#ox and al

[maladaptivedongdreamer]

*slides in for sec time today*

mmhmm..

hi..? ox... you .. ermm.. yknow..? kinda remember me or not..

it's me al

OMG AL

Hello bbyyyy

WHERE YOU BEEN

I just came back from hiatus sjgvziyvsihvsjvzgvgj

[mooneater0-0]

Here to drop my delusions:3 I wanted to give wade another ex so I made a oc I’m just straight up unfit dumping enjoy my brain worms

[chaoticghostgremlin]

Patient Zero prompt idea for you:

Val wakes up with a slightly runny nose that also feels congested. As the day goes on, he starts feeling worse and worse. Vox and Velvette tell him to rest. Vox takes care of him (he also hates that Val doesn’t cover is mouth when he coughs or sneezes plus Val just throws his used snotty tissues everywhere). The next day, Vox wakes up feeling a little off, but not enough to be concerned about. As the day goes on, he starts showing signs of the nasty cold that Val has. Instead of resting however, Vox tries to go along his day as if nothings wrong, that is until Velvette hears Vox sneezing (he doesn’t kno that she’s home) and she confronts him and tries to force him to rest, of course Vox is a cocky stubborn man. Velvette now has to take care of both men, one is absolutely disgusting and the other is stubborn and in denial that he’s even sick even tho it’s obvious. The next day, Velvette wakes up with a sore throat, and a stuffy nose that progressively becomes worse throughout the day, when sickly sniffly and sneezy Vox notices Velvette, he suddenly feels bad for her as she tends to get the worse fevers. Now all 3 of them are sick and easily get on each others nerves.

Sorry that’s all I can think of. Also sorry that this is so damn long 🤣. Doesn’t have to go this way, you can change it to how you want it, but here’s my prompt for it!

Cw : Contagion , mention of Val's poison, a bit of descriptive mess

Thank you for prompt!! I went a slightly different direction and Voxxy will caretake in part 2. I haven't written much in years but this was fun

Patient Zero part 1

The hell flu had been very bad this flu season and half of Val's employees were out sick. But not before they so generously made the porn overlord so sick. 

On a Saturday morning, Val blinked his eyes open slowly . He couldn't see shit so he put on his glasses but his vision was still so blurry. He had a wheeze to his breathing and he couldn't breathe out his nose. He swore if Vox brought home another cat he was going to spank him. The throbbing of his head indicated this wasn't allergies though. The moth groaned and noticed his partners werent in bed. He slowly got up and stretched , stretching out his aching wings and body. The shift in his sinuses from getting up made him sneeze twice "ah-ah-ah-ah?? " he fanned his face and was released uncovered towards the ground "ACHEWWW ACHEWWW , conyo, disculpe" .He sprayed towards the ground, a faint red mist of poison making it obvious when he didn't cover.  This was going to be a long day. He put on a fluffy housecoat and shivered.

 He went downstairs to find Vel and Vox eating breakfast , a coffee and plate set out at his seat for him. "Gracias, mis amores" Valentino said , then let out a few coughs as he sat down. Velvette shot him a glare and said "you better not get me sick I have an important fashion show coming up, cover your mouth mothman". Val was very nonchalant when it came to keeping his germs to himself ,which most of the time made him patient zero. "Disculpe, meñeca " Val said, though he didn't mean it.  Val picked at his omelette , not feeling very hungry. The taste of the coffee brew was lovely on his sore throat. He sniffled obnoxiously from the steam. Vox gave him a look and Val blushed .  Vox wordlessly  slid him the tissue box they kept on the dining table and Val said "thanks mi amor". He got up , grabbed a few tissues and went into the hallway. The moth demon blew his nose very wetly and loudly. Velvette cringed but at least he walked away. Valentino came back and sat at the table putting the used snot filled tissues beside his plate on the table . Vel rolled her eyes and said "I'm leaving before patient zero makes me sick", grabbing her bag quickly and putting on her shoes. She then walked out the apartment, going towards her studio.

 Valentino said "patient zero? That's dot true mi amor" , looking offended. "She has a point , baby boy. You kind of don't keep your germs to yourself and get spray everywheres" Vox said, shrugging. "But you like my fluids Voxxy "Valentino said with a wink and Vox sighed. "Just be careful alright? Don't overwork yourself " Vox said and kissed the moths forehead. What did that earn him? His arm getting sprayed with germs when Valentino went into a coughing fit. "Ewww, maybe you should stay home actually. You sprayed meeee. I have to run my antivirus protocol immidiatly. I am NOT catching this shit Val" Vox said, looking at his robotic arm that had specks of red and spray on it now. The tech overlord said "I have to go to work, try not to contimanate the living space love" and tentively gave the sick overlord a hug. Valentino melted into his touch, shivering and appreciating the warmth which Voxxy radiated. Vox ran an anti virus protocol , zoning out and making sure his body wouldn't catch this. He didn't hear the moths breath hitch and then all of a sudden Val sneezed loudly "heh-?? USHIEWS ISHIEWW ISHIEWWW CHEWW HXNEWW, oh disculpe amorcito. " . The moth had gotten Vox's chest, spraying him with snot and red mist. "I'm uh gunna go change,Jesus Christ. Damn you bitch. Salud.youre lucky you sneeze so adorably”The tech overlord muttered and lead the shaky moth to the bedroom.

The lanky moth leaned against his boyfriend and shivered as he was guided go the bedroom. He had a harsh coughing fit, mostly uncovered but pulling his robe up to his face at the last second. The air had germs and red mist in it around them. Vox sighed and said “Can you please make an effort to cover your mouth? I have important meetings pequeña pollila” . “Mm sorry heh-ISHIEWW ISHIEWW V-voxxy. Disculpe” Val said sleepily and aimed the sneezes into his robe sleeve. He cringed as it left red specks but wasn't obvious since his robe was red. The porn overlord let the tv man tuck him in bed . 

Everytime Val was patient fucking zero and it pissed him and Vel off. The tech overlord felt a bit of pity for him though and got him some water , pain relievers, fever reducers and cough medecine. He also brought a few boxes of tissues into the bed and put the meds and water on the bedside table for when Val would wake up. The moth snored and Vox leaned over, taking off his sunglasses. Val shivered and curled up in a ball as Vox kissed his forehead then left for work.Vox went off to work and hoped against all odds that he wouldn't fuckin catch this thing.

—------------------------------------

Notes : My favorite part of this was adding Spanish . I'm not fluent but figured Franglish is similar to Spanglish enough. Hope someone enjoyed. Again, my grammar isn't the greatest due to learning disabilities and sometimes forget words in English . 

 Meñeca=doll

Mi amor = my love

MI amores= my loves 

Disculpe= excuse me 

Conyo=damn 

Amorcito= my love,my darling, my honey 

Pequeña Pollila= little moth

[rykno-j]

Overheating (1.5/?) H/azbin H/otel

characters present: v/al, v/ox

small disclaimer: if i wrote v/al in a way that made him soft/likeable just know im not excusing any of his actions okay? okay.

No word count bc i decided to draw instead

Yeah it's on paper.. digital art? whats that :')

i totally forgot to leave space for dialogue hence its squashed af

Here's what they say, bc my handwriting is messy:

Val: Vox, you have a fever.

Vox: I D-Do Not. Screens are normally hotter after a whole day-

Val: Vox. It's 8AM. How long have you been awake?

Vox: 18 hours..

Val: Go rest, dammit.

<- Part 1

[thedaily-beer]

Ochs Père & Fils Ox Double IPA (Picked up at a Carrefour City in Paris). A 3 of 4. This is on the maltier side in both the nose and body with quite a bit of caramel malt sweetness, but there’s still a decent amount of bitterness and some faint citrus and slight spice/pine hop notes in the nose and body.

[hcppyhotel]

sometimes i enjoy when angel's muse perks up just to annoy the v's and then he, immediately, gets punished for it.

[amandasgeekblog]

They already have I think :)

I just knew I needed to whisper into the wind and it would show up in 5 minutes

[evilminji]

Okay but I just? Made myself snort?

Imagine~☆ Grandma Fenton. Young, hot, built like a tank.

She meets a SUAVE and well muscled man of mystery. With a CAPE! Fabulous facial hair. There are ninjas. She was hunting the Supernatural. Very, very badly.

But still! That Fenton STRENGTH. That smile! That "just back handed an assassin through a wall"! Mystery man is... intrigued ™.

They do unspeakable things to each other hot young nuible bodies against every surface they can find. There are explosions and sword fights. She has a BLAST! It was a great trip.

Prooooobably should have gotten more then his name though!

Maybe used protection!

WHOOPS ™!

Ah well, she always DID want kids! A jack is a wonderful kiddo! Strong as an ox! Bit obsessive, but what Fenton ISNT?

She goes about her merry way. Things to do! Monsters to HUNT! Crocodiles to WRESTLE! Feeling like... she's... forgetting? Something? But what could it BE?

It's only after YEARS, as she's retired, down a leg (damn Sasquatch) and two fingers, that she squints at some hoity toity shin-dig on the TV... and... huh.....

You know? That lil Wayne kid reminds her of someone. It's... it's on the tip of her to- OH FUCK! *slams down the morning paper* she forgot to tell her sprogs DAD!

Shit! He didn't know he got her preggers!!!

Which? Is how Ra's AL Ghul? Get a VERY sheepish call from that lion of a woman he had... relations *unholy smirk that makes SO MANY people around him uncomfortable* with, informing him? He not ONLY has a son.

But a grandson and granddaughter.

Neither fit to inherent, obviously. But his blood has run true. His son married the most powerful woman he could locate. Because studying the borders between life and death. And can snap lesser men in half like a twig. Grandchildren? Much of the same.

So obviously, he shall become... Supportive. A loving grandfather.

Why? Because he has no standards for them! They are but a pleasant suprise. The bloodline MIGHT be useful. Eventually. But for now? Charm champaign.

EVERYBODY loves Grandpapa Ra's, after all. :)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @the-witchhunter

[noble-kale]

Mine's is the snake 🐍 and put yours in the tags too if you want

And while you're hear, please share and donate to be able to help this family protect themselves from the harsh elements of winter.

Their goal is to reach 25,000 asap, and it very achievable if we all help.

[iamumbra195]

Not really in the DC fandom and I don't really read many comics but I've been seeing some videos and posts making headcanons about the Al-Ghul family being Muslim and it pisses me off so much.

This interpretation is deeply rooted in Islamophobia and the ignorant notion that every Arab is a Muslim and therefore a "terrorist". The Al-Ghuls are not and have never been Muslims and any parts of the religion found in their characters are likely due to the fact that Arab culture has a lot of aspects of Islam mixed into it and because again, people think that being Arab and being Muslim are the same thing and a lot of the comic writers are white Americans who commonly have this misconception about Arabs.

I'm not going to go into the specifics of everything because 1) I don't know all that much about canon and 2) this is a little hard to explain but I will give several examples that pretty much disprove that headcannon because The Al-Ghuls do things that are considered major sins in Islam on the daily.

Ra's runs an assassin league/cult and despite what many people think killing people is a major sin in Islam except in very specific scenarios where it may be excused like in self-defence or in war. And what the Al-Ghuls do? That isn't excusable in any way.

Ra's' name in and of itself is proof. His name means the Demon Head and I promise you a proper practicing Muslim would not call themself that or commit the atrocities he has on innocent people. I don't know if this is true but I saw on the wiki that apparently a character named Gerhardt asked him if he was a man or a fiend from hell and Ra's, said that he was both and neither and that he was "Ra's al-Ghul". A Muslim would not associate themself with Hell, a place where evildoers are punished in the afterlife.

Talia committed zina (fornication), yet another major sin, and wears extremely revealing clothing despite the fact that modesty is an integral part of the religion.

The Al-Ghuls drink wine, eat pork and apparently Damian was often fed ox blood soup as a child despite the fact that all these things are explicitly forbidden for Muslims to consume in verses of the Quran. (To clarify a bit, in case you're confused about the ox blood soup, Muslims are forbidden from consuming animal blood because it is considered filthy and harmful, much like pork and wine.)

Not to mention the whole thing about Ra's nearly being 500 years old and the Lazarus Pits apparently reviving him every time he dies... but that's a whole can of worms I don't know enough about to open

So yeah, the headcanon that the Al-Ghuls are Muslims perpetuates harmful stereotypes about Islam as a whole. There probably is more to be said about this topic but unfortunately, I haven't read many comics and have only watched a few of the DC animated movies so I can't say much more.

Feel free to correct me if I've said something incorrect or missed something important.

[novy2sirius]

Vietnamese Astrology Traits

• Remember that enemy signs are still fatally attracted to one another but will not last in the long run and things between them could end badly. The matrix tries to set you up and leeches off your emotional energy which is why it sets you up for failure in some cases

• Your numerology is also important and may overpower some of your astrology traits. The negative traits will only apply if you’re at a lower vibration in life

Vietnamese Signs

The Rat: favored by the matrix, if anyone hurts them the matrix will come after them, intelligent when it comes to how they navigate life, adapts to surroundings quickly, most likely to gain wealth (second to the goat, pig, and cat trine), determined, lively, manipulative, will leave out parts of stories where they did something bad, greedy, stubborn, always nervous

The Ox/buffalo: grounded, often comedians, one of the least sexual signs unless they’re born under 1/5/9 energy, loyal, leaders, lots of willpower, strong, dependable, stubborn, blunt, gaslights a lot, can be violent, communicates poorly, too judgmental of others, petty

The Tiger: masculine, good health (unless numerology goes against this), sexiest sign, good fighters/strong, strong/muscular build/fitness model body, good at body building, go getters, smooth talkers, born leader, age gracefully, they have it the hardest in the usa (the usa was founded in their enemy sign year which is the year of the monkey), most likely to cheat (especially the men), childlike temper tantrums, know it alls, aggressive

The Cat: easily understands people/natural psychologist, observant, great designers, kind, creative, stealthy, quick witted, good chess players, third smartest sign, strong money maker, shouldn’t eat eggs or chicken, pessimistic, selfish, plays lots of mind games, often insecure

The Dragon: charismatic, adventurous, intelligent with the choices they make in life, sexy, energetic, powerful, confident, masculine, great fighters, bossy, rude, complicated at times, too demanding, arrogant

The Snake: wisest sign, intuitive, seductive, calm, second most influential/persuasive sign, observant, analytical, vengeful, best liars/manipulators, holds grudges, gets jealous easily

The Horse: very hard workers (workhorses), positive, animated, energetic, warm-hearted, has it the hardest in the matrix since its enemy sign is the rat (the sign the matrix favors), stubborn, superficial, self centered, impatient, impulsive, very delusional or in denial constantly

The Goat: most likely to gain wealth other than the rat (even more than its friend signs the cat and pig), the most good looking sign, most influential/persuasive sign, nurturing/caring, romantic/flirtatious, fun energy, go with the flow, usually into both spirituality and religion (they dabble into it all), funny, high maintenance, manipulative, lazy, has a hard life, lots of anxiety, gullible, emotionally sensitive/the softest sign, needs to constantly be pampered, shouldn’t be aggressive because it ends bad

The Monkey: smartest sign, popular, funniest sign, sociable, intuitive, brave, very curious, plays games with people, selfish, liars, egotistical, untrustworthy at times, always trying to get in others business

The Rooster: confident, humorous, loyal, one track minded, passionate, independent, observant, outgoing, talkative, narcissistic, control freak, bad temper/overly aggressive at times, hypocritical, picky

The Dog: very hard working, loves attention, loyal, honest, protective of the people they love, committed to the people they love, reliable, witty, helpful, overly aggressive, exaggerates stories, stubborn at times, always paranoid

The Pig: humble, strong money maker, responsible, luckiest sign, creative, classy, foodie/food lover, they love sex, tolerant, intelligent, friendly, easily influenced by others, promiscuous, overly materialistic, laziest sign, second most likely sign to cheat, naive, overly emotional, flaky

Vietnamese Elements

Metal: always looks out for loved ones, perseverant, independent, must create their own success, enjoys their freedom, enjoys comfort, stubborn, wants a romantic partner that they can control, too demanding at times, stubborn

Water: creative, intuitive, sensitive, adaptive, empathetic, sympathetic, gains others trust easily, likable, talkative, everyone feels special around them, tries to hard to make everyone around them feel happy which can lead to sadness, people follow their lead, influences others minds easily, passive aggressive, emotionally manipulative

Wood: optimistic, open minded, good at socializing, active, confident, organized, family oriented, good marriage partner, good friends/colleagues, gets attached quickly, always improving as a person, overworks themselves, passive aggressive, gullible

Fire: ambitious, determined, leader, strong, seductive, attracts people to them easily, enthusiastic, very giving in relationships, inspires others easily, affectionate, adventurous, competitive, optimistic, always stresses, impatient, gets mad quick

Earth: wise, patient, loyal, trustworthy, perfectionist, stable, always makes challenging sacrifices for others, good at giving advice, serious, goes based on logic rather than emotions, controlling

[chaoticghostgremlin]

Me threatening to come back and make The V/ees sneeze. My favorite is poly V/ees I won't take questions

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i had a worm wiggle it's way into my head when 'work song' came on on my way home today.

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,949 | rated: T

cw: major character death (no gore, nothing descriptive, though it's stated that Eddie was sick and getting weaker, then implied that he dies.)

Eddie Munson’s mother was a witch.

He didn’t know this until he was stricken with the same sickness that took her from him years and years before, but he knows now.

He knows from the small chest he found buried deep in his and his Uncle’s attic one day after learning of his ailment, and the handful of months he should expect to have left, from the local doctor. 

The chest was brimming with scrolls, tomes, candles, stones, herbs, vials, even a small pewter cauldron.

“I shoulda known,” was all Wayne had said, heeding Eddie’s beckoning call that hazy afternoon. 

Eddie sorted through everything he had found; spending hours every day flipping through each book and journal, deciphering his mother’s handwriting and the spells she had inscribed onto the pages. 

He even started to try a few; his mother’s ‘powers’, per sae, had come from the earth around her, writing in the largest, most disheveled of the journals that all she had needed to do was to listen to Mother Earth herself, listen to what she had to tell her.

So, Eddie practiced.

Small things at first, like seamlessly re-attaching the snipped off head of a daisy back to it’s stem, snipping it off again only to regrow an identical one in it’s place. Even starting a broken branch of the pine outside the Munson home on it’s way to a new green version of what was lost.

Eddie counted himself very lucky that Wayne was not one to believe the church’s nearly unhinged ramblings about witchcraft being the work of the Devil, and let Eddie practice a couple of the other simpler things on him.

“Jus’ don’t go thinkin’ I’mma let you chop my head off, boy.”

Wayne’s body aching from following their ox around all day with the plow? “Here, drink this, it should help.” It did.

Couple of Wayne’s fingers get snapped under the same ox’s hoof? A little harder, but he managed; the digits sore and achy that night, but good as new come morning.

“There a hair spell in that book, Ed?” Wayne joked one morning over breakfast, a good three quarters of the way through the six months the doctor gave Eddie, and a couple after finding Maggie Munson’s secret.

“Hmmmm….I dunno Uncle Wayne,” Eddie flips through his journal absently, “I think a Get Your Hair Back spell is too close to a love charm to work right. You could end up with hair all over your body and not just on that beautiful, shiny, head o’yours.”

“Love spells are touchy,” Maggie’s journal had said, “There are a rumored few that work, but only for the truest forms. I’ve tried some simple potions and charms…Al still left..and if they didn’t work…” the rest was easily filled in. 

“Oh yeah? Then how's about a Cure What Ails Ya spell? Got one’a those in that there book?”

“Why? You feeling sick, Wayne?” Eddie half-jokes, trying to veer away from having this conversation with Wayne again.

Wayne’s quiet as Eddie focuses intently on the book infront of him, trying, and failing, to scoop up a bite of egg onto his fork without looking away.

“Ed,” his uncle starts, soft and pleading once again, “Is there really nothin’ that can help ya?”

Eddie huffs, dropping his fork onto his plate and pushing it and the journal away from him. Definitely something a younger boy would do, not the nearly 25 he is now. “Why don’t you give them a look, huh? ‘Cause I already have.”

“Ed–”

He snaps his head up to glare at the older man. “What is it Wayne? What?” Eddie snatches the journal back up off the table without looking. “I’ve looked okay? Through Mom’s and through every damn book in that attic. And there was nothing. Nothing! You think she would’ve left if there was?” He stands sharply, knocking the small faded blue table away as he does. “Would’ve left m—”

His free hand wraps around his middle, nausea and the spins taking him for a ride a the sudden movement.

“Hey, Hey, sit back down son.” Wayne stands as well, coaxing him back into his chair. 

The nausea spells have become more frequent, the dizziness even more so, as the months have worn on, so Wayne ties up Eddie’s hair (growing thinner by the day), walks the short few steps to the pitcher of water he’d pulled from the well that morning, and pours some into a bowl, grabbing a clean(-ish) rag on his way back. 

Wayne smoothes the cool damp rag over Eddie’s face and neck, slowly and deliberately until the nauseous feeling passes.

“‘M sorry, Uncle Wayne, I know you’re just worried.”

“It’s alrigh’ boy, I shouldn’t’a pushed.”

“I’m still doing better than most,” Eddie says, voice tilting up at the end, “I think it’s ‘cause of the magic.”

“Thoughtcha said there wasn’t no cure in that book.” Wayne states, moving to empty the bowl. 

“There’s not,” Eddie closes his eyes, relaxes back into his chair. “Doc thinks Ms. Wilson had the same as me and Ma, and you saw how quick it took her.”

“Mrs. Wilson was nearly 70, Ed.”

“Then how about that boy Carver? He was my age, and Doc gave him six when he came down with it too, was gone in two.”

Wayne shrugs, “The devil wanted him back sooner.”

Eddie barks out a laugh, lifting his head to catch a glimpse of his Uncle’s ‘desperately-trying-to-hide-his-smile’ smile.

Wayne jokes, but Eddie’s been contemplating this for a while now. When he had hit his second month, he was about the same as he was, steadily growing weaker, as what was expected, but nothing like how Ms. Wilson and Jason had looked in theirs. 

Hell, Jason had worked on the docks with Eddie since they were boys; both fit and lean, healthy young men with the musculature to show for their work.

That was when he’d found his mom’s books, and ever since, his health had slowed to a crawl. 

“I think using mom’s magic is helping me.”

Wayne is quiet, cleaning their plates from the table and dumbing the leftover eggs out the window to the pigs. 

“I think it’s your magic now, Eds.”

—---

And so it went.

Eddie’s given six months turned into a year, his magic growing from healing fingerbones, to mending their ox’s broken femur with ease. 

His year didn’t come without worsening symptoms though, and his previously well filled out overalls hung loose around him, his calves barely filling out the tops of his boots tied all the way tight. 

Wayne always kept the faith, so to speak, not a religious man by nature, but Eddie could hear him sometimes in the early morning and late night praying to “Whoever’s got their ears on up there,” to keep Eddie safe, to keep him in their sights when the time came. 

Eddie had been doing work of his own, too. Writing down anything new he found out while sitting with the Earth, listening, watching….

Mother told him through the whispers of the trees, the soft humming of the grass, that he’d know when it was time. 

And that time was within the next few days. 

He felt it in his bones, he felt it in the air when Wayne passed him his birthday gift (a flaky scone with the biggest chunks of chocolate in town, an amazing treat he got once a year) on the morning of his 25th year, he felt it in the very ground he walked on…

He was ready, though he did harbor one regret. One thing he knew he missed out on.

He’d never fallen in love.

Over his last year, Eddie would sit with Mother; amongst the trees, lain back in the field of grass on the hill behind their house, and tell her about them. 

The ‘they’ that he’d likely never meet, the they that would love him for nothing but his love in return. 

Nothing was ever specific, only the vaguest feelings he’d get about them, about the way they’d love, the humor they’d possess, the love for Eddie’s stories they’d have.

And every time he’d speak of them, Eddie’d leave with something that he didn’t realize he had picked up until he was nearly back home. 

A chain of daisies Wayne had plucked from atop his head when he sat down for dinner, a scrap of dark blue fabric he’d found walking through town, a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, the tiny sun bleached skull of a bat.

And he’d write. Over and over, never quite getting it right, but there was something he knew he needed to get out of his very being before he left for good. Something that felt like a promise.

–

The morning came, and Eddie awoke to a silent house. 

Wayne out on the fields already, most likely out helping the folks on either side of them with whatever they needed doing, with only the hens’ clucks and pigs’ snorts keeping him company with the calls from the birds in the trees. 

Eddie got up, slow as slow could be, got himself into his clothes, shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to their small blue table, tore out a blank page of his mother’s notebook and wrote.

Pouring all of what remained within him, Eddie thought of the Earth, of his mom, of Uncle Wayne, and them. His unknown love.

-x-X-x-

Steve Harrington’s mother was not a witch.

But for the last few years, he’s had a suspicion that his Grandmother is.

Everyone says that their food tastes so good because “It’s made with love!”,  but with Mama Harrington, it was real. The love and intent she imbued into her meals was there. And she could cure any ailment.

She would always go on and on about the importance of food, each recipe’s ingredients’ healing powers, and of the recipes and their stories that had been passed down through the years from her mother, and her mother’s mother, all the way to now, where they ended up in a cookbook that’d gone untouched since it was given to Steve’s mother in the late 60’s.

“A gift! Unused for so many years, Steven!”

“I know, Mama,” he nods again, dropping some green something into the pot of sauce bubbling on the stove. “Almost 25 years.”

“Aye! You have catching up to do.” she says, shaking a thick wooden spoon at him.

“Me?” he scoffs, “I don’t know the first thing about cooking, Mama!” Baking? He’d hold his own. Cooking? If his grandmother wasn’t there to help him of on the phone to guide him through a recipe? Kitchen would go up in flames.

“Bah! Watch closely, dear.” she says, shuffling to the pot that stands nearly as tall as her where it’s perched on the stovetop. “It is always your intent behind what you are cooking. You can make anything be anything as long as the intent is there.”

“Even eggs?”

She nods, her nearly fully white bun flopping back and forth on top of her head. “Even just eggs.”

“So if I want a carbonara to help get my friend a passing grade?” he asks, incredulous, but immediately thinking of Robin, who’s coming up on her finals in a couple months (for her doctorate! A PhD! Can you believe that!).

“The intent! Put it into the eggs, into the pasta, I don’t care! But make it for That!”

She throws a concerningly large handful of pepper into the pot on the stove, and gives it a stir.

“Now, this is my Mama’s recipe, and it will help your Pa’s back.”

“How so?”

“Because I told it to,” she growls, glaring at the pot and raising her spoon as if she was going to smack some sense into it.

“Alright, Mama,” Steve chuckles, “What do you need me to do?”

He spends the next hour helping his grandma roll out some of her premade dough for some fettuccine looking noodles, grabbing a wrapped up blob “from the top shelf, Steven. That’s the stuff I made for you.”. 

He rolls, folds, and cuts it as he’s told, then goes to pick Robin up from campus while she finishes everything.

“It won’t take long now, dear, and you shouldn’t either.” Mama scolds, waving her spoon around once again.

“Got it, Mama, be back soon.” He slips on his shoes, looks in on his grandpa in the living room as he passes, grinning at the loud snores he hears from the direction of Pa’s recliner, and slips out the front door to his car. 

In no time, he’s picked up Robin, stopped for a movie from Blockbuster, and is home to the smell of fresh bread.

“We’re home Mama!”

“I’m just setting the table, grab your Pa!”

“Come on Pa, Mama’s got some pasta for you.” Steve says, coaxing his grandfather out of the chair and into his slippers. 

“Ah, perfect, my back’s been real achy lately.”

“That’s ‘cause you sleep in the recliner, Mr. Harrington.”

“How many times do we gotta tell you, Robin? Just call us Ma and Pa.”

Robin plops down in her designated spot across from Ma, “Hey, you should get used to it now; Once I finally get up the nerve to Chrissy out, she’ll come over here all “Mr. Harrington” this and “Mrs. Harrington” that.

“And how’s that coming, Bobs?” Steve asks her, sitting down beside his grandma and immediately passing the plate of bread across the table to Robin’s waiting hands. 

She starts going off at a million miles a minute about her longest standing crush, while Steve shares a look with his grandma, both smirking conspiratorially as Robin takes a bite of the bread.

That’d been Steve’s suggestion, a bread imbued with luck.

It wasn’t a “Love Spell”, Mama said there was none in existence that were worth the pain. But the minimal luck that she had sown before into countless baked goods (especially near February), have had a surprisingly great track record.

With everyone but Steve.

She couldn’t quite figure out what it was that kept him from getting the benefits too, every time she had tried, they had tried, it was an astounding failure. 

First with Tommy Hagan, the carrot cake cookies Steve had presented him with as a special birthday treat back in middle school ended with two missing front teeth and a broken arm.

Then again without even thinking about it, he’d added some luck and hope to homemade chicken pot pies he’d whipped up when he and Nancy were on the rocks. 

It had somewhat worked with Billy Hargrove, but that one hadn’t even been intentional, and he shudders to think about it to this day.

“I don’t know my dearest, maybe it is because you are already tied to someone else?” She had said after her tried and true pot pie recipe failed.

“But it didn’t even work with the one I was already with!” he yelled, sighing deep and pinching the tears away from the bridge of his nose. “She jumped right into Byers’ arms.”

Mama had just given him a pitying look, which was worse, honestly.

Now, he stays far away from any of Mama’s lucky foods, especially with the weird twisting feeling he had gotten the few times he’d tried over the years after leaving Hawkins.

He and Robin came up to Indy for Robin to go to U of I, a year after she graduated, and when Steve was fired from the job that had been paying the majority of their apartment's rent when he was spotted kissing his then boyfriend by his manager….they came to live with Steve’s grandparents, taking to them both with open arms and hearts.

He comes back to the present when his third bite of pasta clears away the last of his headache.

Steve shoots his grandma a knowing look, which she ignores with a sip of wine. 

–

They’re nearly finished with dinner when it happens.

Steve’s listening intently to a story Pa is telling them, something he’s sure he’s hears a dozen times before, when he absentmidedly picks up, then takes a bite of the bread Ma made for Robin.

It’s more than he’s ever felt before.

In the past, whenever Steve’s tried to gain some luck in love, he’s been inundated with flashes, feelings, words, a warmth in his bones that he’s wanted to hold onto forever. 

The feelings grew stronger the older he got, and now, Steve finds himself sitting on a rolling grassy hill. 

It’s not a flash of a vision like before, he’s sitting in the tall soft grass, and his hands are already making a chain of daisies. Nearly done, in fact. 

He finishes it off, turns it around in his hands, then when he goes to put it on…

He’s back at the table with his family, the slice of bread in his hand, and Pa still telling his story.

Steve jumps up, startling the other three, and beelines it to the kitchen, flinging open drawers, searching for just a damn scrap of paper. 

Mama follows him, “Steve, the bread?”

“I was on a hill, chaining daisies, and now I have to get these words out.” He probably doesn't make a lick of sense, but he doesn’t want to lose them.

Suddenly, a pad of paper and pen are passed into his line of sight. He snatches them up, and starts scribbling down as much as he can.

He and Mama stare down at the words on the page. 

“Mama, what is this?”

She is silent for a handful of breaths.

“This is why the luck never worked.”

now with a part 2!

also: i don’t know the first thing about being a witch or anything of the sort, nor do i know anything but the basics about cooking; hope im not way way off on anything!!! this is all in fun 😅

[rykno-j]

Overheating (1/?) (H/azbin H/otel)

never thought i'd actually write a sickfic for a tv man but here i am i guess.

"(1/?)" is there because i might make a continuation

characters present: v/al, v/ox, v/evlette (mentioned)

small disclaimer: if i wrote v/al in a way that made him soft/likeable just know im not excusing any of his actions okay? okay.

also, theres H/azbin-H/otel-Universe level of cussing in here, just as a warning.

word count: 1k

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

"I can't FUCKING post anything with this shitty signal, so you're going to go down there and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!"

"Woah, woah Velvette, since when was babysitting added on my list?"

"He deals with your shit all the time, so just grow a pair and return the favour."

"Alright, alright, but you owe me one."

-

-

-

"Vox, is everything-" Valentino stepped into the control room, narrowly avoiding a spark that flew through one of the wires as the lights flickered above.

"Bad time Val, I'm not in the mood for your shit right now." A tired voice came from the center of all the buzzing screens.

"Well I hate to be the one who spoils all the fun dear, you know that." Valentino crosses the bridge to reach other platform. "But I really need you to stop fucking with all the lights in my studio, I'm only filming a sex-in-the-dark kink next week and now's a tad bit early."

"I don't c-care about your sex studio" Vox replied without turning around.

Valentino smirked when he heard the static in the other's voice. It was always entertaining to annoy vox whenever he was in this state. The reactions he got were simply.. electric.

"Soo, what are you working on this time?"

"Nobody's buying our fucking product, Val." Vox turns around, a hand propping his head up, looking clearly pissed off. "I don't know.. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Valentino raises an eyebrow. It was rare to see Vox admit defeat such readily. "Want me to help?"

"Uh, fuck no? Did you really think I'd have forgotten the kind of stunt you pulled the last time I let you assist me? The moment that shit got aired it look less than a day for hospitals to be filled with sinners who got that remote stuck up their ass."

"Hmm, how was that my fault in particular?"

"You promoted it as a f-FUCKING dildo!" A spark flew from one of the wires tied to vox as his voice glitched out once again.

"But it did sell, didn't it?"

Vox groans, swiveling his chair back around to face the panel. "If there's nothing else, I have a meeting in five." He gets up, mutely pulling on his bowtie before turning around with a sigh. "Why are you here again?"

"You're upset about something," Valentino explains in a whiny tone. "It's fucking with everyone in the building and has apparently become my job to calm you down." While talking, he circles around Vox, putting a finger under his chin while his other hands wrap around his waist. "Want me to help.. ease the tension?"

While this normally would have worked, Valentino never expected Vox to push him away, a hand rubbing the smudges off his screen.

"Not today. I have an image to uphold. Go fuck with some of your whores or something."

Valentino frowns, but says nothing else.

"Now," Vox says, taking in a breath, "if you'll excuse me." He steps back with a mock half-bow, body turning into electricity as he zaps himself into the nearby circuit.

Valentino stares blankly at the buzzing televisions, sighing as he pulls out a cigarette. As he turns to light it, the wires in front of him flash and sizzle as a bright blue bolt of electricity strikes directly in front of him.

As the smoke clears, Valentino blinks at a very disorientated Vox who struggles to sit up from his position; face-flat against the floor.

"Are you-"

"What the fuck? That has never happened before."

"Clearly." Valentino rolls his eyes, but proceeds to offer his shoulder, which Vox unconsciously leans into. "A rat got to the wires?"

"No, I ran out of energ-" Vox started, then stopped. "I forgot one of my documents and had to come back."

Valentino watched, unamused as Vox nearly fell over if it wasn't for the table holding him up. He side-eyes the other, ears picking up the obvious sounds of Vox's internal fans overworking to keep his head at a normal temperature.

He places a hand on the back of his head, not missing the way Vox flinches. Despite himself, Valentino wanted to do something to help. But 'help' wasn't in his list of strong suits, so he figured he'd do it in a way that was.

"Voxxy~ want to have sex?"

A spark of electricity jumps from Vox's antenna to the other.

He took that as an unspoken yes. "Will you cancel the meeting for that?" Valentino wraps his lower arm around Vox. "I had to dismiss all my actors thanks to the power-outage you caused." He notices how Vox looks away at the mention of the power failure. "So take responsibility."

Vox slouches over. "I'm not-"

"Oh you don't have to do anything," Valentino reaches out to pinch Vox's cheek. "I'll top today. Or do you want to have control?"

"No, it's fine. I'll cancel my meeting." The relief in his voice was unintentionally obvious.

"Can you make it to the bedroom? Or do you want to rawdog it here?"

Vox grumbles, but makes no effort to push Valentino away when the moth opens one of wings to wrap around him.

They walk side by side, Valentino's wing tightening around Vox when they crossed the bridge together, preventing the possibility of his legs going numb and falling into the void.

It was admittedly nice whenever Valentino would act like he genuinely cared. Vox was sure he did, despite how they seemed to be in more of a duo-benefiting sexual relationship most of the time.

On his part, Vox tells himself, he too was taking advantage of Val's offer for sex to skip his meeting.

..That was all there was to it.

-end-

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

i might make a part 2 where i struggle through the process of making vox snz despite his lack of nose.

but besides that, tysm for reading!

Part 1.5 ->

[bewitchedfeathers]

Dust and Cold - Sick V/ox and Allergic Al/astor (Rad/iostatic)

Authors notes: (Credit to my RP partner for some of the Alastor’s sneeze spellings! Thanks darling!)

I imagine the Z's in their sneezes are static sounds. I hope you enjoy!

—-

“Well at least I wasn’t taken down by the common…cuh…heh'iiKSCHH! eh'TSCHhu! heh'iiiiZZSCHHUEE,” he lowered the handkerchief from his face enough that he could dab carefully underneath his pink tinged nose, “the common cold.” He leaned back in his high backed chair and tried to look unaffected.

“Yeah dust allergies are much more dignified,” Vox retorted from the couch opposite Alastor, voice gravelly and rough from his illness.

“I am not allergic to anything. It is merely abominably dusty in h-here with Niffty on vacation,” He finished with a pointed look to Charlie who had just appeared in the doorway.

“She works so hard for the hotel! She deserved that vacation and it was so good of you to give it to her,” she said with a bright encouraging smile that did nothing to raise the dour energy in the room. “And its only for another two days.”

“Hear that Al, you’ll only have to…hahhh…have to….Hahhh’AZZzshuhh…hh’EZzSHUHHh…SNF have to deal with your terrible dust allergies for two more days,” Vox snarked back between sneezing into his fist. He grabbed a few tissues from the box tucked next to him where he was sprawled and cleaned himself up.

“I don’t have allergies,” Alastor sniffed primly, which immediately set him sneezing again. “Hih-IkkTshiuew…hh’hih’ITZZzzShiew. Snf. Surely other members of the hotel are similarly affected. In fact your cold is probably being worsened just by being here and it’d be better for you to leave.”

Charlie froze and looked awkwardly away from Alastor at the mention of others being effected by the dust. A sure sign that Alastor was alone in his sensitivity to dust, whether he admitted it existed or not. 

Vox rolled his eyes, unphased by Alastor’s snarliness. He turned towards his shoulder, away from Charlie, to muffle a coughing fit. It dragged on for a minute sounding rough and forceful, and leaving Vox panting in the aftermath.

“Oh Vox, did you need anything?” Charlie asked, face full of sympathetic concern.

“We’re fine,” Alastor said pointedly (Vox might say possessively). Charlie ignored him and waited for Vox to respond but he waved off her concern with a hand. 

“I’m alright. If I need anything Alastor can summon it for me,” He said with a smug grin to Alastor like he knew the radio demon wouldn’t refute it.

“Only because you are too pitiful to take care of yourself, dear,” Alastor said gazing down his nose at Vox.

Vox’s antennas sparked as he glared at Alastor. “You’re such an asshole.You can never -” he paused to cough before continuing, voice ragged, “-admit to having feelings or something as benign as allergies, even in the happy-Hah’TZZSHHuh.. fucking hotel,” Vox responded snippily.

Alastor’s antlers grew slightly larger as the sound of static filled the room. “It’s the Hazbin Hotel and I don’t have any such weaknesses as…ah-hah…Hih’IKZzZkshiew…” Abruptly the room fell quiet and the heavy feeling of violence disappated as Alastor’s head jolted down into his kerchief. “Hih’IKZZshiew…IKT-zZzzshew….Hih’ih’ihhhh’ZSHIEWW…”

“Gesundheit, Al,” Vox offered placidly, letting the argument go for the moment. 

Alastor blew his nose and then replaced his kerchief with a fresh one with a flick of his fingers tinged green with magic. “Pardon me,” he murmured demurely while he shot Vox a look daring him to say anything.

Vox was distracted by another fit of coughing that he did his best to muffle into his elbow. “Fuck, this is getting ridiculous. Hhh..n-not ahh-again…” he groaned as he slowly built up to another sneeze.

As Vox's eyes fell shut, Alastor's gaze turned slightly softer, tinged with concern. But when Charlie caught it and opened her mouth to comment Alastor shot her a blood curdling look backed by the shriek of microphone feedback. Charlie settled for smiling encouragingly at him instead. 

“Hhhh…hh’huhhh…fuh-fucking heh….hell…” Vox shed a few sneezy tears as the tickle in his sinuses continued to tease him. Alastor noticed Charlie watching Vox succumb to his cold symptoms and felt a need for no one else to see Vox like this. 

“Goodnight, Charlie,” Alastor said pointedly with a glance at the open door, followed by a trio of itchy sounding stifled sneezes. “Hih’TZzsht-IZZshxt-IZZZhew. Pardon me.”

“Gesundheit. Ah, right,” she nodded taking the hint with good humor, “Good night, Alastor. Goodnight, Vox. I hope you're both feeling better in the morning.” She left with a final wave just as Vox launched into a fit of sneezes. Alastor locked the door behind her with a wave of his hand, before turning his attention back to his sick companion.

“Good…huh…goodnight…Huhhh’hhh…HUHhhh’IZZZJSHHHOO…hh’Huh’UhZZZSHHHuhh…hhhhh…hhih…Heh’EIIZZZSHHHeww….” Vox groaned and began mopping himself up, going through quite a few tissues in the process. Alastor grimaced at the pile when Vox was finished and disappeared them with a wave of shadow.

“Gesundheit, dear. Quite the cuhhh-snf cold you managed to catch there,” Alastor commented as he dabbed at his nose. “Would you care for some tea?” 

“Thadks, Al. Tea sou’ds good,” Vox said tiredly, shivering a bit even with a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

Alastor summoned another blanket, in his favored red tones, over Vox's legs. And then snapped hot tea into existence for each of them. 

Vox huddled over the tea as if trying to soak up its warmth. He took a sip and gave a pleased hum as he found it was made just how he liked it. Then he shot Alastor a grateful little grin. 

“It's perfect, Al. Thadk you.”

“Its nothing, dear. But you're welcome,” Alastor responded, voice fond and expression gone soft around the edges.

A few minutes passed before Alastor’s breath caught and Alastor’s shadow grabbed the cup from him just in time as he started sneezing. The fit bent him forward with each sneeze, his hair falling into his face and ears pressed back.

“Hhh’hih-hihh-hehIKSH’ieww… Eh’TSHHiew..Hnn— KSH! Kshue! Hehh’HEHH?! EIISHHUE!” Alastor gave a staticky groan and dabbed at his red rimmed eyes. “Pardon mbe, dear,” he murmured before blowing his nose to clear out the sound of congestion.

“Holy shit, Alastor, Gesundheit,” Vox said, eyes still a little wide at the ferocity of Alastor’s fit.

“Thank you, dear,” Alastor said straightening his hair and jacket and reclaiming his tea. After which he pretended that nothing had happened, and Vox was tired enough not to tease him about it.

Over the course of Alastor drinking his tea Vox’s gaze grew rheumy and his face flushed in reflection to his rising temperature. Alastor began darting glances at him, Vox for once oblivious to the attention.

“Feeling alright, my dear?” He asked when Vox had stopped drinking from his tea cup for several minutes.

“Hm?” He looked over at Alastor blearily.

Alastor’s smile dipped at the corners, Vox never missed what he said. “How are you feeling, Vox?” 

“Tired…Hhhh’HDZsshhuh-Heh’SHuhh..” He sneezed openly down towards his lap and electric sparks danced across his visible skin. Alastor’s eyes went wide with a mix of alarm and concern. “Gesundheit, darling,” he murmured as he set his own empty tea cup aside.

He stood up and carefully took Vox’s tea and set it aside as well. “Then you should rest, my dear. You’re running a fever.” He adjusted pillows and eased the loose and compliant Vox back until he was fully laying down and tucked in. Once he had Vox’s long limbs tucked underneath the blankets he gave the media demon’s shoulder a pat. 

“Get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.” He stood to return to his chair when Vox let out a staticky whine and rasped, “Don’t leave…”

Alastor sighed softly and sat back down. “I’ll be here when you wake, my dear,” he reassured as Vox’s stuffy breathing grew heavier with sleep.

(And then Alastor stifled his sneezes into silence so as to not wake Vox for however many hours. (And probably catches Vox’s cold))

The End

–

Fun Headcanons that came from writing this:

+ Alastor only uses Vox's name when he's irritated or worried

+ Alastor is protective of Vox when he's vulnerable and doesn't like anyone seeing Vox in moments of helplessness (also doesn't want anyone seeing him soft on Vox)

+ If Alastor summons something for Vox its often with designs and colors that represent Alastor, he likes seeing Vox marked as his in some small way

------

[Fic Masterlist]

Let me know if you enjoyed and feel free to give me prompts for Haz/bin or Hell/uva! (Anon is on!)

(Also I think for every comment I've received I've written about 300 words - so feel free to get me writing!)

[goodlucksnez]

So after listening to Zen's Wav, I had a idea to continue. So I gathered some friends and we continued the story with a little nod to @instarsandcrime as well!

So enjoy the continuation!

Al//astor: @onetrickponi

Lu//cifer: @zensations35

V//ox: @goodlucksnez

See below for script!

Alastor: Ah! The man of the hour! Just the person I was hoping to encounter…Now then. Time for a little r̴̈e̷͋g̵͛i̷͊c̷̉ǐ̵d̷̃ë̴́

Lucifer: Oh no…*sneeze* Not you again. What is it this time?

Alastor:  As it turns out, sire, not only do you bestow hellish grace upon your subjects, but pestilence as well! ’Allergies.’ Hah! I should have known. 

Lucifer: Well if someone hadn’t insisted I come on their show with only two days notice!

Alastor: Aha-hA!  If someone would answer their phone more than once a month, your nibs–

*Lucifer sneezes*

Alastor: Well. Glad to see your smoky sternutations aren’t exclusive to my studio, at least. Goodness, I do hope this wallpaper is flame-resistant.*ṣ̶͐n̸̺͐ḙ̸̽e̸̲͂z̸̩͋i̷̠͐n̴̨̊g̸̩̿* Pardon.

Lucifer: Hey! Don’t bust out my lights! I’m working on an important project!

Alastor: And now no one has to see it! Pity. :)

*Voxtech Show Theme Plays*

Vox: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most electrifying news show in the multiverse! I’m your host, Vox,  and I’m here to deliver the latest headlines with a dash of charisma, a sprinkle of wit, and a whole lot of tea *clinking cup* *cup falls* 

Vox: *ignoring fallen cup* Tonight on our program we will go over the most recent broadcast from the King of Hell and the less important interviewer *cackle*

Vox: Ahh how good it feels in my studio! I must say our brand is perfection, it just won't do for anything Less. Than. That. *snigger*  

Vox: Unlike a certain old tyrant my studio is made for the highest of royalty. So if any princes or kings want a real experience, come down to Vees tower and I would love to give you a personalized tour from the Man in Charge. 

Alastor: *sneezing* Pompous, vicious little prick…

Lucifer: Ugh.. *sniff* I hate that guy…”Man in Charge”? And they call me prideful??

Vox: I mean really you just walk in, and it’s chaos. Papers everywhere, coffee stains on the desk, *laugh* it isn't even in a proper studio but an old water tower! Talk about tacky. Unprofessional, if you ask me. But here? Every cable is tucked away, every surface polished--

[Vox continues his spiel while Alastor sneezes]

Alastor: *sneezing* 

Vox:-- to a mirror sheen. We believe in excellence, not just in our content but in our environment, that that is what VoxTex is here to provide you. So, when you tune in to our show, rest assured, you’re getting the crème de la crème. Quality, class, and cleanliness–

Alastor: That isn’t even properly alliterative…

Lucifer: Are you kidding me? His place is a walking fire hazard! Or, not walking. Standing? But I know fire hazards! Man, I wish I could just…*sneezes*

Alastor: HaHAh!…Well, then I’m sure you will appreciate this next bit, Sire.

Vox: *sniffling* *sneezing* I must apologize, my dear viewers *sneezing*  but it seems that even the most prepared among us can be caught off guard. It appears I’m having a bit of a g̶͎͑-̵̓ͅg̵̪̑-̷̖͠G̴̥͒L̶̟̈I̷͈͑T̵̀͜C̸̣͝H̸̖͒—nothing serious, but we believe in safety first here at Vox industries.

*Vox continues sneezing throughout his spiel*

Vox: We’re all about transparency and this is as real as it gets. Fucking bitch! I’m going to step off for a moment to take care of this, and in the meantime, we’ll be ending today’s broadcast a tad earlier than scheduled. FuckI’mgonnafuckingkillhim--Our team is top-notch, and they’ll ensure everything is handled with the utmost professionalism. Thank you for your understanding. We’ll be back on air tomorrow, bright and shiny as ever, ready to bring you the stellar content you love. 

Vox: Cut it! That fucking bitch, I know this is his doing I’m gonna kill him!!

Alastor: *sneezing* *laughing* 

Lucifer: Hoh yeah! Highfive!

Alastor: I beg your pardon?

Lucifer: You…you just take your hand and…uhh…*high five sound*

Alastor: Mmm I suppose. But don’t make a habit out of this, sire.

Lucifer: Eheh…okay…