#Alastor's face is so hard for me to draw for some reason

[allykatsart]

A Gentle Smile

Masterpost

Growing up in heaven, Emily's seen the best of humanity. She's pretty optimistic most of the time, so when she meets Alastor she takes his kindness at face value. She doesn't know he's a murderer just yet.

Alastor does see an opportunity to endeer (hah) himself to a powerful being... But he's also a gentleman. He'll be nice to her, even if it's just because it's the polite thing to do. He is the hotel's host, after all! Plus, she's better company than most of the damned souls down here!

Commission me!

Bonus!

[angelltheninth]

Hazbin Hotel Men + Predator/Prey Kink

Pairing: Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Husk, Valentino, Vox x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dom/sub dynamics, fear play, cnc, rough sex, predator/prey dynamic, dirty talk, name-calling, creampie, biting, marking, size differance

A/N: Trying out a bit of a different format to give you all a bit more content.

You pressed yourself against a tree, your nails digging into the bark, breath coming up short and fast. You could see, feel the shadows against your feet even now, remind you that there's nowhere to hide. You risked peaking behind you to see if it was safe to run. As soon as you turned the static came from your other side.

"Not very smart are you, my dear?" Alastor's long tongue licked the side of your neck and made you jump at the cold sensation. "Where are you off to so quickly?"

His shadows wrapped around your body and pulled you down against the dirt. You groaned and struggled against them, against his cold arms as they grabbed your cheeks and kept your face still. "How can you get so hard from this?" You felt his long cock twitching against your inner thigh. Your legs opened for a moment and then closed just as fast.

This wasn't fun if you weren't putting up a fight. "Your fear. I find it very arousing for some reason. I've never felt this way before. So, if you would allow me to express my deepest thanks." Alastor's sinister laugh sent shivers down your entire body. As he pushed his cock into your pussy you couldn't quite relax under him, seeing his radio dial eyes tick and tick with each thrust. "I can hear your heart. It beats only for me, for what I do to you. I want it for myself, I want you for myself, always."

Alastor's pulled his cock out and waited o hear your heart beating faster. That was a good rhythm to fuck you to he decided. The rhythm of fear and lust that you feel for him.

The house you were in felt like royalty was living there, but not the kind one would want to wine and dine with. Lucifer was the kind that liked to chase you through the empty halls, the sound of his jolly laughter and wings flapping close behind you. "Is this all you're got sweetheart, I expected a bit more from my future wife."

"Then maybe you should look for someone else." Your suggestion got you punned against the nearest walls, legs forced open and his hands holwing your wrists. "Why hide us? Are you ashamed of me, Luci?"

"Ashamed of you? Never." Even in his most horny Lucifer found himself cherishing you. He was careful not to scratch you with his horns as he kissed the side of your neck. "I don't want anyone to intrude on this moment. I don't want anyone else to see you like this. It's selfish but I've already committed enough sin as it is."

He didn't care about sinning if sinning meant feeling your sweet pussy around his dick. "Then we shouldn't be in the hallway." You tried to push him off but that only got him to push his hips all the way against yours, the slight curve of his cock rubbing against your inner walls. "Fuck you and your perfect body."

"Mhm, go right ahead. I welcome it." His pace was slow on purpose, made to drive you mad with lust. He wanted you to chase him as much as he chased you. "Go on, don't you want my cock? You better show me how much you want it." Lucifer growled as he bit your shoulder, drawing blood and making your pussy ripple around him. "My cute painslut, how rough do you want it?"

You gulped and turned to meet his demonic eyes and bloody lips. "If Heaven won't see us then make them hear us."

"Where the fuck do you think you're going little slut? I don't remember telling you you could leave." Adam's big hand wrapped around your forearm and squeezed. "I thouht I told you not to leave my bed till my dick goes soft. Imagine my surprise when I find you sneaking around my house like this." He got in close to your face, anger evident on his masked face, in his tone, you could even imagine his cock pulsing with it.

"Sorry, I thought you'd had enough." You tried to pull away but he squeezed harder. "Adam, that hurts."

He scoffed at your complaint and pulled your smaller body against his. Golden wings dragged on the floor behind him, making him look as much of an angel now as he was a demon in bed.

"You bet your hot ass it hurts." His other hand wrapped around your hip and scooped you into the air. "Wrap your legs around me. Right this damn second." He wasn't good but you still couldn't bring yourself to disobey him. "That's a good bitch. If only you were so good before I wouldn't have to punish you now. You made me leave my comfy bed for this, you better make it worth it for my dick. You hear?"

"Yes Adam, sir." You let your head fall against his chest as he pushed his thick, huge cock into your sensitive pussyhole.

"That's it, make my dick wet, yeah, like that." He cooed against your ear and wrapped his wings around you, the soft feathers caressing your naked back. "Ride my cock and beg for my forgiveness."

You hooked your legs around his hips and rose up, staring into his golden eyes. "Sorry. I'm sorry for not listening to you, sir." You licked your lips and sat back down on his cock, feeling it splitting your cunt open. "I'm sorry for leaving you. You can punish me as much as you want."

"Hell yes I can. I will. Now you're not getting off my dick all day, for real. You'll be such a pretty cocksleeve today." Something similar to a warm smile flashed across his mask before replaced by a lecherous grin.

Cats were natural predators so it wasn’t odd for Husk to suggest to chase you. He had more than one advantage, his quick cat reflexes as well as his wings. You’d lose no matter what.

“Not much of game if you lose so easily, darlin’.” Husk pushed your head against the hard floor. “You should have given me more of a challenge.” His barbed cock dragged along the outside of your slick pussy as you tried to push your hips against him harder. “Bad girl, you can’t just take whatever you want.”

You chuckled and spread your legs more so he could climb on top of you better. “And why can’t I? You already know I don’t have your stamina yet you suggested I run all over the city. The casino was my last resort.” More specifically the only casino that he still had left. It was his safe heaven. And it meant you could do anything you wanted in here.

Husk purred against the back of your neck as the tip of his cock caught on your entrance.

“Such a shame. We need to work on you stamina. You need to be able to keep up with me. Or else you’ll never keep up with me in my rut.” His cock sank in easily, aided by the wetness from your pussy. “Opening up for me so easily. But you know, I’m debating on giving you what you want. I think I’ll keep you pinned like this and not let you move an inch.”

Shit. This did some back to bit you just not in the way you expected it to.

“I’ll make you move.” You clenched your inner walls around his cock but Husk was more stubborn than most demons in Hell. He wouldn’t fold easily, not even to you.

“Keep massaging my dick sweetheart. Get all the cum out of it okay, I’ll keep us tied together.” His teeth nibbled on your shoulder while he spoke. Not only would you have his cum marking you when you walked out of here but also his bite marks.

Valentino owned everything and everyone in the Studio. That included you. When he says keep still you’re still, when he says open up you open up, when he says run you run. You won’t get far, but he lets you make it just to the door before you feel his arms wrap your your hips and lift you up into the air. “No, no, no, not outside. You know I can’t let you do that without me, my darling. There are dangerous people out there.”

Two of his hands held your legs open while the third one played with your pussy, right in front of the door where people could see. The embarrassment flushed through you and you realized that running to the door might have been a mistake. You had the whole Studio to play in yet you chose this as your destination.

“Will you punish me for trying to escape?” You tilted your head to look up at him right in time for him to cup your jaw and capture you in a kiss.

“My whore knows me so well, that’s why I like you best of all.” Valentino tasted almost sickeningly sweet, his taste made you as dizzy as his big cock being pushed inside your tight pussy. “It’s so tight already. After all that time time you spent with my cock in your cunt today.” His claws dug into your thighs as he flicked your sensitive clit, causing your overstimulated yet full pussy to obey his touch and squeeze down on his cock.

You were good for him but you still craved this, the hard, punishing thrusts if his cock. “Give me… your cum… please, Val.”

“Asking to be breed like a bitch in heat where everyone could see you, now I know you’re fit for this job. I always choose my toys well.” Valentino’s cock pulsed as it emptied it’s seed inside your womb and pushed it in while his hips smacked and press against yours. Your pussy squeezed around him as much as it could, silently begging for more.

This wasn’t a typical chase. In fact Vox insisted he could find you and make you come without even exiting his news room. You could run anywhere within Pentagram City, he could always follow you. “Wrong turn.” You heard his voice in your ear and a second later felt a pleasant vibration in your pussy.

You leaned against the brick wall for a second. You weren’t allowed to catch your breath, the vibrations only got faster, along with the slow thrusting motion. It made walking hard let alone running. But you still did, you’d play this game of his and you would get your prize.

As you turned around the corner you looked behind, half-expecting him to be there. The vibrating toy sure made it seem that way. It was modeled after Vox’s cock after all, all the way to the patterns running to the tip of it.

“Vox, I want to go back.” You breathed as you pressed against the wall, legs shaking and thighs dripping with your pussy juice. “I want you to fuck me.” You demanded not fully knowing if he could hear you too. A chuckle echoed around you, confirming that he could. The toy stopped for a moment before it started going so fast your legs could no longer hold you. You fell down on all fours, legs spread open and ass in the air, just barely hidden from the view of everyone but Vox.

“Lift your skirt, let me see what’s mine.” Shaky hands obeyed his words, giving the camera’s around the perfect view of the toy thrusting in and out of your drenched hole, your hips swaying back, trying to find more release. “Come for me, pretty girl.”

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

[allastoredeer]

I have no problem with al being a bottom, I just have a hard time with bottom king lucifer as a top. May I have examples to try and see your side?

Exhibit A:

Dat smirk.

Exhibit B:

Soft Top Lucifer

Exhibit C:

Demon Top Lucifer

Exhibit C:

That sexy shoulder bop

Exhibit D:

Look at this guy.

Exhibit E:

Obvious one.

Exhibit F:

I just wanted to post this one cuz I like his smirky little face.

LOL no, seriously though, there's no specific way a character has to act or behave to be deemed a top, bottom or switch. It's a preferred sexual position that isn't dependent on outside factors, it's just what a person enjoys, and what the reader/viewer wants that character to be. That's essentially what it is. It's not based on logic, it's based on what position the fan prefers for them to be in.

Lucifer could do his sexy little shoulder bop and still be a bottom. He can give the most suave, seductive smirk and still be a bottom. It's different for everyone.

But as for why I like top!Lucifer, here are a few reasons:

A) I really like it when shorties top. So often, in almost all fandoms I've been in, the default for a popular ship is the shorter one bottoming and the taller one topping. As a shortie myself, I just...ugh, I get so tired of it. Especially since the bottom is typically softened, UwU-ified, and turned into this delicate little flower. Bringing personal feelings into this, I've been very short and very thin all my life. I've literally been described as "delicate" before, and as someone who enjoys sports, running around, and is just a loud, rough and tumble person by nature, I absolutely hate it. It's given me a lot of mental and emotional issues, and a lot of the treatment and comments I've gotten has made me feel belittled, vulnerable, and weak. So, while being a bottom doesn't mean you're any of those things, short characters have been treated like that for a majority of the fandoms I've been in, no matter what their personality, stature, behaviors, or attitude was, and seeing it brings out of love of dark and negative feelings that I'd rather not re-live when I'm trying to enjoy myself in fandom. (Which is another reason why I dislike so much bottom!Lucifer because he's so often softened down and turned into this naive, dare I say, helpless little lamb. The moment Alastor overpowers him or easily manipulates him into a deal, I am outta there.)

B) Lucifer has that top energy. Can't explain it. He just does. To be clear, I don't see him exclusively as a top. He's a switch. But I do headcanon Alastor as exclusively a bottom, so in any radioapple relationship I write or draw, Lucifer will top.

and C) the most important reason: I like seeing Alastor get railed.

Alastor bottoms in all the ships I have for him and Lucifer is no exception. Besides, I find a lot of versatility and potential in Lucifer being with/fucking a sinner, especially considering his distaste of them. Makes for a good hate-fucking scenario, or a very emotional and in-depth character deep dive of him coming to terms with his own bias and internalized hatred of them and finding love and companionship in one of the very people he despised. That's some delicious mental turmoil and the perfect opportunity for character development.

(LOL there's a lot of talk of Alastor not bottoming because of his ego, and yet nobody considers that maybe Lucifer wouldn't bottom for Alastor because he's a sinner. He is the embodiment of pride after all. So, combining that with his disdain for sinners, would he really "stoop" so low as to let one of them fuck him? Food for thought).

But seriously though, when it comes down to it, I just like Alastor bottoming and Lucifer topping. Yes, bottom!Lucifer and top!Alastor has been soured for me due to popular fandom depictions of it, but even before those were popular, I simply preferred Alastor bottoming. I enjoy it more, not just for his character, but just...because. I just do.

Thing is, I don't think there has to be a list of reasons for why you prefer a character topping, bottoming, or switching. People are allowed to do whatever they want with these characters. It's fandom. This is a playground. We don't have to have a reason, we're just here to have fun.

If you can't see Lucifer as a top, Anon, that is a-okay 👍👍Thanks for asking for a different perspective though, it's always awesome when a person seeks to understand someone else's point of view. I don't know how well of a different perspective I offered, though. I have a hard time answering questions like these bcuz they just don't make a lot of sense to me. It's hard to say why I like something when I just...do. I just vibe with it.

To boil it all down, my examples/answers are all based on what I like and how I feel. I like bottom!Alastor cuz I enjoy it. I like top!Lucifer because I love seeing Alastor get railed - especially by a big, powerful demon king. Very yummy.

Also, LOL, considering Alastor is exclusively a bottom to me, anyone I do ship him with will automatically be the top, regardless of who they are XD So I guess that's an important factor to consider too 😂

I don't know how well I did with answering this, but I do want you to get the perspective you were looking for, so! My fellow bottom!Alastor truthers who are reading this, drop why you like bottom!Alastor in the comments below for our lovely Anon!

I'm curious about what you guys have to say too.

[lexezombie]

I had a dream a few weeks ago and for some reason Alastor was just in the bg sitting at a table watching me and the lady in my dream talk?

He looked weird so I decided to draw the dream-design <<

(This was NOT made as a fix before anyone gets confused lmao -- I'm aware he'd be a pain in the ass to animate, he's a pain in my ass to draw these 3 times << Personally, I wouldn't really change anything about Alastor if I did do an actual redesign for fun lmao I love his design how he is <3)

He had facepaint/markings that looked like a deer skull, which is hard to do on a human face but whatever (I do have an alt of this I don't like much that is more dream-accurate; he's more desaturated and has string on his antlers)

Anyway, have two edits/draw overs as I continue to tweak his colours (one I turned into a ref)

I tried to make it obvious he has fangs like actual fanged deer but I don't think that worked << (bolo tie my beloved)

I kinda fucked the wall up on the screenshot edit oops

Yall thought him being solid red was bad and blending in, this mf is the sAME COLOUR AS THE WALL (which was an accident cus I picked the colour before getting the screenshot LMAO)

[doggone-devil]

How (Not) to Summon a Demon: Chapter 3

So this one is a bit longer than I meant it to go, and I still had more to write. But to keep it from getting too long, I'm cutting it here and will continue in Chapter 4. This is going to be a bit of a slow build story, but hopefully not too long. I'm aiming for at least 10 chapters.

Pairing: Alastor x fem!Reader

Warnings: profanity, light threatening?

Normal people woke up from nightmares and were able to laugh them off as they start to recede to the back of their minds, forgotten within the hour as they go about their day. You, on the other hand, had your nightmare staring at you with a giant smile spread across their face.

Sitting on your bed, your knees drawn close to you for safety, you watch the demon currently standing in your room with wide, cautious eyes. He didn’t seem phased one bit, tilting his head every so slightly when you jumped, seeming amused at your reactions. It was starting to piss you off but fear held strong, keeping you from moving any closer to him.

“So,” you finally speak, jumping again when he straightens up to attention. “What do I have to do to make you leave?” It’s a reasonable question, you think, but the demon seems to be annoyed as his brows draw together. The smile stays and it creeps you out.

“My dear, I can not leave once our contract is fulfilled,” he explains, closing his eyes. “You see, when you summoned me, an agreement was formed. One that can not be unbroken by any means.” He opens his eyes, the red orbs staring straight through you, bringing a chill up your spine. “I grant you one wish, a desire that you so desperately want, and in return, I claim your soul for all eternity.”

“My soul,” you repeat. He nods. “For eternity.” Another nod. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”

“What?” His smile seems to falter every so slightly, twitching as you see blackened gums peek out.

“Not gonna happen. One wish for my soul? Doesn’t matter what I want, whatever it is can’t be worth my soul.” You scoot back on the bed when the demon suddenly takes a step forward. He doesn’t stop until he’s at the edge of your bed, power radiating off him in waves. It’s making you nauseous and dizzy.

“I don’t think you quite understand the predicament you’re in, darling,” he growls the last word, his voice deep and laced with harsh static. “If you don’t make a wish, I can’t leave.”

“Ok, then we’re at an impasse. Because I don’t want to lose my soul.”

“I -“ he pauses, taking a deep breath before regaining his composure. The smile is back to being stretched wide, pointy teeth almost like a threat towards you. “Surely there is something in this world you desire more than your soul. Fame? Fortune? Good health?”

You deadpan at him. “I don’t want to be famous, I can gain money on my own, and I can be healthy on my own.” You’re starting to relax every so slightly. The more this demon talks, the less you feel scared of him. His movements and actions are too human, even if his appearance isn’t, and in some twisted way that’s making your interaction with him feel normal.

“Look,” you start to say, turning to sit on the edge of your bed, “the only wish I’d wish for is that you leave and go back to wherever it is you came from. Yet even for that, I’m not selling my soul over so get comfy demon boy. You’re stuck here.” You stand and start to leave your room, but he grabs your wrist, twisting hard to make you face him. You wince at the pain that shoots up your arm.

“You know,” he glances down at you, smile turning sinister and dark, “perhaps your friend from earlier could help persuade you into making a wish.” Your eyes widen before anger takes hold.

“You wouldn’t,” you whisper. His smile growls, eyes forming into dials.

“Try me, darling.” It’s not a threat, but a warning. A promise. You know it, can feel it in your core. He’s not playing around. Tears start to form and you try to blink them away.

“I-I don’t want to give up my soul,” you sob out, knees giving out as you fall to the floor. He’s still holding your wrist, your arm dangling in his grip. All those horror movies you’ve watched in your life are flooding through to your thoughts, scenes of damned souls, of eternal fire burning away flesh in Hell. Demonic entities prodding and poking with sharp objects, torturing endlessly without mercy. Your breath quickens, your chest pounding as you begin to cough.

“Now, now, no need to panic,” the demon says softly. Shocked, you watch him kneel down to your level, pulling a handkerchief from inside his coat. He lets go of your wrist and begins to dab your cheeks, drying off the tears that have spilt over. It’s…surprisingly gentle. He speaks up again, “Would it help if I explain things a little better?” You nod weakly, your head too torn from reality at the moment to form coherent words. Your still trying to grasp the concept that, yes, demons exist and, yes, there is a Hell. This means Heaven is real, angels, and even God. Oh God. That last fact almost sends you spiraling again, your legs wobbling when you feel him lift you off the floor.

You’re back on your bed, your shoulders hunched as you stare at the floor. God is real. You weren’t really a believe, never have been. An atheist, firm in science and facts, but now God has become one. Because if this thing before you is truly a demon, then it came from Hell which has a ruler, Satan. Who did Satan come from? God. You’re so fucked.

“Darling?” You snap up, the demon’s words finally registering. “It’s rude not to listen when people are speaking to you.”

“Sorry,” you automatically apologize. It gets a quick chuckle from the demon.

“You are becoming a strange creature, mortal. Nevertheless, I told you I’d explain things better and that is just what I’m going to do. Now, where to begin? Ah, yes!” He starts to explain the mechanics of Hell, of sinners and overlords. He even tells you about the devil, Lucifer, and his daughter, Charlie. This leads down a path of him telling you about some hotel for redemption, a silly idea if you ask him, truly humorous. Next, he explains how, yes, there is a heaven and tells you what little he knows about angels. You’re starting to realize that Hell isn’t all that different from Earth, just filled with bad people instead.

You feel reality come back down for you as you take in this new information. The world doesn’t seem so off balance anymore, and from what you could tell, it seems your past actions were leading you to be a sinner anyways. While you weren’t exactly hell spawn from birth, you weren’t miss goody-two-shoes either. You’re pretty sure you’ve done a lot of things the Bible strictly says not to.

“So, wait, when I die, I might just ‘pop’ into existence there like I never died in the first place?”

“Oh no, you’ll fall. Hurts like Hell,” the demon corrects, laughing at a bit at his own pun. You roll your eyes, spotting closer to him. You don’t know when it happened, but you’re sitting criss-crossed on your bed facing the demon who mirrors you. His head is in his palms, elbows propped on his knees. You feel like you’re in high school all over again, gossiping the latest news. It’s weird.

“Will I have like horns, a tail, and leathery wings?” You nearly snort when Alastor mimicking your eye rolling.

“Do you see any of those on me?” he asks and you study his features. His hair is bright red with black tipped ends. Two tufts of, hair? Ears? You’re not sure what they are but they twitch every so often. You notice he does have horns but they’re kind of like antlers, like a - you gasp.

“Are you a deer?” you ask, eyes lighting up. You unconsciously lean forward, making the demon lean back.

“Regrettably.” He quirks a brow at you and you apologize, moving out of his bubble. Geez, what is wrong with you? This is becoming too normal, too fast. You still haven’t even gotten to the soul owning part.

“Ok, then, I have to know. If - and I’m saying a big if here - I wish for something and you take my soul, what happens?”

“When you make a wish,” he states with confidence, making you frown, “I will own your soul. Simple as that.”

“But what you do mean by own? I disappear and become a ghost in a jar? Are there puppet strings you attach to me and move me how you want? You gotta give me details here, man.”

“Nothing like that, my dear. You would be free to live your afterlife however you want, but you would be mine. You would be at my beck and call whenever I shall need you.”

“Oh.” You feel surprisingly ok with that and you don’t know if that should scare you or not. You shrug, however, standing up once more. “Well, I hate to disappoint you again, demon boy, but even if I make the wish, I have no idea what to wish for.” You actually make it out of your bedroom this time, walking to your kitchen. Afternoon light floods in from the windows, the morning gone as noon rolls through. You feel hungry with everything that’s happened so far and open your fridge to scavenge for sustenance.

“How about a new house?” the demon asks as he trails behind you, standing next to you while you rummage the shelves of the fridge. “Surely you want something bigger?”

You stand, holding a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise. “Nope!” You shut the fridge and walk to a clear counter, setting down the ingredients for your poor-man’s sandwich. “I happen to like this dainty apartment, thank you.”

“Then how about a brand new vehicle? I’m sure any woman would be thrilled to have a cherry red Cord in their driveway!”

“Wrong again, Mr. Demon Boy. My yellow Volks gets me where I need to be just fine.” You bite your lip to keep from laughing, seeing the demon obviously getting upset next to you. His ears, as you’ve come to think of them, have laid backwards against his head. His eyes glare at you as you spread the mayo on the bread.

“My name is not ‘demon boy’.” He straightens his bow tie and wipes his coat. “The name’s Alastor, a pleasure to be meeting you!” Now you laugh.

“A bit late for introductions, ain’t it?”

Alastor looks offended. “Would have happened earlier had someone not fainted when meeting me.” You frown.

“I didn’t faint, I just…needed to rest a bit. It’s not like I’m used to having a literal demon appear in my apartment!” You angrily slam the lip back on the jar, returning the bread and condiment to the fridge. Alastor has to side step to keep from being barreled through by you.

You grab your sandwich, looking at him. Before you take a bite, you state your name. He repeats it and the way it rolls of his tongue should not be causing your cheeks to redden, if only a tiny bit. You blame the sunlight you feel coming from the kitchen window.

“I could give you anything in the entire world and yet you want nothing?” Alastor asks again with a defeated sigh. You nod, continuing to eat your sandwich. A thought then crosses your mind and you swallow.

“Actually, I got the perfect idea! How about I just wish for whatever my roommate wants?” Alastor shakes his head. “Why not?”

“The contract states it must be a wish granting your one desire. No one else’s. It’s your soul I’m claiming, after all, not your roommate’s.”

“That’s just dumb,” you remark, finishing your food. You huff and cross your arms. “I’m gonna need time.”

“Time for what?”

“To think of a wish, duh! If it’s gonna be worth my soul, then it’s gotta be big. I’m not wasting it on just any old wish.”

“How much time are we talking about here?” Alastor asks. His tense smile tells you he’s not liking the outcome of this situation. Tough luck. You’re playing by your rules now.

“I don’t know. It’s indefinite until I can think of something.” You shove off the counter you’re leaning against, walking to the living room. Alastor is right behind you.

“That’s not going to work for me, my dear,” he states. You turn around and have to stop to keep from bumping into his chest. You lift your head to stare at him.

“It’s going to have to, deer,” you grin. “You’re stuck with me until I make a wish, like or not.”

“I’m home!”

“Veronica!” You shout and suddenly, Alastor is on his ass behind the couch, your arms outstretched as you look at your roommate in panic. She’s eyeing you and the couch before she slowly shuts the door.

“Ok, as much as I know you want to pretend you didn’t just have someone standing there, I’m gonna need to know who it is you just unceremoniously pushed behind the couch,” Veronica says, shifting her weight to one leg as she places a hand on her hip. She’s full mom mode now, no use lying, but how were you going to explain a literal demon to her? Sure, it was her idea in the first place, but even she knew deep down it wasn’t real!

“Uh, I, well you see.” You’re fumbling with your words, trying desperately as you glance a look towards Alastor. The demon is glaring up at you like you just stepped on his new puppy, huffing a strand of loose hair from his face. You look back to Veronica who’s walking over to you. “Wait!” You move to stop her but it’s too late, she’s leaning over the back of the couch. You wait for the scream, to watch her flee out the door screaming bloody murder, but she doesn’t. She just looks at you like you’re an absolute idiot.

“I’m offended, I really am,” she says. “You attempted to hide this stud? Unbelievable.”

“Huh!?” You nearly break your back trying to climb over and look at Alastor. He’s suddenly human looking, the red hair and horns gone, replaced with short brown hair that’s gelled upward. His skin isn’t ashy pale but caramel, red eyes now brown still glaring up at you.

“Forgive this one, she’s a bit mental,” Veronica apologizes, talking now to Alastor.

“Not a problem, my dear. Not the first time a woman has shoved me down, I assure.” Alastor smiles with a wink, making Veronica giggle and you feel like you’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.

“Alastor, can I talk to you? Privately?” You grab his hand once he stands up, tugging it towards your bedroom. Alastor turns to Veronica as you drag him.

“Pleasure meeting you, dear, if you’ll excuse us!”

“Sure,” Veronica mumbled, watching you drag one of the most attractive men she’s even seen into your bedroom. As the door slams shut, she just shakes her head, whispering, “You go girl.”

Masterlist , Ao3

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[busines-as-unusual]

˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 8 - The Goal I’m Dreaming Of ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

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The ringing in your ears was piercing, threatening to shred your mind. Seconds felt like hours. A chill raked your flesh. You willed your legs to move. Dread rooted your feet to the floor. Were you breathing? Your heartbeat was too strong, too fast. And Alastor…

He saw.

He heard.

He knew.

No no no no no no n

“Why are you here?” Your voice was distant, stripped of its usual bite.

Alastor slinked down the stairs, his footfalls deafening. You were a fly trapped in a web, watching the spider draw closer, ready to devour you with no remorse.

“I hadn’t the faintest idea you had such a violent streak,” he said. “So much rage in one woman. I'm almost mad that you've been hiding it from me.”

“Stop talking. Just— stop!”

He came to a halt at the bottom of the steps, less than ten feet away. Far too close.

“… you need to go.” You cringed at the sound of your voice, hoarse from crying. Shit! Your mascara streaked down your face from tears. Your hair a mess, your body filthy with drying blood and gore; you looked like a rabid animal.

It’s your fucking nightmare.

Alastor cocked his head, neck bent unnaturally. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me! Get out!”

You grabbed the quarterstaff and hurled it at Alastor. He dissipated into shadows before it could hit him and reappeared right in front of you. You cried out and stumbled back, catching yourself before you could fall into the cadaver’s lap.

Turning from Alastor, you rubbed your arms; a futile attempt to self-soothe. “You shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here. Get out of my fucking house!”

You couldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not like this. Not at all. Not ever. Not with Alastor. You’d rather he bisect you alive and remove your beating heart. It'd be less painful.

Alastor swept around to your field of vision and pulled your arms apart. “You’re hurting yourself.” He was right. Angry raised lines formed over your skin, blood threatening to break the surface.

“Let go of me!” You wrenched away from his grasp, nearly toppling again. You ran fingers through your messy hair, stray strands pulling free. “Why are you in my face every goddamn second?!”

He replied with a widening smile. His stupid fucking goddamn smile! Didn’t his face ever cramp? He looked downright giddy, like a child at a carnival. He was a wolf ready to devour a rabbit, playing with it before it died.

Rage bubbled from your chest to your throat in a snarl. “I’m not here to entertain you! This wasn’t a ‘performance’. I’m not putting on a show. None of this—” you waved wildly at the corpse, “was for you! You think just because I—”

You shut your mouth fast enough to make your teeth clack. Alastor’s eyes widened in… excitement? Like he anticipated something he’d been dying for. You felt like his performing monkey.

Your whole body flushed with heat; anger and humiliation writhing inside you. “I’m really glad this is a biiiiig joke to you!”

Smile narrowing, his brow wrinkled with displeasure. “You’re putting words in my mouth. I never implied I found this humorous. I don’t.”

Your jaw worked as you chewed on your rebuttal. For some reason, you believed him. Despite how he enjoyed watching you fall apart, he didn’t find joy in learning why you did so. Despite him being a sociopathic sadist who loved witnessing the dysfunction of others, he had some standards.

(A low standard to be sure, but you were in Hell, after all. The bar was so low it wasn’t even considered a tripping hazard.)

Tears burned in your eyes. You blinked them away. Deep breath. You swallowed hard. “…I am not some helpless, pitiful fucking victim, okay?” You spat the word out in disgust like one might a slur.

“My dear—”

“I’m not broken, or-or damaged, or sad, so don’t—”

“Temerity.”

Alastor’s voice dropped an octave as his tone turned serious. Your hammering heart stopped on a dime, and you were shocked you didn't keel over into a second death right there.

He towered over you, but not in his usual intimidating way. Instead, it felt almost… sheltering? “The last thing I see now is a pitiful victim.” He turned your chin so you looked him dead in his crimson eyes. “Congratulations, my dear, on a job well done.”

You moved to take your chin from his grasp, but he grabbed the side of your face and, with a gentleness you never dreamed he’d possessed, guided you to recapture you in his gaze.

“Let go…” you muttered but made no attempt to move. Instead, you chased the warmth of his palm with your cheek. “Alastor, you—! Goddamn you…”

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, spilling into the space where his skin met yours. You heaved a heavy sigh that rattled your ribcage. Eyes shut, you silently cried. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Alastor as he ‘held’ you like this. Whatever you found in his eyes, be it rapture or ruth, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Still, you drank in the small amount of comfort he afforded you. This would be the closest you’d get to a hug from him.

Alastor brushed a tear away with a swipe of his thumb, smearing blood and makeup across your cheek. “Now then! No more tears. You still have unfinished business to attend to.”

Oh right. Him.

You lingered in the moment for a second. Two. Finally, you opened your eyes to look at the body and then, with effort, back to Alastor. “Help me bury the bastard?”

He fixed you with a sharp toothed grin and bowed his head to you. “Why, it would be my pleasure.”

To no one’s surprise, disposing of a corpse was easier with help. Alastor offered to use his powers to speed up your work, but you insisted on doing it the old-fashioned way. It was part of the healing process, and he was inclined to indulge you.

Soft jazz from his cane filled in the silence between you two as you dug the hole; the musky scent of hellish earth filling your nose. The distant sounds of a gunslinging turf fight turned to white noise. Occasionally, Alastor would chime in with a comment or joke, and you’d laugh or respond before lapsing back into the silence.

By the time you shoveled the final scoop of dirt over him, you were covered by a thin layer of sweat. As predicted, Alastor looked pristine as always. Again, unfair.

You tossed the shovel aside, and Alastor’s disappeared in a poof of green magic. Already, grass and yellow flowers from the other four plots spread and grew along the edges. Soon the whole yard would be uniform, leaving no physical reminders of the bodies underneath. Like they never existed.

Alastor dusted himself off and readjusted his bowtie. “Should we perhaps say a few words?”

The glint in his eyes told you he meant it in jest. You laughed dryly.

“What an honor it was to be a part of this. I can’t think of a better man for this to happen to.”

Alastor laughed. He reached out toward you before you could flinch. His clawed fingers threaded through your hair and he pulled away a pink lump of something; a small bit of brain. He popped it in his mouth like a piece of chocolate.

You swear, this man and his sexy cannibalism…

You looked away and stretched. “I need a drink! Feel free to do what you please, you always do anyway.”

Alastor followed you inside. Thankfully, he couldn’t see your smile.

You led him to your claret-colored parlor, a room you were quite proud of for its sundry uses. Whether you hosted supper club parties or smaller get togethers, it was a wonderful room for conversing, mingling, and even performing. The mini bar and piano near the corner were an excellent addition. Conversely, it was also the perfect room to read in or listen to music while lounging on the plush chaise.

You gestured for Alastor to make himself comfortable. He did so, sitting down in one of your cozy parlor chairs and resting his microphone against the side.

“Usually after a night like this,” you said, making your way to the bar, “I go swimming in alcohol with Mimzy, maybe go on the hunt for a good shag, buuuuut!” You twisted the cork off a bottle of gin with a pop! “Considering a certain unwanted guest, I’ll make a slight change to my plans. What’s your poison?”

You knew the answer before he said, “Rye if you have it. Two fingers.”

You hummed in assent, chuckling under your breath immaturely at his use of words. You fixed his drink along with yours— a gin rickey— and handed it to him before sitting opposite him.

The gin rickey went down easy and you relaxed as you enjoyed the tart drink. Refreshing. Eventually, when the silence was broken, you were the one to do it. “Do I want to know why exactly you're spying on me, Alastor?”

“Well, my dear, you left in such a rush today, anyone would be curious.” He coolly sipped his rye.

“So it’s not just Vox I have to worry about, huh?”

You shrugged, ignoring his bitter look he gave you over his glass. He could be pissy all he wanted, no one asked him to be here.

Even if you’re glad he was.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed the show.” You took a final gulp of healing alcohol. “That was my swan song of vengeance.”

“How disappointing.”

“For you.”

Drink now empty, you stood to grab another. You stopped by your record player, dropping the needle somewhere in the middle of a jazzy instrumental.

You placed the empty glass at the bar when Alastor's hand came down on the counter beside you. You froze. He wasn’t directly behind you, he wasn’t even touching you, but did you ever feel him. His mere presence weighed heavy behind you, pushing you closer to the bar. You were sure Alastor could see you biting your lip in the reflection of the waxed wooden counter.

“Now now, dear.” He slid his empty glass onto the counter with his other hand, momentarily caging you in. “Before you get too inebriated, I do want to inquire about these other revenge tours of yours, as it were. Now, will you tell me the truth or do I have to take advantage of our deal?”

Your brain worked at half speed. First things first, you needed to create space between the two of you.

You propped your elbows on the counter and rested your chin on laced fingers. Alastor subtly shifted back to accommodate your new position. Good.

“I’m never one to be taken advantage of, well unless I let a gentleman do the taking.”

With a disgruntled noise, he backed away. You grinned and twirled behind the bar, taking pleasure in his tight smile and grimaced brow.

You took a big swig of gin from the bottle. It was the strong stuff— Hell knows you needed it— and shuddered at the taste . “Screw it, I’ll tell you the truth. You know the worst of it already.” You busied yourself with washing Alastor’s glass, preferring to be partially distracted.

“Honestly, there’s not much to tell,” you said, eyes fixed on your moving hands. “Tonight was a repeat of the other four bastards I took care of.

“With the first two… I got lucky. They died together in some car accident and I found out through the grapevine.” The grapevine, in this instance, were the informants who worked for you scattered around the city. “Seducing them was… disgustingly easy. They didn’t recognize me, of course.”

Another big gulp of gin. You weren't going to have any left at this rate. Good.

“By the time I was ready for the third, I.M.P was up and running. Getting him down here was easy, but killing him was another matter. Long story short: He escaped. I chased him down. I got him with the angelic steel garrote I use as underwire in my brassieres."

All at once Alastor managed to look both impressed and uncomfortable. The disjointed reaction had you howling with laughter.

“Don’t look so disgusted! A lady needs support… and easy access to multiple melee weapons.”

“And the fourth one?” Alastor rushed out, eager to move on from the discussion of your undergarments. “As I recall, those little imps implied he went to heaven?”

“That was the idea at first. He went and became a man of the cloth. Can you believe that?”

“I do, unfortunately.”

You shook your head and muttered, “Load of bollocks, is what that is.” You grimaced, your old accent slipping through as it did when you drank too much. “Fortunately, in my case, the feathered schmucks upstairs didn’t buy it either.”

You took a final sip from the bottle as the record came to a soft end. Your head buzzed pleasantly; you floated an inch of the ground, lighter than air. Alastor continued to watch you and you did the same. Cheek in palm, elbow on the counter, you drank him in as greedily as you did the gin. “Sastified?”

Alastor chuckled, low under his breath. “For now.”

An exaggerated huff, you made a show of rolling your eyes. You pointed a finger at him. “You’re such a nosey Nelly, you know that? Who gave you the right?”

“I’m a radio host, dear. Staying in the know is a part of my profession.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

You baltered over to the piano and sat at the wide bench. Fingers pattered along the keys. A horrible idea popped into your head and you didn’t fight against it. “Tell me if you recognize this.”

Your fingers drifted along the keys, playing a song for Alastor you'd only have the courage to do when zozzled out of your gourd. The piece was golden candy for the ears, the soundtrack to a pair walking through Central Park on a beautiful day.

You came to the end and faced Alastor, who'd crept to stand behind you while your back was turned.

“I didn’t know you were one to tickle the ivories,” he said, a note of intrigue in his voice.

Pride swelled in your chest. You grinned like a dummy. “Well, I don’t have it here as a paper weight.”

He sat beside you, elbow grazing yours, and walked his slender fingers across the keys. “George Gershwin, ‘I've Got a Crush on You.’ I'm quite familiar.”

“Hopefully not from the musical. I saw it on opening day and found it dreadfully whelming. But that Gershwin? Oh!” You placed a hand on your heart. “I bet you he’s in heaven.”

“You think so?”

“If he’s down here I would’ve nabbed him by now, along with Cole Porter and— Oh!” You clapped. “Here’s a song I know you don’t know!”

Unlike the gentleness of the first song, your fingers flew across the keys with vigor. A sly smirk spread across your face when Alastor leaned back slightly in surprise. ‘Mess Around’ by Ray Charles was decades after both of your times, but you made it your mission to stay up to date with music, even if you preferred the classics of your time.

To your shock, Alastor seemed to be the same way. Without warning, the song suddenly became a duet as he took half the song to play himself. You faltered, but only for half a second. His cocky grin fueled you, spurring you on to play better.

The two of you played together, the moment of synchronicity filling you with elation. It drew to the end when Alastor stole the song, making a show of sliding down the keys with a final touch of a note.

Wild giggles bubbled from the bottom of your lungs. You wiped away a tear. “Alastor! You’ve been holding out on me. If you did that every time you invited yourself over, I wouldn’t mind as much.”

“Doll, I was under the impression you quite liked my company.”

“Oh, I love your company, but you need to learn how to knock. Otherwise, I might take Vox up on that offer for discounted security.”

Immediately, the mood soured. Alastor turned slowly to stare you down, the static effect in his voice stronger when he asked, “And why, pray tell, did he offer you that?”

A dismissive wave of your hand. “Oh, you know. That’s how they all go down. People like Vox use gifts as a tactic to make you more agreeable down the line. I took the phone because he kept insisting.”

Alastor gave you a questioning look. You threw your hands up.

“He wore me down! The man’s persistent. At least you come by it honestly. Well, sometimes. Only an absolute fool would trust you absolutely.”

“Are you implying you don’t trust me?”

A complicated answer you had no hope of answering late at night and drunk. Instead, you riffed on the keys and chuckled under your breath.

He pivoted the conversation back. “What else went on with you and Vox?”

“I had to agree to be his dumb date to some dumb fashion show. Actually, it’s not that dumb. It’s actually pretty lavish, I’ve seen it on TV before and I’ve heard that—”

“Do you not see how foolish this is?” he asked rhetorically, as if he were addressing a child. “Vox is not someone you want to be indebted to.”

“Oh, and you are?”

The lights flickered above you. Alastor brow tweaked in annoyance. “You quite readily accepted my deal for someone who doesn’t trust me.”

“Who’s putting words in whose mouth, now?”

The words were out before you realized. Alastor gave no outward indication that you’d admitted to trusting him. You were no absolute fool, but you were a fool nonetheless. You knew Alastor wouldn’t use information on you to hurt you physically or humiliate you in a public way. Not that he wasn’t cruel, but doing so wouldn’t serve him practically. But he had the power to destroy you <i>emotionally</i>. You knew, he knew, and you handed that power to him on a silver platter. Like a fool.

You might as well have served him your heart for the feasting.

“A-anyway, don't you worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can handle Vox.”

A laugh. “Quite easily, I’m sure.”

Alastor stayed with you longer than you’d expected he would. You talked and laughed and drank, often goading the other to guess the name of the tune you’d play on the piano.

This was leagues ahead of how you normally spent your time after a night like this. You always enjoyed time with Alastor, but you never had such casual fun with him.

At one point he convinced you to sing the lyrics if you could recognize the song. You did, singing along to the melody before you quit, laughing off the embarrassment.

“The poor dear,” Alastor said. “If only she could sing as well as she danced.”

“Oh, stuff it!” But you laughed.

The alcohol was a problem. With enough liquid courage in you, you leaned into the Radio Demon, head against his shoulder. Everything in you told you to pull away, but you were too content. He felt too good.

Alastor noticeably tensed but made no move to remove you or push you away. Slowly, he relaxed, silently accepting your touch. Another victory.

“Alastor?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re an ass.”

He hummed in mild annoyance, returning his attention to the piano. Soft melody, light and comforting. “Enjoy that one, my dear, because I won’t let you get away with that again.”

To say that Alastor was in awe of you would be an understatement.

Of all the sides he’d gotten to see of you— your charm, your wit, your hilarious indignation— this might be his favorite.

More than your anger, it was your zeal. You carried fervor with you in everything you did. It was rather endearing.

However, Alastor was more than pleased to confirm he was right about your rage; your impassioned display of righteous violence was positively decadent. He practically salivated as he watched you work, the entire scene unfolded before him like the petals of a rose; bright red and beautiful. Currents of excitement shot up his spine like electricity, a feeling that was both familiar and unfamiliar to him.

Then to watch you unravel again once he announced his presence? He could hardly contain his excitement. You were vulnerable. Vulnerable, unhinged, and at his mercy. Emotionally helpless. Alastor finally had you right where he wanted you. You could no longer save face. He saw you, raw and unfiltered, your mask shattered beyond repair.

Alastor took no pleasure seeing you relive your trauma— he was a great many things, but he wasn’t that kind of monster! However, seeing you panic like caught prey when you saw him, post revenge? That he cherished.

How you snapped and screamed at him? How you cried? How his mere presence left you in hysterics? Positively entertaining.

How you were adamant that he shouldn’t see you in a lesser light? That he recalled with distaste, but not for you. It was almost laughable, the idea that faceless, degenerate scum could ever sully his vision of you.

And were you ever a vision.

Splattered in blood, flecked with organs and bones, you glowed in the light of heaven. You were radiant, a spirit of retribution avenging yourself sevenfold.

Alcohol made you ever more transparent in your affections. The song you played for him was practically a nonverbal confession. Still you held your tongue, refusing to outright admit to anything. You had slipped up once, and oh! Was he eager to see the look on your face when you did and…

If you confessed your attraction to Alastor, he’d assuredly turned you down. Of course he would. Not out of cruelty, but simply a lack of interest in such affairs. Unfortunately in his experience, rejecting one’s advances was the death of a relationship.

Alastor hoped you had better control of your attraction to him than… others he dealt with. He wasn’t quite ready to end things with you. If he were truthful with himself, he’d say he’d never be inclined to end things with you. You’d grown on him too thoroughly to cut you off and remain unharmed. Good company was rather hard for him to find in Hell. To cast it away would be foolish.

Besides, he had an unfinished deal with you, and he had zero intentions of letting it go to waste.

A/N: If you can name all the references, we’re best friends for life <3

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[madefate]

so, like, why clowning ?

some worldbuilding headcanons about imps & clowning ! cw for mentions of classism ( fantasy, but still ) that also borders on racism ( fantasy but STILL and i'm trying not to touch that as much as i can ).

let's get out of the way that viv just seems to really love a good circus theme - like, yeah, okay, it's everywhere. we can understand that as an aesthetic choice, and then dig into why it's interesting and honestly, why it fits! because it does fit.

o1. wow, it's brutal out here.

hell is not kind to imps. it's explicitly in the text of the show that imps are not well respected or privileged within hell, and widely held that they actively hold the position of the bottom of the social ladder. specifically, we know that economically there's very little room for mobility - see, striker's it's rare to see an imp start their own business. we also see the assumptions and prejudice faced outside of wrath, see the waiting room scene in western energy, and striker's monologue about hard lives in the same episode.

entertainment in general is not a vein that is even particularly conducive for imps, just one where they can succeed. the most famous performers that we see in the hellaverse are angel, a mortal sinner, vox and alastor, mortal overlords, verosika, a hellborn succubus, and ozzie and mammon themselves, deadly sins. even the performers at mammon's contest aren't exclusively imps - most of them are just another form of hellborn, and the glam sisters in particular seem to come from envy and have money behind them.

fizz is unequivocally the most famous imp performer, and most famous imp in general, that we see. even in the flashbacks, the buckzo circus was billed as the all imp circus - indicating that it's not a common practice.

given how hard it is to find a foothold in economic and social mobility, it makes sense that the one venue we do see it in, performing, is extremely important.

o2. i've ( don't ) got the magic

thus far, imps and hellhounds are the only beings in hell that we've seen without any access to magic. even sinners are granted some inherent power and we see that increase dramatically if they gain power as an overlord. it is, simply put, hard to stand out in a world where some people can snap their fingers and conjure up the most incredible displays, or even just neatly get the job done.

a lot of the social / economic mobility we see for imps comes from their willingness to put in the work. I.M.P. has access to the living world, which is not unheard of but rare, but they are also willing to hunt down a target and get blood on their hands on behalf of those who can't get to the living world (and we know the other ways to access that living world are rare and expensive). striker also does assassination work - but largely for those who are simply not a position to get the job done themselves.

we explicitly see how hard fizz works to have the station and reputation he does - how much pressure he puts on himself to be perfect. in the flashbacks, we see that blitz & fizz (and barbie presumably) are already performing real shows at the age of five or six, and cash is already putting an enormous amount of pressure on fizz as one of his highest earners and biggest draws. it would be a lot easier to attract attention or create these entertaining displays if you have access to magic - or at least MONEY for a better tent, better costumes, better special effects.

so to succeed as a clown as an imp? you have to be very, very good. the pressure is always on, which leads me to -

o3. you're simply the best

when you're working with a deck that's not nearly as stacked as everyone else's, you have to be on top of your fucking game, no questions. the reason fizzarolli wins that contest every year, the reason why he's the face of mammon's brand, is because he's so utterly charismatic - a real showman. magic and pyrotechnics may get you some fancy spectacle, but there's no replacement for being an absolute fucking delight with a killer joke and banger music and a natural rapport with the crowd.

it's why, even if blitz wasn't as skilled as fizz - or at least TOLD he wasn't - his acrobatic skills are above and beyond. those circus instincts come in handy on a daily basis - he has to be quick thinking, fast on his feet, able to improv and roll with the punches, able to distract someone with patter and banter, and yeah - he needs some Sick Flips.

he holds a little shame that he never really pursued a clowning career, mostly because it was such a fundamental part of his life for the entirety of his formative years. he didn't LOVE it - in fact, he was deeply disillusioned by first his father and then mammon - and it only got worse as he got older, but we see on screen how much the idea of performing can send him into a spiral - and how much it means to him if he succeeds.

when you can hold your own against people you're told are better than you, it means a hell of a lot - it's a source of pride, a way to make a life, and an unwitting tradition among some circles of imps.

[whyy77772]

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#RadioStaicWeek

Day 3!!!

Today’s prompt was dancing!! The last two prompts I made it ambiguous to if Al liked Vox the same way but this one is definitely mutual, sorry :P . Anyway, I kinda messed up with proportions in the drawing but it’s whatev. I’m very late bc writing dancing is hard and I didn’t have inspiration till 11pm this time. Anyways, here’s the fic, but also I pasted it

Chapter 3

Dancing

Vox made his way through a small door into a jazz club on the south side of hell. He could hear the sound of live music and various sinners laughing and talking from the sidewalk. The room was crowded, some sinners at the bar, some dancing and watching, and some playing the music, various instruments touched their lips and were played. Vox was invited out by a coworker, who went by the name Jose. It was the mid 1970’s at that point, the jazz scene was dying, but there were still various popular spots all around hell. Vox waited around by the front door waiting for Jose, but eventually growing impatient, he walked over to the bar and ordered a neat straight gin, bored and ready to leave any minute.

“Hey, are you Jose’s friend?” The bartender asked. Vox cringed at the word friend, but responded with a quick yes. He was then informed that this coworker had ‘emergency business’ to attend to. Great. Now Vox was stranded in a random club on a side of hell he had no business being in and an empty gap in his schedule. The free time was fine, he thought, but he was ready to actually build trust with someone tonight for whatever plans he had for José. Whatever, people watching and drinking was a fine night, he thought to himself. Plus, maybe he’d be able to find an opportunity for a deal. Vox sipped his drink, looking around the bar. Suddenly, a familiar face walked in. Red coat, red hair, at a jazz club? Yeah, that’s definitely Alastor. He walked in, waving several sinners who recognized him. ‘Guess he’s a regular here’ Vox thought, watching as he took another sip from his glass. Vox stared at him, eventually Alastor noticed him. Vox waved, and Alastor walked over to the television

“Why, hello there Vox, what a surprise seeing you here, my good friend! What happened to make you end up here?” Alastor stood in front of him, looking down at Vox, who had put down the glass to talk.

Vox leaned on the bar, arms out resting “Got ditched by a co worker, figured I might stay a while.”

“Ah, yes. The club is rather nice, isn’t it? I frequent this joint often, best in town, you know. Mind if I join you?” Alastor asked, looking at the seat next to Vox.

“Sure” Vox scooched over a bit, gesturing towards the empty stool beside him. Alastor ordered bourbon. The bartender slid the drink to him as he talked to Vox

Three drinks in and a lot of boring small talk later, Alastor asked a question. “Have you ever been to a Jazz club? I take it you haven’t, but there’s no harm in asking!”

Vox taped his claw on the callous on his thumb, an idle habit he picked up. “No, that wasn’t really my scene when I was alive.”

“I take it you can’t dance then? Alastor gave a little chuckle, the alcohol loosening himself up a bit

“Oh sure I can, I was an excellent dancer, I just never used my skills outside of lessons and with partners listening to records.” Vox rolled his eyes. Him? A bad dancer? It was funny thinking about

“Hm, for some reason I don’t trust you. Why don’t you show me what you got?” Alastor smiled (more so than his default one), finishing the last of his drink before standing up and holding a hand out to Vox.

Vox could feel his face burning, unsure if it was from the alcohol in his blood (?), or the fact he was about to dance with Alastor, but that was not his problem. He put on a confident smirk, downing his drink, standing up, and grabbing a hold of Alastors hand. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised, deer man”

Alastor led Vox onto the dance floor, the previous song ending, a small break happened before the band started playing again, a slow start. The crowd formed a circle. A pair of sinners making their way out into the middle, then a single, then two beside each other. Eventually, they got out into the circle. Alastor led, moving to the beat, leading Vox. Normally Vox would hate following, but for some reason, whether that be the alcohol or himself, he enjoyed following for once. Alastor upped the complexity of the moves after testing the waters, seeing how advanced Vox was. Vox was able to match his pace, even with the gin messing with his groove a bit. A minute passed, and they finally walked off out to watch others. The energy in the club was certainly an experience. Vox smiled hard, cheering on the other sinners in the circle. He was breathing hard, the quick dance, the alcohol, and the cheering giving him a big adrenaline boost. After an hour of taking turns on the dance floor, their dance ended with Vox in a dip, and the song ending. Vox’s smile was wide, chest heaving, staring into Alastors eyes. Had his eyes always been this beautiful? Voxes face was warm, and telling by the tint in Alastors cheeks, he was too. Probably not for the same reason though. Vox relished in the few seconds he was in Alastors arms as the crowd cheered, before he got pulled back up, and was lead out of the crowd by Alastor.

Alastor breathed heavily, the energy of the night certainly catching up to him. He looked at Vox before asking “Why, wasn’t that fun! Are you all done? You seem to be exhausted.” He smiled, taking note on how it weirdly didn’t feel forced.

“Pfft, I could go all night. But yeah, I think it’s time to stop dancing for now.” Vox smiled smugly, walking back over to the bar, finding two empty seats. He leaned back on the bar, asking the bartender for two gins.

“Hey, hope you’re ok with gin. I’m keen on keeping them both to myself though” Vox smiled as Alastor sat down, still sitting with perfect posture.

Vox pulled at his turtle neck. He had lost his jacket forever ago, but he was still burned hot with sweat.

“Ah, a gin if fine, my dear.” Alastor studied Voxes face, noticing the dark blue that danced over his already dark blue face at the name.

The bartender slid the drinks over. Vox gave one to Alastor. And took a sip of the other before placing it down. “I don’t know how you’re still in that coat, I’m dying here.” Vox said, out of breath, slipping off his turtle neck to reveal a plane white long sleeve shirt. Alastor watched as he rolled up his sleeves, waved some air at himself, and took another sip of his drink. Alastor didn’t know how long he stared for, all he knew was that Vox was looking really confused now.

“What are you looking at?” Vox raised a 2d eyebrow.

“You know, you weren’t half as bad as I thought you were gonna be.” Alastor smiled. “Still not as good as me though.”

“Hell yeah I was! You weren’t so bad yourself. That was fun, despite you treating me like a dame, having to follow. But, hey, a change of pace is always fun.” Vox tapped at his glass with his pointer claw.

Alastor blushed slightly, realizing he really did put Vox in the position most woman took. “Well, you were good at it.” Alastor chuckled, mocking Vox. Although, it wasn’t really mocking. He did actually believe Vox did a good job. Teased? He didn’t know.

Vox smiled, staring at Alastor. After this night, he saw him in a new light. Or, maybe in a way he always did, but a way he never admitted until now. Vox washed away his thoughts with a swig of his drink, finishing it. They enjoyed a peaceful silence, the chatter and sound of the music seeming to disappear in the embrace of Alastors attention. Before he knew it, Vox’s face had flushed completely, a stupid grin on his face. He ordered another drink. This night was perfect. Thank god Jose didn’t show up.

Yay :]

[gctchell]

@damnedrainbows asked:

It gets worse each time, doesn’t it? Every session he’s endured, she just seems to get more vicious. She just seems to find new ways to wring him dry—of information, and of his will. Hopelessness has stretched on, a bleakness that he will never escape. Alastor supposes he can make peace with endless torment, if it means he’ll at least always be deposited back to the arms of those that will patch him up.

Roo will get bored eventually though, and he knows that. With Lilith back, and with the secret revealed, she’s run out of use for him, and now the only reason he draws breath is because she’s still decided he’s entertaining. He knows first hand how dangerous boredom is for a trapped soul.

Lucifer and Lilith are doing what they can…but Alastor needs to put some preventive measures in place. Have the difficult conversations that he doesn’t want to have. …And to have them now while their daughter is busy.

The radio demon stands next to his beloved, fingers absently grazing his fur. His smile is so subdued. It’s exhausted, bags under his eyes for the first time in years. Bandages cover recent wounds, but some are still on his face. His fingers entwine into the feline’s, and his voice loses its filter.

“…Promise me…when she comes to claim me, that you will take care of Momo.”

This situation is not ideal. It's driven Husk into deeper drink, knowing he can't do any blessed thing about what's going on. He's helpless, he's pointless, and he has nothin' to offer that kind of woman. What does someone like him have to give? He's not Alastor, he's not an Overlord with power and prestige, he's not anything. He's a gambler, he's a drunk, and he's a bartender, and with the territory that belongs to those fateful addictions, he's losing what he loves dearly.

He can't stand it. He can't stand Al disappearing and coming back beat to Hell. Al, one of the top ranking human powers in Hell. The Radio Demon, bleeding and busted up like some unfortunate rag doll.

Husk's fur bristles and his tail flicks, his head quickly jerking in Alastor's direction with a look that most could see as hateful, but it's not hateful - it's anger, and it's fear.

" 'When'? What are you talking about, 'when'? " The grip he has on Alastor's hand tightens so hard, it hurts. His stomach churns when he has to look at the bandaged face of his partner, it takes everything in him to not look away because it'd be taken wrong. Alastor might think he can't stand the sight of him anymore when he's like that, but it could not be further from the truth. It messes Husk up something severe that he looks like that, and he's powerless to stop it.

"You forgettin' we got the Devil and the First Witch on our side now?"

[shootingmorningstar]

Hello! I was wondering if I could maybe perhaps have a match-up? 👉👈 Appearance: Female, (She/Her/They,) very long curly hair! very soft, very bouncy, very thick, like a sheep!, skinny as a stick and physically weak, have a baby face and I hate it so much..don't know if any of this matters or helps but!

Personality: (idk if you like zodiac or if it helps you at all either, but i’m a Gemini Sun, Aquarius Moon, Virgo Rising!)

I’m generally a very quiet and reserved person, especially during first impressions! I’m kind of a shy and anxious lurking shadow who assumes the worst until I get a good enough feel of a person, you know? Then I'm comfortable popping in!

I tend to gravitate towards being "Designated Mom Friend" or "Big Sister Friend?" I love being able to make others feel better about themselves or to help them out. Maybe it’s because of some rough stuff in my past, but I never want anyone to feel similar to the ways I have. If you hurt someone I care about, I am never going like you. But if you hurt me? Eh..it’s not really new? I’m kind of..soft? I cry very easily, be it happy or sad, and it frustrates me! I’m not a soft and squishy person !..okay yes I am but I’m also trying super hard to be the shoulder people can lean on if they need me! Growing a backbone is a work in progress, and sometimes I worry I come off too harsh or mean when I actually use it. A friend once described me like glass; it’s fragile, but a broken piece can still really mess you up, you know? Glass-ness aside, my sense of humor is honestly very dry and sarcastic and you probably wouldn’t expect it out of me! I can get kind of angry over petty things and sort of clingy, but I’ll be fine after some time to let it all pass.

I like playing crocheting and sewing, drawing and writing, and reading tarot cards! I like doing things alone, really, but I love the company of others when they want me to join in. Because it does indeed get lonely being alone sometimes!

I have some really gross depression bouts and lots of anxiety disorders that I do my best to juggle, but, sometimes I just have to shut down for a bit and sleep.

Values: Someone who can make me smile when I’m really having a hard time! I guess that sounds a little silly, but even something small to distract me from my thoughts is huge. Loyalty also? Admittedly I get kind of jealous and clingy when people I like hang around others too much..especially if I don’t like those others. I also really like um..acts of service I guess it is? Little things matter to me most!

NOPES: People who takes themselves too seriously. Disinterest/poking fun at in my hobbies or insecurities. Being completely babied/not letting me try to grow. Making assumptions based on appearance or first impressions alone.

OH- I'm Demi with a male preference? Is this enough to work with? Hopefully so, thanks again!

-🐑

Of course you can, anon .ᐟ Don't worry, this is more than enough. I love the details, it really helps me be able to envision a matchup .ᐟ

Anon, I'm matching you with . . .

Sir Pentious .ᐟ

From what I understand about you, it seems like you really need somebody loyal and willing to make you happy, to cheer you up through the times where you're not feeling your greatest, and who's more loyal than Sir Pentious .ᐣ He's the first sinner soul to ever make it to Heaven, and for good reason .ᐟ He is devoted to his cause and the people around him, and your mom friend like behavior would endear you to him.

Not to mention he already seems to be fond of the sarcastic type .ᐟ I think he would absolutely adore your sense of humor. Snakes are typically solitary creatures, so your more reserved nature would really strike a chord with him. You mentioned your long hair .ᐣ He would love to comb it out for you. He has to be really gentle with his scales so I think he could sort of relate in that scenario. Sew or crochet him his Egg Bois some sweaters and he will be absolutely over the moon. Maybe you could help him fix Alastor's coat to make amends .ᐣ Either way, I think he would be a great match for you .ᐟ

[blankdblank]

Protego Pt 6 - Riddle Family Massacre

Masterlist here

...

Thursday did come around. Where she was expecting the Knight Bus, wide eyed she stood underneath the bus stop watching the covered carriage pulled by four invisible Thestrals. “What is that?!” she cried out to Sirius who sat on the front seat of the carriage, smiling madly now that he was with his adored one he hoped to marry one day to see this mystery through to the end with some luck on this trip alone.

“Magical carriage, don’t worry Muggles will think it’s an old busted down Plymouth and they can’t see Thestrals, which only Wizards can see them if they’ve seen death, and they’re the best navigators around. Tried to get Narcissa’s beau Lucius to lend us his family enchanted car, but he wanted in on the action and we were not about to let him tag along. Up front or in the back?”

Under her feet the gradually rising snow crunched to her every nervous step closer. Internally at a loss for if she was seeing a mirage of some sort. The impossibility of the unknown answer of her ancestors and this mode of transportation heightened the urge to shiver beyond reason of just the dropping temperatures that enabled the snowfall. Sharp and quick the draw of a curtain blocking the windows on that side of the carriage facing her had her flinch and freeze. Regulus’ hand off the drawstring to let her see him released to give her a wave matching his widening grin at seeing she’d showed up wearing the same scarf Sirius had pondered she might wear for hours the night prior.

“I’d suggest up front!” Alastor called out from the window in the back he’d opened to do just that, “Everyone should have that experience just once. If you don’t like it you can ride back here on the way home.”

“Hear there’s some incredible sights along the way off our wireless,” Regulus added as a sort of reminder to his older brother on things they looked up he could point out to help keep conversation from dipping into a lull.

Heavily she huffed and walked closer to the carriage. Sinking each step much more as the mounds around the path of the wheels had been pushed up in their arrival. Invisible pressed hooves on her right that made crunches of their own had the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Nothing was there, and yet round hoof like impressions marked the places of four Thestrals who were pulling the carriage. Her body aimed at the front bench and said, “So help me if I fall off, I will kill all of you.”

Hand out to take her raised one Sirius helped her up, ensuring she was safely seated and smiled at her with a renewed grip of the reigns. “Be hard to kill me I’m already in heaven.” Accented with a wink. Up to his chin her hand rose to press in a swipe motion that forced his head forward, “Off we go lads,” clicking his tongue and a flick of the reigns he named the town they were headed for. Soft at first the carriage began to roll forward in the start of a trotting pace of the flighted invisible creatures that by thirty feet had the carriage back up in the air again.

The sudden jolt urged her body to scoot into his side. A reflex answered by his, a raise of his arm to let her dip and latch around his middle. Chuckles muffled inside the carriage from the pair who had seen that move they guessed might happen. Widely Sirius grinned to himself, even at the awkward fold of his jacket to jam an internal row of buttons securing a spare magical warming layer into his ribs underneath her arms. “You are sure we won’t be seen?!” she checked.

Around her back his arm lowered to rest there and help her feel more secure in time. “Cross my heart, whole thing is enchanted, even our seat, no one can see us except for Wizards in flying vehicles or on brooms.”

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” she squeaked and he simply held her a bit firmer until she began to calm down at least at the wind, but not the height that after a few stolen peeks out over his other arm she ducked back to burrow her head into his chest. Ignoring the flap of the collar of her double breasted coat in a timed thwack against her face due to the shifting wind currents around them.

Begrudging ally or not, by the time the first trip to the theater had been over she had begun to know that there was at least some room for trust brewing between them. She might not be overly sure as to what his intentions might be exactly, but until he showed otherwise she felt she could give him a chance to be trusted by her with some things at least. If in anything to be a distant relative to warm up to in time and mingle with on random holidays should things with Lily keep growing sour. The room once echoing of giggles long past bedtime now sat uncomfortably silent on both sides of an invisible line drawn between beds they sat upon not looking the others way.

Glints of edges of buildings grew more visible to the drop of the carriage. A town with rows of shops and homes in wavy patterns ended with flat ends between blocks became more obvious the closer they got. A city far from the euphoric place she had heard of from her parents under this blanket of snow shielding all that was meant to be so magical about this place that gifted her to them. Just streets and buildings between the scattered bodies of children exploring their town and creating frozen kingdoms of their own with dreams of magic now lost to her were to be seen blocking off any joyful sensation in being here. Only fear, heart thundering louder than hooves and wheels that met the cobbled road almost made her miss notice of the landing.

Right outside the city they did park the carriage. Regulus was first to pop out of the back with hold of a container that let out the unmistakable scent of blood into the air when opened. Four trays, now the lid was off, slid apart to help the four claim their own snack Alastor helped him to hold. Off the carriage the duo on the front bench climbed into the trench the carriage and other two made, to wiggle and stretch a few of their most stiffened joints. “What is that?” Jewels asked aloud before she���d realized it.

“Raw meat. Best cuts we have in the supply for the family herd.” Sirius answered and she looked up at him lost to what the boys might be feeding.

The invisible bodies clearly snacked on in gratitude, noisily naming their locations for the young girl who moved closer with a trembling hand raised to land awkwardly on the neck of one of the invisible bodies. Each muscle under her hand shifted around the meal in the rise of the head to swallow it whole. “How, how do you take care of them if you can’t see them?”

Regulus answered, “Our Gran had a bad bout of sickness few years back, passed on during our evening talk she wanted with us, we can see them just fine.”

Alastor added when she looked his way, “Had a stage hand take an untimely step too many on a hanging support to a heavy prop. Good thing was the fumes of the cloud of dust it let off killed him before he hit the stage, after he’d hit a few more props on the way.”

“Oh,” she replied and Sirius shook his head, helping to guide her hand to its head.

“Think black eagle head on a winged horse’s body.” Sirius explained to help distract her off that morbid topic.

“Oh,” she said, then asked, “Like a Hippogriff?”

“Um,” Sirius answered, “Maybe if you plucked the Hippogriff, these don’t have feathers. More leathery.”

Contently it let out a puff of an exhale laced grunt of approval to the contact of the curious girl. “You have a herd of these?” she asked and the brothers nodded to the fall of her eyes onto the pair.

Regulus answered, ticking his head to the side, “Yes, well, Gramps does. All our family properties are linked to the family mansion that’s hidden away on unplottable land. We all have stables and the herd can be brought from that land to let out the carriages on an empty street nearby if we’re close to Muggle lands. Which our house is smack in the middle of London, comes in handy.”

After giving the Thestral another pat she said, “We should go now, I can pet them again later. Maybe even feed them.”

Regulus smiled as his brother still had hold of the now lowered hand, stating for him, “We brought tons of snacks for them. They’ll surely love you after that.”

Walking away from the carriage they were glad to have all worn warm pants, socks and boots to counter the accumulated snow now being joined by more to settle atop their jackets and chosen knitted hats, the latter matching their sweaters and scarves. Much deeper than the prior stop, and much harder to not whip out their wands to carve walkways as they did at school to spare that small struggle. The quiet little town wasn’t used to guests this time of year, but at the gossip shared of an adoption record inquiry with the post office the other day the curious visitors, if bothered at all, would be taken as the ones who had called.

Alastor had memorized the maps of this town and named the way to the others. Each silent to let each sound rippling from between the rows of buildings and grouped blocks of houses almost bowl them over as the wind hoped to do. She wanted answers. To know what mother she belonged to. But in that came the terror of the notion that like her birth father that woman could be anyone.

Morfin Gaunt was no saint, having served time in Azkaban back in the late 20’s and early 30’s in prison for assault on a Witch, his own sister no less. Same as their father who died shortly after his release from the same prison. Known widely to be poor, somehow there was a woman to have been lured to marry into the Gaunt family. A man of short temper surely was the source of hers, now she had to know what she gained from her mother. All by means of a single undocumented name on her birth certificate.

The noise of each street they passed by had their eyes swiveling to take in what surrounded them as if an attack could come and evasive maneuvers would be called for. A void of noise had their hair prickle in a rise up when they stepped in front of a row of offices. Frail and quiet Jewels was able to ask, “Why did it go quiet like that?”

Alastor replied, “Land keeps a memory, like certain spaces feel sinister, not haunted. We’d see sign of a ghost or two. More like they tore something bad down.”

Regulus asked with a hint of uncertainty in his voice for how Jewels would react to hearing it, “I thought only the orphanage had been torn down, right?”

“Mummy did say they wouldn’t have left me there,” she murmured back.

A step closer to her side Sirius pushed through the snow to say in a comforting tone, “No shortage of novels with sad goings on at orphanages. Now we have to find a much more likely haunted Nunnery.”

Up at him she looked with pointed gaze for the unnoticed borderline joke Alastor cut in to say plainly, “Now Padfoot, ghosts are not the goal for a top notch Nunnery. Just need the penguins and some bells for that.” That was enough to get her to look his way and he pointed forward, “Two streets and we take the next curve to the end atop the hill. Not far now.” She nodded and they pushed onwards past the quiet pocket, back into more echoes of the more playful city residents out and about and those just being nosy about the visitors passing by.

Right to the center of the main road in town easy to be gotten to by everyone the Nunnery was located. Fixed to the back of the church and the side of the Midwife and Doctors clinic, that unlike the demolished orphanage was sure to be in use for decades to come by the townspeople. Almost painfully the town grew under the shadow of the ledge hanging over the front stoop. Silence hung over the teens who had shaken themselves free of snow in reading the notice the bell was broken and to use the knocker. Silence broken by Jewels, who saw her hand rise on its own to clack the heavy ring against the wooden barrier between her and the information promised to her.

“Maybe they’re deaf?” Sirius muttered on the cusp of the third minute to pass by in their wait. But the chatter of the boys broke when the door opened and one of the eldest Nuns opened the heavy door lowering her eyes to land on the shorter group that all flinched up anxious waves. “Hello, how might we help you?” she spoke aloud in a curious tone.

Jewelia answered, “I was adopted out of Wool’s Orphanage, I hoped I could see my adoption file.”

“Oh yes,” she said elatedly and stepped aside, “Come in, yes, we did get a call about an adoption file.” Behind them she sealed the door shut again and gestured her hand to the side to lead them along when she turned around. Back to one of the back rooms she led them all, asking along the way, “Would you happen to know your birth parents’ names, or merely your adoption date?”

“The father is listed as Morfin Gaunt.” The girl answered in what she hoped to have been a steady tone.

“Gaunt,” she said. Into a cabinet of drawers now ajar for the letter G her fingers flit across the file folder tabs inside. Closing the two beneath the first with her foot and knee once she had located the proper collection of files, lifting one out of the bunch to check, “Merope Gaunt?” blindly to her side she passed to Jewels that the girl opened in the drop of her eyes, “And a, Morfin Gaunt, odd.”

“Both siblings left children here?” Regulus asked his brother in Latin, who shrugged.

“No record of a kid for Merope in our ledger,” Sirius muttered back in the same tongue.

The Nun looked up as she shut the drawer to the girl who’d already been reading the notes on the first page of the file. “This says she had a son,” Jewels read.

Regulus said, “Morfin’s sister was Merope, you have a cousin.”

The Nun smiled and offered Jewels her file, “Daughter, adopted by the Evans, correct?” Jewels nodded and she said, “I will leave you the room a few minutes and fetch you all some tea.” Out of the room she walked and the teens looked around moving to the spare open square of chairs along a corner of the office muffling noise of the other Nuns at work throughout the clinic on the other side of the far wall.

“What’s it say about him?” Regulus asked when they’d all settled around her, with her right in the corner seat to give them all fair view of her reactions or the file if need be.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr.” Jewels’ brows furrowed, and she said, “This says he went to Hogwarts.” That had the guys huddled around her to look a bit closer, “Apparently he was a thief and an arsonist.”

“Riddle,” Sirius said to himself, “Where have I read that name?”

“Something about a bunny, and moving his room to a new secluded room.” She turned the pages filled with disciplinary notes and ample with other things hastily compiled surely over the years between medical check up receipts. “He left at 16 and never came back, there’s an article in here about, Riddle family, massacre.” Her voice broke off and Alastor took hold of the Daily Prophet cutout the Muggles must have taken as scraps left around his room that were included in his file.

He continued, “Says the only believed suspect was Morfin Gaunt, who after nearly two decades wanted revenge for the death of his sister in childbirth of the son she had from the Muggle husband who abandoned her. Something about an earlier sentence and charges he was let loose after their father Marvolo died. Killed the whole Riddle family. But there was no proof, couldn’t even get a memory out of him on it.”

“So, my birth father killed his in laws, and still left the boy here?” She asked more herself in shock for what her father did than the others.

Alastor said, “Least now we know the name to dig into the Prophet archives for. We can write them today when we get back. Something seems fishy about this massacre too. All we know this Riddle Jr was a sick puppy when he graduated, went home to find his father and got curse happy.” Story of how the orphanage was shut down also came in a bit of a mystery as the Matron in charge had been found dead in another terrible accident not long ago enabling the office building developers who wanted the land on that block an easy time in buying it up.

The camera Regulus had brought was used to make copies of the whole file as she watched, not willing to open her own file just quite yet. Changing the film three times, the final time he sealed the camera back again and slid the used roll into his pocket designated for them. “What’s your file say?” Alastor gently urged her to finally break the front cover that revealed how she had been orphaned.

Sirius helped her to situate the top page right side up that had a read out of the Muggle police report of a rather inexplicable death for the couple that left a little girl an orphan. “This doesn’t make sense, how is this an accident?”

Sirius shook his head, “This wouldn’t be an accident. Someone killed them.”

“I remember the day you were brought to the clinic,” the Nun spoke upon her return pushing a tea cart loaded with mugs of warm drinks and some hard biscuits to nibble on while it cooled. Her smile spread in the fall of her eyes on the girl again. “Eyes like no other, heard tell some imagined your eyes to change colors, hair too.” A chuckle left her in the offer of the mugs to each of the teens who welcomed the warm treats with soft thanks. “Brought right round here to ensure you were healthy. The Doc wouldn’t say what had befallen your parents, only you were heard crying behind a closed door your mother had collapsed in front of.”

Gradually away from her lips to blow on the tea in her mug Jewels lowered the mug, unable to take a sip yet off what she had heard. “Do, you remember her name?”

The Nun shook her head, “Can’t say we were able to uncover one. City records show no marriage and our public notice came up nil in leads for any relatives or missing persons.” Wrinkles on her face formed in the force of a smile onto her face, “Only, I recall something of some siblings in the family who adopted you?”

Jewels nodded, “I have two sisters.”

“See, all is well that ends well.” To the tick of her brows up so the woman could sip on her own tea Jewels dared to take a sip of the drink far beyond able to comfort her now.

“What do you remember about her cousin?” Alastor asked and a sour look flinched across the Nun’s face when the mug lowered from her mouth.

“Foul little creature. We heard terrible stories from some of the girls who came to join our order before he just vanished into the wind at 17. Should be my age now,” then she nodded and reached out a hand to pat Jewels’ knee. “Best not search for him. Cannot trust so much as a bunny rabbit with that one. That one is no kin to a kind child like you.” Off Jewels’ face to the file she looked asking, “Why have you come in search of the orphanage?”

When their eyes met again Jewels replied, “Mother’s name is blank on my birth certificate.”

“Oh yes, truly, I do wish we might have been of more help to you on that front.” A phone call had the woman set her mug down and rise to go and fetch it in the lift of a finger stating she would return again.

“Pictures,” Regulus said, hurrying to reach over and collect her file to snap pictures of each document and return it while the woman seemed to be locked in a conversation that drug on longer than she hoped.

.

“Little Hangleton,” she muttered to herself when they were again alone on that same stoop now facing the other way. “How far would you imagine that is?”

Sirius smiled widely and said, “Not without grasp of our steeds. Thestrals can find anyplace. Natural navigators.” Back to the carriage and waiting steeds he led her, not allowing her body to lock up in the whirl of her mind over what she had learned about her birth family. Chance to offer some raw meat snacks of her own had Jewels a bit relieved by the distraction between this discovery and the continued search now extended to the house she was taken from.

Little Hangleton wasn’t far off from the previous town, and out of the dozens of houses here the one the Gaunts lived at wasn’t hard to pick out for Jewels. Who at the sight of the house out of her years of nightmares fainted when she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“Jewels?” the guys all asked as she came to, each huddled around her inside the divot of snow they made to help keep her out of the cold wind that only helped to stop her from scooting away from the house that had her eyes fill with tears.

“That’s the house, I keep seeing that house, there’s a woman trapped in there.” She whimpered out in her panic bubbling out of her trembling self.

“Okay,” Regulus said. He nodded his head trying to calm her down, “Let’s scope it out.”

Sirius and Alastor helped her up, the latter asking, “What’s the woman look like?”

“Me,” she answered shakily and he wet his lips, stealing another glance at the house then looked back to her. He now saw the tears that broke loose down her cheeks out of fear that had the roots of her hair and brows turning black in a gradual loss of her ability to keep her disguise.

“Jewels, it might be a trapped memory. Of when you lived there, they didn’t have an exact birthday for you in the file.” Alastor said in as supportive a tone he could muster to the fall of her tears Sirius helped to wipe away.

“But we’ll check it out.” Sirius said.

.

Answers did come, none calming as they stood wordless at a headstone that left her mother without a name outside a long since emptied house they couldn’t find a way to break in without getting expelled for it.

Alastor as promised did dig into the Daily Prophet records for any bit of news he could find on the Gaunts and any semblance of a wedding or birth announcement linked to them. The paper would name that Marvolo died alone inside the house before his son could be released from an assault charge against Ministry members who talked to them about their danger to the Muggle Riddle clan, of which Merope bore a fondness for one of them.

Bloody revenge was the claimed reason for Morfin’s second sentence in Azkaban. Against the same family his sister had abandoned him and their father to marry into and bear a child for. Yet decades later he and an unknown Witch got caught in some unfortunate accident as the Muggles claimed the Gaunt line had been cut off entirely by their research. No courtship, no marriage and most certainly no baby was noted. Thus stalling the family standings without an heir noted to retrieve custody of what little the Wizarding World saw them flaunt and all they imagined to be hidden away.

Day after day on lunches the guys would share what they had dug up in their turns at the hoard of Prophet news clipping copies Alastor had divided to not handle alone by their girth. Nothing to reassure her any of the three Gaunts had endearing qualities to lure a presumed young spouse to wed them. Daily her hair when she got home grew darker and she found a place to sit with legs curled up to her chest unable to know who to talk to in all this.

“That theater troupe was supposed to be a happy thing.” Petunia said, having finally broken to chatting with her baby sister who was seated inside the spare coat closet in the back of the house.

“It is,” Jewels replied softly.

Down into the closet Petunia moved to settle herself down at Jewels’ side, “This is where you reign in ecstatic glee then?”

“I’m related to one of the founders at school,” she said softly, but not soft enough that Lily walking by couldn’t hear, urging her to stop and listen in to what she’d been missing. “I found my adoption papers and the boys who go to theater with me have been helping me to hunt out my birth parents.”

“Have,” Petunia squeaked out in a loss for what to say, “Have you found anything?”

“I found the house, in my dream, where the woman is trapped. My birth father is dead and we haven’t been able to track down his wife’s name yet. Apparently Witches don’t keep records like we do, it’s all in bloodlines.”

“That must be maddening.” Petunia said and leaned closer to Jewels’ side as she sniffled and tucked forward into her legs.

“I just want to know where I came from,” she squeaked out, “In case one day you don’t want me anymore.”

“Mummy and Daddy chose you, if anything we would kick Lily out long before you,” she said deliberately to make Jewels chuckle but only made her feel a bit worse. “You get so sad little bunny,” Petunia sighed cuddling her sister closer. “No one is ever going to ever be able to stop you being an Evans. You are stuck with us I am afraid, as we are stuck with Great Aunt Gertrude.” That had Jewels giggle and sniffle to Petunia’s hint of a grin in their shared dislike of the woman who fawned over Lily and never cared to show them any mind. “For now, we must get your face washed and your hair in those bows,”

“I hate those bows, they pinch my head.” Jewels whined in reply.

“I know,” Petunia replied wearing a pair of their own. “But if we are ever to compete for some praise at the table we must endure the pinches until one day we dole out our own.” Muffled grumbles followed on the way down the hall to the bath where the elder sister helped the youngest to freshen up and fix her hair that was steadily creeping back to maroon again.

Lily however faked a trip to the bedroom as if she’d forgotten something only to come back out and find her sister to ask, “Where did you get that broomstick?!”

Jewels turned from the mirror and replied, “A gift from Sirius and Regulus.”

Lily scoffed, “Since when do you have anything to do with Sirius Black?! And just who is Regulus?! You are supposed to be taking acting lessons not flirting with random boys!” she stormed out of the room.

And where Petunia might have assumed Jewels might burst into tears at the insinuation the adopted daughter stormed herself downstairs to create her own path of fire and brimstone bringing up each and every fault James had. The very same boy who gifted Lily the bracelet she had shown off all day who was far crueler to their joint friend until eventually the both of them were sent to bed by their parents without supper, away from their amused visiting relatives, in separate rooms.

 Pt 7

[br4inr0tx]

Greetings and Salutations ♡ meant to do this awhile back, but if you're still doing matchups I'd like to request a hazbin hotel matchup, if not that's okay feel free to ignore

My pronouns are She/Him and I’m Pansexual. I'm an INFP, sign being Scorpio. Im a 5'4 Hispanic female with a pear shaped figure and am a bit chubby. I have shoulder length dyed red hair thats messy constantly and gets in my face all the time which others tend fix for me for some reason. I’m an extroverted introvert, though it's really hard to speak to people or make friends as I suffer from paranoia and have scopophobia (I also have depression, and PTSD. I tend to dissociate/ feel as I'm not real) so it's rather intimidating to be around those who are new and I'm not comfortable with, I can be considered a non people person due to the fact I'm hard to approach thanks to my resting bitch face and keep my distance. It leads to many making assumptions about me / not liking me. My style consists of Goth/Grunge, and my interests align with my style as I love true crime, horror movies, gore, analog horror, induldge in the splatterpunk genre of books and love junji ito and have a few of his manga. I love finding and collecting little things for my friends and give it to them as a gift no matter what it is to the point my friends call me crow as a joke. When I finally become comfortable with someone I become very talkative and speak in a rather fast paced manner and tend to speak in both English and Spanish. I love to joke around with them and banter. Most of my humor comes off as rude or just fucked up, though I'll never joke in a manner that actually hurts the person and will apologize if I've overstepped. I’m not good with my temper however and can be pretty mean, or just go very quiet. If pushed far enough I’ll snap at anything and everything to the point I'm nothing but numb and the goal is to hurt the person. My favorite things to do for comfort / hobbies are drawing, reading, writing, playing video games (overwatch, dead by daylight, hollow knight) and or blasting music ( MCR, Get Scared, Deftones, Pierce the Veil, Souixie and the banshees, Mother Mother ). I’m a little clingy and possessive with those I love / am romantically involved with due to a lot of issues I need reassurance in any form of way it doesn't matter how big or small. I enjoy doing things for others and speak rather romantically and call them pet names. Dealing with insomnia I'm definitely awake most hours and am happy if someone is a night owl and spends that time up with me as night is likely my favorite time always having adored the moon and stars . I’m definitely a masochist and a switch though am guilty of leaning more towards submissive,,, ♡ - Cherri

you omg I remember you. thank you for the matchup on my end, I really appreciated it. :)

Your Hazbin Hotel matchup is.. Alastor !!

• This might be biased because you’re his wife, however, I just feel like the two of you would click. Husk would find you way too soft emotionally, Niffty wants someone more dominant, Angel is well..not attracted to any sort of femininity.. and Charlie and Vaggie find your gruesome interests frightening. Another person I thought about was Pentious,, but I think any parter would grow tired of his naivety and arrogant nature. And I just genuinely can’t picture you keeping up with Cherri-Bomb, light heartedly.

• So, that left me with this fucker. He has softer spots for certain people (as seen with Niffty and maybe Charlie) and when it comes to you he treats you somewhat like a..cherished pet? Trust me, you most likely would want to be put at that level than be on his shit-list.

• You’re so small and fragile..how could a tiny thing like you fall for him so easily- and not be intimidated? He teases you about it often, using you as an arm rest, or just by grabbing something atop the shelf just to show how bigger he is to you.

• Deep down, he loves you for you. He wouldn’t change a thing about you even if things about you he wishes you to get stronger from or at. Everyone has flaws, and he knows that. Learning from those flaws is something he wants to teach you. Perhaps you could do the same.

• For example, he finds some of your fears pathetic. As a high and mighty figure there isn’t much for him to fear, so its understandable. Though he might tell you to suck it up if he’s running low on patience. Other times he’s more forgiving.

• His style is more of a gothic Victorian thing. Or as Angel says; a pimp. With his New Orleans background I’d like to think he would dress similar to Dr Facilier from The Princess and The Frog.

• Point is, he enjoys a good dark toned style. Dress in something more of his style, and his jaw will DROP.

• He’s kind of tough,, he won’t watch movies with you, or watch anything really TV related. Though if theirs a live projection screening, or talk show on horror movies or true crime, he’ll watch or listen that way. I think he makes his rivalry with Vox really clear that way imo.

• Alastor doesn’t get this manga you read. The visuals are impressive-sure-but why do you read it backwards? And why is it all mostly pictures? Ironically, I see him reading them anyway just to understand them. He loves to learn if it partains to him.

• He takes the nickname "crow" to seriously, symbolism wise. Crow’s are related to death, bad luck, revenge, and most importantly..pride. Really anytime he sees one it compels him to think about you, and in return maybe even get you a thoughtful gift. In his prideful way he changed it into a nickname you should be proud of. He tends to just call you “my crow.”

• Fast or slow talking, Alastor is very quick witted and usually understands every word you’re saying. He has very fucked up humor and would gladly join you in bickering about morbid things.

• As a overlord, he doesn’t really have time for insults. All "water off a ducks back" n stuff. He makes an effort to teach that to you as well. Though that effort quickly becomes slightly hypocritical when someone says something to you while he’s right next to you. I mean, the audacity, right?

• Again, being an overlord he can’t show any sense of vulnerability. That being said the only way you can see him even close to being cuddly is in your shared bed, shortly before the two of you fall asleep. He might settle for slight hand holding, but even then only with a limited amount of people.

• Alastor is a healthy man, physically, and makes and effort to get a proper sleep schedule. He’s going to help you do the same, even if he has to use one of his spells or sing you to sleep. Those times are the times you’d see him cuddle you the most.

• Most of the pet names he uses are “dear”, “love”, “darling”, and “sweetheart”. Simple, yet with his charming and smooth voice, very effective.

• Imagine the two of you dancing to Arm Tonite by Mother Mother. He admits it’s not his type of music, but something about the lyrics pulls at his heart strings.

• Or even imagine a cute date night with the two of you..first he takes you out to dinner at a VERY expensive restaurant, and then takes you out stargazing. It’s all different from what it used to be with the red sky and all..but he hopes it’s just as enjoyable.

• I know it’s canonical he’s asexual, but I think he’s still romantic? Especially in the additional comic where he somewhat flirts with some ladies. Though the fandom, per usual, throws that out the window.

• Still, he gives more dominant vibes for any relationship. He’s used to being at the top for most things, so why should it just stop at power?

• The two of you are peas in a pod. Your own little twisted fairy tail. Whatever I could use to describe to cheesy romance- you get it. A match made for in hell. <3

[ducknotinarow]

"If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for what happens next." ( Devil/Alastor )

| Muse interaction Alastor had to say there was many a truth to the old sayings about the draw and allure of the Devil. Sure it was meant to talk about the temptation the so-called Devil held to make one do evil or unspeakable things. Alastor didn't need the Devil in his ear to cause some trouble himself he was more than happy to listen to his own inner demon without the aid of a push in that direction. Smirking to himself giving a slight bite to his bottom lip as he stood off to the side and simply admired them from his place. Wishing to speak and get some time alone with the devil. Al found he walked in at the wrong time, well wrong to others.

The Devil busy hollering out to one of the many under his rule was disappointed in them once again. Such a pity. Well for them not to Alastor he was enjoying the show put on display for him right now. Watching the rage would out across thier face and how they volumized it all in a single breath. Eyes burning with thier anger vines popped and showed as they seemed to control the flame of fire to just demonstrate it more.

Yeah, Alastor was enjoying this a lot, finally though seemed they were done to notice they had company. The Devil strolled over towards him and Alastor set his cane to the ground leaning in against it as he looked the Devil over for a moment. "Busy dear? hopefully not too much for little old me of course. Quite the show I walked in on not that I mind so a good backstage event seems to have winded you up though." Letting fingers walk thier arm "I think the phase about Hell having no fury may need to be worked after that display" he smirked a little and gave them a half-lidded soft gaze. "Because clearly, the rage of the devil can not be matcheded from what I've seen" Slightly teaseing them and the display he walked in on.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for what happens next."

"Oh, that so? hmm, I don't think I can stop now though. You know how they say the devil can whisper the allure of doing bad? I think I'd cause trouble alone just to get the attention on myself simply for how absolutely tantalizing the sight alone was." Lifting up to stand up straight now himself. "Then again it wouldn't take much convincing if I had your whispers in my ears." Trying to prod at the devil and see if they would carry out with thier remark on what they may just do to Alastor if he didn't stop so he went on to lay the sweet talk thier way. but he offered a laugh to play of his sweet-talking just a moment ago.

"Seems I got a little carried away there dear." Playfully tapping a finger to the mic as he sides eye them "Can you blame me for being so captivated by the charming allure of the devil's wrath though?" Smirking as he speaks "Though being all tied up with annoyance can't be good for your health now, is it? Perhaps it's time for a break? getting away to destress yourself some."

Sliding into thier side now happily taking the place as he got in close to them, a finger trailing under thier chin as he was slow to take hold their face a mocking 'aww' sound out between static radio singles coming out of him. "You can just see the tension settling on your shoulders. It's not good to let it build you know smiling it far relaxing when stress like such" letting his thumb sweep across thier mouth drawing out a curve as if he were prompting them to give a said smile. Only to hum in response "hmm maybe I need to give you a reason to smile? help you relax I'd love nothing more than to sooth those troubles away in your mind." hand dropping to trail down thier neck and settles against thier chest now.

"Why don't you let Alastor take good care of you? some tea, music to relax you. Dim lighting a nice quiet space just the two of us." Leaning in his head to speak against thier ear "After all it's hard to be wound up when we're tangled up in the bed together?" soft low hums of music playing now as he went about taking his chance in the moment. "I'll help take you mind off of everything don't you agree?"

[hibisha]

Hello, a friend of yours said you might be able to recommend some radiodust fanfics, and it can be anything im not picky

RadioDust fanfics you say? Alright *cracks knuckles* here we go.

1.) The Charismatic Cannibal’s Guide to Self Care

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor chuckled around a hand. Angel would never get over how shark-like he could look. Fangs were the norm here, but Alastor’s had a certain animal quality that fit strangely in a humanoid face. Too big and too many. And right now they were tinged with a hint of red from his choice of drink.

“So what,” he said, “would liven up the place for you, sport?”

You might assume that Angel Dust is the bad influence in every situation. You would be wrong.

The Radio Demon has plans for Hell, and plans for Angel. And they aren't pretty.

Will contain gore/cannibalism/murder and plenty of fun, bad people. Please read the tags and content warning. Plot now, smut to follow.

Personal thoughts: It only one chapter so far but I really like the premise.

2.) Their Arrangement

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust have come to an agreement after Angel pushes the Radio Demon's buttons a little too far and inadvertently awakens the long forgotten urges buried under decades of bloodlust.

Personal thoughts: One of my literal favorites. Alastor and Angel’s evolving relationship from sex friends to ‘oh shit I have feelings’ *chef’s kiss*.

3.) Absolute Territory

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust is an absolute terror for Absolute Territory.

Alastor never knew he had a thing for stockings until Angel decides to flaunt a pair, matched with a pleated skirt and an oversized sweatshirt.

Personal thoughts: Have some good ol’ smut.

4.) Heart Between His Teeth

Rating: E

Summary: So maybe there are better things to life than being drugged and fucked so hard you can't even think for yourself.

Personal thoughts: OMFG. I CAN NOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS FIC.

5.) Angel Dust’s Not So Illustrious Life

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor isn’t sure why he’s become Angel’s primary target, but the more he attempts to dissuade Angel’s advances, the more fervent they seem to become.

And maybe Alastor likes that...maybe...Yet it seems there’s more to Angel than innuendos and a quick romp.

Personal thoughts: I kinda love this fic a lot where Angel and Alastor respect each other’s boundaries.

6.) Caught In His Own Web

Rated:E

Summary: "So when the devil wants to dance with you, you better say never. Because the dance with the devil might last you forever."

Redemption is hard when you don't want to do it. Redemption is even harder when a certain Radio Demon keeps enabling your sinful behavior.

Personal thoughts: My favourite trope, bad people being worse together.

7.) I Thought I Knew You 

Rated: M

Summary: Angel Dust can't ruin the hotel's reputation if he can't go outside. Or, at least, that's what Alastor says. Of course, it's all a ploy to torture Alastor's least favorite spider demon, but maybe he doesn't know Angel Dust as well as he thinks he does.

Personal thoughts: I really like this one especially since it feeds into my “Alastor is a dick in all AUs.”

8.) Sex, drugs and radio host

Rating: E

Summary: For some ungodly reason, Alastor decides to keep Angel safe and sound - meaning no sex, prostitution and certainly no drugs. Of course, this wild idea is met with more than a little resistance. But... no one ever cared if Angel was safe. And sometimes, all he would like is a hug. Sex sure is nice, but he is more than willing to explore the possibilities.

The trouble is, it doesn't seem like Alastor is offering anything specific. Keeping things strange and vague is not helping, especially when a new guest catches Alastor's attention.

Personal thoughts: Its cute and theres feelings involved is all I’m saying.

9.) Gentleman's Wager 

Rating: None

Summary: Sick of listening to Angel Dust's crass and vulgar language, Alastor makes a bet with him. If Angel Dust can remain absolutely silent for one whole week, he'll give in and kiss him.

Personal thoughts: *inhales* JVKJGCHJCHJCVJHVJHGCJHCJHCGFD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PLEASE READ IT.

10.) Triggered 

Rating: None

Summary: Angel Dust had never really thought too much about the static hum surrounding Alastor wherever he went... until now anyway.

Personal thoughts: It's a very good fic about ANgel dealing with PTSD. Def check it out.

11.) Dinner and Drinks 

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust can barely tolerate each other and Charlie seeks to fix that.

Personal thoughts: Again, a slow development of Angel and Alastor’s relationship.

12.) You Do Something to Me 

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor's radio signals go both ways, and for the past few decades he's tuned into the most beautiful voice. What a surprise to find the source in the Happy Hotel right under his nose.

A relationship that grows through music.

Personal thoughts: AGAIN, PLEASE READ THIS IT IS CUTE HECK AND WILL CLEAR YOUR SKIN. Also, its part 2: No One Knows Anything But Us 

13.) 1932

Rating: M

Summary: The 1930s are the for perfect time to nurture any up-and-coming radio host or serial killer alike. Alastor is no exception.

Set in New Orleans in 1932, Alastor is living his best life. Broadcaster by day and home chef by night, he's learned that Jumbalaya is best served with a side of human liver and a still beating heart. That is until he brings the wrong meal to his table, a member of the Italian mafia, and ends up biting off more than he can chew.

With his latest meal escaping the table and his identity running the risk of being found out, Alastor faces his biggest hunt yet. The streets of New Orleans are his forest and this time, it's his head on the platter.

AKA Alastor screws up and now has to fix his mess in Dixieland while balancing his day job, cannibalistic hunger, and learn how to be a decent human being for once along the way. Should be fun.

Personal thoughts: I absolutely adore this fic. Please give it a shot.

14.) Contracts and Deals Series

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust, Hell's number one porn actor.

Alastor, Hell's most renowned overlord.

The two cross paths.

Angel makes a deal with Alastor to get out of his contract with Valentino. One thing leads to another.

Personal thoughts: It’s a good series that eventually gets really fluffy.

15.) Good Management

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor thought he had Angel Dust filed away into his niche box in the Hotel. He was wrong. But he's a good enough manager to fix his responsibilities.

Personal thoughts: Its AngeliaDark. You know it’s good.

16.) Anything for you

Rating: M

Summary: Valentino faces the consequences of hurting someone that Alastor deeply favors

i.e. Val fucking dies

Personal thoughts: Any fic where Val dies is a good fic.

17.) Predator and Prey

Rating: M

Summary: Every couple of years, Angel Dust goes through a change that makes him a lot less tolerable to be around, for many more reasons than one. The staff of the Hotel are about to learn that the hard way, none more so than Alastor.

Personal thoughts: Okay so, slight dubcon, would recommend checking the tags before going into it. Though I love how it tackles on the story of Alastor being a deer which is technically a prey animal and Angel being the predator for once. Absolutely love it.

18.) Good Tidings 

Rating: T

Summary: A Christmas party in Hell isn't the big selling point for the Happy Hotel (For Hazbins), but Charlie feels that the holiday season is just what her friends need to open up to and help one another.

So what better way to do it than with a Secret Santa?

When Angel Dust draws none other than his crush, the Radio Demon, he knows he has one shot to not eff it up.

Personal thoughts: Really fluffy, a good read. Highly recommend it.

19.) Vanilla Bean

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor decides to try his hand at pet names and inadvertently offends Angel Dust. Rated T for swearing and there's suggestive content if you close one eye, tilt your head, and squint.

Personal thoughts: Okay so i loved this one because of how badly these two handle communication.

20.) For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor's solitude is interrupted by Angel Dust who has just escaped a rough client and the two spend the last moments of 2019 together.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. I just love Angel and Alastor dancing together okay.

21.) I Like It Better When I'm With You 

 Rating: M

Summary: Angel deals with feelings. Alastor deals with feelings. Just a whole lot of pining.

Personal thoughts: Summary says it all.

22.) Technical Difficulties

Rating: M

Summary: The hotel is running relatively well. Relationships between Alastor and the rest of the staff are budding surprisingly smoothly. And then the rainfall starts up, threatening all of it.

Alastor's out of tune.

Personal thoughts: I love how this is written. Slowburn but worth it.

23.) Lurking in the Shadows 

Rated M

Summary: 5 instances where a curious and head-over-heels shadow follows Angel Dust around and 1 time where Angel decides to follow it instead.

Personal thoughts: It’s very cute how Alastor’s shadow pines after Angel.

24.) Crossroads

Rating: M

Summary: A mafioso’s and a murderous radio star’s paths collide in New Orleans in the winter of 1933.

Personal thoughts: OKAY SO I REALLY LOVE THIS BECAUSE HUMAN AUS ARE MY JAM AND THEN ALASTOR AND ANGEL BEING TERRIBLE HUMANS TOGETHER IS EVEN BETTER.

25.) Needle Through a Bug

Rating: E

Summary: Angel wakes up in a hospital after a party. His doctor is very strange, worryingly so. Still, he can't help but be intrigued.

Personal thoughts: Doctor AU. Alastor is insane. I love it because Alastor manages to be as creepy as possible while saving lives.

26.) My Roommate's a Demonic Deer 

 Rating: M

Summary: Don't you hate it when you "accidentally" summon a demon to fix a problem within your home, only to find out that they don't do that, so now you're stuck with a cannibalistic demon that constantly tracks blood onto the floor, brings other unholy beings into your apartment, and makes amazing jambalaya? It's amazing insanity!

Personal thoughts: Lmao I love demon summoning gone wrong so this was really an amazing read. Angel being a true himbo is always the best.

27.) Human Hazbin Roommates AU series

Rating: E, M

Summary: A series of porny RadioDust one-shots depicting modern human AU roommate life.

Notes:

Glimpses into the human lives of insufferable roommates.

(AKA This was supposed to be a practice at writing present tense smut and it devolved into sex and feelings)

Personal thoughts: Dive in for the smut, come out with the feels.

28: Darker Side of Hell series

Rating: E

Summary: Follow Charlie and later Alastor as part of my Story for the Hazbin hotel... It ain't pretty, so enjoy!

Personal thoughts: Not everyone’s cup of tea so i suggest reading the tags but I really love this series a lot. Angel being awkward and in love is the best shit ever. Its an amazing series.

29.) Scorched, Uninhabited, Rejected

Rating: M

Summary: When Hell suddenly loses all working functions, and angels start dropping from their overhead perches to attack the underworlds population, Charlie has no idea what to do before she's suddenly face to face with a Archangel. Though something, clearly, isn't right about the air the angel assures her to keep those who are dear tucked tightly by her side as the disaster struggles to fix itself.

But nothing is as it seems, Overlords' powers are dwindling and even her own is becoming strained as she struggles to protect her beloved hotel and friends from the Exterminators outside.

Personal thoughts: *vibrates* Can’t say much without spoilers so I’m just gonna beg ya all to read this.

30.) The Thin Line

Rating: None

Summary: Studies say it takes fifty hours of interaction before you consider someone a casual friend and two hundred to be a close friend. Alastor and Angel Dust manage to skip right past close friends to something more without either even noticing they've crossed the line.

31.) La Vie En Rose

Rating: G

Summary: Alastor learns that Angel is afraid of thunderstorms, and Angel in turn learns about the Radio Demon.

32.) falling 

Rating: M

Summary: "You're hot as fuck, be my boyfriend."

That was perhaps the worst thing he could've possibly said from that standpoint.

A college setting where Angel gets suddenly awful at flirting when it comes to the face of his crush, a cute library assistant that goes by Alastor.

Personal thoughts: COLLEGE AU COLLEGE AU. 

33.) Old Habits Die Hard

Rating: G

Summary: Angel decides to bring back a little habit of his after having a rough time.

Personal thoughts: Hella soft, please read.

34.) Handwritten 

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor imagines Angel must be lonely in heaven, he writes to keep him company.

 A series of letters addressed to Angel.

Personal thoughts: Hi, do you like crying into your pillow at 2 AM? You do? The look no further, this is the fic for you! Now, with extra heart wrenching feels!

35.) Relapse and Recovery

Rating: T

Summary: Going clean was never going to be easy, but easy was something Angel Dust never expected going into this anyway. At least he has a good support system to help him along the way.

Personal thoughts: I just really like AngeliaDark’s fics okay.

36.) Catalyst

Rating: T

Summary: All couples have their downfalls, and an event that should have been celebrated only drives Alastor and Angel Dust apart.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. It’s very well written, reads easy and you’ll feel fluffy for days.

37.) Dinner Date: A RadioDust Tale

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust finally finds a way to get Alastor to agree to a 'date'. After all, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Sometimes literally.

Personal thoughts: One of my favourite stories about RadioDust.

38.) This One's Dedicated to [static interruption]

Rating: M

Summary: A couple of years since the hotel's opening, the residents have settled down into a fairly tolerable routine. Recently, some of them have begun experiencing peculiar symptoms which become more noticeable as time passes. To his dismay, the Radio Demon finds that he is not immune.

A chance encounter with Angel Dust propels the two demons together as they attempt to answer what's behind the unusual phenomena, while rediscovering all the things they thought dead and buried along the way.

Personal thoughts: Slowburn but definitely worth it. I love the story and how it’s progressing with a certain mystery surrounding the whole plot.

Also slight self plug I guess:

39.) 14 ways to say “I Love You”

Rating: T

Summary: Just a collection of small drabbles I’m writing on based on single word prompts.

Please check it out if you’re a fan of odd AUs.

Wowee, that’s a lot. I’m gonna call it a night and say that’s all for today. I hope you enjoy these! 

[juliandev0rak]

You’re The Reason I’m Leaving

Chapter Three of I’m Your Villain

Words: 3063

Warnings: mentions of death, murder, all the usual things for a story about an assassin

The weather has turned from sun to pouring rain in the span of an hour, and Cadmus paces his room in a dour mood. 

There are a few hours till nightfall when he needs to leave for Greythal, and he’s trying to strategize and pack his saddle bag but the incessant sound of the rain is too distracting. It’s giving him a headache and he could really use a nap, or a drink, but he has no time for either. 

His pacing stops abruptly as he feels a presence at his back and he turns to see his door swing open soundlessly. It’s nearly impossible to sneak up on him after years of honing his instincts, and even his brother who has magical abilities that allow him to fade into invisibility can’t pass unnoticed.

“Come to see me off, then?” Cadmus smirks, taking in the sight of his younger brother leaning against the doorframe. Alastor looks expressionless as always, his demeanor cold as the icy color of his skin. The Durand family are all blonde, but Alastor’s hair is white. 

Alastor takes a step into the room and Cadmus resists the urge to take a step back to distance himself from his brother. Alastor smiles, a look that reminds Cadmus of his father in its unnaturalness. “I wouldn’t be so happy if I were you, Cadmus. This isn’t an ordinary mission.” 

Cadmus scoffs,“You’re just upset that father sent me instead of you.”

“No. I have missions of my own, far more important ones.” Alastor walks over to the window, peering outside with disdain.

“I doubt that, but since you’ve clearly come here to gloat about it- do tell me how important you are.” Cadmus rolls his eyes and turns back to the bag he’d been packing. If he has to stand here and listen to Alastor, he can at least do something more useful with his time.

“You have no clue, do you?” Alastor’s tone has gone even colder, his anger turning on like a light. Cadmus has the same temper, but while he’s fire- Alastor is all ice

“No clue about what?”

“You’re easily replaceable, if you fail someone will rise up to take your place.” Alastor sounds like he’s reciting the words from memory. “Father once told me that when you die there won't even be a funeral, you won’t get a burial. He said ‘Why would we make a monument to Cadmus’ failure?’ When you die it will be as if you never existed.” 

Cadmus laughs, this is nothing he hasn’t heard before. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’d like to be cremated then! Makes things easier for all of us.” He crosses the room to where his brother stands staring at the rain. “Now, did you have a point to make or did you just come here to be an asshole? I’m a bit busy if you haven’t noticed.”

Alastor scoffs and turns to face his brother, his expression returned to blank stone. “Good luck then, brother.” The way he says the word is like a curse.

Instead of using the door, Alastor turns towards the stone wall and walks through it as if it wasn’t there. Another of his fancy magic tricks. Their mother had always favored Alastor, she’d taught him all of the magic she knows and as he’d risen in power he’d also risen as a threat. He’s only a few years younger than Cadmus, but Cadmus knows he wants the throne.

Cadmus doesn’t care much for ruling. He thinks being the Comte would be boring, too much administration, not enough action. But it’s his right as the eldest and he’ll be damned if he lets his creepy shit of a little brother take it from him. Alastor is clearly willing to kill for the position, and Cadmus doesn’t doubt he’ll strike when the opportunity arises. So he keeps his guard up, not trusting even the stones around him. 

Cadmus has got one more goodbye, and he’s saved the most important for last. His sister’s room is down the hall from his, around a winding corner where guards are always posted. Despite his cruelty, Daphne is the Comte’s favorite child by far. She’s kept in her gilded cage, only to be released some day when the perfect suitor arrives.

Before Cadmus can even raise his hand to knock on the door it swings open, revealing the excited face of his younger sister. She opens the door for him to enter and he takes in the sight of her room, drawn in by the color and vibrancy. Every wall is covered in paintings she’s done, and every window sill is full of plants. It’s her one sanctuary in this desolate place and though the room feels just as cold as the rest of the castle, it’s full of Daphne’s warmth.

“What did father say?” Daphne asks, pulling Cadmus further in so she can shut the door behind him.

Cadmus sighs, not wanting to disappoint her. “I’m afraid I have bad news. He wouldn’t budge.” 

“Noooo.” Daphne puts her head in her hands dramatically and Cadmus would laugh if he didn’t hear real despair in her voice. “When do you have to leave again?” 

“Tonight. But perhaps once Greythal has been secured father will be less worried about your safety. I’m sorry Daph.” 

Daphne heaves a heavy sigh that seems to reveal the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. “I’ll survive, I always do. I have my books at least.” 

“Don’t be too hard on Clarisse while I’m gone,” Cadmus says, thinking of the old woman who had been his governess and is now Daphne’s. She’d been strict, but kinder than his own mother had ever been. Or at least more present, which has to count for something,

“You should tell Clarisse not to be too hard on me! She’s practically made my fingers bleed with all the needlepoint she’s been forcing on me.” Daphne scowls, rubbing her fingertips together as if remembering the pain of a needle prick. “I want to learn to fight like you, or do magic! Anything would be more useful than sitting indoors all day. Mother says I’m too dull for magic but she’s never even tried to teach me!” 

“She said I was too dull for magic too.” Cadmus laughs, “And trust me, you don’t want to learn to fight.” 

“I think I’d look quite imposing with a sword.” Daphne strikes a pose, lifting her hand up as if she’s holding a weapon. Cadmus laughs at the sight of her, over a foot shorter than him and wearing a very impractical gown. She turns towards him angrily. “Nobody lets me do anything!” 

“We’re simply trying to protect you, Daph. It’s safer inside the walls.” Cadmus reaches a hand out towards her shoulder but she shoves it away. 

“I’d rather die than spend another day trapped in this drafty old castle.” Daphne crosses her arms and looks at him defiantly. It’s the same facial expression Cadmus wears when he’s pouting and while he thinks she’s being a bit dramatic, he understands the sentiment.

Cadmus sighs, unsure how to console her. “One day when you’re the Comtess or when you’ve married some handsome duke you’ll be able to see the world, but for now it’s safest for you here. You just have to be patient.” 

“Now you sound like father. I thought you were on my side.” Daphne frowns and he notices a sudden mist of tears cloud her blue eyes.

It’s gone from a casual conversation to actual emotions, and though this is his little sister, the person he’s closest too in the world, Cadmus still has no idea how to handle tears. She watches him for a moment as a tear runs down her cheek and then turns away, hiding her face from him. He doesn’t know what to do but he doesn’t want her to hide things like he does, he doesn’t think he even has the ability to cry at this point.

“Daph,” Cadmus hesitates, then pulls her into a hug. She buries her head in his shoulder and though she’s silent, he can feel her shoulders shaking and the sleeve of his coat getting wet. 

“Come back, please,” Daphne pleads, her voice muffled against his coat.“You have to come back. Don’t leave me here.” 

Cadmus sighs, understanding her outburst more clearly now. It isn’t just being cooped up inside that’s bothering her, it’s him leaving. She doesn’t know exactly what he does when he’s gone on missions, but she knows it’s dangerous. He’s come back injured before, been left bed-ridden or worse for days, but she doesn’t know how close he’s been to dying.

“Don’t I always come back?” Cadmus says, trying to be comforting. Daphne pushes back from his shoulder to look at him, her eyes red from crying. 

“But what if you don’t,” She sniffles.

“I will, Daphne, I promise.” Cadmus doesn’t like to make promises he doesn’t know he can keep, but he’s always come back before. 

“I just know Alastor will be a terror while you’re gone.” She frowns, angrily wiping away tears. 

“He’s always a terror. Just threaten him with one of your embroidery needles, that’ll scare him off,” Cadmus jokes. Daphne gives him a hint of a smile and pulls back from the hug, reaching into her pocket to pull out a needle. 

“En garde!” She says, brandishing the needle forward towards Cadmus. He lets her tap his arm with the needle and then dramatically puts his hand to his heart. “Oh no! You got me!” He fake swoons, falling to the floor in a heap as Daphne bursts into laughter. After a moment she holds out her hand to help him up and Cadmus pulls her down instead, causing her to burst into giggles again. When they both calm down Daphne sits up, leaning against the wall as she looks at Cadmus.

“If you don’t come back I’ll track you down and kill you myself.” She looks at him very gravely, and though the words are humorous, he doesn’t doubt she’d try.

“You sound more like a Durand every day,” Cadmus laughs.

“And bring me back a present,” She says imperiously, with the tone of someone who has never been denied anything in her life. Which is pretty much the truth.

“Yep, definitely a Durand.” Cadmus reaches out to ruffle her hair and she pulls away with an annoyed noise. “I’ll bring you back a flower.” 

It’s tradition that he always brings her something new for her botanical journal. He picks the prettiest flower he can find on his journey, whichever flower he thinks she’d like the best. Daphne catalogues the pressed flowers in her journal. and each entry is complete with a drawing and a label. Sometimes he brings her duplicates on accident, but she’s always just as pleased. 

He gives her one last hug goodbye and then he’s off to find Agatha who is probably busy hunting mice. By the time his familiar’s been located the sun has begun to set and it’s time to leave. As he’s saddling his horse he looks up at the castle one last time. Silhouetted in the late afternoon light is his mother, standing in the window of the tallest tower.

Her private library and workshop are up there, it’s where he used to take magic lessons before she decided he was useless at it. He’s not allowed up there anymore, not that he minds. The tower also serves as a torture chamber for enemies unlucky enough to be brought in alive. Or for Durand sons who misbehave.

Cadmus turns away from the tower and his mother’s keen eyes and gets on his horse. There’s no use thinking about the past when he’s got the present to focus on.

—————————–

It’s a two day ride to Greythal through some of the ugliest landscape Cadmus has ever seen.

He likes the ocean views of Avronne, the way the cliff sides are both beautiful and deadly, covered in plants and trees which cling to life along their edges. The road to Greythal is all pasture and cows and manure. The city itself is on the coast, but the road there is anything but a trip to the seaside.

It rains the entire night, and when Cadmus stops to rest the next morning he’s thoroughly drenched and grateful for the weak sunlight coming through the clouds. He sleeps fitfully beneath a tree, his instincts on edge in case he’s seen from the road. He wishes he had someone here to take watch shifts, but working alone is safer. He’ll take sleep deprivation over a knife in the back from a traitorous partner.

Cadmus isn’t entirely alone at least. His horse Alecto is very dependable, and although Cadmus wouldn’t admit it- she’s a very good listener as well. He talks to her, and Agatha, as he rides. He tells them about the landscape, about his family, about how he sometimes wishes he could simply relax. Animals are good confidants, they can’t tell his secrets to anyone nor can they try to give him advice or lecture him like another person would. 

The trip passes quickly, the landscape blurring together from rain and boredom. When he reaches the outskirts of Greythal on the morning of the party he stops to disguise himself and his horse, enchanting his hair brunette and his white horse spotted brown. He doesn’t intend to be seen by anyone, but it's a necessary precaution. He rides as close as he can get to the castle then continues on foot.

Cadmus surveys the area, looking for a path through the woods so he can avoid the road when he makes his escape later. He finds a well worn path in the dirt and commits the spot to memory. When he returns to his horse he finds Agatha coiling around Alecto’s neck. The horse doesn’t seem to mind the fact that a very deadly snake is in close proximity, Agatha poses no threat unless Cadmus instructs her to bite. 

She’s his best tool of the trade, stealthier than he is despite her large size, and deadlier too. One bite from Agatha, or one drop of her venom which Cadmus keeps in a vial, can kill a person in under 15 minutes. He’s built up a tolerance to various poisons over the course of his training, hardly anything can kill him but a blade alone, yet Agatha’s poison would be too strong even for him.

Normally he doesn’t bring her along on his assignments. She’s nearly twelve feet long and isn’t exactly the easiest to travel with, but he’d had a gut feeling to bring her this time- and he always trusts his instincts. 

Right now his instincts are telling him to run a perimeter around the castle to see what he’s dealing with. So he does just that, creeping through the underbrush of the woods until he reaches the low stone wall surrounding the castle on the hill. It’s an imposing building, larger than his family's castle. Greythal is a wealthy kingdom while Avronne is a smaller, if more powerful, city state. 

Avronne is small but mighty, the seat of a power that reaches far beyond the city walls- that’s what the Comte says at least.

Agatha scouts ahead of him, her movements silent despite the loose brush she slithers through. If something is amiss she’ll alert him. Cadmus keeps his eyes turned towards the castle, watching for the movement of guards. He rounds east towards the back of the castle where he’ll find the princess’ window. Sure enough, a blackthorn tree sits beneath an illuminated window as Xiphos had said it would. 

Cadmus takes in the vines which cling to the stone walls, likely strong enough to help him climb up. He tries to calculate how quickly he thinks he can climb it, his guess is around a minute, maybe less if he can get good footholds.

He considers hopping over the stone wall to enter the grounds for a better look when Agatha hisses at him in alarm. He instantly looks up, seeing a small figure he hadn't noticed waving at him. The figure stands from the bench they’d been sitting on beneath the tree and approaches his spot behind the wall, he’s been spotted. 

“Fuck. Agatha, hide.” He uses the blade of his sword to inspect his reflection, satisfied that he doesn’t look like himself. Agatha slithers into the underbrush, close enough to defend Cadmus if need be. He considers running, but that would be even more suspicious, and as the figure approaches it’s clear that this is a child. He draws his dagger all the same, just in case.

“Who are you?” Calls the child, a young girl around his sister’s age. He takes in her clothing- expensive, perfectly clean, she must be a noble then. Cadmus doesn’t respond, waiting for the girl to explain herself instead. “Are you here for my birthday party?”

It’s then that he realizes the crown on her head, this is the princess. 

He really should run. Instead he stays, stuck to the spot as he takes in the information that he’s been sent here to kill a child. That’s new for him. He’d known she was young- but this girl can’t be older than sixteen. 

“My mother said there are lots of guests coming, are you a guest?” The princess asks. She’s blonde, and Cadmus has to blink hard to rid himself of the image of Daphne. She’s so trusting, so naive, so stupid to approach a stranger with no guards around to protect her.

Cadmus should kill her now while she’s all alone and he has the chance. He can kill her painlessly, so quickly that she’ll barely even feel it. 

Instead he asks, “What’s your name?” 

“You don’t know who I am?” She laughs, taking a step closer to the stone wall that separates them. Cadmus grips his weapon more tightly, but he still can’t make his hand move. “My name is Melia. What’s yours?”

He opens his mouth as if to answer but his body finally catches up to his brain. Cadmus runs. He doesn’t stop until he’s deep in the woods and as far from the girl as he can get. 

He certainly hadn’t planned for this.