Ouuuugggghhh @burntbrownsugar 's Villain Stone my favorite thing in the world...
I call the first one "the fallen zealot" but I did NOT like the background I made so... Multiple versions. The last one's just silly but Stone should be allowed to be a little bit of a bitch. He's earned it.
Bonus my girlfailure concept under the cut I just did not have it in me to get it right 😭 maybe one day
Do you think doorman would get upset / disgusted with himself once he falls in love with someone
/ mention of genitalia but its not sexual at all
I mean, think about it. A god like him? A divine being falling for a paltry bag of blood and meat? Maybe his time on this plane was beginning to make him go insane. The mere thought would have him made fun of with all his other kin. It was simply unthinkable to him. Like some sort of divine joke played on him by the city mother or amber king to punish him for shedding his trappings.
Your voice becomes grating to him but it still rattles in his skull while he performs his duties. He finds himself scrubbing the porcelain of the sinks a bit too hard, placing down luggage with a bit more force, being a bit too snappy with guests as he thinks of your lopsided smile and blemished skin... It was all your fault. This wasn't his fault of course, you must have been some sort of succubus/incubus in disguise! It wasn't his fault this pathetic shell he had was falling for you!
And one day, he almost kills you for it. Almost. His hands had rested a bit too harshly on your shoulders, fingers twitching with the anticipation to just... Crack that fragile neck of yours. He'd done it multitudes of times to others, it wouldn't hurt to indulge himself once more...
But he doesn't.
He stops.
You're looking at him with such trusting eyes, curious and almost suspicious, but more so in a way that you think he's merely being silly right now. He hates that he can see himself reflected on your irises. He hates seeing your lip quirked up in a small confused grin. He hates how warm your skin feels even under your clothing. He hates how alive you are.
"... Your collar was inside out."
A forced smile and a minor fix to your shirt is all he ends up doing. Stiffly walking away without even a polite goodbye. His hands clenched tight enough to nearly rip his gloves. He needs to recollect himself. He must.
By the time he's back in his private quarters of the Baroness, far away from any prying eyes or any eavesdropping ears, he's clawing at his dresser as he silently seethes to himself.
What had become of him? He couldn't even kill a human now? What were you doing to him? Were you another being like him? Maybe you were something akin to the patrons. That had to be the only logical explanation, surely?
He could feel his non existent stomach churn, his false heart fluttering as some wretched part of him yearned to see you again already. Oh how dearly you made him want to tear his flesh off in a fit of rage. Or perhaps tear your flesh off... No, the thought made him feel guilty? Since when could he feel that?
He's seen how humans pathetically clutch each other in their final moments, how they look so tenderly at each other even in their dying breaths. When he tortured man he never understood it, it bored him because he couldn't understand why such hateful creatures like humans could also be so full of...
It was as if cold water was poured over him. That... Emotion. That feeling. In all his millennia of living he had never felt it nor had he ever seen it with his kind. Beings like him didn't need it. So why did he feel so starved when you weren't around? This shell of his required neither food or water to function but still he found himself subconsciously seeking you out like a lost stray.
And obviously his shell did not own any sort of genitalia. This was a well respected hotel after all, not some seedy brothel. So he had to rule out the possibility that his shell was merely acting on it's base instincts.
Then that would have meant that whatever he was feeling was actually from him. From the portion of him still slumbering deep in the cosmos while he pretended to be human on this meager planet buried beneath hundreds of light years of dark matter and dark energy...
Oh God.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, an unfamiliar look sporting him; a slightly agape jaw, mused hair and constricted pupils. His well crafted bellboy persona having fallen apart just from a simple human, just from one insignificant person. Not even a politician, not a royal, not some mythical creature, just you. You made this sickening fluffy feeling well up inside his chest.
He had fallen in love with you. He could finally understand why some humans he tortured would cling to each other in their final moments. This all consuming warmth was making him feel nearly dizzy...
... He would have to ruminate over this for the next few days. Perhaps silently nudge himself into your life more and more. Perhaps take note of your favorite drink and if you preferred flowers over chocolate. After learning your routines and likes he could just brush you off afterwards. Yes, of course. This would fix him. And then this dastardly feeling would be all gone. Right?
