#I will almost certainly do a couple alastor ones too when I can | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

concubuck · 2 years ago

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Baby Panic

((A thread following up from this artwork. Technically happened on Christmas but like don't worry about the continuity too much.

Alastor AKA Buck (hi there) has a little panic-induced breakdown at the thought of being responsible for a baby, and Alastor AKA Cal (@smiledotdeer) comforts him and talks him down.

And then they exchange Christmas gifts.))

Buck

The guests are gone, the living room is stuffed full of gifts for the baby, and Buck's looking them over trying to figure out a better way to relocate them than "teleport them in a heap into the upstairs hallway."

During the hubbub, a few onesies got tossed into the crib for storage, each stacked on top of the other. Ha. It almost looks like a baby. Immediately distracted from his task, Buck finds a pair of socks to serve as hands, adds a hat and a pair of horn caps over the imaginary head… and tucks a doll under the imaginary baby's arm. Funny. If you're not looking right at it, it really does look like a baby. Haha. Ha.

Funny.

That's what it's going to look like, when the baby is outside of Buck and lying in his crib. That's the size he's going to be, the amount of space he'll take up. He'll exist, a real physical object, not just a signal in the back of Buck's head or a ghost on a sonogram screen. He'll exist, small and helpless—and Buck will be responsible for him. He'll be right there, just like that.

Buck's grip tightens on the crib's railing.

Cal

"I'm going to put the monitor in the bedside table drawer for now, just to keep it out of the way until we need it. Or should I leave it on the bedside table so we get accustomed to seeing it and making space for it beforehand? And where did you want the—"

Cal's been babbling away as he brings things in from the baby shower, but he stops when he notices that not only is Buck not answering or even paying attention, but that he seems rather fixated on the crib.

"…Alastor?"

The box of dolls Rosie brought are set down on the bed before he approaches from behind, head tilted in both curiosity and worry. His eyes drift over to the crib, and his ears perk up before he chuckles.

"Ha, look at that! Perfectly baby shaped! It's almost like he's here already, isn't it?"

Buck

He barely registers what Cal says. He doesn't trust himself to speak clearly with a lump of static in his throat, so he just nods silently.

What is he going to do when he is here? When he has to take care of that helpless thing in the crib, or else abandon it? The idea of dedicating his life to it for the next couple of decades, of turning that much attention to the needs and problems of some child—he doesn't even really like children that much, he certainly didn't ask for one—how is he going to stand it that long? How is he going to ensure the child doesn't feel neglected or unwanted? He's terrified the child will ruin his life. How will he ever avoid ruining the child's?

But he says nothing—only a static hitch of his breath betrays his thoughts.

Cal

Slowly, Cal's beaming smile falters, falling just short of flattening out completely as the concern returns in full force. "…Alastor? Are you alright?"

Buck

"I can't do this." His voice is a distorted whisper. "How am I going to—? I don't know how to be a parent, I'd never wanted to be one, God knows I never prepared—I don't want to ruin some child's life, I can't handle this—"

His voice grows louder and faster and shakier the longer he talks, until he claps a hand over his mouth, but even that can't stop him from talking: "I can't do this. I can't do this. I'm not ready, I'll just ruin him—"

Cal

I can't do this.

Cal's heart seizes while his ears straighten and bristle. They'd come so far, and now he's saying he can't do it? What did that mean? Would he actually leave them after their son was born? Would Cal never see him again?

Stop. Breathe. That isn't what Buck wants to do. He's just scared. Like you.

"Hey now," he coos out, lifting his arm to wrap it around Buck's back and gently grip his shoulder. "You can do this. You're one of the strongest people I know. If anyone can do this, it's you."

Buck

He laughs, a hysterical tittering sound, and leans into Cal's touch but shakes his head at his words. "Strong magically, sure. I can kill anyone that threatens him. I can summon up servants for him. I can reshape reality for him—but can I get him to adulthood without traumatizing him? Without exposing him to something he shouldn't see, or abandoning him to go to a hookup, or just—getting frustrated and lashing out at him? I'm not strong the way a child needs."

Cal

"Darling," Cal starts, turning to face Buck while moving to hold his face in both hands, "you speak about this as though you're doing it all by yourself!" There's that bright smile again as he tries to reassure him. "I'll be right here with you the entire way!"

Buck

He finally drags his gaze away from the pseudo-baby to meet Cal's gaze.

That's right. Cal will be there. Buck's not doing all of this alone. And Cal wants a baby—has wanted one for years. He can compensate for Buck's incompetence. The kid will have at least one decent parent.

He wraps his arms around Cal, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm still so afraid. I can't remember the last time anything terrified me this much."

Cal

"I know. I know you're afraid. And it's okay to be afraid. Neither of us have done this before, and we didn't expect to do it." He closes his eyes and nuzzles their noses together, his left arm holding Buck close while the right keeps its hand on his cheek. "But we will do it. Together."

Buck

It's okay to be afraid is what breaks him—as if he's finally got permission to be afraid. His face crumples, and he presses his face to Cal's shoulder.

One of the first conversations Buck ever had with Cal was about how Buck thought it was fine to take off one's emotional armor from time to time, with people one could trust. With an alternate. At the time, he's been talking about Cal. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd been excluding himself—Cal could be vulnerable, and Buck could be there to support him, the strong one, the protector, his alternate's guardian. He hadn't imagined himself as the vulnerable one. He hates the feeling, hates feeling ripped open and exposed and raw.

But if anyone's going to see him like this, he's glad it's Cal.

He digs his fingers into the back of Cal's shirt and clings to him as hard as possible, as his shoulders shake with a sobs.

Cal

"Oh honey…here—"

Cal's moving them over to the edge of his bed so he can sit them both down and pull Buck against himself fully, both arms hugging onto him and rubbing at his back.

"I know," he repeats, nuzzling his cheek into Buck's forehead. "It's okay. Let it out."

Buck

He lets Cal move him, and then clings even tighter to him, pulling Cal against his side to get around his belly. He cries months of frustration and fear and panic into Cal's shoulder, his sobs coming out as hiccuping distorted crackles.

"I m-miss my ma." His voice is so distorted it doesn't even sound human. "I wish I still had one. I wish—sh-she could be here—for the birth." He hadn't even known he wanted that until he said it—but the longing hits him all at once like a hammer to his chest. He cries so hard he wouldn't be able to sit upright without Cal's support.

Cal

That line hits him harder than he expects it to. He hadn't even thought of his own mother much throughout this entire process. And knowing that Buck has lost his has him feeling sympathetic.

"I wish she could be here too."

Cal hugs him tighter and pets his hair with the right hand, his lips pressed to Buck's forehead as he murmurs and kisses against it.

"I wish both of our mothers could be."

Buck

So does he. He nods very slightly. God, how he wishes they could both have their families here—their original ones, without having to construct a new one piecemeal across the universes.

When the lump in his throat clears enough for him to speak again, he says, "We can—write yours."

Cal

He huffs a bit and shakes his head. "I don't think I could pull it off after the stunt from last year. Unless I got help, I suppose."

Buck

"I'll see what I can do." He'd managed to get a letter up to Heaven once, after all. His voice is husky from crying, but having something else to think about is helping him calm down. "If you don't think she'd be horrified by a demon grandson."

Cal

"Trust me, sweetheart: she'd be thrilled. She'll want to stick her nose all in this baby's business as much as she possibly can once she finds out about him. And Jo? Eternally six and finding out she's an aunt? Hah. That'd be one hell of a conversation!"

Buck

"Ha. Sounds like I'll have to find a regular courier."

How old had he been when he became an uncle? (He doesn't remember.) Would his mother have been thrilled to become a grandmother, to a demon or otherwise? Wondering makes another lump form in his throat; he swallows hard to get it down. He's better now. No tears this time. He got the panic out. "I'll make sure they hear."

Cal

Cal kisses his forehead for good measure before hugging him against his side. "If you can, I promise they'll love to know."

He stays silent for a few seconds, simply sitting still aside from nuzzling and hugging onto Buck from the side, before he turns his head to look at him proper. "We can do this. Together. I promise."

Buck

Together. His limp smile gains a little more strength. "Right. We'll make it through together." (But what if extermination—? He pushes that thought aside. They've already prepared as much as they can. All he can do now is wait.) "… I love you."

Cal

"I love you too." He cards a hand through Buck's hair and leans in to press a kiss against his lips. "More than I can ever put into proper words."

Something occurs to him after he spends a few more seconds hugging onto Buck. Something that makes him perk and sit back up. "I can still try, though, yes? I think it's time I gave you your Christmas present."

Buck

His thoughts wrench away from the idea of getting more than Cal's lips on his mouth as he's reminded of the existence of Christmas. "Oh? Oh! Yes, I need to give you yours too." As much as Buck wants to steer away from celebrating Christmas, he'd just feel guilty if he didn't get Cal something. (Plus he likes giving Cal things.)

Cal

"Let me give you yours first. I want to cheer you up more."

Cal smiles, ruffles at Buck's hair, and then gets up to wander over to his dresser and pull out a gift, wrapped in black paper and tied in a red bow. Whatever it is, it's soft and malleable as he hands it over to his alternate.

Inside is a throw blanket, decorated with starry skies and flowers, along with two skeletons holding hands. Both skeletons have antlers that look like both of their own, and at the bottom is stitched, "Alastor and Alastor".

Odd. One of the skeletons should definitely have wing and tail bones…but instead, aside from the antler shapes, they both look the same.

{Attachments} https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1058369129326858250/1058659576855146536/NonZodiacSkel_06_sq_590x.webp

Buck

Clothing? He unwraps it—a blanket—and stretches it out to see. Them. Connected in death, skin stripped off so they look the same. Even the wings are gone. Buck's eyes shine bright. He wonders if the skeletons are meant to represent their human corpses—no, they have antlers—so Cal just left the other details out. To make them look the same.

"Thank you." He throws Cal a wide, grateful smile. "You sneaky fox, all this time you've been making baby clothes and I never caught you working on this! I'll have to find a place of honor to hang it up." He wondered where it could possibly be safe in his apartment. Maybe he could hang it on a wall and then hang a plastic shower curtain in front of it to protect it.

Cal

"I worked on it during my visits to the park! It was the only way I could think to keep it a perfect secret." He winks, his grin beaming at Buck once again. He seems to really like the gift, and he's glad for it.

Then, as he's looking at the blanket, his eyes widen in realization. "Oh no! I forgot your wings and tail!"

Buck

"Well, I'll be! It worked!"

Buck huffs. "Good! I prefer to forget them myself!" He gently elbows Cal. "Here I thought you did it on purpose, to make us look the same."

Cal

"You—well! I suppose I don't need to fix it then."

Cal leans into the elbow and squeezes his hand. "I'm glad you like it so much!"

Buck

He squeezes back. "I do. Thank you."

Then his ears perk up. "Oh! And I should give you your gift. Gifts, I oughta say." He folds up his blanket to set aside.

Cal

"Gifts? What happened to being a Scrooge?" He's being playful about it, made clear by his grin and how he bumps shoulders with Buck. "I'm excited, though!"

Buck

"Scrooge is just stingy. I'm making a political statement. But let's leave politics out of the bedroom!" He pulls a ring box out of his pockets, gives Cal a crooked grin and a wink—relax, it's not what it looks like—and offers it over. "Here!"

Inside is a tiny chessboard on a ring, with the board hinged to open up and reveal the chess pieces. "I saw you'd been admiring one of these and tracked it down."

Cal

The box has Cal raising a brow out of instinct, but then he shakes his head and chuckles before accepting and opening it up. A soft gasp escapes him when he sees what's inside, and he immediately pulls it out to slip it on and look at all the tiny pieces inside. "Oh it's even lovelier in person! Thank you!"

Buck

He beams wider at Cal's happiness. "Now, I'm not much of a chess player, personally; but for you, I'd be happy to pull out a pair of tweezers."

Cal

"Ha! I'll definitely keep that in mind!" For now, though, he slips the ring back off and carefully puts it in its box before pulling Buck into an embrace.

Buck

Buck hugs Cal back, kissing his cheek as he does; and then, after a moment, says, "And for my next trick…" Like a magician pulling a coin from behind a child's ear, Buck pulls a gift-wrapped box from behind Cal's ear. (Unlike a magician with a coin, Buck probably used real magic to pull out that box.) "Gift number two!"

When unwrapped, it's a cigar box with high-quality cigars—or as high-quality as you can get with novelty blue "It's a boy!" wrappers around each cigar. "Something for you to hand out at the hospital in a few weeks." Buck actually doesn't know if hospitals nowadays still let new fathers hand out cigars—but if not, hey, more for Cal.

Cal

Those ears perk up before he lets out a giddy childish giggle and accepts the box. Seeing its contents only makes him laugh more. "I almost don't want to share these! But I will, of course, should anyone want one!"

Buck

Oh, that giggle melts his rotten heart. "Well, if you want you can keep 'em yourself! They're for you. But I thought you'd like the option."

Cal

"You're right, I do! If no one wants them then it simply means I get more!"

He sets the box next to him on the bed, pulls Buck back in for another embrace, and promptly flops down onto his side with soulmate in tow so he can snuggle up to him with a content hum.

Buck

He lets out a startled burst of static as he's dragged onto the bed, then laughs. He slides his arms around Cal and nuzzles his face.

"Hey," he says, voice soft. "You're gonna be a terrific father, you know that?" He's still not sure of himself—but he has no doubts about Cal.

Cal

Does he know that? Who knows. Not him.

Still, those words have Cal's expression softening before he hugs onto Buck just a little bit tighter. "I know I'm going to do my best!"

Buck

"Well, your best is going to be fantastic. Have you heard the ladies at the birthing class? You're already blowing the competition out of the water." He cups Cal's cheek in his hand. "The kid's not even born yet and you already love him with your whole heart and soul."

Cal

His ears fold back as he nuzzles into Buck's hand, and his tail can be heard thumping against the bed as it wags. "I do. I love him with everything I have."

He tilts his head forward to touch their foreheads together. "The same way I love you."

Buck

"You!" Buck laughs, and moves his hand from Cal's cheek to scritch at his flopped-down ears. "Listen to you! As smooth as silk!"

He lets his eyes slide shut. "And I love you like I love myself." Which is the highest honor he can offer.

Cal

The praise. The ear scratching. The return of affection. It's enough to make Cal close his own eyes and start doing something he's never done around Buck before.

He purrs.

Buck

The hell is that! Is that a sound effect? Did Cal's cat get in? Is that him?

He only stops scratching for half a second, then resumes it with gusto, grinning stupidly at this revelation—and he presses his body more firmly against Cal's so he can feel whether the purring vibrates his bones the way it does a cat.

Cal

No, that's definitely him. Church is nowhere in sight, and he is most definitely vibrating once Buck gets close enough to feel it. The harder he scratches, the louder it gets.

Buck

Then Buck continues scratching, still with a goofy grin. And, after a moment, he answers with his own "purr": white noise, the static between two radio stations, rising and falling with his breath like the sound of waves washing in and out on the beach. It's a soft, unobtrusive sound—especially compared to his usual sound effects—but it's the sound of him completely at peace.

Cal

Between the scratching and the white noise, Cal is able to fully relax and, soon after, fall asleep, still purring and occasionally offering a small affectionate nuzzle.

Buck

Nap time?

Yeah. It's been a long day, and Buck is tired (as per usual). Nap time.

Several large dark tentacles slither out of a void to help gently scoot them both to the center of the bed and wrap them in a blanket without waking Cal. Buck's white noise breaths slow down as he, too, falls asleep.

#smiledotdeer #radio baby #chat log #live and in person (face to face)

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dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd · 8 months ago

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(previous anon - hi!) aaand you certainly never disappoint (not that you legit could've, but). yep, that's the exact ship i had in mind😈. for someone who's normally so touch-averse, he himself is certainly very touchy with Charlie, isn't he👀 (yeah yeah control, but there's a bit more to it than that).

i think the main appeal of this ship is its complexity and almost unlimited potential? they're extremely powerful, charming characters with similar interests (dancing, singing, dumb, dorky puns) who act as foils but who also genuinely enjoy each other's company and have fun together -hidden agendas aside. you want some power couple goodness? done! cutesy, wholesome, endearing fluff? ta-da! dark, angsty, sexy mind games? comin right up! on that note - the fandom (esp on twitter) is so crazy talented and productive -despite the gross hate it gets- that you have so many different options when it comes to Alastor's sexuality and the type of space it would hold if he were romantically involved with Charlie. i'm on that same spectrum too, and knowing (from my experience, combined with what i've read from other ace ppl) that those who are asexual/aro can also experience sexual and romantic attraction (just way less often), made it ok for me. i can only speak for myself, ofc, but yeah. and so there are so many fics etc that respectfully explore what effect those new sorts of feelings and intimacy would have on Alastor's self-image and dynamic with Charlie. You can find super well written interpretations of him as either sex-repulsed or sex-positive (there's a reason 'Deer Virgin' and 'Charliesexual' are some of the most popular tags around here, lol) all that to say if you do ever find yourself curious or peckish, i gotchu! couldn't recommend 'penance' by kinkydents enough (something tells me it'd definitely be your speed👌). on the lighter end of the spectrum, 'under my skin' by whamgram is also exceptionally good food (and so funny!). then there's 'the riddle of magic' by rubyfoxfire - an epic in itself, and one that generally sticks to the 'romantic friendship' sort of angle. just a few options on your table😻. thank you for indulging me with this ask and take care!✌️

Oh nonny you make me wanna dive into some fics and rewatch the show for the third time!

Thank you for sharing your perspective on Alastor as an ace spectrum person, that’s really interesting to know. I will for sure check out these fics. Penance sounds great!

You take care too, and feel free to come off anon and DM me because I’m alway happy to talk about our red flag radio darling ❤️

#ask and answer

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a-hazbin-spider · 2 years ago

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It wasn’t likely expected to work so well, but the noise is something that ultimately distracts, or at least has Angel with his focus on something else. He could swear the whirring, that it’d gotten louder, and he was rather certain it wasn’t just the noise of any light, or his brainfog letting up. No, he can actually feel his ears shift to listen. Pairs well with his chest rising and falling while trying to avoid any hitching. He could listen, though, instead of being blindly listening for danger, he was able to just take in that he really was somewhere else. Take in each roll and hum of the static.

Better. Not perfect, but better. He certainly at least was less shaky than before, his own trembling was like a buzz, was able to be at the very least back down to unpleasant bodily sensations rather than his mind piling much else on top of him. It’d for sure be preferable for hands that wish to fix this. Though Angel wasn’t sure what Alastor could do about the bleeding and bruising below the belt- he was somewhat intrigued to know Alastor was at all gifted with the ability to patch someone up. Made for an interesting find. And a comforting one at that, seeing he had his own supplies and everything. The mix of torturous touches and wounds would do well to be… washed away.

What was perhaps more interesting was just how soft Alastor had been with him. It wasn’t bad, in fact, it was just about the sort of thing that made him feel like he really was safe. Those kinds of moments he might have with his brother when he was barely able to remember a thing. Sparked warmth in his chest, despite the rooted chill that seated itself in his core and branched out.

The uncovered eye holds a little bit of a stare on the stag, maybe it was just the tell that upon pulling away he’d stop, he just seems… relieved in a sense. And that relief coupled up with just how fresh the night was, and how struggling did nothing helpful. Only gave added amusement and annoyance to those two. Alastor wasn’t going to make him struggle for words or anything. Just allowed him to well, break. And that was more comforting than it had any business being. “I-..! Thanks. I’ll still try t’make y’job… uh. Easier.”

This didn’t feel right. Any of it. He could barely recognize his own wilting voice. Alastor’s demeanor was so soft with him too- and while it was still odd, he can’t say he hated it. Dare he say, it was comforting. He’d even been allowed something to hold onto. Which was to say, it was nothing like being alive, and even less like down here. With a less than subtle sniffle his primary arms take the pillow in those claws.

Might be a bit obvious how he squeezes that thing, and buries his face just how much he’d been in need of that kindness Alastor’d been giving him. Shows well when his body is uncovered, too. The wrapping was unfortunately sticking and well, the wounds and bruises were just inconvenient for Angel to begin with. Still, he managed not to stir while he was uncovered, aside from tensing.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t too thorough.” A confession comes from the pillow. Almost sounded apologetic. “I jus’ wanted t’leave.”

While he let his head sort of continue to lean into the touch of that cold cloth, he made the attempt to steady himself, make his body still and loosen up somewhat. He knows first hand that using shaky hands was shitty with trying to patch something up. Even worse when the subject shakes and quivers, when the subject tenses and twitches. So Angel had attempted to calm himself, just sucking in deep breaths and hoping he could get through this without having too many events play back.

Without the hours without sight playing back, where he could feel the rough restraints, feel the pounding of in his head, the dull throb of aches from head to toe, followed by a scuffle of bright lights, sharp pains, his third set of arms and a few other bones getting cracked into- and those claws, and that stupid trouble, his stupid boss. His head shakes a few times, enough to get him out of the events, to stop a miserable and somewhat angry look from progressing.

Luckily his violent shaking had been turned down a notch too. But it couldn’t be stopped entirely unfortunately. Angel already had been feeling his stature was quite the mess.

At the very least, those replays stopped in time to have an unswollen eye catch a glimpse of a medical kit. Odd, he didn’t think he’d seen one like that around here. Certainly didn’t match the one he kept in a makeup bag. But it made sense, that Alastor here would likely have his own possessions to pluck from too. And maybe he might’ve stared at that longer- distract himself if Alastor hadn’t managed to surprise him a little. Makes an oddly stunned look take over, and a few seconds hang in the air while he finds his voice. Though it sounded a bit too choked for his liking, much like he felt his cheeks felt much too damp.

“Yessir- ye- yeah. Might be a lil… ha-hard t’do without ya touchin’ me.” Those red eyes taking a look over him are met with his own, the expression softened up, glinting with his gratitude. “Thanks. M’ready. Uh- I’ll try not t-t’totally freak out or be all… wimpy. I’m-I’ll b’have, promise.”

#hhhh absolutely tumblr just said ‘oh yeah you don’t like that?? watch this’#and then it killed all the notifications hhsg here’s hopin it’ll stay up and running!#tw: torture #hazbin rp #hazbin hotel rp #the ball rolled back!: reply #angel dust; y’know from tv?#alastor: my dear deer friend #radi0activesmile

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

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Post-Hogwarts Enemies to Lovers with Sirius • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Warnings: firewhiskey mention, weed mention?, Death Eaters, curses (both language and magic), near death experiences, blood and injury mentions

Request: Hello! Can I have a Sirius headcanon please, one where it’s post Hogwarts in the time of the first wizarding war, and reader was a quiet, loner ravenclaw when she was in Hogwarts whereas Sirius was obviously very popular and loud, and they didn’t like eachother back then but now they’re in the order and dating and it’s just enemies to lovers angst to fluff 🥺 — @mabelle-cherie

A.N: Headcanons are weird because I have no idea if this is long or short. Anyway. I might’ve strayed a little away from the request? But it’s essentially the same. I think I like this one, actually...Love you all ❤️

Sirius Black was the most obnoxious entity you’ve ever encountered

James Potter was obviously a close second

Remus Lupin was tolerable, but only when his nose was stuffed in a book and when he was alone

Peter Pettigrew? He was more scared of you than you were of him. Completely harmless

They would strut around the castle, smug looks glued on their faces, like they owned the place

And you know what?

They practically did

Ever since they pulled their first prank, they’ve had the entire school wrapped around their fingers

Classmates idolized them

Teachers struggled to hide fond smiles

You despised it

You were here to sit, learn enough to get a good job, and keep your head down

The so called “Marauders” obviously had their own plans

The second Sirius witnessed you scoff and roll your eyes at another one of their stupid disruptive pranks, you were on his radar

The first time Sirius ever directly spoke to you, you were in the farthest corner of the library buried underneath a mountain of books trying to finish your three essays

You didn’t even notice him until—

“(Y/Ln), right?”

You were too busy writing about the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 to even entertain the idea of giving him a proper response

So in your haze, you just gave him your default response

“Piss off, Black.”

If you said that to any other person, it would’ve worked

But Sirius Black is not any other person, unfortunately

“Well that’s not very nice, love, now is it?”

And thus, your enemyship begins

That was in your fifth year, meaning you had about two and a half more years dealing with him and his merry band of pricks

By the next day, you were ready to toss yourself out of the Astronomy Tower

He now spots you in every room you’re in together, which is a huge inconvenience, considering you would rather be left alone and unbothered

But he prances towards you, shit eating grin plastered on his face, ringed fingers raking through his hair

He’s a pest

“Leave me alone, Black.”

“Aw c’mon, (Y/Ln), I’m just saving you from being lonely.”

“I’m not lonely.”

“Well you don’t talk to anyone. That’s lonely.”

“I talk to people, Black. I just don’t talk to you.”

You try to leave with the last laugh

You really do

“Pretty sure you’re talkin’ to me right now, love.”

His stupid infuriating smirk makes you wanna hex him into oblivion

Instead, you walk away fuming

And that’s how the rest of your time at Hogwarts goes

Sirius Black bothers the shit outta you

You tell him to go fuck himself

He doesn’t

Wash, rinse, repeat

There are a few times your patience wears so thin that you throw a couple hexes his way

You’ve reversed his knees, made his head grow four sizes too big (to finally contain that ego of his, you told him), made his toenails grow straight through his shoes, and even managed to shave off some of his precious hair

And yet he still came back

Every single time

Sirius would just brush it off and laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world

At that point, what do you do?

You try to ignore him the best you can

There are times you find him alone, drunk on top of the astronomy tower

Or high behind greenhouse number two

You like him better this way

He seems more real

Not because he’s under the influence

But because he’s not giving you a cocky smirk or a wink and laughing at every little move you make

You almost tolerate him

But then the next morning he’s back to calling you love and shouting at you at the top of his lungs across the Great Hall

And you’re back to hating him again

You’re counting down the days to graduation

And when it finally comes you bid him a firm farewell

Sirius finishes off with a “More like see ya later, (Y/Ln), love”

But you don’t care because the next day you have your bags packed to study in Bulgaria

But with one foot out the door you get an urgent letter

Something called the Order of the Phoenix

And and after carefully scanning through the contents of the letter

You unpack

And go meet up with your old Headmaster

Headquarters is a dilapidated shack on the outside

Chipped paint, broken shutters, water damage, the works

But the inside is elegant

Long purple rugs running throughout the house covering dark wood flooring, glass vases, magical artifacts strewn on top of dark counter tops

Sirius Black sitting, cigarette in one hand, twirling his wand in the other—

Sirius Black?

You almost march straight out the door

But you’ve already been spotted by Dumbledore and Alastor Moody, so you can’t exactly back out now

“Long time, no see, love, eh?”

The smirk, the attitude, the wink

It’s all there

Thankfully, he’s sitting in the middle of his friend group, so when you take a seat at the table, there’s about four people between the two of you

You smile at Alice and Frank, who you only know because they helped you with potions assignments a few years prior

You notice a glimmering ring on her finger

Everyone turns deathly serious when Dumbledore and Moody start explaining the situation with Voldemort and his Death Eaters

And how the Ministry of Magic is practically incompetent, though you knew that already

Even Sirius knew when to keep his mouth shut

He sat there, smoking, taking harsh sips of firewhiskey

Yes,

You noticed

You noticed how his fists would clench in anger

And how he silently swore

When James would put a hand of his shoulder to calm him down

And when Remus would start edging away his tumbler

He would twist the rings of his fingers

And smoke through an entire pack of cigs during the meeting

You’re not going to Bulgaria anymore, you’ve decided

Everyone got assigned stations they would patrol

Just your luck

You got Diagon Alley

With Sirius Black

You want to slam your head on the table

“Did you really bribe Dumbledore and Moody to put us together, Black?”

“It won’t be so bad, (Y/Ln), promise.”

“You’re a prat.”

“Well now that’s just rude.”

So everyday, you and Sirius donned dark cloaks that covered your faces and ambled through Diagon Alley, keeping an eye and an ear out for anything out of place

You would stop into shops, pretend to browse through items, keeping an eye on people

Sirius would convince you to get ice cream or stop in the Leaky Cauldron

You hate to admit it

But these little breaks the two of you took together were...

Nice?

The two of you would just be sat in the farthest corner of the tavern

Cigarette smoke swirling around

Eyes watching through the haze

There’s small talk between the two of you, but mostly silence

“The Potters died a month ago.”

He tells you out of the blue, eyes still trained on the other customers

You might not know Sirius Black well, but everyone knows how he ran away from his abusive home to James Potter in sixth year

“I’m so sorry, what was it, if it’s ok to ask.”

“Dragon pox.” He takes a second to exhale completely. “They were old, they knew it was coming. Just doesn’t feel right.”

So that’s how your partnership works

Sirius would be utterly insufferable during meetings and other get togethers

Silent during patrol

At least one of you would spill some secret or heartbreaking thought while on break

And then it would be back to silent concentration

Maybe you didn’t hate him anymore

But you certainly didn’t like him

About six months into your recruitment into the Order, you get a tip off about a huge Death Eater raid in a nearby Muggle village

Moody leads the rest of the Order to the village, and sure enough, there’s a crowd of Death Eaters dressed in black cloaks and silver masks already starting to make their way down the hill and into the main square

Spells are shot at an alarming rate

You’re forced to run, dodge, hide

You have have to not only fight a whole group of people happy to use Dark magic, but you have to continuously check on the numerous Muggle families asleep in their homes

It’s tiring

There’s bruises and cuts all over you

Lily had to save your arse a few times

You shoved James out of the way from the Cruciatus curse, getting hit with it instead

You were staggering, barely taking in enough air, but still you fired off spell after spell

You lean heavily against a wall, the bricks digging into your skin

The world around you spins and turns blurry

You fight to hang on, but your body is in so much pain it wants to shut down

You get cornered by a tall man in a dark cloak and a skeletal mask

“Well, well, how unfortunate.”

Your ears are ringing but you can hear him loud and clear

A gloved hand slips into his cloak and produces a silver dagger, shining in the pale moonlight

“Maybe I’ll gut you the Muggle way.”

He chuckles darkly, and you shudder in fright

The tip of the blade just touches your abdomen, the cool point sending goosebumps up your skin

You try to muster all the strength you have left in you, but it’s not enough to break free and fight back

You get ready to accept your fate

“Get off of her, you bastard!”

A figure bodyslams the Death Eater away from you

And the two of them roll around on the street, the silver of the blade flashing between the two forms

You have no idea who’s winning

You do hear a guttural cry coming from Sirius, but when you look back down, the Death Eater is apprehended and there’s a fresh and bloody cut across Sirius’ collarbone

Somehow, anger surges up in you

“You could’ve died, Sirius! You shouldn’t have been so stupid and reckless!”

You shout, pushing yourself off the wall and limping towards him

One of the Prewett twins comes to take the Death Eater away

Sirius scoffs

“Since when did you care about me?”

“You’re my partner, Sirius! Of course I care about you!”

At this point, the two of you are face to face, close enough to smell stale cigarettes and cinnamon on his breath. Copper mingles with the scent

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Sirius, (Y/n).”

He points out softly

You two are so close, eyes gazing into eyes

No, you don’t kiss

You got hit by the torture curse like fifteen minutes ago and then almost got impaled

You faint directly into his arms

How romantic

You wake up on the black velvet couch in headquarters

However, when you turn your head to the side, eyes open, you notice the head of a shaggy black dog resting near your face

Their ears are back, sad and glistening eyes staring at you, nose wet and cold.

The dog perks up when he spots that you’re awake

You hear their tail thunk against the base of the couch

You move your hand to scratch behind those soft ears

The dog whines and sighs in happiness

And then suddenly the dog in gone

And Sirius Black is kneeling at your side instead

“Always knew you were a dog.” You mumble out

“I saved you, and you call me a dog? How kind.” Sirius smiles, relieved

You soften. “Thank you, Sirius. Thought I was a goner.”

He brings a hand up to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone gently “Just glad you’re safe and awake.”

You lean into his warm touch

“Can I kiss you, (Y/n)?” He asks softly, stormy eyes flicking between your eyes and your lips

You notice that he calls you by your first name

“You save me once and now you think you can kiss me, Black?”

You raise an eyebrow, but you aren’t serious.

His face falls and he opens his mouth the apologize, the thumb in your cheek stuttering

“Oh, alright, Sirius...I don’t mind.”

His face lifts back up at your smile

And he kisses you lightly on the lips

“Been waiting to do that for years.” He tells you when you finally separate for air

“Don’t be a prat, Sirius.”

And you know what?

You never hated Sirius Black

You especially didn’t hate Sirius Black now, that’s for sure

You would even say that you love him

Even when he is a prick

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @fific7 @quindolyn @msmb

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black headcanon #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst

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radi0activesmile · 2 years ago

Text

angel-dust-addict:

“Somethin’ like that,” Angel muttered. Alastor wasn’t wrong about the pain tolerance. Angel could handle quite a bit. He had dealt with worse. The main issue this time around had been the impact of his shoulder against the wall. More than once. The second one had nearly sent him rolling down a flight of stairs and he was fairly certain he had hit harder that time. Thinking about it, that probably hadn’t helped with the injuries from the mirror. He was in no hurry to return to the studio, he could say that for certain.

There was one wound that was significantly deeper than the rest and seemed to be the source of most of the blood. While the rest were plentiful, they were mostly superficial. There were one or two that were deep enough to be cause for concern, but the biggest probably was the one that was as much a puncture wound as a laceration. That and the fact that moving his shoulder sent pain lancing down his arm.

As he studied the cuts, now that he could see them better without the sweater in the way, he just looked tired. Resigned and tired on a level nothing would fix. His expression said this was not the first time he had done this. Of course, he had already admitted as much to Alastor. So it wasn’t fear or shock or horror or even really pain that was painted clearly on his face. It was an expression that said he had done this too many times before and knew this wouldn’t be the last time.

“If ya can help me figuah out somethin’ ta deal wit’ dis arm, I can pro'lly handle tha rest,” Angel told the deer. That was likely untrue. The deepest of the wounds was still bleeding and the amount of blood that was stuck in his fur and staining his clothes said as much. He was already dizzy. The best he could really hope to do would be stitch the deepest cuts before he blacked out. It hadn’t really occurred to him in his current state that there might still be shards of glass in the cuts.

He closed his primary eyes as the world started to spin again. Sounding a little tense, he told Alastor, “I gotta handle it quick, though. I’d really ratha’ not still be bleedin’ everywhere when I pass out.”

That admission all on its own was telling of the state Angel was in. He was actually admitting that he might be so completely defenseless. It might also be read as a sign that he wasn’t as afraid of Alastor as most. He was wary, certainly, but he wasn’t afraid Alastor was going to kill and eat him. No, his fear of the man was much more on the level of his distrust of those with power. He tended to very such men with a wary eye. He was expensive and he knew it, at least if it was Val arranging things, and he had found that those who could afford to keep him for more than a couple of hours tended to be the worst of the lot. But there again, Alastor was, by his own admission, entirely disinterested in such things. That set Angel a bit more at ease. And the agreement between Alastor and Charlie gave him a great deal of security he would not otherwise have with the man. In the end, though, he had learned to sleep with one eye open, so to speak, and it was hard to break out of that mindset. Especially when it was still serving its purpose of keeping him safe.

Something like that. Alastor’s ears tick ever-so-slightly back. There’s more to this story, he’s well aware, and he’s almost certain that Angel himself knows that Alastor is aware. Such an extreme injury to his arm couldn’t possibly have come from fumbling into a mirror, or... even being thrown into a mirror. No, he highly doubts this was one incident, but rather... perhaps some form of torture?

The Radio Demon finds himself torn between wanting to ask in order to know exactly what he’s dealing with, and knowing full well that asking Angel to relive what was just done to him would be wickedly cruel. For now, these wounds painted across Angel’s side paint a decently vivid picture on their own: There’s several of them, a few cuts that will heal just fine if kept clean, two that would likely need stitches in order to close, and... this one. This has to be the one Angel spoke of, the glass he ripped out of his side by himself. Alastor’s eyes glow much brighter now, casting vibrantly red spotlights onto the wounds, as if that will help him determine if there’s something still lodged inside the stab wound.

A few seconds pass before the deer glances from the wound to the spider’s expression. Immediately, his smile is pulled tight. He knows that look far too well... he was raised by a pair of eyes that looked as desolate and hopeless as Angel’s do right now. The look of someone so used to being beaten and broken that they no longer question why, they no longer bother to cry out in pain or remorse. There is no point. This has been done to them time and time again, and it will be done to them again and again.

He can feel his shadows swirling around just underneath the floor, eagerly awaiting instructions. Surely, when Alastor is this angry, there will be carnage! Bloodshed! Destruction! Wrath!

Yet... they are given no instruction. Alastor gives no commands. He merely shakes his head when Angel suggests tending to his arm first. “I believe our first priority needs to be getting this bleeding to stop.” He makes certain his tone is gentle. This is not a matter of wanting to be in control nor do it his own way, though, he can hardly fault Angel if that’s how his fellow sinner sees it. His arm, while most certainly in a great deal of pain, likely won’t worsen if left unattended for a few more minutes. This wound in his side; however... Alastor presses the collection of gauze against it. He knows no amount of steady pressure will stop the bleeding, he merely intends to slow it until given permission to stitch it closed-- or remove the embedded shards of broken glass from inside, and then stitch him back together. “Are you certain you removed all the glass?”

The shadow startled Angel a little, but its resemblance to Alastor made it clear what it was. Freaky-ass magic mumbo jumbo, clearly, but it wasn't dangerous. To him. He had no doubt it could be dangerous.

"Yeah, about dat," Angel began awkwardly when Alastor assured him they were nearly there. "I, uh, look, ya know what I do. And some'a that ends up comin' home wit' me. So just ignore any'a that. It'll be betta' fa' both our sanity."

There was no squealing nor clatter of tiny hooves, which meant Charlie probably still had Fat Nuggets. That was good. As much as Angel wanted to just curl up, cuddle the little pig, and go to sleep, there was a great deal of unpleasantness to deal with before he could consider doing that. Not all of which he was guaranteed to be conscious for. That unnerved him, but he really had no choice in the matter at this point. His head was spinning and he wasn't actually supporting most of his own weight anymore.

As they crossed the threshold, he took stock of the room as best he could. There weren't too many things sitting out, but there were a few. If he'd had the blood to spare, he might have blushed in embarrassment, but he didn't. That was most of the current problems.

"Bathroom's pro'lly tha best fa' this. 'S brighta' an' easia' ta clean up tha blood," he suggested tiredly. He was starting to be glad he had taken Alastor's offer of help.

#angeldustaddict #torture mention cw #blood cw #injuries cw #abuse cw

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

Teenage behaviour

For @sweeethinny ‘s amazing prompt: ‘Instead of Harry seeing Molly's boggart, he sees Lily's, and faces him and his father dead on the floor, while his mother panics’.

Thanks again for this prompt! I always love to explore Lily and Harry’s relationship!

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

______________________________

Harry's smile doesn't reach his eyes.

Lily has been stealing glances in his direction all night, ever since she got home from her shift, and even though he is talking and eating and acting normal, she can see there is something restrained about him.

She looks around, trying to understand what is dampening his mood - not that it would need much lately, but still, he should be more thrilled about returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, especially considering their fear that he would be expelled. Everything seems normal, though. The kitchen is full of people talking and drinking, enjoying that last-minute party, and everyone's mood seems better than usual. She sees Ron listing the qualities of his new broom to Tonks, while Hermione is talking with Remus about her project of rights for house-elves. Both Ron and Hermione are still beaming because of today’s news.

She raises her eyes to the banner Molly hanged over the dinner table. That brings a warm smile to her lips; Molly had sounded more cheerful than Lily had seen her all summer when she had told proudly of Ron being made a prefect.

Then her eyes fall on Harry again. He is looking wistfully at the banner, with just a hint of guilt shining in his eyes.

Understanding hits her.

He wanted to be a prefect.

That doesn't make much sense for her, considering how Harry always inspired himself in James and how much Harry doesn’t seem to particularly care for authority figures, but there is disappointment and hurt in his eyes, no matter how much he tries to hide it.

Maybe it was some expectation that Dumbledore would choose him? Or he feels that people don’t trust him anymore? Or maybe he is feeling like he let his parents down for not being a prefect?

Whatever it is, she will have to do something about it. This would be easier if James was there that night - Harry does have a tendency to always hear whatever his dad says -, but since he is away on Order duty tonight, Lily will handle it alone.

She looks around once more before locating Sirius and Ginny talking animatedly to each other; they are close enough to Harry so he will be able to hear them talking, so she approaches them.

‘Aubrey’s head was twice the normal size’, Sirius is saying, opening his hands to emphasize it, almost hitting Lily. ‘Oh, sorry, Lily’.

‘No harm done’, she says lightly. ‘Are you telling the infamous balloon head prank?’

‘I will let you know it’s one of the best Marauders pranks to date’, Sirius replies, seeming very proud of himself.

‘Don’t believe him, they originally wanted Aubrey’s head to shrink’, she tells Ginny conspiringly, making Ginny smirk. ‘And they didn’t even try to hide it, it led them directly into detention. No wonder you never made prefect’.

She knows Harry is looking in their direction, but she pretends to not notice.

‘Can you imagine, you and James as prefects?’

Sirius shudders, putting his hands over his heart and looking properly scandalous, just as Lily knew he would be.

‘We would never! Plus we would have to give ourselves detentions on a daily basis’.

‘Like Remus ever gave you any’, she scoffs playfully.

‘Well, he could turn a blind eye on us sometimes. Ok, most of the time’, Sirius concedes when Lily just raises her eyebrows. ‘But I remember a certain Head Girl doing the same’.

Lily laughs shamelessly.

‘If I didn’t catch you, how could I do anything? And with James as Head Boy, you certainly learned to avoid being caught’.

‘It sure helps when your best friend is Head Boy and decides the patrolling routes’, Sirius agrees, grinning.

‘Hang on’, Ginny says, frowning. ‘James was a Head Boy? Your James?’

Lily sees Harry joining their circle and she smiles to herself.

‘Yeah, we were as shocked as you when we found out’, says Sirius dramatically.

‘But he wasn’t a prefect -’

‘Head Boy and Head Girl may have been prefects, but if the headmaster thinks someone else should be, he can choose’, Lily explains. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you were a prefect or not, as long as you are responsible and trusting, really’.

‘You know, that was the only time I really considered telling Dumbledore we were animagi - we couldn’t let him think James was responsible -’

‘Come on’, Lily says fairly. ‘He had improved a lot by our seventh year, it made sense he would be a Head Boy’.

‘Oh, don’t tell my mum that’, Ginny pleads in a hushed whisper. ‘There is no way I will be a prefect next year, but then she might hope I get sense enough to be a Head Girl’. Ginny turns to Harry, shaking her head in fake panic, and Harry lets out an amused laugh.

They all laugh then, and Lily feels good when she sees Harry is more relaxed now as if remembering his father wasn’t prefect either is enough to raise his spirits.

She doesn’t say it and she doesn’t really mind, but she thinks Harry could be a Head Boy in a couple of years. Harry does have the leadership she saw in James in their last year at Hogwarts, even if he doesn’t mind breaking the rules now and then. But if he is not chosen, that will be fine for her too.

Lily hopes Harry understands this.

She shares a drink with Sirius, who is still telling adventures of the Marauders to Ginny, while keeping an eye on Harry. He drifts off to talk with Fred and George and Mundungus - a trio that speaks of trouble for her -, then he leaves them to sit on a chair, pretending to be busy drinking a butterbeer. His face is troubled once more and Lily resists the urge to sigh.

Harry’s changes of mood are more erratic than she can deal with these days. She always thought Death Eaters and bigotry would be the biggest challenges in her life, but now she thinks understanding teenage behaviour is much more difficult.

She throws a sympathetic look at Molly, who is yawning now, admiring the fact that Molly dealt with that seven times.

‘Oh, sorry, Lily’, Molly says, flushing. ‘I just woke up so early today…’

Lily smiles.

‘Go get some rest, Molly. I patch things up here later’. And when Molly opens her mouth, looking worried, Lily smiles. ‘I won’t let them stay up late, I promise’.

‘Thank you, dear. I am really tired… I’ll just sort out that boggart before I turn in -’

‘No, no, let me’, Lily offers. ‘Is that thing shaking the cabinet in the drawing room?’

‘Yes, Alastor confirmed to me tonight it’s a boggart’.

‘That’s on me then. Go rest’, Lily insists. ‘You already made too much today - helping to sort out that last-minute shopping list, this nice dinner. I’ll handle the boggart later, I will have to wait for James to come home anyway’.

Molly looks at her with a knowing expression.

‘I can never sleep before Arthur returns too’, she murmurs, and Lily is familiar with the fear shining in Molly’s brown eyes.

‘Everything is going to be okay’, she says calmly, even though they both know it is an empty promise.

Molly bides her good night and Lily watches her go.

It really must be more difficult for her, Lily thinks. Seven children, one of them not talking with the family, and Molly already lost her two brothers in the first war. That makes the Weasley braver than her and James, she ponders; they aren’t hunted. They are choosing to be part of this war.

They really are the best family. She thanks silently the day Harry decided to sit together with Ron on the Hogwarts Express.

Speaking of her son, Mad-Eye is talking to him, showing him something, and even though Alastor looks as delighted as he can be, Harry seems to be sick.

Lily turns in his direction, determined to fix the situation again, but before she can reach them, Sirius distracts Mad-Eye and Harry escapes, crossing the kitchen in quick steps and slipping through the door before anyone can talk to him.

Great.

She walks to Mad-Eye and sees he is showing around an old photograph of the first Order of the Phoenix, that finally comes to her hand. Lily looks at herself, smiling hand-in-hand with James, and is startled to see how young they both look. Well, not just them. Everyone.

And those who are not here anymore look even younger.

She sees Marlene’s grin and Dorcas’s wistful smile and longing burns inside her for those evenings talking in the Common Room, for their girl’s night out after ending Hogwarts, for all the plans they made. They are so happy and hopeful in her memories, blissful to the fact Dorcas would face Voldemort alone, or that Marlene and all her family would perish in a fire.

She never said goodbye to any of them.

‘What were you talking about with Harry, Alastor?’, she asks in a quiet voice, returning the photo to him as if the distance can lessen the pain that photograph brings to her. She feels a little bit mad at him for bringing this photo to a party.

It’s not like she can or wants to forget all of those who died - it’s just she did not expect to see the reminder of all they lost so suddenly...

‘Just showing the boy the original group. Thought he might like it - so many stories to tell’.

Lily wonders if he told Harry the tragic end of most of those stories and she grimaces at the thought.

Harry doesn’t return so, after a while, Lily leaves the kitchen too. People are still talking animatedly and there are still a few minutes before she will have to break the party. But Lily doesn’t feel like chatting right now, so she may as well get things done. She considers going to see Harry, to check if his things are all packed for tomorrow, but he probably doesn’t want company. He is like her in that sense; prefers to be left alone to brood.

She enters the drawing room, looking around with mild interest. The children did make a good job cleaning everything up, but Grimmauld Place will never seem a happy place. Too many bad memories and dark thoughts, she thinks, as Kreacher passes behind herself, mumbling to himself and glaring at her.

Sirius forbade him of saying mudblood, but she only needs to look him in the eyes to feel the word.

There is nothing she can do about it and Lily prefers to fix on the problems she can solve anyway.

The cabinet close to the window is giving small jumps as if it’s alive. She walks to it, her mind already fixed on the remembrance of Aubrey with that big balloon head (he had really been a jerk and James and Sirius had pranked him for harassing first years muggle-borns, so she hadn’t mind laughing that time), and takes out her wand.

‘Alohomora!’

The cabinet opens and, appearing out of thin air, she sees James holding Harry as a baby, both lying in the ground, with eyes closed, pale and still. Dead.

They are dead.

Her heart beats faster and her mouth is suddenly dry, even as Lily knows this is just the boggart. It feels more like a dream, though, so she stays still for a few seconds, watching her husband and son’s corpses with a strange detachment. She really thought it would be just a dementor - and she would be ready for it this time.

But Lily supposes the memories that the dementor had arisen activated the true fear she had felt that night - that James and Harry would die while everything she could do was to watch hopelessly. Like she is doing now.

The fear creeps through her mind like smoke she can’t help but inhale, and that smoke makes her head light and dizzy, creating images in her head. She pictures how her life would be if that had happened, if Lily had taken Voldemort’s offer to stand aside while he murdered her husband and son and she was left alone.

And lost.

She wonders what she would have done and it’s surprisingly easy to answer. Find and kill Pettigrew, for starters, because there would be no James to hate him more than her and no son to give her other priorities. Then she would go after Voldemort; she would not rest until he was dead, no matter the cost. The boy-who-lived would be replaced by the mother-who-killed.

But then - and that is the scariest part - there would be nothing. No reason to live for. Her days would be empty and pointless, forever missing the two people she had most loved and knowing no vengeance would ever fill that hole…

‘Mum?’, she hears a voice asking, and for a moment Lily can’t really match the voice to anyone, certain she had never heard it before, that he died when he was just a baby -

She turns slowly to find Harry - her living son - at the door, looking at the dead bodies on the floor, then at her.

‘It’s a boggart’, Harry realizes. ‘Don’t - get out of here - let someone else -’

Harry looks worried for her. Somehow, this clears the smoke in her head. Lily steadies her hand and looks back at the corpses lying on the floor with nothing but determination.

‘Riddikulus!’, she says loud and clear, and the boggart turns into a man with a big blue balloon in the place of his head. Lily lets out a nervous laugh and the boggart vanishes in a puff of smoke.

Her heart is still beating faster, so Lily takes a moment to calm herself, to let all those bad feelings slip out of her; she almost jumps when she feels Harry’s hand on her shoulder. She had not heard him walking to her.

'Mum?’, he calls very quietly. ‘Are you ok?’

'It was just a stupid boggart, Harry', she says, forcing herself to smile at him. Harry is frowning, seeing through her empty smile just as she sees through his. 'Just go to bed, tomorrow is -'

'Do you always see us?', he asks in a hushed whisper, ignoring her dismissal. 'I mean - that -'

He stops, unable to continue, and Lily feels a sudden urge to just tell him it was nothing and to let it go. She knows Harry would hate it, but he also would respect her desire to be left alone with her thoughts and fears.

But since all she’s been asking of her son lately is that he talks to her, Lily supposes she has to set the example.

'Sometimes, yes’, she admits in a low voice. ‘At other times it’s a dementor. But it’s all related to the same thing, really’.

Harry looks deep in thought and he stares at the point where the bodies were.

'It was me as a baby', he says, and Lily nods. 'But - why? I mean, I lived’.

She sighs once more and sits on the couch.

'Come here', she asks, and Harry sits opposite to her on the same couch, his legs crossed just like he used to do when he was young and was listening to one of her bedtime stories, except this time most of his leg is out of the couch. That makes her feel strangely comforted, even if she feels her eyes tearing up a little. ‘You grew up so fast’.

‘Mum -’, he starts, looking half-embarrassed as he always does when James or Lily start remembering him as a kid.

‘I am saying it like a good thing’, she promises. ‘I just feel so lucky to have witnessed it all’.

Harry seems confused.

‘Lucky?’

She looks away to where the boggart was on the floor.

‘When I think about that night - the one where you got your scar - I always remember how close we were to lose everything. How you were almost… you and James…’

‘But it didn’t happen’, he says forcefully. ‘We all survived’.

‘Yes, but back then, at the time - I didn’t think we would make it. I really thought… I really lost hope for a moment. Sometimes I still dream of that night, but my worst nightmares are… of that’. She points to the floor. ‘If somehow you and James were gone and I was left alone -’

She can’t continue. Harry breathes heavily.

‘You wouldn’t be alone, I mean, you would still have Remus and Sirius, they -’

‘Harry’, she interrupts him softly, looking back at him. He already seems distraught, but she has to make him understand. ‘I love them, of course, but how would it be if I and your father had died then? If you were raised by Remus and Sirius?’

He stays silent for a moment and Lily can see him picturing all that alternative life. Lily supposes Sirius as a figure parent is an amusing idea, but Harry doesn’t smile for a second.

‘It would never be enough’, he whispers at least. ‘They would never replace you’.

‘They would never try to, I am sure, but... This is it. A life without you and your father would be just - just empty for me. And that’s what I fear the most. That I would be too weak that night and that I had to watch you both dying’.

‘You are strong’, Harry says resolutely, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, though Lily can’t tell if he is doing that for her sake or his own, to also confirm to him that everything is alright. ‘I - I heard what happened’.

‘What do you mean?’

Harry looks abashed, and he lowers his eyes.

'That’s why dementors hit me so hard. The thing I hear when they are near… It’s that night. Bits of it, but I hear... You and Voldemort. You plead for me, and he - he laughs and tells you to stand aside, but you refuse. You always refuse’.

Lily blinks, feeling the blood leaving her face.

'You never said anything’.

'I didn't want to upset you', Harry whispers. 'I know you don't like remembering it'.

She gives him a tiny smile despite everything. She never told him about her own worries, but Harry probably noticed how even though she didn't have any problem explaining about Voldemort, only James would talk to him about that Halloween night.

Harry sees more than people give him credit for.

'You could have told me', she says softly. 'It is not your job to worry about me, Harry'.

'But I do', he admits. 'I don't want anything to happen to you'.

There is a desperation in his voice now, like if he is really afraid something could happen with her and, with a jolt, Lily realizes they never really talked about what happened earlier that month, about how Harry drew away the dementors from her.

About how he needed to do it because she had frozen.

'I am sorry to have scared you', she says tenderly.

'It's not - I wasn't really scared with that boggart'.

Lily believes him. Harry seems to think his father is invincible and he is too selfless to regard his own death as something to be afraid of.

'I meant about the dementors a few weeks ago. And if somehow you thought I couldn't handle that boggart right now'.

Harry blinks.

'I didn't think that', he says slowly, and Lily knows he is considering his own feelings on the matter. 'I mean - I know what you are capable of'.

'I just don't want you thinking that you need to take care of me. I am the parent here. That's my job'.

'I don’t want to lose you’, he whispers guiltily, as if somehow even thinking about it should be wrong. ‘I wouldn’t - I don’t know how I could cope if -’

Harry looks so fragile right now that she does the simplest thing. She stretches her legs, in an offer, and Harry lies down, placing his head on her lap, allowing her to caress his hair like she used to do when he was young, until he would fall asleep.

‘I won’t live forever, Harry’, she says softly. ‘Someday you will be without me - and really, that’s what I hope for’. When he looks startled, she adds with a smile: ‘That you get to live longer than me. That you get a full happy life’.

‘It will only be happy if you are there’, he insists. ‘You and dad. You -’, he stops, closing his eyes as if he doesn’t want her to see more of his emotions than he is already letting it show on his voice. ‘You need to be careful. I know you are good, but - sometimes people are just in the wrong place in the wrong time’.

She knows what he is talking about and she remembers seeing Harry and Cedric Diggory leaving together for the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, both looking thrilled that it would be over soon and that one of them might win the Tournament.

And she remembers when they all noticed something was off, when there were whispers of a dead champion and how she had feared so much that it would be Harry… And the guilt she’d felt later when she was just relieved that it wasn’t him.

The good die young, her mother used to say somberly when she saw news of a tragedy.

Lily thinks about the photograph of the old Order, of hope and dreams that mattered none when the people were dead, and she finally understands what upset Harry enough to make him leave the dining party.

‘Moody told you what happened with people from the first Order of the Phoenix’, she says.

Harry bits his lips, looking away from her.

‘I can’t promise you me and your father will make it through this war, Harry’, she says slowly, wishing she could lie to him about it. ‘But I can assure you that we will make everything we can to live… and if not, we will always be with you, you do know that, right?’

She touches his chest, right above his heart, and Harry trembles.

‘I know’, he concedes at least, but there is sorrow in his eyes. Then he looks back at her. ‘Moody told me about the Prewetts and Benjy and the Longbottoms and… I recognized Marlene from that photo in your office. You never told me her whole family had died too’.

‘It was just too painful’, Lily sighs. ‘It was just after your first birthday, when we were already hiding and I remember thinking... maybe I should have done something, I should have protected her -’

‘It was not your fault!’, Harry cries, looking appalled that she feels like that.

Lily refrains herself of pointing out the irony there.

‘I know. It’s Voldemort’s fault’, she pauses, looking at the eyes that are a mirror to hers. ‘Everything that happened. Blame him, blame the people who think like him and allow him to ascend to power, but never blame anyone else’.

Harry blinks and doesn’t answer her.

‘We are better prepared this time’, she tells him, still playing with his hair gently. ‘It will not be like in the First War - we started too late then and we were too few. Now - now we have a better idea of what we need to do, of what he’s after -’

‘The weapon’, he says, and Lily remembers their first night in Grimmauld Place and what little they had told Harry. They never really said it was a weapon, but if Harry thought so, it was for the better.

He didn’t need to hear about that prophecy, not yet. It would give him the wrong ideas probably.

‘Among other things’, she says vaguely.

He sits again, looking rather upset at her.

‘You really won’t tell me?’

‘That’s not your burden to care, Harry. Not now. I know you don’t like to hear that and I know you don’t think it’s fair, but… when you are older. Of age, at least. After school. If there is still a war going on then… then we can talk about you joining the Order and knowing things’.

Harry doesn’t look like he believes her. ‘You would just not care if I joined the Order? Simple as that?’

‘I will care’, she guarantees, running a hand nervously through her hair as James would have done. ‘But I won’t forbid you. No one forbade me, it wouldn’t be fair if I tried to stop you’.

He still looks suspiciously, but Lily just returns his gaze without blinking. She is telling him the truth; sure, she will do everything she can so that Voldemort can be finished before he is of age, but if he is seventeen and the war is still happening, she knows she won’t be able to stop him.

Like her, Harry never refrains from doing the right thing and she taught him to never stand for prejudice.

‘And until then? What do I do? Just sit here waiting?’, he asks, but for once he doesn’t sound like he is fighting with her.

‘Of course not. You can study’. When Harry grimaces, she smiles. ‘Everything you do in school is important. Every lesson - yeah, even Potions, don’t give me that look. You study and you use it to prepare yourself. Not just you, but Ron and Hermione too. All of you must be ready for what happens outside. Life won’t be like in school all the time, where you know when a spell will hit you or that when the bell rings you are safe’.

Harry bits his lips, looking thoughtful.

‘I know it’s not. I mean - for the Triwizard Tournament I learned a lot of spells and how to cast them, but - when it comes to the real thing, when -’, he takes a deep breath. ‘- when I was in the graveyard with Voldemort, it’s not like in school. It’s just your guts and instinct and - and trying to survive’.

This is the most Harry has said about the night of Voldemort’s resurrection to her and, for the first time, Lily wonders if she really wants to know. Just thinking about the desperation he must have felt fighting for his life…

He survived, she tells herself. You won’t be able to keep him under your wings forever, so you give him all the skills you can. You make sure he will be ready.

‘That is it, Harry. Promise you will take your studies seriously this year. Not just because of the OWLs, but because you know what’s happening out here, even if everyone else is denying it’.

He looks solemnly as he gives a tiny nod to her.

‘I will. And I will make sure others are prepared too. I - I don’t want - what happened to Cedric - to ever happen again’.

She smiles serenely to him, even as she remembers Amos Diggory’s cries and thinks darkly he won’t be the last parent to despair for his child in this war.

The good die young.

‘Are you going to stay here?’, he asks, distracting her from her grim thoughts. Lily sighs.

‘No, I promised Molly I would make sure everyone is in their bed not too late. You know how chaotic September 1st can be. And then -’

‘Then?’

‘I will just stay up a little bit longer’.

Harry looks at her as if he can see all that she is not telling him.

‘Dad will be home late?’ he asks, though it doesn’t really seem a question. Lily just sighs, confirming it. ‘I could keep you company’.

Lily smiles more warmly now.

‘You can go rest, Harry, it’s no problem. I’ll just make myself a tea and wait in the kitchen’.

‘I’m not sleepy’, he assures her. ‘I haven’t been sleeping much. I keep having the weirdest dream, really… And, well, I thought we could make some hot chocolate’.

That brings a warmth to her that has nothing to do with the beverage. She thinks of late nights with James and Harry, especially in winter, when they would make hot chocolate and share it in front of the fireplace in their house.

That kind of silly small moments that never seem important as you are living them, but somehow they turn into your favourite memories.

‘With whipped cream?’, she asks, her voice lighter now, and Harry smirks, making his resemblance to James more evident.

‘You can even put a little bit of brandy and I won’t tell anyone’.

She blushes, getting up. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about’.

‘I’m fifteen, mum, I get it now what was the medicine in your chocolate’.

‘When did you get so smart?’, she asks playfully, taking his arm so they can descend the stairs together to the kitchen. ‘Anyway, no alcohol for you’.

‘Spoilsport’, he complains without any real malice. ‘When will I get to drink?’

‘If you are still asking me, Harry, then you are still too young, trust me’, Lily answers grinning.

Harry shakes his head, mumbling to himself almost indignantly but this is such a normal teenage behaviour that Lily will take it without complaining. That’s the kind of thing she wants him to be worried about.

She kisses him softly on the cheek before they enter the kitchen, knowing Harry would be too embarrassed to be seen receiving a kiss from his mother in front of everyone - another very usual teenage behaviour -, and smiles to herself.

‘Thanks for the company’, she says later, when they are alone in the kitchen after sending everyone to bed.

‘Anytime, mum’, he promises, filling his cup with whipped cream, while they accommodate themselves to wait for James to come home.

#Jily Lives #Jily Fanfic #Harry Potter #Lily Potter #Lily Potter is a good mother #Harry and Lily moments #angst with a happy ending #t: fanfiction #Eyes glistening

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years ago

Text

A Trip to the Palace

Alastor/Astor (hi 👋) visits Alastor/King (@akillingspreeinwhite) for a friendly little hangout: Astor does a couple musical numbers for King, and King in turn gives him a tour of his royal palace. :)

It's the most traumatic experience Astor's had in over half a century.

(This is what you might call An Important Thread which Will Have Plot Consequences.)

King

👑 My dear other! What say you to coming over for that tour, eh? I think it's long since time we officially met in person, don't you?

Astor

🎶 It certainly is—and I think I owe you a song or two, too, don't I!

King

👑 I believe you do! When would you be free for such a visit, my good man?

Astor

🎶 Oh, any time after rehearsal in the next few days—you let me know when would work best for you!

King

👑 How does tomorrow sound? I'm sure I can have this palace tidied up in time, haha!

Astor

🎶 Tomorrow it is! Just let me know where you'd like me to open the door—I'd hate to, say, teleport into your bathtub!

King

👑 The courtyard will be perfect-- it's pretty much got a beacon on it anyway!

Astor

🎶 Then the courtyard it is! I'll see you there, your majesty!

King

👑 Excellent! See you then. :)

Astor

Alastor spent the night before his visit in the princess's hotel rather than the airship and showered there before rehearsal, paranoid about how much his unnervingly powerful alternate would be able to *sense* on him of his current living situation but unsure what he could do about it except try to wash off the scent of his home. He sent brief notices to the allies he'd brought into his budding conspiracy against the king so they'd know where he was if he disappeared; and then, after work, he teleported over.

For all his intentions to be on his guard, the moment he stepped into King's universe, Astor froze. He'd known he would be going into a universe where radio was the preferred technology of the king—as opposed to, as most other Hells saw it, the carrier wave of a deadly monster—and so he was expecting more signals. And yet, he'd never expected as many as *this.* It overpowered even the sounds of radio signals bouncing through New York City at night; the air was saturated with radio signals, so thick he could almost smell them in the air like a perfume. Momentarily forgetting who he was supposed to look for, he stood still, head tipped up, eyes wide, ears twitching, like a deer entirely focused on listening.

King

The palace courtyard was alight with yellow light of the old style bulbs set into the lamps that stood around the perimeter. King had picked this spot for Astor to hop in for a reason-- it would give him quite the view of the sky, and the city below.

The sky, as it was, was similar to what Astor would know of his own and others save two key differences-- a veritable flock of airships of various kinds drifting their ways across the sky, and the moon that was Heaven. That moon....was no more. A mere crescent of white sat where normally would be the eternally full shape of Heaven. Even from this far off, the scarred charring was visible against that pristine white surface.

The city on the other hand, spread far-- farther than any other Pentagram City, and the skyline was awash in neon and spotlights, architecture mixing New Orleans, New York, and Las Vegas into an amalgam of sin and glamour. The sound of it didn't reach this high up-- unless, like the King, one could parse the waves of radio that hung like a thick fog in the air, invisible but omnipresent.

Spotlights flicked to life on either side of the stairs that lead up to the front door of the palace-- a mix of a New Orelean mansion and a Greek temple, with pillars and art nouveau flairs all over-- and they focused on said doorway. Trumpets sounded-- a jazzy flair-- and two doormen opened it, King himself stepping through. His grin wide, his back straight, his overly large micstaff in the crook of his elbow, he trotted down the steps, a dancer's grace making it look easy despite the massive set of antlers on his head.

"Welcome, welcome, my dear other! May I present my palace!" He moved quickly over to Astor, inclining his head towards him-- a King did not bow to others, after all. "Easy trip I presume?"

Astor

For a moment, he was too lost in the sounds to process the sights; but once he did register the sight... His attention was so transfixed darting from airship to airship that he missed the missing moon completely until his gaze had skimmed over it no less than three times; but then, he couldn't look away from the moon. Gone? Heaven, *Heaven* was gone? His alternate's work? Or the disruption that had allowed his alternate to ascend in the first place? The city didn't much interest him—what was one Sin City compared to another?—but the sky held him. What of God? What of Ma? What about those airships—what of Sir Pentious? Where was Sir Pentious?

But he immediately turned when the spotlights flicked on, smile as perfectly unreadable as always. He took in the architectural style, the doormen's faces, the choice of music, the antlers—quietly passed his judgments, and locked them inside.

"And what a palace it is, my goodness! I thought you might have just moved into Lucifer's, but no!" A king did not bow, but then generally an American didn't bow to a king either—his nationality wasn't a facet of his identity Astor generally put all that much stock into, but it was kind of hard not to right after he'd come from rehearsing a musical about the Revolutionary War—so the half-bow Astor offered was more of a theatrical flourish than it was a *real* bow. A gesture of respect, but not a gesture of deference. "Easy as can be! Almost no traffic!"

King

"Excellent, excellent!" King laughed, moving to stand beside Astor. He gestured with his staff towards the stairs and the doorway within. "Right this way, I had my people set up some refreshments in one of the sitting rooms-- I hope it's to your liking! Unless you're not done out here in the courtyard, I know the sights can be in_tox_ icating!"

He laughed again, not actually giving Astor any more time to ponder as he started with a brisk step towards the stairs-- obviously, he was used to people going along with _his_ whims and not the other way around.

"I figured that you could get your bearings inside, enjoy the refreshments, and then perform? And then after, we can do the tour!"

Astor

"Quite hospitable of you!" Astor immediately trotted along, only just hanging back enough to let King take the lead. He wasn't going to stand around and gawk while King watched, anyway; he was here to spy, and part of that meant giving away as little as possible in return. That included not revealing to King what parts of his kingdom caught Astor's eye. There was nothing to stop King from visiting as many other universes as he wanted to see how they differed, but that didn't mean Astor had to show off which differences *mattered.* He'd slipped up when he arrived. He didn't intend to do it again. "I'd feel embarrassed about not bringing something to contribute to the refreshments, but my goodness, what *does* one bring to a *palace*? I'm afraid my mother's etiquette lessons never covered that one."

King

"Oh yes, completely understandable! It's certainly difficult to think on what one would bring that isn't already there, at said palace!" He laughed once more, tap shoes clicking on the hardwood floor as he leaded Astor to the sitting room. Sure enough, there were refreshments-- finger sandwiches with various meats and a pot of coffee for them.

"Please, have a seat! It's so good to finally meet you in person, Alastor! I've been looking forward to it for a good while now!"

Astor

He took a seat, decided after only a second's contemplation that the odds were low that there were any sort of fairy food or Persephone's pomegranate rules attached to these finger sandwiches (and even lower that he wouldn't be able to counter them), and plucked up one. "And a pleasure to finally meet *you!* It's not often one runs into an alternate with such a large crown." He glanced pointedly up at his alternate's antlers—haha, he's funny.

King

King laughed, then took a sandwich for himself. He popped it into his mouth wholesale and just...swallowed. Didn't even chew, how about that.

"Oh yes, certainly!! I've yet to see another us that has quite the rack that I do!" Another laugh. "Perhaps it's simply a side effect of being king!"

Astor

Did he. Did he taste it? Does he actually enjoy his food?

"Or maybe a side effect of getting to decide the width of your domicile's door frames." He briefly allowed his own antlers to stretch out to the same size as King's, and reached up to flick one of them with a finger like he was lightly chastising a child for being a pest. "The bane of shower curtains and chandeliers—and try driving a car without a convertible roof! Ha!" His antlers shrank back down. "I consider them like those miniature toothpaste tubes they make for travelers' convenience."

King

"Hah! Yes, just so, just so. I had everything in the city scaled to my size and girth so I hardly notice it! But you're quite right." He poured himself a cup of coffee and then one for Astor.

"Do you take anything with it?"

Astor

"No, black." He held out a hand for his cup. "As do you, I expect?"

King

"Indeed!" He handed the cup to his other and sat back, taking a sip. "Mm, nothing like fresh coffee from the living world! Hell coffee just doesn't have the same flavor."

King took another sip and his smile widened. "So, how do you like things so far? You hear the frequencies, I assume? It's something, isn't it?"

Astor

Well, at least there still *was* a living world. After seeing what was left of Heaven, Astor wouldn't have been surprised if there wasn't. "It certainly is. Music and chatter from every angle! Quite a garden you've cultivated here. I'm assuming no small part of that must be from regulations requiring signals be broadcast rather than quietly shuffled around via cables and wires?"

King

"Yes! I wanted everything out there in the air, where I can hear it! It's so much better that way-- I can just sift through the frequencies if I get bored! It's a good way to keep my entertained." The implication being that it was definitely a bad thing when he was NOT entertained.

"Makes it easier to hear any rumblings of discontent, as well." He winked.

Astor

"Oh, who wants to listen to people *complain* about you? I deal with enough of that and I'm not even a politician!" He laughed. "Unless you have reason to be concerned about said rumblings? I imagine any ambitious sorts would consider a recently-crowned usurper to be fair game, but as to whether they actually pose a legitimate threat—! Well, I've only just got here. I don't know what they can do versus what you can do, now do I?" He said with an inviting look, in case his alternate should wish to elaborate on any current political threats.

King

"Oh, there's generally no real threats to my power-- sometimes an overlord will get a big head and think they can take me on, only to be obliterated in an instant!" He shook his head, the sound of a tiny violin playing briefly.

"So sad that they're so unbearably stupid!"

Astor

"Maybe you ought to let some of them build their ranks a bit longer. Kick them to the curb rather than crush them completely. See if any of them get to the point where it takes you an hour to obliterate them instead of a second!" A wink.

"Who *are* the major players in your brave new world, here—if you've bothered to learn any of their names! Not that I could name many of them in my *own,* but, I'm curious about the butterfly effect between universes. How a little tweak here or there produces wildly different results. I wonder if there are any big names in common." (Most particularly, he wonders about those airships outside—but he's not about to say so.)

King

"Well, let's see if I can remember-- they squabble an awful lot you see, it can get so hard to remember who's who this decade!" He tapped a clawed finger against his lip, humming a soft tune.

"Well, there's Valentino-- he's in charge of a lot of the sex scene! And Velvet's all over the fashion industry! There's a lovely lady named Madame in charge of a lot of the saloons...." He shrugged. "That's all off the top of my head! You'd probably have to ask some of my staff for more, they keep better tabs than I do!"

Astor

"I'm more or less familiar with all those names—although I've never heard Velvet associated with *fashion.* Primarily baked goods and potions." And the nebulous thing called "social media," but he was pretty sure that meant "famous for being famous," so that didn't count. "Ever heard of a fellow called Vox? Television for a head, likes to buy up fresh technologies and act like he made them. In most other universes, Valentino and Velvet keep him around to exploit his industry connections."

King

"Vox?" For the first time, King looked utterly befuddled-- until the mention of a tv for a head. His brows shot up and he laughed. "Oh, do you mean William? No, he's nothing. Though that IS curious! So he's a big deal in your universe is he? What kind of name is Vox?"

Astor

"I have no idea! And I couldn't tell you what his name was before, never thought it worth digging up. But I've seen multiple television heads around, I suppose this William of yours could as easily be one of them as not?" He shrugged. "At any rate, if Vox was being *Vox,* you'd probably have heard about it. He's loud and he also likes broadcast media—albeit only for how many ads it can sell."

King

"I'm sure I could find a picture of this 'Vox' and see if it's him, one moment--" His eyes went to static-- not like Astor's own red static but a glaring white static-- and then a moment he was back again. "Yes, that's him! Blue, filled with electricity, but my, my, isn't yours a cocky son of a gun!"

King laughed. "Mine's much more....withdrawn." His smile turned smarmy.

Astor

"*Good.*" No mercy. "What changed, did Valentino break him?"

A split second after he said it, he regretted that specific word choice and the way it evoked cracked screens; he knew *just* enough about those two's dynamic to feel... not *sympathy* for Vox, but at least like it would be unforgivably gauche of Alastor to make fun of him for it. But, well, too late to take it back, better to act like he hadn't second guessed the word choice at all.

King

"Oh no, I doubt Valentino even knows he exists! In fact, I'd be startled that YOU knew he existed, save for the fact that he's a big shot!" He laughed and shrugged. "He's not....anything big here! At all! I made sure of it!"

Astor

"Oh, good! I suppose you've probably set up a separate ring specifically for sinners of *his* particularly vile ilk. You know—network execs." Sips at his coffee.

King

"I think the city takes care of them well enough-- there's no networks here! No sir, not a one! I don't allow any of that silliness." He chuckled, taking a sip of his own coffee. He set aside the cup and sat back.

"So, are you ready to perform for me?"

Astor

"And good riddance to *that!*"

No mention of the maker of those airships. Astor tried not to let his hopes sink. He scarfed down a couple more finger sandwiches and hopped to his feet. "Whenever you are! Do you have a place for me, or is Lafayette going to be dancing on your refreshment table?"

King

King smiled amicably and raised both his hands-- and with a double snap of his fingers, the entire room changed. No more table or refreshments. All furniture save for the chair King himself sat in-- now more of a throne-- gone, giving Astor a nice open area to preform in.

"There you go, my dear other."

Astor

"Then we'll save dancing on the tabletops for the next time I go bar hopping, hah!"

He'd already decided just how much magic was safe to use in his little performance. He didn't want to look like he was holding back, but he didn't want to do anything that would encourage the king to think his abilities were *interesting.* So only a quick costume change; the background music and other characters' lines weren't played live, but out of the original Broadway recording; and several of his enthralled shadows were called in to perform the other characters' choreography; and nothing fancier than that.

Anyway, he wasn't here to impress his alternate with special effects. He was here to show off his singing and dancing. He performed two songs for King, his standout numbers: "Guns and Ships" for Lafayette, and "What'd I Miss?" for Jefferson.

King

King watched, eager and attentive, Astor's audience of one. Once the final notes of What Did I Miss? rang out, King was on his feet clapping-- and a veritable army of shades behind him were as well. There had to be hundreds at least, maybe into the thousands, the crowd extending into an infinite darkness behind him. All gave Astor a standing ovation.

"Brava, brava! That was quite the show, my good man! Very nice! I was entranced the whole time!" The shades behind him quickly vanished, like a wave receding, but not before Astor might be able to discern a couple familiar shapes-- well, one of those looked like Rosie, didn't it? And another, was that Kyxs, his alternate's apprentice? My, my, what were the stories there....

Astor

He dismissed his shadows—it wasn't like *they'd* done the work—before bowing extravagantly to his clapping audience. "A preview of ovations to come, one hopes!"

He caught sight of what looked like Rosie, but no other familiar shapes. *That* hurt his heart to see. But no, it probably wasn't Rosie, was it? Only humans could be reduced shadow, and Rosie had never been that. Surely *that* didn't vary between universes?

But he didn't ask and his expression didn't waver. "I hope this means I've earned my tour!"

King

"You certainly have!" Another double snapping of his fingers, and the room was put to rights. King chuckled slightly, hands clasping behind his back as he started to move.

"I think we should start in a room that every good palace has-- the throne room! Right this way!" He stepped from the room and started down the main hall again. It opened to a large domed room, with marble floors and pillars, white with veins of red and gold. In the center of the room was a dais with King's throne-- a chair _just_ ornate enough to be called such, but not opulent enough to be ostentatious.

And then the dome itself-- not stone, not wood, but panels of multicolored glass, some large as a sofa and others small as a handspan made up the thing. Light from outside filtered down spraying the room in colors-- reds, purples, golden yellows, and pure whites. It spiraled around, a pattern but not of anything in particular.

"So, what do you think?"

Astor

"I think it's quite kaleidoscopic!" His neck was craned to look up at the dome. (And in the back of his mind, he was comparing the space to a throne room he'd fantasized about half a century ago, one full of colors and frescoes. Even with the red and gold threaded through it, he always thought white marble looked cold and sterile—like a tile floor in a hospital kitchen.) "How *does* a new king of Hell have his palace decorated, by the by? Magic or manual labor?"

King

"A bit of both-- architects to design, magic to help with the more difficult pieces, like that." He gestured to the dome.

Outside, a boom sounded as one of the airships fired upon a building, the sound shaking the palace, if only slightly.

"Oh, looks like they found something to shoot at! I wonder what it was--" He laughed and shrugged. "I'm sure I'll be informed later."

Astor

His heart leaped. "What was *that* all about?" The airships had come up, he could ask about them now safely, couldn't he? If the airships were active, perhaps that meant Sir Pentious was still active—but no, wouldn't his alternate have mentioned him with the other active overlords? But who else could be running those airships? Perhaps Sir Pentious wasn't an important enough player to mention—but how *couldn't* he be if he had a fleet like that?

Mildly, he asked, "Skirmish over some turf?"

King

"No, no, probably just saw someone doing something annoying enough to earn a blast." He shook his head, his smile turning rueful.

"I'll need to have a talk with those Eggs! At least, if I found out they're blasting around without a good reason!"

Astor

His heart leaped again. "What, are the eggs *your* security force? In my universe they have loyalties elsewhere." He laughed shortly. "They're hardly who *I'd* pick for my Air Force, but."

King

"They're just about the only ones who know how to run those damned things! They're capable enough, but I might need to bring the captains in for a bit of a refresher!" He chuckled and shrugged.

"Ah, well, Eggs will be Eggs! Come along, there's more to see!" He started down another hall that joined to the throne room-- it seemed that acted like a hub of sorts-- and wound his way to another impressively large room, with an impressively large table in it. One it was a model of the Rings in three dimensions-- a map and display all at once.

"This is my meeting-slash-war room! I usually talk with my advisors in here."

Astor

*What about their inventor?* Where was he? Exterminated? Executed? Maybe—Alastor tried to tell himself not to hope—maybe *here*, somewhere, perhaps commander of the airships—Alastor couldn't imagine him being content that close to the throne without sitting on it, but... He was dying to ask—but the last thing he wanted was to sound too interested. He swallowed down the questions and a dozen more, and followed King.

It was hard to get excited over a 3D map when his mind was still on the airships, but he tried to look duly impressed anyway. "Is war still much of a problem?" he asked. "Your 'advisors'?"

King

"Not too much, but we planned every stage of the War on Heaven from this very room!" He nodded, and smirked, looking ever so smug and proud of himself.

"And yes, advisors! It's awful hard running a whole sprawling kingdom like Hell without people to rely on! There's Husker, who's in charge of the treasury. Mimzy keeps me appraised on all things happening in the social scenes, Oleander is my tech expert and keeps everything up to date with current trends, for the most part-- he's the reason I was able to get online!"

He paused and shrugged his shoulders a bit. "Well, him and Pentious-- but I generally have Sir working on bigger and grander things than what Oleander handles. His genius would be wasted doing the menial work, after all!"

Astor

He only barely managed not to scoff at the phrase *War on Heaven*, but he couldn't quite suppress the wry curl to his smile. "Oh, is *that* what happened to the moon?" As much as the idea of destroying Heaven made him deeply uncomfortable, it also struck him as just as pointless. Never mind the how—*why?*

His skepticism of this whole endeavor mounted as his alternate listed his advisors. Really? Mimzy, he could marginally see, she'd no doubt love that kind of public position, and he had no idea who Oleander was, but Husk? *Husk?* Really? An advisor? Alastor would hardly trust Husk to advise him on mixing cocktails.

But his disbelief was immediately banished by a far more important name. *Pentious.* Alastor managed to keep his shuddering intake of breath silent—no mean feat for the Radio Demon—not even a whisper of static. "Oh, is he around! I would have thought he'd be giving his eggs orders."

He was *here.* He was part of the ruling regime. Maybe he'd decided he was content as royal weapons engineer—or maybe he was still planning a hostile takeover—or maybe he was the power behind the throne, letting King and his charisma serve as the face of Hell's leadership—but what mattered was that he was here. He was here, and King called him *Pentious* and *genius*, and airships were everywhere, and at least in this *one* universe he was thriving. Astor's heart soared. Perhaps this was a glimpse of the kind of future he could hope for.

King

"I bring them in every now and then when I need him to make sure they're doing what they're told, but most of the time the Eggs take orders from me!" He laughed.

"And yes, he's still around! I couldn't have gotten the throne without him! Nor would the assaults on Heaven gone as smoothly as they did-- he's so creative when it comes to weaponry after all!" King's expression turned softer, downright gooey by Alastor standards, as he spoke. Enthusiastically, he continued.

"It was me, Sir, and Rosie against all of Hell at the start! We three banded together and made a pact to take down Lucifer and succeeded! Quite handily, I might add. Only seventeen years after I landed in Hell, and then I was sitting on the throne! It was all quite marvelous."

Astor

The corners of Astor's smile threatened to turn gooey as well. This *was* a glimpse of their future, their potential, what they could do together. A Hell covered in airships and radio waves. Even Heaven crushed before their combined might.

"Is he *ever* creative!" Astor laughed. "Oh, in my neck of the woods, Rosie's never been interested in conquering anything—but believe you me, I have *certainly* seen Sir Pentious at work." He wanted to say just *how much* he'd seen, how highly he valued it all—but even now, he reminded himself, he *had* to remain wary. The fact that *this* Alastor might be the first truly kindred spirit of all the alternates Astor had ever spoken to didn't mean he could let his guard down. King was still a potential threat.

"And here I was under the impression I was speaking to *the* conqueror of Hell! If it was a joint effort, I certainly hope I can say hello to him before I go home? If he's not too busy, mind!"

Strange that Sir Pentious wasn't the one calling himself king; but Astor supposed he must have decided inventing to his heart's content was more satisfying than sitting on the throne. It made sense, Astor could see him enjoying conquering but not ruling, and of the two of them Alastor would make the more charismatic figurehead. Maybe that was why the palace was so much more classical than what Astor would have picked and what he imagined an alternate would have picked; maybe that was why everything was white, a compromise third choice they'd settled on so they didn't have to argue over how much of the place would be garishly red versus depressingly black, with those streaks of red and gold to represent them both. (Astor wondered if perhaps they, too, had a yellow kitchen.)

King

"I certainly helped spearhead and kickstart our major pushes, but I figured teaming up with people who already wanted to bring down Lucifer would be a good move on my part! I'm never one to turn down help, especially extremely competent help!" He laughed once more.

King's expression took a turn for the inscrutable as Astor asked to meet Sir Pentious. He hummed softly, clawed fingers coming up to stroke at his chin in consideration.

"Well, _normally_, I don't allow many to visit dear Sir! He's generally far to busy to entertain! But considering what a special occasion this is..." He hummed again, louder this time.

"Why not! Sure, at the end of the tour, I'll take you to see him! I'm sure he'll have questions for you too-- he's been ever so curious about the whole multiverse business, anywho!!"

With a sweeping motion, he strode back to the door way, gesturing for Astor to follow to continue the tour.

Astor

So this alternate himself had wanted to take down Lucifer, he hadn't just been swept up in someone else's ambitions. Strange, so very strange. And Astor was reminded again to be wary of King.

But *dear Sir*, oh, the affection in those words. Astor was on cloud nine. "I'd be quite obliged, if it's not too much of an inconvenience for either of you!"

He swept along after King, far more eager now to see the rest.

King

The rest was mostly more of the same-- more rooms of various sizes and various uses. The only real standouts would be the library-- full of all manner of magical tomes-- and, of course, the kitchen. Large and gorgeous and filled with appliances galore, it put five star restaurants to shame.

King moved through all the locals with efficiency, now as excited as his guest to get to the end. He led Astor down a new hallway, into what appeared to be his own personal wing.

They stopped beside a set of double doors, and King knocked softly-- something he hadn't done anywhere else.

"Oh, Sir, dear? I've brought a guest to see you! A delightful chap, if I do say so myself! Are you decent?" He called. King's hand lifted and a key appeared between his fingers. He pressed it into the lock before getting an answer, the door unlocking with a click.

"What?! Oh yes, fine, I _suppose_, if you MUST." A familiar voice called from beyond the door-- but the tone was off, a bit of static like Alastor's voice normally had.

King swung the door open and pushed through. "Sir, darling, I'd love for you to meet-- me!"

King moved further into the room, letting Astor finally get a glimpse of this universe's Sir Pentious.

Astor

Astor skimmed book titles and examined appliances as quickly as he could as they passed through, throwing out the compliments of an appreciative guest while trying to give away as little as possible about his own (primarily magical) capabilities. All the while thinking of his own modest new den and newly-renovated kitchen on Telly's airship, wondering what they could add on when they'd expanded past a single ship.

His heart hammered in his chest as they approached what clearly seemed to be personal quarters. *Dear, darling,* such familiar beautiful words. He clasped his hands behind his back, the perfect picture of calm and collected, but it was a fight not to start bouncing on the balls of his feet like a child.

The door opened.

His heart stopped, his breath caught, his smile was paralyzed on his face, and his eyes widened in horror.

King

King swept to the side of the tank that held Sir Pentious.

Or, rather, what was left of him.

A cylindrical tank held only a pair of red-pink eyes and brain, connected with various wiring to the base and top of the tank. Set into the black base was a speaker, and sat on a table next to him was a large printer.

"Sir, may I introduce you to a me from an alternate universe! Alastor, my good man, this is Sir Pentious! Royal Engineer and Security Specialist."

The floating eyes turned to focus on Astor, horribly keen and aware. "_Good evening, Alastor, it's a pleasure._" The voice, very much still Sir Pentious's, held the tinny and static-covered quality that Astor's and King's had-- he was speaking through a tiny radio.

Astor

Astor's knees nearly gave out. His coffee and sandwiches burned like battery acid in his throat as he fought to keep them down. Not this. Anything but this.

He shut his eyes tight. He could still see those star ruby red eyes burned into his eyelids. He was going to rip out his alternate's throat with his teeth.

He opened his eyes, shook his head, and laughed lightly. "Oh, pardon me, terribly rude of me to stare—I was expecting a few more eyes! Hah!" He was a professional fucking actor and today he proved it. He bowed to Sir Pentious. "And a pleasure to meet you, too! Quite an impressive fleet you have out there, I'm not sure I've seen a universe with one as large!" He maintained eye contact to keep his gaze away from all the empty space where Sir Pentious should have been but wasn't.

King

"It's fine, I know it can be...." Sir's eyes flicked to King briefly. "A bit shocking for those unprepared."

King's smile stated static, and his eyes narrowed only a fraction, gauging Astor's reaction, though his own was inscrutable.

"The other eyes are....around," Sir continued. "And the fleet is indeed impressive, I made sure of it." If a floating brain could seem smug, Sir definitely was.

"Isn't he charming, dear me?" King leaned his arm against the lid of Sir's tank, and then leaned his cheek against his hand. "And so smart! That printer over there prints out blueprints! He comes up with so many interesting things! Isn't that right, Sir?"

"Yes, your Majesty," Sir answered. His focus turned back to Astor, the floating eyes' pupils shifting. "So, tell me, what's your Hell like? Do you rule like his Majesty?"

Astor

"It certainly can! *Somebody* wanted to make sure I was surprised." He turned to give his alternate a wry, arched-brow look, as if to chide him for the surprise. (He knew full damn well that he would be watched, be judged. He couldn't do anything if it turned out his alternate's abilities included mind reading; but anything short of that, and Alastor intended to make sure his alternate wouldn't pick up a single damn thing.)

"Well, isn't that convenient!" He inspected the printer, grateful for the excuse to turn away from the horror in the tank. "Every genius's greatest wish: a machine that transfers their ideas straight from their mind to the page, no need to write it down!"

He fought not to wince as he turned back around and met Sir Pentious's gaze again. "I'm not a king, but I play a president on stage!" He laughed. "No, no, we're still ruled by Lucifer. Most Hells are. I have no interest in politics—why, you couldn't appoint me to city council without me changing my name and bolting for the next ring down."

King

"No ambition to rule? Interesting. Quite the opposite of dear King here." Sir's eyes turned to look up at King. "Seems you're the outlier, your Majesty, just like I hypothisized."

"Yes, indeed, Sir, it seems you're right once again! Looks like I owe you a new airship." King laughed. The banter came so easily to them both-- even in this state, Sir had lost none of his wit.

"If it's not too much trouble," Sir started, "would you tell me what your own Sir Pentious is like? I've been curious about my own other selves. King gets to have all the fun talking with the lot of them but he's told me a few things. I'd rather hear it first hand, though-- first hand sources _are_ the most reliable, after all."

Astor

Somehow, it was worse that Sir Pentious still sounded like himself. It made the difference so much more jarring between what Alastor heard, and how much was *missing* from what Alastor saw. "It's quite curious, really! Of course, every alternate is an outlier in at least one way—just using myself as an example, I can't think of any other alternates actually pursuing a full-time stage career—but I can't think of any others whose one little difference has so radically changed Hell around them! Most of us are far more mundane in our variations."

The thought of this alternate talking to other Sir Pentiouses... Alastor's stomach twisted. He didn't want his alternate knowing a single damn thing about his own universe's Sir Pentious, but God, this poor trapped creature had to be starved for knowledge of the outside world, if all he got came filtered through a captor who kept him literally locked in his room. "Here's the trouble with talking about alternates: how do you tell somebody what's different before you know enough about them to rule out what's the same? For starters, though... Well, he's a good deal taller than you," a wink, "but, in your favor, his fleet's much smaller. He was a top overlord until he took a tumble, oh, some fifty-odd years back; and ever since then the overlords that filled his power vacuum have taken it in turns to kick him while he's down. Too scared of him to give him a fair chance."

King

"Yes, I'd heard something about that-- that most others had fallen and were having trouble getting themselves back up. I suppose none of the others had their own well..." The eyes shifted between Astor and King. "_Yous_ to help them along. I know that without the both of us, and Rosie for back up, there would've been no way for us to do what we did."

At the mention of Rosie, Sir's eyes seemed to droop a little. "Too bad about her, pity she couldn't be more...loyal." The tone of his voice varied there, a slight warble and a quick flick of the eyes to King, who simply stood there, watching and smiling down at them both.

Astor

What did Alastor say to that? How did he bring up the pattern he was now seeing repeating over and over—versions of himself who'd called versions of Sir Pentious friend, fought alongside him, built him up, only to decide to cut him down? How did he explain that this Radio Demon wasn't the only one who could call a man "darling" and then mercilessly cut him down to size? It wasn't the absence of an Alastor that held a Sir Pentious back—it was the presence of one.

But how did he explain that in a way that wouldn't turn *this* Sir Pentious against him? And wouldn't tip his alternate off to his revulsion? And wouldn't make his alternate curious to get to know more versions of Sir Pentious?

Luckily, another topic had just come up—he could hold off from figuring that one out immediately. "I've been meaning to ask about her, actually. See, in my universe, her ambitions never spread beyond her neighborhood. I've been wondering why she threw in with your little triumvirate. And how she fell out of it." He glanced at his alternate. "Although I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of her during my routine."

King

King glanced between Sir and Astor, and then gave a dramatic sigh. "It's a long story I'm afraid! Quite tragic, really--"

"She came to Alastor and I after we did our first few hits on demon royalty, and wanted to get in on it. We agreed, but once King had the throne, she tried to betray him and take it for her own. King didn't allow that, obviously," Sir said, cutting King off. King crossed his arms, petulantly huffing.

"You took the fun out of it, Sir! Where's the flash!"

Sir, somehow, rolled his eyes. "There's nothing flashy about a knife in the back." Sir's eyes lingered on King, giving him a hard look, until King turned and strode toward a wall, pacing a bit.

"Maybe to you! But her betrayal was quite dramatic to ME!"

"Tough," Sir said.

Astor

It felt like Alastor's stomach rolled along with Sir Pentious's eyes. That was horrible to look at.

He noted all those hard looks and dark glances, and stored his thoughts about them in the back of his mind. "Strange. She's never seemed the type for such petty backstabbing. But then she's never seemed the type to go for the throne, either. Maybe just another little variation between universes." He laughed. "Maybe this whole universe is more ambitious than all the others, wouldn't that be something? Sooner or later you'll have Egg Bois trying to overthrow an overlord."

King

"Ha! As if an Overlord could take down one of my Eggs captaining the airships." A sound akin to a snort came through the little radio at Sir's base.

"Now, back to the other mes--"

"Oh, would you look at the time!" King announced, earning another glare from Sir. "It's getting late, about time for you to rest, don't you think, Sir?"

Sir continued to glare, eyes locked with King's until he finally relented, lowering his gaze. "Yes, your Majesty, you're right. I've had a long day today..."

"Indeed you have!" King turned towards Astor. "Come along, Astor. Let's leave him be now." He gestured toward the door.

Astor

Inmate visiting hours were over, apparently. Alastor could have decked his alternate for cutting Sir Pentious off like that.

But he simply nodded to his alternate. "Of course, of course! I'd hate to overstay my welcome. Pleasure to meet you, Sir Pentious." He clasped his hands lightly behind his back as he turned toward the door.

King

"And you, Alastor." Sir's eyes turned away as King ushered Astor out. He summoned the key again, locking the door behind him.

"How about a drink, dear self? I think I'm in the mood for a nightcap, what about you?"

Astor

"Oh, why not! Is it going to cost me another song?" He laughed.

And then, when they were a safe distance from the door, asked quietly, "Now, forgive me for prying, but I'm simply dying all over again to know—did one of your mutual enemies catch up to him? Or did you just decide you didn't need the rest of him?"

King

King laughed as well, leading Astor to another sitting room-- a different one from where he'd performed.

"Mostly the second! That and it was far too dangerous to leave him as he was! You see, he'd wanted the throne, and well, couldn't have that! But I also couldn't lose that mind of his-- so I preserved that and got rid of the rest!"

Astor

"You know, when you said you were working with him, I'd *wondered* how you'd compromised on the throne." And the answer had been devastating. You wouldn't know that to look at his wry smirk, though. "I should have guessed. I can't stand compromise, either."

King

"Oh indeed! I'm rather all or nothing myself-- as one can see by the state of Heaven." He summoned up a bottle of bourbon and two glasses.

"Do you take it neat or on the rocks?"

Astor

"On the rocks, if you please." It wasn't his habit, but his "habit" was "suicidally raging alcoholism." He certainly wasn't about to drink like that in his alternate's presence. "I'd wondered about that! Particularly, about what's holding this universe together now."

King

King poured two glasses on the rocks, sliding one to Astor. "Oh, I think it's me, now!" He laughed.

Astor

"You *think*?" A raised eyebrow and a surprised laugh. "That's quite a thing to not know for sure!"

King

"Well, God himself wasn't up there, so who knows!" He laughed and shook his head.

Astor

His eyebrows raised higher. "Oh, really! Missing in action! What a pity." He tisked. "I've wondered how God tastes and I'd kind of hoped you'd know! I have to imagine the real deal is better than those sad crackers I used to get on Sundays.

King

"I was wondering much the same! I was understandably disappointed about him being absent as well-- but would you like to know what angels taste like?" He grinned wider and winked.

Astor

His eyes widen. Now this sounds like a forbidden fruit if he's ever heard of one. Don't eat it, Persephone.

Unfortunately, as his murder streak would attest to, he's pretty bad with temptation. "You know, I *would.*"

King

"Well..." King said conspiratorially before launching into a detailed description of the taste of angels.

Astor

And Alastor leaned in to listen, transfixed and fascinated.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, another meeting was taking place.

Shortly after the Alastors had left, Astor's shadow had slid back into the room. Alert to every radio signal that crossed through the room, feeling for any trace of magic, it cautiously slid across the floor.

And then slowly raised up in front of Sir Pentious's jar.

Typically, the shadow wore a mirror of Alastor's smile. Not now. Its face was contorted with all the anguish Alastor hadn't let himself show, its glowing eyes filled with grief as it met Sir Pentious's gaze.

It touched the glass with one insubstantial hand.

King

Sir stared up at the shadow, its face a mask shaped like Tragedy. His speaker let out a little crackle that almost sounded like a huff.

"You're the other one's shadow, aren't you? You don't seem like _his_. I know that one all too well." Sir inspected it, up and down. "Mm, yes, you're certainly not his. Can you speak?"

Astor

As an extension of Alastor, it could summon up music and recordings, but it wouldn't risk that so close to the monarch's listening ears. But Alastor was creative.

A black cloud formed in the air, and in front of it floating red letters, like a real life word bubble: "*In a sense.*" And then, "*Is it safe for you to talk? He won't hear?*"

King

"No, he keeps the door locked with that magical key. He doesn't expect anyone to be able to open it, so he doesn't bother guarding it more than that. I _am_ stuck in the heart of the palace after all. The radio I speak through he _can_ hear technically, but signals are too thick for him to pick out this weak little one, especially if he's distracted."

Sir's stare turned curious. "What is it you want?"

Astor

Alastor would just have to keep him distracted, then, wouldn't he? Fortunately, he was a terrific conversationalist.

"*To help you,*" the shadow said automatically; then shook its head. "*I don't know if I can, but it's what I want. But first to talk without him listening.*"

King

Sir eyed him warily. "Help? From an Alastor? And you think I'd accept, after what was done to me?"

Astor

It shook its head again. "*I think you'd be crazy to. But I can't stand seeing you like this and you need help and I'm the one who can offer it.*"

King

"It's a good thing that I'm desperate as well as crazy then." Sir laughed, the sound nothing near the regular Pentious cackles that Astor was used to.

"What do you want to know?"

Astor

That sound was painful to hear. The shadow hand pressed harder to the glass.

"*How much contact do you get with anyone else? Anything else? Anything at all?*"

King

"Eggs, sometimes, when they get too rowdy and King needs me to reel them back in. Otherwise it's generally just King or his tech advisor, Oleander, whom I have contact. No one else is allowed in here by themselves, they're all escorted by King."

Astor

"*Is that how he commands the eggs? By keeping their boss hostage?*"

King

"Hardly. They follow his orders because that's all they know now. Most of them are newer generation Eggs that never even saw me when I was....whole." He paused and looked away. "The ones he brings to see me are only the captains-- they're usually older, and a few knew me as I was. But they all follow him now."

Astor

"*I'm so sorry.*" For a moment, that's all it can think of to say. "*How long?*"

King

Sir looked back at the shadow, silent for a long moment before he whispered. "Seventy years."

Astor

"*God*"

"*how do you*"

"*how have you*"

The aborted messages fall apart in lines and squiggles. The shadow's fingers silently curl against the glass.

"*You should have the throne. You earned it as much as he did.*"

King

"He promised to help me kill Lucifer. I assumed that meant that I'd be on the throne. I was a fool. I didn't see, even after what he did to Rosie..." He sighed, glancing away.

"Now, I couldn't give a shit about the throne. I just want out..."

Astor

"*Dealmakers can lie without ever saying an untrue word. I know. It's how we collect victims.*" The words were matter-of-fact enough, but the shadow's expression wasn't, continuously twisting in pain and sympathy. Alastor didn't care about all the people he hurt, no—but he cared about this one. "*Was he telling the truth about Rosie? Or is that just the story he prefers the sound of?*"

King

"It's a half truth-- she did betray him, but only after she saw what he'd done to me. And now her shade is enslaved to him, as surely as the rest." He sighed again.

"I'm not the only prisoner, either. There's William, too. King keeps him lower down."

Astor

"*That sounds more like Rosie.*" His own Rosie didn't like Sir Pentious one bit, but he was sure that would be different if he'd been someone she'd fought alongside for over a decade.

"*To be honest, I don't care about him. I've met his alternate. He's annoying. But if you want him out, I'll keep it in mind.*" His sympathy is very selective. "*Why does my alternate keep him here?*"

King

"He can't consume him. He needs there to be a brain to be able to gain anything from consuming other demons or angels. William doesn't have a brain, hence..." The eyes somehow conveyed a shrug.

"I've never met the man myself, but if it's between me and him, I pick me."

Astor

To gain anything. The shadow draws back slightly. "*What does he usually gain? And what does he want from Vox that makes him worth keeping despite the effort?*" He seemed like a pretty worthless specimen to Alastor.

"*If you'd picked him, I would have lied and picked you anyway.*"

King

"Generally, raw magical power, either infernal or divine, depending on whether it's a demon or angel. If they have specialized powers, though, he gains some of that. William has specialized powers that King couldn't replicate or steal, and so he keeps him contained and uses him instead."

Astor

"*So that's how he's gotten so strong. Interesting ability.*" The shadow's face twisted into a grimace. "*What does he have that's so enviable, though? Zipping around through power lines? So what, he can teleport.*"

King

"No, it's the electricity. William is tied to Hell's electricity and King wants to keep that control under his thumb. Just another way he keeps his hold on Hell."

Astor

"*He could do the same thing by putting Hell's main power facilities in the palace. Vox thinks he's far more important than he's ever been—it's his poor fortune if he convinced my alternate of that.*" Zero sympathy.

King

"I'm sure William doesn't think of himself as important. And what's easier, moving all that machinery or simply controlling one person?" Sir sighed.

"It's neither here nor there, really. He can't eat William, and so he keeps him. He wanted to keep my mind, so he kept that-- and ate the rest. Did he show you the tuxedo he made from my skin? He *does* like to show it off now and then."

Astor

The shadow's chest expanded in a silent sharp inhale. "*No. He didn't. But I can imagine. In my universe, one of your alternate's enemies caught him and turned his skin into a vest.*" His glowing eyes were burning. "*So I destroyed her.*"

King

Sir stared at the shadow for another long moment, as if weighing something in his mind.

"You loved him, didn't you? Your Pentious. King loved me-- I think that's the real reason he didn't destroy me utterly, no matter what he says about keeping me solely for my inventions."

He quieted again. "Did you hurt yours? Or are you still with him?"

Astor

The shadow nodded twice—to *you loved him* and *you hurt yours*. "*In universe after universe, you and I get close, and then I destroy you and your ambitions for stupid, petty reasons. I've regretted it every second since, and that's what makes me an outlier amongst my alternates.*"

For the first time, the shadow smiled. "*One from another universe loves me now. I'm the luckiest sinner any Hell has ever seen.*" But the smile soon withered. "*The way my alternate talked about you, I hoped this universe might be the same. Until I saw you.*"

King

"It was, once-- when we were conquering together. But his ambition outweighed his love, and if the roles had been reversed, I might've done the same. But it's in the past now. I just want out..."

Astor

"*I'll do my best. I can't promise. There are others I have to keep safe.*" He raised his hand, as if to cup Sir Pentious's absent face. "*But I'll try.*"

King

"That's all I could ever ask." Sir looked down.

Astor

The shadow was still a moment, then leaned forward to quietly press its forehead against the glass container. "*You wanted to know more about your other selves when we left. What do you want to know?*" It was a small comfort, but for now it was all he could offer.

King

"How are they doing? I know I'm a low bar but...I hope better than me."

Astor

"*Most are like mine. They used to be successful overlords, but then they were knocked down and are trying to climb back up. I'm helping one to rebuild, and I think another I know is giving up. A few are still successful—they hold a fleet and all the land and resources needed to maintain it. I haven't met any yet in a position to conquer Hell, but I think they will someday.*"

King

"That's good to hear. The one you're helping, that's the one you're with, yes?"

Astor

The shadow nodded. "*Nobody knows we're allies yet. But I'd do anything for him.*" (Without Alastor's noticing, the handwriting in the floating word bubble had changed slightly—the punctuation and the dots on the i's replaced with little floating hearts.)

King

Sir eyed those hearts. Oh boy. "I can see that."

He sighed again. "So, how are you going to help without getting the wrath of the King on you?"

Astor

"*I don't know yet. I have to find a way to sneak you out without his knowing who took you, and then find somewhere safe for you to stay while you recover. I'll have to talk to my allies first.*" The shadow looked over the tank. "*How does he keep you from regenerating your body?*"

King

"By keeping me in this confined space. This solution also prevents excess growth." The eyes looked at the base.

"The tank itself is detachable. For when King wants to....hold me."

Astor

"*Vile*"

"*How dare he*"

"*After what*"

Red lines slashed through the words, scratching them out; they disappeared and Alastor started over. "*So to regrow you, all we'd have to do is open the tank and switch to a different solution.*"

King

"It would be best to stick me into a much larger tank with a saline solution, to allow me to reform with the best chances of not....getting screwed up."

Astor

"*We can get an inflatable pool if we have to. As long as I'm not having to undo any magic, that part should be easy enough.*"

King

"No, there's no magic keeping me like this. It's much easier to just restrict space."

Astor

"*That's one less thing to worry about.*" The shadow eyed the lid on the tank, as if contemplating ripping it off right now; no, there'd be no hiding who had taken Sir Pentious if Alastor did it now. "*What about his other abilities? I'm guessing he's not telepathic or clairvoyant, if you're not worried about him discovering our plans before I come back. But what should I know about?"

King

"He has both infernal and divine power. A lot of _raw_ power and not a lot of finesse. He's less capable than he believes, and relies too heavily on his radio abilities."

Astor

"*More of a hammer than a scalpel. So don't do any conspiring on air and he won't know about it. A couple of my allies say they think he stalked them invisibly, is that one of his tricks?*"

King

"Not invisibly, but he can mask his presence and is very good at shapshifting. He's not completely unskilled in most things but he's far from perfect. There are ways to spot him, especially with your powers."

Astor

"*One of those allies had my abilities too, and didn't notice anything—but he didn't know to look at the time. Any particular tells we should watch for?*"

King

"There's a feeling to his block. It's not an absence, but an actual blocking, it's.....cold and electric, as far as I know, from what I've heard."

Astor

"*Cold and electric.*" A slow nod. "*What else should we be alert for?*"

King

"His glamours all are still tall." Sir paused, thinking.

"Perhaps you should take one of my eyes with you when you go-- it would be a good way to get in contact."

Astor

"*He mentioned he still had your other eyes. Is he keeping them as trophies somewhere? It might be too risky to steal one. If he notices, he'll know exactly who took it.*" A pause. "*You can still see through them?*"

King

"Yes, I can, and they're not his trophies, they're plastered as....well, security cameras of sorts. They're unhackable and go directly to me, so what better to use, right? There should be one in the city somewhere you can snatch."

Astor

Alastor remembered, so many years ago, asking his own Sir Pentious how many of the mechanical eyes in his machines really worked, and being told *all of them.* "*Yes. I could do that. Can you still move them? To roll or blink or something? As long as they can move at all, we can find a way to communicate with them.*"

King

"Most of them are set in housings, just take the whole housing and it'll keep it steady so I can move it around."

Astor

"*And you can direct me to one he'd never notice is missing? Maybe ones he doesn't know about?*"

King

"Yes, there are a quite a number that he doesn't know of. Some right outside this very palace."

Astor

"*Give me directions to some. I'll take one with me.*"

King

"There's one just outside the gates, on the corner of a building across the way, second story. That should be easy enough to snag."

Astor

"*That close? And you're sure he's never seen it?*"

King

"I'm sure. He doesn't want them close to the palace and if he knew of that one, he would've had it destroyed."

Astor

"*He wants you to keep an eye on his kingdom, but he doesn't want you to know what's happening in the palace right around you, is that it?*"

King

"Yes, that's about it." Another sigh. "If you go into the building, you should be able to reach it from one of the second story windows. The building is empty, no one likes being that close to the palace."

Astor

"*Okay. I'll take it along with me.*" A pause. "*Is there anywhere you'd like to see?*"

King

"Not in particular. Anywhere that's not _this_ Hell."

Astor

"*I can manage that. Will you be able to hear, or can your eyes only see?*" Look he didn't *think* eyeballs ought to be able to hear, but there was magic involved, it never hurt to check.

King

"No, just see, but I've become very good at reading lips." He gave a little chuckle.

Astor

"*I can imagine. But I won't force you to do that. I didn't see my first sound film until I was almost thirty, I know how much easier intertitles make it to follow the plot.*"

King

"HA! I was already in Hell when I saw my first talkie. Anyway, you should get back, there's not much else to go over now."

Sir paused. "...Thank you. For even offering. It's more than I've had in.....a long time."

Astor

"I was running out of excuses to keep talking, anyway.*" A silent sigh. "*I wish I could do more now. I hope I can soon. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve this.*" The shadow pressed both hands and its forehead to the tank, as if it wanted to reach through and wrap a comforting arm around a body that wasn't there. It could, if it decided to. What was a tank to a shadow? If light can pass through glass, then shadows can be cast through it as well.

But that would probably terrify him. To be reached for, without warning, straight through the only shield and shelter he'd had for longer than a lifetime. Alastor wouldn't do that to him. This was to help Sir Pentious, not to gratify himself.

King

"I will...look forward to your return then." He made noise through the speaker like clearing a throat. "Go on then. I've been here seventy years, a little more time won't hurt any."

Astor

"*Soon.*" With that promise, the dark cloud dissipated, and Alastor's shadow melted away as easily as if it had only been an illusion.

King

Meanwhile, back with King, he stood, smiling, from his seat. "Well, that was quite the conversation! And quite the visit! I do hope to have you over again, my good man!"

Astor

"My goodness, wasn't it! You're going to send me home hungry for a half dozen things I'll never get to taste." He shook his head ruefully. "Yes, indeed! You'll have to tell me more of your exploits sometime—I'm afraid before long you'll be offering *me* more entertainment than I ever could you!" Somewhere in the back of his mind, he distantly registered his shadow leaving Sir Pentious's room; but it was a subconscious thought, like recalling something one had done a week ago, or catching a scent that put one on one's guard without remembering which enemy used to wear it. It didn't dim his smile or shake his concentration as his shadow dissipated and reappeared outside to find a misplaced eyeball. "We'll have to arrange something soon! But I won't impose on your hospitality any longer, I'm sure by now you must have some sort of kingly business to attend to."

King

"Oh yes," King said, pulling a pocket watch out of thin air. "I have a few things on the agenda that need doing! We'll see each other again soon!"

He inclined his head again. "I'm sure I don't need to show you the way out!" He laughed.

Astor

"Hah! No, I can see my own way out." He stood, offered a slight incline of his head just short of a full bow, opened a portal out, and stepped back into it. "Until next time!" The portal closed.

Outside, his shadow, clutching its prize in both hands, vanished.

King

"Until next time!" King called back. As the portal closed, he hummed and began to walk down the hall. What a nice visit that had been!

Astor

What a horrible visit that had been.

#akillingspreeinwhite #chat log

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charliesradiodemon · 5 years ago

Text

Arranged Marriage AU (Part 1)

AU where Lucifer arranges Alastor with Charlie to help strengthen the royal family and ensure the safety of the house. It’s just business.

(This was sent from my phone, sorry if the format is messed up. I came up with this idea and I just had to write about it. I’ll probably continue it, we’ll see!)

(EDIT 2/10/2020: So I’ve been rereading old chapters and I’m still not satisfied with them. I’ve decided to edit the chapters on Tumblr so they now line up with the AO3 version. Sorry for making ya’ll wait so long, I just want to get this right ^.^)

It was an average, quiet morning at the Happy Hotel. The fiery red hue of Hell's skies had just lightened and most of the few denizens of the old hotel were still fast asleep.

However Charlie was already up, eager and ready for the day with a smile. Every morning she had to coordinate and prepare for breakfast. Afterward, she'd set up the various events and activities for the tenants to occupy themselves with. Today there would be a group therapy session after breakfast and some physical activities to let the guests blow off some stream.

It was going to be another nice and quiet day for her. At least it was supposed to be.

She heard the front door of the hotel ring from the kitchen so she put on her happiest face and marched out to greet her next potential guest.

However what met her were two of the most powerful wide-grinning demons in Hell.

“Charlotte, how I missed you!” Lucifer cried out and leaned down to give his only daughter the biggest hug she’d ever received from him. The abruptness of it made her whole body tense.

Charlie tentatively returned the hug “D-dad?” as soon as she spoke, Lucifer pulled away but kept his hand on either of Charlie’s shoulders. “Uh what are you doing with Alastor?” She leaned to look around her father to point at Alastor, who stood close by just observing the interaction with his signature grin splayed over his face.

Alastor made frequent visits to the hotel to check up on it whenever he had nothing else to do. That was fairly often, but recently he'd been away and seemingly busy. This was the first time Charlie's seen him in a little over a week. And he showed up with her father nonetheless. With how busy the King of Hell always was, it made Charlie wonder how a mortal soul like Alastor managed to get him away from his duties. Hell, he never even bothered to come visit his own daughter until today.

Lucifer nearly pushed Charlie away to move back to Alastor’s side. “Dear, you are getting older now and I know you have this dream thing… or whatever, but I think it’s time for you to think of the future!” He gestured his cane toward Alastor, who still stood there, saying nothing. “I know he’s a lot younger than you but what is a few centuries or two?” He leaned on his cane and chuckled.

Charlie had no words and only looked back and forth at the two looming figures as if it was her way of processing. In reality her mind was blank. It was too early for this and suddenly Charlie felt like it was a mistake getting up this morning.

Alastor finally chimed in with his chipper radio-backed voice. “What your father is trying to say is that we should get hitched! Tie the knot! Take the plunge! Conjugate-“

“What?!” Charlie’s exclamation startled Lucifer enough to where he nearly fell off his apple-topped cane. Charlie's heart dropped to her gut. Was this really happening? “D-dad you can’t be serious right?” Charlie’s laughed nervously. When she looked back to her father with a concerned smile, he did not look amused in the slightest. He stared her down with a stern glare that she knew all too well. “This is just a jo-…” she stopped and shut her mouth when the elder demon's frown deepened. She looked away from her father and she felt whatever confidence she had melt away in an instance.

It was really happening. She feared this day would come, but not so soon! Charlie knew that one day her parents could possibly urge her into an emergency marriage at any point in her life. With their warning, they loosely promised her the freedom to live as she wished as long as she would answer to her duty when they needed her to. But this was over a century ago. And as a young, eager and very naive young demoness, Charlie happily accepted. They even gave her time to think it over, but she was young and stupid- something neither Lilith or Lucifer understood.

Alastor’s laugh track pulled Charlie’s attention back to him. “My dear this is certainly not a joke. I’m afraid I’m deathly serious,” Alastor’s impossibly wide smile widened even further and it sent chills down Charlie’s spine. How could he be so calm and nonchalant about this? He was entering a role far beyond his station as a mortal soul. Alastor was always impulsive and acted on anything he thought could entertain him; he could be making a huge mistake.

“Al, why are you doing this? I know you have no interest in me, you don’t even give a damn about me!” She shot an accusatory finger toward him which, to Charlie’s surprise worked well enough to make him back off with an amused smile. Charlie knew her father would disapprove of this behavior but she didn’t care. But she dared not look at her father. If she even glanced at him, she’d lose this momentum.

Alastor only seemed more intrigued and amused at the situation. They'd known each other for six months and despite his intimidating nature, Charlie warmed up to him fairly quickly. It was always interesting how confident Charlie could be around him when no one else could. If he were honest to himself, Alastor could say that he'd warmed up to the unusually warm demon princess. She was one of the few that he could bear to be around for longer than five minutes despite her raging naivety and cheerful nature. Charlie awoke something unusual within him and he wanted to explore this pleasant feeling he would always have around her even further. It was as if Lucifer answered his prayers when the King of Hell himself showed up to his front door with a proposition.

“On the contrary dear Charlie, you do catch my interest in a way. I just think this arrangement can better solidify our partnership into something more permanent,” he bent close to whisper in her ear. “Your father proposed this arrangement and I think it’s an excellent idea. I believe the both of us will benefit from this.” He straightened his back and the pair turned their gazes to Lucifer who even seemed to be a tad nervous himself with both eyes on him.

Charlie sighed. 'This must be important then if dad's this spooked...' Her father was the most feared demon in Hell. He'd ruled Hell for over countless millennia and over those millennia he'd come across many bumps in the road. Whatever was happening now, it was important for Charlie to marry Alastor.

Charlie turned her gaze back to the taller demon and caught his attention again by stretching up closer to his ear. “What are you scheming?” She hissed through her teeth so only Alastor could hear.

The taller demon’s smile didn’t waver. In fact, he chuckled with an accompanying audience laughing with him. He reached down to grasp her hand and held it up between them. This was a secret he couldn't disclose, no matter how much he liked Charlie. He wanted to figure out the secret to his odd notions around her all by himself. “Nothing! Like I said, your father proposed this. My guess is that he wants to prevent me from harming you and your family,” he said nonchalantly. Charlie shivered at the ease of his words. It was as if the man had indeed considered it at one point. “He’s quite the businessman. Offering his daughter in exchange for peace!” he belted a strong chortle “Oh… how wonderful. I couldn’t help but accept. It was certainly a wild turn of events even I couldn’t have anticipated!” His wide smile grew in size and Charlie felt his tight grip tighten.

He mixed in a bit of truth to his lie. He truly didn't know exactly why Lucifer came to him asking to be his son-in-law nor did he ever foresee this wild turn of events.

She tugged a couple of times before slipping from his grasp and took a step back. “Right… Al you know this is a big deal right? And I’m not exactly single either you know!” Charlie explained with a strained smile and a nervous chuckle. “Do you really want to marry me because you’re bored?”

“Yes!” He immediately answered. His face lit up like a child in a candy store. “It’s nothing I could have imagined! It’s nothing anyone could have imagined! Who would have ever thought that I would become part of the royal family of Hell! Hahaha! We haven’t even announced the news to the denizens of Hell yet and I’m already simply elated!” He clasped his hands together as the sound of the laugh track came and went once more. He continued on a tangent of something when Charlie began tuning him out.

The young demon heiress leaned over to look at her father’s reaction to all of this. His apparent nervousness seemed to dissipate, but he still held onto the apple atop his cane tightly. He shot her a look of expectancy and nodded his head at her.

'I know...' Charlie internally sighed.

Charlie crossed her arms and sighed warily. It was still early and yet she already felt drained. Too many thoughts spun in her head and she didn’t know how to feel. Devastated? Angry? Sad? All of the above maybe? It didn’t matter. She knew this day was going to come, but she didn't know that it was going to be so soon- or with a mortal soul like Alastor. Though she guessed it could have been worse. She could be engaged to Harold Von Eldritch, her absolutely abhorrent ex-boyfriend in a political marriage.

It was strange how the engagement didn't feel so heavy. Charlie almost felt like laughing it off. Maybe it was because of the ridiculousness of the situation? Her father and her business partner walked into her hotel and imposed a marriage on her. That was pretty crazy already. Or maybe it was because she was engaged to one of the most powerful demons in Hell and he was marrying her all because he was bored.

Part 2 HERE

#charlastor #charlie x alastor #alastor x charlie #charlastor fic #arranged marriage au #sorry i havent written a single fic in SO LONG

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the-socially-awkward-cat · 4 years ago

Text

Fallen Angel (Ch. 1/30)

Rating:Teen And Up Audiences Ships: Radiodust and several minor ships.

Summary: No one expected Angel Dust to return to Hell mere months after his ascension into Heaven.

But at least he gets to reunite with his old friends at the Happy Hotel, his real home. Including the Radio Demon, with whom he'd left off on a budding friendship, and the embarrassing crush he should've never confessed.

An exercise in roleplaying brought to you by Nekokolove (concept) and ornithia (editor)

Chapter 1: The fall

Cast:

ornithia - Alastor, Charlie Magne Nekokolove - Angel Dust, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty

Angel Dust ascending to Heaven was something no one saw it coming, much less himself. His last days at the Hotel were peaceful and even a bit melancholic.

He'd actually had the guts to tell Alastor he had romantic feelings for him, just to be left without a direct answer. So he took that as a 'no' and chose to respect the man that obviously felt uncomfortable.

His body burned and his vision filled with light. Angel closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was in front of dozens of celestial creatures.

All seemed like a feverish dream. And it lasted very briefly, too. (Weeks? A couple of months?) He ended up being kicked back down to Hell; those angels seemed pretty pleased to do it, really.

He hit the ground hard, making an enormous crack. After composing himself a bit, he walked to the only place he could think about. Almost no one saw him really, how fitting.

"Why, that was hardly necessary, wasn't it!"

With a heavy sigh, the Radio Demon came to rest against a sturdy set of doors, bodily closing them shut in his wake - really, in the linen closet, of all places? It was hardly sanitary! Certainly, it had been the right call to make an 'example' of the culprit, lest the rest of the hotel get any "funny" ideas about the conditions concerning their stay here. Still ...

"..."

A puddle of red began to ooze from behind the closed doors. Looking down at it, Alastor pushed himself off the wooden frame at last, painting cervine-tracks across the carpet with each step he took. Paying no mind to the crimson tell-tale trail, he withdrew a microphone stand from the nearest set of shadows instead, tapping it twice to bring it to life.

:: Niffty, darling, have I got a job just for y -::

And that's when he felt it. The "news" hit him like ... well, radio waves, what else? Rushing through the conduit of his staff and into his very core, he felt awareness spread from the top of his antlers to the very tips of his hooves.

::- ou. Excuse me - is Husker with you, by any chance? It appears we have a "guest" outside. Have him see to it that he is made most welcome. The bar can wait for him after. ::

He wasn't ready for this. Briskly, he made his way towards the lounge, to see, if nothing else.

The spider wasn't sure how he survived the fall as well as he did, and managed to walk all the way to the hotel; it was probably his new angelic strength. His eyes felt so heavy he almost didn't see who opened the door.

"Hello, guess who's back?" he mumbled and his legs stopped working, collapsing him onto the person that opened the door.

"What the fuck?!" Husk said, barely catching Angel’s unconscious body. "Princess! Uh, someone! ... You are not gonna believe this!" He yelled, trying to bring Angel inside.

Vaggie reached the hall and her mouth actually hung open at the sight of Angel Dust.

"Vaggie? What's going on-oh, hey Al!"

Spawn of Lucifer, this was not the time! Alastor had nearly made it to his destination when he nearly collided with the heiress of Hell herself.

"Charlie!"

Stumbling in his tracks, he skid to a stop before the princess, impatiently fixing her with a manic grin. "Do you mind???"

"Al? What's going on? What's with everyone and- ohmygosh! "

Ah, there it was. Her demeanor changed the second she peeked around the corner, spotting what he knew lay just out of view. Just as swiftly as he'd come, she was gone, though still audible:

"Angel? Is that you! Oh, Angel!" -

Feeling all of his momentum drain, Alastor now hovered near the wall, unable to bring himself to take that final step. He continued listening to the others, instead:

"We missed you so much, what happened? We thought it was the last time we'd see you again, right Vaggie? And then, and th-then .... w-w-wahh! "

Oh, Charlie, ever-loving, ever-caring Charlie, who wore her heart on her sleeve like a badge of honor. She'd broken into hysterics again, and was undoubtedly clinging to someone in the midst of it. He pressed a hand over his mouth, feeling how his expression grew lax with reluctant emotion.

"I-I'm just so proud of you! We all were, even-"

One leg stepped out hesitantly from the hall, while the other bounced on its heel. Whether it was eagerness to spring forth or pull back, Alastor had yet to decide.

Damn this deer body.

"Hi, girls" Angel said weakly.

"Here, put him here. How is this even possible? Hush honey, he is gonna be fine." Vaggie helped to put Angel on the big couch of the hall, and smoothed over her girlfriend's state. She couldn't believe the spider demon was here again.

"I guess they didn't like me," Angel mustered, "I tried, I really tried. But I guess I gave up at some point. I'm sorry Charlie". He felt his body adjusting, and his wounds slowly healing.

"N-No, don't be! You were wonderful! "

Finding comfort in the arms of her girlfriend, Charlie took a moment to collect her emotions before pulling away reluctantly - she was a princess, darn it! And here was a subject, no - a client, in crisis and in need! And she was going to do her best to help him, one way or another:

"Believe me, I've heard stories from Dad. About Heaven and how beautiful and bright and gorgeous ... but the staff? Pfft!"

She put on a silly and poor imitation of the one and only Ruler of Hell:

"'Why, those amateurs just don't know a good thing when they see it!'"

Read the rest here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511166/chapters/64613485

#Hazbin Hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #radiodust #alastor #angel dust

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slytherinknowitall · 4 years ago

Text

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 2: Doubt

(Click here for chapter 1!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Less than ten minutes later, there was a timid knock at her door, and Hermione would have been lying if she had said that that sound did not make her heart skip a beat.

Putting aside the book she’d been absentmindedly flicking through, she walked to the door with a rather stiff and unsteady gait before pulling it open to reveal the familiar figure of the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape,” she whispered breathlessly, trying hard to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. “Um, please, come in.”

Stepping aside, she watched as the man hesitantly took one cautious step into the crammed room; and the unusual sight of his visible wariness made her mentally smack her own forehead.

Of course. He can’t see!

“Here, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out her hand without a moment’s thought. When she touched his forearm, he drew a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, sir.”

Snape did not say anything in response. For an agonizingly long time, they just stood like that in the doorway of her bedroom, her hand on his arm, the awkwardness in the air virtually palpable. It was only when there was suddenly the sound of commotion coming from downstairs that Hermione summoned up the nerve to pull him inside, locking the door behind them. Getting out her wand, she applied a silencing charm as well as some protective wards for good measure.

Better safe than sorry. It certainly wouldn’t do any good to have someone just barge in.

Turning back around to face him, she tentatively grabbed his elbow and guided him towards her bed. She could not help but silently cringe as she saw him there, seated on her tiny twin-size bed, thinking about what might be happening soon in that very spot. But alas, her small bedroom, which she had moved into a mere two months earlier, did not offer any other sitting accommodations. And so, though her heart was trembling so very terribly, she went and sat next to him.

For a while, neither one of them spoke. Kneading her fingers, the young woman struggled to ignore how uncomfortably close she presently was to her former teacher as she stared out the window overlooking the deserted street outside. Looking back, she could not have said with certainty whether it had only been a few minutes or several hours, but by the time the streetlights came on, she finally plucked up the courage to say, “I’m glad that you decided to come here so that we can talk in private.”

“I did not have much of a choice,” Snape admitted huskily. “Alastor practically pushed me upstairs while Albus tried to contain everyone else in the kitchen.”

“They’re still not very thrilled about this, aren’t they?”

He gave an affirmative grunt. “Most of them were ready to jump at my throat and kill me with their bare hands right there and then.”

“Oh …” Hermione had to swallow hard. “I’m sorry. They really ought not to treat you like that.”

“I don’t blame them. I truly have half a mind to turn my own wand on myself.”

A troubled frown creased Hermione’s forehead. There was an obvious hint of blatant self-hatred dripping from his words, and she did not like that. She did not like that one bit.

But before she even had the chance to respond, he continued, “I will be honest with you … I do not even know what to say to you right now.”

Vaguely tracing the diamond pattern of the quilt they were sitting on with one finger, she tried her best to sound nonchalant as she mumbled, “Well, why don’t you simply tell me whether or not you accept my offer.”

“Miss Granger, I –”

“Would you mind if we used first names?” she interrupted him. “Just for today. It’s just that formalities would make this whole thing even weirder than it already is.”

She saw him hesitate for a second.

“All right … Hermione,” he ultimately conceded, and it was so weird to hear him properly address her by her given name for the very first time – though she had to admit that it sounded quite nice coming from his lips. Something about that deep voice of his made her stomach clench up into knots. “As much as I appreciate it, I obviously cannot accept your proposal.”

“Why not?”

“Even forgetting the fact that you were my student for seven years and that I am a lot older than you, I could never in good faith make you endure such a thing. This, this curse,” he spat out the word with disgust. “Is a lot more powerful than you could ever even imagine. It would strip me of all control and force me to do unspeakable things to you that could very well destroy your sanity.”

He turned away from her in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his facial expression which was filled with nothing but self-loathing. “Even now, I can feel the dark magic coursing through my veins, tugging at my mind. It senses your presence. I can hear it whisper to me, bidding me to just rip off this stupid blindfold and take you right here. Merely sitting next to you already requires more will power than any time I have had to shield my mind from the Dark Lord.”

The witch’s breathing hitched in her throat. His crude confession made her heart beat so fast that it was almost threatening to break out of her ribcage. Willing herself to take a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay put.

No. No, you can do this. For the Order. For Harry.

“I don’t believe that Professor Dumbledore would have sent you up here if he thought that there was a chance of me being seriously harmed,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “And I also don’t believe that any kind of dark magic would ever be able to entirely overpower your morals and your good heart.”

He snorted with biting laughter. “Then you clearly do not know me well at all. Or him, for that matter. All that old madman cares about is the cause. We are all nothing but mere chess pieces in that little, rigged game of his he likes to play.”

“Don’t say that –”

“But it’s the truth! Don’t you see?” His tone gradually got louder and louder. “Any reasonably sane man in his position would have simply hired an unsuspecting prostitute, slipped her a couple of potions and then sent her back home with an altered memory and a nice, big bag filled to the brim with Galleons, blissfully unaware of any specifics. But not Albus. No, in his mind, raping the Muggle-born third of the Golden Trio is the perfect way to feign loyalty to the enemy and thus securing his plaything’s rank among the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Ha! As distraught as he might have acted, he knew from the beginning that you’d be the one to volunteer. Only you’d be foolish enough to let the greasy git of the dungeons fuck you in an attempt to save his pathetic, miserable life. You and your stupid saviour complex. So please, don’t be so naïve. This is all just a fucking charade to that bloody bedlamite!”

What followed that angry outburst was silence – complete and utter silence. Not even the rustling of the trees outside or the rapid palpitations inside both of their chests seemed to be able to penetrate their noiseless bubble. Hermione could feel her own pulse thumbing in her ears, and her mouth felt almost disgustingly dry. Wordlessly counting to a hundred, she at last opened her eyes and dared to cast a glance at the wizard. He was sitting in a hunched-over position, his face buried in his hands. Never before had she seen him like that, so evidently helpless, so vulnerable. For some reason, it nearly made her feel physically sick to witness him in such a state.

“I understand your apprehension, I really do,” she muttered gently. “I’m not quite keen on having to do this either. But I honestly don’t see any other way out of this mess. Somehow or the other, the curse must be broken … and time is running out.”

“I know,” he croaked out, the words muffled by his hands.

“And for all his faults, Professor Dumbledore is right. We cannot put ourselves before the cause. Especially not during dark times like these.” She could not stop her face from twisting into an anguished grimace. “Besides, I dare say that you are being a bit naïve yourself if you think that tricking a stranger would not weigh heavy on your conscience, too.”

Snape slowly lifted his head a little, allowing his chin to come to a rest on the pressed-together tips of his fingers, which were horribly stained from years of daily brewing.

“I don’t think that you are fully aware of what you are getting yourself into here. This would not be like any of your previous sexual encounters, Hermione. There would be no romance, no pleasure, no satisfaction. It would be hard and fast and downright animalistic.” He squared his shoulders. “And though I have never made it a habit to keep up with my students’ private lives, I do not think that it would be wrong of me to assume that an ever-busy academic like you most likely has little experience with such things.”

Hermione felt the warmth creep into the apples of her cheeks as her whole body stiffened, and that movement did not go unnoticed.

“I mean, you do have some experience, right?”

No answer.

“Oh god, you aren’t still a virgin, are you?” Snape rasped despairingly before letting his head fall back into his hands.

Hermione shifted her weight with unease. “I do not attach any value to my virginity if that is the problem, sir,” she was quick to assure him, glad to know that he could not see how awfully red-faced she was at that very instant. “When you think about it, it’s really nothing but a social construct. Will I be a different person afterwards? No. Will you be dead should I refuse? Most likely. So the decision is easy, really. The only reason why I … why I haven’t done it yet is because such a situation has simply never arisen before.”

“No! No, this is deranged!” he cried out as his entire body seized up and started to shake. “How could I ever live with myself knowing that I took something like that from you?”

She bit her lower lip. “I very much doubt that it would be that much better to wait for my first true love or maybe even just a drunken night out to come around first,” she argued with furrowed brows. “Because even in that case, it would be awkward and fumbling and, in all likelihood, disappointing. With you, now, it would at least serve a bigger purpose. It would be special – in its own absurd way.”

“I can’t,” he whispered in a quivering voice.

Suddenly feeling bold, Hermione grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms towards her, forcing him to face her.

“You don’t have a choice,” she told him in a beseeching yet stern manner. “You are far too valuable to the Order to stupidly risk your life like this.”

Snape opened his mouth as though to say something in response, but then he quickly closed it again. Pulling free from her grasp, he leaned back until his shoulders were touching the wall against which her bed had been pushed. He looked like a picture of misery. His complexion was of a deathly pale colour, his jaw was clenched, and a few beads of sweat could be seen running down his forehead.

“I do not want to do anything against your will,” he insisted weakly.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that if I were you. I –“ She dithered for just a second. Come on, Hermione. Don’t lose him now. “I am rather physically attracted to you.”

His head jerked up in surprise. “You are?”

“Y-yes,” she replied bashfully, all at once feeling dreadfully shy. “I find you quite handsome, actually.”

She was not lying just to make him feel better either. Truth be told, she’d had a slight fascination with him ever since he took over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position during her sixth year, when his passion for the subject really started to shine through – particularly during his more physical demonstrations.

Still, she was glad when he did not ask her to elaborate any further. Watching as he ran a tremulous hand through his jet-black hair, she heard him say, “Surely you are aware of the fact that some men would not take kindly to the fact that you are not chaste anymore?”

“Good!” Hermione huffed exasperatedly. “If they truly measure my worth as a person by who I have given my body to, then I’d rather have them think of me as used goods and leave me alone all together.”

“And what about Weasley?”

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “What about him?”

“He seemed … very much opposed to the idea.”

“Oh, he can sod right off!” she snarled angrily, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want anything from him. I never have.”

Walking the short distance to her nearby dressing table, she pulled open one of its drawers and fished out a black hair tie which she then used to fasten her brown curls into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Checking her appearance in the half-tarnished mirror, she could see the man rub his hands across his thighs in obvious discomfort.

“It could hurt,” he said in what sounded like a last-ditch effort to keep from having to yield himself to his fate.

Turning around, her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“I’m sure that I have experienced worse,” she told him calmly, and for a moment, neither one of them said anything. Hermione sat back down next to him. “But like I said, I don’t think you’d ever be actively out to hurt me. I trust you, you know?”

Even though they were mostly hidden behind the blindfold, she could still see his eyebrows lift in surprise. It was abundantly clear that even the mere notion of someone like her trusting someone like him seemed utterly unfathomable to the dark wizard.

There was another short moment of heavy silence. Then, a deep sigh escaping his lips, he finally asked, “Are you really sure?”

The tone of his voice nearly broke her heart. He was normally such an assertive and stern man, but now he just sounded so defeated. It made for an easy choice.

“Yes.”

(Click here for chapter 3!)

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the-vengeful-demon · 4 years ago

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(Hazbin 1920s Drabble)

Dust and soot clouded my vision as I stepped off the train and into the crowded station. The smell of smoke surpassed that of anything else. The chatter of the passersby was loud and lively, and the sharp sound of the train’s steam whistle pierced my ears. Never had I been in such a noisy place. I hadn’t expected a perfect sight upon arriving in New Orleans. A lot of noise and people was all you could ever expect at a train station. But I had hoped that my arrival would be a little more picturesque. But it was just loud and dirty. Exceedingly so.

I went over to the other end of the station to collect my luggage. Other travelers ran about; boarding, unboarding, waving goodbye, waiting for an arrival. They all formed one mass that was difficult to get through. No one even seemed to notice one another as they made their way through the area. It was completely unlike the station that I had initially boarded at, and I wanted nothing more than to get my bags and leave.

To my relief, my luggage was brought to me quickly and I hurried out though the sea of people. I forced my way past everyone until I walked out into the fresh, open air. The station was a quite a distance away from the center of town, where I intended to stay. But to my relief there were a few motorcars and small carriages waiting outside to whisk people into the city.

“Carriage, cher?” A boisterous man asked, his voice laced with a heavy accent.

“Can you take me to the Hotel New Orleans?”

He gave a slight smile and opened the side door of the coach. “Of course! Just a little into the city center on rue du canal.”

My excitement got the better of me, and I hardly listened to his response. I stepped lightly in, smoothing out my dress as the cabbie threw my luggage into the back. He closed the door and hopped in front of me, giving the horse a gentle tap with the reins. We hurried along the small streets, passing by buildings that grew taller the further we went into the city. People of all kinds were about the town, some dressed in their absolute finest, and others in second-hand rags. Street musicians played their brass for onlookers; the smell of magnolia and tobacco filled the air. I couldn’t help but stop the driver when he notified me of our impending arrival.

“I’ll walk the rest of the way, if you don’t mind.” I wanted to go about the street and be enveloped in its liveliness. To see, and hear, and experience it as closely as possible.

The cabbie’s response carried a worried tone “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thank you, sir. It’s just down the street, right?”

He shook his head and pointed in the direction I was to head in. I paid him his due and rushed excitedly away with a bag in each hand. Never in my life had I seen so many motorcars, or so many people walking down a street. The heat of the sun was upon me now as it began to make its way lower into the sky. But it only seemed to bring more people out into the late afternoon. Back home, everyone would have been starting to head back to their houses after a long day of work in the sun. But it appeared as though Orleans was only starting to wake up at this hour. Couples stepped out of buildings taller than I had ever imagined. Flappers trotted down the street in their heels, only barely caring to cover their knees. Workingmen trudged along the sidewalk in groups, seeking out places to eat and drink during their off time. Children ran past, laughing and screaming all the way. I had never seen a place so full of life and activity. It was everything I had hoped it was. Just the way the advertisements and books depicted it. New Orleans.

I was grinning to myself in a state of blissfulness when a man approached me on the pathway. He was bony and tanned, with an unkept beard and ragged clothes.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you like to purchase some curiosities? Some good luck charms, potions to ward off evil spirits? Or perhaps you’d be interested in this here voodoo doll? Why, with just this doll you can bring about your wrath on your enemies! Just poke it or burn it, and your victim will suffer the same fate. It’s my guarantee!” He continued to speak in a fast and excited manner, erratically waving his products in front of me. It was all so interesting, all these bits and bobs supposedly holding supernatural power. My attention was only dragged away by a man standing closely on the edge of the street. I at first thought that he intended to cross the roadway. But he stalled at every opportunity to do so. Even as he was looking away, I could tell that his focus was upon the salesman and I.

The barker pulled my attention back just as he had finished showing his wares. “What about any of those? Anything catch your eye, missy?”

“Well, um. These are all such nice things, but I don’t have too much money to spend. Not on stuff like this. I just need to get to the Hotel New Orleans, perhaps you could-“

The exuberant man interrupted me before I could get another word out. “But you must want something! I’m just a poor man, trying to sell his genuine goods to folks like yourself.”

At this, the lingering man turned on his heel, his pretense of waiting now completely gone. He stood beside me and placed a hand lightly on my shoulder, staring solely at the shaggy merchant. He was in every way the opposite of the hawker; well-dressed and formal in the way he carried himself. He was tall and lean, with thick dark brown hair and olive skin. His smile was bright and wide, but his eyes had a hint of hostility in them, as did his words.

“Oh dear, don’t listen to this charlatan. When he’s not peddling nonsense, he’s being a dewdropper. Isn’t that right, Sam?”

“Why I-“

The more formal man stood upright quickly, now facing me. “But not to worry! He exclaimed, raising a finger in the air. “I’ll help you to your lodging, my dear. It’s not too far of a walk from here.”

And with that, he stepped aside and motioned me to the other side of the street with his arm outstretched. I took his implication and walked briskly to the opposite side as the hustler began cursing under his breath. I rolled my eyes. A quack, already? The tall man quickly followed but we stopped at the side of the road. I wanted to give my gratitude for being saved from a sham. “Thank you for that, I suppose.”

“No need to.” He put an open hand in front of him in protest. “It’s always a pleasure to expose his little ruses.” His voice was warm and welcoming, and he had a strange accent that I couldn’t place. “The name’s Alastor”. What’s yours, sweetheart?” He bent over somewhat and offered me his hand.

“Lily.” I said timidly, taking it as he shook my arm excitedly.

“Ah, a lovely name! Well, Lily I’m so very glad that you took my offer to help! I would certainly hate to leave a little thing like you alone on the streets.“

I had often heard that cities had more crime than the smaller towns and homesteads that I was used to. But his tone indicated that the problem was more pervasive than I had thought. “Should I really be that worried?”

“Why, yes!” His head spun toward me as he walked, his brown eyes wide behind his thin-rimmed glasses. “There are dangers lurking around every corner here. Swindlers, thieves, gangsters….and worse.”

“Worse?!” Shock was apparent in my expression.

“Yes, dear. Far worse. He looked forward as he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. ”The most a thief can take is your money. But there are people here that want to take more than that.” His ever-present smile faltered for just a moment.

I caught his meaning and looked away, but an anxiety came over me upon hearing his words. Alastor must’ve noticed this, as he immediately raised the back his hand to his forehead in an exaggerated manner, tilting his head back as he did so. “And I can just imagine how terrible I would feel, if you were to fall into the clutches of someone like that!”

I raised an eyebrow at his overacted tone. “And how do I know that you’re not someone like that?”

“You don’t.” He smiled, giving me a sidelong glance, likely eager to see my reaction. I said nothing but slowed my pace, almost coming to a complete stop. Alastor’s smile grew wider, and he let out a short laugh.

“Don’t fret, my dear! I mean you no harm. I just wish to safely escort a newly-arrived visitor. That’s all!”

“That’s very kind of you...but….” I avoided his eyes, trying to make my skepticism less evident.

“Is my behavior suspicious to you?” He raised his eyebrows but kept a slight grin.

My whole life I had learned that nothing was free. Everyone always wanted something in return, from goods to simple gestures. Everything came with a cost. Even back home, with the simplest of courtesies, many people always expected something in return. Food, money, a favor to be asked later. “Well, I’m just not use to people doing nice things for nothing.”

“Oh, but you are offering something in return, dear!”

“I am?” Of course he would want something. But I hardly had anything to give.

“Why, yes! I always enjoy conversing with strangers, especially ones from out of town. They tend to tell the most interesting stories…” Alastor’s voice lowered as spoke those last words, yet he seemed very satisfied with himself.

“I’m afraid I don’t have many stories to tell.” And in all honestly, I didn’t. I came from a relatively isolated area, with lots of farmland and simple people trying to make a living. But that hardly ever lent itself to good stories.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“I’m from a small town. There never seems to be much going on. Sometimes there’s hardly anyone to talk to, and there’s certainly no travelers. Just old folks and animals.”

He perked up even more at my response, as if it was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Well that’ll change while you’re here, sweetheart! I’m sure you’ll have lots of interesting tales to take back home with you.”

I smiled awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. What was there to go back to? I tried to make my case as best as I could. “Oh…I’m-uh…not going back. My hometown has nothing to offer me anymore. Just old-fashioned ways, some rude people, and….well..sad faces.” All of which was true.

A satisfied expression settled on his face. He seemed to delight in my poor and simple background. “Then I’m glad to offer you a welcoming introduction and a friendly smile!” Alastor’s voice was soft and warm, and my faint caution began to withdraw. He was certainly charming. I had never seen anyone smile as much as he did. He was theatrical in his mannerisms and carried himself more confidently than anyone around him. Even walking down the street appeared to be a performance for him, even as no one was looking. Eventually we came upon a grand brick building in the middle of town. It was old and somewhat small compared to the structures that surrounded it, yet it was bustling with activity.

“Ah! Here’s your hotel! You’re only staying here temporarily I presume?” Alastor turned towards me and awaited my response, despite the obvious answer.

I only intended to stay until I found more affordable and stable accommodations. While the hotel was advertised to be on the more luxurious side of things, I knew I couldn’t stay long. My finances would not allow it, and I knew I couldn’t get to use to the lavish atmosphere. I would inevitably have to settle for something less so. “Yes, just until I can find something permanent.”

“Well, I wish you all the best, my dear.” He began to turn away as he spoke, as if he had somewhere important to be. But something stopped him and he glanced back at me, wide-eyed, like he had forgotten something.

“And one more thing! Est-ce que tu parles français?”

Oh, right. They speak French here too, I thought, chastising myself for not remembering such an important detail. Though what he said, I didn’t know. I had rarely ever heard a word of the language. …”I beg your pardon?”

He just grinned, and waved his hand. “Never mind, I’m sure you’ll get along fine either way!” I certainly hope he’s right about that. “Until we meet again, my dear!” And with that he left, strolling down the street at a quick pace. But how could we ever meet again? In such a big city, you could hardly ever meet the same person twice, right?

#yes i did pull that title out of my ass #its a placeholder #this is just a drabble for now #i needed some catharsis #just gonna throw this out there #read if you want #i've never written fiction before so #this is not great #but ehhhhhhhhhhh #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #my fanfic #eeeeeee #don't judge me

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abbyfreemansmind · 5 years ago

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Let’s talk about Hazbin Hotel

So, I finally sat down and watched Hazbin Hotel. I’d heard so much about it and felt the need to launch myself headfirst into having my own opinions about it instead of just listening to other people talking about it. This is gonna be a long post, so I’m gonna put it behind a neat little read more. Please note that this is coming from someone who genuinely enjoys adult humour and edgy humour and themes. I’ve got no problem with something that’s all swearing and raunchy jokes. It just needs to be done right.

Point 1 - The Plot The plot is describes as the Princess of Hell trying to open a new hotel to rehabilitate sinners so they don’t get exterminated during the yearly heavenly extermination to deal with Hell’s overpopulation problems. This plot is quickly undone through a few things that anyone can notice during the first viewing. 1 - Overpopulation? WHAT population? The scenery is most often noticeably devoid of any signs of life, outside of when background characters are called for. The scene where Charlie’s doing her news presentation is the most notable example of background characters. After this scene, we see almost nobody outside of the main cast and those weird little egg things. There are a few throwaway demons but outside of that, the streets are devoid of people. There aren’t even the corpses we had just seen during that opening scene. 2 - Charlie may as well be a total nobody what with all the power being the Princess of Hell holds. Just look at how the other characters treat her. You’d think the Princess of Hell would have some kind of benefit that would sway people towards agreeing with this whole idea. Instead, she gets mocked by just about everyone for reasons I can only guess involve winning her sympathy points from the audience. 3 - At no point does she give any proof that redemption would work. She basically says, “Hey guys! I hate seeing you all die, so I have this idea that has no backing evidence, that may or may not work, to try and get you guys into Heaven! Let me sing a song about it where I insult you all!”

Point 2 - Presentation I applaud the animators. Must’ve been hard, especially for Charlie’s overly fast song that really didn’t need to be nightcored, or literally any time Angel Dust was on-screen. Frame by frame. No rigs. All those stripes. All those colours that blend if you stare at them too hard or squint even slightly while watching. All that unnecessarily constant movement. It’s no wonder the thing took four bloody years to animate. Outside of animation, there are too many unneeded details and not enough needed details. Seriously. 1 - The turf war. We didn’t need this. We didn’t need this at all. If you take out the entire opening to it and the entire actual fight scene here, the episode still flows smoothly and we get the same amount of information and worldbuilding. In a pilot/first episode, you should only give the audience necessary details. Leave them wanting more, yes, but make sure they actually know what they’re getting into from the first episode. Make every scene count. Make it mean something. Don’t just shove every detail you can think of together and call it a day, especially if you don’t actually give the audience much information from it. 2 - Why is Hell overpopulated? Why isn’t Heaven? Why can angels go from Heaven to Hell, but demons can’t go from Hell to Heaven? Why does nobody care about being redeemed if Hell is so overpopulated that Angels annually come down and kill people because of it? Why does everyone treat the Princess of Hell like she’s worthless? Why doesn’t Angel Dust know about Alastor if they got into hell within 10 years of each other? Where is this supposed overpopulation problem? Would redemption even work in the first place? Why should I care about most of these characters (who are mostly complete jerks with no redeeming qualities other than “PROTAGONIST”, especially when two of the fan favourites repeatedly sexually assault other characters and, in one case, is both sexist and racist at one point)? Why are there turf wars? I should not be having to ask these questions. Don’t hold the audience’s hand, but don’t leave every single question you present in the show unanswered. Some of the questions presented make absolute sense to leave unanswered. Why does Alastor want to help with the hotel? Why are characters like Vaggie and Niffty, who do nothing all that bad, in Hell? These are questions that make total sense to leave unanswered for now. 3 - What crime is too terrible to be redeemed for? Charlie seems to think that literally everyone can be redeemed. That means murderers, rapists, abusers, tormentors... Certainly her song holds some kind of key to figuring it out! “Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac” Hmm... Okay... “All of you cretins, sluts and losers, sexual deviants and boozers” Uh... “So, all your cartoon porn addictions, vegan rants, psychic predictions Ancient Roman crucifixions end right here All you monsters, thieves and crazies, cannibals and crying babies" Oh... Also, did she imply that mental illness, alcoholism, drug dependency, plant-based diets/lifestyles, rabies and enjoyment of sex were sins in that song?

Point 3 - Edgy for the sake of edgy Hazbin Hotel tries to be an adult cartoon, but comes off as something a mentally disturbed teenager wrote during their emo/scene phase. 1 - The swearing and sex jokes. Oh boy. I’ve worked with children under the age of 15 who swear and crack sex jokes better than the adults in this show. The swearing and sex jokes are the only reasons this show couldn’t be aired as a Cartoon Network show aimed at edgy teenagers. It’s so poorly done that it in and of itself takes away from the quality of the show itself. Also, we have a character who’s name is an actual sex joke itself. Vaggie, full name Vagatha - a lesbian sex worker, of course. Fun fact for those who don’t know, but all of her previous character drafts had her name as some form of joke on the word vagina. This isn’t an accident, this is blatant and intentional. Also, here’s a pro tip for you! You can make an adult-oriented show without having swearing, slurs and sex jokes taking up a solid third or more of your script. 2 - The... “Representation”. Yes, Hazbin Hotel has LGBT+ characters! Yes, it has biracial and Latina characters! Charlie is bi, Vaggie is a Latina lesbian, Angel Dust is a gay man, Alastor is ace and biracial, Husk is pan, Niffty is Japanese (YIKES). Except none of it actually matters. No, really. Vivziepop was all like, “btw you can ship w/e, idc! also, i rlly like the fanon version of human alastor (who is whiter than marshmallow fluff even though he’s supposed to be half black)! :)” and threw all that out the window because... Who knows at this point. Now, if you look at the connected series, Helluva Boss, you get Moxie and Millie - an extremely obvious and loving couple. In Hazbin Hotel, you get Charlie and Vaggie who you probably couldn’t tell were a couple without somebody telling you that in the first place, what with all the loveydovey-ness going on with them. In fact, the biggest hint we even get is literally one line. “Life ain’t a musical, hun.” But then again, I’d be more apt to believe Charlie and Vaggie are friends, or Vaggie is pining after Charlie. Also, Charlie is a really bad girlfriend! She lets Vaggie get abused by practically the entire cast without so much as a single word in her defense and ignores everything Vaggie says. It came as no surprise when I remembered hearing about how the only reason these two are a couple is because one of the people on the team thought they were during storyboarding and Vivziepop just went with it. Also, fun fact, Vaggie fits both the angry lesbian and fiery Latina stereotypes. Charlie fits the stereotype for the bisexual cheater, what with how she seems to actually like Alastor more than her own bloody girlfriend. Alastor is canonically ace because he’s too full of himself to be with anyone else. Speaking as somebody who’s ace... WHAT?! As much as I don’t like Charlastor, it’s partially more popular than Chaggie because Vivziepop actually made them act like a couple for an entire musical number. Also, he’s annoying. He not only kept telling Vaggie to smile (heck you dude), he also smacked her butt, which is a form of sexual assault, people. This was all played for laughs, along with Vaggie’s (actually very reasonable) anger. Niffty is Japanese. A yellow-skinned demon who’s boy crazy and obsessed with cleaning... Big yikes. Finally, Angel Dust. The kinky gay man porn star/drag queen/drug addict/prostitute who verbally sexually assaulted two guys. Where do I begin. When it came to this guy, Vivziepop must’ve been like, “Imma throw every stereotype for gay men on this guy and call it a character!” If you look a Helluva Boss again, you get Stolas, who verbally sexually assaults Blitzo over the phone and also cheated on his wife with him in the first place, so this isn’t a one-off. Also, he was originally AFAB, so that whole line about “Why are you all women?” is more than a little heinous and in extremely poor taste.

In conclusion, this show is terrible. Everything about it. It needs some serious reworking, because as it stands, it’s really truly not that great of a creation.

tl;dr: Needs a lot of work and “ThEy’Re In HeLl!!1!!one!!!eleven!!!11″ isn’t even remotely an excuse for the genuine problems in it. Remember, at least one actual human being on Earth, not in Hell, wrote this garbage fire. Also, the animators deserve a higher wage than whatever they’re getting to deal with these designs. I shudder just thinking about animating them, with or without a rig.

#hazbin hotel #hazho #hh #vivziepop #helluva boss #longpost #long post

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syntaxeme · 5 years ago

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Giardino Segreto ch. 5

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] | [Next Chapter] Rating: T Chapter summary: As Angel and the Giardinos are coming into their own as a crime family, Alastor is having trouble reading the boss's feelings toward him--that is, whether he has any. Of course, the moment he lets his guard down, an old threat comes back into the picture. Just when things were going so well...

— — –

Venture, it turned out, was as good as her word. Within a month, the hotel was fully functional and attracting guests, in addition to the other more ‘traditional’ fields she and Angel were pursuing—drugs, guns, that sort of thing. As promised, Alastor had leveraged favors, paid bribes, made threats, and generally talked circles around other demons until they had a ‘family’ of a respectable size. Not the most wholesome bunch, maybe, but an effective one nonetheless!

“It’s been a week and a fuckin’ half and Cortez is still draggin’ his feet on this deal,” Angel grumbled from his desk as he looked over the report he’d just been handed. “Venn, we got any other options to get these ACPs shipped? I’m tired of waitin’ on this asshole.”

“I’m sure I could find someone else if you insist,” Venture answered, leaning against the edge of the desk. She had her own, of course, but Alastor wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her sit at it. Too much to do, he supposed. “But the Cortezes could be useful to us. Are you sure you want to burn that bridge so quickly?”

The boss let out a groan and dropped his head back while he thought the matter over. This sort of conversation had become typical of a day’s work, even comfortable. Early on in their operations, the hotel’s third floor had been converted into a sort of administration department, including a spacious joint office from which the two of them oversaw operations. Alastor spent most of his time in this office as well, ready to provide whatever assistance Angel might need of him.

The position of underboss still wasn’t entirely clear to him, but Angel had given him the title, so he accepted it. Well, I wasn’t planning to join the Mob, but why not? It wasn’t as if his legal record before now was entirely spotless. Besides, it gave him some legitimacy and authority when dealing with humans who didn’t understand the real reason it was stupid to challenge him.

“All right, I’ll give him ‘til the end of the week,” Angel decided. “After that, I’m takin’ my merchandise elsewhere. And make sure he knows it.”

“Will do.” And she was off to her desk to make a call.

Angel sat still for a moment, fidgeting with one of his pens and stealing very obvious glances in Alastor’s direction. Cute. Still, he pretended not to notice, remaining where he sat on the sofa against the wall until the boss finally called, “Hey, Al?”

“Hey, Angel.”

The boy smiled and rolled his eyes. “C’mere a minute.” So he did. Mercifully, over the past few weeks, his illness hadn’t gotten any worse—but it was certainly still present and not letting up. Much like Angel’s playful flirting. The boss hopped up from his chair to seat himself on the desk instead, crossing one leg over the other. His new wardrobe really did suit him (no pun intended). When Alastor got close enough, he reached out to slip his fingertips under the demon’s tie and lead him closer still. Whether the fluttering in Alastor’s chest was literal or figurative, it was difficult to say.

“Did you need something?” he asked, doing an admirable job of pretending Angel’s familiarity didn’t affect him. He sometimes got the feeling those efforts backfired, though, as Angel would often flirt harder because he seemed so indifferent, until he finally broke down and turned away or his smile faltered into uncertainty.

“I’m goin’ out with Cherri and a couple of the guys for drinks tonight,” Angel stated, watching closely for Alastor’s reaction.

“I see. Are you asking me to come along and keep an eye on you?” he asked, gently prying Angel’s fingers away from his tie. “Have I been demoted from underboss to bodyguard that quickly? I wasn’t even given a verbal citation.”

“Oh, shut up,” Angel laughed. “I’m asking you to come as you. Full stop.”

That was unexpected. He’d never invited Alastor along on his outings with Cherri—who had become an informant and supplier for the Giardinos—before.

“Are you sure that’s for the best?” Alastor asked. “Call me crazy, but I get the feeling ‘the guys’ aren’t quite as comfortable around me as they are around you. I wouldn’t want to put a damper on your night out.”

“So what’re you sayin’? You’d rather it just be the two of us?” Angel teased.

“I think it’s safe to say most men would prefer your company over mine.” He managed to keep his voice level despite nearing the limits of his tolerance. Much more exposure to that smile on Angel’s face and he was sure to get short of breath soon.

“C’mon, is it because of the Overlord thing? Venn’s going!”

“No I’m not,” Venture interjected without looking up from her work.

“You are if I say you are, Cleopatra,” Angel shot right back. “Hell, you need a night off more than anyone.” Alastor’s policy of ‘I can get you whatever you want’ may have spoiled him a bit. Or maybe it was the power that came with being boss. Yet she still seemed amused by his pushy attitude and smiled regardless.

“What the don says goes,” she conceded with a shrug.

“Exactly. So are you onboard or what?” he asked Alastor, raising his eyebrows. Realistically, Alastor wasn’t likely to enjoy the outing, especially when Angel’s attention would probably be elsewhere. He didn’t often say no to any request the boss— “Alastor.” When the boy got to his feet, it left just inches between them. Crossing his arms, leaning a little closer with the slightest curve on his lips belying his innocent tone, he purred, “Tell me you’re gonna go.”

Despite Alastor’s efforts to hide it, it was a fact that he couldn’t stand against Angel’s charm indefinitely. And, foolishly, he had allowed Angel to pick up on that fact. It wasn’t that he disliked the persuasion. It was gratifying to know that his presence was something the boss was willing to push for. But he would’ve much preferred if agreeing were a choice on his part. Instead, his illness flared up again, tension and pain making it that much harder to argue.

Turning away, unable to handle the hopeful look in those big brown eyes, he forced out, “Whatever you want, Angel.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the boy said with a grin. “Eclipse Lounge. Eight o’clock. Better get there on time if you want a seat next to me.” With a last satisfied smirk, he left the room, snatching his hat off the desk as he went. Alastor remained where he stood and watched him go, waiting for his symptoms to subside.

It was becoming more and more difficult, if not impossible, to tell whether all the flirtation and teasing Angel showered on him was just a method of manipulating him or…something else. After all, it was simply a part of Angel’s personality to make suggestive comments and use his looks to his advantage. That was the reason Alastor tried so hard to respond to it neutrally; if he were to take it too seriously and answer with his honest thoughts on the matter, it might easily put Angel off or scare him away.

“Hmmm~, you two are quite a pair,” Venture mused from where she stood in the far corner of the room.

“There are two of us, so yes, technically.”

“You know your one-liners get a little less snappy when you’re distracted?” She sauntered her way to his side and re-aligned the tie that Angel had skewed. “I’m sure if you told him how you feel about sex, he’d tone down the flirting tout de suite.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me on the subject, so I have no reason to discuss it with him.” Observing Venture cautiously, he noted, “You two seem to be getting along well. Has he said something to you?”

“Oh no, I’m not here to play Mafia Matchmaker,” she said, raising both hands as she stepped back to seat herself in the boss’s chair and give it a spin. “But I will say you’re taking this much more seriously than usual. Why, I’ve never seen you so serious, in fact.”

“My friend, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean. Levity is my middle name.”

“Is that so?” Leaning back in the chair, she crossed her ankles on the desk in front of her and watched his reaction. As if something in his posture or expression were proving her point, she continued curiously, “See? Even this. It’s bothering you. It’s almost as if you really think of that boy as your superior, but I’m sure I know you better than that.” The way she looked at him said she wasn’t sure at all.

“Do you know what your problem is, Venture?” He bent at the waist to be at eye-level with her and said cheerfully, “You think too much. You really should learn to take a step back, smell the roses—you are working in a garden these days, after all.”

“Careful what you wish for. Snakes and gardens, historically, don’t mix well.”

“And if anyone under this roof were concerned with salvation, that might just be an issue. As it is, you fit into our merry band of misfits quite nicely—so stop trying so hard to maintain your distance. We both know it won’t last forever.”

“Hm.” Her expression remained placid for the most part, but there was a slight furrow in her brow. All things considered, Venture was the last demon on Earth who had any right to judge Alastor’s investment in Angel. And she must have realized it as well. With an exaggeratedly nonchalant shrug, she sat up properly and started organizing the many file folders that cluttered the boss’s desk. “Well? You heard the man. Don’t be late.”

— — —

As bidden, Alastor showed up at the Eclipse Lounge at 7:54. The room was softly lit, low-ceilinged, with a light haze of cigar smoke and a low murmur of chatter from its guests. The word ‘intimate’ came to mind. Fitting for a place where crime lords often gathered and all sorts of illicit deals were made. In the center of the room was a bar forming a continuous ring, so one could approach it from any side. And on his left, seated in the very center of a circular, leather-upholstered booth, was Angel. Spotting him, the boy grinned and waved him over, so he took the place where he felt he belonged: right at Angel’s side.

“I knew you were gonna be the first one here.” The boss looked as smug as ever, fully relaxed in his seat and sipping a John Collins. (Well, how could Alastor not know his go-to cocktail of choice?)

“How’s that?”

“Cuz of what I said about sitting by me. I know you don’t like lettin’ me outta your sight. Maybe you think I’m gonna get fucked up again like that night with Cherri. Am I right?”

“To think that I want to keep an eye on you? Absolutely.”

“Besides,” Angel added casually, “I told everybody else eight-fifteen.”

“So you were the one who wanted it to be just the two of us.” Something about that knowledge was immensely satisfying. “Why, Angel, I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get a big head about it. I just wanted us to have a minute outside the office. Been tryin’ to make it happen for a week now and kept chickenin’ out, so I figured it’d be easier if it was a group thing.” The boy stirred his drink slowly without looking at Alastor. Interesting that he would admit to a strategy like this so openly. Doubly interesting that he would bother making such plans in the first place.

“You already know you have my attention whenever you want it,” Alastor pointed out. “You could have just asked.”

“I guess. It’s a lot easier givin’ orders than makin’ requests, though. Anyway, that’s what we’re here for. That’s what all this”—he gestured to the room—“was about. Me askin’ for your attention.”

With the way Angel was watching him, so thoughtful, so intent, Alastor’s mouth went dry all of a sudden. There was nothing playful or teasing in the boy’s tone. For once, it didn’t come with a wink and a smirk. Instead, he was just waiting, as if he’d expected Alastor might need a moment to consider.

“What sort of attention,” the demon managed, “exactly?”

“Hm. Ask me again once we get back to the hotel.”

All signs were pointing in a very positive direction, but Alastor still tried to fight the surge of excitement and hope that rushed through him. “Angel—”

“Wow, it’s a fuckin’ snoozefest in here.” Cherri had appeared and now scooted into the booth on Angel’s other side, speaking a bit louder than necessary. As usual. “Who picked this dump, anyway? I bet it was you, old man.” She jerked her chin at Alastor.

“Hey, c’mon, it ain’t that bad,” Angel said, nudging her with his elbow. “Besides, once you get a couple drinks in ya, you won’t even notice anymore.”

And so their few minutes of alone time were brushed aside to be replaced with ‘family bonding activities.’ As Angel had said, a few Giardino capos showed up soon after Cherri, and as Alastor had predicted, they seemed a bit uneasy with his presence. But after a round and a half of drinks, they relaxed enough to chat comfortably with the boss, which was nice to see. Venture waltzed in a little after 9 o’clock, and a somewhat tipsy Angel berated her for being late while she waved him off and told him to be happy she’d come at all.

Alastor wasn’t much of a drinker himself and so sat sipping sparkling water while the others had their fun. Angel, he noticed, seemed to be pacing himself intentionally—but he was still drunk enough to giggle excessively at his capos’ jokes. He didn’t go any further than that in terms of flirting, not with them or with Alastor. He did, however, consistently toy with Alastor’s hand under the table, fingertips tracing his knuckles and down the lines of his fingers, sneaking up to brush against his wrist, and generally making it very difficult to focus on conversation. He couldn’t imagine a better distraction.

The outing wasn’t as bad as expected, Alastor supposed. He himself had always had difficulty forming attachments to those around him or close interpersonal relationships, but there was a certain sense of camaraderie among the rest of the group, which was positive. Familiarity could translate to loyalty, and when dealing with demons, any extra measure to assure loyalty should be taken. More than anything, it was nice to see Angel comfortable and confident, assured of himself as he should always—

A sharp baritone rang out across the room: “Antonia?”

Merde.

#RadioDust #Giardino Segreto #Hazbin Angel Dust #Hazbin Alastor #Angel Dust x Alastor #Alastor x Angel Dust #hopefully it'll show up in the tag this time.....

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