can you draw klavier gavin ?!
yeah sure :-)
Also, as a side note: if any of you ace attorney fans out there want to listen to a courtroom/law themed love song, theres one from the 1920’s called ‘my fate is in your hands’ !!! (link)
(the best cover imo is by josephine baker. Also if any of you don’t know who that is, you should read the wikipedia page for josephine baker because she was like the coolest woman of all time)
With lyrics like ‘wanting you is my offense, you have all the evidence, now i wait for you to sentence me.’ And ‘there’s no use pretending, love needs no defending, what is the verdict? My fate is in your hands.’ i feel like this is a song every ace attorney fan should listen to.
(Also my real motive here is that i just want everyone to listen to more 20s music. i love 20s music)
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Hazbin Having Blues
ALASTOR x READER
Summary: You and Alastor hate each other in every respect. But what if something did help you get along?
Warnings: NONE.
This is kind of a backstory for my fic 'Only for You' based on the line "how you get got along in the first place" and inspired by @anon-of-the-void
Requests are still open!!
The Hazbin Hotel was a bustling haven for lost souls seeking redemption, but amidst the chaos and colorful characters, a particularly unique dynamic brewed between Alastor, the Radio Demon, and the new arrival…you.
The animosity between you and Alastor was palpable since day one, with every interaction echoing with sharp, witty remarks that cut through the air like daggers.The constant banter between you both created an uncomfortable atmosphere within the hotel, much to the dismay of the optimistic and ever-hopeful Charlie. Despite the young Moringstar’s best efforts to foster a sense of unity and camaraderie, the stalemate in this war of words persisted. Alastor, with his charismatic and devilish charm, found himself enjoying to harp down upon what he saw to be a gross naivety and unmannerly conduct. Meanwhile, you were a soul unafraid to stand up to the radio demon's antics, viewing him as nothing more than a pompous and insufferable presence.
Simply, Alastor and yourself had developed a fierce dislike for each other. The verbal sparring matches were legendary within the walls of the hotel, often leaving other residents uncomfortable and seeking refuge from the bickering.
Insulting conversations include but are not limited to:
“Well, well, if it isn't the radio demon himself. Did you run out of jazz records to torture people with?” “Ah, my dear, I always save the best tunes for special occasions. Unlike your taste in humor.”
“Look who decided to join the conversation. Are you here to dazzle us with your sparkling personality?” “Better than your attempt at a fashion statement. Monochromatic stripes, Al? Even Hell has standards.”
“Heard you like to play games, Alastor. How about a round of ‘Guess What My Expression Means’?” “My, my, how thrilling. I'll start: my face means I'm thoroughly unimpressed by your attempts at banter.”
“You know, Y/N, they say laughter is the best medicine. Too bad it can't cure your lack of charm.” “And they say pride goes before a fall. How's the weather down there, high and mighty?”
One evening, however, something changed.
As Alastor wandered the halls, his keen senses picked up on a faint sound emanating from your room. The unmistakable notes of a trumpet played with soulful precision, and a voice as smooth as molasses crooned lyrics that resonated with a timeless elegance. Intrigued, Alastor pressed his ear against the door. Deciding that was not enough, he slunk into the shadows and appeared in the room behind you.
Inside, you sat alone(you thought you were alone at least) immersed in the soothing melodies of Louis Armstrong's "West End Blues." and Etta James “Bye Bye Blackbird” on LPs for the record player you had thrifted. The soulful and jazzy tunes seemed to transport you to another world, away from the chaos of the hotel. Unbeknownst to you, Alastor found himself captivated by the same enchanting spell.
Alastor found himself captivated by the soulful notes. He couldn't help but appreciate the musical talent behind the song. He couldn't deny the care and emotion woven into each note, and for the first time, Alastor recognized something within you that transcended the ongoing feud. That something he wasn’t quite sure what it was but it was…different. Yes, the songs had come out in 1928 and 1926 respectively, he was alive when they graced the radio waves for the first time. Often finding himself tapping along to a beat in Mimzy’s lounge back then. How did you come to know something of such class when he found you to be a peasant in most respects?
But instead of announcing his presence with a snide remark, Alastor leaned against the doorframe, silently appreciating the moment. When the final notes faded away, he couldn't help but admit with a slow clap, "Not bad, Y/N. Not bad at all."
You, startled by his unexpected appearance, yelped and eyed him suspiciously. "What are you doing in my room, radio head?!"
Alastor smirked, his usual air of arrogance softened by a newfound appreciation. "Just thought I'd acknowledge the good taste when I hear it. That Armstrong fellow knows how to play a mean trumpet."
Raising an eyebrow, you were surprised by the change in tone. "Yeah…what about it?"
“Nothing my dear, simply acknowledging. You may not be such a ducky afterall.” Slinking back into the shadows, Alastor disappeared as quickly as he had come.
You were taken aback but managed a nod of acknowledgment. The tension between the two of you began to ease as Alastor, in his own peculiar way, had found common ground through music.
From that day forward, the interactions shifted. While the witty banter persisted, there was a newfound respect lingering in the air, as if the shared appreciation for timeless jazz classics had bridged an unexpected connection between two souls trapped in the chaotic tapestry of the Hazbin Hotel.
Over time, the insults became less frequent, replaced by a begrudging mutual respect. The other residents were astounded by the change, especially Charlie, who believed her intervention had led to a surprising connection between two seemingly incompatible souls.(My apologies dear Morningstar, trust falls and all…simply not the case.)
As Alastor and you had found a shared appreciation for music, discovering that beneath demonic exteriors, there was more to each other than met the eye. Alastor often found himself up in his radio tower, listening to the jazzy tunes he knew would draw you in. And like a very good little pet, as he liked to call you, you would climb the stairs and sit next to him in silence. Listening and tapping your foot along to the beat, only to leave a few hours later. As the time went on, a few weeks or so, conversation slowly filtered into the listening sessions. Turns out…maybe both of your distastes for each other might not have completely founded. Not that you would ever admit that to his face, nor him to yours.
The Hazbin Hotel, once filled with discord, became a place where even the most unlikely friendships could blossom. And maybe, just maybe dear reader, that friendship could be something more. Alastor did look good in monochromatic stripes anyway.
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