Static and Buzz

Chapter 1: Static in the Mind

Alastor strolled through the streets of Penticle City, the echoes of his hum blending with the distant jazz tunes that he played with his staff. The city had transformed since his death day in 1933, embracing the 1950s with towering structures of brick and steel. The recent murders of previous Overlords birthed innovation, and buildings with audacious designs now adorned the landscape.

The memories of New Orleans lingered in the corners of Alastor's mind as he approached Carmilla's building. The hellish metropolis, with its skyscrapers reaching towards the crimson-tinged sky. The city had embraced progress, a fusion of infernal chaos and the order of earthly designs. He stepped into the elevator, and a hellhound, true to the spirit of the era, operated the mechanisms with a clinking of chains and the grinding of gears. The iron gate closed, sealing Alastor. As the elevator ascended, he continued his humming.

The top floor unfolded into a scene reminiscent of a bygone era, an opulent display of polished floors, mahogany accents, and the warm, inviting glow of lighting. Alastor gracefully stepped onto the plush carpet, taking the open seat next to Rosie and Franklin. At the head of the table, Carmilla presided, with Zestial at her right hand. "Alastor, how nice of you to join us," Carmilla greeted with a cool demeanor.

"Well, of course! I heard there are some up-and-comers trying to prove themselves worthy to join us. And you know how I love to keep the standards high," Alastor replied with a wide smile, relishing the subtle flicker of uncertainty that crossed Carmilla's face. She had always kept herself above the darker aspects that many overlords reveled in. Yet, Alastor, with his infamous record, had seen to the demise of numerous overlords. The count? He pondered briefly, the memories of each conquest blending together.

As he contemplated, the static in his mind grew louder, an unwelcome intrusion. Alastor hastily adjusted it, regaining control and silencing the dissonance. His keen eyes scanned the room, searching for the source of interference. There, a figure caught his attention – a demon with a peculiar box on his head. Antennae protruded from the contraption, emitting a high-pitched hum that disrupted the refined ambiance of the meeting.

Alastor's grin widened as he assessed the situation, intrigued by this unexpected disturbance. A playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he prepared to address the eccentric intruder, his voice carrying a certain mischievous charm.  "Well, well, what do we have here? A demon with a taste for interference, it seems. Who are you?"

"My name is Vox the TV Demon" The demon raised his hand expecting for a handshake. 

"Vox the TV Demon," Alastor repeated, the words resonating with a theatrical rhythm. He eyed Vox's outstretched hand, a momentary pause before Alastor's lips curled into a sly smile. With a flourish, he reached out to shake Vox's hand. As the hands met a spark of electricity ran through them and Alastor pulled away quickly before wiping his hand on his pants below the table.

All eyes were on them. A collective hush fell over the room as all eyes converged on the unusual scene. The overlords wondered how the technologies worked together. Carmilla breaks the tension. 

Carmilla, broke the tension by providing context to Vox's technological endeavors. "Yes, Vox has been doing a lot to bring new technology to Hell since he manifested. He has staked a territory in the entertainment district substantial enough to be considered an overlord."

Vox took his seat across from Alastor, addressing the table with a charismatic smile. "Well, I am happy to be recognized."

"And this is Niffty." Carmilla waves her hand to the four-foot cyclops who appeared from under the table taking a seat from under the table. She seemed to be some type of bug demon dressed in a housewife dress. 

"Hey there, darlings! I'm Niffty, and I'm so glad to make some new friends!" she exclaimed, punctuating her introduction with a theatrical flourish of her hands. As her gaze landed on Alastor and Zestial, a mischievous spark lit up her singular eye.

"I've been looking for a bad boy to keep me in my place," she declared, a playful glint in her eye as she surveyed the room. 

Camilla clarifies. "Niffty has not amassed territory but she has acquired a... impressive amount of souls."

"After this last extermination, we are looking to integrate Vox's technology into the fabric of the pride ring. You see, we've only recently managed to make phones commonplace," Carmilla explained, her tone projecting a sense of both practicality and ambition. With sinners like Vox surfacing, she continued detailing how Hell was poised to undergo a significant transformation, aligning itself with the advancements of the human realm. This transformation would commence with the technology district and Carmila Towers, marking a bold stride toward modernization in the infernal domain.

Alastor continued to watch the TV Demon, Vox, with a heightened sense of curiosity. Technology like Vox's was a novelty to him. The screens from his earthly era had been considerably smaller, and the mechanisms less intricate compared to Vox's contraption. Despite his deep understanding of the arcane, Alastor found himself captivated by the advancements that had taken place since his time on Earth.

The buzzing sensation from Vox's screen resonated with Alastor's powers, creating a peculiar and intriguing connection. Even as the continuous buzzing persisted, Alastor couldn't help but wonder how Vox endured the relentless noise and vibrations emanating from his own head. Grateful that, as the Radio Demon, he didn't have a literal radio for a face, Alastor pondered the circumstances that led to Vox's main demonic feature being the TV.

Vox, equally intrigued by Alastor, paid close attention during the meeting with the overlords. As the gathering concluded, Alastor rose and made his way to the elevator. Vox quickly joined him, eager to initiate a conversation. The Iron gate closed behind them.

"I have heard so much about you! The Radio Demon! You know that radio and television have come a long way since you've been here. We should meet over dinner sometime!" Vox beamed, his TV screen displaying a wide, charismatic smile.

Alastor examined the sharply dressed demon, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Well, of course, I can't ignore someone as fond of entertainment as I am," he replied, reciprocating the smile with one of his own. 

Vox's enthusiasm was palpable as he happily declared, "Fantastic! I know just the place. How about Sinner's Soda Fountain at 7 pm? It's a delightful spot, perfect for a meeting of two entertainment connoisseurs like ourselves."

Alastor, intrigued by the proposition, nodded in agreement. "Sinner's Soda Fountain at 7 pm it is. I look forward to it, Vox." They stepped out of the elevator both looking forward to dinner. 

@holysketch_69

We have our first fan art for the fanfic! By Nathaira Love!

Chapter 14: Celestial Discord

Emily fidgeted in her seat, she was barely contained as she and Sera waited in the meeting room reserved for high-ranking angels. The atmosphere was tense, a palpable anticipation hanging in the air. The room's pristine walls and decor seemed at odds with the weight of the decision they were about to witness.

Sera, seated beside her, exuded an air of stern determination. Her focus was unwavering, eyes fixed on the door through which Adam would eventually emerge. Emily couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the human souls caught in the crossfire of the Extermination, yet her boundless optimism held firm.

"You know, Sera, I really wish I could see what's happening down there," Emily piped up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I mean, we could learn so much from observing, and maybe we could help Charlie better."

Sera turned to her with a stern expression. "Emily, we've discussed this. Our role is to preserve the joy of the souls in Heaven. We can't interfere in the affairs of Hell."

"But what if there's a way to show everyone that rehabilitation is possible?" Emily persisted, her bubbly demeanor undeterred by Sera's caution. "Charlie believes in it, and I do too. We can't just stand by and let things happen without trying to make a difference."

Sera sighed, her gaze softening for a moment. "Emily, I understand your eagerness, but Heaven has its rules. We can't bend them just because we want to believe in something. Our duty is to the souls here, not those in Hell."

"But don't you want to help them too?" Emily's eyes widened a genuine desire to make a positive impact evident in her expression. "Charlie's dream is beautiful, and if we can find a way to make it real, think about how many souls we could save from eternal suffering."

"Enough, I already told you that you don't know everything," Emily's usually cheery demeanor faltered as Sera's stern voice reverberated through the room.

"Then why don't you tell me?" Emily's optimism wavered, replaced by a determined glint in her eyes.

Sera sighed, weariness etched across her features. "Because not everything is so simple. And you don't know the real world. What it takes."

"But I won't know if you don't let me try," Emily insisted, her commitment to her beliefs pushing through.

"Trying can make you fall. I don't want you to fall as Lucifer did," Sera replied, her words heavy with a sense of caution and concern.

Emily's enthusiasm dimmed for a moment as she absorbed the weight of Sera's words. A flicker of understanding crossed her features, but she didn't back down. "Sera, I know it won't be easy, but I believe in the good in everyone. If we don't try, how will we ever make a difference?"

An angelic chorus interrupted their discussion, signaling the arrival of a new soul. Emily couldn't help but wonder about the unusual appearance – souls typically arrived at the front gate. Her curiosity flickered, but it transformed into sheer excitement when she recognized the newly formed angel standing before them.

It was Sir Pentious, one of the two Sinner Demons that Charlie had been working on rehabilitating. The transformation from a sinner to an angel filled Emily with a surge of joy. She nearly jumped up and down, her wings fluttering with excitement. The sight of a redeemed soul entering Heaven was a testament to the possibility of change and redemption.

"Huh, Oh? Where--? Where am I? Oh, hello." Sir Pentious looked around before looking at Emily.

"Sir Pentious!" Emily exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine delight. "You made it! Welcome to Heaven!"

Sera, on the other hand, did not share Emily's enthusiasm. Her expression remained stoic, a barely concealed mask for the unease and discord churning within her. The success of the rehabilitation program was met with a silent frown, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sera had her reservations and, more importantly, her secrets.

Sir Pentious, still adjusting to his newfound state, blinked in confusion but seemed to register the warm welcome. "Uh, greetings, angels. This ain't what I expected."

Emily couldn't contain her happiness. "Oh, it's so wonderful to have you here! You're proof that redemption is possible."

Sera's reaction was measured, her gaze shifting between Emily and the newly ascended angel. She held her silence, an unspoken tension simmering beneath the surface. As Emily continued to shower Sir Pentious with welcoming words, Sera's discontent remained a lingering undercurrent.

Sera's cold and measured tone cut through Emily's enthusiasm. "Where is Adam?" She glanced at Sir Pentious.

"He was shooting at people with beamsss of light; we were losing the battle. I tried to help my friendsss, and there was a large blast of light," Sir Pentious explained.

Emily's worried gaze shifted between Sera and Sir Pentious. Angels were not meant to harm souls, and the revelation of violence in the battle troubled her. She sensed an air of secrecy, and the uncertainty in Sera's expression fueled her concern. Attempting to glean insights, Emily opened the evil eye on her halo and the one on her chest, a Seraphim ability that usually allowed her to perceive intentions and emotions. However, the web of confusion persisted, leaving her unable to decipher Sera's true feelings.

"Sera, what happened out there?" Emily questioned, her voice tinged with both worry and a desire for transparency. The clash of light and darkness, redemption and secrecy, hung heavy in the celestial air, creating a dissonance that Emily couldn't ignore.

"I will handle this. Show our new guest around," Sera responded resolutely.

Sera's directive brought a momentary reprieve to Emily's concern. With a bright smile, she eagerly took Sir Pentious's hand. "Come on! I'll show you the wonders of Heaven!" she exclaimed, momentarily setting aside the shadows of uncertainty that lingered in her thoughts.

As they embarked on a tour of Heaven, Emily's innate cheeriness bubbled forth, creating a stark contrast to the underlying tensions within the celestial realm.

"My job is to make sure everyone is happy, and that includes you! We got no worries, got no burglaries, no strife. It's the perfect afterlife!" Emily recited, a mantra ingrained in her beliefs, a beacon of optimism in the celestial realm.

"Emily... Thisss is nice, but what about my friendsss?" Sir Pentious inquired, his concern cutting through the utopian veneer of Heaven.

Emily's sunny expression faltered for a moment as she considered the question. She tightened her grip on Sir Pentious's hand and replied, "We'll find a way to help them too. Charlie believes in redemption, and I do too. We just need to show everyone that it's possible." Her words held a determination, a testament to her unwavering faith in Charlie's vision.

She showed Pentious to a temporary room for him to gain his bearings. Before trying to find Sera. She had to let Charlie know that Sir Pentious was here. She would think he was dead unless someone told her. But you could only go to hell with Sera's permission. She went back to the meeting hall already hearing screaming. It was Lute, Adam's lieutenant.

"ADAM IS DEAD!" Lute's voice echoed through the meeting hall, carrying the weight of an unthinkable truth. Emily gasped, her eyes widening in shock. Angels couldn't die, or so she believed. The celestial hierarchy had always been a constant, a beacon of stability in the tumultuous cosmic landscape. She moves closer to the door listening in. "I should be killing them all. I am the leader of the exorcists now. Give me the word and I will create a new army of angels and kill every sinner down there."

No Lute can't it was a path of destruction, a departure from the ideals of redemption and compassion that she held dear.

Sera responded "No. I only agreed to this to keep hell from our doorstep. And now we have lost Adam. Adam's one job was to keep hell from amassing enough power."

Emily's mind raced with questions, her innate optimism clouded by the somber reality unfolding before her. She pondered the consequences of Adam's death, the potential unraveling of the delicate balance between Heaven and Hell. The harmonious vision she held for both realms now seemed threatened by the specter of conflict and revenge.

The weight of exclusion hung heavy in the air as Emily, a Seraphim, the highest angel after Sera, found herself listening through a closed door instead of being an integral part of the crucial discussion. A surge of determination coursed through her celestial being, propelling her to take matters into her own hands.

Summoning courage, Emily swung the door open boldly and confidently. Her voice, though attempting to match Sera's imposing presence, carried a hint of vulnerability beneath the façade. "Lute, it is good to see you. Sera, I had hoped you would be including me in any of these discussions in the future."

The atmosphere in the room shifted with Emily's entrance. Her wings, a radiant display of celestial glory, added a touch of ethereal elegance to the space. She stood firm, an embodiment of her commitment to maintaining balance and understanding between the realms all of her eyes looking for truth.

Sera's eyes, usually welcoming to her, held a mixture of frustration and stern resolve. Lute's expression, on the other hand, betrayed a sense of irritation at Emily's unexpected interruption. The Seraphim's attempt to assert herself in the higher echelons of Heaven's hierarchy faced resistance.

As Emily stood firm, her determination to be part of the decision-making process evident in her gaze, the atmosphere within the meeting room grew tenser. Sera's stern expression shifted from frustration to a cold resolve. Lute's irritation transformed into a malicious glint in his eyes. Unbeknownst to Emily, her bold intrusion had sparked a decision that would leave a profound mark on her celestial existence.

In response to Emily's unexpected assertiveness, Sera's voice cut through the silence, her tone cold and decisive. "Emily, your place is not here. You have your duties to attend to, preserving the joy of the ascended souls. Leave the matters of Heaven's defense to those appointed for such responsibilities."

"You cannot silence my questions. Heaven and Hell deserve to know the truth, and I will not be kept in the dark any longer."

The words hung in the air, a clear dismissal that emphasized the hierarchical structure of Heaven.

Lute, seizing the opportunity to assert dominance, chimed in with a smirk. "Maybe she needs a reminder of her place, Sera. An angel meddling in matters beyond her station is dangerous."

Sera nodded in agreement, her eyes narrowing as she regarded Emily. "You need a lesson in obedience and understanding your limitations. I warned you." As the tension escalated, Emily felt an invisible force constricting around her. The air grew heavy with the weight of the impending decision. Before she could react, Sera gestured with a motion that seemed almost casual, but it carried the weight of divine authority.

In an instant, a celestial blade materialized in Sera's hand. The ethereal glow of Emily's wings dimmed. The celestial appendages, symbols of her divine status, were now marked for sacrifice. The room echoed with a profound silence as Sera, with unwavering determination, brought the blade down, severing Emily's six wings from her back in one sweep.

The pain was immediate and intense. Emily's celestial connection shattered, leaving her grounded and stripped of the divine grace she had once embodied. The severed wings, now reduced to mere stumps, fell away from Emily. Emily felt a searing agony that eclipsed any physical torment she had ever known. It was as if a part of her essence had been violently torn away, the divine connection that once bound her to the heavens now shattered. The room resonated with her screams, golden blood falling to the floor from her back. The room bore witness to a sacrifice that transcended the physical, a reminder that even celestial beings were not immune to the consequences of defiance.

She looked up to Sera, her only family, desperation and disbelief etched across her celestial features. "Sera, no, please. This isn't who we are. This isn't what Heaven's supposed to be."

Sera remained out of reach, an unyielding pillar of coldness that Emily had recently witnessed far too often. The familial warmth that had once defined their connection was now replaced by an icy resolve. The celestial bond they shared seemed to wither in the face of Sera's unwavering determination.

"Emily," Sera's voice carried a hint of stern finality, "sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. Your impulsive actions have consequences, and I cannot allow our realm to be jeopardized by individual desires."

And then she was falling backward, expelled from the celestial heights of Heaven, plummeting through the cosmic expanse until she breached the boundaries of the Pride Ring of Hell. The transition from the divine to the infernal was swift and disorienting, as the once serene and radiant Emily found herself cast into the fiery abyss.

Chapter 14: Celestial Discord

Emily fidgeted in her seat, she was barely contained as she and Sera waited in the meeting room reserved for high-ranking angels. The atmosphere was tense, a palpable anticipation hanging in the air. The room's pristine walls and decor seemed at odds with the weight of the decision they were about to witness.

Sera, seated beside her, exuded an air of stern determination. Her focus was unwavering, eyes fixed on the door through which Adam would eventually emerge. Emily couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the human souls caught in the crossfire of the Extermination, yet her boundless optimism held firm.

"You know, Sera, I really wish I could see what's happening down there," Emily piped up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I mean, we could learn so much from observing, and maybe we could help Charlie better."

Sera turned to her with a stern expression. "Emily, we've discussed this. Our role is to preserve the joy of the souls in Heaven. We can't interfere in the affairs of Hell."

"But what if there's a way to show everyone that rehabilitation is possible?" Emily persisted, her bubbly demeanor undeterred by Sera's caution. "Charlie believes in it, and I do too. We can't just stand by and let things happen without trying to make a difference."

Sera sighed, her gaze softening for a moment. "Emily, I understand your eagerness, but Heaven has its rules. We can't bend them just because we want to believe in something. Our duty is to the souls here, not those in Hell."

"But don't you want to help them too?" Emily's eyes widened a genuine desire to make a positive impact evident in her expression. "Charlie's dream is beautiful, and if we can find a way to make it real, think about how many souls we could save from eternal suffering."

"Enough, I already told you that you don't know everything," Emily's usually cheery demeanor faltered as Sera's stern voice reverberated through the room.

"Then why don't you tell me?" Emily's optimism wavered, replaced by a determined glint in her eyes.

Sera sighed, weariness etched across her features. "Because not everything is so simple. And you don't know the real world. What it takes."

"But I won't know if you don't let me try," Emily insisted, her commitment to her beliefs pushing through.

"Trying can make you fall. I don't want you to fall as Lucifer did," Sera replied, her words heavy with a sense of caution and concern.

Emily's enthusiasm dimmed for a moment as she absorbed the weight of Sera's words. A flicker of understanding crossed her features, but she didn't back down. "Sera, I know it won't be easy, but I believe in the good in everyone. If we don't try, how will we ever make a difference?"

An angelic chorus interrupted their discussion, signaling the arrival of a new soul. Emily couldn't help but wonder about the unusual appearance – souls typically arrived at the front gate. Her curiosity flickered, but it transformed into sheer excitement when she recognized the newly formed angel standing before them.

It was Sir Pentious, one of the two Sinner Demons that Charlie had been working on rehabilitating. The transformation from a sinner to an angel filled Emily with a surge of joy. She nearly jumped up and down, her wings fluttering with excitement. The sight of a redeemed soul entering Heaven was a testament to the possibility of change and redemption.

"Huh, Oh? Where--? Where am I? Oh, hello." Sir Pentious looked around before looking at Emily.

"Sir Pentious!" Emily exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine delight. "You made it! Welcome to Heaven!"

Sera, on the other hand, did not share Emily's enthusiasm. Her expression remained stoic, a barely concealed mask for the unease and discord churning within her. The success of the rehabilitation program was met with a silent frown, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sera had her reservations and, more importantly, her secrets.

Sir Pentious, still adjusting to his newfound state, blinked in confusion but seemed to register the warm welcome. "Uh, greetings, angels. This ain't what I expected."

Emily couldn't contain her happiness. "Oh, it's so wonderful to have you here! You're proof that redemption is possible."

Sera's reaction was measured, her gaze shifting between Emily and the newly ascended angel. She held her silence, an unspoken tension simmering beneath the surface. As Emily continued to shower Sir Pentious with welcoming words, Sera's discontent remained a lingering undercurrent.

Sera's cold and measured tone cut through Emily's enthusiasm. "Where is Adam?" She glanced at Sir Pentious.

"He was shooting at people with beamsss of light; we were losing the battle. I tried to help my friendsss, and there was a large blast of light," Sir Pentious explained.

Emily's worried gaze shifted between Sera and Sir Pentious. Angels were not meant to harm souls, and the revelation of violence in the battle troubled her. She sensed an air of secrecy, and the uncertainty in Sera's expression fueled her concern. Attempting to glean insights, Emily opened the evil eye on her halo and the one on her chest, a Seraphim ability that usually allowed her to perceive intentions and emotions. However, the web of confusion persisted, leaving her unable to decipher Sera's true feelings.

"Sera, what happened out there?" Emily questioned, her voice tinged with both worry and a desire for transparency. The clash of light and darkness, redemption and secrecy, hung heavy in the celestial air, creating a dissonance that Emily couldn't ignore.

"I will handle this. Show our new guest around," Sera responded resolutely.

Sera's directive brought a momentary reprieve to Emily's concern. With a bright smile, she eagerly took Sir Pentious's hand. "Come on! I'll show you the wonders of Heaven!" she exclaimed, momentarily setting aside the shadows of uncertainty that lingered in her thoughts.

As they embarked on a tour of Heaven, Emily's innate cheeriness bubbled forth, creating a stark contrast to the underlying tensions within the celestial realm.

"My job is to make sure everyone is happy, and that includes you! We got no worries, got no burglaries, no strife. It's the perfect afterlife!" Emily recited, a mantra ingrained in her beliefs, a beacon of optimism in the celestial realm.

"Emily... Thisss is nice, but what about my friendsss?" Sir Pentious inquired, his concern cutting through the utopian veneer of Heaven.

Emily's sunny expression faltered for a moment as she considered the question. She tightened her grip on Sir Pentious's hand and replied, "We'll find a way to help them too. Charlie believes in redemption, and I do too. We just need to show everyone that it's possible." Her words held a determination, a testament to her unwavering faith in Charlie's vision.

She showed Pentious to a temporary room for him to gain his bearings. Before trying to find Sera. She had to let Charlie know that Sir Pentious was here. She would think he was dead unless someone told her. But you could only go to hell with Sera's permission. She went back to the meeting hall already hearing screaming. It was Lute, Adam's lieutenant.

"ADAM IS DEAD!" Lute's voice echoed through the meeting hall, carrying the weight of an unthinkable truth. Emily gasped, her eyes widening in shock. Angels couldn't die, or so she believed. The celestial hierarchy had always been a constant, a beacon of stability in the tumultuous cosmic landscape. She moves closer to the door listening in. "I should be killing them all. I am the leader of the exorcists now. Give me the word and I will create a new army of angels and kill every sinner down there."

No Lute can't it was a path of destruction, a departure from the ideals of redemption and compassion that she held dear.

Sera responded "No. I only agreed to this to keep hell from our doorstep. And now we have lost Adam. Adam's one job was to keep hell from amassing enough power."

Emily's mind raced with questions, her innate optimism clouded by the somber reality unfolding before her. She pondered the consequences of Adam's death, the potential unraveling of the delicate balance between Heaven and Hell. The harmonious vision she held for both realms now seemed threatened by the specter of conflict and revenge.

The weight of exclusion hung heavy in the air as Emily, a Seraphim, the highest angel after Sera, found herself listening through a closed door instead of being an integral part of the crucial discussion. A surge of determination coursed through her celestial being, propelling her to take matters into her own hands.

Summoning courage, Emily swung the door open boldly and confidently. Her voice, though attempting to match Sera's imposing presence, carried a hint of vulnerability beneath the façade. "Lute, it is good to see you. Sera, I had hoped you would be including me in any of these discussions in the future."

The atmosphere in the room shifted with Emily's entrance. Her wings, a radiant display of celestial glory, added a touch of ethereal elegance to the space. She stood firm, an embodiment of her commitment to maintaining balance and understanding between the realms all of her eyes looking for truth.

Sera's eyes, usually welcoming to her, held a mixture of frustration and stern resolve. Lute's expression, on the other hand, betrayed a sense of irritation at Emily's unexpected interruption. The Seraphim's attempt to assert herself in the higher echelons of Heaven's hierarchy faced resistance.

As Emily stood firm, her determination to be part of the decision-making process evident in her gaze, the atmosphere within the meeting room grew tenser. Sera's stern expression shifted from frustration to a cold resolve. Lute's irritation transformed into a malicious glint in his eyes. Unbeknownst to Emily, her bold intrusion had sparked a decision that would leave a profound mark on her celestial existence.

In response to Emily's unexpected assertiveness, Sera's voice cut through the silence, her tone cold and decisive. "Emily, your place is not here. You have your duties to attend to, preserving the joy of the ascended souls. Leave the matters of Heaven's defense to those appointed for such responsibilities."

"You cannot silence my questions. Heaven and Hell deserve to know the truth, and I will not be kept in the dark any longer."

The words hung in the air, a clear dismissal that emphasized the hierarchical structure of Heaven.

Lute, seizing the opportunity to assert dominance, chimed in with a smirk. "Maybe she needs a reminder of her place, Sera. An angel meddling in matters beyond her station is dangerous."

Sera nodded in agreement, her eyes narrowing as she regarded Emily. "You need a lesson in obedience and understanding your limitations. I warned you." As the tension escalated, Emily felt an invisible force constricting around her. The air grew heavy with the weight of the impending decision. Before she could react, Sera gestured with a motion that seemed almost casual, but it carried the weight of divine authority.

In an instant, a celestial blade materialized in Sera's hand. The ethereal glow of Emily's wings dimmed. The celestial appendages, symbols of her divine status, were now marked for sacrifice. The room echoed with a profound silence as Sera, with unwavering determination, brought the blade down, severing Emily's six wings from her back in one sweep.

The pain was immediate and intense. Emily's celestial connection shattered, leaving her grounded and stripped of the divine grace she had once embodied. The severed wings, now reduced to mere stumps, fell away from Emily. Emily felt a searing agony that eclipsed any physical torment she had ever known. It was as if a part of her essence had been violently torn away, the divine connection that once bound her to the heavens now shattered. The room resonated with her screams, golden blood falling to the floor from her back. The room bore witness to a sacrifice that transcended the physical, a reminder that even celestial beings were not immune to the consequences of defiance.

She looked up to Sera, her only family, desperation and disbelief etched across her celestial features. "Sera, no, please. This isn't who we are. This isn't what Heaven's supposed to be."

Sera remained out of reach, an unyielding pillar of coldness that Emily had recently witnessed far too often. The familial warmth that had once defined their connection was now replaced by an icy resolve. The celestial bond they shared seemed to wither in the face of Sera's unwavering determination.

"Emily," Sera's voice carried a hint of stern finality, "sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. Your impulsive actions have consequences, and I cannot allow our realm to be jeopardized by individual desires."

And then she was falling backward, expelled from the celestial heights of Heaven, plummeting through the cosmic expanse until she breached the boundaries of the Pride Ring of Hell. The transition from the divine to the infernal was swift and disorienting, as the once serene and radiant Emily found herself cast into the fiery abyss.

Chapter 12: Stitching Shadows

Summary:

Alastor stiches himself up and learns that Lucifer has become a more permanent presence at the hotel.

Chapter Text

In the remnants of his old tower, Alastor meticulously tended to his wound with an air of composed detachment. His overcoat had a large gash through the middle. It was evident that a visit to his tailor would soon be in order. He peeled away his torn overcoat, revealing the wounded canvas beneath. The pained smile that played on his lips betrayed the discomfort that lingered beneath the surface. Each wince, a silent acknowledgment of his wound.

"To falter in the face of adversity is for the weak. This chest wound is a testament to the frailty of the flesh. Let the pain fuel your performance, Alastor, for the greatest act is yet to come," he crooned in the crackling static of a vintage radio, his voice weaving through the airwaves like a haunting melody.

Gritting his teeth within the confines of his ever-present smile, Alastor proceeded to shed his blood-stained red button-down shirt with a deliberate, slowness. The torn fabric clung to his injured chest he picked the remnants of cloth out of his wound. Holding the remnants of his broken microphone before him, he summoned a surge of power. The strained exertion was palpable, his usually seamless composure momentarily giving way to the laborious effort. Barely managing to conjure his suture kit, the radio demon fought through the gasps for breath that escaped his lips.

"Fuck"

Alastor's fingers, delicately probe the wound as he grits his teeth in a pained smile. The torn edges of the flesh are visible he can't remember the last time he saw his own flesh in this state. With meticulous precision, he cleans the blood away, revealing the raw contours of the injury. As he starts the stitching process, the needle weaves through the damaged skin easily. Each careful movement is met with a stifled gasp. The thread, a stark red against the paleness of his skin, creates a pattern of closure, binding the wound.

Yet, the cut's depth challenges even demonic healing. Alastor's usual certainty wavers as he contemplates the uncertainty of recovery. The rhythmic motion of the needle feels comforting as he pieces himself back together. As he tightens the final stitch, a lingering question hangs in his mind, "How long will it take this wound to heal?"

He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to regain composure. He slinks back into the shadows a detached spectator observing the ongoing chaos at a safe distance. His eyes, usually alight with amusement, now carry a flicker of fury. Lucifer's intervention sparks conflicting emotions within him — a resentment for needing assistance and an unspoken frustration with the chains that bind him.

A delighted chuckle escapes Alastor's lips, his ever-present grin widening as he observes Nifty's bloodlust unfold. Her unanticipated and amusing killing of Adam elicits a gleeful response from the radio demon. The chaos, violence, and unpredictability of the scene align perfectly with his own twisted sense of amusement.

He is relieved... happy? No content there are not that many casualties by the end of the battle. He has a certain satisfaction as the casualties are minimal, sparing him the arduous task of seeking new souls to replace Niffty and Husk. However, the remaining residents band together to rebuild, a process that gains unexpected momentum with the timely assistance of Lucifer. As the dust settles and the atmosphere stabilizes, Alastor seizes the opportunity to change into a new, clean outfit.

He steps out of the shadows and Charlie flings her arms around his shoulders causing him to wince. "Alastor! I thought... I almost thought that you had..." Tears well up in her eyes at just what she thought may have happened. "Oh of course not my dear! It will take more than that for this demon to go down." He smiles wider meeting Lucifer's gaze behind her. "Unfortunately" Lucifer growls and hugs Charlie from behind as she hugs Alastor. Thankfully not touching Alastor. They shoot glares from over Charlie's shoulder. Charlie ducks down to get out from between them. "Okay, I think I am good on hugs!" Lucifer almost crashes into Alastor who sidesteps him and he stumbles before catching himself.

Nifty crawls up his back placing her cheek on the top of his head. "I'm glad you're back Sir." Alastor seems to smile a bit wider. "So it has been a long day. We all have done well I am just so proud of you. I love you all." Charlie's voice was thick with emotion. "I know that you all live here and I want to welcome our newest resident Cherri Bomb who everyone knows already." Angel Dust jokingly hits Cherri Bomb's shoulder with a smirk. "Weeeeell I have an idea! The hotel hasn't been rebuilt all the way so we should do a sleepover! In the lobby since it is already done! We can get the rooms and everything furnished and up to standards tomorrow." Husk grumbles "Can't your dad just conjure up furniture?" "YES! But he has already done a lot and this gives us a chance to work through everything together!" Charlie smiles but it Alastor knows a fake smile when he sees one. She is barely keeping it together. Vaggie places a hand on her shoulder which Charlie leans her head into. "All right then its settled! We are having a sleepover! This is mandated bonding time!" Vaggie yells.

As Husker reluctantly yielded to the idea, Alastor's annoyance simmered beneath his ever-present grin. His hopes for someone to oppose the decision faded, not wanting to be seen in his current state of recovery. With a subtle sigh masked by his radio-demon charm, he steps into the hotel, aiming to effortlessly slink back into the shadows. The desire for solitude and a swift recovery was his only goal.

Lucifer notices "Where are you going?" Which of course alerts Charlie. Lucifer smirks. "Al where are you going arent you going to be part of the sleepover?" "Actually, my dear I was thinking that I could just sleep in the tower tonight and let you all have your fun." Alastor tries to shrug off her concern his eye twitching slightly.

Charlie's tone changes "Are you okay?" her large eyes filled with concern as she glances down his chest.

His eyes follow her gaze to a crimson stain blooming on his shirt, seeping through the fabric. "OF course I am my dear!" He pats her head his smile unwavering. "Let me just get ready for the fun evening you have planned." "Okay..." Her voice accepts but trails off showing her apprehension.

With Alastor granted the liberty to depart, he gracefully melds into the shadows, becoming one with the inky darkness as he retreats to the sanctuary of his tower. The ambient whispers of his shadow envelop him, guiding his silent passage. Back in the tower, he examines his wound again. The stitches were still in place. Alastor meticulously re-binds his chest with layers of gauze. Adorning himself in a sleep set, Alastor selects a deep red velvet smoking coat from his wardrobe. The luxurious fabric drapes over his form, a stark contrast to the dark aesthetic of his domain. As he ties the tassel belt around his waist, the sensation of pressure serves as both a fashionable accessory and a desperate attempt to further tie himself together.

He takes a deep sigh acceptance of the bonding activity that he expected to participate in. Typically, Charlie excludes him from these attempts at fostering closeness. However, deep down, he acknowledges that he can't afford to leave Lucifer alone with Charlie. Such a situation could potentially complicate matters for him in ways he'd rather avoid. He needs to keep her close. He reemerges in the hotel lobby, taking in the transformation that has occurred. The once-formal space has turned into a soft, plush area for sleep. A comforting fire crackles in the fireplace, casting a warm glow across the room. An extravagant arrangement of pillows and blankets adorns the floor, each guest adorned in their sleepwear. Seating himself against a distant wall, he observes the complex web of relationships that has woven itself during his absence. Angel and Husk appear particularly close, situated by the fire with Cherri on Angel Dust's other side. Yet, an air of somberness pervades the atmosphere. The recent victory is tinged with the loss of Sir Pentious, weighing on the residents. Charlie flits between individuals, her concern evident as she checks on each person. Vaggie and Angel both seemed to acquire injuries in the battle as well. Vaggie has her leg and hand both bandaged a bit of the golden blood soaking through.

"Alastor, you came back!" Charlie exclaims, sitting cross-legged in front of him. "Of course, my dear. I couldn't miss the celebration." "It's not much of a celebration." She holds her head down, a shadow of doubt lingering in her eyes. Alastor gently lifts her chin. "Remember what I told you about smiles. Now, you are our fearless leader, and we just did what people thought was impossible." He accentuates his point by widening his grin, attempting to lead by example. Charlie sighs, her spirit lifting a bit. "You're right. We can do this."

Lucifer, donning an absolutely ridiculous button-up pajama set covered in yellow rubber ducks and still wearing his top hat for extra height, strolls over. Alastor glares as Lucifer sits down next to Charlie. "And what are you both talking about?" "Oh, nothing to worry your little mind with, just hotel business!" Alastor answers. "Well, then it's my business too," Lucifer states smugly. "And what does that mean?" "Hahaha well... we have a new patron!" Charlie smiles awkwardly, using her hands to gesture to Lucifer, who is grinning widely. Alastor's ears go back. "What now?" "I am staying here at the hotel with all of you! To be more involved in my beloved daughter's life! Won't that be fun?" Lucifer squeezes Charlie around her shoulders, pulling her close as he glares at Alastor. "Yes, I am sure that will be fun." Alastor replies with a forced smile.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53741104/chapters/136370353#workskin

Chapter 9: Explosive Alliances

Cherri Bomb squinted at the bright screen of her phone, her eye adjusting to the sudden intrusion of light. She let out a low groan, shifting under the warmth of her blanket as she begrudgingly reached for her phone. The constant beeping had managed to cut through the remnants of her peaceful slumber. As she unlocked her phone, a series of urgent messages from Angel Dust filled the screen. Cherri raised her eyebrow, half-expecting some wild tales of his escapades, especially considering his involvement with Husk the previous night.

Cherri Bomb hastily dialed Angel's number back, realizing that this was real. She gets out of bed and gets ready as she talked to Angie. "Angie dear. Spill it. What's the emergency?" Cherri Bomb inquired her tone a mix of concern and readiness. "Tomorrow, the extermination got moved up. Shit is goin' down, and guess who's the star of the show? Our beloved Hazbin Hotel." "Wait, why? The Extermination? Are you pullin' my leg?" Cherri questioned, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "I wish, babe. The Heaven fucker's got some big, bad plans, and we're on the hit list. Things are about to get messy, and I don't mean my kinda messy." Cherri Bomb's eye narrowed. "Alright, Angie. I'm in. You know I'm always down as long as I get to have you on my team." "It's the real deal. Pack your explosives. We're gonna show 'em a fireworks display they won't forget!" Angel Dust asserted confidently. Cherry hung up, a mix of concern and determination etched on her face. The Hazbin Hotel was in for a wild ride, and she was ready to bring the fire.

Cherry sighed, her plans for a swift departure thwarted by the ominous arrival of an all-too-familiar steampunk airship casting its shadow over her.

Bloody hell, not now. She quickly grabbed a nearby box already filled with explosives, slinging it over her shoulder. As she made her way outside, the airship descended, revealing Sir Pentious and his eccentric ensemble. "Ssssalutations, Cherry Bomb! I'm here to bring you and your handy explosives back to the hotel," Sir Pentious announced, attempting to sound confident but failing to hide the nervous excitement in his voice. Cherry Bomb rolled her eye at the over-the-top greeting. "Alright, edge lord." She shoved the box into him, causing him to double over momentarily before grasping the heavy box and regaining his composure. He huffed and set it into the airship. Cherri Bomb easily took three boxes at a time, stacked on top of each other, showing her formidable strength. The Egg Boiz tried to help, bumbling into each other. They filled the airship with weapons and bombs from Cherri's formidable arsenal. "Ssso Cherri! Have you happened to have had a bite to eat yet? I made a little serpent-inspired feast back at the hotel," he hissed, trying to sound confident but failing to hide the nervous excitement in his voice. "Let's just get back to the hotel, ya?" Cherri Bomb responded her tone a mix of amusement and impatience. As the airship lifted off the ground, the gears and pistons clanked and whirred, filling the air with mechanical noises. Sir Pentious, now in a more military-styled outfit, worked with the controls at the helm. The airship journey continued with Sir Pentious awkwardly attempting small talk, occasionally stumbling over his words. Cherri Bomb, on the other hand, focused on organizing the arsenal, occasionally glancing at him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. The airship touched down at the Hazbin Hotel, and Sir Pentious, still determined, led Cherri Bomb towards the dining room. The table, adorned with a variety of dishes inspired by serpent imagery, awaited them. Cherri had never really been this far into the hotel but it wasn't as shabby as she remembered. Already at the table were Husk, Angel Dust, and Niffty.

"Cherri Bomb, my savior, you just turned this chaos into a party. Get ready for a wild ride," Angel Dust exclaimed, smiling widely at seeing her. "Angie, did you send Snakey here to pick me up?" Cherri Bomb asked, her tone laced with playful skepticism. "Seriously, babe, what was the master plan here? Hauling all those boom-booms through the city solo? You gotta admit, my way adds a bit more glam," Angel Dust added, a mischievous glint in his eye. Cherry rolled her eye. "Sssit, sssit, Cherri! Allow me to prove my culinary prowess," Sir Pentious gestured towards the table with a theatrical flair, a wide smile on his face. Cherri Bomb couldn't help but smirk, amused by the effort he had put into this peculiar setup. She took a seat, eyeing the serpent-shaped pastries and peculiar concoctions on the table. "Alright, Pentious, impress me," she challenged, her tone daring. Sir Pentious practically beamed with pride. Cherri Bomb decided to try the most harmless-looking food on the table, a cinnamon roll made to resemble a cobra. It surprised her - it was actually good. "Not bad, Pentious," she admitted, giving him a smirk. "So what's the plan?" Cherri Bomb asked, her tone shifting to a more serious note as they shared breakfast.   As if ordained Vaggie and Charlie arrived with a hoard of angelic weapons and an army of canables.  "So Angelic weapons can hurt them Pentious can you work with this?" Vaggie speaks with intention and gestures toward a large number of weapons. "Of courssse" He responds a eager grin crossing his face. 

Cherri Bomb observed from a distance, her eyes narrowing with both skepticism and intrigue. The melding of demonic ingenuity and celestial might promised a formidable combination against the impending threat. The air hummed with anticipation as Sir Pentious set to work, fusing his building expertise with the divine steel of the angelic weapons. It was an unholy alliance, a dance between opposites, and the outcome would determine the fate of their infernal battleground.

Sir Pentious, with delicate precision, began disassembling some of the angelic weapons. Cherri Bomb, still skeptical but unable to resist the allure of potential power, approached him with a raised eyebrow. "What are you playing at?" Sir Pentious chuckled, a metallic glint in his eye. "Oh, you'll love thisss. I'm extracting the essence from these heavenly trinkets to create shrapnel for your bombs. A little touch of the divine to spice up your usual chaosss." Cherri Bomb's skepticism deepened, but a smirk played on her lips. "Divine shrapnel, huh? Well, color me intrigued. But make sure it doesn't mess with my explosions. I want more bang for my buck, not some celestial light show."

Sir Pentious nodded, his focus returning to the delicate work at hand. He carefully collected the refined shrapnel, each piece glimmering with a faint celestial glow. Cherri Bomb worked alongside him adding shrapnel into a few of her bombs for testing.  Cherri Bomb smirked, nodding in approval. "Snakey, I gotta admit, Making chaos together is almost as fun as causing it." Sir Pentious laughed, the sound echoing through the makeshift workshop. 

The unlikely duo shared a moment of camaraderie, bound by their shared love for chaos and the artistry of destruction. The day continued with Cherri sparing practicing fighting with Angie and testing her bombs. Before adding shrapnel to the rest of her bombs. Before long it was the night before their stand that would take place in the morning.  The unlikely residents of the hotel and Cherri gather for drinks at the bar. The clinking of glasses resonated with the underlying current of hope that permeated the room. There was a collective understanding that they were facing a common enemy, and for this brief moment, they set aside their individual differences. As the shots flowed, so did the tales of their past, and hopes. 

Cherri Bomb saw this as an opportunity to get closer to Angel's crush. "Well, well, if it ain't the grumpiest cat in Hell. Mind if I join you, Husky?" "Long as you don't start screechin' like a banshee." Cherri Bomb chuckled, her voice carrying the carefree energy of a troublemaker. "No promises. You know, you're not as scary as you try to be." Husk shot her a skeptical glance, his feline features expressing a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "And you're not as subtle as you think." Cherri Bomb leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, about you and Angel, I like it." Husk scowled, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "He's a pain in the ass, but... he's my pain in the ass." Cherri Bomb teased, her tone playful. "Oh, we're gettin' sentimental now, huh?" Husk sighed, unsure if he should continue. "You know, I don't appreciate how loud and obnoxious you are. Drugs, alcohol, and explosions everywhere." Cherri Bomb smirked, her expression unapologetic. "Guilty as charged." Husk grumbled, a reluctant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But I respect you. You were there for Angel when I couldn't be." Cherri Bomb leaned back against the bar, her posture exuding confidence. "What's that supposed to mean?" Husk sighed, choosing his words carefully. "He was in a dark place. You pulled him out, made him laugh, gave him a reason to keep goin'." Cherri Bomb raised an eyebrow, acknowledging the weight of his words. "Look, whiskers, we all got our strengths. You might not be the life of the party, but you're a damn good friend. Angel knows that, and so do I." Husk grumbled in response but couldn't hide a small smirk at the unexpected compliment. "Don't call me Whiskers." Cherri Bomb grinned, unbothered by his gruff demeanor. "Fair enough. But you can't deny I know how to make things interesting." She raised her glass, the clink echoing through the bar. "Here's to chaos, Husk. May it keep us entertained and Hell keep burnin'." Husk clinked his glass against hers, a begrudging nod accompanying the gesture. "To chaos."

As Cherri Bomb and Husk shared a moment at the bar, Angel Dust strolled in with his characteristic swagger. Cherri couldn't resist the opportunity to add a bit more chaos to the mix. Cherri Bomb Grins "Well, well, look who decided to grace us with their fabulous presence. Angel Dust, the man, the myth, the drama queen." Angel Dust smirks "Oh, come on, Cherri. You know you missed all this fabulousness." "Missed it like a toothache." She teases back.  Husk was bored already "You two done with the circus act?" Angel Dust Leans against the bar "Aw, come on, Husky. You love the circus. Just admit it."

The night wore on, and the camaraderie among the eclectic group deepened. Cherri Bomb, with her usual fiery spirit, found herself laughing alongside Angel Dust, trading witty remarks with Husk. The pulsating energy in the air was not just from the drinks but from the unity they discovered in the face of a common threat.

"Missss Bomb? Cherri?" The hiss in Sir Pentious's voice cut through the air, carrying a mix of nervousness and sincerity. "Yeah?" Cherri Bomb glanced over, a quizzical expression playing on her face as she continued sipping on her drink. "I want to tell you that I...I love...I'd love to wish you good luck in the battle ahead." Sir Pentious's words stumbled out, his usual bravado replaced by an awkward sincerity. "Okay." Cherri raised her eyebrow, unsure of how to respond to the unexpected sentiment. "You are...have always have been a worthy opponent. With the most...brilliant explosive contraptions I've ever seen." The words seemed to catch in Sir Pentious's throat, as if he were grappling with the unfamiliar territory of expressing genuine admiration. "Uh...thanks?" Cherri Bomb responded, a perplexed look on her face, as if she were trying to decipher the unusual behavior. "Anyway, I guess...please don't die tomorrow. Okay, bye!" Sir Pentious hastily retreated, his departure marked by a hurried ascent up the stairs to his room. In the aftermath of the peculiar encounter, Angel Dust sidled up to Cherri, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he handed her a shot. "You know, you could totally tap that." Cherri rolled her eyes, dismissing Angel's comment. "Tss, don't be gross." "Cuz, you know, I hear he's got 2 dicks." Angel smirked, fully aware that such a detail might catch Cherri's attention. "Huh." Cherri's gaze drifted towards the stairs where Sir Pentious had hastily fled, a mixture of confusion and intrigue on her face.

As they eventually dispersed to their respective quarters, a renewed sense of purpose lingered. Cherri took up residence in an empty room next to Angel's. As they retired for the night, each carrying the warmth of camaraderie and the hope that their combined efforts would withstand the angelic onslaught. In the quiet moments before sleep claimed them, Cherri Bomb found herself staring at the pouch of remaining celestial shrapnel. The air was thick with possibilities, a blend of chaos and hope that hung to the Hotel, promising excitement tomorrow.

Chapter 8: Eggs-cluded Companionsss

Sir Pentious makes breakfast!

!

Chapter Text

Sir Pentious woke up in his nest of a bed surrounded by his beloved egg henchmen.

"Good mornin', my loveliesss," Sir Pentious hissed with a voice that slithered like a serpent. His sibilant tones filled the air, a blend of timidity and an attempt at grandeur. "Today'ss plan requireth precission, my dear egg boyz. Prepare yourselvesss for a day of resplendent engineering and, perchance, a touch of mayhem." Sir Pentious hissed softly to himself, his vibrant scales glinting in the morning light as he navigated the Hazbin Hotel's deserted halls. The absence of the usual bustling activity left an eerie quiet hanging in the air. As he slithered down the grand staircase, he couldn't help but notice the void left by the missing residents. "Ah, the hush of an empty nest," he mumbled in his distinct hissing voice. "It seemss my compatriots have embarked on endeavors of their own." Making his way to the kitchen, Sir Pentious decided to channel his loneliness into a grand culinary experiment. Pots and pans clanged together as he concocted an elaborate breakfast, hissing out commentary to his egg boiz. "Today, we prepare a feast fit for serpent royalty! A culinary masterpiece to rival the most decadent of delights!" His agile tail expertly maneuvered ingredients, adding a dash of theatrics to the cooking process. Sir Pentious surveyed the kitchen. The egg boiz, his loyal henchmen, eagerly awaited his command, their large eyes fixed on their serpentine leader. A peculiar moment of hesitation struck Sir Pentious as he glanced towards the fridge, where a carton of eggs rested. For a brief moment, his eyes lingered on the oval-shaped objects, and a subtle conflict played out in his expressive gaze. After a thoughtful pause, Sir Pentious decided to forgo the use of the eggs. "Today, my dear egg boiz, we shall craft a feast that celebrates life without the use of our namesakes," he declared with a theatrical sweep of his tail, gesturing towards an assortment of non-egg-related ingredients. The egg boiz, though slightly bewildered, bumbled their approval, ready to assist in any culinary endeavor their eccentric leader embarked upon. The kitchen soon echoed with the clatter of utensils and the aromatic symphony of Sir Pentious's culinary exploits. Sir Pentious made Serpentine Sourdough Toast, Artisanal sourdough bread slices toasted to a perfect crunch, shaped like sinuous serpents. Served with honey. Slithering Smoothie Bowl with real moving fruit! And Cobra Coil Cinnamon Rolls, Soft and fluffy cinnamon rolls coiled into the shape of cobra snakes, drizzled with icing. However, as the aromatic symphony of his culinary creation wafted through the hotel, the absence of the usual banter and laughter became even more pronounced. Sir Pentious couldn't shake the feeling of solitude that lingered like a specter in the once lively hotel. His eyes caught the vacant seats that once held the familiar faces of Angel Dust, Husk, and the others. With a dramatic sigh, he decided to embrace the solitude, opting to dine alone. The table, usually bustling with life, now bore only the elaborate breakfast he had prepared for his absent companions. "Alone, yet surrounded by the remnants of camaraderie," he mused, his hissing voice echoing softly in the empty room. As he indulged in his culinary creation, Sir Pentious contemplated.

A sudden burst of activity entered the dining hall as Niffty, the embodiment of chaos, darted about in pursuit of a roach. The elusive insect danced just out of reach but with a swift and masterful strike, Niffty finally cornered her tiny adversary, impaling it skillfully with a sewing needle that seemed comically large in her small hand. A triumphant grin adorned her face as she addressed the deceased bug, reveling in her victory.

"HAHAHA, got you! You thought you could escape me," she declared with glee, her voice resonating with the delight of a successful hunt. She expertly stowed the conquered bug into her pocket. Sir Pentious, noticing the sudden burst of activity, turned his serpentine gaze toward the energetic Niffty. "Ahh, Niffty, how delightful to see someone, anyone," he hissed, his long tail flicking in a gesture of animated welcome. Niffty, her eyes gleaming with mischievous energy, twirled around and noticed Sir Pentious in all his snakelike glory. She grinned, her needle held aloft like a triumphant trophy.

"Heya! What's cooking? Or rather, what's hissing?" Niffty's high-pitched voice echoed through the hall as she approached, her chaotic aura leaving a trail of whirlwind behind her.

"I've made sssome food! Pleasse help yourself." As Niffty happily accepted the invitation, Sir Pentious gestured with a flourish of his tail towards the elaborate breakfast spread. The once lonely dining area now buzzed with a unique blend of chaos and serpentine sophistication. The duo, an unlikely pair of demons, settled into the vibrant morning routine that Sir Pentious had longed for. The clinking of cutlery and the occasional hiss of approval created a more lively atmosphere than the egg boiz could have given Pentious alone. A glowing portal opened in the main lounge the yellow ring that looked as if it was on fire showed the glimpses of the angelic presence beyond. The ethereal gateway pulled Charlie and Vaggie into the hotel feet first, depositing them flat on the floor. Charlie in a moment of anger hit the floor with her hand. "SHIT!" she exclaimed, the echo of her vexation resonating through the room. Vaggie, quick to recover, rose to her feet and extended a helping hand to Charlie. However brushed off the offer, choosing to stand on her own. The air crackled with tension. "Welcome back I made breakfasst if you would like ssome?" Sir Pentious says hesitantly.

Shadows and Silk

Chapter 2: Shadows and Silk

Summary:

Angel's point of view the next morning.

Chapter Text

Angel awoke the next morning, his limbs heavy with the weight of yesterday's shoot. Valentino had pushed the boundaries again, testing new kinks on camera. While it wasn't the weirdest thing he'd endured, it felt like Valentino was pushing harder, especially after Charlie's visit to the studio. Fat Nugget nuzzled against his face, a comforting distraction from the memories that threatened to engulf him.

"Good morning my baby." He coos rubbing his face against the cute pig. Fat Nugget was the only good Valentino ever gave him. With a deep sigh, Angel stretches and the memory of the previous day enters his mind. He realizes Husk is not with him. His heart sank a bit as he was kind of hoping his friend had stuck around. He knows he asked a lot the previous night. Doubt circles his mind... did he push the boundaries too far? Last night was the best he had slept in a long while. He can't deny that Husk had a calming presence on him, one that was unique to him alone. Angel checks his phone and realizes that he already has missed messages from Valentino. Thankfully they aren't voicemails... Those tend to be a bit more deranged. He actively ignores them even as his heart sinks seeing the message previews for his shoot tomorrow. With his face possibly still being swollen they will be doing more close-up body shots tomorrow. He relaxes at the realization that at least he doesn't have to go in today. Then the smell hits him... He didn't shower last night and the scent of the previous day floods his senses as he sees the still incoming messages from Val. His stomach lurches and he runs to the bathroom retching up whatever was in his stomach from last night... so some fluids. He wipes his face and takes a hot shower. Running scented soap and conditioner through his fur until it was back to its usual softness. Then a thorough brushing of his teeth. Then the face routine cleanser, serum, and some well-placed makeup to hide his swollen eye. A knock at his door surprised him.

"One Sec!" he yelled from the bathroom slipping on a robe and opening the door. By the time the door was open, there was no one there. But on the floor was a tray with a plate of pancakes and a glass of water. His heart fluttered at the gesture. He was starving and his stomach growled at the smell of the pancakes that now filled the air. He brought the food into his room and ate his breakfast, sipping on his water. He scrolled through Voxtagram liking Cherry Bombs photos from her night out before. He decided to take a picture of his beloved pig Fat Nugget who was now begging for food, posting it on Voxtagram after some color correction captured a moment of normalcy. After eating his food and drinking his water he felt refreshed getting on his normal pink and white striped outfit, black shorts, and long gloves. He felt more like himself... Almost like yesterday never happened. He smiles at Fat Nugget who is eagerly cleaning the remnant of his plate and heads downstairs. By this point, it is well into the afternoon and his favorite bartender Husk is already at the bar.

"Hey Babe were you the one who made me breakfast this mornin? If I didn't know any better I would guess you were sweet on me." Angel suggests with a smirk. The cat demon grumbles and bristles at Angel's flirting but responds. "Charlie made breakfast I just brought you some." Angel didn't actually think Husk had but the fact that he brought it up to his room made him feel better about Husk's sudden absence this morning. Angel leans provocatively across the bar his chest fluff well in view of Husk's gaze.

"I was worried when you were gone this morning. And here I was hoping for a snuggle." Angel's stage persona dripped with lust and as normal Husk did not appreciate the act. But Angel noticed a slight blush form on Husk's cheeks catching Angel off guard. "Truly... Thank you again Husk for last night. I'm sorry if I did something wrong." Angel crosses his arms around himself in this moment of vulnerability. Husk's brow furrows and Angel finds himself with a cocoon of warmth around him. He doesn't know when Husk left the bar but the hug is sudden but so comforting. He smells Husk's scent of whiskey and cigars. So different from Vals and the fucks he works with. He feels secure in this moment. Husk's gravely voice cuts through any doubt Angel felt.

"You did nothing wrong."

Chapter 1: Tangled Hearts and Empty Glasses

Start of my fanfic that's already on AO3 was told to cross post here!

I have never been on Tumbler before so please let me know if there is a better format to post these!

Husk was tending the bar as usual... Almost as usual. It had been a week since he had seen under Angel's mask and found out they were more similar than he thought. As much as the spider annoyed him, now he found that... he cared. Husk couldn't believe it himself, caring for someone, especially Angel Dust of all demons, was beyond his imagination. The annoyance had shifted, and now a genuine concern knotted his stomach. He mused on how his life had changed. From selling his soul to Alastor. Alastor's seven-year hiatus to being dragged to bartend the hotel. From an Overlord to a lone bartender to someone who worried about someone's well-being.

As he polished the glass for the tenth time, Husk's forehead creased with worry lines. The tension in his neck betrayed the turmoil within as he prepared himself for another long night, not just for him but also for Angel. 2:00 AM so that was a fourteen-hour day that Angel has had so far. He couldn't help feeling worried. He knew that Angel Dust could take care of himself... But being there to help him pick up the pieces had turned into a routine in itself. He wiped down the same counter he had already wiped down a countless number of times and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Angel ended up coming home about an hour later. Husk sipped his drink when Angel staggered in. Angel sat down at the bar. His right eye was swollen, his outfit ruffled and as always a persistent weariness surrounded him. Husk makes him a pink cocktail with extra cherry liquor, extra sweet like Angel likes him. There is a silence between the two. Comfortable and telling. Angel knows that this is later than Husk would ever stay up on his own and Husk knows that Angel is secretly grateful to have someone waiting up for him to make sure he is okay. Husk clears his throat "You okay?"

Angel responds with a playful smirk on his face easing back into his stage persona on instinct. "You know I can handle whateva comes my way" A flirty wink accompanies his response.

Normally Husk would give Angel shit for going back into his persona... But after seeing through it, it was almost reassuring to see him sliding into it now. A mask for the pain as it is.. Husk knows better than most that dealing with pain is different for everyone. More time passes in silence both of them nursing their drink. Husk glances over at Angel trying to assess the injuries he can see from here. He saw Angel before he left for work. And he can tell there is a black eye forming, his skin is paler than usual and the hand gripping his cocktail is shaking.

"Thanks, Whiskers, I mean it." Angel goes to rise from the bar but is uneasy on his feet. Husk is there ready for it. It wasn't uncommon for Angel to pass out on the couch downstairs when he was drunk or too injured to get to his room. But since Husk had started staying up, waiting for him to get home Husk had been helping him to bed. A long day like this full of god knows what and no food... lightheadedness was not.. uncommon. Husk supports Angel from under one of his arms.

"Hey, I got ya legs." Angel quickly recovered but Husk continued supporting him as they made it upstairs to his room. A snort greets them as the door to Angel's room opens. The neon pink mood lighting adds to the dreamy atmosphere that Angel has curated for himself. Fat Nuggets hops up on the bed ready to snuggle with Angel from the moment he lays on the bed. Husk eases him down to the bed. Husk looks back at Angel as he goes to leave the room. Angel's eyes are large and glossy. A pit in his stomach sinks as he looks at Angel.

"Please... can you just stay here with me for a sec?" Angel's request rings with Husk not sure what he can do at the moment he sits on the edge of the bed. Normally after a rough day, Angel would vent about Valentino, or the other 'clients' he was forced to interact with. The air thickened in the room as they sat in silence. Husk's mind raced, wondering what made today different for Angel. It wasn't the usual venting and the unspoken tension made the atmosphere heavier than ever before.

"What can I do?" Husk sighs feeling foolish... how can he help in this situation?

"Just stay for a sec." Angel replies. The worry in Husk's gut intensified, but the tone Angel used left him with no choice. Sitting on the bed, Husk sighed, realizing he was being drawn into something deeper than just a routine. Not unwanted but surprising. Husk sighs and leans back on the bed. Fat Nuggets cuddling in between the two of them. One of Angel's hands reaches Husk's hand resting on the bed. Another one of his hands pets Fat Nugget. Despite himself Husk starts to relax. Angel's breathing deepens, and the two drift off together.