#antler shreds

[10piecechickennuggy]

Rut - Alastor x Fem!Reader - Oneshot

WARNING: Mature content ahead. MDNI

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hazbin Hotel or the fanart featured above. This is a fan created work.

Word Count: 4,244

***

Clawed fingers tore at crimson silk, black buttons snapping free and clattering to the floor as the dress shirt was ripped open. Beads of sweat soaked into scarlet bangs, plastering the usually fluffy hairs against feverish skin. Ragged breaths rattled a heaving chest as they fanned across parched lips.

When had it gotten so hot? Was the air conditioning in the radio tower not working?

Everything felt too constricting. From his clothes to his own skin, it was as though he couldn’t breathe properly. Alastor growled in frustration as his bowtie was thrown to the floor.

Leaning over a panel of dials and switches, the radio demon raised a hand to his antlers. The velveteen covered bone itched - small shreds of the hair-like skin falling as he scratched desperately. 

The sensation did little to dissuade his discomfort. Nor did removing his monocle or allowing his other hand to dig into the skin of his neck. But even so, he couldn’t stop. 

Thin lines of sanguine trickled from now raw skin, the thick liquid eliciting a cooling sensation in its wake. A loud sigh escaped Alastor at the miniscule relief his spilled blood had brought. But the amnesty was short lived, retreating almost immediately and leaving a psoriasis of mounting intensity in its wake.

Air. He needed air.

Scrambling toward a window, the man almost didn’t notice his antlers crashing into the glass until the impact had caused him to stumble backwards and land on his ass. Rubbing his behind, Alastor stood and paused for a moment. 

Why did that feel good? 

It was as though his antlers were yearning to be rammed against something. The urge tickled and twisted its way down from the top of his head to the tip of his tail - the white and scarlet puff now standing straight up in alert.

Foregoing another headbut into the fenestella, he instead raised the glass gently. A welcome breeze struck against his face, bringing a shiver down the demon’s spine as his burning skin began to cool in the sulfur wind. 

Panting, he allowed his upper body to bend over the windowsill. His torso stretched outward and his head hung limply as he took in the feeling of relief once more. Had he a clearer mind, he’d have cringed at the thought of someone seeing him in such a desperate state.

But the act of leaning out the window brought another sensation. As if the universe itself were seeking to break him, he was struck by an alluring scent. Floral musk assaulted his nostrils, causing the demon’s head to jerk upward in search of its source. And when his gaze traveled down towards the hotel’s entrance, he knew it had been located.

Standing in front of the building was the establishment’s newest resident, Y/n. Her hair was pulled up, exposing the delicate flesh of her neck and shoulders, the sun dress she wore fluttering in the breeze. No doubt the autumn wind was what brought her enticing bouquet aloft, caressing the visible skin and shepherding her aroma to the radio tower above.

Scent was far from her only captivating feature. From her piercing eyes to the enthralling angles of her facial structure. From her beautiful hair down to her adorable toes and every sensual curve in between, the woman was downright breathtaking. A dangerous sentiment, given Alastor’s current state.

Leaning further out the window, his nose lifted as he inhaled deeply, Alastor’s eyes widened in awareness of his lower half now pressed firmly against the wall below. The rigid wooden surface brushed deliciously against his hardened member.

So that was it. It was that time of year again.

Alastor was rarely one to experience such basal urges. The occasions he did were more inconvenient and bothersome than anything, requiring time be taken from his busy schedule to satiate the primal desire. He clicked his tongue in irritation at his body’s betrayal. Crinkling his eyebrows together and exiting the studio, he began to ponder just how best to take care of the pesky dilemma.

***

Several hours later, Alstor had been able to quell the physical effects of his rut enough to emerge from his room. The demon was far from satisfied though, the urge to breed burning at the back of his mind. An incredible amount of willpower was needed to keep himself in check - far more than he would care to admit - or else he’d find himself locked away, stroking his cock raw in desperate search of release again.

After an annoyingly long period of such activities, the deer demon had grown so disgruntled with his own biology that he’d decided to just ignore it. He knew the strategy was flawed - that it could only work for a short while - no matter how many times he came, only allowing himself to truly mate would bring any true relief to his symptoms. But he had to get on with his life. He had duties and obligations that could wait no longer. Perhaps after he completed the day’s tasks, he’d hire a prostitute to satiate his sexual appetite. 

And then kill her, of course. 

He couldn’t let someone walk freely knowing how truly weak his rut made him. The thought of using another sinner and then beating her body into a bloody pulp caused Alastor’s signature smile to broaden. After inflicting as much pain as possible and ensuring she’d perished, he’d consume her flesh. His stomach growled in anticipation.

Whistling an old timey tune, he walked through the streets of Pentagram City. An overlord meeting had just concluded, meaning Alastor was now free to return to the Hazbin Hotel and fulfill his duties as facilities manager.  He just needed to make some quick repairs, meet with Charlie to discuss her continuing rehabilitation curriculum, and he’d be off to the entertainment district.

***

Moss-colored wooden panels now lined yet another wall of the hotel’s lobby. Why did there always seem to be a new hole in the building’s exterior walls? If it wasn’t one of Sir Pentious’ inventions causing another explosion, it was some nuisance of the week who thought they could best the Radio Demon and the Princess of Hell. 

Alastor couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of the latest attack, the pained screams of his victims as he strangled them to death with his shadow tentacles still replaying in his mind. They’d managed to blow a hole in the hotel’s facade, but some quick magic had it fixed in a jiffy. Standing back, Alastor admired his work when a familiar scent caught his attention.

Turning around slowly, he was met with the sight of Y/n descending the hotel’s main staircase. Every step she took was pure elegance, as though she were surrounded by an aura of grace and allure. Her vibrant sundress flowed behind as she walked, its deep V neckline exposing a fair bit of cleavage. Her pheromones permeated Alastor’s senses, working in tandem with her gorgeous appearance to captivate the man. When she’d reached the final step, her gaze lifted to meet with his and her lips curved up to form a dazzling smile.

“Hey, Al.” She waved before advancing toward him.

Alastor’s heart skipped and his cock throbbed. The uncomfortable itching sensation returned, his pulse increasing and his breath growing shallow. He briefly considered excusing himself - running to his room before he lost composure - but decided against it. He couldn’t let something as simple as biology and instinct get the better of him.

“Hello there, darling! How are you this fine afternoon?” The radio static came through especially thick as he spoke, distorting his voice to a near grumble.

A blush overtook the woman, her hands clasping together as she took on a bashful stance. Her current posture had her arms squeezing her breasts, causing the supple flesh to squish together and expose even more of her cleavage than had already been visible. 

“I’m alright. Just headed to the bar.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before continuing. “Care to join me?” Her voice was soft and smooth, akin to satin.

Damn, this woman. He’d already made plans to take care of the issue, and yet here she was enticing him. But the longer he spent in her presence, the more he felt his desire grow. And the harder his cock grew, his body reacting to the female before it.

Forcing himself to remain composed, Alastor gestured for her to lead the way. He followed her silently to the bar, where they both sat before a frowning Husker. 

“Hi there, beautiful.” He turned to nod towards Alastor. “Boss.” The feline bartender bent down, the sound of clinking glass coming from below the bar. “What can I get you, sweetheart?”

Alastor didn’t miss the warm smile Husk offered his companion while only scowling in his general direction when addressing them both. When said female’s eyelashes fluttered and she began to fidget with the hem on her dress, the Radio Demon’s perpetual smile fell just the slightest bit.

“Sex on the beach, please.”

Red wings flapped once as Husker took on a devious smirk. He reached for a bottle of peach schnapps before speaking in a flirtatious tone. “Sorry to disappoint, but the nearest ocean is three rings down. Hopefully the drink is half as satisfying as the man making it.” 

And then the cat winked. He fucking winked. 

Alastor’s blood boiled, the urge to ram his antlers against the insufferable bartender was overwhelming. When she giggled at the other male’s advances, all he could see was red.

The deer demon growled as he stood from his seat, fluffy ears laying flat to his head. Clawed fingers gripped Y/n’s wrist and yanked her away from the bar. A surprised yelp escaped the woman as Alastor dragged her towards the staircase, his anger evident with every stomping footstep.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her words laced with uncertainty. “Where are you taking me?”

He didn’t respond, only continuing to trudge forward as she stumbled behind attempting to keep up with his quick and deliberate strides. As they ventured onward, his other hand rose to dig at his neck, the itching sensation now unbearable as his body’s excitement and irritation intensified. By this point, the man was nearly operating on hormones alone. 

The pair halted at Alastor’s room just long enough for him to open the door before roughly pushing her inside.

“Hey!” Her voice was now raised as she stared down the man before her. “What was that for?!”

Shadow tentacles emerged from the room’s corners and encircled the woman, wrapping around her form with a vice grip. She squealed when the appendages lifted her into the air, her feet dangling above the carpeted floor. Her eyes widened when Alastor advanced toward her, his form appearing to grow larger and his antlers having extended.

When the pair were mere centimeters apart, his steps ceased. Bending forward, his nose brushed the crook of her neck before he inhaled deeply. Her scent was even stronger than before - like a hypnotic miasma the man could feel himself getting drunk on with every wiff.

“Umm, Alastor?” Her voice wavered as she questioned his actions. But she made no attempt to move away.

“Apologies, my dear.” His ever present radio static sunk into her bones, her expression visibly softening when he pulled away to meet her eyes. Oh how he longed to see that face morphed with bliss and pleasure as he ravaged her. “I simply couldn’t stand to watch that pestering feline continue his advances on what is mine.”

Her cheeks were brightly flushed, but she made no effort to deny his statement. Instead, when Alastor lifted a hand to cup her cheek, she leaned into it. “Perhaps you should claim me then.”

The noise he made in response was akin to a crackling purr, his eyelids drooping and pupils dilating in a lustful gaze. Tangling his fingers through her hair, his lips crashed into hers in a devouring kiss. His tongue invaded the wet cavern of my mouth when she moaned against him. She tasted of sweetness and desire, not unlike the musk of her arousal Alastor’s heightened senses allowed him to take note of. She wanted him, and the longer their mouths remained plastered together, the more their carnal need for each other grew.

Once their lips had separated, the shadow tentacles moved her to the waiting bed. Their grip loosened, allowing her limbs to regain blood flow while still holding her firmly in place. Her body rested against the plush comforter beautifully, her hair splayed out in a halo around her face as her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths of anticipation.

Alastor’s smile broadened, sharp teeth exposed and menacing in the room’s dim lighting. She was willing prey before a deadly predator, his perfect doe - compliant and eager. He climbed atop her form, the mattress dipping as he did.

Sharp nails clawed up the female’s sides as he drew into her neck once more, his tongue coming out to lick a long stripe along the supple flesh. Beneath the sodden muscle, he could feel her pulse quicken. The scent of blood flowing beneath her skin enticed the demon, who sunk his claws into her hips - fabric and skin tearing as his knee came up to brush firmly against her clothed cunt. The resulting whimper which fell from her lips was like music to the Radio Demon’s ears.

By this point, his pants had grown uncomfortably tight against his needy erection. Dragging his digits upwards, the sundress was ripped from her form as a shudder rippled through her. 

Long streaks of bloody claw marks ran up her torso, the shallow cuts bringing a new sense of exciting danger to the female. She began to writhe against the shadow appendages which still held her in place, but it was clear she wasn’t looking for escape. Rather, she struggled against her bindings in an attempt to reach out to him - to touch him as he touched her.

He paused to take in the sight of her black lace undergarments, appreciating the delicate fabric and the lewd implication that she’d donned them deliberately. A dark chuckle fell from the man as he hooked a single finger beneath the band of her bra, right at the point where her breasts met and pulled the fabric away from her form. “Tell me, cheri. Did you intend to spend your evening beneath me?”

She didn’t respond, only turning her head to the side and looking away from him. 

“Now, now.” He gripped her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his gaze. His tone was akin to a parent chastising their child. “It’s rude to ignore someone who’s speaking to you. Especially when you’re at their mercy.” The ripping of fabric punctuated his statement as her bra was shredded, her breasts bouncing free with nipples hardening in the cool air.

“I could tell you were suffering, what with the time of year and all.”  Her voice came as a whisper, as if she were afraid of admitting to her knowledge of his rut.

Alastor sighed, his knee moving to bring some much needed friction to her clothed core. His trousers grew damp where he rubbed, her arousal soaking into the fabric. “What a foolish little doe you are, cheri.” Sitting upward, his pinstripe tailcoat was removed and tossed aside. His eyes took on a darker hue as he began to release his tie. “I am going to enjoy devouring you.”

The moment he’d finished the statement, the shadow tentacles pulled her limbs apart - spreading her wide for him. Removing his shirt and then her panties, he trailed a finger along the scarlet stripes on her side. Sticky blood gathered on his digit, which was quickly brought to waiting lips. Wrapping his tongue around the extremity, he hummed in approval. 

“Delicious.” 

An audible gulp came from the female as she watched the man before her with lidded eyes, her pupils blown wide. Two of the tentacles slithered up her form, encircling her breasts with a tight squeeze. A deep moan erupted from her throat as the shadow appendages began to move, squishing and manipulating the tender flesh whilst the tips toyed with her perked nipples in unison. Her breath came in pants, fists clenching and releasing as she allowed the pleasure to wash over her. 

The welcome ministrations happening at her tits had distracted the woman, who failed to notice Alastor moving downwards. She missed the sensation of his hands massaging their way from her torso to her thighs, nor did she notice when the man positioned his upper body between her legs. Only when she felt his tongue slide through her folds did she let out a surprised gasp. Looking down, she finally took note of the head of crimson hair buried between her limbs.

Alastor’s ears were laid flat as his mouth worked on her, lapping at the slick of her heat. His lips engulfed her pussy in a passionate kiss to her lower lips, tongue darting inside as his nose brushed her clit. His sharp nails dug into the skin of her thighs when her hips began to buck, holding her still against his face as he continued to eat her out.

He consumed her like a man starved, savoring the flavor of her arousal. Lewd slurping sounds filled the air as he continued to lick and suck at her center, eliciting moans with every breath the female took. Moving upwards, his lips came to rest around her bundle of nerves whilst two long fingers entered her now soaking hole. The digits moved in a scissoring fashion as he pumped them within her, his mouth providing suction to her clit.

It wasn’t long before she unraveled on his fingers, a sharp whine shuddering from her body as her walls convulsed. Alastor continued his actions, working her through her orgasm until finally she settled. Withdrawing from her, his lips and chin shone with the moisture of her arousal.

When the tentacles holding her in place withdrew, the woman looked surprised. She sat up, attempting to catch her breath as she looked at the bulge in her companion’s pants.

“On all fours, darling.” The order sent a shiver down her spine. 

She complied in silence, turning around to present herself to him. Her juices dripped down her thighs, pussy clenching around nothing as she waited to be taken.

The clinking of metal was the only sound as his belt slipped free of the loops on his trousers, before said garment was unzipped and allowed to crumple on the floor. Finally, his cock sprang free as his bottoms and underwear were kicked aside. The angrily flushed tip weeped beads of precum as he stroked it lazily. 

Climbing atop the bed once more, Alastor settled behind his mate and brought his member to her entrance. Sinking into her slowly, they vocalized in unison. A guttural growl came from deep within the buck’s chest as he bottomed out within her. Laying himself flat against her back, he took her dangling tits into both hands and gripped them as he stilled.

He wanted to savor this feeling - to commit to memory the sensation of her silken walls surrounding his impossibly hard cock. She squeezed him deliciously tight, already milking him before the true fucking had even begun. 

Gently kissing her shoulder, Alastor began to move. His thrusts came slow at first, his dick dragging against her at an agonizing pace as he withdrew until only the tip remained inside before reentering just as gradually. This repeated several times until the woman let out a noise of frustration, her hips jerking backwards in an attempt to increase the pace.

At her sudden movement, Alastor gasped. He hadn’t expected her to try and take charge - especially with him mounting her from behind. He was the male here. Perhaps he needed to remind her of their places in this sensuous act.

Quickly, a clawed hand removed itself from her breast and came to the back of her head before pushing. Her face landed sideways against a pillow, her eyes wide as she looked back at him. 

“Impatient, are we?” The demon’s voice held a malicious edge, his eyes glinting with dark excitement. “Allow me to ruin you then.”

He left no opportunity for her to respond before he began thrusting into her once more, fucking her in earnest. His hips pistoned against her, the squelching of fluids mingled with slapping of skin each time his dick was plowed into her dripping heat. He held her head firmly against the pillow, his other hand ripping flesh at her hip to keep her still. A cry of pained pleasure came from the woman as she took his brutal assault.

Continuing to pummel his doe, Alastor picked her up so they were both upright on their knees. Her legs spread around his as she sat back onto his lap. A hand encircled her throat, choking her sobs as tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. His hips incessantly slapped her ass with each repeated thrust.

Bringing his other hand from her hip, the bloodied palm drug against her chest before his claws pierced her skin once more. Ripping down her front, she screamed in a high-pitched whine that vibrated his hand on her neck. Sanguine rivers now flowed freely, staining the fabric below.

The scent of her spilled blood was now too much to bear. Continuing his brutal pace, the Radio Demon brought his mouth to the conjunction of her shoulder and nape. He needed to taste her again - to feel the thickness of her blood against his tongue. And so he bit down, his dagger sharp teeth sinking into feverish skin. Salt was the first thing he tasted as her sweat mixed with his saliva before a metallic taste bloomed within his hungry maw.

“A-Alastor!” She screamed, one of her hands quickly tangling into his locks. Her other palm slapped against his upper leg, supporting her unsteady weight. Her eyes closed as she hissed from the pain. But oh, did it hurt so good.

Drinking greedily, he began to choke her in earnest. He couldn’t have the other hotel residents overhearing. The hand in his hair moved to grip one of his antlers, its twin now clawing at the fingers cutting off her air supply. 

When her feeble offense against his vice grip began to lesson and the  hold on his bony outcropping waned, Alastor knew she was close to passing out. He could also tell she was close to her second orgasm, the increasing force with which her pussy clamped around him signaling imminent release. And so, he withdrew himself from her and released his chokehold. The wine that accompanied her gasps for air was almost heartwrenching.

Tears now freely fell down her reddened cheeks as she struggled to hold herself up on both arms. She was shaking, her expression one of hurt and expectancy as she turned to face him.

In an instant, he was on her again. This time, she lay on her back while he held her legs in a folded position with her knees against her chest. Not hesitating for even a moment, he sunk back into her and resumed fucking her with an unrelenting force.

Snarling into her face, his brows furrowed in aggression as he spoke. “I say when you can cum.”

“Y-yes, sir!” She hadn’t missed a beat with her response. Grasping his antlers with both hands, she held on tightly as he continued to take her.

“Good girl.” One of his hands slotted itself into the space where they connected, softly circling her clitorus.

He knew he was close to his own end. After just a few more thrusts, his cock began to twitch within her. Kisses were trailed from her lips down her jaw and to her collar, all the while grunts that crackled with static filled the space between them. Beads of sweat dripped from Alastor’s forehead as he sucked bruising hickies across her skin.

With each mark left in his wake, she whined like a bitch in heat. His body responded to her cries, eager to spill his seed and breed her. 

With the combination of his delicate ministrations against her clit, the pain of his claws and bites, and the pleasure of his dick battering into her, she had become a babbling mess. Single syllables and nonsense words flew from her mouth between pants and moans.

Licking the trails of blood along her chest, he mumbled against the fat of her breast. “Cum with me, Y/n.”

Two more thrusts into her needy cunt and they were both done for. Powerful spurts of cum painted her collapsing walls, coating her insides with his seed. He held onto her tightly, his pelvis pressed firmly against hers as he released deeply into her womanhood with a shouting moan. Wave after wave of blinding pleasure washed over them both as they rode out their highs.

 Collapsing atop her with one last spurt of his cock, Alastor sighed in contentment. Panting heavily and burying his face into her neck, they both began to come down into a glorious afterglow. 

“Feeling better?” Her arms were wrapped around his torso in a warm, loving embrace as her fingers traced mindless swirls across the expanse of his back. 

“Much better, my dear.”

[kiame-sama]

Drag Me To Hell- (Yandere!Alastor x Chubby!Fem!reader) pt 2.

Warnings; same warnings apply from Hazbin Hotel as to here, but if you know Hazbin, you're already prepared for what's coming, spoilers for episode 1 of Hazbin, a bit more "background" for reader, fem pronouned reader,

~~~~~~~~

"I swear, if you film me goin' at it with mister fancy-talk creepy voice here, you'd be rollin' in participants willin' to stay at this tacky hotel."

"Haha, never going to happen."

You glanced over from where you sat at Husker's bar, seeing Angel Dust make a few gestures to Alastor. The Radio Demon in question had a sneer on his face disguised as a wide grin, almost seeming annoyed with the consistent light flirting from Angel.

Angel would never have him.

Alastor- as you knew him- was not an overly sexual being, and anything that did come over him was fleeting if even substantial enough to act on. Besides, he was not one to expose himself to just anyone. It took decades for Alastor to come to you, and you were by his side more often than anyone else in his demonic life. You suspected part of why he was even willing to approach you about the matter was because you were already the equivalent of a lady in waiting to him.

His living diary. His secretary. His studio assistant. His bed-fellow. His ensnared soul bound eternally to be loyal to him alone. His favorite soul in the entire collection.

You weren't his strongest- if anything, you were his weakest- but you were his favorite.

"Hey," Angel started, "I have a question, if freaky-face over there is so powerful, then why can't he just make people stay here?"

"Oh, trust me," the light around Alastor faded and his antlers slightly grew, "I can!"

It was then Husker spoke up, a bottle in hand and a frown on his face.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

The hell-cat bartender was a familiar face to you. He was yet another soul in Alastor's repertoire and his contract was one that made you pity the gruff demon. You were there when it was struck after-all, not that Husker knew that.

Alastor didn't like going places without you, so he would often contain you inside of his microphone cane. In a sense, you were the spirit possessing his microphone. Where it went, so did you, meaning you were always by Alastor's side. Of course, you could be separate from it, he just didn't usually want you to be. An eternal summon bound by the shred of demonic power you had to your name.

"You actually think I'd be cleaning bottles and listening to you fucks bitch and moan all the time if he wasn't forcin' me?"

"I like being forced."

"Keep that to yourself, Niff."

The sudden interjection from Nifty actually made you laugh, knowing the twisted inner workings of another of Alastor's 'summons'. Nifty was more like you than Husker, far more intertwined to Alastor and his whims than others. Nifty was more of a pet to Alastor- not that you were any better- and she kept things tidied to Alastor's standards.

"Never change, Nifty."

She smiled at you and Husker rolled his eyes, wiping down the same bottle once again. Husker was damn good at being a bartender and listening, even if he bitched about it while it happened. Between the three of you, you all were used to Alastor and his general behavior in most situations. As Alastor's confidant and microphone, you knew him better than anyone else and even then there were things you didn't know about him.

"Darling, can we talk a moment?"

The words sent anxiety down your spine, but you were quick to answer the non-optional summons. Walking up to his side he lazily wrapped an arm around you, leading you away from the group.

"Yes, Alastor?"

"Ah-ah, what did we talk about?"

"Sorry... Yes... Dear?"

"Hm, I never get tired of hearing that. I just wanted you away from them for a bit, that's all~"

Part of you wondered if Alastor was being serious or not, but decided that he had done far deadlier things to other demons for far less than vaguely annoying him by existing. If anything, his new interest in 'pet-names' was a recent development that likely had to do with his growing jealousy. You had been with Alastor on his seven-year 'sabbatical' and now you both were among others like this. It was clear to you that he was finding himself a bit more possessive of you.

"Just happy to have you here, and trust me, I'll make sure you never leave."

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Laormoch, Archfey of the Wild Unknown

Embodying the primal awe and terror of those places beyond the edge of the map, this ancient spirit of the land exists to test and torment those who stray too far from the safety of the familiar.

Though the old stories call him the" thane of the faroff" or an "invisible giant as big as the sky", it is hard to put Laormoch's physicality and the fear it evokes into words: How do you describe being lorded over by ancient trees, or the scornful glare of unfamiliar stars? His shape is only ever suggested by how it bends the natural world, but he is always distant, though always so immense that it feels like he may reach out and crush the viewer.

Adventure Hooks

The party stumble into a village to find its inhabitants struggling to recover after a disastrous hunt. Some wretched beast tore through some weeks ago and was only dispatched with great effort. It was a cause for celebration, at least until the thing was seen stalking in the woods, reading for another attack. To prevent it from assailing their walls and destroying their homes the village's best hunter leads the village's strongest on a sortie, downing the beast only after injuring many and losing a few. This has happened three times so far and the village's defenders are wearing thin. Perhaps the party could lend their aid once the beast is spotted again, and perhaps spend the intervening time trying to find its obviously supernatural origins.

Almost inconsolable, a great lord calls for the party's aid in rescuing his son and heir, who he claims was stolen by the sky itself: snatched out of his tower window by a great hand and carried off into the clouds. The servants and courtiers are skeptical, everyone knows the lord was so protective of his son he barely let the boy leave his rooms, let alone the castle, and it's likely the lad finally managed some means of escape. While they're considering exactly how to search for the lad the party will be approached by the Lord's bastard daughter, she was denied her inheritance by her father's traditionalism, and sees the opportunity to have herself recognized if the true born heir is never found. She'll ask that even if the party does find her younger brother, they either help him escape or leave him where he is, as it would be better for the both of him if he doesn't return to the castle.

Backstory:

Seeking to prove herself against a boastful rival, a hunter ventured far from her village into the deep wilderness, where she found and slew an elk of ethereal beauty, eating its flesh to sustain herself and taking its antlers as her trophy. Though she returned in glory, the beast had been marked by the Thane of the Faroff, who has raised its butchered body as a reverent and gifted it bloodthirsting branches to replace what was taken. The revenant won't stop until it's killed the hunter and torn her body to shreds, which will likely be sometime after she's gotten a good portion of the other villagers killed because she's too good at hunting and too stuborn to die without a fight. The revenant has more than one trick though, the branches animating its body bear seedpods which it scatters as it dies or gores others to death. These seeds eventually grow into twigblights, which are slowly massing in the forest waiting to overwhelm the village's defenders and open the gate for the revenant's final rampage.

Wishing more than anything to get away from the suffocating confines of his home, the young heir has found himself on the wrong end of a fairy bargin. Whisked off by Laormoch to his castle beyond the horizon, the boy has been forced to serve as the archfey's cupbearer as repayment for his captor's "kindness". The party will need to dig deep into the local folklore to figure out how and why the sky might snatch up a forlorn youth, potentially missing him entirely until they run into him while visiting the feywild for a completely different adventure.

Artsource

[mousy-nona]

Prompt. Alastor hits deer mating season and tries not to let anyone know, but Lucifer finds out.

Obligatory warning: It's a mating prompt. There's going to be EXPLICIT SCENES.

“Do you smell that?” 

Husk sniffed the air delicately, then shook his head. “Nothing but Angel Dust’s normal B.O.”

Angel Dust purred. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.” 

The cat rolled his eyes and turned back towards the bar, but not before Lucifer caught the rare smile he reserved for Angel Dust curving on the corners of his lips. 

“Do you seriously not smell that?” Lucifer asked, puzzled. The scent was growing stronger by the second, so rich and heavy it seemed to hang in the air. Musky, woody, with a spicy sharpness to it, like crushed pine needles and orange blossoms. There was something else to it though – something that Lucifer couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it filled his head like an opium cloud. His thoughts felt slow, like molasses in winter. 

His body was a different story. Every time he breathed in, a tingle of electricity ran through him. His fingers were trembling, and his skin felt too tight and a little numb at the same time. 

Am I being drugged?

He was just about to excuse himself when Alastor came rushing around the corner. He was moving fast, as if he was being chased by a pack of wolves, and muttering something to himself like a lunatic. He didn’t see Lucifer until it was too late, and they collided into each other so hard the impact sent them both tumbling to the ground. 

“Ouch! Clean up on aisle four!” Angel Dust crowed. 

“Shut up.” Alastor’s voice was distorted, as if it had been spliced into four. He sounded strained, his throat clenched. 

The scent was unbelievably strong now. Lucifer’s head swam with it. On autopilot, he picked himself up off the ground and extended a hand towards Alastor to help him up. Alastor moved to swat it away, but the second their hands touched, it was like a sonic blast ripped through the hotel. Lucifer’s world went numb, flexed and narrowed in on one thing, and one thing only: Alastor. A bolt of lightning ran up his arm, through his chest, down his legs, and pooled underneath his belt. His legs went weak with need. 

Alastor, for his part, didn’t seem much better off. His eyes were wide with disbelief, his chest heaving as his breathing stuttered. He was staring at Lucifer as if he was a ghost. 

And then something shifted. His eyes went blank, and Alastor – the Alastor Lucifer knew, at least – flickered out of view as something else, something infinitely hungrier and far more desperate, took over. 

Alastor snarled and leapt forward, grabbing Lucifer by the neck. People were shouting something behind them, but Lucifer couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them over the thick fog of musk and wood rolling off of Alastor. 

Shadows swallowed them whole, and spat them back out in a dark bayou, lit only by the weak light of the stars and the moon twinkling high above.

“Where–?”

But Alastor wasn’t listening. His sharp claws ripped Lucifer’s shirt and coat into shreds in a matter of seconds, his red eyes gleaming with a hazy madness. 

Lucifer forced himself to shake off some of that beguiling smell. It was telling him to relax, to give in. It urged him to thread his hands through Alastor’s gorgeous hair, to stroke his antlers, to finally admit to his deepest, most shameful desire – that he had always wondered what Alastor might taste like.

But he still didn’t know what the hell was going on. 

“What – Alastor, wait – slow down!” He pushed Alastor back with a blast of angelic grace. Alastor hissed, his eyes still crazed with need, and came for him again. This time, Lucifer grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him into a nearby spring. 

Alastor spluttered as he surfaced, shaking some of the water off his head. “What the hell was that for?” His voice was still distorted, but at least he was using his words again. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Lucifer demanded. 

Alastor pulled himself out of the spring and flung his drenched coat off with a bitter grumble, revealing his bare forearms and – to Lucifer’s endless delight – a little tuft of a tail. In the gentle light of the moon, Lucifer could see every ripple of his toned abs, every flex of his broad chest beneath the wet shirt that clung to him like a second skin.

The hazy smell grew stronger. Breathe through it. Don’t lose control. “What did you say?”

“It's my mating season,” Alastor snarled, meeting his eyes again. There was something hypnotic in their scarlet gleam. Lucifer found himself taking a step forward before he caught himself. “Every couple of years, my pheromones go into overdrive. I – no, my body – sends out signals to any potential mates. I usually wait it out.” He shuddered, his jaw flexing. “It’s never found anyone before.” 

A sizzle of pride and pure, clean joy cut through the haze filling Lucifer’s brain. So Alastor had never done this with anyone before? 

(Was he special?)

“So what are you saying – that you’re horny?” 

Alastor blurred – and suddenly he was in front of him, ripping the rest of Lucifer’s tattered shirt from his body. He yelped, but Alastor ignored him. 

“If that’s how you want to think about it,” he growled, then he dug his teeth into the crook of Lucifer’s neck. 

A jolt of intense pain that turned into searing pleasure roared through Lucifer. As if in a trance, he grabbed one of Alastor’s antlers and wound his other hand into the softness of his hair. Then he pulled, hard, forcing Alastor to let go with an audible hiss. 

“None of that,” he snapped.

Alastor grinned, and it was sharp enough to cut him to the core. “No need to play coy with me, your Majesty. The thing about these pheromones – they work both ways. And they never work on the unwilling.” 

The quick flash of heat (shameshameshame) was invitation enough for Alastor to pounce again. He rid Lucifer of his belt and his pants just as quickly as he did his shirt. Lucifer, not to be outdone, showed Alastor he had a pair of claws on his own and slashed Alastor’s entire outfit in half with one slice of his nail. It wasn’t a clean cut – a thin line of red welled up on Alastor’s chest, his stomach, and his right thigh. 

Lucifer was about to apologize, but the words died in his throat when Alastor dipped his finger into his own blood and sucked it clean.

“Want to try?” He asked in his trademark sing-song. 

Lucifer surged forward. Their mouths met in a clash of teeth and tongue, and Lucifer felt himself go even harder at the dark taste of spice and sin on his lips. 

“You drive me crazy,” he whispered when they broke apart. 

“My dear, I am crazy,” Alastor chuckled. “What did you expect?” 

Then Lucifer grazed his upper thigh, perilously close to his dick, and Alastor cut himself off with a gasp. That strange need clouded his eyes, and once again, Alastor’s primal self took over. He roared, pushing Lucifer onto the ground, their bare legs tangling as he pushed his hand between their legs. 

The haze swirled, that sweet, opium smell wiping out the rest of Lucifer’s good sense as Alastor gripped his naked cock with his claws. He groaned, lifting his hips obligingly towards the deer to give him a better angle. That groan turned into a cry when he felt Alastor smearing his own precum on the head of his dick and pushing it against his entrance. 

More, his heart thudded. More. More. 

He must have been saying it out loud without realizing it, because Alastor grinned. “As you wish.” 

Then he pushed in. Lucifer screamed as he felt Alastor’s hardness invading him, penetrating him, stretching him to the limit. But with it, he felt the bond between them swell, take on a new shape. The hatred was still there, yes, but there was something else now too. 

And through it all, the same sentence kept running over and over in his fevered brain: Alastor’s never taken another mate.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, his back arching as he let loose a low moan. His body was shaking, and his hips were moving as if he was a man possessed. That smell was thick in the air, drugging them both as the pleasure washed over them, coming faster and faster until finally –

The explosion that ripped through Lucifer was like nothing he had ever felt before. He had been there for the birth of the cosmos, for the first steps of mankind, for everything that had come before and that would come after. He had thought he had experienced all the firsts in the world. 

But this…

He clutched Alastor, who was still trembling from the force of the release. Unlike Lucifer, who was basking in the afterglow, he looked…unsure of himself. Now that the pressing drive of the mating call had disappeared, he looked lost, as if he’d been dumped in the middle of a strange land with no map and no compass. 

“Don’t go,” Lucifer whispered, eyeing the strange shadows that were bubbling by his feet. “Stay here with me.”

Alastor wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Lucifer didn’t make him. But he did hold his hand. 

“We can work it out together. Just stay.”

Alastor didn’t say anything. But the shadows disappeared, and the two of them sat in the stillness and the quiet of the bayou.

He didn’t let go of his hand.

[baddywronglegs]

In 2009, Gävlebocken was first covered by 24-hour surveillance cameras. In one of the most devoted episodes in making its existence brief and warm, these cameras were taken down with a denial of service attack whilst arsonists struck.

2023 is the year of nature.

This is the live camera feed from Gävle right now. As I type, the last pixels of the bones of its antlers, picked bare by jackdaws already, diseppear into the rising noise.

This isn't a technical glitch or malicious attack, it's snow.

I'm not saying the goat's whole carcass is going to be pecked clean by corvids under cover of what I have been told off for calling weather already. But I am saying that if the snow recedes to reveal nothing but the metal bones and shreds of jolly red wrapping hanging like a shroud in the wind, I will give the birds full credit.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 1400+

Warnings: mentions of blood, depression, description of wound

In books there's no mention of Tamlin being able to winnow, but for the sake of story, let's pretend he can, okay?😉

Part II

You lived in a small cottage deep in the woods of Spring Court, far away from other fae. It wasn't like you hated them, they hated you. Most of the creatures living in this area avoided you, believing you had quite great powers and vicious nature, cursing anybody who crossed your way.

The rumours couldn't be further from the truth, but it didn't bother you what they said about you. You loved silence, enjoying every second of your lonely life in the heart of the nature.

You had several friends that used to stop by from time to time and brought you news, so you heard about everything that happened to your High Lord. You heard rumours about him going crazy, spending his days devastating his land in a form of horrific monster. You heard that fae ran away from this doomed Court. Last of your friends came to bid you farewell just few days ago trying to convince you to run away too. But why should you?

You lived alone, not caring about the outside world. You didn't care about what's happening out there, you didn't care about your High Lord nor the upcoming war. It had no meaning in your life. Feelings like hate, fear or love were just words with no particular meaning. And so the time passed slowly.

Fresh morning air brought smell of rain through the open window. Last night rained and the sound of raindrops on the roof of cottage lulled you to sleep. With bright smile you got up, changed and cleaned your room. Today it should be a nice sunny day. The intoxicating scent of flowers beckoned you out. Quickly you ran through your herb stocks and made a list of missing ones. You took small basket and went out to collect what you needed. Birds sang above your head as you bent down to tear off some chamomile flowers.

A roar thundered through the forest, making all birds fling away. You looked around with caution. Another roar shook the trees. And another. Now you knew where it was coming from. Quickly, but quietly you ran in that direction. It's in your nature to help to those who needed it. And this with no doubt sounded like somebody needed your help.

You ran up a hill ending in a cliff. And there down in a narrow valley on the other bank of small stream was lying the biggest beast you'd ever seen. Body of bear, head of wolf with antlers, his eyes were clenched in pain. On his side you could see deep wound, blood flowed in thin rivulets into the water. You didn't waste a second, climbed down and ran to its side. As you got closer, the beast opened its eyes and looked at you with a growl, showing off rows of sharp fangs. You halted and held up your hands.

"It's okay. You see? I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you. Will you let me take a look?" you spoke to the beast in a soothing voice as you slowly step by step got closer. The beast growled again, but it put its head back on the ground. Green eyes never left yours, watching you with caution. Slowly you bent down. "Can I?" you gestured to the wound. It took few heartbeats, but the beast nodded slightly.

You knelt down between enormous paws, trying to ignore the dagger-like claws that could turn you into shreds of flesh in less than minute and examined the wound. It was so deep you could see its bones and even though it'd already begun to heal, it had to be treated. You bit down your lower lip. You needed to get the beast to your cottage, but it's too big and couldn't walk on its own in this state.

"It's quite deep. I need bandages and salve, but I don't have it all with me now. I'd need to go home. You are too big and heavy, so I can't take you with me.." you started to explain.

"Where?" a male's voice rasped.

"What?" you questioned, not sure if you really heard it.

The beast blinked. "Where?"the voice repeated with great effort. You lips parted in surprise.

"Well.. My cottage is about a kilometer to the north east from here."

"'Know the place," it breathed out. "Hold on to me."

You weren't so stupid to think, it's a real speaking beast. If nothing else, its eyes gave you enough hint. Of course, it's a high fae, a shape-shifter. And it seemed he could even winnow, so you did as he told you and took his paw with both of your hands. In a blink of an eye you were back in your cottage. Your head spun after the winnow, but you ignored it. Quickly you brought everything you could need and started to work on him. After few minutes the wound was bandaged and bleeding had stopped as well.

"I'm done," you announced. "It will take some time to completely heal. You can stay here until you will be able to move again." You wiped your hands clean while the beast just was laying, eyes narrowed, lost in his thoughts. He didn't seem to be in pain anymore. "Would you like something to drink?" you asked him gently, peeking on him.

His eyes concentrated on you once again, roaming around your face and then down your body. There was so much sadness in them. He just shook his head. "So I will let you take some rest," you nodded. "If you change your mind or it hurts you, tell me." The beast snorted and his eyes once again stared into the distance, returning to whatever he was thinking about before.

Several days passed since you found the wounded beast and brought him to your cottage. He didn't want to eat nor drink and that made you worry. He didn't speak, answering you only with small nods, his gaze was unfocused. He just lay on the floor where he winnowed to, like a lifeless object, stuffed animal. Even his wound was closing slower than it should.

You believed that everything had its time. If he wanted to talk about what bothered him, he would already say something. It wasn't your place to stick your nose into other's troubles. But still you were worried about him. You even heard him cry in his sleep last night.

Every day you checked on his wound, applied the salve and wrapped it into clean bandages and today wasn't different. Before, you let him be after tending the wound, but not today. He needed help and you were more than ready to offer your help even though he didn't ask for it.

You made him tea and set the bowl in front of him. It would be easier if he turned back into his normal form, but it couldn't be helped. Maybe he was too weak to do so. You sat down next to him and in silence ran your fingers through the fur on his shoulder. He sighed and closed eyes. You didn't talk, just continued to stroke his shoulder. After few minutes he dipped his tongue in the bowl and drank a bit. His sad green eyes turned to you, watching you carefully.

"You don't have to do this," he rasped.

"I know," you answered gently. He huffed. His eyes roamed around the room as if it was the first time he noticed.

"For vicious witch, you live quite peacefully. Silently I'd say." Now it's time for you to huff.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"Everyone runs from this doomed Court. Why don't you do so too? Aren't you scared of High Lord?" His voice sounded so empty, without any feelings.

"I don't care about what's happening out there," you answered evasively.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Did you hear about his fiancée and the best friend? They ran away from him too. He certainly must be a monster." He watched you out of the corner of his eye.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I've never met him. I would prefer to make my own opinion on him."

"I see," he drank some more of the tea and then stayed silent. His eyes were again sad and unfocused and you didn't press him more. However you continued to caress his fur without thinking. Soon enough his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

He slept for the rest of the day. You checked on him before going to the bed, but he was still fast asleep curled up into a ball. That night he seemed to rest peacefully without any haunting dreams.

In the morning when you came down, he was gone.

[dragonsxbutterflies]

I hope you enjoy this story.

Night of the Wendigos

You decided to camp out in the woods after having a photoshoot. That night you wake up and leave your tent, stepping into the darkness as only the light of the moon, splintered through the tree tops glitters on the loose leaves under your feet. You stepped away to use the bathroom and cleaned yourself up before turning back to your site.

Your body freezes as your heart stops mid beat. A shrill cry echoes in the night that cuddles your blood. This cry is unfamiliar to you and the uncertainty of the being behind its origin sends a terrifying shiver up your spine. You quickly head back to the camp, lit solely by your one lamp, dimmed light bleeding through the tent and casting the site in a soft glow.

As you walk forward, you stop again as your feet become planted, your body unwilling to move. Your eyes widen in shock as Two red dots pierce the night from the other side of the tent, slowly pulsing up and down. The shrill cry echoes through the night again, but this time louder. Hearing the terrifying sound come from where the two dots are pulsing in the trees.

You regain control of your body as you turn and run, leaves cracking and crunching beneath your steps. You ignore the pain as twigs and stones bite at the soles of your feet. Your body bounces between thicker clumps of trees, the bark tearing at your sleeping gown. You continue rushing through the forest and against your better judgement, turn behind hoping to find yourself alone again.

Leaves turn to dust and are flung into the air as trees are torn into flying shards of debris. The red dots now show as eyes on a mighty and wild figure bounding through the woods behind you. You scream in terror and turn back ahead of you, only to have your foot trip on a lifted root of one of the trees.

You stumble and fall to the ground. Picking yourself up, the figure has now over taken you as its nimble body slides to a stop in the leaves. The creature turns to you as a clearing in the tree tops shines the moon down and illuminates your pursuer.

A long and slender humanoid figure slumps over on all fours with gnarled twisted limbs. An exposed skull sits as the creature's head, long strands of drool dripping down from an agape mouth. Antlers protrude from the top of the skull much like that of deer or elk.

You quickly scuttle against a large boulder and press your back to it, your heart racing as terror runs through your veins. The creature slowly steps toward you on all fours. It rises up and towers over you as one long arm reaches out and grips at a branch. You stare the creature down, terrified and in shock, but also in awe.

The creature's long frame towers over you and leaves you in its shadow against the moonlight. It looks so strong, so powerful as its fingers slowly dig deeper into the creaking branch it holds. Your body jumps, your eyes close and you turn your head away as its mouth opens wide and screams at you again. You sit there terrified and yet, your pussy drips softly at a fleeting thought of this towering powerful creature in front of you.

The creature lunges forward with an open mouth, eager to bite at its prey before it stops suddenly. You hear it sniff loudly as it takes in the air quick and fast through the open slits in its skull. It leans in closer and sniffs your hair, your neck, moving its way down your body before it lingers between your thighs.

Its deep gaze and focus on your lower body plays with your mind and makes you involuntarily drip more. Its long bony fingers hook through your clothes and tear them from your body, scattering into small bits of shredded fabric as you now lay naked against the rock. You get embarrassed and terrified, forcing you to close your legs tight and curl yourself into a tight ball.

The creature screams at you again instantly and your body acts without thinking. Your legs open and you present yourself to it, looking up as its shaggy dark fur hangs down below it. It looks up away from you and jumps back, circling softly then glaring over your head.

Another loud, shrill cry is heard and your eyes grow wide again. You slowly look up and see the form of another, larger version of the creature standing on the boulder over you and staring hard at the other. It quickly turns its gaze to you and begins to slowly crawl down from the rock and sniff your body.

You wince but do not hide yourself as you did with the smaller one, fearful this one will be more violent with you if you upset it. Your eyes slowly open and you gaze beneath the creature, seeing a large thick protrusion growing from the creature's body. Long and pink, the knotted base of the creature reaches a full size as desires of instinctual carnal satisfaction drips from its tip. You can't help yourself but lick your lips as you see this displayed before you.

Your body reacts to the sight and signals the beast to begin its assault. It tears you away from the rock and pins you down, it's long hands holding down your arms as it positions itself at your hole. Fear racks your mind and you shake your head no, fighting in futile effort against the creatures might. Before you know it, the creature has forced his way inside of you.

Back and forth it begins pumping itself in a wild desperate act, forcing its wild cock deeper into you with every thrust. You say to yourself no, no, you don't want this. But your body acts without your consent, getting wetter and looser as it forms to the creature's shape.

You continue to chant denials of no and stop as pleasure fills your body. You feel more and more in bliss as it continues its assault. The other creature steps toward you and the larger one stops thrusting, shifting its body and snaps at the other and forcing it to step back.

It returns to its wild assault on your body as your words have gone silent, your mind blanking and the ecstasy your body is building takes hold of your mind. Soon you find yourself unable to say anything other than yes and please more. It swells inside you as you feel it lock its cock in place within you before pouring its seed deep in your womb.

It stops its thrusting and holds itself inside you for a minute before its cock pops out of you and your mixed ecstasy drips from your hole. It turns to the smaller one and huffs before walking away, back into the dark of the woods.

The other creature walks up and sniffs you before you feel a wide wet tongue run the length of your slit. The sudden stimulation pushes you over the edge of another orgasm and you squirt onto the creature's tongue. Your taste instantly throws the creature into a maddened frenzy of lust and desperation as it too begins to use your body and force you into a repeated cycle of use and breeding.

Oh my god thank you, I enjoyed this alot!!

Makes me wish I had a monster dildo to fuck myself with. Feeling my tight holes stretch to accommodate the length and thickness..

I think I need to go on a camping trip and hope this happens to me 🙈

[renthony]

Reading a French children's book about the Gaulish peoples is really fascinating, because American Wicca-flavored neopaganism has painted a very specific picture of what Cernunnos looks like: younger, antlered, absolutely shredded, often a satyr for some reason, very generic "Great Father God" vibes.

And meanwhile in the French kids' book about the actual Gaulish tribes ("Les Gaulois," published by Quelle Histoire), he looks like this, which I find refreshing:

[ID: a photo of a page from a French children's history book, showing an illustration of Cernunnos. He is depicted as a middle-aged bearded man with brown hair and white skin, wearing robes and a helmet with antlers. He carries a walking stick. French text beneath the illustration reads, "Cernunnos. Le dieu cornu, aux bois de cerf, divinité de la richesse et de la fécondité." End ID.]

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

CW: Blood. Less a content warning and more a note: Lucifer is one very depressed cookie and it shows.

oOo

Lucifer closed the portal behind them after making certain Alastor was clear. It had been a bit melodramatic, leaving by portal, he knew. He simply couldn't imagine attempting to leave any other way and risk screwing up the impression he'd just made.

He could be serious. He could do the whole scary bit. He just didn't like to do it for long.

He released Alastor's hand, tucking both his demons and angelic features alike away until he was his normal, unassuming self. Away from the studio and everyone's prying eyes, with the broadcast finally done and over, he felt like he could relax and breathe again.

Speaking of the redhead, Lucifer figured there was some unfinished business to take care of between them. Not to mention, he really did want to check in with him after that little power stunt. He was just thinking of doing so, when he felt a presence at his back.

Reflexes already on high alert from the stress of the studio, Lucifer spun around. He had enough time to recognize a red and white pinstriped coat, before he was being crowded backwards, red tipped claws going for his throat. It was only because he registered it was only Alastor-

('Only Alastor,' a slightly hysterical part of his brain jitters. When did he become so used to Alastor at his back that he stopped seeing as a threat?)

-that he didn't protest beyond an annoyed and startled, "Alastor, what are you doing??"

Alastor didn't answer, intent on his task, which seemed to be ridding his king of his bowtie. He snarled as the back of the Lucifer's knees hit the bed, sending him careening backwards. The redhead followed him down, hands abandoning their task to catch himself before he landed on top of the blonde.

For a moment, they froze, both panting. Lucifer stared up at Alastor from where he lay on his back, legs dangling over the side of the bed. Alastor stared down at him, black drool dripping down his chin, that quick witted mind near lost to his bloodlust.

Lucifer swallowed, the gulp loud in the silence of the room. Red, glowing eyes followed the movement, teeth elongating ever so slightly. His form had grown as his antlers extended as his Wendigo side threatened to take full control.

"Alastor, come back." Lucifer didn't dare move, not wanting to set him off. "You'll have your feast, but you need to come back first."

Alastor's responding growl was more canine than his form should allow. His claws dug into the bedsheets, the poor silk shredding under their sharp tips. Lucifer watched as he fought a battle with his hunger. The glow dimmed and brightened as his human mind struggled for control.

Lucifer could see the moment the balance tipped. Form mostly returned to normal, Alastor lowered himself until he could bury his face in the fallen angel's hair. "Transform." His voice sounded like he'd swallowed gravel, filter struggling to interpret the sound.

Slowly, Lucifer raised a hand, not touching, but held out in the universal sign for 'stop.' "Wait."

Alastor didn't take the response well. Sharp fangs grazed Lucifer's chin as the Radio Demon hissed, "You can't deny me."

Actually, Lucifer could. He still had quite a bit of his 12 hours left. He could leave right then and there and there was little Alastor could do to stop him. Perhaps he should have left right then, but there was no telling if delaying would allow the radio host time to calm down or if he'd lose more control as his hunger rose up again to swallow him.

"I'm not trying to." Unable to tell if the redhead could even see it from where he'd buried his face in the blonde's neck, Lucifer pointed up towards the head of the bed. "I just thought it would be more comfortable if I was propped up and you didn't have your face buried in the sheets."

Alastor's ears flattened. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. At least he seemed more stable now that he was convinced he wasn't being denied his feast.

With aching slowness, inch by inch, Alastor pulled away. When Lucifer could see his face again, only the charming facade of the Hazbin Hotel's hotelier peered back at him. Lucifer hadn't realized how tense he himself was until he was met with the familiar sight. He still hesitated to move, unsure of sinner's control.

Seeing his hesitation, Alastor's smiled down at him with that lazy grin of his. "Ah, that must have been unsightly. Please, let's relocate ourselves. It's always better to dine in comfort."

Lucifer's eye twitched. 'Dine in comfort.' One of them would be dinning in comfort, he supposed.

Lucifer slithered out from beneath the cage of Alastor's limbs. Usually, when someone joined him in his bed, he might have made a show of crossing it. Sometimes, it was a tease meant to excite. Sometimes, it was just being silly or just having fun. This was hardly the first time someone who wasn't a lover had joined him. Lilith had been his only sexual partner, his temptation of Eve aside, but he had shared a bed with friends and family throughout his life. Angels, fallen or not, were social creatures. It hadn't been uncommon for Lucifer and his brothers and sisters to indulge in cuddle fests that resulted in a giggling pile of limbs and wings. After their fall, Lucifer and some of the other deadly sins had retained some degree of need for physical contact, although they all had wildly different ways of meeting that need.

Since there was no one interested in any sort of play here, Lucifer merely scooted back towards the pillows, Alastor following his progress with a hunter's keen eye. He couldn't decide how he felt about the fact that the first person to join in his bed post divorcing his one and only marital partner was someone like the Radio Demon. This would even be the first time the blonde had invited a sinner into his bed. He nearly laughed at himself that, of course, it would be under the circumstance that said sinner was only here to feast upon his blood. He stopped when his back hit a pillow, already reaching to finish divesting himself of his bow tie. It had survived the redhead's attempt to rip it apart by virtue of being something Lucifer's magic had created. It went over the side of the bed with careless abandon, his vest following shortly after.

As he reached his shirt, he found himself pausing several buttons down. He had already bared all to this sinner once before. His pride certainly didn't leave him with anything to worry about - he knew how attractive he was. For some reason, though, the mere thought of getting any more undressed than an unbuttoned top was suddenly too much. Perhaps it was because of the encounter with Valentino, the sinner's slimy touch still burned into his skin. Perhaps it was because of how overwhelming everyone's attention at the studio had been. Whatever it was, he was hit with a feeling of being too overexposed to bare all, even if it was only from the waist up.

Alastor's eyebrow rose when he failed to remove his shirt, opting to only leave it unbuttoned. Lucifer was willing to deal with cleaning up the inevitable mess that was to come, as long as he could retain some of his modesty. The redhead was immediately distracted by the appearance of those blonde ears that heralded the beginning of Lucifer's transformation. An equally blonde, fluffy tail was hidden behind him, wedged under the bottom of the pillow behind him. Lucifer was likely going to have to rescue it shortly, but for the moment, he let it be.

He pulled the collar of his shirt until it fell off his shoulder. His throat bared and his grin sly, he croaked a finger in a 'come hither.' "Come and take your reward, sinner."

The size of the bed and his position near the center of the headboard forced Alastor to come to him on hands and knees. Despite this, there was no worship in his gaze nor a subservient bone in this sinner's body. Alastor approached him with the grace of a dancer tempered with the deadly intent of a predator. As he drew near, the blond spread his legs, inviting the redhead closer. Unlike the last time they were both in this bed in a similar position, Alastor showed none of that disgust, although he did stop to situate himself so that there was no physical contact anywhere below the waist.

Reserves about contact below the waist did not seem to apply to above it. The instant he was near enough to do so, Alastor's nose was back in his hair, expertly avoiding his antlers. Lucifer could change his shape to match any of Earth's creatures, both real and imaginary, but the change was only cosmetic. He took on none of their behaviors. Was influenced by none of their instincts. How messy it must be to have such foreign habits thrust upon someone.

Lucifer was so distracted by his contemplation of the inner workings of this sinner he'd found himself so entangled with, he'd stopped paying attention to to what the redhead was actually doing. This was his only explanation for why he was so caught off guard when something sharp pressed against his throat, demanding in its threat, but not so much so it broke the surface of his skin.

Something that wasn't Alastor's teeth, as evidenced by the sinner pulling back and the sensation remaining.

The gleam in Alastor's eyes, pupils aglow made him more wary than any potential threat of the weapon. He glanced down, the hilt of the blade - a dagger - just visible from that angle. His eyes darkened as he recognized it.

It was that angelic steel blade the wolf demon had attacked him with. The same one he'd utterly forgotten right up until just then.

Clearly someone had found it and squirreled it away for potential future use. Had he already been planning some use for it, even as they negotiated their first contract? Lucifer glared up at Alastor, finding the sinner's face completely shrouded in darkness, save the glow of his red eyes and his yellow teeth, bared in a riotous grin.

It was utterly unhinged.

Someone else's memory rose up, super imposing itself over reality. For a moment, it wasn't Alastor, the Radio Demon leaning over him. Instead, a man in his thirties, brunette and dark skinned, crouched over him, smile stretched as wide as humanly possible across his face, brown eyes illuminated with the reflection of a street lamp.

It had been the last sight many of Alastor's victims had seen before he silenced them forever.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, the image dissipating like the morning fog. He raised the hand not holding a dagger to his king's throat up to cup Lucifer's cheek. His thumb pressed down into the fragile skin under the blonde's eye, rubbing across the length of it, as his expression smoothed into that fond one he'd taken to wearing most of the last hour or two.

Lucifer wondered if Alastor was aware that he had Seen him - the same way he'd Seen the wolf who'd attacked the hotel, had Seen Valentino. Had Seen him; knew all of his victim's names and their last moments. Knew of the crooked moral code Alastor had lived by, one that might have been seen as righteous, had the man not enjoyed the kill a little too much.

Perhaps that fondness was because the Devil himself had gazed upon this sinner and all of his sins and had still chosen to lay down and bare his neck to him like a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter.

Alastor shifted his leg to better brace himself. He studied the position of the dagger with the critical eye of a seasoned killer. The dagger rose up, first a centimeter, then another half centimeter. He held it in place, satisfied with its position and leaving no question in how this was going to go. There was nothing particularly kind in his face as he crooned sweetly, "I wouldn't recommend moving now, sire." He tightened his grip on the side of Lucifer's head. "I'd hate to cause unintentional damage."

And with that, Alastor slit Lucifer's throat.

The resulting wound was a testament to the Radio Demon's skill, practiced in life and honed in death. It was as damaging as it needed to be: deep enough to slice right through the carotid artery, causing hot, golden blood to spill forth in a rush. Alastor darted forward, latching his mouth over the open wound and sucked.

It hurt. Lucifer hadn't thought the dagger would hurt worse than when Alastor had used his teeth, but it did. Intellectually, he appreciated the cut would last longer with the dagger than with Alastor's teeth. Intellectually be damned, though, because physically it burned like the dickens with every pull at the wound.

Alastor hadn't restricted his ability to fight back. On reflex, he darted a hand up, going for those sensitive ears. Alastor, feeling the muscle move beneath his mouth, dropped the dagger in favor of catching his wrist effortlessly. He slammed it down against the sheets, leaning his weight on it to pin it down.

He wasn't fast enough to capture Lucifer's other wrist, the fallen angel having gone lower to reach for the sinner's ribs. Lucifer's claws sharpened, sharper blades than even angel steel, cutting through cloth and flesh as easy as a hot knife through butter. He only stopped when the skin between two of his fingers hit bone. Immediately, the wet feeling of blood began to seep into the fabric and then onto his hand.

The redhead showed his displeasure by digging his teeth into the flesh around the cut, spilling even more blood in the process.

Lucifer writhed, unable to escape as long as Alastor continued to swallow down his blood. He hissed, managing to growl out, "Alastor, that... hurts."

Static screeched through the air. Alastor didn't remove his teeth, but he didn't drive them in deeper. Uncaring that he was causing more damage, he reached down and around, before yanking the blonde's claws from his side. Lucifer felt, more than saw, the blood spill from the wound and hitting his side, where the fluids immediately began to soak into both his shirt and the sheets, adding to the mess they were making of each other and his bed.

Lucifer panted, casting around for something to distract himself from the pain in his neck and the disturbing sound of Alastor gulping down his blood, abnormally loud in the otherwise silence of the room. There was little to focus on, save the feel of the silk sheets, his painfully trapped tail, and the feel of blood (his own and Alastor's) in varying stages of cooling and coagulation in the sheets around him.

The steady feel of dripping against his side managed to penetrate the haze of pain. He couldn't see it properly, but judging from the growing blood stain on his shirt, he concluded he'd done some damage himself. He had half a mind to leave it, a warning not to use the dagger in the future. His blood was more than adequate to heal the damage in no time.

Healing a wound required a great deal of concentration and he latched onto the thought as a welcome distraction. Told himself that was the only reason he was doing it. It certainly wasn't an apology, as he was of the opinion that Alastor had more than deserved it. Tearing his gaze away from the ears he wanted nothing more than to dig his claws into, his twisted his wrist in an attempt to free it. When Alastor refused him his freedom, Lucifer warned, "Let go." A little gentler, he assured, "I'm not going to hurt you again."

More static spilled out of the redhead. Lucifer thought he'd have to go back on his word and potentially hurt him to free himself, had half a mind to just let the stubborn asshole suffer, but eventually Alastor relinquished his hold. He full-bodied flinched as Lucifer pressed his hand over the wound, his growl a warning.

Lucifer ignored it, closing his eyes to focus on the damaged cells. He'd nicked the lowest two bones of Alastor's rib cage when he'd driven his claws in, but hadn't chipped them. He decided to focus on them last, instead coaxing the copious amounts of spilled blood lingering around the wound to coagulate and help seal up any severed blood vessels and torn flesh. Next, he began the process of speeding up the formation of collagen and fresh tissue until the wound looked like it was several weeks old, rather than a few minutes. Repair of the bone came next, smoothing away any marks he'd left behind until all signs of the wound were gone.

In response, Alastor withdrew his teeth, allowing the skin to finally begin to heal itself. Lucifer doubted he'd receive an apology any more than he felt like giving one himself.

As a last touch, Lucifer wiped away the tares to the pin stripped coat under his fingers with a simple swipe of his thumb. Finished with the task, he simply ran his thumb along the material, focusing on the texture. It was good quality, rougher than it was than anything he, himself, owned. If he remembered, he might ask Alastor about his tailor.

The sinner arched his back, leaning away from his hand. A signal he was at his limit on any unwanted physical touch. It was fine, in Lucifer's book, as his arm was beginning to feel heavy.

All of his limbs were beginning to feel heavy. His body sending him their own signal that it was at its own limit.

There was nothing Alastor could do to kill him. This was beyond the sinner's power. He could drain every drop of blood from this corrupt shell, tear it limp from limb, and consume as much flesh as he could stomach. Lucifer would live.

Immortal and durable as this body was, it had its limits. Rare as it was, unfelt in thousands of years, if Lucifer pushed too hard, withstood too much damage, out of self preservation, his body would simply shut down to conserve energy and focus on repairing the damage. It had been quite a while since he had done anything to feel this, but the feeling was still too tied to traumatic memories to ever forget.

He let his head lean back to rest against the headboard. Alastor's frantic feasting had diminished from that of a man starved to one who was savoring every last mouth full of a meal before admitting he was too stuffed to continue. The wound throbbed in time with his slowing heart, but Lucifer was already growing used to it.

Lucifer was unsure if he was going to have the strength to pretend he was unaffected enough to spar with a recovered Radio Demon. He could already feel the urge to give into his body's demands, to fall asleep right there and then and sleep until he was recovered enough to be conscious again. Normally, he wouldn't care about the wolf he had willingly invited into his room and into his bed, he had already proven which of the two of them was more powerful.

But this wouldn't be a normal sleep. Alastor might not have registered as foe anymore, but he was still capable of doing anything. There was no telling where or in what condition Lucifer would wake up in.

A weight dropped down on him, jolting him back into alertness. He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until they snapped open. He came aware to find himself pinned rather effectively to the bed. He turned his head to the side, almost getting a face full of black tipped hair in the process. He blamed his addled brain for how long it took him to realize what had happened. In his defense, it wasn't something he ever thought would happen.

Alastor was laying on top of him. With Lucifer's reclined position and the bend in the sinner's back, he didn't think it was very comfortable.

What?

The redhead quite expertly causing his brain to malfunction tensed. The blond thought it might be because of all the physical contact they were currently sharing. Alastor put that thought on the back burner when he propped himself up, up until they were nearly nose to nose, and gave him a look.

Lucifer blinked up at him, baffled. Alastor was studying him like he was suddenly the most curious creature he had ever encountered and Lucifer had no clue what he'd down to warrant it.

Taking advantage of his lack of energy and utter bafflement, Alastor proceeded to take it upon himself to manhandle the blonde until they were both at a more reclined angle. Seemingly happy with their new position, the sinner resumed his previous spot.

Right on top of Lucifer.

Lucifer wanted to protest, a little voice in his mind quite vocal over the sinner's audacity. Protesting would have required he muster up enough energy to try and make sense of how the hell they had somehow gone from Alastor not wanting to touch him to... well. This.

Whatever this was.

He blinked at the ceiling, something he had done numerous times since moving in. It held no more answers to his questions than it ever did. Dredging up enough magic from the bottom of the wellspring that was the source of his power, he cleaned up the blood. Butterfly stitches, covered by a bandage appeared around his neck. By the time it needed to be changed it, he wouldn't need it anymore.

Pressed up against him chest to sternum, Lucifer couldn't help but notice that Alastor was all long limbs and lithe muscle. The sinner's weight was usually negligible, the fallen angel more than capable of tossing him around. Now, it felt like it could actually hold him here in this place that should be safe (but wasn't). The heat of his body seeped into Lucifer's where they were pressed together, coaxing his muscles to give up the last of their tension.

It eased something in his core, a longing for physical contact with another person he'd desperately wished for since Lilith last shared their bed. It was… almost nice. Almost nice enough he could forget all of the steps that had lead them to this moment.

Alastor's breathing had deepened. He wasn't asleep, but he seemed close. Perhaps expending as much energy as he had, like working a new muscle for the first time, followed by a hearty meal was threatening to send the redhead into his own coma.

It didn't explain what was going on here.

"What are you doing?"

The end of the question was muffled by the hand Alastor had placed over Lucifer's mouth. Lucifer didn't have the energy to glare at it.

"Sleep, sire." Alastor's voice had deepened, his filter all but gone. His hand fell away to lay beside the blonde's cheek on the pillow. He turned his head to bury his nose in Lucifer's hair. "Everything else can wait until later."

Lucifer still didn't know if this place was any safer now than it had been at the start of his worries, but he found that he was willing to find out. Closing his eyes, he let slumber take him.

The pinging of his phone roused him. Lucifer shifted, the sluggishness of his limbs coming from a deep slumber rather than an intrinsic need to recover. He was warm, warmer than he had been when he'd fallen asleep.

He knew even before he opened his eyes that Alastor was gone.

He noted the warmth he'd felt came from having been tucked under the covers. He didn't remember the redhead getting up. Didn't remember being moved and placed under the covers. He almost snorted at the fact that although Alastor had decided to pull the covers over him, he'd tucked him in, clothes and boots and all. He'd know that ceiling anywhere, so he was still in his room. A glance at his clock told him that he had been passed out for six hours.

Not the longest time he'd taken to recover. Not the shortest, but not the longest. He must have been more stressed than he gave himself credit.

He pushed himself up on to his elbows, getting a better look around the room. There was no one else in the room. No sounds came from his personal bathroom, the door open and the light off.

Grief tightened the muscles in his chest, the feeling almost immediately washed away by a tidal wave of self loathing and anger. There had been no reason to believe there would be anyone there when he woke up. He had lost the right to the company of his brothers and sisters when he rebelled against Heaven. Lost his fellow sins when he turned his back on his kingdom and withdrew from everyone except his wife and daughter. Lilith had left decades before she finally walked out the door with Charlie, likely finally reaching her limit with him.

And Alastor? All Alastor wanted from him was access to his blood and some unknown favor at some point in the future. Who know what that guy was thinking, let alone why he had deemed Lucifer a decent pillow to sleep on. For all Lucifer knew, he had imagined the whole thing and had passed out prior to Alastor dropping on him.

He fell back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. The only person that still wanted anything to do with him for him was Charlie. It sucked, but he had done it to himself. He simply had to live with it.

He let himself wallow in his self pity for several more minutes, before the pinging of his phone told him he really needed to get up and deal with whoever was trying to get his attention. He slide one hand down to touch the side of his neck, the bandage proof that he hadn't imagined the entire afternoon. He let it ground him and remind him of his obligations.

He went first to his bathroom. Turning on the light forced him to reckon with the mess that was his appearance. Yellow strands of hair was all in a wild disarray and the bruising under his eyes more pronounced than usual. Splashing water in his face helped with some of the puffiness, while finger combing his hair brought the mess somewhat under control. He would mostly have to contend with appearing tired, something he thought fair since it was coming up on evening.

He turned his inspection to Alastor's parting gift. Pulling away the bandages, he silently cursed the redhead as he noted it would be too high to hide with his normal attire. His choices were either wear something with a higher neckline or advertise to the entirety of the hotel what he had allowed Alastor to talk him into.

A snap of his fingers conjured a cashmere roll neck in the same shade of pink as his favorite vest. It wasn't his preferred level of dress and he had to placate himself with the reminder that it would only be for a few days. He nodded his head, his reflection mirroring the action back at him. It would have to do.

Lucifer navigated his way back to his bedside dresser, stepping over a few errant ducks that had wandered away from their various piles. His phone had been silent the entire time he was freshening up, which could mean anything. He picked it up, tapping the screen and lighting up the lock screen. Various notifications light up the area below the lock screen clock. Most were spam: a warning about the prediction of acid ran in a few hours or some event Bee was holding that upcoming weekend. He noted the bundle of text messages, one from Charlie at the top of the pile.

He unlocked the phone, pulling up his daughter's text first. The message was a simple request to let her know when he had returned.

He sent her a quick reply, letting her know that he had returned safely, but had accidentally taken a unexpected nap following his return. He didn't have to wait long before she answered back, saying she was glad he was okay. Another message followed, asking if he would be joining them for dinner.

He placed her answer on hold, opting to check on the other messages he had received first. By coincidence, her text message and several from one of his live-servants had arrived, one right after the other, giving the illusion that he was receiving a storm of text messages.

Abiwell was the unlucky imp that had the misfortune of sorting out any correspondence that arrived for the royal family. High was the mountain that was usually for Lilith, everyone wishing for the Queen to grace them with her presence. However, no protocol had been put in place for what to do with her correspondence should she ever leave. So abrupt had been her disappearance, an overwhelmed Lucifer had refused to deal with the issue. With no idea if she would ever return, looking more unlikely the longer she was gone, many of them had simply been placed in her office to wait for her potential return.

Rarely, becoming more so with each passing year, were things that needed Lucifer's attention. Many of his few remaining correspondents had cottoned on that the best way to reach him was via his cellphone. When he'd gone into near total isolation over the last seven years, it had been the only way to reach him. As such, any remaining letters addressed to him had evaporated.

Or so it had seemed.

Innocently sitting in a text, attached as a picture file, was a royal invitation. And not just any invitation, oh no, it was one from one of the ruling families of the Ars Goetia, which meant he really couldn't ignore it. He tapped the image file, enlarging it until he could read the inscription.

His Royal Highness, Stolas, Grand Prince of the Ars Goetia, and Stella, Princess of the Ars Goetia, request the pleasure of the company of Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar at the Coming of Age Ceremony of their daughter Her Royal Highness, Octavia, Heiress of the Ars Goetia on--

Lucifer's first instinct, born of almost a millennium of doing so and not to be undone by a mere seven years, was to forward the message to Lilith. With a sickening lurch, he remembered for what felt like the first time all over again, that that option wasn't an option at all. One, because everything he'd sent her over the last seven years had received a 'message not sent' response and two, because she had left and no one knew where she was. No longer seeing the invitation, Lucifer's grip tightened, the cellphone giving a plasticky sounding creak in protest.

This was one of the ranking members of the royal families of Hell. Hellborn, yes, but still royalty. Each of the Sins, or someone representing them, were expected to show up or it would be viewed as a sever slight. Lilith, his queen and representative, could no longer attend.

Which meant that he would be expected to attend or risk offending one of the higher ranking families of the Ars Goetia.

For one (weak, so very weak) moment, he considered handing the invitation over to Charlie. He was already justifying it to himself - she had to start attending these events some day - before he stopped himself.

No. No, he couldn't send Charlie. The last time he'd (had a bad day) sent Charlie in his place, Heaven had decided to throw a temper tantrum over the fact that a sinner had discovered one of their dirty little secrets.

The phone slid out of nerveless fingers, the little thump as it hit the bed overshadowed by the larger thump of his knees hitting the floor. He covered his mouth, stifling the bitter, hollow laugh rattling around in his lungs. It had been one thing to show his face to the sinners of Pentagram City. He didn't care about their opinions, not really.

Going in front of his fellow peers, the other Sins, was an entirely different animal. The other Sins, his fallen brothers and sisters, were all that remained of his ties to his Heavenly family. They had teased and supported him when he courted and won Lilith's favor. Stood by him when he'd stirred unrest in Heaven. They were the only ones that hadn't turned their backs on him when he fucked up and released the Root of All Evil, giving her a foot hold in Humanity.

And yet, that was what he had done to them. He'd turned his back on them, on everyone, the deeper he'd fallen into the blackhole that was his depression. How could he face them after leaving all of Hell to rot? For driving Lilith away?

It filtered through his thoughts, the realization that he couldn't breathe. His throat felt too tight as his diaphragm felt like it suddenly didn't remember how to work. Trying to focus on his breathing, trying to manually draw in air, seemed to only be making things worse, the blood rushing in his ears as it became too oxygenated--

"Sire?"

Alastor.

Lucifer froze, heart seizing in his chest.

Alastor's footsteps drew near as he came around the bed, stopping at the end as he spotted him.

Their gazes locked, Lucifer's panic rising with each passing heart beat. If he had been any less panicked, he might have remembered that he could have easily opened a portal and fled to the palace. He could have just as easily opened a portal directly under Alastor's feet, sending the sinner on a one way ticket to the floor below them. He was a creature capable of flight and there was a perfectly functional window just off to his right. If for some reason the window wasn't working, see previous portal making ability.

All rationale had gone up in smoke, however, as the memory of Alastor's (Lilith's) words drove all thoughts from his head.

How pathetic.

He watched as Alastor's shoes (when had he dropped his gaze?) came closer. He couldn't bear to see what expression the sinner had on his face, this human whose opinion he swore he didn't care about but apparently still did. He frowned when Alastor came within arm's reach, and then folded himself gracefully down into a crouch in front of him.

The sinner reached out a hand, getting as far as brushing the skin of his hand before the fallen angel flinched, curling in on himself as if he was the one that abhorred touch.

"Sire?" There was no sound of mocking in that voice. Alastor sounded like he was trying to coax out a wild animal that had taken refuge under his porch and then found itself too terrified to leave.

It only made Lucifer want to draw up his knees and hunch his shoulders in. He couldn't understand why Alastor wasn't making some cutting remark about his lack of control. He certainly hadn't held back before.

Confused and unable to articulate the root of his issue, he went with, "But… you hate people touching you."

Alastor huffed. Lucifer finally mustered the courage to glance at his face. His smile was ever present - the blonde was fairly certain the redhead couldn't not smile - but it was closed and smaller than normal. Alastor had no use for kindness, but he did know how to be gentle when necessary. It was the only word - "gentle" - Lucifer could think to explain the expression on his face in that moment.

"You're quite right, your Majesty. I strongly dislike people touching me," Alastor affirmed. When he reached for Lucifer's hand again, the blonde didn't resist out of confusion. "I do find it somewhat tolerable if that touch is happening under my terms."

Lucifer couldn't draw the air in to ask, what are you doing? The question must have shown on his face anyway.

Alastor drew Lucifer's hand in to rest the latter's palm upon the former's chest. Taking a breathe in, the redhead said, "Breathe with me, sire. Deep breathe in, followed by a slow breathe out." He demonstrated the appropriate breathe in through the nose, followed by a longer breathe out through the mouth. Repeated it until Lucifer started to mimic him.

Lucifer's focus narrowed down until all he could feel was the rise and fall of the chest beneath his palm. Until all he could see was that ever present mask of a smile on Alastor's face, the sinner's own coping mechanism with the world. He forced the relaxation of the muscles in his chest and abdomen, trusting his lungs and diaphragm knew what they were doing, careful not to focus too much on the act of breathing itself. To focus on that would be to start the cycle all over again.

He slumped against the side of the bed, feeling shaky and twitchy. His breathing was back under control, but he felt like one wrong thought might send him back over the edge.

Seeing the crisis was temporarily abated, Alastor coaxed and manhandled him up onto the bed. The offending cellphone, with its oh so innocuous message, was deposited on the bedside table, lest it get lost in the bedsheets. A little more maneuvering around and the sinner had his king bundled up in the comforter, Lucifer's head the only visible thing about him.

Lucifer was too blank to do anything other than stare as Alastor took a seat beside him, pulling him up against the redhead's side. He couldn't feel anything through the comforter (which was perhaps the point), but he could feel the sharp tips of claws running lightly across his skull, could feel the whisper of an exhale as it moved several strands of hair.

This show of comfort felt like a ruse, another part of this game that Alastor was playing with him. He knew what the sinner was doing, could see the jaws of the trap closing in around him. When had the game changed from driving him away to pulling him in? What would Alastor do if Lucifer allowed himself to become ensnared, as Alastor was so unwittingly becoming ensnared himself?

No, he would not let himself fall into that trap, not this day. But he would allow himself to accept this comfort, shallow and full of barbs as it was.

They sat there for some undetermined amount of time, Lucifer content to let the warmth of his cocoon seep into his limbs and ease his shivering. It was inevitable that one of them would break the silence, he was merely surprised the sinner was patient enough he lasted as long as he did.

"Will you tell me what troubles you, your Majesty?"

What didn't trouble him? He eyed the deer demon out of the corner of his eye, wondering what he planned to do with this ammunition, should Lucifer choose to confide in him.

Knowing it was no secret he had avoided any social gathering he could get out of, he offered, "Octavia is coming of age. Stolas and Stella are holding a coming of age ceremony for her."

Alastor fell silent, pondering. For clarification, he asked, "The Ars Goetia?"

The noise Lucifer made was somewhere between a snort and a hum, unsurprised that Alastor was up to date even in this area. "Of course you know who they are."

Alastor pulled away, laughing. "I couldn't very well climb the corporate ladder of Pentagram City if I didn't know all of the players in the game." His nails came perilously close to one of the yellow-white ears Lucifer had yet to send away. "They may not play with sinners, but we do all share real estate."

Sinners and Hellborn sharing space in a single ring was always going to be a powder keg waiting to ignite. Where once upon a time, both parties numbers had been so low it had been easy to avoid each other, now humanity's numbers were booming far faster than Hell's native species could keep up.

Alastor's hand came to rest on Lucifer's shoulder, the weight barely noticeable through the thick comforter. There was a thoughtful look on his face as he mused, "I'm a little surprised they're cooperating enough to hold the ceremony. All the latest gossip says she's trying to kill him." He gave Lucifer an amused smile, the edges tinted with mockery. "Ah, the hilarious things you royals do to keep up appearances."

Lucifer nearly snorted, bitterness lapping at the edges of his numbness like the incoming tide. Power was a game of chess, where all the players made small talk and played nice, while everyone was secretly plotting behind everyone else's backs. When marriage was done for politics and status, not for love, it was bound to cause some tension.

He stared straight ahead, refusing to look at his phone. "The Sins - or a stand in - will be expected to go."

Alastor caught on quick. He narrowed his eyes at the blonde, something malicious just beneath the surface of his smile. "Why not send Charlie, then? Has she not represented you in the past?"

Irritation warred with guilt, almost enough to break free. Lucifer bared his teeth in a half hearted snarl, more for show then actually meaning it. The heat in his voice was just as half hearted as he answered, just as honest, "I'm not going to ask her to fight my battles again."

It was unlikely that anything of the magnitude of Heaven upping the extermination of Hell's population of sinners would happen at a coming of age ceremony, but Charlie had had enough bad luck for one year. Why test it some more?

He let the expression drop, pulling the covers tighter around his shoulders. "Besides, it's just a social gathering," he said, as if it hadn't just triggered the beginnings of a panic attack less than ten minutes prior. "I can do a social gathering."

He didn't know who he was trying to fool with that statement, but it certainly wasn't Alastor, if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

Oh, who was he kidding? He so couldn't do a social gathering.

Alastor eyed him, considering. "Would it help if someone went with you?"

Lucifer chewed on the idea. "Who would I even ask?" He hadn't gone to a social gathering by himself in hundreds of years. Usually, either Lilith or Lilith and Charlie had gone with him, whether it was the some milestone for the latest heir or a children's play date. He couldn't ask Lilith to go with him for obvious reasons and asking Charlie would feel too much like he was asking her to act as his crutch, something that wouldn't be fair to her. With them not being an option, that kind of left him empty handed. "Nope, can't think of anyone."

"Didn't I tell you, sire?" Something dark and sweet lurked in Alastor's expression as the dealmaker ran his fingers up Lucifer's neck, settling on cupping his jaw. His head was forced to turn until they face to face, Alastor's smile like honey meant to draw the unsuspecting in. "You still have me."

An echo, a whisper, I'll be with you the whole time.

Lucifer was too stunned to react. Their deal was all but done. Alastor had done his part. The only thing left to do was for the sinner to call in his mysterious favor and it would be done. Why would he sign up for a night of babysitting a twitchy fallen angel? Nervously, he laughed. "Funny, I thought you were serious there for a moment."

Alastor drew closer until their noses almost touched. His brow twitched. "I'm quite serious."

Lucifer leaned back. "I'm not about to make another deal with you." His neck twinged, reminding him of the ones he was already trapped in.

The redhead rolled his eyes as if Lucifer was the one being ridiculous. "And who's asking?" He waved the concern away with his free hand. "The experience alone would be of worth to me."

Lucifer doubted it was that simple. Still, he tried picturing it: this taciturn, egotistical sinner in a room full of beings powerful enough to swat him like a fly the moment he annoyed them. Lucifer's could feel the dubious frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You do realize every single one of the people at this party is going to dislike you, right? Hellborn don't like mingling with sinners."

Alastor looked at him like he wondered who Lucifer thought he was. "This won't be my first party with a pack of wolves."

"You do know you're not invincible, right?" One of these days, Alastor's ego was going to get him killed. To drive this point home, he raised his hand up to the redhead's forehead, made easier by Alastor still being so close, and flicked.

Right where the bullet that had killed him would have exited.

The response was electric.

Alastor's eyes turned red on black, green stitching lighting up his person. His hands, claws razer sharp, caught Lucifer's grip in what would have been a bone crushing grip, had Lucifer been a sinner. "Don't ever do that again." The Radio Demon's smile was long and full of teeth as sharp as his claws. He was fully rejuvenated from his little stunt earlier in the day and he likely could have taken on any of the Overlords in that moment and won.

But as powerful as he was, Lucifer barely felt the grip around his wrist. It would be child's play to break it. Alastor would be nothing more than a fly to even the least powerful member of the Goetia. That was his point.

Lucifer matched his smile with the blankness of apathy. "You wouldn't last the night in the same room with these demons. They'd eat you alive the moment you pissed them off." Would it be worth it to inflict a sinner - this sinner, at that - on the rest of the Goetia just to see how long Alastor could last before someone knocked him down another peg?

Alastor was undeterred by the threat. "Is that a yes?"

This was a bad idea. Lucifer shrugged, feeling a little light headed. "Sure. Just know I'm not bailing you out when you get in over your head."

The redhead released his wrist, finally backing off. His appearance returned to normal, as if he had never lost his temper to begin with. "Perfect. And when is this ceremony?"

Lucifer couldn't believe he was actually doing this. This was such a bad idea. But he was the King of Bad Ideas, was he not? Covering his eyes with a single hand, he groaned.

"It's tomorrow."

tbc

Part 14

[druidonity2]

Happy late birthday!

My apologies but I have been holding myself back and I just need to ask:

What would Demon Hunters look like as a flight, with Illidan being their Aspect? 👀👀👀👀

Thank you!! <3 <3 <3

Ooooh hmmmmm. In my head I see them as originally a fel-tainted offset of green dragons, coming together to call themselves The Green Flame, or the Flight of the Green Flame. (I imagine Flight of the Fel'd could work too, but warlocks and Man'ari come to mind too so idk) However this flight is not made solely of green dragons ofc, any dragon who can make the required sacrifices and survive are welcomed within. You can identify these dragons from their empty eye sockets overflowing with fel, sawed off horns replaced by more demonic typically front-facing horns, glowing fel markings etched into their scales, and wings torn and shredded. Some have mutated limbs and tails, multiple distorted wings, the worst of them may be mistaken as corrupted by old gods with just how grotesque they've become.

While Wardens tails make up their glave when curled, Illidari cut off the tips of their tails to replace with actual warglaves. Some of the more mutated dragons develop multiple tails, which are also then fixed with blades, and make them especially dangerous to face in close combat. Replacing their old horns and tails are just one big step in turning away from the dragon you once were, you won't find an illidari dragon who hasn't done both.

Illidan was a green dragon, born with gold eyes and great expectations placed upon him he did not achieve. After turning away from the Emerald Dream and it's protection he looked to the magics of the blue flight, and then, of course, to fel itself. We all know how this ends.

(im still workshopping Illidan's original non-corrupted form, but i figured i'd doodle something to show the changes. I picture him looking more like his brother, sans antlers)

[taleswritten]

@lilitophidian sent

❛  ah-ah, don’t pass out on me now. we were just getting to the fun part. i’m not going to rush this. i’m going to take my sweet time.  ❜ [ For Alastor :o) ]

"Pass out on you? I wouldn't dream of it." Underneath the perfectly sculpted smile, there is an anger simmering under the surface. An anger that he can do nothing about for she holds his leash.

Oh, how he wants nothing more than to rip her pretty face into shreds, to gore her with his antlers, to devour her completely and yet....he is powerless. Perhaps the only person he is powerless against - he hates it more than he can properly express.

"We're just getting started, after all, dear Lilith." If he can't beat her, he might as well play along, perhaps he will find some entertainment in it.

[miniature-giant-space-degu]

Trollhunter-Aktaion

Have you ever heard about the story of Aktaion the very unfortunate (even Unkar was quite lucky compared to this guy)? The hunter accidentily happened to stumble across the goddess of the hunt, Artemis, while she was bathing. Naturally, Artemis wasn't amused, so she turned Aktaion into a stag and had him torn to shreds by his own doggies! Strangely enough, quite a few painters found the subject really interesting. Most of the time, they show Aktaion during the transformation, with antlers and such.

Long story short: I decided to translate the sujet into the troll-hunter universe - conveniently, there's already a character with appendages on his head. And just for fun, I decided to replace the ravenous hounds with a slightly less dangerous NotEnrique.

[preservationofnormalcy]

My local backyard boar seems to have started coughing up black bile, and in just the right light I swear I can see *wriggling* under it's skin. I called the vet about it and upon hearing this the clerk started murmuring something in a language I'd never heard before. Not only that, but when I poked the bile with a stick (as one does) it withered instantly! I'm just about at the end of my rope here, any ideas?

Checking my notes - any chemical spills in your area recently? Unexplained industrial accidents? Rips in spacetime? Whispers at night telling you to run into the forest and don't look back? Shed your human skin like a coat, look upon the moon as a sister and the stars as brothers? Do you feel the tips of antlers shredding the skin of your scalp? Hear the cawing of black birds circling overhead? Do you no longer f e e l h u m a n?

Just narrowing it down.

This sounds like the Dark Green. Put potted plants around your property and if possible find the strongest drinkable alcohol you can and leave it on your porch as an offering. If you see anyone in overalls creeping around your property, leave them to their work. That's a druid.

[shroompunk]

the old bird and his little mortal worm

ID: Digital illustration of two anthro characters standing side by side. On the left is a small opossum person wearing a bird skull mask, with most of their skin covered with a leather jacket, turtleneck, vest, and slacks. On the right, towering over them, is a fat raven man with a crown of antlers and jagged beak, dressed in ragged clothes that resemble that of a wealthy academic but shredded and old-fashioned.

[s-creations]

Comes in Waves - First Meetings

Entries for the 2024 RadioStatic Week.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags: Cursing, Angst, Fluff and Angst, I'll try and write a good mix of both happy and sad, They're both idiots when it comes to love.

No one properly ‘greeted’ you in Hell. 

Which made sense. This place was filled with mortals turned demons who were the worst that Earth had to offer. They only cared about themselves when they were alive and were now trapped in a place that made it clear that weakness got you killed. Still, maybe some humanity could have been saved. In at least one person. 

Too bad for him, he found a group of sinners who didn’t care that he was new. 

“You drew a bad lot of luck,” the ring leader laughed out, “Not only a sinner, but a sinner with a TV for a head? God must’ve really hated you.”

His attempt to argue, to put up a fight, was quickly diminished when a strike hit the side of his new head. The large, cumbersome head already makes it hard to balance. But the unforeseen blow made him collapse onto the ground. Both from losing his stability and from the pain he was in. His vision filled with static as he attempted to face his attackers once more. 

He leaned against the wall as he was closed in on. Unable to get back up between the new pain and the cold sickness seeping into him. 

Was he going to die, again? So soon after arriving to this place? Wasn’t that a little unfair? 

Well…it was Hell. 

Before the leader’s hit could land, all froze in disbelief as a black…tentacle (What?) suddenly burst through his chest. Yellow eyes widening in shock before any form of life is drained from them. Said tentacle apparently wasn’t done as it lifted the unmoving form up and threw it.

He watched with some small satisfaction as the body arched high into the air before landing on the ground with a satisfying ‘splat’. 

Said tentacle retreated back to the new addition, who was standing at the entrance of the alleyway. He was unable to make out any details, just that their eyes were red dials. And that they were clearly upset.

“Oh fuck,” another sinner spat out fearfully, “Oh fuck!”

“I’m a little hurt by this.” The new arrival spoke slowly, calmly, with a strange radio filter being applied to it. As they stepped into the alleyway, those remaining pressed themselves against the wall he was currently leaning on. Trying to put as much distance between them and the new arrival. 

Some even tried to climb the wall. He could hear furious scratches as claws dug into the stone wall. 

“I’ve been practically begging to have another brawl with you lot. Giving you enough dates and times for us to all play again. Yet you decide to pick on a newly arrived sinner? I know we’re in Hell, b̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞ t̳̿͟͞h̳̿͟͞a̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞’s̳̿͟͞ a̳̿͟͞ l̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞w̳̿͟͞ b̳̿͟͞l̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞w̳̿͟͞.”

He feels that he should be terrified. Terrified by the fact that he’d just seen someone easily kabobbed and tossed aside like nothing. Terrified that those around him who were mere seconds ago beating him up were now begging for their lives, to be let go. Terrified as the form stalking closer began to grow. Began to stretch and tower over them, with wide antlers on their head and mouth glowing an unnatural green, showing off a wide smile of sharp, yellow teeth. 

Yet he felt…amazed, in awe, and the figure before him. Because, somehow, he knew he wasn’t in danger. And that he could take this moment in for what it was, to enjoy it. 

In a blink of an eye, the rest of the gang that had harmed him were torn to shreds. The building walls painted with blood spatters and limbs littered the ground. Still, his attention remind on the sinner who’d saved him. 

Their form had shrunk back down, allowing him to get a better look at the other’s appearance. Dressed in red and black, a tattered but still styled overcoat, carrying a staff with a microphone atop of it, a monocle placed before one of the deep red eyes, hair turning into deer like ears with small antlers resting between them. 

His savior was a little easy on the eyes.

He couldn’t help but flinch as a hand was brought out for him to take. Eyes flickering between said hand and the rest of the demon attached to it.

“Come now, I don’t bite. Well, I do, but not on first encounters.” The other demon said, their smile never dropping. 

He took it cautiously and was helped back up. Wavering slightly as he tried to get back onto his feet. 

“Whoa there! A little unstable are we? Hmm, but not just from being new… That’s a rather grizzly dent right there.” 

“H-H-Hit m-me.” Was the helpful reply. 

“Ah, so you can talk! Good to know! The wound’s not too deep, you should heal up in no time. Let’s get out of this area, shall we? I’ve had my fun and I’m growing a little bored. Come along.” 

He really didn’t have that much of a choice seeing as he needed to be guided out of that area, his vision still a little blurred. So he followed, being led around the numerous body parts. Attention going as best it could to the unmoving form of the previous leader. 

“Would you believe that he had the audacity to try and challenge me?” the other said, “Me? Of all people. Well, I’m nothing if not gentlemanly, a good sport if you will. Gave him plenty of opportunity, but he never took the bite. And then I find him beating you down? The nerve.” 

“U-Um, y-y-yeah…” What was happening? 

The sinner frowned softly, “That…voice is getting rather annoying. Can you fix that?”

“I-I mean, I-I’m no-ot s-sur-re?” 

“Hmm, must be from that hit… How annoying. I’d best be off. I would advise to not find yourself stuck in that situation again. Remember, only the strong survive here!” The sinner laughed as if he’d just told a joke, already walking away from him. 

Desperately, he called out, “W-Wai-it!”

The sinner paused in their steps and faced him once more, “Yes?”

“...W-What’s y-you-ur name?”

“How rude of me! I murder in front of you yet don’t even share my name,” providing a low bow, they answered with, “You may call me Alaster, the Radio Demon. And it would be in your best interest to remember it.”

“A-Ala-astor…”

“And what of you?”

“M-Me?”

“What’s your name?”

He…couldn’t remember. He had a name, when he was on Earth, he was sure of it. But arriving in Hell, the mix of emotions and information beating him down, he seemed to have…forgotten. He provided a small shrug to the other. 

While the smile didn’t disappear, it did drop as Alastor’s eyes furrowed. “You don’t remember? Not even the name you had when you were alive?”

He shakes his head. 

“Well, that certainly won’t do… Maybe base it around the visual box that you now have for a head? That would be interesting?” 

“V-Visual b-b-box? Yo-ou mean the T-TV?”

“TV?”

“T-T-Telev-vision.”

“Hmmm, oh yes, the noisy picture box people have been ranting and raving about recently. Personally, I find them a bit annoying. Why leave it up to a machine to tell you what you should be seeing when you can picture it in your mind? Ah, but that’s for me to fester over. Coming back to you… I would like to help you before I depart. I hate leaving unfinished business.”

He frowned softly. What had Alastor called it at first? A visual box? He supposed that wasn’t too far off from what it is. Even had a nice ring to it. If he maybe…combined them? 

“V-Vox.”

“What was that good sir?” Alastor leaned forward on his staff, ears perking up. 

He felt a little heated with on intently he was being stared at and stated again, “Vox.”

 “Vox? Vox… Hmmm, I’ve heard worse. But, if you like it, who am I to argue?” With a twirl of the cane, Alastor turned his back to the new named Vox once more. “I hate to name and dash but I do have other priorities to attend to. Murder to take part in and what not. I would recommend finding your way to Cannibal Town. You can’t miss it, just take a right on the first street and you’ll be within spitting distance. Tell them that Alastor sent you and that you need to see Rosie, she’ll fix you right up. But tell them quickly so you don’t get too many bites.” 

“And remember what I said, only the strong survive!” 

With that, Alastor took off. Not looking back to see if Vox had moved, collapsed, or was even being attacked again. The other sinner had disappeared before Vox started to move. His mind swam as he focused on remaining upright and keeping hold of Alastor’s words. 

Only the strong survive.

He took that to heart. 

Vox learned quickly what it meant to be down in Hell. What highs and lows it offered. Finding his first leg up was in realizing that, while this form was cumbersome, it was invaluable. Because he knew and understood things far clearer than ever before. 

Electronics were simple, they bent to his whim with just the flick of his wrist. He could just think of something and it would suddenly be in his hands. He could defend himself not only with the weapons he created but with the electricity that surged through him. He was stronger, far stronger than he thought he could be. And that was just the first few years of being in Hell.

As time went on, Vox grew in strength and territory. He brought Hell into the next wave of technological advancements. He built a name for himself by providing services that no one had been able to offer before. There was even the surprise that he could make contracts, own people’s souls and lives to have them work for him, and that added to his ever growing power. He became an Overlord.

All the while, as his empire grew, so did his interest in Alastor. The Radio Demon. The sinner who appeared out of nowhere one day. Who seemed to, overnight, climb the ranks to an Overlord while others disappeared. Far faster than anyone before him and currently anyone after. One who held few contracts and worked in the shadows. Everyone seemed to know better than to cross his path, lest they wanted an early death. 

For how terrifying everyone made Alastor to be, Vox…felt differently. 

At first, it was fascination. Why was it that he was spared a death when it seemed that Alastor had no issues with killing off lesser beings? Surely with how he’s been discussed, the Radio Demon’s interest should be in killing, maiming. Not saving new arrivals that are less than the blood stains on his shoes. So why spare Vox? Was Alastor maybe not as heartless as others said? 

Fascination turned to adoration. A small spark of something would hit Vox’s heart whenever he heard the other demon’s name. He, rather shamefully, kept record of every movement that could be saved. Articles about the Radio Demon’s actions and kills, what new territories he’d toppled or even just small points such as where he was most frequently seen when not killing. He listened every Thursday, 7pm sharp, to listen to Alastor’s radio show. Even going so far as to buy an old fashioned radio to listen in properly. 

It wasn’t love…but it was the closest that Vox could land on for what this feeling was. 

They’d never crossed paths after that first meeting. Vox was pretty sure that Alaster had no clue who he was. That he’d just become another face in the sea of sinners that the Radio Demon had no interest in. But there was a small part that Vox clings onto that, maybe, he had made an impact in some way? 

He just can’t help but focus on the fact that he’d been spared. That had to have meant something…right? 

Right?

Vox came across Alastor’s path once more, years later. 

It was on the more quiet side of Hell. Mainly an area that had been practically demolished due to turf wars and no one had bothered to clean it up. Vox was there to survey. He needed a new tower constructed and the city was limited on space as is. The area wasn’t too bad. Messy, sure, but he’d honestly dealt with worse.

He’d been so focused on visualizing the setup that he was unaware of footsteps drawing closer. Only pulled from his thoughts when a familiar voice called out.

“Rather depressing place to find one as bright as you.”

Vox did everything he could to not jump. He didn’t want to offer the satisfaction that he’d not noticed the other. But he didn’t hide the smile as he faced Alastor, said demon walking until he was right next to the Media Overlord. 

“I don’t make it a habit,” Vox replied smoothly, “Just doing some surveying. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of claiming this place?”

Alastor laughed, a familiar track mimicking his sounds. “Oh heavens, no! This place is just quiet. A nice area to collect my thoughts, nothing more. I’m to assume, though, that it won’t be quiet for too long. If you’re here, that means you’re looking to expand.”

“Hey, everyone in Hell should have a convenient way to purchase my products,” Vox said with a smirk, “I’d rather they spend money on me instead on bus fare.” 

“Ha, how charming how your mind works.” Alastor finally looked away from the piles of rubble to Vox, who felt his insides burn from the words and attention. “You’re looking much better than the last time we crossed paths. Although your head is different…slimmer? Goodness, I didn’t think you could alter your appearance that severely.” 

“Neither did I. But trial and error is a great thing.” 

“So it is…”

“...Wait, so you remember me.” Vox added weakly as if just realizing what Alastor had said. 

“Of course I do! Not a name one could easily forget. As well as you’re the only demon I semi-know that has a mechanical box for a head. You are unique Vox.”

“I- thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

They fell silent, staring out across the destroyed plain, the noises of the city providing some distraction as they stood there. 

Vox, gathering his nerves, broke the silence. “I’ve been actually hoping to see you again. Since I don’t really see you at the Overlord meetings.”

“Hmmm, I should be going to those, shouldn’t I? Nevermind, what is it that you want to discuss?”

Heart beating furiously, Vox shifted to stand in more of Alastor’s vision. The Radio Demon raising a brow.

“Given the fact that we own and oversee two major forms of entertainment, video and radio, I thought it would be best to…to partner up.”

The brow raised further. “Partner…up?”

“Yes, now, look, I know Overlords don’t really team up or anything like that. Nothing permanent anyway. But I think for us, it makes sense! You have the know how with all of Hell and people already know your name far and wide. I would help command the other side. So many sinners watch TV now, it’s insane! I’m more than capable of doing some heavy lifting. We would…just compliment each other, you know? We’d be an awesome powerhouse!”

“Hmmm…”

“Yeah! So…what do you say?” Vox held out a hand, beaming at Alastor, “Partners?”

As time ticked on, Vox’s optimism faltered. His hand eventually lowers as he waits for Alastor to say something. Anything. Even if it was just to tell him no and move on. But the tight smile that was affixed to his face seemed strained, painful, unwanted. 

Eventually, Alastor reached out with his staff to fully push Vox’s hand down to his side. 

“...No?” Vox weakly voiced.

“I’m sure in your mind, it makes sense,” Alastor finally voiced, “Nothing you said was wrong. But…this is not something that would benefit either of us.”

“I- that’s not true.” Vox frowned. 

“Really? What would I gain from this?”

“I mean…power- more power.”

“I’m quite content with where I am now. I have enough power to keep any enemies at bay and if I wanted to rise in the ranks, I easily could. There’s nothing you can offer that I would need.” 

Vox felt a stab to his heart. “I…you must want something?”

“No, there isn’t. And furthermore, what would you get out of this deal? You’ve already made a name. You have a business that’s thriving and money pouring in to where I don’t see your account drying up any time soon. I can’t give you anything that you wouldn't be able to find on your own. So, I will ask, what would you get out of this?”

You.

“I…I don’t know.” Vox swallowed weakly, trying to push the pain down. 

“I understand the appeal. But this is not something that would work. For either of us. Maybe another Overlord would be better for you, to suit your needs. But that Overlord isn’t me and it will never be me. I…would let this go, Vox. For your own good.”

“You’re…not even going to consider it? Just a little bit?” Vox asked weakly, stepping forward. Only to freeze as Alastor stepped away. 

“I have, and I’ve reached my conclusion, which is no. You’re doing well for yourself Vox. Don’t let this dissuade you.”

Voice caught in his throat, Vox could only watch as Alastor gave him a short nod, turn, and started making his way back to the city. The Radio Demon was only a few feet away when Vox called out one final word.

“Why!”

Alastor paused at that, turning back to face Vox. The Media Overlord hit with a nostalgia note from that one movement. “I’ve explained to you-”

“Why did you save me?” Vox called back, “I was…nothing and you saved me, spared me, told me where I could get help. Why…would you do that? Why me?”

Alastor shrugged, “Why not you?”

“Why not now then?”

“...Because you don’t need me now.” 

Vox was unsure how long he remained in that desolate area, but night had fallen when he finally started to walk back to his main tower. Sadness, the bitter taste, was slowly replaced with anger, sour and curdling in his stomach. He didn’t care how the lights popped out as he passed them. Lesser demons made a clear path for him as he made his way. 

He only let out a cry of absolute anger when he was safely locked away in his own office. The walls and floor left with electrical burns from the aftermath.

“Fine…” Vox muttered as the office lights slowly came back on, “Fine, you want to play it that way? So be it. I’ll…I’ll show you that you need me.” 

Smirking, he made his way to the large computer. Clawing at his desk as he waited for it to power on. 

“I’ll become a stronger Overlord. I’ll make you regret that you said no to me…”

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Chapter Two Amuse-Bouche

TW: Crime scenes, Yelling Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist. Taglist: @punkin-time F.B.I. S.U.V. - BACKSEAT - 3 DAYS LATER   I wake  with a small start as Jack KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKS on the window I'm presently using as a pillow. "We're here." Jack says as i rub my eyes RUSTIC HUNTING CABIN - CHIPPEWA NATIONAL FOREST, MINNESOTA - DAY- A cold wind whips dead leaves around the eerie animal-skull-covered cabin where Garret Jacob Hobbs committed his murders. I am  transfixed by the horrifying cage of bones around Me. Every inch of wall, floor and ceiling is obscured by layers of antler under a veil-like evidence bag. Will focuses on the bloody stag rack as he walks in smiling at me, cutting through the bag to look closer. He turns, examining the rest of the room. Will looks around the room from this horrible vantage point. The door to the little shack creaks open as Jack steps quietly in, a steady unease about him. Will doesn't look up. "Could be a permanent installation in your Evil Minds museum." I say to Jack jokingly, "What we learn from Garret Jacob Hobbs will help us catch the next Garret Jacob Hobbs. There are still seven bodies unaccounted for." Jack says in a grumpy serious tone "Because he ate them." Will says knowingly, " there Had to be parts he didn't eat." Jack says, i shake my head "Not necessarily." Jack considers the magnitude of the room, coldly disturbed. "What if Hobbs wasn't eating alone. A lot of work. Disappearing these girls, butchering them and then worse. All without leaving a shred of anything outside of this room." Jack suggests, Will   and I consider that for  a moment, then: "Someone he hunted with?" Will asks tilting his head and furrowing his brows. "Or someone in a coma. Who happens to also be someone he hunted with." Jack implies my head shoot over to look at jack "Abigail Hobbs is a suspect?" I say concerned, over the past few days I had become maternal and protective over the girl And Closer with Will. "We've been conducting house-to-house interviews around the Hobbs residence and this property." Jack says looking over at me and Will, Will shakes his head "Hobbs and his daughter spent a lot of time together. They spent a lot of time together here. She would be the ideal bait, wouldn't she?" Jack says still implying that Abigail had something to do with this. I study the floor around Us, My eyes catching on something.  "Hobbs killed alone." Will's tone is definitive and Jack doesn't press the issue,but most certainly takes note of it. Will uses the tweezers in his pocket to tweeze something off an evidence bag, holding up a long, red hair in the tweezers. "Someone else was here." I say, eyeing the red hair. F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL - QUANTICO - DAY - I am guest lecturing with Will at his request where, to his surprise and mine, We are greeted with a standing ovation from his students. The clapping stops him cold. Will waves them off, uncomfortable. "Thank you. Please stop that." Will calls to his class, I put my hand on his arm seeing that he is overwhelmed. The applause peters out. Will dumps his briefcase on the desk and dives right into the lecture. He dims the lights, bringing up a slide of Hobbs's resignation letter. "This is how I  and Dr. L/N caught Garret Jacob Hobbs. It's his resignation letter. Anybody see the clue?" Will asks his students this obviously retorical question But A few hands go into the air. Will ignores them. "There isn't one. He wrote a letter, left his phone number...but no address. That's it." I say to Will's class CLICK. Will advances to the next slide and the crime scene photo of the Hobbs kitchen -- dead Hobbs, blood everywhere. It's horrific. "Bad bookkeeping and dumb luck." Will states, Me and Will both look back at the projection remembering the same thing Abigail Hobbs on the floor, her struggle to breathe underscored by the WHEEZE of air through her slashed wind-pipe.  Me applying  pressure to the wounds, and cradling her head in My lap. Will quickly clicks to the next slide: A PICTURE OF GARRET JACOB HOBBS and HIS DAUGHTER ABIGAIL in happier times,SMILING AFTER A HUNTING TRIP. "Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. The question now is how to stop those his story is going to inspire." I state looking back at the class Will studies the picture, taking stock of the happy Abigail before -- CLICK: Cassie, splayed across the rack of a stag, jumps onto the overhead screen.  "He's already got one admirer." Will says Alana enters as the Trainees file out of the classroom. Will and I are actively avoiding eye-contact with the students filing out, but somehow immediately noticing Alana's arrival. "Hi." says Will, placing his hand over mine hesitantly "How are you, two?" Alana asks  "I have no idea." will responds smiling and chuckling, i chuckle along nodding in agreement "That may change. I didn't want you to be ambushed --" Alana says in a apologetic tone, "Is this an ambush?" i ask, and Will grips my hand a little bit tighter than he was before. "Ambush is later. Immediately later, soon to now. When Jack arrives consider yourself ambushed." Alana says Quickly, and Jack Crawford ENTERS, navigating the last of the Trainees. "Here's Jack." Will says as he nods to over Alana's shoulder "How was class?" Jack asks the Two of us as he stares down Alana. "They applauded, it was inappropriate." Will states, I nod agreeing with him "Review board begs to differ. You're up for a commendation and they okayed active return to the field." Jack says to Will, I look over at Will as he takes this in, between pleased and apprehensive. "Question is... do you want to go back in the field." Alana  asks Will, "I want you to go back in the field, but I told the Board I'm recommending a psych evaluation. For both of you."Jack says looking at both of us. Will glances to Alana, who apologizes with a look. "Are we starting now?" I ask eyeing Alana "Oh, the session wouldn't be with me." Alana says with wide eyes, i tilt my head confused "Hannibal Lecter's a better fit. Your relationship's not as personal. But if you'd be more comfortable with Dr. Bloom--" Jack says, I roll my eyes I'm not gonna be happy or comfortable with anybody picking around my brain and I'm sure Will feels the same. "I'm not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head." Will says tightening his grip on my hand I squeeze him back to comfort him. "You've never killed someone before, Will. And you have never had someone almost die in your arms, Y/N. It's a deadly force encounter. It's a lot to digest." Alana says looking at our hands "I used to work homicide. I've got a good metabolism." Will states annoyed, Jack takes a step forward, and i take a step back which left me slightly leaning on Will, and Will's hand now on my forearm. "Reason you currently "used to" work homicide is you couldn't stomach pulling the trigger. You just pulled the trigger ten times. And you went into psychiatry after almost having a panic attack about a child in your care when you worked in the E.R, You just almost had a girl die in your arms." Jack says pointedly at both of us "So Psych Eval's not a formality?" i ask jack shakes his head, will and i grab our stuff and start leaving but jack stops us. "It's so I can sleep. I asked you to get close to Hobbs and I need to know that the two of you didn't get too close. How many times have you spent the night in Abigail Hobbs' hospital room?" Jack asks us, Me and Will look down giving jack his answer "Therapy doesn't work on me." Will says  looking up at me , i give him a comforting smile. "'Cause you won't let it." jack responds to Will, i roll my eyes once again "Jack I'm a psychiatrist, and Will has a degree in Psychology. We know all the tricks." i say looking fed up with the conversation. "Un-learn some tricks." Jack says, and walks out of the lecture hall. Alana turns to me and Will"Why not have a conversation with Hannibal. He was there. He knows what you Two went through."  Alana offers, Will  and I bristle. Alana offers us a supportive smile.HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - WAITING ROOM - EVENING - The door OPENS and Hannibal speaks to his next patient: "Good evening. Please come in." Will Graham and Y/N L/N sit inscrutably, waiting. Hannibal Lecter in his office, a prescient smile tickling the corners of his mouth as he sits with Will And I. Hannibal slides 2 pieces of high-quality stationary across the table. "What's this?" Will asks eyeing the paper  " Both of Your Psychological Evaluations. You're totally functional and more or less sane. Well done." Hannibal states with a smile "Did you just rubber stamp Us?" I ask Hannibal smiling, Will is climbing the ladder to Hannibal's library. "Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn't break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork."Hannibal says in a disregarded tone. Will studies Hannibal a moment, then: "Jack thinks We need therapy." Will says in a distasteful tone. "What you two need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there." Hannibal says as he helps me up the ladder and into Will's hands to pull me up. The simplicity of that strikes Me. "Last time he sent Us into a dark place We brought something back" i say while pulling a book off the shelf and look at the cover. "A surrogate daughter?" Hannibal says watching Me and Wills every move, I debate arguing the suggestion,but decide not too. "You saved Abigail Hobbs' life Y/N.  And You Will orphaned her while trying to save her. It comes with certain emotional obligations, regardless of empathy disorders." Hannibal says "You were there. You saved her life, too. Do you feel obligated?" Will asks in a questioning and sarcastic tone. "I feel a staggering amount of obligation. I feel responsibility. I've fantasized about scenarios where my actions may have allowed a different fate for Abigail Hobbs." Hannibal says in an almost fatherly tone, Will and I study Hannibal, feeling a sense of camaraderie. "Jack thinks Abigail Hobbs might've helped her dad kill those girls." I say in a disgusted tone. A long silence, then: "How does that make you feel?" Hannibal asks, with a face i cannot read. "How does it make you feel?" will says in a questioning and almost laughable tone, he passes behind me and his hand graces my arm sending butterflies in my stomach. "I find it vulgar." Hannibal replies in a disgusted tone "Me, too." Will agrees, i also find it vulgar. "And entirely possible." Hannibal suggests, i shake my head "It's not what happened." i say in a defensive and almost maternal tone "Jack will ask her when she wakes up or he'll have one of us ask her." Hannibal says, eyeing my body language. "Is this therapy or a support group?" Will asks almost laughing "It's whatever you Two need it to be. Will, Y/N, the mirrors in your minds can reflect the best of yourselves and not the worst of someone else."  Hannibal tells us A moment as that sinks in. FBI SHOOTING RANGE - QUANTICO, VA -- NEXT DAY - BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! shots of a gun ring out it's being fired by Will.  Will blasts away once more at his target. He returns the target from down-range, unhappy with his accuracy but pleased he's not seeing Hobbs. He doesn't notice the arrival of: Beverly and I "I'm pretty sure firearm "accuracy" isn't a prerequisite for teaching." Beverly calls out. Will finds Beverly and I behind him, looking on. I smile Kindly at Will. "I've been in the field before." Will says in response "Now you're back in the saddle. Ish." Beverly says happily, "Ish, indeed. It took me ten shots to drop Hobbs."Will says as he turns back to the target; his bullet holes are all over the place. "Zeller wanted to give you the bullets he pulled out of Hobbs in an acrylic case, but I told him you wouldn't think it was funny." Beverly says jokingly  "Probably not." Will laughs He throws a fresh target on the clips, sends it down range. "I suggested one of those clacking swinging ball things." i say smirking, and Will looks back at me and smirks "Now that would have been funny." He fires and misses the target entirely. "your a Weaver"Beverly points out, "I have a rotator-cuff issue, so I have to use the Weaver stance." Will says as He assumes the position, demonstrating. I study him. I put a hand on his right shoulder, pressing down gently. "You are tight." i say applying pressure to the tense area gently. "I got stabbed when I was a cop." He responds shivering at my touch, "I got stabbed in the third grade. With a number 2 pencil. Thought I was going to get lead poisoning." beverly says behind us "No lead in a pencil. Graphite." Will retorts "Now you tell me." Beverly laughs, I reach around and flare out his left elbow instead. "See if that helps with the recoil." i say taking a step back putting my ear muffs back on smiling. Will exhales and BLAM! BLAM-BLAM-BLAM! He drills the target in a much tighter cluster. Beverly returns the target. "It's better. You come all the way down here to teach me how to shoot?" Will say turning around and looking at us, "No, Jack sent us down here to find out what you know about gardening." Beverly says smirking FOREST - DAY Pleurotus Nidiformis to be exact, its stem sprouting from a quilt-work of moist SOIL and DECAYING MATTER. Suddenly, the soil and decay (along with the mushroom) are parted to expose the broken-down, yet unmistakable features of a HUMAN FACE.  the face belongs to a naked MAN being pulled from the ground by EMERGENCY MEDICAL TECHNICIANS. Not that his nakedness is an issue, as most of the man's body is covered in a morbidly vibrant kingdom of fungus and mold. The EMT's place a BODY-BAGGED BODY on a gurney and wheel him towards an AMBULANCE, leaving FIVE MORE OCCUPIED BODY BAGS waiting for transport. As they pass Will, Y/N and Jack slipping under the police tape cordoning off the area. "Lecter gave you Two the "all clear." Maybe therapy does work on you." Jack says talking to me and Will but mainly to Will, "Therapy is an acquired taste I have yet to acquire but sure served your purpose. I'm back in the field."Will response smiling bitter-sweetly, Jack eyes Will feeling the dismissal of his Psych Eval."Local police found more small animal traps in the surrounding woods. They even discovered a thirty gallon drum of pesticide hidden in a hollow tree along with a rusted Radio Flyer wagon." Jack says briefing us, "Didn't want his "crop" disturbed." i say eyeing the garden graves, "All that's missing is a scarecrow." Jack says in a disturbed tone. They approach Beverly, Zeller, and Jimmy Price. Behind them, the FBI'S CSI TEAM works to carefully unearth the three remaining buried victims from their shallow graves. "Seven bodies, various stages of decay, all very well fertilized."Jimmy states, Beverly reaches into a grave containing a partially uncovered, FUNGUS-RAVAGED CORPSE (its EYES, NOSE, and MOUTH covered in DUCT TAPE) and palms a handful of BLACK SOIL --much different than the brown clay walls of the grave. "He buried them in a high-nutrient compost. He was enthusiastically encouraging decomposition." Beverly says very knowledgeably, "Patient way to dispose of a body." Jimmy retorts tilting his head "They were buried alive with the intention of keeping them that way. At least for a little while." Zeller points out, "Long enough for the fungus to eat any distinguishing features and make it nearly impossible to tell how long they'd been in the ground." Jimmy suggests, Zellar points to a CATHETER in the victim's outstretched arm, which we now see is supported by a SECTION of REBAR. "Line and rebar were to administer intravenous fluids after burial. He was feeding them something.", Zeller says examining the body, I turn my head to look at him "No restraints? They weren't bound? Nothing to stop them crawling out?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowed and my head tilted, Jimmy shakes his head "Just dirt." he says as Beverly pulls a tiny brush from the kit on her belt. She clears the debris from under the corpse's nose and pulls back the duct tape revealing a breathing tube jammed into its nostrils. "The other end of the air supply system comes up over there." Beverly points in the direction. I turn to find a small umbrella in the grass. Pulling on a rubber glove, I pick up the umbrella to find an exposed piece of tubing sticking out of the ground. "It isn't a very considerate clean air solution, which clearly wasn't a priority. Cause he's not lazy." I say examining the way the living dead garden was getting oxygen."No, he's not." Will says as he stares at the corpse in the garden grave. "Let's clear the scene. "Jack says as he herds Zeller, Price, and Beverly, along with straggling E.M.T.s and LOCAL POLICE out of the clearing and back into the surrounding woods, away from Will, Y/N, and the graves. they take a deep, calming breath, exhale, and close their eyes. A PENDULUM It swings in the darkness of Will's mind, keeping rhythm with his heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. All sound is muffled then buried beneath the ORGANIC HUM of his CIRCULATORY SYSTEM. FWUM. FWUM. The FUNGUS SHRINKS in a stylistic device, REWINDING Will to a time before the last burial. FWUM. His eyes are closed. FWUM. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings in front of Will and the EXHUMED GARDEN GRAVES are now a small field of BURLAP SACK COVERED ARMS -- save for ONE OPEN GRAVE. Next to the grave is the RADIO FLYER WAGON overflowing with moist, BLACK DIRT. FWUM. Will Graham opens his eyes and walks BACKWARDS toward the edge of the clearing and into the surrounding woods. FWUM. FWUM. The PENDULUM STOPS SWINGING, snapping into place as Will snaps into a very clear FOCUS. Will digs the shovel into the moist, black dirt.  to reveal Will is now standing over a NAKED MAN lying on his back in a shallow open grave. Will speaks as he shoves an OXYGEN TUBE into the man's nose, then covers his eyes and mouth with DUCT-TAPED, then tethers his to a piece of REBAR, fixing the catheter in place."I choose this man. I do not bind his arm or legs as I bury him in a shallow grave. He is alive but will never be conscious again." Will monologues, Climbing out, Will shovels a load of compost from the wagon and holds it over the man, preparing to dump it on him. Will dumps the dirt into the grave, covering the man. Will turns away to get more dirt from the Radio Flyer wagon."He won't know he's dying. I don't need him to. This is my design." Will continues monolougeing However, when Will turns back to the grave, he stops cold.  GARRET JACOB HOBBS is now lying in the grave leering up at him. ALL SOUND ABRUPTLY DROPS OUT as Will stares, caught in a vacuum unable to breath. He squeezes his eyes shut, jagged breath threaten hyperventilation. Will focuses and finally opens his eyes, looking back into the open grave. There is NO GARRET JACOB HOBBS. Only a man's body covered in morbidly vibrant FUNGUS AND MOLDS. Will breaths a sigh of relief, relieved to be alone with the dead. Then SNATCH! The FUNGUS COVERED ARM GRABS Will by the wrist, a rattled, wet gasp signals a sharp in-take of air. "HE'S STILL ALIVE!" Terrified, Will SCREAMS in abject horror. I kneel down next to Will and grasp his arm pulling him away from the living corpse. He looks at me and is breathing heavily, "what did you see?" i ask him quietly my hand still on his arm. Will shakes his head "Hobbs" he whispers, i nod and we stand up going over to the car to calm down.FBI HEADQUARTERS - EXAMINATION ROOM -  NEXT DAY - Brian Zeller and  Jimmy Price  hover wearing gloves, aprons, and splash shields. "What has he been soaking in?" Will asks coming into the room with two coffees in hand, "A highly concentrated mixture of hardwoods, shredded newspaper, and pig poop. Perfect for growing mushrooms and other fungi." Jimmy responds looking up at Will, "Wasn't the mushrooms though. what they all died of was kidney failure." Zeller says as he covers the victim. Behind him, the other victims lie on tables of their own, each covered by a sheet."Dextrose in all the catheters. He probably used some kind of dialysis or peristaltic to pump fluids after the circulatory systems broke down." Beverly says as she hands  Zeller a clip board "Force-feeding them sugar water." I question looking at Will and raising my eyebrow, "You know who loves sugar water? Mushrooms. They crave it. As much as a mushroom can crave anything." Jimmy says looking at Me and Will. ""Recovering alcoholics crave sugar. Don't take that personally Buddy." Zeller says jokingly looking over at Jimmy. "Oh I'm not recovering." Jimmy remarks sassily rolling his eyes. "Feed sugar to fungus in your body, the fungus makes alcohol. It's friends helping friends really." Zeller continues. "Alcoholics aren't the only ones with compromised endocrine systems." Will points out and i have a thought, They are all diabetic and he's inducing diabetic comas"They all died of kidney failure? Death by diabetic ketoacidosis?" I offer, "Did you know they were diabetics?" Beverly asks looking at Zeller incredulously, "We don't know they're diabetics." Zeller says rolling his eyes, "They're all diabetics. He induces a coma and puts them in the ground." I say continuing my thought, as Will passing me a coffee, i smile "thank you" i say quietly Will smiles back, Beverly loves watching Will and Y/N work, especially together, barely suppressing a smile."How is he inducing diabetic comas?" Beverly asks tilting her head"He changes their medication. He's a doctor or a pharmacist or works somewhere in medical services." Will says joining my thought process, "He buries them, feeds them sugar to keep them alive long enough for the circulatory systems to soak it up." Beverly says catching on to what me and Will are saying "So he can feed the mushrooms." Jimmy figures it out, i take a sip of my coffee, damn this is good, "We dug up his mushroom garden." Zeller says looking down. "He'll want to grow a new one." Will says walking out. PHARMACY - NIGHT a calm, ordinary Big Box Pharmacy. Despite the vehicles in the parking lot, the storefront is strangely quiet, deserted. After a moment, there's a small flurry of movement... armed, dark-clad figures creeping in swiftly and silently, moving along the outside of the building, weaving through parked cars, taking up positions. Y/N, Will and Jack stride  as they approach the main doors of the Pharmacy like regular customers. "She's the eighth diabetic customer of the chain to disappear after filling an insulin prescription, second from this exact location." Jack says as we walk hastily "The other seven?" I ask looking over at Jack "All over the county. One pharmacist has been all over the county, too." Jack responds, I nod "A floater." Will says, as we walk through the store, "Floater's floating right here. Still logged into his work station." Jack says as he enters walking confidently toward the Pharmacy counter, Will  and I immediately behind him, as Plain clothes agents herd the last customers and cashiers out the door. Jack steps behind the counter and calmly walks inside, holding his badge very clearly in front of him, instructing the six pharmacists:"Everyone. Stop what you're doing and put your hands in the air." The six pharmacists do as instructed, realizing there are MANY F.B.I. AGENTS pointing guns at them across the counter."Special Agent Jack Crawford. Which one of you is Eldon Stammets?" Jack introduces himself, "Eldon was just here. Just now." one of the pharmacists responds looking around with his hands in the air. Jack signals the F.B.I. AGENTS and they fan out."His car still in the parking lot?" Will asks i look at him. PHARMACY - PARKING LOT - NIGHT - ON the swing of a baton as Will smashes the driver side window of Eldon's car. He reaches in, POPS THE TRUNK and --With an grating CREAK, I lift the trunk the rest of the way open - REVEALING it is completely filled with RICH, DARK SOIL. There's a fleeting recoil as Will, Jack Crawford, and Caroline are hit with the stench released from the compartment.  Y/N recovers, shoveling arms-full of dirt."She's in here!" I yell as i  quickly uncover an unconscious, naked Gretchen Speck, an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose."E.M.T.s now!" Jack yells Will and I step away from the trunk as the E.M.T.s move in. we watch as Gretchen Speck is loaded into the back of an Ambulance by Paramedics."We know his name. We know where he lives. We have his car. We'll have him within 24 hours." Jack says reassuring us and himself Jimmy Price approaches Jack, Will, and I with some trepidation."Jack. We just checked browser history at Stammets' work station." Jimmy says nervously, "Do I want to hear this?" Jack says angrily, I assume he's angry because Stammets got away. "No. And yes. But mostly no."  Jimmy stammers PHARMACY - WORK STATION - NIGHT - Jack pulls up the internet browser to reveal a FULL SCREEN SHOT of WILL and Y/N standing in the FOREST CRIME SCENE, heads hung low. The headline reads “TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE.” Zeller, Price and Katz are gathered around the monitor with Jack.“The FBI isn’t just hunting psychopaths, they’re head-hunting them, too, offering competitive pay and benefits in the hopes of using Two demented minds to catch an-- She goes into a lot of detail." Beverly reads the screen "Son-of-a-bitch." Jack says hitting the pharmacy counter with his fist in anger. I look down at the floor, and Will grabs my arm and squeezes it as a sign of comfort. JOHNS HOPKINS HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL’S ROOM - NIGHT - Will sits silently in his chair considering unconscious Abigail Hobbs, comatose in her hospital bed. CLICK-CLUCK- CLICK-CLUCK, the haunting sound of hooves approaching. Will looks up to see a glimpse of the BLACK STAG walking past Abigail's doorway. We are in a DREAM STATE. JOHNS HOPKINS - ABIGAIL'S ROOM - NIGHT 3 - REALITY - Will is sound asleep in his chair, feet propped up on an ottoman. There's a CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK of approaching footsteps as I enter the room. I watch Will sleep a brief moment smiling, then slip a shoe off one foot, gently as to not disturb him. He doesn't stir. I slip off the other shoe, quietly putting them aside. I smile at the sleeping figure of the exhausted man and place  A blanket over him. I walk over and sit on the side of Abigail's bed and begin to read. JOHNS HOPKINS HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - NIGHT 3 - DREAM STATE - Will steps into the empty corridor. There are no nurses at the Nurse's Station, no Doctors nor patients in the hall. A FAINT, EERIE WHISPER beneath the silence, barely audible. Will stops when he sees an ENCROACHING DARKNESS at the end of the hall that ENVELOPES the corridor and washes over Will like a midnight wave of deep, dreaded sleep. JOHNS HOPKINS - ABIGAIL'S ROOM - NIGHT  - REALITY - Will opens his eyes to see Y/N sitting on the edge of Abigail's bed, laying next to her, reading softly. He realizes he's been covered with a blanket and likes it. "What are you reading?" Will says as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes "Flannery O'Connor. When I was Abigail's age I was obsessed. I even tried to raise peacocks because she raised peacocks, but they're really stupid birds." i say as i smile looking over at Will "You could be reading to a killer." Will says, "Innocent until guilty and all that." i say quietly as i gaze over at the comatose teenage girl. "I don't think we've ever been in a room alone together. At least not outside the bureau or on a case. Have We?" Will wonders, "I haven't noticed. Have we? Not that we're necessarily alone now." I smile at him with a light blush i can feel creeping onto my cheeks. "yeah right. Back to Jack Crawford's crime gimp." Will says as he sits up,"I couldn't believe she wrote that." i say rolling my eyes. "It's kind of hilarious." Will says with a chuckle and i laugh along with him. "Certainly creates an image. I don't need to talk about it if you don't." I smile, with that same faint blush still on my cheeks, "We can talk about or not talk about whatever you want. Honestly, I was enjoying listening to you read." Will says smiling and gazing fondly at me, I blush a little deeper and smile back. "Abigail Hobbs is a success for Us." I say gazing back fondly, "She doesn't look like a success." Will says in a good natured tone, "Don't feel sorry for yourself because we saved this girl's life Will." i smile at Abigail "I don't. I don't feel sorry for myself at all. I feel- good." Will admits smiling  There’s a long pregnant pause as Will soaks in the admission, relishing it for himself, questioning it. JOHNS HOPKINS HOSPITAL - CORRIDOR - DAY- Eldon Stammets emerges from a door labeled MENS ROOM, strolling down the corridor now wearing GREEN SCRUBS. He nonchalantly grabs a parked gurney in the hall, pushing it toward an ELEVATOR and disappearing inside. The elevator doors open and instead of seeing Eldon Stammets, it's Will Graham and Dr. Y/N L/N. Wills phone RINGS as They are stepping out. He answers. "Hello. Yes we are." Will responds looking over at me. A moment as Will listens, then his expression falls. He jams his cell phone into his pocket  grabs Y/N's hand and runs. ANOTHER CORRIDOR Will and Y/N sprint down the hall toward Abigail's room, navigating patients and nurses in their mad dash. Will and Y/N halt outside the door. Reaching into his trousers for his revolver, he takes a measured step into the room... JOHNS HOPKINS HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS -Will finds it empty. No Eldon Stammets. No Abigail Hobbs. Will's mind races as he backs into the hallway, snatching the elbow of a passing NURSE and demanding:"Where is she? Abigail Hobbs. The girl in this room. Where is she?" I say in a serious yet panicked tone "They took her for tests." The nurse says frightened "Who took her? Who took her?" Will shouts worriedly the Nurse stammers, but Will and I are already running for the stairs. JOHN HOPKINS HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - DAY - Will  and I bound down the stairs, several steps at a time. Eldon Stammets calmly pushes the gurney carrying COMATOSE ABIGAIL HOBBS. At the other end of the Hallway -- The STAIRWELL DOOR suddenly OPENS, and a winded Will Graham and Dr. Y/N L/N rushes out. Eldon startles, moves. Will raises his gun and SHOOTS. BLAM! The bullet takes out a piece of Eldon Stammets shoulder, violently propelling him backwards, his gun clattering to the floor as he reached for it. I pull Abigail's gurney into the hall, moving in on Eldon, kicking his gun out of reach. Will looks down at Eldon, who is in a state of shock. "What were you going to do with her?" Will shouts as i check Abigail over for any signs of injuries "We all evolved from mycelium. Only reintroducing her to the concept." Stammets says breathing heavily,  "By burying her alive?" i say angrily looking up protectively, "That journalist said you both understood me." he says looking up at us confused "We don't." Will says almost snarling "Well You would have. you would have. Walk into a field of mycelium, they know you're there, they know you are there. Their spores reach for you when you pass by. I know who you're reaching for. I know. Abigail Hobbs. You should have let me plant her. You would have found her in a field where she could finally reach back." Stammets stammers,  Will  and I stare at Eldon a moment as the CLAMOR of approaching footsteps, no doubt investigating gunfire, approach, then: Will taps the EMERGENCY STOP BUTTON and leans in the doorway as a BUSTLE OF COPS, NURSES and PARAMEDICS approach.