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Not all bonds are soft. Some are forged in shadow, built on trust that cuts deeper than sentiment. Honor yours by standing unafraid.

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You may think you’re the predator, but my darling reminds me daily: the most dangerous creatures are those who smile while they hunt.

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Finally our official Carrd site has launched, all made by me! Feel free to check it out if you haven’t already!

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Two aces 🖤🩶🤍💜

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learning how to drive in america is like a fucking saw trap.

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i think short oneshot writers need to start humblebragging about our wordcounts the way longfic writers do.

"tee hee.. yes it's only 1200 words long! i suppose i'm just naturally concise! funny how that just happens! hashtag relatable!"

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Group art therapy or teambuilding exercise or something, Hell if I know.

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To Make You Smile

Synopsis: They say he was born with a smile too big for his face. But that wasn’t the whole truth. The smile came later. After he learned what a mother’s sorrow sounds like. After he decided, with all the solemnity a six-year-old could muster, that he’d never let her cry alone again.

Content: No warnings. SFW. Wholesome Fluff. Alastor backstory glimpse.

Alastor was the kind of child who sensed emotion like a bloodhound, and if it was someone he cared about? He’d use every tool in his little budding showman brain to turn their sadness into a spotlight for joy. Not the fake kind. Not the cheap kind. The kind he crafted just for them.

His maman has got her head in her hands at the kitchen table, elbows resting on a worn cloth, the kind of exhaustion that weighs in your bones, not just your body. Maybe the stew burned. Maybe she got shorted at the market. Maybe the world was just too much that day.

And then here comes her boy. Barefoot. Grinning. Eyes too big for his face, full of mischief and moonlight beneath those curls.

“Ahem,” he says in a terrible British accent, holding up a half-peeled potato like it’s royalty.

“Well I never, Madame Onion, you simply cannot expect me to bathe in that stew. I have standards.”

From the side, a fork wrapped in a napkin leans in.

“You’ll go in the pot like the rest of us, Your Spudliness! No more drama!”

He throws in some sound effects, a splash made by slapping the table, a dramatic faint from the potato, even a coughing carrot.

“My starches! I’m dissolving! Help meeeeee!”

She starts laughing before she even realizes it. A soft snort at first.

Then her shoulders shake. Then she’s laughing so hard she’s crying, and she mutters, “Alastor, mo petit, you are insufferable…”

And he just grins that huge, too-proud smile, standing hands on hips like a tiny showman.

“Yes, but you laughed. So I win.”

And now?

Now when Jax has her head down, burdened by thoughts heavier than stones, when shadows of old traumas and all-too familiar depressions close in, tightening around her like a vice, leaving her quiet and withdrawn in bed, eyes tracing aimless patterns on the ceiling or curled tightly in silence, she feels that gentle, invisible nudge of his presence, pulling her gently back from the edge.

She feels his claws ghosting along her shoulder, not enough to break skin but just enough to remind her who he is.

Then his radio voice:

“Coming to the stage this evening: Lady LaCroix herself, mournful, mysterious, mopey as ever!”

And he launches into a full skit, complete with:

A snobby aristocrat who thinks frowning is “unfashionable.”

A sentient handkerchief who keeps fainting from “too many tears.”

And a dramatic reading of her to-do list like it’s a cursed scroll.

Jax tries to stay serious.

She really does.

But damn it, he knows how to make her laugh.

He knows exactly where to poke, pounce, and twist the moment just right.

Once she finally cracks, when she’s gasping and giggling and holding her stomach?

His grin widens, antlers dipping low in a mock bow and says:

“See? I told you. I always win.”

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After today’s photos I bring you punk Sylvie hell yeah!

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My Boundaries

I am fictosexual and non-sharing with Alastor. However, I am not toxic about it. I understand he is extremely popular and people find their own comfort in him.

You’re welcome to interact, but I also probably won’t be moots if:

You ship Alastor with anyone.

You post NSFW or heavily suggestive content about Alastor.

Asks Boundaries

Alastor and I love receiving asks and messages from our listeners! He isn’t on the internet, but I run this blog for the both of us. Please keep it fun and respectful.

AVOID:

No NSFW or invasive personal questions. That’s private.

Don’t ask us to endorse your Alastor ship. That’s tacky as hell. Ship who you want, just keep it on your own blog.

No crude humor directed at Alastor. I’m more flexible, but he isn’t.

No jokes about Alastor’s deer traits. This is by his own request.

No asks trying to “one-up” our bond. This space is for our connection, not competition.

No trying to “fix” or debate our dynamic. We know what we’re doing.

No rudeness or toxicity. I’ll just block and we’ll probably laugh at you. Or worse, we’ll roast you Louisiana-style.

Yes to:

Ask us about our story, lore, or worldbuilding.

SFW questions about our dynamic (how we met, what we enjoy, how we handle problems, etc.)

Music, poetry, or aesthetic asks.

Questions about my demonsona powers / Alastor’s radio magic.

Fluffy or spooky headcanons.

Lighthearted hypotheticals (e.g. “What would you two do on a rainy day?”)

Compliments or art. (We love that!)

Questions about my self-ship experience, tips, or advice.

Respectful questions about asexuality or aromanticism.

Or just tell us something about you! We like making connections.

DNI (Do Not Interact) if:

Basic DNI (acephobic, arophobic, homo/ transphobic, racist, ableist, sexist, TERFs, MAPS/Pedos, Zoophiles, etc.)

You think aromantic/asexual people cannot be in happy relationships or you erase Alastor's sexuality (both tie into acephobia and arophobia).

You plan to steal my art, headcanons or stories for your own or feed them into AI. Don't even think about it, because I will not be nice.

You're under 18. I don’t write or draw smut but this is mainly for my own comfort, especially due to the adult nature of Hellaverse and the fact my content can get a little dark. Nothing personal.

You're fictophobic, anti-selfship, or mock people like me and follow cringe culture.

You self-ship romantically with Alastor.

You hate Alastor (this should be obvious lol)

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Welcome, wayward sinners! This is my masterlist for Alastor and I. I’m an Alastor artist, writer, aroace spec, and fictosexual / riako. If you don’t like that, move along.

I create both Alastor x S/I and non-ship content, divided into categories, because I honor both my version of him and the canon version. 🖤

No smut, but everything here is deeply personal, some pieces are fluff, some dark, all from my weird lil brain.

🚫 Minors & morality/cringe police DNI.

🩸 ART

☽ Just Alastor (Non-Ship)

☽ Just Jax (My demonsona)

☽ Jax x Alastor (RadioRaven)

☽ Amir-Approved (My art seen and liked by Alastor’s voice actor!)

🕯 FANFICTION

Just Alastor (Non-Ship)

☽ Death & Rebirth (bite-sized one-shot)

Jax x Alastor (RadioRaven)

☽ To Make You Smile (arguably the most lighthearted thing I’ve ever written)

🎙️ HEADCANONS

Just Alastor (Non-Ship)

☽ Alastor vs Cameras

☽ Alastor is cat-coded

Jax x Alastor (RadioRaven)

☽ Alastor’s own brand of comfort

🎞️ MEMORIES

☽ When we restored a vintage radio

🖤 All works are mine. Do not copy, plagiarize, or claim. © All rights reserved.

Steal from me, and I promise my shadows will notice.

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Dewy roses.

Tokyo, Japan.

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Alastor is running cat software on deer man hardware:

- He hunts, often at night

- Plays with his food

- He’s ✨dramatic✨

- He preens

- Likes to sit up in high places to look down and judge others

- Drags in little dead things

- Hates to be touched but more than happy to be in your space

- Has a murder button on his belly (pet it at your own risk)

- Refuses to acknowledge you when called, but comes when he decides

- Stares into corners like he sees something you don’t. Spoiler: he does.

- Will bite/growl, purrs when pleased (but it’s that creepy radio-hum-purr that rattles lightbulbs)

- Sensitive ears

- Gets the zoomies (calm one moment, hyper and energetic the next)

- Knocks shit off counters just to watch you react

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I assure you: somebody, somewhere, is on the exact same wavelength as you are.

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an aromantic person is someone who (fill in the blank here) // april 10 2024