Hi, I’m ShroomBloom but you can call me Shroom! I’m genderfluid, but any pronouns are fine. I’m a 18, please don’t be weird Pansexual/Panromantic, Ambiamorous, and Demisexual!
Hello! My name is Hayden, but I also go by Shroom, H, or really any other nickname you could think of.
I'm Genderfluid, but any pronouns are fine! I'm also Pansexual and Panromantic, Ambiamorous, and Demisexual.
This blog will mostly be a mixture of me posting whatever the fuck I feel like, occasional art and poetry, and general messing around (and maybe someday fan fiction).
Some of my favorite things are: Arcane, Hadestown, The Owl House, Until Dawn, Life is Strange, Wednesday, FNAF (Really any Indie horror thing; if MatPat has covered it, I've probably seen it), The Last of Us, Heathers, Stardew Valley, Star Wars, Trollhunters (everything minus the movie), Cookie Run Kingdom, and Batman.
I listen to music sometimes, and I really like Karma & the Killjoys, Amazing Devil, and The Crane Wives.
Boundaries:
I'm 18, so not underage, and I'm fine with some explicit comments and such, but don’t be weird please! (I'll let you know if I'm uncomfortable).
Please respect boundaries that I set with you, if you repeatedly don't I will block you.
DNI: homophobes, transphobes/terfs, racists, xenophobes, abelists, sexists, and just general assholes
My Moots, in no particular order: (I interact with them a normal amount I promise): @eloose @eatin-bread-n-cryin @rafareba @themuseinthewoods @urnewsteppappa @ihavenothingoops @onyx-di-angelo @plutoplaysgames @aneptunicperson @dustybookcover @doompicklez @faerieofthenight @xyna-loot @viedew @bonsai-is-a-bottle-of-oj @brokenheartedhalo @boughtmender @bisexualnerdpanic @babushka-of-chaossss @midnight-soulless-system
The Moots Vol 2 (these ones I know in real life!): @triforcedtobehere @twistedtixl @oofispritty @postmail @jonah-lyle @painted-time @sackvillesque
The dividers aren't mine, credit to @sister-lucifer! The pictures are available to find on Pinterest if you want them!
(Y/N) lay curled up on the ground. Their back dripped with blood, the lashes raw and aching with the brush of the air. Their hands dug into the wooden floor of the sanctuary of their home, white dress pooling around them from where it had gotten torn from their back. (Y/N) dared not raise their gaze. Their parents still stood over them, and, almost worse, the pictures of Christ would stare down at them. (Y/N) couldn’t stand the crucifix. It reminded them of all their failings.
“Now, stay here and think on what you did wrong,” said their father’s cold voice. “We have a meeting at the church.”
(Y/N) remained silent on the unforgiving wooden slats of the ground. No one would question the lack of their presence at church. No one questioned anything. Then again, what was there to question? (Y/N) was a disobedient child. They were being corrected by their parents. They continued to sin, and this was the penance they had to pay. Even when it hurt so much, it was all for the best.
A hand ruffled their hair, and (Y/N) shivered at the horrible sensation. “Pray until we’re home. Remember, this is all to save your soul.”
From sin. From….what? (Y/N) was confused on what their sin was. Existence seemed to be the key of it. But, then again, their instincts on…womanly acts was lacking. They felt nothing for men nor the parenthood they were supposed to yearn for. They felt unfamiliar in their own skin. The very name they had been christened with felt foreign, like it someone else’s. (Y/N) was born wrong. That was what they understood of their sin.
(Y/N) heard the door of the sanctuary close. It locked. There would be no leaving. Slowly, (Y/N) pushed themself to their arms. They touched their back shakily. Wincing, (Y/N) let their hands fall back to their sides. Their fingers were slippery with their own blood.
(Y/N) swallowed and finally looked up, eyes tired and surrounded by purple bags. They sat on their knees and stared up at the crucifix. The gleaming gold stared down at them judgmentally just like all the crucifixes in the home did. (Y/N) felt the heavy eyes of the Heavens on them and shivered. They forced their arms up to press their hands together. Redemption. That was what this was for. Salvation.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven…” (Y/N) forced the words out, asking for the forgiveness they didn’t truly deserve. They would speak for hours, through thirst and hunger and exhaustion. They couldn’t leave, after all. All they had was an attempt at salvation.
The longer they went, though, the heavier their tongue became. The world darkened at the edges of their vision. (Y/N) furrowed their brow and began again, and their arms trembled, the weight of holding them up feeling like the weight of the world. (Y/N) swayed, and they barely caught themself as they fell over. (Y/N)’s vision wavered, and they stared at the ground.
Oh.
There was blood. A lot. They didn’t remember bleeding for so long. Then again, (Y/N) felt fairly numb. Their fingers were cold. Their back still felt the dull pound of the deep gashes, wounds wrapping around their sides like spiderweb threads tying them up, a decorative lace of red wounds. (Y/N) took a breath, and it came in a wheeze. They thought they saw their reflection in the blood beneath them. They had to be imagining it, though. If anything, it was their shadow, cast down into the blood by the faint candlelight. Perhaps that shadow was them, though. (Y/N)’s soul was blackened by sin, after all.
“Heavenly Father—”
(Y/N)’s words came faintly. Their arms collapsed. (Y/N) fell onto their side, arms splashing into the bloodstains. (Y/N) cried out weakly as more blood fell from their side as the new position strained their injuries.
“Heavenly—”
(Y/N) cleared their throat, hands faintly reaching out for the altar before them. Their stomach twisted inward, and their throat burned. They blinked slowly with exhaustion. Deprivation was catching up. How long had they been there? How long had they been in the sanctuary, bleeding and thirsting and hungering and praying? Where were their parents?
(Y/N) whimpered and nearly cried out for their parents as a child would after a nightmare. Was this not a nightmare? Were they not a child? But were the parents not the ones who had condemned them to the nightmare? (Y/N) had no one to cry to for help. They had the altar and the open air.
“Please—” (Y/N) was aware of how hazy the world felt, how every word echoed from somewhere far away. “God—My angels—I ask for—forgiveness—mercy—mercy, please—” The words were a stilted plea for the agony to end.
But the words went unheard. Or (Y/N) was ignored. They were not worthy of being heeded, sinner that they were. They were meant to suffer. Hadn’t (Y/N) learned that lesson so long ago? No one gave mercy when they prayed for it. No one was listening.
(Y/N) was tired. They wanted salvation to be saved. They wanted to be spared, just for a bit. Wasn’t the suffering they’d done enough for Heaven? Hadn’t (Y/N) said their prayers a hundred times a day? Hadn’t they obeyed? Then why did no one listen and give them the barest sliver of grace.
“Please…” whispered (Y/N), eyes drifting closed. They felt like allowing something like sleep to envelop them. Maybe they wouldn’t wake up again. They didn’t know if that would be better or worse than waking up with their prayers unfinished and their parents returned. “If anyone is listening…” Their voice was stuck in their throat, and their fingers twitched dully. “Please…I’ll give anything…to be saved…” Their eyes fluttered closed, and darkness enveloped them.
A tear dripped down (Y/N)’s cheek and splashed into the blood. It seeped through the wooden boards into the earth below the house.
“My, my, what do we have here?”
(Y/N)’s eyes opened far more slowly than the urgency of their mind demanded as they heard the strange, staticky voice. The light of the basement had transformed, tinged green as the candle flickering with a sickly hue. The shadows seemed longer, darker, reaching upwards across the walls no matter the dim light. (Y/N) tried to look around, and a shadow danced across the walls, obscuring the crucifix until the void was all (Y/N) could see on the wall.
“What…?” They couldn’t finish the question, and they couldn’t move their head. (Y/N) saw from an awkward, half-horizontal view that the shadow seemed to be looking down at them.
“Oh, dear. This is new. I’ve never been called on before,” continued the shadow, and (Y/N)’s stomach lurched as they saw that the shadow had a jagged cut where a grin would be. “And I would never have expected that such a small, pathetic little thing would be the one to call me.”
“Who…?” (Y/N) tried to push themself up. “Who are you?”
The shadow grinned and moved from one wall to another. “My name is Alastor! And who are you?”
(Y/N) opened their mouth and closed it again. They weren’t sure what to say. They could repeat the name their parents had given them. But, perhaps it was the blood loss or exhaustion, but (Y/N) felt like the name they had seen once, only fleetingly, and felt so close to would be appropriate. They kept their mouth shut, though. They were speaking to a shadow, after all. The temptation was undoubtedly a test.
“Now, now, it’s rude to not introduce yourself,” tutted the shadow.
“I don’t—” (Y/N) held their dress around themself, shameful and confused and fearful. “What is this?”
“You’re the one who summoned me, my dear,” said the shadow. “It’s you who asked for something. And I answered.”
“I didn’t—” (Y/N) coughed and winced as the movements strained their side. “I don’t understand.”
The shadow—Alastor—paused and seemed to stare at them. “You didn’t mean to summon me?”
(Y/N) tried to shake their head, and the movement made them dizzy. They groaned. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” whispered (Y/N). They feared the creature that spoke to them, but they feared upsetting Alastor even more.
Shadows peeled up from the ground, and (Y/N) flinched as they reached towards them. The movements stilled.
“Now, now, dear, until we’ve made our deal, there is nothing to worry about,” said Alastor. “Besides, it’s hardly polite of me to leave you so unkempt.” He tutted. “It’s unbecoming.”
(Y/N) stared at him in confusion, and the shadows moved again. They lifted the back of (Y/N)’s dress and resecured it so (Y/N) could drop their arms. They stared up at the shadow.
“There. Now!” The grin widened. “Onto business.”
“Business?” said (Y/N), throat raw.
“You asked to be saved,” said Alastor. “And I can save you.”
“You can save me?” whispered (Y/N), hardly believing the words. And as much as they knew that this was a creature of darkness and evil, the sickly, sinful part of their heart jumped at the chance for escape.
“I can,” said Alastor. “I would just need something in return. Nothing is free after all.”
“My soul,” breathed (Y/N). “You would want my soul.”
A old-timey laugh track played, and (Y/N) flinched in surprise. “Precisely!” said Alastor, amused. “You’re sharp.”
“No,” said (Y/N), shaking their head and groaning as their stomach flipped. “I can’t. That’s—That’s sinful.”
The shadow tilted his head. “You lay bleeding underneath a crucifix, and your worry is sin?”
“This is—they’re helping me—I—”
A door closed, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened. Their parents were back. And there was some sort of hellish creature, and it was (Y/N)’s fault, and their parents would—
“Please, please leave,” said (Y/N) hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to summon you, and they can’t—”
The door to the sanctuary opened, and (Y/N) went silent and still with fear. The shadows retreated back, Alastor watching as (M/N) and (F/N) entered the sanctuary.
“Why aren’t you praying?” said (F/N) the moment he saw (Y/N) sitting with their gaze upturned instead of kneeling before the altar.
“I—I’m sorry, Father,” said (Y/N), looking down. “I just had to fix my dress—”
(F/N) grabbed them by the arms and dragged them towards the altar. (Y/N) yelped as their knees hit the ground and scraped against wood fragments. “Your soul is more important than your vanity.”
“Remember that vanity is pride, and pride is a sin,” said (M/N). “Darling, you should really know this by now.”
(Y/N) shivered. “I do—I do! I promise! I just didn’t want to bleed everywhere and make a mess—” They scrambled for an excuse, anything to be good.
“That blood is proof of your desire to be redeemed,” said (F/N). “Are you saying you don’t care about your own salvation?”
(Y/N) faltered. “I do—I just—”
“Then pray,” snapped (F/N). “Bow your head and pray, child.”
(Y/N) bowed their head, shoulders trembling as they heard the belt snap out. More lashes. They supposed they deserved it this time. They had summoned a monster, one that had emerged from shadows and returned to them. (Y/N) had invited in evil, and they had to pay for it.
“And God made Eve from the rib of Adam, and Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world,” said (Y/N). The crack of the belt hit their back, and (Y/N) bit their lip so hard it began to bleed, desperate to not make a sound. They had to continue praying or it would be worse. “And the raven was called Sin.” Their sins had caught up to them that day. That was why the world was spinning around them and their fingers shook, cold and slightly off color from lack of blood. “Eve was weak.” (Y/N) was weak.
The crack of the belt hit them, and (Y/N) fell over, air brushing over a tear in their dress as another wound opened up. They whimpered, squeezing their eyes shut.
“Pray for your soul!” commanded (M/N).
Numb, (Y/N) tried to repeat the words they knew by heart. Forgive me. I have the curse of blood. I am a sinner. I am a sinner. The words were old and burned into them, as deep and raw as the fires of Hell would burn them if they didn’t repent.
Another strike. Another. Faintly, over the ringing in their ears, (Y/N) could hear their mother and father speaking, praying for them, commanding them, scolding them.
“Pray or He will burn you!”
“Satan’s staking his claim because your soul is a hole of disease!”
(Y/N) whimpered, the words no longer coming, head spinning.
“Full of sin, full of pride!”
“Heaven hates a sinner!”
(Y/N)’s arms trembled, and their vision blurred. They were stained with blood. They wondered vaguely if the shadows were still moving or if it was their imagination. Perhaps it had all been their imagination, their sinful desire to not truly be redeemed.
“We know you are everything we could want. But you’re sick. We have to cure you because we know that you’re meant to be perfect for us, unblemished.”
“Remember, we know best. Pray and you can be saved.”
(Y/N) didn’t remember becoming sick. They remembered the prayers for redemption every evening before bed. They remembered when it slowly became this. They felt pain and exhaustion and—
“This is all as God intended.”
Another crack, another wound, another splash of blood. (Y/N) was getting cold, and all they could think was—
It’s not fair.
Their garden was so far away. The bayou, beautiful and wide and free, was so far away. They wanted to see it still. They wanted to see it one last time. They would do anything.
“Please!” shouted (Y/N). “Save me!”
“We are,” crooned (M/N).
“That is all we want,” said (F/N), his shadow looming over (Y/N).
They squeezed their eyes shut, and their hands curled into fists, a new emotion surging through them. Anger. They were angry, filled with wrath and sin and—
“I’ll give you my soul!”
The candle went out, and the room plunged into darkness. (M/N) and (F/N) froze, and (Y/N) exhaled, ware of a gentle, cold pressure wrapping around them. Shadows.
“It’s a deal.”
The candles flickered to life, green as leaves. (Y/N) watched with wide eyes as a shadow stretched upwards to the ceiling and peeled off the wall. It solidified, the form of a giant, deer-like man with a cruel grin gazing down at them.
(F/N) and (M/N) stared in horror, and (M/N) grabbed her cross, praying for safety.
“A demon,” breathed (F/N).
“And here I thought you were a complete idiot.” The redhaired demon grinned, antlers extending above his head. Stitches glowed along his red pinstripe suit, and his large eyes peered down at (F/N) as if he was no more than an insect. “It appears you’re only partly one.” Alastor laughed, and he twirled a cane with a old fashioned microphone on top.
“Get back, filthy demon!” snapped (M/N), holding up her cross.
Alastor laughed, and his sharp teeth shone in the green light. “Oh, no, don’t be so foolish.” His neck cracked as it tilted violently. “You have no power here.”
(F/N) grabbed the crucifix off the wall and glared at Alastor. “I am an agent of the Lord, and you will not terrify me—”
“An agent of the Lord? My oh my, your type haven’t gotten less amusing after a hundred years!” laughed Alastor.
(Y/N) was aware of the shadows streaming up the walls, ready to reach out. But the ones around them were gentle, cool to the touch, almost a balm on their wounds. They swallowed and looked at Alastor as he laughed at their father.
His grin widened, if at all possible. “And it will be even easier to kill you now than it was then.”
“Kill—?”
(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and their hands curled into their dress. Kill? They should hate that, right? These were their parents. Right?
“Oh, yes,” said Alastor, twirling his staff and knocking the crucifix from (F/N)’s hand. “Kill. Your child—” (Y/N) looked up in surprise at the neutrality of the word, a strange warmth in their chest “—has asked for salvation. I am here to give them salvation from you.”
(M/N) looked down at (Y/N). “You brought a demon into our home?! You filthy, dirty little sinner—”
Her hand raised, and (Y/N) flinched back. A shadow wrapped around (M/N), muffling her and restraining her.
“You will not touch them,” said Alastor, voice dark.
“We are the parents, and that sinner has brought evil into our home!” shouted (F/N). He looked down at (Y/N). “You deserve the Hell you will fall to.”
(Y/N)’s swallowed, and their hands curled into fists. Hell. Always Hell. “I already live in Hell,” they whispered, the first bit of truth they had ever spoken aloud. “Nothing could be worse than this.” Besides, they had sold their soul. (Y/N) had lost any chance at Heaven. They never had one to begin with.
“You—”
The fiery wrath in (F/N)’s gaze rose, and he slammed the crucifix down before (Y/N) could react. The blow hit their head, and (Y/N)’s head bounced off the altar, dislodging the bouquet they had placed there, the one bit of real life in the room of pain. (Y/N) flinched as the rose thorns cut their palms, and they drew back to the wall instinctually even as shadows restrained (F/N).
“Look away, my dear,” said Alastor as (Y/N) raised their gaze while the world spun. “It is time for me to save you.”
(Y/N) looked at their parents, covered in shadows and glaring with fury that was oh-so common. Their hands remained fists. “Do it.”
And Alastor did. His shadows tore into (M/N) and (F/N), and their screams rang out like tortured souls. Alastor laughed. If only he could have broadcasted the delicious screams of such terrible little hypocrites. That would have been a show to remember. But the sight of their blood splattering against the ground, limbs falling like leaves in autumn, and eyes going blank with terror and death—it was well worth it. The remains of the humans dropped to the ground with a thud.
Alastor turned to the young human in the corner, the one in the bloodstained dress, curled up and cut up. They stared at the bodies, but he saw it was not in fear. From the moment he had appeared, the fear had not been of him, never that. Alastor had seen fear of everything else. With the ridiculous teachings of their parents, he wasn’t surprised. And then, of course, there was the summoning…Alastor watched the child’s legs tremble with exhaustion—not fear or regret or grief—as they tried to stand. The child had summoned him with nothing more than a plea—a prayer. He tilted his head.
The child fell to their knees, legs unable to support them. He saw blood drip from the wound to their head. Their side remained torn open from previous lashes—lashes Alastor would have turned on their parents much earlier if they had asked him too—and the amount of damage was clear.
The child was dying.
“What…will happen to me?” they whispered, looking up at him.
Framed by blood and scarlet rose petals, they looked like a strange combination of life and death. Poetic, almost.
“You will die and fall to Hell,” said Alastor, not bothering to soften things. He doubted the child doubted that was their fate. He extended a hand. “And your soul will be mine.”
Slowly, the child nodded. “I offered it to you,” they said tiredly. “What will you do with me?”
“You gave your soul in exchange for safety.” Alastor looked down at the child, so small compared to the seven-feet his demonic form took up. “You will not be harmed.”
(Y/N) exhaled. They didn’t believe it. But they had no choice any more, did they? “Alright.” They reached out and touched his hand, finishing the deal they had already accepted. A green light flashed outwards from the room, and a long chain extended from Alastor’s hand to their throat. (Y/N) shivered against the feeling, swallowing hard.
Alastor let the chain dissipate as they flinched against it. He watched them put a hand to their wound, the blood that couldn’t stop pouring.
“Al-Alastor?” whispered (Y/N). He tilted his head at them. “Can you—Can you bring me outside? I want to see the garden and-and the bayou again. Before I—”
Alastor went still at the mention of the bayou. They were from… They were like him in too many ways. Alastor reached down and gently picked the child up. They flinched for a moment, so unused to anything akin to softness. “Let us see the sun set on the bayou one more evening, my dear.”
(Y/N)’s eyes nearly drifted close as he forced the door open and took them to the front porch. They smiled tiredly as they gazed out at the garden and the bayou under the beautiful sunshine. “…thank you…” Their voice came out faintly, and their eyes fluttered.
Alastor looked down at the strange child, the one who had summoned a demon with nothing but force of will. The call had been so strong, unlike anything he had ever heard. Even he had fought to speak to Rosie. And yet they remained so strangely placid. Their parents had torn away everything unique about them.
Alastor’s grip tightened ever so slightly. He despised them, and the moment he found the parents again, he would enjoy their torture. But for now, he had the child. They would be coming to Hell with him. He could explore their strange potential there.
“What is your name?” he asked again, keeping them awake for just a few minutes longer. They had not much more life to give.
“(Y/N),” they murmured. They smiled slightly. “My name is (Y/N).” And for once, something they said about themself felt right.
“Well, (Y/N),” said Alastor. “I will see you again soon.”
(Y/N)’s smile slipped. “Oh…right…” Their eyes fluttered shut.
Alastor didn’t like the smile leaving their face. “You will be safe.” They had his word. But they didn’t react. (Y/N) remained still. They had left this world.
Alastor knew he should let their body fall, leave it to rot. Their soul was entering Hell, = it belonged to him, and it was oh-so interesting. But he remained sitting on the porch, gazing at the bayou. Cradling the child’s body. A few moments of softness before their soul fully passed.
Hey so I thought we as userbase should organize spontaneous blackout protest against shapes inc ads here. I thought Feb 26th would be a good date (so ppl has 72 hrs notice if they want to participate), we would log off for 24hrs to show tumblr we are not okay with that (and also for shapes to get less ad revenue for a day in a process lol). Tag would be 'anti shapes inc protest'
If you like the idea/want to participate, help spread the word by reblogging this ask. Thanks <3
I would happily comply with this, hopefully enough people participate for it to make an impact!
@thedamsolangelofan @thrifted-flannel @you-think-it-makes-you-special @just-me-st1ll0 @ivysbea @jasper-the-alien @dani-seys-so @the-w0rst-to-ever-do-it ummmm romeos away anyway so ummm yeah that’s all I can think of right now
Thank you!!! Very important! These ads have been bugging me particularly for a few very disconcerting reasons, but I’m not going to prattle on
Tags below cut because important, I don’t usually tag people in things like this but I am making an exception because this has been incredibly disconcerting to me and I haven’t personally seen many folks talking on it. That doesn’t mean there haven’t been, but in my limited viewpoint, I haven’t seen many
Summary: After spending most of your formative years fighting for your life in an illegal underground fighting ring, you don’t know how to react when the Z Team appears
Warning(s): Mentions of blood and broken jaws
Words: 2,081
Note(s): I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I'm so sorry about the wait!
Not silence- never that- but a loosening. Like a knot that’s been pulled tight for so long it forgot there was another shape it could take.
You’re still breathing hard. Still coiled. Still aware of every exit, every angle, every body in the room. The Wolf hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s just… listening now. Head tilted. Ears forward. Curious in that sharp, dangerous way curiosity always is for you.
Sonar doesn’t move.
He just stays where he is, hands visible, posture open, ears angled toward you in a way that feels, unsettlingly, familiar.
Something in your chest twists.
A sound slips out of you before you can stop it. Low. Rough. Not quite a growl, not quite a whine. It scrapes against the inside of the muzzle and dies there, swallowed by leather and metal.
Your jaw aches where it presses uselessly against restraint.
Sonar nods, like that sound filled in a missing piece. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Thought so.”
Punch Up shifts his weight. You feel it more than you see it, the way the room subtly rebalances around Golem’s mass, the way attention tightens like a net that could be thrown if needed.
Golem looks at you for a long moment.
Not measuring. Not assessing threat levels or calculating force.
Just… looking.
“You’re communicating,” he rumbles finally. “Consistently. Appropriately.”
Your shoulders tense, expecting the but.
It doesn’t come.
“You haven’t attempted to bite,” he continues. “You haven’t charged. Your heart rate is elevated, but not spiking. You’re responding to social cues.”
Punch Up lets out a slow breath. “Which is, uh. A big deal.”
Your claws flex reflexively, half-formed and trembling. Power hums under your skin, tight and electric. The Wolf paces, tail lashing inside your ribs, not angry- impatient. Wanting. Wanting to answer Sonar properly. Wanting to bare teeth and say I see you too in the only language that feels honest.
You shake your head sharply, the muzzle creaking.
A sharp, frustrated sound rips out of you this time. Louder. Raw.
Sonar’s ears flick- but he doesn’t flinch.
“That’s not aggression,” he says calmly. “That’s… yeah. That’s being muzzled.”
Punch Up winces. “When you put it like that-”
Golem lifts one massive hand. The room stills instantly.
He steps closer.
Close enough that you can feel the faint vibration of him through the floor. Close enough that, once upon a time, you would have launched. Your muscles bunch automatically, instincts screaming at the proximity.
You don’t move.
Golem stops just outside your reach.
“You understand that removing it increases risk,” he says. Not a warning. A statement of fact.
You meet his eyes.
Hold them.
Slowly, deliberately, you lower your chin. It’s not submission exactly. It’s something older. Something truer. A trust gesture that feels like tearing your own ribcage open and hoping the world doesn’t stab what’s inside.
The Wolf stills.
Golem exhales, deep and heavy. “If you bite,” he says quietly, “we will re-contain you.”
Your jaw clenches. You nod once.
Sonar tilts his head. “They won’t,” he says.
Not bravado. Not confidence. Just… certainty.
Punch Up looks between you all.
“Okay,” he mutters. “Cool. Coolcoolcool. No pressure.”
Golem reaches for the muzzle. Your breath stutters despite yourself.
Every nerve lights up. Muscles scream now now now. The Wolf surges forward, teeth aching, jaw burning with the need to open. To taste air. To finally, finally speak.
The clasps disengage with a soft mechanical click.
For half a second, nothing happens, then the muzzle lifts away.
Air hits your mouth like a shock.
You gasp- not from lack of oxygen, but from too much. Scents flood in, sharp and overwhelming. Metal. Sweat. Concrete. Sonar’s strange, high, electric scent that makes your head tilt without permission. Malevola’s heat, distant but steady, like a forge banked low.
Your jaw drops.
Your teeth-
Your teeth-
A broken sound tears out of you, half-snarl, half-breathless laugh. Your tongue curls around words that haven’t been allowed to exist for days.
You swallow hard, claws flexing.
“I-” Your voice cracks.
The sound comes out wrong. Too rough. Too loud. Scraped raw from a throat that hasn’t been allowed to shape language in days. It echoes off the walls, unfamiliar in your own ears, and for one terrifying heartbeat you think you’ve lost it entirely. That the Wolf pushed too close to the surface and took your mouth with it.
The Wolf rears up with it, ecstatic and feral, teeth bared not in threat but in sheer animal joy at being able to open its mouth again.
Your lips peel back on instinct.
Fangs flash.
The room tightens.
Every muscle locks in place, coiled and screaming, power roaring at the base of your spine. Your teeth are out. Your throat is open. The Wolf is right there, pressed against your tongue, begging to surge forward and finish the sentence your body has been holding hostage.
This- this right here- is where it would’ve happened before.
A flash of memory slams into you, uninvited and brutal.
Heat. Flame blooming too close, too fast.
The sound comes back first.
Not a crunch.
A wet, awful crack, like snapping through wet wood.
His head had jerked sideways with a noise that didn’t belong in a living mouth. Fire guttered out of him mid-breath, power cutting off in a choked, strangled sound as he hit the ground clutching his face, jaw hanging wrong, wrong, blood already pooling between his fingers.
You remember standing over him, chest heaving, teeth bared, the Wolf screaming victory so loud it drowned out everything else. The memory burns through you like ice.
Your jaw snaps shut, hard. Your teeth click together loud enough to echo.
You force your lips down, tuck the fangs away with visible effort, breath shuddering as you wrestle the instinct back into its cage. The Wolf snarls, furious, confused- but it listens. It listens.
You swallow again. It hurts. Your throat feels too tight, like it doesn’t remember how to shape sound without violence behind it.
“I-” you try again, quieter this time.
Your voice comes out low. Hoarse. Barely holding together.
“I’m… I don't want to bite anyone.”
Sonar exhales first.
It’s soft, almost imperceptible, but you hear it anyway- feel it, more like. His ears relax a fraction, angling forward instead of high and sharp. His shoulders drop a centimeter.
“Okay,” he says gently. “Good. That was… good.”
The door opens, just a quiet hydraulic sigh, soft enough that you almost miss it.
You don’t miss the heat.
Your spine goes rigid before your mind catches up. The Wolf snaps to attention, hackles rising, pupils blowing wide as a familiar scent signature washes over the room: scorched air, ash, that sharp ozone bite of power that once burned too close to your skin. Fire.
Your breath stutters. Muscles bunch, claws itching under your skin, instinct screaming threat even as memory screams guilt.
Flambae steps inside.
He moves slower than you remember.
Gone is the loose, swaggering confidence, the easy grin that used to precede ignition. His jaw is wrapped thick in medical bandage, white stark against flushed skin, the lower half of his face immobilized by a brace that keeps everything aligned and still. One side of his face is bruised yellow-purple, swelling not quite gone yet. His shoulders are tight, posture careful, like he’s learned the hard way how fragile bone really is.
He doesn’t look at you at first.
Prism is with him. She walks half a step ahead, visor dimmed low, body angled just enough to put herself between you and him without making it obvious.
Sonar’s ears angle sharply, tracking heartbeats, breath, the subtle grind of Flambae’s brace when he swallows.
You don’t move.
You can’t.
Your chest tightens until it hurts, every breath suddenly too loud, too exposed. The Wolf presses forward, confused now- not hungry, not furious, just… bristling. Unsure whether to bare teeth or tuck tail. Old instinct and new restraint snarl together in your ribs.
Flambae finally lifts his eyes.
They meet yours.
There’s no fire in them.
No anger.
Just pain. Lingering, real, and something else underneath it that makes your stomach twist.
Regret.
He lifts one hand slowly, deliberately, fingers stiff as if every motion has been practiced in front of a mirror. He taps two fingers against his bandaged jaw, then makes a small, helpless motion- palms up.
He can’t speak.
Prism inhales, then looks at you.
“He knows this is hard,” she says gently. Her voice refracts emotion the way light bends through glass, softening the sharp edges without hiding them. “For both of you.”
Flambae nods once.
Your throat tightens so hard you taste copper.
Prism continues, careful, precise. “He wanted to come himself. He didn’t want this filtered or written or… decided for him.”
She glances back at him. He makes a small, frustrated sound through his nose, then gives a jerky nod.
Prism swallows.
“He says… you stopped.”
Flambae lifts his hand again, touches his chest, then points at you. Slow. Deliberate. No accusation in the gesture.
“He says,” Prism goes on, eyes never leaving you, “that you could’ve killed him. And you didn’t.”
Flambae’s jaw tightens visibly beneath the bandage. His eyes flick away, shame flaring hot and sharp enough that you feel it like a burn along your spine.
Prism exhales. “And he says… he forgives you.”
The word lands like a physical blow.
Forgives.
Your knees almost buckle.
The Wolf stumbles, momentum breaking, confusion rippling through it in a way that feels almost… small. Vulnerable. You hadn’t prepared for this shape of outcome. Hadn’t armored yourself against mercy.
You shake your head once, sharp and disbelieving.
“I-” Your voice cracks immediately. You clamp your jaw shut, swallow hard, force the words out anyway. “I broke your jaw.”
The room holds its breath.
Flambae watches you carefully. Then, slowly, he shakes his head.
He lifts one finger, then two. Taps his chest again. Then makes a small circling motion near his head, grimacing slightly like it hurts to even pantomime.
Prism translates softly. “He says… fights aren’t clean. And that he underestimated you. And that underestimating people gets you hurt.”
A pause.
“And,” she adds, quieter, “he says you didn’t hurt him because you wanted to. You hurt him because you were cornered.”
You scrub a hand down your face, fingers catching briefly on sharp canines before you force them to retract again. Your breathing goes uneven, shame and relief and something dangerously close to gratitude tangling up until you don’t know which way is up anymore.
The Wolf doesn’t know what to do with mercy. It only knows how to respond to threat or dominance or hunger.
Just a careful adjustment of weight, the soft scuff of his shoe against the floor, the barely perceptible change in air pressure as he moves half a step closer. His presence doesn’t surge into your space- it slots there, like it was always meant to be.
The Wolf snaps its attention to him instantly.
Ears forward. Body lowering.
The constant internal noise drops a notch.
Sonar doesn’t look at you directly. He angles his body sideways, non-confrontational, hands still visible, shoulders loose. His ears rotate- not toward the room, not toward the exits- but toward you. Tracking your breath. Your heartbeat. The micro-stutters in your inhale when your control threatens to slip.
Your pulse starts to sync without you meaning to. Each time Sonar exhales slowly, your chest follows a half-second later. The Wolf mirrors it instinctively, recognizing something ancient and steady in the rhythm.
Your claws ease back a fraction. Your shoulders drop, just enough that the constant ache between them dulls. The frantic edge inside you softens into something taut but manageable, like a bowstring held steady instead of drawn to breaking.
Sonar murmurs, barely audible, “You’re okay,” not as reassurance, but as observation. As fact.
The Wolf accepts it.
You don’t fully realize how much you’ve been bracing until your weight settles more evenly over your feet, until the world stops feeling like it’s tilting under you. The room stops pressing in. The exits stop screaming their locations into your skull.
You look at Flambae, really look.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
The words are simple. Unarmored. Terrifying.
Punch Up wipes at his face with the heel of his hand, pretending very hard that he’s not emotional about this. Golem watches you with quiet, unmistakable approval.
Summary: The aftermath of Vox's foiled plans brings benefits and consequences.
Mouse Note: Thank you so much for joining me on this long, angsty journey of Nature of the Human Soul (Book 2)! I can't wait to be back since I love these characters so so much. Until them, I hope to have some one shots with Sprout coming, but it may take time. So, for now, I will say goodbye to you all! Until next time!
Everyone watched the aurora-like rainbow waver and fade above them. Sparkles like rain floated down, and all across Hell, cheers went up. Charlie screamed with excitement, hugging Vaggie with relief, and Vaggie laughed, holding her in return. Husk smiled in satisfaction, and Cherri whooped. (Y/N)’s arms dropped, and they smiled, eyes reflecting the sparkles in the air around them. Alastor looked at them, the fondness he couldn’t fight back anymore in his gaze. He noted that the white petals had already bled to red again. Well, he preferred red on his fawn anyway. All around, people were watching the Overlords and the Nature Demon in shock and awe. Several red eyes peeked from the shadows, blinking as they took in the scene. Rosie watched (Y/N) and Alastor with a smile and then looked up at the rainbow. She smiled wider.
Zeezi cleared her throat. “So we’re never fucking talking about this shit ever again, right?”
All of the Overlords murmured their agreement and hurried off. No one wanted to discuss how unity had been so much easier than always fighting one another. To admit that would be to create a fundamental shift in Hell. Carmilla rolled her eyes and smirked at Zestial, who smiled back at her. The pair headed off together. Rosie laughed lightly at all her fellow Overlords’ silliness.
“Holy fuck, we did it!” said Charlie. Emily hugged her in relief and exhilaration. “The power of friendship is strong within us!” She lunged to hug (Y/N), and they sidestepped, letting Vaggie take the hug instead.
Vaggie smiled over Charlie’s shoulder at (Y/N). “Thank you,” she murmured while Charlie laughed. “For stepping up.”
(Y/N) just smiled. They had done what their soul had demanded of them. They didn’t stand down.
“Excellent work, Sprout,” said Alastor, laying his staff on their shoulder.
(Y/N) glanced at it, saw it was fixed, and grinned. They looked up at him. “Thank you.”
Alastor looked back, his smile softening once more. Ah. Sentimentality. What a silly feeling. He didn’t leave their side, though.
A loud, pained groan caught people’s attention. From the crater beneath where the Might of Lilith had sat, Lucifer dragged himself out.
“Dad!” cried Charlie, not having realized that was where he was.
That explains the magic, thought (Y/N), wincing at what Lucifer must have gone through.
Lucifer coughed. “Don’t go down there. It’s a place of pain!” He collapsed, and Charlie and Vaggie supported him.
“People of Hell, hear me!” A familiar voice out, powerful and strong, from Heaven above. The broadcast was finally up and running. On the screens throughout Hell, Pentious’s face appeared—his scales slightly blue and his outfit yellow and white now. “I am the great and redeemed Sir Pentious, and I am here to tell you that I live! And I’m a good boy now.” Small angel wings fluttered behind him.
People stared as proof of Charlie’s words appeared. Redemption was real.
Cherri shoved herself to the front of the crowd. “Pentious?”
“We must avoid war with Heaven at all costs,” continued Pentious. “Vox must be stopped. Your very souls could depend upon—”
“Pentious, holy shit, it’s you!” said Charlie. Pentious froze as he realized that he might be a little late to the party. “We’re-We’re good actually, but it is good to see you! You look cuter! Heaven looks really good on you.”
“Charlie! Oh, oh, splendid. Well.” Pentious really had nothing else to say. “Um, okay. Jolly good, then. Um, okay, everyone, well—keep up the good work, and, okay, hope to see you soon up here.”
“Oi, dumbcunt!” shouted Cherri.
“Cherri!” The flaps of Pentious’s head flared. “Miss Bomb!” His eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Oh, I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to speak with you one more time.” He blushed. “So…how’s it going?”
“How’s it going?!” repeated Cherri incredulously. “You kiss me, you die for me, become the first redeemed sinner, and ‘how’s it going’—You fucking died on me, asshole!” She gave him the middle finger.
“Well, I, well, you…” Pentious stumbled nervously, still blushing. “Y-Yes, I did.”
Cherri couldn’t hold it in. She started laughing. “You—You’re a fucking dork,” she said with an overwhelming amount of fondness. “Never mind how I am, tell me about Heaven. You get in any good fights lately? You better not have some new rival.”
“Certainly not,” said Pentious while people started to return to their lives around the screen. Sera floated through a portal to hold Emily close, sinners started to dig their homes out of rubble, Overlords left the courtyard, and many sinners began to approach Charlie. No one wanted anything to do with the Vees for the moment as Valentino tucked Vox back under his arm. “They kind of frown on violence and death machines up here. It’s quite nice, though. You’d really like it, I think.” He frowned. “Curses, my signal might go out soon, but, Cherri, I’m so happy to have seen you again.”
“Back atcha,” said Cherri, pleased. “Take care of yourself!”
The screen switched off. Cherri grinned and ran over to Husk and Angel Dust. (Y/N) brightened when they saw him.
“Husk, Angel!” They left Alastor’s side and ran towards them. "Are you alright? I didn't see you during the fight." They had no idea whether they had been safe or not.
Husk patted their shoulder affectionately. "We're alright, kid. We dealt with our own problems. It's you who did the heavy-hitting. Good job." He was definitely impressed. Surprised. Shocked, even. (Y/N) was going to be a force in Hell.
(Y/N) smiled slightly shyly. "Guess so."
“Kid,” said Angel Dust in relief. After what Vox had demanded of him, he had been terrified for them. But they were alright, if a bit torn up. Angel Dust reached out slightly, and (Y/N) hugged him. Angel Dust held them tightly in relief before stepping back. At least he could have that moment. He smiled at (Y/N), who smiled in return. Then his smile fell. “Listen, kid, I—If I hadn’t told Vox about your headaches and his hypnosis, you—”
(Y/N) held up a hand. “It wasn’t your fault, Angel.” They wouldn’t accept an apology from him when it wasn’t his fault. It was all Vox, (M/N), and (F/N)’s faults.
Angel Dust tried to believe it. But it was his fault. It was his fault because he didn’t have a choice. He was at the whims of Valentino and the rest of the Vees. Over everyone’s heads, as he entered V Tower, Valentino smirked at him. Angel Dust stepped back and deflated.
“What a loser, right?” scoffed Cherri. “Now, Angel, don’t start with the whole Pentious—” Angel Dust started walking towards V Tower. “Angie?”
“Angel?” Husk looked upon him adoringly. “Where are you going?”
“Back,” said Angel Dust, hugging himself tightly.
Cherri scoffed. “Back? Back where?”
Husk’s smile faltered, and (Y/N) frowned.
“Back—Back to my job, back to my life, back…back to Val,” said Angel Dust, utterly defeated.
“What?” (Y/N) stepped forward. “Angel, no, you should come home.”
“I can’t,” said Angel Dust, still walking away.
“Angie, what the fuck are you talking about? You’re free now,” said Cherri.
“I’m not!” Angel Dust whirled on them, tears in his eyes. “I never was.” He sobbed. “I mean, do you have an eye what they made me do? They had me rattin’ on the hotel for—I don’t even know how long!” And that was the most terrifying part. He had no idea what else could be wrong with him and making him a danger to his friends. “You’re not safe around me!”
“Oh, that’s bullshit!” said Husk desperately. His wings fluffed up as he reached out to Angel Dust. “Come on, Angel. We can help you.”
Angel Dust batted his hand away. “No, you can’t. This whole time, I thought I had a choice. What a fucking joke.”
“Angel Dust, we can help. We can figure something out,” said (Y/N), voice soft as a member of their family stepped farther and farther away.
“No, kid, you can’t,” said Angel Dust. “He’s got my soul. I don’t got a choice.”
“You do have a choice,” said Cherri.
“I didn’t when I had my hands around your neck, and I don’t now,” said Angel Dust, voice filled with an exhausted sense of defeat. “The last choice I ever got to make was when I signed my soul away.” He turned away.
“Angel.” Husk took his hand, not forcefully, just softly and gently, a plead for him to listen. “Please. Don’t.” His ears fell back, a sadness so deep it reached his aching heart etched into his face.
“I’m sorry.” Angel Dust faced them, tears running down his face and smudging mascara. “Just do me a favor—”
“Angel,” said (Y/N), reaching out.
Angel Dust pulled away. “—and forget you ever knew me.”
“Angie, no!” said Cherri, but Angel Dust kept walking.
“Please!” Husk begged, and his voice trailed off, weak. “I—” His whole body folded in, smaller with pain. “Come back.”
(Y/N) put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get him back, Husk,” they murmured. “He’ll come home.” They had to believe it. They couldn’t abandon family. Even if it took years, they would get Angel Dust back.
For the moment, though, the Hotel was left without one of its dearest guests.
l
(Y/N) walked through the crowd of guests just as they had just a week or so ago. It was hard to believe how much had changed in that time. People made space for them as they walked, watching them with, instead of fear, something like admiration. It was new. (Y/N) didn’t mind it, though. Especially since people were at the hotel for the right reasons.
They passed by Vaggi—Vaggi, no “e,” had finally figured her name out—and smiled at her. They rolled their eyes at the TV screen where Katie Killjoy and Valentino were pretending everything Vox had done was a mishap and that he didn’t exist in their lives at all. The Vees were still spinning the truth. (Y/N) had no idea what would happen to Vox for betraying his colleagues, but, no matter what the Vees had planned or did, they would be ready. They would face the Vees and bring Angel Dust home. Their chest clenched painfully, and they took a breath. It would take time, but they would bring him home.
(Y/N) watched Lucifer disappear from the crowd in a puff of flames. He still wasn’t used to the amount of people, but he was there to support Charlie, and so he would stay at the hotel. (Y/N) suspected he could also do with some redemption—self-forgiveness, at the very least.
They saw Alastor emerging from the hallways and smiled, heading up the stairs. Alastor’s eyes scanned the crowd, also amused when he spotted Lucifer disappearing. (Y/N) arrived at the banister and leaned on it beside Alastor.
“Still here?” they said, looking up at him.
“For the moment,” said Alastor. “I have found a few things to amuse me.” He didn’t look away from (Y/N).
They smiled and looked at the crowd. “Well, you’re not going to be watching people fail at redemption. It’s proven.”
Alastor tutted. “A far less entertaining result than I had anticipated.”
“You’re saying the last week hasn’t been enough entertainment for you?” (Y/N) straightened, just their hands leaning on the banister. “You broke your deal with nothing but wordplay.”
“Vox has always been predictable. Rather boring, in the end,” said Alastor.
“I’m not talking about Vox.”
Radio static screeched, and Alastor’s glowing eyes snapped to (Y/N), who was still casually looking down. “What are you talking about?” he said, voice low.
“I’m talking about the other chain you mentioned once you got free of Vox,” said (Y/N). They looked at Alastor. “I was hypnotized. I could still hear everything.”
“What do you want for your silence?” said Alastor instantly.
(Y/N) sighed and straightened. “Have I asked for anything?”
“You will,” said Alastor.
“I won’t,” said (Y/N). “You don’t owe me anything.”
Alastor narrowed his eyes. He knew (Y/N) was an unusually kind soul to find in Hell, but even so, to this degree felt suspicious.
“Besides, you helped me against my mother and father.” (Y/N) shook their head. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Alastor looked at (Y/N) and their soft smile. They were being honest, just as he was always lying. Sentimentality burned into him. His eyes landed on the cross-shaped scar on their forehead, somewhat faded but still present. “Your parents—” he began, the more comfortable feeling of wrath and desire for violence welling up.
“I tore my mother apart,” said (Y/N). “She’s probably pulling herself back together somewhere. If she comes for me again, she’ll have to knowing that I’m stronger than her.”
Alastor’s fingers drummed on his staff. “Your father escaped, however. We could hunt him down.”
(Y/N) shook their head. “I won’t.”
“You don’t want revenge for the way he treated you?” In life and in death remained unsaid as Alastor looked at (Y/N).
“I gave seventeen years of my life to him,” said (Y/N). “Unless he comes for me, I refuse to waste another minute on him.” They doubted he would stay away, but (Y/N) was ready. They would never be their father's victim again.
Alastor wondered if that was weakness or strength. He knew his own decision would be to hunt (F/N) down and tear him apart. Perhaps he would, even on his own. No one got to hurt his fawn like that and get away with it. But (Y/N) was clearly not moving on their decision. Once again, they were far too good for Alastor.
(Y/N) looked at Alastor. “I’d rather spend my time focusing on the people I care about.” Before Alastor could speak, (Y/N) continued. “I know, I know. You don’t care about people. I won’t ask you to.” They waved a hand to the Hotel, and they laughed, bitterness tainting their tone. “You’re at the Hotel for a reason, and it sure as hell isn’t redemption. I’m not going to lie to myself.”
Alastor’s grip on his cane tightened. “You think this is a game?”
(Y/N) frowned. “Yes? That’s what you do. You play games, manipulate people, and scheme your way to the top.” They gestured vaguely. “That’s what giving yourself up to Vox was.” They sighed. “I should’ve listened to Husk and not gone to help.”
They had come to the rally to help him? Alastor had thought it was just to face Vox and tear him down a peg. That would have been a very (Y/N)-esque move.
“You had it under control,” said (Y/N). “You know how to play Hell to your advantage.”
“You’re correct. I do,” said Alastor. He had freed himself from Rosie’s original deal, gotten his staff back, and had many plots for more power with his newfound freedom. The Hotel was a complicated aspect of his game, but it was a stepping-stone.
(Y/N)’s flowers wilted slightly. They knew that. They had tried to help Alastor, foolishly caring for someone who wasn’t capable of it—or at least didn’t want to. Didn’t want to care for them.
“However,” continued Alastor, “You are not a game.”
(Y/N) straightened and stared at him. Alastor watched their eyes search his gaze for some sort of tell to understand whether he was lying or telling the truth. He knew they found none. He was inscrutable. But all the same, he hoped wanted them to know he was being truthful.
“I’m…what?” said (Y/N).
“Not a game,” said Alastor. He smiled and pointed at them with his cane. “Do you really think I would defend anyone the way I defended you?”
“If it served you, yes,” said (Y/N) plainly. They knew Alastor. He was a dealmaker. He played chess while others played checkers, and he cheated at that chess.
Alastor paused, unsure of how to respond. He was being serious. He would never watch over another soul the way he did with (Y/N). But they didn’t believe it. Alastor was too much like, well, himself to be trusted. And they were right, of course, that he couldn’t be trusted. He still had a game. He still had the Hotel and Lucifer and Hell part of his schemes. And they would fight against him the moment he tried anything, and Alastor didn’t want to think about what it would mean to have to face them in such a way. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to show you,” said Alastor.
(Y/N) smiled, shook their head, and looked back out at the lobby below. The flowers in the corners of each room were bright and alive once more. “I guess you will.” They couldn’t take an adult’s words at face-value. Their parents had professed their love over and over while striking (Y/N). They could never fall for those lies again. They wanted to believe, though.
“Sprout,” said Alastor. They glanced at him. He nearly told them that Vox had taken them partially because Alastor cared. He nearly told them that Vox had tortured him with the sounds of their screams. He nearly told them that he called them his fawn in his mind now. But Alastor didn’t. That sort of offer of intimacy was still too raw. “Thank you for…being you.” (Y/N) had come to help him when they thought he was in danger. (Y/N) had fought beside him without hesitation. (Y/N) didn’t press about his former deal. They were a good person. A good soul.
(Y/N)’s smile widened, and the familiar warmth in their chest returned. They might not allow themself to believe Alastor, but that didn’t stop the care from growing within their chest. “I spent too long being someone else. It’s nice to be me.” They looked at the hotel. “I don’t think I want to change that. Even for redemption.” They had been promised Heaven and love if they acted properly in life. (Y/N) wouldn’t force themself into a mold in death. They deserved more than that.
Alastor didn’t respond. He could still picture the white petals of their roses during the moment of unity Hell had shown. He suspected they were closer to redemption than they realized. (Y/N) was too good, too kind, too bright of a soul for Hell.
Alastor narrowed his eyes. He was not ready to lose his fawn. Not to Vox, not to their biological parents, not to Heaven.
(Y/N) saw none of this protectiveness growing within Alastor. They looked at the lobby of the Hotel and saw their family hard at work to bring more people to redemption, giving people a chance to be better than they had been. (Y/N) smiled. This was change. This was people in harmony. The plants around them twisted upwards, growing more and more alive just as (Y/N)’s strength did. They looked upwards at the windows above the lobby. Heaven shone in the sky over Hell. (Y/N) smiled and hummed to themself, a soft melody that echoed in the in the rustle of leaves. Harmony: that was what was growing within (Y/N).
Nature of the Human Soul (Book 2) Chapter Nineteen
Found Family! Hazbin Hotel and Teen! Reader
Father Figure! Alastor and Teen! Reader
Chapter Nineteen: Believing in Hope
Summary: Vox's desperation means he'll do anything he can to beat Alastor, even at the cost of Hell.
Vox gritted his teeth and sat up. He pulled brambles off himself, cursing Alastor and (Y/N) under his breath. He stood, eyes glowing with fury. The Might of Lilith caught his eye. It stood in the center of the courtyard, alone and unguarded. Vox grinned.
Across the city, Shock.wav broke out of the skyscraper debris and roared. (Y/N) and Alastor dodged back as it lunged and snapped at them.
“Bad shark-dog-thing!” said Alastor, skating down the side of a building.
(Y/N) slid down next to him. “Go back to your dad! Shoo!” they shouted upwards.
“Smile for the camera, bitch!” shouted Vox from V Tower, spinning the Might of Lilith around.
(Y/N) saw the light building, and their eyes widened. “Alastor, jump!”
Alastor jumped, and (Y/N) shoved off the building. Shock.wav followed, but what mattered was that the undiluted divine magic that shot through Hell didn’t hit them. Instead, it sliced through an entire sector of the Entertainment District. Several buildings fell as their foundations were taken out, and multitudes of people were sent to their final deaths within before they had a clue what was happening.
“What the hell is he doing?!” said (Y/N), ducking as another blast singed the land.
Alastor flicked his wrist, and shadows darted out. They pulled (Y/N) to his side as Vox sent another blast careening over Hell. He was going to level most of the district at the rate he was going, and he was cackling as he did it.
However, his broadcast had never ended. People could see his murders, his callous disregard for the people he had said he would serve and protect. Those who had lifted him up were being crushed beneath him.
All at once, people knew the liar and traitor Vox was at his heart. All of (Y/N)’s words—the real words—rang true, and his ratings dropped off a cliff.
Vox faltered as he felt his power slipping. His eyes widened as the approval ratings began to weaken him. And then his eyes narrowed. Fury wrapped around his heart as he realized that, once again, Alastor and (Y/N)’s actions had destroyed peoples’ trust in him. He grabbed the Might of Lilith tighter.
“You will not take this away from me!” he shouted. He had fought too hard through his life and death to have his power stolen by a has-been and an upstart. He grabbed the Might of Lilith and kept shooting. Vox would suck Lucifer dry of magic before he stopped. He would raze Pentagram city before he stopped. He would kill everyone before he stopped. Just so long as it meant Alastor was fucking gone.
(Y/N) and Alastor jumped from building to building as Shock.wav chased them. Vines and shadows slowed it, but the pet was strong and kept coming. Each dodge brought them close to another shot from the Might of Lilith, though, and that meant Alastor and (Y/N) never had a moment to gain their bearings and fight back
“Stupid, cursed…get this thing away from us!” snapped Alastor, flipping through the air.
Shock.wav lunged for Alastor, jaw snapping down. (Y/N) swung over and shoved Alastor out of the way. Shock.wav’s jagged metallic teeth dug into (Y/N)’s shoulder.
“(Y/N), no!” shouted Charlie from where she was pulling people from the rubble of buildings.
“Fawn!” shouted Alastor, pulling on all his power. His staff was still broken, but he used all the magic he had known as a human to reach out for them.
Without hesitation, Emily flew in and grabbed (Y/N). She torn them free. And then the Might of Lilith hit. Emily screamed as her left wings were fried, and (Y/N) shouted as their flowers were singed. The blast threw Alastor back, and his stitches tore. All three tumbled to the ground before V Tower. Charlie ran to Emily’s side, holding her up as her wings bled gold. Alastor pulled himself up, eyes searching for (Y/N). They rolled over, forcing themself up despite the way their body was exhausted and bleeding. They saw Alastor, and their eyes widened. They stood, stumbled to him, and dropped.
“Alastor, are you alright?” (Y/N)’s flowers wilted with worry when they saw all the blood. “Shit, shit.” Their hands trembled as they tried to pull up vines to pull Alastor to safety. Their flowers were still recovering, though.
Alastor watched them. They weren’t leaving. They weren’t running to save themself. They should. Alastor would. (Even though he hadn’t. He had lunged for them—his fawn).
Vox’s cackle echoed over the yard. “Four for the price of one!” The Might of Lilith aimed directly at Emily, Charlie, (Y/N), and Alastor. Vox walked down the barrel of the gun, a mad glint in his eye. He had officially lost it. All he saw was an opportunity to hurt those who had wronged him. The angel for daring to go against him instead of giving him the kingdom he deserved. Charlie for not bowing as she should have. Alastor for rejecting him. (Y/N) for being the one Alastor chose. “You’ve just been fucking cancelled.”
“Vox, stop!” shouted Carmilla, covering herself and Vaggie as the Might of Lilith glowed bright with destructive power. “Firing anymore will overload the weapon.”
“Then I better make these shots count!” jeered Vox.
“You idiot! If it overloads, it will blow, taking you, us, and half the pentagram with it!” warned Carmilla.
“You know what?!” Vox’s eyes twitched and glitched. His screen was dark outside of his red eyes. He cackled manically. “Fuck Hell, fuck Heaven, fuck all of you!” His shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths. “As long as I wipe that smile off Alastor’s fucking face—” a single tear of exhaustion, fury, and long-buried grief fell down his cheek, but Vox’s deranged smile never wavered “—I don’t care what happens.”
Alastor reached out for (Y/N) unconsciously, and while their eyes remained glued on Vox and they knelt next to him, Alastor’s hand hovered over their shoulder. He had touched them before. “Fondly.” For the game. When they were comfortable with it, of course, but still. He had touched them. Yet in this moment, one where they could die, Alastor felt a chasm opening up. Too intimate. Too close. Too honest. He knew what the feeling was. He didn’t know if he was ready for (Y/N) to know. That would mean something he hadn’t had since his mother.
The buzz of the Might of Lilith crackled, and Alastor’s eyes returned to Vox, whose eyes were wide with a manic glint that promised pain. The barrel of the gun glowed, energy collecting at the tip. Vox cackled.
Velvette jump-kicked him off the Might of Lilith. Vox hit the ground, laughter cut off.
“Fuck!” he cried, affronted.
Valentino dragged him off the ground, glaring at him. “You are not fucking killing us over that stupid deer and his fucking plant!”
“It’s over, ya dumbfuck!” snapped Velvette. The Vees were fed up with Vox and his mania.
“Fuck that!” retorted Vox, shoving them off. “This is my moment, my fucking destiny! I’m a fucking god!”
Valentino grabbed Vox’s screen, braced against his chest with a foot, and pulled. His head ripped from his body, and Vox’s eyes widened as blood sprayed from his limp body’s stump of a neck. Valentino tucked Vox under his arm, lifted Velvette up, and gritted his teeth. “We’re leaving!” he declared. He extended his wings. Smoke drifted from one torn wing—a final parting gift from Husk’s attacks. The Vees weren’t going anywhere. “Fuck.” They peeked up at the Might of Lilith as it started to overload and vibrate. “Oh, shit.”
“Charlie!” shouted Vaggie, running to her, still kneeling with Emily.
Charlie’s eyes never left the weapon. When it blew, it would take out so many lives. “Oh, no, we have to get people to safety, we-we need to—”
“It’s no use, we won’t get clear in time,” said Carmilla gravely.
(Y/N)’s eyes widened. No. Not when they’d come so far…They couldn’t die now. The wind whirled, and the few trees left standing rustled. The old familiar whispers lilted on the wind, urging (Y/N) onwards. (Y/N) pushed themself to their feet. They had no idea what they were doing, but they were a being of nature. They followed their instincts.
“(Y/N), we have to leave,” said Alastor, forcing himself to his feet. “My shadows—”
(Y/N) wasn’t listening and stepped towards the weapon. Alastor’s shadows jerked protectively, but the crackling magic around Might of Lilith broke them.
“(Y/N),” said Alastor.
(Y/N) held their hands up, facing the Might of Lilith. They took a breath, closed their eyes, and did something they hadn’t for over a year. They prayed. Lord, give me the strength to defeat evil.
(Y/N) opened their eyes, summoned their magic, and forced it into the Might of Lilith. Green light swirled with patterns of leaves as they tried to cocoon the weapon in a shield of pure magic. The strain was immense. (Y/N) was exhausted. They had been beaten and bruised, they wore scars all over their body, and they had never used so much magic or tried to manipulate such raw magic before. But they stood strong. (Y/N) had come too far to falter. They had to defeat evil. They had to protect their family.
(Y/N)
“Hear my hope.”
The simple words, as honest as (Y/N) had ever been, rang out in the silence.
(Y/N)
“Let it echo.”
(Y/N) let out a breath that held the voice of the earth within it. Their magic grew brighter, the glowing sigils of leaves floating on a summer breeze.
(Y/N)
“In every soul that needs,
Something to believe in.”
Around the courtyard, the Overlords sat up and poked their heads out of their hiding places. All of them stared at the lone sinner—the Nature Demon—standing before the weapon that threatened the entirety of the Pentagram.
Charlie’s eyes widened, and Vaggie stood straighter. Emily struggled to her feet. She stepped forward, and Charlie stepped with her.
((Y/N), Charlie, and Emily)
“Take my hand.”
(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across their face as Charlie and Emily raised their hands. Charlie’s golden, music-infused magic flowed into the shield (Y/N) was generating, and Emily’s soothing rain joined the pure magic.
((Y/N), Charlie, and Emily)
“Never let go,
Even one soft sound,
Can shake the hardest ground.”
The three streams of magic collected as their harmony rose into the air. The Might of Lilith crackled against them, but the three didn’t falter.
Alastor watched, dragging himself to his feet. That was his fawn.
((Y/N), Charlie, and Emily)
“And even if we die striving to find the peace we lost,
At least we’ll know we tried, didn’t stand by with fingers crossed.”
Another sinner stepped up and raised his hands. Amber magic sparked with playing card suits and joined the rest of the magic. Husk furrowed his brow in concentration. (Y/N) smiled as he joined, and their own energy felt re-emboldened.
((Y/N), Charlie, Emily, and Husk)
“Raise your voice, light the fire,
Till our hopes and fears,
Reach a billion ears.”
A fifth person joined, and Niffty grinned with determination as paper-like slips of magic floated into the shield they were forming. No one had expected that magic from her, but she just smiled and kept summoning it.
((Y/N), Charlie, Emily, Husk, and Niffty)
“Lend your breath, join the choir,
Let the music span o’er this broken land.”
Vaggie put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder, unable to offer magic but always there to give love and support.
((Y/N), Charlie, Emily, Husk, Niffty, and Vaggie)
“And many years from now, if any live to hear this song—”
Angel Dust placed a gentle hand on Husk’s shoulder. Cherri and Baxter stood with him. Husk smiled at Angel Dust, who smiled back. Lovingly.
((Y/N), Charlie, Emily, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, and Baxter)
“—A story about how all Hell joined hands and sang along.”
Alastor watched his fawn stand taller, blazing with power. The now-familiar sentiment curled around his heart. He clenched his fist around the broken cane. He still lacked the power he needed. And when he did, he should run. He should save himself. The Hotel meant nothing. But Alastor’s eyes couldn’t leave (Y/N).
((Y/N), Charlie, Emily, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, and Baxter)
“It begins with just one note,
A crescendo ‘til the end, no matter what it takes to stay afloat,
Hear my hope!”
A golden portal opened above, and a cackle echoed across the courtyard. Lute flew down and landed on the Might of Lilith. She wore her exorcist mask and her golden arm, and she grinned cruelly down at the sinners. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in horror, but they couldn't move from where they were maintaining their magic.
(Vaggie)
“What are you doing here?”
(Lute)
“I’m here to finish what I started.”
Abel flew through and grabbed her arm before Lute could attack.
(Abel)
“Let’s get Emily and go.”
“No!” cried Charlie. They needed everyone’s help if they were going to seal the Might of Lilith and save Pride Ring from annihilation.
(Charlie)
“How can you be so coldhearted?”
(Vaggie)
“Everybody dies if we don’t do this.”
Lute tore her arm from Abel’s grip and spun her sword around.
(Lute)
“And so be it, don’t resist!”
“Or what?” spat Vaggie.
(Lute)
“I’ll take your other eye!”
“Just try,” said Vaggie, narrowing her eyes and pulling her spear out.
Abel flew between them and shook his hand.
(Abel)
“Lute, this isn’t what we talked about.”
(Emily)
“Abel, please!”
(Charlie)
“We don’t have time for this!”
(Lute)
“Shut your mouth, abomination!”
“Abel, you can stop this!” said Vaggie.
“Abel!” pleaded Charlie.
“Abel!” cried Emily. “Please!”
“Enough!” shouted Lute, launching herself towards the sinners—towards Charlie, Vaggie, and (Y/N).
Vaggie lunged into the air before she could harm any of the people trying to protect Hell. They clashed, flying around the clearing, each equally talented compared to the other, but fighting for who they loved.
Abel fled behind a rock, breaths coming hard as panic set in.
(Abel)
“Can’t breathe, vision’s getting blurry now,
Nosebleed, never been so worried, how’m
I supposed to handle the pressure,
It would be better if I were anybody else,
Dear Dad, tell me what you would’ve done,
Too bad that I’m not your braver son.”
He watched Vaggie hit the ground and roll, scrambling to fly back up as Lute chased her around V Tower’s garden.
(Abel)
“I wish that I could be anybody else,
I’m supposed to do something,
Am I—Am I supposed to do something?”
He could see the sinners, Emily, and Charlie trying to protect Hell, none faltering in the face of danger like he was. He could see Lute’s rage and Vaggie’s desire to protect the people she loved. He swallowed. Abel was cowering while they were being brave.
(Abel)
“Do I run? Do I dare?
Can I grant my own prayer?”
Lute raised her sword over Vaggie’s head.
(Abel)
“Get a grip, grow a pair.”
He jumped into the air and flew between Vaggie and Lute. Golden light surrounded him as he put up a hand.
(Abel)
“Let me stop you right there!
There’s no cause for attack!
Swallow your pride, cast your bloodlust aside,
Bitch, you better fall back!”
Lute stared at him and his confidence, and in her mind’s eye, the form of Adam flashed above him, disapproving of her. All at once, her determination melted away. All she felt was a hollowness settling into her soul. Her vengeful spirit remained, but Lute couldn’t move when faced with that expression.
Abel sent her straight through a small portal, back to Heaven where she couldn’t hurt anyone.
Charlie looked at Vaggie, relieved she was alright. Vaggie smiled back. And then Emily stumbled, body screaming at her for rest after the injuries it had incurred.
“I can’t hold it much longer,” groaned Emily.
(Y/N) cast a worried glance at her. Their own body was growing tired, but none of them could afford to let go. The shield wasn’t finished. The Pentagram wasn’t safe.
Vaggie supported Emily.
“We got you,” said Charlie.
Vaggie looked at the shield that was inching its way up around the Might of Lilith. It was flimsy. When the machine exploded, it would be five bits of magic versus pure, undiluted divine magic, magnified through science.
(Vaggie)
“We need to be stronger.”
Husk gritted his teeth into a grimace.
(Husk)
“We’ve done all we can, there’s no way.”
Angel Dust and Niffty looked down in disappointment as the grim reality set in.
(Angel Dust and Niffty)
“No way.”
Cherri held onto her arm, crestfallen as she realized that this was her end. She wasn’t redeemed, and she would never see Pentious again. She would never see any of her friends again.
(Cherri)
“There’s no one left to save the day.”
Charlie swallowed but smiled at her friends. If she was going to die, then at least it was doing the right thing alongside her family. Still, a tear slipped down her cheek.
(Charlie)
“It’s okay.”
(Y/N) gritted their teeth and looked at the Might of Lilith. Even as exhaustion settled into their very bones, their magic hadn’t faltered once, and (Y/N) wouldn’t let it. They would fight to the last moment. They had asked for the strength to defeat evil, and they wouldn’t squander the possibility that strength existed within their soul.
Carmilla stepped out of her hiding place, brow creased with mournful confusion. She looked directly at (Y/N), the one who had warned them of Vox’s desires and the consequences and the first to choose to protect Hell rather than save themself.
(Carmilla)
“You would risk your life?
Batwings opened behind her, and her dear friend appeared with her, a gentle smile on his face as he looked over (Y/N), the rest of the Hotel sinners, and the angel trying to protect the Pentagram. Carmilla smiled when she saw him, feeling stronger already.
(Zestial)
“For souls that Heaven sought to kill.”
Carmilla and Zestial smiled at one another. They were…Well, they were them. They would fight for their home.
(Carmilla and Zestial)
“We cannot just stand by,
It’s time to match your strength of will.”
Carmilla and Zestial stepped up and raised their hands. Zestial’s ghostly green magic and Carmilla’s silver power joined the magic fighting back the Might of Lilith’s impending explosion.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, and Zestial)
[Sinners at the same time]
“Hear my hope!”
[“Save us from harm!”]
Carmilla glanced at (Y/N), who smiled at her. Carmilla nodded back with a quick acknowledgment of respect. The other Overlords looked at one another, and, one by one, they stood taller, stepping out of hiding places. Cactus-like magic, golden and black, joined the shield. Blue flames flowed into the shield. Decibel meters of beats thrummed with magic. Powers from every corner of the Pentagram joined together to protect the Ring.
(((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Zeezi, maestro, Prick, and Hatchet)
[Sinners at the same time]
“In every soul that needs—”
[“Lay down our arms”]
“—something to believe,
Take my hand.”
[“Just for a day.”]
“Never let go,
Even one soft sound—”
[“Put war away.”]
“—Can shake the hardest ground.”
Hidden beneath the still-standing arches of V Tower’s grounds, Alastor watched, holding his staff tightly. A burst of light with roses within illuminated the corner, and Rosie stepped out.
(Rosie)
“Why don’t you help them?”
She gestured to the group, (Y/N), with a hand and looked down on Alastor.
(Rosie)
“You double-dealing manipulator?”
Alastor put confidence back onto his face and straightened. He scoffed and adjusted his monocle.
(Alastor)
“What’s in it for me?
I don’t work for free,
You want help, well, you know the fee.”
His fucking staff wasn’t fixed. Alastor couldn’t summon his magic in its purest form. His current options were leaving and dying for no reason. He’d choose to leave and fight another day over than anything else.
(Rosie)
“I will not reward a snake like you!”
Sickly green flames flew around Alastor, and the shadows of all those at the Hotel who would die wavered within them.
(Alastor)
“You’ll watch them die unless you do!”
Rosie’s eyes widened. He wouldn’t kill (Y/N). He wouldn’t. She saw the shadow of (Y/N) and saw that it flickered much more wildly, more forced. Rosie narrowed her eyes. She didn’t believe he could go through with it. He wouldn’t make himself suffer just to make her suffer, would he?
(Rosie)
“Liar! You wouldn’t dare.”
Alastor smirked as he saw her reaction. It was precisely what he thought it would be with her little plans. She didn’t need to know that every instinct in Alastor was screaming at him to melt into the shadows and drag (Y/N) to farthest corner of Hell if she refused him.
(Alastor)
“Quid pro quo, it’s only fair.”
He approached her, and Rosie narrowed her eyes. She wouldn’t make a deal and sell her soul off to him so he could have his revenge. But then again, what could Rosie do? She needed those sinners fighting for Hell.
(Rosie)
“You really are a demon, pet.”
Alastor grinned and extended his broken staff to her.
(Alastor)
“You knew my game the day we met.”
Rosie’s narrowed eyes regarded the staff. Then, her expression warmed. Not her soul—his staff. That she could make due with. It was a very amenable deal. Rosie took it, and in a flash of light, it was healed. Alastor greedily took it back in hand, grinning wider as his complete power returned.
Rosie and Alastor looked at one another. Alastor grinned, and Rosie smirked. Then they stepped out together, walking to the other Overlords and sinners struggling. Rosie held up her hands, and Alastor lifted his staff. White-gold light with tiny floating roses joined the shield, and Alastor grinned as green-tinged shadows struck the shield to power it.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“Hear my hope.”
(Y/N) looked up when they saw the shadowy magic beside their own lively magic. Alastor stood beside them, focused and in control of their magic. (Y/N) smiled, and their heart grew lighter. Alastor looked down at them, his wide grin softening ever-so-slightly.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“Let it thunder,
across this prideful ring.”
Alastor watched (Y/N) face the Might of Lilith again, their grin growing more confident, irises turning rose-shaped as they brought out all their magic. He saw several flowers on their head begin to pale, a few precious petals turning pure white. Alastor forced his eyes back to the task at hand, but the image of the snowy petals was imprinted on his mind.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“ ‘Til every last soul sings.”
The Might of Lilith lifted into the air, almost entirely covered in a glowing golden shield.
Velvette gritted her teeth, stood, and dragged Valentino out of their hiding place. “Aw, fuck it.” Vox’s head was abandoned on the ground.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“Take my hand.”
(Valentino and Velvette)
“We’ll take your hand.”
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“Feel the wonder.”
Vox watched his colleagues from his spot on the ground, stuck. “Wait, what?”
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“In perfect harmony—”
(Valentino and Velvette)
“Not what we had planned.”
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“—we’ll change our destiny.”
Valentino and Velvette’s magenta and purple magic joined the rest of the magic in lifted the Might of Lilith upwards. The shield was almost sealed.
“What the fuck is happening?!” cried Vox, staring at the display of unity.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“And many years from now,
If any live to hear this song.”
(Valentino and Velvette)
“If we live.”
“Stop it right now!” shouted Vox.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, and Rosie)
“The story of how we learned together we are strong.”
The group stepped forward, smiles on their faces as they grew confident, stronger.
“No, no, no, no, no!” Vox watched with wide eyes as the Might of Lilith floated higher and higher.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, Rosie, Valentino, and Velvette)
“It began with just one note.”
“Stop it, I hate this!” shouted Vox. It went against every lesson he’d learned in life. It was everyone for themself, not this sickening display of teamwork where no one came out on top. And if they failed, they all died, but none of them truly seemed to care so long as they were fighting. Vox was utterly and completely confused.
((Y/N), Emily, Charlie, Husk, Niffty, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri, Baxter, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor, Rosie, Valentino, and Velvette)
“A crescendo ‘til the end, no matter what it takes.”
The shield sealed just as the golden light of divine magic broke out of Might of Lilith. It strained against the shell keeping it trapped.
“You’re ruining everything!” cried Vox.
But no one was listening to him. The song of harmony flowed through everyone’s minds, and their magic tied together into a single band that would withstand whatever was thrown at it.
(Y/N) grinned.
(All of Hell)
“Hear my hope!”
The Might of Lilith exploded. The shield broke with it, but the blast was contained. Instead of a devastating explosion of divine magic, the sky was lit up by a blend of all the sinners’ magics below. The rainbow extended across the entirety of the Pentagram, illuminating Hell as brightly as Heaven for a single moment.
Nature of the Human Soul (Book 2) Chapter Eighteen
Found Family! Hazbin Hotel and Teen! Reader
Father Figure! Alastor and Teen! Reader
Chapter Eighteen: Taking Demons Down
Summary: (Y/N) and Alastor teach Vox, (M/N), and (F/N) a lesson.
Alastor glanced at the briars poised to strike. They were frozen in place, unmoving and tense.
“What are you doing?! Kill him!” snapped Vox, glaring.
“As God intended.” (Y/N) was still. Their eyes were wide, like they were seeing for the first time in their life—and their pupils were roses. Their arms lit up with leaf and flower patterns, bright green. “You think you know what God intends?” Their words rumbled like an earthquake as they turned on Vox. “You know nothing. You are nothing but a little man trying to prove he’s something. It’s pathetic.”
Vox’s eyes widened. “How did you break—”
“I killed you because you were killing me.” (F/N) and (M/N) went still as (Y/N)’s gaze turned on them. Their voice no longer held the depths of the earth within it, but their voice remained low and dangerous. “You wanted to sell me off, and I just wanted to be left alone.”
“We were saving you. You choose sin at every turn,” said (F/N).
“I was a child!” shouted (Y/N). The plants were moving again, growing thorns and turning every blue bloom crimson. “And I begged you for mercy. You are the monsters. Not me.” Their hands curled into fists. “All of you. Using me, controlling me, hurting me…all in the name of power. You disgust me.” Green light swirled around them, and they raised their gaze. “No one will ever use me again.”
Alastor’s grin widened. There they were. His fawn stood strong and true. “Well now, Vox, old pal,” said Alastor, positively jubilant at the expression of fury on Vox’s face. “It seems you’ve lost all your cards.”
“Fuck you!” snapped Vox, rising into the air.
(M/N) stood from her chair. “If you can’t admit to your sins, then we will be the punishment you deserve. You do not get to win in Hell.”
(F/N)’s rosaries glowed golden and rose around him. “If we cannot be your salvation, we will be your damnation.”
(Y/N)’s face split into a grin, identical to Alastor’s. “I was your first death, and I will be your second.”
“You are ours to punish,” said (F/N). “Our daugh—”
“I am mine,” snapped (Y/N), the green magic flying over them.
It pulled the blood on their side away, even if it couldn’t heal their slight wound. It replaced the disgusting 1950s, Vox-chosen dress with something much more (Y/N). They wore a dark red skirt that fell below their knees with a pinstripe sinched shirt that matched perfectly. Even their heels had switched to black and red. They had switched everything from Vox and their parents’ colors. (Y/N) was separate from them.
Alastor smirked. Red was (Y/N)’s color. It was their—(Y/N) and Alastor’s—color. “Much better, Sprout.”
(Y/N) smiled at him. They were awake and alive and themself again. Free. "If I’m going to fight, I’m going to look good while doing it.” He and Rosie had taught them that one.
Vox glared, hypnotic eye tripled and quadrupled on every screen. “It doesn’t matter that you’re free!” His eye swirled on every screen, but (Y/N)’s mind didn’t waver once. They were growing. “I’ll beat you both back into submission! I am more powerful than I’ve ever been!”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” tutted Alastor. “You’re the most powerful sinner in Hell now. I have to thank you for that. Your little power grab helped break another chain that’s been holding me back for quite some time.” He smirked. “And now that my dear (Y/N) is free to fight as they choose…” His body crackled with green energy, eyes dials and shadows quivering. “We can finally settle this once and for all.” He grinned as he saw the rosaries, herbicidal smoke, and electric cables. Three demons versus two. “Finally, a fight that might be a challenge.” His antlers emerged. “Your screams will make a satisfying broadcast.”
He swung his cane out, and tiny imps of shadow ran for Vox. He smashed them with electricity, and vines wrapped around his cables, dragging him down. Herbicide smoke sprayed out, and (Y/N) coughed, gritting their teeth. A rosary wrapped around their wrist, but (Y/N) planted their feet and pulled. They threw their father across the yard, and he hit the ground while Alastor lunged and kicked Vox while he was pulling free of (Y/N)’s plants. Vox landed in his stage, tearing down multiple screens and cables with him.
Smoke and debris crashed down around him, and Vox snarled in anger, body glitching and morphing. He exploded out of the smoke, body encapsulated by screens and vicious grins and cables—huge and menacing, a computer virus made living.
“Broadcast this, fucker!”
Vox slashed at Alastor, who had to dodge back evasively. With his broken cane, parts of his abilities remained out of his reach, even if he was formidable. A cable grabbed Alastor and threw him into a screen. It cracked, and Alastor gritted his teeth as his injury threatened to tear open again.
Vox cackled. “Bitch.” He lunged at Alastor, grabbed him, and raked him down the side of the building, glass catching at his skin.
On the ground, (Y/N) dodged another whip of rosary beads, and the cross at the end hit their side. They stumbled and reached for their plants, but (M/N) twisted her hand, and the smoke condensed, choking (Y/N). The rosaries wrapped around them and burned. (Y/N) gritted their teeth, grabbed the beads despite the temperature, and whipped it. The force sent it flying into (M/N), and she cried out as her side split open. The smoke let go of (Y/N)’s neck, and a Venus Flytrap surged up from the ground, biting the chain in half even as it burnt away a moment later.
“You will pay for what you did to us, you filthy sinner!” shouted (F/N). He was glowing and floating above them, eyes blazing with heavenly wrath. “I am your judgement!” He raised a hand, and flames crackled.
(Y/N)’s vines wrapped around them a moment before the fire hit, and though they were singed, they were alive as they stepped back. “You are nothing but an abusive manipulator! The world should thank me for ridding it of a monster like you!” They grinned. “I never felt happier than when I shut you up.”
“I should have killed you the day you were born,” spat (M/N), body becoming a cloud of smog as she flew towards (Y/N).
Protective leaves wrapped around them, but they wilted the moment (M/N) passed over them and grabbed (Y/N)’s throat. (Y/N) planted their feet, reached for all the life the earth had to offer, and let their blood drip onto the ground. With all their might, they pulled up, and a burst of dandelions filled the space, wind taking their seeds and (M/N) with them into the air until she was forced to reform.
(Y/N) glanced up to where Alastor and Vox were smashing into another building. Alastor’s stitches were threatening to come undone. He was sling-shotting himself through Hell and tearing Vox apart, but Alastor was still feeling the pressure of the fight. (Y/N) felt the herbicidal mist settling over the yard again, and their father’s scorching heat was taking over the space, destroying the bits of life (Y/N) needed.
(Y/N) had no interest in drawing the battle out. They had struggled against their parents for seventeen years. They wanted this moment ended as soon as possible. (Y/N) grabbed their vines and swung up into the skyline of the entertainment district. (M/N) and (F/N) were on their heels a moment later, but (Y/N) was faster, plant-life pulling them onto the rooftop of a skyscraper before the smog could catch them. Vines lashed out and struck Vox in the chest, knocking him to the side as Alastor melted into shadow and solidified on the roof.
(Y/N) looked at Alastor. “Together?”
Alastor’s grin was positively wicked. “It would be my pleasure to work with you.”
(Y/N)’s grin mirrored his, and their eyes turned into roses once more as their power surged to the surface. Below them, Vox, (M/N), and (F/N) were climbing upwards.
“It’s time for a takedown,” said (Y/N) with a smirk. (Y/N) and Alastor launched from the top of the skyscraper down toward their opponents.
(Y/N)
“So sweet, so easy on the eyes.”
(Y/N) swung around the trio, a thorn slashing at their mother and father. Like a dancer, they pivoted as they went, remembering how Alastor swung himself on his shadows.
(Y/N)
“But hideous on the inside.”
As (M/N) faltered and (F/N) swung rosaries at them, (Y/N) flipped back over and perched on a railing of a balcony.
(Y/N)
“Whole life spreading lies, but you can’t hide—”
Alastor’s shadows struck all three demons at once. Vox tore them away, spinning on his mechanical torso and striking with electricity as glass showered down.
(Y/N)
“—baby, nice try.”
They were on Vox before he could identify where Alastor had gone, plants twisted in between his mechanical legs, and his joints jerked painfully.
(Y/N)
“I’m ‘bout to switch up these vibes, I finally opened my eyes.”
Electricity rippled out, breaking the glass behind them, and (Y/N) launched into the air, no fear as they soared above Hell with nothing beneath them. (Y/N) felt free. No one would ever control them again.
(Y/N)
“It’s time to kick you straight back into the night.”
(Y/N) flipped over midair, eyes glowing with power. Smoke spun around them, and shadows batted it away like fans. (Y/N) grinned.
(Y/N)
“’Cause I see your real face, and you’re ugly as sin.”
They had never been the sinner in that house. Their parents had been. (Y/N) had been a child. Vines lifted them into the air, and branches began to form an antler-like pattern on their head.
(Y/N)
“Time to put you in your place ‘cause you’re rotten within.”
Alastor grabbed (M/N) and smashed her through the building. She screamed, and Alastor cackled, enjoying the thrilling sound of her soul’s shrieks.
(Y/N) saw Vox lunging, electricity crackling around him as his eye glowed with hypnosis.
(Y/N)
“When your patterns start to show,
It makes the hatred wanna grow outta my veins.”
(Y/N) intercepted Vox while Alastor spun and lunged for (F/N), whose rosaries to combat the shadows in a battle of literal light versus darkness.
(Y/N)
“I don’t think you’re ready for thе takedown!”
(Y/N)’s vines wrapped around all of Vox’s limbs, and they smashed him into his own screen over the Entertainment District. Venus Flytraps grew out of offices, biting down on the screens floating around him.
(Y/N) grinned as they saw metal bending beneath their plants’ teeth.
(Y/N)
“Break you into pieces in a world of pain, ‘cause you’re all the same,
Yeah, it’s a takedown.”
They could hear their father’s angry roar—that damn voice he used when preaching his lies—as Alastor carved into his already-torn face. Alastor grinned as blood flew around him. Yes, yes, this man deserved to suffer.
(Y/N)
“A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live, it’s so obvious.”
(F/N) was precisely the type of man Alastor had always enjoyed carving up in life, and he relished the sensation of tearing his fawn’s father apart for what he had done. The only good thing (F/N) had ever done was create (Y/N) and provoke them enough to send them to Hell—to Alastor.
(Y/N)
“I’ma gear up and take you down.”
(Background)
“Woah-oh, da-da-da, down.”
(Y/N) launched down, kicked Vox in the chest, and sent him crashing into the city streets below, breaking apart cars and cement like nothing.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown.”
(Background)
Woah-oh, da-da-da, down.”
Mist collected around (Y/N), and their plants faltered. (Y/N) hissed as they fell and crashed onto a roof, their mother’s body reforming around them, eyes glowing like chemicals as she raked her nails—now talons—down their sides. It burned.
(Y/N)
“I’ma take it down.”
(Background)
Woah-oh, da-da-da, down.”
(Y/N) looked at their mother, eyes dark and red, and (M/N) jerked in visceral fear at the pure power in that gaze. (Y/N) refused to stop growing. They wouldn’t let her stifle them.
Vines—no, not vines, giant weeds, resistant to all forms of herbicide, all curbing wouldn’t work on the, they would grow no matter what someone did—ran up over the building and grabbed (M/N), who gasped as she was pulled off (Y/N) into a restricting hold.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown.”
(Background)
“Woah-oh, da-da-da, down.”
(Y/N) glowed with green power, grinned, and curled their hand into a fist. The weeds tore (M/N) apart. Her screams were torn with her, broken apart like (Y/N)’s pleads for mercy had always been ignored. She would reform somewhere in Hell, but (Y/N) had taught her a lesson. She wasn’t strong enough to hurt them anymore. She was weak. Nothing. And if (Y/N) had their hands on an angelic weapon, she would have faced her second absolute death. That would teach her who had the power now.
One down—two to go.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown, I’ma take you out, you break down like, ‘What?’ ”
(Y/N) didn’t waste time and jumped onto the edge of the roof. Below them, Alastor was weaving between cars, skating across the streets as they crumbled beneath the force of Vox and (F/N)’s attacks. He had an exhilarated smile on his face, spinning on his staff when a giant cross, aflame, arced past him, and he laughed as it hit Vox instead and sent him sputtering away, cables lashing out for anyone in his proximity. (F/N) and Vox weren’t a team—not like (Y/N) and Alastor.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown, I’ma take you out and I ain’t gonna stop.”
(Y/N) raised their hands, calling on the earth they had fed with their love and blood in life. It answered.
(Y/N)
“Jeongsineul noko neol jitbalgo kareul saegyeonwa.”
As Alastor melted into shadow, reformed, and dodged cars thrown by Vox, he felt a raging fire behind him. His shadows rippled at the light, and Alastor spun his microphone, ready to lash out once more. (F/N) was an insolent little pest.
The earth split open around Alastor, briars rising and grabbing at (F/N), shredding cars and metal that Vox threw at Alastor. He was perfectly safe within its shield. His gaze rose to see (Y/N) standing on the rooftop, magic radiating off them—pure power.
(Y/N)
“You’ll be beggin’ and cryin’, all of you dyin’, never miss my shot.”
Vox’s wild gaze found them, too, and he growled, commands appearing on his screens. They were becoming a problem, and he would—Cars hit him and buried him in rubble as Alastor cackled with pride.
(Y/N)
“When your patterns start to show,
It makes the hatred wanna grow out of my veins.”
Behind Alastor, (F/N) was burning and cutting through the brambles, but the injury to his jaw had opened up to reveal half his skull, eyes wild with fury. The mask of the Man of God was torn away by the very child he had lorded the façade over.
A snarl echoed over Hell, and (Y/N) spun. They gritted their teeth as a giant mechanical shark zeroed in on them and swam through the air. As Vox dug his way free from the pile of cars Alastor had thrown on him, he grinned. His beloved shark was there to tear his pests apart.
(Y/N)
“I don’t think you’re ready for the takedown.”
(Y/N) jumped backwards, vines pulling them away the shark as it snapped at them.
(Y/N)
“Dangdanghage eodum ape dagaseo da mu neotteuryeo.”
Alastor saw them dodging, and his fatherly possessive instincts flared. He lunged for Vox, grabbed his cables, and ripped them. Vox roared, giant, spider-like legs stabbing at Alastor. Alastor spied tiny vines and stems hanging from the joints, smirked, and grabbed them.
(Y/N)
“Yeah, it’s a takedown.”
Vox’s new body broke apart, and Alastor slammed him into the ground. (Y/N) spied it, grinned, and grabbed onto the railing of a building. They swung overtop, landed on the roof, and faced off against the shark bearing down on them.
(Y/N)
“A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live, it’s so obvious.”
(Y/N) crouched, and the shark opened its mouth. (Y/N) jumped the moment it bit down, and it took out a piece of the building. In the air, (Y/N) pulled vines up, grabbed Shock.wav, and slammed it into the ground, metal warping from the force.
“No!” shouted Vox, furious and throwing Alastor from him.
Alastor pivoted and melted into shadows to chase after Vox.
(Y/N)
“I’ma gear up and take you down.”
(Background)
Woah-oh, da-da-da, down.”
“No!” shouted Vox, furious and throwing Alastor from him.
Alastor pivoted and melted into shadows to chase after Vox.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown.”
(Background)
“Woah-oh, da-da-da, down.”
(Y/N) felt the fire before it hit them, and they dropped to the ground, dodging as their father’s fury burned over the ground, turning their plants to ash. Shock.wav’s restraints broke, and it roared, launching into the air. It’s tail swung around and hit (Y/N), throwing them into a building. A shard of glass and metal slashed through their arm, and (Y/N) barely rolled tot eh side as a crucifix whipped through the place they had just occupied.
(Y/N)
“I’ma take it down (Watch me do it, yeah).”
(Background)
“Woah-oh, da-da-da, down.”
(F/N) floated above the, glowing with “holy” light as he looked down at (Y/N) with pure judgement. His light was eclipsed the moment he attempted to attack, a shadowy form grabbing him. Alastor had arrived, abandoning Vox to support (Y/N).
Alastor gripped (F/N) by the arms, tearing into his skin. He saw the gleaming cross at his throat, grinned, and tore into (F/N)’s chest. (F/N) roared with wrath, body flaring into fire. Alastor summoned his own flames, green overcoming gold.
“You are nothing but a stepping stone in their power,” scoffed Alastor. “You don’t deserve them.”
“And you do?! You are a demon sent to ruin them,” spat (F/N).
Alastor knew that statement to be true. “I am." But at least he would never harm (Y/N). He grinned wider and laughed as he tore the cross from (F/N)’s chest. In an instant, his powers faltered. Alastor had him in his grasp.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown
(Background)
“Ooh,
Woah-oh, da-da-da, down (Ooh).”
(Y/N) saw Alastor handling (F/N) when their body felt static electricity ripple around them. They tossed themself upwards, skirt swirling around them as they danced through the air. Vox smashed into where they had stood a moment before, eyes glitching as he looked up at them. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes and looked down at Vox as their power collected around them. The branches extended further, antler-like. The glowing patterns on their arms brightened.
(Y/N)
“Oh, you’re the master of illusion,
Nareul sogiryeo haji ma.”
They spread their arms wide, and the cameras all around the Entertainment District focused on them, the picture displayed Hell-wide.
(Y/N)
“Look at all the masses that you’re foolin’.”
Every one of Vox’s followers was watching. (Y/N) had helped make some of them follow him. But no more. No more control. (Y/N) lived to be free.
(Y/N)
“But they’ll turn on you soon—”
Indeed, as they spoke and raised their chin, their demonic form coming to life around them, people were watching. They were whispering. They were listening. And Vox could feel his polling drop as people took in (Y/N)’s words easily.
(Y/N)
“—so how?
How can you sleep or live with yourself?”
Vox was furious. They did nothing but speak, but people were listening. He was supposed to have the power, and a single insolent child was looking down on him.
(Y/N) didn’t falter at the wrath and envy in his eyes. They were being honest, and if that meant he was angered, then so fucking be it. (Y/N) was not there to be kind to evil such as him—they were there to defeat it.
(Y/N)
“A broken soul trapped in the nastiest shell.”
Vines crept up around the building, obscuring every window, turning the edifice of glass and metal and electricity into a pillar of pure nature where (Y/N) ruled.
Vox sparked with power, and Shock.wav roared as it swam back towards Vox and (Y/N).
(Y/N)
“Yeonghon eomneun ni moksumeul kkeuneureo and watch you.”
They grinned easily as Shock.wav and Vox lunged at the same moment.
(Y/N)
“You can try, but you can’t hide.”
The building exploded into color as flowers bloomed, briars grew, and vines lashed out. It was a storm of life and power, magic bubbling to the surface as (Y/N) combatted the pinnacle of machinery that Shock.wav was. It tore through plants, but with a flick of their wrist, its jaw was tied shut, and they bent the metal so forcefully that Shock.wav howled.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown, I’ma take you out, you break down like, ‘What?’
It’s a takedown, I’ma take you out and I ain’t gonna stop.”
Alastor laughed at Vox’s expression, throwing (F/N)’s body to the side. Without his cross, (F/N)’s power was nothing. Alastor’s shadows rose, ready to rip (F/N) apart. (F/N) narrowed his eyes, flicked his wrist, and gold and blue flames enveloped him. He disappeared.
Alastor clicked his tongue. Coward. Well, he would enjoy hunting him down later.
(Y/N)
“I’m cut you open, lose control, then rip out your heart,
You’ll be beggin’ and cryin’, all of you dyin’.”
Vox’s cables grabbed them, electrocuting them as he slammed them into a building. (Y/N)’s body jerked, but they grabbed the cables and tore them off their body. They flipped back over as Vox flew into the air, and they grinned.
(Y/N)
“I’ma gear up and take you down.”
(Background)
“Woah-oh, da-da-da, down (La-la-la).”
Vox’s expression faltered at the pleased expression. Alastor’s shadows slammed into Vox, throwing him into the ground. (Y/N) stood, shaking the electricity off.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown.”
(Background)
“Woah-oh, da-da-da, down (Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah).”
Vox called Shock.wav forward, and Shock.wav bent its precious fins as it forced its way out of (Y/N)’s hold. It lunged and snapped at (Y/N), and shadows blocked it while simultaneously pulling (Y/N) to safety.
(Y/N)
“I’ma take it down.”
(Background)
“Woah-oh, da-da-da, down (Ooh).”
(Y/N) looked at Alastor, and he grinned back at them. His antlers were extended fully, just as (Y/N)’s roses had grown antler-like branches. The pair looked back at Vox and raised their arms.
(Y/N)
“It’s a takedown.”
(Background)
“Ooh.”
Shadows and vines climbed upwards, twining together into a mass of natural magic. Vox’s eyes widened, and he summoned all the electricity he could as Shock.wav circled above to dive into the hunt again.
(Background)
Woah-oh, da-da-da, down (Watch me do it, yeah).”
The shadow-vines slashed down at Vox and Shock.wav, grabbing and tearing at them. Vox’s newer limbs were torn away to reveal his smaller form. Shock.wav was thrown into a building, breaking its foundations. The building crumbled, burying Shock.wav beneath its debris.
Vox tried to lung, cables out, bringing electricity down on the entire area, but (Y/N) raised their right hand while Alastor raised his left, cane in hand, and they grinned. The shadow-vines grabbed Vox and threw him so hard that he hit V Tower. The beautiful flowers (Y/N) had created over the insignia turned to brambles, cutting into Vox and slamming him into the ground.
Nature of the Human Soul (Book 2) Chapter Seventeen
Found Family! Hazbin Hotel and Teen! Reader
Father Figure! Alastor and Teen! Reader
Chapter Seventeen: Sinning
Summary: (Y/N) remembers.
Chapter Warnings: Abuse, religious abuse, misgendering, referenced predatory man, gore
One year ago, Earth. New Orleans, Louisiana…
A seventeen-year-old child sat at the edge of a bayou. They wore a white dress, simple and pure. Their hair drifted in the breeze, coming undone from the loose updo they had. They twirled a flower between their fingers. Behind them, up the hill, was their home. They didn’t want to return for dinner yet. Dinner meant prayers for their salvation and the name that made their skin itch and their discipline. (Y/N)—they allowed themself the privacy of that name—looked down at their hands guiltily. They should be grateful to their parents. And they were. Of course they were. (Y/N)’s parents knew best. (Y/N) was a sinner, and they were protecting them.
And that made (Y/N)’s shame worse. They were avoiding the discipline that they needed to be better. They were hiding in the garden, looking across the bayou at the world they knew—they had been told so many times it was ingrained in them—would corrupt them. A deer looked back. (Y/N) smiled at it, and the deer tilted its head. At least nature was safe. It didn’t corrupt. It existed, and (Y/N) could take refuge in it.
They shook their head. No, not refuge. Their parents were helping them. Nature was just…calm. That was it. (Y/N) enjoyed its purity. They swallowed and stood. They should return to the house. They were being tempted by the bad thoughts again, the doubts the Devil instilled in them against their parents. (Y/N) put their hand to the cross necklace around their neck.
Our Father who art in Heaven, give me the strength to defeat evil.
(Y/N) turned and walked back up the hill to their house. Their hands trailed along the flower bushes as they went. The roses were blooming nicely that year. (Y/N) tended to them, the herbs, the fruit trees, and every other aspect of the garden with complete devotion. At least (Y/N) was not so evil that the very Earth was infected by them. That would destroy (Y/N).
They saw a rosebush by the patio steps wilting, and they frowned. That wouldn’t do. (Y/N) carefully filled up a watering can and let the makeshift rain fall over the flowers.
“Come on, little ones,” murmured (Y/N). “Live—”
“So it’s decided?”
(Y/N) looked up. Their mother’s voice drifted from within.
“Yes,” said their father’s voice. “He’s asked for h̷͉̓ͅé̸͉̋r̸̲͒ hand.”
(Y/N) went still, and the watering can fell from their hands, splashing water over the ground. What?
“Are you sure ŝ̴̫̲̑h̷̻̤̍̂ȩ̸̋̐ͅ is ready?” asked (M/N). “S̷̬̚h̸͓̾̑è̵̫́ is not cleansed enough.”
“Nonsense,” said (F/N). “S̷̬̚h̸͓̾̑è̵̫́ is everything we could want. S̷̬̚h̸͓̾̑è̵̫́ is pure and obedient. And he will continue h̷͉̓ͅé̸͉̋r̸̲͒ salvation. He is a good man and wants to save h̷͉̓ͅé̸͉̋r̸̲͒.”
(M/N) let out a sound of relief. “Oh, good. I do so worry for h̷͉̓ͅé̸͉̋r̸̲͒. S̷̬̚h̸͓̾̑è̵̫́ is drawn to sin like Eve. I’m glad he will protect h̷͉̓ͅé̸͉̋r̸̲͒. But what about h̷͉̓ͅé̸͉̋r̸̲͒? S̷̬̚h̸͓̾̑è̵̫́ is broken and will not accept his hand, even if it will help save h̷͉̓ͅé̸͉̋r̸̲͒.”
“It does not matter what ŝ̴̫̲̑h̷̻̤̍̂ȩ̸̋̐ͅ thinks,” said (F/N). “Whether ŝ̴̫̲̑h̷̻̤̍̂ȩ̸̋̐ͅ understands why this is necessary or not, we do. It is time for h̷͉̓ͅé̸͉̋r̸̲͒ to become a w̵̥̒i̸̠̜̅f̸̥̥͑ë̷̯͝ and serve God as ẇ̸͓̝̌o̸͎̹̊̊m̵̜̳̂̂è̸̖n̸̗͎͒ must. We know best.”
(Y/N) swallowed hard. Their hands trembled. Marriage? Becoming a wife? And what came next was undoubtedly mother. They felt sick to their stomach. They were only seventeen. They didn’t want that. They had always been good and never been tempted by a man, but they thought that would be the end, that they would never be asked to do this. The idea of marriage, of what that would mean, of being with someone was just…wrong to (Y/N).
Who is it? (Y/N) ran through all the members of the church, trying to figure out which man—they froze. It was undoubtedly one of the only single men left, the one who watched them during the church choir with eyes that made (Y/N)’s skin crawl in fear. No, no, no. I-I can’t, not him, no, no, no.
Their fingers slipped, and the thorns pricked their fingers. They drew them back, blood beading at the tip of their finger. Blood, just like that which their parents drew each evening with the belt when (Y/N) had been particularly sinful. How often would their husband cleanse them? How often would he expect the bedroom? How often would they have to be a proper w̵̥̒i̸̠̜̅f̸̥̥͑ë̷̯͝?
(Y/N) had to escape the Ggarden.
“-̵̖̲͒-̸͎͖͆̀-̵͈̇͒-̵̨̀̕-̶͇̕ͅ?” said their mother’s voice, the name pricking at them as she opened the front door. “Ah, there you are.”
“Yes, Mother?” said (Y/N), polite as ever. They were always polite. Always poised. Perfect. A sinner on the inside, an apple with the reddest skin rotting from the inside out.
“We need to speak with you,” said (F/N), standing behind his wife.
“Of course, Father,” said (Y/N), fingers twitching.
They walked up the stairs of the patio, fear crawling into them with each step. The front door shut behind them, and (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to the windows and the fence lining the edge of the garden. The leaves of the trees rustled in the wind. Freedom, they seemed to whisper.
“We have wonderful news for you,” said (M/N), sitting down in the living room.
(Y/N) stood before her, hands laced behind their back. The crucifix on the wall stared down at them, the eyes of Christ following (Y/N). They lowered their gaze. “You do?” they murmured.
“You have finally been chosen to fulfill God’s role for ẇ̸͓̝̌o̸͎̹̊̊m̵̜̳̂̂è̸̖n̸̗͎͒,” said (M/N), smiling. “M̵̯͓̊r̶͇͊ͅ.̷̨̍̊ ̷͎̅-̸̫͛̈́-̵̩͔̈́-̶̘̜̎-̶̲͔̒-̵̀̈͜-̴̨̲͛-̴͈͕͊͐ has asked for your hand in marriage.”
It was exactly who (Y/N) had suspected. Their fingers shook, and (Y/N) laced their hands tightly to prevent the weakness from showing. “I—I do not feel ready, Mother. I am not…clean enough.” Perhaps their parents would decide they were not worthy enough for such a role. Then they would be left alone again.
“Of course you aren’t,” said (F/N) from behind (Y/N). “But that is precisely why we have accepted M̵̯͓̊r̶͇͊ͅ.̷̨̍̊ ̷͎̅-̸̫͛̈́-̵̩͔̈́-̶̘̜̎-̶̲͔̒-̵̀̈͜-̴̨̲͛-̴͈͕͊͐’s offer.” A chill ran down (Y/N)’s spine. “By fulfilling God’s design, you will be further saved.”
“But I don’t want to marry him,” said (Y/N), voice tinged with desperation. “Please. I won’t be a good enough—” the word caught in their throat, and they swallowed “—I won’t be good enough.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want,” said (F/N) coldly. “We know best. You know that.”
(Y/N)’s world was tilting. The sun kept shining, their garden was rustling with anxious energy, and (Y/N)’s fingers twitched. “I-I know, but, please, don’t make me do this. I can’t—I’m not ready—Please, Father.”
“It is decided,” said (F/N), and (M/N) nodded in approval. “But I can see that you do not understand yet.” (Y/N)’s skin felt cold, tiny pricks running up and down their arms at his tone. “Kneel.”
(Y/N) took a step back. No—I didn’t—I didn’t do anything wrong—I asked to be left alone—I was obeying, I’m being good, I just can’t marry—
“Kneel and repent for trying to disobey the will of God,” said (F/N).
(Y/N) was frozen, a fawn before a gun that they knew was about to fire.
“Kneel, child, and pray for your salvation,” said (M/N), rising from the couch.
No, whispered (Y/N)’s mind and the wind in the trees. They turned and bolted for the door, throwing themself to temptation and their sinful nature.
“Stop them!” shouted (F/N).
(M/N) lunged, grabbing (Y/N)’s arms. Her nails cut into their arms, and (Y/N) cried out, trying to twist away. (M/N) shoved them to their knees, and (Y/N) could only blame their sinful instincts for their next movement. (Y/N) shoved (M/N) away, slapping at her in desperation. (M/N) jerked back, eyes wide. (Y/N) had never struck them in return.
“Abomination,” hissed (M/N) as (Y/N) scrambled back, trying to stand.
They shook their head, trembling like a fawn. “N-No, I just—I’m sorry—I was frightened—”
(Y/N)’s face snapped to the side as their father’s rosary hit them, and they cried out, back hitting the wall.
“You are filthy with sin,” said their father, gaze so dark it was like the shadows themselves were swallowing him.
Only the golden rosary in his hand held any light. (Y/N) saw the drip of something red on the cross. They touched their face, and they felt a sting. They stared at their fingers. They were bleeding.
“You dare strike your saviors?!” said (F/N). “We were cursed with you, and we carried the burden of your sin for you, and you turn on us when we come so close to saving you?!”
“Please,” said (Y/N), pushing themself to their feet. “Please, mercy—Let me stay here—I’ll accept any punishment—Don’t sell me off—Please, please—”
“Mercy?” said (M/N), her gaze as cold as (F/N)’s. “You ask for mercy? No. We have been merciful your entire life by granting you a home and our love, and you reject salvation at every turn.”
“We have tried to save you, tried for seventeen long years, but perhaps there is only one way to save you,” said (F/N).
(Y/N) stepped back, and the crucible above them fell, hitting the ground. (Y/N) feared it would burn if they touched it. “Please, Father—”
“If you cannot be trusted on Earth…then perhaps God will grant you absolution if you submit to salvation,” said (F/N). He reached back into the kitchen and picked up a knife.
(Y/N)’s eyes widened.
“Allow your blood to cleanse you,” said (F/N), stepping forward.
(Y/N) bolted as the hunters approached, and (M/N) grabbed them, throwing them to the ground before they could grab the knob of the front door. (Y/N) screamed, and (M/N) held them down. (F/N) loomed over them.
“This is your salvation,” said (F/N).
“Mercy—!”
(F/N) struck down, and (Y/N)’s scream pierced the air as the knife sunk into their skin. Blood instantly welled up, red as the roses of the garden. Pain exploded through their nerves, and (Y/N) sobbed.
(F/N) twisted the knife, (M/N) held their body down, and (Y/N) screamed, writhing against them, hands scrabbling to push (F/N) back.
“Let your sins be washed away by submission,” said (F/N). “Now pray. Ask God to accept this offering. Let your soul be saved as God intended.”
(Y/N)’s entire world tilted. This was what God desired for them? Was the blood they shed every evening not enough? Were the prayers unheard? Why did no one listen? They had asked to be saved so many times. And now death was their only reward, and they sobbed as they realized that they had no real shame or guilt in them. Their tongue wasn’t able to move. They couldn’t pray. (Y/N) couldn’t ask God for salvation. They were damned.
(Y/N) could only blearily hope for a single moment of peace before they burned for all eternity. (F/N)’s hands left the knife, and he put his hands together to pray over them. (M/N)’s murmurs joined him, and the edges of (Y/N)’s vision turned black as they lay below their parents and the endless prayers for their salvation, the murmurs of their sins, the words that clogged their mind like smoke—they all blurred together. (Y/N) would have no peace before or after their death
It’s not fair.
(Y/N) wrenched the knife from their stomach and struck. (M/N) howled in pain as it sunk into her arm, and she shoved away from (Y/N), clutching at her arm. (Y/N) rolled over, body thrumming with adrenaline despite trembling like a leaf, grabbed the knife, and pulled it up (M/N)’s arm, slashing through sinew and muscle until it left her body. Their mother’s blood dripped down their fingers from the knife, but nothing registered. (Y/N) struck down, burying the knife in (M/N)’s chest where her neck met her dress, right where the cross necklace hung at her throat. Blood bubbled up, and (M/N)’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, helpless, before she went still.
Finally, her prayers went silent.
(Y/N) stared down, blood dripping from the knife, their mother’s and their blood mixing on the blade, staining their fingers. Their dress was stained crimson.
“Monster,” said (F/N) in horror and disgust. “You are a monster.”
(Y/N) turned on him, eyes wide with the weight of their actions and the strange thrum of something running through their veins. Wrath, they realized. Power. All that they denied themself.
(F/N)’s rosary whipped down and struck (Y/N). They stumbled back, and (F/N) grabbed them, throwing them down. He grabbed the fallen crucifix and struck (Y/N) with it. It bruised their chest over their heart, edges catching on the skin and drawing blood. Their heart hurt. Another strike, and (Y/N)'s head spun from the force. Their bloody fingers slid around the handle of the knife.
“You are an abomination! You will burn for all eternity! You are a demon on Earth!” shouted (F/N), striking them over and over—chest, sides, arms, everywhere he could hurt them. “You are a burden, unworthy, unclean—”
(Y/N) grabbed the knife with all their strength and stabbed upwards. The knife went through (F/N)’s jaw, embedding upwards into his brain. His tongue sliced open, and his censures turned to bloody babbling. His eyes went wide, and he coughed, blood sliding down the blade. (F/N) fell back, body limp. He hit the ground, dead, crucifix still clutched in his outstretched hand.
(Y/N) stared at the ceiling. The knife fell from their hand. Their body buzzed as their hands and legs began to numb. Outside. The world whispered as a breeze wafted into the room, the smells of the bayou and their garden circling around them, tainted with the perfume of blood. Outside.
(Y/N) forced themself to sit up. A moment of peace. A moment outside the Graden. A moment of freedom. (Y/N) stood on shaking legs. The bodies of their parents stared up at them, blood staining the entirety of their world. Their mother’s throat barely held her head to her body. Their father’s face was torn open by the knife, jaw and preachers tongue pierced and never to speak again. (Y/N) limped forward, scarlet stained dress trailing with them. They left their parents behind. They opened the front door.
The warm sunshine, the bayou, and their garden greeted them, welcoming them to the world. The world that was blurring, darkening, spinning away from them. But they could see the edge of the garden, the apple trees hanging over the gate. They stepped forward.
(Y/N) stumbled and clutched the wound, trying to hold it closed as the family’s blood mixed into a single stain of sin. It didn’t matter, though. The ordeal was finished, and they were finished. (Y/N) stepped forward and held onto the railing of the patio. They needed to leave the house. They despised it. They always had. It was no home.
(Y/N) had to make it out of the garden. Just once. Just once. They stumbled, clutching the railing as their dress clung to their skin with blood. Come on, just once. (Y/N) took another step, and their legs gave out. They collapsed.
They fell into the rosebushes they had so lovingly grown. The thorns betrayed them and pricked their skin. (Y/N) had no more strength to even cry out, and the pain barely registered over all the other wounds. It didn’t matter at all what they suffered on Earth. They were going to Hell. They would be in pain for all eternity. (Y/N) lay among the briars and petals, staring up at the bright sun above them as their vision turned black. They had never made it to freedom.
Summary: Vox reaches the pinnacle of his power, and Alastor twists it around.
Charlie and Emily stared up as the Might of Lilith glowed with bright white power. The light illuminated the edges of Vox’s suit and body, turning him into a weapon, sharp and angular. He grinned, the expression of a shark written into the fabric of his very being. They were swimming in his ocean, and he had everything under his control.
A cable whipped out and grabbed Emily. She cried out, and Charlie lunged to grab her, but Vox dragged her away before Charlie could do a thing. Emily strained against the cables, and Vox cackled.
“Look at you, leading your friends into disaster yet again!” crowd Vox, gloating at Charlie’s desperate worry. He tossed Emily into a chair and restrained her there. “You really are bad at this.” The glow of his eyes cast red light onto Charlie as she backed up. “You really are a pale imitation of your mother, and she would be disgusted at the weak, pitiful failure you’ve become.”
Tears welled in Charlie’s eyes, and she looked down. Was she truly such a failure? She felt like one. All of her plans were falling apart. Her friends were gone. She was alone.
“Say it, Charlie,” jeered Vox. A drone dropped down next to her. “Look into the camera and tell everyone out there that you lost, and I’m the most powerful sinner in Hell!” He grinned. “Not Lilith, not Alator, not the Vees. Me!” He was what mattered, more than anything and anyone else. He deserved the power, and he had taken it as he deserved.
“Never!” snapped Charlie. She might be defeated and exhausted and grieving, but she refused to give Vox the satisfaction of giving in to his demands. Furthermore, she fundamentally believed in her friends. They still had a chance. She had to believe that. Otherwise…
A familiar, staticky laugh broke the tense moment. “Oh, the drama!” Alastor spun himself around in his chair and grinned at the stage where Vox loomed over Charlie. He grinned. “You know what? Maybe you should say it, Charlie.” He crossed one leg over the other. “Stroke my friend’s ego, he needs it.” He chuckled.
“What?” breathed Charlie, trailing off. She was confused. Alastor hated Vox. “Alastor, why…?”
On his part, Vox was staring, absolutely dumbfounded. That was the last thing he ever thought Alastor would say. And, honestly? Vox really wanted him to keep going. He was elated.
“Ah-ah-ah,” drawled Alastor, chipper as ever. “Come on, Charlie. Do me this one simple favor.” He grinned, and a green glow pulsed outwards.
Charlie’s eyes widened, and her right arm began to glow with green magic. Her deal with Alastor had been cashed. “No, don’t make me!”
Alastor just grinned wider. “Go on, tell everyone he’s the strongest.”
Charlie had no choice. She knew it. She swallowed.
Vox floated eagerly above her, electric with the amount of power he had. Multiple cameras were rolling, all capturing his moment of victory. The Princess of Hell was going to declare him powerful. The Might of Lilith would slice through Heaven and give him dominion over almost all of Creation. Alastor’s pet was his to command. Alastor was even admitting he was the strongest.
Charlie let out a breath. “Vox is the strongest sinner in Hell.” Her voice rang out, tired and defeated.
Cheers answered the echo of her failure. Across Hell, sinners roared with laughter and applause at her humiliation and Vox’s victory. He cackled and rose higher into the air, displaying her face across the entirety of Hell. Electricity coursed through him, and his eyes widened as pure magic ran through his body. He laughed wildly. Vox was powerful. Truly and completely.
“Oh, yeah!” He crowed, drunk on the power and magic.
Vox glitched, and his entire form shifted, giving over to the power in him and accommodating it. His hypnotic eye became an entire panel, and his right eye multiplied into two, both snakelike slits. He glowed with blue light, and he cackled, each laugh buzzing like TV static.
“Look, Princess, Hell’s finally listening to you,” said Vox, mouth wide and ready to swallow Hell whole. He cackled.
Underneath the maniacal laughter, a chain shattered. It registered to no one but the one leashed by it and the one who held the lead. In a single moment, a few simple words broke it apart like snapping a twig.
Vox landed on the stage, and his cables connected to the Might of Lilith, and he grinned as it powered up. Total control—that was what he had. Soon Heaven would be added to his pond and his control. Charlie fell to her knees and looked down at the ground. Even if her friends were still fighting, she had failed them. She had failed. She always failed. Vox grinned at her expression and circled Charlie like the shark he was, ready to feast on the blood in the water and add insult to injury.
“Oh, Charlie, you have no idea what you’ve done for me,” crooned Vox. He strolled around her. “All I can say is thank you for sucking so much at everything you try to do.” He chuckled in amusement at how much she fundamentally sucked. “Just…thank you.” Derisively, he put his hands on her shoulders.
Green light and radio-staticky laughter filled the air. Vox and Charlie’s heads both jerked up. Everyone stared at Alastor as his magic swirled up around him, and he stood from the chair, cables burning away. Blue handcuffs appeared on his wrists, and he grinned.
“You absolute idiot!”
Alastor guffawed and tore the chains apart.
(Y/N) heard the laughter, and their fingers twitched. The flowers around them turned to roses. Radio static lowed in the air, and it was familiar. Familiar like their parents’ words, but it didn’t echo like a drum in their mind. It felt like the sounds of the bayou. Their safe place. (Y/N) straightened. Their safe place. Why was it their safe place, safe was home, where was home—
Alastor grinned and advanced on the stage. His deal—his deals—were null and void. Alastor had everything he needed to finally tear the world apart as he desired. His grin sharpened. His first order of business was to tear Vox, (F/N), and (M/N) apart, though. It was time to relish the power.
“The fuck is going on?” Vox stared at Alastor, demonic form’s face reverting in confusion. “Get back in your chair!”
Alastor cackled and summoned his staff. He spun it and pointed at Vox. “You swore not to lay your hands on Charlie—” he melted into the shadows and reformed in front of Vox “—but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His pupils spun into dials before he leaned back. “You fucking creep.” He turned away and looked over his shoulder in pure disgust at Vox. “You’re always doing that, and I hate it.” He gritted his teeth, and his gaze fell on (Y/N) in the crowd, eyes wide as they watched him. He kept touching them, hurting them, clawing at them, cradling and fawning to insult Alastor. He despised it.
“What, this?” Vox mimed patting Charlie’s shoulders. “This?” He glared at Alastor. “This doesn’t count. I didn’t hurt her.”
“I didn’t say not to hurt you, you moron,” scoffed Alastor. “I said you’re not to lay your hands on her, and you did! You pathetic amateur.”
“Fucking wordplay?” scoffed Vox incredulously (while Charlie made the intelligent decision to leave the stage). “You tricked me with a fucking technicality? Seriously?!”
“It worked, didn’t it?” smirked Alastor. He danced away. “Baby, I’m a demon in Hell. It’s kind of our thing.” He tutted and sighed in mock disappointment at how boring Vox was. “You’re nothing if not predictable.”
Vox’s entire body glitched. “Fuck you! It doesn’t matter that you’re free—” he grinned widely “—I still have the one thing that matters to you.”
Alastor’s eyes narrowed, and shadows rippled the moment cables reached out and tore (Y/N) from the crowd.
“Vox, they’re ours!” snapped (F/N), standing.
Vox laughed, the cracks in his calm façade growing wider. “No, they’re mine.” He suspended (Y/N) in front of him, and the red light of his eyes bore into them. “You want them, Alastor?!”
Alastor’s shadows rose from the ground as the cables nicked (Y/N)’s skin and drew blood. He was going to tear Vox apart. His grin widened with eagerness.
“Then take them.” Vox grinned maniacally
Vox’s gaze bore into (Y/N), and (Y/N) felt even the memories of their parents slipping from them. They were falling asleep again, everything floating away, all that was left was the desire to obey. (Y/N)’s fingers went slack where they were fighting Vox’s cables. Their flowers wilted. In a single moment, their entire mind became a blank slate into which Vox could carve.
“Kill Alastor.”
He let go of them, but (Y/N) never hit the stage. Vines whipped up from the ground and caught them before launching them towards Alastor. He gritted his teeth and jumped back. His shadows lashed out, grabbing for (Y/N). They dropped, rolled, and evaded, thorns stabbing into any shadow that tried to reach them.
Vox cackled as he saw Alastor go on the defensive. “What’s the matter, Alastor? I thought there weren’t such things as friends. Come on, tear them apart if you’re so powerful!”
Alastor slammed his staff into the ground, and green flames raced towards (Y/N). They turned their vines to ash, and (Y/N) fell, hitting a table and smashing it. Alastor’s eyes narrowed, and he extinguished the flames before they could truly burn (Y/N). Shadows rose and bound them. He had to keep them restrained until Vox’s damn control was broken. Thorns and briars broke from (Y/N)’s skin, scattering blood to the wind and shredding the shadows holding them.
“Look at that!” crowed Vox. “You taught them so well that they’re everything we could want.”
(Y/N) dropped to the ground and stumbled as they heard the words. Their head spun, but the orders were lodged in their mind. They curled their hands into claw-like formations. They pressed the heels of their hands together before slamming their hands together like jaws. A giant Venus Flytrap exploded from the ground below Alastor, and Alastor morphed away in shadows to avoid the jaws that swallowed several sinners whole. That was a fun trick (Y/N) had learned. It reminded him of his demon form. During the fight with Vox, Velvette, and Valentino in the streets, he hadn’t had time to analyze their fighting. It was definitely much improved than when the Exorcists came.
Alastor narrowed his eyes. He was proud that (Y/N)’s strength was growing, but it was quite frustrating when he was trying not to kill them. And he couldn’t kill them. Sentiment was in his heart like thorns lodged in a palm. They were his fawn.
“Come on, (Y/N)! Give him some more! He can take it,” said Vox, laughing as the pairs fight continued and took them across the yard. Overlords and sinners alike cleared out of the way, no one wanting to be part of the battle beginning between Alastor and Vox, even through a proxy. Tables and chairs smashed, every bouquet that Alastor passed turned into another weapon, and the ground he stood on broke apart with the force of (Y/N)’s magic. “Be good and kill him. Remember, we know best.”
(Y/N) stumbled and didn’t block the next shadow Alastor sent at them. It tore through them, and (Y/N) was knocked through several tables and chairs until they hit the side of the stage. Alastor’s grip on his staff tightened. Their eyes remained blank as ever, no smile or frown on their expression, but they had faltered.
“Let’s finish this!” declared Vox. “Use all your power to tear him apart.”
(Y/N) remained still. They stared down at their hands, bleeding. Their fingers shook as the blood dripped between their fingers. They looked down. Their side was bleeding. They couldn’t hold the wound together, and (Y/N) stumbled as the world tilted.
Fawn… Alastor took an instinctive step forward, his shadow darting towards them catch their fawn, but barbed vines rose into the air, ready to strike him. Vox’s power was still echoing in their mind. “(Y/N),” said Alastor. He had only his voice to use. But that was his most powerful weapon. (Y/N)’s gaze flicked to him as the vines hovered to face the shadows. “Why are you in Hell?”
(Y/N) opened their mouth, tongue fuzzy and numb. They were supposed to be fighting him, not talking, but their mind was screaming. They were underwater. The radio static cut through the fog. “I killed…my parents.”
Alastor’s grin widened. After seeing who their parents were, he was even prouder of that decision. “Why?”
“Because I—” I’m a sinner. I was born unclean. I am another Eve, tempted and giving in, broken from the start. The words rang awkwardly, echoing in Vox, (F/N), and (M/N)’s voices rather than their own. “I—” T̴͔̜̈́̊h̸͉͆ḛ̸̢̋ŷ̸̼ ̵̩̈ḩ̷͔͐̒ǘ̶̞͊ṛ̴͋̈ṱ̷͈̈ ̴̳̐͋m̷̼̑e̵̙͕̾̀.̴͔̲̍
“Don’t listen to him!” growled Vox, rising into the air. “You are mine! I am your god, and you will destroy him! Now!”
(Y/N)’s entire body felt on edge, but their hands rose all the same, vines erupting from the ground from every direction, ready to crash down on Alastor. The world was blurry, words unclear, and only Vox’s words struck true.
“You see, Alastor?! Everything is destined to be mine! I am a god!”
Alastor summoned his flames and burnt through the flames. As (Y/N) regenerated them, though, the fire spread, singing their skin. Alastor narrowed his eyes and switched to his shadows, grabbing for (Y/N). They raised their hands, creating razor-sharp vines that cut into their own skin as well as the shadows that tried to restrain them. The ground ripped upwards with the force of their magic. Blood dripped down their injured side, staining their dress and fingers.
Summary: Vox puts together an event, Alastor tests limits, and (Y/N) gets confused.
(Y/N) sat and stared out at the room. Around them, Voxtek employees were bustling to set up a soiree complete with tables, seating arrangements, and, of course, a stage for Vox. (Y/N) had been ordered asked to wait, and they were. They had already been dressed up in a tea-length blue dress with an asymmetrical collar and buttons. (Y/N) looked down at the dress. The color wasn’t what they would choose—
It didn’t matter. Vox chose it. Their parents chose it. (Y/N) obeyed.
“Of course he was self-absorbed and put you in that sort of fashion,” said Alastor, rolling towards them.
(Y/N) looked up at Alastor—How do I know that name?—and faltered. “I—”
“Then again, maybe it was your parents’ decision. They seem like the conservative type,” continued Alastor. He leaned forward. “Are you sure you want what they want?”
(Y/N) frowned. “I want—” Their head throbbed. I want to obey. The words wanted to come out, but something tasted wrong. “I want to go home.” They were surprised at the words, and they blinked. They felt like they were waking up, on the edge between sleep and reality.
Alastor’s grin widened. “A-ha.” So the control wasn’t absolute. Somewhere deep within (Y/N)’s mind, their soul was fighting back. “Interesting. So home isn’t with your parents?”
(Y/N)’s head hurt again, something was pulling them asleep, and they felt strained—like a wire stretched taut and ready to snape. “It is—We’re just not—I—” Where is home? They could picture their house on Earth, the bayou nearby, the forest, the animals, but the four walls didn’t create home. “—Home is New Orleans.” The words sounded right but felt rotten like fruit gone bad.
Alastor paused for a moment. He hadn’t known that. “Why are you in Hell?” he pressed, searching for the cracks in whatever narrative Vox and their parents had placed in their empty mind.
“I’m—” Red flowers popped up around them, roses unfurling their petals “—I’m unclean.”
Alastor remembered similar words being thrown at him due to his parentage. “Unclean?” Static jerked through his words, and (Y/N) flinched.
“I don’t act like I should,” said (Y/N), voice small. “I was born wrong. I sin too easily.”
A screech of static buzzed. Once again, Alastor categorized all the ways he would torture (Y/N)’s parents once he had all his power back.
“How did you die, (Y/N)?”
(Y/N) jerked, and Alastor watched as the lovely bouquets set around the room turned to Flytraps and cacti and thorns in alarm. “I was—stabbed.” Their eyes darted around the room, and their hand drifted to their side. “I—”
“What is going on here?”
(F/N) appeared behind Alastor, and he glared at (Y/N). Instantly, the flowers wilted around them, and (Y/N) stepped back.
“Nothing,” they said, voice small.
(F/N)’s dark gaze moved from (Y/N) to Alastor. “Don’t infect my child with your heathen ways, demon.”
Alastor’s grin was wide and threatening when he responded. “The only heathen ways I’d be worried about are your own and the consequences of them.”
(F/N) could feel the shadows swirling and the static buzzing. He grabbed (Y/N) by the arm and dragged them off fearfully. (Y/N) looked back at Alastor, searching his gaze to try to understand his words and the strange feeling in their chest.
l
“Alright, everyone, here’s the plan,” said Vaggie, looking at the hotel team grimly. “Charlie and I will go to Vox’s party as guests. Baxter, Niffty, Husk, and Cherri, you’ll sneak into Voxtek while everyone’s distracted using Baxter’s keycard.”
“Well, there goes my benefits,” said Baxter.
“You already agreed to risk your life,” said Cherri.
Vaggie ignored them. “Once inside, Cherri and Husk, you two split off and find Angel and (Y/N).”
“And then, once you find them, break the Vees’ mind control with the power of friendship—!” Charlie coughed “—or splash them with water or something.”
“And if that doesn’t work, just knock their ass out and drag them back,” said Vaggie.
Cherri and Husk grimaced. (Y/N) would put up one hell of a fight under the mind control.
“We can figure out the rest once they’re safe,” said Vaggie. “Baxter and Niffty, find the source of Vox’s signal and hijack it. Be careful, though, because once Vox is onto you, he’ll respond quickly. Niffty, you’re on security duty. This is our only chance, so guard Baxter with your life.”
Niffty grinned and drew a knife all too eagerly. “I can do that.”
“Once Baxter’s ready, Pentious will take over the broadcast, showing all of Hell that redemption is possible,” explained Vaggie. “Emily, that’s when you make your entrance, and with Charlie by your side in a show of unity between realms, everyone will see that fighting isn’t the answer…this time.”
“Yeah!” said Charlie excitedly.
“What about the giant gun?” questioned Cherri.
“I’m glad you asked,” said Vaggie. “While everyone’s focused on Charlie and Emily, I’m going to destroy the weapon.”
“How are you going to do that?” said Husk.
“I’ll figure it out!” Vaggie was full of spite. She’d figure it out. She took a breath. “Alright, people. Let’s do this.”
l
Evening began to fall on the Pentagram. Heaven glowed bright above, and eyes never strayed far from it as the twenty-four hour countdown continued to tick towards zero. At V Tower, a large party had been set up. Every table had flowers collected on it—blue, only Vox’s color—and the stage was ready with a large screen for Vox to broadcast his victory. Every Overlord was present at the event and dressed to the nines for the occasion. Well, all except for Rosie. She had her suspicious about the event. However, the rest were there. Whether or not they supported Vox didn’t matter, they all wanted to keep an eye on the events.
And when Charlie Morningstar entered with her girlfriend, Vaggie, all eyes went to her. This was a development. Charlie grimaced slightly at all the eyes, and Vaggie squeezed her hand encouragingly while speaking under her breath to the comms.
“Everyone in position?” she said. She received an affirmative. “Good.” She and Charlie entered the courtyard where the tables were set up and passed through the crowds.
“Well, look who we have here!” Charlie and Vaggie grimaced when Vox spoke. “Everyone, Princess Morningstar.” A spotlight appeared on Charlie, and Vox grinned at her clear discomfort. “Glad to see you accepted my invitation. Come on up here where everyone can see you.”
Charlie forced herself forward, holding onto Vaggie’s hand like a lifeline. “Vox, where is my dad? You said he’d be here.”
“He’s around, don’t worry,” said Vox, waving a hand. He walked forward on the stage, leaning over to address Charlie—looking down on her. “And I see you brought a date, and an angel no less—bold move. I can respect a statement.”
Vaggie laughed obnoxiously. She had to force herself to act right. The plan had to go off without a hitch. “You’re so fucking funny.”
Vox chuckled. “I am funny.” He straightened. “Anyway, Princess, hope you’re in the mood to celebrate my victory all night.” He smirked. “Cause tomorrow I’m taking Heaven by force!” He looked at the crowd. “Isn’t that right, everyone?” The crowd cheered, all trying to get a glimpse of the Overlords.
“Vox! Vox! Vox!” chanted the crowd.
Charlie winced and looked around. Her eyes widened. “Alastor!” She gasped and ran towards the chair Alastor sat in.
“Oh, no, no, no, Princess.” Vox’s cables pulled out a chair, but it beside his, and forcefully sat her in it before she could arrive at Alastor’s side. Now Vox would stand between his greatest prisoner and his soon-to-be greatest supporter. “I have a special place for you right here.”
“Seriously?!” snapped Valentino, and Velvette groaned. They were supposed to sit next to Vox, but, instead, they were relegated to the sidelines. Again.
“Fuck this!” Valentino slammed his hand down and stood. “I’m done.” He stormed away from the table.
“Val, you aren’t leaving until the press is done!” snapped Velvette, chasing after him. “Then we can fuck off.”
Charlie grimaced and looked around. Her eyes widened again. “(Y/N)!” They weren’t in V Tower. They were at the party. They were so close, sitting with a pair of demons Charlie didn’t recognize but didn’t care about in that moment. She stood, and Vaggie moved, but cables lashed out to prevent them from moving.
“Ah-ah-ah,” said Vox, wagging a finger. “Don’t disturb a happy family. It’s bad form.”
(Y/N)’s family? Charlie straightened in alarm and looked at Vaggie.
Vaggie grimaced but shook her head slightly. Not yet. They had to wait for the right moment.
“Now, Charlie!” Vox grinned and leaned over the back of her chair. “I’m glad we can have this time to put aside our differences and join together in angelic conquest.” He grinned and summoned holographic screens. “And look, look, look, I made a collage of all our best moments together to celebrate.”
Charlie groaned. She was going to have to put up with a lot while she distracted Vox.
(Y/N) watched the princess sit down, and they looked back at the flowers on the table. Beside them, their parents were discussing what would happen once they had access to Heaven. How (Y/N) would finally be saved. How they would be a proper family again. How all of (Y/N)’s sins would be cleansed through whatever means necessary.
What was my sin? The flowers on the table started to turn scarlet. (Y/N) stared and reached out to them. Their fingers dripped red. (Y/N) sucked in a breath and pushed back.
“What are you doing?” said their father’s voice, tone snapping like a whip.
“I—” (Y/N) blinked and looked at their hands. The deep grey skin and green fingers remained. No red. “—I’m sorry. I thought I saw…”
(M/N) and (F/N) exchanged a look. (M/N) reached across kindly and took (Y/N)’s hands.
“Don’t worry. We’ve got you,” said (M/N), wisps of smoke curling around (Y/N). “What happened was difficult for us, but we came back for you. Despite you letting the Devil in and hurting us, we came back. Because we’re your parents. And we’re going to save you.”
“Even from yourself and the blood on your hands,” said (F/N), nodding along. “We know best.”
(Y/N)’s vision blurred, and the words echoed. “Why did I…sin.”
“Because you were born wrong,” said (F/N). (Y/N) flinched. “We were cursed. But we rise to the challenge and will beat the Devil back. We’ll do what is best for you.”
“Exactly,” said (M/N). “Because we’re your parents and we love you so much.” She smiled.
(Y/N) made themself smile back. Something ached within their chest, like an apple molding.
Abruptly, all the blue holograms showing Charlie’s humiliation turned yellow and showed Baxter’s face with the text “YOU GOT HACKED, BITCH!”
“What the hell?!” snapped Vox.
“Ha!” Charlie grinned and stood. “Guess what, fucker! I have a little surprise for you.”
“Oh, no, you fucking don’t,” growled Vox. “Val, Velvette!” His eyes widened. They were both gone. He narrowed his eyes, through out a hand, and a cable burrowed into V Tower to find his hackers.
It did nothing, and Vox started to sweat as Charlie ran to the stage. She turned to face the crowd as a friendly, bubbly presentation appeared behind her.
“People of Hell, you all know me, and you also know all the ways I’ve failed,” began Charlie, completely herself—honest to a fault. “But I want to tell you about someone who didn’t fail, someone who proved redemption is possible even when I couldn’t. Someone named Sir Pentious.” Drawings of him appeared behind her and then pictures. “Many of you know Sir Pentious. He was a sinner just like you. He was also a kind and compassionate individual. Someone who made mistakes, yes, but someone who did everything he could to fix them, and he succeeded.”
“Why people listen to the daughter of the Devil, I don’t know,” said (M/N).
“They’re all sinners,” said (F/N) in disgust.
“Aren’t we all sinners?” murmured (Y/N) absently.
(F/N)’s rosary beads latched onto (Y/N)’s wrist, and they yelped as the barbs tore into their skin. “We are not sinners. We are burdened by your sins. That is why we are here.” He spoke authoritatively, cold as ice with a stone-faced expression. What he said was final. True and absolute.
(Y/N) ducked their head as the beads let them go. Of course. Their parents were responsible for them. And (Y/N) was a burden.
Vox jumped onstage in front of Charlie. He needed her presence to get her to bow, but he would be double-damned before he let her take over his show. “Alright, Princess! This is my—” A mute symbol appeared on his screen, and he froze, words cutting off. He scratched at his face, panicked, and Charlie shoved him aside.
“In our battle to defend against Adam and the Exorcist army, Pentious fought valiantly and ultimately sacrificed himself protect others.” Despite how Vox was attempting to shout at her and obscure her words, Charlie continued speaking. “This noble gesture was enough to prove that his soul was worthy of redemption. And he is in Heaven, and this time, I can prove it!” She grinned. “Presenting Sir Pentious!”
She looked back at the screen, expecting the Pentious-Baxter plan to go through. Nothing changed. The screen remained a picture of Pentious, but it wasn’t him in the soul-flesh in Heaven. The crowd murmured, some people laughed, and an air of humiliation began to settle over Charlie. She paled.
Charlie looked at the demons losing more faith in her. “No, no, I promise—We-we had a plan, and—”
A beautiful light shone down on them all, and everyone gasped. Emily flew downwards, descending to the stage beside Charlie.
“Please, everyone, give us a chance,” said Emily. “I’m here to tell you that Heaven believes in redemption as well and doesn’t want to cause you any more harm.”
(Y/N)’s brain felt…fuzzy. Something buzzed in the background. “Redemption…”
“Heaven will never allow for redemption for a sinner like you,” said (M/N), her nails digging into the skin of their arm. “Vox’s absolution is all we have to save you.” The child deserved punishment and discipline. They hadn’t learnt their lesson.
(F/N) raised his chin. He knew it was an angel. A true one, from Heaven itself. But he also knew that the child sitting next to him needed to be disciplined, and the daughter of the Devil would not understand what was necessary to redeem such a depraved sinner. The angel was destined to fall.
“Do not listen to the words of an angel falling for the Devil’s daughter’s lies. Remember, child. We know best.”
The world tilted, and (Y/N)’s nails dug into their palms. W̵̻͓͒e̶̬̙̓̀ ̸͚̩̀͝k̴̫̭̈̾ñ̴̢̋o̶͕̤͊̋w̵̨̞̆̌ ̶̧̛̈b̵̤͇͛e̸̛̺s̴̱̾̀͜t̸̨̻͋.̶̤̀ They knew those words. Like a radio broadcasting the same words over and over, they knew the words.
“Leaders of Heaven were led to believe sinners wanted nothing more than to hurt us,” continued Emily. “But now we want nothing more than to make things right. Heaven believes in the capacity for good inside each and every one of you.”
“Yes!” said Charlie. “You all just need to decide if you believe in yourselves!”
She froze as much of the crowd stood. Their eyes were whirling with red light. The screen behind Charlie switched to a scarlet, hypnotic swirl.
“Wait…” she said, and Emily drifted closer nervously. “Why are they looking at us like that?”
All around Charlie and Emily, screens were broadcasting Vox’s eye, broadcasting his desires, broadcasting him.
“Nice try, Princess, but you failed again.” Cables suspended him in the air, and he grinned, eyes glowing with manic, adrenaline-fueled power. He was in control once more. Vox chuckled darkly. “These people are mine, and their minds aren’t changing."
getting-to-know-mutuals game! i was tagged by @megarhyssa-sp :)
LAST READING: a DS9/MASH crossover fanfic. current ongoing published reading is “Art Therapy and the Neuroscience of Trauma.”
LAST SHOW: DS9 - currently on Season 1 of a full series rewatch with my wife 💜
LAST FILM: i watched the first half of mission impossible but fell asleep around the wire-dangling scene 😴
COFFEE OR TEA: Coffee for working evening shifts, tea for relaxation and flavor.
CURRENT PROJECTS: my current mission on this earth is to create fanart for every chapter of Again Without End by @tempusedax-rerum . I am not allowed to die until this task is complete 🫡
TAGGING PEOPLE:
I would love to hear from @f0xseven ,
@shiningknight117, @silver-snow-77 , @mathsanddinos, or @aroace-get-out-of-my-face !
Technically speaking the last thing I read was my own work, because I tend to have the memory of a goldfish and this afternoon I went "oh right!!!! I had a merman au!!" And read through it again, but before that my last Reading was She Thinks of Betta Fish in Cups by @canadianno-gravityfalls which is a wonderful fic found HERE that I recommend everyone reads
Last Show
I know this probably means TV show but I just found the entirety of a german vampire musical called Tanz Der Vampire with english subtitles on YouTube and I. Have seen it like twice. I think I understand german now (I do not)
Last Film
The Cat Returns. Its a great film go watch it
Coffee or Tea
Tea! Usually. I am a lady who loves hot drinks and so if coffee is available I'll drink it, but I usually make myself tea
Current Projects
So many. I'm working on my zine submission for the Across the Multiverse zine, cough countbirch writing cough, abandon my Eulogy has never left my mind, and Werewolf Stan and Ford call to me like sirens from the deep.
I don't. Usually read things actually? The last thing I read was probably some fanfic somewhere (I think it was the most recent chapter of TTWL?) BUT ☝️ my mom let me borrow Go Ask Alice and I've been meaning to get around to it.
Last show: I'm gonna be so fr I think it was the first season of Steven Universe like, a couple months ago. I was gonna watch the whole thing but shit kept lagging so I went to bed and I woke up and forgot to keep watching. Sorry Connor I'll finish it at some point...
Last film:
Fuck it was. Like. I'm gonna assume u mean Movie and not documentary and I cannot remember the name but I watched it w my mom and it was about a journalist getting invited onto a private cruise ship bc some rich nice lady was dying of cancer? But then it was like a mystery... it was really cool and had fantastic cinematography. I do not remember much of the plot but it was color graded well.
Coffee or tea:
Tea! Only bc I can never get coffee sweet enough. But I will drink both. To be fair though my mom is from Labrador so I am not out here drinking tea like a normal person would?
This! frankenstan fic. redfox says it might be the oldest one? thats pretty nifty :)) i hadnt read it before so im…. perusing it. lmao
Last Show:
hmmm. i caught an airing on the olympics on the 8th, ice skating, it was very fun! i watched it in a hotel, which is the only correct way to watch the olympics i think
Last Film:
oh fuckk uh uh i think it wasss. uhhh. fuck. i dont remember lol. i don’t watch a lot of films. hmm.
this wasn’t recent, but i did watch fantastic mister fox for the first time a couple weeks ago, i think? that was a lot of fun. spectacular movie, that one is
Coffee or Tea
mm. i don’t like either of these. but i suppose a chai is nice to sip at periodically over the course of several hours on occasion, so tea!
Current Projects
UHHH
im working on everything congruently at once. when i get my pen nib replacements ill probably work on a comic of mine but rn im writing away, you know how it is. gotta answer an ask on my gf sideblog, i should… be doing that…. lmao
but mostly, im working on my two multichap fics rn :)) wheeeeee
mutuals…. if you so desire……
@artistredfox @joyflameball @caninescreations @otsalezu there are other people im prolly forgetting too idk- OH MY IRLS……
@triforcedtobehere @jonah-lyle @shroombloom95 YOU THREE. get over here (god if i forgot someone y’all are probably gonna kill me lmao)
+anyone else seeing this who wants to join.. i probably forgot so many ppl….. (head in my hands)
Last Read: Just restarted Interview With The Vampire, I never finished it the first time
Last Show: Fantasy High Season 1 (rewatch)
Last Film: Knives Out: Wake Up Dead Man
Coffee Or Tea: I have coffee more, but generally prefer very specific teas in very specific moments. Final answer: Jamba Juice
Current Projects: A couple fiction long-term projects I’m working on, the main three are a high fantasy book series, sci-fi dystopian trilogy, and a (somewhat) modern book (potentially series) about a supernatural/paranormal anthropologist and her weird family!
Moots: @the-sleepiest-salami @jonah-lyle @aneptunicperson @willis-is-charlies-doll a couple irl, a couple of my oldest moots visits been a while since I tagged anyone, if anyone else wants to join they of course can!
