#convo: alastor

[wxrmtxil]

Weekly Report || Alastor & Peter

When: Present Day (Game Time) Where: Ministry of Magic (Floor Two: Alastor Moody's Office) With: Alastor Moody @amoody

He’d been psyching himself up for the past fifteen minutes and still not left his office… One of his newer responsibilities as a full clerk to the Auror case files was needing to deliver weekly reports to the head of the department about the state of progress on the clerical side of trials, investigations and (sometimes) even accompany them to trials or house calls; luckily, Peter had managed to avoid the rota for that particular duty. But, he did need to visit one Alastor Moody and updated him on the week’s progress. Trouble was, he’d been putting it off the last quarter of an hour, terrified of seeing the man again. 

It wasn’t Moody himself, more what he’d represented, the Constant Vigilance he’d so utterly failed in, getting himself kidnapped and nearly, nearly spilling all his guts to save himself. He’d never told anyone, but Peter knew in his heart of heart’s they’d have broken him- and that just made him feel guiltier about seeing the man. Closing his eyes, and knowing he couldn’t be late, Peter wiped his sweaty palms on his robes, picked up the expertly organised files and left his new office.   

It was a short walk to Moody’s office and he shuffled slightly outside before raising a trembling hand and knocking the door quietly- too quietly, but the man inside must’ve heard as he was called to enter. Swallowing, Peter opened the door and stepped inside, keeping his gaze on Moody’s desk rather than the man himself, clutching the files to his chest. “P-P-Peter P-Pettigrew to s-s-s-see you, S-Sir, for the weekly R-r-r-r-“ Peter’s stutter was always worse when he was nervous. His grip was white knuckled on the files and his scrunched his face up, unable to get the damn word out, “Update.” He eventually managed, still not lifting his gaze up.   

[celestial-artisan]

Velvette: Breathe, darling, just breathe. Vox, sobbing: I've done nothing with my life! I'm a failure! Alastor: Well that's never bothered you before.

[fuxkfacefave]

Just thought of a potential last line of dialogue between Vox and Al before the 7 years

I'm imagining a universe where Vox confesses to Alastor, alastor runs away bc ooo feelings scary, then they meet one last time and fight eachother

Al, throwing Vox with shadow tentacle and breaking his screen: You're not even going to try to fight me back?!

Vox, sounding completely broken, definitely crying: No.

Al: You weren't even this pitiful the day I met you.

Vox: Well then, congratulations, Alastor. You ruined me.

Alastor goes for the finishing blow, but hesitates, decides to just leave him close to dead instead and leaves him crying on the floor

😭😭😭

[haunted-vespera]

The chaos caused by deerfully's server

@strawberrydoesthings @sparrowfleet @ohdeerfully @lavender-devotion @shebennyonmygecko

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Hear me out on this one, but what if...

What if when Alastor got to Hell, his father was already an Overlord there? What if he accidentally inherited the first of his abilities and title by going after him in a dogged, mindless fury until he suceeded in tearing the man to shreds?

What if he didn't originally know his father was an Overlord, until the man's informants realised Alastor had arrived and he sent people to Take Him Out Permanently - still furious at his own death and unable to see how his own actions had led to it?

When he died, the chains binding those under him, a modest amount, switched colours and blanked out al thoughts of the previous employer. All the best to ensure that when the man reformed, he couldn't find sympathetic ears amongst his former thralls to overthrown Alastor.

And when he does come back, calling in favours from other moderate powered OVerlords who he was friendly with, and who didn't want some upstart getting it in their head that they could just go about killing any old Overlord...

They were decimated. With each death, it fed more souls to the ravenous radio-enhanced demon, and eventually... the ability to scatter them across the airwaves in agonised perpetuity was finally accessible.

-----

It could be a fun way to look at how swiftly he rose to power.

And all because as a new Sinner with nothing to lose, he could take a death or two in his pursuit of his father's blood once more.

But, the horror and tragedy of the damaged microphone is that it was also the key holding the gates shut to the previously scattered Overlords. With it dysfunctional, the atoms of their souls began to piece slowly back together until each was able to take basic form once more...

And that? That's a whole other nightmare unto itself, especially with his father leading the charge.

Alastor finds himself against a veritable army of former Overlords and the man he hates more than anything, certainly nowhere near as powerful as before... but there are many of them, and he has yet to let anyone know about his little snafu in his fight with Adam.

Alastor is resigned to the reality that the Hotel will simply find a new Overlord to patron it, because there is absolutely no way that Charlotte and her Merry band of Sinners would bother with all the fuss his failure had brought upon them, right?

He already planned his exodus, to create enough of a distraction that the released and ravenous Overlordlings would follow after him to a new location. To leave the hotel be, and hopefully keep them from associating their rage with the inhabitants... he liked to be centre of attention, after all, ha-hah!

"Come along, I killed you all before, what-say we go for round two, hmmm?" he mocks and goads and cajoles, leading them without their notice. Like the metaphorical pied piper if the rats were all ready to tear his face off with various magical powers.

It was taking every ounce of strength he had left to play this so casually. The collar at his throat was burning in Her displeasure as he pulled away from the place he was ordered... but would She not prefer her daughter safe and well, as requested, than harmed by his mistakes?

He was certain Vox was watching this now, likely at full mast, the little sadist. It wouldn't be long before a smug entreaty from the picture box came, an offering to rejoin the Vees... and, damn it all, if Alastor wasn't at least entertaining the idea like a much disliked thrice-removed aunt that had arrived on his doorstep unexpectedly.

Four overlords could plow through this lot without a second thought, and perhaps Vox could help him with his broken staff... they were both technologically based beings after all. He had to have some idea how to fix the foci.

As he dodged and weaved, unleashing poppets and cackling aloud in a great display of toying with those baying for his blood, the Radio Demon could feel himself falling short. If he could get them past the bounds of the city, to one of the remote broadcast stations... it would be isolated enough to unleash whatever he could.

And more importantly, for whatever defeat he may incur to not be within view of a camera. No use giving the picture box a new video to fantasise over for the rest of eternity.

The musing leaves him open to an unexpected blast from the side, taking out two of his tendrils and unbalancing the overlord. The curse he lets out is more jumbled static than anything else as he hits the ground, the impact to his chest momentarily forcing his mind blank from the lancing agony.

A hand fists the front of his shirt to drag him upright, even as tell-tale blood begins to pool from within the fabric to the immense amusement of his accoster. "Well now, boy, looks like you picked another fight you couldn't win before we even got back, hunh?"

That familiar, hated voice distorted through inhuman features. Families normally tended to share characteristics when they landed, with a few exceptions... in this case, Alastor hoped he took after his maman wherever she rested amongst the Winners.

Because his father was some horrific wasp-humanoid abombination. It had been disgusting to see him the first time, in the flesh, and far worse to feel the potency of his venom as it burned like liquid fire through your veins. He'd been an overlord through fear... not unlike the man he'd been in life.

And once more, he had the upper hand.

"Should've beaten the bitch to death before she welped you, boy." He buzzed, and bit down on the tendril that fought to shove him back. "Not getting away that easy this time. We had time to talk, once we got our selves back, and I think we've just about managed to pin down all your little tricks."

"Oh?" Alastor goads, grinning, as he dissolves into shadow. Or, that was the plan, a female former overlord hurled a blinding white-cold net over his body. The thread was fragile, but the light burned... he'd hated facing her at full power, but even now her little tricks held a sharp sting.

A third of his cadre of displeased overlords stepped forwards, scattering a powder over his incoporeal form that felt like being submerged in a fizzing bottle of soda. And with a sharp popping sensation, Alastor was once more physical and in the flesh; his claws snapping the binding threads easily as he snarled.

"What an adorable little trick you have learned there, Dendamosia... wherever did you get," he paused, licking at a stray piece of powder on his lip and thinking. "...screaming hydrophant pollen and-... is that a hint of hellboar tusk?- at such short notice. Those are obscenely expensive in this Ring right now."

"...don't I fuckin' know it. But it was worth every penny, cause I dun gotcha, smartmouth. And I reckon we'd all like a word with y'all, if ya dun playing hide'n'seek now." Dendamosia snarks back. A very strange overlord, she used to spit tobacco at such speeds he could take a thrall's head off when they displeased her. A very unsanitary fight to the death that one... Alastor had never quite managed to get the suit clean and had given it to Niffty for her crafts.

"Well, I was attempting to lead us to a level playing field just beyond the city with a few rubble piles we can use for our purposes, but here will do as well, I assume." Alastor beams, magnanimous. "However, if you can limit destruction to a four street radius in either direction, we will thankfully avoid drawing the attention of Carmilla and Zestial, whose territories exist in those directions. I'm sure you can recall how little those two like to fight at short notice?"

"The old guy and that uppity bird who thought she could deal weapons to real men? Hah, you think we couldn't handle them on a bad day?" His father goads again, crowding into Alastor's space in a way that is trying to trigger some truly horrific memories from childhood that Alastor is frantically keeping a lid on.

"Carmilla is the best weapons merchant in the city, in multiple rings in fact... she surpassed your paltry efforts into the area decades ago. You would do well to treat her with the respect she is due..." Alastor replied, narrowing his eyes and dodging a poorly-tossed knife. He Tsked, it wasn't even an angelic weapon, what was the thrower thinking?

"You think I care? Once I get my power back, I'll put her back in her place as both an Overlord and a woman. Might even teach those pretty little girls a'hers to be good homemakers... get rid of all those fancy airs and booksmarts she let them get. Lets the rabble have ideas above their station... but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you... boy?"

"Intriguing. I dare you to say that to her face... or indeed to any of the Overlords close to Carmilla, they will fillet you alive and I shall be simply overjoyed to watch it happen. Why I suspect dear Rosie will keep you alive and regnerating for a good century or so in her larder, just on principle!"

"There you go again, always hiding behind women!" Snarls his father, clearly not noticing the way some of the freed Overlords behind him had started to frown in his direction. They wanted Alastor dead, of course, but... this man was clearly not the mouthpiece for all of them, and some of his ideas seemed like they were going to be a problem in future negotiations.

"Seeing women as people with their own thoughts and ideas is not hiding behind them. It is merely being human, you misogynistic fool. But your whole life was made onthe backs of others, with minimal effort towards any success or accolade you received, there was an underpaid person beneath you who deserved it more. You were born to look down on anyone who did not share your wealth, status, colour, sex or ideology... and the world started to pass you by, didn't it Father?" Alastor said, latching on to the other man's lapels with his fist and gouging bloody furrows in the flesh below as he expanded.

"You always had to have control, and what you did to the indentured servants and the workers in your so-called care was deplorable. But you couldn't help yourself, could you? You may have been born to a higher class, but you never had any yourself. And that made you angry, a small-cocked rooster strutting about the henhouse, always shouting about his importance and growing frustrated by diminishing applause at your own ingenuity."

He hisses as his father begins to bite at the hand holding him, and it aches. The other overlords hurling different weaponry and blasts of power his way, as he unleashed murderous poppets without restraint upon them.

"...you would beat people, even to death, for daring to not bow and scrape before you for the slightest thing. Your beliefs were already crumbling to dust, as was your reputation, by the time it came to light how many bastards you'd forced on the local women... or how many were found dead by so-called mysterious means when the law started to ask questions. The men you assaulted always dying of intriguing accidents, how convenient."

Unease is stirring amongst some of those aiming to attack alongside his Father. Some were cruel and capricious, human life meant nothing... but most still had a flicker of disgust for something like the wasp Sinner.

Alastor laughed, fighting to hold onto his form as the combined assult and venom, exhaustion and angelic essence, wore down the last vestiges of his abilities.

"And to find you down in Hell attempting to rearrange the world to your own ideology again... unsurprising, uninspired. An empire run by clerks and the underlings, and you on your big boy throne, forcing your thralls to give constant adulation so you feel like a 'real man'. Well father, I strongly suspect you wouldn't know what that is if a dictionary struck you in the face."

"Alright, I've had just about enough of you. Think it's about time you learned who's really in charge round about these parts, hmm?" With a whistle that seemed mechanically impossible given his wasp-like mouth, a burning length of divine cord lasso'd about Alastor's free wrist.

And a second coiled about his throat, giving some of the stronger overlords below something to pull the titan off-balance with. Alastor crashes to one knee, forced to drop his father in order to steady himself. The bastard hits the pavement and rolls.

Alastor snarls, runes filling the darkening air as he pools power to open an eldritch portal of tentacles to hopefully force the others. back once more. He manages one only half the size he'd hoped for, but it was still enough to take a good half-dozen of his pursuers off-guard as tendrils began to tear them limb from limb.

His vision doubles, triples as the strain of it all finally forces him back to regular form.

The disgust that roils in his stomach at his father's triumphant laughter. As if anything here today was his doing outside of a few stings. All the other overlords had tried, but the bastard had stood back and merely accepted the applause as his god-given right.

Stars burst behind his eyes as a heavy blow lands across his skull, with another swinging back the other way almost immediately. Alastor's mind reels, but he's not about to go out on his knees like this.

With a determined shove, he rises to his feet, flaring his claws to gouge out chunks of the closest assailant. Laughing at their screams echoed about the area, hot blood spraying over his lips delectably.

He surges forwards towards a ferret-like former overlordd and tears his throat out in a gorey mess, spitting the chunk aside.

No powers, no way out... but not going down without a fight.

Just for a fleeting moment, Alastor does hope that perhaps one of the other Overlords or even his royal Lowness will have the capacity to utterly destroy this unprecedented influx of grizzled and furious overlords, in his stead. It would not do to have them destroy the delicate balance that had been carved in Pride since the last of the Big Names had been overthrown.

Ah, perhaps that insipid little hotel had changed the Overlord for the better if he was already thinking of others in his last moments. Someone's arm tore away from tehri body wetly as they stabbed at him. A tendril curling about the throat of the angler-fish overlord who used to hold Zeezi's territory... very odd way of doing business, that one. He crushed her larynx and barely avoids his own being bitten by a serpentine fellow intent upon getting his revenge.

Throughout it all, Alastor could feel the way his father hovered at the periphery, grinning and drinking in the scene of his revenge. If only Alstor could take him with him...

Something slams sharply into his back, a crimson point emerging between his lower ribs, as he suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

Alastor hits the pavement on his knees, almost listing to one side, but a familiarly cruel grip on his antler forces him to remain upright.

"Looks like you lost, you miserable halfbreed... but on your knees is a good look for you. Least you knew your place in the end." His father beams, malice in his eyes that bordered on manic glee as he took his revenge. He spat at the ground between Alastor's knees, "I'm going to erase all trace of you from this place, no one will remember your name or think of you, when I'm done. What friends you had will be hunted and removed until no trace of you exists. Think that's fair enough for what you did to me."

The radio static is thick and garbled as he fights for words amongst the cloying blood in his throat. "If y-y-yo-u can, gooooo ahead then."

The hand on his antler tightens, twisting it violently.

"With pleasure." snarls the wasp, the rasp of unsheathed weaponry accompanying his raised arm. Ah, how quaint... he did remember to bring an angelic blade after all...

Alastor stared right into those hateful eyes, and found himself utterly devoid of anything much in that moment. Death imminent, body singing a chorus of different pangs, aches and pains... but emotionally flat.

And then his father chokes in surprised agony as something struck him violently from above. The force knocking the sinner several feet back into a nearby building, and allowing Alastor to crumple to the ground.

"Hey, that's my daughter's emotional-support-cannibal-overlord!" Lucifer decrees, hovering above them all with horns out and wings flared. Charlie jumps down from his arms to land on the wasp-like Sinner, claws out.

"V-ven...om..." Alastor garbles a warning. But he needn't have bothered, for Charlie had already grabbed the mandibles and torn them right out of his father's face in veritable confetti canon of viscera. Vaggie pinning the arcing abdomen to the pavement with her spear before the bastard's secondary barb could be used.

If he'd had the energy for it, Alastor would have laughed. There was something deliciously ironic about his father being disarmed and dismantled by these two warrior women. The rage in those eyes as they fell on Alastor, how they tried to shift the blame for even the man's own weakness as the Princess and Consort-to-be mercilessly turned him to paste, just wonderful to behold.

Bullets sprayed in focused bursts, as Angel Dust parted through the crowd of former overlords. They were powerful, but not 'cop an angelic bullet and live through it' at this point. Watching them scatter was intriguing, and slightly alarming.

Before he can find a way to voice this, a boundary of pure electricity springs up around the area, allowing Angel, the delightfully fiery Miss Cherri Bomb, Husker and Niffty to start picking the adversaries off one by one. Lucifer was busy menacing with his presence alone, and keeping an eye on Charlie in the throng.

Alstor is relatively certain that he saw Vox materialise a few feet away with someone else, but that would require turning his head.

He huffs a tired, wet laugh as Desdamonia's head rolls comically by. And then Rosie was there, sharp eyes assessing the damage and making decisions. Vox stood at her back, keeping an eye on the fray and frying anyone who got too close.

"Well, this is quite the mess." She surmises, and dabs at his face with a kerchief, it coming back quite thoroughly ruined with gore. "Ah, you are quite inconsiderate Alastor... when you promised I could eat you if you died, I expected at least some quality control on the meat. This is a bloody, poorly marinated mess."

"Apologies kssshkt... for the... zzzt... poor fare..." he snatches the words from the airwaves as best he could, and she strokes his hair.

"Nevermind that now. I suspect you will enjoy the sinner meat I just had imported in, they were part dolphin apparently, and I understand the flavour reminds one of tuna." She speaks of nothing at all, clearly just keeping his awake and aware, despite the desperate urge to he feels to just fall back into the soothing darkness behind his eyes.

A hand smacks his cheek. "Oh you old timey fucker, you don't get to die before I kill you!" grumbles a picture box about an inch from his face, which is quite the disconcerting sight to open one's eyes to.

"...Vox."

"Yeah, it's me, you idiot. Why the hell didn't you just come to Vee Tower when this lot were after you, I would have helped you! Hells, Velvette wanted to rip the wasp's head off when he heard his bullshit about women... she's running a slander campaign on the former overlords so even if someone escapes, they can't get a clawhold in anywhere." Vox was rambling.

Where had Rosie gone? Because he didn't recall transferring laps, and yet...

"She's gone to grab the King, the guy's a little too into 'helicopter parenting' but we need him over here to keep your sorry ass alive. Oh, well you might wanna hang on an extra minute, because I think she just spotted Bantuin, the Hyena Overlord that used to always used to run slander campaigns against her in his magazine before he went missing. Yeah, oof, Rosie's pulled one of his legs off and he's choking on it..."

"Vox?"

"What? Oh, yeah, look you stupid fucker..." Despite the tone, Alastor's head was gently assisited to look over what remained of the battlefield that still fought or at least twitched with some form of life. "All these people came to save your ass, and it wouldn't have come to you nearly getting killed for good if you'd just said something back at the hotel. Or hells, come to me. I wouldn't have even asked for any sort of kinky stuff as a thank you..."

That got him an exhausted glare.

"Yeah, yeah... I know. Still love you, even after all the times we fought, but you were my friend first. Even when I'm pissed at Vel or Val, I'd still defend them with my life... and you? You picked me up the day I fell into Hell. I would have helped. Even fucking Lucifer himself is down here with a vested interest in keeping your infuriating self alive."

"...very strange..."

"It's called being cared about, Al. But given what your fuckin' dad over there was saying, and holy shit do we need to get you some proper therapy for that mess, it's not hard to imagine why you struggle to trust anyone. Or love them."

The television sighs, one hand carding through red hair matted with blood, and the other maintaining pressure on the-... wait, when did the blade get removed?

"They do, you know. The weirdoes at the hotel... the minute I realised what was happening and reached out to the Princess, they hauled ass to come to your rescue. Rosie didn't even bother to change out of her nightgown when she heard, and let me port us both here through the electricity." He then smacks Alastor across the forehead, lightly, albeit with a ringing echo born of previous blows. "Don't you ever fucking pull something like this again and try to scramble my cameras to hide your trail, it took ages to work out where you were heading because of that."

"Oooh, looking a little worse for wear there, Deer Daddy..."

Alastor's stomach clenched at the approach of the other Vee, who was languidly smoking and firing at the penned former overlords. His eyes cold behind those shades, following a particular body as it tried desperately to escape.

"...Valen...tino. Why are y-oou here?"

"Well, ciervo, for one you have my high-class whore on the playing field and I want to keep him alive. Secondly, it was a bit funny to watch Vox frantic like that... and thirdly, I came to see if someone specific escaped. Always wanted another chance to end them, if I won't be stepping on your hooves to do so?"

Alastor knew exactly who the moth meant, someone even more sadistic than Valentino, who had used his thralls until they died on his-... ah, well, it was impolite to discuss. He'd been sickened to learn of the Overlord, and gone out of his way to kill the 'pimp' at his earliest convenience.

The Radio Demon had freed the thralls there, uncertain what to do with so many well-trained sex workers who all seemed to think they also had to 'serve him'. It had been wildly unnerving. Instead, he'd talked to them and found employment or new contracts for the majority.

He didn't recall Valentino amongst the throng, but there had been a few winged ones. And Overlord powers gave you the ability to shift form, so perhaps he had been there.

"Make him... suffer... as you wish." He rasped, finally gaining his own voice back. "And remember... what it was like to... be on his...leash... when you look after your... 'bitches'."

A subtle reminder, as both their eyes strayed to Angel Dust, covered in blood and crowing in delight at the slaughter alongside Husk and Cherri.

"...I hear you." Valentino replies, and crouches a tad too close for Alastor's liking, exhaling that dizzying smoke right into his face as he coughs. "Here... it'll help numb things until you start to regenerate properly."

Alastor wasn't going to thank the moth for it, but he could feel some of the tension draining from his discomfort as the smoke curled in his lungs. The moth patted him on the hand, in a far too familiar way, and disappeared in the direction of Him.

"Did you want me to do that?" Vox asks, boldly running a thumb over Alastor's cheek now. A slow motion that didn't trigger the normal instinct to bite. "Make the pain go away, I mean?"

The eye loomed large, swirling in question.

"I-... it's never... worked before?" Alastor manages, his grin tightening as he watches dear Vagatha spin in mid-air to launch a cackling well-armed Niffty across the heads of the ramining and right into a tall dinosaur sinner that screamed as she carved a way inside his chest.

"Yeah, but you've never been this fucked up before... or partially elevated on Val's stuff, so... it might?" Vox offered, shrugging. Taking implicit permission from the way Alastor tilted his neck slightly to lock eyes properly.

"Uh, okay, shit..." Vox was flustered. It wasn't like they were about to kiss, but he sure acted as if they were. "Alastor, you're going to feel tired and weightless, and move to a place where the pain can't touch you... BUT not like, die. Okay? Just put it out of mind and a bit to the left, but don't straight up die on me."

The words felt soothing, and rooked no argument from the exhausted overlord, as he let himself drift.

At some point, other voices came closer once more, and he was lifted... but he let his eyes close properly as true sleep came for him. Blotting out the soft golden glow being bestowed.

Perhaps there was something to this whole caring and allowing vulnerability thing, after all...

--------

Sobbing was the first thing that stirred him, and it became apparent that whatever soft surface he was laid upon... he was NOT the only occupant.

Normally, he was a tad picky over who he would allow in his space... but today it seemed that he didn't much care for that.

Niffty was curled into a ball atop his head, one hand clutched about his antler like a lifeline as she slept. He felt the tickle of Kiki's tail as she curled up to one side of his throat, brushing against his face in her slumber.

Speaking of cats... a secondary rumble came from the greyish winged loaf to his left, just pressed against one arm as if by accident. Purring away. And a shade further than than, a long pink streak primarily curled about the cat sinner, with a few fingertips pressed against Alastor's clothed arm.

Head pillowed on Husk, Charlotte had his waist in a deathgrip, as if he'd disappear if the slumbering princess didn't anchor him to this realm hard enough. Naturally, playing the big spoon to dear Charlotte, was Vagatha, who also seemed to be touching him somewhere around the leg region.

Something else was sprawled across his lower legs, several something actually, at least one felt especially spherical. He tried to summon his shadow to report back, but it giggled at him in response.

Hard to lift one's head with Niffty perched precariously atop it, after all.

What he could see, upon his other side, was Rosie. Half-seated on the mattress edge and slanting slowly across the bedhead, a hand on his shoulder even in slumber.

Alastor was starting to feel like a community garden project, with some many different people insistent upon being in his space today.

And that was before he glanced down at the clawed blue hand resting on his chest and realised the other person to his right was Vox, who appeared to be fast asleep seated at the side of the bed. He was face-down on the mattress, and that was somewhat amusing.

Less amusing, was the realisation that the lanky purple form sprawled over three of his armchairs was, in fact, Valentino. With Miss Velvette curled on his chest, her phone dinging obnoxiously even when she wasn't interacting with it.

However, what really and truly nearly made him dislodge Niffty and catapault her through the ceiling, was the sudden realisation that Lucifer was sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed, arms crossed over his white-clad chest and a nebulous stare aimed right at Alastor.

Before he can even think of a good opening line, the King stands, and hovers above the mattress so Alastor doesn't have to crane his neck to see him.

"Alastor, glad to see you awake again so soon. I think we need to have a little chat about what happened out there... and how we make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Majesty, I assure you that it wasn't my intention for the inamtes to release themselves from my broadcast... if I can just repair my miscrophone, I shall be able to seal them back inside once more."

"Oh, this old thing? Yeah, Husk helped us work out that we needed it to lock them away again and I snapped it back together on the battlefield. It's got a few new wards of my own invention, so we shouldn't have a repeat of this fucking nightmare again." The King says, manifesting the now whole foci and dropping it into Alastor's free hand. "But that's not what I meant."

The overwhelming joy and gratitude bubbling up in Alastor's throat died out as a sense of dread arose in its place. Ah, is this the part where he'd be thrown out of the Hotel after all? His ears snapped back, making Niffty giggle in her sleep.

"Oh stop with the panicking, as annoying as you can be when you try to out-dad me or whatever that whole thing we do is, I'm not about to toss you out of the hotel. No, I want you to promise me that next time things go absolutely sideways for you like Adam nearly cutting you in half or breaking the thing holding back the worst of the worst in some weird dimensional prison... you tell someone."

The King was glaring down now, whispering so angrily it felt like being yelled at by the world's sternest librarian. "You know what? I changed my mind, even if you think you've got a cold coming on or just need a day off, you're going to say something. Because none of this needed to happen. Char-Char's been sobbing in her sleep she was so fucking worried about your stupid red self. If you'd said something, I could have patched up that wound, and fixed your stick thing. Or just been able to capture and contain those Overlord guys until we could find a better option..."

The angel pauses, sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "But I get why you didn't, or at least didn't think you could... I heard the wasp guy. And now I kind of understand why you've been such a huge pest about always wedging yourself between me and Charlie... but I'm not like that, and I'm sorry that you had to deal with someone like that. It explains soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much about you, actually."

"Sire..." Alastor half-growls, feeling insulted, but pauses as the rumble of sound appears to rouse half the occupants of the room. "I appreciate your... support, and the return of my foci, but please do refrain from psychoanalysis at this time. It's been quite the day..."

The next words choked off as Charlie's delighted 'Al!' was accompanied by what felt like his waist being turned to powder.

"Hey, the Strawberry Pimp's alive!" Angel yawned, stretching and popping six different arms all at once as he multitasks. Scritching husk behind the ears, untangling Charlie, and patting Al on whichever part of arm he could reach. "Glad t'see you ain't double-dead... man, those guys were assholes. And I thought my pops was bad..."

"Well, do let me know if yours is down here. His majesty has improved my staff, so I may be able to add him to the studio audience, if you would like..."

"...might take you up on that, Smiles. How you feelin'? You looked retty fucking rough when we found you... and that was before the little stripsearch where we found what Adam did to ya."

"You WHAT?" Radio feedback startled the rest of the room awake. Cherri Bomb, Fat Nuggets, and Frank the Egg Boi shot awake and rolled off of him with the aussiest of curses.

"Calm down, just ya shirt, really. Niffty took it to launder it, and once you were healed and clean, I grabbed something out of my dresser for you. Couldn't work out how t'get into your room... Spooky Lite over there was guarding it a bit too fierce." Angel points at the shadow, which shrugs.

"Fair enough. I-... what am I wearing?"

Looking down, Alastor felt an eye twitch at the shirt which so blatantly advertised that he was 'Hard to Kill, Easy to Fuck'.

Vox, awakened by the commotion, clearly registered the shirt for the first time and started to cackle loudly; followed by the other Vees as they groggily returned to consciousness.

His distortion flared automatically as Velvette attempted a covert photo. He thoroughly enjoyed her little 'Awww, spoilsport.'

"Ah, excuse me I must have nodded off!" Rosie said, righting herself. She must have popped home because her attire was immaculate as always. She sat upright and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm afraid that, now I know all is well, I need to get back to Cannibal Town... otherwise it might very well burn to ash in my abscence. Susan said to give you her best wishes that next time they 'aim better to get your shrivelled little heart', my deer."

They cackled together at is, Alastor's mind already whirring on revenge options, as his friend left the room with a soft wave.

A dishevelled Husk stretched, smacked Angel and Alastor in the face with his wings, and then froze. "Uh, my bad... forgot where we were?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Well, I will ignore that little incident because the purring was rather delightful, dear Husker. Almost as enthusiastic as little Kiki here."

"He PURRS?" Angel shouts, looking like a kid on Christmas. "Oooooh-ho-ho! I need to hear that... c'mon kitty, do the thing!"

"...why did we save your insufferable ass again?" Husk mumbled, to Alastor's delight. Trying to look dignified as Angel squished his fluffy cheeks, and Cherri Bomb joined in, trying to find the right button to get him to purr.

"Oh you wound me Husker, do you not enjoy my company?"

He narrowly avoided being slapped with the feathered tail.

Niffty finally woke up and rolled down into Alastor's lap, where she was scooped up by Vaggie, giggling madly. "Morning Sir! I got to stab so many people, did you see?!"

"I did, dear, I did. You were very vicious!"

Vox stood up and cracked his spine, "Ugh, sleeping like that fucks with my spine... it's like I crashed at my desk..."

"Want me to help?" Valentino purrs, and gets a warning look from just about everyone. He rolls his eyes, "Not that I wouldn't be opposed to a little audience for that, this isn't the right mood. Besides, I'm actually pretty good at massage and cracking joints... with this many limbs, you have to be."

It seemed like Angel and Charlie finally registered Valentino's presence, and shrank back. The moth noticed, rolled his eyes and made his way to the bedside to extend a hand to Alastor.

"He didn't die for hours, and I made him feel it every second. So, perhaps it's only fair that we make that little favour a deal..." Valentino says, directly to the deer, who takes his hand. As usual, there's a blinding array of green and plush pink, before it settles. "...hadn't had to think about that guy in a long time."

"...keep in mind how close you came to following his path, and make a different choice. Or I will co-... hmmm, how can I best rephrase this?" Alastor pauses, knowing his audience. "Or you shall be part of the audience as well."

Uncharacteristically, Valentino had a very solemn expression on his face. "If I'm ever that bad... you have my permission."

"Excellent! Well, if all the melodrama has concluded for today, can we please go and get something to eat? Lounging in bed feels so wasteful in such a nice day, and there are so many different flavours of sinner to try."

"Cute, but that whole evil overlord schtick just won't cut it anymore, Al, I think they've gone full duckling and imprinted on you." Vox advises, putting a cautious arm around Al's shoulders.

For the sake of the audience, Alastor allows his ears to drop. "Ah, blast. I don't suppose eating one of them while the others watch will work, hmmm?"

"Oooh, depends on the definition of-..." Valentino adds, at the same time Angel pipes up with, "Now that could be some interesting ratings if we-..."

Alastor buries his face in his hands.

"Hah, realised how fucked you are, have ya?" Cherri grins, cheekily. "Decided we like havin' you around, mate, so good luck getting rid of us now!"

He plucks her from the floor with a sudden tendril and mimes tossing her out the nearest window, much to the cyclop's obvious shrieking delight. Alastor forestalls the incoming iinnuendoes by raising a finger in the general direction of Valentino. "Don't. say. anything."

"Voxxy, I know you're glad your old boyfriend or whatever is alive, but we got a press conference in twenty minutes at the Tower. We gotta zap-zap ourselves over there if we wanna get freshened up in time..." Velvette chimes in, her phone going ballistic. She shrugs at the assembled. "Price of success, innit?"

"Thanks for the reminder, babydoll." Valentino says, scooping her up and peppering the other Vee with kisses as she giggled and half-heartedly swatted at him. "...I'm sure we'll see you at the tower another time, Deer Daddy, but we need to borrow our TV back for now... come along Voxxy."

Rolling his eyes, Vox places a brief peck on Alastor's cheek, and turns away as electricity gathers about him. "Alright, tuck in, the wiring here is ancient so it'll be a squeeze til we hit the mainlines outside." he warns, enveloping the other two and in a blink, they're gone.

"You and the fucking tv? How does that even work? He's a flat screen?!" Angel and Cherri are yelling, it's hard to pick out individual voices.

Alastor suddenly feels exhausted. "Not presently, no. We were once... but, we had a disagreement. And as to the specifics of his form, it works the same way anything does down here... magic, I assume. I have seen the man eat an entire roast without issue, even when the question of how or why he needs to eat is at the forefront of everyone's minds."

"...and his tongue?" An eyebrow waggling spider prompts, before Husk whips him with a wing.

A glint of mischief in his eyes, Alastor merely smiles back. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Cherri made a noise that sounded like 'Oooooooooooooooooooh!" and was subsequently smacked by the other wing.

"Stop encouraging him!"

"I'm really glad you're okay, Al..." Charlie chimes in, her smile wavering as if on the verge of tears. "I was so worried... by the time we got to you, there was so much blood..."

"Yeah, you fucking idiot, we got super worried about you. Thought we'd have to find a new Overlord to sponsor the hotel or something." Vaggie joked, nervously.

"...based on the mild haranguing I received from his Majesty before you all awoke, it appears my attempts to minimise damage and distress were ineffectual." Alastor concedes, one of his ears twitching rhythmically in the way he often bounced his knee when feeling chagrined.

"If ya dad is a fucking psycho who broke out of the magic radio prison you shoved him in and rallied an army of overlords t'kill ya... just say so next time? We can handle it, alright?" Angel interjects, fiercely.

"Exactly, you need to trust that we can and will help you if something is wrong. Same way we trust you..." Charlie adds, and it feels like a kick to the heart to hear such a thing. "And especially about the whole Adam thing, what were you thinking keeping that to yourself?!"

She was clearly fighting tears.

"Because I suspected you would take it personally, like this, that I failed to ward off the First Man dear Charlotte." Alastor admits, the words felt like they'd been dragged out by wild horses, so unusued to sharing honestly after a century in hell. "But it was in no way your fault that my fight did not pan out in the manner I had planned..."

"That is true," Charlie replies diplomatically, "But if we'd known you were hurt or your staff-... fucky? thing was broken, we could have stopped all of this. We wouldn't have nearly lost you today."

"Foci, dear."

"Microphone thing, whatever. Listen, Alastor, this whole place works if we all trust each other... so we need you to at least try." Vaggie says, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"...fine, I will... think on it." He compromises, not sure what answer he could give that they would want to hear.

Charlie relaxes, as does the remainder of the room.

"Oooh, can we have pancakes for breakfast?" Niffty yells, far too close to people's ears for that volume, and not caring in the least. At least a few sinners side-eye his Majesty, who grins in reponse before snapping his fingers.

A dessert cart topped with pancakes, jams, syrups, ice cream and all manner of fruit materialises near the armchairs and small coffee table. The motifs about the room are starting to tickle something in the back of the Overlord's brain... a lot of white, red, gold... wait that a painting of an apple?

Oh.

Oh no. Was this his little Majesty's room? Alas, he will never live down having been laid to rest in the King's bed, the ex-angel had won this round until such time as Alastor could find a means by which the monarch could recouperate in the Radio Demon's own room.

Possibly, given the lack of concern from the King, Alastor is the only one thinking this way. The only one tallying and keeping track... or perhaps not, he realises, as his majesty raises a single finger, winks and pokes his tongue out.

If it wasn't below his dignity to do so, Alastor would call Charlie's attention to it.

Speaking of the King...

Lucifer has seated himself back on the bed, those sharp eyes are looking at Alastor in anticipation. Hadn't he already thanked the man? Or did he? This morning had been quite the mess... oh, had it only been a night's sleep or was this far more embarrassing than the Overlord had previously realised?

"Well? If we've all learned our lessons about the importance of trust and sharing burdens... is there anything anyone else wants to share with the class?" The smug little prince of lie asks, making a show of shifting his well-starched white collar, not dropping eye contact for even a second.

And Alastor feels his insides grow cold as stone.

Ah. Of course... if the King had laid hands on his to heal him, it would have been immediately obvious.

Charlotte has put her plate down, moving back over to the bed as she glances between Alastor and her father anxiously.

"Al... is there something else you need to tell us?"

"I-..." Blast these feelings of guilt and vulnerability. He looks her dead in the eyes, a hand coming up to activate the collar at his throat, which glows violet in the suddenly silent room. "I may need your assistance with something else... and it involves where your mother has been for these past few years. She-..."

The stitches flare up, cutting off his speech.

Lucifer's face falls, slightly. He'd known a soul claim was there, but... it was like ripping of a bandaid. Fast or slow, the ahce remained in that action.

Charlotte looked like she was about to burst into tears... and then she hugged him. "It's okay Al... we're going to fix this, and get through it, no matter what."

...was this what they called unconditional love?

Hmmm, perhaps it wasn't so horrifying a prospect after all.

---------

END

This was meant to be the first like three headcanon paragraphs and now its hours later with this mess.

Thanks

[xalygatorx]

Death in Pink Incorrect Quotes #1

Adelie: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you.

Alastor: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.

Adelie: Absolutely not.

[ask-the-sexyman-squad]

DT, Alastor, hear me out...

Your babies in one of these bad boys

"O-oh."

Alastor is completely gone. He's laughing his ass off over something so small---yet admittedly clever and funny. To be fair, he hasn't slept in...two days. However, DT seems to genuinely enjoy this.

"It's...a lovely thought, thank you for sharing."

They were struggling not to laugh, but they were damn close to failing.

"..."

"..."

"What-"

"-the-"

"-fuck-"

"-language."

"Sorry."

"...though your swearing is somewhat understandable. Are they both unwell?"

"Hell if I know. But I do know that dad hasn't slept in two days."

"Isn't he normally able to go on for weeks without sleeping?"

"He can, but there is something off about him. Like he's internally freaking out."

"Perhaps it's the weight of being a father settling in?"

"Maybe."

"...guess we got an audience now."

"What are you-oh."

Immediately, Mordecai's pupils dilated much more upon noticing that Bella was watching him. It was a sweet sentiment, and Sam just smiled down when Castiel looked up at her.

"Mhm. These lil guys...buncha cuties."

"Hm...Alastor and Double Trouble should get some rest, though. Specifically Alastor. I haven't seen Double Trouble fatigued as of late, which is good I suppose. Alastor..."

"He really should get rest: but first I wanna know what's going on with him."

"Be my guest: you are his eldest daughter after all."

"...yeah..."

[countlessrealities]

@holoharbinger from HERE

Sometimes, it's really amazing to see just how bad this man is with technology. For a device with autocorrect and autocomplete, generally, Alastor sure seems to have such a way with working it. His messages are coherent, though—at least he can have that.

The single-line onslaught of texts to convey two sentences max worth of content are not to be forgiven, however. Even if the prospect of said messages is... a little exciting. (He's keeping himself contained for now.)

Vox waits another 5 minutes for the texts to stop pouring in before he attempts to make the call. Vaggie's phone? Alastor's phone? Anybody's guess. (Although, it's probably fair to assume he's not going to be touching Vaggie's phone any more than he already has.)

He's going to make a quick redial to that unknown number and see what comes up.

"Kinda surprised you let Vaggie force you into to doing anything, much less something so outside of your comfort zone." That's better than a much-too-formal greeting. "You two starting to make friends with each other here, or...?"

When the phone rings, Alastor is already back in his room. He won't acknowledge it, because it has been a quite undignified scene, but he has dropped the smartphone in Vaggie's hands like a hot potato the moment he was done with the texts.

She was smirking widely as he retreated, obviously extremely entertaining, but he had chosen to ignore that too. He won't give her that satisfaction too.

Still, when he hears Vox's greeting from the other side of the line, he regrets not having retaliated at least a little. Well, plenty of time to get to that after the call.

"Oh, I'm very glad to hear from you too, Vox. My morning was fine, thank you for asking!"

The sarcasm in his voice is as thick as treacle, making his displeasure painfully obvious. And, because he can be that petty, he releases a burst of static through the line, right after he has finished speaking.

Hopefully it hurts.

"Vaggie and I have an...arrangement, if you must know. But I will admit that she's taking bolder liberties than she should. I'll fix it soon."

And that's all he will say on the subject.

"Now, if you're done with this ridiculous insinuations, we can move onto the truly important point of this call. Shall we?"

[radiodust-heart]

Yall i had a conversation with someone who said the most daunting thing to me. She said 'asexuality mich like autisum is a spectrum' and i havent been able to forget it.

[telleroftime]

Some people need to remember that fanfic owes nothing to the reader. Those words are shared with you. You don't buy them; you don't own them. They are the aftermath of someone's creative endeavours and the reader has no right to complain and harrass the writer for not sharing the same fantasies and opinions.

[alastors-radioshow]

"People tend to forget that I am not obligated to be polite to them. It is a choice I make~

I am not obligated to be polite. I am not obligated to assist. And I am certainly not obligated to follow anyone's rules but my own~"

"It would be ì̸͎n̴̫̈ ̸̱̀ỵ̶̔ọ̶̐ũ̷͉r̸̳̂ ̷̺̽b̸͖̒ẽ̸͓s̸̮̆ẗ̸͍́ ̸̮͘i̴̱͑ǹ̴̹t̵͚͝ẽ̴̦r̸̯̓e̸̡͝s̸̜̀t̴̛̜ ṱ̷̀̈́́o̵͚̗̍̕͝ ̷̻͚̖̂͆r̶̻͋̕e̷̫̅͋̐m̵̛̩̮͚̈́̄e̷̻͖̳̔̒͐m̶̙̥̈́b̷̮̌e̵̫̲̯͆̌r̷͕̜͔͐̔͘ ̶͓̫̣̈͑̂̓ţ̶̹̗͔̇̅h̴͈̹̀̒a̴̘̗͑͌͠t̴̟̟̏̀͂̀~̵̮͗̆͆͝"

[emmatheyoshi]

Miriam: *walks up to Charlie holding a kitchen knife.*

Charlie: “Nonononono! Put that away, Miri.”

-Miriam takes the knife back to the kitchen.-

Charlie: “Al, your daughter just threatened me with a kitchen knife.”

Alastor: *looks up from his book, only to see that Miriam returned, wielding a butcher’s knife this time* That’s my girl.

[mcltiples]

send “OBSERVE”for a mini-drabble of how my muse sees and/or thinks about your muse while they do something completely ordinary. || accepting

@countlessrealities sent; “OBSERVE” [[ Alastor for Vox ofc 🙄 ]]

Now that they were romantically involved, Alastor decided to fight against his ego to learn more about what his fiancé did. Something he wouldn't have really done back in the day when they were friends. He didn't give that kind of effort -- but, things were different these days. He was different.

And if his fiancé wanted to blabber on about technology, then he would have to just sit there and listen.

While he followed Vox around, he couldn't help to notice something off. Whenever he got slightly too close, the other would pull back and put more distance between them. Oh, was that because of the last encounter they had?

How foolish. He didn't think his fiancé was that sensitive. Maybe, though, it was something he could really understand. Relationships weren't something he knew all too well about. So it could be that he misread the kind of reaction he should have gotten.

Well, he could easily fix that. He was quick on his feet, gluing himself to the other's side, intertwining their fingers together, arms almost linked in a way. It would earn a pause in speech, to which he would reply to. "Continue."

It didn't seem to help though. He could feel the uneasiness that came off the other. It wasn't working and he could see that. However, it gave him a certain joy that he couldn't help to revel in. A sadistic type of pleasure. That he could torture the other with something so simple as this.

That's what he loved about Vox. He might have been a powerful Overlord, but the picturebox had softer moments of vulnerability. It was pathetic really. Something that he couldn't fully grasp in his head. Even if he knew better than to say that out loud, out of respect to not offend.

In a way, all of it was endearing. Vox was his special little demon that he could keep close to his heart. To keep around, toy with, hurt, and make happy. All in the same breath. The only way he really knew how to love.

[dysfunctionalcreature]

wait wait wait wait, imagine Vox tracking Alastor down to flirt with/fight him one day, and Alastor is busy hanging with Rosie when Vox finds him. And Vox starts going off, trying to provoke Alastor, so Alastor turns to Rosie and this convo happens:

Alastor: "Ough he's so annoying, he just won't leave me alone. I don't know who he thinks he is! He isn't even half as evil as me, why is he wanting to fight?? He's pathetic."

Rosie, with her amazing gaydar: "Awwe, don't be too hard on him Alastor, I'm sure he's trying his best, you know, courting can be tricky here in hell."

Alastor, oblivious aroace™: "What??"

Rosie, clarifying: "I mean, he's clearly just lovesick. I think it's kinda sweet actually-"

Alastor: "HE'S WHAT???!"

[benjimatorarts]

Vaughn's first time hunting with Alastor.

A lot of this was based on @random-emerald-thoughts and I's convos back and forth about these two hunting. Again, blame her for my hazbin brain rot.

Artist notes:

This comic was definitely a learning curve for me. An on and off again project of 3 months. Drawings guns and writing are not my strong suit but were still fun to work on! And I don't think this is the last time we'll see them hunting.