#【 I AM THE KNIFE IN THE DARK | ALASTOR ( ABOUT ). 】

[staticgcne]

character tags.

[rory-cakes]

A Buck and A Canary

What was she doing here?

Why was she smiling at him like nothing happened?

He left their child alone!

He let her die!

He lied to her!

It has been one week since the battle at the Habin Hotel. They were starting to finish the reconstruction of the hotel when something strange happened. An angel appeared. 

“Hello! My name is Y/n Altruist, and the higher-ups of heaven have sent me to oversee the progress of the hotel!” 

“THEY CHANGED THEIR MINDS!?” Charlie was practically vibrating with joy. 

“Why?” Vaggie asked skeptically. 

“Well, unlike before, we have proof that your hotel works! A certain serpent has shown up in heaven!”

“Sir Penitouse is alive!” everyone was filled with overwhelming joy. 

“Also”

Y/n bowed in respect. 

“I deeply apologize for the exterminations. They were never supposed to happen. Sera and Adam were working alone in that sense.” 

Charlie grabbed her hand and helped her back up. 

“So really, no one knew? How is that possible?”

“The seven virtues are the only defense against evil on Earth so they have their hands full with that, I’m afraid. I was at the meeting and I brought up the issue as soon as I could!”

“Why do you care so much about what happens to us? No offense, we’re really grateful you did what you did! But why?”

“Well, I'm afraid my answer is a little selfish. My husband is down here. He wasn’t a good man but he was a good husband and he would have been a good father hadn’t he died.”

How did an angel like her end up with someone down here?

Wait-

An angel like her?

“Im sorry, but what is your husband’s na-”

“Birdy?”

“Alastor?”

Alastor sat uncomfortably on the plush couch in his room. Y/n sat equally as uncomfortable in a chair of a similar design. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. 

Alastor avoided making eye contact with his wife. I mean she had to know who he truly was at this point. How could she not?

“Alastor.”

She breaks the silence. 

“I’ve missed you dearly, my darling.”

Why was she smiling?

“I know what you did, and while I can’t say I’m pleased, that doesn’t change the fact that you are my husband.”

What?

“You cherished and loved me for so many years. You took care of me and Eudora. You loved me with everything you had.”

This isn’t right.

“So, if you haven’t stopped loving me in the time we’ve been apart,”

No

“I’d like to be your wife still.”

Alastor finally looked at his ethereal wife. She was so good. She shouldn’t be corrupted by his darkness. 

“I left her alone.”

“So did I.”

Y/n smiled at the man in front of her. This was her Alastor. This was the man she fell in love with. Sure, there were blazing red flags and she should probably be running for the hills. However, she can’t deny the urge to be with him. 

“I’ve been watching over her.”

“You have? How is she?”

“She’s lived a long life. She’s been married to her wife for about 40 years now. She adopted three kids and has a bunch of grandkids. She had her own radio show, Al!”

“She did?”

“She did.”

Y/n moves to sit beside him and grabs his hand with both of hers. Alastor finally pulls her closer,

“You deserve so much more than I am. I cursed you in life I can’t let you get hurt again.”

“You are all that I want, and if I get cursed because of it, that will have been my decision.”

She places her hand on his face, and he leans into it. 

“My darling Alastor, there is nothing you can do for me to stop loving you.”

“Alright, Birdy, I’ll have you for as long as you wish to stay.”

And so the Buck was reunited with his Canary.  

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked the last part of Alastor's Birdy! If you have scenarios you would like me to write with this au, just send me an ask and ill get to it as soon as I can!

Taglist: @crazed-flower, @nanamunath, @preferably-fictional, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @leximus98, @cupidsgift, @mag-chan, @stygianoir, @thereeallink, @yelloeukulele, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, blurpleuni-squid, @galaxywing-has-adhd, @just-here-reading, @deez-nuts0, @strawberry-gothic, @purplerose291,@1-800-mocha, @trashbin-nie, @queenmizuki, @nkirukaj @bennythebitch @otherthoughtsofbu, @fantasycantasy, @hunnybee11626, @notally-tormal, @valerie-36, @lovingyeet, @holographicage, @har-har-harvey, @i-love-jafar, @cupidsgift, @meow-meowo, @theblueslytherin, @deadt3tinside, @lyralibra, @the-unhinged-raccoon, @avitute, @alastorswifeee, @stygianoir, @sideshow-b0b, @deadlymouse123, @mysingularitybts, @emotionalfangirl2002, @t0xic1vi, @goodlittlepup, @starsatmyhome, @wendds, @reader3, @redfoxgotlost, @hurthermore, @frostychurro @isa-dragon

[blackypanther9]

I keep my words

WARNING!: Blood x gore, murder, cursing, violence, graphic (?) murder scenes AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

TAGLIST: @l0liamk @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved

(I hope the tags work TvT)

A/N: This is the second part of “I’ll protect you”. Art belongs to rightful owner (I just get this shit from Google)

Words: 3 401

It had been three days, since M/n’s breakdown and when he vented to Alastor about how bad his biological parents really were. As soon as Alastor did his job, he grabbed a sleeping M/n and returned back home. The next day they got a restriction order against M/n’s biological parents and then Alastor let another day pass.

This was day three and he was ready to kill them. His adopted Son told him where they lived and he spied on them the last day. They were arranging everything to make a kill and run. They had weapons and started to pack their things. They were really planning to kill him and M/n and then to run away.

‘Not while I am still alive.’, Alastor thought grimly.

He told M/n the lie, that he had to get to his job without him, it was a last minute call. The boy pouted, but let him go, after Alastor tucked him into bed for an early night rest. Alastor wore the clothes he usually wore when he went killing, hunting knife with him.

He made his way to M/n’s former home. The house was pretty far away from any neighbors, hence why no one knew what happened in that house. He saw an open window and rolled his eyes.

Why would any idiot leave their window wide open in the middle of the night, knowing a killer is on the loose too ?

Alastor climbed inside through the window and took the cold frying pan, that was on the stove. He sneaked around and saw Fred L/n first. He went right behind him and then swung the pan with all his might.

BAM !

Fred flinched in shock, then passed out and hit the floor. Alastor had so much rage and disgust in his eyes for that man. He reminded him of his own Father. Vile !

“Fred, honey ? What happened ?”, Gorgia’s voice called.

Alastor quickly hid in the shadows, almost invisible, thanks to the poor light and dark clothes he wore. She came down the stairs and soon entered the room, she sighed in annoyance.

“Again ? Why are you such a heavy drinker ?”, she complained.

As soon as she wasn’t looking anywhere near Alastor’s direction anymore, he dashed out of the shadows and slammed the frying pan into her head too. She yelped in pain and then was passed out on the floor.

Alastor panted softly and eyed her with as much rage and disgust as he eyed Fred, while he had a sinister grin on his face, the whole time. He was so ready to kill them. And he won’t make it quick, oh, no, no, no~

-Time skip-

Alastor tied Fred and Gorgia up in their basement, remembering that his adopted Son mentioned that it was the most vile place, in the house, and the place they loved to torture him most in, with Linda.

He waited for them to wake up already. While he waited he looked around in the house, looking for diaries, pictures anything they had that revolved around their kids. Nothing of these sorts were there. It was like they never had children to begin with, which angered him even more.

Then there was a yell and Alastor grinned more sadistically. He returned to the basement and saw them both wide awake, trying to get out of their bounds. They stopped when they saw Alastor.

“Who are you ?!”, Fred hollered in anger.

“Please, untie us !”, Gorgia begged.

Alastor chuckled at first then it turned into a full cackle. He looked at Gorgia’s pathetic face. She had tears and snot running down her face.

“My, oh my~ For the big mouth you had, on my Radio Show, you seem very pathetic now.”, Alastor said to Gorgia with a voice full of disgust.

The two adult’s eyes widened. Gorgia was in utter shock and horror, while Fred scoffed and glared even harder. Then he struggled even harder.

“I will KILL you, you Bastard ! That damn brat was supposed to DIE !”, Fred hollered.

Alastor laughed and played with his hunting knife. The two froze again and looked at the object, Alastor wielded. He shot them a sinister grin.

“You know, that’s funny, my good man ! Since when do we blame our own children for our own actions, hmm ? Do tell~”, Alastor teased out.

Fred scoffed with a glare.

“That mistake had it coming, let her own Sister get taken and killed and then dared to blame it all on us !”, he yelled.

“And he was very useless and unhelpful in the house.”, Gorgia added.

Alastor rolled his eyes, but his sinister smile never fell. He ran his fingers up and down the side of his blade.

“Hmm, I have to disagree with you there ! You see, since the kid has been with me, he proved himself rather useful, helps around a lot and even provides some entertainment ! And what was the boy supposed to do, as his Sister got taken, hmm ? He tried to chase down the car and even notified the police. You are the adults, you were supposed to be their guardians, yet here you are, proving to me that you are nothing more but worthless scum !”, Alastor said happily.

“Watch it, shit talker !”, Fred threatened with a growl.

Alastor laughed and then gave the man a piercing, daring glare. One, that made Gorgia gulp in fear. He came closer and put the tip of his hunting knife near Fred’s throat.

“Or what~?”, Alastor asked in a teasing, yet challenging tone.

Fred didn’t back down and glared at Alastor.

“Or I will kill you in a very painful way, Fucker.”, Fred sneered out.

Alastor gave him a lips closed sharp grin, then cocked his head to his right, partly amused.

“Oh, really ?”, he asked in a tone, that said he didn’t take the threat seriously.

“Really, Bastard. You are too much of a little wet Pussy to kill one of us. You are just fucking bluffing.”, Fred stated with a smirk.

“Are you sure about that~?”

Fred gave him a wolfish grin and nodded. Alastor didn’t drop his smirk as he moved his hunting knife.

“AACK !!”, Fred gasped in pain.

Gorgia screamed and sobbed, while Alastor gave him that same grin, his hunting knife in Fred’s lower stomach. The man looked back up at Alastor, fear and pain evident in his eyes. Alastor chuckled and playfully tutted at him.

“You should never be too confidant, Fred L/n~ Now look what you made me do, my good man ! Oh, such a terrible deed, indeedy !”, Alastor mocked with a happy voice.

Before the man could reply or beg, Alastor dragged his knife up, more blood spilled, Fred let out strangled screams, while Gorgia was wailing. Alastor’s smile grew more and more sinister the higher he sliced with his knife. He tore it out as it was at his sternum, forcefully, then he stepped back and Fred’s organs started to fall out, he gargled on his own blood and pain, while Gorgia screeched in terror at the display.

She stared at Alastor in horror. He still had his eyes on her Husband, relishing in the scene he created. She saw that his eyes didn’t seem brown anymore, like they were before, but from the angle she looked at his eyes now...they seemed to be red. It terrified her.

Alastor laughed at the still slowly dying Fred. He looked at his hunting knife amused and satisfied.

“Do you know...that the human body can suffer like this for many hours ? My good man, you are going to die slowly for long, long minutes !”, Alastor informed them both.

“No ! No, please ! He already can’t be saved anymore ! Please, at least end his suffering !”, Gorgia pleaded.

Alastor snapped his head to look at her, close lipped smile still there, eyes wide, but it wasn’t from surprise, it was from bloodlust and to show that he is all ears. He put his blood covered, yet gloved, hand on his chin, mocking to be thinking about it.

“Hmmm....No.”, he replied as he grinned at her, flashing his teeth at her.

She stared at Fred helplessly. She was wailing as she knew, that she couldn’t change the Radio Host’s mind.

“Why are you crying, hmm ? It’s not like he will leave you ! And you won’t die all alone either ! See that as a merciful act !”, he said happily, mocking her.

She knew that he wanted to kill her too, maybe she can weasel herself out of it...

“I’ll do anything you want, if you don’t kill me ! Anything, I promise !”, she begged.

Alastor looked at her amused.

“HA ! No.”, he replied.

“Please ! I can be useful !”, she tried to change his mind.

“Hmmm... No.”, he answered again, with a shit eating grin.

“I can show you a good time !”, she tried as her last resort.

It always worked when she offered her body, but not with this man. The Radio Host recoiled, like he was smacked, and stared at her.

“No, thank you. I don’t need a harlot. Not interested in such things, who knows how many diseases you have, from having spend some nights with other men. I don’t wish to be infected.”, he denied.

He felt revolted in disgust at that suggestion, in his mind. Who did that woman think she was ? Hot shit ?

“Please reconsider-!”

“Dear...do you ever shut up ?”, Alastor asked with his happy tone.

Underneath that happy tone, Alastor was annoyed and fuming. Gorgia was sobbing loudly and it was ugly, which annoyed Alastor even more. At first it was fun and entertaining, now it was boring and annoying as hell.

He went in front of her tied up form and she whimpered, trying to quiet down. Before she could plead again, the Bayou Killer boxed her into the throat. It knocked her breath away and she wheezed. She tried to talk again, but her voice was barely audible.

“Much better, Dear !”, Alastor cheerily said and left her side again.

The Radio Host took the fallen out organs one by one and started to decorate the basement with them, which made the woman wail silently, while Fred was still slowly dying. Alastor hummed happily as he decorated, thinking about a way to torture Gorgia to her end.

Then he got his sadistic idea and his smile, which seemed to get even more sinister than before, said that it was a fantastic one.

“After I am done decorating with these organs, you better pray that I am not missing something as decoration, otherwise you will have to pay the price, Harlot !”, Alastor informed her happily.

More tears fell and she stared at the Killer in fear.

After a few minutes he was done and looked around, tapping his chin in thought.

“Hmm...Oh goodness, this won’t do !”, he said disapprovingly.

He waited a bit, then spoke again, hearing her quick breaths and sniffles.

“I am missing a few things, such a scoundrel !”, Alastor exclaimed in mock disappointment.

At that the woman had big eyes of terror and she sobbed harder. Alastor slowly approached her.

“Seems like, I have to take the other decorations from you, Darling~”, he said and drew out his hunting knife again.

She shook her head, wheezing out pleads, that fell on deaf ears. The Killer looked at her left hand, that was tied up and his eyes flashed. She saw the red hue again in his brown eyes and she shivered in fear.

He gave her a smile, that might have looked charming, if he wouldn’t be killing her right now. He grabbed her left hand and made her straighten out her pointer finger, then he slammed his hunting knife down, while she struggled and pleaded more, knowing what he will do.

Her voice seemed to return as she screamed in pain, as he chopped off her left pointer finger. It hit the floor, but Alastor was far from done.

“Perfect, nine more to go.”, he said darkly.

She screamed and begged, struggled and wailed for mercy. But Alastor didn’t care and continued. Each time he chopped off a finger, she screamed in agony and his sadistic grin grew.

-Time skip-

Gorgia was sobbing and hiccupping as Alastor finished decorating the entrance to the Basement, with her chopped off fingers. He would have loved to detach more from her body, but he had no saw or axe and he was also running out of time. He laughed as he saw Gorgia’s and Fred’s miserable faces.

He drew his hunting knife and approached them with a sinister grin. Fred passed out for a few seconds about three minutes ago, now he was back awake, and weak.

“Hmm...who am I going to kill first ? Will I kill you or your husband first ? I don’t know...”, Alastor feigned conflicted.

“If you...kill us both anyways....then why does it matter....who dies first ?”, Gorgia got out weakly, her voice hoarse and weak from all the screaming and wailing.

“The first one will be able to go first, free of their pain of course ! It matters, because I can’t decide who shall be relieved first. I am a Gentleman usually and that would mean, that you would be the first one to go, but at the same time, you hurt both of your kids an awful lot and didn’t suffer as long as your husband. He suffered longer and is in more pain, but he physically abused his kids more than I would like to have known. So...I have a very big issue now.”

He wanted to see if Gorgia was selfish. She looked at her husband, even though she cheated on him a few times, she didn’t hate him. She looked at Alastor, determined.

“Kill him first.”, she said.

He didn’t show it, but Alastor was surprised. She chose him over her, at least she had a little bit of love for him there. He went in front of Fred and Gorgia screwed her eyes shut, as Alastor shoved his hand inside her husband’s chest and ripped his heart out. Fred’s body stiffened for a second, then went slack. He was dead.

Alastor threw the heart against the basement wall to his left. As it made contact it popped, like a water balloon, and painted the wall red. He approached Gorgia and made her look at the spot, the heart popped. She sobbed again, but no tears can be shed anymore.

“I am impressed that you chose him to die first, I’ll admit that. Even though you two were pigs, I suppose for that one I cut you some slack, Madam.”, Alastor told her, amused.

She looked at him, before she could say anything else, she gasped in pain and wheezed. Alastor drove his hunting knife into her stomach, his grin sadistic and his chocolate brown eyes holding a red hue in them. Then he continuously tore his knife out and stabbed her again. She was gargling on her own blood, Alastor was covered in it, but he didn’t stop.

He only stopped as her body had gone limp long ago and she had at least 120 stab wounds in her torso. It didn’t take long for him to recover, catch his breath, make sure he left no evidence of himself behind and then to leave the house the way he entered, to return home.

As he arrived back at home, he rushed to the bathroom and threw his clothes into the bathtub, then let in cold water. After his clothes were soaking in the cold water, where he added a bit of cleaner inside, he jumped into the shower and showered the blood on his body off.

Then he cleaned his clothes and hung them over the heater in the room, letting them dry. He checked on M/n after that, who was still sleeping, and then he went to bed himself. Sleep quickly consumed him as the blood rush and adrenaline went down.

-Three days later-

The police didn’t find the bodies yet, which was good and at the same time irritating, in Alastor’s opinion. M/n didn’t sleep properly last night, but wanted to come with him to work anyways, so the Radio Host packed a pillow and fluffy blanket into a small bag, just in case. M/n was snuggled into it at the moment, napping the day away.

Alastor lifted his cup of coffee to drink and was shocked when nothing entered his mouth. He looked into his mug.

‘Already empty ? Guess I have to refill it. M/n will be fine alone for five minutes, right ?’

Alastor was worried and conflicted. He knew his Boss was busy, but he never took any chances since he knew that he was...INTERESTED in M/n, if you catch the drift. He looked at the door and then back at M/n. Then the male took a deep breath and got up, opened the door and left.

‘Only five minutes. Nothing will happen to him in five minutes.’, Alastor tried to reassure himself, to calm his nerves.

He was soon at the Coffee machine and prepared his beverage.

‘Only five minutes...’

-Five minutes later-

As he returned he froze in shock and rage. In his office, was his Boss, in front of M/n’s sleeping body, blanket pulled away. The pervert stared at M/n’s ass, like it was dessert. Alastor had to do something ! Quick !

He can’t stand up against his Boss, without getting fired. He had a mixed skin color and not white, his Boss was and he was just as racist as almost the rest of New Orleans.

He carefully set his mug down on the floor, not making a sound. Then he pulled out a switchblade from his pants’ pocket, he flipped it open, then quietly approached his Boss, who had his back still towards him. Just as that perverted old man was about to touch Alastor’s adopted Son’s thighs, the Radio Host slammed the knife down and into his Boss’ head.

The man jerked up and tried to yell, but Alastor covered his mouth quickly and then tore him away from M/n, who was luckily still asleep. He tore him to the small closet that was in Alastor’s office and then slit his throat. Renold Floyd started to choke on his own blood and his life was draining fast from him. Alastor closed the closet door behind him, glaring at his dying, soon to be, ex Boss.

“Don’t touch my fucking child, you vile pig.”, Alastor growled out.

Renold tried to fight against his fate, but he soon enough was dead anyways. Alastor scoffed and then exited the closet, locking the door in case. He checked his clothes and there was no blood stain on him. Good.

He looked at M/n. His Son.

In shock he shook his head. What was he thinking ?! M/n is NOT his Son !

He looked at the boy again, who was unaware and sleeping peacefully. He was safe and sound. It warmed the Killer’s heart.

Yes...M/n is his Son. HIS only. No one is allowed to touch him.

‘I promised that I will never let anyone else hurt you or even touch you, without your consent. I swore to you, to protect you. I am planning to keep these promises, my Son.’

He approached the sleeping boy and pulled the blanket back over his small body.

‘I always keep my words. I will protect you, no matter what, until the day I die.’

He gave a soft kiss onto M/n’s forehead, which made the boy smile in his sleep softly. It almost killed Alastor. The boy was so much cuteness at once. The man smiled in adoration, then he collected his mug of coffee and sat back down on his microphone, waiting to get back on air.

He knew that his Son will be safe with him.

Always.

Masterlist HERE !

[sugoi-writes]

This is Not a Love Story, This is an Autopsy - Part 1

A/N- PHEW! I wanted to kick out of my hiatus with something I've been itching to do... An original series! I wasn't quiet happy with some of my longer works (and trust, they will probably be rewritten, too). So, this is the start of something new! Something that'll be fresh!

I've been heavily inspired/influenced by @minkdelovely and @hazelfoureyes, who keep encouraging me to just... do it. So I'm doing it!

BEFORE you get too invested, this story WILL be dark. It will be GOREY, graphic at times, there will be filthy, raunchy smut... But this is gonna be a LOT of hurt, with VERY LITTLE comfort. Alastor will NOT be a kind man. The title should be taken seriously, if you wish to continue. BUT FOR NOW... PHEW... sorry, here's part one!!!

Warnings/Promises: Mystery murder woman, Alastor is intrigued, a poor demon suddenly doesn't have a face, cursing, banter, Mystery woman wants to kill Alastor, and Alastor doesn't have GREAT intentions either... Just-- Alastor being ALASTOR! (Mystery woman is referred to in 3rd person, but this may change! Not sure yet)

Please enjoy! ❤️ Header image created by bat-boness on Tumblr! ❤️

Alastor's evening stroll simulated any other: pleasantries exchanged with himself, and his dainty, dated tunes filling the air. This served as a chipper contrast to his surroundings of hurried footsteps, startled shrieks, and the general cacophony on this side of The Pentagram. Oh, tonight was certainly a good night! ...But it was about to get so much better.

The sound of wet squelching, akin to a crushed watermelon, caught his attention. His deer-like ears twisted in it's direction, his smile expanding. What a curious sound! One he was aptly familiar with! It could only be one thing...

Gurgling, disjointed cries and the sputtering of fluids sounded like a grotesque melody. Alastor could hear steady, heavy breathing keeping the tempo. An act of passion... well, in the killing sense, surely. Ever the curious sort, Alastor sent his shadow to investigate. Its wide eyes take in the sight of the alleyway expectantly, eager to witness the fuss first.

A large figure loomed over a hapless victim, the arms flinching and trembling subconsciously as the attacker worked diligently. The sounds from before had morphed into a gut wrenching cutting noise: the unmistakable sound of a sharp knife carving through flesh... but where?

The shadow blinked, inching closer to the scene to get a better look. However, the attacker flinched, turning towards the apparation with a speed that would snap the neck of a human. It was spotted.

In the blink of an eye, a knife came off of a thigh garter belt, hurdling full force towards the Shadow. The knife struck between the entity’s eyes, a heated hiss thrown back to the stranger. Alastor's obedient pet slinked back to its master, unable to give a more helpful report. Alastor hummed in amusement, taking two wide strides to his right. Now, he was stationed at the mouth of the alley, his teeth gleaming under the dim streetlight.

"Do forgive me, dear, I am not known to eavesdrop," a lie, Alastor thought," But I couldn't help but overhear a scuffle~ What did that poor beau do to deserve such fury?"

Alastor wanted to be nearer, to see what you had done to the now-corpse of the demon... but alas, he couldn't just yet. Even with the back facing him, the Radio Demon got a better glimpse at the disheveled stranger.

A large, wide shoulder span dipped in and flowed back out in a delightful curve: a tasteful hourglass shape. Brunette and blonde hair cascaded just past the shoulders, spattered with blood… that was even more tasteful. Judging from the spray's pattern, this blood came from somewhere else… or someone else, in this case. The broad shoulders led to muscular, intense looking arms. The limbs were so red that it seemed they were dipped in a vat of coagulated blood. He could scarcely see the little nicks and scars that littered the taunt skin.

When Alastor continued to walk forward, a sharp turn of the head greeted him. Startling, grey eyes with bloodshot whites glared back at him. The figure didn't answer him, staring him down with a look that could frighten a dictator. Blonde and brunette fringe framed the face, a soft contrast to the rest of the body. Full, flushed cheeks from exertion, complimented by wide eyes and a set of thick, heavy lashes. And, dozens of shallow, silver-white scars littering the pale, plump face. Alastor's eyebrows rose with interest, the silence only motivating him to get closer.

The figure growled, snarling like a caged animal as it turned fully towards him... a woman, he assumed. This woman had blood sprayed across her entire upper body, indicating that this was indeed a passionate act of murder.

Alastor ceased his advances, both hands coming up in mock-surrender.

"Oh come now, dear, I mean no harm... 'just curious~ Won't you humor a demon for a spell? You might just hear your little story on my broadcast tonight~" he nearly sang, eyes squinting and watching carefully. He could tell that this beast of a woman was on high alert, and would likely try and jump him if he so much as thought the wrong word. Though he was confident in his abilities to defend himself, he was no bodybuilder: a fisty cuff that got too heated could mean his second death.

The woman’s gaze remained unphased as she came to her feet. Then, it morphed into a look of recognition.

While the mystery woman realized who was speaking to her, Alastor discovered what she had been carving off of the victim: his face. Alastor watched with an irrational sense of delight as the heavily scarred woman faced him properly. He couldn't help but shift his eyes to the scalped face of the victim, feeling his hands ball up into eager fists behind his back.

The cadaver’s face was grasped in the brunette’s calloused, large hands, blood sliding through her knuckles like a babbling creak in the woods. Had he been a sane man, he would have found the image unsightly. But between his fall from grace and his afterlife of trouble… he found the sight utterly delicious.

Alastor swallowed something in his throat... nerves? Excitement? A mutual interest between strangers? What an evening to find a like-minded individual…

"...You're the Radio Demon..." the murderer said simply. Her voice was a hard, uneven gravel, as if she hardly spoke at all. Alastor's smile widened, giddy at the budding interaction.

"Ahh, my reputation precedes me~ But you can call me Alastor, sweetheart. And what may I call you, hmm?" The tone of his sing-song charm did not match the cannibalistic mania of his too-wide smile. His voice was the cheese, nestled inside an obvious mousetrap.

Alastor stepped even closer, extending a hand out to the rabid-looking woman. Her steely eyes looked to his hand, before back to his face. Her expression remained unchanged.

"...I don't do handshakes," she replied bluntly, her gaze burrowing holes into Alastor's complexion. She seemed to watch him just as intently, acutely aware of his dark aura. Her words sought to disguise her own intrigue.

"Ahh, apologies, dear-- Deeeaaaar...?"

Alastor raised a brow while he drew out the last word, eye twitching with annoyance. He cocked his head slightly as he leaned in, trying to goad her into a response. He expected a name sometime tonight. A name... just a name. If he had her name, he could work with that. Just let him get under that barrier, even if it's just a crack--

"I don't have one," the woman spat back, either uninterested or able to see through Alastor’s antics (of which, the Radio Demon wasn't sure).

A record scratch leaked through his frequency at the abrupt response. The curtness throttled his already thinking patience... Alastor's wide smile stammered for a moment, a tense chuckle bleeding through his clenched jaw. His fuzzy and sound-dampened amusement was practically oozing irritation...

Likewise, the tension that hung between the pair was far too thick.

This needed to be carved through with a knife, Alastor thought. He could still do this.

"Nonsense dear! Why, EVERYONE has a name!!! Surely there is something that people use to call you? To refer to you???" Alastor was a bit surprised by his own persistence. Why did her lack of name manage to throttle him?

...right. He found her fascinating, that's all. And fascinating people in Hell were often easy to exploit... easy to force into a deal. And by extension, she would be useful and entertaining.

"...people usually don't get the chance to talk to me," the brunette replied. Her stoney, hardened face slowly shifted into a sly smile. She chortled wickedly, licking her cracked lips,"...but they usually beg for their lives right about now."

Her sudden lunge surprises Alastor momentarily, before his pitch tendrils snap into action. The mad woman is caught and suspended mid-launch, a heavy tentacle struggling to keep her knife-wielding arm in check. Alastor clicks his tongue mockingly at her aggression. Back to square one, it seemed. What a simple creature!

"Ohh dear, is that a way to talk to someone? If you plan to stab me, at least offer to take me on a stroll first. Perhaps to a coffee shop?" The deranged woman's mouth was tightly pulled into a horrifying snarl, teeth bared and glistening with spit. Had she contracted rabies? Or was she still riding the feral high of a fresh kill? Neither option seemed to startle or surprise Alastor all that much.

He paid her no mind as he walked around her in a slow, teasing circle: like a predator circling helpless prey. But the woman grunted and struggled just the same, hair falling into her face as she tried to break free. The noises she made had shivers of pride running up Alastor's spine. This interest almost seemed... more than that. More than morbid curiosity… He shook the thought away from his mind, his cheeks burning from how harshly he forced himself to smile.

Alastor stepped within striking distance, another tentacle wrapping around the knife-wielding hand as he looked at her troubled face.

"G-Go-- nnnhhhfucker-- Go fuck yourself, freak," the woman hissed, spitting towards the Radio Demon. He simply tilted his head, the spittle missing his pristine cheek. Annoying and gauche... he would have to break her of that garish habit.

"I'm afraid carnal desires haven't interested me for quite some time. Well... past the one you dabbled with moments ago. I must say I'm mighty interested in your handywork~"

Alastor's taloned hand squished the cheeks of the captured woman, turning her face this way and that. Alastor was smirking with an air of superiority as he took in every imperfection and scar that maimed her round face... To him, she was breathtaking, each scar revealing an incident or story he would be familiar with. He felt interested in dissecting her, and figuring out just what or who caused the nicks and cuts.

Thankfully, his brush with murder and other crimes made breaking down her injuries a breeze. Most of them could be summarized as self defense marks left by a weaker victim. This woman was STRONG... There was no question about that. And she wasn't afraid of getting dirty to get her desires fulfilled. He could find that quality to be quite charming... quite useful.

"If you truly do not have a name... might I suggest one?"

The question puzzles the brunette, eyes blinking in rapid succession. It took her a few moments to process the offer.

"You... want to name me?" She retorted, her squished face distorting her bewilderment," Like some goddamn PET?"

"I’m simply offering you one, dear. No need to make a fuss. Perhaps you could find it helpful, should you ever need to be referred to more... directly. With familiarity. You needn't take it, if it displeases you."

Alastor sighed dramatically as the woman thrashed in anger, shaking his head in tandem. It was quite easy to backtrack with this one, wasn’t it?

The woman stared back at the Radio Demon, intense grey embracing hellish red in a heated standoff. One could kill the other in a heartbeat, their acts only halted by straining tentacles. They were in a tense ceasefire, if only for their own sakes.

The woman sighed, relenting after what felt like an eternity," If it causes you to let go of me... you may give me a name, Radio Demon."

"Alastor," the male corrected, pinching her cheeks with harsher intent. The woman winced, but nodded curtly," A-Alastor..."

The venom that oozed from her harsh tone made molten heat fill Alastor’s chest. She could be obedient… how interesting.

The deer demon sneered, face reflecting his earlier delight as his eyes briefly flickered. The name rolled off her tongue so easily... Oh, he liked seeing her like this. Another charming quality he could get used to… and take use of.

"Carver."

The woman blinked, scoffing," Really?"

"Yes. Carver. You could always go by 'The Carver', if you wished, but I rather think the name suits you... a little on the nose, maybe, but simple. Just like you." Alastor's thumb rubs over the woman's cheek, a claw dangerously close to gouging her eye out. The demoness’ face softens, the touch causing conflicting feelings to flit across it.

Fright, anger, surprise, and… yearning. Had Alastor not been observant and experienced with reading people, he might have missed a few of these. Hell, the micro expressions lasted for seconds, if that… But thankfully, his eyes were as sharp as the blade hovering above his head.

Alastor’s hand pauses on her flushed cheek, stashing the useful information in the recesses of his dark mind.

"...fine... That name is fine, Alastor."

Carver fell to the dank and rancid ground with a heavy thud, Alastor clasping his hands together resolutely. Tentacles were dismissed as he eyed her eagerly.

“Splendid, dear! Carver it is! Now, about our earlier topic–”

Carver dusted off her knees as she stood, eyeing the deer-esque demon cautiously. She allowed him to continue, despite her better judgment to gut him then and there.

“What do you say to a bit of coffee, over lunch?”

Carver blinks for a moment, then another, arms folding in front of her chest,” You're joking, right?”

Alastor practically giggles, a dark tendril reforming to hold up the skinned face of her victim,” I'm more of an emcee than a comedian, dear… though I can never pass on a good punchline! Haha!”

When Alastor extends the face to the woman, he squints mischievously,” But no, I'm being quite genuine… Tomorrow, Cannibal Town. There's a quaint little shop by Rosie’s Emporium, the Brimstone Brew… I trust that you've heard of it?”

Curtly, Carver nods, taking her trophy from the Radio Demon indignantly,” Vaguely. I just started working a new job closeby, actually,” she admits. The moment she does, she mentally curses herself. Alastor’s eyes widen, a hand childishly coming to cover his lips. Or more accurately, like a elitist, royal woman with her hand fan, trying to stife her reaction to juicy gossip.

“Pray tell, what do you do~?”

Carver scoffs, casting her gaze anywhere other than the man’s demented smile,” …just some butcher shop. The manager apparently got… well, butchered. So there was a vacancy that the Assistant Manager filled. Soooo… I– I was pulled in to become the new assistant there.”

Alastor seemed on the verge of jumping out of his own skin, leaning forward intently.

“You? Working in one of my favorite stops? Oh, how convenient, dear! Then hows about I ‘meat’ you there! Haha!”

The joke did not go unnoticed, a gruff ‘really?’ following after. He would need to work on her enthusiasm, too.

“See, we could go for a little stroll, and you can tell me more about this new venture of yours! Why, if it's entertaining enough, I'm sure your story would captivate an audience! My audience!”

Carver didn't get the chance to protest as the dapper demon took a few steps back, tipping his imaginary hat her way.

“Let's shoot for 11 o’clock, ‘sharp as your knife! I look forward to getting to know you better… Carver.”

And within a second, the crimson and ebony demon vanished into the shadows. Carver was left confused and stupefied by the entire interaction. She didn't even get a chance to tell Alastor that she actually had work that morning… not that the Radio Demon would stand for it. But, maybe she could brush him off easier this way… She was sure her new manager would intervene or prevent the entire situation from escalating...

The woman dug around in her satchel, until she found a gallon freezer bag. She unceremoniously threw the bloody, skinned face of her victim into her pack, rolling her eyes. Maybe ‘Carver’ was an alright name after all…

What a fucking day… and what a fucking man, to have the nerve to be so… so…

Carver blinked a few times, words escaping her. He was an asshole, but also seemed to have manners… He was infamous, but didn't seem to match the dark reputation… He was bitchy, but also… surprisingly gentle with her?

Carver touched her cheek, where a taloned finger once lingered. A swift flush ghosted across her face as she kicked the corpse on the ground, huffing defiantly. The sooner she could shake this guy off her back, the better. She didn't do ‘friends’. She didn't even have acquaintances. And yet, all in one night, she was given a nickname and asked to go on a coffee date, seemingly just to… talk?

Never would she have imagined such an odd scenario before now. But, she did have an interesting opportunity. Take him out on a date before you stab him, she loosely recalled. And she was more than eager to take him up on that offer to get him off her back.

Carver chuckled, clicking her tongue as she started the trek to her apartment. Maybe she could call in sick tomorrow! Why not?

She could humor this man, if only to hear what his screams would sound like. She hoped that his terror sounded as desperate and sweet as the ones from his broadcast… An artist often immolated their work, and she had a feeling that his anguish would taste just as divine...

This is not a love story. This is an autopsy.

[seronsalk]

A pretty little nightingale...

Part 1

Alastor x female reader (sorry gents and non-binary pals, I'll do you next!)

Masterlist AN: An idea I've been obsessed with recently...sorry if it's bad. Dividers from our lovely @saradika-graphics Warnings: Mention of Violence

"Sometimes I stare at my ceiling for so long that I forget where I am. I forget I am in a fiery pit where at any moment a knife could be jabbed into my shoulders or back and twisted. At any moment I could be killed, kidnapped, tortured, or even feasted upon. Would I taste good? Would my killers be satisfied with my death or would they too be disappointed in what I could have been for them? And even now as my alarm goes off, I wonder where my soul would go if I did one night, not wake up."

The morning in hell was pretty normal to the morning's you were alive. Wake up, get ready, go downstairs to the club, dance and sing. That beautiful structure, belting one's heart to an audience every day with no worry.

Until you found yourself doing the same thing, but in your afterlife. In hell. You will forever curse yourself because who else would you blame for your eternal damnation?

As you walked down the stairs to the dark empty club, the other performers were there already practicing.

"Look who rolled out of bed! And how is our princessa this morning?" Dante spoke, he was an insufferable demon to be around this early in the morning, and that Spanish accent rolled off his tongue right into his trumpet. He was a beautiful demon; all the musicians were. It made you wonder why such pretty boys were stuck down here with you.

You smiled at him before speaking, "doing just fine til you opened your mouth, save your air for the horn." Another musician whose name was Hernando, forced everyone to refer to him as Sir Pesci for some weird reason then spoke with a laugh in his voice. "As if saving his air would help him sound better!"-"Hey Hernando, did your mom get the flores I sent her?" Dante suddenly spoke. "Ahhh, vaffanculo," the Italian man cursed back as he waved his hands dismissively at Dante.

You laughed at the scene as the other band members didn't understand a word being said under the accents before they all turned to you. It was warm-up time and it would go on for at least three hours.

By the time the jazz club was about to open you had dolled yourself up. The servers and bartenders had finally rolled in.

Throughout your shift many older sinners had trotted in at the sound of the music. But as you went to take a break in-between songs Dante came up to you. "Y/N, apparently some big shot wants to talk to you backstage."

You looked at him curiously, "Why m-" but you were cut off by your boss. He was an arrogant man who cared less for what others thought of him unless they were giving him money or popularity. One time just to get him to hear you when you complained about fixing the door in your dressing room, you had to pay him twenty bucks. He was built like a bull and like a bull, he sometimes charged in without thought or reason.

"Y/n let's go, got a big customer who wants to meet you!" he dragged you away with his bulky hands. Dante gave you a shrug as he walked off.

Alastor's POV:

It was a normal day in hell, he strutted down the road cane in hand. He was on his way to the cannibal colony to meet with Rosie.

When demons saw him they would jump into traffic or even through windows to avoid his gaze. His devilish constant smile sent even the tougher, bigger demons groveling.

As he was walking though, his ears twitched. The sound of jazz, but more prominent, a beautiful voice. He could recognize the song immediately, Heatwaves, by Ethel Waters. He followed the voice around the corner of the street and saw some demons trickling into a club. He twirled his cane in interest and his smile became wider.

He walked towards the bouncers, two of the biggest mobsters stood strong and firm, but one look at Alastor made them sweat. "Good'ay my good gents, tell me what is this fine establishment about then?" A little hint of Alastors transatlantic southern accent sprung like cattails in a bayou.

One of the bouncers spoke in an almost whisper, "It's The Spotted Fawn jazz club, sir." Alastor's smile widened in interest again. "Well, pay me no mind gentleman, I simply will be taking a look around." And with that, he walked past them and a second later one of the bouncers told the big boss.

He walked in, it smelled of rye and smoke. He loved the atmosphere, it was like he was in New Orleans all over again.

Then your voice struck his ears like lightning. He looked over towards the stage, jazz musicians playing behind you as you sang. Your h/l h/c hair bouncing as you swayed your hips to your own song.

Your boss had interrupted his train of thoughts, "Why I wouldn't have expected the radio demon to be in my club-welcome sir." He offered his hand to shake and Alastor's smile twisted as he ignored his hand. "Charming establishment you have here sir! I appreciate people who are still following the more traditional...ways." Alastor spoke his eyes wandering back to you as you danced on stage with one of the musicians.

"Say, my good man, who is that lovely dame singing?" Alastor inquired as he twirled his cane. "That'd be y/n sir, one of my finer performers." Y/n....your name twirled circles in his mind. You were gorgeous, as was your voice.

And for the first time in a while, since his mother and Rosie, he felt admiration for a woman. He spoke again, "Well I would love to meet h-" he was cut off. "2k upfront," was all the bull-built man said. Alastor's neck basically snapped as he looked at him, "Excuse me?" he said. "I don't trust any of you overlords and the last thing my performers need is the attention from one of you causing them, or me, problems. You wanna talk to her? Pay me or strike a deal sir." This bull had no class it made Alastor cackle. "Normally I'd kill you where you stand, but because I'm feeling generous about how lovely this establishment I'll let you off with a warning. Talk like that again towards me and I'll pull your guts out and serve them to your customers." His radio static backed his voice like a snarling panther. "Now about this deal, tell me what do you desire?" "Follow me we talk business in the back." The bull led Alastor away.

The bull brought her into his office, where Alastor was sitting. Her eyes widened a little, but she quickly sat down. "I was told you wanted to speak with me?" she asked. They were alone now.

EN: Hi guys so I like this idea, I was gonna make a part two, but let me know what you think!

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (see full series list here)

1993

A man stands in the doorway, leaning on a long staff, hidden away behind the shadow of a black travelling coat. Every head in the Hall turns to him, a great crackle of lightning forking across the enchanted ceiling. The man lowers his hood and shakes out a man of long, grizzled, dark grey hair and makes his way up to your table.

The loud, dull clunk of a wooden leg echoes throughout the silent Hall with every step he takes, and your ears prick with the recognition of that clunk — you've heard that clunk before...many times before.

He makes it to your table, lightning flashing and illuminating the man's face. The skin of his face is scarred and looks rough to the touch. There's a large chunk of his nose missing, his mouth is thin and his lips are cracked. But nothing compares to his eyes — the most unsettling part about him.

One is small, dark, and beady. Dark like the depths of the Black Lake. The other is quite the opposite — as large as a coin, the iris a startling, vivid blue. It's encased within an eye patch, held on by straps of leather. The blue eye moves without reason, spinning and twirling in its socket without blinking. And though the glass eye makes most look away from squeamishness, you give a little smile. You're well used to that eye by now, that skin, that clunk, that man.

It's the face of your old mentor, Alastor Moody.

Or, as he's more widely known...

Mad-Eye Moody.

Moody sits down at the table, shaking his man of grizzly hair. He pulls a small knife out his pocket, pulls a plate of sausages towards him, and spears one on the end of the knife before eating it.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore says brightly into the stunned silence. "Professor Moody."

Usually, the Hall erupts into applause from both the staff and teachers. However, tonight, it's only you, Dumbledore, and Hagrid that clap. Mad-Eye's not that bad, really, you just have to get used to him. He's a sweetheart!

Okay, that's a total lie.

But you do really just have to get used to his... peculiarities. Everyone'll be well adjusted to him by the end of the year, you're sure.

Moody doesn't seem to care about his unwelcome welcome, instead pulling a flask out of his pocket and taking a swig from it. Well, that's something he's always done — carry his own personal flask to drink out of.

"Constant vigilance!" He'd told you. "You'll never know if what's in front of you has been poisoned or not!"

Dumbledore clears his throat. "As I was saying," he says, smiling out at the crowd of gaping students, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that hasn't been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred Weasley exclaims loudly.

The tension that had been thickening ever since Moody's arrival breaks as nearly everyone bursts into laughter at Fred.

Dumbledore chuckles appreciatively. "I am not joking, Mr Weasley...though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Minerva clears her throat loudly from beside you.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time...no..." says Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what the tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Of course, as a member of staff, you've already been well briefed on the tournament and what's involved. You've heard it all before, and as per his instruction, you allow your attention to wander.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You trek down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, clutching a letter addressed to Remus in your hand. You dread having to walk back up all those stairs for your last class of the day in an hour. A few students are milling about the corridors, a few chatting amicably while others complain about the homework they've already gotten on the first day back.

You round a corner, glancing at the oil paintings on the wall next to you. Then, you start to hear the sound of a dull clunk echoing down the hallway, and Moody appears, hobbling towards you. His glass eye is swivelling erratically in its socket, but his good eye isn't looking at you.

"Oh, sir!"

When you were training to be an Auror — which you never got to finish — you always addressed Moody as sir. Never Mad-Eye, never Alastor. And when you were talking about him with somebody else, you always said Moody. His character demands respect and you don't hesitate to give it.

But this is different. Now, you're proper colleagues. It's a bit strange, like adjusting to working alongside Minerva when you first started here. Hopefully you'll adjust to his presence just as easily as Minerva's.

Moody flinches when he hears you call out, head snapping to you, regular eye fixating on you.

You give him a hesitant smile, nodding at him. "It's — uh — it's been a while, sir. It's good to see you again."

Something flashes in his good eye — recognition. His glass eye spins and looks at you, scrutinizing you silently. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up under that interrogating eye.

It's a while before he answers.

"Yes."

"I know this probably isn't the field you expected me to go into — but you know, after everything..." You chuckle awkwardly, shrugging. You immediately curse yourself for that — that chuckle would have instantly gotten you reprimanded during your training.

"It's unconfident!" he'd said. "You're letting your guard down, appearing vulnerable. Do you want your enemies to think you're an easy target?"

But now, Moody doesn't comment on it. He barely even seems to register it.

"Right," he says curtly, before continuing on his way, hobbling down the corridor. You turn and stare after him, mouth agape at his coldness. You thought you had bonded during your time together, that he thought of you as a good student. And you really looked up to him too, you still do. But he disregarded you like it was nothing...like he forgot who you were.

As you stare after him, he pulls his flask out of his pocket and takes a swig from it, grimacing. He glances back over his shoulder and catches you staring. You quickly turn around and continue towards the owlery, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

Reuniting with your old mentor? Check!

Did it go well? Nope!

How embarrassing.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

It's Thursday evening, and you sit in your office, reading Astronomy's Articles. The fireplace crackles in the corner, radiating warmth throughout the room. There's quite an interesting piece here on how old astronomical teachings influenced pop culture, and you're nearly finished it when there's a weak knock at the door. At first you think you might've imagined it, but the knock comes again, slightly louder this time.

You go over to open it, revealing Neville Longbottom, who is currently staring down at his shoes. In his hands, you spot a heavy book. He's shaking.

"Neville, dear, what's wrong?" You ask gently, concern obvious in your voice.

"C — can I please come in?" The poor boy's voice is no louder than a whisper. You nod wordlessly, opening the door further for him to come in and then closing it softly behind him.

"Sit down there, Neville, and a take a deep breath," you say kindly. You grab a jug and fill it with water, placing it on your desk with a glass for him. You pull all your papers out of the way and he sits down.

You sit down in your chair, looking across at him encouragingly. You don't say anything, just wait for him to start himself. While he's quiet, you take a look at the book in his hands, titled: Magical Mediterranean Water-Plants and Their Properties.

"I — I don't want to bother you, Professor."

You shake your head. "Neville, you could never bother me. Please, tell me. What happened?"

He doesn't meet your eyes, hands fiddling with the book.

"I just...Professor, when my parents...when they...did they really go through all that p-pain?" he asks shakily.

You're highly taken aback by this. What is he doing asking something like that? The answer will only hurt him further.

"Oh, Neville, what brings this on?"

He doesn't answer you for a moment, looking down at the cover of his book.

"Professor Moody...he — he showed it to me," he responds quietly, like he's telling a big secret.

"Showed what to you?" You're almost reluctant to hear the answer. Something heavy settles in your stomach sickeningly.

The office is silent as Neville breathes heavily. He fiddles with the book again, bounces his leg. It's like you can hear every blink of his eyes, every individual lash brushing against his under-eye. What would Alice say if she seen him like this? She'd be devastated, no doubt. You're here to look after him. Harry and Neville. Both lost their parents, parents who were your best friends. You could never sit by and watch as their sons sit in turmoil, battling something extremely difficult.

"The Cruciatus Curse," Neville breathes.

You blink in confusion. "I'm sorry, what do you mean he showed you the Cruciatus Curse?"

"O-on a spider," he says quietly. "He-he pointed his wand at it and said — "

"Crucio," you whisper, horrified. "Why would he do that?"

You're confused and shocked and horrified. Moody really did that? In front of the students? In front of Neville? He knows exactly who Neville is, he knows exactly who his parents were and what happened to them.

"He — he said we needed to know. That we n-needed to see it to know how to defend it."

You bring your hands up to your face. You've seen the curse performed before, when you were helping Moody track down a dark wizard who'd taken a Muggle hostage, and nothing about it is pretty. It's scarring — it's the kind of thing that lodges itself in your mind, and the image never weakens. The sounds never fade.

Neville hasn't stopped trembling since he walked in here.

"Neville..." you bite your lip, unsure what to say, so you do the only thing you think you can: you stand up from your chair, and hug him. You pull the frail boy into your arms, gently stroking his hair soothingly. You're conscious of the fact that really, Neville's only maternal figure in his life has been his grandmother who — while being a formidable, strong woman — can't hold a candle to the warmth that Alice had. The heart of gold and love that she had — that she still has, somewhere — for her son. He needs you to provide that warmth and support now.

He pulls away to talk again. "My parents...do you think they suffered...? "

"They did, Neville," you say, pulling away but leaving your hands on his shoulders. "They suffered. I'm afraid I can't tell you any different."

Neville's eyes begin to water and he doesn't meet your eyes.

"But," you continue softly, "they were brave, Neville. They were so brave and strong and stood their ground. Anyone else would have ran, fled with their tails between their legs, but not your parents, Neville. And — the people who hurt your parents? They're all in jail. Rotting away in Azkaban, which is an awful fate. Perfectly deserved for the horrible scum that did that to Alice and Frank."

Neville nods slowly, taking a shaky breath. He sits for a few moments, quiet, as he thinks over what you said. Eventually, you feel confident that he looks a bit less shaken, colour returning to his face. He stands up and you give him a sympathetic smile.

"Would you like to stay here for a little longer?" you ask softly, and he shakes his head.

"No, it's okay...I'll get going now."

You nod, patting his shoulder and moving to open the door for him. "Alright." He exits and you follow, locking the door behind you. When he looks back at you in slight confusion, you say, "I'd like to go have a word with Professor Moody."

Moody's office isn't too far from yours. Neville departs off towards the Gryffindor Tower, the time nearing curfew. You knock on the door, waiting impatiently for the door to open. Eventually, you hear hobbling behind the door and it opens a crack.

"Sir!"

You can only see the blue eye, spinning rapidly in its socket. He looks you up and down, scrutinising you.

"What?"

"Look, I just talked to one of your fourth-year students. Is it true you showed them the Cruciatus Curse? That you performed it on a spider?"

Part of you is scared. This is you, standing up to the best, strongest Auror you've ever met. Your mentor. But at the same time you're filled with anger. How could he do that? How could he put that on Neville, and all those other students who had to bear witness to that torture?

Moody doesn't answer. His tongue darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips for just a second, before receding back. That's something you don't think you've seen Moody do before. No, you've definitely not seen him do that.

But you recognise it. You definitely remember being grossed out before by that exact move. He must've just caught it from someone else, after all, they do call him Mad-Eye. He has been known to be somewhat far-gone.

"I'll admit it was an unorthodox way of teaching, but they needed to see it," he answers curtly. "They need to see in order to know how to defend it and resist!"

You shake your head furiously. "There are other ways to show them how to defend themselves! You can't do that. They're children, sir. They shouldn't be coming out of class half traumatised!"

He pulls the door open more, revealing his cracked face. His good eye stares daggers at you and he moves forward, forcing you to take a step back. He leers over you threateningly.

"Don't question me, girl."

You stare back at him, searching his face for any sliver of a joke, but are met with the hard, steel expression of a man who is certainly not joking. The Moody you know would never say that to you. He would never use that threatening tone with you, no matter what you did. Constructive criticism, yeah, a bit of frustration, yeah, but not this. You've never had to feel scared in his presence.

But you do now.

You're suddenly aware of the fact that this is a strong, strong man in front of you. You would never be able to fight him off. Your lip trembles, and embarrassingly, you feel your eyes start to water.

This was your mentor. This was someone who you looked up to so much, and now he's looking at you like some scummy substance he found on the bottom of his boot. You feel hurt. You feel so badly hurt and embarrassed and scared.

Moody continues to stare you down, before grunting and doing that janky tongue movement and slamming his door shut in your face. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and stare at the closed door in front of you.

What do you do? Should you tell someone? None of the other teachers know about that class, otherwise something would have been said. Minerva would already have been banging on your door to talk about it.

Is it worth your while even reporting it? You doubt anyone would care. It's Alastor Moody, famed Auror. Who would they really rather support: you or him? You don't stand a chance against him.

You return to your office that night feeling sick to your stomach. Worries churn your stomach sickeningly and quiet tears drip down your cheeks. You're just so confused. Why would Moody do that to you? He never expressed any dislike for you before, but there it was obvious. You feel so foolish for allowing yourself to think the Mad-Eye Moody cared about you at all.

You feel lonely. You start to just want Sirius here, next to you, so you can talk to him. He always knows what to do. He always knows what to say. You want him to be here and to take you in his arms, stroke your hair soothingly, reassure you.

You just want him here.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

Spring, 1980

Bright, cheerful chatter fills the area, guests milling about and laughter bubbling up out their throats. Beside you, Sirius has his hand on your knee, circling it idly with his thumb as he chats to James beside him. James tells a joke and Sirius lets out a hearty laugh. You watch his face light up in joy, a beautiful smile spreading over his face.

He's so handsome.

His long locks just tickling his neck, the shirt of his suit unbuttoned to show the skin of his chest, his jacket shrugged off and thrown on the back of the chair. The sunlight catches his long lashes, the outline of his face, making him look like something out of a dream.

You glance around at the guests, thinking about what to do next. You take a quick sip from your wine and lean over to Sirius.

"I'm going to go mingle," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He stops talking, turning to you with a loving expression.

"Don't be too long," he says. "I want my wife back as soon as possible."

He kisses your lips softly, smiling, and you pull away to go mingle.

You make a beeline for Alice and Lily immediately, who are chatting animatedly with Remus and Peter.

"Hello, hello!" You greet with a grin and they all smile.

"Well, if it isn't the beautiful bride!" Alice exclaims with a laugh.

Everyone looks absolutely perfect. Alice and Lily in their pretty bridesmaid dresses, Remus and Peter in their groomsmen suits. It's a small enough reception, you could never invite too many with the way things are right now. There are a few Aurors and Order of the Phoenix members dotted around, some looking about the place like they're expecting an attack.

"Where's Frank gone?" You ask Alice. It's rare to see Alice without her dear husband, her husband of two months now. Even now, you can see the way her face lights up at the mention of him.

"Oh, he's just gone to get us some drinks," she says with a smile, looking past you to see a man standing at the drinks table, plucking two glasses out of the lineup and turning around to come towards you.

You throw him a small wave, and he nods back because his hands are full. Beyond him, you catch sight of a man you didn't actually expect to see tonight: Alastor Moody. He's standing beneath a large tree, shaded from the sun by its foliage. He's looking around him suspiciously, like he's afraid someone's going to spot him.

You place a hand on Alice's back, patting it as you say, "I've just spotted someone. If I don't see you leading a conga line when I get back I'll be livid."

She giggles, saluting you jokingly. "Yes, ma'am."

You smile at the group, taking your leave and heading for Moody. He looks up when you approach, his good eye settling on you while the other dances in its socket.

"Sir, you came," you say with a smile. You really are shocked that he actually showed up. You gave him his invitation ages ago, and hadn't mentioned it since. He said nothing of any intentions to come to the wedding.

He nods, glancing around himself furtively like he doesn't want anyone to catch him here. "Yes, well...I'm here just in case something happens of course — in case you have a few unwelcome guests."

"What, like you?" You joke, and you can see how he tries to hide his chuckle, shaking his head gruffly.

"Dark wizards, more like."

He doesn't seem entirely certain of that, however. You can tell that he's not just here for that, but you don't say anything. You're just happy he's here. Nobody would attack your wedding. Maybe because there's Order members here, but something tells you that won't happen. You have such a happy gut feeling, you feel like you're on air today. Nothing could ruin it.

"Well, thank you for coming," you say genuinely. "I really appreciate it."

He glances away from you, seemingly fixating on something in the distance. "I can't have you getting attacked on your wedding day. It would make for a pretty shitty story."

You smile. "Thanks."

You stand together in silence. You glance out at the rest of the party: Alice is, as you instructed, leading a long conga line on the makeshift dance floor, now bathed in evening sunlight. You spot Sirius right behind her, enthusiastically throwing out his leg in time with Alice. You chuckle appreciatively at them.

"You know," Moody starts, and you turn back to him, "when they told me I'd have to take on a student, I thought they'd be a nuisance, getting in the way of my work. But you, I am...I'm glad it was you, and not some clueless thing who doesn't know their left from their right. You're good at this, and you'll be even better when you're finished with me."

Your mouth opens dumbly and you just stare back at him in surprise, before a great big smile spreads over your face. You don't want to say anything to embarrass yourself, so you just smile at him and he looks away, clearing his throat.

"Once you stop giving me cheek, that is," he adds.

You can't help but laugh, before he fixes you with a look and you straighten up again, pursing your lips, holding back any comments.

"Now, it's time you stop bothering me and go back off to the lovesick lad you've left behind," he says, nodding his head in Sirius' direction, who has detached himself from the conga line to beckon you over with a longing gaze. You smile back at him and don't hesitate to hurry towards the fun.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

→→ read chapter eighteen here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

hugs and kisses to all my taglist loves for all their kindness and support:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem @jennifer0305 @idkman5335

[zaebeecee]

Drowning in Stardust

🦌 RadioDustTober: Short Story Edition 🕷️

Day 11: Tangled Web

Alternate Universe (pre-slash)

CWs: None

Some say that when you find yourself in need of advice, there is a spell you can cast to summon a creature who can give you aid. But there is always the same warning: if you accept the help, you will end up caught in a web you can never escape.

Word count: 841

•••

“Don’t be foolish, Alastor. I will heal. You should worry more about yourself.”

How could he possibly make it any more clear to her that this was him worrying about himself?

Alastor knelt in the middle of his bedroom floor, listening carefully for any sounds elsewhere in the house. There was no creaking floorboard, no click of a door… nothing but the gentle breeze outside and the soft chirping of frogs in the bayou. He released a breath and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a scrap of paper and squinting at it.

The symbol he had drawn on the floor looked the same. He had precisely arranged the candles, the moonstone, the rose quartz, the labradorite… the spider lilies in the center of the symbol had been woven together just so, and Alastor withdrew his pocket knife, slicing his palm open and making a tight fist over the flowers to allow six drops of blood to fall onto them.

“I’ve paid your price,” Alastor said into the darkness; the blood on the flowers looked black with nothing but the flickering candles illuminating it. He struck a match and tossed it into the lilies, where the fire caught. “Come forth and obey me.”

Quite suddenly, the gently smoldering flowers caught into a conflagration of bright white fire, tinged with pink; Alastor barely had time to push himself back a foot before it abruptly went out and took the light of the candles with it. Alastor’s vision gave out as he was bathed in darkness, and he lowered his hand from his face to peer into the darkness before him. There was a shape there, something that hadn’t been there before; it looked almost human, but perhaps not quite.

“…who’s there?” Alastor asked, prepared to shove himself to his feet to put himself over the stranger.

“Who’s there?” a high tenor voice, thick with a Brooklyn accent, asked incredulously. “Don’t try to make me think you did this by accident, dumbass.”

“What—?!” Alastor’s voice cut off in a soft gasp as he saw eyes open in the dark, staring at him. They were glowing magenta, and there were eight of them, and they all seemed to be staring at him.

The creature made a sound like an amused snort. “Fuck’s sake, you’re a baby.”

Any awe or fear Alastor might have felt evaporated to be replaced with indignation. “I am twenty-five.”

“S’what I said,” the creature said with a shrug, apparently completely unconcerned.

“I called you for a reason,” Alastor said. “If you aren’t going to be helpful, I might as well dismiss you.”

“Okay, okay, calm your tits. So… whaddya want? I can’t do magic, so if that’s what you’re after, you got the wrong demon.”

“No, nothing like that,” Alastor said. He sank back into a crouch on the floor, clenching his fists on his knees. “It’s my mother. She’s sick.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that, but I ain’t a healer neither,” the demon said.

“I’m not— just— shut up,” Alastor said, holding his hand up. “I’m not asking you to heal her. I believe she’s being poisoned, but I can’t find out by whom or any proof that it’s happening, so I can’t do anything about it.”

The demon blinked. “Ohhh,” it said. “And you’re wantin’ me to figure out what’s happenin’ to her, is that it? Want me to kill ‘em too?”

“No. I just want to know who it is.” Alastor narrowed his eyes. “I can kill them myself.”

That gave the demon pause. “…what’s your name?”

“Alastor.”

“Well, Alastor, I can do that for you, but I’m guessin’ you already know it ain’t gonna be free.”

Alastor nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m aware. What do you want, my soul?”

The creature snickered. “Is this information worth your soul to you?”

“Yes.”

His immediate answer, his lack of hesitation, gave the demon pause. It didn’t laugh when it spoke again. “…if you’re offerin’ me your soul, sure. I’ll do it for that. You’d better be positive that’s what you want, though. I ain’t givin’ it back to you.”

Alastor smirked. “I’ll worry about you later on.”

When the demon smiled, Alastor saw a flash of sharp teeth. “Is that so? Ain’t you a feisty one. Gimme your hand so we can shake on it; ain’t a deal otherwise.”

Alastor didn’t relish the thought of touching this demon, but he held his hand out resolutely, waiting. The hand that slipped into his was much different than he expected. It was smaller than he imagined a demon’s hand would be, considerably softer, and so very… delicate. The demon’s other hand cupped the back of Alastor’s, holding him in place without force.

“Well then, Alastor,” the demon said as pale pink light began to surround their hands. He felt another touch, two more hands cupping his face, and jumped as he realized those magenta eyes were suddenly mere inches from him. “My name is Angel Dust. Hope you’re ready for fun, baby, because we’re gonna be seein’ a lot of each other.”

•••

[doveatheart]

A Toast~

Alastor x g!n Reader

A/n: Yayyyyyy. I have so much drama coming.

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, mention of Drugs, mentions of death

Part one Part two Part three *already here!*

-{------------------------------------------------------------------------}-

-{------------------------------------------------------------------------}-

To your surprise, Charlie is very welcoming. Which is a nice change from all the bitches in hell. “Okay (Y/N), this is your room. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call me. The library is one floor down, breakfast is at 8:00 AM but the kitchen is open at all times. Okay byeeeeeee.” Charlie explained. She then hopped down the hall. Okay… You take the key she handed you, and fumble to unlock the door. When you finally did, it was red.

“Ugh. This is appalling.” You said disgusted.

You snapped your fingers and changed the red scheme to (F/C).

“Ahhh. Much better.” You say sighing and flopping down on your bed.

“Glad you like it dear.” You jumped. “Haha. How jumpy you are darling.”

“Fuck Alastor. You scared me.” You said standing up.

Sure, he intimidated you, and yes, he scared the life out of you, but you didn’t say anything more to get on his bad side. We do not want to anger the crazy cannibal today folks.

“My dear I’m here to see if your accommodations fit your preference, but I see you’ve already taken that into your own hands.” He said twirling his staff. “I must say my dear, even though I do not care for such a color, you have made it look stunning.” He looked around with a fake smile, taking in every detail.

“Thank you Alastor.” You say happily. “Red is not my color I must admit, and I see (f/c) much more pleasing.”

“And I do not blame you, Cher. Oh how forgetful I am, Charlie needs some assistance downstairs. I won’t keep you from her.” And with that, he poofed. You blinked, trying to take in what just happened.

Why did he come in here. Man, for being a gentleman, he doesn’t care to knock much does he…

You snap yourself downstairs. Charlie obviously didn’t expect you to do that and she jumped.

“Oh (Y/N)! I need to talk to you about our contract.” Charlie exclaimed, wiping away her confused face for an excited one.

-{————————————————————————————————}-

You just finished the contract with Charlie. It stated that you may work and protect the hotel but leave the cause whenever you please. Pretty simple. You sighed and stood up from the chair, a small grunt emitting your lips because you were sitting to long. You looked out the intricate stained glass windows into the dark red sky. You could only assume it was night time.

“Charlotte, I must retreat to my bedroom for the evening. Though it was lovely spending time with you and Vaggie.” You politely excused yourself and walked out of the room into the lobby.

In the lobby sat Angel, Husk, and surprisingly Alastor at the bar. Nifty was somewhat close, running around with a knife. You laughed at the neat freak though you loved her so much.

“Ah, heya (N/N)! Why not come have’a drink with us!” Angel then beckoned you over. You smiled and walked over. When you arrived at the bar, Husk gave a grunt and Alastor looked up from his glass with a lost expression.

Shit, he looks scary when he’s not smiling. You curse to yourself and sit down next to the red deer.

“(Y/N). Lovely to see you, dear.” Alastor says. He lifts the drink to his lips and takes a sip. You turn to Husk. “(F/D) please, Kitty.” You ask. You then focus your attention on Angel and the conversation he’s having.

“And then he says, ‘Now you have to come in the whole week and work double time’! What an asshole.” Angel then mumbles every curse word in the book.

You turn your head when you hear the clink of your drink hitting the counter lightly. You mumble a thanks to Husk. You take a hesitant sip, savoring the taste. You hum happily. You never drank much (down here) but when you did, oh did it taste good! You continue to eavesdrop on the conversation between the spider and the bartender, making comments every now and then.

“I have something nagging in the back of my head dear, if you’ll allow me to ask?” Alastor turned getting bored of Angels constant talking.

“I will answer it to the best of my ability.” You took a sip of your drink and directed your attention to the deer.

“Why are you hiding your powers?” He asked bluntly.

You almost spit out your drink. You gulped your beverage and looked at him. He had a smug smile, obviously entertained by your reaction.

You coughed. “Whatever do you mean Alastor?” You asked, playing dumb.

“I’m sure you know what I’m talking about perfectly, Dear.” He is gaze went forward, then dropped to his drink.

You sighed. “I- I don’t want to scare Charlie. I mean, I love when people cower in fear when I’m around, but the poor girl would be heartbroken about what I’ve done and what I can do.”

“Interesting, one more question, Darling.” He looked to you for approval.

You nodded and finished off your drink.

“What did you do to get down here.” He asked, his voice laced with intrigue.

“HEY EVERYONE!” You heard Charlie yell from the couch. “HOTEL MEETING!”

Everyone at the bar walked over. You took a seat on a surprisingly comfy armchair.

“Okay everyone, since (Y/N) has joined the hotel staff I was think we could do a get to know each other. Saying how we all died. Angel you go first.” Charlie babbled.

“Drug overdose.” Angel said pulling out his phone, detaching from the conversation.

“Husk?”

“Murdered.” Husk grumbled.

“Alastor?” Charlie continues.

“No thanks, Princess.” He said dismissing her.

“Uhhhhh, that’s okay Alastor. (Y/N)?” Charlie turns to you, and everyone follows.

“Poisoned by my Ex.” You say, your voice dripping with poison by mentioning that back stabber.

“Oh- I’m sorry (Y/N). That must be hard.” Charlie says taking your hands in hers.

“Damn toots.” Angel says putting down his phone.

Everyone looks at you with pity. You despise being seen as weak and vulnerable. You HATE it.

“How did you end up here?” Angel asked.

“Is it not obvious?” You said pointing to your cane. Then It clicked.

“How many people did you kill?” Angel asks further.

“Uhm- just a sec…” you pause. You killed a lot of people. “Maybe… 500?” Charlie gasped.

“Shit.” Angel says

You turn your body to Charlie.

“I told you, I don’t deserve to be reedemed. I killed for fun, for the rush. I killed innocent people.”

“How old were you when you died again?” Husk grumbles.

“Almost thirty.” You say.

“You were badass!” Angel says.

“Did you know any bad boys?” Nifty suddenly pops up behind you. “I like bad boys…” Nifty cackles.

“Sorry Nifty. I got to them first.” You say. Nifty then hops off uninterested. You chuckle.

“I think it’s time for me to retire to my bedroom. Goodnight everyone.” You sit up and turn to exit.

“ Night!” They reply back.

This will be one interesting experience…

~{—————————————————————————————————}~

A/n- Ahhhhh it’s done! Dang, you are badass though. I’ll try to continue as fast as I can but I also have my Wattpad story. If you wanna check it out then click here . Thank you!

Tag list- Nonexistent🤣

[maladaptiveobsession]

Hi! Wellcome to my blog! Below I will introduce myself and discuss my boundaries. You can find my masterlist at the bottom of this post.

Introduction —

Please call me Mal!

My pronouns are xe/xem or she/him.

I’m genderqueer, agenderflux, and electio aroace.

I’m currently writing for hazbin hotel, degrees of lewdity, baki the grappler, and slashers.

My blog contains immensely dark, nsfw themes; all works tagged appropriately. Please exercise your right to block my page if my content makes you uncomfortable. I am not accountable for your comfort nor will I entertain hostility.

Boundaries —

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; MDNI

Please state your age in your bio before interacting! You will be blocked if otherwise. If you aren’t comfortable stating your precise age, please at least somehow indicate that you are old enough to interact with adult content. That being said, I have neither the time nor energy to confirm the age of every blog that interacts.

Below are my kink request guidelines. If your kink is listed under the “not happening” or “may consider” section, it’s not because I care what content you consume, rather because I either have no desire to interact with it or I am simply not confident writing for it. Assume all unmentioned kinks are on the table until otherwise specified.

Content I strictly will not write for:

age play

age/animal regression

beastiality/zoophilia

chasity

cuckholding/cheating

diapering

eproctophilia

scat

underaged characters

vore

Content I may consider writing for on a case by case basis:

a/b/o dynamics

cannibalism

emetophilia

foot play/worship

force feeding

forced feminization/sissification

incest

lactation

moresome/orgy

mutilation/gore/guro

necrophilia

pet play

psuedo-incest

tentacles

tickling

watersports

Content I will happily write for:

age difference

breeding/impregnation

dacryphilia

dubcon

knife play

manhandling

noncon

omorashi

overstimulation/forced orgasm

period play/blood play

play fighting/wrestling

praise

purity kink/deflowering

sadomasochism

size difference

somnophilia

sounding

stuckage

teratophilia

threesome/foursome

voice kink

yandere

Masterlist —

🔞: nsfw

🧷: sfw/mostly sfw

Baki the Grappeler

Kiyosumi Katou period headcanons [🔞/🧷]

“Titfucking” — 2023 kinktober day 2 with Baki Hanma. [🔞]

“Teratophilia” — 2023 kinktober with naga!Katsumi Orochi. [🔞]

Degrees of Lewdity

“Pegging” — 2023 kinktober day 1 with Kylar. [🔞]

“Boot worship” — 2023 kinktober day 3 with Sydney.[🔞]

“Robin’s shocking discovery” — Robin finds the porn you drew of him. [🔞]

“Leighton’s delight” — Leighton discovers the porn you wrote of him. [🧷]

“Too little, too late” pt. 1 — LIs react to the player’s suicide. [🧷]

“Too little, too late” pt.2 — Bailey reacts to the player’s suicide [🧷]

“Magic Pocket Pussy” — The NPCs acquire a magical pocket pussy synced to the player. [🔞]

“Pubic Thoughts” — How the LIs prefer the player’s pubes to be. [🔞]

“That cute guy is kissing me!” — The player doesn’t recognize their Alex, Eden, or Bailey while intoxicated, but still finds them attractive. [🧷]

“Remy’s runt” — Yandere!Remy becomes infatuated with his littlest, mot obedient cow/bull. [🔞]

“Bloody Pussy” — How each DOL LI feels about period sex. [🔞]

DOL kink scale — How kinky are the DOL characters? [🧷]

“Your body was always mine” — You owe bailey, but are short on cash. He takes your virginity as payment. [🔞]

“Jealousy and isolation” — How the yandere DOL NPCs might isolate the player. [🧷]

“Pussy Munching” — How much do the DOL NPCs like eating pussy? Do they prefer to give or receive head? [🔞]

Hazbin Hotel

Yandere Vox headcanons [🧷]

Yandere Valentino headcanons [🔞]

Yandere Valentino/reader/Angel Dust [🔞]

Yandere Alastor headcanons [🔞]

Yandere Adam headcanons [🧷]

Yandere Charlie headcanons 🧷]

“Safe and sound” — yandere!Charlie/reader [🧷]

Slashers

“Misunderstanding” — yandere!Rusty Nail x reader [🔞]

[angst-king]

Corruption of Humanity Pt 9 ((it took me way too long to edit this bc Tumblr's being a dick n such. Anyways CW description of Gorey drawings, holy water torture/burning, and nightmares) Ever since Emily had fallen asleep in Lucifer’s room, Lucifer started acting differently. He was a little more docile, they fought less, he didn’t mess with her as much. Emily didn’t know if it was because she was trying out new snacks with him and was liking it or if she had done something. But a win was a win. The awful dreams and hallucinations were an off-and-on situation, they didn’t come every day or night.

Coming into work today she had a bad feeling, especially when she was given a new patient. Well the patient herself wasn’t new to the facility just new to Emily. Her name was Nifty according to her charts she was a fairy or pixie of some sort. Walking to Nifty’s room while reading her charts, Emily couldn’t help but feel bad. She often remembered that many of these patients used to be innocent humans who lived normal everyday lives and were brought here and turned into monsters. She had seen Nifty during group time, and she often clung to Alastor or Husk.

After her usual check-ins with Charlie and Vaggie, she went to find Nifty’s room. It was just down the hall thankfully. Approaching her room, she looked through the one-way glass to see Nifty fiddling with something in her hands. When she opened the door she was stunned to see Nifty had her hands on a butterfly knife!

“Nifty what’s that?!” She exclaimed hurrying into the room to try and take it from them. Nifty’s wings appears and she flew above her.

“Its mine, Husk gave it to me.” Nifty said holding the weapon close to her chest. Emily ducked and dodged the flying girl above her still worried about her having a weapon. Why would Husk give her a weapon, was it for self defense? She could seriously hurt herself!

“Plus the knife is round, see! See!” Nifty waved the blade around in Emily’s face to show her in an almost childish manner. Emily managed to grab it to examine it, and she was right the blade was thick and rounded off it wouldn’t be able to do much damage to a person. She sighed in relief upon seeing it.

“Okay okay since Husk gave it to you, I guess you can keep it.” She relented and handed Nifty back the weapon and watched her play with it. Examining Nifty wasn’t too hard, she was hyper but giving her something to play with made it easier. She wasn’t combatic but she was sporadic and curious about everything.

“Do i get to see Al today!?” “Hm? I don’t think so, sorry Nifty.” Nifty frowned momentarily but it quickly changed into a smile, she hopped off her bed and grabbed a book, a coloring book. She began proudly showing her drawings and doodles to her, and to say they were weird was an understatement. They were utterly disturbing! There were drawings of dismembered bodies, guts spilling from people’s stomachs. People were hanging from the ceilings, people strapped to tables. They were so detailed too even for being scribbles and doodles! She could see that some of these people were people from the facility both patients and staff. Luckily she didn’t see herself in any of these gruesome depictions.

After her check in with Nifty and a long swig from Husk’s flask she was headed up to Lucifer’s room. As she headed up to the upper levels one a dark skin woman with red hair came over.

“You’re #0001’s handler, right?” She asked, the woman had a strong british accent and a snooty attitude.

“Yes, I am, why?” “Vox needs him prepped for an experiment in 15 minutes, bring him down to the experiment theater and the assistants will take care of the rest.” She instructed sharply and turned on her heel hardly giving Emily the chance to question her. Great she was just getting Lucifer to open up and now she had to take him to get experimented on, hopefully, it wouldn’t be anything too painful or invasive….

“Lucifer, um I know you’re not gonna like this and I’m so sorry but, I’ve been ordered to take you down to see Vox for an experiment.” As soon as the words left her mouth she expected Lucifer to throw a fit but all he did was look at her in fear. He curled up into a ball, his tail wrapping around himself tightly.

She somehow managed to get Lucifer to go with her, she didn’t know how much he followed her wordlessly. The feeling of fear poured from him as he trailed beside her. Arriving near the entrance fo the experiment rooms, they met up with an assistant of Vox’s who took Lucifer.

“We have everything handled from here, we will let you know once it is over.” Walking towards the door being pulled along by restraints Lucifer shot Emily a scared look. He looked like a dog that knew he was going to get beaten.

“Wa-wait! Can I watch?” The assistant seemed annoyed by this but shrugged and waved for her to follow. She couldn’t lave Lucifer, she wanted to make sure he knew she would be there even if all she could do was watch it was better than not being there at all.

Following them back into the experiment room, she found herself back behind the spectator glass, and Vox seemed pleased. A wide sadistic grin spread across his face in a deranged way.

“Great great you brought up the subject, why don’t we get this started where we left off, shall we?” Vox clapped and nodded at the assistants through the glass to cue them. Lucifer was first strapped down to a chair and a set of numbers were projected onto a screen. Lucifer was instructed to read them off. Each time he messed up they sprayed him and he screamed. His body clenched and writhed as he howled and hissed in pain. This water burned when it touched his skin! It felt like his body was catching on fire, burning and singing into his flesh, it made reading the numbers difficult but he was forced to continue. He was sprayed with a hose of sorts that an assistant would unleash a powerful blast of what seemed like water.

“1, 3,7, 9-I mean 6 AH!” A stream of water blasted right to his chest, the burning spread through his torse and into his muscles as he screamed and thrashed. Wriggling and writhing to get out of the restraints he cried in agony. His heart was pounding in his ears and his mind racing to focus in hopes of keeping from getting sprayed. He trembled and shook, his muscles contracting and twitching, you could see the burns starting to form, they were already turning from 1st degree to second. He gasped and sputtered between his cries, the smell of his flesh burning made his eyes water. His skin was usually a dingy creamy white turning a pinkish red as the layer was being burned away. They dried, cracked, and swelled. Some parts of his body quickly formed welts and divots. Many of his old wounds were reopening. His chest felt tight from the fear and burns, and this was only the beginning. The burns were beginning to bleed, and a golden blood-like substance poured and leaked from his injuries. The pain only grew worse as the water dripped down to his lap and sides

He coughed and choked on the smell of his burning flesh, making his stomach slosh nauseously. He struggled even to speak by now his words stammering out too much to say the numbers properly prompting him to be sprayed again. The pain was almost blinding, the mouth guard didn’t protect the upper half of his face from the splashback of this supposed water.

Emily cringed at the sound of her patient’s screams, they were almost as bad as Charlie’s. She could see Lucifer trying to hold back, forcing himself to complete the task. She saw the way he quivered and jolted with each spray of water. It horrified her to see him be hurt like this, she wanted them to stop she wanted to race in there and stop them. She wanted to shield him from whatever they were doing to him. She wanted to come and hold him and tell him it was over. But she was frozen, feet stuck in place no matter how much she tried to tell herself to move to get to him to save him! All she could do was listen to his screams and watch his skin be turned off and blood pool onto the floor. She watched as they collected his tears and blood into bottles for god knows what.

“I’m glad I thought of this holy water experiment, this is way too much fun!” Vox said with a chuckle as he watched enthusiastically. Standing on his toes with his wide smile and sharp blue eyes fixated on the scene in front of him. It was like he thrived on watching them suffer as if he fed on their screams. He looked like he’d cream his pants if he heard Lucifer cry!

By the time it was done, it had been maybe and hour and thirty minutes. They did injections and blood leading to collect more blood from Lucifer, Emily was tooo horrified to ask why they did it and hastily raced to get to Lucifer once the door was unlocked. In the blinding room, she raced to Lucifer’s side, unstrapping him from the chair and carefully picking him up. Doing her best not to touch any of his injuries, she carried him out. Lucifer was in so much pain he went unconscious, she could still feel his muscles twitching and spasming under her touch. She asked for Eve to come and help her take care of him, as Emily was unsure of what to do.

“Oh shit what happened to him?!” Eve asked alarmed by the sight of him.

“Vox had a not so fun experiment to do on him with holy water.” Eve’s eyes went wide and she guided Emily by the shoulders.

“Come on we gotta wash it off him, he looks horrible!” Emily followed her down the hall and into a shower room, she had Lucifer sit on a shower chair and they started washing the holy water and blood off of him. Emily held his limp body up to keep him from falling over as Eve gingerly used a cloth to get the blood and holy water off of him. You’d think with him still being somewhat of an angel he would be immune to holy water, sadly that wasn’t the case. He was already forming welts and large parts of deep skin layers were exposed. His skin was heavily discolored in certain places, and his chest was the worst. They were 2nd boarding on 3-degree burns from his neck down to his thighs, his chest up to his neck were still bleeding while some of his wounds had stopped.

“He has the ability to heal himself but without proper nutrients he can’t do it well enough or at all.” Eve stated, she worried about being able to get him enough to eat to even start that process. They couldn’t get the mouth guard off him, they had no clue where the key was. Emily then had an idea.

“I’ve got an idea but he’s not gonna like it, we have feeding tube here right?”

“Yeah we do, that and the supplements are in the food stock room why?”

“Well we’re gonna have to wake him up to do it but, we let him rest for a little while, dress his wound and when he wakes up we put in a feeding tube.” Eve pursed her lips in a line and looked down at Lucifer.

“Its the only choice we have, huh?”

“Yeah, and I know how to take care of feeding tubes, my sister had one growing up and I took care of it alot for her while our parents were busy.”

“Alright, we’ll give him some injectable pain meds and sedate him for a bit, and let him sleep once his wounds are taken care of.” It took some work but they managed to clean him up stop the bleeding the best they could and bandage him up. Eve went down to the pharmacy for pain and sleeping medications while Emily took Lucifer up to his room.

They let him sleep for a few hours while Emily went back to check on her other patients.

When Lucifer woke up he was numb, he could hardly feel a thing both emotionally and physically. He remembered what happened but he couldn’t muster a feeling, and it was probably for the best. His body felt heavy as if it weighed 1000 pounds, nothing around him felt real. His arms shook when he lifted them, he saw they were wrapped in loose bandages as was the rest of him. He didn’t pull at them he just laid back down. He was just glad it was over, and that he wasn’t in any pain. His ears twitched at the muffled sounds of voices outside his room. He lazily turned his head and of course, he could only see vague figures. Then they moved out of sight and the door’s knob jingled and the door opened. Oh, it was Emily and Eve, how nice.

“Oh! Good, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” Asked Eve quietly, Lucifer shrugged and only whined when he tried to speak. The poor guy screamed so much he could hardly speak, only hoarse whistles and whimpers came from his strained vocal cords.

“Oh, hun I’m so sorry about the experiment I really wish this didn’t do such harsh things to you.” “I wish I could have stopped them” Emily apologized sympathetically, Lucifer just looked up at her, she expected him to be angry with her but he just looked empty and hurt.

“Alright well, we’re gonna have to do something you won't like. Its gonna be a bit uncomfortable and painful but not as bad as the experiment.” Eve explained the procedure the two women would need to do on Lucifer and he wasn’t pleased by it. He didn’t want to hurt anymore, he just wanted to sleep.

“I promise we will let you sleep once this is done, we just want to make sure you get enough nutrition so you can heal yourself. We even got your favorite juice to make it easier, and you can still drink it with the tube.” Lucifer knew he didn’t have a choice and this was the lesser of two evils so he forced himself to sit up. He hated this he hated this so much, even if his feelings were muted he still didn’t like this one bit but he had no energy to even cry at them. He was too dehydrated and weak to cry or express his discomfort. We the tube went down Emily interlaced her hand with his whispering gentle encouragements.

“You’re doing good Lucifer” “I’m so proud of you” “Good job, we’re almost done” “Once it's over you can sleep as much as you want” “When you get better I’ll give you all the peanut butter crackers you could ask for.” “I know it's uncomfortable but I’m right here, just squeeze my hand” It had been so long since anyone had been so gentle with him. She would say the same things Lilith would say to him when he had to go through rough experiments and trials. She held him like this when he was in pain, she did all of this. Just like Lilith, he missed Lilith in times like these. He missed her kisses, her reading and singing voice, and how she would cuddle him to sleep. He missed the cut-up apples she would give him. His daughter was the closest thing he would ever get and deep down. He knew Emily was his ticket to see her.

Feebeling nuzzling his cheek into Emily’s shoulder to show he appreciated her presence. Lucifer couldn’t help but still with for Lilith. When they finished they laid him back down to rest and he fell back to sleep only moments after his eyes had shut.

“Lucifer!” “Hmm? Lucifer hummed tiredly eyes fluttering open and being met by the sight of Lilith beside him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, Lilith his dear Lilith sitting beside him, the soft cooing of a small creature came beside him. He looked to see Lilith holding an infant wrapped in a blanket. The infant looked similar to him, it was Charlie.

“Would you like to hold her?” Asked Lilith, Lucifer nodded and held his arms out to take the newborn. Lilith cradled the infant in his arms and made sure she was secure. Lucifer looked down at Charlie, her eyes still closed as she whined softly, her small arms flailing and tiny feet kicking. Her tail flopped lazily over her tummy. She had his rosy cheese and pale skin, and she had the most adorable button-like nose. He leaned down and nuzzled his face against her making a softly gentle noise that seemed to make her giggle. His heart was doing backflips as he held his daughter. He stayed cuddled up to Lilith’s frame as he held their daughter both of them admiring her features. However each time he went from looking at Charlie to Lilith, something about Lilith would change. First, it was her eyes, they changed to a dark violet color versus light purple. The second time he looked back at her her eyes were normal but she had grown small fangs and was much taller, third time she had large horny pushing through the hair on her head!

“Hand over the baby!” A voice commanded, suddenly they were surrounded by multiple people, some wielding weapons and others holding restraints. Quickly Lucifer put charlie back into Lilith’s arms and stood between her and the others, his tail whipping around sharply as he glared mecaningly at them bearing his teeth in a snarl.

“Come on now Lucifer, no need to worry if you cooperate things will alright.” One of the people spoke but he didn’t trust them he never did, they always lied to him!

“No.” He said firmly

“Get out. Of the. way. 0001.” A firmer voice demanded, but again Lucifer refused. A small group of them tried to rush in and separate them. Lucifer hissed and screamed and flashed his wings open in an attempt to shield Lilith telling her to run! But to his horror they were cornered there was nowhere to run! The staff were closing in on them making them feel smaller and smaller, the air was growing thin and icy, syringes at the ready.

“Lucifer please no! No!” Lilith cried out, Lucifer looked back to see them grabbing at Charlie, he watched Lilith kick and struggle to fend them off from taking their baby. Her horns grew large, her eyes darkening and her height growing. Anger welled up inside him, not again no one would take his family from him! Not again! He would not go down without a fight! Not again he would not let them harm Charlie! Not again! His body moved on its own and he wailed clawed fists into their faces, slashing his claws at their throats.

“NOW!” God commanded and an arrow struck through his center.

[bloodnikki]

Flashback scene of Alastor's first meeting of Esme. A scene from Broadcasting chapter 2 that I'm still working on

In the year 1927, a young man stood before the corpse of his third victim. He wondered how murder could be so easy. It was strange. All the books and literally that talked about death made the act seem awful. It was something that drove people mad. Yet, it made him full whole. Like, he was acting with purpose, a calling deep within. Besides, this man deserved to die. 

They both have been killers, but this young man, Thomas A. Leblanc wasn’t anything like his victim. For one, Thomas didn’t kill young ladies. He only killed men that deserved to die. Two, he didn’t kill only for the thrill. He made sure that the death didn’t go to waste. He had been raised better than that. Good meat was never to be wasted. He wondered if this was enough to be accepted by the club. It would be nice to meet like minded people. He didn’t want to go his whole life doing it all alone, but he would if he had to.

“Ugh,” He heard a voice cry out from the back of the room. Strange. He had been sure no one was here. He picked up the knife from the floor and carefully tried to find the course of the sound. “I did it? I did it. I did it.” The womanly voice repeated with increasing joy. It unnerved him how happy she sounded. He peaked around a corner to find a woman clawing her way out of the dirt. She was giggling to herself as though deeply amused. “I did it. I did it. I speak. I breathe.” She cried out as climbed out of the makeshift grave. “I feel. Dirt. This is dirt and earth.” She leaned down to smell the ground before finally freeing herself from the ground.

“The sky.” She looked up in awe. It was a cloudy night but she still found it beautiful. “This is how they see? Interesting.” 

She limped forward as she studied the dark sky. Her legs gave out from under her and she realized she didn’t know how to move. Thomas wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. Was she insane? Was this from trauma? She must have been a victim of the man he just killed. This wasn’t good. 

“Hello?” She paused to laugh. “Hello?” She touched her throat with joyous amazement. “I’m speaking. I’m speaking like them.” He could hear her mutter to herself. “Do not be afraid. I will not harm you. I am a friend. I am kind. I am good.” She assured him. Confused, she looked around. This wasn’t anything like she imagined. “Please, come out.” She scanned the area and found no one was coming forward. “Please… please, I… I came… I came so far…” Her check felt wet. She touched them to find tears. “Is this… what sadness is?” She questioned the cold night.

“I…” Thomas couldn’t understand it. He was moving towards her. “Just a moment.” He tossed his knife to the side and quickly stood before her. “Are you hurt?”

“I… hurt?” She frowned. “This body seems well enough. “Alastor?”

“I don’t know that name.” Thomas informed her. “Is that a friend of yours? Is he here with you?”

“You.” She pointed at him. “I thought that was your name. I came here for you. I see you in mama’s tree and I-”

“Have you hit your head?” He took hold of her face to look her over. “I can’t see anything, but a few cuts. Still, we should get you to a doctor.”

“Cuts?”

“The wounds on you? Where you are bleeding?” He sighed. She must have hit her head pretty badly. She looked at the areas. She placed a hand over one of the cuts and her hand started to glow. Thomas marveled at the sight.

“There. Is it fixed now?” She pushed her body closer to him. She wanted him to tell her if she had done it right. The man fixed his glasses before looking over her shoulder. It seemed that the flesh was as good as new. “Is it better? Did I fix it? I haven’t been near a human body in ages and ages. It’s good, right? What’s wrong? Why do you look like that?”

Thomas stood up and realized that she wasn’t a normal woman. Magic.

[staticgcne]

on the subject of core sins. thanks to talks with salt / @radiiosugars

alastor, or mine, anyway, suffers primarily within the sin of pride. it makes perfect sense given the way mine especially grew up, learning everything from his father, && then essentially being tasked with saving him from prosecution. alastor has a lot of pride centered around his capabilities, his self - confidence. his belief in any god does not come down to a true reverence, rather a belief that they work with him out of mutual respect, as i write alastor essentially as a pagan. he has a bit of a misguided god - complex, not necessarily that he is better, but as good.

he killed his father purely out of a sense of duty, a prideful act done, in his mind, to spare the man && take over what he was doing. he has a strong belief that he did what was right, && though now he would scorn his father's name, he knows well that he did what he found to be appropriate && would never claim he had made the wrong choice.

he is stubborn, unwavering in most opinions, && self - centered. if he knew what solipsism was, he would probably agree that it was true, though he doesn't necessarily fall so black && white into it as much as he would just think it made sense. he prefers to be in control, always, && when he is not, it's a problem. his smile is for control, his contracts are for control, the fact that he is contracted is of course a direct clash to his pride && any reminder of it will set him off.

he will always flee a situation that is too dicey, he has no desire to die for nothing. even if it were to be a temporary death.

[voxxisms]

     KNIFE  SLICED  through him,  leaving Alastor to suck breath in through his teeth,  smile gritted  &&  tightened against the pain.  It was so far from unfamiliar,  a feeling he might have relished in if this were any other time,  any other person, but especially any other weapon.  Static sounded from his staff,  unwilling to express that pain in any other way save for the way his lips curved,  the way his grin strained.  His alternate,  as Alex so eloquently referred to them,  may have been willing to drop his act,  but he certainly would not.  Not before Vox,  of all people,  of course not.  A laugh emitted then,  fueled by the blood that pooled  &&  dripped around the blade left in his body.  He did not bother to take it,  no,  there was yet another produce,  replacing the original placing of the other.  The burning in his body was addictive,  nearly,  but he would not get much time to enjoy.  

     The wound in his shoulder would heal with time  &&  patience,  neither of which he particularly enjoyed,  but it would do.  He would have to take his leave,  it appeared,  &&  what a shame that was.  

        ❝  I can certainly appreciate the enthusiasm,  dear Alastor,  but I appear to have a meeting elsewhere!  I'll be taking this little gift with me.  ❞    Shadows melted away,  taking Alastor with them,  drifting along the walls to rapidly reform behind Vox,  behind Alexander,  too.  Only in shadow form,  looming over the Media Overlord,  dark fingers carressing the sides of his rectangular display.  Inducing a shudder from him,  in spite of himself,  it seemed,  a dark laugh coming from the radio demon.    ❝  I am sure I will catch up again very soon,  Vox.  Perhaps next time without your precious little guard dog.  But then,  you always did need our protection,  didn't you?  ❞

And with that,  the shadows pulled away,  slipping under cracks  &&  lines in the floor to leave the two alone.

vox could breathe again.

     he was shivering slightly,  he realised.  there was something in that alastor,  something in him that was awe - inducing,  but put just as much fear into his heart.  not fear of him,  but fear of messing it up.  of failing,  of falling short,  even worse than with anyone else.  it was  ...  horrid.  there was blood on his floor now,  from the incident that had just occurred,  but at least his floors were easy to clean.

        ❝  i'm sorry about that.  ❞    an apology spoken very quickly,  the moment he realised he hadn't yet.    ❝  he is  ...  a lot.  i can't stop him from intruding or i would.  i'll do what i can to keep him away in the future,  from you.  i didn't think he would be so antagonistic.  ❞

     he spoke as though he had invited him over,  which he had most certainly not done at all,  but it felt much easier to take on the blame for such an encounter,  considering he appeared to be at the epicenter of it to begin with.

✘ - Alexander pressed further into him, lowering the knife only to stab it through his alternate's shoulder, all the way to the hilt, until it was sticking out on the other side. He twisted the blade, slowly. This one was making him angry- but he was normally angry wasn't he.

" You would not be the first alternate of myself that I would have killed, and you certainly won't be the last.." Tone dripping with poison. Fully prepared to kill him on the spot. The denial that the other had clearly drowned himself in was irritating because it reminded him of how he used to be and while he also might be.. in some denial at least he had come this far. He summoned another knife, that one now, against his throat.

His eyes narrowed, the static hissed and snared angrily. Sharp pops and strained noises in it. "You're in denial and I know there's nothing I can do to get you to admit it but--- you should know that I know. "

✘ - Vox shouldn't worry about him, he should worry about this one, because clearly, he was set to kill him. " Vox. " Alexander addressed him but didn't look at him, his gaze focused on his alternate, staring at him as if he were staring through him to the back of his skull. " Watch closely." It was vague- he didn't elaborate on what he should be watching for but he wanted to see him kill this one. The audacity he had to prattle on and on about how he didn't care... bullshit.

Alex pressed his forehead against the other, the blade to his neck, threatening to break the skin. " I mean what I said, you're going to die. "

[missblissy]

Hullo, I just discovered your content and man oh man, I am HERE for it. I was wondering if you could do something with Alastor fancying a new worker (who secretly fancies him as well) at the hotel that ALWAYS has headphones on, grinning, dancing and singing along to their tunes while they work. But, in honour of Freddie Mercury’s B-Day and MY favourite band, the new worker accidentally gets so lost in their singing and dancing that they inadvertently serenade Alastor with the song Radio Ga Ga. Thank you in advance. ☺️

((No problem Nonny~!! I had a lot of fun playing around with this one!! I'm sorry for the wait I know a lot of time as passed since then but I hope this makes up for it :'D ENJOY!!))

You had only started working at the... Happy? Happy Hotel? Yeah... Whatever, you had only been there for a week. Your job was simple, you were the hotel's private cook for its tenants. This place didn't feel like a hotel at all. You've worked at one before. It felt more like a sorry attempt at a rehab center. But that didn't really affect you at the end of your day. You simply just cooked food, and you were good at it.

The nicest part about your job was that you pretty much stayed in the kitchen, out of sight, and left to yourself. You were the only cook they needed. You'd often wear headphones and sing to yourself as you'd work tirelessly over a meal. You would also dance while you cleaned, jamming out to whatever song came out of the shuffled playlist.

You were lost in doing a little dance and wiping down a counter. In fact, you were so lost in your task that you didn't notice someone come into the kitchen. Very rarely did this happen so you never really looked out for people coming in. That and... They were behind you.

With your headphones in you also couldn't hear them. And when the next song came on you just had to turn up the volume. Your heart filled with joy at hearing one of your favorite songs. You did a little sway of your hips and pretend a spatula was your microphone.

Some parts you hummed, but when it was time to sing... Oh... boy did you sing, "I'd sit alone and watch your light~! My only friend, through teenage nights!" You were still cleaning the counter as you ran the rag over its surface and wiped away the crumbs, "And everything, I had to know. I heard it on, my radio! You gave them all! Those old-time stars, through wars of worlds- invaded by Mars~"

You through the rag into a sink across the kitchen with ease, doing a little dance and still unaware of someone with big smile, watching the new cook sing away.

"You made 'em laugh, you made 'em cry. You made us feel like we could fly! So don't become, some background noise. A backdrop for, the girls and boys. Who just don't know, or just don't care. And just complain- when you're not there!" You still had your back to the doors as you walked around the counter and dramatically dragged your fingers. You gave a quick swish of your hips as you made it over to the sink.

"You had your time, you had the power~ You've yet to have your finest hour~Radio- radio. All we hear is radio ga ga! Radio goo goo~! Radio ga ga! All we hear is radio ga ga! Radio blah blah-" You sang into your make microphone and raised a hand to the sky, you took on a the stance of the stars and sidestepped to your dance, "Radio, what's new? Radio- someone still loves you-" You did a little spin then screamed at the top of your lungs.

You dropped the spatula and nearly jumped out of your own skin. Who the hell was this!? How long was he here????? You tore out your headphones as your face began to burn.

"C-can I help you?" You had never seen him before...

The man standing before you had a loose and shallow grin on his face with his arms tucked neatly behind his back, "You have a lovely singing voice," He said to your surprise. He took a few steps towards you and went on to say, "I came by because I heard we had a new cook! I had been busy up until now so I hadn't the chance to stop by. I'm certainly glad I did now!" Eventually, he closed the distance between the two of you and held out a hand, "Alastor. A pleasure."

You stood there frozen for a few seconds. You hesitated then shook his hand, "(Y/n)... And... Thanks. I guess."

Alastor gave you a charming smile and asked, "So how is your cooking?" His red eyes bore into you, "I fancy the craft myself, so I am quite intrigued by your skill, if I may so ask."

Geeze he sure did talk like an old man. You looked around the kitchen then shrugged, "I was a private chef before I died. It's why Charlie hired me. I'd say I'm pretty good."

"Excellent!" Alastor beamed. He quickly took off his red tailor coat and threw it in some random direction. You were instantly met with a far different outfit. His red dress shirt was neatly tucked in pants, which were held up by thin black suspenders. You were most surprised as Alastor rolled up his sleeves. His gloves were not gloves at all, but a part of his skin. the deep dark colors bleed like veins up his arm before fading out

You found yourself oddly attracted to this man all of a sudden. Not because he wanted to cook with you, but because of you... didn't expect him to look that. Which happened to be very handsome without the raggy rundown tailcoat. You simply couldn't lie. He was slowly swooning you.

"W-what are we cooking?" You shyly asked.

But his enthusiasm still startled you. He had already grabbed a long knife, swung it in his hand then pointed the tip of the blade at you, "What is the dish that makes your memories come to life?"

That was kind of... how would you say it? Deep? Philosophical? Something like that. You managed to stand on the other side of the counter and grab a large spoon. You closed your eyes and thought, "Chicken and Dumpling Stew," You said as you felt a smile grow on your face as the memory came to you.

Your mother was a kind woman, and the biggest reason you became a cook. Warmth flooded your blood as the golden reminder of her cooking brought peace to your mind. You hadn't made that stew since you were alive, so something seemed even slightly more special than normal.

When you opened your eyes again, letting the memory fade away, you saw Alastor with a large smile on his face, "Well, let's get cooking then," He grinned at you, then even managed to give you a charming smile with a wink. It almost seemed like he was flirting if you didn't know any better.

You smiled at him, slightly flustered by how odd this man was but... also how nice he was trying to be. He wanted to cook with you, which honestly there was no greater way to spend time than cooking with the people you enjoy. Food brought people together, and you had an idea that Alastor saw it the same way. Which was true, he wanted to cook with you so he could get to know this new member of the staff, and perhaps he found you rather... intriguing as well too.

[ambrial-blog]

Was It Worth It.

Was it worth it? Moxie's voice hisses at him, chained to the wall where Blitz dare not tread. It was a forbidden room: A sacrificial room. Blitzo's heartbeat thudded in his as he looked around for a way to get to Moxie. "Choosing him over us! Yells Moxie. "Open your eyes Blitzo, he is using you to achieve overlord status. At first, Blitzo had been all in, sick and tired of Stolas. Even if the Owl prince didn't mean to, he had chipped away at something he shouldn't have, something buried deep within Blitz himself.

A glimmer of murderous intent, Striker had caught a glimpse at what simmered beneath Blitzo's skin during the pain games.  But as Blitzo sat on his throne surrounded by the finer things in life. The was one thing Striker was adamant about him giving up, one thing Striker drilled into him from the very start. "That within these cobblestone walls, that once stood the pious Goetic mansion, no sliver of a  previous life was permitted.  Instead of opening his eyes, Striker strived to keep them closed. Focused on him and whatever current mission they were undertaking. They were side by side through it all,  but to be truthfully honest, Blitzo never felt so lonely. Anything that had to do with the former life that he tried to hold onto, Blitzo had to hide from Striker.

The Overlord Imp was bound to find out about his betrayal. His obligation as a father outweighed the need for a mate.  He now walks a thin line between loyalties, unable to leave the castle walls. There are others like Striker posted at various intervals of the castle, rooms he is not permitted to go into. But Blitzo could no longer ignore the nagging sensation at the back of his head.  He followed his instincts into a room that was heavily guarded by Striker's men. Serpents: with a wraithlike appearance posted on all sides. Only to find Moxie barely conscious and bleeding onto the floor. "Lord Blitzo, I suggest you turn around because, on the next full moon, this little lamb will be sacrificed." Speaks the Guard reaching for Blitz's arm. "No, No, he is with me! Shouts Blitzo yanking his arm back.  Moxie looks up, blood near the corners of his mouth.  A light of hope flickers within his eyes as he struggles against his shackles upon hearing Blitzo's voice.

Blitzo rams his elbow into one of the Guard's chests. The serpent doubles over as two others come, each putting a hand to Blitzo's arms. Blitz throws one into the wall while flipping the other onto his back, punching his face quickly.

"Blitz behind you!" Shouts Moxie in a raspy voice, his eyes wide and fearful.

Blitzo falters upon hearing his voice: crack in his ears, his hand around a guard's throat. Striker's personal Guard has an arm wrapped around Blitzo's neck. "That enough, Lord Blitz, that vermin isn't worth your time. Please come with me quietly; Lord Striker is waiting for you in the den, or is there a problem? Jaxx inquires. Was there a problem? Blitz laughed bitterly, glaring up at Jaxx.

"Why? Demanded Blitz, is Moxie set up to be your sacrificial lamb! You bastard!  and why is Striker going after members of my family?" He hisses, breaking Jaxx's hold pressing a dagger to the Guard's throat as he waits for his answer, "You need to take that up with Lord Striker, Master Blitzo" Jaxx answers his eyes a steely green darkens.  As he watches, Blitzo lowers the dagger.

"I think I will Jaxx, in the meantime make Moxie comfortable."

Blitz couldn't do anything at the moment to help out Mox, not without blowing everything he worked so hard for.  

In the wee hours of the morning, sunlight filters in through the translucent curtains. A letter arrives through an open window the currier: A grey, prestigious owl.  It was a letter from Stolas, A Stolas he never really got to know. Blitzo petted the owl, And when he opened it and read what was inside. he knew he had made a terrible mistake.   His eyes widened. He could almost hear Stolas as his eyes skimmed the letter.   "My dearest Blitzy,  even now as I write this letter, I can feel death's icy caress. My hand quivers, and my heart pangs upon seeing you with him. I never knew how much you hated me or the burden I was to you. I hope one day you can forgive me for all the trouble, I was to you. I just wanted love, to be loved. My Blitzy, I know how hard your life was; I just wanted to be a part of it. I don't blame you, my love. You did what you thought was right.   Blood speckled the letter, forming a heart as a single owl feather was pressed into the letter.

"A memento, My dear Blitzy of the love I still hold for you." Stolas.

Blitzo must now gather the courage to face his past and confront his present. How many family members had Striker stashed here? How many were alive? Why was Striker brutally honest about something and deceptively cunning about others?.  Blitz could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction that had him coming back for more. It was like a bad addiction, and Striker was the drug. Striker knew the effect he had on Blitzo and used it as a form of control.

As Blitzo's boots clacked across the marbled corridors as he sought out a way of freeing Moxie and finding Millie and Loony.  Trying to find answers to his numerous questions.  Striker will stop at nothing to keep Blitzo in the dark until he has Alastor's head pinned to his wall in his trophy room.  It would make an excellent little addition to the ones he had already mounted to the wall- his growing collection.    Dark laughter resonates throughout the room. A shadowy figure sits beneath the severed head of the Goeita Prince on a throne made of ebony. His citrine yellow eyes pierce's the Guard that kneeled before him. As a clawed figure tip swirls the blooded wine.   "So you've come to gravel at my feet," hisses the Overlord. "Blitzy gave you the slip. Why am I not surprised? Striker growls. "If only you had been doing as I require, none of this would be necessary," spoke Striker as two of his personal guards flanked the fledgling. "Blitzo would have remained blissfully unaware of the whole thing. Now you have him questioning my whereabouts every full moon." "Your Lordship, I-I- please have mercy, he surprised us, that's all."

"Now your telling me, you have reason to believe my mate, is plotting against me, And you had the gull to inform him of about our plans, for our little sacrificial lamb!" snarls Striker, his claws digging into the arms of his throne. "And now, you have reason to believe he is planning a rescue. Did you at least slaughter the owl that sent him this letter! "Someone is toying with me, Zarr. Do I look like a man that likes to be toyed with!" Zarr's body trembles as he clutches the other Guard's forearm for support. The Guard pulls him onto his feet a knife is placed at his gullet. "On second thought proclaimed Striker, I might still have some use for you yet Zarr but you need to be taught a lesson." "Take him to the torturing chambers and begin removing his eyes and tongue and feed them to that hell-hound down in the dungeons. "I haven't provided for her in a while. I bet she is ravenous. Zarr screamed as they led him out of the trophy room. But, the serpent Overlord didn't realize the connection  Blitzo has with the radio-talk overlord demon- a link that could destroy everything they worked so hard to rebuild. It was getting harder and harder to keep Blitzo from discovering the horrible truth surrounding Goeita's death and its repercussions on the world. As the truth starts to unravel, the gunslinger will have to scramble to keep up his charade. Blitzo is beginning to slip out from under with each step he takes towards his family, it one step further from the Overlord.

With A candelabra in hand, Blitzo descended down the narrow winding stairs. It was dark, cold, and damp the further he trod. Until he came across a mammoth-sized kennel.  He kneeled before the cage placing the Calabria down, his eyes scanning the far reaches of the cell there; lying in piss and blood was Loona gnawing on an eyeball.  One crimson eye shot open as she spat out the eye into a corner. The sight of Blitzo made her rise to her feet. She grimaced as she walked. There was a scar running across her eye as she dragged her chains, trying to get closer, needing to know that this was real. that Blitzo had finely come for her. "Loony, Loony, Loony," cries Blitzo, I've found you!"

[kathyprior4200]

Haven Hotel characters

 Heaven’s Princess Coercia Egnam glanced down at her long list of meeting attendants and characters that she was about to address: (her handwritten notes included)

 Princess Coerciona (2P Charlie) *Most important*

Phalla (2P Vaggie) *Hopeless romantic butterfly*

Devil Grit (2P Angel Dust) *Serious stiff spider*

Stalaro the Techno Angel (2P Alastor the Radio Demon) *Sob story sissy*

Klutzy (2P Niffty) *Lazy maid*

Core (2P Husk) *Hyper fool*

Cherubs Pub and Chub (2P Razzle and Dazzle) *My loyal guards*

Lucius (2P Lucifer) *Dad*

Lilian (2P Lilith) *Mom*

Sivart (2P Travis) *Some guy*

Sir Anguis (2P Sir Pentious) *Stuttering scaredy-snake toy maker*

Berri Blossom (2P Cherri Bomb) *Modest mundane dame*

Catie Carejoy (2P Katie Killjoy) *Soft bitch*

Ron Wrench (2P Tom Trench) *WW1 news guy*

Baker the puffer fish (2P Baxter the anglerfish) *Mad scientist fishy fish*

Jazzy (2P Mimzy) *Chubby singer lady*

Joygrand the Heaven-cat (2P Crymini the deviant hellhound) *Who the fuck are you?*

Raa the Koala angel (2P Roo the kangaroo trash Aussie demon) *Who the fuck are you?*

Iris (2P Rosie) *Day of the Dead Barbie*

Valentine (2P Valentino) *Blueberry pimp wimp*

Nil (2P Vox) *TV guy*

Ashen (2P Velvet) *Harley Doll angel*

Nestlings (2P Egg Bois) *Meh*

Nathan (2P Seviathan) *Old friend*

Elsa (2P Helsa) *Meh*

Beth (2P Bethasa) *Meh*

Fred (2P Fredrick) *Meh*

Holly (2p Molly) *Devil Grit’s spider sister*

Ragno (2P Arackniss) *Devil Grit’s spider brother*

Henry (2P Henroin) *Devil Grit’s father*

Alliv the blue tough tabby cat (2P Villa pink girly poodle) *Don’t even fucking know*

Thin Tenders (2P Fat Nuggets) *Potential snack*

Archangels (2P Archdemons)

Anti-Exorcists: White demon beings who convert angels into demons each year. Great source of entertainment.

 E.L.F. (2P I.M.P.) not to be confused with C.H.E.R.U.B. the sheep love spreaders and revivers

D.E.V.I.L. (2P C.H.E.R.U.B.) murderers, hate-spreading black rams

Docile (2P Blitzo) *Some childish leader*

Tirred (2P Moxxie) *Serious one*

Timmid (2P Millie) *Wallflower*

Sunna (2P Loona) *High pussy*

Mia and Tia (2P Tilla and Barbie Wire) *Circus twins?*

Samael *Punishing BDSM angel*

Menadel (2P Stolas) *Swan prince, Quartet’s father*

Flora (2P Stella) *Quartet’s mother*

Quartet (2P Octavia) * Swan princess, bubbly teen*

Mayberry/Juneberry (2P Mrs. Mayberry) (Former Human)

Mary (2P Martha) (Former Human)

Ralph (2P Ralphie) (Former Human)

Ollie (2P Eddie) *Brat kid*

Bio Wizz (2P Robo Fizz) *Circus conspiracy?*

Kiva (2P Verosika Mayday) *Zealot*

Woo-Hoo Land Mascot (2P Loo-Loo Land Mascot) *What a creep*

 (More to be added)

(2P Zoophobia characters)

More characters to be added

 “Alright my subjects, tell me something,” Coceria began as she filed her sharp claws with a knife in a tall leather chair framed by black wrought iron. Her black spiky crown was on her head as usual. An angelic spear rested by the throne. Below her was a large crowd seated in comfortable chairs, many of them in shades of blue and green. “How the flying fuck am I supposed to remember all your names?! I bet half of you guys are insignificant background characters. And the majority of you haven’t even been featured in the show yet!”

 “You mean the Hazbin Hotel show? About our counterparts?” asked Stalaro, holding up a white rose for Coercia. Soft classical music played from his blue microphone staff. The pansexual blue man was occasionally stealing glances at Devil Grit’s fluff.

 “That’s irrelevant right now, you sad sack of stag shit!” Coercia yelled. Stalaro’s rose wilted in his hands and the music scratched to a stop. Tears were forming in his large blue eyes and his fluffy ear tuffs were drooping. “B-but I’m talking about my show: The Hazbin Ho…”

 “Haven Hotel,” Phalla corrected.

 “Right, Haven Hotel! And there’s also that spinoff show Helluva Boss.”

 “Heavenly Boss,” Docile corrected her. The elf sat with his colleagues next to a flyer which read, “Efficient Lifesaving Fellows: We revive and keep mortals alive! Sign up today, 33% off.”

 “Whatever,”Coercia brushed them aside. “Anyway, normally I wouldn’t care much about you guys, but now that I have formed the Haven Hotel, Phalla figured it should be a good time for us to introduce ourselves. Or more precisely, me to talk to you all.”

 “A practical first start,” Devil Grit mentioned with a nod. He was a dark gray faced spider with small green dots below his eyes. His suit was black with green stripes, along with a green bow tie. “Just make sure that everyone stays at least six feet away from me. Social distancing is a safe standard, and necessary precaution.”  

 “I do love making new friends!” Phalla smiled, fluffing her long black hair with teal ends. A glowing green X was over her right eye and a teal bow was perched don her head. “Don’t you, Klutzy?”

 The small blue cyclops angel narrowed her large eye. “Friends. Oh joy.”

 “I must say, Coerce dear,” said Lucius. “I don’t really approve of your hotel and your idea. If the council finds out about your attempt to promote rule-breaking activities…”

 “Banishment to Hell? Or to my room?” Coercia asked, hands on her hips. “Not the end of the world. And my name is Princess Coerciona. I prefer my full title.”

 Core, the friendly white cat, rolled his eyes. He shuffled a few cards in his furry paws. “She’s no fun.”

 “I heard that, cat!” she called, making him flinch back a bit.

 “We raised you better than this,” Lilian added.

 “Oh really?” The black haired princess stood up and turned toward her mother. “You’d rather I be some bubbly musical loving princess who wants to spread “joy and redemption” far across the land? Ha! No. A true ruler commands fear and respect in their subjects. I’m sure Hell’s king Lucifer would agree.”

 Pub and Chub, the naked flying babies grinned in agreement while fine tuning black electric guitars in the background.

 “We do not mention that name,” Lucius began but Coercia was ignoring them again.

 “Lucifer may be a traitor to Him but at least he had guts. If His teachings weren’t so flawed, I’d still be promoting them wholeheartedly. As for my position…maybe another princess may someday take my place, but that’s not gonna happen if I manage to be princess of both realms. But now I’m here, in this lovely, shiny…fake excuse of a paradise with wackos like you. Still, someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

 Phalla giggled while Core pat a sobbing Stalaro on his blue back. He wiped his face as his monocle glinted in the sunlight under his left eye.

 “Your uncle Metatron wouldn’t approve of your attitude,” Lucius added.

 “He wouldn’t even notice, considering he’s too engrossed in his record-keeping,” countered Coercia.

 Nearby on another part of the stage, the ocean-like angels Elsa and Nathan whispered to each other.

 “I don’t understand it,” Nathan said. “Here I was, promoting goodness for everyone, but Coercia laughed at my ideas and pushed me around. And we even went to Heaven High school prom together.”

 “Lucius wanted our two families united, so we could have a higher standing,” Elsa added. “You dating the princess would’ve helped. But sadly she broke up with you and now here we are, envious.”

 “Don’t remind me,” Nathan sighed. “It’s not like I was the one abusing her and mocking her ideas. At least she didn’t run off with a sinner girlfriend to further tarnish her family reputation. Ugh…restraining societal standards affect us even here.”

 “Or maybe…she’s not much of a romantic person to begin with,” Elsa suggested.

 “Not all aromantic and asexual people are cold-hearted,” Nathan said. “She’s just one bad apple.”

 Coercia seethed at them, briefly letting out her black feathery wings and white spiked halo over her head. She spoke in a high-pitched angelic language before retreating back to her regular form.

     “I hate it when she swears,” Elsa muttered.

  Coercia turned to the crowd. “Alright, let’s begin.”