, whenever you need it.

[inklings-challenge]

Inklings Challenge 2024: Official Announcement

The Event

The Inklings Challenge invites Christian writers to create science fiction and fantasy stories from a Christian worldview. All writers who sign up for the the challenge before October 1st, 2024 will be randomly assigned to one of three teams that are each challenged to write a story that fits at least one of two assigned genres. Writers will also choose at least one of seven Christian themes to inspire their story.

After teams are assigned on October 1, 2024, writers will have until October 21, 2024 to write a science fiction or fantasy story that fits their assigned genre and uses at least one of the Christian themes in the provided list. There is no maximum or minimum word limit, but because of the short time frame, the challenge is focused on short stories.

The Teams

Inspired by a similar challenge between J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis to write, respectively, a time travel story and a space travel story, the Inklings Challenge uses these authors (and G.K. Chesterton) as the inspiration for the genres assigned to each team. Each team is given both a fantasy and a science fiction option, so writers can choose the genre that is most comfortable for them. (However, writers shouldn’t be afraid to use the science fiction option as inspiration for a fantasy story, and vice versa. They can also choose to use both genres in one story, or write multiple stories). Writers may define for themselves which types of stories fit under each genre.

Team Lewis

Portal Fantasy: Stories where someone from the real world explores a new world

Space Travel: Stories about traveling through space or exploring other planets

Team Tolkien

Secondary World Fantasy: Stories that takes place in an imaginary realm that’s completely separate from our world

Time Travel: Stories exploring travel through time

Team Chesterton

Intrusive Fantasy: Stories where the fantastical elements intrude into the real world

Earth Travel: Science fiction or fantasy stories that feature any kind of land, sea, air, or underground travel on a past, present, future or alternate Earth

These teams will be assigned at random on October 1st, 2023. Writers are then encouraged to write a story before the deadline on October 21st.

The Themes

To add a Christian flavor to the event, writers are asked to use at least one of seven Christian themes from the list below somewhere within their stories. This year's themes feature the seven traditional spiritual acts of mercy which Christians are called to perform. Writers may use these themes to inspire any element of their story that they choose.

The seven themes writers may choose from are:

Admonish the sinner

Instruct the ignorant

Counsel the doubtful

Comfort the sorrowful

Bear wrongs patiently

Forgive all injuries

Pray for the living and the dead

Joining the Challenge

Writers who wish to join this year's Inklings Challenge must sign up before teams are assigned on October 1, 2024 by contacting this blog and signing up in one of the following ways:

Reply to this announcement post

Send a direct message to this blog

Leave an ask in this blog's inbox

This blog will reply to all writers who express interest once they are added to this year's participation list. A list of participants will be posted early in September and updated periodically through the month, so participants can make sure their usernames are included if they want to join the challenge, or can contact the blog to remove their username if they no longer wish to participate.

All tumblr users who are on the list on October 1st, 2024 will be assigned to one of the three Inklings Challenge teams on that date.

Posting the Stories

Completed stories can be posted to a tumblr blog anytime after the categories are assigned on October 1st. Writers are encouraged to post their stories–whether finished or incomplete–before the deadline on October 21st, but they can post their stories, or the remainders of unfinished stories, after that date.

All stories will be reblogged and archived on the main Inklings Challenge blog. To assist with organization, writers should tag their posts as follows:

Mention the main Challenge blog @inklings-challenge somewhere within the body of the post (which will hopefully alert the Challenge blog).

Tag the story #inklingschallenge, to ensure it shows up in the Challenge tag, and make it more likely that the Challenge blog will find it.

Tag the team that the author is writing for: #team lewis, #team tolkien, or #team chesterton. 

Tag the genre the story falls under: #genre: portal fantasy, #genre: space travel, #genre: secondary world, #genre: time travel, #genre: intrusive fantasy, #genre: earth travel

Tag any themes that were used within the story: #theme: admonish, #theme: instruct, #theme: counsel, #theme: comfort, #theme: patience, #theme: forgive, #theme: pray

Tag the completion status of the story: #story: complete or #story: unfinished

And that’s the Inklings Challenge! Any questions, comments or concerns that aren’t covered there can be sent to this blog, and I’ll do my best to answer them.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

chaggie vs alastor being a nosy gossip when it comes to potential past break up drama and possible current relationship drama (alastor loses)

Charlie: "Not that I MIND seeing you around, Alastor-"

Vaggie: "I do."

Charlie: "-the hotel is your home too after all-"

Vaggie: "A home. Not a radio exhibit."

Charlie: "-maaaaaybe there's something we can help you with though? Since you've kinda been, errrr, hanging around?"

Vaggie: "Leering."

Charlie: "I get the feeling you wanna ask us something, basically!"

Alastor: "Oh I DO indeed! But you know, you two were just being such a CHARMING little couple, just the PICTURE of young love, I couldn't BEAR to interrupt you~!"

Vaggie: "Great, so fuck off."

Charlie: "We could use some time sitting together without you- or anyone!- staring at us the whole time."

Vaggie: "You can donate that time for free or over your dead body."

Alastor: "Well WELL then! What a CHARMING little offer from a CHARMING little lady!

Vaggie: "You have until three. Two."

Alastor: "I'll just make my inquiries about THIS picture and be on my way!"

Charlie: "What picture- ohhhh THAT picture...."

Alastor: "Familiar, no~?"

Charlie: "Yyyyyyeesssss...."

Vaggie: "Who's the guy that looks like boyband fell in a vat of comic book chemicals? You two look. Close."

Charlie: "Thhhat'ssss my ex boyfriend."

Vaggie: "You're ex?"

Alastor: "Oh REALLY! Do tell~"

Vaggie: "She doesn't have to tell you SHIT, asshole."

Charlie: "No it's okay, it wasn't that bad!"

Charlie: "I mean."

Charlie: "The relationship wasn't great and I didn't even cry after it ended which might be a sign of something maybe although I DID cry about being alone again if that counts.... and, we haven't really talked since breaking up but-"

Vaggie: "I won't kill him, sweetie, but I can stab him for you."

Charlie: "He wouldn't deserve it."

Vaggie: "Ask me if I care."

Charlie: "Heh. It's fine, Vaggie, really. He was perfectly nice to me! We just, didn't make a good pair..."

Alastor: "Pray tell the reason for this apparently INCONSOLABLE mis-match?"

Vaggie: "Alastor I swear-"

Charlie: "I guess it really boils down to him wanting a girlfriend and me wanting a, well, a partner."

Vaggie: "Isn't that what a girlfriend is?"

Charlie: "Mmeh? Not always, I guess?"

Alastor: "Oh will you LOOK at THAT! I have a fresh box of tissues here, and popcorn, and HOURS until my next broadcast~!"

Vaggie: "If you giggle even once over this I'll broadcast my spear right up your-"

Charlie: (laughs) "No you won't, Vaggie."

Vaggie: (whispering) "We don't have to let HIM know that."

Charlie: "Pretty sure he already does? Everyone else in the hotel knows you'd never really shish kabab them or anything."

Vaggie: "Everyone knows?" (drooping) "Are you sure?"

Charlie: "Yep! Niffty was crying about it last week!"

Vaggie: "Well FINE but your ex doesn't live in the hotel, I could at least threaten him."

Charlie: "Empty threat... I think that's why..."

Alastor: (leaning in) "HMMM~?"

Vaggie: (shoving him back) "Why what, babe?"

Charlie: "Why it's different, with you."

Vaggie: "Different?"

Alastor: "SOMEHOW the LESBIANISM isn't different enough already?"

Charlie: "We're partners."

Vaggie: "Yeah?"

Charlie: "Vaggie, we're actually partners."

Vaggie: "I know??"

Charlie: "You listened to the 'Redeem Sinners!' rants and didn't laugh, or doze off, or start messing with your phone half way through my first two-hour long presentation-"

Vaggie: "How could I be messing with my phone when we were recording your practice run?"

Charlie: "-EXACTLY! It was, is, a serious thing for you!"

Vaggie: "Charlie you've seriously been working on this for decades."

Charlie: "And my friends were FINE with that! My friend? Friend singular if we don't count Razzle and Dazzle- my former friend. Whatever! It was okay if I had weird pipe dreams to nowhere, that was totally fine! And when I started dating her brother, he was fine with it to! I was quirky! Silly! Eccentric! Naïve! DUMB!"

Vaggie: "You are not d-"

Charlie: "I know I know! It was FINE!"

Vaggie: "You sound less than fine about it?"

Alastor: "Here it comes~!"

Charlie: "Because 'just fine' sucked ASS."

Vaggie: "Oh..."

Alastor: "OH HO HO!"

Charlie: "It was always just Charlie's dumb little daydream or Charlie wasting her time! Charlie with her dumb head in the heavenly clouds!"

Vaggie: "Oh sweetie, hey-"

Charlie: "It was a quirk he was OKAY WITH. It wasn't that bit a deal! It was a big deal to ME but that was FINE if I didn't waste too much of my time on it, or our time, or his time-

Charlie: "And sure he wasn't laughing in a mean way, I think, probably, but I still HATED when he'd do the amused little oh Charlie's being silly again chuckle!"

Vaggie: "Did you tell him? Did he stop?"

Charlie: "Tell him what? He wasn't doing anything wrong!"

Vaggie: "But Charlie, that's not the point-"

Charlie: "No the point is- HE didn't think he was doing anything wrong treating sinners like immortal chew toys! Everyone else does it! THEY do it to THEMSELVES! And they're damned anyway, Charlie, they're all gonna get killed horribly someday for the shit they did, so what the HELL does it matter!?"

Vaggie: "It matters. You've shown people how much it matters."

Charlie: "No I haven't."

Vaggie: "Yes you have, sweetie. People know better now-"

Charlie: "No they DON'T!"

Charlie: "But you do."

Charlie: "And we're... our hotel is starting to maybe help some people kinda take us a little seriously...."

Charlie: "It's..."

Alastor: "Quite a lot of WE and OUR and US in that last sentence, my dear!"

Vaggie: "No shit, dumbass. We run the damn hotel together."

Charlie: "Yeah. We do."

Alastor: "A fact made while staring at DEAR Vaggie in the most REVOLTINGLY lovesick way, I might add!!"

Charlie: (laughs) "Sorry Alastor- I can't help it."

Charlie: "She's my partner, after all."

Vaggie: (smiles) "It's on my resume."

Alastor: "SICKENING HA HA!"

Vaggie: "Right above girlfriend and hotel manager."

Charlie: (BEAMS)

Vaggie: "I have no idea how anyone could miss out on that chance, honestly."

Charlie: "I'VE no idea how anyone else could ever even come CLOSE to being you, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Well... the guy in the picture is way too tall for starters."

Charlie: (snorts)

Alastor: "FACINATING. You'll both have to excuse me! My stomach is too DELICATE for this PUTRID display of emotional bliss~"

Vaggie: "You eat rotting deer carcasses, Alastor."

Charlie: "EW he WHAT-?"

Charlie: "Ah um! Oh that's....! ERRRRR interesting-?"

Vaggie: "It's gross."

Alastor: "Aue contraire my dears, YOU TWO are the ones who are GROSS~"

Alastor: (fades back into shadows)

Vaggie: "If I told him that trick was getting tacky, think he'd stop?"

Vaggie: "... babe?"

Charlie: "I think...he took the picture?"

Vaggie: "He what."

Charlie: "The picture of my ex, I think he kinda, borrowed it?"

Vaggie: (groans) "WHY is our friend such a creep."

Charlie: (sing-songs) "Be-cause you ha-ven't killed him yyyyet!!!!"

Vaggie: "Maybe tomorrow I will."

Charlie: (smirks)

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: "Look, I can't at least still daydream about it, alright?"

Charlie: "Sure you can." (hugs) "Softie."

Vaggie: "RRgh." (hugs back) "I'm literally only soft with you."

Charlie: "And with our friends."

Vaggie: "Am not."

Charlie: "You are! In your own, special Vaggie way~"

Vaggie: "...."

Charlie: "....which admittedly is mostly about not killing them all in frustration several times a day, but that's a pretty big thing in Hell!!!"

Vaggie: (groans again) (snuggles her)

[art-blogge]

pink thing, cut it down Now

There was a level of caution required when handling any E.G.O. or associated gift. They knew this. There had been enough errors with the Sinners before, enough headaches and everything else-aches to last them a lifetime. They KNEW this.

So when Faust left them for the night, leaving them alone with an E.G.O. to finish Threadspinning, they hesitated on touching it. They knew better than this. If anything happened to them- Their clock, more accurately- It was over for the team.

And yet.

And yet… They had to fall to curiosity eventually. Better this than something like Blind Obsession. A nice, low-ranked EGO that the team-- No. The Sinners knew how to handle easily.

Better write this down before committing.

---- "It's like they vanished!" Rodion exclaimed, broadly gesturing to the office. She hadn't been the first to notice the Manager's absence, but she Was the second loudest. The first loudest would be pummeled for yelling this early in the morning. The first loudest was also snooping around the office, peering in all sorts of places for her missing Manager Esquire. Nope, not in the vent. Nope, not under the desk. Nope, not between the desk and the wall.

"Impossible. They did not leave the Mephistopheles," Faust plainly stated, glancing upwards before walking away. Rodion stared after her while Ishmael irritably huffed.

"She knows something."

"Of course she does, Ishy. She wouldn't be Faust if she didn't."

The two went back to watching Don Quixote check increasingly illogical spots.

"You know, Ishy, Dante left a report behind before going poof."

"Yeah, I saw it. Messing around with an E.G.O.? Have they lost their mind?"

"You're not the bloody paragon of rationality either, lassie."

"Shut up, bastard."

----

An indeterminate amount of time later, Don Quixote had given up exploring, allowing Ishmael and Rodion to check the actually reasonable spots the room offered. She was exhausted, having wasted all of her limited energy on running back and forth. Not really caring if she was in the way, Don Quixote flopped onto her back on the cool carpet.

Ishmael cared Very Much, and started to drag Don Quixote out of the room by the leg. She didn't stop for anything- Not Don Quixote's sudden "AH-HA!" or announcement that she'd been struck with… Whatever the rest of that sentence was.

This left Rodion alone, and she looked up.

"I wasn't gonna hide you forever, Dante. Can't you come down here?"

And gently down they came from the ceiling, lowered by the pink ribbons strapped to every feasible part of them. They didn't quite touch the ground, the Pink Shoes seemingly avoiding a landing.

<"Rodya, I don't want to work,"> Dante quietly ticked. They and the Pink Shoes could do anything they desired. And right now, what Dante desired most was… Taking a break.

Rodion gently pat Dante as they plopped their head on her shoulder. She couldn't relate to Dante completely, but she was an excellent bluffer.

"I know, Dante. We're not going to. Hey, could you make a hammock out of those?"

----

"Rodion, this is absolutely insubordination! Using an E.G.O. in this manner?! Without the Executive Manager's--"

"Chill out, grandma!" Rodion interrupted Outis' bootlicking smoothly, causing Outis to fail the rest of the coin flips and the encounter overall. "Dante's right here. The hammock was my idea but they did it!"

Dante sat up slightly and gave Outis a giddy wave to prove Rodion correct.

<"Hello, Grandma Outis! We're taking a break today! It's quite nice! Very nice!"> they chirped, tilting their head. Pink flames got into Rodion's face, giving her a single count of Offense Down as she fanned them away.

Before Outis could finish regaining her composure from that Stagger, Dante continued speaking, going from cheerful chirps to quick ticks mid-sentence.

<"I don't have to feel like a tool!">

A pause, and then a growl that naturally wouldn't come from their mechanical head.

<"Or all of you idiot's endless pain over and over and ov--">

"Thaaaat's enough, Dante!"

Rodion smacked Dante on the back of the head, completely derailing their train of thought. That didn't stop them from speaking anyway.

<"Anyway, you should join us! I'd like you to! Are you going to deny your Manager?">

Even if Outis believed she had a choice, she absolutely didn't. Lust 31 heads vs 20 Pride heads. Get over here!

----

"Do you mean to tell me one inexperienced Sinner has managed to incapacitate seven others, Faust?"

"Yes. Dante seems to be very adept at controlling this E.G.O., even though they have been handling it for over two hours. There has not been a Sanity drop of more than five since use began."

"You're really tellin' us it's that bloody bad? Why don't you go deal wit' it?"

"Why don't you, Heathcliff?"

And so, Heathcliff groaned and dragged himself out of his seat. Fine. Fine! He'd be the guinea pig again! Whatever those were.

Two slams on the office door with his fist.

"Like it or not, I'm comin' in there!"

The door swung open before he could threaten to break it down.

The Sinners Dante had "incapacitated" were sitting around the room, engaged in various small talk unless their name was Outis. Outis had Actually been incapacitated, strung up and tied down to the chair for her crime of refusing to relax on a work day. That Bind would take a few more turns to wear off if she kept fighting it.

<"Hi, Heathcliff!!"> chimed Dante, scaring Heathcliff by dropping in front of him like a spider in an old mansion. <"Welcome! I don't wanna work so we're not doing that!! Come on in! There's a very cheap fee!">

"Uh," was all Heathcliff could respond with, stepping in before fully realizing the rest of what Dante said.

"What fee?"

Heathcliff was given a tight hug from Dante as a response. See, that he could do. That he could do real good!

"Eight," stated Faust from down the hall, unmoved from her last spot and cleaning glasses that belonged to her 7 Identity while watching vitals. "Physical contact made. Offense Level Down by five."

Vergilius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Once a nuisance, always a nuisance. First them, now Dante. Nuisance. They were lucky they were otherwise tolerable.

----

It wasn't long before all of the Sinners barring Faust were present, not even attempting to work. Dante in particular had stolen Meursault's coat and planted themselves tightly between Yi Sang and Gregor. It was nice. It was warm. They weren't hurting. They were being treated like a person. Had reaching their desires always been this easy?

No.

Dante shook their head. They couldn't fully fall to it. That's how they'd Corrode, and then the fun would be over. They knew this, and the Abnormality seemed to know this too. Some of the mental pressure lifted, letting Dante relax again. Better. They wouldn't mind staying here like this for a while.

They didn't get to stay there long, instead being pulled out of the warmth and into the air.

"Did you think this through, Danteh?"

<"Hi Vergie!!!"> Dante chimed, genuinely pleased to see Vergil. A few Sinners suppressed laughter at Dante's cutesy nickname.

<"Are you joining us? You are, right? Please?">

Dante reached out to try and hug Vergil, only to be foiled by Vergil's arm being longer than theirs- They couldn't reach.

"I don't know what you said, but no. End this."

Dante drooped the way an undernourished plant would, in a way easily called sad.

"This madness needs to end, Executive Manager!" shouted Outis, finally freed from her bindings by Faust. Dante didn't respond to her, instead slowly turning to stare at Faust.

For a few moments they said nothing, like they were studying her. She did the same back, causing a net gain of nothing.

<"Faust. I desire answers."> Dante plainly ticked, already knowing the answer they were going to get.

"No. Kill Faust over it."

Before any Sinners could blink, Faust was bound in ribbons and brought close to Dante. They'd moved… Surprisingly quickly, even considering Vergil was holding them by the ribbons.

<"I don't want to kill you. I refuse. The Abnormality wants blood but I don't.">

Faust was then simply released. The only damage done had been to the smoothness of her sweater, which she fixed. She then looked to Vergil, who hadn't moved. He wasn't affected by Urge, but his Offense Level had certainly tanked from maintaining unprotected contact with a ribbon. She'd have to deal with this herself.

As soon as Dante looked away, she withdrew Walpurgisnacht and slashed through the ribbons Vergil was holding. That was enough to snap him out of whatever light trance he'd been under- A mistake on his part that he knew he'd never hear the end of. Instead of dwelling on that, he went with the flow and took out his own sword. Dante's blare of displeasure went ignored by both of them.

"That's the end of that, it seems," Meursault observed while moving to the side, "We are beginning an Abnormality Suppression."

<"But I don't want to!"> Dante complained, crossing their arms with some difficulty. They didn't seem to realize that THEY were the one about to be suppressed. They looked around for the "Abnormality" and saw nothing but Friends and Ribbons. Dante wasn't at all concerned with the Sinners withdrawing weapons- Why would they be? The Sinners would never target them. They wouldn't. The clock was too important. More important than they would ever be. They weren't important. They--

--They noticed some Sinners slowly edging out of the room, intending to make space for the other Sinners to fight. This caused an immediate train horn to erupt from them as they combination swung and leapt across the room to try and block the door.

<"You're leaving?! Please don't. I don't want to be alone!">

"We will be in your sights, Manager Esquire!" Don Quixote announced after slipping past them, sitting down in the hallway. Dante COULD still see her if they turned their head enough. She was right. They weren't alone if they were in sight… Right?

Someone cut down another ribbon, making Dante whip back around in anger.

<"You're all just going to leave! I won't let you!">

Faust was bound a second time that day, this time far tighter than before. Don Quixote rushed back in to pull her down, pleasing Dante. She came back! Everyone was here!

Time to block the door!!

Ribbons were pulled away from the room and into the doorway, blocking it off. Sinner complaints got completely ignored.

<"Now no one can leave me alone!"> Dante chirped, unaware of how awful that sounded, <"I can't lose anyone if no one leaves!">

Heathcliff groaned and Gregor shook his head. Outis firmly placed her gaze towards the wall and Sinclair did the same.

"Insubordination!" Ishmael announced before launching her harpoon. It cut through several of Dante's left arm ribbons, freeing it and letting it fall limp. Dante shrieked on impact as if the harpoon had impaled them, curling in on themselves as if that'd numb the pain.

<"No no no no no no please no! I don't want to hurt! I don't want to fight! Please no! Please please please!">

They were losing. They were struggling to hold onto coherent thought, the Pink Shoes threatening to win out. The Sinners were all staring at them with the intent to fight (or so Dante believed). One more try to appeal.

<"Please. I don't want any of you to leave. I don't have anyone else. I don't know if I had anyone else. I don't know. I don't know. I don't….">

The ribbons around Dante tightened, eliciting a loud whine from their head. It hurt! It hurt it hurt it hurt!

Oil tinged with pink started leaking from their head like tears. Oh! That was new! They'd never gotten to cry before!

"Should we really be doin' this?" Heathcliff asked uncertainly. He'd definitely heard the way Dante had been talking about themselves recently, and he wanted no part of it. He knew how it felt to be treated like this.

Sinclair raised his hand.

"Manager, you're hurting Faust!"

Dante whipped around to see, and then immediately released her again.

<"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I don't know why that happened! I don't….">

"Now!" someone shouted, and several weapons tore through Dante's ribbons with ease. In the brief moment before hitting the ground, Dante hoped the clock would take more damage than they would. They didn't remember anything else after impact.

--------

"-Severe lacerations. Physical damage to the outside of the clock but none to the internal mechanisms or the hands."

Faust was reporting the incident over the radio when Dante finally showed signs of life- Pulling the blanket they'd been wrapped in over their head to hide their shame. Faust seemed to pause seeing this, causing Dante to peek back out.

"Get that off of your head. You'll overheat."

With that said, Faust went back to reporting.

"I'd like to forward a request for time off--."

"We're getting a break?!" yelled Rodion as she jumped up, sending Gregor to the floor where he thought he belonged.

"Finally! We shalth journey forth not as a company but as do-gooders! And we shalth obtain treasures such as this ice cream!"

Faust stared at them. This wasn't enough, so Vergil cleared his throat. The two loudest Sinners instantly shut up.

"Faust is sorry about the interruptions. As I was saying…"

Faust was sure to step outside this time so she couldn't be interrupted.

"I would like to request time off so that Dante does not mentally break more than they already have. They have finally reached their limit…. Yes, of course. I always keep an eye on them. Could you also request that the current team not be moved to other projects once we've finished- No, no. This is not Faust's idea. You understand. Thank you. I will be in touch again soon."

Call finished, Faust got back onto the Mephistopheles.

"Sad lonely little gremlin bloke," Heathcliff teased, poking Dante's better shoulder, "Soppin' wet bloke who does fuck-all."

<"Piss off, you rabbit,"> Dante teased back before lightly headbutting Heathcliff. <"Dodge this.">

"Oh, good, we're finally killing him," Ishmael added before coming in hot with a pool noodle. Dante only knew what this was because of an incident involving Don Quixote (of course), Charon, and a flooded bathroom.

Outis looked up from wrapping Sinclair's arm wound but said nothing, instead scowling as the younger Sinners started roughhousing right there in front of her.

Also saying nothing was Yi Sang, standing nearby as his seat was currently occupied. He had nothing to add and so added nothing, simply glad to be there and not be beat on mercilessly. He got hit with a pool noodle several times after that as if karma had it out for him specifically. He didn't mind all that much. The karma was Ryoshu, angered about something-or-other, pool noodle on her sword in a brave attempt to stay nonlethal.

Hong Lu attempted to gift Dante a roll of present wrapping ribbon, much to Outis' dismay and Dante's amusement.

"Clockface can be our Christmas tree," Charon muttered, sticking a ribbon bow onto Dante's head.

Vergil kept watching, mostly focused on Dante as they laughed like bell chimes. Tolerable, he'd say if asked.

And if Dante was asked? This was their family. This is exactly where they belonged.

[cyborg-squid]

Slept and reflected on my Canto 7 thoughts some more and stumbled some themes regarding the original Don Quixote and the themes of parent and child they have with Sancho and the Family; this was sparked by DQs panic effect which was something like 'Duty/Responsibility to the Family' (can't find the exact text).

And, while this might not be something I personally agree with, there's this idea and trope that parents, when they have a family, have to give up some of their hobbies or aspirations or the like; we can see that, by the end of DQs story, he has accepted that he has to give up his heroic dreams in order to take care of his Family, believing now that the two can no longer coexist. And knowing, rather accurately, that it was his dream that put his Family in this position to begin with; at the start, his Family didn't really believe in his dreams of human and Bloodfiend coexistence and heroic Fixers, but they were willing to go along with it because they love their Father.

It's a little painful to type this, but the assessment of his dream as being naive is pretty accurate, at least in it's manifestation via La Manchaland, because while he has been able to maintain strong self-discipline in refusing to drink from humans, his Children didn't have that same quality and didn't fully know what they were getting into with being a part of La Manchaland, and the deprivation they would end up being subjected to, all for a cause and dream they didn't truly believe. It's no surprise, then, that they ended up breaking. The Children, even though they're not being forced per se, go along with it in order to make their Father happy, without fully knowing what it would entail.

And by the time of the final boss fight, DQ knows this, sees the suffering his childish dream has wrought upon his family, and is now ready to bear the responsibility of taking care of them, as well as the responsibility for their sins, which (in his eyes) means the final abandonment of his long held dream. Our Don Quixote has most often been depicted as a childish one, but it is La Manchaland's Don Quixote that now has an arc depicting a reaching of maturity, albeit a stunted sort. Like I said earlier, the idea that being a parent, starting a family, means letting go of your past dreams...

...but he really didn't need to. Because DQ's dream of peace, tomorrow, and of Fixers, which he first inherited from Bari, were successfully passed on to Sancho, even if she didn't recognize it at first. It's not something that grew naturally in her, it seems, as she ended up being the more 'realist' one than DQ in the past (in the present Canto these positions are reversed), but they're present nonetheless, and that belief is stronger in her than it is in others of the Family, likely because she was the one with a stronger bond to their Father Don Quixote, as well as becoming closer to Bari, the originator of said dream.

Because with Sancho, the belief in the dream isn't innate or 'natural' to her, we see that the world of the City is not an easy place for dreams of peace and justice to exist in, but she believes in and loves her Father (and dear friend Bari), who believed in that dream, and thus she will continue on that adventure in his stead. Because there is also this idea of parents living vicariously through their children, or children carrying on the legacy of their parents. La Manchaland's Don Quixote, as shackled, by duty and responsibility, to the past as he now is, is unable to move forward as he once could, but Sancho, our Don Quixote, is still able to, thanks in large part to the gifts and dreams he gave her (as well as the aid of the Sinners, in helping her realize that the dream is not yet ended), and will now move forward in his stead.

[anthurak]

So here’s a Hazbin Hotel theory that I’m honestly surprised I haven’t seen posited up to now:

There’s been a lot of discussion on whether Vaggie is a Human Sinner like the show has so far presented, or if she’s actually a Fallen Angel/Former Exorcist.

Well, what if BOTH of these are true?

Because what if the Exorcists are actually Human Sinners?

Specifically, the Exorcists are human souls that have been specifically singled out by heaven and ��offered’ a chance at ‘redemption’. If they will simply act as Exorcists to cull the other human sinners.

It could be that the Exorcists represent a twisted take on the concept of Purgatory. That these humans died only to be greeted by an angel who tells them that they aren’t as bad as the ‘real’ sinners who get sent to hell, but they also aren’t quite good enough to be accepted into heaven. But good news! There’s a way for them to prove their ‘worthiness’; they just need to sign up as an Exorcist and kill off a bunch of real sinners and once they’ve done enough, they get to go to heaven for really realsies.

Of course it’s all just a sham. None of the Exorcists ever get to heaven because heaven has no intention of accepting them.

As we’ve seen with the angels, you either live up to their EXTREMELY specific and exacting standards, or don’t. These humans have already been barred from heaven and they always will be.

Instead, this whole system has been set up because the angels simply don’t want to go down to a place as icky and dirty as Hell to do the yearly culling. So they set up a way to outsource the extermination to a bunch of humans to do the job for them so they don’t have to get their own hands dirty.

It could be that Adam is the only ACTUAL angel among the Exorcists, with the rest being humans juiced up on divine power. Which of course could tie in perfectly with how he laughs off Charlie’s plan to ‘redeem’ sinners. He KNOWS heaven will never take them because he’s been dangling ‘redemption’ in front of the Exorcists for centuries.

And despite having been stuck doing this job for decades if not centuries, NONE of the Exorcists have caught on to the fact that heaven doesn’t actually care about them or has any interest in accepting them. Because they’re all still clinging to the blind hope, or rather faith, that EVENTUALLY they’ll be rewarded. As well as the belief that while they may be shut out of heaven (or possibly even stuck in hell themselves), they’re still better than the ‘real’ sinners. Because they’re special. Because Heaven chose them.

At least until one particular Exorcist had a chance encounter with a certain Princess of Hell…

Also, Adam being the only ‘real’ Angel among the Exorcists could itself possibly lead to a MASSIVE piece of dramatic irony: Adam himself might be a fallen angel given the task of overseeing the yearly culling of sinners with the promise that he’d eventually be let back into heaven. Even though heaven has no actual intention of taking him back. Making Adam no different than the human exorcists he thinks himself so much better than.

All in all, given how weird, creepy and enigmatic the Exorcists have been portrayed in the promotional material, I think it’s easy to imagine we’re going to get some kind of big reveal of a twisted and tragic ‘true’ nature of them.

[offshore-brinicle]

Little personal Limbus theory that I've been working on for some time is that the Limbus Sinners' inciting indicents that led them down the path of joining the company, being the moment when their wish was born, all happened at the same time 3 years before the current story.

Thanks to some old leaks where people managed to dig up three of the Sinners' unobstructed profiles, we know Yi Sang and Sinclair's official ages are 29 and 20 respectively. Remove 3 years from that:

Yi Sang would have been 26, which is the age the narrator of The Wings claims to be, after leaving his wife behind once and for all and pressumably commiting suicide by jumping off the rooftop of a department store. 26 is the real Yi Sang's age at the time of his death as well, after his tuberculosis worsened imprisioned by the Japanese forces, so this means most likely he's left N Corp behind 3 years prior, avoiding such a fate, be it either death by his own hands in despair or torment at the hands of Hermann since she seems to threaten him with torture.

Sinclair on the other hand would have been 17 which aligns with him still being in high school when the incident with Kromer happened and also mentions in his observation log for Kromer that she has grown slightly taller since the last time they met, however what was of him and how he had survived for so long taking in count he woke up in the Backstreets after his family's murder is still a mystery.

Now recently, not only the Pequod crew speculate that they have been trapped inside The Whale for 3 years, but we get direct confirmation that Limbus!Heathcliff is from the Wuthering Heights timeskip thanks to his Queequeg ID.

The first one is pretty self-explenatory, they say it themselves, though it's dubious how true this is since they have no way of tell the passage of time inside the whale and even the woman who says this sounds somewhat unsure, and Pip who was a young child in Ishmael's memory still looks the same when we see him again in the present and it's difficult to say if this is a side effect of the Pallidfication. (on the other hand I am impressed at the growth rate of Ishmael's hair for being only 3 years)

On the other hand, Heathcliff's Queequeg ID mentions the event that led him to run away from Wuthering Heights in the original novel; he overhears Catherine saying to Nelly that marrying him would be "a disgrace to her", so driven by his anger and heartbreak he ran away, making his own fortune elsewhere so that he would return to the state seeking vengeance and to become someone who Catherine would be willing to marry. This had been implied before through his general behavior and his mugshot showing him still shabby and bruised as well as his N Corp story, but this leaves no room for questioning.

All of this means that if we go by the book, at least 3 years have passed since he left Wuthering Heights and Canto VI which is next and dedicated to him would correspond with Heathcliff's return to Wuthering Heights both in Limbus' story and in the book, meaning Catherine is most likely still alive, yet Heathcliff as a Sinner in Limbus Company is a far cry from the newly powerful version of Heatchliff that returns to the state in the book, so it's likely things will play out not quite the same.

Faust's line in the Walpurgisnacht cutscene says that the standard extraction timeline range is limited to 3 years between the past and future.

In this cutscene she also says that the extractions are powered by possibility itself, and the IDs that become available are also influenced by the Sinners' experiences at the company and how they come to reconsider themselves and each other, that's how for example we get N Corp. Sinclair and Spicebush Yi Sang after being faced with Kromer digging at Sinclair and telling him about the world where they work together, and then Yi Sang being so strongly affected internally by Dongbaek's death and ultimate fate, which would be the most intense story-focused examples so far, and if we eventually get a Captain Ahab ID for Ishmael, they had already established she was down the path of becoming another Ahab, and she herself did not realize this until they met again.

If all of the Sinners' great choices that led them down the path they are currently all happened 3 years ago and the initial extraction range is 3 years, it would make sense, since these would be the moments that weight on their mind most strongly, though there's also the case of Outis who has been on her own journey for at least 10 years going by the original Odyssey and how long ago The Smoke War was, same case for Gregor who's specific motives for joining are still unknown.

[fairysluna]

SINNERS — Chapter 2

After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed with her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!OC.

Summary: The sudden departure of Aenelys and Maegor leaves the Queen and King with their hands tied, the rumours of their sinful relationship grow with their absence while they both are too busy getting used to their new home to see the consequences of their actions.

Tags/TW: incest, age gap (9 years), cursing, profanity, manipulation, violence towards oc, mentions of rape, the faith being a pain in the ass.

Word Count: 4.6k

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Her big doe eyes were filled with curiosity and admiration as she was trying to look everywhere at the same time, not wanting to miss any little detail of the gorgeous palace where they were walking through. The decorations were paintings, vases, sculptures and other valuable things that were worthy of everyone's attention. 

Maegor was holding her waist, keeping her close to him as they walked, whoever saw them might think he was scared of someone pulling her out of his arms and taking her away. They were being escorted by a group of guards, Aenelys deduced that they were a group of Unsullied, for they barely looked at them while they were guiding them through the hallways. 

They took a turn, and Aenelys stopped for a second after being witness to the decoration in the walls. Maegor immediately noticed this small action, and he looked down at her without even noticing her red cheeks. 

"Come on, dove," he softly said, as he started to push you forward to continue. 

A blush ran to her cheeks once her mind made sense of the shapes of the tapestries; erotic figures of couples in different positions that woke her curious mind and took her to wonder how those things would feel. Some of those positions seemed uncomfortable, painful even. Her lack of knowledge in the matter had her feeling flustered, which became worse once her innocent curious eyes fell on the masculine shape of her uncle's body. 

She felt her breath hitch once her mind played tricks on her, showing her images of her and Maegor in situations similar to those hanging from the wall. She imagined his big hands roaming around her tiny body, touching those places of her skin where not even her dared to touch. She imagined his lips pressing against her warmth, kissing her everywhere. 

She forced herself to look away from him, now feeling the guilt of having those thoughts involving him in such a compromising way. 

When she least expected it, they arrived in a room where a tall and sturdy old man was waiting for them. He was wearing a kind smile and looking at the both of them with gentle eyes. Aenelys looked at his clothes and that was enough to realize that this man was disgustingly rich; his robes were made with the most divine and exquisite silks of Essos, his white hair and beard were perfectly trimmed, and his neck, fingers and wrists were wrapped with bands made of pure gold. 

He was just a few inches shorter than Maegor, but he was still taller than her. 

Aenelys stopped her pace and Maegor stood in front of her. The unknown man gave them a small bow and then he spoke, 

"My prince," he started, "dear friend of mine, how glad I am to finally have you back in my home." He stretched his arm, and Maegor took his hand shaking it in a formal way, but his treatment seemed to be more friendly towards him now. The words of the old man left quite clear that it was not the first time they have seen each other. "I see you came with company… Who's this gorgeous young girl?" 

Maegor took a step aside, presenting her to his old friend. She felt all the eyes falling on her body, and she looked for her uncle's hand for comfort; just as she used to do when she was a child. Maegor smiled, pleased with that action. 

"This is my niece, princess Aenelys."

Aenelys looked at the floor, she tried to lie to herself and say she was not disappointed with the way he introduced her; she was expecting something else, some sweet words that would help him claim how dearly he loved her, or perhaps something that might have shown his intentions to actually marry her. Instead, he said that; words that were pronounced with a neutral voice, showing no feelings nor emotions. 

Perhaps she was living through false and unrealistic expectations, but she didn't know better. 

"It is my greatest pleasure being in front of you, my princess," the old man said, bowing to her now. "Allow me to introduce myself; I'm Ser Vyros Nahar, but please just call me Vyros." 

He grabbed her hand and pulled it closer to his lips as he left a soft and elegant kiss on it. A gesture that visibly bothered the prince, who softly frowned after being witness to that small action, especially after she smiled kindly back at the old man. 

"The pleasure is all mine, Vyros…" she spoke softly. 

"Allow me to introduce you to my son, Draqos, who would be more than pleased to be your guard during your stay in Braavos, my princess."

The young dark haired man took a step forward and leaned over to grab the princess' hand. Before he could even touch her, Maegor stepped in between them and frowned upon the man, who was slightly taller than him, but slimmer. Aenelys looked at her feet, showing herself submissive towards the action of her beloved uncle; Draqos had no choice but to step back. 

"That will not be necessary, Vyros. I'm capable of protecting my niece."

Maegor looked at Draqos with a deadly stare that would perfectly threaten anyone, but he did not bend. Draqos stood tall as his deep green eyes turned to the princess and a small smirk appeared on his handsome face. The prince took this as an insolent action that did nothing but anger him more. 

"My prince, I'm sure you will not have time to take care of your niece at every moment," he explained, "the nights are dangerous in this part of the city, beautiful girls like your niece might be at risk if she's not well protected."

Those words seemed to cause some kind of distraught to the prince, who stared at his friend with complete anger after he doubted his ability to protect her. His jaw clenched, and his back straightened as his tone changed to one somewhat sterner. "Do you not see me fit to protect my niece, friend?" He spoke angrily, almost grunting. A tone that Aenelys had heard him use many times to multiple people, except for her.

"I mean no offense, my prince. You're a fine warrior that is certain, but I've known you for years, your nights will be quite different from hers, you will not be here to protect her."

Aenelys knew what those words meant. She was not dumb or stupid to ignore the fact that her beloved uncle had needs that needed to be satisfied. She knew perfectly well that there would be nights where she would see her uncle surrounded by women with giant smiles, and voluptuous bodies; but some part of her wished and thought things would be different. She thought that she was going to be his only company, as well as he was going to be hers. 

Oh, such a silly thing to think. 

Maegor took a deep breath as he turned around to see his beautiful niece already looking up at him. He stared at her violet eyes, staring at him with the same devotion as always. Maegor thought of her as someone loyal, someone who will never disappoint him; he knew she was deeply in love with him, and he knew that no man in the world would be able to take her heart out of his hands, not even this gallant man called Draqos, who seemed to be quite interested in the princess, for his eyes never left her angelic features. 

He grabbed her face with the same delicacy he saved only for her. Aenelys leaned towards his touch, almost purring at it. Maegor found himself convinced about his thoughts, she already belonged to him for eternity and that subtle gesture of hers was enough proof to know it certainly. She was his, only his. 

"Would you like that, dove?" He whispered as his eyes locked with hers. Aenelys' puppy eyes glistening with the sight of him. Gods she was so lost on him, "is it fine for you?" 

Aenelys nodded softly, a subtle movement that Maegor only perceived because he was close enough to see it. He leaned a little, just enough to brush his nose against hers and make her feel the closeness of his lips. She basically drooled, so enamored by him that it looked pathetic. 

The multiple pair of eyes looked at them unimpressed by that action. Ser Vyros even smiled tenderly as he stared at them. Aenelys did not let that slide, she noticed how there was no disgusted look on their faces after seeing such a scene, something that would definitely happen if they were in the West side of the world. It was in that moment when she thought she had made the right choice, escaping from the judgmental stares of the Westerosi people who were too blind to understand it; to understand them. Aenelys knew that this new era in their lives would lead towards her much desired happy ending, away from the people that would frown upon a relationship they would never empathize with. 

She thought about it, being Maegor's wife was her long time goal in life since she had memories of her childhood. She knew the customs of her family would make it easier for her to marry him, even when he already had a wife… but it was a woman that he did not love, a woman he did not even like. 

Now there was their chance —her chance— to prove to him that she will be able to make him happy, to satisfy him. They were free of discernment, no one would say something about them and the weird relationship that had been so questioned back at home. 

Aenelys smiled at the people around her, and she was determined to make this place her new home. 

Across the Narrow Sea, things were crumbling into pieces inside the Red Keep. Queen Alyssa was raging once the news of her beloved daughter's absence reached her ears, completely lost in the despair of not knowing her whereabouts. 

“This is your fault!” She would scream at her husband, “if you would’ve exiled him before, our child would be here with us!” The tears were falling down her face as she was panting, “Now she’s out there, with your brother! Only the Gods know what kind of atrocities he would make her do…”

My poor child, she thought, wiping and crying out loud as she walked around the room in despair. King Aenys was trying to be serene, but the threatening words of his brother came back to his mind as he saw this as Maegor’s revenge for wanting him out of the castle. Aenys did not want to share that piece of information with his wife, because he knew that all this happened because of him.

He could have done many things to prevent this mess from happening, but he did nothing more than underestimate his young brother. Now these were the consequences of it, his daughter kidnapped by her uncle in foreign lands where she has never been. 

But when the guards arrived, King Aenys knew he was wrong. He had misjudged his brother, and his daughter. 

“Gaelithox is nowhere to be seen, Your Grace.” One of them spoke, the Queen walked closer to the group of guards, her eyes widened with confusion. “Neither is Balerion.”

“It is quite rare that he kidnapped her and let her take her dragon with them.” Aenys pointed out. 

Alyssa looked at him scandalized, with an horrified stare. “So you’re suggesting that our daughter willingly left King’s Landing with that… uncouth man?” She spat the last words, rage running down her veins, “How can you even suggest such a thing? She is our girl!”

“She is a woman, my Queen.” He softly spoke, “She is not a girl anymore.”

“We shall look for her.” Alyssa said. She turned to the guards and looked at them with despair in her eyes. She would completely deny the fact that her daughter might willingly leave her side. It was impossible, Aenelys would never do that. “Please, reunite the tropes and prepare the ships. I want you to go to Essos and look at every piece of land you see… I want my daughter back and the head of Maegor be put on a spike.”

“You shall not do such a thing.”  Aenys said, the guards and the Queen looked at him with disbelief. 

Queen Alyssa walked towards him, her eyes red with tears as she was breathing fast. She could not believe her husband did not care about the safety of their first child, and let her be out there without help. She might be in danger, Maegor was a ruthless man. As far as the Queen knows, he might have done indescribable things to her daughter by now.

“We must do something!” She insisted, “Bring my daughter back!”

“There is a big possibility that Aenelys left King’s Landing because she wanted to do it.” Aenys said, “If we tried to go and get her, we do not know what Maegor is capable of doing.”

Then it hit her. The Queen stared at her husband with her jaw clenched after hearing those words; words that made her realize what was actually happening here. The mere thought made her scoffed while she shook her head in disapproval, her lips forming an ironic smile that contrasted with her soaking cheeks.

“You are afraid of him…” She claimed, “You are not scared of what he might do to Aenelys you are scared of what he might do to you if you dare to pull our daughter away from him.”

“Alyssa, my dear-”

“He threated you, did he not?” Alyssa interrupted. His silence did nothing but to prove that what she had thought was true. “How can you even call yourself a king?!” She yelled, blinded by rage and distress, “How are you planning to protect the Seven Kingdoms when you barely can protect your own daughter?!”

The guards did not even dare to move after such an altercation, and Aenys looked at her shocked; not angry, not mad, just shocked. Of course he knew he had to do something after Maegor threatened him, but he never did because he never thought his own brother would do something like this. He trusted in him too much that now he was facing the consequences of it. 

Queen Alyssa soon left the room, fuming and crying desperate for her lost daughter. A couple of guards followed her, and when they were far enough from the King, she stopped them and spoke.

“I want a ship leaving for Essos in the morning. You will find my daughter and bring her here, where she belongs. Understood?” The guards nodded obediently.

When the next day arrived, a group of guards left Westeros in a fleet of three ships. King Aenys never found out.

The rumors around the castle were echoing louder with each hour passing. The absence of Aenelys and Maegor was noticeable, and the servants did not take too much time to spread the word to the entirety of King’s Landing. People were whispering in the hallways that Maegor kidnapped the Princess to rape her, to force her to marry him; others said that the Princess left willingly in her dragon in order to marry him. The other theory is that she was with child, and her own parents had sent her away to avoid the disgrace that those news would bring to the family.

Whatever the truth was, the Faith did not take long to find out about the situation, and the ravens started to fly across the continent from Oldtown to King’s Landing. The Grand Maester Gawen was the one delivering the news; the Faith had given a warning to the King, to stop the rumor of her daughter being a sinner, or else the Faith will take justice with their own hands. The High Septon did not allow incest, claiming it was an abomination that was going to ruin the Seven Kingdom. Sister and brothers, uncles and nieces or aunt and nephews marrying each other should be punished, for the Seven would never allow this kind of profanity. The King had his hands tied, even if he gets Aenelys back, his new husband would be her brother… and that was not a solution for the Faith. 

Soon, the small folk, who once loved their King, started to blame him for the disappearance of their beloved princess. The servants and the spiders within the walls were responsible for misleading the information and after a few days all of King’s Landing were claiming that the King had given away his first child, Princess Aenelys, to his brother Maegor in order to keep him in line. Of course that was far away from the truth.

And that is how everything went to pieces. His daughter had begun something that soon was getting out of control. King Aenys started to lose his allies. The people who once loved him started to hate him for a lie, and the Faith was starting to chase him for the same thing. A week after the disappearance of Maegor and Princess Aenelys, the Faith declared war in the name of the Seven and the weak King started to decay. 

Across the Narrow Sea, however, Aenelys was oblivious of everything that was happening back at home. In Braavos she had found a new home that had the same accommodations that she had back in Westeros. Maegor had made sure that she had a good group of servants and maidens that would keep her company in the days where he was not able to be by her side. 

But now Maegor was sitting on a large sofa. He was drinking a cup of exquisite wine while he was watching Aenelys on the balcony of their new home. She would be there every evening, watching the city and the sea that was beside it as she drank her tea. She was asking herself how her family was doing… a part of her was missing them terribly, but the other part of her was content that she was able to be with Maegor, even when it wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

When Aenelys arrived in Essos she had the dream that her uncle would have the intention to marry her or at least to make her a woman. She is no fool, she is actually quite curious, which is why she has come across a few books that speak about pleasure and marriage… she was expecting something as such. But, in reality, Maegor has not changed his treatment towards her. He has not kissed her, he has not even touched her beyond a small hug. Aenelys tried not to show her disappointment, but it was clearly visible sometimes, Maegor just decided to ignore it.

The only thing that has changed, is that now they share a bed, but still Maegor would not even hold her close to his body at night when the coldness and the freezing wind of the East made her shiver between the sheets. There were nights where he would not even sleep in the bed at all, for he was spending his time in brothels or with hired whores in other rooms of the palace where they were staying; they were a gift from Ser Vyros. 

Aenelys came to realize how thin the walls were; for she was able to hear during the night how her uncle would pleasure those women without shame or intentions to hide his profanity. Her heart would ache, her body would curl up in the bed as she cuddled with the blankets and silk sheets, closing her eyes and trying so hard to ignore the sound that those women would make. They were tortuous nights, filled with nightmares and subtle tears that would soak her rosy cheeks; feeding the imminent jealousy that would grow inside her chest. 

She found herself in the balcony once again, the midday sun rays hitting on her milky skin and making it look paler than it already was. A white dress she was wearing, Maegor would always make her wear that color, claiming that it made her eyes look even more beautiful. There was no cup of tea between her hands now, for her mind was too busy repeating the previous nights as a constant poison contaminating her senses and making her upset. Her lip would quiver every now and then as the itch on her nose would announce the upcoming tears that she would miserably try to hold back. Her discontent was visibly obvious to everyone who possessed at least one working eye; she was being miserable… too heartbroken to even realize about the presence of her uncle in the room. 

Maegor immediately perceived something was wrong with her, usually the smell of his cologne would be enough for her to turn around and flash him with the most innocent and gorgeous smile. This time, there was nothing as such, he found her naked back and her unbraided silver hair instead of her pretty, doe eyes. 

He cautiously walked towards her, his heavy shoes being dragged on the floor carpet which muffled his steps. He grabbed one of the chairs close to the entrance of the balcony and sat there, his thick legs spreading open as his hand, which was carrying a glass of fine Dornish wine, remained on the armrest. He cleared his throat, and saw how the girl sank in her position after hearing the sudden noise that ended the silence. 

“I can perceive you are not content this morning, my beautiful dove,” he began, his eyes examining the small frame of his niece. “What troubles you? Are you missing home already?”

She looks at her bare feet, shaking her hand as she, inevitably, steps closer to him. It was as if she was unable to keep herself apart from him when they were in the same room. 

“There is something that bothers me a bit,” she confessed, shyly, her voice sounding as soft as a caress. 

Maegor leaned back, and Aenelys looked at him up and down. A thin, loose, white shirt was covering his wide and thick chest. The blonde, almost invisible, hairs were decorating his skin. The poor girl felt the blush running into her cheeks at the sight, especially after having intrusive thoughts about him. Lustful ideas flood her mind making her weak in the knees.

“Tell me, dove,” he asked her, gently reaching for her hand and pulling her closer to him. She was standing between his legs as he hand went now to her hip. 

Aenelys took a deep breath that came out too shaky for her taste. She was nervous not only because she was about to confess something to him, but also because his big hand was touching her. It barely let her think, she felt embarrassingly dumb. 

“What- what you do with those women,” she told him, “I don’t like it.”

Maegor frowned, “what thing?”

The next words caused her some struggle as she fought the shyness within her to be able to pronounce them. “Bedding them,” she murmured. 

The man chuckled, “you don’t like it?” He repeated her previous words with a playful smirk on his devilish features. She nodded. “Why?”

“It’s not-” she interrupted herself, taking a deep breath and using it as an excuse to think about a proper answer. “I don’t like the idea of them… touching you.”

“And you wish for me to stop doing it?” He asked. She nodded once again. “But, darling, if I don’t practice with them, how am I supposed to know how to please you?” 

Her eyes widened with surprise, her breathing becoming unsteady. “Me?” 

Maegor smiled, a mischievous gesture that had her drooling all over again. He pulled her even closer, and in a sudden movement he lifted her up to make her sit on his lap. It was a quick, agile move; he barely put effort in such an action. Aenelys was unable to hide the rouge on her cheeks, feeling the hands of the man she loved sneaking under her dress to caress her thighs. Her eyes became blurry as she dreamed awake. Would he finally claim her as his?

“You are supposed to give me children once we marry, my dove, and during the process I want you to feel the same amount of pleasure as I will feel.”

He felt how she subtly shook under his touch, sighing as if he had just told him the greatest news of her life. Her lilac orbes being clouded by the so usual dreamy glow.

“Marry me?” She asked in a whisper, “you… you plan on doing so?”

“Well, of course,” he shrugged, “why else do you think I brought you with me?” 

“But wouldn’t it be better if you practice with… me?” she doubtfully said the last word. To which Maegor’s smile started to vanish. 

“Oh, my sweet dove,” he cooed. His hands moving dangerously close to her core, his thumbs rubbing against her inner thighs. “You’re not ready for me, yet. You’re far too innocent and perfect for me to ruin you now.”

“But-”

“Uh, uh,” he quickly silenced her, and she pressed her lips. “You will be a good girl, and you will wait for me.”

“But I don’t want you to be with those women anymore,” she quickly claimed. Her lips pouting as her eyes became teary now. 

Maegor closed his eyes as he scoffed, he was starting to lose his patience. His big hands squeezed her thighs a bit too harsh; her response was a gasp of surprise as one of his hands reached her jaw as he forced her to look at his eyes without escape. Aenelys frowned upon this odd gesture towards her, and her doe eyes soon turned into ones filled with a mixture of confusion and fear. Maegor was not able to control his strength, causing a bit of harm in the delicate skin of his niece.

“Stop this, Aenelys, stop acting like a child,” he whispered, his heavy breathing hitting against her quivering lips. “I will not accept orders from you, I have already told you my reasons; you may or may not believe me… but just stay out of what does not concern you.”

She let out a shaky breathing before pushing herself away from him. Aenelys stood up with her knees trembling and the tears soaking her cheeks. Her eyes stared at him with a new light, Maegor noticed it almost instantly, and that is when he knew he had ruined his plans. He had scared her. The poor girl’s hand went to touch her sore jaw, which now had the fingertips of the man printed on her delicate skin. 

“Aenelys…” He said, standing up and trying to reach for her. She just took a step back, making him sigh. “Aenelys, please-”

“I should’ve stayed,” she whispered. Her voice was broken and filled with hurt. 

Maegor laughed with irony, “you have a dragon, if you want to leave, then leave. I am not forcing you to be here.”

His words only broke her more. She had to bite her lip to avoid a sob to escape her, it was too painful. 

She did not say anything else. She just turned around, still covering her jaw with her hand and she just walked away from him. Maegor rolled his eyes as he sat back on the chair, drinking his wine in one sip. The empty cup soon was thrown across the room, causing a thunderous sound that echoed in the room. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he said. 

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