#【 I AM THE KNIFE IN THE DARK

[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

[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.

[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.”

[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.

[cumbiazevran]

Rowan and Charlie quotes pls and thank 🥺🥺🥺

Anything for you, Kani, my beloved.

🎭 Rowan Hawke 🎭

“Enduring things is what you do best. Gritting your teeth and bearing them.” Human Acts, Han Kang.

“In the dark times, will there also be singing? / Yes, there will be singing. / About the dark times.“ Bertolt Brecht, Motto

“I say: ‘this are the brown hands of my father, and I could never deny them. [...] in the home in my heart shaped like all the places I can no longer visit, whose names will always be written in Spanish, just like the edges of the hands of my father.” Alastor St. Laurens, These Are The Hands Of My Father

The entirety of “I’m not a religious person but” by Chen Chen

“I was your only friend.” The Social Network script / “Nobody tells you how to get over a friend.” Tumblr post by inkskinned

“The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On” by Franny Choi

“Living is an art, not a science.” Benjamin Alire Saenz, The Inexplicable Logic of My Life

‘Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools; and I that am sure I lack thee may pass for a wise man. […] ‘better a witty fool than a foolish wit.’ Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare.

⛈ Charlie Hawke ⛈

“Chorus: You would become the wretchedest of women. / Medea: Then let it be.” Medea, Euripides, tr. Oliver Tapin.

“We were never perfect. / Yet, the journey we make together is perfect on this earth who was / once a star and made the same mistakes as humans.“ Joy Harjo, A Map to the Next World

“Whether you come as a lover or an executioner, I am ready to receive you.” Agustín Gómez-Arcos, the carnivorous lamb

“Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.” Richard Siken.

“Can I leave heaven once in there? If not is it just a fancy prison? explain how if I cannot leave it isn’t a prison.” yahoo answers.

“I am half afraid to hope for what I long for.” Emily Dickinson.

“We are, I am, you are, / by cowardice or courage” Diving Into The Wreck, Adrienne Rich

“I don’t think Narcissus fell in love with his reflection. I think he was torn with the horror of seeing himself for everything he was—” On Fear, Alastor St. Laurens

“No one wants a half-remembered tragedy. You must know the width of the knife and how it ruined you, name the organs it kissed.” Olivia Gatwood, Life Of The Party, ‘Addendum II to No Baptism’

[shadowhunter250]

First Love/ First Kill Alastor X Reader

WARNING- Violence, Murder, Death, Breath scenes of blood

You were his first lover, you were special. He always said you were an angel sent from above, but he was violent, evil. He was vial and hungry yet he loved you, he needed you, and yet he killed you. Now he meets you again in hell, he never expected to see you again, his angel. Sure you were a bit strange in your human life but surely you weren't evil. Right? How could you of all people do wrong? You could do no wrong in his eyes, yet here you were in front of him once more. There was no hate in your eyes, no tears. You seems like you expected to see him here. Like you knew this day would come. This was the first time he ever felt unable to form words. You didn't yell at him or scream in fear. But there was one thing he didn't like. He didn't like who was standing next to you, he didn't think you were here to begin with but to know that you found a way to Vox made his skin crawl. While he many be asexual he found you slightly attractive. There was just something about you that drew him to you. he found it in himself to want to protect you and keep you safe. He loved you even if the two of you were the most affectionate couple you were fine with in. In fact you weren't one for a touchy feely relationship either. It was why you two worked so well together. You would occasionally attack him with a hug or a kiss on the cheek but intercourse was never on either of your minds. Even thought he didn't like the thought of someone touching him you stilled needed it. So he would hug your or give you a kiss on the cheek. If it was in a good mood the two of you would cuddle for about ten minutes. It was usually the most he could handle at  time. You respected his need for space and didn't force him to do anything he didn't want. But as time progressed he found things changing, as he looked more into his situation he found his emotions towards you change. He became angry, every little thing you did or said would make him angry. He didn't know where this anger would come from and when it happened he couldn't control it. It was like another voice in his head that was louder then his own, 'kill her, kill her, killer her,' It yelled and yelled repeatedly until finally he couldn't take it anymore. He had to give in, he needed the voices to stop, he needed to feel again, anything besides anger. He saw you in the kitchen. You were humming a tune as you prepared dinner, he loved you. Every time he saw you the voices would lower, he would remember the little things about you. Like the way you would  smile at him, it was different from the others. He could always see the love in it. Your eyes looked at him with love, the short embraces you gave him. The way he held you close to him and when he noticed you would always look happiest in his arms. He always knew he was crazy, hell he always the need to be violent, attack whatever he could he always had these voices in his head, he use to be able to stuff them down but they were never silent, that was until he met you. You changed that but it seems the have finally come back and didn't like be silences. So he looked at you humming a tune making dinner. You were in a simple dress swaying your hips to the music on the radio. He remembers it so well it was like he was in that moment again. You turned around to face him, you gave him that smile he loved. The way your eyes would light up and your smile would be a bit wider then usual. The voices dimmed but he couldn't take them anymore. He needed them to stop, he needed them gone forever, so he decided to do what they said... just this once. You ran up to him giving him a quick hug and peck on the cheek. "Hello Al, I didn't think you would be home so soon. Were you able to find someone to take your night shift today?"

He didn't say anything, he couldn't trust his words, besides what would he say? He could form some elaborate lie but it wouldn't exactly matter in a few moments what he said. He would be the only one who remembered it. "(name) I'm sorry."

(name) tensed as turned to look at him. She noticed the knife in his hand that he took from the counter and she knew right away what was going to happen. She felt her heart rate quicken but she didn't run or grab a weapon. Instead she stepped closer to him. "It's alright Al, I understand. You told me about the voices... are they... are they back?"

Alastor looked her in the eyes and saw the fear in them. It was like something clicked in him. He needed to killed her, he needed to have a piece of her with him. He always thought she would leave him and why wouldn't she after this. There is no stopping now, her eyes look like a deer who seen a hunter in the woods. The thought of it thrilled him. A twisted smile came to his face, "Oh no needed to worry my angel, you're going to heaven." Then he lunged, he felt the knife piece her skin and heard a sharp snap from it going through one of her rib bones. It filled him with delight. He needed to hear it again so he pulled the knife out, a part of his was horrified by what he's down but it completely disappeared when (name)'s arms wrapped around him and whispered, "I still love you... an I forgive you..."

He stabbed her again and again until he lost the number but he remembered it was somewhere in the hundreds. When he finally pulled back he let her limp body fall to the floor and glanced down at himself. He was covered in blood and he smiled widely as he looked at his bloody knife and licked the blood off it. The voices were gone, he looked at (name)'s body and a piece of him felt regret... how could he do this to his angel, he just hoped that you were some where safe, somewhere far away from him, far away from where he was sure to go. But the moment passed and he found himself wanting no needing more. "Don't worry my angel, you can finally rest. You were always too good for this world anyhow."

Present

He saw the look in you eyes, he knew you knew who he was. You were behind Vox, how long have you been with him? How did he not find you sooner? Why were you here? "(name)" he stated, it was all he could say.

You stepped out from behind Vox, "Hello Al, I didn't think I would find you down here."

"I didn't think you would be down here. How- Why? What happened?" He finally asked. He needed to know why you were here of all places. You of all people deserved better.

"I had done several things before I meet you Alastor. I have harmed people, robbed, I have committed more crimes that I could count in my short life. I was apart of the mob, born into it, I learned from the best, when I finally got away I found you. I thought I could have a quiet life with you but I guess karma caught up with me. I am no angel Alastor. But I was glad that someone saw me as one." She stepped closer to him. "I wish I could take it all back and save you,"

"Save me? Save me! Out of all the people in the world I couldn't be saved (name)! You know that. But what I want to know is why? Why did you forgive when I was attacking you. Why did you still put your trust in me after what I did to you?"

By now (name) was a few feet from him, "Because I could see the darkness in you from the beginning it just wasn't as dark as mine. I trusted you till the end because you gave me no reason not to. I know you would be my undoing and I accepted it. So when the time finally came I was just glad to be able to hold you in my arms one last time before I passed. I was just glad to be able to call you mine at all. I knew I was setting you free, damming your soul down here, I should have stopped it but I wanted to see you again. I needed to see you again after death."

Alastor rested a hand on (name)'s cheek, "I missed you my angel. You accepted me in ways no one else could, I should have married you, I should have given you the best life that you could have. I can give you that now if you wish."

(name) looked into his eyes but pulled away from him, "I love you Al but I can't, I have a job to do for Vox. I wish I would have found you sooner..."

"What do you mean for Vox? What does he have on you?" Alastor staid looking towards Vox with a glare.

(name) stepped away without a word but the look in her eyes he knew. It was him, he was the reason that she had to stay with him. Vox had been hiding her from him for years and now she belong to him. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve an angel. Not his angel. He felt a sharp pain in his heart but the smile never left his face.

"Don't worry about me Alastor. I can take care of myself. I love you still, you will always be my one an only." (name) said as she walked away following Vox.

"I'll save you (name)." Alastor said, "Even a fallen angel can still be saved."

She glanced over her shoulder, "I don't want to be saved if you aren't coming with me."

He smiled as the car drove off, he would find a way to save his precious fallen angel no matter the cost.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 28: Bow

Moths were attracted to the light, but what was attracted to the darkness?

Esredes Rosemond, a shapeshifter just like any noble, or Ishgardian for that matter. It was all the matter of the game, and while he had learned it very early, he nevertheless hated it at many times.

It was his parents that taught him one of the key mechanics of shapeshifting. When they got going, it was in his nature to argue back, to devour their words so his own may find purchase. But it was a battle that could not be won, and only made the retaliation worse. It took until he was sixteen to fully grasp the strategy involved there and his place in the world. People responded better when he was quieter, when he didn’t let his flame show, when he gave the illusion that he was fully and willingly stepping into their court with many knives under his coat. A flame, after all, burned people, and people were afraid of fire. They preferred a small flame on a candle, something they believed would not cause a house fire.

And when you presented as a mere ember on a candle, they took you through more of the house, and you got to see exactly what you were dealing with. For they could easily blow you out just like that, but you could just as easily brush up against a piece of wood and start the fire. A delicate game, for a delicate balance, and still, he hated every second of it.

Sometimes when they blew the candle out, he was simply in no position to reignite and set anything on fire. They not only blew the candle out, but they took it out of the holder entirely and snapped the wick off, perhaps even the entire candle, and then asked it to do everything for them with nothing in return.

Sometimes the split candle simply went away. Sometimes it was forced to stay.

The list of names only grew over time. Alastor, who left him after declining to help him further only to come back when he needed help. Heilyn, repeating his son’s mistakes, coming back after putting a knife to Esredes’ throat and begging for him to help get rid of an Inquisitor he set on his own ass. More towards the present, there was Pyralis, completely rude to him for trying to help him only to come back begging in the most peculiar of ways.

He set these people on fire without remorse.

The sergeant who completely humiliated him in public, the witch who thought she could come back to him for help after calling him a monster only to throw that back too, the utter psychopath that was Ivarault coming into his office, the Inquisitor who harassed him begrudgingly trying to ask his help only to then try to humiliate him further. He would set all these people on fire without remorse too, but he wasn’t a powerful enough ember to do the job. At least, not without the little candle being eviscerated completely.

But that was the role of a candle. It gave light, it set fires, it was discarded as a common household item. Candles were made to be burned out.

Esredes had seen his fair share of candles that burned much more beautifully than himself, as well, so much larger and more refined than his simple little one. And each time he saw them, he was fascinated by their presence.

Except for Ferrant, anyhow. That had been a candle that snuck up on him when he wasn’t prepared, and Esredes was afraid of being burned alive. It was hard not to, it was during one of his first trips back into the city after his pardon, he wasn’t even wearing red, and the man had just walked behind him and asked his name as if any random person would do something like that. So bright were his words, but all Esredes could focus on was the fire. I want you to work with me, had been the crux of his words. And when he told him he was uncertain he could come back to the city at all, he launched into a little rant of questions about what Esredes wanted from life, if he wanted to start a fire and do something meaningful, that he had many choices to think about. No fucking shit. Is this the life I am thinking of leading? Esredes had thought to himself in that moment. One where nobles will just take advantage of my weakness to get me to do their bidding? No, then perhaps coming back was a bad idea. Perhaps he should stick to the wilderness. Yet somehow the Lord seemed to pick up on his distress, and was quick to apologize multiple times. Ferrant was a bright candle, but he was too enthusiastic for his own good sometimes. Even still, his flame was mesmerizing despite its imperfections, and for a while Esredes perched like a moth right behind the flame of this man a few years his junior. I can’t let Ferrant down. I must prove myself to him or else. It was just his overactive mind, though, in the end. Ferrant didn’t need to be impressed, and he realized in time they were but similarly sized candles. So the moth fluttered on to other flames.

He only seemed to seek out a specific kind of candle each time. There was Kalas, the Emerald Atoner, who he recognized was not exactly a perfect flame either. But nonetheless, he had drawn him in with all the talk of how heroic Esredes seemed, how the man seemed to be able to be so open about his bloody past and instead become a public hero- how did he do something like that so perfectly? Regardless, Esredes’ heart had cold spots, and he craved the warmth brought by him. He stuck his hand right next to the flame and let the warmth be almost scorching. He would have probably burned himself, if not for the selective presence of the man limiting his exposure to the flame. And by the time he saw it again, once more, it was just a flame like any other. Kalas was a fun presence, but he was just that, a man, a friend. Esredes could feel the heat without being so close now.

There was that Au Ra knight, of all things, who had saved him from an angry loyalist in the Brume. He truly was a shining example of chivalry, something Esredes himself could only be in awe of, but he was just that, an encounter that went with the wind.

As time went on, Esredes didn’t find himself coming so close to the flames he found particularly bright as before. Here and there he stepped a little closer, but he left it at that. And then one day out of the blue, he stepped into the presence of an incredibly radiant candle. It was just a man having lunch near the Fortemps manor. Nothing more than a wave, if a man was enjoying himself, who was he to deny him the pleasure? Only for him to be addressed back by name, and given a name that was nothing but chatter around Ishgard to him before. High Inquisitor Alphinoix Luitomiere. Most Inquisitors were soulless husks, enemies for Esredes to try and bring down, but this one was a true pillar of justice and anti-corruption, perhaps one of the only true Inquisitors in existence. Yes, for as measured and polite as his demeanor was, he could see that shining silver and blue candle. It had to be one of the most bright flames he ever saw, even rivaling Ysayle herself. Still, he was absolutely going to be burned to a crisp if he got too close, no doubt about it. Righteous or not, he knew he was not exactly a holy pillar of justice himself. So he maintained his distance from the flame, only for said flame to ask him for help. To spend time in the Blue Room, away from the prying eyes and ears of Ishgard, to finally talk to someone he decided in that moment he trusted. Had the man just stepped right into Esredes’ meager flame, asking him not to burn him? So the man went to you, Esredes said. So he wanted to be a person and not a High Inquisitor, that was fine. Esredes had a task now, to treat the man as a colleague and peer, and he was going to place himself at the optimal distance from the flame. Close enough to warm one another, but far enough so he wouldn’t plunge himself right in. He told himself this over and over as the taste of flames beckoned him closer. You could expect nothing but what was given from a candle like that. It was more than enough to do one’s part to be sure it kept burning.

And when it was all said and done, there Esredes returned to candles like his own, ones he knew well. The flames of his circle of trusted associates. His flame helped light all of their wicks and keep them burning, without setting them on fire. Esredes held each candle close in his hands and fanned the delicate flames of each one.

Yes, the most comfortable candles were the ones you knew would never draw away from fueling themselves on your own fire.

—

@thecalmnessandthestorms / @heartofthefury Alastor, Heilyn, Ferrant

@1emon-vii Pyralis

Kizo Lanvalloix (unnamed mention)

Sere Ymiraude (unnamed mention)

Arius Ivarault

Zenith Alphinoix

Star Brenciar (unnamed mention)

@emeraldeorzean Kalas

[dontasktheradiodemon]

King Cake (2/12/2021)

Alastor sends a hostage letter to Sir Pentious @hiss-and-vinegar​ letting him know that his king cake is ready. Sir Pentious boldly tracks down Alastor at his secret lair (the hotel he hangs out at every single day) to retrieve the hostage cake.

They hang out in the kitchen, chat, and hatch a dastardly plot to break into another ring of Hell and steal scrap metal.

And there’s an exciting surprise at the end!! You should read it! It’s exciting!!!

Alastor

There's a pompous trumpet fanfare out of nowhere to call attention to a small portal opening up in midair, just in time for a folded paper to drop through.

Unfolded, there's a Polaroid of a chocolaty-looking Bundt cake with careful stripes of gold colored sugar, with the tip of a knife looming threateningly over the innocent cake. The polaroid is paper clipped to a letter made of words cut and pasted from a newspaper, reading: "meet me tonight or the cake gets it !"

The letter is signed with Alastor's KTRD stamp, which begs the question of why he took the time to cut up a newspaper rather than just write the letter himself.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious knows exactly why Alastor did it this way. Because he's EXTRA. Just like Pentious is. In fact, when Penny reads the letter, he's SNICKERING to himself.... until it's a FULL BLOWN CACKLE!

Receiving a letter? Excellent. RECEIVING A RANSOM NOTE??? HAHAAAAA!!! He LOVES IT. Their humor is based on PACKAGED BOMBS, after all. Sir Pentious slithers over to his planner, and begins jotting the information down. Just in case!!! You never know if you'll get distracted. Hee hee.

Alright Alastor, he's going to go take a bath and make sure he's all ready for tonight.

Alastor

Alastor, in all his vast wisdom, totally neglected the most important part of a hostage letter: a time and place for the hostage exchange to take place. He sort of thought that Sir Pentious would message him to arrange a pickup. Someday he'll learn not to assume anything.

At any rate, since he doesn't hear from Sir Pentious, he figures maybe he hasn't seen the letter yet or else doesn't have time to pick up the hostage tonight. If he doesn't hear from Sir Pentious by midnight Alastor will message him to make sure he got the note and that he didn't misinterpret it as a real threat instead of a joke, but in the meantime he distracts himself with hotel business and his other Mardi Gras plans.

Sir Pentious

Yep, it never even dawned on Sir Pentious to just... message him. Likely that meant to meet at the Hotel! Isn't that where Alastor often hung out anyway? It was just easier to meet there anyway, with its strange dimensional ways.

When the time comes, he's slithering into the lobby, still wearing his usual outfit. Should he have dressed up? WELL, there was nothing about dressing up so... Anyway here he is, tongue flicking and all. Slimther slimther.

Alastor

It's not going to be hard to find Alastor—just follow the sound of accordions and loud French singing. He's been playing almost nothing but this song for over a week. Seriously, he's got a dozen different versions of this song.

He's taken over the hotel lounge with various sewing junk: colorful fringes made of scrap fabric, scissors, half-hemmed squares of fabric. At the moment, he's attaching strings of pearls to a fancy-looking dark blue-green coat.

Sir Pentious

Oh! Look at THAT! His eyes widen, ALL of them, and he *beams*, all of his sharp yellow teeth gleaming. A party! Le Carnaval est commencé! He's going to slither in more fully, as he takes in a *deep breath*.....

"*JOYEUX CARNAVAL, MON AMI!!!*" Yes, nothing like screaming during festivities.

Alastor

Alastor starts and jumps out of his seat—oh, Sir Pentious is *here*—and hollers back, "Joyeux carnival!" Why is he hollering, they're in the same room. He tosses down his project and prances across the room to Sir Pentious, half dancing to his music before he finally stops it so they can talk properly. "Look at you, tracking me down in my secret lair—some hostage-taker I am! That'll teach me to send ransom notes."

Sir Pentious

"WELL, YOU COULD BE BETTER AT IT IF YOU INCLUDED A MEETING PLACE AND A MORE APPROXIMATE *TIME*, BUT ALL YOU SSSAID WAS MEET YOU AT MIDNIGHT! WHERE ELSE WOULD I CONCLUDE TO GO?" He lids his eyes, smirking, "ROSIE'SSSS? I THINK NOT!"

They can tease each other about that. *It's allowed.* He straightens his posture and gestures about, "YOU'VE DONE A VERY GOOD JOB DECORATING! BUT I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED AS MUCH FROM A SHOWMAN SSSUCH AS YOURSSSSELF!"

Alastor

"Well—! I thought we were going to arrange a time and place. I didn't want to say 'let's meet at so-and-so,' I didn't know what your availability was. Say, what kind of a victim of a terrifying kidnapping doesn't go and *ask* when and where to meet for an exchange?" Tisk tisk.

He surveys his mess. "Oh, yes—I'm not finished. Most of this decoration is for *me*, believe it or not!" He picks up a battered leather coat, onto one side of which he's messily sewn about half of the colorful fringes that are scattered around the room; and then tosses it back down. "I always start preparing too late, I never figure out what I'm doing for Mardi Gras until the last minute!"

There's a ding like an elevator arriving. "Ah! But you're not here for costumes, you're here for a cake!"

Sir Pentious

.... OH it's for a COSTUME? And here Sir Pentious thought Alastor was decorating.... He kind of looks sheepish a moment, then clears his throat. The reminder of cake has him smiling again.

"YES!! I ENJOYED THE PHOTOGRAPH VERY MUCH, IT LOOKSSS TASTY. I AM EAGER TO TRY IT."

Alastor

"Then by all means!" He leads Sir Pentious toward the kitchen.

"Do you want to try it here? Hard to play the whole king cake game without enough participants to eat the whole thing at once, but! There's no reason you can't eat it bit by bit, really."

Sir Pentious

.... He makes a face......................

"I DON'T WANT TO *SHARE* MY CAKE....." Squint, "I WILL EAT IT WITH *YOU*, BUT IT'SSS MY CAKE!" A real gentleman, truly.

Alastor

"All right! It might take you a few days to find the winning slice, then. But hey! That guarantees you'll be the one to get it!" It's not the traditional way to play, but they're celebrating a Catholic holiday in Hell, who gives a fuck about tradition.

Sir Pentious

Who gives a FUCK indeed. He purrs, and gives Alastor's shoulder a *squeeze.*

"I IMAGINE IT MUSSST HAVE BEEN DIFFICULT TO MATCH MY SPECIFICATIONSSS, BUT YOU WOULD BE THE MAN TO DO IT!"

Alastor

He leans into the squeeze and beams at the praise. "I worked it out! It *was* a challenge, but I'm proud of the results! Just don't eat the cake in the dark."

Sir Pentious

Blink.

"WHY? THAT SSSOUNDSSS OMINOUSS."

Alastor

"What, do you want me to ruin the surprise?" The sweetest, most innocent smile.

He manages to maintain it for a couple of seconds before he cracks and laughs at himself. "Ha! No, I'm kidding, I haven't done anything to it, there's nothing you need to worry about—but you *do* need to eat it with the lights on."

Sir Pentious

He makes a RATTLING sound, face VERY close to Alastor's before he pulls back, "YOU GOT MY HOPESSS UP FOR SSSOMETHING, ALASSSTOR! BUT A TASSSSTY TREAT WILL HAVE TO DO. WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE SSSOME WITH ME? I HAVEN'T BROUGHT ANYTHING MYSELF."

Alastor

"I don't tamper with friends' food." He tilts up his chin, as if turning his nose up at the very *thought* of such a thing.

Here's the kitchen and there's the cake, under a little lid to keep it fresh; he removes the lid with a flourish. It looks like the picture. Sans the knife hanging over it. "Oh, maybe a bite or two if you don't want your whole slice, but I don't really like cake." Says the guy who's been constantly baking cakes for the last week and a half. "Anyway! It's designed to be cut into eight sections, you can see from the ridges formed by the cake pan. Take whatever slice you want."

Sir Pentious

Hmmm.... Alastor doesn't like cake! Penny squints at him.

"YOU KNOW WHY YOU DON'T LIKE CAKE? BECAUSE YOU DON'T LIKE TEA. IF YOU LIKED TEA, YOU'D BE MORE CULTURED." He's got the shit eating GRIN. THIS MAN IS IN A GOOD MOOD.

He takes a plate, then a slice.... What does this cake taste like? Time to take a bite and find out!

Alastor

"Oh, is that the reason! Is that why it is! That's the cause and effect chain, enjoying tea causes you to enjoy cake." He elbows Sir Pentious lightly as he passes on the way to a cabinet. "You're lucky I'm not cultured, then. It's more cake for you." He grabs a bag of homemade jerky out of a cabinet—see, he's eating something too—and plops down in a chair near Sir Pentious.

The cake is, unsurprisingly, chocolate—but with a slight citrusy flavor mixed in. Although it was clearly made in a Bundt cake pan, Alastor took the trouble to slice it in half and add an extra layer of chocolate frosting in the middle, with additional colored sugar dyed black mixed into the frosting that makes it shimmer a little.

Alastor watches intensely as Sir Pentious takes his first few bites of the cake; but he loses interest after a few seconds and monches his jerky.

Sir Pentious

Alastor losing interest in watching Pentious eat? THE NERVE!

Sir Pentious is DELIGHTED by the flavor, and he's actually humming out "Mmmm"s as he eats it, eyes closed in pleasantness.

He's doing that thing where he rubs a cheek while he chews. Yumby.

Alastor

HAHA NEVER MIND it's cute and now he's interested again. "I take it you like it!"

Sir Pentious

"I DO, YOU ALWAYSSSS FIND A WAY TO OUTDO YOURSELF. HOW DID YOU COME BY THESE INGREDIENTSSSSS? HAVE HELP SSSSECURING THEM?" He gently dabs ( <:dab:618107764211712020> ) a napkin to his mouth.

Alastor

"All box mix, actually! Chocolate and lemon. I got them at one of those upscale grocery stores where the demon nobility goes, they've got a fairly well-stocked section of mortal realm imports. It just takes a couple of substitutions from the box recipe."

Sir Pentious

"HMMMM.... BOX RECIPES, HMMM...." He's going to eat more of his slice. It is rather filling.

"WE SHOULD HAVE TEA! OR, *I* SHOULD HAVE TEA."

Alastor

On his feet! "We've got *some* running around. What kind?" He opens a cabinet and pushes aside like five varieties of coffee looking for tea behind it.

Sir Pentious

"EARL GREY." He swivels his head to watch Alastor dig around.

Alastor

“Earl Grey,” Alastor muttered. He shoved aside a half dozen boxes of herbal tea. “Ah-ha! Here we are!” He retrieved the tea triumphantly, then went looking for the other supplies they’d need.

Once he had the water heating on the stove, he plopped down next to Sir Pentious again. “What teas *do* you like? Besides Earl Grey.”

Sir Pentious

His tongue wiggles as he thinks, and he begins cutting another piece of the slice with his fork.

"ENGLISH BREAKFAST!" Prr prr prr. "HAVE YOU HAD IT? NO OF COURSE NOT. IT HAS A SWEET, ALMOST FRUITY TASTE TO IT."

Alastor

“I’ve had it! At some point. As I recall, it tasted quite a bit like tea.” He smirked. “I’m not a fan of sweetness, either.”

Sir Pentious

"BOTTOM OF THE POT, *GRAINY* BLACK COFFEE FOR YOU ONLY, EH? HOW *DO* YOU SURVIVE." Snort, "OH RIGHT! DEAD, TOO! NYAAAA HA HAAAAAAA!"

Alastor

With great dignity, Alastor said, “I drink the *highest quality* of coffee. Look at this.” He leaned back in his chair to open the cabinet and point at a coffee bag with a skull and crossbones on it. “Look at that! This is almost pure caffeine!” Studio laughter. “But seriously! I have a refined palate, and it applies as much to coffee as it does to anything else.”

Sir Pentious

"ALASSSTOR, YOU EAT PEOPLE, HOW REFINED CAN IT GET? OR IS IT SSSSIMPLY SSSO BECAUSE YOU SSSAY IT ISS?"

Alastor

“I don’t eat people because I have *low standards.* If I had low standards, I’d be willing to choke down whatever hellish fauna’s ground-up offal is used to make the patties in fast food joints.” He sticks out his tongue, bleh. “I eat people because my standards are *high.* The simple fact is that quality ingredients are hard to get in Hell, and meat is no exception! Hell’s native game is *incredibly* difficult to hunt—and not particularly delectable, at that. Imported meat is expensive, rare, and often spoiled when you get it from the long trip to Hell. On the other hand, sinner meat is flavorful, *much* easier to hunt, self-replenishing, and comes in varieties that taste very similar to familiar mortal domesticated animals. I’ve *discussed* it on my *blog.*” He says this all self-importantly.

Sir Pentious

HEE HEEEEEE! He's giggling to himself while Alastor goes on his rant. It IS very informative, and he's certain he's read that before.

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! THOUGH ONLY IN HELL COULD IT BE ARGUED IN THAT MANNER! CANNIBALS ARE NOT WELL REGARDED IN THE LIVING WORLD."

Alastor

“Well of course not, cannibals in the living world kill people! Cannibals in Hell only *inconvenience* people.” He started counting off on his fingers: “Now, granted, almost all the premortem cannibals I’ve talked to have been Americans—that’s what you’ve got in the area—but generally they were eating people for one of four reasons: starvation; hatred; a fetish; or Catholicism.” Studio laughter. “That’s a communion joke for you—but the first three reasons stand. Plenty of postmortem cannibals started for one of those three reasons, sure—but more than you’d think got into it for the culinary convenience of it! Especially if they’re buying from the butcher instead of doing the hunting themselves.”

Sir Pentious

Alastor you probably intended that communion joke to be a fly by or maybe a light chortle, but Sir Pentious was also a catholic, and instead of just snorting, he launches into a full fledged WAAAAAH HAHAHAAAAAAA at the joke.

"*CATHOLICISM!!!!*" Look at him clap his hands together. Glee. He loves a groaner.

Alastor

He politely pauses for the uproarious laughter. A comedian is never going to complain when his audience finds his joke *more* funny than he expected them to—especially if he’s performing in front of his favorite audience.

Sir Pentious

Don't mind him, wiping tears from his eyes at that one. Fuck catholics!

"APOLOGIESSS, YOU WERE SSSAYING?"

Alastor

“Oh... I didn’t have anything to add to the point. Just the differences between antemortem and postmortem cannibalism.” A shrug.

He takes advantage of the slight lull in the conversation to hover over a teapot and the box of Earl Grey to set in front of Sir Pentious. Here, dump your own tea in, Alastor sucks at tea prep.

Sir Pentious

He's going to do just that, humming as he does. None of that 10 second steeping!!! DISGUSTING..

Once the bags are in, be gets back to finishing off his slice. No prizes in that one!

Alastor

And Alastor returns to his jerky. Ah, a moment of peaceful, companionable silence—haha just kidding. When it’s obvious neither of them is about to say something else, Alastor starts playing a peppy march.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious is *happy* for it, though he attempts to change the channel by flicking Al's ear tuft.

Alastor

That’s not a dial, but he gets what Sir Pentious is attempting to do. The music switches from a march to the Mysterious Axman’s Jazz.

Sir Pentious

PREFERABLE.

Sir Pentious purrs, and once the tea has brewed long enough, he's going to pour himself a cup.

And then DIP some cake in it, HEE HOO we're living wildly.

Alastor

"I see why a tea-drinking man of *culture* also eats cake. So they go together, do they?”

Sir Pentious

"OH, SHUT UP, BEAN GUZZLER." Says the Leaf Drinker. He's laughing.

Alastor

“Oh, am I the one here who consumes beans! Where do you think chocolate comes from?” He’s laughing too.

Sir Pentious

"*COFFEE* BEAN GUZZLER!!! BUT, AH, TOUCHE."

He's done eating cake for now, and he's sipping the rest of the tea. He can handle the bits of crumb, he did this to himself.

"SSSO AFTER THISSSS, BACK TO YOUR COSTUME MAKING?"

Alastor

A long, *long* tired sigh. “Probably. I’ve only got—it’s still Friday, right?” He tilts his head, as if he’s *listening* for the time. “Yes, Friday—so, two days until the ball that one costume’s for. And the fancier costume, at that. Although I might need a break, my productivity is plummeting.”

Sir Pentious

Tongue flick.

"OHHH, DON'T YOU WISH YOU WERE A SNAKE LIKE ME? MY MIND CONSTANTLY IN A STATE OF *FLUX* OVER IDEAS AND INSSSSSPIRATION!" HEEHOOHEE

Alastor

“Ideas, I’ve got. It’s the inspiration I’m missing. Inspiration and patience for the repetitive bits. I’ve been sewing pearls for *days.*” He laces his fingers to stretch his poor aching hands and mutters, “I should delegate this.”

A bright smile! “Is that your way of subtly hinting that you’ve got some recent inspiration you’re dying to share, or are you going to disappoint me?”

Sir Pentious

Oh, he HAS inspiration alright. He leans in closer, his Pentious Breath right in Al's face.

"YESSS, INDEED. YOU SSEEE, I'VE COME INTO A SSSPOT OF *KNOWLEDGE.* I'VE HEARD THAT LOO LOO LAND, YOU KNOW, THE AMUSEMENT PARK IN THE GREED RING? IT'SSS BEEN BLOWN TO SSSMITHEREENSSS. LOTSSS OF METAL JUSSST FOR THE *TAKING.* WHILE I HAVE IDEASSS, I DON'T HAVE MUCH TERRITORY AND ACCESS TO METALSSS IN HELL." He sits back, "ALASSS, I'VE NO WAY TO *GET* TO THE DAMN PLACE. NOT ENOUGH POLITICAL SSSWAY, AS IT WERE. NOT SSSINCE I ARRIVED IN HELL, ANYWAY."

Alastor

Smells like tea and cake.

Alastor blinks in surprise. "Lucifer's park?" Who would fuck with Lucifer's park—? "Oh, no—Greed ring. The knock off."

That sounds like a solvable problem. Alastor leans forward, chin propped up in his hand, grinning wider. "Well, I wouldn't be much of a dancer if I didn't have sway!"

His mind is already working—what's an amusement park going to have in it? Roller coasters? Elaborate moving games? Lots of good mechanical bits and bobs, no doubt. And this Sir Pentious isn't the only one Alastor knows who'd benefit from those supplies. "If I get you in there, I get to salvage anything *you* don't want. Sound fair?"

Sir Pentious

"WELL, YESSS, NOT LYU LYU LAND. LOO LOO LAND!"

HMMMM? He leans closer. Their faces could be TOUCHING.

"AND WHAT NEED HAVE YOU FOR SSSSSCRAP, ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

“*Lyu Lyu.*” Wheeze. Is that how it’s pronounced? “*I* don’t need it. But the other you that’s been around lately does, and I promised I’d help him get fresh materials at a discount. No better discount than free!”

Their faces ARE touching. Alastor closes the last little distance to squish their cheeks together and flings an arm around Sir Pentious’s shoulders. “Now, this is your little expedition—you’re putting in the research and the labor, so of course you get first pick, I’m not going to ask you to hand over any of the good stuff to an alternate who isn’t even coming along. But! Anything you *don’t* want, I don’t see any harm in hauling it over to him and asking whether he can make use of it!”

Sir Pentious

Ah, the CHEEK SMOOSH. Cheeks can smoosh other cheeks!!! Sir Pentious puts his own arm around Alastor, and Grins wide.

"AH, WHAT A *GOOD SSSSAMARITAN* YOU ARE, ALASSSTOR!" Hee hoo. His tongue flicks in thought..... No maybe don't tease him right now.

"VERY WELL, THEN! WHATEVER I DON'T WANT, YOU CAN HAVE! ANOTHER QUESTION IS METHOD OF *RETRIEVAL.* ARE WE RELYING ON YOUR FRIEND HENTAI FOR THAT?"

Alastor

“You know me! Utterly selfless! The most helpful man you’ll meet!” He knows he’s left himself wide open for teasing. He’s very grateful Sir Pentious didn’t take the opportunity.

“With the airship still out of commission, I suppose we’ll have to, won’t we?” He pokes Sir Pentious, “That’ll be the other way you pay me—bring snacks for me. Working with Hentai is hungry work.”

Sir Pentious

SNORT.

"WHAT TO BRING FOR THE MAN WHO HATES EVERYTHING! NO SWEETS, NO TEA! ONLY FISTFULS OF MEAT!"

Alastor

A scandalized hand over his heart. “Sweet and tea are the *only* things I hate! Have you ever seen me turn down one of your sandwiches? *Really,* now.” He pokes Sir Pentious’s arm. “Are you just having fun at my expense, or do you really think my tastes are that limited?”

Sir Pentious

"WHY *ALASSSTOR*, WHEN HAVE I *EVER* HAD FUN AT YOUR EXPENSE?" He's saying it ever so dramatically, very sarcastic as he even winks AND nudges him.

"SSSSANDWICHESSS IT ISSSS. SSSTILL NO ALCOHOL, MMM?"

Alastor

The most *dramatic* eye roll. He arches his brows and tilts his head to get more eye rolling in.

“Oh, social drinks are fine right now—but I don’t think alcohol mixes well with moving heavy metal or communing with eldritch deities. Maybe once our work is finished.”

Sir Pentious

He's beaming suddenly, and he gives Al a KISS on the forehead before backing up.

"A *DEAL!* ALTHOUGH, I MAY REFRAIN FROM ALCOHOL AS WELL. PERHAPSSSS GINGEMBRE INSSSTEAD!" GOLLY he's in a good mood. Look at him smiling!

Alastor

Hold on, give Alastor a second, fireworks are going off behind his forehead and he’s trying to enjoy the show.

“What is that, some kind of ginger ale?” His brain translates *gingembre* as plain old *ginger,* and he doubts Sir Pentious is suggesting that a chunk of root is an adequate substitute for alcohol. “Sure! We can drink while we work that way.”

Sir Pentious

Prrr prrr.

"YESSS, GINGER ALE! I HAVE A REFRIGERATOR ABOARD THE AIRSHIP, KEEPSSSS THEM PRACTICALLY *FROZEN.* YOUR LIPSSS WILL SSSTICK TO THE BOTTLES, NYA HA HAAAAAAA!"

He's finished off his tea! Pours himself another cup...

Alastor

Static static.

“Now that sounds like a trap! I guess the only way to find out for sure is to try one, isn’t it!”

He gives Sir Pentious enough space to drink his tea—but, as long as he’s already over here, decides to keep leaning their shoulders together.

Sir Pentious

He's fine with this, he's still purring in that terrifying way. Habby.

"SSSO WHO ARE YOU DANCING WITH TO GET US INTO THE GREED RING, ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

“Oh, I’ve got a few people I can call on! I hear Paimon’s been looking for a way to spite Mammon; Stolas is usually pretty lax with sinners, he’s easy to bargain with; perhaps Tommy, he owes me one... I’ll narrow it down!”

Sir Pentious

HMM! Exciting. Sir Pentious is about to SPEAK when his phone VIBRATES against his breast. OH!

Time to grab his phone and INVESTIGATE....

Alastor

Time to lean over and EAVESDROP.

Sir Pentious

Well, he's obscured the screen enough from Alastor, but....

```Congratulations on your imminent fatherhood, Sir Pentious. Please come collect your wife at your earliest convenience. Which had better be now.```

OH. OH. GASP. JELLY EYES. All of his eyes are JELLY EYES. Look at this man, he's looking like he might COLLAPSE!

"*OHHHH* I HAVE TO *GOOOO*!"

He's STILL holding the phone but, YOU KNOW. He's going to show the screen to Alastor, listen that's his best friend he wants him to KNOW!

Alastor

*Oh!!* Alastor grabbed Sir Pentious’s arm. “*Really* this time? Not unfertilized eggs?”

Sir Pentious

"REALLY, THISSSS TIME!" *SNIRFFF.*

"WE WEREN'T SURE, BUT HILDA ISS RATHER THOROUGH...." His voice is all SQUEAKY.

"I'M GOING TO BE A DADDY!!"

Alastor

Alastor squeezed an arm around Sir Pentious’s shoulders. “Well, *congratulations!* Oh, you must be *thrilled!* How many is it?” He had to raise his voice to be audible over the cacophony of invisible party noisemakers and an old song that started singing in the background: “—*pretty baby! Won't you come and let me rock you in my cradle of love, and we'll cuddle all the time. Oh I want a lovin' baby and it might as well be you, pretty baby of mine—*”

After a good long squeeze, he let go and swatted Sir Pentious’s arm. “What are you still doing here, you’re supposed to be with your wife! Go, get! Get out of here! Take your cake!”

Sir Pentious

He BEAMS, Sir Pentious is GIGGLING. How many?

He goes red faced, raising a finger to speak, UNTIL HE'S BEING SWATTED! "OH, YESSS, AT ONCE! AT ONCE!"

He gathers up the cake! And he gives a TIP of his hat to Alastor before he's HURRIEDLY slithering out the door!

... Peeks back in. "THISSSS ISSS JUSST THE CONFIRMATION, BY THE BY! NO EGGSSS YET! OKAY, TA TA!" The door closes!!

Alastor

He waves. “Give Valera my congratulations!”

The music slowly peters out once the door closes.

... Hold on, how were there no eggs yet if Valera was already pregnant? He should have asked. Whoops.