#out of what is at that point a mere husk of a person. made a vessel solely for the blind worship of talent. and leave this virtual newborn

[narwhalandchill]

85 surgically implanted psychiatry degrees and still lost the fight against clinical depression and existential nihilism day 1. everyone point and laugh please

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical

↳ song: si j'étais blanche—joséphine baker

↳ notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It wasn’t your fault you’ve always had a messed up sleep schedule

• Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldn’t give you a break even in death

• You weren’t exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night

• Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, they’d compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end you’d carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way

• The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until you’d started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind

• Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasn’t drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly

• In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out

• Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile

• You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear

• “I’m sorry—“ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. “—but you should have seen your face.” He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit

• “Hey! Watch it!”

• He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn star’s styled hair

• Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways

• Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass

• “Too much to drink?” She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if you’d wake if she pressed to hard

• Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now

• “Not exactly.” He huffed

• Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting

• Alastor had called everyone— more like demanded them —into the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact

• With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so

• You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids

• By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles

• But you? Well—

• “So!” Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. “What do you all thi— are they asleep.”

• Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake

• You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously

• “Uh, my bad?”

• Alastor’s smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half

• “Glad to know I’m keeping you entertained.” He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise

• You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastor’s least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles

• “Maybe we’ve had enough peer feedback for today—“ Vaggie cut in cautiously

• “I concur.” Came your quick agreement

• You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that

[barblaz-arts]

As someone who ships Chaggie as well, I want your opinion on this.

Someone made a kinda good point about Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship; the point being that there’s a power imbalance between them. Charlie is the princess of hell. She wouldn’t physically loose anything or be hurt physically if she breaks up with Vaggie. But Vaggie would loose both the love of her life and her home and friends if they break off. And so they see this toxic dynamic because Vaggie is “walking on eggshells” in order to stay in Charlie’s favor and not getting on her bad side.

So….thoughts?

The problem is people who say these things treat the terms "power imbalance" and "toxic" and "unhealthy" as the same things when they are not.

There is a power imbalance, yes, definitely. I constantly make jokes about the fact that Charlie and Vaggie have a forbidden love story in a Boss/Employee HR violation kinda way for pete's sake. It's just a lot more funny thinking about the fact that that probably has more weight than the demon/angel situation.

But the thing is, no matter what Charlie will ALWAYS have a power imbalance with whoever she dates because she is literally the princess of Hell, as they have said. Even if she dates a fellow hellborn royal, the fact that Charlie is in a higher position of power will always be a fact because her parents are literally the only ones above that. So what? Should she just not date anyone??? Also, isn't the one has a higher position of power but still loves the other a super popular ship trope? Rich x poor. Royalty x commoner. Goddess/immortal x normal human. Popular in school x the social loser. The list goes on. So why is it a problem now?

The fact that they think Vaggie "walks on eggshells" around Charlie is a bit...? I'm just a little confused you know? Vaggie is definitely not afraid of Charlie. When they had their fallout, she wasn't afraid of losing the things she was dependent on Charlie if they ever broke up(i.e. a home, her safety, money etc) because Vaggie damn well knows Charlie wouldn't do that. Everyone in hell knows Charlie goddamn Morningstar wouldn't do that. Vaggie was merely afraid of losing their relationship, which is a perfectly normal thing to be afraid of. Vaggie's dedication to Charlie isn't rooted in fear, it's rooted in devotion in the name of what she thinks the person she loves deserves.

The thing that makes Chaggie so great despite that power imbalance is the fact that Charlie is an absolute sweetheart. She isn't the kind of person who would take advantage of that power and Vaggie, as someone who knows her so well, is perfectly aware of that. Vaggie is safe with Charlie in every way that matters, and this is where toxicity and the unhealthy elements come into play.

Charlie and Vaggie as individuals have all the ingredients for an unhealthy relationship. As Husk so plainly pointed out, Charlie would rather fix everyone else's problems than help herself. Meanwhile Vaggie has deep self-hatred that seeps into how she feels about everyone but Charlie. They're both the type of people who would rather think about others rather than themselves. This is the root of their codependency, and why their relationship can be quite unhealthy. It's extremely evident with Vaggie, which makes perfect sense since she probably never saw herself as a person before Charlie.

Those flaws can so easily be taken advantage of in a relationship, but the thing is, do they do that? Do either of them think the other ever would? As Rosie did say...

While Charlie likes to shoulder everyone else's problems, Vaggie looks at the love her life and decides she'll take some of that load so she doesn't get crushed under the weight of the world. Vaggie reels Charlie in by being the realist to Charlie's dreamer. Vaggie used to essentially be Heaven's living weapon, but she has now sworn to be the armor for someone who looks out for everyone but herself.

On the other hand Vaggie's self-worth is shrewed because she's an ex-soldier who thinks she should always be under someone's service to be deserving of anything. But here Charlie is who constantly calls Vaggie her partner and blatantly treats Vaggie as an equal and still loves Vaggie "more than anything" and doesn't doubt that Vaggie loves her in return even after finding out Vaggie's lie and true origins.

So are they good for each other? Maybe not, but there's still more of the show to see. They can be unhealthy, but not to the point that being together damages each other in any significant way. Their relationship is imperfect, which is fine. No relationship is. Especially not in fucking HELL. And perfect for a story because, yunno... They are still in an ongoing story. They aren't a lost cause yet. It's something they can develop from, something we can get to SEE them develop from.

Are they toxic though?? Are they harming each other physically, emotionally, sexually, or financially? Definitely not. Because although whether they're good FOR each other still remains to be seen, it is an undeniable fact that they are good TO each other, despite all the ways they could not be. The unhealthy elements are due to how they treat themselves, but their relationship can't be deemed toxic because of how they treat each other. And for now, that's what matters and that's why I love this ship.

[irkimatsu]

God will never stop my sinful hand. More Husk/Reader! Clothes stay on but it's still spicy, gonna call 18+ on this one. Husk gets to nut his pants, good for him. You and Husk make out, you discover that his wings are an erogenous zone, and good times are had by all. Completely gender-neutral reader, nothing to point it in any direction gender-wise. This is about making Husk moan, that is all

Your relationship with Husk has progressed over the past few months.

What state it’s progressed to, you’re not quite sure. You’re far from the point of declaring undying love for each other; hell, Husk is hesitant about the word “love” in general. He doesn’t want to say it, and he doesn’t want to hear it. You haven’t had sex with him, either; you have no idea how you’d ask, and he hasn’t broached the subject himself.

But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t done anything together that could be construed as special. Even if he’s in no rush to define whatever it is you two have going on, he’s still shown you plenty of his romantic side. He likes taking you out for dinner and shows, events that are way too fancy for you to merely think of them as friendly outings.

The amount of times you’ve come home from a play to immediately make out in one of your rooms, before falling asleep in the same bed, made things seem even less “friendly”.

You didn’t even need the excuse of a date to start making out. Some nights, like tonight, all it took was some drinks and conversation at the hotel bar before you were both sure that the rest of the hotel was asleep or otherwise absent. As soon as he knew it was safe to close down for the night, the two of you headed up to his room for some soft jazz music and some tender, passionate kissing. He used to be so withdrawn with you, as if afraid you’d shatter if he touched you too firmly, but he’s gotten more bold recently, taking it upon himself to hold you close in his arms.

There’s no way you’d tell him, but you prefer cuddling with him when he’s dressed down like this, only wearing suspenders without a shirt. His fur is so soft and warm, and the fewer layers of clothing between you and it, the better.

You know to be careful with your compliments. He’s confided in you that he can’t stand what he’s become as a demon, and that he wishes he still had his human body.

But you can’t deny it. Some of your favorite parts of him, physically, are the parts that aren’t human.

His hat came off his head shortly into the proceedings, so you’re free to comb your hand through the tuft of hair on his head. It’s much more messy and wild than it is on your dates; he has zero reason to style it when he’s wearing his hat. You love it like this, though. It’s one of the softest things you’ve ever touched. Could human hair ever glide beneath your fingers this wonderfully?

You’re trying not to think of it as “petting” him. You know he hates that word. Perhaps “stroking” would work better for him? You stroke the top of his head, then move down to scratch the back. He stays calm, still kissing you like normal, so you keep moving until both of your hands reach the backs of his ears.

He jolts back from the touch.

“Sorry!” you cry out immediately. “Was that too far?”

“I’m sensitive back there,” he says, one ear still twitching from the contact. “Could you warn me next time?”

“Sorry!” you repeat. You know his irritability isn’t personal against you, but you still hate hearing that tone from him…

“It’s fine,” he says, quickly softening now that the shock is wearing off. “I didn’t hate it. You just gotta warn me before you do stuff like that.”

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask. “I can leave if you want me to.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He’s smiling again as he pulls you against his body. “Mind doing that again, now that I’m expecting it?”

You nod, and as he resumes kissing your mouth, you go back to scratching his ears. It’s a weird feeling, being able to touch someone like this during a make-out session; but you appreciate the novelty, especially when every inch of him feels so perfect beneath your fingers.

“Can you go lower?” he asks. “While scratching like that?”

You accept his request, scratching your way from his ears to his cheeks. His fur is so thick here, and it’s hard for you to pull your hands away from how divine it feels, but you have so much more to explore. You continue your scratches down to his neck, then to his shoulders. One of his suspender straps slips off while you’re scratching, and you’re dying to see how he looks when he’s slightly disheveled.

But looking would require you to stop kissing him, and you’re not ready to stop yet.

You’re so eager to feel even more of him. You touch him lower, reaching the small of his back and rubbing the spot where his wings meet his body.

He gasps and pulls away from you again. It takes him a moment to catch his breath.

“Husk?” you ask, not entirely sure what you did but already regretting it.

“...shit.” He exhales heavily. “Shit. Haven’t been touched there in a long time…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Uh…” he laughs nervously. “Not wrong, but… you probably shouldn’t do that. Not unless…” He stops himself and shakes his head. “No. You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” It didn’t look like it hurt him…

“It’s… an intimate spot.” Even through his fur, you can see him blushing. “Wings are sensitive. You shouldn’t touch them unless you want to turn somebody on.”

That information, combined with the sight of him with his suspender straps hanging off his shoulders, is turning some interesting gears in your head.

A playful smile grows on your face. “So what you’re saying is, if I want to turn you on…” You lean in closer, but don’t touch him yet; it’s up to him to close the gap if he so chooses.

Husk swallows. “If you want to…” He places his paws on your sides, holding you as timidly as he did when things first started. “I don’t wanna rush you into that, though.”

“You’re not rushing me.” You gently kiss his nose and scratch one of his cheeks.

You think you hear a purr in his throat, but you know better than to bring it up.

“Then go ahead,” he says, uttering it quickly to reduce the amount of time he has to spend not holding and kissing you. You quickly get back into the rhythm of things, repeating your hands’ earlier motions. He remains calm as you scratch his ears, his cheeks, his shoulders…

His waist bucks up into you when you touch the base of his wings, but he doesn’t pull away.

You start out slowly and fleetingly, not sure how much pressure he needs to feel the effects of your touches. Clearly it doesn’t take much. Within seconds, he’s squeezing you tightly and moaning into your mouth.

Where else is he sensitive, you wonder? You slowly run your fingertip along the edge of one of his wings, and his whole body shivers against yours.

“Fuck…” he mutters beneath his breath before kissing you again. “Gentle…”

You follow his request, lightly petting his wing with a single finger. It’s still enough to get him to kiss you harder and keep cursing under his breath. You run your finger back down to the joint and start pressing, steadily becoming more firm in your touch to test his reaction.

You eventually reach a point that makes him cry out, then breathe too heavily to kiss you anymore.

“Fuuuuuck…” His eyes are unfocused, and he seems unsure of what to do with himself. “Give me a second…”

You take your hands off of his body to let him compose himself. Once he’s finally aware of his surroundings again, he rests his head on your shoulder and squeezes your waist in his arms. He’s nuzzling his soft cheek against your neck, and you don’t know if it’s making you feel more ticklish or aroused.

Both? Fuck, definitely both.

“Could you scratch under them?” he asks.

You place your hands beneath his wings and begin to scratch the joints from that angle. His feathers brush against your hands as he lightly flaps to your touch, and his hot breaths on your neck are rapidly increasing in strength and tempo.

“Harder,” he moans through gritted teeth, and you comply. The sounds he’s making now are downright lewd, mixed with the occasional inhuman growl. He’s grinding his waist against your leg, and even with his pants still on it’s obvious how excited you’re making him. His current behavior is so undignified for the gentleman who’s been taking you on dates and playing you songs for the past few months.

It’s a side of him you want to see even more of.

“Fuck, I can’t stop…” he squeezes your leg between his own and grinds furiously, his rapid breaths turing into high-pitched whines. “Fuck, fuck-”

You keep on touching him, delighting in how badly it’s making him squirm. 

“Gonna- fuck-” He lifts his waist as if he’s trying to pull away from you, but the death grip his legs have on you won’t allow it. “I can’t-”

“Go ahead,” you assure him, rubbing his wing joints just a little harder.

Whether it’s from the touch or the permission, you’ve awakened something inside him. Still a mess of growls, moans, and whines, he latches his mouth onto the side of your neck and starts nipping while his hips grind furiously into your leg. You moan along with him, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself stable just as much as they are to please him. It’s not long before he’s moaning against your neck as a wet spot pools in the spot where he’s still humping you.

He falls limp in your arms, and you immediately relieve the pressure on his wings, instead choosing to gently stroke his lower back. His breathing is heavy, but steady as he nuzzles into your neck again.

“Fuck…” His vocabulary isn’t the most varied right now.

He seems so spent after that, so you carefully lay him stomach-down on the bed, making certain not to give his surely-sensitive wings the slightest bit of stimulation. He folds his arms beneath his chin, and he laughs.

“Haa… gotta do that again. It’s been forever since I felt that good…”

You’d love to cuddle him in this state, but until you can figure out how to do that without disturbing his wings, you’ll settle for sitting next to him and watching him relax.

“Hey… Husk?” You ask. “I wanna ask you something…”

“Hm?” He doesn’t open his eyes as he answers.

“Would you have let someone else do that? Would you have enjoyed it as much?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s frowning in concern, forehead creased, but still not opening his eyes.

“It’s just… I don’t know what we are. Are we together, or…?”

He reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. “I don’t like putting names on this stuff. It’s just asking for trouble. All I know is that I only want to be touched like that by someone I really trust, and right now, the person I trust that much is you.”

“And if you trusted someone else…?”

He’s laughing again. “Someone else, when I have you already? Not happening. Come on. Lay down with me.”

You lay on your stomach beside him, and he drapes his arm around you and pulls you against his side. His wing descends on you, and he winces slightly from the touch, but it’s not enough to keep him from covering you like a blanket.

“And you know…” he continues. “Not that I wanna control you… but I’d like knowing you don’t touch anyone else like that.”

“Someone else, when I have you already?”

He makes a low, amused noise as you parrot his words back at him. “Okay… good.” He squeezes you close and kisses your cheek. “Now, tell me something else.”

“What is it?”

“I wanna return the favor. Where should I start?”

[bimobuddy]

Feeling Better

Hazbin TK fic

Lee!Alastor, Lers! Husk and Niffty

Everything in this fic is platonic

Soft and caring Husk :]

CW: Alastor in the bath, but everything is covered and nothing NSFW happens, angst as per usual in my fics at this point, mention of blood, mention of scars and past trauma (brief)

Spoilers

Summary: Alastor, while quite the dapper gentlemen, smells like swamp and deer carcass, as that is what his bedroom is. After some back and forth, his companions decide to take it upon themselves to take care of the issue (and take care of him)

Edit: I dont think this was my best work

It was no secret that Alastor wasn't the cleanest person. He turned his bedroom into a swamp to feel more at home, and often left blood stains from his meals on his suit, leaving it to rot and smell.

However, what many people didn't know, is that he also wasn't the best at keeping up with hygiene. Something that only Husk and Niffty knew about him was that he despised bathing. They didn't know why, they just knew that he did.

And they put up with it.. For as long as they could.

As Alastor sat at the bar, Husk found himself scrunching up his nose. To be polite, he made sure no one was listening first, then he turned to his boss, ears down. "Jesus, Al, when's the last time you bathed?" The radio host stared at Husk, trying to intimidate him, but for once, Husk wasn't budging. "I'm serious, Alastor. Not only does it reek, but I'm sure you don't feel good either. Right?"

This caught him off guard. He wasn't used to people other than Charlie showing him genuine concern. His smile remained as normal, but the folding of his ears seemed to give away how he was feeling. "I'll admit it has.. been a while."

Husk nodded and leaned against the counter. "Then maybe you should do something about it?" He asked, raising a brow. The other demon seemed to go quiet. Husk studied him, as if trying to read his mind. "Maybe... We can do something about it then? Niff and I?"

As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, Niffty appeared out of seemingly nowhere, hopping up onto the counter. "You know you can trust us, Alastor! I like cleaning!" She grinned.

"And you know I'm not going to judge or tell anyone." Husk said, looking him in the eye. Alastor thought it over for a moment. Niffty and Husk were two out of a small select group of people he genuinely trusted the most. "Fine." He shrugged, trying to make it appear as if there wasn't a growing sense of unease and anxiety sinking into his stomach.

Husk nodded. "Niffty, why don't you go ahead and go run the bath for Al. Use my room, I don't trust that he even has a tub in his." Niffty gave a quick salute then hopped down from the counter, running off.

Husk turned his attention back to Alastor, lowering his voice. "Is there a reason you don't like bathing, Al?" He asked, catching the demon off guard. "Why Husker, what makes you ask such a silly little-" "Don't think you can fool me, I saw the way you froze earlier. Al, you might own my soul, and you might scare the shit out of me sometimes, but I don't hate you," this surprised Alastor, "I'm only asking so I know how to go about this properly. If there's something about it that bothers you, I don't want to force you into it."

Alastor looked back at Husk for a solid minute, thinking it over. He stood suddenly and started to walk toward the hallway, where Husk's room was, signaling the other to follow, which he did. Once they were alone, Alastor finally spoke.

"What I'm about to tell you does not leave that silly little kitty mouth of yours, understood? If I find out that-" "You have my word, Alastor, you don't have to threaten it out of me." ".....Right. Well- Thank you.. Husk."

It wasn't often that Alastor used his actual name instead of 'Husker,' but when he did, the cat felt a sense of equality between them. No longer 'Owner of Soul and Servant,' but like they knew each other. All the more reason he decided to take this issue seriously, for Alastor.

"While I was alive, let's just say I've been through a lot. In my life, over many years, and many incidents, I acquired many scars. Reminders. Let's just say I do not enjoy them. I hated them, and hated looking at them. I assume that is why fate decided they would stick with me even in the afterlife." There was a moment of silence before Husk replied, "They make you feel vulnerable again. They remind you of those.. incidents.. Don't they?"

Alastor didn't verbally respond, but the glance he gave him confirmed to Husk that he may have been correct about this. Husk nodded. "You can trust us, Al."

As they stepped into Husk's room, they noticed just how much effort Niffty had put into this. She had drawn a bath, filled it with bubbles, already gotten a towel ready, and fresh new clothes for Alastor, folded neatly by the sink. As the Radio Host looked closer, he noticed some of the holes and tears had been mended.

"Wow, Niff, I'm impressed." Husk said, taking his hat off. Another sign that this wasn't between co-workers, but friends. His hair was slicked back as usual, though Alastor hadn't seen it like that since the day he won his soul.

When Husk looked back at Alastor, he noticed the look in his eye, his posture, everything. The look of 'I am trying very hard to be okay with this.'

Husk gave him a slight nod before turning to Niffty. "Why don't we give him some space real quick, alright?" He turned to Alastor. "Go ahead and get yourself ready in the bathroom, we'll be right out here." As he walked past the deer demon, he lowered his voice again, "We won't leave you."

Alastor stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He did deep down truly appreciate how supportive Husk and Niffty were being, it did help him feel less.. anxious about everything. Though he also no longer felt like an overlord. He felt like a kid again. The constant reassurance, the sudden comfort and concern he was being shown.. It reminded him of his mother. It was hard to describe, but if he had to, he would have said he felt 'weak, but in a way that was okay with him.'

He got himself ready and sat himself in the bath, the heat of the water somehow immediately helping him relax more than he thought it would. He was grateful for the bubbles as well, not only did it cover him, but he wasn't able to see his scars that much.

There was a gentle knock, then Husk's voice. "Al?" Wanting to at least pretend he still had control, he replied, "Enter."

Husk opened the door and before he even got a full step in, Niffty darted in, grabbed Alastor's discarded clothes and then ran back out, fussing about the blood stains under her breath.

"... Alright, well while she goes and does whatever it is she's decided she's going to do, I'll get started, if that's okay with you." Husk said, shutting the door behind him. Alastor nodded. It did feel odd to him to have someone elss in the room, but he reminded himself that he could trust the bartender.

As Husk stepped closer, he did catch a glimpse of a couple scars, littered across his skin. He didn't mention them, instead grabbing a rag nearby that Niffty had left out. "I know you don't like being touched, so I'm warning you beforehand that I'm about to, so you don't kill me. Satan knows Niffty would fuss at you over the mess." He said, trying to lighten the mood a little. Though Alastor didn't laugh, his grin did widen slightly, indicating that it had worked.

Husk dampened the cloth and got started, touching it to Alastor's back. As the radio demon jumped a little and suddenly gripped the sides of the tub, he paused, gave him time to calm back down, and continued. He knew he could have laughed at him, teased him for being such a powerful demon scared of something as small as a bath, but he didn't. He wouldn't. Because he understood. Sure, he was a feared overlord, rivaling with the King of Hell himself, but before that, he was a person.

A person that, surprisingly, he had come to understand and even care about. As Alastor suddenly jolted again, letting out a sudden ring of static, Husk thought it was due to him being anxious again, only to see his shoulders shaking a little bit.

At first, he worried that Alastor either was in pain or had started crying (a thought that really concerned him), but as he looked down, he noticed he had the rag placed on the back of his ribs, and that Alastor was arching away from the touch. Now this was something he could tease him about.

"Ticklish, kid?" He grinned, making a point to wiggle his fingers through the rag, making Alastor do the radio feedback noise again. "I-I'm oholder thahan you, you ahabsolute-" "Yeah but you died younger than I did, I'm more of an adult than you are."

Alastor opened his mouth to argue, but Husk had already slipped the rag under his right arm, wiggling his claws through the thin fabric. The radio demon slammed his arm down, trying hard to keep it together. He shook with contained laughter, his grin wide and wobbly, ears pinned back. He was doing quite well until Husk suddenly skittered his claws along the back of his neck.

He scrunched his nose up and broke, giggling hysterically, reflexively kicking a leg out, causing a bit of water to splash over the side. "Hey," Husk playfully scolded, "Keep it together down there, you know Niffty is gonna chastise you about that later." "My floor!"

Husk and Alastor jumped, the latter accidentally letting out more mic feedback, as both startled at the sudden sound of Niffty. Neither had seen or heard her enter the bathroom. She huffed, hands on her hips. "You boys. Always giving me more work." She shook her head, hopping up on a stool left by the tub so she could reach Alastor.

"I swear she appears whenever her name is mentioned, did you do that when you got her soul?" Husk whispered. Alastor shook his head, his eyes showing he was just as freaked out as Husk was.

Niffty ignored them, filling a cup with water. "Ears," was all the warning she gave before she dumped it over the deer's head, giving him a split second to fold his ears back to protect them from the water. Husk had to bite back a chuckle as Alastor's hair fell into his face, covering his eyes. He almost resembled a grumpy, wet dog. He reached up and pushed his hair from his eyes, looking slightly annoyed, but Husk knew he had all the patience in the world when it came to Niffty. She could get away with anything.

Even when she started to work in the shampoo, scritching behind his ears. Alastor visibly tensed up, his cheeks turning pink (something Husk had never seen him do). The cat grinned at him, leaning on the edge of the tub. "Your ears are ticklish too?" He chuckled.

As muffled, staticky snickers bubbled out of the overlord, Niffty just smiled. "Husk, dont tease him when you're worse." This shut him up quickly, Husk pinning his own ears back grumbling. Alastor would have laughed at him, had he not already been fighting it back so hard.

When Niffty started to gently scritch at the base of his ears, he started to crack more, giggling louder, yet it was clear he was trying to sit still for her. "Pff- Hmph.. M-Mhmhmhmhm- hahahaha nohoho!" His eyes flew open to glare at Husk, who had picked the rag up to start at the other side of his ribs now, under his left arm.

Alastor's ears were flicking from Niffty's tickling, as he gripped Husk's wrist, more just to have something to ground himself rather than to push him away.

Husk gently scrubbed lower down his side, earning higher giggles before Alastor gasped and flinched away. He hadn't been hurt, but Husk knew it more him trying to avoid getting hurt before it actually happened. The slash he had gotten from Adam was still healing. "Relax, Bucky, I'm not gonna hit it." Husk said.

"Don't call me Bu-hahahaha!" He had gotten cut off when Husk simply switched to his other side.

"Ears." Niffty warned before immediately pouring water over his head again. Alastor coughed a little before lifting his bangs again. "Careful, Niff, don't drown him." Husk chuckled, giving him a break to catch his breath.

As Niffty hopped down off the stool, Husk tossed the rag to Alastor for him to get his own legs, making a joke about how 'I know neither of us want me reaching down there.'

Husk took a seat on the stool as Niffty ran back in with a jar. "What's that?" Husk questioned. "Hoof polish!" She grinned. Alastor let a quiet growl escape his throat, though it was more out of embarrassment than anger, making the cat laugh a little. "As funny as that would be Niffty, I don't think we need it. I'm not pampering his spoiled ass more than I have to." She nodded and ran back out of the room.

"I couldn't help but notice," Husk started, "That you didn't try very hard to get away from the ticklin', especially around your ears." He smirked. Alastor just threw a soft glare his way and didnt confirm nor deny anything.

Once Alastor was done, Husk turned his head away and handed him a towel, before leaving the bathroom to leave him to it.

Alone once again, Alastor took a moment to take in just how much better he felt. Not only physically, but mentally. In the past, bathing would drain him of his energy, leaving him mentally exhausted. But this time he felt better than ever. He looked over at his newly mended suit, patched up by Niffty.

She didn't have to do that.. But she did. Because she looked up to Alastor and cared for him. And Husk didn't have to sit with him the entire time and help him. But he did. Because he saw him as a friend.

He got dressed and left the bathroom, meeting Husk again in his bedroom. Husk's ear flicked as he heard the door open, and he looked up at Alastor. "Feeling better?" He asked.

Alastor walked past him, quickly scritching behind the cat's ears as he passed, earning a loud snort as his hand was batted away. "Much." He smiled, and headed back out to the lobby.

It may not have been a verbal 'thank you,' but Husk had gotten the message anyway.

[vellichorsmystique]

Tea in a Bar

⭒ Husk x gn!reader

⭒ w.c. ~1.9k

⭒ Meant to be read as a sort of pre-relationship ficlet. Just a silly little drabble I needed to get out of my system. Mainly fluff, implied (?) angsty undertones at some point, there is comfort.

⭒ No use of y/n... I mean Alcohol is mentioned? So fair warning for that, reader themself doesn't drink anything of the sort in this specific fic. No spoilers in terms of the Hazbin Hotel series.

⭒ A new sinner in the hotel only means another headache for Husk to endure as he listens through drunken rambles. However that doesn't appear to be the case as this specific sinner tends to just bask in his presence. There's not much to go on, and as much as he should be wary of them, he can't help but be intrigued.

The newest guest is strange. The thought brazenly bounces around Husks skull, as he discreetly flashes a few wary glances at the figure sitting at the bar top. He elects to ignore the fact that today's version of “discreetly” translated into occasionally looking up (to oogle) from the glass he had currently been wiping dry before peering back down. He also decides not to fixate on the truth that this is the same shot glass he had picked up an hour ago. 

It’s uncanny really, how can you sit there so serene, eyes closed in something akin to bliss? Husk is openly staring at you once more, mouth slanting into some sort of neutral frown, as you shifted in your spot on the flimsy stool. Every night without fail since your first appearance at the hotel, you seemed to have made it your personal goal to purposely confuse him. Why? He has absolutely no clue. His proof? Non-existent. 

That wasn’t even the infuriating part, it was merely the fact that your actions were definitely not motivated by some extrinsic goal, it wasn’t like you actively had it out for him. Husk prided himself on his exemplary skills of reading people and while there was this air of mystique that surrounded the likes of you (all too comfortably familiar to the source of his chained ire) you weren’t trying to usurp his current life. At least not in the moment that is. 

Before he can grumble internally about the stupid predicament he found himself in he becomes all too aware of the warmth of your scrutiny. Damn, sure he was doing a piss poor job at sneaking peeks at you, but he didn’t actually think you’d catch him. However something about the mirth swimming your eyes clues him in on the embarrassing fact this probably was not your first time catching him. Your lips curl into a light smile, the corners barely twitching at what he assumed to be withheld laughter. 

“Is there something wrong?” Your words are less of a question and more of a tease which only prompts a withering glare in your direction. Almost foolishly he hopes it’s enough to ward you off, it’s not of course, and he’s proven once more how futile it is for a sinner to do something as silly as hope. Unperturbed by his nasty stink eye, you rest your head in your palm and raise a brow in goading fashion. Ear twitching he goes back to dutifully swiping the glass held in his paws. 

“Nothing, just stuck wondering why there’s a fucking weirdo sitting at my bar?” You have the gull to wave him off with a bark of laughter. 

“Me? Weirdo? Unlikely,” His brow furrows at that as he flashes you an unamused look. 

“More likely than you seem to think, who sits at the bar hours on end, and doesn’t order anything to drink,” He tried to keep up with the insult, however as he rasped out the words, he couldn’t hide the genuine curiosity that filtered in the latter half of his statement. Your laughter subsides, and you idly trace a fingertip on the grains of  the bartop, lips quirked in gaiety. 

“Touche, but I raise you this, who uses a dirty rag to clean their glasses?” Subject change, of course, he honestly shouldn’t be surprised. 

“That–’ and he raises the shotglass higher more forcibly twirling the gunk filled rag around on the inside, ‘is very much intentional,” 

“Hmm, and that is exactly why I don’t get drinks here,” Grinning you leaned back on the stool, palms flat against the wooden top as you loosened some sort of crick in your neck. Your tone is too pacifying and he doesn’t buy it. Nose scrunching he rolls his eyes, before resting his forearm on the bar, brows raised knowingly at you. 

“But that’s not the reason,” And there it is, the enigmatic grin that should probably push him away instead of drawing him in closer. Something swims in the depths of your eyes, something that one day he’ll decipher, but for now whatever you're hiding under lock and key stays indiscernible for today. 

“No it’s not,” You echo demurely. He groans, he was too sober for all of your mental gymnastics. The conversation lulls for a moment or two before you tilt your head towards the array of spirits and liqueurs  behind him.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any sort of tea?” Tea? Seriously? He doesn’t waste breath looking, instead just briskly focusing on his task at hand.

“No, this is a bar– not some sort of fucking cafe,” Sighing almost wistfully you slide off the barstool, and he regards your actions in surprise. 

“What a shame, it’s getting late anyways I think now is a good time to start turning in for the night regardless,” He grunts, blinking slowly, was that what it took to get you to leave? Tail cutting through the air, he shrugs his shoulders brushing the thought away. It’s not like he cared that much…. 

“Oh and Husk?” Your voice takes a suspicious lilt that has his ears twitching. 

“Despite your choice of dish towel I’m pretty sure that shot glass is clean enough, you’ve been holding it for what– an hour now?” He slams the aforementioned glass on the grainy top as your laughter fades, but the worst part is he’s not even annoyed by the fact you were aware. Yeah… you were a really fucking strange guest here. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

You take longer than normal to come sit at the bar. He ignores the discomfort that prickles at the realization. Just when he decides to go ahead and begin the methodical process of closing everything up for the night, he hears the lobby doors open. The sound echoes in the expanse of the empty lobby, and finally through slitted irises he can make out your silhouette tiredly plodding through. 

Back and shoulders hunched, you look withdrawn, a total one-eighty from your normally exuberant personality you always seemed to have when you pestered(read: visited) him. Footfalls heavy, the bar stool croaked when you finally settled over it. Yawning, your upper half pitched forward, and you pressed your face into your crossed arms on the table. 

“‘llo Husk,” the words are a mumbled and muffled mess emanating from the crook of your arm where your head was buried. If it weren’t for the ear he had angled in your general direction he probably would not have picked up on it. Frowning, he glanced down at his paws. Today was different, you never seemed like the type to “showcase” your more or less weak spots where others could see? Something in the sinner’s chest seizes up. Was this an inadvertent form of trust? Deciding not to dwell for too long on the implications for such an idea, he instead coughs out loud into his fist. Rather dramatically. 

“The fuck’s up with you?” And he hates the fact you’ll notice the bite gone from his voice. Almost petulantly your shoulders rise and fall, a vague impression of a shrug due to your current position. 

“Alright, not in a talking mood then, fine,” He gets it, and he wasn’t going to push or prod your boundaries just to satiate the itch of curiosity. Peripherals catching the tell tale sign of movement his slit pupils lock onto your own irises from where you angled your head to the side in order to properly look at him. Expression almost distraught, he can only watch the way you tug your lip against your teeth internally battling over something. Before you sniffle and rasp out quietly. 

“I just… don't want to be alone in my room right now,” The admission is point blank, no allusions, or disarming smiles to disguise the truth. Some remote part of his brain will probably play the vulnerability of this moment on replay when he’s alone in his bed, with a pillow to bury himself into. For now, he elects to breeze past the info, mentally tiptoeing around whatever aftershocks your bombshell just resulted in. 

“Well if ya don’t want to talk, then maybe you’ll want a drink instead,”  Your expression twists, and you move to sit up some sort of reply building on the tip of your tongue, before he is turning his back to you. When he’s facing you once more your eyes widen to see not a shot glass in his hand, but a teacup. It’s humorous really, the cup disproportionate to the size of his clawed fingertips, still he holds the most likely plastic chalice like it’s fine china. 

All too soon the cup is waiting to be sipped from in front of you, and Husk is left to tap a claw rhythmically as he waits for you to taste test it. You hands wrap reverently around the drink, and you bring it up closer in order to properly take a whiff. As you nurse the steaming cup in your grasp he can make out the light aroma of apples and some more floral notes. With his freehand he scratches at the fur on his nape, prickling as he awaits your verdict. 

“It’s uh…”

“Chamomile,” You softly answer for him, still entranced by the liquid.

“Yeah, that,” When you finally look at him your eyes are wide and mouth parted ever so slightly; you were looking at him as if what he just handed you was a free get into heaven ticket, and not some mediocre tea he had made in wait for you to arrive. He breaks eye-contact, blood roaring in his ears as goes back to tapping some sort of melody on the wood. You finally bring the vessel to your lips savoring the taste of the tea, and a syrupy sweet grin inches across your expression. Husk finds the grin to fit better than that frown from earlier. 

Tea long since finished, he found himself caught in idle chatter as he scrubbed away the days worth of muck and stains. This time armed with a moderately cleaner rag thanks to your insistence. Tone impossibly fond you spiel your thanks once more.

“Really Husk, thank you, the tea was the perfect pick-me-up,” 

“Ah, quit blowing it out of proportion. I didn't do much,” You only laugh once more at his vehemence in not accepting your gratitude. Humming thoughtfully, you straightened up as an idea struck. 

“You know…Chamomile is absolutely divine when mixed with Vodka,” Husk sends a prudent glance in your direction. Though you can practically see the interest he has in the idea with how he paused everything he was doing. Almost in accusation he raises an offending claw. 

“I thought you didn’t drink?” the cheeky grin you reply with almost has him roll his eyes. 

“I never said I didn’t, I just prefer my spirits mixed with tea. They tend to mesh deliciously,” The corners of his lips lift into a barely there crooked grin as he shakes his head. 

“No I guess you didn’t” he echoes in reply.  Before you leave, much later compared to the past, you mention something about green tea and whiskey. A combination he would have to try tomorrow when you would decide to visit the bar. Distantly he found himself looking forward to what would undoubtedly be more visits from you. All for the tea and booze of course…. And maybe just maybe you too.

⭒ end notes: guys I'm so rusty-- ignore any and all spelling/grammar mistakes it's almost 3am as of posting, and I have a 9am lecture tomorrow. Honestly HH has like become my new hyper fixation so maybe I'll write some more stuff for it we'll see. If not, guess I'll see ya'll again in nine months when I'm suddenly struck with the urge to write something </3 /hj I definitely want to be more active and make more indulgent things so I look forward to it!!

[sunrayram]

You mentioned Angel Dust becoming friends (?) with Alastor in your AU, so what is their relationship like? Did being humbled by Husk soften Alastor's rough edges?

So Angel Dust and Alastor have a very ... interesting relationship. In the beginning, Alastor cannot stand Angel Dust. The flirting gets on his nerves, and he's already on a short fuse. In turn, Angel just thinks Alastor is an angry asshole, always two seconds away from snapping. He reminds Angel a lot of the guys he'd met in the mafia, honestly. So yeah, they really don't get along, until episode 4.

Husk doesn't call out Angel for being fake this time, because Angel just isn't his focus at this point. Instead, this episode opens with Alastor finally really snapping at Angel, genuinely scaring the other man after a sex joke goes to far. Shaken up, Angel gets called in by Valentino. The incident with Charlie and Val in the studio happens as it does in canon, and Angel returns to the hotel bruised and battered. Angel's looking for a sharp edge to self-destruct against, so when he runs into Alastor that night, he pushes against his boundaries again. Alastor flies off the handle. He threatens to kill Angel, to make it hurt, but Angel's so upset that he doesn't take any of Alastor's threats seriously. Or, well, he's taking them seriously, he just doesn't care.

But Alastor's biggest trigger right now is not being heard/people steamrolling over his wants, so Angel is fucking with him like nobody's business. The fight ramps up higher and higher until Husk comes down and pulls them apart. Husk tears into Alastor, and it makes him so upset that he almost destroys the parlor and rushes away to his room. Husk, having only seen Alastor looming over Angel and genuinely thinking that Alastor was going to maim him, tries to apologize to Angel for Alastor's behavior. But in that moment, having watched Husk pull Alastor back by the throat mere minutes before, Angel can't really respond.

Exhausted by this whole awful day, Angel goes to his room to pass out. He wakes up in the middle of the night (I hc Angel Dust has trauma-induced insomnia and it is a bitch) and goes to get a drink. There, he finds Alastor again. He's locked himself up in the kitchen (an area Alastor had firmly claimed as his own as soon as he came to the hotel) Angel sits against the locked door in silence for awhile, and then, hesitantly, he apologizes. He says that he didn't want to be the kind of person that pushed someone that far. He says that in the moment, he was just looking for a way to take control of the pain he was feeling. He felt like if he was the one causing the pain to himself, it wasn't that bad.

There's a moment of silence, and then the radio on the lounge table crackles to life. Alastor quietly says that he doesn't want to open the door. Angel gets up to leave, but Alastor clarifies that he didn't mean Angel should go. Alastor says that he knows what it feels like to have no control. He confesses that he can't remember the last time he had control over anything. Angel tells Alastor that he has control here. Unlike earlier, Angel was listening, and he wasn't going to open the door. The two of them spend the rest of the night there. Not really talking, not really performing, just ... existing. Angel eventually falls asleep, and Alastor leaves the meal he made laid out for Angel when he wakes up.

There's a companionship, after this. Both of them can be too much for the other sometimes, but they know when to stop now. If there was a phrase I'd use to describe their relationship after this point, well, the first one would be trauma-bond, but the second would be casual ride-or-die. Like, "This guys pretty cool, I guess you could call us acquaintances, I can tolerate him I suppose - touch him and I'll tear you apart limb from limb :)"

Also, just to clarify, neither of them are "better" bc of this. Angel still put on his heavy front, and Alastor still spends most days feeling like a ticking time bomb. But it's a first step that will lead to better things eventually. Hopefully.

[simp-ly-writes]

Chapter Three: In Dreams

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.4)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: With the chance to sleep again, you find new definitions to peace that leave you picking up the pieces left from finally answered questions. But were they better left unanswered after all?

Warnings: 3123 words, mentions of violence and mental health, possible gore and death.

A/N: I have written this all so quickly, wow it has been awhile since I have felt this passionate about writing someone- thank you all seriously for the support!!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

Lucifer took a stroll around the gardens that had become overgrown. He didn’t have the heart to weed the poisonous vines that strangled the various flowers underneath, he watches as each thorne moved every so slightly to stab the stem, the petals soon fall in on themselves, the others trying to stand become covered as the same fate plays out before all those left standing. 

The King did not know how much time had passed, multiple servants had come running into the greenhouse, waiting for his attention only to be teleported out of the room a moment later with a mere twitch of his finger. It was in times like these that the royal wished he could dream- losing himself in fantasy, in hope, and in memory.

Clapping his hands together and casting them outwards, gold strings appeared like rays of sunlight through the panes as a herd of ducks wattled their way round his feet. Tilting his head to the side, you appeared materializing through the door and drifting over to him. You did not speak a word. Only standing as he sat there on the bench describing his day, the tea chosen during the afternoon and the evening decisions he made for after the upcoming extermination. 

He chuckled to himself, head shaking before falling to his chest. “You know darling, when I gave that little piece of me, I ended up giving all of me… how pathetic am I…” his laughter only grows as the staff members in wait all bow their heads, doing their best not to listen as their hearts ache. They could only pray that those sightings were real and pray to heaven and back that Lucifer would listen. 

--

“I won a sex-award for this performance, its show and tell… is this not?” Angel Dust comments towards Charlie who hides away from the moans and grunts exiting the speakers. You stand there still behind the box, pretending to trip over the extension cord while mouthing a sorry. Vaggie gives you a thumbs up in thanks before hugging the distressed Charlie in her arms. 

“That was not a good irrigation,” Husk comments, walking over to the crowd while cleaning a cup between his hands. “Well what would you know about a good performance, whiskers?” Angel Dust retorts with a huff, legs kicking over the sofas armrest. 

“Everyone bitches to the bartender, there is not a single thing that I do not know about any of you at this point. You consistently bitch and moan outside of porn as much as you do in it about your boss,” Husk replies, now pouring himself a drink in the fresh glass. 

“Well then prove it,” the Spider comments back childishly as Husk lets out a large huff of air- pointing first at Sir. Pretentious, “That one is an insecure buffoon who watches everyone sleep and the Princess has a bleeding heart of daddy issues that this one,” he waves the neck of the bottle towards you, “refuses to speak to and don’t think yourself to be out of this either Vaggie because you pretend to hate everyone when you really hate yourself. And then there is Nifty…. Nothing more to be said on that.”

Angel Dust blows up with laughter as you are still reeling in this information. You don’t notice as he leaves for work as Charlie desperately tries to pull him back in for the remainder of the exercises, taking this as your cue- you retreat back to your room.

--

You had requested for some art supplies the next time the Hotel was to receive its shipment of goods. You clapped your hands, overjoyed at the colours you had chosen, so neatly arranged in their glass bottles. Fresh Paint brushes with green wooden handles gleaned happily in your face with the wood finish. So enamoured by the supplies, you got straight to work painting the view out your window. 

Pentagram city glowed all throughout the day, its red sky almost caving in the city below with how much blood could be found on the streets. The buildings of all shapes, colours, and sizes sprouted from the earth- trying to escape the destruction but as your brush drifted to paint heaven in the sky, the light blue on your brush hovered as you second-guessed including it in your work. 

Cleaning your brush in an empty jar, you set the cityscape to dry on your balcony as your mind soon turned itself off, you were losing yourself to the art, the barriers that you had created for yourself, burying yourself in work and meetings- now all coming undone in a fiery burst of passion- your hand moving feverishly across the canvas. 

Becoming lost, paint stroke after paint stroke, a voice drifts just behind your ears, as if they were a person in passing, ““You know darling, when I gave that little piece of me, I ended up giving all of me… how pathetic am I…” Looking back at your canvas, you painted your first memory of being in the Garden, eyes blown wide as you walk around ahead of the King and Queen- excitement had taken over any formalities you had prior to entering the space. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, hiding the painting away only to hear a meow just below your feet. 

Leaning the canvas against the food of your bed, you pick up KeeKee, giving the hair between her ears a light pat before coo-ing, “Everything alright?” The cat looks up at you with big eyes, nose pointed towards your door as you follow the silent command. Just as you are about to let the creature go, her claws dig into your shoulders with a wince- making her choice clear. You were making your way downstairs together. 

--

When you descend the stars, pausing just before the last couple of steps, you observe a destroyed bar, crying Charlie and pissed Vaggie. You hold your tongue, hand drifting its way through KeeKee’s fur for reassurance. Alastor appears behind you, just a few steps above as he leans on the railing, silently observing the scene paying out before him. 

“I am not so sure Angel Dust will be okay… I-I really messed up today. He got…It was not good. I pushed too hard earlier and things only got worse. So in light of that! I am going to write tomorrow's lecture on boundaries with a side of one-hundred apology letters,” Charlie states, her tone changing from one of sadness to another of light presenting you with a form of whiplash that has your head spinning- trying to keep up. 

Husk storms out the building soon afterwards, on a personal mission to hunt down Angel Dust and bring them both back to the Hotel safely. “Never a dull day it is here,” Alastor comments, “I second that,” is all you reply with before KeeKee is jumping out of your hands and disappearing into the shadows. Vaggie turns to you both, “looks like we will be cleaning up then in the meanwhile…” and clean up you do. 

--

While taking over Husks position behind the bar, you cork open a bottle of wine, pouring out glasses for everyone that stumbles through the door. Vaggie holds her hand out, murmuring a thanks before necking the glass down while Alastor inspects his jacket, finger swirling around the rim of the glass. You point the bottle towards Charlie, silently asking if she wants a drink as she shakes her head and you pour the rest out for Angel Dust and Husk who appear in brighter spirits. 

“I AM SO, SO, SOO SORRY!” Charlie runs up, squeezing the lemons out of Angel Dust who pats the top of her head awkwardly at first before returning the hug, “It’s alright dollface, I get it. Thank you for caring about me…”

With that being said, Charlie practically chokes the Spider that has him extending his other limbs ushering her in the direction of Vaggies arms who carries her away and up to bed for the day. Husk knocks his head to the side, a silent request for your to get the fuck out from behind his bar. 

--

Sleep had finally found you that night, your eyelids rest to the blackness that surrounds your mind. You feel your covers around you, warming your body as you shift slightly throughout the night. Yet a wetness peaks at your foot, covering your blanket as rain falls once more. It shatters your blanket like pebbles thrown against glass. As you hug yourself from the attack. Your bed rocks back and forth as you look over the edge. High waves you float on, almost going overboard as you desperately grip the headboard. 

Walk… an echoing voice appears in your head, Walk… to me…. Dipping your toes in the frigid waters, you curse out before trying to take a stand. You witness the water level gradually lower with every step you take, you walk freely in the ankle deep waters as they ripple underneath. Carry Forth… The voice motivates you to carry forth as the landscape overhead shifts to a sunrise- you cannot tell where the water ends and the sky begins in this reflection- you become breathless at the sight. It was ethereal. 

A figure soon appears on the horizon and you can take no further step as a light pressure holds your body still. It is as if every inch of your skin is being casted in a hug by light itself. Your breath shutters from the sensation and before you appear a figure incomprehensible to size, they take over the sky before you, white robes drifting like clouds in the sky as a singular finger is offered to shake your hand. 

Their touch is featherlight, knowing of their power. You crane your neck upwards- trying to catch a glimpse of their face yet the light burns your irises as you cast your head down. A chuckle creates waves around you, your body moving without control, pleading for them to cease. A piece of cloth drifts its way over to you, sitting still against the rising waters as you sit on its surface cross-legged. 

You try to speak to the creature before you but you find your voice sealed away- as if it would disturb the peace created here. You watch as fish begin to spawn in the waters, they drift in packs back to the direction of your bed, a snake chases forth as is herding them away. We speak our minds in the literal, the voice softly comments in your head, I hear without the need to speak, to pray, or to sacrifice. You wish to know why you have been brought forth- yet an answer spoken now will led to an endless stream. 

You tilt your head, still casting your head downwards to watch as the creatures all play amongst one another in the ocean below. You can no longer see the bottom, your stomach clutches with unease yet that familiar pressure against you skin has you unable to think of anything else. I am creation as I am fate, your path interrupted has corrupted the ocean, the skies, and the creatures. I have presented you with breath as I do so again. You were not created for this life you live nor for my siblings who sign for your eyes. But I will not have the destruction of all that has to be broken in your absence. 

You speak in riddles, you think to the apparent deity as the waves uproar once more, their laughter blessing their ears as the sunsets and their grandeur falls till they are only just taller than yourself. They sit on the watertop, their face no longer hidden as you gasp at their appearance. They only smile in reaction before summoning a tea set for you both to indulge with. 

Blonde hair, rosy cheeks and grey skin greet your eyes, This is the King's brother... You watch as they laugh out, the wave movements now rain filling your cups as he brings them both up for a cheer. Funny to hear a brother of mine to be addressed with such frivolous titles- even more so when coming from someone dear but perhaps unknowing? 

I still question to this day the truth in it all, you admit while taking your first sip, eyes closing to the perfect temperature of the tea. An art form, questioning is- could be considered a science. It is relentless in the wrong hands and plagues the people. 

We live life in question, is that not what it means to be… human? You question out, not thinking of an answer to be possible and even if there was one, it would quite possibly be past your comprehension. The dietary hums out before you, your cup never emptying as they set their own down against the floating table. Subjective that is, truth- yes but never entirely is anything- even the definite. Alas, I am only an acquaintance to death who would define the truth to humanity. Us immortals never grasp the concept of living- no matter the effort placed. Yet it is in these thoughts that I have learned you are for. 

You rest your cup on the table as they hold out their white-gloved hand and your world swirls face falling into the waters below as you look through someone else's eyes. A guard stands silently in your… office. You gasp as does the guard you inhibit. Your eyes snap upwards to see a growling Lucifer, “I have requested for silence during my studies- need I remind you to not look into my eye?” 

Your breath hitches, eyes going wide as you take in the King's dishevelled appearance, your desk scattered with papers, your walls covered in illustrated memories yet other than that- not a singular thing has been misplaced. You shake your head, bowing it before the royal as he walks back behind your desk without a second glance, staring at the various maps you spent decades drawing to pin-point precision. 

The coldness of the water has you gasping and flailing your own libs as you are taken back to the cloths and seas, back before the sitting the deity who hums out a soothing tone once more. I cannot have the mis-balancing of death. That is why I personally ensure your return as in return I present you with the final bow. You WILL meet my brother when he arrives in due time and I cannot speak more without the worrying of fates. 

But- you start to protest without taking another thought, your emotions in a whirlwind yet nothing disrupts the peaceful atmosphere of your dream and the deity before you. With a wave of their hand you are flown back into your bed, underneath the covers that absorb every drop of sea that has touched your skin and you wake up with a silent scream. Hells red skies before you and the relentless city bustling just underneath. 

Your earlier painting of the cityscape and the Garden were not where you left them last. They are now found hanging in front of your bed, staring into you, into your subconscious as you debate between dreams in reality as you wake your way into the elevator and down the stairs where breakfast waits freshly prepared.

--

You look around the breakfast nook in the kitchen, confused when a lack of a certain Princess and accompanying girlfriend are not present at the table. Setting your plate down beside Husks, you take your tea cup with you and into the sitting room where various red strings create a jungle of vines between colourful doodles and sleepless notes. 

A stressed Vaggie addresses a sleep-deprived Charlie who rushes around, clutching her hair in frustration, “WHY WONT THIS HOTEL JUST WORK!” you wince at the tone she yells in this early in the morning just as Vaggie had called it quits observing and picks the girl up, pulling her down onto a nearby couch, turned away from the insanity. 

But in that moment Charlie partially turns as do you, awaiting for a need to subdue the royal. Angel Dust pats you on the shoulder, easing you to come down again as Husk shoves a new mug into your hands. You did not realise you had dropped your cup earlier. 

“Maybe it's time-” Vaggie beings before being cut off by a crazed Charlie running back up to the boards and moving some strings around, “NO.” “To ask your dad. I know you don’t want to but it’s the only chance we have,” Vaggie finishes her sentence with as Charlie drops to the floor, clutching her head between her knees. 

Your hands sweat, as you look around to anywhere but Vaggie and Charlie. The dream deity had predicted your future, and you could only feel a wave of nausea wash over you as Charlie opened her phone before she quickly slammed it to the ground, “Wait just a sec! That is it! If we call my dad, he can get me a meeting in Heaven!” 

You choke, now leaning against a wall for support. Images of last night, of your office, of the King. Your head pounds as the small voices surround your head, Charlie needs to do this- even when you cannot protect her… 

Charlie picks her phone back up, scrolling through her contacts, her finger hovering over the name as Husks asks, “Daddy issues?” Charlie goes dead silent before looking over at you with apologetic eyes and speaking up, “No… we were just… never close thats all. After you and mom left, he never wanted to see me, he buried himself in work. He calls sometimes when he needs me to do something now.”

“Well I would like to meet the big dick in charge,” Angel Dust comments while looking over at you for a reaction. Your face is neutral, giving nothing away but your fidgeting tells elsewise. “The ultimate bad boy~” Nifty praises as you cringe very loudly as does Charlie. “I bet he’s scary~” Nifty continues while fluffing up her hair and stabbing a bug. You let out a whistle, “yup, scary, that's for sure.”  Charlie's head snaps over to your own, tilting sideways and eyes narrowing. You refuse to elaborate, memories of his threats to a mere guard simply making eye-contact with him. Every fiber in your body calls for escape but you pressure yourself to stay in support of Charlie who takes a seat in the chair that you stand beside. She clicks call and the phone rings thrice before a friendly tone sends your heart soaring to new heights as you pick at your jacket to better hide your reaction.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @jtcat305 @tati-the-fangirl @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @amarokofficial

[beevean]

So I'm putting some thoughts about how I see Charlastor in order, just in case I'll need them in the future lmao

Alastor craves power, control, and freedom. These are his main drive forces. The reason Lucifer's presence in the hotel rattles him so much is because he is both more powerful than him, a mere demon... and because he is a more important person in Charlie's life, and she asked for his help rather than Alastor's. While most of his taunting Lucifer about being a better dad than him comes from a place of wanting to hit the King of Hell where it hurts, he's also clearly consolidating his hold on Charlie's heart... who doesn't protest the fact that this consummate liar is calling her "his daughter".

(related to this, Charlie beams when Alastor calls her "good girl", which is completely normal I'm sure 🙂)

Alastor is implied to have been forced by whoever is holding him on a leash to protect the Hotel, going by his wording in Dad Bead Dad. By the end of S1 he is sick of it and wants a way out... but it's also implied he was growing a little fond of the hotel.

Charlie's feelings for Alastor seem to be ambivalent. By Hello Rosie, she's still fully aware that Alastor is a sadistic jerk who delights in people's suffering, and she is extremely reluctant to make a deal with him, putting every stipulation she can think of. However, she has also defended him against Lucifer by saying that he trusts what she's doing, and she's comfortable enough to talk to him about her personal problems with Vaggie even as it's clear that he couldn't care less lmao

Alastor giving his beloved mic to Charlie could be seen as a sign of genuine trust as well: by that point, he doesn't need to go the extra mile to manipulate her, since she owes him "a favor".

Alastor's touchy tendencies have been downplayed since the pilot, when he even slapped Vaggie's ass to annoy her. But he still enjoys touching Charlie a lot 👀 Both in a creepy, possessive way (bro really laid on the bed next to her...), and in a genuinely cute, friendly way. Charlie clearly doesn't mind the latter.

In short: related to the fact that Alastor enjoys being at the center of everyone's attention and is pissy when he gets ignored, Alastor wants to be important to Charlie for reasons yet to be disclosed, and he's willing to charm her in any way he can to make her trust him above others. He keeps his cards close to his chest, but he has been a real help to her, making his possessiveness and manipulation more disturbing.

Charlie is, as of now, in an in-between state where she still doesn't fully trust Alastor but she is growing fond of him and perhaps sees him as an odd friend of sorts - look at her wide grin when he comes back in the finale and she hugs him! She is not stupid, but she does see the good in everyone, and Alastor is no exception.

Alastor might also be eager to use the power of the Princess of Hell for his own purposes... namely, gaining back his full freedom. He might actually need her, perhaps even more than she, as of now, needs him.

In a general sense, both of them might be corrupting each other. Alastor is inherently a corrupting force in a Faustian way, manipulating others to gain more and more power, and so far he seems to be succeeding in getting Charlie to his side by playing the part of the helpful, resourceful hotelier. But Charlie is also an extremely positive force, and as I said before, Alastor seems to like her a little in his own cryptic way. I doubt that this would be enough to "redeem" Alastor... but it would be interesting to see him fight with himself against his newfound affection :)

(bonus: really curious to see where Husk would fit into all of this. I doubt he'd be happy to know that Charlie made a deal with his owner...)

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 14 - Kevin Bacon

Y'all talk about space dongs, before being rudely interrupted.

On AO3.

Your mouth tastes real weird when you wake up. And you’re more tired than you were when you went to sleep. Like that line from that Bilbo Baggins guy about being butter scraped too thin.

You lie on your stomach, numbed arm beneath your cheek (all of it crusted in drool), and the other arm twisted up all weird beneath you.

“Mgrghngh,” you say as you roll to your side.

You’re more tired than you was when Astarion pulled you outta the river he left you to drown in.

A voice lilts all pretty nearby. Speaking of. The man (elf vampire) sits a few feet away, needle in hand, working surprisingly quickly for a man with no sight.

Oh fuck. You lost your whole, entire corn-husking mind last night. And he fucking heard you do it.

“’M good,” you manage and reach for your bag for a dirt potion.

 And then wait for him to respond. Because he’s the type of asshole that relishes in the kind of barbed commentary that comes from watching somebody lose their whole corn-husking mind. Only he sits quiet. Sews a couple more stitches before tying off his work and snipping the thread with his teeth.

It’s your pants (trousers). He’s slit the sides and rigged them up with leather cording. It’s a real Mad Max kinda biker look, but it’s so much better then running around a refrigerator cave in a shirt and a fucking breechcloth (that shit was for summertime in fucking North Carolina, goddamnit).

“Try these on,” he says and holds it out. His back is mostly to you.

You stand all awkward. One knee cracks. And you shuffle over as pins and needles sweep up and down both your arms. Astarion sits all placid, tucking his needle into…is that a sewing kit? Man’s got a sewing kit? It even kinda looks like a goddamn cookie tin.

You slip one leg through, then the other. Gotta fiddle with them laces, and in the end, they really are side chaps.

“These’re great,” you say. You can even wiggle around without it pinching nowhere. It’s a little loose in the crotch, but that don’t even matter. Only thing it don’t got is pockets.

“I have something else,” he says. And reaches into his back and pulls out…

“Panties,” you say, in fucking Chondathan (at least he told you that’s what it was, this time).

He grins. “Well done. Now, I only had enough material for three, and you’ll need to belt them, but it should be more comfortable than stuffing that bundle into your trousers.”

That sounds like an innuendo. Shit, man made you panties. It’s the most weirdly personal gift you ever got in your whole life.

Great timing, too, if the general achiness curling low in your gut is any indication. Bitch is late. Not surprising, given all the fuck shit that’s happened. But still. She was gonna show up at some point.

What he made is kinda like ancient Roman bikini bottoms (which was a thing). Ties on each side and still a little baggy, but weird, old-fashioned granny panties is still panties that you didn’t have a minute ago.

You consider tapping his shoulder and thanking the man. Wonder briefly at how you’re more comfortable in your own head about like, physical affection with everyone else (imagining swooning against Karlach and frenching Shadowheart when she closes gashes you didn’t even notice). But when it comes to him, you just…can’t. Can’t even entertain the idea of joke kissing him, not even in your own head. It feels…weird. Like standing on the edge of a cliff.

“I did make a few hasty modifications,” he says as you start to unlace them trousers so you can slip on the panties. Which is when you catch his smirk. You seen that smirk before. That one’s goblin shit, right there.

“What did you do?” you say.

He waves a hand. “It’s merely cosmetic. And not my finest work.”

Did he leave one of them panties crotchless or something? Rig it to rip up the—

Nope. They’re all solid enough. And decorated with a simple piece of sloppy embroidery. Heat rushes up your face and you almost cringe away, until you realize that he wasn’t putting a dong on each one, but what you think is supposed to be a mushroom.

Because he’s a fucking goblin and is incapable of passing up an opportunity to poke at you.

“Cute,” you say.

“Aren’t they just?” He grins wide enough to show off his fangs. “I felt we should commemorate your first brush with hallucinogenics, darling. Consider it a souvenir.”

“And you thought the best thing for that was stitching them into my new drawers.”

“I had to contribute something.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

This all reeks of guilt. The whole “cutting you loose” thing. And goddamnit, it’s working. You still ain’t sure what you should be feeling about that. What the just thing is. Part of you thinks you should be pissed. Any maybe you are? But he’s also just…it’s difficult. It was a shit decision. Making it would have been a shit decision either way. And what saved you wasn’t him or even you; it was your bag getting caught up in some rocks. Ones you might not have come near if he hadn’t cut that rope. And then you woulda drowned for sure and been a bare-assed ringwraith in a fucking cave forever.

This might be him manipulating you. Making sure he does nice things so you don’t get mad—cause he ain’t fessed up on it. You noticed that.

Then again, he was acting all weird about this whole thing even before that cavern, when he realized he couldn’t see and you realized he’d have to rely on you. He really doesn’t like owing people.

What a fuck shit mess.

“Everything all right?” he says because you been quiet for a solid moment.

You wriggle back outta them trousers, pluck them up. Eyeball the tent. “I’m gonna go get changed, and then what’s say we get the hell outta here?”

***

You got three dirt potions left. You been down here, on y’all’s own for about three days already, you think. You should start rationing the fuckers. When you tell Astarion your plan, he starts speaking Chondathan at you. And he’s somehow even more pedantic about it than Gale makes you repeat yourself over and over until he’s satisfied with your inflection (fucking language rolls its goddamned r’s, which you was never good at).

After thirty minutes of you spitting all down your chin like a dumbass, he finally lets up.

He’s so quiet behind you, after that. Man’s got his pickup lines; can turn on the sleaze in less than a second. But casual conversation that ain’t complaining about something or imagining killing something or someone?

“So,” you say. Go for the tried and true, “You got any hobbies?”

“What, aside from murder and picking locks?”

Jesus, he ain’t never gonna let that go.

“Yeah,” you say.

A long pause. The cavern y’all are in now is lit up a little by them mushrooms. Y’all skirt around another bigass crystal somehow lit up from within. Probably some bullshit magic. It’d all be pretty if it wasn’t a giant cavern filled with fuck-knows-what hiding in the deep dark between the glowing fungi.

“No, not really,” Astarion says.

It takes you a second to connect it back to your last question.

“Huh,” you say. “That sewing was damn good for a man that can’t see. Better than most who can, I reckon. A fuck of a lot better’n what I can manage.”

“Considering your solution was to simply wrap a cloth around yourself, that’s not really high praise, darling.”

“Take the fucking compliment,” you say. “It’s good work. Even if them mushrooms look like dicks.”

His footsteps fucking trip. He sputters. “Excuse me? They look like what?”

“It ain’t really your fault. Technically, that’s what all mushroom is, anyway: space cocks.”

He makes a kinda muffled “ugh” sound.

And then a thought hits you. “Does your language have different words for genitals depending on the vulgarity? Is it even a vulgarity to y’all?”

“I…yes, actually.”

And the word he used translated to “cock.” Possibly the most vulgar, but also the least casual. Interesting. You do notice he don’t actually use hard swears (or whatever translates to hard swears). Combined with his fancy pants accent, you wonder what he was before that whole fuckface turning him thing.

“You know,” he says. “I didn’t expect this sort of conversation out of you. Though you do have a fine phallus of your own, so color me wrong.”

“Back to them space cocks,” you say, in an attempt to cut him off before the teasing can creep back in. It ain’t fucking weird having a goddamn sex toy. You’re a grown ass fucking adult.

“Space cocks. Do tell.” He literally purrs the last part of that. If y’all wasn’t walking, you’re sure he’d prop his chin up on one hand.

“Pretty sure I was babbling about them last night. But the parts we see, the parts that grow above ground? That’s just the reproductive parts of the organism it grows from. Which I always thought was funny since a lot of them look pretty phallus-like. When they ain’t being a cosmic horror and all.”

“And this amuses you, being a connoisseur of cocks, does it?”

Ooh, he’s digging.

“I seen enough,” you say. You ain’t folding that fucking easy.

“Forgive me darling, is there a point to this topic of conversation, or did you just really want to talk about cocks?”

“I want to talk about how weird mycelium are. You don’t need to—”

The rope tugs on your waist and you turn. He’s stopped. Grin dropped. Eyes open and unfocused, staring hard out into the darkness.

“Do you hear that?” he says.

You do not. There’s the hollow echo of the huge fucking chamber, your own breathing, and y’all’s footsteps crunching about in what has turned into dirt (must be the mushroom’s doing).

But his head tilts, and you know he’s tracking something. Intently. And the shadows around y’all become real dark.

“What is it?” you say as quiet as you can.

He don’t answer. Just frowns. Head turns this way and that, eyes darting around. Until his frown deepens. And the man looks down.

“There’s something beneath us,” he says.

A hidden chamber full of albino orc people your brain throws at you because it’s a motherfucker.

Then Astarion’s face goes blank in a distinctive way that opens ever, single floodgate of adrenaline you got into your circulatory system.

“It’s coming up beneath us,” he says, right as y’all both reach for each other’s hands and you holler, “Run!”

You catch the sound, now. Thunder shimmies up your shins through the thin soles of your stolen boots. With a couple steps, the ground shakes so bad you stumble. Astarion’s iron grip is the only thing that wrenches you back up.

“There’s a rock ahead,” you pant. Your throat already burns. “Next to a cliff. Mushroom…big’un. Growing on the side.”

The two of you stumble sprint over. Hit the edge of the rock right as the ground six inches from your heel erupts in a spray of dirt that knocks you to your knees.

Astarion manages to keep his feet. Once again hauls you scrambling up to the top of the stone as something roars behind you.

You don’t look. All effort is focused on the edge of the rock and the leap you’ll need.

“Three foot gap!” you gasp. “Plenty wide—”

“I can’t—” Astarion starts.

And you shove aside all your cringing and grab the man’s shoulders and point him in the direction he needs to go. But it’d be terrifying to leap without seeing. You remember the cavern where he found you, all the times he touched something. He needs guidance.

“Gimme the stick,” you say as a roar rumbles the air so hard your ribs rattle. You finally glance back.

Something big with a huge fucking mouth.

You barely fumble the stick, barely manage not to drop it. Skirt around Astarion. Judge the distance and leap. And it’s only once you’re airborne that you wonder if that bigass shroom can take your weight or if it’ll snap clean off the cliff like a rotten tree branch.

You land hard enough to go down to one knee. The shroom is squishy, yet firm enough that it only shivers under your weight like a hard mattress.

“Eleanor?” Astarion says, voice sharp.

You whack the cliff with your stick, at foot level, just beside you. His face snaps to that direction.

“Three feet! Here!”

He gives a single nod, waits for you to tap again—the thing below roar and its bulk moves up the rock oh fuck.

Astarion jumps. Lands right next to that sound, and you reach out to steady him and pull him further onto the shroom. Right as the big fucking monster comes bounding up the rock after him. You all but drag the both of you back, fall on your ass (Astarion stumbles over you) and scoot further away.

Up until your hand hits the edge of your little platform.

“Fuck oh fuck fuck.”

Somehow, it did not occur to you that the fucking ground monster might, like, climb.

Now you’re gonna die. Torn apart by a fucking armored hippopotamus-mouthed fucking tank of a thing that snarls and snaps…from its perch on the rock. Three feet of air between y’all.

Astarion claws into your shoulder. “What’s it doing?”

Big fucking monster makes a low sound. Paws at the edge of the rock. Then its head twists left, then right. It’s got little, beady motherfucking shark eyes on either side of what’s actually a massive, fuck off beak. It leans forward, one stubby foot reaching…

But then it pulls back. Makes that sound again. Leans real far forward to…nibble at the edge of y’all’s shroom and then make what you can only describe as a disgusted sound.

“Well?” Astarion says.

“I…” you say. Watch the thing growl and snuffle around. “I think it’s afraid of the mushroom.”

“What? What is it?”

“The fuck am I supposed to know?”

And the blind man rolls his fucking eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re a yokel from another plane. You’re sure it’s not about to pounce on us?”

It fucking stares at you, is what it does. Stands motionless, maybe a total of eight feet away, just fucking staring with its dead eyes.

Every muscle in your body goes limp and you almost swoon.

“I think we should be quiet,” you whisper.

To his credit, Astarion frowns, but crouches down to whisper back, “What does it look like?”

Stumpy legs, thick body, all of it plated in some armor looking hide. Big bitch has a face halfway between a shark and an African hornbill. All of it about the size of a rhino.

Which you tell him, leaving out the animal names. And to which he swears.

“You’re of no help, dear,” he says.

“You fucking asked me—” And cut off as the birdshark snorts. Like a cat watching a squirrel and dreaming of murdering the ever-loving shit outta it.

“We should stop talking,” you say.

“And what would you,” he starts. Seems to reconsider. Then lowers himself to sitting pressed against you. You manage to contain your fidget away. Mostly. And you both settle in for the worst staring contest of your life.

***

Birdshark gets bored after what has to be an hour. Huffs and moans, and then ponderously half slides back down to the ground. It gives you another glare. Then turns nose down, makes a chuffing sound, and all them armor plates fucking buzz and the big bitch slides into the dirt like it’s a fucking cow pond.

“What was that?” Astarion whispers.

The ground don’t move again. The buzzing stops. The whole cave falls silent.

“It went back underground,” you say.

Then Astarion starts to stand. “Well then, we’d beset get out of here before the beastie changes its mind.”

But you’re still staring at the dirt. You grab the bottom of his leather armor to stay him. “Did you hear it leave?”

The man pauses a long moment. Then sinks back down, silent as a whisper. “No.”

It hunts from underground, don’t it. It’s got eyes, and it for sure saw you, but sound seemed to really set it off. And the fucker is down there, buried, and it’s mcfucking waiting for you, ain’t it.

“It’s fucking Tremors rules,” you say. “Fuck me.”

Astarion shifts. You turn and catch the most baffled expression on him.

“It’s a story,” you say. “Monsters show up in a desert town. Big worm things. Hunt from underground. We can’t get on soft ground without it knowing and coming up right between our legs, I bet.”

You didn’t even know the man could get any paler. Granted, it’s like the difference between eggshell and dairy cream at some fucking hardware store paint aisle, and you can only tell the difference by holding up them swatches next to each other under the glare of a noon day sun. But it’s still impressive for a guy whose complexion can, at best, be charitably described as corpseriffic.

“Perhaps your people’s stories aren’t as fictional as you think,” he says.

Which one: they got them the concept of fiction vs. non-fiction and you got to learn how to fucking read here, hot damn, and two:

“I’m really starting to wonder,” you say.

So tremors rules. Fucking waiting at the base of that rock. You scan around the expanse of gloom and flat ground. Them other mushrooms is too high to climb, and you ain’t putting it past birdshark down there to uproot the damned thing and bite y’all’s legs off when it topples over.

But then, off in the distance, the color of darkness changes. You can barely see it (can only see it by looking around it), but there’s a slash of black about a hundred feet to the right. Beyond that, the soft glow of more magic cave mushrooms, all about level with the floor here.

“I think that might be a crevasse to the right,” you say. Scan it again to try to tell if it’s maybe just a ditch. No, no, you think the light reflects off stone on the other side, like a sheer cliff. Goddamn, it’s too dark. Fucking caves.

“What of it?” Astarion says.

Birdshark didn’t wanna leave that rock. It was only a short hop to get to y’all’s tender ass meat, but it seemed nervous. It would make sense for a subterranean predator to be skittish of open air.

“I don’t think it likes being away from the ground,” you say.

You can feel the man lift an eyebrow.

“Or we can stay here until I starve to death. You can feed on me if that happens, and good luck after that.”

For just a second, he looks at you like you done slapped him with a trout. Then he’s back to his usual sass and an eyeroll.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll have to run for it. I can’t see, and I’m rather sure it’s faster than the both of us. What’s your plan for that, darling?”

You think back to that movie, and remember some of the goodies y’all still got left over from that goblin camp that you are one hundred percent sure Astarion commandeered.

“You still got them bags of spark powder?” you say.

[theodorequartz]

[ His Companion] Hazbin Hotel Various x Male Reader

Part 6: The Red Demon

______________________

Once upon a time... Where there was nothing but darkness

______________________

You smile as he turns around to face you with a bright smile on his face. One that can light up the world.

Warmth engulfed your body as he ran up to you and gifted you an embrace.

__________

You blinked back to reality as you hear the sound of knocking at the hotel's front door. You have been sitting in the lobby in the sofa beside Angel dust who threw himself in you as you absentmindedly combed his hair between your fingers.

As Vaggie ran to follow her girlfriend to the entrance hallway of the establishment, you held Angel's waist softly and sat him up steadily. Angel pouted at this.

" Aw toots, come on! It's probably nothin'."

You sigh as you fixed Angel's ruffled clothes and brushing off  any dust from his body.

" I still have to see it, Hearts. I'm part of the staff now after all. "

Angel dust grumbled and sighed as he let you go. His heart warming just a tad bit from the nickname you gave him. You started calling him that after seeing the heart marks on his body when you were working for Val as his make-up artist.

You volunteered to be one temporarily as the current make-up artist at the time was killed off. You did so as to calm Val down from his angry tantrum.

You were assigned to be Angel's personal make-up artist since then.

You could've just stop being his make-up artist after a new one came but with his connections with a mafia family and Husk. You were bound to get use of him. Every little pawn is of use to get your lord's desire.

Speaking of the charming devil..

" - My, I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1989! Hahahaha!! Ohh... So many orphans.."

Your lips twitched to a small smile before disappearing. You walked towards where the commotion is.

" Charlie? Vaggie? What's with the commotion? "

You asked your new companions as you neared them, visibly tensing up as Alastor caught your sight. Your hand immediately grabbed the dagger in your hip and rushed to pull Charlie behind you, Vaggie following you and taking her stance beside you.

You glared at the demon in red, guard visibly up.

" My my! No need to be on guard pretty fellow!"

The staticy voice was filled with amusement as he pushed away the spear Vaggie pointed to his throat. His gaze looking straight at yours.

You gave a look at Vaggie and being a bright little angle she is, she new to keep Charlie in her protection as you slowly took your hand away from the hilt of your dagger.

Though not so bright enough to see your facade

You took a step forward and held your hand out, initiating the radio demon to do the same.

" My name is M/n, no need to introduce yourself to me. I know who you are.."

His grin grew more amused than ever.

" Won't it be rude, though?"

He, Alastor, said as he held your hand to shake.

" It won't, as I've already insisted."

You said, taking your hand off his hold as you gave him a look of distrust. He merely grind in return.

He then proceeded to speak of why he is here as Vaggie took a hand sanitizer out of nowhere and sprayed a lot to your hands and scrubbed it with tissue which was immediately thrown away to the fireplace.

This and that happened... And now there's a drunken gruffy angry old cat behind the newly made bar stand.

Which Angel was totally simpling for, of course.

And a little ball of bouncing scurrying cleaning crazy roach catching lady.

Everyone just seem to accept her existence.

Whilst Alastor started to sing,  the cat looked at you meaningfully and you stared back at him reassuringly, promising him to tell everything later.

Not really everything...

A loud crash startled all of you as the music stopped and the wall bursted open, you gasped as Nifty was hit with a large peice of the wall.

You immediately came to help her as the rest went outside to look. You lifted the rubble off her and she just smiled and thanked you before following the rest outside, seemingly fine as if she was not hit in the fist place.

What an invincible little lady...

You stood up and followed to go outside too.

You saw all of them huddled in the opening of the wall that was broken.

...

You walked right outside to the front door, where the hole in the wall was next to.

You followed their trail of sight to see a snake in a battle airship of some sorts

Both of you made eye contact and the snake immediately froze. You held a finger against your lips whilst looking at him in the eye.

He gave an unnoticeable nod in response, letting out a shaky breath.

He's face was slightly flushed.

He was immediately attacked by large black tentacles from the ground, destroy his aircraft.

You looked at your lord.

Alastor has a sadistic look on his face as he finished off destroying every part of the machine, making sure to grind extra hard with each hit.

My... how jealous...

" Well I'm starved! Who wants some jambalaya?"

______________

_________________

An entity was born to rule the empty land

________________

You laughed as he pulled and twirled you in joy.

" Did you like my present?"

You asked as you took hold of his hand gently.

" Yes! "

He replied brightly.

Oh... How far would you go to protect that light.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Huskerdust!!

C/W implied suicide via extermination.

Angel took another drag on his cigarette as he leaned his top set of elbows on the wall, the red light that passed for daylight in Pentagram City turning the smoke pink in a way which was momentarily far too reminiscent of Val. He didn't usually come up to the roof but he just needed to be somewhere that wasn't inside right now and Charlie's 'no smoking indoors' rule which everyone usually ignored provided the perfect excuse when the streets were currently more dangerous than usual. 

The atmosphere had been tense ever since the girls had returned from Heaven with the news that the hotel was now target number one for the next extermination but now with just hours left, it had become unbearable. 

The fighting hadn't helped either. Husk had had the nerve to call Angel fake but even a blind man could see the only thing those two could actually agree on right now was the need to keep the hotel safe. Angel never thought he'd say it, but it was unnerving not seeing Charlie and Vaggie presenting a genuine united front on every single little thing.

 

"And here I was thinking this would be the perfect place to get away from you clowns for a few minutes."

Angel rolled his eyes and threw up a one fingered salute he wasn't really feeling, "Fuck you, Whiskers." 

"Maybe if we live to see the end of the week."

Husk leaned on the wall an arms length from the spider, giving him that assessing stare that Angel both loved and hated. It was as gratifying as it was annoying to have someone who could see right through any and all defences he put up, "How you doing, Kid?" 

"Oh, I'm just peachy, can't ya tell? Practically dancin' on the inside." Angel snarked, meeting Husk's gaze in a silent dare to call him out on it. Husk merely stared back (why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to get into a staring contest with a cat?), "Just thinkin' is all."

"What Charlie said about-" Husk jabbed a claw upwards. That had been one of the main sources of division between the princess and her (ex?) girlfriend for days after they got back until they broke the news to the sinner in question. Charlie had been adamant that Angel had a right to know, whilst Vaggie was of the opinion that at this point it was just adding insult to injury with the extermination so close. In the end, Angel had made the decision for them after cornering Charlie and demanding to know why she looked like she was about to start crying whenever she looked at him. Husk had privately been in agreement with Vaggie though - maybe it would have been kinder to let Angel live out what might be his last few days in blissful ignorance of the fact that Heaven would basically rather see him perma-dead than admit they'd fucked up. 

"About me apparently bein' this close to gettin' into Heaven? Nah." Angel threw the remaining half of his cigarette over the edge with an elegant flick of his wrist, suddenly he wasn't in the mood any more, "Can't miss what ya never had, right? Was just thinkin' about how six months ago I wouldn't have given a crap about any of this. The six month extermination, makin' Heaven's personal shit list. None of it." He pulled a fresh cigarette out of the pack in his breast pocket and lit it without taking a drag as he began to pace, giving Husk the impression it was more so he had something to do with his hands, "Even back when I was alive I used to -what'd you call it - self destruct all the god damn time and when I got down here, if it weren't for Val lockin' every soul he owned in the studio durin' the extermination I would've taken my chances outside every time."

He gestured in the air with one of his free hands, "Before this goddamned fucking hotel and every fucker in it, I didn't give a crap what happened to me but now, for the first time in my god damn fucking life, afterlife. Whatever-" he paused to take a long drag, the cigarette trembling slightly in shaky fingers before Angel let out a laugh like the one when he'd torn Husk a new one in the bar that night - disbelieving bordering on hysterical - before looking away like he was about to admit something shameful, "I really. Really don't wanna die tomorrow, Husk." 

"And you ain't gonna." Husk snapped out as his wings spread, causing Angel to startle slightly at the harshness of his tone, the cat demon took a breath to try and calm the swell of emotions Angel's confession caused to rise up, "I mean. I've seen you shoot, you've got some serious skill. Vaggie knows any possible tricks the exorcists might try, Charlie is the literal princess of Hell with all the powers that come with it. Alastor sees this place as his territory now, trust me, if anybody knows how much that creepy fucker doesn't like other people coming after his things..." he gave a small shudder he hoped the other didn't see. 

"...and you?" 

Husk would be lying if he said the question didn't catch him off guard but Angel had been honest with him. Only fair he returned the favour, "I ain't letting any of those winged fuckers touch you."

And there was that smirk Husker hated (loved) so much, "'Cos you wanna be the only winged fucker who gets ta-" 

"Don't even finish that sentence, asshole."

Husk moved to stand next to him, draping a wing over the other to shield him from the wind that had picked up during their talk, "I got your back, kid." 

Angel shifted his weight to lean against the shorter demon, giving a small mental cheer when the other didn't move away and let him kiss concrete, "Back at ya, Husky."

[chiffaust]

Can I request a Valkyrie x reader(not separate) who is a sensitive person and cries a lot. Thank you!!

— 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 valkyrie

— SYPNOSIS you just wanted to help Shu, but you accidentally made a mistake.

CONTENT fluff, comfort, sensitive reader, GN!reader, can be read romantically or platonically (i hope).

( n ) — note this was disastrous to make since i dont really read that much valkyrie stories so sorry if thegre too ooc!! IM ALSO SORRY ANONNIE THIS IS PROBABLY NOT WHAT YOU WANTED😭

"Dear me, you sure are easy to fluster..." Shu would say, sighing at the sight of you crying at the mere accident. It was an avoidable accident, yet he wasn't shocked that it happened.

You who were so eager on wanting to help him create an outfit. You who didn't listen to his instructions at all and snipped right through it and messed it up altogether.

"S-Shu I did it again..." Your voice was nothing but a husk of whisper as you rest your head on the table dreadfully.

"Hmph, I told you to listen to me, now look where your stubbornness has gotten you. Luckily, it was already a mess to begin with, and—hey, are you seriously crying...?!" He cut himself off to ask you one simple question.

He shouldn't be surprised at this point with how many times you'd cry whenever you make the slightest mistake in your work. He does know how it feels like to not achieve the perfection you want, but your reaction is... Kind of extreme, he supposes?

And you'd also cry over the simplest things too; small, unfortunate events. Like this time you sulked over Shu forgetting to buy you a small keychain souvenir you wanted. He in fact has bought you lots of things from France far more valuable than a simple keychain.

And to think that he's treating you as nice as he could too. He wishes Kagehira was here right now, he's better at comforting others than he is. Speaking of Kagehira, where exactly is he?

Now he has to stress over two people at once...

He hesitated slightly to comfort you, he didn't know what to say or what to do in order to comfort those who are distressed such as yourself. He truly does wishes that Kagehira is here at the moment...

At that very moment, he heard the doorknob being twisted, and soon chimed in a familiar voice—Kagehira!

"Oshi-san~ 'm back! 'N' you won't believe what happened—nngah, why's producer cryin'?!" His cheery tune soon turned into a concerned one once he saw you there, crying with fabrics and sewing tools everywhere on the table.

"Nngah, oshi-san, don't tell me ya bullied them t' the point where they started cryin'!" Mika burst out, suddenly assumed for the worst.

Considering that he's Shu Itsuki and you're crying while being in a room with him in a setting like this all alone, it's only an understatement to assume that.

"Non! Don't be stupid, Kagehira! I didn't say anything nor have I done anything wrong! In fact, it was their fault that my costume's state was worsened." Those words rolled down his tongue before he could realize what he'd just said.

"I know that I'm stupid and worthless and I can't do anything right, but you could've at least sugarcoated it a little..." You muttered all under one breath, a melancholic aura surrounding you as your tears rolls down your face once again.

"No, I—"

"Oshi-san, I'll take care of 'em from 'ere." Mika said, patting Shu's shoulder with a smile on his face. Mika sat down next to you and pats your head.

"There, there. It'll be alright. Just 'cuz ya made one mistake, that doesn't mean we'll leave and abandon ya fer it."

"I know, but I just feel terrible for messing it up... Although Shu said it was a mess to begin with, I thought it was beautiful. I just wanted to help him and I messed it up..."

"I mess up a lot of times too, 'n' Oshi-san still hasn't left me!" Mika said happily. "Yer our producer, y'know? We only had gotten this far all thanks fer yer help! Ya made mistakes along the way—no, we made mistakes along the way, but we're still okay together, aren't we?"

You sniffled, looking up at him with glistering eyes that had stopped crying. Your gaze soon falls over to Shu who did nothing. He was merely there, watching from afar with a monotone expression.

You swear he was smiling slightly, but it was probably just your mind playing tricks with you or something...

You look back to Mika who was smiling gently at you.

"I... Suppose you're right." You muttered.

"Right? 'N' remember that we love ya, producer♪ take it easy on yerself too." He said, soon hugging you.

"Oshi-san, c'mon! Join into the hug too!"

"H-huh?! Non, no way! Why on earth would I hug you two and—"

Before he could continue with his protest, you tugged the hem of his sleeve before pulling him into the group hug.

"You can't run." You said, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling yourself closer to him, purring like a cat as you lean onto him.

Mika soon joins in, laughing happily.

Shu wasn't enjoying it in the slightest, but he soon went quiet for a short pause of a period before a smile formed over his frown and joined in the laughter too. Although it's more of a giggle than anything, it's still cute. 

You smiled, looking at these guys with adoration in your eyes.

Oh, how you wish this moment wouldn't end.

[comfreyhollywings]

there's a tarot reading i did the other day when i talked about you. there's rose incense i'm currently burning. its fragrance hits the back of my throat, and it's welcoming to me. this is a ritual i have always done whenever i want to dedicate my time, space, and energy for you.

the keywords of that reading is: the weight of the world is on your shoulders and i want you to know something.

you are my anchor and have always been it. you know me just as much as i know you; every single side of me. manic, calm, spiraling, or absolutely overjoyed.

you can tell me if i'm overstepping, and feel free to tell me to stop. but here's what i've observed: the world is me. i'm your world.

you haven't said it through words in particular, but you have told me through your actions. i speak prayers and you always answer. every single time without fail. and when i told you i wanted to move towards the next stage in my work and love life, you immediately moved me to a position where i could receive it.

my boyfriend is the month of august, and i am a behavioral technician. as someone still studying the law as an undergraduate, i'm still learning the reigns and that is okay. i pressure myself to be in a position to pay more bills. i'm learning self-care as i order from door dash. i cook more often. sometimes i go manic and immerse myself in scenarios still. i'm seriously considering a second job as a community assistant for a government job.

i joke about my joints popping. the economy of the world. the concept of the self. bam, i get mistaken as someone who's older than i actually am. whether i'm in my thirties or mid twenties.

i'm twenty.

 odd. if it was someone else, i would've thought the world was as their fingertips. the thing is that i've never felt more inadequate before in my life. this inadequacy stains my cheeks and desecrates the stupid part of my brain always craving 'worth'. i have to be worth something.

what i'm really afraid of is not living up to everybody's expectations. but they're not my expectations, are they?

knowing that's me is.. shocking. what /is/ the concept of me??

you had once described me as someone 'aquarian-themed', detached and solitary, but still so loving. dreamy and almost out of this world. remote. you had accurately described what i was like as a person, and i couldn't help but crack a smile. like we were telling an inside joke. it's true i had aquarius placements in my natal chart, but i hadn't thought too much about it until you brought it up.

but the thing is, when you brought it up—you made me realize a key point about myself: i am deathly and deeply afraid. i am scared of human connection. this is why i isolate. and you are reeling me out of this foggy forest, chanting:

'no love however brief is wasted.

no love however brief is wasted.

no love however brief is wasted.'

figuratively, i am kicking and screaming while you drag me out. a part of me wishes it stayed stuck in that forest. except, i know that's just the familiarity talking. isolation is addicting but it makes you a husk of a person; a mere observer as a husk of a person. you don't interact; but that's not the same with others. you'd watch others interact with anything.

so okay, here's what i think. i think you're.. a lot.

not in a way where someone so much as looks at a person and thinks, 'oh, they're a lot!' as a way to otherwise tell them that there's no space in their lives; that they should water themselves down.

love is naturally, a lot. love is the most terrifying, brutal force in existence asides from genuine war. love is what makes you buckle down onto your goddamned country after being bombed, and holding on for dear life while you attempt to protect your citizens. love will naturally correlate with war; and it has always been that way. manic love will either blindside you to the worse, or uplift you in bliss.

there's a literal goddess of love looking out for me; being able to pin me down on the dot while i stare like a deer in headlights.

essentially what i'm trying to say is: being vulnerable has made me realize i don't have to work for love.

isn't that terrifying?

[minnowtank]

ok so i was already disappointed with totk's story and now i feel like people are making up things that didnt happen. like how does any of this represent a character progression. when compared to her botw self, totk zelda does not experience character growth. she merely learns that she has to make a sacrifice, then acts on it, with no internal conflict in between. and the sacrifice is basically just a less-bad version of the sacrifice she previously made. nothing she does in totk is connected to her arc in botw; in fact, the game makes a point of not mentioning her conflict in botw at all because it would only serve to highlight the sheer lack of growth she experiences in this game

large spoilers below

totk's story is essentially a watered down and neutered version of botw's story.

-> botw's story leads up to zelda sacrificing her humanity to seal ganon away by entering what is essentially a time prison where she and ganon are trapped, alive and perpetually conscious, in zelda's destroyed childhood home. throughout the story she struggles to learm how to use her magic due to a mental block, has an external conflict with her father that ends up fueling her internal conflict about her magic, is forced to become more mature in the face of tragedy, learns to like and value link, her appointed knight, has to own up to not being able to access her sealing power in time, and ends up being the last person standing. though her father was definitely to blame for worsening the mental block that kept her from learning her magic in time, the death of her father, champions, and the kingdom are her fault, too, because she had her own established flaws (i.e being stubborn contributed to her mental block). so she puts her life on the line to save the last living person she's grown to care about -- link. it's a tragic story, and a cautionary tale, and zelda grows from it. she is a fully realized character with a unique personality.

-> totk's story leads up to zelda sacrificing her humanity to transform into a dragon in order to act as a mobile USB charging port for the master sword; this causes her to go into a coma/dream state for most of it (debatably she gets out of the coma state when it is time to reunite with link except that makes very little sense when you think about how dragonification is explained. however she does say that she was "dreaming"). she learns a new magical ability with relative ease, and does not have any internal conflicts caused by the other characters in the story because they are all nice to her and believe her the whole time. nothing she does affects the story beyond her final act/what happens to rauru and ganondorf because its already "set in stone" and its made extremely clear that none of them could have done anything to stop ganondorf since he was too powerful. there is only one thing she does that COULD be seen as unintentionally assisting in ganondorf's rise to power but that was mostly sonia (& rauru's) fault, and also it's such an uncharacteristically stupid and nonsensical thing that it's clear they literally only act in this way to have the plot move along.*

essentially, zelda repeats a similar sacrificial act at the end of the story but goes through 0 personal journey/arc of her own beyond deciding that shes going to do it and learning a fun new power along the way. but oh no it gets worse. over and over the characters drill into your head that dragonification is permanent and cannot be undone in any way, and that zelda will be giving up her body and mind forever. they say this literally over and over again and then guess what happens. SHES RETURNED TO HUMAN FORM AT THE END. WITH NO SIDE EFFECTS EITHER BTW SHES JUST COMPLETELY RESTORED. because zelda turning into dragonification was a kind of "death" for her since she becomes a husk, this ends up being one of the most drawn-out fakeout deaths i have ever seen in a piece of media. i dont understand why nintendo did this like just COMMIT??! i still wouldnt have liked the overall story, but i wouldve given them credit if they just had zelda stay a dragon forever. at least with botw the entire point of zelda's sealing-ganon-away sacrifice was that she held out hope that link would be healed and come back to save her. so its never meant to be a permanent thing like dragonification. with the dragonification sacrifice the story literally just lies to you. LMAOOOO

anyway i was not satisfied with the story in this game. zelda is once again ripped away from link but the game doesnt have a good reason for it. the game really expects you to be like "yeah we decided to separate zelda from link for the entire game so that she could be used as a charging port for the master sword only to have her come back at the end with no side effects to her sacrifice. this was definitely a better idea than having the player rebuild the destroyed master sword alongside zelda and getting to learn more about zelda and develop her relationship with link. yeah we also decided to not flesh out link at all in this game, like we dont give him any personal motivation or any kind of feeling or the faintest whiff of a backstory to make him feel like a real person that exists and not just a player avatar. oh and he barely emotes in the story cutscenes for no reason again. hes not allowed to smile, and even if theres a point where he could be smiling the cutscene wont let you see it. arent you happy? oh also there are next to no references to the previous game's events and almost all of the sheikah technology has disappeared without a trace and no one brings that up. also zelda never brings up that she sacrificed herself for 100 years when talking about how she is committed to dragonification even though literally anyone in her shoes would bring that up or at least allude to it. also we didnt give any of the zonai characters or sonia any actual flaw and just had it so that ganondorf was just too powerful to beat them without it even really being their fault, but we'll pretend like rauru had "hubris" anyway even though he fucking was, quote, "aware of ganondorf's evil nature." YAYY"

*i am referring to the scene in which sonia and zelda confront the puppet zelda. the scene establishes that they've known that the puppet zelda is in fact a puppet from the start, but for some fucking reason they decide to follow along with it and have the puppet lead them outside the castle interior to an unguarded area (the first line from sonia confirms this). then, and only then, do they reveal that they are in on it, and by that time it is already too late and ganondorf is able to sneak up on sonia, kill her, and take her secret stone. maybe this is supposed to be a representation of the nonexistent "hubris" rauru has but it makes no sense. you know it's a puppet, so why dont you just immediately say that and try to fight the puppet in the guarded castle with rauru? what? why would you LISTEN TO WHAT ITS TELLING YOU TO DO?? these characters are supposed to be smart right? anyway just having it so that nobody knows it's a puppet would have salvaged this entire scene .

[starzyd13]

Chapter 2: My Realization

Waking up in a fit of aching, sweltering panic.

Ave sat up, in shock of the clear blue skies, emerald green grass and large twisty hills. It was...picturesque.

Unreal.

It wasn't real, was it? Gazing down at her gloved hands, much bigger than usual, Ave frantically padded her hands over her face and body. Whimpering in fear and confusion as she drug her fingers through what was no longer hair, but now....quills. Muttering to herself in disbelief, Ave crawled about in the grass, grasping onto every surface. Feeling the reality of it all.

"Is this the fucking game?!"

Turning around back and forth, like that of a scared tomcat, she picked up the large hammer next to her, cautiously holding it upwards. Picking herself up, she gingerly moved forward, scanning the area for anything potentially dangerous. In the distance she saw a figure, not much taller than herself, standing with a beaming sort of confidence. With a sigh of relief, Ave approached the figure. Turning them around, to be met with a familiar face...with velvety, deep purple fur, white hair with twists of a minty blue spiraling through it.

The person flung their large, fluffy tail about as they turned around, as evidenced by the the two thin, white stripes running down their tail, they were a skunk! Of sorts...more specifically, the childhood character of Ave's lost friend, Desmond. The character on the face of the very game the group attempted to play. Seeing their glimmering violet eyes struck a wave of nostalgia into Ave's very core. Memories of her and Desmond bickering over what the titular skunk should be wearing, what they'd be named. .......Starzy, Starzy Moon, or mostly referred to as, Starzy The Skunk. Sporting a leather biker coat and matching boots, they looked just as Ave could remember, from the hundreds, if not thousands of drawings Desmond had made of them over the years. This character wasn't just Desmond's beloved character made for a beloved franchise. This character was the very glue to the group's childhood.

Smiling at Ave, Starzy held their hand out, invitingly. Ave was hesitant. What really was this place? What was going on? What was happening back in the abandoned building? A second of silence passed as the two held eye contact. Starzy's eyes looked pleasant, sparkling in the sun, their tail swaying back and forth calmy. It was a calming sight, comforting. A sign.

Maybe Desmond was okay.

Taking their hand, Ave walked side by side with Starzy, the two smiling at each other. No need to say a word, each glance said enough. Admittedly, Ave felt flushed with guilt and humiliation. The things she'd said about Desmond over time, did she mean it? Either way, what's said is said. What's done is done, sad to say. Looking up into Starzy's eyes filled her heart with memories of a life long gone. Her and Desmond participating in sleepovers, parties, food fights and trashing their environment around them over the most inconsequential reasons.

It's all gone.

Desmond seemed to be that of a husk compared to their "former" self in Ave's eyes. Unstable and empty. She hated Desmond in recent years, would've given just about anything to avoid their mere presence. She regretted feeling so much hatred for them now. Maybe it was too late.

Her thoughts interrupted by the ground beneath her boots feeling slippery, almost losing her footing, Ave gripped onto Starzy fearfully. Starzy supported Ave's weight with no hesitation, looking down at her with a concerned glance. They held her reassuringly, helping her gather herself together. Ave's eyes scanned the ground for the sudden change in texture. Her eyes were caught by a thin crimson ribbon of liquid running across the ground, spiraling from the very tip of Starzy's tail. Gasping at the trickling blood, Ave babbled in their direction, pointing around like a fool. Starzy quickly turned around, their eyes filled with a pained shock as they picked their tail up off the ground, wiping the trail of blood off the tip.

"Damn, why's it doing this again?!"

Starzy mumbled under their breath, fiddling with damp, bloody fur at the end of their tail. Ave reaching out to assist them, Starzy took Ave up on her help. Their tail lay in Ave's open hands, they itched at the tip once again, smiling in satisfaction at their discovery.

"Okay, I think I got it!"

Jamming their fingers about in delight, the sight that would meet Ave's unsuspecting eyes next would nauseate her.

Starzy took a handful of fur on their tail, ripping it upwards, pulling layer after layer of flesh with it. Ave stood silently. How to even react? They tugged at the loose wings of skins flapping about aimlessly on their tail. Shredding it, piece by piece. The dirty work wasn't silent, Starzy huffed with effort as the putrid sounds of tearing flesh rose. Until all that was left attached to them, was a wriggling, flayed muscle, flapping back and forth. Spewing dark, vile blood about the ground. Casually glancing at Ave, as if nothing out of the ordinary had previously happened, Starzy tilted their head.

"Why.......?"

Ave snapped away from her view of Starzy's mangled tail, wriggling like an injured animal unbeknownst to them.

"Why? W-why, what? Wait, what Starzy??!"

Backing away, covering her mouth as she felt her insides churn, Ave stared up to Starzy with questioning eyes, a confused stare. They approached Ave with a melancholic glare, their eyes filling with pools of tears.

"You knew how much it hurt, how could you say that ?.....You're my friend."

Ave took a step back once more, some deep and dark sense of shame piling up inside her chest.

"Did you really think that?!"

Starzy crashing to their knees, passionately sobbing, bringing Ave to the ground with them. She starting sniffling, her emotions pooling in the corners of her heart as she saw the tears glide down Starzy's cheeks.

"Think what, Starzy?! What the fuck do you mean? Please...!"

After a chilling moment of silence. Uninterrupted eye contact. Starzy began rubbing their eye, muttering in an emotional mess. Ave watched closely. As Starzy rubbed their eyes, weeping, thin ropes of blood trickled down their cheeks. Ave gasped in horror as she pulled Starzy's hands away from their eyes. Upon opening their eyes, Starzy's eyes shrunk into the bloodied pits resting in their tear stained face. Their eyes sitting small and swiveled sideways, coated in conjealed blood and inner juices. Ave began backing away in utter shock at the sight of it. Starzy's fur began to fade, their teeth looking dark and nearly microscopic. The insides of their face looked decayed, putrid. Starzy stood, silently. Towering over Ave as she squirmed about on the ground, panting fearfully. The insides of their face began to melt into pure darkness, hollowness. The empty blackened smile stretching across their face, their eye sockets seeping black liquids down their cheeks. Lowering themself back down to Ave, sitting eye level with her. Starzy croaked and growled, a guttural purr rising from their rotting maw.

"Do you believe I'm better off dead....?"

No words came from Ave's mouth. Her quivering lips were shoved open by Starzy's scab-spotted hand. Their bloody hand diving deep into her mouth with no regard, she lay silent as her face boiled with pain. An agonizing, pulling sensation burned behind her eyes, a ripping tingle. She couldn't scream. Her jaws were already pulled out farther than what should be possible. Her eyes tearing from the sockets, being ripped down through her head into her gaping, bloody maw. She could no longer move her eyes as she lay in a puddle of her own blood. Her eyes dangled from the torn, fleshy ropes that once held them safely in place. Her tongue thrashing about just underneath her eyeballs. Stuck in place, staring at the sky, Ave lay there. Her face torn asunder.

Unrecognizable.