#critic fic

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

AU Sinner Adam And The Others Vs Film Censorship

[ON SCREEN] Scarlett: Oh, Rhett! Rhett! Where will I go? What'll I do? Rhett: Frankly, my dear— [SUDDEN, HORRIBLY JARRING AUDIO DUB IN A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT VOICE] Dubbed Rhett: —I love you. Let's remarry!

[A brightly colored, aggressively cheerful End Card slams onto the screen with bubbly text: Gone With The Wind: Hazbin Family Edition!]

[The lounge falls into a stunned, deeply uncomfortable silence. The majority of the hotel guests and staff look completely befuddled, staring at the screen like it just insulted their ancestors.]

Niffty: (Smiling widely, completely oblivious to the cinematic butchery) Ahh! That’s sweet! What a lovely ending!

Adam: (Leaning forward out of his seat, utterly outraged) What the actual fuck?! They cut out the best goddamn line!

Rooster: (Blinking in utter confusion) Wait... didn’t that motion picture used to have a massive, bloody war in it? Where did the cannons go?!

Vaggie: (Crosses her arms, barking defensively) Stop complaining! Charlie and I didn't want to offend anyone's sensibilities. That movie is a minefield of controversial bullshit, and we are trying to keep this place rehabilitative!

Adam: (Scoffs loudly, gesturing wildly to the room) Dude, are you shitting me right now? We are all adults here! In case you forgot, every single sinner in this room is politically incorrect as fuck, and they all died in eras that were worse! Even up in Heaven, we didn't censor this shit! And we played mind-numbing Hallmark Christmas movies 24/7! We still treated people like adults who could handle a little spice!

Angel Dust: (Stands up, tossing a piece of popcorn at Vaggie) Yeah, Vagyna, for once the old man has a point. You don't fuck with a classic like Gone With The Wind. Hell, I remember when this shit premiered in 1939! I still love it, baggage and all!

Husk: (Taking a swig from his cheap booze, grunting in agreement) Gotta side with Angel and... whatever the fuck Adam is to us. This movie literally fought the Hayes Code just to drop a single, glorious cuss word, only for you two to censor it to a level that would make a 1930s puritan puke.

Cherri Bomb: (Propping her boots up on the table, grinning viciously) Oh, I’m joining this fucking riot. Because if you two prudes are doing this to the classics, I know my favorite 80s slasher flicks are next on your little cutting board!

Alastor: (Lets out a sharp, static-laced laugh, twirling his microphone cane) Ha-ha! I do believe I must join this delightful little mutiny! I died just before it hit theaters and had to watch it down here, but even I find it a disservice to censor such a masterpiece. It captures a perfectly wretched glimpse into the foolish 'Lost Cause' delusion! Plus, I quite adore a story where two absolutely gunky, no-goodniks completely ruin each other and end up miserable. It’s poetic!

Baxter: (Adjusting his glasses, wincing in physical pain) The audio dubbing alone was a scientific atrocity. It looked so jarring I nearly lost my lunch. Do you have any idea how many plot holes you create when you aggressively edit out the toxicity, the entire Civil War, and the outdated racial depictions? The narrative structure collapsed!

[Right on cue, the lounge doors slide open. Charlie steps in, cheerfully balancing a massive tray of fresh popcorn. She freezes, instantly picking up on the heavy, disgruntled vibe in the room.]

Charlie: (Puzzled, blinking) Hey, guys! I brought refills! What’s... going on? Why does everyone look like they want to murder the TV?

Vaggie: (Rubbing her temples) Charlie, they're throwing a tantrum because we cleaned up the movie.

Charlie: (Winced, nervously waving her hands defensively) Wait... I only cut a few parts! Just the... you know, the super problematic bits! And the swearing!

[The entire room collectively groans. Without a word, the guests and staff (except Nifty and Vaggie) stand up to leave in a mass exodus, completely abandoning movie night. Adam stops right in front of Charlie, glaring down at her.]

Adam: Look, Princess. If you censor another movie in this joint, I am going to start a rebellion on your ass that’ll make your old man's fall from grace look like a fucking Sunday school picnic.

[Adam flips his hair, turns on his heel, and storms out of the lounge, leading the rest of the disgruntled crowd behind him, leaving a wide-eyed Charlie holding her tray of ignored popcorn.]

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Abel's Burden: Grief and Redemption

Y/N Angel watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, wings twitching with irritation as Abel trailed behind Emily like a golden retriever who’d just discovered its first tennis ball.

Emily was chirping excitedly about ways to make Sir Pentious — Heaven’s first officially redeemed sinner — feel extra welcome. Abel nodded along with starry‑eyed enthusiasm, practically glowing as he suggested they try to locate any of Pentious’s relatives in Heaven.

Y/N’s face scrunched so hard it could’ve cracked.

Y/N (thinking): Your dad just died and you’re out here playing Welcome Wagon for the guy who helped kill him? Seriously?

Adam had been obnoxious, sure — loud, dramatic, a walking ego with wings — but he didn’t deserve to be forgotten like a bad memo. And watching Abel bounce around like nothing happened? It was disorienting. And infuriating.

Especially when Emily — sweet, well‑meaning, painfully naïve Emily — had pushed Abel into leadership over Lute. Not because he was ready. But because she liked him more.

Y/N finally snapped.

Y/N (nudging Abel hard): “Abel. We need to talk. Now.”

Abel blinked, still smiling. “Sure, just let me—”

Y/N (voice dropping like a guillotine): “Now.”

Abel froze. Even Emily paused mid‑sentence.

Abel (awkward laugh): “Uh— Emily? I’ll be right back. Just… angel business.”

Emily (cheery): “Of course! I’ll be right here when you’re done!”

Y/N dragged Abel off to a quiet corner, sat him down, and stared him dead in the eyes.

Abel: “So… what’s up?”

Y/N (exhaling sharply): “Abel. You’re acting weirdly chill about your dad dying.”

Abel’s smile faltered. His shoulders tensed.

Abel (rubbing his head): “I mean… yeah, it’s sad he was killed, but we also have to—”

Y/N (cutting him off): “‘Sad’?! That’s it? Your father is gone. Forever. And you’re acting like he just… went on vacation!”

Abel opened his mouth, but Y/N steamrolled on.

Y/N: “And on top of that, you’re bending over backwards to help celebrate the guy who helped kill him! What kind of son does that?”

Abel flinched.

Abel (defensive, scrambling): “It wasn’t Sir Pentious’s fault! He was defending his friends and—”

Y/N (louder): “You’re the new leader of the exorcists! The same exorcists who watched their sisters die to Pentious’s buddies! How do you think it looks that you’re pandering to their killers’ friend while doing nothing to help them grieve? Including Lute!”

Abel shrank a little.

Abel: “Lute’s always mad at me anyway…”

Y/N: “She’s grieving, Abel! And you’re too busy following Emily around like she’s the second coming of the Speaker to notice!”

Abel’s wings drooped.

Abel (weakly): “The Speaker said Pentious was reformed. That he earned redemption. Shouldn’t we give him a chance?”

Y/N (voice cracking like thunder): “Would you say that if it was Cain walking through those gates?!”

Silence. Abel froze like someone had ripped the floor out from under him.

His breath hitched. His eyes darted away.

Abel (barely audible): “I… I mean… I would…”

He wouldn’t. They both knew it.

Y/N leaned in, voice low but sharp.

Y/N: “Imagine everyone else having to face their murderers. Their abusers. Their tormentors. All because Emily wants everyone to ‘reach the finish line’ without thinking about the people trampled along the way.”

Abel swallowed hard.

Y/N: “That’s why I don’t blame your father for what he did. Mercy without justice isn’t mercy — it’s cruelty dressed up pretty.”

Abel’s eyes widened, guilt and confusion swirling.

Y/N (standing up): “If you want to follow Emily’s bleeding‑heart ideals, fine. But don’t be surprised when the day comes that she chooses your murderer over your feelings.”

Y/N walked away, leaving Abel sitting alone, wings drooping, expression cracked open with doubt, grief, and the first real fear he’d felt since Adam fell.