#writing/posting at 3AM lmao

[taeloke]

Myrtel deserves to be rambled about

It seems to me like Myrtel being human is something everyone in his family knows but doesn't talk about. Like it's obvious but "forbidden" to bring up too openly. Looking over the Chapter 140 page when Tioreh mentioned mullein pills...I think she didn't mean for Nasiens to realize the truth. All she said was humans need to take them regularly as long as they're in the Fairy Realm. She didn't mention her oldest brother at all--not once in this entire chapter, even.

And when Nasiens figures it out...she looks so sad. It reminds me of the look King and Diane gave Nasiens a couple chapters ago.

Ik there's a lot to unpack in those looks, but in one part of it, they all must be worried about Myrtel. He's a part of their family, but as long as he lives in the Fairy Realm, his health may turn even worse. I'm sure none of them want to tell him he should move to Liones or somewhere else in the Human Realm for his own wellbeing, either, because what would mean saying you don't belong here. No matter how they could put it, that's how it'll feel.

I'm worried for him too. I really hope the Camelot guy who showed up at the end won't convince him of anything...but that's probably what's going to happen. They're probably gonna be the one who say you don't belong there and dig even deeper. And that cloaked mf has a chaos staff. Chances are that's going to be used...

Myrtel knows his parents loves him. He genuinely cares about the fairies and giants in the Fairy Realm. His sword-fighting skills may very well be self-taught, and he chose to learn them so he can fight for his people. But he knows he's not like any of them.

Also, remember when he warned his parents about trusting humans?

He's the one who brought up humans as a problem. Something to distrust and avoid. I wonder what that says about how he views himself. To him, is he an exception to most humans or destined to be treated exactly like them by his own adoptive siblings and parents?

I want him to stop fearing getting replaced. I want him to be happy. He deserves it. Please give King and Diane's totally-changeling son a happy ending Nakaba 🙏

[felix-lupin]

In Coraline, there’s a recurring theme with names and identity, and I personally don't think it's talked about enough. 

(As a note, this is dealing largely with the book, not the movie, although there are some hints of this theme in the movie as well)

Coraline’s neighbors constantly get her name wrong, calling her “Caroline” and not “Coraline”, to which she persistently corrects them. Despite her attempts, they never get it right, until chapter 10, in which Mr Bobo (Mr Bobinsky) finally gets it right.

"It's Coraline, Mister Bobo," said Coraline. "Not Caroline. Coraline." "Coraline," said Mr Bobo, repeating her name to himself with wonderment and respect. "Very good, Coraline."

It should be noted that, until this chapter, Coraline did not know Mr Bobo’s name either. In fact, it had never even occurred to her that he had a name. Up until then, she had just been thinking of him as “the crazy old man upstairs”, not as a person with a name. This moment, with her learning his name and him getting her name right, is a moment of genuine understanding and connection between the two, humanizing them both to each other.

Coraline’s other neighbors get her name wrong, which is representative of them not listening when she says anything, really, such as her telling Miss Spink and Forcible that her parents are missing and them literally not even acknowledging it at all??

"How are your dear mother and father?" asked Miss Spink. "Missing," said Coraline. "I haven't seen either of them since yesterday. I'm on my own. I think I've probably become a single child family." "Tell your mother that we found the Glasgow Empire press clippings we were telling her about. She seemed very interested when Miriam mentioned them to her." "She's vanished under mysterious circumstances," said Coraline, "and I believe my father has as well." "I'm afraid we'll be out all day tomorrow, Caroline lovely," said Miss Forcible. "We'll be staying with April's niece in Royal Tunbridge Wells."

Mr Bobo gets her name right after being corrected (only after being corrected alongside her using his name, mind you, showcasing her making an effort to listen to and understand him as well), which is representative of him actually making an attempt to listen and understand her. This point is further illustrated by a conversation Coraline had with the Other Mr Bobo in chapter 10.

As Coraline entered he began to talk. "Nothing's changed, little girl," he said, his voice sounding like the noise dry leaves make as they rustle across a pavement. "And what if you do everything you swore you would? What then? Nothing's changed. You'll go home. You'll be bored. You'll be ignored. No one will listen to you, not really listen to you. You're too clever and too quiet for them to understand. They don't even get your name right."

He equates those in the real world not getting Coraline’s name right with them not listening to her, and fundamentally not understanding who she is. So, somebody getting her name right, then, shows them actually listening to her, and being willing to understand who she is.

The mice in the real world know more than they should be able to know, and they also get Coraline’s name right.

"The message is this. Don't go through the door." He paused. "Does that mean anything to you?" "No," said Coraline. The old man shrugged. "They are funny, the mice. They get things wrong. They got your name wrong, you know. They kept saying Coraline. Not Caroline. Not Caroline at all."

They seem to know about the other world, somehow, on some level, and the dangers it presents. Them getting her name right represents them knowing more than they should know, more than they are told. Animals in general seem to have this type of quality in Coraline, actually.

The cat does not have a name. It says so in chapter 4, that cats do not need names. It says that this is because cats know who they are. But humans need names, because they do not.

"Please. What's your name?" Coraline asked the cat. "Look, I'm Coraline. OK?" The cat yawned softly, carefully, revealing a mouth and tongue of astounding pinkness. "Cats don't have names," it said. "No?" said Coraline. "No," said the cat. "Now, you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names."

The cat shook its head. "No," it said. "I'm not the other anything. I'm me." It tipped its head on one side; green eyes glinted. "You people are spread all over the place. Cats, on the other hand, keep ourselves together. If you see what I mean."

This shows that, in humans, names are connected to our identities and who we are. Names are used to individualize and distinguish ourselves from each other. But cats do not need names to recognize each other, or be recognized.

"Oh. It's you," she said to the black cat. "See?" said the cat. "It wasn't so hard recognising me, was it? Even without names."

With or without names, it is still the same cat.

During the Other Miss Spink and Forcible’s performance, in chapter 4, they begin quoting Shakespeare. The specific quotes that they use are interesting to me when looked at under this lens of the importance of names, especially Miss Forcible’s.

"What's in a name?" asked Miss Forcible. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"I know not how to tell thee who I am," said Miss Spink to Miss Forcible.

Now, of course, this is just them quoting Shakespeare. But. Why these quotes specifically? They’re at the very least notable when discussing Coraline’s recurring theme of names. Especially the quote about the rose. It makes me think of what the cat said earlier, about how cats are sure of who they are so they don’t need names, about how Coraline didn’t need the cat’s name to be able to recognize it for who/what it was.

But, of course, this does not apply for humans. We need our names to be able to know ourselves, to be able to tell others who they are.

In chapter 6, Coraline wakes up and is disoriented. This disorientation is compared to the feeling one might experience upon being suddenly pulled out of a daydream. In this comparison, forgetting one’s name is equated with forgetting who one is and where one is.

Sometimes Coraline would forget who she was while she was daydreaming that she was exploring the Arctic, or the Amazon rainforest, or darkest Africa, and it was not until someone tapped her on the shoulder or said her name that Coraline would come back from a million miles away with a start, and all in the fraction of a second have to remember who she was, and what her name was, and that she was even there at all. Now there was the sun on her face, and she was Coraline Jones. Yes.

The ghost children have also forgotten their names, and with it most of who they were. In chapter 7, when Coraline is locked behind the mirror in the Other World, one of the ghost children says that names are the first things that one forgets after death.

"Who are you?" whispered Coraline. "Names, names, names," said another voice, all faraway and lost. "The names are the first thing to go, after the breath has gone, and the beating of the heart. We keep our memories longer than our names. I still keep pictures in my mind of my governess on some May morning, carrying my hoop and stick, and the morning sun behind her, and all the tulips bobbing in the breeze. But I have forgotten the name of my governess, and of the tulips too." "I don't think tulips have names," said Coraline. "They're just tulips." "Perhaps," said the voice sadly. "But I have always thought that these tulips must have had names. They were red, and orange-and-red, and red-and-orange-and-yellow, like the embers in the nursery fire of a winter's evening. I remember them."

The ghost children may have their memories, but they have largely forgotten who they were. They may remember their tulips, and certain strong memories, but there is very, very little left of them, and they have forgotten who they once were, they have forgotten their names.

"That is why we could not leave here, when we died. She kept us, and she fed on us, until now we're nothing left of ourselves, only snakeskins and spider-husks. Find our secret hearts, young mistress."

"She will take your life and all you are and all you care'st for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She'll take your joy. And one day you'll awake and your heart and soul will have gone. A husk you'll be, a wisp you'll be, and a thing no more than a dream on waking, or a memory of something forgotten."

The Other Mother stole their hearts and their souls and their selves. She stole who they were away from them, their identities and names and the names of those they loved, leaving nothing in her wake.

The same ghost that talked about the tulips and the names of the tulips struggles to answer when Coraline asks their gender, as well, and when they do eventually give an answer they seem somewhat unsure of it, as shown by the word choice of “perhaps” and “I believe”

"A boy, perhaps, then," continued the one whose hand she was holding. "I believe I was once a boy." And it glowed a little more brightly in the darkness of the room behind the mirror.

(I personally take this quote, specifically it "glow[ing] a little more brightly" after coming to this conclusion, to mean either that the ghost is happy at realizing that he was once a boy, or even to mean that he has become somewhat more tangible upon this realization; upon remembering something about his self, and his identity.)

As an aside, it's noteworthy to me that we never learn the Other Mother’s true name. She is simply “The Other Mother” and “The Beldam.” Never is an actual name applied to her, only titles. We do not truly know who, or what, she is. Beings without names are shrouded in mystery (or should i say mist-ery). The ghost children are benevolent mysterious beings, the cat is an ambivalent-leaning-helpful mysterious being, and the other mother is a distinctly malevolent mysterious being.

"Who are you?" asked Coraline. "I'm your other mother," said the woman.

"She?" "The one who says she's your other mother," said the cat. "What is she?" asked Coraline. The cat did not answer, just padded through the pale mist beside Coraline.

But in conclusion, names in Coraline are extremely important. I’m sure there’s probably more that I'm missing, and feel free to add onto this, but basically—

People need names to know and remember who they are, and forgetting one’s name is the first step to losing the rest of who one is. Names humanize a person; with a name, they are less shrouded in mystery, more clear.

Knowing somebody's name helps one connect to and better understand that person; it is the first step in getting to know them and see them as a full person, the transition from “the crazy man upstairs” to “Mr Bobo”. Names, to people at least, are one of the fundamental building blocks of who we are.

[tennessoui]

it’s like baby gorl there’s no way I, the author who wrote the fic you’re commenting on and who is the intended audience for this comment, am gonna agree with you 😿🙏 some things can just stay on your chest 🙏

[gingerale13]

Magnet Yuri

I am slowly becoming a shit post account aren't I

[too0bsessedformyowngood]

Sorta a continuation of this post.

I’ve been thinking more about reverse robins AU with Duke as the Dick/Nightwing parallel, and I have some ideas.

So like, Duke came first. He was the light to Batman’s darkness. I don’t know if he would start off with Signal or another mantle and become Signal later on, but he definitely had the bright colors from the start. Batman might be the Dark Knight but Duke was Gotham’s (K)night Light. Batman fought what hid in the shadows but Signal chased the shadows away, provided a guiding light home. He was the Sunshine when the never ending grey clouds got too thick. He was Gothams hope and inspiration for a brighter future.

But don’t forget he was also a menace. I don’t think it would go down exactly like it did in the comics, it was the early years for Batman-and for the villains as well. After Duke’s parents were gone (maybe by Joker still turning them mad with Joker gas in Joker earliest year, maybe year one for him or something else) he started planning. He started working harder in school, focusing on the sciences to one day make a cure but also would go out looking for his parents, like in canon. He would stumble into things way bigger, overhearing plots from villains and mafias and decided to become an inconvenience for them. Letting the airs out of tires when no one was watching, a fire alarm pulled right before an attack, door stoppers on the outside of each door to a warehouse trapping the villains who where planning inside. A sudden strong of bad luck befalling the main terrors of Gotham. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially by Batman. Duke kept his streak of being unseen until one night he crossed paths with the Bat.

Bruce for his part would have know about the little boy who lost his parents in the attack, and it would have also brought up some memories for him as well. He would have kept a small track of him, but noticed he was in foster care so didn’t do much until one day he came across the reason behind all the karma the villain have be having. Looking into the boys eyes and seeing the same fire that he had, blazing more fierce as Duke explains how he will find his parents and save them, and if he could prevent more bad things along the way he will. Something pinging in Bruce’s soul, this kid lost his parents like he did but not fully, and he still had hope among the need for justice, something that had faded so long ago for himself. He took Duke back that day, promising that he will find Duke’s parents, and kept a closer eye on him after the fact.

Duke noticed that after that day it became like clockwork, he would sneak out, search Gotham, cause a little chaos, get caught by the Bat and brought back to his current foster home. Bruce did some digging, looked for Dukes parents but also found out that Leslie Thompkins was the person in charge of Duke’s case. After a few weeks of the new schedule he met up with Dr. Thompkins. They talked about how Duke has been bounced around from home to home and sneaking out to find his parents almost every night. After a long conversation, and not as much convincing as one would expect, Duke found himself being driven to his next foster home, Wayne Manor.

Okay I’m going to leave this here for now. I ended up writing so much more than I though I would lmao. I have more ideas and will probably continue this soon.

[yakultii]

What's the favourite photo you've taken? - they're all so nice!! 💕

awww thank you sm !! <33 tbh I don’t really find any one photo too significant as of yet, not to say they aren’t nice to have but real life moments are nicer :)

these aren’t necessarily my fav photos but could argue might be my favourite “vibes”

this one was taken with a digital point and shoot — while it may be argued objectively shitty and I’m completely aware a toddler could replicate it, I think this is why I love it. the fact that it just is what it is. the untouched scene naturally tells its own story, rather than needing to curate one yourself. I personally find it’s more than just something to look at. this stripped back style evokes more emotion for me than others and I love how the darker lighting does not dull its life. I mean this is all subjective. I personally don’t think this style is the best for every photo (or maybe it could be) but I really like when it works out. as someone who feels disconnected from my own existence a lot of the time, I like that I can live through it a little, as I believe it to be as close to a reflection of my interpretation of the society we live in as possible. while it wouldn’t really matter if this particular photo got deleted. never to be seen again, I’d never know the feeling of this particular moment, until I felt it in real life again. obviously I didn’t quite know all this when randomly taking it while bored on the train but I think that’s the only reason it turned out this way which is even more warming.

but of course, maybe more so than anything, I love my trusty film <3 point and shoot ofc — these photos alongside the header of this blog, again very little effort but somewhat significant of a story. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like when I’m able to capture a simple image that tells a story/evokes emotion (again, whether or not it portrays a story may be subjective). Especially with minimal effort, cause in my opinion if it’s perfect as is, then surely it’s worth taking a photo of. Film is more reliable to me at this point of my life, while I’m not very experienced (in any kind of photography really) I think it’s hard to fail, in fact I feel as though it almost exceeds my expectations. As someone who has never been any good at technical aspects of any form of art (or the patience to pursue them), I find film enables me to curate something to a standard of which I couldn’t ask for anything better of myself. Not to mention the process of developing etc. meaning I really have to stop and envision my image more so than with digital, which is basically an act of mindfulness (something I’m also usually very bad at). I’m pretty sure the Coca Cola photo was the first photo I ever took on film in 2020 lockdown (besides a barbie disposal I got for xmas as a kid that my parents were mad at me for quickly “wasting” and never to be developed). what I love about all these photos is that I believe I was able to zoom in on (no pun intended, because actually I didn’t) seemingly insignificant moments in life happening all around me so that they could later be recognised as something more. again, in my mind, my life feels very fragile at the best of times so I like that I can hold onto things a little longer when I’m alone. I’m so so glad film has stuck around and I hope I one day fix my favourite film camera and can take more photos like these!

again, hella subjective and have found most people I know to have very different preferences in what photos they think look and feel best, but as of right now these are mine :)

[kyouka-supremacy]

so, kyotag, your super honest opinion about bsd characters please (aka, who is your fave and who is your least fave. i promise, i am not trying to get you 'cancelled', i am just curious!) 🎤

Ever since I've gotten this ask I've been trembling, I don't think I can ever give bsd honest opinions for the sake of my own future mental sanity LMAO. The upside is, I can talk plenty of the characters I like!!

My favourite character is Kenji! For real, ahah. I'm just always drawn to characters that are just... Good. little guys only trying to do their best and be kind. I suppose there's also a factor of “that's who I want to be” that makes me like them in particular. I don't like the direction they went for Kenji's character in chapter 100.5, but really? I wasn't particularly let down by it either, like it's so fundamentally coherent with the worldview bsd expresses, if anything it was chapter 13 that was out of the scheme. I'm a professional canon ignorer at this point and I'll keep doing just that ahah.

↑ Saw this scene for the first time in the anime, went “Slay! Communist king!”, and he's been my favourite ever since lol.

Although, if we count in Beast, then my favourite character overall must be Beast Atsushi. I mean, have you seen him... Most fucked up guy ever. He went through unimaginable trauma and he still kept being so soft at his core. He just wants to live but everyone is making it so hard for him. He cares for Kyouka so much and he cares for Dazai so much and (to me) he cares for Akutagawa so much like little traumatized boy how did you manage to save all that love in you despite the Horrors. I can't put in words how much I love him but really he's the only character I can say I really sympathize with, like, I want good things to happen to him. I want him to spend the rest of his life coddled and adored.

I love all the female characters <3 I ADORE Kyouka, I think among the other female characters she's the most multilayered and complex character with a structured and compelling story arc. I think she's seriously nice, I really love this stark contrast between her sharp, cynical side and her side that is so sweet and kind and so utterly 14 y/o, and I love how these two sides aren't really in conflict but just come to be together and make her so authentically Kyouka. She's so dear to me. Also, she's the only female character who can compete with the s.kk / ss.kk four for the role of main character, so like, I'm rooting for her ahah.

I adore Yosano for self-explanatory reasons lmao. The chapters of her backstory may not be my absolute favourites for a mere matter of personal taste but I definitely think they make for the best written chapters in the whole manga. I really like how sensitive she is of others' suffering, I think she's amazing– I think her compassion is truly amazing. I want to read more stories of unapologetically compassionate characters. I also generally really really love “older sister” kind of characters!!

I love Kouyou with all I've got. I'm sorry, I genuinely think her story was this good on mistake, but still. I think her backstory makes her genuinely intriguing, I think she's extremely cool and powerful and a joy to see in action, I think toxic mother / daughter relationships are super fun to explore, I think she deserves so much more spotlight and should be back as soon as possible.

I love Mitchell lmao. Like I know it may not look like it but I truly think about her 24/7. I just love women that are kinda silly and over the top. She's got like four lines and every single one is a gem and I adore all of them. She's got those big evident flaws and they make her so human and likeable!!! She's my best friend. Not to mention how loyal she is and how much she cares about her family, I really like those traits of her. Oh, and gowns! I love love love gowns.

Okay but seriously I love all female characters. I didn't like Lucy in particular at the start but she's really grown on me and now I adore her with everything. Wells is spectacular and I need her back as soon as possible. Every woman I didn't mention, from Higuchi to Egawa, believe me I love with all my heart.

I went off a tangent I'm so sorry </3 I know you asked for one character, but how can I not mention the others??? It's just been so long for me in the fandom now and I just can't but grow attached. And I've got so much untapped love for women I never get to talk about on my silly blog that focuses on two men. Following up the list, would be Akutagawa. And I don't want to talk about him because I suppose there's no need to after having made one trillion posts about him but also can I just say? I like him for the same exact reasons I like Kenji. She's just a guy trying to be good. The difference is that he sucks so bad at it, and it makes him SO fun to explore as a character. I really have so much fun playing with him. Then would be Tachihara, Jouno...

... ........................ For the characters I like least, I suppose, R/anpo. I'm so sorry peoples. In R/anpo's case, it's just... Why do you have to be so mean and disrespectful all the time. Seriously, dude. Why is he always treating others as less than he is. I'm sorry, I really am, but I just can't help but find it displeasant? Like it takes zero energy to treat other people with common human decency, c'mon dude. At least Akutagawa is trying to do better, but everyone treats R/anpo like he's entitled to be a jerk? Idk man.

K/unikida. In his case, I Do Get why he's the way that he is (and genuinely can relate to him to an extent), it's just... For the way I am, I consider to try and forcibly impose your own ideals on other people to be about the most insulting thing you can do. And he does that a lot, with Atsushi and Dazai and everyone else. He also has this whole forced lack of empathy thing going on like... I get why he does that, and I get what he went through that made him like he is, but that doesn't change the fact you're kinda being a dick to everyone all the time dude. Please get some therapy.

That doesn't mean there aren't moments when I've genuinely liked them both and found them seriously cool!!!! I still think K/unikida is an interesting character and I genuinely get why people like him. I love the helicopter scene, I remember when I was reading the manga for the first time, when he said “no one ruins my schedule”, I was like, whaa, I was completely in awe. For R/anpo too, the Untold Origins arc from what I could see from the anime was really nice, and I also highly enjoy that one scene of his in chapter 81, the “To tell the truth, I had absolutely no assurance they'd believe me”.

Thank you for the ask Nyusa!! I hope you could find this at least a little bit interesting (?). If anything, now you know a little more about me, ahah. Also not talking about Dazai this time because really I can't be here the whole day.

[ficoandleo]

LEO, drop a Halloween costume try on stream and my life will be yours 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥

Well you'd better have your wish prepared for when you sell your soul to the little demon because Leo is live on TikTok, WickTok, and YouTube! "🎃Halloween Costume Try-On Stream!❤️‍🩹" Pretend I posted this on Halloween and not literally the next day!

Since he's streaming from his phone Leo does try and give it a minute to let the stream load and populate for all the earliest viewers, humming along to the royalty free, slightly spooky, lo-fi music he had playing in the background while wiggling around in a little half dance in front of his tripod.

"Hey, everyone! It's me!" Leo greets with a chipper wave of both hands. He laughed a little, shaking his head. "I think it'd be way more weird if it weren't me. Why do we always. . .anyways, hi!! Happy Halloween!"

The stream of comments and hearts increased, greeting him, and wishing him a happy Halloween. On Youtube he got a few Super Chats too, which he thanked the senders for. Everyone who paid a certain amount and above got their name read out, too.

"Soooo Halloween, right? I always do a little costumed stream with Sho-chan and we'd go around street parties or like we went to a zombie run two years ago that was super fun--and I hate running! Sho was carrying me by the end of that stream."

Newer viewers or people who missed it commented in amusement, some asking if anyone had a recording or highlights. A few people who had been there for the stream said that Leo got drunk on top of running from zombies and they were surprised at how much he could drink for such a small guy.

"But here in Darkwick apparently they do like an American Halloween thing. So there's kind of trick-or-treating? And I've never been trick-or-treating because we don't do that here in Japan! So I'm kinda excited to trick-or -treat and I was like. . .well, I need to have a really good costume for my first time trick-or-treating! And I ordered a bunch and they didn't get here until, like, last night because shipping stuff to Darkwick is a fucking nightmare?"

Several Darkwick students in chat agreed that it was a pain to order things to be delivered to the island. You'd think such an elite school wouldn't have these problems. Some people mentioned sending things to Leo and asking if they'd arrived yet, or saying that it took an unexpectedly long time for things to be delivered on their trackers as well.

"Yeah. . .sorry about that guys. I'm talking to them about seeing if there's a way I could, I dunno, pay extra to get some kind of faster processing for stuff people send me but. . .mail doesn't really work like that. You guys haven't been sending me perishable food or anything, right? You know better than that. Anyway.

"Everything gets here like yesterday afternoon and I'm like 'that's way too late for a whole stream,' so I decided I'd just do one this afternoon. And I wanted to do a trick-or-treating stream for you guys but the way my data works here it's hard to stream if I'm not somewhere with access to wifi. So I'm probably just gonna record it and edit it down for a VoD. Sorry!"

Everyone understands at least and tells him that they'll be looking forward to the VoD. Someone said they'd be handing out candy at their House and they hoped Leo would drop by.

"Oh! So trick-or-treating, for anyone who doesn't know, is like. Normally you go door-to-door and say 'trick or treat!' and get candy. And if you don't get candy you can play a trick. But since Darkwick's only got the dorms and the main buildings and some shops and a restaurant or two that's kinda lame, right? You'd run out of places real quick.

"So you go to different dorm rooms and trick-or-treat. And some people trick-or-treat, like, individually? Like they go up to people and say 'trick or treat' and it's kinda considered fair game. But also it's also totally fair game to be tricked instead of given a treat! It seems like a way smaller kind of event than what you might normally see in Shibuya but there's also only, like, a thousand people here. So it makes sense not to have a huge event. Especially since there's normally a school festival--they call it Samhain because they want it to have a fancy name--around now. But it got delayed."

Then Leo claps his hands and steps back from the camera a little. "But that's enough chatting! I bought a bunch of costumes to try out! I match with Sho every year, but he didn't wanna try on his costume with me and just said to bring it to him when I choose mine so. . .sorry, no Halloween Sho live this year. But I'll make sure he goes trick-or-treating with me so you can see what he gets to wear too. So! Let's check out my costume options!! Obviously I can't, y'know, change on stream but I'll step off-screen and you can entertain yourselves for a couple minutes while I get dressed! Be right back!"

With that explanation out the way, Leo waved and stepped off screen. Behind him his bean bag chairs had been given Halloween themed covers, a pumpkin, a ghost, and a skull--Monster, the red teddy bear he likes, is sat on the skull off to the side, and some of the chat greets him excitedly. He left a screen on his wall playing a little video of a chibi of him dressed in previous years' Halloween costumes popping up around the words "HAPPY HALLOWEEN"--one of the chibis was also with Sho, in a girl's costume that matched Leo's as always. Regular viewers would recognize the chibis as having had been redressed versions of the ones that played during other streams where he tries on clothes or puts together outfits. The artist was credited beneath the text.

"I can't see the chat, so don't say anything my mods would have to get on you for! I mean it~♥" Leo called from where he was changing out of sight. The chats proceeded to fill mostly with silly, non-punishable words or promises to be good among the usual chatter and cries that Leo was 'gone forever,' although a handful of people did get timed out or have messages deleted. He'd considered borrowing Romeo's fox robe and just buying accessories for each costume rather than getting whole costumes, but there was something less fun about that. Besides then he would have the hidden zipper on the back and someone could ruin his time by unzipping him. So his time spent changing was all realistic.

"Okay! Were you guys good? Did you behave for me~?" Leo's voice again came from off screen to herald his coming return. He also chimed in a shout out and thank you to the artist of his background graphic before he stepped back in sight, jangling gently with every step.

His first costume was grim reaper inspired, and he specified where he got every piece of the outfit from the hooded cloak to the red-tipped metal ribcage 'vest' around his torso and the matching clawed hand bone gloves going up his arms into his sleeves. Beneath the 'vest' his black shirt was nearly skin tight with gaps in it that opened to his pale tummy following the shape of the vertebrae in his spine, tucked into plain black pants. The belt took the role of the bones instead, chains looping into the shape of hip bones and dangling leg bones, bound behind his slim hips and legs by black-painted chain that blended in to the rest of the outfit.

"I could not find matching shoes that didn't look tacky to me." So he went with plain black boots with buckles, tapping them with his simple scythe. "Or a cool-looking scythe that wasn't plastic. So I'm not sure about this one! It feels, I dunno, incomplete. I really like the top and the ribcage though--I was thinking I could wear the glove bones as like a bracelet and rings instead, though. What do you guys think? Sho-chan would get like a little torn up white dress and some powdery makeup for the ghostly look, maybe we could get his hair in his face. . .and I got manacles and a chain for his ankles so it's like I'm leading him to the afterlife, y'know? I'd probably throw on some makeup too--give my face a skeletal look."

He posed a little bit, trying to read the stream of comments as they came in, although they were coming in pretty fast. He went on a little bit about the way it fit and felt, and complained some about the chains looking cool but getting a little tired of the clanging noise.

"Why do I always make Sho-chan crossdress? Because it's funny? And he looks good like that." He shrugged, closing the bottom of the loose cloak over his legs to see if maybe he could get away with having it partially closed. "Also let's be real, I'm not making him do anything. Sho's like twice my size. I can't make that guy do anything he doesn't wanna do.

"I did kinda think about crossdressing this year?" He says in response to another comment he kind of sees go past. "But no matter how I look at it it's just kind of boring if I do it. I mean I look like a guy who'd crossdress, right? Obviously I'd look good but that's not really the point, right?"

Understandably quite a few people disagreed and would have loved to see him in a skirt or a dress, or even a particularly feminine pair of shorts, something frilly or something sexy, even if it wasn't particularly Halloween themed. . .he smiled in amusement and ignored those comments. Maybe if he lost his next bet with Sho. For a while he continued to respond to some comments that he could catch and respond to superchats as well, and showed off parts of the reaper costume.

"Okay, gimme a few to try on the next one! Be back soon!"

This continued on for a while with Leo showing off a variety of costumes, some from popular media especially from this year, some from classic media or media that he liked, some his own takes on something more generic. He sources each piece, mentioned what he would do for his makeup in each one and how he would dress Sho to match, what he liked about each, and what didn't vibe with him. He conducted it very similarly to how he did other outfit streams, chatting with viewers in between everything, always kinder and sweeter with his words than he was in real life, laughing and smiling, but so skilled with his acting that he never seemed unnatural.

"Okay, okay! Last one! Be right back!"

Leo once again left the camera, stretching before getting to work changing out of his newest costume and into the final one. "This one's a bit more exposed and honestly I originally wasn't gonna bother with it because I was like 'it's autumn, it's gonna be cold!' but it's actually cozy enough today that I was like. . .maybe I can get away with this. It's not like exposed exposed where I might be considered indecent or something, and it's got a jacket so if I get cold I can just close it."

After a few minutes of fussing Leo returns in a somewhat simpler costume than his last ones.

"Honestly the thigh-high boots are gonna take some breaking in to be comfortable walking around in, so I was kinda thinking I could swap them out for like. Chaps?" He explained, turning around to show his back. "Cuz I have chaps. They're a couple shades lighter than the shorts. I'll show you the chaps in a minute."

The chat is moving a little too fast to read. The simple, platform, black thigh high boots are buckled closed with a line of metal clips and leave a few inches of Leo's upper-thigh exposed before the legs of the matching colored shorts end to keep his modesty. They hug his hips well enough that the studded belt is wholly unnecessary for anything but securing the inverted pentagram harness over his torso at the bottom. His torso is otherwise bare save for the oversized leather jacket hanging more off of his arms than his shoulders and a pair of somewhat low hanging chains. Without his shirt quite a few of his viewers are learning his navel and nipples are pierced. Around his neck, along with his headphones as usual, is a choker in which he's clipped his yellow Vagastrom broach.

"Honestly it's a lot of black and grey and silver." He turns around again, showing the way his wings and tail, also decorated with chains, originate from somewhere under the jacket and have some sort of wiring in them allowing him to reposition them slightly. He reached up to adjust the pair of ring-decorated horns on his head too. "I usually do more monochrome colors but it feels like too much? I kinda wanted some gold accents but it made me think too much of my house uniform. Oh, and the jacket was made by--"

He read off the name of the fan who'd sent him the jacket, repositioning it so the design on the back was visible--his own name, in a spraypainted design, the O stylized as a heart. He faced forward again. The chat hadn't slowed down by much. He had to catch up on donations--one asked if he was wearing pointed teeth, and he pulled his lips aside to show them off. Another reminded him that he mentioned possibly wearing chaps instead of the boots and he said they were right before running off to swap the boots for another pair that slightly resembled hooves the way they poked out from under the chaps.

"So for makeup I was mostly thinking I'd just make the bases of the horns blend in more. Maybe try and put some kind of marking on my stomach? That'll be hard to do myself so I might see if Romi-sama will do it for me. . . ." He ran his fingers above the hem of his shorts and around his belly button to show around where he wanted the marking. "But also maybe it'd be too busy. What do you guys think? Oh and I wanted to do, like, claw nails or rings too. I was thinking gradient dying my fingers but I don't want the color to get stuck. . . ."

Reading the chat was probably not possible at its current speed. Leo caught that people were vying for the boots or the chaps, suggestions that he wear something beneath the top harness and not just go topless, people who preferred a previous costume. . .he fiddled with the tail again, wrapping it around his leg then bending his leg at the knee to see if it'd be comfortable to walk that way. He continued to give special attention to superchats and donations with comments, as they were the only thing he could really read.

"Oh, Sho? I can't choose between a nun costume and a succubus for him to match me. I'll see what we decide on when we go out. . .probably have to go with the nun since his outfit probably wouldn't cover enough and we might end up in trouble." Leo muses, pausing while eying the camera. "Aaand as I say that he's texting me."

Leo comes closer to the camera, checking his texts with his lips parted in focus, inadvertantly showing his false fangs. The comments enjoy this closeup as much as one would expect. "Yep, he's on his way back. And I've got clothes all over my room! Okay, I've gotta clean this up and start getting ready! Sorry I gotta cut it like this, guys! I'll make up for it with a longer stream another time, okay?"

Leo starts to go over his stream schedule for the coming week and gives an estimate for when the trick-or-treating video will be out, although he admits he doesn't know how long they'll be out or just how much will be worth sharing in the first place so editing it down could take more or less time. He thanks his top donors and his chat mods, and everybody for coming and supporting him, and he tells the others at Darkwick he hopes he'll see them when he and Sho go out.

Finally, he signs out as he always does, smiling brightly and making a heart with his fingers, telling his viewers he loves them and will see them again soon.

[upsidedowngrass]

hi. heres chapter 1 of a fic where owen goes on an online forum to ask for help finding out what happened to liam :)

[edotfightme]

Do Sinners Belong In Heaven?

In which Alastor makes different choices and faces new consequences, ones he never really faced before.

This little thing is something I came up with during the Hazbin Hotel season 1 finale. Idk why I came up with it but I did. As usual I’ll be noting down the warnings.

Major Character Death

Blood and Gore

Introspection

War

Self sacrifice

Idk how y’all will like the ending

Featuring my bible headcannons that will probably get their own fic soon lmao.

Btw I am willing to bet that everyone has written this before lmao let’s go!

——<>——

Hell was quiet for a change. Millions of sinners and demons holding their breath for the fight of the… there would be no good term to describe what was taking place on those forsaken grounds. Angels and demons conflicting in a way that was never seen before. Hell would not be entertainment tonight, angelic blood would be shed and the sinners would take their pound of flesh.

That was the thought that comforted him the most as he prepared for the fight of his life.

Crimson eyes were locked on his opponent, that annoyingly arrogant angel. The first man, the second to doom humanity to a life outside of Eden.

Adam.

In all honesty, watching said angel destroy his force field with a single punch was daunting. He was not a fool, he knew just how strong a being like him would be. Facing him would be like facing Lucifer in combat.

Alastor’s smile turned into more of a grimace as he glared at his new opponent. If he could, he’d snarl, but that would be weak. He was not a weak man in life, nor was he a weak demon in the afterlife.

The angel alighted on the hotel’s signature sign, crouched and just as ready for combat as the radio demon felt. As a leader in hell’s entertainment, Alastor felt like he simply had to get out a few witty one liners.

“Adam!” He greeted, eyes locked on the angel and noticing every little detail. As he called his name, he saw his wings flex and his head raise in a form of confusion. “First man, next to die!”

Alastor could’ve laughed at his own joke, would’ve if this conflict hadn’t been so serious. A lot was at stake here.

“Who the fuck are you?” It continued to surprise the demon that angels could get away with being so crass. Was it just because Adam was god’s favourite?

Well, no need to keep his unwelcome guest waiting. “Alastor!” He lowered himself into a bow, “pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure.” And with a flourish, he slammed his cane into the ground. Alastor relished in the feeling of magic curling at his beck and call. Lightning crackled and sparked, lancing around like green bolts of death as tentacles rose up to answer his demands. If there was one thing he loved most about hell, it was the power it granted him.

“Nice voice, don’t you know jazz is for pussies!” Adam’s weapon was drawn and the fight began.

Shamefully enough, the fight was a blur. The focus he had to hold over his creations was nothing to scoff at, no matter how easy he made it look. His mouth moved in reaction to the angel’s quips as his mind was far away. Shards of his mind in each attack as he flung everything in his arsenal at the angel. His body was on autopilot, only coming back to himself to dodge and duck under stray swipes. The constant shattering and mending of his mind had been a labor of love, driving most who tried it insane, but that dedication only served to make him more deadly. And if a few screws had to stay loose to make things easier, that was for him to know.

“You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate.”

He heard that statement of his clearly, his own focus and thoughts in his shadow as he struck the first man in the chin. The fight was going well, so maybe he could have a bit of fun with it.

He pulled himself in, gently stitching his mind together as he leapt forward and taunted Adam. Alastor enjoyed himself as he ducked and dodged under the angel’s axe. He had him desperate.

“And worst-“ he unraveled again, slicing his mind apart with careful precision as he summoned multitudes of minions to rain hell on Adam “- you’re sloppy.”

It was difficult to manage so much at once, as well as keeping tabs on Adam’s movements in relation to his body. He had so many perspectives of the battlefield, and only one of them really mattered. He held himself up- he ran forward- he lashed- an axe cleaved through him- he jumped- he- who- too much!

He pulled himself in again. Not as much as before, but enough that he wasn’t so scattered. Alastor wrapped a tentacle around Adam, grateful that the conflict of his own thoughts never managed to interrupt the battle against the angel. His strength was too great for that.

He threw Adam into the sign, keeping careful focus on being able to move his true body if he needed to. The exorcist reared up for a strike, his words lost to Alastor. Alastor brought spare limbs up to block, confident that he-

His mind screeched as he slammed into himself, only years of practice allowing himself to slot everything in place correctly without destroying his entire identity. He glanced around himself, staring at the roof of the hotel that was a lot closer to him than it should’ve been.

“What just happened?” Alastor asked himself with thinly veiled alarm. His alarm increased tenfold as he spoke.

What happened to his voice? Where was the crackle of the radio? What happened? He blocked the strike so why did things go wrong-

Alastor’s gaze dropped to the broken staff in his hands. “Fuck.” He’d used the wrong limbs. Scattering his mind so much never went well, and he’d gotten careless. His strength was in his staff and without it he was-

Light flashed across his chest, making the radio demon cry out in pain. He felt his flesh sizzle under the holy power, the force of the attack sending him into the wall. Alastor groaned, blindly reaching for his staff as he pulled himself together. He was fortunate enough that he still had one trick up his sleeve. The first thing he had by his side upon landing in hell, before even his staff.

His body responded as his mind searched for a safe spot to retreat. He narrowed his focus on one of the many empty rooms of the hotel. By a window so he could make a second emergency escape, while also keeping his eye on the battle. Perfect.

“- but it is ending this broadcast…”

He pulled himself through, finally stitching his mind together once and for all. Immediately, pain crashed into his senses. He keened, low and horrifically animalistic as he hunched over himself.

“Fffffuuuuuck.” He whined, reaching for something that could possibly help. He’d never been struck with a holy weapon before, and he never wanted to be hit again. This was worse than torture.

At least he’d managed to land hits on that demented exterminator. He could at least trust that the people of hell would defeat that insufferable angel.

He gave another ungodly screech as the pain flared again. His hand landed on something soft and he got to work securing whatever it was around his wound. The jagged cut turned his suit crimson, and he winced at the knowledge that it would stain. What a hassle.

Battle raged on outside as he tended to his injury. As the pain finally began to ebb he blinked in mild surprise. Somehow, he had ended up in a bathroom. The object he had just bandaged around him was a black towel.

“Well that was a rather fortunate coincidence,” He muttered to himself. He coughed a few times, unsuccessful in bringing his voice back to normal.

He couldn’t go out there without it. Without his signature cane and his voice he was-

A crash sounded outside, making Alastor jump. He hastily scrambled to his feet, running into the main hotel room in time to watch an angel fly past. The angel was grinning.

Not very many people had the discipline he did. If the angels were loosing then they would frown.

The radio host slid towards the window, peering down at the battlefield below. Even from what he guessed was 12 stories up, things weren’t looking good. Charlie and Vaggie were occupied. The cannibals and the other hotel staff were being slowly overrun. Adam was still holding his own.

He twitched.

There was an angel aiming at Charlie Morningstar.

His claws scrapped against the glass as he watched the little brat level their spear at the princess of hell. The holy weapon was positioned well, and by how the battle was flowing.

Little Miss Morningstar was going to find a hole in her chest in just a few moments.

The deal burned in his very soul, marking his charge with a knowledge he both coveted and cursed. He knew exactly where she was at any given moment, and how much danger she was in. It was this unfortunate knowledge that told him he needed to act.

It was something else that made him want to act.

White hot rage coursed through him as he focused his mind. It took less effort than usual to split himself into his shadow and drag himself to face the wretched exorcist.

He drew his secret weapon from his coat, launching himself forward to strike his opponent. The angel was caught off guard, hastily readjusting to meet him. His holy dagger found his target first, sinking deep into the exterminator’s chest. That dagger had seen the flesh of overlords in the past, it was fitting enough that it should find angelic blood as well.

Gold leaked down his hands, no doubt staining his gloves. Alastor stepped back, prepared to vanish once again to the safety of the hotel room-

He was stuck.

Peculiarly, he was stuck.

The injury he sustained from Adam seemed to be getting worse as well, so he chanced a quick glance at his predicament.

“… Oh…” his voice still sounded off, though that in part may be due to the spear sticking out of his gut.

The odd calm that had briefly overcame him vanished, replaced with an emotion that was nearly crippling. He screeched as pain filled him, worse than before. He barely managed to pull himself to a more secluded spot of the battlefield. Snapping a piece of his mind free from the pain did nothing to alleviate it. His strength fled abruptly, his body collapsing beneath him as he crumbled to the ground.

Alastor gasped, hands shaking as he touched the weapon still protruding from his stomach. Someone was laughing in the distance, their haunting cackle somehow tuning out the sound of the battle. His eyes flicked to every little thing he could see. His crimson blood hitting the ground where he knelt, the soft glow of both the spear and his own knife, the scorched battlefield around him. All of it painted the image of the last things he would ever see.

The laughter stopped, the world was silent. Was he the one laughing? Did it matter?

He was dying.

Death was a strange concept for Alastor to grasp. Before, death looked like his mother. Old and gray, lying on her deathbed with his hand in hers. She had smiled at him, with tears in her eyes, and made him promise something that stuck to his very soul.

“Please, Alastor, my baby boy. Please, never stop smiling”

Then, death looked like countless victims. People who didn’t deserve their lives. Screams and pleas filled the air as he raised his knife with the accuracy of a man making it his profession.

“PLEASE, SIR! PLEASE HAVE MERCY!”

Strangely enough, Death’s next face was invisible to him. Humming in the woods as he dug a grave for his latest victim. The snap of a twig reaching his ears, causing him to stand up straight and alert. A loud noise, and the world changed around him.

“What just happened?”

Death’s new face bore down on him. The first man, Adam, and his axe. He’d died once before, he’d seen many people die. This time seemed different though. His heart was racing, making more blood leak out of him. His eyes kept darting around and his mind just wanted an out. It felt as though his life was flashing before his eyes. It felt like-

His gaze cause a piece of glass, clear enough that he could see his reflection. Clear enough that he could see the fear in his eyes.

Fear. Dying felt like fear.

His smile remained, but everything inside went still. For the first time in either life, he was being faced with his mortality.

Raged filled him once more. He would not fall like this, not as some self-sacrificing idiot too weak to live. That was not who he built himself to be. He was Alastor, the Radio Demon. Renowned for broadcasting the screams of his victims across hell. Sinners feared him!

If he died like this, he was just Alastor. He was just some weak sinner who failed to do his job. His reputation would be in the toilet!

Alastor dragged himself to his feet, hissing in pain. It took everything in him not to drop his smile could he drop his smile. He started shambling forward, frantic eyes searching for an out. Medical supplies, some sort of mythical healer maybe? Demons and magic existed, so it stands to reason that healers did too. The battle behind him was ignored as he tried to put one foot in front of the other.

He had to make it out alive. He had things to do. He had lives to ruin! He had to- he had to…

The fight left as quickly as it came, the pain quickly becoming to much. He landed on his side with a grunt, the spear shifting in his chest. He stared at it, thinking.

He was dying. The great Alastor was dying, for his friends. What would they call him once they found out? Heroic? A martyr? Altruistic?

His laugh was subdued this time, the mania from earlier bled away with most of his lifeforce. All that was left was a wet chuckle. Altruistic Alastor, died for his friends.

Somehow he felt a little less resentment at that.

He sat up once again, filled with something else now. Acceptance? He placed a hand on the protruding weapon, finally tuning back into the sounds of war. He figured they’d do just fine without him.

For once, he probably overstayed his welcome.

“You’re never fully dressed without a smile…”

Later on, someone would find him with a spear and a broken staff clutched in his hands. His smile was softer in death, strangely kinder with his eyes closed. There were three lives lost in the Hazbin Hotel.

——<>——

Most people don’t wake up after dying twice. Most people aren’t Alastor.

When he pulled himself to his feet, he felt off. The first thing he did was check his wounds. Miraculously, they had vanished. He felt like the fresh sinners he watched on occasion, checking themselves over a panicking.

Alastor refused to panic. He’d done enough of that for a lifetime.

The second thing he did was check his surroundings. The world was shrouded in a dense fog, strangely bright and dark at once. Chills ran down his spine as he spun around. He felt a million eyes on him at once.

“Hmm? A visitor?”

Alastor hadn’t lived nearly a century in hell for his reflexes to be slow. He turned on a dime, reaching for his holy dagger so he could face his new opponent. His death was still fresh in his mind.

Instead he was faced with a man. A seemingly regular human man, maybe Jewish in decent. He wasn’t anything special. His skin had a desert tan while his brown eyes twinkled on his wrinkled face, full of smile lines. A full brown beard, partnered with brown hair, completed the look. He only looked like he was in his late fourties, early fifties.

Something deep inside the demon, something ancient and feral, warned him that whatever the man was, it was old.

Alastor found himself pausing, having to take a second to remember his manners. “Ah, pardon me. My name is Alastor. And who might you be?”

“I am Joseph, I have been watching this place for a very long time. Not many come here, you are one of the first in a while now.” Now that he was listening properly, Joseph’s voice was as kind as his eyes. Forgiving, in a way.

“What is this place exactly?” Alastor inquired, “to me it just seems like a place of nothing.”

Joseph laughed, and even then he sounded kind. “I suppose you could call it that. I would prefer to say this place is a crossroads of sorts. Somewhere where even nothing could be something, given that nothing wants to be something.”

And despite that description, it only left Alastor confused. Where exactly were they?

“You’re getting confused,” Joseph pointed out out keenly, “Why don’t you walk with me? I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Alastor fell into step beside the strange man, still running through the answer in his head. A crossroads where nothing could be something, what a strange answer for strange man.

“I suppose I’ll start with how you are here,” Joseph began, “simply put, you died.”

“I gathered that,” Alastor grumbled dryly.

“While you died quite selflessly, protecting your friends and charge from certain death, there are complications. On one hand, if you had let them die then you would have been freed from your debts. You didn’t have to save Charlie Morningstar, but in doing so you died a hero’s death. Well done.” Joseph talked about his death so candidly, as though he were talking about the weather. It felt like Alastor should be offended, but his voice was too calming for that.

“On the other hand, your repertoire of crimes proceeds you. Hundreds of murders can be attributed to you directly, and that isn’t taking into account the souls you enslaved. One good deed doesn’t erase the suffering of many, you know?” Their surroundings changed. Now they were standing in a room, pure white other than two doors.

One door was blue, golden lettering sketching out the destination. The other was black, red details describing the fate of those who entered in one word.

“And so, I stand before you to offer you the choice,” Joseph continued talking, possibly ignoring Alastor’s whirling mind, “which afterlife do you believe suits you now? Heaven, or Hell?”

Heaven or Hell.

It’s a question people ask themselves when they are alive. They tell themselves their answer and move on. When you’re dead, you don’t get to choose.

“You want me to choose where I belong?” Alastor asked, looking at the man incredulously. What on earth was his goal?

“Yes. I only want you to pick a door and walk through it. It shouldn’t be hard.” Joseph’s patient smile was getting to the point of unnerving.

Alastor stepped back, “This is ridiculous. Only an utter buffoon would choose to go to hell.”

“Then have you made your choice?”

Alastor sent a withering glare at the man. When he looked thoroughly chastised, the demon began to pace.

Heaven or Hell.

A simple question. Heaven is the best answer. Everyone wants to go to heaven. The kindest, greatest people end up in heaven. It is a luxury that is unmatched by anything on earth or below it.

Hell is the worst answer. Hell is a fight for survival. It is drugs and depravity and demons clashing for power. Hell is the place he was trapped in for almost a century.

Hell was a hotel where a little maid cleaned. Hell was a place where a cat tended a bar, chatting away to a spider with a smile on their lips. Hell was a place where a snake spoke to a girl with a nervous smile. Hell was a place where a disgraced angel and a demon found love. Hell was a place where a radio host would tease his rival without a care in the world.

Hell was a hotel, and hell was a little less hellish than the world made it out to be.

“I would like to say that certain doors come with certain constraints. If we let you back to hell with everything intact, things could go bad fast. To make things easier you wouldn’t remember this, nor would you remember your previous life in hell. Everything would be reset to zero. No souls to own, no deals to uphold, and no power to your name. You would just be Alastor, practically a new sinner,” Joseph’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Just Alastor. Would anyone have “just Alastor”?

Charlie would. She’d probably pluck him right off the street. She’d take him to the hotel and reintroduce him to everyone. She’d get Rosie and he’d end up befriending her again. Husk would hate him at first but eventually he’d probably worm his way into people’s hearts. His early days self was charismatic without the reputation.

He stepped towards the door, the decision clear. However, just before he stepped through he paused.

“You aren’t just Joseph, are you?”

The man laughed, “I suppose you’re correct. The stories didn’t to me much justice when I was mortal. Though that was on purpose.”

“Hmm. Well your ‘first man’ was a bit of a dick.”

That earned him a chuckle, and he took it. He pushed the door open, prepared for the memoryless future waiting for him.

——<>——

The door clicked, finally startling the inhabitants of the room into action. The eldest grabbed her younger by the arm, tugging her towards herself. The redeemed sinner turned around, frill flying upwards into a threat display, his mind still spinning from the events of earlier.

An angel stepped into the office.

His coat was a brilliant pure white, complementing his mostly monochrome colour scheme. Light gray skin worked well with darker gray pants, bow tie making a nice touch. A blue vest slightly peaked from beneath the coat, decorating the whole outfit with golden clasps, buttons, and glasses. Silver hair was adorned with a crown of ebony antlers, perfectly framing pale blue eyes that scanned the room.

As the angel left the safety of the doorway, Sir Pentious couldn’t help but look at the splendor that was this angel’s wings. Large and white, they were something to behold.

That and the cane the mystery angel held in a death grip. He’d see a cane too similar to it in hell for it to be some strange coincidence.

“Alastor?” He hissed, catching the angel’s attention.

Sir Pentious heard one of the Seraphim behind him squeal, the other one muttering a prayer under her breath. He ignored them in favor of the seemingly redeemed radio demon in front of him.

“… I am not supposed to be here.”

——<>——

If you made it to the end, well done! I used the redeemed Alastor found on @hazbinmo-tel ‘s blog.

Check it out there tbh, I didn’t draw it. Don’t like me for the artwork, like me for the writing. I did that. Anyways the Bible headcannons are me. I will definitely do a sequel! I mean, someone like Alastor can’t have just gotten into heaven without strings attached right?

… Right?

[asummersday]

sigh

[nanatsuyu]

this is a complete no pressure ask BUT. i need you to know i think of this snippet you posted on Twitter ages ago all the time. (https://x.com/nanatsuyu/status/1689395509264351232?s=46&t=RrUocKZoiPz3_Gj72p4WXg) and im just double checking it’s not something you posted and i missed? i don’t think so but i thought u would like to be know someone’s thinking of it…… if it ever gets posted i will be on cloud nine but AGAIN no pressure it’s just sooooo lovely

oh my goD i completely forgot about this fic?? it's from an au i have where they live together and kevin goes out on dating app dates a lot and usually comes home in a bad mood after bad head and andrew fixes that for him because how could he not <3 lmao

thank you for telling me ;; it is nice to know someone's thinking of it ;; <3 considering i've been writing A Lot of kandrew lately, i might ride the high and polish this off soon,,

(for those that may want to peek at it but dont wanna copy paste links, wip under the cut)

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

Hiya Middy! Long time no see!! I hope life has been kind to you 💜💜💜

lol we're thinking on the same wavelength today @coldshrugs 😂 :>

anyway. This was supposed to be a snippet. It...did not end up being a snippet omg, it really got away from me kdlfhgjkfdhgk. It's 3:40 in the morning and this is the first piece I've (more or less) finished in like 3 or 4 months. It's just under 1,300 words. Set a few weeks after the big Endwalker finale, so vague mentions of what happened there.

[prompt meme]

nascent hope & new beginnings

The uneven rhythm of O’ravi’s cane tapping on the cobblestone announces her presence before she emerges from the early morning fog that blankets Sharlayan, and Aymeric sets aside the report he was reading, its contents immediately forgotten.

She’s starting to look like herself again, a clarity in her eyes now that’s been absent since her return from Ultima Thule. The silver and teal shawl she’s wrapped around her shoulders clashes somewhat oddly with the dark red tunic dress she wears, which in turn contrasts with the royal blue ribbon that holds her hair in a loose ponytail. It’s a far cry from the well-coordinated outfits she wears for business and battle, but it suits her.

O’ravi smiles, a little lopsidedly, a little shyly, and waves. “Hey.”

“Good morning, Ravi.” He can’t help it—he runs to meet her, and offers his arm. “You’re up early.”

“The pain was too great to stay in bed. So I thought I might as well seek you out, enjoy the fresh air.” She moves to link her arm through his but pauses, a strange look on her face. Instead, she reaches up to grasp his collar and tugs.

Wordlessly, and with no small amount of confusion, he acquiesces to her wish and leans down.

And softly, sweetly, feather-lightly, she presses a kiss to his lips.

She withdraws before he realizes what happened, content. His heart lurches like a wounded animal within his chest, his breath suddenly shaky, and she winds her arm through his as if she didn’t just send him reeling.

He can’t bear to look at her, he can’t bear to look away. The kiss in Ala Mhigo, before she set out for Garlemald—when she’d kissed him like her survival depended on it only to flee for the airship. That was moons ago, and they’d not spoken of it yet. It was never the right time.

Now, this. Against all the odds she defeated Meteion and Zenos and made it home alive, and she could’ve gone to anyone—could’ve sought out anyone she wished—but she chose to be here. With him.

Halone have mercy.

They walk together down the garden path back to the pavilion. Her gait is unsteady and torpid, but between him and the cane she’s at no risk of falling. It frustrates and distresses her to be so robbed of strength, but he’s just glad to see her up and about and alive. Safe, and free.

There’s a chill on the breeze, carrying the promise of snow and the memory of home. The long walks they took through the Pillars on the eve of battles she didn’t believe she’d return from. He lays a hand over hers, letting her clammy hands soak up his warmth. Soon, they’d go home together, and never again would she need to leave fearing what fate awaited her in far-off lands. Not if he had anything to say about it.

They make their way to the bench where Aymeric left the report, and O’ravi attempts to fold her legs beneath her only to cringe and hiss when the motion aggravates some half-dozen different wounds.

“Careful,” Aymeric says, settling down beside her.

“It never gets easier.” She leans the handle of her cane into the corner of the pavilion wall, careful not to knock it over lest its clattering disrupt the morning quiet. Her tail swishes placidly as she shifts to close the distance between them, ensuring that her arm rests against his and her leg likewise touches his.

He raises his hand slightly in silent offering; without hesitation, she twines her fingers through his.

“Aymeric,” she says, so softly it’s almost a whisper, “what do you think happens now that the Final Days are over? No more Ascians, no more Garlean expansionism, no more Hydaelyn and Zodiark…”

“Years of rebuilding, to start with. No nation was spared the destruction the blasphemies and towers wrought—in every corner of the world, entire communities were wiped out, the population slaughtered or turned, to say nothing of the state of Garlemald. We must needs—”

O’ravi laughs. “No, no, no, I meant: duty and the wider world be damned, what do you want for your future?”

Ah.

He blinks stupidly, trying to cobble together an answer. “I’ve not put much thought into it, to tell you the truth.”

In truth, that is a flat-out lie. Of course he’s thought about it. But what he wants, what he longs for above all else—he cannot ask that of her. What if the request hurts her? And, perhaps it’s selfish, but what if her answer hurts him? Their friendship is too important to take the risk. No, he will hold his tongue.

“You don’t have to have it all figured out right now,” she says, and while her smile is tender there’s a knowing look in her eye that he can’t withstand. “Just think about it for a while.”

He never has been good at lying to her. His one consolation is that she’s just as bad at lying to him.

“What of you? The world is yours now, your life is your own again. What will you do with it?”

“Well.” She straightens her spine, ears twitching excitedly, and her smile takes on a mischievous edge. “After all I’ve done, I have more than earned the right to live as I see fit. I’ve earned the right to put duty and responsibility and reputation aside—and I know someone else who has earned the same.”

“We do owe much to your fellow Scions and Warriors of Light.”

“No, Aymeric, I mean you.” She takes his other hand in her own and squeezes. “The future is ours now. Ours to shape, ours to live. After all we’ve bled and suffered and sacrificed, we need to do something for ourselves. Just this much at least.” She leans towards him, and he has no choice but to meet her gaze. “You give and you give and you give of yourself until you have nothing left. The world takes and it never gives back, and before you know it you’ve lost yourself. I know this is happening to you because it happened to me, too. You have to draw a line in the sand somewhere and say, this is mine, this belongs to me, and the world can’t touch it. Aymeric, may I tell you what I want for the future?”

The light is glinting off the gold veins that mar her eyes. Her sincerity is painful to behold.

“Of course.”

“I want you to find yourself again. I want to find me again…and I want us to do it together. I want us to walk into the future together, hand in hand, side by side. Whatever paths we walk going forward, I want us to walk them together until the end of our days.”

“I…”

By the Fury, how is he supposed to answer that? How is he meant to—?

His heart is racing, and she’s watching him with such an innocence, a kindness that’s driving him mad.

Her wish answers the question he couldn’t voice. Yet it still leaves some things up in the air, namely: will they continue to keep a distance between them? Pretend Ala Mhigo never happened and remain friends and naught more?

A deeply foolish thought—he knows what the answer to that is, even if he won’t admit it—but nonetheless…

O’ravi raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “What say you, my brilliant blue knight?” His thoughts are spinning too rapidly to be trusted now, so despite the fact he’ll likely regret it later, he follows the impulse of his heart and kisses the scar that cuts across the bridge of her nose. Let that be answer enough.

[iholli]

glowing eyes, threatening words

[cowlovely]

people who read fic but don’t write it piss me off soooooo much sometimes

[godzexperiment]

//Is it wrong that I think Saima and Nix are cute together? I mean as friends for right now but maybe something more too. I mean stargazing together? That's so cute. Even if they're only friends

Nah. I agree it's an cute dynamic, it's been fun writing their interactions as much Nix's behavior is usually chaotic+face palm inducing. Definitely could be an really neat friendship or other possible dynamics. The stargazing is definitely an cute, nice interaction just in general. (nix very much believes in it as an nice activity that's chill and fun to do with the right company in various ways likely in most dynamics he at least once is like 'let's look at the stars together' for the atmosphere of it)