When Drugs Are Good
“Alright, that should do it for today,” Bel murmured, patting Stitches softly on the shoulder. “Take it easy for a few hours, let the side effects work themselves out. The doses were higher today since you insist on speeding this along.”
Stitches groaned as she tried to sit up, giving up and flopping back down. Her whole body ached, and her veins screamed from all the toxins that she had flooded her system for the last hour. Her mind was still cloudy, partially from the drugs and partially from the remnants of Belphagor’s healing magic, which was the only thing that not only soothed the pain and symptoms of the cocktail of poisons but also kept her alive as her body adjusted and built a tolerance to them.
Super handy, honestly.
Bel clicked her tongue. “You’re having more trouble recovering after every treatment. Your body is getting better at working through the doses, but your physical strength is waning.” She sighed and shook her head. “Perhaps we need to slow down-”
Stitches groaned again. “It’s not the treatments; it’s lack of sleep,” she admitted quietly, covering her face with her arms. “It’s been a… rough week.”
Bel hummed, and Stitches could hear her cleaning up her work station. Belphagor may be the Sin of Sloth, but she kept her office immaculately clean and organized, as she enforced throughout her Ring. She had once joked that it was so any surface could be used to take a nap, but Stitches sorta believed that was more true than not.
Stitches sighed and peeked out from her barrier of limbs. “You’ll keep what I say between us right now, right? I know I usually let you tell Dad and Angel what I talk about as needed, but this… I just got everyone at home to stop treating me like a shattering vase. I don’t need that to get ruined.”
“Oh?” Belphagor’s eyes narrowed with concern, all of them, even the ones down her neck. “I can promise that as long as you are not in immediate danger, I won’t tell them a word.” She glanced down at Stitches’ lap, where her thighs were hidden behind a thick layer of loose sweat pants. Stitches shifted uncomfortably, knowing what she was thinking.
“I’m not cutting again,” she huffed, then turned away, lowering her voice. “Yet…” When Bel made no response, she closed her eyes and leaned back on the thin cushion of the inclined treatment bed. “I can feel a spiral coming: the nightmares are increasing, nausea is making it hard to eat, and I can’t even get fully naked to take a shower!” She felt the tears coming and gritted her teeth. “I haven’t even thought about having sex since my spouse died, and then they drugged me! I almost-” her breath hitched, and the tears escaped, running down her cheeks like a broken dam.
Belphagor’s warm, large hands took hers. “I know it was terrifying. The drug made you react to the stimulation, it’s not your fault that it forced you to-”
“THAT'S THE PROBLEM!” Stitches screamed, not able to hold it in anymore. “IWANTED IT!”
The room fell silent, except for the soft ticking of Bel’s old clock and Stitches’ sobs. It was a truth she had not wanted anyone to know. Everyone knew she had been a victim of sexual abuse, rape, and now, even drugged with a lust-inducing toxin. It was valid for people to think that she had lost her desire for such things, what with her aversion to men and general distrust of those she didn’t know. It could take years to work through enough trauma to even fantasize about being touched or touching someone else, she had first-hand experience from when she was alive.
But she had been interested in Belle the moment that she had met her, before ever getting on the bus, before taking the first sip from that flask. Flustered and tongue-tied, hoping she was single, anxious to see if they could perhaps see each other again. If not for the drug, how would that night have gone? Would they have been able to plan a second meeting, maybe a real date? Or would they have ended up somewhere private, exploring each other’s bodies and diving headfirst into a passionate night? Just because she typically didn’t fall into bed with someone the first time they met didn’t mean that she hadn’t or wouldn’t.
Stitches had had plenty of time to even wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t gotten spooked about the drug’s effects. Belle could have helped her through the effects or helped get her somewhere safe, away from Ember and her wretched plans. If only she hadn’t freaked out, had leaned on the succubus that had looked hurt and worried as she ran away…
Belphagor’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her into her large, fluffy embrace, sitting her on her lap and burying Stitches’ wet face into her chest. The sheep hummed a lullaby and released a cloud of soothing vapors that flooded Stitches’ senses and made her feel safer and calmer than she had been in days. Her sobs subsided into sniffles before going completely silent, drifting into a state of pre-slumber contentment.
“Auntie Bel?” she whispered. “I need help. I am going to spiral if I can’t make it all… less.”
Bel hummed in consideration. “These things take time. Healing is a journey without a shortcut. However,” she leaned down and nuzzled Stitches’ hair with her snout, “I can give you some medication to help dial down the intensity. Something to help boost your mood and improve your appetite, perhaps help with the insomnia and lessen the dreams. I know you have resisted medication, but if you are feeling this strongly about it, I truly believe it is for the best.”
Stitches fiddled with her Asmodeon cuff. “I…” She sighed. “I am willing to try it. Just- can you make it not look like medicine? Definitely not liquid either. I can’t even look at booze or anything that tastes like drugs right now.”
Bel chuckled. “How about I make you little gelatin candies? I can make them into whatever shape you like, even different colors or flavors.”
Stitches smiled and hugged her. “Can I have purple stars that taste like blackberries then?”
Bel nodded and helped her to her feet. “Whatever my youngest niece would like.” She held Stitches hands and looked into her eyes, her expression gentle but serious. “It is okay that you want to be intimate with someone, Brandi,” she assured her. “All creatures, Humans especially, crave companionship in some form. We all have different preferences and ways of finding intimacy and fulfillment, and when it is denied or neglected, it can make us feel responsible when we react to unwanted advances.” She shifted Stitches’ hands into one of hers so she could use the other to cup her cheek. “You may have felt a desire to experience something of a more carnal nature, and you might still wish for that, Little One. But you did not ask to be forced into it, and you certainly did not deserve to be violated in the way you were.”
Stitches shook her head. “But it didn’t even go all the way-”
“It didn’t need to,” Bel interrupted, squeezing her hands gently. “It doesn’t matter how far it got before it was stopped. If it progressed far enough to be stopped, then it happened. Just because it didn’t end up going as far as it could have doesn’t make it any less valid to be hurt and upset about it. You are valid in your feelings and reactions, Brandi, and I am here to help you get through it. You don’t have to involve anyone else yet, but you still have a support system who are ready to help when you are ready. I see you, Little One, and you are valid.”
Stitches nodded and fell back into another embrace. “Can we have an earlier appointment tomorrow? I want to make sure I am at the hotel with Alastor and Dad putting pressure on the Vees, and I will be too wound up after for treatments. Alastor said the Overlord meeting is around noon or so, and Dad is going to wait until after he leaves to start confronting the spies around the hotel.”
Bel chuckled. “Of course. Be here at 9 am, and we’ll start with your therapy first and then do your resistance treatment. If all goes well, you’ll be back at the hotel in plenty of time for your plans to get started.” She shook her head. “How you were able to convince two old and stubborn men like Alastor and Lucifer to let you call the shots, I will never understand.”
Stitches grinned mischievously. “I may not be quite as experienced as Dad or as great of a strategist as Alastor, but I make up for it with determination and a lifetime of survival instincts!” She giggled. “Also, they trust me and know that I am not shackled to my pride; I can, will, and have asked for help and take the time to learn the things I don’t know. Neither of them can claim to not be trapped by their own self-assurance. Dad is literally the Sin of Pride, and Alastor… I mean, he could compete with Dad for the title if we are only taking the size of their egos into account.”
Belphagor laughed. “I can agree with you there!” Her expression softened as she opened a portal for Stitches back to her room at the hotel. “Just be careful. Prideful as they both are, neither would survive if something happened to you. I will have your medicine ready when you get here in the morning.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on dying again anytime soon!” Stitches promised, walking through the portal and waving goodbye as it fizzled away. Aria cooed at her from the bed, flapping her wings happily at her return. She chuckled and motioned for her to scoot over.
She flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her face twisted into a pained expression as her darker thoughts started whispering to her again, and she felt a tear escape her lashline. A cool snout nudged her cheek, and she closed her eyes as Aria grew large enough to coil around her several times, forming a nest with her body, and cover her with her wings. She snuggled into the cool scales and warm feathers, breathing in the faint scent of ozone and apples.
“Not planning it at all,” she whispered, letting the steady beat of Aria’s heart lull her to sleep.
___________________________________________________________________________
“Uuuuuugh!” Loona groaned, slowly spinning in her chair at the front desk. “When is Stitches coming back?”
“You know when,” Moxxie sighed, looking up from the files he was sorting. “She said she would be back Monday, she was just taking some personal time for a week, something about a family emergency or whatever.” Which would make sense if her text to Blitz hadn’t been so cryptic. Then again, when Blitz had come back from his monthly “fuckfest” (Blitz’s words) with Prince Stolas, he had mentioned the rumors starting to spread about the Magne among the upper class. It was sure to be a stresser for the royal family, and so maybe that was why she had taken time off.
“It’s more fun when she’s here,” Loona complained, but honestly, she always complained, so he decided to tune her out. Maybe if she did her job she wouldn’t be so damn bored all the time.
“Well, I miss the little gal too!” Millie chimed in, pouting prettily as she sharpened one of her blades. “She’s a little firecracker once ya get her goin’, and she is mighty helpful 'round here!” She smiled at him, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “C’mon, Mox, I know even you kinda miss the little Sinner.”
Moxxie grumbled under his breath as he turned back to the files. He didn’t really miss her, but he could admit that her presence was rather welcome around the office in the one week she had worked here. She was polite and kind, had a good work ethic, and was genuinely willing to do just about anything they asked of her. Not that they were comfortable giving her a ton to do; she was royalty-adjacent, at the very least, but she still took on any chore happily.
The biggest thing he had come to appreciate, though, was how she treated them. Sinners, in the over-all hierarchy of Hell were above most Hellborn, except for the Ars Goetia. Not only that, but Imps and Hellhounds were at the very bottom of the pyramid and were often treated as such. Even fresh-to-the-pit Sinners often ignored or abused Hellborn, and some were known to even attack and kill Imps and Hellhounds, even though they weren’t supposed to harm any Hellborn. Funny what you could get away with when you focused on the groups that no one cared about.
But Stitches wasn’t like that. She treated them like they were equals; no insulting slurs, no backhanded compliments. Just genuine respect and decency that was as soothing as it was jarring. When you spend your whole life being treated like dirt by everyone around you, was it really surprising that someone actually seeing you as a person was just a little uncomfortable?
Then again, Moxxie certainly wouldn’t mind learning to get comfortable…
“I will admit that I won’t hate having her back,” Moxxie mumbled.
____________________________________________________________________________
Emily watched from the stadium seating of the training colliseum of the Exorcist Army as Lute sparred with some of her soldiers. She flinched whenever the sound of wooden weapons and flesh collided with each other, covering her face with her hands as someone got punched to the ground or got thrown into a wall. It was all so… violent.
Completely unnecessary too, as far as she was concerned.
When Charlie and Lucifer had successfully stopped the yearly Exterminations while the Hazbin Hotel continued to redeem more Sinners, she had been elated. Lucifer was just like Charlie, so kind and strong, even if he had been much more distant and cold in the meetings. But the few minutes that she had gotten to speak to him before the meeting told her that the way Heaven talked about him was completely unfair. How many more lies were being told by the Heavenly Council, by Sera?
She shook her head. That was a better rabbit hole left for when she was alone in her private rooms, not in a public space, surrounded by zealots. Exorcists were terrifying in how devoted they were to erradicating demons. She had hoped it was just Adam and Lute being a little prejudiced, that it was maybe years of having to come to terms with killing so many poor souls. But, no, the more she observed, the more she realized that this little “army” was more like a hornet’s nest: vicious and single-minded on destruction. It was a… a… CULT! It could only be described as such, and the fact that it existed in Heaven was terrifying to her.
“Here to give us orders?” Lute deadpanned next to her, making Emily yelp. Lute was standing by where she had been sitting, looking at her with little emotion. From this distance, she could see the dark, sunken bags under Lute’s eyes and the pale palor of her skin. She looked exhausted, maybe a bit sickly.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek, but she pulled it back when Lute bristled and growled at her. “You look so tired. Maybe you should go lay down-”
“I’m fine,” Lute huffed, crossing her arms. “What are you doing here?”
Emily fidgeted with her hands. “I was just watching you train. I don’t understand why the Exorcists aren’t being disbanded, now that we have a treaty and-”
“That is a temporary agreement,” Lute cut in. “Once the Princess fails, the Council will need us to pick back up where Adam left off. We need to keep up our strength and learn from our mistakes-” Lute rubbed her metal arm “-so we don’t repeat them next time. I will make sure that we are ready when we are called back to duty.”
“But you don’t know that Charlie will fail!” Emily argued. “Sir Pentious is proof that she was right! It’s possible, and when she succeeds in figuring out how to replicate it, there will never be another Extermination again!”
Lute stared at her quietly for a moment before shrugging and sitting down, her shoulders sagging as she rested her head in her hands. “If that happens, then we will disband. Until then, it is my responsibility to keep the girls sharp. I won’t allow any more losses on our side. We lost too much last time, I can’t-” She took a deep breath and sighed, looking down at the stadium field where the others were still sparring. “I can’t let feelings get in the way of that.”
“Feelings?” Emily hedged, seeing how conflicted her eyes were.
Lute groaned. “I fucking need sleep, if I am stupid enough to talk to you about this shit!” she spat. But she didn’t leave, instead, she turned to her, expression hard. “How much of this conversation is going back to Sera?”
“None of it.” Emily frowned. “Sera has been keeping enough secrets from me. Only fair I keep one or two of my own.” If that was petty or vengeful, she would only apologize to Father, if and when He ever returned, because with how Heaven’s not-so-great side was being revealed, only God had any right judging her for it. “As long as it isn’t putting Heaven in danger,” she added hastily because, well, she couldn’t let innocent Winners be hurt.
Lute chuckled and looked at her smugly. “Little Miss Goody-Good, turning into a rebel. Adam would be so proud.” She sighed and looked away again. “I snuck to Hell around 8 months ago.”
Emily was stunned. Immediately, she had a thousand questions, but she bit her cheek to keep from interrupting. Lute didn’t open up about anything, so her trusting Emily right now was sure to be a fragile thing. She wasn’t going to risk making her mad or spooking her with a mountain of questions.
Lute didn’t seem to notice her struggle, just kept going. “I was going to avenge Adam and look for his body, but I came back empty-handed after getting caught. I took a hostage to try to salvage the situation, but she had a panic attack or something and she… fell apart.” Lute’s eyes widened in horror, like the memory still haunted her, and Emily realized it probably did. “Like, literally, she’s a doll Sinner, and she started falling apart at the seams and screaming and crying… I couldn’t take it anymore and yelled for them to come help her, and then Lucifer portaled me away and-” Lute gritted her teeth and hid her face in her hands again. “I don’t even know if she is alive.”
Emily didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, what Lute had done was wrong, so very wrong. Sneaking to Hell, attempting to take revenge, taking a hostage… Yet, she was so distressed, so full of regret and despair, all of it for a Sinner she had met once in a strange situation.
“Lute, why is this affecting you so much?” Emily asked quietly. “You have killed so many Sinners over the years, so why…”
Lute didn’t answer right away, just kept her face in her hands. Finally, she huffed and looked at the sky, her eyes hazy. “I heard her sing before everything fell apart. She was painting or something, crying, and she was singing. It was haunting and beautiful. She was beautiful. I never planned to take her hostage, I didn’t want to hurt her, not her. But-” Lute’s voice broke, and she looked at Emily. “I have been seeing her in my dreams every night since. Her voice, her singing, her sobs, her screams… Sometimes I imagine her happy, and she speaks to me sweetly, calling me ‘Little Bird’, like she did that day, though it was mocking then. Other times, I am watching her writhe and scream and shouting at me how I killed her. I…”
Emily reached out, and this time, Lute let her touch her shoulder, even as she shivered from the contact. “Lute, is it possible you were attracted to her?” she whispered.
Lute barked out a laugh and pulled back. “What does that matter?” she muttered, forcing her face and body back into her normal, haughty presence. “If she’s alive, she’s a Sinner in Hell! Even if I could sneak back there, Lucifer ordered me to never return, so he would kill me on sight. Not to mention that she probably hates me!” She shook her head. “No, if they were able to help her in time, I hope she does hate me. I deserve it.”
Emily wasn’t so sure, but she also knew it wasn’t an argument that she could win. “Lute,” she asked instead, “would it bring you some peace if I looked into it and found out if she is at least alive? I have a meeting with Charlie in a few weeks. I can ask her about it, and then you can at least know what happened, get some closure.”
Lute hesitated. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course!” Emily smiled. “I would be a hypocrite if I thought Charlie could reform Sinners and not believe that you could be remorseful. I only ask that no matter what we learn, you try to seriously reevaluate your own views on Sinners. If one of them is good enough to make you feel things, then not all of them can be as horrible as you were taught. Maybe they all deserve the chance to change, not be slaughtered. Promise me you will at least try to think about it, will you?”
Lute nodded reluctantly. “Okay, I can promise that much.” She narrowed her eyes and glared. “Don’t get your hopes up, though. I am still the leader of the Exorcists. It will take more than a pretty face to make me turn my back on my soldiers and our mission.”
Emily giggled and turned to leave, glancing over her shoulder one more time. “I will let you know once I have confirmation on your pretty lady!” she called out, laughing when Lute growled at her as she flew away. She sincerely hoped Charlie would tell her about the doll Sinner and that the woman was okay. Not just for Lute, but just because it hurt her heart that anyone got hurt. Who knew, maybe Charlie would be able to redeem the doll, and then she could meet Lute under better circumstances, so Lute could apologize! Even if nothing else came of it, that would be a nice ending indeed.