#but more than that it's like... the terrible emptiness of heaven and hell?

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 7 - Condemnation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: As you try to cope with Alastor's absence, you find solace with the King of Hell, who presents an interesting offer. However, some unexpected news from Husk forces you to rethink your plans.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, cursing, fluff, eventual smut, actual plot, Lucifer is a cunning shit, slow burn, Husk is going to be in trouble, and of course 18+

3.2k Words

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven (You're on it!)

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

The last few days (weeks?) have been a blur. It was a weird switch going from sleeping terribly because you longed to be near him - to sleeping constantly so you didn’t have to feel your body long from him. Anyone who came to your door was just told you weren’t feeling good. “Just caught a stomach bug, don’t come in! I would hate for you to catch it.”

Today you decided it’s time to finally leave your room. Charlie needs help and there are things around the hotel that need to be done before her meeting with Heaven. You aren’t one to let others down just because of your own emotional baggage.

You throw some makeup on to try to brighten your face. Usually, you wouldn’t be bothered but all the crying significantly darkened your eyes. I’d rather not let them see me like this. The less questions the better. Plastering a smile on your face, you head down to the lobby to get the list of ‘to-dos’ from Charlie. Surprisingly she isn’t there when you arrive, so you take a seat next to Angel on the floor. You lean your head against his leg as a silent ‘hello’.

“Hey toots, how ya feeling?” he says without looking up from his phone. “Better, thanks.” You say cheerfully.

“Good! Guess you and Smiles must have shared cooties ‘cause he ain’t been seen or heard from since Lucifer’s visit.” A pang hits your chest, but you try to brush it off. He’s probably just pissed off.

Charlie rushes down the stairs and scoops you into a lung crushing hug, “So so so soooooooo glad you’re feeling better! I didn’t realize how much you did around here! Could you do me a huge favor and go pick up a few things from the city and take them to my dad? He said he can meet you at this address. I have to go pack - Thank you!” Just as quickly as she came down the stairs, she hurries back, leaving you with a short list and an address.

For the first time in weeks, you leave the hotel without Alastor or his shadow close by. It’s not that you’re afraid of going out alone, but you realize you enjoyed his company more than you thought. You glance up at the radio tower as you walk away from the hotel and can make out a dark figure with glowing red eyes staring down from the window. Well at least that’s confirmation he’s still around.

You pick up the few things from a local shop and walk across the city to the address Charlie gave you. This doesn’t look right. The building you walk up to is more of an abandoned warehouse for a drug deal rather than a cozy meetup with the King of Hell. Cautiously you walk through the door which looked like it had been kicked in already. Just as expected, it’s an empty building with piles of trash scattered about. Graffiti and posters plaster the inner walls. You triple check the address on the small paper and it matches.

Sooo now what?

After waiting and pacing for a few minutes, you hear someone call out to you. You turn to see Lucifer standing outside a portal in the middle of the building.

“You didn’t actually think I stayed within the city, did you?” he chuckles as he motions for you to enter into the portal with him. Once inside you look around to see a large open room filled with…ducks? And this guy was trying to give me a hard time?

“Is – is this your office, sir?”

He boots a few ducks out of his path. “Yes, this is where I work on – important – matters. Also, no need for formalities, Lucifer is fine. Those bags for me?”

You almost forgot why you were even standing in the King’s office. All the piles of rubber ducks grabbed your attention and now you wanted to look through them out of pure curiosity. Handing over the bags, you keep scanning around the room. Lucifer notices your curious glances, “Would you – like to see my most recent project?” he asks nervously. You feel your face light up at the offer and he can’t help but mirror your excitement.

He starts to show you all the ducks he’s created, their names, what they can do. His eyes glimmer excitedly every time you display even the slightest interest in one. What feels like a mere fifteen minutes ends up becoming a couple hours. As he shows you the last of his collection, a solemn look crosses his face.

“Thank you for this. I don’t get a lot of visitors and haven’t really been able to share my work since Charlie…grew up. Plus, it’s nice to see you smile, especially after our first encounter.”

Your breath catches at the memory of that night. Not so much the crying in the arms of the devil part - rather the grief you felt shortly after. “Oh – thank you for taking the time to show me. Truthfully, I haven’t had much reason to smile lately so it’s a lovely change.”

His smile drops. There's a long pause as he fights with himself to find the right words, “Did he…Alastor I mean…hurt you that night? You can tell me. I know Charlie is close with him, so you probably don’t feel comfortable -”

“He didn’t hurt me. At least not in the physical sense.” Frowning, you curse at yourself for being too honest. You can’t help but feel at ease in his presence. He was Lucifer, King of Hell and easily the most powerful in all the seven rings. What ulterior motives could he possibly have or need? He has no reason to be anything other than genuine in his worry for you. He made it all too easy to tell him anything. Rule #1 Never trust another Overlord/Demon

He looks at you pitifully. I hate when someone looks at me like that. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” You force a smile then hang your head towards the floor to hide the truth. The wounds were too fresh. The last thing you want is another breakdown in front of him. He’s seen enough tears from me. 

Two fingers pull your chin up to his gaze, “Your eyes tell me a much different story. Tell me, does he know of your power?” he asks delicately.

Weird, Alastor never really asked me to show him what I could do. He always just said he could ‘sense’ it. Your brows gather at the realization, “Not exactly. He knows I have it, just not what I can do fully.”

He lets go of you with a sigh of relief, “Probably for the best.”

“Wait, do you – “

“I do not know, though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious. You must have something special to survive down here.” He flashes a devilish grin that makes heat rise to your cheeks.

Rule #2 Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have. Can’t hurt for the King to know, right? “Well you were gracious enough to show me your special collection. Let me show you something that’s special to me in return.”

Taking his hand, you lead him to his chair and motion for him to sit down. “Do you have anything sharp?” you ask. He hesitates slightly before grabbing a small knife from his workbench.

“So - I don’t know how this will work with the whole ‘fallen angel’ thing but...trust me?”

His worried eyes are surpassed by a warm smile, nodding for you to continue. You kneel in front of him and take his hand palm side up, “Sorry, this might hurt a little.” He flinches as you slice into his skin and golden fluid gushes from the wound. I didn’t know angelic blood was so beautiful.

Flipping his hand over, you press your lips to his knuckles. A hiss leaves your throat from the sting as the cut heals and blood disappears. Lucifer pulls his hand away to inspect his palm. “Wow…that is…..definitely something,” he breathed in amazement. His hands find yours as he stands to help you up from the floor, but he doesn't let go. Eyes widened in curiosity, “Do you feel anything when it happens?”  

You shrug, “Depends on the wound. Stuff like that just stings. Other times it feels like my body is getting ripped apart.”

Lucifer hums, drawing nervous little circles in your palms with his thumbs, “The gift of healing is something truly amazing.” He seems to lose himself in thought but continues to ghost across your skin. The light touch from his tracing sends you into full body chills.

“You're beautiful.” he whispers under his breath.

You catch his attention to pull him out of his own mind. “I’m sorry?”

“IT’S beautiful - the gift. I mean you’re beautiful too I just - I mean …” You try to hide your giggles as he continues to stammer like a schoolboy. It was refreshing to see him flustered like this, vulnerable and unsure of himself. He stops to take a breath and recollect his thoughts, “I'm sorry I’m just trying to figure out what you, of all people, could possibly want or need from that…demon.” His voice sharpened bitterly at the word. He really likes to poke the sore subjects doesn’t he.

“I didn’t need anything. And I wanted…it doesn’t matter what I wanted. He made his intentions clear that night that I was only some tool for him. He never cared. And I knew better but yet here I am - “

“Heartbroken…?” 

Tears swell in your eyes as he said the word. Uhg not again…Rule #4 Never let your weaknesses show. 

Lucifer wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you against him. He softly presses a kiss to your forehead then to each cheek, taking your fallen tears with his lips. Your body freezes at the sudden affection. This feels wrong…

“Look, I know things are getting bad out there, but I can promise you safety - true safety. You can stay here. Away from the sinners, the exorcists, him…you can be here with me and away from all the evil that floods the streets –“ “No!” you interject louder than you mean to. He cocks his head at your sudden outburst, looking offended but softens when he sees tears continue down your face. “I see why Charlie likes you so much my dear. You both try so hard to see the best in everyone and want to help. It’s unfortunate such kind souls like yours are taken advantage of far too often.” You feel his grip tighten at your waist as he presses a hand to your cheek. This feels so very wrong…Rule #3 Never bring anyone too close

You grab his wrists, not to move them away but rather to make sure they don’t travel your body any further, “I have ways of keeping myself safe, Lucifer. I appreciate your offer but I can’t…I won’t…hide away. I refuse to be caged when there are people out there that need help.”

He lets out a low chuckle and rests his forehead on yours. His eyes close as he sighs, “Your determination and stubbornness remind me so much of her…”

“Who?” you whisper.

His lips hover above yours, “Lillith.”

This IS wrong. “Luci –“

Before you can say anything else his lips interrupt yours. His kiss is gentle yet unwavering. Your body aches from how tense your body has become. Any other sinner would kill to be in your position right now, but your mind is only focused on one person – and it isn’t the one kissing you. I hate this...

Like a saving grace, Lucifer’s phone begins ringing with Charlie’s adorable baby picture lighting up the screen. He pulls away and answers it reluctantly, “Heeeey you! How’d the m – oh? Yes, we will be right there.” He hangs up with a groan and intertwines his fingers with yours, “We will have to put this to the side for now. Apparently, the meeting with Heaven didn’t go well. Charlie needs us back at the hotel.” With his free hand he opens a portal into the hotel lobby and pulls you alongside him. 

Stepping into the lobby, his hand keeps a firm grip on yours. You walk in just in time to see Charlie bursting into tears and running upstairs with Vaggie and Alastor trailing close behind her.

“Charlie wait – “ Vaggie tries to stop her but halts at the banister, knowing she is far too upset to talk right now. Lucifer finally lets go of you and rushes to follow his daughter, shoving Alastor to the side as he makes his way up the stairs.

His face twists into a snarl at the King’s boorishness. Realizing he wasn’t alone Alastor glances over his shoulder to see you staring. A strange mixture of hurt and relief fills your body seeing him for the first time since that night. He didn’t look like his usually pristine self. He looked…tired? Disheveled? Why does he look like he’s been worse off than me? As if he’s suffered just as much? You notice his smile falter as he looks back at you before turning to see Lucifer making his way back down the stairs.

“She seems to need some time alone.” Lucifer announces with a hint of hurt in his voice. Ignoring Alastor, he walks over to you and takes your hips forcefully, making you flinch at his grip. “I think it’s best I take my leave for now. Promise you’ll at least consider my offer, please? I’d hate for you to..” he glares back at Alastor to ensure he was watching, “…get hurt in any way. You’re worth protecting my dear.” He places a long kiss to your forehead and vanishes in a stream of red ribbon. 

You rub your sides where he had grabbed you to take away the sting. Your face contorts uncomfortably at the remnants of his touch and kiss. Alastor takes a step towards you almost unconsciously. You snap to his eyes, silently begging for him not to come closer. You want nothing more than to run to him, to feel his touch, his warmth, his safety but you know it'd just hurt more. He stops, offering a nod as he dissipates into his shadow without a word.

Vaggie fills you in on what happened in the meeting with Heaven. Your stomach turns at the idea of the Exorcists targeting the hotel and your friends. You know you’re going to be needed more than ever come that day. I need to be stronger; they’ll need all the help they can get.

You lay down for the evening hoping sleep would come easy but find your eyes only burning into the ceiling. The Extermination, Lucifer’s offer, Alastor…Your mind didn’t know what problem to try and figure out first. After lying awake for a couple hours, you give up and decide to go for a walk to clear your thoughts. As you walk through the lobby you give a quick smile to Husk who was closing up the bar for the night.

“And where are you off to so late?” he hollers, making you jump from the sudden break in silence. 

“Just need to clear my head, Husk. Have a good evening.” you continue walking towards the front doors. He quickly catches up and puts a paw on your shoulder, “Mind if I join? Some fresh air sounds pretty good right now.” You shake your head and step to the side for him to lead the way. 

The two of you walk in a comfortable silence around the small path circling the building. Distant yells and car horns fill the air from the city below. “Quite an exit from the King this afternoon. Sure got Al riled up.” Husk says casually. You stop dead in your tracks at the comment, “What do you mean?”

“If Al comes for a drink, it’s just that. A single drink. Tonight you would have thought he was trying to drown himself.” “If you came along to try to guilt trip me, don’t bother. He did this to himself.” you bite, continuing down the path in hopes he would drop the subject. 

Husk stops you again, “I ain’t trying to get in between whatever messed up relationship you two have, but as someone who is usually at the brunt of his bad moods, he hasn’t once bitten my head off since you came around. You have an…interesting…effect on that evil bastard.”

You shake off his hand, frustrated at the continued prodding. “That’s exactly what he is. Nothing more than a selfish, heartless -”

“He can’t be too heartless considering...” Husk stops himself seeing your head whip around. You walk back towards him, keeping your voice low, “Considering?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and takes a deep breath, “Look he never confides in me. I mean he barely speaks to me other than when he needs something. The liquor really did a number -”

You grab his shoulders to stop his rambling, “What did he say?”

“I - I didn’t even know he had the word in his vocabulary -”

“HUSK!?”

“He said…he loves you.”

If it wasn’t pounding so loudly in your ears, you could have sworn your heart stopped. Any air in your lungs felt as though it was sucked out, “What…”

“That was all he said before leaving for the radio tower. It about broke him seeing Lucifer with you. I never thought he’d say something like that out loud.” Husk says quietly, as if afraid someone else would hear the confession. You stare at him for a while, trying to process what he was saying. Your head starts to spin. Is he just trying to lie his way back to me? Why would he even tell Husk anything? Did he really lose his tongue from the liquor? “I - I need to s-sit down.” your knees buckle but Husk grabs you before you hit the ground.

“Woahh - alright yeah let’s get you inside.”

He helps you inside and sits you on the lounge chair in the lobby, “You okay kid?” 

You finally catch your breath and rest your head in your hands, “Yeah, just a lot to take in today. Thanks Husk. I’ll be good.” He takes the hint that you need a few minutes to yourself and starts to head to his room. 

“Actually wait - mind pouring me a double real quick?” you try to ask but it sounds more like a demand. Husk reluctantly walks back to the bar to pour your usual, “You uh - sure this is a good idea?”

No but fuck it.  

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you again.” you slam back the drink, not letting a drop go to waste. You needed to feel the burn to ground yourself and prepare for what you were about to do. 

Husk leaves you in the lobby. You wait a few moments to allow the liquid courage to burn through your veins, then make your way to Alastor’s radio tower.

Here we go.

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone @phamtasic @ohnah2022 

[winepresswrath]

Cannot believe at this late stage of my life I'm becoming a Gabriel fucker. Local mean jock doesn't want to be evil now, he wants to be loved. I'm slightly annoyed they didn't make Beelzebub more unhinged because the "plot" should have been at least half about them fucking up shit on an absolute rampage trying to find Gabriel, a thing everyone assumes they are doing to fry him with hellfire so they can kick off the war in a way that's advantageous to hell, BUT ACTUALLY!!! true love.

[w3irdo666]

Hi! I wasn't sure if you were accepting requests at the moment

but can I get (romantic) Alastor x Lucifer's ex Seraphim Angel wife who he left plz?

S/o eventually left Heaven and still got to keep their wings and powers before it got taken. They meet him around the time he got to Hell and they hit it off

Anything else is up to you if you'd like

Oh, interesting idea!! I'll try my best, love youuu!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

The Drug In Me Is You

Alastor x Fem!reader x ex!Lucifer

Letter count:

Tags: slightly angst, sfw, slightly possesive behaviour, depression.

Notes: I hope i understood you right!!! Enjoy!!

Lucifer was a wonderful husband.. Constantly enveloped you in love. It seemed to you that you could not dream of anything more. Romantic dates, beautiful clothes, oh, you thought that you would drown in his care.... Which is what happened. Lucifer was undoubtedly magnificent a man...But not a great husband...When you got married, your joy knew no bounds...but...

A year later, you began to notice that he began to pay less attention to you. In the evening, he no longer went to you to cuddle in bed, but just turned his back to you and fell asleep.When you wanted to hug him, threw your hand away and answered annoyed, “Leave me alone.”

One day you were walking through a magnificent garden in paradise. The beauty of nature has always delighted you. Oh, these magnificent scarlet roses.. They look so fragile that it seems that if you touch them, they will fall into small pieces... Birds sang and flew in the sky .Everything was so wonderful, you even forgot about your husband for a while...But suddenly you heard someone’s voice. Your wings trembled slightly, not expecting that someone would be there. You came closer to the source of the sound and, hiding behind a tree, looked whose it was a voice...

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt tears running down your cheeks, like blades piercing your skin.Lucifer stood with another woman. His smile....he had not smiled as much as he smiled at this woman for a long time.You were hurt, terribly. He betrayed you. You were on the verge of hysterics. Turning around, you ran away, sobbing and wiping your tears with your hands.

Everything around you seemed so fake. These light clouds. Birds, flowers, plants. You flapped your three wings and quickly flew. Where? You didn’t know, but it certainly wasn’t where you were flying from.

..............................................................................................................

The next few days were a blur. You felt terrible, you suffered. Lucifer, betrayed you? You couldn’t accept it. When Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven because he got involved with a demon, you didn’t care anymore. You used to be a very joyful archangel. Everyone called you a ray of sunshine. But now... There were black bags under your eyes because of lack of sleep. Your eyes are red, tear-stained. Your condition was immediately noticed by other angels.

“Y/n, honey, are you okay....?” One day an archangel turned to you, concerned about your condition. But she was only met with a few rude words. This alerted her. Soon the angels began to avoid you. The archangels thought about making a decision about your expulsion. But before they could do anything, you expelled yourself. Having opened the portal, you descended into hell. “If I suffer here... It won’t be worse there..” You thought.

Unfortunately, you were wrong. A few days later, you sat curled up in a ball in some alley of hell. Your clothes were torn in some places, your wings were tattered, you felt emptier than an empty glass.Your tired eyes were closed. Your face was buried in your knees. You were so tired that you didn’t even have the strength to cry. Suddenly, you heard someone’s voice. It felt like someone was talking on the radio.

"What are you doing here, dear.With those...wings.Aren't you supposed to be in heaven?" His static voice sounded confident.

You raised your head slightly and opened your eyes. You saw a strange sinner in front of you... He was different from many of those you saw here. He was dressed in a beautiful fitted red suit, his black bow tie was beautifully attached to his shirt. He had a big smile on his face, showing his yellow, sharp teeth. His eyes were calm, but you could see a slight mockery in them.He had black gloves on his hands, and in one of his hands he held a red microphone on a stick.

"W...what do you want...?" You asked in a quiet, pitiful voice. You heard him laugh slightly.

"Ah, nothing important, dear, just curious what such.... creature..like you doing here?" He tilted his head to the side with slight -crack-.

"Who are you...?" You said weakly

"Ah, name's Alastor.Pleasure to meeting you! Quite a pleasure!" He bowed while saying this. You didn't say anything, only looked down at the ground. He continued watching you for few seconds then walked closer to you, standing in front of you.

Alastor couldn't help, but when he saw you, something woke up in him.He was in hell only few month, but still made reputation of dangerous cruel demon.But when he saw your poor, beautiful body, his heart skipped a beat. He felt a strange pull to protect you.

"Such an innocent soul..." he thought

............................................................................................................

You didn't know how it happened, but you find yourself in....his apartment...? With Alastor in front of you.There was a cup of tea in front of you. You looked at your reflection in the tea. You looked terrible. Shabby dirty hair, tired face...The demon continued to look at you, drinking his coffee. His smile never fell, you didn’t even care.

Your weak hand reached for the cup of tea. Fragile fingers clasped the handle of the tea, but your hands were too weak to lift the cup. Alastor noticed this and his eyes narrowed slightly. He put his cup on the saucer. Crossing his legs, he leaned back, watching you.

No matter how he tried to find pleasure in your suffering and raise the cup, he did not feel good. He felt sympathy for you, and a desire to protect. He slowly stood up and approached you.His beautiful long fingers took a cup of tea from your hand and brought the cup to your lips. Slightly surprised by such actions, you looked at the demon.

Opening your lips slightly, you started drinking tea with small sips.

After tea and some food (Alastor feed you too) Alastor showed you way to the bathroom, you needed it.You looked like complete mess.Alastor provided you with a towel, after which you went into the bathroom.When you came out of the bath, prepared clothes were waiting for you... Or rather, a shirt and pants...

When you were changing clothes, Alastor came into the room. He was amazed by your beauty. Your hair.. your smooth skin... Ah, those beautiful wings... He felt his pulse increase.His smile and eyes began to give off shades of warmth.

..............................................................................................................

You lived with Alastor for a long time.You became very close, you started to feel better. Every evening, over a cup of tea, he listened to your worries and sufferings... Usually he would have enjoyed this, but with you, he only felt the desire to calm you down. Every day spent with Alastor gave you more strength, and made you forget Lucifer.

In a hell full of lustful sinners and murderers, you have found comfort in a dangerous demon.No, he wasn't just a demon for you, Alastor, this soul..When he woke up in the evening because of your sobs in the next room, he would sigh and get up heading towards you. When he approaches you, he will lie down next to you and hug you. He hates touching.... But for you he will do anything.He would kill for a feeling of your wings wrap around him when you relax after telling him what bothering you.

When the angels officially kicked you out of heaven, you didn't care so much anymore.You cared only about one thing...only about one person...only about Alastor.

........................................................................................................

"Alastor, where are we?" You asked as you looked around.You were in some kind of garden. Although the flowers were not as luxurious as in heaven, life was visible in them... They looked so bewitching.Alastor coughed and turned away from you. You looked at him in surprise, not understanding his behavior.

"Alastor...?" You almost reached with your hand to his shoulder, but he quickly turned to you.

"Y/n.." Alastor began. His smile was on his face as usual, but you saw the uncertainty in his eyes when he turned to you with one black rose in his hand.You lowered your hand. Oh, how beautiful this rose was... Like an angel of death...

"yes..?"

"i....love you." He extended his hand with the rose towards you. His other hand was tightly gripping his microphone. Your cheeks turned slightly red due to the blush. You felt your heart beating faster and as if butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.He turned his head away, looking away.Without wasting a second, you grabbed his wrist with one hand and turned his face in your direction with the other. Alastor tensed at the contact, but when he felt your soft, plump lips on his, he almost melted.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to penetrate. You let out a slight moan as your tongues intertwined.

After a few seconds, you pulled away each other. from each other and looked into each other's eyes. You smiled. Your cheeks were flushed with blush, but you were happy to think about it.

"I love you too."

Notes: I hope you liked it!!! Sorry that i didn't lost for a while (⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;⁠)

[sunderwight]

Thinking about the weird camaraderie that exists between demons but not angels in GO.

Have we ever seen two angels who are actually friends? Or even friendly to one another? We have met angels with a capacity to be friendly in general, but I think the closest we've come to two angels actually getting along would be Gabriel making a point to laugh at Sandalphon's terrible "can't have a war without War" line in S1.

Most scenes between the angels actually seem to have an undercurrent of absolute hostility. Teeth-clenched teamwork. No wonder it took them so long to notice that Aziraphale wasn't on the same page as the rest of them! The rest of them are barely on the same page as one another, either! When Gabriel goes against the majority vote, no one bats an eye at demoting him and wiping his memory. Michael and Uriel immediately begin vying for his job. The only times we've seen angels team up is when they're working together to bully someone else, like when they're trying to intimidate Aziraphale in S1 or going to the aftermath of the bookshop raid in S2.

Saraqael's overall neutrality towards Muriel is the closest we get to two angels in Heaven getting along, and it's more a lack of hostility than any kind of friendliness. At least until Gabriel loses his memories and Muriel shows up to spy on Aziraphale, and Aziraphale decides to be kind to both of them.

Demons, on the other hand, actually seem to form alliances and even friendships among one another. Hastur and Ligur are awful, but Hastur seems genuinely distraught over Ligur's death, not just fearful of suffering the same fate. Shax and Furfur conspire together and even though the 1940's investigation into Crowley's fraternizing doesn't work out for Furfur, it's not due to any double-crossing on Shax's part. Unlike the angels, who stick almost exclusively to making threats until the Metatron decides to try dangling a carrot at the end of the season, demons actually offer rewards to other demons when trying to work together. Beelzebub offers Crowley a promotion if he can bring them Gabriel, Furfur offers to back Shax up politically if she goes for the Duke position opening, and Crowley successfully stalls Hastur in S1 by pretending everything was a test and he's going to be put in charge of a legion as a reward for passing. They're still not great at socializing, but they're significantly ahead of the angels.

Of course, it's a fact that demons are awful to one another (Eric's treatment is really bad, they throw that random demon into holy water just to test it, "it'd be a funny world if demons went around trusting one another", etc) but they still seem more capable of forming friendships than the angels do.

I think that's because Hell cramps and crowds everyone together to try and increase their suffering and hostility, whereas Heaven isolates angels to decrease the odds of questioning or rebellion. Hell's methods are unpleasant, but it still ends up putting demons together, and some of those demons inevitably forge alliances and make friendships. Because as Crowley and Beelzebub demonstrate, demons are still social creatures with the capacity for love and affection, even if it's strongly discouraged and buried under nine million layers of trauma and a cultural mandate against kindness.

Angels are the same, but isolation makes is harder to form connections than overcrowding. Muriel and Jimbriel are both so eager to make friends, but Muriel's spent the past millennia shut in an empty office, and Gabriel has been distanced from his peers both through his position and also through Heaven's culture of fear and surveillance. He only breaks away from it when he finds something that's stronger than "choosing sides" (stronger than the fear of being rejected by Heaven and Falling, in fact strong enough that Falling seems worth it if he gets to be with someone he loves). Both Muriel and Gabriel are only able to start forming connections when they're away from Heaven.

I just think it's interesting that demons, despite being supposedly devoid of love, have an advantage in forming relationships compared to angels. Angels are supposed to love, but have far fewer opportunities to actually do so. Demons aren't supposed to love, but they make connections anyway.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Secret Love, My Escape

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

If nothing else, Lucifer was beyond faithful to his lover. He would do anything for the person he's devoted himself to. He would even risk death, all for the one he loves.

And in turn, his love would do the same...

You knew this was a foolish idea, terrible even. Sneaking out of Heaven to meet with the demons of hell. If you were ever caught, who knows what punishment you would be given? But you didn't care. You weren't just meeting with any demon, but Lucifer himself.

The love of your life.

He knew it wasn't the best idea, it would end so horribly if Heaven ever finds out. But he couldn't help himself. His love for you was far stronger than his worries.

It wasn't bad to worry, far from it in this situation. But, he couldn't let someone as wonderful as you go. He may live on forever, but he could not go an eternity without you.

He would do anything to see you, even if just for a little while.

Even if it happened like this.

This wasn't the first time you two had done this either. You've went down to Hell quite a few times, it was practically routine at this point. And you were excited every time you got to.

You loved Lucifer more than anything. You cherished him, you never wanted to go a moment without him by your side. The time spent apart, was heartbreaking.

You two are from two separate worlds, after all. Heaven frowns upon the demons and sinners in Hell, but for an angel and the king of Hell to be together like this?

You both knew what Heaven's reaction would be. And it wasn't good for either of you...

But you didn't want to think about that. Right now, you just wanted to enjoy Lucifer's company, in the little time you were granted to visit him.

This time, the two of you were having a bit of a lazy day. Normally, Lucifer would try to keep you entertained, while in the privacy of his palace walls, of course. But today, the two of you just lay together in each other's arms.

You both would talk about nothing in particular, though, you always liked hearing about his daughter Charlie and the hotel, as well as her friends, as weird and wild as they could be.

And of course, there was never a day you visited, that Lucifer didn't talk about his latest duck related creations. You didn't mind at all. You loved seeing his face light up with joy and excitement whenever he talked about them.

"So, I was thinking about making a new rubber duck. One that shoots fireworks from like, a little hat on it's head." Lucifer explains. "There have been some previous attempts, each resulting in a few tiny fires, but! I think I'm getting pretty close to perfecting it!"

You giggle. "Well, I'd love to see it once it's finished." Lucifer smiled, though it quickly vanished as he noticed the time. He sighed, you knew what that meant.

"Already?" You mutter. Lucifer nods, frowning. You sit up and breath a sigh of your own. "It seems our visits just go by faster and faster."

"Yeah..." Lucifer sits up as well. You put your hand on his. "I wish there was a way I could just stay here." As much as Lucifer would have liked to have you with him. He could not bare the thought of you having to be in this terrible place. You were better off in Heaven where you belong...

"Come on, let's get you home before the others notice." Lucifer says. You begrudgingly agreed, your chest already aching, and you haven't even left yet.

If only there were some other way...

Heaven was nice. No one could deny that. But to you, it never felt more empty without Lucifer. But that's not all. Heaven was nice. On the surface that is. You knew about what the higher ups were hiding though.

Lucifer had told you about the extermination, and the angels that Adam lead down to Hell, in attempts to destroy his daughter's hotel and kill those who called it home.

Speaking of Adam. He was dead, killed in that attack he lead. And of course, Heaven covered that up as well. So long as the citizens of Heaven were happy and unaware, there would be no chaos. No panic.

No questioning...

You knew better than to try and reveal Heaven's lies. You were only one person, after all. Though, the people of Heaven deserved to know just what kind of "paradise" they were living in.

That would only result in you being placed on trial, and eventually being forced out of Heaven.

However, speaking up would not be what caused for such a thing to happen.

No, unfortunately, you would be placed on trial, for something you'd hope you'd never be accused of.

"Y/n, for your sake, you'd better speak only the truth in this courtroom."

The head seraphim's eyes were cold and unforgiving as she looks down at you. You could only look back at her with panic, and a terrible twisting feeling in your chest.

"Have you been sneaking off down to Hell?" She asks. You open your mouth to speak, but your voice would not find you. Instead, you nod. The seraphim's eyes narrow. "And how exactly have you managed this?"

Still unable to speak, you cast your gaze downward. The seraphim's voice caused you to flinch, as she spoke your name with such venom in her voice.

"Y/n."

You look back up at her, defeated. "Sera. I think you know how..." You say weakly. Sera sighed. "This is entirely unheard of. Lucifer isn't just some ordinary demon. He is the king of of all evil. Risking your place in Heaven for him, is beyond foolish."

Your brows furrow. She speaks of Lucifer like he is some sort of monster. And you will not have it.

"You don't know anything about him." You start. "Not truly. Lucifer may be the king of Hell, but he is nothing like a demon. Deep down, he's still an angel. And you all refuse to see it, all because you do not understand him!"

You were going to be punished anyway. Might as well speak your mind.

"I love him! And I'd rather fall than go an eternity without him, and be stuck here knowing that Heaven is a scam!"

Sera looked at you silently for a moment before turning away. "Then so be it."

Your arms were suddenly being restrained by two exorcist, a third walking up behind you, sword in hand. Then you felt it...

The feeling of your wings being torn from you. You cried in agony, the sound of them falling to the ground with a thud nearly made you sick. Your arms were released, and you began to fall back.

Only you did not hit the floor, instead, you continued to fall and fall for what felt like forever.

Until finally, you collied with solid, hard ground...

When you opened your eyes, pain was the first thing you felt. Your back throbbed and your body ached. But you managed to pick yourself up, just barely keeping yourself standing.

You take a look around, and then up at the blood red sky. Yep, this was definitely Hell. You look back ahead, far in the distance, you could make out a building. Not just any building, a hotel.

You felt a twinge of hope as you start off in that direction. If this was indeed that hotel, you might have a better chance of finding Lucifer than you think.

Lucifer had started spending more time at his daughter's hotel than his own home as of recently. Only being at the palace for when you visited. If you were going to find him anywhere, it'd be there.

You walked for a long while before you finally reached the hotel. Just before the entrance is where you fell to your knees, exhausted. Your body was crying for rest, but your mind was racing. You couldn't give up now. You were so close.

Just as exhaustion started to fully set in, the doors to the hotel opened. And you make out a figure in the door way. Their voice was muffled, but you recognized just who the voice belonged to immediately.

"I'll be back shortly, Charlie! Just have to grab a few more things from home."

You forced yourself to stand, ignoring the new wave of pain and drowsiness that washed over you. Your voice cracked as you called out.

"Lucifer?"

It was indeed Lucifer. He turned his head in your direction, his eyes wide as he noticed it was you. He stood there for a moment, unable to think or speak clearly.

Was his mind playing tricks on him? How were you here? Why were you here?

You smile slightly and take a step forward. "Lucifer...Lucifer!" You cried running towards him with open arms. You stumbled slightly, but Lucifer caught you.

"Y/n...What are you doing here?"

You held onto him tightly, tears forming in your eyes. "I...I just couldn't stay away." You say before pulling away to look up at him. Lucifer stared back at you with concern, but mostly confusion. Just as he went to speak again, you leaned in and met your lips with his.

Lucifer became less tense as he melted into the kiss. He didn't know how this was happening. He was still trying to process you standing in front of him right now.

You pull back, smiling as you look him in the eyes. You move your hand up to his cheek. "I love you."

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as he felt something warm on his palm. He moved his hand off of your back, and his heart dropped at the sight of gold staining his hand.

"Y/n...Don't tell me they..."

You leaned in and rest your head on his chest. "I'm so tired Lucifer...Just, don't let me sleep for too long. Ok?"

"Y/n!?" Lucifer's panic grew as you went limp in his arms. How could he not have noticed right then?

Your wings were missing.

There was no time to ponder it now, he scooped you up into his arms and teleported back to the palace. No one else needed to gaze upon your blood, it would only raise questions and attract unwanted attention.

As soon as you two were behind closed doors, Lucifer stripped away the top of your outfit, grimacing slightly at the sight of the two long tears on your back.

He placed his hands on your back gently and inhaled. A warm glow emanated from his palms that spread throughout your back.

"Come on...Stay with me Y/n." He whispered desperately.

After a few seconds, the glow faded. He moved his hands away, the wound was fully healed. But you were still motionless.

"Y/n, please. Please come back to me." Lucifer holds you close to him, cradling your head with one hand, the other at your waist. "Please...Please don't leave me..."

Lucifer held you for hours after that, refusing to let you go or leave your side for even a second. The only hope he held onto, was the faint breathing that came from you.

He blamed himself for this. He should have just left you alone. He should have never snuck you down here like he did, for as long as he did. He should have just pushed you away.

At least then, you'd be safe.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n." Lucifer said softly. "You were hurt because of me. You fell because of me. And now, you're stuck here. And it's all my fault..."

"I'm such an idiot." Lucifer closed his eyes, tears stinging at his eyes.

"Luci...don't talk so badly about yourself."

Lucifer shot up, looking down at you with wide eyes. "Y/n?" You smile and slowly open your eyes. "Hi."

Lucifer felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. Though, he couldn't stop smiling. He sniffled a few times. "H-Hi!" He chuckles. His laughter was quickly cut short.

"Y/n. I'm so sorry this happened to you. I never meant for you to be damned to his awful place. You should be up in Heaven, in paradise. Not down here with all the evil and scum that Hell has to offer."

"Lucifer." You start. "It's not paradise. Especially not without you. I never would have been happy alone up there. It killed me anytime I had to leave you."

"But now you're stuck here forever." Lucifer says weakly. You kiss his cheek. "We're here together."

Lucifer brought you in a closer embrace. You speak again. "Thank you for healing me, Luci. I'm sorry if I scared you." Lucifer shook his head. "I'm just glad you're alive. But..." Lucifer draws back to look at you. "Are you ok with this?"

"Of course I am. You're here, and now, I'm here. I love you way too much for it to be any other way."

Lucifer smiled and kissed you softy. "I love you too."

The two of you enjoyed each other's embrace that night. Only this time, moments like this would be forever.

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere adam headcanons

contains: brief dubcon mention, manipulation, emotional/mental abuse, degradation

yandere adam

who, under all the false bravado, is insecure. cuckolded twice—and by the same man no less—how could he not be? the overwhelming anxiety of losing you haunts him. try as he might, loud vulgarities make terrible compensation for confidence.

who sabotages any meaningful relationships. what do you mean you’re lonely? this is heaven; you’re surrounded by others! the company you keep never satisfies your desire for connection, seemingly close yet just out of reach. despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to form any deep attachments. the mental isolation will wear you down and warp your thoughts. were you even worth keeping around? distraught and rejected, adam will pull you out of the depths of your despair. who needs those stains? they don’t appreciate you like he does; don’t care for you like he does. you can see it now, can’t you? he’s the only one for you.

who openly tears you down with stinging criticism, finding fault in all that you do. his denigrations are no more than projected insecurities. though he casts a confident image, he is doubtful and hesitant. his harassment is subtle; any concerns you bring up brushed off and met with admonishment. don’t be so sensitive! that’s just how he is! you must be misunderstanding him. adam himself hardly recognizes his arraignment, sending crude remarks your way merely out of habit. he’s never meant any of it, often leaving himself wondering why he pressures you so much. it’s not that he takes pleasure in your dejection, but rather that he subconsciously recognizes his own faults. he knows he’s no good for you and that you deserve better. so he tears you down as he does himself, hoping that if you have no confidence in yourself, you’ll settle for him. though he means none of what he says, don’t expect any apologies. he’s convinced himself he’s above apologies, above you.

who takes what he wants, always pushing your boundaries, never asking for permission. it’s only natural; you belong to him. i mean, who asks their toys for consent to play? things would be so much simpler if you just cooperated. who cares if he plays a little rough? you can take it. that being said, adam views you less as an object and more as an extension of him.

who’s never far. what do you mean you’re going out? don’t go anywhere just yet; he’s coming with. no matter the destination or occasion, he’ll be there. what if you never come back? what if you leave him?

who’s entitled. he was the first soul to enter heaven; he’s earned this! you think you’re too good for him or something? you should be happy that he chose you! he has plenty of sluts lined up to ride the original dick; he could easily replace you. empty threats, yet stinging all the same.

who craves your worship. paradoxical as it is, he is annoyingly conceited yet also self-deprecating. having been divorced twice, he often worries he’s inadequate. so he overcompensates confidence to the point of arrogance. his doubt in your faithfulness connects to his past trauma, so compliment his features, praise his accomplishments, and let him know just how much you appreciate and enjoy being around him. he may not say thank you, but you can tell just how much he values your opinions.

who demands your attention. evading him is nearly impossible. he’ll take offense, of course, but ultimately see it as a challenge. clearly you were ignoring him because you wanted his attention! why else would you avoid him? no worries, babe! he’s all yours! isn’t he so generous?

who shows you off, proudly announcing your relation to everyone you meet. all of heaven, perhaps even some of hell, will know of you. whether you’re with adam or not, crowds will whisper, point, and goggle as you wander. you’re his bitch, hot stuff! get used to it! he wants everyone to see just how out of reach you are. you’re his, only his

who derives no pleasure from hurting you. adam will never physically harm you. underneath that crude exterior, he truly does care for you. he can give you everything, anything! just don’t abandon him. to keep you by his side, nothing is above him.

[wordsinhaled]

Aziraphale returns to Earth, but his memory’s been wiped, like Gabriel’s was. He instinctively comes to the bookshop, but Crowley’s not there.

Muriel’s there, instead.

Muriel doesn’t really know what to do with him and Aziraphale… he doesn’t remember being Aziraphale. Just that something drew him inexorably to London, to this neighborhood, this street, this shop. He’s still wearing the bespoke new clothes he was given in Heaven, not a stitch of tan or tartan or vintage fabric anywhere on his person.

He’s subdued and pensive at first, robbed of his usual verve and lust for all of the beautiful things in life; and he doesn’t remember how he takes his tea, or even that this is his shop, actually—it couldn’t be. That’s absurd. He doesn’t believe Muriel that he is, in fact, an angel named Aziraphale. An angel owning a bookshop in Soho. Really, it couldn’t be any more fantastical if it came right out of a fantasy novel, could it?

Nina and Maggie come by, and when they see Mr. Fell’s condition Muriel very, very narrowly convinces them not to take Aziraphale to A&E right then and there.

And then Crowley shows up.

He’d stayed away, for a bit, at first. He’d wanted to stay away for always, maybe wish himself to another star entirely (not Alpha Centauri, that one was utterly out of the question, thank you very bleeding much). But being in his new, empty, hyperminimalist flat with only his plants for silent company is leagues worse than any torture hell has ever thrown at him before. It doesn’t really bring him the joy it used to. If he’s honest, which he would prefer not to be, nothing much does; but maybe that’s just what life as a demon is supposed to be. Joyless and colorless.

And so he’s taken to coming by; only for a bit, only about once a week if he’s very disciplined. Someone’s got to make sure Muriel hasn’t sold any of the books, don’t they?

And. Well. It hasn’t been that long, really, since Aziraphale left. Sometimes Crowley just walks up and down the street. Orders a nine-shot espresso from Nina. Visits Maggie’s shop, takes a listen through the records she keeps aside for him even though he’s never asked her to do it. But in the end, he finds himself back at the threshold of the bookshop, pulled there like iron to a lodestone. It’s all very… regular, very boring, very mind-numbingly bland and dull without Aziraphale there with him, and yet… it’s the only place Crowley’s found ever that feels remotely like home.

So. Crowley shows up.

But this time he looks through the window and almost discorporates on the spot, because that’s Aziraphale. That’s Aziraphale standing in the bookshop, lit gold by an afternoon sunbeam.

It’s worse, somehow, seeing him right there within reach, than it was simply remembering him. It feels a bit like being crushed slowly in a vise: a vise with great big spikes in it for good measure. Aziraphale is back. Back on Earth. Back in the bookshop, and he didn’t even look for Crowley, didn’t even try to find him—

(Of course he didn’t, Crowley reminds himself, because he’s not on their side any more. And there it is. There’s the lick of bitter, blunted anger he’s become used to, twisting round his heart alongside the aching, terrible grief he wishes he were too proud, or too disaffected, to still feel.)

He almost doesn’t go in. It would be better, not to go in, wouldn’t it? It would. He can pretend to himself, to everyone, that he’s there to look in on Maggie, or to pop into the brand new plant shop just opened a few doors over, he really has been eyeing the gorgeous Persian carpet flower hanging in the bay window. He doesn’t have one of those—

But blast it all, it’s almost like he’s summoned her because suddenly Maggie’s there with him on the pavement, and she’s a lovely girl, really, on most days, only he wishes she wouldn’t sound so distraught on this particular day, when Crowley’s already suffocating. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she’s saying. “It’s Mr. Fell. He’s back. And—I think he needs you.”

Crowley… well, he scoffs all the way to the shop door, scowls at the cheerful jingle of the bell, scoffs harder still as the door creaks shut behind him. It’s fitting that Aziraphale’s standing now turned away from the entrance, all the better not to see him skulk in. Aziraphale’d made perfectly plain that he doesn’t need him at all.

But all of Crowley’s thoughts go right out of his ridiculous, hopeless, besotted head the moment Aziraphale turns round to look at him.

He looks…

The tailored clothes he’s wearing are doing a surprising amount of wonders for him, actually. That’s Crowley’s first thought, he’s a bit ashamed to admit. The cool grey silk of the suit makes Aziraphale’s eyes an impossibly bright, crisp blue, or maybe it’s that Crowley’s forgotten somehow how blue they always were.

Crowley’s second thought is that he hates how much he’s missed him. He hates how, already, his shoulders are dropping down from where they’ve been perpetually scrunched up about his ears for weeks, just at being in the same room. He can’t stand the treacherous lump rising in his throat and the way the scent of violets follows Aziraphale everywhere and really, he’s got to thank someone in this hope-forsaken universe for the paltry sanctuary of his bloody sunglasses, because...

“Oh,” Aziraphale says to him. “Hello. I’m—”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley breathes, a little wetly.

“—Ezra,” Aziraphale finishes.

Crowley blinks. He takes a swaying step backwards. “…Ezra,” he says. And a part of him, see, a part of him is still livid, it really is, still bruised and raw and curled in on itself somewhere deep inside like a wilting blossom. But another part of him is—is confused. Aziraphale hadn’t chosen him. He knows that. He can come to terms with that. But surely… surely they aren’t going to be like this, now.

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale says, “of course. Ezra Fell. That is my name, isn’t it? And this! This is my shop. Naturally.” He smiles at Crowley beatifically. That smile, at least, seems unchanged, if the way Crowley’s chest seizes at the sight of it is anything to go by.

“Right,” Crowley says. “…Naturally.”

“And how may I help you, sir? Is there a particular title you’re looking for? Though I must tell you quite up front, I’m told I dislike selling books, but you might, if you’re very careful, be permitted to peruse them on the premises. You do look like a nice fellow, after all.”

And it’s then—only then (too late, he thinks, and isn’t he always too late?)—that Crowley begins to realize something is very, very, very wrong with Aziraphale.

[vidavalor]

👋 Hello! I love your metas and I was hoping you could help me out with something that still confuses me. All the evidence points to Crowley having had his memories taken by Heaven when he Fell, but why? Falling already punishes him and removes him as a threat, the two things which seem to be the purpose in Gabe's case, so what would the point be?

(Did I send this twice? I'm sorry if I sent it twice.)

Hello! :) Hope you're having a great night. I was making stuffing for Thanksgiving earlier so there are apples and hot apple cider for snacks tonight. (Problematic holiday, I know, but I do like the food.)

TWs for memory loss, trauma, PTSD.

I don't actually think that Crowley lost his memories when he Fell to Hell. Like you pointed out in your question when you referenced what The Metatron tried to do to Gabriel before Gabriel outsmarted them, taking memories from angels as punishment for subversion is a way of trying to keep fascist control. It's an attempt at eliminating threats to the social order of Heaven. (So are things like telling angels that they're superior to humanity and that to indulge in any human desires is beneath them, which serves a purpose of keeping them all from going to Earth and realizing how enjoyable being human is and defecting.) I don't actually see any evidence that memory loss is part of the actual Fall to Hell. If that were the case, then the memories of all the demons we've met should be suspect but the only demon we've actually met whose memory is shown to be unreliable is Crowley. We've gotten to know a half-dozen other demons over two seasons fairly well and none of them have problems remembering their times as angels that we've been shown so far. Add in the fact that S2 shows us that angels can lose their memories without being sent to Hell-- like what The Metatron tried to do to Gabriel, as well as what I think is implied happened to Muriel-- and now we have more evidence that a being can lose their memory in Heaven than we do that they lose it when they're sent to Hell.

That suggests to me that Crowley actually had his memories taken from him-- likely more than once-- while he was an angel, prior to his eventual Fall to Hell. It also makes this line make more sense:

Neil Gaiman has called Crowley "an unreliable narrator" regarding his Fall and that's a clever way of putting it, imo, because Crowley, we've come to learn, is an unreliable narrator about his entire existence pre-Fall, in the sense that he can't really remember it. He is unreliable about his Fall because he can't remember what led to it. He knows he asked a lot of questions but he doesn't remember what they were. His Fall was just what they did after they decided his inquisitiveness was irrepressible. I take the "sauntered vaguely downwards" as hinting that he lost his memories more than once and that he knows it. Crowley knows about his past more than he remembers his past, from what we've seen.

He knows he used to make stars and that he helped create gravity and build the universe. He knows some of the nebulae he made. He knows he knew Aziraphale. Knowing isn't the same as remembering, though. We know from his conversation with Gabriel that he's tried to force himself to remember things before and that it's been a very painful-- and not terribly successful-- process. I'd wager he's nearly discorporated himself more than once trying to remember Aziraphale. Most of what he knows about his past is probably what Aziraphale has told him. The rest is a blur of what he calls "looking at where the furniture isn't"-- bits and pieces without the context needed to understand them. If his memory is a room, then his experience with his memories of Heaven are basically I know that chair but... I don't know where I saw it before, if I've really seen it before, what happened the last time I saw it if I did, where it came from, who else knows about the chair, what room the chair is in, where the room is, what is in the empty spaces between the pieces of furniture, what the purpose of the room is, whether or not the chair is really a threat to me and if I can trust it, why the thought of this chair makes me feel the things I feel about it...

That's terrifying, right? That would be terrifying once and I think the fact that he's referred to as persistently asking questions and that he Fell "in the old days" where asking questions "was all you had to do to become a demon" indicates that he was damned to Hell once there eventually was one but, prior to that, he was punished with his memories taken and probably more than once.

Crowley has known nothing before but for the certainty that if he's just around that one, particular angel with the beautiful eyes that everything will be better.

[some-pers0n]

I think the idea of a "heaven is corrupt" sort of storyline could be a neat way to explore the faults of the church and how religion distorts the word of God and turns a faith that should be about love and taking care of one another under the light of the Lord into a means to demonize and other those who aren't "normal", but is kinda wasted in Hazbin Hotel from a lack of understanding of how it works and favours a less nuanced approach.

Throughout history, Christianity has been used to justify discrimination. Demonizing sex and saying sex workers and those who partake in casual sex will be damned. Addicts and the mentally ill are seen as demon-possessed (or demons themselves) and are sent to hell. Of how people justified themselves in colonizing other countries and massacring these people whom they arbitrarily deemed to be unwanted and unlovable in the eyes of God. Twisting His words into hate and viewing those who go against Him in some way, even if it's as small as enjoying sex outside of reproductive means, as sinners undeserving of redemption.

Redemption of sinners I view as being the main theme of Hazbin. Yes, there are murderers and terrible people down there, but does that mean they aren't possible of redemption and salvation? These sinners aren't much different than the saved in heaven. Still human and still capable of kindness and care. Charlie's optimism and hope for salvation and redemption in the sinners contrasts with heaven deeming that they cannot become better people and are better off dead.

Which is a shame since Hazbin seems to take a somewhat black-and-white approach to it all. Adam is so bluntly evil and it kinda takes the fun out of it. I get it because there's also not real subtly with how real Christians see nothing wrong with their hate and say the most outlandish things possible because it just Makes Sense to them, but Adam straight up saying that they kill sinners for fun is too straightforward this early on.

I personally would've preferred it to be more nuanced, or at the very least heaven just attempting to be kind and perfect. An aura of fake-niceness that makes it seem like it's some peaceful and idyllic place, but it only is meant for those who apply themselves to impossible demands and refuses to believe in redemption. Wouldn't it be nice if Charlie harked back to the idea that Christianity is about loving thy neighbour and that Jesus died for our sins? That, if God's love is endless and He forgives all, hell should be empty? Bring up the hypocrisy and how His words are used as a means to hurt and divide rather than bring together community and support.

But where's the fun in that? How am I supposed to know I should root for the red demons and not the angels if they don't make it extremely clear I should hate them? Nuance is stupid anyways.

[stories4thepack]

An honour (part 2)

Wednesday x fem!reader

Warnings: slight blood, mention of death, sump Wednesday, dead reader, flashbacks

Wednesday cannot cope without you. So what happens when you pay her a visit?

You were gone...

Wednesday had held your body for what felt like hours, sorrow tearing her from the inside out. She wanted to cry but couldn’t. She felt numb. The pain so much worse than what she had already been through that night.

Nothing could hurt more than losing you.

“Wednesday,”

Enid muttered from behind her, snapping Wednesday out of her thoughts. The Raven hair had her hands on her typewriter but had been staring at the empty page for- she checks the clock on the wall- 87 minutes. It was maddening that the only thing on her mind was you.

“Wednesday, her funeral was beautiful. She had a ring of flowers on her gravestone and Yoko had placed a photo of the group into her coffin. Her playlist was playing in the background, you know, she listened to a lot of sad music, so it was quite suiting-”

Enid sobs, cutting off the rest of her words. And suddenly, Wednesday was kneeling beside you, your coughs cutting off your last few words. Wednesday could see the blood pouring out your mouth, the wounds that sunk so deep into your gut, your weak smile as the last thing you looked at was Wednesday.

“It's been an honor.”

Your weak voice cut through the silence in Wednesday’s ears, repeating until suddenly she couldn’t take it anymore. She stood from her chair, snapping out of her memory.

“I'm going for a walk.”

Wednesday muttered, storming past the crying werewolf, slamming the door shut behind her. The walk out of the school and into Jericho passed by in a blur. All she could do was picture the blood covering her hands, and the sudden drop in your chest as you gave your final breath. She hadn't even realized where she was going until she stood in front of your grave, the earth pilled in a lump above your coffin. Freshly buried. Usually a new dig site excited her, but she couldn’t feel anything, knowing it was you beneath her feet.

She hadn’t gone to your funeral. She couldn’t bring herself to do so…

She didn’t want to be met with a hundred sympathetic eyes and hear the dozen apologies from her classmates. She didn’t want to see the tears rolling down the pupils’ cheeks, most of whom treated you like dirt anyway. They shouldn't be allowed to mourn; they should be the ones 6 feet-under. Not you.

At first, she couldn’t move, afraid that her brain would torture her with more images of your hands lying limp in hers.

“I never got to thank you.”

Wednesday finally spoke, staring at your name carved into the gravestone. Somehow, she managed to keep her voice monotone and steady, even though she felt like screaming on the inside. She was an Addams, and she would never show that kind of extreme emotion. But she hoped that if you really were listening from the warm heaven of hell, that you heard the emotion she kept hidden inside herself.

“I never got to tell you so many things. You were not meant to be the one to die.”

She hadn’t realized it was raining until her blazer was soaked through to her skin, weighing her down. She hadn’t brought an umbrella, but she didn’t want to worry about that. She just wanted you to hear her voice, to hear what she never got to tell you.

“You somehow got close to me, somehow made me care.”

She walked around to your gravestone, kneeling beside it, her voice so much quieter now.

“I wish I could see your smile, hear you laugh, listen to another one of your torturously terrible jokes.”

She placed her hand on the side of the stone, tracing your name with a gentleness even she didn’t know she was capable of.

“I am so sorry.”

And suddenly, the rain was no longer pounding on top of her, she looked up and saw a black umbrella held above her. Frustration filled her body, not wanting to be interrupted in a moment of weakness.

“Enid, I do not need you to come here to be with me for ‘emotional support’!”

She hisses, standing from your grave

“Guess again,”

Wednesday spun around, her eyes wide when she saw your face. The bright, life filled glow returned to your eyes, your annoying, cocky smile on your face.

“And I don’t want you apologizing, I threw myself at the Hyde, I died because of it.”

Wednesday’s hand went to your face, feeling the warmth beneath your skin as you tilted your head to rest your cheek in her palm. Your eyes never strayed from hers.

“Mutt”

Wednesday said, her body was beginning to shake for so many reasons: the cold, her shock, but mainly because of her longing to be in your arms.

Which is exactly what happened, as you pulled her into your chest with your free arm, resting your chin on top of her head. The umbrella swaying slightly in the wind above the two of you. You kissed the top of her head, silently hoping that she would be alright with the contact, but the way she snuggled closer to you made you feel alright about breaking her rules.

“How are you here?”

Wednesday asked, pulling away from your slightly damp frame, the water from her clothes soaking into yours. You smiled, shaking your head and shrugging.

“Your having a vision”

You comment, gesturing behind her to Wednesdays body seizing up on the floor, her eyes tightly closed but a faint smile on her lips.

You looked into her eyes as she turned back around, and suddenly the images of that night flashed before your eyes, making you cry out as you clutched your gut. Wednesday immediately grasped your arm, moving it away as she lifted your white shirt to check for wounds. Thick, dark scars littered your skin as a reminder of how you had died.

“Sorry, I just, it hurt. That night hurt so much,”

A tear slides down your cheek and, ignoring her better judgment, Wednesday wiped it away with her thumb. Summoning another smile onto your face

“And it didn’t just hurt physically. Wednesday, leaving you. Hurting you. When I looked into your eyes, I thought I would never see you again. It tore me apart. I am so sorry.”

And your crying, for the first time, Wednesday was seeing you cry, and she was the reason. She grasped your hand, intertwining your fingers as you had in your final moments.

“There is so much Wednesday, I wanted to tell you.”

“You do know that you are right here with me, you can just say those things now.”

You chuckled at the calmness trying to cover Wednesday’s shaky voice. You were the only one who could see behind the death stares and gruesome murder novels. You went silent, grip tightening slightly round Wednesday’s hand.

“I want to show you...”

Wednesday gave one, curt nod at your words before your lips were on hers. Kissing her with gentle passion, as if you were testing the waters to see if it was safe. It was when Wednesday firmly kissed you back, that you really sunk into her. You hand was on the back of her head, fingers twirling through her hair as she clawed at your back desperately. The umbrella fell from your hand as it went around the Raven hairs waist, allowing the rain to pour down on you as well. It was a good few minutes, before you pulled away. Your cocky grin on back on your face.

“You have no idea how much it broke me thinking that I would never be able to that!”

“I think I know very well what it’s like.”

Wednesday stated, kissing you again, capturing your lips in desperation. The rain began to soak your hair, your skin showing under your drenched shirt. You pull away, wanting to look at the girl you loved one last time.

“You are so beautiful, like an angel…”

Wednesday scowled, glaring at you as you complimented her.

“Never call me that,”

“I’m sorry my Raven.”

“Better”

She muttered, both your eyes drawn to the sound of Wednesdays body coughing from the floor.

“I say we have another minute at most.”

You muttered, smiling at her before kissing her briefly. Your eyes begin to loose the brightness that Wednesday had longed for ever since you died.

“I don’t want to loose you again!”

She states, hand clutching yours tightly. You chuckled, the sound making Wednesdays cold heart flutter. You brushed her cheek with the back of your hand, your body slowly growing colder under her touch.

“You’ll see me again.”

“And how do you know?”

You looked at Wednesdays body, her chest rising at a steady rhythm. A few seconds left.

“Because you will never let me go that easily.”

You kissed her head, before slowly slipping your arms from her hands. Your heart breaking as you did so.

“Your a mutt.”

Wednesday states as you pull your hand from her grasp. You chuckled again, face slowly growing pale.

“But I’m your mutt!”

You smile before Wednesdays eyes snap open, the rain already soaked her face, Thing sits beside her, attempting to hold the umbrella over her body, struggling without another hand to help him out.

“See you soon Wednesday…”

You muttered to yourself as you watched her wake from her vision. Already missing the gentle touch that she had reserved for you.

Only for you….

[foodforthought00]

not defending ray but also not feeling as bad for sand? Somehow ray is breaking my heart more than sand. Hell even mew's situation hurts more than Sand's.

Ray's reactions feels like a direct result of Sand's flippant attitude towards their situationship, atleast verbally. We find Ray's insults jarring because they come in the form of angry outbursts whereas Sand's jabs feel muted. "I'll never make someone like you my boyfriend." "It's your business, why should I care." "We were never friends from the get go." Most recent one and a couple other that I probably can't remember. Can we honestly say these aren't hurtful? Not to mention the fiasco with outing our cheating couple. Ray's mind is feeble and his sense of self worth even more so. Their relationship was transactional, then physical and after Ray's persistent pestering bloomed into something more. But it was ray pestering and paying his way into Sand's life. Also sand is very quick to deny any proper connection between them. He's also quick to shut down Ray's advances. Two instances are on the bed in ep5 and at the pool table in the next epi. In both cases Ray tried and was sent packing as Sand's defense mechanism and revenge kicks in.

Is Ray expected to assume sand has romantic feelings for him? Nah, I'm not half as damaged as ray is and even I don't have it in me to assume the feelings of a partner who has been very vocal of their disinterest in pursuing anything romantic. Just nope. Not happening. One minute he's saying they will never be and in another he treats and acts like there is nothing more lovable than ray. Hell it's gives me a whiplash let alone ray.

Ray in episode 8 is confused to high heaven because he feels something precious slip away and at the same time isn't aware of what it is. He has what he has always wanted but something feels empty. And for the life of him, he can't piece together what it is. He seems annoyed angry and scared. That people he loves will only ever see his worth in pursuit of something else and not just him as a person. Also he would feel terribly ill at ease even if he does put a finger on Sand's emotions because why? Why does he have feelings for him, if at all he has any and even this realization happens at a turtle's pace and hits home when he is high and probably sink in during next episode.

We all accept the love we think we deserve, in Ray's case it's the love he can get his hands on. Mew is willing at the moment and sand isn't. I would like emphasise once again that mew has expressed his love for ray verbally and by being there for him thru the years. Only person to say 'i love you' while holding a broken and ugly ray. Sand, for all the love he feels for ray hasn't been able to verbalise his feelings because of the intensity and the potential it holds in ruining him.

While Ray's actions aren't excusable it really isn't fair to condemn him when the people around him are messing with his fragile psyche left right and centre by acting and speaking in polarity. Sand can probably swim to shore but ray and mew are in a precarious position where they seem more liable to drowning than swimming...

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thank your for your service 🫡 it’s really appreciated 🫶

Is there any Romeo and Juliet AU? I would looove to read one!

Have a nice dayyy

Hi. I'm not aware of an out-and-out AU, but here are some fics featuring or referencing Romeo and Juliet...

if i profane by Waywarder (T)

“I think I’d like to be in a play someday,” Aziraphale pivoted. “Oh, it must be absolutely thrilling.” “How’s that?” “Oh, I don’t pretend to really know,” Aziraphale went on, brightening a little. “But I imagine that it must feel quite freeing to lose oneself in a character. To get to live inside romantic, beautiful stories, if only for a moment. To simply do whatever the poetry tells you to do.” And a positively terrible idea crept into Crowley’s head. After their sixth showing of Romeo & Juliet, Aziraphale and Crowley drink and argue about the play and, eventually, Crowley comes up with an idea.

Arms, take your last embrace by stormsonjupiter (T)

Alternate Universe: What if Crowley hadn't used his holy water by the time he though Aziraphale was dead? Would he use it on himself? This is my version of Az/Crow's Romeo and Juliet suicide scene. TW: suicide.

Oh speak again, bright angel by HolyCatsAndRabbits (G)

Happy Good Omens Celebration, everyone! This fic ties in with the GOC prompt “Contrast.” Written to go with this amazing art by Selene-yoshi-chan, which was a DTIYS by PinkPiggy93. Selene gave me a run-down of their thoughts about this piece, and I wrote the fic from those.

A Pair of Star-Cross’d Lovers by Libbyfay (T)

They attend the opening performance of Romeo and Juliet, and it hits a little too close to home. -- It all starts out so innocently, “palm to palm” in the first act. Then, it’s nothing but a torturous, slow descent toward heartbreak and oblivion. Aziraphale could see the writing on the wall, and he refused the fate which was playing out before them. Unfortunately, Crowley wasn’t going to understand, and simply could not be trusted to keep himself in check. The soft-hearted demon sniffling at his side was nothing but a liability. It was all going to be up to him.

Paradise Regained by ThetaSigma (T)

Wouldn’t it be nice, Aziraphale thought, if they could be on the same side finally? But of course demons couldn’t unfall. It was silly to wish for that. And rather dangerous, since thinking that a demon might unfall and become Heavenly again was tantamount to saying that God had erred and that demons could be redeemed. And things like that led to falls. Aziraphale froze. He could Fall. Crowley couldn’t rejoin Heaven, but Aziraphale could Fall from Heaven and become a demon, and then they would be on the same side. **** or, A showing of Romeo and Juliet leads Aziraphale to consider Falling.

Hell is Empty, All the Demons (and One Angel) are in Verona by Lost_Stories (M)

"Gloomily, Crowley swirled the red liquid in the cup in front of him and looked up to the other side of the tavern. There, just out of earshot, sat Aziraphale and Will. He scoffed. Not only was he having a bad day, Aziraphale and Will seemed to be having an entirely too good one. Aziraphale’s cheeks were a (beautiful) shade of red as he leaned close to Will, hand resting on his arm. He was clearly drunk, and Crowley would love to grab that tankard of wine from Will’s hands and throw it out the window. If looks could kill, William Shakespeare would never write another play..." One night when William Shakespeare gets drunk in a tavern while he's stuck on his writing, Crowley and Aziraphale tell him the story of Verona, with which they were much more involved than anyone would be able to tell from the story today...

- Mod D

[chubbylittlebumblebee]

Please read the whole post before commenting. I’ve never made a public post like this before so bear with me if it seams long-winded.

Recently @hg-aneh has been bombarded with extremely upsetting comments since they confirmed that they do ship Crowley and Muriel.

First off, it is never okay to dog pile on someone who is not already in the wide scale public eye. Calling someone a pedophile because of fictional ships is never okay. Lashing out at someone is not going to help them see your point of view, it automatically puts them on the defense and no one makes any progress either way. If you see someone has commented the same thing you were going to say, don’t. It is a terrible feeling to see 100 notifications and know they will all be people tearing you apart.

Quelin Sepulveda is an adult. Muriel is canonically thousands of years old. They might find solace in Crowley, who I know would deeply care for them. Crowley is a character who fosters curiosity and wonder in other characters. Muriel has that inherently, and it is logical to assume that as Crowley is alone they would naturally come together in some way.

From Muriel’s perspective, Crowley is one of the first people to like them for simply being themselves. He is going to be their first constant in 6000 years that isn’t demeaning or critical. He will introduce them to earth and all the beautiful things within. (Just like he did with Aziraphale.) For the first time they will experience affection compassion; they will be important.

Crowley would have someone who needs and loves him. Muriel is also someone who isn’t critical and would see Crowley for who he really is. Muriel mirrors pre-fall Crowley in so many ways, it would be imposible for him not to care for them. They won’t shut him down like Aziraphale would, it would probably be easier to tell what they want.

Crowley also knows more about earth, heaven, and hell than any other being has except God and The Metatron. He understands the inherent traumas that heaven and hell inflict on everyone. He knows what’s coming. He knows what is at stake.

Throughout their life Muriel has only spoken to people once every 300 years. Yes they take records so they probably know some things, but only from Heaven’s point of view and without context. Most of those they do meet are unkind as they see Muriel as the lowest in their ranks. You can see how nervous they are when Saraqael brings them to speak to Uriel and Micheal about Gabriel’s matchbox. Muriel knows so little about earth that they have to be taught how to drink tea. They do not have any idea how to interact with anyone because they never got the chance to. During the season they are in an entirely new place with new people and they have no experience with any of it, so much so that they are easily manipulated twice. Once about Aziraphale and Crowley’s secret meeting, and again when Crowley gets them to “arrest” him. They don’t have enough experience to know that they even could be manipulated or abused. They think that everyone has their best interest at heart.

The knowledge gap between Crowley and Muriel’s is reminiscent of that of movies like Tron Legacy, Fifty First Dates, Fifth Element, the original Planet of the Apes, and Splash. If you have made it this far Pop Culture Detective does a great job at explaining it.

Muriel is definitely autism coded and autistic people are frequently infantilized, but most of us know basic things about the world. We haven’t been stuck in an empty room for thousands of years. It is common for those with immense trauma to find a romantic connection for the first person who was truly kind to them. That’s why doctors can’t date their patients, teachers can’t date their students, and therapist can’t date their clients. Muriel doesn’t even know what romance is or what it entails for them or Crowley. (Aziraphale has also been super autism coded this season so we don’t just have Muriel)

But that’s only the case for the current cannon. It’s okay to retcon things in your own works, to go through different scenarios with characters that would allow them to interact differently. It’s okay to wonder about different characters and see them as a couple. It’s always important to take a step back to see the whole picture before commenting on something like this. I love the Good Omens fandom, it has allowed me to be myself and meet new people. I don’t want this fandom to become a toxic place. We already have to deal with homophobia and transphobia bearing down on us from the outside. We just want to make and experience art together.

Thank you so much for reading through all of this, it is really important that we support each other right now and I hope that everybody, especially @hg-aneh is doing well (I can’t imagine how exhausting this whole ordeal has been). If this conversation does continue please do so from a place of respect. If you wish to bring anything else to my attention, please do so. I am always looking to learn more and I am always open to different ideas and ways of thinking.

Keep being beautiful beautiful humans, and take care of each other.

[ria-writes-stories]

Dark red roses

Ship: Dizzy Genre: Romance, Glass Description: Why? Why did she do it? How could she…? How could…she… @exotic-dinostuff -----------------------

(No one's pov)

Heaven, hell, whatever silly things human made up the drones were irrelevant to, and yet, they opted to be human. They dressed like humans once did, they customized their basic equipment to their personality, they learned to grow as a society, a sloppy one, but they still managed to function. They had children, families, hobbies, ranks, titles, jobs, and what not, but… some were more away than others. Some were more awake than others, not necessarily because they lived longer, but because they were different and not in a good way, at least not for them…

"Ew, it didn't kill her. Oh my God!" Lizzy said as she covered her mouth and ran off with Doll, as the Russian drone simply giggled at the comment. Such things are horrible, terribly awful, to witness, to be a part of, but Lizzy wasn't bothered by it, just like many other drones she only cared for her skin and she was oblivious to others. Real bonds were never made between drones, and those aware, like Doll, had to go through the pain of it. Doll adored Lizzy. Her smile, her attitude, her confidence, she loved her beyond anything else, but did the other girl love her the same…? She had not a clue… sure, she smiled, sure she talked to her, sure they act close, but was she loved? Home and School were two different worlds. Perhaps her house was more quiet, but in that silence there was sincere warmth and comfort despite the coldness of emptiness. When we compare the loud words to the silence, Doll would choose the silence, it was how she could best show her love and care, it wasn't her fault, and there was nothing wrong with this behaviour, but she'd feel her soul hurt, ever so slightly, to see Lizzy talk so much, about this and that, but never look at her in silence. Was Lizzy ever thinking of her like she was? Was Lizzy in love with her? Did Lizzy even ever consider them…?

Hard is the life of a lonely Russian girl. Popular or not, it doesn't exclude the possibility of feeling alone. Lizzy was her everything besides her parents, but that was only natural right? To love something out of yourself, to love something that is not bound by birth to be loved by you, right? Yeah, it must be right, but then, why does it not feel like she loves her as well? Maybe because they never established what they were, maybe they were both scared and shy in their own manner, maybe they just needed a nudge, a push, a step…and Doll was more than ready to take that step for her, but how…? How would she even do it? Doll decided to observe Rebecca for this task. Rebecca was in a relationship with Darren, they seemed happy, or well, the best you could make out of whatever they had…she tried to figure out how she should treat her situation with patterns in their relations but it didn't work, for Doll quickly came to the realisation that whatever was between Rebecca and Darren was nothing compared to what she had for Lizzy. It was nothing compared to how she felt about her, nothing compared to how the oil in her system moved in her body just to see Lizzy one more day.

She looked for ways to make her happy, and the one that was the most successful so far was to let her talk while she listened, it worked, sure but it was the same old. So, she turned to the two people she could trust the most when it came to things like this. Her parents, and soon, she had multiple tools to use.

She would open the doors for Lizzy to walk in first, she would spent hours making roses out of whatever materials she could find, each time she painted the petals differently. She began with light roses, white, then yellow, after that pale orange, and then a soft pink, just like her perfect eyes. Little by little the color of the rose bouquets were darker and darker, but Doll couldn't always give Lizzy iron roses, crafted by her hands, so, she got creative. She'd get her accessories with roses, clothes with rose patterns, each time a darker shade than the one before.

Lizzy loved receiving these gifts, she loves having new outfits or new items to complete her outfits, so all of these gifts were more than welcomed, but was Lizzy understanding fully what they meant?

Her parents taught her how to court a lady without batting an eye, how to treat her, how to talk to her, how to act around her regardless of how she perceives these acts. So, what's with the roses? Well, they're meant to represent her ever growing love, from white roses, all the way to dark red roses, but there were so many shades to go through that each time Doll fantasised of the perfect moment to give her the deep red roses, the moment would pass and Lizzy still wouldn't receive those red roses, because there were simply that many shades, so, she decided that she will give her that bouquet right before prom, it would be perfect, the ideal moment, but, things never go according to plan, do they?

Doll's parents were gone, and without them, Lizzy in truth became her entire world. The pain, the anger, it blinded her, and yet she was still half conscious about her plan to win her over, so despite Uzi being in her bathroom and soon to be disposed of, Doll took in a deep breath and gave Lizzy the ever so cherished bouquet. "Oh- uh- thanks." Lizzy said with a small smile as she took the flowers, but very soon she placed them away, turning around, her back facing Doll as she had a look of remorse on her face.

Lizzy felt beyond guilty. Doll was gone. Her Doll was gone, dead and buried. Lizzy noticed the sign early on, but she was a coward, she was always one, and now it costed her the being she loved the most in this damned colony. She didn't understand her feelings, she didn't understand what she had until she lost it. The day Doll's parents died Lizzy could only blame Uzi for it, if it wasn't for that stupid short girl Doll's parents would be alive, and Doll would be hers, her Doll would be with her, but it wasn't meant to be, not anymore. Lizzy wanted to be angry, she wanted to be angry at someone, but she couldn't she was just sad. The moment she saw the emptiness in Doll's gaze she did all that she could, all that she would usually do that got her to smile and laugh but she failed miserably, and that is when she realised she lost her. That is when she went home and cried her heart out into her pillow, aching over a love that never got a chance to bloom.

Doll changed so much, she became colder, was she always this cold? No… No she wasn't. She was amazing, she was perfect, she was elegant, intelligent, determined, hard working, she was everything that one could possibly look up to, but too much is too much. When Doll's parents died, she died as well, because her Doll was gone. She was there, sure, she looked the same, she walked around the same, she was still as quiet as per usual, but she didn't laugh, not anymore, and when she'd smile or laugh, it was sick. Lizzy saw it. She saw Doll smile so widely while taking the life of someone innocent. She blamed herself for this. Was Doll taking after her on this? Lizzy bullied Uzi for as long as she can remember, not an everyday activity, but she surely had a hand in making her an outcast and commenting poorly on her whenever the opportunity awakened, was this why Doll was cruel as well? Was this why Doll was so awful, doing anything needed to get what she wants? Was this her doing? Of course it was. Doll was one of the most wonderful things in her life, and she ruined her, she damaged her for so long without realizing, and when a strong blow came her way she collapsed, and now, all that Lizzy was left was with a memory of who she once loved. She didn't feel it was fair. She didn't like what she had to do for Doll. She didn't like the idea that someone more will die for the sake of Doll's plan, even if it was the person directly responsible for the two parents that have passed away. She just couldn't do this to anyone anymore, she couldn't do this to herself anymore.

The prom came, and as expected, her Doll was gone, remorse, guilt, pain. Her heart bled out, it screamed in misery and pain, it begged and pleaded, but nothing was changing in Doll's gaze, all the while her own pink neon eyes were going through the five stages of grief. "On second thoughts, you're way hotter than Doll! Save yourself idiot!" And soon enough Lizzy had to witness once more the atrocities this monster was capable of. Her Doll was long dead, instead a wicked and sick beast took her empty body as a vessel for it's own purposes. She got tosses to the side like a used glove and nothing more, Doll would never do this, and yet here we are.

It wasn't until way later once all of it was done with that Doll laid on the cold snowy ground near an abandoned building, that all the pain hit her at once. She did everything right didn't she? She went through all of the steps for the plan to work, yet it didn't. She failed, and right at the last step, maybe if she would have leapt instead something would have been different…but she failed. Her world, her everything, all that she ever loved, it was all gone, taking a piece of her soul more. She saw the look in Lizzy's eyes. She heard her words. In the moment she was beyond enraged, but now? Now she realised that all she ever had was gone. She was in shambles, and she couldn't cry even ever so slightly about it. When did all go down? What mistakes has she done? What was she paying for? Sure, she has killed those prom queens, but otherwise she would have died, it's not like she had a choice, she couldn't just let herself pass on, she had to avenge her parents, she had to stay alive, for Lizzy, she had to be there. Now, she was alive and well, but she had no one.

She kept a distance, but she watched, she watched and waited, prying on the perfect moment, but no matter how much she looked, Lizzy didn't seem affected by her missing at all, she didn't even bat an eye. She was nowhere to be found. The Lizzy she adored was no longer there. No. No she was right there, she was standing there, next to the killer of her parents, unfazed even in the slightest that she was next to something that could snap her neck without the slightest feelings of remorse. That was Lizzy, that was the Lizzy she knew, so then what happened? Why didn't she feel anything? There was no anger, there was no sadness, no frustration, just disapointed. Has she fallen out of love? Is that what happened? No, it couldn't be, it shouldn't be. She loved her for so long, what reasons would she have to no longer care for her? But what reasons would Lizzy have to love her? They've changed, the both of them, and they grew apart. It felt as if something promised to you has been snatched away right in front of your eyes, and you can't even do as much as to fight for it, but why…? She fought her battles alone so far? What has changed? Lizzy wouldn't hold her at the end of the day anymore. She wouldn't look at her. She wouldn't feel anything for her. She became worse than the monsters that doomed her life, and now the only person she had left no longer loved her.

Lizzy was still grieving. She missed what they had, but she didn't miss the beast. She didn't miss the vial beast that wouldn't hesitate to dispose of her if she didn't do as told. She didn't miss the monster that was wearing as a mask, the face of the one she once loved. However it was still so extremely difficult to accept that the person you cared for so dearly was long, but not only were they gone, they were completely erased from the face of the planet, and she didn't realise that until recently. Doll was long dead, and she missed the exact moment that she died, the time to cry was gone, and now it was time to grief and move on, so Lizzy was left unable to shed even a tear.

A bouquet of dark red roses was buried in the snow, alongside two hearts who were no longer allowed to love each other anymore, however, only one of them has lost everything.

The End

[shallowseeker]

@ahundredbillionheavens - This might be a reductive answer to your question, but I think souls are empathy.

Empathy is what powers a story (and the Hollywood grind cycle), so it works pretty eloquently.

For someone to “become soulless” is simply for something to happen that turns that empathy off.

✅Could be a head wound (that one young man in Dream a Little Dream of Me, I think it was [?] or akin to how Amara injured Donatello)

✅ It could be a trauma that causes a character to withdraw / completely sunder / shut off their emotions (a la soulless Sam). Sam is vulnerable to this…he often shuts off his emotions/distances his own emotions by intellectualizing others.

✅ It could be torture and pain (demons).

✅ Or the coldness of time and distance (angels).

In this way, it’s very possible for demons, angels…anyone to have “a soul.” After all, “grace” is like a soul in that it can be wielded in violence or healing. Angels are just sold the line that “grace doesn’t count as a soul. It’s stoic, powerful, not nurturing or healing.”

And demons are sold the line, “it’s too late for you / you don’t matter anymore.”

(But we see family and friends heal each other again and again, even demons and angels, through great loyalty and sometimes terrible sacrifices.)

///

Humanity is often shorthand for empathy.

✅ When you “sell your soul” to an entity, it can power itself vicariously through the “soul,”eating/draining all the hopes and dreams, spending it like dirty vice money (Hell) or powering a whole grand enterprise (Heaven).

I think this works in a very real meta sense, and it’s also how we see Chuck use Sam in 15x09 The Trap. It is not until Sam is drained of hope that Chuck is rejuvenated.

Why then, are humans more valuable than demons/angels? I think a clue is with Amara’s hunger in season 11. She laments that humans are mostly (cosmic) empty space. (Which is true of us and the universe.) But! She eats angels and demons too!

I think… The metaphor is that, in the world of story, human “empathy/experience” is compressed inside the narrative character. (Indeed: characters are avatars for multiple writers and audiences, “compressed” into a single, often morphing character/idea.)

Ergo, the human souls of SPN are so compressed that they’re simply more filling/less empty space. They’re like bite-sized, high-calorie gold nuggets you can eat. (Demons are maybe low-calorie, thorny, hard nuts to crack. Angels are too vast to tap, disconnected from their emotions like a perpetual state of alexithymia. Or like an ore field with no tools to get at the usable stuff.)

When angels get “compressed” into human vessels, their grace probably feels more. When they are compressed, they’re perhaps literally more in touch with their own emotions. A nice nod to how our own bodies help us identify/“feel” our emotions. (Angels are deadened by too much inhibition, a loss of free will and denial of the emotions through shifting those emotions onto a grander cause.)

And demons are “cured” by transfusion, which essentially cuts through the prickly shell of not-caring. (Demons are numb via the disinhibitory loss of free will and the shame of non consensual choosing disguised as purely the fault of the exploited. This generates righteous anger that can be wielded, especially if it becomes blind.)

///

Anyhoo! Empathy powers stories! Souls are empathy.

Grace, souls, corrupted souls are the same star stuff, but perhaps souls are neatly packaged/compressed so that we’re (generally) “in touch with” our energy and emotions.

Soullessness is any barrier to empathy.

Or being “out of touch,” too maybe…

I might be delirious but i am bored in my hospital room.

///

In a narrative, empathy may be much of what matters in a very real sense. Nihilism and apathy are supreme enemies of the story. They cause it to spiral into a neurotic mess of, “why bother?”

(They all died and nothing changed / it was all a dream / all writers lie and this story is a big lie / shaggy dog story etc. is boring and cowardly. “Playing it safe” and “Keeping things up to interpretation” can dissolve meaning and backbone. When ppl say “it didn’t stick the landing,” this is what they mean.)

///

Aside/// Plenty of characters have emotions, like how Lucifer has been shown to have turbulent ones. But he lacks empathy for his peers.

His bitterness causes his emotions to be terminally self-focused, and purposefully blase. Even the deeper emotions he feels for Jack are akin to a dingy in a sea… and Lucifer would drown that dingy to stay afloat.

“Soon I’ll be me again,” he says after feeding off Anael, seeming genuinely rattled by the act of feeling his own emotions and seeing his own true motivations (that is, contrary to his rebellious streak, he valued fitting in…pleasing his dad). I think that’s a nice Sam parallel.

Lucifer was chronically used and victim-blamed by Chuck, (as late as s11), and he’s unable to connect to others in a real empathic sense because it’s unsafe. He only feels alive in the heat of battle/fighting a bigger enemy than himself (Amara, AU Michael). It’s safer for him because the chaos of the battlefield offers security and built-in allies…so long as that war keeps waging.

[three-heart-trio]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Quackity and Schlatt have a bowling night

top tier bowling (1077 words) read on ao3

This is such a bad idea. Such a fucking bad idea.

Quackity is pacing around Schlatt's grave, mind running a million miles per hour, filled with all the horrible, terrible things that could happen if he goes through with this shit.

What-fucking-ever. It's not like this is the first bad idea he's executed, and it sure as hell won't be the last.

Which brings him to his next problem: How does one summon a ghost?

Maybe he should've asked somebody, but he would rather take his final life than seek assistance. Call him dramatic, but relying on anyone hasn't gotten him anywhere.

So Quackity, not thinking anything through, takes a deep breath, and shouts, "Schlatt- or Glatt, whatever the hell you go by now, Quackity from Las Nevadas wants to have a fucking talk. I wanna fucking talk."

Quackity doesn't know what he was expecting. He probably thought Schlatt was going to descend down from the heavens, if that's even a thing; or maybe up from hell (where he deserves to fucking rot). Maybe Schlatt was going to just fade in in front of him. 

He sure as hell wasn't expecting the guy to just wake up behind the grave, eyes blinking awake, a hand wrapped tightly around an empty glass bottle.

Quackity doesn't even need to think to know what was in that bottle.

Schlatt stretches, bones cracking from neglect of god knows how many weeks, before registering Quackity's presence. 

"Ay! Quackity, what'dya wake me up for? I was having a damn good nap, asshole!" He yawns, extending his limbs, "Better be a damn good reason."

Quackity plasters on a smile, clearly pleased to be annoying him, "Wanna go bowling?"

Schlatt blinks. "Excuse me?'

"You. Me. Las Nevadas. Just recently opened up a bowling alley," Quackity says, like that explains anything, "Wanna go bowling?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? This is what you fucking woke me up for-"

Quackity pinches his nose and sighs, putting all his cards on the table, "There'll be drinks."

Schlatt looks unfazed, before his mouth spreads into a wide, toothy grin, "Well, why didn't you say so sooner? Lead the way, my friend!" He throws his free hand around Quackity's shoulders, which gets shrugged off immediately.

===

Las Nevadas is a lot bigger than Schlatt remembers.

There's a lot more lights as well, he notes as he looks around the bustling city. The night is young, so the billboards and signs aren't in full effect yet. He wonders what it'll be like in the dark.

He really needs to wake up more.

Quackity leads them into a stubby building around the corner, appropriately named the "Las Nevadas Bowling Alley", down a few flights of stairs. It opens up to a massive space, lined with bowling lanes, lavish sofas, and those flashy rip-off stores that provide the bowling shoes and overpriced food.

Schlatt is guided to sit on a sofa, as Quackity goes to, presumably, get the alcohol. With a place like this, Schlatt can't imagine the quality of liquor he'll be receiving.

With two bottles in one hand, laced inbetween his fingers, and a stack of cups in the other, Quackity returns and places all the items on the glass cocktail table in the center of the seats, before going to configure the game on the screen.

"Usual settings?" Without turning from the screen, Quackity asks, before snickering, "You don't need the bumpers, do you? 

Schlatt scoffs, "No! I don't need the fucking handrails." 

Quackity rolls his eyes and laugh, clearly unconvinced, but hey, it'll be entertaining either way.

He clicks a few more buttons that Schlatt just, does not understandm and will not question, and the pins are lined up, the bowling balls rolling and thunking onto the rack neatly, all the reds and blacks and golds of Las Nevadas.

The host waves a hand for Schlatt, signalling for him to go first, "Guests first."

"Too pussy to go first, huh?" Schlatt sneers as he slots his fingers into the bowling ball, "Yeah, watch the master at work."

Schlatt rolls his ball straight into the gutter, much to the pleasure of Quackity and his shit-eating smile.

He glares at the man on the couch, before going a second time. It hits one pin.

Quackity lets out a guffaw. "The 'master at work', huh? Fucking hell, that was sad!" He says, as he pours out the drinks, nearly spilling it from laughing.

Schlatt sits on the sofa angrily, grabbing a cup, "Yeah? The only sad thing is you being on your final fucking life, asshole," He takes a sip of the alcohol, eyes sparkling as he tastes the liquid, "Oh shit, this is good! You are loaded ," tongue rolling at the 'L'.

"First of all, not taking comments about my life from a goddamn ghost; Secondly, yeah this shit is good! Gotta live up to the name, y'know," Quackity stands up and grabs a bowling ball, "Now, watch this ."

Quackity throws the ball into the air, landing with a bang on the lane before rolling into the gutter.

Clearly, neither of them know how bowling works.

Quackity laughs nervously, "Second time- Second time's the charm! That was a warmup-" He rolls the ball softly, going about a meter before slowly rolling into the gutter.

"You have weak ass arms, my fucking god!" Schlatt gets up to survey the area where the bowling ball landed the first time, "This is a strong floor, by the way, how did it even survive that throw?"

That comment is met with a glare. The screen above flashes "Turn 2" in bright letters.

Schlatt take a ball, holding up to eye level (That's what the professionals do, right?) before sliding the ball towards the pins. It hits 4 of them.

"Yeah! Look at that, bitch!" Schlatt exclaims, as Quackity rolls his eyes and groans in annoyance.

"It's fucking- beginner's luck, asshat." Quackity goes, as Schlatt scores a 1 on his second turn. 

Schlatt cackles, "Beat that ! Bet your weak-ass arms can't." 

Quackity laughs, full-chest and holding nothing back. "I am going to bash your head in with this god damn bowling ball." He rolls, scoring a total of 6. Quackity's lips stretches into wide beam of pride as Schlatt splutters in bewilderment, mouth agape.

"Fucking did beat you."

Quackity's chest feels a lot lighter as he laughs at both of their terrible behavior, the night passing like wind. Maybe it was worth going along with stupid ideas.