#Alastor has a panic attack RIP

[mydeerfellow]

Ye Mighty, Lay Down Your Arms

synopsis:

Rosie, as a professional fixer-upper, just wants to fix up Alastor. Inside AND out. Alastor just wants a few stitches, not the Spanish Inquisition. Vox just wants to play N64

AO3 link

It took a special sort of stupidity to cross into the Cannibal Colony with an open wound, where even the youngest child had a nose as good as any dog, and the populace was prone to swarming any potential meal. Yet, Alastor didn’t have much choice, and so he hurried his pace as well as he could without spraying blood everywhere, which would be problematic on a number of levels.

Truthfully, the wound itself was something Alastor probably could have handled on his own with a mirror and steady hands. The problem was his current lack of steady hands, and the fact that he couldn’t look at the damage without hearing his own heart pounding in his ears.

The problem was that Alastor did not want to be alone at the moment, but he also didn’t want to put on airs for the rest of the night in front of a group of ecstatic fools.

He needed to exist without a facade for a few hours to lick his wounds and compose himself, and for that, he needed Rosie.

“Ugh, I smelled you coming from half a mile. What are you doing, walking in the rain? You and the drama, I swear.” The door opened before Alastor had reached it, and he didn’t protest when he was hauled into the darkened emporium by the elbow, then led diligently up to the living quarters above. “In, in, come on. Take off your jacket, I’ll get it cleaned.” He was herded through the familiar-feeling kitchen and straight into the bathroom, catching a glimpse of some fresh hands sitting half-chopped next to a stock pot. “Now, don’t be a baby.” Rosie scolded preemptively.

Alastor tried to ask why, but he was interrupted when she yanked his dress shirt off his skin, peeling the half-dry blood that had been holding things together. He uttered a muffled shout and pulled back, which apparently fit Rosie’s definition of a baby, based on her thunderous expression.

Defeated without a word, Alastor sat on the edge of the old-style tub, balancing a bit precariously on the rim of it. He stared at the ceiling, practically relishing in dropping the act, even for an hour. Of course he continued to smile, but it was flat and unaffected. After a few seconds, he blinked hard and refocused on Rosie. “Hello.” He laughed sheepishly.

“Hello to you, sweetheart!” She replied warmly, raising her brows. “I guess it all worked out in the end, didn’t it?” As always, Rosie didn’t pry, even though she was clearly interested and had a stake in the whole venture. Alastor loved her for it.

Alastor flexed his fingers and uttered a laugh that was more of a heavy tsk. “It did, as far as I can tell. I had hoped it would.” He replied curtly, uncomfortably aware that even his voice was flat and tired. The radio effect was too hard to keep up when his body was trying to stitch itself back together and the primary catalyst of his power was in pieces.

“Alastor, darling, only you would pick a fight with an angel and have the absolute gall to come back alive and still cry about not winning.” Rosie laughed. “Is that all this is? Embarrassment?” She poked playfully, and Alastor felt his ire rising like a viper, catching a light in his eyes even as he caught himself before snapping at Rosie, who stilled immediately. She gave a sympathetic smile. “Not just that, then. Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?”

Both were plausible, because Rosie was better at putting feelings into words than Alastor was. Whenever he tried, he ended up flustered, or trying desperately to dance around talking about the actual issue.

“I can’ttell you.” Alastor said flatly. There was a crack in the ceiling that was going to drive him to madness.

Rosie tutted. “Ugh, of course you can’t. Always with the secrets. And the mystery.”

There was a fork in the road that Alastor hadn’t anticipated. He had the opportunity to blissfully brush Rosie’s questions off as he usually did, allowing her to believe it was simply for the sake of drama. Or this was one of the few opportunities he would ever get to confide… withoutconfiding at all, thus maintaining the damnable deal. “I can’t tell you.” He repeated.

“Yes, you said that.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“I know, sweethe— oh.” He didn’t bother looking at her face, mostly because he didn’t want to see her expression. It was humiliating enough for the knowledge to be shared at all. “Oh, I see.” There was a rustle of fabric and then Rosie was sitting beside him on the edge of the tub. “Well, let’s address what we can fix, shall we? No sense crying over spilled blood.” She tutted, taking in the ugly wound. Most of the bruising on his back and shoulders had faded to sickly yellow skin, but the open wound was still festering, bleeding in spots.

Alastor sensed that Rosie was on the cusp of saying something else before she reconsidered and merely set about pouring hot water into a shallow dish, muttering something about her sewing kit. That was what he liked best about Rosie - she was smart enough to glean what she needed to know from what Alastor was willing to say, and she was, unlike most, content with her answers rarely being answered directly. “You know, you won’t like hearing this, but you really are lucky you didn’t end up in two very cute pieces.” Rosie pointed out, moseying around the overlarge bathroom, which was so unnecessarily decadent it was nearly comical. She started to rummage in a cabinet on the far side of the room. “Lucky for you, I always stock up before Exterminations.” She canted her head with a beaming smile, brandishing several small mason jars.

“I know.” He smiled back, feeling slightly relieved already by the weight off his shoulders, knowing there was at least one person aware of his predicament. “I’m surprised your contact is still alive.” Alastor admitted with some interest, taking the first jar from her and sniffing it. The paste inside was pungent, but distinctly fresh-smelling, and when he scooped some out, it was a pleasant forest green color. It stung the shit out of his chest when he applied it, but Alastor knew better than to doubt anything Rosie advised.

“Oh, no! The first one’s been dead for years, darling. Ugh, bless him. Frederick. Sweet boy, very tender.” Rosie corrected with a hoot of laughter. “If you paid any attention to politics outside the Pentagram, you’d know that plenty of hellborn demons are happy to help!” She held out the second jar, which smelled like the ocean… or as close to it as Alastor could remember. “They’re always flicking back and forth to Earth anyway, so it’s not hard for them to pick up some ingredients! Especially hellhounds - their noses are perfect for this kind of thing.” She noticed the way Alastor’s lips curled at the mention of hellhounds and absently slapped the back of his hand. “Oh stop. Keep your biases to yourself.”

Alastor rolled his eyes but didn’t reply, because Rosie was correct and it was a personal bias that kept him from wanting anything to do with hellhounds. Alastor didn’t like the way they looked, or the way they smelled, or the way they sometimes made doggish sounds when he least expected it. “Are you not going to pry even a little?” He asked instead, sounding amused.

“Would that make you feel better?”

“Not particularly.”

“Would you be able to answer anythingI asked.”

“Probably not.”

“Well, then that answers your question!” Rosie chirped, clapping her hands down on her lap as she sat next to him again. “I do wonder what in hell would possess you to do something so stupid, but…” She patted his shoulder fondly, and Alastor had no desire to rip out her throat for touching his bare skin. In fact, he amiably leaned into her side. “Well, stupid is as stupid does, as I always say! You’ve always got your reasons, even if they’re shit.” Rosie chuckled, then gently squeezed him against her side in a loose hug. “I suppose the only real question that matters is if you’re okay.”

Alastor was abruptly brought back to his first meeting with Rosie, when he’d been in Hell less than a week and practically crawling between hunger and pain, having stumbled from one bad situation to the next for days on end. Frankly, Alastor attributed much of his current success to Rosie’s kindness in those first months when he had nothing to offer her and she still chose to house him and feed him.

Rosie was good. Rosie had his trust.

“No.” He admitted softly, after enough time had passed that Rosie looked surprised. “No.” Alastor shook his head, feeling his heart speeding up and starting to skip a beat or two along the way. “I don’t want to die.” He elaborated in a high, panicky tone, dragging a hand through his hair as his ears flattened against his scalp. The room felt small and airless. Wasn’t there a window in here? Why was it so hot? “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be at a disadvantage every single time.” Alastor added, speaking faster as his panic finally caught up with him, feeling like he had a knot tied around his throat, cutting off his breath. “I’m weak like this! I’m— they— I don’t need—” His voice crackled with interference and his eyes took turns ticking.

Rosie, who knew what to do in every situation, patted his hand calmly and was content to sit and wait as seconds crackled by. Eventually, when she seemed sure he wouldn’t sprint out of the room like a hunted animal, Rosie spoke up. “Well… I think that’s the risk you took, sweetheart, doing what you did. Aw, now don’t look at me like that.” She tutted when he wheeled on her with unprocessed anger brewing in his face. “I’m not saying what you’re feeling is wrong! It’s not! You think you’re the only one who’s probably scared to death with all this going on? Hah. Honey, please.”

“I’m weak.” He repeated hoarsely.

“To who? Some two thousand year old angel? Honey, we’re all weak next to that!” Rosie chided gently. “Or do you mean your deal?”

He couldn’t confirm it even if he wanted to, but his sullen look seemed to speak volumes.

“Hmm. Well, I guess that’s a little trickier…” Rosie sighed, standing up and pulling a small stool over from the corner so she could sit in front of Alastor. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” He said tightly, lifting his chin so she could start sewing his skin together without his nose in the way. He sighed at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I can’t find a backdoor.”

“Mm, well, you know what they say: Every deal’s got a backdoor.” Rosie reminded him as she set to work. “I’m sure yours is no different. You just need to find it.”

Alastor winced at the first poke of the needle. “And what if there is no backdoor?” He wondered bleakly.

“Then you’re stuck, and you might as well learn to live with it.” Rosie laughed. “Not what you wanna hear, I know, but you could be doing worse for yourself, Alastor. Look where you are. Who you’re there with!” The needle dipped a little deeper than before and he hissed softly. Rosie didn’t seem to care as she chattered on. “That Charlie’s a little peach! A bit naive, maybe, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Stick with her, and I think it’ll work out.”

Alastor sighed, because Rosie was right (as usual), but that didn’t make her advice any less grating on his nerves. “Well, at least that won’t be a struggle” He muttered bitterly, then dragged a hand through his hair again, anxiously mussing his ears. “Maybe.” Alastor added as a brooding afterthought, knowing better than to try predicting the mind of any demon besides himself. The one holding his leash could change their mind on a whim, and he wouldn’t have any say in the matter.

Rosie hummed thoughtfully as she knotted the last stitch and nipped off the thread. “I see.” She suddenly had a third jar of something-or-other in her hand and dabbed it on the stitching. It smelled spicy. Foreign. It made Alastor think of some far-flung desert. “It’s interesting that you would say it like that.” Rosie laughed softly, taking his hand in hers before Alastor could think to pull away. “It’s so odd to see you worried. You really are fond of that little hotel, aren’t you?”

He immediately bristled, taking offense at the suggestion that he was blinded by misplaced affection for a plan that was, at best, wildly unrealistic. Alastor tried to yank his hand away, but Rosie had a grip of iron when she wanted, and he had a better chance of cutting his hand off than getting it back from her. “Oh stop, sweetheart. You’re so dramatic!” Rosie sighed irritably. “I wasn’t insulting you, so you can put your incorrigible male pride away for the time being. It’s not a sin to be fond of people you live with!”

“I’m not—”

“Dear.”

“I do not—”

“Darling.”

“I just—”

“Sweetie-Pie.”

“I’ve never—”

“Alastor.” He looked up at her sudden shift in tone. “Shut up, honey. You know how much I hate it when you lie. It’s an insult to our friendship.” Her smile was an unpleasant, jagged, and anxiety-inducing thing. Alastor deflated rapidly, ears flat against his head and shoulders sinking. “Thank you, sweetie.” She patted his shoulder warmly. “I think we’ve got you about as patched up as you’ll ever be.” She added as an afterthought, standing up and wandering out of the bathroom for a few moments, giving Alastor a chance to catch his breath, eyes pinched shut and expression pained by more than just the searing wound on his chest. Out in the main room, Rosie was talking (mainly to herself) about how happy she was to help.

“Of course, there isn’t much I can do for your silly little stick.” Rosie was still chattering away as she came back with his shirt and jacket, both meticulously cleaned.

“I didn’t expect you to.” Alastor laughed curtly as he pulled on his dress shirt, grimacing when the stitches strained against flesh. “That’s the next stop.”

“Well, best to get it all over with in one fell swoop, isn’t that right? No need to drag out your own suffering.”

Alastor shuffled his arms into his jacket, adjusting his clothes until he felt presentable enough to leave the sanctity of Rosie’s luxurious bathroom. “Oh, I don’t know. I imagine it’s going to be dragged out whether I like it or not.” He raised his brows at her significantly and she had the decency to at least appear sympathetic. “I continue to suffer for the fact that I have ever agreed to any deals.” He couldn’t help whining one last time as he was shuffled towards the door.

“Oh stop. It’s what, twelve hours? You can handle that! Look at you! You survived an angel, I think you can handle a television.” Rosie pulled him into a tight hug that Alastor reciprocated after a pause. “The door’s always open if you need it. Tell Vox I sent him kisses.” She added cheerfully.

Alastor grimaced. “See you in twelve hours.” He muttered, sucking in a long-suffering breath as he nudged open the door with his hip and slipped out onto the street, begrudgingly making eye contact with the stupid drone that was eagerly floating around in the pissing rain, one red light flashing rhythmically, just in case he needed even more confirmation that Vox was being, as the children would say, a fucking creeper.

“Well, you’re going to have to wait. I’m not tolerating you until I’ve eaten.” Alastor bared his teeth at the floating camera in what was more a snarl than a smile. “And I am not going to that ludicrous eyesore of a tower.” The drone, of course, didn’t speak, but Alastor was more than capable of having a one-sided argument with the fool on the other side of the camera. “You maycome to the hotel in one hour. Assess the damage and we can go from there.” He pinched the bridge of his nose irritably, unable to fully comprehend that he was still forced to adhere to a deal he’d agreed to almost sixty years ago.

Frankly, the fact that Vox still held onto it was pathetic… though Alastor had togrudgingly admit that he had no idea what he would do if he was left to his own devices with the tangle of wire and magic that was his microphone.

“You can go now.” He waved his hand at the drone, which made an unbearably happy trill with its motor as it followed him down the street. “Do you think I’ve forgotten how this works? You fix my cane and I go along with whatever absolute idiocy youforce upon me for twelve hours.” Alastor pointed angrily at the drone, which continued whirring cheerfully until a tendril of darkness crawled around it, sending it clattering onto the pavement. “That twelve hours starts when I say it does. Not when you feel most aggravating.” The drone blinked a few more times as the tentacle overcame its sensors and Alastor’s shape started to morph into something lanky and dark. “You may come to the hotel in one hour. Any earlier than that and ł’ⱠⱠ ₥₳₭Ɇ ɎØɄ ⱤɆ₲ⱤɆ₮ ł₮.” He snapped his teeth at the drone just before it disappeared into the void, then pulled back with an aggrieved sigh, losing all his ponce and drama immediately.

It was going to be a very long night.

[monimccoythings]

Alastor x Daughter!Reader III (Platonic)

Yeah, this is going to take place after the end of season 1, just after Sir Pentious has ascended and the hotel has been rebuilt into a bigger better version. I just don't know how to fit Y/N in season 1.

Reminder: Alastor is in Hell for a reason.

TW: This contains a very delicate matter, like PTSD and panic attacks, even though I wanted to keep it brief because I'm not very well versed in these kind of subjects and wanted to be careful and respectful with it, I'm not entirely satisfied with how I wrote it, I researched and looked into my past experiences, but still don't think I truly adapted it as best as I would have liked. Also several mentions of cannibalism. Brief mentions of controlling behavior.

This isn't proof read so sorry for any grammar and/or vocabulary mistakes.

Part I ｜Part II｜Part III (You are here!)

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog

Soft jazz music enveloped the room, accompained by a strong smell of coffee and magnolias, someone was humming quietly to the music. Somehow, it reminded you of home.

You blinked groggily, trying to get the sleep away from your eyes, and leaned on your elbow. Why was the ground so soft and cushioned?

Yor eyes shot wide open when you remebered the events that led you there. The blood, the laughter, the eyes, the smile, the radio static... Your heart started beating wildly inside your ribcage, and you suddenly found yourself gasping for air. You clutched your old dress, hoping that would alleviate the growing pressure in your chest in some way.

"Well, look who's finally awake!" Alastor left the newspaper on the table and turned towards you, if his grin was supposed to be comforting it was not working. Just the fact that he was acting so casual, as if nothing had happened in the last ninety years made everything a million times worse.

"You are quite the hide and seek champion, ma petite faon. It took several years for my shadows to casually find you and then it took even longer for me to believe you actually had been sent here, ha ha!" His neck bended in an unnatural way as he laughed.

Crap. Did he always know where you were? Was this just a game of cat and mouse for him?

As if he had read your mind, his eyes adopted a more relaxed expression that did nothing to soothe your nerves. "Well, for the last ten years you gave me quite the chase, cher. Always on the move, never stopping, from one part of the ring to the other. And then there's that seven year gap." He muttered to himself that last part.

You still felt on the verge of a panic attack. Your body couldn't and wouldn't stop shaking, and felt like reality was blurring around you. Everything was happening too fast, it brought you back to that night decades ago when you found that your beloved father had actually been a serial killer. It almost felt like it was mere minutes ago.

Alastor knew of your discomfort, your fear. He could see it as clear as a day, he could almost taste it. He had always enjoyed tasting the fear on his victims, but yours only left an aftertaste of bitterness in his mouth. It was rotten, putrid and nauseating. Maybe because it was the only fear he should never had a taste of. Watching you like this also brought him back to the night he lost you.

As he held your unmoving body in his arms, for a couple of seconds his brain stopped functioning, unable to accept what had just happened. The pain he felt was just like someone had ripped his chest open and pulled out his still beating heart, only to crush it, leaving an empty and cold hole in its place.

He had taken you to your room and laid you in the bed, tucking you in. You looked so peaceful, if your face and clothes weren't stained with blood he would have believed you were sleeping. But you would never wake up again.

The next couple of days passed in a blur, tracking down the man who had dared to do this to you and then run away, and giving him his fair punishment. And as he dragged his mutilated body through the forest... Well... the rest is history.

"Anyways! All's well that ends well! Now I found you, and you won't need to worry anymore!" His chirpy radio filtered voice portrayed some genuine happiness that didn't reach you. The bond and trust that used to tie you two together, had been damaged beyond repair. And Alastor knew. That didn't mean he was going to give up, though.

Before he had the chance to make things even more awkward between you two, the door bursted open, revealing several people behind it.

"Oh, you're awake, that's so great! We were all sooo worried since Al suddenly brought you here, and you seemed passed out, we didn't know if you were alive or-" The blonde haired demon kept rambling, but you barely listened to her, way too much in shock. Behind her, there was a bunch of demons: a winged cat who would be rather doing anything else than be there, a tiny cyclops with a psychotic and perky smile; a spider demon who, if anything, looked confused; a taller cyclops demon girl who found the dirt in her nails to be way more interesting than you, and some kind of moth demon girl? You wondered if they all were going to participate in your slaughter or were just going to watch.

"-aaaand who were you again?" The blonde demon asked with an awkward smile.

"I'm very glad you're asking! Because this is no other than my beloved little girl!" Alastor opened his arms widely in a dramatic form of presentation as the sound effect of a studio crowd cheering mixed with his voice.

"Wha- hold the fuck up? Your daughter??? Didn't you sing to Luci-?"

One glare full of murderous intention and loud static was enough for the spider demon to shut up.

"Now, now, how about we let the newest addition to our merry little band have a well deserved rest." Your dad not so gently pushed the uninvited guests back towards the door.

"Addition? Is she our new guest?" The moth-like demon girl asked.

Alastor's face darkened and loud static filled the room. "A҉b҉s҉o҉l҉u҉t҉e҉l҉y҉ ҉n҉o҉t҉.҉". He swapped back to his more charming persona. "She'll be joining our facility as an assistant!" His tone admitted no further questioning, and, quite reluctantly, the staff and guests left the room.

So that's the story about how you ended working in the Hazbin Hotel.

Your work was mainly small chores or helping others. Nifty needed help to clean the rooms? You were there. Someone needed you to take cover at the reception? On it. Whatever tiny task someone needed help with, you had to do it.

You were not allowed to leave the hotel. Alastor made sure of that. Wherever you went, he made sure some of his shadows followed if he was not around, just to keep you controlled; although he'd rather call it, 'lovingly checking on his little baby'. It really was not needed, even if you didn't trust nobody there and your guard was still up, where else would you go? It was literal hell outside.

Years of hiding and living in constant fear of death or something worse had left you extremely mistrustful and fearful of people. There were times were you believed this was all a ruse to lure you into a false sense of security and then hit you were it hurt most.

It's not like you didn't believe in Charlie's dream, it was just you couldn't believe it could be possible, your father had very sincerely stated that he was just sponsoring it because he loved watching doomed souls struggle to achieve something meaningful and then fail spectacularly. Of course he did.

So, at least you had a roof over your head, enough food to eat, and a no-killing rule inside the hotel. Things could be worse.

Yet, there was still something inside you, something that you so desperately tried to let go but were unable to, as it had rooted itself deeply inside your mind and heart.

It started with small things, maybe a loud sound, maybe a bit of blood, it didn't matter because you could already feel yourself breathing heavily and sweating. It was like the entire world vanished around you. You couldn't breath, you couldn't think, your mind was on edge and your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You were completely paralized with fear, your hands shaking furiously, making you drop whatever you were holding.

These episodes started becoming more and more frequent, the more you tried to fight against them, the stronger they became. Whenever Charlie, Vaggie or any guest tried to ask you about them you always tried to brush them off, not wanting them to see it as a weak spot to exploit.

After several episodes and you refusing to open yourself, Alastor had enough of watching you suffer and decided to take matters into his own hands. So, he took you to Rosie.

If you expected something out of a place called 'Cannibal Town' it certainly wasn't that. It looked so... normal, like any other town you would have found back in your time. Well, if you ignored the people eating an entire corspe on the street. Your father gently moved your face to face front, because apparently it was rude to stare.

Oh Rosie immediately adored you. 100% godmother material. That southern belle couldn't wait to pamper you and dress you up in all kinds of fancy clothes.

Talking to Rosie was surprisingly, easy, if you looked over her cannibalistic tendencies. She kindly offered you some fresh fingers, but quickly backed up when she saw you turning green, jokingly saying "Ah, teenagers and their diets."

Sessions with Rosie always left you crying and drained but in a positive way, you felt like a huge load had been lifted off your shoulders. It may be a long road ahead but it was a great start.

Talking to Vaggie also helped. Turns out being a former exterminator had left not only physical but psychological scars on her. The first months after she had been left to die in hell had also been very struggling for her. She helped you with breathing exercises, held your hands when they started shaking, and even was willing to teach you some self defence. Which your dad opposed to.

Charlie was... Charlie, always positive and upbribing but also respecting your boundaries, you were almost starting to belive she was being genuine.

There was another member of the staff who had not been present when you were first brought there and you had yet to meet. The King of Hell himself, Lucifer. Just knowing he could be there send shivers down your spine, wondering what kind of diabolical entity could he be. When you first saw that 4' overly excited manchild, at first you thought it was a joke.

Lucifer took a liking to you pretty easily, much to the annoyance of Alastor. He was curious about how someone as innocent and young as you could have ended in a place like that and vowed to protect you if someone ever gave you trouble. Your dad is seething. "Here, take this." And he just gives you a toy duck who backflips and makes the cutest rubber ducky noise. You loved it. Your dad is about to break the no-killing rule.

Alastor tried to win back your trust and love, even if he knew it was going to be a long and arduous task. He didn't care. He just got you back he was never letting you go.

He may not believe entirely in Charlie's dream, but he knew that if it was possible the one who had more chances to go straight to Heaven would be you. And he was not having that.

Alastor briefly considered making a deal to own your soul, just to ensure your safety and his control.

Up to this day he still doesn't know how you ended down there, and can't wait for the day when you will trust him enough to tell him.

He will respect your boundaries begrudgingly, he is your dad, he knows best. Will play nice and let you take your time with things. He will quietly show support for your emotional progress and make light physical contact, just enough to be supportive and not freak you out.

He cooks for you, and only you. The old homemade grandma's recipes he used to make back in your living times. At first, you didn't trust it, thinking he could have poisoned it. But the second you tasted his Jambalaya you felt like crying. Not only because after ninety years barely eating you were famished, but because for a couple of seconds, something there in the taste and smell had brought you back to simpler times. (like the Ratatouille guy)

Alastor truly desires to hear you call him 'Dad' again, you had yet to do so. Yes, you recognise him as your father, but after everything it just pains you to address him as such. It's like your dad and Alastor were two separate people. The loving father vs the serial killer, the guardian vs the Radio Demon.

He really loves you very much and it's been hard on him to keep that much distance from his little fawn. So he takes out his frustration on others, don't turn the radio on when he tells you not to.

And with time, his efforts were rewarded. Somewhat. You seemed to have gotten a bit more comfortably around him, at least you didn't flinch or recoil anytime he approached you. But you couldn't forget, you couldn't overlook the fact that he was a murderer and a cannibal and still doubted if anything you two had lived together had been truly genuine.

Honestly, it offended him that you would even think that way. Wasn't he there for you, always? Didn't he protect you from the darkness of the outside world during your living times? Wasn't he, as a father, devoted enough to his fawn?

But of course, actions spoke louder than words, and his actions had left too many cracks in your trust. But he will keep trying to win you back. Alastor's very patient demon, he has all the time in the world.

Y̸̗͉̺̱͂̕o̸̧̯̞̟̰̪̗̱̳̱̎̈̿̄̄͛̅͝͝û̴̦͔̹͈̣̥̾͛͑͗͋̅̏̂̚ͅ ̷̭͋̈͛̽͒̅̀̈́́̚ă̷̅̇̃͌̿̕��̢̢̖̦͕̞͚͔̻̳̄̃r̵̨̢̺̦͇͚̙̈́̅̽́̊͠ę̶̺̖͋̐͐͌͘͠͝ ̶̖̲͎̜̮͚͉̰̒n̵̢͕̝͖̗̜̣̾̾̇̾̅̽͊͘ǫ̴̼̺̠̱̦̘̒̈̎̿̇́̔̉t̴͙͇̼̱̻̦̦͔̖͙̍͌ ̸̩̂́̎͒͘g̶͔͚̰̺͔͉͓͍͔̈́̽̈́͋͘͜o̵̹͔̫͚̼͚͒͑į̷̧̫͔̹͉̰̘̮̍͋͒̈n̸̢͕̙̙̞͔̓͐̓ͅg̵͖͇̜͚̗͙̤̫̱̝̉̂́̚ ̴̪̂͑̓̊͛a̷̖̞͊̄̈́͑͋̈́̄͘n̶̻̟̙̝̪̩͂̋͗ẏ̸̨̛̱̱͇̱͖̤͕̥͛́̍̂͛̕͠w̸̛̖͎̫̑h̵͔̝̣̀ẹ̵̝͍̳̟͚̪̍̒͋̒̀̊̏r̷̨͉͉̒̑̉̒̄̎̓̎͜͝͠ȅ̸̩͇̳.̵̠̪̖̍͂͠.

[nunalastor]

Lucifer is doing far too much work, which is bad because the quality of his work is unacceptable. And he's encroaching on Alastor's duties as hotelier! Is Lucifer's title 'hotelier?' No, no it is not.

But the bastard sure is acting like it.

And he knows what he's doing; it's blatant in the way he always sends a shit eating grin over his shoulder every time. So, Alastor is in the right to retaliate.

It quite easy, truly. All he has to do is mention to Charlie just how much work the king has been doing for the past few months. Really, he even built a whole building from scratch! Surely his little mind is overworked.

Charlie was very quick to gently force her father into a two week vacation.

And Lucifer is not happy about it. Well- yes, he's happy that his daughter cares enough to do this, but he doesn't appreciate how that deer freak manipulated her into it.

So, he's in the right to return the favor. It's pretty easy; all he has to do is remind everyone of the fact that Alastor was dealing with a pretty nasty injury just a short few months ago. Should be really be overworking himself so much? Plus, isn't he a 'big scary overlord?' He probably has a bunch of other business to deal with alongside his hotelier duties.

Alastor was put on a three week vacation.

And this little game continues on. Because neither will let the other present them as weak, and they certainly will not let the other make them obsolete under their own roof.

It has nothing to do with that time Alastor found the king having a panic attack in the library. Or when Lucifer caught a glimpse of Alastor literally ripping his hair out in his radio tower. Not at all. The other can overwork themselves all they want- but they're the one with a problem. Alastor can take on a little more work of Lucifer is going to be such a baby about it- and vice versa! (So long as the other stops overworking themselves to death...)

👀

[darin-nidk]

Prev. | Interlude |

「 Radiosilence (QPR Reader and Alastor) 」

Content: Mostly angst; t.w.: panic attack, anxiety attack, swearing, fear of abandonement, Charlie doesn't get paid to be a therapist.

"God fucking damn it", they turned on their heels as they kept walking, grunting and cussing. Their eyes focused on a chair as they kicked it across the room, effectively breaking it. Hands gripping their hair and lightly tugging at it. "How could he do this to me?!".

"I, ah, what if we take deep breaths..?", Charlie stuttered, the princess of Hell looking anxious at how this particular room was an absolute wreck, even the windows were broken — maybe she needed a hotel manager or someone with more experience than her and uhh, maybe let Vaggie pick who gets to stay in through an interview process..? The demon before her simply stared at her with a sharp glare that made her feel small.

"You have to excuse me, Charlie but, I can't take a deep breath when I feel like suffocating", such words were accompanied by them scratching the skin from their neck all the way down to their collarbone with their claws that were poking out, slightly tearing the skin and bleeding. Somehow that helped to ground them and not spiral out of control. "I can expect betrayal from everyone but him, we are waaay past that stage, we grew up together, aged together, and he disappears?! What the Hell am I supposed to expect? To feel? It's like my metaphorical heart has been ripped apart and torn into pieces, my ribcage hurts when I breath, fucking Hell!", grabbing a book from the small bookshelf, the demon named (Y/N) growled and tossed it against the wall, denting it. They were breathing heavily as they tried to calm down, usually Alastor would know how to calm them down but he was the cause.

"Charlie, you don't understand, he and I... I can feel he made a poor choice because he was cornered and not knowing what he did is driving me insane, I have a deep connection with him. Hell, if he breathes the wrong way I know what the fuck is up—". Explaining their relationship was complex, usually they got misunderstood because apparently someone couldn't care about another without having romantic feelings or whatever.

This feeling was far more complex, they were more than family and friends, soulmates was a bit of a stretch... perhaps a mirror of one another in some fancy manner of speech? And ocasionally engaged in exchanges that could be interpreted in a different light, but romance wasn't it. They had a mutual connection but no carnal desires, their company was an anchor to ground them, it was a comforting bond.

Whatever social need they required, they could satisfy with each other without any misunderstanding or, at least, if there was one then it could be easily fixed with a conversation over a hot beverage with jazz playing on the background.

But Alastor broke their bond without any fucking explanation.

"Fuck, fuck!", (Y/N) cried as they held their face, falling onto their knees. Their vision blurry due to tears rolling down their cheeks, they were having trouble breathing.

[the-morningstar-family]

*appears in between Nova and Alastor in full, solid glory; grabs both and teleports as far as possible away, ironically using a form of light teleportation in order to flash and counter The Evil Shadows*

Al... you have got... to stop... going places... that we can't... reach you. Ugh. I haven't been solid like this in... decades probably. Oof. Ew.

*all but collapses on the ground* Alright. This is fine. You're exhausted, and injured. Novas not even tens secs away from a panic attack, and I've only got what on my back left to help us- I can fly. Cool. Flying back to the hotel sound good? There ain't much other options here... I could probably steal a car tho.

(:

TW: Blood and violence

Cassius growls in anger, going in for Ghost, who dodges expertly. After a few swings he has enough of it. He drags them down. Alastor summons his own, trying to pull them back out but it's hopeless. He's got almost no power left, what he has is dampened by the burning angelic wounds.

Then they're alone again. Alastor heaves himself more upright. He has no power and no strength left. He's half standing half sitting, the draining usage of power leaving his legs shaking. Cassius is looming over him.

Very much recreating a familiar power dynamic

Nova is very much hyperventilating by now, and there's fucking nothing he can do.

His father tries to get in another stab, they tussle. But Alastor slips up, knife ripping through in the space between his rips.

[cringefailvox]

Hello! Fanfic questions! Numbers 15, 26, and 27 for the meteor shower series :D

meteor shower

15. talk about the characters' struggles and how you decided on those.

HOO BOY.

rosie: rosie struggles a lot with Wants To Fix People syndrome that is not helped by her self-awareness about it. she's a meddler, an enabler and a nosy bitch, and these traits lend themselves pretty easily to self-recrimination when she fails to steer a situation in the direction she wanted it to go. she gives herself grace, but she definitely feels responsible for vox and alastor since she introduced them, and since their falling out puts her directly in the middle, she's thrust into the role of mediator, however incidentally. she misses her boys and she wants that closeness back! but she has to come to terms with the fact that while she can try her best, at a certain point, the impetus falls on them to actually listen when she speaks, and it's not her fault that she can't fix everything. girl they need to be making this up to YOU.

vox: anxious attachment issues + rejection sensitive dysphoria + superiority complex + greedy bastard who gets off on exploiting vulnerable people, doesn't understand why his vigilante punitive justice besties hate capitalism when it's so fun + in crippling unrequited love with the radio demon = messy bitch activities. please pick a struggle

alastor: my guy is in the g-ddamn trenches in this series, rip. lots of stuff is wrong with him but in particular, the second installment highlights his struggles with amatonormativity and abandonment issues when he's briefly convinced rosie & vox don't need him anymore now that they're dating (they're not; he's delusional). he struggles a lot with his aroaceness, mostly because he doesn't think he's broken but he does feel bitter and resentful about the prioritization of romance over friendship, and DITITS is just one long relationship anarchy angst fest bc he's so meirl.

26. share your favorite detail(s).

from time has changed the metaphor: i've mentioned this before, but the parallels of rosie calming vox down from a panic attack after the radiostatic divorce / vox calming alastor down from a panic attack after the fight with adam in the exact same way <3

from dragging its tail in the sea: the running joke about the changing painting in alastor's room at cannibal town, because it still makes me giggle every time i re-read it

27. share a piece of lore you made up for the story.

all the little bits about alastor's deal!! i'm a roo truther in my heart and i loved peppering in all the hints and motifs about the eyes, alastor being bound to silence, the idea that she only approached him with a deal when he was at his very lowest + after decades of inflicting low-key psychological torture on him -- oh yeah, delicious. i don't have any concrete ideas about this but i did very much enjoy crafting the Implications

[dark-ambition]

Things my version of Sir Pentious does do within the Hazbin canon:

Does:

• Show up to attack the Hotel in an attempt to kill Alastor and ends up ripping off a part of his coat.

• Attempt to infiltrate the Hotel later as a spy for the V’s and is caught by Angel Dust (with the caveat that he was planning on double crossing the V’s the whole time on the grounds of not wanting them to defeat Alastor before him)

• Believe out of paranoia that everyone in the hotel is attempting to murder him afterwards and creates new weaponry to fend them off until Vaggie intervenes

• Get thrown into the middle of a turf war along with Angel Dust by Vaggie and subsequently have to get dragged out by Angel because he has no weapons to fight with (Vaggie having confiscated them all from him)

• Not believe the Eggbois when one of them accidentally lets slip that Carmine killed one of the exorcists

• Bake cookies for Lucifer’s arrival and greets him with a salute when he arrives

• Listen to Mimzy’s story with Angel Dust about Alastor’s past as the Radio Demon

• Save Niffty from being crushed by fallen debris when the loan sharks attack the building

• Get drunk as fuck when Angel Dust takes them all out clubbing and gets wrapped up in an orgy

• Stay behind at the hotel to begin properly fortifying the place when Charlie and Vaggie try to recruit Carmine and Cannibal Town to fight the Exorcists.

• Give a toast to everyone the night before the final battle.

• Stays atop the Hotel balcony to lay down suppressive artillery fire and direct the ground defensive to ward off assaults.

Does Not:

• Try to kill Alastor for the sake of obtaining recognition from the V’s, rather trying to kill Alastor for the sake of his own glory.

• Dress up in a sailor boy outfit with a giant lollipop.

• Panics when he gets caught as a spy and tries to call Vox to get help and then start crying when he gets told to off himself. Instead, he pretends to have been attacked, crushes the wrist watch, and then confesses how he was asked to spy and planned on planting the spy cameras in useless rooms to reduce as much information the V’s could obtain as possible.

• Lay down and ask to be killed quickly while crying

• Start crying when the Eggbois are taken away from him/become overjoyed when they’re given back

• Dive off the trust fall booth in hopes no one catches him because he misses his minions

• Flirt with/try to get with Cherri Bomb through the night at the club in episode 6 (he instead just sneers at her and tries to ignore that she’s there)

• Try and confess his love for Cherri Bomb several times/kiss her during the final battle (he is not attracted to her at all.)

• Die in the final battle. He sends his ship up to Adam with the eggs inside while he stays behind, and when the Hotel is blasted apart by Adam, he digs himself out of the rubble when the battle is over.

[truearchangel]

It’s chewsday and who is he to leave his twin out of the festivities ~

Grinning to himself he comes up behind Mike and proceeds to nom his arm.

@themosthatedbeingg 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘.

   IN NORMAL SITUATIONS, Michael does not consider himself a jumpy person. He lives in Heaven, he often has the younger angels swooping down from the sky and draping themselves across him. But there was a difference between the occasional soft hug he’s given in Heaven, and someone sneaking up behind him with devious intentions. Add in the fact he’s in Hell, a place that does make him uncomfortable, and his refusal to sleep down here. Well, being on edge was a kind way to put the high strung angel. 

   He didn’t have a specific target for his study in mind today. After the night he had, Michael was just observing in general today. Mostly he was going over the notes he already had and trying to organize them. He was making different categories in his notebook, walking around the hotel and catching any specific things that interested in. Virtues in practice or sins that were–questionable for lack of a better word. He caught Angel batting his eyes at the bartender and Husk looking like he wanted to crack the glass he was holding over the spider demon’s head. Slightly interesting interactions. Niffty’s obnoxious love for bugs–or is it hate? 

   He had not seen Lucifer this morning, but that wasn’t unusual. When he was with his daughter he was often out doing things, just enjoying being with her or helping the hotel. He doesn’t think much of it, himself and Alastor can handle the hotel and anything that might happen. It was fine and he wasn’t that tired, really. He just needed to organize the thoughts and understand what exactly was happening with himself. Perfectly normal. 

   At some point, lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice Lucifer enter the room. Just as he failed to notice when the King of Hell was sneaking his way up behind the Sword of God. Michael had made a final note about Angel and Husk’s interaction right before he felt himself grabbed and a set of horrible sharp teeth digging right into his arm. 

   It was a knee jerk reaction. 

   The notebook was dropped, papers scattering from inside it across the hotel floor, and in a split second he had summoned his sword. The holy blade sunk into his attacker's body, his other hand grabbing a fistful of their clothes to keep them in place. A piece of his own flesh was torn with how quickly he turned, ripping their teeth from his body without a single flinch. Despite the ache and burning sensation that set up his arm, he was more focused on destroying the creature that dared sneak up on an Archangel. 

   And then he noticed the circus wear, the gold and red eyes, the horrible familiar feeling of again stabbing his brother and pinning him in place. 

   It was genuinely an accident, the last thing that Michael would ever want to do was hurt Lucifer again. He would even dare say it was a nightmare of his to cause his brother such agony a second time when they were working on possibly repairing the bits of their broken bond back together. And now once more one of his blades is inches deep inside his twin’s body and he can feel that horribly warm and bright golden blood staining his hands. 

   “𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠. No, no, 𝙣𝙤–what is wrong with you!? Why would you do that!?” Sneak up on someone, on a trained weapon, whose constant feeling down here was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for one of the sinners to want to tear him to pieces and eat him. The last thing he expected it to be was his own brother. 

   He can fix this though, he can absolutely fix this. Michael might not be as good as Raphael in healing, but he is still an angel. He can still do what every other one can. “Okay, okay, don’t panic.” It doesn’t seem like Lucifer is the one panicking in this situation but one of them certainly was. Tightening his grip on his sword he braced Lucifer’s shoulder with his other hand properly and met his eyes. “Breathe out slowly.” 

   The warning is given right before Michael yanks his blade from his twin’s body and then the weapon is dropped from his hand onto the ground, clattering with a loud sound and splattering the golden blood staining it across the hotel floor. “Good, good. Now we’re going to sit down and I am going to heal you.” 

   Gripping his brother’s upper arms he eased him down onto the floor and knelt before him, wiping his hands off on his own jacket before turning to the wound on Lucifer’s body. It was rather deep, he had gotten him good, but it wasn’t bad enough he couldn’t fix it. Lucifer might have another scar from him, but what else was new? The only thing Michael seemed good at doing was causing his twin brother more and more pain. Leaving physical and emotional scars on him every single time they engaged with each other. 

   𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨����, 𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨.

   Had he ever, in his entire life, done anything useful for his brother? Or was it just like this? Another weapon, another blade, digging its way deeper into his brother’s body leaving its mark behind. Poisoning him and making it all worse. All his life the only thing he’s ever wanted to do was protect and defend his brother. Make sure he was happy and existing as he wanted to. Burning as bright as the morning star he was named after. Yet, all he did instead was the opposite. Was all of this. 

   Is he a mistake?   Is he a mistake?   Is he a mistake? 

   His face feels hot and the feeling of his eyes and cheeks growing wet startles him a bit. He doesn’t move though, doesn’t stop them, to focus on trying to stitch the wound on Lucifer’s body back together. Tears are unfamiliar to him. He can’t even remember the last time he cried but they kept falling and the emotional instability he was feeling found itself reflected in the tremble in his hands. 

   The sob that gathers in his throat is bitten back and Michael forces the quiet words that needed to be said out of his mouth. “I am so sorry, Sam.”

[cyberrat]

Vox triggering it, Valentino starting to freak out. Vox thinks Valentino is just being dramatic, so her gets annoyed at him. Which doesn't help. Valentino is curled up in the corner, now scared of Vox. Vox isn't 100% sure if Val is playing some game or having an actual panic attack. Sees his shot to make Val his bitch. It's fun for a while, and it's like a game to Vox, untill Valentino reaches a state like what Vox saw in that old video. Vox now knows for sure that was a real panic attack. He doesn't want to make it even worse, but any attempt at gentle de-escalation only confuse Valentino, so they don't really work.

Ugh yeah I fucking need Vox to be so emotionally stunted that it takes him excruciatingly long to realize Val is not just being his normal bitch baby self but actually really fucked up because of something Vox said/did.

Like Val wouldn‘t fight him/rip away from him or anything; just goes along like the good little basement dwelling fuck toy he‘s been for ages while Vox keeps grunt fucking him and talking about his revenge plans for Alastor or some shit. Not even paying attention to the actual hole he‘s fucking cause he‘s so deep in his revenge porn fantasies.

Once he finally notices he has no fuuucking clue what to do about it. Does he feel bad? Maybe. Does he have a hardon for Val‘s distress and is finally thinking about someone other than Alastor? Absolutely.

[luckywatersao3]

do you know any drarry fics similar to astraea? or what is the best drarry fic you’ve ever read

Hmmmm. So the only drarry fics that i can think of that have similar qualities to Astraea are ones that go through the entire seven years and have some good world building, so top recs would be:

Two to Shore (204813 words) by Lamplighter Chapters: 37/37 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson Additional Tags: Slytherin Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, extremely slow slow burn, Voldemort is mostly a background event Summary:

Harry and Draco meet in Madam Malkin’s and instantly take a liking to each other.

Just kidding. They don’t, but Harry does get sorted into Slytherin, and they do become extremely good friends.

A Hard Story (294395 words) by MickeySLee Chapters: 34/50 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Mandy Brocklehurst/Sally-Anne Perks, Sirius Black/Mary Macdonald Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's Owl, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Poppy Pomfrey, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Mandy Brocklehurst, Sally-Anne Perks, Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, Dolores Umbridge, Mary Macdonald, Luna Lovegood, Hogwarts Students Additional Tags: Secret Relationship, secret friendship, Canon Rewrite, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Series, Panic Attacks, Scars, Romance, Teen Romance, Plot Twists, Arguments, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Homosexuality, Intimacy, Hogwarts Prefects' Bathroom, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Harry, Romantic Draco, why is that not a tag, Blow Jobs, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Boys In Love, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), Frottage, Harry Potter is a Good Boyfriend, Draco Malfoy is a Good Boyfriend, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, Snuggles & Cuddles, Good Draco Malfoy, Anxiety, Minor Character Death, Sectumsempra scene, Sixth Year Bathroom Scene, Weddings, Same-Sex Marriage, Wedding Night, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Draco Malfoy, Switching Series: Part 1 of The Harder Series Summary:

That fateful meeting in Madam Malkin’s didn’t happen quite the same as remembered. When circumstances fall into place just so, the effect is almost always noticeable. The planets align, a butterfly flaps its wings, and reality takes a turn. In a universe where Draco was different, and Harry was different, they are different together. Forces oppose them at every turn, threatening to rip them apart despite the secret that pulls them together. But as those fortunate enough learn, love conquers all.

A reimagining of the series if Drarry had been the author’s OTP. Plus other stuff. Like a Secret Relationship, Emotions, Friction, Drama, and a lot of Love.

This is the NSFW version of "Throughout the Twists to Time." For the SFW version (as well as the 'Classic' Version), please read that one, next in this series.

Draco Malfoy and the Letter from the Future (33459 words) by DracoWillHearAboutThis Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Rubeus Hagrid, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore, Quirinus Quirrell, Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Neville Longbottom Additional Tags: Time Travel, Harry Potter Series Retold, POV Draco Malfoy, Draco & Harry Friendship, Bullying, Draco questioning his parents' ideals Series: Part 1 of Do It All Over Again Summary:

All he wanted was a way out. A way to do it all over again, and to erase his mistakes. He stared at the crackling blue flames so hard they imprinted in his vision.

At age eleven, Draco receives a letter from the future, which will make him change the path he has set out upon and lead him into a life he'd never dared to imagine.

survival is a talent (367490 words) by ShanaStoryteller Chapters: 23/? Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black Additional Tags: Soulmate AU, Indian Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, canon? i don't know her, Slow Build, Lucius Malfoy is a bad person but a good father, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Smart Draco Malfoy, I'm offended that's a tag OF COURSE he's smart, sometimes bad things happen, but this fic isn't out to hurt you, Secret Relationship, Slytherins and Gryffindors being reluctant friends, Plotty, suprising lack of focus on soulmates for a soulmate au Summary:

In the middle of their second year, Draco and Harry discover they're soulmates and do their best to keep it a secret from everyone.

Their best isn't perfect.

~

“Are you trying to get killed, Potter?” Malfoy drawls, stalking forward. Quick as a serpent himself, he reaches out and grabs the snake just below the head. It thrashes in his grip, but is no longer able to bite anyone. “This is a poisonous snake, and I doubt anyone brought a bezoar with them.”

Harry glares. He opens his mouth, and feels the beginning the snake’s language pass his lips, and this isn’t what he wants, what’s the point of insulting Malfoy if he can’t understand him –

Malfoy’s eyes widen. He slaps his hand over Harry’s mouth, “Potter, what the hell–”

~

AND, FINALLY, FAVORITE DRARRY STORY OF ALL TIME:

The Man Who Lived (253826 words) by sebastianL Chapters: 42/42 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Additional Tags: Original Characters - Freeform, Sexual Content, Violence, Slow Burn, First Person, Character Study, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Lovers Summary:

Draco breaks a cup, and one thing leads to another. A story of redemption, tattoos, dreams, mistakes, green eyes, long conversations, and copious amounts of coffee.

Set in New York twelve years after the war.

[pctterprongs]

the questioning | jan 5th, 1978.

James felt his footsteps freeze, even with his Dad beside him. The dark tiles that drowned out light surrounded him, the door at the end of the hall cracked open. He could hear the murmurs of people—all of them planning to question him. How bad had they been to Peter? To Sirius? To Remus? How he’d wished to have been in those rooms, be a blockade to his friends. James could take it. He could do it. All he could think about was whether or not his friends were alright. He almost wished his dad stayed with Sirius, Remus, Pete—anyone but—

‘James, it’ll be alright.’ His dad’s encouraging tones broke his thoughts, as James looked to his dad.

“How do you know they’ll be alright?” He didn’t want to ask how he knew his son would be alright. He didn’t want to question that.

‘You boys haven’t done a damn thing. Go—I’m going to be right here when you’re done.’

“Dad, please—go find the lads, make sure they’re alright for me. I can handle this.” I can’t. James knew that, the thought passing his mind. But it was easier to deflect the fear, let it flip and swim inside of his stomach than make it known to his aging father.

The door opened, the sharp dressed witch stood behind the high desk, as four Aurors sat on either side—his sights settled on Alastor McKinnon for a moment—would he go easy on his best friend’s son? On the boys his best friend considered sons? Seated in the straight back chair, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, hands gripped on either side, doing his best to ignore the clear shackles that sat on either side of the armed chair.

‘What is your full name?’ The witch asked.

“James Fleamont Potter.”

‘Education?’

“I’m a seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

‘Age?’

“Twenty.”

Shuffling of paper, scribbling of quill and ink against the parchment, as James only glanced when he felt it safe. The pews aligned all around them. And they brought a teenage boy in here.

‘In your time at Hogwarts, it says you’ve had over two hundred and seventeen detentions. And you’re only starting your second term of school.’

“That’s correct.” James almost spoke through gritted teeth.

‘Charming the stairs within the castle to act as a slide, locking the Slytherin students in the Dungeons, hanging a sign outside of the gates of school that teachers have yet to be able to remove,’ The witch shuffled papers once more. ‘And that’s only off the top of my list.’

James said nothing. She didn’t need to recount what he’d done. Even of some of it was impressive magic, which the sign he and Sirius put up was still one of his proudest moments. But now wasn’t the time for it.

‘It says here you cursed another student’s head to blow up—‘

“Twice his size. It was a prank.” James murmured, keeping his sights set on the Auror before him.

‘Why the boy?’

“I was being stupid.Thought I was smarter than everyone else.” Wasn’t that the truth?

‘In your fifth year, Prefect Lily Evans gave you detention for levitating and threatening to pants a boy in front of the entire school.’

The stony stare now settled into James. Like he could feel that arrogant, good-for-nothing side of him about to burst through in a plethora of defense. Hands gripped the arms of the seat, as his jaw clenched tightly. “Yes. Severus Snape.”

‘Says here you were quite brutal to the boy over the years...’

James could practically see the memory play out from inside of his mind.

'All right, Snivellus?' said James loudly. Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: dropping his bag, he plunged his hand inside his robes and his wand was halfway into the air when James shouted, 'Expelliarmus!' Snape's wand flew twelve feet into the air and fell with a little thud in the grass behind him. Sirius let out a bark of laughter. 'Impedimenta!' he said, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off his feet halfway through a dive towards his own fallen wand. Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained. Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water's edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view. 'How'd the exam go, Snivelly?' said James.

James physically shook his head. He couldn’t do that, wouldn’t go back there.

He wasn’t that person anymore. Maybe he just needed to keep telling himself that.

‘Is this what Head Boy’s do, Mr. Potter? Pick on their fellow classmates?’ James still didnt’ offer a comment, as the Witch continued. ‘You’ve quite a record, you know. Just alone, one student, the same girl as before, Lily Evans, has given you nearly fifteen detentions in the course of your years. How would that clean your name from the night of the Yule Ball?’

“I don’t—“

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

‘Why would Dumbledore think you were good enough to set an example for the Student body? Clearly your record shows the opposite.’

And then James thought back to the worst part of that memory.

'I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!' Lily blinked. 'Fine,' she said coolly. 'I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus. ' 'Apologise to Evans!' James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him. 'I don't want you to make him apologise,' Lily shouted, rounding on James. 'You're as bad as he is. ' 'What?' yelped James. 'I'd NEVER call you a--you-know-what!' 'Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can--I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK. ' She turned on her heel and hurried away. 'Evans!' James shouted after her. 'Hey, EVANS!' But she didn't look back. 'What is it with her?' said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 'Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate,' said Sirius. 'Right,' said James, who looked furious now, 'right--' There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside-down in the air. 'Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?'

James chewed on the inside of his cheek. “What’s this have to do with the Yule Ball incident? Peter, all my mates are innocent, we didn’t do this.”

‘Mr. Potter, you’re the Head Boy. Dumbledore has chosen you to set an example. Consider us curious to know why he chose you in the first place with such a rich history standing behind you. If it were me, and I had to pick, you would’ve been my last choice, and that would’ve included considering the Giant Squid as a contender.’ The witch offered her opinion, and James nodded.

“I’m sure ol’ Squiddy would fill out the robes nicely then.” James snipped darkly. “No fingers though, might need to help him pin the badge on.”

‘You seem very confident for a boy who was accused of being an accomplice in a heinous crime like casting the Dark Mark. Dare you suggest you’re better than me, Mr. Potter? Better than the Aurors who escorted you here today?’

He wasn’t about to refute that with a comment. Instead, he shook his head, a sharp huff of air escaped flared nostrils.

‘Something the matter, Mr. Potter? Perhaps something you’d like to tell us?’

“This is bloody ridiculous, we didn’t do anything, Alastor—“ James turned his attention to the man who called his father a friend, a darkened glare settling on his expression. “You know I wouldn’t do this, we wouldn’t ever do something like this—“

‘Mr. Potter, I’ll advise you only once that you are not to speak to Auror McKinnon or anyone else up here expect for me.’

Just like that, the shackles danced around his wrists, like they were about to snap closed around him.

‘I’d prefer not to be forced to bind a child.’

James was starting to feel the panic settle into his entire body now.

‘The night of the Yule Ball… do you know who you were with throughout the course of the evening?’ The witch posed, like she was trying to get back on track after ripping him down for his past-self.

“I spent time with my Mother and Father. Lily Evans, the Head Girl, Florence Blishwick, my girlfriend. Remus Lupin and I hung out a bit.”

‘That’s it?’

“Yes.”

‘And all of these people can account for you being there?’

“Yes.” James answered again.

‘How can you say Mr. Pettigrew didn’t cast the spell if you didn’t see him?’

“I know Peter. He wouldn’t dare cast such a mark.” James spoke confidently. It rose from his chest, the way James could proudly say such a statement. “Peter would never.”

‘Mr. Potter, I should remind you, your opinion is invalid here. We want facts.’ The witch snipped at him. ‘The morning after the Yule Ball, where were you?’

“In my dorm. We were going home that morning.”

‘And—Mr. Black,’ The witch said Sirius’s name with such a distinguished twist to her words, James was forced to grip the armrest once more just to keep his wits about him. ‘Mr. Lupin and yourself, you were all in the Dorm?’

“Yes.” James nearly hissed at the woman.

James looked to Alastor, looking at him with contempt—but all the man did was avoid his gaze, look down at the paper in front of him, as James shook his head.

Questioning went on for over an hour and a bit—picking and pinpointing at every instance from James past to the night of the Yule Ball, from his relationships, to questions of confidence that the Head Girl would defend James. He didn’t want to answer any of them, trying to find the means to make sure Remus was alright. That he wanted to see Peter, make sure Sirius would be alright.

‘Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Potter. The Wizengamot will deliberate with the Auror Office and the Headmaster of Hogwarts to deliberate the situation. You will be permitted to resume studies at Hogwarts in the time being.’

James stood slowly, sickened. If this was what they considered protection, now more than ever, their world needed the Order of the Phoenix. Stepping down, he looked over his shoulder momentarily, watching the adults in hushed whispers, as the door to exit opened on his approach. Arms encircled him, the familiar scent of his father’s cologne filled his nostrils. James was thankful, for once, his Dad didn’t listen to him, hugging the man back just as tightly.

‘How’d it go?’ His dad’s tone was full of worry, as James wiped that fearful expression from his face, shaking his head.

He masked it, completely. Like it didn’t matter. Like he was the least of their worries. Like James didn’t feel like throwing up in that moment. Nerves got the best of him, anger got the best of him, fear got the best of him, and it was now revolving in one spinning motion. “Fine. Easy.” He murmured, passing a smirk to hide that look.

“I want to go see the others, Dad.” He murmured, his only concern was his friends in that moment.

‘Alright, son.’ James was pulled comfortably into a half-hug from his father, as they walked away from the dreaded courtroom.

[whoisleft-rp]

FOUR YEAR ANNIVERSARY EVENT: BLACKOUT !

Keep your eyes open and your wand out.

PART #001: THE DARKNESS.

The war is undeniable at this point, even with the Ministry of Magic’s continued effort to diminish it. Simple conflicts, a few scattered murders, condemned vigilantes and attempted terrorists - but the terrorists only win if the people are afraid, and the Ministry is doing everything it can to pacify the wizarding world. Not everyone will fall for it, especially as the attacks and terror continues to spread.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has always been considered a safe haven, even with their own share of recent unpleasant events. The attack on Benjy Fenwick, the discussions about blood purity steadily rising from whispers to confident, if not still quite,  quorums; and certainly not just in the Slytherin common room. But Hogwarts is safe; a place to share ideas, challenge them, learn and develop lifelong relationships. Albus Dumbledore would certainly never let anything harm his students, not on his watch.

And, certainly, no one was badly hurt. Not at first.

On a beautifully sunny Saturday morning in early May, most of the school’s population was busy with lunch. Now only weeks away from O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts, many students already had the rest of their weekends blocked out for frantic revisions and tearful visits to their patient professors’ office hours. Some had plans to meet up with friends at Hogsmeade, others would be taking advantage of the otherwise quiet Quidditch pitch to get some pickup games in.

At the peak of the morning, creeping into early afternoon, everything went black.

Blacker than black; the darkest night, swallowing up all the light previously streaming in through the Great Hall’s massive windows. Even the bewitched-sunny ceiling faded into the void with nothing more than a collective gasp from the crowd below. The sound of the doors being thrown open could just be heard above the immediate screams and shouts; but no light filtered in. Even the castle’s grand foyer was nothing but a dense fog of black. Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder; but too much of it, in too high a concentration, to magically disperse of without a trained team aiding the professors.

Light began to erupt, feebly, from the wands of staff and any students able to gather their wits about them: but each Lumos was a dim pinprick, quickly swallowed by dark dust, barely enough to provide a proper torch. Albus Dumbledore’s voice magically boomed above the steadily more hysterical crowd:

“PREFECTS, WANDS HIGH. LEAD YOUR HOUSE TO THE FRONT LAWN. HEADS OF HOUSES FIND YOUR WAY TO YOUR COMMON ROOMS AND SEARCH FOR ANY STUDENTS WHO MIGHT NEED LEADING. LISTEN FOR YOUR PROFESSORS. STAY CALM.”

Calm, perhaps not. But the prefects leapt to their posts; clumsy, almost completely blind  - and terrified, leading their charges to the castle lawn.

The sun was still shining.

PART #002: THE LAWN.

The castle lawn was safe, it seemed, for a few moments. The hard-to-shake terror of sudden blinding darkness still lingered, and many of the professors were still inside the castle rounding up stragglers. Within minutes, however, restlessness began to settle: why had this happened, how had this happened, who had done it? Was the culprit’s goal just to have a bit of pranking fun on a Saturday morning? Surely the sheer amount needed, the coordination to cover the entire school at the same time, meant nothing good.

Those students making those connections began to voice their concerns to the prefects and Head Boy and Head GIrl, but it was hardly necessary: moments later, chaos erupted again.

This time in the form of red and blue curses flying in the air. Nothing killing, nothing to maim; but stinging jinxes, leg-locking charms, even curses in the form of smarting burns started to appear on people’s arms. The crowd, densely packed, could not quite tell where they were coming from.

They were coming, of course, from two peculiar, silent  students in the middle of the sea of faces: peculiar, because they were each wearing the face of another student currently in the same crowd. There were two Mary Macdonalds on the Hogwarts lawn that day; the real one and the fake. There were two Dirk Cresswells, too. The Death Eaters had purposefully taken the faces of muggleborn students they knew would be protected, instead of suspected, by others...at least, until their attack could begin.

Some students fled, some bled, some ran and some fell. Some were prompted to fight back; others began fighting anyone they could throughout the confusion. With the pushing, shoving, screaming all started up again, it fell to Lily Evans and James Potter – Head Boy and Girl and left in charge until told otherwise – to make a quick decision.

What they decided to do was get everyone away from the castle until it was deemed safe, and head for Hogsmeade. There, they hoped, the students would at least have safety in numbers and, more adults to protect them as the Aurors began arriving to help.

The crowd began funneling down the path to the town: the two mysterious same-faced students disappeared. Antonin Dolohov and Igor Karkaroff slipped away before their polyjuice potion wore off, though not entirely unscathed.

Head Girl Lily Evans led the evacuation, walking at the front of the crowd and working hard to keep a brave face and to keep everyone calm.  Head Boy James Potter stayed back, to bring up the rear and to ensure nobody was left behind.

However, instead of leading students from danger, Lily was walking straight into it herself.

The massive group reached Hogsmeade, confused townsfolk and day-visitors alike worriedly watching the en masse approach. Aurors began arriving not long after, alerted by the professors of Hogwarts -

The Death Eaters, fully masked and cloaked,  arrived at the same time.

PART #003: THE HEIST.

Several key members of the Order of the Phoenix were already stationed in Hogsmeade; they’d received intel recently that the Death Eaters were planning on pulling off a heist of some sort. Some magical item, was their best guess: perhaps some kind of weapon or powerful artifact that the Death Eaters wished to procure to make themselves more powerful, or keep out of the hands of those they deemed less worthy.

In addition to the Order members patrolling the village, Alastor Moody — Head Auror and, obviously, in the know due to his dual position as one of the head commanders of the Order — was ready, too. He was keeping close eyes (one magical, one normal) on the action, lying in wait for the first sign of danger so that he could send proper Aurors to the area. If the information they had was correct, this was his big chance to send in the trained dark wizard catchers and make some high profile arrests.

The information was correct...and it was incorrect, too. Alastor didn’t know what to expect as the potential heist unfolded, but one thing was for sure: he wasn’t expecting the first signal of danger to come straight from Hogwarts.

But come from Hogwarts it did.

It all started as a wave of footsteps coming down, like an avalanche, from the path that led to the Hogwarts castle on a distant hill. Where there was silence only a short while ago, now there was chaos. The fighting from the castle’s lawn - combined with the initial panic of the blackout - had poured down into the village, growing with each new student, civilian and unlucky onlooker that got pulled into the fray. The chaos grew and grew, breaking over everyone in waves. Duels broke out, panicked defensive spells were flung by trained professionals and young teenages alike.

Students ran for cover in the streets, Order members were jarred out of their careful casing of the area and forced into action against the seemingly random acts of violence. The Aurors arrived too, spurred into action by Moody’s call – Moody himself joined the fray, proudly displaying his face and Ministry status in the crowd, standing among (but careful not to target) the hooded vigilante he was pretending not to know, not to lead.

It was luck, sheer luck, that the Death Eaters’ true target was revealed. It wasn’t an object they were after at all, not a weapon, not gold.

It was a student.

One student in particular: Lily Evans.

Lily Evans, visible - and known muggleborn - Head Girl, was quickly and purposefully sought out by one of the masked terrorists. The blackout had been the Death Eaters’ way of smoking the students out of the school. Based on everything they’d learned about her, and all of Dumbledore’s foolish, foolhardy Gryffindor pride that they’d banked on him passing on to his redheaded prodigee, they’d counted on her leading other students to safety and making herself an easy target in the process.

Before Lily knew it, there was a wand pressed against her neck, and a strong hand – too powerful to rip herself free from – held her in place, a human shield. The man who held her called for a standstill and his voice, magically altered and booming through the streets, was enough to bring all of the action to a screeching halt. Everyone in the village (Death Eaters, vigilantes, Aurors and students alike) froze. No one dared to breathe when they might accidentally spur the Death Eater into action; it was too risky, when he was threatening to kill the girl. Nobody dared throw a spell in her defense, either – what if it missed, what if they made everything worse?

They were statues in the street.

Then, one more wave of chaos hit: a spell, from seemingly nowhere, careened through the crowd and struck the Death Eater holding Lily. It was a bright blue beam of light and, to the naked eye, it had no effect. There was no explosion, no sudden bloody injury to the masked man. But to those who knew what to look for – the Aurors paralyzed without commands to follow, the vigilantes stunned and trying to interfere without causing harm – the signs were all there. The Death Eater’s stance stumbled; his wand lowered slightly. For a moment, he was as off his game as those he’d arrived to taunt and horrify.

A blur – then one of the hooded vigilantes was breaking through the tight line of unsure Aurors!

The Death Eater struggled to regain himself as the hooded figure ran toward him, but to no avail. Other Death Eaters, positioned nearby, fired spells of their own. With either amazing grace or otherworldly luck, the vigilante managed to leap for the Death Eater and knock Lily Evans free of his grasp.

Not only that...but he managed to rip the Death Eater’s mask from his face, exposing the true identity of the would-be kidnapper to the crowd.

It was Asher Nott, patriarch of the Nott family and father of Sebastian, who now stood, unmasked, in the middle of Hogsmeade’s Main Street.

Asher’s comrades all disapparated in the blink of an eye, leaving him behind. The village became thick with smoke, criminals escaping one by one and leaving only dust and frustration in their wake. However, it was not for nought. Half the force of the entire Auror Department rushed for Nott senior, to drag him into custody.

It was only a roared “WAIT!” from Alastor Moody that stopped the other half of his Ministry footsoldiers from leaping for the vigilante who had interrupted the kidnapping, too. Lucky again, the hooded hero on the ground gained just enough time to twist himself and disappear into thin air.

All in all, only about an hour had passed since the choking darkness had appeared inside the Hogwarts castle walls. Injuries, curse aftereffects, and abrasions were aplenty throughout the whiplashed crowd of students and civilians. From the edge of Hogsmeade Village to the front doors of Hogwarts School, confused and conflicted bodies were strewn about, trying to make sense of what their day had become.

After all, it had become quite a lot.

Vince Sinclair had recklessly exposed an inner-circle member of the Death Eaters and had only just barely escaped without having his own identity unmasked.

Lily Evans was whisked away to St. Mungo’s immediately, bruises on her arm from Asher Nott’s hand.

Albus Dumbledore appeared on the scene shortly after to safely escort the students back to the castle, sharing a knowing - and concerned - look with Alastor Moody as he did.

And where was everyone else...?

Maybe Hogwarts isn’t so safe after all.

TLDR; a brief summary for the lazy !

There was a sudden blackout at Hogwarts during lunch. Under the power of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, even wandlight couldn’t break through the darkness...so the castle was evacuated.

The castle lawn was expected to be safe, but chaos soon erupted again. Mid-evacuation, two “students” (Death Eaters in disguise, care of Polyjuice Potion) began throwing curses at evacuated and evacuating students, prompting some to flee, some to fight back, and some to begin fighting anyone they could in the confusion.

This chaos led Head Girl Lily Evans to begin a second evacuation - leading a wave of students down to Hogsmeade Village to get further from the danger. Head Boy James Potter stayed back, to ensure nobody got left behind.

However, instead of leading students from danger, Lily was walking straight into it herself.

The Death Eaters planned heist in the village was not a heist at all - but a kidnapping attempt. As fighting broke out in the village, Lily was grabbed by a masked Death Eater and held at wandpoint as stunned civilians, students, Aurors and Order of the Phoenix members looked on.

Lily was freed by a stroke of luck. Thanks to a silent look exchanged between Order Member Vince Sinclair and Ravenclaw student Dorcas Meadowes, who recognized him during a momentary lapse of his glamour disguise, the action began again. From deep within the crowd, Dorcas hit the Death Eater with a spell of her own design that caused a debilitating migraine; a positively muggle affliction, but one that caused him to lose balance and enough concentration that he could not apparate.

Vince jumped into action at this point, tackling the Death Eater, freeing Lily, and unmasking the would-be kidnapped...who turned out to be Asher Nott, father of Sebastian Nott and now-confirmed Death Eater.

The other Death Eaters apparated away, leaving their colleague in favor of saving their own skin; Vince escaped by the skin of his teeth; Lily was rushed to St. Mungo’s and everyone else’s locations and stories can be found below the cut! 

OOC INFORMATION; the rules !

At the bottom of this post, below the ‘read more’ cut, all of your characters have been split up across multiple locations where the action is happening. It’s up to you to decide why they were in those locations and what happens to them during the attack beyond information given. You can also write self-paras, etc.

Interact and plot with the characters yours have been paired with, using our blurbs as springboards and inspiration! You can write out the full scene we’ve described starting from the beginning or starting in the main action of the outline or directly after, as well; wherever you think your character will shine the most!

Feel free to write DURING the action of the events above, or in the IMMEDIATE aftermath. However, please do not write TOO FAR into the future following the event; there is further important information to come from the Daily Prophet, school, etc. 

Use the tag WhoIsLeftBlackout for starters, self-paras and related posts. 

Starters taking place DURING this attack, from the blackout to the ‘heist’ - and the direct aftermath - can be posted between now and 11:59pm on Friday, November 15th.

As always, please remember to REPLY to already-posted starters in addition to posting your own. Please also avoid - to the extent possible - posting a wave of last-minute starters during the last couple hours of the open starter window. We want to encourage activity and interaction, not just a wave of starters stating where your character is that people won’t have time to give proper attention to!

WHERE IS EVERYONE!?

All of your characters have been split up below the cut! This includes information on their locations/fates during the action above and during the immediate aftermath.

Lily Evans & Sebastian Nott

Head Girl Lily Evans was the one who stepped up to lead students to safety in the wake of the blackout...just as the Death Eaters assumed she would be. When it was discovered that the castle was entirely in darkness, the quick decision was made to evacuate students into Hogsmeade...just as the Death Eatershoped. Lily led the parade of frightened students down into the village while James Potter stayed back to ensure others were able to follow and that nobody was left behind. Lily’s bravery and leadership were noted by all as she led hundreds of students down into the village, herself at the front of the pack and hiding her own fear. But hiding that fear became impossible when she was suddenly grabbed by a masked Death Eater as he - and others, quickly joining - apparated onto the scene. 

The planned Death Eater ‘heist’ was not a heist at all, but an attempt to kidnap Hogwarts’s muggleborn Head Girl to make a statement. If the Order of the Phoenix hadn’t been ready and waiting in the wings, Lily surely would have been taken...instead, she was held at wandpoint by a masked man, later revealed to be Asher Nott, as chaos erupted around her. As the fighting continued between the Death Eaters, the Order and the Ministry - as they, led by Alastor Moody arrived on the scene - Lily was kept prisoner and in the direct line of fire. 

After the attack, Lily was immediately grabbed by Professor Minerva McGonagall who apprated her away to St. Mungo’s for an evaluation.

Following the action, Lily was checked into a room at St. Mungo’s and left to wait for a while as paperwork was sorted out and other casualties were brought in. Security was tight outside of her room, but one person managed to make it onto the wing – Sebastian Nott, son of the man who had just been unmasked as a Death Eater and attempted kidnapper. Though a Death Eater himself, Sebastian was able to avoid detection at the scene and apparated away with plenty of time to spare. At the hospital, he was permitted to see his father – who was under heavy Auror scrutiny and about to be officially arrested – but declined, opting to distance himself from the man and attempt to see Lily instead.

Gideon Prewett & Daniyah Burke

The cautious Daniyah Burke and the reckless Gideon Prewett were paired up for their patrol of the village, prepared to put a stop to what they thought would be a fairly routine heist of an object or weapon. However, as the village descended into chaos, it quickly became clear that they were in over their heads...and that this was not an attempted heist, but an attempted kidnapping. The two Order members had to assess the situation quickly and involve themselves in the sudden change of plans.

Sirius Black & Narcissa Black (ft. Bellatrix Black)

Sirius Black was left alone when James Potter and Remus Lupin sprung into action and split off to attend to their respective Head Boy/Prefect duties. Amid the chaos - and knowing that, for the moment, his friends were safe - Sirius began searching for other people of importance to him. He quickly noticed that his estranged younger brother Regulus was nowhere to be found. However, he did run into Narcissa Black halfway between the school grounds and Hogsmeade Village and quickly came to her defense. 

By the time Sirius and Narcissa met up and he was able to pull her aside, they were on the outskirts of the village - and danger was coming from both directions now. Narcissa accepted Sirius’s protection and stayed close to him...a fact that was noticed by the nearby and masked Bellatrix Black, who was participating in the attack and had been keeping a wild eye out for both of her sisters, unable to find either of them until that point.

Lucinda Talkalot & Mary Macdonald

Nobody could believe it when, following the evacuation of the castle onto the school lawn, Gryffindor seventh year Mary Macdonald began firing curses at people at random, injuring several other students and sowing chaos. Topping the list of those who couldn’t believe it was the REAL Mary Macdonald, not the Polyjuice-enabled Death Eater double, standing on the lawn holding her throbbing head, which she’d bumped during the stumble out of the castle, and trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Fortunately, she had a witness in Lucinda Talkalot, standing beside her on the lawn and also trying to work out what the hell was happening – and which Mary was the real deal.

Marya Warrington & Ava Avery

Both women found themselves in Hogsmeade Village for what was supposed to be a lovely, relaxing getaway with their respective families. Marya Warrington had been taken into the village by her husband Tyler Warrington for a surprise, overnight trip to the town’s local bed & breakfast where they’d once spent a romantic evening in their younger days. His plan was simple; stay with Marya on Friday night, send her back to London early on Saturday morning...and hold on to the hotel room for another night, once it had been magically enhanced with wards and unplottable hexes, to provide a nearby place to hold the kidnapped Lily Evans while the Aurors searched farther away and lost track of the young captive.

But Tyler’s plan went wrong long before the kidnapping was foiled. Marya was supposed to be on her way back to London...but the day was so beautiful, and her son Nathaniel was safe with relatives back home who’d been eager to babysit and spoil him...she just had to spend a little extra time in the village.

Ava’s situation paralleled Marya’s own. She was in town to meet up for tea – or a stronger drink – with her brother Aiden, who’d been busying himself with work and refusing to commit to solid plans. She waited for him at the cafe and the appointed time and place...but he never showed. Wondering if her brother was in trouble or merely being insensitive, Ava wandered out into the street. Just in time to see the unfolding chaos. The attack in the village sent her into uncomfortable, horrible flashbacks of her brother Archer dying in a similar manner, on that same dusty street.

Marya and Ava found one another in the crowd and sought out the other’s famiiar face as a partner to take cover and hide with.

Remus Lupin & Emma Vanity (ft. Antonin Dolohov)

Remus Lupin and Emma Vanity rose to the occasion the moment Albus Dumbledore called for prefects to begin leading their respective charges out of the horrifyingly dark castle. Emma found herself flashing back to the last time a frightening incident happened near the castle, as well as to when she was stuck in the middle of the werewolf attack on the Ministry the summer before. Panicking, worried for her safety, Emma started searching for a more familiar face once she was out on the lawn and once the spells started being let loose among the crowd. Someone to help her, or at least to be an anchor back to reality as her thoughts began to spiral back to the previous attacks. Remus was nearby, and saw his friend looking terrified, frozen. Immediately he made his way over to her, keeping her close… but something peculiar caught his eye soon after, while his friends Lily and James were still deliberating on what to do.

He saw Mary Macdonald, one of his best friends, but he had just seen her only moments ago helping another student. This Mary was standing calmly in the middle of the crowd, her wand out, slowly swiveling in different directions: Remus saw one flash of red light erupt from “Mary’s” wand and immediately came to an understanding. That wasn’t the real Mary Macdonald. Springing into action, Remus whipped a stinging charm at the imposter, followed by an attempted disarming. The imposter kept their wand, locked eyes with Remus - and Emma, for a slight longer beat - before turning and running through the dense crowd, almost immediately hidden. Plenty of people saw Remus fling a spell at his muggleborn friend, though, which might spell a bit of trouble until the real Mary can vouch for him.

Antonin Dolohov & Evan Rosier

Antonin Dolohov was one of the two chosen Death Eaters to take Polyjuice potion (care of their man on the inside, Regulus Black himself) and stir up trouble during the expected Hogwarts evacuation onto the lawn. Disguised perfectly as a muggleborn student, Antonin kept quiet and unassuming as the terrified crowd began to panic and push, shooting spells off into the nearby distance to aid the process along. Unfortunately, he was spotted: by none other than Remus Lupin and Emma Vanity, the latter of which being one of his closest friends. Lupin got a good hit on him but Antonin couldn’t risk a full blown retaliation; if he was somehow captured and found out, he couldn’t think of a worse place to do it. Especially with Emma right there.

Antonin did the smart thing and ran for it, melting into the front of the surging crowd towards Hogsmeade. He could already feel the Polyjuice potion slipping as they reached the familiar cobbled streets, and he, limping from Lupin’s hex, surged into the first alleyway he could find to let the process happen. Then he could don his mask and re-join the fray with proper backup this time. He wasn’t expecting Evan Rosier, calmer than most during the chaos, to see him staggering away. He certainly wasn’t expecting Evan to be standing there when Antonin turned back around, features just about done sliding into place but no matter what a man exactly where he shouldn’t be. No mask, no concealment.

Anastazie Dolohov & Benjy Fenwick

Benjy Fenwick had been on castle-arrest ever since his real arrest left him under scrutiny of the law and of the school board. However, even Hogwarts isn’t cruel enough...on purpose...to make a student stay inside during a blackout and evacuation, no matter how much trouble they’d caused. Benjy was led out onto the lawn alongside all the other students - including Prefect Anastazie Dolohov, who was leading one of the evacuation waves from the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall. While Benjy was taken aback by the sudden chaos, Tazie had her eyes on the prize...as always. While the Head Boy and Head Girl were distracted, the sixth year aspiring Head decided to take matters into her own hands. Tazie began corralling and commanding students, getting them into line and genuinely succeeding in reducing their levels of panic. The time to showcase her abilities as a capable leader was upon her and – having no idea that her own brother was one of the imposter students she was putting up a shield charm to protect her younger peers against – she rose to the occasion valiantly.

Dorcas Meadowes & Vince Sinclair

Dorcas Meadowes was in the throng of confused, scared students in Hogsmeade when the masked terrorists began apparating onto the scene. A stray stunning spell - luckily not terribly malignant - struck the Ravenclaw’s leg and she went down, unable to move and certainly invisible to the roiling crowd around her started to run in every direction. Vince Sinclair, hood up and magical glamor up to protect his features from being distinguishable, saw his younger friend hit the cobbled street from his position on the sidewalk. Running for her and pulling her safely away from the worst of the crowd, his glamor slipped just barely in the panicked moment; Dorcas got an eyeful, but Vince was already more preoccupied with the attempted kidnapping now happening not far from them to worry too much about his identity being found out by a friend. 

Without a second thought - his usual modus operandi - Vince bolted for the stalemate between the Death Eaters and aurors. Dorcas, still tending her wounded leg, managed to whip her wand out and cast a spell of her own design at the masked man holding Lily Evans at wandpoint. The spell gave the terrorist a sudden, confusing migraine: just enough to throw him off balance, unable to cast a counter-curse at the approaching Vince; and allowing the vigilante to tear his mask off to reveal the man behind it.

Remus Lupin & Davey Gudgeon

Davey had been down in the school kitchens - not in the Great Hall - when the blackout occurred and, due to the longer distance he had to travel solo to make it out of the castle in time, sustained multiple (but not serious) injuries. He was quick to realize that he was not the only injured student – and, though he couldn’t immediately tell what the source of the chaos was, he realized that the number of injured and panicked students was growing. It was his idea to move students in need of medical attention to the Quidditch Pitch, rather than following the evacuation down to Hogsmeade Village. His quick thinking (whether by luck or design) allowed a good number of his peers to avoid the chaos that quickly unfolded in the nearby town. Davey was able to keep everyone in good spirits and provided a lot of people in need a bright spot on a dark day.

Soon after the attacks in the village, Davey was joined by Remus Lupin. The two – united by their bond of being the two Hogwarts students who arguably spent more time than anyone else in the Hospital Wing – quickly got to work, taking charge of transporting injured students up to the hospital wing once the castle reopened and staying by Madame Pomfrey’s side to assist as needed. Thanks to the chaos in the village below, it’s a good thing they stayed to help; there were plenty of injuries to be tended to and the matron needed all the reliable hands she could get. 

Remus’s stint as assistant nurse came to a halt when Dumbledore showed up to collect him for questioning about his involvement allegedly attacking Mary Macdonald on the grounds. 

Davey was left alone...which would have been the perfect time for him to talk to his ex-girlfriend Dorcas Meadowes, who’d also been brought in to be checked for injuries. However, she too was soon pulled away for questioning...by none other than Head Auror Alastor Moody who had a stern look on his face and didn’t return the Ravenclaw to her tower until half-past midnight. 

Gretchen Ollivander & Bellatrix Black

The story is an old, familiar one. Gretchen was in town with the Order, ready to stop what was described to her ahead of time as a heist. Bellatrix was there with the Death Eaters, hungry to prove her worth and eager to assist with the kidnapping – and example-making – of the muggleborn Lily Evans. Among the chaos of the village, the two women began to duel, something uncomfortably familiar about the other’s fighting style. Bellatrx began to win by a wide margin, causing significant injuries to Gretchen.

Bellatrix may have come out victorious...if not for the distracting, nearby sight of her youngest sister, Narcissa Black, clinging to and accepting the protection of their estranged cousin, Sirius Black. That, plus the notable absence of the girls’ other sister Andromeda Black, was enough to give Gretchen the upper hand she needed. Gretchen may have succeeded in harming Bellatrix worse than she did, if not for the interruption of the kidnapping threat and the subsequent unmasking of Archer Nott.

THE ENDGAMES - WHERE IS EVERYONE FOLLOWING THE EVENTS OF THE DAY?

Anastazie Dolohov - Awarded 100 points for Ravenclaw and given a commendation by the school for her role in leading and protecting her fellow students during the chaos

Antonin Dolohov - Apparated away from with Igor Karkaroff, headed for a post-mission rendezvous point

Ava Avery - In the confused ruins of Hogsmeade, in the company of Marya Warrington

Bellatrix Black - Apparated away from with the rest of the Death Eaters, headed for a post-mission rendezvous point

Benjy Fenwick - Returned safely to Hogwarts (and his grounding)

Daniyah Burke - Apparated away with the rest of the Order, heading for HQ

Davey Gudgeon - Helping out in the Hospital Wing of the school after transporting the injured from the Quidditch Pitch triage area

Dorcas Meadowes - Taken to the Hospital Wing very briefly before being ushered away by Moody & Dumbledore for ‘official questioning’ for her involvement

Emma Vanity - Returned safely to Hogwarts

Evan Rosier - Returned safely to Hogwarts...with a secret

Gideon Prewett - Apparated away with the rest of the Order, heading for HQ

Geraldine Ollivander - In Diagon Alley

Gretchen Ollivander - Apparated away with the rest of the Order, heading for HQ

Lily Evans - In St. Mungo’s, being treated for her injuries and evaluated by a worried McGonagall

Lucinda Talkalot - Returned safely to Hogwarts

Mary Macdonald - Called in for questioning in the Headmaster’s office about her role in the attack/potential double/the confusion of the day. Uninjured but dealing with the wary stares of her peers.

Marya Warrington- In the confused ruins of Hogsmeade, in the company of Ava Avery

Narcissa Black - Returned safely to Hogwarts

Remus Lupin - Returned safely to Hogwarts and worked to bring injured students from the Quidditch Pitch triage to the hospital wing for treatment...however, he was soon called into the Headmaster’s office for questioning regarding those who witnessed his “attack” of fellow Gryffindor student Mary Macdonald

Sebastian Nott - After apparating away from Hogsmeade, headed first to St. Mungo’s to visit Lily instead of his father and then, after a brief appearance at the post-mission rendezvous point, straight to the Ministry to comment on the “news” of his father’s arrest

Sirius Black - Returned safely to Hogwarts

Vince Sinclair - Apparated away with the rest of the Order, heading for HQ...with major bragging rights

[hungryflowers]

Wings of Wax

Title: Wings Of Wax

 Fandom: Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel

Character Pair/Relationship: Alastor/Husk

 Note(s)/Author’s Words: This is considered a continuation of my first story “Hush”. This kicks off where it left off, showcasing what the physical show of what Alastor wanted. This story is even more fucked than the first one. Feel free to tell me what you think. Critiques are welcomed! Bricks and angry mobs with torches are not! Enjoy my shitshow!!!!

       The shadow of the deer demon haphazardly deposited the horror stricken cat demon onto the gargantuan red silk duvet before retreating back towards the being it was summoned from. Husk still couldn’t quite grasp what was happening to the younger male as he dragged himself further atop the king-sized mattress. Still, he gazed at him as Alastor remained at the door. The shadow moved to materialize again; coming from behind and locking the door with a resounding, gut-clenching click.

Now trapped with Alastor, Husk’s only other option would be to have to fight the demon. The only draw back being… No one had ever fought, or even lived long enough to see the Radio Demon in his true, abominable form. ‘I’ll have to be the first…’ The cat’s wings pressed deeper into his back, tail curling in between his legs, ears flattened to his skull. His muzzle scrunched in a snarl, a ragged noise pushing out his nose as he readied himself for his impulsive attack.

A pattern of attack was gone the moment Alastor took four to seven massive steps to the bed. He leered at him, gaze sharper than any of the knives or blades he’d gotten from any of the mass exterminations. Eyes unblinking even as his talons raked over the silk sheets. Husk scooted further up the bed, his feet nearly caught by the long, gleaming red claws. Then, in a savage drawl, Alastor slammed his nails into the bed hard enough to tear into the mattress.

Another out-of-character scream ripped out of Husk’s mouth, body caving as he cowered, his head bashing against the headboard in panic. He started to tremor, his whole body vibrating so much, one would nearly hear his bones popping and rattling. Orange eyes, colored like the softest harvest moons, darted away swiftly as his wings shot up to cover his pitiful attempt at holding back his tears. The sound that he made from his exasperated throat was supposed to be a purr or snort, but only came into the air as a choked sniveling cough. Soon the room was consumed by the ugly sound of his pathetic sobs.

The unholy eldritch’s head tilted abnormally, its expressionless face contorting into something that could not be perceived as an emotion. Staticky clattering came from the demon’s teeth as he registered the small, frailer looking cat. Tactfully, he ran his claws through the fur on the cat’s leg. The delicate touches were of mock pity as he began to imitate the same purring noise Husk had no power to stop.

He continued to run his fingers through sweat-drenched, coarse fur as the form began to melt into someone familiar. The whole time, Husk’s eyes were closed, fighting off the futile tears as they fell to the bed. When he mustered enough resolve to open them, Alastor’s beastly form had returned to normalcy, save the oddly soft smile that was in the place of his harsh, toothy grin. His eyes even gave off an unusually faint glow.

His gloved fingers rubbed softly on the surface of Husk’s wings, feathers long and plush being swept and carried by the Radio Demon’s abnormally soft touch. Alastor kept rubbing his wings, periodically going to his fur to run his fingers in it in a motion similar to having a comb.

Husk didn’t have to ask in order to figure what Alastor was doing: The demon was grooming him into calming down. And tried to manipulate him into purring. Husk hated hearing the sounds even more than feeling them rumble and pulsate out of his chest. But to Alastor, it was riveting. A salacious joy to partake in, regardless if Husk himself didn’t enjoy it. He loved doing things Husk did not enjoy.

The cat demon flinched with every soft touch, something coming from his mouth, but not loud enough to be considered a sound. What Alastor could make from the sound could have been a sigh, or a gasp.

“There, there…”, The twinge in his voice made him sound a bit hoarse at first; kind of like he had been coughing a while, “Doesn’t this feel nice?” He went on as he crawled onto the bed, his body encompassing the smaller cat, who’s wings pulled further up his body. He kept himself in a closed, shivering ball just in reach of the demon’s reddened, gloved finger tips. Minutely, Husk found his eyes closing, then coming open slowly.

The more Alastor stroked up his fur, the less likely his fight or flight response would convey the Radio Demon as a threat. It was becoming difficult to not fall into his need for the touch. The complacency of comfort that was usually associated with someone attempting to be affectionate with him. As a 7′3 cat demon, Husk made it a point to show he wasn’t cute. Or required general affection or touch.

It was easy enough. Often he’d be fighting to protect his turf, or kick out needless squatters at his bar. In either circumstance, Husk was more than a little terrifying. But never to Alastor.

The cat began to unwrap himself from the ball he turned himself into, his paws hiding long, sharp pointed nails in case the Radio Demon would be ready to take him down.

“Al… Don’t. I don’t know- what brought this on?” Husk stammered as he pushed his head bumped the headboard. He tried his damnedest to stop the shaking in his lower body.

“What brought this on?,” Alastor’s head cocked questioningly. He was on his knees when removed his overcoat, casually flinging the wardrobe onto the loveseat on the side of the room, “I’m quite surprised that you don’t remember what happened so long ago. This…,” his hands went up Husk’s slender thighs, claws grasping tenderly there, “What I’ve felt for you hasn’t at all changed.”

Before Husk could snap back, he swiftly yanked his claws into the sheets as he suddenly was dragged to be placed parallel of Alastor’s hips.

“I… I remember!”, he snarled quickly, grinding his teeth hard enough to shoot sparks from his mouth, “I remember what you tried to do! I remembered feeling your hands, your nails running through my fur as you put your revolting tongue on me! I still get sick knowing that you were rubbing your cock on me while you kissed and tongued my neck.” His tone wavered, yet he still growled defiantly at the demon that sat above him. The one who was always above. And he put him there.

Alastor remained focused on Husk as he spoke, more desperately yelled, his case to him. The whole time he kept rubbing his fingers through the fur on the cat’s hips hoping that he’d shutter them into moving. He moved his palms up and down, twitching his thumbs on the upper part of the cat’s hipbone. His face appeared dreamy, whimsy with his glance. Without changing his position too much, Alastor managed to hike Husk’s legs onto his shoulders, the sudden motion making him growl in anger.

“Good, because I also remember how your paws felt as I shoved them into the mud, or the way you groaned as you pretended to hate me. But I also remember feeling…”, he trailed off removing his hands from the cat’s hip to grab painfully at his throat, pushing down on his windpipe suddenly, “your nails in my legs as you surged up to nearly rip out my throat.”

“I-I- I w-won’t apolo- apologize for-for that!” Husk wheezed to the point of asphyxiation. The bending of his body made the suffocation much worse; the pressure Alastor caused was making him grip the Radio Demon’s shoulders tighter with his legs.

"I wouldn’t expect any less,” Alastor closed his sanguine red eyes, relishing in the clenching of the cat’s legs tightening around, “I don’t think you can comprehend how much I wanted to ravish you the time we met.” The Radio Demon began to grind into Husk’s rump, seeing him twitch and squirm as he fought to remain still.

The giant cat bit his tongue, forcing a whimper that wanted to make this situation much worse. His thighs trembled softly as the taller demon pumped against him with vigor. For a few aching minutes Alastor ground himself into Husk, occasionally leaning over to peck him on his cheek. Electricity shot through the cat as he felt Alastor’s genitals brush against him. Unconsciously, Husk began to grind his body down in order to reciprocate those jolts of dizzying pleasure. His face began to warm, wings near his back fluttering with the exasperated pants of the large cat.

Feeling the older male giving in, Alastor removed his hands from the previously strangled cat’s neck, granting slight reprieve. It didn’t last as long as the cat would like as Alastor moved back; his shoulders still bracketing Husk’s lengthy legs as he moved to get as low as allowed.

“Sweet kitten… my dearest sweet kitty,” Alastor started as his face hovered just above Husk’s panting belly, “I’ve been giddy with this urge to devour you for too long. I think the only thing that has kept you from me was my need to keep busy. That changes now.”

The fog in Husk’s mind subsided enough for him to notice Alastor was no longer grinding into him, instead his head was hovering just above his belly. That was when the realization dawned. In the time it took for him to muscle enough strength to move back, Alastor’s face was in between his thighs licking at him feverishly. A surprised cry came from Husk as his claws shot out to grab onto the Radio Demon’s horns, not entirely sure if he was trying to push him away or further him along. Either option made this torture worse. Not thinking on it, Husk’s claws grated into Alastor’s hair pulling the young man deeper.

The cat’s cheeks burned; whether from the shame of giving up so quickly or a new found rage for the demon who was currently tongue deep inside him, he couldn’t make himself know. What he did know however, was that this was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long while. It was so good, the cat’s body was beginning to do the opposite of what his mind was telling it. For every exhale of heated breath, Husk’s lower body arched in a bow in order to get feel for a better angle. When that tongue touched a sensitive spot; on or inside of Husk, the cat would crow and moan pathetically.

Alastor internally wished he could see the cat’s face contorting and fissuring from the strain of failing to contain his arousal. For now, feeling his thighs clench over his head as his tongue wriggled about inside him was more than enough confirmation he was enjoying himself. He wanted to hear more of the cat’s cries and purrs, so he lifted up a bit more while his right hand palmed the erecting phallus hanging loosely in between the cat’s legs.

“Stop! Al-Alastor! Pl–”, His fangs went into his lips, biting off the pleas before they were wrenched out. One of his claws remaining in the demon’s hair as the other ripped into his clothing.

A burst of hunger rattled throughout Alastor at the feel of those long nails digging into his back. A deep trembling growl came forth as his mind became laced with static. The cat’s willfulness to act on this was something the deer demon had counted on, but not so quickly. He wanted more of it! And so much of it. His gloved hand played about with Husk’s pecker more, his head and tongue still in between the cat demon’s thighs. Above him, he could continuously hear the begging falling from the cat’s lips, “No, No! Please… Oh, god” he’d be whispering and chanting to himself.

The whole scene went for what could have felt like hours but were merely minutes in normal time. One of Husk’s claws broke the flesh on Alastor’s back as he tried to either attack him or bring him closer. The fresh stinking of blood– fully well knowing it was his own blood– drove Alastor into a sex crazed fritz. His tongue left from the inside of Husk; much to his silent relief, and wrapped around the cat demon’s red, bulbous phallus.

“Oh! Alastor!” Husk screamed suddenly, his wings flapping frantically but not being able to get any lift. He began to struggle as he felt his impending climax surfacing; pressure in his lower back and hips giving the warning.

With the changing of position, Alastor could now see the cat demon’s face: And his eyes shot wide as he bobbed up and down on the older male’s cock. The male cat’s face was gloriously slack and strained. Ears fell back as his eyes rolled back in his head with fervor and ecstasy. His mouth hung open as he sucked in deep, loud pants of heated air. Seeing his old partner like his was everything Alastor wanted to see the first time he ever met him. Shame it took him this long to finally get him to this.

While he celebrated this victory, Husk had tensed and froze all together. His back had reached a perfect arch as he growled loud enough to vibrate the air. Alastor looked up at him as the male had reached his climax; jaws hung open in a silent shout as his talons pulled into Alastor’s back even more. He wasn’t even disgusted by the taste of the cat’s seed on his tongue. The warm liquid steadily pumped down his throat as he swallowed Husk to the hilt. Plus, he didn’t stop afterwards; he hollowed his cheeks more and bobbed his head in the same rhythm as before.  

“No! No! Ala-”, Husk crooned weakly at the motion of Alastor’s tongue slipping over his cock, “I-I can’t ta-take it!” A sob bubbled from him as Husk kept kicking and fighting through his climax. About a minute later, Alastor released his hold, merely watching as the cat demon’s erection slid from his mouth.

He pulled forward his silk handkerchief from a small pocket, using the fabric to clean any residual seed from his lips. While that happened, Husk’s limbs shivered as he struggled to figure out what was going on. His eyes blearily looked around the room until he looked down at himself, and the Radio Demon hunched in between his legs.

“Alastor…” It didn’t come out as a question. Husk didn’t know what he wanted to say to him. The demon that had his mouth on his cock, took the words from the cat. Hard orange eyes had become softened due to his climax. Reflexively the cat demon’s claws dug into the silk duvet. His ears folded on the pillow that had been pushed underneath his head. The firmness made sitting up even a bit easier.

Alastor’s grin never wavered, his eyes going sharp as he drug himself atop the bed. When he was face to face with the cat, he leant in. The top half of his chest was now pressing down on Husk’s. He measured the slightly hitched breathing as his gaze went to Husk’s lips. He didn’t give Husk the chance to block his offense as his lips collided the cats’. Alastor kept his gaze on the cat, eyes never closing as their lips remained locked. Sanguine colored eyes shuddered in the vibrancy of the contrasting red and black room. Soon the quiet of the room was interrupted as Husk’s lips entangled with the younger demon’s in earnest. He made a futile attempt to push him off, only for Alastor to reach between them, gather both of his claws, and pin them to the top of the bed.

Well and truly trapped, Husk could only groan… His claws were held above his head in the manner similar to the way Alastor held him the first time. His mouth opened to breath in the air of Alastor, nearly crying out in his mouth as he felt the Radio Demon’s tongue delve inside. For a few solid minutes, their lips slipped and squelched off each other in wet, delicious pops and licks. Husk closed his eyes, not trying to observe what his body had been reduced to. Vocally, he purred softly. It came out of him so quietly, he didn’t acknowledge it until Alastor’s tongue was halfway down his throat.

The cat below him began to squirm with the intrusion of his long tongue. The appendage going down his throat, to the top of his mouth and more. When noticed Husk’s chest heaving he stopped kissing him, but merely hovered over the smaller cat. The old male couldn’t bring himself to look at his violator. He had to remind himself that what Alastor wanted was in no way consensual. This was what Husk should’ve been more careful to avoid. He should not have let his guard down for such an extended period. Husk had gambled his luck the first time; a successful gamble it was. The Radio Demon, at the time, didn’t know who he had been facing. And the desire to suddenly be inside of Husk made him clumsy, arrogant, forgetful, as well as neglectful.  

Now the cards and luck turned against the old man as he shuddered to the feeling of the young man pecking and licking his neck, he cringed with the feeling of the sharpened teeth against his throat. A gesture reminiscent of the time Husk threatened to bleed the demon dry. He wondered if he would want to taste his blood. If afterwards, when he dumped himself inside of his abused body, he’d want the cat to experience the same pain of having his throat bit into. Would the demon revel in watching the light fade from his eyes as he gulped his fluids greedily and then depositing the drained corpse that was Husk?

A sniveling groan came from Husk as he felt Alastor’s teeth nip into his collarbone. Another pathetic noise mustered from Husk as Alastor’s teeth scraped along his arm.

“Stop it,” The younger demon said suddenly, a vicious snarl accompanying the words, “Stop making that putrid noise this instant.”

The cat was about to let loose a sob but remembered himself enough to hold it in. This whole scene was misery and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was pinned by the demon’s weight as Alastor began to feel on everything. His eyes darted somewhere else, at a place where wasn’t looking at the larger demon. He felt some relief when Alastor pulled himself off in order to undo his pants. The sound of clasps being undone and his belt unwrapping made Husk sick to his stomach. In a renewed strife, Husk fought back against Alastor’s hold. He kicked, shoved, and floundered all over the bed all in an attempt to get out of his grasp.

Alastor could see the fight returning to the old cat and began to maneuver his grip so that he was now holding both of Husk’s wrist’s. With that step done, Alastor dragged the cat’s body further up the bed, his wings scraping with resistance. Those noises from earlier, Husk crying and sniveling, came back and louder than before. In desperation and despair, the cat’s eyes; full of unshed tears, began to spill over, the wet drops sinking into his fur.

“No! No! Please, I don’t want this!,” He sobbed out, “What are you tryin’ to get out of this?! Why are you doin’ this?!”

Those questions struck a chord in the Radio Demon. He remembers a time too long forgotten when his victims would plea and snivel for their lives. And would ask him the “what’s”, and the “why’s”. Back then, Alastor didn’t tell them why. Or what for. There was no point in entertaining a dead guest. And the looks; their last living gazes as he butchered would solidify his “what’s” and “why’s”. He didn’t love tormenting his dead weight victims… He lavished in the sickened stinking of their blood as it decorated his suit. The adrenaline he got from his murders would shoot through every corner of his body, lighting up his veins with a cocktail that couldn’t be chilled out.

He hated how his body worked when he killed his prey. He shuddered with disgust at how aroused his body got at watching the dismemberment of a body. Often his cock would get unnecessarily hard. But he didn’t wish to enter a brothel, or head home to work it out himself. He hated how his own body distracted and bothered him. Unwillingly, he’d pull himself free with a violent tug and pleasure himself with the intermingling scent of himself and blood of the prey.

His orgasms left him empty, devoid of the rush he had gotten before. It left him cold and apathetic as he numbly looked at his spunk as it trailed down his fingers. He put himself away, choosing to gather his things and contemplated where his next kill should be. And who will be next.

“Why?…,” He could have been talking to Husk to answer his question, but he was looking at the pillow above his head. And not Husk, “For love, my darling.”

The trembling cat underneath him knew better. Nothing about this was about love. This was about getting something. This was all about taking something that he couldn’t have to begin with. Love was not a thing Alastor felt. Except for himself and his motives. But to love someone?

“This ain’t love!,” Husk snarled as he powered up again only to be forced back into the mattress, “You don’t love me! You never have!” Husk renewed his attempts to fight Alastor. Along with his grip.

Nothing verbal came from the larger demon as the feline tried to get himself away out of his grasp. His gaze intensifying as he looked down at the cat demon. Saliva began to collect in his mouth while he watched him wriggle and struggle. A quickening thrummed through his heart as he listened to the way Husk cried and groaned. Soon, the cat was beginning to tire; he had put too much effort into struggling to only realize that he wasn’t going to be released.

“Tired, sweet thing?”, Alastor jabbed with mock sympathy, “Poor Husk… don’t you worry too much now. This will feel good. You will love it. And I want you to tell me that ‘you want this.” Pulling his pants down a little further exposed more of Alastor’s cock. Pathetically, Husk worked by dragging his feet along the cool duvet, appearing to almost be grinding his hips in order to feel comfortable. His paws flexed in Alastor’s hands as he used his fingers to press into his paw pads.

Husk turned his head to the side now, since he no longer had fight in him, the least he made himself do was not look at Alastor while this happened. His body heat came out as a simpering cold, stages of shock starting to ice him over. He didn’t even move when Alastor pressed his lips against his cheek and chin. He whispered something to him, whether Husk was listening or not Alastor didn’t think to care, as he pushed himself slowly into the cat. He wriggled and squirmed with the intrusion, his back arching as he sucked in a sudden pant.

A shout was stuck in Husk’s throat as he felt the larger demon push himself in further. On instinct, his wing flared and flapped; the feathers loudly colliding with the sheets and headboard. Husk’s claws sheathed and unsheathed, the method causing Husk to think on that instead of Alastor’s short thrusts. Alastor panted in the cat’s massive ears, knees scooting inward as he bottomed out completely; causing both to make an exasperated or relieved noise.

He stayed like that, taking the feeling of Husk around him, watching the cat’s deflating persona as he looked away from him, instead choosing to look at his restrained paws. He stayed oddly silent, save his heavy breathing. The fight he had previously, the sounds of his sobs and cries, his trembling form, had ceased entirely. He was nothing now. His eyes illuminated in a way to show he was alive, but there was nothing that could seen beyond them.

Curiously, Alastor bit down on the cat’s neck harshly, hoping to a reaction from him. He flinched and breathed, but did not much else. He lifted a brow, feeling a bit different to Husk freezing underneath him.

“Husk…”, he moaned softly, trying to get him to rouse with his voice, “Oh, Husk…” He slowly moved his hips and chuckled when Husk gasped in response. When he felt he had the cat’s attention, Alastor began a languid but hard pace; he pushed on Husk’s body in order to bring him closer and on his thrusts. That made a little noise but it wasn’t satisfying. Still, he went with his slow pace but kept his movements sharp. He pressed his head into the cat’s chest as he thrust harder. The cat didn’t react.

Growing more irate than aroused, Alastor’s fingers dug into Husk’s paw pads with enough pressure to get Husk’s eyes to widen. That finally made the cat look up at his rapist. His face looked bizarre, empty looking. Not pain, fear, horror, or even pleasure. Alastor couldn’t tell what his face was supposed to look like. He hadn’t actually done this before… He had only touched himself and that felt disgusting. But he’s wanted Husk for such a sinful amount of time. This was his reward… so why wasn’t Husk enjoying it?

The idea of Husk not taking enjoyment in this made the larger demon snarl loudly. He pushed down on Husk’s arms more and bit him in the collarbone with enough force to draw blood. The cat demon growled and tried to wiggle a bit, but he was still trapped under Alastor’s thrusting form. He didn’t make much noise, save a few hisses from the thrusts, and that was now beginning to piss the Radio Demon off. He was seething so bad that he had released Husk’s paws and settled them on his waist to push himself in more, his gloved claws dragging bloodied lines down his frame.

Husk screamed. It wasn’t from the pleasure. His body couldn’t find any pleasure in any of this. In the blur of the quick slash down his waist, he could feel trails of blood leak out on the bed. With his paws free, Husk at least tried to shove at Alastor, but just didn’t have enough resolve to get him off fully.

Above him Alastor started to move faster, his thrusts becoming less hard and more pointed, his hips moving quickly to piston inside of Husk. During that, Husk’s back began to arch, loud symphonic purring coming to the surface now. After a few seconds, his purrs shifted into quiet but soft moans. Not as quiet to Alastor’s ears as he pursued the noises and pushed himself deeper inside Husk to get a taste of those delicate moans.

While he was doing that, his claws kept scraping and scarring the cat demon’s skin, leaving deep, pressured lines all over him. For the first time in his life in Hell, Alastor began to feel heavy pinpoints of actual arousal. Instead of rough, soundless pants, he was starting to pant softly, groan to the inside of his captor as he fucked the cat in the only way he could think of. He found himself hiking Husk’s legs up more, going much deeper than before. His claws went from his waist and grabbed onto the sheets on either side of Husk’s head; the cat pivoting his head to not look at him.

‘Not again!’ The larger demon snarled in his mind as he turned Husk’s head to look at him. To force him to stare directly at him.

“Look at me,” He hissed in an audible warning, “You are going to look at me. I want you to watch as I fuck you like this. Do you understand?”

The cat demon nodded. And then nearly cried out when Alastor shoved in much harder than previously.

“I didn’t get that. Do you understand?” He slowed his thrusts in order to emphasize the stroke. He waited on the reply. It wasn’t going to be a ‘no’. Not if the cat wanted to get out of this alive.

“Y-Yess. Yes… please.” His voice was cracky, weakening from the lack of choice he had at the moment.

“Wonderful!”, Alastor stated almost too jubilantly, “Oh Husky, I have every intent on making you feel good.”

While he spoke Husk suddenly started to feel woozy. Sickly looking as well. Before Alastor could even figure what was happening outside his world, the cat demon lurched hard to the left side and vomited violently.

The smell of it tingled on alcohol and a meal the cat had prior, but looked like bile. Husk coughed while retching, his chest huffing up and down as more came up. He shivered harshly before coughing again. The whole side of the bed and floor was soaked in the mess. With the combination of the sex and vomit, Husk felt awful.

And Alastor laughed, not fully, it was a half hearted chuckle as he pumped into the cat more.

“Looks like someone made a mess,” the Radio demon mocked as he stroked the satin duvet and thrust into Husk more, “I’ll clean it up later.” Then he pinned him down and began to pump harder and faster.

Husk moaned, much louder than he intended. His body flexed and arched with each precise, yet painful thrust. One pinprick of a thrust later, his wings shivered as his chest heaved. He pushed a forceful pant as Alastor reoriented a such thrust that forced him to put a claw on Alastor’s shoulder.

The whole time, the eldritch bastard kept that sadistic smile on his face. He leant down, placing his lips on Husk’s; the kiss deepening as Husk moaned into the kiss. He found he lavished in watching every twitch, every vibration of the cat demon’s muscles. But he was beginning to love watching his partner’s face in contort with each thrust. He was starting to like this. Every moan, groan, or sharp pant was saying so. Also, Husk barely began his bodily protest. There was not as much vigor to escape as there was to take in what was occurring to him.

When the thrusts became faster, Husk’s started to draw up his own legs into a better angle for each pointed shot. One such thrust caused the cat demon’s face to boil and eyes to roll back as he shivered. He felt Alastor’s lips raise from his as he was pulled in closer, his body being twisted to accommodate the hard hits. The whole while, the cat demon kept his claws in the Radio Demon’s back. He didn’t know if he should let him go, savagely tear his back open, or just leave it so he decided on the last; regardless of his muddled, lust filled mind.

“Al-Alas…”, Husk’s first vocal try to reach the Radio Demon came out as a weak moan. He started fighting back his need for arousal, but every move against him only made him moan more, “Alasstor…” He ended with a hiss. Unconsciously, Husk removed his claws from his back and rubbed softly against Alastor’s ribs. The gesture making Alastor groan a bit, his pace fumbling into a faster grind.

“What a good boy! Such a sweet, sexy kitty cat,” The deer demon was sounding quite pleased, winded even, yet so utterly pleased. This was what he was wanting out of Husk. His submission. His participation. But more than anything… His body. For the first time, which will not be the last time, He had Husk in every way. Now his servant would be serving him with not just his life, but with his body as well, “Keep this up and I’ll reward you so perfectly.” He emphasized by stroking his cheek and neck.

Husk’s moans sounded more frequently as his climax became an impending throb. He couldn’t reach himself in order to stroke off his aching phallus; said member abandoned, waving without stimuli. He resorted himself to arching and bumping against Alastor in order to keep himself a stir for as long as the larger demon fucked into him. At the last second, barely a thrust more before he’d keel over, Alastor placed his gloved hands behind Husk, slid up on his knees, and roughly bringing Husk onto his lap. Positioned on him so that his legs would now hang loosely on either side of Alastor’s hips, Husk screamed out suddenly as the penetration got deeper.

In this position, Husk’s wings were free to dangle of the silkened duvet, the feathers barely clashing the bloody red colors. The cat demon began to shake with vigor as Alastor forced him further down on his cock.

“Deep. So… Deep.” Husk chanted softly, finding out, in horror, that his body was starting to like how much further the thrusts could go. Unintentionally, he wrapped his wings around the larger demon, them being used as a way to hold himself.

While that was happening, Alastor’s claws moved to explore, grab, cut and slice, jab, and bleed Husk’s skin. Blood spots starting to form underneath his sooty fur, many wounds dribbling more profuse than others. Worse yet and adding to his powerful thrusts, Alastor began to bite, more maul, Husk’s neck. Wildly, he bit into the cat’s neck with the intent to bleed him.

“Alastor!” His screamed in rabid panic as he felt his fur being ripped, skin almost peeling, “Alastor! No! No! It hurts!” Husk’s voice cracked, tears spilling from his eyes as tremors of pain rung up and down his body.

Alastor’s eyes appeared to have almost blackened at hearing the weakness in the other’s voice. He didn’t respond verbally, the noise coming from him came out as a snarl or rumbling growl.

“It hurts…” Alastor repeated, pausing his pace for a second, “I’m not hurting you! I’m giving you everything you deserve! I’ve wanted you to have this since the first time I met you. How dare you!,” He snapped, raking his claws down the cat’s already sore back, “I. Would. Never. Hurt. The one. I. Love!” He punctuated every word with a thrust hard enough to make Husk bend and bow.

This couldn’t go on. It didn’t. It was only a matter of time before the dam broke.

On the last thrust, Husk clenched painfully around Alastor; wings flaring open before dropping onto the bed, he couldn’t make anymore noise, –it was barely a  gurgled grumble– as he came harshly all over the lap of Alastor. He trembled, quaked, and shook before he became spineless in the Radio Demon’s lap.

The moment, as well as climax, came and went so abruptly, Alastor didn’t even know that the cat had passed out. Only when he prodded at the cat in a manner that was supposed to be painful did he notice he was unresponsive.

“Kitty cat?… Husky?” He tried, his clawed fingertips probing at Husk’s prone, stagnant face. He almost appeared to be dead. The barest, near invisible rising and falling of his chest; no matter how minute, showed that he was physically still living.

He pulled the creature off his cock and threw him atop the bed, body falling to his side like a limply made ragdoll.

He looked so beautiful… in such a way that aroused Alastor more. But it felt the same as being sexually into a corpse. Which he felt disgusted for thinking about. The cat was alive, in a sense. He didn’t even twitch when he smoothed his gloved fingertip down his chest and stomach. The cat never stirred. He was truly gone.

‘Disappointing.’ His mind muttered as he reoriented himself. Looking himself over he could see the cat’s release all over his shirt and open flaps of his pants. As well as he fully mast erection. He made a nasally grunt as he made himself stand. He felt incredibly tight near his groin area; with his inability to come to his own release. He wasn’t about to stuff himself back in his pants until he could work the pressured charge out of his lower body. But he wasn’t about to fuck the cat’s unconscious body to do that.

He went into his conjoined bath, turned the water to the coldest setting, removed his clothes and stepped in. He had been so charged that he never the bristling cold run over his head and spine. He flinched while feeling the cat’s various claw marks and gashes from where he held him last. Then the smell wafted up his nose. A stinking oily smell that indeed was his blood. He used his smell and the lingering jolts of Husk’s touch as the fuel needed to work himself off.

Alastor didn’t moan, or groan. Hardly any noise came from him, save his breathing, as he palmed and stroked his maddeningly hard erection. He closed his eyes, his head tilting against the freezing tiles as he came all over the floor; that pressure no longer causing him discomfort. After releasing a single relieved pant, Alastor shut off the water and stepped out, leaving his soiled clothes in front of the shower.

He left to his wardrobe to pick out his more casual ensemble: His staple salmon colored button down long sleeve, sharply pressed, tall and tapered simply colored black pants and his small red and black bowtie. He about made it out of his room until he looked over to Husk’s body; whom was beginning to stir but made barely noticeable twitches. He didn’t wish to leave him like this; atop his duvet with various bleeding wounds leaking all over the crimson red sheets. His scars would most likely be prone to infection nothing was done about them.

He grin flashed as he came with an idea to make the cat comfortable. What better way could he think of than a bit of after care?

Carefully, he wormed his hands across Husk, careful to keep his blood off his shirt, picked him up and moved to the bathroom. He kicked away his discarded clothes while he placed the cat inside of his blackened, red painted soaking tub. Humming a merry beat quietly, he rustled through his medicinal cabinet for supplies to treat any serious wounds. Once the herbs and small ointments were found, he came back around to see if Husk had moved. Save his ears twitching, Husk barely stirred. That came as good news for Alastor as he turned on the hot water, hoping to get him to fully awaken. He lifted a brow when not even that woke the cat. He was really out of it. Adjusting the water temperature a bit made it easier for him to touch him as he swabbed the caking blood off of his fur.

He continued like this for a while. Occasionally using his bathing ointment, often used for recurring wound pains, to soothe and wash out all of Husk’s worser wounds. Tenderly, he pressed his lips to the cat’s face whenever he hissed or groaned from the swabs. When Husk began getting well enough to open his eyes, Alastor softly hummed something others wouldn’t have heard. Whatever he did say managed to calm the cat down, his eyes lulling closed as Alastor wiped up some clotting blood. When he had gotten to his neck, the deer demon suddenly could see where he had gone too far.

He poured a great deal of medicinal alcohol onto the bite to keep it from infection. He knew what a huge amount of that would do, so he was prepared when Husk almost shot out of the tub.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He mumbled as he kept a fair grip on Husk’s wings and back. Another badly injured area yet to be cleaned or properly taken care of, which proved to be a worse mistake to touch. Husk yowled and flailed wildly; the pain almost making a run out of the tub.

“No! No! Husk, enough of that!” Alastor chastised before a swift swipe of Husk’s claw dug into his neck.

Calmly, Alastor pulled the nails out of his top collar, and pulled back on Husk to get him in the tub. He checked on his chest and neck for anymore blood, thankful when he found none.

“Alright, kitty. All done.” He spoke softly as he pulled him out of the dirty water. He reached behind him to gather the towel he would swaddle him in to keep him warm. The bath all taken care of, Alastor thoroughly dried off his small partner and leant him down to cover him in the blankets. Husk didn’t open his eyes as any, or all, energy left his body.

Fur now cleaned, skin tended to, as well as all wounds patched up, Alastor made himself pat the smaller cat as he slept; totally unaware of the surroundings he had been placed in. His chipper grin wavered a bit, forming something of a smile with genuine emotion behind it. Both of his hands moved down the cat’s prone body before he could process a reason to why. Indifference, apathy as well boiled out of the fearsome demon’s chest. An urge to just jump in bed next to the sleeping mass of fur had to be physically resisted as he moved away from the bed.

Grin restored Alastor chuckled to himself giddily. He wanted to head downstairs and brag to anyone. Everyone perhaps about his lascivious encounter with the Hotel’s barkeep. Alastor shook his head hard enough to rattle those intrusive thoughts out of it. He is one of a silent, less obvious pride. Unlike Angel Dust, who’d go on about who he had shared a bed with the night before, Alastor wouldn’t tell them. They would have to ask about a ‘sex life’ that he would make them believe he had. So long as subtlety remained apart of his guise, the heated tryst would be between Husk and him alone.

His room remained dark before he walked out of it, not concerning himself with opening the drapes for the moment as it was already sundown.

             Feint dancing of candescent lighting made the study appear much brighter than it usually did. With blinks so slight, Alastor saw shadows move across the floor. Save his breathing tonight, the study was still. Large oak french doors didn’t creak as they were pushed by the gust of an exterior window on the far right side of the room. Papers, manuscripts, books of plenty; some opened to a chapter and left there, others sprawled out on the counter, their spines bent on the cherrywood table with the story that he couldn’t see.

An Ol’ Fashioned Manhattan in hand, Alastor strode through the quiet room. He doesn’t entertain Charlie or her company this evening, though he can he ghostly whispers of them, and a non too soft guffaw of Angel Dust. He continued his exploration through the dimly lit space, hands on each piece of parchment or note left in a tidy, or discordant mess on various high standing dining room style tables. Some of the letters had calligraphies that seemed like nonsense, others were scribble that a bored 6-year old would do. 

Adjusting his monocle as it loomed off his face just a stitch, he could now see what the Princess of Hell was trying to bring into fruition for the benefit of all her people. For the full reach of Hell. He bent of the table to see what her plans might be, and wondered if there would be any room for his quiet adjustments. His chest rose and fell as he blew out the sigh he had held. 

A knock on the double doors brought Alastor out of his fantasies. One of the heavy doors pushed open, creaking as it did, as a lone, blonde haired figure came through it. 

Princess Charlie was actually not in suit and tie tonight. She garnished a reddish orange tank top with frills along the neck like a neckerchief, dress trousers were replaced with white flowing chiffon pants that scraped at the hardwood as she walked. Her hair had been put up well above her head in a coiling pattern reminiscent of a giant snake.

“I… noticed you weren’t at the table. And we didn’t know if you were hungry, so I left you some leftovers on the counter,” She kept her tone soft with him for some reason. Alastor knew she was much louder, so her change in tone was a change to him, “Also we’re having tea and cakes. Vaggie and I made them. If you want some, help yourself.” Her tone chipper despite her near muted tone.

“Supper had been missed already? Ha! The time does fly here! I’ll be around in a moment for the tea time since I’m still quite full from a previous meal.” The Radio Demon does have a knack or two of lying. Though him joining the small group for tea would be a refreshing afterthought. 

“Great!,” Charlie’s infectious smile made him grin all the more wider. He just loved seeing her beam with such a smile. He lavished in being able to see everyone with that smile. She was about to leave the study before turning sharply, her elbow almost slamming against the closed door, “Oh! And see if Husk wants to come down too. He probably doesn’t want any tea, but we have some beer if he wants it.” 

“I’m afraid my Husky dear will not be able to mingle along with the ritz as all. Poor dear’s had the longest of days and would much prefer to sleep. I’ll bring him some confections after the party,” With that, Alastor strode by Charlie’s side and to where she held the nighttime tea party, “Precious thing needs all the rest. Requires it, actually.” He placed his hands on either side of Charlie’s shoulders as they moved into the dining area. She laughed in his agreement, knowing fully that Husk isn’t the same when he hasn’t the decent amount of sleep.

_______________________________________________________________________

    Him waking should not have taken as much time, nor caused as much pain as it did. Ghoulish numbness trickled all throughout his body, his muscles spasming and shaking. He could barely gain his body, feeling as if he had been maimed and mauled by a beast. He couldn’t process how such a severe pain warred and marred him, he had been sleeping up to now, what... who had attacked him in the night? He couldn’t get his eyes to open, or what have you, it hurt him try to. His limbs felt like large piles of lead. His breathing became much harder, coming out as gasping coughs. Finally Husk’s eyes opened, after forcing them to obey him and it hurt. 

 Husk scanned over himself... and instantly felt sick.

From the top of his neck down to his toes, he was covered in scratches, bite marks and claw patterns that seemed to puncture his skin. His limbs trembled as they soon started to cooperate with him, previous weakness in them dissolving as his senses worked back. Static of pain made Husk cry out when he tried to reorient his legs. They felt like they had been broken. Slammed by something repeatedly until the bones in them became congealed putty.  He’d have to hope for later that wasn’t the case. 

The more the cat demon thought and thought, the more murky and befuddled did they become. Clearly somethings had become remiss since he has now awoken injured. He wanted to know why. He had to figure out what happened to him. He strained and snarled loudly once his back choose that moment to betray him. His right paw shot up to apply pressure, it paused as one of his claws felt on the gashes on his nape and lower part of his back. Miraculously, he didn’t feel any blood on his claw tip, instead he felt fresh scarring that stung as he touched them.

He willed his voice to call out, but the only noise that came was a pained and hoarse rolling growl. He clenched at his throat while rooting around for something he could use to clear it. His breath smelt terribly of some kind of distilled, expired liquor he most likely never drank in his life, combined with dankness and dirtiness of stagnant water.  And it made him smell horrible. 

Shaking out the fuzz that began to occupy his mind, Husk tried his best to figure out where he was. He came to the conclusion that he was not in a bed he was familiar with. He didn’t sleep in his own room on more than one occasion, so that wasn’t what bothered him. What did though was that he had never seen the interior of this room before. The room itself felt too macabre to put away even normal guests of the hotel.

He glanced over the large solid brown oak door of the room, and then to the  velvet red drapery of the nearest tall casement style window.  To the left side of the bed, nestled in the corner appeared some kind of loveseat instead of a full couch. Atop it, the discarded scarlet jacket that must’ve been thrown away for a long time.  It looked almost similar to Alastor’s jacket, but what was it doing in this room. He then gazed at the vanity in front of the massive bed he was sitting in. The mirror atop it reflecting his distressed appearance as his brow furrowed.

'Who in this place has a... Fuck!’ His reflection followed as the realization, and memory swiftly came back. He had only been in this room once. He never entered it unless prior permission had been given.

“This is Alastor’s room!” Husk wheezed out loudly, “What. The. Fuck?!!” His voice became stronger with dissonance.

 His eyes widened, his chest had grown tight as the whiplash caused the room to spin. Husk’s right paw went to the scars on his nape, near his lower back. He felt up his scar at the same moment a tragedy played back in his mind. 

          Husk screamed, a sound that never came from his throat, no matter the situation, as he was grabbed from behind. His ears fell back and his body went numb as a gloved hand scraped into his nape. He overbalanced his head, tilting too far back, causing his hat to tumble to the ground. His face was brought up to Alastor’s, whom of which somehow transformed into a beast no one in Hell had ever lived to see.

His body quaked at the reminiscent feeling of those willowy fingers gripping deep into his fur. His ears dropped low as a rolling, coiling sensation rode through his guts. His vision swam as more of the memory played back in his mind. In it, he could hear a voice. Cracking. Wavering with something bordering on fear.

           “Al…Alas…” He shuddered, his voice cracking. He stumbled Alastor’s name from his paralyzed lips.

 His body twitched subtly as that voice replayed the Radio Demon’s name over and over. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to tell him to stop. Or beg him to. If he was going to beg him at all. Another wave of painful wave of dysphoric nostalgia crashed through him, and this time he gagged from it. His paws shot to his mouth to keep something… anything from coming out. Nothing came, but the iron ball in his gut remained there; pushing on everything, causing his stomach to sink further.

               “Hush, pet… everything is alright…” Nothing about what happened, felt alright to Husk, “this time… you won’t be able to escape me.”

Husk remembered the barest of static in the eldritch’s voice. The sharpening claws digging into his fur. But the rest was a blur in the moment his shadow constricted him. Coiled around him like a snake before dragging him into the room where he is now. He should’ve tried. To escape. At least put up a fight before it all happened.

Knowing what he knows now, Husk makes a break for it.  Shoving off the overly large red duvet, Husk lands one foot on the floor before it spasms.  He gasps in pain as pain shoots up his right leg, to the joint on his hips. The gasps dissipates into a growl as he slides the rest of his body off of the bed.

Just in time for the massive oak door to creak open. And for him to see that grin that make Husk’s stomach drop further.

The Radio Demon comes in with a tray as he closes the solid door of the room. Cutting off any plans that Husk might have used earlier to escape. The cat keeps his eye on Alastor as he set the assortment of baked goods and hot tea confections on a stony, marble chest. He is in a suit more casual than other times he is seen; a simple salmon colored button down long sleeve, black, pressed loose-fitting trousers and his normal red and black bowtie. 

The cat doesn’t take his eyes off him as he pulls out two china glass, floral patterned tea cups and pours two cups.  The aroma is quite nice. Floral scented with hints of orange and lemon. Alastor keeps his eyes trained on the cups as he dots in a couple scoops of sugar and a drizzle of honey. He moves one of the cups off the tray to places it nearest to Husk. The cat breaks contact with the demon for a moment to look at the various brightly colored cookies and small cakes on a different plate. His stomach turns and gurgles. Unconsciously, he puts his paw to his belly, as if trying to silence his minuscule need to eat. 

The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Alastor, who finally locks eyes with Husk, his showcased smile forever etched on his face. 

“Evening…,” he starts, eyes gleaming at the cat who began to divert his gaze on something else in the room, “Supper has been eaten downstairs. Dishes done and tummy’s full. But Charlie thought it nice for a little nighttime tea time. And you have to wake up early in the morning, so I was considerate enough to leave you some confections! See now, don’t say I never gave you something nice.” He chuckled lightly at his words before placing himself on the far left side of the loveseat. Then encouraged Husk to sit next to him by thumping his hand on the spot indicated to sit.

Husk didn’t move. His tail thrashed slowly behind him as he rubbed and scratched at his left arm. He still wasn’t looking at Alastor. He growled silently, ignoring the flaring pains in both of his legs.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Alastor said sweetly. 

The cat flinched at that. At his sweet, soft words. Just in the way he said that made Husk’s fur stand on end. Made something like tar bubble up in his guts as he seethed at him.

The cat looked down at his feet. A snarl coming onto his face, but it made him  look as if he was being scolded. His posture looked as if he was being petulant and stubborn.

“You… Alastor you…ra… why did you?” Husk tried to make the mess of words tumbling from his mouth intelligible. He gripped at himself a bit tighter as the words became no more than intelligent garbling repeats of what he was trying to say.

“Sorry Husk. What was that?” Alastor tilted his head as he asked. His kitty had never appeared so frazzled before. Though he wasn’t worried about how he was feeling. He looked noticeably tired. 

“You…raped…me.” Husk mumbled, slurring his speech purposely. He couldn’t make himself speak clearly. And it was beginning to anger him. Knowing that he’d have to tell Alastor what he just remembered.

Alastor’s brow arched curiously, seeming to want to know what begot the troubles of his older partner, but did not wish to ask again. Still, seeing Husk like this was disconcerting to say the least. His mood, even his temperament was unusual tonight; even for him. He kept his complaints long, yes but there was also simple, with no underlying innuendo or sugarcoating. He trained his gaze harder on the cat demon, who was looking more ruffled than late. His eyes were kept to the floor, tail batting around behind him in a thudding pattern. He also noticed that the cat’s wings rose a bit over his back, feather tips barely grazing the floor as the shuddered.

Curiosity ebbing, Alastor decided it best to comfort his sweet partner, so he got out of his seat, took a long, slow gait around the table while holding out a simple hand to meet him halfway.

Husk hissed ferociously, his wings banking over his body like a bow, claws coming unsheathed as his slumping, petulant posture transformed into the Hellcat that Alastor remembered too well. “ Stay back! You stay the fuck away from me!”

Alastor’s eyes widened, surprise brimming from them as he watched the cat’s violent display.  He ceased his approach, hand going to his chest in a way to make it look as if he had been wounded by the audacity of his oldest partner and dearest friend drawing his claws at him. The stared long into each other’s eyes; the cat demon’s looking to almost brim with a deep, bloodied scarlet at the center of his pupils. 

The whole scene was a bit of a torrent for the perplexed Radio Demon. He wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea to approach him to swoop him up in his arms while paddling him with soft, warm kisses. Or to take to arms and fight the beguiling, yet dangerous beast.

“You must be ill, my dearest Husk…,” Alastor said, his tone meaning to be used in a way to diffuse the cat’s aggression. Boldly, he took steps toward him, keep his tone the same as he said “Why don’t you come over and sit down? I’m not doin’ anything to hurt ya.”

Husk’s eyes flashed between dilating and constricting, claws not pulling back as he hissed viciously. All of Alastor’s words didn’t matter to Husk. He remembered. He remembered in great detail what the demon in front of him dismissed. The cat held his ground, puffing and spit-hissing at him in warning to keep Alastor at bay.

“Darling, this is nonsensical. What have I done to you to invoke such distress from you?” Alastor was now close enough to brush Husk’s wing but not his face. But he saw well and true the unadulterated rage in his eyes. 

“What have you done?!”, Husk snarled lowly, “You don’t know what you did?! Well I can go back in details about all the horrible, vomit-inducing things you did!!,” He stepped right into Alastor’s face, claws dangling dangerously to the front, “You. Raped. Me. You son of bitch!”

They both were so close that Husk could see how Alastor’s eyes dilated when he spoke. And then constrict. He could feel the heat surfacing from the cat’s skin, could hear the palpable drumming of a long dead heart. The euphoria. The catharsis was too much for Alastor to take. 

His hands dove into the cat’s fur before Husk could react, slamming and pinning him to the side of the bed. Before the roar would come, the much larger, younger deer demon lunged; shoving his tongue down the cat’s throat. He dragged out a ragged moan as his lips conquered the cat’s fully. Soon he had the smaller, older demon bent and pinned painfully to the bed, his claws stuck, frozen in the air, unsure of what was done to deserve this.

Bile rose in his throat as Alastor’s hand sought for Husk. He was going to try and pleasure him again. Wanted to take him by force again.

He put an abrupt stop to that by kicking Alastor, quite fiercely, in his genitals. Then his claws animated as they swiped and slashed his sides and under his neck. Both pains caused Alastor to yell out, shoving himself off the cat’s body now that he had his blood staining his shirt and the thumping pain where he was kicked to deal with. 

He didn’t know which needed the most attention, so he just sunk to the floor, reeling in the pain. He braced his hands on either sides of him, head bowed as he tried to focus on any sensation that wasn’t a stinging pain. The blow to the genitals felt as if he had been gut-punched hard enough to rupture an organ. The addition of the slashed lines in his hips only made the first pain much worse. 

Above him, Husk was staring at him. The fierce glint was there for a fleeting second before it passed. His fur looked less rugged as the adrenaline in his blood began to ebb.

“If you touch me like that again, I’ll rip your fucking head off,” He emphasized his words by kicking Alastor while he was down, “Now lay there and die, you living filth!” His last words were practically barked as he walked off, leaving the most feared demon in Hell on the floor, clenching his sides, head bowed in pain. With traces of what appeared to be slobber coming out of his mouth.

Husk about made it to the door when the air around him chilled, his soft breath began to steam as he gripped the door handle. Before he had the chance to turn it, two things happened: A sound so morbid and powerful filled his ears, then he felt long, spindly branches grab harshly at his sore body. He didn’t have the luxury of time to cry out, but he winces when he feels the branches are clawed fingers--the dragging of them ripping at his back and nape-- the delicate tips sinking into him, revealing new scars atop the older ones.

Husk makes effort to turn, and sees Alastor is still kneeling on the floor, one hand on his crotch and the other trying to congeal the blood underneath his nasty scar. If he wasn’t, then who--

Husk gasped in surprise as his form was suddenly, and none too gently removed from the floor. He went sailing into a nearby wall, his head and back colliding harshly enough to leave an imprint where he hit. Once the fuzz in his vision faded, he came face to face with the Radio Demon’s shadow. He could see the lightest of trickles of his blood staining the supposedly tangible figure. The shadow surrounded him, pushing the older cat closer toward the wall, hindering escape.

“That... wasn’t a nice thing to do...”, The cat’s ears darted in the direction of the half distorted voice. Seeming to be nearly fascinated with his shadow now, Husk’s eyes didn’t leave it as Alastor stumbled to his full height. His head was downcast, checking over his new wounds while he swiped away thick lines of his repugnant smelling oily blood, “I receive you. I pleasure you. I give you every part of me. And this is the gratitude that I am shown?” Alastor lifts his head, his grin-- his grin isn’t there. His permanently fixed grin is not on his face. What is on his face is a frightening snarl, his lips pulled back unnaturally as his teeth extend past his lips. Viscous, black blood comes leaking out of his mouth, in between his teeth and onto the floor. Eyes of the deepest scarlet are constricted so tightly, the pupils do not exist.

The older cat’s eyes dilate deeply, his faint heartbeat now sounding as a drum, pounding so much it physically hurts his chest.

“You... fucking raped me...,” Husk’s tail was swiping at the door behind him, “And then, you... you just kiss me like that never happened. What the hell else was I supposed to do?” 

“You. Are. Wrong,” Alastor starts to move, calculated steps measured. His pace slow as he flashed his teeth, “I already told you that I was not hurting you. That I would never hurt you.” He stopped in front of Husk, the cat demon staring up at him fully as his shadow fizzled away. He emphasized his last word by tilting the older cat’s chin toward him. It was so painful. The cat could feel his neck being pulled up and creaking. 

“You. Belong. To. Me... You knew this the moment you signed yourself to me. I will do what I wish to you. My will is imposed onto you. And if you don’t like what I do to you... well”, he removed his fingers from the cat’s chin in order to wrap his hand around his neck. His digits scraping into the older male’s skin. Husk felt the warning, the condensation in the air turning to ice as the eyes of the Radio demon switched to dials, “then I will rid you of your existence in this Hell. And I will place you into a pit of abyssal torment for the rest of your days. And when you feel your skin and bone pulled from your miserable carcass again and again, and again”, he continued as he gripped the throat tighter, the cat’s eyes widening into bulbs of orange, ears falling flat against his head, even the breath he tried to force out became painful as it became lodged in his chest, “you will then become satisfied. And more grateful to me and the pleasures you will receive. Have I made myself clear?”

Husk was unable to nod, nor was he able to keep but a couple of breaths before he wheezed out a hoarse, agonized and simple, “Yes.”

Alastor released him after that. The cat demon falling gracelessly to the ground, wings splaying out on either side of him as his claws darted to his throat. There wasn’t a trickle of his blood, but his throat and neck felt different. It felt compressed, uncomfortable to touch, he choked and sobbed while slobber collected in his mouth before dribbling in a small puddle to the floor.

“Putrid. Insolent and stupid creature. You’ll keep everything between us. If I even hear you breath and didn’t allow it, I’ll tear apart your wings. One feather at a time.” And then he smiled. No. He grinned incandescently, face now lit with macabre jubilee. 

Husk started to fold in on himself, his wings going across his body in order to shield his body from view of the demon. 

“And please eat. I brought the cakes and sweets for you.” He now spoke pleasantly, the ice in his tone thawing back to normal. Ignoring the congealing blood at his sides, Alastor walked back over to the table to push the confections closer.

A few moments later, Husk stood on his four legs, silently heading over to the tray, eyes wide, body trembling. 

Alastor regained his seat on the loveseat, crossing his legs over each other as Husk reached for one of the soft sugar frosted cookies. He popped it into his mouth without a word, his eyes still turned to the hard floor. He took another frosted cookie and ate it. He liked the taste of them, the colors in his eyes brightening with hidden delight as he sampled the tastes. 

The younger demon handed him his cup of lukewarm tea while he took up his own. They drank of their cups with no words to each other. Husk finished his cup quickly, his claws going to the pot for another cup. Alastor doubts he even tasted the varying flavors while he made another cup.

“It’s meant to be savored, not wolfed Husk.” The deer demon stated a touch vindictively. This wasn’t alcohol, so he didn’t have to drink it down so fast. 

The cat demon only nodded slowly as he put the cup to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it on the tray. As he did so, he watched his paw quiver. It wasn’t much to show that those words did something to him. It didn’t go unnoticed by Alastor. Nothing Husk did would.

Without a word, the young gentleman took the cat’s paw, guided him across the counter and pulled him into his lap. Husk was looking at the wall when he felt Alastor’s lips go to his neck, a featherlike touch, before pulling away. 

“Touch me.” A simple, sultry command that Husk had no choice, or will, but to follow. His paws went to the larger demon’s shoulders as he leant his chest into Alastor’s face. He gasped softly as he heard, and felt, the demon growl deep in him. 

He didn’t want him. Never wanted him. There was never going to be a feeling of love in what this demon wanted. He was just taking. Taking something he wanted from him at the time they first met. And now, he has it. And he will continue to have it. Over and over, and over. 

To Husk, this was a Hell that Pentagram City would never be.