For @umbravirtus -- Because Clearly, None Of Us Actually Love Hans Enough To Like, Not Torture Him When

for @umbravirtus -- because clearly, none of us actually love Hans enough to like, not torture him when given the opportunity. and btw, for anyone who does not want to see a non-Hellaverse guest muse on here (Eris Vanserra, from ACOTAR), you can blacklist his tag, I will be sure to use it on all of his replies <3

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"We caught this one in the northwoods, High Lord," one of the guards said, bowing deeply as they brought their prisoner forward.

Eris Vanserra did not immediately acknowledge them. He had heard them, but he was occupied with the way a courtier was whispering into his ear. The woman had been trying to get his attention for months, and he was fairly certain she was one of Azriel's little spies, doubtless instructed to play at being thoughtless in order to get close. He had ignored her all this time, but with the Harvest Festival approaching, it seemed best to just deal with her. If she thought he really was listening, well, that was unfortunate for her. Things were tenuous at best these days--not just in the lands of his Court, but all throughout the fae realm--and his patience was wearing thin. Still, he let her whisper, let her lean in close, let her perfume fill his senses--then waved a dismissive hand at her.

Her teeth clicked, she shut her mouth so quickly. Eris smirked, not even kind enough to bother hiding it. He was in a mood these days, and saw no reason to pretend otherwise. Having recently taken over as High Lord, it felt like he was constantly dancing along the edge of a knife. It would be nice to have a distraction, and apparently one had just arrived.

Stepping down from the dais, he walked towards the handsome human prisoner. As he moved, Eris seemed to gleam; the grand hall was full of firelight, torches and candles everywhere, glittering on the gold and gems worked into his clothing--robes of a rich red silk, exquisitely layered and cut to reveal shades of copper and gold underneath, a living flame. And although his crown seemed to be made of nothing more substantial than red maple leaves, it was undeniably a crown.

One who walked the way Eris did, with his poise and confidence, with a cruelly interested gleam in his golden eyes, needed little else to indicate his position, his power.

"A human," he observed, laughing softly. Hans's hands were chained behind himself, although it seemed an unnecessary step. What was the human going to do? The fae lord smiled, his features sharp and lovely, his long hair softer and lovelier still--and touched a fingertip to Hans's chest.

Immediately, the man's clothing began to smolder and burn, but the High Lord only smiled, meeting the human's eyes.

"You have, oh, twenty seconds before the flame moves through you, into your heart. Tell me what I need to know about you, human: do you offer yourself to me? Or will you be yet one more problem for me to deal with? I have several executions planned for this evening." The words elicited a rustle of surprise from the dozens of fae who had already gathered, but the High Lord gave them no notice. "It will not trouble me to add you to that list."

"You haven't? That's too bad. Cause I don't even know you," Blitz stretched, getting comfortable, "but I'd probably put you on a list. Hot chair guy, something like that." The imp was tired, his body pleasantly limp after an absurdly long and hard day, and draping himself over someone felt incredible. Granted, draping himself over an absolute stranger who may or may not want him there was questionable at best, but it sure felt nice.

Choosing not to worry about it, Blitz closed his eyes and leaned his head back over the man's shoulder, tucking his horns in comfortably against his back.

"So. If we're gonna cuddle," as if it wasn't all Blitz's ridiculous doing, "you gonna tell me your name? Mine's Blitz--the O is silent."

@doublejango

"Means you might be a little sus," Blitz said, hopping directly into the guy's lap, "but someone thinks you're fucking doable."

"Luckily I haven't seen my name anywhere, yet." He chuckles watching as the imp climbed on his lap. It did kind of catch him off guard though he didn't object.

DJ just leaving this to let you know you are incredible

sshhhh, come here, i love you friend. mine now <3

That had Blitz laughing, despite the momentary pause at how Fizz pushed him down. Fuck, his friend was hot. Blitz was trying, really fucking trying these days, not to notice how attractive his friend was, but sometimes? Sometimes, that shit was just difficult. Fizz had that magical quality, something warm and positive, that nobody could emulate, and that could never just be taken.

Admiring him, Blitz smiled when Fizz kicked his feet in the air. It was good to be friends, he thought. Because no matter how hot Fizzarolli might be? Being his friend felt like the best damn thing in the world. Blitz didn't want anything more from him. It was fun to be with him, fun with they flirted without meaning a thing--and sure, maybe it wasn't fun to come here after a party like Verosika's, but so what? Fizz had become the sun and melted his tears away, it seemed.

"Come on," he said, smirking and getting his phone out, as they talked about stolen sex toys. "This is Hell. You're telling me there's not a market for used sex toys? I bet..." A bit of Voogling, and then he found it. "Ha! There it is. Black market used sex toy pop-up sale, by invitation only. Apparently, you have to go through some kind of poker game to get an invite... whaddya think? Should we--ewwwuh, it says guaranteed not washed. That's... you know, I'm open to a lot of shit, and even I think that's disgusting.

"Wanna go to the used toy market, see if we spot any of your missing inventory? Might be a way to get a lead on who your thieves are."

" Life fucking sucks sometimes " Fizz added with a chuckle " But hey, it makes one stronger doesn't it " Fizz wasn't sure what Blitzo had been through. Only having a vague Idea. Ultimately, both were left alone eventually, left to fend for themself. All because of a lie.

"Nah, only if I want to " partly teasing, partly true. If you're his friend? Yeah sure. To most sane fans too. But it is not the same as when he was young - he wouldn't just give this luxury to everyone anymore.

Fizz had one arm curled around Blitz, stroking his back, the other hand patted the other Imp's head before his hand slows want to stroke his horns. " No need to apologize, pal "If anything, Fizz was glad Blitz still felt so comfortable around him. Blitzo always tried to be the strong one, even when they were younger - Fizz doubted Blitzo changed much in that aspect.

A grin came across the jester face, before starting to push Blitzo down on the couch, laying down next to him. Kicking his feet into the air. " haha ! Sure sounds like an idea! But it honestly the standard shit you get in most stores here, not even the luxury shit." there was a shrug " Not like its much of a lose " it was, just not for Ozzie and FIzz to worry much about " not like we can sell it anymore even if we get it back "

"It's just funny to think about someone who was this desperate to get released" he chuckled.

While he was working anywhere else in Vee Tower, or even just walking from one public space to another, Vox always strived for perfection, to put out exactly the right image and energy at exactly the right time. He was always aware of his image, aware that anyone could be watching, and that everyone’s eyes, down to the tiniest messenger imp’s, were still eyes. If he was anywhere but in their living quarters, Vox was always On.

But when he wasn’t in what he considered to be the public eye? When he just wanted to enjoy a quiet evening of… well, of more work, sure, but a quiet evening? And this happened?

He looked up from the ledger he’d been writing in, holding the large book open on his lap, curled up in the corner of his plush leather couch. Vox’s quarters were almost brutally minimal compared to Valentino’s or Velvette’s, but to him, the rooms were perfect. Comfortable, calming, exactly what he wanted them to be. He didn’t put much in there in the way of furniture or decor, nor did he entirely stick to mid-century modern despite what some might expect… but one thing he hadn’t put in there was Angel’s noise. It was unwelcome. Extremely unwelcome.

Cranky, tired, and frustrated that he’d now been interrupted in the middle of what was to him a fairly important task, Vox capped his fountain pen, set the ledger aside, and stretched, moving slowly and casually as he listened to Angel throwing his little diva tantrum. Whatever had caused it was probably Val’s fault somehow, he thought (unkindly, but with a dark amusement), and he usually left the two of them to themselves. He never watched Angel when he was out and about, never spied on him in his living space, never intruded on whatever it was that Angel and Valentino had unless Val specifically asked him to check in. Not that he was jealous, of course. It wasn’t like Angel Dust got to put his hands and lips all over Valentino in ways Vox would love to feel so free to do. Ha. What a thought. No, he just didn’t care what happened to Angel Dust. He really didn’t. Absolutely didn’t. He didn’t care. At all. Not even a little.

He definitely didn’t protest too much, even to himself. Ha.

Having thought he was in for the night, Vox was dressed down far more than he liked to be when he was going to be around anyone else, but there was just so much noise happening and he was so irritated, he didn’t want to go put proper attire on. So, still in his slacks, shirt unbuttoned to reveal a snug, sleeveless undershirt, tie still hanging undone to either side, he just grabbed a drink and made his way in to go do some bothering of his own.

Vox let himself in to Angel’s room, watched the flying objects for a moment–then overrode every little possible speaker Angel possessed so they amplified Vox’s own speakers as he started projecting sound effects and a laugh track. Squeaky clown bonk noises when something hit a wall, an audience cracking up at exactly the wrong moment, a peppy little musical number to code the scene as comedy. Whether or not Valentino chose to grace them with his beautiful presence, Vox was here and annoyed and going to at least amuse himself.

“Having fun? You know, Val actually has to pay for all of that.” Folding his arms, he leaned back against the wall. “And while we’re at it. Who the fuck put their hands on you?” He tried to ask it like he didn’t care, hidden under a facade as if there was no actual concern whatsoever. Like he wasn’t seething a little. Angel might not be his, but goddamn it, he was theirs. Their person, their property. Theirs. Whoever the fuck thought they could get away with beating the tar out of Angel Dust was going to become tar.

[kicking it over to @hellmxses ! ]

With how long he had been living in the V Tower, they would all be used to his little outbursts. They weren’t nearly as bad as Valentinos, at least if one were to ask him personally, but he was still known for having little temper tantrums every now and then. Which was exactly what was happening right now. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be going out on his own more than he needed; or more so more than was allowed. Valentino had definitely cracked down after Anthony Angel Dust had signed the contract. But there was no way he wasn’t going to have a little fun himself, cause a little chaos.

Which had been exactly what had put him in such a bad mood. Because causing chaos often came with chaos being directed towards him as well, and that part he didn’t like – especially when it wasn’t fun. By the bloody arm and split lip, that was proof it wasn’t fun. Angel was a skilled gunsman, he usually didn’t allow himself to get hit, but those mobsters had really caught him off guard.

Which was exactly why he was throwing a tantrum. He hated feeling like he was losing in any way, slamming the door to their shared living space was bit too hard before storming up to the penthouse. Even though he naturally mostly stayed in Valentino’s space, he was glad he had his own as well – Val probably was, too, considering how many people he brought home. And there was Vox, of course. And Velvette. He wasn’t dumb.

So to his room he went, and anyone that was remotely within ear shot would hear the way things smashed against his walls. It wasn’t like Val wouldn’t help him replace the expensive makeup, the perfumes, everything else. Fat Nuggets wasn’t even phased, curled up in the middle of the luxurious sheets as his momma cussed and yelled, mostly in Italian of course, finally having got out his annoyance in the form of rage enough to calm down – but only after his room was in shambles.

@doublejango // @hellmxses

Although from some people, being patted on the head might feel offensive, or make Blitz grumbled, he closed his eyes and pressed his head up against Deadpool's hand when he did it. This guy, something about him just always, always set the imp at ease. He cherished him and trusted him, and maybe he was an idiot for that, but it felt good to trust someone. It felt good to be touched, so easily and gently, and he knew that if he ever could? He would do anything it took to help this guy.

"Honestly? I've been better," Blitz admitted, rubbing his cheek on Wade's arm as they headed into the building. "I kind of fucked everything up with my--fuck, I can't even say boyfriend. My situationship? And have been trying to deal with what a shitty asshole I am, and like, do better and shit. It's been... hard. Really hard. Having that... you know, last sense of denial ripped away, where you can't even pretend to believe in yourself anymore? It sucks." Once they were inside, he poked around, looking for any plates clean enough to set the bagels out on--there were a few different kinds of fillings, so Blitz cut all of them in half, so they could both try all of them.

"What about you? What's got you so introspective? And believe me, I am gonna do my best to stay outta your prime universe from here on out. Daredevil might not kill people, but mother-fucker he takes you goddamn close, doesn't he?"

Deadpool was having war flash backs when the Imp talked about Daredevil. He had also tried to kill that man for a bounty a few times and those few times he had gotten his ass beaten granted those were in his old days and he was more experince fighter now but, still. He shivered at the thought.

"I would love to hang out bud but, I told you stay out of my prime universe. It's shit show. It's why I left. Don't....fight anyone from there. Most them are assholes and KIND of strong. Let's eat these lunch and let me fix you up. I got some medkits at the apartment just encase." He patted the top of Blitz's head softly.

"Still thanks for coming to hang out. I am....Ok? I think. I been thinking alot of stuff lately. Been....getting treated better but, I don't know I am still struggling alot. How are you doing? And be real with me. I am not gonna judge." He spoke out as he walked Blitz into his building.