#the only thing we know for sure is that its NOT in gluttony | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 7 days ago

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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.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer #lillith #angel dust #husk #charlie #vaggie #phoenixwrites

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thatsatricky1 · 3 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐩? | l.hc

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Haechan the sin of Gluttony x (f) Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, mentions of mental health, taunting, stalking, obsession

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Thriller, angst, no happy ending, open ending

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,2k

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝: The Orange Envelope

The Orange card looked enticing, a single flower tapped to the front of it as if a promise of what could lay inside considering it was thick, more flowers most likely waiting to be revealed. Even the waxed seal promised more and more, slightly overflowing from where it had been pressed too much wax having been used. And who were you to deny picking something with just that more involved inside.

Y/n didn’t have to think much on her choice, she’d pick the orange one first. Sure the white letter beforehand had stated to only pick one, but what was stopping her from reading all of them? If it was just some prank she’d be able to piece together everything if she read all of them, but for now she’d just pick the orange one first.

Reaching past the rest of the letters to grab onto the orange one at the top right of her table, she pulled it towards herself noticing the weight of it. Pulling the dried flower off the letter and placing it on her table for later.

Moving to grab onto the wax seal and flipping it up ignoring the tear she heard as she did so, her free hand cupping underneath the letter as many dried flowers toppled out of the overflowing envelope. A few sunflower seeds mixed in with it. Once it lessened she moved her filled palm towards the desk, dumping it without looking.

Tugging the letter carefully out of the envelope to avoid more things falling out. Though as she unfolded the letter a few sunflower seeds ended up falling out having been squished between the paper, scattering below her feet against the ground. A clean up job she wasn’t too thrilled about doing later on.

What’s up Buttercup,

Not surprised you picked my letter, it was the best one after all. Don’t even deny it, you picked it after all. Then again knowing me and you well enough after reading this you’ll want to open up the others too, but that’s a big no no. You see when we said pick one, we meant it. You made your choice, the best one of course mind you, so just sit there all snug and let fate take its course. Fuck I’ve been waiting for this, I don’t like waiting at all. I usually just take what I want, but in this case you decided it anyway, so wait right there, I’m coming.

Your Sunshine

Closing the letter, she didn’t bother putting it back into the envelope, halfway through the letter she’d looked at her desk, the letters from before were no longer there. She wasn’t stupid, this wasn’t just some sort of prank. And she knew exactly who’s letter it was. The messy handwriting, the wording and the nickname he’d given himself. It was obvious and even if it was anonymous she knew he’d left those obvious clues for her to know it was him. He’d done it on purpose as if out of rushed excitement or to get a reaction out of her, most likely both.

Getting up from her seat she ignored the way the sunflower seeds dug into the soles of her sock covered feet, the ones that laid on her floor from opening the letter just moments ago. Instead she went straight for her bedroom door rushing her way to her front door, back door and open windows. Any sort of access point she had in her home she made sure to lock and secure shut.

Taking a few relaxing breaths she closed her eyes trying to calm herself down, this wasn’t a natural occurrence, but she’d be damned to let this all take place. Not in her home, not in her life. Once she’d busted her ass off to have, she made her own decisions in life, not others.

Though her eyes open slowly when her ears pick up on movement upstairs, before she could look upwards she felt the familiar feeling of her cat drag itself against her leg. Looking down instead of up she noted her cat's hair standing up on edge, as if put off by something, but she couldn’t blame her cat, because goosebumps raised against her own skin.

If her cat was downstairs, that meant something else was making noise upstairs.

Of course she should have noticed, he wasn’t someone who would wait idly for her reaction, or her pick. He always rushed into things, Haechan always took the things he wanted.

In her rush she hadn’t taken a second to truly look around when she’d been closing and locking all possible entry points. So when she turned to stare at the front door, the sneakers at her door proved to mock her. Laying there, one sitting upright and the other tilted on its side. Y/n had overlooked it when locking the front door.

Moving to look at the shoe rack she noticed one pair of slippers for indoors was also gone, most likely being worn at this very moment upstairs in her own home. It seemed Haechan had invited himself in, then again he did have a copy of her house key. An emergency key she’d trusted him with, for days she needed to feed her cat but couldn’t and he happened to live close enough by to be able to do it for her.

Maybe she should have taken it as a sign of how her cat had never warmed up to him, her hair always standing up when she spotted the guy. Even when Haechan would be all smiles she’d hiss or swipe at him if he got too close for comfort. Her cat wasn’t really a people person besides herself but she never acted that defensive with others.

Y/n had always dismissed it as her kitten disliking Haechan’s personality and way too energetic vibe. Her cat was one who preferred a calm vibe in her home, loving when Y/n would sit in the living room watching a series where she could plop herself down between her owners legs and take a well deserved nap.

“Stay.” Y/n whisper crouching down to settle her cat's spiked fur, not sure if she was doing it more so to comfort her pet or for her own self. Whatever the meaning behind her actions she was quick to get back up attention going back up to the ceiling.

Her eyes following the creaking of the floorboards upstairs, it was slow and deliberate. She knew he was trying to grab her attention, trying to get her upstairs. The smart thing was to grab her cat and flee, but she wasn’t going to let who she thought previously was a good friend walz into her home and claim it as his own.

The idea itself was stupid, considering what had just happened, letters disappearing into thin air was not in any sense normal, and other things were sure to follow. But she could just stand there and watch him toy with her. No matter what he was ‘capable’ of. Y/n had always made sure to stay out of trouble, but if trouble decided to knock at her own door or in this case worm its way in, she’d deal with it herself.

His letter had stated clearly what he wanted, he wanted her. If she was honest with herself she’d never taken Haechan’s flirty remarks and actions seriously, having brushed off the attempts each and every time it happened. She’d assumed he knew she wasn’t interested in a relationship considering the big fact of her stating so when they’d first become friends through university.

Y/n had sworn off dating until she’d complete her degree, having to focus properly on it. That didn’t mean she didn’t seek pleasure out of one night stands and such. She was still a woman with needs that she’d meet every now and then. But a romantic and very involved relationship was not something she wanted any time soon. Flings and casual relationships were enough to get her by for now.

She thought back to anything she may have done to give him the impression she wanted to start things with him. Sure, he was attractive and someone she could see being together with when she wasn’t focused on her studies, not anymore though with the uneasy situation he’d pushed her into recently.

They’d kissed a few times, but not anything serious. Usually happening with drunk actions after a night out or during it. A lot of university students with a little influence of alcohol and being close enough friendship wise had kissed. Or at least that was the dynamic she’d taken to with her circle of friends. It was a drunk and platonic action.

So she knew she hadn’t given haechan hints or advances to think she wanted to start anything with him. Haechan was someone who took what he wanted most of the time, not knowing when he crossed boundaries. Usually it was much more casual things, like snagging the last bite of someone’s food, drinking other people's drinks before they can, deciding group projects without asking others what they thought, and many other things along those lines.

He was used to taking things, but he was in for a rude awkwakening and reality check because Y/n no matter what sort of fucked up person he rally was would not give in. She made her own choices, not ones she’s pushed towards or dragged into.

Y/n moved to place her cat inside the bathroom, closing the door not wanting her cat to somehow get caught in the crossfire. She didn’t doubt her kitten would have a lot to say to haechan since right from the start she hadn’t been a fan of him in the slightest, she wished she’d taken that into account when befriending haechan.

Glancing above at the ceiling she noticed the creaking had stopped a while ago, the last noise had been where her bedroom laid. Rolling her shoulders back taking a deep breath in, shoulders detensing as she exhaled slowly. Not giving it another thought as she moved towards her staircase.

Y/n knew he wanted her to come to him, that was the goal for him. That instead of having to drag you to him, you’d walk right into his arms. Selfishly expecting so. Y/n would give him the pleasure of her going to him, but would not give in and instead face him head on. Make sure he knew that not everything in life could be his. Not with the approach he used.

Actions have consequences and she was ready to prove that to him, however what she didn’t realise was her own actions were inherently greedy in itself, every action has consequences including her very own ones.

She took her time climbing up the stairs, not being quiet like she had been on the way downstairs earlier. Y/n wanted him to notice she was coming for him. In the hallway, she held back a noise at seeing just how taunting he was being, how obvious he was.

He’d left her bedroom door wide open, the lights inside her room flooding out into the hallway. And now that she was closer she could hear something. A sort of crunching noise every few seconds sounding out. Only getting louder as she moved towards her bedroom.

Most would hesitate at this point, stall before the doorway however Y/n didn’t stop, she rounded the doorway stepping inside. Eyes making contact with him straight away. It was Haechan just like she’d expected it to be.

There he was, leaning half against her study desk, fingers wrapped around the edges. He was looking downwards while pressing his shoes against the floorboards causing a crunch to follow every time he did it. The sunflower seeds that had been scattered on the floor below her desk were the cause of the sound as they were grinded against the floor with his boots.

“Get out of my house.” No greeting given to what was about to be an ex friend.

Haechan let out a chuckle barely lifting his head, but his eyes flicked upwards half hidden from his fringe to get a look in front of him, taking in her appearance with clear delight glinting across them.

“What, not happy to see me Buttercup?”

“Whatever idea you’ve somehow got stuck in your head, it’s not happening Haechan.” She straight up refused, causing that grin of his to slip off his face.

In her whole time of knowing him, he always had some sort of smile or grin on his face, so to see the sudden serious look cross over his facial feature made her stomach churn uncomfortable.

“Well that’s not very kind of you considering the fact you picked me.” He replied, no amusement in his voice however.

Moving to stand up from where he’d been leaning against the desk talking a step in her direction, more sunflower seeds crunching under his boots. If this was any other day she’d be scolding him for wearing shoes inside her house. But with the way he was looking at her, instead she took a step backwards, now back to being in between her doorway of the bedroom.

“You know I meant what I said in my letter, right?” He questioned out, taking another step closer, inching towards her.

“That you take things without asking?” She retorted trying to at least not let him have the last word, knowing fully well he was not finished talking.

“Well I can’t argue with that since I do take anything I want. Just like right now, with you.” He shrugged as if what he was implying was normal, a simple and mundane action.

“How’d you do it? The letters.” Y/n couldn’t help but ask, wanting to know how he could possibly do something like that. It wasn’t natural, nor physically possible.

He grinned, looking proud of himself before flicking his wrist, all the envelopes between his fingers, appearing out of thin air. Including his own orange one. He moved to fan his face with them.

“You mean like this, don’t look so put off, this is only just a little party trick compared to what I can do.” He teased, taunting her. But she could also detect the hint of a threat somewhere in between the lines as if to tell her he could do much worse especially if she didn’t start acting how he wanted.

“Haechan, whatever you want. It’s not happening.” She once again refused, causing him to hum, tongue poking the inside of his cheek at her clear defiance even after seeing something that shouldn’t be physically possible for a person to do.

“You know, even now with you denying what will happen, you look hot making that face.” Haechan played around, she knew now it wasn’t some harmless playful flirting though, he meant it.

As he took another step closer her hand went to the door handle, his eyes flickering at her actions, grin widening. He wasn’t trying to be sneaky about closing in on her, and she wasn’t hiding her own actions either. It was going to be a fun night.

“You could make this easy on both of us and just come here, or you can try running.” He offered out the two options secretly hoping for a chance, it was always fun that way. His plans for when he caught her was different to his normal brutal and violent ways with others though.

“Fuck you.” Her words did not catch him by surprise as she swung the bedroom door shut in his face, since he’d been walking towards the door at that stage not taking slow steps any longer.

Turning on the spot she moved to get to her staircase, about to go back down the stairs. Her bedroom door flew open, smashing against the wall, leaving a dent that would not allow her to get the deposit back if she decided to move out. Haechan casually walked out with his hands in his pockets, seeing the flash of her hair as she rushed down the stairs.

“Careful you might trip.” He called out after her, following close behind but letting her gain a bit of distance.

Y/n ignoring his words, knowing he wanted her to respond back. Giving him a reaction would just be helping him win whatever sick and twisted game he was trying to play.

Getting to the bottom of the steps she glanced in the direction of her bathroom, a pange of guilt going through her knowing her cat was stuck in there. Continuing her way towards the front door, hoping that she’d have enough time to get to that cop, enough time Haechan wouldn’t remember the cat that didn’t like him, enough time he wouldn’t get any sick idea.

She skidded to a stop beside in front of the entrance way, barely managing slamming against the door. Hand moving to try the door handle, cursing when she remembered it was locked. Fingers wrapping around the lock to undo it, only for it to stubbornly refuse to budge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Curses slipped from her lips excessively as she repeatedly tried the lock over and over again but it refused to move.

“Yeah, don’t think that’s going to work babe.” Haechan observed her weak attempt at getting out.

Y/n turning to cast a nasty glare his way, he was manipulating the lock no doubt. Keeping it shut so she couldn’t escape.

“As much as I’d want to chase you around, it’s Halloween. Too many eyes, and also that useless cop in his car.” He pointed out, finally taking his hands out of his pockets.

She took him by surprise when she started walking towards him, but he welcomed it with a smirk thinking he finally got her to just give in. To him it was obvious that what they had between them wasn’t just some innocent friendship or a possible fling.

“So what are you?” She asked out finally face to face with him, barely any space between them.

“You know me by Lee Haechan. Or I guess also Lee Donghyuck. I had a hard time deciding between the two names.” He started moving to lean his face closer as he continued “But I’m more widely known by a few other names. Mammon, a prince of hell, the sin of greed.” Haechan replied in answer, deciding to give her at least that.

Though he was done talking, patience having ran out as he moved his face closer in an attempt to finally know what her lips felt like against his. A stinging pain stopped him, eyes blurring for a few seconds as he tried to process what had just happened. Barely feeling her brush past him.

Blinking away the blurring against his eyes, and slight fuzzy noise ringing in his ears. He felt a warmth run down his temple, all the way down and passed his jaw. Raising a finger to swipe against the area, hand coming in focus in front of his face.

Y/n had hit him something right against the temple. A laugh blurting out past his lips in pure amusement at her actions. Turning his head to look in the direction she’d ran, moving to swipe his tongue along his bottom lip, catching a bit of blood that had splattered there.

“Okay we can play it that way.” He muttered to himself, flicking his gaze briefly downwards notinging the object he’d been hit with was a fucking mini angel statues she’d gotten as a house warming gift from the neighbours a few years ago. The irony not lost on him.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui @audreybub @sleepyvic @winwintea

(This Taglist is used for all my nct context so if you’d like to be tagged in my nct content please comment or write to me to be added)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I was going to add an interaction of haechan with the cat, but im not doing that considering the fact i love cats and animals in general too much. sidenote: due to rushed time this is not proofread and will be edited soon.

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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fickleminder · 1 year ago

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seven supervillains and one (1) normie

You move in with seven normal, law-abiding housemates.

Here’s my piece for @obeymezine! Leftover sales are live till Dec 15th, so do consider supporting us since all proceeds will be going to charity :)

Lucifer looks even more handsome in person.

You find yourself paying more attention to him and the deep timbre of his voice than the tour of Serenity Manor and its rules. Only a firm call of your name snaps you back to the present.

“This will be your room,” he says, opening one last door for you to step through. It’s decently furnished with all the basic necessities and has an en suite to boot. How generous. “Is this to your satisfaction?”

“Oh absolutely, everything looks great!” You wheel your luggage into a corner and set your backpack down on the large study table. “I still can’t believe I got matched with you guys for the boarding program. Thank you so much for having me!”

“The pleasure is ours.” Lucifer gives you a polite nod. “Make yourself at home, and I will introduce you to my brothers tomorrow. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us.”

“Surveillance systems are online,” Levi reports as all eyes watch you unpack on the screen. “Ugh, bugging rooms is so old school. It’s only the first day, I doubt there’ll be any suspicious activity.”

“And it better stay that way.” Satan’s already profiling you from your posters on the walls, your stuffed sheep on the bed, your clothes in the closet. No red flags yet, as far as he can discern.

“Pfft, what can one exchange student do to us?” Mammon scoffs. Your background check was clean, your documents checked out. In every practical sense, you were an ordinary postgraduate taking courses at the local university for a year. “Loosen up guys!”

Lucifer shoots him a glare indicating he has no intention of doing so. “No funny business. It’s unfortunate that we have to go undercover in our own home, but Elysium’s agents are on to us. We need to mask our activities and blend in, and we have no choice but to wait for them to leave. Until then, continue to follow Prince’s orders, but keep things low-key. Do I make myself clear?”

“—massive destruction of property at Settler’s factory premises. Witnesses say it was Gluttony in another one of his rampages, and this marks the fourth attack in…”

You glance towards a face-palming Lucifer at the breakfast table. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine.” He smiles through gritted teeth and switches off the TV, silencing the news.

You have a few days before classes officially start, so you decide to take some time familiarizing yourself with the town. Lucifer has graciously agreed to escort you, along with one of his brothers.

“And that’s about it, really. Is there anywhere else you wanna go?” Belphie asks after they’ve given you a cursory tour. You mention wanting to return to the confectionery shop you passed by a while back, and he smirks. “Sure, but if you’re looking for Settler products, they might not have much stock.”

“That’s alright! They used to be one of my favorite brands you know, but then I found out they engaged in a lot of questionable business practices. It’s a shame really, I liked their stuff.”

Lucifer feels his work phone vibrating in his pocket all of a sudden and curses mentally. What could Barbatos possibly want at this moment? “Apologies, I… have to use the washroom,” he excuses himself in a hurry, discreetly signaling Belphie to cover for him before running off.

Almost half an hour passes with no Lucifer in sight.

“He’s been gone for a while. Should we go and check up on him?” You ask worriedly.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Belphie sniggers. “He usually takes really long shits anyway. Let’s just go. He’ll catch up eventually.”

Lucifer meets you back in the manor at the end of the day, and you miss the dirty look he sends Belphie behind your back after you recommend some home remedies for treating diarrhea.

“Satan, I need some advice!” The blond follows your voice to the kitchen and freezes when he sees you holding his collection of hunting knives. For gutting people, not cutting meat. “I’m making lunch. Which of these are for fruits and vegetables?”

This is why Lucifer always nags us about picking up our toys, Satan realizes belatedly. Fuck, he probably left them out on the couch or something. At least he’d remembered to clean off the blood first. “Those aren’t for cooking. They’re for, uh, self-defense.” Idiot, is that the best you could come up with? There’s no way it’ll—

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have assumed.” You gasp and quickly return the knives to him. “One of my old roommates used to sleep with a dagger under their pillow, though I personally prefer to keep a baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, didn’t some rich politician get murdered in his own house just recently? The manor seems secure and you guys have Cerberus, but better safe than sorry I guess.”

Satan is still reeling from your sheer obliviousness, but he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I completely agree,” he says with a poker face.

Mammon’s Lexura is a sight to behold, but you’re more interested in how fast she can go.

“Oi, I know you’re worried about your friend but keep your oily fingers to yourself, you hear?” He grumbles, opening the garage door for you and Beel to enter. “Which mall was it again?”

“The one with Bullseye,” you reply distractedly, furiously tapping away on your phone. “I can’t believe she and her girlfriend got harassed in public. You only read stories about this happening to other people online. What kind of fucked up organization calls themselves a charity and— Shit!”

You trip on something and drop your phone. It bounces and skids under Mammon’s car, but Beel instinctively steps forward before you can even react. With one arm, he tilts the vehicle just enough for you to duck under and retrieve it.

“Wow, thanks so much Beel!” You dust your phone off and check for cracks on the screen while Mammon sweats buckets behind you. “You gotta share your workout routine with me sometime. Hey, do you mind coming along and being our muscle for the day?”

“Okay.” Beel agrees easily, and you pump your fists.

“—worth millions. The curator declined to comment…”

“This is crazy, I was there just last week!” You exclaim while chewing on your dinner. “The museum had lots of cool stuff on display. Mostly illegally imported, if you catch my drift, but not anymore huh?”

Asmo winks at you. “What a shame. You could have seen Lust in action first-hand.”

“Aren’t heists supposed to be discreet? He is pretty good-looking though, I’ll give him that.”

“Is he prettier than me?” The entire table goes deathly silent as you squint between Asmo’s fluttering eyelashes and the masked supervillain on the TV screen. “Don’t you think he’d look better with a boob window?”

“…Nah, he doesn’t have the tiddies to pull it off.” Your gaze unconsciously flickers to Beel’s chest. “Plus the butts don’t match. Yours is flatter.”

Asmo’s jaw drops in mock outrage. “Honey, have you been checking me out? How very scandalous of you~”

“Enough, please.” Lucifer sighs amidst your spluttering.

“That’s it. We’re screwed, our cover is blown. I knew this was a bad idea…”

“Let’s just resort to good ol’ fashioned murder and then frame it as a runaway case. No one will ever know!”

“This manor is a fortress located in the safest part of town. What the fuck do you think people will presume there is to run from?”

“There were a couple of close calls, but I think we’re still in the clear.” Beel recalls you quoting your statistics professor after an extended period of time where one of them would come home late the night before a major news event: correlation does not imply causation.

“Need I remind all of you, it was our proposal to join the boarding program as a front. Prince approved it himself, and I won’t allow us to back out now.”

“Shut up, Lucifer. Don’t you have any politicians to assassinate?” Belphie sneers.

“We will see this through.” Lucifer refuses to budge, ever the prideful bastard. “We’re still safe, but keep your guards up. Understood?”

The kitchen is pitch black this time of night, but Levi’s had years to figure out a way around without alerting anyone he’s back.

“I hate on-site jobs,” he grumbles to himself. “What kind of company doesn’t have remote access to their servers nowadays? Let’s see how they like it when people steal and sell their private data instead, muahahaha— Eek!”

“Hmm? Levi?” You stifle a yawn and shuffle towards the rack of cups. “Why’re you up at this hour?”

Levi is still blinking away the spots in his vision from the sudden onslaught of light when you flipped the switch. He pales as you stare at his costume and equipment on the counter. “Wait, it’s not what it looks like—”

“Late con, huh? Must have been fun. You were still in character there. Heheh.” You pour yourself a glass of water. “Nice cosplay by the way. G’night.”

“G-goodnight!” Levi waits to hear the sound of your door closing before wheezing hysterically in relief.

You sigh blissfully under the weight of four cats lounging on various parts of your body. “I’ll admit I had my doubts at first, but this is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Satan takes a long sip of his tea while petting the snoozing tabby on his lap. He looks like one of those criminal masterminds in the movies. “Visiting cat shelters is the best way to unwind after a long week. And don’t worry, I have it on good authority that this one actually takes proper care of our furry friends.”

“That’s reassuring to hear! I’ll never understand why anyone would want to hurt these precious babies.” A little calico wanders near your face and boops your nose with its toe beans. “If only all shelters could be as noble as this one. Remind me to stop by the donation box before we leave!”

“Gladly. Speaking of donations, remember that charity group that messed with your friends? I heard someone stole every last penny from their funds and now they’re on the verge of insolvency. Truly, this is karma at work.”

“Schadenfreude!” You cheer before the two of you clink cups and drink.

“Hey, you’ve been in there for a while now. Do you need— Oh.”

“Belphie!” You grin at him sheepishly and fidget with your rubber gloves. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this. My old dorm had a janitor, so I’ve never been assigned toilet duty before…”

“No wonder. You’d be dead in minutes if you kept this up,” Belphie snaps, quickly moving the unopened bottle of bleach away from you. “Mixing cleaning products is a sure-fire way to poison yourself.”

You wince at his harsh tone, and Belphie’s expression softens in sympathy.

“Here, I’ll teach you.” And then he proceeds to detail exactly what chemicals are in each product, which combinations produce different kinds of fumes with varying levels of toxicity, how to make odorless gasses that can kill a man in seconds—

“Why’d you stop?” You protest when Belphie abruptly cuts himself off. He’s probably feeling embarrassed about oversharing. “This is super informational. I’d be dead without you!”

“…Right.” He blinks, nonplussed. “You’re welcome, or whatever. Just stay away from the bleach, okay?”

Mammon shuffles the deck with deft hands and explains the rules. “You play as an Elysium agent of your choice, and your goal is to defeat the mob boss terrorizing the city: Jesús Iglesias Ken. The game can be competitive or cooperative depending on which rules we follow, but I say we do competitive mode and bet on the winner!”

“Ugh, shaddup Mammon!” Levi groans while you set up the board and pieces.

“Now, for the characters! We have Kid, a tiny chihuahua of an agent who has lots of good buffs from the sweets he eats. Director, who can move other players during his turn; but don’t get fooled by his smile. He can be super scary sometimes! Spear, man that guy packs a punch. He’s a damage dealer with shitty taste buds.”

Too busy paying attention to Mammon, you don’t see the way Levi makes throat-slitting gestures and mouths SHUT UP SHUT UP STUPIDMAMMON—

“There are also NPCs like Sorcerer, who can help or hinder you depending on your actions, shady bastard. And Aristocrat, who’s on the villain’s side and a total bootlicker, but he gives valuable intel for the right price.”

“How do you know all of this? I don’t see it in the rule book.” You scan the character description section intently. “Don’t tell me… You’re secretly a fan!”

Mammon chokes, finally catching on to Levi’s signals. Both of them exchange wide-eyed looks before forcibly grinning at you. “Yeah, totally, I’m a fan! Hahaha…”

“What a nerd, right?” Levi laughs nervously. “Anyway, this game is more fun with more players, so let’s just play something else for now, okay? Okay.”

“I’ve got reports that Elysium’s agents are finally moving out. We should be cleared to resume normal operations soon.”

“Our plan worked like a charm! Ooh, we’re so close~”

“Good job, everyone.” Lucifer nods with a satisfied smile. “This will all be over shortly. And just in time too. A year’s almost up.”

Everyone falls silent as their thoughts drift to you. It’ll be quiet without you around; you may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but you were always kind and genuine with all of them. It goes without saying that they’ll definitely miss you once you’re gone.

“We should stay in touch,” Mammon proposes suddenly, looking none of his brothers in the eye. “Y’know, to keep tabs and make sure we weren’t compromised or anything. See things through to the end and all that.”

For once, nobody objects to Mammon’s idea. “Indeed,” Lucifer murmurs in approval.

“I’ll be on campus studying for my ethics finals. See you all at dinner!”

You set up camp at your favorite corner: a little nook in the section of the library that’s perpetually empty. Just as you make yourself comfortable and open your laptop, someone pings you with an encrypted message.

Grinning to yourself, you easily bypass Levi’s embedded spyware and open up a private channel to take the call. “Barb, it’s so good to hear from you!”

“Good afternoon.” A polished voice greets you from the speakers, and you quickly plug in your headphones to prevent eavesdropping. “Apologies for the disturbance, but I have the data you requested.”

“Thanks Barbatos. You really are the best AI I’ve ever created!”

“I am the only AI you’ve ever created, but the sentiment is acknowledged. Did your side project go well?”

“Always so humble, haha! And yes, it went wonderfully! It’s so good to finally meet the brothers face-to-face. They’re such a lively bunch!”

“I concur. Back to business: the up-and-coming cosmetics company you asked me to look into? It turns out your hunch was right; I’ve found evidence that they rely heavily on animal testing for their products.”

“A job for Belphie then. He’ll know how to put those chemicals to better use.”

“Of course. On a separate note, another political party has been pushing for…”

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #zine

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ashlynniis-bracketeers · 1 month ago

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E.G.OBLAST {Antonblast/PMoon}

Merry Crisis, have some crossover silliness.

So me (and a few other people I know that are into both PMoon and Antonblast) have been trying to make Antonblast character/Abno E.G.O pairings... because Funny™. I've drawn other E.G.O pairings, but I don't think they're up to the same quality as the ones I'm posting here, so I'll probably redraw those lmao.

I'll put those older ones under the cut, though. Easier to do "indirect" things like that on Tumblr lmao.

This will be a lot of text, so I'll put all of my explanations under a cut. Big ol' thing.

I hope you like it!

Cut time.

Annie: I drew the Annie one today in Krita.

She's an obnoxious hellion (affectionate) at the best of times, only going on the Kick-Satan's-Ass Adventure for the sake of causing carnage, so I felt that Singing Machine for all of its annoyingness (Can't have too low of one stat... but also can't have too high of another! Fuck off) and tendency to cause chaos would fit her. Meat Lantern could probably also fit. Not sure what Limbus Abno/E.G.O could fit her, though...

Decided to give Annie both versions of the Harmony E.G.O weapon (Bazooka from LobCorp, grinder guitar from Ruina), with Ruina's suit (because SM doesn't have a suit in LobCorp) and LobCorp's gift. She deserves both weapons, it'd let her do maximum chaos. Meanwhile, her Corroded form is basically just the Singing Machine itself with eyes, legs, her morningstar in its mouth, and a silly hat. Basically an exited dog made of buzzsaws lmao.

The text reads: How about we made some REAL noise? (Awakening) - Louder, LOUDER! Better, make it better, make it LOUDER, LOUDER, LOUDER!!! (Corrosion)

Satan: I drew this one (and Freako's) in MS Paint lmao.

For his LobCorp/Ruina E.G.O, I decided to give him Sanguine Desire. As for the explanation, well... have you seen the Red Shoes' quotes in Library of Ruina + Corroded Sanguine Desire Rodion's quote? All for a more vivid, luscious shade of red. Honestly, his ass is not Awakening if he gets his hands on that E.G.O, he's Corroding immediately lmao.

I actually do have a Limbus E.G.O in mind for him: Blind Obsession (Dream-Devouring Siltcurrent). His obsession with becoming the Reddest of the Red is all-consuming and does nothing but leave him miserable, as does the DDSC's desire to sink into the dark depths as to "shine brighter than anything in that dark place". I also think that the guy that desperately wants to be red getting a very blue E.G.O (which is also Pride-affinity, also blue) is rather funny lmao.

I don't know what kind of hooved legs he has, so I based his skeletal leg in his Corroded form off of horses.

I didn't write any quotes for it, but I managed to figure some out in Discord chats: C'mon, now. Just a little cut here..." (Awakening) - Red, red, RED! RED, RED, RED, REDDER, REDDER, EVER MORE RED! GIVE IT TO ME, ALL OF IT! (Corrosion)

Freako Dragon: Also drawn in MS Paint.

Dragon with a body made of pachinko balls, and his associated sin is Greed... but Greed isn't a Sin Affinity in Limbus, seemingly absorbed into Gluttony. I felt that Effervescent Corrosion would fit, replacing the pachinko balls with pearls.

For the Corroded form, I put multiple pearls in the clam mouth to look like his body curled up inside it, like a dragon protecting its hoard. I colored the join-circles with the same colors as his eyes when he's charging in his fight.

I'm not really sure what LobCorp/Ruina E.G.O would for him... Old Faith and Promise, the literal gambling-mechanic Abno, doesn't have its own E.G.O rofl.

The text reads: Hah! Sticky. Stuck in your head, huh? (Awakening) - Come here! Come and try to claim my riches! (Corrosion)

Also, here's the other pics

Hex Nail Brulo (because... er, "attachment issues").

Blind Obsession Satan (see above, under Sanguine Desire)

Pleasure Anton (substance abuse themes + red + UR HEAD ASPLODE)

#Antonblast #Project Moon #anton blast #crossover #crossovers #Brackets Draws #Brackets's Art #E.G.O Corrosion #Singing Machine #Sanguine Desire #Ambling Pearl #Effervescent Corrosion #Satan #Dynamite Annie #Freako Dragon #blood #body horror

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elkcrown · 1 year ago

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you know what since I was talking about the rain world ending and i rambled a little about the karma system and how its all fake.

Big spoilers ahead and whatever I will be talking thoroughly abt the game lore (excluding downpour i don't consider it canon).

Karma in rain world isn't real and we've all been tricked to think it matters at all.

Here's a list of things we should consider regarding the information about karma.

We start on the lowest karma, and as slugcat rests it goes up until it caps at 5. Each of these karma levels represent the basic animal urges. Violence, lust, companionship, gluttony, survival.

The ancients are the ones that considered shedding the base natural urges of an animal necessary for ascension.

The ancients are also the ones that proposed the idea of ascension, and declared that the cycle of life, death, and rebirth is so awful that no creature would want to be a part of it.

(light blue pearl, outskirts)

Now, a lot of this game is about religion- and in the case of the ancients it touches upon the idea of the opressiveness of religion and exploitation therein. Anytime I think about how the ancients left behind the iterators to "solve the problem" for the rest of the creatures, it makes me think of how missionaries go to places to try and "save" the people there.

The ancients' religion is a manipulative cult. First, they convince (almost) all of their people that life is awful. Then, they continue with proposing the idea of solving that problem- no longer living. But there's a catch! You have to die correctly. You have to EARN this "blissful" release from the horrible fact of living. Either by rigorous torture (living off of tea and starving yourself) or by paying money.

(Bright red pearl, farm arrays)

Then, they make it a societal norm- an HONOUR to die in the way They Think Is Correct. But you HAVE to do everything they say to shed yourself of those nasty animal urges and be ready for ASCENSION. And they put a price on it.

But we have to remember, not only did they create a religion that convinced them all that living is horrible...

They destroyed the entire ecosystem that used to be there and replaced it with ruins or whatever managed to descend from purposed organisms.

The ancients were able to alter cells of creatures- the ability to do such a thing at all is described here.

(Gold pearl, Chimney Canopy)

So who is to say that they didn't alter the cells of their own people? That they didn't create all purposed organisms with that idea of karma inside of them? The gates respond to the slugcat, it reads something about its karma. Its a machine reading something within its genetic data. The guardians respond to creatures with karma- and in fact are hostile to anything NOT at karma 10.

But the guardians were made by the ancients to protect their temples. To prevent anyone "unworthy" from going down.

The iterators are forbidden from altering their own karma- how is that something you can do if its not an actual, physical trait somewhere within them? Somewhere within their genetic code that the ancients tampered with?

But most notably-

Cheesing your way past the guardians using flashbangs and throwboosts is an intended feature of the game, and you can go down and into the sea and ascend with no issue. If karma truly mattered for ascension, then why can we ascend without the approval of the guardians?

Slugcats are descendants of purposed organisms, they have this "karma" meter wired into their bodies.

So anyway karma isn't real and the ancients forced a mass suicide of their own kind as Im sure whoever benefitted from exploiting their own citizens had been long gone, leaving behind nations of people desperate to leave the world behind as they have been convinced its the only thing to save them from the horrors of living.

#There's still a lot of questions to be figured out regarding what the hell echoes are #the whole ending sequence #what even are the worms #etc etc. Which im still mulling about but man if there's one thing I am confident about its that karma isn't real.#six grains of gravel is a fucking liar btw #we found a way my ass you're an echo buddy #you didnt find shit #not art #rain world #rw tag #im having big lore thoughts ok leave me alone

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 9 months ago

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I can't stop thinking about that one-night-stand stucky fic you wrote where they meet at a bar and bucky is stuffing his fat belly full of food and steve is filling his own fat belly full of alcohol, and i can't stop thinking about them meeting months later and they're just absolutely massive, their guts (and the rest of them) even bigger than the last time they saw each other, and in that time their hobbies have gotten even worse. I imagine that Bucky always needs to be full and heavy and tight and so he carries around snacks and things wherever he goes, and steve always needs to be sloshy and drunk and gravid so he carries around those little aeroplane-sized bottles of alcohol to top him off whenever he feels like he needs a re-up, and i think that if they decided to do more than a one-night-stand the next time they meet and appreciate how badly the two of them have been consumed by their gluttony and their desires, i think they could be so good for each other, bucky always making sure steve has a steady supply of alcohol and beer to make his belly constantly sloshy and his head constantly empty, steve to ensure that bucky has enough food to keep his gut stuffed and full... i don't know, i think you've ruined me, i love it....

One night stand stucky

Oh, yeah, their “hobbies.” I don’t think getting drunk (actually drunk or just food drunk) counts as a hobby but… that’s cute. We can pretend that it counts to indulge them and ourselves. Besides, Lord knows both Bucky and Steve think of their respective bad habit of filling themselves up to the brim as hobbies, hobbies that are so pleasurable and all-consuming that they just can’t stop. Isn’t the point of a hobby for it to be something that you find enjoyable and can spend your leisure time doing? It’s so goddamn hot for both of them, it feels so good to be filled up to the point of heavy, round bellies leaving them beached that they lose track of time. Time flies when you’re having fun. And, oops, exactly like you said, it spirals out into their daily lives. They can’t help themselves! Their hobbies are just so fun, why would they ever want to do anything else?

Stucky belly kink under the read more. Warnings for alcohol consumption/intox kink, stuffing, semi-public sex acts (but in the feedism way), weight gain, mutual gaining, etc.

So, Steve has miniature bottles of booze with him all the time. Every hour of every day, no matter where he is. Those little bottles that he can easily sip from, covert, or sometimes, he just says fuck it and brings flasks or water bottles to have with him as he goes out and about. There’s only so much those little bottles can do when he’s working with the fat keg that is his distended, hard gut. Sips don’t fill him up, he needs chugs and chugs. Steve doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself if he’s not sloshing and so full that he has to burp, desperately trying to relieve some of that straining pressure, otherwise he might pop. If he isn’t sweating and panting from overfullness, he feels lost, more lost than he does when he’s drunk as shit.

Steve waddles around all day thinking of two things: when can he get more booze than just those airplane bottles and when can he get out of his fucking clothes, they’re so tight and rubbing his stretched itchy skin. He just wants to spread out on his couch in front of the huge TV in his apartment, pounding beers, gut bulging into his lap, weighing heavily down on his thighs, and dropping between his thighs. It’s so big these days with its mass keeping him pinned in place unless it’s an emergency (re: unless he runs out of drinks).

More than airplane bottles, flasks, and water bottles, Steve even considers buying one of those wine bra things, he’s already got quite the rack going, the alcohol going somewhere other than his gut (finally), so it wouldn’t make a huge difference right? Actually, he could probably get away with a camelback, right? His gut makes his spine arch so far forward, dragged by the weight pinned onto his front and barely balanced by his growing ass, that it wouldn’t be that noticeable. He could fill one of those up with alcohol and go to town anywhere anytime, wouldn’t that be the fucking dream? Steve’s chunky, heavy body shivers just thinking about it.

Meanwhile, Bucky has snacks - snacks on snacks on snacks. At first, when he starts to himself go, first allowing himself to leave the house during the day so packed that he has pit stains and crescent moons under his flabby tits, exhausted by the effort of dragging his belly everywhere with him, so heavy, he’s shameful enough to just slip a few protein and candy bars in his pockets alongside loose change that he knows he’s just going to end up using for vending machines wherever he can find them, exchanging the cold, hard coins for sugary, fatty goodness that will be gone in too few bites. Quickly, he loses his shame, though. It sheds from him in bits and pieces.

He carries snacks in his pockets but as he outgrows his pants, the room in his pockets is hit by his widening hips and thicker thighs - not to even mention his ass, dear god - so he buys himself a purse. Nothing huge. Just a little bag to have “emergency” snacks to tide him over between meals of impressive size. Then, when his little snack-stuffed purse (bulging and heavy just like Bucky himself) isn’t enough, he reverts to his college years, albeit with the weight of an entire ‘nother person on his frame, carrying a backpack with him everywhere. This time around, there are no books, planners, or even a laptop in his bag. He fills his snack backpack moderately at first, but it doesn’t last because, of course, it doesn’t. If Bucky understood moderation, he would’ve ended up perverting the lean, athletic build that he spent so long procuring in high school and college into an excessive, wide, heavy body that’s so plush it’s hard to believe. Bucky wastes hours fresh out of the shower investigating himself as the weight piles on, poking and prodding and pinching his fat, his rolls thick and sliding together hotly, it’s so hard to believe the whale he’s turned himself into. He’s such a needy, big whale that his backpack gets too heavy when he drags it around throughout the day. He huffs and puffs and sweats worse than before, lugging all his snacks around. He tells himself that he can get relief from the weight by eating his snacks faster, no problem! Every bite makes the load lighter, right? But, really, if he stopped to actually think for once, he would easily realize that it does nothing of the sort. It evens out.

The hours pass and Bucky’s backpack gets lighter as he munches, sure, but his belly just gets heavier and heavier to compensate. All those empty, unneeded calories go somewhere.

Bucky moans to himself and squeezes (exaggeratedly… for now) through his apartment door to come home after a full day of eating. He’s supposedly working and taking a few snack breaks, but… as he’s lost control and shame, it’s more like he’s eating with the occasional work break. As he comes home after his hard day’s labor of stuffing his face, all Bucky can think about is how the weight of his backpack nearly pulled him over this morning when he snagged it on the way out, unprepared to pick it up with how out of shape he’s gotten. It was that heavy and now? It’s all in his gut now. Picturing his soft, empty, flabby belly in the mirror that morning, Bucky considers how it would look if he put his snack-pack on backward with the heavy, filled bag over his belly… God. It would stick out so far. It’d make him look so round. And, considering that his backpack is empty now, that’s how fat he’s gotten over the course of the day.

Fuck.

Steve swells like beer poured into a glass without being tilted, fizzing, foaming, reaching the rim of the glass, and almost overflowing. Steve’s fat is getting softer the more he gets of it, but he’s still so dense and firm. Yet, Bucky rises like proofed bread dough, all rounded with rolls escaping the sides of the pan and flowing over. Bucky’s fat is so exorbitantly soft. He’s squishy, really like bread dough, Bucky often finds himself kneading his plush body - he just can’t get enough.

This time, when the two gaining, ripening men see each other again, they meet at a grocery store, bumping into each other all those months and pounds later with nothing to dull the impact. In the broad light of day, there are no flashing club lights, no writhing bodies (mostly thin and scantily clad, but just as sweaty as the two overpacked fatties still shoving more in their greedy, moaning mouths), and no pounding music to hide behind. There’s nothing but the evidence of their indulgence on complete display.

Steve is swaying through the alcohol section, debating between different kinds of wine - who’s he kidding, though? He’s going to end up with both and he’ll knock them back so fast he probably won’t even taste the difference. He best get both. Both and more. He just, oops, he needs to be careful because he might fall on his ass and then he’ll break the bottles which would just be a fucking waste. No one would get to drink them then! Steve wants to drink them so bad, he wants to drain them both right now into his sloshing, dizzying belly. He could be heavier. He always needs to be heavier. He wants to roll back to the Uber that brought him here and he doesn’t want to be able to be stuffed into his seat. He’s going to swell himself up until he’s not only constantly giggly and dizzy but so he’s so round that a seatbelt extender will be essential, otherwise he’ll never be able to fit into a taxi or Lyft or Uber again. Godddd, he wants more already, he feels like he’s drying up despite all the sloshes and burps he’s stifling. Maybe both and then a few six-packs?

Bucky, however, is plodding through the food aisles, half-pushing, half-leaning on a cart that’s haphazardly stacked with enough food for a family of six. He’s so fucking loud and noisy between his almost ground-shaking footsteps and fast, shallow breaths. He ate before he came. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Never go grocery shopping hungry? He was just trying to follow the rules! But it doesn’t look like it’s worked on account of the crumbs around his mouth and the empty wrappers littering the baby seat of his cart. His gut is churning loudly - he just destroyed a whole box of snack cakes while debating what kind of ice cream he needs, thoughtless and shameless, only concerned with how to fill himself up until it hurts in the best way. Too tight. His belly keeps bumping the handle of the cart, so large that it makes his arms feel short.

As they’re checking out, Steve isn’t looking where he’s going and he walks straight into Bucky. Bucky isn’t looking because he’s staring at the candy bars displayed near the front of the store, trying to drool remember if there’s any at the bottom of his cart or not.

Without their attention, they end up colliding belly to belly, making them both choke and groan, pressing on their sensitive guts sends hot, intense jolts of arousal through them both. It’s like pressing on a bruise - a big, fat bruise that’s been aching constantly for what feels like months. It’s a wonder neither of them come in their pants right then, hitting together like yoga balls and stumbling backwards, almost falling, they’re so on edge after months of unending gluttony. Stretched to their limits. Steve arches his back, reveling with a groan how his whole firm gut sloshes but doesn’t move all that much, he’s solid; Bucky curls around his soft tummy, breathing through the waves of heat with his fat jiggling everywhere, barely shoving a moan down. Neither of them can be out in public like this! This was a terrible idea! Now all they want to do is slump down and pant and digest a little so they might stand a chance at, at…

Who hit him anyway?

Oh.

They both look up at the same time, meeting each other’s dilated eyes and wondering, not even needing to speak out loud, how long they’ll have to wait to digest to be able to move better, just a little less sensitive, enough to touch each other - to squeeze and grope each other. Both of their bodies have ballooned, hugely fat, but they’re still so different. Hard and round; soft with rolls. How different are they these days?

#mylevisdontfitanymore #ask #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #chubby steve #chubby bucky #belly kink #text #stuffing #weight gain #intox kink #alcohol consumption #mutual weight gain

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shiftycryptid · 2 months ago

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Fma(b) rambles (extreme lore spoilers for manga/brohood):

You ever think about how tragic the homunculi are, in a classical sense? Like just how fucking tragic it is to not simply be named for your own fatal flaw, but to be the literal embodiment of it*?

One thing that kinda strikes me is the gap in ages between the homunculi. Now tbf, we can't say for sure whether the Lust we see in the story is the first version of Lust or if she's been killed and recreated before (like we see happen to Gluttony, although ig he retained all his memories so maybe that would still count as the same one?) but if we assume that the homunculi we see are all first-editions**, that has some implications I think.

Especially since Father is explicitly Not Human. Pride and Greed are probably the most prominent traits he displays before the fall of xerxes, and you could make an argument for Envy, maybe, but the others are reaching for sure. But still, why would he need to seperate them out in the first place. He talks of 'cleansing himself of humanitie's sins' and all that, but why should he have to cleanse himself, if he was never human to begin with?

Because there are now over 500,000 human souls within him. And even though he sees them as mere energy to be consumed, as the series proves time and time again, that is simply not true. The human soul is not only tangible enough to be distilled into a stone (pebble, crystal, or gel), but no matter what happens to it, it retains personhood as a function of its being. One is all and all is one, and even if each individual soul is a tiny drop, 500,000 of them can erode a mountain, and the last thing Father needs is for them to destroy him from the inside, so he separates parts of himself, filtering for those souls that are the most proud, the most greedy, the most wrathful, and so on, and shaping that stone and all the souls inside of it, into something resembling a singular human. Its soul is a composite of many, their memories and sense of individuality destroyed, but still retaining some degree of personhood.

This is why Wrath can only ever have a single soul, because, the most wrathful souls will endlessly war against eachother until only one remains. This is why Envy's true form is literally trying to crawl out of their own skin, and why so many of their souls appear to be children - envy is loathing, but avoidant, common in children, immature.

I think Sloth is the worst when you really think about it. So you're telling me that Father specifically chose to make Sloth the living embodiment of his own slothfulness, and then make him do manual slave labour? Like I know that sounds really counterproductive when you think about it but hey do you know what Xerxes had a lot of? Actual Literal Slaves. Who were given numbers instead of names. Do you think it was calculated that those who, by design, were illiterate and very little sense of identity, would be funneled into a heavy-industrial meat mech and then told to go dig a hole for several decades, if not centuries?***

*by 'it', ig I don't mean 'universally across humanity but specific to One Guy'

**the only evidence we have to this is Hohenhiem telling Pride something along the lines of: "it's no wonder he seperated you first". If, say, the Lust we see in FMAB is the third iteration of herself and that father seperated her two weeks after he did Pride bc he's a horny motherfucker, then that has some Implications on its own.

***might I also remind you, it was slaves who dug the trenches that destroyed Xerxes.

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fma manga #i'm kinda backed rn i hope this makes literally any sense

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alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody · 4 months ago

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kinktober #19

Invasive Vines 🌿 / Sweet Shop 🍭

“Candy’s possessed,” David announces, and Ben shakes his head.

“Always has been.”

“What?” says Kristen, cocking her head, and Ben rolls his eyes.

“You’ve never seen that meme? You have four meme-age daughters and you’ve never seen the astronaut meme?”

Kristen shrugs. Ben goes to pull it up on his phone.

Father Ignatius fills them in on the case; a candy shop in Brooklyn has reported an unusual increase in gluttony from its customers and employees. Apparently it’s not the only candy shop affected recently, either — just the only one devout enough to call the church.

“How do we know it’s demonic gluttony and not just kids pulling pranks for Halloween?” David asks, and Father Ignatius shrugs.

“How should I know? That’s your job. I know it feels like busy work, but if it really is something demonic, it would be good to get a jump on it before the holiday. I get enough parents asking about razor blades in apples and whether celebrating Halloween is un-Christian without adding demonic candy to the mix.”

“Razor blades in apples has never been a thing,” says Ben. “It’s like the hoax about people giving kids drugs in Halloween candy. No one is wasting their hard-earned drugs on trick-or-treaters.”

Sister Andrea falls in with them as they file out of his office as if she’d been part of the conversation the whole time. “Well, of course it would be candy eventually,” she says. “Why do you think I use marshmallows to catch demons? They’ll eat themselves sick on the stuff if they get the chance.”

“Do you?” asks Kristen with interest. “Use marshmallows?”

Sister Andrea nods. “For the smaller ones, yes.”

“Okay,” says Kristen, because sure, why not. “Please don’t ever tell my girls about that. We’d never get rid of the ants.”

She lets Ben sit shotgun as David drives them out to Brooklyn, her gaze flickering between the Halloween decorations adorning the blur of brownstones outside her window and the open bag of candy corn in the center console between the boys.

“Where’d that come from?” she asks, leaning forward and crinkling the bag.

David shrugs. “One of the church volunteers leaves little baskets for everyone at the church. She never misses a holiday.”

“Huh,” says Kristen. She’s not much for candy corn, but there’s something irresistibly sweet about watching David and Ben throw back handfuls while they talk about the case and banter about who had the worst Halloween costume back in the day (Ben pulls up a picture of him and Karima as awkward teens, wearing the most half-hearted, ill-fitting generic Star Trek uniforms Kristen has ever seen: “Mom didn’t exactly get the memo on what they were supposed to look like.”)

When they pull up to the candy shop, the place looks worse for the wear. The front window has been smashed and covered over with brown paper scrawled with the words WE’RE OPEN!, and the doorknob looks like it’s been blown off with dynamite and recently replaced with a shiny new one. “Jesus,” says Ben, cradling the new knob in his hand, and David’s brow furrows.

“Is Halloween that cutthroat these days?”

“Spend an hour at my house after trick-or-treating,” says Kristen over her shoulder. “It’ll make your war journalism career look like Goodnight Moon.”

Ben laughs and follows her in, and David shepherds them from behind. The shop owner explains that they’ve had problems recently with employees stealing sweets from the store in bulk, with customers coming back to demand more than they paid for with the sweaty, aggressive insistence of desperation, with break-ins faster than they can repair the front windows that leave the till and safe untouched, but the candy bins emptied.

“Is there one candy that seems to be more of an incentive than the others?” asks David, and the shop owner shrugs.

“The frogs have been a target. So has the candy corn, the regular and the pumpkins.”

Kristen mouths The frogs have been a target to Ben over David’s shoulder. The air inside is warm and humid despite the October chill outside, and when she leans over one of the bins and picks up a gummy frog with a marshmallowy underside, it sticks unpleasantly to her fingers.

“And do they share a manufacturer?�� asks Ben, sweeping his gaze around the shop. “Could’ve been some sort of chemical additive accidentally mixed into certain batches that’s reacting with a common medication or something.”

“Sure, lots of them come from Wingate’s in Jersey,” says the shop owner dubiously, “but not all of the varieties from the same manufacturer are causing the problems. The jujubes are made there, too, and nobody’s touching those.”

“That’s because they’re jujubes,” says Ben under his breath.

“I like jujubes,” Kristen protests in a whisper.

“We’ll look into it,” David overlaps, louder. “Please don’t hesitate to call us if anything further happens.”

“Honestly?” says Ben from the backseat when they’re safely ensconced in the car. “Ignatius is right, this does feel like busy work. It’s probably some local parenting group trying to make a statement about how addicted kids are to sugar these days.”

“Ooh, yeah, probably,” agrees Kristen. “That’d be a pretty savvy approach, actually. Call the church, call it evil, and bam, you’ve got a great excuse to toss your kid’s Halloween candy.”

“Yeah,” says Ben, leaning forward for another handful of candy corn. “Or to eat it all yourself.”

—

The next day, both of the boys look under the weather. Ben’s brown skin looks a bit grayer than usual, and David’s forehead is beaded with sweat, even though St. Joseph’s Parish is notoriously drafty. They’re waiting for her on a bench in the church hall, Ben slumped lightly against David’s big body,

“You guys good?” asks Kristen, setting her bag down beside David’s knee. “There a cold or something going around?”

David grimaces. “I’ve got some bad news about that candy corn.”

“Oh no,” says Kristen, her stomach dropping. “From the volunteer?”

Ben nods, pressing an arm to his own stomach. “Yep.”

“So, what?” she says, laying her palm first on David’s forehead, then Ben’s: they’re both a little damp, but not feverish. “Were you both just up snarfing candy corn all night?”

“Yeah, just about,” says David, eyes downcast. In his turtleneck and thick sweater, he looks less like a man of God and more like a New England college student trying to explain away a hangover. “I said Mass this morning, but I had Father Dement take over for me this evening. I feel awful.”

“Do we think it’s related to the case?” Kristen asks, patting both of their knees and squeezing herself in between them. “Like a sabotage attempt?”

“Nah,” says Ben, stifling a burp. “I think we just got caught in the crossfire. Wingate’s probably manufactures candy that’s sold all over the city. It’s gonna be a miserable Halloween for most of New York if we don’t figure this out.”

Kristen looks between them. “Do either of you really think you can survive a drive out to Brooklyn right now?”

David swallows hard. Ben shakes his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says, resting a hand on each of their knees. “What do you say we go back to my place and regroup there? The girls will be in school for a few more hours, so it’ll be quiet.”

David nods gratefully. “I didn’t realize until today how badly a sugar coma would mix with church incense.”

“Why do I feel like maybe this is your doing?” Ben teases weakly as Kristen helps him to his feet. Beneath his t-shirt, she can see that he’s bloated, his stomach pressing against the thin fabric. David’s sweater is too thick for her to do the same, but now she wants to know. “Like you decided we needed a day to get mommed and slipped us wacky candy corn.”

“Oh, yes,” says Kristen, hauling up David next. He’s heavier, and when she puts a hand on his middle to steady herself, she gets the answer she’s craving: his stomach, too, feels hard and round beneath his clothing. “I’ve been playing the long game, dressing up as a little old lady and dropping off holiday gift baskets for everyone at church for years just to prepare for this moment because I think you guys aren’t getting enough days off.”

“Hmm,” says David, mock-suspicious. “I never said it was a little old lady.”

“They’re volunteers at the Catholic church,” quips Ben from Kristen’s other side. “The population skews heavily toward little old ladies.”

David laughs, then winces, palming at his belly. Kristen covers his hand with her own, and even though she’d never want him or Ben to be uncomfortable, there’s something thrilling about how big he feels, how packed full. She wants desperately to hear the sounds the two of them might make about it.

“So,” she says, hooking arms with them and leading them out to the car. “How long do you think before this candy thing goes viral?”

—

David and Ben are quiet on the drive back to Kristen’s. She keeps the heat off despite the chill, opens the windows to let in the rich, therapeutic wet-leaves-and-rain scent of fall, and she even resists the urge to crank up the radio and sing along when “Short Skirt/Long Jacket” comes on.

She gets the boys set up on the couch, brings blankets and pillows, and digs up the green ginger tea she only ever pulls out when one of the girls is sick. She finds a half-empty, probably-flat bottle of ginger ale she clearly shoved to the back of the fridge months ago and forgot about and divides it among two glasses with ice, then pulls three mismatched mugs from the cabinet and pours tea. It takes two near disasters before she decides that she cannot cool-girl it up and walk out with all five cups at once.

“Need help?” calls David from the next room.

“Nope, I got it!” she yells back. “Just sit there and relax!”

She takes the ginger ale out first, then the tea. They’ve left room for her between them on the couch, and she slides in easily. “How’s that?” she asks, giving Ben’s stomach a little pat and David’s knee a squeeze. “I can get the heating pack from upstairs, too, if you want it.”

“Maybe later,” says David, wrapping an arm around Kristen as Ben starts on his tea. “I’ll just use your heat for now.”

“Mmm, fine by me.” She tucks her sock feet beneath her on the couch and gently massages his swollen belly. “You feeling any better?”

David catches a burp in his fist. “Not as nauseous. Just achy.”

She applies a bit of pressure with her hand, and David lets out a soft noise that would make her weak if she weren’t already curled on the couch. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Yeah, there you go, baby. Let it all out.”

“Hey, can I get in on this?” asks Ben, shifting his weight so he’s canted more toward Kristen.

“Of course! I have two hands.” But she turns in his direction and gives him some attention, too, rubbing his belly and helping him push out a few uncomfortable burps. “Yeah, that’s it. Does that feel better?”

Ben sighs. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I wonder how long it takes to detox from candy corn,” muses David, and then kicks out a laugh. “Another question I never asked myself until we started this job,”

“I feel dumb,” Ben grumbles into his mug. “This happens to people we assess, not to us.”

“That’s the universe putting us in our place,” says Kristen, sipping her own tea. “Just like my favorite Bible verse says: what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

David rolls his eyes. “Yes, what book is that again?”

Kristen shoots him a winning smile, all bright teeth and fluttering eyelashes. “Uh, I think it’s The Book of I Have Four Daughters Who Love to Push My Buttons.”

“Hey,” says Ben suddenly. “Does candy corn have gelatin in it?”

Kristen raises an eyebrow. “Ew. Does it?”

David fishes his glasses from some heretofore-unseen pocket and perches them on the end of his nose. “Looks like it does,” he says after a moment of googling. “And those frog gummies probably would, too, right? With that marshmallow base?”

“Yeah!” says Kristen, crowding in. “Do you think it’s related to the pork thing? What was the name? Belmonte?”

David scrolls. “Of the company, yeah. Garcia was the guy who ran the farm we visited.”

“Right, with the son who got possessed,” Ben puts in. “Gelatin’s gotta come from somewhere, and Jersey’s close enough that the Garcia farm could be a viable source. And it would explain why only some of the candies were affected. The stuff without gelatin would be totally fine.”

“Score one for the jujubes,” says Kristen, and Ben pokes her gently.

“Hey!” she teases. “I don’t know why you’re picking on my taste when David once told us he genuinely enjoys the Eucharist wafers.”

“You know how I think you could enjoy those?” says Ben, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “Drop ’em into hot oil like everyone’s doing with those rice paper circles on VidTap so they puff up and get crunchy. Little salt, little hot sauce …”

“You can’t deep-fry the Body of Christ,” David protests, laughing. “Another group of words I never thought I’d say in that order.”

“But are they the Body of Christ before they’re consecrated, though?” asks Kristen, drawing her knees up to her chin and leaning on David. “I think you can just buy them in bulk online, unblessed.”

“Let’s find out,” says Ben, opening his phone. “Oh, yeah. You can get a thousand for under twenty bucks.”

“Nooo,” moans David, dropping his head into his hands. “I thought we were here to regroup, not blaspheme.”

“We already regrouped,” says Kristen brightly, kissing his cheek. She takes Ben’s free hand and brings it into her lap. “Now it’s time for blaspheming. And if all this talk about communion wafers is making you hungry, I’m sure I can scrounge up something …”

“No!” yelp David and Ben in unison, and Kristen grins.

“Okay, okay. Just keep me posted. I wouldn’t want either of you going hungry.”

“I don’t think I’ll be hungry again until the weekend,” says David, leaning back on the couch and bringing his ginger ale to his lips.

Ben lets out a burp. “I dunno,” he says with a crooked smile. “I could probably be convinced a little sooner. I don’t have dinner plans tonight.”

“I’ve got chicken soup in the freezer,” says Kristen. “If I take it out now, it’ll have plenty of time to thaw. That all right?”

She ducks back into the kitchen, then gets a fresh kettle going and makes herself a little snack to eat while the water heats. When she goes out to the living room to collect mugs, Ben is bunched against David, a blanket pulled over their legs.

“Nap time?” she guesses, and they both nod. They look irresistibly cozy, and the kettle will wait, so instead she cuddles up to David’s other side and pulls the blanket over her own legs as well. Beneath the fleece, she finds David’s hands, laced over his belly, and then Ben’s, braced on David’s arm. When she dozes off, it’s to the slightly uneven rhythm of their breathing, to the warmth of their heat.

#feedist kinktober #feedist kinktober 2024 #my fic #my writing #evil tv show #kristen x david x ben #also disclaimer i was raised catholic but haven't practiced since i was a kid #so everything i know about catholicism comes from this show and penny dreadful

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ph-cutie · 4 months ago

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one thing ABT hellaverse character designs is that a lotta detractors get hung up on the fact theyre not faithful to their stated inspirations but I think more important is we stop and ask ourselves where the fuck thess motifs even came from +If they hold Relevance to the characters. cause a lotta them are so asspulled its actually a good thing methinks that vivienne didn't follow through on them

particular ones I wanna discuss:

(BEE)LZEBUB

Besides the pun, what is the link between bees and beelzebub? Beelzebub has historically been known as the lord of the flies, flies and bees are not exactly interchangeable especially their human connotations. bees (and, not to name names but every single redesign of this thing ive seen) bring forth images of highly enforced hierarchy, militaristic discipline, perfectly cut hexagons, limited diet, aka fucking everything that Contradicts the initial premise of Lord Of Gluttony, Drunkard Girl. IS IT AN UNSALVAGEABLE IDEA? No I'm sure you could do something with it. Lean into the restlessness of a buzzing hive, or into honey's consumption by humans, as a delicacy. She could whose honey lures and traps flies, or something (fact that her song is about cotton candy given her whole thing is ludicrous btw). But like i dont see the point in going "Vivienne said she's a bee so I'm literally drawing her as a bee" and calling it a day.

HUSK AND WINGS

We do not question enough why the fuck husk is a winged cat. That just came out of nowhere The real reason is that he had wings back in zootopia for whatever reason, but this is the current day. WHAT DO HIS WINGS SYMBOLIZE? A large part of his character is being trapped under Alastor, and yet birds are a symbol of freedom. The show itself doesn't give a shit but we could. He could have his wings clipped or damaged to externalize how his freedom was stolen and also explain why he doesn't fly. Or it could be one of the only liberties he was allowed to keep , in which case the story should have him flying a lot more. Or any other number of things. TLDR YOU CAN'T JUST PUT HUGE ASS WINGS ON A CAT FURRY WITHOUT MAKING IT MEAN ANYTHING (tbh though anyone else think he shouldve been a kitty manticore instead... would be kinda funny and less convoluted. but whatever)

I dont know if this post is coherent I dont wanna sleep on it <3

#hazbin critical #helluva critical

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cup1dt3a · 2 years ago

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Welcome to Blotted Wonderland

Summery: What if instead of our Mc transporting into twisted wonderland they transported into Blotted Wonderland. A dark inky land with highly unstable, obsessive, and power hungry men with lots of blood lust. How would it be if we instead the world of Wonderland was everyone they would’ve known but even more twisted? Want to come and find out? I’ll warn you though even the slightest ray of sunshine is eventually consumed by the darkness. So still willing to come adventure into the world of Blots brave one?

You felt horrible. Everything was dark and suffocating. Every sharp breath you took had little and littler oxygen. The lack of oxygen made you dizzy as you tried to stand up in this dark void. Everything was black and eerily quiet. All except your echoing breaths could be heard in the darkness. As you looked around a voice suddenly boomed in the echoing void. noticed a pitch black hand reaching out of the void of darkness.

“ Hmmm….another mortal? How strange I sense no pride, greed, envy, lust, wrath, gluttony, or even sloth. You’re quite a rare soul in this sea of lost souls. Maybe you could guide them back out of the darkness only time shall tell…Take the hand.” The chilling voice demanded as a now inky hand shot up from the floor?

You didn’t know why or what made you take the hand but you did. As soon as you did the hand had swiftly pulled you down dragging you with it into its ink filled home for it to consume you.

You gasped out taking all the oxygen you could into your burning lungs. As you hyperventilated for any amount of air you had to now get your breathing under control before continuing on. Taking a shaky breath as you started to look around the unfamiliar area. It began to look more eerie than the void you were stuck in. It had looked like an abandoned auditorium. Everything was broken and covered in what looked like to be black slime? You paid no mind to it dismissing everything else except wondering where you were.

As you walked towards the broken doors to exit the eerie room a sudden booming growl stopped you in your tracks. You could feel them breathing onto you each tremendous breath felt as if you were in a storm. This would be it for you. Dying in a foreign place and being devoured by whatever monstrous beast was behind you. Trebling in fear you squeezing your eyes shut you felt a scaled texture coil around you with a sudden hissing. The creature lifted you off the ground right in front of its ginormous face. You opened your eyes confused seeing that they hadn’t tried to eat you yet. Was this some sick game it played with its prey before ending their life? As you opened your eyes a cat like face with odd marking and Blue ears of fire looked down upon you. Along with its hissing tail? Was this it for you? All hope had seemed lost until the creature dropped you

The creature backed away from you. They then growled and charged through a broken wall creating an even bigger hole in it. You coughed at the dust flowing into the air. As the dust cleared up you could now see the horrors that would soon await for you.

Soon after seeing how playtime was over with the beast you began wondering around the area in ruins. Everything was just covered in this blotchy black slime? You weren’t sure of what the substance was, but didn’t want to find out. The area looked like an abandoned rich kid school with the broken down fancy look to it. You were soon greeted with creepy statues of what looked to be 7 Disney villains. The queen of hearts, Scar, Ursula, Jafar, The evil queen, Hade’s, and Maleficent. What odd things to have at a school. You brushed it off and soon found yourself in a hallway full of lockers. As you observed the unfamiliar area a sudden crash had you jumping back in fear. Holding your hands over your mouth so no sound could alert whatever that was. Even if it was that cat thing it could still kill you in a split second. As you tried to move farther away from the sounds of what seemed to be fighting eventually you were backed into a locker small enough for you to hide in.

“ YOU DAMED FOOL! NOW WERE EVEN DEEPER SHIT BECAUSE OF YOU!” a man with navy blue hair sneered at his red head rival. “ WOW!THATS RICH COMING FROM THE DELINQUENT!” the red head cackled harshly gripping into the bluenett hands trying to choke him out. The bluenett’s features were a little hard to make out but nothing except the twos glowing eyes stood out to you. The blue one was just as pale as the other guy and what seemed to be the same unknown slime had been marked across them like tattoos. You held your breath knowing that if either of them heard you you’d be as a good as dead. “ KNOCK IT OFF BEFORE WE GET IN EVEN MORE TROUBLE YOU TWO MORONS!” A dark man with wolf ears growled tearing the two from each other by their arms. It seems that as you focused on the two arguing you hadn’t noticed the other three men’s arrival. Each all sharing a different colored glowing eye. The green haired one tsk’d at the three as the rivals started to try beating each other to a pulp again. While the wolf eared man tried breaking their beyond violent fight. A short purple headed boy had been cheering one of them on with a thick country accent. As you had been ever so greatly unnoticed by the violent group. You eventually couldn’t hold your breath so ever so slightly you had wrapped your hand around your mouth. Hoping that it would block the sound of your trembling breaths. It didn’t.

The wolf eared man’s ear twitched as soon as you started breathing. Shouting for everyone to shut up catching all of their attention. The green haired man had also caught onto hearing your now silent breaths but thumping heart beat. The wolf eared man had soon started sniffing the air as he crept closer to the locker you were in. This was it. This was the end of the line for you. Everything you had ever done and your future now is going to be gone. As the dim lighting illuminated their features all their glowing eyes peered down upon you as the wolf was shoved out the way by the two that were just fighting. Both of them jerking you out of the cramped space. ” We’re all seeing this right!? They have no marks or blot on them!” The red head exclaimed treating you as nothing but a rag doll.

“ Holy Shit! Look at their damn eyes too!” The bluenett added on.

” Ugh it’s just a filthy human let’s just get rid of the damn thing!” The green haired man exclaimed.

“ Ok yeah let’s just kill’em! We ain’t gonna fucken kill’em dumbass it’s rare enough for someone in this hellhole to not have overblotted!But the ‘Queen ’might if they see’em.” The shorted male sarcastically rolled his eyes at the taller male.

“ Do you people not know what personal space is by any means?” The wolf growled at the group overcrowding you.

They all backed up as the more responsible one of the group analyzed you still keeping his distance. Only getting closer to sniff you. This was weird. You’d expect them to just kill you now what are they waiting for. The green haired guy is the only one you’re betting everything onto that’ll do the job and get it over with. This mercy of theirs is too good to be true. ” Let’s take them to the leaders. This human might just help us get out of the trouble you two caused!” He snapped glaring directly at them.

Who are their leaders?

Hope you all enjoyed this and that you’re having a good day or that it gets better!

Sincerely-Cup1dT3a ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

@simping-on-the-daily I remembered :D

#Overblot #Twst #twst wonderland #Overblot Series #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #twst overblot #Overblot series

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silverinkbottle · 1 year ago

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Chapter 3: Shopping Around

A/N: Delayed chapter, but here it's here! We get a glimpse of Reader's Past, Alastor's introduction and Vox's unwelcome arrival.

Word Count:4.8K

Chapter Two <- Previous Chapter

Darkness. A muted scream in the void, curling pressure around your thighs as if something was trying to drag you deeper into the black. You awoke with a sputtering cough as you jolted upward in the cozy bed. Unconsciously loosening your fingers from around your throat as you took another ragged breath. Dreams, once little escapes for the living, but in your mind a consistent reminder of the present. Black ink stained your fingertips as you looked down at them. Little delicate hands that hadn’t seen a spot of hard labor as you relied on your wits to get by. That hadn’t changed as you could feel the bitter taste of ink fading over your tastebuds. Was it getting worse? Or was it from waking up in an entirely new place that amplified your awareness?

It was all too tempting to fall back into the warm sheets as you fell back down with a huff. The weight of the bags under your eyes made it clear that you hadn’t slept well. Or if at all as you tried to remember the events of the night before. The mere fraction of movement as Lucifer tried to find the ideal spot for his desk. The chicken-scratch quality notes as he flipped through catalogs of furniture featured in the various Rings. Did he really want your opinion on flowers that had potentially fatal side effects? You could all but feel the slow pulse of headache from the mere memory of it as it reared its’ strength as your bedroom door slammed open.

The blonde tornado was in rare form today as you scrambled to keep your bedsheets up around you, while still reaching for the little black book on your nightstand. Boundaries, the King of Hell hadn’t a clue about boundaries as he continued oblivious to your discomfort. Your fogged mind managed to sort out the gist of the conversation. A shopping trip between daddy and daughter. Did you think Charlie would let him buy her new furniture? Her quarters were sparse, she deserved the world. But what if she said no? Should he take her to the boutiques of Greed first or would that opulence be too much? Was it better to ease her into it with Gluttony slow temptation?

Half of that was a muffled mess as Lucifer tripped over the edge of the floor rug into the end of your bed. His hat in disarray as you did your best to hide your laughter at his feeble leg kicks. Looking very much like his beloved waterfowl in the water as you were quick to smother your smile when he managed to right himself.

“Well. What do you think?” Lucifer huffed as you slowly trailed your pen over the hastily scribbled notes. You only knew the Princess through Lucifer’s biased views, but you could only imagine the chaos if the pair were unleashed in a Greed department store. It would be better for them to warm up, it seemed.

“Perhaps, a trip to Guttony for a spot of breakfast would be best.” You cautioned as Lucifer nodded in agreement. A full stomach would dissuade even the most determined of shoppers. It was an unfortunate flaw that even you admitted to as you became quite sluggish in the morning if it wasn’t a light meal.

“But I don’t know what she would like..what if-”

“It's the Gluttony Ring, sir, I am sure she will find something that tickles her fancy..” You were quick to cut off the words with a firm, but kind tone. The last thing you needed was the misanthropic man agonizing over if his estranged child would prefer pancakes over scones. Discreetly pulling on your robe, you were quick to usher him out of your quarters with a few nods of affirmation and hums.

There was a distant screech of protest and shouts as Lucifer had taken off to find Charlie without a second glance. Did she know about the trip? Far coarser words bounced off the walls from Vaggie, as the answer came in a resounding NO. Spontaneity ran in the family as a loud squeal came from Charlie as who knew what sorts of ideas Lucifer was filling her head with.

Quickly slamming your bedroom door shut, to prevent you having TWO issues on your hands. Charlie, at least, seemed to have a sense of space compared to her father. An eerie sense of calm trickled through you. A day off? It wasn’t as if Lucifer would drag you along to intrude on a bit of family bonding time. Still, the concept almost felt foreign to your workaholic mind as you trudged over your wardrobe with little flair. You couldn’t lay in bed all day, it was far too indulgent. Nor would sleep find you as you could feel your throat tighten at the thought.

No, there was a far more appealing option. A nice drink and your little black book.

The parlor of the hotel was strangely quiet aside from the faint click of glasses from the bar. Even its usual barfly was out for the day as you fiddled with the collar of your coat. Husker acknowledged your presence with a grunt before taking a better look at your outfit.

“It's a bit morbid isn’t it?”

“I prefer nostalgia. Mink was expensive in my time, don’t you know..” You retorted with a sniff. Your ears twitched as you could hear a rumble of activity from upstairs. Nothing fell through the second floor, so things seemed to be fine. Yet, the bartender had a point. The flattened empty skin of a fox’s head draped over your throat, while its brilliant coat of reds and whites curled around your body. The coat’s lower half mingled with warmer felts and velvets as it tried to conceal the poorer quality of the pelt. Clasped closed by the steel brooch as you crossed your legs revealing a sliver of fishnets beneath the pelts as you leaned against the bar.

“Now are you going to critique my choices in fashion or are you going to serve me a drink?”

“Gin n tonic?”

“Make it a whisky on the rocks. It’s my day off..” You muttered as Husker raised a furred brow at the drastic change in choice. A gin and tonic was light, botanical and easier on the tongue. Yet, whiskey burned like hot coals as it slid down the gullet. Even if garnished with a lemon twist as the little twist elegantly floated in the amber liquid. Oh, it burned, it burned away at the whispering thoughts as you were quick to order another. Then another. Burning away memories like a greedy flame licking away at fresh paper.

“And he thinks it’s alright!” Your voice pitched in emotion as you slammed your hand down on the polished counter as Husker looked more and more put out with each passing second. As if this sort of situation had been forced upon him frequently. He was a bartender afterall.

“So, we talking about the big boss or Al?” Husker growled

“That’s-not-the-point” You hiccuped as you could feel scarlet chase over your features. Warming your features in an entirely different manner compared to the liquor seeping through your rational thoughts. How did bitching about furniture and boundaries turn into this as you took another sip of your drink. Was this the third or fourth, you were losing count. Your tail lashed betraying your agitation as Husk’s keen eyes didn’t budge from your sulking form. He had a point. Fucker.

A cool burst of air ran up the back of your heated neck as the front doors slammed open. Husk visibly bristled as the intruder swept past them without a single word.

“Fucking prick. Don’t he know that-”

“Shorter than I thought he would be” You snickered as you drained the whiskey in one final draught. Swiving in your chair, you waited for the entertainment to start. The fruitless attempts of watching the one-sided dance between Vox and the unfettered guards. One step to the left, another tick of a typewriter as another pair of paperboys appeared to impede the Overlord.

“FUCK” Vox snarled as his hand was bitten into as he tried to shove one of the paperboy’s back by the shoulder. A further burst of giggles slipped from your loose lips as the Overlord cradled his injured hand. FInally he spun around on his heel to witness you almost falling off the barstool as you idly waved them off from pouncing on the overlord.

“Where the fuck is Lucifer and what the fuck is with these-” Vox’s hand bled freely as the crimson droplets flew through the air. The paperboys were all but trembling with anticipation, but didn’t budge a step from the stairs as you dismissed them with a short whistle. The creatures tipped their hands before vanishing into a spontaneous black burrow. Vox connected the dots with ease as he turned to the head up the stairs once more.

“He is out. Please, Mr. Vox do not make me call reinforcements. I can write a message for him if you insist.”

The words came out fluidly if a bit clipped as your job had molded around you like a cap to a bottle. Even in your intoxicated state, the script that left your lips was without flaw. Even if your amusement of the situation was betrayed by your tiny smile taking satisfaction in the entire situation.

“And when will he come back?” Vox asked politely, almost all too sweetly. Losing patience with the word ‘no’ it seemed or anything that impeded him from getting what he wanted. An Overlord at the base. There was a click of ice and liquor as you snorted unladylike into your fresh glass.

“Do I look like I know? I can’t exactly demand the King of Hell ignore his whims.” You sighed before taking a sip of the fresh drink. The kindly bartender had even garnished it with a cherry as you fished it out of the cold glass. Evidently taking as much joy in seeing the Overlord get stifled in his own plans as you did.

“And who the fuck are you exactly?” Vox growled as you could feel the static in the edge of your skirts cling to your skin as the Overlord leaned over you. A show of intimidation as you gently returned the glass to its coaster.

“Lucifer’s secretary. Now, would you like to leave a message?” You replied sweetly as that answer seemed to deflate Vox’ temper by a hair. You weren’t affiliated with the Hotel in any capacity beyond Lucifer, which meant you weren’t affiliated with HIM. Oh, wasn’t he terribly clever as he gestured to the ragged coat.

“You’re Lucifer’s secretary, but you dress like this? Take a position at Voxtech and you’ll be flush with cash. If you play your cards right.” Vox explained as he placed an unwelcome hand on your shoulder that you were quick to brush away with a scowl. He even had the nerve to spin you back around in your chair as you faced the bar. The Overlord crowding your space without a single notion of boundaries.

“Scotch.” Vox barked at Husk, the bartender huffed at the order. He wasn’t some sort of dog that did tricks on command. The rattle of scotch decanter was all too loud as fingertips brushed over your face to make you look at the Overlord.

“Come on, what’s a little tour around the King’s office gonna do. Come on now.” Vox teased as you bit down the urge to respond with violence. Bitter ink whispered over your tongue as the Overlord’s other hand slid over your thigh. Far too close for comfort as you swallowed the bitter ink. You couldn’t fall apart now.

“I would like to keep my job. Now if you would remove your hand from my thigh. I am married..” You hissed as Vox laughed at your response.

“Married. In Hell. Hate to remind you of that, sweetheart, not sure if those sorts of vows mean anything down here.” Vox tutted as his grip on your face tightened. His request for a tour was turning into a demand as you pulled your face away from him.

“Oh, do try telling that to my husband, can’t get it through his skull. As damaged as that is.” You retorted as you removed the gloves from your hand. The brass ring on your finger caught in the light as Vox rolled his eyes.

“Besides, now why would I want to work for someone like you. Called my work a fucking puff peace followed by the apparent ‘dismissal’ of over half of Velvette’s love potion staff after sources revealed what exactly was in them. Coddled, old, semen and burnt bedspreads if I remember my wording correctly..” You hissed as if the insults were laid against you yesterday instead of all those years.

“Truth hurts doesn’t it.” You snarled as the glass in Vox’s hand shattered. Now you have sent the Overlord into a little fit. The lightbulbs behind the bar shattered as Husk protest was lost in the groaning noise of the walls. Ink trickled from the corner of your mouth as you staggered into an upright position. The drinks weren’t the best idea, but neither was running away from the irate Overlord.

“Oh, I thought I heard something pathetic.”

“You’re ALIV-E”

The glitched snarl went mute to your ears as you were hastily dragged behind the bar counter by Husk lest you become a part of the damage to the Hotel. Steel cables ripped from the walls, snapping like electric snakes as Alastor descended the stairs, green energy crackling from the microphone. The world went silent around you as bitter ink spilled fruitlessly from your lips as Husk tried to ask you a question. His ears pinning back was the last sight you had before the world went dark.

New Orleans: 1923

Jazz, cigar smoke and patrons floated about you as you narrowly avoided running into a stumbling patron as your drink’s tray rattled ominously. It would be the last straw if you dropped this tray as the expensive whiskey swayed in its protective glass as if swaying to the trumpets. Your destination is a trio of chain smoking gangsters who greeted you with a cheer as you set the drinks down. A pat on the butt and earning one dollar bill was your reward as you clutched the money to your chest. Their attention didn’t last long as a busty blonde on stage burst into another number, backed by thundering trumpets. You were quick to retreat from the table, tucking the cash into your camisole as the bartender barked further orders at you. The rest of the night was blur as you blissfully took a break to sip water tinged with lime. Alcohol didn’t agree with your mother, it wouldn’t with you. You didn’t take that chance.

Unfortunately you weren’t alone for long as a strong-looking hand flicked at the feather in your cream headband. Benson? Bronson? Regardless of the gentleman’s name, he was quick to call your attention as you forced a polite smile on your face. He was quick to press a kiss to your hand as you caught scant words over the thundering music.

A date? With him. Tonight. He had just purchased a new vehicle that he needed to take a real drive. Get its wheels muddy as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Blushing prettily you were too quick to decline with a shake of your head.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. I saw how you pocketed that cash, baby doll. I could make it worth your while.” His words were a rasp against your ear as his other hand slid up your leg. The threadbare stockings and patch jobs gave him all the information he needed to know about your financial status. Struggling, destitute, so like the select other women here willing to ply guests with other ‘offers’. Your stubborn pride made you want to kick off at the idea, but rent and bills were coming due. It was just one time, right?

“Apologies for being late, the cops are sniffing about tonight. Be a shame if Harry’s was caught out in it all.” A smooth voice broke through your thoughts as your intended suitor cursed under his breath before backing off. His quick retreat made it all the clearer that the trio wasn’t under the control of Mob Boss Gisno, but someone else entirely as you watched them scatter like a group of rats.

Further to the point there was something familiar about your eevedropper’s voice. You didn’t recognize him at all. Brown almost black hair curled neatly, deep brown eyes and taller than average stature made him almost indistinguishable. Yet it was the voice that was striking a cord in your mind.

“Ha, I'm afraid this happens often. People hear the voice, but draw a blank in person.” Your eavesdropper mused as he drained his glass of rye within a single blink of the eye. A practiced drinker it would seem as the truth forced itself to the front of your mind.

“You’re that radio host. Aren’t you? Stirred up a bit of controversy last week in response to some bluenose housewife protesting your local news taking precedence over some hacksaw politician’s newest election numbers.” You mused as the radio host’s lips curled into a faint smile. His hands raised in surrender as you laughed softly.

“Unless she is blind, she can read print like the rest of us. As difficult as some of that is to swallow these days.” You grumbled as you rolled your eyes far too often reading the morning papers. Even worse still was when the little paperboys swarmed you with the ‘true’ gossip as soon as you purchased it. Half of it was powdered sugar and the other was full of shit. As if the public needed more excitement in their lives than the present.

“Not a fan of the papers?” The host mused as he leaned forward on his hand. As if he didn’t expect to find another admirer of the media tonight, but what was he looking for then? It wasn’t going to be found at the bottom of a bottle.

“Reality has tainted my taste for fairy tales..” You muttered as you took a long drink of your water. The host chuckled before gesturing to the chaos surrounding you. Men and women in states of intoxication seeking something to hide away from the truth or some old wound.

“Now you sound like some crone. I imagine you have quite a few more years to pass through, my dear.” The host tutted as you scoffed in response. Some here could forget their troubles for the night, but it would catch up with them come morning.

“A radio host and fortune teller. What an exotic career you must lead.”

“I have the smallest amount of my mother’s talent. Besides, it’s written all over your face, you want to be anywhere else but here. New Orleans isn’t home is it?” The host prodded as you sheepishly ducked your head. No, it wasn’t. You grew up in northern New York, away from the Big Apple. After your Pa died, Mother couldn’t manage the forestry business, so she packed up her brood of kids to head to the city. Picked up the bottle too.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“No. You’re right, I arrived here a year ago. Finding my feet still it seems. Work has been harder to come by than I thought. No one wants a secretary with a mouth or unwillingness to play second fiddle to a housewife.” You muttered as bitterness coated the words. It was after the third time you impaled a handsy employer’s palm with a pen point that had soiled your reputation. Despite your quality work, no one wanted to be bit by a rabid bitch.

“When I find myself stuck, I like to look up at the stars.”

“Here, in the city? Those must be some glasses you have there.”

“No. Even been to the bayou, Miss. Stars like fire and mangroves towering around you make your problems seem all the smaller.”

“You must be a radio host with such poetic words like that. Able to make a bayou sound like a fairy tale. It can’t be that fantastical.”

“It is, if you were with the right person.”

Charming. Smooth. Able to match your sharp words with gentle persuasion. That was the first night you met Alastor in that smokey speakeasy. Him plucking topics out of you like he was fox finessing a chicken’s feathers.

“You good?”

Husker’s rough voice broke you from your trance as you hissed in discomfort when you tried to move. It felt like every single part of your body had been pricked by needles as you wiped away the trickle of ink from your lips. Husk was quick to grab you by the arm to hold you place as you tried to stand up. It was for the better as plaster crumbled from the wall behind you. You didn’t dare imagine the carnage that waited beyond the safety of the bar. Glass, plaster and other materials littered the floor in front of you as you could hear the crackle of electricity in the air.

“How long was I out?” You muttered as you tried to flex your fingers. Ignoring the prickling sensation as you forced the fatigued digits to respond.

“Bout thirty minutes. Happen often?” Husker pressed as you blinked at him once. His scoff was all the answer you needed. He knew that Sinners carried their burdens in all sorts of ways. A bit of a black out wasn’t unheard of it.

“Motherfucker!” The curse slipped from your lips as liquor bottles were smashed by an errant tentacle emerging from the wall, swiping out at glass bottles as their sticky contents rained down on your sheltering forms. Ignoring the prickle of alarm up your spine, you knocked against the ruined floor, a black burrow appeared underneath it. A furry brown arm stuck out as if waiting for paper

“I don’t have paper with me. Quick go fetch Lucifer, lest these territorial dogs wreak the entire hotel.” You hissed as the messenger gave a thumb’s up. A bark of laughter and parade of insults baited your curiosity to peer over the counter, much to Husk’s low protests.

“Getting slow on your feet old man.” Vox snarled as you couldn’t help flinch as the crackling wires snapped at Alastor’s side. Searing a hole in fabric as the radio demon retaliated by slipping a tentacle around his opponent’s legs to trip him up. It was a miracle the parlor still stood as Vox’s dismantling of the electrical system left crumbling plaster in its place, while Alastor was less than careful on where he spawned the rampaging tentacles that swung at anything in their vicinity.

You weren’t an architect, but you knew any further structural damage would send the newly rebuilt hotel crumbling. Visible relief flooded you as bright light burst in the center of the room, putting both combatants on their toes. A first several bewildered, overburdened imps with packages appeared, followed by Charlie’s shrill screech of protest as she took in the ruins about her. Vaggie beside her looked less than pleased, but by the far the biggest reaction came from Lucifer.

“Now sweetheart, what’s got you screeching like you are being bathed in boiling oil. Did you want something else from-. Oh.” Lucifer’s words trailed off as there was a sharp yelp from Vox as he was tripped up by a tentacle. Falling flat on his face much to Alastor’s joyful cackles that turned into a hiss as he was snapped at by the wires.

“MY PARLOR.” Charlie cried out as her eyes prickled with tears before lightly placing her hand against the crumbling front door. A wail escaping her as that gentle action sent the elegant panes to fragment into pieces.

“Now what happened here..” Lucifer’s voice was deathly calm as his eyes flicked to you as you carefully picked your way over from the bar wreckage. Your manicured nail jabbed in Vox’s prone form.

“He asked to speak with you.” A grumble escaped Vox as the Overlord raised his head in response, only to be stunned once more by a brick of falling plaster.

“He decided-”

“I don’t need to understand the petty feuds between Overlords. Like fucking children in a sandbox fighting over toys. I am ASKING what happened.” Lucifer hissed as he tugged you down by the collar of your coat. Oh, he was in rare form now.

“It appeared the Overlord known as Vox showed up without an appointment.” You stated bluntly as you flicked through your black book with a single brush of your fingertips. Thankfully Lucifer’s grip on your coat dropped after that. Laughter bubbled up from the King of Hell that sent ice down your spine.

“Why is it that you Sinners think you can do whatever you want here. All but ready to barge into my OFFICE without an APPOINTMENT. Has the entire hierarchy of Hell fallen within half the day I have been gone.” Lucifer snarled as he gestured to wreckage around him.

“I will say this once. Only once. Sinners don’t get to make demands in my kingdom. They make fucking appointments.” Lucifer snarled as he began to drag Vox over the rubble by the throat. What limited brain cells the Sinner had were working overtime as the Sinner forced himself to be as limp as a rabbit caught in the jaws of a lion. Even if it was painful as his screen-like face flickered colors when the Devil’s grip dragged him through sturdy stone and glass.

“He is never getting that fucking appointment if this puff piece author has anything to say about it..” You muttered under your breath as Husker chuckled at the snide comment. There was a sort of smugness about the bartender now as you both took in Alastor’s rougher shape, he hadn’t come out of the little spat unscathed. His left leg limped along as he leaned heavily on the cane as he did his best to clear the grit from his voice.

“Now, Charlie no need to fret, I’ll-”

“MY FUCKING WALL ALASTOR. Couldn’t you have taken it outside for once.” Charlie snapped as she whirled on her feet to face the dimming smile of the Radio Demon. Oh, this was going to be delightful as you and Husk posted up on the overturned bar stools as the Princess of Hell’s verbal rampage ran roughshod over the hotelier. Evidentially that section of the hotel had gone through very short lifespans as Charlie’s voice pitched in volume with each interrupting attempt from Alastor. Tears ran freely down the Princess’s face as Vaggie intervened with a clap of her hands, gently comforting her girlfriend as she pointed at the wreckage.

“Fix it.”

“Done.” Flat, direct without a single hint of sarcasm as you spied his injured wrist spasm uncomfortably as little souls began the tedious process of cleaning up.

A much calmer Lucifer returned moments later as he was quick to coddle his upset daughter. The pair were able to usher her up the half surviving portion of the main staircase as you gave a slow clap in the deafening quiet.

“Quite the show. Alastor. A day off well spent.” You announced as Alastor ran an agitated hand over his face.

“You still have half a day, don't ruin it.” Alastor hissed through clenched teeth as you nodded in agreement. Ruffled, Alastor was beyond ruffled after that little bout of combat. He was all but scolded like a disobedient guard dog by Charlie and in turn Vaggie. Were Lucifer’s words of Sinners ringing his ears now? The clear definition of Hell’s hierarchy.

Oh. This was delicious.

“A bath I think would be perfect. Do enjoy your little chores, Alastor.”

��Enjoy your bath, wife. It’s rather entertaining to see YOU play that card.” Alastor hissed as you forced a neutral expression on your face. Of all the drunken conversations he would have heard during your rants to Husk. It was that one, he had heard. The subtle deflection of your marriage to dissuade an arch rival of your ex-husband.

It was with that simple knowledge that your leg was once caught again in a bear trap. So, you had two choices, free yourself in the long painful process of prying it open or allow yourself to bleed out.

The metaphorical wound sputtered once as the back of his ring finger grazed over your hand as you stormed past him. Now you really needed that bath as you could feel guilt seep in with the sticky alcohol covering your ruined coat.

He had to have the last word in at least one situation today.

#hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #Alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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