#cruelty overture | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

krscblw · 8 months

Text

ghoul perfume associations!

i am very into ghost. and i am also very into indie perfumes! so i decided to combine the two and make a list of my scent associations for each of the ghouls, as well as a few indie fragrances that fit them (in my opinion! if y'all have other thoughts i would LOVE to hear them /gen)

i also included all of the perfumes i found that had the same names as the ghouls, even if i didn't think the scent profile worked, and bonus atmospherics that i think are more naturally ghoul-ish and worked well for the various elements!

warning: this is an obscenely long post. i have too many thoughts.

another warning: because this post is so long, some of the text might get cut off on mobile. it should be okay on desktop if that happens (i don't know how to fix it, sorry)

Aeon

Notes: chocolate, linen, lavender. Aeon smells very gentle and pleasant, but not necessarily sweet. He smells like things that he himself finds comfort in.

Perfumes:

Chocolatine -- Fyrinnae

“Also known as Pain au Chocolat, these flaky croissant-like pastries are filled with pieces of dark or semi-sweet chocolate. This is not a very sweet fragrance.”

TELEGRAMA – Imaginary Authors

talc, lavender absolute, black pepper, teak, amyris, vanilla powder, fresh linens

Bonus:

Phantom -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

Aether

Notes: bourbon, amber, vanilla. Aether smells sophisticated, but with a warm, golden edge. He smells like comfort, like unconditional love- but also a little bit like sex.

Perfumes:

Quintessence of Debauchery -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A distillation of raw, bawdy sexiness without regard for gender - Bourbon vanilla, tonka, dark florals, peach brandy, coriander, mock orange, spiced pumpkin, fresh ginger root, rock rose, long leaf tobacco, black opium infused amber, patchouli, oakmoss, and cruelty-free (vegan) castoreum.”

Morosexual -- Treading Water Perfume

“Morosexual - The sexual attraction to stupid people. Treat yourself and read your partner at the same time with a scent that is as classy as it is stupid. The earthy combo of vanilla, fresh tobacco and star anise combine with spicy nutmeg to create a warm soft blanket to dull the mind.”

tobacco, vanilla, patchouli, jasmine, star anise, nutmeg

Alpha

Notes: leather, smoke, gunpowder. Alpha smells.. off-putting, to most people. He has an intense personality, and it's reflected in his scent.

Perfumes:

Industrial Sabotage -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A cataclysmic wreckage of burnt wires; twisted melted steel; shattered machinery, and gunpowder.”

Night Shift -- PULP Fragrance

“Black frankincense, engine grease from a long late shift, smoke, ash, blackened wood, and a hint of leather.”

Cirrus

Notes: dark fruits, musk. Cirrus smells sophisticated in a dark, sensual way. She smells.. hypnotic, almost. She smells like you want her, but she doesn't even know you exist.

Perfumes:

Venus Black -- Possets

“A grand and very very sensual scent. Black in the most sophisticated way. Considered one of the colors, its working name was Mars' Black but it is so wonderfully feminine that there is no way that it could be named after the god of war, it should be named after the goddess of love. The Blackest musk flirts with a float of black pepper, a shot of dark sweet pear, and the smallest amount of sage and non-stinky narcissus for tingle. One not to be missed. Dry, musky, spicy.”

(i have this one. it's VERY attractive (i had to stop wearing it because i was confusing myself lmao) and now that i associate it with cirrus. i might have a problem)

Salomé -- Alkemia Perfumes

“An overture of not so innocent magnolia underscored with a sly caress of Queen of the Night, a fulsomeness of nubile black grapes and plums, skin musk bathed in spilled cognac, and ruthless twist of bitter orange, blended with an ancient Arabian love philtre of crushed vanilla and tonka bean, sandalwood, vetiver, cedar, and red oud.”

Bonus:

Cirrus -- Osmofolia

Cumulus

Notes: lilac, magnolia, jasmine, sugar. Cumulus smells sweet and cloying. You smell her once and the scent haunts you all day like the most enchanting ghost.

Perfumes:

Alabama -- Possets

“Floral perfume lovers rejoice! This one is the essence of a hot sticky Southern night at the height of passion with the one you love. What a treat! Alabama weaves pink fizzy mimosa, thick white magnolia, canebrake jasmine, Mexican tuberose, and Martinique gardenia. The effect is eternally woman, unabashedly sexy, and in command. These are all knit together with precious Sacred Frankincense to concoct a bombshell of a fragrance, deep white floral with deep incense leanings. A hypnotic fragrance. So very sweet, so very profound. Feminine, floral, devastating.”

Sweet Mother -- Little And Grim

“‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave --/ slender Aphrodite has overcome me/ with longing for a girl.’ -Sappho. Notes of lush moss, blooming lilac, French lavender, rose, jasmine, mandarin and lemon zest, warm musk, and lily of the valley.”

Bonus:

Cumulus -- Osmofolia

Skiing On Europa -- Fyrinnae

“The atmosphere of a distant moon, not as habitable for mammals as Earth, the thin air reminiscent of high mountain elevations before snowfall. Cold, and ozonic like petrichor.”

Dewdrop

Notes: berries, smoke, wood. Dew smells like resinous woodsmoke, with an unexpected berry undertone. (Just like his personality: brash outside, sweet inside.)

Perfumes:

Ignis -- PULP Fragrance

“Raspberries, fresh ginger, smoky aloeswood, pale blond tobacco leaves & fiery red musk.”

A CITY ON FIRE – Imaginary Authors

“The refined smoke accord makes this an austere and luxurious scent for evenings on the town, whether with a special someone or alone and looking for trouble.”

cade oil, spikenard, cardamom, clearwood, dark berries, labdanum, burnt match

Bonus:

The Center of the Universe -- Alkemia Perfumes

“The center of our universe is raspberries and rum? In a vast dust cloud at the center of the Milky Way there is an abundance of ethyl formate, a simple aliphatic ester found in the smell of rum and raspberries. To these elements, we've added notes from astronauts' descriptions of the smell of their suits when they return from space walks - freshly welded metal, gun powder, seared steak in an iron pan, burnt almond cookies, charcoal, and ozone.”

Ifrit

Notes: black tea, incense. Ifrit smells heavy and dark in a way that makes you want more. Very mysterious, even though his personality doesn't really match.

Perfumes:

Black Tea -- Possets

“The most dark and the most tannic of teas. Somehow that puckery quality becomes addictive. Just right for a seductive night deep in July or August where humidity makes itself into a sexy accessory. Not subtle but very alluring. Pure and beautiful, incense floats over it all and the effect is so much like the vapor lines of a mirage. Tea-like but not sweet.”

(this is one of my favorite fragrances EVER, i wear it like every day)

O, UNKNOWN! – Imaginary Authors

“At the risk of sounding bleak, this night could be your last. Splash on O, Unknown! and plunge forth into prosperity and joy. Repeat as often as you are able.”

black tea, lapsang souchong tincture, orris butter, kyoto moss, musk balsam, sandalwood

Bonus:

The Ifrit -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

Mist

Notes: water, herbs. Mist smells aquatic and green, like spring rain or a pond full of plants. There's an icy, aloof edge to her scent.

Perfumes:

Taste of Rain -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A primordially vernal chypre consecrated by silver rain, green ivy, holy basil, lilacs, moss, and wisteria.”

Diaphanous Dress -- Possets

“If the lovely Primavera would wear a gown, she might be dressed in a garment made of snow crystals and flowers. Even into April, spring can get cold even while the flowers we all love press upward. Spring displays irony in her variability. Deepest and richest Mexican vanilla troupes bravely with the chill aquatic of snow falling in heavy doses and melting almost on contact. A tuft of chlorophyll is in the background and a hint of the flowers it all overtakes for just a while. This is an enchanting fragrance, a hypnotic springtime blend which is more about the atmosphere than the real flowers themselves.”

Bonus:

Ammil -- Alkemia Perfumes

“An olfactory journey that morphs like melting ice... starting cold and aloof with distinct elements of wet snow and ice then gradually unfolding to reveal an indescribably unique velvety skin warmth.”

Mountain

Notes: vetiver, greenery, earth, mushrooms. Mountain smells very green and earthy, almost like he was recently underground, or maybe like he spent all day tending to a fragrant garden (he did).

Perfumes:

Hedale Wood -- Little And Grim

“This fragrance is dark and a bit mysterious, while staying green enough to be worn without smelling too villainous.”

vetiver, cedar trees, bergamot, dense foliage, coriander, musk, sandalwood, frankincense, a touch of lavender, amber

Heirloom Tomato Leaf -- Fyrinnae

“Rows of tomato plants on a humid day, their unmistakable heavy green fragrance filling the air and clinging to your hands as you touch the leaves. This is not a solitary note perfume, but includes significant notes of damp soil and humid air.”

Bonus:

Beneath The Forest -- Fyrinnae

“Beneath the trees, where scant sunlight ever reaches and few green plants grow, mushrooms (and decay) flourish in the ever-damp soil, surrounded by darkness. Step carefully, there could be traps.”

Nimbus*

Notes: peach, rose, wood. Nimbus smells sweet and slightly earthy, with an overwhelming ripe peach heart and a floral edge. Very pretty, very cheerful, but not childish.

Perfumes:

South Star -- PULP Fragrance

“Sweet creamy peach, vanilla beans, liatrix, & a woody-ambrette accord, all topped off with a hint of cinnamon.”

Someone Tell Lady Luck -- Little And Grim

lemongrass, bright fresh ginger, verbena, sweet peaches, bamboo, and clean rain on city streets

Bonus:

Aurora -- Alkemia Perfumes

Armenian Rose -- Fyrinnae

“The fragrance of dark red rose petals and sweeter pink roses with the earthy scent of native lilies.”

*i headcanon nimbus as a earth/air multi

Omega

Notes: wood, amber, tobacco. Omega smells warm, but not quite comforting. He smells like he knows more than you (he does) and like he's a little bit disappointed in you (he might be). He smells like he COULD be comforting, if you managed to earn his approval.

Perfumes:

Bibliotheca -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A vintage elegance of leatherbound books, plush club chairs, vintage vinyl records, polished mahogany tables, fountain pen ink, black tea, dark plum brandy, vetiver, rosewood, artemesia, white carnation, lavender water, citron, tweedy woolens, and oakmoss.”

(i have this one! it's surprisingly woody)

Bronze and Blaze -- Alkemia Perfumes

“Autumnal bronze amber aged with cognac barrel staves, red oak leaves, Perique pipe tobacco, raw wool, ripe pumpkin, opoponax (sweet myrrh), and soft suede gloves warmed by a creamy steamy cup of Bourbon vanilla coffee.”

Rain

Notes: seawater, ozone. Rain smells like the ocean, or more accurately, like a siren that wants to lure you out to sea and kill you. Wet, a little bit green, sweet and salty.

Perfumes:

Mermaids in the Basement -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A siren song of seawater soaked linen, aquatic incense, white ginger, pomelo, limoncello, dry moss, clary sage, cactus flower, prickly pear, loquat, fir resin, cedar needles, mesquite pods, Hinoki wood, Guaiac wood, and Elemi resin.”

EVERY STORM A SERENADE – Imaginary Authors

danish spruce, eucalyptus, vetiver, calone, ambergris, baltic sea mist

Bonus:

Black Squall -- Fyrinnae

“Open waters of the deepest blue, eerily calm before the looming arcus cloud in the distance bears down, revealing the wrath of the storm behind it. There was little left to do now but watch and wait. Cold and clean-smelling seawater, ozonic air, now and then a little olive oil from the lamps.”

Sunshine/Stratus**

Notes: strawberries, citrus, vanilla, spices. Sunny smells like summer. She smells like ripe fruit, sweet cold drinks, and sun, with a little bit of unexpected spice.

Perfumes:

Strawberry Lemonade -- PULP Fragrance

“Fresh strawberries, lemonade, and a bowl of strawberry-vanilla ice cream.”

Lola -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A dramatic splash of Coca-cola trailed by an adoration of blood orange, pink peppercorns, caviar lime, orange blossom, tonka, spicy nutmeg dancing sinuously across a base of warm Brazilian cherrywood.”

Bonus:

Stratus -- Osmofolia

Prairie 66 -- Alkemia Perfumes

“The smell of an old cement-paved road in the desert just before dawn when the cement is cold and almost, but not quite damp. Flowering desert sage, aldehydes, grapefruit, Linden blossoms, bergamot, saffron, gray amber, yucca, yuzu, and cool concrete. ”

**i headcanon sunny as a fire/air multi

Swiss***

Notes: smoke, musk, patchouli. Swiss smells dark but welcoming, unpredictable but attractive. He smells the way velvet feels: sweet, smoky, decadent.

Perfumes:

Smoke & Mirrors -- Alkemia Perfumes

“An elusive, smokey blend of burning wood, Madagascar Vanilla, and Tonka. We find this one to be elementally simple, but unusually mercurial and highly responsive to different skin chemistries… the vanilla and the smoke dance with each other almost continuously… sometimes the foreground is smoky, then sweet, then returns with sweetly smoky, then smoky.”

Allen Ginsberg - Howl -- Possets

“Possets' interpretation of Howl is unabashedly sexy, driven mad by welling passions. Black, red and amber musks wrestle furiously with sandalwood and opium tar resin. There is nothing light or gentle about this scent. A burning incense backs it up, black patchouli stands in the forefront. Dark, musky, resinous. Tremendously savage, dark and sweet like molasses rather than sugar. ...and yet, there is something innocent about it all.”

(i have howl and it's SO good and so perfect for swiss)

***i headcanon swiss as a fire/water multi

Zephyr

Notes: dust, ozone. Zephyr smells like the air where something once was, or maybe where something is and has been too long. Dusty, faintly sweet, slightly melancholic.

Perfumes:

Dustsceawung -- Alkemia Perfumes

“The scent of forbidden explorations and an olfactory meditation on dust... attic air, the inside of old trunks, abandoned haylofts, library stacks, and abandoned buildings. Dustsceawung is the contemplation of dust, worldly desires, and the ephemerality of all things... raspings that were once a tree, ruins that were once cities, bones that were once lovers. Dust is always the ultimate destination on our journey.”

Hauntology -- PULP Fragrance

“Ozone, olibanum, the air in a closed up kitchen cupboard that might once have held raisins and dried apricots, ambergris, burled briarwood, & the lost futures of a home abandoned.”

Bonus:

Zephyr -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

if you made it to the end of this i admire your dedication. and i would love to hear what you think!

#thank u for putting up with my rambling!#also if any of the links don't work please tell me and i'll fix it!#ghost bc #the band ghost #ghoul perfume thoughts #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #perfume thoughts

133 notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 11 months

Text

SERIES / AU masterlist

➤ THE CREEPY CASTLE [ nsfw ] – one-shots about the demon lord's castle and its inhabitants. ♫ [ playlist ] cw: dark themes and yandere content.

part 1: serptentine [ barbatos x gn!reader ] cw: religious imagery, implied somnophilia

part 2: hospitality [ barbatos x afab!reader ] cw: drugging, somnophilia

part 3: pet [ barbatos x gn!reader ] cw: forced imprisonment, starvation/forced feeding, animal cruelty

part 4: the spare [ barbatos x gn!reader ] —coming soon

➤ INSATIABLE [ nsfw ] – a sexually inexperienced afab!reader with a high libido comes to the devildom.

part 1: truancy [ solomon x reader ]

part 2: perseverance [ solomon x reader ]

part 3: the rules [ asmodeus x reader, solomon x reader ]

part 4: the fall [ solomon x reader x asmodeus ] —coming soon

part 5: sneak [ solomon x reader x barbatos ] —tbd

part 6: epilogue [ solomon x reader ] —tbd

➤ DARK SERENADE [ nsfw ] – a re-imagination of the og!canon timeline featuring yandere!solomon. cw: dark themes, violence, and suggestive content.

part 1: overture [ lessons 1-40 ] cw: obsession, jealousy, manipulation, canon-typical violence

part 2: library games [ lesson 40-41 interlude ] cw: resolved sexual tension

part 3: aria [ lessons 41-60 ] —tbd

➤ DIVINE REVELATIONS [ nsfw ] – your harmless obsession with michael gets complicated when the archangel himself develops feelings of his own.

part 1: blasphemy cw: obsession, invasion of privacy, suggestive and sexual content

part 2: penance cw: religious guilt, mind games, sexual content

part 3: confession —coming soon

part 4: absolution —tbd

➤ THE EDGE OF HEAVEN [ nsfw ] – your relationships with simeon and michael change after an extended visit in the celestial realm.

part 1: angels at the door cw: voyeurism/exhibitionism, possessive behaviour, sexual content

part 2: angels' commendation cw: threesome, possessive behaviour, sexual content

part 3: a demon's curiosity cw: suggestive content

part 4: clandestine affairs —coming soon

➤ ENCHANTMENT [ nsfw ] – alchemist!reader meets a mysterious elvish prince. lucifer x gn!reader, medieval fantasy au. cw: dark themes, suggestive/sexual content and fantasy violence.

part one: rubies in the dark cw: stalking, dream magic, implied somnophilia

part two: devilish persuasion —coming soon

➤ VAMPIRE!AU [ nsfw ] – inspired by the in-game vampire pop quiz event. Various character pairings with a gn! or afab! reader.

link to vampire!au masterlist

➤ OBEY ME x POKEMON AU – inspired by the world of pokemon. mostly headcanons, worldbuilding or related drabbles.

link to the obey me x pokemon au masterlist

➤ return to the obey me! masterlist

#jes.admin #masterlist #obey me masterlist

93 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 4 months

Text

Sunday sounds: the impossible bridge

In 2008, after six months of difficult negotiations, the New York Philharmonic orchestra was allowed to perform in Pyongyang for the first and only time since the end of the Korean War.

We might never know all the obscure details surrounding this unprecedented event and, to be honest, it doesn't really matter. We might never know, for example, if this was made possible on one of Kim Jong-Il's mercurial whims or if it was a carefully orchestrated - how ironic! -rare moment of détente. What is important, is that on February 26, it just happened. With a rather strange program (featuring Bernstein's Candide Overture, Bizet's Arlésienne, Gershwin's An American in Paris and Dvořák's Symphony No.9, 'From the New World') and in front of a completely unprepared audience. For clarity's sake, you have to bear in mind these people simply had no idea who Bernstein (or Jim Morrison, for that matter) was, simply because that was (and I bet still is) considered to be the pinnacle of decadent, hostile music.

The concert ended with what was probably the North Korean hosts' mandatory choice and, as such, intended to be a deeply emotional, empathic moment . An orchestral suite based on Arirang, Korea's unofficial national anthem (both in the North and the South, by the way):

youtube

The rendition is rather forgettable. You can just feel that the orchestra is a bit nervous: huge pressure, unfamiliar music. But as often, the really interesting part of the show happens in the audience. The one who likes it, but doesn't allow himself to fully enjoy it. The one who doesn't and smirks, because he probably thinks these Americans will never get it right. The one who is probably working for the North Korean State Security and closely monitors the people's reactions. The one who was considered to be trustworthy enough to be sent by his ministry to this, but whose shoes are one size too small and killing him softly. The one who plays the tourist guide for the American huge party of 300 people and wonders what she will write in her report. The mother of two who completely forgot about the context and just remembers happier days. The Politburo wife who stares at the dresses of the American guests, wondering if her seamstress will be able to copy them. The one who politically yawns in Korean and the old honcho who conveniently fell asleep.

After all, people are people all over the world, isn't it?

Arirang means 'my beloved'. It is a heartbreaking story about two lovers separated by a river (in which the future groom drowned), in one of those twists of narrative fatalistic cruelty whose deep meaning is almost impossible to understand for a Westerner. A bridge too far, perhaps: the only thing that remains is, of course, the music.

#sunday sounds #youtube #traditional #Asian

34 notes · View notes

spiderversebigbang · 2 months

Text

Spider-Verse Big Bang 2023 Masterpost

Valley of the Kings

Author: @rainbowtransform || ao3 Artists: @ovytia-art and @zylien

“So, Gym Leader Peter Parker of the Celadon Gym died a few months ago, if you’d recall.” Miles nods his head. He’d seen it all over his feed, and plus it was all over the news.

24-year-old Peter Parker dies by a heart attack, survived by a grieving widow, their pokémon, and the people of his city. Or: Miles is appointed to be a gym leader of Gym Leader Parker’s death. Unfortunately for him, nobody thinks he can do it least of all Miles himself. At least, until he finds a mysterious note saying that Gym Leader Parker’s death might not be an accident.

Wordcount: 14,356 || Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Character(s): Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Peter Benjamin Parker | Spider-Man Noir, Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse), Peni Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse), Peter Porker, Wilson Fisk Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Team as Family, Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Animal Cruelty (mentioned), Miles Morales Needs a Hug, Spiderverse Big Bang, Fluff and Angst, Mystery, Peter Parker does still die in this guys sorry

Overture

Author: @the-real-pocket-egg || ao3 Artists: @jo-v-ie and @hootdraws

"In the realm of songs and symphonies, there exists such a thing as a climax, a crescendo; the striking of a match that burns its brightest the moment before being suddenly and unceremoniously snuffed out. It’s the point towards which the band has been clawing to reach, to see all of its hard work paid back in kind as the music swells and the audience’s hearts quicken in anticipation. When nothingness had fallen upon him, so with it went the music, and the Doctor had the sense that he had just been fully and thoroughly, suddenly and unceremoniously, snuffed out. Hypothesis? Not-his Peter had killed him. Great." The year? 1982. The location? Broadway. The lesson? That maybe Otto Octavius understands T.S. Elliot more than he let on.

Wordcount: 13,835 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing(s): Otto Octavius/Rosalie Octavius Character(s): Otto Octavius, Rosalie Octavius, Norman Osborn, Curt Connors, Peter Parker, Aunt May Parker, Max Dillon, Flint Marko Tags: Fluff, Angst, First Dates, Slice of Life, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Musicals, Theatre, Romance, Memories, Memory Alteration, Headaches & Migraines, Redemption

Demons Within

Author: @loadyron || ao3 Artists: @noiter00123 and @zarthhearth

Peter and Wade's pasts are… complicated. The weight of their experiences brings out fear and sympathy from them both.

Spider-Man numbed his heart and promised to never be in a relationship again, but as he realizes his feelings for Deadpool he finds his past haunts him with agonizing pain. Deadpool while coming across his new love interest, finds himself opening up. But the torture and abuse, all the stuff he had been through would always haunt him.

Follow their love story and watch how both despite being tormented by their traumatic past, heal the wounds in their hearts. Finding comfort as they develop a strong emotional bond

Wordcount: 18453 || Rating: Mature

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing(s): Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Character(s): Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Weasel Tags: Canon Compliant, Andrew Garfield (Peter Parker/Spider-man), Ryan Reynolds (Wade Wilson/Deadpool), Longfic, angst, introspection, miscommunication, humor, love story, falling in love, dating, first kiss, age gap, compassion heals wounds, emotion bound, emotional comfort, sexual tension, poor coping mechanism to trauma, happy ending, Post- Canon, Post-Spider-Man: No Way Home, Post-Movie: Deadpool 2 (2018) and bad language

Sirens (Just Wanna be Good Again)

Author: @sparkstar-trash || ao3 Artists: @mistical52, @kats0wo and Sehrli

When Miles inserts himself into a fight between two villains, the last thing he expects to happen is to lose his powers. With a Brooklyn-wide conspiracy, constant spider missions, and everyday life bearing down on him, Miles cannot handle it all without his spider powers -- especially when he refuses to ask for help from anyone except his Prowler counterpart. That is until he gains Venom Symbiote, and suddenly, his powers seem to be back. But are they really? How will Miles face all his responsibilities without giving in to the devil in disguise whispering on his shoulder?

Wordcount: 48,963 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Character(s): Miles Morales, Miles Morales | Prowler (Marvel Earth-42), Ganke Lee, Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Miguel O'Hara, Lyla | LYrate Lifeform Approximation (Earth-928), Peter B. Parker, Pavitr Prabhakar, Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Olivia Octavius, Max Dillion, Michael Morbius Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Miles Morales Needs a Hug, Miles Morales-centric, BAMF Miles Morales, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Villain Character Death, Cancer, Possessive Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Loss of Powers, Post-Canon, Miles Morales has the Venom Symbiote

LYLA's Gambit

Author: @thesilentbard || ao3 Artists: @madbunnyarts and @maybetheworldwillburn

“Come on, Miguel. Miles traveled all the way to this dimension just to see you. I think you at least owe him a cup of coffee and some conversation.” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fine.” He leveled a deadpan stare at Miles. His next words came out clipped and inhospitable. “A pleasure to see you, Miles.” He gestured woodenly towards the interior. “Won’t you come in? I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

After Spider Society disbands, LYLA decides it's time that Miguel get his life back together. The first step? Reconciling with Miles Morales. Everything after that? Well, LYLA has a plan.

Wordcount: 15,128 || Rating: General

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara/Original Female Character(s) Character(s): Lyla | LYrate Lifeform Approximation (Earth-928), Miguel O'Hara, Miles Morales, Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Original Female Character(s) Tags: Slice of Life, Angst and Humor, LYLA-centric, Miguel O'Hara needs a life, Post-Canon, Identity Reveal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, mild romance, POV Third Person, Lyla POV, Speculative Post-BTSV, Spider Society is disbanded, Character Study, overcoming guilt, mending broken relationships, over-reaching AI, Comedy

Breakthrough

Author: Simbeline Artists: @uwuagenda and herefor_reasons

When Spot stepped into the collider, he changed. Miles... well, Miles changed, too. (Inspired by EEAAO, for the Spider Verse Big Bang 2023.)

Wordcount: 20,116 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply Character(s): Miles Morales, Miles Morales | Prowler (Marvel Earth-42), Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Miguel O'Hara, Spot (Spider-Man: Across the Universe), Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, Rio Morales, Jefferson Morales (Earth-1610), Jessica Drew, Aaron Davis (Marvel Earth-42) Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Everything Everywhere All at Once, (but you don't really need to know anything about EEAAO), Dimension Travel, Time Travel, Identity Reveal, Miles Morales-centric, Movie: Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023), Spiderverse Big Bang 2023, Powerful Miles Morales

Oh, the places you'll go!

Author: @graham-cracker-guillotine || ao3 Artists: @samaspic31 and @englandamericaitaly

Miles landed ungracefully in a heap, smacking into several trash cans and cardboard boxes on the way down. As he straightened up, he inhaled sharply. This wasn’t his New York. Where were the colors? The energy? It was as if someone threw away all the things that made New York what it was and left just the gross, dirty buildings behind. The rooftop access door slammed open, revealing an older man. Graying hair, lines in his face, though his pressed suit seemed to be out of place with the dingy-looking rooftop. Miles realized belatedly that he looked like a police officer - maybe the commissioner? The older man glanced around, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Fuckin’ Bats,” he muttered, shaking his head. Miles watched, bewildered, as the man turned and simply walked back the way he came. What the hell? ~~ What if the spider that bit 1610-Miles Morales wasn’t actually from Dimension 42? What if it wasn’t from a Spiderverse dimension? What if the universe that the spider came from was less arachnid themed and more… bat themed?

Wordcount: 29,432 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairing(s): Tim Drake/Miles Morales (preslash) Character(s): Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Peter B. Parker (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse), Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Jason Todd, Batfamily Members, Justice League (DCU), Spider society - Character, Harleen Quinzel Tags: Miguel O'Hara Bashing, (collective) Spider Society Bashing, Miles Morales Whump, Glitching (Spiderverse), Panic Attacks, Justice League as Family (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Miles Morales Acts Like a Spider, no Gwen Stacy bashing, Miles is very much just rolling with the punches rn, his catchphrase is “yeah okay”, Protective Harleen Quinzel, Minor Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Fake Science, Pre-Movie: Spider-Man: Beyond the Spider-Verse (2024)

The Life We Wish We Had

Author: @tytach and @noiter00123 || ao3 Artist: @the-real-pocket-egg

We all want to live the life we wish we had. Believe me, I have tried. And the harder I tried, the more damage I did." - Miguel O’Hara Ever since having his DNA spliced with a spider’s, Miguel’s personal life has become a mess. A hidden identity, troublesome mutations, and increasingly frequent bouts of anger tear at his sanity daily. So when his ex-fiancée gets sucked into another dimension, well — that’s just one more act to the shit show, isn't it? ...or so he thought. As it turns out, getting stranded in a new world with her and the ever-annoying Peter B. Parker might be exactly what he needs to turn his life around. A story exploring the trauma behind Miguel’s behavior and convictions in Across the Spiderverse.

Wordcount: 33,365 || Rating: Mature

Archive Warning(s): Major Character Death Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara/Dana D'Angelo, Peter B. Parker/Mary Jane Watson Character(s): Miguel O’Hara, Dana D’Angelo, Peter B. Parker, Lyla, Jordan Boone, Mary-Jane Watson, Doctor Octopus, Gabriel O’Hara Tags: Pre-Canon, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tone shift, Pregnancy, Child Loss, Bridging the comics and movie lore gap, Identity Reveal, Mending relationship, No Smut, Multiple POVs, Unreliable Narrators, Brutal ending, Mention of blood and injuries

Germfree Adolescence

Author: @kubostrrrngs || ao3 Artist: khansarah

Gwen convinces Miles to join a band with the rest of their friends. Turns out it's a great choice. A small series on Miles' life with his bandmates.

Wordcount: 16,286 || Rating: Teen

Archive Warning(s): Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Pairing(s): Miles Morales/Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar/Gayatri Singh Character(s): Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, Margo Kess, Gayatri Singh, Peter B Parker, Rio Morales, Jefferson Morales Tags: Alternate Universe - no powers, Alternate universe - rock band, Miles Morales-centric, No angst, Platonic relationships, Babysitting, Trans Gwen Stacy, Very minor though, Teenage dorks, First dates, Dorks in love, First relationship, Sweet Pavitr Prabhakar, Fluff and humour, Attempt at humour, No plot/plotless, Just vibes, McDonald's, Grocery store, Food as a metaphor for love, Concerts, Adorable Mayday Parker, Minor Peter B Parker/Mary Jane Watson, Hobie Brown is a little shit, Miles Morales is trying his best, Gwen Stacy is bad at feelings, She's doing better, Good friend Pavitr Prabhakar, Margo Kess is a good friend, This should already be a tag, Big bang challenge, Anthology, Artist Miles Morales, Drummer Gwen Stacy, Underage drinking

#spiderverse big bang #spiderverse big bang 2023 #svbb2023 #spiderverse

18 notes · View notes

daenerysoftarth · 1 year

Text

I can understand show!Alicent’s rationale for Aegon II as king, but it ultimately falls flat just like the book does. from a perspective as to whether or not Rhaenyra’s ascension to the throne is dangerous to her specifically, the only real evidence beforehand is Aemond losing an eye. and it’s shown in both the tv show and book that Aemond was the one to instigate and then continually escalate the fight until it devolved into extreme violence. especially in the books, I do not blame Rhaenyra’s sons for defending themselves from a boy who showed them extreme hostility (as opposed to the other way around in the show) and then was beating on children half his age. even in the show where the ages are more similar, Aemond is shown to be escalating the fight to dangerous levels. this same tendency towards excessive violence eventually culminates in him killing Luke

the parents don’t know what happened, but Rhaenyra didn’t show any cruelty towards her siblings or make any overtures to violence unto them from that day on. nor did any of her children. she removed herself from the conflict so as to eliminate future issues, which I think is the mature route considering in both the show and book the greens are the instigators of all the altercations prior to the dance of the dragons. Rhaenyra never actually shows any plan or desire to hurt her siblings in order to ascend the throne past the comment on ‘questioning [Aemond] sharply.’ and while it’s fair for Alicent to be concerned as to that threat, (almost 10) years pass between that time and Viserys dying, during which Rhaenyra does not make any threats or plans to hurt her siblings. Alicent is just projecting her own desire to hurt people (Rhaenyra’s kids especially) onto everyone else around her. this is made exquisitely clear in the books, tho not quite in the show as of yet

then ofc when the dance actually starts, it IS aemond that escalates the conflict into all out civil war. it’s just ironic how Alicent claims it’s the safety of her children which drives her into starting the Dance, but in reality Rhaenyra showed no desire to hurt Alicent’s kids and it’s Alicent’s team that ultimately casts the first stone

#hotd #asoiaf #team green #team black #aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #my posts #valyrianscrolls

62 notes · View notes

mr-clow · 6 months

Text

Overture: The rise of an imperatrix. Part 2:

Carlos was finishing some details with the camera crew while I was standing behind a square barstool covered with a silk sarong over it that gave a really tidy look. He had found a female blazer that suited me, and one of the journalists combed my hair. He might be unorthodox, but he did his job. For my plan, this was the first step, but I knew I would need someone with his abilities, maybe I had found my press minister.

Carlos – General, we are starting now. Three, two, one!

I looked at the camera, letting my madness run amok in my eyes and words, took a deep breath and hoped that this would have the consequences I desired:

I stand before you today not as a politician, nor as a general, but as a mother who has witnessed unspeakable horrors inflicted upon her daughters, her people, and her beloved land. I am Jeanette Iceni, and I carry with me a heart heavy with grief and a soul ablaze with righteous fury.

These invaders from foreign worlds, have shown us no mercy. They have trampled upon our sacred soil, desecrated our homes, and torn apart the flesh and spirit of our families. My heart weeps for what has been done to them, the innocence stolen, the dignity crushed. We have seen our kin subjected to the cruellest of fates, their bodies massacred, their spirits broken, all by the hands of these heartless aliens.

I stand here today, not in grief alone, but in defiance! We shall not bow to the cruelty of these oppressors. No! We shall rise against them, and with the strength of our ancestors and the fire that burns within us, we shall make them rue the day they set foot upon our sacred world!

They thought they could conquer us, subdue us, break us. But they have underestimated the power of a united people who are willing to fight for their freedom, their honour, and the future of their children. We are the descendants of warriors, the sons and daughters of this great world, and we shall not be silenced.

As an old queen of ages, I saw everything that I held dear ripped away by invaders that hold nothing more than greed upon themselves. I will take the name Boudica, as I will not rest until they have paid for the pain they inflicted upon us or until I am dead.

Our vengeance shall be as relentless as the cruelty of the void. We shall strike back with the force of a thousand storms, and every drop of alien blood spilled upon our hands will be a testament to their wickedness and our unwavering resolve.

Let them hear our battle cries echo through the ages! Let them tremble in fear as they face the fury of humanity! We will fight until every alien invader is cast out of our system, cast out of our worlds, until justice is served for the atrocities committed against our kin, our children, and until we can once again hold our heads high in honour.

My people, our struggle is not in vain. It is a flame that shall burn in the annals of history, a beacon of hope for all who yearn for freedom and justice. Let our enemies know that we are not to be trifled with, for we are the indomitable spirit of humanity, and we shall prevail!

Onward, my warriors! Onward to victory and the reclamation of our land, our dignity, and the honour of our children!

I looked at Carlos who looked at me speechless and softly touched the back of the camera man. As soon as he stopped the broadcast, Carlos said “What the hell did I do” to which I only smiled wickedly and fainted.

I woke up with Carlos slapping me, shouts filling the room and a loud sound that made the room reverb. I grabbed Carlos hand instinctively, looked around and pointed to a chair. He helped me to sit, and I move my head towards the door.

Boudica – Let them in, they are doing their job as you did. Everything else is upon the people you helped me reach and the hearts I touched.

Carlos – You are going to be executed for insubordination. I cannot let you go.

Boudica – You did as you had to. Let them, as I greet death with open arms.

Carlos gave the order to the people holding the door to back off and let them in. As soon as they opened the lock, a brigade of the military forces rushed in, held everyone against the wall and took me as a madman outside the room. I was being dragged through corridors where people saw me with emotions running down their faces. As soon as they stepped into an open space, where refugees were staying, I yelled, for all of them to hear.

“Will this be all? This is the only fight we are going to give? To bow down our heads and dragged ourselves through the mud”

A soldier put his hand on my mouth, stopping me, but it was enough. The sea of people that a second before were lamenting and liking their wounds now had their sight set upon the soldiers that were dragging me. One after the other, they stood up, blocked their path and when one of them tried to move them apart two more appeared to block the path until the soldiers stopped and released me. Scared for their lives, their instinct told them to let me go and retreat.

I won’t say that the revolt was peaceful, but only a hundred lives were lost on it. Less than 48 hours later I was seating on the command room, all the opposition dead and everyone that abandoned their post willingly waiting for a ship to earth.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #humans are space orcs #humans are space aussies #The bloody imperatrix

9 notes · View notes

travelingneuritis · 1 year

Text

kinnporsche ep. 5: Paying For Sex

-”what happened to me?” porsche wakes up decidedly sober, confused about last night and very aware that he’s naked in porsche’s bed with a newly-broken-in ass; it looks to me like he’s running the same arithmetic as he did last night but arriving at a different answer now that his system is no longer swimming with mind-altering substances. And kinn just sits there not looking at him and tells him, “we got there in time. they didn’t do anything to you.” guys it HURTS

-kinn has that loaded poolside chess match with korn, and korn activates him like a sleeper agent. in an instant he goes from offering porsche another day off to remorselessly torturing him in front of his peers. korn really has kinn’s number huh

-watching porsche crawl is awful. watching kinn humiliate him in front of big & ken is awful. watching big & ken taunt him is awful. for once his fuckup wasn’t a deliberate prank or attempt to push boundaries, but he’s getting punished like it was. but the absolute worst is watching him dissociate in the bathroom afterward, obsessing over fractured memories of warmly-lit, slow-mo sex with his boss, trying (and wretchedly failing) to make those memories go away.

-and then for pete to come in and kindly, gently inform him that this was inevitable, because people are already gossiping about his string of failures: kinn had to do something to regain control of the situation, just like kinn had to publicly choke him out after he pushed macau into the koi pond. that’s right, a traumatic event porsche hasn’t even begun to process is now gossip fodder for people who hate him and think he’s useless! and then the invitation to “party” with tankhun and his crew-- aka, to be their entertainer for the evening when he’s already feeling like this. i’d be trying to eat my lighter too.

-”if I’m not allowed, i won’t go.” even after being shown cruelty and humiliation while he was at an excruciating low point, he still instinctively reaches out to kinn to save him from something he doesn’t want to happen. on the surface, this doesn’t really make sense: kinn has by far been more unkind to porsche than kind; he routinely humiliates or embarrasses him and makes him feel like an idiot (sometimes deservedly, sometimes not). why does porsche keep doing this? why does he compulsively reach out to kinn when his teasing or friendly overtures are so overwhelmingly met with open disdain?

I think it’s because, as hot and cold as kinn may blow, foundationally he has provided porsche with something vital that he hasn’t had for a long time, maybe since his parents died: kinn solves porsche’s problems. the bad men came to hurt his family and extort an unpayable sum from them, and porsche appeared with room and board + the means to provide for chay and keep their parents’ house. on an earlier job, kinn was the one who pushed porsche out of the way of a bullet that hit his arm instead his heart, & kinn was the one who appeared out of the drugged mist and brought porsche up to a room that was private and safe, then stayed with him all night. These aren’t healthy examples of “providing safety”-- kinn is the reason the threats against porsche’s family escalated so suddenly (not that porsche knows that) and kinn’s version of “a safe place to come down from being poisoned” is a bathroom where he then fucks his drugged employee. but i can see how, for someone with porsche’s specific set of life experiences and expectations, both of these constitute rare and precious advocacy.

which is pretty heartbreaking, but even more fascinating. the fact that he went from poisoned, vomiting and terrified in a stranger’s room to being lovingly held and doted-on in kinn’s room must’ve put the final nail in his imprinting on him. there were multiple moments in the bathroom scene where kinn physically caught a falling porsche (bitching about it all the while), and if that’t ain’t emblematic of their dynamic i don’t know what is. so when porsche says, “if i’m not allowed i won’t go [to the bar w/tankhun]”, what he’s really saying is: “i feel vulnerable and unhappy, and i want you to save me from this thing i’m afraid will hurt me, just like you’ve done before.”

and of course kinn brushes him off. this kills me.

-at the bar, yok sets him up with another horny customer, and this time he can’t follow through. he just keeps replaying the night with kinn in his head. even drugged and shaking from his horrifyingly close call, he still felt safer & more connected to kinn than he ever has with any of these hum bar hookups. & if his sex noises are any indication, he’s really not used to being petted, gratified, and sexually indulged (reading between the lines, i’d say kinn isn’t used to being the one who offers those things in bed either). kinn spent like 20 minutes on his left nipple alone. they luxuriated in being naked together; they spent long stretches just kissing and feeling each other up. i really don’t think porsche knew sex could be like this. no wonder he can’t focus on the panting stranger in front of him-- which of course only makes him feel worse.

-vegas showing up flaunting his brightly-colored plumage. am i aware that vegas was the one who had porsche drugged and then sexually threatened him while he was out of it? duh. are these two profoundly, upsettingly hot together? YES GODDAMMIT. i don’t ship them or anything but this toxic flirtation is very truly doing it for me

-according to reddit (so, whatever. lol), the reason vegas has a really nuanced and idiomatic accent for his english lines is because that’s wichapas sumettikul’s first language. however i have decided to hc that vegas learned english as a matter of general theerapanyakul business-class education, but went out of his way to master it so he could sound effortlessly sleazy in two languages instead of one.

-do we think porsche is kinda digging vegas? he does walk away from their moonlit joyride beaming and glowing, following a very touchy-feely conversation and several lingering hugs. personally, i think he’s just high off the feeling of having someone do something nice for him, tell him they’re there for him, and offer him physical comfort. his last few days have been hell, and vegas is being nice to him right now. then he goes and (ugh! compulsively!) seeks reinforcement from the person he really wants to be offering him rides, and gets a gun pulled on him for his troubles. he even nerves up to say (in words!) that what kinn did hurt him, and when that gets him no fucking joy he’s even willing to settle for some emotionally-unfulfilling comfort of the sexual kind. kinn just acts like a raging bitch before snootily demoting him. i very sincerely hate kinn in this moment; but by this point porsche is well and truly hooked, so all i can hope is that kinn yanks his head out of his small intestine and mans up before he breaks this poor boy for good.

-even for the sake of this ep’s analysis i can’t force myself to watch the cute, awkward musical interludes b/w kim and chay. i’m sorry. i did skim them though, and watched the parts where kim is manipulative because those are fun. i can’t tell if kim is a master manipulator or if chay is just a supremely easy target.

-from these glimpses of kim’s character, we see that he’s: underhanded, nosy, got a good poker face, quick-thinking, mentally organized, self-interested, independent, smooth-talking, and clever enough to hide his incriminating connect-the-dots corkboard under a gigantic photo of himself that is so cringe he knows no one will ever dare to look behind it. i’m starting to like the kid?

-on my first watch of the show, porsche’s poolside convo with korn made me very much like: “wow the mafia is so nice in bl shows, he’s such a jolly, avuncular old guy! he’s giving him PTO! i don’t even have PTO!” on second watch... LMAO

esp. after his parallel chat/chess game with kinn yesterday, i do think korn is like. lowkey expecting porsche to act in a more predictable manner, as one of kinn’s spurned lovers? he’s moping around looking pathetic & sad, much the way we’ll later see tawan do when he’s trying to get back in with kinn. korn gives him a kinda generic “own up to your mistakes and fix them,” maybe meaning to imply that porsche was at fault either for sleeping w/ kinn or for catching feelings. but when porsche’s response is to ask to go home and take care of his brother (implying either that it was a mistake to transfer the care he owes his brother to this messy, undeserving family, or else that the only way to fix his mistakes is to regain equilibrium in the safety of his home and family), korn looks surprised and thoughtful. maybe i’m reading too much into it, but i think this is not the conversation he was expecting to have.

ETA: in the next ep’s recap, porsche asking korn if he can take care of someone else is translated differently, in a way that implies he’s just asking to be reassigned. but the way the scene w/ korn ended with him asking to take care of someone else, then cut to him at home, taking care of chay, sort of supported my initial interpretation. so i’m not sure. either way, korn is taken off-guard.

-i love the montage of porsche and chay living comfortably under one roof again. no notes

-i’m still trying to figure out how much of pete’s apparent cluelessness re: kinnporsche is a put-on, but the wide-eyed way he tells his boss “if it weren’t for porsche’s traumatic poisoning and subsequent spirit-breaking punishment, i’d think he was heartbroken! lmao crazy right??” does sort of lend credence to the theory. at any rate, that’s how kinn seems to take it.

-back at casa kittisawasd, kinn is forced to sit through his own funeral and finds he does not care for the eulogy. unlike pete, porsche’s other friends aren’t diplomatic about handing him his ass. so then porsche is forced to once again stress about whether he’s gonna get fired, and kinn surprises him by... playing along? and being kinda chill? like, gritting his teeth the whole time, but... chill for him.

-”your coworker seems so dull.” porsche, remembering how kinn rocked his world then pulled a gun on him (metaphorically) then pulled a gun on him (literally): 😬

-the SECOND porsche’s friends leave he just comes out and bluntly asks kinn why he’s here, and kinn just as bluntly starts to chew him out for leaving, before remembering pete’s advice and dialing it back. i think it’s interesting (though not surprising) that his instinct is to engage with porsche on a fairly level field-- bicker with him, lust after him, tsk at his nonsense. it’s when he’s acting/thinking of himself as a representative of theerapanyakul llc. that he turns high-handed, icy and cruel. it’s only now, in the middle of a frustrating argument after an uncomfortable dinner, that porsche gets his answer to the question “do you want me back”: faced with the prospect of porsche’s resignation, kinn outright begs.

but now, after all the bullshit kinn put him through, porsche is finally not in the fucking mood to be won over. not even when he gets what must be rarer than gold, an actual honest-to-god apology from le Dauphin Theerapanyakul.

-aaaaaand then some guys with guns show up and i mostly tune out, although i do tune back in during the car chase to make note of porsche taking advantage of their captors’ distraction to grab someone’s gun and ruin their night. i don’t know if i mentioned yet but i like the stunt choreo in this show; it tends to be serviceable but pretty solid, and you usually get to see actions from beginning to end instead of a bunch of shaky closeups to imply momentum without having to like, film an actual fight. and the pacing on the fights is a WELCOME RELIEF after all the wuxia i’ve been watching. this might just be a genre thing, but it’s nice :)

this got long. in my defense: have you seen this show.

#are they drinking beer with ice in it? is that.... a thing?#update: i am informed it Is A Thing. i'll have to try it!#scream at me about kinnporsche #kinnporsche #kinnporsche episode analysis #porsche pachara kittisawasd #spoilers #kinn theerapanyakul

19 notes · View notes

whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 2 years

Text

@nessianweek Day 5: Music. A scene I wished we had in ACOSF: Cassian filling the symphonia with Nesta's favourite music because he's a massive simp who knows no limits when it comes to the woman he loves.

Overture

Overture: noun. An orchestral piece at the beginning of an opera; an introduction to something more substantial.

Hope springs eternal amongst optimists and fools, but Cassian was hoping he was neither.

It had taken root within him last night. A hope he wanted desperately to believe was neither foolish nor needlessly optimistic, a hope that had bloomed in the darkness of the Hewn City. So far removed from the sky littered with stars, Cassian had felt hope ignite like a fledgling flame last night— so tremblingly new, so fragile. Hope he didn’t ever want to see die.

All because of a dance.

The second Nesta had stepped onto the dance floor, Cassian had been mesmerised. She was a thing of beauty spearing through the horror and cruelty, and he’d never seen a thing more wondrous, more magnificent.

Language had failed him. Words hadn’t been enough, didn’t do her justice.

She was stunning. So agonisingly beautiful in Night Court black that he’d almost fallen to his knees. Glamoured to mask the scent of him that clung to her, Cassian hadn’t thought he could want her more— but he was aching now, burning with longing that had nothing to do with the marks he’d left on her skin, the dress that made her look like a conqueror, a goddess. No, ever since last night, he had been desperate for her in an entirely new way, all because of the way she had sparked when the band struck up.

In the cradle of the melody, in the arms of the sonata, Nesta had come alive.

It was a sight he wanted to treasure forever, one that he would carry with him to his dying day, and one that he would do anything in his power to see again. She’d told him she liked music, but he hadn’t realised just how much, and it was with that knowledge that he had woken early that morning and returned to the Hewn City. Willingly descended into the darkness and let the mountain swallow him whole.

He could think of nothing but her. His siphons burned as he stood once more in that throne room, thinking solely of how she’d moved across that floor but hours ago. How, if these walls could speak, they’d write eulogies about the night Nesta Archeron danced in their hall.

He hadn’t tasted fresh air for over an hour, nor glimpsed a single shaft of sunlight. All that survived down here was darkness and cruelty— and, apparently, music.

The Court of Nightmares had music. Refrains he’d never before paid attention to, ballads he’d never had much reason to note. The band in the corner had been there at every celebration he’d ever attended here, but he’d never before stepped onto the dance floor. For centuries, he’d spent each agonising engagement leaning menacingly against a pillar, but all of that had changed last night. Nesta had been lost in the music, and Cassian had found himself lost too. Suddenly the music wasn’t just a combination of instruments and notes, scales and arpeggios. It was her. A piece of her she’d kept hidden, one that made him breathless with longing. She had echoed the beat, followed it, anticipated it, as if it were a part of her. As if it were a song composed for her and her alone, and the rest of them were just lucky bystanders— blessed to even witness it.

Fucking Nesta was one thing, but oh, Cassian wanted so much more. Yearned for so, so much more. No matter how many times he’d had her, how many times they met, frantic, clawing at one another in a rush of tearing clothes and plundering kisses… It wasn’t enough. He wanted to fall asleep at her side. To wake in the mornings and see the sunlight kiss her face, to brush her shoulder with his fingertips, his touch one of devotion.

The look in her eyes as she danced… The way she moved to the music as if it were a language created solely for her… Cassian wanted to see that look on her face every damn day for the rest of eternity.

So as soon as dawn had broken, he’d sought out and paid a small fortune for a tiny device Helion had once told him of. One that trapped and contained music, to be played again and again as much as the heart desired— as much as Nesta’s heart desired.

With the symphonia in hand, he’d flown right here— back to the Court of Nightmares, the place that, despite everything, had the music Nesta so adored. Hope glistened, warm in his chest as he looked at the symphonia and thought of her. He hoped to see that smile again on her face, dreamed of the way her eyes would light up as she realised what the symphonia was, what it did. He hoped that she’d let him kiss her the way he’d wanted to from their very first meeting— softly, reverently. Not just to get her into his bed, but to show her how deep his devotion ran. He hoped the symphonia would prove to her how much he adored her. How much she meant.

Hoped, too, that he wasn’t a fool for dreaming.

***

Casting a red glow on the smooth cut floors, his seven siphons made sinister shadows of the carved walls. The dips and crevices in the rock, the monstrous engravings… made all the more fearsome when bathed in crimson. Yet Cassian barely gave them a second look. Didn’t even blink as he paced before Rhys’ vacant throne and looked out at the musicians assembled before him.

“Again,” he instructed, voice echoing in the emptiness of the throne room. The vast space was almost bare, all decoration from the night before vanished. As if it had never happened, as if Nesta hadn’t damn near brought this entire court to its knees without uttering a single word.

The instruction was for the musicians. For the conductor standing there, looking slightly faint.

It was not for the steward of the Hewn City, the bastard standing closer to that throne than any of them. To Cassian’s utter fucking chagrin, he had insisted on bearing witness to this entire thing, and Keir smirked now— triumphant, wanting to ruin this in any way he could. Cassian had never loathed him more.

With a furrowed brow, the conductor practically trembled as he stepped forward, as if just being in the presence of the mighty general of the Night Court was something to fear. Cassian even let his siphons flare just a little. He had never relished or enjoyed the reputation Rhys cultivated in this court, but today… if it got him what he needed, if it let him give Nesta what she needed, then Cassian had precisely zero qualms about a bloodthirsty reputation. He’d embrace it with open arms if it meant those arms could finally hold Nesta as she slept.

“It was perfect that time—“ the conductor began, but his words died as Cassian shook his head sharply.

“No,” Cassian countered. “It wasn’t.”

He cast a glance at Keir, standing to the side, right next to that carved throne. Keir had coughed. Cleared his throat deliberately whilst the piano and the violin reached a crescendo. The bastard had coughed, and though Cassian couldn’t be sure the symphonia had picked it up, it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. If he didn’t have other places to be, he might well have broken each and every one of Keir’s fingers.

“Who knew the Lord of Bloodshed had such a discerning ear,” Keir remarked archly, eyes narrowed in distaste as he took in all seven of those gleaming siphons, the fists Cassian had clenched. He kept his temper tightly reined whenever he suffered the presence of Mor’s ghastly father, and he had endured so many slights and insults over the centuries that there was generally little Keir could say to really get under his skin. But in this, in something that wasn’t for him at all but for Nesta… It was swiftly becoming unbearable, and Cassian needed to get this done before he really did break Keir’s fingers.

“Keep it up, Keir, and the only music these halls will hear for the next decade will be your screams as I peel your skin from your bones.”

The threat only earned Cassian another smirk, one he ignored as he stepped forward towards the small wooden table set up beside the conductor. The small silver symphonia sitting atop looked so out of place here— so bright and beautiful, practically glowing in the dim light, that Cassian thought it was fitting, really. He’d endure centuries of this darkness, plunge himself into the deepest, most malevolent parts of the world, all for her— Nesta was the bright and beautiful crack in the blackness, the light at the heart of his world.

He tapped the symphonia the way he’d been instructed, and when it began to glow softly, he nodded to the conductor and the assembled musicians and said, “Again.”

This time when the violinist drew his bow over the strings, Cassian gave Keir a look that said he didn’t make idle threats. Letting his hand drift to the hilt of the dagger at his thigh, Cassian kept his eyes trained on him as the music built, and built, and built, and only when it was done - truly perfect, this time - did he uncurl his fingers from around the leather-wrapped hilt, pluck up the silver device from the table, and leave without a backward glance.

***

It was an overture.

The symphonia, the music— it was a promise of something more, a prayer for something more meaningful.

A foundation laid, a promise given. Cassian kept his fingers wrapped tightly around that tiny piece of wondrous engineering as he navigated the narrow streets and back alleys of the most unsavoury part of Velaris. He hoped she’d know— that she’d see this for what it was. A beginning. The prologue of the story he so desperately wanted to write with her. Hoped that when she heard the music, she’d read in the symphonia the words he couldn’t yet say aloud.

I love you.

I love you, every facet and every piece. I love you, and I am yours.

Hoped that when he next kissed her, when she next let him in her bed, she’d ask him to stay.

He reached a battered oak door beneath an aged and swinging tavern sign. The White Hart, renowned for its gambling den and watered down beer— hardly famed for its orchestra. And yet, he’d found Nesta here on several occasions since the war, and each time she’d sworn she’d only came for the music. He’d never believed her, but after last night, he realised how foolish he had been.

He was met instantly with the scent of old ale and cheap wine. His feet stuck to the floor as he walked, spilled drinks and Mother only knew what else thick beneath his boots. Oh, he’d been so foolish. He should have taken Nesta to the opera. Should have gotten her tickets to the theatre, accompanied her to musicals and proms, concerts under the stars. Instead, he’d left her alone to search for a melody in the seediest of taverns, down the darkest of alleys. Guilt and regret settled heavily in his gut as he cast his gaze about this tavern, and he swore that after Solstice, after he’d gifted her the symphonia and all but surrendered his heart entirely, he’d take her to every show, every performance. Every genre, every theme— he’d promise her all of it.

He’d give her the music she wanted, the songs and the symphonies, because he’d failed her before, and he refused to do so again.

Ever.

***

“You’re out of your mind,” the barkeep scoffed, little impressed by Cassian’s seven siphons. He towered over the bar, a burly figure almost as tall and as broad as Cassian, with no hair on his head and a thick beard covering his jaw. Unlike the conductor at the Hewn City, this man would not be swayed by a fearsome reputation. Cassian supposed you didn’t run an establishment like this, in this part of town, without growing a thick skin so… Threats wouldn’t get him what he wanted this time.

“This lot play their best when they’re deep in their cups,” the barman continued, waving a hand towards the group of fae sitting at the edge of a raised platform that served as a stage. One was restringing a lute, the only indication that they were, indeed, the musicians Cassian was looking for. The rest sat smoking, playing cards, their instruments mostly discarded around them. “They’re far too sober for what you need, General.”

“I don’t care,” Cassian shrugged, leaning on the hammered bronze-topped bar. “Tell them to play.”

A curt, dismissive, shrug was his only response.

“It’s important,” Cassian pressed. “I need them to play for me.”

With an exasperated sigh, the barkeep shook his head. He wiped at a puddle of ale with a rag that had seen better days, before looking Cassian up and down and saying, slyly, “For the High Lady’s sister then, is it?”

Cassian didn’t know if he was just that obvious, or if the barman could scent Nesta on him, her perfume lingering on his skin. He rather hoped it was the latter— hoped that she’d marked him in some way, that he carried a piece of her with him wherever he went. Still, the sly smile of the barkeep made him scowl. “What would you know of it?” he asked flatly.

“I know you came here looking for her once or twice,” the barman shrugged, “and I know that she’s the only fucking soul that actually seemed to like the music they put out.” He hummed lightly, contemplatively. “I figure if you’re here here wanting them to play, it’s for her. Which is fine. I liked her.” He braced his arms on the bar, looking at Cassian with interest. “Never gave me any trouble, always tipped well.”

His eyes drifted to the stage, to the small space that served as a makeshift dance floor, little more than a wide gap between tables. Cassian wondered if this man had seen Nesta lost in the music too. If it had dragged him under her spell the way it had Cassian.

Pulling out a heavy gold coin, enough to buy an entire night’s worth of ale, Cassian raised an eyebrow. Holding it up between his thumb and forefinger, he said, “If you truly liked her— tell them to play.”

The barman considered the coin, his gaze flitting between it and the dance floor Nesta must have once made her own. After a long moment, he shook his head ruefully, pointing at the symphonia Cassian had pulled from his pocket and set on the bar.

“It’s no good,” he insisted. “You say it stores sounds? Then what am I to do about my patrons?” He waved a hand at the handful of fae lingering by the bar, refilling their tankards as soon as they were drained. At the four occupied gambling tables. Cassian had thought he’d find the place empty since it was early in the afternoon, but Solstice made the people start early, it seemed. “They’re far too loud for such a thing, surely.”

With such perfect, ironic, timing Cassian half wondered whether it was deliberate, a glass was smashed on the other side of the room, a fight breaking out over a game of cards. The barman did nothing to intervene, only folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow as if to say, see?

“So get them out,” Cassian said simply, dipping into his pocket and producing a small purse, one heavy and weighted with more golden coins. This was swiftly becoming the most expensive gift he’d ever given anybody, ever— but Nesta was worth it. Each gold coin and each copper penny— worth it. “All of them.”

Warily, the barman sighed. “They won’t be happy,” he warned, but he took the purse in hand nonetheless. Cassian shot him a wicked grin, and let his siphons pulse brighter.

“Leave it to me.”

***

By order of the High Lord this establishment is to be closed immediately, effective until this evening.

Cassian snorted to himself as the musicians lingering in the corner picked up their instruments and, with no small degree of exasperation, prepared to play. Rhys would be furious when he found out— that Cassian had made such a declaration, in a voice that carried, echoed, drowning out the grunts and groans from the disgruntled patrons of the White Hart. That he’d muscled several drunken citizens out of the backstreet tavern, all ostensibly at the High Lord’s command— in the name of filling the symphonia with Nesta’s favourite songs.

An absurd abuse of power but… What else was he to do?

Stroll casually over to a table of gamblers and say, you need to leave because I want the band to play some songs for the woman I love? Hold the door open for them and say, I’ve closed the place down because Nesta’s solstice gift requires it, and I’d apologise for the inconvenience except I’m not sorry at all?

The barman polished glasses as Cassian sat at a table before that little stage, the symphonia ready and waiting. The lutist began to play, flautists following, and when he heard the strains, Cassian couldn’t help but think of what would happen when he handed the symphonia over. After he placed it in a tiny little box, tied it off with a pretty little bow… What then?

This clever little device was so much more than something to just record sounds.

It was his entire heart, held out, offered on bended knee. It was him telling her that, though they’d spent months mindlessly fucking, he didn’t want that anymore. He saw every piece of her— each melody, all of her harmonies. Each note, each rhythm. He saw it all. Loved it all.

He’d hand her everything. Give her every piece of him until there was nothing left, if only she’d take it.

Gods, he wanted nothing more than for her to take it.

As the band continued to play, Cassian watched the symphonia glow, storing the sound of Nesta’s favourite song. This wasn’t just a collection of music— not just a novelty gift he’d picked up at short notice. This was every last piece of hope Cassian had, held within it like the songs it captured. It was his dream for the future, one where Nesta could never doubt how completely he was hers. One where she was his, too.

The piece reached its crescendo, loud and vibrant, echoing down to his very bones, and Cassian closed his eyes, praying that whatever happened when he gave her this gift…

It was just the overture.

#nessian #nessianweek2022 #nessian fic #i wanted to have a couple more things done for this week but given the very very looming thesis deadline this is all i have #maybe something for saturday? but who knows at this point

58 notes · View notes

kathyprior4200 · 26 days

Text

Hazbin Hotel Episode One: "Overture" Part 2 (Helluva Scribe Remake)

“Overture” Part 2

Charlie had never felt so humiliated in her life. She sat in her seat and curled into herself. Once again, her ideas were dismissed, mocked, ridiculed. No one was willing to see the good in themselves. The demons were content to wallow in suffering, violence, and cruelty until the end of their afterlives. Tears were already threatening to spill from her yellow eyes, but she held them in.

Maybe her father was right. What if she really was a failure, like everyone said?

As if reading her mind, Vaggie gave her a small hug. “You’re not a failure, Charlie. It’s just…no one understands your ideas. People think they’re…I don’t know…outlandish?”

She got a sad sigh from Charlie in response. “I just wanted to make things better for my people. I know I don’t feel much like a princess, but at the same time…I feel like it’s my duty…my destiny to being some cheer to this place.”

“Heh. No one can ever top your optimism,” Vaggie mentioned, with a playful roll of her orange eye. “Your happiness can be spotted miles away.”

A small smile formed on Charlie’s face. “Well, at least I can pull myself up and keep going…”

Vaggie stared, hopeful…

“…But today isn’t one of those days.”

Vaggie slumped slightly. “I did warn you not to sing.”

“I couldn’t help it,” she countered. “How else was I supposed to get my message across?”

“Not everyone likes singing and music all the time.”

“My family does.”

“But the other demons aren’t your family.”

Charlie stared out the window at the buildings whizzing by. “Sometimes I feel like my family is bigger than just my parents.” She turned to look at her girlfriend. “You’re my best friend, sorta like my sister…and the only one who seems to get me. You’re part of my family already.”

Vaggie chuckled softly. “Without me, you wouldn’t have lasted very long out in the big world.”

“For once, I agree with you there,” Charlie replied.

During several minutes of silence, the two demon girls locked hands just out of sight. It was their habitual way of showing comfort, and it worked on the many days when Vaggie didn’t want any hugs.

“Don’t get too discouraged,” Vaggie said. “We’ll get back to the hotel and figure things out from there.”

“I kinda feel like singing another lament now.”

“Please don’t.”

“Fine.”

The limo drove past the 666 Shop, the Nightmare Night Club, and an Evil Donuts store, complete with slime and worms displayed on the donut structure. Pink eyes decorated the ceiling of the car. Charlie curled into herself again and took a puff of breath. Even the painted eyes seemed to judge her every move. She glanced over at Vaggie, whose eye was twitching in annoyance.

Angel Dust was busy playing with the button, making the car window go up and down, up and down. He froze when he saw an angry Vaggie staring at him.

“What?” Angel Dust asked with a shrug.

“What? What?!” Vaggie shouted, pulling out chunks of her long white hair. “What were you doing?!”

Angel Dust sighed. “Aw come on! I owed my girl buddy a solid! Isn’t that a ‘redeeming quality?’ Helping friends with stuff?”

“Not with turf wars that result in mass murder and destruction!” Vaggie replied.

“Eh, you win some, you lose a few hundred,” he said with a snicker. “It wasn’t that bad anyway.”

He propped up his long legs and pushed the window button again. Vaggie tossed a dagger at the button, and it fizzed out in a shower of sparks. Angel Dust stared, shocked and terrified. Vaggie growled in warning.

“Aw come on, I had to!” Angel Dust protested. “My credibility was on the line!” He sighed. “I mean what kind of reputation would I have of people found out I was trying to go clean? It just throws out my entire persona.” He lifted up his furry chest for emphasis.

“Your credibility?” Vaggie asked in anger. “What about the hotel? Your little stunt made us look like a fucking joke!”

“No, no no, babe. Jokes are funny! I made you look…uh, sad. And pathetic! Like an orphan, with no arms. Or legs. Uh…oh with progeria!” Charlie covered her face with her hair as Angel Dust blabbered on.

“Great! Now I’m bummed just thinking about it! This thing have any liquor?” He bent down to the floor and tossed a bottle aside. He then flicked a wrapper away onto a seat.

Vaggie was fuming. “Can you please just try to take this seriously?”

“Fine, I’ll try. Just don’t get your taco in a twist, baby.”

Vaggie stood up with hands on her hips. “Was that you trying to be sexist or racist?”

“Whatever pisses you off more. Is there seriously no liquor in here?”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Vaggie swore, crossing her arms and sitting back down.

“Too, late, toots. Wait, would that make me double dead?” He laughed slowly and loudly. “And where exactly do I go? To double Hell?”

He laughed again. “You’re stuck with me, bitch. Get used to it.”

Vaggie swore in Spanish. “Eat shit, bastard.”

“Listen, who cares if some jagoffs got hurt?” Angel Dust nonchalantly asked. “Most of them are ugly freaks. Look around! Got a bunch of fuckin’ harlequin babies down there.”

“You’re one to talk,” Vaggie muttered with a small smirk.

Angel Dust then yelled “Hey!” in protest. “This body is flawless! Everyone wants some of me and I’ve got the creepy fan letters to prove it!”

He pulled out a dirty piece of paper from his chest that read: “Show me your feet! Brandon. #1 fan/critic.” There was a picture of a young Angel Dust in the lap of a naked fat green man, licking Angel Dust with his green tongue. He had a tattoo of Angel Dust with a red crossed out sign.

This time, Charlie spoke up. “That was really uncool, ya know, Angel.”

Vaggie growled and turned to her friend. “Uncool?!” She mentioned to Angel Dust. “After that train-wreck, there is no way anyone is gonna wanna stay at the hotel.” She turned to the spider. “All thanks to you and your selfish bullshit!”

Angel Dust glanced at a discarded pile of ash and used cigarettes. “Does this mean I don’t get a free room anymore?”

Vaggie spread out her hands as if asking “Well, what do you think?”

He let out a mock sigh and snap. “Ah, well, shucks.”

Charlie pulled off her dark pink jacket, revealing a white shirt with a black bowtie.

“Hey, come on, we don’t know if things are over yet. Try to relax, Vaggie. It’ll be okay!”

Now it was Vaggie’s turn to let out a small smile of thanks. Charlie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and her friend calmed down.

“What would I do without you?” Vaggie asked. She and Charlie slowly leaned into each other, their heads gently touching.

“Get a room, girls!” Angel Dust remarked, before receiving a “Shut up!” from both of them.

Finally, the crew arrived at the Happy Hotel. It was a good enough building fit for any demon who wanted to stay a few nights. Eye catching on the outside, but messy on the inside. Eye designs lined the border of a dark pink circus canopy at the front like a creepy mosaic. Branches jutted out from the roof as part of the structure. Old fashioned lanterns attached to the wall had flames flickering inside, nonstop. The double doors consisted of stained-glass windows with red apples in the center. Little stained glass snake eyes peered unblinkingly at them from around the larger window in the door.

Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Charlie got out of the car and threw open the double doors. A random black bug scurried away from the incoming light. A yellow sign read “Concierge” behind a pink “welcome” banner. The check in table was decorated with colored flags leaning toward the floor and random balloons with small star shapes on them. A vase was decorated with yellow eyes along the sides. Another flowerpot was in the shape of a human mouth…white flowers posed above. Vaggie sighed and plopped onto a red cushioned couch in the style of a monster’s mouth.

The red rug down the hallway was decorated with the same eyeball designs, apples on the end, plus shadow skulls of horned monsters in the center.

All around the room, were pictures of Charlie as a little girl with her father and mother on various trips. One picture showed her and Vaggie in front of a castle at Loo-Loo World, Hells’ version of Disney World.

Angel Dust came across a red fridge leaning low against the wall. He opened the door and pulled out a purple box labeled “Popsies.” He shrugged at the dripping ruined box and took out a popsicle. He gave it a lick.

“It’s prolly a good idea to get some actual food in this place. Y’know, to feed all the wayward souls ya got in here.” He laughed nervously, trying to cheer Charlie up. But Charlie just sat sadly on a wooden box in a darkened area of the room. Angel Dust closed the fridge door, sucked on a popsicle and reached out one of his arms to her…then hesitated. He walked away, letting Charlie have some alone time.

Charlie walked past the two posing elephant statues balancing balls on their trunks, and toward the front door. She opened the door and went outside. Holding out her purple cell phone, (or “Hell Phone, hah, get it?”) she pressed an icon with the word “Mom” decorated with horns and pointed tails on the m’s.

Charlie took a deep breath as a voicemail tone came through.

“Hey Mom. Um, I know I keep calling, and you must be busy. Really busy. But, um…the interview didn’t go well and…I don’t know if I’m going to make a difference. I don’t know what I’m doing. I could really use some advice, Mom.”

She slid down and sat on the stone ground, tears falling from her eyes. She wiped some away with her arm. “I think Dad was…right about me. A-anyway, I’ll stop talking before this gets too long. Love you! Bye.”

She ended the call with a tap and rubbed her eyes with her hand. Standing back up, she opened the door, closed it, and leaned against the stained-glass window, eyes closed.

What was she supposed to do now?

A slow ominous knocking from outside interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. She opened her eyes.

Knock. Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock.

It was a rhythmic knock, sounding like “shave and a haircut.”

An ice cold feeling of dread spread through her veins. No other demon would ever do that kind of knock.

Unless…

She tentatively reached out her hand to the door handle, and quickly pulled it open.

Sure enough, the most feared demon in Hell was standing right outside her door, a few shadowy heads with glowing eyes peering through the doorway curiously.

He stood towering over her, wearing an elegant dark red dress coat that had tatters near the bottom. Light red vermilion strips were vertical along the dress coat. His bright red undershirt was decorated with a black upside down cross. His pants were burgundy in color, his shoes black with red deer tracks on the soles. A wine-colored bow tie was over his undershirt. He wore burgundy-colored gloves over his four clawed fingers, with red tips and knuckles. A fluffy red and black deer tail was hidden under the lower part of his dress coat.

It was his face that unsettled Charlie right away. His skin was ashen gray, scars across his chest concealed beneath his clothes. Small black antlers stood on his head between large red and black tuffs shaped like deer ears. The tips of his tuffs were black as where the ends of his red hair by his chin. His eyes were large and glowed red, taking up much of his face. He grinned, showing a wide set of sharp yellow teeth. A monocle rested under his right eye. A red vintage microphone staff was in his left hand. A radio buzz sounded when his demonic eyes lit up. His eyes already appeared to be teasing her, mocking her after her humiliation on the news and her sad phone call.

Charlie’s eyes turned as wide as saucers; her face full of fear.

The man began to speak in a radio-filtered voice, holding up a finger.

“Hell…”

Charlie slammed the door in his face.

She opened the door…

“looo!”

She slammed it again.

The man stood, shocked in front of the stained-glass door, smile still plastered on his face, hand and curved claw in the air.

“Hey, Vaggie?” Charlie called.

“What?” Vaggie replied in annoyance on the couch, hand on her forehead.

Charlie flashed a nervous smile. “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

“What?!” she demanded.

“Uh, who?” Angel Dust asked. He sucked erotically on his popsicle.

“What should I do?” Charlie asked, pulling at her lower eyelids.

“Well, don’t let him in!” exclaimed Vaggie.

Charlie was tempted to do just that. But she also had a duty to not leave any Sinners behind. She took a breath, eyes furrowed and opened the door again.

“May I speak now?” the red demon asked.

“You may…” Charlie replied.

The man held out his gloved hand which briefly glowed. “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure!”

He eagerly grabbed her wrist and leaned his face close to hers, noses almost touching before strutting inside. Charlie stood, dumbfounded, her hand still out.

Alastor was born Creole in New Orleans around the early 1900s. He was very close to his African American mother who taught him how to cook, sew, dance, and do voodoo rituals. In contrast, his white Christian father hardly paid any attention to him. Although, his father did teach him how to hunt and do taxidermy. Alastor as a human had brown skin, short brown hair and brown eyes, glasses, a bright smile always on his face.

Alastor was different from many kids his age. He dreamed of playing in a jazz band and performing on stage... and did so for a period of time. But being a man of color, he had it difficult since the beginning. He applied for music and radio jobs, always being turned down and shooed away. Racist remarks became daily background noise, almost impossible to ignore. Alastor’s father would frequently give him black eyes and harsh beatings. Several tragic events happened, including his father raping him and beating his mother. He almost sent Alastor to rot away in an asylum. When his mother died during the Spanish Flu of 1918, he was devastated…he was even forced to bury her himself.

Alastor eventually became a radio host and serial killer. After his father threatened to divorce the family, Alastor killed him with a gun and ate his remains. Alastor mostly killed men who were racist or were criminals. Knives, axes, guns, he used them all. He made a vow to himself to not harm women or children when possible. After killing off several higher ups, he managed to form his own radio studio and became the most famous radio host in Louisiana. Jambalaya, deer meat, black coffee…and human flesh were always on his menu.

Alastor basked in his fame and wealth, even meeting blonde dapper performer Mimzy, who was head over heels for him. But Alastor didn’t want to be tied down to anyone. On the air, he would talk about the murders, play jazz music and tell dad jokes. “Your Never Fully Dress Without A Smile” was his favorite song to play. Alastor enjoyed the Stock Market Crash of 1929, but soon found himself running out of food. Thus, he resorted to cannibalism for survival. No one suspected him until 1933. He got bitten by a rabies dog and ran through the woods. Alastor soon died a brutal death after being shot in the head by a hunter and mauled by police dogs at the same time.

“Excuse my sudden visit,” he told Charlie, “but I saw your fiasco on a picture show and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance!” Clapping sounds came from the microphone. He raised his arms before walking forward. “Why I haven’t been that entertained since the Stock Market Crash of 1929!”

He bobbed his head side to side and burst into laughter. “So many orphans!”

“Stop right there!”

Vaggie suddenly pointed a spear weapon at him, Alastor freezing like a deer in the headlights. She swore in Spanish under her breath. “Rabies son of a bitch! I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show bastard!”

Angel Dust peeked around the corner to see what was going on.

Alastor merely chuckled slightly and nudged the weapon away with his fingers.

“Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

He added in a low creepy tone, his mouth not moving, “I would have done so already.”

His red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials as radio static filled the room. He tilted his head slightly, letting his chaotic magic roam. Vaggie and Charlie were frozen in fear as they caught glimpses of red Voodoo symbols, static, and warped reality.

Then just as quickly, the noise and magic ceased and Alastor shook his head, eyes back to full red. His eyes had briefly been black with red pupils.

“No, I’m here because I want to help!” He bowed.

Charlie was sure she hadn’t heard him right.

“Say what now?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Help!” he responded with another laugh. He held up his microphone staff.

“Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

He tapped it and a glowing red eye appeared in the center.

“Well, I heard you loud and clear!” the microphone responded in a radio voice, eye shaking in fear.

“Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

Alastor appeared behind the demon girls, hands on their backs, switching from a shadow to his regular self. Both Vaggie and Charlie flinched.

“With…” he mentioned in an imitation of Charlie’s higher voice…

“…this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do!” finishing in his normal voice. “This hotel!”

Charlie could hear the call bell ding twice on the table, even though no one was there to ring it.

“I want to help you run it.”

“Uh…why?” Charlie asked, confused.

Alastor laughed again. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom!”

He curled up his fingers before dramatically putting his hands up to his cheeks. He then moved off to the side. “I’ve lacked inspiration for decades!”

He placed his elbow on an annoyed Vaggie’s head, tilting his head on hers. Then he shoved the moth demon aside.

“My work became mundane, lacking focus…aimless! I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!”

He laughed again, tilting his head back.

Charlie looked downcast as Vaggie stood up with a scowl. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?”

Alastor laughed again. “It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion! After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!”

He smiled and titled his head, after making crawling motions with his fingers.

Charlie brightened a bit. “So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

Alastor held up a dismissive hand and laughed. “Of course not. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome Sinners!”

He grinned at a glaring Vaggie and Angel who sat on the couch and shrugged.

He continued. “The chance given was the life they lived before; the punishment is this!”

He spread out his arms, Angel looking at the front. “There is no undoing what is done!”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?” Charlie asked.

Alastor smirked from the side and looked at Charlie over his shoulder.

“Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!”

Briefly making a “come hither” motion, he pulled Charlie close to him with his arm and twirled her in a quick dance.“I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure.” His eyes glowed red in pleasure, voice lower.

“Right…” Charlie began, slowly removing his clawed hand from her shoulder.

Alastor took her aside for a walk. “Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I.”

“Ah, so uh, what’s the deal with Smiles over there?” Angel Dust asked Vaggie.

“Wait, you’ve never heard of her before?” Vaggie asked, surprised. “You’ve been here longer than me!”

Angel Dust shrugged his shoulders.

“The Radio Demon, one of the most powerful beings Hell has ever seen?” Vaggie asked.

“Eh, I’m not too big on politics,” Angel Dust replied.

Vaggie let out an annoyed sigh before leaning in close to explain.

“Decades ago, Alastor manifested in Hell, seemingly overnight. He began to topple Overlords who had been dominant for centuries. That kind of raw power has never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his carnage all throughout Hell, just so everyone could witness his ability. Sinners started calling him The Radio Demon. (As lazy as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing’s for sure: He’s an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we cannot risk getting involved with, unless we want to end up erased.”

Flashes of Alastor in his full demon form, a giant red wendigo-like being with branching black antlers, glowing red eyes, a long lavender tongue, sharp teeth, and long dark claws, appeared on screen. He grinned as he hovered his claws over the demonic faces of voodoo imps and minions. His dress coat revealed a flaming hole where screaming demons struggled to escape.

“Ya done?” Angel Dust asked with a snicker. “He looks like a strawberry pimp!”

Alastor conjured his staff into his hand with a smug look.

“Well, I don’t trust him!” Vaggie exclaimed.

To be fair, do you trust any man? Any men? Men?” Angel Dust asked with a slight laugh.

Vaggie ignored him and walked up in front of her friend.

“Charlie, listen to me. You can’t believe this creep! He isn’t just a happy face! He’s a dealmaker, pure evil! He can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do.”

“I…” Charlie began. “…we don’t know that. Look…I know he’s bad, and I know he probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in.”

Alastor stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucifer dressed in a white suit, Lilith in a dark purple dress, and Charlie as a little girl wearing a brown and white dress in the middle. The picture border consisted of branches and yellow eyeballs and a dried rose in the upper right-hand corner.

“Just trust me,” Charlie added, placing comforting hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

Charlie,” warned Vaggie, “Whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

From a distance, Alastor opened up the palm of one hand, claws curled. Both girls glanced in his direction, worry on their faces.

“I’ll have these two in the palm of my hand…” thought Alastor.

“Don’t worry,” Charlie replied to Vaggie with a chuckle. “I picked up one thing from my Dad…”

She spoke in a manly voice as she walked away, “’Ya don’t take shit from other demons!’”

Gathering her courage, Charlie marched over to the Radio Demon.

“Ok, so…Al. You’re sketchy as hell, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t.”

Red Voodoo symbols to bind the prepared deal appeared around a grinning Alastor, then vanished. Charlie glanced back at him with narrowed eyes.

Charlie continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.” She emphasized with a brief wiggling of her fingers.

Alastor twirled his cane and held out his right hand. “So, it’s a deal then?”

Flashes of eerie green light surrounded the two, electricity snaking up the walls. Shadows swirled around the room, and everyone covered their faces at the force of the wind.

“Nope!” Charlie yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped and light returned to the room. “No shaking! No deals! I…hmm…”

Charlie decided to try another approach.

“As princess of Hell, and heir to the throne, I uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel, for a long as you desire.”

A moment of pause…

“Sound fair?” she asked.

“Hmm…Fair enough.” Alastor shrugged before he strolled away, his cane vanishing. Charlie's verbal agreement had allowed him instant freedom to pursue his mischievous schemes. It would be a treat to eventually break Charlie down...then she'd have to accept his deal.

“Cool beans.” Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and even did a thumbs up.

Alastor stopped and spotted Vaggie off to the side. He smirked in a way outside observers would describe as lecherous. He tickled her under her chin with a finger.

“Smile, my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

Alastor hummed happily on his way, while Vaggie growled in disgust and rage.

“So…where is your hotel staff?” Alastor asked Charlie, leaning in.

“Uh, well…” Charlie began. Alastor peered at a glaring Vaggie through his monocle. “Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that.”

He strode over towards Angel Dust.

“And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

Angel Dust grinned. “I can suck your dick!”

A screech was heard as Alastor stared in shock and revulsion.

“Ha! No.” Alastor deadpanned.

“Your loss,” Angel Dust said with a grin. Alastor summoned his staff again.

“Well, this just won’t do!” Alastor exclaimed. “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!”

Alastor snapped his fingers and a fire sparked to life in a small circular fireplace. Animal skeletons decorated either side of the wall, fully repaired.

A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

Alastor walked over and picked up the ashen creature with his hand. A large single yellow eye was revealed. Angel Dust, Vaggie, and Charlie peered at the creature. In a puff of smoke and a squeak, the creature revealed herself. A cute cyclops girl was wearing a dark pink skirt with a poodle on the front, and a white shirt with pink paint stains. Her hair was magenta and short with a streak of yellow. White spots were on the left side of her skirt. Her single yellow eye took up most of her face.

“This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduced with a smile, before dropping her. The girl landed on her feet.

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” she greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” She laughed slightly as her pupil grew smaller, darting in circles.

“Why are you all women?” she asked. She darted over and lifted Charlie up before putting her down. Vaggie growled, aiming her spear at the newcomer.

“Are there any men here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude.” She missed the fact that Alastor and Angel Dust were male, for obvious reasons.

“Oh man, this place is filthy!” she exclaimed, running around and lifting up couch cushions. “It really needs a ladies’ touch, which is weird, because you’re all women, no offence.” She chewed on a black spider she found, then rushed toward some stained-glass windows.

She darted around, using a dust ruffle to clean them, removing spider webs. “Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…Nope!”

Niffty raced around, removing cobwebs, then poked at a piece of a voodoo doll. Well, it was actually a blue beetle doll that Alastor had stabbed with a clothing pin for her to play with. Niffty turned and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, a dirty rat!” She dashed over, scooped up the dark grey creature and popped it into her mouth rapidly. Rows of her sharp teeth were visible. Strained squeaks mingled with rapid chewing sounds. “I bet there’s tons of them under this place, I’ll be sure to get more! I can kill dozens of them in a day!”

Alastor looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief. Niffty had been a Japanese chimney sweeper woman who died in a fireplace in the 1950s.

Meanwhile, at a casino, a cat demon placed a joker, an ace, a 2, and a fourth card down on the table. He had black and white fur, a fluffy chest, wore a black top hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. He also had long red eyebrows and wore a large red bow tie.

“Ha!” he declared in triumph. “Read ‘em and weep, boys!”

He suddenly felt himself being forcefully pulled out of the room through space and time.

“Full…whoa!”

He ducked as a curtain of red energy surrounded the existing space. Voodoo symbols flashed in the background along with eight yellow eyes, a creepy voodoo skull and a purple skeleton of a worm-like creature. Another voodoo skull with horns appeared for a moment not too far from tan ghost-like spirits with creepy faces and a row of jagged teeth.

The cat demon figured he must have had too much booze to drink.

“…the hell?”

As the images faded, he soon found himself at the hotel bar, not in the previous room at the casino. A large “Come and Play Blackjack” sign took up much of the wall behind him. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. He was sitting in a portion of the casino he was in. It felt like he was in a house with no roof, surrounded by the outside world.

“What the fuck is this?”

He glared at the group and then saw Alastor, pointing an accusing claw.

“You!”

“Ah, Husker, my good friend!” Alastor cheerfully greeted as audience claps came from the microphone. “Glad you could make it!”

Alastor’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When he moved it, it was revealed to be an antler skull with glowing green eyes hanging in the background. Snakes were wrapped around one of the pillars supporting a bar stand. “Big Booze,” “Welcome” and “Big Soul” signs were placed overhead on the stand. Neon green card suits consisted of the designs at the bottom of the stand.

Husk had been born in Nevada and grew up in a casino. He enjoyed gambling, drinking, money, and magic shows. He had died at age 75 in the 1970s via drinking overdose.

“Don’t you “Husker” me, you son of a bitch!” Husk spat, swiping Alastor’s hand away from his shoulder. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!”

Husk stared in anger as the stacks of money and chips on the table vanished in static.

“Good to see you too!” added Alastor.

Husk face palmed. “What the fuck do you want with me this time?”

Alastor grabbed hold of him in a side hug, startling him so much that cards fell from his hands.

“My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that’s okay.”

Husk was taken aback. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

“Hmm. No, I don’t think so!” Alastor replied.

Husk shoved the Radio Demon off him, the latter casually dusting off his red sleeves. He puffed up his black and white fur in anger, his cat ears twitching. “You thought it would be some kind of big fuckin’ riot just to pull me outta nowhere? You think I’m some kinda fuckin’ clown?”

“Maybe,” Alastor grinned.

Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

“I ain’t doin’ no fuckin’ charity job,” Husk protested.

Alastor appeared next to him, startling the cat. “Well, I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment.”

He pointed toward the bar stand with the staff as clapping was heard again.

“With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

Alastor spread the corners of Husk’s mouth upward into a demonic smile of yellow teeth. Husk frowned seconds after Alastor let go of his mouth.

“…this job was made for you!”

Alastor strutted over toward the bar stand, the soles of his black shoes revealing red hoof prints as he walked.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Alastor continued, “I can make this more welcoming…if you wish.”

With a curve of his fingers, a green bottle of cheap booze appeared on the counter.

Husk stared with wide eyes, suddenly very thirsty. He swore he could hear the sound of a slot machine.

“What, you think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” He took the bottle in anger. “Well you can!”

He immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

“Too easy,” thought Alastor.

By this time, Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggie rushed toward the bar, furious.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” yelled the moth demon. “No, no bar, no alcohol. This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of…brothel, man-cave!”

Angel Dust lunged himself into her, knocking her to the floor.

“Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this.” He pointed at Husk with multiple gloved fingers.

He slid up to Husk. “Hey,” he said in a flirtatious voice.

“Go fuck yourself,” Husk deadpanned, drinking his booze.

“Only if you watch me,” Angel Dust retorted, with a sway of his butt and hips.

To make matters worse for Husk, Charlie leaned in close to him, excitement and red stars in her eyes.

“Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!”

“I lost the ability to love years ago,” Husk replied, gulping down more booze.

Alastor walked in, an ever-present grin on his face.

“So, what do you think?”

Charlie ran over to him. “This is amazing!” she beamed, rubbing her cheeks. Alastor blinked rapidly in appreciation.

“It’s okay,” Vaggie grumbled from nearby, arms crossed.

Alastor laughed and pulled the two girls close to him. “This is going to be very entertaining!” His laughter was mixed with old radio sounds and static.

Alastor conjured fire in his hand…Charlie stared in wonder at the flames and the voodoo symbols. He pushed Vaggie aside and changed his attire.

He soon wore a fancy red suit with a white undershirt and a black bow tie. A red top hat appeared on his head, complete with small spikes along the black band and two needles sticking out from the top. He twirled Charlie around in a dance, the princess looking stunned. Pointing his finger over her head, he transformed Charlie’s outfit. Her blonde hair was now short and wavy. She wore an elegant black and pink dress, black gloves, a pink hat with a small black bow and black heels. She looked like a dapper lady from the early 20th century. The bottom half of her dress was pink, while her round hat was mostly the same color.

Charlie stared at her conjured clothing in amazement.

Vaggie was on the floor, fuming.

Alastor picked Charlie up and threw her into the air. She yelped in delight and landed gracefully next to him. Two glowing apples and a skull with deer horns flashed in the background.

Reality had been altered to the Radio Demon’s liking. The entire room was lit in psychedelic colors. Voodoo symbols and shapes were etched in every nook and cranny, including a pair of pink claws reaching for the door. Alastor and Charlie waltzed in the spotlight as electro swing music began to play in the distance. The all-encompassing noise, though, was the signature radio-static sound.

Alastor sang his reprise to Charlie:

“You have a dream You wish to tell And it’s so laughable But hey kid, what the hell!”

Charlie found herself sliding down what was the staircase moments ago. Alastor led the way as they held hands. They landed on the lower floor as Alastor continued his reprise. Deer statues and painted antlers were everywhere.

Back at the bar stand, Husk sat looking bored. Vaggie hissed at Angel Dust grabbing onto her shoulder, while Niffty stared in wonder. Alastor snapped his fingers and their outfits changed as well.

Angel was wearing a neon pink suit, Husk a pink bow tie, Vaggie a dark dress, with her hair now smooth and long, and finally Niffty, with a dress and a cute top hat with small flowers.

“‘Cause you’re one of a kind A charming demon belle! Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell (Take it, boys!)”

Alastor snapped his fingers once more and shadowy imps rose to life from a hole in the ground. The happy spirits played a trumpet, a tuba, and a drum set. Charlie snapped her fingers to the beat, while Vaggie watched with worry. She reached out to her friend but was pulled away by Alastor. He enveloped the group into a tight hug, followed by glowing images of dark spirits staring at them. While Husk, Vaggie and Angel Dust looked on in terror, Niffty watched in amazement, like she had seen it all before.

Alastor pulled Husk and Angel Dust close again. He rubbed Angel Dust’s head with a white hat and went on his merry way. He pulled a strand from one of Husk’s red eyebrows. Husk flipped him the bird as he left.

Vaggie stood, annoyed in the spotlight. Using his cane, Alastor added a feathered peacock hat and a white fox fur scarf to her outfit. Then out of nowhere, he slapped her butt.

“Pompous pervert!” Vaggie thought in rage as he wandered away with a smirk, throwing down her hat. Alastor danced some more, kicking a horned skull to the side. In the background, Niffy happily swept up the bits of bone.

“Inside of every demon is a lost cause But we’ll dress ‘em up now with just a smile! (With a smile!) And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool With some old redemption flair And show these simpletons some proper class and style! (What’s in style? Oh!)”

He made his way to the circular fireplace, where he waved his staff. Shadows arrived to join the party, including a shadowy version of himself, with large antlers and fangs: Rotsala. The shadow grinned a blue grin at him, before making it disappear in a poof. He then led Charlie in an upbeat dance, spinning her around, helping her match her steps to his. Their noses almost touched. Charlie blushed when he toyed with her cheeks. As Charlie was led away, Vaggie stood in the background, horrified and disgusted. What was happening to her friend?

Charlie and Alastor laughed as they danced, the princess locked in a happy trance. She could almost see the sparkling romantic themed bubbles in the background.

“Here below the ground I’m sure your plan is sound! They’ll spend a little time Down at this Hazbin Ho…”

Alastor was about to finish his song, when an explosion burst apart a window behind him. The force caused the door to blow off and fly straight into little Niffty’s face, sending her flying back. “Ow! I’m okay!” she called from a distance.

Soon the colors were back to normal and so were everyone’s outfits. The group peered out from the hole, Alastor craning his neck. The group went out onto the path and spotted a flying blimp. Sir Pentious poked his head out from an opening in the ship, fangs bared.

“Ha!” the snake inventor laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak!” he called, mentioning to the white spider demon. “We meet again, Alastor!”

Alastor merely asked with a smug look, “Do I know you?”

Sir Pentious’ face fell before he grew angry. “Oh yes you do!” He slithered back into his seat. “And this time I have the element of…surprise!”

He pulled a lever and a cannon lowered to the ground.

“I’m so evil!” he declared with maniacal laughter as the cannon fired up.

Alastor snapped his fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from his hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp. Pink smoke filled the air.

A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

Sir Pentious looked on in shock as his Egg Boiz slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yolk. Sir Pentious and another minion were thrown against the wall.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he screamed before he was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

“Ow, that hurt!” he cried.

Sir Pentious screamed as he was forcefully dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. He was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Boiz ran around frantically.

From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

Red radio waves filled Alastor’s eyes as he curled his fingers inward. The sky vanished, replaced with red. Hovering red voodoo symbols appeared all around him as he altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

Alastor closed his four-fingered hand which began to glow. A red drop of blood fell from his glowing hand. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastor smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Niffty who had a small smile on her face).

“Well, I’m starved!” Alastor exclaimed, turning around to face the group. Who wants some jambalaya?” He spread his arms out before leading the way back to the hotel. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya! In fact, it nearly killed her!”

He laughed. “You could say the kick was straight out of Hell!” he added while laughing at his own joke. “Oh, I’m on a roll!”

The others followed him back.

Charlie and Niffty smiled while Husk, Angel Dust, and Vaggie looked on with concern. Niffty scurried around Alastor with a look of admiration. Angel Dust blew Husk a kiss, which earned the druggie demon a glare from the gambler. Charlie turned to Vaggie excitedly. Vaggie reluctantly went along with Charlie’s idea, even giving her a small supporting smile. As long as Charlie was happy, then Vaggie was alright, too.

From up above, the hotel looked like a mashed-up haunted house. An old dark train was perched on a balcony, with some monstrous faces carved in. A ship, reminiscent of the Titanic, was leaning upwards against the building as part of the structure. An old carousel served as part of the upper balcony and windows. Skull designs decorated the small windows in a row. Finally, on top of a giant yellow eye, was the sign “Happy Hotel” supported by pillars of worn wood.

Alastor continued, “Yes sir! This is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

He glanced up and pointed his finger toward the sign. Pink electricity shot out and made contact with the sign.

The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

“Stay tuned,” he finished with a low sinister laugh.

Back at the crater, smoke took the faces of demons and rose into the air. Broken egg minions littered the ground. One minion rubbed his head. With a shaking arm, Sir Pentious lifted himself up from the gaping hole, fangs shattered, eye swollen.

“Now will you shoot me with your ray gun?” asked the minion.

Sir Pentious face-planted on the ground in response.

0 0 0

One week later, Charlie sat solemnly on a long red couch in the Hazbin Hotel, gazing out the window. There were a few pillows next to her, one with a gold eye design. Her suit and pants matched the red color of the couch, though her undershirt was white, her high heels were white and black, and her bowtie was black. Contrasting the red color of her clothing was her white face with red spots on her cheeks and her long blonde hair in a thick braid. Behind Charlie was a small striped circus tent decorated with strings of lights. A white plant pot had a snake design curled around it. A round sign outside read “Welcome to Hell” and the sky was its usual crimson red. A glowing red pentagram hovered over the city, hence its name Pentagram City. Charlie stared sadly at the nearby city buildings; many of them were on fire, smoke rising through the air. The streets were littered with broken glass, burned debris…and a few leftover mangled demon corpses in puddles of blood.

Charlie was feeling more lonely than usual. Not too long ago, her father Lucifer had considered her Happy Hotel project a failure. He had somberly suppressed his former dreams for so long, he had closed himself off from his daughter’s own dreams. Charlie had further been mocked on live TV after presenting her hotel idea, and her mother Lilith had not been answering her calls. In fact, she had been missing from her life for quite some time. Where had she gone?

“Charlie,” called a familiar voice from behind her.

Charlie turned around with a gasp, dropping the black Sinner’s Key on the couch. In a puff of red smoke, the key morphed into a small black and white cyclops cat named KeeKee, who meowed and scampered off. Over the double doors was a glowing chandelier and glass decorated with a large eye and two small apples.

“Oh shit, were you here the whole time?”

A woman stepped into the light. “Uh, yeah. I was right there,” Vaggie said, mentioning her thumb to the double doors behind her. Vaggie the moth demon, was Charlie’s girlfriend and manager of the hotel. This time, she wore a short black skirt, gray fingerless gloves, and a short red shirt with a black collar and black buttons. She wore a small black collar around her neck and a slightly worn large red bow tie in her hair. Her skin was light gray, and her white hair spread down past her waist, ending in gray stripes resembling moth wings. Her right eye was yellow with light orange sclera and her left eye was covered by her hair, a patch, and a glaring red X over it. She also wore gray leggings over her legs.

Charlie was thankful to have her faithful companion with her, for Vaggie served not only as her girlfriend, but a protector and a grounding contrast to Charlie’s exuberant nature.

“Sorry,” Charlie said. “I get pre-tty worked up after an Extermination happens.” She glanced back toward the window. “Staring helps.”

Vaggie briefly blinked and gave a chuckle. “I know. Don’t worry, I enjoy your moments of quiet. And your moments of theatrics. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Charlie replied, as Vaggie sat down next to her. “Just…thinking, ya’ know? Family stuff.”

Vaggie frowned, glancing to the side. “Did you…hear from your mom yet?”

Charlie shook her head sadly.

“Oof,” Vaggie replied, blowing a bang of her white hair and a sigh. “How long has it been now?”

“Not that long. Only…seven…years…” Charlie exaggerated with a strained smile. She stood up, hands together, moving toward the giant eye-shaped window. “Off doing something important, I’m sure! But this kingdom was something she really cared about. Something I care about.”

Vaggie took Charlie’s hands in hers. “Well, at least you aren’t alone.”

Charlie smiled. “I just hope what I’m trying to do here will work.”

The two women sat down. Vaggie tenderly touched Charlie’s cheek with her hand. “It will. I have faith in you.”

Charlie smiled as KeeKee the cat hopped into her lap. Keekee’s ears had black tips and a white heart in the center.

Vaggie stood up. “All right, come on. Alastor says he has something to show us.”

Charlie froze in place as she heard the ominous tolling of the golden angel clock tower outside. It had a glowing halo on top, eye designs on the tower and clock faces with pentagrams on them. Under that was a giant glowing hourglass and a counter that showed the number of days until the next extermination. Four imposing black Exorcist statues were posed like gargoyles around the four corners under the clocks. Charlie shuddered before following Vaggie.

0 0 0

An old-fashioned TV buzzed with spiky static before showing a red shirtless demon with a spiked collar and bat wings stabbing a red imp with a dagger.

“Well, hello there you wayward Sinner!” came the radio voice of Alastor. The camera showed his hand pointing at the demons. “Do you like blood, violence, and depravity of a sexual nature?” The demons looked at Alastor, the tall red demon posed with his head in thought. “Of course you do! That’s why you’re in Hell!”

The camera panned back to show buildings torn, on fire, and in pieces on the ground near a barbed wire fence. An overturned purple arrow sign with faded round lights read “NO TURNING BACK.” One building part had several purple eyes on it.

Alastor waved his hand and more demons popped up: a female cyclops wearing black BDSM clothing, a demon with horns, four eyes and dragon features, a red horned demon with two eyes, a small, one-eyed brown cat and an upside-down demon shaped like a grenade.

“But what would you say if I told you there was a place to stay that had none of that?”

The screen buzzed and switched to the Hazbin Hotel building. Arrows pointed to Alastor’s glowing red radio tower off to the side. There was a carousel, a Titanic-shaped boat and a “NO VACANCY” sign as part of the decorative structures. A retro theater sign above the front doors read “NOW PLAYING.” The doors were decorated with designs of circus tents on the glass.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! A misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer’s delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar!”

The screen showed Charlie nervously smiling and waving at the camera. Angel Dust posed next to her with a grin, making his pink gloved fingers into horns around her head and his two other white hands into peace signs. The clip shifted to Charlie showing a dismissive Katie Killjoy a drawing of the hotel, a rainbow on the top and stick figure demons smiling on the bottom. Charlie pointed to the sky, while Katie Killjoy narrowed her eyes, a cigarette between her fingers.

“Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you!”

Several pictures, one on top of the other showed Charlie posing in front of a crime board with a drawing of a demon with puppies, a rainbow with hearts and an “evidence index” card on the board. The next showed Charlie with tears in her eyes as Lucifer posed under a red spotlight, apple cane raised. Charlie was then shown posing with an instructional stick in her hand next to a white board that read “1. SORRY, 2. A red heart, yellow stars, pink hearts, and a rainbow, 3. PLEASE, 4. THANK YOU.”

The hotel doors opened and showed Charlie’s flying goat bodyguards Razzle and Dazzle sweeping and dusting the lobby.

“FUN THINGS” spiraled onto the screen in yellow. “Here we offer fun things, such as…”

The camera zoomed in to show the grumpy cat Husk with black eyes and small yellow iris slouched at his bar. He had a black top hat with red trim, a large red bowtie, black and dark red wings with a red outline and dots decorating them. His eyebrows were long and red with black stripes on the ends. His pointed cat ears had a small red heart design inside each. A black bug crawled on the table. “CONCIERGE” was shown on the top of the bar stand and the highest part was decorated with large deer skulls with rows of long sharp teeth among melted white candles. “Beelyjuice” and a beer mug and wine glass glowed in neon colors on the wall near a pool table. There were three red bar stools and the bottom of the stand showed two green 7s and a red apple in a slot machine style.

“…somewhat functional staff!”

Husk crashed his head on the table in a drunken stupor. Niffty glanced at the black bug crawling over Husk, a sewing needle in her hand as a weapon. The cyclops had white skin, short red-pink hair with a yellow streak in it, and a 1950’s maid pink dress with a white lacy center and a black poodle design on her dress. Pink stains were at the top near her chest. Her large eye was dark orange with a black pupil.

Niffty jabbed at the bug with her sewing needle.

“…and twenty-four-hour pest control!”

“PEST CONTROL” blinked in yellow.

“Custom rooms…”

“CUSTOM ROOMS” blinked in yellow after appearing on a dismal bathroom stall, showing a white toilet and red eyes on the red walls.

“And just look at this tacky parlor!”

The main room had a fireplace and mantle. The fireplace was round, with two skeletons curled on either side. A large eye design was in the center of the mantle. Over the mantle were two crossed canes and golden curved snakes below them, making Lucifer’s sigil. Two elephant lights were on either side. The red wallpaper was decorated with Lucifer’s sigil surrounded by six angel wings. The wall borders showed eyes with gold wings on either side. KeeKee was posed on a table near an old-fashioned radio of Alastor’s near plant vines. An old boxy TV stood off to the side, complete with knobs. Angel Dust lounged on a nearby couch, wearing his usual white and pink suit with a black bowtie and high black boots. He had white fur, spider-like limbs, pink dots under his eyes and a sharp golden fang among his teeth. A wooden plank collapsed to the floor, making the cat hiss and scamper off the table in fright. The red wallpaper had several tears in it.

Alastor spoke sarcastically. “Enjoy riveting conversation with our singular resident!”

Angel Dust noticed Alastor and glared, flipping him the bird.

“WOW!” spun onto the screen in bold red with a yellow spiky background. “Wow!” Alastor added.

A drawing appeared, showing the hotel and various signs made by Alastor: “Ship I guess,” “$1,” “DANGER HOTEL!” “SALE” “Best part” (pointing to the radio tower), “HAHA I NAMED IT!” “50% OFF,” “neat.” “NO TACKY CIRCUS DÉCOR! PROMISE!” Several signs showed Alastor’s creepy grin drawings.

“All this, and more at the Hazbin Hotel, your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!”

The screen showed the building sign up on the roof and with yellow words: “CALL NOW! OR DON’T, I DON’T CARE! WE STILL DON’T HAVE A WORKING PHONE!”

The screen clicked off as Alastor tuned the knob.

Alastor with a large smug grin turned around. “So, what do you think?”

Vaggie and Charlie sat dumbfounded on the red couch. The couch had three eyes designs on the top golden frame, the armrests and outside structure curved like horns. Alastor wore his 1920’s red torn tailcoat with vertical pink stripes, a black bowtie with a red center and a red undershirt with an upside down black cross design. He had red long sleeves, black gloves with red tips, and a red monocle near his right eye. His hair was red and black, with thick deer ears pointing up. Small black deer horns curved upwards from the center of his head. His black shoes had red deer tracks on the bottom. In his left hand was his magic red old-fashioned radio microphone with a red eye in the center. His eyes were many shades of crimson.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck was that?!” Vaggie fumed.

Charlie did a strained grin, and held up a finger, trying not to upset anyone. “Uh yeah, one note, Alastor. I mean, first off, thank you so much for making this…seriously amazing…but um…” she moved her hands. “But maybe the tone is a bit…off.” Alastor narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, a wide grin of yellow sharp teeth plastered on his face.

Charlie continued, “We want people to come here. This makes it look…um…”

“Bad,” Vaggie deadpanned, folding her arms. She turned to Charlie. “The word you’re looking for is ‘bad.’”

“Funny. I was going for hilarious!” Alastor exclaimed, craning his neck.

“It didn’t explain anything about how we’re trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point!” Vaggie chided.

“Vaggie is right, Alastor,” said Charlie. “The commercial was to let Sinners know we are trying to help them.”

“Well, my dear, I haven’t been active in Hell for some time,” said Alastor, moving his fingers along his microphone staff. He paced and tilted his head. “…and everyone remembers me from my radio show, the proper medium to express oneself.”

Alastor paced back again and pointed at the TV with his staff, a glare in his eyes. “But you insisted on this noisy picture box of advertisement…” He tapped the TV twice with his staff, “…so I had a little fun with it.”

“Oh fun? You had a little fun with it?” Vaggie angrily stood up, hands on her hips. “Well, this not what we want to represent us! When you showed up here a week ago, you told us you would help run this hotel. Instead, you’re mocking us.” She spread out her arms. “Nobody’s gonna wanna come to a place that a powerful Overlord like you thinks is a waste of time!”

Angel Dust casually raised one of his pink gloved hands.

“What?” Vaggie asked with a glare, facing Angel Dust, and sitting on the armrest.

Angel Dust posed with his long legs in the air before sitting up. “If you’re filming a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?”

Angel Dust grinned, pointing at himself with three hands, holding a beer bottle in his fourth and moving one leg on top of his other one.

Vaggie was not amused. “Angel, you’re a porn star.”

“A famous porn star! I’ll have the horniest Sinners knocking these walls down to get in!” He pointed to his lower regions.

“We are not filming a porn as a commercial!”

“Why not? Sex sells, don’t it?” Angel Dust made a money gesture with his hand. Alastor materialized near the couch from shadow. Angel Dust continued. “I swear, if you film me going at it with Mr. fancy talk creepy voice here, you’d be rolling in participants willing to stay at this tacky hotel.”

Alastor laughed forcefully and then deadpanned to Angel Dust, “Never going to happen.”

Charlie added, “Angel, I appreciate you wanting to use your ‘special skills’ to, um, attract folks to the hotel, but, I really don’t want to exploit you…in that way.”

Angel Dust grinned. “Oh please, baby. This body was made to be exploited.” He waved a dismissive hand and posed. “I got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs, I got the lung capacity.” He laughed, legs in the air. “Oh, I got the legs! The gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff everyone thinks are tits.”

Angel Dust leaned against the armrest. “I could keep going all night, baby!”

“Hey, I have a question,” Angel Dust said to Vaggie. He mentioned to Alastor. “If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can’t he just make people stay here?”

Alastor chuckled, “Oh trust me…” He spoke in a low voice, his eyes glowing red, black antlers branching out, his face darkening, “…I can.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Husk scoffed from the bar. “You actually think I’d be cleaning bottles and listening to you fucks bitch and moan all the time if he wasn’t forcing me?”

“I like being forced!” exclaimed a smiling Niffty, raising her hand from beside Husk.

“Keep that to yourself, Nif,” Husk glared.

Angel Dust smirked. “What? You don’t love being here with me, Whiskers?”

Husk pointed an accusing finger. “Call me Whiskers again and I’ll jam that bottle down your throat.”

Angel Dust grinned, beckoning a pink finger. “Kinky. Come on, keep talking dirty.”

Vaggie sighed. “Angel, let Husk do his job. And no, we can’t force Sinners to stay here. They need to choose to.”

Angel Dust scowled. “I’m choosing to be here, and I think it’s all stupid. We’re in Hell, toots. That’s kind of the end of the road, ain’t it?”

“Well maybe it doesn’t have to be,” Vaggie countered. “Just because nobody has made it out before, doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

Angel Dust put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, whatever means I can keep crashing here, rent-free. Crack is expensive.” Vaggie glared.

0 0 0

Later, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Angel Dust sat together on the red couch, while Alastor sat in a nearby red chair. Angel Dust’s long legs hung over the armrest. Husk’s eye twitched in anger as he glared at Angel Dust’s sultry expression.

Charlie paced in front of the group. “Yes, okay, so, Vaggie and I were talking about ways to promote the hotel, so we decided we are making a new commercial that represents our vision and what we’re doing here.”

“So, we need a camera.” Vaggie held out a hand. “Alastor?”

Alastor smiled and snapped his fingers. In a flash of green light, a red and black 1930’s folding camera with no film appeared in her hands. It was decorated with golden antlers.

“A video camera,” Vaggie glared.

“Hmm.” Alastor snapped his fingers again, and in green light, an old video camera with an eye lens appeared in her hands, with tape and a Band-Aid stuck to it.

“Alright! Let’s do this!” Vaggie said with excitement. Soon, she had positioned the camera to show Angel Dust and Husk sitting at the bar.

“And…Action!” Vaggie called, pointing a finger forward as Charlie watched next to Vaggie.

Husk stared in annoyance at the script papers in his hand while Angel Dust rested his head in one pink gloved hand, elbow on the counter.

Husk pressed the script to his face as he read in monotone: “’Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Can I help you with anything?’”

Angel Dust put a finger to his chin and smirked playfully as he leaned toward Husk. He cupped Husk’s chin.

“’I’ve been a bad boy and I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place…on the path to redemption!’” He pointed upwards.

Husk rolled his eyes as he read the next line.

“’Well, you come…’”

Angel Dust leaned back and let out a sultry moan… “Oh yes!”

Husk glared at Angel Dust. “’…to the right place.’”

“Cut!” Vaggie called. She slouched and groaned. “Okay, Angel, I need you to be less horny if possible, and Husk, can you maybe not have a script in front of your face?”

Husk wasn’t happy. “I ain’t no actor! I can’t memorize this shit!”

“Well, we can improv this shit, baby cakes.” Angel Dust mused, putting a hand on Husk’s cheek. “Rawwr.”

Husk shoved Angel Dust hard with his paw off the bar counter. He shrugged. “Whoops.”

“Husk, come on,” chided Vaggie as Husk guzzled down his alcohol in a bottle.

0 0 0

Sometime later, Niffty was gleefully trying to stab at a four red-eyed black bug with her sewing needle. “Stab, stab, stab, stab!” she breathed. Vaggie went on her knees down to Niffty’s level.

“Um, alright, Niffty, Niffty,” Vaggie held her arm to stop her from stabbing. She placed her hands on her shoulders.

“Niffty. Your line is ‘we have the cleanest rooms?’ okay?”

Niffty stood up and smiled. “Okay, got it! I’m ready!”

Vaggie stood up and turned the camera on, pointing it at Niffty.

“Action!”

Niffty’s smile fell, and she stared blankly into the camera with her large red-orange eye. Her arms went limp at her sides. Vaggie, Charlie, and Angel Dust stared in confusion as Nifty’s iris grew smaller and smaller.

“Uh…cut,” Vaggie said.

Niffty then shook her head and smiled again, spreading out her black arms. “How was that?!”

“Well, Niffty, you actually have to say the line, so let’s roll again.”

Niffty nodded rapidly and made two fists. “Okay.”

“Action!”

Niffty stared blankly again.

“You’re doing great, Vagina!” Angel Dust whispered to Vaggie with a smug expression.

“Cut!” Vaggie yelled, standing next to a red bed. “Alright, uh, maybe we can try to fix it in post.” She folded her arms.

Angel Dust asked, “Do you even know what that means?”

“I’ll figure it out!” Vaggie bellowed. Angel Dust held up his hands. Charlie comforted Vaggie as she left the room.

Later that night, Vaggie slouched in a red chair in the dark, watching static from the old-fashioned box TV.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel…” came Husk’s monotone voice from the TV.

“Urgh!” Vaggie groaned, hands covering her face, camera in her lap. Wanting some peace and quiet, she had turned out the lights, but the glare from the TV wasn’t helping. Her heart sank; Charlie would surely be disappointed at this half-assed commercial. She was the hotel manager, and she felt a great responsibility to help make her girlfriend’s dreams come true.

“If only I wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of asshole self-absorbed idiots,” she thought.

“Seems like you’re having a bit of a trouble there, hmm?”

Vaggie glared at the smirking Radio Demon, who had popped out of nowhere. He looked at her and moved to either side of the chair.

“Ugh, este pendejo (ugh, this asshole). Why are you even here?” she asked in annoyance.

Alastor settled down onto the couch, one leg over the other.

“For the entertainment. I came here because I love seeing wasteful souls struggle to accomplish something meaningful and fail spectacularly, like you are doing now!” Alastor’s shadow crouched menacingly behind the couch with glowing red eyes, extended antlers, and a wide grin as Alastor talked. “Good job!” Alastor added with a mocking wave of his fisted hand and arm.

Vaggie stood up, aiming her camera at him. “And here is Alastor, the egocentric piece of shit that…ugh!”

Vaggie gasped in fright as Alastor glitched on the screen. The screen flashed red, and the camera fizzled out and sparked with green electric magic. Vaggie let go and it toppled to the ground, smoke curling from it.

“I wouldn’t try that, my dear,” Alastor warned in a low radio voice. Vaggie froze, terrified. Alastor’s shadow grinned behind him. “This face was made for radio.” He tilted his head and neck and his eyes turned black with red radio dials moving where his pupils were. Brief static and red voodoo symbols flashed across reality.

Vaggie recovered and stood up again. “That’s it.” She made a swiping motion with her hand, then pointing a finger at Alastor. “I don’t care who or what you are. If you’re staying here, you’re going to make this work, because it won’t be so ‘entertaining,’ (she waved her fingers) to watch over an empty hotel, will it, shitass!” Vaggie stomped away, but Alastor just stood there, hands folded behind him. A plan was conjuring in his mind.

“Fair enough,” he shrugged. He strolled over to her. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a deal.”

Vaggie turned around and sat down.

“Pfft, you think I’m that stupid making a deal with a demon like you?”

Alastor rolled his red eyes and waved a dismissive hand.

“Not for your soul, just a simple deal. I do this for you…” He leaned in toward Vaggie, “…and you never ask me to engage with this frivolous television technology ever again.” He turned around and grinned. “Or Charlie will get to see absolutely nothing.” He turned his head around to smirk at Vaggie, his grin glowing. “Your choice.”

‘Just this once,’ thought Vaggie, pushing down her fear. This commercial was important, and Charlie needed her help.

Vaggie sighed, closed her eyes, and held out a hand. “Fine.” She picked up the camera and placed it in Alastor’s hands. The camera glowed an eerie green as green skulls of magic swirled around it.

“Now then,” Alastor said, clamping his hands together. The camera disappeared and he snapped his fingers. The lights flicked back on. Angel Dust, Husk, and Niffty materialized into the room in green light, with a new video camera with two eyes on top, a round green stage light and a director’s chair. Alastor now had a worn red top hat on his head and a red tuxedo suit, much shorter than his usual one, one red part hanging tail-like behind his back. Vaggie gasped as Alastor’s voodoo shadow minions appeared around her. One wore headphones and held an attached remote. A thin one held a hanging microphone with its pointed tail and a small camera. The third sat in a small wooden director’s chair while holding a white megaphone. The fourth had Xs over its eyes, carrying another hanging microphone and wearing headphones and a worn baseball cap.

Angel Dust, Charlie, and Niffty looked on in amazement as their clothing changed in green swirling light. Niffty now wore a flapper style dress, light red on top, dark red in the middle and light red and straight on the bottom. She wore a big dark orange ladies’ hat with an orange rim and a small yellow flower decorating the top. Angel Dust admired his pink 1920’s suit with a dark pink necktie, buttons on the front, a white hat with a black rim and long white pants. Husk slouched as black and red sleeves and pants appeared on him. Charlie had on a flapper red dress and a red hat decorated with flowers.

Vaggie smiled, standing proud. She soon wore a gray wavy flapper dress, mostly dark gray but with light gray at the bottom. The top had a pink wavy rim. She wore a large black ladies’ hat with a red rim, red flower, a red foxtail, and two red feathers sticking up from the middle. She also wore white gloves. “Alright, everyone, let’s make a fucking commercial!”

For once, Vaggie was pleased with Alastor’s created outfit for her.

After many hours of practicing, pain, and process, they were finally successful.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” Vaggie began as the group stood in front of the hotel with their 1920’s outfits. 1920’s jazz music played.

“Founded by Lucifer’s daughter Charlie, the princess of Hell.”

Charlie waved and posed.

The double doors opened, and Charlie spread out her arms. “Come check in here and see our new cozy parlor room.” KeeKee was sleeping on a table next to a radio.

“Meet our first resident, Angel Dust,” said Charlie.Angel Dust posed. “He’s staying here in the hopes of getting clean and becoming a better person.”

“Still just stayin’ here rent-free,” Angel Dust whispered, earning a glare from Vaggie.

The scene shifted to Angel Dust and Husk at the bar. Husk managed to say his lines without holding the scripts, though he was still grumpy.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. Can I help you with anything?’”

“I’ve been a bad boy and I need a strong daddy to put me in my place…on the path to redemption!” He pointed upwards.

Husk rolled his eyes.

“’Well, you come…’”

“Oh yes!” Angel Dust moaned.

Husk glared at Angel Dust again. “’…to the right place.’”

“In that case, I’ll just check in to one of these fabulous rooms…I could always go for private time in bed.”

Husk looked at the camera. “Have a drink. It’s on the house. Or come over to play cards or whatever. Um…I do magic shows too.”

Niffty appeared in the bedrooms. “We have the cleanest rooms! No trace of bedbugs, dirt, or any kind of mess!” Niffty stabbed at a black bug with her sewing needle and popped it gleefully into her mouth. “Just ring the bell and you’ll have instant fast room service!” Niffty darted around as she cleaned the rest of the room.

Vaggie moved the camera over to Alastor, who just glitched. “Erm, we also have a boat, a kitchen, and a radio tower for anyone interested in listening to music or shows.”

Charlie and Vaggie appeared by a portrait of the royal family. Charlie began.

“With rumors about Exterminations getting worse, the Hazbin Hotel is a safe place where you can stay with your friends and family. Best of all, it’s at no cost! If you’re a Sinner, we can make you a Winner! And with my special self-help program, you’ll be able to pack your bags to Heaven before you can say…”

“Oh, fuck me!” Angel Dust moaned in the background.Vaggie rolled her eyes.

“Charlie Morningstar’s Happy/Hazbin Hotel! Your path to redemption starts here!” Vaggie finished. A number appeared next to “Call Now!” 1-800 – 666 – 6666 or 1-666 – RAINBOW. (Yes, our phone actually works, ignore that other commercial!)

It was as good as it was going to get.

A few hours later, Vaggie grabbed Charlie’s hand and smiled. “Come here, we have something exciting to show you!”

Vaggie led Charlie over to the red couch where the group sat. Niffty sat on the couch armchair. Angel Dust lounged on the floor. Husk slouched in his spot, his chin under his large paw hand. Alastor sat up straight in a nearby red chair, one leg over the other.

“Alastor pulled some strings and it’s about to air,” Vaggie mentioned. She and Charlie sat down.

“I pulled a few limbs, too, hahaha,” Alastor added, hand over his chest.

“Our commercial’s about to be on TV?” Charlie asked, surprised.

Angel Dust grinned. “Yeah, it’s one of my better performances if I do say so myself.”

Charlie beamed, tears in her eyes, hands over her heart. “That’s…that’s amazing.”

Angel Dust put a pink finger to Charlie’s lips. “Shh! It’s startin’.”

The TV screen showed the group standing at the front of the hotel with their 1920’s outfits on. They stood under the “NOW PLAYING” theater sign and the “WELCOME TO THE HAZBIN HOTEL” logo. Niffty stared blankly at the camera, Angel Dust posed with his arms out, wiggling his eyebrows, Husk chugged his bottle of booze, and Alastor glitched in and out next to him.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel…” Vaggie began, off to the side.

Static buzzed across the screen. Niffty clapped her hands, and Alastor sat in amusement as everyone else groaned out loud in anger and disbelief. Charlie’s horns briefly stuck out of her head, and she hissed.

The blue 666 News logo and “BREAKING NEWS” appeared on the screen. Katie Killjoy soon appeared at a desk on TV, with Tom Trench next to her with a gray gas mask for his face. Katie Killjoy was blonde and pencil-thin, wearing a red dress and a necklace. Tom Trench wore his light gray suit with a red necktie.

Katie Killjoy began: “Breaking news in Hell today! We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next Extermination is happening sooner than ever before!”

Three black menacing Exorcists appeared on an image on the screen with “EXTERMINATION” under it in red.

The words scrolled along the bottom of the screen:“HOLY SHIT! THE EXTERMINATION IS HAPPENING IN SIX MONTHS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! CONFIRMED! LEGIT! FUCK! WE ALL DEAD SOON! WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?!”

“Do you know what that means, Tom?” Katie Killjoy asked, turning to him.

“No, what does that mean, Katie?” Tom Trench asked.

Katie Killjoy’s eye twitched, her smile strained. “It means we are all royally fucked!”

The screen then showed the large glowing hourglass. The Sinners screamed as the counter reduced to 176 days. Back in Heaven, Adam’s glowing evil smile flashed in the darkness.

#hazbinhotel

2 notes · View notes