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mamamangaka · 4 months ago

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SNDNBDUSHAB

Summoning demons while drunk is a bad idea

You were almost out of wine. Of course, you blamed this on your boss because it was his damn fault for overworking you, driving you to drink your sorrows away as you tried to juggle your workload and other stressors of adult life. And you were barely getting a pay raise for all the extra work he was heaping on you, and your poor wrists would never recover.

Sure, being a mangaka was fun and exciting, but it wasn’t as fun now that you were being forced to pump out pages with seemingly no end. Maybe you should’ve listened to your mother and gone into nursing instead?

It didn’t matter now, though, not with a glass of the best 8 dollary wine you could find at your local bodega with your name on it calling to you like an alluring siren and the prospect of scrolling through your phone while a horror movie played in the background.

About halfway through and countless scoffs and eye-rolls at the antics of the characters in the horror movie – seriously, who the hell decides to summon a demon for fun? – you doubted any of that nonsense would actually happen if you tried it in real life.

Maybe it was the alcohol fogging your mind, the stupidity of the characters, or wanting to do literally anything but answer your ex’s texts, but you clumsily typed in how to summon a demon – after turning on incognito mode, of course, just in case you started getting advertised weird stuff again. Finding a few somewhat easy ones, you took a screenshot of two promising rituals before closing the tabs and gathering the ingredients you needed. You also grabbed your nearest plushie that would be the “host” for the demon, figuring that your cute little Alastor plushie wouldn’t do much damage if it was possessed by a demon.

Right.

Fatigue was washing over you, but you wanted to finish this before you woke up and chickened out or came to your senses, though your exhaustion, coupled with being drunk, probably weren’t the best influences to be under whilst performing a summoning ritual.

Grabbing your chalk, some herbs and a small knife to draw your blood with, you advanced on your plushie sitting on a coffee table and got to work, occasionally checking back with your screenshots to make sure what you were doing was right.

As your blood dripped onto the plushie, you waited for a moment for something to happen, then another.

“Abra Kadabra?” you eventually said, staring at the silent and unmoving plushie in a clumsy chalk circle on your coffee table.

You didn’t know what you expected, but not this.

Grumbling, you clumsily picked up your glass of wine and downed it before collapsing onto your sofa and passing out.

You slept well that night, completely unaware of the crimson orbs fixed on you.

Waking up with a hangover was never fun, and you internally wept with joy that you took today off because 1. It was already noon, and your boss would have your ass if you came in this late without a good reason, 2. You were hungover and couldn’t even focus on your phone’s screen without hissing at the brightness, 3. Your hazy head would most definitely not be able to concentrate on working on whatever was shoved onto your plate today.

Grumbling, you cursed yourself for not going to bed to sleep, drinking water or even eating bread to hopefully ease the symptoms of hangovers. You would totally beat up your drunk self if you ever met them in an alley, not only for eating all your chocolate but also for making a mess on your coffee table and messing with your Alastor plushie in an attempt to do… something?

Your bloodshot eyes swept over the scene on the table – the haphazard chalk circle, the knife, the plushie lying innocently in the middle, the salt and other herbs sprinkled around it and, on your carpet, which you just hoovered damn it!

Was drunk you trying to prepare a roast but with a plushie instead of a turkey? That was the best you could figure out, given the context clues of the herbs and salt, but that didn’t explain the chalk. What was chalk doing in this situation? Was this a desperate cry for you to buy some damn groceries? A thought-provoking art piece? A sacrifice? Well, that would explain the knife, but not much else.

At this point, who knew? Searching your browser history proved less than helpful since you most likely used a private browser when getting ideas to do… whatever this was.

Groaning, you curled against one of the pillows and opened your phone’s photo album, hoping that cute pictures of dogs or cats would help cheer you up, but two new ones caught your attention. You didn’t remember taking those and clicking them showed you two similar rituals for… summoning a demon?

Frowning, you closed your eyes and tried remembering what happened last night…

A horror movie and wine were involved… but what about the rest? Did drunk you try to summon a demon?

Looking back over at your coffee table and the screenshots, the scene partly matched up with what one of them instructed but veered off to follow the other ritual halfway through. It seemed that being drunk, as well as your general absentmindedness, led to you mixing two rituals up, and you groaned, covering your eyes with an arm.

Why couldn’t you just text your ex like other drunk people did when bored?

You weren’t the religious type, but you were somewhat glad that nothing seemed to have happened from this summoning, and your Alastor plushie didn’t even seem damaged when you inspected it, merely grinning up at you like it always did.

Something felt different this time, though; the vibes you got from it felt… strange, and you put it down, shuddering. Maybe you were still drunk?

Burrowing into the couch pillows, you closed your eyes and tried to hopefully get some rest to cure the hangover.

A few days had passed since you had gotten drunk and tried to summon a demon, and it was finally the weekend, which meant party time!

Just kidding!

You were ready to catch up on some rest and finally deal with some chores you’d been putting off for ages. Such was the life as an adult.

Trudging to your living room, you froze, smelling the familiar scent of coffee.

You didn’t make the coffee, having just woken up, you didn’t have any roommates, so no one was there, and you were the only one who had your apartment key, so who the fuck was in your house and making coffee?

Grabbing the baseball bat you kept by your door, you slowly advanced to your kitchen, ready to throw hands with everyone in there.

Kicking open the door, you readied your bat, “Get the fuck out -”

You froze.

Sitting at your kitchen counter and sipping at coffee from your favourite puppy-shaped mug was either a really good cosplayer, or your dumbass drunk self actually summoned the Alastor the Radio Demon from the Hazbin Hotel series.

This could not be happening.

“Alastor” smiled widely at you, and you made a strange noise at the back of your throat as he stood a little too quickly.

Acting on instinct, you threw your baseball bat at him and bolted for your front door, pulling at the doorknob that stubbornly refused to budge.

This could not be happening!

This only happened to clueless characters in horror movies, which only spurred your panic as you pounded on the cheap door your landlord had installed in every apartment in the building. Surely your busybody neighbour opposite had heard you and was about to check on you?

A pair of strong arms pulled you away from the door that should have been dented by now at least, and a hand came to cover your mouth as you screamed for help.

“Hush now,” an unmistakable transatlantic accented voice cooed at you as you fought to scramble away from this fucking creep, “young ladies shouldn’t behave in such a manner.”

Elbowing him did nothing, but biting down on his arm hard made him hiss and spin you around to look at him.

Jesus Christ, he was tall.

“Let me go, you fucking freak!” you hissed, trying to kick him in the shin, but your bare foot didn’t seem to do any damage, only making him laugh, but he refused to release you.

“Not until you calm down, my dear.”

“I’d be a hell of a lot calmer if there wasn’t some fucking creep in my home!” you all but snarled, swatting at him and trying to bite at his hands when he tried to touch your face with talon-tipped hands that seemed a little too sharp to be cosplay.

“Ah, but you summoned me, my dear, so of course I’d be here!”

You stilled in his arms.

There was no way that ritual actually worked, no way at all, which must have shown on your face because the man chuckled, brushing your hair out of your face.

“How else did you think I entered your home without a key? Lockpicking? Ha!”

You batted his hands away and huffed, this was pure bullshit, but you figured you’d humour him.

“Okay then, if you’re truly Alastor, prove it.”

His staff appeared in his hands, and he spun it, slamming it onto your floor.

Inky shadows travelled out from where his staff struck, green electricity arcing alongside the shadows as they engulfed your kitchen, travelling up the wall and ceiling, blocking sunlight from the window and plunging the room into darkness.

There was no way this was a sneaky lockpicking cosplayer who was really committed to the act.

You fell to the floor, head buried in your knees as you tried to comprehend what was going on; the green electricity tingled your skin, and Alastor was saying something, but you couldn’t hear anything other than the static in your head as the shadows receded and green electricity died down.

You yelped as he scooped you up with ease, carried you to the couch, and sat you down before sitting next to you, but you scrambled away, grabbing the coffee table and wielding it at him as if it would do anything to save you.

What would a coffee table do to help you? You’d seen every episode of Hazbin Hotel and knew what Alastor was capable of – if other demons couldn’t defeat Alastor, what hope did you have? At least you’d go down fighting!

Alastor chuckled again, appearing before you and gently taking the coffee table from you.

“Come now, I won’t hurt you,” he cooed at you, gently unpicking your fingers from the legs of the coffee table and putting it down, “if I wanted to, I would have done so already.”

He had a point there, and you reluctantly allowed yourself to be guided to the couch and accepted a mug of coffee that Alastor conjured.

“You must be hungry, I’ll get you something to eat-”

“Forget that; just tell me what you want,” your assertiveness shocked you, and you stared the demon down, who raised an eyebrow before shrugging elegantly.

“You are the one who summoned me here, to this universe,” he cast an eye around your apartment, and you tried not to be offended as he took in your décor.

“So, you’re from that universe… I- I didn’t mean to summon you here.”

“Oh?” he seemed amused, “and what did you think was going to happen when you summoned a demon?”

Your fingers tightened on the handle of the mug, “I was drunk, and it seemed like a good idea at the time, apparently.”

He hummed, conjuring his own mug of coffee and taking a sip.

You cautiously took a sip of your coffee, trying not to shudder as the Radio Demon cooed as you did so, as a question formed in your mind, “Hold on, other people have tried to summon demons before, but nothing showed up for them, what made you come here?”

“My guess is that your little ritual involved blood, yes?”

“Well, I mixed up two, but yes.”

He chuckled, and you huffed, glancing away in embarrassment.

“Well, that explains my predicament.”

You blinked, “Explain what?”

Alastor’s smile became rather tight-lipped, and in a puff of smoke, he disappeared, leaving your Alastor plushie sitting where he once was, but the plushie turned to face you, clasping its little hands together.

You were going to need more coffee for this.

“This predicament.” His voice came from the plushie, “It seems that if I spend too much time or exert too much power in my true form, then I revert to this… form.”

He sounded like he wanted to use a different word, and you didn’t blame him for being pissed at being stuck as a plushie, given how his words were laced with venom.

Wait, did he think you did this?

“I-”

“Oh, I know you had nothing to do with this, darling, this is well above your power-”

“Hey!”

“However, I will need to build up my power in order to return home.”

He looked at you pointedly at that, and you glanced away briefly. It wasn’t like you wanted to summon him of all people to your home or keep him stuck as a plushie for half the time, though you did feel guilty for him being like this.

“You can stay here-”

“Grand!” he popped to his normal appearance, making you jump and almost spill your coffee because you sure as hell weren’t expecting that! “Though your apartment will need some… tweaking to fit my tastes-”

“Oh, uh-uh!” you cut across. You had spent too long and too much money getting your apartment to how you liked it and weren’t about to let anyone change it, “you are not changing up anything in my house, deer-boy!”

“Deer… boy?” the demon repeated slowly, and you gestured wordlessly to his antlers before continuing.

“And absolutely no deals or people eating or-” you paused, struggling to express what you wanted to say as the damn demon only looked amused, “You know what? Just don’t go outside! We need to keep you on the down-low, and you stick out like a sore thumb.”

“So, it’s a deal, then?” he offered his hand for you to shake, grin a little too wide to bode well for anyone as green magic wisped up in the air around him.

“No!” you scrambled back on the couch away from him, “No deals, tricks, or strings attached! I don’t trust you!”

He chuckled, retracting his hand and making the green magic disappear as he relaxed on your couch.

“Very well,” he conceded, “I will abide by your rules as a good house guest.”

You exhaled in relief, but part of you still didn’t trust him – you had every reason not to, knowing his character.

“Next time, I would very much enjoy you being a guest in my home.”

You chuckled into your mug as you took another sip, “There’s no way in hell I’m going to your universe, deer-boy.”

He chuckled, “You might change your mind, my dear.”

Yeah, right.

Living with Alastor was like living with a weird roommate who was a little too committed to macabre interests.

That said, it was quite nice to have someone at home waiting for you instead of the isolation you’d gotten used to due to your workload and schedule, not to mention Alastor had started to make dinner for you, so you weren’t driven to eat cereal for dinner again. You still remembered Alastor’s demonic shriek when he caught you eating salsa and chips for dinner instead of actual food; your poor ears still hadn’t recovered.

At first, you were suspicious of him and what he served, knowing his preference for eating flesh, but the demon swore up and down that he would do no such thing to you and pouted at you to eat, which you reluctantly did. Now, though, you looked forward to his admittedly delicious cooking.

You were very grateful and wanted to cook him something in return, and settled for Jambalaya, knowing his affinity for it, which led to you researching an authentic recipe from the 1920s and practising it at a friend’s house to make it perfect.

Coming home, you carefully opened the door and locked it mostly one-handedly, a heavy crockpot nestled in the crook of your other elbow.

“There you are, darling!” came Alastor’s voice as the redhead appeared before you, welcoming you in and quickly taking the pot out of your hands, which you were very grateful for as you hung your coat up before retrieving the pot from the curious demon’s hands.

“It’s not for you just yet!” you teased with a cheeky smile, placing it on your counter and starting to set the table as Alastor fussed about you, aiding in any way he could and pouting when you pushed him to sit at the dining table which he had bullied you into accepting a few days ago.

With a perky smile, you lifted the lid off the still-warm pot, letting the delicious scent of the fresh Jambalaya fill the room and making Alastor still.

“Wow, I’ve never seen you so stunned,” you joked, spooning the dish into a bowl and pushing it to him.

Alastor didn’t say anything, not even blinking, as he stared at the rice dish, and you swallowed nervously. Did he not like it?

“Is this…?”

“I found a recipe from the 20s,” you explained, doling out a portion for yourself while Alastor turned his almost burning gaze to you. “I’ve been practising at a friend’s house, so this would be a surprise for you, so surprise!”

He was still silent. There wasn’t even a crackle of static as he stared you down, which was only broken when you cleared your throat pointedly.

He silently picked up the spoon, and you held your breath as he slowly raised it to his lips and tasted the rice dish you had spent hours on.

“Well?”

Alastor exhaled slowly, his smile slightly wobbly as he gazed at you with an unreadable look in his burning gaze.

“Just perfect.”

You had grown on Alastor much more than he’d like to admit. He was never one to get close to others, especially in such a short time, not even when he was a human. Somehow, you managed to burst through his defences and carefully built walls with your kind nature and snarky remarks, but the Jambalaya had sealed the deal.

Not only had you gone out of your way to research a recipe from his hometown, but you’d practised it to perfection without him even knowing, and while it wasn’t like his mother’s recipe, your twist on the classic left his mouth watering for more as the flavours exploded like fireworks across his tastebuds.

He had to have you.

A sigh caught his attention, and he turned to see you burrow into your covers in your sleep. Alastor softened, coming to sit by you and stroking your hair. He had noticed that you didn’t sleep well enough, what with your boss piling his work on you while he went on another vacation – of course, Alastor knew about your work life, always watching from the shadows and burning with rage at how you were treated.

The Radio Demon gently picked up your hand and lifted it to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“I’ll look after you from now on, my doe,” his quiet whisper broke the silence in your peaceful room as you slept.

Rising to his full height, he melted into the shadows below. He appeared elsewhere, arriving at your boss’s house, his silently cackling shadow stretching out from his heels and stalking through the large house and searching for the man as Alastor followed it, whistling and spinning his staff as he stalked towards the man, his shadow locking all entrances. At the same time, Alastor himself loomed over your sleeping boss, claws at the ready.

“So, you’re the one who’s keeping my darling away from me,” he mused aloud, not quite understanding how such a man came to rise through the ranks at work to manage and oversee others.

The man’s eyes snapped open, a shout leaving his lips, but the Radio Demon didn’t care, barely pausing as his sharp claws shredded the useless human to ribbons, his favourite shade of crimson now splattering the once clean room and ruining his suit, but Alastor couldn’t bring himself to care. Whistling a jolly tune as he left, his shadow lit the house ablaze as he returned to you in a fresh suit and returned to his plushie form in the chair by your bed.

Alastor tended to watch over you as you slept, always wanting to make sure you were resting as best you could while he tried to regain his power. It soothed a possessive part of him to see you so defenceless in his presence and knowing that only he could protect you.

Your phone buzzed, and Alastor growled, materialising your phone into his clawed hands and glaring at the piece of modern technology. He abhorred it but wouldn’t do anything to your phone in case it upset you, and only investigated it to make sure you wouldn’t wake and unnecessarily disturb your few hours of sleep.

A burst of his shadowy magic unlocked the feeble security of your phone, and the redhead’s brows furrowed as he read through a string of increasingly desperate and alarming texts from your so-called ex-partner.

Just the thought of you in the arms of another person made his antlers enlarge, and a feeling of possessiveness and rage brew within him. Still, the texts made it worse – your ex had clearly been taking advantage of your kind nature throughout your entire relationship and well after it, and Alastor wouldn’t let this go on anymore.

It was time to go home.

Standing up and returning to his proper form, the Radio Demon slammed his staff, sending waves of shadows spiralling from the point of impact, curling and coalescing into the shape of a portal. His way home.

He sent a few of his shadows to collect your most treasured possessions while he scooped you up, relishing the feeling of your body curled in his arms before Alastor stepped through the pulsing doorway and left your apartment silent and empty.

You woke up to a massive headache and your vision spinning as you tried to sit up, but someone pushed you back down into luxurious sheets and a damp rag was pressed to your aching head, making you sigh in relief. The coolness felt wonderful against your burning skin, and someone cooed above you, stroking your cheek with a sharp claw, but you couldn’t see well, only making out a red blur by your bedside.

“Alastor?” you whispered, tongue feeling rough and scratchy like sandpaper while you latched onto his arm for comfort, “Where are we?”

You definitely weren’t home since you didn’t have sheets this soft, and the colour scheme of your room didn’t look like this.

Alastor hummed, stroking a thumb over your knuckles and pressing a kiss to your palm, making you weakly try to tug it out of his grasp – you had never liked it when he was so affectionate, despite him claiming that was how gentlemen of his era behaved.

“We’re home, my darling,” he pressed another kiss to your wrist and seemingly allowed you to tug it out of his hands as you squinted at him with blurry eyes.

“What happened…” a yawn overtook your sentence, and everything faded to black as exhaustion claimed you.

You woke up a few more times, once to find Alastor bandaging your head for some reason. Did you take a fall and hurt your head?

Blinking your tiredness away, you yawned and took in your surroundings.

You were in a gorgeous room decorated in shades of red, and a very realistic-looking forest area was off in the corner. Had Alastor redecorated again?

You rolled your eyes at his antics, stumbled out of bed, and walked to the door, intent on returning to your room and continuing to rest in the comfort of your own room, only to meet with a patterned wall and more rooms lining a corridor, each numbered and going upwards.

There was no fucking way.

Tossing your hair up into a ponytail, you advanced down the corridor toward the lower numbers, your bare feet padding on the plush red carpet as you moved. It stood to reason that you’d eventually find a staircase the more you travelled down to get to the other levels, and you were proved right when opening a pair of double doors.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you eventually made it to the ground floor without having met another person on your way down, run into any staff members or heard any noise indicating the presence of other guests here.

What kind of hotel was this?

An unhelpful part of your mind pointed out the obvious answer about where you were, but you quickly pushed that aside. There was no way you could be there.

Opening a final set of double doors, you entered a lobby and froze, seeing other people there.

Milling about the lobby and by the bar were the various characters of the hotel: Charlie, Vaggie and Angel.

There was no fucking way this wasn’t a fever dream.

You couldn’t help it. You panicked.

“What the FUCK is going on,” you demanded, scrambling to the nearest thing you could probably use to defend yourself – a lamp on a coffee table – and held it aloft. “Where am I?”

“Hi! Oh my gosh, you must be new here!” Charlie was immediately in front of you, aggressively shaking your hand and not paying any attention to the lamp you were still holding. “I’m Charlie, and you’re at my hotel!”

You were hoping she wouldn’t say that and tightened your grip on your lamp. “Sure. Whatever. But I’m human and not supposed to be down here!”

Charlie’s smile became somewhat strained, and she exchanged glances with Vaggie while Angel only cackled.

“Have you seen a mirror lately, toots? You sure ain’t human anymore!”

“What are you talking about? Of course, I’m-”

Your words abruptly stopped as you caught sight of your reflection in a nearby window.

Generally, you looked the same, but then your eyes trailed higher to your face…

Rather than the human nose that you were used to, a bunny’s snout was in its place and high atop your head were a pair of soft brown ears that blended well with the colour of your hair.

You couldn’t help but faint.

Waking up in that same room again was getting old, and you’d had enough.

This clearly wasn’t a dream since going to sleep in a regular dream and waking up there usually woke you up in the real world, too, not to mention that pain usually helped shock you awake, but pinching your wrist didn’t do anything for your predicament.

And you still had bunny ears and a bunny snout to boot!

Sitting up, you grumbled and hugged a pillow, debating what to do next.

It was clear that Alastor had brought you here for some reason, but why? Were you still alive or dead or-

The door swung open, halting your train of thought, and Alastor entered, humming a jolly tune and brightening upon seeing you awake.

“There you are, my darling!” he covered the distance between you both in a few short strides, coming to sit beside you and cup your cheek gently. “I’m so relieved to see you awake.”

“Alastor. What the fuck am I doing in your universe.” It wasn’t a question but rather a demand, but Alastor didn’t seem to mind your rudeness, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, I wanted my own souvenir from my trip to your world, something that no one else has-”

That sent rage boiling within you, and the only reason you hadn’t punched him in his stupid deer face was that he vastly outpowered you and was most likely your only way home.

Play this cool.

“I’m not something you can steal, and I don’t belong to you,” you eventually settled on saying, trying to keep your tone even as you ground your teeth.

“Oh, but you do belong to me!” Alastor pulled you into his lap, not minding your yelp or struggles as he pressed a few kisses to the base of your still-tender ears.

“No, stop that! It hurts!” you swatted him away, and he cooed at you, “And I’m not yours!”

“My poor bunny must’ve hurt her head,” his tone was soft and sugary sweet as he pressed a lighter kiss to your head before booping your snout, making you sneeze involuntarily. A snap of his fingers somehow eased the pain and pressure in your head, and you reluctantly relaxed into his chest as his magic coursed through your body, relieving the pain of your new transformation.

“This is your fault,” you huffed, not knowing what else to say. Alastor hummed, lifting your hand to press a kiss on your palm. “I should be at home.”

The thought of never being in your small apartment again brought a pang to your heart – you’d called that shoebox apartment your home for a few years now and weren’t ready to let it go just yet, especially not without having said goodbye first!

You didn’t realise you were crying until Alastor cooed at you again, lowering his face to kiss away your tears and pepper more kisses over your face… and you let him.

Really, you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter – Alastor was one of the most powerful demons in hell, and you were just a harmless bunny in comparison, and you needed to stay on his good side if you wanted to exist in hell in peace.

Alastor tucked your head under his chin as he gently hushed your crying, rocking you back and forth soothingly.

“I… I want to go home,” you choked out, and Alastor pouted, pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

“Your home is here with me, my bunny,” was his soft answer, “I know you don’t want to be here right now, but you’ll learn to love being with me, I promise you.”

You cried harder at that, and the demon hushed your cries, humming to you and offering one of your favourite bunny plushies from home, which you gratefully snatched out of his hands and hugged tightly. Your tears eventually died down, and you sniffed, trying to move out of his lap, but his arm tightened around your waist, making you stay put.

“Now, my bunny,” he tilted your chin up to look him in the eye as he spoke, “you’re going to stay with right here me forever~”

Terror clenched around your heart, and it must have shown on your face because he tightened his grasp around you.

“No, no, none of that,” he tutted and kissed your forehead lovingly. “You’re going to stay here and be my spoiled little wife, understand?”

You didn’t know what else to do or say – you had no leverage to offer for your freedom and no way to get back home – not to mention how you’d explain your new bunny features to everyone back home. Really, your only realistic option was to stay with Alastor, as awful as that sounded.

You reluctantly nodded, and his smile widened, if possible.

“Grand! You’ll come to love me as I love you, my bunny. You don’t have a choice anymore.”