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#char/lie
instarsandcrime · 2 months
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Pride Is A Fickle Thing
Well...at least it's not just Lu/ci/fer this time?
@onetrickponi had some great prompts to offer and, since she said she might be writing them, I decided to change up a certain one a little so it turned out the same but also different! Can be read as Ra//dio//App//le or just platonic fluff! Enjoy! ❤️
Prompt: Lu/ci/fer heals A/la/stor, though it takes a great deal of expended effort on his part and it turns out both of them hate looking weak in front of other people.
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"Hp'shhzzzt!" A sharp, staticky sneeze slipped through a crack in the shadows.
Alastor wheezed as he grabbed yet another handkerchief from his collection, attempting in vain to blow away the clinging itch that stuck to him for the entire meeting. But he couldn't help it. Every single twitch of the finger, every flick of the ear, every time he even bothered to move his holy wound its poison would snake through his ribs and up to his aching head. And when it did the reaction got worse. And when the reaction got worse he couldn't help but...c-couldn't...help but…but snehhh--
"Et'chhht! TSH'ZZZZHHEW! Nnghh..." The overlord muttered out a string of curses as another wave of pain shot through him, grasping a pillar before he could double over and collapse.
“Oof, ouch! That one sounded rough." An irritatingly cheery voice chirped from nowhere in particular.
"Oh do be qui-quieehhh...Heh! Heh’eshhh't! Het'chhhzzz't!" Pressing a well-used cloth up to reddened nostrils, Alastor hurriedly straightened himself, discreetly rubbing the swarm of feathers he felt as far back as it could go.
"Bless y-- er, no, wait. That's not appropriate for someone like you, is it?" And with a golden puff of smoke he finally appeared. The six winged thorn in his side. “Fuck off? Damn you? Curse you, maybe? Mmmn no, I think you’ve already got that handled.”
"Lucifer." Alastor's ear flicked in annoyance, "What can I do for you m-my unh-huhh-holy fellow? Off t-to find some...s-some...snff! Suhh-someone to pestehhhHET'ZSCHHHH! Ghhh..."
The fallen angel winced as shrill feedback pierced the air. "Lookin' a bit sneezy there, bud. I guess even the most powerful overlords catch colds. Just goes to show that somewhere deep, deep, deeeeep down, you still have a mortal soul."
The Radio Demon chuckled, smile splitting despite the feverish beads of sweat that rolled down his neck. "On the contrary! Why, I'm the guardian angel of the Hazbin Hotel! I'm sure Charlie would agree."
Lucifer twisted the cane in his palms. “Ohoh! That definitely sounds like my little girl!”
"Agreed! She is truly a marvel. Exiling all doubts with a cheerful smile!"
"And when the hotel gets big enough, who knows? Maybe she won’t even need you anymore! She can take your place all on her own-- without the tacky bellhop suit, of course."
"Hah! Radio never truly goes out of style. Unlike...u-unlike the...the..."
"Speechless already?"
"A trifuhhh…huh! T-trifling matter, My Liege. I'm simply allergihhh...allergic to...to your bullshhHHT’SHHHhhoo...Huh'zschhh!"
"Impressive comeback. You should really--"
"'Hup’KZSSHHHT! HT'SHHH'OOooo...guhh…snff!" Worry bloomed on Lucifer’s face when his rival flashed a sliver of a wince. And as quick as it grew, Alastor rushed to crush the blossom with the wave of a hand. “Such compassion! I was wonderihh…wondering when the sin of pride would lower himself to such a weak emotion–”
“Let me see it.” 
“Pardon?”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” His patient opened his mouth, “Nope, wait, don’t answer that. Just let me see the wound.”
“Hah! How absurd! Me? Get hurt?” The Radio Demon’s voice crackled with laughter, an unseen audience following suit. “Has our poor king gone senile in his old age?”
“I–! You–!” Lucifer took a deep breath, wisps of smoke billowing from his nose. 
Inhale. Exhale. 
“Okay.”
Despite his eternal grin, Alastor’s feverish eyes blinked back confusion. “...O. Okay?”
“Okay.” The king deadpanned, hopping back a few steps. “You like making deals, right?”
“I do have other hobbies, you know.”
“Nice. I don’t care. Walk to me without sneezing once. I know you can hide the pain, but if you think holy poison will just go away, then you must either be the most stubborn man in the nine rings, or the biggest dumbass.” He paused. “Or both. If you lose, I heal you and you never have to think about Adam and his gaudy lute axe again. If you win, let’s just say that in a few more days, no one in Hell will hear another broadcast from The Radio Demon again.”
A suffocating silence fell over the two, with only the small ambience of old timey cigarette advertisements and Ella Fitzgerald to keep them company. Until finally obsidian claws drummed against the tip of a microphone.
 “...Fine.” Alastor said simply.
“Fine.” Lucifer spat back.
“A simple task, really.”
“Then stop stalling and do it, coward.” Satan flashed his pearly fangs.
A scarlet eye twitched. His opponent took a tentative step forward and the itch followed suit, fighting the urge to rub a knuckle against it.
“Having trouble there?”
“I can assure you I'm per…p-perfectly fihh-fide.” Another step. The growing tickle burned from the bridge to the tip.
“Fihhh-fidt as a fidd-fiddle.”
Almost halfway. Hold it in, hold it in.
“I'b dot as weak as y-yuhhh…you thidk…”
Through irritated tears, slit pupils studied him closely. “Uh-huh. Still don’t believe you.”
Temper beginning to flare as badly as his wound, the overlord opened his mouth to retort. But his voice was completely stolen as the itch teased the rim of his nostrils. It built and built until–
Oh, fuck it.
“Heh'SHHHHZT! Ihh-hih-Hp'SCHHH! ‘TSCHHHH'hhooo…nhhh…” The ground beneath him whirled and tilted like a merry-go-round and he was falling, falling, falling– only to be caught and dragged off the ride with unnervingly gentle hands.
“I've got you.” Lucifer muttered.
“What’s goi’g od? Why are you doi’g this?” The Radio Demon demanded as he was lifted, a body barely up to his chest not acknowledging his weight.
“Because lucky for you, I used to be a saint.” Wait…when did they get to his bathroom? When was he suddenly draped against the wall?
“You hate me." For some reason Alastor couldn’t control his shaking voice, losing the strength to fight. He sounded so disgustingly fragile. He hated it. He hated this. He hated. He. Hated.
“Oh for Heaven’s sake, shut up and let me save you already!” Lucifer swore, clicking the locks in place with the snap of his fingers. Alastor flinched when freezing hands pressed against a soaked through dress shirt and– oh.
“Oh.” 
“Yeah, no shit!” A pure light became a ripple. Then a swirl. Then a bubble. It filled every space imaginable, bathing the pair in its warm blanket. Faintly, Alastor tasted a hint of jambalaya on his tongue. And like a needle and thread to a spilled over poppet, The wound began to close.
Unfortunately, despite the subsiding agony, the holy light that caught his patient's eye did not agree with him. Wait. If angelic power hurt a demon, why was he being healed with–
“H-hhh!” Alastor’s breath hitched.
“Seriously? Now? I’m trying to work here.” Lucifer growled, almost fumbling the surgery when his concentration nearly broke. Through the haze, the overlord could glimpse familiar beads of sweat that trickled down the side of the fallen angel’s neck. 
“H-hhh…c-cad’t…h-hhhhelp it…” Between hiccuping breaths and stuttering speech, somewhere along the way a finger was pressed underneath his fluttering nostrils.
“I swear to my fucking Father.” Lucifer huffed out, blinking blearily as he continued his surgery one-handed. And before the wound closed, Alastor couldn’t help but dread at the way Lucifer’s eyelids drooped further and further, teetering between exhaustion and pain.
With two hands the healing process would have taken two minutes.
With one it took two hours. Or at least, the amount of hands was Lucifer’s excuse.
Alastor would have been more impressed if not for the fact that he was not impressed, because it was a ridiculous emotion to have for Lucifer of all beings. So instead, the next day, he chose to focus on what couldn’t heal right away.
“Het’schhzz!” Alastor pitched into his handkerchief, and Charlie quickly caught his breakfast plate before she could drop it.
“Bless you!” She breathed, clutching her chest with one hand.
Well. At least it wasn’t every five seconds.
“Thank you, my dear. Ironic as it may be.” Alastor chuckled, moving to pick up his utensils. He scanned the dining table to take in the morning rush. Angel Dust was gabbing away next to Husker, silently snatching food off his plate with his lower pair of arms. Vaggie was taking a sharpening stone to her spear between bites of food, softening when her princess veered the corner to give a quick peck on the lips. Sir Pentious was waving his spindly hands about, excitedly explaining the inner workings of his ‘flying machine’ to Niffty, who was absolutely more interested in the bug crawling on his top hat.
Overall a peaceful morning. Too peaceful. It unsettled him that there was one piece missing–
Ah. Out of the corner of his eye a small, white rat slowly crawled across the carpet. One with chubby, cherub cheeks. Fur mussed. Bags under its button eyes. A golden flush dotting his face, glowing like a firefly. And then suddenly everything clicked.
The lack of a wound or poison, but still feeling a fading tickle. The shared symptoms between them. Lucifer hadn’t just been exhausted that night. He hadn’t just healed him. Oh no, the bastard just had to take the holy poison for himself knowing that a half-holy body would survive. Though it was obvious he was equally– oh, what was that saying Rosie was kind enough to teach him– ‘going through it’. The fact that he would even risk inhaling a drop for someone he hated so much…
Hm.
Well, Alastor decided to himself, It would be remiss of him to not repay the favor. So with all the mercy of a heartless overlord, he kicked the stupid rat as far as it could go. With a startled squeak and a puff of smoke, the King of Hell tumbled across the floor. The dining room went silent for a moment, all eyes on the sudden appearance of Lucifer Morningstar lying on his back– disheveled, dazed, and stone still.
“Oh my gosh, dad!” Charlie yelped as her father pushed himself upright– moving stiffly, Alastor noted. “I didn’t see you come in…to…” As she helped him stand, her voice trailed off. “Are you okay?”
“I second that, fer the record.” Angel Dust waved a fork nonchalantly in the air, “Kingy’s always an early riser. What gives?”
“Worrywarts, aren’t they?” Lucifer jolted as Alastor popped up beside him with a screeching static, suddenly inches apart. His smirk widened as he tilted his head with a little, high pitched ‘hm!’ “I must say, I can’t help but feel the same. Your regal features look a bit. Oh, what’s the word?” He motions to his own face with a dramatic flourish. “Off-color.”
Lucifer’s glare broke when he put a hand up to his cheek. Then another, eyes growing wide as teacup saucers. It didn’t help when embarrassment overtook his feverish blush, brightening with the panic. “H-hah!” He chuckled nervously, summoning his top hat to tug the brim over his face. “W-wouldja look at that? Guess I fell asleep at the ol’ workshop again and I ran my power a little too– …t-too hot…” He sniffed sharply, rubbing at his nose.
“How uncouth.” Alastor circled the man like a ravenous beast. “Quite unlike yourself to be in such a state. Maybe you should be a little more honest. I can even give you a push.”
“Wh-whhhat are you–”
With a single poke of his cane Lucifer stumbled, grimacing in pain. And it only took one poke for that short-lived charade to fall apart.
“H-hehhh! No, ndo dabbit keeb idt togehh…together…”
“Your Majesty? Are you…?” Vaggie sat straighter, brow furrowed.
“Oof! That don’t look right.” Angel winced.
“Mhm.” Husk hummed into his mug of whisky.
“Oh my. The ultimate bad boy needs to be cleaned!” Niffty gasped.
“Poor thing.” Sir Pentious’s bottom lip wobbled.
“Dad?” Charlie set a hand on his shoulder. Then jumped back with a squeak as the single touch sparked the powder keg.
“Hit’schh!” Lucifer bent at the waist, merciless fit wracking an already exhausted body. “It’schh! It’shieww! Hit’SCHIEW! Hnt’SHIEW! HET’SCHH! ‘TSHH! TCHH! Hit’SCHH’HIEW! H-hihhh…hih! Hih– HITSCHHHH’HIEW!”
The room went silent. Angel Dust whistled lowly.
“My goodness, bless you!” Alastor gaped, every movement an exaggerated performance.
“Y-you did thahhh– thadt od purpose you sohd of ahhh– hah-HATSCHHHHIEW!” The fallen king pitched forward again. When he finally surfaced he was staggering, holding his aching head. “S’rry…’bout thadt.”
Before Charlie could run to catch him Alastor tutted, summoning his shadow to steady his rival, bending its lanky limb over his forehead. “My my, you sound awful! Simply dreadful! Overworked, perhaps? Or…oh, it couldn’t be! Is the King of Hell ill?”
“Oh shudt up Alasdtor– snff! I’b dot sigk! Idt’s jus’dt–”
“Allergies?” Husk deadpanned, expression completely unimpressed.
“Allergies!” Lucifer blurted, “Nodthin’ do worry your head over. So ihhh–...hih! hit’TSCHIU! HET’CHHHIEWW! Nghh, jus’dt ledt be–”
Charlie’s grip tightened, other hand reaching for a napkin. “Don’t run! Please?”
The King of Hell froze. He couldn’t help it. He was completely powerless when it came to his little girl. His flush started to hem the edges of silverware and dusted the windows, and he decided to look anywhere but at Charlie, distracting himself with a mucky nose blow into the makeshift tissue.
“I…I guess I’ll stick around a while longer. I feel a bit dizzy, anyway.” He chuckled, trying to pretend like every word didn’t painfully scrape at his chest. But Charlie smiled brightly, and she guided him to a chair Vaggie had already pulled out for him. Stepping back to wave her hands. Go on!
Lucifer blinked back shock when the room watched, silent with bated breath. “Oh– snff! Oh, well. Um. It’s not an emergency but. But I may be thirsty–”
Zipping back and forth, Niffty slid a cup of water by his side.
“Oh! Th-thank you.” Lucifer smiled bashfully. 
The silenced thickened, group looking on expectantly. 
“...More?!”
“More.” Charlie nodded, crossing her arms. Awestruck, the hermit crumbled as his closest residents and friends fussed and fretted. All the while Alastor sat comfortably in his chair and sipped his tea, humming to the tune of a new morning.
The perfectly chaotic puzzle was complete. Just the way he liked it.
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sweetlysniffly · 1 month
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okay yall hear me out hear me out
so recently I have been YEARNING for a ch/aggie wav or fic with Charlie as the sickie but I got to thinking.
Charlie is definitely the slightly loopy sickie that tries to power through everything, but is awful at hiding being sick. Try as she might, everyone within a 50 foot radius can tell when she’s not feeling well.
So Vaggie finally gets Charlie to admit she’s got the flu and to lay down, and Charlie immediately knocks out. She forgot to tell Vaggie about her meeting with her dad scheduled for later that day, so when Lucifer ends up calling Charlie, Vaggie answers and tells him that she’s sick very casually.
You might as well have told Lucifer that Charlie’s on her death bed because he hastily responds that “HE’LL BE RIGHT OVER MAGGIE!!! TELL MY LITTLE GIRL IM COMING-“
So he arrives at the hotel and becomes an overbearing caregiver to Charlie, who is confused? Like dad when did you get here? He won’t let her get up for anything, but he also hasn’t taken care of anyone while they were sick in a long time, so he can really only do it as if Charlie was 5 years old and not a grown adult.
He’s overbearing and a little awkward. But Charlie recognizes he’s just trying to be there for her, so as exasperating as it might be to have chicken soup fed to you and have snot wiped off your face as a grown woman, she doesn’t say anything :)
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emelinstriker · 3 months
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Since Ao Lie is officially part of the team… can we see a group cuddle? Or maybe a height chart of our lovely champions? 💚💚
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I'm horrible with height charts cuz I'm inconsistent af and just roughly go by who's shorter than who, so have a new torso line-up for your champions instead. :D
Ignore the fact that I did an oopsie of doodling on the wrong canvas size DHSFNDHSFNDHFNHF I only noticed how smol they all were when I was already coloring-
Now excuse me as I go to bed cuz I only now found out my clock's batteries are starting to perish and I've just wasted more hours of sleep. :DDD
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characcoon · 9 months
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when the Hell is on Fire or smt, idk the fic doesn't exist yet-
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saglaophonos · 9 months
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i know this is crazy but my cousin works at amazon and he sent me this exclusive script excerpt from season 3? from an alternative universe where aziraphale and crowley manage to get together and work together before the end of the series and annoy everyone about it? weird idk. it's probably fake
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ftm-megamind · 1 year
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so i was clipping a character to make some gifs as per request but then i got distracted as always and
dave and jack getting up on the statue together. and doing a silly little dance together. im not okay
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monochrome-ish · 1 year
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In an Atomic Heart rut rn, grrr im so into this ship rn (SerLes) and im not sorry at all❤️❤️💖💖
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Truly the ship ever my goodness.
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charlottesweetly · 2 months
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im sorry but paul, bill, ted, and charlotte all have lactose intolerant vibes. charlotte just thinks its stress, bill assumes its Normal to have a stomach ache after eating cheese, paul is well aware of it and avoids lactose, ted will consume an entire cheese store and blow up a public bathroom afterwards with no regrets
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baldofawesome · 8 months
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some portal gijinkas or. whatever the word is!
theyre a few weeks old and i'd def want to redraw alot of these i used the same fucking pose for two characters (poses are hard ok) but i still like em. i think i jsut specifically want to redraw virgils idk why i always have trouble drawing him 💀💀💀💀
glados was there for each one bc i wanted sizing consistensy but i ended up just. forgetting to follow that so ignore her and ignore the heights of the other two sheets....
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some other art god im so tired . omg i need to make a new grady sheet omggggggg
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lord-shitbox · 1 year
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[you can repost this one w my url in the screenshot idc]
my impression of vere talking about ais: (blushing) oh hes soooo (starts gushing to himself) wait fuck off you didnt hear that
my impression of ais talking about vere: 👍 hes a real one
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instarsandcrime · 2 months
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Ha//zbin Ho//tel Prompts That I Cannot Write And Keep Me Awake at Night™
If anyone wants to give these a shot, be my guest! Otherwise, enjoy! ❤️
Charlie has a grand opening party for the public, and makes it a point that Alastor will be Lucifer's body guard for the evening so her dad will both be safe and it can also count as a friendship exercise! Perfect plan! Unfortunately, Charlie did in fact buy flowers for decorations that both demons may or may not be allergic to.
Husk and Angel have gotten far enough into their relationship that they're ready to go further! But Husk is feeling a bit insecure because Angel Dust is a huge porn star and he's an "old, washed up ex-overlord." And, sadly, it does not help that he has a cold on top of it. And on top of that, Angel Dust is wearing a perfume post-shoot that does not agree with an already-vulnerable nose.
Alternatively, Husk overcompensates with something Angel Dust is allergic to.
An hour before an important interview Vox catches a virus, and the effects are immediate. The other Vees are understandably worried and try to help the situation.
Alternatively, Alastor is advertising the hotel on his radio broadcast and brings Charlie in for a live interview. However, he struggles with a bad itch when Keke follows Charlie into the studio.
Angel Dust finds out Husk has a sneeze kink and tries to get him to admit it in subtle/unsubtle ways.
Lucifer is tentatively invited up to Heaven to discuss the whole Sir Pentious situation. Unfortunately since he's a demon, his meeting with Sera is a little rocky due to a holy object in the room.
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zensations35 · 1 month
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That recent audio you did with the cold!denial just screamssss Charlie Morningstar to me
Wait til you see what I have in the works 😈
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i think i might be a bit of a compulsive liar
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syntia13treeman · 25 days
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Case files 09.01
what I think happened in:
Case 09.01, the case of "Dice of Fate" or "Mr. Die and a very bad, horrible, no good roll."
Well well well. If it isn't an honest, good old fashioned statement. Fancy seeing it here. Not much left to puzzle out, we have it all laid out very nicely. The Dice make a comeback. When we've seen them last in nineteenth century, they were sitting pretty in the sack of the Gentleman (the mystery man in the woods, quite preoccupied with luck).
By nineteen-nineties they somehow came to be in possession of a young man named Gary. (Double meaning intended). As is their nature, the dice brought Gary luck when rolled. Good luck with high rolls, bad luck with low rolls.
Gary eventually decided that bouts of good luck were not worth the inevitable dive into misfortunes, which varied from leaky pipes to broken legs. Finding himself incapable of simply NOT rolling, he fell back on time-honoured tradition of making his problem somebody else's problem.
Somebody else, we'll call him SG (short for Statement Giver), has recently been dumped by his boyfriend Carl (CaaAAAaaarl! That hurts people!) and really needed something to cheer him up. So when an old high-school friend called to invite him over for a game night, he made his way to Gary's place in West Didsbury, where he got tricked into taking over as the Dice Bearer. The dice changed hands and SG felt it as the ownership transferred to him.
SG was much smarter about rolling that Gary had been. Just like a certain violinist before him, he figured out that he needn't be the one to pay the price for the fortune his cursed object brought him. And he figured out the system (or so he thought. He should have remembered that the House always wins, in the end). He started passing the bad-luck-rolls to random strangers on the street.
After a time, he started to also let strangers roll high. And then… well, for someone who had the gall to talk shit about D&D, SG turned out to be SUCH a nerd himself. He assembled a whole-ass Grim Dicer costume, grew a goatee, he was even doing the voice! Go you, Mr. Totally-not-a-theatre-kid! Rock that Dice King persona!
He was well on his way to becoming a full blown urban cryptid, when alas, he went too far. By chance (chance?) he run into Gary and made him (made him?) roll one last time. It was the lowest roll yet. Snake eyes. 1+1. You couldn't go lower if you tried.
It seems that the Dice did not appreciate being disposed of, and they disposed of the previous Bearer in return, with extreme prejudice, via runaway truck to the face.
After that, SG lost his nerve and tried to get rid of the Dice which… Buddy. You've just seen how that ends. What did you think would happen?
SG thought he was being smart. He gave the Dice to Magnus Institute, who, as paranormal research facility (or whatever they were known as), were bound to accept them and presumably able to handle them safely.
Too bad he believed that rolling was a matter of choice*. Too bad the Dice were still within reach when the urge hit. Too bad he died right there, at the statement giving table. RIP, statement giver (????-14.10.1998). You could have been great.
So that's that. What more to say? Let's see.
I feel quite confident in saying that SG was actively becoming a supernatural creature. That feeling of increasing disconnect from the world was not just in his head. And the rolls that he took for himself, that kept getting more and more abstract, until he couldn't tell what changed, just that something did? It was you, SG. You were changing. Such a damn shame your rise to power was cut short by your own folly.
I'm equally confident that he was unwittingly creating a brand new urban legend. I bet that at the time there were people in Manchester who'd talk in hushed whisper (or at high volume in a crowded bar) about the Grim Gambler, the Dice Devil, the Lord Luck, the Horrid Hatman. (Coincidentally, for no reason whatsoever I need somebody to draw SG in full Mr. Die costume with Alex J. Newall's face). Some would warn against touching his dice, others would swear up and down that he'd bring luck and prosperity. (Imagine the discourse at cryptid message boards!). I wonder if the legend still lives, even if SG doesn't.
*About rolling the dice, even knowing the odds… It sure as hell wasn't free choice, no sir. What was it then, compulsion, or addiction? Was that need to see the dice clutter over one's future coming from without, or within? Both options are equally appealing to me, to be honest.
The statement and the Dice were given to MI in October 1998. This means two things: a) Arguably, events surrounding death of SG could have been one of the 'weird stuff' that Sam saw with no context as a child, and: b) The Institute burned down little over a year later. Do you think somebody was rolling the Dice bit too much?
'Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment Applicability Assessment'. To me it sounds like: "hey, Catalytics, check if we can use this thing for enrichment." And I'm having a bad thought. They were studying kids, Sam among them, for some purpose, almost certainly related to supernatural stuff. Did they give the kids cursed artefacts to play with, to boost development of their otherworldly skills/trait/whatever? Because if so, so help me… 🔪🔪🔪🔥🔥🔥
Lastly, for completion's sake: viability as subject (none), agent (low), catalyst (medium). I've no idea nor theories what these are about, I'm just leaving them here for future reference.
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camo1000le · 1 year
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Jeremike but they're my OCs now AKA a weird Coffee shop AU!!
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pinkprettycure · 1 year
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that is NOT how it went lsmdofunsddijwnedi
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