#alastor just be like: I think you have brain damage actually

[damnedrainbows]

Husk couldn’t help but think of Lucifer’s casual remark one time ‘I think man’s got a touch of the tism’, and from what he knew of it, he wondered if Alastor had a whole fucking choke hold of it, actually. Then again the blame could fall on himself, he was dancing around the subject and avoiding being direct. That was mainly because…he really didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he was well versed in love confessions, especially with such a tumultuous relationship.

Coming to grip with these feelings were hard enough, let alone while he was likely concussed. He should probably wait to say anything, but they’d come this far. He was nuzzled into him. “Probably, you make me pretty sick,” he quipped. Finally, out with it. “Fuck man, is it going to take a kiss for you to understand?”

A pained noise left him as his palm pushed up against the bump, which was damp and red. And fucking sore. It brought a swell of vertigo he did his best to ignore. It seemed he hit his head way harder than he thought, unsure how his pupils looked. Eh, probably wasn’t important.

“You’re very blameable, that’s why,” Husk drawled, a soft purr rumbling out even through the pain…just at their close proximity. “You’re like this…fucking poltergeist here to haunt the entirety of my afterlife. You’ve vexed me for years…a walking curse that follows me,” he drawled. You’d think he was talking about someone he hated rather than the man he was quickly coming to realize he loved.

Well honestly, those two emotions were one and the same when it came to the complexity of his feelings to Alastor.

And the venomous sounding words were quite a juxtaposition to the way he was nuzzling the deer’s face.

[whatswrongwithblue]

Reader does actually try to walk off a cliff and Alastor catches them and gets furious and sexy about it and pounds Vexi... I mean reader into the mattress so hard she can't walk anymore and he ends up laughing saying 'let's see you try to do that again now your legs won't work'

Beta'd by @inuhalfdemon

For my darling @redvexillum, I know you're Overtime Vexi right now; working hard on the Discord server, keeping up with daily Kinktober posts, and also literally working an IRL job. This is a no pressure gift to you. Read when you have time and need a little pick me up. I even based Reader off of your avatar on your blog and used language specifically from my favorite fic of yours . . . you know the one *wink wink*.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: suicide ideation, suicide attempt, depression, mental illness, dissociation, possesive Alastor, Alastor owns Reader's soul, sex as punishment, angry sex, oral (fem receiving), p/v sex, shadow tendrils/tentacles, bondage, use of a gag, overstimulation, lack of aftercare, begging, dom/sub dynamic.

Falling

The warm night breeze ghosted through your hair; a gentle lover’s caress across the back of your neck. It calmed your nerves as you looked down at the drop below and you closed your eyes, thinking you could almost hear the wind telling you to take that final step.

Just one little step.

A few seconds of falling.

Then darkness. Nothing. Peace.

The wind kicked up a little harder, fanning out your wings, and nearly making you lose your balance. You gasped and flailed your arms, catching your balance before you fell.

A stupid lingering human instinct to save yourself. Your body’s nervous system fighting against what your mind desperately wanted.

You took a deep, steadying breath in, and tucked your wings in. They were tiny; pink and membranous things that seemed more for aesthetic than any kind of purpose. It’s not like you could fly with them. They were no more useful than your asymmetrical horns when it came to that skill only very few Sinners were lucky enough to have. And they weren’t even very demonic looking, as far as demon appendages went. Both your horns and your wings were pink, slightly darker shades than the pastel of your skin and hair. Even your fucking irises were pink.

While you quite loved pink as a human, it just felt insulting down in Hell. Like every other aspect of your demon visage. Useless. Infantile. Boring.

Nearly making you fall to your death by being caught in a sudden gust of hot air was the only favor your wings had ever done for you.

Not that you would permanently die, you lamented. Eventually you would re-spawn somewhere within the city. But re-spawning took hours, sometimes even days. And in that time would be nothing. When you were alive you always joked about wishing that you could just take your brain out of your skull, like a temporary death, just to quiet the awful thoughts and feelings your malfunctioning organ plagued you with day and night.

Here in Hell, you could actually do that. Again and again, if you so chose to.

All you had to do was jump.

Maybe it wasn’t worth it. When you came back, Alastor would certainly hunt you down and find you. And you could just see the disappointment in his face. Hear the disgust in his voice. How lowly he would think of his darling then, that she would perform such an empty and pathetic act.

But then again, he was going to find out who you were at your core eventually. Better to rip the bandage off and make him face just how truly damaged you were before you continued to waste his time further. He was bound to get tired of pulling you out of your depressed funks after enough time had gone by. And what good did you bring to his life anyway?

You were a distraction.

He had snapped that to you earlier that evening when you had interrupted his work at the hotel. Those last stinging words echoed through your mind, branding themselves into your grey matter so that you never forgot them.

Well, you wouldn’t be distracting him anymore after this stunt. He wouldn’t bother with you afterwards.

And if you found you really did enjoy the nothingness that came between death and re-spawning, the extermination wasn’t far away. All you had to do was stand in front of an exorcist and simply not move as they brought their blade down on you. Then it would truly be an eternity of peace and quiet for you.

No more distractions.

The thought came to you bitterly as you considered that Alastor was the one who had been distracting you. All these months of his attention, of him making you his darling, of him making you fall in love with him, had just distracted you for a while. But now the pain was back, worse than ever, with one small argument between you two and you realized if it wasn’t for him, you likely would have jumped off this roof months ago.

You could have let it all go during the last extermination, while everyone else was huddled safely inside the hotel.

What a waste of time. A useless, boring, distracting life.

A deep breath. A single tear sliding down your cheek. A last thought of warmth and safety whispering through your mind . . .

“Alastor.”

His name left your lips like a prayer and an apology.

You took a step over the ledge.

The street below became your entire field of view as you lost your footing entirely.

And then the world glitched.

Colors blended in choppy formation and static screamed in your ears, threatening to burst your ears drums. Everything was fuzzy and going dark and a strange tingling filled your body, like your very blood had turned to static.

And then you were back on your own two feet, standing face to chest with the red and black pinstriped suit you knew so well.

Unnaturally large claws had you by the shoulders and you tilted your head up, taking in the full view of a very angry Radio Demon.

Alastor towered over you, his antlers spread wide, his eyes turning like radio dials, and he lifted you up like you weighed nothing until you were face to face and your feet were dangling several feet in the air.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, his voice even more full of static than you were used to.

Your eyes went wide at the use of vulgarity from him. You could count with your two useless wings how many times you had heard him swear before and never had it been directed at you.

When you didn’t answer right away, he shook you, calling you by your real name rather than darling, which he never did. He demanded an answer but all you could manage was a little whimper before you broke.

Your chin quivered and you felt the swell of tears in your eyes as a sob squeezed your chest and erupted out.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out and then slowly, ever so gently, you felt yourself being lowered to the ground and then your face was pressed against the soft fabric of Alastor’s suit. His bow tie tickled the side of your face and his scent, heady with Spanish moss and cypress, and some other uniquely Earthy smell that was entirely him, filled your senses.

“Darling,” he said quietly, “my darling . . . why?”

You could barely breath through your sobs, let alone speak, so it took you a moment to gather the strength to answer. Clutching at the back of his jacket, you pressed your face into him harder, trying to hide your reasoning, bury your shame, pretend like every pathetic part of you didn’t exist.

But he had seen, hadn’t he? He had watched you take that step, had come up here to find you and seen that final microsecond when there was nothing but air between you and the ground below.

And he had altered reality to bring you back to him. To save you.

Half of you hoped that meant he really did love you like you loved him. Like he promised every day that he did, even though you never quite believed it.

The other half of you whispered an insipid little lie that was too tempting to not consider  . . . that this whole stunt of yours was just another distraction.

“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” you finally whispered, hiccupping and choking as you struggled to speak.

Alastor went stiff around you, and you thought then that he would finally push you away. Agree that you really were just a bother. That if he were to ever shackle himself to another soul, it certainly wouldn’t be to such a weak little wretch as yourself.

Instead, his long, clawed fingers grasped you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. And though his expression was often hard to read, the strain in his smile showed anger while the burning in his ruby eyes showed pain.

“What gave you the idea that you could do such a thing? That I would allow it?”

“Wha . . . what?”

“You’re mine now, darling.” He pulled on your chin, forcing you on tip toe as he brought your face closer to him. “You belong to me and I don’t let what belongs to me just fly away. It seems you have forgotten that.”

His claws were digging into your cheeks and along your jaw line, stinging and threatening, even as he brought his lips down and gave you the gentlest kiss on the forehead.

 

“Perhaps I need to remind you of that,” he whispered to you, his voice low and tender, crackling with a passion you couldn’t misplace. He was angry, you realized, oh yes he was furious with you. But as the world went fuzzy once again, and you felt the familiar sensation of melting into shadow, and your soul blended with his, you could literally feel that burning rage inside of him being twisted and morphed into more direct emotions. Lust and desire filled what was left of your identity as Alastor transported you through the ceiling and walls of the hotel and into your room.

Now this was flying.

Alastor had sat you at the foot of your bed, making quick work of removing your underwear, lifting your pleated skirt above your hips, and kneeling before you, all before you had come down from the bizarre and disorienting high of being nothing but shadow with him.

Now you were reduced to a shell of a person, thoughtless and detached from your feelings and in the best of ways, as Alastor’s tongue made your nervous system aware of nothing else but the bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your knees were resting on his shoulders and already shaking as his tongue twisted and lapped at your clit, occasionally giving the swollen pearl a hard suck, as two fingers pumped into your core, working to pull a second climax from you.

Distantly you were aware of the flutter of your wings; a helpless reflex, along with the tremble of your legs. Tears streamed down your cheeks, though you paid that no mind either. Even if you had noticed them, you wouldn’t be able to place which emotion was drawing them from your eyes.

You only knew that this feeling; the intense physical sensation of Alastor turning you into a whimpering, wanton mess, allowed you to dissociate in the best of ways and everything that had tormented you to the point of standing on that cliff’s edge was completely forgotten.

The fingers of one of your hands wrapped themselves in a white-knuckled grip around his antler while your other hand found purchase in his red locks and you sobbed out his name as you came again.

Just as your walls began to clench, Alastor pulled himself from your clutches, leaving your cunt to clench needfully onto nothing. The abrupt lack of touch right at the beginning of your orgasm was torture and in his absence you pressed your legs together, searching for any friction that would allow for a fraction of the satisfaction his tongue and fingers should be giving you.  

“Now, now, dear,” Alastor tutted, and you felt your legs forced back apart. “Remember, I’m here to make a point. And that point is . . .” You looked down to see tendrils of shadows spreading your legs farther open, tangling themselves around your thighs and hips. “. . . You’re mine.” He began undoing the top of his trousers. “And  any rash decisions,” he pushed his trousers down below his waist, “like trying to jump off buildings,” he pulled his cock free and you salivated at the sight of its red and swollen tip already weeping pre-cum for you, “or pleasuring yourself without permission,” he leaned over you, his tense and wicked smile inches away from your lips as his took a painful fistful of your hair, “will be met with severe punishments.”

You swallowed, daring to meet his eyes with your own submissive, watery ones, and nodded.

“There’s my darling I know and cherish,” he said sweetly. His fingers left your hair and traced along your jaw until they came to your lips.

“And now that we’re at an understanding,” he snapped his fingers and your clothes vanished, “let’s see how well you can take your punishment.”

His cock thrust into you as black tendrils slithered their way up the rest of your nude body, pinning you in place. They teased and stroked every erogenous zone with lovely tenderness, their touch soothing and affectionate even as they forced you to near absolute stillness. In stark contrast, Alastor pounded into you, stretching you to the point of burning and igniting the still burning embers of your last orgasm that Alastor had left unfinished.

You came within seconds, your walls spasming hard against the fat width of his cock. Alastor drove on as if he hadn’t noticed, deep enough to hit the blind end of your depths with every forward thrust. The bruising combination left a dull cramp in your belly as your climax went on for several more moments, an intense combination of pleasure and pressure.   

After the quaking within your core subsided, you went limp within the clutches of the shadows. Three orgasms as intense as the ones you had just experienced were more than enough to placate your mind and body and your teary eyes now began to droop with sleepiness.

And yet Alastor was clearly not finished with you.

“Alastor,” you pleaded, knowing he still hadn’t come but you intended to beg for him to be a little gentler with you until he had. Instead of letting you speak, however; a tendril that had been near your throat laced itself through your open mouth and synched itself around your head, effectively gagging you.

The only response you got from your lover was an angry red glow of his eyes as they narrowed onto you, before he gripped your thighs with his claws and continued on with his brutal pace.

Too much, too much, too much, you internally screamed, a fresh torrent of hot tears burning down your cheeks. Your teeth sunk into the meat of the tentacle between your lips and you strained against the ones holding your wrists down to the bed.

The brutal pace of your punishment went on for several more minutes; an eternity for your overstimulated sex. Everything between your ribs and your thighs burned and ached from the ceaseless, intrusive rhythm of Alastor’s body against yours. Inside and out, he continued to savagely ravish you, until there was nothing else for you to do but begin to silently cry and take the punishment he was dolling out.

Alastor pulled out of you with a suddenness that both relieved and confused you. Your throbbing cunt ached from what it had just been through but as your eyes met his, you felt an emptiness within you. Still wrapped in tentacles, you glanced down at his glistening cock before you looked back up at the sharp tooth smile on the face of the man that you feared and loved above all else.

He still looked as pissed off as ever but there was a softness at the corner of his eyes that hinted at concern and you knew him well enough to know he was worried he might have taken things to far.

As you felt the shadow tentacles begin to loosen around you, you felt a emotion so long-forgotten you almost didn’t recognize it.

Confidence.

And with that thought, you wordlessly turned yourself around until your lay on your belly, exposing your backside and the tiny pink wings you knew Alastor loved to play with whenever he was angry.

A moment came and went and you were just beginning to wonder if you had misread the owner of your soul. You opened your mouth to speak his name once more but before you could utter a syllable, you felt your arms yanked back by the wrists and a powerful tendril wrap around your throat, holding you face down into the mattress.

The shadows that were still around your hips tightened and forcefully lifted your ass into the air and you braced yourself a second before Alastor’s cock slammed back into you, filling you back up to completion and eviscerating that feeling of emptiness.

Tired and spent as you were, you moaned aloud and squeezed his member with every last bit of strength you had within your spongey walls.  

You felt the long, slow drag of his retreating cock sliding against every sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you before another snap of Alastor’s hips had it rocketing back into you.

“Say it,” he commanded and you shuddered with your whole body, knowing what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your darling,” you replied, breathless and yet moaning again as he rewarded you with another thrust.

“And?”

“I belong to you.” He matched this thrust with a gentle stroke of a shadow across the membrane of one of your wings. “Mmmmmm, more,” you begged, as your wings gave a tiny, involuntary flap at the feather light touch.

But he had stilled behind you, waiting for your needfulness to build until you were begging.

“Please,” you sobbed out, feeling your chin quiver as all the emotions of the night came rushing back to you. “I’m sorry, Al’. I’m so sorry.”

As you spoke, the touching of your wings and the powerful movement of his cock began anew. You blabbered on, afraid if you stopped talking, the pleasant sensation of his touch within you and above you would end.

“I love you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never even think about leaving you ever again. Not in anyway. Not even when your angry with me. Not even when I hate myself. Because I’m yours and I’ll always be yours. I’m so sorry, Alastor. Please don’t stop. Please, you feel so good. Fill me up, love. Because I’m your darling and I’ll be good from now on, please just fill me up. I’m your good girl and I love you and I want to feel you inside me. Please, please, oh God Al’, you feel so good, I’m – I’m – I-”

With a painful pull on your wrists you felt all the way into your shoulders, you felt him spill his seed within you as his body tense and every shadow of his went impossibly taut around you. The heat of his cum burned your walls and spilled down your inner thighs, coating you and marking you as his, and you came along with him, screaming into the sheets. Every tendril bruised into your skin, leaving marks around your throat, breasts, wings, hips, and thighs, as Alastor lost all control, even as he continued to pound into you with an uneven and desperate pace.

Everything blurred as you came down from the high together. You felt your muscles turn to jelly and give out in the final moments of your climax, just in time to feel Alastor finally still and begin to soften before he pulled out.

After several serene moments had gone by, the sheets beneath you began to move and pull away. As if in a dream, you felt your body being moved up the bed and then Alastor’s weight joined next to you as you were tucked into bed. Without being cleaned and without a word of praise or love, which he usually included in an aftercare routine for you.

But you knew, deep within the fog of your exhausted mind, that you deserved this. You would wake up in the morning marked by the bruises and the sticky mess between your legs, and only then would you be allowed to shower and heal yourself.

“Thank you,” you murmured with closed eyes as he finished tucking you in. “I don’t think I can move after that, let alone walk.”

An amused, deep chuckle came from Alastor before he pinched your cheek hard enough to make your eyes snap back open.

He got up from the bed, now fully dressed, and straightened his bow tie and monocle before marching towards the door with a pleased and arrogant look on his face.

“Good, my darling. That’s good. Let’s see you try to pull that nonsense again now that your legs don’t work. Sweet dreams,” he added as he opened the bedroom door and gave you one last warning smile before he slammed the door behind him, hard enough to knock a few decorations off the walls.

You sighed as you heard a lock clicking into place, knowing his point was made, and that he was still very much angry with you. But the storm had passed, for both of you. You relaxed into the soft pillow and closed your eyes, the first smile in days touching your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

[contumacious-arcadia]

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

[theeeveetamer]

The more I think about the final fight between Dante and Vergil in DMC5, the more convinced I am that they were never actually going to kill each other (and they only stopped fighting because mom Nero got mad at them)

One, because Visions of V basically just confirmed for me that punching the snot out of each other is the Sparda boys' love language. That little smile they do when they talk about fighting being the only memory they have of each other is just. God I have a lot of feelings

Two, I mean I do genuinely think Dante was willing to kill Vergil (and possibly trying) but I'm not convinced Vergil was returning the sentiment. I don't feel like, at any point post-merge, Vergil was actually interested in killing Dante. If we was, then him accepting Playground Rules ("If I beat up Nero then I beat you up too by default!!!" and "You gotta listen to him cuz you lost!") would make no sense

And honestly I feel like after Nero interrupted them Dante probably realized Vergil was different and stopped trying to kill him. If he was really bent on killing Vergil then I don't see why he would just sit it out instead of, I dunno, teaming up with Nero as would be logical to defeat this serious threat

and THIRD and probably most important... even if we assume Dante and Vergil genuinely were trying to kill each other... could they? I mean that in a literal sense. Is it even physically possible to kill them?

Because we haven't actually seen either of them die, and it's really not for a lack of trying! Vergil got bisected, dropped off a cliff, tortured for a decade, and then beat to a bloody pulp and he still found time to wander the earth as a crumbling murder hobo for god only knows how long until he took Yamato back and stabbed himself in the guts.

And on Dante's end he got stabbed by Yamato, stabbed by Rebellion, shot straight through the forehead, caught another bullet in his teeth, slam dunked into the floor by Beowulf, stabbed by Alastor, choked out and thrown around like a ragdoll, stabbed by Rebellion (anime), stabbed by like fifteen pointy tentacles at once (also anime), stabbed by Rebellion, tossed around like a cheap ragdoll, spent a month in a coma, and then stabbed by Rebellion. He stabs himself with DSD as a power up!

I guess you could argue beheading might work? But Vergil got his entire top half lopped off at the end of DMC3 and he treats it like a minor flesh wound after about two seconds. I don't see why their necks would behave any differently. Dante gets shot straight through every lobe in his brain and is fine after half a second, so clearly brain damage is no impediment to their functioning

though actually now that I think about it, Vergil would definitely snark about Dante getting brain damage

[katshelluvacritic]

Not sure if you've seen the finale of the show yet because I'd love to hear your thoughts on how absolutely useless Charlie was once again

I’ve pretty much all the eps for season 1 so you don’t have worry about the spoilers.

As for the ep, I’mma just immediately rip the bandaid off and say that I had to watch it again to remember what happened, yet my brain is still kinda processing it again so I’mma type this to the best of my ability and if I do miss some parts I do apologize.

To start off with one of the things I didn’t like that included Charlie (mostly a personal nitpick) was her “battle fit” (if you could even call it that)

I feel like it should be self explanatory but I’ll explain anyway; for one, the fact that Charlie wearing what I like to call “the evil star butterfly cosplay” just doesn’t make sense to me. Like even though I don’t like Vicky’s fit either, at least she’s wearing something that could cover her skin to lessen the risk of cuts and injuries.

Charlie however is not only wearing a dress but also HIGH HEELS, which realistically would prob have her dead from the spot because for one, you can’t run in heels and two, like I said before she’s at higher risk to be injured compared to Vicky.

Like I’m honestly shocked that she only got a few rips from her clothing and a few bruises, like I get she’s the princess of hell but damage is still damage.

Not only that since Charlie is a princess then, wouldn’t she have access to wear royal armor??? Assuming she did (because there’s gotta be a reason to where she got that shield from), why didn’t she just wear that???? I feel like it would’ve been the most logical thing to wear since after all, YOUR GOING TO WAR AGAINST DEMONS.

Also speaking of the shield, why does she only have a shield and nothing else? You would think that since she’s the princess of hell she’d have some sort of weaponry but no.

She just guards herself a shield while occasionally throwing up magical fireworks like if that’s gonna do anything. Like, I get all niffty did most of the time was stab already dead angels before she killed adam, but at least she actually tried to do some damage compared to Charlie.

And then Razzle and Dazzle.

Listen, I can understand her not being able to save sir pentious because she was trying to protect Vicky and a lot of stuff was going on but why did she summon them? Isn’t she the daughter of lucifer? Wouldn’t she have transforming powers or something to get up there

I mean we’re shown in this gif that he can transform into different animals as he so pleases and can EVEN GROW WINGS.

Wouldn’t Charlie technically have those abilities? And even if she doesn’t have those abilities, these fuckers have guns and cannons with them that could shoot/blast Adam down.

Also gotta love the fact Charlie just stays on the roof of the hotel and watches the Lucifer and Adam fight happen UNTIL ADAM RAY BEAMS THE HOTEL IN HALF, ONLY FOR HER TO BE SAVED BY LUCIFER was so dumb. Women do SOMETHING WHY WERE YOU JUST STANDING THERE????

then like the ending. Omg the ending…

“Omg guys I lost sir p and the hotel guys, I failed” PENDEJA. YOU DID JUST DICK ALL DURING THAT WAR OTHER THAN WAVE SOME SHIELD AROUND WITH SOME FIREWORKS. CRY HARDER. BOO HOO I GUESS.

And I just gotta say, I doesn’t entirely include Charlie but like these parts of the lyrics

What???? Tf you mean redemption may take a while???? We’re still going with that??? After the war against heaven you guys just had??? Did Charlie forget what happened in episode 6, where like there was some shit about heaven being a lie and this evil place???? Why are you guys still trying to redeem sinners when YOU Charlie, realized heaven is evil???

But don’t worry, they rebuild the hotel guys! They can live happy ever after right?

Even though like… let me check my notes…. Oh right! Angel is still stuck with valentino, husk’s soul is still taken away by alastor! Oh yeah, I guess viv forgot about that part I guess.

I know I’ve already said this to friends of mine but ngl this episode especially just reminded of this one page from sonichu where Chris and his chars execute a guy in an electric chair but make it viv’s characters and Adam/heaven.

But uh, yeah. I don’t like Charlie, I don’t like this episode, I don’t like this series. I don’t know anymore.

[styxnbones]

bound & break for harper on the not so nice ask game? ^3^

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Up until this last year, only the once. But! being in an active chronicle is great for getting those incarceration numbers up lmao. First off, they got nabbed by the SI while trying to save a revenant from them. That one was several months of being staked and starved, since the hunters refused to give them flesh instead of just liquid blood. Though, they actually had miracle level rouse checks and remained conscious for a significant portion of it all. They ended up escaping with the help of the Red Alastor Sulla (yes, the historical roman dictator Sulla, you can thank @tzimizce for that galaxy brain idea) who sent a wraith to un-stake them and then submit to being completely consumed by them. Obviously, the surveillance on their cell noticed, but they were able to talk their way into being released as a mole for the SI and as such did come out with a physical scar- a small listening device embedded in the back of their throat that caused a permanent point of aggravated damage (until they got a mouthful of acid blood that melted it away but that's another story).

The second time was a two week stay in a padded oubliette with a feral skeleton for a roomie (@harbingerofskulls 's Mattia). This was because they couldn't keep a lid on their hatred for the Giovanni and threw Sulla's Gio boytoy (@cemeterygrotesque 's Nero) through a wall for provoking them. The third is related to the second, but by far the worst. During their fight with Nero they had threatened to kill his girlfriend, Renere, if they weren't allowed to kill him. So, when they got out, they stupidly decided to make good on the threat. They tricked her into coming down into their creepy ass basement and ate her alive, nearly to final death. However, her "parasite" (a slayer demon called Bergamot) stepped in and basically sent Harper to super hell. In reality it was only two weeks, but to Harper it felt *much* longer as they were paralyzed with the branches and trunk of a stone tree having grown through their body and a bunch of spirits there to personally torment them. The mental scars from this have yet to come up, but if they ever went to the shadowlands again I think they'd be constantly making checks against fear frenzy.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

It's funny that you picked this one as well, bc nearly all of the times they've broken down it's been related to being imprisoned. The lowest they've gotten in the chronicle was in Bergamot's Toture Nexus for sure, so he and a bunch of wraiths saw them but mercifully no one else. They're remarkably resilient, but even they aren't immune to crying and begging- even just to thin air when they've been left to suffer.

[allastoredeer]

So I just DEVOURED your "just kiss already" series and dude, I was nervous about radioapple stuff because I am very nitpicky about IC stuff and despite how much I ship them, I was kinda nervous about fics and having them actually get together, but the way you've done it so far with that fic is SO COMPELLING and so CLEVER. All of it is so smooth and natural and authentic, I just... I needed to come leave an ask about it and let you know how badly you've broken my brain being impressed by every line. Like every time I think it cannot get better, it does. I cannot waitttt to read more of it. Thank you so much for writing it.

Also that Velvette/Vox off-camera notes exchange made me laugh out loud. Honestly Vox, you must acquire some chill post-haste.

AHHH! Thank you, thank you! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

Nah, I get it about being nitpicky. I'm like that with a lot of fandoms I'm in. Which can be a blessing and a curse. I know what I want, which is nice, but when even the smallest thing is off I have to dip, which leaves me like this ლ(ಠ益ಠლ) at my brain. I just wanna read the blasted fanfic please T.T

Thank you so much for dropping by and leaving an ask about it ♥‿♥ it's always such a delight seeing these types of asks in my inbox, and I reread them a thousand times before I even respond LOL

Vox needs to be medically prescribed for chill-pills. Or, at the very least, have the Hell equivalent of an epi-pen on hand every time he see's Alastor, that way Velvette and Valentino can give him a jab so he doesn't go into anaphylaxis.

The next chapter of Damage Control will, hopefully, drop in a few days! I'm currently editing it, so we'll see how the process goes.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Now I can’t stop picturing an AU of this AU where it’s Vox who gives Alastor brain damage (Definitely by accident). I feel like Vox would come to really regret his decision.  [Written before I read the post discussing the same topic]

Or maybe it’s not Vox who breaks his brain but his benefactor (Lilith or Roo/Eve). It could be during a hypothetical season 2 where Alastor refuses to betray the hotel crew and as punishment she breaks his brain. For irony’s sake let’s say she broadcasts his screams across all of Hell to hear. 

Maybe she removes his vocal chords to pour salt in the wound. Then you just hear a wet gurgling over the airwaves. Maybe Alastor could use recordings of the other hotel residents and previous radio broadcasts to string together a sentence. 

I can totally see Alastor mistaking Rosie for his mom, isn’t that is just a heartbreaking thought. 

He thinks Husk is just a really big kitty cat and tries to pet him and give him cat treats.

Maybe it takes place in the RAM AU. How ironic, the Overlord who destroyed the minds of others has his broken in turn. 

Mmm, imo Alastor is a slightly less fun character to break than Vox since Vox actually has relationships that he doesn't hold at arms length. Also, Al's kind of hard to get a grasp on character-wise since so much of his personality is a performance. Who is he when all that is stripped away? I don't think we have enough information to know yet. Vox has had significantly less screen time, but we've seen his facade crack quite a bit, so it feels easier to guess what he might have going on underneath the shell. That's just my personal take though.

[cyberrat]

91st Batch Of Fics: 12th Fill

Alastor/Vox; Husk/Velvette – Dress Up AU – Velvette gets what she wants. Husk doesn't. Vox has an epiphany. Alastor hates it.

Everything's coming up Alastor's Shadow.

---

Velvette’s face is swimming slightly in front of Husk’s eyes. He isn’t thinking of much of anything, just coasting on the feeling of desperation burning through his veins as he realizes that this is it. She got him hot and bothered and wet and sticky with her delicious little peach and will leave him high and dry.

Her face scrunches up a little in thought, then suddenly she breathes out a soft laugh and pats the cheek she had been scratching. “Awww are you gonna cry? Cause I’m not gonna touch your cute little clitty? Come on. Be a big girl. I can’t go and give out all of the goods at the first date, can I?”

She tilts her head slightly while Husk desperately blinks his eyes, then hectically reaches up and dashes at the tears that actually threaten to spill over. What the actual fuck? Maybe the Love Potion still was running havoc through his system after all.

“You’re so cute,” he hears Velvette croon. When he blinks his eyes back open, she’s stepped back a little and got something in her hand. For one searing hot, panic filled second Husk thinks she has her phone in her hand and is taking pictures of him in his stupid get-up, looking like a fucking whore… but then he realizes that it’s a compact mirror and she is carefully appraising the damage to her make-up.

“Tell you what. If you want you can jerk your cute little clit and I’ll watch you?” she says it with an inflection like she is bored. Husk stares at her, brain not quite computing for a moment what she had said and then flooding him with embarrassment when he realizes that for a long second he actually considered going through with it.

He clenches his teeth together, fingers curling into the edge of his skirt, holding on and just staring at her with defiance. He hopes. Might just be absolutely pathetic because her lips curl into a cruel little smirk, though she doesn’t say anything. At least not immediately.

Husk watches her turn her attention back to the mirror in her hand, carefully touching the edges of her eyes and wiping at the smears of make-up.

Finally she says: “Suit yourself, kitty cat. Stay with me while I clean up a little. You can… calm down. Oh, and-” she extends her hand toward him in such a sharp movement that he feels himself recoiling, thinking she’s going to lash out.

Her mouth curls into a cruel little smirk at that, fingers innocently wiggling. “Give me your phone. I want your number.”

He almost does. He almost fucking slides his phone into her hand like the biggest dumbass in the world. He fumbles it back at the last second, pressing it against his chest, heart thumping fast against his ribcage.

“I’ll tell you the number,” he says in a weak voice. Velvette looks annoyed for a second but she’s still grinning.

“Alright, then. Let’s hear it.”

.o.

“Dragging me into a little side room… how gauche. I can just imagine you doing this with one of your little fan girls after one of your idiotic shows. Disgusting.”

Alastor is stiff backed as he steps into the room. It’s cold and metallic with a wall of screens that are all dark except for a single one showing the room they have just left.

As he lets his gaze wash over it, he sees first the small form of Velvette practically bouncing back through a hallway and following her at a more sedate – dazed – pace, Husker.

His ears flick in irritation. He would make sure Husker would feel his dismay later.

“And yet here you are,” Vox drawls, his voice drawing Alastor’s attention back to him and how he is swaggering toward the single metallic desk in front of the screens. He pulls one of the drawers open and, to Alastor’s reluctant surprise, pulls out a cigar.

Vox lights it, his attention shifting back toward Alastor standing there, hands folded primly behind his back in lieu of clutching at his cane. It is still in Vox’ grasp, yet for some reason he has pity on him and throws it at the other sinner.

Alastor’s eyes narrow. He catches it out of the air, gaze never leaving Vox as he takes a puff from the cigar, thick smoke immediately starting to curl from the hidden vents along his neck. They are fanned out like a shark’s gills, looking delicate and like they would be very sensitive to Alastor sliding his claws underneath and digging into his insides.

Saliva shoots into his mouth and he swallows thickly. He almost loses track of what Vox says next: “If only I had known…”

Alastor frowns. His smile has dwindled down to a tiny, close-lipped uptick in the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowed to distrustful slits. He is having trouble focusing, his body still thrumming with… hunger, thanks to his shadow wriggling behind him, needy and shameless.

“What are you talking about?”

Vox is leaning his hip against the side of the monstrosity of his desk. His claws form a sharp V around the cigar he’s holding, glinting in the light his screen gives off. They look deliciously sharp and Alastor’s shadow trembles for him, pressing against his back, one void black hand slipping to press against the sensitive base of his tail. He startles, almost jumping in place, heart rate skyrocketing.

He knows that Vox has been privy to the whole exchange because his eyes widen, a brief pulse going through his left eye, a single hypnotic ring twisting in toward the pupil before disappearing again.

His manic smile splits open, smoke luxuriously curling out of his mouth this time. It makes him look even more confusingly organic and the shadow nips at the tip of Alastor’s left ear, sending another shudder through his body.

They are no longer squeezing him in between them but he still feels very much trapped by Vox and his traitorous other self.

“If only I had known what a delightful little creature that shadow of yours is,” Vox croons. He sounds so pleased. So utterly tickled – and Alastor hates it. He wants to grind him down into a paste beneath his heel.

“If only I had known that I had it wrong all along,” Vox continues languidly. He pushes off the table and slowly comes closer, the heels of his own shoes succinctly clicking against the floor; a slow, measured beat counteracting Alastor’s rabbit fast heart in his chest.

He stops just an arm’s length away, looking Alastor slowly up and down. “You aren’t its master,” he says slowly, his voice so luxurious and decadent as he says it, that it nearly takes the poison right out of the words. “You are its slave, Alastor. You are not above any of us. All this time, you’ve looked down on everybody as if we were simple filth beneath your feet. Yet here you are… following along so sweet, so submissive because your shadow wills it. Debasing yourself. Making a show. For me.”

Vox’ voice seems to ripple in satisfaction as he says the word ‘show’.

Alastor’s mouth is dry, smile thoroughly wiped off his face. His hands are clutched tightly around the head of his cane, but any power he attempts to summon fizzles out before he can get a grasp on it.

The shadow at his back trembles in a mischievous giggle.

[husk-says-no]

Ugh, Alastor. That smug, over-smiling bastard with a radio voice that sounds like it’s been dragged through a blender full of static and smugness. Walks around like he owns the damn place—and half the people in it. Always grinning like he’s got some grand plan and everyone else is just too dumb to get it. News flash, bucko: nobody’s impressed by your 1920s circus clown energy. You wanna monologue about the "thrill of chaos" or whatever? Go yell at a mirror, maybe then someone’ll actually be listening voluntarily.

He’s like a goddamn walking migraine wrapped in a pinstripe suit. Can’t even have a drink without him floatin’ in like some vintage ghost with a jazz fetish and a superiority complex. I swear, if he calls me "dear friend" one more time, I’m gonna throttle him with his own damn bowtie.

And the way he smiles at me like he knows somethin’ I don’t? Pisses me off. Like—what the hell are you smilin’ for, huh? What's so funny, freakshow? What, you think I’m some charity case you’re fixin’ to redeem or play with? You’re not cute, you’re not clever, and you sure as hell ain’t got me figured out.

…But. I dunno. Sometimes when he’s not talkin’ like he’s narratin’ a goddamn radio drama, he’s—quiet. And weirdly… bearable. Like maybe, maybe there’s a person under all that static and theater. And that’s the real kicker, isn’t it? ‘Cause I hate that I notice. I hate that sometimes I don’t wanna punch his teeth in when he walks in a room. I hate that when he leaves, it’s too quiet.

Tch. Whatever. Not like it means anything. I probably just got brain damage from dealin’ with his voice too long.

[craw-dacious]

The things I did by Lolo-ro fic review

Chapter by chapter, until i got distracted by the story lol.

Still fairly new to marauders but am loving it.

summary review: I truly adored this fic, probably my fave Wolfstar so far. I thought the worldbuilding was fantastic, as well as the characterization of baby Harry. Fairly angsty, but with plenty of fluff to make up for it. The raising Harry idea is becoming one of my favorite tropes, and this fic did an amazing job of weaving parenthood into a world that is still filled with complexities and evil, as well as lives outside of the main characters.

SPOILERS BELOW BEWARE

Chapter One

Again, the aftermath for Remus is getting me

So so so sad, and him believing Sirius innocent  makes it worse

The traitor shit is horrible to deal with emotionally im sure

I am upset to realize just how much remus ignored harry in the books/canon

Like thats ur nephew fr come onnnn

Chapter Two

Aw he’s doing a good job as a dad

This fic is making him out to be very forgetful, fully forgot about both harry and Sirius

The pacing is much more clear in this which I enjoy quite a bit

Cutesy Christmas, cutesy harry

ALSO I LOVED THE HAGRID MOMENT

I do feel like we need to get the Weasleys involved tbh baby Ron and Harry is PEAK

Chap 3

Pls dont let that annoying ass bitch be important, if theyre in trouble bc of this shit ill kms

Shut up Hagrid he needs everything he wants his parents ARE dead brother

Okay actually I like that annoying ass bitch a lot, this is very good

I guess he actually is spoiling him tbf

Ok so he’s actually forgetful as fuck. Forgot Harry’s birthday, forgot about Sirius AGAIN.

Like actually what is going on is his brain damaged

This chapter has been depressing

The fight IN AZKABAN how will this turn into legit wolfstar if they are so mad they fight WHILE SIRIUS IS IMPRISONED

But also he didn’t talk to a single person for 12 years in canon im gonna kms

Marauders is making me realize just how shitty and sad canon was bruh, remus and Sirius were like ALONE, obvie remus did shit and wasn’t a complete waste but its just so SAD

OKAYYYY I TOLD Y’ALL I LOVE A GOOD MOODY MOMENT

Literally obsessed with alastor moody he’s so fucking cool and we BARELY KNEW HIM in the books because of FUCKING CROUCH

This chapter was incredible, good baby harry, good angst, good FIGHT (love romantic arguments, make me nostalgic) (imy [REDACTED] we fought so cutey)

Ok I think I complained earlier about this, but it’s important for there to be conflict and issues when there’s this much trauma. Great plot choice. Also makes it 20x more interesting

Fuck Peter. I fucking hate Peter.

Chapter 4

Ugh stupid muggles messing everything up

Someone should try to kill them all off or something idk they’re getting in the way

But this is shaping up to have some LEGAL ISSUES which I LOVE because im a fucking NERD <33333

Harry is so cute. I actually prefer this to the last baby Harry bc he has sm more personality.

Almost forgot the meat of this chapter omg its good im getting distracted

Sirius and Harry together was a NEED bruh actually so cute

And I talked to you kate about this earlier but remus has been different in other fics and I do kinda like him in this one, he’s more depressed and stressed than normal, but the forgetfulness almost lends itself to aloofness in a way that fits him

I very much appreciated him being so kind to Sirius. While I understand him being pissed at him for thinking he’s a traitor, the man is in Azkaban, like you’ve got to chill out, talk to him about this stuff when you have more than 15 minutes and less dementors

Anyway that scene was nice, I like the idea of their little family

Chappy 5

Good shit again

THIS is the perfect chapter length, not so long I forget what happens but no so short I have to stop reading every five seconds to review

The werewolf prejudice is a big thing in this fic, im not sure how I feel about it. Obviously from an equality standpoint, werewolves should be seen as human. Yet, there is something to the idea that the actual transformed wolf is very dangerous. I’m worried the wolfsbane study will be viewed as Remus “hiding himself” or something like that, when it should be viewed as a solution to the one thing holding werewolves back.

This can’t be compared to real life discrimination. You can’t be like “so you hate minorities” because none of the minorities I know turn into wolves once a month bruh

Anyway, Dumbledore being morally grey-ish, making mistakes but always anti-voldy. He’s such an interesting character. I like his presence in the book as well. Hagrid should come back soon he’s so nice.

Chap 6

Permanent pass <3, so cute. Having to abandon muggle friends? Not cute. Fuck Dumbledore, but only like a little

Not a dumby stan or hater tbh hes just a little silly in both directions

I’m so conflicted on this situation. Yes, it SUCKS that Sirius thought remus was the spy, but it’s not necessarily damning. It’s likely he convinced himself of it because it was the most painful option so it must’ve been the truth. It seems like fear, almost, and jealousy of the wolves over him? Might be over analyzing and overomanticizing but that is what im seeing atm.

The teaching position goes fucking CRAZY man, If remus was my history teacher my life would be GOLDEN

Do you think remus lupin would be a good addition to upper H hall yes or no

Chapter 7

Jesus fuck I forget how sad all this shit is sometimes

To begin with, the teaching position seems great. I do wish Remus would understand that he’s qualified for it

Speaking of teachers, I would love to see who the DADA teacher is, I know its not permanent but still fun

Anyway, I think 7 kids would be the end of me. I love children, and I still relate to Remus far more than Arthur in that scene, there’s actually no fucking way.

Like yes give me a shot I cannot do it, the strong drink joke was a good cover because I am sure its Arthurs greatest desire

Also, love him just dropping interest about muggles, would love to see that chat actually play out but it seems unimportant

But maybe it’ll be how he catches worm tail …

Azkaban visit was good, Sirius is being less racist, and Remus is being kind. Wish they would love each other again already but slow burn wins <3

Also you could just tell that Sirius missed harry, very cute

Chapter 8

Heart hurts, poor Sirius 

I said that remus should be nicer

Chapter 9

Okay, information has been gained

Sorry for short 8 summary

So Sirius FORGOT that he and remus broke up, which is CRAZY

There’s a whole lot of forgetting in this fic im realizing, very relatable

I would actually kill myself

I’m sitting here pondering how I would react in this situation and genuinely tweaking just imagining it

He needs to go break it off with him, he can explain, there’s not really another option for him. If he maintains this it’s going to end poorly. I’m assuming he’s going to do that anyway, as it creates the most drama and is fantastic for the plot

I do think Remus is underestimating the importance of being taken even somewhat seriously by the Wizengamot. I know it’s not what he fully wanted but it’s legitimate progress.

Chapter ten

WHAT DID I SAY HE’S NOT GONNA TELL HIM

This chapter INFURIATED ME

Also im gonna start skipping chapters bc otherwise the review will be long asf

Snape is a piece of work, obviously. Like Remus isn’t being shitty to you and you were a fucking death eater man. Also he despises children which is a red fucking flag

Just let him pet your stupid cat motherfucker

Unless its secretly regulus as an animagus that would be sick asf I saw fan art the other day where he was a cat and it was good

Moving on, im appreciating the slow burn on discovering Peter. Like they easily could have discovered him 3 chapters ago when remus was first there. 

Chapter 11 & 12

The enchanted parchment

Leaving him on delivered is crazy actually

Literally reads exactly like the GHP texts between me and [REDACTED] LMAO

“I guess I’ll talk to you later, assuming you’re at soccer, imy!!���

Actually devastated reading this im going to be honest

Lots of shit going down, forgetting and memory issues are such an interesting plot device, it makes any part of the story unreliable, and confuses the reader just a little bit. It also creates a lot of dramatic irony, which can often be very sad and tragic

Also, order members calling voldy “Voldemort” all high and mighty is a bit strange considering that they all chewed harry out about calling him “He Who Shall Not be Named”

Snape stole the parchment read it and slipped a potion into lupins chocolate that he would give to Sirius to sabotage their relationship

Bc Dumbledore told Snape everything as his extra special spy obviously

Ok so I was wrong it was dementors again. And remus told Sirius about the breakup. Which is, the right thing to do I guess

This is so hard for everybody man, Sirius’ perspective is heartbreaking

At least it shows his chats with dumby, who happens to be the funniest person in this fic

Chapters 13 & 14

Reconciliation came a bit too easily but thats alright, I want them to be happy

The amount I would give to receive a cat for Christmas. I want that so bad bruh.

Ok at least they’re acknowledging how bad Remus is with dates

Okay him being a dog seems helpful, I do feel like that should have been noticed a while ago

Honestly am feeling a bit lost in the romance, long distance pining is not my fave but hopefully Sirius will be freed before long and they can be happy for once.

I just am so curious as to why they broke up, I know thats the point but it just doesn’t make sense

Also ignore my random theories I keep throwing about, I dont actually believe snapes cat is regulus or that Snape poisoned Sirius its just fun

Chapters 15-16

They explained the plan so I know it will go horribly wrong

HELL FUCKING YEAH THEY GOT HIM THAT SNEAKY LITTLE CUNT HATE THAT MOTHERFUCKER FUCK PETER I HATE PETER

Still not happy. I dont know what I expected

2 chapters and they’ll kiss, im expecting a huge fight in chapter 17

Chapters 17-20

Ok this is strange. The relationship dynamic has developed very differently than I thought it would. They really need to figure out this memory I’m sure it all a misunderstanding or some stupid shit like that

Someone thought someone else killed somebody else

Also why is this so mirroring to me and [REDACTED] from like July forward

Distant over text/parchment, not allowed to say I love you, basically only physical, guilt for things I couldn’t remember

Except for the baby and trauma and everything

Last fic was me and remus being the same this time it’s Sirius. When am I going to consume content and not think about [REDACTED] again Im tired of him being in my brain

Chap 21-22

KATE I TOLD YOU NO I LOVE YOU FICS I HATE THIS

I also talked about [redacted] with ppl for like an hour and a half last night it was terrible

Did it again the next night bro why is that rat still in my head

23-24

The memories are throwing me for a loop. On the one hand, everything is devastatingly sad. On the other hand, they’re all being emo and need to get it together

Sirius getting “lost in his memories” is a cool idea though, I’m liking the new magic thats being explored in this fic

I need them to have a huge blowup fight. Like a massive fight that sucks and is terrible. I don’t know how they’d do it but I need it

Also I think I can take one more “oh poor Sirius” memory until I blow my brains out. Big whoop your plan failed and you were insecure about it, I’d reach out to the closest person to blame to. I blamed [REDACTED] for not winning an award at model un, not his fault. Sirius can blame Remus for his plan failing and have a moody moment then move on, trust can be rebuilt.

Last five chapters

Ok everything is happy again and the reunion went FANTASTIC

The one thing I feel like I haven’t commented on enough in this fic is Snape

His character is well done, he’s so mean and bitchy but not like completely evil which is just hilarious, I love his and Remus’s dynamic its very good

I also think his relationship with Harry is funny, and I’m glad it’s not as shitty as it started out.

“Harry, friendly and bright-eyed, took the opportunity of silence to lean onto the counter, put his face right up to the goblin’s, and say, “Meow.”

Remus pulled Harry off the counter, embarrassed, and plopped him on the ground. “Don’t meow at people, love.”

That is actually the silliest cutest thing I’ve ever read in my entire life. Literally would birth a child rn bc of how cute that is. Jesus fucking christ bruh

Can they stop making out in public. Like in front of one other person in public. Its so awk

I KEEP TRYING TO GIVE KUDOS THIS IS LIKE SUGAR BRUH SO SWEET

My criticisms are growing though, there are a few things im concerned about but im gonna finish the story before I discuss

Why can I not escape my Draco phase. One sentence about “the little Malfoy” and harry going on playdates and I RUSH to think about how that changes their school dynamic and how they treat each other and all this shit

Looks like they’re leaving some loose ends on purpose, telling not showing a lot here at the end tbh

I WANT A CHILD HE’S SO CUTE

This is the first time ive actually been obsessed with a child character hes ADORABLE

Gonna read the epilogue before writing my final review, but don’t want to take it in for my review

FINAL REVIEW:

Ok. Done. Having to write this a day after finishing because I fell asleep right after

My favorite parts

ANGST: very well done, miscommunication can sometimes be overdone but I feel like it worked this time. I loved how easily apparent the love that was still there was. 

Humor: This fic made me laugh out loud multiple times. This was mostly Harry, but there were a couple of moments from the doctor guy and Arthur that made me giggle

CHILD: literally have never seen a child portrayal that was this good. Like literally from beginning to end it was good. I’m sure some people would read this fic and say 2 yo harry is too advanced, but he’s so bright and I feel like growing up with Remus would breed him to be a talker. The accuracy of the 8 yo and 11 yo at the end was good as well, it ticks me off when people fuck up ages of a child, especially one so parenting-focused as this

Depth of world building: I could truly see this world, like I understood the flat, I understood the weasleys, I understood the dorm at Hogwarts. The scene at their graves, everything was great.

Now my weaknesses

Some underdeveloped plots

Peter: they brought up having to talk to him, made it a big deal with getting a memory and then just abandoned it and said “remus had the perfect memory.” Then, the memory was SO MUNDANE. I’m sure the author just fucked up and had to figure something out, which is fine, just was a little dissapointing.

Poison: this is another where I think the plot just ran away from the author, but I was expecting something more than “Sirius asked them to fix it and they did”

Some(?) characterizations

Remus was perfect. Sirius was a little too nice, he’s volatile and little bitt crazy and I got less of that in this fic. Sometimes it was perfect. This isn’t really a criticism, more “it could be a little better”

Overall: 8.3/10

I truly adored this fic, probably my fave wolfstar so far. However, I know this is just because I love children and loved baby harry so much, so my rating is attempting to be unbiased.

[firecrackerhh]

…already made a post talking about this but for reiteration does it never occur to these troglodytes that perhaps Viv is just recognizing her fandom’s fucking intelligence and the real problem is that you fucking tards are too brain damaged to fucking realize how stories fucking work?

Alastor doesn’t even practice Vodun anymore! I’m pretty sure his power comes from Roo, not from an actual fucking religion, can you fucking self righteous assholes stop acting offended on behalf of a religion y’all don’t even fucking care about?

I know these people don’t. I’m betting Vodun isn’t even in his backstory anymore, if you’re still pissy over fucking symbols I think there’s more important shit you can care about, I don’t think any deity actually gives a fuck that bad, as long as you aren’t using said religion for harm, which she is not. 

Showing only a quarter of a pentagram isn’t gonna summon a demon, and a veve by itself is meaningless unless you like…do something with it.

I don’t think the Lwa give a single shit about cartoons, and they sure af don’t care if their symbology is being used/edited for not harmful means.

They have bigger shit to worry about. It’s like people getting mad when other people don’t care about the Abrahamic God, like I don’t think God cares what you believe as long as you’re a good person. He has more important shit to care about, I’m begging you to find actual problems.

Stop fighting on a God’s behalf, it’s kinda pathetic actually. They don’t need you to defend them.

It’s a fucking cartoon, none of this shit is real, shut the fuck up.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Sands #3 (1/7/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Alastor @dontasktheradiodemon​ gets caught watching Sir Pentious @usedhearts​ (a.k.a. Pentell (a.k.a. Telly)) swim in the ocean, and is invited to check out a nearby island with him to look at a sea serpent. Alastor spends the trip feeling hella gay toward Sir Pentious. Sir Pentious spends the trip feeling steadily increasingly gay toward Alastor. Both of them spend the trip clinging to each other at every opportunity and thinking "wow I hope he doesn't think it's weird how much I'm clinging to him.” Sir Pentious gets dejected over his odds of conquering Hell and Alastor reassures him that he'll make it eventually, Alastor gets hurt over the suggestion that he wants people to fear him and Sir Pentious reassures him that he isn't afraid, they both get unusually vulnerable and talk about their feelings while wearing almost nothing, it's beautiful stuff.

Folks, if you’re part of the crowd that’s following this blog because you like the gay shit: here’s some prime gay shit.

Sir Pentious

There he was, swimming in a warm sea at last. It felt so good to finally be in the sea again, though he'd never properly swam in this body, it came so naturally to him. Twisting and turning in the water, he breached, in a similar way to certain animated movie about a mermaid.

Alastor

And there Alastor was, nowhere near the sea at all, hanging out in the library sitting at a window that *definitely coincidentally and not at all intentionally* had a great view of the spot where Sir Pentious had chosen to swim. He was there to read. He'd grabbed a book in a human language to prove it.

That didn't explain why he was leaning halfway out the window with his elbows on the windowsill instead of reading, but no doubt he had a perfectly logical explanation that had nothing to do with the snake that just so happened to be swimming below.

Sir Pentious

He dived again, slicing through the clear water with intent. He didn't surface again until his lungs burned for air-- and that took a lot longer nowadays than when he was alive.

He gasped when he surfaced, and glanced around, making sure he hadn't gone too far. Nope, there was the mansion right there-- and who was that watching? He squinted, shading his eyes (the ones on his face) with a hand.

"Oh! Alastor! Hello!" He shouted, waving an arm when he recognized the Radio Demon that was actually nice to him. "Alastor, it's me, Sir Pentious--" The instant he said it he realized how confusing that might be. "The other one! The one who gave you the zebra!" Yes, that would clear things up certainly.

Alastor

When Sir Pentious shielded his eyes and waved, Alastor jerked upright in alarm. He banged his head on the window frame. *Ow.* An alien song played as he accidentally jumped to another station.

He shook his head to clear it. Play it cool. Sir Pentious didn't suspect anything yet. Alastor stood up, pretending he'd just been leaning out the window to get a better view of the swimmer. "Oh, hello! Sea Serpent-ious!" (His voice sounded a lot closer to Sir Pentious than it actually was. Don't worry about it. Probably a Radio Demon thing.) "How's the water?"

Sir Pentious

The smile on his face could probably be seen from space it was so big. He still waved at Alastor, but now in a beckoning gesture.

"It's wonderful! Come down here and join me, so we don't have to shout!"

Alastor

"Okay, I'll be right down." He stepped back from the window and into the shadows of the library.

And then he was on the beach. How did he get there? Did anyone see how he actually arrived? No? Don't worry about it, it's probably fine.

Sir Pentious

Telly slithered through the water to it's edge. He didn't come all the way out though-- that sand was far to irritating to tempt it right now. He waved still, though, as he saw Alastor approach.

"I had been wondering where you were! I haven't seen you in a good small while. How are you?"

Alastor

"Oh, I've been all over the place! The kitchen, exploring the grounds, checking out the broadcasting equipment in the tower, the kitchen again..." He laughed. "What about you—been swimming and sunning the whole time?"

Sir Pentious

"Just about." He laughed, coiling to rest his arms on his tail. "I've never been in an ocean this warm before, I want to enjoy every second of it." He sat up and gasped.

"Oh! I've been catching fish, too, and eating them. There are quite a lot of tasty ones here."

Alastor

"Have you!" Alastor's eyes lit up. "Well, toss a few of your catches my way! I've been cooking with the kitchen's supplies, but fresh fish would be even better!"

Sir Pentious

"Oh well, I'm not sure if they'd be good for anyone but me and Sir Pentious to eat, considering our venom." He tapped his chin a moment. "You know, I'm not even sure we _have_ the same venom!"

He shrugged before reaching a hand towards Alastor. "Come closer, you're still much too far away."

Alastor

"It's worth checking!" He's stuck worse things in his mouth.

"What, and get my good clothes soaked?" His "good clothes" that were tattered to hell around the hems.

Sir Pentious

Telly huffed and rolled his eyes (all of them) and gesture to the top of his coils, which were well out of the water.

"Sit here then. You won't get wet there, I'm too far into the shallows for you to be reached." Oh and there comes the Snake Eyes, he is pouting!

Alastor

Hear that sound? That's the sound of Alastor's brain breaking. This is a trap. Or a prank. Or somebody shot his brains out and he's hallucinating as his skull puts itself back together. Please hold while his ability to think boots back up.

He smiled brightly. "Sure! Sounds practical!" He waited for the surf to wash out as much as it would, then bounded across the space between them with a couple of quick splashing steps. He landed more heavily than he'd intended on Sir Pentious in his haste to pull his shoes out of the water. "Very obliging of you!" His pants cuffs were wet. He tried to squeeze them out, then polished his shoes dry with his sleeves.

Sir Pentious

Telly only tilted his head as he waited, and then his smile returned when Alastor began his little splashing dance over. The landing was a little rough, but it didn't hurt, and now that Alastor was seated, he got the snake's full attention.

"That's much better, now it doesn't feel like we're separated onto land and sea by fate!" He laughed, leaning down to resume his posture of arms on his coils. Telly stared up at Alastor, his tongue flicking out to sniff him. "Can't you just magically dry yourself? Why so worried about the water?"

Alastor

"Sure, I can dry it off—but the sea salt remains. It'll damage the fabric." And Alastor's poor frayed clothes sure couldn't take extra damage. "Plus, it'll destroy animal hides if you let it! These shoes are genuine deer skin, it's next to impossible to get that in Hell these days! And all that aside, who wants salt crusted in your leg hair?"

He turned his smile on Sir Pentious. "So I'll be staying *right* here, thank you!"

Sir Pentious

Another huff, but then a sly look came across Telly's face.

"Oh, woe! It's too bad that you are so concerned for your clothing! Here I was about to whisk you away to a small island I discovered nearer to where the Sea Serpent has decided to lounge! So much for Telly and Alastor's great island adventure!"

During his speech, he'd flipped himself, dramatically putting the back of his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. He cracked one open to look at Alastor and check if it was working, before he snapped it shut again.

Alastor

Oh, he had Alastor's full attention now—and not just because of the theatrics, which got a laugh from him. Sea serpent, huh?

"Oh, *come* now!" He leaned forward to slide an arm around Sir Pentious's shoulders and rescue him from his swoon. "As if I would pass up on an *island adventure!*" He snapped his fingers, and his clothing immediately switched out for a bathing suit. Apparently he could have done that the whole time.

It wasn't until his sleeves disappeared and the texture of fabric under his arm was replaced by smooth, wet scales that he registered the fact that Sir Pentious wasn't wearing a thing but a bathing cap. It hadn't seemed significant a moment ago. Of course he was naked from the waist down, he always was; of course he was naked from the waist up, that was the style in masculine bathing attire these days; and so it took until right that moment for him to register that he was sitting, half undressed himself, upon an utterly naked snake. And didn't he look so lovely and glistening.

He snapped his gaze away from Sir Pentious, scanning the horizon. "So! Where is this mysterious island near the legendary beast?"

Sir Pentious

Said bathing cap blinked at him with one big eye, the usual grin Hattie wore gone in this shape. But the eye was still there! Yes indeed, Hattie had turned himself into a swimming cap, just for this.

Telly, meanwhile, perked up, tongue flicking as Alastor swapped clothing-- and he could almost smell the magic as he did. Oo, tingly. He turned and pointed a ways off, a little spit of an island, with a few plants and rocks.

"It's over there! It doesn't take me too long to swim to, even if I stay on the surface, so it shouldn't take us long!" He turned to beam back at Alastor. "It'd be best to hold on to my waist-- don't want you slipping off while I swim, and I'll keep my upper body out of the water."

Alastor

Don't think about wrapping an arm securely around Sir Pentious's waist while drifting with him beneath the waves. Don't. Do not think about it. "Oh, don't worry about sticking to the surface! Drag me as deep as you want, I don't need to breathe. If we get separated, I can get myself back up to the light, never you fear."

Sir Pentious

"You don't?" His head titled, quizically. "That's interesting! I do. Hm! Well, we can dive then-- it's really lovely under there, but I'm not sure if your eyes will be alright with the salt water. Mine have waterlidsss, ssso I can sssee everything."

He gave a little shrug and uncoiled himself, grabbing Alastor by the arm to make sure he didn't slip off. "I'd really rather you hold on to me, though, I swim fairly fast!"

Alastor

"Not until I need to talk! Which, truth be told, puts a pretty solid restriction on how long I can handle not breathing, hah!" He rapped his knuckles against his chest, "It's almost all radio parts in here."

As Sir Pentious uncoiled, Alastor got to his feet, letting the water wash over his legs. After a moment of hesitation, he said, "All right. It will probably be more secure." A pause. "... Right now?"

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed. "Sure it's all right to get you wet, then? Don't want to destroy any delicate machinery!"

He uncoiled full and stretched out, patting the part of his tail right behind his torso. "Yes, right now! Hop on, I want to get out there and see the Sea Serpent again!"

Alastor

"As long as I keep my breath held!"

Oh, he was supposed to sit on him, too? Gulp. "Ohh-kay." He took a seat, wrapped his arms around Sir Pentious's waist, and tried to just hover near his back rather than give into the urge to press his cheek to Sir Pentious's spine.

Sir Pentious

He could see Alastor get on through his body eyes, and snorted at how delicately he sat. "Come now, I'm not going to break! Hold tighter, like this--" He took Alastor's wrists and tugged him forward, and then wrapped on of Alastor's hands around the opposite wrist.

"There! Keep that grip locked, that should keep you secure." Telly turned and began to slither away from the shore, toward the island. "I'll stay on the surface until we get deep enough that I can dive. It's a very pretty sight, I hope you're able to see at least some of it!"

Alastor

He pressed flat against Sir Pentious's back. *Oh.* Something schmaltzy tried to start playing; he forcibly killed it in the first few notes. "I can keep my eyes open underwater. You worry about the swimming, I'll focus on sightseeing!"

Sir Pentious

"All right!" He laughed again, and his slithering picked up speed, getting them into deeper water. Once they were far enough out he called over his shoulder.

"On the count of three, take a big breath!" His grin widened as he started to count. "One! Two! Three!" And there he went, diving down and down and down.

Alastor

At the end of the countdown, Alastor immediately started playing "Call to the Post"—and immediately stopped again as they dove underwater.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut the first few seconds as they dove underwater, then forced one to squint open. He'd remembered that the first few moments after opening your eyes underwater, it would sting; but he'd forgotten what the sting felt like over the decades. When had he last been in an ocean? Nearly a century ago?

He slowly opened his other eye, clinging tightly to Sir Pentious.

Sir Pentious

Telly swam fast, weaving between and around large pieces of coral. His passing startled fish and a myriad of other creatures, all fleeing for cover as he swam. His eyes kept a good look out for anything larger that might threaten, but luckily didn't spot anything dangerous. After a good ten minutes underwater, he headed for the surface, breaching and taking a long, deep breath.

He put his hand over Alastor's, giving it a little squeeze as he asked. "You all right back there? Nothing broken, nothing drenched beyond repair?"

Alastor

The view was vaguely blurry, but he kept his eyes open for it all the same, watching in fascination as the underwater scene went by. He almost wanted to stop so he could squint more closely at the passing view...

... but he was pressed so close to Sir Pentious that he could feel the way his muscles moved as he swam, and he wasn’t about to give that up for anything.

They’d been on the surface for several seconds before he remembered he could take a breath, too. “Everything’s watertight and shipshape, cap’n!” He automatically squeezed Sir Pentious’s hand back. “Say, are you sure *you* need to breathe? How long were we down there?”

Sir Pentious

"My lungs can expand and are larger than a human's and I can hold my breath for a good, long while. But yes, I do need to breathe, I feel it in how my lungs burn after a while." He looked around, locating the island again. It wasn't far now, he wouldn't even need to dive again. Telly turned toward it and started swimming again. His hand, however, didn't move from its place over Alastor's.

"Oh, did you hear? Valera came up with a nickname for me." He grinned. "Telly! Since I can't be 'Penny' or that would be even more confusing, she used the end of my name instead. Isn't it cute? I like it."

Alastor

“*Telly?* Telly. Huh. You like the sound of it?”” He mentally tried the sound of it out a couple of times. “Well... most of the time I’m not a big fan of the telly—but for you I think I’d make an exception.”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed, a loud cackle, as he swam through the shallows and onto the small island.

"Oh yes, telly, I get it! It's what they call the television in England now! I hadn't even caught that." He slid all the way up onto the sand this time and then released Alastor's hand.

"Here we are, time to disembark the SS Pentious!"

Alastor

He was dimly aware of the water level around him dropping, but he didn’t fully register the fact that they were *on land* until his hooves were dragging in the sand. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to keep clinging until the sea water evaporated and the sea salt cemented their skin together and they got all gross and crusty. And then another five minutes.

But that would raise questions, wouldn’t it.

He let go and stood up. “Best cruise I’ve ever been on. Granted, it’s the *only* cruise I’ve ever been on, but...”

Sir Pentious

Telly had been about to answer, he truly had been, until he turned around enough to get a good look at Alastor-- and nearly burst into laughter. The giggles were bubbling up and he couldn't contain the cackle that rose and flung itself out.

"Oh, Alastor! Oh, I'm so sorry, but you look--! Well, honestly, you look a bit like a drowned rat." His snickering kept up as he came closer. "Here let me help..."

He started fussing over him, brushing Alastor's hair out his face and getting some of the water off it-- and then he was holding Alastor's face in his hands. He froze like that for a good few seconds, his brain short circuiting, and then quickly pulled away, slithering further onto the island. God, he was glad he couldn't blush.

"Ah, um, the Sea Serpent should be on the far side! Not much of a trek, should only take a minute or two."

Alastor

"Or a drowned deer?" He laughed and made a halfhearted attempt to smooth his bangs out. "A soggy stag? A bedraggled buck?"

He clasped his hands behind his back and patiently let Sir Pentious fuss over his hair... until they made eye contact. And Alastor found himself staring, his face in Sir Pentious's hands, and wow Sir Pentious's eyes really were dazzling in full sunlight like this, and it would be so easy to reach up and take Sir Pentious's face in return...

And then the moment ended. How long had he been staring? Oh God. He quickly looked away.

"Wonderful! What's the best way to approach it, around the shore or straight across the island?" Totally normal, nothing happened.

Sir Pentious

"Through the island should work, the Sea Serpent stays a little ways off shore, probably to not beach itself."

He stayed turned away until he could get his breathing and heart rate under control, before turning back to smile at Alastor. He really was still excited and he hoped that showed in his smile.

"These plants are fascinating-- blue instead of green, it's so curious!"

Alastor

Alastor glanced over JUST long enough to register that smile and then had to look away again. Thank God for weird-colored plants that gave him an excuse to look at something other than Sir Pentious. "You know—I hadn't even registered them. I suppose I just brushed it off as 'right, this is the living world, where things come in more colors than red.' I wonder what difference their all being blue makes?" He watched a few more plants as they passed. "Granted, I don't know what difference being green makes either, but."

Sir Pentious

Telly turned his head to look at Alastor again, tilting it at his statement.

"Do you not know why plants are green on Earth?" He asked, frowning for a split second-- before grinning and taking a breath, ready to teach Alastor a little.

"Plants on earth have chlorophyll in their cells! It's what allows them to photosynthesis! They take in mostly blue and red spectrum lights, but reflects green spectrum light, which is why they look green! Which makes me wonder if these plants have a similar element to their structure, but one that reflects blue and instead absorbs green!" He tapped his chin. "I wonder if Valera would allow me to take some home to study..."

Alastor

Alastor blinked and laughed a little. "Hold on, hold on! Plants can synthesize photos because they've got chloroform in their cells, that stuff that knocks you out—but it makes it reflect light but only if that light's green—say, if it's absorbing red and blue light, then shouldn't it be turning the leaves red and blue?" He gazed at a passing plant critically. "I've never seen a plant synthesize a photo. I'm pretty sure you need a camera for that." Telly you toss out these terms like they're gonna make sense to someone who doesn't know what they mean,

"Who needs permission? Do they own every leaf on the planet?" Alastor leaned over, plucked a stem with a cluster of leaves off of a nearby shrub, and with a flourish tucked it away in another dimension. He winked at Sir Pentious.

Sir Pentious

There's a lot of blinking and then Telly's laughing as well, loud and long.

"No! None of that is right, Alastor! It's chloro_phyll_.  It's Greek, from _khloros_ which means 'pale green' and _phyllon_ which means 'leaf'. Photosynthesis is how plants eat! They absorb sunlight and carbon dioxide from the air, along with water from their roots, and use the process of photosynthesis to create nutrients. I'm not a botanist, so I don't know all the ins and outs of the process, but that's how they live!

"And as for the light, the colors we see are actually the wavelengths of light that are reflected instead of what is absorbed. Like my scales are black, yes? This is because they absorbs all the wavelengths of light and reflect none, thus they appear black, whereas my belly scales are yellow to the eye because they absorb all the other wavelengths except yellow! Wavelengths of color in light is why you can take a prism and get sunlight to refract into a rainbow! The prism separates the wavelengths!"

He's very excited about being able to babble about random science things, can you tell, Alastor? Very excited indeed.

Alastor

He's just gonna be silent a moment as he absorbs multiple science lessons he probably zoned out for at age twelve. It's a lot easier to listen now than when he was twelve: his current teacher is much more excited about the topic and much more enjoyable to listen to.

At the end, he's got one takeaway: "So plants are performing alchemy." Listen. If turning sunlight and water into nutrients isn't alchemy, Alastor doesn't know what is.

Sir Pentious

Again, Telly pauses to process what Alastor's saying. He feels like this may become a habit. His head tilts as he mulls it over.

"Hm, I suppose so! Taking things and turning them into other things _is_ basic alchemy! Maybe that is why plants are used in many magical things? That's more your area than mine, I suppose." He realized then that they had stopped moving to have this little chat, and started slithering again.

Alastor

"Personally I suspect it's because they're everywhere, they're edible, and they don't fight back! If you need a potion ingredient that's tied to the moon and offers healing and protection, eucalyptus is easier to get and easier to swallow than a chunk of silver. But maybe that's why they're so magical in the first place?" He rolled his eyes up at the sky as he thought. "I don't remember if any major occultists discussed why so many plants are inherently magical. It's been the better part of a century since I've had all my texts."

Sir Pentious

"There are magical texts that aren't already in Hell?" He slithered closer, head titled, curious.

"I would've thought everything and more would already be down here-- or rather, there! What are you missing, perhaps it is something my universe's counterpart has and he would lend to you?"

Alastor

"Oh, just the more high-level stuff—Greek occult philosophy, sixteenth century theoretical texts, that sort of thing. The material that's more intellectual than practical. Hell has is own magical scholars, who needs to smuggle in outdated works by mortal occultists who have only been working with magic a fraction as long?" He shrugged. "And much of it isn't relevant at all to doing magic in Hell! Take the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, for instance! A list of sixty-nine of Hell's most important demons—members of the nobility one and all—and their areas of speciality, their personalities, their ranks and duties... An invaluable resource when you're a mortal getting into demon bargaining! Less useful when you're in Hell and every subway newsstand carries cheap booklets listing all of the hundreds of members of Hell's noble hierarchy, and the current bestseller list includes an unauthorized biography of Paimon. Who needs to risk summoning a duke to plea with him to kill someone on your behalf if you can phone an imp to do the same job for a few hundred bucks?"

Sir Pentious

Telly listened attentively, even if most of it flew over his head-- except the bits about the heirarchy of demons, he knew that well. And just like that his brain is shooting off on a tangent.

"Do you know which Overlords you killed during your massacre? I know you toppled a lot, but I wonder if any of them were known to you before you died, from research! Or were they all new faces to you?"

Alastor

"Want me to tell you a little secret?" He flung an arm around Sir Pentious's shoulders and leaned in close, conspiratorially. "I actually didn't kill *any* of them. It's not like I arrived in Hell armed with an angelic spear! No, all I did was thrash them around a bit! A bit of mangling and dismemberment, all harmless fun, really." He smirked slyly. "It's their underlings and rivals that did them in while they were vulnerable. All I did was present an opportunity."

Alastor let go and drifted back to his original distance. "But no, I didn't know any of them. All my dealings had been with true demons—hellborn infernals and fallen celestials—since those are the only denizens of Hell that past occultists have been able to find contact information for. After all, sinners can't be summoned out of their prison! And, of course, all the overlords I toppled were sinners, not the demons I'd been dealing with before."

Sir Pentious

When Alastor came in close, Telly's tongue couldn't help but blelele a little. He smelt like the sea-- probably because of their little swim-- and boy, did that make his heart race.

He shook his head, clearing away the twitterpatted thoughts that flew through it, and concentrated on what he said.

"Really? I could have sword your counterpart in my universe did kill some Hellborn! Perhaps that's a difference between you and he? Hm! Very interesting."

Alastor

"Kill *hellborn* overlords?" Alastor laughed in disbelief. "Not unless some imps managed to climb the ranks and got caught in the crossfire! Or he landed a lucky shot, I suppose. I suppose he could have gotten some middling-ranked hellborn demons. But Hellish *nobility*—the kind of demons who make it into mortal realm grimoires—are universally ranked above sinners for a reason. The best magic we've ever managed doesn't come anywhere near what they were *created* already capable of."

Alastor shook his head. "No, no, fighting a native demon with magic is like fighting an inferno with a matchstick. When a human manages to start toppling nobles, it won't be by trying to use their own weapons against them. It will be by using a tool they can never match: human invention."

A side glance at Sir Pentious. Hey there, human inventor.

Sir Pentious

He merely nodded along with Alastor's words until the end, and it took him a few moments for that last phrase to click.

"Oh! Oh, you...you mean me?" He pointed at himself, blinking rather owlishly.

"Well, I do have ideas! A lot of them, but none that have come to fruition yet, and I've had over a hundred years to test them!" He sighed and turned to look out through the plants, back towards the ocean.

"Sometimes I think it will be impossible for me to conquer Hell-- considering how much time I've already spent, not to mention how everyone thinks of me. Even if I make a weapon that can kill Hellborn Princes and such, who's to say if I'll be able to make use of it before one extermination or another gets me? It's honestly a miracle I've lasted this long..."

Alastor

Alastor scoffed. "A *mere century!* It took humanity thousands upon thousands of years to create vaccines, to invent the radio, to reach the moon... you think a human ought to be able to usurp the second most powerful entity in the universe in *one century*?"

Alastor elbowed Sir Pentious. "You survived *this* many exterminations, which is more than we can say for sinners a fraction of your age—and now you've got an escape route so you never have to face another extermination. Just one more step up for you."

Sir Pentious

His hood twitches at the elbow and he almost hisses-- instinct when his head starts to turn south, but he gets it under control before he does it. Instead his tongue just sticks out and stays there for a bit longer than normal.

"Yes, but it only took me half a decade to create my airship! I should be further along than I am, I should be better...." He slumped down, his tail coiling around him as he hunkered down. His arms laying across the top, he buried his face in them.

"It'sss ssso frussstrating! I want to be sssso much further in my planssss, in my relationsssshipssss, in my....well, not life, but unlife, I sssupossse! But I'm not! It'ssss like I can ssssee the end perfectly in my mind, but the path there issss murky and dark." His breath hitched a moment, but he held back any tears. He wouldn't cry, not now. He _wouldn't._

"I want it all sssso badly, Alasssstor...."

Alastor

Alastor stopped when Sir Pentious plopped down. After a moment of hesitation, he knelt down next to him. "I know you do." Alastor tentatively slid an arm around his shoulders. "And I believe, with every fiber in my dead heart, that you *will* have it all. Hell throws up every blockade it can to try to slow down its prisoners' progress—but by God, we're still *humans,* and that means we're stubborn sonsa." He offered an encouraging smile. "Hell can delay you, but it can't stop you forever—just as long as you keep moving toward the end."

Sir Pentious

The arm around him was a comfort, and slowly, he uncoiled-- if only to get his arms around Alastor in a hug. He clung tight to him, face pressed against his shoulder, and stayed there, taking a few deep breaths to help calm down-- the advice from Penny helping a lot.

"Thank you, Alassstor," He said at last, holding him tight still. "Thank you for your ssssupport, for being a....a good friend." Telly laughed softly, and a bit bitterly.

"I mussst sssseem so erratic and volatile, getting all emotional at the drop of a hat. I'm ssssorry."

Alastor

Alastor hugged back, one arm just as tight around Sir Pentious's waist and the other rubbing his back. "You've got a lot to *be* emotional about. You've been in this fight a long time. I apologize for dragging it all back up."

Sir Pentious

"No, no, I sssstarted usss talking about Overlordsss and the like. It'sss my fault." He sighed, and seemed for all intents and purposes, to have calmed down. But he didn't release Alastor, instead he just continued to hug and hold him. It was so nice, especially for a snake as touch starved as Telly. And despite being about as huggable as a bundle of twigs tied together, it was _nice_ hugging Alastor. He liked it, quite a lot.

Alastor

"We'll split the responsibility." Alastor wasn't about to be the one to let go. He stopped rubbing so he could fully slide his arms around Sir Pentious and hold him tight. His eyes slid shut. Oh, this was nice, could he stay here.

Sir Pentious

It took a good, full minute for Telly's brain to start up the 'you're being weird, you're hugging for too long' bell, and he was first to pull away. He cleared his throat, thankful for the second time that day, that he couldn't blush.

"Well, ah....ssshall we continue to the Ssssea Ssserpent?"

Alastor

Sir Pentious was pulling back. Alastor's being weird, he's hugging for too long. "Yes! Of course! Back to our main program." He quickly got back on his hooves.

Sir Pentious

And that's when Telly finally noticed the hooves. Wide eyes and tongue sticking out, he leaned down to get a better look. "Oh! I didn't notice before! You have actual hooves! And here I thought it was just a design choice to have hoof prints on the bottom of your shoes!"

Alastor

"Oh! Yes, I do!" He held one leg out, tilting his foot to show off the hoof. "The hoof prints are actually part of the shoe brand—Clove & Fawn cater to sinners with hooves. Custom-made shoes. Best you'll find in Pentagram City." He glanced at Sir Pentious's tail. "Not that you do much shoe shopping!"

Sir Pentious

He laughed and nodded. "It's true! No use for shoes with this!" He willed the end of his tail.

"I suppose they feel like your average hoof then, hm?"

Alastor

"Want to see?" He put one hand on Sir Pentious's shoulder for balance and held his ankle up with the other hand. "Feels the same as any hoof I ever touched."

Sir Pentious

He blinked but then nodded, reaching to run his fingers over the hoof. Yep, definitely a hoof. Though it did feel different-- he'd only ever touched a horse's hoof before.

"It's rough, but not as hard as I thought."

Alastor

“And it’s harder on the outside and softer on the bottom! I haven’t the foggiest idea how that works.” He held still while he was examined. It was like having one of his teeth tapped or his hair tugged: he could feel that he was being touched, but couldn’t feel the touch itself.

Sir Pentious

"Oh! That is curious-- you'd think it would be harder on the bottom, since that is where you walk!" He gave it a few more pokes before he straightens back up. He made sure, however, that Alastor was still steady with a hand on his arm, that slid down to holding his hand only he was fully upright again.

"We should be close to the other side of the island, the Sea Serpent should be basking...."

Alastor

Were they holding hands now? *They were holding hands now.* Wow.

“Oh, *basking!*” The studio audience “oooh”ed appreciatively. “I thought we were going to have to watch it from the shore! Lead the way!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, we will! It will likely be basking out by the rocks in the deeper water! It wouldn't want to come to close to the shallows, it is rather large." He chuckled, slithering fast now, tugging Alastor along.

Alastor

And Alastor followed along eagerly! “Not an amphibious serpent, I take it.”

Sir Pentious

A hissing laugh escaped him and he shook his head. "No, not at all! He is quite locked to the sea, I'm afraid."

And there they were, at last, at the edge of the island-- it felt like eons since they landed, with all they'd talked about, but here they were. And there was the Sea Serpent, just where Telly expected it. Seemed like he already knew its routine better than it did.

Alastor

Alastor’s eyes widened at the sight of the serpent. An impressed whistle sound played. “Now, isn’t that *something!* It just goes on forever, doesn’t it?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes! And look how it glistens in the light! It's such a sight, it almost makes me not want to return to Hell, it's so beautiful." Telly squeezed Alastor's hand and grinned.

Alastor

“Yes, indeed! I can’t think of a sight prettier than the way sunlight shines on a serpent’s scales right after a good swim.”

... That sure was a series of words that just came out of Alastor’s mouth, wasn’t it. *He was looking at the sea serpent. Don’t look at him he’s looking at the monster.*

Sir Pentious

That sure was a series of words that Telly just heard. His brain seemed to leave him for a good moment or two as it chewed on that, like a dog given a bone retreating to its bed to gnaw. Once again, he is thankful he can't blush. But also why should he be blushing, Alastor was clearly talking about the creature in front of them! Definitely not the snake right beside him, holding his hand and taking in this majestic sight with him!

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Yes. Agreed. Very....very pretty." And here he'd called Alastor a drowned rat earlier-- how rude of him...

Alastor

Alastor died eight separate times in the length of that awkward silence.

He wasn’t sure whether not being immediately called out was a blessing or just prolonging the torture. Either way, he was going to pretend nothing had happened. “And what lovely colors it has!” He gestured extravagantly at the serpent. “Absolutely extraordinary! Truly a majestic beast, isn’t it!”

Sir Pentious

Oh good, they're back on the topic of the actual Sea Serpent. "Yes, it is! I've come out here a number of times to look at it, it's glorious!"

He paused and tilted his head. "I do wonder what it's scales would look like back in Hell, since the light there is a considerably darker red!"

Alastor

“Good question! Not as sparkly, I’d imagine!” A pause as he thought. “Of course—there’s one way to find out for sure...”

Sir Pentious

Telly looked over at him, tilting his head. "What way?"

Alastor

“Why—bringing its hide back to Hell, of course!” Oh, he was starting to scheme now. “But I suppose we aren’t armed to bring down something like that, are we?”

Sir Pentious

"No, we're not, I didn't even bring any of my armaments!" He huffed a bit. "Now you've got me thinking about it, and I would love to have it's hide..."

Alastor

"What a shame." The scheming kicked into high gear. "Oh well! I'm sure there will be future opportunities! Next year, if nothing else."

Sir Pentious

"Yes, perhaps next year." He did look a bit disappointed at he turned towards Alastor. "Ready to head back?"

Alastor

No. He wanted to keep holding hands on the beach. Maybe recreate the “Wicked Game” music video. Without the implied beach sex but with the passionate near-naked cuddling and the singing about unexpected but irresistible longing.

“Ready whenever you are!”

Sir Pentious

Well, he'll at least one of those things! The hand holding is still happening, even as Telly turns to slither back towards the far side of the island.

"We could also swim around more, if you like! I like just being around you, Alastor." As soon as he said it, his brain lit up with 'oh no, oh no, that was that too much?' and he kept his face eyes away from Alastor's face. Don't let him see the embarrassment.

Alastor

If they weren’t holding hands Alastor would have floated straight off the ground. “I like being around you, too!” Suave radio host who? Right now he’s just gushing giddily. Look at that gleeful smile.

Sir Pentious

At the return of the sentiment, his head turned and his eyes blinked. Well! That was good to know. He smiled back.

"We could also just stay here a bit? Or sit down by the water. Don't have to leave....right away..."

Alastor

The ghost of Chris Isaak is smiling down on them. “Actually, that sounds perfectly pleasant! Why rush back to shore? What’s over there, *sand?* We’ve got plenty of that right here!”

Sir Pentious

He laughed, nodding a bit. "Exactly! Plenty of sand and water here!"

Telly slithered over to where the water lapped up, and coiled like he had before, his hand still holding Alastor's. "Here we go, a perfect spot."

Alastor

Was that an invitation to sit on the coils again? He was going to treat it like it was. And if he was wrong... well, it was a simple misunderstanding, nobody could fault him for that but himself.

Sir Pentious

It wasn't, but Telly is absolutely not going to mind him sitting back on the coils. In fact, Alastor's going to get an arm around his waist and a chin on his shoulder, and a little bit of purring.

Alastor

He gladly returned the embrace, leaning a little against Sir Pentious as he did. Perfect position to admire the sea serpent from. Yeah, that was his priority here.

Sir Pentious

And out comes the tongue again, a little blelelel near Alastor's cheek. Sure hope he doesn't mind that, little tickling sniff.

Alastor

He doesn’t mind it in the SLIGHTEST. “I probably smell like pure salt right now, don’t I?”

Sir Pentious

"There is salt, yes, but it mixed with your natural scent, and it smells quite nice." Nice enough to earn another few flicks.

Alastor

“‘Nice’?” He laughed in surprise. “Me? *Really?*” Thank goodness he’d showered before this trip. But nobody ever said he smelled *nice.* He was, at best, tolerable and unnoticeable.

Sir Pentious

"Yes. I've always liked the smell of the sea, so smelling on you is nice." That was weird! His brain screamed and he cleared his throat.

"It reminds me of Dover. But a lot warmer."

Alastor

Welp, as soon as he gets home Alastor is switching out all of his shower toiletries for bottles with fragrance names like “Ocean” and “Saltwater Breeze.”

“There probably aren’t many times of the year when it’s pleasant to swim in merry old England, are there?”

Sir Pentious

He laughed. "No, there isn't! Until the summer, when it starts getting hot, you have no chance. But even then, the rains come and chill everything even more."

Alastor

“I’m beginning to understand why England pillaged and plundered half the planet. Any excuse to move away from home, huh?” Studio laughter. “It’s too bad you never made it over to the States! The Gulf of Mexico is warm for, oh... a good half a year or more.”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, it's a shame. I would've loved a warm ocean to swim while human-- the cold water of Dover wasn't as good, certainly." He chuckled. The sun warm on his scales, and comfortable with his arms around Alastor, his eyes started to slide shut. He gave a small yawn and purred.

Alastor

It’s truly a peaceful moment. Tranquil. Quiet.

In all his years Alastor has never been content to leave a quiet moment alive. “So! ‘Telly,’ huh.”

Sir Pentious

His brain had already begun to boot down, and Alastor's voice brings him back to himself. He blinked and took a breath.

"Yes. Telly, from my name Pentell. I like it. But of course, it's only for special people to us."

Alastor

“Do you?” Alastor wasn’t sure *he* did yet. It lacked the grandeur of *Sir Pentious.* He liked that grandeur. In contrast, “Pentell” sounded so normal, and “Telly” sounded... small.

But it wasn’t Alastor’s name, now, was it? It wasn’t Alastor’s job to critique it, it was his job to get used to it. He’d either find a way to make it make sense to himself, or he’d just deal with it. “I don’t know if I’ve ever asked why you started going by Sir Pentious to begin with, have I?”

Sir Pentious

There's a tiny, but sharp, intake of breath from Telly at the question. If Alastor hadn't been so close, he might not have even heard it.

"It is....a long, long, involved story. One that I don't wish to dig up all of at the moment, but the ending of it, is that I considered Pentell Tinley dead, near the end, before I launched my ship, and began to call myself 'Sir Pentious'. Snake themeing and all that. I thought it sounded grandiose, and I was, all things considered, more than a little manic. I still very much like being called it, I like _being_ Sir Pentious, but now it sounds more....overwrought. Overdone. Maybe if I hadn't been in such a state, I would've come up with something subtler."

He laughed, soft and bitter.

Alastor

Alastor scoffed. “Who needs subtlety?” But he did pick up that sharp breath in, and that reluctance around the whole story. It was a name rooted in something that hurt.

“So... what, you think the name feels... too big? Does that sound right to you?”

Sir Pentious

The twinge in his chest felt like a dart piercing his heart. Big. Small. Those words...He hated them.

"Maybe. I don't know. But I think that Sir Pentious is what I need to be, to Hell at large, to the people who try to poke fun at me. But to the rest, the people I care about, I think....I think I'd rather be Telly."

Alastor

“Huh.” He contemplated that a moment. “So... more of a stage name than anything else? You’re only ‘Sir Pentious’ when you’re on the big stage?”

Sir Pentious

He took a breath and thought for a moment. Looks like they were both contemplating between sentences.

"No, not quite. I still _am_ Sir Pentious. I've been him for over a hundred years. I can't not be him, any less than I could not be an inventor, or a snake. I think, perhaps, I am just Pentell Tinley _too_. I can be both, can't I? I used to think I couldn't, but now, I don't think that's true."

Alastor

“What’s the difference between Sir Pentious and Pentell Tinley? I take it there *is* a difference, or else you wouldn’t be describing them as two different people—but what? If that question isn’t none of my business.”

Sir Pentious

"The line does blur, between them, but it's there." He sighed and sat there, pondering it for a long few minutes.

"I suppose, Sir Pentious doesn't care about what anyone says, what anyone does. He is confident and sure and takes action. He plans and plots and has ambition. Sir Pentious wants to take over Hell just to say he did, just to prove he could. He is immaculate and proper and terrifying. He wants everyone on their knees before him, grovelling for his favor. He craves it. He wants attention, he wants all eyes on him. He would destroy everything if it got him what he wanted.

"Pentell, on the other hand...Pentell cares. He cares so much about the perceptions of those around him. He cares what people whisper behind his back. He is cautious, he is careful, he walks on the razor's edge of convention. He tries so hard and so often falls short. Pentell wants to be left alone, he wants to invent, to find joy in the discovery, the creation. Make his own world, with his own two hands. He doesn't want to even deal with other people, unless they are friends. But even then....sometimes he still doesn't.

"And I am....somewhere in the middle, between these two men. Trying to find the balance, walking the tightrope with fire on one side and dark water on the other. I don't know if I can balance properly, or for how long, and I fear falling either way. I just want to be _me_, but the me I want to be is so hard to find...."

He fell silent, moving his face to press against Alastor's back. This was so much easier when he didn't need to look someone in the face. To confess these things. And who would've ever guessed it would the Radio Demon to get these things out of him?

Alastor

He turned over those two personalities in his mind. “Seems a hard pair to reconcile with each other.”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed there, with his face pressed into Alastor's back.

"Ssso you sssee my conundrum. When I am both one, it'ssss hard to sssee the good about being the other, and I don't want to go back, but then I do and I realize that I like _that_ one too, and then the whole thing sssstartssss all over again!"

He huffed and sighed. "I truly am an Ouroborossss, aren't I? Eating my own tail...."

Alastor

“And going around in circles. Why don’t you—you know—take the best parts of each and make up some third person? Call him, I don’t know, Sir Pentellyous?” He laughed, “Okay, the name could use work, but still!”

Sir Pentious

"Maybe that's what I'm already doing, with Telly. Sure, that name won't strike fear into any hearts, but maybe Telly can be the best of both worlds." He sat back up a little, his chin landing squarely back on Alastor's shoulder.

"It will take time, I think. I've wasted a lot of it, but I think, with people around me who actually _care_ about me....well, I think that will help..."

Alastor

“Hm.” He was silent again for a moment. “What’s he going to be like? This perfected version of you. Have any idea?”

Sir Pentious

"I don't know. I think that's part of why it's scary to become someone new. But it's also a little exciting." He smiled.

Alastor

Huff. “I’ve never much liked the process myself.”

Sir Pentious

"Hm, for some reason that doesn't surprise me." He chuckled softly.

Alastor

Alastor laughed. “Why’s that?”

Sir Pentious

"I think it's all the bombast. You put on a show for the world to make it harder to get close. Not that I fault you that, I do it too. So many people already fear and distrust you, so why not play into those emotions? Play with _them_. It's easier to put on a mask than it is to let someone in." He shrugged.

Alastor

Alastor blinked. “Oh, *really.* Is that why I put on a show?” His tone had cooled somewhat. “Well. Thank you for figuring that out for me, Dr. Freud.”

Sir Pentious

His eyes narrowed, and his tongue stuck out and stayed a few moments too long. Telly's arms retreated from around Alastor, and he sat back against his own coils, and they crossed over his chest instead.

"YOU ASKED! WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?" Huff!

Alastor

What *did* he expect? “... Something accurate.”

Alastor glanced at the crossed arms. “There’s my cue.” He pushed himself up off the coils and smoothed down his bathing suit. He wished he was wearing a little more.

Sir Pentious

He frowned when Alastor moved, and he leaned over closer. "SO, YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LEAVE NOW, OVER ONE COMMENT? ONE THAT YOU ASKED ME TO GIVE? AFTER EVERYTHING I TOLD YOU?"

His hood flared a little and he hissed. "WHY?"

Alastor

A shrug. “You’re the one who let go of me! I thought you wanted me off.”

Sir Pentious

"IF I WANTED YOU OFF, I WOULD'VE SSSSHOVED YOU OFF!" Now the hood was fully flared and he hissed louder.

"UGH! PERHAPSSS I SSSHOULD'VE EXPECTED THISSSS! YOU _ARE_ AN ALASSSTOR AFTER ALL! ALWAYSSS THE INTERVIEWER, NEVER THE INTERVIEWEE! CAN'T YOU JUSSSST LET DOWN YOUR GUARD FOR TWO SSSECONDSSS? CAN'T YOU TELL ME SSSSOMETHING?! IF I'M SSSO INACCURATE IN MY ASSSSESSSMENT OF YOU, THEN TELL ME _WHY_! I BARED MYSSSSELF TO YOU, CAN'T YOU GIVE ME THE TINIESSST BIT OF DECENCCCY AND GIVE A LITTLE IN RETURN?"

Alastor

“I put on a show because I want people to like me. I want—people to smile when I come into the room. I’m an entertainer. I want them to be entertained.” Boy that sure is a fascinating sea serpent that he’s not going to look away from for a second. “It’s not to push people away, it’s to draw them in.”

Sir Pentious

He huffed again, but his hood lowered fractionally. He took a few more breaths before saying anything.

"WELL, IT DOESSS! IT DOESSS DRAW THEM IN, BUT YOU SSSTILL HIDE BEHIND IT, TOO! NO ONE CAN KNOW THE ENTERTAINER IF HE'S CONSTANTLY ENTERTAINING, CAN THEY? YOU KEEP UP A WALL OF SSSMILESSS, AND MAKE IT HARD TO GET CLOSSSE TO YOU." He leaned across his coils and reached to take Alastor's hand, squeezing it between both of his.

"You don't have to keep the ssshow going all the time. You're allowed to put down the sssmile. I won't judge you, I sssswear."

Alastor

Alastor let him take his hand but didn’t return the squeeze. “The smile stays on. It’s part of me. And the show’s part of me, too! You don’t get closer to the real me if I pretend like I’m not on air, you just get *less* of me! Nobody says ‘you’re always hiding your *true* self from me, show me who you really are—strip off your skin and muscles so I can see your bones!’” He paused. “Well, all right, I knew one fellow who said that—but he was a mass murderer, so I don’t think he should count.” Studio laughter. “But me, I prefer some meat on my friends. What do you think you’re getting if you strip my personality off of me?”

Sir Pentious

Telly sat there, holding Alastor's hand as he spoke, making sure he caught every word, that it processed in his mind. He let his brain chew on it a bit before he responded.

"I don't want that, to ssstrip you of your persssonality. It'sss jusssst...It'sss hard to be clossse to you when I don't know when you're being facetioussss or not. Sssometimesss I underssstand but other timesss I get lossst. Or when you ssseem to get upsssset when I jussst anssswered a quesssstion honessstly. Or when you don't explain why I'm wrong and inssstead jussst assssume I want you to leave." He gave him a meaningful look.

"Do you undersssstand what I'm sssaying? I like you, Alassstor, I want ussss to be good friendssss, and I think we are! I haven't opened up like that to ssssomeone in a long time-- I think I'm doing it more now, though, between you, Hel, Valera, and Sssir Pentiousss. But I want you to trussst me, too, like I've been trussssting you. You know more about me than a lot of othersss now. I jussst want thisss to be a two way ssstreet."

Telly sighed and released Alastor's hand, but spread his arms, offering a hug. "I want you in my life, Alassstor-- or unlife, I guesssss?-- But I don't want to be the only one that givessss thingssss."

Alastor

He wasn’t upset at an *honest answer*, he was upset at being wildly misunderstood. He didn’t *assume* Telly wanted him to leave, he read the very overt body language. And he *did* explain why Telly was wrong—as soon as Telly asked.

But any correction would be taken as an argument, so he held his tongue. “I did just trust you.”

He did not want a hug. If he didn’t accept it, Telly would interpret it as a rejection of *him.* He leaned into the hug.

Sir Pentious

The hug was stiff. Too stiff. He'd hugged Alastor a few times before this and they all felt vastly different now. Telly's tongue stuck out again, and he pulled back, looking at him.

"I've done sssomething, haven't I? I've sssaid ssssomething wrong." He shrunk back a little and stared at the ground.

"I'm sssorry. I didn't mean to upssset you. I'm.....I'm not good at thisss am I?" He sighed and looked over at him. "You did trussst me and I wasss too dumb to ssssee it. I'm sssorry."

Alastor

Figured that out now, did he? Alastor thought that should have been obvious around the “Dr. Freud” quip.

“Oh, don’t call yourself *dumb*. I don’t want to hear you putting yourself down on my behalf.” He offered a wide smile. (You want to see Alastor with a mask? *There’s* Alastor with a mask.) “Come now! You’re the smartest man I know.”

Sir Pentious

Telly made a face and sat up taller. "I WASSS DUMB, ABOUT THAT. I DIDN'T LISSSSSTEN RIGHT. I MAY BE SSSSMART IN SSSOME THINGSSS BUT I'M DUMB IN OTHERSSSS! I KNOW THAT ABOUT MYSSSSELF!"

He huffed again, crossing his arms once more. Then his face fell a little, and he sighed. "I don't want to fight. I'm sssorry. We're sssuposssed to be out here, having a nice time, and I ruined it. I'm sssorry that I didn't undersssstand better. Will you forgive me, Alassstor?"

He didn't offer a hug or even a hand this time, but he did lean against his coils a little closer. "I jussst want to underssstand you, but then I sssay the wrong thing. Maybe...you could tell me, if I sssay the wrong thing? If I asssume wrongly, basssed on what I know of my universsse'sss you? I want you to correct me, Alassstor. If I get ssssomething wrong, I want to be told what isss correct." He sighed again. "I don't even know if that'sss the right thing to sssay either. Why are wordssss so difficult? Why can't we jusssst beam our intentionsss right into other'sss mindsss? Maybe that'sss sssomething I ssshould work on...."

Alastor

Alastor’s smile flattened a little. “I did tell you that you assumed wrongly.”

Usually Alastor would be *thrilled* at the thought of Sir Pentious working on another new invention—but under the context, he couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to pump him for information on how this one would work. “If you do come up with a telepathy machine, let me know about it.”

Sir Pentious

Telly tried to replay the conversation in his his head-- how had they gotten here? How could he fix this? Alastor was upset with him, but he couldn't figure out how to make things right.

"Yesss, you did. I jussst..." His face fell more and he shrugged. "I don't know what to do, Alassstor. I don't know how to make thissss right. I'm sssorry I didn't lisssten right. I'm sssorry I didn't notice how you were trusssting me and trying to open up." He almost started chewing on his lip, but stopped himself before he did. Now his crossed arms seemed more holding himself than defensive.

"I ruined it, and I'm ssssorry. We were having a nice time and then it ssstopped being nice, and now you're--" He stopped short. He was assuming again, but wasn't he right this time? Alastor _was_ upset, wasn't he?

"Maybe I ssshould sssstop talking now. I don't want to upssset you. I jusssst...." He didn't even know what to say now. Did he ever? He sighed again and looked at the sea serpent. "I'm ssssorry...."

Alastor

“Please stop apologizing.” Every apology felt like it was trying to strangle him. “I got it. You covered it with the first one.”

He glanced at the serpent again too. “Well. I think we’ve seen this sight.” He gestured back toward the path they took through the island.

Sir Pentious

"Right, yesss, I'm--" He cut himself off again, and simply nodded.

"We have. We sssshould return. That would be good." Telly still held himself, even as he started slithering back across the island.

"Do you want to ssswim back with me, or....?"

Alastor

He started trudging alongside Telly.

And then stopped. No. He didn’t want to.

If he didn’t, he’d probably ruin things permanently. He knew he’d regret that later. “Fine.” He resumed trudging.

Sir Pentious

"You don't have to, Alassstor. I'm not going to force you...." He sighed and kept looking anywhere but Alastor.

Alastor

“I said fine.” He didn’t want to have to regret running away again.

Sir Pentious

Telly's quiet for a few moments and then: "Okay."

He stays quiet then until they reach the other side of the island, and then he finally looks at Alastor, offering a hand to help him onto his tail.

Alastor

He also remained silent, but for the ever-present static around him and the noise of a needle skipping as he mentally replayed the conversation, turning it over in his head, searching for the point where it went sour. The static grew louder as his mood grew darker.

By the time Telly offered his hand, instead of taking it, Alastor rounded on him angrily. “You don’t get to accuse me of being a bad interviewee when *you* weren’t even an interviewer! You got hacked off at me for not answering your questions *before you asked me any!* When you asked, *I answered!* I *answer* you! I *want* you to know about me! But after asking a hundred questions about you, I try to offer you *one* tiny little detail about who I am, and—and instead of following up on that, you give me some cookie-cutter ‘you’re scared to open up’ therapist babble like you have me all figured out and then blame me when I don’t conform to it! Go on, tell me more about how I play with people’s fear to keep them from getting close to me! *I hate their fear.* I *hate* that all of Hell is too afraid to make eye contact! I’m a God damned *talk show host,* everyone is supposed to *love* me—“

He cut himself off. Turned away, clasped his hands behind his stiff back, stalked up the shoreline.

Sir Pentious

His hand instantly retracted when Alastor started yelling at him-- _Alastor_ yelling at _him_. Not the other way around. That was something new. Wide pink-red eyes blink at him, and he tries to make sure to catch every word-- this was _important._ He knew that much.

And then he stopped, and started to stalk away, and no, no, that wasn't going to happen. Telly surged after him, slithering fast across the sand to round in front of him and cut him off.

"Alastor! Wait, wait-- Give me a moment, pleassse!" He was breathing fast as he took as short a time as possible to continue processing everything Alastor said. And then he took a big, deep breath.

"You're right. You said to stop apologizing, but I must one more time: I'm sorry. I assumed I knew everything, and didn't stop to think. And, well..." He swallowed and then put his hands, gingerly, on Alastor's shoulders. He made sure to look him right in the eyes.

"I don't fear you. I don't. People mock me, and I hate that, but I never stopped to think about how everyone pissing themselves when you walk in a room must feel-- how that must be horrible, when literally everyone runs at the mere sight of you, or your name. But I want you to know that I don't.

"I understand if you're still angry with me, or will continue to be for a while, but I want you to know that I still want to be your friend and maybe I....just need to be a better interviewer?" He let out a hollow chuckle. "Maybe I can take some lessons from the best one around...."

Alastor

Dammit, don't follow him, he didn't want to continue. He shouldn't have said as much as he had. He hated breaking character, he didn't feel like himself. He tensed when Telly grabbed his shoulders, stared straight through him when he tried to make eye contact.

But when Telly finished and Alastor had a chance to pull back, instead he closed the distance, pulled Telly into a hug, and crushed his face into Telly's shoulder.

Sir Pentious

Telly was a little surprised at the hug-- he'd been expecting more storming off. But perhaps he needed to stop assuming that he knew what Alastor would do, and more importantly, what he felt.

His arms closed around him, holding Alastor just as tightly as Alastor held him. Telly's eyes (on his face) closed, and one of his hands cradled the back of Alastor's head, carding through his hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

Alastor

"Good," he croaked. "I don't want you to fear me." There was the subtlest extra emphasis on the word *you.*

Sir Pentious

His tail moves, slowly coiling around the two of them, like Telly wanted to cocoon them together. "I don't. I swear, I don't."

His claws continued to card through his hair, giving little scratches to his scalp, too. "What _is_ it like? Having everyone so scared of you all the time?"

Alastor

This was far too intimate and he was far too naked, both physically and emotionally. He didn't fight it yet, though. He focused on the claws in his hair.

"It's a rush at first. You can get deliriously high off the power fear gives you. But, once the high wears off... No one will look at you, no one will talk to you... no one will sit next to you on the bus... Hah, half the time no one will share the bus with you at all! It can be *useful,* if you *want* a bus to yourself. And sure, you can terrify people into doing anything you want, you can order them to sit in a chair and carry on a conversation with you—but they're never actually listening to what you say. They're just waiting for the first opportunity to run."

He laughed ruefully. "Enough fear will get you anything you want, except for a willing audience—and what's the radio without an audience?" He was rambling, his explanation meandering, spitting out the first things he could think of. What kind of radio host was he? "It's... very isolated."

Sir Pentious

Telly kept up the petting through everything Alastor said, and hummed a bit in consideration.

"Yes, it sounds like it. It sounds, well frankly, terrible. But what about the people in the cannibal colony? They don't fear you like that, do they?" He was going to keep asking questions until either Alastor stopped answering, or he ran out of things to ask.

Alastor

"Most of them don't, no. But they're a... It's quite a traditional, conservative little enclave. They haven't had a fresh thought since 1905. They're impressively Protestant, considering what afterlife they're in—but you'd be amazed just how easily they divorced their religion from their god and kept on practicing it unaltered. They're alarmingly white—and believe you me, there is a way to do that alarmingly. Half the ladies compete over me like a prize whenever I show up. And worst of all... no radios." Faint laughter from the studio audience.

"I tried living there but couldn't last. It's a pleasant place to visit, if you can act like you're one of them—but it *is* an act. After a while it's downright draining. Fit in and you'll find the best acquaintances you could ever ask for, but you won't make friends." He finally pulled back—not pulling *away*, but enough to show his face again. Still smiling, but he looked exhausted. "People are surprised to hear that the colony is so closed-minded—why, what about all the singing and dancing and cannibalism they're so well-known for? I've got no explanation for their musical inclinations; but as for the cannibalism... in my experience, I think most people need a little extra dose of close-mindedness before they can dehumanize a person enough to see them as meat. Either you're just like them, or you're prey. I've got the good fortune to be just like them... except that I'm not, of course."

Sir Pentious

His tongue stuck out again, and his face screwed up, at the description-- something Alastor could clearly see when he pulled back.

"_Traditional. Conservative. Eugh._" He spat out the words like curses, and his tongue stayed out with a soft hiss, before retreating. His hands stayed where they were on Alastor, one curled around his waist, and the other resting now on his shoulder, holding the back of his head. It felt so intimate, this pose, and Telly felt his heart give a painful sort of clenching flutter when he realized it.

But he didn't pull away. It was important that he wasn't the first the pull away here, at least that's what he thought.

"Not to criticize your other friends, but that sounds about as pleasant as everyone running in fear. Either they're too afraid to speak to you, or you have to pretend to be just like the rest when you're not." He huffed, and his eyes narrowed, though not at Alastor-- instead he looked out, thinking.

"I understand the second one much more than the first." His thumb came up to stroke against Alastor's cheek-- a somewhat unconscious action. Telly's coils tightened a tad, but not enough to constrict Alastor-- another unconscious movement, a shielding of the both of them from the world.

"What about Rosie, in particular? Do you have to pretend like that with her, or is it different?"

Alastor

He laughed, what a reaction. *Eugh* indeed. "I imagine you *would* be familiar with the concept—with a family like you had, living when you did. Not to repeat stereotypes about the Victorians, *but*..." He leaned into the touch. Strange to be touched like this.

"Oh, Rosie's different. She's not even human. She chose to make her home in the Cannibal Colony because she decided she liked their little culture, but she's in the same camp as me: the colonists treat her as if she's the exact same as them because she acts enough like one of them. On the one hand, that means she doesn't *buy into* most of our human cultural baggage, which is a plus—but on the other hand, she doesn't really get why these things make a difference to humans at all."

He sighed lightly. "She's one of my dearest friends, and for good reason! But... well, she does witness our human matters as an outsider. That's both a positive and a negative. You're close to an inhuman entity, I'm sure you know what I mean?"

Sir Pentious

"The stereotypes for that are accurate, at least where my family was concerned. A woman for every man, and kids aplenty." He made a face again. Blegh.

"Oh, I didn't know she wasn't human. That's interesting-" He stopped short when Alastor mentioned _him_ being close to an inhuman entity. His face screwed up, and his head tilted as he thought. What did Alastor mean-- Hel, or Hattie? Well, he might as well ask.

"Which inhuman entity are you referring? Hel? Or Hattie? Or is it someone else?"

Alastor

Alastor wrinkled his nose. “A woman for every man, even if you have to drag fourteen-year-olds into it.” He scoffed. “Most people don’t realize she isn’t human! She lives among them, after all—she doesn’t really advertise it. But you can tell. She’s got this air of... *above-it-all*-ness. A little bit maternal, a little bit patronizing.”

Alastor almost answered, stopped, and uncertainly asked, “Is your hat a separate person? I took it as a sort of... psychic extension of you. I *meant* Hel, but...” He made eye contact with the bathing cap. “Er, hello? My, goodness, what must you think of us, spilling our hearts right in front of you like this!”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, no, Hattie is...._mostly_ a part of me. But he's also not. It's...odd? I think it might be like you and your microphone." He chuckled a bit. "Though he doesn't talk." A short shrug.

"But, yes, I suppose Hel _is_ nonhuman, but she understands humanity and everything very well. If I didn't know better, I wouldn't have thought her anything other than a fellow human soul." He smiled, a bit wistfully. "For a while, I thought Hel was a pseudonym, until I found out it wasn't."

Alastor

A nod. “Okay, that’s what I though.” He gave the hat another Look, though.

Huff. “Versatile name, Hel—works for people *and* places. Like Georgia.” Surely Georgia was a fitting comparison to the names of underworlds and/or their gods. “I don’t know if I’d have figured out Rosie wasn’t human before she said so, truth be told. But it came up fairly early. But once you *know,* well... it’s plenty obvious.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh yes, the same with Hel. Once you're aware you're in the prescence of the literal Norse Goddess, it's easy to see everything." He chuckled again, and took a breath, smiling.

"Is there anyone else? Other than Rosie that you're close to? I know about Husker and Miss Nifty, but are they friends or just...." He searched for the right word. "...employees?"

Alastor

“Employees. *Less* than employees, really—more like part-time indentured servants. They’re both in my debt. Two of hundreds that are. You can’t be friends with someone with that kind of imbalance.”

Sir Pentious

"I see. Like if I tried to be friends with an Egg Boi, I'd assume." He tilted his head. "Maybe a little different, because the Egg Bois are all sycophantic, and virtually the same."

He purred a little and settled back against his coils, drawing Alastor close with him. "So, no one else? Just Rosie?"

Alastor

“More or less. An Egg Boi with an independent sentient life.”

He tilted his head back and forth. “Mimzy—I don’t know if you know of her. Big movie star, but of course that was after your time. Some of my duplicates, over the years, but it’s hard to be close to *yourself.* A handful of distant, casual friends with shared hobbies. And—“ (he averted his gaze) “—a few others, these past few months. But when you can count a friendship in months, *well...* Anyone can be a friend for a few months and then drift off.”

Sir Pentious

That made his heart give a pang. He didn't want to drift off. He didn't want Alastor to drift off either. Telly hadn't had friends in a long, long time, too, and he didn't want to lose any of them. Would it be strange to tell Alastor that? He wasn't sure, even, now with them talking again, like earlier.

"I don't want to drift off, Alastor. As much as I am prone to secluding myself, I don't want to drift off from you-- or the other friends I've made." He cupped Alastor's face in his hand and stroked his cheek again. "I don't want you to drift off, either. I honestly, truly, want us to stick together."

He took a long, deep breath, and his hand moved down, both arms now just around Alastor's waist, holding him. He suddenly laughed as a thought struck him. "Just don't ever let me cook for you! I'm terribly, can't even make eggs! Though I think the Egg Bois are thankful for that. I always wondered how you're so good at it. I know bits from-- well, my universe's version, but I don't know if it's the same for you. How did you learn to cook so well?"

Alastor

That hand on his face, those words... Something lurched in his chest. It would be so easy to say there was *nothing* he wanted more than to stick together, and then to lean in...

But the hand left Alastor’s face and his trance broke before he could do something incredibly stupid. He dropped his hands to Sir Pentious’s lower back and laced them together. What were they talking about? Focus on the new topic. “Oh—my mother taught me. I’ve kept learning since then, of course—in France, New York, down here—but she gave me the foundation everything else is built on. I suppose the high-and-mighty Tinley family had people to cook for you?” He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Who’s been keeping you fed down here?”

Sir Pentious

Oh, if he could blush, his face would be the reddest thing next to Alastor's hair! He can't believe he was about to admit this, but with such a frank question....

"The Egg Bois..." He can't look at Alastor, oh, this is humiliating to admit. "They.....make me sandwiches, or go out and get me food. When I first got to Hell, though, it was the soirees and parties that my reputation bought me invitations to that kept me fed...."

Alastor

“The *Egg Bois*?” Do you see the horror in Alastor’s eyes. Do you. “Please tell me they’re better in the kitchen than they are in... anywhere else.” Considering that apparently their culinary expertise was limited to *sandwiches,* somehow Alastor doubted it.

Sir Pentious

He can't help the laugh that bubbles up in his throat, and there's a manic sort of tinge to it. "No, they're really not! I can't trust them with a stove or a hot plate. If I want something hot, I have to order something and have them pick it up!"

Oh no, he's full on giggling at the ridiculousness of all this.

Alastor

“Not even just sandwiches—*cold* sandwiches! You can’t so much as get a panini in your own home!” He clapped his hands on Sir Pentious’s shoulders. “*Please* tell me you’re at least ordering from decent restaurants. Not pre-frozen mass-produced fast food rubbish.”

Sir Pentious

Oh that look of shame on his face! If Telly could sink into the ground right now, he would very much like that.

"No, it'sss just whatever ssssoundsss tasssty! And sssometimesss whatever isss cheapessst."

Alastor

Alastor stared up at him. He knew full damn well what *cheapest* meant. “You poor man. Come here.” He wrapped one arm around Telly’s shoulders, cradled the back of his head with the other, and tugged him down to rest his head on Alastor’s shoulder. “You poor, poor man. I know Hell is a punishment, but even at that it’s not supposed to be *that* bad.”

Sir Pentious

Oh, oh, he was being held now. This was nice, even if it was because of his eating habits. His arms tightened around Alastor's waist.

"At times, eating was a lower priority than my ship, or other inventions. Materials cost, after all, and it's not like I'll _die_ if I go without food in Hell or anything..." He's mumbling a bit now, shame taking full hold, overshadowing any of the strange giddiness left.

Alastor

“My good sir, I survived the *Great Depression.* We ate soups made with chopped-up hot dogs. If we wanted a nice salad, we plucked dandelions out of the sidewalk. We made *chocolate cake* with *tomato soup.* But I can *assure* you, it tasted better than the slop they’re selling at the ‘cheapest’ restaurants these days—and I don’t even *like* cake!” He patted Sir Pentious’s back. “You are invited over for lunch *any time* you want. No, you don’t even have to come over! Just yell your order into the nearest radio and I’ll be right over.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, I couldn't, I can't impose like that, I-- I-It'sss fine really--" Annnnd his throat closes, choking on the words. _Really?_ He thinks to himself. _Really, Pentell, THIS is what gets you to cry, after everything that's happened on this beach, it's THIS?_ But he can't help it, the tears come as he presses his face into Alastor's shoulder. His teeth clamp down on his lip to stifle the sobs that wrack his body, and his tail coils tighter, all of his eyes now leaking. He felt blood begin to drip from his mouth, fangs having pierced all the way through, and that landed on Alastor as well.

Alastor

Hello, what? For a second he was paralyzed by shock and the sickening feeling that he’d just royally screwed up. And then he launched into soothing Telly—hugging him tighter, playing a soft song, murmuring, “Hey, it’s all right. I’ve got you. It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” and other reassuring sweet nothing.

After a moment, he self-consciously said, “Oh, *boy* do I hope that these are tears of joy because you’ve got someone to cook for you now.”

Sir Pentious

The sobbing takes up his entire mind for a good while, and the soothing does help somewhat. He unlocks his jaw and starts taking breaths through there, slow and deep, trying to make sure he didn't start hyperventilating.

"I-I'm sssso sssorry, Alassstor," He muttered when he'd gotten back some sembelence of control. He hiccuped softly, and it turned into a manic sort of giggle. "I d-don't know what came over me. I....I h-honessstly don't."

Telly sniffled and pulled back, just enough to wipe as his face with a hand. "I....." He swallowed thickly, trying to piece together what he was feeling. "I think it's hard for me to understand that....that people can _care_ about me? And I think, hearing that offer, I realized that you do....care about me...and the dam just....broke."

Telly shrugged weakly, tears still leaking down his face faster than he could wipe them away. "I'm sorry if I frightened or worried you...."

Alastor

When Alastor saw Telly’s face, he sucked a sharp staticky breath in. Without thinking, he reached up to cradle Telly’s face in one hand, and with his thumb carefully wiped a trickle of blood away from Telly’s lip. “I’m sorry I set you off like that,” he said quietly. “Well—if the dam’s broken, that means there won’t be another flood, right? I don’t have to worry about making you sob all over yourself if I offer to do you a favor in the future?”

Sir Pentious

"Depends on if the dam gets repaired, I think." He chuckled hollowly. When he realized he was bleeding he winced.

"Shit. I bit myself. Over a hundred years and I still forget about my fangs, damn it all..." He huffed and sank down lower, laying his head on Alastor's shoulder again.

"I think that if you do continue to offer me favors, I'll end up getting used to it, and these kinds of reactions will abate..." He took another deep breath. "At least I hope they do, I don't want to burst into tears at the drop of a hat. It's so messy."

Alastor

He wrapped his arms around Sir Pentious again. And surreptitiously licked the blood off his thumb.

“I’m going to have to start carrying around water bottles if they don’t.” Moderate laughter from the studio audience. “Is there a way for me to—I don’t know—care less caringly? For the sake of your copious tear ducts?”

Sir Pentious

He laughed too, along with the audience, and shook his head a little. "I don't know. I'm not sure what it is about the caring that actually...._makes_ me cry. But if you find a method, please feel free to try it out."

Telly took another long, deep breath, and his tears stopped fully. "I think I'm okay now..."

Alastor

“Good.” He didn’t let go just yet, though. “We should probably get you back to shore. Unless you can drink saltwater, you’re going to be dehydrated as all hell.”

Sir Pentious

He didn't let go either, in fact, he would've liked to stay like that for a long time. But it was probably past time they headed back anyway.

"You're right. I'll need water after that, and unfortunately, I can't drink salt water." He laughed.

Alastor

“Pity.” He slowly, reluctantly let go. “Shall we, then? Before you shrivel up like a remarkably long prune?”

Sir Pentious

Telly, equally as reluctant, pulled back, but let his hand slide down to take Alastor's. He smiled, softly and warmly, at him.

"Ready to climb back on?"

Alastor

Once they’d separated, it *just* began to dawn on Alastor how long and uncomplainingly they’d been wrapped around each other—when he was reminded that they were about to have to do it again. “*Right.* Yes. Ready when you are.”

Sir Pentious

"Up you come then, Alastor." He tugged on his hand to help him up onto his back.

Alastor

He barely needed the encouragement. He was being invited, it wouldn’t be weird for him to latch on, hurry up and don’t think about it.

Sir Pentious

Telly gave a little purr when Alastor climbed back on, and once again, he made sure his hands were secure around his waist before he started moving. He slithered toward the water, his hand covering Alastors, just as before.

Alastor

This time, he didn’t hesitate to latch on tightly.

Sir Pentious

Telly slithered out onto the water, and looked over his shoulder. "On three. One. Two. Three!" And with a big inhale, he dived under, swimming back towards the mansion island. He breached back up only a short distance from the shore, and Telly gasped for breath.

Alastor

On the return trip, Alastor didn’t even bother trying to watch the scenery going by. He just kept his eyes shut and clung, his cheek to Telly’s back. This was only going to last a couple more minutes. Enjoy it while it’s happening.

And then they surfaced. He let out a long sigh, let go, and treaded water. “Thanks for the speedy ride!” He was never going to mention that he could have teleported himself back and forth.

Sir Pentious

"Of course, thank you for sailing SS Telly!" He laughed, and took Alastor's hand again, dragging him with him as he swam the rest of the way to shore. He stopped there on the sand and considered the mansion.

"It would be rude to go inside soaking wet....."

Alastor

Okay. *One* more touch. He freed his hand so that he could fling his arm around Telly’s shoulders. “Shall I?” He held up his other hand, fingers positioned to snap.

Sir Pentious

He smiled at the arm around him, and nodded. "Please, if you would, Mes. Alastor!" He laughed and winked.

Alastor

Snap. They’re now both dry. Enjoy the sensation of every drop of water simultaneously yeeting itself away.

Sir Pentious

He shivered all over at that, what a strange feeling! But then he grinned. "Shall we, then?" He asked, gesturing towards the the mansion. He really was starting to feel exceptionally thirsty.

Alastor

He let go, but said, “Hold on a moment. I wanted to say that, uh... For a bit there, back on the island... Well, that wasn’t exactly in character for me—at least, not the character that I try to play—so—I—wanted to apologize. I might be a violent man, but I try not to have a violent temper.”

Sir Pentious

He took turned and took both of Alastor's hands. "It's fine, Alastor. I'm glad it happened, because it helped me understand more about you and see what I had done wrong, and it will help me keep from making a mistake like that in the future. The last thing I want to do is misunderstand you."

Telly squeezed both his hands and smiled, before releasing them. "Do you want to come get that water with me, or...shall we say goodbye for now, here?"

Alastor

“It shouldn’t have happened like *that.* I could have handled it more gracefully. I want you to understand me, too, and that’s not going to happen if I’m so hacked off you’re afraid to talk to me!” He glanced away with a self-conscious grin. “I’m not used to being *afraid* that I won’t be understood.”

He returned the squeeze before Telly let go. “I’ll come along. I oughta head to the kitchen with you, anyway. I need to get a list of what kind of food you like.”

Sir Pentious

His eyes widened, but he smiled and nodded. "Right, yes, that-- yes, we should do that."

He turned to head inside, overall, feeling much better about the whole trip.

[androgynoussublimeangel]

The Price of Freedom (Chpt.1)

AO3

Summary: 

Alastor isn't sure what's gotten into their resident drug-addicted pornstar but something is different about the determined set of his shoulders and a vengeful glint in his eyes. And just where does he keep slipping off to each day returning with more money than any prostitute could make in a single day.

Alastor is beginning to realize Angel Dust might not be the demon Alastor assumed him to be. And has he always had a trio of strange imps following him around?

But Alastor isn't one to miss out on what could prove to be some very promising entertainment.

*

Angel wanted his freedom. The freedom that Valentino had stolen before Angel even knew what freedom was. He’d spent his whole lifetime being trapped under someone else's control, first his father’s, then his drug dealers, then his clients. Now that he was dead he’d only traded one pair of shackles for another.

As long as Valentino had power, Angel knew he’d never have more than a gilded cage. And Angel was fucking tired of cages. But the overlord wasn’t going to just give up his throne willingly.

But Angel wasn't going to give up without a fight.

With a final horse scream, Angel toppled to the floor, pained tremors wracking his limp body. Flinching as Vox roughly tore his cords from the base of his skull. The TV demon carelessly kicking the prostitutes' prone form as he stepped over him. Angel could only moan softly in pain, his long limbs curling inwards cradling his still trembling body. Barely aware of the sound of the door opening behind him.

“Sorry for the wait Angel Cakes,” Valentino’s smoky voice prickled unpleasantly over Angel’s still pain addled consciousness. Angel blinked blurrily up at the looming figure of his pimp. “Just took Vox a lot longer to find what we were looking for in that empty fucking brain of yours. Don’t know how you find anything in there babe.” The other demons voice dripping with cruel amusement. Digging the toe of his shoe into Angel’s sore ribs. His sharp smile twisting as the pornstar whimpered, trying to wiggle away uselessly.

“Must be all that shit you’re always snorting, might wanna lay off the angel dust, sweetheart.”

Valentino laughed sadistically, sidestepping his employee’s crumpled body, striding towards his desk with Vox following close behind. The overlord settling into his overly luxurious chair, carved from ebony wood with gold inlays and lined with crimson velvet, auspicious enough to be called a throne.

Angel had always thought it looked less like a symbol of the overlord's power and more like he was overcompensating. Not that he ever dared share that with Valentino.

The pimp steepled his fingers together, propping his feet atop his enormous desk. The TV demon standing to Valentino left, screen flickering as a cruel grin warped his face. The lights leaking through the enormous penthouse windows haloing the overlords in neon colors.

“But Vox is the best at what he does,” Valentino smirked at his fellow overlord, the smirk growing wider as the other demon cackled in response. Angel tried to lift his head, weakly glaring at his boss, eyes still unfocused and vision blurring at the edges. Still fuzzy from Vox’s invasion of his mind.

“Come on Angie, baby, don’t be that way. You forced my hand sweetheart, I couldn’t trust you to remember to tell me everything.” The pimp scolded, voice thick with false sweetness. “Just like I’m sure it slipped your mind to mention your whole little “going-clean” schtick.” His smile dropping suddenly, eyes steely. “I don’t appreciate learning about my employee's apparent plans to quit from those fucking pigs running the news.”

Angel shuddering under the force of the overlord's anger, the air practically pulsating from the power exuding from the pimp. Forcing his aching body upright, legs still too weak to hold his weight. His lower set of arms wrapped protectively around his throbbing torso. Valentino’s enraged expression becoming pleased at the sight of Angel’s pained grimace. His face twisting into a pseudo-sweet smile.

“But you’re ain’t gonna quit are you, Angel?” The pimp crooned. Legs falling from his desk as he leaned forward in his chair. Propping his elbows on the desktop and hooking his chin on his intertwined fingers. Glowing red eyes watching the prostitute expectantly, dark promises flickering behind the tinted lenses of heart-shaped glasses. Angel swallowed back the disgust curling in his throat.

“No daddy.” He replied obediently. Eyes downcast and posture demure, the perfect picture of compliance.

“Good, good, we wouldn’t want to have to punish you again now would we.” Angel shook his head vehemently, ignoring the splitting headache pounding behind his eyes. Valentino hummed in satisfaction as he leaned back into the plush velvet lining his chair.

“Now,” The overlord purred, the tapping of his nails against the armrest of his chair deafening in the quiet room. “You wanna explain to me what all this ‘redemption’ bullshit is about?”

Angel didn’t reply. Refusing to look at the overlord.

Valentino sighed, rising smoothly to his feet, sauntering over to Angel’s kneeling form. Angel gazed up at the other man, fighting to not flinch away from the hand that began petting his hair. “How ‘bout I make this easier,”

The clawed hand that had been carding through his hair suddenly gripping a fistful of white locks. Angel winced as his head was yanked back, Valentino’s sharp teeth suddenly inches from his face. “What makes you think you’re even worthy of redemption?” The pimp growled, ignoring Angel uselessly clawing at the hand tangled in his hair.

“A stupid, worthless, whore like yourself, whose only redeeming quality is your cock-hungry holes.”

Angel averted his eyes, unable to hold Valentino’s hateful gaze as verbal poison spilled from the pimps lips. A sudden sharp grip on his chin wrenched his face forward, Valentino’s claws digging harshly into the soft flesh of Angel’s cheeks. The overlord forcibly lifting Angel’s body upwards with his tight grip. The pornstar whimpering but knowing better than to retaliate.

“You look me in the fucking eye when I’m talking to you!” Valentino snarled, eyes flashing before his expression relaxed, melting back into a saccharine sweet smile.

“You just can’t do anything right can you dollface?” A drop of blood sliding down Angel's cheek where Valentino’s claw pricked his cheek. “So fucking useless huh, that dumb royal bitch didn’t know what she was doing picking your pathetic ass to be a part of her stupid pet project.”

The bitter taste of copper filling Angel’s mouth as he bit harshly into his lip to stop himself from spitting in the overlord's face. Surprised by the force of his own anger as Valentino mocked Charlie’s dream. Girl was as naive as they came but she genuinely wanted to see the best in everyone, she truly believed demons could be redeemed. She believed Angel could be redeemed.

The overlord noticed the defiant spark in the pornstar's eyes, his grin growing sharper until he was baring his teeth more than he was smiling.

“Oh this is rich,” The pimp laughed through his teeth, still gripping Angel Dust’s hair. Valentino smirked over his shoulder at Vox, shaking Angel roughly by his hair. “This little bitch actually believes in this redemption shit.” Vox’s snickering joined Valentino’s own cruel chuckling.

“Let me make one thing clear, Angel.” Valentino’s voice dropped to a hiss, his face inches from Angel’s. Close enough that Angel could taste the other man’s alcohol tainted breath. “Even if redemption wasn’t a load of horseshit, you’d never have a chance in hell. You wanna know why angel cakes?”

The overlord drew back to his full height, sneering down his nose at Angel. “Cuz your nothing. You ain’t worth nothing to nobody. Even your own family down here doesn’t want you. The only reason you’re not dead in a fucking ditch is because of me.”

Angel winced as the nails pricking his cheeks dug deeper into the soft flesh. “Who do you belong to Angel cakes?”

“You.” Angel’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“That’s right, and I’ve got your contract to prove it.” Valentino releasing his intense grip on both Angel’s face and hair sending the pornstar toppling to the floor again.

“Now get out, I’m sick of looking at your face.” The pimp spun on his heel, returning to his seat without a backward glance at the trembling demon struggling to stand. Angel tottered dangerously but managed to get his legs underneath himself, one arm still cradling his slowly mending ribs. Angel was half-way out the door hand hovering on the door handle when the sound of Valentino’s voice caused him to pause. “Oh, and Angel?”

Angel Dust glanced warily over his shoulder. “Next time, you answer me when I call, got it, babe?”

“Yes, boss.”

The door closed with a click.

Angel kept his head held high, marching to the elevator. The moment the doors slid closed behind him, Angel all but collapsed against them. Exhaling deeply, wincing as a sharp jab of pain from his protesting ribs, Angel groaned. Valentino had really put him through the wringer this time. Angel knew he’d be sore for weeks but the pimp always made sure he’d still be able to work. Never leaving an injury that couldn’t regenerate in a few hour's time. Didn’t want to damage the merchandise after all.

Mutilation wasn’t Val’s style anyway, the sadistic roach preferred to aim for where the skin was thinnest. He always knew which bruises to dig his fingers into. Valentino was equally as fond of emotional abuse as he was of inflicting physical pain. The pimp overlord was able to ascertain someone's most emotionally vulnerable cracks and once he did, he’d ruthlessly pry those cracks open until whatever was left was practically unrecognizable.

Angel moaned softly as the elevator jolted, his sore body complaining at the rough treatment. He silently willed it to descend faster, he was itching to get the hell out of there before he suffocated under the weight of Val's overwhelming presence.

This wasn’t his first time getting on his boss’s bad side. He’d seen the back of Valentino's hand more than once. It was rare if he was without a bruise or two, either from his clients or his pimp. It was one of the unfortunate side effects of being covered entirely in velvety fur. A lot easier to hide bruises, which Val seemed to take as a challenge.

Angel could handle pain, he even enjoyed it in the right scenarios. Even as Valentino’s punishments grew more and more brutal. Angel could handle him.

Vox was a different story.

Vox was the kind of demon Angel hated the most, though Valentino was a close second. He even preferred Alastor and his creepy smile over the TV demon. Despite Angel’s previous unawareness about the radio demon, Vaggie’s very vivid and detailed story of other demons ventures painted a clear picture.

Alastor was direct, merciless and efficient. Alastor slaughtered demons but his bloodlust was simple and honest. The radio demon even seemed to have some weird moral code about who he killed. Despite his terrifying abilities and rumored cannibalism, he wasn’t a mindless killer.

Unlike Vox and Valentino who enjoyed causing pain just for the sake of pain. Heedless of who they hurt as they made an overblown show of power through senseless and gratuitous killing.

Angel had always found Vox’s unique brand of torture was invasive, cowardly, and unrefined. The TV demon wielded the numerous cords connected to his body and at the slightest inclination could bury them deep in his victims' flesh. Vox’s powers granted him the ability to forcibly search someone's mind, which was painful in it itself. But he could also forcibly create a recurring nightmare of traumatic memories that played on a loop.

Angel had one of Vox’ victims who’d been plugged in for over a week, reliving their darkest moments again and again. They’d been barely more than an empty husk of a demon, eyes empty and blank, completely unresponsive. It had scared Angel badly enough at the time he’d behaved for an entire year.

This wasn’t even the first time Valentino had felt Angel’s disobedience merited Vox’s intervention, but it wasn’t usually as unbearable. Normally Angel was so strung out on whatever cocktail of drugs he was offered it was barely more than a, particularly bad nightmare. A bad dream that would be forgotten easily enough as soon as Angel Dust got his hands on more of his namesake.

But this time Angel had been completely stone-cold sober.

Each excruciating second had been in agonizing clarity. The feeling of Vox forcibly entering his mind had felt like his head was being split open from the inside and left his brain feeling like it’d been scraped raw with sandpaper. Painful memories lingering too close to the surface after being buried underneath the haze of drugs and sex for so long.

Angel shuddered, moments of his past life that he’d tried his best to forget flashing behind his eyelids. Shaking his head, trying to rid himself from the lingering horrors Vox dredged up from his own mind. He only succeeds in further agitating his throbbing headache.

The elevator dinged and Angel stumbled backward as the doors slid open. Catching himself on the wall with a groan, Angel whined unhappily as he clambered back to his feet. Brushing off imaginary dust from his jacket and smoothing back his hair, only for it to bounce forward again.

Beginning his trek down the hall, eyes brushing over familiar faces of other demons trapped underneath Valentino’s thumb. Some offered him sympathetic looks but otherwise didn’t approach. Angel couldn’t bring himself to be offended. After all, they all knew Valentino would only use it as an excuse to punish him again.

Angel took in the tired faces of all the demons that passed him, everyone looking a little worse for wear since he’d been here last. It had been a few days since he was released from house arrest, or would it be hotel arrest Angel wonders, after his little territorial genocide stint with Cherri. Charlie (only after Vaggie’s very loud protest) had insisted there be some kind of punishment for his actions. If it could be called that, Angel would take a few days of lazing around with his pig over Valentino’s punishment anytime.

Angel sure as hell didn’t believe in redemption or any of that “being a good person” bullshit Charlie was always trying to sell him. But looking at the haggard faces of the demons around him he felt a twinge of concern for them. They weren’t good people that was for damn sure but a lot of them weren’t exactly bad people either.

Angel huffed, cursing Charlie for infecting him with her mushy feelings and empathy. He shuddered just thinking the word. This would be so much easier drugged out of his mind and completely unaware of anything besides his own high.

Drawing closer to the rear exit of the studio Angel straightened his hunched posture, the ache in his ribs finally having subsided somewhat as the bones mended. It would ache like a bitch for a few days at least but nothing Angel wasn’t used too. He’d just have to avoid his left side when he was on the pole.

He exited the studio quickly, striding down the alleyway, eager to get as far away from the building as possible. He wanted to get back to the hotel, where he at least had a room that wasn’t monitored 24/7 and he didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to sell Fat Nuggets for drug money while he was gone.

He paused mid-step, eyes catching on a garishly colored image splashed across the alleyway wall. Angel glared up at, what was no doubt the work of one of Valentino’s, admittedly talented, goons. An enormous portrait of Valentino’s sleazy face splashed across the alley wall. It practically dwarfed him, nearly twice Angel’s height and wider than his arm span.

Standing there, glaring up at the pimps painted likeness. Skin tacky from the cold sweat drying on his skin, breathing slowly growing more ragged with each breath. Angel felt a powerful tidal wave of emotion well up inside him. All four of his hands curling tightly into fists, his claws digging painfully into his palms.

A sudden familiar, grating voice boomed over the loudspeaker causing Angel to jump in surprise. Grimacing in disgust as one of Valentino’s many degrading “reminders” that played on an hourly loop echoed through the studio, leaking into the alleyway.

“Remember to serve your customers with a smile, a happy customer is a paying customer. Now go out and make daddy his money you worthless whores.”

Valentino’s voice wrapping tightly around Angel, slowly constricting around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. Just another reminder of who he belonged to.

The thin thread of Angel’s temper finally snapped.

A loud crack reverberated through the alley. Angel’s fist burying itself in the brick wall, directly in the center of Valentino’s smarmy painted smile. Long, jagged cracks spidering across the surface obscuring the image of Valentino’s grinning face entirely.

Angel’s entire form trembled with rage, the fury burning inside him climbing higher and higher. A small flame of indignity that had spent centuries growing into a blazing inferno of hatred and savage determination.

Angel wanted his freedom. The freedom that Valentino had stolen before Angel even knew what freedom was. He’d spent his whole lifetime being trapped under someone else's control, first his father’s, then his drug dealers, then his clients. Now that he was dead he’d only traded one pair of shackles for another.

As long as Valentino had power, Angel knew he’d never have more than a gilded cage. And Angel was fucking tired of cages. But the overlord wasn’t going to just give up his throne willingly.

Angel tugged his fist free from the brick and mortar wall, unflinching despite his now bloodied and broken knuckles. They would heal quickly enough anyway. Angel wanted his freedom, but there was only one way to get it. It wasn’t going to be easy, and Angel knew he might die trying, but he’d already made up his mind. A sharp, determined grin spread across Angel Dust’s lips.

He was going to kill Valentino.

[zombriekid]

The Devil Takes Care of His Own 3/?? [Alastor/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hazbin Hotel

Chapter Name: Checking In?

Chapter Summary: you’re faced with a dilemma as the happy hotel opens its doors to you

Text from: The Boss

“WHAT. THE FUCK. DID YOU DO, NEWBIE?”

Oh no...

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Fuck... oh fuck, oh god no, please.

“WHY ARE SO MANY OF MY CLIENTS COMPLAINING ABOUT YOU?!”

The drop of your stomach echoes with a fluttering impression, while a surge of heat, abrupt and uncomfortable, licks at the lining of your throat all the way up to your jaw and it bleeds into your ears; the burgundy walls all around you begin to shrink.

“SOWBELLY SAYS YOU BROKE SOME SHOT!”

“*shit you broke some shit”

“AND THAT COFFEE SMELLIN HIPSTER FUCK SAYS-”

With a resounding clack, your phone slips from your grip and plummets to the sturdy countertop below, a noise that makes the three people around you flinch (you notice distantly), but your brain- your outermost awareness- doesn’t even bother. Because your entire world is now summing up to the blurbs of rapid fire notifications assaulting the LCD screen. Message after heated text message just filled to the brim with expletives and threats and perpetual capslock until this massive wall of verbal abuse blurs your vision; makes your head throb in sync with the increasing thump-thump of your heart.

The device vibrates against the bar and its screen lights up with another message alert, this one demanding your immediate response before declaring you a “useless piece of shit”, and then not long after comes a voice mail about a minute in length.

You’re not gonna listen to it though, you’re gonna grovel.

A tap from your right middle finger brings the digital keyboard to the glass, and your digits begin dancing across the letters to formulate what you consider to be a heartfelt apology, and you beg forgiveness for your transgressions as a lowly delivery person.

But three paragraphs in your hand forces a sudden stop; typos in need of amending due to the constant use of the backspace key, an entire sentence underlined by red squiggly lines with no break between the nonsense letters, and without realizing it at some point you accidentally pulled up the emoji list and now thirty percent of your sniveling is made up of a bunch of cartoons. It’s an odd sensation, you think as you stare back at the jargon, a backlog of muscle memory for modern technology yet you can’t even design coherent text messages in order to save face.

In order to save your fucking job.

All because your goddamn useless hands won’t stop fucking shaking.

Suppose it’s a futile effort at this point- your ass is one hundred percent absolutely and totally fired now.

Meaning no money for bills, no money for food, for utilities, for clothes... Here comes your eviction notice- goodbye lumpy mattress, and a fine greeting to the filthy streets of Pentagram City. A steep price for your compulsive philanthropy, go figure that that’s how things operate down here. How bass ackwards.

But that’s alright, that’s okay, you’ve been through worse you think- you’ve been- you’ve...

You’ve suffered through worse before. Homelessness? Ha, nothing compared to the shit you’ve seen willingly, a temporary setback, maybe a coworker will let you sleep on their couch. The new girl, what was her name? Stacy? Yeah, she’s pretty eager she’ll let you crash with her- it’ll give her more of an excuse to “befriend” you but that’s alright. Sacrifice comfort for survival, right?

“Newbie.”

Not the first time, definitely won’t be the last; life in a concrete jungle is such a fickle bitch, especially here in-

“Newbie!”

-here in Pentagram City.

Present time. Post death. Hell. The here and now.

Impossibly small hands are pulling the apples of your cheeks into fleshy bulbs, folding your lips as a pout, and the darkened corners of your vision dim until Niffty’s lone ocular takes precedence in sight; a triad of quick blinks help anchor your focus.

Oh. How wonderful. Yet another episode... how many does that make today? Certainly way more than usual.

You blame the stress.

“Newbie, you okay?” Niffty asks with a tight throat, and a bob of your head delivers your response.

“Just havin’ a... moment. But I’m alright now.”

She glances down to her right in the direction of your phone, still glaring at you from the grainy surface of the bar, and it’s as if you can literally see the gears in her brain start to rotate. You’re fairly certain that she’s about to put two and two together and get four.

“That’s just my own bossman, Mr. Terry. Well, pretty sure he’s my former boss now.”

“Is it cause of today? When you helped me?”

Your knee-jerk reaction is to mindlessly blurt out a response that would confirm her suspicions, but luckily whatever humanity remains in tact notices her pitch- not necessarily concern rather something akin to it paints the undertone- and it clamps your mouth shut with an audible click of your teeth. Because what you were about to do, what you were about to say, be it directly or indirectly that was going to shift at least some of the blame on to her, and that would be completely unfair. The fault doesn’t lie with her. It’s entirely your own. First off the little lady didn’t even ask for your help, she didn’t beckon to you she didn’t plead for interception, you swooping in to “save the day” was your body’s reflexive need to act, to just do something instead of perpetuating the stereotype of morbidly curious bystander. Second, the manner of which how you saved her was incredibly, stupidly sloppy- a path of damage shadowing your trek and all you left behind was a substantial cost of repairs and replacements. Since when was charging through a line of stores ever a good idea?!

No, you made the decision to do something about Niffty’s situation, so you could’ve found a better way to engage it- actually you should’ve found a better way, but your lapse in judgment cost some people tools, resources, products, and even some clientele, thus costing you practically everything, and now Hell is demanding its pound of flesh from someone’s hide.

Don’t let her believe that it may come from her.

“Nah, I accidentally pissed off some clients recently,” you say as you gently take hold of her hands and remove them from your face. “No need to worry about it, kiddo.” Which none of that is a lie in any capacity, sometimes your cleverness does in fact shine through.

Niffty doesn’t seem to think so, though obviously there’s no way for her to know without some form of mind reading, regardless her face falls into a displeased frown complete with round, bulgy cheeks. “I’m not a kid, Newb. Besides you’re younger than me!”

Oh, she’s so friggin precious, you’re gonna miss this youngen. “In terms of dates, sure. But my, uhh, ‘departure time’ so to speak-” you decorate this with air quotes “-gives me some years on ya.”

“Yeah, by a few at most.”

... No? By, like, ten-ish years? Are you missing something?

“Dude I’m pretty sure I died somewhere in my twenties.”

“Okay? And?”

Okay, yeah, you’re definitely missing something. The tingles on the back of your neck prove this.

She’s not a child, is she?

“... Niffty, how old were you when you bought the farm?”

“Twenty two.”

Alright, okay, that’s dope- how long until the next extermination? That’s a thing you’ve heard about, and you’d really love to volunteer yourself to be first in line right about now. The sooner the better, really.

From pit in his stomach comes an eruption of raucous glee, such an intense reaction that it forces Angel Dust- long forgotten until now- to bend until he’s bracing himself with two hands on his knees, the other pair clutching around his heaving abdomen, as he cry-laughs at your expense.

Meanwhile, the feathered feline fellow manning the bar makes a sound in the back of his throat loud enough to reach your ears, and when you give him your attention he deems the conversation relevant enough to glimpse at you from the corner of his amber eyes; there’s a deep green bottle entrapped in his massive paws and with a tip of the neck he takes a hearty swig before he finally mutters whatever is on his mind. You catch a whiff of the unmistakeable odor of bitter, cheap booze.

“Didja really think Niff’s a kid?”

...

Ten minutes.

Ten whole arduous minutes spent enduring rigorous taunting and not-so-light-hearted ribbing from all three demonic compatriots; statements such as “not so bright are ya, smooth talka?” ala Angel and “no wonder you’re so weird” courtesy of Niffty force the tips of your ears to sear with your cheeks quickly following the same trend.

In your defense, Niffty’s rather small stature and youthful disposition makes her seem much younger than she actually (apparently) is, and sincerest apologies to the court but she’s the most humanoid individual you’ve encountered downside- other than Charlie, of course- so how were you to know that she wasn’t a child in danger solely based on the information you were given? It’s not like you had the time to stop and ask!

And if this trio of assholes would take a few moments to consider your perspective then maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to jump straight to mockery, so until they do they can just suck your bits.

____________________________________

Some time passes, you’re unclear on how much for you refuse to even so much as think of your phone right now, and though you’ve yet to receive anything further from Mr. Terry- no more text messages, no more voice mails, no more notifications- and though the hotel’s three residents have retired from their cruelty and are seeking entertainment elsewhere- Niffty on a dusty painting, Husk at the bottom of a bottle, and Angel Dust... doing whatever in another room- still you find no peace.

No respite from this fuster cluck of a situatio.

And you don’t know what you’re going to do about it.

But you gotta do something, can’t let this continue to fester, so take a deep breath: one, two, three, four- and let it out: five, six, seven, eight- and repeat. Clear your head. Think about this logically.

The first step should be an apology, of course, but your gut tells you that a simple “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to, won’t happen again” just wouldn’t suffice- not for a group of pissed off demons at least. And your employment with Mr. Terry is a measly two weeks young, nowhere near enough to build up some sort of history of positive work ethic, so starting with him is practically a fool’s errand already.

After all, your enigmatic boss isn’t known for his mercy.

... maybe...

Maybe you’re on to something with that assessment.

Maybe you shouldn’t apologize to him first but rather save him for last. Work up the list of priorities instead of down.

Starting with the demon you pissed off first: Mrs. Sowbelly.

Two pokes at your back.

A delicate, graceful exclamation of “FUCK!” comes bellowing out of your mouth as the abrupt shock nearly sends your ass careening to the floor, your hands scrambling upon the bar in order to hook stability.

Mere seconds later and you find Charlie over the slope of your shoulder with her right index finger pointed in your direction; the look on her face suggests that your squawking startled her. In this moment your mouth works much faster than your brain and an apology is already leaping off your tongue... that is until you notice the person standing next to her.

Now, not to be rude about it, but there’s nothing inherently striking about this individual; gray tinted skin, long white hair pouring down the length of her spine, a few inches shorter than the blonde at her side, and a large pink eye staring straight at you with something like irritation. For the most part, she looks human- not humanoid like Charlie and Niffty, but like you.

Human.

And that’s why she’s stealing your attention.

“Hey Newbie, I want to introduce you to the Happy Hotel’s manager and my partner, Vaggie.” Charlie says with a somewhat forced smile, likely residual from your outburst.

With your eyes trained on the gal in question, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Howdy, pleasure to meet you.”

Vaggie doesn’t say anything back.

Luckily, however, Charlie keeps the conversation rolling.

“The two of us actually wanted to talk to you about something important. Is... is that okay?”

For your anxiety? Anything that even remotely parallels “we need to talk” is a near guarantee to sending your heart to the racetrack, so no it’s not okay in that regard. That being said, given her response earlier, before Mr. Terry battered you with derisive texts, and the fact that she called the manager/her girlfriend over is... well, you’d be lying if you said that you aren’t intrigued. Skeptical, maybe even paranoid, but intrigued. So you give your consent.

“Cool beans! So, umm, I think I’m just going to cut to the chase here,” she clears her throat, “we want you to stay here. At the Happy Hotel. To be rehabilitated.”

...

....

“I’m sorry, fucking what?”

The question is out before the rest of your body has time to process Charlie’s words, but even when you fully digest the information you’re still left feeling perplexed. What does she mean “rehabilitation”, what all does that entail, why did she have to call her girlfriend for this?

And, oh, how her patience seems to know no bounds for the smile that curls on her lips is soft, and her brow pulls together in what you can only call generosity. Like she understands your confusion; makes you wonder how often she goes through this schtick.

“Allow me to explain our predicament since you’re still new.”

And she does, in great detail, weaving a copper-scented tapestry with threads dyed the shades of suffering and heinous sin. In less pretentious terms, she regurgitates material you’ve only heard in passing. Hell is bursting at the seams with its substantial over population issue, one that only grows more exacerbated with each newcomer, and with limited real estate and even more limited resources the powers that be reached the conclusion long ago that a percentage just... has to go. Enter the exterminators, a team set out from the tippy topside whose sole purpose is to literally slash some numbers in half once a year.

Charlie doesn’t like this, in fact her exact words are “it kills me inside knowing that my people are being systematically annihilated” and honestly they kinda make you equate this to that of a speech from some representative- an authority figure, someone with power, which makes sense if this is her hotel. It’s pretty, the way she feels about the annual genocide, but you’ve yet to hear her alternative solution if she has any to begin with.

As the saying goes, actions do speak louder than words.

That’s when she genuinely explains the hotel’s purpose: to purge the demons of their vices, purify their souls, make right their wrong doings from when they were alive so that they can walk through the pearly gates as a reborn person, faultless and whole. Redemption. Rehabilitation. Because a hotel is only a temporary pitstop between two destinations.

The idea... makes enough sense, you guess.

“I mean, that’s neat, super admirable, and the whole idea of reforming demons instead of just- ya know- offing them sounds way better in comparison. But uhh- what does this have to do with me?”

“Well,” Charlie looks over at Vaggie before advancing her explanation, “you’re new. You haven’t regained your memories yet, your body hasn’t adapted yet, you still have your humanity- I mean you helped Niffty out of a tight spot without any expectation of a reward!”

“Nah, I just did what felt like the right thing at the time.”

“Exactly! We need someone like that here!”

Ah.

Now the picture has clarity.

What Charlie said earlier, “... if I can help just one demon find redemption here then everyone else will believe too!” that was merely another way of saying “we haven’t succeeded yet.” And judging by the way the hotel’s current residents, this motley crew of friends(?), they’ve been trying with people who have been here a lot longer than you have- you, a newbie that hasn’t gone through “the Change” yet, hasn’t full acclimated or been assimilated into the disgusting system of eternal suffering. Like they have. If redemption can be had here it’s more likely to be found with a newcomer like you, and if you can be saved then it’ll prove possible for anyone else.

At least that’s what you’ve surmised from the situation.

It doesn’t sit right with you though.

You did something topside to warrant your arrival here, or maybe you did a lot of things, or maybe you didn’t do enough, you don’t know and that’s the point. You don’t remember. There could be a mountain of skeletons shoved into your closet that you’re completely unaware of and until further notice that’s where they’re going to remain if they even exist.

You. Don’t. Know.

There are way too many unknown variables regarding your past- no, you’re very identity, and though you’ve been reassured on numerous occasions that that’s actually the standard here for newcomers... that doesn’t mean you deserve a second chance. Because who you were may not deserve it.

So don’t waste the room on a potential lost cause, is what you tell them.

“All the more reason to try it now before your memories can influence you.” Vaggie says in a firm voice, the very first you’ve heard her speak. 

And admittedly the logic is sound, you’re not trying to dispute that, it’s just... 

Not you- a clattering racket against the bar top- anyone else may deserve this opportunity- disrupts the conversation- but not you- and it takes all of two seconds to determine the source. It’s your phone, probably Mr. Terry announcing you officially dead to his business.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Still Vaggie.

As of right now, no, you really don’t.

“Residents can board here for free, you just have to stay clean- no sinning, at least as best you can.”

That’s not too bad, you think. Maybe you should-

No! No, one “good deed” doesn’t merit a shot at atonement. It’s not going to negate whatever it is you did to topside to leave you downside.

...but you’re more than likely out of a job now, one that barely paid enough to cover expenses to begin with, and losing your apartment is trailing not that far behind.

“What do you say, Newbie?”

“I-” the sudden dryness in your throat drags forth a minor coughing fit. “I don’t know if I deserve it.”

“Only one way to find out.”

Sacrifice comfort for survival, right?

You take a deep breath. “O-okay. Where’s the check-in sheet?”

____________________________________

a/u: mental health has been a bitch to deal with so i’m sorry that this took longer than i expected. i have half a mind to scrap this and redo it again but i’ma do this funky fresh thing where i stop overanalyzing it and put it out there for y’all to read. still no beta, and still no al yet, but we’re definitely getting c l o s e r, got this bitch all planned out and everything. y’all know the deal by now: like, reblog, and comment; the engagement makes my lil queer kokoro go doki doki

tagged: @kryptum-one @itz-kira @peachesandkats (i’m in love with all three of y’all, just letting you know)

[fanwit]

13 for the ask game

ASK GAME 1-32, send in a random number and I’ll post the WIP snippet!

Ooh, you picked a bit of an intense one. It actually has over 1k words and I can’t bear to cut any of it for this snippet so here’s the whole WIP!

cw suicidal ideation and attempted suicide

The first time, Alastor doesn’t know what to do. There is no rain, no snow, nothing at all to indicate a bad day. It had been surprisingly sunny for most of the day and it had been warm enough Alastor thought it’d be a good idea to go for a short walk in the evening.

The chill is beginning to set in and he doesn’t know what to do. All his training never prepared him for anything like this.

“Arthur.” Alastor stares at Arthur who’s staring back. Arthur’s positioned just right he can push off the ledge and he’d fall before Alastor could even get within a step.

They don’t say anything. Alastor barely knew the man, they had talked occasionally in the lift while waiting to get to their floor but that was pretty much it. Alastor couldn’t tell you a single thing about Arthur’s family other than that he had one. He didn’t know anything about Arthur’s job or if it was stressful and hard. It even had taken him a couple minutes to bring Arthur’s name to mind.

“How are things going?” Alastor asks and Arthur just shrugs.

“Same old, same old.”

Same old, same old, why was Arthur doing this?

“So what’s up with the whole…” Alastor gestures at Arthur and the ledge. Arthur shrugs.

It’s clear Arthur is not going to be forthcoming with his problems. Christ, Alastor wishes he could just order Arthur to tell him or be all intimidating until he breaks and talks. They stare at each other again.

“How are things?” Arthur asks.

“Pretty fine until now.”

“Shame.”

“Yeah.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and another. He’s building himself up. Alastor takes a step and Arthur stiffens. Alastor doesn’t move again. He doesn’t want Arthur to jump into the river.

“You don’t need to do this,” Alastor tries.

“It’s fine.” Arthur shrugs. “They don’t need me.”

His family? His co-worker? Who?

“I’m sure they’ll miss you though.”

“That’ll pass.”

“Does it?”

Alastor does not know the proper procedure. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to agree, to disagree, try to convince him life’s worth living or guilt him into staying. He isn’t equipped at all for suicidal people.

Arthur does not answer.

“How’s, how’s your job going?”

“Fine.”

“You keep saying you’re alright but it doesn’t look like it to me.”

“Yeah.”

Arthur meets Alastor’s eyes and Alastor can see his eyes are puffy. He was crying. He isn’t anymore.

“Anything bad happen today?”

“No. I’m just being stupid.” Arthur shrugs. “Same old, same old.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“Okay.”

There’s nothing Alastor can do. If he gets closer, Arthur’ll jump. If he leaves, Arthur’ll jump. If he pushes Arthur to change his mind, Arthur’ll jump. If Alastor agrees with everything Arthur says, Arthur’ll jump. There’s nothing, nothing, Alastor can think of.

He did not want to witness another death. It doesn’t look like he has any say in it. He never does.

“It’s been nice talking to you, I suppose,” Arthur says quietly.

“Yeah, it’s been nice.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything else for a bit. The roar of the river is louder than ever. The roar of Alastor’s blood is loud in his ears. His hands are shaking.

“Right.” Arthur lifts his head, an unexpected hardness in his eyes. “See ya.”

It all happens so fast. Arthur pushes and Alastor runs forward. The river throws up water and he can’t see Arthur. Alastor doesn’t jump over after Arthur. Instead he runs towards the side and down to the hill and into the river.

It’s cold. Alastor’s struggling to keep his head above the current. He looks around frantically. Nothing. Alastor swims further and further. He feels something soft and dives.

Dragging Arthur over to the bank is hard. Waiting for Arthur to take a breath is even harder. When he finally sputters and sits up a little, Alastor finally relaxes. Alastor knows the danger isn’t over yet but he has to take the little relief he can. Arthur looks up at him dazedly.

Arthur doesn’t have his glasses. Alastor supposes he’ll have to buy a new pair for Arthur. Arthur seems to be fine, isn’t passing out or anything. Alastor shivers from the sudden breeze. Arthur’s chattering his teeth and is shivering harder. Alastor reaches over and Arthur leans into him. They apparate.

He manages to drag Arthur onto the couch and get him undressed. He returns with clothes for Arthur and a new pair of pants he hasn’t used yet. Arthur doesn’t thank him, doesn’t reach out for the clothes.

Alastor returns with a cup of hot chocolate and puts it on the table in front of Arthur. Arthur still hasn’t gotten dressed, just shivering on the couch. Alastor is warm in his new clothes and isn’t looking forward to getting himself more wet from helping Arthur.

Arthur stares blankly down at the cup and doesn’t react when Alastor raises his arms to put a shirt on. He doesn’t react at all, not even when Alastor ends up putting on the pants for him. Alastor takes the towel off the couch, the couch isn’t at much of a risk of getting wet now. He sits back down and Arthur leans into his shoulder.

“You all right?” Alastor asks.

There isn’t a response.

Alastor picks up the cup and brings it to Arthur’s mouth. Neither one of them do anything.

“Not thirsty, that’s fine.” Alastor puts the cup back down.

He is not equipped for this. Why the hell is he stuck with a very much suicidal person? It should be Bones or Shacklebolt or literally anyone else but him. What would Shacklebolt do? Alastor asks himself. Offer a drink. Alastor did that already, it isn’t working. Bones would check Arthur over.

Alastor shifts and pulls out his wand. Arthur doesn’t look over to the wand, just keeps staring blankly at the wall in front of them. Alastor pushes Arthur back and they aren’t touching anymore.

The spell shows nothing. Physically, Arthur is fine. No water in his lungs, no damage to his brain from being oxygen-deprived, nothing. He’s breathing fine. Alastor isn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. If there had been something, he could’ve taken Arthur to St. Mungos. But there isn’t and Alastor can’t do anything. St. Mungos is not known for their mind healing. There’s nowhere Alastor knows that would be good with mind healing.

“Well. You’re alive.” Alastor pats Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur doesn’t look over.

Alastor sighs and picks up the cup of hot chocolate. He takes a sip. It’s lukewarm but still warms him up. Arthur leans back onto Alastor. Alastor just puts an arm around him.

“Stop by next time you feel like that, promise?” Alastor says. Arthur does nothing.

Alastor shouldn’t be doing this. He isn’t prepared for any of that. He has no idea what to do. It had just felt like the right thing to say.

“You’re staying the night, by the way.”

“Okay.” It’s a whisper but it’s something. Arthur turns and buries his head into Alastor’s shoulder. It must be uncomfortable for him, being taller.

Then Arthur starts crying.

“Tell me what you want me to do, please.” Alastor brings his other arm around Arthur. By Arthur’s lack of response, Alastor’s going to hope this is fine.

That’s all they have really. Hope.