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“Chaggie Analysis: Trauma, Trust, and the Complexity of Devotion”

Pros:

Healthy and supportive couple

Deep trust

Opposites Attract: Optimist and Pessimist

Cons:

Lacks tension

Underdeveloped in the show

May have co-dependent aspects

Summary of the Essay:

A character-focused analysis of Chaggie that examines how trauma, communication struggles, and contrasting worldviews define their dynamic. It reinterprets Vaggie’s protectiveness through the lens of past abuse and highlights Charlie’s hope as both a strength and a flaw. Despite everything, their bond is built on trust and that’s what makes it beautiful.

🧠 Initial Thoughts

Chaggie is messy, flawed and real and that is why I love it so dearly. 

I really do adore Chaggie when it has its soft moments although I truly wish it had more moments in the show to expand the relationship. While we know how they first met, I would like to know the in between. How did they get together? What were their conflicts? Why are they together? How does their dynamic both strengthen and hurt each other? Why do they still choose each other in the end?

🗣️ Criticism & Defense of Chaggie 

I’ve seen that a criticism of Chaggie was that Charlie was able to accept the fact that Vaggie was an exorcist so quickly. If anything I feel that her whole talk with Rosie was so very meaningful and Rosie was able to shed light on Vaggie’s actions. Charlie was in a state of turmoil over that reveal yet she got through it! She trusted Vaggie that much, over all those years she realized that Vaggie never meant to hurt her with that secret. It was a burden, a shame that Vaggie had carried all throughout their relationship. And while it made Charlie question Vaggie’s word, Vaggie only did it to protect Charlie. And Charlie, thankfully, realized that and was able to rekindle with her girlfriend for the great battle. The reason why Charlie was able to move over it so quickly was her trust and loyalty in her girlfriend. And of course, due to Rosie’s speech about Vaggie’s actions, not words which is a pinnacle point in Vaggie’s character.  

Leading to my next point but all in all, their trust is unbreakable, unshatterable in my humble opinion. While it may lack the pazzazz that other ships have it is comfortable and true. Isn’t that what many people want in the end?

🦋 Vaggie’s Character & Flaws

The next point is Vaggie’s unwavering devotion to Charlie. While it is sweet, it seems to be her only other characteristic other than being fiery. I know many people adore Vaggie but I believe that she is not as well fleshed out as the other characters on the show. Compared to Alastor’s mysteriousness, Angel’s heartbreaking story and Charlie’s hopeful outlook for redemption, I am unsure where Vaggie stands in it all. 

While Vaggie seems to support Charlie’s endeavors in the hotel, she shares a paradoxical position. When Charie is singing “It’s a Happy Day in Hell” and singing about change, it cuts to a scene of Vaggie saying: “They’re bloodthirsty and deranged.” 

So, Vaggie says this phrase and it really stuck out to me. In four words, this is and has been her view of sinners—the very people Charlie is trying to save. Although Vaggie disproves this belief with the brief flashback of Vaggie’s fall and first meeting with Charlie: Vaggie spares a Cannibal child from death, showing a soft spot for children and vulnerability. I personally believe that Vaggie distrusts most Sinners however, the children she understands their innocence. And again, I personally believe if it was a child it may have been forced into cannibalism. Or it could be foreshadowing more flaws in Heaven’s logic. This tendency to protect the innocent and naive also shines through in her relationship with Charlie. 

Either way, she shows leniency to one demon while actively disapproving of many of the other sinners in the hotel. Vaggie seems to distrust everyone in the hotel. She clashes with Angel Dust and Alastor over conflicts. She seems to mildly tolerate Husk and Cherri Bomb. However, I have suspicion that her lack of trust towards nearly everyone except Charlie may be largely due to the traumas she experienced in Heaven. 

🪽 Vaggie, Lute & Heaven: A Haunting History

(Based on Headcanons and behaviors observed in the show)

While I am not completely sure the extent of traumas experienced, it is clear that Adam uses abusive, abrasive language and Lute’s cruelty could contribute to centuries of resentment and abuse. I also personally headcanon that Vaggie and Lute had a relationship of some type whether it was sexual, romantic, emotional entanglement or a strange combination of all the above, I believe it happened. Well, no matter the nature I am 100% if it did occur, it was unhealthy, abusive and detrimental to Vaggie. The only reason why I believe it happened is due to Vaggie’s responses to Charlie and how she views other sinners. 

Judging by Lute’s attitude towards Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship, it is quite obvious that she is homophobic. Although Adam acts indifferent to their relationship or at least says “It’s hot” or something along those lines which indicates that he has confidence in his sexuality and does not look down on other sexual relationships. I have noticed a tendency for some that their shame for liking the same gender manifests as homophobia. And especially in an environment like Heaven? I have no doubt that the folks up there despise the queer community. 

If such a relationship did happen, I am sure that the two of them kept it a secret. And the pressure of such a secret would certainly take a toll on the two of them, especially Vaggie who is a deeply feeling person. The person that Vaggie was in Heaven was different—one of the top girls in the exorcist army—and a manifestation of all the religious pressure and abuse she suffered. I also have beliefs that this possible abusive relationship is bleeding over into her relationship with Charlie. 

Analyzing the relationship, this is how I envision it: Lute and Vaggie were two fraternizing angels. Vaggie may have been a very different character than what we have met in the era of the Hazbin Hotel. I picture her as being younger, more naive, and more hopeful. Some people are born grumpy but I fear that she may have been forced into that role. I imagine that their relationship started out behind closed doors with Lute praising her and loving Vaggie in her own twisted way. However, while making Vaggie feel chosen Lute isolated her at the same time in the secrecy of the relationship. Then Lute would blame Vaggie for their relationship, feeding into the homophobic atmosphere of Heaven saying things like: “You’re tempting me to sin.” “You make me weak.” “If I fall, you made me fall.”. This cycle of manipulative language would guilt Vaggie and she would try to please Lute even more. 

Lute, I also believe, had a higher rank than Vaggie and Vaggie may have interpreted this as protection. I assume this due to Lute’s close nature with Adam. Vaggie truly believed that Lute would protect her and Lute would always take the lead in the relationship when it came to their secrecy. Lute promised safety in return for Vaggie’s obedience to Heaven. And Lute’s love was always conditional: “If you follow my lead, it will be okay.” And things of the like.

Then, Vaggie made a mistake by sparing the cannibal child and Lute took that opportunity—that opportunity to rid herself of her burden and secret. While it may have also come from devotion to Heaven that Lute punished Vaggie, if this relationship happened in whatever toxic way it happened, it was a quick fix. The relationship may have been winding down, exploding and Lute in her usually callous, cruel self took out that rage on her girlfriend. Not only making her fall but ripping off her fucking wings and tearing out her eye! Jesus Christ, talk about a crazy ex. 

🌈 The Light in her Life: Charlie

And then came the sunshine, after that God awful relationship: Charlie. We all know that famous alley scene where the dashing Princess of Hell finds her soon to be girlfriend. Let’s hop over to one of my favorites (and I believe to be a very underrated song): Whatever It Takes. 

When I saw your face — Awe. Vaggie was in absolute awe when she saw Charlie, her beauty, her kindness. Everything. Love at first sight. And a significant turning point. Someone who took care of her without asking anything in return. 

You made me feel like a stranger in a brand new place — Charlie shifted her reality. She felt disoriented but it was thrilling and euphoric. An unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling. 

And it felt so good to be understood — The first time Vaggie has been truly seen. She feels emotionally validated by Charlie. 

But there's so much I wished that I could say — There is hesitancy in this line. It is hard to express herself. She has a fear of rejection and is dealing with unprocessed trauma and feelings. The feelings are real but it's overwhelming. 

So I... I'll be your armor — Since she can’t be brave enough to confess her true feelings, she vows to do action over words. It also shows a deep flaw in her that she is putting Charlie’s needs over her own. That love is protection and protection is love. A philosophy that I believe was manifested in that past abusive relationship. 

Do whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes —- She is not perfect but she is willing to fight, fail, fall and die for Charlie. Again, another flaw is shown in this line is that she is willing to hurt herself in order for Charlie’s protection. 

I'll spend my life being your partner — It’s not just passion, its companionship. Something far deeper than anything. It’s support, love and protection. 

Vaggie seems to be a very flawed person who has these attributes shining in her relationship with Charlie. But that does not mean it is a bad relationship, if anything it's human. It’s real. Even Charlie has her own flaws but I will speak of that later. Vaggie has associated love with protection. This is due to her never getting the protection she needed. Not only was she victim to Heaven’s abuses, her only emotional connection in Heaven never protected her. Hell, it tore out her wings and eye! 

🕯️ Emotional Intimacy and Communication

Charlie’s naivety has been a pinnacle point in the series. And it absolutely terrifies the shit out Vaggie. Now this manifests out of fear and bursts out as anger. Vaggie sees this naivety as a danger such that she was a victim in Heaven. Going back to Vaggie’s need to protect, she protects Charlie at all costs. Not only because she sees a shadowy version of herself but also because Charlie is the only good thing that has ever happened to her. She is so utterly terrified of losing her. She picks fights, shuts people down and micromanages decisions not to control Charlie but to stop history from repeating itself. She does not want Charlie to ever have to experience the sort of loss in identity. 

I have a sense that they have moved from that now but I believe Charlie and Vaggie may have struggled with emotional intimacy. Vaggie seems to confuse love with protection, calling back that point and only knowing that love is defending. When she was vulnerable with that past relationship, Lute did nothing but belittle her and Heaven was certainly no place for feelings. She uses rage as a shield to protect herself since it is easier than vulnerability. Vaggie uses rage to protect Charlie especially from people who might hurt Charlie like Alastor or Angel Dust who criticize her dream. In general she seems to distrust men which may attribute to Adam or other unknown male figures. 

Charlie at heart is a caretaker and seems to weather other people’s feelings before taking care of her own. In Episode 1, Alastor mentions that Charlie has the belief that fixing other people will fix herself or her “Daddy Issues”. The princess of Hell has a tendency to believe in people a bit too much. This drives Vaggie absolutely bat shit crazy when Charlie trusts people who clearly are raising red flags—red flags which Vaggie is unfortunately familiar with. It also provides a contrast of someone who has constantly lived in danger and someone who has constantly lived in a sheltered environment. 

Another flaw that Charlie has exhibited is specifically attuned to communication. Vaggie needs direct communication and Charlie has a tendency to avoid conflict. In Episode 7 when the deal is struck between Alastor and Charlie, Vaggie is absolutely horrified. Her worst fears have come to life: a deal between Alastor and Charlie which could hurt Charlie very badly. When Vaggie voices her concerns in this moment about going with Alastor, Charlie completely disregards it. Yes, they were having a tense moment but this pattern has been apparent before. An example was concerning Sir Pentious’s arrival at the hotel and Vaggie’s valid concern over letting him in. However, Vaggie gives in to Charlie’s optimism and allows Sir Pentious into the hotel. 

💞 Why it still works 

Now moving on to a lighter topic of why their relationship is especially beautiful. Yes, I’ve about torn this relationship to bits and threads but I truly adore it. Let me tell you why Chaggie is an amazing ship…flaws and all. And especially the flaws. They have chosen each other through everything that has been thrown at them. Charlie chose and cared for the woman who has raw anger in her bones. Vaggie chose the unlikely dreamer who still sings even in doubt. 

They clash, of course, but it is good to have a partner who challenges you. Vaggie is realistic, cynical, and scarred. Charlie is dreamy, naive and optimistic. It is a balance that they both need to keep them grounded. Vaggie seems to be very deeply loving person who struggles to find the words to express it. Charlie is that first person that Vaggie can love without shame. And Vaggie, is someone that sees Charlie for herself and not as the princess of Hell. They will hurt each other sometimes, they will miscommunicate but in the end it is that love and trust that brings them back together. Love is always learning and its difficult, 

Now, why does Vaggie still stand by Charlie even when she doesn’t believe in her dream? For me, it’s a bit of a complex idea to wrap my head around. She doesn’t believe in the dream but she believes in Charlie. She loves Charlie just that much to stand by her and fight for her dream to the death. 

Love isn’t about agreement, it’s about loyalty and that’s how these two love each other. While Vaggie might not share Charlie’s hope, she protects it because it matters to the person she loves. Dear God, I’m tearing up. I think that is just so beautiful. It’s raw and it's human. And I think it's so damn beautiful that Vaggie fell in love with the first person who showed true care for her, true love and true kindness. Something so alien that she had never felt before. 

And that is real love. It’s messy, it's tender, it's anger, but most of all its devotion. 

Thank you for reading the rambles of a mad woman. 

I do hope one day they may explore more of the dynamics of this ship. It deserves that. I know it does. 

Chaggie GIFS for the soul:

My favorite pair of Sun & Moon.

The way that Charlie picks her up and the way Vaggie looks at her <3

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TIL MURDER DO US PART: concept

Day 2 of Charlastor AU Week: 1920s

Words: 3K

A/N: it’s a nice one shot on its own but this is a deleted scene. Unfortunately it’s a kill your darlings situation. Think of it as concept art!

The possibilities of passing a murder while toddling down a street are high. Now the possibilities of passing a serial killer, a bit slimmer. Old folks do say that a person walks past three serial killers in their life. However, marrying one out of those three serial killers? Almost impossible. But unfortunately someone had to make those odds happen and that person happened to be the mayor’s darling little princess: Charlotte Morningstar.

New Orleans was never dark even when nightfall fell. The twinkling lights of the slanted buildings almost seemed to lean over Tom Trench as he strolled down the street. Jazz floated down the cobbled stone streets, the tune dragging tantalizing circles in the sticky night air. Tom whistled along, straightening his sharp blue suit when meeting the eyes of a pretty brunette and bowing his head to a respectable balding man.

It had been another long night at the radio studio. Tom came to a stop, kicking a stray can onto the road as yet another pristine car whizzed by. He leaned against a flickering lamp post, waiting for the cars to cease and cross. Yes, a long night. A delirious grin crossed his face and a boy in a cap gave him a curious look as he passed by.

Katie Killjoy. His co-anchor. Whenever her viperous green eyes raked over his face, the spinning world stopped for a moment. He idly crossed the street, his fingers twitching at his side. Often, in his last waking moments before slumber, he would wonder how soft her ivory skin was. However, she was tough, ruthless, perhaps it would be as thick as a snake, or she would slither out from under his grasp.

His hand pushed open the bar door, stumbling into the buzz of conversation and the smell of that tart liquor. Tom collapsed on a bar stool, weariness tugged at his eyes, and he knocked his limber knees against the table. The bartender was a sturdily built older man with dark skin and sagacity glimmered in his eyes. A wiseness only a bartender could manage with a few quiet words and a liquor bottle. “Whiskey, Tom?” His soft baritone voice rolled over Tom in waves. Tom found a sort of comfort in it, no wonder he still came to this dingy dive bar.

Tom traced the scratch marks on the weathered bar top and glanced up, “Yeah, thanks, Husk.” There was a clink of a bottle and the glass slid into his folded hands perfectly. His almost too bright blue eyes glanced into the rusty gleam of his whiskey.

“I know that look…” The bartender said. Tom looked up at Husker who was shining away at a dirtied glass. “...wife troubles?” As soon as he said that Tom’s heart clenched, squeezing away anything left of his dignity. He drank, hoping to flood that feeling, drown it in his rib cage and cage his heart. “Oh…” That knowing eye raked over him, shattering through any wall he had so carefully raised.

“Uh huh…” Tom said, a shaking hand wiping over his mouth. He dodged the bartender’s gaze as he took glass after glass. The clock had long ago been broken, speeding at a rapid pace, running from itself seemingly. Someone was yelling, someone was crying, it was a typical Wednesday night in Swingin’ Spirits. A band played in the corner, a few lost lads in a sea of skyrocketing jazz, trying and failing to tame the din.

Husk didn’t ask. He never did. Never pried about sickeningly sweet feelings like some people did, for example Tom’s wife: Clara Trench. Tom was counting, counting each sip but after a while he stopped. What was the point? Drunk or drunk out of his mind, he was going to stumble back home to a fussing Clara. A Clara that would shower him, drown him in suffocating clinginess.

You’re pathetic. Tom knew it. He always knew it. He was a shell of a man and a man built to be nothing more to be a punching bag. Someone everyone would tread over, a heel always digging into his side.

Clara. His fingers were soft on the glass. Katie. His fingers dug in, his grip threatening to shatter it. Time was ticking by, he knew it. The shouting was beginning on the street, the desperate cry of the drunks and the homeless, perhaps both. The bar was beginning to empty itself out, weariness pulling folks to the exit, drunk moths to a four lettered light.

Tom didn’t know how long he sat there, pondering. It may have been minutes, hours, days. He didn’t know, he never glanced up from the brown sky underneath his fingertips, always remaining full. A sky that never emptied, never had its answers written in the stars of its small bubbly world. He sat still, very still yet his mind was tearing through, ripping itself apart bit by bit. Every perverted and dirty thought chipping away at a bit of his sanity. You’re disgusting. Tom knew it. He was. A man driven by a pretty face and curves to move mountains. Impure heat burning away at any self-dignity and pride, the disgusting world scorching any of his innocence from all those years ago.

A laugh crawled from the pit in his stomach and rolled out into the jazz filled air. “I’m fucked, aren’t I? The missus will kill me! Me! In love with another woman! Hah!” The words spilled forth like an endless waterfall, falling out of his mouth out of control. His fingernails dug into his pants leg, scrunching it up into his hand.

Husker let out a long sigh, propping a glass on the shelf lazily with the others lined up behind him haphazardly. “Look, man, I’ll say this,” He settled his burly arms flat on the bar, waving his hand around to the no-good fools chattering or snoozing off in a corner. “...I’ve seen this plenty of times, Tom. And well, do you love your wife?” Husk arched a bushy brow.

Tom nodded quickly and took another gulp from his glass. The tart taste soothed the sickeningly sweetness piercing any sense in his head.

“Alright…” Husk continued, his eyes darting down the bar line. “I say…don’t feed it. Ever. Let it starve and die. And I say this with complete conviction,” The bartender raised a finger. “It is not a fantasy or an escape. It is a danger to your marriage.”

Tom swallowed, hard. He had a sudden urge to spew the settling alcohol all over the bar counter. Tom clenched his hands into fists, his fingernails digging enough into his skin to draw clean blood. His eyes darted up to the serene eyes of Husker, “And…what happens if I can’t let it starve?”

Husker’s eye twitched and he said slowly, in a voice of perception, “So…she’s a coworker?”

Tom fingered the inside of his glass, swirling his digit along the rim and said quietly, “She’s my co-anchor.” Husker blinked and his usually narrowed eyes went wide. Tom sucked in a much-needed breath, “I know. I know. She’s fucking crazy.” His elbows slammed into the counter waking up a lazy drunk at the end of the bar. He dug his fingers into his scalp, tangling them in his blonde locks. “B-But…I’m in love with her. Husker…” The bartender took a small step back, “Husker…I can’t just get out of it. I’m stuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m stuck…”

“That you are, my man…” Husker’s rag dragged along the dirtied counter. Tom peeked at the bartender from the crevices of his fingers. “But…Katie Killjoy?” Husker rolled his eyes, “Come on, Tom. She’ll eat you alive.”

Tom drew his hands away from his face, “Is it bad I kind of like that?” he said quietly.

Husker shook his head, the grey streak in his hair shimmering under the dingy lights, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tom.” He pressed his rag into the counter, trying to scrub away at a particularly nasty stain. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

Tom let out a long sigh, “You know what, I got an idea.” He chewed the inside of his cheek and looked up at Husk. “I’ll figure something out.”

Husker let out a grumble, “You know that’s not damn good enough.” He pointed a finger at the disoriented radio star collapsing right in front of him. “I’m gonna give it to you straight. Clara’s a good woman and Katie Killjoy will never live up to that. You’re lucky you have her, Tom.”

“I know. I know,” Tom mumbled, “I’ll make it up to the missus. I’ll make extra good love to Clara tonight and take her out to dinner tomorrow” He took another hefty swig of his glass, slammed it on the table, and laughed, “Hell! I’ll even give her a baby. That’ll do it. That’ll make me fall back into my normal groove. Back in love again.” Tom grinned, “Katie Killjoy will be yesterday’s news.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Tom,” Husker simply said and glanced towards the back of the room. “Be careful out there.”

Tom Trench gave Husker a little wave, slammed down a few dollars and hopped off his bar stool, “Good night, Husker! Thank you, old bud!” He waded through the crowd making his way to the back door. God’s eyes were on him, piercing through the weathered shingles and countless chattering heads in the dive bar. Yes, Tom would make sweet love to her under the moon, the only witness to his redemption. He knew dear Clara’s skin, tantalizing yet not electrifying, not in the way a single brush of Katie’s skin would make his brain go haywire. Fry all his circuits, rip out his lungs and sever his vocal cords.

Tom remembered the days when his heart would race under Clara’s gaze, now twice the more under a scathing glare from his co-anchor. No, he knew all the ways to touch Clara, to make her sigh, moan and scream if he wished. She was soft spoken and tame, leaving him thirsting for a wildness that would leave him breathless. Yes, he’d fuck her gently, softly as he always did, always remembering to keep that slumbering beast in check. That beast that wanted her to scream at him, pull out his hair, beat him until he bled, until he begged for her love, and she would smile, whispering a soft dirty thing in his ear. And he would look up, no, not to see Clara’s soft brown eyes but venomous green, a sea of poison he wanted to drown in.

Tom stumbled, clutching his chest. How far had he fallen? He was vile! Dirty! Unbelievably perverted! He dared not think of what his dear mother in Heaven would say if she could flip through his dirty thoughts, gasping at each depraved fantasy racing from nerve to nerve.

Tom stopped short, his eye catching the rustle of a pinned-up paper nearby on the wall. No, several papers nearby were pinned up. Tom spun on his foot, pressing the heel of his hand on the wall to steady himself. The thoughts were threatening his balance, such vile things promising to topple himself from his dignity. His finger tranced the fresh ink on the papers, warped stoic faces glared at him as if they could see his thoughts: Missing Persons. That’s what they were.

Tom grumbled as another thought of Katie Killjoy flicked through his mind. Yes, he remembered talking about these missing persons today. However, he soon found himself drowning under her face, clutching onto any word that spilled from her plump lips like a lifeline. Idle words had fallen from his mouth, dragging on the conversation, picking up her little clues scattered in their mingled breaths.

Murders in New Orleans. A laugh escaped him. My, that had been the farthest thing from his mind. Love, lust, and lies had taken over any vision of bloodied bodies. The red of blood had transformed into the red of her lips. The pale skin had become her soft ivory skin. Tom almost felt his stomach drop yet the thoughts of her kept him afloat. The conversation dragged him back into his memories of their little radio show together.

“A serial killer is rampant in New Orleans, folks! The police suggest not to stay out after dark if you don’t want your guts scooped out! Hah!” Tom let out a sigh as he thought back to her voice. That voice which was rough, yet he was sure she could sing, sing wonderfully like a chirping bird in a swaying forest. A morbid voice full of insults left and right yet perhaps they could belittle him. Belittle him when he is on his knees for her and begging for her affection.

Tom pushed the back door open, stumbling out into the dark. Something scampered over his feet, and he hissed. The rat burrowed itself in a tin can nestled at the side of the building. Tom spat at it, spit mingling into the dirty alley. The door slammed behind him, the bar light grazing the brick wall which dully stared back at him.

That buzz of the alcohol was wearing off replacing it with a yawning hole in his stomach. An emptiness that gnawed away at him and crawled on his skin. He blinked, fumbling with the pockets of his jacket. Tom licked his lips, yes, a smoke would ease the nerves. Clara rather hated the smell in the house.

He dug a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and hissed as he rummaged around in his pockets for a lighter. His fingers dug deep in the corners to no avail. “Damn…” Tom gritted his teeth.

“Need a light?” A charming voice said from the shadows.

“FUCK!” Tom stumbled back, grabbing his hat and staring around into the shadows. Finally, he spotted the owner of the voice. It was a man leaning against the brick wall, his glasses reflecting in the moonlight. The street was quiet at this hour, an occasional flash of lights. All Tom could see was the man’s silhouette, a phantom of the night. The only trace of a human could be seen by the cigarette’s feeble light: a light which revealed the man’s glistening smile.

“Now that’s hardly a way to greet someone, is it?” The shadow laughed, a puff of air coiling from his lips. “Now…do you need a light?” A lighter glowed in the dark, sun kissed hands holding it out to Tom.

Tom chewed the inside of his mouth, glancing down at his unlit cigarette. “Fine…” He stalked over to the shadow and snatched the lighter from his hand. Swiftly, he lit the butt of his cigarette, clicking the lighter open and raised it to his lips. A wave of euphoria danced on his tongue as he inhaled the wispy smoke. Tom handed it back to the outstretched hand and said quietly, “Thanks, man…”

“It is my pleasure, Tom Trench…” The shadow replied with that very steady voice.

“Yeah…” Tom took another puff, letting the smoke mingle with the humid night air. Then he blinked, once, then twice, and turned towards the gleaming smile in the dark. “How do you know my name?”

“Just a fan!” The voice replied. The smile was all too glistening and white, teeth snipping every word into pieces. “You’re Katie Killjoy’s secondhand man, hm?”

“Always nice to meet a fan,” Tom Trench admitted, and he leaned back against the brick wall next to the man. “Katie Killjoy…you know she’s so fuckable.”

The shadow beside him chuckled. “Yes, it's quite obvious how you talk to her.” His phantom loafer kicking a stray can out of the alley. My! What dirty minded things. Wonder what dear Clara would say.”

Tom’s heart dropped at those words, and he shifted to face the shadow man, shoulder pressing hard into the brick. He asked quietly, “What the hell did you just say?”

“Did I hit a sore spot with the dashing Radio Star?” the shadow man teased. Tom Trench shoved the cigarette in between his teeth and pulled up his sleeves. “No need for violence my good man…” the man assured, flapping a hand cloaked in darkness. “Let’s just…talk…”

“Uh huh. I doubt that my good man.” Tom Trench mocked. A nasty fire was burning at his rib cage, threatening to spill over any minute. Tom glanced over at the shadow man who was still leaning on the wall. His smile…it was strange…odd…it never seemed to rest. “What are you doing hanging out in a dark alley, creep?” Tom asked.

The shadow man let out a long sigh, a breath of smoke coiling in the air like a long slithering snake. “Why…I am so glad you asked, Mr. Trench…” The words slipped off the shadow’s tongue, slicing through the New Orlean’s night.

Hair prickled on the back of Tom’s neck, a thousand needles sticking straight up in the air. The streetlights beckoned him, a hand of light pulling him back into the arms of warmth. With an idle hand, he let his cigarette fall to the dirtied alleyway and with his loafer he snuffed it out. He took a step, adjusting his hat that smothered his blonde locks and said, “I should really get home. My wife must be worried sick–”

“No…” a command and a firm hand slammed Tom into the brick wall, hard. A hand was planted in his chest, keeping him there, trapping him there. Pain streaked up his back. Something screamed in the back of his head. The smile looked at him, sneered, whatever eyes were there were lost in the black of the Louisiana night. “I’m not finished with you.”

Tom Trench gritted his teeth, whatever pathetic child that screamed within him was shoved back down. The fire shoving its way up his throat and spilling forth, “The fuck is wrong with you?!” His leg shot out hitting the shadow flat in the stomach, making it stumble back into the dark from whence it had come. His fists clenched, powered with newfound fury, “You touch me again and you’re dead.”

“Temper. Temper.” The shadow’s finger wagged. “I thought we were going to have a civil conversation, sir.” A bite, something new, a bit of anger seeped into the voice. “I suppose not!”

Pain, horribly searing pain, enough to feel like the fires of Hell were licking away at his skin. Deep, it twisted in his insides. He screamed but nothing came out. “Did you fucking stab me?” he wanted to say. He wanted to scream. Nothing. Tom grasped at his throat, then a slickness stuck to the skin of his stomach. He tried to scream again, summoning whatever air he could yet nothing. A feeble gasp of air. He fell to his knees, pain streaking up his legs, disgust crawling on his skin.

He couldn’t scream.

A hand grabbed his chin, roughly, tilting him up towards the sky, to stare at that gleaming smile. “What did you do to me?” Tom wanted to whisper, scream, speak, say a thing. His mouth moved, his tongue too, nothing, not a single word.

“Shush…” is all the shadow said, “Save your breath. You only have so much left.” It let Tom’s chin go, letting him fall to the ground, gasping, begging for another gulp of breath. Everything in him melted, he was losing air, breath. What the fuck did he stab? “Do you know what happens when the diaphragm is punctured?” The shadow asked.

Tom was drowning in air, in the thing that had given him life for so long. He shook his head, slow steady tears streaming down his face. How long do I have? His palms fell to the dirtied ground. A rat snickered at him, scampering away with a bit of cheese. The street. The lights were beginning to blur. White into yellow and yellow into white and into the summer night. Heaven?

He hoped.

Get to the street. He dragged himself along, grabbing onto a trash can. It came tumbling down, falling over his pristine blue suit. Air. He wanted it. So bad. More than life itself. No, it was life. It was there…he could taste it…feel it caress his skin. A shaking hand reached out. Help. If only he could scream.

“The body slowly begins to lose air as I am sure you are experiencing now.” The shadow followed behind, taunting him. “No, no, no, sir. I don’t believe you can go out on the streets in this condition.” The shadow chuckled. Fingers hooked around Tom’s neck, raising him up into the air. The fingernails dug in, squeezing whatever freedom his throat had left.

“Do you want to die, Mr. Trench? Do you want this pain to end?” The shadow asked. Tom nodded. Nodded desperately. End. End. A word he rather hated up until now. “Well, it's only a matter of time unless you’d like to grovel? Oh wait…you can’t!”

“Fuck you.” Tom tried to say. A whisper. That was all he wanted. The words formed on his lips but never mingled in the air. Pain screamed throughout his body even though he couldn’t.

“Hah! You have quite the dirty mouth, sir! With or without a voice!” The shadow said. The fingers let Tom’s neck slip through them, and Tom fell to the ground. His lungs screamed for air, whatever voice inside his head prayed for the end. Now that Death was sucking whatever life was out of him, he prayed. Tom clasped his shaky hands, begging whatever God was out there for mercy, for love.

“Forgive me. Forgive me,” he begged in his head.

The shadow squatted down on his knees, his shining loafers glistening with red. “Praying now, are we? Pathetic.” Tom’s eyes were closing, head drooping. Death was close, it was closing its firm grip on him. Squeezing him. “Look at me when I talk to you.”

Tom gritted his teeth. “No.” On the gravel, he clenched his hands into fists. That damned bastard had taken enough already.

“Don’t you want to see the face of your executioner?” A single finger tilted his chin up.

A flicker of the lighter washed over the shadow before him. Human features stared back at him, human eyes. Yet that smile, a smile with far too many teeth, grinning from human ear to ear. It wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. A beast that had crawled up from the depths of hell.

The shadow man extended a bloodied hand, “Alastor Hartfelt, the Radio Star, pleasure to meet you, sir! Quite a pleasure!”

[alastor-simp-page]

A mini Radiodust drabble to celebrate their win in the poll!

Songbird:

Words: ~1K

A songbird was perched upon his piano in the middle of a dusty club. Not a typical songbird but a man donned in a gown of silver and gold. A voice of an angel yet the wicked smile of a devil. And Alastor, the Great Terrifying Radio Demon, was not for dances nor trivial romances. No, not romances, a simple thing such as this. Things he used to do in life, a gal upon his piano singing along to his tune and batted her lashes. 

Perhaps it was the way the young man held himself or the way the voice of this songbird drew him in. So here, he was sitting upon the bench of a piano, playing for a stranger. An effeminate stranger with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

And then the stranger began to sing, soft as silk and teasing as a smile, “Strangers in the night exchanging glances.” His mismatched eyes dragged over Alastor’s, an enchanting pink and gold: the color of a sunrise. Alastor moved his lips to the words, silent and calculating as his songbird continued. 

“Wondering in the night, what were the chances?” Fingers smooth along the keys, he knew where to press and where to pause. An instrument of millions of sounds and emotions. And it felt as though it was just them. The people mingling about didn’t exist, simply figures in that hazy smoke clouding his mind. At the very center of this cloud was this man…this stranger…this wonderfully curious stranger. 

“We'd be sharing love before the night was through” Alastor dared to look up, a quick glance, a harmless peek. And the man was splayed on the piano, hands cupping his chin, heels in the air as he watched his musician play. Their hot mingled breath left his heart hammering against his chest. It was enough that he thought it would split his ribcage in two. 

And the man was too close. Far too close. Alastor could count every hair upon his songbird’s head, feel his breath on his collar, warm and honeyed. And worst? He could smell that intoxicating perfume. Sweet jasmine with a hint of smoke. It clung to him like a memory. A part of him wanted to revel in it, join in, become one voice with the man before him.

And the other part won out. 

With the hastiness of a flustered, sputtering man, he fled. The ghost of his fingertips marking the ivory keys and his songbird left without his tune. The Radio Demon carded his hair, pushing through the protesting crowd and stumbling over his feet. 

—--------

Nursing a bottle of rye, he consulted his wounded ego. A man? A lovely man was the source of this…far too familiar feeling. A feeling he hadn’t felt with most, almost none he could say. And yet there it was like a steady drum, pounding at the back of his head, bombarding him with that voice, that gaze, that face. The face of a man.

What was his name? He shook the thought from his mind. It wouldn’t be wise to think of such things. A name. What a precious thing. He couldn’t risk knowing such an intimate thing. A name…a name which he longed to say. A name he wanted to roll off his tongue as he saw his songbird again. 

Alastor let out a long sigh, swirling his thumb around the rim of rye and gazing out to the city lights. The grit of the alley did not suit a man such as he, pretty suit and all yet here he was. He had seen men as he was now: numb and sore, a haunted face of self reflection. It was not a good look. 

“Heya, doll. Why’d you leave me hanging?” A lilted voice asked. Alastor blinked, slowly and turned around. In the light of the club, stood a shadow akin to the dashing stranger. As he leaned down, those wonderful mismatched eyes came into focus. 

“My apologies, I had business to attend to,” Alastor said quite stiffly. It was a blatant lie. Oh, how he wished he had gone home instead. Why had he stuck around? To meet this stranger once again? Perhaps. His insides twisted and he jerked his head back to glare back into the ether of darkness. 

“Making love to your rye, eh?” The stranger settled himself on the gritty steps. Alastor’s mouth twitched. How could he so carelessly ruin such a pretty dress? He decided not to answer. It would be admitting that he was lying. Which he was. And making a fool of himself too. It wasn’t as if he looked more foolish than now. A man claiming to have business while sitting on the back steps of a club. Oh, the humanity!

“Don’t you have more patrons to entertain, songbird?” Alastor said in a quiet voice, a hint of a bite. For a man so used to tearing apart any annoyance, he found himself quite fond of this one. An annoyance which made his heart race and his cheeks redden. It was an odd feeling.  

“I have a name you know, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Creepy,” the stranger teased. Alastor furrowed his brows at that. Ah yes, haha, how hilarious. Yet that smile stitched on his face remained. And I do too is what he wanted to say.

Alastor propped his elbow on his knee, rye clasped in his gloved hand. Despite the uncomfortable feeling of bee stings and butterflies, he turned his gaze to the songbird. “And what is that, my dear?”

“Angel. Angel Dust,” The stranger, Angel Dust said quite proudly. It was a pretty name. A name fit for a man of his stature, his elegance and his style. However, at the grin on the Spider Demon’s face, there was more to the name than just that. 

Angel. Angel Dust. A sweet name which rolled off the tongue just as he had hoped. Like it belonged there, mingling in his breath and words. It was truly a name befitting such an angel. An angel with a voice of soft velvet and sweet lilacs. Alastor so desperately wanted to cling onto each lyric he sang, every hymn that lovely voice embraced. 

“Alastor!” The Radio Demon said cheerily, offering a hand. The lovely Angel Dust took it, his hand rather warm in Alastor’s hand. 

And Alastor didn’t want to let go.

A/N:

Ehhhh, its only 1K but it was a nice warm up! I have been wanting to write Radiodust for SOOOOO long! It's so cute. And Alastor has no idea what he's getting himself into XD

[alastor-simp-page]

The Gang Goes to Cannibal Town!

IT IS FINISHED! This is going to be a series which follows the style of It's Always Sunny in Philly with a twist! It's our favorite Hazbin characters in a bit more of a chaotic Hell!

I love this so much. I just hope you like it!

Says it in the title folks! I will yap for no longer. READ!

Charlie was a lump on the couch and was in complete disarray in the front lobby. She shoved the heels of her palms into her eyeballs and half screamed, half whispered, “WHY ISN’T THIS HOTEL WORKING! I’ve tried therapy, group hugs, exorcisms, donuts, puppies! NOTHING WORKS” she counted on her fingers and then let out a loud groan. 

“Eh, I don’t know, toots.” Angel Dust leaned back on the couch splaying his long legs and making a sour face at his phone. “Who the fuck does Tiffany Titfucker think she is? I’ve got the best boobs in all of Pentagram City!” 

Ugh, great. Here he goes. 

Vaggie stared at Angel and deadpanned, “You don’t even have boobs, dumbass.” 

“That’s transphobic,” Angel spat. 

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN TRANS!” And then Vaggie let her head fall into her lap and rolled over to face the couch cushions. 

“Don’t insult my boobs, ever…boob lover .” Angel affectionately petted his fake obviously puffed out chest. 

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Vaggie asked the couch cushion, not bothering to turn to him. Charlie sat defeated watching the two argue and then a shadowy hand fell on her shoulder. 

“My, my, my, what is all the fuss about?” A lilted voice asked behind her and she looked up to see a charming smile plastered on the Radio Demon’s face. Crackly static from the nearby radio made her heart jump. “Ladies and gentlemen, why don’t we all settle down?” He sang in that delightful voice of his, “I may have a solution to our problem.”

Vaggie frowned and demanded, “Are you sure it's not going to add to our problem?” 

In less than a heartbeat, his shadowy figure sank into the floor and sprouted up behind Vaggie. “Why, don’t fret a little hair on your grey head! I’ve got it all sorted out, my dear!” He patted Vaggie affectionately on the head and she swatted him away. 

“Just spit out, Smiles.” Angel said with little amusement. 

Man, he must be really bummed out by Tiffany Titfucker. 

“Let’s go to Cannibal Town to find some sinners to redeem!” Alastor proclaimed, spinning around in his pinstripe suit and tapping each of their knees a singular time with his cane. 

Cannibal Town? 

“You’re out of your goddamn mind, Alastor.” Vaggie huffed and crossed her arms firmly over her hotel uniform. Even with a single eye, that glare could still triple kill anyone on sight. However, Alastor was indifferent to her attempts. 

“Are there any hotties there?” Angel raised an eyebrow and sat up.

Cannibal Town.

Charlie had already gone once before and it was rather…nice. Peaceful. Sweet. It would be a perfect place to scout out any potential guests for the hotel. Apart from their eating habits, the whole lot was quite harmless and polite. 

“Let’s go to Cannibal Town!” Charlie yelled and leapt up. 

Vaggie tried, “CHARLIE NO!” 

The Gang Goes to Cannibal Town

“This is a terrible idea, Charlie. What happens if you get hurt? They’re cannibals.” Vaggie urged beside her as the gang trudged down the sidewalk. “They eat people. Isn’t that enough to stay away.” 

“But they’re nice cannibals,” Charlie insisted. 

“THEY EAT PEOPLE!” 

“And they fuck like they eat. Sign me up!” Angel Dust said, skipping along the blood stained sidewalk.  

Vaggie let out a defeated sigh and face planted herself. 

“Just give it a try, Vaggie. They’re really sweet. And there’s this lady called Rosie and she’s just…very polite. It’s unusual for Hell, don’t you think?” Charlie turned a starry eyed look to Vaggie’s dull stare.

“I doubt it.”

The Link to the Rest: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65853877

[alastor-simp-page]

I’m still working on my hazbin hotel it’s always sunny AU “THE GANG GOES TO CANNIBAL TOWN” episodic. Really the only AU is that it’s the same bizarre, humor and ridiculousness.

Pretty much everything goes terribly wrong and /or escalates.

The gang: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Lucifer, and Angel Dust.

[alastor-simp-page]

I wrote only 500 words of the soulmate curse. Bruh I hated every version of chapter 9 I wrote 😭😭😭

I’m happy about it though! It’s better than crashing out ig. FAM I PROMISE I AM WORKING ON IT!

[alastor-simp-page]

SNEAK PEAK OF MY HAZBIN HOTEL X ITS ALWAYS SUNNY AU

Btw you don’t need to watch it’s always sunny to understand. It’s just the style I’m imitating: ridiculousness, absurdity, escalation, and people who never learn.

Warning: little to no romance or shipping. Just silliness.

The Gang Goes to Cannibal Town:

Charlie was a lump on the couch and was in complete disarray in the front lobby. She shoved the heels of her palms into her eyeballs and half screamed, half whispered, “WHY ISN’T THIS HOTEL WORKING! I’ve tried therapy, group hugs, exorcisms, donuts, puppies! NOTHING WORKS”

“Eh, I don’t know, toots.” Angel Dust leaned back a bit more on the couch, making a sour face at his phone. “Who the fuck does Tiffany Titfucker think she is? I’ve got the best boobs in all of Pentagram City!” Ugh, great. Here he goes.

Vaggie stared at Angel and deadpanned, “You don’t even have boobs, dumbass.”

“That’s transphobic,” Angel spat.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN TRANS!” And then Vaggie let her head fall into her lap and rolled over to face the couch cushions.

“Don’t insult my boobs, ever…boob lover.” Angel affectionately petted his fake obviously puffed out chest.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Vaggie asked the couch cushion, not bothering to turn to him. Charlie sat defeated watching the two argue and then a shadowy hand fell on her shoulder.

“My, my, my, what is all the fuss about?” A lilted voice asked behind her and she looked up to see a charming smile plastered on the Radio Demon’s face. A little crackly static from the nearby radio made her heart jump. “Ladies and gentlemen, why don’t we all settle down?” He sang in that delightful voice of his, “I may have a solution to our problem.”

Vaggie frowned and demanded, “Are you sure its not going to add to our problem?”

In less than a heartbeat, his shadowy figure sank into the floor and sprouted up behind Vaggie. “Why, don’t fret a little hair on your grey head! I’ve got it all sorted out, my dear!” He patted Vaggie affectionately on the head and she swatted him away.

“Just spit it out, Smiles.” Angel said with little amusement. Man, he must be really bummed out by Tiffany Titfucker.

“Let’s go to Cannibal Town to find some sinners to redeem!” Alastor proclaimed, spinning around in his pinstripe suit and tapping each of their knees a singular time. Cannibal Town?

“You’re out of your goddamn mind, Alastor.” Vaggie huffed and crossed her arms firmly over her hotel uniform. Even with a single eye, that glare could still triple kill anyone on sight. However, Alastor was indifferent to her attempts.

“Are there any hotties there?” Angel raised an eyebrow and sat up.

Cannibal Town. She had already gone once before and it was rather…nice. Peaceful. Sweet. It would be a perfect place to scout out any potential guests for the hotel. Apart from their eating habits, the whole lot was quite harmless and polite.

“Let’s go to Cannibal Town!” Charlie yelled and leapt up.

Vaggie tried, “CHARLIE NO!”

The Gang Goes to Cannibal Town

[alastor-simp-page]

And how would niffty get her clone army?

Hmmmm. “Niffty somehow returned” or maybe Baxter would help her!

[alastor-simp-page]

That's honestly what I meant. What if he had an army of Nifftys as his followers.

He'd be unstoppable. A bunch of ravenous Niffties? Not even God would stand a chance.

[alastor-simp-page]

What if Alastor had a big harem of niffty clones?

Honestly I don’t think he’d be a poly guy but he would love infinite Niffty fan girls. He’s got a big ego to feed.

Also I love how deranged they both are. It’s giving villain and devoted henchwomen!!!

[alastor-simp-page]

[alastor-simp-page]

Someone just wrote 4 comments on my fic. I AM SO HAPPY <33333

[alastor-simp-page]

Welcome to My Writing Blog!

Welcome to my little corner on this hellsite! Here I can be free cringe romantic that enjoys writing dysfunctional complicated relationships. Do you like angst, ridiculousness and drama? Well, you've come to the right place!

My AO3

Fandoms: Hazbin Hotel, Gravity Falls, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Miraculous Ladybug Ships I Write: Charlastor, Huskerdust, Cherrimoth, Radioapple, Chaggie, Fiddauthor Writing Vibes: Drama, enemies-to-lovers, crack taken seriously, hurt/no comfort, angst. So much angst.

HAZBIN HOTEL FICS

Hazbin Hotel Incorrect Quotes (Episodic)

Words: 2k+ | Chapters: 16/? | Rating: Mature

A chaotic, dialogue-only humor fic featuring memes, incorrect quotes, and romantic entanglements galore.

Ships: Charlie/Vaggie, Alastor/Charlie, Angel Dust/Husk, Alastor/Lucifer, Lucifer/Lilith, etc

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Comedy, Tumblr Humor, Implied Sex

The Soulmate Curse (WIP)

Words: 35k+ | Chapters: 8/? | Rating: Mature

Soulmates sound romantic—until it’s a curse. Alastor and Charlie spiral through emotional minefields, denial, and bad decisions.

Ships: Alastor/Charlie, Angel Dust/Husk, Charlie/Vaggie, Cherri Bomb/Vaggie, Niffty/Lucifer

Tags: Soulmate AU, Emotional Angst, Dysfunction, Complicated Relationships, Bad Parenting, Hurt/Comfort

You Always Lead (✅)

Words: 7k+ | Rating: Mature

Charlie promises Alastor power, pleasure, and devotion—but at what cost?

Tags: Soul Selling, Blood Kink, Power Dynamics

The Princess and the Cat (✅)

Words: 5k+ | Rating: Mature

A fairytale-flavored Princess and the Frog sort of crackfic featuring cursed cat Alastor, royal hijinks, and flirty fluff.

Tags: Humor, Fluff, Cursed Transformation, Fairy Tale AU (ish)

The Bottom of the Bottle Never Has Answers (✅)

Words: 4k+ | Rating: Mature

Alastor and Lucifer drink, bicker, and unravel.

Tags: Depression, Drinking, Emotional Baggage, Angst, Enemies with Benefit (sort of)

The Radio Demon Attempts to Make a Deal with the King of Hell (✅)

Words: 4k+ | Rating: Teen

Sharp tongues, bitter deals, and unspoken tension.

Tags: Demon Politics, Grumpy Old Men, Emotional Denial, Angst

The King of Hell Attempts to Comfort the Radio Demon (✅)

Words: 3k+ | Rating: Teen

Lucifer and Alastor are home alone and are left to find comfort in each other.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Pillow Talk.

Til Murder Do Us Part (Unpublished WIP)

Words: ? | Rating: Mature

Alastor and Charlie are plunged into a 1920s New Orleans AU. Charlie, a hopeful dreamer, in an oppressive world grapples with society while her cynical husbands slowly reveals that he’s more than just a pretty face.

Tags: Arranged Marriage, Complicated Relationships, Murder, Discrimination & Oppression

GRAVITY FALLS FICS

Tell Me I’m Crazy (WIP)

Words: 6k+ | Chapters: 2/? | Rating: Mature

A thief and a sheriff walk into a love story neither of them asked for.

Ships: Stan Pines/OC

Tags: Age Gap, Enemies to Lovers, Thief x Cop, Comedy, Slow Burn

Memory Wipe Log: #333 (✅)

Words: 924 | Rating: Mature

Fiddleford wants to forget but can't seem to shake these feelings.

Tags: Doomed Love, Lab Bros, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort

CROSSOVER FICS

Hi, this is my super little corner of weirdness.

You’re Acutie Though a Bit Obtuse, Right? (WIP)

Words: 9k+| Chapters: 2/? | Rating: Mature

Post-Weirdmageddon. Charlie meets Bill Cipher. Alastor hates it. So begins a beautiful disaster.

Ships: Bill Cipher/Charlie, Alastor/Charlie, Angel Dust/Husk, Bill Cipher/Ford Pines

Tags: Love Triangle, Chaos, Emotional Manipulation, Corruption, BAMF Charlie, Crack Taken Seriously

It's Always Sunny in Hell (Episodic)

A Hazbin Hotel x It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia crossover episodic. Think of the Simpsons or sitcoms! Just silly situation that the gangs gets into!

💬 Drop comments, ask about upcoming chapters, or share your thoughts and theories! I love hearing from you!

🔄 Reblog if you want to spread the chaotic love.

🌟 Follow for more updates, AUs, and new fics. I’m always working on something new!

And, of course, thank you for reading! Your support means the world to me. 💖

[alastor-simp-page]

me: I write for myself, not validation

also me after posting a fic *refreshes ao3 every five minutes*

(two things can be true)

[alastor-simp-page]

Hazbin Hotel x It's Always Sunny in Philly AU?

Anyone? Anyone? Too niche? Eh what the hell. Here's the cast. I'm working on it. And its kinda less stressful to make cuz none of it has to connect in one long fic.

To clarify I am keeping the personalities but putting them in the roles of the characters of those in it's always sunny in philly. soo...things might get messy cuz so much stuff happened in IASIP but im gonna ignore. The dynamics and chaos is what matters.

I tried to match them as best as I could.

Cast:

Main Gang Pairings:

Alastor = Dennis Reynolds

Charlie Morningstar = Charlie Kelly

Lucifer = Frank Reynolds

Vaggie = Dee Reynolds

Angel Dust = Mac (Ronald McDonald)

Supporting & Recurring Characters:

Husk = Rickety Cricket

Niffty = Maureen Ponderosa

Sir Pentious = Bill Ponderosa

Emily = The Waitress

Cherri Bomb = Artemis

Valentino = Liam McPoyle

Vox = Ryan McPoyle

Velvette = Gail the Snail

(we kinda have royalhalo in there <333)

[alastor-simp-page]

"I didn't comment on a fic I liked because I don't think the author would care or remember my comment anyway". fanfic writer here, I still remember comments I got on my fics from seven years ago. I still think about them and they still make me smile. your kind comments are what motivates us and what helps us keep writing.

I personally know writers who take screenshot and print out comments they got from their readers.

TL;DR comments matter to us writers more than you think. if you like a fanfic, never be shy to let the author know ♡

[alastor-simp-page]

Should I try doing a charlastor one-shot to dip my feet back into the charlastor ship before launching myself into the Soulmate Curse again? Just as a soft start. It's been...AWHILE.