#Hazbin void

[askalastorxvoid]

First Post!

Welcome to my RadioVoid ask blog! Ask these two goobers whatever the hell ya want! -Starboy_VA

[nadviise]

motherfucker was this bitch broadcasting the whole time ?!

[chronic-hyperfixator]

Bob, while in battle: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.

Yelena: Now’s not the time for that, Bob!

Bob: Oh, right. DIE MOTHERFUCKERS!!!

[novinare]

// I've had this red mug around for ages, waiting for me to put something on it... This was definitely the right choice! I love how it turned out!

update: adding more designs, cause apparently one wasn't enough!

VOX || VALENTINO

[gothearts]

Sorry for vanishing, I've been more active on tiktok as of late.

Anyways, here's a few designs for my au I mentioned a while back.

[jester-virus]

Gaslight ❤️‍🔥✨

Gatekeep ✨💅

Girlboss✨🎀

[incorrect-teenwolf-quotes]

Void: I know everything about these motherfuckers at this point

Void, pointing at Stiles: That one is an insecure buffoon whose lonely ass watches you idiots sleep.

Void, pointing at Scott: The werewolf is a bleeding heart who wants to solve everyone else’s problems except his own.

Void, pointing at Malia: This one judges everyone and anything because she hates herself.

Void, pointing at Theo: And Theodore? You don’t even want to know what his deal is.

[rabbitsonthemoon]

Huskerdust was the ship I didn't see coming, but once it did, it was absolutely amazing. Loser, Baby lives in my head rent free. The tender look Angel Dust gives Husk behind his back the night before the final battle makes me want to gnaw on a chair.

I love these little guys and I hope the have the happy ending they deserve. Ahem, I hope they get the happy ending they deserve.

[styrofauxm]

So you know that thing that's floating around about Vivziepop not wanting to ruin people's fun by confirming Alastor's romantic orientation?

I was going to make a venty (untagged) post about how that's kinda queerbait-y* and arophobic. But then I was like "you know what, I should check the source because I don't remember the exact quote."

And it turns out I never actually saw the exact quote. Nor did anyone talking about it bother to include the context. And while I don't think either removes the queerbait-y* or arophobic aspects of the statement, they certainly make it better than it initially seemed to me.

Here's the stream (linked to the proper place): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5ONxBZoR0A&t=3793s

And here's a loose transcript (it cuts out some less relevant statements in-between but loses almost no context as far as I could tell): https://www.reddit.com/r/HazbinHotel/comments/mle06e/alastors_sexual_orientation_aromanticasexual/

*I am keeping the actual word on the shelf, I just don't know a better one to use here. I think what she said is SIMILAR to queerbaiting but is NOT queerbaiting.

With the queerbait-y stuff, it still maintains the "aromantic people, tune in, this character may or may not be aromantic. We'll tell you eventually, just keep watching!"

With the arophobia, it still maintains the prioritization of shipping over representation, and treats aromanticism as a subsect of asexuality at best, and as flat out not an orientation at worst.

I don't think either is as bad as my original perception, but they certainly aren't good. And keep in mind, this was 3 years ago, any number of things about her beliefs could have changed in any which way since then.

But what gets me is that Vivziepop absolutely did not say that everyone should just let everyone else have their fun. What she said was to have fun and be respectful of his orientation and the people that are represented by him. She says that multiple times.

I'm not feeling this generous, but I guess you could say the fandom had some kind of Mandela Effect over what she actually said.

I think it's more likely that a few people, maliciously or not, spread the incorrect paraphrase without context, and the rest of the fandom, reasonably, believed them.

Anyway the lesson here is check your sources before you contribute to misinformation on the internet.

[beesarw]

Do NOT strike a deal with him bestie

[ratsinspats]

my Very Serious ™ theory for what happened between alastor and vox, based on the argument from this post. the text on the paper taped over the book is unfortunately kind of tiny, but it says “SHARKS ARE SMOOTH AS HELL”

[shadebloopnik]

Angelic Alastor AU

"Al!"

The angel turned to the voice and the sound of flapping wings just in time to see the two Archangels land behind him. The smaller of the two- with porcelain skin, rosy cheeks and an otherworldly beauty, bounded towards him full of energy. Golden eyes peered up at him as he spoke.

"Just finished with our spar, and Michael said he loved the hat! I told you it was a good idea!", Lucifer spoke, deep chuckles seeming to brighten the area by its mere presence. He punctuated his words by adjusting the top hat on his head, replacing the usual golden crown, a prideful smile on his face.

"Your brothers clearly love you too much.", Alastor snipes before facing the taller angel, and giving a polite bow. "Your Highness."

Michael gives a solemn nod, adorning a small soft smile. "Always good to see you, Altruist. I had ample time before my next meeting, so I figured I'd accompany my brother on his way to your little appointment."

Michael bore nearly identical features to his younger brother, possessing the same blonde locks, white skin, and golden eyes, albeit being considerably taller. What he lacked, falling a bit behind Lucifer's beauty, he made up for with his dignified grace, a regal authority that rivalled no other. He reminded Alastor of a frozen tundra amidst the plans for the creation of life, as precise as every detail on each snowflake.

"Very well that you did, your Grace, as your brother appears to need it quite a lot."

"It was ONE time! And your directions were very unclear!"

"I fail to see how 'meet me at the gates' translates to 'circle the entirety of heaven for 3 hours', my friend."

"There are a lot of gates in heaven! No matter! They just finished constructing the new nebula! We gotta check it out Alastor! Come on!", Lucifer said, practically bouncing on his feet in excitement and circling the other in flight before dashing off in a burst of speed.

Michael let out a rare chuckle as Alastor sighed in seeming annoyance.

"Always so sprightly, makes me wonder how you keep up with it all, Altruist.", the Archangel spoke, stepping to stand beside the red eyed angel.

"Trust me Sire, its tempting not to follow.", Alastor replied, deadpan as he set his gaze to the direction the Morningstar set off on. Left alone with the other Archangel, without Lucifer with him, Alastor couldn't help but feel a bit insecure. Shuffling his mismatch wings, he subtly moved the upper white set to cover the red and black wings below, his hold on his cane, tightening ever so slightly, though not enough for Michael to notice.

Michael smiled, finding no offense whatsoever from Alastor's words and the casualty of his jabs towards Lucifer. Despite his words, Michael could see the fondness Alastor possessed for the shorter angel, clear as day. Alastor was powerful, only ranking below the Archangels themselves in sheer strength, and would be of higher standing if not for his reclusive nature.

He always wore a smile wherever he went, but it was different for Lucifer, softer, fuller. Alastor shied away from any interaction with his angelic kind, but fully welcomes Lucifer's presence, seeking it, even. It was without a doubt that Alastor cared for his younger brother, his loyalty and selflessness when it came to the younger angel was palpable, fitting of his title, and for that, he had Michael's complete and utter respect.

"But you will, you always do.", Michael turned to face the angel, golden eyes meeting peculiar red. "Its why I trust you with his life."

Its a bit ridiculous perhaps, considering Lucifer was far more powerful than Alastor could ever be, but in the end, it mattered little. Alastor held his brother's heart, and Michael could guess it rang true vice versa.

Alastor's smile froze on his face, his sharp tongue silent as he gazed into the Archangel. A bout of silence passed, broken only by the Morningstar barreling back into Alastor at high speed.

"Alastor come on slow-wings! Hah! Get it? Slow? Wings? Come on, its hilarious, lets goooo!!", Lucifer bounced, gripping at the taller angel's arm, making a show of pulling him along. Evidently he didn't use much force, seeing as how Alastor wasn't immediately carried off, but it was enough to drag the angel rather quickly still.

"Later Michael!", the star spoke with a cheerful wave, before speeding off, dragging a squawking Alastor behind him as the other hastily flapped his mismatched wings, as he struggled to keep up.

Michael smiled at the scene, before turning to leave for his meeting.

Protect his heart, Alastor, it's all I ask of you.

_________________________

The wind roughly brushed the trees around them, as 3 pairs wings fluttered to land, every flap bringing forth powerful gusts. Michael surveyed the area as he went down to Earth, a mossy swamp littered with fireflies, blues and greens seeming to glow under the night sky. He wrenched his eyes down. He couldn't bear to look at a star right now, not after....

He shook the thought away, marching to look for the angel he was looking for. He'd been searching for hours, burning through the whole day. Alastor truly was a recluse, he was impossible to locate when he didn't want to be found. This was the last place he didn't look yet. They'd let Alastor design these swamps, letting him have at least a little hand in the creation of Earth despite his numerous refusals.

There at the edge, he could see him, standing at the edge of the water, mismatched wings cocooning him, the white set covering his entirety until his black wings were nearly out of sight.

"Altruist."

Alastor remained silent, his back to the Archangel. It was perhaps the most disrespectful thing Alastor's ever done to him, what with all his usual obsession with propriety.

"Altruist.", he called again, voice growing desperate, frustrated.

Still, there was no answer.

Michael clenched his teeth, the day's proceedings catching up to him, leaving him with far, far too many emotions.

"Alastor-"

"Don't."

Alastor's voice was cold, an icy tone that rivalled his own. It made Michael angry, frustrated and bitter. Can't Alastor see that he's hurting too? That he's also grieving?

"I lost him too, Alastor."

His voice was filled with emotion he wouldn't dare name. He had to be strong and steady for his brothers, for the rest of heaven. Im front of Alastor though? In matters regarding Lucifer? There was no one Michael could relate to more.

So why can't Alastor see? Did he think this was easy for Michael?! He lost his brother too! He's not the only one suffering!

But deep inside, Michael knew. It wasn't the same. He knew how deep the bond between Alastor and Lucifer ran, perhaps deeper than he ever had with his brother.

Michael's heart was already given to Heaven as a whole, but Alastor's only belonged to one.

"Tell me Michael, whose life did you entrust to me, again?", Michael felt ice crawl up his spine, his heart growing heavier with each word. Alastor spun around, unfurling his wings to face the Archangel. His crimson eyes were redder than usual.

"How, pray tell, am I supposed to do what you asked, when you cast down the one I was supposed to protect? Tell me how can I protect him from the fiery pits you all threw him into? How, am I supposed to GO ON WITHOUT-!"

'Without them', he almost said. No, he couldn't be reckless, couldn't let his emotions get the better. They couldn't know about his own relations with Lilith, he promised the two he'd stay safe. No matter how much it ached, he couldn't go against them.

Michael furrowed his brows in understanding, letting the accusations wash over him. If it were anyone else, he'd have already smote them down for the audacity, but this was Alastor. This was the angel who held his brother's heart; angry and emotional and dreadfully loyal to the star even now. If anything, in respect for his brother, he could endure this.

Schooling his expression, he'd gaze back at the fuming angel before him, his face a blank slate.

"Lucifer's actions were reckless and destructive, with severe consequences. His reckless disobedience, his affiliation with the first woman, its shattering the very foundation of order we worked so hard to maintain. Such crimes cannot go unpunished."

His voice was cold, adopting the mask of a ruthless prince. Right now, he wasn't a brother, he was Michael, Sword of Justice, Protector of Heaven. He had to learn to separate each title, it was the only way to ensure he did his role right. He can't be a brother right now. He won't, not for this.

He wishes it made it hurt less.

As emotionally compromised as he was, Alastor couldn't mask the pain in his face as he squeezed his eyes shut at Michael's tone, knowing he was now speaking to a soldier, not a friend. The sight of it almost made Michael want to break down the mask. Almost. Not nearly enough to actually do so. He was able to bear casting down his own brother, this was nothing.

The thought sent another pang to his heart, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.

"I love him too..", his voice was low, resigned, all energy leaving him as he looked away from the angel before him. Michael was so so tired. "It had to be done."

The swaying of the leaves and the buzz of nearby fireflies were the only things breaking the deafening silence. Now that he thought about it, didn't Lucifer help make these? Little bursts of light flying amidst a darkened swamp...

Why must everything hurt Michael today?

He heard the other take a deep breath, and turned to see the other adopt a smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Thank you for your visit, your Highness. You may take your leave now."

Alastor always smiled, even when he didn't mean it, but none of those ever felt as wrong as this one.

"Alas-"

Michael cut off his own words at the other's glare. Alastor's eyes glowed a deep red, his sclera giving its own crimson glow. His glowing wings seemed to curl closer around him. All this while still keeping on that damned smile. It was uncomfortable. It served little to intimidate someone as powerful as Michael, but this wasn't about power.

He's never seen Alastor look so broken.

He may be set apart from the other angels, but he always looked so happy with Lucifer.

......but Lucifer isn't here anymore, is he?

Suppressing a sigh, Michael kept his voice level. ".....Altruist."

Alastor's smile only seemed to widen, contrasting with how his wings curled tighter around himself in a cocoon.

"I wish to be alone. Now.", the deceptively cheerful tone made Michael sick.

Without another word Michael turned around. There was no fixing this. Alastor looked as though a single action would cause him to flee. If Michael didn't take his leave, he'd have left anyway. All Alastor wanted was Lucifer, and Lucifer was condemned in Hell. There's nothing he could do.

As he spread out his wings, he took one last glance at Alastor's smiling face, before taking off, ignoring the muffled sounds of sobbing he left in his wake.

It was the last time he's ever seen Alastor smile.

[randompurrple]

I'M GONNA NEED Y'ALL TO SEE MY VISION, OKAY?? JUST THINK ABOUT IT FOR JUST A MOMENT.....

LILUTE GUYS, LILUTE....

+ Extra doodles, two featuring my ocs

[alastorsfuckassbob]

You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

[stoneagedevil]

My mental illness manifests itself in my attraction to fictional men sporting fuck-ass bobs and without morals. Oh the agony.

[torrentialchaos]

Happy Pride Month everyone! I’ll probably make some new artwork for the occasion but for now have this drawing I’m really proud of that I made last year

I chose to draw one character for each part of the LGBT thing! Vaggie for Lesbian, Void for Bisexual, Human Hijinks Red (sorry it was the first one I thought of) for Gay, and Bandu for Trans!