#love return with voodoo

[sthilarions]

During a case many years ago, a witch made a poppet (roughly equivalent to the popular conception of a “voodoo doll”) of Edwin. They defeated the witch soundly and got the poppet, but there’s no safe way to destroy it. The only place Edwin and Charles trust as safe enough to keep it is inside Charles’s backpack, where no one but Charles could possibly get to it.

Charles largely forgets about it, buried deep deep down in the bag, until Edwin is held captive, less than a year after their jaunt to Hell, and there’s absolutely no way to get to him until the portal opens again at the next full moon, and he’s going crazy with worry, imagining Edwin in all sorts of misery without Charles not even able to so much as comfort him. He’s digging mindlessly through the bag when he gets to the poppet, and, he realizes, there is this one thing he can do.

He pulls it out with a care he wouldn’t give to a Faberge egg, because this is the most precious thing in the world, in any world, and looks at it for a moment. Then he reaches out ever so gently and strokes its hair. He murmurs reassurances to it - it’s alright, I’m sorry, I love you. He sings lullabies, curls around it and hugs it against him so, so carefully, tilts his head down and presses kisses to its soft curl-covered head.

He doesn’t let the poppet go for even a moment on all the days until the full moon returns, even as he’s preparing for battle, preparing to absolutely fucking obliterate the bastards that are holding Edwin.

Just as the portal opens, he finally places the poppet back in his bag, in the safest, warmest corner. He hefts the arsenal in his arms and strapped to his back and floating around him and charges through.

He tears through the stronghold in minutes, and he does literally mean through - he’s left a trail of smoking rubble behind him where ghost-proof walls used to be - and finally, finally gets to Edwin, and -

“Ah, Charles, there you are. Not to worry, I’m quite alright. There has been some sort of force - “

Charles doesn’t even hear him as he wraps himself around Edwin, and his body follows the same motions it has for weeks now, stroking hair, pressing kisses, murmuring muffled you’re alright I love you you’re alright I’m sorry I love you I’m sorrys into Edwin’s hair, which is even softer in reality than on the poppet, and Edwin says -

“Ah. That was you.”

Charles can’t see or hear anything other than Edwin, at the moment, but he can’t not see Edwin, so he has a very clear view as Edwin reaches his arms out and, with a few words, takes control of all the magical weapons and orbs and so forth that have been trailing after Charles.

And he hears when Edwin says “Well, then, Charles, shall we depart?”

And he feels it when Edwin lifts him as effortlessly as he lifted the poppet, holding him so he can keep his nose buried against Edwin’s neck as Edwin blasts his way out.

And he definitely feels it when, a few very loud minutes later, they’re back in their office, and Edwin’s head turns to meet one of his kisses.

“It’s alright, Charles. I’m sorry I left you alone. I love you.”

[zae-heeyyy]

Aegis II

Summary: Arthur returns from Guarma Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 2,006 Tags: family, girl dad Arthur, angst, mid-honor Arthur Warnings: Mostly angst, no happy ending

previous

An: Part II to Aegis and another anon request to break your heart. Read at your own risk, I'm warning you.

Lakay’s spellbound energy had finally gotten to you. You could only conclude that some voodoo priestess must’ve cursed this land by punishing intruders with hallucinations of their long-lost loved ones. This hex began with the silhouette of a light-haired bearded centaur materializing down the path, torturing your soul with the crushing weight of hope. With a ghastly cackle, she revealed the beast to be Micah Bell, the antithesis of your husband. The image of him instead of Arthur tugged fiercely on your heartstrings. But maybe the priestess was merciful after all because, alongside venom and rot, he carried Arthur’s name and word of life on his tongue. Hours spent waiting felt like nothing compared to the entire lifetime you thought you’d have to endure without him.

Rain clouds washed away the color of the bayou, making everything shades of brown and gray. Half delirious from a lack of sleep, you second-guessed yourself when you heard the steady clop of hooves on dirt. As if from a dream, a black and white Hungarian Half-breed emerged through the fog with the sunshine of your heart, Arthur Morgan, at the reins. Parts of your life flashed before your eyes in the brightest prism of colors—memories of making love under red patterned blankets, kissing alongside orange and yellow flames, dancing barefoot on soft green grass, cuddling against striped blue cotton, and prancing through fragrant fields of lavender. It all could’ve just been a figment of your imagination, but you knew it was real. You knew you were awake. You knew you were alive. And thank God, so was he.

Sharp curves of his ribs dug into yours as you threw yourself into his arms, and though the weight of you was heavier than he’d remembered or perhaps he’d gotten weaker, he still held you up as you fell limp against him, your mouth open in a screaming wail, a concoction of relief, heartbreak, and joy. He realized he hadn’t spoken a word since stepping back on US soil, and he choked your name out in a stunned whisper. Though your tears were soaking through his shirt, he could relax because he was home.

Every time he repeated your name, he squeezed you tighter. The closer he brought you to him, the louder you wailed as if he were wringing out every drop of anguish that had accumulated since he’d been gone.

“I’m here, beautiful. I’m here. S’okay...S’okay….”

Lost in him, you didn’t even notice the squelch of bare feet growing closer from behind. Arthur saw her before you did, and his whole body stiffened. Relief hammered at his knees, and he couldn’t stand anymore. He didn’t want to let you go, but his grip slackened as he sank slowly to the ground. You went with him, both of you lowering yourselves to meet the tiny, fragile thing standing before you. Her eyes looked to you first, and you smiled at her, holding back more sobs.

“Look, baby. Daddy’s home.”

But she didn’t move. Smile vanishing, you rose hastily to get to her. You knew that look anywhere: fear. From her eyes, this man was just a shell of her daddy. Everything about him was wrong. Wrong length of beard, wrong, dirty clothes, wrong sunburnt skin, wrong bloodshot eyes, and wrong sunken cheeks. You’d scooped her up and moved her hair out of her face, your eyebrows scrunched together in motherly concern, but her eyes weren’t on you. They were looking past your shoulder at the stranger who used to be her father.

The scene unraveled like the Creation of Adam. Arthur reached out, leading with his index finger like he had since the day she was born. He cleared his throat first before speaking.

“Honeybee…”

But unlike the fresco, Beatrice didn’t reach back. Instead, she screamed. She screamed a terrible, gut-wrenching cry.

In her young mind, someone had kidnapped her sunflower and picked his petals clean, leaving only a wilted stalk in his place. Arthur felt like a monster—like the ugliest bastard that ever lived. Before you and before Beatrice, Arthur wondered if he’d even had a heart. Now, he knew he did because it was being forcibly ripped out. His hand dropped to his side, and his face straightened into hardened lines. As his eyes lost focus, you knew he was building a fort around his heart because if he didn’t, it would shatter and never come back together again.

Beatrice Morgan, Beatrice Morgan, Beatrice Morgan, Beatrice Morgan.

At night, on Guarma, when he was trying to sleep, he’d write the letters of her name on his skin. The distant memory of her laugh was the only thing that gave him enough comfort to finally drift off. Thinking he’d never get to see either of you again was painful, but not being able to hold his baby girl was torture.

You bounced and shushed her while meeting his hollow eyes. Since before you were married, you had whole conversations with a gaze. You could compliment each other, check-in, and lust after each other through your eyes. This time, it was a silent apology as you whisked her away, walking fast towards one of the shacks. Arthur tried to follow, but now word of his return was out, and he was swallowed in the embrace and cheers of the gang. Though Beatrice had run out of tears, she didn’t let you leave her side for the rest of the day, clinging to your shirt any time you moved.

Days ago, a sea away and now only a room away, but the distance between you and Arthur still felt monumental.

Under the waves of your sorrow swam dreadful truths you couldn’t bear exposing to surface light. Truth: you’d given up on the thought of ever seeing him again. Truth: you’d mourned him—was still mourning him when he washed ashore that dirt path past dual skulls impaled on sticks. Truth and bitter shame: in a sleep-deprived haze, your patience with your daughter had been ground to a fine powder. Fed up with her anguished cries, cries for her daddy, you’d told her to hush up, that crying wouldn’t bring him back, that nothing would, because he was dead, and she screamed and screamed, and screamed until she couldn’t.

Getting her to sleep was a losing game, as always. Just as she quieted down for the night, Bill burst through the cabin, his booming voice waking her once again. Bill had barely stopped his yapping when a shout—the shouting of Death himself silenced the cabin. You threw your body over your little girl, shielding her with your life before Milton could even finish his speech. This had to be hell. Scripture that Reverend Swanson had drunkenly spewed rattled your mind as a Gatling gun wreaked havoc on the shack. Bullets and splitting wood were the furnace of fire and gnashing of teeth, and the weeping was your daughter screaming from beneath you.  

The gunfire ceased, and Dutch’s voice carried through camp, but you couldn’t hear a word over your violent retching.

It was almost the crack of dawn when you’d got Beatrice to settle into a restless sleep. Arthur had been waiting close by, and you left him to have a moment with her before he followed you out onto one of the docks. He didn’t get a word in. The conversation bounced back and forth, neither of you letting the other finish.

“Arthur, you have to get us out of here. We gotta leave. Beatrice, me, you, and—”

“I gotta go get John. Me and Sadie, I can’t just leave him. Abigail, and little Jack—”

“Fine, get John, but after that—”

“After that, I gotta do something for Dutch.”

The murky water rippled as a cottonmouth water snake swam by.

“For Dutch?”

No response. Someone watching from behind would’ve thought you sobbing so hard to make your body shake, but Arthur knew better. You were laughing—laughing without an ounce of amusement.

“You know, I’ve heard a lot of foolishness from you, but after last night, after everything—you gotta do some things for Dutch?”

Arthur knew, deep down, that you were right. One day, he’d get it through his thick skull that you were always right. Today wasn’t that day, though.  

“You ain’t the only one I gotta take care of,” he growled, but you barked right back.

“Now that’s one thing you got right you goddamn moron! It ain’t just me you gotta take care of.” You started counting on your fingers. “You need to get your head out of your ass and start worrying about taking care of me, Beatrice, and–” You swallowed hard, dropping your head, “And your baby.”

This wasn’t how you wanted to tell him. You wanted the next baby to be celebrated, to be thought about as a gift to the world instead of a crippling burden. When you lifted your head, sorrowful, pitiful eyes stared back at you.

His memories shuffled at full speed like a deck of cards in the hands of a Blackjack dealer. A face card fell into place, Shady Bell, then the Ace, the party. Blackjack.

Beatrice fell asleep outside, exhausted from the celebrations. Tilly offered to stay with her so Arthur didn’t have to carry her up the stairs.

You were so beautiful, laid up under him; he couldn’t help himself when he spilled inside of you. It’d only been a month and a half ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.

“Darlin,’ he started, outstretching his hand, but you couldn’t even look at him.

“Kept gettin’ sick after you went missing. Thought I was just heartbroken, but…”

He waited for you to finish, but you were tired of fighting for something that didn’t seem to matter to him anymore. You weren’t going to wait for him to find the right words, and you weren’t going to wait for him to make up his mind, so you left him with a final warning.

“I suggest you figure out where your loyalties lie, Arthur, before it’s too late.”

You could hear Susan yelling at Pearson from one of the cabins and decided going to his rescue couldn’t be worse than this. After finishing one chore and moving to the next, you stopped in your tracks. Though you couldn’t see them, their voices carried, Dutch’s more so than Arthur’s.

“Arthur, do you have my back?”

“Always Dutch, but there’s more than your back to worry about. I got a family. My wife, my little girl, and—” he paused but continued shortly after, “my wife, my little girl,” he repeated, “and a baby on the way.”

Silence, then...

“My my, how a woman we love changes us.”

“I ain’t changed, Dutch.”

Then Dutch’s laugh cut through the air, making you flinch, “Oh, you have, my son. You have changed.”

“Dutch I–”

And Dutch cut him off, “Yes, Arthur, you. You and your family. What about this family? You gonna abandon the rest of us just cause we ain’t your flesh and blood?”

You didn’t wait around for his answer. Arthur and Charles left for Roanoke Ridge, and you pretended to pack for the move to the next hellhole. But you weren’t going, not anymore. You were getting out. You were saving yourself, your daughter, and your unborn baby with or without Arthur.

The gunslinger didn’t have time to process anything in the chaos of Beaver Hollow. Only when the dust had settled and Molly’s corpse was drug away did he notice your heavy absence. Before he could even ask, Tilly wielded a sword disguised as a letter.

“M’sorry, Arthur.”

Mist built up in his eyes, and he had to blink rapidly to clear it away. He couldn’t tell if the tightening in his throat was from a building cough or suffocating guilt and regret. That lovely voice in his mind’s ear that once upon a time made him feel like the luckiest man alive was now speaking the words that would surely lead him spiraling head first to his untimely demise.

My Dear Arthur…

[dragonbornphoenix]

For the @drarrymicrofic | prompt: ground 187 words

The Language of Love ☕

Ground coffee. Draco’s gift to me every time he returns from his travels. Different blends, different flavours. Brands I’ve never heard of.

The taste is exquisite, the aroma divine. Where he finds them is anyone’s guess. How much they cost, I dare not think.

I made the mistake of asking him once. He spent the next half hour recounting how he had to harvest the coffee beans on his own while being chased by a cannibal tribe. A voodoo ritual was involved and a long sword fight atop a moving vehicle. It sounded suspiciously like Pirates of the Caribbean. The funny thing is there’s a chance he was telling the truth.

He calls me a heathen for drinking ‘Death’s discarded bathwater’ instead of tea. Yet he spent a month researching coffee makers before he bought me one for Christmas.

He has a different bag for me today, fresh from his latest trip. It's colourful and glossy. He plops it on my desk as if it’s a burden, the punishment for his former sins.

“I brought you coffee,” he says. What he means is “I love you.”

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 13 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13 (here) — Part 14 — Part 15 — Part 16 — Epilogue

The moment has come. Everything, from the moment you’ve return to now, has been for this very entertaining event. A legendary event where the biggest change in your collection will be announced to the entirety of Hell by the end of it, a show of the approved Overlords

Of course, your existent was never announced. The Sinners were all under the impression that to gain the title of ‘Overlord’ the previous Overlords that are still in power must approve of them, that was how the Overlords grow, decrease, or change from time to time. That was also the reason why during Carmilla’s Overlord gatherings, some self-proclaimed Overlords would show up to prove themselves

In the past, because such an event was announced to all of Hell, some daring souls made their way to the meeting to showcase their potential. The first few times it happened was amusing so you allowed it and let your Overlords have free rein over the consequences of such trespassers. Soon, it annoyed you how your Collection fell for bribes and selfish deal makers, so you put an end to it

The only few that survived your wipe out was Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie. They were also the only ones of your current collection to have attended this meeting. You knew for a fact that Zeezi heard about it from them, as did Alastor hence why he had the guts and knowledge to ask you about it

You figured the next time this meeting would be held was for some interesting matters. You’ll be thoroughly entertained for sure. A name Zestial suggested for such an occasion stuck with you and you’ve come to call this ‘Feast of the Unwanted’

An idea click in your mind and a paper and quill formed beside you, your finger twirled as the quill moved along the blank sheet of paper, ink marking the page at your command and thoughts. A smile spread, yes, let’s make this day as entertaining and dramatic as possible

“My, my, looking rather dashing if I do say so myself.” Alastor grinned while his head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed at the appearance of the winged cat demon before him. “Dressed to impress I see.”

“Well, I gotta.” Husk grinned back. The training and support from Alastor made him turn over his impression of his soul’s owner. A second chance granted to him with something he desired on the line for his success. While your presence wasn’t always there to guide him, Alastor was and did more than he expected. It wasn’t a bad thing, in fact, it was perfect for him to hone his skills once more and build his strength. Still, it was unnerving that Alastor was treat him like an equal. “Can’t put this chance to waste.”

Alastor’s form turned sinister as voodoo symbols appeared around him, “Disappoint My Liege under any circumstances and you will regret having wasted by time catering to you.”

“Understood.”

Alastor snapped back to his usual form, “Lovely.” He raised his card that glowed with an aura, his powers seeped into it and turned into an Aconite flower to which he placed in his chest pocket. It glowed and a vortex appeared before him. “See you on the otherside.”

Bells chimed, signaling the arrival of another participant. The seated individuals looked up from their refreshments to the direction where the entrance they appeared through were. Alastor paid his respect to you with a bow before greeting his fellow Overlords seated around you in their little booth that hovered over the ‘floor’

You gave Alastor a knowing smile and directed to his booth that was near to your throne. He took his time walking to his place, his shoes clicking the surface he walked over. The said surface was just a transparent floor that encased screaming and crying souls you have no time to care for and discarded them to endless limbo

The room seemed endless and confined at the same time. With the booths all designed to their seater’s theme, it all made a circle before you to see everyone. Within their little booth was their own chair and a table of refreshment that would refill everytime something was consumed

Noticably, there was one dull looking booth amongst the ten booths. Those that were present before knew of its meaning and those that are certaintly not dumb would also be able to guess its meaning. Yet, there were two familiar themes that some would expect to sit in the same booth but was now separated

And the one theme that no one expected would make a comeback

Another chime of the bells made everyone look to the entrance with interest and eagerness. Who was it? Who would be the last to make their appearance?

The vortex appeared and a figure stepped out of it. While Alastor’s grin grew, the rest gasped and their eyes widened. As surprised and shocked as they were none dared to open their mouths in question after they eyes landed on the flower peeking out of the coat pocket. A lotus flower. The first time in history, a discarded soul is returning to the collection

Husk approached your throne and kneeled before you, bowing his head low. You hummed in delight, Alastor has taught his alleycat well, it was as if this Husk was different from the one you’ve found. You dismissed the changed demon to his booth while everyone watched with piercing gaze

Now there was one demon missing from the grand play

Soon enough, the bell chimed its last ring. Everyone perked up as another vortex materialized before the star of the feast appeared. Everyone’s eyes honed in on the flower on their person. A singular Appleyard London

Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie all shared glances behind their cup of beverage, knowing full well the meaning behind all the flowers you picked out for your invited souls. While Zeezi and Alastor could guess from their prior knowledge in the language of flowers. Velvette and Vox, however, felt like they both dodged a bullet when they instinctively eyed their flowers

Valentino gave you a bow as he stood in front of you, after being directed to his lonely booth, he turned his heel and made his way there. Not even hiding the anger and betrayal he felt when he saw Velvette next to Carmilla’s booth and Vox’s place next to Zestial. Valentino’s booth was right between Rosie and Zeezi

But there was another detail that didn’t escape even Valentino

“What?! What the flying f*** is this sh*th*le doing here!?” Valentino pointed an accused finger at Husk who merely took a sip from his glass. 

“I was invited. Just like you.” Husk answered with a grin. “Say, are you lonely without your buddies?”

“You definitely sneaked in here…” Valentino growled, he smirked as he pulled out his smoke pipe, inhaling a puff of smoke, “Let me deal with you.”

Before the exhaled gas could even do its damage, Husk’s wings expanded as he got up from his seat, his wings made a powerful flap that diffused the coloured gas within seconds. “Gotta do better than that. Loser.”

Valentino growled, “You piece of—”

Clapping sounds halted the little spat. You continued to clap your hands together slowly while everyone’s attention turned to you, and they immediately noticed the smile on your face. “Not even a word from me to signal the start of today’s gathering and there’s already an immature argument happening.” Your head tilted toward Husk, “I’ll forgive you since it’s been a while, but…” Your face turned in Valentino’s direction, your tone dropped to a chilling danger, “Have you learned nothing from the last time?”

“Mmm!” Valentino was pressed into the ground like the insect he was, his wings spread open while his entire body was forced down. He choked out as best he could, “I’m s- I mean… My deepest… Apologies…!”

Husk bowed with his wings lowered around him, “I apologise for lowering to Valentino’s level.”

With the wave of your hand, they were wordlessly made to return to where they were assigned. When everything finally calmed down, you clapped your hand just once. All refreshments disappeared and luxurious silverware replaced them, everyone was sitting on the longer side of a long table in their custom chairs

Your line of knight puppets appeared, all holding onto a dish with a mouthwatering aroma. The knights’ clanking armours were the only thing making any form of noise, they stopped between everyone’s seats and placed their respective dishes in the empty space on the table. Your doll puppets appeared next and placed an assortment of drinks on the table by the dishes

You held up your glass and proposed a toast, everyone hastily following suit. You officially started the “Feast of Desire”, ommiting the name of the gathering and just calling it a feast. Then you welcomed everyone to partake in the dishes before them

You made sure to have everyone’s prefernce on the table, including Rosie’s cannibal meals and Alastor’s deer dishes. As time went on, more dishes were placed on the table and the cleaned plates were removed to make more space

The former participants of your feast started making conversation, showing the new members what was allowed and what wasn’t. Soon, small talk was all around. You’ve inputted your thoughts and responses here and there, but it was mostly your Overlords that did the talking

This session used to be put to the end when all your matters were resolved and there was a number for this particular gathering. But you thought it would be more amusing to watch who was included in conversation and what was excluded. There was a reason why you’ve placed Husk, Velvette, and Vox in the middle and next to one of the more favoured souls, while Valentino was casted off to the far end

It was obvious that Valentino tried to join in or be involved, but it was all for not since none of your wise souls were falling for the obvious pity route that could put them in a bad position

This gathering was more than a meeting, chat, and meal together, it was a gathering where the biggest change is set. Those with a poor position is at risk of a fall out, but it doesn’t mean those of favour can stay indefinitely. Since this is where your judgement is passed without delay or mercy

Once the meal was done, all hell breaks lose

You hummed with a cruel smile. At the llight ring from the contact your spoon made to the glass, all whispers and conversations were put to a halt, and all attention was on you while your puppets cleared the table. “Now, let this little… Judgement Day begin.”

Flower Meanings: Aconite flowers are highly toxic and have been historically associated with death and danger, symbolizing the pain of toxicity or harm The Lotus flower is immensely spiritual and can represent rebirth and resurrection. It can subsequently be used to celebrate a range of new chapters and journeys Their colour may chiefly be associated with sunny optimism, but in the language of flowers, yellow carnations represent disdain, disappointment and rejection. The striped variety signifies refusal

Note: The meeting's underway!! This series is reaching its end cause there's not much left now. I think it'll end at 15/16, plus an Epilogue. Then idk about the continuation after Hazbin Hotel's second season cause this series' ending changed a lot of stuff. Anyways, what you think of this one?

Part 14 is done, but I'll give this part some time to become more known before I update again.

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

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[dramas-vs-novels]

Love Storm Special Chapter: Payu vs A Busy Architecture Student (Excerpt)

** Rain is occasionally referred to by his real name, Warren/Varain.

8PM

Payu makes a turn to a house where all lights are on. He knows it's not his twin brother, but it's the boy who almost has moved in. He parks his vehicle, grabs everything in one hand, and walks into the house. He stops by the kitchen and finds only an empty bowl of instant noodles in the sink, but the one who ate it is nowhere to be found downstairs.

Payu shakes his head slowly at the sight he's seen. He places his belongings on the dining table, grabs a new plate and fills it with stir-fried rice, and puts it in the microwave.

While he waits for the food to be reheated, he pours water into a glass.

Ding!

Now that the meal is ready to serve, he puts it on a tray along with a spoon and a glass of chilled water, then he walks upstairs. He's going straight to his office which is now... taken over.

It used to be the room where he did his work, until one day, the boy took it over and changed it into his 'nest'.

Why is it called a nest? Well, aside from his books well-placed on shelves and the desktop computer that has been shut down for a month or so, everything else is a complete mess. The giant work desk that used to be his workstation has now served as a stand for a compact laptop and piles of documents. The floor is scattered with wood chips and paper scraps. Not to mention those tools and equipment laid randomly all over the place.

And the one who created this mess is currently focused on the mock-up in his hand. He doesn't seem to notice that his significant other is already back home.

"Rain, I'm home."

"Oh, you're back?"

Warren, the young lad who's now a sophomore, calls back while he's still busy working on the model. He doesn't even take a glance at Payu who is now placing his dinner on the desk for him.

"Did you eat?"

"Mm-hmm." And now Rain doesn't even listen to his question.

"When?" Payu shakes his head and asks.

"Mm-hmm."

"Aren't you hungry."

"Mm-hmm."

Whatever the question is, the answer would be nothing more than 'mm-hmm'. The younger man is still concentrating on his unfinished work. Payu sighs, as he doesn't know what else to do. He looks at his boyfriend; the face that used to be bright now becomes pale. The eyes that used to be lively become dull. The dark circles under his eyes makes him look like was under some voodoo influence. All in all, this is what you look like when the deadline is around the corner but your work is far from being 'done'.

Stepping up to a higher year means that workload is shifting to another level, and choosing a major is completely different to studying fundamental subjects, unlike when freshmen got themselves oriented from a high schooler to a college student. Warren needs to adapt himself, and that has turned him from an adorable, clingy boy to a busy, hard-working man.

The time when Payu goes to sleep is the time when Rain wakes up and works on his project, and the time when Payu goes to work is the time when Rain goes to sleep.

Payu knows really well what the life of an architect student is like, so he has never been mad when his boy is occasionally occupied with something else. Though in the times before, when Rain still had plenty of free time and he was busy with work- both his full-time job and his duties at the garage- Payu could still manage to spare some time to spend it with his beloved Rain. He truly understands; he used to be a student before.

Rain used to be the one who prepared his breakfast and dinner, now it is the time that he does the same in return.

If you're wondering how come Warren has dwelled himself in this place, it's not so complicated. Payu's residence is much closer to the university, and as much as he could cut off the time for travelling between the two places, he's willing to trade anything. Payu chuckles when he looks back on the day when his boyfriend first asked if he could leave his work here.

So, eventually, his house has become a dorm for his little partner.

*Pat*

"Rain, you need to eat," Payu says as he places his hand on the shoulder of the younger one who's ready to doze off any minute.

"Huh? Woah! When did you come back?" The young man who was paying attention only to his work finally looks up and makes eye contact. He acts dumbfoundedly the way he always does and gets teased by the big boyfriend. However, Payu knows better this time, so he locks his playful words away and says something nice instead.

"I have something for you here. Why don't you eat it first and then get back to work?"

Payu nods his head towards the stir-fried rice. Rain's eyes follow his direction, but...

"I'll have it later. Soon," Rain replies with extreme fatigue and returns to his work. Payu shakes his head.

*Chu*

"Anything I can help with?" The tall one bows down to kiss his boy's cheek and asks with care.

"Nah, I'm fine. I'm fine." The little one meets his eyes and forces a smile, but Payu can sense that he doesn't have that much energy left.

"I got this. Aren't you tired? Don't mind me. Go feed yourself and rest." Rain tries to make it sound lively while his eyes are turning red. Payu can't help it but hug his boy for the sake of encouragement.

"Yeah, you got this, good boy," Payu says softly.

*Grab*

Warren hugs back. He throws his arms around Payu's waist, sinks his face in that lean abdomen, takes a deep breath, and eventually lets go.

"I got this." The younger man smiles and gets back to work again. He didn't ask for help, though he knew that this big guy could be a good helper.

Meanwhile, Payu also knows that Rain is pushing himself to the limit, but the little one insists on not getting any help, so he just pats Rain's head and turns around, leaving the room and making no more distractions for the college boy.

The true owner of the house walks downstairs to have his dinner, then he gets back upstairs to take a shower. After that, he turns on his laptop, checks his work a little bit, and returns to the 'nest', just to find out that the little bird is still busy on his computer, typing continuously. It's pretty obvious that he'll stay up until morning again, like he does every day. Payu takes a glance at the meal he brought for Rain earlier...

It remains untouched.

He picks up the dish and gets it reheated one more time, then he places it back in the same spot.

The last thing he sees before he heads to his bedroom is the picture of Warren wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand as if to remove his tears.

---

---

The next day, Payu returns home at the same hour with two boxes of dinner and does what he has been doing these days; he reheats the food and brings it upstairs to the little bird in the nest.

"Rain! Are you all right??"

Rain, who has been working hard day after day, is now bawling his eyes out while trying to complete his task. His hands are shaking as he assembles his mock-up piece by piece. Payu puts down the tray quickly and dashes to check on his boyfriend. He grabs Rain's shoulders and forces him to meet his eyes.

"What happened? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, just let me work," Rain replies in a trembling voice and pushes away Payu's hands.

"You can come back to it later. Now, tell me what happened."

*Slap!*

"Leave me alone!"

Suddenly, the one who can't stop crying slaps the big guy's hand and shouts. His yell stuns Payu; his face becomes pale and his eyes are all red.

"Rain?" Payu calls his little bird's name. His voice doesn't sound reprimanding, but comforting.

"What happened? I got scolded again, that's what happened! Why the fuck did I choose this school? Why the hell does he have to scold me all the fucking time? Why do I have to work on this shit that I'll never get done in time? Now that you heard it, leave! I'm busy working here! I need to work!" The sleepless one screams and breathes heavily. He locks his eyes on Payu as if he's ready to tear him to pieces.

The elder can only sigh.

*Grab*

Payu pulls Rain into the circle of his arms and holds him tightly, ignoring the way Rain tries to push him off in protest. He holds the little one like that for a moment before he lets go.

"All right, all right, I got it. I won't bother you anymore." That's all he says before he quietly leaves the room and lets the boy work on his project like he requested.

---

---

*Whoosh*

"I'm sorry, Payu! *sob* I'm sorry!"

Payu had just had his second bite when the upset boy ran downstairs and hugged him from behind. Rain sinks his face in Payu's shoulder and sobs hard. Payu stops eating, pushes himself a bit further away from the table, making a space big enough to let the sobbing boy sit on his lap.

"Come here."

Rain follows his partner's order without hesitation. He still keeps his face buried in Payu's shoulder as Payu rubs Rain's back.

"I'm sorry Payu. Please don't get mad. *Sob* Please, don't be mad at me!" The temperamental one who has now repented is pleading for forgiveness. His voice trembles and tears keep streaming down his face into Payu's shirt. Rain shivers, holding his arms around Payu's neck as if it's the last life preserver in a raging sea.

"I'm not mad."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be... throwing tantrums at you. I know you're worried about me, but I- *sob*- still went wild at you."

The more he talks, the harder he cries. Payu smiles and hugs the stubborn kid tightly. Knowing how heavy things are for Rain at the moment, Payu can't be mean to him, even just for fun.

"Apology accepted, and I'm not mad at you."

Seeing how cool his partner is, a stream of tears drips down Rain's cheeks. He shivers as if he has lost it all.

Rain has no idea how long it has been. He just keeps crying and crying until he can't anymore. He only knows that he has been tolerating things for weeks, and it's time to spill.

"I was given an earful again. Whatever I've done, it's never good enough for the professor. Whether it's too good or too bad, I've never heard anything good from him. I can't take it anymore. I keep asking myself what the hell I'm doing in this fucking shool. Why do I have to work while the others are enjoying their time with their family and friends? Why do I have to be stuck with this shit that never meant anything to the professor?!" Rain expresses everything in his mind as he still has his arms locked around his partner.

"I just want to be with you, want to spend my time with you, so I'm trying to get it done, but it's never done!" The younger man continues and sinks his face into Payu's shoulder again.

He missed this cozy hug like crazy.

They've been under the same roof for quite a while, but it seems like he hasn't talked to Payu for years.

All he has ever wanted is to have time for a bear hug like this with Payu. However, he unexpectedly got infuriated and lost his temper on someone who's been taking good care of him instead.

Meanwhile, Payu carefully reads between the lines. He looks into the boy's hollow eyes which have now turned red again and pulls Rain to his feet.

*Swoosh*

"Payu!"

Rain shouts, surprised, as Payu lifts him up and takes him back upstairs. The younger one fears that his mate might want something more than a hug. Nonetheless, he has to admit that he wants it just as much. He's also human, and he's not insensible. It's been three weeks, and right now just the touch of a hand makes his body hot from head to toe. He needs more than just a touch too, but he can't do it because tomorrow is the due date for his project. He can't do what he wants right now. Not yet.

And that thought also upsets him, making him mad at the subject he's been studying.

"Shhh. I won't do anything," Payu whispers as he puts Rain on the bed and pulls the blanket up to cover him. "You need some rest."

"But my work-"

"Just rest, at least for an hour. I'll wake you up. From what I saw, it doesn't seem like you have so much left to do."

Payu rests his arm on the pillow and rubs Rain's belly with the other hand as if he's trying to make a three-year-old go to sleep. Rain, who hasn't gotten enough sleep in days, inches closer to his partner.

He's too tired to refuse Payu's care.

Though he realizes that a whole night wouldn't be enough to finish his project, he trusts Payu's words. He believes he can make it in time.

"Get some rest, big boy. You've done your best, and you've got nothing to worry about. I know how you're feeling, and I can wait. But right now, you need to take care of yourself," Payu whispers in his ear, and it somehow sounds like a lullaby. The little owl starts his journey to dreamland bit by bit and finally snores gently.

Payu moves a strand of hair out of Rain's fatigued face. He really loves his little owl.

"How can I be mad at you when you're working so hard?"

Payu kisses his beloved bird's forehead, gets out of bed, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.

One thing Rain has forgotten is... Payu graduated with highest honors.

---

---

*Whoosh*

"Holy-!! What time is it?!"

Rain feels like he's having deja vu like when he was a freshman and woke up and couldn't hand in his work in time. This time, he wakes up to a bright sky, meaning he slept all night long, not an hour like Payu promised!

He grabs his phone and checks the time, it's 6am.

Right, there is still time for submission, but that amount of time isn't enough for him to finish his model, no matter how hard he hurries.

The young man gets up instantly and runs into the room where he left his work, feeling dreadful. However...

"Oh, you're up?"

"Payu- is that?"

His big eyes get bigger. Not only does he see Payu in the room, but he also sees... the finished mock-up in Payu's hands.

Rain literally jumps, not to the masterpiece done according to the blueprint, but to the man who's still in his unchanged clothes from yesterday.

"Were you-" Rain stammers, "Did you spend all night on this?"

Rain speaks with a shaking breath. He knows that this hour is the time when Payu gets up and gets ready for work, so it means that the man didn't sleep all night to help him with his mock-up. Rain wells up, feeling guilty for being trouble for the big man.

*Hug*

"Why are you crying? Have you forgotten what I said when I asked you to be my boyfriend?" Payu throws his arms around the little man's waist. He actually wants to wipe the tears, but his hands are too dirty.

"I told you that I can help you with anything. I didn't graduate summa cum laude (with highest honors) for nothing. If you need help, just ask for it. I'm always ready to give you a hand." Payu tries to comfort his boyfriend, but that doesn't stop him from crying.

"But I didn't want to be a bother! You were already tired from work."

"What are you to me?" Payu asks sternly.

"Your boyfriend." Rain's voice trembles. Payu just told him that it's not a bother at all to help his partner. However...

"Wrong."

Payu stands up, looking at a boy who's actually looking better than he did last night, but right now becomes wilted again when Payu tells him he's wrong.

"You're not just my boyfriend. You're my love."

The'yre actually more than that, as we all know.

Rain smiles upon hearing that and throws his arms around Payu, hugging him tightly.

"Can I really ask for your help?"

"Of course. And how can I not help my dear boy? Staying up for a night won't kill me, ya know? Been there, done that, way before you. Remember?" Payu says lightly as he squeezes the tiny young man in his embrace and rocks him gently to comfort him. Rain beams and laughs for the first time all month.

"And don't take it personally when you get scolded. I mean by the professor. But when it is too much to take, just spill. I'm always ready to be a listening ear. Understood?"

Rain shakes his head vigorously and hugs Payu tightly.

"Thank you so much Payu, really."

"I won't ask for anything in return, except..."

"Except what?" Rain looks up to meet the tall man's eyes, and Payu gives him a firm answer.

"You give me thirty minutes a day, having dinner with me. That would be enough."

That's all he would ask for.

Architecture students never have much free time. Therefore, anyone wanting to date them must understand this condition.

After hearing Payu's request, Rain hugs him tightly and accepts it with a shaky voice. Then the young one who used to fail in time management keeps apologizing for his past guilt and promises he will do better.

Payu once said that Rain must not leave out his own responsibilities just to date someone, and he forgot that he could love someone and stay committed to his school duties at the same time.

"I promise. I'll have more time with you, and I'll manage my time better."

"Don't push yourself too much. Just have me in your thoughts when you have free time. That's enough," Payu says with great affection. He kisses the shiny forehead of someone who skipped bathing last night and hugs him loosely. He looks at the younger man who is now shaking his head vigorously, knowing very well that it's almost impossible to have free time if you're studying in the architecture school. So he doesn't need much, just a couple of minutes to be in Rain's mind when Rain is tired will do. He only needs Rain to know he cares about him.

"But that's what I've been doing all of the time."

"Right? And now my baby boy needs to take a shower and get ready to hand in his work. Otherwise, all my effort will just be in vain," Payu says lightly. If he doesn't loosen his embrace, this gecko won't get off him, and they'll be late. Rain shakes his head.

"Uh-uh. I give you my word, I won't fail you this time." Rain says firmly, then lets go of the tall man, running to the bathroom.

After that, Rain gets dressed. When he comes out, he sees Payu is ready to roll. Payu used another bathroom.

"Rain," Payu calls. Rain turns around and sees a brilliant smile.

"You wanna eat something special this evening?"

"Nah," Rain shakes his head and continues with a more delighted voice.

"Everything is special when I'm with you."

Upon hearing that, Payu knows right away that he's willing to wait until the younger one has time for him.

It's okay, Rain. There's only a couple of years ahead until you graduate. I can wait.

Payu thinks as he sees Rain off in his car.

At the same time, Rain looks in the rearview mirror; Payu is standing there, waving goodbye. Then he looks at the mock-up that was completed by his boyfriend and grips the steering wheel tighter.

"I can do this!"

[fraugwinska]

Our lovely couple moves in together... Smut ahead - Minors DNI - Adult themes!

"Last chance to change your mind, cher."

You cocked your brow with that sweet smile you always had when looking at him, a small box in your hand. Alastor stood at the front doors of his townhouse, his arms crossed and leaning against the door frame, returning your grin with an even wider one.

"You know me long enough to know I am not one to take back my word, love. My house is yours from this day on forward."

With the flick of his wrist, he summoned various of his voodoo minions, who all immediately sprung into action, one of them taking the box out of your hand while the others crept to the waiting car with the few belongings in boxes you had accumulated over the past years. Most of them were books you could hardly part with, an antique room screen you got as a gift from Zestial. Your office, mostly, folders and folders of your articles, the polished black typewriter you loved. A vintage, cherry-wood cathedral radio - Alastor's gift to celebrate your three year anniversary. It's been about nine, now. Nine incredible, enchanting, magical, horrific, terrible and utterly love-filled, chaotic and passionate and simply hellbent and haphazardous years. Nine years, in which Hell came truly alive for you. Nine years, and finally one step further. Moving in together.

He watched as the final helper sprung inside to sit at the steering wheel of the car to drive it back to the rental, his arms still crossed. You tried hard to find the catch, but it seemed that Alastor simply wanted this, just as much as you did. No trickery, no traps, nothing. Just him, and you, together in his treasured house. Well. Mostly.

Though you've not met her yet, you knew about Niffty - a young, new sinner Alastor took under his wings. Whether he made a deal with her, or simply hired her, you didn't know, and you didn't really care, but she would also be at his house, he had told you, as a live-in maid/housekeeper. And because he was a gentleman of his times, he offered to change this condition and make her move out, if it made you uncomfortable - you immediately refused. You wouldn't deny a young demon like her shelter out of petty and misplaced insecurities, and the thought that someone other than yourself would actually be doing the brunt of the housework around your new home was immensely enticing.

With a smirk Alastor lifted himself up and stepped away from the door frame, stretching an arm out as an invitation, still smiling.

Your grin widened at him and you hummed, a rather contented purr escaping your throat and rumbling deep within as you took his hand. He pulled you into him, his head turning to press a kiss into your hair, the fresh breeze blowing a smell of flowers and smoke through the garden - you melted against his touch.

"Well then, welcome to your new home, darling...", Alastor mumbled against the crown of your head.

The town house was one of the few places you had never been to before. Over the years, Alastor let you into his world more and more. His radio tower became your most frequented place to be together, and even that took a full year of talks, dinners, outings and strolls together before that. And the progress into a deeper bond that didn't just rely on the foundation of mutual interest and curiosity was a slow one with him. But he was never, in your eyes, anything other than a gentleman and an all around impeccably wonderful sinner - even at his worst, and certainly at his best. And his very best was, by any and every definition, impressive.

He showed you his turf, introduced you to people who worked for him, acquaintances and friends alike. That's how you've met Mimzy for example, although she certainly wasn't one of your favorite people... but that did go both ways. Alastor adored her, and you respected that. You understood that, considering who he is - the petty grudges Mimzy bore against you because of misplaced jealousy were part and parcel of your life on his side. You remembered the joy when he mentioned that Rosie was also a friend and part of his close inner circle, and she soon became someone whose presence you always enjoyed. Fully supportive and invested in you two as she was, Rosie always helped whenever you could think of problems, whether big or small, in your shared journey through Hell. She and Alastor both supported and loved you in all of your ways and plans, the latter having been what helped you rise to editor in chief at the Pentagram Daily and right hand to Zestial, who had gradually turned from boss to close friend to you.

Hell truly came alive for you.

Your focus moved to the townhouse itself. It was modest and tastefully furnished, with dark wood furniture and decor, a wooden plated kitchen filled with plants and the strange hellish shrubbery you grew accustomed to and green tiling on the bathroom floors and walls. The fireplace in the foyer was glowing with a healthy ember and flames, the heat engulfing you, as well as a vague hint of Alastor's signature smell that seemed to be oozing from everywhere.

"Why don't you come and have a seat, love. Let me take your things upstairs and then we'll have some coffee ready in a minute, hm?"

Alastor's hands left yours, and you didn't turn around as his presence receded. Your thoughts were so caught up in the beauty of the house, your pink claws traced and ran over the lines of the wood paneled wall. Alastor had never stayed at your apartment, an agreement and precaution he decided on even when you officially started dating, citing his moral code and the rules of courting he intended to follow. Where he filled the days, the nights were always spent alone, in your own home. The time spent together was full with discussions, talks and occasional killings, and yes, you'd also share more intimate moments - kisses, touches, even some serious fooling around. But he had always stopped, right before crossing the one final line. Your body had been a sanctuary, a sacred place which was not to be violated or disturbed, not even by him. And while you found it almost endearing, after a few years it made you crave finally taking the last step.

It's a funny thing, wanting and craving something with your full body and soul while at the same time, the actual act that would grant this wasn't something you ever thought you needed, in contrary. It had been a weapon, a tool for you to do what you did when you were alive and what earned you damnation in hell, as unfair as it was. Sex was one of the simplest concepts of mankind to corrupt, of course. And maybe this was the reason for Alastor never allowing both of you to crossing that line, too. Perhaps he would have, if it wasn't for him knowing where you came from - because he knew you used sex as a method of getting men to lower their guard, a means to an end.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a faint giggle, and you looked down. A small, wide-eyed cyclops girl stood before you, barely reaching your knees. She wore a dark red blouse with a red skirt, and a white apron covered the front. The demoness beamed up at you, grinning, her single eye framed by a magenta bob cut fixed to your face and hands clasped together.

"Alastor told me a lot about you, miss! I'm Niffty! Can you believe you actually exist? When Alastor first told me about you, I- well- ohh, this is SO EXCITING!! We'll be the best of friends, and we'll talk and you'll tell me ALL your stories and I will learn everything about them, so I won't forget anything and-"

She stopped herself as the sound of a throat being cleared was heard through the hall, and Alastors form, already half obscured in the shadows of the hall, stiffened.

"Niffty, you promised me to not be weird, my dear.", he tutted, glowering at her, one of his eyes twitching and his close-lipped smile tensed. You almost burst out laughing. It was always an endearing and utterly charming sight, when he got flustered or nervous. His discomfort always manifested itself in the twitch of his eyes or nose, or an unexpected flick of the wrist at something mundane and simple like this - and as silly as it may seem to others, Niffty's uncontainable energy, the utter wholesome enthusiasm and weirdness of hers that could get even the radio demon uncomfortable made you soft for the girl.

Your tail swished playfully as you grinned up towards Alastor and turned back to the exciteable demon before you.

"Ah, Alastor did tell me what a lovely companion you were, chèrie.", you told Niffty, a light purr entering your voice, which made her ears prick and her eye to light up, the singular black and yellow iris blown wide. You held out your hand to the maid and gave her a soft smile, tilting your head. "I'm sure we'll get along well together."

Nifftys small, clawed hand shot into yours as if it was on fire and you squeezed it with a slight force that made her squeal with glee. She shook your hand so rapidly you could barely register it, and her head was bopping up and down eagerly.

"Yes! Absolutely!!! I'll do anything, anything, anything!! We will get along perfectly! I'll make coffee, you drink coffee, right? And maybe some cookies!" She said in a hurry, her words and excitement blurring together, not even waiting for an answer but scurrying away to the kitchen. She was as hyper as a squirrel in a tree and equally adorable, and your grin widened with amusement at her enthusiasm.

"So, that's Niffty.", you mused, chuckling at his rather stiff and awkward posture.

"Oh, a dear child, without a doubt - a lovely, twisted little thing. It was fortunate that she met me.", he agreed. Alastor's ears flicked slightly as you came closer, his tone lowering once again. "Still, you must not underestimate her. If you'd see the things she does to the vermin around the house..." He laughed.

"Well, never mind that. You still have the second floor to inspect, darling. Shall we?"

He extended an arm, grinning, and with a raised brow and a hummed 'oooh, scandalous,' you hooked your elbow around his and let him drag you up the stairs with a short lived chuckle.

It didn't even take five seconds for your composure to crack once you saw the bedroom. Not because there was any hint of dubiousness to it, quite the contrary. Everything was nice and clean and sweet smelling, the windows were opened, allowing the fresh air from outside to gently blow into the room. The bed, an old, beautiful vintage piece of dark brown walnut furniture, had black satin sheets that seemed cool and smooth even to your eyes and there was a surprising number of soft pillows and blankets.

"This, I didn't think I'd need to mention... will be the only part of the house to be completely off-limits to young miss Niffty. Or anyone except for us, for that matter." He smiled at you with a most wicked grin as his shadow crept to the door, closing it shut.

Your body froze and your mind went blank and for a moment, you weren't able to think at all, just feel the burning of your body and the tingling of your skin. Oh, dear Satan. Slowly, his words really sank in, and the reality of their meaning dawned on you and tightened your grin.

He wanted the same as you. And it seemed he was finally ready to do something about it.

It was silly of you. So many people in hell fucked every day, in so many ways - whether because it was the nature of sin itself to be more perverse and vile than it could be in the living realm, or because there were so few taboos that remained in hell to keep up... and you were aware of your hypocrisy. A serial killer would definitely not be able to point fingers, let alone judge, others, you knew. But with him, it was different. At least to you it was. He wasn't some pervert. He had principles. Standards. Values.

Valuing you was one of those, and respecting and caring for you, as much as he respected himself. To him, sexuality, lust, any expression of this... had always had to be a conscious decision to be made with you, not some primal reflex forced upon you, if the time ever came.

And the knowledge that finally, that last boundary of your relationship, which, for the past nine years, had become so noticable and odd for others in its non-intimacy, was about to be breached, and his intention to cross it with you as explicit as it possibly could be, sparked a heat inside of you unlike any other kind of flame that has ever burnt your skin. Well, loin des yeux, près du cœur.

"Really, my dear? No remarks at all, not even a clever retort? Did I finally get the cat's tongue?", Alastor teased and you shivered at the way his eyes glazed over like a starved predator, his hungry gaze washing over your flushed, but now obviously and severely flustered face. He always said your flushing, especially when flustered, looked good on you. His large claws brushed down your shoulders and arms, leaving a hot trail in their wake and sending an all-out shiver of delight and anticipation down your spine.

"What a rare sight, you're absolutely adorable when shy."

"You are impossible...", you replied, slowly feeling the soft mattress hit the back of your thighs and the added support behind your back made you keenly aware of just how strong he was. One of the strongest, if not the strongest of all the overlords. And you loved his strength - when he ripped into the bodies of foolish sinners as when he now used it to lift you with ease, sit you down onto his bed, his palms resting on the pillows right besides your head.

"Do you really want to do this, cher?", your words were a breathy, yet rumbling whisper. Your black pupils blew wide, taking over the majority of the shades of magenta and pink and fuchsia.

Alastors grin grew wider at the sight of it, tilting his head as his knees pushed his body even higher, the bed creaking. The sound was familiar, comforting even. He settled above you, one hand slipping under your nape, softly lifting your face up to meet his and the cold claws on the tips of his fingers brushed against your heated skin, just like your icy claws ran down the column of his exposed throat, caressing the length of his neck down to the knot of his bow tie.

"Yes..." He hummed the word out low and long, an eager purr-growl that rumbled his chest and throat and made him grind his hips against yours. Your head fell back in bliss as his knee slotted in-between your legs and pressed, just right, against your crotch, with perfect pressure against the sensitive flesh. A whimper of his name tumbled past your lips, followed by a soft moan. You moved your leg upwards and ran it against his, just so, and his breath, too, came out a stuttering, gasping sigh. "Yes. My mind has been set on this matter for a long while."

His ears flicked again and you watched in rapt fascination as his antlers grew and eyes went darker. And without another word, your lips clashed together in a messy, passionate kiss that left your head reeling and your stomach dropping. Your hands pulled at the silken material of his tie, desperately fumbling with it in order to make it loose enough to allow him to breath as his own claws pressed into your thigh, possessive and demanding, leaving deep cuts in your long, flowy skirt.

A groan escaped your mouth, almost unrecognizable to you. So different from your usual smooth demeanor, so raw, wanton. A moan, loud and hoarse, that shook you with the power and force you put into it and reverberated through both of your bodies, tangled around each other, pressed together. Your vision swam before your eyes, his delicious scent filling your lungs. You drowned in his everything - his smell, the feeling of his weight pinning you down to the bed, his lips, moving against yours in a violent dance and his tongue, swirling around yours. He kissed the same way he hunted, taking no prisoners and leaving no escape - you could still taste traces of the coffee he drank before you arrived, it had been laced with bourbon, a drink you now craved in your blood, and needed inside of you.

In a faraway, dazed state of mind, a realization crossed your cloudy, hazy thoughts. There was no going back now, not that you wanted to, anyway. But now, everything between you and Alastor was going to be different. Unshackled. You were ready to cross that line, more than so, but now, after waiting and building that expectation for so long, there was an even bigger anticipation, so strong, even your arms were shaking, the black fabric of his harness brushing against the skin of your arms as he shrugged his overcoat off.

Every touch of him felt new, electrified by the knowledge and expectation of waht to come. His palm brushed over the thin fabric covering the skin of your stomach. His lips pulled from your swollen ones, tracing a path downwards. Down, towards your neck. Your ear. Your collarbone. Teeth grazed your soft, delicate flesh and his lips captured the skin his hands revealed as he undressed you.

You cried out, eyes tightly shut as he bit and kissed his way down the valley between the soft, malleable flesh of your breast, the heated muscle of your belly, his palms softly digging in the expanse of skin of your legs. His long, glowing, red claws traced the sensitive skin inside of your thighs.

You gasped, almost breathless at this point. So utterly overwhelmed by the sensations of it all, senses oddly heightened by the way he teasingly bit down onto the inside of your thigh - just where the cloth of the undergarments, his last barrier to reach your actual core, ended. The feeling of your own tail stroking over his back, in tandem with his claw cutting the cloth made your vision go white for a moment, the feather light touch making you tremble and breathe his name out like an unholy prayer, repeated over and over.

"So divine and yet so corrupted...", he mumbled against your heated skin, before he shoved one of the plush pillows under your arched back.

"So holy and yet so blasphemous..." you felt his breath cool on the wetness of your exposed folds, so, so close to what you needed, and felt his tongue, carefully, sliding along the folds of your quivering core, just an almost and not yet a finally in sweetest torture, his body a veil between you and the world.

"Only yours to offer...", his eyes shot to you, intense and hungry under his twisted antlers, awaiting your decision, and you nodded with baited breath at which he refocused on the slick heat before him, "...and only mine to take."

His tongue parted the lips, delving inside and licking a broad stroke between them, before the tip danced around your aching clit and just for a moment, you forgot how to even breath anymore, your mind blanking out for an endless, timeless, perfect second.

All you felt was bliss, the sheer pleasure washing over and drowning you in it, the all encompassing, fulfilling sensation of something you had not even dared to dream of was now your present reality and there was nothing else, nothing beside his tongue. A gasping whine filled the silence, breaking through the crescendo of white noise, a cry, a plea for more as his long, pointy, impossibly dexterous tongue lapped against and slipped inside of you, thrusting in and out with torturous drag.

Your hands curled tightly into the fabric beneath you, preventing yourself from bending like a hunting bow as he added not one, but two of his fingers. His rhythm was unforgiving and almost too intense, so perfect, with just enough change for the friction not to burn into an unsatisfactory numbness.

"Mmmh... I could live on the taste of you, love.", Alastor breathed the words against the inside of your thigh, before biting down into the skin with a possessive growl. His claws dug into the plush flesh of your hips, holding them up as blood dripped in heavy drops from the bite. He sucked and licked on the wound and the sight of him, macabre and beautifully latched onto you, was almost enough to make you come, fingers still working against your heat.

You were almost there, you could feel it in the way the muscles in your stomach clenched, the tightening coil deep within, the way your breath hitched and became quicker and shallower, the way you started to tremble, the feeling of pure pleasure and joy.

"Stop, amour. Please stop...", you panted, not wanting to come alone, not selfish enough to be serviced like this, the pleasure too good to end so soon without him in it. You gasped for air, forming the words in your head.

His head whipped upwards, his glowing red eyes narrowed in concern, but you just smiled at him in reassurance, face hot and body sticky to the touch. "Réclamez-moi entièrement pour que nous puissions atteindre la fin ensemble...", you pleaded.

Alastor understood your words perfectly and his eyes widened. He took a shaky breath, before he chuckled and rose up, ripping his dress shirt along with the black harness away and revealing the expanse of his torso, the muscles, the soft fur, the countless scars. His belt came loose, his slacks fell to the ground, kicked away. He was magnificent when dressed - But he was unearthly beautiful when naked, every inch of him on display and for you to devour.

The tip of his member brushed against the slick opening of your core, making you whine.

"Always the one to choose a draw, darling."

Your hands reached for him, pulling him on top of you, the heat of his naked skin pressing onto you. He felt so wonderful, his hair falling forward, covering the side of his face, his breath tickling your nose. He leaned down, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, and your eyes fluttered close.

"You know I always prefer to lose if it's a win for both of us in the end, mon cerf..."

Alastor's lips captured yours again and his tongue entered, claiming and dominating the kiss in the same moment he pushed his hips into you, sheathing himself fully. He felt so, so much bigger than he looked, the stretch a delectable pain, an utterly delightful kind of burn. Your walls stretched around him, trying to adjust and get used to the feeling. It was almost overwhelming, how perfect he fit into you, how his thick, throbbing length brushed against that sweet spot inside of you, his girth stretching and filling you to the brim.

You both groaned, his head dropping forward as his hips rolled and he started to move. Slow, shallow thrusts, testing the waters. He pulled out, almost all the way, before rolling back in and setting a slow, savoring pace, dragging his hips just so to make his cock brush against your most sensitive spots.

Your hands grabbed his shoulders, your claws digging into them until you drew blood. With a growl, Alastor picked you up, letting himself fall back into a sitting position and pulled you upright on his lap. Equals, both able to be in control, both dependent on the other. Connected, not just by your cores, but also by your eyes you sat still for a moment. He was inside of you, and you had never felt this complete. He was a part of you, and the feeling was intoxicating, addictive, all consuming.

And then, he started to move you. Alastor let his head fall into the crook of your neck, whispering your name against your throat and you cried his out aloud, his claws digging into your hips and moving them, lifting them and pushing them down in a growing rhythm, matching his own eager movements, the drag of his cock inside of you utterly divine. You rolled your hips, chasing the feeling of him, while your own claws painted red lines on his back. You tasted blood, your canines biting your lip so hard it opened the delicate skin, and on a whim you nudged his head up to share it with him. He moaned, tasting the metallic fluid on your tongue, and it was enough to drive you both over the edge.

He spent himself inside of you with a hoarse growl, the hot, sticky fluid painting your insides as he wrapped his arms around you to press you even deeper into him, the sensation alone enough to make your head spin and your eyes water with hot tears. Your own high followed, you were desperate to sink your teeth in something, so you latched onto his neck, biting down as your walls tightened around his still twitching cock, milking it dry and coating him with the proof of your mutual ecstasy.

For a while, all either of you did was pant, breathing deeply, trying to collect yourselves and regain any kind of composure. Your eyes were still closed, but you could feel the slight movement of his chest, the beat of his heart under your palms that rested on his chest, your teeth still deep in his skin. You couldn't bear to let go, fearing the loss of his skin on your lips, but his hands came up to your face and gently pulled you away.

A small chuckle left his lips as he looked at you. His face was smeared red with the residue of your blood, and you might as well must've looked the same, coated in his.

"Now, isn't this the best way to christen a new bed? The unholy trinity: Blood, sweat and tears."

You laughed, the sound of it a little weak and a bit hoarse.

"You didn't happen to buy a new couch, too?", you asked, voice playful and low.

"Oh, I certainly do plan on it now, darling. I'm thinking of refurnishing the whole damn house." He grinned at you, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips, and it was impossible not to mirror his impish grin.

A rattle on the doorknob made both of you snap your heads to the entrance of your bedroom. In an instant, you made yourself - and to your delight, Alastor, still sheathed in you, too - invisible, just in time before Niffty broke through the door, in a loud bickering fight with Alastor's shadow.

"....and the coffee is getting cold if they.... oh, they're not here. Why didn't you tell me they're not here? Oh, maybe they are searching for me, maybe I should go look for them? Maybe they're downstairs, or in the garden? Oh no, wait, maybe they're on the roof? No, no, no, maybe..."

She rambled as she ran back down, and with a giggle you made both of you visible again.

" 'Completely off-limits to young miss Niffty' you say?", you grinned at him, a sadistic smile on your lips as you leaned in to kiss the small wounds on his neck.

"I also said to not underestimate her...", he sighed, commanding his shadow with his hand to close the door once more. And this time, with a poignant look and glowing red eyes, to lock it up.

Translations: loin des yeux, près du cœur - absence makes the heart grow fonder Réclamez-moi entièrement pour que nous puissions atteindre la fin ensemble... - Claim me fully so we can reach the end together…

[mountaingutta]

A few of my headcanons about my favorite weirdo in Transformers — Agent Fowler

Warning: English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes in the text

He was born and raised in New Orleans in the late 1960s (so during the events of the show, he’s around 40–45 years old)

His parents died when he was a child (during Hurricane Betsy), so he was raised by his maternal grandmother

She was an old eccentric who practiced voodoo and claimed that one of their ancestors had been a close ally of Marie Laveau

She carried a creepy deck of tarot cards and was blind in one eye

She had a pet python (named Cerise) and a collection of carved skulls — no one dared ask where she got them

She was an incredible cook, especially known for her spicy alligator stew, made with gators she caught herself in the river behind the house

When Fowler tells these stories, no one believes him — except Miko and Optimus

But Fowler loved his grandmother deeply, and she loved him just as much. At school, no one bullied him — everyone was too afraid of the old woman. That’s more or less how I imagine her:

Since he was born and lived through the second half of the 20th century in America, he definitely went through a lot of racist crap directed at him and other Black residents of New Orleans. He doesn’t really like to talk about it

Besides the bad things, there were also good ones — the city itself, its architecture, events from his life, and certain moments that became part of history — like the election of Ernest Morial as mayor of New Orleans, which was a landmark event in many ways

After finishing school, he joined the army, and after some time, he became part of the Army Rangers as a pilot

Thanks to that, he traveled to many parts of the world and took part in numerous military operations, exposed to many different cultures, and in the end, he lost faith in any deity — he’s an atheist

In the army, he earned the nickname 'Ducky' because he made several emergency water landings

Every aircraft he piloted was named "Lucky 13". Because - fuck superstition!

I’m sure he knows a lot of compromising dirt — otherwise they wouldn’t have put him in charge of dealing with damn aliens or singlehandedly hauling nuclear stuff across the country

He had a wife. Maybe his grandmother introduced them when he came home on leave. She was sharp-tongued but a good person, and he was a bit odd, still carrying fresh wounds — back then, he looked like a poster soldier

Neither of them planned to have kids, but Fowler wouldn't have minded having one or two

They spent several years together, but separated after an especially dangerous operation — when Fowler was brought home barely alive. She realized she needed a living man, not a cold stone with a name and two dates on it

During one of the operations, he was injured and couldn’t return to active duty — but he was still a valuable asset, now spending more of his time behind a desk, working with paperwork

For a while after that, he drank heavily, sank into depression, and completely lost himself. But then he pulled himself together

And then the kids showed up, and Space Stalin returned with an alien drug, and then Cybertronian Satan nearly destroyed the planet… and a lot more happened after that

Now he’s in the middle of nowhere, accompanied by a wounded cosmic Buddha and Alexander the Great in one body, telling stories about the voodoo once practiced by his late grandmother and gazing at the starry skies of Northern Europe. At least Optimus’s frame was warm, and Optimus himself was a good listener — even if not much of a conversationalist. Life didn’t seem all that bad

[camarocarfight]

I Have A Massive Kink For Alastor's Shadow Ch. 1 (A *clean* Reader Insert)

I'm writing this on a whim instead of doing homework. It wasn't even supposed to be multiple chapters. It will be clean, and strictly platonic 'cause I just love protective Alastor sending his shadow to look after who he cares about.

Also... I did no editing

Alastor was away for the evening, having left with Charlie some time ago to speak with Rosie. Leaving you and the rest of your ragtag band of misfits to prepare the hotel for the oncoming battle. There was little for you to do, as Angel, Pentious, and Husk were doing the majority of the work, fortifying the ever vulnerable walls that seemed to be destroyed by anyone and everything.

You opted for staying out of the way and tucked yourself away in Alastor's room, taking comfort in the soothing environment of the bayou. You and Alastor were raised in the same, sleepy little town where the bayou was your back yard. You had taught Alastor about Voodoo, and showed him everything you knew. Who knew childhood friends would end up in hell together? Let alone meet each other once again after Alastor's seven year absence at the Hazbin Hotel.

Fate seemed to keep the two of you near, and when Alastor wasn't around, you really felt his absence. Your relationship was simply platonic - the two of you seeming to feed off of each other's energy and power. When you were with Alastor, you felt your strongest, and he the same with you.

The seven years that Alastor had been gone were agony, and took it's toll on you. You were simply not interested in a world without Alastor in it, and became careless in your actions during his absence. The day Alastor had returned, he found you at the hotel broken and weak. Charlie and Vaggie had been kind enough to take you in and keep you sheltered from the Overlords you hexed with Voodoo. You had failed to mention to them your close acquaintance with the Radio Demon, taking everyone at the hotel by surprise when you jumped into his arms when Charlie opened the door.

Since his return, you felt stronger than ever, but he still wasn't around as frequently as you liked. Alastor was a busy man, and had a lot of catching up to do after his absence. You had your evenings with him, when he would allow you the closeness you both craved out of eyeshot of everyone in the hotel. During the day, however, the two of you went separate ways.

As you situated yourself in the middle of Alastor's bed, you enveloped yourself in the down comforter and shut your eyes. Alastor's warm, and earthy scent filled your senses, bringing you comfort, but at the same time making your chest ache at his absence. That's when you felt in.

You opened your eyes to see Alastor's shadow settling across the wide expanse of the bed. The inky creature grinned at you, and gave a chirp as it glided closer to you.

"Hello to you too," you smiled. "Tell him I'm fine, just missing him."

[hernakedmuse]

Okay but Eddie...

Picked up another job this summer, with the summer carnival coming up, a surprise trip to Disney World, our little town freak has plans for his coffin cutie this summer.

He was to be the pool boy for Loch Nora residents, namely The Cunninghams, and our little batty barbie was pissed about it.

She has every right to be, with Chrissy "Captain of the Cheer Squad" Cunningham, parading around in her high cut bikinis with her perfectly toned body spilling iced tea on her cleavage as Eddie scrubs her pool and mows her manicured lawn.

Was she being a little bratty?

Doesn't she realize Eddie has no interest in Chrissy's cookie cutter body when he has his luscious little witch?

Doesn't she understand he is trying to earn more money for her?

She's clouded by jealousy and rage worthy of a Greek goddess right now.

She made a Chrissy voodoo doll but when that didn't help soothe her anger, she decided to play dirty, she decided to spend more time with Steve "The Hair" Harrington, spending this summer in her black, thong bikini's, the most she wears are obscenely little shorts, Indiana summers are humid and sticky after all.

She and Steve have cold sandwich and firecracker pop picnics in the Hawkins' Cemetary, she makes her homemade orange lemonade that tastes like candy and happens to be Eddie's favorite.

She swims in Lover's Lake in that thong bikini with Steve, having her pretend to drown her.

Eddie can't take it any longer when he hears from Henderson that Steve is having his little succubus over at his mansion for nightly dips in his pool (that Eddie cleaned!) and a private horror summer movie themed marathon.

What if his little moth gets too much of a taste of the good life and doesn't want to return to his trailer and smelly van? What if she likes the security of Harrington's life, what if he can be a better protector?

He would do ANYTHING to prevent that, his little bat made him realize something about himself, Eddie isn't as sweet as he thought, he's actually rather selfish and controlling and while he loves making his Morticia the happiest girl in the morgue, he would rather her stay with him and be unhappy then let her have a chance of happiness with anyone else.

He would maim and possibly kill the guy he has considered his new friend, just to keep her.

He was jumped the Harrington's fence, his parents are vacationing in St. Barts right now while his uncle is on a fishing trip, the difference of their families is astonishing. he opens the back slide door of the mansion and bursts in guns blazing, not literally, but his fists were balled and clad in rings that'd be painful to the face.

He was screaming at the both of them, that they were sorely mistaken if they thought he'd allow them to get away with this that he will rip off Steve's dick and put it down the garbage disposal if he touches his girl, and then he wasn't screaming or making threats anymore, his voice was becoming weak, the thought of her no longer being in his life was too much to bear. He felt sick, his nausea swirling in his guts, he felt clammy and tears were pouring down his sweet face as he fell to his knees and clung to his girl's legs begging her to not leave him, he'll go and rob a bank and case houses to make sure she doesn't go without.

And our little horror bimbo felt so rotten, it went too far. She took it too far, she got lost in a jealous rage and then she did have a lot of fun hanging out with Steve, but just hanging, she doesn't find Steve physically attractive at all, his voice doesn't make her melt, and their hugs were so friendly and not making her heat up like her Eddie Teddie.

And every time she hung out with Steve she felt hollow, missing her Eddie, he is her limb after all, he's her Dr. Frankenstein.

Steve could never be Eddie not even close, he doesn't have that Hershey chocolate kiss gaze, those surprisingly strong arms, that warm embrace when they cuddle, the obsessive looks and touches, his constant worshipping, the smell of his Irish green soap and Brut aftershave and red Marlboro cigarette perfume with the undertone of weed. He smells like smoke and herbs and pine and like the lord of the wood, like her own Cernunnos, and oh how she worships HIM.

She missed playing Dungeons and Dragons with him, missed it ending dirty with him seducing her Witch character, missed him getting excited and nerdy over things, they didnt even go to a concert this summer yet!

She missed her Gomez, her Cernunnos, her daddy.

And she was teary eyed as she apologized profusely and they started eating each others tears and licking each others wounds until they were in a passionate embrace in the middle of Steve's living room and he had to leave his own house to let them make up.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1-Black Penny

Summary: You grew up in the hustle and bustle of a city most of your life, so you packed your few belongings and headed straight to New Orleans. You hoped to live a simpler, quieter life on the Historic French Quarter. By day during the week, you helped manage Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo Shop and by nightfall you tended bar at Black Penny on the weekends.

You were aware mutants existed, and believed them to be just as ordinary as you but only with extraordinary abilities. After living a few years in NOLA, you had a knack of picking them out in a crowd and treated them no differently than you’d treat anyone else. You had many run in’s with mutants on Bourbon Street, but none as impactful as the day you ran into Remy LeBeau.

A/N: Character Intro, She/Her Pronouns, GambitX!FemaleReader, GambitX!NonMutant, RemyLeBeauX!FemaleReader, Mutants, Post Deadpool and Wolverine, Post Void, New Orleans, Alcohol, Pining, Creole/French to English Translation

(c) - Creole

(f)- French

*I just want to disclose I am not a comic expert. Gambit/Remy LeBeau is very new to me and I’m doing my best to stay genuine to what I’ve researched online or from what I’ve seen in the D&W movie. I’m aware there was a HUGE controversy over his heavy accent/dialect and over his eye color in the movie, so I tried to incorporate both versions of each in my stories to satisfy everyone’s preferred Gambit/Remy style. (Personally, I loved Channing Tatum’s accent in the movie ☺️) I’m also cognizant that Gambit and Rogue are an item in the comics, but for sanity sake, Rogue will be a pastime only mentioned in passing if absolutely necessary so I don’t have to study in depth another character I’m unfamiliar with. (I need some brain space for real life stuff, too 😅) Anyway, I’m doing my maximum effort over here writing for Gambit/Remy, so when I do post my developing Gambit story, please, if you have comments or criticisms that don’t benefit anyone else’s appreciation of these fanfics, keep them to yourself and let the rest of us enjoy it. Thanks so much*

♠️♥️♣️♦️

It was a particularly busy night at Black Penny. As live bounce music and jazz blared from the stage, patrons dance and socialize carelessly with each other while you hotfoot from one end of the bar to the other serving up shots and beers.

You approach a man waiting patiently, his face downward hovering over a stack of playing cards.

“What can I getchya?” You ask him.

He began twirling an ace of spades between his fingers.

“(c) Kisa mwen ka jwenn pou ou?” You repeat.

The man lifted his gaze to meet yours with a mischievous grin stretching across his face. An eerie magenta glow softly radiated from his irises causing your jaw to drop. Your stunned reaction spurred him, causing his smile to widen and his eyes to glow brighter as the whites of his eyes began to blacken.

“….woah.” You say under your breath.

The man chuckled, “(c) Ou dwe padone Gambit, cheri (You must pardon Gambit). When his eyes see somethin’ so (f)dulcet (beautiful), it be hard to hide it.”

You shook your head to refocus, “No need to apologize. This is a safe space for everyone. Just caught me off guard is all.”

You flash him a smile and a wink as he returned one to you, the whites of his eyes returning to ‘human’ version of normal and his irises became a shade of icy green.

“Nobody be lookin’ at me like dat wit’out runnin’ off. You weren’t scared?”

“Of course not. Takes a lot more than a pair of flashy eyes on a handsome face to scare me away.” You state.

He laughed as he adjusted in his seat.

“Dats good, dats good.” He said as he leaned forward on the surface of the bar.

“What are you drinking, Gambit?” You ask again.

“Sazerac. (c) Mèsi, cheri. (Thank you, darling).”

You bring the gentleman a rocks glass fixed neat with the amber-red reserve bourbon. He gingerly raised the glass to his nose, inhaling the oak wood barrel scent with hints of cherry, caramel, apples, and tobacco.

He hummed with satisfaction, “(c) Manyifik (Magnificent).”

You nod, then turn to walk away.

“Remy.” You hear him call to you.

“Pardon?” You say as you turn back to him.

“The name’s Remy LaBeau.” He reiterated cooly after taking a sip from his glass.

He averted his eyes to you, awaiting your name. You grin back.

“Y/F/N.”

“(c) Kontan rankontre ou, Y/F/N (Pleased to meet you).”

You feel your face go red as you laugh nervously.

“Same.” You managed to say before scurrying to the other end of the bar to wait on other customers.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

Remy sat quietly in his spot at the bar the entire evening, only ever looking up from his deck of Mavericks to catch a glance of you as you pass him. The crowd started to thin out as last call was announced.

“One for the road, Remy?”

He beamed at you, “Oui, cheri. If you join me for one.”

You smile coyly, “I gotta close up, chief. How about this; I’ll bring you another Sazerac on the house, and I’ll take a rain check?”

You see the magenta glimmer in his eyes again.

“I like the soun’ of dat, cheri.”

You smile and nod then turn to the counter behind you to prepare his drink. You set it in front of him as he placed a $100 in front of you.

“You only had two. That’s too much.”

“(c) Pran li (Take it). For your generosity an’ da company.” Remy insisted.

You beam at him, “(c) Ou twò janti (You’re too kind).”

He stood up from his stool, and fixed his collar on his leather trench.

“Until next time, mon cher.” He said smiling while standing tall opposite you.

“Orevwa, Remy. I’ll see you around.” You reply sweetly as you feel your cheeks heat up again.

“(c) Mwen pwomèt ou pral (I promise you will).” He purred in his heavy honeyed Cajun accent.

He bowed, then turned on his heel to exit the bar. You released a deep exhale as if you hadn’t taken a breath since having met him that night.

♠️♥️♣️♦️

*I know this was a short one and I plan on a chapter 2. I’m just dipping my toe in the water here to see what feedback I get* 🥰

[saw3amanda]

college, no powers, roommates superbat!

Bruce has been in love with Clark for years, which Clark knows. But he definitely doesnt return the feelings. Right?

♡♡♡♡

The reflections of the stars and the street lights were indistinguishable in the oil puddle. Clark still focused on the glimmering lights, head bent as he stared at the asphalt. The air had a pleasant coolness in the summer evening and he relished the feeling through his long-sleeved uniform. A bag crinkled next to him.

“These are terrible, Clark.” Bruce said after a few loud crunches. “What the hell is this flavor?”

Clark heard the bag crinkle again as Bruce picked it up, clearly inspecting its garish logo. “What is ‘Voodoo’ even supposed to taste like?”

Clark huffed out a small laugh and turned to face Bruce. The two were sitting on the back of Clark’s half-broken Nissan during his lunch break. Clark had recently taken to working the overnight shift at his gas station job, a grueling 10pm-6am shift, and Bruce usually made the midnight trek from their college apartment to share Clark’s break with him.

It was fine. It was fine.

“Clearly your palate isn’t advanced enough for the sophisticated…” Clark grabbed the bag from Bruce and held it up as if he was selling it on midday television to septuagenarians. “ Zapp’s New Orleans Kettle Style Voodoo chips.”

“Clearly not.” Bruce chuckled.

They fell silent and Clark turned back to his puddle of stars. He could feel the corners of his lips fall and his brow furrow once more.

He needed to know. That wasn’t quite true; he needed it confirmed. He had known for far longer than he thought even Bruce knew. They had met two years before and had been best friends for most of it; at this point, Clark thought about Bruce more than he thought about himself. So yes, Clark definitely knew.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep eating these, Clark, they’re quite—”

“You’re in love with me.”

The world didn’t stop. The puddle wavered and broke as a pickup truck drove through it and generic pop kept playing on the gas station speakers. A breeze ruffled Clark’s hair and the moon disappeared behind a cloud. Bruce didn’t even stop eating, only paused to say a conversational, “Yes.”

“Oh.”

Clark imagined what he was feeling was quite similar to a skydiver who just jumped, a weightless limbo before the fall. Except there didn’t seem to be a fall. There was no violent tangle of limbs and bones as he hit the ground, nor was there the controlled descent of a pulled parachute.

Bruce must’ve seen the confusion written across Clark’s face because he sighed slightly and set down his bag of chips. Clark’s stomach lurched; it seemed the fall had only been delayed.

“Don’t tell me you’ve just realized this.” He said, turning to face Clark. Bruce had a carefully controlled expression, one Clark had rarely seen pointed at him. “I never meant to make it your problem. It’s mine and mine alone.”

Problem .

Clark quickly pushed away any thoughts pertaining to the word and shook his head.

“No, no, no,” He said hurriedly. “I’m not mad or anything, and it’s not like you’ve made it obvious.”

Bruce snorted, and Clark cracked a small smile.

“Ok, maybe it’s been a little obvious, but it was never something you’ve pushed on me. I mean, you haven’t tried to hit on me or anything.”

Words seemed to stick in Clark’s throat. If he coughed, what would come up? Something bloody and raw, he feared, something he couldn’t take back. Or maybe it was a barrage of self-serving questions, how long? what started it? have i hurt you? how much have I hurt you? why? He kept quiet.

Bruce heaved another sigh and looked up. He seemed to be searching for something. “Why do you bring this up now?”

Clark gripped his index and middle finger with his other hand, squeezing slightly and feeling the bones move against each other.

“In all honesty, I have no idea.”

Bruce stayed quiet, still inspecting the sky as if he could find what he was looking for if he just looked a little longer. Clark snuck a glance at his profile, a warm orange glow from the streetlights falling across his face and his shifting neck as he swallowed. He kept looking until Bruce reluctantly looked away from the glimmering stars and met Clark’s gaze. As they sat there, staring at each other, Clark found his words.

“I think I’ve known since the beginning. I think I knew before you did.” He started cautiously. “There was this look in your eyes whenever we would hang out back in freshman year. The first time we spent time together alone, just the two of us, I had never seen you so…comfortable around someone. I thought it would disappear after a while, that I was just a new, shiny toy you’d get used to, but it never really has. While I was living in the dorms over that summer, that was when I knew. You would come over everyday, spend hundreds of dollars on Ubers just to hang out with me.”

Clark took a deep breath, trying to exhale his nerves.

“And then we were inseparable sophomore year.” He laughed; Bruce broke out in a smile in return. “It was rare, but sometimes you would be drunk and get a little…sappy.”

Clark watched as Bruce’s cheeks pinked.

“Now, that,” Bruce said, raising a finger and pointing it at Clark. “Is slander, Kent. I did no such thing.”

“You called me your diamond one night!” Clark could feel himself about to break into hysterical laughter.

“You must’ve misheard me.” Bruce shook his head, smiling. “I’m sure I was helping you with geology homework.”

Clark lost it. Bruce managed to last a second or two, but he quickly succumbed to laughter.

Clark could feel his trepidation flee with every giggle. This was Bruce. This was his best friend, the man who knew him better than anyone. They had been through hell together; from Clark’s mental health crisis a few months before (sterile white sheets, pills sliding around a small paper cup) to an attempted hostile takeover of Wayne Enterprises (Bruce with near-black bags under his eyes for weeks and shaking hands on his keyboard as he sat through meeting after meeting), this was just another…obstacle to get through.

Was it even an obstacle? Clark thought. What was the harm in a little devotion?

The two managed to tame their laughter and Clark looked down to his overlapping fingers in his lap.

“I am in love with you.” Bruce said softly, firmly, and Clark shivered. The temperature must be dropping. “But it doesn’t have to change anything. I don’t expect you to…return my feelings.”

“No, I know that. And I’ve known for a while, too. I guess I just wanted confirmation.”

“You do love to be right.” Bruce grumbled.

Clark whipped his head to face Bruce and gasped with faux-anger.

“I do not!” He said, placing a hand delicately to his chest. Dropping the act, he chuckled. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it too.”

“Two 'don'ts’ in one sentence? You’re slipping, Kent.”

Clark shoved Bruce gently. “Oh, shut up.”

They slipped into a comfortable silence. After a minute, Clark absentmindedly glanced at his phone and nearly jumped when he saw the time.

“Shit! My break ended seven minutes ago.” He scrambled off of his car and gathered up the trash from his late dinner.

Bruce slipped off the back of Clark’s Nissan neatly and turned to Clark. “Better get back in there.”

Normally, Clark would sprint back inside with barely a ‘goodbye’ to Bruce. He made it a few hurried steps away before remembering their conversation.

“Hey,” he said, turning around. “Thanks for talking with me.”

Bruce nodded. “See you at home.”

“Yeah. See you at home.”

Clark rushed back into the building without looking back. His manager was on him as soon as he walked through the door, ranting about how everyone’s breaks were now eight minutes behind. Nodding blindly, Clark reached the break room and slid his apron back on.

As he walked back to his station, his mind returned to Bruce. Nothing changed, not really. Clark had already known and didn’t need Bruce’s confirmation. So why did he feel so…off? Like there was helium in his chest, or a buzz in his head.

Nothing changed, but Clark found himself a little more cheerful as he rang customers up for the rest of the night

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63783253

[fizzigigsimmer]

Oooh. ugh I have zero time to write this but the idea is SO GOOD. Asfj. Maybe I will put it up for adoption if folks want it. But Harringrove Reaper Au - one of the boys (Billy or Steve) is a reaper, meaning they go unseen by mortals until their time of death. They ferry the souls of the dead. You get the gist. But witchy humans can sometimes see them on special nights like hollows eve when the veil is thin. There is also a spell they can cast to bind a reaper for a short period of time. Legend has it that reapers have been known to make deals with humans either for the return of a soul or the taking of a specific one.

The catch being of course that someone else always has to die just to cast the spell. So super risky. Super taboo. Dark magic to be avoided AT ALL COSTS young witches, but for those desperate to kill someone “untouchable” maybe worth it.

Anyway, imagine Witch!Billy witnessing an accident one night when the veil is thin and encountering a mysterious boy in the woods. Steve curiously knows little about the town and is eager to hear about Billy’s life. Billy thinks Steve is another witch like him, and doesn’t even realize he’s not human until he literally disappears just before sunrise. Billy thinks Steve is just your run of the mill spirit, dead boy with unfinished business, but he can’t stop thinking about him. Somehow or another he meets Steve again and realizes the truth - maybe a desperate Billy learns about the spell to bind the reaper and decides to do away with Neil. Imagine Billy’s surprise when Steve shows up. Steve’s livid because Billy is playing with magic he doesn’t understand, it demands a death and unless Billy pays that price and speaks a name the death will be his.

He makes Billy promise never to do it again and they spend another night together. Steve promises to come to collect Billy personally when it’s his time to die and that first time, everything turns out better than it could have. No one is upset that Neil took a surprise early retirement to the afterlife, and Billy is finally safe at home. But he can’t deal with the fact that he’ll only see Steve again when he’s a dying old man, or if he’s just randomly lucky enough to be nearby on the right kind of night when Steve is collecting another soul.

But Steve is the love of his life and Billy’s not about to give up; so naturally his only course of action is to drive himself to near death. It works. But Steve does the voodoo whoodoo version of bitch slapping him and rejects his application to the afterlife. 😆 The crazy part is Billy’s more upset that he and Steve barely got to speak before Steve curb stomped him back into his mortal body.

Eventually he finally comes up with the perfect plan that allows him and Steve to be together - anytime the veil is week enough. Billy keeps calendars. Tracks the lunar cycles. Has it down to a science. He also tracks the news. Becomes a people watcher. Keeps lists of names of people he thinks the world could do without. People he knows his soft hearted reaper can forgive him for going back on their deal. Steve knows what he’s doing of course but Steve loves him too - too much. Another list Billy keeps is all the things Steve has said he wants to experience of the mortal life, because there are only so many hours in a night, only so many nights they’ll have in his lifetime, and Billy wants to give him each one.

If he lives suspiciously longer than he should as a mortal witch, neither he nor his lover comment on it.

[sigyn-foxyposts]

''Chiffany fan-kid: Charlie Ray-Valentine''

Finally, I got the balls to join in on making my own chiffany fanchild!! :D

[last updated: 6/4/2025]

Full Name: Charlie Ray-Valentine

Nickname: Ghostkid, White Streak, Snakebite,

Age: Minor (no set age yet!)

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: ???

Species: Human (with supernatural ties?)

Parents: Charles Lee Ray (Chucky) & Tiffany Valentine

Siblings: Rachel Fairchild, GG (Glen and Glenda), Caroline Cross.

Pets: Hex (Albino snake)

Backstory:

Charlie was a complete shock to both Chucky and Tiffany, conceived while Chucky was in ghost form after one of his many deaths. When he returned to a body, they realized Tiffany was actually pregnant. Given their age and all the chaos they’d been through, the idea of having another child (especially a biological one) was mind-blowing.

When Charlie was born, he had very distinct features, his oddly colored eyes due to hetrocromia, a condition called poliosis that the nurses thought he had, and his signature moles. In reality, some of these things could've been caused by his ghostly genetics. (Thanks dad..)

Chucky was thrilled at the chance to raise another child in his image, but Tiffany, while loving, was wary of repeating the past.

Charlie grew up aware of his parents’ lifestyle but was never outright forced into it. Instead, Chucky treated murder like a family tradition, often inviting Charlie along for “work.” Over time, Charlie developed a morbid curiosity, and though he doesn’t have the same unhinged bloodlust as his father, he sees killing as more of a ritualistic act, something to be done when necessary, rather than impulsively.

His possession of the Heart of Damballa further ties him to the supernatural, making him an important key to his parents' survival. If anything happens to them, he has the power to bring them back, a responsibility he doesn't take lightly. However, it also means he’s tied to voodoo magic, something he’s still trying to understand.

Despite his dark upbringing, Charlie isn’t purely evil, he has moments of self-reflection, wondering if he can be more than just the son of a serial killer. But whether he wants to be different, or if he’s already too deep into his legacy, is something he still struggles with.

[circeyoru]

The Boy & The Witch = Requested

[Human!Alastor x Witch!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 (here) — Part 2

You heard of the terrifying witch trials from your ancestors, their revengeful spirits and those that were wrongfully accused would scream and cry when the night falls. You mostly couldn’t sleep and would be strolling about in the dead of the night to gather some herbs or sneak into town for some supply. It was one of your strolls that you found the boy in the forest, wounded and beaten

The spirits you befriended avoided an area for reasons of fear and intimidation. You were curious and thought a reincarnation of a witch hunter soul was in the forest, so you went to check it out. You didn’t expect to find a boy resting against a tree with wounds and bruise all over him

You stood nearby debating. It was deep in the forest, any deeper your home would be nearby though it’s protected with charms and the ‘dark’ voodoo magic people fear. Still, it was the state of the boy that made you empathetic. What kind of parents would let their child be such a depressing state? Or let their child this deep in the forest?

So against your better judgment, you stepped forward cautiously, careful not to wake him from his rest. You were unique, more so among your rare kind of witches. You placed a hand over his heart and a white light glowed, his wounds and bruises disappearing slowly. Then you brought him back to your home so he could properly rest

The boy woke up, feeling more refreshed and alarmed that he was not in the forest anymore. He was laying on a couch, his shoes taken off so as not to dirty the sitting. Then he saw you. Perhaps he was still drowsy from his rest, but he felt at peace and warm in your presence. He listened as you explain to finding him alone in the forest and healed him with some special self-made medicine. Then you brought him back to the entrance of the forest before the sunset

It was supposed to be a one time thing. You meeting this boy, then it was back to your everyday life alone in the forest. Yet the boy, whom introduced himself, kept coming back. Perhaps it was a mistake on your part to take him to the entrance of the forest cause now he knew how to go back and front from your place to his home

In his eyes, you were a human choosing to stay alone in the forest in that small but comfortable cabin of yours. You were normal to him. Odd in your life choices. But still, you were someone like a friend, you suppose. You never asked him, but it appeared to be that way since he would return to the forest almost daily

And you had to hide all your spellbooks and anything related to your identity as a witch. You thought it worked

Alastor saw the charms and symbols on random objects, on the path to your home, he’d see some weird drawings as well. Then he tested it out. By then, he had been telling you a lot about what happens around and to him outside of the forest and specifically the bullying and abuse he endured

He grow to love your attention on him, he craves it more and more as time pass with each visit. It was different to the attention his mother would give him and it was a different craving as well, he couldn’t explain it, but it was much like you were his other half that he never had the opportunity of meeting

You appeared to be older than him by a few years, but your knowledge and wisdom of the world was much much more. At first he saw you as an elder sibling. Though the feeling didn’t feel like familial bond. There was something more. He couldn’t place it. Love? No way. You weren’t mean to him like his father and he was coming back to you like his mother, but it can’t be love. Love was unnecessary

While the bully and abuse was described as normal from Alastor, you never saw it that way. The poor boy to endure it all. You snapped when Alastor’s arm was broken and glass shards were sticking out of his wounds, he bit back cries, only sobbing a bit. You didn’t understand why he could still smile

With the snap of your fingers, you put him to sleep, forging his dizziness from the pain he’s feeling, loss of blood, and energy he used to come all the way to you. Then you worked your magic on him, healing his wounds and relieving his pain. You wanted to see who did this to him through his memories but you knew he’d tell you when you wake anyways, so you waited by his side while crafting a voodoo puppet base

The moment the boy woke up, he apologized for passing out and using your home as a resting place. It no issue to you, you’ve gone to care for the boy like a lost baby deer in the forest. You knew, one day, he’d be out of your sight to be free as a bird

“So you mind telling me who gave you such pain?” You asked while holding a sketch pad. You noted down the pointers and drew a sketch of the individuals. One was his bully from school and another was his father. You hummed as you got everything you needed, asking Alastor to give you something that he’d wear the next time he visits

He given you a coat he wears, a bit torn at the edges, but he loves it because his mother made it for him. You added your own touch to the coat. A blessing to protect Alastor from harm, think of it as a lucky coat, you told him, as long as he wears it, he would be more lucky. Meanwhile, to those that would do him harm, they’d be cursed with nightmares one would kill themselves over for that night

“Everyone, I’m sorry to say that we have sad news. A classmate of ours won’t be returning because he had passed away. Apparently he was trying dark magic and ended up… with a bad consequence.” The teacher one day broke the news to the class

The boy turned to the empty seat that was his bully’s, then he looked out the window where the forest would be insight if not for the other building. He kept his composure, but that smile he had widened as je clutched his coat against his form

“Welcome, little one, how was school today?” You greeted him like usual when he visited that day, tending to the plants in your backyard

“It was you. You killed him, my bully.” Alastor spoke so firmly and calmly

You forain innocence, saying you didn’t know what he was talking about. He continued, listing things to be his evidence and to make you crack. You were thinking of keeping his mouth shut so he wouldn’t tell others, but there was that kind human side of you that wanted the opposite of such action, so you continued to listen with a neutral yet intrigued look

He really caught you by surprised with his request

“Please, teach me your ways. You’re human but you have magic, I want to learn dark magic, voodoo. I want to exact my own revenge. It would feel more entertaining and satisfying if it was by my hands!” The look in his eyes and the smile on his face. It told you all you need to know why the spirits avoided him and why they were so fearful of him. This boy was a sleeping demon waiting to break free

You hummed with a small smile, “I can, but I think your name is too pure for someone of your character.” You snapped your fingers, a red staff suitable for the boy appearing. “From this point on you’ll be known as Alastor.” You offered the staff, “Take this and you’ll be learning under me.”

The boy asked, “Why that name?”

A wicked smile formed as you stated, “Man’s defender; avenger. He who does not forget. Tormentor.  It’s actually similar to the name ‘Alastair’, a form of the name ‘Alexander’, which means ‘protector of mankind’. But for you, ‘Alastor’ would do just fine.”

The boy, Alastor, took the staff in his hands and gave it a swirl, feeling its weight before tapping the end to the forest floor and bowed to you as gentlemen would, “Alastor, pleasure to be under your teachings, my dear. Quite a pleasure.”

Note: Love this idea. Been wanting to write something like this, but what came out was {The Spirit's Favourite Human}.

Circe Y.

Other works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[skarletta-arts]

A Brief Introduction to the AU Story of “Hazbin Hotel” - “Valley of Forgotten Voices”

I realized that it’s worth writing a short article with some lore regarding this AU. The lore part is quite extensive, and without explanations, it would be completely unclear what’s happening and what the differences are from the main storyline known from the series so far.

Let’s start with the two main characters of the AU:

Alastor Hartfelt and Anna Cliff.

Let’s begin with the one who is more familiar to people, namely Alastor.

Alastor Hartfelt:

1897 - 1930 (33 years old)

In the AU plot, he is quite a… specific character.

To begin with, Alastor had mixed roots, which was considered unethical at the beginning of the 20th century, resulting in prejudice towards him from an early age.

A tyrant father and a loving mother - two extremes of the family that pursued Alastor from birth, forcing him to realize at a young age that there was no such thing as justice.

One of his small hobbies was setting ants on fire and dissecting frogs to distract himself from the domestic scandals.

Almost every day, when young Alastor returned from his walks, he was met at home by his mother’s screams, his father’s anger, and constant accusations that she had given birth to an abomination.

While this affected Alastor somewhat at the age of 7, by the age of 10 it had become an ordinary reality. After all, there is a wonderful expression: one can get used to anything. And so he got used to it.

When his father was not at home, Alastor could spend time with his beloved mother, who not only tried to raise her son to be a true gentleman but also, as much as she could afford, educated him and instilled in the boy a love for cultural foundations from her side.

And perhaps everything would have continued in its own way until 1907, when foreigners moved into a long-forgotten house on their small street.

A short woman of quite advanced age, and with her a little girl, about 4-6 years old.

It was from this moment that the differences in the formation of Alastor’s personality began.

Differences:

Due to Anna’s presence in his life, Alastor developed a sense of responsibility for another person’s life and pedagogical skills, since Anna barely knew English when grandmother Pelageya brought her to New Orleans. (The part about Anna will clarify why she did this.)

Alastor learns to be more agile and protect not only himself but also Anna. They were something of outsiders in the area where their homes were. A Creole and a Russian fugitive - it sounded more like some kind of anecdote, but that was their reality.

From the age of 13, Alastor becomes deeply involved in Voodoo culture and often resorts to it throughout his life, having faith in the supernatural and having witnessed such things.

At the age of 17, Alastor kills his father, planning it for a year. The boy manages to play on all his parent’s sins and make it seem that no one even suspects him. However, he was sure until the end of his days that his mother knew perfectly well that the father did not disappear without a trace, but her own son had a hand in it.

Until the age of 20, Alastor persistently tries to establish authority, perfect his speech, simultaneously helping Anna find herself, considering the girl as a younger sister for whom he is responsible. This attitude towards the girl will persist until his death.

When the man manages to break into radio broadcasts and become a rising radio host, gaining popularity at an excellent pace, thanks not only to his pleasant timbre and accent, show presentation, but also his appearance - he manipulates to get Anna a position as his assistant to be sure that the girl will always be nearby, in sight, and not get into trouble with her kind heart.

Alastor is a true gentleman. He never raises his voice at ladies, no matter how much they provoke him or annoy him with their presence. The only exception was Anna behind closed doors, and even then, more for educational purposes rather than actually trying to offend the girl.

To some extent, he could be called an avenger. He tried never to kill girls, and 90% of his victims were men. However, if it involved child abuse or some particularly cruel acts, he wouldn’t hesitate to commit such killings. This code of his was formed over years of observing how cruel life actually is and how there really is no such thing as justice in it.

Throughout all the years, he only had a couple of mistakes. In one of those instances, Anna learned the truth about the “Night Avenger.” However, despite all the tears and attempts to persuade her friend to stop doing this… she accepted his point of view and stepped back. At the same time, Alastor began to notice a strange and not particularly friendly sparkle in his “sister’s” eyes, but he never really paid attention to it.

Alastor did everything to ensure that his mother and Anna, after the death of the latter’s grandmother, lacked nothing, trying to give them the maximum benefits he could afford. He also tried to protect his family from gossip and attacks by journalists who repeatedly tried to dig up dirt on him first and foremost.

On the day of his death, Alastor made a mistake. He wasn’t too careful and deviated from his usual, safe route to check a recent body he had buried at the junction of a swampy area and a dense forest. That’s how he got a bullet in the forehead when a sloppy, slightly drunk hunter mistook him for a deer in the twilight and shot him. Anna took Alastor’s broken glasses, keeping them with her always until her own death.

Alastor made a deal in this AU as well, but not with Rosie, but directly with the Loa spirits. Rosie, in this AU, is his close friend, just like Anna.

Alastor, having entered Hell and taking advantage of the fact that he was already quite powerful, having gathered some powers and souls during his lifetime, tried to quickly secure a significant place for himself in order to protect himself.

His new demonic appearance constantly causes him trouble - from reactions to sounds, smells, and other things, to a constant state of terror deep within his soul. His perpetual, forced smile helps to hide these details well. When Niffty came under his command, he personally asked her to sew his smile shut with bright green thread, like a doll's, so that even when he was terribly scared and in pain, he could still smile. Niffty keeps this secret deep within her heart, although Alastor believes she has forgotten about it over the years.

Due to a strange turn of events (explained in the Anna section), Alastor did not recognize Anna when he met her in Hell, although he did recognize Mimi. For a long time, he mistook the girl for just another careless soul who wanted his protection in exchange for their own soul. He did give her that protection, but there were times when he would lash out at her. He learned the truth about this situation under very unpleasant circumstances and felt an immense sense of guilt towards his friend, as well as feelings of resentment and anger towards Rosie, since she knew the truth.

At the moment, this is the main list of differences from the main storyline regarding Alastor. I believe that any new element has a butterfly effect. In this AU, Anna and her grandmother appear in his life, which, accordingly, made some changes to his life, personality, and choices.

Anna Cliff:

1901 - 1938 (37 years old)

Let's begin with Anna herself.

The girl barely remembers her childhood in Russia, as her grandmother took her to New Orleans at the age of 6, but she never forgot her native language. This later developed into a rather interesting and peculiar accent, which she could control with age, but each time she did so, she felt like she was hiding a part of herself.

Anna does not use her real surname. Cliff is the name she was given when moving to another country. At birth, she was Anna Pavlovna Volkova. During her lifetime, only her grandmother, Alastor, and his mother knew her real surname, for which the first one sometimes laughed and called the little girl a careless little wolf cub.

Anna's grandmother took the girl away 10 years before the great revolution in the Russian Empire, as the woman believed in the supernatural (receiving certain signs that something very bad was about to happen) and was not foolish herself. Being at the head of her branch of the court, she understood perfectly well that, sooner or later, despite the good deeds of the tsar, something very large and bad would happen.

With her granddaughter in tow, Pelageya organized an arson of the estate, preparing for it for quite a long time, and then fled to New Orleans, taking the little girl with her. For everyone in Russia, they were dead, as bodies were planted in the burned buildings, in their private rooms.

Anna herself grew up... an interesting girl.

When she first met Alastor in their new place... she understood almost nothing. She just stood there, blinking and smiling broadly, trying to hide her embarrassment at her lack of understanding. She only had basic knowledge of French, as the little noblewoman had been taught since the age of three. As for English... it was a wilderness.

Alastor was surprisingly keen to kill time anywhere but at home while his father was there. So he took it upon himself to teach the girl English as best as he could. 

Over the years, their casual acquaintance developed into a strong friendship, even resembling that of close family members. The girl, albeit talented yet shy and embarrassed, showed good progress in her understanding of the arts, reading, and dancing. However, she was kept away from the arts altogether, not only because she was a foreigner but also because she was a girl. 

As a result, Anna focused more on any work she could find, from volunteering in medical institutions to any part-time job she could get. Her workaholism and desperate desire to help both her grandmother and her friend pushed her to become stronger, exhibit discipline towards herself, and so on. 

Her rare mutation, specifically the rapid loss of melanin in her hair structure, became especially noticeable as she aged, with prominent gray strands appearing against her chestnut hair, adding a touch of exoticism to her appearance.

By the age of 24 or 25, Anna learned Alastor's secret. Her close friend had been committing murders for many years, targeting those he believed were polluting the lives of ordinary people. 

All attempts to dissuade her friend and instill in him the importance of compassion, that this was not the way, yielded no results. However, during rare evening conversations about this topic, Anna increasingly found herself thinking that... she agreed with her friend.

This realization settled deep within her when Anna was about 27 years old. That evening, in an alley, she was nearly raped by two men. She was already prepared to pray to all the gods to protect her body from disgrace, but that very evening, by a stroke of luck, Alastor happened to meet her on her way home. He barely made it in time. 

Seeing what condition Anna was in after the altercation—the trickle of crimson blood from her broken nose and the spark that flashed in her friend's eyes—Alastor could only swear in that moment that deep inside Anna was hiding "it." That very feeling of cruelty mixed with a desire for justice. 

Unfortunately, this incident was forgotten within a few weeks when life returned to its mundane course.

For the next few years, until Alastor's death, everything was relatively quiet but stable. A normal life with work, secrets, dinner parties, stacks of paperwork, and helping her friend prepare for his shows.

However, everything changed when... Alastor was accidentally killed.

At that moment, Anna's false sense of justice shattered completely. Even though a thought crossed her mind that perhaps this was punishment for Alastor from fate itself for how he had used his life, skills, and voodoo magic, that thought faded when she learned who the negligent hunter was.

One of the city's big shots, who, for fun, could drunkenly shoot his own subordinates, break their bones, and inflict deep wounds with a hunting knife. The one who constantly raised his hand against his own wife and children. The one who was dishonest in every way possible.

At that moment, Anna broke. Her morals, her past values, her former principles—all of it collapsed like a house of cards that she had built over many years.

Anna transformed as a person quite rapidly and in fits and starts. First, she took on the responsibility of looking after Alastor's mother (in this AU, she survives her son), tending to her as if she were her own. Second, Anna did everything she could to keep Alastor's secret hidden—that the avenger, the serial killer, was indeed him. (The truth would only be revealed after Anna's own death when her diaries, personal belongings of some victims, and remnants of voodoo magic paraphernalia used by Alastor would be discovered in her home.)

Additionally, the girl... decided to seek revenge. To take revenge on that very hunter. The preparation for revenge took just over a year.

Since the girl herself was familiar with weapons, traps, and the principles of hunting from childhood, thanks to a friend, she had no trouble in just a few months thoroughly studying the area of the forest where the hunter appeared most frequently during the season.

Further on... it got more complicated. The girl devised a system of markings on the traps so that she wouldn’t accidentally get caught in them. She personally had to check all of them, almost injuring her legs in the iron jaws a couple of times. From there, things escalated.

Anna often appeared at the library and, under the pretense of working on another article, discreetly collected information about poisons, researching how various substances could affect living organisms, bit by bit.

Small experiments on animals and rodents yielded results - a toxin capable of causing paralysis while leaving the sensation of touch intact. A side effect was the rapid clotting of blood, which proved to be only an advantage for Anna.

On the fateful day, Anna was ready. Completely. And she waited. Patiently waited for the cry of pain. It happened after a few hours.

The hunter lay on the ground while two of his dogs ran around barking desperately. Anna, wearing a mask of sympathy and pretending she had stumbled upon the scene by chance, acted as though she was going to help him. However, she was merely inching closer to the rifle, intending to mercilessly shoot the barking dogs and strike the suffering man with the butt of the gun.

It took her about half an hour to drag him a little further away, closer to the marshy area where she would carry out her revenge.

Forcefully, she poured the poison down the man's throat and brought him back to consciousness. Then she tortured him. She tormented him until he finally breathed his last. Everything from minor cuts to the severing of ears and finger phalanges was employed. Until the empty eyes of the man stared ahead, and the body stopped even writhing under the whistle of his fading breath.

That day, Anna fully understood that she no longer believed in fairness in this world. And she would never believe in it again.

Three years later, Alastor's mother passed away. Anna was the only one to see her off on her final journey. The woman fell victim to illness and a deepening depression after the loss of her son.

For the rest of her days, Anna engaged in... not entirely legal activities, trying to make do as a con artist.

Until one day, retribution caught up with her.

The children of that very hunter grew up and, through a chain of connections, found the murderer of their father - Anna. And they dealt with her brutally.

That evening, Anna was returning home in her favorite fox fur coat - not particularly thick, with an elegant color, which contrasted beautifully with her now fully gray hair.

The tired girl had been losing her caution more and more over the past year. And she cursed herself more for her own actions.

She was pulled from her deep thoughts when she felt something splashed on her too suddenly. And then - heat.

Unbearable heat that spread throughout her body made her scream in agony and try to extinguish the flames in any way possible. However... all her attempts were in vain. The last thing Anna remembered before her death... was excruciating pain and the faces of a young man and woman, looking at her just as she had looked at the hunter years ago - with a gaze of satisfaction borne of vengeance.

Upon arriving in Hell, Anna was struck by a few things. 

First - Hell exists. 

Second - in the seven years of her life in the world of the living, Alastor had managed to establish a significant position among the Overlords, gaining influence and... changing. The way he was described, his actions, and how ruthlessly he killed other Overlords to climb the ladder of influence was nothing like the person Anna knew. And that frightened her.

But she also didn’t particularly want to interfere in his new life, a life after death. Therefore, she made the decision to avoid crossing paths with him under any circumstances for as long as possible. Anna took the name "Silvana," lived not in luxury, but rather scraped by from one menial job to another among the souls of the damned, until the next cancerous day came a few years later.

Valentino noticed the little, attractive fox who could persuade and seduce customers in a small bar. Despite the fact that the sinner often wore a mask, and her tone of voice frequently changed from her persona, the moth thought that such a specimen would be a nice addition to his growing "crew" of prostitutes. He encourages the girl's replacement to set her up—by breaking expensive bottles, blaming it on Anna, and forcing her to seek help. However, the replacement didn't stop at just breaking bottles; he also looted the cash register and expensive liquor.

Anna finds herself in trouble when she truly needs protection. Complete protection.

The boss threatened her, stating that he would kill her as many times as necessary until the "pathetic girl" reimbursed the losses.

At that time, Valentino appears. Both directly and through his people, he tries to deceive and persuade Anna into a contract, but the girl's intuition, coupled with the knowledge that free cheese is only found in a mousetrap, pushes her towards a difficult decision—she decides to find Alastor.

Valentino's attempts to coax her continue, while Anna desperately searches for a place where the radio demon might be. Following a lead, she learns that he is a frequent visitor in the Cannibal city. That's where she heads.

She only needs a few days to wait for him, to catch him off guard with her sudden appearance and ask for help.

Alastor, after some persuasion, agrees to help. But only through a deal for a soul, not even suspecting whose soul he is about to claim.

A clarifying point—within this AU, Alastor does not make deals with a direct contract, as his powers and their nature have changed. Thus, in the case of Angel and Valentino, Alastor could not discover Anna's true name, which will play a role later on.

For many years, Alastor was haunted by a strange feeling when he was near this girl. As if an unseen ghost from the past. However, he could not think of Anna herself—he sincerely believed that such a pure soul as his childhood friend could never end up in Hell, unaware of how his death had truly broken her and turned her inside out.

So, you have just been introduced to the primary and main storyline of this AU. I will try to share further events and other content in different formats—small text sketches, comics, and artworks.

If you've read this to the end, I would be very grateful and happy to hear your feedback on this lore article. Thank you for reading!

English version of the AU text. If you find any mistakes or anything else - please tell me!

[p0rc3lina]

Hazbin Hotel Circus AU Radioapple

Rough draft of the first chapter if anyone wants to give feedback and inspo that would be great. Trying to keep the motivation up. Working title

Plot: Alastor runs away to join the circus escaping poverty in the Louisiana backwoods. He sends money to his mama because he’s a good boy.

Lucifer copes with being a widow and keeping a circus up and running and raising his daughter.

Alastor’s mother and father had married young Marie Hartfelt was only 14 a Native Creole and voodoo practitioner.  Alfred Hartfelt was 18 and white Lutheran. Marie had been lured in by promises of a happy life, wealth, and true love. Until Alfred Hartfelt was injured on the job he was often in pain and became an alcoholic and abusive towards his wife and son when he was at home. Money was hard to come by as he was often out of work and drunk.

To help keep the family afloat Marie took on work everything from washing laundry, taking on borders to the family home, selling pies and beignets to neighbors and cafes in town, and waitressing. 

Alfred had no problem with his wife working as he was often to drunk to notice or care.

She tried to protect her son from the worst of her husband's violence and outbursts. When things got too bad at home she would pack a bag and go to her parents house where grandpere and grandmere doted on their grandson. Alfred would return in days or weeks begging and pleading for her to come home swearing he had changed and would never drink again. Marie would return home and for a while things were peaceful till Alfred hit the bottle again and his wife and son.

This would be a pattern till his death when Alastor was older.

Alastor was a young boy no older than 7 years old he believed when the circus came to town. He was in town with his mama; they were running errands delivering pies and dropping off ironed shirts when the sounds of music and excited voices filled the air.

“Mama what’s that?” he asked, tugging on her skirt and pointing in direction where all the excitement emanated from.

Marie stopped in her movements; she had a handbag and an empty basket on one arm; she had also heard the music and had recognized it from when she had been a child herself. She smiled and looked down at her young son and said “Come along Alastor let's go find out.” She picked up the young boy and carried him in her arms.

She walked with him till they arrived at mainstreet where she set her son down and held his hand in one of hers as they looked on.

Alastor was amazed by what he saw, his amber eyes blown wide as he stood by his mama; he had never seen anything like what he was watching: two men carried a large banner declaring in an elegant script the “Big V Circus,” behind came an elephant with a woman in a blue costume with matching feathers in her hair, brightly painted carts were being pulled by horses in colorful harnesses and feathers, animals he had only heard of in school and books were locked in cages lions, tigers, panthers, gorillas, monkeys, zebra, wolves, other animals walked freely being led by leashes giraffe, zebra, camels, ostriches, elephants,.

All manner of people in different clothes and costumes went by: the tallest man Alastor had ever seen, adults who were his same height, a fat man sat on a cart being pulled by oxen, a woman with a beard, tattooed men and women, clowns in white face paint and colorful wigs and costumes, jugglers, acrobats, women in very little clothing and veils danced by shimmying their hips and shoulders causing young Alastor to blush and look away. A man in nothing but a leopard print leotard walked by covered in muscles doing acts of strength picking up heavy weights, people playing musical instruments walked by a kalliope on a horse drawn cart, women in bright costumes rode horses doing handstands and standing. A man wearing a long snake draped upon his shoulders walked by, and a woman stopped to lower a sword down her throat.

A fire eater came too close blowing out a large plume of flames and scared the small boy causing him to cower in his mother’s skirts. The ringmaster, catching sight of this, approached Alastor’s mother. 

Marie Hartfelt was the beauty of the town and few men could resist her. Most didn't approach her as she was a married woman.

“Apologies Ma’am we didn’t mean to scare the tyke please accept these free tickets to the circus.”  he said, removing his hat in a bow. He had black slicked back hair and a handlebar moustache.

Alastor’s father was a proud man who refused to accept charity. She looked down at the way little Alastor’s little eyes were blown wide as he looked up at the ringmaster and then shyly gazed at his mother.

She had seen the way his eyes lit up at seeing elephants walk by and all manner of animals and humans had paraded by  and his mouth hanging open she accepted the tickets vowing to keep it a secret from her husband. After all, she had once had a chance to see the circus when she was a young girl.

“Thank you sir.” she said, dipping her head in a curtsy. 

The man smiled, donning his hat and walking off again waving and calling to the crowd the “Circus is in town!”

After the man went by, a boy close to Alastor’s age appeared. He had black hair and blue eyes and wore a blue costume. He was juggling balls and he came up to Alastor and juggled before him asking Alastor if he would like to try.

Alastor shyly nodded as he rarely spoke to other children and tried to copy the boy as he was a quick study even as a child. He tried a couple times dropping one of the balls till he managed to do a couple rotations.

The other boy smiled and took the balls back “You’re a natural. See you at the circus” and he walked away waving and smiling.

They continued to watch as the parade went by with performers in colorful costumes, exotic animals, and unusual people known as “Freaks” the parade moved out of town some of the towns folk followed after.

That night they went to the circus as Alfred was going to a card game and wouldn't be home. Alastor and his mama dressed up in their best clothes, Marie taking care to comb Alastor’s hair. They had an early dinner and walked through town to where the circus had set up outside of town. Marie handed over the tickets and they passed beneath the lit up sign announcing the circus. They milled about the circus grounds taking in the sights there were all sorts of people milling about. Stalls selling every type of carnival and circus food you could think of: hotdogs and hamburgers, popcorn, lemonade, cotton candy, caramel apples, and ice cream.

There were carnival games, everything from games of strength to throwing balls to knock over bottles, dart games, prizes on display, kewpie dolls and chalk ware. Rides were operating ferris wheel, pony rides, fun house, haunted house. The sideshows were advertising with large colorful painted banners and flags announcing all manner of human oddities and talents; some were frightening to a young boy and others were curious. 

Outside announcers beckoned the townspeople to pay a nickel to see what was inside the tent. Performers were outside showing an example of what could be seen. Animals were on display tied up in stalls or behind cages.

They walked by and took in all the sights till the circus was about to begin and they filed into the tent. They had seats on the bleachers and waited until the circus tent filled up with people and the music began and another variant of a parade began around the big top. Alastor was in awe once again. Elephants walked by, people in bright costumes, animals of all sorts.

Vendors walked the bleachers selling all manner of concessions. Alastor’s mama bought them a box of popcorn and a bottle of lemonade they shared amongst themselves.

From the moment it started Alastor was in awe and couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was magic honest to god magic he was witnessing at a tender young age. 

After the parade the acts began: a tightrope walker, acrobats, clowns, jugglers of all sorts, a magician, a knife thrower, a sharp shooter, dancers and singers, trapeze, fire eaters and fire dancers, sword swallowers, aerialists, trick riders, lion tamers, it was all magic.

When the show concluded that night Alastor knew from that moment what he wanted to be when he grew up he wanted to join the circus. It would remain as one of his happiest childhood memories.

The circus remained in town for a week before they packed up and left behind posters that would weather and fade due to the elements . He started by practicing with whatever he could find to juggle: sticks, rags, balls, anything. He dropped a lot of items and where other kids would become discouraged and find something else to do Alastor had a stubborn streak and practiced. At school and the library he looked for everything he could find on the circus books of magic, sleight of hand, juggling, exotic animals, anything and everything. He poured over the newspapers reading what he could and collecting pictures and clippings.

By the time the next year came the circus returned and a silent tradition was started between himself and his mama. During the year Marie would squirrel away pennies hiding them in her sewing kit to take herself and Alastor to the circus every year. 

The older Alastor got the more he practiced and did acts he had seen juggling, sleight of hand, it also helped that his mama and grandmere were part of a coven of voodoo priestesses. Who taught him things as well. He was no stranger to mysticism.

Grandpere often whittled and taught young Alastor how to as well. He was proficient with a knife, often throwing the knife at targets as Alastor grew older he showed his grandson who showed an interest. 

Alastor grew older and could help out around the house and the household even being taught to hunt and clean his kills. It helped ensure food was on the table and relieved household expenses. 

Being older meant Alastor could spend time watching the circus when they came to town and erected the tents with the older boys and townsfolk. He also ran into the same boy who had shown him how to juggle and they became penpals after a while. 

Vincent was the boy's name he had a curious nickname of Vox as it was his stage name he had said. They exchanged letters and Vincent taught him other tricks.

When Alastor was 12 tragedy struck his father who had been stumbling home drunk was hit by a train and was killed. Alastor and his mama attended the funeral. Marieand Alastor would receive a small pension but it wasn’t enough to live on not with a growing boy in need of glasses and new shoes and clothes. 

They took on borders and Alastor became an apprentice to the butcher in town after school running deliveries, cleaning the shop, and gradually how to butcher. The butcher found Alastor’s interest entertaining and they would throw knives at targets while the butcher had cigarette breaks.

Alastor was 15 and his mama was struggling to make ends meet. They no longer had money for the circus but Alastor kept in contact with Vincent.

“Why don’t you run away and join my family's circus. You can send money home to your mother and during the winter you can go home” he said.

“I can’t just leave my mama alone,” he said.

Marie sighed she knew what her son wanted and despite how it would tear her heart up she wanted her son to have a future. “Alastor, if this is what you want I give you my blessing. Go join the circus you can always come home if it doesn’t work out you will always have a home here.” she said.

Alastor and his mama talked for hours. Finally he packed a sack with clothes, a knife, books he liked, and some other sundries. His mama packed him a basket of food and a mason jar of lemonade. She wanted to make sure he had something to eat.

Marie hugged her son close and peppered his face with kisses. “Remember you can always come home and you will always be welcome. I will see you in the winter.”

Alastor met Vincent who reintroduced him to his father.

His father liked what he saw of a tall boy, handsome, well mannered and spoken, with good hygiene. “You can start out as a roustabout. Well, you need to put some meat on your bones so we won't have you do any heavy lifting for now. If anything you can work as a candy butcher during the spec. Vincent says you want to be a performer, well work your way up and show me what you can do you can start out as a working act or a clown.”

He started out as a roustabout, he sold concessions and balloons in candy striped shirts as he was polite, well spoken, wasn’t drunk, and didn’t skim off the take like the others. As a result he was given plum jobs that used his skills.

Whatever money Alastor made he sent a portion to his mama and kept what he made on his person in a money belt he wore beneath his clothes.