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obsessive and possessive? that's my type

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ALASTOR 🦌

Hazbin Hotel Fanart by LANVERIL

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Purged and remade on January 13th.

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Husk's annoyance and discomfort isn't lost to Alastor. He never misses the negative emotions he elicits in people, and why would he when he purposefully causes and fuels them? The whole point is that, once he has achieved that, he can sit back and be entertained by the consequent reactions.

The bartender isn't wrong in his guesses. The Radio Demons indeed enjoys angering and belittling him, but that doesn't only apply to Husk. Each and every people he engages in ends up being a pawn, a puppet he can move around to his will, either following a long-term plan or just because he feels like to.

And if there's a deeper need behind it, the desperate desire of being in control whenever he can, so that he can delude himself that the leash around his neck isn't as tight, that's something for him and him alone to know.

"I really hope that's not sarcasm, Husker...for the sake of your well-being," he shoots back in a playful tone, but the look in his eyes holds much darker threats. "Now, now, don't be like that. Do this for me and I'll get you a nice present. And maybe I'll even involve you in a little something I'm working on..."

He leans closer once again, lifting his hand as if to pat the cat demon on the head. At the last moment, however, he drops it down, snatching the bottle from the other's grip so he can refill his glass instead.

"A job where you can show off your much deadlier skills, if you get what I mean."

Alastor truly was a sinister scheming guy - and a pompous fuck. Why Charlie and Vaggie had let their guard down around the guy, Husk would never know. He could only guess that their own confidence in themselves and naivety had them believing his act - the same mistakes that the gambler himself had made in the past.

And look where it'd all gotten him.

He gives a feline hiss of annoyance and moves his face away from Alastor's pinching grip, barely straining himself from straight up knocking the deer's hand away from himself. Though his arm came up in a way that made it obvious he'd wanted to. Husk didn't know if Alastor did that sort of shit because he knew it pissed the cat off, or if the radio demon actually got off in some way in treating the other man like his "pet". Or maybe it was both?!

But Husk had no patience for it, no matter what Alastor's mood was. If that amount of resistance was enough to tip the other's mood like he was some sort of tantrum throwing prince of Hell, then so be it. The deer may not think so, but the sphinx sinner in fact did have a good amount of dignity left even as a drunkard washed up overlord.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll make sure things go your way, boss. Fish boy doesn't stand a chance."

Husk huffs, rubbing at his sensitive face to get the ghost of Alastor's touch off.

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threatening to kill you as a love confession

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“He’s an incredibly crafty piece of shit”

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@mcltiples sent:

The familiar sound of guitars and drums caught Rick's attention. He couldn't exactly hear the vocals, but it was undeniable that he knew the music by heart. It just couldn't click from the distance yet.

Which lead him to drop everything he had been doing, following the music, leading him upstairs, down the hallway, into one of the rooms. He creaked open the door just a bit. Only to figure out the situation in a matter of seconds.

Someone found the albums that he's made.

Leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, he watched his alternate listen to the music. Somehow it was a soft moment for him, intimate almost. It made him feel a certain way that he couldn't exactly explain.

"Y-You know, that song, i-it was titled something else before the record label complained about it, so I-I went against their name suggestion, chose that title instead as a big fuck you for trying to limit my message in my music," He decided to reminisce out loud. "They couldn't get mad because i-it became a number one hit the first week it was released."

{ To Merc Rick from Vamp Rick !! }

As a rule, Rick wasn't a busybody. He kept to himself, never stuck his nose in other people's affairs unless he had something to gain out of it. And, even when he did, he never took or told more than it was strictly necessary. Privacy was something that he valued, deeply, since his own had been violated far too many times in his younger years.

He might have sinned of hypocrisy a few times, but it was because he had had his hand forced. He might not value his life at all, but that didn't mean that his survival instinct was completely dead. So, between his life and his principles, he usually picked the former. Fucking sue him.

Finding the records had been an accident. He had been rummaging around the unused rooms of the cabin, looking for any sort of raw material he could have used to build his current project, and that had been when he had found them. They were stashed away in a dusty box, half hidden behind a pile of old objects that might as well as been trash.

It had made him curious and, since he was only human, he had dug the box out and gone truth its contents. It had taken him very little to guess what he was handling. Merchandise, music sheets, concert posters, albums. It was the tale of someone's past in the music industry and, from the face printed on the covers, said someone was his housemate.

In truth, Rick had a hard time picturing the other as some kind of rockstar. The vampire he had gotten to know was evasive and solitary, definitely not a people person. He couldn't even start imagining him standing on a stage, with thousands of eyes locked on him, and charming a crowd with beating rhythms and sensuality.

But then again, he himself had been a different person once upon a time. The ticking of the clock inevitably changed you, whether or not you realised it. That considered, it wasn't so crazy to imagine that his alternate had once picked a lifestyle he had later chosen to abandon.

The wisest choice would have been putting everything back where he had found it and forgetting about it. However, making the right decision had never been his forte, so instead he had grabbed a couple of disks and carried them to another room, where the player was.

Satisfied curiosity aside, he didn't even think about regretting his actions because the songs were good. Not all of them fitted his tastes, but that didn't mean that he couldn't appreciate a well composed melody. Without even realising it, he lowered himself on the floor, eyes closed so that he could better focus on the music.

He couldn't have said for how long he had been sitting there, lost in the sounds of the instruments and of that low voice. A minute, an hour, a day. Or anything in between. In any case, he had gotten so engrossed in his listening that being abruptly brought back to the present felt like being hit with a bucket of ice.

His eyes snapped open and he turned around so quickly to make himself dizzy for a moment. Shit. He had been busted, hadn't he? Good thing that his housemate didn't look upset, even if he couldn't help feeling awkward and embarrassed.

"I...Yeah, that's...I-I mean, it was your song, wasn't it? S-So, you had every right to pick a title an-and to hell with what your producer wanted," he stuttered out, after having quietly cleared his throat. "S-Serves them right that your idea went viral. I-I bet that made them feel like idiots."

He opened his mouth to add to that, but he quickly snapped it closed a moment later. Should he just be this casual towards the whole ordeal? Like he hadn't just been caught red-handed while snooping into the other's past? Nothing in the vampire's behaviour suggested that he was mad or even just annoyed by his intrusion. Yet, Rick still felt like he owed his housemate some kind of apology.

"T-That said...Sorry. Y-You probably didn't want me...o-or anyone...to dig up this stuff. I-I should have left it where I found it." His fingers stabbed the flesh of his thighs, as he struggled to keep his uneasiness hidden. "F-For what's worth...You were fuckin' good. A-As a singer and as a composer. I...You made great music."

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I'm thinking about making a new promo 🤔 Not right, because I'd rather focus on writing replies first, but in the foreseeable future.

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ᴇᴀꜱʏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛᴇʀ

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#DYNAMOPROTOCOL / BLOG / INFO

FUKA FUKUKAWA CLARISSA RENNARD: The unrepentant daughter of THE bloody revolution set to unite all of space under one man's hand. Scourge of the United Federation of Earth and Voidspace, betrayed by her own side, dead woman walking. Perpetually suffering the blight brought upon herself by the many wretched mistakes she refuses yet to face. A study in moral stagnation, slipping backwards, the inevitability of growth or death, the fun and nifty quirks of being full of hot, hot electricity, and Gundam-styled space opera bullshittery.

INDIE FANDOMLESS SCI-FI OC. BY SENTRY (HE/HIM, 30+). PRIVATE, LOW/SPORADIC ACTIVITY. STRICTLY 21+. FICTIONAL AIs ARE LOVE, GenAI IS FOR CHUMPS AND SUCKERS.

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mabel! mabel! mabel!

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@archaievist sent: The redhead opens her door, she’s wearing nothing but a corset, panties, and stockings. With a grin, Eliza grabs him by the tie, and pulls him into the house.

Upon receiving the note, John had assumed that this would have been just like any other of their outings. Usually, he is the one to prompt their meetings, or to show up unexpected at the librarian's house, but he doesn't mind that she's been taking the initiative more lately. It shows that she's interested in him, really interested, which is something he both relishes in and dreads.

It's all good and easy when he's just having fun and toeing the line without ever crossing it. However, when the possibility that things might get serious...That's where the troubles begin.

Lately, those thoughts have been bouncing in the back of his mind every time he sees Eliza, but thankfully he has always done a great job at shushing them...at least for now. It won't last forever, but he'll cross that bridge when the time comes.

In this particular occasion, forgetting all about it was extremely easy, since the magician's brain went blank the moment the woman opened the door. The note he has received said nothing about her plans for the day, but this is definitely not what he has been expecting.

Not that he has any complaints, mind you. On the contrary, it's a welcomed, even if a little shocking, surprise.

Constantine stumbles as he's dragged inside the house, barely managing to catch his balance before he can make an even bigger fool of himself.

Blue eyes run over Eliza's figure, taking in the revealing outfit as much as the skin that it leaves bare. Now that the initial shock is slowly melting away, he finds himself mesmerized by the view. He has thought since their first meeting that the librarian is a very attractive woman, but right now she's much more than that. She's hot and sensual, sexy but elegant at the same time.

The fact that the clothes she's wearing look like high quality garments, and not just something cheap you can find in a random sexy shop, only add to her charm.

If she was hoping that he would be seduced at the mere sight of her, she has definitely succeeded.

"Did I miss th' part where yeh told me about a dress code for today?" He finally asks, ignoring the fact that he has been quiet for a moment too long. "I'm feelin' a wee bit o'erdressed now."

He raises his hands and reaches out to caress the strip of skin that's left bare between the bottom of the corset and the waistband of her panties. The touch is as light as a whisper, but it lingers enough to be teasing.

"Woh's th' occasion? 'Cause we must be celebratin' somet'in', aye? Can't think o' any other reason why I gots to admire such a vision."

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The hotel’s fairy godmother 🦌🪄

🎀🌈

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While Rick couldn't see the ice pack falling or it hitting the ground, he decided that the sight of his alternate's blurry figure retreating had to mean something. When the lights in the room were dimmed, to the point that not only they weren't being shone in his eyes any longer, but that they were suffused enough to be bearable told him that the other had listened to him. To an extent at least.

While he made sure not to show it on the outside, underneath his many masks and act, he couldn't help feeling tense and on the edge. No matter how benign and compliant his "saviour" was acting, there was no way he would have trusted him. If there was one thing he was absolutely certain of was that the only person he could trust was himself.

And, at times, not even himself.

So, when V-79 spoke up, breaking the thick silence that had filled the room and making his implicit demands, Rick saw it as a confirmation that he had been right all along. Of course the man wasn't attempting to nurture him out of the goodness of his own heart. That wasn't something Ricks did, none of them. Not even the ones who firmly believed to be decent people.

A scowl formed on his bloodied face, displeasure written all over his features. He wanted nothing more than to argue with the statements that had been thrown at him, no matter if they were somewhat true.

Yes, the regeneration process would have been longer and more painful without external help. And yes, he would have been more vulnerable and unable to fully fend off anyone who might have bumped into him while he was still recovering. However, that didn't mean that he would have died. What a ridiculous idea.

...No matter if that was what had almost happened at the end of his battle with C-137 and those two Mortys.

"Whatever lets you sleep better at night, pal. I could have handled myself just fine without you showing up and sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," he talked back with a huff, attempting to sound mocking, even if the breathlessness in his voice made him very much not believable. "You have no idea of who I am. Or of what I'm capable of. So, if I were you, I'll keep that tongue in check and won't underestimate me."

Would he have been able to put up a fight? As much as he would have liked to think that he could, it probably wouldn't have been safe to bet on his success. Even if, in truth, he still had a couple of tricks up his sleeve. Dangerous ones, made to be used only as a last resort.

Gritting his teeth, he managed to move his arm again, waving his hand in a way that he hoped looked dismissive, before dropping it down on the operating table.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. If you're expecting me to thank you or go on a rant about your generosity...Well, try it with someone else. You can't treat me like a dead thing a cat brings back home and expecting me to be fooled."

Maybe he couldn't be sure that his alternate would have tried to get whatever he wanted out of him by force, but it was clear that he expected something in exchange.

"Just drop the act and tell me what you want, kitten. I'm not in the mood for mind games right now."

The tired arm managed to slap the ice pack out of Rick's hand. He looked down at it on the ground then back at the new specimen. This was the first time hearing the man talk so much. It wasn't a surprising reaction. Most Ricks were prideful and didn't need help. So, he would ignore the plea of stopping.

However, he would give that other suggestion a listen. He turned on his heel, making his way over to the power switches. Dimming the main lights and then turning off any other light that could seep in. Dark enough for it to be comfortable, but enough so they could see each other.

He slid down the wall until he was sat down, knees bent upwards. Staring up at the operating table. Just watching the man. Pure fascination in those pale blue eyes of his.

"Now, i-it's your turn to listen," He cut through the silence abruptly. "Y-You're in no position to deny any help, i-if you were to have stayed on that ship, y-you surely would have died or suffered a really long regrowth process," He knew nothing of regenerative abilities, only in theory, but he could tell it wouldn't be something pleasant to experience.

With a tilt of his head, he let his hands slide down the front of his shins. "A-And if another Rick would have passed by and saw you, y-you would have had everything stolen a-and you would have been captured," He blinked slowly a few times. "So, I-I consider you lucky that I came across you instead,"

For a moment, he fell silent again. His next steps had to be treaded carefully. One wrong move and he could lose his specimen's trust. And the unspoken promise of getting something out of this. He didn't want to openly ask for it, that would be too demanding.

Shifting a little uncomfortably in his spot, he turned his head to look elsewhere. "My part of the deal i-is that I keep you here, let you recover, a-and then you can leave. Y-You can even take supplies from my ship, anything you'd need to complete your travels...."

Glancing from his peripheral vision, he waited for what the other had to say. His eye fixated expectantly, trying not to make it too obvious on what he was implying.

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Salt Is For Curing, Sonya Vatomsky

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