#and the reference to their song for Control??

[bellasmumblingsandmusings]

What Could Have Been

Chapter One

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 6.6K

Status: Ongoing

Author's note: A story about two broken people making mistakes, not being heroes and yet trying to find a way to love  themselves and each other.

Song for this Chapter: Yearning Hearts - Forgotten Odes - Eternal Eclipse : Spotify Link

A03

Entire Story Link on AO3

Spotify Playlist

Chapter One

The Ancunín Estate played host to a lavish ball, its opulent halls filled with the elite of Baldur's Gate and beyond. Astarion, draped in his most resplendent attire—a meticulously tailored white brocade shirt, its fabric whispering against his skin, embellished with intricate gold embroidery that seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight. Long sleeves adorned with delicate ruffles gently caressed his wrists, while his trousers, fashioned from the darkest of cloths, hugged his form with a sleek elegance that bespoke his aristocratic bearing. His polished boots clicked softly against the marble floors as he moved through the throng, every step a silent proclamation of his presence.

Radiating an air of amusement and aloof confidence, Astarion surveyed the festivities from the fringes of the ballroom. Though surrounded by a sea of faces, he stood apart by choice, his demeanor a careful blend of poise and concealed intensity. In the depths of his crimson eyes, a faint glimmer of darkness flickered, a silent promise of the secrets he held close to his heart.

As his gaze swept over the transformed Ancunín Estate—a place once shrouded in shadows and despair under the cruel gaze of his sire’s control, now bathed in the soft glow of candlelight and laughter—Astarion's thoughts turned inexorably to his beloved, Sima. In the midst of the glittering crowd, he longed for her presence, a beacon of light in a sea of pretense and artifice. Yet, beneath his suave exterior, a torrent of emotions churned—a potent mix of desire and determination, longing and regret.

With each polite exchange and forced smile, Astarion concealed not only his emotions, but also the true purpose of this grand affair: to reclaim Sima's heart and soul, to draw her back into his embrace. As he navigated the intricacies of courtly conversation, his mind whirled with plans and strategies, each one crafted with meticulous care to ensnare her in his web of desire and control.

While his desire to reunite with her burned fiercely, he acknowledged the potential necessity of prolonged seduction. Should his former companions dare to impede his designs, he would confront them head-on, employing any means necessary to remove the obstacles obstructing his path. Their tacit acceptance of his ascendancy, coupled with his consummate manipulation and surveillance skills, rendered their opposition insignificant.

The decision to initiate her into full vampirehood weighed heavily on his soul, a testament to the depth of his commitment and the gravity of his desires. Though he recognized the looming shift in their power dynamic, he remained steadfast in his conviction as her eventual master and sire, his resolve unyielding in the face of uncertainty.

Amidst the façade of polite society, Astarion’s now-warmed veins filled with fierce longing, his every thought consumed by the woman who held his heart in her hands. With each passing moment, his anticipation grew, a silent countdown to the moment when he could finally claim his desired prize—Sima, once and for all, by his side.

In these quiet moments between dull conversations and cutting dressing downs, Astarion's mind wandered to the past, a haunting echo overshadowed memories. For all he had gained, the absence of Sima made his triumph incomplete, a bitter reminder of the one thing he desired most but could not yet possess.

The downfall of the Nether Brain marked Astarion's ascension to prominence in Baldur's Gate, a victory that solidified his dominion over the city's underbelly. Freed from the shackles of his former master's influence, he now reigned supreme, his authority unassailable by mortal standards. Through a web of bribery, blackmail, and subterfuge, he exerted his control over the city's key figures, safeguarding his domain and advancing his clandestine agenda. Though the city's rulers tread cautiously around him, recognizing the peril of antagonizing the enigmatic vampire lord, Astarion's pact with Duke Wyll Ravengard ensured his continued autonomy, provided he operated from the shadows.

Astarion was only broken out of his reverie by the announcement of the chamberlain noting the arrivals of heroes of the realm. As the companions made their grand entrance into the hallowed halls of the Ancunín Palace, their camaraderie palpable, Astarion's gaze lingered on Karlach, Gale, and Shadowheart. Intrigued by their seamless bond, he couldn't help but marvel at their unique talents and indispensable roles within the team. Despite his confidence in his ability to best them, the courage and loyalty they displayed to one another was undeniable.

The music swelled in the grand foyer, amplifying Astarion's impatience with every passing moment of delay. In a darkened corner, he found himself pinching the bridge of his nose. Though surrounded by the opulent crowd, he watched the clock with a silent urgency, his eyes scanning for Sima's familiar figure amidst the throng. Frustration mounted with each fruitless glance, uncertainty clouding his mind as the night stretched on. Leaning against a wall, he engaged in conversation with an elder spawn, detailing Sima's appearance in hopes of spotting her. Disappointment gnawed at him as the minutes stretched into hours, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. With the looming threat of losing his prize, he sipped from his wine goblet through pursed lips, and his mind turned to prior failures.

Since assuming mastery of the palace, his spawn had multiplied under Astarion's command, a reminder of his past and a reflection of his power. Despite his efforts to train them, each encounter served as a painful reminder of his abuse under Cazador's rule, deepening his unease.

Despite his efforts, Astarion had not succeeded in erasing Sima from his thoughts over the past year. Not even close. He had tried with various lovers, both men and women, and had even attempted in some desperate moments to find solace in the company of his spawn, but they only served as painful reminders of his past abuse at his sire's hand. Each entanglement and empty carnal release deepened his sense of longing for Sima, intensifying the void she had left behind. None could match her beauty, her wit, or her intelligence—none could hold his interest as she had. His frustration and self-disgust clawed at him, his inability to replace her driving him to lash out cruelly at those who sought to fill her void. He was even disgusted with himself for not being able to find anyone better.

The spawn he had sent out to survey slinked back to Astarion, its demeanor anxious. Frustration and worry gnawed at the vampire lord, his jaw gritted and tense as the possibility of her non-arrival cast a dark cloud over his thoughts.

"What now?" Astarion snapped, his annoyance thinly veiled. "She still hasn't shown up?"

The spawn shifted nervously. "No sign of her, Master. We've looked everywhere."

Astarion rolled his eyes, a sneer playing on his lips. "Of course not. Why would she make things easy?"

The spawn swallowed hard, clearly fearful. "Sorry, Master. We've tried our best."

"Clearly not hard enough," Astarion muttered under his breath, a derisive chuckle escaping him. Louder, he said, "Keep looking. And if anyone gets in your way, deal with them. I don't care how."

The spawn nodded frantically. "Yes, Master. We'll find her, I promise."

Astarion waved a dismissive hand. "Just go. I've got better things to do than deal with your incompetence."

As the spawn hurried off to resume its search, Astarion's irritation simmered beneath the surface. The thought of Sima's continued absence grated on his nerves, threatening to ruin his plans. But he refused to let it derail him. Not when he was so close to getting what he wanted.

As the chamberlain's booming voice once again filled the grand hall with its announcement, Astarion's attention snapped away from his swirling frustrations. "The heroes of Baldur's Gate have arrived!" The words echoed through the opulent chamber, drawing everyone's gaze toward the entrance.

His heart lurched as Sima glided into view, her graceful presence accompanied by the towering figure of Wyll, now Duke Ravengard. Astarion's breath caught in his throat, caught off guard by their unexpected arrival. The sight of them together stirred a tempest within him, threatening to engulf him whole.

Surprise gave way to a surge of jealousy and resentment as he watched them approach. The image of Sima by Wyll's side fueled the flames of insecurity that smoldered within him. Despite their truce, Astarion couldn't shake the gnawing suspicion that lingered in the depths of his mind. Was this mere coincidence, or had Wyll orchestrated this meeting deliberately to rattle him?

Standing by the grand staircase, Astarion's grip tightened on the polished railing, his knuckles turning white against the ornate gold and white finery he wore. His narrowed gaze followed Sima and Wyll, his chest tight with the fever of rage which made him feel choked. The thought of them together, of Wyll stealing her away from him, ignited a fierce blaze so profound that he etched its evidence into the wood beneath his nails.

But Astarion was a master of disguise, a performer on life's grand stage. With practiced ease, he forced a mask of indifference onto his features, concealing the storm raging beneath the surface. His jaw clenched with determination, refusing to let his vulnerability show, even as the weight of his emotions threatened to crush him.

This would not be his moment of weakness, not in front of the elite of the Upper City. Astarion straightened his posture, as he suppressed the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He tightened his grip on the goblet in his hand, the nails clinking hard against the delicate crystal. He would not allow Sima, Wyll, or anyone else to see him falter. Not now, not ever.

Across the mass of the prestigious assemblage, Sima battled down her surging fear.

Her heart raced as she descended the ballroom steps, Wyll's reassuring presence by her side. Despite the ornate decor disguising the past, the echoes of betrayal lingered, too close for comfort. Her ebony curls shone like polished silk, and her dark brown eyes betrayed no hint of intrigue. Her mahogany fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against the intricate fabric of her black gown, the memories of past pain still haunting her every step. Yet, she had made a promise to Shadowheart, a promise that compelled her to confront the past, no matter how painful.

As they descended onto the ballroom floor, Sima glanced at Wyll, his steadfast support bolstering her resolve. She offered him a grateful smile, her eyes reflecting a mixture of uncertainty and determination. His reassuring squeeze on her hand sent a wave of comfort through her, easing the tension coiled in her chest.

"So, still up for being my buffer tonight?" Sima asked Wyll, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness beneath the determined facade.

Wyll nodded, his expression filled with concern. "Of course. Whatever awaits us, Sima, I'll stand by your side. I'll shield you from harm, even if it means bearing it myself."

Sima's shoulders relaxed slightly at his words, a brief moment of solace amidst the swirling chaos of emotions. She leaned into Shadowheart's embrace, exchanging pleasantries with the rest of their companions. Each hug, each shared glance, served as a silent reassurance, a reminder that she was not alone in this battle.

Across the room, Astarion's eyes followed Sima's every move, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. She felt his gaze like a physical caress, stirring a heady concoction within her—anger, longing, and a hint of fear.

When Lord Crane, a tiefling nobleman, approached her, Sima accepted his invitation to dance with a bright smile. As they glided across the floor, her movements graceful and fluid, Astarion's gaze bore into them with palpable fury.

As Sima danced with Lord Crane, she exchanged playful banter with him, her movements fluid yet guarded. She chuckled inwardly, desperately hoping that Astarion's attention was diverted elsewhere, perhaps with a newfound companion. His cutting words echoed in her mind, a painful reminder of her perceived expendability. Reflecting on her journey from Amn to Calimport, where she’d honed her skills as a bard while delving deeper into witchcraft and sorcery, she considered offering Lord Crane a tarot card reading. The occult intrigued him, but she remained cautious despite his seemingly benign demeanor.

As Sima exchanged pleasantries, even briefly with Lord Crane, the rampant indignation  caused Astarion’s veins on his neck to spike, and he couldn't bear to watch any longer. With a surge of jealousy burning in his chest, he glided through the throng of ball attendees, cutting off Lord Crane and placing a possessive hand on Sima's arm.

"Sima. Might I steal this dance from you?"

Sima felt the sudden warmth of his touch, a stark contrast to the chill of his former embrace as a spawn. She tensed instinctively, her body stiffening under his grasp. Meeting his crimson eyes, she saw a hardness that hadn't been there before, a distant glimmer of something she couldn't quite place. Sima managed a thin smile. "If the Lord Ancunín insists."

As Astarion led her onto the dance floor, she couldn't shake the feeling of being ensnared in a trap of his making.

Astarion responded with a thin smile, his eyes betraying only the briefest hint of hunger. Every word he spoke felt like a half-truth. Despite the changes in him, he still felt an unexplainable pull towards her, a magnetic force that defied logic. "You honor me with your grace," Astarion replied, his voice smooth but strained slightly on the edges. 

He guided her into the dance, his touch firm yet oddly chilly. Despite his efforts to maintain a façade of civility, there was an unmistakable edge to his movements, a hint of restraint that belied the intensity of will to possess his former love.

Astarion understood that their bodies could tell a story of their own; their dance held an undercurrent of something darker beneath the surface—a predator sizing up their prey. He drew Sima closer with effortless grace, dancing as he always had, yet there was a subtle shift in his demeanor that felt like a hunter poised to strike.

As Sima danced with Astarion, she felt a broiling fever across her skin—a mixture of rage, betrayal and anxiety. With each step, she fought to maintain a semblance of composure, her movements fluid yet guarded. She glanced at him briefly, then looked over his shoulder, carefully considering her next move. She tried to maintain a distance between them in the dance, but with every subtle attempt to pull away, he gracefully and unwaveringly drew her closer, his grip allowing no refusal.

Astarion pulled her in again, drawing her closer until they seemed to share breath. He could feel her resistance, but he kept his grip, remembering her penchant for these little games. He offered her a half-grin, his eyes glinting with a hungering gleam as they locked onto hers. Despite her attempts to hide it, he could see the fear lurking in the depths of her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over her.

As if she could ever forget how his body made her feel. Sima considered that the sheer proximity of him made her recoil and mourn in equal measure. But fancy footwork couldn't mask cruelty, malice, or arrogance. She reminded herself of this, realizing she had to be extremely cautious. He wasn't a spawn anymore; even her thoughts were not safe from his reach. While Shadowheart may have cast Protection from Evil and Good on her, shielding her from compulsion and charm, she understood she had to guard herself vigilantly tonight.

She remained deliberately silent, recognizing that the stakes of this perilous game had escalated. In this delicate waltz, speaking first meant relinquishing the upper hand.

Astarion took another step, drawing them even closer, his hand clutching her waist. His movements became subtly more aggressive, reminiscent of the deliberate strides of a stalking wolf. His gaze remained fixed on her, and in the lingering silence, she felt his lips caress her neck, his voice barely a whisper.

"Careful , darling. I could be tempted to mistake your silence for acceptance and think you enjoy being this close to me," Astarion warned, his tone laced with amusement.

Sima sharply turned, resisting his lead but managing the step gracefully. Only a master dancer could discern her attitude from the footwork.

"Oh yes, I forgot; deference is your preferred state for all your interactions now, my lord, " she retorted, her tone sharp with sarcasm.

Astarion's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at her comment, his grip tightening on her abdomen. He knew her defiance was just a game, a part of their twisted foreplay.

He smiled at her, his darkening red eyes dangerously glinting. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Would it bother you so much if you found yourself in a state of deference to me, little love?"

Sima practically clawed his shoulder and locked eyes with him as she hissed the words, "I'd rather die, my lord ."

As he’d expected. Disobedience was the essence of Sima; without it, she wouldn't be herself. He could already see she would be an intriguing mate, and her challenge promised to delight him in every way.

Astarion chuckled at her words, squeezing her the curve of her waist harder and pulling her closer to him. He felt the heat of her anger fueling those words. There was a fine line between genuine rebellion and play, and he relished dancing on that edge. Despite her anger, she seemed so vulnerable in his arms. How could he resist playing with her?

He responded with a seductive smirk on his lips, his body tightening against hers.

"And what if I were to command you?"

Sima turned with him hip to hip in a circle, her eyes burning into his, her body graceful and yet cold towards him. "I'd like to see you try your tricks on me. Perhaps I have a few tricks of my own now, my lord ," she growled back.

Every word of dissent from Sima was a powerful turn-on for Astarion. He enjoyed the tension that came with her fighting back so fiercely.

Astarion pulled her into his hips hard for a moment, then pressed his stiff cock against her, as  from his lips danced hair's breadth away from her pointed ear. He crooned the next words.

"What if I were to pin you against the wall, my sweet darling? My powerful hands holding you against it, my chest pressed against yours, while I whispered sweet nothings of domination and punishment. That must sound enticing." His voice softened, and his eyes were full of promised intent, yet there was an underlying tenderness to his words. He was enjoying this.

Sima's sigh spoke volumes, her eyes locking onto Astarion's with a mix of boredom and disgust, her body language radiating a sense of readiness. "The greatest mistake you made was thinking I was beneath you. So no, it is decidedly not."

Astarion paused for a moment, genuinely considering her words; his eyes turning into brief slits as he did so. She was not in the slightest below him, and yet the act of her being so defiant made him feel as though she were. At the same time, he was genuinely thrilled to have someone he could play with who was really playing back for once.

"I should hope you don't think I was underestimating you. But very well. Challenge accepted. I look forward to finding out just what your tricks are, sweetheart ."

As Sima continued to follow his lead, her brown eyes glinted with veiled intent. She had a plan, unlike him, and she had no intention of waxing poetic about it. That ridiculous soliloquy after he ascended still lingered in her memory. Perhaps he was intoxicated by power at the time, but who could tell? She smiled, sharp and cold, like a dagger concealed beneath silk.

"Be ready for disappointment."

Astarion's response was immediate. He erased the distance between them, his presence enveloping her. His eyes held hers with an unwavering stare, his breath ghosted against her skin. 

As the dance came to an end, Sima's gaze met his, the promise of a contest passing between them. "What is it you used to say during battle? Your rapiers held high, right… Shall we dance ?"

Astarion's eyes flickered with recognition. This was more than just a dance—it was a battle of wills. He no longer sought to woo her; his desire was to possess her, to see her submit to him. His words carried a hint of threat, his arousal fueled by her defiance.

With a wolfish grin, he replied, "With pleasure."

As he pulled her back into his arms, leading her into another dance, this time the intense volta, Sima countered with, "Terms of engagement?"

"My terms: Sima Shoker must submit to Astarion Ancunín and accept his terms of complete submission. If she wishes to be my equal after such a state of complete submission, she will earn it by proving her devotion to me as such. All other terms are non-negotiable at this stage in our relationship."

Sima scoffed as he tightly held her by the waist, guiding her through another turn to maintain appearances. "Spoken like a true former magistrate. Tell me, is there an acre of land, or is there a allotment of chattel? How boring. Let's make it interesting, shall we? You show me all your cards, and I'll show you mine."

Astarion snickered. "If you wish us to be upfront about our intentions, so be it. But if you have no chance to win, don't play at a game . You are mine in every way, my love. A mere mortal with a pathetic few levels of arcane study has no chance against a centuries-old, experienced vampire. You have only two cards to play: to submit or run. Which will it be?"

Sima's smile was sharper than ever before. She had been very busy this year. Very...very busy. She leaned in close to his ear, her lips barely brushing it. "I choose to fight."

Astarion let out a dark chortle.

"Oh, darling... You've made a truly fatal mistake, haven't you? You think, maybe in your hubris, that you can fight me ? I would drink you like milk from a chalice . Your little tricks won't work on me. I know far more secrets and have experienced far worse than you ever could. I know how to fight dirtier than you ever could. Now..."

He whispered with a drawl in her ear, the promise of pleasure hinted.

"Come on. Submit."

As he turned her and dipped her, Sima retorted again, "Now, you played your cards. Let's go back to the terms. Compulsion? Command? Old hat really , but whatever you like. Ahh..one question..very important..your misguided calls for me to submit are what? Prelude to a turn? Is that it?" She leaned into Astarion's pointed ear, each word laced with venom and anger.

"Old hat?! " Astarion replied, the mask of charm falling from his features and anger flashing in his crimson eyes. For the briefest moment, Astarion's fangs revealed themselves before disappearing again behind his lips.

"My terms have not changed, mortal . You will submit to me utterly and completely. And yes, in time, I would turn you into my equal. My beloved. My beautiful, sweet, and powerful vampire consort. But right now...

Astarion leaned close to Sima's ear.

"...You submit. Then you earn it ."

Sima nodded, his words a testament to his changed nature. "So, the same lies as before. Let me guess: I submit, and you turn me into a spawn and then a true vampire. So much for learning from your mistakes. So much for loving me. But that was the real lie, wasn't it?" As she seared the words through pursed lips, he spun and pulled her in, facing him with their arms entangled.

"Let me be clear: I will turn you into a vampire . You will be equal to me. I truly and deeply loved you." Astarion leaned close to Sima's face, his features softening just slightly as his eyes trailed to her lips.

"But I will not let you take advantage of my feelings for you. I need to know I can trust you, Sima. You also need to be able to trust me. And so, we have the terms. You submit first, and then we earn each other. Fair, no ?"

Sima pulled up her chin, defiant and proud. "My, my , you really have everything figured out, don't you?"

Astarion pulled her closer and whispered directly in her ear. His tone was a sensual hiss. " My love, you've no idea ."

Sima grasped Astarion's hand harder as they continued to dance in the ballroom, their tête-à-tête as masterful as any dancer's footwork. "So then, let the games begin. You try to use your tricks on me, your spells, and your vampiric charms. And if I lose, I suppose I lose. Now, let's discuss when I win . I've heard your terms; now hear mine."

Astarion smiled as he spun her into another dip, his eyes flashing with amusement as he trailed his nose over her cleavage, inhaling her jasmine scent. His demeanor was flirtatious, and his grin was devilish. He spoke with a breathy murmur, leaning down to whisper into her ear. "And what terms would those be, my darling?"

As he pulled her back up with a snap, a smile that would shame any devil and wither any cleric was on Sima's lips as she whispered in retaliation, "If I win, you'll let me change you back into a spawn."

Her eyes locked with his, and Astarion could tell behind those chestnut eyes she was completely and brazenly honest.

Astarion's lips parted in a cruel, mocking smile. The challenge was accepted, and the terms were set. There were nothing but the slightest of pauses in between, just long enough to savor the moment.

"Then it would appear that we have ourselves a little bet, my darling . If you manage to truly best me and take all my tricks off the table, then you may try to make me a spawn again, and I will abide by your terms."

Sima smirked. "And if you win, then you can expect me to, in time, accept true vampirism. You did say I get an adjustment period. How merciful of you ."

"My mercy knows no bounds, love." Astarion dipped her once more, only wanting to inhale that sweet scent again, his lips trailing over the swell of her bosom that he desired to devour. The game had begun.

As he raised her up, Sima let out a haughty breath and looked out to the garden. "How about the hedge maze? See if your charms are up to snuff there. As good a place as any and away from prying eyes."

Astarion nodded, a faint, secretive grin tugging at his lips. His eyes gleamed with wicked fervor. "That is indeed a lovely idea. Come, we'll take a stroll, and then we'll see just how powerful a witch you are."

Sima recoiled from Astarion's touch the moment the dance concluded, as though his grasp had scorched her flesh. She had to bite back on the wrath that welled in her. No, no, she had to be calm . So she smiled slyly and picked up the skirt of her gown.

"After you."

Astarion's smile held firm, a veneer of charm masking the tumultuous sea of emotions churning within him. His grip on her hand tightened, a subtle yet unmistakable assertion of possession as he led her beyond the ornate doors, onto the expansive, well-tended lawn that stretched before them. Bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, the manicured grounds of the estate unfolded like a canvas of natural splendor.

In every direction, the gardens sprawled in a tapestry of colors and scents, each bloom murmuring secrets of forgotten romance and whispered promises. Flowerbeds burst with vibrant hues, their petals unfurling in delicate homage to the night. Pathways meandered through the verdant expanse, inviting exploration beneath the starlit sky.

Towering trees stood sentinel along the perimeter, their branches reaching skyward in silent supplication. The gentle rustle of leaves overhead provided a soothing backdrop to their clandestine journey, yet beneath the tranquil facade, a sense of latent danger lingered in the air.

Amidst the evergreen beauty, the maze beckoned from its corner of the estate, a labyrinth of greenery waiting to ensnare the unwary. Though they had yet to enter its twisting passages, its presence loomed large in the moonlit night, a testament to the intrigue that awaited within—a dangerous game of wits and wills, where every step held the potential for betrayal or triumph.

Sima surveyed their pending battlefield, then turned her gaze to Astarion as she retrieved her bag of holding.

"I do hope you don't mind. I'll be ducking behind that hedge to make a change. Running in a gown is l ess than a fair sport ."

In response, Astarion smiled at Sima and spoke with a taunting murmur. "A woman after my own heart."

He released Sima's hand as she dove behind the hedge to change. Astarion leaned against a tree and crossed his legs, his expression relaxed and confident, seemingly content to allow Sima the chance to prepare for their game.

Shortly thereafter, Sima emerged again, the faint rustle of her attire marking her return. Clad in sleek black leathers that hugged her frame snugly, she appeared with an air of quiet confidence. Her laced boots and gloves matched the dark ensemble, while her long, loose black curls danced gently in the breeze. Astarion recognized the outfit immediately—the one she wore on the night they defeated Cazador during his Ascension. Sima raised an eyebrow, a silent gesture of challenge.

Astarion smiled with a hint of amusement at the outfit. The familiar pang of memory from the ritual was unmistakable, but that did not dim the spark of desire that flared in his eyes at her body. He glanced away and spoke with an air of detachment. "I must admit, darling, that I have missed the sight of you in this outfit."

Sima gave him a sharp smile. "Fitting, don't you think? I find it poetic, considering once I win, you'll be going through another change tonight by my magic, per our terms."

"A fitting bit of theater, in truth. One to show how the tables have turned and how the mighty have fallen, " Astarion quipped with unveiled snark as he approached her and cupped her chin, tilting her head up towards his own. His dark red eyes glinted with a certain cruel amusement, as well as lust.

Then his hungry gaze traced the contours of her body, his fingertips lingering tantalizingly close to her skin, as if savoring the anticipation of touch. With a hesitant caress, his hand followed the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, and the line of her arm until it hovered just shy of her elbow, before gently cupping her cheek.

Sima recoiled from his touch once more, as though acid poured from his fingertip, a palpable tension simmering between them. "Shall we? Use your powers to try to ensnare me as I run through the maze. If I resist and make it through the maze, I win. Understood?"

"As you wish, darling." Astarion's gaze burned with a volatile mixture of malice and desire, undeterred by her evasive maneuvers. His confidence radiated in his stance, an aura of arrogance underscored by the promise of challenge.

"Ready yourself. I shall give you a fair warning; I shall not go easy on you."

Sima met his gaze with unyielding resolve, her eyes reflecting a steely determination. "Five-minute head start?"

"Five minutes is fair, I suppose. A sporting headstart for my bride-to-be. I'd suggest using your time constructively" Astarion quipped, his arrogance and pettiness unwavering in the moment. 

Sima turned without a word, but as she reached the frame entrance of the maze, an unusual sincerity colored her tone. "Do you remember when I told you that you deserved better after 200 years of torment? Do you remember when I told you to do the ritual, thinking that was freedom?"

A hint of tenderness softened Astarion's expression as he listened to her words. "I do remember, yes. What of it?"

Sima's gaze softened, revealing a depth of emotion. "I was wrong."

A flicker of surprise crossed Astarion's features. "Wrong how, darling?"

Sima's eyes seemed to penetrate his soul. "You're not free; you're not even trapped. The ritual destroyed you. So, I was wrong."

Astarion's expression contorted with scorn and frustration, the weight of her words bearing down on him. Despite knowing the truth in her words, he couldn't afford to falter now. Amidst the tempest of emotions, the ember of his resolve burned brighter. "So...how do you solve this paradox of logic, darling? What would make me whole? What would solve the mystery of me, oh wise and powerful witch ?"

"What I promised, once I win, of course. I could even bring you mortality, or just reverse this mess. Like I said, it's been a very long and busy year." Sima adjusted a glove, as if the answer was more than evident, even with an air of nonchalance.

"And when you lose, will you allow me the same opportunity to fix you ?" A glint of defiance flashed in Astarion's eyes as he spoke, his tone laced with determination. The prospect of defeat was one he couldn’t allow in his mind.

"You wanted a true vampire and an equal. The terms are set... Not having second thoughts, are we ?" Sima cooed, the words a reminder of that fateful night, so long ago when he had tried to coerce her into becoming his spawn. Stung by the memory, Sima gritted her teeth.

"Absolutely not. And I have a feeling that neither of us is bluffing, are we?" A wry smile played on Astarion's lips as he watched Sima disappear into the maze's depths.

"I'll see you in 5 minutes."

With a determined stride, Sima silently ventured into the darkness of the hedge maze.

[stephstars08]

Rewrite The Stars

Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader

Warnings: ANGST, Tiny Bit Of Fluff, Arranged Relationship/Marriage, Forbidden Love, Arguments, Heartbreak, Weapons, Violence, Death, Controlling Behavior, Jealousy, And Possible Grammar Errors. (Let Me Know If I Missed Any!)

Summary: Before Y/N was even born she was to mate with the first son of Tonowari and Ronal who happened to be Ao’nung. Y/N was hoping that her parents would realize that Ao’nung isn’t the type of boy she wants to be with so when Neteyam and his family showed up she thought he was her escape. She believed that her and Neteyam were rewriting the stars but sadly Y/N’s hands were stayed tied to the promise her parents had already made for her.

Inspired Song: Rewrite The Stars by Zac Efron & Zendaya

Word Count: 2,356

Author’s Note: This has to be the longest story I have written in a while! I definitely suggest listening to the song before reading since it does reference some of the lyrics! THIS STORY IS ALL ANGST SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Y/N’s life started out just like every other teenage girl on Pandora till the Sully family showed up. Y/N is part of the Metkayina clan. Before she was even born she was to mate with the eldest son of the olo’eyktan who is the leader of the Metkayina clan. The eldest son of Tonowari and Ronal, who is named Ao’nung, was born first and then Y/N was.

Right when they were born their parents had them be around each as much as possible. As they grew up Y/N and Ao’nung were to always be around one another. Y/N didn’t mind it at first but as they got older Ao’nung became snobby and always made other Na’vi children feel like he was above them and better than them which Y/N wasn’t very fond of at all. She just couldn’t believe that in just a couple of years she will have to mate with him when he has an attitude that she completely despises.

Y/N has been hoping that one day her parents will realize that Ao’nung isn’t the type of guy she wants to spend the rest of her life with so when Y/N first laid eyes on the eldest son of the Sully family she was hoping that maybe that was a sign that she isn’t destined to be with Ao’nung. She was destined to be with Neteyam.

******************************

Y/N was out in the water with Tsireya on their ilus when they heard the horns signaling that the island had visitors so they made their way back to shore. Once they were close enough to the shore they got off their ilus and walked out of the water to see everyone in the village surrounding a Na’vi family that was from a different clan. Y/N could tell that they weren’t from the same clan by the darker blue of their skin and their different appearance such has their tails and arms.

Y/N noticed the younger son, Lo’ak was staring and flirting with Tsireya which made her giggle. But when Y/N looked at the older son, Neteyam she felt like she was hypnotized. When her ocean blue eyes met his yellow eyes it felt like it was just them on Pandora. When Ao’nung noticed he quickly became jealous so he wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder which made her break her intense gaze from Neteyam.

She couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed for looking at another boy in front of her own village. Everyone in the whole village knows she is to mate with Ao’nung. She was in complete awe staring at this boy that she just met. They haven’t even said a word to each other yet.

Tonowari and Ronal talked to Sully family Y/N just kept her eyes down at the sand. After Tonowari let the Sully family stay Tsireya told them she would show them where they will be staying. Everyone went their separate ways. Ao’nung and his brother Roxto left with Tsireya since their parents ordered them to help the Sully kids adapt to Metkayina ways. When Y/N reunited with her family and went back to their Marui.

******************************

Y/N decided to help the Sully kids since Y/N’a father is helping Tonowari with Jake. Y/N had created a bond with every Sully kid but you can tell that the one she’s the closest with is Neteyam. They instantly connected which Ao’nung did not like at all. He saw the way Y/N looked at Neteyam and the way Neteyam looked at Y/N. It was driving Ao’nung crazy. Y/N should only be looking at him and only him. She belongs to him. To make Neteyam back off Ao’nung told Y/N’s parents hoping that it would get Neteyam in trouble but instead it got Y/N in trouble instead.

******************************

Y/N walked into her mauri to see her parents waiting for her. She knew something was wrong by the worried look in her mom’s eyes and the sternness in her father’s eyes.

“What is going on? Is something wrong?” Y/N asked with a mixture of worry and concern in her voice. “You bet there is something wrong!” Her father snapped at her with anger in his tone which took Y/N by surprise. “Kylor please! Don’t!” Her mother pleaded to her husband. “No! She is not going to break the promise we made to Tonowari and Ronal.” Her father said which quickly made Y/N realize what was going on. “Who told you?” Y/N asked with a sigh looking down at the floor. “Ao’nung.” Her mother answered. “Of course!” Y/N said with a frustrated sigh.

“You are to stay away from that Sully boy!” Her father ordered her which made her heart sink down to her stomach. “What? Why?” Y/N asked in shock looking back up at her father. “You know why! You are to mate with Ao’nung and that Sully boy is getting in the way of that!” Her father told her in a stern tone. “But Neteyam makes me happy! He’s so sweet and caring.” Y/N told him.

“I apologize for going against your wishes but I know in my heart that I belong with Neteyam not Ao’nung.” Y/N said finally admitting it out loud. She couldn’t keep it in any longer. When she’s with Neteyam she feels safe. Neteyam is who the boy she always dreamed that she would spend the rest of her life with. That’s who she wants her happy ending with.

“You listen here!” Her father started as he walked closer to her which made Y/N’s heart begin to race. “If you choose to disobey your order you will not only be a disappointment to this family but you will be a disappointment to your fellow Na’vi ‘s as well.” Her father told her pointing one of his fingers at her. Every word that came out of her father’s mouth it felt like someone was stomping on her heart. She could feel tears forming in her eyes. “You will mate with Ao’nung and that is final.” Her father told her in a demanding voice. Y/N just stared up at her father with glassy like eyes. “Yes, father.” Y/N finally said with a slow nod as tears made their way down her face.

*****************************

After dinner Y/N went outside to sit on one of the docks with her feet in the water. She couldn’t get the conversation she had with her father out of her mind. She knows she isn’t going to be able to stay away from Neteyam but she also doesn’t want to be a disappointment in her family’s eyes.

“I’m guessing that you had a rough day, too?” She heard Neteyam say behind her. “Yes, I guess you can say that.” Y/N answered with a sigh as she stared down at the fish swimming around her feet. Neteyam sat down next to her. When she looked over at him she noticed the cut on Neteyam’s lip.

“Neteyam! Your lip!” Y/N said in shock. “What happened?” She asked him with concern in her voice and a concern look in her eyes. “Lo’ak and I got into a fight with Ao’nung and his friends.” Neteyam told her with a sigh. She saw the ashamed look he had in his eyes which ticked her off because of how many times Ao’nung has put down others he’s finally pushed the wrong one’s buttons. “What did he do?” Y/N asked him. “He was picking on Kiri.” Neteyam answered which made Y/N’s heart ache. “I’m sorry.” Y/N said in a soft voice. “It’s not your fault.” Neteyam said locking his yellow eyes with her blue eyes.

Every time Y/N looks into his eyes she feels a strong spark go through her. As they stared into each other’s eyes they leaned in. When their lips touched they felt something in them that they have never felt before. When they pulled away from the kiss Y/N felt like she was walking on air. But it didn’t last long because when she heard her father’s voice in her head she snapped back into reality and realized what she just did.

“Oh no!” Y/N said quickly standing up. “What’s wrong?” Neteyam asked quickly standing up as well. “I have to go!” Y/N said but before she could walk away Neteyam grabbed her hand. “Neteyam! Let me go!” Y/N told him in a stern tone. “Not until you tell me what is wrong!” Neteyam said in the same tone she just used. “I just broke my promise!” Y/N told him as tears started to flood her eyes. “Promise?” Neteyam asked her.

“Before I was even born my parents promised Tonowari and Ronal that I would mate with their eldest son.” Y/N told him which made Neteyam feel like he just got stabbed in the heart. “You and Ao’nung are bond to mate.” Neteyam said with a mixture of sadness and anger in his voice. Y/N just gave him a nod.

“Do you have feelings for him?” Neteyam asked her with jealousy. “It doesn’t matter.” Y/N told him with sadness as a couple tears rolled down her cheeks. “The agreement has been said and done which makes my hands tied.” She added.

Y/N got out of Neteyam’s hold and walked away leaving him standing there all alone completely heartbroken.

****************************

Since that night Y/N and Neteyam have kept their distance away from each other which didn’t last too long. When the whole village gathered Tonowari told everyone that their village is being threatened by the sky people. Seeing everyone getting riled up it was getting Y/N very scared and over whelmed so she ran away from the crowd. Neteyam knew he had to follow her.

“Y/N!” Neteyam called out to her which made her stop walking. “Why did you follow me?” Y/N asked turning around to face him. “Because I’m worried about you.” Neteyam told her. “Neteyam-“ Y/N started to say but he cut her off. “I know that you’re to mate with Ao’nung but I know you feel that same way I do.” Neteyam told her.

“When we kissed that night you had no intention pulling away.” He said as he moved closer towards her which made her heart race. Y/N knew every thing he way saying is the truth. That’s why she ain’t running away from him because she knows she can’t run away from the truth. “We are meant to be together.” Neteyam told her putting one of his hands onto her cheek. Y/N leaned into his soft touch as he stroked her cheek lightly.

Before anything else could happen they Tsireya calling Neteyam’s name which quickly made him take his hand off Y/N’s cheek. When they looked over they saw Tsireya running up to them with Ao’nung and Roxto. “Lo’ak is gone!” Tsireya told them. “What?” Y/N said in shock. “Where did he go?” Neteyam asked her with sternness in his tone even though he had a worried look in his yellow eyes. “He went to go get Payakan.” Tsireya answered him. “Kiri and Tuk left to go follow him.” Roxto added. “Let’s go! They can’t be out there by themselves.” Neteyam told them.

*****************************

After Neteyam left Y/N and everyone else with the tracker that was on Payakan Y/N got captured by Quaritch and his crew with Lo’ak, Tuk, and Tsireya. Y/N tried her best to act brave at least for Tuk but when Quaritch put the barrel of his gun to Lo’ak’s head she really thought it was over but Payakan came out of nowhere and jumped onto the ship tipping it over knocking Quaritch and some of his men into to the water. Once the ship landed safely back onto the a water Neteyam jumped aboard which made Tuk call out her bother’s name in happiness. Neteyam cut Y/N and the girls first and then Lo’ak.

Y/N followed Tsireya and Tuk off the ship but she paused when she saw Neteyam follow Lo’ak in the opposite direction. Y/N was about to follow the brothers but Tsireya told her to come with her and Tuk so she did. After the girls got into the water Y/N and Tsireya tried to get at least Tuk to safety but she got captured again. The girls knew they had to go save her so they got onto their ilus. They spotted Kiri tied up with Tuk but before they could find a way back onto the ship without getting caught they heard Lo’ak’s voice.

They found him in the water with Neteyam and a human boy so they went over to them. Y/N noticed blood in the water and before Y/N could say anything Lo’ak told them that Neteyam got hit with a bullet. They knew they had to get Neytam to a safe place so Y/N told them to help Neteyam onto her ilu. Lo’ak got onto Y/N’s ilu behind Neteyam while Tsireya let the boy ride on her ilu with her. As Y/N led they away from the ship with her ilu Tsireya told Lo’ak that Quaritch has his sisters but he knew he couldn’t go back right now since they had to get Neteyam to a safe place.

Lo’ak saw his father land on a big rock he called out to him saying Neteyam was hurt. Jake quickly saw they and Neteyam wounded so he waited until they got to him. Y/N and Lo’ak helped Jake get Neteyam onto the stone and out of the water. As the boys stood around Neteyam and helped him Y/N stood back with Tsireya. When Neytiri showed up after Jake called for her Y/N already had tears rolling down her face. It was breaking her heart looking at Neteyam in pain and hearing with voice get weaker and weaker. She was hoping that Neteyam was going to be okay but sadly their wasn’t enough hope.

Neteyam died in front of everyone. As Neytiri screamed out her son’s name everyone had tears rolling down their faces. Y/N immediately felt emptiness. When Neteyam told her that they belong together she actually believed it.

She felt like the stars were rewritten but they weren’t and she again felt like her hands were tied.

[aspoonofsugar]

That's Entertainment

The Hazbin Hotel's Pilot is called "That's Entertainment". The title is a tongue in cheeck joke, as the series is good entertainment, but it also references "That's Entertainment!", a song from The Band Wagon musical. This song is quite famous and it became an anthem of sorts for Hollywood as a whole. Here it is its final stanza:

The world is a stage The stage is a world Of entertainment!

Does it sound familiar? It should:

Alastor: After all, the world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment.

Why is there such a reference in the Pilot?

There are two reasons:

Hazbin Hotel is a series with allusions to musicals, movies, memes, fairy tales and different mythologies. All these references tie into the story and characters by commenting plotlines and arcs. So, The Band Wagon's easter egg is the same.

Both The Band Wagon and Hazbin Hotel are meta-stories. They are pieces of entertainment about making entertainment. "That's Entertainment!" (song) has something to say about musicals. "That's Entertainment" (pilot) has something to say about stories.

So, Hazbin Hotel is full of references that can be read:

On a story or character level - in the sense that they enrich the series and its protagonists

On a meta-narrative level - in the sense that they metaphorically comment on the entertainment industry

Let's analyze these two layers of reading, when it comes to some motifs and characters. Of course, let's start from one of the oldest creative minds of the universe. The very first dreamer:

Charlie: Lucifer was one of these angels. He was a dreamer with fantastical ideas for all of creation.

LUCIFER: THE GREATEST SHOWMAN

Lucifer is a dreamer both when it comes to morals (story and character level) and to creativity (meta-narrative level).

Morals - Lucifer's first big project is to share free will with humanity:

Charlie Morningstar: Together, they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the Fruit of Knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted.

Lucifer and Lilith's plan was to give humanity knowledge, so that they could challenge the system and decide for themselves how to live. It is an ideal rooted in the faith people can be amazing, when in charge of their destiny.

Creativity - Lucifer is so passionate about "creation" that he turns Hell itself into a big colorful show. A seven-ring circus full of acts and performances happening at the same time. This is the metaphorical meaning of Hell's circus motif. This realm is the greatest shit-show of all times and Lucifer is its creator. He is the Greatest Showman. After all, Lucifer's known activities are:

Its previous shows with the Seven Deadly Sins' Troupe

A theme park called LuLu World

An App similar to Ticketmaster, which is called Lucimaster

These are all linked to the entertainment industry. Isn't it strange that the King of Hell has such a specialization? Shouldn't he have control over a more strategic part of the economy, like industry, banks or health? And yet, entertainment is Lucifer's domain because deep down Hell is nothing, but a showbusiness factory.

So, Lucifer is at his root a wide-eyed idealist, both when it comes to his political stance and to his creative process. And yet, Lucifer gives up on dreaming:

Charlie: Ashamed, Lucifer lost his will to dream.

He stops seeing the good in others and loses hope for the system and people alike to change. He can't imagine a different future than the sad and lonely present he lives in.

He is stuck creating "ugly ducklings" he himself dislikes:

Lucifer: That's it… Almost there… Now presenting… the magic-tastical back flipping rubber duck! Haha! That spits fire! Hoo hoo hoo! Hold the applause please, okay. Oh, thank you, thank you. Oh god, who am I kidding? This sucks!

Lucifer's creative block is conveyed also by some details set up in the Hellaverse. For example, Helluva Boss shows another sin, who is very active in the entertainment industry.

WHEN MAMMON STOLE THE SHOWBIZ

Mammon, King of Greed apparently breaks an established pattern in Helluva Boss. In this show, every sin is introduced by a song focused on their vice.

Asmodeus, King of Lust, has House of Asmodeus:

Asmodeus: You singing love songs in my lustful lounge? Fizzarolli: Ozzie's ain't the place for sentimental sounds! Asmodeus: What'd you expect from a proprietor like us? Fizzarolli: Your demon host, Asmodeus, the embodiment of lust! Asmodeus: Give me a thrust! Fizzarolli: Bwabwabwabwa bwaaaah- Asmodeus: Show me some lust From the groin to the bust In desire, we trust In the house of Asmodeus

Beelzebub, Queen of Gluttony, has Cotton Candy:

Hey! I'm whatchu need, I'm watchu want I got it all, a carnival I'll bring you up, I'll take you down I'm sticky sweet, stuck in your teeth Like cotton candy Cotton candy (Ah-ah, ah-ah) Cotton candy (Ah-ah, ah-oh) Cotton candy (Ah-ah, ah-ah) I'm whatchu want Not watchu need (Ah-ah, ah-oh)

What about Mammon? The King of Greed has actually a lot of songs that explore his sin. Let's think about what his debut episode is called: "Mammon's magnificent musical mid-season special (ft Fizzarolli)".

Mammon doesn't sing nor performs, but the musical is still his. Fizz, who is the main character of the episode, gets only a mention.

In other words, all the songs featured in the mid-season special are Mammon's songs. They do not directly say anything about greed, but they comment on this sin in a meta-narrative way:

Octavia: Is it true this park is just a really shameless spin-off of Lucifer's far more popular Lu Lu World?

The Sin of Greed steals others' talents, so his songs are stolen songs. Loo Loo Land is the perfect example of this:

Everybody's friendly And nobody is mean No copyright infringements ever seen I have a dream (He has a dream) I'm here to tell (He's here to tell) About a magical fantastic place Called Loo Loo Land

This song has Mammon:

Profit of Lucifer and his Lu Lu World theme park

Rip off Charlie's Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow song

Possess Fizzarolli's body

The King of Greed is a talentless performer:

Asmodeus: Also, you are a waaaay better performer than Mammon ever was, and thaaat's just facts.

Still, he is good at marketing and is slowly stealing the showbusiness for himself. He organizes pageants, finds new talents to exploit and has convinced Hell's middle class that being a clown like him is the coolest thing ever:

Fizzarolli: It's not about that! It's getting to work with my idol. I just love that he's giving someone new the chance to be in the spotlight! He's an inspiration. Blitzo: Well he's- definitely something alright. I mean, I dunno, was it worth all our savings just to have him put on an over-hyped commercial, and then bitch about taxes, and then assault us with clowns, vomit, and pass out on stage? Fizzarolli: So worth it!

What does it all mean for Lucifer?

On a character level, it ties with Lucifer's depression and general sense of failure. He is a Seraphim, the King of Hell and a brilliant artist and performer. And yet, he can't stop one of his subjects from ripping off his ideas. Once again Lucifer's dreams are ruined. They become soulless and rotten. Moreover, the one doing this is a member of Lucifer's own Circus Troupe, which adds to the impression of isolation and loneliness Lucifer gives off.

On a meta-narrative level, greed is corrupting the entertainment industry, as the dreamer in charge of it feels unmotivated and uninspired. This is a pretty poignant and tongue-in-cheeck dig to the current state of things, where corporations are mass-producing empty stories. After all, Lucifer fits the Mr Alt Disney TV Trope:

A No Celebrities Were Harmed version of Walt Disney; expect him to be the animator of a world-famous cartoon character (frequently a Mocky Mouse) and/or the founder of Souvenir Land. Also expect an exaggerated interest in planned communities and/or creating a utopia, possibly with sinister undertones. He'll present said utopia in the form of a World's Fair-like exhibition, usually in his parks. Many of these characters go beyond parodying just Disney and fuse him with Howard Hughes, another mustachio'd early/Golden Age of Hollywood impresario and futurist. Hughes gradually became debilitated by severe mental illness (OCD and agoraphobia) and eventually was reduced to living in seclusion, obsessively carrying out odd habits.

Lucifer is an oddball with a Showbiz Empire in Hell. He is loosely an expy of Walt Disney and the old Hollywood, but he is now tired and unable to produce anything new. Luckily, there is a beautiful disney-like princess ready to help him.

HAZBIN HOTEL, THE GREATEST SHOW

Charlie is a disney princess with the twist she reigns in hell, rather than on a classical fairy tale kingdom. In particular, she resembles Rapunzel in both design and personality:

Both princesses wear their hair tied, but they let it loose when they use their powers. They are enthusiastic, able to inspire others, but also sheltered. So, they are a bit childish. Charlie is basically Rapunzel if Raps were met with a cynical world the moment she escaped the tower:

He's got a dream He's got a dream See, I ain't as cruel and vicious as I seem Though I do like breaking femurs You can count me with the dreamers Like everybody else I've got a dream

Inside of every demon is a rainbow! Inside every sinner is a shiny smile! Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac, Is a jolly, happy, cupcake-loving child!

Rapunzel enters a sinister inn, shares her dream and is validated and understood by a bunch of bandits. Charlie explains her goal to all of Hell and is humiliated and laughed at by everyone.

Despite this setback, Charlie is still a disney-like princess and throughout the first season she brings dreams to others. This is true especially for Lucifer:

The King of Hell's dreams are awaken by Charlie's Hazbin Hotel project in two ways.

On a character level, Charlie's Hazbin Hotel is the evolution of Lucifer's dream, as it is rooted in the belief human souls can choose goodness. Even after death:

Charlie: Don't you care, Sera? That just because someone is dead, it doesn't Mean they can't resolve to change their ways Turn the page, escape infernal blaze

On a meta-narrative level, Hazbin Hotel is the greatest show. It is a new series, which takes obvious inspiration from classics, both disney movies and musicals. However, it is still fresh and innovative. Similarly, its protagonist is a disney-like princess (Charlie), who inspires a Walt Disney expy (Lucifer). She is a creation (daughter) giving hope to her creator (father). This is why by the end of season 1, Lucifer finds some of his old creative drive, as he helps Charlie rebuild the Hotel:

Lucifer: Remedial creation for me... it's as easy as can be!

Charlie brings back both hope (story level) and entertainement (meta-narrative level) in hell:

Alastor: Hahaha, why does anyone do anything? Sheer, absolute boredom! I've lacked inspiration for decades. My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless! I've come to crave a new form of entertainment! Hahaha!

She has the talent to renew a showbiz (hell), which is mundane and aimless. She has a freshness, which catches the eye of navigated entertainers:

Alastor: She's filled with potential that I could guide Rosie: I concur Rosie and Alastor: Stick with her, you'll be on the winning side

Still, why is that so? Why is Charlie such a good entertainer?

CHARLIE: THE PERFORMATIVE DREAMER (CHARACTER LEVEL)

Charlie is entertaining because:

She tries hard to keep up her smile, even if she is suffering inside. In this sense, she is a real performer

She is so dedicated to her objective, that she is ready to do anything to reach it. In this sense, she is a true dreamer

Charlie, the performer

Alastor:Just because you see a smile don't think you know what's going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures that no matter what comes your way, you're the one in control.

Charlie is a character, who masks her negative emotions behind smiles, enthusiasm and an apparent neverending optimism. In reality, she struggles a lot with who she is:

Alastor: Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, a misguided path to redemption! Founded five days ago by Lucifer's delusional daughter, Charlotte Morningstar! Come place your fate in her inexperienced hands, as she tries to work through her daddy issues by fixing you!

Has Charlie founded the Hazbin Hotel to help sinners or to find herself a purpose? The answer is both. Charlie's project is born from genuine altruism, but also from a selfish desire to matter.

Charlie, the dreamer

Alastor: You have a dream! You wish to tell! And it's just laughable. But, hey, kid, what the hell?

Charlie's dream seems impossible, almost a delusion. And yet, Charlie keeps pursuing it, no matter what. She sings her heart out to advertise the hotel... only to be seen by everyone as a joke. Still, she keeps going. She doesn't give up on her project.

Alastor: Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself! I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure!

Seeing Charlie struggle is fun because even if she fails, she tries again. She experiments new things, she learns and she teaches. She apologizes and she forgives. She never quits. So, she is an entertainer.

Charlie: I have a dream, I'm here to tell! About a wonderful fantastic new hotel!

CHARLIE, THE PERFORMER FULL OF DREAMS (META-NARRATIVE LEVEL)

Charlie puts up a performance and follows her dream no matter what. She hides within herself a selfish motivation (fiction), but earnestly pursues her selfless dream (reality). Similarly, Hazbin Hotel is a story (fiction) with a strong heart (reality).

That is because entertainment is rooted into reality:

Anything that happens in life Can happen in a show You can make 'em laugh You can make 'em cry Anything, anything can go (That's Entertainment! - The Band Wagon)

Charlie: Does getting into a fistfight with a reporter count as entertainment…? Alastor: Hahaha! It's the purest kind, my dear: Reality! True passion!

The song states anything can be entertainment

Alastor claims that good entertainment is born from genuine passion

It is the same idea declined in different ways. Entertainment is a representation of the world, of its flaws and beauties. It is fiction, but in a sense it must stay true to itself. Just like Charlie herself is both a performative dreamer (fiction) and a performer full of dreams (reality):

She is a performative dreamer because deep down she feels she must be perfect and repress her negative feelings. Only in this way she has value. She masks herself with a pollyanna persona.

She is a performer full of dreams because she has the talent to maker her dreams come true and to become a real artist in the process. To succeed, though, she should not ignore her hidden parts. She must face reality.

THE WORLD IS A STAGE AND THE STAGE IS A WORLD OF ENTERTAINMENT

When fiction and reality meet, entertainment is born. This is what Hazbin Hotel's meta-message seems to be. A story is invented, but the feelings behind it must be genuine.

At the same time, entertainment helps people better understand themselves. This may be why Hazbin Hotel is full of entertainment motifs. Here are some:

Charlie is a singer

Vaggie is a dancer

Angel is an actor

Alastor is linked to radios

Vox is a TV demon

Valentino is a director and producer

Adam is a musician, whose arc is described by the musical "School of Rock"

Charlie and Alastor's bond is commented by the musical "Annie"

For each one of these references, one could write a meta (I hope I will for some tbh). That is how much the idea of entertainment is intertwined in the story. In conclusion, it is definately true that:

The world is a stage = Fiction must take inspiration from reality or it will feel hollow

The stage is a world = Stories can help to better understand reality and make sense of it

Hazbin Hotel is a piece of entertainment about entertainment, which is best understood through the lens of entertainment. In short, it is entertainment!

[red-akara]

oh my gosh :O

[brainworms-all-night-long]

"Liquid soundwaves pour from my eyes

My heart cries out to you, in desperation"

[madsraa]

Some backgrounds I got to paint for episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman!

The first layout was drawn by Molly Stanard

The rest were drawn by Carson Brown

[fiendpact]

tav qotd: for those with playlists, pick three songs and tell me in the tags how they describe your tav/durge <3

[juliette-cai-enthusiast]

Listening to The Good Witch and getting the most insane song envy why didn’t I write this album

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

I watched Ani BEFORE I was a star wars fan and loved it because I love starkid

Now that star wars has consumed my brain I’m scared for what this musical will do to me the next time I watch it

[analogwriting]

fjskfkd WAIT HOLD ON LMFAO

i guess the former medical student in me just has me by the throat rn bc i just realized that in my cora au, i made reader a doctor (it'll make sense i PROMISE)

THATS THREE FOR THREE WHERE READER IS A DOCTOR/HAS HEALING ABILITY LMFAO ✋✋ i am so sorry guess my former medical student brain wishes we were able to finish school xmvkdgidmcm i swear those are, like, the only ones tho pfft i just happened to do them all at once i fuckin guess 💀💀

[ghostdrinkssoup]

maybe I’m crazy but this song is strongly reminding me of the picture of dorian gray idk idk

[spooky-scary-hedgies]

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me!"

I can't stop this awful energy...

GOD DAMN RIGHT, YOU SHOULD BE SCARED OF ME.

Who is in control?

Jewel lore time!!! Buckle in. Jewel's curse is manifested by evil, hatred, and fear. He's around an evil presence, gets extremely angry or scared, you get the jist. Jewel absolutely despies and fears this curse, but that has also extended to himself. For the first few months of his life (he has amnesia), the curse would take control of him. He was essentially unconscious while the curse used his body. Innocent people got murdered by him because of this. The first ones were Amy, Sticks, and Shadow. This really took a toll on Jewel. He was still learning about the world, and his introduction being murdering people messed him up hard. He tried suppressing his trauma, but that made his mental state worse. Even after finally taking control of his curse and finding a use for it, he still resents it. He's afraid of losing control and hurting his friends. It's also caused Jewel to develop control freak tendencies. The reason he's so bratty and defiant is because of his trauma. He doesn't want anything controlling him. He knows it's wrong to lash out at and disobey others, but that looming fear of no control hovers over him.

[lhrry]

x

[faithfromanewperspective]

It seems like no coincidence that you sent me an ask right after I had a brooding session that led to me wanting to send you an ask. Here we are 🤭

Mine's unrelated to music and chronic illness though: I wanted to get your view on what being Australian is to you. Who are we? What are we? I've been having this identity crisis all my life because my ancestors are immigrants from everywhere, with different cultures, and I feel like I don't belong here despite how the land has also shaped me into who I am.

Sometimes I think at the core of the culture of Australia is loneliness/isolation and I also wanted to know your take on that too.

Hope you're well, lovely 💛💛💛

ooh. wow. hmm. i'm... not doing great as you can probably tell by the time at which i'm posting this. but i surprisingly have a lot of thoughts about this.

for me, it's a connection to one of the oldest lands there is--i've studied a lot of geology, i've had to for my degree, and because of the lack of volcanic activity for so long our land, everything about it, is real old, and that's something i have a lot of respect and reverence for. i've also been drawn to Indigenous culture and Indigenous land stewardship for the longest time: the community, the spirituality, the sense of survival and justice, the shared resources, the storytelling, the art, the connection to the land. i'm not the least bit indigenous to anywhere really so i don't really know why, but you've made me realise something writing this, i should start to go seek that out a bit more and find community and stuff in it, it might be part of what i'm longing for.

diversity and a loss and reconstruction of identity is i also think part of it too. we are so diverse, aussies are from everywhere, from those who were born to a long line of stewards of this great land, to all those who came to it from everywhere: all parts of europe, asia, new zealand--everyone's family has a story of how they came here and why, of a brand new start for one generation, and everyone after having to go through putting together the fragments and figuring out who they are, reinventing it as they face new things compared to what any of their ancestors ever have. in a way it's about deciding again and again to rediscover your home culture/s and figure out how to fit them into a context of diversity, find your people or bring a new tradition to your people, but also take tradition lightly in terms of it has to fit around survival in harsh conditions, it always does, practical comes first which I'll get into but i'd say part of it is navigating the patchwork of cultures and realising yours is never going to be everyone but also no one can take it away from you, realising that because they try, but ultimately no one who does that will ever succeed. not even the colonisers who generations down have made us forget a lot of our Indigenous culture and feel empty as a result; if you're here on this land you've got some responsibility to care for it and every generation longs for something we don't quite have: this is where it's so useful to have other cultures around, because we need to learn from each other. we do so much better when we do. (alternatively, say you grew up in sydney without saying you grew up in sydney. it's a whole world there if you haven't experienced it).

but I would say that not only loneliness and isolation but also loss of identity are core to being Australian. questioning it and finding it again, being nothing like you ever imagined. there's a lot of generational trauma written into this land that's going to take quite a while to recover. we've all left it behind in the past, we've more often than not experienced some degree of violence in doing that be it from colonisation and the way the cities we have now (aussies are drawn to cities, the stats show us as one of the most urbanised places in the world, no matter what the stereotypes are) being Not Born Of Indigenous Input to violence of poverty and being driven to crime then shipped halfway across the world away from loved ones, to violence of displacement from other lands from poverty or war or overpopulation. we're all kind of unmoored even though many don't ever show it, we're all coming from a place of having lost that deep connection to self and either trying to find it or not bothering and I think it does really show in the way we connect to each other, the way we connect to the land, the misunderstanding and exploitation and often trying to be something we're not.

but i'd also say our strength is in our survival. we're good at coming together in natural disasters, we're often really creative when it comes to getting by, we're hard working, we know we're entitled to nothing. it comes when you've lived in conditions like ours: poor soil, harsh weather--be it drought or too much rain, we've been there, we've seen it, every year and every season is like we jump to a different climate zone, our agriculture isn't suited to our climate or our soil and our cities aren't planned but we get by anyway. we're hardworking and humble and when you put an aussie in another country and another setting you really see that. and we do it like it's nothing and still think it's nothing and don't understand compliments on it, we're self-deprecating like that. survival happens if we all do well enough to get by, independence leads to interdependence, and as a result we don't like people who take too much and we want those who are struggling to succeed. we aren't all like that, sure, but you see someone trying to get ahead and getting up themselves because of it? they won't last long as an aussie. community can and will ostracise them and no one's gonna feel bad. we hate our politicians but we have them anyway. we don't let them get too big-headed, we know they will, we have artists specifically employed to make fun of them. we're not perfect at this but they're older white men (problem) we don't feel bad about bullying them even if it'd be more productive to have a diverse group of people--but then we might actually feel bad about bullying them so that won't do. politics are for show anyway to get along with other countries. aussies don't care about anything we can't see with our own eyes and touch with our own hands, preferably holding a shovel or too-big set of tongs. 'she'll be right, mate' we say but really we just don't want to deal with it. why would we when getting by for ourselves is hard enough? don't talk about abstract concepts. but behind the survival if you break into that part of our minds that longs to be seen and cared for, you might have gotten our attention even though we will never admit that kind of vulnerability (it's why so many of us find western models of therapy etc so confusing. we're hardened folk)

there's a lot of negative but we kind of live with it i guess? we don't pretend it isn't the case. and sometimes we do something good. aussies invented permaculture, for example. i'm sure there are other things right there but i can't call them to mind right now. do you know what permaculture is? go have a look into it. it's one of my favourite things. in a more academic sense we invented water sensitive urban design and biodiversity sensitive urban design as well. and we needed to from a place of survival. it's the beauty of it, it's authentic and when it's there on the ground we can touch it so it's real and other countries can then see what we do and implement it themselves. with these things having popped up in recent years i think we're in a stage of transition as a nation, we're still a patchwork of confused cultural threads trying and failing at being european with our education and agriculture models--we haven't grown into ourselves yet. we haven't realised the potential of all the cultures we have to inspire something better. we still get a bit scared of each other. we still haven't figured out who we are--and personally, looking back at my family, generations of immigrants whose children become immigrants to somewhere else, i feel like there is a lot to discover that i have no idea how to find. how to internalise. my ancestors come from all over the world, and no one has had to pull together such a diverse range of ancestral and found cultural influences until me (i should give myself credit for that. and also not just talk about it but actually do it). and then when it comes to things like religion we're skeptical but also just long to be loved. and we'll take what gives that if we don't have to talk about it, but we won't take what limits us, and i feel like we're still figuring out how to lose tradition and hierarchy while keeping the heart of all the faith traditions we have here. another thing i should investigate. because we're still trying to be someone else i think, and it's not working. so to sum it up i think we're a whole lot of unfounded potential and messy sort-of functionality. no one does it like we do. not even us.

but this is coming from someone who is strangely really connected to everyone, like it's a bit of a weird talent and a little bit hippie (but aussies are hippies too, even though the hardened country folk would never admit it and the city folk don't have time for it and that leaves the label to tasmanians and northern rivers/byron coast folk who the rest of us associate it with). like i can connect with anyone for better or worse, and i do, i can't stop myself, but it's also tiring. who needs the autonomy and freedom of the bush and the novelty and connection and opportunity of our biggest cities. i'm well suited to my career i guess, but not so much self care! and yet. the reason i know how to survive is that it's handed down from ancestors from literally everywhere. we've all brought that and faced this harsh land in the last century, and now it's up to me to do that in a modern setting with modern problems like overpopulation and biodiversity loss.

and i'll also admit a lot of my conceptulisation comes from i am australian by the seekers. i generally sing/play the song without the third verse (or whichever one is about the war) because i find that in this moment in time it's not actually the biggest thing in aussie history that shaped us--it's more a global thing we were dragged into and we do better to leave it and instead think about ancient history, about the people who came with colonisation who weren't all bad individually though they were forced into a bad situation and became many of our ancestors, about the land as a living thing with a spirit, and about the things we create.

otherwise if you're looking for something that more captures what i think you might relate to being australian and some of the generational trauma you see around you that's so woven into our country if not your immigrant family who are trying to fit in but haven't yet specifically there's bloodline by luke hemmings. you know, because at the moment i can't shut up about him or his music.

anyway, do yourself a favour (heck, do me a favour) and get out of that country town of a suburb you live in. it's very insular, possibly one of the most insular places i've seen in this land and i've been to a lot of country towns and urban precincts. we love walkable cities but we yearn for more, more enrichment in the enclosure, and so literally, get on a train and go somewhere, anywhere, and notice things. notice how they do things there. and let me know if it feels good to do that. I will mail you a go card with money on it if that's what you need. go find yourself

[radioconstructed]

⌖ HI, HEY, HELLO! IT’S ME, hi, I’m the problem, IT’S ME, SIMULCASTING LIVE ON AIR and LIVE ON CAMERA! I almost NEVER DO THAT! Are YOU tired of scam calls? I SURE AM! Let’s make these CLOWNS our little APRIL FOOLS! TUNE IN for WILD IMPROV, VOICE ACTING, SCAMMER MALDING, and COVERS OF THE SCAMMER PAYBACK SOUNDTRACK! ALL DAY!

[zainmalik]

also to add on to my post re: punk. louis’ music (faith in the future) is definitely pop punk and indie rock, and it seems like he may be leaning more into the indie and punk scene, so if that translates into his music, particularly his lyrics, it would be interesting and amazing to see