#I'll leave that as simple question for thee

[valleymyristica]

Okay, I have so many questions I could explode. How much does our beloved fairy family miss Timmy?

Hihihi, glad to have so many questions spreading in your head

Makes me happy to hear, Glad the story is taking over your mind, like a cordyceps Hahaha

As for your question,

They all miss him dearly, especially Peri, he may have been young, but that doesn't change the fact that he missed his brother so. His brother is part of the reason he wanted to become a fairy godparent. It's the family business after all.

He wants to make other kids happy just like Timmy. Every kid deserves a smile! Every kid deserves to be happy! Peri wants to help! Timmy was always so happy with him around, so, obviously, he's good with kids. He got this!

For Cosmo and Wanda, it was a little more like loosing a dog, they knew he couldn't stay with them forever, they knew that time was limited, and they had accepted that part.

It still hurt though. It had hurt so much, it had been so much worse than any other godchild. Timmy was pretty much their adopted son. Of course they still miss him.

They cherish every memory they made with Timmy

They'll never forget him, but in a way, they're also happy. Timmy deserves a happy fulfilling life. He deserves so much. That's all they truly want for him, him being happy. That's all they've ever wanted for him. In a way, they hope they were able to give that too him.

[scenteddelusion5]

can you write a zestial x reader where the reader is an angel and they have a secret relationship but the seraphim found out and b an ned her from heaven

A Daring Creature -Part 1

Zestial x angel fem reader

Note: AHHH!!! I LOVE this!! Also why don't we have yellow text colours! I also had to take a LOT of liberties writing Zestial because we don't know much about him.

Warning: inacurate middle English

Word count: 1880

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Zestial was more than 400 years old, he lost the real count a LONG time ago. What he would never lose count of was how long he'd known her. To be fair it wasn't all THAT long ago, only 42 years ago, but he swore to himself he'd never forget that day.

He was hiding out in his mansion on his territory during extermination day when he heard a loud pang outside. Something must've hit the ground very hard, if it was a sinner they would probably already be dead by this point and if it was an exterminator, he didn't want to cross paths with them. So instead he hid deeper, in the basement of his mansion.

The day went on without a hitch and Zestial could leave his manor again to check what happened. While he was exploring his garden, he found a strange creature had crashed into the path, having destroyed the beautiful tiles. She had giant white wings and a yellow halo above her head. small wounds and bruises adorned her body with golden blood flowing out of them, they were, however, healing quickly. She wasn't dead.

Was this angel an exterminator? No, she didn't wear their uniform nor did she hold a black hallow like her military sisters, then why was she here. Zestial had many questions, but first he had to decide. Was it worth bringing in this angel to gain their favour even though she could become a threat later on?

She didn't seem to have any angelic weapons on her, she wouldn't be able to kill him... Zestial decided to bring her in and laid her down on a bed in one of his guest rooms. He designated one of his demon contracts to take care of her and warn him when she wakes up.

Y/n woke up with a headache, the last thing she remembered was falling face first into the ground and now she was in a bed? How did she get here. She slowly sat up, looking around the room, it was decorated with red, black and greenish yellow decor. Did this mean she made it to hell? Another look over her eyes landed on a man standing in the corner, he was short, wore a butler-like uniform and had a web in his hair. What she assumed to be a demon, had red skin and black horns.

"H-hello," she spoke but the demon stayed quiet. "Where am I?"

The demon looked at his watch. "Please put on this attire and wait here. I'll be informing master that you're awake." And with that the demon left without answering her question.

On the chair laid a simple black dress, nothing fancy but it also wasn't a rag. She slowly got out of bed, being careful with her headache, and changed out of her very badly damaged angel attire.

Who was this guy's master? The demon who lived there seemed to be very well of and thus powerful. What kind of mess did she get herself in now?

A knock came from the door, "lady, if you're finished changing please come out."

When she walked out, she saw the same demon waiting on her in the hallway.

"Follow me."

Looking around the hallways, the building looked like it was decorated by someone from th 17th century. Besides all the luxury paintings and dressers, what really stood out were the strange spiderweb motives all around the building, from the wallpapers to the candle chandeliers.

They ended up in front of a pair of doors that were at least 3 meters (10 feet) tall. The tops were arched and the handles looked like spiders.

The demon knocked on the giant doors. "She's here, sir."

"Thee can enter!"

The demon didn't react, so Y/n opened the door just enough to walk through. Inside was an office. The wooden walls as well as the furniture had flowery carvings in them, the fabric used for the cushiony parts of the furniture had web patterns in them and the candle light glowed green instead of yellow.

On the armchair behind the desk sat a tall figure, he had four green glowing eyes, a dark black cloak wrapped around his body, spider held the place of where his bowtie was supposed to be and a hat sat upon his head making his already tall figure even taller.

"Please, sitteth down." The man conjured up two cups of thee, one of which he took a sip from. "Now, wherefore is there an angel down here? Thee aren't an exterminator."

"I was just really curious about hell and kind off... Snuck down." Y/n awkwardly looked around the room avoiding eye contact with the demon in front of her. "What is an exterminator?"

Zestial choked on his tea hearing her question. "Does thou not knoweth?"

"No," she answered.

"Alloweth me to proposeth a deal." He got her attention again after she started to search around the room again. "I shall bid thee about the exterminations and hell, in turneth thee bid me in detaileth about how thee did get here." Zestial held out his hand, it became surrounded by glowing webs.

"Uhm sure, but we don't have to do the hand thingy." She laughed it off. "So when I first arrived in heaven three years ago, I started to wonder what hell was like. Nobody could give me a concrete answer, not even the seraphim. I made it my mission to find out what's it like. After two years, I realised a group of angels went down every year..."

"Hey lute!" Y/n ran up to the older angel. "Where were you yesterday?" "Work." "For a whole twenty four hours?" She asked. "Yes," Lute sighed, "what do you want Y/n?" "I was just curious." "Too curious, it's none of your business where and how I work."

"I knew I just had to follow them, so the next time they gathered, I snuck through the gates and jumped after them. On the way down, I had a bit of an accident, my wing got caught on the metal tip of a strange tower and it ripped through me. And that's how I ended up falling into the ground."

"I supposeth I shouldst hold up my own endeth. Every year, the heavens sendeth down an army of exterminators." As Zestial was telling her this Y/n's eyes widened. "Thy sisters cometh down to slaught'r."

"I... I know Lute and the others aren't model angels, but I doubt they would-"

"T's the thruth." Zestial stood up from his desk. "Anon, t's better thee leaveth. I wanteth not beest the targeteth of thy sisters."

He was about to snap his fingers when Y/n yelled, "WAIT!"

He stopped.

"How about another deal? No one of the angels know I'm here and I have a strong alibi. You seem like a powerful demon and I probably wouldn't survive the streets of hell. So, I stay with you for a year, you show me around and I'll give you... Whatever you want...?" Even though she talked a million miles a minute, he still understood her.

"I aught to want?" He considered it for a few seconds. "Dealeth." Zestial held out his hand and the glowing webs were back.

"You haven't said what yet..." But y/n didn't get an answer. "Fine, ONE thing you want."

Zestial nodded his head.

"Deal."

She shook his hand and for a slight second, his whole appearance seemed to change. The man became even taller, spiders crawled around his body and webs covered their intertwined hands. And then it was gone again, like it never happened.

"Edward shall be in chargeth of thy careth. I expecteth thee to never grise foor of these grounds unless thee has't mine own permission to doth so. Thee may taketh thy leave now." He shoed her away.

Y/n walked out of her office finally realising the gravity of the situation. She just gave a DEMON to make her do or get anything he wanted from her without any limits, except that he could only do so once of course. How stupid could she be? At least now she had a safe place to stay and a very intimidating tour guide.

A week went by and Y/n hadn't been able to explore hell at all. She was stuck in the manor, barely even allowed into the garden. At least she grew closer to the demon butler Edward.

At first the man was distant and cold but he slowly opened up to her. His wife and kids had gone to heaven while he was cast down for protecting them. Zestial had offered the safe and comfortable job as his butler and Edward accepted.

She also learned he was a lot more of a joker than he made himself out to be. When Y/n was helping him prepare dinner for only them two, which they decided was going to be pizza, she had tried to spin the dough and toss it in the air. It went horribly wrong, the dough landing on top of her face. Edward laughed so hard he started crying, after a while the man decided to try it too, only to end up in the same predicament.

Zestial was aware the two had grown closer, he didn’t mind, however. It meant that she wouldn’t bother him and go to Edward for everything. What he wasn't aware of was for the fact that Y/n had made it her mission to create fun activities in an otherwise boring mansion.

One day, Zestial was walking down the corridor to go and ask Ed to pick up an important package for him, only to find the strangest display in the hallway.

"This is going to go horribly wrong," the butler stated.

"It'll be fine, loosen up!" She laughed.

Edward sighed, "If you get hurt, I'm not patching up your wounds."

"I'll take that risk."

What Zestial saw was that the angel had tied sponges to her shoes and tried to skate around on the wet and soapy marble floor. He was just about to speak up when she slipped and fell back. Her back hit his waist, he quickly caught her.

"What art thee doing, î̷̟n̷̰͆͜s̴̢͍͒o̷̖͐l̷̟͇̂͠é̷͖n̶̙̫̑t̶̲̘̅͝ angel?" The overlord was glaring at her.

"I'm sorry sir, uh... Zestial sir." Y/n looked down at her soapy boots. "But you haven't showed me around all the fun stuff in hell, so I decided to make the fun!"

"I can't even but now," he explained, "Everything in doth timeth."

"Then I'll keep finding fun things to do."

Zestial sighed. Maybe this angel was more work than she was worth. "Fine, I shall taketh thee out tomorrow morning." He caved. "Doth not maketh me regreth it."

"YES!"

That nights Zestial was pondering about his angel guest while looking for a big robe. She was quite bothersome but then again, he had made the deal to show Y/n around. Although, the manor had been much more livelier in the week she had been there. Almost every day, he would walk through the hallways and hear laughter, which was a stark difference from before. The manor used to be eerily quiet, maybe she wasn't too bad after all.

Part 2

Masterlist/request guidelines

[malusokay]

serious, important, gigantic question i have . how do i start writing poetry? i'm really interested but just can't get myself started, lol. also what're some of ur fav books currently? i'm trying to get more into literature. love ur blog btw!

oh I love this question!! 

I believe becoming a poet begins with being an avid reader. Once you develop a love for reading, writing will come naturally as you start to note simple observations from your daily life or random thoughts that come to mind... As you continue to write, you'll gradually develop a better understanding of words. This will allow you to become more discerning in your writing, carefully selecting words and being mindful of how you structure your sentences to convey emotions and imagery... slowly You'll probably begin to dip into poetry, even if it's terrible at first, it's a necessary stage that everyone goes through (I could write an entire post on why creating bad art is so critical lol). The key is to keep writing. Write. Write. Write. And write. It's strange how addictive writing becomes once you get the hang of it… this year alone, I wrote hundreds of poems!!

So to summarize: Reading -> writing -> Poetry

here are some writers and writings I'd recommend to anyone who wants to get into poetry:

 (I got a bit carried away while writing this list lol…)

T.S. Eliot: The Waste Land, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, Four Quartets

Edgar Allan Poe: The Raven, Annabel Lee, The Tell-Tale Heart

Homer: The Odyssey

Walt Whitman: Leaves of Grass, Song of Myself

Dante Alighieri: The Divine Comedy (includes Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso)

John Milton: Paradise Lost

Geoffrey Chaucer: The Canterbury Tales

Emily Dickinson: Because I could not stop for Death, Hope is the thing with feathers, I’m Nobody! Who are you?

Sylvia Plath: Ariel, Lady Lazarus, Daddy

Maya Angelou: Still I Rise, Phenomenal Woman, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (autobiographical prose)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning: Sonnet 43 (How Do I Love Thee?), Aurora Leigh (a novel in verse)

my personal obsession lies in ancient poetry (Greek, to be specific), though I understand that it may not be everyone's cup of tea. But if you want to know more about that — or have any more literature-related questions in general — please let me know or send me another ask, and I'll be happy to share more!! <3

[wolgerrswraith]

Okay, so. I wrote a thing.

I will now post the thing and leave it here for anyone who wants to look at it.

The Robber Bride

"I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell,

To die upon the hand I love so well."

― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Once, in a certain country, there lived a powerful Lady in a great manor house overlooking the crashing waves of the sea. How exactly she had come by her title was something of a mystery, but her immense wealth and striking beauty were usually enough to silence anyone asking questions about her. A single look from those dark, piercing eyes would quiet any wagging tongue instantly.

Many rumours followed her from her homeland to the manor looking over the waves; vicious, evil rumours about a string of young husbands all dying mysteriously, of wealth obtained through dowries and thievery, and of bloodstained chambers with arcane symbols scratched out on the floor to summon fallen angels to do her bidding.

Whether or not any of these stories were true is not relevant to the story at hand. All you must know is her manor house was only her latest home, and that she had lived in that country for only a year. The people of the nearby village still considered her a newcomer, even though she had long before settled into a weekly routine of visiting the village, and had become friends with several of the merchants there.

In this same village there lived a young man who was called Constant, so named because of his deep and unwavering dedication to whatever task he set his mind to. He was an orphan, and lived in a small room over the pub in town, paying for his bread by working in the fields during the day, and manning the taps for the pub owner by night.

The Great Lady came into the pub four times each month for a drink, speaking little and refusing any company. Those who tried to strike up conversation would be spoken to softly, so no one would overhear, leaving the pub afterwards deeply disturbed by the things she would say to them. They would not repeat her words to anyone, no matter how many times they were asked.

Constant was her favorite server, and she would always request his presence when she came to the pub for her drink, refusing anyone else to serve her. She spoke to him while she dined, going over humorous incidents from the great parties she threw, and salacious gossip about her acquaintances. Constant delighted in the attention she lavished on him, despite the secret tremble of horror deep in his chest.

Somehow, long before it happened, Constant knew that the Great Lady would ask him for his hand, her intentions all too easy for him to guess after those first few visits to the pub.

"I can make you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams," she said to him one particular night, her smile coy. "Rooms after rooms full of gold, chambers of the finest clothes. All of it, yours. All that you must do is say yes."

Now you must know that Constant was no fool: his life was simple, and he had no great joys. But he still had his youth, and his wits, and knew better than to turn his nose up at a chance to better himself. The Great Lady was offering a world he could have only imagined in day dreams, a life spent in luxury and splendor.

She also offered mysteries upon secrets, a house of forbidden knowledge begging to be exposed to the light and looked over carefully. The truth behind the many rumours was hidden in those halls, behind those locked doors, awaiting his arrival.

All he had to do was say,

"Yes."

***

It was a simple wedding, held at the church that very same evening without any delay. The Great Lady had gone to her home long enough to change into something more formal, meeting Constant at the altar in a wondrous scarlet gown of rich silk and glittering gemstones, a long veil hiding her features. She had with her an ancient maid, back bowed from many long years of service, hair the same silver white shade of mirror mercury, to act as witness to the marriage.

The priest had seen many hurried weddings among young people wishing to elope, but never had he seen such an arrangement between a woman of the Great Lady's station and a common pub worker. He opened his mouth to make a comment on the strangeness of the pairing, and of the urgency of the ceremony, but he fell silent at a hard frown from the maid, who seemed to possess more wits than she let on at first.

Constant was to learn three things about his new bride that day during the ceremony: that her given name was Rosamund; that she knew the wedding vows perfectly off by heart; and that she seemed to permanently smell faintly of lilac and rose, the scent clinging to her cloyingly wherever she went.

Her maid's name was Danvers, and she would take no orders except for Rosamund's. Even something so simple as asking for another blanket during their long, chilly evening carriage ride went ignored until Rosamund spoke up on his behalf.

"Now, now, my dear, you shouldn't put Constant out so," she lightly chastised the old servant.

"He is to be the master of the house from here on out. You listen to him as you would me."

"Yes, mistress," Danvers replied flatly, but her gaze never left Constant's face, eyes narrowed and piercing in that deeply lined face. Constant did his best to suppress the shudder that came over him, watching the land outside the window turn desolate and bleak. Rosamund had mentioned that her manor house was far out in the countryside overlooking the waves after their hasty wedding, but he had assumed the landscape would be bright and airy, with beaches of white sand and crushed stone, the waves lapping against the shore rhythmically.

Instead the ground was barren, burned into a rough crust by the unrelenting sun. The few trees Constant could see scattered across the wasteland were withered, blackened into twisted spires that clawed at the air like bony fingers reaching out from the grave. A low fog drifted slowly in from the distant foothills, adding to the bleakness of the view.

Ahead, on a crag perched high above the cold, tossing waves was the manor. Three stories high, made of a dark stone coated in vines, the manor house cast a massive shadow over a brown lawn and dead flower beds, a fountain in the shape of a mermaid sluggishly trickling water into a green basin.

"It needs a lot of work," Rosamund said softly. "A year is really such a short time when you think about it, and I've had too much going on to work on the upkeep."

Constant swallowed thickly, deciding it was best to say nothing: Rosamund was clearly embarrassed over the sorry state of her home, but a certain sort of fallen grandeur remained beneath the intense layers of grime. The lawn and gardens were certainly too much for Danvers to tolerate, but Constant was young, and more than used to outdoor work. The house was to be his, as was his right through marriage to the Great Lady, so at the very least he could get started on the lawn as soon as the weather permitted.

Danvers helped the Great Lady step down from the carriage once it had come to a stop, seeming to let the door close in Constant's face purposefully. He had but one bag with him, containing the scant few personal belongings he had to his name. Constant would not have trusted Danvers with it, regardless, leaving him more than happy to bring it inside the manor himself.

***

Once inside the manor, Constant found himself somewhat shocked by the state of things, of how run down the furnishings really were. Cobwebs coated the once grand chandelier in the main hall, dust laying thick on nearly every surface. The walls were bare plaster, the furniture worn and greatly in need of replacing. The boards creaked and groaned under him like dying things breathing their last.

"I do apologize," Rosamund said in a small voice, like a little girl scolded for breaking her mother's best china, "for the state of things. I do try, you know, but..."

Constant wondered what Danvers was even there for if she didn't clean, but perhaps she was only a ladies maid, and did not have enough skill to keep the house in check. A flimsy excuse, looking back on it much later, but in that moment it made nearly perfect sense to him.

Despite the fact this was to be their wedding night, Rosamund carefully explained that she needed to freshen herself for that evening's dinner in her rooms, and that Danvers would show Constant to his own chambers.

The ancient maid hobbled up stairs coated in grime that creaked and groaned beneath every step she took, leading the way to the manors upper floors. Constant could not help the thrill of horror that bloomed in his chest at the state of decay that lay over everything, at the dust thickly coating the surface of a splintered side table, at the holes worn through the runner on the floor. The boards creaked just as the stairs had, if not louder, announcing every footstep in the silence of the hall.

Danvers wordlessly threw open a door part way down the hall, her impatience clear in her expression, and in the foot tapping against the worn floorboards. Constant slowly took in a breath, telling himself not for the first time that marriage was an adjustment for everyone involved, and that happier times were to come.

Another prickle of unease slid across his mind upon seeing the door, more precisely, upon seeing the lock: the bolt and chain were well oiled, and appeared to work perfectly. Except, traditionally, locks were on the inside of the door, not the outside. They were meant to keep people out, after all.

These were meant to keep someone in.

***

Dinner was a simple affair, held in a great dining room that had once been very grand and was now faded and dusty. The table stretched across the width of the room, but only three chairs were in position around it, grouped together at the end nearest the fireplace. It allowed Constant, Rosamund, and unfortunately Danvers to sit down to eat the evening's meal, which consisted of well roasted lamb in a tasty sauce and a rich vegetable soup. A small fire was slowly dying in the grate, the coals sizzling as heat left them.

"The food really is delicious," Constant said softly, trying to spark a conversation. "I hope you didn't go through all this trouble just for me."

"Never," Danvers replied, with a tight little smile, sipping her soup.

Constant decided it best to ignore the slight, picking up his goblet to drink some of the sweet summer wine within. It was spicy, and oddly comforting after the long day he had had, with the journey to the manor house and their hasty wedding weighing heavily on his mind. His eyes roamed the room, taking in the tattered furniture and ragged wallpaper, the balcony railings above them that were broken in a dozen places, one section dangling like a hanged man just over the table. He could not pretend the house was perfectly liveable in this condition any longer.

"My... my love?" he asked softly, risking the pet name as he spoke, "you said you have only lived here a year, did you not?"

Danvers shot him a look over the rim of her goblet, saying nothing.

Rosamund nodded, setting down her drink and offering a smile. "Yes, a year," she said, preening slightly at his words, clearly pleased. "I require being in the crisp sea air for my health, you see, and this house is so very large. Plenty of space."

"But, surely, someone of such means could have found a home in better shape?" Constant asked bluntly. He knew no other way to phrase it. "There is so much dirt and damage... surely there were other options?"

The smile never left Rosamund's face, but Constant saw her knuckles whiten as her hands gripped the tablecloth, the bones creaking audibly. Danvers remained silent, as always, but a smirk had crept across her lips.

"Yes, well... this one suited my needs like no other. Space, peace and quiet, a view of the ocean. Surely all of that is worth ignoring a little dust and dirt?"

Her tone was bright, bordering on loving, but there was a sharp edge to it, a darkness daring Constant to question her further, to disobey like a petulant child. Danvers sipped her own wine, watching Constant as she slowly cut her meat into smaller bites, blood oozing across the plate. For the first time since dinner had begun, Constant noticed his cut of meat was cooked to perfection, but Danvers and Rosamund were both dining on raw meat, red blood staining the white china.

For reasons he could not quite understand, Constant felt a shiver of unease creep up his spine, as he wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into by accepting the Great Lady's offer for his hand.

***

Danvers did not deem it worth her time to show Constant to his rooms that evening, leaving him to wander in the hopes of finding them on his own. Perhaps unavoidably, he found himself lost in the halls of the house, every turn looking identical to the one before it. Doors were sensibly shut, and each one he tried was locked. The tattered wallpaper was lined with portraits that perhaps once depicted family members or landscapes, but now they showed nothing but pale smudges, time and lack of care coating them in a bed of grime.

"Two turns to the left," Constant murmured to himself, trying to keep track of where he was in the halls. "Or was that two turns to the right?"

Constant began trying doors, hoping one of them would at least lead back to the main hall so he could find his bearings. None of them opened, but one particular door gave him pause: a large stain had soaked deeply into the floorboards just outside it, deep brown in color. Constant frowned, reaching for the knob to see what lay beyond the door.

A hand gripped his arm, sharp nails digging into his flesh. Constant yelped, taking a step back from the door as if burned. His arm stung, pinpricks of pain seared into his skin. Rosamund stood besides him, a look of barely restrained fury in her eyes.

"You are not to try and open this door again," she said, her voice echoing in the stillness of the hall. "Do you understand me? Never again."

"Of course, my love," Constant said softly. "I got lost in the halls trying to find my rooms... I- I do apologize."

The fury smoldered in Rosamund's gaze, but her lips softened into a smile. "I'll see to it we mark the right path for you. Perhaps a new carpet? Then you would never be lost again."

Constant smiled in a way he hoped came off as conciliatory, allowing Rosamund to guide him away from the door and back down the hall to his rooms. She spoke softly to him as they went, apologizing for the confusion and begging Constant forgive her for the misunderstanding.

Constant of course promised her he did, and perhaps he did mean it. But his mind circled back to the mysterious stain by the door, and how it so closely resembled the blood stains soaked deep into the barn floor of his childhood home, left from slaughtering days when the cows and pigs met their maker before the snows came. Those stains never scrubbed out, turning a deep brown as they dried.

***

The next few days passed in relative calm, with Rosamund warming up to Constant more each day, while Danvers became openly hostile towards him. Doors to things like the washroom and the great hall would mysteriously become locked, forcing him to seek out Rosamund to be let back in. At dinner, Rosamund's helping of lamb chops would be cooked to perfection, while his were either overdone with blackened burn spots or undercooked enough to still be oozing blood. His wine would be watered down, and Danvers always found a way to over salt his mashed potatoes.

If Rosamund noticed all of this, she said nothing to the ancient maid, bringing up how much she doted on the woman whenever she was in the room, much to Constant's continued disgust and overwhelming annoyance.

He began to notice other things as the days marched onwards; the scent of thick rot that filled the house; the way his supposed wife would not so much as hold his hand, let alone allow him a kiss; and how a dreadful looking storm was coming, visible far off across the waves, darkening the distant horizon.

"Yes, we often get storms this time of year," Rosamund replied when Constant brought it up to her one morning over breakfast. "They are nothing to worry about, my own. Do not worry yourself over it."

"The house will not fall into the sea, if you're worried about such things," Danvers said primly, sipping her morning coffee. "Solid as a rock, I tell you."

Constant wasn't worried about the house slipping into the sea: he was worried about what might happen to him when the rains started, potentially leaving them all stranded inside the manor.

***

It did not take long for the storm to arrive. The following morning Constant awoke to clashes of thunder, his room lighting up as lightning flickered through the skies. The dull pounding of the rain followed him through the halls as he went downstairs, the great hall dimly lit by flickering candles in rusted holders set about the room. Presumably by Danvers, who as usual did as little as possible when it came to her work in the manor.

Constant opened his mouth to call out for Rosamund, but soft voices coming from a door left carelessly open a crack drew his attention to the side of the hall. It was a door he had never found reason to open before, assuming it led to one of the many disused rooms scattered throughout the manor. It seemed to lead to a study, and someone was inside speaking softly.

As it was fairly easy to assume who was speaking, Constant felt no guilt about moving closer to listen in. Rosamund and Danvers had their little secrets, he knew, and it would be interesting to be involved for once. It still felt like he was an outsider in his own home, despite being Rosamund's husband for almost two months at that point.

Looking back much later, he would wonder how things could have gone if he had kept to his own business and moved on, telling that small voice deep within his thoughts that urged him to disobey unspoken social rules to be silent for once.

Constant edged closer to the door, stepping carefully so as not to make the floorboards creak and expose his presence. He could feel the intense heat wafting through the room from the fireplace, the light flickering, casting strange shadows.

"...a week or less, mistress. We can not wait any longer. You know this."

Danvers, her tone urgent and chiding. A shocking way for a servant to speak to her mistress, but Rosamund merely sighed. Her heavy skirts whispered across the floor as she paced, her shadow waning against the wallpaper like a living thing.

"I know, I know," she said, her shoes clacking on the floorboards smartly. "We can not pretend this was anything but a marriage of need any longer. Sacrifices must be made, we know this. We have done it before."

"The usual methods, mistress?" Danvers asked, unrestrained glee in her tone. "The ax worked so well with the last one. His blood flowed so beautifully."

"No, not this time," Rosamund replied with another sigh. "A quiet death for this one, if you don't mind. Poison his meal this evening, then we shall do what needs to be done with his blood after he passes."

"You shouldn't get so attached to the livestock, mistress," Danvers replied smartly. "But it will be done. The evening meal will be Constant's last."

His breath stilled; his blood turned to ice in his veins, refusing to flow. Rosamund and Danvers were going to kill him, and had killed perhaps countless others before him. Something about blood, and a need for sacrifice.

Footsteps strode quickly across the floor, forcing Constant into motion: he ducked into the faded confines of a tapestry hung in front of a storage alcove, holding his breath against the sudden cough threatening to bubble up in his throat. The heavier, quick footsteps of Rosamund passed by briskly, followed by the plodding, steady step of Danvers. For one horrible moment, the footsteps paused before the tapestry, making Constant's racing heart skip a beat, but they soon moved on.

"The evening meal will be Constant's last," Danvers had said; dinner was in four hours, the precise time Constant had left to live. Unless he did something, something drastic to save himself. The mansion was far too remote to hope for salvation from neighbors, and they would not have believed him even if there were any nearby for him to plead for help.

No, Constant was on his own, and time was running out. He knew three things now, and those three things were; he had a single afternoon to leave the mansion or his life would be ended; that his bride was a two faced snake; that he must, regardless of his fear, find a way inside that locked room with the mysterious stain, and expose the hidden sins of the Great Lady for all to see.

No real pressure, he thought with a slightly hysterical scream of laughter.

***

The halls were disquietingly deserted, leading Constant into an almost false sense of safety. He knew what he had listened in on was not a joke at his expense, as Rosamund and her treacherous maid had not known he had been aware of their little meeting. They were somewhere else in the manor, yes, but that did not mean Constant was safe.

Thankfully, living amid the rowdy patrons of a somewhat seedy pub left him with some talents unworthy of a gentleman, but perfectly adept for his current situation.

One of those unsavory skills was lockpicking, which simply required a strong needle, and some patience. A set of sewing needles were scattered in one of the drawers of the bureau in Constant's room, leaving only his patience as an obstacle between him and the mysteries of the locked, bloody chamber.

He knew whatever lay beyond the door would be both upsetting and enlightening, the truth behind his hasty marriage to Rosamund, and what exactly Danvers had meant when she mentioned "livestock".

Three needles later, the lock finally gave, the door creaking open slowly on its own, as if eager to share the secrets within. A thick stench caused Constant to gag; a horrific mix of fresh copper and rot, rising thickly in the stale air of the sealed chamber. The stain peeking out from under the door proved to be massive, nearly covering the entire floor.

Sightless, sunken eyes gazed at Constant as he timidly stepped into the room, his heart hammering in his chest. Twelve bodies lay about the chamber, some only skeletons, some fresh enough to have passed only a day or two before. Each had been stripped, and each bore deep wounds that spoke of evil intent Constant could not begin to imagine.

A bloodied axe stood at the ready on a great chopping stone in the center of the ghastly collection, glinting in the pale moonlight shining through the broken window. It had tasted blood many times before, and Constant knew it was hungry for more. This was to be his fate, sealed since the moment he gave in to the Great Lady's demands for his hand in marriage.

But... why? Murder and chaos were never entirely without reason. Danvers and Rosamund needed the young men in the dark chamber to spill their blood for some reason, and Constant was to be next if he did not escape.

Husbands to keep her youth and beauty

Blood to keep her strong and eternal

Our lives for hers

She will not stop... you will not be the last

Voices whispered to Constant in the darkness, male voices in all different ranges. Young voices, old voices, frightened and tired voices. They call to him in the stillness, escaping the shattered bodies littering the floor to whisper warning.

"What must I do?" Constant asked softly. "I'm just a pub boy, not yet five and twenty summers. What could I possibly do to save myself?"

It will not be simple

The Lady can be ended

But you must go through the ancient one

"Danvers?" Constant couldn't help but scoff. "I doubt she has the strength to drown a kitten. She wouldn't be able to stop me."

Do not assume age means weakness

The ancient one is stronger than she wishes you to know

Deal with her first, then the Lady

Constant nodded, swallowing back his fear. "You will all be avenged. I am sorry she ended your lives like this, in cold and heartless blood. You have my deepest gratitude for this important advice, my fallen brothers."

The bodies were silent, the spirits now gone. All that remained was decay and silence, the thick stench of spilled blood in the air making his head swim.

He did not bother trying to lock the door again: Constant no longer cared if the Great Lady knew he was aware of her schemes towards him. Perhaps it was better if the villain knew her would-be victim had no intention of going down easily.

***

A storm had begun as the afternoon came, the manor locked in a black shadow as the light faded away completely. Thunder echoed distantly, the waves crashing against the rock as if determined to pull them down into the depths.

Rosamund did not come looking for him, and for that he was grateful. If he were to meet her face to face now, with all that he knew, Constant could not be sure he could keep himself from attacking her, from rending her limb from limb as savagely as she had done to her previous husbands.

They whispered encouraging things to him now, their voices much fainter than before, as if they had grown weak. Their words gave Constant hope, and with that hope came stories, names.

Pedro

Alan

Fredrick

Marco

Men who had come from different walks of life, from different places throughout the world. Each one had fallen into the trap the Great Lady set out, and each had found his end at her hands. Some loved her honestly, some loved only her money. They had no reason to lie: they were dead, nothing could harm them anymore.

Pedro, a baker. I loved the artistry of making fresh bread.

Alan, a bard. I sang songs of heros and gods.

Fredrick, a clerk. I kept the money in check for a large firm.

Marco, a journeyman. I traveled from place to place.

Conant heard these echoes as he slowly crept down the hall, each of the twelve bridegrooms telling their stories to the only ear willing to listen.

Andrea, a worker. I carved beautiful things out of marble.

Salvadore, a painter. I created wonders on the blank canvas.

Mathias. Gregory. Donovan.

Etienne. Timothy. Joshua.

The voices fell silent as Constant eased open the door to his chambers, their stories told. They would help him, that Constant knew. But they would not speak of themselves any longer, as their stories and their lives were over.

His rooms were icy, the air chilled as if in the dead of winter. Constant shivered as he locked the door behind him, fumbling for the switch to bring up the gas lamps. He was not alone.

Danvers sat in the high backed chair by the fireplace, watching the cold grate avidly as if flames flickered there. Her hands were folded neatly over the handle of a golden dagger, the blade stained with ancient blood dried a deep black with time.

"You are trying to leave," she said simply. "You know I can not allow that."

"I care not for what you do and do not allow," Constant replied, relishing the rancor that colored his tone. "Do as you wish. I will not be staying."

He did not turn away from Danvers, knowing exactly what she would do. The old woman sprang to her feet like a girl of five and ten summers, the blade clutched tightly in her gnarled hand. She lunged, but Constant merely stepped away, letting the momentum carry the wicked woman forwards into the window.

For a moment, Danvers stared at the glass in shock: the dagger tip had penetrated the windowpane, sticking out into the salty early evening air. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, as Constant and Danvers both watched the glass spider web around the dagger. It gave, making a soft tinkle sound as if too ashamed of itself to make a fuss over shattering, sending glass flying. Danvers fell forwards, and then was gone, crying out softly as she met her end.

That particular window faced the sea, jagged rocks below ensuring the wicked woman met her swift end as the tide swept in, washing her remains out into the depths. They were then lost forever in the darkness below the waves. It was no great loss, truth be told.

***

The end came quietly, as Constant descended the grand stairs to the main hall. The candles flickered as he passed, casting twisted shadows against the walls. Rosamund stood by the front doors of the manor, radiant in a crimson gown with a high collar. Her eyes were locked on Constant, hardly seeming to blink.

"I will be leaving," he said, surprising himself with how assured he sounded. "Danvers is dead. You can rot in this house with the ghosts of your sins for all I care, but you will not prevent me from leaving it."

Rosamund was silent for a long moment, her eyes shining in the faint candlelight. She seemed small and weakened, no longer the Great Lady he had married but a timid little child caught in a lie she was unable to talk her way out of.

"You know I love you," she said softly, her hands reaching out as if to take his. "I love you so very much, my beloved."

"You love me," Constant repeated, not bothering to keep the rancor from his tone. "You love me, as your servant called me names and made my life a living hell. You love me, as we did not share a bed, let alone a kiss."

He paused, giving thought to his next words. "You love me, knowing full well that you married me with twelve bodies rotting in your bloody chamber upstairs."

Rosamund flinched, Constant feeling a sick sort of pride. "You mustn't leave me," she said, taking a step forward. "I will make it easy for you, painless. You will sleep, and dream beautiful dreams forever."

"You mean I'll die," Constant spat. "You will drain my blood, and cut me into pieces like the others. Well, I refuse, do you hear?"

The Great Lady stepped closer, one hand sliding behind her back. Constant knew she was pulling a dagger from her skirts, foolishly assuming he had not noticed her subtle movement.

"My beloved," Rosamund whispered huskily, slowly lifting the dagger. The blade curved wickedly, the handle a brightly polished bit of bone. Likely taken from one of her previous husbands belongings, or worse, made from one of them, knowing her. The blade glinted in the half light as she took another step forward. "I need your blood, I need your skin. To keep me young, to keep my life everlasting. Is that really so wrong, to do what must be done to keep yourself alive?"

Her eyes glimmered dreamily, long fingers gripping the handle. Her step was steady and sure, her gaze locked onto Constant. She did not see his hand slip stealthily into his pocket, nor did she see the peas he had taken from the kitchen earlier that day scatter across the tile floor with a casual flick of his wrist.

Rosamund's shoes slid out from under her on the peas, her arms spread wide trying desperately to regain her balance. The dagger flew from her hand, skidding across the tiles to be lost somewhere in one of the deep pools of shadow beneath the candelabras.

Constant did not move a muscle to help her: he had no reason to save his would-be killer, even if she was supposedly his wife.

The Great Lady finally pitched over backwards, falling against one of the golden candelabras. The decorative spikes along it pierced deeply into her, forcing her breath out in a shuddering gasp. A single long barb speared through her heart, poking free of her gown. Viscous red poured free like a wine bottle uncorked.

"I...loved you," she whispered, lips stained a deep red. "You were the only one... I ever truly loved. I did not... lock your door as I did with the others... I...loved..."

"Love does not kill," Constant replied simply.

Rosamund's eyes fluttered shut, and she lay still. Her body slowly flaked away into black ashes. They scattered across the tile in a draft, as if wanting to be forgotten by everyone present. At long last, it was over, for Constant and for the previous husbands.

Constant stood for a moment, listening for the husbands to whisper to him again, to thank him for ending their killer, to say goodbye. But he realized they would say no more, because they were no longer trapped in this mansion of death. Rosamund's end had set them free.

There was little left for him to do now: he wanted nothing to do with the many chests of gold the Great Lady had showed him, knowing the money was indeed blood money obtained from dowries. He also wanted nothing to do with any gifts Rosamund had granted him during those long weeks, preferring to leave them all to rot.

The bodies in the chamber...

No one would believe him. The entire courtship had been dramatically whirlwind, but he had told no one about the engagement. The priest would say nothing of course, likely paid off by the Great Lady to keep silent about the whole affair. Constant had no family, no one to miss him. Even his few friends were merely acquaintances, who would not miss Constant if he suddenly vanished from their lives.

There were no ties, nothing to pin him down. He could leave everything behind, with no regrets.

All that was left to do was...

***

Morning was breaking as Constant walked the dusty path leading through the mountains, the land to either side deserted, blighted. He felt no fear, knowing there were no wolves or coyotes thanks to the deep silence in the night. The only killer in that land was now gone, leaving behind the quiet stillness of decay.

Behind him, the manor burned brightly against the backdrop of dawn, the flames eagerly devouring the dry timbers and rotted shingles. All it had taken was kicking over one of the candelabras, the dry timber of the floor going up instantly.

The dreadful sins of the Great Lady and Danvers would be fully consumed by purifying fire, the husbands spirits finally given lasting peace as the flames reduced their remains to ash.

Constant watched the sun rise over the hills ahead, the road stretching on seemingly forever. The memories of the past day would haunt him, this he knew, but they would not kill him. He was young, and he would endure anything life threw at him.

And above all else, Constant would never again take at face value a pretty offer from a beautiful face. After all, beauty hid dark intentions, and you never knew what hid behind a friendly smile.

"Turn back, turn back young maiden dear, 'tis a murderer's house you enter here"

-The Brothers Grimm, The Robber Bridegroom

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Out of Darkness - Chapter Eleven: What Have We Become- Alastor x human!fem!reader

Table of Contents | Hazbin Hotel Masterlist | Main Masterlist ⬴ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ⤀ AO3 | Wattpad | Quotev Words: ~4500 TW: swearing, violence, angst

Sinners were overcome with fear as rumours of the Radio Demon’s return spread through Pentagram City. Most of them started disappearing in mysterious ways, the thought of someone lurking in the shadows, hunting them one by one giving them restless nights. The overlords were not feeling any better about their fellow demon's return, their minds only imagining what plans he had in store.

Hesitantly, Zestial arranged a private meeting with Alastor, keeping it a secret even from Carmilla.

His fingers drummed restlessly on the armrest, his gaze fixed intently on the deer demon. "I see thy visit in the other realm did not affect thou, old friend." his voice echoed in the room. "The contrary even - thou seem to be in a good mood."

"Why of course! Why would a little road trip to the surface put me in a bad mood? I simply took a pleasant stroll and took the time to appreciate the finer things in life for a change." Alastor chuckled.

"It's just that having you away for a year made everyone… a bit worried."

"Worried about me? How delightful!" he remarked, placing a hand theatrically over his heart. "But let's leave this aside, shall we? I know you didn't ask me to come all the way here just to talk about my well-being."

Zestial sighed, leaning forward. "Indeed... there's something crucial I need to discuss with you, my friend." Alastor's eyes narrowed, a melodic hum resonating from him as he stood. "Is this about the book?" he asked, stepping closer to the overlord. "If it's so, here you have it!" he placed it in front of him, his fingers lingering for a few moments on the hardcover.

"Yes and no... This book is the one that thee seek, yet the issue is not related to it, as thou will see soon enough…" He carefully examined the grimoire, flipping through a few of its pages. His demeanour remained calm, but a sense of seriousness in his voice was clear. Zestial paused for a moment before speaking. He closed the book, still holding it in his hands, and looked at Alastor. "I will be blunt with you, old friend... I wish to ask a favour." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice." I wish for thou to keep this grimoire a secret. The fewer people that know of it, the better."

Alastor tilted his head to the side, his grin never faltering as he listened to Zestial's request. He crossed his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing slightly. For a moment, he simply sat in silence, mulling the request over in his head, before he spoke, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement. "On one condition, old pal."

"And what would that one condition be?"

"It's nothing much… You and the other overlords stay away from my business and I'll use the portals as discreetly as possible."

Zestial chuckled, mulling over Alastor’s words. He placed the grimoire on the table, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "That's all? It sounds simple enough... But I have one question." Alastor hummed in response, his ears perking up.

"May I ask...What exactly do you plan to use the portals for?"

Alastor chuckled at the question. "This, my friend, is an answer I can't quite provide yet." Zestial smiled at the response, a part of him expecting it.

"Ever the master of mystery, aren't we? I will fulfil your condition for the sake of our old camaraderie. Just remember to keep the knowledge of this grimoire hidden and do not use it frivolously. The last thing we need is Heaven catching wind of your presence there. Keep your true nature hidden as much as possible."

"Don't you worry my pal~ I have no intention of letting Heaven ruin my plans. They won't be knowing anything, of that you have my word. You keep your end of the deal, I keep mine. Simple as that." his eyes gleamed with an almost wicked light. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to pay someone a visit."

Zestial's eyes followed him as he slowly made his way out of the room. He knew it was a bad idea, but he also knew that he held no power over Alastor, especially when he was so determined to accomplish something. The best he could do for now is keep a close eye on his friend, making sure things don't get out of hand.

(Y/n) kept pacing back and forth around the apartment, her head hurting like crazy. It's been a few days since Alastor left with no explanation whatsoever and his shadows became more aggressive as days went by. At first, they were barely noticeable—just fleeting glimpses at the edge of her vision. But now, they were omnipresent, sinister smiles etched on their faces. She felt like she was going crazy, avoiding everyone she once loved to hang out with.

The phone rang, startling her, but her heart ached as she read the name - Mom. Tears formed in her eyes as she picked up, trying to act normal. Alastor's shadows looked closely as she held the same conversation from the past few days, her form crouched on the sofa, tightly hugging her knees.

"No, mom, we're fine… We just went through some shit but… I think we'll make it through." she hated that it seemed like she was protecting him; like he had done something bad and she tried to cover it. She hated that she had to lie when in fact she was only protecting herself from a monster she thought was her lover. "Ok… Love you too! Bye." she whispered, dropping the phone on the floor as soon as her mother hung up, breaking down crying. She raised her head, only to be met with all the shadows surrounding her, some of them actually seemingly worried.

She didn't know who or what they were, but over the past few days, she'd grown familiar with them—even giving some of them names, which they seemed to accept. The first to appear was The Second Alastor, a near-perfect replica of the original, but with a far more aggressive demeanour. She'd wake up, startled as he would stay in a corner of the room, watching her with a sinister smile. Sometimes, when he got bored, he hid her stuff, following her around the house as she desperately looked for them. But there was also a Third Alastor. He appeared right after the second one but seemed to be more docile, even friendly. They looked quite alike so, on the first day, she thought it was the same one.

The latest had more of a human form, no ears and no antlers. He wouldn't really do much, just appear and disappear from time to time, but he offered to help her find her "lost" stuff when she got too exasperated, much to his "twin's" dismay.

After the first two days, there were more shadows appearing one by one. They were all replicas of the others, but different details appeared and disappeared on each one. One was shy, hiding behind furniture, while others were forever present, but mostly ignoring her and just moving around the walls. Some were more friendly, staying by her side whenever she was sad, patting her shoulders gently or randomly playing with strands of her hair while she was doing basic chores around the house. She got sick leave from her job for a few days so she had nothing better to do anyway.

Now, they all watched her, but she was too exhausted to react. Sleep had eluded her for days, and her eyelids grew heavy as she finally drifted off, exhaustion overwhelming her. Whenever she fell asleep, nightmares of demons attacking her made her jump in fear, waking up in a puddle of sweat and failing to sleep until morning came. She closed her eyes, for just a moment, focusing on her breathing, as the feeling of being watched slowly faded. It seemed like a minute - a moment of peace before hell broke loose again.

She jolted awake from her nap, startled. A blanket she didn't remember using was draped over her, and the once-dark room was bathed in an eerie green light, her groggy mind struggling to process it. A loud thud made her jump, her eyes opening wide as a portal lit up her entire living room. She screamed, crawling away, as something dragged their body out of it, grunting with every movement.

Her eyes met their yellow ones, and more steps echoed from the portal. Her heart was racing, as cold sweats covered her body.

"Now, now, darling!" a familiar voice echoed through the portal as the demon breathed heavily. "You don't need to scream like that, you know?"

Alastor followed, slowly making his way out of the portal, his eyes glowing as it closed behind him, the green light slowly fading. He dusted himself off and turned his gaze towards (y/n), his features obscure in the dim light. "It's already eight here? No wonder this place is so dark," he said and in a moment the lights in the room turned on.

"Alastor?" (y/n) asked, but her eyes were still fixated on the demon that came with him. "Where… Where have you been?"

"Aww, my sweet, is that all you have to say to me after I've been gone for so long? A simple 'Where have I been?' And here I thought you missed me~" he approached her, her body stiffening up. He leaned in closer to her, his face mere inches away from hers as he offered her a hand to get up. "Oh, don't be like that, dear. There's no need to be so tense. I'm here now. After all, aren't you happy to see me?~"

She hesitantly took his hand, straightening up. "Of… Of course, I am." her gaze returned to the demon whose features were now clear. He seemed to resemble a cat, wings falling gracefully around his body. "Who is… Who is this?"

"This is Husk. A... business... associate of mine."

(Y/n) and Husk looked at each other, each one more confused than the other. Husk's eyes seemed to narrow as he glanced over (Y/n) sceptically. His wings shifted behind him, the scales and feathers rustling together, as his tail shifted across the carpet, wrapping around his claws a little.

"Why the fuck ya brought me here for?" Husk's words were directed towards Alastor, his tone gruff and rough. His eyes remained on her, not taking them off her form for even a second.

Alastor's smile only widened at Husk's reaction. He chuckled softly, his arm sliding around (Y/N)'s waist. "Now, now, Husker. Is that any way to talk to me? Especially in front of a lady?" He tightened his grip, pulling her closer to him. Alastor gazed down at her with a sly smile, his eyes flickering from her to Husk.

"Alastor… what is going on?" she asked, her voice as quiet as a whisper as she instinctively got behind him, trying to stay as far as she could from the newcomer.

Alastor chuckled softly, his hand running through her hair in an almost soothing manner, though the undertone of control was palpable. He glanced over at Husker. "Don't mind him, dearest. He's just a little grumpy right now. Had a rough time on our little trip back."

“Rough time, eh?” Husk's voice was still gruff, his eyes snapping back to glare at him. “More like a pain in the ass. I should have known you would drag me out of my damn bar.”

Alastor chuckled, gently pushing (Y/n) away as he made his way to his fellow overlord. She stepped back as a green chain former around Husk's neck. His eyes widened as he was suddenly lifted off the ground, his wings flapping instinctively in an attempt to break free from the green chain around his neck. He clawed at it, desperately trying to get it off as he was dragged closer to Alastor. His facial expression quickly changed from anger to fear as Alastor's voice echoed through the room, the static growing louder. "Now, Husker… Seems like you forgot you just sold your soul to me just mere moments ago…" Alastor chuckled, his voice filled with static. "I just dragged you here so we can end the deal. No need to be all irritated about it."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Husk's words came out panicked. He stopped struggling against the chain, his eyes fixed on Alastor's form.

"Please, stop it!" (Y/n)'s pleas echoed through the room, her eyes becoming glassy as the situation slowly overwhelmed her. Alastor's smile widened at (Y/N)'s pleading voice, the static in his own growing even louder.

"Ah, my sweet... No need to worry. We're just having a... friendly... discussion. Aren't we, Husker?"

He winced as the chain around his neck tightened, his breaths becoming irregular as he gasped for air. "Yes, we are..." Husk's words came out in short, shallow breaths. "Please, just... I'll stop, a'ight?"

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. A little civility can go a long way, my dear Husker~" He released the tension on the chain a little, letting him breathe more freely. He tilted his head slightly, eyeing the demon curiously, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Now, my dear," he began, turning to face (Y/n). She crouched down on the floor, her hands in her hair as she tried to calm down her breathing. Her head felt like it was about to explode, as she could hear her heartbeat. She tried to breathe to avoid a panic attack, the intensity of the events being too much for her sake.

Alastor's smile softened as he observed her panic-stricken form huddled on the floor. He let out a soft sigh, the static in his voice fading slightly "Now, now, no need to worry, my dear. Just stay calm and breathe, alright? Everything's going to be good..." He let go of the chain completely, allowing Husk to drop back down to the floor. Alastor made his way over to her, crouching down in front of her. He reached out, gently pulling her hands away from her hair. "I have a task for you, dear." He whispered to her.

With a last deep breath, she managed to calm down just a bit, but her eyes remained locked on the floor. "What is it?"

Alastor's smile turned smug once more, his eyes gleaming with a wicked glint. He reached out, gently placing a finger under (Y/N)'s chin and lifting her head, forcing her to look up at him. "Ah, there we are, my dear. Such a lovely sight~" He chuckled softly, his hand gently tilting her head from side to side as he spoke. His smirk widened as his eyes wandered over her face. "Now, I need you to do something for me. I have a very special task in mind for you…"

Out of thin air, a golden book appeared in his hand, placing it in her lap. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she held it, its cover crafted from deep crimson leather. Ornate golden filigree curled along the edges, spiralling inward to frame a large, gleaming red gem embedded at the centre—a gem that seemed to pulse faintly as if it had a heartbeat of its own. Intricate designs, resembling runes and arcane symbols, were etched meticulously into the metalwork, giving her a sickening feeling as her fingers ran across it. She couldn't help but feel the weight of the demon's gaze as she slowly undid the clasp that held the secrets within.

"What's this?" she asked, looking around the golden pages that seemed to be empty.

He chuckled, his hand resting on hers as she opened the pages. "You see, this book will act as a record of all my... business... dealings, my darling. It will act as a record of every little contract I make. Every deal signed, every soul owned..."  Alastor leaned forward slightly, his eyes flickering to Husk before returning to her. He chuckled again, a sly smile on his face. "And here we have your first entry." He gestured towards Husk, his expression becoming more serious. "You see, my dear, our dear, grumpy friend here has just sold his soul to me. We just need to... seal the deal, so to speak. To make it official. That's where your little book comes in."

Husk slowly rose from the floor, his wings unfurling as he dusted himself off. His expression was unreadable as his gaze shifted from Alastor to (Y/n), lingering on the book in her lap. A low grumble escaped him, his tail twitching nervously behind him. "And I suppose there's no other way to seal the damn deal, huh?" Husk's words were gruff and resentful, his irritation more than evident in his tone.

Alastor chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a devilish delight. "Ah, my dear Husker, you know me so well. Yes, there is indeed no other way to seal the deal. That book is it. Consider it the final touch. The final... signature... on the contract, so to speak."

"Ya really had to humiliate me like that? I am one of Hell's overlords… and you make a… human be in control of my soul?" he spat at the demon.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my dear Husker. I'm not putting my dear in control of your soul. No, no, no. She's merely the scribe, the record keeper, if you will. I still hold your soul in the palm of my hand." He chuckled, raising his hand and clenching it into a fist, Husk's wings twitching violently as a sudden pain coursed through his body. He clenched his teeth, falling onto the floor, his claws digging into the carpet. "She simply just has the responsibility of keeping track of it, that's all~"

"This was just a goddamn show to you, wasn't it? Just a way to humiliate me in front of a pathetic human..."

"It was merely a... fun little... experiment. But surely showing off your predicament in front of a human added a certain element of humour to it all" He chuckled again, his eyes flickering over to (Y/N). "Not that my dear here is pathetic, of course. Why, she's actually quite lovely, wouldn't you say?"

Husk's gaze shifted to (Y/n) too, his eyes studying her for a moment as Alastors words washed over him. His gaze was sceptical, his expression as unreadable as ever. He let out a low grumble, his tail lashing behind him once again.

"I don't think you're her type given by on how scared she is..." he mumbled.

Alastor shrugged, his smile never leaving his lips. "Oh, I'm sure my dear lady here will warm up to me in no time. She's just a little... overwhelmed, at the moment. Understandable, given the... circumstances..." He said, a hand ruffling through her hair. "Now, my dear (Y/n), let's sign him up, shall we?"

She looked at the paper in front of her, not sure what she should write. Should it look like the one she signed?

Alastor chuckled, noticing her hesitance. "Don't worry, my dear, you don't need to make it look too fancy or anything. Just write down the basics - Name, terms, and signature. You can... make it look a little... nicer if you want. But it's entirely up to you." she started writing down the demon's name, her hand shaking as the ink spread on the paper.

"Ah, excellent, my dear. Just like that. Now, the terms of the deal..." He placed a hand on the book, tapping gently on it with a clawed finger as he watched her write. "I promised our friend here total control of his powers, but in return, he has to help me with any favour I ask. Is that so, Husker?"

"Yeah. That's the deal. You got what you wanted, are you happy now? Can't we just... get this over with already?" Husk's tone was gruff and resentful, his eyes flickering over to the girl again, taking in her nervous form once more. Alastor took the book from her hands, stepping towards the now-past-overlord.

"Just need one final signature, my dear Husker, and the deal will be complete." He held the book up, holding a gold pen out to the demon.

Husk's expression darkened even further, his claws clenching as he looked down at the pen. He let out a deep sigh before taking it, the cold metal sending a shiver down his spine. He hesitated for a moment but eventually brought the tip down to the page, his signature appearing on the golden paper in black ink.

Alastor's smile widened as he watched, the deal now set. He chuckled, a dark gleam in his eyes as he closed the book, the contract now final. "Excellent, my dear. I must say, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He chuckled, his eyes flickering to (Y/N) once more. He made his way back to her, holding the book in his hand.

"Here you go, my dear. Your very first deal, signed and recorded. I'm so proud of you~" He chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke. He reached out, placing a clawed hand on her cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb. "Here, my dear, this is now yours to keep. I trust you'll keep a careful record of every deal I make. Not a single detail must be left out. Understood?"

(Y/n) nodded, looking down at the book.

"Good girl..." He stood up straight again, his eyes flickering over her for a moment before he spoke. "Now, Husk, I have to keep your soul safe somewhere until I return to Hell… I can't let you roam around this place now, can I?" with a snap of his finger, dark shadows engulfed Husk's body, making him disappear into thin air, his screams echoing in the room, but quickly fading away just as he was swallowed by the black shadowy veil.

 Silence settled over the room as (Y/n)'s gaze remained fixed on the spot where the demon had vanished. Alastor chuckled as he watched her reaction, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ah, poor Husker. He's probably in a state of panic right about now... But not to worry, dear. He's well taken care of." he said, tapping at his microphone cane.

"He's… in there?" (Y/n) asked.

"Indeed, my dear. A temporary prison of sorts, until I return. But he'll be fine in there, I assure you."

"Are you… leaving again?"

"No, no, I won't be leaving just yet. I still have some things to take care of before I go." He watched her for a moment before speaking again. "Ah, are you worried about me leaving, my dear?"

She looked away from him, eyeing the shadows that were now seemingly hidden. "Some of your shadows were kind of… acting weird."

Alastor chuckled, his eyes flickering down to them. "Ah, yes, the shadows. They have a mind of their own sometimes. Pay them no mind, my dear. They won't do you any harm." The third Alastor slowly approached his creator, whispering something to him. Alastor's eyes frowned as he looked at the second him, who was now hiding behind a desk. He cleared his throat, looking back at (Y/n). "I've heard… one of my shadows specifically gave you a hard time… I'll make sure this won't happen anymore." He stepped closer, crouching down next to her. "Forgive them. They can be… quite mischievous at times but they mean no harm, I assure you. They are my... eyes and ears after all." Alastor noticed her weary body, his smile slightly fading at the sight of her fatigued state. "Ah, my dear, you look exhausted. Why don't you get some rest, hmm? You've been through quite a lot in the past few days."

For a fleeting second, she wished that when she turned to face him, the Alastor she remembered would be there. Instead, she was confronted with the painful truth that he was an illusion—someone who had kept her from everything she once cherished.

"Could I… see your human form one last time?" she asked softly, a tear slipping down her cheek, dreading the potential repercussions of her request.

Alastor's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by her plea. After a brief pause, he sighed, knowing he could not deny her. "Of course, my dear. If that’s what you wish..." Gradually, his demonic form dissipated, replaced by a familiar face. She felt a momentary solace, trying to push aside the harsh reality that loomed behind her fragile hope. Perhaps he was right; perhaps she did prefer to believe everything was fine.

They just stood there, their eyes locked on each other, as she tried to pretend everything was as it used to be, even for just a moment. She tried to forget what happened, leaving behind the scars that were still yet to heal.

"I missed you…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, more a reflection of her inner turmoil than a deliberate expression.

Her words reached Alastor, and he felt a pang of regret. He understood that she wasn’t missing him as he truly was but the facade of their shared past. Yet, he couldn’t ignore the impact her words had on him. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, and for a moment, he chose to indulge in the pretence—convincing himself that he actually believed he was the one she truly loved, that their plans could still become a reality.

"I missed you too, darling…" He pretended to believe that he missed what they had, even though, deep down, he might feel indifferent to her fate.

This was their reality—a performance. Or that's how it was supposed to be. But playing an act shouldn't have made him fight so much just to have her. Playing an act shouldn't have made him actually want to be given another chance at life, just to be with her.

He was The Radio Demon. He told himself he just got too sucked up into this performance, but what stopped him from putting an end to it when it became too much? What stopped him from killing her when she clearly became nothing but a burden to him? Why is he here? Why is he back? Why, why, ẅ̶̙̄ȟ̵͓̝y̷̜̿̿? That fucking question again. A question that has no real answer. Because any answer would be faced with an endless chain of other whys, each one making him question himself in the end, something he always hated.

But he knew this question of why had its roots in a completely different one. One that he hated to even think about because there was one specific answer that would mean the end of him. The end of everything he wanted to be.

Was it really just a performance?

Tags: @sirens-and-moonflowers @xalygatorx @princessvampxx @lafy-taffy @mo-0-o

@cinnamon-galaxies​ @littlebluefishtail​ @ratsematary​ @n0tmentallystable​ @martinys-world

[pillowspace]

"Maria did an out of sync slow blink" I promptly did one in real life, I'll have you know

"Moon or CS Moon for short" I love how that's even longer

"Moon spoke in a language Maria was all too familiar and yet unfamiliar with. The foreign language danced around her ears like an unintelligible melody. Something that would never be understood by such simple ears and yet sounded like a beautiful language at the same time" I THOUGHT YOU WERE MAKING A JOKE ABOUT MY FRENCH LMFAO. I WAS WAITING FOR THE PUNCHLINE. TOOK ME A SECOND TO BE LIKE "wait, this is the celestial language"

"Maria was too tired for this" YEAH... YEAH, OKAY...

"Out of all the Moons in the world, Maria was glad that she was hallucinating about this one." CSD Moon, my safest Moon <3 ignore that he has the highest kill count out of all my Moons <3 Hold on, wait, can I try to rank them by kill count rn for fun... what are my AUs again... 1. Celestial Sundown Moon. 2. Two-Legged Chirps Moon. 3. A Dime a Dozen Moon, 4. Human Disguise Moon. 5. Musicbond Moon... I don't know where to put Time Loop Moon... why are the nicest ones the most murdery, excluding Musicbond. Okay, anyway, continuing on

"When was the last time you slept" easy, 3pm. Next question-- (technically /j but I think I did wake up at 3pm a few days ago...?)

WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO MY PHONE 😭

"There's lines of dialog I don't think Éclipse would say" sovbign... I was intensely editing a line over and over again just earlier

"Quickly turning it on and off" false, thee. th th . Tje. The. off button is jammed into theeee phone and,, actually wait i do have an app installed that lets me restart the phone from it. I do have to often restart the phone from there when it grows Concerning. Absolutely none of this is helping my case. Speaking of cases, my phone has never had one, but I've only dropped it like 5 times over the course of several years, so whatever

My god, I'm imagining just loredumping CSD's plans to Moon. He would be horrifed. So yeah, guess what, Moon. Not only does Sun go missing once, he goes missing TWICE. And that human who comes to help find him? [REDACTED] [REDACTED] but then you [REDACTED] and it [REDACTED] [REDACTED], and really, if you think about it at its core, they're [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED]-- Moon: .......... Me: but then that's all okay, because they choose to come back for you even though they have good reason to uhhhhh leave both you and Sun behind forever and ever. Moon: ...............................

We're smiling. Okay. Is he about to hit me with a brick? He is, isn't he?

NEVEVRRMIND NEVERMIND NEVERMIND NEVERMIND. HYPNOTIC MELODY YEAH THAT, I KNEW IT. YOU WERE SO RIGHT, I KNOW THE CHARACTER I WROTE...

SOBBING. I-- DO I SAY THANK YOU? THANK YOU?!?!? IMFJGJFHG. THANK YOU FOR THE EXPERIENCE. Yeah, dw, I'll sleep someday soon

Sleepless Night

“Y O U” a gravely voice whisper shouts from the void to the offending artist.

Turning to face the sudden interruption, Maria did an out of sync slow blink. Like a lizard with no concept of thyme lazily staring down an offending bug. The bug in question was a dark blue blob with some gold accents here and there. It was an odd sight to see in the dark of their room and even though a corner of Maria’s mind screamed about how the ‘hat man’ was finally here to whisk her away to the unknown. Another part of Maria’s mind, a much deeper and more personal part whispered that they knew this offending blob.

There was no mistaking it, this offending blob was a familiar personification of a skrunkly. A skrunkly, Maria knew very, very well. For they had once spent countless hours designing this character over and over again, even going as far as to hide a poorly drawn version away from others. Away from any judgement that may match the internal “ew no” Maria experienced when first experimenting with the character’s appearance.

‘This was It’ Maria thought to herself ‘I finally snapped’ their thoughts continued on as they took in the sight before them. It was a character they had written for one of their AUs that had gotten significantly popular. Moon or CS Moon for short stood before her with an unimpressed expression on his face. The faint glowing of decorative stars lighting up the very much ‘tired all of this and everyone’ nightly god. Highlighting a softness to his form that was currently not present in Moon’s expression.

“What are you doing?”

The question was clearly rhetorical and yet Maria moved to answer it. Opening their mouth to speak only to have Moon shush them,

“When-“ Moon spoke in a language Maria was all too familiar and yet unfamiliar with. The foreign language danced around her ears like an unintelligible melody. Something that would never be understood by such simple ears and yet sounded like a beautiful language at the same time. Even though Maria couldn’t understand they guessed it wasn’t said in the brightest light their ears had heard it in. Moon looked about as grouchy as ever, like a disappointed parent catching their child up and dancing at night.

“-told me that everything and everyone was a story book character in an alternate world. I should have known better than to indulge them” he wiped a hand down his face agonisingly slow. As if the thought itself was more than enough of a reminder of how he ended up in this place.

“What are you t-“ Maria couldn’t even get a word in before Moon sent them a sharp glare. A glare sharp enough to cut air and silence those around the god and silent Maria fell. Mouth thinning out into the thinnest of lines as they subconsciously gulped and leaned back in their chair. While Maria knew Moon would never hurt her, she still decided to let him take the reins of this conversation. After all, their mind and body felt like jello. Like a leaf in the wind, floating along to whatever was going on and just existing alongside the invisible tides. Though they would never admit it, Maria was too tired for this.

How sleep deprived was Maria? She had no idea but judging by how life-like and realistic Moon looked, she knew she had just crossed some sort of border. A boundary between waking sleep and sleepless night or whatever the right word was — this was taking up too much mental energy to name. Seemingly already out of it, it took Maria a full minute to realise someone was talking to them. But who was talking to them again? Oh right, Moon…or well one of their Moons. Out of all the Moons in the world, Maria was glad they were hallucinating about this one. After all, they didn’t want to get mauled without their trusted lume 5000 flashlight.

“Did you even hear what I was saying?” Moon’s unimpressed tone caught Maria off guard. Causing her to splutter and look up at the fictional god in confusion,

“s-sorry uhhh…what?”

Maria cringed at the tone of their own voice, sounding scratchy and exhausted despite being wide awake. Knowing this was all most likely an odd little dream, the least traumatic form of sleep paralysis they had ever experienced. Maria just blinked up at Moon once more and earned a sigh from the skrunkly in return.

“When was the last time you slept?”

The question was simple and yet Maria found herself counting on her fingers. Staring off into space in thought before forgetting what she was supposed to be even doing in the first place. Making a quick pop sound with their mouth, Maria looked up at Moon almost expectantly. Almost as if Maria’s brain would communicate through the dream character and tell them what amount of time had passed since they last slept. Instead of this however, Moon let out another long sigh. Shaking his head once the god of night already knew the answer, it had been too long. Far too long one too many times for what was considered healthy for mortals.

Rushing to reassure the figment of their imagination, Maria opens their mouth to speak, “I’m really not that ti-“ only to be interrupted by an involuntary yawn.

This did not seem to impress Moon as much as Maria had hoped. Shifting his weight from one side to the other the night spoke his final question,

“Why are you even awake?”

Ah, this was something Maria could answer. Pulling out their pathetic excuse of a phone, Maria held it up in the air. Waving it around a bit as the smart phone was already one foot in the grave as it tried not to heave out its hard drives. This gesture only seemed to confuse the centuries old god. Rather that was because phones had not been invented in its time or rather because it just didn’t understand where Maria was going with this. But that’s ok, they would explain it to him,

“This is my phone” they started off slowly so that Moon could keep up, “I’m writing the next chapter on it…but it’s a little hard. There’s lines of dialog I don’t think Éclipse would say” Maria explains like it’s nothing. Though there is a tint of frustration in their voice.

“Éclipse?”

“Oh um don’t worry about it” Maria tries to awkwardly segway away from the topic and doesn’t fail to live up to the awkward part at all. Turning back to her desk, Maria accidentally drops the half-dead phone and splutters to pick it up. Quickly turning it on and off to make sure it was somehow still working despite being on its last leg and luckily it was still going. Maria turned back to the awaiting god of night and looked up at him. Sheepishly trying to hide the wobbly smile on their features with an awkward laugh. Causing Moon to squint his eyes at them, clearly this display was not working as much as they had hoped.

“You need to go to sleep”

Moon emphasises on the word ‘need’ and frankly Maria silently agrees with him. But there was no way she could sleep, not like this. Already having crossed the point of no return centuries ago, Maria opens her mouth to protest,

“But I need to get this chapter out. If I could just figure out how t-“

“No”

Maria’s words are cut off by Moon taking a step forward through the darkness of their room. Body highlighted by the faintest streaks of light as the early morning sun teased its arrival and the start of a fresh day peaking out from beyond the horizon.

“You can get back to writing later, but for now you must sleep”

Moon reiterates in a much stronger and more commanding voice. Causing Maria to whine in protest, unable to come up with a good comeback other than ‘I’m not tired’ and ‘I’ve stayed up later before’ knowing that would not help her case here.

“…b-but I can’t sleep”

Maria tries to explain and at this it seems Moon understands. Looking the tired artist over before looking back up at them and doing something Maria had never expected from him. Moon smiled at Maria, actually smiled and the smile caused the artist in question to pause. Leaning back in their chair, Maria knew what he was planning. After all they did design and write Moon. Whatever dream-state mirage this was, Maria knew what was in store for them.

“Do you want to sleep?”

“I mean yeah b-“

“Then you shall sleep~”

The god of the night said so smoothly and softly it was almost jarring compared to how Moon usually spoke. Knowing what was to come, Maria’s eyes widened in realisation as they say their own fictional character audibly begin to sing a foreign melody. Moon didn’t even get to sing the first line of the lullaby before Maria promptly passed out. Out like a light and laying slump against her chair as Moon took note of the soft rising and falling of her chest.

Smirking to himself, Moon pat himself on the back. This was a new record, no mortal he had crossed paths with before had been this sleep deprived. Looking over the sleeping artist once more Moon made sure they were ok before grabbing a nearby blanket and tossing it over their sleeping form. Doing one last look over before whispering a simple little, “Good night”

“Alright, I’m ready to come back now. If you told anyone I left the celestial realm. I’ll remind the higher gods you pushed me into this world”

Moon grumbled impatiently at the open air of the room. Back turned to Maria as he awaited the familiar portal to open up and step through it. Shooting a glare at the guilty god in question as he silently curses himself for having let his guard down so easily.

@pillowspace I mean this lovingly when I say, “go to bed, you sleepless heathen”