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forever-rogue · 5 years ago

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In Name Only - Part 1

A/N: Ughhh, hi! I’m a whore for Oberyn Martell and cannot be stopped. This is gonna be a little series, only a few parts (at least for now), and I hope you enjoy. This was one of my many shower ideas that I couldn’t let go! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: slight language

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I will not marry a man that does not love me,” you cursed the gods for making you a woman. You cursed your mother for being the way she was though it was not her fault that you were her only daughter among six sons. You cursed the laws of men that determined your position in life, “I will not be tied down to man who does not care about me, to a castle that will never be a home, and bear children I do not want.”

“You are an insolent, silly girl,” she hissed at you, and for a moment you feared that she might reached and strike you across the face. She had been prone to doing so when you were younger, but in her older years she had calmed down, softening with the birth of each child after you, each son, each brother you loathed for how easy their lives were, “you should have been married many moons ago.”

“I will not marry a man almost twice my age that openly keeps a lover and already has plenty of children,” a fiery rage set through your bones, one that would probably be perfectly suited in the warm, desert homeland of the husband she insisted you take. In the Reach, your attitude was abhorred, and you were considered the lone deviant of your family, “I will not give up my freedoms because you deem it fit for me to do so.”

“You will marry him and bear him an heir,” she grabbed your hair and roughly yanked it and leaned in so only you could hear, “you are lucky any man will have you. You’re much too old to be unwed and your demeanor makes you almost unbearable.”

“I will not do it,” you gritted your teeth and tried to pull out of grasp, “I will not subject myself to a life of servitude-”

“When I was your age I’d already been long married to your father and had you and two of your brothers,” she reminded, pushing you away with a heavy sigh, “do you think I wanted to get married? I was no more than a child, and you at least are a woman grown. I could have married you off years ago, as I should have. You would have been out of my sight and perhaps tamed.”

“I refuse. I will not bend and break to your whim,” turning away you started to storm off, hoping that some fresh air would calm you down. Perhaps you could ride your horse through the open pastures and fields surrounding the castle.

“And just what do you plan on doing then? Will you wander through the kingdoms on your own, travelling without anything or anyone like a heathen?”

“Perhaps I will,” you shrugged, “it would be better than doing what you ask of me. If you loved me-”

“If you do not marry him, you will be cut off from this family,” her words were enough to cause you turn around and listen to her, “you will lose your name, your worldly possessions, and you will be penniless. Is that really what you desire?”

“All of this because I do not want to take a husband?”

“It is your duty. As it has been the duty of every woman before you.”

“Fuck duty!” your voiced reverberated around the castle’s stone walls as she stared you down, “I will not marry someone I do not love. Father would never make me do so.”

“And your father is dead,” she reminded you with venom lacing her tone, “and what do you even know about love? It is a fiction created to keep little girls happy.”

“I loved him,” your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest as you thought of him. Your mother scoffed and dramatically rolled her eyes at you, “I loved him and you sent him away to certain death because you are a monster.”

“That horrid boy? He was a bastard,” she reminded you of the cruel little thing that kept you apart. How you rued the term of bastard; it did not mean anything, it did not determine a person’s character or heart, “he was never good enough for you. And you defiled yourself for him.”

“Because I loved him!” you insisted, “and he loved me! We would have been happy together, we could have built a life together...”

“He was a peasant, he tended stables-”

“That does not matter to me,” you reminded her, “he was kind and gentle and warm. I would have loved to have a life of tending stables if meant I was with him. Because I loved him!”

“You were lost in your girlhood fantasies of what you think love is,” she was cruel, each of her words twisting like a knife in your gut, “he was the first boy to show you attention and you fell for his little trap, and it has left you ruined for other men. You are lucky that Oberyn Martell does not know and he will not care, the one benefit of having a Dornish heathen for a husband.”

“I did love him, mother,” you tried hard to fight off the flood of tears that were pricked the back of your eyes, “and just because you can’t handle that you sent him to the Wall where he will live out his days and die. I never even got to say goodbye.”

“He was a bastard, it did not matter.”

“He was a good man,” your voice broke slightly as you tried to square your shoulders and stare her down, “his only fault in life was loving me. It’s gotten him the most cruel of fates.”

“I have had enough of you,” she steeled herself and strode past you, regal and noble in appearance as ever, “in two weeks time you will travel to Dorne and you will marry Oberyn Martell. You will either oblige and do it, as is your duty or you be expelled from this castle and can live out your days among the bastards that you love so much. It is your choice, whether you bring shame to this family or you disappear into the background as a woman should and become a dutiful wife.”

“Those are both horrible, vile options.”

“That is duty of being born a woman.”

“I wish I was born a man then,” you turned on your heel to walk away, wishing you were stronger, wishing you weren’t on the verge of tears, “maybe then I would not subjected to such a cruel fate, and I wouldn’t let any woman in my care suffer the same.”

“Aren’t you just the martyr,” she mocked you with such a ferocity that you wanted to give her a good whack across her own smug face, “you think you know so much, you know nothing.”

“I know what it means to be a good person, or at least to try,” it was days like that you longed for your father. He had been a kindhearted, generous man, one who did not believe in the stereotypes that divided men and women. He was the reason you had remained unwed for many years, far past the age of anyone of noble blood. He encouraged your wildness, your open heart and free spirit. Your mother had always been the exact opposite. You always wondered how they seemingly got along so well, but you’d come to understand that it was no more than an illusion. The only love they shared was that of their children, and sometimes you wondered how deep that truly ran.

“Enough,” her tone held the cruel finality, the singular word was as sharp as a dagger as she stood in the doorway, the soft light filtering in behind her. She was a handsome woman, and if you hadn’t known better, she appeared almost angelic. But you knew better, much better; she was no more a saint than you were a sinner. You remained steadfast in your spot, trying to channel the ferocity that your father always embodied, “in two weeks time you will travel to Sunspear and you will marry the prince.”

“I would rather die.”

“If you choose your own grave so be it,” she slammed the door to her quarters shut, letting the sound ring through the hall. You had flinched at the noise, but now it only served to anger you. Your whole life, the little joys it still afforded you would be taken away soon, all because of a name. All because you were a woman.

They often called occasions such as these little deaths, but you had a feeling that it would be a lot more than a little pain to make yourself subservient to a husband you did not want.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey from the lush green lands of Honeyholt and surrounding lands into the dry, red deserts of Dorne had been...miserable. While you would have relished traveling and seeing the new lands under any other circumstance, you experienced no moments of tranquility or peace. The landscapes meshed into one and the only thing signaling that you were entered the land of the Dornish was the stifling heat. The Reach was temperate, never an extreme in either direction, but Sunspear provided its first test through the scorching heat of the golden sun.

It would take some getting used to but you could understand why the symbol of the house you would soon be joining was a blazing sun. It never seemed to fade, casting its golden light across every inch of the land. The people that you spied in villages and smaller cities as you approached Sunspear looked as if they didn’t mind; perhaps only a lifetime of heat would allow you to get used to it.

Their curious glances were always trained on you, and your small retinue that would depart as soon as you arrived safely. You were an outsider from a strange land that the Dornish were reluctant to trust; it wasn’t common fro one of Northern breeding to step this far south. Not that you had much of a choice in the matter; you hadn’t thrown a fit, or cried, or screamed, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you so upset. Instead you had remained silent, speaking only a few words here and there as necessary, your true self hidden behind a thick veneer of steel. Maybe your true self would be hidden forever, dying a little bit day by day as you waited patiently for your death.

There would be no ceremony, no pomp, and most definitely no circumstance when you arrived to your new home and to meet the man who would shortly become your husband. You would be all but abandoned in the palace where you knew no one, trying to fend for yourself. It had been at your mother’s request and you knew exactly why she would treat you in such a manner; each of your brothers, all but the two youngest had been married off already, in a show of great festivities and celebration. You were all but kicked under the carpet, a smudge on the family name that she wished to forget.

Your mother harbored no love for the Dornish, whom she considered savages and uncultured; she must have been desperate to finally see you off if she agreed to a marriage proposal from the Martells. You wondered why they had even asked for you; there were plenty of other families in Dorne that could have produced a worthy daughter, or other Northern families that might have agreed. Perhaps they too realized that it would difficult to marry off a prince nearing middle age that housed a paramour and bragged about his bastard daughters. It did not phase you, or bother you in the slightest; you were pleased rather that they seemed to enjoy life to such a degree. But perhaps even the Martells were smart enough to know that they would need heirs, legitimate ones, to recognized by the Northern countries and carry on their name.

When you arrived at the palace in Sunspear, your jaw dropped slightly in surprise - it was a stunning beauty, a feat of architecture that you were loathe to find anywhere else in the seven kingdoms. It presented a sharp contrast to the home you had known your entire life; there was no bleak grays or beiges that met your eyes, instead colorful, brilliant shades of warm crimsons, oranges, tans, and bronzes met your eyes. it was warm and welcoming, despite the reason for your arrival. If this was to be your home for the remainder of your days, at least it was beautiful.

Your carriage came to a harsh stop and you almost slid off your seat at the sudden force. You groaned lightly as you straightened yourself, looking down at the green dress you were sporting and already wishing you had something cooler to wear. If you had been granted your way, you’d be dressed the same as the men that could spy all around the palace, sporting a pair of trousers and a loose tunic. Your father had never cared what you wore, but the day your mother found out that you had been running around like a boy, she had made you wear only the finest dresses. You’d still sneak off in trousers whenever presented with the opportunity, a small thrill running through your veins, knowing that you were directly defying your mother.

The small door was opened and you stepped out, letting your feet hit the warm the sand. You wiggled your feet about, trying to get a feel for it, bending over and picking up a handful of the small grains. It was a dark bronze color, different than the seasides of the Reach, and softer. You liked it, you immediately decided, it was much more comforting than stone and hard soil.

“Knock it off and put it back,” internally rolling your eyes at the septa you swore you were much too old to still have you, you let the sand trickle out of your hand and back onto the ground, “you’re acting like a child. You must behave and act like a proper woman.”

Sighing lightly, you remained wordless, not wanting to start an argument in the middle of your new home before you’d even made a proper entrance. The few items you’d brought from Honeyholt with you were quickly unloaded and brought into the palace. You hadn’t desired to bring much; you wanted a fresh start, a new one that you could call all your own, even if you weren’t here by choice. It felt like you could hang on to a little bit of autonomy that way.

Your most prized possession hung around your neck: a delicate golden chain that contained a small rose colored gem. It had been given to you by your father on your fourteenth nameday; he’d presented it to you with such joy and excitement, having it made just for you. He had claimed that the rose gem symbolized love and that you would always know how much he loved and adored you whenever you wore it. You hadn’t taken it off since his untimely demise; a small consolation for not having him around anymore.

You’d been so lost in your own thoughts, of your father, of your new life, that you hadn’t seen realized you’d stepped foot inside, until a pair of arms wrapped around you. Your body tensed in defense as you came back to reality and saw a young, dark haired girl grinning at you. She was beautiful, clearly of Dorne with her sunkissed skin and dark features, and animated smile. She was dressed in silks of gold and orange, much like the house she served. Appearing to be only a few years younger than yourself, she had a warm aura about her; it was the most kindness you’d experienced in some time.

“I’m Asha,” she had taken a step back when noticed your hesitation and held her hand out instead. You gave her the best smile you could as you gingerly shook her hand, still wanting to tread lightly as you gave her your name, “I’m your handmaiden. I’ll be helping you with whatever you need.”

“Handmaiden?” surely this must be a joke. Back in Honeyholt you’d had maids and servants, surely, but never one that served you in such a personal manner. Perhaps this was one of the perks of marrying a prince, even if he was one by name only, “I’m quite sure that I can handle myself...I’m sorry, forgive me, I do not mean to be rude. I’ve just never had someone...”

“It’s quite alright,” she insisted, taking your hand and pulling you further into the palace. You tried to get a good look at everything, but there was so much going on all at once that it was hard to keep track of everything, “I’ll be here for whatever you need and should you decide you do not need me at all, then I will remain as your friend, if it pleases you.”

“Friend?” that was the last thing you expected. It something you both had and hadn’t thought much about in the past few weeks. You’d had friends in Honeyholt, less and less the older you became, when they turned into mere acquaintances, tending to the families they were growing, but you’d resigned yourself to a life of solitude in Dorne. You weren’t sure what to expect here; you didn’t think the people would be so welcoming for the stranger that came to marry their favorite prince.

“Yes,” she gave you a dazzling grin, “like I said, if it pleases you. The prince wants to make sure you feel at home and that you’re comfortable.”

“He does?” you’d been there for such a short time, but already you’d experienced more twists and turns than you had expected.

“Of course,” she pulled you up a flight of marbled stairs and down a long hallway, stopping before a grand set of doors. They were beautiful, made of aged wood and intricately carved. You couldn’t stop yourself as you reached up and touched the carvings, letting your fingers glide over them, “ he’s traveled all over the seven kingdoms, the Summer Isles, Essos...so many different places. He understands better than anyone what it is like to be in a new, and often unwelcoming land. He wants you to know that this is your home too. The prince is very happy to have you here and finally meet you.”

“Huh,” you turned to her, searching her eyes for any signs of deception, but you found none. Her dark eyes were wide with excitement as she opened the door and revealed the beautiful interior of your personal quarters. It was a beautiful sight to behold, colorful furniture was strewn about, a large, soft bed with golden cloth over it, and open doors leading to a balcony that housed many plants. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains and rustled the leaves. This space, in the few moments you’d stared at it, felt more like a home than anything you had experienced.

“His quarters are on the opposite end of the hallway,” she explained and nudged her in the direction. Separate quarters, you thought to yourself, how strange, “he wanted to make sure you liked everything. If you’re unhappy with it or require anything else, just say the word and you will have it.”

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted, stepping into the space and taking a closer at everything, “Dorne is beautiful...I had not expected this much beauty in the desert lands. The way the Northern lords make it sound...it should be horrid and ugly. But it’s lovely.”

“There is so much in Dorne that they will never tell you about because they will not allow themselves to see the beauty in front of them. We know they see us as savages and heathens, we know what they say, but we are not as they claim. We are different, surely, but does not make us bad people simply because we do not share the same views and beliefs?” she asked as she started to drag in some of the small trunks containing your items. You shook your head with a small smile; no, surely it did not make them any less human. They were already a warmer people than any of the northerners you’d encountered.

Standing up and helping her, she looked at with you with a curious glance. You just carried on, not wanting to let her do all of the work; why should you?

“I can handle it, my lady,” she insisted, but you refused to back down. You repeated your name and insisted that she call you that, “even if you are to be the princess?”

“I take no joy or pride in hollow titles or unnecessary formalities,” you promised her, “you and I are not different are we? We’re both women, subject to the harsh reality of what that entails and the laws of the gods and men. I insist, please, that you call me by my given name. And I am more than capable of helping to unpack my own items. You musn’t do it all alone.

Asha gave you a big grin as she nodded, surprised by your genial approach. Those she had met from the lands north of Dorne would never dare to renounce a title so freely, or speak so candidly with her. But you did; Oberyn would like you, she thought to herself, “as you wish...I think you will like Dorne, it will suit you well. We do not believe that men hold any superior power over women, nor do we believe that women should be reduced to standing behind a man. Everyone is equal here, just as the gods willed it.”

“And yet here I am, to be married to a man I do not know and that does know me and give him an heir,” there was a slight tone of bitterness to your voice that you hadn’t quite intended. You sighed and shook your head in apology, knowing she had nothing to do with your fortune, “I’m sorry...I should not have lashed out at you.”

“It’s quite alright,” she insisted, “I know how it seems is harsh, but I assure you that not everything is as it seems. It must be shocking to come to a new home and be surrounded by only strangers, but I think you will be just fine; if nothing else you will provide a good wit to match Prince Doran.”

“Prince Doran?” you asked as she nodded, “and he is...”

“I dare they must have kept you quite in the dark about all of this,” you nodded as you allowed yourself to sit on the soft bed, testing it out and finding it just as soft as you liked, “Prince Doran is the ruler of Dorne, his oldest daughter Princess Arianne is his heir and Oberyn is his brother.”

“Oh,” you felt silly, and a bit dumb not being privy to any of this information before. It didn’t surprise you though; your mother did not care for the Martells and it was unlikely that she knew much of this information herself, “I apologize for not being as well versed in your land and people as I should be.”

“There is no need,” she laid out some of your dresses, placing them in the closet that stood against the wall, “one thing you will need to learn is that in Dorne we do not apologize. There is no reason to ever apologize for one’s true self, right? You were not to know this information, so how should you have known? You will learn in time. It is your home now and we are your people.”

“How is that I already feel so much warmer and lighter here than I have in years in my own home, the place I was birthed?” you let out a small laugh in spite of yourself and stood back up, spying some fine silks draped over the chair that was placed in front of the small writing desk, “what are these?”

“Silks,” Asha watched your face turn into a small smile as you touched the delicate fabrics and studied the colors, “they’re a gift from -”

“The prince,” you finished for her and she just nodded with a smile.

“He had a feeling that you wouldn’t be well prepared for the heat and wanted to provide you with something more suitable,” you lifted a few pieces up, holding them against your body. They were lovely, designed and crafted with care and expert stitching, “he asked about your coloring to make sure they’d suit you. And of course, some of the Martell gold and orange had to be included.”

“They are wonderful...absolutely beautiful,” a small sense of satisfaction worked its way into your bones as you realized that your mother would absolutely abhor the clothing, declaring crude and too revealing. But you loved the pieces, knowing they’d be perfect for the hot afternoons and warm evenings you’d come to expect, “this prince...he’s very kind.”

“He can...rough around the edges, but underneath the exterior he presents, he is a most kind and gentle man. His people love him and he loves them as well,” she answered, and you could easily sense the admiration she had for him. Maybe...just maybe, if this prince proved to be as fair and just as Asha made him out to be, things wouldn’t be a complete nightmare, “he wanted to be here to greet you, but unfortunately his duties have kept him away a bit longer than he intended. He will be back in time for your wedding.”

Wedding. Of course. You had somehow forgotten that little detail; this was just some sort of vacation or leisure trip. This was a whole new life you were walking into.

“Oh,” you tried to hide the nervous lilt of voice, but Asha picked up on it anyway. For someone so young, she was very attuned to your emotions. She stood next to you and slowly, as if testing the waters, put an arm around your shoulders. This time, you let her. You let her pull you into a hug and hold onto you tightly as you let your body relax into the comfort of her own. You were almost like clay, melting into her arms; it had been so long since you had experienced the touch of another. She smelled of fresh citrus and spices, a scent you already found comforting, “thank you, Asha. You have been more kind than I could have ever anticipated. It is not lost on me...I should be proud to consider you a friend.”

“And I you,” she insisted, you were quickly interrupted by a loud throat clear from the entrance to your new space. Your oldest brother, now the Lord of Honeyholt in your father’s absence, was standing there, an impatient look on his face. Asha pulled back and bowed her head in reverence, “my lord.”

“Come and make sure your goodbyes, sister,” he completely ignored Asha and turned his cold gaze to yours. Never having been close with any of your brothers, besides the youngest, you harbored no strong feelings for him. He was a fine man, a decent lord, but nothing compared to your father. The halls of Honeyholt were never the same since he sat at the head of the table, “we must leave soon to make it back before our visitors from the Crownlands come.”

“You just mean to leave me here,” it was not a question, but a cold statement of fact, “you do not intend to stay and watch me marry? It is only a short time away.”

“We do not have time,” he insisted already starting to walk away, “besides, what is there to celebrate? You’re married off far too late to...a Martell. Hardly calls for celebration.”

“Goodbye brother,” you called after him, not even bothering to follow and bid anyone else a farewell and a safe journey back, “if that is the way you feel, to leave your only sister thus, then so be it. I wish you, nor our brothers, nor mother any ill will, but I cannot say I will be amiss of any of you.”

“Watch your tongue,” he growled at you from the foot of the stairs, “you are lucky to be my sister or I would have you thrown out long ago. You taint our name and have no respect for decency. You’re just like father; weak and a fool. Always thinking without your brain.”

“So with my heart?” you spat at him, “how dare you take father’s name in vain! He’s more of a man, father, and lord than you will be ever be.”

“And look where that got him,” he reminded you of the harsh reality that your favorite person, the one that you had idolized growing up, was gone, “an early grave.”

“He was ill-”

“It does matter. I am lord now and you will obey me,” he shook his head, “you know, mother was smart to finally marry you off. At least you will be able to take the name of Martell and will stop bringing shame to ours. You are no sister of mine, you can join these...barbarians, become one of them,”

“If I see you again, it will be on your deathbed,” you insisted, feeling a tears of sheer anger roll down your cheeks, as your body trembled with frustration, “I guarantee it. You are no brother of mine.”

He glowered at you before turning around and storming off, his robes trailing behind him. You’d never shared a great appreciation or love for him, but this was a harsh blow nonetheless. Your family, the only one you’d ever know was so content to just cart you off. You wondered how long he had waited for this day - but it didn’t matter. Just like that you had no more home in Honeyholt. Sunspear, and Dorne, was your home now. Even if it was a life you did not desire, at least it would be your own.

“I’m sorry,” Asha appeared at your side, a concerned expression on her face at the heated exchanged. You choked back the few sobs that threatened to bubble up in your throat. You’d essentially just lost the little bit of family you had, “I did not expect such a response. Family means much to Dornishmen, sweet dove. You will never have to feel alone or unloved here.”

“Thank you,” you gave her a small smile, “I hope my family does not dishonor Prince Doran. I have not even meet the man who is to be my brother and already I bring chaos.”

“Prince Doran would never hold the actions of them against you,” she promised, “he shall be glad to meet you and welcome you into his family. As will we all. I can show you around the palace, if you so desire, and the water gardens. They’re most beautiful, especially during the peak of heat, such as this.”

“Will I meet Prince Doran today?” you were curious about meeting your new family, albeit the tiniest bit hopeful. It could be no worse than what you had just experienced.

“I’m afraid both princes will not return until tomorrow,” she explained, “however, they are preparing a feast in your honor for this evening. The Princess is here, and I am sure she will be delighted to meet you. She’s a brilliant combination of her father and uncle, and will surely revel in your company, she grows bored of monotony.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Dinner had been an...interesting affair. You’d gotten to meet the princess, her mother, and many other members of the household and those who worked for and were dear to the Martells - to your family. It was a shocking contrast to the normally reserved and quiet meals that were had in the dreary dining hall of your former home.

The large tables in the garden were laden with delicious foods from all of Dorne, including the famed Dornish wine and everyone sat together, it did not matter their rank, station, or title. They were happy, kind, and jovial, welcoming you with open arms to Sunspear and their family. It was a warmth you had not known before, but not unwelcome. It was a sight to see everyone so happy, joking and laughing, teasing each other until late into the night; they had no reservations, no fears, no inhibitions. And you loved that about them immediately.

Your heart had almost stopped when the princess had presented you with a beautiful golden bracelet, containing the Martell sun entwined with the little dove of your own house. She had gently clasped it around your wrist, before kissing your cheeks gently. You would think of her, her generosity and warmth whenever you wore it.

But even the excitement and relief that the evening had provided was not enough to stave off the tears that found you late in the evening as you sat on the balcony connected to your quarters. You’d been studying the starry night sky, admiring how it glittered over the red dunes of the desert, when you were hit with a wave of sadness that you couldn’t ward of. A few hot, warm, salty tears dripped down your cheeks as you slowly repeated the names of the constellations you could see, stopping only when a small knock came at your door.

You dabbed at your eyes and turned around to see who the visitor was, but Arianne slowly let herself in. You gave her a small smile and she joined you on the balcony, without a word, but a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I am sorry that you must see me in such a state,” you apologized but she shook her head. She was about to open her mouth, but you stopped her with a small smile, already knowing what she was going to say, “do not apologize for being your true self.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a small laugh, rich and musical, “see you’re learning already - you’ll fit in perfectly.”

You remained silent for a moment and let out a long sigh.

“What plagues you so?” she asked gently, “besides the loss of your family?”

“Today has proven it is no real loss,” you admitted, “I am...I do not know if I can do this.”

“Marry my uncle?”

“Yes,” you said quietly, “I vowed to myself that I would never marry someone I did not love, and I know this sounds silly, but my father, before his death, always promised me that he would never send me off to do so unless I desired it. And now...”

“It is not easy.”

“No,” you sighed, a fresh wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, “I cannot bring myself to love someone just because I am required to, nor have a desire to be treated as a sow to be used for heirs. I do not know if I can do this, to myself or your uncle.”

“I realize this is very little consolation, but I do think I might know how you to help, if only a small bit,” she had your attention and you gave her a curious glance, “think of it as a marriage only in name.”

“Only in name?”

“Precisely,” she explained, “you will marry Oberyn, and that will the end of it. You do not owe him an heir and he would never expect one from you. He has eight daughters already, some nearing your age, and he loves them dearly. They keep him busy and if you do not desire children he would never force one on you. You do not have to love him, he knows you likely never will, but just respect him; for outside purposes you will be husband and wife, but behind closed doors, and to those here in Dorne, who not care about such things, it will not matter.”

“Oh?”

“Give it some time and you will find a lover, a man or a woman, or many lovers,” she explained, “love should not be contained so willfully, unless two people desire it. you are free to explore and take as lovers as you want. You give and take love.”

“Oberyn...has a lover,” why you suddenly felt shy, you did not know. Certainly it could not be jealousy? You did not know him nor care for him, and clearly did not love him, but something inside you panged slightly. How strange it would be to be married to a man with a different lover.

“He had a lover, a paramour by the name of Ellaria Sand,” she explained and you found yourself intrigued, “she’s a most kind, generous and lovely woman, and mother to four of his daughters. She is beautiful as she is kind and still comes around often, but she has left his bed sometime ago and has returned to her childhood home in Helholt.”

“Oh?” you wondered if it had anything to do with you, but you had your doubts. What power would you, a mere child compared to his longtime lover hold?

“It was amicable, I believe. They remain friends, and both love their daughters deeply. I think a strong bond and love remains between them, but nothing romantic,” she expanded, but it did not ease your nerves, “I’m sure you will meet her at some point, she comes around not infrequently, but you have nothing to worry about. She will love you, as we already do as well. She will understand what your position as Oberyn’s wife means.”

“Does he take other lovers still?”

“As far as I know,” she shrugged, not deeply concerned with her uncle’s affairs, “anything further than that you will have to discuss among yourselves.”

“I see,” you let out a long sigh and let your shoulders slump, finding little solace in her words. She was trying her best, but it did not chase away all your fears, “still I...”

“Remember,” she said softly, “name only. You will not have be with him, in his presence, any more than you desire. He will grant you many liberties and freedoms. The ways things work between a husband and wife are very different here in Dorne than in the North. You will not be confined to the palace or your husband, you will have your own voice here.”

“Such a strange concept,” you mused as she shrugged, “all my life I’ve been told that my only goal in life is to behave, marry a nobleman, and bear him children. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Welcome to Dorne, sweet dove,” Arianne pressed a light kiss to the side of your head, before moving to leave your chambers, leaving you alone with your thoughts, “and welcome to House Martell.”

You watched her go without another word, envying her easy going personality and liveliness. She’s known this her whole life, and yet she was so happy; maybe there was something to this Dornish way of life. Maybe you could find some purchase here and make a happy little life for yourself. With or without your husband at your side.

You straightened up and stretched, raising your arms above your head as you looked at the moon, shining among the stars. Maybe...this did not have to be as bad as you had originally thought; maybe Dorne could be your own sanctuary. Your head was swimming with so many thoughts, and you were overwhelmed with a tiredness you had not known in ages. You walked back into your bedchamber, leaving the doors open to let in the warm evening breeze. It was quiet now, a quiet that you’d never really experience. Peaceful.

Oberyn watched you moved back inside from his spot in the courtyard of the palace. He and Doran had returned early, at his behest, but not early enough for a proper introduction. He been curious to meet his bride, the wild girl from the North that refused to be tamed. He had overheard you and Arianne, listening intently to your every word, clinging on to them to try and figure out how to best serve you. He wanted you to be happy, he hoped you would be, and if you wanted nothing to do with him, then he would respect that as well.

Whatever you desired, Oberyn Martell was going to make sure you had it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell #prince oberyn x reader #got #oberyn x reader #reader insert #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #i miss my prince #in name only series

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

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The Owner of His Heart. ||A.R

AN: DO NOT CLICK KEEP READING IF YOU DIDNT NOT WATCH THE MOVE.. SPOILERS AHEAD… Also excuse my writing it’s been months since I’ve written anything !

Summary: before spoilers… Reader and Arvin had gone out a couple times but never labeled their relationship but one day when Arvin needs someone, she’s there.

Warning: Just the whole situation with the preacher, death, angst, and maybe a few curses?

The news was unsettling, the kind that sat deep inside the pit of one’s stomach, squeezing and aching, it made Y/N’s chest heavy with sadness. The news of Lenora’s death was surprising, a good God loving girl like her would never commit such a sin but there she lays with no one here., y/n is the only other person but her family standing above Lenora’s casket. Grandma Russel sobbing over the light-colored tomb, Uncle Earskell didn’t say much. As for Arvin she tried to get him to open up but, it didn’t seem like the right time to speak to him but her heart was hurting for his loss.

The preacher didn’t bother to come out and say any words, a suicide, a sinner.

Hesitantly she steps forward, hand comforting the lower back of Arvin. Arvin stiffens but he doesn’t bother to move away from it but only signs. “Arvin.” It’s a failed attempt to hold his hand because he’s almost half way down the dirt road before any other words could follow.

“just give him time sweetheart’” Grandma Russel manages to say, “He will come to you when he needs you.”

He always did. The couple were pretty much inseparable, best friends since childhood even walked together to school until graduation. Tears filled her eyes, Lenora had always been her friend too. They had only became more because the pressure to settle down and find a wife was weighed heavily on Arvin’s shoulders, he tried and tried but none of them clicked. One day it hit him, why wouldn’t he take his best friend out? There was no awkward introduction, no fakeness, she was the realist person he’s ever known.

At first it was a little awkward, so shocked that Arvin asked, she thought it was a joke and laughed in his face. He played it off cooly, but the look on his face said it all, not to mention how flush his cheeks were. “Wait you’re serious Arvin?”

“Mmm.” He confirms, “we already know everything about each other, it’s real between us. Just me and you, besides you ain’t the worst person I’ve ever seen.”

“wow thanks.” Her eyes roll make him laugh, he sucks in his bottom lip and smiles. “I’m just kidding darlin’, you’re beautiful.”

“Am I now?” A playful grin reaching her eyes as she leans over the counter of the diner. “So you’re confession your undying love for me officially?”

“yeah, I guess I am.” Tom shift uncomfortably in his seat as she tops of his coffee. It’s that sweet smile he’s so used too, but this time it send butterflies twirling in his stomach, he had always had a crush when he was younger but as the world grew colder and duller, he never acted on it. “I guess I’ll let you take me out, but we are not going anywhere the creepy abandoned house you always try to get me to go in.”

“why darlin’? Afraid of ghost?” Tom would never go there on a first date, a beautiful woman deserved something with flowers and big bright lights with dinner. Besides, he was pretty sure that his nan would actually kill him if he did anything but show Y/N the udder most respect.

That was only weeks ago, of course they shared some kisses here and there, he would pick her up for picnics, and dinner dates but being so caught up with each other talking about labels never came up.. but it was two people, best friends enjoying the company of one another.

Now she stood over Lenora’s grave watching Arvin’s figure disappear past the tree line, heart heavy with loss. Giving him time is what is best, a few hours later she found herself knocking on the Russel’s door, a pie in hand. They considered her family of grieving with them but it didn’t feel right showing up with nothing.

“Grandma.” She presses a kiss to older woman’s cheek stepping through the doorway, “Did you eat anything? Want me to make some dinner?”

“all taking care of, maybe you could convince Arvin to eat though, he hasn’t left his room since.” Without a second thought she grabbed the plate from the table and made it through the hall way to Arvin’s room. There’s knock but there’s no answer, it quiet, something that is not familiar when Arvin’s involved.

Pressing against the door she opens it slowly, gripping the plate with two hands once the door is closed. “Arvin, you gotta eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” It muffled from how tightly the blanket was wrapped around him, hoarse from the throbbing inside of his throat. The whole room felt as if it was spinning, heavy eyes with irritated cheeks for the amount of times he’s wiped them.

“hey.” It’s a soft coo as she places the food on the stand next to the bed. “Look at me.”

The brown doe eyes glance up sadly, red with pressure, a ring of redness making it look like he hasn’t slept in days. “Do you need anything? I want to make this better Arvin.”

“I want you to leave.” He admits, pain twisting into his features. “I’m cursed, every single person I love has killed themselves, You’re it going to get caught up in my evil. First my daddy now my sister, who’s next?”

His breathing was increasing, growing with every word as his chest started to rise and fall. “I’m no good for anyone.”

She was stunned for a second, not ever seeing him like this. Of course, he’s always been a gentle kid with way more feelings then he would like to admit but watching the person you love totally break down into a panic attack was unsettling. Her fingers squeeze his gently, she’s here don’t worry.

“Arvin, that’s not true. You are not evil.” She frowns, without him even noticing managing to slip underneath the blanket wrapping her arms around his shoulders, face pressing against the swells of her chest. Fingers play with the soft brown strings. “What happen to them was an act -.”

“If you say God I might scream.” Arvin doesn’t fight the comfort, the softness of her breast, sweet smell of perfume relaxes him completely.

“I was going to say an act of themselves. You are not responsible for others choices, you can’t change what will happen.” Arvin doesn’t say anything else, he stews in the words.

“Now,” Soft pads trace his jaw, touching the highs of his cheeks to make his eyes meet hers. “I don’t want to ever hear any of that ‘I’m cursed’ bullshit again, it is not you. You are not evil and you haven’t lost everyone that loves you.”

Arvin doesn’t need anything else said, he knew exactly what she meant. All he could think was my best-friend, my lover, he pushes up from the bed slowly pressing his lips to hers. It was surprising but without a second thought her lips found his back, meeting in a slow, meaningful kiss. “Imma marry you.”

“oh that’s it? No asking me, nothing?” He rolls his eyes lightly, the first smile in days had graced his face, it was short lived but the sight made her heart flutter.

“ya see babe? I think you knew you were going to marry me the moment you laid eyes on me, always trying to make kissy face when we were younger.” He’s playful, something about growing up together makes it easy to be.

“well who’s making kissy face now?” Arvin’s lips meet hers once again, a subtle way to show his defeat.

A few days later despite how empty his chest felt he went back to work, mostly for the ambition of buying that shinny ring he promised. He was hoping in two weeks he’d have enough to ask properly, he wanted the prettiest one for his girl.

The sheriff stopped him a few day later, right when he was ready to go home, whispers of Lenora being pregnant out of wedlock but it didn’t make any sense. Why would she kill yourself over a baby? She would have all the support in the world, and would have made a great mother.

Then it hit him, who’s baby was it? The only time she’d ever spend was at her mother’s grave. Her mother’s grave and then the preacher… It all suddenly made sense. He felt sick to his stomach as he decided on walking home.. did he tell Nana? It would only break her heart more.

Walking past the cemetery he couldn’t help but notice the flashy, white car. He was about to give the preacher a piece of his mind before a girl no older then sixteen had climbed into the back of it, He couldn’t watch, he felt sick besides he had all of the evidence he needed.

The preacher had taken advantage of her, using God to trick her, and then not wanting to be shammed found a way to fix it. Lenora killed herself because she was afraid of the shame.

Tom slammed the door rather fast, walking right past the two most important women in his life in the kitchen and headed straight for his bedroom. The gun, he needed the gun that was in that stupid box under the bed.

“Arv? Is everything okay honey?” Of course she was here, why couldn’t you just stay away and make this less hard? It was so hard to make a decision when the voice of an angel would call him back to reality.

Killing the preacher meant breaking his promise to her, he wouldn’t marry her but run away, betray every word he said. Lenora deserved better, she deserved revenge.

On the topic of marriage it only made him face the fact that Lenora will never get married now because of that preacher and made his hands shake, tears of frustration run down his cheeks. His head was pounding from all the thinking, fighting with himself over wrong and right.

She enters without warning with a sigh, delicate fingers wrapping around him. “It’s okay, shhh.”

One more night with his love couldn’t hurt, one more night filled with comfort. After all the preacher wasn’t going anywhere. “What happened?”

“I’m fine darlin’,” Arvin wipes his tear filled cheeks, smiling sadly at her. Of course he wasn’t going to tell her, he had to convince her he was fine. “I jus’ miss her is all.”

“Me too, it’s not the same without her.” He nods in agreement wrapping his arms tightly around her back, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “I love you, and I don’t want you to forget it.”

“I love you to Arv.” Nothing else was said, she decided to stay that night with him. It was surprising.. sharing a bed with a man that is not yet her husband but after him begging it was hard to say no, especially in his time of grieving. Arvin wanted to hold her one last night before he slips away in the morning, and that is exactly what he did. All night held her, stole small kisses as she slept. Before the sun even reached the sky he was gone, but not before placing the small box on the night table.

It was nothing fancy, a small rock with a shiny silver band but it felt right since it rightfully belonged to her. The owner of his heart. With one last kiss to her forehead Arvin was gone but it would not be the last time they meet. Faith had other plans for the pair, their destiny had been written long ago.

#arvin russell #arvin russel x reader #tom holland #the devil all the time

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angelic-serenade · 5 years ago

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✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

request: 🌟 Hellou!! I love ur work!! ❤️❤️❤️ Is it possible tó ha e a Alastor and younger(like 4 years younger) reader who have nightmares of his death sonetimes, cause she saw itt Back then, and go to big bother Alastor for comfort? 🦌

requested by: anon

a/n: okay so this was supposed to be a quick one-shot but my hand slipped and I wrote 9500+ words instead. oops. anyway, I hope this meets your expectations, enjoy!

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

pairing: Alastor x sister! reader

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

warnings: mentions of death, bit of angst, traumatic events, toxic relationship if you squint, Alastor being Alastor but softer for reader

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

It never rained down in Hell, no matter how ardently you had sometimes wished to feel the drops pouring down your robes. Even during your longest nights, the ones haunted by nightmares and long-forgotten memories resurfacing at your weakest, it would never rain like it did in those Gothic Novels your darling brother used to read you back in the day: you were no virtuous protagonist and never would the skies cry for your misery. It was probably one of the worst downsides of being stuck in Hell for all eternity: the equally eternal blood red sky forever looming over your head, serving as a reminder of your infernal punishment.

When you'd wake up in the middle of the night, after a particularly vivid nightmare, there was no pouring rain to muffle the sound of your hopeless wailings, no thunder to distract your spinning mind from its panic. Therefore, you found yourself continously seeking comfort from the only person you held dear to your now dead cold heart: Alastor, The Radio Demon, whom you had the privilege to refer to as your darling brother (at least in the privacy of your own bedchamber) - older brother to be precise, even if only by a few years. You had always been extremely fond of your sibiling, looking up to him as a role model - definitely not your wisest decision since it had landed you among the sinners of Hell. That's not to say you had any regrets, Heaven seemed like an awfully dreadful and boring place if you were to be completely honest.

Alastor, on his part, had affectionately doted on you back on the surface, taking his little sweetling under his protective wing as if his sole purpose in life had been to take care of you. As a consequence, on more occasions than you cared to remember, you had felt utterly asphixiated by your brother's undivided attention all your life, and quarrels had been a daily occurrence whenever his protective behavior clashed with your own desire for freedom. Your lovely mother had always been there to try and defuse your heated altercations, the poor woman; your dear brother and you, however, both shared the same stubbornness and desire to prevail on others, so that whenever your strong personalities came to oppose, trouble was always certain to follow suit.

You wished you'd appreciated his concerns more when you had been given the chance. Now in the afterlife, shows of affection were hard to come by. Mayhap that had been the worst punishment inflicted upon you after death: the privilege of having your dear brother by your side without actually being able to cherish and bask in his caring regards. Mayhap the illustrious Dante had been right in his musings all along: the law of retaliation had taken away from you the one thing you had never really appreciated in life, making you realize just how much you had taken for granted. Now that your brother had become Hell's greatest menace, an overlord to make things worse, weakness in any shape or form could and would not be tolerated under any circumstance, for both his and your sake.

Luckily, no demon in the seven circles suspected that the feared Radio Demon had any siblings to begin with, thanks to Alastor's foresight.

Your identity was to be kept secret at all costs in order to avoid undesired repercussions. If anyone were to even suspect you had any kind of connection to the Radio Demon - Alastor had told you - overlords and lesser demons alike would be at your throat in the span of a heartbeat. If given the chance, no enemy of his would ever hesitate to stoop as low as to attack him were it hurt the most, where he was most vulnerable. And that chance, he was not willing to give any time soon. You both had already died once and you were not keen on repeating the experience.

So you had followed his every order ever since your fall into the pits, leading a life death away from your darling brother and his chaotic ways - the one thing he hadn't been able to prevent in life -, keeping a low profile as a common denizen of Hell. Alastor would unsuspiciously check up on you every now and then, but his visits had been as rare as it was to see an angel in Hell - seeing him once a year was truly an unfair torture. Time went by and you grew more and more lonely as you mostly kept to yourself and wasted your days away in a nice apartment away from prying eyes. You were a nobody in Hell, and that was how things were meant to be.

Things changed when Alastor unexpectedly showed up at your doorstep for the second time in a year, blabbering about the newest project he'd involved himself with. His words betrayed unusual enthusiasm, a mood you had learned to be usually spurred on by the prospect of carnage and bloodshed or his precious radio broadcasts. Whenever he came to see you, he always showered you in gifts and praise, but it had been centuries since you had seen your brother so excited over... anything, really. Therefore, witnessing his cheeriness brought a genuine smile on your face. You were a little jealous you weren't the reason why he felt so giddy, but you couldn't complain as spending time with him was the greatest gift you could ever ask for these days. So when he told you you'd be moving into this phantomatic Hazbin Hotel, where he'd be staying for a while as well, you were impossibly ecstatic. Alastor had gently caressed your cheek and, in one of his rare moments of tenderness, softened his voice as if to lull you away:

“My dear, it has always pained me so to leave you here to your lonesome, but I am certain you understand that I always ever meant to protect you from harm.”

Unexpectedly, as most of his actions were, your dear brother spun you around into his arms as if he were coaxing you into a dance - which would probably be the case, knowing him. His words were impossibly haughty now, as if a switch had gone off in his mind:

“But now sweetling, now the time has come to finally put an end to this painful arrangement. You'll be joining me at this whimsical Hazbin Hotel our dear princess is so enthusiastic about!”

You knew better than to question Alastor and his ways, so you simply nodded your approval, glad to finally be able to leave that god forsaken apartment you had been locked in for far more than you cared to admit. And so you moved to the hotel - still keeping your true identity a secret, mind you. You were introduced as one of Alastor's acquantances, much like both Niffty and Husk were. Nobody questioned your unexpected presence and Charlie (much more than everybody else) welcomed you with opened arms into her precious hotel. When you offered to lend a hand with whatever she needed, she was utterly ecstatic. All in all, you were quick to adapt to the new situation.

The new accommodation, however, brought about quite a lot of new issues as well.

Spending so much time with Astor, for one, even if pretending not to be as close as siblings should be, awakened long forgotten memories about your life on Earth, most of which you would have preferred to keep locked away. During your very busy days, you were able to distract yourself from your scattered thoughts and memories; at night, however, your subconscious relentlessly haunted you in the form of nightmares and there was nothing you could really do to prevent it.

It was inevitable that you'd start losing sleep, as the only way to evade the cage that your mind had become was not to sleep at all. Astor had grown increasingly worried about your sleep-deprived state, even if he tried not to show it, masking his concern with his usual smile and charming talks:

“You will chase away any potential patrons looking so disheveled and shabby, my dear. Charlie will surely be heartbroken.”

You wouldn't have put it past him to manipulate you through guilt, but you knew that Alastor was truly worried about your health. His gaze, cryptic to most, felt all too familiar to you, just like the expressiveness of his smile held no secrets from you anymore. Needless to say, as fond of him as you were, you tried to sleep once again.

Then one night everything changed: it had been the worst night of your undead life, and the best one too.

The deafening sound of gunshots had echoed through your unconscious mind, increasingly loud footsteps and dogs barking so loud that you subconsciously jerked in your sleep. A call to your name, desperate, hopeless and scared. You saw him, his beautiful maroon eyes that had once only pooled in fondness for you, now dark and miserable. But they held promise too, a promise to fulfill maybe someday, in another life.

“I'm sorry (Y/N)”

His smile had dropped.

So had you.

You woke up screaming, trashing about in your bed. Sweat clung to your brow, your mind in a frenzied panic searched for something concrete and real to cling to. Was your brother alright? Satan, you hoped so. He had to be, he couldn't leave you again, you had to go to him, to see him, you didn't want to lose him again, you wouldn't bear the pain - you almost tripped in the bedsheets as you scrambled to the door.

When you arrived to Alastor's door, you had yet to calm down. You rapidly knocked on the hard wood, agitation evident in both your jerky movements and shivering hands.

“Alastor, Alastor, please. Open up. It's me” you desperately whispered.

As the door gently opened, your brother stepped into the darkness of the hallway and you unceremoniously flung yourself to him, clinging to his neck as if it were your lifeline. Your tears wet his robes, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to apologize. You felt like you had almost lost him again after all those years of seclusion.

But he was alive and he was with you. That's all you could hope for and far more than you thought you deserved.

Alastor uncharacteristically started to pat your head, as if trying to console you even though he had little to no experience in that area. His movements were uncertain, but as you lifted your head from his chest to gaze into his eyes, you realized no words would ever convey as much affection as Alastor's eyes did in that brief moment. His smile never faltered - even if it had become a bit strained - but you hadn't expected it to. It made you smile through your tears, despite yourself. You realized in that moment you'll forever be the only one allowed to touch Alastor without eliciting his wrath. That fact alone enough for you to truly appreciate the amount of control he'd give up in order to comfort you. He gently brought you to his bed and sat you down next to him.

“Are you quite alright sister dear? You know, those awful tears don't suit you at all! I rather much prefer your blinding smile!”

You smiled wider this time, for him, to let him know that you were indeed grateful.

“Oh, now that wasn't so difficult, was it?”

When he kissed your forehead, you almost broke up crying once again: it had been so long since you and your brother had been so close. The gesture warmed your long dead heart and you tried to return the favor by kissing his cheek. Nobody had ever been that intimate with the Radio Demon and lived to tell the tale, but in that moment he was no demon of hell: he was just Alastor, your dear brother who had doted on you in life and kept protecting you in death too - even though his ways weren't the most orthodox.

“I missed you Al. Please, don't ever leave me again.”

“I most certainly shall not, my sweet little darling. It's a promise.”

You were glad he let you stay with him for the rest of the night. No words were needed as he brought you close and took your hands into his. You both laid on the bed, in a rare moment of peace and quiet. It reminded you of your childhood on Earth and how you'd always sneak out of your room during the night to sleep next to him - you had always been afraid of the dark after all. Only in your adulthood had you learned that there are worse things than darkness one should fear.

After eons of suffering and terrible loneliness, everything finally fell into its rightful place.

Alastor was safe and so were you.

That was all that mattered.

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noocturnalchild · 4 years ago

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SEALED IN MARBLE Chapter V A little Devil and an Invitation

“Then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, -“

You recited the bible, blowing a slow breath on the white crevice you shaped on the curve of a marbled nostril, while looking at him, playful.

“…and the man became a living creature.” He completed, refined priest, always ready to reply with verses.

You had established a fragile familiarity throughout the last few sessions with “Vicente”. Slowly exploring each other’s character, both moths drawn to the flame of your attraction to each other but too cautious to burn your fragile wings if you let it consume you.

You gave him an admirative look, that faded slowly to suspicious as he averted his eyes again.

“You seem to know your bible, sir” you laughed.

“Pious man, I see” you added when your model didn’t reply, a frown gracing his beautiful brows, it was maddening. The sight in front of you was maddening, his muscular, graceful shape sitting on a rock, white linen cloth loosely thrown on his manhood, barely covering his thighs as light danced on his skin, seemed to kiss his flesh warmly.

“You seem equally knowledgeable –“

You puffed a mocking laugh, that earned you a deeper frown.

“I have my special reasons…“ you simply said, careful not to give away too much too soon.

“Would you enlighten an ignorant man?” Francisco was outdoing himself, he who had never had a private conversation with a lady before, let alone with a young beautiful one, that seemed to not waste a chance of displaying a plump cleavage for his eyes, more and more emboldened, despite his miserable self.

You stilled, brought your pointed chisel to your lip, faking thought.

“Who was Adam to you, my dear Vicente? I’m always interested in knowing my models’ point of view” you lied.

Francisco blushed, trying to focus. He didn’t have to think too much, as his idea was already shaped, solid as stone.

“The first man, father of all men, and… the first sinner” He added, the weight of his faults hidden under his detached tone.

“hum” you smiled.

“Adam was a thinker, the first thinker.” You resumed your work, carefully curling the point of your tool in the insides of the marble crevice.

Francisco was silent for a moment as he assessed your reply. He definitely knew that he was in the presence of an unconventional woman, but now he was starting to believe that that woman was also… a skeptical?

“Would you, please, …give me more insight…?” he narrowed his eyes, and shifted in his position, investigating, forgetting his purpose.

“Gladly” you smiled brightly, cleaning your hands on your work dress, making it slide higher up your legs, and Francisco’s eyes fell instantly on the newly exposed flesh, and he suppressed a gulp.

Now that you shared your secret with him, you went through your sessions lighthearted and unveiled.

You couldn’t wear all the silk and lace and satin you wanted him to see, but you made sure to be garbed in your work dress, the one you wore when alone in your atelier, a light one, leaving the first buttons of your corset open, revealing the fresh swell of your breasts. You did your hair so that it cascaded sensually on your shoulders, rebel strands caressing your face. You didn’t forget to wear perfume, a hint too much? Maybe, you shrugged when you saw your reflection in the mirror, a radiant smile gracing your lips this time.

“Do you think Adam ate the apple without doing a little bit of thinking? Just because Eve tempted him, used her charms on him?” –you rolled your eyes at the thought— “Or maybe he wanted company just because he woke up one day and felt lonely?” You spoke low, in a tone of confidence, and you noticed with delight how Francisco’s ears heated.

Francisco’s heart looped in his stomach. The woman was blasphemous. How dare she? How dare she question the bible’s telling? How dare she, above all, be so confident and poised about it? Anger heated in his blood for a moment, as his jaw worked a pointed answer, but he then softened. Was it sadness that invaded him suddenly? Or was it compassion? Francisco felt something warmer, maybe weaker than sadness and stronger than compassion, stronger than his anger with you, was it longing? A feeling between wanting and not wanting? He schooled his face, judged better not to dwell on it.

Silence lingered.

“Why did you let me?” He questioned at last, betraying his train of thoughts, nonetheless.

“Let you?” You didn’t expect this question. It took you aback, avoiding the former subject.

“Yes, you let me. I can’t believe it was an accident. What I mean… is that you succeeded to keep your secret away from the world for… years? How many people did you receive in here? During all this time?” His tone betrayed a hint of distrust that he corrected quickly “They… any one could have known, but I saw you, you are a real master of disguise.” he smiled. And then, when he noticed your unease, he pushed gently; “Clarissa? Tell me”. His voice deepened and softened as these last words left his lips, and something in you trembled and burned, very deep.

his voice.

“You are not like them.” You swallowed, faking composure.

“How could you know.. “

If only you knew.

“I wanted to take a risk… I guess. I was tired…” You started shyly. “No… I… I wanted you to be different.” you smiled a little and looked at him with confidence as you exhaled a deep breath. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, mirroring your expression, amazed by your sincerity.

Yes, you wanted him to be different. You wanted to give him a chance, and give a chance to yourself. You had been in love before, and you had been loved, or at least, that’s what you thought. You were so much younger and naive. You fell in the arms of a treacherous lover, older than you, Captain of the Guards, a beautiful but so arrogant a man, volatile and cunning. He fogged your head with deceitful words and promises just to toss you away like dirt once he took your innocence and all the love you could give. He left you broken and blank and even if your good-natured heart learned to live and laugh again, it could never feel the gentle tug of that sweet heady feeling, that special sensation deep in your heart and core with any other man. You took lovers after him, just played the game and never allowed any feeling to seep into your cracked soul again. They were all artists, they shared pleasurable time with you and entertained amicable relations with you even when it was over, and you were thankful for the easy and diverting life you were leading, well, until he knocked at your door…

To you, “Vicente” seemed unlike anyone. He looked noble, with a sober character, a stoicism in his manners that you missed in men of your company. Maybe too conventional, to your dismay, but smart and educated. You wanted to know everything about his life. You couldn’t imagine a man like him being a simple servant all his life.

Maybe he lied, you thought.

Why didn’t you think of it earlier? Some of your models presented themselves under false names to protect their privacy, it was common practice. Some were noblemen and women, sons and daughters of rich notable people of the city, and even when they hid their identity, you ended up knowing. Miguel being the little nosy devil he was, he would go and bring you information you never asked for. This time, though, Miguel didn’t seem interested in helping you at all. He just hummed, uninterested. Vicente seemed just like any other servant to him, and he was indeed one, absolutely nothing worth digging for, boring. You found his lack of enthusiasm for the new comer unlike himself, but you just believed him, there was no reason he would lie to you, after all.

“Dear god! you look like a brothel madam!“ Miguel exclaimed earlier that morning, incapable of holding his laugh, while you were preparing yourself in front of your mirror.

“You devil! You spying?! Come here!” you laughed back, caught him by his collar, tussling his hair as both of you lost balance and rolled together on the floor.

“I’m so happy, Miguel” you sighed once you regained your breath.

“So am I, my Clarissa” he snuggled his skinny frame into yours and sighed, before looking you in the eyes, a worried shadow covering his eyes “But please… be careful”

You frowned.

“Look who’s giving me advice, my little spy” you pinched his chin. You brushed away the worried expression that didn’t leave his face at your pleasantry, deeming it to his knowledge of your past mistakes.

“Clarissa?” Miguel asked at your door gate as you resumed arranging your hair.

“Hum?” you beamed at him

“Nothing, er…maybe I should go and buy some butter? We are still receiving tomorrow evening?”

“Yes, yes, of course”

And like that, he left in a hurry and you heard his light footsteps running down the granite staircase.

Miguel’s heart was racing as he waited in front of your front door. Of course, he was going to buy butter for tomorrow’s dinner, but before that, he had one thing to do.

Francisco saw Miguel’s familiar silhouette waiting for something, or someone, in front of the atelier’s door. The boy had a habit to stroll around, busy chasing after birds and frogs; Francisco smiled, ready to greet him, but Miguel didn’t seem to return the courtesy. Instead, his eyes sparkled with something severe as he puffed his frail chest.

“Miguel!” Francisco started, stretching one big hand to pat the boy’s hair, but Miguel recoiled from his touch, frowning.

“Why are you still lying to her?” He shouted, voice barely that of a teen, but the words were enough to freeze the blood in Francisco’s veins.

Francisco’s heart leaped in his chest as his hands gripped the gate’s cool iron to ground him.

“Wha…”

“You know what I am talking about here, I know.” Miguel stood his ground.

“What do you know boy?” Francisco couldn’t let a boy intimidate him, so he straightened, full length facing the little being, but Miguel didn’t seem to flinch. Francisco couldn’t help but admire his courage.

“I see how you look at her! and I know you are lying to her! so if you can’t be with her, why are you still coming? Why are you here?”

“You don’t know anything, what are you even trying to tell me?”

“I know you secrets, priest!”

Garupe’s hands were sweating now, barely standing as he felt his whole life going down a black vortex. He must do something. Anything. He grabbed the boy’s sleeve and pulled him to a corner down the road.

Miguel started to yell but Garupe’s big hand blocked his mouth as the other hand kept him in an iron grip.

“Shhh! Miguel, listen to me, I will not hurt you, listen to me!” But the boy tried to bite the priest’s hand, that only tightened on his small face.

“Leehht mmm goh! Mmmmghh”

“Miguel! listen! I don’t want to harm you, and I don’t want to harm her, especially not her” Francisco desperately tried to explain, and Miguel seemed to see some truth in the priest’s eyes, because his taut muscles suddenly loosened up, pressure leaving them as calm regained him, ready to listen to whatever the priest wanted him to know.

He saw how you and Garupe were dancing around each other. He knew about your growing affection for him and he discerned the heated looks he was giving you when you didn’t pay attention… and the looks you were giving him, him paying attention or not. He was knowledgeable of your feelings, knowing you well. What he couldn’t know, were the intentions of “Vicente”, and he was resolved to clear out the matter with him, now.

Being his nosy self, he followed Francisco. The newcomer couldn’t escape Miguel’s tradition after all. As the priest regained his church, he was none the wiser of the small shadow following behind, feather light steps in the blemished darkness of the first hours of dawn.

Miguel lived with that knowledge for weeks, battling with himself over whether he should tell you or not. Smart as he was, he calculated the risks and implications of such discovery. He kept silent, relatively reassured by the fact that you would never take a step and unveil yourself for any of your models. Never, he was sure, even when he saw you visibly falling for that one, every day growing obsessed, not even trying to hide it from him. But now he was panicking. You might be falling into a big trap, you were unaware of it, but he knew, and he was more than determined to protect you, with all his small, punny self.

Miguel took in a deep breath, as Francisco let go of his mouth.

“What are your intentions? Priest?”

It didn’t go unnoticed, the manner he spoke the word “priest”, pejorative and disdainful. Garupe tried to ignore his frustration and anger, as he narrated the complete story to a round eyed Miguel.

They were both sitting on a nearby bench now, Miguel twisting a leaf between his skinny fingers.

“So… how do I know you are telling the truth? How can I be sure this is not a scheme of the church? To bring my master down? Because that’s what it seems to me!”

“No. No, no, no, no, a scheme?” Garupe panicked. From where Miguel fished such mature ideas, would never stop to amaze him. “The church has nothing to do in this matter! It’s me. It’s just me, and I’m a simple priest, no one else is involved. I swear to God…. to you, no one else knows your master’s identity besides me, and you. And no one ever will. Priest’s word”

To that Miguel laughed, a boyish toothy laugh.

“Priest’s word”

“What is that so funny now, boy” impatience was clear in his tone.

“For a priest, you seem fairly enamored” Miguel smirked, mischief sparkling in his beautiful green eyes.

Francisco blushed violently. He couldn’t believe the way he was being played by a child. He gulped, trying to school his expression into something… respectable.

“If helping you cousin is the reason of you being here, then why are you courting my master, treacherous priest?!” Miguel continued without letting Graupe place a word.

“ Cour… I am not! Watch your language b-“

“Yes! You are!” Miguel stared, and Francisco stared back. Several seconds passed and Garupe wondered if he was entering a staring contest with a boy.

“Do you love her?” Miguel asked, soft. Francisco had never seen deeper eyes on a boy’s face.

Did he? Francisco didn’t know yet. What he knew is how his body reacted in your presence, how warmth spread through him whenever he was with you. He wasn’t familiar with this kind of feelings, how was he supposed to answer? Was it love? Or attraction? Or just mere lust? He couldn’t know. He was ignorant of the heart’s matters.

“Would you tell her?” He asked back, as the tacit answer sank deep between them.

“Not if you will. Priests don’t take wives, I know that even if you want to, you can not. Don’t break her heart. Tell her.”

“ I will.” Garupe sighed.

“ Promise me” Miguel insisted

“ I will! when it’s appropriate, I will”

To that, Miguel stood up, stretched his arms, and in an unexpected movement, he stepped on the priest’s foot and run away.

“Fuu- Holy Graal!” Garupe shouted in pain.

“I will keep an eye on you! Priest!” Miguel shouted back, as his lean legs hurtled down the street.

Francisco replayed that encounter in his head while he was dressing after the session came to an end, lost in his thoughts as you approached him.

Your hopes were that he would accept your invitation for the dinner you were holding the next day, and you were determined to get a positive answer.

“Vicente” You spoke softly as your fingers traced lightly his still naked back, making him gasp. You were destroying the little restrain he tried to preserve lately with you. Those little touches, now and then, always coming when never expected, making blood rush to inappropriate places of his body. Were you a witch?

He remembered the promise he made to Miguel.

He stepped back, in an effort to impose some distance between your bodies, when every inch of him wanted just the opposite thing. To surrender, to give in, to let your touch linger and wait for you to take more. But he couldn’t and Miguel’s words weren’t the sole reason. How many times had he tried to remind himself that he was a man of God? He seemed to forget who he was every time he stepped into your little corner of heaven. It was something about the silence, the peace of the garden, the gentle splash of the fountain water and the quiet concentration in your beautiful face, while you worked your marble.

Your face fell a little at his obvious rebuff. You had been growing impatient. You had tried all your tricks to make the shy man open up to you, and even if you had been given positive indications in the way he looked at you, you couldn’t get him to act on it. You thought that it would be the matter of a session or two before you could make him yours, but the man was stubborn, for god knows which reasons! Piety? For he wasn’t married, as he told you… But now that you started to suspect he was lying to you, you couldn’t be sure anymore. But what pious man would pose naked, and for a woman?!

That tall mystery of a man was driving you crazy, making you none the less more determined to break the ice of his fortress.

“So I am giving a dinner tomorrow evening” You tried your softest tone “…and I thought, since you are in the confidence of my secret now, that you might be interested in sharing my little company”

He turned to face you, confusion visible on his gorgeous features, or was it fear?

“You will love them. They are a small group of artists, you can only be pleased by their company” You added, hope slowly fading to embarrassment as you saw his head shake in refusal.

“Clarissa, you know that I am not a free man. My master will not allow me more time than he already has” He tried to sound convincing, and for the most part, he wasn’t lying. He couldn’t honor your invitation, even if he really wanted to, if only just to spend some leisure time with you. But seeing your countenance now, God, he wanted to try, he couldn’t stand the look of disappointment and sadness you gave him.

He reached out, he didn’t think of anything but brushing off the sadness on your face as his hand cupped your cheek, thumb gently caressing the soft skin there, and you leaned into the touch. You missed his hands, the warmth they spread in you. It was different, the feeling of them on your face, and you wondered how they would feel in different places, more intimate places. You sighed as your eyes fluttered shut and he spoke.

“I am going to try, no promises, child”

You smiled at the nickname this time.

#father garupe #francisco garupe #garupe #fanfic #adam driver fan fic #religious guilt #francisco garupe x you #this is a love story

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coffeesuperhero · 4 years ago

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(Friend, here's a fic meme for you!) Ask meme time! Pick three fics you have written, post a favorite section of each and explain why it is your favorite. Then, pass it on! :D

Ah, thank you so much, my friend!! Putting this under a read more since it’s probably gonna get kinda long :D

01. two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl (the anatomy of apocalypse. remix).

A blast from the past for this one but it’s been Big Mood for me lately, so. This is a West Wing story, and a remix of a post-apoca Sam/CJ piece that I absolutely adore by furies.

When it is her time to sleep, he sits on the burnt ground and watches the cavernous expanse of thick ashen clouds that conceals the stars that travelers once used to light their way home. Even the illuminating glow of Polaris cannot pierce these clouds, but it is of no consequence: there is little use for celestial navigation when they have no terrestrial destination.

In a perpetual waking nightmare they trudge on through the wasteland of the world, communicating mostly through gestures, if at all. There is little to say that isn't as empty as they are, and as words begin to lose their meaning he tries, desperately, to hold onto language, the last best vestige of his humanity. When he can no longer summon the will to create sentences, he murmurs hollow words, any words he can recall, under invisible stars that died millions of years before he did. Stars are really only dead husks of gas and flame that look alive unless you know better, unless you know that what you're seeing is a lie that is older than the world.

When he looks at her he sees the stars. When he looks for the stars he sees nothing.

Somewhere above the smoke and ash and sulfuric acid aerosol there are still stars, and among them is Galileo. Centuries ago Galileo Galilei looked up at the stars, and for performing that miracle they told him that he was a sinner. Now he wanders a celestial battlefield littered with dead and dying heavenly bodies, exiled for eternity to the vast cold vacuum of space.

Galileo. He said it right, once. Now he says nothing.

The original story is all from CJ’s perspective so my remix is from Sam’s, which was an excuse to lean into language and the importance of it, how much Sam tries to cling to his own humanity after the world ends by turning it into story, or, when there is a lack of a cohesive narrative for his life any longer, into any words he can still find. It’s about two people who are falling apart. It’s bleak. There is not a lot of hope in it. It’s just two people slowly unraveling but determined to live anyway, which maybe is something I connect pretty strongly to at this moment in time!!!! This story also contains the line, “if wishes were horses, they would all have pale riders,” which I’m not gonna lie is one of my favorite lines I have ever written and i stopped trying to top it years ago because probably I will not.

02. you do not have to be good.

He cracks a shit ton of eggs into a flour well and wonders if Parker and Hardison are aware that where he comes from, feeding someone is sort of a silent I love you. He frowns at the eggs. Thinks about Hardison buying this place. Thinks about Parker not really seeing anything special about food until recently. Hardison knows, probably, that he feeds people because he loves them. Parker almost certainly doesn't.

He thinks of how he might explain that to her, and it gets complicated pretty quick, because the truth is that where he's from, food can also sort of be a silent fuck you, considering the number of times he's been to a potluck where something like ten different little old ladies brought the same recipe, each secretly thinking theirs was better than you-know-who's. He can still hear the whispered accusations, all these years later. I just saw Flora come through the front door with her casserole dish. You know she puts carrots in that, don't you? Yes, you heard me right. Carrots.

He laughs a little at that. Maybe not everything from home was bad, even if it does seem to have left him with enough baggage to fill a damn shipping container. He hadn't really realized how much he'd been resenting that lately until now, but as he carefully mixes eggs and flour together with a fork, he feels a little of that hurt slipping away. As far as he's concerned, whatever he grew up with, all this internalized whatever, was sort of like a potluck: you go down the line and fill your plate and sometimes you take shit you don't want because it makes other people happy, but in the end you eat what you like, and then later when Miss Flora isn't looking you dump the rest of the shit on your plate in the trash because goddamn, her corn casserole is the worst one you've ever tasted. Who puts carrots in that? The devil, probably.

By the time the eggs and the flour are a big ball of dough underneath his hands, he's chuckling to himself, and he honestly feels a whole lot better about everything. The knot of anxious tension that's been sitting in the pit of his stomach since he and Hardison had that talk is gone. Whoever he is, whatever he is, it'll come together. He just picked up a lot of shit that wasn't his, that's all, but it's not who he is, and he doesn't have to keep it. It's just a potluck. It's shitty corn casserole. It's okay. He can toss it out and make a better one.

I dumped a lot (A LOT) of my other Southern/Heartland queer feelings into this brace of Eliot-centric stories for Leverage fandom earlier this year, and this is maybe one of the most Me parts of the whole thing, because I’ve given myself the Potluck Talk on and off for at least twenty years now. The attitudes about food and potlucks and the battles between potluck cooks described here are also 100% pulled from my real life, and that’s why this is my favorite. This is just me, working through my shit while cooking, only it’s Eliot, too. We love a convenient excuse to tell our own stories and work through our own shit with fanfiction, right?

03. visible cities

This is an old The Phantom Tollbooth piece that I wrote for Yuletide several years ago, and since Yuletide signups are opening and I’m feeling nostalgic, here’s the opening bit from this piece:

Many long years have passed since Milo's journey through the kingdom of Wisdom. He is older now, which is to be expected: hardly anyone grows younger in the course of many long years, though the lessons he learned as a boy have kept his heart lighter than most.

The way into other worlds had been easy enough to find, once he knew where to look, and oh, the things he has seen.

Still, as exciting as his life has been, he thinks of his friends from Wisdom often, especially Tock, especially lately, for he never seems to have enough time. There's always something to see, something to do. There are mountains to climb and oceans to swim, and he's been climbing and swimming for so long now that he has quite forgotten what it is to do something that is entirely for himself.

"I'm as tired as can be," he murmurs, a wistful smile on his face as he strolls home, careful as ever to take in all of the sights along the way, for no matter how many times he walks this path, he always finds something new to delight him.

When he arrives at home, there is a box waiting for him, the packaging the same wonderful blue that he remembers from his childhood, and he smiles so brightly that an unhappy gentleman passing by the window at that exact moment suddenly remembers all of the kind things anyone had ever done for him and immediately hurries home to hug his children.

I just love this book so much, it was very much a Formative Book for me, and when I got this Yuletide assignment I did my best to write sort of a love letter to other media through the vehicle of this story. This passage in particular I like because I like the thought of Milo as an older man, still carrying the lessons he learned so long ago with him now. And I really liked the guy outside running home to hug his kids. It felt Very like the book to me, the book is full of those kinds of things and it’s one of the reasons I love it, this way that Milo is connected to other people even when he doesn’t know them, because...we are, and it’s a small detail, but it’s why I like this bit of the story.

#ask meme #correspondence #norationalthoughtrequired #my fic #fic

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zorria · 5 years ago

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CATH BETRAYS ARTHUR!!!

So 338 (Korean raw) is out and people have translated it so I’ll tell you what happened. But be warned this based off google translate so when we get the official translation I’ll change things but here’s what we know as of right now.

So this chapter starts out with Meliodas asking merlin if she just deceived the sins in order to revive chaos a monster that he believes doesn’t exist. But the lady of the last interupts Meliodas by saying that the sins have already meet chaos.

After the lady of the lake says this eveyone is confused because as far they know they’ve never meet chaos. Amongst all their confusion the lady of the lake tells them that they’ve ridden on the back of it while she (she?) was waiting for her resurrection. Hawk very confused asks Meliodas if he knows who it is. When he asks Meliodas he has a suprised look on his face. (I’m assuming he put the pieces together after the lady of the lake said that). Anyway hawk continues with saying it’s mom right you’re talking about mom and then he turns around to go ask mama hawk about it

Just as everyone turns around hawk mama starts to deflate (WHAT THE FUCK) hawk is very surprised and says mom?! the lady of the lake then explains that hawk mama was just a false image a seal placed on choas by the gods (I assume that’s the SD and DK) but it now has been broken. (All of the translations say this part is the weirdest so it’s mostly likey wrong translation wise but I’m not sure so take it with a grain of salt until we get the official translation) Hawk being eveyone suprised runs to hawk mama and thinks her body has dried up. King then pokes it and explains that her body hasn’t dried up but it’s actually moss that has multiple layers... and it’s just an empty shell. (WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEAN TO TELL US THAT HAWK MAMA ISNT REAL SHES JUST MOSS WHATTT)

Arthur then asks where the content is merlin then tells him the contents are inside of him from the moment he opened his eyes as the king of chaos. (Alright that’s freaky it’s like he’s being used as vessel for chaos... well I guess we already knew that) anyway after that Meliodas says that the magic Arthur used was unconstitutionally. Arthur says huh me!?! Meliodas then gets angry and tells merlin to return Arthur back to himself. (He says get Arthur back but same thing) merlin then says that this is proof that Arthur was chosen by the king of chaos and how it’s impossible given how chaos has now decided to coexsist with Arthur. (Are we sure it choose to coexist with Him and not just use him cause I get more of the using vibe than anything else just saying merlin).

Meliodas and merlin then start arguing with Meliodas asking her what about Arthur’s own free will. (At least Meliodas is thinking about Arthur unlike merlin) merlin then replies with feel free to blame... (BLAME WHO YOU CAUSE I HAVE BEEN) just as merlin was about to say who Arthur interupts them by putting his hands on Meliodas’s face and Merlins boob (alright Arthur weird way to make them stop fighting lol) Arthur then tells Them to not fight over him nor even for a second. He then tells them that he’s nothing more than a young chick (time for metaphors lol) and that when he was younger he had dream that when he was older he could protect people but he never could no matter how hard he tried. (Awe Arthur its okay) and his mind wouldve fallen into despair. (Oh god...)

Just as Arthur finishes saying this the world begins to warp like before when Arthur used chaos when he got angry at Meliodas. Eveyone begins to panic. As eveyone is panicking Arthur says that when he meet merlin she gave him a new way of thinking. He continues with a quote saying (I assume Merlin said this) “Then be the King who makes it possible and create a world where you can protect everything you want to keep!'' After he heard this from Merlin it changed his way of thinking and how he learned a lot from merlin. And he promised he would be a great king and make a new world that no one has every seen. (Sounds like merlin manipulated him more than her encouraging him just saying Arthur you’re being a tool right now...)

After he gets saying that all of the sins ask him out what!?! What the hell happened!?! (Yeah I’m with the sins on this one no one asked you to creat a new word Arthur especially one wheee you’re being manipulated and being crazy) after this cath makes his appearance and is happy. He says that he is happy that Arthur has finally come to his Senses at last (Cath seems very happy about this almost like he knew merlin was going to do this to Arthur and he’s happy she did) he has his own reasons for sayinf this but I’ll talk about that in a second. After cath appears ban is very confused as he never meet cath. (Because he was with king and Jericho trying to find Elaine) Gowther explains to him who cath is. But the lady of the lake gets very alarmed and says it is don’t tell me! (Shes very afraid of him which again I’ll touch upon in a little bit but there’s a very good reason for it) cath “normal” and greats Arthur and Arthur is very happy to see him. But the lady of the lake tells merlin not to let cath get near him. Just as she says this cath opens his mouth (like a monster) and trys to attack Arthur. But Meliodas grabs him and try’s to move him out of the way and they fall to the floor. Merlin is worried about Arthur and Elizabeth is worried about Meliodas. Meliodas asks Arthur if he is okay arthur looks like he’s about to say he’s okay but then he looks at his right arm he realizes it’s gone (CATH ATE IT OH MY FUCKING GOD) he starts to scream in pain (Meliodas is unharmed but he was too slow when he grabbed Arthur) eveyone is very confused and hawk asks what the hell is doing (same hawk like the fuck cath I thought you loved Arthur) Meliodas tells eveyone to grab cath and the lady of the lake also tells them to destroy cath. The reason why she says this is because when cath ate it he will gain a share of chaos and they don’t want that. And he starts turning into a monster with feet like the sinner.

Now time for my thoughts.... WHAT THE FUCK NAKABA WHY MUST YOU MAKE EVERYONE BETRAY EACH OTHER THIS IS WHY I HAVE TRUST ISSUES!!!! So yeah cath basically was only friends with Arthur because he wanted to gain the power of chaos (for some reason). So not only were the sins betrayed by merlin but cath betrayed Arthur. Both of them did this just to gain the power/resurrect chaos. And they don’t care who they had to hurt, use or kill just to get. And that’s both sad and scary...

#nnt manga #nnt spoilers #nnt chapter 338 #betrayal #cath #arthur #merlin #meliodas and elizabeth #king #hawk mama #hawk #diane #gowther #ban #lady of the lake #chaos #WHAT THE FUCK #just my thoughts

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astraphobe · 5 years ago

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[ LAWRENCE “LARS” MALKIN. 40. CISMALE. HE/HIM ] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ 20 YEARS ] and are originally from [ OREGON ]. They are a [ MECHANIC ] and in their downtime love [ PLAYING HIS ELECTRIC GUITAR ] and [ WRITING MUSIC ]. They look a lot like [ CHRIS PRATT ] and live [ IN OASIS APTS ]. (ooc: otto, 19, he/him, cst)

hello !! i’m otto and this is my first muse here. he’s garbage but, like, good garbage ?? compost ?? idk. anyway. i hope you guys like your man-children middle aged and with two kids because if you expected anything else you’re gonna be dissapointed.

BASICS.

Name: Lawrence Malkin. Nickname: Everyone calls him Lars, but his mom and dad used to call him Larry. He hated it. Gender: Cis-male. Sexuality: Gay (homosexual, homoromantic). Race: Caucasian. Age: 40 ( 01/10/1980 ). Zodiac: Capricorn. Hometown: Grants Pass, Oregon. Current residence: Oasis Apartments. Career: Mechanic.

Astra inclinant, sed non obligant !

this is the background bit. i didn’t want it to be long but it ended up being long, so if you don’t wanna read it you don’t have to. i did spend a lot of time on it, though. hopefully it isn’t shit. enjoy ( but only if you want ) !

world, meet lars. lars, meet world. he’s ... going through it right now. not a lot of things have gone right for him.

he’s the youngest of five in a strictly evangelical household. everything was about rules and if he didn’t abide by them, he’d be punished. he remembers getting hit with switches and belts and wires. he’d be locked in prayer closets and forced to confess his sinful thoughts. he recited every word of scripture, was slain in the spirit, proselytized to all of his friends, and he got nothing but fear and anger out of it --- it was all very ... carrie, but without the promises of superpowers.

when he started going to a secular public high school his entire viewpoint shifted. he made friends who snuck him into rated r movies to watch him squirm at things he’d never heard of before. he started smoking cigarettes, smoking grass, failing classes, and playing sinner’s music on his guitar. strict parents make sneaky kids, he used to be able to all of this in his church clothes.

after high school lars stopped talking to the rest of his family. he rented an apartment with his friends for a two year stint at community college ( he was an automotive specialist major ) and started a band with them in silver lake once he graduated. he never really wanted to talk about girls or stare at nudie magazines like the rest of them, no. he just wanted to make music. until he met margo and his life fell apart.

he only started to date her because it felt right and she promised to take care of him. no one else has ever made the effort to take care of him --- he’d been locked in closets and hit with willow tree branches for the duration of his adolescence. he just wanted comfort.

after he met her, she was the only thing on his mind outside of his band. it wasn’t love, though, even if that was what he thought it was. everything seemed perfect. it all seemed like a normal he could get used to. until she got pregnant and they weren’t ready. she was 24, he was 25, they were both fucked. this was the beginning of the end of them.

click ... click ... click ... boom ! shotgun wedding. as soon as he signed that paper he felt that straight man ball and chain around his ankle. he felt regret, he felt guilty, and, at first, an eighteen year weight stacked atop his shoulders. what more could he do other than ... grin and bear it.

he stopped talking to his friends, who were all busy having fun and playing music and doing everything he wanted to do and more. separating himself from the men he loved most, even if he didn’t want to say it, made him bitter. he stopped doing gigs to make more mechanic money. after the birth of his first daughter, yael, his life was boring and monotonous. five years down the line, margo threw out her birth control pills without letting him know. this was how his second kid, ruth, was brought into the world. it was also the straw that broke the camel's back.

the divorce was long and messy --- he’s glad his kids don’t really remember it too much. margo and lars ended up splitting custody with yael but because of the bullshit that came with ruth, she’s all his. he started meeting up with his friends for gigs again, rediscovering his passion for music. and also drugs. he’s reclaiming the youth he lost when he started dating margo, even though it’s a little weird. he’s happy but he’s not fulfilled, and his kids could see that, too.

the process ruined him financially, enough for the bank to foreclose his home only a few months after the split. he filed for bankruptcy, destroyed his credit score, and moved into a seedy two bedroom apartment ( which isn’t cheap in the city of angels ) that managed to be just a few blocks down from where one of his old friend lived. he came out while lars was married and he didn’t know until he saw the flag hanging in the window. he was curious about it, but we all know what that did to the cat.

lars doesn’t want to be gay, but everything he does makes him feel like he is. the way he talks, the way he sits, the way he cries while watching the notebook --- he knows these are all stereotypes now, but what would his younger self think ?? two kids, no money, AND he’s queer ?? he wants to push this all down, and he does, but he knows that it won’t do him any good either. he knows that everything will all implode, but that day isn’t today, and with any luck, it won’t be tomorrow. he’ll sit in his idea of normalcy until he can’t anymore.

Per angusta ad augusta !

bulletpoints and headcanons, baby !

lars loves his kids. like, a lot. when he was with margo he regretted them entirely but he doesn’t feel that way anymore. he wants what’s best for him, and he wants to give them everything his parents couldn’t give him. namely: love. he doesn’t want more kids, though. he’s saving up for a vasectomy.

he’s not a perfect parent, though. i wouldn’t even call him a great one because of how often he has to be away from them and how much he drinks his feelings. at least once a year he’ll go on a bender and he’ll have to pay a babysitter more than he can afford because of how long he’d be out for. now that his kids are old enough to pick up on these things, they’re becoming more and more concerned with his behavior. he can tell, it’s just another thing he’s trying to avoid bringing up. it’s just another thing that pushes him back to drink.

speaking of his kids. i love them. i love them just as much as i love lars. yael is fifteen and she’s a mini version of her father. when lars has the time, he teaches her to play the guitar on his old acoustic. she manages to make a’s and b’s and he could never be prouder, especially because he barely graduated high school himself. ruth, on the other hand, is an enigma and he doesn’t really understand her but he tries her best. she says a lot of things that ten year olds probably shouldn’t say, but he lets it slide because it’s funny. he’s had to raise her mostly by himself which has been a gigantic struggle for him, but it’s proving to be successful thus far. she really wants to be a teenager and she emulates teenagers to the best of her ability, but it’s what a ten year old thinks a teenager should act like, so it’s far from accurate. loves cleaning her room, though. it’s the most pristine part of their house and he has no clue why.

margo was jewish, so both of his kids are being raised jewish. he doesn’t really believe any of it himself, but his kids seem pretty happy. yael had a bat mitzvah and ruth is coming up on hers, but he has no idea how that’s going to work out because margo did 99% of the planning for yael and he doesn’t know how any of that shit works. ruth also decided that she wants to eat kosher now. she’s been like this for, like, a year and lars thought it would be a phase but at this point she’s in it for the long haul and there’s a pretty good chance she’s not going back on it.

when it comes to his sexuality ,,,, he has a lot of feelings. he acknowledges that being gay is a possibility but he’s definitely never thought enough about it to make a decision. at the same time, he’s hyper aware of anything that might make him seem gay so he dresses like a slightly grunge dad redneck and makes sure to never cross his legs when he sits down. despite all of this. he has had sex with men before. especially after margo. he fucked his gay friend, too. he doesn’t think they count because he was desperate. they count. don’t tell him.

he has five different guitars. the bulk of them sit in his closet, but he has names for all of them. they were his babies before his real babies. his first two were dr. jekyll and mr. hyde, an acoustic and an electric that took about six paychecks for him to finally buy. yael plays on dr. jekyll and he’s spent a lot of time thinking about how he wants to make it a family heirloom if she doesn’t smash it first. he got a white strat in college that he named angel because of how gorgeous she sounds. i'm gonna stop here because this bullet would be so fuckin long if i didn’t. i like guitars. he likes guitars. maybe i’m projecting. who knows ! not me.

it’s easy to assume that his band never really went anywhere. cause it didn’t. they play heavy, heavy, heavy rock and that’s incredibly out of the mainstream right now. their band, shit and sugar, did get a little bit of recognition in the local underground scene during the early 2000s. now they’re just older dudes that play in diy venues and bars sometimes. lars is pretty sure he’s been called a geezer a few times by teens yael’s age.

despite never really getting off of the ground in the music industry, he’s very good at what he does. there’s not a lot left for him to learn in terms of technique and his style of playing is very uniquely his. big inspirations for him include the likes of rivers cuomo, jimi hendrix, kirk hammett, and dimebag darrell.

all in all, he’s an extroverted ball of energy most of the time. he’s got a lot of ideas and he’s very goal oriented, even if he doesn’t end up achieving them. not the smartest tool in the shed, either. he’s childlike and playful in the best way possible. again, most of the time. this ends up biting him in the ass a lot. especially because of how impulsive he is.

Ars longa, vita brevis !

wanted connections ! i’m definitely going to put one or two up on the main but here are a few that i think would work nicely.

people he met through music ---- even though people don’t know about shit and sugar you’d definitely recognize him if your character frequents local bars and DIY venues in sketchy basements. from friends to enemies, i think this one has a lot of breathing room for ~ creativity ~ and all that.

neighbors ---- he’s a guitarist. it’s a loud hobby. he’s nice to everyone in the complex, but god, that’s gotta get annoying.

men he fucked that “don’t count” ---- some of these could’ve ended seamlessly. maybe they get beers now. maybe your character hates him. maybe your character pities him for being in so much denial about his own sexuality. maybe your character is trying to help him. this connection has, like, no limit and all of the plots can be different and unique i’m so excited for it. he’s a bottom, if anyone was curious.

unlikely pals ---- this character is probably the exact opposite of a fuckup. god knows why they even associate with lars. but they do, and they want the best for him. hey !! maybe lars can break them out of their shell a bit.

potential romance ??? owo ??? ---- i really want this to happen because i want lars to eventually come to terms with his sexuality. all he wants is mutual love and good sex. safety, stability, all that good stuff. shouldn’t come without hardship, though. if you have a good idea make sure to make it angsty because i live off of that shit.

someone he doesn’t like ---- i thought of this one because it’s incredibly hard for lars to not like someone. he finds amazing qualities in most people, but he’s prone to holding grudges. i want a character who he just can’t see any good in filling this connection. how fun would that be, right ??

a jewish friend that helps him out with his jewish kids ---- i’m the knowledgeable jewish friend in 99.9% of my friend groups. most people don’t have a knowledgeable jewish friend out of necessity, but he definitely needs one because he doesn’t know shit about some of the things his kids talk about. i swear, ruth mentioned how eggs are pareve and he short circuited please help this poor dude out.

ok that’s. that’s it. i’m done running my mouth on main, but if you wanna plot or just hear me run my mouth about dumb and unimportant shit hit me up here or on discord ( deus ex machina #2294 ) !!! i’m more active on discord because i don’t have this acc always up on my phone. i’m so excited to write with you all !!!!

#slintro #‛ ———— 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍 ／ ABOUT．#oh this is. so long #i am so sorry #abuse tw

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kathyprior4200 · 5 years ago

Text

HAZBINUVA BOSS

A meeting was in progress at the Hazbin Hotel. Five demons were seated around a large wooden rectangular table near where the bar was. The window and door that Sir Pentious’ machine had blown up were now repaired thanks to Alastor. (The door now had an elaborate skull with antlers hanging above the door frame.) The group sat in high-backed leather chairs with spikes on the rims. A pentagram was in the center of the table, drawn in white. Charlie, the blonde haired princess was standing up and writing words down on a whiteboard. Vaggie sat in a chair close by, glaring at everyone else with her gray hands clasped together on the table. Angel had his long legs propped up on the table off to the right. Alastor sat in-between Husk and Niffty. Husk moved further away from them and then stopped when Angel inched closer with his chair. In front of everyone were bowls of fresh Jambalaya, almost finished.

“Thank you so much for making your meal for us,” Charlie said with a smile, turning from the board.

“Anytime, dear!” Alastor replied. “I had used up a lot of my magic and I figured all of us would be hungry. Figured it’d be a great way to celebrate the start of your Haz…Happy Hotel!”

“Wow Al!” Angel exclaimed. “That was some delicious grub!”

Everyone nodded and hummed in agreement. Even Vaggie had to admit it was delicious.

“Thank you,” Alastor said with a smile. “It’s my mother’s special recipe…I even put in gunpowder for an explosive effect!” He laughed. “That was what almost killed her. She had too much Southern Comfort and decided to pour gunpowder while the jambalaya was in the pan…it blew up in her face! I tried it and the kick was straight outta Hell!”

“Oh my,” Niffty said with a brief gasp. “You really should be more careful next time. It could leave a big mess.”

“I try my hardest, dear,” he said to Niffty, which caused the small cyclops demon to blush.

Alastor continued. “Did you know that hunters in Louisiana would often add game meat to their dishes? Deer, duck, and other animals they hunted. I did it all the time. Venison was my favorite…but human flesh gave it that extra flavor that was simply divine!”

Vaggie, Angel, and Charlie made disgusted faces. “Can we please not bring that up?” Charlie asked, coming to sit down.

“But I just did,” he replied nonchalantly.

Vaggie stared hard at her bowl, eye twitching, fearful of finding any part that may have looked vaguely human. Niffty had licked her bowl clean…literally. Husk was busy drinking another bottle of booze.

“What the flying, fuck, Alastor?!” Angel stated. “I love your looks and all, but try and tone down on the cannibalism.”

Alastor leaned in slightly closer to Angel. “I read somewhere that some people on Earth consume insects in their diet. Including spiders.”

Angel’s eyes widened in fear, but soon, his pink pupils dilated. “You would…try and eat me?” he asked with a grin, pink gloved hand moving just a hair toward his dick.

Alastor deciphered what he was implying and replied with a haughty “No. Not in that way.”

“Your loss,” Angel called as the Radio Demon moved away from the white feminine dressed spider.

Vaggie narrowed her eyes a Husk. “Can we at least not drink during a meeting?”

“Hasn’t started yet,” Husk replied, not even looking at her.

Vaggie mentioned to the bar with her spear. “That bar shouldn’t even be here!”

“I think it’s a necessary thing to have,” Angel replied. “Gotta have some liquor to enjoy between the pole dancing performances and stripping and…”

“The hotel is not a strip club, Angel!” Vaggie pressed on.

Alastor conjured a glass of Cornac in his hand with dark red magic and began to drink.

Angel grinned widely, one of his top sharp teeth golden. “See? The strawberry pimp agrees, too!”

A growl rumbled in Alastor’s throat as he glanced in Angel’s direction.

“What the…” Husk gasped. “No fair!” He clenched his claws. “I’ve had it with your fucking games and showing off.” He looked like a cat ready to pounce.

“What’d you plan to do, Husker? Fight me and lose your job?”

The Radio Demon’s tone was laced with warning. A grumbling Husk got the message and sank back in his chair.

“That’s what I thought.”

Charlie banged her fist on the table, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright then! If you all are done with your meals…”

Alastor snapped his fingers and the bowls vanished. Husk glanced at where his bowl was before. “I wasn’t done yet!”

“…let’s get down to business with our first group meeting.”

Charlie in her white tuxedo with a black bow tie, stood up and walked over to the white board. She held a wooden pointer in her hands.

On the board, the words “Happy Hotel” were written in rainbow letters. Random drawings of unicorns, puppies, flowers, and smiling stick figures of demons decorated the board off to the side.

“First and foremost, welcome to the Happy Hotel! I’m Charlie and I’m the founder of this place. How about we introduce ourselves?”

“Babe, we ain’t kids ya know,” Angel remarked. “Besides, I already know the names of you guys.”

“And frankly, I could care less,” Husk added.

“I am Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet all of you!”

“That radio voice of yours is getting on my nerves,” Vaggie muttered under her breath. “That wasn’t even necessary.”

“What was that?” Alastor asked with a tilt of his head. “Speak up. Say it a bit louder for the people in the back.”

Charlie looked at Vaggie who pointed to something on the board. The look in her eyes was telling Charlie to move on.

“O-okay then,” Charlie said. “With the introductions over…ground rules!”

Vaggie nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

“Rule number one: Treat each other the way you want to be treated. Be kind to each other or at least tolerant.”

Angel smirked. “Easier said than done.”

Alastor rolled his eyes and laughed.

Charlie put her hands on her hips. “You guys think this is all a joke, but I don’t. If you want to stay here, then you have to put in some effort. Even if it’s little steps every day.”

“Like I said before, you can’t baby us into good behavior,” Angel said. “Are we like your students or something?”

“Clients, yes,” she replied.

“You’re just a teen, darling,” Alastor added. “You don’t have any experience with being formerly human or know about how Hell really works. I’m surprised you made it this far after your entertaining fiasco on the picture show.”

That hit her hard. Alastor grinned in amusement at the stunned look on her face. His laugher rang in her ears (if she even had any).

Charlie had dealt with snide comments like that for many years. Helsa and Katie Killjoy were the worst, never hesitating to bring her down with comments on her clothing, her silly ideas, or her clown-like appearance.

“She’s a living joke!” Helsa would say, earning a snicker from her brother Seviathan. “Look at her blushing cheeks and tuxedo. Hey, you gonna juggle demon heads for us, princess?”

A younger Helsa was standing with a bunch of mean girls by a row of lockers (resembling Zootopia school girls with animal-like features.)

“Hey, look! It’s the gay princess of rainbows!” Helsa called. “I wanna see you smooch those loser girls over there. A love fest for freaks!”

A girl with a white ponytail and glasses whispered to another girl who stretched out her leg and made Charlie trip…papers flying everywhere as their laughter screeched around her.

“Well, looks like your project is dead on arrival,” Katie Killjoy had said, getting into her face. “How does it feel to be such a failure?”

“Listen well, Charlotte, because I won’t say this again,” Lucifer had warned her back at home. “If you know what’s good for you, you will give up on your foolish idea and start behaving like an adult.”

“But I am an adult!” Charlie protested, no longer struggling. “And I’ve decided as princess to continue on with opening the hotel. It will be what’s best for us.”

Flames sparked in Lucifer’s eyes. “If you think causing a war is what’s best for us, then you are gravely mistaken. I had high hopes for you all these years. But now…you’re nothing but a failure.”

“Charlie?”

A familiar voice cut in. Charlie looked to see concern in Vaggie’s yellow eye.

Vaggie enveloped her gray hand into Charlie’s pale one and gave it a comforting squeeze. The feeling seemed to bring her back from her plaguing thoughts.

She took a breath.

“Well, that may be true,” she began, regaining her composure, “But my parents taught me a lot about Hell as well as their histories. I know I’m new at this project and I’ve never interacted much with a lot of people. But I’m learning new things every day from sinners like you all. I do my best every day because I know that there is good in every one of you. And I’m not going to give up on my goal. I’m offering you all a second chance; you could start doing the same for me.”

Alastor was a bit taken aback, if not impressed with how well she recovered.

“Inside of every demon is a failure,” Alastor sang softly.

“You don’t know the song, do you?” Charlie spoke up, briefly startling him. She smirked. “And besides, I’m older than all of you. I’m over 150 years old.”

Everyone stared in stunned silence. Angel’s mouth was open and he breathed “say what?” Booze sputtered from Husk’s mouth and the winged cat demon coughed. Niffty scurried over and wiped up the spilled drops off the table. Alastor’s mouth was almost hitting the floor. But shortly after that, he cleared his throat and added, “You’re beautiful all the same.”

He winked and Charlie let out a giggle. Vaggie gave a deadpan stare at Alastor, gripping her harpoon tighter in her hands.

“Rules!” Charlie proclaimed, getting back to the topic. “First rule is the Golden Rule. Be kind and respectful to everyone.”

Rule number two: No drinking during the day or past curfew. Angel. Husk.”

She stared at them. “You better be listening.”

“I’m listening,” Husk said. “I just don’t care.”

“I can take that booze away from you,” Vaggie said.

“Try it bitch.”

“Enough, enough! Rule number three: no drugs of any kind. Angel.”

“Rule number four; no distributing porn. Again, Angel, take note of this.”

“For fuck’s sake, sugar!” Angel replied. “You trying to make my life miserable here?”

“Do you want to stay rent free or not, bastard?” Vaggie added.

“Touché,” Angel said, calming down.

“Rule number five: No murdering or harming any guests or staff members. Applies to everyone. Especially Alastor.”

“What?” he said with a chuckle. “If I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

“You would’ve done so already. We get it,” Vaggie yelled, walking over to him, spear at the ready. “Bullshit. If you won’t take that rule seriously…I can make sure that you do.”

“Rule number six, no swearing.”

Husk let out a series of cuss words in response.

“Vaggie, Husk, and Angel Dust, this rule is for you.”

None of them looked happy about it.

Alastor looked smug in his seat. “That’s one rule I don’t have to worry about.”

He appeared next to Charlie after materializing from shadow. He placed her hand son her shoulders. “But what’s say you? You’ve let out some swear words as well. I heard you on the picture show.”

Charlie looked flustered. “Y-yes, I know. I’m working on that too.”

Alastor cupped her cheeks and tilted the corners of her mouth upwards. “No frowns allowed, dear. That’s another rule.”

“Get away from her, you psycho!” Vaggie called, holding her spear and walking beside Charlie.

“It’s okay Vaggie,” Charlie assured.

Alastor poked the girls’ noses and materialized back in his seat.

“Rule number seven: respect personal space at all times. Applies to everyone. Especially now that there’s a pandemic going around.”

Alastor nodded. “A very important rule to have. The six foot rule! Angel Dust over there will have to follow it if he wants his fingers to stay intact.”

Angel backed up in his seat.

“But you will too, Al,” Charlie mentioned. “Just because you don’t like to be touched, doesn’t mean you can just touch others whenever you want.”

Charlie felt cold hands wrap around her waist. She glanced down and they were long and black. The air behind her felt cold and hummed with dark power. She looked back and stared into a shadowy face with blank teal eyes and a creepy teal grin.

“Argh!” Charlie jumped back in fright. Alastor’s shadow vanished.

“Don’t do that, Alastor!”

Alastor chuckled. “I didn’t touch you or anything. Surely, the no touching rule doesn’t apply all the time. How else would we dance and have fun?”

Charlie sighed, “Good point there.”

“Splendid!”

“Alright, now onto a list of possible solutions and goals to work toward. Vaggie helped me with this list.”

Charlie walked around the room and passed out identification papers unique to each individual that listed the subject’s dates of death, their sins and rehabilitation strategies. Extra copies were kept in a folder in Charlie’s desk.

“No sharing any personal info,” said Charlie. “Anyone who wants to talk about personal issues can do so in their own time.”

Everyone looked at her with appreciation in their eyes.

“To briefly list them out with Vaggie’s help:

“Angel Dust: drug therapy and gradual lessening of the cocaine and angel dust. Only drinking in the evenings or every other day. Frequent injections of medicine for sobering effect. Refrain from doing turf wars. No use of guns and weapons permitted in the hotel unless for self-defense. Rewards for cooperation include: staying rent free, making new friends, payment as progress goes on.”

“Alastor: No invading other people’s space. Any murder, harm or demonic possession will result in dismissal and use of harpoon weapon. Use of dark magic on anyone is prohibited. No making deals with anyone. Rewards for cooperation include: jambalaya, jazz dances, singing, and the willingness to hear dad jokes.”

“Husk: No stealing or hoarding liquor or any alcoholic beverages. We know that you do. Try and spend more time for alternative activities such as magic shows and similar gambling games that involve either less money or fake money. Rewards for cooperation include: catnip, weekend booze, money, and extra alone time.”

Charlie had written the next part for Vaggie:

“Vaggie: Take deep breaths and focus on me whenever temper arises. Refrain from swearing and killing if possible. Have faith that this project will work and keep supporting me. It’s much appreciated. Reward: new friends and spending time with me.”

“Niffty: don’t lift others up or cause any chaos. We know you’re capable of murder as well, so same rules: no murder, apply. Stalking men will result in a warning. Keep up the cooking and cleaning but don’t get too carried away. (rumor has it that you and Husk dispose bodies for Alastor, so watch your backs.) Rewards for cooperation include: spare time for reading, writing, and sharing fanfiction.”

Charlie glanced down and saw a section of advice for her written by Vaggie:

“Charlie: Refrain from swearing and getting too involved with the lives of other clients. It will take a while for demons to get redeemed, let alone go to Heaven, so be patient. Don’t be afraid to be stern and strict when necessary. You see the good in everyone, so bring out all their good traits while acknowledging the bad. Never give up on your goal, no matter what others may say. And most importantly:

BE CAUTIOUS OF ALASTOR.”

Charlie smiled at Vaggie who smiled back genuinely. She mouthed “I love you,” and Charlie did the same.

“Well, that pretty much covers it,” she said brightly. “We plan on having weekly meetings whenever we can. If any of you wish to talk about your personal issues, you can speak to me in private for a session.”

Vaggie nodded.

“Now…onto the fun part! The games I planned out!”

She held up drawings.

Vaggie groaned and facepalmed.

“Karaoke nights! Bingo! Strawberry cake desserts and cupcakes to share! Demon Dance Revolutions on stage! Bring your pets to work day! Arts and crafts and meet and greets! Sociological issues in Hell with Vaggie. And every Sunday, tales of Heaven and happiness!”

Now everyone had given up on taking her seriously. Some even began fidgeting or standing up to leave.

“I’ll stick with pole dancing,” said Angel.

“And gambling,” said Husk.

“Don’t forget dad jokes!” Alastor added.

“18+ fanfictions to share,” said Niffty. “My favorite: When Vox, Sir Pentious, and Alastor Cared for Me in Bed!”

Everyone gasped in surprise and disgust. The group parted ways, agreeing to meet back in the lobby.

Alastor briefly walked out of the room and up onto the balcony. His staff lit up.

“Hello there, you fabulous sinful folk! It is I, Alastor the Radio Demon coming to you live from…”

He briefly looked behind him to see that Charlie wasn’t watching,

“…the Hazbin Hotel! What is it, you ask? It is a unique little joint run by Princess Charlotte that aims to rehabilitate sinners. Yes, what a crazy idea indeed, but apparently, she already has a few clients waiting to stay there. It’s been getting boring around here and I think the princess and her friends could use some extra company. If you’re looking for a place to stay, or to hang out, or if you simply want to try and be a better person only to fail miserably at it…come on over! And it’s free as well!”

He laughed and basked in his glory. Keeping his promise to Blitzo, he added,

“…If you ever want demons or even humans to die after doing you wrong, contact the Immediate Murder Professionals. A lovely trio of imps in Imp City, they’ll kill your intended targets anyway you wish, both in Hell and on Earth! Decapitation, disembowelment, suffocation… you name it, they’ll do it. Goodbye humans, hello justice! Bonus: kids die for free!”

He snapped his fingers and a jazzy version of the I.M.P. Jingle played on air.

“I’ll see you around next time, here on 66.6FM. And as always, smile and stay tuned!”

The staff blinked off.

“Alastor?” Charlie called from inside. “What were you doing? I heard some music out from the balcony.”

Alastor turned around. “Hello, my dear! I just came out for some fresh air.”

“Where you just on the radio?” she asked.

“Yes. Nothing much, just advertising your hotel to the public.”

Now it was Charlie’s turn for her jaw to hit the floor. A mixture of elation, surprise, and nervousness spurred through her core.

“Y-You what?”

Alastor laughed. “I did say I wanted to help, didn’t I? So I figured, why not spread the word to a wider audience?”

Charlie smiled but was also shaking. If it was true, then now everyone would know about the hotel. Including Helsa, Katie, her parents…

On the one hand, it was the start of a dream come true. More people would folk to the front doors in the hopes of possibly redeeming themselves in the future.

On the other hand, she’d now be a potential laughing stock for everyone in Hell. Her embarrassment at the news station was awful enough. Now there could be more demons out there who would dismiss her idea just like that.

In the back of her head, she wondered about the other overlords. Would they be willing to come to the hotel as well? Could they track her location and harm her when she was by herself?

And what would her parents think of this? The last thing she wanted was another lecture from her father of how her plan seemed unreasonable, ridiculous and a waste of time.

But then again…she had her friends with her. She had Alastor to protect her. If she wanted to prove herself, she would have to get started somehow.

“Thank you, Al. I don’t know what to say,” she finally said.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. More people means more entertainment, doesn’t it?”

Charlie walked back inside, soon surrounded by the others. She stared into each of their eyes and saw something she’d never thought she’d see: sparks of hope and support. Genuine smiles on their faces, even for Husk. Each individual leading different lives but all connected together in a strange bond. A band of misfits, brought together by herself and fate. The downtrodden brought to a place of comfort, where they could be themselves while working toward getting into paradise.

It was the start of something special. Of potentially making a difference and changing her world.

“Charlie?” Vaggie asked.

“Yes,” she said.

Vaggie mentioned to the door. A series of knockings could be heard. Charlie walked toward the door, hesitantly reaching for the handle before swinging it open.

A pair of three imps and a hellhound stood in the doorway. The one in front had a white and red face with yellow eyes, long curved horns and a black mark on his forehead. The shorter imp to his right had white hair, a red face, yellow eyes and shorter horns. Both of them wore navy blue business suits, their long pointed red tails behind them. The other imp was dressed in a black tank top with torn pants. She had lone eyelashes and eye rows, plus a red face and wild black hair. Finally, the white furry hellhound was dressed in street clothing: torn short pants, a spiked collar around her neck and a tank top held in place with string shaped like a downward pointing pentagram.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Is this the Hazbin Hotel?” asked the imp in front. “The Radio Demon kindly advertised our company and so we decided to see what this Hazbin business is about.”

“No, this is the Happy Hotel,” she said, confusion etched onto her face.

“The sign up there read Hazbin,” said the shorter male imp.

The first imp spoke. “So you’re the princess that the Radio Demon talked about. Redeeming sinners, right?”

Charlie scratched the back of her neck. “Yes.”

Blitzo laughed. “My, that’s a first when it comes to hilarious ideas. And I thought Stolas was crazy in the head.”

Charlie flushed, eyes downward.

“But hey, don’t worry, we’re just here for a visit. At Alastor’s request.”

Those words sent an unforeseen chill down her spine. He wondered what he meant by that.

Making an effort to be polite, she held out her hand. “I’m Charlie.”

“Blitzo!” said the imp in front, shaking her hand. “The o is silent. Head of I.M.P. This is Moxxie, Millie, and my dear Loony. May we come in?”

“Sure.”

Blitzo proudly walked in, followed by a grumpy Moxxie, an excited Millie and an indifferent Loona.

Vaggie gasped in shock as the group came in. Angel, Husk and Niffty soon took notice.

“Hello there good friends!” Alastor greeted. He had clearly been expecting them. He turned to Niffty. “Niffty, it’s your turn to make some jambalaya for our new guests!”

“I’m on it!” she beamed before dashing of toward the kitchen.

“Jamba-what now?” Moxxie asked.

“Jambalaya, a Creole specialty dish from New Orleans. Rice, shrimp, vegetable, meat, and fresh flesh mixed in if you prefer.”

“Sounds ravishing to me!” Millie said. She looked around at the hotel. “Wow, this place is quite something! It may not be the fanciest one but it’s better than the slums and halfway houses in Imp City.”

She turned to Blitzo, “Blitzo can we please stay a night or two?”

“No Millie, this is a place for sinners, not for us hellborn. Besides, we’ll have to go back to headquarters once our visit is over.”

Millie pouted a bit.

Moxxie folded his arms. “Getting sent here for a ”meet and greet.” Pathetic. We’re treated like dirt day in and day out by Hell society. Why visit a random hotel down the pit?”

“Because,” Blitzo said, eyes shining. “Alastor promised me a taste of musical theater and entertainment. The two of us on stage!”

“That’s right!” he chimed in. “I heard about I.M.P. on the picture show. It was the least I could do to show my support. And here I am supporting Charlie with her hotel. It does feel good to help out others.”

Charlie cupped her face and beamed in delight. Millie and Niffty stood and giggled as they watched Alastor from a distance. Vaggie and everyone else looked suspicious. Vaggie seriously doubted that Alastor actually meant what he said. He was only concerned about entertaining himself and using others for his benefit.

Blitzo and Moxxie exchanged worried looks. The hidden mark of Kalfu and Alastor hummed inside their heads. The three imps were, in fact, summoned to the hotel just after Alastor’s announcement. Loona quickly tracked them down, almost pulled in after then as well. She, too, felt a pinch of dark energy inside her.

Moxxie opened his mouth speak, but no sound came out. He tried to use his hands for sign language, but a dark shadow seemed to hold his fingers in place. A look of fear was etched onto his face. He stared at Charlie, desperate to tell her, but he could only blink and move his eyes. Charlie was oblivious, of course. Vaggie and Angel were merely concerned. Niffty and Husk felt the same energy pulsing from inside their heads like a dark heartbeat. They knew that just like the newcomers, they couldn’t do anything but wait and watch. By the time the others figured out they had made deals with Alastor, he’d probably brush them aside, having no use for them. There was no way to tell, so they stopped thinking about it.

“Is something the matter, good sir?” Alastor asked, grin stretching slightly.

A flash of a recent memory at headquarters…

A very slow “Shave and a Haircut” knock filled up the silence. It came from behind the door that led to the hallway.

Loona and Husk froze, maws open in mid-brawl. Moxxie raised his eyebrows and suddenly started to shiver. Millie and Blitzo suddenly felt an oncoming sense of dread. Husk crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Niffty, however, clapped her hands in excitement. She took some steps forward, but froze at Moxxie’s glare.

“Do not answer the door,” Moxxie whispered in a harsh tone.

Niffty stared in confusion. “Why not? He’s my friend.”

Moxxie narrowed his eyes.

“From the other side!” Niffty emphasized.

“Just don’t go any further.”

Niffty grinned and tiptoed closer to the door.

“No, no, no,” Moxxie breathed, moving his hands across in a signal. “Stop right there.”

Niffty stopped and slowly reached her thin black hand toward the round handle.

“Oh for Lucifer’s sake!” Blitzo announced, walking toward the door. “It’s Niffty’s coworker. How bad can he be?”

He opened the door and grinned. “Hi I’m Blitz…”

His eyes widened and his face fell.

“…o.”

Blitzo stared at a towering tall demon wearing a tattered red dress coat with vertical thin stripes. Burgundy colored pants covered his legs and ended in red patches along the ends. He wore black dress shoes with red deer print marks on the soles. His undershirt was red and had an upside down black cross as part of the design. A black bow tie was displayed below his slender neck. One of his four clawed hands held a red vintage microphone staff.

Blitzo stuttered, at a loss for words. Fear was constricting his throat. He stuttered as he looked up at the man’s face, “Welcome…”

Blitzo stared at the man’s red and black hair, with large deer ears and antlers. His large red eyes blinked to life from a pale face. A monocle gleamed under his right eye.

“…to…”

The man displayed a grin of sharp yellow teeth, his smile too wide to be considered natural.

“…I.M.P…”

The demon opened his mouth, “Hell…”

Blitzo slammed the door, catching his breath. He opened it a crack…

“…o!”

Closed it again. “Guys…” he began.

“What?” Moxxie asked in frustration.

“I think we need to move away. Niffty, could you please send your friend away? He’s giving me the creeps.”

Niffty shook her head.

“Don’t let him in, sir!” Moxxie said. Husk nodded in agreement.

Millie gasped, “That’s a rude way to treat a guest!”

“Okay then, do you want to open the door?”

Millie gulped.

Blitzo sighed and opened it again.

“May I speak now?” the man asked.

“Sure, whatever,” Blitzo muttered.

The overlord swooped into the room. “Greetings fellow sinners! I’m Alastor but people call me the Radio Demon. I heard from my little darling Niffty that you imps are part of an assassination organization, yes?”

Blitzo took a deep breath and cleared his throat. A smile appeared on his face, now that he was feeling confident. “That’s correct, good sir! I’m Blitzo and I’m the founder of the Immediate Murder Professionals, I.M.P. for short.”

Alastor laughed. “What a clever name! I.M.P. run by imps! And who are your associates?”

Blitzo mentioned to the other imps, “This is Moxxie and Millie.” Millie waved and blushed while Moxxie glowered.

Loona looked up from her phone.

“…and this is my sweet daughter, Loona,” Blitzo finished.

Loona growled and snapped her teeth at Alastor, causing him to take a step back. Retaining his composure, he continued. “That little maid is Niffty, and that cat over there is Husk. I saw your commercial on the picture show and was intrigued. Murdering people in gruesome ways…a classic form of entertainment! It even makes my methods look standard. All thanks to Niffty for finding your location.”

Niffty smiled and waved.

“Next time, don’t mention Imp City in the ad,” Moxxie spat at Blitzo in a low voice.

Alastor walked slightly closer to Blitzo, leaning in. “Is it true that you have access to the living world?”

“Uh…yes?” Blitzo answered. He felt Alastor’s fingers make their way along his curved horns. Despite himself denying it, Blitzo felt his cheeks go pink.

“And you can create portals? Splendid, indeed. There’s no other being in Hell who can do that.”

“Smooth liar,” Husk muttered from a distance.

“That’s right!” Blitzo replied. “Our company has special access to the living world due to our abilities. I may have also stolen a Satanic ritual book from a bird dick overlord several days ago. Top secret.”

Moxxie’s face turned purple, he made the hand signal for “zip it!” to Blitzo, but of course, he wasn’t paying attention.

Alastor smiled and put a finger to his lips. “Rest assured, whatever happens here, stays here.”

He waved his hand and two bottles of booze appeared in front of Husk.

“You might think you can keep getting away with bribing me like that…” Husk said, narrowing his eyes, “…but we both know you can!” He picked up a bottle and started drinking. Loona snatched the other one.

“What exactly are you doing here, anyway?” Moxxie demanded to Alastor.

“Why I’m here to help out your company, of course! I’m already involved in helping Charlie with her hotel, so I figured I could expand my horizons.”

The Radio Demon walked over to Millie. “Hello, dear, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He gently kissed her red hand, making her giggle.

Moxxie slapped his hand away. “No one touches my wife, you got that?”

Alastor just shrugged and walked toward the table.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Mister!” Mooxie stood from his chair and walked over to him. He pointed at his chest, making the demon’s smile more strained. “You look like a shady showman to me, so listen here. You have no business whatsoever in interfering with our company. Or messing around with my coworkers and my boss. So, don’t go around harming anyone here, or we’ll kick you out of our office…or just slice you to bits, Dapper Deer!”

Alastor just laughed softly. Millie and Blitzo walked over to calm Moxxie down.

“If I wanted to hurt anyone here…” Alastor said…

He then spoke in a creepy tone: “I would’ve done so already.”

His eyes turned into red moving radio dials and the air filled with radio static and floating red voodoo symbols.

He shook his head and the sensations ceased. His eyes returned to normal. “So, now let’s talk about how I can help you out.”

“What?” Millie asked.

“How can I be of assistance? You want donations? Promotion? An upgraded outfit?”

Blitzo scoffed, “My outfit is great enough as it is. But… you said something about promotions?”

Alastor nodded. “You ever feel like your work goes unrecognized?”

“Yeah,” Blitzo replied. “People do come to us a lot to murder people, but…”

Alastor tilted his head…

Blitzo continued, “…but the imps and residents here look down on us. Not to mention even the sinners brush us aside like we’re trash. That’s why we’ve kept to ourselves a lot. We imps have to stick together…and hellhounds, too.”

Loona rolled her eyes.

“But your company is so unique, and with such special access, I don’t know why others would look down on you,” Alastor mentioned. “Whoever those horrible people are…who are they?”

“My asshole father,” Blitzo said. “He’s kept me from achieving my musical theater dreams.”

Alastor placed a hand on Blitzo’s shoulder. He spoke in his sympathetic tone, reserved for making others feel at ease.

“Oh, believe me, I’ve been there. I’ve loved singing and music ever since I can remember. And my dad…well it’s a long story, too tragic to go into. Have you ever thought of…killing the person in your way? It’s surprisingly simple, and you of all people should know.”

“I…um…”

Moxxie nodded. “I had a dream that my parents were being murdered, and I wanted to get back to that.”

“What if I told you…there was a way for your dreams to come true?”

“That’s impossible,” Moxxie scoffed.

Alastor appeared behind him, from his shadow form, making him jump. “I don’t think so! I can do so many things for your cause.” He stood in front of the three imps. A flaming bag of money appeared in Alastor’s outstretched hand, in front of Blitzo’s eyes. It changed to fiery silhouettes of Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie dancing to the clapping of a crowd coming through his microphone. “This may seem like a bit much, but so far, you’re a well-established company.” The I.M.P. logo appeared in his hand before he closed it. “I could improve you ads, extend your business to Pentagram City, all under my protection. Imps won’t have to be the lowest of the low ever again.”

Blitzo and his associates looked at each other, lost in thought. Alastor’s grin grew wider.

“Do you really want to give up this golden opportunity?”

Moxxie paused. Blitzo found himself shaking his head. Millie smiled at Niffty and Husk nearby.

Alastor turned to leave. “Well, it was worth a try. I could give you some time to think about it…it was only a suggestion.”

He slowly walked toward the door. “3…2…1…”

Blitzo’s eyes went wide. “No, no, wait! Don’t leave.”

Alastor turned his head, smile wide. He turned back to them and held out his right hand. “So, do we have a deal?”

“No deals!” Moxxie yelled, pulling Blitzo away. “There’s something shifty about this guy. The stuff he says is too good to be true.”

“You sure about that?” he asked. “Perhaps I need to persuade you a little more…”

He snapped his fingers and the table and pictures vanished. The room turned a dark purple and the floor became wooden like dance floor. Deer antlers and voodoo symbols lined the walls in neon colors. The posters now showed deer with black bloody circles in place of eyes. Alastor’s outfit changed into a red suit, with a red top hat with pins sticking out. Soon, everyone was wearing attire from the early 1900s: dapper dresses and round hats of purple, green and yellow for Millie, Niffty, and Loona, and suits of light blue, white and black for Blitzo, Husk and Moxxie.

“Take it boys!” Alastor called, snapping his fingers. Shadow spirits emerged from a newly created portal in the ground. One played a saxophone, one a trumpet, and the other played the drums.

A jazzy remix of the I.M.P. jingle played. Moxxie and Millie danced and spun around in the spotlight as the music played. Husk and Moxxie glared at each other in a corner. Niffty smiled and danced along, while Loona stared at her phone again.

Alastor mentioned for Blitzo to come on stage and sing with him. Blitzo blushed and slowly made his way next to him.

Alastor sang through his vintage microphone, which lit up.

“When you want somebody dead,

And you wanna poke fun at their head

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals

Whether homicide or genocide

We’ll make it look like suicide

Immediate Murder Professionals

We do our job so well

‘Cause we come straight up from Hell

We’ll kill your husband or your wife

We’ll even let you keep the knife

The Immediate…Murder…Professionals

The song was followed by an electro swing solo and a repeat of the verses.

Blitzo was lost in a blissful trance as he and Alastor spun around in a dance.

They both stopped to catch their breath as the music slowed to a relaxing jazz melody.

Alastor held out his right hand. “What’d you say? Won’t you shake a poor sinner’s hand?” The area around him glowed an eerie green and a strange wind gusted.

Millie ran over and eagerly shook his hand. “I accept! Thank you for your help!” In the shadows, Moxxie was pulled toward Alastor by black tentacles wrapping around his waist.

Blitzo stared at Alastor’s hand in front of him. Common sense told him to stay far away from this demon.

But Millie had shaken his hand already…and he did offer to help them…

Blitzo’s musical dream was just beginning, and so was his company. Why back out now?

He slowly moved his hand closer, hovering over Alastor’s fingerless glove- covered hand.

Loona’s eyes grew wide. Her fur stuck on end and her instincts kicked in. She could smell deceit and evil coming from the demon. She hadn’t thought it would go this far. For the first time, she placed her phone down on the ground. “Blitz!” she called.

Blitzo briefly looked behind Alastor…and saw his adopted daughter…with fear in her eyes for the first time. He was sure he was dreaming. There was no way magic like this could exist, and surely his daughter wouldn’t show this much concern for him.

But then again…Blitzo could create portals to Earth, so anything was possible.

“Anything is possible,” said Alastor, as if reading his thoughts.

“Don’t do it!” Loona barked. She raced over to Blitzo…only for Husk and Niffty to block her. Husk’s eyes and Niffty’s eye glowed red. “Ahh, the fuck?!” Loona exclaimed, in shock.

Blitzo’s shaking hand inched closer…

Moxxie’s hand was forcibly guided to the demon’s other hand by the tentacles…

Loona growled and swatted Husk and Niffty aside with her paws.

Blitzo’s hand touched Alastor’s at the same time Moxxie’s did.

“Noooo!”

The Radio Demon cackled in triumph as Blitzo and Moxxie shook his hands. All three imps briefly opened their eyes wide, all glowing red. Small streams of evil black energy from their souls traveled from each of their mouths and into Alastor’s staff. Husk and Niffty stood up and stared at each other…for this had happened to them as well. All five of them stood still like soldiers, each with too-wide grins on their faces as static and symbols filled the air.

“No, sir, nothing.” Moxxie replied.

The pulsing stopped and a shadow was lifted.

“Very well then. Off we go to the bar.”

Angel and Blitzo walked side by side, having a heated conversation.

“I’d kill to work for a company like yours, pun not intended,” Angel said. “Being paid to kill people? With all the turf wars I’m in, I’ve killed or hurt dozens of demons. With humans, it’s no problem.”

“What do you do,” Blitzo asked. “I must admit, your dress is rather…strange.”

“It’s a suit, thank you very much.”

“I still like it.”

“Really? Well, I’m not too surprised. I’m Hell’s number one porn star after all.”

“What’s that like?”

“I work for my boss Valentino. He’s the owner of a porn studio not too far from here. I just tell my haters, “It’s my day to be gay.” And to those who wanna fuck with me, they gotta pay me. My services don’t come cheap.”

“Heh,” Blitzo said with curiosity. “You with Valentino?”

“Yeah, he’s rough in the bedroom. Doesn’t really care much about me other than me paying him and keeping myself in line.”

“Sounds similar to Stolas. He sheds his feathers when he’s aroused. We fucked in his palace and I stole a Satanic ritual book to access the living world.”

Angel grinned. “Oooh! Kinky!”

“Then I fell down into chocolate cake and tell his queen, “Sorry I fucked your husband!”

“Damn! And you’re still alive?”

“I was lucky to hightail it outta there before she could peck out my insides.”

“Oh, tell me more.”

Blitzo laughed. “He called me over the phone and told me he wasn’t lonely now that so many people die from the covid 19 virus. Then he was then like, “When I’m lonely, I become hungry, and when I’m hungry… I want to…”

Blitzo continued on with a string of curse words and graphic descriptions.

“...and I’ll leave you screaming….like a fucking baby!”

Angel stared stunned at what he had told him. “Holy shit. And I thought I was into BDSM. This owl guy could probably intimidate Valentino. Heheheheh. I did the same thing to Alastor as a prank call and he just hung up on me.”

“Hahaha! I can see why.”

Charlie and Vaggie walked side by side together, placing their distance from the guys.

“Stolas…” Charlie said to Vaggie after hearing the name. “It sounds familiar. Oh I remember. He’s Melodia’s husband and father of Octavia.”

“Who’s that?”

“Octavia is a princess like me, except she’s a black and white owl. We…we used to be best friends when we were younger. We did typical princess tuff, tea parties, dress up, and the occasional murder. We even went to Hell-World in Gore-rida.”

Vaggie’s eyes brightened. “I remember when we went there together.”

“Yes. We posed together in front of the castle and we rode all the rides, too. Oh and the Disney musicals were the best part!”

The two girls reminisced over the fun times.

Charlie’s face fell. “But then, as time went on, we grew distant. I started to focus on the Happy Hotel and several other projects that could help out sinners. I encouraged Octavia to join me, but she refused. She thought my ideas were stupid and a waste of time. After a few years, she started to believe that I didn’t want to be her friend anymore. I told her that wasn’t true but she didn’t believe me. She said that if I were her friend, I would’ve kept in contact with her, dressed more properly and mostly forget about my rehabilitation goals.”

“That sounds harsh,” Vaggie said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“My dad was hoping that our families could be on good terms through a partnership. Not by marriage but by business and friendship. Now we hardly see each other.”

Everyone made their way into the larger area, where they were free to talk or roam around.

Later on, Alastor and a very happy Blitzo were singing together in the spotlight up on stage. Blitzo now had a fancy dark blue suit with an orange, red tie and two dark top hats over his horns with stitched up smiley faces on it. With a confident grin, Alastor pulled Charlie onto the stage to sing along with them, much to Vaggie’s shock and anger.

Loona and Husk were fighting furiously over a bottle of booze.

“That’s my bottle, you bitch,” Husk hissed. “Go buy your own.”

It’s mine, pussycat.”

“Homeless furry beast. Go back to the fucking slum where you and the hellhounds belong!”

“I’ll chase you and rip you apart, you gambling shittalking clown!”

The two of them bared teeth and claws, swiping at each other and pulling each other’s ears.

Without ceasing his tap dancing nor letting his smile falter, Alastor snapped his fingers. Loona and Husk were sent to opposite corners of the room, each with a bottle of booze next to them. They both looked stunned before gulping down their bottles with deadly glares.

Charlie stepped up to the microphone and began to sing:

“Sing it out

You’ve got to see what tomorrow brings

Sing it out

You’ve got to be what tomorrow needs

For every time that they want to count you out

Use your voice every single time you open up your mouth

Sing it for the beaus

Sing it for the belles

Every time you lose it, sing it for Hell

Sing it from the heart

Sing it till you’re nuts

Sing it out for the ones you hate your guts

Sing it for the winners

Sing it for the sinners

Sing about everyone as you make fresh dinners”

Alastor’s heart fluttered as he immersed himself in the moment. Focusing only on the sound of her angelic enchanting voice.

“Oh Charlie, you’re full of surprises, charming demon belle.”

Meanwhile, Millie and Niffty were sharing stories about guys at their table.

Millie pointed to Moxxie, who was sitting across a table from Vaggie, both of them staring in envy at the trio on stage.

“That’s my husband, Moxxie. He can be a grump sometimes, but he’s very kind once you get to know him. He made me a song called “Oh Millie.” We sang it together one night when we were out shooting demons on the streets nearby.”

Niffty beamed. “How romantic! You two spending some great time together. Disposing bodies and dancing in the bloody rain…it’s worthy for a fairytale.”

“I know!” said Millie. “Blitzo films us outside of work, which drives Mox nuts. Sometimes he can have panic attacks, but I always know how to calm him down. I do love my job at I.M.P. Seems like I’m the only employee who does. Sure, we get into a lot of fights and we live in a crummy area of Hell. But we are a company family, so we stick together no matter what.”

“Well, I’m very happy for you.” She sighed. “It’s so sexy when a man shows his great power. I mean, look at my boss. He’s conquered a dozen areas in Hell and he has supernatural powers. Husk and I were summoned to this place to assist him. Husk is the bartender and I’m the cook and housekeeper. Man it felt good to be free of the burning lake, you know? Plus…I have a side-job too.”

“What is it?” She leaned in.

“Husk and I sometimes dispose of demon bodies after Alastor kills other demons…and we get paid at the end of every week.”

Millie laughed. “I’m all too familiar with that process. Except we dispose of humans. And on Earth…it’s more risky if you get caught. Down here, nobody cares.”

“Oh I just love men, so much! Alastor, Vox, Valentino…Lucifer too. If I had my way…”

Her voice grew lower and harmless fire spread over her body,

“I’d clean this hellhole of all the messy chaotic demons, clean up the organs and bathe in the blood. The skins of demons and women would be sewn together to make fashionable outfits for a grand ball. All the men in hell would devote themselves to me and the rest would die in cleansing flame.”

The flames stopped and Niffty shrunk back to normal size. Millie just stared at her for a while.

“Oh and I also want my new fanfiction to be noticed and published. I just fixed it, too. On Wattpad.”

She held up sheets of paper she summoned from fire: “How Vox, Valentino, Lucifer and Alastor Cared for Me in Bed.”

“I wonder what Blitzo and Moxxie are like…”

Millie glared. “Keep my husband out of this, and I’ll support your work.”

“Really? Thank you so much!”

Niffty jumped for joy and ran off to deliver more bowls of Jambalaya. Millie scanned through the papers with a smile. And then a grimace.

“Piece of shit.”

She casually tossed the papers to Loona, who tore them apart with her mouth and claws.

Moxxie and Vaggie said nothing for a while. They just watched as Charlie took a bow after singing “You’re Never Fully Dressed.”

“I swear, Blitzo, you keep going off the deep end every day. Why do I have to keep putting up with you and the dumb company?”

Vaggie watched as Alastor kissed Charlie’s hand, both of them smiling.

“Charlie, why don’t you stop and listen to me? You’d really risk our friendship…and dare I say it, your life, for an evil dealmaker who shows up at your door?”

As if they were reading each other’s thoughts, Moxxie and Vaggie glanced at each other.

“What a bunch of egocentric idiots,” he muttered.

“No need to remind me,” Vaggie said. “I wish I could slap that stupid smile off that man’s face.”

“Alastor?”

“Yes.”

“You’re stupid if you plan on trying.”

“Imp, I’ll only go that far if he puts my friend in danger.”

“I’m Moxxie, lady. I could care less about who you are.”

“Vaggie,” she growled. She gripped her spear with one hand.

Moxxie scoffed. “You gonna use that harpoon on me? You best use it wisely. After a single strike, I’d fall dead and everyone would want to get their hands on it.”

“And get kicked out of this place. No. How do you so much about my spear?”

Moxxie let out a small grin. “I’m a weapon’s specialist at I.M.P. I’ve been fixing and using guns, rifles, knives, and pretty much anything. I know an angelic weapon when I see it.”

This time, Vaggie got intrigued. “I’ve kept this with me ever since I fell down into Hell. I didn’t merely appear like the other sinners.”

She dug into her pocket and showed him one of her daggers. Moxxie studied it with interest. “Appears to be hand-made. Steel blade, slightly worn. You made this?”

Vaggie nodded. “I also am good at martial arts. Though I haven’t practiced since…well, my previous life ended and I fell from the Heavens. This weapon is my only reminder of that.”

Moxxie handed the dagger back to her. “Are you a … fallen angel?”

“Fallen Exterminator,” she corrected. “I’m stuck here forever just like everyone else. And perhaps I’m destined to die on one of the Exterminations.”

Moxxie shook his head. “With your intellect and courage…and temper, I doubt that.”

Vaggie didn’t know what to say, other than, “I figured as much.”

Moxxie then asked, “Have you ever felt like you’re…somehow second best? Like you’re just the sidekick to your boss or friend, stuck in a big company with no one but annoyances around you?”

Vaggie nodded. “All the time. It always seems to be about Charlie and Alastor. When they’re together, they act like I’m not even there. And don’t get me started on Angel Dust, Husk and Niffty. Angel, fucking son of a bitch drug addict. He jumps into turf wars and made the hotel look bad to the public. He only wants a free place to crash. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about anyone around him, it seems. And Husk, the drinker and gambler…swears as much as me. Called me bitch when I told him to stop hoarding liquor for the umpteenth time. Niffty, that fast little bugger, always hot for men and getting into everyone’s business. And Alastor…urgh! He shoves me aside, slaps my ass, steals my girlfriend away! He’d be dead if he weren’t so powerful. If this goes on too long…”

Vaggie turned away, angrily wiping a stray tear from her eye. “Just…men are untrustworthy. At least to me. They stole my virginity, stole my life, and now my afterlife best friend.”

Moxxie didn’t know what to say, he just seethed softly, debating on whether to talk to her or leave her alone.

“That’s harsh. I’m sorry. I thought I had it hard, with Blitzo stalking me every day, and him using my salary to pay for an advertisement. I live in poverty and listen to musicals…but life’s not bad not that my asshole parents aren’t around.”

Moxxie cleared his throat. “Well, I can say this, having been in Hell for a while. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. Stick with people you trust, and when you can’t trust them…sometimes you have to roll with the punches and get through the day.”

He brandished a small black gun and clicked it for show. “Trust your instincts. And when it’s time to fight, don’t hold back.”

“I won’t, believe me.”

Her demon form emerged, her white hair fanning out, with eyes forming on it like moth wings. Her pink bow turned into pink horns and her pink x glowed. Purple moth wings made of flame sprouted from her back and an extra pair of insect like limbs allowed her to carry more weapons. Small antennae formed from the front part of her head of hair.

“I would give my life to save Charlie.”

“As I would for Millie.”

Vaggie reverted back to her regular form, the wings and features vanishing.

“Thank you, Moxxie, I really needed that.”

“Not a problem.”

They shook hands before parting ways.

Charlie ran over and enveloped Vaggie in a hug. “Oh that was such a great performance. It was so much fun being up there!”

Vaggie had to smile. “You did well up there. Your voice is beautiful.”

“Aww Vaggie,” she laughed. She planted a kiss on her friend’s forehead, a blush coming to her gray cheeks. Charlie sat next to Vaggie as they listened to Alastor’s dad jokes.

“Two radio antennas got married. The wedding was good but the reception was awesome!”

“Boo!” shouted Angel. Everyone else sat in boredom, save for Charlie, Millie, and Niffty who silently giggled. Lonna lifted a middle finger as she stared at her phone.

Alastor cleared his throat.

“Knock knock. Who’s there? Radio. Radio who?”

He then answered his joke in a demonic voice without moving his mouth.

“Radio not here I come! Hahaha!”

“Jeez, even when he’s telling jokes, he gives me the creeps,” Moxxie mentioned to Millie. Millie nodded, half dazed. “Snap out of it,” he shook her as she turned to him.

“Calm down, Mox. Don’t worry so much.”

Niffty had gotten a nosebleed and fainted in delight.

Alastor glanced down. “Somebody please help the little darling?”

Millie raced over and moved Niffty over to a couch.

“Radio not, here I come,” Vaggie scoffed. “That’s not even a dad joke, it was a knock knock joke! So terrible.”

“Like paper is,” Charlie added, with a smile.

Vaggie playfully elbowed Charlie in the ribs. “Blonde dork.”

Soon it was getting late. It was time for I.M.P. to go back to their business.

“Thank you for coming, everyone!” said Alastor. “What a splendid night it was! You’re welcome back here anytime!”

“Good riddance,” Loona called back, taking a breath of a cigarette and holding a stolen bottle of vodka in her hands. Husk flipped the bird at her as she did it back with both hands. Angel Dust had given her a bag of angel dust, which she hid in her shorts. It didn’t go unnoticed by Charlie but she decided to let the matter slide.

Loona was the first one out, followed by Millie, Moxxie, and finally, Blitzo.

“Bye everyone!” Blitzo called out. “Be sure to call us you want somebody gone!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to redeem yourself?” Charlie asked. “You are an incredible performer and it was so much fun to spend time with you.”

“Hmm, let me think…no thank you!” Blitzo laughed. “Business is business!”

Blitzo did one last wave and wink before Charlie shut the door with a sigh.

“Alright, off to your rooms everyone,” Charlie called. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Alastor sent his shadow to guard the perimeter outside, while the group straightened up the lobby before heading upstairs.

She walked toward a certain red clad demon.

“Alastor, you changed the sign of my hotel. Why?”

Alastor looked up from the voodoo doll he was sewing and stood up. “Darling, Happy sounded too immature. It sounds like a name for an overnight rehab center where demon’s reputations are forever tarnished in group meetings and little kid activities. This is a hotel in Hell, for misfits like us. A safe place for them to stay for the night. No other name properly reflects that.”

“That still doesn’t give you the right to change anything!”

Alastor shrugged and spread out his arms. “Hey, no need to get so frazzled. I’m just doing my part to help. Though if you don’t want any more help…I can just find entertainment elsewhere…”

“Nonono! Please…stay,” Charlie begged. “Just…stay out of trouble.”

Alastor pulled her in for a brief side hug, then pat her head. “We’ll do. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He vanished into the shadows without another word.

#hazbinhotel #helluvaboss #crossovers

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