#can it make decisions for itself outside of Alastor?

[allastoredeer]

How independent do you think Alastor's shadow actually is?

It's seems pretty independent in the show. It's still attached to him, and is very much a part of him, obviously, but we've also seen it move around a lot on its own, of its own free will (unless Alastor is mentally directing it where to go, which seems like a lot of work), but overall, it looks like it's doing its own thing most of the time, so long as its in Alastor's proximity.

In my personal fanon, Alastor's shadow is also quite independent.

For me, Alastor's shadow is more honest about Alastor's feeling than he is. It slips up and reveals his true emotions if anyone is fast enough to catch it.

I didn't expect for his shadow to be so sassy when I was writing it, but now that's all I can think about it being LOL. If it could talk, I have a feeling it'd give a lot of sass, not just to Alastor, but everyone. It also just comes off as very goofy to me. Its a very silly little shadow.

But I also think its VERY much connected to Alastor. It's still a facet of himself. It's still HIM. Just a looser, more independent part of himself with a touch more sentience than you'd expect XD

[revui]

levi rambles about her fantasy project again

one of the funniest things about the story to me is how, with over a dozen main characters, not a single one of them wants to be a protagonist. even the ones who you think would be egocentric enough to want that or think they're the main character of life are all fucking horrified the moment where they realize that the story is about them. it's not about the person they pretend to be, it's not about the person everyone perceives them as, it's just about them.

harker grew up with little knowledge of the world outside the forest and based his entire understanding of it off the stories he read, and when he compares himself to the heroes he read about, he feels fundamentally unqualified to fill that role.

miranda is desperate for people to like her but when she realizes she's the only one willing to do what needs to be done and that it might make a lot of people hate her, she curses the position she's in even though she previously would've loved to be the center of a grand story.

ignatia genuinely just wants to live uneventfully. she loves order, organization, and control. she doesn't care about the rest of the world so long as her little piece of it is fully within her control, and the narrative basically has to kick in her bedroom door and drag her out kicking and screaming the whole way.

quin fully accepts that the story is about the girl he's next to. she's the bold one, the skilled one, the strong one, and the decisive one. she knows exactly what she wants and how she wants to get there, or at least, that's how she seems. quin is content going along with whatever she does because she's so obviously the main character that it terrifies him when he realizes he has to start making his own choices, acting on his own feelings and beliefs rather than relying on her perceived infallibility.

kassandra already starts the story feeling like a fraud because she literally is, she was put in charge of a cult a year ago and has been lying about being their god the whole time when their actual god is standing two feet away doing drugs. she talks a big game but feels genuinely unworthy of almost everything and eventually tries to run away from the narrative spotlight to let it shine on someone else because she thinks they're more worthy of main character status.

azar is maybe the only one who notices that she's the main character and responds by going "maybe this won't be so bad" but then she starts fucking up left and right and tries to give main character status to literally anyone else because this shit STINKS and she doesn't want it anymore. unfortunately that's not how it works.

tessera basically doesn't even want to do anything with her (after)life but party. she hates responsibility. she hates having to care about things. she hates the entire spectrum of human emotion aside from 'ecstasy.' like kassandra she tries to run away. unlike kassandra, tessera is unable to die because she already did that. and the narrative has now forced her into a position where she will be miserable if she doesn't start being the protagonist. she basically spends the whole thing trying to fist fight the story itself. and losing.

alastor used to want to be the main character but then shit went sideways and he got cursed. so he's now thinking that he would really like to go back to that 'normal life' stuff, please and thank you, but then the narrative digs its teeth into him and he realizes that if he doesn't take the path the story gives him, there is nowhere else for him to go.

hyacinth is another character content with being generally unremarkable. her satisfaction comes from magical mastery. she's fine so long as she can keep working on her necromancy, and this leads to her making a deal with a ghost so she can further her studies. it takes her until the moment she fails to hold up her end of the deal and gets her body possessed that she realizes maybe the story was about her and she should've been a lot more careful up to this point.

skyler is beyond trying to fist fight the story itself. she's trying to kill me in real life. she's basically clawing her way through every page trying to reach my throat. moving on.

lilith is the only character who actually likes being the protagonist but this lasts like 5 minutes because she's quick to learn that being the narrative's favorite is not a good thing. in typical lilith fashion, she basically smashes her way through the story with a hammer, because that is the only way she knows how to solve problems, and the moment that stops working, she becomes hysterical.

pippin doesn't even believe the story is about him for a while. i mean, he's functionally god, or at least working with her, but as someone who was raised in a cult, he's of the opinion that the story would naturally be about his actual god and not her vessel. he's of the opinion that the story accidentally pointed the spotlight at him instead of god.

colum hates the idea of being a protagonist so much that he functionally fucking lobotomizes himself to remove all his knowledge of the narrative and the other central characters so the story won't get to him next. this does not work. it actually achieves the opposite. because while his attempt to run from the narrative is the most effective out of anyone's, it turns out that when the protagonist learns to run the story learns to sprint.

percy is so apathetic to the idea of being in a story that he doesn't even notice he's causing the majority of the plot by accident and he has to be told straight-up. and he still doesn't care. the story is all about him and when he realizes it he just continues to not care, so aggressively indifferent to every narrative dilemma until finally a tangible and incredibly personal reason to care is thrust in front of his face and he can't look away from it. and he's motivated by it but still righteously pissed off that he has to do any of this.

delilah, at this point, has witnessed what The Narrative does to people. and she is quite convinced by now that it would never turn to her. she's generally quite docile and polite and takes care not to shake things up too much. she doesn't think of herself as being in any particularly special position. she's so passive that she almost feels like a background character in her own life, someone who may be competent at a few things but not in any area that matters for a real hero. so when she finds herself being nudged further and further into this disaster of a story, she begins to actively resist someone for the very first time—me. not even the antagonist. she's the only other character who is directly trying to defy the author.

and then, finally, there's veerabelle. as the last protagonist in the story, she's watched what everyone else has gone through, and unlike delilah, she knows she's next. she's been waiting for it, dreading it the whole time, and she even goes so far as to use magic to discover how the story will play out because she knows it's coming and just wants to be able to brace. she pushes herself through the whole thing, every awful and inevitable event, and tries to believe that she can make a happy ending for everyone at the end of all this. she swears it, to her friends, to the audience, that she will find a way to make everything work out.

and she does. and the story is over. and they can all finally leave. no more narrative. just nap time.

[concubuck]

Obstetrician Appointment

A succubus walks into the examination room and offers her hand. "Hi—Alastor, right? I'm Dr. Kandi Stripper, nice to meet you."

He shakes and says, "A pleasure," before the name registers and he does a double-take at her name tag.

She nods. "Yeah, I know."

"... Right." Alastor clears his throat. "Doctor, pardon me if this is presumptuous, but it's been an issue with every other doctor I've ever had down here so I think it's worth stating: to be clear, I am here for medical treatment, not for some sort of hospital fetish roleplay."

Dr. Stripper waves him off as she sits. "Oh no no I get it. I became a doctor because I couldn't get a gynecological exam in Pride without them making it weird. Inside the exam room, it's totally professional."

Alastor lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

"But outside the exam room, I'm free for lunch after this if you're interested."

Alastor shrugs. "Fine, I don't have anyone lined up today." That's succubus culture.

She flips through his medical file. "So! Just about nineteen weeks along, are we? I've got to say—that's some extremely skilled shapeshifting, for you to not just conceive but maintain a pregnancy that long."

He gives her a wan smile. "All that—and by accident, too."

They discuss his options. Keeping the baby is not on his list. His first preference is to find its true father—if he can—and offer it over. If the father is disinterested or can't be located, he'll either offer it for adoption or terminate the pregnancy, he hasn't decided which. He likes the idea of some imp couple getting to have a child—but he really, really likes the idea of not having a baby. They agree he should defer the decision until after making an effort to find the father.

They discuss the options for a paternity test. As Alastor worried, a genetic test in and of itself won't do any good without a potential father to match the genes against; but they can have the genes on file in case Alastor turns up some suspects later, and they might even help him narrow down his search pool.

There are three possibilities for the father: either he's a demon; he's a damned sinner; or he's a living human. Of the three, Alastor's slept with far more sinners than anything else, so he's going to have the hardest search there—but they're also the least fertile group.

It's commonly believed that sinners are completely infertile—and with each other and most demons, they are—but succubi are the exception. Succubi are designed to pop out fresh demons to bolster Hell's population, and to corrupt humanity, and to breed with the dead—whether that meant sucking the sperm out of a corpse or riding the damned.

What is true is that sinners can't start families—which most of them interpret to mean they can't reproduce at all. The truth is much more literal. Sinners can screw with succubi, and their coupling can create a child—a cambion—but that child isn't part of the sinner's family. A cambion might be the offspring of a demon and a human, but it's not a half-human half-demon hybrid. There's no such thing. A creature can't have half a human soul: it either has a soul, or it doesn't. A cambion doesn't. It's like mistletoe, a parasite growing on its human parent's family tree.

But, in Alastor's opinion, even parasitically growing on a human's family tree is better than not being properly attached to a tree at all—so he'd still rather give the child to a human father over an adoptive imp couple.

Genetic testing will determine whether the baby is a succubus or a cambion—and thus, whether the father is demon or human. If human, the testing might also turn up some hereditary genetic mutations that, if present, would indicate the father has been dead a while. And of course it can help identify some genetic disorders, which is typically what prenatal genetic testing is for.

"Do you know whether you have any genetic disorders in your family medical history?" Dr. Stripper asks. "These include..."

Alastor waves off the question before she can start listing conditions. "I don't have a family medical history."

This far into Alastor's pregnancy, the less invasive genetic testing options are no longer available. Dr. Stripper informs him that the one option available right now does have a small risk of miscarriage; Alastor informs her that he'd consider himself too fortunate if the choice were taken from his hands so neatly. . 

They talk about his birth control—or apparent lack thereof. "I still don't understand it," Alastor says irritably. "This shouldn't be possible. For goodness's sake, I'm on six forms of birth control—"

"According to your medical records, one of them's to block your sperm," Dr. Stripper says. "It won't stop you from getting pregnant, just from getting other people pregnant.

"Five relevant forms of birth control."

"And you're scheduled to take a shot every three months," she adds. "According to your records, your latest one was almost four months ago and before that it was five months?"

Alastor winces. "I keep meaning to schedule it, but..."

"It's not helping you after three months."

"Fine, four forms of birth control."

"And you should have a vaginal ring that's switched out every five weeks? Have you been doing that reliably?"

Alastor winces harder. "Three forms. But I'm only supposed to need one, aren't I? How did it get past all of them?"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

One of the three is a temporary magic tattoo inside his vaginal canal that should be five months into its eight month life; the other two are a five-year surgical implant and a ten-year copper IUD that are just over three years old each. The latter two are more difficult to check, but Dr. Stripper checks for the tattoo. When she informs him, baffled, that there's only a few faint traces of ink left, as though the tattoo has expired months ago, Alastor is horrified—but he's not surprised.

"I suppose we'll find the other two have magically vanished as well, won't we," he mutters.

"Well, the IUD's still in there."

"How do you know?"

Dr. Stripper opens Alastor's file, flips through several sonogram printouts, holds out one, and points at one lumpy arm. "Do you see that?"

Alastor's stomach flips at the memory of the ultrasound, but he leans forward to look. For a moment, bizarrely, he thinks the baby is clutching a cross against its chest like a horror movie protagonist trying to ward off a vampire; but then he realizes the object clutched in its tiny fingers is T shaped. "Is that..."

"There's your IUD."

"The... the thing that's supposed to be sterilizing sperm just by existing in me?"

"Yep."

Alastor says, "How—" He stops. He says, "Wh—" He stops again. He lays down on the examination table and stares at the ceiling.

Dr. Stripper says, "Genuinely I don't know how this is biologically possible."

"The nerve of this kid. Clutching it like a scepter," Alastor mutters. "He's got some balls, doesn't he?"

Dr. Stripper shakes her head. "No, those don't develop until week 33."

Considering how steeped Alastor is in high-level supernatural powers, they both suspect that the birth control methods that weren't undone by irresponsible scheduling must have been undone by magic, whether his own or a partner's. Dr. Stripper says she'll look for precedents before Alastor's next appointment.

And, finally, they talk about recommended lifestyle changes for as long as Alastor's undecided about whether to carry the baby to term. It's the same list he got from Dr. Neid with a few additions: diet, prenatal supplements, recommended sex positions and acts, safe and unsafe shapeshifting techniques, limited caffeine... and alcohol.

"Ah. This." Alastor lets out a long sigh designed to convey that he will, at best, merely endure the topic, and certainly won't listen to it.

"Your regular doctor has a note in here that you refuse to discuss your drinking habits?"

"I'm not changing them at this time. I understand the health consequences, I know what addiction is, and I'm aware the my habits are... excessive. But I have no desire to reduce my drinking, and even less to detox."

"Can I ask why?"

He presses his lips together tightly, regarding Dr. Stripper suspiciously. This feels like a trap. But, reluctantly, he speaks: "I... don't—get along with my libido. I can't tolerate the demands it makes on me. I only need it about three times times a day, so there are absolutely no medical options to try to lower it; the only help I have available is whiskey dick." He can see her face starting to twist in confusion, looking for the sense in his explanation; he's sure that to a succubus, he must sound like he's declared he's decided to slowly starve himself because pooping every three days is just too frequent for his tastes.

He shakes his head. "It's a matter for my primary doctor and I. You don't have to understand it, just—accept it. Anyway, I'm a freelancer; I can't afford to take the time off to detox again."

"'Again'? Have you tried to get sober before?"

"I was sober. I detoxed in the eighties and spent a decade and a half sober." A corner of his mouth quirks up wryly. "My libido was lower then."

"And you don't want to go through the withdrawal again. What was it like for you?"

Alastor closes his eyes and tries to remember. So much of his human memories are gone or blurry, and his withdrawal is no different. The strongest memory he has is that it was miserable. "I was horribly sick. Shaking, vomiting, constant sweating—I think I hallucinated. I might have had a heart attack, I'm not sure now." (He opens his eyes and gets some slight pleasure out of seeing her expression while his own expression remains neutral.) "I was probably delirious for a couple of days, at least. I felt like I was dying continuously, for... I think it was almost a week. Couldn't sleep for much longer." He lets out a short huff. "Can't say I cared for the experience!"

"I wouldn't either." Dr. Stripper gestures toward Alastor's abdomen. "Baby's gonna go through that when he's born."

Alastor's blood runs cold. "... Oh."

"Unless you plan to keep bottle-feeding him booze. But I don't really recommend it unless you're trying to raise him as a brain-damaged serial killer."

Alastor swallows the urge to get offended on behalf of serial killers. "I—see your point, doctor." Callous he may be; but even for his remarkably permissive stance on evil... forcing a newborn through detox seems like a just bit much. He thinks he'd probably be ashamed of that later. He's already got enough regrets, it might be nice to head one off before it starts.

However—however—on the other hand. He wants to keep drinking. And the baby would eventually get through withdrawal, right? And Alastor  doesn't know whether he can stop. The last time he got sober, he'd permitted Rosie to lock him up until he broke through the other side of his delirium. This time, not only is he no longer on speaking terms with Rosie, but he assumes withdrawal will be that much harder to fight through when he's alive—and carrying a second life.

If he can get a baby addicted... what other effect is he having on it? He might have already done the kind of damage only divine intervention can undo. Maybe it's too late for detoxing to actually do any good. Maybe aborting is a more merciful option. (Maybe it will be a relief if he can conclude aborting is the more merciful option.)

He hates all the options.

He says, "I'll take it under consideration."

Dr. Stripper has him take a few tests—a needle to take the sample needed for genetic testing, some more esoteric strips and patches to run some magical tests. 

He stays after the appointment for a quickie.

He's sent out with a pamphlet on something called "fetal alcohol syndrome" with the addresses of several detox centers, a booklet about adopting to imp couples, and a date early next week to discuss the results of his genetic testing.

[poison--ivory]

Uninviting Cataclysm (Alastor x Reader) Chapter 6

Warning: Homophobia and period typical racism

Part 1: link

Part 2: link

Part 3: link

Part 4: link

Part 5: link

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Alastor only saw red in that moment, his mind was taken over by a barrage of constant, annoying static noise filled his ears. Throbbing pain from his temple irritated him to no end, clutching at the spot to soothe the already splitting headache. Alastor couldn’t stop the numerous tremors exploding from his body, getting hit on the head by that bastard really set him into a state of shock, but quickly switched around into a state of fury. At this point he’ll be arriving at the party with grey hairs and crows feet.

    Struggling to stand up Alastor grasped at the wooden wall to catch himself from dropping to the hard floor. The only problem he had was seeing straight, getting hit on the temple would do that and he should know he did it to a lot of past victims before. They always had that far away look in their eyes whenever he struck them upside the head.

    His current prey at the moment bewildered him, taking her only a minute for her to grab one of his spare knives and luckily for him the dumb dora grabbed the blade instead and swung at him with the handle. No matter how idiotic it sounded it did bid her enough time to run up the stairs to the main house. She wouldn’t get far, he knew that much, since he figured that if she was skittish enough to only hit him with the handle she would try to hide instead of escaping. Alastor regained his composure promptly, with a slight provoked twitch of the eye, he leisurely strolled up the stairs taking notice of the front door. The lock was still intact and the two pennies he had between the door crevice were still tucked away nicely in place. The back door wasn’t tampered with either, the same type of coins shoved into the crevices haven’t moved an inch since placed there. Strolling back into the living room he noticed the turned up rug leading up to the second floor.

     Listening he could hear the light thumps of bare feet on hardwood coming from the second floor. Why the second floor? He questioned himself. She could’ve easily ran through the kitchen and into the backyard. Where she could have ran for help, which would be rather troubling for him that a white woman running in the slums of New Orleans clearly injured. Even if his reputation was good with the community it was still a man of color word against the word of a white woman. That would be a horrible outcome, considering he still had to finish his story and he was long from it being over just yet.

     But, instead she ran upstairs to where the only means of escape are the windows. Which in her state is a pretty dumb decision. He was so far in thought that it nearly slipped his mind that his mother is still resting on that same second floor of the house. And all caution flew straight from his mind as he bolted to the staircase, tripping on the first step and skipping three or four stairs just to get to his mother’s room.

     Long strides zeroed in on his mother’s bedroom door, opening the door swiftly and the old door squealed with a lowered howl. Doing a quick once over he glanced around the whole room, making sure that he didn’t cause too much noise to wake her. The comforting noise of his mother’s snores dimmed down his delusions in his head, but something lingered in the back of his brain once more. He tried to think of why he felt so paranoid, and then it struck him, he realized she never dropped that knife downstairs. On the contrary she still had that knife equipped on her. He should have brought a weapon, but brushed it off that she probably didn’t have much strength to hold the knife with her dominant hand. Now that he thought of it she was probably one of those people who can’t function right, without thinking about the situation as it’s happening. A loud and harsh thump from behind him caught him off guard, and he briskly turned around to search the room, eyes falling on the small frame crawling from under the bed. Her body trying to stand upright, but before she could pull the rest of her body out from under his mother’s bed, he grabbed her shoulder, his hold tight enough that she yelped in pain and dragged her out the room. Her cries of help fell on faint ears, but he couldn’t risk his mother waking up to her constant whining and so he threw the rest of her body out the door swiftly closing it behind him.

          “Leave. . .me alo-” A proper slamming of her head against the hallway table cut the rest of her screaming to mute itself. Her body curled up and she tried her damn hardest to crawl away from me. She was in such a state of shock that it was so effortless of a job of taking the knife she still closely held to her chest. He contemplated on killing her right then and there, nevertheless he decided on the ladder.

         “Now, miss your death would’ve been fast, but now I want to take my time with you.” He grinned, yanking her head to an angle that looked rather uncomfortable. “Hitting me on the head was one thing and I could’ve let it slide, however you fucked with my mama. She needs her sleep ya know, so it was very unkind of you to intrude on an old woman making all that unnecessary noise.” Dragging his hand on his face, pulling the skin from under his eyes to relieve some stress, but only getting more agitated. He reached for her ankle, dragging her back down the stairs and back into the basement, where he pushed her. Her back hit the stairs first, a cracking noise came with it and next was her arm, she landed on it when trying to catch herself. It bent at a weird angle and she screeched in agony, but nobody besides him would hear her. The neighbors at this time are usually outside singing, dancing or eating together which would be helpful in her case if she just ran outside like a sensible person in harm's way.

      She hit the bottom with a resounding thump, her body laying stiff at the end of the staircase. He knew that he would be terribly late to the party, which is something he would not be attending if it wasn’t for one particular person. His precious little dame, who’s been waiting for him to arrive over an hour ago. He figured he could have waited until next week to snuff the life of the “up and coming” song bird, but she just had to keep pushing his buttons. Her flirting was horrendous and her constant touching, on which he has to correct her on every time he’s near. But, now here he is dragging her unconscious body back to the slab of hard cement and pushing her dainty frame on the table, strapping her in tighter than earlier. The skin constricting with the restraints left them redden and will later bruise from all the thrashing she loves to do. By the time he was done with her straps, he noticed that she was still unconscious and from the look of it she wasn’t going to come out of it anytime soon.

      You know he could’ve left right then and there and he could be having a swell time at the party, but he just couldn’t risk the matter of her escaping again. She was far too close to his mother and he didn’t want to take that risk her health or life because his prey slipped from between his fingers. With that aim in order he decided to stay until she woke up and when she did rise from her wake, he was going to give her hell.

-----------------------

           “Al, can you hear me.” A small voice interrupts his train of thought from all the irritating events that took place tonight. “Did you hear me, Ally.”

    He masked his twitching eye with his signature, charming grin, but behind that masked smile he hated that nickname, ever since the school boys heard his mother use it. They called him a faggot and grinded his face into the concrete, he could still feel their filthy hands clutching his skin, leaving visible bruises the next day. His father wasn’t much better either, the day he saw those kids beating on him he took him hunting. Those seven days of hunting were just his father’s excuse to get him alone without his mom there. His father would hit him for missing a shot, gutting a fish wrong or for leaving his shoes inside the tent.

   A few too many kicks and slaps to the back of the head steered into a direction he regretted. His vision turned red on the third slap that day and what drove him to giving a square hit to his old man’s chin. His father stumbled, dazing off at the sky for a few seconds, before sluggishly dropping his head, his cold and empty eyes trained on his small frame. Following, soon after was a constant session of air trying to escape his throat and taking deep breaths before his esophagus closed up again. It took him over a full minute and half to pry off his father’s hand, afterward they went home, father coaching him not to say a damn thing to his mama.

   Groaning he sat straight upright,“I would like it if you didn’t call me that, dear.” a slight tone of annoyance very subtle in his voice. “What were you saying again, love.”

        “I was just thinking since you already met my family. Can I please meet your mother?” Big doe eyes peered up at him in the moonlight dimmed room.

   Meeting his mom was something he always thought about, but he keeps imaging her going into the basement or finding some of the bloody jars of organs in the downstairs freezer. But, he knows how to guilt trip, manipulate and lead her down the path that he wants that’s how he got her to stay with only him. He could easily handle (Y/n), she was very obeying even if she was a little hard headed and little too carefree for his taste.

   Her big eyes curiously gazed up at my face, and a quick flash of her face flickered in his mind caved in and mashed like a bowl of ground beef. He didn’t know why, but he thought of killing her in that moment, getting her out of his hair and not having to worry about a curious dame. But, he wanted to ride this out long enough to see where this ended, even if he does end up killing her later in life. At least he was the one to kill this young barecat before anyone else could even think of it.

        “Right now might not be a great time, she’s has a rather weak immune system and I can’t have her getting sick on me.” His hand ran through her tousled hair and gently caressed her cheek, his body heating up with the thought of her blood smearing these bed sheets. “Sorry, love.”

        “Well, if that's the case can I talk to her on the phone. This way I won’t get her sick and I get the chance to talk to your mama.” A sleepy smile graced her lips and heavy eyelids threaten to close any minute now. He could have said no, but why not this way he didn’t have to die of embarrassment from his mother showing her any unnecessary photos lying around. “So, can I baby?” At least she changed that annoying pet name.

        “Oh, fine.” An exasperated sigh left his body and gave a playful glare down at her. “But,only if I get a kiss first.”

  (Y/n) leisurely sat up and climbed in my lap, entangling our legs while at it. She softly puckered her lips and lightly pecked his cheek, lying her head on his chest soon after.

       “Tired, my dear.”

        “Mhmm.”

     He already knew the answer to that question, she won’t say it out loud, but he knew that she was feeling intense pain ever since that small spell he placed on her.

     Every time he felt such fierce hatred or anger she would feel this unbearable pain in her chest and he knows that sounds weird for putting a spell on a young bim he loves. Yet, he loved the facial expressions on her face when she’s in great pain. It brings him so much enthusiasm to know he’s giving her this unbearable agony. He especially finds it very amusing when she tries to cover it up, like in the boiler earlier. He was in a deep thought of that dumb dora he killed and was slowly getting more pissed by the second of just thinking about her and her stupidity of failing to escape. He didn’t even realize until he looked over at her that she was clutching at her dress very tightly, moving from side to side in her seat and asking him small questions from time to time. Well, that was just another side effect from the spell, needing the attention of the spellcaster's eyes on them to feel. . . “special” in a sort of way.

    This was just a quicker way of acquiring his lovely dame all to himself, manipulating her into a thoughtless little lady soon enough.

   Smirking to himself he raked his fingers down her hair and back before repeating the process. “Well, I hope you have a very peaceful rest my dear (Y/n).” She was already asleep by the time he said this, her slowed down breathing giving her away that she was past the state of early sleep. When she awoke the following morning she would most likely forget about this whole ordeal and would be too busy in her autopilot day to day lifestyle.

        “You’ll meet mother when she deems it right to finally see you. No need to rush it, you'll both meet soon enough.”

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 79

Good evening, my dear readers. It’s Saturday again, and that means you get to see what I’ve been up to. Stay tuned to the end of this post for a spoiler-y glimpse into the next chapter of Adventure gone Mini AND for the lil Hazbin oneshot thingy.

A brief note first. I’ll be on a lil holiday away from my home on the next weekend, so the progress update will be made on my phone and will probably lack all the italics and bolds and stuff. Sorry for the inconvenience<3

Current WIPs:

Adventure gone Mini

Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / The Minish Cap

Summary: Sidon is given his very own Sheikah Slate, the first replica Purah has managed to make, and sets out to travel with Link with the intention of registering warp points for convenient travel in the future. However, when a malfunction shrinks them down to the size of bugs, and they meet little people called the Minish, they have to change their plans from “fun adventuring” to “getting out of this mess”. Not that those two have to exclude one another. Link/Sidon.

Progress: Chapter 42 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 19th of August. Chapter 43 is 3/4th done and is scheduled for 9th of September.

I post a new chapter every three weeks on Wednesdays. These updates always include a sneak-peek for the next chapter, slowly getting longer over the three weeks waiting period.

—–

Experiment in Romance

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary (temporary): Husk’s afterlife takes an odd turn when a drunk Alastor knocks on his door and has no intention of going to his own room for the night. It only gets weirder from there, leaving Husk with a most unexpected arrangement with the Radio Demon. Either it’ll be the best decision in his afterlife, or he’s simply out to break his own damn heart dealing with the fickle asshole. Radiohusk.

Progress: Chapter 1 is ready. Chapter 2 is 3/4ths done, but I didn’t have the time to write more this week.

—–

Hah! Our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: This is not a stand-alone story! This is a oneshot/drabble collection in the universe as “Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife”. Read the main story before bothering with this one.

I decided to give my readers a chance to throw Radiohusk prompts at me, and had the Afterlife-verse as an option to set the stories in. Everyone liked that, so this fic is now a thing. Enjoy the extra mischief from these two dorks!

Progress: Chapter 26 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 28th of August. Chapter 27 hasn’t been started yet, but it’s tentatively scheduled for 3rd of September, which is a Thursday because I will not be home on Friday to post it - I don’t want to post from my cellphone, because it’s very clumsy for that and I want to do my last minute editing on a bigger screen for a different perspective anyway. It should be noted tho that I’ll be kinda busy next week, so I might not have the time to finish this in time. A sneak-peek will be posted the previous Wednesday if I can make it, but if the sneak-peek doesn’t happen, then I won’t be posting.

I have 12 prompts left.

This fic receives a new chapter every Friday.

—–

RadioHusk artist/writer collaboration event fic (workname)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: Alastor’s regular morning in the hotel includes mayhem, coffee, favouritism, and hopefully kitty petting. Radiohusk oneshot.

Progress: I actually finished this fic on Monday, but I’m still waiting for my partner to do her half of the collab, so I’ve refrained from posting. It seems likely that the deadline of 31st will not be reached, so this will be posted when this will be posted ^^; I’ll put a sneak-peek into this update, tho!

—–

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to someday:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into Adventure gone Mini (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

Mini

Two days.

Link and Sidon had been walking in the swampy, misty, exhausting forest for two days now.

The only reason they knew this was because their Sheikah Slates had clocks in them; otherwise they would have had to make guesses based on the frequency of their breaks and meals, because it wasn't like they could see the sun to keep track of time the easy way. And let's just say that their guesses would have been very off if they had based them on those factors, because Link needed to rest his poor feet all the damn time and he was constantly starved because of the amount of energy he expelled just by walking. This terrain was worse than snow or sand in his opinion, even though he hated walking in the desert and the snowy lands as well.

The only positive thing about this place was that Sidon was thriving. The moisture in the air did his gills and scales wonders after about two weeks of mostly traveling on land. He occasionally ran ahead of Link to spend quality time in the bog holes while Link trudged forward in his bog flippers, and then easily caught up with him again after giving him a good long headstart as well. Sidon was simply made for this terrain.

Hazbin Event Fic

Rays of the morning's hellfires shone bright as Alastor opened the curtains of his hotel room window.

"Good morning, Hell!" he hollered, and laughed to himself. The landscape was mostly empty of any actual people, as it wasn't like a whole lot of folks would choose to spend their time outside of the hotel of all places, but he didn't care. It was the thought that counted.

He went through his morning routine of washing his face, combing his hair, applying a dash of eyeshadow to achieve just the right amount of flair, and getting dressed.

Ready for the day, he waltzed out of his room, emitting a cheerful swing track to put extra bounce into his steps as he walked down the relatively busy hallway. He could already see three of the hotel’s residents, and he was barely out of his room!

—–

That’s it this time. See you next Saturday!

AO3    FFnet    Purple Crayon    Ko-fi     Radiohusk Discord

[xradinoxinterloperx]

Hazbin Hotel OC - Lady Mortis

Character Information

Character: Lady Mortis

Real Name: Micaela Castilla

Nicknames: Miss, Domina Mortis, Señora de los Cadaveres, The Grim Reaper, The Mortuary, Morty (Lucifer), Michelle (Lucifer / Lilith / others) 

Nationality: Spanish

Date of Death: 18th century

Cause of Death: Executed by hanging.

Age: +300

Personality: Confident and calm, but introverted, speak with education and in a slow and calm tone. She has an intellectual and cultured air. Cold with strangers or people that are not of her interest. Eloquent and kind to them that she cares. Focused on her work.

Likes: Animals, Dogs, Tea, Refined Culinary Cuisine, Cookies and sweets, Baby Charlie, Science, Technology, Literature, Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, Nihilism, corpses, Occultism, Machinery, automatons, Being alone, Radial Transmissions from Alastor.

Dislikes: Crowds, idealism, intruders in her company.

 Biological Information

Species: Human (formally)

Physical Description:  She is Pale, tall and thin skin Figure (height of Alastor) with a  Human  old-looking face, that still looks delicate. Normal lips and teeth, not pointed. White eyes with black iris and pupils that become reptilian when expressing with intensity. She wears glasses with small circular lenses. Black  tied long hair with stripes of white. Calm expression and slight smile. Black ornate dress with long sleeves of the 17/18 century. His hands end in pointed claws similar to other demons, white hands that can not be recognized from a glove, that when puncturing some living thing with the tip of  her fingers , regardless of nature or status, dies. 

When it is injured, its body does not tear or bleed, but it cracks, like glass.

Gender: Female

Sexuality: 

Skills: Multilingual (Spanish, Latin, English, Italian, French) 

Clairvoyance of the Void 

 Fatal Touch (if desired) 

Crystal Body

 Knowledge of Biology, Anatomy, Medicine, Occultism, Embalming, Taxidermy, Literature.

Maintenance of Assembly, treatment and Steam Machines and automatized Tapes

 Professional Status

Occupation: Bourgeois, Criminal; Murderer (formally in ife)

CEO Hell's Recycle Factory (Treatment of corpses and remains of Demons)

 Relations

 Family: Unknown Bourgeois Father, unknown husband.

Friends: Magne Family, Alastor, Overlords, Sir Pentious (machine apprentice)

Background

General Description: 

Sponsored by Lucifer himself, she is in charge of recycling the remains of the dead demons in hell to turn them into all kinds of consumer products. The mysterious Lady Mortis is rarely seen outside her factory, and even more rarely accepts visitors. Its employees are mostly steam automatons and the recycling lines are automated. All this makes her look like a hermit who only patrols the premises and resides between her office and internal library. She has a cold and distant personality with the majority, but it is known that she attends some small meetings of the Overlords or the royal family, which holds her in high esteem.

Among the common of the resident sinners of hell it is considered a mysterious character, most seeing it as a figure that has always been there, The Grim Reaper. Some believe it as old as Lucifer, but it is a misconception since all Overlords know that its appearance dates back only a few centuries.

Both in life and now in hell, she has a special interest in the death process and its results.

 It has a grand mirror capable of reflecting a black sky that seems endless, full of stars of faint brightness. Each of these stars represents the souls that dissipate in the void after being erased from hell. In her own belief, merging with nothingness itself is the proper destiny of each being, it is the philosophy that externalizes, all the good and the bad of every being that existed must be merged and dissipated eventually, what remains is used and exploited, only for the benefit of those that still exist.

Early Life and more background: 

In life The only daughter of a bourgeois father in a remote place of Spain, she had a very privileged and free life for a woman of the time. As a child, her first pet was a  female dog who  she found a wounded and help heal herself. As a child she liked to help injured animals, but this began to be a problem in her home and she was prohibited  from doing so. On one occasion still as a child, her dog brought her a wounded bird that she didn't know how to help, and little Michele preferred to kill her herself with a rock than to leave her suffering. This small fact began a small fascination with the process and purpose of death. To observe what happened to the body of the decaying bird to the extreme thought that for the wounded, poor and sick, it was preferable to kill them since sooner or later their life would mostly consist of only suffering for them. From there she began to kill more animals, and even then only in his older life did she dare to fulfill his fantasy of seeing die by his hand certain people he thought were better no longer live. Or I was just curious what would happen if they didn't. She followed an ordinary life with a gentle husband who could she could handle. For a long time she managed to go unpunished for her actions but eventually her fascination made her be discovered as a murderer. His Christian education was only a facade, because until her death she believed there was nothing else on the other side. She died relatively young, so it is not known if he eventually aged in hell or always had the appearance in hell of an aging woman. For a woman of the time she was an intellectual,, and she came to read the written texts of Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, having a special appreciation for them.

Deep down, she thinks that life does not have a sense or objective in itself other than the same existence, All beings only follow instinctive behaviors or seek a place in the world because it is what they are naturally destined to do to combat tedium or subsist , but the universe is not interested in the individual decisions of each. Death or absolute disappearance is an acceptable destination because it puts all beings in the same state when life is unequal for all. Nor does she believe that emptiness is absolute nothingness really. Just as bodies remain and decompose, perhaps the individual mind and ego also do so, losing their individuality, but merging with the "Nothing" is at the same time merging with the "all" what they see as an incomprehensible and fascinating experience. All at once.

Relationship with the Characters: 

Magne Family: She is especially close to them, being a kind of subordinate and friend of Lucifer.

Charlie: Charlie has no memory of Mortis, but she knows her as a baby, and It grew fond of her from those days. For that reason, she insists on calling her Charlotte, her real name. Lucifer has arranged a private visit between Charlie and Lady Mortis in her factory, hoping that his daughter will learn a little about her in her role in the recycling industry as well as the fate of the demons that die in hell. 

While she doesn't believe in Charlie's cause and wouldn't help her with it, she finds the princess of hell interesting and the plans she tries to set for his purpose. 

 Alastor: She is  one of Alastor's friends, enjoying his radio transmissions, especially the one if his arrival to hell. Sometimes they drink tea together privately, but they differ in that she prefers to accompany it with cookies and candy. Even so, appreciate the culinary gifts of Alastor and it is presumed that he has cooked and dined with her on occasion.

[hollowedrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, EMILY! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Alastor Moody. I’m so stoked to have an Alastor again! And right as the action is about to heat up! You know I love your interpretation of Dorcas, and now I can’t wait to see what you do with Alastor as well.

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name: Emily

age: (seventeen and up only) 29 (how? How am I twenty-nine now?)

preferred pronouns: her/she

timezone: Pacific.

activity: (include a brief explanation) Although you’re fairly familiar with my activity already, I probably hover between a 5-7 on any given day. I’m almost always lurking, though sometimes my schedule doesn’t facilitate replies easily.

are you applying for more than one character?: (if so, list your preference in order) Not anymore? Yes? Kinda yes and kinda no?

how do you feel about your character dying?: (in a roleplay centered on war, death is always a possibility. as an admin, it’s best to know ahead of time which players are comfortable with playing it out.) Ugh. Kill me why don’t you? (and yes I thought that though). I’m okay with it, to a degree, I ache at the idea of having one of my character killed off, or anyone, because I just want things to work out, but overall I think that it is something that can advance the plot and show the suddenness of life in a very real way.

anything else?: (questions, concerns, etc.)

ic details.

full name: Alastor Edward Moody

date of birth: June 21, 1947

former hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

sexuality: bisexual

gender/pronouns: (would you like to play this character as non-binary or trans? list it here.) he/him

face claim change: (if you’re requesting to change this character’s fc, list three alternatives in order of preference. all alternatives must be approved by the admin.) Not applicable.

more.

how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths.

Alastor can flex between being everything and being nothing within the same day, and he’s more than comfortable doing that and blending into the shadows. What isn’t as comfortable for him is leading a group of people. Sometimes he wishes that it was easier for him to take a step back and push Kingsley forward, but lately it isn’t as easy to let one be the face of this particular rebellion, not now that they aren’t on the same page anymore. But he needs, more than he ever thought that he had the capacity for before, he needs to do something more for this war and for these people and they are more his family than anything else that he’s ever acknowledged before. He isn’t about to let them just flounder and disappear into oblivion just because it’s easier to be safe than to fight for their way of life. No, the children around them need to have something more in their future than nothing. He’s an enigma. While driven and brilliant and filled with random pieces of information about everything underneath the sun, Alastor firmly remains mysterious and hard to figure out for those around them. Although he doesn’t quite flex his personality depending on who he is around, he does tend to change things depending on what is needed, something that he picked up during his time in the underground (and maybe while he dealt with his father). In another life he would have championed the orphans and the children being hurt, in this life he’s focused on a much larger picture, trying to do what he can to keep the Wizarding World afloat and able to pull themselves out while remaining detached from this group. He is sincerely thinking that it isn’t even a remote possibility that he’ll be able to detach himself from this group anymore, not like he previously was able to. +stubborn Once there is something that Alastor is aware needs to be done, there is a good chance that no one is going to be able to talk him into doing something different, whether that is good or bad or indifferent. Sometimes the good outweighs the bad, but he is more of a man that believes that the end justifies the means that you have to get there sometimes and can understand (at least on a philosophical level) that there are times that sacrificing some for the many can be okay if it is something good. Does that make him a good man? Well, Alastor is never entirely sure of that and never has been his entire life but he does know that it means that he can uniquely be able to make tough decisions even if it means that he’s inserting the knife in his own back. +determined He never really thought that he would have a solid purpose. Not like he does now with the Order. He hadn’t anticipated stumbling on Kingsley and Amelia the way that he did and he certainly didn’t anticipate people to fully start fighting back with the same vengeance that he felt in his blood every morning. There wasn’t a moment that he thought that they would hit a brick wall the way that they had after the attack, for Kingsley to suddenly stop still and want to cower in a safe space and just simply protect rather than defend. No, Alastor was frustrated and as desperate as he needed to keep peace with Kingsley and not split the Order in two, they needed to do more than just sit still and wait. -abrasive There had never been a time where he’d been good at mincing his words. There wasn’t much of a way to step around people’s feelings and be diplomatic in his mind, not when there was the risk of the world as they knew it breaking down in something that was more akin to terror. The past years he had watched too many people die and even more people cross lines and join Lord Voldemort for comfort and he wasn’t about to pretend that it was okay because he couldn’t be candid with people about where the world was standing at. No, he wasn’t about to sit back and wait to watch the Wizarding World crumble and innocents continue to die. The politics of Kingsley and Amelia, even Arabella, were lost on him in the midst of the desire to just simply do and not have to dwell on all the ‘what ifs’ if something went wrong. No, he knew that there was something more for them to manage than just the feelings of those around them and if that made him too blunt and too honest for most circles of people – well, it also meant that he got results when they were needed. -opportunistic If someone asked what it meant to go on a gut feeling, some might say that it was opportunistic, but if Alastor saw an opening to do something, he was willing to take it. That was part of why the Order had worked – the fact that so many of their members had guts that were reliable and knew how to do more than just sit around and debate the logistics. Sometimes there was action needed when an opportunity presented itself and it was certainly one thing that Alastor loved about Arabella. She saw the opportunity in someone and she was willing to chip away to see if it was a one-off instance or see if it was something that was real and more. The woman’s instincts had rarely ever failed her, even if she was more conservative than Alastor would like. No, he saw an opportunity and jumped at it, consequence to himself be damned.

how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise? 

He can feel his body wearing thin. It’s not something that he’ll ever admit out loud, and he never showed it outside of his tent, but it didn’t change the fact that he can feel the fact that the years are starting to drain him. Playing two parts in what seemed like a fixable war at first and feeling as though going from Auror to leader day in and day out was beginning to wear on his feelings. Whether he enjoyed it or not? Well, Alastor just needed for something to break and anything to give them an in to destroy those fundamental decisions that the Death Eaters seemed to be making day in and day out. 

Emotionally he feels more drive than he ever had before, more push to do something that he previously did – maybe because it’s his people out there, missing and not confirmed dead, maybe it’s because he needs this to be done. Or maybe it’s just something that he hadn’t quite figured out in himself. Alastor isn’t entirely sure and he doesn’t have the time to sit down and analyze his feelings.

where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? Why?

Probably the easiest thing for Alastor to express is his desperate need to do more and fight this war until they have no one more to fight with. His end goal remains the same, to end the war, whether that be forcibly or by some sort of peaceful means, but there is no way in his breath that he’s been able to stomach the idea of doing nothing and just hide like they don’t have anything to give. He’s willing to sacrifice himself, he just isn’t sure if he is willing to step back and do nothing when there are still people dying outside of their wards and they could do something about it.

How have the setbacks the Order has faced affected Alastor? What does he think the Order should do next? 

There is no question for Alastor that he thinks that they need to recruit, and recruit heavily. While it comes at a risk, the reward certainly outweighs the risk to him. They’d have more bodies and more likelihood of being able to combat this particular fight, and they wouldn’t necessarily have to let them inside the confines of their safety. It isn’t something that he’d necessarily be willing to do either way, but with their recruiter refusing to bring anyone new on and his co-founder not willing to risk anyone else or risk their home? Well… Alastor is getting more frustrated and more cooped up by the day. He doesn’t know how to talk sense into them and he doesn’t quite get how to grasp ahold of them when it really comes down to it, he just, desperately, wants to do something more than sit back and wait for something to happen or for the world to fall apart. After all, the Ministry has proven that they aren’t going to hinder what the Death Eaters are doing, in fact it seems as though they may as well be encouraging Lord Voldemort.

extra.

here you can list or add any extras you created to get a sense of this character. that can include graphics, writing samples, mock blogs, etc. apps that have extras won’t have an advantage over apps that don’t, although it can help me further understand your grasp of the character.

https://pin.it/bsaw43a53sdkto