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looselyreadymade · 7 days ago

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Epilogue

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, grief, depression, panic, drugs, violence, MODERATE gore, reader x Alastor, emotional distress, TWO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

Epilogue: For the rest of Forever

Peace talks are difficult when both sides harbour centuries of trauma and resentment.

The first negotiation itself began more as an accusation and blame of each party, vying for who had been betrayed the most. Yourself, Lucifer and Emily became the de facto representatives of communications, acting as spokespersons for peace, Hell, and Heaven, in that order.

The leaders of Hell (except Lucifer) refused to make trips to Heaven for the Treaty discussions; similarly, the highest ranks of angels outright refused to descend into Hell, citing the thousands of angels slaughtered during the war on profane ground.

Satan, Lucifer, Charlie, Beelzebub, Beplhegor, six members of Hell’s prominent royal families, Carmilla Carmine, Zestial, and Rosie had been the leaders invited to attend the negotiations.

Sera, Emily, Michael, Estibus, two Seraphims who didn’t often partake in the court summons, a handful of Cherubim, some Dominion, Thrones and Arch Angels followed suit.

Initially everyone gathered in a neutral plane opened via portals in each embassy, a place which had no furnishings nor luxuries. Everyone had to bring their own chairs, their own notepads and pens, their own food and water for the full day session. It worked, without intending it to; the humbling action of walking into neutral territory, bringing what little you were able to carry in your hands, forced everyone to see each other as equals in the new plane. The highest ranks of each party held no more power than that of their lowest; the entire point was to hear the values of the people being represented, so any and all power play was quashed immediately by you, Emily and Lucifer as the three de facto executives. Which initially yeah, was a LOT.

The four initial meetings came to unsteady conclusions about what each party required for both peace and for the safe space for beings in both realms to meet. By the fifth gathering, the plane had become a little more comfortable, mostly ironing out the smaller details and negotiating laws and rights for beings if they made a new living space to cohabitate as a blended populace.

By the sixth, they were designing the new world.

The Seraphim used their love and devotion to God, combined with their cherishment of all the beings in creation, to forge a planet similar to that of Earth, almost identical in physical construction and atomic composition, filled with natural habitats and species present in the current Earth, ready to be built upon by those who decided to move there.

The new world itself was made to be well within accessibility of Heaven and Hell, though unreachable for many lightyears by the original Earth. It was not bound by restrictions on leaving and arriving, nor on who would stay; this allowed for portals to be created freely and prevented segregation.

It was, to the eyes of anyone who had existed on Earth, a home from home, minus humanity’s touch. Green sprawling lands of fresh grass, fruits, vegetables, trees and bushes, animals and amphibians, insects and fish, clouds and blue sky, predator and prey, all manner of miniscule organisms just as on Earth, worshipping and protecting the circle of life as God had commanded.

Both Heaven and Hell’s representatives were hesitant about the governance and control over what they began to call “Hillichdom”, or “Sanctuary” once it was formed; they were swiftly reminded of the Treaty and the agreements already signed, settling into acceptance and allowing the portals to be created.

The embassy within Heaven established a portal through the main lobby, allowing free access to all citizens, whether Heavenborn or human soul, with guards at the door only to protect the embassy itself. In a mirror action, Hell’s embassy created the portal behind its main desk, arching over the welcoming guide who would answer questions and hand out little pamphlets for how the new world worked and what was acceptable or not. Human souls and Hellborn still had free access; they were just given a little more of a reminder that the new world didn’t function in the same violent and unhinged manner familiar to them in Hell.

You acted as the neutral party, diffusing tension and arguments between everyone, including Emily and Lucifer. As you had spent time in Heaven, Hell and Earth, you were able to understand and reconcile challenges coming from both sides.

The next issue for yourself was working out where you belonged. Heaven felt too prim, too pristine. Hell felt too rowdy, too violent. The new world felt too much like the world you grew up in, reminding you of the suffering it had inflicted in your youth.

The welcoming of the new world, Hillichdom, was set to be in one week’s time, on the Monday, with a grand celebration in each of the realms as a new era arrives.

On Sunday, the day before the grand welcoming, you set up an embassy meeting room. One of the smaller ones to the left of the entrance, with a long twenty-person rectangular table and series of chairs. It felt a little familiar, possibly the one Charlie and ‘holograph’ Adam once met in?

All you did was ensure there was a safe portal space between this room and the private meeting chamber in Heaven’s own embassy, both completely separate from the portals to Hillichdom. Only the souls you specifically wanted were allowed to cross between Heaven and Hell during this private meeting.

The letter had arrived with no issue to each guest, sealed with delicate red wax and the symbol of a playing card adorned with a series of tiny apples.

At exactly two-thirty, the time given to Hell’s invitees, you open the private chamber doors to welcome in the guests. Charlie and Lucifer, holding arms, while Vaggie clings on the Charlie’s free hand, looking nervous. Lucifer had kept his word to keep you a secret, though Charlie had worked it out of her own volition, evidently so by her bouncing as she locked her eyes on your fully cloaked and veiled form. Vaggie seemed none the wiser, still regarding you suspiciously as she held the bouncy princess’ hand. Behind the three of them, Alastor strolls in, eyeing the room with sharp glances and disapproving twitches in the corner of his mouth. He seemed almost offended to have been brought here, knowing he was in no position of authority or power anymore, yet Charlie had left no room for debate when she near dragged him here. He wore his usual red suit, a tight smile and an air of incomprehensible mistrust.

The sight before you made you smile beneath your veil. Your family. Not all of them, but.... enough.

Lucifer squeezed his daughter’s arm before approaching you, throwing himself into a tight hug. You reciprocated, even lifting the short King a little as you held him closer. Charlie barely gave him a second to let go before jumping into the middle of the hug, whispering in your ear how much she missed you.

You pulled back from the hug, holding long floppy sleeves over your upheld palms, silently requesting space. You rotated your wrist, unlocking a portal from Heaven barely a minute before you were due to.

The portal shone with brilliant golds, white and reds at the edges, with a wall of shimmering pearl white in its centre, for maximum suspense. You know the ex-Overlord had a thing for dramatic flair, and this was largely for him.

In stepped a woman in her late forties, wavy brown hair tied in a loose bun with faint grey streaks intertwined in her locks. Her dark skin was marked by barely visible scarring, the evidence of her abuse written on the beautiful Creole woman’s body. She wore a comfortable, modest hemline pale cloth dress, with sheer tights and a series of heirloom bangles. She had chosen to appear as close to when she had last seen her son, for fear he would not recognise her.

She was very, very wrong. The moment Alastor registered the woman’s presence, he knew exactly who she was. He swayed slightly, gripping onto the chair he was next to, his eyes as wide as they could reach, with tiny pupils as he struggled to comprehend her. He trembled, transfixed and unable to move.

The woman smiled, soft and warm, tilting her head in Alastor’s familiar way. So that’s where he got that from?

Tentatively, she took a few steps over to him, offering polite smiles to the others as she passed them. Stopping about a metre from Alastor, she simply said, “Hello, baby boy, I've been waiting quite some time to see you again.”

The squeak that came from Alastor’s mouth was hilariously similar to a baby fawn calling for its mother. He stumbled forward, reaching for her, nearly tripping as his legs faltered from under him. She rushed forward to catch him, supporting his arms as he sank to the floor, face crumpling. He wrapped his arms around her legs and choked out sobs, repeating “Maman, Maman” in words of pure worship. She stroked his hair, his ears, his face as he cried. Freeing one leg, she knelt down beside him, pulling him into a close embrace where his tears fell over her shoulder, his arms wrapped as tight as he felt safe to not hurt her.

The rest of you watched the scene, hearts shattering from the reunion. Not one dry eye remained; even Vaggie was holding her mouth in empathy as tears slowly trickled over her fingers.

You had a little more of a surprise yet to come.

With the portal still open, you announce into it, “come in.”

At your voice, Alastor’s deer ears twitched for a fraction of a second before shifting immediately back to his Maman.

Emily stepped through, followed hand in hand with Sir Pentious, leading a reluctant Lilith.

The cacophany of cries, greetings, exclamations and joy filled the small room, hugs and long-awaited words wrenching every heart. Alastor didn’t even look up, being rocked slightly in the tight embrace as his Maman whispered stories and sweet words into his fluffy ears.

Charlie in particular was beyond coherence, overjoyed by the sight of her first successfully redeemed soul. They cherished each other with praise and embrace, sharing the moment with her family.

Lucifer and Lilith initially held back from greeting, unsure how to even begin. Vaggie, being the constructive one, physically pushed Lucifer into his lover’s arms, less-than-gracefully. The two held each other, but not as tight as the others. They spoke using their eyes, apologies and love and sadness and guilt through each expression.

You gave them time to process, to interact, to heal as you shut the portal. Taking a position at the back wall, leaning against it slightly, you absorbed the harmony within the room; allowing it to flow through your body, filling you with powerful waves of emotion.

Alastor managed to lift his tear-stained face, staring into his Maman’s eyes as he begged for forgiveness for his sins. She shushed him, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed his nose and forehead. “No baby, don’t apologise. You did what you had to. I’m sorry... i couldn’t protect you. I missed you so dearly, baby boy.”

His face crumpled again with fresh tears, insisting over and over that she was the best Maman he could have ever wished for and how much he loved her, how he’d missed her beyond measure. She carefully stood upright, pulling him with her, shifting slightly to rest into a chair. She pulled her son onto her lap, rocking and singing to him as he held his arms over her and closed his eyes.

Maybe half an hour passed like this, rich with raw emotions and blissful reunions.

Lucifer managed to pull himself away from Lilith as Charlie took over with intensely excited conversation, hounding her mother with stories and questions. The King came up to you, hugging you again and asking if you were going to say hello, too. You shake your head through the wafting veil, gesturing loosely around the room, “this is plenty enough for one day, don’t you think, Lucifer?”

Alastor’s head twitched upright, looking to you both as he tried to make out the voice. You watched him, curious. His Maman asked if he was alright. He looked between her and your veil, seemingly afraid and confused at the same time. Lucifer, sensing the inner turmoil, spoke for you; “you got something to say, buddy? You look a little lost.”

He barely responded with a slight irritated lip curl at the King, his mouth in the softest smile you had ever seen on his face. “I... I have a request. I just... need a minute to get the words right.”

Charlie spoke this time, peeking over from Vaggie’s arms, “just say it, Al. Words don’t matter right now, you just gotta open up.”

“Actually... yes they do. I wish to make a deal.”

The room stilled. “A deal? Al, this is a really, really nice moment, can it wait-”

“No.” He stood abruptly, taking his Maman’s hand as he strode boldly towards you and Lucifer. “I want to make a deal. You’re the one controlling everything right now, yes? You have power over Heaven, Hell and this new plane. Everyone listens to you. Well, i want you to listen to me. I want to make a deal, in exchange for my soul.”

Lucifer looked offended by the demon’s demanding tone, while his Maman looked concerned, rubbing his arm to soothe him. Alastor looked to her, eyes tearing slightly as he puffed his chest and put on a confident mask. You watched him, not responding, shocked by the offer made so boldly in front of a room full of people. Lucifer spoke before you found the words. “Listen, pal. You have just been given the best gift of your entire existence, seeing your ma, who has no idea the lengths you have gone to in order to destroy powerful Overlords and murder thousands. You have no right to make demands in this situation, you ta-”

You pull Lucifer around with a grip on his arm, holding your cloaked palm up in gentle but firm demand for silence. The King snorts and side-eyes the demon, but concedes.

You gesture for Alastor to continue.

“Yes... AS i was saying, i wish to make a deal. I’m not sure when i will next be able to find such a powerful being to grant me the near-impossible, so i will need to ask it of you now. I wish for a soul to be brought back from the dead, in any form. But i want her back.”

You watch him curiously, awaiting for him to clarify if he means you or not, bearing in mind Alastor has killed a lot of people, plus his Maman is right there, so uh, it was a little unclear. Lucifer, also confused, asks directly if he means you, the girl Alastor had told he loved before she died. His eyes tightened at your name, pain knocking him from his confidence as he nods his head, swallowing the grief.

Lucifer continued, now apparently your official spokesperson, visibly highly amused. “And... if you get her, what would you do?”

Irritated, Alastor’s response was given in a harsher tone this time. “I am not conferring with you, ‘your highness’. I am asking the ‘Seraphim of Forgiveness’ as they call you, for one single deal, and not a small one. My soul, in exchange to bring her back to me. As human, demon, angel, i don’t care. I want her back.”

You laugh, breaking the silence as the giggles ripple through you. Holding on to Lucifer’s arm as you double over, you have to force the laughter back in order to answer the foolish demon. “Hmmmmm, your soul? I believed i already had it, in less than formal terms. I believe in Christianity they call this sort of deal a marriage?”

His eyes shot open, recognising your voice with a gasp as you continue to laugh, flipping back your veil.

His eyes explored your face, your brighter skin, the glow in your eyes, the length of your lashes, the slight increase in plumpness of your lips, all evidence something in your physical form has changed since death; your soul was still the same though, and still very much belonged to him.

Unable to hold back, you rush forward and grab him, throwing him into a deep embrace as he remains frozen in shock. His Maman let go of his arm and nodded at him to hold you. Both of you sank into each other’s neck, arms, waist, holding on tightly through the thin barriers of clothing as your souls metaphysically danced in joy. “You have me, Alastor. You’re the one who owns my soul. Always have. I love you.”

He whispers back, throat raw from fresh tears, “And mine is yours, my love, for all eternity.”

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looselyreadymade · 7 days ago

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Part 25: As the Angels Weep

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, grief, depression, panic, drugs, violence, MODERATE gore, reader x Alastor, emotional distress, TWO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

POV: The unexpected surrender

Lucifer stood beside Charlie, bracing for an angel onslaught. Multiple blazing white streaks grew closer as Mammon’s grin widened. From the edges of the courtyard, the allies crept in from the shadows, raising angelic steel weapons in preparation.

A crashing noise came from the south of the building, followed by screams and demons fleeing towards the courtyard.

Fizz jumped on Ozzie’s back, unsure where to expect the attack to start from. The Sin squeezed his hand as he crouched, blue flame blazing around his enraged face. “You’re a weak, pathetic betrayer Mammon. All of Hell will know of this, you traitor!”

“Ohhhhh my, my poor fuckin’ feelings, maybe i might give a fuck when one of you cucks dies to angel blades while i get to watch. Now that’ll be a fuckin’ show, ay!”

“Dad, look, there’s a whole unit. We don’t have the numbers...”

Behind the fleeing demons, a string of twelve angels sprinted in from the south side wearing full black, wielding daggers. They spotted the oncoming air support and made their move, zig-zagging between the allies to throw off their aim, stabbing and slashing where they found a moment’s opportunity.

All Hell literally broke loose, blue and red fire blasts compounding with green magic, flashing erratically as the Sins fought. Vaggie held the defence for the imps, blocking most of the dirty tactics thrown their way, catching a few stray slashes in the process. Blitzo and Moxxie drew their pistols, loaded with angelic steel bullets and rained remarkably clean shots at the attackers. One of the stray spy angels crept to the back of Moxxie, ready to make a stealth take down; Vi caught on just in time, throwing a thick black and purple wall of sorcery between them. They exchanged nods before sprinting back into the fray.

Lucifer shielded his daughter from a double-attack from two angels, fielding off the sneaky move with a swirl of flame.

The new angels arrived in quick succession, bearing their angel blades as they assessed the situation; they barely had time to make any movements before a course of Hellfire charged towards them from Lucifer in full demon form. The new unit of angels responded, jumping to the defence of the black-clothed angels and reinforcing the ranks.

Charlie felt the numbers exceeding their own firepower; without the warriors they had last time, even with the extra allies, they were still far too few for a clean win. If they surrender, they lost Hell itself. If they win, not all of them survive.

Two brighter figures crashed onto the stage, catching Charlie’s eye. Preparing for a new threat, she crouched, claws raised, anticipating new fighters.

“STOP!”

The air froze as angels leapt back from their engagements, jumping out of attack range. The allies, panting and confused, remained in their defensive stances, heads spinning between the surrounding wall of angels and the newcomers.

Charlie recognised Lute, feeling a pit in her stomach. She’s back for her revenge. Shiiiiit.

Lute held her hand up, ceasing the attacks and holding them back. The angels lined the walls, surrounding the allies, poised as if to charge.

“I CALL A TRUCE.”

The allies spun to look at her, stunned and disbelieving, still geared to finish the fight.

Lucifer sprang to the stage, flames above his head in a Hellish halo. “What a fucking lie. You want us to turn and run, then slaughter us from behind? Fuck no. We end this, here, now!”

Various snarls echo from both sides. Mammon crosses his arms, Ozzie clenches his fist. No one knew how to respond, or who should make the first attack.

The figure beside Lute steps forward, head to toe in thick white cloth, draped well over every extremity including their face. A powerful gust of wind disturbed the crowd as the unknown angel released their six wings, shocking the allies. A Seraphim? Come to battle?

Even Lucifer stared back, astounded, unsure how this would go now there was a huge power shift. “This changes things” he grumbled.

The figure kept their hands together under the thick white draping, stretching out their wings to full span. Lute took a step towards Lucifer on the stage, making the King snarl.

“This war is over. We are calling a truce. In due time, we will contact your leaders for a meeting in the embassy to sign off on terms. Until this time, we are withdrawing our units. They will not be harmed as they depart, are we clear?”

Lucifer stood, still in demon form, absolutely dumbfounded. Was this real?

Charlie hopped up next to him, holding onto Lucifer’s arm as she addressed Lute. “You have been slaughtering my people for decades. Why would you end this now?”

Lute rested her hands behind her back, adjusting to a formal posture. “The exorcists are under new control. This is my superior. She will be leading the discussions regarding the peace treaty and war truce.” The Seraphim gives a little wave from under the excessively long and floppy sleeves.

The sight was utterly ridiculous. Angels, retreating, calling for peace?! After everything they have done? Lucifer crossed his arms, the flames brightening. “And what evidence do we have to believe you? Heaven has NEVER listened to us, and it never will. We know you’re planning an invasion; you have been gearing up to dominate Hell since we first killed one of your own. I do not accept the truce, only your surrender, if you want peace that badly!”

“Dad! We-”

“No, Charlie, this is a trick. Heaven will never allow this. You won’t even show yourself, coward! How are we supposed to believe you?!” He gestures aggressively to the Seraphim, increasing the mistrust across the arena.

A cloaked hand raises, alarming the allies. Sudden floods of light blinds everyone, the courtyard filled with allies crying out and snarling in fury.

As the light dims, Lucifer charges the unknown Seraphim, hands aflame as he pounces.

In response, at the last second, the new Seraphim charged him too, smashing into him head-on... into a hug? Lucifer’s flaming claws dug into the back of the angel’s neck, trying to claw through what felt like waves of angel steel. The whispered voice made him freeze mid-reach for the angel’s scalp; “I’m so sorry, Lucifer. I didn’t know it was this close to battle. I had no choice but to wait for fate to play its hand.”

His heart skipped as the voice registered, followed by realisation as he noticed the tiny red apples adorning the tips of every wing feather like freckles.

Nobody moved as Lucifer’s hand slowly fell from its curled reach, lowering to the other Seraphim’s waist, leaning into the hug as a solitary tear fell down his cheek. He seemed to whisper something in the cloaked ear before hugging even tighter.

Everyone stood astonished, holding their breaths or whispering to one another. Charlie slowly drew closer to the hugging Seraphims, confused and afraid. “Dad...?”

He pulled back from his embrace, still holding the long-sleeved arms and smiling into the thick veil. He turned his face, eyes glistening as they met Charlie’s. “We’re gonna be okay Char. I promise. It’s time to go home.”

Charlie pivoted, expecting to see the angels still surrounding the courtyard. Instead, she noticed the last trails of tiny white meteors shooting into Heaven.

“They... escaped?”

“They left, Charlie. We’re calling a truce.”

She had no response, her chest aching from the confusion as her dad looked almost lovingly at the figure. With one final hug, the unknown Seraphim stepped back, nodded to Lute and together they cast into the sky, following the exorcists back to Heaven.

She watched her dad’s face as it crumpled slightly, tearing up further. He smiled wistfully, not glancing away from the disappearing forms until Charlie came and hugged him, too. She’d had enough. Honestly, she hadn’t expected everyone to survive this, maybe not even herself. Yet, something secret exchanged between the two powerful angels had changed the entire course of destiny.

“What happened, why did they go?” Vaggie asked, climbing onto the stage with them.

Lucifer looked up from his tight hug, smiling softly. “They’re in good hands. The best. Like they said, we’ll arrange meetings at the embassy to work out the finer details. For now, i could really do with a drink.”

Mystefied, the allies didn’t even cheer. They just quietly followed the Morningstars, bemused by the angel retreat. In all the time they have ever observed the ferocity and cruelty of Heaven, not once had they ever witnessed something this close to a surrender.

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looselyreadymade · 7 days ago

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Writing the epilogue to what has become basically my first small book....

I am not ok

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #reader insert #ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #stories #writing #tumblr writers

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looselyreadymade · 7 days ago

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Part 24: Forgiveness in Defeat

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, grief, depression, panic, drugs, violence, MODERATE gore, reader x Alastor, emotional distress, TWO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

POV: Itching for a fight

Your senses were already heightening in anticipation of a fight. There was no way in Heaven or Hell that Lute was going to let you walk away, not after how hard she’d hunted for you, sending dozens of exorcists to their deaths trying to find you in Hell, just in case that was where your afterlife took you. You had managed to stay under the radar from anyone that would recognise you as an anomaly, hiding yourself in plain sight as you gathered allies in the rebellion. The omnisight had no access to the exorcist’s base, through means neither Emily nor Lilith understood. It was a blind spot that had protected their genocide for decades. You couldn’t have predicted seeing Lute today, on the one day you ventured back into town. It was just reeeaally shitty luck.

You felt the vibrations in the air before the spear managed to strike you, allowing you half a second to drop and spin in defence as Lute countered with her second attack.

Her movements were incredibly agile, both defensive and offensive in every swing. So, she’d figured out to protect herself now she knows she’s not invulnerable. You contemplate how problematic this is as you dodge slash after slash, stabs and kicks, dancing to her footsteps and body movements far more than her weapon. She was predictable; her arm would shift fractionally before her knee bent, indicating a sly upper-cut style slash. Her brows would furrow before she made a head-on charge. Moves and countermoves, you deflected the blade by knocking the handle enough to change its trajectory and dodging where you had time to. The long sleeves flapped uselessly, getting in your way.

You hear cries from around you as horrified onlookers watched their friend being mercilessly attacked, yet not inflicting one single hit back. The street echoed with the sound of steel rebounding off concrete flooring and your muffled claws deflecting the wooden spear shaft. Lute’s eyes shrunk into furious pinpricks as her attacks quickened, abandoning her usual lethal tactics. The new element of unpredictability threw you off, receiving a nasty gash across your rib, high-pitched screeching of steel hitting steel as your protective vines blocked the spear from entering more than a couple of centimetres.

You grab the shaft, still trying to embed itself into your ribcage, and brace your feet. You were going to use the exorcist’s own tactics against her.

Controlling the angle of the shaft, it remained barely buried in your skin, oozing golden blood down your dress as you maintained your fierce grip. Lute was using her bodyweight to try to jam it in further, not understanding why there was any resistance as the spear met the flesh. You growl at her, ferocious and loud, shifting your bodyweight forward with a thrust to knock her back. In shock, she stumbles for just long enough that you ram the wooden shaft directly into her shoulder, pivoting her off balance and withdrawing the spear tip from your skin. You barely noticed the sting, taking quick advantage of the motion to spin yourself into the side of the spear, bracing yourself against Lute’s own strength as you donkey kicked her in the face.

Dirty tactics were abound as you both fought with equal fury. She tried tricking you, tripping you up and going for your ankles as she stabbed, getting in a couple of nicks as you tried to anticipate her next moves. Tears collected in your eyes after she’d stabbed into an exposed spot on your knee, partially hobbling you from pain. Breathless and triumphant, she held the spear towards your face, grinning maniacally. Her moment of enjoyment took too long, too absorbed in her own success to see the flames you summoned before they roared at her, hot and furious as your own emotions.

Gasps and screams as onlookers cowered, a wide circle of onlookers enjoying the never-seen-before one-on-one fray in the middle of Heaven.

You stand shakily, holding your weight on your good leg as Lute scrambled up, cradling a fresh burn on her face. You like that, bitch?

All restraint was out the window. Lute had made this clear; this was to the death. You tore the sleeves from your arms, exposing the interlacing vines of angelic steel coursing over your skin, leading into lengthy talons that were now smeared with a mix of both your blood. Crouching your good leg enough to propel yourself if she attacked again, you spread your arms, curling your claws into a defensive stance, snarling. The sorcery emanating off you made your skin reflect the late afternoon sun, a holy glow distracting Lute for long enough that she lowered her weapon and stared.

“Enough, Lute. This is enough. This war is over. Cease the attacks, call back your angels in Hell. We will establish a peace treaty preventing you from terrorising the human souls ever again, for as long as the freedom of the people remains.” Murmers from the startled crowd, absorbing your speech. “We have had enough. We are more than placeholders in this game. We are souls, and spirits and beings, individual and amazing and so, so unique. No more angels versus demons. No more segregation. I’m setting our people free.”

You take an agonising step towards her as your knee forces you to limp. Lute is frozen, terrified by the crowd glaring at her, supporting you. She steels herself for a last desperate attack, propelling herself from the floor with a violent scream of fury.

Time slows as she charges through the air towards you. Each breath you take feels like an hour. You close your eyes and let yourself fall forward, trusting your body as it asks you to let go.

The sensations hit you all at once as you land on all fours; on the other side of Lute’s attack. Yes! For fucking once, you actually managed to teleport!!

Lute pivoted, unable to comprehend your disappearance, locking eyes with you as you leapt forward. You were summoning all the power you felt from the fear, the exhaustion, the rage, the urge to fight for all of Hell... For Alastor. She hesitated before attempting to dodge left. Too slow. Too late to stop your fist connecting with her ribcage.

Her body flew back, as if shot from a cannon into a building, smashing through the outer wall. She smacked into the internal wall with a loud cry, knocking furniture in her path. You watched from the impressive distance, feeling heat and pounding in the vessels of your fist. Her body folded over, crumpling with defeat.

She stayed down. She’d lost.

You took each step with a limp as the pain shot through your leg, gritting your teeth and clenching your fists to cope. You had to finish this, in the only way you knew how. With mercy.

Step by step, each one bringing its own pain, you made your way towards Lute. You heard shuffling, mumbling; angels had begun to follow, hesitant and unsure as they witnessed your victory. None came to your help. Not even Emily or Sera, who you saw out of the corner of your eye. Wonder when they came to watch. Each angel fixed their stare on you and Lute as you came closer, struggling over the rubble near the destroyed wall. You stumble briefly, composing yourself as tears stung your eyes.

Drawing in a deep breath, you pull your face up to gaze into Lute’s. She’s still hunched over, agony etched into her entire face, clutching her ribs with harsh wheezing breaths, blood dripping from her nose and mouth, coughing occasionally. She watches you approach, pure hatred in her eyes.

Shuffling though the gap, holding on to broken wall as you neared, you sank to a kneel. There was still a good eight or so metres between you, but both of you were in too much pain to move.

“I’m... not like Adam, Lute.” Her eyes blazed as you used his sacred name. “I... do not.... kill for pleasure or victory. I fight.... for my people. For those i... love.” Your breathing interrupted every sentence as pain blinded your vision momentarily. Gripping onto a broken table, you leaned yourself further upright, gulping air. “You will call off the... exorcists... yourself. You will end... this... war. With peace. At my mercy.”

“That’s not how this WORKS!” She screamed, coughing violently as the blood chocked from her lungs, heaving forward onto one hand. “You don’t GET to give MERCY. You don’t GET to fucking decide my FATE you crazy fucking BITCH. KILL ME!”

Still slightly dizzy, you laugh gently with a snort, amused at the desperation. “No... Lute. You... will live... to know love... peace... just as i have.”

Her anguished screams broke into sobs as she clutched her ribs, laying down on to her side. You push yourself into all fours, dragging your injured leg behind as you crawl the final distance to her. Within reach, you let the tears flow; all the waiting, the loss, the fear, grief, everything that held you captive under Heaven’s ruling, gathered in soft ripples of energy into your fingers, shimmering with waves of light from your claws. They looked so beautiful. You pressed them to Lute’s torso, channelling the energy into healing.

The bliss coursed through your body as your healing touch reflected back at you, doubling, tripling in strength as the suffering and hatred gave way to forgiveness. The relentless sting of your knee eased, allowing you to lean more pressure on it. The bleeding slowed and ceased from the many cuts Lute had inflicted between the network of angelic steel. The pounding in your head eased. In turn, Lute’s breathing steadied, blood no longer seeping from her scarred lips. Her arms relaxed, no longer clutching the broken bones, twitching her fingers slightly as the pain softened.

The two of you panted, shallow and tired, relinquishing the fight. Injuries all but healed, all that remained was broken pride and a new understanding.

Lute shuffled herself into sitting back against the wall, arms over her legs, appraising you with slightly open mouth, exhausted but no longer in agony. “Why?”

“Because there is so much more to being alive, to existing than fitting in some perfect plan. Don’t you just want to... to live?”

She closed her eyes, scrunching her nose slightly as if holding back tears.

“I don’t think i know how. This is all i was made for.”

You smiled, seeing the vulnerability as she spoke. “Then let me teach you, Lute. I’m right here.”

She looked at you, really looked, appraising the angel who bested her. “You know... that was the best ass kicking I've ever had. You gonna teach me some of that too?”

You laugh, relaxing in the moment. “Ahhh maybe not. Let’s put the next war on hold for a bit. Speaking of, i wasn’t kidding when i said this is all over. I’m calling a truce. Between the leaders of each realm; the walls between Heaven and Hell no longer imprison souls from being with each other. We have plans, a way to make it possible for Heavenborns, Hellborns and human souls of all kinds to have a place to live, to thrive, to exist in a capacity outside of the rules someone made up all those years ago. Our own governments, our own laws, our own freedoms. A place for you to belong outside of the bloodshed, Lute. Would you consider it?”

She half-smiles, pulling herself up to her feet and offering you a hand. You take it, grateful for the kind gesture, observing her eyes soften as her hand lingers in a newfound trust. “You granted me mercy. I am at your servitude for all eternity. If you wish, i could be by your side, at the helm of battle, or lounging by a pool somewhere. I shall do as you so please.”

“Hah, sounds good to me.”

Two bloodied angels made quite the sight as they walked out into the expectant gathering, hand in hand. In solidarity, you and Lute raised your arms, signifying the end of the angelic war, challenging the high-ranking angels to dare defy the cheering crowd.

Emily embraced you tightly, kissing your cheek and crying with joy. You held her waist, thanking her silently. She fluffed her wings behind her, giving you a pointed look. You arched a brow, checking if she was sure. Behind her, all manner of angels were staring, the expressions of shock and awe mirrored regardless of their place in the hierarchy. Right now, you all stood together as one in the face of a new era.

Bracing yourself, holding Emily’s waist and Lute’s hand, you release your wings to show to your new family.

The doors unlock with a muffled click as Lute guides you through the hidden passage to the exorcist camp, Emily following closely behind.

Climbing underground steps towards a dome, the glass clears way for you to step into the lobby of the camp itself.

It’s... functional?

Business style greys and blacks on every wall, every item of furniture, the palette disturbed by the odd splash of gold adornments. Lute’s exorcists salute her immediately, ignoring the two Seraphims with her.

Walking outside, Lute shows you where her current unit is training stealth tactics. In groups, they practice moves on each other with frightening speed and agility, attacking with the same vicious swipes and tricks that Lute had just used on you. She trains them well; this was going to take a long time to undo this level of indoctrination. You’ll probably have to give them purpose in the meantime, so they don’t lose their sense of self... Guardians and protectors in the new world, perhaps?

You ponder the possibilities as Lute signals the training to cease with one gesture. They respond immediately, marching in sync to line up in front of her, all perfectly disciplined. Lute beamed with pride as she met your eyes, silently demonstrating the hard work she had committed. You smiled back, reassuring her of her efforts being recognised.

Lute gave a speech to her exorcists, announcing the end of the invasion. She informed them of the new chain of command, with Abel no longer being her superior; she introduced you to her angels, bowing slightly as she mentioned your victory and your mercy over her. She took time to introduce Emily too as a partnership Seraphim, not a direct superior but there to help ease political tensions as you navigate the new chapter.

“Our first task is going to be retrieving our agents from Hell safely while we prepare the Treaty. If we-”

All eyes fix on the gigantic beam of green light from Hell’s surface, speckled with black and white symbols.

“Shit! GIRLS, DEFENCE FORMATION, NOW!”

“Lute, what’s going on?!”

“It’s Mammon, a cry for help. He’s being attacked, probably got caught. Shit! I don’t even know what we can do. That war hasn’t been called off there. Ma’am, i need orders, right now.” She stared at you, shaking slightly, alert to a hair trigger of tension.

“We need to get the angels out of there now. Call ceasefire, stop all fighting, extract the angels. No unnecessary bloodshed.”

“HEAR THAT GIRLS? YOUR ORDERS ARE CRYSTAL FUCKING CLEAR. NOT ONE UNNECESSARY CUT. GET OUR AGENTS OUT AND IMMEDIATE RETREAT. NO EXCEPTIONS. GO, GO, GO!”

A wave of exorcists beam towards Hell in vivid white streaks of light, setting your stomach on edge. What the hell was happening down there, making Mammon of all Sins call angels for help?!

“Wait... Lute.... Why do you recognise that as Mammon? And why is he calling you?”

She grumbles, frustrated. “There’s not enough time for the whole story, but basically he’s our cover. We pay him to fleece the sky in fireworks so our girls can get in and out safely, undetected. Until now, anyway. Always with the timing.” She grimaces, processing how different this interaction would have been only a few hours ago, likely leading to a decimation of many Hellborns in the Greed ring if they took on her angel army.

“Right... yeah, we need to discuss that little gem of information later, fine. Right. Clever, but fucking Hell.” You puff out your cheeks, barely registering the bombshell of information that would have been really fucking useful well over a year ago. “We need to go too, Lute. Not you Emily, no offence. But i need to be there to stop the demons, and you need to be there to extract the agents without bloodshed. We stand together, okay?”

She nods firmly. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Uhhhh... shit i actually don’t know how to fly. Hey Em, how hard is it with six wings compared to two?”

She laughs, enjoying the sudden change of tone. “It’s way easier, just use the muscles a little slower than the other angels, they’re a lot more powerful in the air. And try to stick the landing, or you’ll make a terrible first impression.” She winks, having fun at your expense.”

“Yeah, superb, thanks, you useless oversized pigeon. ANYWHO. Flying. Right. Flap flap; we can do this.” Quick deep inhale, take a few steps at a run and you force your wings down, projecting you into the sky at incredible speed.

Lute forces herself to catch up, laughing at your instability as you try to figure out which muscle moves which wing. “It’s not easy, literally my first time! In the nicest way, fuck off!”

She laughs, twirling around you, showing off. “Use it like a glide rather than a flap! You’re already in the air, you don’t need to keep accelerating!”

“uhhh, like thi-”

“HAH”

Lute loops under you as you accidentally dive mid-flight, flapping with comical desperation to regain the control.

“Yeah you know what just keep flapping, just a bit slower. I’ll give you some lessons when we get back, eh boss?”

“.... yes please.”

“We’re going down there, you see the biggest orange and green patch of lights? That’s the venue. The angels usually stick to the edges to avoid detection, but in our case we’re going straight into the middle. You know how to stop?”

“Bitch i don’t even know how i started!”

She chuckles at your panicked expression. “When you get close, try to spread your wings out against the wind, use them like a parachute. You can flap, but really gently.”

“From what angel does yonder flap.... you sound like a goddamn fortune cookie, Lute. If i start spiralling or looking like I'm about to crash, can you just kick me so i roll a little before i hit the ground? Might break less bones that way.”

“No problem, boss, i could do it anyway if you like?”

You flip her the most majestic mid-flight bird you can manage.

She points to the arena, where a mass of rainbow colours are becoming visible along with the figures of white and reds and greens flashing in a fight. Startled, you ask, “Oh Hell, i thought they were supposed to be extracting, not fighting?!”

“Something must be going wrong... hey, will it make it worse or better if they see you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if they’re fighting a death match and see you with me, would they think you’ve been kidnapped and indoctrinated into Heaven’s regime?”

“I meaaaaaan.....”

“Fuck off, you know what i mean. If they see you, realise you’re alive, would that bring on another bigger battle?”

“You’re probably right. Hey, can you just, uh, fly over me, hold my shoulders steady or something while i change?”

“What do you mean change?! You’re in mid-flight!”

“Just trust me, we’re nearly there and i don’t have time to pull over!”

Lute swoops above you, tightly grabbing your waist between your wings as you close your eyes and picture a full-body white cloak and thick veil, hiding anything vaguely identifiable, snapping your fingers to trigger the uniform change.

The veil was a little too thick; you flick your head to release your face as you career towards the rapidly approaching ground, spreading your wings into a makeshift parachute while Lute continues to rocket into a superhero landing. Yours was far less graceful, as she watches you dive a little with unsteady wings into the back of the stage, face over her hands in embarrassment. She pulls you up, covers you with the veil, and pulls you across to interrupt the fighting at the edge of the stage.

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #radio demon #reader insert #alastor #alastor x reader #lute hazbin #emily hazbin hotel #sera hazbin hotel #seraphim

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looselyreadymade · 7 days ago

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Part 23: The World through their Minds

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, grief, depression, panic, drugs, violence, MODERATE gore, reader x Alastor, emotional distress, TWO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

POV: through the individual’s eyes

Alastor:

Each night brought a new dream. Primarily to do with her, but also other interesting imagery that normally would never have otherwise crossed his mind. Vivid scenes of cities he had never explored on Earth, music he had never heard, foods he had never tasted, faces he had never known. The dreams were entirely devoid of cruelty and torture, the life essence which had spurred him since childhood. No significant event triggered the sudden change; he had tried over the last couple of weeks to draw information from the Hazbin Hotel staff, the only demons who ever came near him voluntarily. None of them admitted to the invasion of his mind; he could tell they were heartily shocked with his sudden... invigoration.

Each morning he would hunger, seeking out the nutrition he had lacked for weeks if not months. The fridges stocked enough to satisfy him for now. The dreams stoked a long-dead fire within his belly, ashen coals crackling with new life. The itch in his hand as it would unconsciously seek his cane, or to hold the handle of a blade. He yearned for the relief to watch the abhorrent monsters in Hell to beg, to scream and bargain, bleeding out slowly under his gaze. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck. He would find a way, deal or not.

He tested how a few blades felt in his hands; the weight would seem off, the slash not quite balanced, a slight kick when momentum was lost. This would not do. For the first time in decades, Alastor tucked a small weapon for self-defence in his waistband and went shopping.

The first stop was Carmilla’s. He sauntered across Hell’s streets, closed-lip smile and all the confidence in his stride that he used to carry as the Radio Demon. He played the part, the vulnerability below stifled and silenced. The lift had already opened its doors at his approach; the Overlord must have noticed him coming.

At Carmilla’s office, she held his steady gaze, reproachful.

“Alastor. I trust you have interesting information for me, or even something of value to offer, given your devoid state of power. Dare i ask what has brought you here?”

“Hmmm... you probably should, dear, given the current state of affairs we dwell in. I assume the Overlord meetings have been as... stagnated as the rest of Hell’s war efforts?”

She huffed, frowning. “We are managing fine. Since someone killed our greatest security programmer, we have had to make sacrifices and adjustments. Watch your tone, lest you speak more dangerously in front of me.”

“Oh! I have no intention to offend, dear Carmilla. Truly i am here to help. In my own capacity, utilising the honed skills of a serial killer, regardless of any magical nonsense. I am far more capable of hunting and stalking than even your best trained goons. Might i interest you in a partnership, of sorts? You provide me with tailored weapons, i provide you with artful and unseen angelic slaughter?”

Her eyebrows raise, not expecting the offer. “You are far from helpful now you are so weak, Alastor. One slash in the wrong place and you are useless. Why would i invest quality products in such a mortal risk?”

He smirked, eyes narrowing. “Because, dear friend, you know all too well what a soul can achieve when they have no power to their name beyond physical skill and mental acuity. Might i remind you of the time the Pride ring was essentially at the mercy of a single human? She rendered the entire pentagram vulnerable and exposed, simply for an Overlord disrespecting me. A mind that strong must have seen something valuable in me that perhaps you are missing?”

She turned to face the window, her grim expression faintly visible in the reflection. “You’re playing with Hellfire, Alastor. She had nothing to lose. At every turn that she made each devastating mistake, it was at her very lowest. It has killed thousands, angels and demons alike. The crossfire has been brutale. I’m not certain it is wise to put angel blades in the hands of a demon who is equally as desperate as she was.”

Alastor leaned back in his chair, crossing a leg over the other, irritation curling in the corners of his lips. “I am far from desperate. In fact, you may recall i am still a hotelier under the service of Princess Charlotte Morningstar. The little heiress has shown immense improvement in her skills, especially since the fight with Adam. I have even seen some... preparations that may indicate a change on the horizon.” He sung the last sentence out, cooing at the unspoken promise of information.

Carmilla spun, eyes sharp, untrusting. She crossed her arms and braced her pointed legs, affronted with such a taunt. “You expect me to believe the Morningstars are actually going to make a difference? They have left us to the fangs of angels while sitting pretty in their homes, evading exorcists' blades for many years until the princess challenged the royal courts of Heaven. She too is a danger to all of Hell, from incompetence alone. I may regret asking,” she pressed a hand to her face, reluctant, “but what the Hell is she planning now?”

Alastor’s grin spread, dangling the temptation to the Hellish arms dealer.

“Ah ahhh, you know me far better than that, darling. Now, you have something i want, and i can offer you two things you need in exchange. The information on dear Charlotte’s latest well-intentioned escapade, plus my own hunting services. In exchange, i wish for three curated items of pure angelic steel, fitted for my use only. Unique, lethal. Do we have a deal?”

She scowled at him, disgusted by the weak, pathetic demon managing to find one thing she did actually wish to gain and had no other means to get. Bastard knew his shit. She paced across the room, absent mindedly tapping her fingers to her forearm as she weighed up the offer. There was no soul contract here, and truly speaking, angel blades were not too hard to come by these days; they had been so saturated into the population during the war. It was the gleam in his eye that alarmed her, causing her to resent the idea of placing tailored weaponry into his hands. Demons and humans alike were reckless and unhinged when at threat of death, rendering his ‘hunting’ to be a potential suicide mission. Though she had no emotional connection nor care for the former Overlord, she had to consider the wider consequence of the Hazbin Hotel losing yet another of their close family. It made them more chaotic and aggressive every time. Sloppier in their ranks.

“I see this is troubling you, Carmilla. Perhaps you need to witness what i am capable of before you agree?”

“No. I am well aware of what you can do, both in a fight and with your words. I have no doubt you are still lethal, even without the deal you made for your magic. Will you be working as an individual, or with a team?”

He raises an eyebrow, curious at the Overlord’s thought process. “You do understand that the best hunting is done when a predator is solitary? Using the shadows, the silence, controlling every step. A pack only creates more distraction, more chance of a mistake. In all my years of expertise, i have not sought nor felt the need for assistance.”

“That is because there were different terms on the table, as we are both aware. You had no need for the sorcery on Earth as you were already greater skilled than those you hunted. Similarly in Hell, you took a deal so quickly that even long-established Overlords toppled at your whim. You were never the underdog, Alastor.”

A slight growl in his tone, “I am far from an underdog now, dear. As i have said, i have very powerful allies and an intricate knowledge of the entire pentagram. Angels have neither. Picking them off will be trivial.”

“You’re acting unrestrained and disregarding the warnings i offer. If you are not willing to concede your own vulnerability, then i refuse to partake in your suicide. I suggest you leave, via the delivery doors rather than the street-side elevators.”

Alastor left the Overlord’s headquarters, a scowl masked by a tight grin. Fine, if she so insists. On to his next target.

He met with four further Overlords, obtaining a couple of minor deals for his services in exchange for equipment to supply his hunts. Truly it was Carmilla’s angel blades he desired, but could settle for the other minor deals. The one he refused to go see, knowing how extremely unwise it would be to make a deal with her, was Rosie. Many of the other Overlords also held no interest to him, such as Velvette and Valentino, nor the financial and culinary Overlords. He maintained the confidence in his stroll as he returned to the hotel, disappointed but not dissuaded. He had... other means. Vaggie and Charlie had shown skill in forging the clawed gloves and the chest piece for his little human, he may just have to trick them into teaching him some of those skills.

Sure enough, Vaggie was suspicious but gave in when Charlie’s danced with excitement around the room, thrilled to have Alastor backing their cause to protect the hotel’s clients. He painted it as a picture of concern, that he had seen signs of potential attacks coming soon, that he wouldn’t be able to defend the poor souls. Much to Vaggie’s dismay, Charlie ate it right up, flying through sketches of hidden armour and stealthy weapons to equip him with. He allowed them to indulge their curiosities, creating designs for subtle steel undershirt meshing, even a fine mesh to go under his collar to protect his neck. The weapons they debated were closer to butterknives than actual butchering blades; it took a few hours of careful hinting, gentle nudging and a lot of cunning to persuade the two to make something with a bit more bite, “for the sake of emergency, of course!”

By the end of the week, he had his chainmail fitted into his shirt and two conceal-carry blades that admittedly felt delicate and ferocious when he practised a sidewards-slash into leather. They cut clean through. Definitely useful for stealth attacks, if used in anatomically vulnerable areas. Thankfully, with the form of angels being consistently relatively humanoid, there was less of an issue working out where their vital organs and arteries lay. The final item they made was exactly what he had sought from Carmilla, and clearly frightened both of the girls as they saw it balance in Alastor’s hands. The machete, sharpened to perfection, weighed in exact proportions to match the shift in his wrist as he drew it to his target. It gave little to no resistance when changing direction, pivoting with his momentum like a lover on the dancefloor. Like her. He smiled softer now, fondly revisiting some of the recent dreams. She had starred in many of them, as sweet and beautiful as he remembered. Her memory would survive with him as he purged the angels from Hell and took his power back. As soon as he could, he’d be making a deal for his own soul when Heaven was at their knees. He could taste it already, the lingering rise of his heartrate as the thought of bringing you back to him, soul and body intact, revitalised his sense of purpose.

Sera:

Another argument befell the chambers as the inflamed egos of Heaven sought recompense. Each moment drew further rage, accusation and disrespect. The dissent across their people had remained unnoticed for such a span that it now infested every social crevice of the human souls and seeped into multiple ranks of angel hierarchy.

Even her Cherubim had managed to lack perception during the infestation of doubt and dissent. Their people were challenging the ways of Heaven and vying for entitlements far beyond their reach. A notion, poisonous and vile, had transpired as a theme from the resistant lower ranks; equality.

Such a notion threatened the stability of the Lord’s structure. The very devotion and essence bestowed upon the Seraphim was tailored to love and protect those in their ward; to fantasize about any other form of existence threatened the very foundations of Heaven. Should the order fall, so would the divine home of God.

Raising her palm, silence settled across the agitated room, observing the thoughtful Seraphim. “Peace, my friends, bear peace in the chambers. It is not worthy to our precious home to bring inordinance to our own place of worship. We must heed our own beliefs. The same must be condoned within our ranks; i implore you all to seek patience, understanding and rational decision over your anger. We only stand to suffer further if we fall into internal conflict. We must remain united.”

The hushed whispers across the courtroom held a softer, more positive tone, reassured by their honoured Seraphim leader. Sera held the court for a full three hours, Emily and Estibus at her side in the tense atmosphere. By the call of discontinuation, no verdict had been attained towards their grail. Estibus departed the chambers, phasing into their realm with dismay at the discordance. The Seraphim of divination had not been sought after when signs of revolution had budded in the fertile holy soil. It was far too late to heed the warnings of an old being such as them.

Confiding with her fellow Seraphims and the Cherubims, Sera felt the failure of her leadership blossom into fine springs of revolution across her people. For a second time in her history, she felt the shift in fate turn as evil crept into their home. Banishing Lucifer had only delayed the inevitable, the Root of All Evil still held mighty tendrils across the exposed throat of Heaven.

Roo:

My presence of being is different to yours, you see. I am above the material, the corporeal. I am as much concept as well as meaning, i am existence itself. The darkness that renders the light visible, the lies that beset the truths.

All who see me are blind. All who touch me have never truly felt. My name is in the very birth of all life, feeding into inevitable death.

I prey on energy, the very lifeforce that trickled through a universe as it emerges from the explosive birth of creation, circling and winding into its own fate until it decimates itself whole.

The very enemy of perfection is perfection itself, as no such concept exists by its own right. I feed the universe, transpiring across realms as i touch new life and draw final breaths from stars, planets, realms, manifestations.

I am everything you would consider to be terrible in the world.

I am all that brings you agony and sorrow beyond the grips of joy.

It is my greatest thrill to observe the birth of life begin to appreciate its own being, sensing their own shallow life force in an infinity of possibilities, deepening into insanity as the soul learns to observe their own fragility.

I like to draw it out. To taste the lingering burn of suffering.

I’m particularly fond of the flavour that evil takes in the form of a simple, biological fruit. An apple, ripe and rosy, breaming with twists in fate and destruction.

Would you like a taste?

Lute:

“Faster! Swipe left, draw your gravity right, use momentum to double-back. Fight your comrades as though they are the enemy. If you can harm an angel, you can harm them. They are getting smarter, but SO ARE WE!”

The snarling and slashing between her secondary unit disappointed her. There was not enough fury, not enough bloodthirst. They had skill, but were not driven by sheer rage like she was.

She forced them through two more rounds of hand-to-hand combat, revisiting the core skills needed once disarmed by the enemy.

Ending the training session, Lute sat heavily on the low wall outside the camp. She had three current divisions under her control, with more exorcists being trained up to task. She had two of her own lieutenants that abided her strict regime, enforcing punishment and reward across the soldiers as needed. None had come to claim Adam’s rightful place as leader of the exorcists; even the son of Adam, Abel, had admitted his fear of ruling such a violence force, only remaining the leader by name alone while she held the frontlines.

There were currently fourteen agents of hers in Hell, a far lower number than she usually kept. There was no need for sabotage or assassination at present; they had achieved their own destruction from the inside out when they killed the anomaly.

It was bemusing, watching the Pride ring eat itself alive, leaders turning against each other and allowing their weakest to get picked off. It took time, gradually settling into survival as their numbers dwindled to desperate levels. Many Hellborn had escaped the Pride ring, seeking shelter or dissociation with other factions of Sin. It worked out perfectly, leaving their weakest ring with its belly exposed to her angel blade.

Soon enough, her units would be in position for the hostile takeover. She needed the final breaches of core utilities and deals with desperate Overlords to be made before rivalling the failing ring. Still, it was well within her grasp. She would do what Adam had failed. Her Adam, her fucking King. She would mutilate the one who killed him, that tiny insect demon, stringing her apart like a fucking banner for all her friends to watch as they burned. Under her control, Hell will be enslaved to her will. None of the higher levels of angels would care what she does with Hell, as long as it is kept out of their view. That’s all that mattered to them, keeping their precious hands clean of the blood Lute was forced to spill daily.

She was expecting a message to confirm the interactions between the Wrath ring and Pride’s weapons shipments, assessing the level of resistance to expect when she made her move. Instead, she got a bitch-ass apology from the ugly fuck she employed to cover up her angels’ flight path, telling her about the King of Hell and his hellspawn clocking onto their ‘angel highway’ as he called it. The stupid cunt had no idea how fucking shitty this timing was. If they lost control of this avenue, they would need to establish another one, quickly.

Lute conferred with her lieutenants, strategizing their next steps. They would withdraw from using the cover this weekend, preventing the return of the information she sought, but buying them time to find a new route. This one was dead in the water.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

In the coming two days, Lute stepped back from her relentless training. She needed clarity. And a fucking coffee. She wandered into the city of human souls, eyes down, blade at her side. She had no patience for the pathetic pseudo-angels, wearing wings like they were entitled to respect equivalent to a Heavenborn angel. Pah. Far from it. Yes, they were far more righteous and deserving of Heaven than the cretins in Hell. Yes, they could live here in their little realm enjoying the peace and behaving like this was some eternal reward for being ‘good enough’. They were still tainted by Earth. No human soul could ever be as pure as an angel’s, not since Lucifer recklessly brought evil into the Earth. Adam was the only pure, perfect human soul she had ever met. Her anguish over missing him held her captive every night, praying for a miracle to bring him back.

You:

Each day you explored and practiced the arcane secrets of your body.

Your very own personal Seraphim guide Emily would sit by you, coaching you through the ebbs and flows of learning non-corporeal control.

The only skill that came easily, naturally even, was dream-weaving. You were able to create dynamic, emotion-rich stories of vibrant colours and seamless movements, blending effortlessly into a grand orchestration of senses. All your time as a human, playing fantasies and daydreams as a daily pleasure, all of it culminated in a finely tuned skill for use in the omnisights.

It took time for you and Emily to realise much of your power drew from your emotions; flames were hotter, brighter and spread across vast distances when you were angry or hurt. Your ability to morph your clothes and appearance depended on your excitement and creativity. The telekinesis needed pure controlled calm. You still hadn’t figured out teleportation yet, despite many hours of attempts. You had managed one small jump, barely a foot from where you started, and haven’t been able to replicate it since. That one sucked, you really quite looked forward to not having to walk everywhere.

Sir Pentious had endeavoured to continue his grand city design for a human soul population regardless of their afterlife form, this time more drawn towards the idea of using magic to alter the land itself. He theorised that neither Heaven nor Hell was suitable to hold the truce lands; it may well be best to have another realm, or at least another thriving and non-toxic planet to establish portals to and colonise with the souls.

Interestingly, you found it harder to withdraw the angelic steel than to produce it. Something akin to trying to regulate your heart rate, after going for a sprint to raise it. You could manifest the steel vines with barely any need to focus, becoming subconscious as your skin responds to external stimuli and emotional input; returning to normal skin was far harder and required active meditation, for now at least.

Emily suggested finding ways to cover the vines, rather than putting them away, as they seemed to emerge again as soon as you got distracted. She helped you envision the outfit you wanted to appear on your body, teaching you the quick-flick motions of your hand to summon and shift materials at will. Challenging, but great fun when you got the hang of it. You even started picking out a series of coordinated clothing depending on when you’d need it; stripper garb, cocktail dresses, yoga gear, formal pantsuit, comfy chill clothes, casual streetwear, the works. You also found they existed beyond one single garment; by undressing and putting the outfit into the wardrobe, they would continue to exist regardless of the summoning of new clothes. Soon enough the wardrobe brimmed with a range of uniforms, helping you blend in with each event or situation as you navigated Heaven. It was easier to snap and make the outfit appear rather than twiddle and wave your hands; maybe the excitement behind a quick summon made the effect work better? Who knows, it was working at least.

The claws were a different story. Putting them away made you feel vulnerable, exposed, despite your new-found abilities. While they did retract into normal fingers, it felt wrong, stirring anxiety in your belly.

As angels didn’t tend to have claws, instead having angelic steel fingertips in gloves or attached as rings onto their own fingers, you couldn’t exactly get away with wandering in public with your hands out. You had to essentially step back from your party appearances while you negotiated with your own body.

Lilith was of little help in this whole process, generally offering snide remarks. You got the impression she was put-out at a human soul becoming a being more naturally powerful than herself, the former queen of Hell. The comparison to how Lucifer and Alastor rivalled each other for a vaguely similar power-play situation made you smile, though you tried to hide it from Lilith.

Relatively giving up on the retractable claw idea, you altered a few of your current clothing designs to incorporate very long sleeves that hung well over the tips in opaque material. It looked completely out of place on you, making you appear far more modest and polite than you had been pretty much since you started the rebellion.

Sir Pentious needed some literature to base the agriculture ideas from, as he was gaining more and more interest with the concept of establishing a whole new Motherland for the future truce colonies. Emily had no excuse to find such things, and she wouldn’t be able to sneak off from her recent duties anyway. There had been noticeable changes in the behaviour of the lower ranking angels, Heavenborn and human souls alike, becoming more prominent in the way they advocated for their own choices and freedoms when a higher-up challenged them. They were resisting the control in large numbers, some even holding small gatherings as protests when an amenity was taken from them. The tension was building, simmering beneath the surface, awakening the higher ranks of angels to the unsettlement in their people. Emily, playing her part remarkably well, had to attend many meetings and court sessions with her family to placate the restlessness and pretend to help them work out why this was happening. She wasn’t much of an actress, though also thankfully was taken less seriously than her older Seraphim counterparts, meaning she was not called upon often, if at all. She just needed to be a placeholder at Sera’s side.

You make a note of the books Sir Pentious needed and hug onto Emily’s soft figure as she teleports you back to your apartment.

Lute:

Irritating whispers of excitement rippled through the coffee shop, buzzing in Lute’s ears.

Her meeting with an arch angel went about as well as expected; they were just focused on their ‘heavenly order’ and ‘too busy to discuss whatever was going on in Hell’. They were more riled up than she was used to, probably bothered by a new batch of human souls coming in at the same time. That usually made things interesting for a while, especially if they’re coming from a religious war, tainted by their own self-centred beliefs and ego to fully blend into the holy realm yet. Michael was unavailable, so she’d settled with Gabriel, who was about as aware of Hell’s impending (weak) uprising as he was about having an entire exorcist army right under his nose. He barely paid any attention to her as she spoke, dismissing much of her concerns and offering minimal placations as he studied the human souls on the street. She left the meeting frustrated and overwhelmed, feeling alone in this crisis. She needed to go speak to Sera after the court summons was over.

Marching at a steady pace, Lute gripped the coffee in her right hand, spear tapping the floor in her left, mentally tallying the potential losses if she sent angels down for a surprise attack in the middle of next week, catching the leaders of Hell unaware with their pants down. She heard a raucous group laughing loudly, a cheer and whistle preceding some loud goodbyes. Not even looking up, she kept pace, lip curling in irritation as a few angels stopped in front of her suddenly. Lute looked up, ready to push someone out of the way. Beyond the slender shoulders in front of her was two Heavenborn angels spinning another angel around, joking and laughing as they set her down and waved her off. The unknown angel had attracted quite the crowd of people who stopped and shouted greetings or waved eagerly. Lute paused her strategic thinking to wonder who it was, since most of the more ‘famous’ angels that normally got this level of attention were in the court chambers right now.

The angel skipped into a spin, her hair flipping over the long, modest peach coloured dress. Cotton-mix turtlenecks in Heaven. Not a style she would be seen dead in, Lute thought. And those sleeves. Ick.

Lute pushed past the small blockade of onlookers, narrowly avoiding a coffee spill as she continued towards the passage to her exorcist camp.

Eyes wandering with little interest, she met the gaze of the smirking angel, memories smacking her harder than any angel blade ever had. It was the bitch she’d hunted for weeks, months before giving up. They hadn’t found the anomaly anywhere, no omnisight, angel spy, diviner or hunter had found the cunt. But she was here, in the flesh, strolling through Heaven like she owned everything. She had followers. Everyone here knew her?! Lute tore her eyes away, spinning to look at the gathered angels. They all recognised her, all accepted and liked her. Every single one of them recognised the anomaly, and yet no one, not one single prick, had deigned to inform the courts?!

Lute found her voice, snarling as she yelled. “How the fuck are you alive, BITCH?”

The angel, who had strolled past her by this point, drew to a halt and barely turned towards her, blowing a sarcastic kiss before walking off.

Not this time, she thought, angel spear creaking in her grasp. Let’s fucking go.

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #radio demon #reader insert #alastor #charlie morningstar #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #heaven hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute hazbin #adam x lute #sera hazbin hotel #seraphim #emily hazbin hotel #sir pentious #lilith hazbin hotel

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looselyreadymade · 8 days ago

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Part 22: Glass half full?

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, grief, depression, panic, drugs, violence, MODERATE gore, reader x Alastor, emotional distress, TWO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

Emily kept contact with you in subtle ways; meeting you here and there, leaving notes, turning up in places you ‘happened’ to be. It was a way of ensuring you were kept in the loop whilst also maintaining an undetected alliance. Thus far, you had gotten away with it. The courts had little interest in watching Lilith’s patch of beach; they had spied on her the entire time she had been in Heaven, and found nothing of interest, thinking she was accepting her fate to stay there for the rest of her cursed afterlife away from her lover and daughter. Her job was to maintain the facade, pretending (though still relatively enjoying herself as she played the part) to sunbathe and lounge all day whilst reading or going for walks. It was by far the easiest task of the four of you, but one of the most important in order to keep the Seraphim satisfied in her submission.

Meeting you at an art studio where she went for a day trip with another Seraphim, Emily pretended to be thrilled at seeing her ‘new soul friend’ and hugged you excitedly, whispering in your ear to be in your bathroom at four PM today sharp. She pulls away and waves, heading back to her own friend and setting up to paint the still-life scene.

You painted nonchalantly, creating an image depicting the stars in the sky above the silhouettes of a forest. The picture calmed you as much as distracted you; the class was ending just as you started to debate painting in a slight red and black hue to the moon.

True to her word, Emily phased into your bathroom at four PM exactly, grabbing you in a hug and phasing you to the private beach shack. It took only six seconds total. You blinked, shocked by the sudden change in temperature and lighting, adjusting your eyes to the dimly lit wooden building. Emily breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have made it unseen. “Okay. I know we have a lot to catch up on, but i think i have some serious news to share first. You ready?”

You nod, unsure of what she could mean.

“Hell... it’s changing. There’s something different in it, like it’s giving up. I don’t know how to describe it. There’s still angel attacks, but they’re far less frequent or serious. There isn’t as much fight left in the sinners, too. They still defend themselves, most are still armed, but they seem like they’re accepting the power Heaven has over their lives.” She pauses, waving her hand over the glowing omnisight to show you examples. Scene after scene of demons getting on with their lives, buying and selling and drinking and brawling. The brothers-in-arms attitude was all but lost when an angel attack happened; often they would disperse or fight for themselves rather than coordinate and fight tactically. She showed you glimpses of the Overlords meetings, how they were growing less and less interesting with the minimal progress or changes in the pentagram. It felt incredibly surreal to see the familiar faces around the stark grey meeting table you once attended, and yet... a few faces were missing?

You patiently waited for Emily to finish her demonstration, watching her become more concerned as she finished. Curiously, you ask her what is bothering her specifically. She looks up at you, a tightness in her riveting eyes that set your stomach twisting in nerves. “I’m just... not seeing the fight in them anymore, you know? I’m just afraid... maybe this has actually gone too far, that they wouldn’t be able to stand up for themselves if Heaven caught on to what we’re doing and decided to slaughter everyone down there.”

“Alright, morbid and a bit depressing there, Em. I think I'm seeing the exact opposite up here, you know? There’s so much camaraderie, so much protectiveness and support and life emerging up here, so much beyond the veil that Heaven puts on to pretend everything is perfect, when none of us, not even the courts could ever claim to be so. Yeah, it’s an underground dance thing, but have you seen the shift in behaviour during the day? Angels are pushing for more freedoms. They’re asking for more space to have more reckless hobbies, they’re dressing more how they want, they’re having more sex. Like, a LOT more sex. Point being, they’re becoming truer to their souls, following their hearts and becoming individual thinkers. “I know that seems irrelevant to Hell losing its teeth, but... i guess think of it like, you don’t need Hell to have teeth, if Heaven isn’t about to bite it first? Eh, maybe that’s a shit analogy, but I'm just trying to say that the people of Heaven might just advocate for the people of Hell instead of allowing an all-out slaughter. We just need to keep pushing the narrative that we are more than what we are judged to be.”

“Sssssso true” cried Sir Pentious, having been hovering in the doorway. The emotional fellow had the biggest, saddest puppy-dog eyes and his hands over his heart, lips quivering as tears pooled. You give him a (slimy) hug and reassure him, “you know Pentious, you’re the reason we’re fighting so hard to help Heaven and Hell work together? You’re the pioneer of redemption, proving you can belong to both communities and flow between the two, in some capacity. You’re living, breathing proof.... sort of, anyway. You have no idea how many souls in both Heaven and Hell will be inspired by your story, when you’re allowed to finally tell it.”

After a good cry, Sir Pentious asks if anyone else has made it to redemption. You turn to Emily, who shakes her head sadly. “I’m not sure what worked the first time, if it was something you did or how you believed in yourself or what. I’m still studying it as much as i can. But, even if no one else gets redeemed in the same way, we can still make a better life and cohabitate between the two realms with your inventions. That’s going to mean more to all the souls than just being teleported up to a world of ignorant bliss, this way they get to still have their freedom, their spirit. Don’t be sad, it’s a good thing, i promise!”

He concedes, sharing a small smile before watching the omnisight shift through various street scenes. “You know, i haven’t sssssseeen much of the Hazzbin Hotel on thissss thing, issss it tuned to ssseEEe them?”

“It can be, no problem. You miss them, huh?”

“YeEEssss, very much ssso. They’re good people. And.... maybe, jusssst maybe they sstill have my egg boyssss?”

Your laugh escapes before you can stop it, meeting Sir Pentious’s hopeful eyes as you picture the little egg-shaped disaster minions. “Go on Em, I'd love to see them too.”

“You sure you’re ready? I know how much it hurt you to leave them. I watched your goodbye party so many times, like the most painful movie ever made. I cry every time.”

“Huh, i forgot you’d have been able to see it. Yeah, i have no idea if I'm ready, i guess I'll just turn away if it gets too much.”

Emily’s fingers trace swirls over the orb, focusing it to the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel.

It’s startling, how crystal clear the image is, the familiar reds and golds and furniture filled with reams of sheltering guests across the whole lobby. You spot Husk in his usual bartending spot, being pestered by a drunk Angel. The sight makes you smile, filling you with longing and warmth. They were doing just fine without you. Good, it would have killed you to see them suffering right now. “This is real-time i take it?”

“Yup, coming to you LIVE!”

Her commentator impression was almost as terrible as Charlie’s fake British accents, making you double over laughing. “Aaanywho, ah, God. That got me. Right. I can see Husk and Angel.... is that Niffty?” The small red and white flame shot across the guests, grabbing half-empty drinks and replacing dishes. It was dinnertime now, to be fair. “Oh! Look there, is that Vaggie?!” You point at a familiar figure strolling through the lobby towards the entrance, wielding her spear comfortably beside her. “Where’s she off to?”

“If it’s.... yes it must be, it’s about an hour before the next Overlord meeting. She’s attended the last few as a representative of the hotel, keeping both sides informed and making some pretty good suggestions.”

“An Overlord meeting? Why would she represent that? Isn’t Alastor going instead?”

Her face dropped as you asked the innocent question. You had no idea what was behind her expression. The seconds stretched, ramping up your anxiety as she didn’t answer you.

“Emily... why isn’t Alastor going to the Overlord meeting?”

Seeing your panic rising, she looks away, eyes scrunching slightly. “I’m... sorry.”

Your heart stops completely. “Emily. What the fuck do you mean, tell me. Right now. Where is Alastor?”

She closes her eyes and releases a long breath before turning back to you. “Listen, he’s alive... but not himself, okay? I’ve kept an eye on him, making sure he’s not getting worse, it’s just that he’s definitely not the man you used to know. But, he is alive, i promise you.”

You release a shaky breath, panic still high. It’s been... what, a couple of months or so since you were killed? More? For how much has happened up here, the time has just flew by. You’d honestly just assumed they would carry on without you, just fine, like they were before. You hadn’t expected Alastor to be doing anything but his usual bullshit by this time. The thought occurred to you that you hadn’t just left... you’d been killed. Your body was down there. You probably died right in front of him. Shiiiiiit. “Emily, how did i die?”

The question took her by surprise. She recovered quickly, looking at you quizzically. “Why? I thought you knew you were shot?”

“I know i got shot, but not who by, and not what happened. Was it at the Embassy?”

Her round, anxious eyes betrayed how bad it was. “Yes. Yes, it was the Embassy. You came straight up here, i saw it on the omnisight. No side routes or distractions that i recall.”

“You know damn well that’s not what I'm asking, Em.”

Her hands hovered over the glowing orb as she debated whether to show you or not.

“Please, Em. Show me.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Watching yourself get murdered is one thing; but watching the man you had fallen in love with mangle your killer beyond recognition in grief was a whole other experience, especially considering the scene that followed. Alastor, hunched over Vox’s remains, broken. Nothing in the world could have prepared you for seeing his facial expression as he sobbed, the will to live leaving his body at the same time as his shadow demon powers. Alastor’s weakened frame had to be near carried back to the hotel as his head hung and feet dragged. The pain wracked through your body like white-hot flames, choking you from the inside out. Your own sobs came as you watched them try to care for him, Emily skipping through the days to show examples of when he’d get slightly better, washing and dressing himself or accepting food for the first time since.... Shit. This was beyond grief, beyond mourning. Emily skipped ahead to the last few nights, explaining that Alastor had been getting worse nightmares now he was eating and moving around more, like his body was recovering but his mind wasn’t. He regularly stayed awake into the early hours of the morning and barely slept in, tortured by his own mind.

You muffled your cries as the images seared into your mind. You’d never imagined you’d see such an incredible, powerful and vibrant being, reduced to such depression. Because of you. God, you wished you’d never set foot near him, preventing his pain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you. I know you loved him.”

You blinked away tears as they slowed, gaining some control over your emotions. “I get it. Maybe it’s for the best. I couldn’t have done any of the parties or anything knowing how much pain he was in. I don’t even know if i can do it now. It all seems so frivolous, so pointless. I’m up here, teaching angels how to rail a line, and he’s down there, trapped in his own personal Hell within Hell. Is there anything we can do?”

Lilith spoke, surprising the two of you and making Sir Pentious jump. “It was never pointless, child. You have so much to learn about the promise of fate and consequence. We are waging a war, turning Heaven against itself to protect the citizens of Hell and fight the overbearing oppression that has held a choking grip since the dawn of creation. This is not a fight to sacrifice for the sake of one man.”

You hesitated, a wall building within you. “This isn’t just about one man. Alastor is not just some guy. This is a human soul who is the very definition of survival, of becoming more than he was forced to be. Do you have ANY idea who he was as a human?” She stared back, unblinking, expression neutral. You carry on, “He was tortured. Abused. Watched his own mother be killed. Could have been killed too, except he rose above being a victim and chose to fight back. He put on a mask, his perfect smile, and took on every evil he could find and slain it. Yeah, he’s a serial-killer, but that’s part and parcel with taking out abusers. Granted i don’t condone eating them after, but hey, it’s a character flaw. Point being, he took on great power to protect sufferers from further abuse, became a powerful demon using a deal with A CERTAIN SOMEONE to establish the ability to continue killing off the most unabashed cruel and depraved in all Hell. Ring any fucking bells, Lilith?”

Now she reacts. She snarls, baring teeth and gripping her fists at her side. Emily jumps to her, spreading her wings to block her view of you. “Wait! Easy, please, stop, both of you, just wait. She’s very out of line, and yes it was rude, but it comes from a place of hurt. We need to give her time to process this, Lil. Remember she’s still barely even been dead for very long, let alone alive, she’s still too young to know the consequences like we do. We’re okay. You’re okay. She’s sorry, right?” She looks over her shoulder, pleading with her eyes.

You’re less than compliant, still staring Lilith down.

The icy exchange draws on until you relent first, feeling the fury settle a fraction. “Yes, fine. I’m sorry. I know it was harsh. But in fairness that was pretty fucking rude.”

Lilith straightens, relaxing her expression. “Regardless, my point still stands. However you have managed to gain this information, it is incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. My life, as well as many others will be destroyed if this got out. I will kill you where you stand, anomaly in the universe or not, if you dare spread a word of this outside these walls.”

“Yes Ma’am. Now you’ve established your dominance, can i go back to helping Alastor please?”

The corner of her lips pick up, amused by your youthful defiance. “There is little you can do without tipping off Heaven. It is certainly impossible for you to let them know, Alastor included, that you are alive. As far as Hell is concerned, you are dead, with an unknown fate for your soul. They do not know if you are even in this universe. Similarly, most of Heaven was shielded from the knowledge of your existence, to prevent uproar; those that do know of you were blinded by distractions while you created havoc in the afterlife grounds, preventing them from realising their anomaly was right under their noses the entire time. Even now, only us four truly know the anomaly is alive and well here. Which leads to my next concern; if you are so desperate to help your lover, you are an incredible risk to the entire cause. Would you truly sacrifice the war for him?”

You process her words, watching the demon through the omnisight. You would raze Hell for him, why not Heaven too? The thought made you give a single laugh though your nose. Sure, you could, but then what good would that do. You’d be better off creating the safe place for angels and demons to coexist before saving him.

“I get what you mean, and in terms of the consequences, that long term plan, no. I wouldn’t sacrifice the war, not for how much benefit it will potentially gain for him in the long run. I’d even get to see him again if this all works out. Lilith, i honestly am sorry for the outburst. Truce?”

She relaxes a little, nods once and walks from the room.

“Sssssssshit, you’re very brave Madam. Perhapssss a bit ssstupid, but brave.”

“Fuck off, Pentious. I’m at my limit for being tolerant right now.”

“Ha! No fearsss, I'm jussSst obsserving. Perhapssss there iss another way to help him, without letting him know you ssstill exissSSt?”

You and Emily stare at him, not comprehending.

“Well... you have thisss orb thing here. It workss ass a lensse of a variety, creating imagesSs of current and passssst eventss. With your divine power dear Emily, would you not be able to manipulate the picturess to sSshow ssomething elsse?”

Emily looked between him and the orb, “what do you mean? Like a movie?”

“Ssort of, though more like a dream. A NiccCe dream to help him sssleep aSsSwell asss feel like you are not gone from him completely.”

His idea hit you, making complete logical sense. Emily too was picturing the potential options, “we can do that! I’ve done it before, for human souls who have experienced traumatic deaths and need time to heal. We give them dreams to help them process and recover from their passing. We could do the same, pretty easily, for Alastor, we just need to get the dreams to him.”

“I take it that’s going to be the hard part?”

“....Yeah. Could still be possible though. I can shift between places, maybe just have to shift somewhere they won’t think to look in an omnisight and transport to his room some other way. It’ll have to be just me, but you can help me make the dreams. I’m sure you’d know what would help him better than any of us!”

You spend the next few hours sketching out ideas in a loosely comic strip style of art, complete with notes and speech. Emily and Sir Pentious help you refine it into a manageable form, especially where the dream required him to interact back. You decide to have it as a fairly non-interactive dream, where he is observing it as if in the second person perspective watching himself in the dream. That way it wouldn’t be obvious that he couldn’t control the imagery or any of the outcome. Emily began to struggle with some of the movements she was trying to create, the flow between you and Alastor’s dancing seeming disjointed and illogical. You reach across to the omnisight without thinking to point out where he would normally have stepped to proceed to the next twirl. The image shifts, clarifying like a camera lense as the dance becomes smoother and more natural. Smiling fondly, you rest your hand there, imagining the dance and watching it unfold before you. The swaying, the build-up, the tension before you kiss, holding you as you’re wearing the dark brown swing dress he chose for you. Your lips parted as you imagined the scene, imagined the warmth of his breath against your cheek as he nuzzled. The image reflected it perfectly, zooming in on the expressions of adoration and soft smiles, eyes fixed between the two dancers. You watched the dance become slower, softer, the picture showing you resting your head against his shoulder as you hold each other, whole again.

A gentle shiver runs down your spine and you release a shaky breath. Even in the warm beach shack, your cheeks feel suddenly cool. Releasing the orb, you touch your face, feeling the streaks of tears.

You peel your eyes away from the image of you both dancing as you wipe the salty tears, meeting two absolutely stunned faces. “What?”

“How.... how did you do that?”

“Do what?”

Emily looked pointedly at the omnisight that was looping back over the dream, barely blinking as it progressed. The exact moment you had touched the orb was when it shifted into high definition, with palpable feelings and seamless touch. “I don’t understand.... did i do something? Did it read my mind or something?”

“Omnisights don’t have minds. They’re just as much of a tool as a pen, they can only create what they are made to. You just used one of Heaven’s most difficult to control forces of time-sight, without even realising it?”

You blink, processing, still watching the figures dance. It was beautiful, exactly how you imagined it. “I guess maybe this is some anomaly universe thing? I don’t know how to do what i just did, i just did it.”

“Like muscle memory” She whispered, eyes widening, staring into the dream.

“Huh?”

“It’s.... just a thought. Maybe... maybe we could try out some other ideas at some point. I could try and teach you a few things, see what you’re capable of?”

Sir Pentious tilted his head, thinking. “I believe i am catching on to your reasoning, dear Emily. Ssshall i obtain ssssome materialss?”

She half smiles, suspiciously hiding her usual enthusiasm. You don’t trust them one bit. “Hey, whatever you nerds are planning, i need to know. I’m not an experiment, got it?”

They laugh heartily, talking you through their plans to test their idea of your metaphysical prowess. Trivial things, like manipulating light, creating more dreams, flicking a flame in your fingers, followed by wilder ideas like telekinesis, teleportation, even time travel. The conversation was humorous, with joking examples thrown around to lighten the mood. Beneath this, you had all felt something shift. You were proving to be every bit the unexpected anomaly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying.

That night, Emily set up the omnisight to take the dream to Alastor. She summoned the essence into a small, seed-sized glow of light, clasping it in her hand. It seemed to absorb into her palm. “Let’s see if this works. I’ll leave the omnisight set up over Alastor so you can watch his reaction, if there is any. This may not work, depending on how his mind works and how strong the nightmares are. You sure you want to watch?”

“I need to, Em. I need to know i at least tried.”

“I know. No matter what, it’s the kindest thing you could have done to help him right now. If you need to change the view, just think where you want the omnisight to look and it should just follow your mental lead. It has done so far.”

The sarcasm made you chuckle before staring back into the image of Alastor finally falling sleep. “It’s time. Good luck Emily. Thank you.”

You couldn’t see where she materialised; she had mentioned finding a back area of the hotel, somewhere not worth the angels’ time to watch. After a few minutes, you see the faintest little speck of light, almost that of a lightning bug drifting over towards the bed. You touched the omnisight, mentally rotating it into a better view of Alastor’s face.

It was contorted, snarling at invisible enemies, silent shouts twitching at his lips. Every so often his body would jerk and claws curl. You hadn’t watched his nightmares this up-close, and really wished you hadn’t. Emily’s energy form hovered over him, settling onto his pillow next to his forehead. She navigated the cloth as his deer ears disturbed the material. Touching his skin, she glowed brighter for a second as she passed the dream into him. The glow dimmed, and her essence floated away to rest on a cabinet, observing the reaction.

It was subtle at first. The scrunched eyes and snarled lips eased. The brows furrowed, then released. His breathing slowed. Cheeks, lips, forehead all relaxing. You believed it must have been working. Then it happened, as slow and powerful as molten lava. A smile; genuine, pure and happy. It came with a sigh and a slight tilt of his head as he settled comfortably into the pillow.

Great, now you’re crying again. You need to drink more water.

You watched the entire night turn into morning, then late afternoon. The whole time, he was either replaying the same dream over and over, or had taken over with his own versions. He looked peaceful the full sleep duration, not even waking up when Lucifer came in to check on him. The King looked shocked to see the peaceful buck still resting at that time, let alone in such a happy slumber. Fearing disturbing him, Lucifer grabbed Niffty by the scruff of her neck and held her mouth just as she was about to jump on Alastor. Making noise, Niffty’s excitement through Lucifer’s capture managed to wake the sleeping demon. Lucifer and Niffty froze as they stared at him, watching him lazily stretch with a broad grin that pulled his cheeks to his eyes in happiness. Sensing the intruders, Alastor’s eyes popped open, flicking to his audience, smile still frozen on his re-energised face.

You laugh heartily at the scene, joy radiating off you as the king looks utterly dumbfounded by the sudden change. You’d feel it too if you didn’t know what happened. An arm came around your shoulders, making you jump a little, relaxing when you noticed it was Emily who had just come back. “It’s beautiful isn’t it? It really worked. He’s even getting out of bed to go get breakfast. You did amazing!”

Hilariously similar to the time you came downstairs during your withdrawal recovery, everyone who saw Alastor casually meander into the kitchen and start cooking breakfast was astonished. Mouths open, forks mid-air, the whole works as the ex-Overlord hummed a sweet tune while grabbing ingredients.

“I didn’t expect this, not by any stretch. I think i forgot how important a good sleep is, even for demons, goddamn!”

Emily grinned, agreeing. “You need sleep too, little anomaly. You been here the whole time?”

“Yeah, weren’t you there still? You’ve only just come in?”

“Hah, i actually have work to do. I left shortly after giving him the dream, maybe ten minutes tops before i left to grab a nap so i could do my reports this morning. I still have a few more to do, to be fair, i just wanted to check on you.”

“Can we do this again tonight? I can create more, new ones and different stories and not just about me, but maybe other things, and maybe just some nice scenery, i could even see if i could find his Ma up here and give him some dreams catching up with her.....”

Your imagination ran wild, creating a hundred different possibilities to help bring peace to your love in the only way you could right now.

Three weeks of secret beach shack meetings later, you had all but given up on having any super-powers besides making pretty movies on an omnisight. You couldn’t do anything magically, had zero talent with mind control or mind reading, teleportation was nil, and time still travelled in its usual boring linear way. Both you and Emily had started to lose focus.

Lilith hadn’t been surprised that this was all you could do, claiming that even if you had other talents, they would take a long time to unlock, if at all. Sir Pentious had been more confident, believing that if they could figure out the trigger, they would be able to help you control whatever abilities you had without immense training. The conflicting opinions were as exhausting as they were unhelpful.

After a particularly good dream creation session, you sat with Sir Pentious, musing over the coming battles. There was no way to avoid confrontation between Heaven and Hell; whether it was diplomatic or destructive, it needed to happen. The best way you could see it working was to ensure both sides had fairly equal power; demons who wanted to live a better life, and angels who wanted enrichment in their existence. The two goals essentially reflected each other through opposite sides of the mirror. With Charlie’s Hazbin Hotel and your own wave of dancing rebellion, it really seemed possible. Your biggest challenges were to prevent fighting from radicalising either side; this meant taming down the Overlords and Hell’s royalty from wanting to rise and take over Heaven, and similarly you needed Heaven’s hierarchy to be knocked down a peg by their own people so they don’t just assume dominance over Hell the way they usually do.

Emily came in later on with little to no significant updates; you were able to use the omnisight at will so generally you were up to date anyway. She still transported you back to the winner’s circle every few days to make an appearance, but essentially this shack was where you spend 90% of your time, including sleeping on a puffy lounge across the room.

Sir Pentious perked up when he saw the glass Emily had in her hand. He slithered over rapidly, holding out his hand for it. Curiously, she handed it to him. His expression lit up, something occurring to him as he leaned in and whispered into Emily’s ear. You watched him, trying to work out what was so important about a glass of water. From her confusion bloomed a huge grin, joy sparkling in her brilliant lilac eyes. She looks to you, bouncing slightly from foot to foot. Sir Pentious tells her to go on, prompting her to sit next to you, still excited. “We have an idea! What if i could give you some of my powers, just for a little bit, to see if you can trigger your own?”

“You can do that?!”

She claps rapidly, energy radiating off her. “It’s a Seraphim thing. If i give you some of my power, you should be able to do what i can do for a short time; including making flames, summoning objects, creating illusions, teleporting, telekinesis, the works!”

“Is.... is this a good idea? Just banging a whole ass Seraphim’s power into a human soul?”

“Usually I'd say no, but we need to figure out what you can do. If my power kickstarts yours, we might be able to make more of a difference in a shorter time frame.”

“I mean, I'm happy to try? How do you get the powers back though?”

“Oh don’t worry about that! Just focus on feeling the energy flowing through you, stretching out your mind into the new powers, okay? It should come easily after you relax into it.”

“Sure, i guess. If it’s unsafe or i start to cause havoc or something, you’ll stop me, right?”

They look to each other, hesitating. Emily’s smile isn’t as genuine this time, meant to placate you. “We’ll do our best, no promises. Seraphim magic is incredibly strong. You met Lucifer, right? That’s the kind of power we’re talking. You just gotta breathe, relax, feel the magic in your heart, and reach out towards it with your mind. You ready?”

“Ready...?” You ask, still unsure, also not knowing how the magic was going to get in.

Sir Pentious holds the glass of water on the table, holding it tightly as if to prevent it from moving of its own accord. Emily pulls her hands together in prayer and does a dramatic ‘reaching to the sky’ gesture, followed by a pouring motion with her hands. Sure enough, gold dust twinkled from her hands and sank into the water, turning it a brilliant golden glittering potion. You couldn’t believe they would try this crazy, and especially couldn’t believe you were about to taste pure Seraphim power.

They handed you the swirling potion, watching eagerly as you brought it to your lips, hesitating for a second before chugging the whole glass. You handed it back, looking to their eager faces. Trusting them, you close your eyes and relax your body piece by piece; fingers, toes, wrists, ankles, forearms, calves, upper arms, thighs, lower back, upper back, stomach, shoulders, neck, face. All the while, feeling the smooth pace of your breathing, in and out. You could feel warmth across your body where you had relaxed the muscles, allowing yourself to feel beyond the physical. It was strange, like noticing background running water when all you could hear before was chatter and footsteps. You probed at the feeling with your mind, examining how you felt in every limb, every part of your torso and body, how the senses felt to your face and hands. You felt a particular warm flow into your back, just over your ribcage near the spine, ebbing and flowing in waves of sensation like a pulse down an unstretched limb. Slowing your breathing, you allow your body to feel, to explore, to know these new limbs. It made all the sense in the world that you would be able to move them, now you knew they were there. You followed this feeling, followed this confidence, and tried stretching out your wings.

They rose from your body, expanding across the room, similar to reaching your arms out as far as they can go. The stretch gave incredible relief. How long had you been holding these poor things in? They were stiff, tight, grateful to be free.

Your eyes remained closed as you relaxed your outstretched wings. You tested other senses; your sense of smell and touch felt heightened, marginally. Could have been the meditation though.

You gently ease your eyes open to look at your hands; they’re slightly, just a fraction more... angelic? The skin seems to shimmer more, your nails minutely longer. Feeling the energy from Emily’s magic tingling in your fingers, you raise your hand in front of you and snap, creating orange and yellow flames dancing in the air. The flame itself moved of it’s own accord, though the energy it blazed from was entirely under your control. You played with it, rolling it between both hands, expanding it and shrinking it, changing its colour to purples, blues, reds and white. You closed your hands to stop the flame, making it disappear instantly. Pleased with how well Emily’s magic worked with you, you tried something new. Instead of summoning a flame, you summoned a creature. In your hand, the beautiful red and black eyebrowed snake you bought back in Hell appeared, looking startled. You brought him to your chest, cherishing the tiny reptile. “I missed you, little one. How much you have grown!”

Keeping the snake on your arm, you remember how he used to look wrapped around your clawed glove. A fond memory, in the middle of a horrific living situation at the time. Flexing your hand, you grew long, perfectly balanced talons from each finger and thumb. They reflected the light brilliantly, perfectly matching the length and sharpness of your original angelic steel ones. You tested a claw against your forearm, avoiding jostling your snake. A tiny prick of the claw and golden blood immediately trickled. Yup, angelic steel. In the literal palm of your hands. Turning your wrist, you consciously controlled the pattern of steel as it wound through your skin, flexing and stretching into vines and intricate criss-crosses up your arms, over your chest, your back, hips, legs, feet. You left your face free. The steel felt as comfortable and natural on your body as your own skin; it just prevented your claw from breaching and cutting you unless you stabbed between the silvery vines. God, it felt amazing to have your favourite weapons back, like healing a part of your soul you hadn’t realise was gone. All the ferocity you had used to protect others... it sank into your bones, revitalising your will.

“Holy fucking shit.”

You look up, startled, into Lilith’s pinprick-sized pupils.

“Ah, i, uh, we’re trying something out, it’s temporary, don’t worry! Emily just gave me her powers, or some of them anyway for me to see if it helps unlock anything i can do, she’ll get them back!”

Emily, however, was stock-still, frozen in awe. She barely registered your explanation, just staring at you. Sir Pentious was no better; in fact, he was slightly behind Emily, holding on to her arm as a shield as he cowered.

Lilith was assessing Emily and Sir Pentious’ behaviour just like you were. Eyebrows furrowing, she surveyed the glass next to you. “Is that what you think? Do you believe Emily gave you her powers?”

You gaze at the glass, picking it up to show her. You test the gravity, feeling the glass hover in your hand as you try out telekinesis. Successfully moving it with ease, you slowly course it through the air using soft gestures until it is in front of Lilith, in mid-air. She reaches for it, which provides the strangest sensation of having a non-corporeal limb be pulled on until you let go. She holds up the glass, examining it in the light, watching the glitter. She then takes a sip of the tiny droplets that had collected at the bottom. Emily was staring at her now, awkward with... regret? Like she’d been caught? It couldn’t be good to just share your powers with someone, let alone a human soul anomaly thing, but it was temporary, and-

“This is water.” Lilith interrupts your mental rambling with a firm statement.

“Well, uh, i, yes, i guess, it was, but then Emily, she did the... thing, something to make her powers go IN the water. Then i drank it. I don’t know how long it’ll be in my body, I'm just trying out as much as i can while it’s working!”

Lilith stares into Emily’s face, a smirk building. “You manipulative bitch. Well done.”

Emily gives a nervous laugh, avoiding both of your eyes. Lilith runs her finger around the rim, making it hum faintly. Still smirking, she points the glass at you, gesturing nonchalantly. “This is a regular glass of water, with some glitter in it. Actual glitter. No angel of any authority is capable of sharing their powers; it’s not biologically possible. They can grant others power, if they make a deal. Unless you signed a contract or shook hands, i don’t believe this is the case. You’re just an idiot. An incredibly, immensely powerful idiot.”

You tremble, unable to absorb her words, still coated in angelic steel and carrying your precious snake. “I.... what?”

Emily eases around you, side stepping so she faces you the whole time. She was nervous? She stops a few feet from you, tentatively offering a hand. You take it, feeling the hypersensitivity on your newly clawed hands. She leads you through the underground tunnel, into the beach hut, up to the bedroom. Pushing the door open, she looks over her shoulder at you, releasing your hand and gesturing for you to enter the room with the other outstretched palm. Observing her, you step past and focus directly ahead, at your reflection in the full-length wardrobe mirrors. One... Two... Three.... Three pairs of brilliant golden-laced wings. A Seraphim’s wings.

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #radio demon #reader insert #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #niffty #emily hazbin hotel #sir pentious #lilith hazbin hotel #seraphim

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looselyreadymade · 8 days ago

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Part 21: Add a little Spice

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, grief, depression, panic, drugs, violence, mild gore, reader x Alastor, emotional distress, TWO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

Taking down Heaven’s perfect little regime: a checklist

Plan your outfit according to the targets. Too brave, they lose trust. Not noticeable enough, they lose interest. Going to a bar with lots of Heavenborn requires a different wardrobe repertoire to a crowd of human souls. Dress accordingly.

Pick the location. To start with, choose a bar with evening and nighttime attenders which have a range of music tastes, more amenable to influence.

Choose the energy you wish to encourage. Start out gentle, then lay it on thicker as the night progresses, depending on the reception you get. Rowdy, horny, devious, cheeky, wild, sneaky, whatever. Just ease them into it before they catch on.

Have a backup plan. If the mood or outfit is putting off the targets, switch tactics immediately. The further you push, the more resistance you’ll get.

Weapons. Concealed and hard to notice. Enough to give you an advantage if things go south.

Take mental notes of the groups who feed into the energy most and who need further consideration. Use this information for the next attempts.

Hold the cards, own the room, take the power. No one should be able to sway the targets from your goal without your say-so.

Bring snacks?

You compile your game plan, making brief notes while mentally picturing the sequence of events. In your mind, it will be entirely improvisation; the members of the crowd will be essentially luck and chance as to the life on earth each soul has lived, so you cannot control for their experiences and beliefs under the blissful heavenly ignorance. You will be able to have a rough estimate of the energy when you arrive but will still need backup plans and tactics if anything begins to falter.

Emily had used her charm with some of the locals, finding out the best places for angels to go that boost their nostalgia. A few in particular had a few levels of dance floors, mostly playing soft pop and disco, with the odd classical music bar or jazz room. You figured the disco level might be the easiest room to swing for your first night.

You design a dress which can be altered quickly and easily; a bouncy skater-style pink number with a few layers at the chest and skirt that can be adjusted and removed. As the mattress incident reminded you, you’re not great at sewing. Thankfully, Emily knew of a lovely 15th century seamstress who adored creating multi-layer fashion with big surprises. Whilst the frock was nothing like what she had grown up with, she claimed it reminded her of the rebellious slits they had incorporated into some of the maiden’s gowns, back when using different forms of fabric to fascinate the men was more scandalous than the tightness of your bodice. You had asked in jest whether the amount of skin you would be showing made her uncomfortable; she had shaken her head, telling you a few stories as she sewed. Judging by the glint in her eye as she spoke, there was definitely more to her personality than the sweet little seamstress she portrayed. She’d make an excellent ally, you muse.

You planned to keep self-defence weapons to the absolute bare minimum. Daggers would be visible when you got to the bottom layer of your dress, and your open-toe shoes wouldn’t help hiding them. You toyed with a few ideas, discussing options with Sir Pentious for potential inventions. He eagerly ran through multiple projectile and explosive-based weaponry, gushing over imaginary drawing plans, flailing his arms as he mimics the firing mechanisms. Heaven couldn’t break the inventive spirit of this madman. Lilith had little to contribute to the conversation besides pointing out to him the obvious; projectile weapons are near nil in Heaven and would give away our rebellion in a heartbeat. He appears discouraged, slithering back to his hastily scrawled pictures in the sand. She wasn’t wrong... maybe you needed something that incorporates into your outfit, that can be used as a weapon. The Carmilla Carmine style shoes would be too obvious, no angel wanders casually around with those. Same with clawed gloves, those are 1000% a write off. For now, you were going to have to go in without the protection; this shouldn’t be too much of an issue in these early stages, as it was just getting the angels on board rather than actually disturbing the peace.

You circle around ideas between the four of you. Mostly just reiterating boundaries and limiting potential exposure to unwanted attention. Keeping the rebellion as underground as possible was paramount.

Electronic keyboards and autotuned cat-like voices filled the lower-level of Flora’s Bar. Barely any bass, hardly any alcohol, just a few polite angels lined up around every booth, high table and bar, with about 20 angels on a brightly-lit 80’s disco themed dance floor. Lilith had been right about the clientele at this sort of place; almost every angel you saw had a sparkle in their eyes, reminiscing more than just enjoying the moment. These were perfect targets for nostalgic manipulation.

It was difficult to judge on the age of the soul based on the dresses and suits, as a bar like this often attracts those who like to fit into the style as opposed to representing their own former clothing. For the most part, everything just appeared rather modest, and very pastel. Mute, safe. Like a room full of ready to paint canvases.

The music sourced from a DJ booth in the far-left corner, with a big glittering decorative wall throwing the light back at the dancers from the spotlights. The DJ was too focused on pressing a sequence of buttons to notice you slipping a tiny dose of a stimulant-high into his drink.

Next was the bar. Angels were stood or rested on stools with conversation flowing, eyes wandering around the comfort of the room. No tension, no excitement. A little encouragement was needed. You asked the bartender how they were doing, small talking briefly as you distracted them from serving other guests. Each time they would apologise and go to serve someone else, you would steal the attention back, preventing the steady flow of mild drinks. Patrons began to get very slightly annoyed, even starting to complain to each other. The bartender was too polite, unable to refuse to talk to you. This little game worked perfectly, as the bar began to fill with expectant customers, many becoming irritated with you, casting the odd displeased glance your way. The bartender finally started becoming really uncomfortable, almost backing away from you. That’s the cue to change tactics; “Oh dear, have i taken your time? I’m so sorry, it was just such a pleasure to converse with such a worldly spirit, you certainly do belong in customer service! Please, let me make it up to you all. I am recently departed, and know of a few games to catch up on all your wasted time. Here!” You hop over the bar, startling everyone nearby. Your jovial skipping captivates them as you line up thirty Jager bombs with the shot glasses on top, loosening the built-up tension with curiosity. Control the mood, control the room. One lady in particular seemed excited by the Jager train, hands curling around the bar as she watched you pour the liquid with rambunctious flair. You return the bottles, meet the lady’s eyes and gesture her with a finger to follow you. So caught up in the moment, she follows you to come behind the bar, awaiting your instructions. “You done one of these before, hon?” She nodded confirmation, eyes lighting up, remembering. Perfect. “Do the honours!”

She lightly tapped the Jager shot at the beginning of the train, knocking the drinks into a domino-effect of shots. The crowd, now increasing in volume around your little show, cheers gleefully at the spectacle. “This one’s on me. Hey DJ! May i have a song request? I need backing tunes for a magic show!”

You skip over to the now slightly saucer-eyed DJ who’s trembling with energy.

You flick through the premeditated list he has, shaking your head. “This won’t do. Do you guys have this music every week??”

“Yeah!” they shout in unison.

“And do you guys have this same DJ every week??”

“Yeah!!” They cry louder, abuzz with the herd mentality.

“Now, come on DJ, lets give the people something to get excited about. You have anything a with a little more bass?”

He scowls, thinking. The memories seem to crawl back, reminding him of an entire genre he hadn’t heard in decades. “I got it!”

You tap the side of the DJ booth, leaning forward, pretending to watch the DJ’s actions whilst adjusting your body. Your front leg got a little more pointed forward, your beck leg straightened, highlighting the length of your angelic legs and shortening the lowest part of your frilly skater dress, adding a slight curve into your back. Nothing offensive, no flashing. Just keeping the attention on you.

He raises his arms in the air in glee as a new tune fills the room; bouncing, electronic bass with an easy-to-follow dancing pace. You bounce your head to the beat, clapping and raising your hands, meeting the eyes of the crowd. Many of them join, swept in with the shift in energy. “Can someone get the lights? I can’t fool a room full of clever angels with every damn spotlight on!” Cheers and laughs ripple across the room as someone runs to find the lights. The main room is dropped into a dark, dappled rainbow, flushed with neon colours from the dancefloor. Party time, and you brought the magic.

Your first trick was to separate Ice from alcohol without touching the ice itself; a simple enough parlour trick using a dummy glass and some sleight of hand. Having not been playfully deceived in many, many years, the crowd hadn’t seen something so mind-blowing since entering Heaven. You passed the now ice-less drink to a buzzing guest with his top button starting to come undone, picking the right people to encourage to loosen up. The next two magic tricks worked up a storm, distracting people from how much they had started drinking now the inhibitions were lowering.

Next came the cheesy music. You ordered some shots for yourself, showing the crowd they can relax and have fun like you; many followed suit. At the bar, you spun to face the DJ, smirking and throwing him a wink before demanding the next tune. He recognises it instantly, whipping it up and hitting play. The crowd went buck-wild at the YMCA. You genuinely wondered how so many of them even knew the song, if they had died before its release. It quickly became apparent that most of them had no idea what the song was, they were just incredibly buzzed and riding the high of the party atmosphere. As a few sprinted to the dance floor and busted out the intro moves, you started up the clapping again, motioning for the others to join in with the beat. As the chorus belted, the extremely easy to learn moves began to spread across to the angels who hadn’t known the tune before. The energy was infectious, claiming most of the entire crowd with the laughter and bold moves as they picked up on the routine.

Throughout the rest of the night, you kept the drinks flowing, made the DJ another special drink, even had the bartender join in a few drinking challenges. The patrons responded beautifully to the staff loosening up, bringing on the perfect balance between thrill and lack of inhibitions, without causing any scenes or drama.

The success of the night carried on until long after closing time, which became an incredible spectacle for the customers who had been leaving the other dancefloors and heard the party. The now jam-packed room was filled with human-souls-turned-angels having the time of their afterlives, rocking to a mix of nostalgic dance and pop tunes that some of the more recently-departed had recalled from their heydays. The close proximity of the dancing due to the crowded room forced many people up against each other; initially there was a lot of apologies, then barely any, and eventually it became accepted, if not enjoyed to be bumping into and against each other as they bounced and jiggled to the beat. Strangers began to dance with each other, especially when a few would show off their skills from their former lives, creating small pockets of dance circles. The night only ended when you decided it had to, to keep that energy and thrill ready for the next night that you had planned. You needed a reputation, and a good one.

You pull into the DJ booth, sidling up next to him with a grin and kissed him on the cheek. Some of the guests who noticed gave a wolf whistle and cheer. The DJ blushed, hugging themselves a little from being bashful. You tease some of the buttons, lingering on some for a small amount of time, stroking them slightly. His eyes were transfixed on your hands, barely blinking under the drugs’ influence. You bite your lip and address the crowd, looking cute and apologetic as you turn down the music halfway. “This has been the BEST night in Heaven, thank you so much!” In response there’s screams and cheers, spilled drinks and laughter; “But it’s time to get out of here before the big guys come out. You know how LONG we’ve been partying?! It’s four AM!” More screams, arms in the air. “We need to do this again, somewhere a little more secret. I vote the ballet studio in Louvienne Street, winners only, no Heavenborns allowed to ruin our fun!” They go wild, completely rapt in the hype. “Tuesday night. Bring someone who can dance. I’ll bring the DJ!” You turn to him and wink, watching the pride bloom across his red cheeks. “Until then, no snitching! Goodnight!”

A steady stream of customers departs into the wee early hours of the morning, still buzzed but keeping hushed to avoid waking the locals. The acoustics of the lower-level bar had maintained an excellent sound barrier against the outside streets, whilst also reverberating the music throughout the whole room. This served perfectly as the first attempt, and honestly went far better than you imaged it would. Many angels were whispering about what to wear for Tuesday, as they had gotten hot and sweaty in this getup. This had gone amazing. You realised how much easier the next time was going to be. They were already hyped and spreading the word, already had a baseline level of expectation for how fun it could get. You just had to get them energised enough for when you kicked it up a notch.

Tuesday came and went, an entire ballet studio thriving with angels swaying and bouncing to predominantly pop music, hinging on some more rowdy tunes. They followed the mood beautifully, cheering the trained dancers on as much as the newbies who were trying out a few moves. You didn’t play magic tricks this time; instead, it was drinking games. You have any idea how bad angels are at beer pong? The poor fuckers were enthralled by the challenge, queueing up for over an hour at a time to have a go before they started to set up their own beer-pong tables.

The success from the previous party had attracted a larger gathering, hence the need for the ballet studio. It was underground, with a long staircase and very high up windows that could be blacked out, surrounded by walls of mirrors. It was mesmerising, even to you, to glance across at the infinities of reflections and seemingly never-ending twinkling lights.

Another forced shut-down at three-thirty AM seemed to really upset the party, enough that they shouted for encores and chanted until they had their way. They ended up relinquishing at five AM. It was subtle psychology at its best; you had just managed to trick an entire swathe of once prim and proper angels into making demands and standing up for themselves.

You promised the next night to be a sensory thrill, something they would never anticipate. The room buzzed with debate as they filed from the ballet studio, discussing what that could mean, eager to find out.

This was when you pulled all the stops out for bringing Hell up to Heaven.

Setting up took a couple of days, using a small network of useful friends you had made at the parties. Some would bring the alcohol, some would bring seating, some brought party games they had made from memory. The location was far from the city centre, avoiding Heavenborns from the upper hierarchies wandering by. This time, you went for a construction site, enclosed in a temporary warehouse frame. This was strategic; it helped show the people of Heaven that not everything up here in the pearly city was perfect, and that it didn’t need to be. It was real, and it could still be amazing.

You used the scaffolding and vehicles as platforms and structures for dancing; tying aerial hoops, silks and gym-rings for the more athletic dancers to try out, as well as being demonstrated by a few paid dancers you had managed to persuade into ‘bringing out their inner performer’. After you reinforced the idea of being celebrated and cherished for their skills and not being judged for standing out, they had set out to practice mini routines and moves the day before the party. They looked stunning, whirling and posing in mid-air, despite the sandy concrete and barely dug-out foundations of new buildings. The construction team were away for the three days leading up and two days after, hired for an ‘essential emergency’ for the courts (pretty much just made up on the spot by Emily, though her purely innocent face let her get away with this flawlessly).

Decorated in flowers, ribbons, silk sheets and velvets, the equipment looked hilarious. It gave off the impression of dressing up a donkey in fine robes. Still beautiful, and still looked like an ass.

The music list had been curated by the main DJ you worked with, and two others who had caught wind of the parties. One in particular recounted his days in the underground rave scene; while you strongly encouraged him to work with the crowd and keep the energy at a high before attempting anything dirty, you still gave him those sultry, amused looks that hinted that you liked what he had to offer. Another member to add to your team, and very familiar with the drugs scene too, even if not an active participant when alive. This could go extremely well if handled correctly.

At first glance, you wouldn’t normally be able to tell who was a human soul and who was a Heavenborn; right up until you’re seeing them throwing their hair around to the pounding bass in a construction site. The Heavenborns really do know how to throw it BACK.

The rumours of a good party had spread a little too far after the ballet studio; the human souls who had close Heavenborn friends they trusted had made confidential promises to keep the party as quiet as possible from what they now referred to as the ‘higher-ups' so they could keep going. Now, you were helping out at the overflowing bar, pouring shot after shot for angels who had no fear in turning up and wearing some downright filthy rave gear. Unlike the humans, they hadn’t needed to do the right things and say the right prayers to get into Heaven, they just lived here. The privilege was mildly infuriating, considering you knew of demons who acted far less indiscrete than this, yet were stuck down there. Although, the bitter thought passed extremely quickly as you watched the raunchiest Heavenborn you have ever seen start to use one of the construction scaffold legs as a dancing pole. This dude had a torn-open shirt, incredibly tight leather jeans and glittering purple nipples, gyrating and sliding up that pole like he owed last months’ rent money. You took huge advantage of this, escaping the bar and swaying towards the scene. You circled him, making eye contact, showing the observers they are allowed to enjoy, even participate in such a performance. As the next song came on, you stepped over to him and whispered in his ear to undo the full-length zip of your dress. He does so without question, incorporating it into a slow slut drop as he pulls on the zipper from breast to legs. The outer pink layer of your piece slips off with you throwing it out to the crowd, revealing a far lower neckline on a shimmering black skater dress. Your cleavage was visible less-than-tastefully, but still modest enough to get away with appearing more decent than the Heavenborn beside you. Giving him a high-five as he stands upright, you stride over to the parallel pole and begin throwing your own moves.

The DJ pulls out banger after banger, wrenching up the bass and mixing the songs like an R&B dancefloor from a gentleman's club back on Earth. The music just kept getting dirtier, as did the drinks. You had hired bartenders who were keeping eyes out for spiking and cutting off patrons who had gone past a comfortable threshold; you still needed absolute control over the energy, and having wasted or emotional guests could kill it in minutes. This worked well enough, barely any angels were actually annoyed by this as they were redirected to delicious snacks or dancing instead.

This time, you let the party carry on until the sunrise cracked through the gaps in the warehouse walls. Gradually, you softened the lighting, had the DJ ease off on the bass and volume bit by bit, until guests began to leave at their own leisure. Very few had stuck around past five-thirty AM, mostly just helping clean up and telling stories from their time in nights out when alive. The remaining souls helped pack everything up by seven AM, sleepy but very satisfied. The nostalgia had long gone, replaced by a newfound pleasure for living in the moment.

Using your network, you were able to allow multiple events to be held in different locations; some were more raunchy, some more cheesy, some closer to a rave than you were expecting. The strict rules you set included not allowing anyone to get violent, wasted, spiked, hurt or out of control. This meant the drinks were regulated, there was a strict cut-off limit, a ban on violence, and medical support on-hand in case of accidents. Heaven’s ability to maintain their perfect little social order became their downfall as you used it to safely maintain an underground party scene that grew by the week.

Interestingly, without pressing for it, the pole dancing and aerial dancing scene had exploded since the construction party. If no one had set up equipment or dancers for it, Heavenborns would MAKE equipment and just straight up go for it, leading to a wave of somewhat tasteful performances by both Heavenborns and human souls as they explored explicit performances with gradually sluttier clothing. One of the recent parties you attended, you had to step up your outfit as you were one of the most decently dressed there. Thankfully, your lower level under the black skater dress was a tight playsuit with barely enough lace over the top half to hide anything from the imagination, making a statement about your figure as you worked the audience with dignity and sultry expressions as well as some very questionably appropriate dance moves. Whichever parties you attended, everyone recognised you and celebrated you being there. Your reputation preceded a fucking good party, it seemed.

Emily and Sir Pentious had stayed well away from your project, aside from checking in every once in a while. They had their own tasks; Sir Pentious was working on a design for mutually-beneficial resources that would be amenable to both demons and angels if the two were going to be living in close quarters. Unsure of where or how this would end up being a possibility, both you and Lilith had agreed on this being an end-goal for the unity and truce between the realms. Whilst heavily drawn towards weaponry, Sir Pentious found he had enjoyed the creativity and engineering he got to apply to this role. He came up with some incredible designs for entertainment, food supply, communications, travel, education and housing. It felt akin to a country on Earth becoming more inclusive of different cultures and disabilities, especially where considerations were being made for the abilities and limitations for many demon-forms in current angelic structures. He would often tell stories from back in Hell while designing, talking Emily’s ear off whenever she came back from the courts. The two had a firm relationship of mutual respect and love for the other’s mind.

In court, Emily had commandeered an office of her own and a few omnisights for private use. She made it look like she was focusing on studying the angel war and how the resulting chaos had whipped Hell into shape, providing seemingly thorough reports on the latter. In truth, she was using the time with the omnisights to assess areas of weakness and need, looking for areas for Sir Pentious to focus on with his next designs, as well as preparing her own ideas for laws and boundaries which would be safe and beneficial regardless of a soul’s designated afterlife. From what she had seen from the parties in Heaven versus Hell, it had become evident that there was not so much of a difference between the value of the human souls, and certainly not a permanence in their ‘deserving’ of the allocated afterlife; there was potential to grow, to fall, to change. Lilith turned this little phrase into a song, carrying Emily through her long, tiring nights of focus and hard work.

On the castaway beach where Sir Pentious and Lilith were hidden, Emily had secured an untraceable omnisight and built it into a barely-noticeable beach shack. It appeared unassuming to the outside viewer, just another shed-like building next to its according beach hut. Inside, Emily and Sir Pentious had built an underground tunnel to get from one of the further away huts into the shack unseen. There, through the night she was able to watch over Hell and its citizens without interruption or getting caught caring about the poor souls, as well as being able to monitor the superior angels’ movements.

She had a well-documented mind map and flow chart of the suspicious activities, managing to identify a group of angels in the Dominion level that had their own secrets. She was able to slip an anonymous invitation to one of them, specifically the one she had caught on the omnisight railing three lines of coke in a row. It invited him to an underground table show, with the utmost discretion, promising a wild night in exchange for the use of his private pool the next day. In truth, they had no need for the pool, it was just something easily achievable as a favour to make it seem to the Dominion angel that it was a fair exchange. It worked out rather well, as the rumour of a wild underground fiesta had swiftly captured the attention of an entire ring of pleasure-seekers from Dominion, Archangels and Virtues that Emily had no idea about.

That was the most spectacular party yet, initially starting in a movie theatre, then expanding to a meteor-lit planet with ambient music and reduced gravity as the ‘higher-ups' cranked it up a notch using their abilities.

Having these angels on your side changed the entire game. They were frighteningly more capable of controlling the crowd, preventing incidents whilst also encouraging drugs and debauchery that would make Hell proud. They would often attend in disguises, so their status but not their identity was known as they blended with the lower levels of angel hierarchy.

Soon enough, you only ever attended the parties for your own fun, as well as to keep the energy going if it started to wane in a certain subset of entertainment.

You were able to take a step back as the infectious party scene thrived and grew, coexisting within multiple layers of angelic order. You could have even sworn you recognised a Seraphim, or at least very well-dressed Throne. It was amazing to watch dissent that ran this deep rule against what Heaven portrays. The souls, Heavenborn and human alike, were freeing themselves from the bounds of perfection, and it was beautiful.

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #reader insert #emily hazbin hotel #seraphim #sir pentious #heaven hazbin hotel

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looselyreadymade · 9 days ago

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Oldheads 🌈💖

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looselyreadymade · 9 days ago

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it's already humiliating when you get into new media, take one look at a character, and know that one's gonna be living in your head indefinitely, but it's absolutely nothing compared to looking at a character and thinking eh i don't think i'd ever have strong feelings about that one he's kinda boring and then he sits quietly in the back of your brain poking idly at synapses and thoughts every once in a while until one day you wake up and realise oh. oh fuck. category 5 blorbo moment, how the ever loving fuck did this happen to me

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looselyreadymade · 9 days ago

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Part 20: Pearly Gates and their Locks

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, grief, depression, panic, drugs, violence, MODERATE gore, reader x Alastor, emotional distress, TWO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS

(The TW is more of a general warning for the whole plot, this actual chapter is a bit of a break from the above <3 )

POV: The Stairway to Heaven was a Bullet through a Silencer

Your eyes scrunched, blocking out some of the blinding light. The pain had only been there for a few seconds, barely even registering before it eased completely. Now it was just.... really fucking bright?

Holding up your hand, you shield your eyes from the worst of the rays as your pupils adjust. Squinting, you can just about make out some stripes of gold in the middle of the bright white. Not stripes.... gates? Really big gates????

You look around, head flinging as you stumble, seeing the mass of fluffy clouds and sunrays you’re surrounded by in front of Heaven’s actual front door. You were 100% certain you were being brought in by the back door, via the Embassy. This couldn’t be any less back-door.

With nowhere else in sight, you take cautious steps towards the gates, noticing a pillar with a flat top, like a lectern or podium, with a blonde-haired and blue eyed impossibly cute angel stands smiling at you from. His halo hovers above him, not attached to anything. Why does he get one and none of the angel assassins do? It'd be so much easier to identify them. Dicks.

You halt within earshot of the angel, waiting for him to speak. He beams down at you, huge white teeth showing no hint of a canine. “Welcome child! Congratulations on your birth to the afterlife!”

Something has reeeaally gone wrong here. You’re definitely at the wrong part. Where’s the Embassy angels?

He continues, joyful, “now you’re here, a wonderful new addition to the Heaven family. You’ll love it! Everyone’s happy here, you don’t have to deal with any more icky human things or bad luck... because this is Heaven!”

You hold up a hand, both gently interrupting him and asking him to let you speak. “I, uhh, think I'm in the wrong place?”

He laughed heartily, wings spreading as he lowers down to the cloud level with you. “There are no mistakes in Heaven, child. You’re here, as one of us, no matter what you believed as a human. Your soul belongs in the sky, a Winner!”

“Yeeeeah no that’s definitely not why I'm here. Where-”

“Ahhhhh shhhshhhhsssshhhhh, i know this is a lot to take in. You’re fresh from the farm, as you humans say. Must have been a quick one if you don’t remember it! Look, I'm sure i can find you on my list, the most recent addition...... yes..... is this you?”

He turns the book towards you, golden lettering jumping out the page at you. Yup, that was your name. “Wait... fresh from the farm? Do you think i died?”

He nods solemnly, still smiling slightly at you. “That’s the only way to get in, child. My name is Saint Peter, guardian of the gates. My book only updates when a soul has left its human body. You’re free!” He cheers, spreading his arms.

You want to slap him. Or yourself. Someone is insane here, and you can’t tell who.

Without another word, arms still outstretched, he steps back. The gates respond automatically, opening with a gentle cool breeze of the freshest, most pleasant air you have ever felt.

What, pray tell, the fuck?

Saint Peter leads you through the paths of Heaven with a song, dancing and twirling with more brightly pearlescent beings, most of whom with halos and wings. His musical tour takes you down the main street, a very neat and calm city scape with boutiques, bakeries, cafes, theatres, all manner of entertainment in various pastel shades with line after line of attractive, glowing angels.

At the end of his song, he pulls you in, swinging you around once before planting you in front of a crisp lemon-yellow apartment building. Out of breath, he resumes normal talking, still beaming ear to ear. “Here we are dear child! Your new home! Chelsea will escort you to your room and show you how things work here. Remember to enjoy yourself, and smile!”

Smile. You’re never fully dressed without one. Your chest aches as you remember Alastor, picturing his face as you gave your silent goodbye. You really hope he understands, one day, that this wasn’t your choice; you’d never, ever leave him willingly. Maybe when you’re sent back down to earth and ACTUALLY die, you’ll go to Hell. If he’d still accept you, then maybe it could work out in the long run......

A red-headed giggly angel skips up to you, handing you a key. “We don’t really need keys, no-one actually breaks in or anything, it just helps new souls settle in and feel safe. Welcome to Heaven!”

She guides you up two flights of stairs. You don’t feel out of breath in the slightest, not a heartbeat out of place. Odd.

Your room is beautiful, very much like many of your holiday hotels when you were in your own earth. An alarming amount of modern white, all the walls, sheets, furniture, appliances. Tiny splashes of gold details here and there. It was functional, not heavily decorated, appearing like a modern minimalist style.

“Here’s the TV... oh and here’s some new sheets.... hairdryer.... shower’s in there, you’ll LOVE the different settings, the jet stream is UH-MAZING for working out those post-gym muscles!”

The bounciness was irritating you like claws on a chalkboard. You stayed silent, waiting for her to finish her mini tour.

“Okay! So, if you need anything, you have a little phone in the desk, you always have money in your account but if you want a job or something more interesting then you’re welcome to come to the central hub and find where you belong! Oh, sorry, and please remember a lot of the established residents here prefer to sleep by 10pm, so please keep your dancing and singing to reasonable levels!” She beamed at you, offering a joyful wave as she skipped out of the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

You look around the room, feeling the surfaces, exploring the furniture. It’s nice, safe, kind of peaceful... You could just chill here for a bit, at least until they realise their mistake and come to pick you up. This is WAY better than going straight to earth. Despite this, you get the odd feeling about all the happy busy streets, filled with delicious foods and entertainment.... it sort of reminded you of that quote, ‘bread and circuses’, like it was meant to keep everyone exactly in their place, maintaining their perfect order. They sure won’t like you, then. Whoops.

You’re running your hand along the pristine desk, towards a beautiful triple wardrobe near the bathroom. It has a full-length mirror on two doors, catching your attention as you’re about to open it.

It was you... but it wasn’t?

You skin just a few shades paler, luminescent. Your eyes brighter. Lips perkier. Your figure, in a long white modest dress, appeared more balanced and curvy. Were your legs longer too, or was this just the mirror angle? God you hoped you had longer legs. What a perk. You looked up from your calves to check out finer details like hair, teeth, nipples. All of the above were just... nice? What else do you say about them? They’re better than they were?

Running your hands through your hair, you feel absolutely no hair extensions. You’d needed these regularly re-fitting to keep the false appearance of being a demon going. So why was your hair looking like a herbal essences advert? This felt too strange, too illogical. If Heaven was going to send you to earth, they wouldn’t be making you look just like one of them. Definitely not. The whole point was to fit in with humanity, to live as one of them until you pass away. If you went down to earth looking like this, you’d have to say ‘be not afraid’ and flap your long dress sleeves at them.

Curious, you look for any familiar scarring. Sure enough, you see faint traces of previous wounds, appearing long-healed. You adjust your neck, looking for any traces of your little skin tags, when you see it. The faint, perfectly round, slightly pinker by one single shade, little circle. Directly under your chin, easy not to notice. You can feel the tiniest difference in the skin consistency where this circle is, only really feeling it because you know it’s there. It’s no less or more sensitive. You check the rest of your body for any more new marks; non from what you can tell, but you still grab the little hand-mirror to look over your shoulder to see your back, just in case. Nothing new there. Lifting your hair out the way, stepping back to get closer to the reflection... there it is. Perfectly lined up with the circle under your chin, a faint little scar right at the base of your skull, exactly where the blinding pain hit you for a few seconds before arriving here.

Your new body starts to tremble as you stare wide-eyed at your reflection. No. No, no nononooooo nope, no, NO.

You actually fucking died?!

The shock started to wear off after a good while, maybe half an hour or so. You stretch your neck, feeling anxious still, sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor, just trying to breathe.

You spend the next few hours trying to work out what happened, tracing out a timeline on a little sheet of paper. You don’t remember getting killed; like Saint Peter said, maybe it was quick? It looked like a healed bullet wound. Straight through the top of your spine, yeah that would do it. Was it from behind? It must have been, only the angels were in front of you and none of them had guns. Someone from the crown must have shot you. Who would even do that? You were being taken away anyway, why did someone want you dead as you were literally being banished?

Noticing the soft pastel sky easing into a beautiful pale sunset, you decide to head out for a wander, try to see if anything makes sense, or if there’s anyone you know. It was almost 100% the Hellaverse’s Heaven, but you still wanted to be sure.

You returned to your apartment, no better off for your walk. Your legs felt barely any ache at all despite the walking, however mentally you feel hit by a bus and reversed over again. You pull yourself into the lightweight bedsheets, settle in for the night, and release the held-in tears.

A week of wandering has passed. Everyone here really is so happy, just milling around existing for the pleasure of just being so. It was nice, but it wasn’t right. Not with how much the angels were putting Hell through to maintain this little facade.

You finally found something useful to explore; round the back of the city, where clouds grew too thick to pass, you were able to shimmy up the side of a building to take a look over the cityscape. It really was beautiful up here. Shaking your head, you focus on the full 360 degree view.

Beyond the wall of cloud was a long, pasty grey building. It had arches and swirls of gold painted on it, will symbols of wings and blades. You could only see it from this angle as you were atop a weathervane, on an inaccessible roof. Angels on this side of the wall were not meant to see this building, whatever it was. You had a real good guess it was probably for the exorcists. Beyond that, into the vast span of the horizon, a small distinct red orb with thick clouding and a minutely visible pentagram is visible. This wasn’t within view from the ground, no matter where you stood. There definitely seemed to be a realm of physics here that was designed to prevent human souls from getting curious.

Finding a way outside the wall appeared to be a challenge in itself. You worked out that if you had wings, you could probably fly over; but then why didn’t anyone else? Surely there was someone, anyone, who was willing to break a few rules and fly over to this hidden place? Considering this, you took a different approach. You knew the court chambers were expansive and well-linked with other parts of heaven, such as the royal courtyards where the most valuable and powerful angels at the top of the head reside. It also seemed that there was different... layers of power here? Similar to in Hell where there were high-ranking Hellborns and lower classes, with varying hierarchies based on both birthright, relationships and profession, you noticed a definite distinction between which angels hung out with each other, and which were aloof to the general populace.

Heaven wasn’t explored much in the show, and you weren’t religious particularly enough in your original earth life to work out the angelic systems from memory, so it was going to be a task to work out where the corruption lies.

As much as the teeth of the beast were the exorcists, someone was controlling them, organising them. You knew of Sera, a very powerful Seraphim with high ranking in the courts and the power to decide to commit to the exterminations, but beyond her.... you’d need to put the work in.

Sifting through these thoughts, it made sense to apply the same logic and reasoning of how both Hell and Earth basically functioned as a guide for what to look for. Logically, they were created in Heaven’s image, inspired by what they knew to create the other realms. Theoretically, in this way, there may be accessible information about the history and evolution of Heaven beyond that of the Bible, though you were certain this was going to be kept well away from the ‘winners’. Human souls were still considered inferior to Heaven-born, you could easily tell that much; thus, they wouldn’t have access to such valuable information. The wall between the human soul’s afterlife and the space for exorcists to exist separate was clear evidence of their separation, much alike to Hell’s Pride Ring.

Problem is, if you’re dead, you still very much apply to those limitations. Your human soul cannot traverse the boundaries the way your physical human form could, as you weren’t trapped by their barriers in the same way. Chances are, Heaven works similarly, preventing you from leaving where the winners are kept.

You consider the possibilities, ways to befriend useful Heavenborns, ways to circumnavigate the boundaries, ways to use some form of computer or tool to access the information from this circle. It was all speculation at this point, without anything concrete you were shooting in the dark.

You slid down the side of the building, avoiding being seen, and meander casually towards the city’s centre. You recognised the court building from the show with little issue. You were greeted by the doormen who were eager for you to ask them questions about how amazing Heaven was and all the great things you could do. You feigned joy and enthusiasm, gaining their trust as they got to ramble about the wonderful parts of Heaven. Playing onto this line of thought, you eagerly ask them about wanting to know more about the history, claiming to have found the Bible fascinating, even if hard for you to understand as a mere human. They made suggestions about finding local libraries, some of the much older human souls, even just asking some of the Heavenborn around the city. You agreed, thanking them and telling them how much you wish you could meet a real high angel, wanted to see their magnificence one day. You turn to walk, one of the doormen calling after you cheerily to wait there, they had an idea. Gotcha.

They returned, smiling broadly, followed by Emily.

She was far more stunning in person, the reflected light dancing off her in a glistening full-body glow, emanating the joyful presence of such a being. Just looking at her made you understand how people warred to defend their faith, when they truly believed in something so perfect.

Granted, you may have been staring open mouthed for a hot minute. Emily laughed and approached you, making the first move to greet you. She held out her hand, offering you a welcoming. You took it, genuinely excited. There was no better Seraphim in all of Heaven for them to bring you... and no more beautiful. She was captivating beyond human measure. She clutched your hands in both of hers, gushing about how pleased she was to meet a new arrival. She asked how you had found your first days, how everyone had treated you. You found the inner strength to reply, feeling incredibly subdued compared to her unearthly visage. You tell her about all the kindness, the amenities, the lovely room, and how you couldn’t believe she’d spend the time to meet you. Emily was pleased clapping and pointing towards landmarks in the distance of places to go. You looked vaguely, still struggling to look away from her, even when she began to list off some of the history of what she called the ‘winner’s circle’. She made it sound so harmonious, so perfectly safe and well designed, a true reward following a good, honourable life.

A voice from inside the courthouse called for Emily; apologetic, she made excuses to leave and wished you well. Thinking on your feet, you played a risky card; you asked her if you’d ever get to see her again, or if she’d ever want to meet up. She beamed, excited, responding positively to your interest. It seemed she hadn’t taken it as flirty, which you had intended to use as a weapon; instead, she was too innocent, too kind. She just saw the joy of sharing time with a human soul, and readily agreed to meeting with you later in the week at one of her favourite puppy-yoga coffee bars. You waved her off, still processing the uncontrollable happiness that she instils in you, just by existing near her. You wondered if that was a Seraphim power, or she was just insanely perfect. Either way, you walked off back to your room in a slight haze, excited for the meeting.

Back in your apartment, the room seemed a little brighter, a little warmer. If everyone felt this genuinely happy, this excited about the day-to-day goings on in Heaven, you could definitely understand how human souls could carry on in bliss here for millennia.

Still reminiscing, it occurs to you that you still hadn’t been allowed into the courthouse; was this off-limits to human souls? Unless on trial or something?

You absent-mindedly brush your hair, still adjusting to its soft thickness. What would you even wear to a puppy-yoga coffee bar? Did she actually expect you to do yoga? You hadn’t processed that much when she was talking, you were too focused on how her cheeks made her eyes crinkle with glee.

Next day, you set out to find the aforementioned bar, checking out what angels generally wore. There were a series of yoga sessions in back rooms, with thin glass panels between, showing off the adorable little pups of all breeds hopping around the relaxed class. All of the yoga attendees were in the usual attractive garb, whereas the casual coffee-drinkers were in streetwear; still generally preened to a high degree, but in relaxed and flowy outfits. The coffee bar itself was reminiscent of that in a seaside town; in the entryway where a long beech-coloured coffee bar with rustic seats and expansive menus lay, with flowers garnished on every ceiling beam, every corner, in every table vase. The walls were a soft magnolia with many sandy coloured artworks, all dainty and highly detailed, many of them landscapes from what you assume were the souls’ memories from earth. You could definitely get away with turning up in something casual, not dressed up for yoga, and ask her to come with you to get a yoga outfit if she insists that’s what you’re there for. That way, you’d be building more of a bond, more companionship. For the sake of information, of course. Yeah.

You treat yourself in a nearby bakery, savouring the phenomenal flavouring and perfect baking. This put some of Earth’s best foods to shame, let alone Hell.

It was... difficult to picture your time in Hell right now. It felt like being on holiday, a million miles from all of your problems and all the stresses; now, it was like being given your reward for such hard work in life. Everyone treated you as if your happiness meant so much to them, that spreading their joy would only make it nurture and grow into an ever-loving community. You couldn’t bring yourself to wish you were back in Hell itself... you just really, truly missed your found family. And some of the excitement that came with being with them. Actually, a lot of the excitement. The drive to protect your loved ones, the courage in your chest as you take on an enemy, the thrill of mid-battle.... the haze of bliss cleared fractionally, glimpsing reality behind the pseudo-perfection. This was it! How Heaven just stood by and allowed the exterminations, turning a blind eye to the agony it inflicted on real human souls, much akin to the winners up here. It was ignorance at its most dangerous, a high that could persist throughout all of time. It was the most beautifully terrifying concept you could imagine; like being constantly high on pure narcotics, never coming down, never facing any form of reality. This would be... challenging, to say the least, to keep your mind focused on helping your friends in Hell. Helping... well, what exactly was Alastor to you? Now that you were in Heaven, unable to see him, you couldn’t exactly be in a relationship, unless you got kicked out or he got redeemed, and the latter definitely wasn’t on the cards any time soon.

The more you focused, the easier it became to distinguish between the ‘blissful’ thoughts and the reality you knew. It was like having an alternate setting which you had to actively hold the button for, to continue being aware of the worlds and devastation beyond this slice of perfection.

Latching on to these thought processes, you began to create. Posters, paintings, mind maps, sketches, models; all manner of memories and logical analysis of your time in Hell, creating a consistent reminder of why you needed to focus. Having physical reminders was a game-changer, sharpening your logical mental processing and hardening your resolve. You wondered if this would work for other human souls, maybe even the Heavenborns? They can’t continue to be blissfully ignorant if the evidence was right in front of them!

The morning of your coffee session with Emily arrived insanely quickly. You’d barely slept at all, sometimes falling asleep at the desk, surrounded by smeared paints and long writing pieces, face on your arm for comfort until you would wake up again and carry on.

Getting ready was trivial, however the reflection in your mirror was far from it. You looked tired, focused, even a bit stressed.... and just a tiny bit more human. The look in your eyes and the determination you saw was the most human thing you had seen in anyone or anything since you were reborn.

Emily skipped into the coffee bar, her soft purple dress matching her eyes. She still blew you away on first sight, making you sigh from the relief of her joy hitting you once again. She approached you at the bar itself, hopping daintily on the stool, tucking in her white and lilac wings. Were they always so soft-looking?

“You can feel them if you want, they’re real!” She chuckled, raising a wing towards your reach. In amazement, you stroke the soft baby-chick feathers at the skin, whilst running your hand over the elongated flying feathers at the wingspan. You did NOT know enough about birds to understand how or why they had so many layers, so many shapes and curves, the lengths and the textures far beyond your comprehension.

Realising you had just spent a couple of minutes essentially stroking a near-strangers appendage, you drop her wing, blushing in embarrassment. She grins, relieving the discomfort in a heartbeat. “Soft, right?? I know all local angels have wings to some degree, and most human souls do too, it just takes them a while to get used to them! Have you tried out yours?”

You stare back, blinking, having completely forgotten the possibility. “Ah, right, no? I guess? How would you be able to tell if someone has them or not?”

“It’s different for everyone, some angels can just stretch in the morning and their wings pop right out, others they can’t hide them, they’re just always there, and others they’re buried and need to be unlocked by their mind!” She makes a rainbow gesture with waggling fingers in the air, comically excited by the concept.

“Sounds fair, any tips for, uh, unlocking my mind... wings?”

“Yes! It’s much harder to access them if you’re concentrating too hard. You know how.... you can picture yourself moving your arm, you can think it as hard as you want, scream it in your head, but it won’t move unless you actually... move it? Like, in your mind, your subconscious?”

“Yeah that makes sense, it’s muscle memory, right? You don’t consciously control the synapses and nervous system, it’s working in the background constantly?”

She claps, thrilled by your recognition. “Exactly! So, many humans and young angels are taught meditation to help them step back from the conscious mind, help them feel the energy flows in their body. I actually had a really hard time controlling mine when i was first born; it was all big flappy swinging and knocking into others until my family helped me!”

You smile back, caught by her infectious joy. “I’m not very good at meditation. Get too distracted. Might need a proper professional kinda level class.... do you think there’s anyone really experienced and professional that would be willing to help me?”

She considered, pausing, pouting her lips to the right in an adorable thinking expression. “I know meditation is a huge thing in the winner’s circle, but if you’ve tried it before and found it difficult, i guess i could try seeing if Rafael or Damaerja could find some time, they have amazing flight lessons too. I can ask them tonight if you bear with me? We’re not big on social media and phones here, it’s more about living in the moment!”

Chuckling, you agree, “that’s so true, everything feels so ethereal and calm here. How do you deal with humans who have come from difficult backgrounds or have a feisty streak? Also yes please, thank you for asking when you get the chance!”

“Oh, it’s not a bother, i love how interested you are in our culture and history. Raegen said you really wanted to talk more about the in-depth stuff, but i apparently got a bit off topic at the time, sorry!”

“Hey, please don’t worry! It was a pleasure, and I'm beyond grateful you’d spend any time with me at all... do i call you ‘your highness’? You are very much royalty to me.” You weren’t specifically trying to kiss-ass here, but also were laying it on thick enough to get in the Seraphim’s literal good graces.

“Please, just Emily is fine! I don’t like to feel any different from the souls, whether human or Heaven, we all deserve the same kindness and respect either way, don’t you agree?”

Keep it going, use this to your advantage. “Without a shadow of doubt. It always struck me how strange it was on Earth to be treated different on sight, to be ostracised or harmed just for not being part of someone else’s idea of what is ‘right’ or ‘enough’. At least in Heaven, there doesn’t seem to be any judgement like that!” A complete lie, blatant and direct, hitting its mark perfectly as Emily hesitates, looking around.

She lowers her voice before answering, checking the barista is far enough away. “I agree. Earth... doesn’t always make sense. But, you wanna know something? Neither does Heaven. It’s like there’s a... natural order, where someone at the top dictates everything that goes on at the bottom. Even i don’t know who that is, but someone seems to be making the decisions about who goes to Heaven, who goes to Hell... I’m still trying to work it out.” She adds a wink for the last sentence. Her candour astounded you, setting off alarm bells as the mistrust kicked in. Why would she tell you something so incredibly against everything her home portrays? She barely knew you.

She must have sensed your hesitation, leaning back and holding on to the bar with a small smile. “You know, i know who you are...”

“In the nicest way, pardon fucking me?”

She laughed, holding her torso as the giggles took over. “You think i don’t recognise the face of the soul who turned the entirety of everything we know upside down? Perhaps we should go for a wander, i have something to show you!”

You followed her in pure shock. She knew you, on sight, and trusted you?!

Emily led you across town, still pointing out her favourite hotspots and great social meetups. Towards the end of the pastel cobbled streets, tailing at the edge of the city, a span of trees and a meadow emerged. You could see angels on picnic blankets, dancing to music, sharing food, reading books. Truly picturesque, putting any imagery you once considered ‘beautiful’ to shame. Passing the last few apartment blocks, the feeling of jubilation washed over you as the scene expanded, stretching beyond anything you could see with the naked eye.

Emily had remained silent, observing you as you absorbed the exquisite sight. She caught your attention by taking your hand, holding your gaze steady as she smiled softly.

“I know what you have been through. I spent so long looking through our omnisights, watching how you had made impact after impact on the sinners, and Hellborns alike. There are imprints of your kindness all over Hell, even with the devastation from the war. I know you weren’t.... perfect, but you were one of the most perfect humans i have ever seen, to still be so resilient and loving after everything you survived.”

You were quiet, processing her words. It felt.... wrong, to be heeded in such high compliments, from such a divine being. “I... don’t think i can agree. No offence, and i really appreciate the compliment. But, you don’t seem to understand the depth of it. Hell was, well, Hell. I had to make some incredibly hard choices... I really did hurt a lot of people in the process, angels included. Even some of my friends suffered because of me. I also didn’t really cope with anything, and let people use and hurt me... there’s nothing good or vaguely ‘perfect’ about any of that. Yeah, i did still care and fight for people despite the shit i went through, but it was far worse and far harder than you got to see on, what did you say they were?”

“Omnisights. Like orbs of memories, they can watch into the past as well as present, depending on what your powers allow you to do. Being me has its perks. And i can tell you, prove to you even, you’re wrong.”

Still holding your hand, she turned to the park and led you across soft, thick green grass to a shimmering pond, with little fish and birds and bugs in a tiny ecosystem.

She faced you again, holding both hands this time. “Do you trust me?”

You nod, your breath stolen by the depth of her lilac eyes. In front of everyone, though seemingly without any attention pointed your way, she slowly backed up, step by step, into the cool waters. She guided you, still looking into your eyes as you followed her, entering the shallows. The further she went, the higher the water trailed up your ankle-length dress, making it float mesmerizingly on the blue surface as aquatic plants swirled in soft emerald ribbons around your legs. For the first time since becoming this form, you felt your heart pick up.

The water lapped at her ribs as she waded further in, stopping as the pond reached your own breasts. Her dress swayed with the motion, disturbed by the flutters of nearby aquatic life and gentle waves. She held your hands above the water, hovering between you. “Close your eyes.”

You did so, trusting her with every fibre of your being.

You felt her hands bring yours beneath the water, gently pulling you down. You took a deep breath, not nervous or afraid, but ready. You felt the cool water lapping at your neck, your face, your hair as you sank in, resting onto your knees as Emily continued to pull you. Her grasp gently guided you forward, floating you across towards her and below where you had thought the pond bed levelled out. Eyes still closed, holding your breath with surprising ease, you allowed her to carry you, slightly swaying as you felt her using her wings to propel you deeper. The slight ache in your lungs became more palpable as your air supply started to dwindle, making your hands tighten their grip to focus on holding your breath in. Emily responded back with a gentle squeeze, encouraging you to persist. She continued, pressing further and further into what seemed like a bottomless lagoon. Your eyes scrunched, your lungs burnt, your throat closed, your head spun. Still, she lowered you both, showing no signs of stopping. Tiny spots of white, green, blues and reds filled your closed eyes, accompanying the light-headedness. The pain in your oxygen-starved body began to ease as the lights took over, dulling all other senses. It was like falling asleep as your vision cleared into black and you no longer felt anything at all.

You’re awoken by brilliant white light and a soft humming sensation throughout your while body. Senses became more prominent as the seconds passed; smooth stone beneath your body as you lay supine, cool air across your dampened skin, blue hues behind the white as the light eased into darkness. You felt no pain, no physical discomfort. Opening your eyes, you see an array of stars above you, shimmering faintly in shades of periwinkle and turquoise. They seemed to move infinitesimally, creating a van-Gogh style myriad of colours and flow in the sky. Your eyes focused well enough to see the imperfections in their dances as their forms clarified, shaping into tiny lightning bugs and glowing insects, caterpillars and moths abound.

Behind the creatures lay a cavernous rock face, barely discernible in the light from the bioluminescence. You turned your head gently, observing the surrounding dome of twinkling and dancing. With ease, you sit up, bracing your hands as you move to stand. The floor is solid, damp yet unyielding and provided excellent traction on your now bare feet. Your dress clung to you, still pond-soaked. The beauty of the cave held your attention as a small part of your mind tried to work out how you got here, and why.

Stepping through, the floor remained well-lit with algae and nearby creatures as the insects cleared from your upcoming steps. You wandered to a pool of aquamarine cave-water, twinkling from reflections and organisms with mesmerizing blue shades. Peering into the water, the fractals of light dancing from the very depths within the pool hypnotised you. The shifting patterns threw rainbows and sunrays through the lagoon, as if looking up at the sun from the bottom of a lake. Silhouettes of fish pass by the light source, gliding across without hesitation, in tune with the world around them. Peace settled within you as you dipped one leg into the water, lowering into a seated position and entering your second leg. The pool felt warm to touch, as if kissed by rays of sun for many hours. Your legs waft gently, testing for current or sudden changes; you notice the land you sit on is thin, almost as if a shelf between you and the pool. You sink in, submerging to your shoulders, still circling your ankles with the flow. You bring up your knees to the underneath of the shelf and feel a strange, weighted sensation; as if gravity was drawing your knees to the land above. Steadying your breathing, taking one last lungful, you submerge fully and kick off from the shelf, propelling yourself towards the lights. Growing closer, brighter, warmer, each kick and arm stroke impelling you towards freedom.

Breaking through the surface of the water, you feel warm air across your face and squint against the midday sun.

Regaining your breath, you blink towards the horizon, seeing a span of ocean dancing in ripples of sunlight. You look across, using your arms to guide you, spotting golden sands and quaint beach huts across the distance. In front of one in particular, a lavish purple-and-red-trimmed two-storey hut, stood three figures awaiting you.

You fight against a mild current, using the propulsion of breaststroke to reach land. Finding the shore, you feel sand sinking into your toes and tiny shells tickling your feet. Ahead, you recognise the bright white, lavender and greys of Emily, still damp from her own swim. Beside her, a tall and dynamic silhouette of a blonde demon, thick maroon horns curing from her skull like a ram, eyes sharp as blades. Lilith?

Finally, to her right, you see a wider, less humanoid figure, akin to a cobra with sheets and ribbons of gold across his skin, enveloped in a beautifully decorated suit and top hat. Sir Pentious!

You approach the three, honoured to have been through such beauty to meet these incredible characters. Sir Pentious appeared emotional, clasping his hands with tear-filled doe-eyes at your arrival. Lilith appeared more curious, pleased but not surprised. Emily stood with her usual joyful regard, with a note of pride and satisfaction.

Emily stepped forward as you met the trio, still soaking wet with hair clinging to your neck and shoulders, embracing you in a tight hug. “I knew it. You are far more than you look, little anomaly. Your soul wouldn’t have made it halfway as far as you did without being special. I think we might just be able to do this.” She smiled warmly, cheeks flaming with excitement.

Lilith came forward next, offering a hand. Recognising her status as the former queen of Hell, you take it and kiss her ring with a low bow and a vague curtesy, the grace of your action hindered by the soaked dress. Rising, you meet her eyes and return a respectful smile. “Hello, Lilith. It’s an incredible honour. The first woman to ever fight for her own destiny. I’m truly in awe.”

She half-smiles, releasing your hand. “The pleasure is mine. I have been extraordinarily amused watching your antics in Hell, particularly your efforts to support and heal the sinners and Hellborn alike. You stand for true unity.”

“Thank you, i appreciate the kindness, and the amusement. My methods are perhaps.... unorthodox. Wild, clumsy, completely insane even. Speaking of, why am i here?”

Emily laughed, “because Heaven and Hell have been at war for too long, too many centuries of bloodshed for no need. You have a unique gift; being not from our universe, you have perspective and beliefs that we may never possess. Perhaps even other powerful gifts from your universe we could not yet know, but we can work on that. There will be no end to the fighting while there is ignorance in Heaven and mutiny in Hell; we wish to create a new form of peace, a truce even. Equality.”

Sir Pentious slivers forward, looking up to Emily for reassurance. She smiles at him, encouraging him to speak. “I-If i may, madame, you have created quite the ruckusssss, in both Heaven and Hell. The angelssss are afeared of a new form of poOOower, ssomething they do not know how to control. Sssssimilarly, the Overlordssss and royalty in Hell are at oddss over the power held by a meeEere human. You challenged all they know to be true. Their oncccccce measurable, ah, hierarchy is in ssssshamblesss. With both ssidesss off their game, confusssion tacticsss are in order. We may well win thisssss fight, and free the human ssoulssss from being trapped in booOOth realmssss!”

Listening to him hiss made you smile, it was cute in a strange way. Very comforting, remembering him from the show, looking just the same as his redemption in the end of the final episode. He seemed well, happy even. This could be the future for all sinners, winners and everything in between.

Emily looked back to you, sharing meaningful glances. “So, Emily, sounds like you’ve been working this all out long before i came to Heaven. Do you have a plan?”

She smirks, eyes alight with cunning and pure excitement. “I have no plan. Plans fall apart. Your instinct however has been far more powerful than anything we could concoct. So, little anomaly, what does your gut say?”

You glance between them, hope brimming in your chest in the most pure, human sensation. “I may.... have some ideas.....”

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