#literally how the fuck is she still employed

[autobahnmp3]

i hate my coworker yk The coworker

[fellhellion]

90s run PAD has this rlly annoying trend where he very often write a female character being in love w miguel and suddenly her entire character shrinks down to the scope of what drama this provokes and it's near continually in service to the narratives of men (Gabriel and Miguel interpersonal drama for example). even when there are actually interesting things to be mined from this angle like w lyla its like. this is a pattern w you dude.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter one | formula one imagine

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

chapter one: an offer you can refuse

years of solitude has led y/n y/ln down a dark path following her career-ending injury in 2022 but one rookie seems dead set on bringing her back into the fray

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

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“have you seen this?”

it’s too early in the day to be subjected to twitter in y/n’s opinion, but her manager - the one she’s always insisted in not needing - insists upon it. sara’s hand shakes as she hands over her phone, the video already playing loudly.

the video is a poorly clipped together compilation of kimi antonelli, for no better word, gushing about her. it’s earnest and even cute, but not cute enough. the formula one paddock was a vulture pit, one y/n had only escaped three years earlier with her life - barely.

“it’s cool. that’s all it is though,” y/n moves towards the door, picking up her coat and refusing to turn back towards sara, “i’ve told you since jenson insisted i hire you, there’s no way in hell i will ever go back to that paddock. and that’s the end of it, please. i’ll do any stupid vitamin ad or female empowerment talk if it makes you happy, but i can’t go back there.”

y/n grabbed her keys and left the apartment, leaving sara in her wake. sara reached into her pocket and pulled out a tattered letter with ‘y/n’ scrawled on the front in awful handwriting. she left it on the kitchen island and left, understanding this was likely to be her last time in this apartment - there's stupid and there's what she was doing right now, there was no way she would still be employed in the morning.

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girlsonthegrid

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 103,478 others

tagged: yourusername

girlsonthegrid: today we look back at the biggest what if for women in formula one - y/n y/ln. the 26-year-old drove for mclaren from 2020 to 2022 before she sustained a career-ending injury at silverstone. y/ln was the first ever female f1 race winner with her emphatic victory at monza in 2021 and the first ever female formula 2 champion with her win in 2019. her career lasted just 30 races and she hasn't been seen in the paddock or around any drivers since the crash. there have been reports that she has been approached about a mentor role but considering how fast her management rejected and shut down sky sports about a commentary role, this is also unlikely. what would you like to see from her if she ever comes out of hiding?

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user1: i mourn for her everyday

user2: the way she paved the way for so many but can't stand to be in the paddock to see what she did for the sport

user3: i really don't blame her

user4: doriane is the mercedes reserve and abbi is alpine's! her work is there even if she isn't and i know i'll always be grateful for that

user5: she's so overrated, if she didn't crash she still would've been out of formula 1 by now

user6: me when i'm the most wrong ever

user7: i can't believe there are still men to this day that think she wasn't great? literal world champions like max, lewis, fernando, seb and jenson have all said that she could've won a championship

user8: i mean no shade to lando but i think y/n would've made it 100x harder for max this season in that mclaren

user9: the way jenson tried to say that in the nicest way possible in las vegas lol

user10: and max agreed with him LOL

user11: the way it wasn't even proper lando shade or oscar shade like twitter painted it to be but like max just praising his bestie

user12: he does not play about her as he should

user13: i mean he's the only one we know y/n still actually talks to

user14: i can't wait for the tell-all biography that exposes half the grid because like how much have you must have fucked up for her to never speak to you again

user15: when twitter likes were public she was caught liking a bunch of tweets bout mick when he got his first points so like she doesn't even have hard feelings to the guy who put her in the barrier sooo

user16: it was proven it was break failure???? mick did nothing wrong that's why she still likes things praising him

user17: that crash really robbed us of the best ever f1 relationship with y/n and lando

user18: you know that's part of the reason that she doesn't speak to lando right?

user19: because she wished it was him not her?

user20: NO! because she hated that whole 'ship'

user21: and lando leaned into it way too much

user22: it made me a bit uncomfortable and i'm not even y/n

user23: AND she said on the beyond the grid podcast that she thought those rumours were really reductive and relegated her to just a love interest of her teammate rather than a race winner

user24: kimi antonelli please bring her back to us

user25: praying she'll listen to the literal child

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and max verstappen (italics)

did u give them my fucking address

my lawyer says to always deny everything?

i also actually have no idea what you are talking about…

i just got home and there’s a fucking letter from KIMI ANTONELLI on my kitchen counter

it’s creepy and a mad invasion of privacy

i did NOT give them your address?

i gave them sara’s contact details so they wouldn’t be able to directly get to you and i honestly thought she would be too scared to ask you

she showed me all the clips of him praising me.

it didn’t work.

it’s been three years y/n…

and it still hasn’t been long enough.

all i’m saying is read the letter, as creepy as it might be, he is just an 18 year old entering the lion’s den you could at least reply to him even if you don’t take up the offer

although i read they were going to pay you £10 million a year??? was that real?

unfortunately it is very real.

i didn’t think i was still worth that much

you are worth that and more, just give him a chance. we’ve both met him, he’s a sweet kid.

for now.

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it was cold in her apartment, y/n hadn’t shut the window from when she opened them that morning. in fact she hadn’t moved from the kitchen since she set eyes on the letter. it was bold she’d give him that.

the letter was crumpled as if it had gone through hell to get to her (it probably had) and the handwriting was a serious reminder of just how young kimi is. y/n had wondered if her maternal instincts would ever kick in like all the older women in her life insisted it would. sure she had felt intense feelings of love for her childhood cats and had cared her formula one cars (regina and heather, they were named after mean girls, because that is who they had to be on track) like they were children. but that true maternal feeling had never come to her, until now.

all y/n could think about was kimi. how young he was, how much he was set to lose. not everyone was her, the worst thing wasn’t going to happen to everyone - it just always seemed to happen to her.

her loud phone alarm jolted her out of her daydream, reminding her to take her painkillers. as she poured herself a glass of water, y/n slammed down the glass and ripped open the letter.

dear miss y/n y/ln my name is andrea kimi antonelli and i am going to be driving for mercedes amg f1 team in 2025. we met very briefly after i won all three races at mugello and lifted the italian f4 championship trophy. i know you were there on mclaren PR but for me it changed my life. you have always been my biggest inspiration alongside michael schumacher (i am italian, you must understand). it was always my dream to race alongside you and maybe even be teammates, i’d even betray toto and leave mercedes to make that happen (please don’t tell him i told you that). i know that can never happen now, but it could happen in another way? i know like me you grew up seeing niki lauda supporting and mentoring the mercedes drivers and i was wondering if you would be my mentor - who cares about george anyway. i know you’ve never come back to the paddock and are unlikely to do so for little old me. but if you could just think about it that would be great, if you don’t ask, you’ll never get! i hope this letter wasn’t horribly offensive, i mean it when i say you’re my favourite!!! love, kimi (p.s. i was at monza 2021, so you could even consider me a good luck charm) (p.p.s you won monza 2021 completely on merit but i was there) (p.p.p.s please don’t think i’m an idiot) (p.p.p.p.s i also loved interlagos 2020 that’s a super underrated drive)

with tears in her eyes, y/n placed the letter back on the counter, grabbed the glass of water and made her way to her bedroom. painkillers taken with a wince, she still hadn’t gotten used to the size of the pills even three years into taking them, y/n shuffled under the duvet.

the offer was there and it seemed sincere. her accountant would tell her that the money was worth the mental turmoil, even if she just did it for one season and returned to her little cave in west london.

there was no doubt she felt something for kimi - a kinship, a frienship or a maternal yearning - but was it worth ripping off all the bandages and opening herself back up to all the scrutiny again?

she would sleep on it.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and 10,567,388 others

yourusername: much to think about these days. like how the fuck this app works now?

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user1: first post in three years and it’s THIS?

user2: i am not complaining

user3: i am savouring every little piece in case she goes missing for another three years

mclarenf1: the queen has returned

user4: no thanks to you

user5: how about we keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth

user6: socials admin i know it is not you specifically but i really don’t know how you can post up here like you’re completely absolved of your involvement in this. your car had break failure that broke her fucking back - it is a miracle she is even still walking! and you still don’t accept any responsibility for it

user7: i love y/n but like how is it mclaren’s fault? break failure happens all the time?

user8: well it’s in one part the fact that they were using her as a test dummy because it was a new faulty part that mclaren was experimenting with that was on her car and NOT lando’s and the fact that to this day when they feel like it they’ll heap guilt onto mick schumacher

user9: without being disrespectful there were two formula one careers that were ended that day because mclaren have kept to the narrative that it was mick that put her into the barriers eventhough siedel admitted when he left mclaren that it was a faulty break part that caused it.

user10: clock it

user11: yes clock it but maybe on a different post because it’s y/n’s return to the internet and all yall can talk about is the most traumatic event in her life?

kimiantonelli: i also love clairo

user12: what is bro doing?

user13: be quiet he’s our best hope of y/n coming back to the paddock let him cook

user14: name three songs local

kimiantonelli: bags (live), alewife and blouse

user15: this motherfucker might just do it

maxverstappen1: i miss brando :/

yourusername: you know my address

yourusername: use it since you like to give it out so much

maxverstappen1: I DID NOT GIVE THEM YOUR ADDRESS

user16: y/lnstappen friendship is BACK

user17: it was never gone?

user18: but now we get to see it :P

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when she woke the next morning, y/n knew she had to read the letter again before jumping into anything. in her sleep she was plagued with memories of the past, but not the usual ones that haunted her in the dark. there were no flames, no hospitals, no career-ending injuries. no, this time she was transported back to 2020 and her first few races of her formula one career.

march 2020.

the paddock was much bigger in formula one than it had been in formula two with hundreds more people running around, barging through crowds, hitting y/n on the way through and not even stopping to apologise. she had thought briefly that she would be making more noise as the first female racer to take part in a race since forever - y/n even thought that she’d made a bit of a splash during preseason testing, nestled between her teammate lando and alex in the red bull in fifth.

but she was invisible. even with the garish orange path to follow to the mclaren garage, y/n struggled to get through the crowds of people brandishing their paddock passes. her trainer had gone ahead to set up her driver room which left y/n to push through and arrive to briefing ten minutes late.

“i’m so sorry, i got lost and by the time i was going in the right direction the paddock had filled up?”

y/n stammered, not quite able to make eye contact with zak brown. the american wasn’t tall in comparison to the general public but he towered over y/n and the disapproving stare didn’t do much to help.

“just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

zak snipped, waving his hand in y/n’s direction, telling her to take a seat. y/n rushed to the nearest empty seat and looked for her teammate in the room. lando was sat just three seats to her right on a small table. y/n tried to make eye contact with lando but he avoided her gaze like it was burning him, so much for the ‘big brother’ act he had put on at the car launch.

the engineers stood in front of the screen and started their long-winded presentation about the prospects for the season ahead. y/n pulled her note book out and frantically started taking notes, she didn’t know if that was normal for formula one drivers, but knowing as much as possible couldn’t hurt.

y/n copied down the warnings about possible tyre wear in turn three when she heard some soft sniggers, like someone was trying to stifle their laughter. this drew y/n out of her focus on the presentation, looking around the meeting room to locate the perpetrator.

lando caught her eye immediately. he had a light blush across his face and his mouth was covered by his hand. he looked guilty, guiltier than the rest of the room who were listening intently to the engineers. y/n raised her eyebrow in question.

“i’m sorry are we distracting you two?”

zak interrupted the presentation, turning to look at y/n and lando.

“no, sorry sir,” y/n replied turning her chair back to face the screen. “lando?” zak pressed.

“i’m sorry zak but y/n was distracting me with her note-taking,” lando forced out between his boyish giggles. “i’ve never taken notes, i didn’t realise you would be sucking up to the engineers this early on?”

“i’ve always taken notes? is it a problem? i’m sorry if i was distracting you lando.”

“yeah we’ll see how much those notes help you on track, rookie.”

lando spat over the table. it was uncharacteristically mean for the lando she had seen in the mclaren social content and the lando she spoke with at the car launch. y/n felt tears prickle in her eyes but she swallowed them down, she couldn’t cry yet - or at least not in view of all the most important people on the team.

“right. we’ll get back to business then.”

the rest of the meeting went by in a blur for y/n, but despite the outburst from lando, she continued to take her notes, she would be damned if some comments from lando would fuck up her entire race weekend routine. y/n took her time when zak dismissed them from the meeting, not wanting to look unprofessional.

moving towards the door, y/n’s shoulder hit someone else’s. she looked up to make eye contact with lando yet again.

“you better not make a habit of making contact with me, rookie,” lando said, a slight smirk but a harsh look in his eyes.

“are you like okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” lando replied pushing past through the door.

“i don’t know, you’re just a little frosty this morning? did i do something?”

“why would i be thinking about you, seriously? this is my team, know your place and we’ll get on just fine”.

with that lando was gone and y/n was left puzzled. i guess PR really does work wonders, y/n thought before making her own way to her drivers room.

her trainer, luca, wasn’t there when she managed to locate the room but all of her gear was already neatly put away like they had discussed. y/n cracked open an electrolyte drink and opened her notebook to study the meeting points.

there was a loud knock at the door and before y/n could even utter a “come in”, the mystery visitor barged into the room. daniel ricciardo announced his arrival with a packet of tim tams thrown at y/n and a quick “howdy” before he started rifling through her stuff and studying her helmet.

“ah, another cool dude who has a cuddly guy on their helmet,” daniel said, picking up her helmet, pointing at the cartoon version of her childhood cat.

“oh that’s schumi, when we travelled for karting we always brought him up until he died of old age, but i still want him with me whenever i race.” y/n said, nervous that the heartfelt explanation would be deemed uncool by one of the coolest racers she had ever seen.

“oh that’s surprisingly cute, i bet schumi was a big hit in the paddock back in the day.”

“he sure was, he’s how i charmed max into not hating me after i took him out once,” y/n chuckled thinking back to the race where max stormed up to her with angry tears in his eyes until y/n practically threw schumi at him. in just five seconds, max had calmed down and schumi was happily purring in the young dutchman’s lap.

“that sounds like max. but speaking of the other young whippersnappers in the paddock, how is our lando treating you? i bet zak and that can’t keep up with you two…” daniel asked, slumping to the floor, taking one of her drinks from the mini fridge.

“oh. i am getting used to him, we’ll put it that way?”

“he’s not being rude is he?”

“no! well. he insists on calling me rookie and keeps making comments about me crashing into him and made fun of me taking notes in briefing but i’m sure that such the british banter.”

“you’re british?”

“well. um. yeah, you got me there.”

daniel grabbed her hands, forcing y/n to look him in the eyes rather than her very interesting shoes.

“i know lando is like some media darling, but so are you. don’t let him push you around, he may have been in this team a while but you’re just as good as him if not better. you’re here to prove yourself, not to play second fiddle, okay?”

it was the first time someone had actually tried to talk to her properly since getting to the paddock. again, tears climbed to her eyes, but this time she let one creep out. daniel wiped it away.

“we made the mistake of isolating max when he was young and new, we won’t make the same mistake - we can’t have two of you running rampant around here,” y/n let out a wet laugh which daniel returned, “just come to renault if you need anything from me. max will be there for you, you know, and seb, kimi, fernando and all the old men will listen to you. don’t rot in your drivers room or hotel suite and think you’re not wanted here.”

y/n nodded, feeling some butterflies in her stomach. she was actually here - a formula one driver. a seven-time race winner wants her here, world champions want her here. a private-school fuckboy wasn’t going to ruin her first ever race weeekend.

“thank you daniel.”

“i have to dash, but i’m serious, we’re here for you. and i would be honoured to kick that little shit’s ass for you, okay?”

the australian left in just as loud fashion as he came, but in the remaining silence, y/n finally felt some peace. this was her chance, and she wasn’t going to mess it up.

present.

y/n couldn’t let that happen to kimi. the young italian was just so unbelievably earnest in his letter that y/n couldn’t bear the thought of his kindness being taken advantage of. george russell had never been outwardly callous but with his attack on max late last season and his complete radio silence with y/n since her crash made her suspicious.

as she prepared to ask max for kimi’s number, sara (who did actually still have a job) sent her a link.

sara: zak brown believes mclaren has the strongest pairing on the grid with no more childish recklessness like in the early 2020s

sara: do you want us to put out a statement or ignore as usual?

y/n clicked on the link, even though she knew it would just annoy her to the point that her phone might become closely acquainted with the thames.

as the formula one world gears up for the 2025 season, zak brown has already stated his confidence for mclaren this season. the papaya team will be coming into the 2025 season as reigning constructors champions and lando norris and oscar piastri will be aiming to add the world drivers championship to that as well.

when zak brown sat down with us earlier this week, the mclaren ceo did not beat around the bush, stating that mclaren have the strongest pairing on the grid. with red bull promoting liam lawson in a test and, mercedes putting unproven kimi antonelli next to george russell and ferrari gambling with charles leclerc and lewis hamilton, brown might just be right.

in their journey to constructors champions, brown recognised that as a team they had straightened out all of their ‘growing pains’. this is exemplified in oscar piastri completing all laps in the 2024 season.

like they usually do, y/n y/ln’s particularly rabid twitter fans will probably detect some ‘shade’ towards the former driver. brown did touch on the prior mclaren drivers during his reign as ceo, saying that the team had some childish recklessness, but now they have a team that all know their place.

y/n y/ln hasn’t spoken about anything formula one related since her retirement, even forgoing the opportunity to congratulate the team that took the chance on her for winning the championship - something brown did not mince his words on off camera. brown lamented about y/ln’s silence, labelling her a brat and ungrateful for not still thanking him for allowing a woman to compete in formula one.

will mclaren make it back-to-back constructors championships? and will they sweep both championships this season?

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she needed that loud-mouthed american’s head on a silver platter. the letter had almost sucked her back into the world of formula one, only for the man who discarded her like a broken toy when his car had malfunctioned and smashed her and her career into a concrete wall to call her an ungrateful brat.

fuck him. fuck mclaren. and fuck that dumbass reporter for giving him the time of day.

y/n didn’t throw her phone from her balcony but pulled up her texts with max.

texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and max verstappen (italic)

have you read this absolute hogwash

zak brown believes mclaren has the strongest pairing on the grid with no more childish recklessness like in the early 2020s

i 100% get why you wanted to put him in a wall last season

you watched last season?

shut up not the time

did you text me just to call your old tyrannical boss a fraud?

i was going to ask for kimi’s number but now i’m back at square one

noooooooo

i want to be there for him, the way no one was for us.

but this is the bs they write about me when i haven’t been seen or heard from in three years, imagine the shite they come up with when i’m the paddock every weekend

WHEN?

no no no

i’ll give you kimi’s number

contact: kimi antonelli (mercedes)

you decide what you want to do

as much as i would kill to have you around the paddock again… even in the vicinity of george

i want you to do what you are comfortable with

thanks max

i’m not giving you a yes but i’m definitely thinking about it

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fin.

note: omg that's part one??????? i had this idea and have been planning and adding to it for a couple days. no spoilers but there will be multiple love interests, backstabbing and all that lovely stuff - i just love the drama !!! (yes i will finish guilty as sin at some point as well). i hope you enjoy the prose as well - first time writing that way on here lol ?! let me know if you liked it, who you'd like to see her with and what you'd like to see happen!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Derpsheep; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Does Superboy still think you’re actually an actual cryptid city spirit thing?” Steph says, staring incredulously at him. “Did he think that when he made you the diamond? The heart-shaped diamond?��� 

“. . . uh,” Robin says, still wincing. “He kind of just . . . showed up with it? Like. We never, uh, actually met before that? But uh, he knows the Bats kind of . . . stalk people, sort of, so I think he thinks it’s like our love language or something, so, uh, he was doing that? Apparently? And then he stopped Catwoman from robbing a museum and dropped her off on me and, uh. Had the diamond. And, uh. Gave it to me.” 

Steph stares at him a lot more incredulously. Then she grips his arm so she can shake him, just a little. Or a lot. 

She maybe nearly knocks over their froyo, but not the point, okay? 

“Robin, is Superboy a monsterfucker,” she demands. “Robin, you have to tell me if Superboy’s a monsterfucker. You can’t not tell me if Superboy’s a monsterfucker!” 

“I don’t know!” Robin hisses at her, sounding mortified. “I mean, maybe?! But like, considering some of the people who Cadmus has made and employed over the years and the fact Supergirl is literally protoplasmic goop with a personality and he’s half-alien, I don’t actually know how to judge that, okay? Maybe he just doesn’t automatically expect people to look human, I don’t know! He looked right at the Batman while he wasn’t bothering to pretend to have bones and didn’t even get weirded out or anything! And he made me a diamond specifically because he figured birds like shiny things and he offered to make me a nest when he found out I sucked at it and he caught Nightwing and called him ‘ma’am’ when Nightwing told him he was a ‘ma’am’ and he stalked me because he thought I’d like it!  And like, I managed to convince the Batman that he’s not a new Robin but I think now he maybe thinks he’s a stray cat or something? He called him a kitten. And like, scritched him. And Superboy didn’t even get weirded out by that!” 

“Oh my god, what is your life,” Steph marvels, putting a hand over her mouth as she grins in disbelief. This is the funniest friggin’ comedy of bullshit errors that she has ever even heard of. “You and the monsterfucker teen idol superhero you pulled by being a creepy little fake cryptid weirdo. When I’m your best woman at whatever freaky alien/cryptid-themed wedding you have, I’m telling this story in my toast. Fuck that, I’m telling the tabloids.” 

“Please do not,” Robin groans, hiding inside his wings again. “Look, he’s really–he’s nice, okay? He just has no idea what normal people are like and he’s also, like, trying to deduce what city spirit bird cryptids would think was, I don’t know, romantic specifically so he can hit on me and it’s just–it’s a lot, okay?! It’s just a lot!”

[transhitman]

I’ve seen a lot of Mouthwashing lets players get confused when Curly laughs when Jimmy finds the gun. I wanna try my take, lemme know if I’m delusional or not.

There’s a short story by Juan Rolfe called “No Dogs Bark” about a father carrying his son’s corpse back to their village so he can receive a proper burial. The father talks to his son’s body as if the young man is still alive. Through context clues, the reader learns that because of the father’s emotional neglect, his son ran off to become a highwayman and that’s ultimately what got him killed. There’s a line in book where the Father seems to come to terms with his son’s death, his failure as a parent, and that the last futile gift he can give his son is to endure the suffering with carrying a decomposing body back to town without stopping to rest so the boy can be buried as soon as possible:

“I cannot think of a sentinel’s burden so Hellish and so fit for a man like me.”

The choice of the word “sentinel” always stayed with me. The duty of a protector, a duty that this Father clearly failed when his son was alive and can only fulfill with futility in death.

When the player finally sees Anya’s body and where’s she positioned in Curly’s line of sight/proximity; I think Curly would say those same words.

Rolfe goes into detail about how the Father’s human senses reflexively react to the smell and sight of decomposition: eyes watering, visceral nausea, and lightheadedness, but the Father does nothing about it and says that sentence with “anguished joy”. Curly has no eyelids to blink away his watering eyes, can’t pinch his nose from the smell, or tend to his nausea. Literally every protective measure his body would employ to withstand being in the vicinity of decaying flesh is removed from him.

The fandom can debate whether Curly karmadically deserved to be in a position where he cannot look away from Anya’s corpse/put into the pod, but I think, HE THINKS he deserves it. Once Jimmy has that gun -practically a monument of Curly’s failure to protect Anya- is when he finally accepts her death. This flawed-but-good man and captain who has failed to protect his crew, accepts this final sentinel’s duty of being the last survivor of the Tupalr dissent into chaos. And He accepts this duty with complete anguished joy.

Okaaay this is so interesting. I at first took Curly laughing as like. Kind of breaking as he realizes the gun was literally right here the whole time. It should have been obvious where Anya hid it. Literally right next to him all these months. God, the irony. But I really like the interpretation that it's the point where he realizes he's going to either die or be the last one alive, and that he has finally reached his personal hell. Cause like. Anya and Daisuke are dead. Jimmy has the gun now and either he'll kill Swansea and then himself (because let's be honest, Jimmy would not chose to live with himself after this and I think Curly knows it), or Swansea will overpower Jimmy and then put Curly out of his misery like he did Daisuke. And Swansea sure as hell isn't taking the pod for himself after everything. And Curly knows there's no other outcome. Everyone is going to die because of what he did and he deserves to bear witness. Cowboy Bebop endscreen You're Gonna Carry That Weight. Fuck that's such a good interpretation...

[plant-ago]

An Open Letter to Dan and Phil

Dear beloved nerds,

This was originally going to be an (even longer) actual letter that I was going to give to you at the tour, but my nonprofit-employed ass can’t afford a meet and greet, so we’re doing this instead. I promise it’s not just trauma dumping— mostly, it’s about saying thank you and trying to cultivate some hope for all of us.

I’ve been a big fan since around 2014, when I was a mentally ill neurotic deeply repressed loner egg (average phannie, let's be honest). Now I’m a whole adult who got therapy and HRT and has joined the legions of transmascs with the Dan Howell haircut! What a legacy.

I’m making jokes because the thing I actually want to talk about, and the reason I decided to make this an open letter, is kind of serious. But in light of the election, I feel like I need to share this, both with you and with all the other queers in this little corner of the internet.

Here’s the gist: I’m a paralegal at a non-profit organization that works to help queer migrants get asylum. Mostly what I do is sit them down in our nasty sterile office and try to be kind, and help them get through telling me all the most terrible things that have happened to them, and then turn around and pare it all down into legalese that is digestible to the government to make the case they should get asylum.

It’s a horrible job, really, and one that shouldn’t have to exist. Some parts are plainly wonderful, like meeting so many queer people from all walks of life. But it’s also heartrending and difficult, and burnout is always looming. My horrible banal work is often literally a matter of life and death for the client, and I’m fighting a broken system for a chance at giving them the happiness and safety is owed to them by international law and, really, by any decent human standard, should never have been in question.

The thing is—and this is reason to hope—queer people really do exist everywhere, no matter how much repression and violence we face. In a tiny village in Colombia, there's a kid who’s all spit and vinegar, dresses like a boy and plays football and fights anyone who says that they can’t, who grows up wiry and gets black eyes because men still can’t handle getting their asses handed to them on the soccer field by a dyke. This client texts me at my work number sometimes to ask if I’ve eaten that day, because they wanted to check in on me. He asked me to call him by a boy’s name, recently. I don’t know that he’s told anyone else. I open every message I send him with "Hola, James."

Then there’s the sweet, babyfaced college freshman who got death threats when he was outed to his classmates back home, and whose parents kicked him out when he refused to marry a girl to protect the family's reputation, leaving him alone in a foreign country. He was couch surfing and just trying not to miss class so he could keep his student status and he was so conscientious I wanted to cry— he’s eighteen, guys. Eighteen. I’ll get him his papers or so help me fucking God I will kill for him. You know? You know. After that meeting I had to sit at my desk with my notebook and fill an entire blank page with the phrase “he’s just a kid,” over and over again, until I felt like I could breathe.

On a Friday morning recently I get up and open my laptop to interpret on a call with a soft-spoken older trans woman who's sat in the bleak phone room of the ICE detention facility because her immigration judge didn’t believe that she was really transgender. “An odor of mendacity pervades everything the respondent says,” the judge wrote in her ruling, where she determined the client wasn't "credible." To this day I’m still floored that she straight up ripped off Tennessee Williams—new frontiers in bigotry, truly. She didn’t even cite. In our meeting now, the client quietly tells us how hard it was when she came out but how happy she was the first time she wore makeup, and she'd rather stay in detention here for indeterminate years as proceedings spiral on than go back to Guatemala, where they'll kill her—boys, if I ever get within spitting distance of this fuckass judge, it is on SIGHT. Absolutely fucking ON SIGHT. For legal purposes, that was a JOKE.

So I finish the call and get up to get a snack. It’s only ten am but feel tired already because I’m angry, which is not unusual but also not something I want to hold onto, because it doesn't help anything. So I make some toast and look at my phone— two texts, which I ignore, a spam email, and, wouldn't you know it, a YouTube notification from Dan and Phil games! Jarring! That’s just sort of how life is though, isn’t it? Deathly serious and lighthearted in the same breath.

But regardless, seeing the notification makes me feel warm, so I have my toast and watch a little video of you two playing Roblox or dress up or whatever it is you do on that channel these days. I have a good giggle and I finish my toast and go back to my desk. It’s a crucial part of my diet really— the giggles, not the toast. I’m not angry anymore. I’ll be angry again, but for now my cortisol levels are manageable and I can put my head back into emails or whatever the fuck. Do you ever think about how plants make food for free out of sunlight but we sit around writing emails all day? And that’s if we’re lucky. Capitalism is hell.

Anyway, there is a point I am trying to make, and it’s not really about the banal horrors of neoliberal nation-state or capitalism or even homophobia. It’s to say thank you for coming back to make silly videos together, because I love them, and you never fail to make me happy. And yeah, maybe something about the story of that scared eighteen-year-old kid at the front of my mind makes it particularly sweet to watch you two goofing off and being openly queer. It reminds me why I’m doing what I’m doing, and it gives me the strength to send another fucking email because sometimes doing “important work that I value and believe in deeply” means having to send another fucking email. And sometimes I’ll rewatch your older videos, and then come back to the more recent ones, and my heart bruises, because you remind me what I’m fighting for and why. It’s nothing grandiose, it’s just— for queer people to get to have the ability to grow into themselves and be outrageous and silly and make mistakes and to love and be loved for who they are. To have the safety and support and security that no one should ever go without. That’s all.

So I am being dead serious when I say thank you for making top-tier light entertainment, and for coming back to a job that wasn’t always kind to you, and that it does actually matter. All this talk about terrible influences and legacies has made me think that sometimes you doubt whether you do good in the world, so let me be clear: you really, really do. I kind of get the sense that in order to accept sincerity Dan needs to be beat over the head with it, so if that’s the case, consider yourself coerced, you dickhead. You matter to me, and especially in times like these, I think I speak for all of us when I say that the joy you share is a precious and treasured gift. So please accept my gratitude in return.

All my love,

Jules

(I removed or changed all identifying information in this letter to protect privacy, but the stories are real).

[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin Ep2: "Inside Man" Breakdown

(Episode 1) (Episode 3) (Episode 4) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

I think so much of this episode, to me, was about identity in our characters. And with Oz, you get to see all these different moments, all these different faces that he puts on, literally. You have the charmer at the party. You have the double agent, the two-faced liar. You have the man who's kind of, like, sucking it to Sofia, and trying to get in her good graces. You have honest Oz with Victor and how he's able to just be himself because he's let Victor into his life that way. And then you have the comforting Oz, which is with his mother.

And on the flipside we have Sofia, who is also in this place of identity, where she's come out of prison, she has the Hangman name connected to her. And society is telling her who she is, and her family is telling her who she is, and she's trying to define who she is within her family and within her place. And now that she's lost Alberto, she's lost a big part of her identity. The one person who truly loved her and stood by her side.

Like, we wanted this episode to really explore all the different pieces of these echaracters, and then also just to feel chaotic because with Oz - He's just like, a hair ahead of the next thing that goes wrong, and has to switch, you know, from moment to moment, so...

AMY: Yeah it's almost like he's the cartoon coyote who runs off over the cliff, but if he keeps pedaling, maybe he can pull this off. - -The Penguin Official Podcast, episode 2

Back when the first episode dropped, I had a friend reach out to me (a friend who, up until this point, never so much as entertained the idea of a Penguin not played by Danny DeVito) and tell me that it was shocking to see The Penguin painted as a sympathetic character, that the show went through such lengths to humanize the character and get us on his side and whatnot. Which, true, is part of what it's doing, I imagine a lot of people had a similar response. It is pretty great, then, that this episode is almost precision constructed to slap you in the face for thinking "oh this dude ain't so bad" after the first one, what a scumbag piece of shit Oswald is in this one, I love it

I get the sense that what's left of the plans they may have had for an Arkham series are gonna be coming through a bit in Sofia's arc, already establishing right off the bat what a ghastly place Arkham Asylum is, scar tissue on Sofia's soul that won't leave her alone.

Calling it right now that we're gonna pan upwards in the dream and see Oz shooting Alberto as soon as Sofia finds out.

I'm glad that they've made efforts to avoid dumb namechecks and references for the sake of it so I'm pretty confident Sofia's weird therapist won't turn out to be like, Jonathan Crane in disguise or secretly named Harlan Quinzel or something, but everyone's in unanimous agreement that this dude is sketchy as fuck and something is up with him. Dr Julian Rush is a supervillain name, nevermind the hypnosis lights and his behavior and that painting that looks like it was plucked straight out of The Riddler: Year One. You can make a Batman universe as grounded in realism as possible and Gotham City will still have cartoonishly ominous medical professionals.

"This man is a dog. But a dog can be made submissive." Spoken like everyone who's ever employed Oswald Cobb for anything. I like how Nadia and Sofia have the exact same view of Oz and where they think they stand with him.

Fuck yeah, Shohreh Aghdashloo, I was so excited when I heard she was announced for this, loved her in Mrs. Davis. The only problem with Clancy Brown and Shohreh Aghdashloo together on screen playing husband and wife mafiosos is that it should be incredibly hard to root for anyone else. If this wasn't the Penguin show, I would be extremely bummed out at anyone but them winning this gang war.

I really love this show turning not just Sal Maroni, but the Maroni Crime Family, into this totally distinct thing from the Falcones, I love the little tale they spin in the post-credits video about how these two met and exchanged their cultures and how Maroni formed his entire power base around her Persian gang and that's the gang that they form in Gotham nowadays. I would love it even if it was just an excuse to have Aghdashloo on the show, which it is, but it's also one of the many interesting nuggets of worldbuilding that they're adding here. It's also nice to have asian/middle-eastern characters in Gotham that aren't connected to the fucking League of Shadows, no connections to Fu Manchu and ninja squads and whatever.

In fact none of this Long Halloween/Falcone/Maroni shit has ever been as interesting as it is here in this saga, actually why bullshit around, most if not all of it has never been interesting period. Because this abstains so hard from using all the Batman comic elements people will turn up to the movies for, it has to make soup out of all the usually extremely barebones elements of regular Gotham crime, so that you will be invested in stuff involving like, Johnny Viti and so on, and it works, they're real characters now. This has to make people out of these guys like nobody's ever had to or tried before.

In fact here's another example of where the approach this universe takes to realism works: It's the first time in the show that anyone's ever said the word Penguin, and it's the first time anyone in this universe has called him Penguin to his face. Batman and Gordon kept calling him that amongst themselves, but never in direct conversation with him (closest they get is calling him a stool pigeon). And obviously you get why nobody does that openly to him, it's a crude and offensive way to refer to his disability, so obviously most people are not gonna call him that where he can hear it, especially when he already has a nickname via "Oz". So when Johnny Viti steps out here out of the blue and calls him "Penguin!", you get holy shit, what the fuck is your problem. Instantly communicates the sheer disdain and disrespect, and crucially the power over Oz, that this guy has to be calling him that in public like this. And you get to feel Oz bottling up the rage he takes at that offense. They don't have to make a thing of it, it lasts like a second, but it's a harsh reminder of how much that name stings, and so it gains weight like it never really had before.

Ah, the lovely Sopranos school of playing licensed music to signal people are about to die horribly, can't get enough of it.

I love that two episodes in the show has already established an extremely fitting routine for how Penguin does things: he spends a long time prepping schemes and setting up dominos to fall so he can ascend in the ranks, everything blows up, and then he has to scrape and struggle to slip away from the fire via additional long-term schemes and spur-of-the-moment bullshit and sheer luck, ultimately succeeding in securing an advantage but also putting himself in greater risk. Everything he does is the next step in a master plan and him shooting himself in the foot, it's just perfectly Penguin. Even when he wins, he still loses, and vice versa.

Of course Oz used to be a barback who bullshitted his way into becoming a driver with a stolen car, and of course his old boss just happened to be a rat who got shot in the head. Who would have guessed that Oz' boss got killed, just like his old boss, and his old boss that came after that one. We can talk about a lot of the ways in which Penguin emerged practically fully formed in his debut, but it turns out there was another one I had neglected. From his first appearence to 83 years later, dude just cannot stop killing his bosses.

Oz's relationship with his mother continues to be fascinating and heartbreaking and I dread how much hurt this is gonna pile on the two of them and us alike as audience members.

Oz planting Castillo was so fucking scummy and also so much smarter. Of course if he planted Viti people would be onto him because of the attack, of course Viti still had enough room to defend himself especially with the Maronis seizing Oz's blackmail. Nobody would suspect Castillo, and nobody would look deep into Castillo, and Castillo being gone only isolates Sofia enough to drive her right into Team Penguin.

"We all gotta make sacrifices, pal"

Love Sofia's tiger suit, love Sofia's wardrobe here in general.

When I say that the Falcones/Maronis/etc have never been a tenth as interesting as they are here I am very much including Sofia in this. I like Sofia Gigante as a design, but even when I assumed nothing terribly interesting would be done with Sofia here, I still said they had very good reasons to not replicate that design here, and this episode illustrates another one: Sofia Gigante is not someone people would dismiss and badmouth within earshot of her. Nobody sensible would dare not give her the reigns of the family if she wanted them. Sofia Gigante is not really a character so much as she's a menace for Batman/Two-Face to be up against. She is the inscrutable monster that Gotham City has projected onto this Sofia and is already treating her as.

Sofia isn't just dealing with the struggle of being a woman left alone in a fiercely patriarchal hierarchy as well as mental illness without proper support and with her peers ostracizing her with disdain and fear (and over something she may not even have actually done), she is dealing with the fact that society has branded her a Batman Villain and treating her as such. She is the scary new threat to be afraid of in Gotham, the psycho in the papers, the latest mutant atrocity born from corruption and crime, denied dignity and personhood at every turn and thus driving her to salvage what little she can in the only way she can, the only way anyone in Gotham can: turning the tables and exherting power and fear over others instead.

Best exemplified by that scene with her friend and that little girl. She's approached for the first time since she returned by someone who's treating her as a friend and a peer, talking about casual friend things that she hasn't heard in ages, and then one little interaction drives a veiled knife the deepest into Sofia's heart, so in turn she drives one back, and flaunts the power she has as a monster.

Love that scene where they bring Evrad to her and she's very clearly upset at having her brother's wake interrupted / reminiscing the way Alberto was brought to her on the back of a car, but deciding fuck it, bring him to the basement. Love all the ways this episode establishes Sofia as our other protagonist moving forward.

Kay could see how Michael stood to receive their homage. He reminded her of statues in Rome, statues of those Roman emperors of antiquity, who, by divine right, held the power of life and death over their fellow men - The Godfather, by Mario Puzo

Greatly enjoyed this reversal of The Godfather ending shot they've done with her, the don closing the door on the woman excluded, except we're inside the room the whole time as it closes, and it is she who is framed by opulent surroundings, it is she who gets to be framed in comparison to Roman statues the way Michael Corleone was in the book. We know who is the real don of this family framed behind the closed door.

"I'm not safe. I'm home."

I know Vengeance is not showing up here, but now I actually do want to see an interaction between the two of them. Prince and princess of the city, the broken children of Arkham, grappling with a loss that's hollowed them out and an intertwined city-reshaping legacy and a separate name consuming every facet of their life. She isn't even really a Batman villain here and I already think she's an excellent Batman villain.

For so much of her life up to this point, all she had to do was endure the nightmare only so long as it took to rejoin her brother and return safe to the protection of the family, in the kingdom which belonged to them. And now her brother is gone, murdered by someone within the family, the kingdom stones her at every turn, and she has no one to count on but the family dog nipping on her heels.

On some level, she knows he can't be trusted, she knows he's lying, but there's nobody else on her side left. Nothing else to lose. She's fallen, and in the bottom she can now join the man who's been there for as long as she's known him Or at least, the man who used to be at the bottom, because now he's got someone else to be there instead.

Topping off the episode we get this snippet of Oz at his most openly monstrous so far, in appearence as he looms down on Victor and in attitude towards him, and it's delightfully fucked that for all intents and purposes, this is still him playing nice. Because even still, he's not just being cruel for cruel's sake, he's trying to get Victor to wake up, trying to teach him a lesson so he can stop choking and get used to the corpses, because this is what it's like to be The Penguin's Robin. That he has a motive to be doing this doesn't make it any less of a horrible fucking thing to do, and it doesn't make it any less cruel, because it isn't just about reprimanding Victor and teaching him a lesson, is it? Nothing's only ever one thing with Oz.

Not when he starts off saying "Lay down, where you belong". Not when he's taking the moment to vent about how Carmine treated him in the same breath he's comparing his relationship to Carmine with the one Vic has with him. You can’t have power over someone without putting them down, without demeaning them. Somebody's gotta be at the bottom. Somebody's gotta dig up the grave. And to the rest of the Falcones, that is still Oz, but now there's someone else down there in the shit and Oz is the one putting him there.

I think maybe my favorite thing about this episode, in terms of how it contrasts the previous one, is that everything Oz does here to get ahead is predicated on exploiting/backstabbing people who are on the same position he's in, if not lower. It's easy to root for the guy when he shoots Alberto Falcone, and desperately selling out some random kid to buy himself seconds to live against Sofia is not ideal but hardly that damning. But this episode ups the ante by giving Oz a bodycount of 5-8 people, most of which are directly and even gruesomely murdered by him, and all of them were people in the same position he's in that relied on him.

The guys at the truck that used to work with him at the warehouse and were laughing at his jokes seconds before ("Oz you fucking traitor!"), Ervad the Maroni ally who played his part at the truck hijacking and was willing to sell out Viti even under risk of death, Castillo the guy whose testimony bought him goodwill before Sofia, none of these are people Oz has any kind of moral highground over, none of these are the people keeping Oz down, none of these people had revenge coming their way (...I mean okay Castillo did torture Oz last episode under Sofia's orders, but nothing Oz did to him here was motivated by that), and none of that mattered. You could also argue he's backstabbing Eve and the girls, even if not intentionally - he gave her name to Sofia as an alibi, Eve has no idea how right she is to be scared of Sofia finding out and how much Oz is bullshitting all of them.

Victor's yet to figure out that being on Oz' good side, making jokes with him and doing what he asks and having his back, will not save you from being killed for him or by him if that's what it takes for him to survive. Like he says in one of the promos: No such thing as good or evil, only survival.

Working 9 to 5 was a perfect anthem to close out the first episode and to associate with Oz, but one that's stuck in my head even more is the one used to close out this episode, the Floor Cry cover of Happy Together. It feels like such a perfect song to close out this episode and herald the start of Sofia Falcone's new journey, it's her theme and it stuck with me.

Out of all the things I could have expected about The Penguin going in, Sofia Falcone becoming one of my favorite Batman characters was definitely not one of them. She can strangle and torture whoever she wants, who cares, god forbid women do anything.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Rivalry To Romance

velvette x f!reader

Summary: You worked in cosmetics at the Vee tower alongside Velvette, unfortunately you’ve never gotten along. You found her obnoxious and she found you to be a pest. However you struggle with yourself on whether you truly hate her or just can’t accept your true emotions.

Warnings: Fem reader, reader throws things again so does velvette, valentinos presence yuck, suggestive but nothing serious. No mention of readers hairtype, bodytype or skin colour, shorter than i originally wanted womp but I think that’s it but lmk

Word count: 2.5k

we need more velvette i love her so much and there’s like no info on her character or back story at least that i could find woomp womp im trying clear up what i have drafted but sheesh im so picky and a perfectionist about it i wish i was a writing machine that it could come directly out of my brain like i see it y’know?

“I fucking hate her!” You screeched tossing make up across the room at your assistant. “Please, calm down, my head hurts.” Angel whined from your couch as you paced around him, your assistant booking it after the second thing, that being a vase, was thrown.

“I can't, she's intolerable, seriously. A brat.” You grit plopping down onto the cushion beside him. The two of you were in the Vee tower, you being what Velvette would call ‘the shadow of the vees’, you got in on the triangle based on accessibility; for the Vees that is. You were a cosmetic creator and produced varying products for demons of all kinds, not only was it beneficial for Valentino's pornstars but Velvette’s models.

When you were a self employed business it was still very lucrative, and getting around quickly. Gaining the opportunities to work with overlords, sinners you never expected as well as selling and gaining quicker than you could’ve imagined. It wasn’t long until Velvette had caught onto the rage, and that’s how you ended up in the tower working alongside her.

It was terrible from the start; you weren’t some meek little demon, yet Velvette treated you like you were some Imp! You hated her bratty, disrespectful loud mouth and you never failed to let her know.

BIting your nails down too low without realizing, Angel grabbed your hand successfully stopping you, and leaned forward. “Hey listen I know how it is to have a sucky boss. Heh, literally.” Angel snickered to himself while you muttered that she wasn’t your boss. “But if i’m being honest, it sounds like sexual frustration,” He twiddled his fingers at you while a sly smile pulled at his lips.

You gaped at him, head falling forward in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me, hah, no fucking way dude!” You exclaimed, leaning back, you sighed frustrated at the conversation. “Oh shit, gotta go toots, boss is calling. Thanks for letting me up, see ya later.”

You waved by to Angel watching him go. Sitting with your elbows on your knees you stared off into space. Sure you suppose you admired her, sure, she was pretty, occasionally sure you’d check her out admiring how the clothes fit her, but that was purely platonic! Velv was a fashion designer, of course she knows how to accentuate her natural beauty.

And perhaps there were times when you couldn’t quite decide what you felt for her questioning your intentions second guessing your actions. Sometimes as you gazed at her while she worked, you wanted to ease her up a little, relax her from the stress whether that be from praise, a gentle rub or kiss, or something a little more promiscuous; you simply wanted to be her relief.

Other times you wanted to fight her and bitch her out, and then fuck her? You actually didn’t know and it drove you insane, but Angel was the first to spot the way you acted, overly aggressive.

You groaned, frustration emitted from you very clearly as you tugged at your hair. Standing you walk quickly toward Velvette’s and yours’ work sections on the tower's mid floor. Velvette stood at a table when you walked in, she only barely turned her head to you, too busy studying fabrics and colours.

“What’s the pretentious brat got cooking today?” You say walking up beside her looking down at the table. Rolling her eyes she turned to you hand on her hip. “Can you piss off? I’ve got shit to do, real work, not lazing around with a whore.”

Rolling your eyes right back at her, you looked down to the table. “Angels no more of a whore than that filthy moth.” You muttered fingering the fabrics, eyes dancing around the blueprints for an outfit.

“What’re these for?” You ask, meeting her gaze, a bored look plagued her face, but she loosened up slightly at the mention of her work. “These are the new blueprints for our outfits for the upcoming broadcast Vox has planned. He wants to market tech, pornos, clothing and your cosmetics so everything’s gotta be right.”

Velvette looked down harshly at the things laid out in front of her, you could see the gears working in her head as her eyes flicked around the different blueprints, fabrics and rough drafts. You hummed, flicking through a particular set of blueprints that caught your eye. “I’m sure you’ll do great hun, always do.” You muttered absentmindedly, barely focusing on the praise that came from your lips.

Velvette’s head jerked back a bit, eyes watching you. She wasn’t expecting such softly said words to come from you so suddenly, but she definitely didn’t mind it. “Do you want something specific?” Looking toward her you shrugged, trying to ignore the yearning you had to be nearer.

“Just a dress, suppose the only request I have is that I look the part.” You didn’t mean for it to come off sad however, it did, and Velvette felt the rare sting of guilt ping past her heart. She was in fact the one who fought with you the most on who was worthy in the tower, but she always felt you were trying to replace her as “the guru”.

The fight you had earlier was present in your mind as you stood there, it was dumb another thing that sent you spiralling. You stomped off and straight into Angel, thank goodness for that because his presence calmed you surprisingly. The fight was about time slots with models, mainly because one model had been held up by Velvette because she was being a snooty princess again about what the model wore, meanwhile time was ticking on how much time you had to do said model's makeup.

Which ended up spiralling into a screaming cat fight, where you tossed things at her and she tossed them back slinging a slew of colour insults at you as she did so. Normally you and Velvette never apologised but as you stood there beside her looking over stuff you felt as though the moment of peace was close enough to an apology.

“Do you really wanna go to this?” You asked breathing in deeply, catching hints of her perfume that left a warm familiar feeling in your chest. “Hm not really, but we have to.” Picking up navy blue colours, she stacked the square fabrics together.

Swallowing you ask; “What’s your favourite colour?” Stunned Velvettes hands stalled their actions, her eyes meeting yours. You were waiting looking neutrally at her, you simply wanted to know. It was easy to see Voxs was arrays of blues, Val’s pink and red, you fancied emerald and sea greens, and her.. you didn’t know, hot pink?

“I fancy whites, purples, plums…” Trailing off finger to her mouth in thought, she nodded one sternly. “White and plum.” You smile ever so slightly it was a decent conversation for sure. But it definitely didn’t help you inner fight about your feelings for her.

~

Today was the day of the broadcast, the lot of you ventured to Valentinos floor of the tower, doing it up for a big show. There were tons of tables set up, lighting, cameras; the porn stars were done up thanks to you and Velv, they sat on a plush couch their section was going to be an ‘interview with the stars’ no doubt being entirely fake lies. Angel was a part of the cast, much to your dismay, you’d rather him be far from Valentino, but that wasn’t possible. Another area was new improved tech, with tech nerds ready to present and push the new models Voxtech had made.

Off to the back was Velvette’s section where various manikins stood cladded in Velvette’s best work, there were also models present around waiting to pose with the manikins. Your area felt blander than the rest, your cosmetics sat on varying different platforms that lifted them aesthetically, and you had a few head models with you, cameras focused in on only their eyes and lips for the occasional shot. In the middle of the room was where you, Velvette, Vox and Valentino would be.

The lot of you were going to be standing tall with wide smiles, the only one who was set to talk was Vox, the rest of you were just their to claim name to your things. Velvette was running around taking Sinstagram stories and pictures of everything around, building anticipation and hype for everything to come.

You watched her bounce around every now and again yelling at a worker or model about their place here, before getting back to puttering around. She wore a white dress with hearts at the bottom, and her hair was done up in a classic poof instead of her straightened pigtails. “Admiring the goods?” Angel asks, scaring the shit out of you, gasping you grabbed your chest in shock. “Fuck Angel don’t do that to me, and ye- wait what?”

Angel cackled an accusatory finger pointed to you. “Oh cmon! Even Val knows you’re into her, and that’s him.” You stared in disbelief before shaking your head no rapidly. “How would he even know? We barely spend time near each other, I hate him more than Velv.”

Angel scoffed, crossing two sets of his arms he leant against the wall next to him. “Please Velvette’s always ranting about how annoying you are over the phone, telling Val when Vox is probably too sicka her to hear it! Then she goes off saying how you can’t be nice and how you always make it a mission to come and pester er’ and Val said it’s because you wanted to fuck her!” Angel exclaimed slyly leaning forward into you and than backward away.

“That’s not true, we just can’t get along.” Like the devil heard your words, Velvette skipped up to you three, pulling the two of you into her. “Alright! The bitches! That’s more like it!” Velvette shouted, snapping a picture, Angel defaulted to his actor ways posing lustfully at the camera, meanwhile you just smiled unbelievably at Velvette. Once the picture was taken she wasted no time stepping back and sending off the post with a series of different hashtags.

“You look happy today?” You ask more than say watching Velvette smile around the room. “Of course people have stayed quiet, and not been a dickhead all day. Not to mention Vox and Val aren’t in moods.” You nodded in agreement, eyes casting briefly over to the TV who walked around checking the different cameras while Val smoked in the back.

Angel not so subtly snuck off giving your back a shove closer towards Velvette. Even if you could admit to yourself you felt more than platonic emotions for her, it would be extremely hard to accept it or attempt to make a move when you didn’t even know her sexuality.

She’d never seemed interested in Vox or Valentino, but you’ve not seen her eyeing women either. It made you more uncomfortable to ponder the future of accepting your feelings when you could just be cruel and ignore them. “What’s up with you spacey?” Velvette suddenly asked her phone off facing toward the floor.

You anxiously fiddled with your short dress wondering if now would be a good time to start something. “Nothing Velvette, just nerves i guess.” Velvette rolled her eyes, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You’ll be fine, always are anyways. We don’t do shit, it’s all Vox.”

Fair enough. Although that’s true it didn’t really matter considering it wasn’t what was really bothering you. “Are you straight?” You blurt suddenly, hand jerking upward to cover your mouth. Velvette’s eyebrow raised a ‘huh’ falling from her lips.

With a decision in mind, you couldn’t deny it, knowing that even Val saw something you know how you can’t hide it. The daydreams you have of her warm skin next to yours in the morning, the friendship you wish you had, the desire to have her lipstick smeared against your lips, wanting to post cheesy couple pictures together all over Sinstagram.

“Uhh, yeah, are you straight because I haven’t ever seen you around anybody, like, ahem, that.” You stutter out staring at her trying to gauge every little emotion on her face. “Suppose I could be considered, but i fuck who i want no matter the package.” She finally replied, returning to herself after spacing out, looking calmer than you.

“Would ya fuck me?” Scratching the back of your neck as her eyes scanned your face rapidly, trying to read you, trying to tell if you were serious. “Yeah, if you weren’t such a bitch.” You hum watching her once more, this time she looked a little meeker, shifting from foot to foot, her gaze casted downward.

“And what about love? Y’know not just wanting to have a hook up?” You asked a little apprehension evident in your voice, you craned your neck back trying to distance yourself subconsciously.

Softly you felt Velvettes gentle hand on your shoulder, focusing all your attention on her, you watched as her face turned out to the side, only looking at you through her peripheral. Her other hand crawled up to your other shoulder, before drifting softly to your neck, sending shivers down your spine and straight to your toes.

Velvette was still at fully extended arms length, so you stepped forward, cupping her cheeks gently like she was made of the fragilest material. Now eye to eye the two of you simply stared waiting, while invading eachothers space. Cautiously you leaned forward thankfully being her height, you hand your eyes closed already hoping she’d get the message, and either pull away running or indulge.

You were more than shocked to feel her lipstick covered lips meet with yours, soft yet eager. You kissed her back slowly, trying to convey the emotions and feelings you felt without speaking, the apology you wanted to say but didn’t know how.

Pulling you closer by the neck, you fell into her slightly, wrapping your arms around her like she was your world, fully absorbed in the passionate kiss you were sharing. Just as the kiss turned slightly heated, tongues introducing and slipping past the barrier of eachothers mouth Vox screamed. “You’ve got Velvettes makeup on your face, FUCK, why?! Why?! Five minutes before we’re live!” Jumping apart the two of you looked toward Vox who was already glitching out, meanwhile Val just stood smuggly sucking his pipe.

“Don’t worry he’s just mad that he now owes me one hundred dollars, losers weepers,” Val breathed his smoke wafting around the TV’s head. Velvette threw the bird at Vox before turning to you pulling out a handkerchief. “Weren’t you calling someone geriatric, now you’re pulling out handkerchiefs?” You teased, her hand coming up to wipe her black lipstick that stained your face.

“Oh piss off, or we’re both fired,” She scolded but there was no malice in her words like before making your heart flutter. “So how long before this gets out, our little before the air make out sesh?” You inquire as she handed the cloth to you, you wiping her smeared lipstick just as she did for you. “Based on the vibrations from my phone, not long.”

[storydays]

Radio Killed the Video Star P2

(3rd Pov)

*In the Vs' Tower*

"We have a problem." Vox grumbled as Valentino's assistant passed out their drinks. "Alastor is getting close to the royal Morningstars. So our main concern now is ensuring that no deal is ever struck between Lucifer's brats and that smiling freak." He rolled his eyes at the thought of the red demon.

"Well, how exactly are we supposed to stop it?" Velvette replied, looking up from her phone. "Put something inside them. That's how I get the bitches to behave." grinned Valentino from where he was decorating his gun.

"Well, maybe someone on the inside isn't such a bad idea." hummed Vox before he pointed at the moth. "Do you think Angel would?"

"That lanky prick won't even return my calls." scoffed Val.

Sighing, Vox stood up and walked around to the window. "We need someone who little Miss Bleeding Heart would take in."

"Someone pathetic, desperate, with no direct ties to us." Velvette listed. "I employ every down on their luck loser this side of hell. Who the fuck is left?" Valentino wondered. Vox chuckled before turning to his partners with his hypnosis eye glowing. "I think I have just the one." he grinned.

*Back at the hotel*

Alastor's shadow demon minons lounged around the bar, Tommy stretching his arm, having pulled a muscle, when Charlie and Vaggie came back from their search, defeat written on their faces. Charlie groaned dramatically as she flopped onto the couch, face first.

Angel perked up hearing the princess; "Sooo, how'd it go?" he asked, smiling and turning his attention to his phone. "Not a single new recruit," Vaggie sighed.

"Yeah, well, who would want to use their last days not fucking and fighting?" shrugged Angel. "More than you'd think, Angel." (Y/N) yawned as he walked down the stairs, Rocco trailing behind him.

After his mope feast in his room, the blond demon fell asleep reading one of his romance novels, and had slept for a good 6 hours. 'Great, now I'll be up all night.' (Y/N) thought to himself as he sat on the far end of the couch, running a hand through Charlie's braid in a comforting manner.

"Well, look who's finally awake. I missed you, baby. Did you dream of me, sweets?" Angel purred, leaning over to run a hand over (Y/N)'s wings, grunting when (Y/N) playfully fluffed his wings in Angel's face.

(Y/N) chuckled, feeling smug at finally getting the spider back. Angel wasn't one to be outdone, so he teasingly ran a finger between the prince's shoulder blades in the middle of his back, giggling at the involuntary shivers that ran through his body.

A sudden knock on the door turned Vaggie's attention from the men flirting, and approached the door, to reveal Sir Pentious, who smiled brightly. "Why, hello, my dear--" he yelped as Vaggie punched him in his face before pulling her angelic spear out and pointing it at him.

"Wait, wait, wait! I come in peasssse (peace)." The snake demon made peace signs with his hands with a wobbly smile.

"What are you doing here?" hissed Vaggie. "Vaggie, what's the problem?" asked Charlie, still feeling sour from her failed search.

She gasped seeing the snake. "Oh, hello again." Vaggie let him up as she watched him suspiciously. "I didn't come looking for a fight. I uhh..I heard that you're helping people. People who want to be better?" The snake asked more than stated.

Charlie gasped excitedly, before dragging the snake behind her, chattering happily, leaving Vaggie to scowl at the snake. "You heard right. Welcome to our home of healing. Our resort of restoration. Our--" The princess was cut off by Angel Dust stopping her in the door way.

"Are you fucking nuts? This chump was tryin' to kill us, like, literally 6 hours ago. And now you wanna bring him in her to live with us?" Angel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely!" Charlie grinned, "This place is about second chances, and who deserves one more than this...slithery...slippery...special little man?"

Looking at Vaggie, Angel asked, "Aren't you supposed to protect this place?"

Vaggie made the mistake of looking at Charlie's (well timed and manipulative) puppy dog eyes. She sighed heavily before shrugging, "I...guess he's not much of a threat without the war machine.." Sir Pentious' hood lifted as he grinned brightly, "Or even with the war machine." Vaggie thought, making the snake visibly deflate.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Charlie squealed before running over to the demon. "Sir Pentious! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!"

"Oh no, darling, thank you. You won't regret thissss." He chirped happily, slitheirng in after the princess.

"Eh, I give you a week...tops." Angel shrugged, following them inside.

"So..this is the bar and the bartender." Charlie grinned at a drinking, scowling Husk. "And this is the curtain, and this is the new wall after you broke the last one, heh and, oh, this, this is-" Charlie was cut from her excited rambling by Vaggie pulling her arm.

"Babe, you don't have to show him every detail." she placed her hand on her hip, watching the demoness.

"Sorry, I'm just excited to have our first real guest!" Charlie grinned.

"Uh, what the hell am I, then?" demanded Angel Dust, as he narrowed his eyes at Charlie.

"Well, you're an important part of our family here, Angel. But you um, uh..." "Constantly make us look bad, sexually harass (Y/N) and Husk, and have literally never once tried to improve?" Vaggie listed.

"What she means is, it's just nice to have someone be interested for a change." Charlie sugar coated, gesturing at the snake who eyed everything suspiciously.

She walked over to the red eyed demon, introducing Niffty, not noticing Angel's frown on his face. As Charlie continued to introduce Niffty, saying that they were 80% sure she was harmless, she bumped into the Radio Demon, she grinned nervously.

"Oh, uh, Alastor, our gracious Facility Manager." Turning to Alastor, she continued, "You've met our newest guest, Sir Pentious...heh heh."

"Ah yes. You're the one who ruined my coat. I definitely remember you now." He grinned sinisterly, eyes glowing an eerie red.

"Well...I guess this is a great time for your first lesson. Ahem, 'How to apologize.' The first step to becoming a better person is to admit when you're wrong. Why don't you give it a try?" Charlie pushed Sir Pentious towards Alastor who grinned lazily.

"Yes, um...Mr um..Radio Demon, sir, please forgive me for attacking you and ruining your very lovely coat...Um, here." He nervously gave back the piece he'd ripped off of Alastor earlier in the day.

"Oh-ho! Not many people have been able to take even this much off me." He looked at Sir Pentious with a condescending smile, "It must've meant quite a lot to you."

Sir Pentious and Charlie watched with wide eyed looks as Alastor burned up the piece of coat with a wicked grin.

(Y/N) laughed loudly from where he was observing at the top of the stairs. "Pfft, hahaha! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you're faces were too much for me." He snickered, wiping a tear away from his eye, making his way down towards the group.

"Oh! And Prince (Y/N) he's also my big brother! He's also my advisor when it comes to business administration. And he's my bestest friend." The siblings shared a fist bump, sharing matching grins.

"Welcome to the Hazbin hotel, Sir Pentious. I've got to say, your machines are something to wonder at. I'd love to go over the mechanics sometime." (Y/N) held his hand out for a handshake, yelping when the snake hugged him, "Nobody's ever admired my skillssssss.! We are going to be great friendssss." sobbed Pentious.

Angel was now full on glaring at the snake...how dare he touch (Y/N) like that?! It took a while before (Y/N) allowed anyone new to touch him.

"Um..Charlie? Isn't it time for our daily activity?" squeaked (Y/N), clearly uncomfortable in the snake's grip.

*Time skip*

(Y/N) was sitting in his favorite arm chair, Angel Dust leaning protectively on his legs, letting the blond run his fingers through Angel's head fluff. It was so soft, he couldn't resist and Angel certainly didn't mind, if the slight purring the spider was doing was an indication.

Angel scrolled lazily through his phone, Vaggie and Pentious sitting on the floor listening as Charlie spoke.

"Now! With a new resident, I think it's important we all get to know each other, so we are going to play a little game. Everyone, follow me.

"🎵My name is Charlie," she claps twice and kneels down to smile at Vaggie's love struck look, "I like to sing," She stood up gesturing to everyone, clapping again. "And when we get to know each other, it's the greatest thing!🎵" Charlie clapped once more and gestured to Sir Pentious.

(Y/N) smiled; that was a game he taught her when she was a kid.

"🎵My name's Sir Pentious," claps twice, "I like to build," claps twice again, "And despite my stupid Egg Bois, I think I'm very skilled🎵." He clapped twice for the last time before he and Charlie both gestured to the white furred spider.

He stopped the quite purring, and looked up from his phone with a look of irritation. "This is stupid." Angel deadpanned. (Y/N) snorted softly as he brushed the white fur back.

"🎵This is not stupid!" Charlie claps twice with a forced smile, "It's just the game. Sir Pentious did it well, so now please try to do the same.🎵'" She twirled in front of Angel who sighed, pinching the bridge of his beak(nose).

"I am too sober for this." (Y/N) tugged his hair slightly in a playful warning.

"Ooh, harder, Daddy~" fake moaned Angel, yelping in surprise when the blushing prince actually tugged harder in retaliation.

"Well, get used to it and learn how to play. 🎵This is gonna be your whole day 🎵 ." Vaggie clapped twice with a smirk at the glare Angel sent her.

*Timeskip*

"Oh, I'm a bad man on the streets who never got enough hugs. Now, where's an innocent kid I can sell crack to?" Angel read from the script, feeling like an idiot. He glared slightly as (Y/N) wore the biggest shit eating grin from where he was standing behind the others who sat on the couch.

Breaking character, he hissed at the prince, "Don't you say a word."

He was dressed like a homeless man, and Sir Pentious was licking a lollipop wearing a uniform. "Wow, who wrote this?" Angel asked aloud, smacking the script. "It's great, right. Keep going." Charlie grinned like a school girl.

The Italian sighed heavily before continuing, "Hey you." He faked called Pentious. "Who me?" asked the snake in a child like tone.

"Yeah, you look like a kid who could use some devil's dandruff?" Angel squinted his eyes, sliding a hand down his face in disbelief. "Oh, for fucks' sake."

"Not me. I have to go home and sssstudy."

"C'mon, kid, it'll make you cool like me...." Angel paused, hearing (Y/N)'s snickering, and felt his body drop at the dumbass script in his hand, "The crackhead."

(Y/N) couldn't hold it back anymore before he laughed loudly. He was laughing so hard, he fell on the floor behind the couch,tears pooling in his eyes from laughing.

The others' waited for him to finish, so they could hear the play. Charlie rolled her eyes at her brother with a fond smile. It'd been a while since he'd laugh like that. Angel smiled, hearing (Y/N) belly laugh. 'No, I'm supposed to be mad at him, right now.' He thought stubbornly, cheeks flushed.

"The only cool thing here is to sssay no to drugsss. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!" declared the snake proudly. (Y/N) finally finished his giggles, and was standing back up, watching with weary grin.

"Yes! Oh, bravo, bravo!" cheered Charlie as she clapped excitedly. "Wow, Pentious, at this rate, you'll be redeemed in no time."

"I-I'm going to bed." Angel announced, a funny tone in his voice. He walked away briskly, but not before (Y/N) caught his downcast face. He frowned thoughtfully before teleporting to who knows where.

Angel paused at the steps as he listened to Charlie, "I am so proud of you, Sir Pentious." He turned to watch the interaction. "That was amazing. That was beautiful work today." "Thank you, thank you. You like me, you really like me." preened the snake, bowing slightly.

In his room, Angel shrugged off the costume he was wearing, throwing it on his beloved pet pig, who snorted curiously before laying on his bed and curling on his side.

He pulled his phone out and scrolled through the voicemail he'd received.

Sighing, the spider demon clicked on a random one to listen, "Angel, baby, come home. It's not the same without you here. I miss you, come back." Val's voice cooed before turning angry, "Angel, you bitch, if you don't come home, you will be fucking greasy truck drivers for the next year."

"You fuckin' slut!"

"Hey, Angie, about earlier--"

"Kill your whole fucking fam--"

"Work's really stressful--"

"Little cocksucking piece of shit--"

"You actually think you can change?" The pornstar gasped, sitting up and watching the red smoke curl in his room as he listened to this voicemail. "Addict trash like you doesn't change. I'll see you soon, baby." Angel snapped out of his thoughts as his pig nudged him with his cold snout, looking for attention.

"Sorry, not now, Fat Nuggets." He apologized before heading downstairs.

*Downstairs*

Angel grabbed a bottle of alcohol and started chugging away. "Aah..." He sighed, before seeing a shadow move. "Huh?"

He followed the light to see a door open..and not just any door, the door to (Y/N)'s office was opened. (Y/N) usually was so careful about letting people in there, the prince only Angel himself and Charlie in there. But the blond demon wouldn't leave his office open so carelessly, so someone broke in.

He walked over to the door and peeked an eye in, gasping seeing Sir Pentious placing a camera in (Y/N)'s bookshelf.

"You slippery little shit!"

Sir Pentious yelped at being caught before turning to see the angry spider.

"You're working for the Vees? I fucking knew there was something shitty about you." Angel pointed an accusing finger at the snake who scoffed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, whorebug!" smirked Pentious before Angel growled and tackled him, starting a brawl.

Spoilers: Angel was winning.

"Get your aggressively average body off of me!" screamed Pentious, hypnotizing Angel.

"Fuck!" Angel screamed as he obeyed unwillingly. Sir Pentious hissed as he slithered away to the bookshelf to get some space. Angel narrowed his eyes approaching, just as (Y/N), Charlie and Vaggie appeared, the women who were clearly sleeping, yawned and watched them blearily.

"What's going on?" asked Charlie.

(Y/N) had a box in his hands, and he tilted his head. "Why the hell are you in my office, Pentious?"

"Oh, the door was opened and I was looking for you, Prince (Y/N), when this spider burst in here and attacked me!" "Yes, my door was open, because sometimes Angel keeps me company when insomnia hits us both hard. So I leave it open and we stay up together until we fall asleep." explained (Y/N), missing the knowing looks Vaggie and Charlie shared.

"This little bitch is a traitor!" Angel snapped, holding Pentious arm firmly.

"Preposterous, I would never betray you. You...are my best friends." lied the snake as he pulled Charlie and Vaggie into a group hug. He tried to hug (Y/N) as well, but last time he did, the prince threatened to skin him and let the cannibals from Cannibal Town eat him....alive with his Egg Bois as a side.

Safe to say, everyone was disturbed as (Y/N) made that threat with a smile on his face. Angel found it hot as fuck though...

"Uh-huh. Then explain this." Angel moved one of (Y/N)'s books aside to reveal a video camera, starting to record.

Pentious noticed the shocked looks from Charlie and Vaggie before feeling a dangerous glare at his back.

He shakily turned to look at (Y/N) who was grinning darkly, fangs glinted in the light dangerously; his eyebrow twitching in anger, mixed eyes glowing an deadly red. "Hmm, looks like I'll be following through with that threat after all." He set the box down, and started approaching the Snake.

"Ah! Ah! Abort! Abort! SOS Agent Pentious in need of immediate evacuation!" screamed the snake into a wrist watch as he tried to leave the wrath of the prince.

"Pentious? Wait...you were caught? It hasn't even been a day!" Vox laughed.

Pentious side eyed the hotel members who stood in front of the other exit. Vaggie was now wielding her spear, Charlie holding her hand over her mouth in worry, Angel crossing his arms, while one of his lower arms rested on (Y/N)'s upper back as a way of grounding the pissed off prince.

"Please, you've got to get me out of here!" begged the snake. "I can't believe we thought you could handle even something this simple. Do us a favor, if they don't kill you, go ahead and do it yourself, you miserable failure!" Vox screamed, short circuiting the watch.

(Y/N)'s malicious bloodlust calmed hearing how Vox talked to the snake.

Yes, he was an idiot..but no one deserved to be told to kill themselves. He looked down thinking of...them.

"I--Just make it quick I guess. Not that I deserve it." Pentious laid down sadly, waiting for someone to hurt him. "Gladly." Vaggie growled, before being stopped by (Y/N).

"(Y/N)?" asked Angel, watching the prince as he held a hand out to the snake. "Pentious?"

"Good first day." Charlie sighed happily, reaching a hand out to Vaggie as they walked to bed. "Let's get some rest."

The group walked out of the library, (Y/N) grabbing the camera to dispose of, Angel following behind him.

After a few minutes later, a shadow grinned before Alastor appeared in (Y/N)'s office and picked up the discarded watch, starting it with his powers.

"What?" snapped Vox before he realize who was on the other side. "You'll have to try harder than that next time, ol' pal." Alastor grinned, as Vox screamed on the other side, his laughter echoing in the TV demon's ears.

*With (Y/N)*

He'd pulled Angel out onto the private balcony that came he'd built for his room, the spider lounging on his favorite swing seat that (Y/N) made for him. The two continued to grow closer everyday, and since they hang out so much, the prince wanted the spider to be comfortable. (Y/N) appeared next to Angel, holding out a glass of a red wine with ice on top and an orange slice on the rim.

The Italian mobster raised an eyebrow at the drink. "Relax, it's a Balisteri Cherry Wine. You look like you could use it." (Y/N) showed the other glass in his hand, offering a soft smile when Angel took it. He then sat himself on the railing near Angel, one leg tucked under him, the other hanging over the ledge.

"I'm glad you're here Angel. I'm sorry it took so long for someone to say this but: You're very special, and I know underneath, there's somethin' special just waiting to be unlocked....you just need someone to help you unlock it. I'd like to be that person if you'd let me." (Y/N) blushed slightly before turning to the spider who looked at him with a soft look before replying,

"I'd like that."

*End! For the song, imagine it was a male Charlie singing..I could't find a male version yet.*

See you guys next time!

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Silly little headcannon:

Demons / sinners can't have salt because it's one of those pure substances that could dispel them.

It's also a punishment for sinners who enjoyed basic flavour in their meals. Other spices can be obtained in some form, more or less, often smuggled across rings from wrath or gluttony where the main farms can be found.

A few people hankering for Spice get The Real Thing - smuggled by the hellborn who went to earth. It was a very expensive desire to cultivate.

And there was always one idiot who thought that the salt thing was just superstition and asked for it. At this point the hellborn no longer argue, just make a vague your funeral statement, and give the item over.

Can it kill them? If you chug the bottle, sure.

Is it similar to drinking bleach? Yeah. Parts start to melt like they're trapped in an acid rainstorm starting from the inside out.

Sometimes it can warp how they reform. And it's a bitch and a half if you get it on your skin... burns like acid and won't stop til you get it all off.

So imagine if you will, that there's a hell alternative, sourced from the oceans of envy in Leviathan's realm. Supposedly off limits and out of reach to sinners because, well, fuck em that's why.

They're meant to be punished and Lucifer was pretty pissed with the whole cohort so he banned their access centuries back. Only Zestial recalls being able to cook with flavour...

Rumours say he ddid it in response to Lillith's rebellion and the inners that inspired it. Others believe, like the foolish romantic things they are, that Lucifer's life became bland without his Queen and wanted the rest of the Sinners to understand his pain, to know what they cost him.

All utter twaddle, really.

No one ever considers that perhaps it's just Like That here. After all... there's a lot of similar things in hell to their earth counterparts -like chimkin and pyork; hellborn dont know any different but sinners do.

That's the cruelty, that they can have something Like but not close enough. And without salt... a lot of those recipes you would eventually cave and try to make, just for a moecule of serotonin in the pits of literal despair... would be off.

Unless you pay for deliveries from another rings' business and the import taxes could bankrupt someone unwary, that is. Despair was a hell of a currency... and didn't the Vees and the other financially minded overlords know it. Not to mention more industrious hellborne.

Or, unless you had Connections.

One of the little thrills of being at the Hazbin Hotel was Charlotte unknowingly gifting the sinners (staff and guests alike) all access to Envy salt. She didn't see the big deal, and was caught off guard when Angel said that having the condiment available for every meal, was better than any rimjob he'd had in the last four decades.

Vaggie had hurled a plate like a discus at the man, aiming to remove his revolting mouth at the neck, but he'd caught it in a spare arm. Grinning at her.

"Admit it toots, you missed it too. Though I'm not sure how cause, seriously, ya whole attitude is salty." Dissolving into dorky laughter as her anger wavered into begrudging amusement.

"Oh shut up. But uh, we still got salt in Heaven, and there's always been some in the hotel... so I never really got a chance to miss it. "

Charlie interjects, confused in the way she had of being sincerely curious and obliviously privileged. "What do you mean? Aunties Levi and Levy sell it cheap to the other rings. Why wouldn't you have salt?"

Sensing a chance to educate and be a bit of a bastard about the king, Alastor interjects. "Why, my dear, haven't you heard your father decreed that Leviathan salt is banned to sinners? Its a silly little punishment designed to distress, because without it a number of meals that remind one of home just miss the mark. Insidious... i would almost be impressed if it was employed by anyone else."

Charlie deflates.

"Chin up, at least there's some here to bring something to the table. Unfortunately the spices are running a tad low so Husker will have to go and see if there's any of our dear hellborn contacts available to pop up to earth for a shopping spree "

"Wait, I can get dad to make us some?"

"And let him poison us? No thank you dear. You would absolutely survive anything he hides in the spice, he would make certain, but you know quite well sinners mean nothing to him."

"Thaaaaaaat's not... entirely true. He wouldn't kill you or make you sick deliberately, I dont think."

"He is the devil my dear Charlotte, and you know he will do anything to keep you safe from whatever he perceives as harm. Including even such innocuous creatures as dear Niffty."

Said sinner was being stopped from eating her plate by Angel and Husk. They were offering nonceramic options to limited success.

"Smiles, little help here?"

"Niffty, do drop that and I shall let you have the liver of the next sinner I hunt. You may adorn it with your beloved ketchup all you wish and I shan't even point out how it ruins the flavour, even once!"

Her pupil expands ominously. She squeals and drops the plate.

"Delightful. Now if you'll excuse me, Im afraid Carmilla wants a meeting with us about ensuring all the weaponry was returned. Vagatha, do you wish to come see your mentor?"

"Not my name..." she grumbles, following after with less hostility than she might have shown previously.

....

Charlie is left to wonder after why her father would make it so hard to cook non-bland foods.

He, after arriving to the dining area with great flair, explains that why not? It's meant to be a punishment. The memory of never quite tasting things the same as they were remembered and the despair of trying anyway was a punishment sinners enforced on themselves.

Charlie snaps that it wasn't okay, and that even little kindnesses like a positive memory of life reinforced through a good meal, could be instrumental for changing a sinner for the better.

Lucifer points out that no amount of paprika sprinkled on a sinner corpse was going to redeem her pet overlord or his friend Rhododendron.

Charlie pushes back saying it just might. How would he know? Had he tried before?

Her father pauses, considering, and she really should have paid attention to that odd expression as he asks if Al put her up to asking.

Charlie rolls her eyes. No, but he did do most of the cooking and he'd mentioned that the spices were low.

Ugh, the fucker was cooking for them? Are they sure it was really pyork and not sinner? Lucifer's disgust was obvious. Of course he'd eaten sinner before, eternity was a long time and you wanted to try new things on occasion. But it wasn't a, you know, hankering. A Need.

Charlie countered easily, if with a thread of frustration in the tone. Yes dad, they were very sure. Al cooked lots of stuff, not just sinner... and hey, even Lucifer had enjoyed some of the meals.

The king had to begrudgingly give him that. He cracks his knuckles, having an awful funny little idea. "Well, if that's the case and you trust him, I suppose theres no choice but to wa-bam! Spices restocked and a few new ones added! Straight from Earth to our pantry... let's see what the snarky fucker thinks about that."

Charlie beams at ber dad, hopeful that someday the pair might be friends... but understanding that it would be a matter of one small concession at a time.

....

Later, after the intrepid duo of Alastor and Vaggie returned from Carmilla's fortress of a territory, having been thoroughly negotiated with for future use of the steel... and royal favour if possible, the pair seem to head tiredly for the main sitting area.

Charlie greets them at the door like a labrador bursting with love for an owner that left an hour ago and they just weren't sure the person was ever coming back. Out of the kindness of her heart, Charlie offers to cook; and the overlord finds he suddenly has a burst of new energy, because no. Not again.

Niffty had just gotten the last attempt off the high vaulted ceilings.

Angel, lounging about on a rare day off, offered to help make something. He was struggling to find non drug and alcohol related activities now he had free time. And you could only play with yourself so many times in a day when it was what you did for work yknow?

Cherri was blowing up his phone with party deets, begging him to come over and play... and he was being so brave about it.

The sound of music filled the kitchen, helping a little. Filling in the gaps in his brain where the Wants crept in with sound. His twitchy hands put to use grabbing out equipment and ingredients as Al instructed.

Cooking was easy enough and soothing for the spider sinner. He cant recall what they were making, just followed instructions to peel and dice and cut as Al did his showmans patter over the music. Some truly insane stories from decades back in Hell and something about a sinner who sounded like Vox absolutely going face first into the pavement. The deer was a riot when he got going, and wasn't aiming his anger at you.

It felt... warm.

Well, hell always was, but this... cooking with someone always reminded Angel of his life before. Cooking was a whole experience if the family was together and had time. That's just how the bonded... well, 'cept dad and arackniss. Idiots got it into their head not to joint he family in the kitchen... as if every other guy in the other Families wasn't proudly cooking upa storm. They should've been embarrassed to miss out!

He notes the now overflowing spice rack and points it out to Al. Angel can't help the small grin as he sees those floofy red ears flick back in obvious agitated indignation, before they are forcefully corrected by the overlord.

Big bad fluffy ass adorable overlord. Betcha Al still thought the rest of the hotel didn't know about his tail... eh, let him keep his fragile sense of dignity. Angel'd trade his four best vibrators for a pat, though. Needed to know if it was anywhere near as soft as it looked.

That he knew was a secret, the kind you didn't snitch about to nobody. Al still didn't seem to realise it was Angel and Husk who'd found him a bloody mess after the new place opened, when that fake smile finally thinned and he'd passed out near his room. Lucky for the stubborn deer that they'd been keeping an eye 'cause Husk (the grumpy softie) felt something was wrong and followed him at a distance. Spooky Jnr (the shadow) had actually been hovering anxiously the whole time and practically came to get the not-so-subtle stalkers when Al had collapsed. They'd dagged the overlord into the new radio tower, yanked off the sodden layers, and given the idiot some actual first aid.

Husk had looked conflicted for a moment, just a fraction of a second there, and Angel kept thinking about if he'd have had the strength to gently clean, stitch and bandage his own overlord if the chance to let them die came up. He wants to think he'd show that same compassion... but Al wasn't Valentino, and thank fuck for that, so Angel knows he'd find a way to smother the moth bastard if he was ever that lucky.

Still, he now knew about the tail. Husk'd played it off like he'd been the only person to help when the near-delirious and panicked deer snapped awake the next morning in his new bed, all trussed up. But he's sure something of the night must have stayed in that red head, because sometimes Al looked at him from the corner of his eyes. Testing him, maybe seeing if Angel wanted something from him, or was going to use it against him.

Sure, the sinner was a bit of a muck up, and he'd killed for fun, but like... no one important. Not friends, not family, not... whatever these weirdoes in the hotel had come to be to him. But he couldn't breach the gap to tell Al he was safe with Angel, because that'd be saying th quiet bit out loud... and he's not sure he'd get the same answer back.

But... he'd noticed he was able to just exist 'round Al, even with his dirty jokes, more often now. There was a slight ease of tension. Same as the one he had with Vaggie, really... you didn't say anything out loud, but you both knew there was an easiness there. A safety.

She hadn't even thrown that plate hard enough to decapitate earluer, and if that didn't say sisterly love, what could it stand for?

The sound of staticky uh, french-like words spluttering over the music in little hissing bursts catches Angel's attention. He snaps back into the moment.

Alastor looked furious and indignant about the whole cosmic flex of Lucifer's restocking. Of course the little king had interfered. It wasn't done kindly, it was another reminder that he could do anything he wanted and it was so Easy... with one thought he invalidated another way that Alastor was helpful to the hotel. His spy networks, the deals he had with smugglers... no longer necessary.

All so his majesty could try and show his daughter how useless even the most powerful sinners were in relation to the Morningstar family. Missing her point entirely... again.

Just because one Could doesn't mean one Should or even Must.

Angel, as one who had been around Hell for a while and could see what was yanking Al's chain about this mess, points out that it actually didn't curry favour with Charlie. Not like Short King intended after all.

Heck, he even points out it aint that bad if you reaaaaally thought about it... cause hey, saved money and time in the end, right?

Seeing a need to distract, he fluffed up his chest fur, draped himself over the countertop and cooed. Alastor's ears went right up in alert, and Angel would've bet Fat Nuggets that that floofy tail was doing the same in some ancient panic instinct.

Putting it on thick, to dispel the tension, Angel grins lazily at Al. Pointing out that, hey... maybe you could get them sexy smugglers to bring the starlet back some of those new Toys he'd heard about, cause word on the street was that there was this new kinda Stroker that-...

Al looked like he was about to have a stroke... but the ears settled. This was familiar nonsense.

Angel laughed, not unkindly, and stretched upright again. Messing with Al and Vags was sort of fun, like a hobby you dusted off when things got a bit Meh. It was also fun to get the Radio Demon on the ropes, given how much the guy liked to shitstir all on his own.

Alastor, for his part, then caught Angel completely off guard by asking if all 6 of his arms were broken - because why would he need something like that otherwise? The scrunched expression actually showed the overlord was trying to rationalise the request. Fuck, that was hilarious...

The whole bizarre nature of the conversation actually made Angel tear up in disbelieving mirth, holding his sides.

"How the fuck do you know what that is?" He'd wheezed, trying to imagine Al flicking casually through one of the Lust catalogues like he would a newspaper on Sunday. The mental image blurred and warped like Al on a camera screen, it was too hard to picture.

"We're from the same time period my good man, and Hell's advertising campaigns are as persistent as they are pervasive." Al points out the kitchen window at a number of visible billboards that displayed products one would not anticipate being so openly advertised anywhere else.

Nothing subtle about the new DragonDrillDo XXXL-treme from VoxTek! The billboard ran the breadth of three adjacent buildings and the product looked like it could probably could kill a Sin if used incorrectly.

"Oh. Well, a stroker is like... you know how sometimes you just have had a long day, and you don't wanna have to do everything yourself, right? Gotta get that dopamine flowing somehow, and store bought is fine in this house. No shade." He flutters his eyelashes and watches the deer sigh in silent resignation that he would weather whatever came out of Angel's mouth right now.

"Why don't we get one for the table, you know... to share if you like, and I'll help ya try it out..." the eyebrow waggle was excessive, but it sure was fun.

He hadn't anticipated the slice of tomato that slaps him dead on the forehead. Laughing harder as it slips down his face slowly, as if in on the bit.

"One could point out the merits of putting in a hard day's work, and using a little elbow grease as it were. The things you do by hand provide greater satisfaction, over the artificial...or so I have always come to understand." Al deadpans back, grinning at the suddenly shocked expression on Angel's face. "Come now, little spider, you don't truly believe that I'm blind to that side of life, hmm?"

"Smiles, watch what you say... with the visuals my brain is producing, asking me to come anywhere might just be a dangerous game." Angel quips back, putting certain mental images aside for later perusal. The guy was hot in the weird scary way of the overlords... so sue him.

He, predictably, gets another tomato slice to the face. Charlie was gonna scold them for wasting food in a hot minute. Ah well, Angel's just grateful it wasn't the capsicum, that coulda stung for days, had the overlord had them to hand.

Still, the fact he wasn't being mauled by poppets means that he musta wormed his way into Al's Good Graces. Same as husk and Niff and Charlie... and maybe Vags, he's not sure where those two fall now. Less attempted stabbing with that little angelic toothpick, at least... so maybe they're doing okay too.

"If you are quite done being ridiculous," Alastor makes quite the show of rolling his eyes and blasting an audience groaning at him. "Do be a, hah, a deer, and grab out the following..."

Angel may have four hands on heh, hand, most of the time but the list of spices was getting excessive at this point. They can't all go in the same dish, right? It'd be too much for one tongue to process and just come out feeling like you licked a powerpoint or something.

Angel's smart mouth moves as if to say something of the sort to the guy who could technically turn him inside out and not in the fun way, but won't 'cause they're not-buddies now... when something shifts. It's almost like the little glass thing wiggles out of the way of his grasping fingers and then hurls itself downward.

The cap unscrews itself as it falls, in a way that seemed too easy for something new, something allegedly just off the shelf of some earth store or whatever. His eight eyes flare wide with realisation at the What, but there's nothing he can do, no way to react fast enough to move as the contents begin to spray outward. A torrent that shouldn't be possible.

Angel feels someone grab one of his lower shoulders and yank him back, with a speed and ferocity that should have tossed him across the room, but even with that action he can sense it's far too late.

Scalding pain sears up his right upper arm and shoulder, fragmenting across face, neck and a splotch on her lower right arm. It's blinding. He's been hurt real fucking bad before, and each time felt different... this... this was like flashes of lighning behind the eyes.

Fuck, he hadn't felt anything like this since they stopped doing electronecro shoots. Fucking hated the few moths Val'd been into that... or maybe it eas Travis. Both needed to choke to death for that mess, if the world was fair, that is.

Angel can't comprehend anything but the twanging of nerves as his trajectory and the full force of his lanky telephone pole of a body is yanked straight into a writhing mass of darkness. The inky mass of shadows hissing frantically as granules continue to spill down, shielding as best they can despite ther own discomfort.

Dimly, Angel wonders if they feel pain... if Al can feel their pain, or what they touch. It's a weird thought...

Heh, best not share that with Val or he'd find a way to fuck that shadow, and Al'd burn down the whole of Pride. Oh, hang on, loopy thoughts, nope, can't do shock. that's bullshit. Get it together Angel.

The shadows brush over his limbs, dislodging what they could of the corrosive substance, trying to help where they could. Despite the obvious discomfort it caused everyone involved.

Angel is half braced on a nearby bench, trembling, because fuck that hurts, One of his arms is being gripped to near bruising strength, and the other is grasping Alastor's should right back.

Despite attempts to stifle it, Angel could feel his mouth part in a harsh, agonised cry as several of the utensils and bowls they were using crashed to the floor at the sudden displacement of bodies.

The container clanged to the floor innocently, rolling away and spewing out more than a dozen jars that size should have been able to produce. Perhaps an enchantment? Wouldn't be the first bottomless thing conjured; saved on shopping bills if things just refilled when empty or expired.

His shout must have alerted others because Vaggie was suddenly there, spear brandished wildly, as Husk stormed in behind her. The pair look ready to skewer Alastor if he was secretly attempting to murder and cook Angel.

To be fair... that was certainly one assumption. Angel could suggest a few other reasons for callig out that might get him actually, honest-to-satan, turned into shish kabobs by Al. He lets out a shaky laugh as his thoughts go a bit silly again.

He just holds off on slapping himself across the face, trying to stay calm. He'd had worse, much, much, MUCH worse... and this was what set off the hysterics? Fuck off with that!

Although, based on the way Husk's stern expression blanched just as sharply as Vaggie's, perhaps he wasn't being a big old baby about this. Maybe it really was Bad.

"Shit." Vaggie hisses, eye wide, and spear donking onto the floor. "What the fuck happened in here?"

Angel pushes himself upright as the shadows recede, breathing deliberately. That cute little in-out thing Charlie did in yoga the other day, something about breathing into boxes wasn't it? He wants to make a dumb box-based joke, but the energy is going into not-screaming as he moves his torso.

Angel can feel himself calming slightly, against the residual stinging pain in his cheek. Fuck, must've gotten some there. It's about a 5 out of 10, compared to the rest... until he tries to smile and reassure the others. Then it hits a full-on 7.5.

His eyes water, fuck, yeah he's not gone soft. That actually really goddamn hurts. It's exactly like that time Angel accidentally spilled acid on himself disposing of a rat uptop, the scars were still healing on his arm when he died. What a weird damn thing to recall.

Soemthing moved beside him, stiffer than usual but nonetheless commanding attention. "Husker, Vagatha... do NOT let Niffty in here. She'll harm herself attempting to clear the mess, and likely try to roll in it to chase the burning pain. You know her proclivities by now." The tone is that odd twist of jovial and authoratative, but the normal playful teasing lilt to it has a note of strain there.

Angel feel his world do a dark somersault as Alastor tugs him through the shadows and across the room to the entrance. Far away from the salt littering the surfaces about the cupboard, not to mention the floor. It seemed to still be trickling out of the container... what the actual fuck.

Vaggie ducked out the door and yelled for Charlie, citing urgency and that they needed medical help. Angel starts to think that perhaps that was, you know, overkill... but he's suddenly aware of how hard he's leaning on support when Husk pulls him off of Alastor and braces him with his own paws.

Those golden eyes are roving over the sinner, and Angel can't find the energy for a sexy little pout and some coquettish quip. Whiskers clearly ain't into what he sees. That expression could glower its way through steel doors if he wanted it to.

"Well, fuck... what kind of idiot puts actual, honest-to-goddamn-earth salt in the kitchen?" Husk mumbles herding Angel immediately towards the far counter, eyes assessing. "Gotta wash this off quick - you might have some clinging to your skin. Is the sink clear?"

The words ring in the air, echoing against the clashing sounds of their footsteps and the pounding of Angel's heart in his ears. It's about that point he catches up with the realisation that there's no music playing.

He glances back at the visibly seething Overlord, who was trying not to appear to be propping himself up against the nearby open door, and failing somewhat. Angel could see that the damn salt had clearly caught Al across the shoulder, upper back, neck and patches to one side of his face. One of the silly red ears was rather less fluffy, appearing quite agitated as it twitched.

Well, fuck. If Al caught a glancing blow whilst dragging Angel out of the spray, then how bad was the starlet? He felt barbecued.

Hah, technically he'd been pre-prepped and marinated in something. Maybe Al and his friend Rosie could take a nibble! Husk shook him, gently, but enough to click his brain back into the here and now. The hysteria quashed back down for the moment, he'd give his third pair of arms for that mess to stop.

"Hey, listen this is going to suck but it's necessary to get it off you. So just stay with me, alright?" Husk murmurs, wetting a teatowel and sarting to sluice the areas. He might have sworn rather viciously at the first touch of water... but by the time the second lot poured over the area, it started to feel soothing.

"Well this has been quite the little frustration. All our preparations have been tainted by something that would try to ea the stomach of those who ingested it." Alastor snarls as Vaggie approaches, slowly, as if she was trying to tempt an injured feral cat into accepting help.

His eyes snapped to her, and without the shadows, it was clear the extent of the damage. Angel hadn't realised Salt could eat through clothing until now, probably for the best he'd done such a damn good job on those stitches, the top edges of the wound are almost invisible under the regrown deer fur.

Angel can feel his own shirt just as ratty, and mourns the loss of it. He'd liked how it made his chest perk just right... and getting a shirt that could switch from four to six arms was a bitch and a half in this town. The enchantments alone cost him a lot in terms of repaying Val in weird, off the wall kink stuff the moth was into and Angel wasn't.

Briefly, Angel considered the fact he'd thought seeing Al dishevelled like this would make him look kinda hot, maybe a bit naughty. But it was kinda distressing, and freaky. Not unlike the night they found him collapsed, really. Overlords are meant to be untouchable gods compared to Sinners on the street, seeing them fucked up and hurt was... actually frightening in a weird way.

At least you could say that the mussy look made Al's perpetual grin all the more manic. You could feel that the wrong move might end in someone getting bitten. The radio dial eyes, though, suggested that perhaps Al had an idea who did this... and they were going to PAY.

It was also kind of a mess in his head now, not just his own injury. But Alastor actually interceding. He didn't have to, he'd been out of the 'splash zone' as it were... why the fuck had he risked harm by coming to get Angel?

Was this ike how sometimes Al would appear and take on Sinners targeting hotel staff? Or that time he literally took a bullet for Husk, and laughed about it, only to make the offender eat his own weapon until his teeth broke on the barrel and the fucker was a mess of snotty tears? Niffty'd turned the dislodged molars into a necklace and gifted it to Charlie... who had worn it for a full day and then put it 'somewhere safe'.

Hah, get wrecked you stubborn deer, you LIKE me! Angel suppresses his gleeful little giggle, knowing it'd hurt to let it out right now. The flicker of smug grin Husk shot him seemed to indicate he agreed. Or at least, that's what Angel was interpreting that as.

Still, guilt did churn in his guts cause, yeah, he could take a beating and all but it never felt right to have others get hurt for him. Anytime Cherri caught a blow in a fight to prevent him taking it, it weighed on him. This... this was just as messed up, but in a different way.

Alastor was shorter than Angel, not by much, but enough that it was inevitable that the salt showering on the spider was going to trickle down to those below even as they pulled him from the metaphorical line of fire.

Something down Angel's chest was burning, but at this point, he straight up wasn't ready to look down and acknowledge the full extent of this horror. Inside his chest, his heart was alternating between thundering at Husk's tender care and proximity... and aching for accidentally getting someone else hurt, for his sake.

He's just some washed up, rent-a-hole whore, why would anyone-... his fists clenched. No, no we're going to be kind to ourself. Even if it feels all woo-woo and new agey bullshit, but Charlie thinks there's worth in me. Husk looks at me like I hung the moon. Alastor put himself in harm's way to help me. They must think I'm worth something beyond my body, beyond sex.

And one day I'm gonna feel confident about that too. Not yet, but I'm gonna get there. Angel reassured himself.

"It's okay..." Husk murmurs, the mantra repeated soothingly over and over, until the tension in his arms released. "There you go... don't let the thoughts win. Hard to fight your own brain, but you can. I've won, and you will too."

Well, fuck, he can't not fantasise about riding Husk off into the sunset now can he? Not when Whiskers was being so kind, so understanding, so-... smug, actually. But following the flicking tail with his eyes helped to settle the weirder thoughts the spider was experiencing.

The calm immediately broken when the cavalry arrived.

Charlie blasts open the doors with the largest first aid kit known to sinner-kind. Three Nifftys could sleep in it with room to spare for the entire bug collection... where the fuck did the Princess get this thine?

Ah, Angel idly notes the Sloth symbol. Well, of course it was from Bellphagore, the Sin was prodigious for naptime and medical care.

"Nobody panic! I have literally everything we could ever need to manage a situation right here! How bad is it? Is anybody dead?" She rapid-fires across the room, eyes darting in all directions to assess the situation.

"It's fine, nothing that won't heal in a day or so, charlotte do calm down!" Alastor grins, doing his mildly condescending little hand wave, straightening back to his cheerful persona as if he wasn't half-charred.

Husk actually walks across the room and smacks his overlord over the back of the head with a wing. "Just cut the shit, Al, we both know that hurts like a bitch... and I'm like 85% sure being honest about that for once won't kill you. Probably. Ain't like anyone here will take advantage of you like this, they like you... lord knows someone has to."

That startles a laugh out of the deer. "Oh Husker, you are a delight..."

"More importantly," Husk interjects. Starting to tug the only mildly-resisting Alastor towards the sink as well. It's a miracle no one has been bitten yet. "How did this even happen? The only salt we got in the hotel is from Envy, normally... and you can't just accidentally get the earth stuff, right?"

Lucifer pops in in a swirling array of red-gold sparkles. "There you are sweetie, what's the hullaballoo that's got you yelling all over the hotel?"

Charlie, already pulling out more gauze and cream than anyone would need in a lifetime, gestures at Angel and Alastor. Husk returns to his task of gently wiping over Angel's angry-looking shoulder with a moistened towel; it takes effort for the spider not to flinch.

"Ooh yikes. Hmmm, looks like you got a little clumsy in the kitchen there, bambi." Lucifer grins, eyes sparkling with malicious delight. His expression doesn't waver as it takes in Angel. "And you managed to damage a guest in the process, how can you call yourself a bellhop? For shame."

The antlers creak ominously, extending upwards and pulling at the angry skin there as Alastor clearly chooses to ignore the limitations in the face of the small all-powerful asshole before him.

The process pauses, in shock, as Husk tests the bounds of Al's famously finite patience by clipping him again with a wing. Angel is going to have a heart attack if Whiskers doesn't cut that out right the fuck now. Al seems to surprised to be angry, at least.

What the porn start wasn't expecting, was to have the too-bright grin turned upon him as Alastor asked. "Angel... the device you mentioned earlier, would it come in such a width that one could cram the entirety of his Lowness into the orifice, since he wants to act like a pompous little dic-...?!"

"Whoakay, no need for that. I'm sure it was an accident..." Charlie interjects, hands up like someone trying to settle a furious horse that was ready and willing to cave someone's ribcage in.

Lucifer winked at Alastor and turned to face his daughter, "Of course it was, sweetie, I'd never hurt your guests deliberately!"

That omission caught even Charlie"s attention. "...dad? I just want to clarify... not accusing you or anything, but did you... know that you summoned earth salt when you restocked the pantry?"

"Of course not Char Char." Said the prince of lies, whose smile was violently gleeful under that insipid hat.

Charlie's expression closed off completely, pinched taut, as she saw Angel breathe his way through the gentle sluicing of water over too raw skin. Her mind was racing as rapidly as her pulse. Worst case scenarios whirling through her mind.

Would Valentino punish Angel for this? For being hurt and likely delaying filming? Probably. Fuck. She hated this.

Charlie takes a deep breath, and forces a smile onto her face. She can do this. "Dad. It starts with Sorry? Remember?"

"Of course, Char-Char! Ahem, Angle Rust, im sorry you were injured by accident." Lucifer chirped, looking slightly to the left of the sinner and not really caring for anything but Charlie's approval in this situation. He thinks he nailed the faux concern too, the pompous little cockrel.

Thankfully, his daughter is not the naive child he recalls. The King of Hell's eyes go wide eough to fall out of their sockets as his own beloved daughter hurls a half chopped cabbbage at his head. The leaves exploding about like confetti, leaving him bewildered and blinking sharply. "What?"

"That. Was NOT. An. Apology. Dad." Charlie growls, horns out and tail lashing. "We don't try to hurt others here, and I get you have an issue with Al for some reason... but this is ridiculous! You of all people know that earth salt can permanently harm sinners, so why would you do this?! I'm not as stupid as you think dad, it's clear you were hoping to get Alastor with this, because he's our main cook. And look what you did! Angel's hurt too, do you have any idea what his overlord might do to him because he's not 'camera ready'?"

Angel actually froze as icy dread clawed its way up his spine hand over hand. With everything happening, Angel really hadn't thought that far ahead, and now someone spoke the reality aloud he found himself visibky fighting back tears.

Val would make him pay for damaging company property...

Fuck, he'd be lucky if they let him leave the studio again.

"Worry not Angel," Comes an unexpectedly calm voice. "I will clear my schedule for the evening and deal with the moth. He's been on the to do list for a while..." Alastor reassured, admittedly uncertain why he was being so altruistic. He'd told himself to stop caring after the whole Adam fiasco. Damn it all.

"You... will? Why, I ain't got nothing to offer you..." Angel looked confused. That mask slipped over his face as he grinned salaciously, "unless ya changed your mind about that offer i made to suck ya-..."

It was his turn to get smacked with a wing.

"Behave."

"Anything for you, Whiskers..."

"Drop the act, its creepy." Husk groaned, wringing the teatowel out over something on Angel's side. The avian feline hissed in sympathy as Angel flinched back from the sensation, then cringed at the way the rest of his skin went taut. "Stay still if you can, I know it hurts, but you're doing great..."

"Indeed Angel, creepy is my shtick... do find your own." Al drawls, taking a subtle step away from the now-advancing Charlie, who had her demonic aspects out and more duckie shaped bandaids than anyone should have a right to have access to. "Please keep those away from me."

"Only if you let me flush the injury with at least some water to make sure we get it all off of you." Charlie negotiates, putting down the bandaids in a manner that suggested they could be snatched up again in a split second. And for a moment, Alastor feels pride at her clear if clumsy attempt at manipulation. She appears to have learned deceptive kindness, will demonic wonders never cease?

Lucifer is scowling. "Stop being such a drama queen. Here, I'll fix your little boo boos, even though its pointless because this is hell and you'll be hurt doing something violent or self destructive in the next four hours anyway, if you stop complaining about it. You got pranked, deal with it bambi."

Alastor bared his teeth sharply at the king's outstretched hand as the monarch advanced. Angel could see something trembling sharply under the coat from the corner of his eyes and guessed the deer instincts were not taking this threat all that well. "For someone who sees himself as above the so-called barbaric, cruel and hopeless sinners, sire, you certainly dont hesitate to utilise similar actions to harm out of petty jealousy."

The King pauses, scoffing arrogantly. "Jealousy? Of what, you? The freak manipulating my own daughter with this stupid sweet-cannibal overlord act? Fuck you. Because let's be real here... overlord or no, if i really wanted to I could just smite you and be done with it. Why can't you take a joke, Annette?"

Alastor learns towards the King. "Then do it, little majesty, smite away. Because I'm certain that a little spot of casual murder will repair the fracture between you and Charlotte fantastically and not just remind her how little you care for the sinners she's trying desperately to save."

He pauses, and if he physically could, Alastor would be scowling. "And for further clarification, you feathered fool - a prank is only worthwhile if the victims find it funny in the aftermath. Although given how isolated you've been, one can only imagine how little of the social graces or cues have remained. Is it any wonder everyone you ever loved has abandoned you?"

Lucifer was growing brighter with every word, horns out, tail lashing. Ah, there's the family resemblance.

There's a general group inhalation, and Angel sucks it through his teeth, his nerves flicked into flight or fight mode as the Devil himself seethes. You can feel his power like the pulses of sound at a concert, it moved through you and you know it could crush your bones with the right frequency.

"Sinner scum, you think you can show such disrespect to me and get away with it?" Lucifer's breathing hellfire on every word, very biblical and not at all overly-theatrical. How fascinating. "Let's see how smug you are when I strip your flesh from your bones!"

"Hah, you wouldn't even be the first to try it, you duck-obsessed dictator. Do attempt some originality, majesty, or did the creative flair disintegrate when you landed in Hell?" Alastor tosses back, appearing unconcerned about the fact that at least Vaggie and Charlotte are making definitive 'cut it out' gestures at him.

Shadows shoved Charlie, Vaggie, Husk and Angel out of the way as a blast of something bright hurtled through the kitchen towards Alastor; decimating retinas left and right.

Angel briefly wonders if Val would be open to having the scripts done in braille so he knows when to moan and when to say something dirty... because it didn't feel like he'd ever see again. Fuck, the sink seemed to be gone, as well as the walls behind it.

Charlie screamed in a horrified fury, leaping for her father, who was grinning as he panted in rage. "Not so smug now, are you, bambi?"

The grin dropped in pure shock as a rather disappointed-looking Alastor appeared from the dimming decimated area, appearing fundamentally unchanged... except for the collar flaring brightly, tight against his throat.

"Ah, blast. I'd hoped that would do the trick... do you want to try again, little majesty? I'm sure you have a number of insecurities I could prod at if you need motivation...?" Alastor asked, seizing at the lilac chain with obvious disgust behind that smile.

"You... what? How are you alive? Is that my-...?" Lucifer stammered, thrown off-guard. He could have vaporised Adam with that blast, why the fuck was the BELLHOP alive?

He receives a withering glare. "Do catch up. Yes, it is. No, I can't say where she is, though one might look upward for answers."

Charlie covers her mouth, breathing in for four and out for four. She can stay calm. Her dad tried to kill her not dad mentor overlord friend hotelier over some jibes, after he tried to pull a prank that could have severely injured him but backfired and got two members of her hotel instead. And something her missing mother did saved Al from the smiting, but he... was upset he didn't what? Die? Was this the time for crisis counselling? Was this a cry for help? What did the mental health first aid guide recommend? This was NOT in the curriculum!

Vaggie was there, immediately, her gentle hands holding her close and encouraging her to breathe. This was all so insane.

" If you are quite finished your tantrum, Little Majesty, would you heal Angel Dust already and show some contriteness for how your actions caused this harm?" Alastor snipes, redirecting attention to the other sinner. "He's quite injured, and I dislike knowing you have brought harm to a friendly party whilst attempting to torment myself. There will be a way to make you pay, little king, and I intend for you to worry about when and what form that will take."

Lucifer, possibly in shock, shuffled over to the starlet with a slightly vacant expression; reaching out mechanically to grab a wrist. He pulses gold light up the spider's arm, wrapping it around the injuries and soothing the harm without any visible effort.

By the time the light fades, even the hair has regrown to its normal pattern and consistency over the previously burned patches. Good as new. That was insane.

Husk has to physically catch Angel as his knees go weak from the sudden rush of endorphins as the pain stopped completely. They stumble a step before Angel can get his shit together in the wake of such an unexpected headrush.

Lucifer rounds on Alastor. "Now you're gonna tell me what the fuck that's about!" He gestures at the collar, " And why seemingly everyone else in Hell can land a blow on your frail crimson ass... but me trying to actively Smite you is waved off? Do you understand how physically impossible that actively is?"

Alastor lets his neck crack sickeningly to the side. "Hah, that's quite simple. She made it clear that I would not be allowed to let you stop me in any way, shape or form and wove it into the contract. Especially not die, unless it was in service to her daughter's hotel or ideals. Everything about you and your abilities is made to bend around that of your dear wife and her abilities; she bet the farm on being able to ensure against you causing harm to someone under her banner. You have no power here, little morningstar, and you most certainly aren't supposed to Be here. That has been made abundantly clear."

Lucifer found himself flinching back. He could hear the echoes of Lillith in those words, in her darker moments, when she'd lost composure against the only being in all of hell who could withstand her powerful fury.

Charlie looked stricken. "Al, what dad did wasn't right, and I'm not devaluing your experiences, but... everyone is welcome at the hotel. You can't say that to him."

Lucifer is looking at him pointedly, eyes narrowed and stomach roiling in horror as he deciphered this mess. "I don't... think that's what he meant, Char-Char. I think... your mother doesn't want me here, around you, and that's... upsetting her. Which used to be why palace staff got replaced so frequently... but I don't think you ever noticed, duckling."

"Why would she try to keep us apart?" Charlie frowned, her memories of time with her mother were so cheerful, interspersed with some odd moments of formailty and a bleakness. But who wasn't an angsty teen at some point?

Lucifer can't help the hysterical little laugh that escapes. "Charlie, she's done nothing but for your entire life. Why stop now?"

His jaw clicks shut as if horrified to have been so blunt.

"As disgusting as the words are in my mouth, I'm afraid I must agree with your father, Charlotte." Alastor grimaces somehow, the smile was there but he looked like he'd gotten a mouthful of poison with no way to spit it out. "You were to be kept separate, and away from... toxic idealism i believe is the wording used. Though I would argue you've already received a fatal dose lready, based on the hotel alone."

A laugh track plays, it feels perfunctory. Expected.

"Did she... make you come here?" Charlie asks bracing herself. It was pretty obvious, but given her mind was whirling form the last half hour, she feels she's doing pretty well actually!

"Yes, and no. Not at first, at least. Initially she just wanted someone to keep an eye on you, especially during your initial forays out into Pride. Your... enthusiasm often outweighed your common sense, before you found Vagatha, who then took on the role of guarding you." Alastor made a dramatic wink at the ex-orcist, who flushed slightly gold under the scrutiny.

"It was later, after that rousing disaster of a television program, when I approached you directly at the hotel that she decided to add stipulations about this project. Though her... request... to keep the royal house divided has been a source of contention as of late, especially with the recent meetings with Heaven and battle."

"So you're... sort of here on your own free will?" Charlie clung to hope that this answer would silence the crushing guilt in her stomach.

"You could say so. I wasn't forced to come to the hotel, that was out of interest and convenience, but once here it was identified that... she would prefer I stay. Which has been most frustrating." Alastor's right ear flattened, the left was damaged and twitched in place.

That prompted Angel to step in. "Okay, can we do story time when Al's not covered in salt-related injuries? I can tell you it sucks harder than Tina Titfucker in Tornad-hoes at Large 4: Return of the Gobbler, and she's a vacuum cleaner of a sinner when she gets going."

Vaggie looks revolted at the segue, but Husk is grinning.

Lucifer stiffens. "...I did say I'd fix it, didn't I, bambi? Can't have you swooning like a damsel in the middle of a big plot reveal... this isn't a hellanovella."

Alastor steps out of range of the hand, and is immediately bracketed by Angel and Husk. "I am willing to eat my way out of this, so anyone who wants to keep their hands on their bodies has until the count of 1." he snarls at them.

"Nah, I think you're going to chill out and trust us..." Angel teases, poking out his tongue and tightening his grip.

"If you think the whole... other night situation is going to save you frm my wrath, I assure you, the debt has been repaid already with this little mess. Do not test me." the Overlord snipes, going deathly still as the radio dials flashed. But intriguingly the sinners don't seem to be phased.

Angel seems intrigued. "Wait, you remember that? How'd you know I was there too?"

"Well, my good man, I know two tall pink-adjacent sinners and you, sir, were not in Rosie's signature attire." Alastor deadpans, as Husk clearly attained a ery specific visual and bit his lip to stifle the laughter. "I do appreciate the assistance, but had assumed it was implied that the reciprocal debt was up to me to figure out how to fulfil..."

"Er, no... sometimes you just help people ya care about, so they don't die. That's what people do. Would you have hesitated if it was like Rosie, or Charlie?" Angel asks, wondering who fucked up this guy's sense of trust... but then recalled where they lived and decided the answer was 'probably everyone'.

"That's... different."

"Did you three fuck? What's this coded thing happening here?" Vaggie interjects, looking to be on the verge of pulling her hair out.

Husk's hat falls off as he bursts into deep gales of laughter at the very idea. Angel pouts, "Aw Whiskers, it'd be real hot if we did... are you laughing at little old me...?"

Alastor appeared to be considering the implications of their statements and the current positioning of everyone. It was a plausible question.

He sighs, tensing slightly as Lucifer stepped closer. "No, rest assured I did not breach any of the fraternisation rules of the hotel. These two were foolish enough not to take the opportunity for a raise in status and power, when they discovered I was injured after the little fight with Heaven. Husker maintained he was the only one who was present, but I recall more than they suspect."

Angel gasped. "Fuck, you weren't awake for the stitches were you? I shoulda given you something."

"Rest assured, it wouldn't have been the worst thing that's happened to me, but no... that bit is not part of my recollections." Alastor assured, wondering why he felt the need to. He should have pressed on that guilt like a bruise, delighted in the agony and regret Angel exuded. But he was tired, and in pain and the... stars or something were incorrectly aligned for such schadenfreude. Something along those lines.

The spider and the cat seemed to relax a fraction.

"Good, cause I'd've felt like an asshole otherwise. That took ages to fix... you shoulda said something earlier, asshole." Angel mumbles, tightening his hold as Lucifer made contact. "No, keep all tentacles to yourself, Al... and teeth! Fuck, I need that arm, bad overlord! I'm not above smacking you with a rolled up newspaper if you snap at me again!"

"You wouldn't dare..." Alastor gasped, shocked.

"He would, and I'd find the sunday edition, so it had extra heft." Husk confirmed, the traitor.

Skin healed over, fur regrew, and the persistent sting seemed to fade. Lucifer paused, and then tugged the thinnest thread of somthing from Alastor's chest, causing the sinner writhe at the sensation. It was fine as a hair, tangling in on itself and disappearing into the aether at a casual flick of the devil's wrist.

"Got rid of the divine grace holding that little scratch open on you. You're welcome. Now, tell me more about this deal with my wife." Lucifer says, tugging his hand back as Alastor sagged, breathing heavily.

Husk turned and flared his wings, creating a bit of a privacy screen as he checked in with the Overlord. "You still alive?"

"Indeed. It's been... some time since there was a lack of pain in my everyday that it quite caught me off-guard." Alastor mumbled back, and wasn't that fucking sad to hear?

"You wanna talk to short king though? I can give him the old Sinder wink and take him somewhere to forget his wife for a bit, if you get me, and you can escape." Angel suggests, winking outrageously.

Alastor rolls his eyes. "I can't ask anyone to take on that level of vile task for my sake..."

There's an offended "HEY! I'm a CATCH you fucking period stain! Anyone would be delighted to sleep with m-... oh, sorry honey, I forgot you were there." from the other side of Husk's wing curtain.

Alastor straightened and used a flash of magic to repair his attire, and that of Angel, removing the muss of moments before. He nods to Husk, who drops his wings.

"What do you want to know?"

"The exact terms of the deal, as best you can provide it, because I'm sensing a silence order in the binding." Lucifer says, not quite a command, but bordering on it. Alastor glares at the mini monarch, but Charlotte looks on the verge of tears, so he relents.

"She has requested someone watch out for and protect Charlotte, and ensure her safety, no matter the cost. As I mentioned before there were caveats about that, and the hotel, but overall Charlotte is the centre of the matter. This includes managing any threats to the hotel, and not inciting any major overlord based drama, as she liked to term it. It's the main reason I haven't ripped Vox's head off and shoved it up the moth's backside like a matroyshka doll." Alastor's expression went sinister, and it definitely felt like there was backstory there that no one wanted to touch right now.

"Uh-huh... and what else?"

"Keep you away. Isolate Charlotte from your influence if possible. Keep her in a position where she can be seen as a harmless figurehead that Heaven will never feel the need to deal with or remove. thus the encouragement in this redemption farce." Alastor says, waving a hand and trying to ignore how Charlotte's fallen expression panged at the heart he definitely didn't have.

"But... it could work!" Charlie says, her passion and desperation driing her to tearfulness.

"Exactly. It COULD work, and she is afraid for you if it should."

"...what?" Charlie jerks back, blinking owlishly.

"There is... precedent, for a sinner being redeemed. I can't tell you about that, because she has bound it... but she didn't say that I couldn't mention it has happened before just the details."

"He's lying Charlie, don't get your hopes up." Lucifer warns, movng towards his daughter as her expression wars between hope and confusion. "She could have told him to say that..."

"I can also tell you, that redemption confuses Heaven, and she was told to deal with it last time it happened. Which is why she..." the next words cut off as the chain flared. The silencing charm in effect.

"Hmmm, you know, I don't recall if I was banned from explaining how the redemption allegedly happened... I understand they were out in an extermination with at least one person they didn't want to see die, and foolishly decided to stand between them and angel blades. I still don't understand how that resulted in redemption, because realistically thousands of sinners have tried to protect others from Exorcists over the years of slaughter... why this particular one?"

Charlie's eyes went wide. "That's... a really big clue, thanks Al! Ohhhh we need to look into this, it has to be about the intent! Or maybe the connection?"

"Please breathe, baby..." Vaggie murmurs, gently.

"Anything else?" Lucifer asked, frowning at Alastor. He didn't like this situation. It felt too convenient.

"She made it clear I was not to directly raise arms against or antagonise Heaven, particularly her first husband. To ensure this, she put a rather frustrating bind on my powers, I have some access... but not all." Alastor seemed to be aiming for nonchalant, but was clearly uncomfortable with having shared such a vulnerability, possibly wondering why he had done so.

Charlie looked like she wanted to grab his hands and say something heartfelt. Lucifer looked a tad too smug... and Vaggie's expression was torn between realisation and a base-born desire to throttle him. That, he could work with.

"Are you telling me, you old-timey idiota, that you faced the first man without any angelic steel and at half your power? What were you THINKING?!" she explodes, yanking at her hair.

"It was a conflict of orders, protect Charlotte and the Hotel but don't raise arms. It was the best caveat I could find... and honestly he was such a sloppy little thing, if it had't been for the guitar axe nonsense damaging my staff, it wouldn't have taken much more to kill him."

"But you-... ugh..." there was a string of words Husk looked like he agreed with but refused to translate. "Not the point! You should have said something! We could have had you put up the shield from somewhere less vulnerable to attack... had someone near you WITH the steel so you didn't have to pick it up. It's called trust, you idiot, try it sometime!"

Alastor's ears were flat back on his skull, eyes wide. He seemed taken aback she'd care at all.

"Welcome to being cared about, Al, you'll never know peace or privacy again... but the people make it worth it." Angel says, slinging an arm over the Overlord's shoulders. "I do have one question though... how can you be, y'know, in a soul deal, and still keep your souls?"

"Ah, that's simple, negotiation. Technically, there are still a number of souls under Husker, who is under myself. It's about how you word the contract."

"Oh... okay, that checks. So... how'd you meet her majesty?"

"Well, after a number of midnight rendevo-.. I'm kidding your majesty. We had an unexpected meeting under unusual circumstances, and a deal was the only way to prevent being trapped somewhere annoying. That's all I am willing to say on the matter."

Lucifer's red eyes seemed to See something before he nodded to himself. "I can see the truth of what you're hiding, sinner. Are you in danger from my wife? Does she... punish disobedience like she used to with the hellborne staff?"

"...perhaps, but it is harder to reach across realms. So for the most part it is additional limitations or draining power from afar. Annoyances, at best, but at least my skin stays on."

"Listen, I don't like you... but Charlie does, and I know what she's going to ask me. I could do it... but I need to know why you and Charlie have a chain between you. I can see it plain as day." Lucifer asks, voice glacial.

"It's not-..." Charlie starts.

"It's for a Favour, so do unclench. She wanted Charlotte on a soulchain to control her indirectly, but... well, that didn't quite fit the definition of Protection, from my perspective. Unfortunate, that. But a Favour allowed someone to share information about angelic steel to another party without repercussions, so it was necessary."

"...if I find out you're lying, and I do this, I will be actively able to smite you. You know that, right?" Lucifer says, again, not a threat... just... stating a fact.

"Well, given I was willing to allow it earlier for the off chance it might break the deal or kill me, I would say go right ahead, Sire." Alastor shrugged, "But if you want a deal..."

"Nope. Now, bend over," everyone ignored Angel's gale of laughter, "so I can reach the stupid thing and shut your eyes. I mean everyone, of course."

The King does... something. A light almost brighter than the attempted smiting, smote-ening, smything? Who knows, burns through the room and the whole place vibrates as a metallic snap is heard.

Shadows zoom up the walls and across the floors, the room fills with symbols and radios crackle to full volume momentarily. It settles quickly. "Apologies, that was a lot of power rushing back at once, it was allow it to manifest, or explode."

"....I suppose I owe you thanks, your majesty." Alastor said, saying without saying the implicit thanks. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I believe that there's a rather pesky insect requiring extermination. Come along Husker, Angel... let's take the Void!"

Husk groans, but it's swallowed up by the sudden wave of shadows.

"Dad, can you clean up the salt? I don't want anyone else to get hurt." Charlie asked, "And... and then ould we go and talk somewhere? About mum? And the things she did? I think we need to..."

"Anything for you Charlie. You know that." Lucifer reassured, snapping away the mess.

As they left the kitchen, there was a tiny cry of despair from niffty, who had escaped her confinement too late to play in the Pain Snow.

-----------

Flaming debris rained down upon the few employees Angel had pointed out should probably go down with the ship, as the Studio burned. Husker helped tie the fuckers up.

Bits of Valentino rained down upon them all, as Alastor finished tearing the man to ribbons. Jazz and maniacal laughter filled the air.

A drone paused overhead and Alastor smiled into the camera. "Oh don't get jealous, picture box, you're next on the list!" he coos, and holds upValentino's head. "See you soon!"

The drone jerks away at speed.

Angel fumbles to catch the skull thrown his way, screams and drops it. "No, no thank you I don't need it on my wall, thanks..."

"Ah, a pity."

"Thanks for this... Boss." Angel grins, and feels mild relief to maifest a chain that wasn't pink for once. It disintegrates. "What?"

"You have your freedom, I can't and won't uphold the deal you had with the Moth, it's vile... but if you want a deal wherein I place you in charge of the other souls from the moth and you do what you will with their skills, consent and some funding... that's up to you."

"Whiskers?"

"I'd say read the fine print... but yeah, that sounds like a good deal to me. Any chance you'd let me go, boss?"

"You know, you've caught me in a good mood, why not?"

Husk's chain snaps too.

"Now, who wants to go to my room for a stiff-..." Angel grins, Alastor glares. "drink of some top notch whickey, and we shall renegotiate your potential contracts, hmm? We can come and kill the picture box and the doll another day. Ah, I'm sure dear Charlotte will be delighted to hear of your freedom, Angel! And yours, Husker!"

"Yeah, yeah, love ya too you emtionally repressed murder machine!" Angel grins, pulling the pair of Overlords towards him in an expected hug. Husk makes a confused mrrrp? and Alastor, he made a small Bleat.

Angel's eyes go ROUND in delight, looking at the pair. "Holy fuck, if I knew you guys came with sound effects like that I would've been squishing you into hugs far earlier, that's cute as hell. Like nuggsy-level adorrable..."

"husker, your man seems over-tired and clearly delusional. Do get him under control while I prepare a portal?"

Husk snorts. "You're on your own, Al, anyway I know you're fawn'd of us."

For that, he gets no warning as the floor turns to shadow void.

Husk and Angel would maintain it was worth it though.

Alastor pinches his nose, exhausted. "Ah, but the show must go on, hmmm? Let's see what happens once the curtain rises after such a lengthy... intermission."

His smile fade out last, as the overlord travels to the hotel with his hapless passengers. There were deals to make and Heaven to overthrow... no time to waste!

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

End

I had a vague idea and it spiralled, so tired.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

*it's literally just. an assumption. based on "we know she's possessing golden freddy in the logbook" and "andrew in fazbear frights maaaaybe parallel???" and yet the entire fanbase is like "this is canon tho. angry little girls are epic" (which. true, but)

EDIT: on the mike one meant to say "three weeks for body to skeletize" so how the hell is this man still walkin. does he have just some super sweet glue and is a walkin skeleton or

[rubra-wav]

Why So Blue? Vox x Reader

[ Part 1 - A Like Morning Unlike Others ]

A/N: I have a kind of loose idea of where I'm maybe taking this one, but I am very much open to any suggestions.

People asked to be tagged in what was going to be part 2 to the oneshot. My ideas changed a bit with this tho, and it's being rewritten as a fic from the start - sorry if this isn't what you really had in mind w that request 😭

[ Taglist ] @gigglesandshits @serendipitous-fernweh @valentinosbabycakes @ seriouslyaverage (won't let me @ ???)

[ part 2 ] >>

Cw: SFW, Gn!Reader, slight staticmoth reference

The morning you first showed up was like any other for the Video Star.

As always, Vox awoke at 7:00 am on the dot, staring at the ceiling for a couple of seconds as his system warmed up properly for the day ahead.

After the 'sleep' cleared from his mind, he sat up and then climbed from his bed to quickly change before swiping his phone off his nightstand as he walked to the personal kitchen in his part of the building (he had it installed so he didnt have to see his colleagues before his persona was up to snuff) and began scrolling through his emails.

He opted for those from Carmine rather than Velvette or Valentino.

It was frankly too fucking early to deal with whatever bullshit they were yelling about on seemingly all of his socials in his mind. (a decision he'd come to regret rather soon)

Last night's hangover still clung to him, but he pushed through it. He was rather happy all things considered. Carmine's email confirmed that she was on board with partnering up for personal surveillance systems without much questioning, thankfully.

He was about to get even fucking richer.

He grinned widely at the prospect as he leisurely made his coffee - black, naturally - fantasising about how he'd be able to spy on hell's citizens even more with them literally installing surveillance cameras into their own homes for security purposes.

Those poor, desperate idiots practically exploit themselves!

Vox chuckled at the thought, humming as he walked in the direction of his broadcast room, scrolling to look over the email Carmine sent once again to fully understand all agreements. To try to see what he'd be able to push her into doing potentially.

The hatch to his lair broadcast room opened loudly and closed just as loudly behind him as his footfalls echoed in the silent room against the cold tiles.

Vox didn't look up once as he made his way to his seat.

He didn't need to.

He knew where everything was in here as nobody else was ever in here. And if they were?

Well, those demons wouldn't be 'employed' much longer, we'll say that.

His seat squeaked as he sat on it, sipping his coffee as he swiped through some more notifications.

He glanced at his monitor momentarily as he took a deep sip of coffee that would gross anyone else out, then promptly choked on it, gracelessly spitting some onto his keyboard and lap.

He felt truly chilled to the bone for the first time in a long while.

Wide, red eyes watched in horror as a very drunk version of himself from last night met him. In the video, he was shaking his hips from where he stood on a bar while singing (he assumed) shittily if his memory served right.

The video was muted from where it played on the screen of every monitor in his room, but he expected it.

His frozen present self watched himself in the video as drunk Vox stumbled and then proceeded to topple off-camera to the ground.

His instant assumption was that Valentino or Velvette had posted it online, but that was quickly off the cards when he noticed that not only were both of them watching him while laughing with no phones in their hands, but it was posted from his own fucking Sinstagram account.

It already had over a million likes, and it'd been up for only an hour at this point. His colleagues wrote surprised comments underneath, asking if he meant to post it. Valentino adding that Vox looked cute in it either way.

He could feel his fear and anger rising, loud zaps of electricity emitting from him already as his claws dug into either armrest of his desk chair, leaving long scratch marks on them which exposed the padding within.

Then he read the bottom caption of the looped post of himself and fully lost it.

'For someone who talks so big about being ahead technologically, it was awfully easy to hack old Boxy here.'

Vox lets out a loud, enraged yell, slamming his fist on his desk, promptly causing himself to Bluescreen and knocking out much of Pentagram's electricity in the process despite not being plugged into his set-up.

-

On the other side of the city, you laugh loudly as you watch the press conference where the Tech demon overlord fought to clean up his image.

It began just a few minutes after you were exposed to Vox's rage in the form of your lights shutting off.

It didn't affect your setup, of course. A certain someone you knew had helped you craft it, and it ran on a different server.

While others were still waiting for their shit to get back in order after Vox stopped plastering his rather strained grin on every screen, you were watching the press conference in one window while admiring how quickly his men raced to try and patch up the code you'd gotten through last time in another.

Of course, it hardly would do anything for you the next time around you decided to clown on him.

You shifted into a cross-legged position on the floor, glancing between the mess of old and new monitors surrounding you all interlocking with equally messy and tangled cables.

You passively wondered if anyone had been killed during all this, expecting yes, but not paying much attention to it. You couldn't do anything about what he decided to pull in response to your attacks.

Anything for your entertainment.

You cracked your fingers loudly as you began to prepare for the next bag of shit you'd be leaving on his doorstep.

Snickering with a smile, you watched his hypnosis ability activate, manipulating everyone watching outside of your own eyes.

They would forget this, but you wouldn't. And neither would Vox. You'd make sure all of them remembered you eventually.

Snorts and giggles echoed out in the silence of your small, shitty apartment as you mulled over all the things you had planned for the next few months.

Jesus christ, this would be fun.

Yeah, this reader isn't a good person either. They just wanna fuck around with Vox as much as they can and don't care much who becomes cannon fodder in the process.

I was considering also writing pt. 2 into this as well, but I figured that I would do this as just a taster for this series starting for the first post. Pt. 2 will be soon 🙏

Why So blue Masterlist (not much here yet obv)

Main Masterlist

[onceinawhilemoon]

Mycroft loved his mother. He loved her so fucking much. Hell, it was because of that love that he put up with Richter’s shit for as long as he did, because he wanted to believe that she might get better, that he and Sherlock (ESPECIALLY Sherlock) might have their mother back.

He took it upon himself to oversee her treatment, hiring a psychiatrist and relocating to a beautiful Mediterranean island so she could have some peace and quiet. A change of scenery far away from the prying eyes of those who had known them in London. He took her out of the place where she'd lost the love of her life and suffered greatly because of it.

“I always wanted such a nice pond in London. It looks so peaceful.”

“Mycroft knew you would like it.”

He knew exactly what she liked and provided it. He knew how much she'd wanted a pond in London and gave her one in Cordona. I can only imagine how many other things Violet had wished for, which he made possible with the advantage of moving to a new home in a new location. The Cabinet of Curiosities is one that comes to mind..

He didn’t let her suffer the public humiliation and stigma of mental illness. He went out of his way to keep it a secret so she could take her time and recuperate in the privacy of her own home, no doubt employing all his resources and connections to smother any spark of gossip before it even started.

He never thought of abandoning her until she became a serious threat to Sherlock.

The sheer protectiveness in his confrontation with Richter, “I’m not letting you anywhere near my mother again,” breaks my heart. Even after being pushed to the brink and seeing with his own eyes how much worse she'd gotten, he still hoped to fix things and help her get better..

I’ve thought long and hard about the moment he said, “She must be sent to a legitimate medical facility,” and I really don’t think he was sugarcoating the word “asylum” here. He'd already chosen in-home care over committing her to indignity. He witnessed Richter’s charlatan methods. He knew that what awaited her in asylums would have been even worse. When he said “legitimate medical facility,” I believe he meant it literally. With his high position in the government and generational wealth, he could have arranged for exclusive medical care far removed from any traditional psychiatric institution at the time to ensure his mother received the best and most humane treatment possible, because he now had a solid example of what INHUMANE treatment looked and sounded like.

He'd been going the extra mile for her and Sherlock almost all his life. This would have been just another stretch of the road for him, but for better or worse, it was never meant to be.

Even after her death, he still honored her memory. A single word to Yasmin Sertel and the Chronicle would publish the most beautiful and celebratory of obituaries despite all the harsh realities behind closed doors. He made sure the world remembered her brilliance, charm, and sense of humor, not the mental illness that had consumed her. Most importantly, he made sure that she remained in the loving memory of Sherlock. Her baby boy.

He did his best to have her positively remembered by everyone else, except maybe by himself.

The way he speaks of her years later stands out to me when it's compared to Sherlock. It’s always “her” or “she,” rarely, if ever, “mother” or “our mother” except for that one time in his letter to Sherlock “One presumes by now you have visited our mother’s final resting place” and even that feels distant and formal..

“Your are YOUR mother’s son” I can’t help but read detachment here. He’s acknowledging Sherlock’s closer bond with her while at the same time distancing himself from his own identity as her son. The way he said “SHE did this to you” also betrays his internalized resentment.

Her attempt to drown his brother, her own child, (IN THE VERY SAME POND MYCROFT HAD GIFTED HER I MUST STRESS), was a grave personal betrayal that I don’t think Mycroft will ever fully recover from.

He keeps reminding Sherlock to consider the bigger picture of her death and Richter’s malpractice, but I think Mycroft himself struggles to do the same when it comes to that moment. He blames Richter’s treatment, but he can’t separate her final act from the mother he loved.

Selling all her possessions and keeping nothing feels like a visceral, almost misguided reaction to that betrayal. It’s as if he didn’t want any reminders of her to stay. Heirlooms like her pocket watch went to strangers and vultures instead of their rightful heirs, which is just... sad. At least he sold them to the highest bidders, which hopefully made more than enough money to fund Sherlock’s education and upbringing. And I like to think he let Sherlock keep a few things because he knew better than anyone just how much he still loved her, even if Mycroft lost some of his own love and respect for her. (My personal canon is that the locket thing Sherlock wears on his wrist used to belong to Violet)

It’s much harder for Mycroft to reconcile the loving mother of his childhood with the detached, abusive woman she became. He never had a Jon to help him cope and filter out the pain, so the aweful memories linger and sting. Even in very rare moments when he tried to bridge the gap (*cough* preparing for the play *cough*), Violet rejected him. However well-meaning that rejection may have been (prioritizing her youngest), coming from her of all people seriously hurt him.

Sherlock was at least able to find joy and make some happy memories in Cordona, but for Mycroft, that entire year was a bleak and dark chapter in his life. I can't blame him for wanting to leave it behind as quickly as possible or for resenting it, especially the parts about his mother.

The love we feel for someone becomes overshadowed by the hurt they caused, even if it was unintentional. The heartbreaking irony here is that Mycroft is now on the other end of this stick. Sherlock is unable to look past the fact that he lied to him, unable to see his good intentions or lifelong sacrifices. Much like Mycroft with Violet, Sherlock also clings to resentment. Talk about generational dysfunction..

To Sherlock, Mycroft’s avoidance coping looks like cold-heartedness. It makes it seem as though he didn’t care about their mother, and the moment she died, he packed up and left dragging Sherlock along like he'd been finally relieved of the burden of caring for her, when in reality, what happened was traumatic for Mycroft, too.

Especially because Mycroft loved him and loved his mother, so very deeply and in his own selfless, thankless, and practical ways.

[sco-ot]

even if alicent decided that fuck it, she wanted rhaenyra as queen and her kids safe and decided to take them to essos, they still wouldn't be safe.

1. the essosi care about westerosi politics and have been involved before. we see this with jaehaerys having to intervene between pentos and tyrosh, something that they asked him to do, jaehaerys also employed rego draz of pentos as master of coin. when his daughter saera targaryen ended up in essos, jaehaerys said that lys would have waged a war to keep her and despite not being from westeros some of her sons went to present their claims at the great council of 101, probably supported by various essosi nobles. we see this with daemon and laena, who were hosted by nobles, who tried to demand their daughter's hands in marriage in return for their hospitality. and we also see this when viserys and daenerys are hosted and protected by essosi nobles, who all wanted something in return.

so even if alicent and her children had escaped to essos, there was no guarantee that the essosi would have let them live there peacefully without bothering them, asking for dragons and marriage, offering to put aegon on the throne for favours or asking them to intervene in essosi politics.

2. even if despite the risks they decided that they would go, how would they do it? if they tried before viserys died they would be declared traitors and have prices on their heads, and even if they managed to escape westeros there is no guarantee that some essosi wouldn't kill them for the gold. and if they escaped and no one came for them, how would they live? daemon and laena lived on the charity of essosi nobles, alicent and her children, should they escape would likely be forced to do the same bc any money that they managed to save/steal would eventually run out, and said nobles would only host them if they believed that they had something to offer them.

if they tried after viserys' death, then they would have to orchestrate it before rhaenyra could come to kl, and before otto could crown aegon. bc if rhaenyra came to kl and they were still there, aegon, aemond, jaehaerys (and maelor) would all be in danger. and in all this how would they get daeron? he's in oldtown, any messages/ravens he gets are probably watched and flying to get him would have given pursuers time to catch up and stop their escape.

and after all these challenges, should they make it to essos and find a nice hidden plot of land that can sustain them all and settle down they still wouldn't be safe. dragons are hardly inconspicuous, especially four grown adults and two hatchlings (one of those adults is vhagar, who is literally the size of a small mountain), someone will realise where they are eventually and daemon, having plenty of friends and contacts in essos could easily send an assassin to remove the threat.

so no matter what they do, they will never be safe.

[winonaparadise]

short story 💯

wrote a very quick story about a class i took in college. if you like my writing in my videos you may like this

Five years ago today I was clawing through state university. I had switched majors in an effort to come away with something more material from my college experience – but I was also trying to earn as many credits with as few courses to keep my schooling short and cheap.

I took a heavy weighted class in “media law.” A subject notoriously as intricate as it is absolutely fucking stupid. Anything you could learn, Disney will change tommorrow. The professor was an adjunct, splitting his time between the humble basement where boys with Pulp Fiction posters in their dorms fiddled with cameras and the actual law school where he was employed some miles down the road. I have never seen Pulp Fiction, but I’ve fiddled with enough cameras and enough of the boys who own them to have reviewed it twice. This is not a problem to me now.

Then I was stupid. Twenty. And basically friendless. I spent all my time trying to make something the same way the universe spent billions of years pouring hot soup into holes and hoping life would bubble out. I studied Japanese during quiet matches of PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds. I never got a win, and I never got an “A” in Japanese.

Weeks of school went by as I skimmed textbooks, got high, and thought about talking to literally anyone. Academic words danced around the edges of my brain like sand. I wrote essays on the same autopilot I write today. Feverish. Flowing. Fantasizing about what it would be like to go out with someone instead of texting a girl who now lived in Japan and making ramen noodles while listening for footsteps in a digital warzone.

I did all my work. I submitted it on something called “canvas” that the muscle memory in my fingers still types in search bars to this day. I never checked my grades. I knew they were bad.

Classes dragged me through the week on a bungee cord. I lived a block away from the bulk of them and found myself drifting in halls of buildings I’d never attended just to keep myself from meandering back home to draw a bad comic about a girl who lived in hell. 

I knew nobody. I went nowhere. I struggled to do classwork alone on outdoor benches dreaming of someone speaking to me. I needed to live in hell instead.

My media law professor was late the weekend after our first term essays were due. I don’t know what mode of transportation he took to get from one school to the other but today the Carolina sun had drenched him sweaty. We were chilly waiting for him to begin.

“Just about every single one of you failed.” He spat and chugged coffee through the entire period. “While I first was grading I thought I was the one who failed.”

He didn’t let the moment of respite last. “But I also did something I’ve never done before.” He paced like my father did when a restaurant was closed early. “I gave out my first perfect score. Which prevents me from grading on a curve.”

He huffed, he assigned a new reading, and he rushed out like he had lit dynamite. “Do better!” “What an asshole.” The girl who sat next to me in every class spoke as if she had been holding her breath. “Fuck him and fuck whoever got that hundred.”

“I know right!” I launched in on her anger, feeling it too. Back and forth we complained. We walked off campus together. She had long blonde hair and towered over me. I had felt ugly and mousey next to her, but today I felt like her equal. It felt good to bitch.

“I got a fucking 50. What about you?”

“It wasn’t pretty.” I recalled how I stayed up the night before the assignment was due. I milked bullshit into a puree. I got a rush of adrenaline from killing someone with a shotgun through a door in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Pochinki. I was probably close to being expelled. “This class is too fucking hard,” she smoked and shook her head by a bus stop on Tate Street. “I’m not about to lose my freetime over it.”

“Right.” I imagined her at parties. Black silhouettes against colored lights and deafening music. Like The Social Network. “We should be partners for the next assignment,” she got out her phone and passed it to me for my number. I typed it in. I waved her off on the bus. We did the assignment together. We texted each other about our studies. We joked about finding the guy who got the perfect score and beating him senseless. I thought about talking to her about my art or what we were making in other classes, but never did.

Towards the end of the semester I had to plan the next. A whirlpool churned in my stomach as I clicked on “grades” on my campus’ online portal. I had an A+ in a single course. 

Media Law.

My friend from class texted me that she was dreading the final. I texted her that if we failed I would kill Mr. Perfect Score. She texted “lol.”

She passed the course. I got my degree so I assume I did too. We stopped texting.

That professor emailed me asking me to take a course at the law school down the road. He said he would let me sit in and see if I wanted to change majors a third time. I never replied.

A law degree would just make Mr. Perfect Score a hundred times more punchable.