#Hazbin Hotel Original Characters

[registeredsinnertm]

A reunion for both close friends and family!! What a better way to capture the moment than to take a picture.

Trying to start making full pieces again :D I think this can show Francis', Mimzy's, and Ophelia's dynamic pretty well!

Check out myP4tr30n and K0f! for a sneak peek and early access!!

❌Do not repost/reupload my art pieces!❌ ♻️Shares, Comments, and Likes are much appreciated♻️

[stormysquiggle]

just a lil teaser poster for my wip Hazbin Hotel / Hellaverse fan comic

Snow Angel 𓆩❆𓆪

[my-dark-lord]

Hi! I wanted to ask, is there a way to read more about your ocs in hellaverse? I just kinda like other people ocs very much lol

Hey! I'm so sorry this is running so late, Nonny, I meant to reply sooner than this but I tend to get distracted super easily. I've got the ADHD pretty bad and in my past life I was the goldfish that made scientists think they all had five second memories.

At any rate, I have quite a few Hellaverse OCs! A lot of fankids and then quite a few surrounding Ozzie or Valentino. I've been working more with the ones that deal with Val, lately, which are mostly Darío, Ostello, and Anya!

The main OCs I have are Ostello, Anya, Darío, Ozzie's Parents (Abstemiounessa and Valore), Archangel Uriel, Leviathan, Magpie, Vick, and then a few others that I don't do much with. I also have fankids but that may be for another time.

I literally just reworked Ostello's bio and took it from 364 words to 1,101 words and updated a lot of information that had become wrong as I wrote him. Anya recently got upgraded from OC that I didn't really do anything with to OC that I'm using a lot more.

They're all on my RP blog, @e-m-p-error, though a lot of them need a little reworking. For now, I can share Ostello and Anya's info here! I've been working on them most recently. Ostello is Valentino's ex-husband and Anya is his Personal Assistant!

It's under a cut for length. Ostello's info is LONG. All art by me.

Anya

Human Name: Anya Kazlow

Name In Hell: Anya

Nicknames: Annie Baby, Yaya

Faceclaim: My/Friend’s Art

Original Universe: Mainverse

Age: 30 (When He Died); 37 Years Dead

Birthday: April 30th, 1956 (Taurus)

Deathday: December 5th, 1986

Height: 6'8"

Gender: Cis Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual Bimantic, Ambigamous

Species: Gorgon Sinner

Snake Color: Red and White

Eye Color: Pale red sclera, bright green irises

Occupation: Valentino’s Personal Assistant

Headcanon Masterlist

When Anya was alive, she worked in a veterinarian’s office that saw a lot of exotic pets owned by bad people. There were all kinds of things that she had to overlook in her line of work, including humans that had bullet wounds or other such injuries. She doubled as a nurse when she had to, and learned how to take care of human and animal injuries alike. Always having been nurturing and gentle, she was well-loved by the Russian mafia in her town in Belarus and ended up getting married to a lower-ranking member after tending to him for one summer.

She was shot on their wedding day when a rival cell infiltrated the wedding and killed as many of the people there as they could. She died holding her lover’s hand, and vowing revenge. This never came to fruition.

Meeting Valentino not long after she fell, Anya was hired on to be his PA after she ended up gentling him through an injury that he obtained in a turf war. She happened to be there at the time, and he decided having a medically minded personal assistant would be a good idea. She sold her soul to him, and being an important member of his team, she was given the golden tooth that Angel Dust and Val both had. She is in love with Valentino, but he only sees her as a friend. She’s mostly okay with this because it’s worth it just to be near him. It is her job to handle most things that Vox doesn’t handle for him. This can be anything from cast lists to work schedules to bartending if he needs someone to cover a shift. If Val needs it done, she’ll do it.

Her snakes are Frog Eating Rat Snakes, and because of this, they have bacteria in their mouths. If she bites you, it is an immediate, violent, and disgusting case of leprosy that can kill in minutes. She has only ever bitten three people, and she usually doesn’t, but she will absolutely do it if it is necessary.

Anya is very nosy and always likes to be up on the latest gossip and whatever juicy things are going on around Val. She will pry into his business while she takes care of him while he’s drunk so she is abreast of the latest drama.

Ostello 

Human Name: Oscar Lawrence

Name In Hell: Ostello

Nicknames: Tello, Baby (Valentino Exclusive), Broadway (@strangeandun-muse-ual’s Vox Exclusive)

Faceclaim: My Art/Al Pacino

Original Universe: Mainverse

Birthday: January 21st, 1899

Human Deathday: May 3rd, 1944

Demon Deathday: February 9th, 1980 (Assassinated by Val with a Holy spear)

Age: 45 (When He Died As A Human); 36 Years Dead (When Killed By Val); 80 Years Dead (In Heaven)

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Homosexual Homoromantic Ambigamous

Species: Badger Sinner

Height: 6'8"

Relation: Valentino’s Ex-Husband (Widowed)

Occupation: Overlord, Pop-Jazz Singer, Arms Dealer

Headcanon Masterlist

When he was alive, his name was Oscar Lawrence. Oscar was the son of Ruth and Samuel Lawrence, their only child. Marty was his father’s best friend, his right-hand man in the fire department, and his wife’s affair partner. Oscar knew about the affair for approximately a year before his father died on Christmas day when he was ten years old. A year after his father’s death, Marty was his stepfather, and while he never held any express animosity toward him, he never called Marty his father. His mother and Marty had two kids together who were twelve and fourteen years younger than he was, and he was never particularly close to his half-siblings.

At seventeen, he had dropped out of school and gone to work in a club in Omaha. He was discovered singing one of the numbers from a nightly show while cleaning by his boss, who loved his sound and gave him his own attempt at playing a show one Saturday night. For starters, he did a few covers of things that he had heard and ended the night on a song he’d written himself. His lyrics were filled with a longing he became known for, a desire for something he could never have. It became something that was so Oscar Lawrence to long, to pine so genuinely and openly that it was impossible to separate from him. So much of his music was about barely scraping his fingertips against the thing he longed for, and nobody could ever quite get out of him what it was.

When he was twenty, he met Olivia, his wife-to-be. She fell for him, hard and fast, and he never felt much. But it was a suspicious thing for a man his age not to have a wife, and he liked Olivia enough to live with her. Oscar was rarely home, out touring and recording a lot, but at twenty-one their daughter, Gertrude “Gertie” Rose Lawrence was born. He rarely saw her, and when he was home, he was usually sad and drunk. Gertie doesn’t remember much of her dad, but his biggest sin with her was neglect. He never rose his hand against her or her mother, and he was never particularly cruel.

However, he did cheat on his wife. Often while he was on tour, he could sleep with any woman that wanted him in ways he found impossible to do with his wife at home. Like many singers of his time, he also had a stage presence on the silver screen. Much like he found many temporary replacements for his wife, he found a semi-permanent replacement for his daughter as a mentor to Shirley Temple.

If there was something as Oscar Lawrence as pure, unadulterated longing, it was a desire to run from what he did have with that same desperation.

His biggest sin in life was that he was gay in a time when that was very highly frowned upon, and it was a well-kept secret. Nobody knew about it, and he never once acted on it while he was alive.

When he died in 1944, it was a slow, painful, and disorienting death alone in a hospital half a country away from his family. His wife and daughter flew out to see him just in time to say goodbye, and he couldn’t recall who they were. He died of acute liver failure that had progressed under the radar of his manager who had been busy working him through the holidays.

Olivia sued the company for negligence that led to her husband’s death, and she and Gertie continued to never want for anything but the man whom they owed their cushy lives to. Neither could say they knew him before he died, and after they would know him even less.

Oscar sort of expected to fall into Hell, and when he did, he was unsurprised. For a few months, he just tooled around, feeling out his new abilities and appearance as a badger. He discovered early on that he had pyrokinesis and it was something of a novelty for a while.

One night while walking the streets and experimenting with it in the lonely hours of the morning, he gave a fireball too much juice and shot an Overlord on her way back from a big deal. He didn’t expect it, and it led to a huge fight between the two of them in which Ostello accidentally became the victor. It was a hard fight and when her gun was knocked from her hands, he managed to grab it in the ensuing wrestling for it. Unbeknownst to him, it was loaded with holy bullets, and ended in her demise.

Her attendants, who had scattered during the fight, came to him to tell him that he was now in charge of her territory as long as nobody else took it, and he took the responsibility fairly seriously. This didn’t stop him from pursuing a musical career on top of the weapons dealing, of course, but it was somethingi that he did want to do to the best of his ability.

Ostello, as he eventually renamed himself, became a rather beloved fixture of the Pentagram. He was hard to upset and treated his workers with dignity and respect. They were paid well, especially those who gathered holy metals during the Extermination, and he never went so far as to treat any of them cruelly.

He worked with Alastor to produce radio shows and sang live several times for him. When Vox eventually came around, Ostello left Alastor’s employ to work under a label that Vox owned. He performed for him there, with concerts and other such things, until the day he was killed. His music is still fairly popular and played in several Voxtech buildings.

In 1972, he met Valentino, and in two months married the moth. He was a devoted husband who wanted nothing more than to make his wife happy, and he spent the next eight years absolutely enamored by him. However, Valentino had never really been in love with him, and in 1980 used a holy spearhead pilfered from Ostello’s own armory to kill him.

Due to his love for Valentino driving him to be a much, much happier and better person, when he died he was reincarnated in Heaven. He dislikes Heaven very much because he misses Valentino and was reunited with Olivia. He does not know that Gertie is in Hell. He has been watching Valentino in Hell for years and is abreast with the latest things going on in his life at all times.

[sunlit-mess]

☠️☠️☠️ what is bro doing

[falling-endlessly]

The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards,  like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it. 

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him.  In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.  

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchanté, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion. 

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchanté, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

[artsdoodles]

Lil duck man 🐥

[softcocoa]

Hell's cutest monsters! ⭐️ Molly and Sammael Morningstar ⭐️

everyone on twt are doing radioapple fankids and i wanted to join!!

[jib0]

again sketches and my sona. :ĺ

[fandomxstories]

Angel!Charlie & Vaggie - Role Swap AU (credit)

[theaestheticsromance]

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐏𝐭𝟏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧.

𝐘/𝐧: "𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒?, 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!"

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫.

𝐘/𝐧: "𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!!"

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐭.

𝐘/𝐧: "𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑!!"

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐥𝐲.

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫: "𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 - 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥/𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰"

𝐘/𝐧: 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒!!!!

𝐘/𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐘/𝐧: "𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎!!!"

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡.

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫: "𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭"

[veytri-x]

The RadioApple Family

Some Alastor x Lucifer fankids

Sal & Zere belongs to me. Both are adults.

Atticus belongs to @/soggywhiskers on INSTA.

[registeredsinnertm]

Dance!

Just a rabbit and a dragon dancing 💛💙

❌Do not repost my pieces!❌ ♻️Shares, Comments, and Likes are much appreciated!♻️

Want to see my art early? Check out my Carrd for early access!!

[stormysquiggle]

did some screenshot edits for fun!

Holter in the overlord meeting in Ep3 ⚔️

Royce in Carmilla’s office in Ep3 📋

Harlene during “More Than Anything” in Ep5 💞

Harlene at the start of the battle in Ep8 𓆩❆𓆪

[vintagecandy]

So I've been sort of in a rut lately uh-- and when that happens I know I need to stop every bigger project and just draw whatever random thing I most feel like. this is my equivalent of doodling monsters on my math homework but its angels

[sunlit-mess]

Definitely not the favorite

[battlekidx2]

Alastor Episodes 7 and 8 Thoughts

These two episodes really gave us a lot in regards to Alastor and I cannot wait to see where they go with him in season 2. What I find most fascinating about what they established with him in these episodes is how I think this perfectly sets up Alastor to directly challenge the show’s main themes of redemption.

Alastor is the only character in the main cast that I think could effectively challenge Charlie’s idea of redemption by making her face the question of “where the line for who can be redeemed and who is too far gone is?” 

Even Vaggie and her past as an exorcist couldn’t challenge Charlie’s ideals in the same way because Vaggie so clearly wants to be better and is trying to be better. She could only challenge Charlie’s idea of who could be redeemed. She couldn’t truly challenge the line of when someone is too far gone unlike Alastor. 

And to explain this I'll just jump right in.

It’s clear these two episodes were meant to show a shift in Alastor and Charlie’s relationship in some capacity. It’s a bit more of a subtle shift than with the other characters, but I think it’s setting up this future conflict well for the limited time the show has. 

At the start Charlie doesn’t think Alastor cares and calls him out on this. She directly states that she believes he enjoys the suffering. He refutes her idea of him by stating she doesn’t know what he feels. He purposefully hides his feelings behind a smile as a sign of control. (The first shift. It tells her there’s more beneath the surface)

Then Alastor helps Charlie enlist cannibal town and says he wants to mentor her in the song. This is more than the initial indifference and humor he got out of Charlie at the beginning. There’s an interest in seeing Charlie grow and being a part of it that wasn't there before. And, with Alastor helping Charlie here, trust is being built (at least on Charlie's end).

Then Alastor talks to Niffty (who he is clearly fond of) and admits he finds the group enjoyable to be around. He says he could grow accustomed to them after Niffty says she really likes them almost in agreement with her. He's very candid with Niffty and doesn't seem to feel the need to hide his emotions around her. They appear to be on the same wavelength.

And finally, Charlie is upset when she thinks that Alastor died against Adam and hugs him happily when he returns. In Charlie’s eyes Alastor has been helpful and risked himself and his power to protect the hotel. This is a true shift in their relationship on Charlie's end.

This bond is necessary because if (at the very least) Charlie doesn't care about Alastor then he won't be able to truly challenge her idea of redemption and the show implies it doesn't just go one way. It's just obscured.

To explain what I mean I want to look at Alastor's role in the final battle and that moment when he is alone after he escapes.

At the beginning of the battle he felt like the trump card he should have been. He makes the exorcists, before Adam destroys his shield, look like a joke. And he gives Adam a run for his money before he becomes overconfident and lets his guard down. He didn’t expect Adam to bounce back and have that much power left to show. He was caught completely off guard and paid the price. 

And instead of staying to face the end with the rest of the people in the hotel Alastor opts to save himself. He places himself first. When he leaves he seems almost smug, spouting off a one liner and smiling as he sinks into the shadows. It seems calculated and calm, but alone is a completely different story. This moment shakes Alastor and that moment alone puts his fight against Adam and decision to flee in a different light.

In this moment when he's alone he starts to lose it, saying there has to be a way out. This isn’t where things end. He will come out on top. 

He can feel his control over the situation slipping. His power and notoriety has been challenged left and right this season. First Vox, then Lucifer, then the loan sharks, now Adam. It’s one right after the other. And Adam almost killed him.

He’s struggling to grasp onto what little control he has left by forcing himself to keep on his smile and it calls back to the beginning of episode 7 when he says to Charlie that just because she sees a smile doesn't mean she knows how he really feels. His smile is a sign of control. And even in this moment you can see that last bit of control slipping. And it’s left him even more desperate for his freedom than before.

The Radio Demon was introduced almost as if he was an all powerful entity and now he is being brought back down to earth and he’s raging against it, barely keeping it just below the surface. 

But there’s even more to his breakdown than just his pride. The lines “Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends. Sorry to disappoint that is not where this ends. I’m hungry for freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor.” strongly imply that he really does care for the residents of the hotel more than he wants to admit even to himself.

He is freaking out because he got too close to dying trying to protect and help people that he never thought he would care at all about and he’s doubling down on his plans from before. 

His immediate desperation to be free implies he is at the hotel because he is forced to be there, but he’s desperate to get out of the contract because he doesn’t like how it’s changing him. Alastor has always put himself first and here he is almost dying trying to protect this hotel and it's rattled him even more deeply than the blow to his pride.

I feel like they know exactly what Alastor can mean thematically and they want you to know he’s a villain while seeding hints there could be change under the surface (ones that Alastor himself is afraid of and wants to double down against). There’s a balancing act going on with him and it seems they really do want to challenge the idea of redemption with him. Not just Charlie’s, but his own as well.

Alastor is still in my opinion the best written character in the series. There’s just so much to unravel with him and he’s the most fun to try and dissect to me. I can’t wait to see what they have planned for him in season 2.