#helluva boss s2e4: western energy

[disneyanddisneyships]

I'm getting real sick and tired of yall antis.

Here's a lil tip.

If you don't like a show?

Don't watch it

[whippedcloudsofcream]

Helluva Boss S2E4: Western Energy

[ren1327]

Wow...Blitz...wow.

Let's go yall. Another scene analysis.

So it's clear Stolas and Blitz have been having sex for some time. He knows those feathers but...they're not in the kinda rough condition he's use to putting Stolas through.

We can see from his trip in Truth Tellers that he put Stolas on a pedestal. So to see those familiar feathers in that condition?

Absolute denial. Stolas can't be in that condition. He's fancy and rich. No, he's seeing things from the beat down from Loona.

But then Millie comes in.

"Stolas got hurt bad"

She even places a hand on his arm to comfort him. Because while Blitz denies his feelings, she knows better. She knows love and knows Blitz does care about Stolas.

He shocked and angry, confused too.

"Stolas got what?!"

And when he looks up, he realizes those tattered dirty feathers are in fact Stolas's. The person on that gurney who he though so high and untouchable, who he himself could never dirty...wasn't who he thought he was, who he made him out to be.

He makes a choked noise of confusion. He still cant accept it. He can phantom it.

"How?" Comes out as a croak. It seems too impossible to Blitz.

His breath is now soft, a whisper, as if he says it too loud it would be like unleashing a secret to the universe, despite it taking place in front of him. Everyone knows but he still cant accept it.

"He can get..."

'Yes, even he can...with all his riches and powers, Stolas can be injured.'

And then the final word is crisp and clear and tumbles from his mouth with the last of his air as reality hits him, pure shock and fear on his face.

"hurt?"

And it hits him.

If Stolas can get hurt, Stolas can die. And he could lose him. He could lose someone he won't admit he loves.

He had heard the call, he knew how dangerous Striker was. And now...

His vision will come true.

"You're going to die alone."

And now Blitz is faced with this new truth that he can lose Stolas without them ever making thier feelings clear.

Should he cut it off so he isn't hurt?

Should he cling and enjoy every second of sadly, the healthiest partnership he had? Is he guilty he didn't go? Is he ashamed or scared of seeing Stolas again?

But most importantly, what are these confusing feelings and can he figure them out?

[enduringenthusiast]

I have few complaints about the Helluva Boss episode and was disappointed to see how many other had, especially at such fundamental structures of the show. The big complaint I want to discuss is the idea that the B Plot was pointless or boring, because I think the B Plot was not only an understandable screen time padder but also effectively set up to make the A Plot stronger. A lot of times when shows follow an A/B Plot structure one is more important than the other and the push and pull to balance the weight of each episode. Aka your supposed to be a lil bored at one of them but it makes you wait to build tension. This is really common and when one A Plot is extra important or heavy, normally the B Plot will take a bigger backseat and be something more lighthearted. Not only did Blitz in the hospital provide some levity from striker, but it was actually important we had a good reason WHY blitz wasn't there. We as an audience needed to believe this was an important situation to him and while we can laugh about slow Healthcare jokes or an assassin being scared of a shot, from his perspective he was been waiting years for this, he is watching his daughter be scared and in pain and fight him against something she needs to be healthy and to him, these stakes are real. If there was going to be anything keeping blitz from rescuing stolas, prioritizing his daughter is about the best possible reason i could ask for. And then we get the reaction as stolas gets to the hospital, the helpless, i wasnt there, i never thought it could go this badly reaction. And the lesson for him rather than "I wasn't good enough to save him" if he went and stolas was always going to be hurt, was instead "I didn't give him my time when he needed it and now hes hurt" and isn't that the whole nature of the conflict, blitz not seriously considering stolas feelings or situations and not giving time and emotional depth to them? We even see that immedietly supported in the texts, he gives very short responses, no time or emotion for much more. I thought the a/B Plot structure was perfect in that sense.

[caspira-writes-fanfiction]

Moonlit Confessions

(ao3 link in title)

Blitzø visits Stolas in the hospital, but only when he thinks Stolas doesn't know.

The room was warm despite the evident starlight coming through the draped windows that usually signaled that Stolas should be chilly. He’d been in and out of sleep for the past several days, waking only long enough to eat if prompted or make a few observations about his surroundings. He had been able to relatively consistently remember that daylight=warm. Moonlight=cold, but if asked what day it was or even where he was, Stolas would likely be unable to answer without help. He wasn’t even sure he could answer if asked, he hadn’t spoken aloud in ages.

The magic he had used during the full moon had exhausted him of all his energy. He didn’t fight the sleep when it came, he knew his role right now was to rest: it was the only way he would heal. He also hadn’t tried to fight himself into wakefulness too often. Usually he awoke only to reposition himself or fix the arrangement of his blankets. This time as he awoke, however, Stolas found that he had a much more difficult time moving. There was something in his arms.

With just one eye squinting itself open, only able to see a blur of red with black and white stripes, Stolas reasoned that he was clutching to Impy, his unfortunately named beloved childhood stuffed doll. He still had the doll tucked away with his other possessions. He came out of storage on rare occasions when Stolas needed extra comfort, such as periods of illness. Curious, he thought. Nobody had come to bring him anything, he hadn’t remembered Impy being among his possessions while in hospital. It was with a movement of his good hand up to the imp’s head that he realized he was touching flesh and not fabric. Two more of the prince’s eyes blink open. With increased cognizance, Stolas realized that he could feel the rise and fall of the other’s chest as he breathed. When his eyes adjusted, he recognized the brand mark from the imp circus, tucked carefully under the Goetia’s chin. Blitzy was here.

It almost felt like a dream and Stolas was happy to convince himself of that, but the smell of booze that became apparent as Stolas became more awake settled him into reality. A disorienting reality, one he didn’t entirely know how to make sense of, but one that Stolas couldn’t help but take comfort from in this moment. Blitzy was here, all of the other details were negligible.

Stolas was warm, he realized, because Blitz had pulled the blanket up over them when he’d snuck into bed. He was having trouble moving because Blitz’s tail was wrapped around the two of them twice over. His face was buried in Stolas’s chest feathers and his arms were wrapped under Stolas’s, clutching to his back. While Stolas woke thinking he was holding onto something, he now realized that he was the object that was being held onto. Stolas tried to move, only slightly, but was stopped when he heard Blitz shift protectively and grumble in his sleep.

“No” It wasn’t an angry or upset no. It was quiet, a bit playful, concerned. “Shh, no jus’….no. Don’ move.”

Blitz was still very much asleep. Stolas found the concern that Blitz showed in his unconscious state endearing. He could feel his heart swell, there was no doubt he was blushing. Blitzy cared for him, even if it was just a quiet shushing in his sleep. How could Stolas do anything but oblige?

“Alright.” Stolas’s voice was no more than a whisper. His good hand rested atop Blitz’s head, scratching gently between his horns. He pressed his lips to the other’s forehead and kept them there in a prolonged, tender kiss. Stolas found it quite easy to drift back into sleep with Blitz tangled up in his arms.

Stolas awoke again hours later when the sun was starting to rise. Blitz was trying to sneak out of bed, and doing so rather successfully until he fell out of it. Stolas was still rather disoriented, he decided to stay laying still. He could hear Bliz standing up, he could hear him grumble and brush himself off, then silence for several moments.

“You’re still fucking sleeping” Blitzø’s voice was quiet, and just slightly fuzzy around the edges. Stolas wondered how much Blitz drank before breaking in here to still be inebriated in the morning. He wondered how much time had actually passed.

Blitz stumbled, he sighed. “You should’ve woken up to that. Or this. You should be awake right now going ~Oh Blitzy~ with your big stupid fucking eyes. You’re not supposed to….You shouldn’t...You’re not…” His voice almost cracked, but he stopped and swallowed before allowing that to happen. It was a few moments before he spoke again. “I didn’t know you could get hurt.”

Blitzø didn’t outright apologize, but Stolas understood what he was trying to say. The air hung heavy in the room, the silence clinging to both of them uncomfortably. Blitz’s breath hitched and Stolas could feel all of the air from his lungs leave as his chest crushed in on itself. Blitzy was crying. This was exactly the moment that Stolas wanted to reach out and pull Blitzø back into his arms and hold him, but he knew this was exactly the sort of moment Blitz would never let anyone else see. He knew Blitz would run the moment Stolas showed him affection. Stolas stayed as still as he could, he remembered his breathing, he remained “sleeping” while Blitz regained his composure.

“You look like shit, Birdie.” Blitz sniffed, Stolas imagined he was wiping away tears before they fell. Blitzy never let anyone see him show such vulnerability. Stolas wanted to believe that these emotions were fueled by more than whatever Blitz had taken before coming here. Stolas felt the blanket over him move. Careful hands pulled the blanket back up around him and tucked him in. “You can’t fucking die, okay? That’s an order.” Stolas could feel something hover over his face. He couldn’t tell if it was Blitzø’s hand or his lips. He never learned, nothing ever made contact.

Blitz’s boots click towards the exit. “If you do I’ll….I’ll kill you again.” Three more clicks. “Fuck!” His voice is a whisper, the boots clicked on down the hall. Stolas didn’t hear any more from Blitz.

Stolas didn’t sleep very well the rest of the day. His chest ached in a way he didn’t know how to categorize. He stayed tearful, he couldn’t decide if his tears were happy or sad. Both, he supposed. More of one than the other at times. Stolas had never been more conflicted in his life. How had he gotten here? He knew the answer, it was a reality of his own making, but that didn’t make it any less confusing.

He may not know how things would play out between him and Blitzø, but knew one thing: he was going to stay alive. He had to, Blitz had asked him to.

[the-irreverend]

I'm in love with this dumb scene and I don't know why.

[fictionalfish]

moxxie was so real for just killing those guys then pulling out the "i don't cry, i sing" phone case

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

WESTERN ENERGY HAS ME FUCKING BAWLING OH MY GOD THEY CANNOT LEAVE US ON A CLIFFHANGER LIKE THIS IM GONNA CRY A RIVER AND THEN DROWN IN IT

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Sixteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

I'm so sorry! I've been so sick, but do not fret this fic is still alive!

Events of this fic take place right after Western Energy S2E4 of Helluva Boss. Full Moon events have not yet happened.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Sixteen - Let's Kill God

Content Warning: Minors DNI!!!!!! Mentions of murder-suicide

Alastor smiles in his sleep. 

It’s not his Radio Demon smile. It’s not his half-cocked know-it-all grin. It’s a soft upturn of the lips, a bittersweet smile that’s more sweet than bitter. One that can only be worn properly by the innocence of youth and not by an Overlord of Hell. You’ve only seen that look on his face once before: in Louisiana. 

Over a round of King Cakes, Alastor told you of his mother and her joy. He made her seem perfect: the exact embodiment of what a mother should be. Your heart twisted in your chest for him. To have been loved, cared for, and cherished like that and then to have lost her in such a violent way…

Still, to have a mother ~period~ and one who raised such a respectable gentleman (despite the murders and cannibalism) is a treasure. In this moment, seeing the peace on Alastor’s sleeping face, you understand why he became the Bayou Strangler and then later the Radio Demon. To go after men of such caliber, of such terrible deeds over and over again. To prevent further violence and murder, those men might have committed.  

It was like he was saving his mother over and over again with each of their deaths. 

Alastor then wasn’t the Alastor you knew now. He was a completely different person before his father shot his mother in a murder-suicide. Just an innocent young man looking to make his own way in this world, all the while just trying to make his mother smile. He was powerless then and he’d never let himself be powerless ever again. 

That’s where his thirst first took root: a legend born of violence. Not much different from yourself. 

Alastor attempted to turn over in his sleep, but when his body couldn’t subconsciously turn from his back to his side, it woke him. The demon blinked out of synch, his left eye blinking and then his right, as if blinking the blanket of sleep away. It was cute, the way he dreamily met your gaze and smiled even wider. You couldn’t help but match his grin. 

“It seems I am trapped,” his voice was groggy as he spoke. 

“Oh, no. Whatever shall you do?” You joked. 

You woke not long ago, minutes before the demon stirred himself. Eventually, the silence of the room woke you. There was no music on his radio, no static - a barrier of white noise to keep out the silence that haunted your dreams. 

When you had woken you didn’t move. At some point in the night your wings had appeared and cocooned the two of you in a black blanket of feathers. It’s a good thing your feathers were soft - unlike some of your brothers whose wings poked and itched like Hell whenever you rubbed up against them. 

Alastor scooted closer to you, his eyelids drooping. The demon once told you he barely ever slept - his own personal curse. Yet, last night, the two of you passed out the second your heads hit the pillow. 

It had been a long, exhausting day, after all…

The thought that Alastor finally found some peace was a relief to you and most likely explained the radio silence. His body was finally able to relax, which meant he felt safe here, cocooned in your swaddle of protection. 

You snuggled up into the demon, not wanting to leave the warmth of your embrace, which encased the two of you from head to knees - well, your calves and Alastor’s knees. 

Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead, “How are you this morning, mon couer?” 

You sighed in the fluff of his chest at the sound of Alastor’s raw and unfiltered voice, “Sore.” 

It was true. Your body had taken a beating - most notably your lower abdomen.

Alastor chuckled, the vibrations running through his chest and into your own. God, you’d kill if only to hear that sound again, a moment more. 

The demon ran a hand through your hair, the other trapped beneath the pillow supporting your head. Alastor shivered when you ran your foot across his calves and over his hooves. 

Hooves. Damn. Alastor was the only demon classy enough to not only make them look posh but also sexy at the same time. If only Hell knew. Maybe he would have won Hell’s Hottest Bachelor, after all. 

As the demon massaged your scalp, your wings tightened as if sensing the end of your perfect moment slowly slipping away. The two of you have been hiding up here since the fight. You hadn’t called anyone or texted anyone to let them know that you were alive - not that you could text, but Alastor did have a hidden landline. Rosie was probably the only one to think that the two of you didn’t kill each other off and that’s only because she was playing matchmaker and was still holding out. Everyone else? They are going to be pissed.

“What’s wrong?” Alastor asked, cupping your chin and tilting your face into his. The red of Alastor’s irises burned into your cheeks. 

If you ever found whatever force designed Humann Sinners’ demon forms, you would thank it a million times over for this man. 

Apparently, you had sighed a bit too loud at the thought of Angel throttling you when you got back to the Hotel.

“I just… I don’t want this to end,” you swallowed dryly. “I’ve had so few perfect moments in my life that I’ve learned to appreciate one when I am in it, but I'm desperate for them to never end.” 

Honestly, you had no idea what life was going to look like now, what it was going to look like when the two of you went back to the Hotel -  if there was a Hotel to go back to. What if Charlie didn’t want you there anymore? All your presence would do is invite competition, just as Sir Pentious came seeking Alastor that first fateful day you met. Not to mention the sheer emotional and mental damage you put Charlie through by lying to her about who you really are. 

Charlie had every reason to hate you and every reason to kick you out. What then? Would the rest of the Hotel gang still want to be friends with someone like you? It’s bad enough they know you're an Angel, but an Archangel at that… Mikaela Morningstar, the famous Golden Girl and General of all of God’s armies, and now a Hotel guest of Princess Morningstar. That’s a sentence you never thought you’d say. 

So no, you didn’t want to leave your little cocoon of protection just yet, but you knew you needed to. You had to face reality eventually…

“This does not have to end,” Alastor breathed into your hair, the demon woefully intoxicated on your scent.

You scrunch your nose in confusion. 

The demon ran his thumb over your cheek, “Join me for dinner tonight and we can pick up right where we left off?” 

A flock of butterflies erupted in your chest, “Alastor Hartfelt, are you asking me on a date?” 

As if in response, the radio on the side table flickered to life. Alastor smiled his half-cocked grin as Nat King Cole’s “Darling je vous aime beaucoup” thrummed to life on the radio. 

Oh, my God. A date. A date with the Radio Demon? A date with the Radio Demon! A date with Alastor! You’d compare this sensation to how you felt when Vox asked you out - repeatedly, you might add - but didn’t want to think of the overgrown iPod while you were naked in bed with Alastor. 

“I…” You smiled in disbelief. “I…”

“Say yes,” Alastor’s free hand found your hip. He pulled you flush against him, running his claws down your thigh, he hooked it over his waist. Your leg sat perfectly in the dip of where his hip crested - as if it was designed just for you. 

Actually, all of Alastor fit you like a glove: his hands a perfect cup full for your breasts; the way his curves matched yours as you lay enveloped within each other on your sides; he was the perfect height for you to lean into him and rest your head on the fluff of his chest. 

“Yes,” you said, capturing his lips with yours, but pulled back with a gasp as Alastor flipped you atop him. 

Straddling Alastor’s waist, your wings instinctively stretched out, unfolding to their full width. Groaning, you rolled your shoulders, working out the stiffness that had cultivated overnight. How long were you unconsciously cuddling Alastor like that? 

“Absolutely breathtaking,” the demon lay mesmerized by your feathers. Capturing a feather between his fingers, the demon traced the length of its spine, relishing in the softness of the black vane. 

Rarely have your wings been touched by hands not your own. Pain. Your wings have only known pain. In battle, they’ve been stabbed by steel, sliced by arrows, singed by magic… Bare hands have only ripped and shredded your plume. Never have they been touched by strong yet gentle hands. It was almost a shock to the system to feel his fingers caress your feathers.   

And, apparently, wings are very sensitive…  

You saw the question in his eyes before he even asked it. “I didn’t portal to Hell the day Rosie found me,” you shuttered when he collected another feather between his fingers, this one lower down and longer than the previous. “I slipped between the planes, the way a Soul would after it died. I didn’t notice that my wings had turned black or my hair grey until after Carmilla strung me up from the ceiling of Rosie’s back room, and the evidence was lying at my feet.” 

Alastor’s expression suddenly changed, his eyebrows knit together, his smile flattened to a thin line. “Did it hurt?”

You blinked. “Did what hurt?” 

“When you fell from Heaven?” A half-cocked smile slowly spread across his face. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Before you had a chance to stop him, Alastor flipped you again, this time placing himself on top. With wings splayed out around you - the tips just barely brushing the edge of Alastor’s gigantic mattress - the demon’s body encased your own. The fluff of his chest pressed into your bare breasts as he leaned in for a kiss. His tongue strokes yours for the briefest of moments before retreating. 

“How I do so enjoy the taste of you, mon couer,” the demon purred, placing one hand beside your head to support himself. The other found the crest of your wings. Tracing the bend in your black cape with his finger, the demon maintained eye contact, watching as your lips parted, the gasp escaping your teeth. 

His eyes sparked. “And that look, that sound - that reassures me that I have ensnared you as much as you have me.” 

“I think you also like torturing me,” you breathed, your heart kicking up as Alastor aligned his hips with yours. You were both naked - having foregone even the bathrobes not long after your session on the balcony. 

Alastor tilted his head back and laughed before wrapping his hands around your waist and tugging you down into him. Alastor’s cock was pressed firmly between your hips and his, settling on your lower belly. You debated folding your wings away, but the thought of fucking Alastor while his fingers stroked your feathers…

“Mon couer, I love torturing you.”

Before you had a chance to question his choice of words, Alastor sheathed himself inside you. You cry out at the sudden sensation, but already, he is withdrawing and thrusting back in. Wrapping your arms around his neck… 

There was a pull behind your navel. You stopped abruptly, your entire body freezing. Alastor also froze, sensing the sudden change. 

Orange and mint. Your vision was flooded with the hues of purple. Fuck. “Octavia,” you breathed. 

Alastor slowly pulled out, moving so you could jump to your feet. “The armoire on the left.”

Folding your wings in and magicking them away, you jumped to your feet. The wooden wardrobe was stocked with clothes you had never seen before—all obviously here for you. Move now, question later. Grabbing for a pair of pants, you searched the room for the black underwear and bra Alastor took off you yesterday two days ago? 

“Top drawer,” Alastor motioned to the dresser by the bathroom door. The demon sat on the bed, his elbows on his knees, the sheets covering his more sensitive parts - the parts your heart really wanted to see. 

You pulled open the first drawer, questioningly, before slamming it shut. “That is not underwear,” you couldn’t help but snort. 

Alastor raised an eyebrow. 

“Was that Rosie’s idea or yours?” You pulled on the slacks as Alastor ditched the bedsheets for a closer look. You stared then, taking your fill of where exactly that red happy trail led before he pulled open the drawer. 

The demon looked as shocked as you did, but there was an underlying hint of devilry that gleamed in his eye. Okay, so it was Rosie’s idea, but Alastor was more than pleased by it. You huffed and pulled out the least scandalous bra in the drawer—red, of course—and spun before pulling it on. You couldn’t look Alastor in the eye for fear you might never leave this bedroom again - not that you were complaining. 

The demon grabbed a grey sweater with a turtle neck - the same color as your hair - and a black clip. He held it behind you as you threaded your arms through the sleeves. Alastor took the buttons from you while you flipped your hair into a knot, the metal securing it in place. You did a double-take. Was Alastor taking care of you? 

SNAP! A portal appeared. The color of the sky told you it was the Pride Ring. What was Octavia doing in the Sinner Circle? 

The demon wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against him. Fuck, he was still hard. 

A wave of cold breezed past your ankles. “You’re not sending me alone.” A statement, not a question.

Alastor pressed a kiss to your forehead as a cold breeze swam past your ankles again: Rolf. You should have guessed - the demon didn’t leave you alone when you were his enemy, why would he start now when you were his… His what exactly? You didn’t dare ask, it was too soon, too early to broach that topic. But one thing did pop into your head as you stepped through the crack in reality: what were you going to tell Rosie?

 The Radio Demon smirked as he handed you a pair of shoes, “Till tonight, mon couer.”

POP! The portal closed, leaving you with a pair of brand-new Mary Janes in a dirty alleyway. You allowed yourself one final breath to think of the demon who so often took it away before bolting for the street. 

It was time to move. 

“Stolas got what? How…? He can get hurt?” Blitz’s voice carried over the crowd of reporters swarming the main entrance to St. An’s Hospital. 

What the fuck is going…

“Thestral!” Octavia appears behind you before you got a chance to speak, tugging you towards the I.M.P. Crew who looked absolutely defeated. 

Millie and Moxie are covered in blood. Loona’s in a cone. Blitz just looks absolutely dumbstruck. What is happening? 

“Where is he?” Octavia demands of the group. The poor owlette looks scared out of her mind. Which is saying a lot because she rarely shows emotion on her face. The girl could cycle through five different emotions and if you couldn’t hear the inflection in her voice you would never know what she was thinking. 

“They just took ‘em inside,” Millie bows her head. 

“How…” Blitz’s voice cracks. The imp continues to stare into the crowd, his mind still not truly processing the events unfolding before him. Meanwhile Loona is passed out in the back seat of the van. 

Jesus, what kind of day did they have? More importantly, why are you being summoned only now? Or had you been summoned earlier but were too busy to notice? 

Guilt sours in your stomach. 

Octavia takes one look at the crowd, and immediately you know what she’s thinking. 

“Rolf,” I whisper, knowing the shadow can hear me. “Get us up there.” 

Taking hold of Octavia’s arm, Rolf shadows you into a sterile white hallway. A team of plague doctors work vehemently behind a glass wall, doing whatever it is healers do to injured Goetia Princes. 

A sob rocks through Octavia’s chest as she collapses against the window. You do your best to catch her, your mind flitting through a million different scenarios as to how exactly this could have happened. 

Angels can die. Goetian Princes can get hurt. 

What next…? 

____________________________________________

It had been hours before the plague doctors allowed you and Octavia to enter the room. It was hours while you stood there and did nothing but watch. You could have healed him right then and there with your blood. You could have done something to ease his suffering instantly…

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not with the media breathing down your neck outside and an entire hospital monitoring his health. Hell knew you were an Angel, but they didn’t know what you could do. That was a secret you weren’t going to share but you did let yourself think about it if only for a moment. 

You stared down at your hands, your blackened fingers looking more elegant and refined than lethal. They didn’t look like weapons—not like Alastor’s claws. Your skin was soft, absent of callouses and scars a battle-borne soldier should have. In fact, you never scarred, save for the bite mark that refused to fade from your neck. It’s almost as if your body heard your wish and kept that one just for you. 

But your hands… If you didn’t know any better, you’d say they were hands of healing, not hurting. Was that what you were intended for before Father dug his twisted sense of morals into your brain? If not, then why gift you with the power of healing? Lucifer couldn’t do that. None of your brothers could. Their blood was golden, but it wasn’t magical. 

Why was yours? 

You swallowed that thought, the emotions burning your throat as you made to stand. You had to get back to the Hotel eventually, and Octavia was passed out in the chair at her dad’s side, a blanket thrown over her sleeping form. 

“She won’t forgive you when she finds out, you know?” Stolas’ voice shakes you from your thoughts. How long had he been awake? 

“Stolas,” you find your seat once more. “I’m sorry I…”

“You did not know,” the Prince answers softly, afraid of waking his sleeping owlette. “Neither did Octavia.”

“What happened?” You whisper back.

“Take Octavia to her mother, will you?” He changes the subject. If he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t blame him. You’ve seen enough shell-shocked soldiers to know when to leave it be. At least he was awake and talking.

“I will,” you breathe. Stolas still thought you were trustworthy enough to take care of his daughter even though…? “I gave myself away in Louisiana, didn’t I?” The keys. He knew a Human Sinner couldn’t cross between Rings. Yesterday’s news merely confirmed it. 

Stolas met your gaze then, his usual soft eyes now full of… despair. “You have protected my daughter like you would a sister, and for that, I am grateful, but after today…” The Prince huffed. “Take her to her mother and take the card with you.” 

You blinked. “Stolas, I would never hurt Octavia…”

“Take. It. With. You.” The Prince commanded, steel coating his words. “And the keys…” He added as an afterthought. 

You didn’t dare say another word. The message was clear as day. Fuck, you couldn’t argue with him. Your mere presence invited trouble now that Hell knew who and what you were. Regardless of how you run into Octavia in the future, you’d be putting her at risk just by being around her. 

And Stolas was a father scorned…

You nodded your head before collecting a sleeping Octavia in your arms. 

“Goodbye Stolas…” And Rolf shadowed you into darkness. 

____________________________________________

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Keenie squeaked. 

“Of course, I’m sure!” Cletus barked from his place beside her. 

“I’m so excited!” Collin sang. 

The three banished Cherubs stood peaking around the corner, searching the growing mob of media crowding the front doors. 

“She’s not just going to walk right in the front door!” Keenie argued, the yellow floof of her hair swaying with the shake of her head. “Look at how many demons are here!” 

“Well, how else is she going to get in?” Cletus argued. 

“Oh! Oh! During the Battle of Troy, she convinced the Greeks to build a giant wooden horse to hide inside…” Collin began.

Cleatus banged him on top of the head. “Would you shut up!? Mikaela Morningstar isn’t going to sneak inside the Hazbin Hotel in a horse! This isn’t one of your fan club meetings!” 

Two days ago, Cleatus received a phone call from Rachel, who had given them an ultimatum. Track down the rogue Angel and bring her home. In exchange, they earn back their place in Heaven. 

Then Cleatus got the picture. 

And Collin went ape-shit.

“Hey! The Golden Girls are not just a fan club, okay? We are a group of warriors who would volunteer our lives if General Morningstar were to ever go to war again! We have studied, we have trained…”

“We are annoying!” Keenie interrupted him. “I swear if I have to hear one more…!” 

“Stop it!” Kleatus jumped in the middle. “Look!” 

The Cherub pointed down the road to a figure melting from the shadows. A silver-haired, pale-faced woman took one look at the growing crowd blocking the entrance to the Hotel before taking a step back and disappearing once more. It was but a moment but it was long enough. 

“That’s her!” Collin’s jaw was practically on the floor, his eyes glazed over in amazement. “The last time I saw her in person was during the Welcome Home parade after the last Crusades on Earth!”

Kleatus and Keenie nodded at one another. 

It was confirmed. Their target was none other than the famous Archangel Mikaela Morningstar. And they were going to bring her home whether she liked it or not. 

____________________________________________

Niffty’s voice was the first one you heard as you shadowed into the lobby of the Hotel. “Yeah. Where are your tits?”

Vaggie sighs, “Any other questions?”

Husk grumbles, “I got one. How come every time Charlie talks to Heaven, we get in deeper and deeper shit?”

The gang hadn’t noticed you yet as you quietly tiptoed into the foyer—well, except for Alastor. The zip of static running down your spine told you he was here, and he knew you were, too. You hadn’t really talked to the crew since the big reveal. You didn’t know how they were going to take it, but walking in on a conversation such as this was not boding well for you. 

The ex-exorcist rubs her temples, “It's not her fault. Angels are just…”

Angel Dust interrupts, “Liars?”

And the other shoe drops…

“Mikaela, how lovely it is for you to finally join us!” Alastor lights up like a Christmas tree as you round the corner.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him in a newly pressed black tailored suit. Seems Rosie made him more than one, but this one put him in all black - even the suit jacket beneath. His hair was tied back from his face into a short ponytail at the back of his head, accenting his sharp teeth as he beamed at you. 

God, you loved this man in form-fitting black. It made the butterflies in your belly fly circles in anticipation. And his hair? You never wanted to wear your hair up again for fear of never feeling Alastor’s fingers combing through it ever again. Meanwhile, you never wanted Alastor to wear his down. He was too handsome, too deadly, too enticing, with his hair pulled back from his face. 

You froze as all eyes fell on you. 

Fuck. What do you do? Do you greet Alastor back and find a seat? Do you sit by him? Do you sit far away from him? Do you not even respond at all? Do you respond normally - wait, what would normal even look like!? 

You didn’t know what to do. You and Alastor hadn’t had a talk to straighten out whatever was between you. You didn’t establish boundaries or titles - if there were even titles to be given. No, this was all too soon. Maybe Alastor didn’t even want to have any titles? Maybe he wanted to keep this all a secret? Revealing what you meant to him…

Alastor stood and crossed the distance between the two of you before you could even think. Claiming your hand in his, the demon pressed a kiss to the top and smiled, “Tu es toujours aussi belle, ma cherie. You look as lovely as ever, my darling.”

You sucked in a breath, waiting for the others’ reactions.

“I’m outta ‘ere!” Angel threw his many hands in the air before stomping away. The spider demon stormed up the stairs, not daring even a glance in your direction. 

Was Angel mad at you?

“Come,” Alastor leads you to the sofa as Rolf swirls around your feet. “Take a seat.” 

The demon sat you at the end of the couch, directly adjacent to the armchair he had been inhabiting before you showed up. 

Husk gave you a quick nod as you passed, signaling that things between the two of you were good. However, the nasty look he shot Alastor after displayed his disapproval of that situation. Yet the group did not comment. Probably too afraid of what Alastor might do, had they. 

“Charlie’s trying her best,” Vaggie continued. The Ex-Exorcist didn’t know what to make of you in that moment, her eyes constantly flitting back to Alastor who was currently humming in his chair, nonchalantly listening to the conversation. The demon did love gossip.

You had a sickening feeling that Vaggie’s eventual confrontation was coming. Not at this moment, however. She had enough on her plate to deal with. 

Husk took a swig of his drink. “Yeah, well, her best is turning out real well so far.” 

You blinked, finally noting the Princess’ absence. “Where is Charlie anyway?” 

Vaggie shot you a look you couldn’t smell - the scents too muddled together. Exasperation? Annoyance? Sadness? Guilt. Definitely guilt. “She’s upstairs. Coming up with something. I’m sure. In our room. Alone.” 

Alastor’s “Hmm,” would have been barely perceptible had you not been hyper-aware of the demon’s every move. Alastor leaned in, “I’ll be back in a moment, ma cherie.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “What happened to ‘mon couer?” You teased.

The demon’s grin turned sideways. “I think that’s best saved for when we are… alone.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Can hear everything the two of you are saying,” Husk grumbled next to you. “Just so ya’ know.” 

Your face heated as Alastor melted into shadow, silently giggling as Rolf whisked him away. 

Nifty ran to the base of your shoes, “Where are your wings?” 

POP! 

The black mass of feathers unfurled behind you 

“Ooooohhhhh,” Sir Pentious clapped. “Ssssssssplendid!” 

“Owe!” You jumped. 

Nifty grabbed a fistful of feathers. The tiny demon laughed maniacally, “For my collection.” Then she took off to who knows where to do who knows what. 

Yet again, you repeat to yourself, Nifty was not a mystery you wanted to solve. 

“Show off,” you heard Vaggie mutter. 

Okay, you kinda felt bad about Vaggie’s situation, but now everyone knows. 

“Hey, aren't you like her boss or something?” Husk asks. 

And the questions begin.

“Technically no…”

You begin, but Vaggie interrupts you, “The General was in charge of God’s armies. The Exorcists are under Adam’s domain and technically a secret division in Heaven.” 

“Wait,” Husk does a double take. “You mean to tell me that Heaven doesn’t even know about the Exterminations?” 

“Nope,” Vaggie crosses her arms. 

“What kind of fucked up…” 

Maniacal laughter interrupts the conversation as Nifty sprints back into the foyer, a ball of golden fluff in her hands. “Look! Look! Look!” She sings like a small child. “Another for my collection!” 

“What isssss that?” Sir Pentious asks. 

Husks plucks it out of her little hands. The tiny demon protests, jumping for her newfound treasure as the cat demon holds it out of reach. “It looks like wool.” 

“Like from a sssssheep?” The snake demon slivers over to get a better look. 

“Nifty, where did you get that?” Vaggie prods. 

“The little flying sheep gave me…”

“Ahhh!” You collapse as a burst of power shoots through your core, the sudden intrusion of magic burning you from the inside out. The room is plunged into an aura of green as your face hits the carpet. 

“No. No!” Vaggie screams and runs for Charlie’s room. 

Husk slowly lifts you off the floor and guides you back onto the sofa. “Are you okay, kid?” 

“Yeah, I’m…” You hold your head to force the world to stop spinning, the pain fading as fast as it had appeared. Whatever the fuck that was, it felt… familiar. “What was that?” 

Husk looked at you as if you had grown a second head. “It looked like Boss’ static.” 

Alastor’s magic. That was impossible. You released Alastor from his contract. You couldn’t have access to his magic anymore. At least, you shouldn’t. Right? 

Looking down at your hands you watch the remainder of the green aura fade into your skin. Your blood, it felt energized as if a surge of electricity had charged it like a battery. It was eerily similar to the feeling you got when you had Velvette by the throat atop V Tower. 

You had wielded Alastor’s magic in that fight as if it were your own. His static jumped at your command, the power pooling into a well large enough to take down one of Crim’s balls of electricity. Fuck, even your voice became riddled with Alastor’s radio filter. 

You had chalked that up to the verbal contract the two of you had made many moons ago atop the radio tower. Now? Now it didn’t make sense…

Sir Pentious joins you on the couch. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I just…” You had an instinct to run to Alastor since whatever had just happened was because of him. That’s why Vaggie took off for Charlie’s room. Did he… Did he make a deal? Is that what that was? You started to panic. 

Did he own Charlie’s soul? Did Charlie even have a soul? 

Shit. That’s not how this was supposed to go. Charlie was supposed to be an intermediary in this plan - a tool to threaten Heaven and nothing more. She wasn’t supposed to become part of the game. 

Wait. Wait! Don’t panic. Alastor also made a deal with Lilith and Lilith wasn’t stupid. If the protection of Charlie was part of your deal then it was also a part of Alastor’s. Whatever the demon had just done, Charlie wouldn’t be harmed. 

Hopefully…

You sat back on the couch, your mind swimming with a million different questions, but deep down… Deep down, you trusted Alastor. 

Fuck. You trusted him. 

“I just need to lie down a bit…” 

You trusted him, and you were okay with it. 

And suddenly, the ever-solo Golden Girl found herself not so lonely anymore. And you didn’t mind it - the thought of your little solo act suddenly becoming a duo. 

Only if that’s what Alastor also wanted…

____________________________________________

Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

You stood in nothing but a towel before the red dress hanging in your closet. That!? Rosie had made you that!? That devil of a woman. You were going to have a serious talk about her recent lengths regarding your wardrobe. Red, you were okay with, but the lingerie and now this!? 

The dress was a red crepe with a low-hanging neckline and thigh-high leg slit. It was completely backless, which meant you were going to have to wear your hair down (which you wanted to do anyway). But, it also meant hiding your rune in public was going to be difficult. 

Which meant you were going to need a shawl or something to cover it up. You didn’t have a shawl, however, but you know who would. And you got the sense that he was royally pissed with you. 

Forgoing your bath towel for a Hotel robe, you quietly tiptoed to Angel’s door. You didn’t know why you felt the need to be quiet; not like Angel was going to attack you or anything, but instinct just took over. 

There was music playing on the other side of the door—some sort of pop music, probably something by Verosika Mayday. You and Angel hadn’t really talked since Lucifer’s visit when he convinced you to tell Alastor the truth. Sure, he watched over you during that week when you and Alastor weren’t talking, but you had pushed him away the entire time. You had snapped, argued, rolled your eyes, and dismissed any attempt he had at trying to break you from your spiral of depression and guilt. 

You had pushed and pushed, and all he did was try to help you. So when you quietly knocked on his door, it wasn’t so much to ask for a shawl or a jacket or whatever. It was to apologize. 

“Go away!” Angel yelled over the music.

“Angel, can we talk?” You rubbed the back of your neck, the bubbles of anxiety festering within. 

There was a moment of silence before the door slowly opened but a crack. The spider demon stood on the other side, closed off despite his willingness to engage in conversation. God, he looked angry. 

“What?” His words were sharp and pointed. 

Fuck, you hadn’t thought this through, you hadn’t rehearsed anything. So, you simply said, “You seem mad…”

Angel raised an eyebrow, “Ya’ tink? Did ya’ big scary Angel powers tell ya’ that?” 

Shit. 

“Angel, I…”

“Be careful what ya’ say, Hairclip. Every time ya’ open ya’ mouth, ya’ lie.” Angel snaps.

Ah, that’s why he’s mad. 

“I…” 

Fuck, you weren’t good at this feelings thing. You were awkward and couldn’t understand how to comfort others. Friendships - not alliances - were new to you. But hadn’t that been what you were doing from the start? Despite your apprehension, you had grown attached to the Hazbin crew and they you. 

They were your friends and so it was time you started acting like one. 

Your Endgame plan was growing more and more complicated by the day. 

“I’m sorry,” it came out as a whisper. “I’ve been a terrible friend. I’ve disappeared on you not once but twice now. I’ve lied. I’ve manipulated. I’ve done nothing but hurt you and use you and for that I am sorry. I’m a horrible friend and for that I do not deserve your friendship.” You hung your head low. 

Angel sucked his golden tooth, the hallway filling with awkward tension. And right before you thought it was going to explode in a wave of anger, Angel spoke. “Look,” he huffed. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I never pretended to be somethin’ I ain’t.” 

Right. That’s what killed Angel in the end. A gay Italian gangster in his time… The demon’s overdose wasn’t an accident. 

“But, if we’re gonna do this friendship thang, we gotta do it right. No more of this lyin’ and disappearin’ bullshit.” With one set of hands on his hip, the spider demon opens the door completely. 

Wait. What? 

“And you're gettin’ a phone. I want no pushback on that one, sistah. I ain’t havin’ ya’ disappear on me again without at least a heads-up.”

Holy shit. You thought he was going to cut you out of his life like Stolas had, but no, he was making room for you in it. With stipulations, of course, but you could follow his rules, no problem! Whatever he wants so long as you still get to call him a friend. 

A friend! A real friend you didn’t want to kill and who didn’t want to kill you! A friend that wasn’t being ordered by Father to hang out with you or forced to follow your orders! 

You jumped on the demon, bringing him into a bear hug that squeezed the breath from his chest. 

“Thank you,” you breathed into his fluff. 

“Alright, alright, toots. Come inside, we got a lot of catchin’ up to do….”

____________________________________________

“Why is she just standing there?” Cleatus whispered.

“She looks so pretty!” Collin drooled. 

“This is our moment. We should go confront her.” Keenie shoved Collin out of the way. 

“Wait!” Cleatus grabbed Keenie by her floof and hauled her back around the corner. 

“Hey! Stop it! My head is still sore from that rat pulling out my hair!” The sheep protested. 

“What are you going to say?” Cleatus whispered. “Hello, General Morningstar, we’re here to take you back to Heaven, so if you’ll just follow us…” 

“So pretty…” Collin continued to ogle at the Angel standing before the doorway in a red, form-fitting dress. Her hair pooled down her back and shoulders in curled waves of silver. The curved neckline accented her breasts, while the backless dress swooped just above the crest of her hips, highlighting her feminine silhouette. “She’s as beautiful as she is heavenly.” The goat swooned. 

Cleatus rolled his eyes. “We need a plan.”

“How do you know she’s not here on a mission from Heaven?”Collin stepped in. “Why do you assume she’s Fallen?” 

“She’s in Hell. Cavorting with demons!” Keenie shook him. “She’s killed human souls. We all saw the footage, Collin.” 

“But so did we…!” Collin countered. 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! 

The three Cherubs stacked their heads as they peered around the corner. A large shadowed figure opened the bedroom door and chaperoned the Angel inside. The door shut and then locked behind her. 

“Now what…?” Keenie mumbled. 

____________________________________________

You wouldn’t be going out tonight. You’d be staying in. As Rolf guided you into Alastor’s pitch-black room, a series of candles lit as if on cue, illuminating a walkway that led into the Bayou. 

“What…”

Rolf smiled as he ushered you down the aisle way of fire, out into the grass of the pocket dimension. Your heels sunk into the ground, the bottom of your red dress dragging in the dirt. The shadow paused to take your shoes, then bunched the train of your dress for you to carry as you made your way across the plain.   

It was night in the Bayou. The only light was from the candles at your feet, which led you towards the ever-growing forest and the twinkle of the stars above. As you grew ever closer to the trees, the soft sound of jazz quickly replaced the chirping of crickets. 

You smiled as the static found your skin and the aura of Alastor’s scent filled your nose. As you rounded the large trunk of a tree, you came upon a small but familiar clearing. The same clearing he had shadowed you that night he meant to confront you. Now it was surrounded by candlelight and at the center… 

“Perfect timing as always, mon couer,” Alastor spun, a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle in the other. 

The demon stood there, hand outstretched with the goblet, in an all-black button-up and trousers. With his hair pulled back, the demon’s eyes soaked you in, and his smile dropped. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight. 

You dropped the train of your dress, the fabric pooling at your feet. “Have I done something wrong?” 

Alastor fell to his knees then and there, his radio skipping off its track. The goblet of wine and the bottle set gently in the glass. Taking your hands in his, he whispered, “You could never do wrong, mon couer.” 

“Then why do you look at me like that?” Your red lips turned down in a pout. 

“Can a demon not be rendered speechless by the most beautiful sight he has ever seen? Can he not be brought to his knees by such a wondrous creature, the embodiment of power itself? Can he not adore the vessel which adorns it, wholly and completely?” 

His words render you breathless, and your mind blanks with a response. Rosie was wrong when she said Alastor showed he cared through his actions, not his words. Alastor took days to show you he cared through action, and by words, well… the demon spoke poetry. 

So when he called you “absolutely beautiful” moments before he stabbed that Angelic blade into your gut, he was not talking about the power itself. He was talking about you. 

You smiled as you cupped his cheeks and pressed your lips to his. For what could you say to match that? 

“Come,” the demon said, climbing to his feet and pressing the goblet of wine in your hand. He had a wicked grin on his face as he led you towards the blanket, which held a picnic of food. “A little birdy informed me you enjoy a nice night in with a home-cooked meal and bottle of wine.” 

You smiled as you sit, “A little cat, you mean?” 

Yes, of course Husk rendered word for word your little rant after your date with Vox. Of course Alastor memorized each one.

“I know not what you mean,” Alastor smiles as he lay next to you, his own glass of wine in his claws. The demon’s fingers found the swoop in the fabric of your dress, his claw tracing the red as it lined your back.  

Goosebumps formed on your skin. “And what of today?” You prod, referring to the small army Charlie arranged to fight Adam and his Exorcists. 

Alastor takes a sip of the glass as he lays back on the blanket, supported by his elbow. “A gift.” 

You blinked. “A gift?” 

“The spark to ignite your war,” he smiles. 

“You did that for me?” You asked. 

Alastor places his glass down next to the picnic basket filled with what you assume is Alastor’s cooking. “Not wholly.” 

You swallowed dryly. “You made a contract?” 

The demon’s eyes fall to the basket. “In exchange, the Princess owes me a favor.” 

Good, not her soul. 

“Charlie can not be harmed,” you said carefully. You were touching upon Lilith but didn’t want to mention her by name, which was a sore topic for Alastor. 

“I cannot, and neither can you,” his hand said, finding your arm and tracing it to the strap on your shoulder. 

Also, good. 

“We have three days,” Alastor continued. “I wish to spend them wisely.”

A.k.a. no more talking of plans and schemes. 

“Speaking of which, you saw Rosie today,” you take another sip. “How mad is she?” 

The demon hooked his claw under your strap, playing with it as he spoke, “On the contrary, the woman is insufferably happy.” 

You beamed. Of course, she is. 

“She’s taken it upon herself to design you a dress.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

“To meet my mother,” Alastor played with the strap, his mind elsewhere. 

Oh… Oh! 

“But she’s… Unreachable at the moment.” You breathed. When had you become so breathless? 

“In Louisiana, darling. I wish to visit her grave. If you’ll take us?” Alastor’s eyes met yours. Nothing but grief and sadness filled them despite the smile on his face. 

“Of course,” you captured his hand with yours and brought it to your cheek. “In a heartbeat.” You press a kiss to his palm. 

The demon smiled. 

“But,” you smirked, “you must promise me something?”

“Anything,” Alastor answered immediately. 

“For the next three days, you’ll train footwork with me.” 

Alastor raised an eyebrow. 

“Your footwork and swordsmanship are atrocious, and…!” 

Alastor grabbed your hand and pulled you onto him. The glass of wine spilled into the grass as the demon wrapped one hand around the back of your neck and brought you into a kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue darted out for yours. 

Alastor broke away, seemingly unphased by the action, a knowing half-cocked grin on his face, “I’m sorry, you were saying?” 

You were… Fuck, your entire mind went blank. 

“I apologize,” he chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since you arrived. I would have greeted you with a kiss, but this dress was distracting.” 

You smiled back, your cheeks turning as red as the fabric. And then the question hit you again. “Alastor, when you spoke to Rosie today, what did you tell her?” 

The demon’s eyes caught on something behind you. “It’s time.” 

It’s time? 

The demon motioned for you to lay down next to him, your back on the blanket and your eyes on the canopy of the trees. “Alastor, what are we…?” 

“Shh,” the demon shushed. “Wait.” 

The candles winked out at once, plunging the two of you into darkness. It was a rather odd change to the conversation, but you let it happen. It's not like the answer to that question wasn’t killing you inside or anything… 

CLICK! 

Alastor’s radio switched stations. Nat King Col’s “My First and My Last Love” began playing.

🎶I recall all the days of my childhood

And that bashful romance that we knew

In my teens, as I roamed through the wild wood

Then my first and my last love was you 🎶

As if on cue, a wave of green fireflies shot out of the darkness. The small bugs surrounded the two of you, as if you were swimming in your own sea of stars. 

And the answer to your question has finally been answered: “was this romance?” 

🎶When I strayed from our green fields of Clover

Still I knew that my heart would be true

Though I wandered the world like a rover

Still my first and my last love was you🎶

No, this was not romance. It was so much more. 

You turned to Alastor, only to notice that he had not been watching the wonder around you but rather you the entire time. 

🎶And your love haunted me like a song

Till it brought me back where I belong🎶

The green danced in his blown-out pupils as you nudged closer to him. Alastor’s forehead met yours as he whispered, “You asked me what I had told Rosie.” 

🎶Now the days of my youth are behind me

And the years we have left may be few

But my memories will always remind me

That my first and my last love was you🎶 

You nodded. You held your breath in anticipation of his answer. 

“I told her what she had told me long ago,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb. “That one cannot live without their heart.” The demon cupped your face. “And you are mine, mon couer. I'm your guy, and you're my gal."

You sucked in a breath, “That doesn’t just mean being with me, Alastor. It also entails what comes with.”

🎶And your love haunted me like a song Till it brought me back where I belong🎶

The Endgame. Although Alastor had shown interest, he didn’t necessarily commit. Yes, today was a show of good faith, but there was something in it for him too. You needed a commitment to you and the plan. He could not get one without the other, but the demon already knew that. 

The demon chuckled low. His other hand coming to the slit in your dress, and you gasped as his fingers met the outside of your thigh and climbed higher and higher. At the base of your ass, he grabbed your leg and threw it over his waist, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The green danced all around you as Alastor ran a hand through your silver hair, his fingers playing with your curls. “Well then…”

🎶Now the days of my youth are behind me And the years we have left may be few But my memories will always remind me That my first and my last love was you🎶

His voice was low and filled with lust as he said, “Let’s kill God.”

And before you had a chance to reply, the demon pulled you in and kissed you savagely. 

There was no more need for words after that. The food was long forgotten - for now. You’d be eating it afterward… The demon pulled you fully up onto him, his vision swimming with nothing but you in red and the green of the fireflies surrounding you, illuminating you.

And as Alastor broke the kiss to stare up at the Fallen Angel above him, he had cemented what he had been telling himself all along. He'd destroy, he'd kill, and he'd raise Heaven and Hell if it meant keeping you here by his side. Killing God was a menial task if it meant he got to keep you as the prize, but the Radio Demon had left out a few details regarding his talk with Rosie. You were his heart, that much was true, but he had much bigger plans in store for you.

The demon ran his claw across your bottom lip, admiring the red. Alastor took his time memorizing the shape of your lips, the pooling of your silver hair, and the flash of yellow in your eyes as the green from the fireflies danced around you. He memorized you as if it was his dying breath, for the demon never thought he'd known Heaven till now and had surely died but just hadn’t realized it yet.

He gladly welcomed the day God died. The thought of anyone making a mark on this skin but him... Alastor instinctively growled at the thought. His hand fell from your mouth to your neck. He pushed the hair aside to appreciate the mark. The bruises had faded thanks to your unnatural gift of healing, but the bite at the base of your neck, that one refused to fade.

Good. Let all of Hell know you were his.

Alastor watched as you unfurled your wings behind you, the black masses stretching to their full width. An Angel... He'd laugh if he wasn't so completely enraptured. Who would have ever thought he, Alastor Hartfelt had fallen completely and totally...

He couldn't say the words. He didn't want to scare you, didn't want you to think him another man in your life obsessed to the point of toxicity. You had a history with men, and Alastor didn't want to become just another face that haunted you at night. You've endured enough emotional, mental, and physical torture for one immortal lifetime.

So he didn't say what he was thinking. He'd go slow, give you space and time. He didn't want to push for fear of losing you.

After all, it takes one emotionally damaged soul to know another.

Alastor caressed your wings and watched as your mouth parted ever so slightly, your lips forming that wonderful "o" they make when he catches you off guard with a sudden sensation. By Satan, he loved the little noises and faces he could draw from you.

"Where were we?" Alastor purred. He ran both hands up your thighs, bunching the dress as he went.

Tiny blue sparks jumped from your form and into the grass. The Bayou was a wet and humid place, and it would take more than that to ignite it.

"We have no vèvè to protect us out here, mon couer," despite the demon's warning, his fingers continued to climb until they crested your hips.

Alastor shot you a knowing look, mischief glowing in his eyes.

You weren't wearing any underwear.

You smirked at the demon as you leaned forward, your hands going to his hair as you settled against his chest, your wings folded behind you, "Try not to electrocute me."

"Try not to set my Bayou ablaze," the demon purred, relishing in the feel of your fingers in his antlers.

With your eyes half-lidded, you purred, mocking his tone, "As you command, Mr. Alastor."

Alastor pulled you down to him, but he didn't immediately tear into you as you expected. No. He kissed you slowly and deeply, as if savouring the very taste of you on his tongue.

There was something very, very different about this time.

Alastor’s radio clicks on a smooth jazz, his favorite, actually: Nat King Col's "Unforgettable."

Slowly, Alastor's hands traced your silhouette, caressing your hips, the dip in your waist, the shape of your breasts. His hips did not buck, his teeth did not bite, his lips did not bruise. The demon did not give you any of the usual signs that he was hungry, insatiable as he had been for the past few days.

And then it hit you. Alastor was letting you take the lead.

You smiled against his mouth, and took the opportunity you didn't have before to roam his skin. You followed the chiseled edge of his jaw, to the spot just below his earlobe, before nipping it and eliciting an extremely satisfying gasp from Alastor.

You followed down his neck, planting featherlight kisses until you reached his chest. Alastor liked having only the top two buttons undone when he was being more casual, so when your mouth found the third, your fingers undid the buttons as your lips continued south.

When you hit his belly button, you pulled back to admire the sculpted chest before you. With his shirt completely undone, you traced his pecs with your fingers, following the lines of his muscles down his abdomen to the lean six-pack of his torso.

Alastor's face was red with lust, his eyes glassy, his heart beating at a million miles an hour beneath your hand. To think, you had the Radio Demon completely undone, and you hadn't even taken off your clothes.

And you weren't going to let this go to waste.

You pulled off his belt and then undid the button of his pants. Without hesitation, you grabbed Alastor's shaft and pulled his cock free. The demon grits his teeth as his claws dig into the meat of your hips. You stroke, eliciting a growl deep from within his chest.

Oh, no, you were going to savor this moment.

His head swells as you drag your thumb over his slit.

"Fuck," Alastor moans as a few green sparks of static sink into the grass.

You debated using your mouth, but to be honest, you didn't know what to do with it, but your hips? You knew how to use those.

Alastor’s head rolled back at the sight of you tugging your dress above your waist. With one hand firmly wrapped around his cock, you lined your clit up with his shaft and rolled your hips, timing it with the stroke of your hand.

Alastor made a noise halfway between a whimper and a moan that made you roll your hips again.

If you knew all it took to take down the infamous Radio Demon was the roll of your hips, you’d have had this man begging on his knees weeks ago. Oh, there is definitely more than one way accrue power and you had just found it.

“Beg,” you command, referring to all those times Alastor made you crave him, desperate for him to be inside you, hopeless for release.

The demon’s head shot up as if he didn’t hear you correctly, but you silenced any protest he would have made with another stroke and another grind of your clit into his shaft.

“Fuck,” he groaned again.

“Come on now, Mr. Alastor, where are your manners?” You pouted, drawing his attention to your lips. You licked them, if only to incite more annoyance with your demand.

Alastor growled, showing off his canines like an alpha male ready to pounce, but the demon wasn’t giving in just yet.

So you decided to up the anty.

Scooting back, you leaned down and ran your tongue across the head, lapping up the pre-cum leaking from the top. Alastor gasped, his hands instinctively knotting in your hair.

“Ah, uh, uh,” you tutted, pulling away. You leaned over his belly, stroking his cock as you intentionally brought it closer to your cleavage. Alastor’s eyes practically bugged out of his head at the sight.

You weren’t wearing a bra either and from this angle, Alastor had full view of your cleavage and breasts as you stroked again.

“What will it be, Mr. Alastor?” You kissed his lower belly, following a trail up to his neck before seating yourself atop his waist once more.

You stroked as you sat there, waiting for the demon to find enough sense - and enough air, was he even breathing? - to respond to your demand.

But oh, it was practically killing him to do so. Alastor had never begged for anything in his life.

“Please,” he moaned as you stroked, the demon completely disheveled beneath your. “Please, darling.”

Aww, how cute.

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his nose, “Only because you asked nicely.”

You lined him up and gasped as you sank down to the hilt.

“Fuck, Alastor!”

The demon shot up and captured your moans with his mouth, his one hand helping to guide your hips as you slowly lifted up and came back down. With his other he palmed your breast and pinched your nipple through the red fabric causing you to yelp. Alastor continued to let you take the lead, his actions but mere assistance as you bounced up and down on his cock.

Using his antlers as leverage, you opted for hard rather than fast - knowing that’s how Alastor liked it. And with every bounce of your hips, the demon grew thicker and thicker inside you.

Alastor’s groans turned into full on moans, the most vocal you had ever heard the demon. And as your walls twitched, your climax building, you felt Alastor growing closer and closer to his own.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to last much longer, darling,” Alastor breathed.

“Good,” you smiled against his mouth. “I want you to cum.”

“Fuck,” the demon moaned.

“Cum in me Alastor,” you demanded, your hips moving faster and faster.

Alastor grabbed your hips then, his claws sinking into your flesh as he slams you down onto him harm. Sheathed to the hilt, his head bruising your cervix as he spilled inside of you with a low guttural grunt.

It was enough to send you into your own orgasm, your own personal high as the demon spilled inside of you.

You breathed heavily as your body rode the tingling aftershocks. Collapsing into Alastor, your head rested on his shoulder as the two of you sat there surrounded in a sea of green stars, your wings limp behind you.

It wouldn’t become apparent to you then, but about ten feet in every direction, with the two of you at the center, was a circle of scorched earth. You hadn’t burned down the Bayou but you had lit it on fire at some point.

And yet, the two of you did no harm to each other.

“Mon couer,” Alastor cooed as he ran a hand through your hair. “My heart,” he whispered. “Mine.”

The two of you sat there for a long moment, just drinking each other in, before continuing on with a long night of drinking, eating, laughing, and genuinely just being happy for the first time in your lives. You talked of jazz and radio, of Heaven and your life on the run with Eve. You talked of everything and nothing. You talked well past the point of exhaustion, never wanting the night to end.

And you savored every moment of it, for you had gotten good at recognizing the good times when you were in them, but knew they always had to come to an end eventually…

Awww, so cute. What could go wrong? *cough* foreshadowing *cough*

Possible alternate endings???? I'm indecisive AF

-> Chapter Seventeen

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you wish to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages

@chibistar45

[vivid-bluez]

Helluva Boss' Worldbuilding is Awful

This is going to be a different post than what I normally post. It will be a bit more negative than how I normally word things but I want to get my thoughts out there since it's something I've been hyper fixating on for awhile.

Helluva Boss is a web series on YouTube currently in its 2nd season created by Vivienne Medrano, it serves as a spin-off of her other creative property Hazbin Hotel which was recently picked up by A24 and will air its first season on Prime next month. I wanted to discuss the worldbuilding of Helluva Boss, how and why I think it doesn't work, and why that hurts it's storytelling. This essay isn't meant to be only dunking on Viv or people who still love the show, I'm not writing this to be mean. I'm writing this because I do have a soft spot for these shows, Helluva Boss S1 is a comfort show to me and Hazbin was my first foyer into indie animation. I respect Medrano for what she was able to accomplish with her shows and I write this as my own form of a love letter to the show that I want so badly to improve and be the best it can be.

The Hierarchy

Both Hazbin and Helluva take place in the same universe and are set in the same location, Hell. Hell is a concept that's been around for a long time and has had several stories written about it, it has multiple different interpretations and depictions throughout the years. Medrano's version of Hell seems to be based on Dante's Inferno version of Hell, a story that depicts Hell as having multiple layers with the sins being condensed to their own rings. Medrano's version only has 7 rings as opposed to Dante's 9 rings, one ring for each of the 7 deadly sins.

Medrano's Hell is depicted as a hierarchical society with very strict rules that those within the hierarchy must obey. Those at the bottom of the hierarchy are treated like garbage by those above them, with very little one can do to transcend the position they were born into. Furthermore, dating someone underneath you in the hierarchy, especially if you're higher on it like in the Ars Goeita, is seen as disgraceful and disgusting. The hierarchy is depicted below:

This hierarchy, as confirmed by Medrano in an interview and further established in Helluva, is the official ranking of the denizens of Hell. It seems fine until you realize that the Sinners, former humans who sinned in life and got themselves into Hell, are above all of the Hellborn in status. The reason it doesn't really make sense is because Hell is meant to be a place where sinners are tortured for eternity for their sins, with the Hellborn usually being the ones doing the torturing. So why are they above the Hellborn? Why do mortal souls outrank those of actual demons? We're never given an answer for this, it's really odd.

My other problem with the hierarchy is that its established rules are often broken and bent when the writers feel like it. The most prominent example is when it comes to Higher Demons having relationships with Lower Demons. In the first season; Blitz, an Imp, someone at the bottom of the hierarchy, and Stolas, a member of the Ars Goeita and a Prince, being in a sexual relationship with each other is seen as disgusting and shocking by those around them.

When Stella is calling Stolas out for cheating on her she seems more upset that it was with an imp, with most of her insults being based around that.

"Do you want to fuck this one (referring to their imp butler) too?!" - Stella (S1E2 LooLoo Land) "Fucking IMP SUCKER!" - Stella (S2E4 Western Energy)

When Stolas and Blitz are called out in Ozzie's for their relationship, the characters don't seem to point out that he's cheating but again, who he's cheating with.

"ARE YOU SLEEPIN' WITH AN IMP?!" - Wally Wackford (S1E7 Ozzie's) "Whew! My dark lord, how the mighty do fall." - Asmodeus (S1E7 Ozzie's)

All of these moments make it clear that having a relationship with someone outside of your social class, especially those at the literal bottom of the barrel, is frowned upon heavily in Hell's society.

So why are Ozzie and Fizz, and also Bee and Tex, able to be so public about their relationships and nobody cares?

Tex, a hellhound on the same level of status as the imps arguably even lower, is dating Beezlebub, a Deadly Sin and queen of the Gluttony Ring. They don't hide their relationship at all, with Tex introducing her as his girlfriend at a public event and Bee acting very lovey-dovey to him in public. Shouldn't there be a scandal about this? The class difference is arguably more than Blitz and Stolas, with Stolas only being a demon Prince, Bee is a Queen and she's dating someone whom most of Hell considers to be little more than actual pets. No one looks at them weird or even makes a comment about it?

Fizz and Ozzie are in the same boat, a deadly sin, the King of Lust is dating an imp. They at least somewhat point this out in the universe (Newspaper articles of Ozzie being a hypocrite and characters calling their relationship the worst-kept secret in Hell) but they don't get nearly the same amount of venom and societal ridicule that Stolas and Blitz got. When Asmodeus confirms in front of an entire crowd of Hellborns at Mammon's Clown Pageant in S2E7 MAMON'S MAGNIFICENT MIDSEASON SPECIAL, the crowd is... extremely accepting of it. With all of them cheering for Fizz and Ozzie and Mammon seemingly being the odd one out when it comes to ridiculing them for their supposedly forbidden love.

So what's the deal? Are higher demons and lower demons forbidden from dating each other or not? Because of how the show is written, it seems like it's only a problem when it's Stolas and Blitz. It's one example but still a glaring inconsistency in the worldbuilding that leaves several fans confused.

Hell not feeling like Hell

So outside of the hierarchy posing its own issues the actual setting also poses its own issues. A common criticism I've seen of Helluva and Hazbin is that Hell is just "Earth but red" and I'd have to agree with that honestly. You could replace the setting of Helluva as a group of assassins running a business in a major city like Los Angeles and change Stolas to being just a shady rich corporate backer and very little about the plot would change.

I'll just rapid fire some things that Hell has that make no sense in a place that's supposed to be evil, lawless, and a place of eternal suffering:

Fire Fighters

Hospitals that even lower classes can use.

Jails and Cops?? (What the fuck)

A fucking priest, officiating a wedding with a bible which implies there's a Hell Christianity?

Weddings and marriages that seem identical to Earth ones or Christian marriages (wouldn't Hell hate marriages for how they're tied to religion and God?)

Fucking Courts.

If these were one-off gags or something mentioned only once, I could let it slide. (Like Millie and Moxxie being married or Stolas and Stella getting a divorce) but when you drag out these plot points or repeatedly show things that make your world just feel like Earth but with a new coat of paint on it, It begins to feel like your world is just Earth but with a new coat of paint on it.

The worldbuilding in Helluva Boss feels like the worldbuilding in Cars where it just leaves more questions than it answers. (Why are sidewalks a thing in a world of sentient cars? They show an American flag so does that mean that the Car Civil War happened? THE POPE IS HERE IS THERE A CAR JESUS THAT DIED ON THE CAR CROSS FOR OUR CAR SINS??)

What is Demonic Law?

In Helluva Boss, the business the characters run is stated by multiple characters to be illegal. There are demons permitted to access the human world and imps are not one of them, making their business illegal. I.M.P's use of Stolas' grimoire is illegal it is not meant to be lent out to anyone, especially not to imps, Stolas even says so himself in S1E5 Harvest Moon. Stolas later affirms that the Imps need to be careful because if they get caught it could land all of them in trouble in S1E6 Truth Seekers:

"How the fuck did you get caught!? Were you not being careful? If you get in trouble I get in trouble!" - Stolas (S1E6 Truth Seekers)

So what's the deal with Stolas in S2E6 waltzing up to a DEADLY SIN and basically admitting that Blitz's running an ILLEGAL BUSINESS AND HE'S AN ACOMPLIS TO IT?? Asmodeus just... doesn't care that this demon prince just admitted to breaking demon law? Also, Blitz can advertise his business without worry that it could bite him in the ass, no one else at I.M.P. is concerned that they're running an illegal business that could land all of them in hot water? No one questions why a bunch of imps have access to the living world even though they're not supposed to?

Another thing they set up is Human Disguises, in S1E3 where Loona calls them out for going to the human world without using human disguises, making a big deal out of it. Whenever Loona goes to the human world she wears a human disguise as well as Verosika, her squad, and Stolas in S2E2.

"A human called me a possum! I am NOT a possum!" - Moxxie (S1E3 Spring Broken)

The human disguise rule is so inconsistent, why do Loona and Stolas wear theirs in Seeing Stars when Octavia is wandering around without one and the most people do is give her weird looks. The imps run around fine without them and no one cares or can see through their bad disguises The humans in the Hellverse are too stupid to notice the literal demons so why even bring up disguises at all? Why have human disguises be apart of Demon Law if it doesn't matter?

Demons being ...Nice?

A common response to criticism of this show is usually "It's Hell.". While I've already gone over why it sure don't feel like it but what's weirder still is yes, it's hell. Why are some people so fucking nice?

Moxxie doesn't want to kill an innocent mother and seems pretty soft, Millie and Moxxie are incredibly loving and caring to each other, when Blitz is younger, he has qualms against stealing, then we've got Beezlebub and Asmodeus who, by all accounts, are just nice people.

Bee becomes concerned for Blitz when he begins binge drinking (Aka, engaging in her sin) at one of her parties and Asmodeus has an entire speech about why consent matters and how lust shouldn't be forced. I'm not advocating for Ozzie to be a rapist or for Bee to be a one dimensional bitch but, it really doesn't make sense for the literal embodiments of sins to be so nice.

On that same note, there are villians in this show that we're mostly supposed to hate because they're.. mean?

Glitz and Glam, we hate them because they're hyper-competitive and mean to Fizz, but they're demons? Shouldn't we expect them to be mean? Stella is an abusive screaming harpy and awful to Stolas and we hate her for it, but she's a demon princess? Shouldn't that behavior be normal in Hell?

Certain demons being nice is fine, and it can give them depth, but when every 'good guy' is nice and chill and only the evil or villainousxczxc characters are cartoonishly evil it starts to become apparent that it's writer's bias.

Conclusion

While this isn't all of the worldbuilding issues that exist within Medrano's Hellverse, it's the big ones that I have the most problems with. For a show that's supposed to be made as a way to further build upon the world of Hell, Helluva does a very poor job at that and at points is even detrimental to Hazbin.

What I mean is, if Charlie needs a backer to the hotel, why doesn't she ask Ozzie or Bee? They seem like they'd be down for it since they're surprisingly anti-sin. Charlie no longer feels special because she isn't the only nice demon, she isn't the odd one out anymore since a lot of Hell's leaders also seem to be pretty chill and nice.

Again, this isn't a rant or something that I made to dunk on these shows, I love both of them still and I want them to be better. For Hazbin and Helluva to live up to their potential and be the best they can be, no work is above being critiqued, it comes with the territory and I wish more of the fandom was normal about someone having negative feelings towards parts of the show's writing and to stop putting good faith and bad faith criticism in the same boot and backing that shit into the Hudson.

[loganslowdown4]

Via Theory For Helluva Boss (after Western Energy S2E4)

I’m afraid for Via now.

Stolas displayed this fatherly rage when Striker hinted at harming his daughter. The problem is I don’t know how deranged Stella and Andre are to get the fortune.

Maybe they wouldn’t go as far as putting a hit on Via, BUT they might force her to marry someone of their choice which they would benefit from.

Arranged marriages seems to be a running theme in this show, or bought companionship.

If any discomfort or harm came to Via, well, I have a feeling you wouldn’t want to see Stolas THAT angry.

[inopportune-oddity]

Hiya! Making my return to Tumblr to share a thing I'm co-writing 😁

Please give it a read and drop a kudos or a comment if you enjoy it! me and my co-writer will go feral over comments please indulge us I beg

Ehm

The link and summary, whole kit and caboodle if you will :P

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡*⋆..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Misunderstandings, past trauma, and an overabundance of unacknowledged feelings; what more could you want as the starting point for your relationship?

After the events of Western Energy both Stolas and Blitzø are desperately trying to find their new normal, or rather get back to their old normal. Both Goetia and Imp alike are struggling with the possibility of there being something more between them than just their full moon arrangement, and whatever it may entail if either one of them ever acknowledged this stifled thing growing between them

Unbeknownst to the two part time lovers, the danger was far from over yet. Will they be able to overcome the obstacles and self imposed walls that keep them apart? Or will Hell's greater evils triumph over them, and make their story just another sad, cautionary tale of why the upper class and lower class should never mix?

[takes place after S2E4 and from there, it diverges from canon/original plot]

[whippedcloudsofcream]

Striker in Helluva Boss S2E4: Western Energy

[wanking-at-your-funeral]

CHAPTER THREE IS UP AND IM SHAMELESSLY PROMOTING OUR FIC ( @inopportune-oddity )

SUMMARY

Misunderstandings, past trauma, and an overabundance of unacknowledged feelings; what more could you want as the starting point for your relationship?

After the events of Western Energy both Stolas and Blitzø are desperately trying to find their new normal, or rather get back to their old normal. Both Goetia and Imp alike are struggling with the possibility of there being something more between them than just their full moon arrangement, and whatever it may entail if either one of them ever acknowledged this stifled thing growing between them

Unbeknownst to the two part time lovers, the danger was far from over yet. Will they be able to overcome the obstacles and self imposed walls that keep them apart? Or will Hell's greater evils triumph over them, and make their story just another sad, cautionary tale of why the upper class and lower class should never mix?

[takes place after S2E4 and from there, it diverges from canon/original plot]

--

[jaxlol5]

copy pasting my review of the helluva boss music video here just because

for further context when i wrote the review on discord i had no idea that this was a COVER of an already existing song made by PARANOiD DJ back in 2021. just so i don't look stupid imma be tweaking a bit of my review that's just saying 'why would viv write THIS' because at most she just slightly changed it a bit, or that's what i'm assuming anyway.

i'm also gonna add a bit more to my review here such as the lyric changes and the overall emotional weight of the song. i'm not really gonna review it animation or song-wise, because the animation is fucking specTACULAR, and the song aspect doesn't matter much to me. i think the original 2021 version is pretty good at least.

this song [i'm guessing at least] comes after S2 E6 'OOPS', which was a half-sequel to S2 E1 'The Circus', meaning that Stolas finally has the Asmodean crystal that he plans to give to Blitzo, either to cut ties from him completely or to see if he'll keep talking to Stolas after he has a new way to get to earth that doesn't involve his grimoire.

(side note idk why viv keeps tryna push 'Stolitz' so much when Blitzo has actively said he doesn't like Stolas romantically and only sees him for the book. but she's gone on to change that multiple times so we went from Blitzo being forced to sleep with Stolas and hating it, to him actually having some kind of feelings, back to hating him, and now back to feelings, over and over. i know Blitzos whole character is that he can't accept affection properly but it's different when this 'affection' is just consensual r4pe via power imbalance and then has to be turned around so that neither Stolas or Blitzo are the bad guys when they clearly are.)

because of the song being made in around 2021, before season 2's downfall, the lyrics had to be changed to fit. which is completely fine to do, mind you, but the issue is what what lyrics in specific were changed. in the original 2021 version, Stolas mentions Octavia and how she must feel about everything happening in her life, but in the new version, it's cut out entirely. Why?? i know the main focus is supposed to be his relationship, but this entire situation is affecting his family as well, and especially Octavia. it makes no sense to completely neglect his own DAUGHTER for someone that he repeatedly fetishizes and treats as lower- but also someone that he idolizes and sees as his true love. i could go on and on about how the changes of their dynamic piss me off but that's a bit of a tangent.

speaking of which why is there 2 songs for stolas doing the same fucking thing. in S2E1 he's singing about blitzo while thinking about leaving him. now in THIS video he's.. singing about blitzo while thinking about leaving him, the only difference is that in the former song he didn't have the crystal, and now he does.

the song in general feels so forced especially with how the Stolitz arc has been progressing, which is barely. they last talked in S2E4 'WESTERN ENERGY' and the very little character it added was all shoved into a 3 second scene of Stolas scrolling thru text of them talking about the events after 'OZZIES'. and then we exclusively see Blitzos side of the aftermath, but not Stolas. he seems perfectly fine compared to Blitzo, or maybe he's not; why not fucking show that! and no the video doesn't count because it's talking about the events that take place after 'OOPS' not 'OZZIES'. pretty sure that former episode canonically takes place months before the latter.

i saw an amazing thread that breaks this video down if you compare it to pearl's song 'It's Over, Isn't It'. it just doesn't work the same way because of the insane power dynamic and the fact that Stolas wanted to keep Blitzo for so long, manipulating him for that want as well. at least he's finally going to let go NOW [i assume], but it feels long overdue, especially with how much these 2 have been forced to deal with.

[quillyfied]

Hellaverse Theories: Helluva Boss S2E4

Welcome to Quilly’s Hellaverse Theories, where I overthink the entire Hellaverse! Now, folks, I’m a gentle soul. I prefer comedies and romances to drama and angst. But. Every so often. Every now and then. I get a dark hunger for some whump (followed by comfort but lol this episode does not provide that service). And this episode? DELIVERS. HURT THE BELOVED BIRD MAN. HUMBLE HIM. WHEEEEE!

Anyway. S2E4 WESTERN ENERGY HERE WE COME.

“Where the poor pour for you” good GRIEF okay. Also I didn’t know imps came that tiny. Someone help them. And build a Zootopia-esque tiny town for them, if they don’t already have that.

I see divorce settlement negotiations are going well :P It’s so funny to see Stolas being openly petty and bitchy to Stella when Via isn’t caught in the immediate crossfire, because we see through flashbacks (so far) that he really, really didn’t talk back or question her much during their marriage (not never, just not much). This is “don’t you want to just go apeshit” at its most refined. And lol at Andrealphus trying to wrangle Stella; she’s many things but tame has never been one of them and if she wasn’t such an egregious abusive violent bastard it would be more impressive (and I have some Thoughts about her and places this personality trait of hers could go/mean if given proper development, but later in the episode).

Alright, Stolas’ notification that he has a meeting with Ozzie in three days. That puts a timeline on this thing that may become amended by Oops, because after what Stolas is about to go through, I’m not sure he’s able to keep that meeting; and Striker does say “had a royal on the ropes just last week,” and Fizzarolli schedules Stolas for a nooner, so maybe it did need to get rescheduled while Stolas recovered. Not for long, though; a week at most. I don’t know how long people are in the hospital for normally when they get the kind of treatment Stolas gets, but he spends three days to a week in recovery, then still has bandages by the time Full Moon rolls around (whenever it may be)—demonic resilience, even in the face of holy weapons. Also. Where the HECK does blessed rope come from?? (And on the subject of timing, Blitzo spends a week tracking his sister while Moxxie and Millie are working the camper job—does it take Stolas a full week to recover? The chronology is so tiresome to track sometimes.)

But anyway, back to Andrealphus and his stupid face and his transparent attempts at manipulation. He’s kinda bad at this when he doesn’t have any ammunition, but he IS related to Stella, so I wonder if they both compensate the lack of skillful manipulation with pure arrogance. And I do very much question if Stella is as stupid as Andrealphus clearly thinks and says she is, or if she just has different goals and motivations and isn’t inclined to share them. Reducing Stella to an empty-headed spoiled brat just feels wrong in a show (and, frankly, a universe) where nearly every character has SOME sort of hidden depths, even if they’re just hints.

Also: I notice that at this fancy tea place, it’s not just Goetians demons. I see other Hellborn there as well (the lady at the table Striker lands on looks like she’s a succubus shark with very lovely tail fins, good work on the genetic lottery, madam). Interestingly wide social strata. Also, just gonna go ahead and speculate about it here: it’s weird that every ring has localized demon strains, but Wrath’s imps and (I am assuming heavily here, since Bee is hound-shaped and also appears to be the beast tamer in Lucifer’s merry Hellish circus) Gluttony’s hellhounds are at the bottom of that heap. Succubi/incubi, sharks, baphomets, whatever Envy has (possessors, I’ve heard it said? Not in-show yet so idk but I’ll go with it for now), even sinners from Pride—why are they higher on the social ladder than imps and hellhounds? How did that come about?

Very interesting to me too that Striker is clearly not full-blooded imp (very sharky), but he identifies as an imp and also has some strong opinions on his own superiority to the rest of imp-kind. There is a parallel there to be drawn to the real world that I am unqualified to speak on and am going to back away slowly from, but it has been noticed. And it’s also noticed that Striker isn’t immune from the affliction of having deeper waters within, too. Dude has a backstory and I’d love to know it.

Striker is a damn good gunslinger, though, and that’s fun to watch.

Holy balls I finally found the frame with the higher-class demon (maybe lower-ranking Goetia? Given that she has pupils?) who has a purse imp. That is. Deeply uncomfortable, actually.

HA also found Striker’s wanted posters. “Preferably dead please” NICE

Such a change for how Blitzo answers the phone when Stolas calls this time, though. He might just be trying to keep calm and easy because Loona is so distressed, but I also like to think, given his reaction in a minute when he realizes how deep Stolas might actually be in it, that Blitzo might have cooled off slightly since Ozzie’s. They haven’t talked about their issues one jot, but time does tend to take the edge off certain wounds. Time, and having an adventure in the human world together involving their daughters, and maybe skipping a few full moons, it’s really unclear.

“What does he look like, your Highness?” “Hmm…sexy?” “That’s Striker, sir!” Never fails to make me laugh. Of COURSE that’s how they identify who’s got Stolas trussed up on the back of a horse XD Also, this episode is an important one not just for breaking everyone’s illusion about Stolas’ untouchable nature and power, but for breaking the last scrap of fantasy that Stolas is clinging to about the nature of his and Blitzo’s relationship. He isn’t taking this seriously yet, despite the blessed rope, and the fact that Stolas isn’t more worried makes me think he doesn’t know about the previous assassination attempt, because I think he’d be way more concerned if he remembered that this same guy tried to kill him with an angelic rifle. He might know. Because it would be just as in-character for Stolas to know but just shrug and move on because it’s not like anything happened, he’s fine, Striker didn’t get him and he hasn’t ever been seriously physically threatened before. This is another step in Stolas’ painful, painful growing up process. It hurts, but it’s shaping him into a demon who can maybe not just become better for Blitzo and for Octavia, but better for Hell in general. And by better, I mean more willing to look the social structure of it in the face and go “no, this sucks, actually.” Again, I don’t know that Helluva Boss proper is ever going to actually address and try to change these bigger social systems, because that’s a heavy and complicated topic, but providing fanon fodder to create those kinds of stories and fantasies for itself is not a worthless service either, actually.

And for folks who want to blame Blitzo for not coming himself, two things: one, Loona is and should be his priority and he isn’t wrong for that, especially given the suspicious difficulty in getting this necessary appointment (listen it COULD be Slothful negligence, but I think we all know there’s something a little more systemically classist, if not racist, about how it takes FIVE YEARS to get an appointment for a YEARLY SHOT that Loona NEEDS or she is vulnerable to a HORRIFIC DISEASE. If there are hellhound shelters, why aren’t there hellhound clinics with better supplies and this very important shot more readily available?). Two, Blitzo DOES start trying to get to Stolas. Look at the way he breaks the gear shift. Until Millie and Moxxie reassure Blitzo that they can handle this rescue mission, Blitzo is either gonna break the appointment to go handle it himself, or he’s gonna try to ram through this appointment as fast as possible to get to Stolas ASAP. He is trying. There’s so much going on. But Blitzo picks his priority, and he's absolutely right to do so. If Stolas and Blitzo ever discuss that, I doubt Stolas would ever blame him for it, even if he is still disappointed by Blitzo never showing up (necessary as it is to continue breaking these rosy glasses of his so he can more clearly see his reality).

It took me looking it up to finally realize that Striker has a different voice actor for this season. Dude does a good job; it’s close enough to Norman Reedus’ performance that I didn’t notice, but the deeper register does make him sound more dangerous. And sexy. Mustn’t forget sexy. I am fully in the camp that Stolas’ initial “Oh, shit” is because Striker giving off a sinister one-liner and crushing the phone is, in fact, hot. Not entirely negated by the fact that Stolas is finally being clued into the severity of his situation, either.

I genuinely have to wonder if cell phones in Hell are so cheaply replaced that you could probably get them from a vending machine, or if they have healing/regenerating capabilities somehow. That would be more interesting to get information on, actually, but it’s just a recurring gag, there will never be anything deeper there.

Blitzo checks in with MnM, but the fact that he both trusts them and can give them some quick instructions on where to start looking—he’s good at his job and he’s intelligent, okay, he’s SMART and I hope he KNOWS IT. His self-esteem might be in the toilet but I hope he at least knows how intelligent he is. And can we talk again about how Blitzo can spell out loud just fine? I thought maybe he just didn’t care to correct his texts (turned autocorrect off like a legend), but it’s his handwriting, too, that suffers from his horrendous spelling. Why is it that his writing spelling is bad but his spoken spelling is good? Continuity error? Funny bit? Actual medical reason?

Also. Why is titty-haver a recurring insult in this show? I can glean that it’s a flavor of sexism, but. Like. Never heard that one before. Why is it a go-to choice?? Just gonna file it along with “daddyfucker” and try to move on with my day, I guess.

Also, this scene is part of the reason why I spell it “Blitzo” and not “Blitz;” if Blitzo is constantly telling people the O is silent and Nurse Muffy here can’t find his name without that O at the end, then he clearly spells it with the O still (or he had to give his legal name when he made the appointment, but either way: the O is present even if it’s silent, and I’m still not going to hunt down that special character and train my devices to recognize it when we all know the O is silent, and this is the laziness molehill I’m dying on I guess). (I mean, besides, that slashed-O character is an actual character with an actual pronunciation, this is trying to use Cyrillic to spell out your edgy blog title with no regard for what the characters actually are or mean or sound like all over again XD)

I love that the “prick” comment is what causes Karen Fishbitch here to finally vocalize her displeasure instead of just throwing looks. That is so…White Middle Class Mom of her. To point out the most innocuous thing to get offended over. Ugh.

JOEL PEREZ DOES EXCELLENT IN THIS EPISODE OKAY. I didn’t realize he was the poncho-wearing singing imp AND the sleepy doctor but HE’S AMAZING OKAY.

Striker having a theme song that he has to beat off with a stick makes me giggle so hard. I feel like all this comedy is setting us up for something! Almost like it’s about to get really bad!

Cutting back to Blitzo, I love the little shows of optimism he still has now and then. He clearly offended this lady earlier, but he still tries to make conversation while they’re waiting. Just a decent thing to do. I do wanna talk briefly about the kid calling Blitzo a “fire-toad,” though, because that’s a new one. And given the very detailed shading on Blitzo’s frown, we know right away even before Karen says “it’s not polite to call them that to their face, honey” that what the kid just said was pretty offensive.

…and it DOES make me side-eye Ozzie calling Fizzarolli “Froggie,” just a little bit. It’s an adorable nickname. But if a slur for imps is fire-toad…it does give me some Questions. Might be a continuity error or just a terrible coincidence that I don’t think we’re gonna get any answers for (has this been brought up in a panel or anything?), and they’re different enough that I don’t think for a second Ozzie calls him that maliciously or even in a reclamation way. Fizz and Ozzie seem to have been together for long enough that if Fizz really didn’t like it, he wouldn’t tolerate it, so that’s what I’m gonna choose to trust for now.

“I am not from Wrath, bitch” THEN WHERE ARE YOU FROM. Pride is my guess, since that’s mostly where we see the circus, but watching this fish woman throw out racist comment after racist comment (and classist, too, get it all in there), it does make me wonder how many imps from other rings have to deal with the same exact thing. My guess is a lot. (And again begs the question that if imps are Wrath-native demons, how did they end up on the bottom of the totem pole? Especially when we now know Satan is a lava-bleeding brick shithouse with a hot voice??)

And gosh, look, homophobia from a bunch of biker cowboys now. This episode truly has it all!

(And, again, how hardy are imps?? Moxxie is stabbing that guy SO MANY TIMES in the background, good GRIEF—)

Nice to know that it isn’t just Blitzo who causes destruction everywhere he goes; all of IMP has that affliction :P

Stolas giving Striker so much sass is fun to watch, despite the classist undertones. “Your wife must really hate you.” “You have no idea” YEAH STOLAS GIVEN THAT THIS IS HIS SECOND MURDER ATTEMPT ON YOU SPECIFICALLY I THINK HE DOES KNOW. I would also really like to know where the giant statue with the unrealistically huge boner came from, actually. That’s a specific choice. I mean, all of his décor is, but Striker, why THAT??

The voice actor for Striker makes what I assume is a conscious decision with his voice when Striker snaps about how every ring can’t be some fancy city, when he talks about how some folks have everything they love taken away by royal demons. He’s angry, but there’s a note of…something…in his voice that I can’t find a word for. “Pleading” certainly isn’t it, “sad” maybe, “desperate” isn’t it but it’s in the neighborhood…I don’t know. It seems like he’s trying to get Stolas to understand Striker’s position, imps’ position in general. Which is odd given that he’s about to torture and kill him, and clearly doesn’t have any illusions about changing Stolas’ worldview in that time (or that it would even matter), but the slightly softer tone of voice is striking. Pun only a little bit intended. I don’t think that softness is for Stolas, but for his own loss. Which I want to know in all details now please yes. And even more than that, I want to know about the specific royal that fucked Striker over, and if they’re still out there. (Taking bets now that if it’s a royal we already know, it’s either Paimon, Andrealphus, or Vassago, simply because Vassago having a dark past element like that would be DELICIOUS.)

LET THE HURTING OF THE BIRD MAN BEGIN. I love that angelic steel has a sizzle to it when touching Stolas; really adds to the torture.

“All you royals ever do is try to talk over us!” Also specific and I don’t think to this particular situation. Striker doesn’t care that Stolas isn’t the one who fucked him over (presumably); Stolas being part of the class of demons that caused him so much hurt is enough. And this show is violent, but there’s something visceral about watching torture as opposed to Millie tearing through an entire crowd of sharks, something that hits different when watching Stolas’ blood spatter as Striker stomps on his stab wound. Stolas keeping up his fighting spirit and not begging or weeping is…complex, actually. Begging and weeping is a normal reaction, but one that audiences generally tend to read as weak (which is lame given that that’s how most of us would react tbh but we are talking about fiction I suppose), and since Stolas is meant to be a sympathetic character to us, it makes sense to skip that reaction for him. However. HOWEVER. There’s also context for why Stolas doesn’t react to physical pain in the way that Striker clearly wants him to.

The fact that he BARELY FLINCHES when he gets his FUCKING LEG SNAPPED? Hot, but also, “Blitzo handles me rougher than that in bed” I genuinely cannot tell if that’s taunting, or if he’s serious. It would not surprise me if he was serious, especially if higher-ranking demons have a healing factor (and I genuinely don’t remember if that’s fanon or canon, but the fact that Stolas and Blitzo both are surprised that Stolas can get hurt like this indicates to me that even if we don’t see a Goetia or a Sin instantly healing from a cut or anything that isn’t delivered by angelic steel, it’s a pretty solid theory to stand on). Then the stabbing into the broken leg, and “Blitzy’s knife is bigger, and hits so much deeper.” Again…making Striker angry on so many fronts and I respect the hell out of it: sexual overtones that will shortly be more explicitly shown to freak Striker out, lack of reaction to pain that Striker wants but isn’t getting, dismissing Striker entirely (and especially in favor of Blitzo, whom Striker has a little bit of a muddled past with)—this is a strong fucking reaction to torture that I fully believe only comes from prior conditioning. Now. Whether that means Stolas and Blitzo are into some very hardcore kink, Stolas is used to pain from other sources (Stella being the prime candidate), or some mixture of both…the implications of seeing a pampered prince not break under this kind of physical pressure are damn impressive for his character makeup and future arc. Physical pain is nothing to Stolas. Emotional pain, though…phew. He is not built for it. Which Striker attempts to hammer at too, starting with demeaning him, but Stolas is able to irritate him enough to buy himself some time. There’s the tear, which I believe is concession to the physical pain as well as the high emotions he’s operating under, but first round complete. Stolas is somehow holding his own despite being in a very bad place.

I also gotta question “you won’t be worth more than the tombstone you’ll be buried under” being met with “Blitzy says far dirtier things to me with much sharper objects at my throat.” Which. We don’t know if anything Stolas is saying is true (it might be), but Blitzo engaging in degradation/humiliation of that caliber and higher in bed begs some questions about Stolas’ social awareness. Questions that I’m content to let rest for now and see what the rest of season 2 brings, actually. I’ve already talked at length about how Stolas has his own internalized classism and racism that he needs to address, both for himself and for his relationship with Blitzo, so I’ll let it lie for now.

Still amazed that the same guy who voices Valentino of all bitches also voices this adorable sleepy little goat man doctor. THE RANGE. IT IS IMPRESSIVE.

Finally pausing to get a good look at Andrealphus’ Elsa Palace and…it really looks like it’s in a remote location of Pride, looking at the harsh landscape. I suppose Andrealphus just had to…Let It Go when he had this place built? :P (Let’s be real it was probably gifted to him.) Andrealphus�� existence as Stella’s brother raises SO MANY MORE questions for me, too. For a start, they’re two different birds, which I guess is okay since Paimon isn’t a bird at all and still produced Stolas (and Via is an owl rather than a swan, despite having some similar features). For another, Andrealphus has no pupils, like Stolas, and I wonder if the presence of pupils in a Goetia means something. Paimon had them, but he also has a malleable form. Stella has them, as does Octavia, but in the s2.5 trailer when we get shots of other non-bird Goetia members as well as Vassago, none of them have pupils, just solid red eyes like Stolas. In the book the Ars Goetia, Andrealphus is a marquis, ranked lower than Stolas (who is a prince); we can also assume Andrealphus is lower-ranked than Stolas because of Andrealphus listing off all of Stolas’ assets that they (he) would lose access to if Stolas were to be killed (rather than, say, stripped of and given somewhere else, since Via clearly isn’t ready to take her father’s place yet). Andrealphus having a very obvious and physical ability, though—that feels important, especially since Stella shows no such capacity.

Out of lack of ability…or lack of training? The Goetia being patriarchal is a huge possibility, though it hasn’t been outright stated yet (and it could just be coincidence based on the fact that there are way more male characters in the Hellaverse for some reason).

I love that they were just at a fancy tea place, and here Stella and Andrealphus are, drinking MORE TEA at his palace.

I’m gonna say this about Andrealphus’ treatment of Stella: while he does have absolutely flaming (icing??) homosexual energy…the things he says and the way he says them to Stella does come off as very uncomfortably close to incestuous. The more I think on it, the more I wonder if it’s Andrealphus mimicking an older family member or friend who treated Stella in a similar way to assuage her ego and keep her in line, since her temper has clearly been a problem since she was a child. “Silly minx,” “fiery vixen,” tipping her chin with a finger MULTIPLE times—absolutely YIKES behavior, especially from a clearly slimy and manipulative older brother. I suppose they could be adopted, or half-siblings, or even just with a significant age gap; we don’t know how old Andrealphus is compared to Stella. But even if his mannerisms towards her aren’t meant to imply something THAT gross, they’re still horrifically infantilizing and belittling. I don’t want to live in a world where Andrealphus is bringing a sexual element into interactions with his sister, so I will henceforth try to ignore it, but I won’t lie to you folks and say I don’t feel the discomfort or feel the vibe. (Also seems problematic to me to have a big brother character with gay-coded flamboyance also have incestuous tendencies, but the incest might be completely unintentional and just how it unfortunately came out looking. Maybe they’ll fix that in the future. Or maybe they won’t.)

Now, about Stella: she doesn’t seem afraid of Andrealphus, in fact bringing him up to Stolas as someone whose words she takes seriously. She listens to him, is guided by him, but there are some tiny hints and clues that suggest to me that Andrealphus is pretty good at corralling her, if he can’t contain her entirely. He’s fawning over her, gentle and indirect with his wording as he tries to guide Stella into a less rash course of action, until she seems to miss his point completely and then he snaps at her. Now. Does Stella actually miss his point? Or does she just not care? It seems even Andrealphus is taken aback by his own realization that Stolas’ stuff will all pass to Via. And it does not escape my notice that he calls her Via, not Octavia. Stella is unaffected by this assertion, happily living in her dream land where she doesn’t have to deal with Stolas anymore (and therefore gets to be a sexy widow and not a sexy divorcee, which might have a better social reflecting on her anyway, especially if she’s possibly going to get put back on the marriage market or even just search for a more suitable partner herself). She doesn’t care that Via will get all of his stuff. Does this mean she’s stupid and just didn’t realize it? I don’t think so. I think she’s secure in her knowledge that Via inheriting won’t budge her equilibrium. I don’t think Stella WANTS Stolas’ responsibilities and legions and powers. Andrealphus might, but Stella doesn’t. She likes to swan (lol) around being rich and pretty and throwing parties and not having an unsightly blight on her reputation like a boring husband who cheated on her with an imp and then divorced her.

Now. Andrealphus neglects to do something in this conversation that I find fascinating and may be more deeply indicative of how Stella feels about her daughter. At no point does Andrealphus admit the possibility of either manipulating/controlling Via once she gets Stolas’ position, or killing Via and inheriting that way. I don’t think this is because ANDREALPHUS gives two shits about his niece. I think it’s because STELLA might have one or two shits to give about her daughter—and Stella giving shits about something usually means screeching violence from her when threatened or insulted. I may be proved wrong in the upcoming episodes, but I think that with every horrible wretched action and word out of Stella’s mouth, it is suitably complex of her to still care in some capacity about Octavia. We DO NOT KNOW what their relationship is like, if Stella is neglectful or pushy or kind or cruel. We DO know Octavia cares about her mother, cares that Stolas doesn’t love Stella and is taking more time to fight back against her (though Via probably doesn’t see it as fighting back, just plain fighting, because I don’t think she fully understands how terrible Stella has been to him). Andrealphus not suggesting anything untoward happening to Via hints to me that he knows that would not be a productive route to take when trying to talk to Stella.

And Stella is the product of her upbringing just like Stolas: she’s been told all her life that she’s attractive and that’s her most useful quality, that she’s rich and that makes her better than everyone else, that her prettiness and richness are valuable, and hey maybe she’s stupid but at least she’s hot! Her temper is violent, and the fact that she goes to murder as a solution rather than trying to take him for everything he has in the divorce says something about her, too. If Via gets all of Stolas’ things, Stella is still going to be taken care of; she clearly expects her daughter to continue to care for her and maintain her, and if Via can’t or won’t, Andrealphus will. Wanting Stolas dead is about her pride, because how DARE he also be stuck in this boring as fuck and unhappy marriage and then try to get out of it? There is so much about Stella’s behavior that could hint at the ways she was belittled and molded into a seriously unhealthy shape by outside forces. It was her arranged marriage, too, it was her life decided for her from childhood too, it was her utility to produce an heir too. This doesn’t excuse her abuse, but guess what, abusers are also people and have complex motivations and often dark and hurtful pasts and those are important to examine too. Not because Stella’s actions aren’t her fault, but because when you have a female character in a show with a high ratio of non-female characters and she is the only living mother who gets any kind of regular screen time, you want her to have a little goddamn depth, dammit.

Exploring an abusive marriage where the wife is the abusive one is something that isn’t done enough in fiction, IMO; I don’t want apologetics for her, I want explanations. I want reasons. I want her to either be shown to be incapable of feeling conflict because of how badly she’s been screwed over and in turn has embraced her own awful behavior as a deeply maladaptive coping mechanism, or to go through some damn emotional conflict that won’t erase her mistreatment and abuse but will show that she isn’t a one-note harpy wife. Maybe she’s like this because she was made this way (and is too terrible a person to fix it which is absolutely on her but I think there’s blame to share for how she turned out this way in the first place). MAYBE I WANT STELLA TO STAB ANDREALPHUS THROUGH THE HEART WITH AN ANGELIC SPEAR WHEN HE GOES TO ATTACK STOLAS AND BLITZO LATER IN S2.5. MAYBE I WANT THAT.

ANYWAY.

“This kind of situation is extremely unique. A Goetia has never behaved like this before.” Alright I’m calling bullshit, but as I have said before, I do think the Goetia family is more than capable of covering up their scandals. Stolas being an odd duck (owl?) within his own family and thus his drama blowing up without anyone knowing it was coming because nobody bothers to check in on boring stuffy old Stolas (…still want to point out that he’s very young, especially for an immortal demon) is more likely, though.

And here we go, back to the Torturing Stolas channel, where Striker is getting tired of playing with his food and finally finds the ultimate weak point to press: Via. The fact that it makes Stolas go vengeful instead of tearful is another pillar to the STOLAS LOVES HIS DAUGHTER fact of the show. And the knife going all the way through this time makes me wonder if it’s going to have some long-term problems for him. He does have the arm bandage longer than any other bandage that we see, after all, even the broken and stabbed-up leg. I also really want to know what Stolas’ last words were trying to be. “Blitzo…will…” Blitzo will what? Come for him? Avenge him? And I love that Stolas wants his last words to be about Blitzo, not because he doesn’t love and isn’t thinking of Via, but because at this point, he’s already sworn to defend her (even if he really, really can’t), and keeping her out of the conversation is safer for her. Blitzo can handle himself. Via can’t, not against Striker. And Stolas already showed his hand by reacting so vehemently to Striker just mentioning her, so I have no doubt that if and when Striker comes back for Stolas or Blitzo in the future, Via is going to be playing some sort of role in that endeavor.

And not to drive home the point that Striker is poor AF despite being a highly successful assassin, but. Look at his flip phone. Look at the cute little charm on the flip phone. This dangerous violent man has a PHONE CHARM. What a DORK.

I also love that Stolas is so indignant at the idea of “we still need him alive to get some affairs in order.” He might just be reacting to Stella’s voice in general, now that he’s very clear that this whole thing was her doing, but. The AUDACITY of this bitch.

Who wants to bet Striker never got paid for this?

Now. The attempted eye-gouging. I’ve seen it floating around that “if you’re gonna threaten to blind a character, don’t be a coward and do it,” but. Come on. Let’s be a little practical, y’all: if they took any of Stolas’ eyes, they’d have to update the merch :P

THE FACT THAT THE IMP VAN BLASTS LA CUCARACHA. HELL YES.

Splicing the very real life-or-death battle with Striker with the still dangerous but more comedic battle of getting Loona her shot is such a good storytelling choice, actually. Cutting some of the tension while also making it that much more potent, especially as Moxxie and Millie start losing—cutting away from them right as they’re getting their asses handed to them to watch Blitzo getting HIS ass handed to him but in a less high-stakes way is maddening in the best way. Also: Striker’s face when the radio changes to something pop. Beautiful XD Damn this is a good fight scene though. Really showcases how skilled Striker is, because taking on Moxxie and Millie at the same time when they have very focused intent to kill is impressive.

…aaaaand Striker’s immediate discomfort at Moxxie’s unexpected sexual overtones wins me over again. The only sexual harassment I will allow: flustering the villain so the heroes can wreck his shit :P (Please know I am joking.) Tbh Striker has no room to talk, he is LITERALLY FUCKING DROOLING as he strangles Moxxie. This is clearly already kinda kinky for him. He just doesn’t want Moxxie to be into it (very “evil dentist from Little Shop of Horrors” of him).

I genuinely want to know how Striker keeps getting out of these situations. By all rights he should have been impaled on his own stone boner. Sigh. (And I cannot WAIT to see him come back after being burned alive; gonna be messy as HELL.)

Now here’s my question: how in the unholy heck are there so many reporters and paparazzi at the hospital already? I’m assuming Moxxie and Millie called ahead to make sure the hospital could get him taken care of ASAP as soon as they arrived, but what gossip mongers were crouched in wait for that? (Also, the doctors being plague doctor aesthetic: good stuff, very good stuff.) (IF STOLAS KEEPS CALLING THEM LITTLER ONES OR LITTLE CREATURES AFTER THIS ISNTEAD OF BY THEIR NAMES I’M RIOTING.)

And. The tail shot. And the surprise and vulnerability in Blitzo’s face and voice when he says “He can get hurt?”

BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP YOU’RE ABOUT TO FIND OUT ALL THE WAYS HE CAN GET HURT IN THE NEXT HALF OF THE SEASON.

I need a minute I am WEAK.

Nooooo twinkly pretty heartbreaking tune how DARE you make this moment where Stolas’ final hope of his fantasies playing out, even just this one time, dies even more tragic. It’s so SAD, IT’S SO SAD. IT’S SO NECESSARY BUT IT’S SO SAD. Let’s make it worse: there’s a game you can play with picking flower petals off a flower and you say “they love me, they love me not.” Whichever you say at the last petal is the universe’s answer to the question of whether or not your beloved loves you. (Please keep in mind this is horseshit as far as reflecting reality goes but it’s a pretty sort of ritual to play sometimes.) Stolas is in a hospital room surrounded by so many flowers they cover the floor. A petal falls…he loves me. Stolas gets a text from Blitzo, hoping he gets “bivver swoon.” Stolas smiles. Responds with thanks, and invites Blitzo to come see him at the hospital. Blitzo types…and never responds. A petal falls as Stolas’ smile fades. He loves me not. Stolas sets his phone down. He rolls over, and another petal falls on his phone. He loves me. Stolas nestles into his hospital bed in contemplation. A fourth petal falls…he loves me not. (Though we don’t know where that petal winds up, and it’s a “he loves me” petal that lands on his phone, so maybe????)

I’m FINE.

I’m so fine that I am going to now move on to the next episode and I don’t have to wait for my misty eyes to clear AT ALL.