#it would probably have made more sense for val to be the mean boss but i couldnt make myself go there

[hiemaldesirae]

The Hazbin Graduate’s Guide to Homicide (3)

HAZBIN'S MIDSEMESTER STUDENT REPORT Student: Vox Vanhal Supervising Staff: Professor Enoch Leviathan Sponsor: Not Applicable To the Board: Vox Vanhal may be one of the most brilliant students this school has seen in decades. In all my years of teaching at Hazbin, I have never met a student more insanely ready to learn and apply their skills- due in part, of course, to said student's own possible insanity. I mean this in a jovial way, of course, but I will admit that when young Vanhal's true identity was revealed to me that my first thought was along the lines of 'is this student insane?' Whether or not my student's reason should be called into question is something myself and my fellow professor Asmodeus have discussed in length, but there is one thing that we can definitively agree on: If there is any one student in this school who I would choose to place my bets on, it would be Vox Vanhal. There is nothing more to say at this time of report evaluation. Sincerely, Professor Leviathan.

May God's blessings be with you now and at the hour of our deaths, Amen.

[ 1 ] / [ 2 ] (<- read these first for context and more murder academy radiostatic content!)

Though Alastor may have thought that Vox was much more knowledgable in how Hazbin's Institution for Homicide worked, the truth was, Vox was still fully flying on the seat of his own coattails.

He had no damn clue what he was doing still, and although it'd been two weeks since he'd arrived, part of him still felt like how he did when he'd first arrived: hesitant, scared, not knowing where to go or what to do besides the want to make his boss suffer as he killed him.

That level of animosity might sound strange to anyone not a Hazbin student or alumnus, but it was perfectly normal for any student enrolled in the academy to have such feelings. After all, there was quite a rigorous process involved in the application, and for Vox, this application process (and what led to it) was perhaps more intense than most.

There had once been a time where Vox had dreamed of becoming a Hollywood starlet, one who lit up the silver screen and was blessed by hundreds of thousands of cheering, dedicated fans who would fawn over his every move and action. He'd wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, at one point. But after taking on his first roles in Carmine Studios, the glamour of Hollywood had shattered like fine glass.

"Miss Vesper! Would you please look over here for a second?"

"Miss Vesper, when is your next movie coming out?!"

"Miss Vesper, is it true that you and your co-star on Anna Karenina, Valentino Vega had an affair-?"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! That- fucking bastard!" Vox rushed into the privacy of his and Val's shared apartment, slamming the door behind him as he collapsed into the couch, head cradled in his hands. He couldn't even begin to start detailing the number of ways he'd wanted to fucking butcher and rip apart his boss.

Andrealphus Goetia was no stranger to the spotlight, naturally. One of Hollywood's top directors, the man had been an influential cornerstone in the history of movie-making, a real legend to light the days. But behind that picturesque platinum reputation laid a monstrous piece of shit.

It had been a complete accident that Andrealphus had found out about Vox's identity.

Vox himself hadn't even really planned out what to do about himself at that point, only that he'd known that the dresses he wore on screen were far more suited to his best friend than they were for him. Knew that the copious amounts of makeup flattened on him everyday made him feel more like a clown than a princess, that it was the most uncomfortable feeling to have to sit and play the pretty face for the audience's sake.

But he persisted, telling himself, one more year, one more year til my savings account has enough to supply Val and I with a comfortable life and we can leave.

But of course- of course Andrealphus had to ruin it for him.

The man had found out and immediately proceeded to blackmailing Vox with the information, holding things such as promotions, media gossip and rumors over his head. And now... now... Vox stared down at the script he held clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he grasped it with an iron grip.

"Dieser verdammte bastard," Vox muttered under his breath.

Though he'd never loved the spotlight that came with his first taste of fame, he had loved acting. Had loved being adored for his skill, applauded for the emotions that he could evoke in crowds of people and the way he could twist people's hearts. He had wanted to be one of the best, a household name.

And now, he stared down at the script for a movie that Andrealphus knew would tank his reputation. It was absolute bullshit. The plot was held together by thin strings and a bit of glue, despite being an adaptation of one of the past decade's best selling books. Not only that, but the moment he left the safety of the apartment once more, he would also have to contend with the rumors that were steadily piling against him and dragging his loved ones and friends into it too.

All this, because Vox had refused to sleep with his shitty boss.

He could still hear the fucker's voice- come on, don't you wanna say that you got a piece of me? I'll even leave out the part about you being a transvestite, darling, just the fact that I got a piece of you is enough.

God. If only.... if only he could see that bastard's face when he crushed his fucking skull in between his hands. He wanted to see Andrealphus' stupid face contort in revulsion and terror when Vox finally did the deed, wanted to bathe in the the fotze's inbred blood. He'd do anything for the chance to just kill that piece of shit-

"Amorcito?"

Val's voice makes Vox jump on the spot, quickly shifting to hide the script from view. His friend comes around the corner, eyebrows furrowed with concern, and it's this that makes Vox break his composure, a single tear falling down his face as Val frowns, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Voxxy, amor... tell me what's wrong."

And because he can never keep his mouth shut when it comes to his best friend, Vox tells him everything. Val nods along, pauses at the right moments, all of that stuff that friends do when they're trying to let you know that they'd rip apart your shitty boss if not for the law.

But- and perhaps this is something that Vox knew deep down to be true anyway- Val was a bit different in that aspect. He'd met the man under... less than legal circumstances, after all, and he knew that Val was the heir to quite the illustrous cartel career.

So when Valentino stops him with a firm hand on the shoulder and hands him an application paper for Hazbin, telling him to think it through, Vox barely takes even a second glance at it before filling it out.

Now, two months later and sitting in the auditorium of Hazbin's famed Music Hall, Vox doesn't find himself regretting the decision. Sure, it's a bit lonely without Val's supporting presence by his side, but the students he's met so far have proved to be some of the friendliest people he's had the pleasure of knowing: ironic, considering the kind of school they're studying at. And he's even managed to make a friend! Not that bad a start, altogether.

Vox absentmindedly doodles on the edge of his notes as Professor Leviathan's soothing voice lectures them on the importance of a proper alibi. "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, but it has an airtight alibi, it is...?"

"Not a duck," the auditorium echoes back to the professor, who nods, looking satisfied with the class's response. "So, then! The first step to alibi making is...? Miss Velvette, perhaps you'd like to answer this one for us?"

The girl sitting beside Vox shoots up in her seat, looking as if she'd just fallen asleep and was awoken by the professor's question. "Uh... the..."

After a moment of silence and stuttering, Vox takes pity on the girl, sliding Velvette over a slide of paper that she squints at before reading. "Make sure you're in a different place from the crime?"

"And how would I do that?"

"I... uh. Use an accomplice...?" Velvette stutters.

Professor Leviathan shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Not quite. One thing you will have to learn at Hazbin's is that you should never rely on any other person to carry your deed out for you. No hiring accomplices- after all, paid personnel's loyalty is shaky and they have no honor code preventing them from taking you to the police- and absolutely no committing crimes as lovers, unless you can guarantee that neither of you will be snitching. Would anyone else like to take a try?"

Vox raises his hand hesitantly. "Move the crime scene or otherwise obscure the culprit?"

Professor Leviathan snaps his fingers, "Yes! Absolutely. One of the best ways to make yourself an iron clad alibi is, if the pope is shot in the church at midnight, make sure that you are seen halfway across town in the bar at midnight; so drunk that you cannot even leave until your wife comes to pick you up at two- and no one will suspect you, even if he was actually killed right outside the pub and moved to the church instead. By moving the crime scene, you can make yourself an ironclad alibi. Obscuring the identity of the perpetrator and making it someone who couldn't possibly be you also works splendidly. After all, if the police believe the murderer to be a six foot tall adult man, then the actual perpetrator, a four foot tall young woman, would be able to pass by completely unnoticed. Thank you for that input, Vox. Now, onto the actual creation of such an alibi..."

When class ends, Vox is the first to leave his seat and head for the door, intending on leaving and getting to Track with Professor Satan as quick as possible when someone stops him in his tracks with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Hey. Vox Vanhal, right?"

"That would be me, yes," Vox turns to face the person he's talking to, only to be met with the young woman that Professor Leviathan had called out in class earlier. "You were... Velvette?"

"Yep, that's me," the chipper young woman responds. "Listen, I know you don't know me at all, but I really need to get through this school year. Like- look, okay, I'm in a little bit over my head right now. I still want to go here and do what everyone here does, of course, I'd love to just go and plunge a damn butcher's knife into my cunt of an ex-friend's neck, but... well, you saw how I did back in class- look, what I'm trying to get at is I need someone to help me. And you're like, Leviathan's star student. So- I don't care what I have to do, I'll-"

Vox holds up a hand to stop her.

"I don't need you to do anything for me, unless you've got any tips on how to kill my boss and make him suffer during it. But I'll help you with whatever you need to study during your courses. Just..." He pauses, taking a moment to think out what he's about to ask. "Could you teach me how you did your makeup on your own?"

Velvette blinks, clearly not expecting that response. She laughs, a shrill, sharp bark and grabs his hand to shake it firmly. "Yeah, 'course I can. So, do we have a deal?"

"We do," Vox smiles. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[katyahina]

Ranni's two sisters (if not cousins?)

It is not just my thoughts, but more like three people discussing the ideas hahah. So, @swallowtail-ageha brought to me the idea that the name of the towers deeper in Caria Manor, The Three Sisters, could be not quite a fancy architecture name, but refer to actual sisters, given the description of Carian Filigreed Crest that we get from Iji:

The way it is specified here that Ranni is Rennala's daughter makes it feel as though other princesses were not, so they could have instead been daughters of Rennala's siblings! I will get to the possible interpretations, but I just want to bring up something interesting that I think makes it even more likely that specifically TWO other princesses existed! When I heard the suggestion about there having BEEN three sisters, I instantly remembered this bit:

Besides a 'normal' Mausoleum, in Liurnia, there are interesting two Mausoleums pretty close to each other geographically, that are unique compared to others! You probably remember them - they do not have a bell underneath but they can leap like frogs, they do not have any spirits around, and they can ONLY duplicate the ashes of the bosses that aren't shard-bearing demigods:

^ Like that, same character (thanks @val-of-the-north for all these screenshots). And there are no other Mausoleums like that.

So, yeah, Ranni once having had two sisters would likely mean that they were not contenders for the throne, as there were no extra sits resorted for them in Leyendell. But this could be more than same fate as those demigods / shard bearers who "failed" Marika. Like, think about it! There are two Mausoleums in Liurnia, that still was a domain of Carians at some point, which behave "downgraded" compared to others, whereas normally Mausoleums are where fallen/failed demigods got buried:

With how these Mausoleums are, it seems like people that are buried in them are not demigods / had no shard, yet still were important enough to earn a burial of this type? And like... would not that make sense if 'being important enough' was being related to the royal family?

I am not entirely sure why they would have no shards themselves? This is where variants really start to split! @swallowtail-ageha suggested that merely being Radagon's child was not all yet to be one, and I can see that! This is actually the full idea:

^ These are ALSO very good points! These Mausoleums are for those who died during Night of the Black Knives, so I agree that whatever the reason for them to (very likely) lack shards is, they died that night too.

And back to the reasoning, me and @val-of-the-north were also discussing the potential ideas of either 'sisters' being actually cousins or Rennala being divorced twice, hah..

The cousins idea would defeat the purpose of the name Three Sisters, sort of, unless you could say it meant 'sisterhood' of princesses. The Japanese name is スリーシスターズ (Surīshisutāzu), like... you can already see that it is English name, simply English 'three sisters' written in Japanese with syllables, rather than Japanese words used. And in English language, sisters could mean not just literal! (Japanese script found in this ( x ) document). What works with it is not just description of Carian Filigreed Crest refering to Ranni being Rennala's daughter as the unique thing, but also Renalla herself showing unambigiously special feelings towards her! It is harder to say a lot about the idea that Rennala had someone before Radagon, it could have happened under pressure of having had a heir, and so the first divorce (or maybe even more likely, loss) did not break Rennala like Radagon leaving did, since she didn't love that previous person? It just leaves even more things to work with- not exactly a bad thing if you love writing many headcanons!

And as for these variants, it made both me and Val think of a guy that might have been relevant:

On the portraits we see Rennala, Azur, Lusat, the conjoined twins guys, (very likely) Sellen and... this guy. Honestly? Could have been not actually a simp really devoted scholar in Raya Lucaria that delved deep into Moon stuff, but Rennala's brother! The royal family basically took over Raya Lucaria, and considering Moon worthy as much as the Stars was specifically what they brought into it! But Azur and Lusat, teachers of Sellen, have been very important already, since the former direction of the academy is connected to them. At the same time, their associated colors are turquoise and blue, whereas Twinsage crown features the same colors both, and Sellen... well, she knew Azur and Lusat, and has been around long enough to deeply resent how much academia has changed. All things considered, she was equally important to the twins before getting banished. The remaining guy behind Lazuli Conspectus sticks out in comparison... unless he tagged along WITH Rennala when she took over the academy!

And yeah, alternatively, he could have just been her previous husband, that was more just a tool under pressure of having heirs; she took over Raya Lucaria before marrying Radagon, and maybe something just happened with that guy, which did not effect her very much since she didn't feel anything for him. A little bad look though.. unless there was a plot twist of Radagon murdering the guy but it was one of the things wiped from collective consciousness with Celestial Dew, and that's why nobody seems to mind? Perception filter! I am not sure with which idea I agree more myself 🤔 But yeah, if the third person is involved, I'd say it had to be this guy - father of the other two "sisters"... Whether they'd be actually cousins or actually half-sisters.

___________________________

So yeah, these are the thoughts! Sorry that was probably a little chaotic, Elden Ring theories are totally not my forte compared with BB ones! It is just that Swallowtail activated my brainrot with that suggestion and I instantly had something to add to that, hahah;

[fizziepopangel]

What if Blitz tried to teach Charlie how to be an assassin if she didn't have that hotel? Do you think Charlie is too nice to be an assassin?

A Fizziepop Take: Let's talk about one helluva boss teaching a demon princess to kill...?

Ok, I love this ask! The idea of Charlie interacting in Blitz is everything I didn't know I needed in all the right ways.

I think Charlie and Blitz would actually get along really well because he would remind Charlie a lot of her friends from the hotel, and I think Blitz would find her kind and overall gentle nature comforting and he would see a lot of Loona's sweeter side in that. If they were to interact, I definitely can Charlie trying to talk to Blitz about "redemption" in a sense of trying to get him to better himself despite his permanent residence in hell since he is hellborn like her, and I think she would kinda scold him for adding to the overpopulation problem in hell by probably sending more souls down to them with his business.... But Blitz being Blitz would absolutely try to bring her over to "the dark side" by showing her that what he and the others do at IMP isn't that bad.

I could see Charlie being interested in Blitz's job considering he does murder for hire but for the most part, the people who come to him seem to have some legit reasons for wanting the target dead (like the guy in "Unhappy Campers" who wanted them to take out whoever killed him). While she wouldn't like the fact that he is adding to the overpopulation problem in hell and she would still see it as "mean", I think she could actually make a kickass assassin.... in very, very specific situations. Regardless of how the person was wronged or what they paid, I don't think Charlie would have the heart to kill someone who she thought could be redeemed in the end, especially not a living human, but looking back at how Charlie reacted to witnessing Angel's abuse at the hands of Valentino in the "Masquerade" episode of Hazbin Hotel, I think she could take someone out who was already in hell and who was there for things like abuse or someone like Val who was a powerful being in hell and still resorted to physical abuse the way Val does to keep his control over his underlings. Despite that just being how things are done, Charlie would feel like there's a gentler way to command respect and authority and I think on some level she knows that while there could be a chance for redemption for some demons, not every soul in hell is going to be able to be redeemed, and I think at some point for the sake of trying to make her home a better place and fix the overpopulation problems they're having, she would see taking demons like Val out as something that had to be done. I think if Blitz tried to teach her for that reason and focused on just killing other demons, she would be able to do it no problem... but she's way too nice to do it just to do it or traveling to the human world the way the IMP gang does ... And since she would mostly work on killing other demons, I think Striker would be a better teacher for her if I'm honest.

But if she didn't have the hotel, and she wasn't on this whole redemption kick the way she is, I don't think she'd be able to do any of this at all. She's a little too softhearted for it and it would probably weigh on her pretty heavily, especially since her father probably made sure the worst things in their realm never got close enough to taint her innocent and optimistic view of most things and people so I don't think she would be able to process killing anyone as quickly as she would need to in order to be good at the job.

[angelduffhazbin]

My Critics about Hazbin Hotel

I'm actually not a fan of cartoons and senseless violence. But Hazbin Hotel was thrown into my timeline with the song “Addict”. The first thing that caught my eye was the color combinations, which I found absolutely unique about this animation style. I also liked the Angeldust twist. On the one hand the super erotic stripper, on the other hand the victim of his pimp. This made me want to look at the plot. And what should I say? I fell in love with the characters. I particularly liked Alastor. Since the series didn't continue for a long time, I watched Helluva Boss and also thought this series was good. 1. From SA to an Rapefetisch(?): The series is criticized for sexualizing Valentino's abusive behavior and the fact that he rapes Angeldust or has him raped. I must say. I am rather ambivalent about this criticism. I remind you again of “Addict”. Angeldust is seen dancing erotically on a pole, while sequences are shown in which he is seen suffering in his bed and Cherry comes to comfort him. You see Valentino force a kiss on him at the end and drive away with him. Basically it doesn't matter whether Raph or Ralph (?) drew a rape comic, which Vivziepop used for her series. Because what happens in episode four is nothing like what happens in "Addict." This interplay of relationship-eroticism and abuse-rape can also be found in the voice messages that Valentino sends Angel. In this way, Valentino continues to bind Angel to him, even without a contract. On the other hand, I can understand that fans are still upset by this. I mean, there is sexual tension between Valentino and Angel Dust. The way Valentino blows the smoke in Angel's face or the way Angel dances on the chains... Then you see them in bed together. Between the scenes in which you see Angel suffering, you also see scenes that could ensure that Val's behavior could be put in a positive light. Maybe Viv should pay a little more attention to this in her production. 2. The old Cast is gone: What made me very sad was that the old voices of our favorite characters weren't used at all. As far as I know, it was because of an argument between Vivziepop and Ashley. Erin, a Spindlehorse team member, revealed a WhatsApp history by messaging Ashley about her mental health during production and Vivziepop seemingly saw it as an attack. Others say Vivziepop learned something unpleasant about Ashley and gossiped about it to others. Whatever it was, the voice actors were dragged into the dispute and fired, among other things, because they were friends with Ashley. I don't know if that's true now. If so, then Viv has a nice place in hell. In any case, I'm a little sad for the old voice actors because I find it unusual to hear the characters now have different voices. I wish Viv had kept the old team. 3. The Main-Characters seem to be Mary Sues: The headline is a little exaggerated. But I had to roll my eyes at some points. Husker is said to have been an overlord. Why? How important is it to the plot that Husk was an overlord? So that he is particularly strong? I liked him as a player who gambled away his soul to Alastor. It hardly makes any sense since we were told by Vaggie in the prologue that Alastor has already killed overlords. So why spare Husk? A fan theory has come true. Vaggie is an angel. *Head greets tabletop* If she knows about Alastor and what he did, I'm guessing she'll be in hell for longer than 10 years. If not, it doesn't matter. She speaks Spanish, likes to swear and as background information we know that she was in an abusive relationship with a man. This had such an impact on her that she became a lesbian, because of it. She also takes the people from the hotel to a gun fight and has them fight there... She's definitely an angel. *irony off* To me it would have been more logical if she had killed her violent boyfriend as a human and ended up in hell because of it. But no. She must be an OP angel. I then wonder what Niffty is. Probably God. lol (Part 2)

[unknowconcreteflower-art-blog-me]

Re-contextualizing Angel Dust: Charlie was not ready for this...

And for the sake of warning Hazbin Hotel is an adult cartoon containing heavy dark subject matter (such as rape and drug abuse, that maybe trigger to views so please tread carefully. Warning out of the way on with the post! I also just wanna get this out there older post my analysis of Val and Angel people kept commenting “what Angel Dust isn’t in love with Valentino” and my rebuttal was “no no that’s a past Angel Dust a younger one who didn’t reach that level of abuse just yet” while their argument was “no it’s the current Angel Dust” which can’t be the case. To prove my point I would like to refer back to the comics and the music video and looking at it with the context of the show. And please read my previous post if you want more explanation on Addict. 

I just want to start off with explaining his relations to Cherri, needless to say Cherri is someone who Angel sees as a true friend and confines in her. And she is there for him as he is for her even willing to fight for her knowing well that he will get in trouble for it. Though one has to wonder why is there such this deep love and care for each other. Looking back to Addict, where we have Cherri singing her “Yeah you fell in love and you fell deeper in this pit...” and several times we have an unknown character pop up during her part of the song. With the little snip bits of info we get from the sequence we can tell that Cherri is in the line of work because of someone who’s over her head. And what they have over is an emotional hold over her if we want to lean in on what the lyrics it might in a romantic sense be we still don’t know who it is tho. So what makes this so important to Angel Dust.

This is because she herself is in the similar situation as Angel as in the both of us are trapped in the holes we dug ourselves into. Giving Angel someone who can understand the stuff he’s going through. Cherri knows why he’s acting out because he’s just trying to hide how hurt he really is cause” hey so does she”. And knows she doesn’t have to say anything but just be there; and takes him out on a night out with her when he’s down. That’s why Cherri is so important to him she’s someone he know that’s not going to look down on him or patronize him on his actions. And his number 1# go to person; which is why he probably reveal to her that he wants to get clean because hey that’s what binds them together... This connects why he broke streak and his stopped his sobriety. 

During the opening scene of the show we have Valentino texting Angel to do work right after the extermination. Which I also have to point out that Val showing a lack of care for Angel safety after the extermination. He clearly wants his money and is making Angel put himself out there for work. And what does he do after he’s done with the job; he falls back on drugs. Now this is important to note... remember during the News broadcast Charlie confirmed that Angel was clean for 2 weeks before all of this happened! He was doing so well what could have possibly made him break his streak-Valentino. 

People were theorizing Val gave drugs to his employees meaning Val isn’t only his pimp but supplier as well! Giving the reason why Angel stayed with Val for so long; when I did my analysis of the music video Addict I said Val maybe the first one to find Angel when he first came to hell. Manipulating Angel in a weakened state to view him as a sort of savior and made him forget his sorrows and how did this happen you may ask... “drugs” using sweet words to mask his hidden agenda. So Val basically trained hims like a dog on a leash in a sense of “you’ll get a love & affection with a treat” which translates to “if you do this job for me I’ll give you all the love you were denied when you were alive as along with the drugs you’ve been craving”. I will argue that Val made Angel even more dependent on drugs; because he made it his number one coping method he’s the enabler. After Angel was assaulted and raped by Valentino probably made it even worse for him because Val’s his boss, he goes to work he has to see him... triggering him to fall back on to drugs. That’s why Angel needs his drugs and needs to numb himself, so him breaking his streak clean after taking a job from Val wasn’t coincidence back then. 

“he’a been behaved, clean and out of trouble for 2 weeks now” until Val got to him...

This makes Val even more dangerous to Angel’s road to recovery than we could have ever imagined. No only that but it makes it difficult to tell someone about it as well Angel is afraid of him and has to stay in contact with him since he’s his employer. This would be good time to bring up my rebuttal for my case of Addict: I get. I identified that the Angel Dust in the beginning of the music video is a younger one that still has some love for before figured out he was using him and he stood up to Val (pre-trauma). And the Angel Dust at the end credits of the music video and the one in the comic is the current Angel Dust and show (post-trauma). When you look at the interactions with Val (via comic vs music video) they are clearly different hence the two different Angel Dusts!

I will be referring to the comics in this section so if you haven’t read them please do.  

When Angel is in the limo with Val he’s trying to make it very apparent that he’s upset that he’s not getting any attention from Val. Being very huffy and puffy not even looking at him as Val’ counting his money, forgetting that he’s right there. This is very important because Angel doesn’t hesitate to hide his emotions, this Angel is willing to show discontentment in front of Val being angry and annoyed at him which leads up to why he doesn’t kiss want him and outright rejects him. He shows he’s willing to fight back against Val’s mistreatment and neglect of him, becoming more aware of it. In my earlier post I deduced this scene is where Angel first time he’s disobeyed Val and finally gets the full picture he understands he doesn’t mean anything to Val and he’s using him. He’s no longer willing to put up with his mind games anymore and probably would have left Val that night... which is why he raped him to gain control over Angel. 

Music video vs. Comic scene

Now looking at the interactions Angel Dust has with Val are completely different he’s submissive to Valentino when we see his conversation in the limo. Not only that but it shows why Angel Dust went on that drug deal for Val; to show him he can do something else other than being a sex-worker. Angel wants out and this was his way of giving himself another option but Val shuts it down completely! Even before he entires, he’s holding his arm in fear and discomfort, even when he’s trying to plead his case he is terrified. He’s no longer willing to fight back because of what Val did to him. And Val reminds him constantly that he could do it again if he wanted to by reminding him of that night! He does this by grabs Angel face when he tries to explain himself, like he did when he forced Angel to kiss. Val forces him to smiles when he leaves the limo he wants him to never show any form of disagreement or disobedience like the last time because that’s what got him in trouble last. To add more salt in the wound he makes him Angel call him “Mister Valentino” reminding him he’s in control! The man is practical holding a gun over Angel saying “the same thing will happen, if you disobey me again...” AND THAT IS SADISTIC AS HELL! It making me hate Val even more and after he leaves the limo all he can do is let out his anger in silence as when he smokes similar to when we see him smoke at the end credits to Addict this Angel is our current Angel Dust. This is his way of expressing his sorrow in silence why he’s an addict.

So you maybe asking how does Cherri bomb come into play, well I don’t think after the initial incident with Val who does Angel confine to Cherri and destroy a bar together. You see the pattern; Angel has a break down, uses his drugs comes off of the high, he goes to Cherri and in turn go out, and have fun well her kind of destructive fun! And it has been confirmed that he learn all about weapons from Cherri so basically this is the reason why! He wasn’t breaking his clean streak “to do his girl buddy a solid”  he went because he wanted to be with the only person who could understand him at that time. And she just happened to be in a fight and he jumped in thinking  “oh my home girl’s in trouble I gotta help her out...” and that’s probably did out of instinct to protect Cherri. Charlie and Vaggie cut in... now things start to get a little dicey I’m not trying to attack them but they didn’t handle it this best way. They didn’t know anything, and before know Angels story a lot of people are upset with Angel’s action but now that we have context they’re (Charlie & Vaggie) in the wrong. 

These are the points of why Angel cannot confine to Charlie or Vaggie, I will also argue that they pushed Angel further from them. Angel is someone who’s very prideful and isn’t going to tell someone that he’s hurt. Unless they figure it out for themselves or feels safe with them (Cherri). Looking back Vaggie & Charlie made a huge “No-No...” and this scene is incredibly painful to watch. Let’s cut to Vaggie how does she address Angel by scolding him for his actions she goes right to the blame game, which is the last thing she should be doing if they really want to help Angel. They don’t even take the chance to ask him why he did it; unintentionally isolating him from help. 

What bother me is that Vaggie is quick to call Angel’s actions are a result of being “selfish” which is not the case now that we have context. And probably why Angel just kept trying to piss off Vaggie because he knows that his actions weren’t out of wanting be “selfish”... and makes it clear that he still wants to go clean. It probably actually really hurt him to when she said that  and I’d like to point out that people who struggle with addiction it’s not easy to stay clean and people can relapse. Basically what Vaggie did was shamed Angel for relapsing which is not okay and paints him as a bad guy immediately! To say he ruined the image of the hotel ... it made me furious at Vaggie putting all the blame on Angel. And we know that’s not the case even before the fight was broad casted the demons and sinners in Hell were already laughing at Charlie’s idea and let’s be honest it was reasonable. Because WE DON’T KNOW IF IT’S POSSIBLE YET so putting all the blame on Angel Dust was uncalled if anything it’s just the cherry on top. I’m not trying to attack Charlie but she really doesn’t know what she’s doing she doesn’t know how to send a soul into heaven. Is it irresponsible to broadcast a client before they are proven successful, not only that but it puts a lot of pressure on Angel to prove theory that we’re not sure is true yet.

And let’s be honest did Charlie really believe Vaggie’s word’s wouldn’t but hurtful they didn’t even take the time to ask him why he did it; immediately writing him off when clearly somethings going on now she’s painting the image that they don’t care about him, they just care about the hotel, and that they just wanted to use him as a poster boy! Hmm... now who has used Angel Dust in the past for their own personal agenda... oh yeah VALENTINO! Which is why he goes on saying “I made you look sad and pathetic...” he chooses those words not to just make Vaggie mad but that’s probably what he was really feeling on the inside. Angel really did want to apologize to Charlie but after what Vaggie said to him it probably made him feel like his apology meant nothing and leaves these actions carry on into Addict. This is where naivety is her biggest downfall she rushed into it thinking just keeping Angel clean is gonna redeem him she was so not ready to broad cast the hotel. She makes it sound easy but it so much harder than that!

THIS WAS A 100% CALLED FOR! AND SHE DOESN”T EVEN REALIZE IT!

This is why Angel flips off Charlie and doesn’t want to talk to her, he’s basically doing cause “Why should I tell you about my problems you don’t really care you just care about your hotel...” that’s why this is so important to highlight. They already gave him that impression, that they think little of him and that they aren’t going sympathize with him but scold him. And Charlie should have stopped Vaggie yelling when she had the chance. Vaggie sabotaged her chance to understand Angel Dust and help him. And did she really think her temperamental girlfriend was the one to help sympathize and redeem sinners.  If she really wants to help Angel Dust she needs to stop thinking it’s gonna be a cupcake walk, people have reasons why they fall to these bad habits; people have issues, relationships, traumas, that they need to navigate before they can heal. Which makes me believe that Charlie isn’t the one who’s going to get Angel Dust to open up to them about his trauma. Vaggie’s out of the question if not then who... 

HUSKER 

Yup our favorite flying poker kitty... I’ll do a separate post on that because it deserves it’s own explanation! (Side note I really do love Vaggie we don’t know her story so don’t hate her) Hope you guys enjoy the post~

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (10/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Life Lessons, Part 2}

“Regretting your life choices yet?” Sam asked as Danny scowled down at the still crying sack of flour.

“I've been a parent all of one day and I’m probably already down to a C-.”

“Life could be worse. You could be that guy,” Sam said, pointing to where the Nasty Burger’s mascot was being terrorized by a bunch of kids.

“Oooh! Nasty Nat! Let's get a family photo with him.”

“You're taking this way too seriously,” Sam said as Tucker pushed her and Danny towards the mascot.

Sam glared off the kids while Tucker asked for a photo, which Danny took for them.

“You want me to take one of you? Family photos help boost your grade.”

“Not without Val here,” Danny said, passing Sam the camera and rocking his still crying sack. “I don’t want to give Tetslaff the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea being the fact Valerie stuck you with all the work?” Sam asked.

“We talked about it. She has a job, Sam.”

“So she says.” When Danny shot her a look, she said, “Right, sorry. Giving her a chance.”

Danny sighed and looked down at the sack. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a dad.”

“Try supporting its top more.” Danny looked up at the muffled voice to see Nasty Nat standing near him. He gestured awkwardly at Danny’s arms.

Danny shifted his arms so its head was held up by his elbow and it started to quiet down. “Wow, uh, thanks, dude.”

The mascot nodded and waddled off.

Just in time as the trio’s ghost senses went off.

“Beware!”

As one, they groaned and shouted, “Not it!”

“We should really learn that that’s not going to work anymore,” Tucker chuckled.

“I’ll go,” Sam sighed and headed towards the back of the restaurant. “You two can manage the sacks.”

“You sure you’re not sticking Tucker with all the work?”

She turned around to walk backward and pointed at Tucker. “That’d be a good burn if it wasn’t for the fact he actually likes this stupid assignment.”

Danny chuckled and rocked the baby, smiling as she finally quieted down.

Then the explosions started. They looked up to see Sam fighting Valerie.

“Oh no,” Danny said. “Tuck, can you watch the kid for me?”

“Only because I don’t want Sam to get killed. Go stop your baby mama.”

“Sam’s right, you are taking this too seriously,” Danny said, handing over his sack.

He started to run off, but an explosion in front of him threw him back.

“Danny!”

He looked up with wide eyes to see the Nasty Burger sign falling.

Valerie grabbed him and pulled him out of the way just as Sam swooped down to hide Tucker’s intangibility.

“You okay?” the ghost hunter asked.

“Yeah, maybe be a little more careful with the missiles next time,” he said, shifting so he could kneel on her board.

“Sorry. The ghost kid was in one of their slow moods so I wanted to try and take them out before they could pick up speed. Besides, I’m only on a five-minute break.” Val set down behind the Nasty Burger and Danny hopped down so she could fold up her board. She pulled down her mask and looked him over. “Where’s the baby?”

“Tucker has her. I was, uh, about to go to the bathroom so I asked him to watch her.”

“Alright. You sure you’re okay?”

He smiled and set his hand on her shoulder. “I’m fine, really.”

She smiled back.

“Valerie?”

“Oh crud, that’s my boss,” she whispered and retracted her suit.

He glanced at her uniform. “You work at the Nasty Burger?”

“Tell anyone and I end you,” she hissed as she stuffed her guns into her backpack.

“I won’t. But why the secrecy? What do you do?”

“None of your business,” she said, elbowing him playfully. She looked down at him as she stood up straight and there was mischief in her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Have fun with the kid, honey. I’m headed off to work.”

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth.

“Well now, this is unexpected.”

The two spun around to see Skulker floating behind them, a gun charging. Neither could react before it fired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny groaned and sat up. “What hit me?”

“That would be me.”

The half-ghost scowled and turned to see Skulker standing over him. His breath caught as he noticed the cage bars between him and Skulker. He looked around to see he was in a steel cage that was glowing dark blue. And he wasn’t alone.

“What’s with the cage? I thought you wanted our pelts. And why’s Valerie here?” Danny growled, getting to his feet and marching towards him.

“There’s been a change of plans. You should be grateful. I had planned to have one of you fight to the death with the huntress, but knowing she is your mate makes you far more appealing for my collection. The pelts of your other sides will have to do.”

Danny gaped at the hunter ghost. “Okay, first of all, no one is ever going to be grateful to be in a cage, you creep. Second, Val is my friend, none of us would have killed her. Third, please tell me you mean mate in the British sense, because if Johnny and Kitty have been telling people I’m dating Val I’m going to kick their butts. Forth, gross dude.”

Skulker just smirked at him. “You cannot hide your relationship from me, ghost child. I heard you speaking about your child with your mate.”

Danny hit his head on the bars. “We’re fifteen. We don’t have a kid. Our school just makes sophomores partner up to take care of a flour sack. Teach us responsibility and stuff. We were joking about the assignment because we got paired up. Val and I are just friends.”

Skulker eyed him for a moment, then frowned. “Really?”

“Yes!”

“Teenagers,” Skulker growled, running a hand over his face.

“Sorry to inconvenience you. Now if you could just let us go.”

Skulker snorted and turned to leave. “Welcome to your new home.”

Danny glared at his back and tried to push his hands through the bars.

“And before you get any ideas, that cage was made with you halfas in mind. No phasing through it for humans or ghosts.”

“You know Sam and Tucker are going to come to get us!” Danny yelled as the ghost moved out of sight.

Skulker didn’t respond.

“Stupid frog.” Danny turned to the bars and tried to summon the energy for an ectoblast, to no avail.

After trying and failing to use the rest of his powers, he sat down next to Valerie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m going to tear that stupid ghost apart, then put him back together so I can take him apart a second time!”

Danny stared at the ceiling, not bothering to respond as it was the one hundred and thirty-seventh time Valerie had said those words, or at least that’s how many times she’d said it since he’d decided that counting would at least give him something to do.

And Sam thought zoos were bad. At least they gave the animals something to do.

They also gave them food.

“Hey Frogger, you do realize humans need food and stuff to survive right?” Danny yelled, cutting over Valerie’s one hundred and thirty-eighth rendition of her threats. “Also, do the words animal enrichment mean anything to you?”

“Don’t call us animals,” she huffed.

“Technically humans are still a type of animal. And I’ll call us whatever I have to to get something to eat. I know you feel the same.” If Danny -- who could partially sustain himself on the zone’s ambient ectoplasm even while in human form and had just eaten when he’d been grabbed -- was hungry, then Valerie -- who was fully human and likely didn’t have a chance to grab something after school with her job -- had to be starving.

“I won’t give in to a ghost.”

“Meh, I prefer to show rebellion through stupid nicknames and punny taunts rather than by denying myself the basic necessities.”

“You’re being far too calm about this,” she huffed, moving to stand over him.

He shrugged. “Panicking never helps and I already did the anger thing before you woke up so I’m mostly just bored now.”

“So you’re content to spend the rest of your life here?”

“You say that like it will be a long time, which it won’t because Skulker doesn’t seem inclined to feed or water us.” When she met his joke with a glare, he sat up. “We’ve already established neither of us has the skills or equipment to pick the lock or bend the bars, so escape’s not happening. Skulker wants to keep us, which is very creepy, but at least means we aren’t going to die. So all we can do is wait out our rescue.”

“You think someone will rescue us?” Valerie asked, sitting next to him.

Danny pulled out his phone. “It’s been fifteen hours since we were grabbed. Skulker can be sneaky, but someone still might have seen him bringing us to the portal. And even if no one human saw us, invisibility doesn’t work in the zone. We were definitely seen and gossip is crazy in the zone. Doppelgänger will hear about this soon enough.”

“So?” she snorted. “We’re Red Huntress and a Fenton. Why would they help us?”

“The ghosts might not know that,” Danny said, thinking quickly. “All Doppelgänger would probably hear is that two humans from their territory got taken.”

“I guess that makes sense.” She laid down and Danny followed suit.

He stared up at the ceiling, then his lips twitched up. “Want to know what I’m really worried about?”

She hummed.

“Is getting kidnapped by a ghost a good enough excuse in Tetslaff’s book for not taking care of the baby?”

There was a beat of silence then she laughed. “Oh my god! She’ll probably make us redo it from the very start!”

“I mean, I left her with a responsible sitter. That should count for something.”

“Tucker, responsible?”

“I mean, he’s working with Sam. She’ll kick his butt if he goes off the rails.”

“That makes more sense.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valerie eyed the food the ghost had thrown into their cage suspiciously. Her stomach felt like it was eating itself, but…

“How do you even know it's safe?” she asked, looking over at Danny, who was halfway through his own Mighty Meaty Cheesy Melt.

“Like I said, he doesn’t want us dead, so it’s not poisoned. And there’s no ectoplasm in it. Even if there was, that whole eat of the dead, become of the dead thing only applies to specific ghost fruits, which aren’t on here because he clearly stole it from the Nasty Burger and, again, no ectoplasm.”

“How do you know there’s no ectoplasm?”

“Ectoplasm has this strong citrusy taste that can’t be covered up with anything but mounds of relish, and there’s no relish on the burger.”

“Ho-How do you know that?”

“My parents aren’t as careful with pure ectoplasm as they probably should be.”

“That’s…”

“I know. Sam and Tucker refuse to eat over anymore unless it’s takeout and we bring it straight to my room. Really though, the food’s fine. Nothing weird in it, promise.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you to know what’s weird anymore,” Valerie said, but grabbed her burger anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Val closed her eyes as she sunk further into the water. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or concerned that you literally annoyed a ghost into giving us a bathroom.”

“Grateful?” Danny suggested from the other side of the curtain that hid the toilet and bath from the rest of the cage. “It’s a gift, really.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny snickered at Valerie’s glare.

“If I had my weapons…”

“Calm down, Val. They’re not doing any harm.”

“They won’t GET OFF!”

“They like you,” he chuckled and plucked off one of the blob ghosts.

He wasn’t sure how, but his usual swarm had found them and were now drifting about the cage. Some had attached themselves to the top like bats. Others had burrowed into their blanket nest. A few had made a home inside his jacket or atop his hair. A lot had decided Valerie was a very nice spot to sleep and had latched onto her.

The ghost in his hand vibrated, almost like it was purring except it sounded more musical.

“I’m going to smash them!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How does your phone even still have power?” Valerie asked as they watched Thor cut Thanos’s head off.

They were cuddled close in their nest of blankets with Valerie’s head on his shoulder so they could both see the small screen.

“Tucker upgraded it so it would run on ectoplasm for convenience’s sake.”

“Ectoplasm is convenient?” she chuckled, idly scratching one of the blobs curled up in her lap.

“It is in my house.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valerie gave the beast sitting on the other side of the cage a death glare.

“Yap!”

“You are so lucky I don’t have any weapons.”

Cujo rolled over onto his back and wagged his tail.

“Danny, make him leave with your annoying powers!”

The boy just reached over and rubbed the dog’s belly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valerie was tossing the rubber ball Skulker had given Danny -- and by given, she meant the ghost had thrown it at his head after four hours of constant complaining of being bored -- for Blobert to fetch when a soft sound reached her, almost like someone was shushing someone else.

“Hello?”

There was quiet for a moment, then a blue-purple flash came from around the corner. A second later Doppelgänger poked their two heads out, smiling. “Valerie!”

“Yep. You here for the show or are you actually going to help us?”

They scowled and looked at each other. “Can’t we just leave her here? We’d never hear the end of it if we did. She’s the ghost hunter, let her figure her own way out.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“We know,” they chirped.

Valerie sat up. “Listen here, you little -”

She cut off as she was reminded that Danny had been laying with his head on her stomach by a soft whine. She looked down to see him blinking up at her, his head now in her lap.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” he yawned.

“Ghost kid’s here. They’re arguing with themself about if they’re going to help us or not.”

Danny stared at her, processing, then sat up and glared at the ghost kid, who raised their hands with guilty smiles.

“We were only kidding.” They flew over to the cage and looked it over.

“It’s ghost and human-proof,” Danny told them.

“How’re we supposed to open it then? It’s got a manual lock. We need to stop living in the digital age for once. Shut up.”

“They’re always like this,” Valerie whispered to Danny as he chuckled at their antics. “I don’t know if it's a ghost thing or if they’re just messed up in the head.”

“We think aloud, jerk,” they snapped as one came forward and pulled a pair of bobby pins out.

Danny moved closer as they knelt next to the cage’s door. “You know how to pick a lock?”

They smiled at him and pushed up their goggles to give him a wink before they squinted down at the lock and started fiddling with it.

Valerie was surprised their eyes were yellow. She’d assumed they’d be green like their goggles.

“That’s a lot of blobs,” they said, the one not picking the lock looking over the cage.

“Just over three dozen and they all have names,” Danny said cheerfully.

“They’re just random pun names based around the word blob,” Valerie chuckled.

“Blobbington. Blobby. Blobin. Blo-”

“We get it,” the ghosts snorted, cutting Danny off.

It took a few moments, but then the ghost kid was floating back and the door swung open.

“Freedom!” Danny cheered as they left the cage. He turned to the blobs and made shooing motions. “Alright, you lot, back home with you.”

The swarm made sad ringing sounds, but flew off in various directions.

Meanwhile, the ghost kid that had picked the lock fixed their goggles back into place and put away the pins as the other passed Valerie her backpack and pointed at the wall across from them. “Go straight that way. We’ll meet you on the other side.”

“You want us to go through the wall.”

“Humans can be intangible in the ghost zone. Just try, you’ll see,” they said before heading back the way they came.

Danny walked up to the wall and stuck his arm through. “They’re right.”

“I guess that’s what Skulker meant by human proof,” she said as she followed him over and tried it for herself. “He must have done something to the cage so we wouldn’t slip right through.”

“Guess so. Ladies first?”

She rolled her eyes and stuck her head through to make sure no one was on the other side. They continued like that until they reached a wall that only had a void on the other side. She put on her suit and they jumped through. She summoned her board before they could fall too far, then looked around.

“We should leave now while we have the chance.”

“Great idea. Which way do you think the portal is?” Doppelgänger asked with a snort as they flew up.

She sent them a glare.

“Thanks for the help,” Danny said, setting his hand on her shoulder. “Can you show us the way out?”

They turned to her, crossing their arms.

She crossed her own arms and stared back.

“Can we please save this for after we’re far away from the ghost who locked us in a cage for eight days?”

“We’re not the ones who got locked up,” Doppelgänger reminded them.

“Maybe so, but you are the ones who are going to be stuck in a thermos for an hour if you don’t knock it off,” he said. “Can we just agree to a truce until we get out of here? Please?”

“Fine,” they said and one held out their hand.

Valerie shook it. “For now. Get us out of this ghost zone, and we'll see how long it lasts.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sorry this has been a while. Hyperfixations are a B. I'm going to post what I have and hopefully, that will rekindle enough for me to finish this.

[dameronology]

london calling {poe x reader} - 1

a modern coffee shop au 

in this chapter: you could have sworn that london was trying to eat you alive. you didn’t ask the universe for a reason to stay in the city but it gave you one anyway - in the form of poe dameron, your new manager. 

warnings: swearing 

this was based off of a dream i had & then @cherieboba​ mentioned an AU...and now we have this. enjoy!

- val xx 

‘Will you watch where you’re fucking going?!’ 

You hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays were truly and completely awful in every sense of the word. They were slightly better than Mondays but still...undeniably dreadful. This one had been no exception. You’d woken up late (and hungover, but that wasn’t relevant) and you were convinced that the Department of Transport had personally paid every single commuter to make your life a living hell that morning. Whatever patience you’d had upon waking up - and trust me, it wasn’t much - had worn completely thin by the time you’d been released from the hellish grips of the London Underground. 

Your main concern was getting to work on time. The start of your shift coincided perfectly with the morning rush - also known as two straight hours of grumpy, uncaffeinated commuters. It was your job as a barista to provide them with coffee and to do-so in a timely manner. Anything less than thirty seconds would often result in a middle-aged, greying businessman coming for your ass. This morning, you were prepared to bite back. 

‘How nice of you to show up.’ 

‘I know, I know!’ You pushed past your co-worker, tugging your apron around your waist as you did. ‘I overslept,’

Finn rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head. ‘Then you owe me five pounds.’

‘Why?’ You grumbled, pulling an order receipt from his hand.

‘The bet, remember?’ He replied. ‘You have officially been late twenty times so far this year.’

You let out a groan, mind going back to New Year’s Eve. The pair of you had made a deal that whoever was the first to be late twenty times owed the other a fiver - and it looked like you would be paying for his lunch today. It was unusual for you to be late so many times in a row but in the absence of a manager or acting boss, you’d let yourself slip a tiny bit. You knew that had to end today, however, because your new manager was due to start. 

‘I’ll give it to you when I get paid.’ You said. ‘My rent is already late and that five pounds could be detrimental-’

‘- I’m just taking the piss.’ Finn chuckled. ‘Get these orders done and we’re even.’ 

He slid you the pile of receipts and you immediately slipped into autopilot. You’d been a barista for the better part of five years by that point; your hands could be at work whilst your mind was elsewhere. That was certainly the case today - your mind was raking through your financial woes and the fact that your rent was due four days ago - as you worked. After fifteen minutes of here’s a small skinny latte for Brian! and a large Americano to go for Roger!, you’d completely ridded the shop of the queue. 

‘Busy morning, huh?’

You peered up from the coffee machine, eyes falling on the man in front of you. He was holding a half-empty cup of coffee, a smile on his face and warm brown eyes examining the mess of coffee and milk around your work station. He had a tangle of messy curls and...well, hot fucking damn. What else were you supposed to say?

‘Uh, yeah.’ You smiled. ‘Highlight of my day, I suppose.’

He grinned at you. ‘Do you enjoy working here?’

‘Yeah.’ You nodded. ‘I mean - it gets stressful but a job’s a job, right?’

‘Right.’ He replied, eyes falling to where your name tag rested on your apron. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Trying to hide the blush on your face, you picked up the empty milk cartons and carried them through to the kitchen at the back of the shop. Finn was already in there on his phone, swiping through Tinder. Your best friend’s love life was often a subject that came up on shift - as far you were concerned, he deserved the world. It was finding the world that was the hard part. 

‘Hot customer alert.’ You greeted him. ‘And I mean hot.’

‘What kind of cute are we talking?’ Finn looked up from his phone. ‘Like...Leo Dicaprio in Titanic cute kind of hot or Leo Dicaprio in the Revenant, large and hairy kind of hot?’

‘Kind of in the middle.’ You replied, dumping the cartons in the bin. ‘He said he would see me around, so I guess he’s a new regular?’

‘Actually,’ somebody else’s voice came from the doorway. ‘I meant see you around as in I’m the new manager.’

You had never wanted the ground to swallow you more. Seriously - if the jaws of death could have opened right there and then, you’d be willing to jump into them with the tip of your hat and a so long, folks! This was definitely the worst Tuesday of your life. That was truly saying something, because you’d spent all of last Tuesday scraping dried milk off of a table. And, the Tuesday before that, you’d got stuck in the doors of the tube on the Jubilee Line and then -

-Not relevant. The presence of other shitty days didn’t erase the fact that you had just called your manager hot and compared him to Leonardo Dicaprio. Right to his face. 

‘Hey, Finn?’ You glanced up at your co-worker. ‘I think it’s time I quit-’

‘- no, I take it as a compliment!’ He chortled. ‘I’m Poe, Poe Dameron. You’re the assistant manager, right?’

‘Yeah.’ You nodded, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. ‘Unless you fire me.’

‘No, I like a colleague who bigs me up.’ Poe grinned at you. It only made the blush worse. ‘It’s a nice store. I’m excited to work here.’

‘And I assume you know how to make coffee?’ You quirked an eyebrow at him. 

‘I could do it in my sleep.’

You handed him an apron. ‘Brilliant.’

It seemed as though whoever was above had answered your prayers, because another queue quickly began to form and you had to get back to work. Poe and Finn chatted amongst themselves, bonding over the fact that they were both Americans working in London. You, meanwhile, focused on pumping out oddly specific coffee orders. 

‘A hot-but-not-too-hot black Americano for Holdo!’ You called. 

Mrs Holdo - or, Holdo as she insisted on being called - was one of your regulars. She was a high powered business woman who stopped by the coffee every morning. It was usually one of the highlights of working the morning shift. You were convinced she was on steroids of some point because she was the literal definition of a power bitch. The fact she dyed her hair lavender made her even more iconic. 

‘Morning!’ You beamed at her, sliding her drink across the counter. ‘How are things at the law firm?’

‘Stressful, as always.’ She grabbed the cup. ‘New manager, I see?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘That’s Poe.’ 

‘You talkin’ shit?’ He grinned at you, giving you a wink. 

Once the queue had died down again, you made yourself a coffee. A few people were fluttering about the shop; it was the usual, really. There was a businessman on his laptop at one table and an artist at the next. One of the perks of working in such a central area was all the people you got to meet. It certainly made the job more interesting - and you had a feeling that your new manager was only going to add to that. 

‘So - tell me about yourself.’ Poe leant against the counter next to you, nudging you with his elbow. ‘Other than the fact you think I’m hot and that you probably love Leonardo Dicaprio.’

You let out a groan. ‘You’re killing me, man.’

‘If that’s the case, I hope you get someone to cover your shifts before you die.’

‘Isn’t that your job?’ You shot back. ‘Being the manager and all.’

‘You are my assistant manager-’

‘- no I am the assistant manager.’ You cut him off. ‘And I’ve been here five years so I know all that you could possibly need about running this place.’

‘Mm?’ Poe raised his eyebrows. ‘Care to share?’

‘Finn can’t be on shift with Hux - he’s an irritating part timer, really up himself - because they will kill each other.’ You paused to take a sip of your coffee. ‘And Kaydel is super sweet but she’s always late, so it’s best to put her on afternoon shifts.’

‘Like you were late this morning?’

You groaned again. ‘It was just one of those mornings - it was one thing after the other. I swear it won’t happen again. 

Poe gave you a soft smile, the sarcasm fading from his face. ‘I’m just kidding. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’

With that, he took the coffee from your hand and took a sip. ‘Jesus Christ, what is in this?’

‘Four shots of vanilla syrup.’ You snatched your drink back from him. ‘Let me guess - you’re the kind of guy that exclusively drinks espressos and judges people for adding sugar?’

He simply raised his eyebrows, holding his hands up in defense. 

--

Nine hours later, your shift was finally over; you were closing with Poe, who was currently sweeping the floor and singing I Want To Break Free. Your feet were aching but thanks to the free coffee, you were slightly buzzed. You’d decided that you liked your new manager - there were some pitfalls, however. Watching him flirt with every woman that came in was bordering on painful by the time lunchtime came around. 

‘Rey’s here!’ Finn popped up from behind the coffee machine. He was supposed to be cleaning it, but it looked as though he was counting coffee beans instead. ‘Do I look okay?’

‘No different than usual, Finny.’ You replied. 

Rey was your room-mate and best friend (Finn would argue differently). She worked in a primary school a few streets away from the coffee shop. She usually came in after you’d shut to get a free drink - she also drove to work, which meant you didn’t have to take public transport home. After a nine hour shift and with an impending caffeine crash, being shoved into a small tube carriage was your idea of hell. With that said, Rey’s driving wasn’t much better. 

Fiddling with your keys, you unlocked the door to let Rey in. She looked tired - presumably from chasing after little children all day. You could see a bottle of wine sticking out from the top of her bag. That was this evening’s plans solved. 

‘Hey!’ She greeted you brightly. ‘Hey, Finn!’

‘Rey, hey!’ Your co-worker waved at her. ‘I mean hey, rey!’

‘I’m just gonna clock out.’ You said, glancing over your shoulder at Poe. ‘If that’s cool with you?’

‘God knows, god knows I want to break - oh yeah, that’s fine!’ He suddenly pulled his headphones out. 

‘This is Rey, by the way. She’s an honorary team member here.’ You explained. ‘And this is Poe, our new manager.’

‘She thinks I’m cute.’ Poe grinned. 

You turned to face Rey. ‘I’ll explain later.’

‘Right. Of course.’ She gave you a wink. ‘I went home at lunch to feed Chewy. He’s eaten another pair of your shoes.’

Chewie was your six-month-old border terrier puppy. He reeked havoc pretty much everywhere he went - usually leaving a trail of fur behind him - but you loved him dearly. He’d earned his name after eating through eleven pairs of shoes in his first week at your apartment. 

‘Of course he has.’ You grumbled. ‘See you tomorrow!’

‘See you!’ Finn waved at you, before giving Rey a sweet smile. 

‘See you in the morning!’ Poe called. ‘And be on time!’

tags: @thespareoom @softly-sad @interwebseriesfan24 @yougottakeeponkeepinon​ @princessxkenobi​ @blue-space-porgs​ @cherieboba​ @highlycommendable​

[vampiresuns]

Such You and I

✴︎♈︎ SUCH YOU AND I ♈︎✴︎

2.8k words. In which Valerius worries about Anatole and finds it impossible to be the Consul in front of him. When it comes to him, he will always be his uncle. He will always be Valeriy. Set as a companion piece to ‘Creature Comfort’.

This mentions Jamil, Alec and Leon, who belong to @apprenticealec​.

“Clean water sources, especially if we can get a way to pool the infected water back so we can study it are a priority, the chain supply for the flooded district completely broke, and you need to speak to the Guild of Merchants about it. A new group of nurses has been taken to the Lazaret this morning, and according to three different accounts we should get more court magicians to see whether or not this disease has a magical origin. Did I miss anything, Consul?”

Valerius watched Anatole as he made a sprint outside of the room, considering having him stopped. He was about to but decided against it. Bringing Anatole by force back would only make whatever had gotten into him worse, though he knew his nephew enough to have a couple of ideas about what it could be. 

Foolish boy, he thought, yet kept his assessments to himself despite a couple of tries from Lucio to rouse a reply out of him. He would rather keep his nephew away from his former hate-fuck’s mouth, thanks very much.

He had no choice but to continue this horrid meeting on his own.

His anger towards Aelius was measured: it was about leaving a meeting in such a manner and allowing his feelings to get the best of him, leaving him alone in an useless, frustrating position. How dare he leave him when he knew he had begun to hate his job so much, the fallout of it becoming too big for the satisfactions it brought too quickly. Valerius didn’t mind being ignored, he needn’t people agreeing with him to assert himself; he hated being embarrassed and being played a fool in a Court where he was the only adept Courtier. 

He was responsible for almost every office and he was already about to go postal about it, no need for his nephew to leave a meeting in such an unbecoming fashion. 

So yes, as the Consul he was furious, but as an uncle, not as Valerius of the Cassano of Vesuvia but as Valeriy Radošević, brother of Vlad, son (sort of) of Florentino and Mircea, he was worried sick.

‘Lilu’ had stellar Court records. Of course, there were a couple of incidents here and there, but overall no one else of the younger Court members did as well as Anatole. He had checked, being the Consul allowed him some leeway in demanding certain papers to be delivered to his desk.

Anatole staying was less of a matter of proving himself (his notes and his record keeping were impeccable, and if something were to be missing, he knew his nephew would know how to make up for it), and more of a matter of strategy. Lucio, whether anyone wanted it or not, was going to die. Perhaps the Plague would take all of before it took him, but he couldn’t outlast it. If he died, Satrinava would become the Countess and in that case, Valerius planned to book his office and leave in the hands of Anatole because no ambition of his was big enough to stand having that woman as her boss. 

Incompetent goodie-two shoes. Lucio should’ve never been the Count, he didn’t have any sort of political capacity and whatever old man Spada was on when he appointed him as his successor proved to be a stronger drug than those Valerius was aware existed. But Nadia, a Prakran, former war enemy of Vesuvia taking the position was suspicious. What were her territorial ambitions? What was the true position of her desires for the City? She couldn’t both be Lucio’s wife and someone who pretended to care about Vesuvians. 

It didn’t even work as a publicity stunt, and Valerius knew all about caring for publicity. But she was good, and he couldn’t stand her, so the sooner Anatole took his duties from him when Lucio finally left this world with a pile of unsolved bullshit for them to deal with, the better. 

Anatole was supposed to be there to prove himself a worthy Consul to Satrinava, in case she took over and decided bringing someone from outside was better than having a Cassano for a Consul. A friendly reminder of how inadvisable that was, so to speak: the County was Vesuvia’s head, but the Consulship was its neck, and the head turned wherever the neck wanted it to. 

Even through his machinations, Valeriy-The-Uncle came through. Anatole was grieving. They all were. Anatole grieved Paris, his maternal aunt, who had died from a blood disease unrelated to the Plague. He grieved the death of Vesuvians, he grieved the death of Anzano and was worried about Amparo who hadn’t caught the plague while tending to them by a miracle. Anatole had too many duties which weren’t his responsibility, like Valerius himself, and yet shouldered them with more excellence than he himself did. He tended to keep longer hours and he still grieved.

There was also Alec, Jamil’s protegée and Anatole’s friend, who had died under Dr. Devorak’s care — while that had been her own decision, it had made Anatole and the Doctor stand on weird ground, all of the sudden. He grieved that too.

Valerius was sorry for it. He didn’t pity his nephew, he wasn’t stupid. Anatole was never to be the subject of anyone’s pity and if anyone ever did have the gall to have such an inferior feeling towards him, then they’d have to have some words about it with Valerius. Instead, he was sad about Anatole. His little pest was never meant to be a creature of hardship, yet the world cared little for that. His little pest deserved to be happy, more than most. 

And his little pest had run directly into a plague ridden City at the mere mention of his friends’ sadness, and Valerius suspected it was so he didn’t have to deal with his own.

That, or Anatole was running back to Leon. If he was, Anatole was more of a fool than Valerius ever thought his nephew capable of being. Granted, he didn’t always understand his choices in partners, and he suspected neither did Anatole about his own. Though meaning no offence to Jamil’s friend — for once — he truly did think Anatole could do better than Leon. 

He could, for example, find someone who was willing to stay for him, withstand his shitstorm of a job with him, not out of selfish interest but out of love for Anatole. He deserved someone who thought the sun rose and set with him, and the moon shone to illuminate him only. Call him a sap, an old romantic, but Valerius believed it, and he didn’t believe Leon was capable of it. 

After the meeting he settled in the library, giving notice to his office to please let him know if his nephew came back. He picked a book at random and paid absolutely no attention as he waited, looking out of one of the windows instead. He supposed it was a bit hypocritical of him to judge Leon for that, when he knew Jamil was in town and he couldn’t even get up his own buttocks to see his friend. 

“But it’s different,” he muttered to himself. 

Was it? He was going to stand by thinking it was, and it wasn’t like it didn’t put him to shame. He was well aware he should be there for Jamil, or at least to try and reach out; however their history was different, more complex, more difficult. Leon wasn’t the reason Anatole had dramatically declared at the age of 21 he would never marry, pretending he didn’t wish for romantic partnership. Anatole wasn’t out there refusing such connection because he thought deep down, he was doomed to repeat terrible relationship patterns. 

It didn’t matter most people in his family had had good, healthy relationships. His parents, his actual parents, Florentino’s Cousin and Mircea’s brother, had been a dumpster fire waiting for an explosion to befall on them, and he was their son. What if nature won over nurture? He didn’t want to find out. Anatole wasn’t like him in that regard… or was he? Was he like himself and his father who feared good things would elude them and therefore found a way to cope about it? Could it be that Anatole’s way to cope was hope? Was it trying no matter the stakes? Was pulling himself up with an inner strength and clarity Valerius had seldom seen in anyone?

Anatole couldn’t be that way. If the Gods, whomever those were, had to spare someone of that, it would have to be his nephew, right?

Two hours passed and Valerius decided to put the book he had picked up where he had found it. After confirming Aelius had not come back to the Palace, he retired to his home, deciding to walk the way between the Palace and the Palazzo, with Anatole still on his mind. His brother and his sister-in-law would not be happy when Valerius returned on his own with no idea of what it had been of Anatole but a highly probable guess.

Still, a highly probably guess was the same of no guess at all when it came to worried parents. 

“What do you think of it?” He asked them as they waited. 

His brother’s eyes furrowed in concentration in the same way Anatole’s did. “I think,” Vlad said, “he’s old enough to know what he’s doing, Valeriy.” 

“So you’re not worried?”

Vlad snorted. “Oh, I’m worried sick, alright. There’s an epidemic outside, but I also know that Anatole never does things without a reason, even when he’s being impulsive.” 

“Now, I wouldn’t call him impulsive. Foolish, perhaps.”

“Hey!” Louisa said, throwing a dressing pillow to Valerius. She was the only one who could ever get away with such an act. “My son is not a fool.”

“Running after Leon is a foolish reason.”

“Wasn’t Leon the musician, friend of your friend?”

“He is. You met him for Anatole’s last birthday.”

“The one Nemesi said he didn’t know Toly liked them older, wicked sense of humour, wore a very pretty dress?” 

“That one, yes.” 

Vlad and Louisa looked at each other, the former grimacing, the latter sighing. Louisa spoke first. “Val, darling, go to bed, I think this is one of those matters Anatole will have to sort out on his own. Don’t be too hard on him, he’s going through a lot. I am worried about him, but I’m more worried about him having a nervous episode than anything else. And if you’re worried about his safety, do remember Anatole has your temper and a wonderful proclivity to make people trapped into situations with him that they will later regret.”

“I can’t understand how you can be so resigned.” 

Louisa shrugged. “I’ve been in dangerous situations per my own choosing, and I was exiled for it, and you know this. I am worried but I also trust my son’s capacities. Let’s just say I understand Anatole in a way you two could never do, just like there are certain things about him you two understand in a way I’ll never be able to, as well.

“I will never be able to understand his particular brand of intensity, as much as I love it, respect it, cherish it and find it enlightening, and you will never be able to understand what it’s like to risk your life for that which you love in the same way I will.” 

“Two words, Lulu, dearling, Balkovian and war.” 

“I think she’s right Valeriy.”

“Of course you side with your wife.”

“Idiot,” Vlad said as he kicked his brother’s foot, “Balkovia is different, and you weren’t there in the war anyway, your duties as the Consul called you too son, and in my case, it’s not love for the place, per se, which made me stay. I am proud of how everything turned out all things considered, and I am really fucking done with the Federation every day of my life nonetheless, and I don’t want to do anything with its politics. I do my job for the people I think are less terrible than the other, and that’s it. You know how Anatole feels about this City. My son could fucking bleed himself dry for it if no one stopped him, and you know it.”

“This City isn’t worth it. Don’t give me that look, Consul Cassano my ass. It isn’t… and neither is Leon.”

“Is Jamil?”

“Vladislav, I am warning you.”

“What I’m saying, you temperamental idiot, is that we measure what we love in different ways that don’t always make sense for the people who don’t love them.” 

“How is that supposed to be soothing? How is that supposed to not worry me? Anatole deserves better.” 

Vlad stood up, looking down at his brother with exasperation, using every inch over him that he had in his advantage. “Maybe he does, but I don’t know Leon. I do know how it feels to be judged by people higher and mightier than you solely because of an accident of circumstance — and so should you Valeriy. That you act like it doesn’t mean Jamil’s mother—“ 

“Say one more word, Vladislav, I dare you.” 

“Oh, do you?” 

“That is enough!” Louisa’s voice rang through the parlour. “We’ve never micromanaged our son, we’re not about to start now. Vlad, we should go to bed, your brother can do as he pleases. Or at least, we should wait for Anatole somewhere where he won’t find you too arguing about him, because if you make my son feel guilty I won’t speak to either of you for a week.” 

Both of them dropped it. One was married to Louisa, the other had known her for years and was one of the few people who got to see the full extent of who Valerius was. His sister in law had been nothing but supportive throughout all his time knowing her, many times being a comforting presence with her witty commentary about what to do with politicians and Courtiers Valerius didn’t like. Fighting with her was tempting because right now he would fight with anyone, but it was a stupid move. 

The truth was Louisa was right — not that he would admit it right now. The only physical place Valerius had ever been happy in was the Radošević Vineyard in one of the Balkovian peninsulas. His relationship with Vesuvia was complicated at best, obligatory at worst and when it came to musicians who brought with them their adventures of the world and easy laugh, and very warm feelings maybe they weren’t so different, after all. 

Anatole arrived well into the night, still crying. Trying to make the least fuss possible, he tried to get to his bedroom through the Consul’s home office and then the library. Valeriy never used that office anyway, so there was no reason for him to be there, or anyone at all. Yet, because his luck couldn’t get any worse, he was there, sitting on the desk, skimming over a book he closed shut with unnecessary force when Anatole made it through the door. Of course his uncle was angry with him.

“Listen—”

“What on earth were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, Valeriy.”

“You clearly weren’t. You left me stranded in a meeting, which you left running, after talking back at me as if I were what.”

“You’re not going to tell me off for snapping at the Count?”

“Ostentatious of you to assume I care what happens to him.”

They both held each other’s gaze. Anatole’s eyes were puffy, his nose was red with cold. It was so obvious his nephew had cried all the way back from City Centre. Valerius sighed, he found it really, really hard to be the Consul when Anatole would always be his nephew. 

“But more importantly,” he said, his voice softer as he left the book aside and came down from the desk, “you worried me sick. Aelius what was that?”

The dam broke. Anatole’s lip trembled as he tried to speak but instead of words, tears and crying overtook him. He cried with silent sobs, trying not to make a sound at all, as if it would all go away if he was quiet enough. It reminded him of himself, it reminded him of his older brother. Perhaps he had been correct and they weren’t so different after all. 

“Oh, come here, just don’t stain my shirt.”

“I come from outside.”

“I don’t care.”

“Valeriy—”

“I said I didn’t care.”

Anatole gave in and hugged his uncle, who was well aware his nephew was passing his mid-twenties, but crying in his arms it was like Anatole was 10 again and asking why did he have to be so weird. 

“My foolish, wonderful nephew.” 

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, no you’re not, and in any case, you’re not a fool much different than myself… How was—” no, he couldn’t ask about him. Instead, he sighed into his nephew’s hair. “Why don’t we go let your parents know you’re home alright?”

“Alright,” Anatole sniffled. “Were my notes okay for the meeting?”

“They were spectacular, they always are,” Valerius was’t lying. “Now, no more work, let’s go find my brother and your mother.”

[just-honey-dewd]

Angel’s comic commentary

Finally read the comic, and I've got a handful of things to say. This’ll mostly just be me listing out what this comic's canonically established alongside quite a bit of speculation. Feel free to update me on information here that's faulty. 

Obvious spoilers ahead if you haven’t read it.

1. Angel and Val's relationship

It's established that Val is his boss and asserts that dominance on Angel in a very intense and toxic way. Comparable to a drunk abusive dad using his "gentle voice" on his son before erupting into terrifying fits of rage and almost resorting physical abuse -- only holding back because he doesn't want any evidence of abuse. Or in this context, he doesn't want his cash cow to risk any pointless bruising.

”Um.... I overheard you at the studio talking about how you didn’t have anyone to handle this deal.... with.... I mean.... Just thought it was an easy gig... I knew I could take em’ out easy and even scored ya both.”                                                                                -  Angel Dust

Angel seems to take initiative when it comes to handling mobsters and essentially meddling in Val's affairs. I speculate that this could be attributed to his background as a skilled mobster, as well as a desire to prove his worth in more ways than one. Not because he wants to suck up to his boss though. Rather, it seems like underlying self-worth issues coming into play.  

Angel clearly has a lot of baggage with his past as a mobster, his rocky relationship with his family -- alongside heavily speculation of abuse from his dad and brother -- and a lack of healthy outlet. Which is why he's acting out and disobeying Val -- going out of his way to help him with jobs he's not even hired to do. Because before Cherri or the hotel, Angel went into the sex industry and "proved his worth" by being the most popular porn star in hell. But given the nature of abusive bosses, Val never treated Angel with genuine respect, only preserving him from danger which would probably feel patronizing to a person who could competently hold his own in battle. So Angel's next motive is to prove he can do more than just suck people's dicks to Val so he can earn his respect.

The relationship's basically a one-sided give and take affair. Angel gives, Val takes. All because Angel's misguided head feels he just needs to prove himself to people to earn a right.

2. Popular, but not "popular"

Angel is popular for his work, but the work itself is not generally respected in hell -- or at least in the capital. 

This is evident in the pilot, and only gets further supported with the comic, as demons out in the street don't immediately walk up to him asking to do it with him. It seems he even gets recognized but glared at by some demons. It's surprisingly similar to the way general society looks at porn stars or strippers. Katie verbally shamed Tom for knowing who AD was, the guy Angel was with early in the pilot called him a slut, same was the other guy that stole his drugs, and Angel's punishment from Val was to stand out in the city streets and "make up for the time he missed filming".

Basically, Angel is popular, but not respected as a celebrity porn star -- he honestly stands out as a misfit most would look down on. Whether it’s more because of the nature of his profession, or hell’s lack of respect for anyone without a knife to their throat, is really anyone’s guess. I personally subscribe to the notion that it’s mainly the former, followed by latter.

So overall, this: 

i)  Further connects hell's civilization with ours in the aspect of how occupations/titles define reputation, and value to society.

ii)  Confirms that Angel is famous but in not in the positively well-received sense.

iii)  Confirms that the porn industry is a big thing in hell, but majority of the population won't acknowledge it's popularity or influence if they don't have to. Likely because of the risk of their reputation rather than any ethical dilemmas.

3. Angel's Payment Policy

He tells Charlie that his time costs money, and she agrees to it. But near the end of the comic, Angel almost walks out of the conversation without money, until Charlie drops him a wad of cash. So the payment policy is kinda loose depending on if whatever the time was spent on was interesting and worth it. Charlie and Vaggie literally gave him an epiphany by telling him that they believe redemption could be a possibility and that they (Charlie) see the potential for him to change. Pretty heavy stuff, so the payment was paid by Angel's interest itself. ̶C̶h̶a̶r̶l̶i̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶u̶n̶n̶e̶c̶e̶s̶s̶a̶r̶y̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶m̶i̶s̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶s̶i̶m̶p̶l̶y̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶a̶d̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶o̶n̶u̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶e̶g̶r̶i̶t̶y̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶i̶n̶c̶e̶n̶t̶i̶v̶e̶.̶

4. Charlie's character

Charlie doesn't have a filter and doesn't know how to phrase things sensitively on the spot. For someone who refers to swearing as "problematic language", she doesn't know how not to come off as rude or offensive ironically -- "Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow" is a testament to that. 

Her conversation with Angel in the comic cements this as an intentional and integral part of her character. It's probably gonna become a reoccurring gag, source of conflict for the hotel, and/or a common source of entertainment for Alastor.

Additionally, she's a very physically affectionate person. Although already evident with multiple scenes from the pilot, the comic provides consistent show of it with the little head bump and cuddle with Vaggie, and that gentle hand on Angel's chest fluff. Fitting for the Disney Princess aspect of her personality.

5. Why did Angel agree to become a patron?

Because of his desire to prove his worth and value. He enjoyed screwing with the girls, but otherwise seemed indifferent about the redemption plan -- as anyone would. Only reason he ultimately decided to join was because Vaggie insisted on Charlie that he's not worth the effort, and he wanted to prove her wrong. It's a manipulative tactic to use someone's broken ego against them to get them to do what you want -- but in here, it was unintentional. Angel's insecurity of being seen as worthless took effect in his impulsive decision, not to mention that they made it clear as day that Charlie saw potential -- and by extension, worth -- to him. Vaggie represents the rational but blunt naysayers in his life that don't see shit in him, and Angel was determined to finally prove to them -- and himself -- that he's worth something. Worth the effort. Worth an ounce of respect. Worth helping.

And it's evident in the last 2 pages of the comic, that he's spent time reflecting on Charlie's words to him all the way home. Does he believe in her cause?  No. Is she serious? Who knows.  Does he have what it takes to be a good person? Not by a long shot!

But she saw something in him, something beyond the reputation and value predetermined for him on Earth, beyond the reputation he established in Hell even. For someone like her to exist in such a cruel and harsh reality and tell him she believes there's more to him than what he knows.... with those odds, it makes the redemption concept itself just a little less implausible. It's silly, that's for sure.

[weshallc]

Bonfire Night

If anyone has ever wondered why I don’t do prompts, this is it. I thought I will just write a wee Paddy and Bernie thing for November 5th. It is now November 11th and there are so many stories left to tell. In writing the closing chapter, I realized I would like to tell each regular’s 2020 story from their point of view (now there’s a novelty for me, pov) they might not be long chapters, consider them selfies.

Thanks to @roguesnitch who keeps me authentic and @lovetheturners who reminds me what a pov is and how to write proper.

CHAPTER THREE: THE HAPPY LIGHT

And all the words are brighter. In the happy light of closing time. Cover from the Skys by Deacon Blue

She took a moment to look around while pumping the pedal with her right foot until the newly filled container dripped gel on demand. Absentmindedly Valerie Dyer rubbed the sanitizer into her hands. Fingers, palms, backs, nails and don't forget the thumbs. 

It was still the Crown, but it looked like the Crown playing dress-up. The plastic dividers, the bottles of gel on the tables, the boxes of masks behind the bar. The awful visors Tom the Vicar had made, the ones Paddy made her wear if it got busy. As much as she hated all the new restrictions, she had loved being back at work. 

It had been odd at first; they had all been nervous, desperate to get things right. Wanting to protect themselves, their customers and each other. Thankfully, she hadn’t been stuck at home the whole 100 days of Lockdown. Paddy and Fred had made door-step brewery deliveries and Vi had prepared take-away meals. She had wanted to help out more, but Paddy had put her and Jack on furlough, so legally they weren’t allowed to work. When Mount Busby, the Crown and St Presurvus, the Holy Trinity of Poplar-on-Tweaven started making up and distributing food and essentials parcels she was first to volunteer. 

Paddy had wanted to furlough Vi, but she had refused when she realized she wouldn’t be able to work. Everyone knew Vi wasn’t short of a bob or two. Her husband had made a good living in the chemical industry, like a lot of the men on Tweavenside and like a lot of the men on Tweavenside he ended that good life with Tweavenside Lung. Asbestosis or mesothelioma was what the doctors put on the death certificates. The companies had eventually accepted responsibility after a long, weary fight. Why is there always a long, weary fight? There was now a generation of women on Tweavenside that would never want again apart from a pair of familiar arms around them at night.

When hospitality opened back up in the summer she had felt ridiculously excited. If she poured herself a shot every time a well meaning busy body had told her she should get a proper job, she would never find her way home. The truth was she loved her job, she would never admit it to anyone, especially not Paddy. She was good at it and everyone knew it; it didn’t pay a lot, but she got by. Maybe that was the problem; if she really needed the money, she may have been motivated to find something else.

The money she earned at the Crown was her own, apart from what she gave to her gran for her board and lodge. Which eventually would find its way back to Val, by some devious means. It had always been just her and her gran, for almost as long as she could remember. Her grandmother had been a mother to her and now they were more like mates, to be honest. Until 2020. Until this stupid virus. Until this year from Hell. Now she was the one most like a mother. 

Gran was told she needed to shield because of her age and a complexity of medical conditions. There was no way in the two-bed semi Elsie and Val shared they could achieve this, with only one bathroom and living room. 

That night in March, the Crown hierarchy had been sitting for a while at the bar mulling over the news. Just Val, Paddy and Bernie. Trying to decipher the implications of this new vocabulary; lockdown, furlough, shielding. 

Even after all this time, Paddy still possessed the ability to surprise her. Amid his own confusion following being presented with probably the worst news to threaten his world since receiving Marianne’s diagnosis, he had thought of her.

“You can move into the Crown, Val.” He said it without looking at her, it was so nonchalant she nearly missed it. ”Bernie can add your gran to her rounds, keep an eye on her.” He was not looking at Bernie either, who however, did look at Val.

Val was very rarely stuck for words, especially in response to her boss, but this was a first. Fortunately Bernie had a clear head more used to the single malt they were nursing than her companions.

“I could add your gran to the list of vulnerable we are starting to accumulate,” Bernie answered in her I will talk to Paddy later voice. ”No charge of course and you could come with me.”

Val’s head was spinning. She loved her gran and needed to protect her, but this was all happening so fast. She also loved the Crown, but do I want to live here, with the Turners?

“Obviously, you will need time to think about this and talk it over with Elsie.” Bloody Hell, Bernie was good at this, Phyllis had trained her well. 

Paddy who had started the confusion had drifted off somewhat and was doing that thing Val always noticed in her punters. She noticed the stood-up, the ones not wanting to go home, and the ones who had no-one to go home to. They picked up a beer mat, put it on its side and rhythmically turned it over and over one edge at a time. Val was starting to uncharacteristically panic, as Paddy characteristically brooded. 

Then everything changed, everything became clear, there was a path, a purpose, things started to make some kind of sense. Bernie spoke.

“Of course, we don’t really expect you to move into the Crown,” Bernie said, emphasizing the we. “You can have my cottage, because obviously I will be moving into the Crown, to be with Paddy and Tim.”

Val didn’t know if it was herself or Paddy who chocked first on their dram.

[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary - Chapter 8

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: A mysterious device throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Pentagram City’s residents are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Abuse, Kidnapping Attempt, Non-Consensual Touching Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

The walk to Valentino’s office… or… headquarters… or lair… or whatever you wanted to call it was uncomfortable at best. Angel guided you through the streets of Pentagram City, making sure to deviate from the main roads by taking back alleys and seedy shortcuts to ensure that you remained unnoticed by Hell’s residents. You were afraid to ask how he knew about the obscure alternate routes, but considering his profession, which you had learned was an adult film star who alternated as a hooker, you supposed that he would be well-versed in that sort of thing. 

“Listen, toots. If anyone asks, I didn’t set this up. Got it?” the spider demon urged, hustling down the alley.

“Why would that matter?”

“Because!” he snapped, slowing down so that you could keep up with his long legs. “I don’t wanna be the one who catches shit when the little princess realizes you snuck out right from under her nose. And I especially don’t wanna take the blame when Smiles discovers you’re gone.”

“What difference does it make if Alastor finds out?” you asked, perplexed. “I mean, I can understand Charlie. She’s giving you free housing, and you’re already on thin ice with Vaggie, but Alastor doesn’t have anything to do with you being there.”

He cackled maliciously. “Babe, you really are too much. Whether you wanna admit it or not, Smiles is obsessed with you. If he finds out that I took you to Big Vee, someone he’s not too fond of, I might add, he’ll probably eat me - and not in the way I’d like him to,” he added, grinning salaciously.

Much to your horror, you then began approaching a building with the words Porn Studios plastered on the front in bright red letters.

“Val… works in the porn industry?” you inquired, a hint of contempt in your voice.

“It’s a thriving business, baby. If you were looking for a ‘respectable’ establishment, you ain’t gonna find one a those in Hell. Get used to it.”

The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Valentino ran Hell’s gritty underbelly, and if he was in charge of the porn and prostitution industries, surely he was in a place of power.

When you reached the empty lobby inside, Angel motioned for you to sit in one of the chairs. “I’ll go an’ let him know you’re here. Sit tight.”

The moment he disappeared through one of the doors, a slight sense of dread fell over you, causing you to stir uncomfortably in your seat. Wringing your hands nervously, your thoughts began to wander. Did you just make a huge mistake? Should you have put your trust in Angel? Why didn’t anyone else mention Valentino as a trusted source before? 

It was too much. You shouldn’t have gone there. A feeling in your gut was telling you to run and avoid this place at all costs.

Just as you had gotten up to leave, Angel came back through the doors. “He’s ready for you, toots. Come on back.”

“Angel… I--” you started to protest before he cut you off.

“You wanted answers, didn’t chya? He’s not known for his patience, babe. Come on, let’s go.”

Against your better judgement, you followed him back, swallowing thickly and trying to keep your nerves steady.

As you approached a large wooden door, Angel knocked twice before holding the door open for you. Hesitantly, you walked past him into a large office with tacky decor. Risque pictures lined the dark purple walls and a giant furry pink couch sat in the corner. Beneath your feet was a zebra-skin rug, which you were sure had been an inhabitant of Hell at one point.

At the very end of the room was a large and intimidating desk with a tall chair behind it that was faced away from you. Once you were just a few feet away, the chair swiveled, revealing a red-eyed demon adorned with a fancy flush coat and heart-shaped glasses. His outfit made him seem much less sinister than you were sure he probably was.

“Well, what do we have here?” he hissed, cracking a fanged smile. “Angie, when you told me that you were bringing me a living human, you didn’t say that she’d be so… delicious.”

Angel chuckled awkwardly, brushing past you to stand closer to Valentino.

“Don’t be shy, sugar. Come a little closer to Daddy and let me get a good look at you.”

Struggling to hide your grimace, you took a few more steps forward. Feeling his eyes scanning your form, you crossed your arms defensively, as if trying to physically hold yourself together.

The demon hummed thoughtfully before he stood up from his chair, gliding smoothly around his desk before he stopped directly in front of you.

Holy shit. He was tall. Even taller than Angel.

Pursing his lips, he circled you, inspecting you like a vulture honing in on its prey. Eventually, he stopped in front of you before demanding, “Sit still for me, sugar.”

He then placed a large hand over your chest, not in a sexual way, but as if he was trying to feel your heartbeat. Closing his eyes for a moment, you felt a strange tingling sensation where his hand was only briefly before he pulled it away with a smile plastered on his face.

Stepping away from you, he leaned back on his desk in a casual position before addressing you. “So, my little worker bee here tells me that you’re looking for some insight. That right?”

Unable to speak, you nodded your head.

“Walk me through what happened. Give Daddy all the intricate little details, baby. Don’t leave anything out.”

You wrinkled your nose as his use of the word daddy. It was incredibly off putting and didn’t at all appeal to you, but you went along with it anyway.

Clearing your throat, you started to speak, your voice shaking. “W-well… I-I was out shopping with my friends, and I saw a television that was a few decades old… probably from the seventies, at least. The remote control was next to the t.v. I picked it up, turned it on, and suddenly I was thrust into this place. That’s all I can remember.”

“Hmm,” he hummed aloud, tapping his index finger on his chin. “How very peculiar.”

“Whadya thinkin’, Val?” Angel Dust pressed, just as intrigued.

“Angie, baby… why don’t you run and get Vox. I’m sure he’d be interested to hear this little human’s story.”

“Y-you sure, boss?” Angel asked, hesitating.

Valentino narrowed his eyes at the spider. “Are you really going to waste my time with stupid questions?”

“But… you said this would be discreet-”

SLAP

You winced as Valentino backhanded Angel Dust, causing the spider to stumble back, holding his now tender cheek with a shocked expression on his face.

“Remember your place and do as you’re fucking told,” the demon snarled, baring his teeth at his inferior. “Now.”

Frowning, Angel Dust gave you a subtly apologetic glance before sauntering out of the room, leaving you alone with the pimp.

Even though you were genuinely upset at how Valentino treated Angel, you couldn’t bring yourself to act on your anger. When you had lost your cool with Lucifer, it was different because you were surrounded by Charlie and Alastor and you had the luxury of voicing your outrage, as foolish as it may have been. In your current predicament, however, you were utterly alone and at the mercy of Valentino. Clearly, you were out of your league. 

“Um,” you stammered, practically trembling where you stood and wanting to ease the quiet tension. “Wh-who is Vox?”

“He’s an associate of mine,” the demon purred. “Something tells me that he’ll be able to enlighten us to your little predicament.”

“Really?” you pressed, partially intrigued, partially terrified. “Why do you say that?”

Before he could respond, another voice could be heard approaching. “Seriously, Val? You’re gonna send your whore to fetch me like I’m some kind of bitch who’s at your beck and call? You can’t just-- oh.”

The new demon froze as he entered the room and laid eyes on you. The sight of him was just as alarming to you as you had been to him. Rather than a zoomorphic creature, it was like he was a cross between a human and a television set. He was about as tall as Alastor, sporting a striped tuxedo with a black and red striped shirt underneath. His red bowtie prominently stood out in comparison to grey undershirt.

On top of his flat-screen t.v. head, he had a black top hat with sound waves etched into it. His eyes were red with one of them containing black rings around the pupil. His entire appearance was unsettling to say the least. 

“And who do we have here?” Vox asked, his tone immediately changing from irritated to seductive.

You hadn’t realized that Valentino had moved next to you while you were distracted by Vox’s entrance. He entangled one of his fingers into a strand of your hair, twirling it around his lengthy digit, causing you to flinch. “This is the human that we’ve been hearing about all over the Seven Rings,” Val whispered close to your ear. “She has quite an interesting story. Why don’t you be a doll and tell my associate here what happened to you, sugar?”

Inhaling a shaky breath, you repeated your story about the television set. As you spoke, Vox’s eyes widened in shock as he exchanged glances with Valentino who had a menacing smirk on his face. As you finished your story, Vox had a similar expression to Val as he eyed you hungrily.

“Excuse us for a moment, won’t you, baby? Daddy’s gotta have a little chat,” Val snickered as he pulled Vox aside and stepped into the room adjacent to the one you were in.

You briefly wondered what had happened to Angel Dust until their whispers brought your attention back to them. Unable to stop yourself, you stepped closer to the doorway, listening in on their conversation. It was difficult to make out anything that they were saying, but you caught certain things here and there.

“...didn’t think that it would actually work! By the time I heard that there was a human…”

“...exactly what we wanted. What’s even better is that she came to us…” 

“...not going to go quietly. Her little friends at that rancid hotel…” 

“...just do it. We’ve waited too long for this…”

From what you had heard, you weren’t at all liking where this was going. Everything inside of you was telling you to run.

Just as you were looking for an escape, the demons came back into the room with venomous grins on their faces. “Going somewhere?” Vox asked, interpreting your actions.

“I-I need to get back. The others will be looking for me soon, and I--”

“Now, now,” Valentino cooed as he towered over you, running a finger down your arm. “You just got here. It would be rude to leave so soon.”

All of the courage that you had gathered over your time in hell had immediately dissipated. There was no way that you could overpower two demons. It was clear that you were at their mercy. “Please…” you begged, still looking for an exit. “I was just looking for a way home. I didn’t mean--”

“Don’t worry, fleshling,” Vox soothed with false sweetness as he also caressed your face, giving you unwanted chills. “We’re going to get you home. But first… we’re going to have a little fun with you.”

“W-what do you mean by fun ?” you asked, not really wanting to hear the answer, but trying to buy time until you could come up with a crafty escape.

“Oh, don’t you worry, sugar. We’re going to take good care of you,” the moth demon purred as he continued to fondle your clothes. “You’re ours now.”

“You know, I do really hate those who can’t show a little more respect to those of fairer means,” a familiar voice interrupted.

Relief washed over you like a tidal wave. Never did you think that you would be so relieved to hear that eerie static-filled voice.

Valentino and Vox immediately went rigid, but kept their hands where they were on your body. “It’s rather distasteful,” the Radio Demon continued, emerging from the shadows. His eyes were radiating a crimson glow and his smile was even more malevolent than you had seen it in the past. “Like bad meat.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Alastor’s antlers seemed to lengthen in height and width. The dark circles under his eyes appeared once more and his pupils turned to dials as his teeth elongated to emphasize his already terrifying grin. “If you would, kindly remove your hands from her.”

“No one asked you to intervene, Bullwinkle,” Vox snapped, tightening his grip on your arm.

“What?” Valentino asked, suddenly distracting and quirking a brow at his cohort. “Bullwinkle is a fucking moose.”

“So what? They both have antlers,” Vox countered, shrugging. “Who fucking cares?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt what I’m sure would be a fascinating lover’s quarrel,” Alastor teased, earning a growl from the other demons, “But I really must be on my way.”

“No one’s stopping you!” Vox pointed out, baring his electric blue teeth. “But you’re not taking the fleshling with you.”

“If you refuse to relinquish the human to me, I’m afraid I’ll have to take a more aggressive approach. I’m sure no one wants that,” Alastor remarked, tilting his head mockingly, his frightening appearance still in place.

“You really want to threaten us?” Valentino questioned with a chuckle, his eyes flashing from behind his heart-shaped glasses. “We’ll annihilate you.”

“Oh, ho, ho,” Alastor laughed, straightening his monocle. “As much as I would enjoy proving you wrong, I’m afraid you’re confused. You see, I’m here to ensure that the human remains safe before she is claimed by Lucifer. He has very specific plans for her, and, as I’m sure you can imagine, he won’t be thrilled if he finds out his prized possession is being held hostage in this… fine establishment,” he sneered at the last part of his statement.

The two demons exchanged worried glances with one another, hesitating before speaking. “Lucifer wants her?” Vox pressed, eyes darting between you and his partner-in-crime.

“That’s correct,” Alastor replied, not bothering to mask the smug undertone. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell the King of Hell that his shiny new toy is being soiled by two clueless brutes. Would you?”

“Fuck,” Valentino grumbled before gripping your shoulders and thrusting you back into Alastor, where you landed harshly aganst his chest. His arms immediately wrapped around you, his clawed fingers digging into your shoulders posessively. 

Vox glared at Val with disbelief as he stammered, “You’re just handing her over?! She’s the key--”

“Shut the fuck up, Vox,” Valentino snarled, narrowing his eyes and giving him a subtle, unspoken warning. “It’s not the last we’ll see of her.”

Fuming, Vox remained silent as his eyes flashed at Alastor. Valentino then bent down, his eyes boring into yours as he whispered, “We’ll see you soon, sugar.” Sitting up, his lip curled as he addressed Alastor once more.  “Now get out.”

With a flick of one of his ears and no other words exchanged, Alastor relinquished his hold on you and escorted you out, moving so quickly that you had to practically run in order to keep up with him. 

“Alastor,” you addressed him breathlessly, “Just… wait a minute--”

“Not here, darling,” he urged, still moving with urgent haste.

After nearly fifteen minutes of power walking, you had reached the hotel. The moment the door shut behind you in the lobby, you glared at the Radio Demon while struggling to catch your breath. After a few moments of tension, you asked, “Is that really what you think of me? A ‘shiny new toy’ for Lucifer’s entertainment?”

Alastor, who had returned to his far less threatening appearance, simply smirked while twirling his hand and summoning his microphone before leaning on it casually. “No, sweetheart. That’s not all I really think of you.”

“What the fuck, Alastor,” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself. “You’re a god damned enigma! Is this how you get your rocks off? You tormented me when I first got here by making not-so-subtle threats and touching me constantly like a weirdo. Then you suddenly became nice and supportive, and after Lucifer, it  seemed like you were actually going to help me, only to then make it seem like you’re just biding time until you can hand me over to him! What’s your game?! Is this how you drive your prey crazy before you slaughter them? Why are you such a creepy bastard?! What did I ever do to you to deserve these mind games?!”

Yikes. You didn’t mean to let all of that spill out at once, but you couldn’t help yourself. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. What’s worse was that during your rant, Alastor just gawked at you, seemingly unfazed. If anything, he was entertained, which only made you more upset.

After a few seconds of silence and him just staring at you with an amused expression, you emphasized, “Well?! Answer me!”

He then sat up straight, making his microphone disappear into a cloud of smoke before approaching you. Just as you were about to snap at him again, his long arm circled around your waist, pulling you close while cupping your face with his hand, running his thumb along your cheek. Before you could comprehend what was happening, his lips were on yours, moving against you in a deep and sensual kiss, making you forget the world around you.

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88 @utterly-disappointing @opheliuva @trinswhimsys @skylarhedges @whogavebrynjolfpermissiontobehot @sailor-earth-1

[occasionalfics]

touch every star (5)

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ao3 | previous | next

Pairing: Thor X Cinderella!Reader AU

A/N: How you do creatively conduct a Cinderella Search in a MCU AU fanfic? You’re about to find out.

Warnings: Lots of angst, a really, really shitty boss, but overall this is probably the most pure fic I’ve ever written? SITWELL IS TERRIBLE HERE, AND USES EXCESSIVE LANGUAGE IN THIS CHAPTER.

Words: 3,225

//

To: [ALL:SI.ORG]

From: todinson@security.si.org

Hello. Hope all is well.

I’m Thor, Director of Security, and I’m writing today to try to find someone. We met in an elevator, and again at the holiday gala, but never managed to exchange names or information. But I have your mask from the gala, and I was wondering if you might be able to stop by the Security offices (#2045) to pick it up.

If not, please respond via this email or a call to my assistant and we can arrange a meeting elsewhere. I ask that you simply describe the mask to me before I hand it over.

Thank you, and best wishes.

Thor Odinson

Director of Security

212-555-4390

todinson@security.si.org

It was the most bizarre email she’d ever read. Maybe she thought so because she knew it was meant for her, but even so, it was still...odd. A little clunky, especially coming from a Director of one of the - if not the - most important departments in the building. She had to stop herself from rewriting it to send back to Thor like she might with Sitwell’s emails to other directors.

After all, that was the only opportunity she ever got around the Accounting department to put her Public Relations degree to use.

Thor Odinson. Director of Security. A busy, important man who was, indeed, way out of her league, had her mask. A man she didn’t know, wouldn’t know, and had already decided not to respond to. Immediately after reading the email, she knew she was never getting that mask back, but she supposed it was for the better.

She’d never be wearing it again anyway. Let someone else claim it, if they could accurately describe it. 

Let someone else get the guy that’s too handsome, too funny, too good for you while you’re at it. 

Her head spoke but her heart yelled. Her chest had been so tight since that chat with Nat and Wanda that it hurt, but she knew things had to be this way. She was not going to strive for someone that never left his office, never asked for her name, and probably never would’ve even looked her way if they hadn’t been the last two people in the building that night.

She was just a secretary - an extremely busy one, once again - and he was friends with Tony Stark.

An incredibly handsome executive director friend of Billionaire Tony Stark - which, she remembered from their discussion of bosses from the night in the elevator, meant that he also worked for Tony Stark. Forgetting about leagues, they weren’t even on the same level, just the same floor.

She could just imagine what her coworkers - and even Sitwell himself - might say if she...dated someone that much higher than her in the company. She’d seen it happen before, with a well meaning Accountant that should’ve been left alone to do as she pleased, and some agent or something from a few floors up. No one shut up about them for weeks; she’d heard the nastiest things about them in bathrooms and break rooms, and Y/N was not about to willingly face the same fate.

She was so convinced of this avoidance plan until Nat texted her. Apparently, Nat’s new beaux was in on the whole ordeal - or at least that was the only way Y/N could imagine that Nat would know about the email. When she told Nat she wasn’t going to respond, despite saying  that she would, the texts turned threatening.

Nat: IS2G IF YOU DON’T GET UR ASS IN THERE AND GET UR MAN I’LL HAVE BUCKY COME DOWN THERE AND DEADASS CARRY YOU TO THE SECURITY OFFICE!!!

Y/N knew that, while Nat was her friend and respected her time and space, she also wasn’t lying. She’d do whatever she could to make this meeting happen, even though Y/N was starting to read the signs that all pointed in the opposite direction. Maybe all they were meant to have was two meetings by chance, and then resume their normal lives. Maybe she was supposed to lose her mask and move on.

Y/N: Nat, i can’t. I’m sure there’s a clause in my contract about interoffice dating or something.

As soon as she wrote it - let alone sent it - she knew it was an excuse. And not even a good one at that. But the shaky feeling in her heart kept her from doing anything about it.

Nat: he doesn’t even work in the same office as you, Y/N! You know who he is and where he is now - GO. TALK. TO. HIM.

She looked up from her desk at the offices across the hall. Security was around the corner, so she couldn’t actually see him from there, but she knew he wasn’t far. His email had made it sound like he’d be in there all day, every day until she came to find her mask. 

It would be so easy…

But then her eyes traveled to the list of chores Sitwell had given her today, and she shook her head. Maybe on her lunch break, if she even managed to take one, she’d head down the hall and try to explain the situation to him. Maybe he’d give the mask back, agree that they shouldn’t see each other again, and move on with his life.

All she had to do was ignore the pit in her stomach at the thought that he might forget about her and she’d be fine.

---

She left a note on her desk that said she was going to pick up lunch, but it was a total farce. As far as she can remember, she’s never lied to Sitwell before, but she doesn’t feel so bad doing it now. He’s done more to deserve it than she can remember.

Without looking to see if Sitwell had noticed her absence, she left the office and started around the corner. Her feet felt heavy, but she moved forward anyway. She had to. If she didn’t do this, Nat would get it done for her, and she didn’t like that idea. Even if she felt like she would never match up to Thor, she wanted to be the one to say so.

She owed herself that much, at least.

She came around the final corner and nearly slammed into a woman she’d never seen before. Stopping short, Y/N caught her breath and looked around the woman, only to find a long, boisterous line of other women leading into the security office at the end of the hall.

She tapped the woman she’d almost run into on the shoulder and asked, “Uh, excuse me, but what is this?” If something in the building was wrong, she needed to know. It did mean she’d have to go talk to Sitwell, but at least she’d have a decent reason to.

The woman just barely glanced at her, but she sounded excited when she said, “The director of security’s searching for a mystery woman! Everyone’s taking their turn trying to win him over because he’s very hot.”

Y/N’s face heated. She almost wished something was wrong. She knew she had nothing to be ashamed of and yet, there she was, unsure of what to say next to this woman, or any of the other women in line, truthfully. Somehow they all thought they had a chance of getting her mask, of talking to Thor and making moves and suddenly, as she glared down the long line of women again, she felt…

Unstable? Unsure?

No. No, what was creeping up her neck and along her arms was 100% insecurity. She had no idea who those women were or what their claims to Thor might be, if they had any, but she couldn’t possibly stack up against all of them. And she’d never make it to his office before her lunch break was over. Waiting was pointless, especially since she really didn’t need the mask anyway.

A thought occurred to her then: who’s to say that he had her mask? He’d asked for the mask to be described to him, and just because she’d lost the metal mask she’d worn that night didn’t mean Thor had picked it up and been saving it since then. Her mask could be anywhere, and she could be standing in line only to be made a fool if the one he has belongs to any of these other women.

Nat would be disappointed in her. Wanda, too. But that didn’t stop the fear and crushing weight of the line of women in front of her from making her feet turn and take her back to her office, where she crumpled her note, threw it away, held her head low for the rest of the afternoon.

---

“Val, please hold the line,” he said over the intercom. His assistant didn’t even answer, just held a thumb up to him through the glass walls of the office before she turned to the first woman in the...very...very long line and gave her instructions.

Thor was tired. All day, he’d been dealing with women hellbent on getting the mask. Or, as Val had suggested after reading his email blast, getting him. All day, he’d been turning women away, sighing as he thought of the mask locked in the bottom drawer of his desk. Between meetings with these women and meetings with other execs and departments, his mind strayed only to one woman.

Her. God, it killed him that he didn’t know her name. He’d hoped she’d have seen his email and, if not shown up to claim her mask, at least replied. But none of the emails that came in about it got the description of the mask right. Some came close, but their descriptions were just off enough for Thor to know they weren’t the girl he’d danced with.

His Elevator Crush. That’s what Val had called her when he’d finally told her - because Val was more friend than assistant, but that was mostly just between them.

Why hadn’t she called him? He’d given her all the information she needed to get in touch. She hadn’t sent a message, hadn’t waited in the line - though he couldn’t so much blame her for that - but she hadn’t done anything to show that she was even interested in him or her mask.

Had he dreamt her up? Had she been a figment of his imagination? That didn’t make sense, given the very real mask in his drawer and the extremely visceral memories of her that kept invading his brain whenever he should be doing work.

Did she...not want to see him? Did she not want answers like he did? Had his mother been wrong to suggest this mode of search?

That much, Thor couldn’t say.

He dragged his thumb and forefinger along his chin, shutting his eyes long enough for her laughter to jingle throughout his cranium. 

A deep ache in his chest told him that he missed her. A part of him wondered how, when he knew so little about her. But another part, a bigger part, was not at all surprised. He’d thought of only her since she’d run from him, regret and sadness in her eyes, he hoped because they’d been enjoying one another’s company and not because she didn’t like him. He hoped beyond hope that he was reading the situations right.

If he wasn’t… He didn’t even want to go there.

All Thor was prepared to do was let himself hope.

---

At the end of the day, just as she was finishing up her list of chores, Sitwell came out of his office. He had his briefcase in hand and seemed ready to leave, but then he saw Y/N still hard at work and stopped. He cleared his throat and approached her desk, putting his briefcase down because, apparently, what he had to say might take a minute.

“Hello, Mr. Sitwell,” she said, attempting to smile. The day had taken a toll on her, though, so the movement felt lazy and uninspired.

Sitwell smirked. He leaned over the desk, holding his tie back to his chest, and tipped his head a bit. “Did you have a fun lunch break today, Miss Y/L/N?” he asked, tone already condescending and awful.

“I, uh. Just went around the block,” she said, but it was just as lifeless as her smile had been. It was clear she was lying, even to her own ears.

“Oh, sure.” He leaned in even more, so close, Y/N leaned away to keep a safe distance. “The poor little secretary went around the block without any of her belongings on the one day a director on the same floor asked all the eligible women to come pay him a visit. Sure. Only…” And yet again, he leaned in, now using the edges of the desk to keep himself steady. “I see right through you. And honestly, I think it’s quite comical that a woman of your station thought you had a chance with Director Odinson.”

Panic set in. This man was too close, both physically and otherwise. But he was missing half the story, probably more, and Y/N was not about to give it to him. She couldn’t, even if she wanted to, because she found herself stunned into absolute silence.

“You’re a secretary. You do my easy work. You’re nothing. No one. And your ambition is beyond your reach.”

She shook her head, but nothing came out. How was she supposed to explain everything? Why would she even bother?

“You listen and you listen well, Y/N. I will not have some clerical whore reaching into the pockets of my peers. You stay where you’re meant to stay or you’ll be out on the street before you can so much as blink, is that understood?”

She shook. Violent shivers overtook her as anxiety coursed, and she was unable to answer. Sitwell smacked the desk, and the hard slap on the wood made her cringe. A pathetic little whimper escaped her as images of the stepmother she’d run from flooded her mind.

Somehow, she always ended up here: deflated, abused, humiliated, and alone.

“I asked you a question!” Sitwell yelled.

Y/N frantically forced herself to nod. She noticed, then, that she was already crying, and her heart sank even lower than it already had. it managed to find a new low in its cavity.

Apparently pleased by his intimidation, Sitwell’s smirk returned. He humphed proudly, then pushed himself up until he looked down at her through dark eyes.

“Remember who you are,” he said. “That I am above you, and I will be believed.”

---

She skipped dinner with Nat and Wanda, and that ticked them off. They automatically knew something wasn’t right.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when they brought dinner to her on a freshly prepared plate, serious looks on their faces even as they calmly asked if their intrusion was okay. They knew Y/N well enough to know she’d never turn them away unless she were sick, but also that she wouldn’t lie to them about being sick even if she wanted to be left alone.

She was too good a friend.

They came in and huddled around Y/N on her bed, watching closely as she picked at the food they’d brought.

“Everything okay?” Nat asked.

Y/N thought about trying to lie to her two closest friends, but the thought didn’t settle in her easily. All she could do instead was shake her head and shut her eyes because if she kept them open, she was going to cry. If she looked either Wanda or Nat in the eyes, she’d lose it.

“What happened?” Wanda spoke up.

If she didn’t want to talk, she knew she could say so. Her friends would let it go, and if they asked again later, she could decide then if she wanted to say anything. But procrastination wasn’t really her style, and letting things sit and muster really wasn’t how she worked. Knowing that, she figured if she talked about it, then she could move on quicker and go about her normal life sooner.

So she told them about the whole day. About the line out of Thor's office, how intimidated she’d been by the women in front of her despite them having said less than sixteen words to her in total. She told them about Jasper Sitwell, too, and they were loud in their objections to his behavior.

“That’s straight up harassment, Y/N!” Wanda said. “You could press charges and-”

But she shook her head. “He’s not worth it. And he’s right - at least in as much as he’s a lot more powerful than I am. I’d never stand a chance against him.”

“You have to quit,” Nat said. “You can’t keep working for that absolute monster.”

“I can’t. I can’t not have a paycheck. I have rent and bills to pay and-”

“We’d take care of that for a while, YN. Don’t stay there like this.” Wanda reached out and gripped her wrist, a softness in her eyes that made her words true and choked Y/N up. “You can let us help you. We want to.”

“If I leave now, he’ll just find another poor girl to do this to.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Nat said. All three of them knew that Nat didn’t have that much to say, but...maybe Bucky did? Maybe, if Y/N wouldn’t go to him for help with Thor (and she wouldn’t, even now), she could trust him with a testimony against Sitwell?

“That man’s been terrorizing you for years, Y/N. This is too far for too long.” Nat wrapped an arm across Y/N’s shoulders and pulled her close, her food all but forgotten. “You deserve better.”

She sat silently for a minute as those words rang around in her head. You deserve better. You. Deserve. Better. No one had...ever said something like that to her. Not before Nat and Wanda.

So she found it hard to believe. Between her stepmother’s abuse and Sitwell’s drilling, all Y/N thought was that she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t hard working or dedicated enough. She was nothing, in Sitwell’s own words.

But didn’t Sitwell lie? Wasn’t he abusing his power by telling her how little she was worth? And, if she was worth so little, why was he keeping her around?

Were her friends right?

At the implication that they were, tears flowed freely. 

Because what if she was worthy? What if she did deserve better than what she’d gotten? What if she wasn’t nothing, but the opposite instead? And what if she believed that she was better, worth more, deserved more and better, and wanted it all?

For a fleeting second, she let herself wonder if Thor was better, more, all that she deserved. But just as quickly, she wrote the possibility off. Maybe she was worthy of her friends and better than her boss at being a human, but that didn’t mean she could reasonably reach so far and expect the best.

There was too much opportunity for her to fall if she went that high.

[sweetpoetryking]

Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss short story

(Disclaimer: I do not own Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, and the artwork used in this fic. All of these belong to their respective owners.)

All of the male overlords plus Stolas were currently in Reneé's house and apparently they were hungry.

"Well I'm starved! Who wants to eat?" Alastor asked to no one in particular, with a wide smile of course.

"As long as you're not the one cooking." Vox grumbled out to his rival.

"I could always cook something if you don't trust Alastor's cooking that much." Reneé said to Vox, but apparently that caught the attention of every demon in the house.

"Oh that sounds lovely darling~" Stolas being himself said it in a seductive tone.

"Hmm, just imagine this sweet little human wearing an apron and cooking us food. My my what a sight~" Valentino suggested while holding your shoulders.

"My what a sight indeed! But I think I might just eat you instead." Stolas then held your chin and purred(chirped?) into your ear.

Vox had enough and snatched you away from Stolas. "Enough of that birdbrain! Reneé offered it to ME, if anything I should be the one to see her cooking for ME and eat that dish."

The two flirty demons were about to argue but Lucifer beat them to it.

"While it is true that she suggested it to YOU, it does not mean that you are the only one to be able to eat what she prepared and see her in that state." He said calmly with his wide smile.

The two overlords and Goetial demon were quiet.

"Well then why don't you cook for all of us then dear?" Alastor suggested to you.

"That.. actually sounds like a good idea." Reneé replied with a small smile.

"Well then it's settled! You don't mind making some apple pie for me don't you?"

"While I wanted to make some Jambalaya, I do want to see what you would prepare for us."

"Anything you make will be alright, as long as Alastor doesn't do anything to it."

"I think we would like you instead~"

"We don't mind sharing~"

Cue the king of hell standing behind them with his wide smile looking sinister. Sensing the aura behind them, the two shut up instantly with sweat running down their faces.

"Okay, well then while I'm busy why don't you guys go sit and relax first?" Reneé insisted, ushering them out of the kitchen.

"And please don't wreck the living room just because I can't watch you guys." Reneé said with a pleading look.

"Oh I like it when you beg like that darling~"

"Keep that up and I might just gobble you right away~"

Vox was the one to stop them, "Ugh shut it you two, honestly why did I even try to tolerate you Val."

"Now now! We should accept the lady's wishes and give Reneé some space as she works. Come along now!" Alastor, being the gentleman as always, finally lead them away.

"Yes and the longer that we stay to chat, the longer it will take for our little human to prepare our meals." Lucifer says then looks at you.

"I am quite exhilarated to see what you will prepare for us, considering that I don't cook myself. Well then I shall take my leave, oh and do keep that last bit to yourself. It wouldn't be good that the others find out about my inability to create 'carnival food' now would it?" He then bows with his smile and all, making Reneé laugh a little at the gesture, winks at you and then leaves. Now Reneé was left to her own devices, and off she went to prepare a dish for every single one of them.

~ With the Overlords and Goetial demon ~

"So Vox, what was that about YOU being the one to see her in an apron and eat her cooking hmm?" Asked Stolas who, might I add, looked VERY smug.

"Ah yes I remember dear Voxie here saying something like that." Valentino pretends to ponder about it whilst holding his chin.

"If I didn't know better I'd say he has become quite fond of the human." Alastor also joined the teasing, as a way of riling up his rival of course.

"Tch well I could say the same to you guys! You all seem to have perked up when she suggested to cook for ME. I would say that you were all jealous~" Vox, even though angered from all the teasing, decided to retaliate.

"Jealous of what? You? If anything I would say that she pitied you in seeing how desperate you were to not eat my cooking." There goes Alastor riling up Vox again. At the same moment was when Lucifer finally showed up in the living room.

"Oh did I miss anything?" He said as he saw the two about to go for each others necks. "If I remember correctly Reneé said to not make a mess of her place right?"

"....yes" Was the only response(grumbles) the king got from the other demons.

"Well we best behave ourselves then if we don't want any trouble to happen at all!" Lucifer said happily but his intentions were clear. Put one toe out of line and you're in big trouble.

~ Timeskip ~

Reneé was finally done in preparing the dishes and she was about to call the demons when something hit her.

'It's quiet for once. I don't know if that's good or bad.' Furrowing her eyebrows and frowning from the thought, she decided to get it over with and call them to the dining room.

"Hey guys! I'm done with the- whoa what happened?" Reneé asked with wide eyes. Well this sight was new, every single one of them were behaving themselves and sitting quietly on your couch/floor.

"Ah already done dear?" Lucifer asks you.

"Oh umm yes, but what exactly happened here?" Reneè replied awkwardly, "I-if you don't mind me asking of course!" She hurriedly added afraid that she might offend them or something.

"Not at all! You see I just wanted to make sure that we do not make a mess of your home, isn't that right everyone?" Replied Lucifer happily, too happy actually.

"Yup" Vox.

"Yes we don't want to make you upset dear." Alastor.

"After all we won't be able to sleep together without a bedroom right?" Valentino

"I can't have my fun with you if we don't have any place to stay in darling~" Stolas

Well their replies definetely made her flustered but she was glad that they were alright. "Okay then, we should probably start or else the food will get cold. Let's go yeah?"

Reneé said with a close-eyed smile.

~ Timeskip ~

"I don't know about everyone else but I sure am full." Reneé said to them.

"Hmph, well you are only human so you can't eat as much as us demons." Vox replied to you, albeit a bit cockily.

"She is after all a lady, so it would make sense as to why she eats less than us." Ahh there goes Alastor defending her, but she had different views.

"I don't really think that's true Al, after all I helped myself to at least 2 plates brimming with food." Reneé said a bit embarassed. "Even my family said that I eat a lot." Chuckling to herself at the memory of her family teasing her about it.

"Setting that aside I think the sweet girl did a good job at making us this meal." Lucifer interjected to your conversation.

"Hmm yes she did do an amazing job of being the perfect little wife, now did you darling~?" Valentino complimented Reneé with a purr at the end.

"I wouldn't mind having you as a wife if it means I get the luxury of eating like this everytime I want, after all I only deserve the best." Stolas, of course being himself, responded to Reneé with his decadent persona.

"I wonder if I brought you to hell would you be able to create these fantastic dishes over there as well?" Pondered the king of hell.

"I don't think they would be quite excited to see a human in hell." Sweatdropping Reneé answered to Lucifer's idea.

"Oh that sounds like a marvelous idea! Reneé over here cooking magnificent dishes using hell's best ingredients! Why it might as well keep me entertained!" Now Alastor has joined at the idea of Reneé going to hell. Great.

"Yes only the best ingredients for the best results specially made for moi!" Aaand there goes Stolas.

"Umm, I don't think-"

"She might as well try some of the clothing I have back at hell." Val seriously you too?!

"You don't mind going to hell with us don't you little human? After all we have been visiting you for quite a while now, and you would have 4 overlords of hell and 1 Goetia demon as your guides." Well actually Vox did have a point.

"...." Reneé thought it over for a moment. And then she suddenly smiled and laughed. "Sure why not? After all I am quite curious as to what it looks like there, consider this as a trade for me showing you around here."

And so her day ends with the overlords being elated to knowing they would get to show Reneé around hell, and of course with more bickering from a certain deer and flat screen tv, more flirting from two other demons, resulting to the king of hell to do something so that Reneé doesn't get sued for noise complaint.

~ End ~

(Sorry if they all seem a bit ooc, also this was just based off on a dream that I had recently so it is a bit random.)

[syntaxeme]

Nowhere to Go But Up ch. 1

Chapter word count: 3859 Rating: T Pairing: Angel/Val Read on AO3: [x] Next chapter: [coming soon!] Story summary: Angel's history of drugs, gangs, and porn isn't quite as glamorous as most people think. This is the story of how a scrawny, lonely dead boy named Anthony moved up (or down) in the world and became Hell's #1 sex symbol, Angel Dust. The only way to the top is to claw your way up from the bottom.

— — –

When Anthony got to Hell, it didn’t surprise him to find that his old man was already there. Where the fuck else would he have gone? As ‘religious’ as their Catholic family had always been, his father was a piece of shit by all accounts, a sinner through and through. It took a couple weeks for him to figure it out, since people called him ‘Henroin’ down here—but even that made sense. Smack was always his drug of choice in life, so why should death be any different?

It took some doing, some seducing of guards and general sexual favors for his advisors (even though Anthony’s body wasn’t exactly how he remembered it, he still got used to it quickly), but Anthony eventually got an audience with him. And again, unsurprisingly, Henroin wasn’t happy to see him.

“Shit, Anton, you died even faster than I expected,” the boss—even a boss in Hell, apparently—growled, unimpressed. He looked every bit as spidery as Anthony had become, maybe even more so. “Just when I thought you couldn’t disappoint me more.”

“Thanks, Pop, good to see you too,” Anthony said with a roll of his eyes.

“Well? What do you want?” Henroin asked flatly.

“What do you fucking think? I’m your son. Shouldn’t I be involved in your business down here?”

His father let out a cold laugh. “When have you ever been useful to my business? If your brother was here, or even Molly, they might be useful. You? You’re worthless. Always have been. I dunno what you expected to change now you’re dead.”

That was a fair point. His father had never appreciated anything about who he was or how he felt, and vice-versa. Why would he care what happened to Anthony’s soul for the rest of his immortal life? It was Hell. Nobody cared about anybody, as Anthony was soon to learn.

He spent his next few months (assuming he was even perceiving time right in this weird, fucked-up realm) on the streets, whoring around, doing whatever it took to survive. He got ripped off more than once, some demon fucking him all night then beating the shit out of him when he mentioned payment. He figured out pretty quick that drugs were every bit as big in Hell as they were on Earth, so that was where most of his money went. Just to not be conscious. Just to forget for a minute.

It was supposed to be a punishment, wasn’t it? What little he remembered of church was that Hell was where Bad People went because they’d done Bad Things and deserved to Feel Bad. Well, he was, he had, and he did. God, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt like anything other than absolute shit. It might’ve stayed that way forever—or at least until the next extermination—if he hadn’t met Cherri.

That morning, he was slumped against a gutted storefront, his eyes clouded, his head foggy as he was still coming off a high from two days ago. Some woman strolled up to him and nudged his leg with a booted foot. “Hey,” she said flatly. “Get off my street, skid, you’re making me look bad.”

“Get out of my face, bitch,” Anthony grumbled, turning away, covering his eyes to hide from the sunrise’s glaring light.

“Ha!” The demoness bent at the waist, grasped a handful of his hair, and forced his head up. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said fuck off!” Anthony snapped, jerking away from her hand. “Are you fucking deaf? Get away from me.”

The girl laughed again and gestured at a couple of big demons standing at her back. “Bring him.” Although he didn’t want to be taken who-knew where for who-knew what reason, Anthony really didn’t have the energy to fight. They took him across Pentagram City in a banged-up towncar driven by the girl-boss herself, then dragged him inside what he recognized as a shitty little gang complex.

“You’re tweaked out of your fucking head, aren’t you?” When she grabbed his hair again and forced him to look at her, his eyes were clear enough to realize that she only had one above her sharp-toothed grin. He sneered and tried to escape her grasp, but she just laughed as she released him. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Put his ass to bed.”

Despite Anthony’s attempts to tempt them with his body—probably pretty sloppy attempts, considering how fucked up he was—the guys working for her ignored him and dragged him off to a sort of cell, a bare room with a bed and a barred window, then locked him up alone. What’s-her-tits appeared in a slot in the cell door and told him once he calmed down, maybe they could try talking again. Considering how bad he was coming down, how miserable and unhinged he was, he screamed, he fought, he clawed at his own skin, but nothing did him any good. He tore the room apart. He shouted until his throat shredded and bled. He dissolved into sobbing and hyperventilating in a corner of the room. God, everything, everything felt so fucking bad, and now that he didn’t have some kind of distraction, drugs or sex or booze, whatever, he was being forced to feel every bit of it.

Sometime while he was passed out, they put water inside the room for him, and he savored every drop on his damaged throat. They delivered food, and he ate for the first time in who-knew how long. There was a period, he didn’t have any idea how long, where he was barely even aware of what was going on around him, too angry and scared and agonized to keep track. This wasn’t any better. He wished he could just fucking die to escape it, like he had on Earth, but that wasn’t an option here. Maybe he deserved this. Maybe he had done enough wrong in life to belong in this shithole for the rest of eternity.

Days, maybe weeks passed in this cycle of misery and pain and eventual, merciful oblivion once he passed out. Finally, the girl-boss came back by his room and opened the door to stroll inside, apparently not worried about him trying to escape. Which he didn’t. Dropping to sit in front of the mattress that had been serving as his bed, she rested her chin in one hand. “So?” she prompted. “Who are you?”

“Nobody,” Anthony said quietly, having gotten past all his anger and violence to the point that he was just exhausted and depressed now.

The demoness, his captor, rolled her eye. “Anyway, I’m Cherri. And you are…?”

Despite his reluctance, he huffed out, “Anthony.”

“Great. I’m gonna call you Tony,” she said with a grin, leaning forward to watch him curiously. “What’s your story? How’d you end up on my side of town?”

“What do you care? You saw me before. You’ve seen how pathetic I am all this time,” he muttered, unable to even look at her. “I’m nothing. I’m nobody. If you’re gonna kill me or whatever, just fucking do it.”

“God, you’re depressing,” she said. “Well if you ain’t gonna tell me, you got anybody you know down here? Friends? Family? Some gang I can get you back to?”

“No. I mean, there’s my dad, but he doesn’t give a shit about me. People call him Henroin.”

“Holy fuck!” Cherri crowed, her eye growing wide. “You’re Henroin’s kid? I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said he doesn’t care,” Anthony snapped. “It’s not like you can ransom me to him or whatever, because he won’t pay.” He knew that for a fact, having experienced something similar in life.

“Huh. Can’t really say I’m surprised. I’ve always heard he’s an asshole.” Refusing to let the subject go, refusing to leave him to suffer alone, she suggested, “So answer me yourself.”

“What’s the point?”

“The point is I wanna know. Look, I know you’re in the middle of some bad withdrawal right now. Like, I can tell, I’ve been there, I see it on you. It fucking sucks. Makes you wish you were deader than you already are. But this place ain’t something you get out of by losing your will to live, and eternity is a long time to keep feeling like that or drugging yourself stupid, you know?” She started bouncing one leg, apparently a little restless but keeping her attention on him. “If you quit being so mopey about it, I bet I can help.”

“Why? Why bother with my mopey ass?” Anthony demanded, and Cherri grinned back.

“I dunno, you were kind of a bitch that first time we talked, and I kind of liked it,” she confessed. “Plus, most everybody around here knows better than to fuck with me, so maybe I like the change of pace.”

“Look, if you think I’m gonna be all grateful you ‘saved my life’ and we’re gonna be best pals, you’ve got another thing coming,” Anthony argued, finally managing to muster a little irritation. “I ain’t here to entertain you, and I ain’t fucking you either. If that’s what you—”

Cherri dropped her head back and let out a loud, grating laugh. “I’m not into dudes, you stuck-up prick,” she snickered, though she sounded more amused than offended. “So ditto. How about you take a few more days to chill the fuck out and then we’ll talk about you maybe joining my crew?”

***

It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t easy, but Anthony eventually got used to his role at Cherri’s place. Every day or so, maybe a couple times a day, she would come by his room and they would chat about whatever—his life before all this, her life, her new life, and the shitty excuse for ‘living’ he’d been doing ever since his dad kicked him out. After all, he had nothing better to do with his time, and he found talking with her worked to distract him from all the shit his body was still going through.

She told him more about the gang and her role in it, about how satisfying it was to kick some douchey demon’s ass when he was trying to horn in on her turf. She was shocked that he was a mobster’s son in life and still didn’t know how to use a damn gun, which she said was a crime in itself. When he mentioned the demons who had taken advantage of him before they met, Cherri was absolutely livid and swore on the spot that she was going to teach him how to defend himself.

“You can’t let them get away with that shit,” she growled. “If they think you’re too weak to stop them, fuckers down here will eat you alive. You gotta show ‘em you ain’t somebody they want to mess with.”

Considering how totally opposed it was to the rest of his experience in Hell so far, it kind of threw him off to be around someone who gave a shit about other people again. Maybe not all other people, but Cherri took care of her own gang, at least, and now she was asking him to be part of it. It wasn’t like he had any better options to pursue. So once he had finally gotten all the crystal and cravings out of his system, once he was himself enough to care where his future was going, he left his cell (which hadn’t been locked for some time) and found Cherri to accept her offer.

It turned out that when you weren’t trying to take on everything by yourself, Hell really wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t 24/7 misery, at least, now that Anthony wasn’t completely alone and struggling for life on the street. True to her word, Cherri trained him with guns. And knives. And bombs. And poisons. She even helped him figure out how to use his own spindly, lanky body to his advantage in a fight; it turned out he was a lot more flexible and agile than he’d realized. The inherent violence of Hell was obviously her favorite part of the whole deal, and with her encouragement, Anthony started enjoying it too. It was nice to not feel powerless for once. And even in the moments when he was overwhelmed, it was nice to know there were people on his side. Cherri’s gang was made up of junkies and criminals, but this group of sinners stuck together and looked out for each other. Good to have a family that actually wanted him for once.

***

About ten years after his death, there was a big turf war between their gang and some bird-looking asshole who took himself way too seriously. Called himself Bedlam. If he had been upfront about his whole hostile takeover bullshit, Cherri’s gang would’ve wiped his, easy. But he decided to come at them sideways with a ‘sneak attack’ and took out a third of their guys overnight. Cherri was furious but a little panicked over the sudden decrease in their forces. As far as Anthony could tell, she’d never been in a fight this big, this serious, and it was really getting to her.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked, more laidback than her, as usual. “It’s not like we don’t have way more muscle regardless. He can throw his ‘cultured’ fuckwads at us all day and we’ll gut every one of ‘em.”

“Muscle ain’t gonna win a fucking war, Tony,” she argued, holed up in her ‘office’ and trying to figure out how to approach this. “If he’s smart enough and he pulls another sneaky trick like this, we can kiss our cozy setup here good-bye. Goddamn it!” She grabbed up her desk chair and slung it out the window behind her, not flinching in the slightest at the sound of shattering glass. She had a point Anthony couldn’t argue with; he’d seen enough of his dad’s business to know brains beat brawn nine times out of ten.

“We need guys who are a little bit of both,” he mused, tapping his foot idly from his seat by the wall. “Like, you got your baseline soldiers and your advisors. You got your bruisers and your assassins. You need more of those guys. Specialists, you know? Precision killers. Right?”

“Yeah,” Cherri said thoughtfully, nodding slowly as she considered what he was saying. “Yeah, I think you’re right, babe. But people like that don’t come cheap. I’d have to…I might have to… Ah, fuck.” With a defeated growl, she shoved away from her desk and marched toward the door.

“Hey, where we going?” Anthony asked, hopping up to follow after her.

“Not we. Just me. I’m going to get some help. I don’t wanna do it, but we ain’t got much choice,” she told him as she strode through the complex without once looking back.

“Hey, why can’t I help? You know I can be persuasive, bitch. Let me—”

“Tony.” She rounded on him, her sneer less vicious and more nervous. “Just stay here, okay? I’ll be back and I’ll talk the whole deal out with you. The only way I’m gonna get this done is if I do it on my own. Okay?”

Seeing how shaken up she was and not wanting to make it worse, he heaved a sigh and threw his hands up. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Try not to die.”

He watched her car drive off, both pairs of arms crossed in irritation. But Cherri had been doing this boss thing for a while. He had to trust she knew how to do it. But getting excluded from the plan like this, being told “just stay at home and trust me to take care of it”? It was too reminiscent of his father and brother excluding him from family work. He hated that shit.

It took hours for Cherri to get back. Anthony stalked around the complex, waiting for a call, a sign, the sound of the car’s engine, anything. It was past midnight when she finally trudged inside, dragging her feet, looking exhausted. Anthony was lounging in her room, half-asleep in her bed when the door slammed open.

“Hey,” he said groggily, forcing himself up to look her in the face. “You look like shit. Where you been?”

“Not now.” She wandered unsteadily over to the bed and collapsed, dropping her face against her pillow. “Just. Lemme sleep. I’ll explain tomorrow.” Anthony watched her for a few seconds, realizing she was already mostly unconscious, and let out a defeated sigh. Dragging a blanket over her still form, he lay down and draped one arm over her shoulders.

“All right. Tomorrow.”

But tomorrow came, and he didn’t get his explanation. The next few days were so busy that he and Cherri hardly had time to sit down and talk; they spent too much time fighting or planning to fight or getting ambushed and then defending themselves. And even though Anthony wasn’t sure how she’d pulled it off, the boss had definitely brought in some skilled help, the kind of vicious, calculating bastards who kept cool in a fight but each did just as much damage as a team of ten amateur muscleheads.

“Shit, Cherri!” Anthony laughed during another street brawl, watching wave after wave of Bedlam’s henchmen get cut down by their reinforcements. “Where’d you find these guys? They’re brutal!”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d take care of it?” she asked with a grin, lobbing another bomb and cackling gleefully as it went off. “Nobody fucks with my people and walks away from it.”

After that point, the ‘war’ didn’t last much longer; with the new demons she’d brought in, Cherri’s gang was pretty much unstoppable, even spreading out further to take over the opposing gang’s turf. When she cornered Bedlam, it turned out he wasn’t much of a fighter himself and had to rely on his bodyguards—who had all abandoned ship when they realized they were on the losing side. Loyalty was a foreign concept to most demons, after all.

Cherri beat the absolute shit out of the guy, even shoved a bomb down his throat in her blind fury. The whole thing was real messy, and nobody walked away from it smiling. But at least it was over.

Sort of.

Sometime later in the week, as things were getting back to normal and Cherri was figuring out how to run shit now that her territory was twice as big, Anthony came to meet her in her office, only to find the door locked.

“Look, I don’t have the time right now,” he heard from inside. Cherri’s voice. He got closer and pressed his ear to the door to listen. What kind of conversation could she be having that she’d lock him out of it? “My gang still needs me directing them while we clean up this fucking mess. Tell him I’ll be there when I’m ready.”

“You better not keep him waiting too long, sweetheart,” an unfamiliar voice responded. “Val ain’t the most patient guy, and you wouldn’t want him having to collect your debt by force.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, coming into my place and making threats? I don’t care who your boss is; if you don’t get—” Her voice cut off with what was unmistakably a slap and a cry of pain, sending Anthony’s heart rate through the roof. Without thinking, he took a step back and broke the door in with a single powerful kick, already drawing three different guns to aim at whoever was hurting his friend.

Cherri struggled to her feet behind her desk, jaws clenched in an unyielding snarl. The guy she was arguing with was huge and dressed in a suit, totally out of place among their ragtag gang. “Get the fuck away from her,” Anthony hissed. The guy looked him coldly up and down, then turned away to speak to Cherri again.

“You’ve got a week to get your ass to the studio and hold up your end of the deal. After that, there’ll be consequences.” He left the room without another glance in Anthony’s direction.

“You broke my door, you bitch,” Cherri muttered once he was gone.

“Forget that. What the fuck just happened?” Anthony demanded, putting his guns away and coming over to her desk to check on her. Her head was down, but he could still see a red mark growing on her swollen cheek. He tried to reach out, to see if there was anything he could do to help, but she swatted his hands away.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you kidding? That guy just knocked you on your ass. You wouldn’t’ve let him walk away without a good reason.” What was the name he had used? “Val. Who’s Val?”

Cherri was silent for a few more seconds, curling her hands into tight fists and pressing them against the desktop. Eventually, quietly, she explained, “His name’s Valentino. He’s a bigshot Overlord from the North Side. Tons of money, tons of people, tons of ‘friends in high places.’ He loaned me a bunch of his guys for the turf war, so now I…owe him.”

“Owe him what?” Anthony asked despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. Surely Cherri wouldn’t agree to what he was imagining. The longer she waited to answer, though, the worse his fears got.

“He runs Porn Studios. He’s been trying to get me to shoot with him for years, so I told him if he helped us out with Bedlam…” She trailed off with a shrug, unwilling to even say the words out loud. “We were out of options, babe. I couldn’t let the whole gang get murdered because I couldn’t lead them right. So it is what it is. I’ll go do whatever gross shit Val wants from me and we’ll move on like it didn’t happen.” Even as she was saying it, though, she seemed unsure, which was a very rare state to see her in.

Anthony wasn’t sure how to respond. Whatever Valentino was asking her to do, it was obviously something she was dreading, and he’d seen plenty of times how heated she got about anyone being pressured or forced into sex. Him, on the other hand… Well, sex just wasn’t that big a deal to him. Never had been.

Cherri had done so much for him. She was always the one backing him up in a fight, always the one who made him talk about the shit that bothered him. If it weren’t for her taking him in all those years ago, he would almost definitely be double-dead already, totally wiped from existence. There was really no way to pay her back for all that. But if she was finally in a position she couldn’t handle alone, if this was something that genuinely scared her or made her nervous, he was going to do whatever it took to help her out of it.

He would just have to convince Valentino to let him pay her debt instead.

[15001700tt]

Descendants of the Moon

Testing Foreign Waters

Descendants of the Moon Masterlist

Word count: 1,649 

tag list: @multi-fan-trash @chastja  @syublush @serpentityx 

Dm me if you want to be on the tag list!

Key: Italics- things that happened in the drama but do not old any importance to the story line

Episode 2:

Yoo Ji arrives at the hospital with a purpose this time. She has to tell Mo Yeon and her friends that she’s leaving to volunteer in Urk, a city on the other side of the world, she has no idea when she’ll come back but this isn't the first time so they shouldn’t be too surprised. 

“Hey! Have you seen Mo Yeon?” she caught Chi Hoon, he shook his head no. he checked the board behind him. 

“Oh, she should be coming out of the operation room. Come, I need to talk to her anyway,” he fidgeted as he nervously smiled. She glanced down and back up to his face.

“You lost your ring again” she stated, his eyes widened. 

“Don’t tell Hae Eun!” he blurted out, she chuckled and promised she wouldn’t. He led her towards the room. They found Mo Yeon with Hae Eun. 

Chi Hoon gave Hae Eun a really bad excuse for her to leave, as soon as she was out of sight he started looking through the laundry basket.

“He lost his ring again” Yoo Ji explained to a confused Mo Yeon. she then rolled her eyes. 

“Again!?” she groaned. She glared at the anxious boy. 

“Clench your jaw” she muttered, faking a jab at him. He smiled clenching his jaw before making his escape.

“I hope he grows up a little faster.” Mo Yeon murmured to Yoo Ji. she nodded and observed her doctor friend.

“Did you need me for something? I was going to take a quick nap before I do my rounds.” Mo Yeon sighed, she looked exhausted.

“I am leaving for volunteer work in two days,” Yoo Ji told her. She never beat around the bush.

“They need help covering the area and I am the only one available right now,” she explained. 

“I thought you were covering the Park Ree Kim case?” Mo Yeon mentioned Yoo Ji’s case, she was at Haesun, getting treated for heart disease. Yoo Ji was tailing the doctor, to get information.

“They’re replacing me with a rookie reporter, besides it was the son” she waved off. 

“I still don’t know why you choose to be a reporter when you could be a private investigator” Mo Yeon shook her head at how peculiar her friend was.

“I like writing the reports” Yoo Ji sarcastically replied. She soon had to leave to pack and get her stuff sorted out with the embassy. She bid goodbyes to all her friends. 

-

The events between Shi Jin and Mo Yeon happen. 

-

The shower scene right before the Alpha team is where Dae Young and Shi Jin ask Gwang Nam about Yoo Ji. 

“I noticed ever since we came back from Haesung, you’ve been too quiet” Shi Jin questioned the tranquil man. 

“You think he fell in love with Mun Yoo Ji?” Dae Young teased.

“Probably, he’s never seen a girl fight before” Shi Jin teased, laughing as he got shoved by Gwang Nam who was getting flustered. 

“Shut up” 

-

Yoo Ji explored the area well, she almost got every crook of the town that wasn’t dangerous to the public. Of course, she wasn’t scared she just didn't want to get on the U.S.’s bad side as they were leading the bases here. 

She went to a bar by the seaside. She met this bartender that was peculiar, you can get anything there. But Valentine, the bartender, had a rule. ‘We don’t sell women or information here’ Yoo Ji loved to challenge that, and she’s only been here for a week. 

There wasn't much to do here for a reporter, she was mostly covering the political debate between Urk and the U.S. but that was going very slow, and everyone is being careful so there’s not as much fun as her usual cases.

“Hey Val,” Yoo Ji greeted in English. 

“Ji, you’re here again, it’s the fifth time this week.” Val scoffed with mild annoyance. 

“I wouldn't be here if you would just give me what I need” Yoo Ji reminded her. 

“The rule” Val stated with no room for leniency.

“Well then, I’ll just have a dry martini” Yoo Ji admitted silent defeat for the day.

“It's one in the afternoon” Val raised an eyebrow.

“It's happy hour somewhere,” Yoo Ji muttered.

-Eight months later- 

The Korean army found an active land mine, they were instructed by Yoo Shi Jin to disarm the active ones. Of course, Shi Jin and Dae Young got called to the main base to be disciplined for not following the correct orders and letting the US Army deal with it. 

Gwang Nam was tasked with driving them there, he dropped them off and went to hang out in the bar that's near the base. 

He pulled up and went inside. He sat by the bar and ordered a drink, he was planning on waiting for Shi Jin and Dae Young and then leaving when they finish. 

But his thought process was halted when his eyes were drawn to the door, and a familiar girl walked in. she didn't seem to notice him and sat a few seats away from him. He figured she was used to military men being around here considering how close this bar was to their base.

She called the bartender, and Gwang Nam noticed that they were on a first-name basis. The bartender whose name he heard was Val, seemed used to the girl’s tendencies. 

Gwang Nam couldn't get over his shock of seeing Yoo Ji, the strange girl he met back in Korea at the hospital Ki Bum was getting treated at. His mouth was flopped open, he couldn't believe the odds. 

Finally, Yoo Ji seemed to feel someone’s gaze on her, she turned and couldn't help but feel shock radiate through her body. She didn't let it consume her though, she quickly recovered and gave him a knowing smile. She hopped off her seat and plopped right next to him.

“Hey, we met in Korea, right? Mo Yeon tried to call the police on your friend” her smile grew at the ridiculousness of her friend. 

“Yeah,” Gwang Nam swallowed and gave her a small smile. 

“You’re probably wondering why am I here” Yoo Ji speculated from the curious look on his face. 

“If you don't mind sharing” he responded.

“I am a reporter, I am covering the political debate. What about you soldier?” she grinned.

“I’ve been deployed here for the last 8 months” he vaguely ghosted over exactly what he’s doing here. He couldn't exactly tell her that he was on ‘break’ from his ‘special’ job. 

“You’re a First Sergeant, probably involved in Special Forces” Yoo Ji deduced. They don’t deploy any soldiers here, it was a magnet for hostage kidnappings. Gwang Nam had to hide his surprise or he’ll lose his job. 

“But you know, you don't strike me as a special forces agent” she saw the hooded look in his eyes, he was probably going to stay silent, his way of not confirming nor denying; but now she made a hit to his ego and pride. To Yoo Ji, she knew that military men have a huge pride problem. Especially those who went voluntarily, she saw the small fire ignite in his eyes. Yoo Ji also noticed that he was trained well, he was trained to not lie but to not tell the whole truth, which is much more efficient. Beats the polygraph test seven times out of ten. 

“That’s what makes me good at it” he teased. Yoo Ji felt her eyebrow raise. He didn't deny it but he didn't outright tell her. He left enough space for her to wonder if she’s right or not. She quietly approved. usually, they would crack under her pressure. 

Their stare off was interrupted when two more men joined their section. 

“Ready to go?” Dae Young asked from behind the girl Gwang Nam was conversing with. 

“Captain and Deputy Leader” Yoo Ji addressed turning around with a smirk. Shi Jin overreacted and put a hand to his chest, while Dae young gave her an amused smile.

“Cool girl! What are you doing here?” Shi Jin questioned as he gave her a side hug. 

“I knew you liked me but you didn't have to follow me halfway around the world” Dae Young deadpanned, causing Yoo Ji and Gwang Nam to roll their eyes at Dae Young’s dry sense of humor. 

“As if, I am here on special reporter business that I can’t tell you about” she twisted her words and made eye contact with Shi Jin. Yoo Ji was trying to see if he got what she’s trying to do. He did.

“Mo Yeon told you” it was a statement.

“Just because I am halfway around the world, doesn't mean I don’t know what’s going on with my friends.” 

“Well, then you should know she’s coming to Urk next week” Dae Young informed her. That she didn't know, Mo Yeon didn't mention that. The last thing she mentioned was that the Chairman asshole tried to sleep with her. 

She didn't mention that to Shi Jin, she wanted to see his reaction when Mo Yeon tells him herself, now that she’s coming. 

Yoo Ji excused herself telling them she had to go to her boss and report back on some work she had done prior to meeting them. 

Turns out, Yoo Ji’s boss was looking for volunteers to stay at the Taebaek Unit to cover an issue on how the Korean military sustains in foreign countries. They were allowed by the Korean military and had to be careful about what they write, and so the boss wanted to find the best person that would do so. She was set to move in later in the week. 

-

The scene where Shi Jin and Mo Yeon meet at the airport and he’s totally cold towards her.

[athenril-of-kirkwall]

For DWC: Fill, Wanted, Trouble for Hawke x Athenril

Woohoo, more of Hawke and his bae/boss/it’s complicated/(?)

m!Hawke/Athenril, “Wanted in Ostwick” (AO3)

“You said you wanted to see me, Aveline?”, Hawke asked innocently.

“I did indeed,” the Guard-Captain said, folding her hands together on her work desk. “Oh, come off it. You’re not in trouble. Not this time, anyway.”

“Right,” Varric said, “because people only ever get hauled up to the Guard-Captain’s office for social calls.”

Glaring at the dwarf standing behind Hawke, Aveline said, “I don’t recall inviting you.”

Hawke explained, “Oh, that was on my initiative. I figured that if I was being dragged here I’d need him to talk me out of whatever circumstances I’d find myself in.”

Aveline felt a headache coming on. “You…oh, never mind. What I wanted to talk to you about was this.”

She reached into a drawer, carefully lifting a well-worn piece of parchment covered in writing and decorated with two portraits. A stamped decree on the corner denoted Ostwick as its place of origin. Hawke and Varric leaned in to study the poster as Aveline explained why and how it’d come into her possession.

“You see,” she said, “I was clearing out some old files when I moved in, and I just so happened to spot this old poster. What’s this all about?”

Hawke shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t the foggiest, Aveline. This is clearly a wanted poster for ‘James Faulkner’ and ‘Jessie Varvel’.”

“Oh for the love of the Maker…!” she yelled, jabbing her index finger at each picture in turn, saying “That’s clearly you, right down to that stupid smear of blood you’re never able to wash off after a fight,”

“I beg your pardon!” Hawke ejaculated, defensively wiping at his nose, which was perfectly clean this time round.

“, and that’s obviously your old employer Athenril!” she continued, pointing at the redheaded elf whose picture was right next to his.

“I, ah, hasten to remind you that she happens to also be your old employer, my dear Guard-Captain, so I wouldn’t be screaming this from the roof of the Viscount’s keep,” he retorted.

“Oh, please. That’s not even close to the worst skeleton in anyone’s closet here,” Aveline said, rolling her eyes.

All three of them waited for Merrill to interject with some confused comment about skeleton infestations in the keep, until they realised that she was still in the Alienage.

“Anyway,” Hawke huffed, “I claim the right of habeus corpus. My lips are sealed.”

Varric stared at him. “I think you mean protection from self-incrimination, Hawke.”

Squinting as her headache got worse, Aveline said, “Actually, you’re both thinking of the statute of limitations, which I assure you is well past.”

Hawke turned to Varric, asking him, “Isn’t a statuette of limitations that thing Bartrand had us fish out of that creepy thaig?”

“I suppose you could call it that,” the dwarf quipped.

It definitely was worse now. “A ‘statute of limitations’, you numbskulls, means you can’t be prosecuted for a charge after a certain amount of time, but this doesn’t happen to include murder, robbery, or grand theft, so don’t get ideas. And no, I’m not telling you how long right now either.”

Eyes dimming after lighting up at the idea of gaining clemency for the odd felony by getting away with things for long enough, Hawke turned back to Aveline. “Oh all right, I suppose you’ve got a right to hear this story. This was a special assignment Athenril had for me, hence why you were left out of the loop when we went over to Ostwick.”

Aveline leaned forward, steepling her fingers. “Special assignment, huh?”

“It was, ah, a two-man job.”

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “Is that what they call it now?”

“Look, if you’re going to take perverse pleasure from questioning me about this, I think I have a right to make Varric tell you the story so we’re even.”

They both started to protest, but Hawke clapped the merchant on his shoulder, telling him, “Too late! You’re up, says me and your unpaid tab at the Hanged Man, which will disappear tonight, if everything goes well right now.”

“Oh, all right,” Varric said, “but only because Hawke’s still kind of hung up about…”

Hawke was staring daggers at him.

“Look, you drag me into this, I’m going to take you down with me.”

Aveline gently pounded on the tabletop. “Do you mind getting on with it, Varric?”

“Very well, so this was, as you can guess, sometime during Hawke’s first year here…”

Somewhere, sometime in the future, a short-haired Nevarran Seeker of Truth let loose a disgusted noise once she realised that she’d let Varric recursively nestle his narratives within each other yet again. The dwarf’s smile threatening to reach both his ears, he began.

Sometime during Hawke’s first year in Kirkwall, and when he was still working for Athenril the Hightown smuggler, he went on a special assignment to Ostwick with her, namely smuggling lyrium mined around Kirkwall and selling it to their branch of the Mages’ Collective at a killer rate in return for certain services, specifically getting them, along with some Tal-Vashoth mercenaries she’d pay for this one-off, to come over to Kirkwall and deal the Coterie such a bloody nose that they’d get off her back forever, ladder or otherwise.

Hey, you’re the one that mentioned the statuette of limitations, Red. Once you tell us how long that is for lyrium smuggling, I’ll just say it happened that long ago plus a month.

So anyway, they were supposed to go there with just a small sample of the stuff, with Hawke as “James Faulkner”, an eccentric Fereldan nouveau riche who was wasting his parents’ money on a tour of the rest of the world, starting out at Val Chevin, then Cumberland, followed by Kirkwall, then the coastline of the Free Marches, which left Ostwick as his next port of call. Athenril was posing as Varvel, his elfin mistress, because you know, that’s the kind of world we live in.

That said, I don’t think she wasted a single opportunity in their shared quarters reminding Hawke just who was boss.

…I did say I was going to drag you down with me, Hawke. You don’t like how I’m telling this story, you can take over any time. I can pay for my own drinks, you know. Fine, Aveline, I’ll get to it. Where was I? Oh yeah. After riding the rough seas day and night, they finally got within sight of Ostwick, and the loving couple…of business associates…disembarked, with a heavy suitcase of the stuff in tow.

This, as you might expect, is where everything started going wrong. You see, the Coterie firstly didn’t really fail to notice their chief rival, even with her hair and ears wrapped in a headscarf, leaving the city, and secondly, the Coterie happened to have friends of their own in Ostwick, specifically amongst the Templars, whose lyrium addictions they were already feeding, so this really was a ship doomed to sink before it launched. Figuratively, although it could well have been literally too if they had so wished.

Still, they probably wanted their marks to get a little bit further into the city before getting at them, so that they had the opportunity to really make examples of them. Such was it that “James Faulkner” and “Jessica Varvel” rather overconfidently got through the customs, what with their specially lead-lined valise nominally containing the various curios that this Fereldan fop had been picking up on his Grand Tour but instead secreting the good stuff within its secret panels.

Finding lodgings in a chateau so ridiculously beyond their usual accommodations that it’d have broken their budget had they actually intended so stay more than the night, or, well, not just steal it back once they were done in Ostwick, Hawke and Athenril went on to indulge their fantasies of wealth and privilege, strolling through Ostwick’s rich markets and supping on fine food and wine – a fleeting dream, that they only wished they could hold onto for more than just one day…oh, all right, Hawke, I’ll move on. I hate seeing you grumpy.

In truth, they were also reconnoitring the streets, seeing where and how they’d approach the drop-off point, having picked up their contact’s signal at the bottom of a tankard in one of their better establishments, also surveying the rooftops for possible exits and escapes. This in particular would come in handy afterwards, when it all went to shit. Their supposed contact was in fact a mole, a double-agent for the Templars if you will. Safe be it to say that if they had actually turned up at their agreed-upon alleyway in Ostwick they’d have never made it out alive.

But you see, Templars in Ostwick are a bit more of an organised and efficient bunch than the hobnailed thugs…excuse me, Aveline, beleaguered civil servants…we have over here, and from the moment they’d landfall there they were already making preparations to nab the two of them, and as they slept in their down-lined bed, posters were already going up and their informants were already spreading the word that this Fereldan dandy and his elvhen maid were both Public Enemy Numéro Un.

Still, to give Hawke and his lady-boss some credit, they did sense the air shifting outside their room well in time to get dressed into their armour, shoving their finery into their lyrium case, dumping the mass of worthless Lowtown gewgaws onto the carpet, before the Knight-Lieutenant assigned to the case started kicking down the door after his usual “you-are-under-arrest” speech, bolting out of the window to the waiting rooftop outside.

Well, you can imagine the sort of wonderful escapade that resulted. Real exciting stuff, these rooftop chases, what with being weighed down by that precious valise which was the source of all their troubles. Hawke can tell you just how difficult it is to balance on a slanting roof with five pounds dragging you down on one side. Clutching it to his chest like it was a child, Hawke zigzagged his way to the harbour, with Athenril leading him the way there.

It was all going well until he twisted his ankle and slid all the way down a tiled roof to land amongst a pile of grain sacks, only to find himself surrounded by a group of opportunistic bandits who were on the lookout for “James Faulkner.” Wincing in pain as he drew his daggers, Hawke prepared for the inevitable. There were a lot of them and just one of him, and his foot was aching something fierce.

Then, like an avenging spirit, Athenril dove off the next roof, her arrows landing in one thug each, making a perfect descent to the cobblestone quay, fighting her way to Hawke.

“Come on, don’t make me do all the work,” she said, smirking at him.

Returning her grin, he told her, “I was distracting them while you lined your shots up.”

Oh what? You don’t like it when I do the voices?  Fine, Hawke, you do yourself since you know yourself so well, Red, you do Athenril since I can’t hit the high notes. Well, if you’re both going to be like that, no more dialogue. Wet blankets.

Anyhow, you can pretty much guess how that fight went, and eight or nine corpses later, Hawke, still gripping to that case like his life depended upon it – and let’s face it, it probably did – hobbled his way along the waterfront. It was clear that unless they found a boat they’d never make it out of Ostwick. Neither of them being sailors, they settled on a dinghy they cut loose from a docked caravel, slipping between the ships until they made it to the coast.

Well, Ostwick and Kirkwall, different as day and night as they are, do share a common problem, namely big horny men along the shore. Turns out they’re even thicker with Tal-Vashoth than here, because their kinsmen decided to start spreading the Qun at Ostwick, and over time more of them got disillusioned of their ethos, and so they’ve got a worse infestation of wandering, directionless, ox-heads on their stretch of the Wounded Coast.

Wandering and directionless as Hawke and Athenril were at this point, it was pretty much inevitable, really, that they would run into them, and so they did. A camp full of dozens of them wasn’t all that far down the coast, and wounded as Hawke was, there was no way they could fight their way out of that one, so they did the only thing they could think of.

Namely, surrender.

After convincing her of that very point, he crouched down to the valise whilst maintaining eye contact with their leader the whole time and popped open the secret compartments, pulling out the enriched lyrium as it shone in the night. Turning to the saarebas to see their reaction, the leader nodded in approval, gesturing to one of their tents.

And, well, what happened that night, after she tended to his wounds, I leave as Hawke’s prerogative.

They left the next morning on a fishing boat headed for Kirkwall, having impressed upon its captain that they were more trouble than any bounty was worth, with no lyrium, no mages, and no gold, but a fine story to tell and memories of living it up in Ostwick that would last a lifetime. And that, Red, is the story behind that poster on your desk.

“Hawke?”

Varric and Aveline turned to their mute companion. He hadn’t moved an inch since Varric had finished spinning his tale, just sitting quietly in his chair in front of the table and gently tapping at the poster lain upon it. Blinking in silence, he eventually looked back up at them.

“Hm? Oh, right,” he said, “Well told, Varric. Very discreet, very tasteful. Just had to mention my impromptu roof dive though, didn’t you?”

“Well, it does explain why you handed it over to the Tal-Vashoth without a fight.”

“I suppose it does,” Hawke murmured.

Aveline looked over to him concernedly. “Are you feeling all right, Hawke?”

“I’m always all right, Aveline,” he said, standing up. “See you at the Hanged Man tonight? Drinks are on me, and not just Varric’s. Thanks for reminding me of, well, simpler times.”

“I’ll let you know, Hawke,” she said. “We do have a bit of a lull at the moment, hence the social calls. And, well, thank you both. I suppose that is one story I’d been waiting to hear.”

With that, Hawke and Varric, the former still oddly silent, left the Guard-Captain’s office.

“Funny thing,” Varric told the Seeker some unspecified time in the future, “when Aveline came back the very next day that poster was missing from her desk. Some of us say it was next seen pinned to a wall in the Hawke Estate, some say it flittered its way to the Red Lantern district after that, but there’s no way to know one way or another now.”

Cassandra groaned and asked, “Was any of that the truth, dwarf?”, pinching at her slightly throbbing forehead as she did so.

“Well,” Varric said, “it does explain why Hawke remains persona non-grata over in Ostwick, statuette of limitations or otherwise.”

“I suppose it does, at that,” she said. “But is the Champion of Kirkwall really such a…sentimental creature?”

“Lady Seeker,” he asked as he innocently raised his palms, “aren’t we all?”

Letting forth another disgusted noise, Cassandra said, “Absolutely not.”

Still, she too was quiet for a long time before resuming her questioning, idly tracing circles on her copy of The Tale of the Champion with her fingertips as Varric discreetly swiped a drink of grog from her mug. Stories were hard work.

@dadrunkwriting