Kadyr tried his very best to walk like a professional adult and grown-up Imp. Hell, he WAS a grown-up, but he had no scars like Blitz or Moxx and hadn't been through hardships like they had.
Unfortunately for him and his attempt to look professional, the stack of paperwork he carried was taller than his entire torso, and every step made the top sheets wobble. His tiny hooves clicked across the floor of the I.M.P office, tail puffed out with determination as he made his way toward Blitz’s office.
Blitz was busy doing… well, whatever Blitz did.
Kadyr peeked around the mountain of papers and politely cleared his throat.
“Uh— Mister Blitz?” he squeaked, voice soft and hopeful. Kadyr shuffled closer, working his way behind Blitz’s desk because it felt more Important and Official to approach from that angle. He balanced the paperwork carefully, trying very hard not to drop even one sheet.
He stopped right beside Blitz’s chair, looked up with giant round eyes, and asked in the most earnest, eager-to-please voice in all of Hell:
“Where would you like me to place these papers, sir?”
@historias-multorum
Prince Elias Acorn stood tall on the balcony of Mobotropolis’ temporary palace, a former hotel before the war, the golden afternoon sunlight gleaming off the worn salvaged banners of the Acorn family crest. Below him, the square was filled with cheering citizens, and among them the familiar faces of the Freedom Fighters—those who had made this moment possible. He drew in a steadying breath before speaking, his voice carrying clear and firm across the courtyard.
“My people,” Elias began, his tone measured yet warm, “today we stand on ground that was once lost to us. Mobotropolis begins to breathe again, not because of crowns or titles, but because of the courage and sacrifice of those who refused to surrender to despair. The Freedom Fighters—our champions—fought for every stone, every street, every family that calls this city home.”
Applause roared up from the crowd, but Elias lifted a hand, his expression softening. “Yet, though we celebrate today, we must not grow complacent. The shadows of Robotnik’s reign do not vanish overnight. There is rebuilding to do, wounds to mend, and a kingdom to make stronger than it has ever been. Together, with resolve, with unity, we will see this through.”
His final words were nearly drowned out by cheers, but Elias allowed himself a small smile. He felt he did well, despite his nervousness. He knew that some viewed him as an outsider since he hadn’t fought with them. Sally had done that. But he was the eldest male son, he’d do what he could. Shaking off the thoughts, he stepped back from the balcony, and then, without hesitation, he descended the steps into the crowd. Guards tried to keep pace, but the prince waved them back—this was his moment to be among his people.
Elias made his way through, clasping hands, exchanging grateful words, until his eyes fell on a figure he had seen only from afar before, but had heard very much about: Sonic the Hedgehog.
For the briefest moment, Elias faltered. His chest tightened, his carefully rehearsed gratitude caught in his throat. How striking Sonic seemed up close—charming, untamed, beautiful emerald eyes…yet steady in a way Elias hadn’t expected.
Gathering himself, Elias extended his hand. “Sonic… words cannot begin to measure what you’ve done for this kingdom. For me, for all of us. Thank you. My sister speaks very fondly of you.”
The serene hum of Heaven’s endless light bathed the golden halls as Archangel Raphael briskly walked through the expansive corridors, her hands full of scrolls and vials glowing with divine energy. The weight of her duties pressed heavily on her shoulders. There were wounds to heal, prayers to answer, and miracles to perform. And then a firm yet gentle hand grabbed her arm.
“Raphael,” a familiar voice called, soft but resolute as Asmodel, Angel-King of the Pax Dei and Angel of Patience interrupted her routine, his grip steady but kind. “You’re always in the middle of something. Always rushing from one miracle to the next, one wound to heal after another. But when was the last time you stopped to breathe?”
“Raph,” Asmodel said, his voice softer now, laced with something she couldn’t ignore as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re Heaven’s healer, but even healers need rest. You’ve been running yourself ragged for centuries. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”
His grip tightened slightly as he pulled her to him as he exchanged a quick glance with Kandi who was nearby. No one knew the shit storm that was about to come down, save for Samael’s (Lucifer’s) co-conspirators. “I’m asking you to choose yourself for once. Just for a little while. Take the week off. Let someone else carry the weight for a change. Be with me.”
@stcries-untcld
The bass of the Deity club thrummed through marble and bone alike, a low heartbeat beneath incense and ozone. Anubis slipped past columns carved with prayers older than cities and waded into the pool, water cool against his dark skin, lapping at the gold of my collar. The surface caught the lights—lapis and amber—and fractured them into a hundred shifting stars.
He did not often come to places like this. The god of the dead is accustomed to quieter thresholds. But even gods tire of the weight of endings.
The water changed when it reached his thighs—salty, alive, attentive. He smiled without showing teeth. Only one god made water behave like that.
“Careful Poseidon.” Anubis turned and looked at the other god. Poseidon lounged at the edge, trident resting against his shoulder, curls damp and shining. Seafoam clung to him like a lazy crown.
“I was admiring your craftsmanship,” Anubis said, letting the water rise to his abs. “The water listens to you. That’s rare. I trust you were enjoying having it feel me up?”
Hiro was sitting at the lunch table all by himself while eating his food and reading a comic book. He was pretty new to Collège Françoise Dupont as he hadn't met anyone new yet. (Marc)
Marc was also sitting by himself, far in a corner as he ate quietly and flipped through something on his phone. As usual he made himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, face covered slightly by his red hoodie.
Joseph May had never seen a city like this before. Sure, he’d heard Millie talk about Imp City now and then, but hearing about it and seeing it were two different things. He stood slack-jawed on the sidewalk, whistling in amazement as he took in the towering buildings, flashing neon lights, and the sheer number of Imps scurrying about.
“Boy howdy,” he murmured. “Ain’t never seen so many folks in one place. Y’all must be busier than a one-legged demon at a dance-off.”
His tail swayed behind him as he paced outside the elevator terminal as he waited for his sister to come get him, boots clicking against the cracked pavement. Joseph had no real destination in mind—just a wide-eyed country imp taking in the sights. He admired the fancy billboards advertising things he didn’t quite understand, gawked at the speed demons zipping by on the roads, and even chuckled at the way an imp barkeep was hollering at a drunk to get out of his bar.
But then, as he turned a corner, a hunched-over Imp with ragged clothes and wide, pitiful eyes shuffled up to him.
“Hey there, friend,” the Imp wheezed, wringing his hands together. “You look like a kind soul. I just need a few bucks to get back on my feet. Lost my job, lost my home… but if you help me out, I promise I’ll pay you back tenfold.”
Joseph blinked. “Tenfold? Well, shoot, that’s a mighty fine return! Alrighty, here ya go.” He pulled a handful of bills from his pocket and handed them over with a cheerful grin.