#Alastor adjacent

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Niffty: Alastor! There's a monster under my bed, and it's really ugly!

Husk: *from the bottom bunk* Honestly, fuck you.

[gildedoak]

Southern Comfort Food Side Story - Garlic Bread

The day that Angel Dust nearly fought the King of Hell.

[thedeerman]

headcanon: lucifer gets a huge thrill out of not feeling like the most powerful person in the room. logically, he knows that he’s the most powerful being in the realm, he always has been and always will be. but that’s pretty boring after ten thousand years, so when a sinner challenges his dominance and can’t be killed without Charlie hating her father forever, that’s pretty wild.

at first Lucifer hates it, like who the fuck does this guy think he is? but after a little while, he realizes that this is pretty interesting, a little spice to his long, dull life. he hasn’t been on an even playing field with anyone in the entirety of his time as the devil, and sure, he still isn’t. but it’s the closest he’s had in a long time.

no one since Lilith has had the audacity to challenge the authority and power of the devil, not until this one asshole sinner comes along with way too many strings attached and reminds him what it feels like to have a challenge.

of course, this means that Alastor gets to assert his dominance over the actual real devil and that is a rush like never before, and before they know it, they’re constantly getting into little spats that end up looking like the most sexually charged encounters ever to anyone that sees them.

at the end of it all, though, when they go run off together and everyone smirks and makes jokes about the king of hell and the radio demon hooking up, no one realizes that they’re actually just heading outside to kick the shit out of each other until they’re both exhausted and laughing, all dirty and muddy and gross until Luci snaps his fingers to clean them up and fix their clothes and then they head back inside for tea like nothing ever happened at all.

the only one that’s fully aware that they’re not actually fucking is Angel, but he makes more ‘they’re totally fucking��� jokes than anyone else combined anyway

[gg-ladybug]

I’ve been thinking nonstop about a post @nouverx made on March 3rd where Alastor asks “what country” the ace aro flag was, and my brain naturally made a meme about it.

Rosie jump-scared him with it one night in the December of 2016, and he said yes for the sake of his sanity (post 1933 world maps are hard, okay)

[patheticandmiserable]

hi hello I'm kind of obsessed with drawing Alastor sick and miserable and I want to start posting art here. We're starting off with some snz-adjacent stuff while I'm still getting comfortable posting on this blog. I'm still building up the courage to even allow myself to draw self-indulgent doodles, but if I don't regret posting this, there will be more art!

He's so cute when he looks pathetic afgfhigk- and putting him in a big comfy sweater? My heart is MELTING- I can't be the only one

[classificationhell]

How do you think Alastor, Vox, Fizz+Ozzie, and Mourningstar would react to reader bottling up their feelings? They don't focus on their negative feeling and try to maintain a positive attitude about everything to not be a burden on the people around them.

(I hope you and your sister are both doing well, btw. I hope she's recovering well.)

Yeah.... Alastor is going to try and wait for them to be ready. He'll try and show his trustworthiness and such, and yeah, he has his own secrets, but his patience won't last forever. Eventually, he'll swaddle them so tightly they are unable to escape and just wait by their bed until they tell him everything. They will tell him everything with a bit more prompting, no doubt.

Of course he'll commend them for keeping their smile and optimistic attitude, but he doesn't want them to have any secrets from him.

Vox understands a fake smile. He's another one who will try and wait for you to open up. Maybe probe a bit while you're playing with Vark. However, he's less patient than Alastor and his secondary gender does him no favors with being seen as a protector. Sooo he may use his hypnosis to get them to tell him, if that's an option.

Mourningstar wouldn't notice at first to be honest, but once he does he is absolutely distraught.

He tells them everything, even things he probably shouldn't >.>, so why won't they do the same? Clearly, they don't love or trust him! He's doing anything and everything to show them how much he loves them and trusts them. He'll hold and cuddle and kiss them, and if all else fails, he's on his hands crying and begging that they tell him. "Do you not love Daddy? Do you not trust him princess? What can Daddy do to get you to? More cuddles, more outside time, do you need more love and attention?" For the love of everything unholy just tell him or you will never know a moment's peace.

Fizzarolli and Ozzie will try and ask you upfront and let you know that there's no need to try and be strong and that you wouldn't be a burden if you confided in someone. They'll even offer you the chance to talk to a therapist instead of them. However, they won't force you to do things since that's kind of counterintuitive to providing an environment of safety and trust.

[10moonymhrivertam]

Me, sweeping searches like "female transatlantic accent" and "Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)" and "Stayed Gone" under the rug: hahahahahhaha nothing to see here

[ironborealis]

@elsa-fogen

Just a little thing that's been itching at me, with your lovely Charlie's Toy AU.

***///***

"...I was starting to think he was just a figment of my imagination," Charlie yawns, and Vaggie pauses brushing out her girlfriend's long blonde strands for a moment.

"Oh?"

Before today, Vaggie had thought that Alastor was just a childhood friend of Charlie's, one who maybe died during an Extermination Day, and that's why Charlie always seemed a bit sad when she talked about him -- another reason she was so passionate about ending the exterminations.

The demon that appeared on their doorstep today like a demented Mary Poppins was nothing like what she'd pictured her girlfriend's childhood best friend to be.

She'd come running when she'd heard Charlie shrieking in the entrance, spear at the ready.

She'd been about to throw it at the red demon that had ensnared the now sobbing Charlie, when a black tentacle had wrenched the spear from her grasp and firmly planted it into an adjacent wall. The spear hit with such force that the plaster cracked and one of the pictures fell to the floor.

"Oh Charlie," the demon cooed, "Don't your friends know better than to run inside with spears? Now dry those eyes, give me a smile, and introduce me to your new friends."

The words were sticky sweet, but the look in the demon's eyes was utterly cold. This, Vaggie knew instinctively, was not a demon to be trusted or crossed.

"Mmm... It was like one day he was here and the next he just poof! Disappeared. Mom and Dad said he went to go live on a farm in one of the Upper Rings, but I knew that couldn't be right because he wouldn't just leave me and not say anything -- eventually they wouldn't talk about him at all. I started to think that I made him up... It wasn't like I had a lot of friends, it'd make sense that I might make one up."

Vaggie's heart breaks a little at the thought of Charlie ever being lonely as a child -- because Charlie is so good, so kind, and it seems like few people really appreciate that about her.

She doesn't think Alastor appreciates that about her either, except as something he can use to manipulate Charlie. Why else would he disappear for fourteen years, only to show up and offer to 'help' with the hotel out of the blue?

To (grudgingly) give Alastor credit, his magic made renovations a lot faster.

He was also someone powerful enough to summon other demons, including a minor overlord like Husk, to come work for the hotel.

There's something off about Alastor and Vaggie's going to get to the bottom of it, hopefully before he can hurt Charlie again.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 1 (Alastor x Reader)

Rated Adult for adult themes, triggering content and sexual content. I wouldn't say this is dead dove but it's dead dove adjacent. Series Trigger Warnings: Adultery, stalking, Sexual assault, Rape, smut of undetermined sorts, Domestic Violence, Time period accurate views on women and domestic violence and skin color, Alastor is a serial Killer, there's murder, there's angst, there's dark content.

Summary: Fading away in an abusive marriage, each day passes just the same as the last. Painful monotony eats at you until a pair of warm brown eyes sparks the idea that you could have something more. When a business deal between men sparks a torrid affair, how long can you keep things going before the fire either leaves you a burnt out shell or burns up everything around you?

And what becomes of the radio host who thought he was above the fickle fires of the heart when the match he strikes burns his hand instead? Can he possess what rightfully belongs to another man without leaving everything he has fought for in ashes?

Please be mindful. This story is dark and triggering at times. I've written portions to elicit an emotional reaction. As you should always do with dark content, even if you're not at risk of being triggered, please step back and take a breather when needed. The story will always be here when you get back. I am so tickled by the excitement this story has generated ahead of its release. We're looking at tentatively between 20 and 30 chapters (A note from future Kit: Ha! That was a cute prediction... I'm drafting chapter 37 rn and looking at 50...(Another note for future-er Kit...we're writing chapter 51 rn... we're not passing 60) posted once a week on Fridays.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Audio by Nyx Productions, Part 1, part 2

To the world, you appeared nothing more than a simple woman with a placid smile, gliding through town. The rhythmic click of your sensible black heels echoed against the sidewalk. To a trained eye, your gait could be categorized as slightly staggered, stiff, and just a little uneven, but to an untrained eye? There was nothing to see, but a modestly dressed woman, impeccably put together though just slightly out of fashion, performing the role of the ideal well-to-do wife with the precision of a clockwork automation. 

You could have taken a bus, but you would rather walk, or at least that was your story, but it wasn’t totally true. You tried to focus on the positive, a lesson your parents had instilled in you from an early age. If you couldn’t focus on the positive little bits of your life, what else was there?

It was nice to get out of the prison of your home. That is what you’d tell anyone that asked, though you wouldn’t call it a prison to anyone but yourself. They would smile and nod, like was polite and they’d make small talk about how mundane the life of a homemaker was and assure her that as soon as little ones landed her days would be filled with excitement and joy. 

What wouldn’t be said was how you wished she could brave the bus because your simple heels hurt your feet or how the idea of falling pregnant terrified you. You couldn’t, wouldn’t really, brave the bus because it would jostle you and you’d surely bump into someone or something. This time of day, the bus would be crowded and people would bump into you.

Today you couldn’t have that. 

Today you needed to protect yourself.

Stepping into the tailor shop you thanked the man on his way out, holding the door open for you on his way. With a sigh, you let the relief of an errand half done wash over you as you stepped up to the counter. Behind you, the bell above to door jingled, announcing another new arrival to the small shop.

Glancing over your shoulder, you hardly registered the tall man with tan skin and fluffy brown hair as he held the door open for his short blonde companion. An odd pair, you thought before turning back to the counter, showing the woman where the sleeve on your dress was torn, seam along the shoulder ripped and explaining your fabricated story of how it happened. 

She smiled at you with pity. This was injury to clothing she knew well though she would never be so bold as to talk about it. You were not the only woman in town to frequent the tailors with ripped shoulder seams or dark rust colored stains. These were the secrets she kept, a professional curtesy that was expected from her but always unsaid. Did the people of the city even realize the things she knew?

“It’ll be ready in a few days, Mrs. Latimer.” The shopkeeper was quick to take the dress from you, doing the work of holding it up and examining the rip. 

It was a small mercy, to not have to raise your arm much at all. The woman folded the dress neatly away and slipping it below the counter before motioning you aside while she wrote out your ticket. She was a master at multitasking, finishing your ticket as she greeted the newcomers who seemed less eager to step up to the counter than the shopkeeper was to serve them.

“What about that one?” the blonde woman whispered to her companion as you thanked the shop keeper as she handed you your ticket. The newcomers lingered, taking their time making their way to the counter. 

“Mimzy, we are here to pick up your dress,” the man’s rich voice sounded familiar but you couldn’t place it. Glancing at him, you tried to place where you could know him from but came up blank. That was just as well, Laurence didn’t let you really socialize much outside of your day to day tasks.

The blonde, Mimzy you had gathered her name was, wiggled her fingers to you in a wave as she caught you looking their way before directing her attention back to the man she was with. 

“Yes, yes. And you need the lining of your coat restitched,” She made a show of rolling her eyes, performing for an audience of only a handful, “You’re no fun sometimes.” 

“A dreadfully dull time, that’s me,” the man laughed lightly.

“I’m just saying,” Mimzy continued as you stepped toward the door, “You’re a good man. A decent man. You should find someone, is all. You don’t gotta settle down but you don’t gotta be alone all the time either.” 

You cringed, struggling to push open the heavy door, trying to not listen in on the pair’s clearly private conversation. You had been too eager when you pushed on it and your shoulder didn’t hold up to the stress well, pain flaring. It was easy enough to forget how painful your shoulder was in the moment. 

It wasn’t so bad, as long as you didn’t overdo it. Pushing open the heavy door yourself was clearly enough to count as overdoing it today. 

“Here, allow me.” The man pushed open the door for you, holding it open with a palm high along the edge of the door, giving you plenty of space to exit. 

You ducked under his arm with a mumbled word of thanks. It didn’t matter, he didn’t seem to really be listening for it anyway as he directed his attention back to his companion as he let the door begin to fall closed as soon as you were out of striking range of it.

“And why should I-” the rest of his words were lost behind the closing door. 

Alastor sat in the empty lounge, sipping his rye as Mimzy talked on and on while she changed. The dress surely would fit her just how she wanted, it was custom fitted but that didn’t stop her from putting on this whole production every time they got back from the seamstress. 

He knew the song and dance well enough, having known the woman for the past few years. She would change. He would complement. She would complain. He would reassure. She would blush and call him a flirt. He would move on with his day. 

“Oh!” Mimzy interrupted herself, earning a raised eyebrow from Alastor. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what, my dear?” 

She popped her head out from between the curtains, “I think I found myself a new juice supplier. You’re off the hook.”

“You think?” Alastor downed the rest of his drink in one smoothe gulp.

“Ya- Laurence’ll be able to take over soon and you’ll be off the hook again. I know you ain’t eager for that amount of risk. Told you it was only temporary.” 

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement as Mimzy went on and on about Laurence. He was tall, not as tall as Alastor, she assured him, but still tall and handsome. He tuned out her ramblings, mind instead turning back to the woman Mimzy had pointed out at the tailor shop. Such a timid little thing, fashion just outdated enough to stand out. 

Mimzy smacked his shoulder with a bar towel, leaning across the counter to look him in his eyes as she demanded his attention, “Yes?”

“You’re distracted,” she stated simply. 

“Just thinking about tomorrow’s broadcast.” Alastor answered simply, running his finger over the rim of the empty glass. “That’s all.” 

“Mhm,” she narrowed her eyes at him as he leaned back from her. “You sure you ain’t thinking about a pretty face?” 

“Haven’t seen any prettier faces than yours today.” 

Mimzy laughed loudly and teased, “Flirt! But I know it ain’t my face that’s got you distracted. Was it the doll at the shop? She was cute!” 

“She’s got a man,” Alastor countered. 

“And how the hell would you know from not speaking to her at all?” 

Alastor shrugged, “Just got a feeling about her.” 

He could tell Mimzy that she had that hollow look in her eyes that a woman got when she had a partner that got a bit too rough with her. Hell, he could point out the way she couldn’t manage to open the door to the shop, her shoulder weak from strained muscles. Did the man that called her his toss her around by the arm last night? Yank her a little too roughly?

He wouldn’t though because it didn’t matter. It wasn’t worth having Mimzy ask questions about his past or worse, assume the reason he had no partner of his own was due to any reason beyond him not desiring to be weighed down. 

“I bet a charming lad like yourself could sweep her out from under whatever man she’s caught up with anyway. Want another?” Mimzy pointed at the empty glass as melting ice settled in the bottom. 

“I’m good, Darling- It’s early yet.” 

Your feet were killing you as you made your way home. Still, you couldn’t help but take your time. If you were out, you were not home cleaning, cooking or waiting for your husband to return. While you were out, you could pretend to be your own person and it was alright, you had to keep up appearances as long as it was the right appearance. 

Lingering in front of the newsstand, you let your eyes run over the papers and magazines each with bold words on the covers, fighting for the eye’s attention. 

The headlines were polar opposites in many cases. Some celebrated the progress and change made in the 24 months since women had been granted the right to the vote. Others bemoaned the change and the influence women could now have on the world around them, pointing at any little thing as a sign of the doom this would spell for society as a whole. 

The idea made you laugh. Two years and while you did your best to learn, you hadn’t even come close to a polling center. Your husband wouldn’t allow it. Whatever change there may have been for better or for worse, you had no part of it. 

You knew which of the papers your loving husband would pick up and celebrate. It wasn’t the same ones you would but that didn’t matter. Women may have had the right to vote but you knew you were little more than an accessory in the world you lived in. 

Moving on with your walk home, you tried to force yourself to relax your shoulders and back. The pain was starting in from tensed muscles, telling you that while you hadn’t been watching your posture well enough, you had curled in on yourself. 

A deep breath in through your nose and out through your parted lips, slowly as you pulled your head up and your shoulders back, trying to ignore the way the muscles screamed in protest. You forced your spine straight and winced at the pain in your shoulder as you worked your fingers into the tense muscle, trying to convince it to relax. 

It would pain you for a few more days yet and if you were lucky, that would be it. You just needed to be good until it had a chance to heal. 

“Good Day, Mrs. Latimer.” A man you should have known tipped his hat at you in greeting, startling you out of the thoughts you hadn’t realized absorbed you as you walked slowly down the sidewalk. 

He was closer than you had expected when he snatched your attention, causing you to gasp and flinch back, shoulder twinging in pain. You didn’t like people in your space, at least not without warning. All it would take was someone saying you were getting too close to a man to your husband and hell would rain down on you regardless of the truth of it. 

Your shoulder banged into the light post behind you. You didn’t know it was there, having lost track of your surrounding as you walked in the haze of thoughts. A gasped yelp slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

Appearances. You had to keep up appearances. Swallow the pain, don’t let anyone know. Don’t let anyone see. 

“You alright?” The man asked as he steadied you, large hand gripping the outside of your shoulder only making the pain flair more. 

Shrugging out from under his grip, you painted on a false smile as you willed the tears in your eyes back. 

“I’m fine,” You looked away as you saw pity cross the man’s face. How much did he see? Surely not more than what was normal, what was acceptable?

“You be careful ma’am,” the man nodded wisely to you. “Didn’t you hear? There’s a serial killer running around. Probably not good for a lady to be out alone till they catch the bastard- pardon my language.” 

“Oh my,” you tried to play the unsteadiness on your feet as being from the terrifying news. Would be believe it? Did be believe it? “I’ll be sure to be mindful, thank you.” 

You didn’t need his pity but what you needed even less of was him seeing any real reason to pity you. Forcing your hand from your shoulder, you tried to ignore the pain, to will it away. 

There was nothing to see here. Just Mrs. Latimer making her way home from the tailor shop. There were no bruises. No torn dresses. Nothing wrong. 

Life was perfectly normal, a storybook where you were married into a family of means with your family having so very little to offer. 

Tag List: @xalygatorx, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @nyx91, @lilith-jae, @goyablogsstuff, @kaylopolis, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @charlottemorningstarsdarling, @diffidentphantom, @rainydaysmut, @honestlyshamelesskid, @yui-onnero, @lunarmango

Want to trust your fates to the tagging system and be added to the tag list? Let me know. We here at Kit's Nonsense Inc make no promises on Tumblr's ability to actually make your tag function.

Next?Masterlist

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[contumacious-arcadia]

Hello! I'm aware there is a lot of discontent around shipping Alastor with anyone since it's been stated that he is an asexual character and I would also like to throw my two cents out into the void pertaining to the issue. I *really* like radioapple. My lizard brain spouted "they gon' fuck" as soon as I saw "Dad Beat Dad". I find it super charming and enemies-to-lovers is naturally hella entertaining in my opinion - so I started reading radioapple fics and **they may have actually taught me something about myself. ** I'm on the older side (37), and have always just referred to myself as bisexual. I never really considered anything else because when I was younger and learning my own identity, all of the super specified language just wasn't available to me. It didn't really cross my mind to reexamine those conclusions as time passed, because I was under the impression (as many others also seem to be) that asexual meant "ABSOLUTELY ZERO SEX OR SEX-ADJACENT THINGS FOREVER, NO, NYET, NINE" and aromantic meant "ABSOLUTELY DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS, NEVER EVER, NOPE". ...I am definitely not the only one, as this does seem to be the sticking point people argue about when shipping Al with literally anyone. After reading many, many radioapple fics written by people within the asexual and aromantic spectrums, I feel like I've gotten a better handle on the categorization and shockingly (to me, at least) it seems *I* am actually also very aromantic and moderately touch averse (though I would not consider myself asexual). Who would have thunk that fanfic would teach me a very important fact about myself? It was like I was given a key to understanding why my relationships are always so troubled and why I seem to HATE being in relationships, despite repeatedly diving back into them. I literally give each new partner a whole-ass speech about how *incredibly* uncomfortable overly romantic crap makes me feel and how if they start badgering me/guilting me about the whole 'love' concept incessantly, I will likely freak out and end the relationship... and EVERY TIME they pull that crap and then try to guilt me by claiming that they "didn't think I was serious". If I had the language to explain I was aromantic and touch averse (when not specifically gettin' down), I think I could have avoided a lot of damage. Maybe. Anyway, I just wanted to state that shipping an ace or aro/ace character and writing fanfic that actually explains their thought process and feelings can be a SUPER beneficial thing. I don't know why it wasn't obvious to me that nothing is ever 100% black and white, but again, I don't seem to be the only person who believed that. I would gently urge some of the fans who are hardcore (and vocally) *against* shipping Al with anyone to read some of the fics and maybe it can help them adjust their perspective a bit too - just like it helped me. BUT - this *IS* the internet, so if you just want to shout angrily into the void, you can do that too! Two cents complete.

[liulith]

Sir Pentious & Alastor: an underrated dynamic

"Show yourself, Alastor! Come and face--! Oh, there you are. FACE MY WRATH!"

Sir Pentious has been in Hell for much longer than Alastor. That means he was there when the Radio Demon appeared, and he's been trying to overthrow Alastor for decades! We know what Alastor is capable of, and what he could do if he truly wanted Sir Pentious to stop. He obviously doesn't register Sir Pentious as a threat, but that doesn't mean he's not annoying (like when he interrupts his song in the pilot and destroys a wall in ep2). Yet in all those decades, Alastor always let him go with the equivalent of a slap on the wrist, considering what he's done to other sinners in his broadcasts.

And why is that? Why, he must find Sir Pentious very entertaining, of course! Even though he calls Sir Pentious forgettable (to rile him up), there's no way a narcissist like him doesn't LOVE being the main focus of Pentious' "evil plans", as pathetic as they are. Not only does he give him the attention he deserves (like Vox), he's a true "architect of evil" who constantly reinvents himself to try and get the upper hand on Alastor. To Alastor, Pentious is like a sillier, weaker, more immature version of Vox with close to ZERO survival instincts but twice the creativity. Even Vox, who made a whole diss track about Al, wouldn't dare speak to him the way Sir Pentious does if they were face to face.

"SILENCE! Now cower! For when I've ssslain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their equal."

He does have some "oh shit" moments when he sees he crossed a line/is about to get Team Rocket-ed, but he still gets back up and attacks him again with all the unearned confidence of a man who has no idea how easy Alastor goes on him.

Just like Alastor, Pentious is attached to the aesthetics and technology of the time period he knew when he was alive, and still manages to innovate with those limitations. I think Alastor could respect that.

"You whores have no class! In war, the side remembered is the side with the most style!"

It's also funny that to Pentious, Alastor is the young, modern one. Some phrases Alastor uses are "young people slang" to him!

Pentious asking Alastor questions on his "modern" radio technology...

Alastor is one sarcastic bastard, and Sir Pent is one of the most naive characters in the show. He takes a lot of things way too literally (#autism?). That's just PERFECT for comedic misunderstandings between these two!

Before s1 was released there were quite a lot of ace!Pentious headcanons. I think we could still make a case for closeted ace-adjacent!Pentious in canon! Possibility even aroace!Pentious, if we interpret his crush on Cherri as compulsive heteronormativity (he loves her creative genius and is fascinated by her explosive contraptions; surely that means she's the one, right?)

Ace4Ace Alastor & Pentious would be a fun duo in my opinion. They could bond over their shared experience

On the topic of bonding... ("I have feelings for you" (Narrator voice: the feeling was friendship, but he had ever experienced it before)

Seriously, imagine Sir Pentious spending more and more time around Alastor because of the hotel, taking his sarcastic and mocking remarks literally and thinking they're becoming closer... And then being like. WAIT. Do I have feelings for him?? and trying to seduce him like he does with Cherri Bomb. The absolute shenanigans... Rizzlord Pentious strikes again.

Accidental fake dating scenario that only exists in Vox's head, where Vox, being the stalker that he is, spies in the two of them bonding and reaches all the wrong conclusions

Once Sir Pentious dies for the second time and ascends to Heaven, he could meet Alastor's mom 👀

EDIT: OH and How could I forget the Egg Boiz?? Egg Boiz babysitter!Alastor is canon and he definitely babysat them multiple times in the few months Sir Pentious spent at the hotel. Joint custody :3

AND let's not forget the important information that Frank the Egg Boy reported to Sir Pentious lol. The one Charlie made a deal with Alastor for. I can imagine Alastor considering killing the Egg Boiz/ Sir Pentious after learning Frank didn't keep quiet (Imagine Sir Pentious trying to engage in a conversation w/ Alastor and telling him what Frank told him as a joke akfkkd), spending a whole afternoon trailing after them and making plans, only to realise that the Egg Boiz say insane shit all the time and Sir Pentious was in fact NOT playing 4D chess by telling him he knew (and probably already forgot all about it)

[gildedoak]

SOUTHERN COMFORT FOOD SIDE STORY - CIDER

Happy Halloween everyone! Apple cider is one of my personal fall favorites.

Season two of SCF is in the works, but it’ll be a bit before it gets posted. In the meantime, there are few more side stories that will tie into the new comic series!

Also I have a bunch of other projects going on that I’m excited to share with you! More coming soon!

[a-h-li]

Introducing: the DND Hazbin AU!!!

Sue me some of these classes and races are homebrewed…

Background: for board game night, the subject of DND comes up and Vaggie reveals that she was kind of a nerd while she was alive. She’s a bit self conscious about it but?? Charlie has heard her talk about it before and has wanted to play for ages but they haven’t had a group of people to play with. In a way it’s genius because. Dnd is basically an ultimate team bonding exercise; there’s a lot of empathy and problem solving involved…Vaggie is convinced to give a crash course on the rules, prints out a couple of character sheets, and the rest of the hotel (as per first character creations usually go) basically create themselves as their characters 💀.

Campaign summary: the world is set in a high fantasy adjacent of hell, where Charlie is dead broke and has 0 means raising money for a hotel to redeem the sinners of this realm. With the rest of her party, they set off from avernus (the top ring of the nine hells of Baator ) to Nessus (the deepest ring), where Lucifer has isolated himself within a securely guarded fortress. She intends to ask him to get an audience with heaven to plead her cause.

Team Comp: So the tank for this team is definitely Vaggie, with Charlie and Husk as the support + healers, nifty as a front line damage dealer, Pentious, Alastor, and Angel as long distance damage dealers. To balance out this team maybe Charlie multiclasses to a barbarian down the line??

[velvet-games]

revisiting old designs

last three are unfinished — saphone and therese are actually OCs now but they started as alastor redesigns

also the way I draw her is hella inconsistent so I definitely missed a lot of smaller changes lol

will make a bigger post soon about thérèse 👍

other saphone concept:

kind of a hades/persephone-adjacent story? but also completely not at the same time lmao. themes of girlbossery and the unique dynamic non-sentient companions have with neurodivergent people may be included.

[classificationhell]

How would alastor or ethier lucifers handle their little darling refusing to call them daddy?

With Alastor, it depends on the reason. In the fic I am currently writing, the Reader is going to be calling him Papa because they have bad associations with the word Daddy. With Alastor, as long as you call him something with an air of respect to it, even Sir or Mister will work in the beginning though he'll want it to change as you get more comfortable with him, he doesn't really care. However, they absolutely refuse to call him anything or treat him with disrespect, well being in hell they certainly didn't learn to fear the wrath of god but they're gonna have the fear of the wrath of Alastor burned into their backside when he makes them go pick out a switch. As I've mentioned before he's old school and believes firmly that things like disrespect have to be dealt with swiftly and harshly to nip them in the bud. Of course, he will give them three warnings to call him by a proper title before he does this so really it is their fault for not listening.

Mourningstar is absolutely head over heels for his baby girl, but believe me when I say you don't want to ruin his fantasy.

He won't hurt his baby girl, but he will get progressively more and more desperate to hear that magic word from them. He won't notice they aren't calling him Daddy, his delusion is that strong, they'll have to actively deny that he is their Daddy and he is devastated. If it goes on longer than a week he's doing everything he can think of, if that doesn't work he starts looking for where to place blame, because his darling little princess can do no wrong. It must be those damned sinners! He doesn't know how they did it but he knows they must have turned them against him. Oh don't worry princess Daddy will slaughter every single one of them and eventually their brainwashing will fade away and his darling little princess will call him Daddy again (they never did but he's so delusional he is convinced that they did before that day they said he wasn't their Daddy).

Normal Lucifer is just kinda depressed about it. He tries everything he can to show them he loves them and wants to care for them. He won't directly ask for it but will hint that he really really wants that, "Oh look at that cannibal family that little girl just said I love you Daddy isn't that the absolute sweetest thing you ever saw?" Charlie will outright tell you it's what he wants, but that you don't have to if your uncomfortable with it. If you have your reasons and explain them he won't mind. He wants you to be comfortable more than anything but maybe in that case could you give him a special nickname instead?

[tayraedoll]

Drag Me to Hell

You purchase an old radio at an antique store that turns out to be haunted as fuck. Will you successfully banish the demon back to hell before he can take you with him? Just to be safe MDNI 18+ Only!

So I meant to write this as a one-shot but it quickly got away from me so now it is a full, multi-chapter fic. What can I say? I have lost all control of my life...

TW: Horror, Alastor is his own warning, blood, gore, swearing, crude and dark humor, hallucinations, reader is not an exorcist expert- don't try this at home, more tags to be added as the story progresses.

Part 2

"Do we really have to go in?", you whine to your best friend Kate, scrunching your nose in disgust at the literal shack with a rusty, old "Antiques" sign.

Kate giggles at your antics,"Oh come on; it'll be fun! Who knows what treasures we might find?" She grabs your arm and pulls you through the door behind her; the little bell atop the door chimes merrily to signal your entrance. You look around, as far as you were concerned there was junk piled high in every direction. Taking stock of the room you were in you notice old Coke bottles, cigar boxes, a china cabinet filled with those creepy ass 'Precious Moments' figurines, and a shit ton of clothes that were even too outdated for your grandmother to wear.

"You're counting literal trash as treasure now? That explains your dating history", you deadpan at your friend.

"Bitch I said we MIGHT find treasure! But you gotta dig through the dirt to reach it first", Kate rolls her eyes at you but smiles at your jab. Gentle bullying was just how you showed each other your love. She walks further into the store, perusing through all the trinkets on the shelves. You follow after her, trying your best to not make eye contact with those Precious Moments dolls whose eyes seemed to follow you as you pass by.

You enter an adjacent room, this one filled with tin cooking instruments in varying degrees of disrepair. A portly, older gentleman with greying hair sat behind a register with a large tabby cat on the table. The cat lets out a loud yowl at the pair of you but the man says nothing as he watches you carefully in case you try to steal anything. 'What in here is even worth stealing?' you think to yourself. You smile at him politely and quickly move onto the next room, this one filled with old toys...yikes.

"So how do you know when you find "treasure?", you ask, using your fingers to put air quotations around the word treasure. Kate picks up a particularly disturbing looking baby doll and wiggles it in front of your face.

"When you find something you just can't leave without!", she laughs as you flinch back, glaring at her- you had told her your hatred of dolls in good faith and here she was using that information against you. She places the demonic toy back on the shelf and you give it another glare for good measure- not today Annabelle.

The next area was only slightly less disturbing; it looked like a middle-aged housewife was allowed to decorate it with all the "Live, Laugh, Love" and "Wine a Little, Laugh A Lot" signs all around. "Jesus Fucking Christ does this place never end?! It didn't look this big from outside!", you exclaim in exasperation. Kate carded through a stack of pictures and paintings.

"Perhaps if you actually looked for something that strikes your fancy you'd have a better time", she absentmindedly replied. You sigh but raise your hands in surrender, she had a point there. You make your way to the back, knowing nothing in this basic Karen of a room was going to please you.

When you reach the next room your eyes light up,"A ha! Now this room is interesting!", you call back to Kate. It was a music-themed room full of old records, CD's, posters, and stereos. As a music major in college you felt your heart soar at the sight of all the little pieces of music history surrounding you. You immediately dig into the records, wondering if you could find something new for your collection that was in decent shape. Maybe it was old school of you, but nothing beat the crisp sound of a record; records made you feel like the music was surrounding you, like you could see and taste the notes making it a full-body sensory experience.

Kate joins you, letting out a curt laugh,"I should have guessed it would be a music room." Your frown slightly as you reach the end of the records without finding anything of note for your collection. You sigh heavily at the disappointment that fills your chest.

"Too bad this room turned out to be a du-", you trail off as you catch sight of it. On the top shelf at the far end of the room sat an ornate, antique radio. It was cathedral-shaped, made of a dark- almost black- wood, the face painted a bright crimson. The speakers resembled a throne and below the control panel were large, yellow slices that resembled flames...or a very creepy smile. You gently plucked the fragile-looking radio from the shelf; it was a lot sturdier than it looked, feeling pretty hefty in your hands. You turn it around in your hands, it appeared to be battery-powered like most radios were prior to the 1930's. You wondered if it would work today.

"Find something interesting?", Kate asked beside you. She made a face at the old radio, "No offense but that thing is creepy AF!"

"It is no creepier than that doll earlier!", you defend your unique find. "I think I'll purchase it", you state with finality and make your way back to the front. The old man speaks little more than just to tell you your total cost, the cat joining him as they stare at you distrustfully. 'Jeez, cranky old coot', you think.

Back at your home you tinker around with the radio, polishing it up a bit and adding some new batteries. Your home was small, just a 1-bedroom and bathroom place that you were renting on the outskirts of New Orleans. You decorated modestly, a bookshelf with your favorite novels and records took up an entire wall of your small living room. The TV was small and pushed into a corner, you really only used it for background noise most days. You had one small but comfortable couch that you mostly used to work on. You were a writer for OffBeat, New Orleans' local music magazine. It was a great gig that let you work from home, even if you weren't compensated the best being a new writer on the team. You spent most of your days writing about Jazz and The Blues, local concerts and events coming up, and interviewing rising artists.

You placed the radio up on top of your bookshelf, you'd try to get it to work tomorrow. As you were pushing it back onto the shelf you felt a sharp sting in your finger, "Ah! Fuck!", you exclaim as you quickly pull your finger back. You inspect it, finding a drop of blood leaking out of your skin; you must have accidentally cut yourself on one of the yellow ornamental parts. You raise your bleeding finger to your lips and gently suck the small wound to soothe it. Sparing one last glance up to the radio, you turn off the light and head to bed.

Completely missing how the smile of the radio that just bit into you started to eerily glow in the dark after you.