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insomniac4000 · 4 days ago

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Disney Dreams- ChrisMD

Y/N and Chris Dixon had been friends for years—YouTube collaborators, office neighbours, and the kind of duo that fans always speculated about but never had enough evidence to confirm. Their chemistry had always been obvious, but there was always just enough plausible deniability to keep the rumours at bay.

Until now.

They had been dating for a few months—quietly, privately, and without the usual social media fanfare that accompanied most YouTuber relationships. It wasn’t that they were hiding it, exactly. They just weren’t announcing it. They were happy in their little bubble, and neither of them was in any rush to let the world in.

But the world was persistent. And observant.

It began with little things. Subtle changes. Y/N, who had spent years joking about being unlucky in love, stopped making those comments in her videos. Chris, who had previously thrown self-deprecating remarks about being forever single, did the same. Their respective audiences picked up on it almost immediately.

Then came the sightings.

A fan spotted them in a pub, leaning in close over their drinks, engaged in what seemed to be a deep conversation. But there was nothing definitive—no touching, no overt signs of romance. Just two friends, as they had always been. The sighting went semi-viral on Twitter, but without hard proof, it remained just speculation.

Then George Clarkeey unintentionally fanned the flames further on The Useless Hotline podcast. In the middle of a conversation about household accidents, he casually mentioned that he’d tripped over a pair of Y/N’s shoes in his and Chris’s flat.

The internet went into a frenzy.

Chris and Y/N had never officially confirmed they spent time at each other’s places, let alone that Y/N had left personal belongings at Chris’s. It was still possible that it was innocent—maybe she just visited a lot. Maybe she left her shoes there after a long editing session. But to their fans, this was another piece of the puzzle, another brick in the growing wall of evidence.

Yet, none of it was conclusive. None of it proved anything definitively.

Then came Disneyland.

Y/N had planned the Disneyland trip for months. It was meant to be a special treat for her two young nieces, she had promised them the trip after she had been away filming for both of their respective birthdays. The oldest Maddie was eight and her younger sister Rosie was six. Y/N’s older brother was the only family she had left so her nieces were incredibly dear to her, she saw them often and she was just as excited about the trip as they were. She hadn’t initially planned on Chris coming along, but when she mentioned it to him, he lit up with excitement.

“What if we take a trip soon? Just me and you,” Chris suggested leaning on the breakfast bar as he watched his girlfriend effortlessly whip up two omelettes for their breakfast.

“Good idea, I can’t do the last weekend of the month though, I’m taking Rosie and Maddie away,” Y/N explained as she dished up the eggy treats.

“Alone? You’re brave.”

“I owe them. I missed their birthdays so I promised them a trip to Disneyland Paris and I always keep my promises as an aunt.”

“You’re taking them to Disneyland Paris?” he had asked. Let me come,” he said immediately. “I’ll be the best uncle they’ve ever had.”

“Really? I never had you down as a Disney adult.”

“I’m not but it’s all about the kids right? I think it could be fun,” Chris suggested and Y/N blushed a little, the fact he was so willing to be a part of her family warmed her heart.

And he was. From the moment they arrived, Chris was fully in “fun uncle” mode—carrying one of the girls on his shoulders, lining up with them to meet princesses, and hyping them up before every ride. Y/N couldn’t stop smiling the entire day, seeing him effortlessly bond with her family.

"Alright, princesses," Chris announced as they walked through the entrance of Disneyland, "welcome to the most magical place on Earth."

Maddie, holding Chris’s hand, beamed up at him. "You mean besides Auntie Y/N’s house?"

Chris smirked. "Exactly. But only because she stocks better snacks."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully and adjusted the Minnie Mouse ears Rosie had insisted she wear. "So, what’s the first ride, girls?"

"Big Thunder Mountain!" Maddie cheered.

"But we promised Rosie we’d meet the princesses first," Y/N reminded them and the older girl nodded in understanding knowing she’d get to do her choice later on.

Chris grinned and knelt to Rosie’s level. "And which princess are you most excited to meet?"

"Rapunzel!" Rosie said with absolute certainty.

"Good choice," he nodded solemnly. "Long hair, loves adventure—sounds a bit like your Auntie Y/N." He added with a bit of a smirk

Y/N nudged him with her hip. "Except I don’t have a frying pan as a weapon."

Chris leaned in. "Yet."

The morning was filled with rides, princess meet-and-greets, and an endless supply of Mickey shaped snacks. At one point, while Y/N went to grab coffee, Chris found himself on a mission—helping Rosie trade pins with cast members.

"You’ve got an eye for the rare ones," Chris said as Rosie exchanged a pin with a kind cast member.

"That’s because I watch videos about it," she said matter-of-factly. "And because you’re my good luck charm!"

Y/N returned to find Chris proudly showing off the ‘best trade ever’ that Rosie had made—a rare Rapunzel pin. "Look at you, Chris. Already spoiling them rotten."

Chris feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you mean."

“Come on it’s time for lunch,” Y/N replied with a smile, grabbing a hold of her nieces hands.

As they sat at a restaurant, munching on Mickey shaped pizza, Maddie leaned on Chris’s arm. "Uncle Chris, when are you gonna marry Auntie Y/N?"

Chris nearly choked on his drink. Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned to the girls. "Maddie!"

"What?" Maddie shrugged. "You already act like it."

Rosie nodded, swinging her legs. "Yeah, and Uncle Chris is always at your house."

Chris recovered quickly, grinning at Y/N. "Well, she is pretty great."

Y/N’s face flushed as she focused on her garlic bread. "Eat your food, girls."

Maddie and Rosie exchanged knowing looks, giggling.

After lunch they met Mickie Mouse to let their food digest before they went on more rides. Chris was half traumatised by It’s A Small World.

“That bloody song is going to be in my head all day,” he grumbled.

“But look how happy they are!” Y/N pointed to her nieces smiling faces “Plus it’s no worse then Taylor Swift.”

“Hey! Don’t diss Taylor!” Maddie protested in Chris’s defence and Y/N just rolled her eyes knowing there was no chance she was going to win against the pair of them.

By the time the fireworks had rolled around in the evening everyone was well and truly exhausted but they were determined to last through the day. Chris was holding Rosie while Maddie was leaning into Y/N as the four watched the castle and sky light up while music from the films played in the background. The group were so caught up in the morning they had failed to notice the person with a camera to their left.

A blurry photo was uploaded to Twitter that evening, showing Chris and Y/N standing together in front of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. Y/N’s youngest niece was on his hip, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck, while her older niece was holding onto Y/N’s hand, beaming at the sight in front of her. Chris, notably, was wearing a Disneyland hoodie that perfectly matched the one Y/N had on. The caption simply read:

“Oh. My. God.”

The internet exploded.

Comments flooded in immediately.

“There’s no way this isn’t confirmation.”

“Chris at Disneyland with Y/N’s nieces?? That’s not a ‘just friends’ thing.”

“This is actually adorable, I can’t even be mad.”

“Remember when George said Y/N’s shoes were at Chris’s flat? IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.”

Some tried to argue that it still wasn’t definitive proof. Maybe Chris was just a really good friend. Maybe he just happened to be in Disneyland at the same time. Maybe—

But even the skeptics were struggling. It was too perfect, too telling. Y/N, the fiercely independent woman who had been burned in past relationships, wouldn’t just bring any guy on a special trip with her nieces. And Chris, who had never even given a hint about any love for Disney, wouldn’t just tag along unless it mattered.

Theories flew across social media. Edits of their best moments in videos resurfaced. Old clips were re-examined with fresh eyes. Fans started pointing out moments they had missed—small glances, inside jokes, the way Chris had been extra protective of Y/N in group videos.

Chris and Y/N saw the online chaos unfold in real time. They were back the hotel now, the girls had crashed as soon as their heads had hit the pillows but Y/N and Chris couldn’t ignore their phones.

“I mean,” Chris said, scrolling through Twitter, “we had a good run.”

Y/N groaned, flopping onto the couch. “I thought we’d be able to hold out longer.”

He grinned. “We technically still haven’t confirmed anything.”

“Oh, right. Because that picture is really ambiguous.”

Chris shrugged. “Could be coincidence.”

Y/N snorted. “Sure. Let’s go with that. You just happen to be away with me and my nieces, plus they are incredibly comfortable with you. That can only mean you know them and you’re part of the family.”

They debated addressing it. A joint statement? A casual Instagram post? An offhand joke in a podcast? Ultimately, they decided to do nothing—at least, for now. They had always been private people, and just because the world thought they had confirmation didn’t mean they owed anyone an official announcement.

Instead, they carried on as they had before.

But the next time Y/N uploaded a vlog, there was a fleeting moment—barely two seconds—where Chris walked into her frame, wearing one of her hoodies.

And the fans lost their minds.

#chrismd #chris dixon #chrismd x reader #chrismd fic

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quitealotofsodapop · 5 months ago

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you know how in Season 5; Red Son failed to recreate/reharness the Samadhi Fire and instead created the little Flame Sprite?

Silly idea, a little bit Dragonfruit-ship focused;

Au where when Mei attacks the Flame Sprite with her own True Fire - an unexpected result occurs... leaving instead of a coughing Flame Sprite, something more... needy.

Mei, staring with awe and fear: "Red Boy... Don't tell me that's what I think it is..." Red Son, equally horrified: "I... I'm afraid it is. When your True Fire collided with mine, it must have combined and-" Mei, shaking him: "WE JUST MADE A FIRE-BULL-DRAGON BABY!" Firey Dragon Egg: (*shakes angrily*) Red Son: "My mother is going to kill me!"

They agree for Red Son to run some more diagnostics until they can definitely break the news to their friends and family. Especially since MK is ready to implode at any moment from the stress of the Heavenly Pillar breaking.

Mei takes a million photos of "her dear eggy-weggy" before leaving though.

#samadhi dragon egg au #dragonfruitshipping #lmk mei #long xiaojiao #lmk red son #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk aus

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colourstreakgryffin · 2 months ago

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OneShot req: Papa Pentious with female lizard Toddler & Egg Boiz moving in hotel and chaos starts when lizard daughter starts get attached very much towards the radio demon and stares calling him allystor? (much to pentoius dislike!)

Oooh! I actually like this idea quite a lot and it sounds very silly and cute! I think Pentious can be a decent dad, probs a goddamn mess of one! He has the heart to care but he’s still a disaster! I’m excited for this!

Sir Pentious- Sneaky Little Amphibian

Sir Pentious kinda did not suspect the day he’d become a father but he kinda just impulsively decided that. Yes, you are now his daughter and he will raise you to be the most perfect mad scientist Hell will ever see! In one second, he’s looking down at you. The next, he’s carrying you off with his Egg Bois marching loyally behind him

Sir Pentious doesn’t usually include you in his attempts to concur Pentagram City, defeat Alastor and become recognised by the Vees to become a mighty Overlord. Since, the last thing he wants is to include the only being he has that is vulnerable and dear to him so during his tyraids, you’re hidden away for your own good

As he loves you so much so it’s only better you don’t join, unlike your many older Eggie siblings. They can handle the trips, you can’t

To cut a story short, after Sir Pentious was busted for working for the Vees in order to defeat the Hazbin Hotel, however was accepted by Charlie and her squad. He ended up moving into Hotel. Which, yes, especially included you

Sir Pentious is as prideful of you as he is of his own inventions and of his Egg Bois. He flaunters you around and yells that you’re the cutest thing to ever exist and that you’re all his, you’re his daughter! Nobody else’s!

Sir Pentious, as your father, is protective and clingy. Like, so possessive that he’ll fight to keep people away from you and he’d rather give his tail away than letting somebody else hold you. You’re his precious little toddler and you’ll never like anybody more than him!

However, your beloved kooky father never has an issue with you being taken care of by his Egg Bois… but it’s kinda rare since well… that herd isn’t the most competent beings to exist

Sir Pentious has been… coping with living in this Hotel and with his precious pudgy scaly little potato of a child yet… he doesn’t like it anymore! How dare this disastrous situation happen?! He won’t ever forgive him—

Sir Pentious is outraged, fuming and bubbling like a boiling hot kettle. His broad hands balled up so much that his claws are digging into his own flesh as he watches with sharp slit eyes from across the room, Charlie Morningstar notices her new client’s distress and tries to ask what’s wrong in her usual caring optimistic manner but is met with a rageful hiss of a angry and jealous snake

“Look at him!”

Sir Pentious growls out furiously as he points out Alastor to Charlie… the Radio Demon, smiling with a sense of discomfort and dislike but hiding it rather well as he is looking down at the little adorable lizard-like sinner babygirl cuddling his pant leg by his own feet, his ears pinned back and red eyes flaring. This disgusts him but even HE has standards and he won’t harm children… he just hopes whoever owns this brat will take her away

Charlie tries to sweetly encourage Sir Pentious to not be mad at his beloved toddler’s new interest in Alastor and just go to you and have some father-daughter time as nobody’s really stoping him, yet Sir Pentious is not listening to the Princess’ attempts to help since he’s pulsing with envy and revenge, all against Alastor for the fact you’ve gone from liking your actual dad to liking HIM! That deer is not your daddy and never will be

“My eggie likes that screechy radio! Why doesn’t she like me?!”

Sir Pentious is almost about to bawl at this as he picks off his infamous tall tophat and squeezes it, the fangs and single eye on the silky fabric gritting up from him using the said sentient item as a stress reliever via his merciless grip. His long gracious eye-lined snake-ish tail wrapping up around himself from raw distraught that his daughter doesn’t ‘love him’ anymore

Charlie does her best to comfort her hotel client from his fatherly love-induced mess of a emotional state, it’s so intense that tears are always forming as he watches the way you cling onto Alastor’s pant leg stubbornly and mumble out your cute baby noises plus the little word of ‘Allystor!’ to try get the infamous overlord’s attention

Why won’t you cling onto his tail and blurt out ‘Daddy’? Did he do something wrong?! Sir Pentious won’t stop until he makes this right and make you love him again! The red man doesn’t deserve it, nobody deserves it like he does. He looks after you, he loves you, he spends so much money on you, he’s given you the best home and the best big siblings a child could ask for!

Sir Pentious can only angrily and jealously glare at you and Alastor for a moment or two longer, Charlie nervously and quietly at his side, still trying to convince him to go out there and prove he loves you, his little daughter, but he’s stuck. Also surrounded by his squeaking little Egg troops, he doesn’t know how to civilly approach Alastor without telling him to get the fuck away from you

All Sir Pentious can think in this moment, his world almost zoning out as he keeps examining every second you lovingly crawl on Alastor and squeak out his name for his attention. All he can think of is…

You don’t deserve him. He is the best dad, how could you betray him and go to another guy for love?

…

“I think I’ll go to the Deer, Ms. Morningstar”

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cutiecusp · 4 months ago

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Devotion. The end of the beginning.

Tw. Mentions of the past, angst. Starting to think these two won't have a happily ever after..

@xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-love-letter @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @kaeyasfuturewife

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fanfiction #fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2

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2-b-art-blog · 2 months ago

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Eggie Dear

#welcome home #eddie dear

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cyanoticfireflies · 11 months ago

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Hazbin Group Chat Fic, pt 2

(Part 1)

PurpleFemale: All right, which one of you hos put a carafe of blood in the communal refrigerator?

SeXXXySpider: Objection! I’m the only certified ho here and it wasn’t me

Alastor: Ah, guilty as charged, I’m afraid.

WhiskeyWhiskers: Why the fuck would you even…

WhiskeyWhiskers: Nope. Nope, I’m good.

SssirP: Why would you put blood in the refrigerator?

SeXXXySpider: Christ, Pentious, read a room….

Alastor: To keep it from spoiling, of course

CharChar: Alastor, listen. We are a ~totally accepting~ group of people who are okay with each others… quirks.

Alastor: Why thank you.

CharChar: But maaaybe please don’t leave blood in the refrigerator like it’s a carton of milk?

Alastor: Perhaps I’m misunderstanding your logic, dear girl. Why is it okay to store the mammary extractions of a cow in the refrigerator but not the vascular extractions of a deer?

PurpleFemale: Oh thank god.

SeXXXySpider: Okay, I’m not the only one who immediately assumed it was the blood of a sinner, right?

NaNaNaNiff: Not this time at least!!!

SeXXXySpider: (ㆆ _ ㆆ)

SssirP: But… we keep food in there.

WhiskeyWhiskers: Apparently so does Alastor.

PurpleFemale: Gross.

Alastor: I must say, I’m feeling very singled out right now.

CharChar: Oh, no, Alastor, nothing like that! We’re just all still adjusting to the little quirks from living together. Right, everyone?

Alastor: Yet here I am, being publicly judged for what I choose to put in my mouth and yet no one says a thing to the effeminate spider.

SeXXXySpider: *WHEEZE*

PurpleFemale: Kill me. Please.

WhiskeyWhiskers: I hate every single one of you.

Alastor: Really, half of the freezer is taken up by the boxes of popsicles he keeps in there.

PurpleFemale: …

WhiskeyWhiskers: …

SeXXXySpider: …

SssirP: Alastor does have a point, actually. We’re supposed to share the space, but Angel Dust takes up more than his fair share.

PurpleFemale: I’m simultaneously so relieved and so disappointed.

SeXXXySpider: I was actually going to be really proud of the radio freak

SeXXXySpider: And was then going to go bleach my brain

WhiskeyWhiskers: Alastor, do you even hear yourself when you say things

Alastor: Sorry?

CharChar: Um, I think everyone else might have drawn their own conclusions about what you were making an allusion to….

NaNaNaNiff: They definitely thought you meant dicks!

Alastor: I did not.

PurpleFemale: Well we know that NOW

CharChar: Actually, that gives me an idea for a get-to-know-everyone exercise!

WhiskeyWhiskers: Of course it does.

CharChar: Everyone should tell the group what their absolute favorite food is!

CharChar: I really like apples. I know it’s cliché with my dad and all, but I remember being really little and him conjuring up some for me to snack on and they were always so good!

PurpleFemale: That’s actually really wholesome, babe.

Purple Female: I guess chicharron for me. But, like. Good chicharron. If it’s shitty, then it’s worse than no chicharron.

SeXXXySpider: Lasagna ((っっ˘ڡ˘��ς)

SeXXXySpider: But if you get the sauce from a jar, you deserve to be shot

PurpleFemale: Wow, Angel. You actually… participated. And answered. And the answer wasn’t a sex joke.

SeXXXySpider: Hey, I’m happy to talk about sucking the cream right out of a long thick cannoli if you want me to

PurpleFemale: And there it went.

WhiskeyWhiskers: You should know by now not to tempt fate

PurpleFemale: Yeah….

SssirP: I actually quite like a good chamomile tea and biscuits, myself.

NaNaNaNiff: Hehehe, you don’t like scrambled eggies?

SssirP: … I do like them hardboiled on occasion

SeXXXySpider: Damn, hardcore, my guy

SeXXXySpider: I guess there really is a kink for anything in Hell

SssirP: I didn’t mean my Egg Boiz!

SssirP: I would never!

CharChar: How about you, Niffty?

NaNaNaNiff: I like chocolate!

PurpleFemale: That was a surprisingly normal answer.

NaNaNaNiff: Chocolate covered ants, chocolate covered crickets, chocolate covered silkworms

NaNaNaNiff: Chomp chomp!

WhiskeyWhiskers: Again, Vaggie, tempting fate…

SeXXXySpider: I’ve never regretted less not having a gag reflex

CharChar: That’s… that’s all right! Some people do eat, um… chocolate covered bugs. Everyone has their own tastes!

CharChar: Husk! What about you?

WhiskeyWhiskers: Macallan

CharChar: What’s that?

PurpleFemale: Husk. No.

WhiskeyWhiskers: Glenfiddich

PurpleFemale: No, Husk

WhiskeyWhiskers: Balvenie

SeXXXySpider: Daaaaamn, daddy only drinks the top shelf shit

WhiskeyWhiskers: Call me that again and see what happens

SeXXXySpider: Don’t flirt with me in public, baby

PurpleFemale: Brands of whiskey can’t be your favorite foods, Husk

WhiskeyWhiskers: No one else was told their answers were wrong

CharChar: I mean, no, but everyone else’s answers were technically food, sooooooo

WhiskeyWhiskers: All right, fair enough, I guess.

WhiskeyWhiskers: I mean, shitty bar food?

WhiskeyWhiskers: I don’t know. It’s just kind of nostalgic?

CharChar: Really?

WhiskeyWhiskers: I think my first vegetable was celery from a bloody mary.

SssirP: Aww. That’s kind of sad.

SeXXXySpider: Newsflash, P – if we weren’t all walkin’ tragedies we wouldn’t be here

CharChar: Alastor, I guess you like venison?

Alastor: Indeed, my dear! ThE RaReR ThE BeTtEr

SeXXXySpider: Hey, Niff. Can I be your best friend if I bring you, oh, say, a 10-foot or so chocolate covered moth?

PurpleFemale: Please don’t make that sexy.

WhiskeyWhiskers: What did you say earlier about bleaching your brain?

SeXXXySpider: No, but seriously. Chomp chomp, sister, just like you said! No sexy. Just crunchy.

NaNaNaNiff: Ehehehehe, that’s a LOT of bug!

SeXXXySpider: I’ll see what I can do, toots

WhiskeyWhiskers: If we’re actually killing Valentino, I want in

CharChar: … I mean… me… too?

SeXXXySpider: ╰། ╰། ◉ ◯ ◉ །╯།╯

PurpleFemale: Whoa. Really, babe?

SssirP: Goodness!

Alastor: That doesn’t sound like you at all, Charlie

CharChar: Angel’s boss is a jerk

SeXXXySpider: Bet

(Part 3) (Part 4)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #group chat #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #husk #niffty #alastor #sir pentious

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egg-emperor · 2 months ago

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You think Eggy ever misses Starline? Not in a sentimental way, really, but “damn I miss having a man on call who will come running for a booty call”

Yeah I can see him missing him in a sense, in a totally superficial way rather than sentimental of course, just like "Hmm kinda miss that tight little twink ass. What a waste." He was a nice toy and hole to play with and easy way to have his needs met and it was fun while it lasted

He'd have thoughts along the lines of like, if only he could've known and stayed in his place between his legs on his knees and slobbering on it, and on his hands and knees with ass up in the air for him to grip that stupid lil platypus tail and pound away like he was really good for

That's the only way he ends up reminiscing because besides contributions as his assistant which he does fine without, anything that wasn't business related just involved them fucking, or a combination of both when they'd be doing business when suddenly sex

Whenever Starline would feel sentimental and romantic about an interaction, Eggman would suddenly be ripping his bodysuit open and whipping it out like "oh we're having a moment alright let's fuck >:D" because he's a pervert opportunist and it's where all his interest lies

So all his fond memories are just of Starline swooning over him and enjoying the ego stroking quickly leading to him stroking something else and next thing Starline knows he's on his knees gagging on it or gripping bedsheets for dear life while he takes him to pound town

After Eggman fired him Starline would think back on everything with rose tinted glasses and a romantic filter and getting all emotional about it about how he feels it was the greatest love story of all time and they were destined to be with each other, that it's a devastating tradegy and he needs to win back his heart

While Eggman's thoughts are just of them fucking nasty, how Starline had a pretty nice ass and the ways he complimented him for being so smart and sexy and having a huge cock like "Hrmm that was nice. I'll miss it but it was nice while it lasted" but he just liked the ego boost and the sex and that's it lol

#but dw he still has me for all that now XD #the dynamic is exactly the same he never cares about romance and sentimentality #he's just trying to fuck #we both certainly want the same things 🥴#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #staregg #eggline #my post #asks #ns4w #suggestive

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dykeyote · 5 days ago

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this is also why the movie is ASS by the way . this is a lesbian with the shitty poorly brushed hair only a transmasc egg could have

there is nothing eggy here . why is her hair cute now . this is missing the inherent charm of dear dumb diary which is the fact that jamie is a fucking freak

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radioisntdead · 10 months ago

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Psst

Since we have a hat gremlin- what about other hat wearing Characters?

Sir pent., husker, Lucifer... SUSAN (angel wore a hat one time and so didnt vaggie- do they count?) and Valentino?

My only note is that if Valentino has one it is the equivalent to the most angry lil devil that bites his bald ass head like a rabid flea.

Good evening my dear! I GOT THIS ASK IN THE MORNING AND I KID YOU NOT IT HAS BEEN ON MY BRAIN SINCE. Switching between third person and referring to the reader as you

I'm thinking Sir Pentious's hat creature is like a little lizard, like the gecko lizard that tries to sell you car insurance but instead of car insurance it's just insurance, for what you ask? No idea it's probably a scam don't buy anything from hat lizard, Lil' hat lizard likes to take out with Sir Pentious's hat when he's sleeping, freaks out the eggy Bois, hat gecko totally tries to be a wingman and set him up with Cherri bomb! They are the best winggecko

Huskers hat creature is SMALL, they like the warmth from his fur, you take a lil' nappy nap, snoozy time, when he was a overlord they would help him win casino games, how you ask? I don't know, I don't know how it works but probably by stealing cards or something, his hat creature is probably drunk off their rockers too! Probably chill in cups when not in the hat.

Lucifers hat creature is a duck, 100% a regular duck, a duck that likes to vibe in a hat, that's all I got, the hat quacks. [Lilith gave you to him before leaving.] He likes to show you off to Charlie and the other sins "LOOK AT MY DUCK! THEY REALLY LIKE MY HAT HAhaA"

ANGEL'S CRIME HAT, his lil hat creature is just a lil' guy! He treats em' like a second child [the first is fat nuggets obviously] takes you out of the hat to dress you up, you probably ride fat nuggets like a horse when out of the hat, crime hat creature is totally small enough for that,

I despise Valentino so the bastard is, as per usual dying.

[Warning for mild implied suicide, it's not in depth but It's implied, just a sentence not the reader or the grapist.]

He doesn't have a hat gremlin he has a hat cursed demon leech.

Cursed leech wasn't always cursed, they originally clinged to one of Valentino's victims who ran out during extermination day and you can guess what fate they met.

You, the little hat thing wanted revenge for your fallen friend and so you exited the hat you were originally attached to and infested Valentino's.

Valentino has a constant headache because you bite, sharp teeth piercing his skin, he can't take the hat off because you latch on like a leech, you probably have some diseases that transfer to Valentino so he has to go to the doctors often.

Hat leech will eventually lead to Valentino's permanent death and only then will they be satisfied in taking revenge for their fallen friend, they will exit Valentino's hat and return to the one they left, maybe they'll move on to someone else and be their friend but until then they're on their own.

Vaggie doesn't have a hat gremlin, she has a BOW gremlin, allegedly came from heaven, you are the bow itself. Unraveling to be a bow creature that helps taking people out.

Bonus for Vox because he has a hat right? Or am I delusional we'll find out.

Lil robot creature, totally doubles as a spy, vox's hat is sometimes seen around the hotel stalking Alastor.

SUSAN MY BELOVED OLD GRUMPY LADY, I gotta write for her again soon!

Her hat creature is just like her! Old! her hat will rise up for a moment curse someone out before shrinking back down, similar to Rosie's gremlin, maybe they're related? They probably get into fights, the folks of cannibal town just see Susan's hat and Rosie's hat going at it, dueling probably with weapons I can see them using guns or sticks, sharp sticks,

Susan likes her hat creature, treats em' like a pet and feeds them sinners.

DOODLES TIME, I can't draw anyone's hats for the life of me.

My handwriting sucks but we don't talk about that

#radioasks #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #susan & reader #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel Susan #angel dust & reader

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zaebeecee · 6 months ago

Text

…and so, the spider captured the serpent

A Zestial/Sir Pentious one-shot••

•••

Just a little “what if” for a meeting between these two. A request by my darling @alastorsfluffydeertail who never fails when it comes to inspiration. I’m sorry this took so long, dear, I started this the same hour I read your ask and then I remembered how hard Elizabethan English is to write. But, I do know how to write it pretty okay! I knew all the Shakespeare would pay off one day.

Yeah, yeah, some people only ever suggested this as a crack ship because they have Ozzie and Fizz’s VAs. Don’t care + didn’t ask + I just think they’re cute okay? Also Pentious doesn’t get enough love as a serious character in the fandom and that infuriates me.

•••

It was not working.

That was unusual. Sir Pentious was an inventor, quite possibly the most accomplished within the Pride Ring, and he had not become an inventor by way of his inventions not working. As a matter of fact—if he might be so bold as to make outlandish claims—he had become an inventor by way of his inventions working, and as the little mechanical spider sat on his table, mocking him with its lack of proper movement, Pentious felt… he felt…

Well, he felt pissed off.

Heaving a sigh that did little to quell the burgeoning and directionless anger within him, Pentious slumped down until he was coiled on the ground, his arms folded on his work bench and his chin resting on the edge of the wood. “If I threw you at the wall,” he hissed, “you would burst into a fantastic rain of a thousand tiny screws and tens of little springs. You would scatter everywhere, your bits rolling to and fro, likely never to all be gathered in the same place again. You would cease to exist as you are now, and whatever comes of your disparate parts would be wholly new, not a reconstruction of yourself. Do you understand that?”

The little mechanical spider did not understand that, quite clearly, as it did not immediately rectify its behavior and begin working the way it was so obviously intended to. Inanimate objects were so frustrating. If only he—

“No,” he said aloud, straightening back up and throwing his hands down in front of him. “No, it is precisely that line of thinking that created my eggies, and I cannot handle another group of sentient minions.”

A knock on the door set his hood to flex behind him, and he hissed, spinning rapidly to face it and whatever interloper had dared encroach on his territory. “Who knocks?!” he shouted at the knock, the tip of his tail vibrating almost independently of his own thoughts. “I will destroy you!”

“Oh, please don’t, it’s just me!” Charlie called through the heavy wood. “You’ve been down here for a while, I… thought you might be hungry.”

Instantly abashed, Pentious felt himself deflate. His first instinct was to apologize, and his second was to shout a bit more, but in the two months since he had arrived at the Hotel and the precise way Charlie had been so kind to him… “Of… of course. My apologies, Miss Charlie.” He almost told her to enter, then realized she was likely carrying something, so instead quickly slithered over to the door and pulled it open himself.

It was a good thing, too, because Charlie was carrying an entire tray that she held up with her usual bright smile; it had sandwiches, a plate of chopped fruit, and an entire tea set that was likely older than Pentious himself. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice full of that aching sincerity Pentious was certain she had no idea was there. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Pentious said, aware he was repeating himself but unable to do anything about that now as he moved back and held one arm out in invitation. Charlie swept past him, her eyes immediately moving over every inch of the basement room he had commandeered for a laboratory shortly after the nastiness with the Vees had been sorted. “You can just… there, on the table,” Pentious added, pointing to the workbench that held his precisely placed tools across the back and the little, immobile mechanical spider.

“Oh! Is this what you’ve been working on?” Charlie asked as she set the tray down carefully, her eyes on the infuriatingly uncooperative device.

“To say I have been working on it suggests it is working,” Pentious said, looking at it distastefully. “As it is, the thing is as unruly and insubordinate as something without sentient thought can be.”

Oddly, Charlie giggled. “I see. Mmm…” She tilted her head, looking up at Pentious. “What’s it supposed to do?”

“It is supposed to gather information through a series of minute sensors placed strategically about its form as it moves through locations unnoticed,” Pentious said. “As it is, however, all it does is…” A demonstration would be better than an explanation, he supposed, so he reached out and tapped the device in the center of its body.

Instantly, the thing whirred to life, wiggling a little as its sensors activated and began taking in the surroundings. It swiveled one way, then the other, before it seemed to take notice of the tray. It began marching resolutely towards it, and when Charlie made a move as though to remove any obstacles, Pentious held out his hand to still her. The mechanism, of course, took note of none of this. Instead, it continued its focused and dedicated trek across the table, crawling onto the tray and beginning to trudge across it. It missed the teapot and the sandwiches by virtue of them simply not being immediately in its path, but it stomped straight through the sliced fruit and emerged on the other side of the plate with a cube of melon stuck on one of its spindly little legs. As though unencumbered, it marched onwards, off the tray and then straight off the table where it landed on the rug that Pentious had moved beneath the workbench for this very reason. It laid there on its back, legs waving silently through the air as though its journey had not completed, and Pentious’s phone beeped at him.

He pulled up the app he had created, showing Charlie the results. “According to our dear little friend, it has successfully navigated through a sandstorm, detected several frogs, and is currently moving directly up a wall that appears to be made of honeycomb.”

“Oh dear,” Charlie said, looking at the device again. “So… the sensors aren’t working?” she guessed.

“Not to put too fine a point on it.” Pentious leaned down and picked up the little spider, deactivating it and relieving it of its position as makeshift fruit kabob. “They were created in the Lust Ring. I have used similar devices from there before, but I’ve never had them malfunction this badly. Theoretically, I could simply begin again with more, but that will neither tell me what the problem is, nor how to fix it.”

“Hmm…” Charlie tapped her chin. “…normally I’d ask Uncle Ozzie for his advice, but he’s been pretty tied up with his latest, uh, projects.” It took a moment for it to register that, by the casual moniker ‘Uncle Ozzie’, she was referring to Lord Asmodeus himself. “So I dunno if… …oh!” She clapped her hands together so suddenly that Pentious startled, his hood flexing again. “Sorry! But I had a thought! What kind of tech do the sensors use? It’s a form of magitech, right?”

Pentious frowned at her, folding his arms. “Yes,” he said, unable to help a mildly begrudging note from slipping into his voice. As a man of science in life, he had always struggled with the idea of the preternatural, and even after having been dead for more than a century he still disliked to give any credit to magic. “Construct transmutation, specifically. Why?”

“Well… I know somewhere that you could definitely go to get more information on that,” Charlie said. “There’s an overlord in the city who collects books, all kinds of them. He’s been doing it for as long as he’s been in Hell. I’m sure he would be willing to lend you something that would help with your project, and he loves meeting creative people.”

Pentious raised one eyebrow at her, and he could practically hear his hat doing the same. “You are already well aware that I do not exactly… get on with the overlords of this city.”

Charlie smiled, waving her hands. “Oh, no no, he’s nothing like the Vees, and he isn’t… well, he does like scaring people, but he’s not that much like Alastor, either.”

“…I see.” Pentious sighed. “Oh, very well, if you insist. Who is this friend of yours, exactly?”

“His name is Zestial. Have you heard of him?”

Initially, Pentious barely registered her question, as the name had instantly sent a shock of horror across his flesh. “What— have I heard of him?! Of course I’ve heard of him! He was the oldest functioning overlord in all of Pentagram City all the way back when I died! Are you— you want me to just go to Zestial and ask him for a book?!”

Charlie, oddly, didn’t seem to realize what a ludicrous idea she had just proposed. “Well… yes,” she said, tilting her head. “Why not? He has so many, and he always told me that books were meant to be read. You aren’t…” She frowned a little. “You aren’t scared, are you, Pen?”

“Of course not!!” Pentious’s declaration came out as something significantly closer to a screech, and he cleared his throat, straightening his jacket before he continued. “Of course I’m not afraid. That would be ludicrous. It is— it’s simply— I’m not afraid,” Pentious repeated, because he didn’t know what it ‘simply’ was.

Charlie smiled at him. “Oh, good, I’m glad! I’ll let him know you’re coming so he’ll be home and expecting you. Oh, but you should eat first!”

She seemed blissfully unaware of anything that had just transpired as she waved, letting herself out of the laboratory. Pentious waved back on something of a reflex, watching her leave, before he glared at the construct in his hand. “This is all your fault.”

•••

How does one speak to the oldest overlord in Hell?

Pentious had, of course, spoken with overlords before. Primarily, he had only interacted with Vox (which he wasn’t eager to repeat again) and Alastor (who he was still definitely going to absolutely demolish one of these days, redemption be damned), but they were… well, they were media personalities, and despite the fact that Pentious had no experience with “celebrities” of their sort, he knew well enough that they were handled far differently than what one normally thought of as a higher social class.

Pentious himself wasn’t unfamiliar with such things; in life, he had lived in London as a doctor, and while it was true that in those days such a profession wasn’t precisely glamorous or even considered generally commendable, he did often interact with the lower rungs of nobility both through his practice and by way of the arguments masquerading as meetings of the Board of Governors for the hospital at which he conducted his residency. This would be simple if he could think of this meeting as nothing more than that: a proposal to the Board of Governors to conduct new research, except that in this case, the Board of Governors was Hell’s oldest overlord and the new research proposal was a request to borrow arcane knowledge.

Yes. It is exactly the same. What could Charlie possibly thinking? Perhaps she’s trying to orchestrate my destruction before I can betray the hotel.

Pentious dismissed the thought before it even had a chance to take root. The Princess of Hell was absolutely riddled with problems, but deceit was not among her myriad flaws and even he couldn’t pretend she would purposefully do something so underhanded. That being said, he wasn’t positive she had the same scope of understanding as… well, as everyone else. After all, the Devil himself was her father, and Pentious had to imagine that would skew one’s perspective a bit. The fact remained that Charlie seemed to hold no true fear for the horrors that surrounded her, and as such, her incessant declarations of ‘everything will be fine’ were incredibly difficult to take to heart.

Then again, if the Christians were right after all, she was the Antichrist. Pentious supposed he would have been more disturbed if she was afraid of the denizens of Hell.

The address Charlie had given him was in a somewhat remote section of Pentagram City, the area rich with ancient power that seemed to lie somewhat dormant in the years since its construction. Pentious followed his instructions to a house, one that he could only call… odd. It was grand, certainly, with an impressive facade of marble and dark slate that stood above the other buildings in the area as any good manor should, nestled in an overgrown garden landscape that sat past a set of old wrought-iron gates that complained noisily as Pentious pushed through them. Like many places in Pentagram City, there were eyes on the very structures of carved stone that dotted the unkempt lawn of the bizarre house, and it was strange simply because it didn’t appear to belong to any one particular time. Architecture was something of a special interest of his, and Pentious saw influences from years after his own time all the way back to antiquity, as though the house itself was as ancient as the city and had simply amassed new pieces and rooms as it grew over time.

It felt… alive, somehow, even more than the Hazbin Hotel did when wandering the hallways late at night.

The doors stood tall and black as pitch as Pentious approached, the knocker a little higher than his own head and the archway at the top of the doors further than he would be able to reach were he to uncoil his body and somehow stand upon the very tip of his tail. Steeling himself and trusting that Charlie had, in fact, contacted the overlord beforehand, Pentious raised one hand, gripped the brass ring, and knocked sharply.

Hardly a second passed after the three knocks and Pentious releasing the knocker; there was a click somewhere deep within the wood, followed by a low and aching creak as the door slowly swung itself open. Pentious hardly expected to see Zestial himself, but assumed he must have staff of a sort, wondering briefly at their attentiveness before he realized there was no one there. It was as though the door had opened itself, the red light of Pride’s sky pouring in through the door to cast its glow on the dark wood flooring that stretched into shadow before him.

Pentious hesitated, wondering if he should knock again in case this was some kind of mistake, but he was certain that click had been the releasing of a lock. He frowned, but slowly crossed the threshold, glancing around for any movement at all. “Hello?” he called to no one, his voice echoing in a room that must have been cavernous (in a lack of furnishing, if not in size) but that was too dark to truly judge. Pentious entered further, willing his eyes to adjust to better allow him to see, when the door creaked behind him and then closed itself.

The entrance hall was thrown into absolute darkness for only a moment. Some distance before him, wall sconces gently began flickering to life, their flames a rich emerald that did little to illuminate and more to simply indicate a path. Pentious knew an invitation when he saw one, at least, and began to follow the sconces as they lit one by one, leading him deeper into the manor.

At some point, he realized he must have passed through a doorway, as the floor beneath him turned from polished wood to a plush rug that slowed him briefly. No further sconces directed him forward, and so he came to a stop, peering around once more. Though his eyes had begun to adjust to the dark, the simple fact of the matter was that there wasn’t any real light to see by, leaving most of his surroundings to be shadow on shadow.

Charlie did mention he enjoys frightening people.

The moment that thought passed his mind, Pentious heard a sound behind him, like the gentle rustle of fabric against itself. Tensing, he slowly turned, looking up to see four narrow eyes and a sharp, smiling mouth, all of them glowing a brilliant green. Pentious felt his heart l jump into his throat immediately, and he moved backwards in a motion that would have been a stumble if he still had his legs and still sent him crashing back onto the rug.

“So,” a deep, resonant voice asked, with little concern for his alarm, “thou art the one of whom Charlotte spoke, is that correct?”

Pentious opened his mouth, his lips working uselessly for a moment before he rediscovered his voice. “Yes,” he said, astounded that his words came out steady. “My name is Sir Pentious. I’m in need of information, and she… tells me you have a collection of books.”

Above him, Zestial chuckled, and Pentious wasn’t sure what the precise source of his amusement was. “Ah, knowledge. Quite a worthy pursuit, indeed. Tell me, Sir Pentious, dost thou know upon whose floor thou currently curl? Passage into these halls, which lieth ‘twixt Pride’s false light and the true tenebrae of the Underworld, is rarely taken through freedom of will.”

Pentious could see why; coming into this place felt like walking into death again, and he couldn’t imagine many people choosing to do that themselves. “I know I’m in your home, Lord Zestial,” he said. “I apologize if my intrusion was somewhat presumptuous, but when your door unlocked for me, I thought that it unlocking was an invitation.”

Zestial’s eyes narrowed in what seemed to be further amusement. “Thy skill in perception seems quite astute,” he said. Pentious couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or not. “It hath been long indeed that my abode housed what one could call… a guest. Such a moment could almost be called auspicious.”

Almost as soon as he completed his sentence, light flared to life around them. Pentious had only a moment to see that Zestial was unaffected by the sudden brightness before he was forced to cringe away, shielding his eyes with one arm as they were assaulted. He didn’t permit himself long, however, before he was forcing his eyes open and blinking away the pain to take in his surroundings.

The light, it seemed, came only from a fireplace on the longest wall that was now crackling merrily with a fire that was as close to ‘normal’ as Hell ever saw. The room seemed to be some sort of private study, a few chairs near the hearth and a desk set to the side with bookshelves built into the walls both across from and either side of the fireplace. Above him, Zestial stood, his face still unblinking and focused in that enigmatic smile. Pentious could see why those who had seen him likened him to a spider, though Pentious would never have compared him to Angel Dust; where his fellow resident was a jumping spider, Zestial was a black widow, black and spindly and undeniably dangerous.

Pentious righted himself, straightening his jacket and tamping down any feelings of lingering embarrassment. After all, he knew there were sinners who would rather set themselves on fire than stand in Zestial’s presence, and for that, he thought he was doing quite well in only falling over. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Zestial,” he said. “What do you ask in return?”

“In return?” Zestial echoed curiously, tilting his head at a dramatic angle; Pentious knew nothing about him, but even so, he thought the overlord seemed absolutely delighted by every moment of this encounter thus far. “Thou doubtless refer to the use of my library?”

“Naturally,” Pentious said. “I had no intention of taking advantage of your hospitality while providing no recompense.”

“Such courtesy. A rarity indeed within this pit of despair,” Zestial observed, leaning down a little and putting himself more at eye level with Pentious. He felt like the overlord was studying him, much the way he himself used to study creatures kept beneath glass domes. “Tis long since fate hath granted me any opportunity to expand my knowledge of what became of life beyond my own years. If thou wishest an offer of reciprocity, perhaps thou wouldst willingly part with the tale of thy demise?”

Pentious’s eyebrows shot up. “You… want to hear how I died?”

“Tis a natural curiosity, is it not?” Zestial asked, as though people discussed their deaths every day. The truth of the matter was, however, that very few people (if any) ever discussed the gruesome details of their own passing, to the point that many in Pentagram City considered the question quite the social taboo. And no one—not even anyone in the hotel—had ever asked Pentious about his death… nor, in fact, about his life. Unaware of Pentious’s thoughts, Zestial continued, “Death and its many strange and malleable forms hath greatly enchanted my mind since time so long past, memory no longer serves to recollect it. If it pleases thee, I wouldst grant thee leave to peruse any text thou desire, simply to hear the beauty of thy passing as perceived by thine own eyes.”

Pentious couldn’t help smiling at that, a small laugh escaping him; this was too ridiculous to be real. “I have no reservations, but I would imagine you would have heard many more interesting tales of death than what I could offer you.”

Zestial chuckled in response. “Tis of little matter. In truth, many show great reluctance to engage with me in any sort of friendly conversation; few such stories have been presented to me, even in so long a time.”

“…alright, then,” Pentious said.

“Splendid.” Zestial gestured to his bookshelves. “My library is at thy disposal.” As Pentious went to the shelves and began examining the spines, Zestial continued, “How long hath Hell’s hand gripped thy soul?”

“Almost one hundred and forty years now,” Pentious said, removing a promising looking book from a shelf and flipping to the index. “I was born in London, and in London, I died. I suppose I should ask… do you know of London?”

“Twas no such place in my admittedly short years amongst the living,” Zestial said. “But the name does bear familiarity to me. What sort of town was London, when thou didst walk beneath warm and open skies?”

“Terrible,” Pentious said without hesitation. “It was overcrowded, filthy, full of disease… the bubonic plague had reached England by then, though fortunately, it was not what killed me.” This book is not helpful, he thought, putting it back and searching for another.

“Ah, yes, that malady is quite well known to me,” Zestial said, with a note in his voice almost like fondness. “Thou didst not fall prey to it?”

“No,” Pentious said. “I have always had a great interest in engineering, but I was a physician by trade, and as such, I knew quite well how to avoid the disease… at least, as well as the science of the time permitted. Unfortunately, I met my end at the hands of Scotland Yard. The law enforcement,” he added, by way of explanation. He could see Zestial nod out of the corner of his eye. “But had they not killed me, I have little doubt the mercury poisoning would have.”

Pentious had always been something of an expert at multi-tasking (as much as a human mind was capable, in any case), and answering questions was one of his favorite pastimes, which meant the overlord’s surprisingly inquisitive nature did nothing to detract from his search for information. Each answer Pentious gave seemed to give rise to three more questions in Zestial’s mind, and Pentious found himself explaining everything from the effects of mercury poisoning to the problematic condition of the Thames to what, precisely, it was that he did as a physician as he looked through each book that caught his eye.

When he finally located what he was searching for, Zestial graciously allowed him to take the book with him, simply requesting he return it in person. Pentious thanked him, and as he left, the fact that he had apparently been in that house long enough that the sun had set entirely surprised him.

It wasn’t until he returned to the hotel that he registered that Zestial had never once asked him what, exactly, it was he wanted the book for.

•••

“Our kinship hath grown immeasurably in the time since our first meeting, wouldst thou not agree?”

“I would.” Carmilla wasn’t looking at Zestial, her eyes on the long metal table in her private workshop as she pieced together what seemed to be some sort of new firearm, likely a prototype for Carmine Industries to begin distributing before the coming extermination. “Why do you ask?”

“I seek insight, preferably that of an objective mind, and experience speaks true that thy perception hath long been unencumbered by… sentimentality,” Zestial said, standing near the large windows looking out over Pentagram City. He wasn’t truly looking at the landscape, however, his gaze instead watching the form of his old friend as she continued her work with a passive expression.

“Why are you fishing?” Carmilla asked.

Zestial almost frowned, turning his head just slightly. “What is thy meaning?”

“You’re trying to gauge my mood,” Carmilla said, lifting the firearm and raising it to check the sights before lowering it to the table again and picking up another delicate tool. “This kind of indirectness isn’t like you, Zestial. I expect it from Alastor or Vox, but you are usually much more forthright.”

Zestial didn’t answer her for a long moment, and she didn’t press. “I am… uncertain as to how I might phrase my query,” he admitted.

“Did something happen?”

“Recently, I hath found myself with… a regular visitation.”

That, at least, made Carmilla turn just slightly on her stool. “None of the other overlords, I take it?” Zestial shook his head. “…Zestial, are you trying to tell me that you made a friend?”

“Would that I were so confident in such a term.” Zestial moved away from the window, slowly gliding to the other side of the workshop. “Doth the name Sir Pentious bear any significance for thee?”

“I’ve heard of him,” Carmilla said, her tone guarded in a way that suggested either wariness or a simple desire to keep her thoughts from being known. “A sinner with aspirations towards becoming an overlord but without the drive to possess the souls needed to achieve such a position. He used to engage with turf wars with Alastor not infrequently, as well as Vox and Valentino before VoxTek was founded. Not, of course, that the three of them will acknowledge his existence. …why?”

“I confess that I have found his company quite fascinating, as of late.”

Carmilla’s voice became colored by the frown that he could not see but was positive she wore. “Are you telling me that Sir Pentious has been… what, coming to your home? Whatever for?”

“At the start, ‘twas for nothing but access to my library, on recommendation of the Princess Charlotte. He proved receptive to intellectual curiosity, however, and I confess that I may have somewhat interrogated the boy before releasing him back into the dark night. He returned with a book I lent him, and at my behest, he remained for several hours before once again taking leave. Tis many times we have conversed, these past three fortnights, and I find I have been somewhat preoccupied with thoughts of our conversations.”

Carmilla was staring at him with an unreadable expression, and for the death of him, Zestial could not begin to imagine what she was thinking. Finally, after a false start, she said, “Are you telling me that—… no,” she murmured, clearly to herself, before continuing, “What, exactly, is it that you’re wanting an objective assessment of?”

“It hath been long indeed since fate hath granted me the gift of a new… conversational partner,” Zestial said; the words did not feel adequate, but he could come up with nothing more fitting. “But by my troth, never hath any such encounter brought me such vexation whilst always carrying with it an air of such delight I cannot begrudge him the arguments.”

Carmilla fully turned to face him. “…he frustrates you, and he argues with you, and he’s still living?”

“Indeed. Of course, Sir Pentious seems able to quarrel with a stone over the matter of its own weight; I have little doubt what hesitation he possessed in challenging me vanished the moment he perceived an error.”

For several moments, Carmilla said nothing, and Zestial was hardly surprised. Even figures like Alastor minded their tongue in his presence, at least as far as those like Alastor were able; back in the days when the King of Hell was more active, Lucifer himself had seemed hesitant to risk Zestial’s anger. And while Sir Pentious had indeed been quite terrified at first, intellectual curiosity had melted that fear and it seemed to have never resolidified.

When Carmilla seemed to remember where she had left her speech, she said, “If I didn’t know better, I would say you were infatuated with him.”

“Infatuated?” Zestial echoed; the word tasted foreign on his tongue, but not unwelcome. “What a strange thought. Memory fails in pursuit of the last time I could ever describe an interest so. …interesting.”

Carmilla frowned at him. “Interesting?” she repeated, the word far more flat in her mouth than in his own.

Zestial chuckled at her doubt. “Sinners we may be, but sinners are human souls, are we not? And the human soul craves connection. …I think I shall invite him to return for tea. Thou hast my gratitude, my friend.”

“Zestial, hold on…!” Carmilla was getting to her feet, but Zestial wasn’t listening, melting down into the shadows of the floor and vanishing into the night, intent on returning to his home to pen the perfect invitation.

•••

Carmilla stared at the place on the floor where Zestial had just been standing, her mind simultaneously feeling as though it were spinning wildly and frozen still.

Zestial… has a crush on someone?

It was unthinkable. …almost, in any case. It was true that he never sneered at the idea of romance, and always listened almost indulgently as Rosie would lay out every messy detail of the romantic follies of Cannibal Town before meetings. He was the first who… identified… the precise nature of Vox’s relationship with Valentino, as well as the first who posited the idea that perhaps Alastor simply held no interest in the entire affair. And when Lilith and Lucifer finally parted ways, he was so unsurprised, he had to have been expecting it.

…come to think of it, he seemed to speculate on the love lives of other sinners quite a lot.

Carmilla turned back to her table, staring at the half-completed gun that expectantly gleamed in the light, waiting for her to finish it.

And she would. But first, she really needed a drink.

•••

#my writing #hazbin hotel #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin pentious #hazbin zestial #rarepair #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #this ship doesn’t even have a name I don’t think

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