#. 🕸️ YOU SAY YOU MISS ME ( I’M RIGHT HERE ) ╱ starters.

[spiderslvts]

some new tags ?? some new tags !! + affiliate tags :]

  .   🕸️  HOW   OUT   OF   HAND   IT’S   GOTTEN       ╱     ooc.

  .   🕸️  MY   FLESH   IS   LACED   WITH   SUGAR   AND   MAGGOTS       ╱     asks.

  .   🕸️  YOU   SAY   YOU   MISS   ME    (  I’M   RIGHT   HERE  )       ╱     starters.

  .   🕸️  WITH   PINK   EYESHADOW   AND   A   SOBBING   PRAYER       ╱     isms.

  .   🕸️  ANYTHING   COULD   BE   HOLY   UNDER   NEON  LIGHTS       ╱     visage.

  .   🕸️  DO   YOU   FEEL   THE   EYES   OVER   YOUR   BODY   STILL?       ╱     promo.

  .   🕸️  TO   SWEETLY   MELT   IN   SIN       ╱     rp memes.

  .   🕸️  I   DRINK   ;   I   BURN   ;   I   SHATTER   MY   OWN   DREAMS       ╱     open starter.

  .   🕸️  YOUR   FISH   HOOK   IN   MY   MOUTH       ╱     crack.

  .   🕸️  EATEN   IN   PIECES   ;   NOT   MEANT   TO   BE    KNOWN   WHOLE       ╱     ic.

  .   🕸️  I   BELIEVE   YOU   LIKE   A    BEATEN   DOG       ╱     dash games.

  .   🕸️  I   WILL   NEVER   BE   FORGIVEN   FOR   WANTING       ╱     affiliates.

  .   🕸️  KISS   ME   WITH   MY   BLOOD   BETWEEN   YOUR   TEETH       ╱     ships.

  .   🕸️  TO   BE   LOOKED   AT    &.   NEVER   SEEN       ╱     art.

  .   🕸️  TOUCHED   DOWN   TO   THE   DELICATE   BONES       ╱     poetry.

  .   🕷  |   IN  NEON  LIGHTS     ╱     canon &. main verse.

  .   🕷  |   THE  CALL  OF  THE  ANGELS     ╱     overlord verse.

  .   🕷  |   FEATHER  BOAS  AND  GLITTER     ╱     70’s verse. (ft. sirserpentine)

  .   🕷  |   OVERSEER  OF  HELL     ╱     zestial’s employee verse (ft. zestials)

  .   🕷  |   GOOD  OLD  FASHIONED  LOVER  BOY     ╱     human verse.

  .   🕷  |   LACED  WITH  BELLADONNA     ╱     lost twins verse (ft. spyderdust)

  .   ♡  DO  YOU  LIKE  THE  SHOW ?  ARE  YOU  TIRED  OF  IT ?     ╱     videoaux.

  .   ♡  THE  LAST  SHRED  OF  TRUTH  IN  THE  LOST  MYTH  OF  TRUE  LOVE     ╱     hellsbroadcaster.

  .   ♡  I  COULD  NEVER  DEFINE  ALL  THAT  YOU  ARE  TO  ME     ╱     r-adio.

  .   ♡  BUT  I’D  NEVER  SAY  I  LOVE  YOU  JUST  TO  HEAR  YOU  SAY  IT  BACK     ╱     sirserpentine.

  .   ♡  I’M  PUT  TO  AWE  SOMETHING  SO  FLAWED  AND  FREE     ╱     dark-ambition.

  .   ♡  YOUR  BEAUTY  NEVER  EVER  SCARED  ME     ╱     gamblins.

  .   ♡  THE  FEAR  OF  THE  UNKNOWN  /  THE  FACE  IN  MONOCHROME     ╱     zestials.

  .   ♡  YOU  HATE  THE  APPLAUSE  /  YOU  CRAVE  THE  ATTENTION     ╱     xluciifer.

  .   ♡  BUT  YOU’RE  HOLDING  ME  LIKE  WATER  IN  YOUR  HANDS     ╱     oriiginis.

[spiderslvts]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐋 ; 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 . . . @alastor-radiodemon

HE DOES NOT BELONG HERE,     but he enters the gates beside the princess of hell herself,  trying  desperately  to keep his shoulders from appearing as tense as he felt. the spider - demon could feel each set of eyes tracing his uncertain frame  :   ( ripping him apart with their gazes ), craning their curious necks to see the wretched thing walk the streets.  ANGEL WAS NO ANGEL  in the most literal sense of the word.  charlie might not have  perfectly  fit  in   when it came to her appearance, but angel dust had no hope of even  trying  to blend in at all.  he imagined himself as  𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋.  staining holy land with every  uncharacteristically timid  step that he took.

even still,  angel walked with purpose. a HESITANT PURPOSE, one that he wasn’t entirely sure where he was meant to find, but  PURPOSE NONETHELESS.  he strolled through the ivory city streets, letting the pleasant coolness of the air brush over his skin.  𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝚂𝙾 𝚄𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙴𝚂,  being in heaven almost felt like being alive again, touched by the lithe fingers of springtime.  angel knew it was only for a short time,  but he could still close his eyes.  ⸺   HE COULD STILL PRETEND.

he finds himself in a what he  supposes  is a cafe  (  LORD, HE HADN’T BEEN IN AN ESTABLISHMENT THAT WASN’T A CLUB IN DECADES  )  .   the sweet scent of espresso and caramel hit him at once, enveloping him in a deeply unfamiliar warmth that forced him to pause in the middle of the crowded place. around him,   much   shorter   angels  were drifting in and out of the establishment,  glancing at him with demented curiousity as they did.  ANGELS WERE STILL JUST AS JUDGEMENTAL  ,  it seemed.  allowed to spend eternity in peace, and yet the fucks still  STARED  at something out of the ordinary, as if angel couldn’t  see them do it.  

his eyes found the corner of the cafe, and, in turn, he met the gaze of a woman’s softened features. she hadn’t seemed to have her appearance as  SHIFTED  as the others around her  ⸺  she looked . . . almost human.  an   ETHEREAL  version of a typical angel. two pale, feathered wings were relaxed beside her, a soft, aegan - blue in their color. they stood out against the deepness of her skin, lingering with a subtle, golden gleam, as if her appearance alone proved she was  𝗧𝗢𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗬 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗬.  her hair was worn in thick, ebony curls that tumbled down her delicate shoulders. she looks up at angel with  ICHORED EYES,  and it’s as if she’s speaking to him   (  WITHOUT ANY WORDS AT ALL !  )   he recognizes pieces of her  ⸺  not from a life  HE HAD ONCE LIVED  , but from a man he  now knew.   

angel slowly pushed himself further into the crowd, hesitantly stopping in front of her before holding out one of his hands.  A PEACE OFFERING,  of sorts. 

❝     ANGEL.    ❞    he speaks the words with a confidence he  forces himself to have.  ❝     i know ‘ya, uh . . . have no reason to believe me, or nothin’, but . . .   ❞     it’s a shot in the dark, but perhaps this was redemption, in a way. selflessness, wasn’t it ?  a reason to try.

❝     i think i know how ‘ya can see him again.    ❞  she listens because she knows what he means. the unspoken words.  ⸺   ABIGAIL, RETURN TO ALASTOR. 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐍.

[spiderslvts]

the  adoration  in  his  lungs  is  atavistic.   centuries - old, almost archaic in its sensation.  the same love that drowns angel dust’s shaking body is found in the pages of a diary a hundred years ago on earth, or in the delicate handwriting of a love letter between two angels in heaven.  A  MILLION  PEOPLE  HAD  FELT  THIS  SAME,  INFERNAL  HEAT  of being so desperately in love that it felt as if he might  die  again     ;     and truth be told, he didn’t know how anybody else had ever survived such a feeling. 

ANGEL  WAS  AWARE  OF  LUST.  he could handle the furious, carnal burn of ardor and sex.  but  LOVE  . . .  the wretchedly human desire to just be close to him, to remember every detail of his form, to know him again ?   it felt suffocating.  SOFT AND SWEET yet bloodied and raw in the same breath.  

it’s here that he sits in that feeling, his long legs hiked up to his chest as he watches   @r-adio   from afar, his eyes tracing over each movement he makes as he sips at his tea. the flickering fireflies radiate light from the wilderness side of alastor’s bedroom, painting the demon’s face in a faint shade of angelic gold.  HE  IS  SO  UNCHARACTERISTICALLY ETHEREAL  that it sends angel’s chest tightening all over again.

❝   uh  -   ❞      angel swallowed. the shattering of the silence made alastor’s head turn, and somehow that made the feeling burn hotter.       ❝   this might, uh  . . .  sound  real  fuckin’  stupid  or  whateva’  ,  but  . . .   y’know,  when i first met ‘ya down here again,  after  all  that  time  ?   didn’t  . . .  really think ‘ya would mean  this  much  to  me.   ❞

[spiderslvts]

𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 ( 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ) : @dark-ambition

THE  STREETS  OF  PENTAGRAM  CITY  ARE  LIT  UP  IN  NEON,   and the leather of angel’s thigh - high platforms are positively glimmering in it with every step. stained - glass barfront windows reflected their multicolored touch against his face  :  WHITE FUR shining with hues of pink and red.  these  are  nights  designed  for  throwing  inhibitions  to  the  infernal  sky.  where his half - lidded eyes would stay focused on the streets ahead, searching for whatever entertainment he could get his hands on.

and  entertainment  he  certainly  found,  when his gaze shifted to the other side of the road, past the crowds of DRUNKEN SIN. it was there he met eyes, so briefly, with an  ALL - TOO FAMILIAR SNAKE.   a man who seemed to freeze momentarily when their gazes touched, as if angel’s presence was enough to shake him still. they remembered one another  :  how couldn’t they  ?   the events of the prior afternoon were still fresh in both of their minds. they were certainly fresh in angel’s mind, at least  ,  and perhaps it’s why he went to re - apply his lip gloss before walking over, adding a purposeful cock in his hips with his steps.

❝   well  hey  there,  handsome  -  fancy seein’ you around here.    ❞         he tilts his head to the side a little as he approaches, eyeing pentious with the corner of his bottom lip pulled slightly between his teeth.        ❝   didn’t think this place was  . . .  your kinda  scene, y’know  ?   ‘ya lost  ?   ❞

a purposeful brush of the arm with expert fingers, his touch trailing up pen’s shoulder,  GAUGING HIS REACTION  with a full smile that was painted with neon lights and unmistakable lust.

[spiderslvts]

@r-adio ⸺ long - ass plotted starter : blood - stained fawn

the night after the radio demon tore himself through the front door of the hazbin hotel, ANGEL DUST DREAMED OF LOUISIANA. he dreamt of a curly-haired, honeymouthed boy with a performer’s voice and soft hands. he dreamt of bayou summers, of wet air and rainy nights. he dreamt of a memory that took the shape of a childhood he had long since forgotten about, for what was the purpose of remembering such things? what was his benefit, lingering on memories, back when he had a heartbeat? there was none. there was none.

(  but he dreamt of it anyway. just for one night. as if the wicked universe was reminding him that he would never have it back, that he was not destined to be remembered. the radio demon would not remember his life. he would not remember anthony. but angel would remember, just as he’d remember the feeling of waking up in the middle of the night following the dream. he is eighteen again. he is drunk on a cocktail of stolen vodka and lovesickness. he is praying to god but he feels no reply, and he knows why.  )

new orleans used to be kind to anthony borrelli. lively city streets, radio stations that wrapped him up in upbeat jazz. in another world, he would’ve stayed there forever: a world where he didn’t need to keep returning to new york with his family. he would’ve stayed with the boy he grew up with, the one he’d known since the tender and wretched age of twelve. back when the world made so much sense and so little sense all at the same time.

and that was it, he supposed. he would’ve loved alastor if they stayed young forever. in another life, they were in that world. in another life, alastor was still teasing anthony for putting too much sugar in his coffee  ( “you’re ruining the flavor, you know. you might as well just drink a cup of milk and a pound of sweetener.” )  in another life, anthony was worshipping such sinful love from atop the kitchen counter. his heart feels as though a sunset has opened within it. in another life, nothing wretched had ever happened, and heaven and hell were simply words in an empty poem. 

that was the world angel had dreamt of that night. the world where he’d been able to stay. maybe he would’ve seen alastor fall apart. maybe he would’ve known why the radio demon had ended up in hell to begin with, and maybe he would’ve cared about him anyway.  (   how embarassing, wishing your friendship would’ve been enough to turn a monster into a man again.  )

in the flickering light inside of a dilapidated radio tower, its walls torn asunder by holy hands, angel dust finds the hunched and trembling figure of alastor once again.  all that was unholy, he looked awful.

the radio demon had separated from the group as the fight between them and the exterminator angels truly began, and angel had barely any time to think anything of it. it wasn’t until the chaos had died to smoke and rubble, when the ground was painted in shades of gold and crimson, that the realization of two losses had hit all of them. pentious was dead, alastor was missing, the hotel was in pieces, and perhaps the panic of it was what made it so easy for angel to slip away from the grieving group. he only found alastor because he knew him. there were few places he could’ve been.   (  ANGEL FOLLOWED THE DROPS OF BLOOD ALL THE WAY TO THE TOWER IN THE DARK. )

alastor’s pulled himself into a tight, shaking ball underneath the soundboard of the radio tower, halfway hidden, with his shadows cloaked over him in a half attempt to shield him in darkness. the antlers atop his head are grown a little larger than normal in the midst of his panic, though his body doesn’t appear to have fully transformed into his more demonic appearance. his ears are pinned back against his head, and mixed with the strained, grimace-like smile on his features, he looks like a frightened animal. his eyes snap up to look at angel as he takes a step forward, and his pupils look foggy, glazed over. his chest pours blood between his fingers, where a hand presses loosely over top. a gash from an angelic weapon. 

in spite of everything, angel kneels. like he’s praying again. how ironic. how odd. who do you pray for, and who do you pray to?  

(   you used to joke about being scared of being loved. in reality, you are scared of being loved by anyone that is not him. you are scared of housing all the love for him that you’ve held since you were thirteen. you are scared that there will be nowhere else for that love to go, and it’ll weigh on your shoulders forever. until eternal damnation finally teaches you a fucking lesson.   )

alastor’s eyes, fogged and feverish as they might be, glowed yellow when they met angel’s own. angel shook his head at the radio demon. his voice felt light ; as if it weren’t actually coming from his own body.

❝     no - one else is comin’.    ❞      he doesn’t know why it’s the first thing he says, but it’s a reassurance for both of them. this connection feels delicate ; one wrong move, and alastor didn’t have any reason not to rip him apart. why wasn’t he afraid ?   angel’s gaze flickered down to the wound on his chest, and for a moment, he wishes he’d grabbed some sort of first aid kit. something. anything.

[spiderslvts]

@sirserpentine - ❝ you’re 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐓, poor thing. come on, you need some sleep. ❞

THE  LEATHER  BODYSUIT    that adorns the curves of his body feels cheaply made and uncomfortable against his skin, clinging to angel just a bit too tightly. this was  PURPOSEFUL.   such outfits were not made to be kept on for too long   ⸺   val only bought them to be  TORN  OFF  in fits of firey passion and violent heat.  angel supposed, though he never got confirmation beforehand, that a man willing to spend so much  MONEY  -  enough to buy out the remaining time slots angel had for the evening   -  would be the sort looking to witness one of angel’s  𝐒 𝐇 𝐎 𝐖 𝐒.

he’d almost expected an overlord.   𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄  𝐇𝐎𝐓  -  𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓  𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄   looking to keep angel to himself for hours on end. angel had taken extra care in his makeup that evening    :    (   when  the  eyeliner  was  thick  enough,  nobody  in  their  right  mind  would  pay  attention  to  the  bags  forming  under  his  eyes.  )    the faux lust that painted his face, the cock of his hips in every step he took,  QUICKLY MELTED at the sight of the client in the hotel room.  

the familiar face stood at the foot of the bed, glancing curiously around the hotel room with a basket in his hands, filled to the brim with a wide assortment of little gifts. pajamas that looked beyond antique, more resembling deep, blue robes. bottles of water, blankets. angel didn’t have a chance to say anything to the snake before pentious turned around with a startled yell, hurrying to cover his eyes and hand over the basket to a  BALKING  angel dust.

the words are kind, they’re gentle, and angel is holding the basket to his chest, feeling the exhaustion paint over the persona for just a brief second.  it’s true  ;  he’s  EXHAUSTED,  and as he wraps the blanket from the basket around his shoulders, it hits him all at once.

❝    hold on -     ❞     angel put the basket down. his shoulders ached.     ❝    let me get this straight.  you fuckin’ spent  money  on all my time slots, just to  . . . what  ?  NOT fuck  ?  or is this some weird - ass kink shit  ?  because that, i can work with.     ❞