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sharonaparadox · 4 months ago

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[Images: fancomic featuring Vaggie and Charlie from Hazbin Hotel, mostly uncolored but for the reds and yellows of their eyes as well as the purples and reds of speech balloons.

The first image has several scenes of Vaggie, her hair down to her chin and hanging forward to cover where one of her eyes used to be; this area is visibly bandaged in most of the drawings. The first one shows her bruised and smiling warmly at the viewer, presumably an off-screen Charlie, as she pulls Charlie’s suit jacket over her shoulders and says, “Thank you for helping me.” Two dialogue options like from a visual novel float nearby with heart symbols preceding the text. The first is pink as if highlighted by the mouse cursor floating over it and reads, “Don’t mention it. Are you okay?” The second choice is in red and does not have a cursor selecting it as it reads, “haha it’s cool. Are you single?”

To the right of this, Vaggie is looking down at the oversized dress shirt she is wearing, her shorts underneath barely visible as she pulls at it. She is blushing and sweating slightly as she says, “Wow, you’re… really tall…” Under this is a close-up shot of her grinning and blushing with her eyes closed, wearing a baggy T-shirt as she says, “I promise, Charlie, it’s fine. It think it’s cute.” In the corner near this is a small cartoony drawing of Vaggie wearing an oversized T-shirt, shorts, and fluffy slippers as she holds up two large mugs with a smile and says, “Good morning”

To the far right, Vaggie is leaning forward with her hand on a surface in front of her, the position hiding her crotch and chest as her dress shirt is unbuttoned to reveal that she is not wearing anything underneath. She is looking forward with a tilt of her head and a slight smirk as she says Charlie’s name with an ellipsis trailing after it.

At the bottom of the image is a panel with a narration box reading, “dreamt that last one” as Charlie sits up straight in bed, clutching her sheets as her demonic horns and tail sprout from her and her loose hair flows up behind her. Her face is rendered in a cartoony style with drool running slightly from her mouth as her red-scleraed eyes stare blankly forward. To the side is a more realistic detailed close-up of Charlie’s now entirely red blushing face as she frowns with furrowed eyebrows, her eyes back to their normal color while her horns recede into her forehead.

The second page is a comic showing the two in front of a stove as Vaggie stirs something, Vaggie wearing an oversized T-shirt and shorts while Charlie, whose hair is pulled into a loose low ponytail, is wearing a sweater vest over a collared shirt with sleeves rolled up to her elbows and high-waisted trousers. The two are seen from behind at first as Charlie says, “So I’ve been thinking, since you’ve been feeling better lately, why don’t we go out and do a little shopping for you? For clothes and stuff.”

Vaggie replies, “Oh, uhh… I wouldn’t want you spending any more money on me…”

Charlie counters, “It’s fine! I want to do this! About time we got you some clothes that actually fit you.”

Vaggie awkwardly responds, “… alright…”

The second panel shifts to show them from the front, Charlie smiling overly widely as she sweats and looks to the side with narrowed eyes and a faint blush, while Vaggie is sweating slightly and looking down with a small frown at the steaming liquid on the spoon she is carefully holding up near her face to check. The pair initially share a thought balloon that reads, “I feel bad.”

Charlie goes on to think, “I like how she looks a little too much in my clothes.”

Vaggie’s own thoughts instead branch off, “I’ve basically stolen her clothes, haven’t I?”

Charlie’s thoughts continue, “It’s probably rude to feel this way about a guest.”

The last three panels are presented from left to right and show the pair in a cartoony style. Vaggie raises her spoon to Charlie with a grin as she asks, “Taste for me?”

Charlie’s tail curls out behind her as she leans forward with her own grin and exclaims, “Sure!”

Charlie then grabs Vaggie by the wrist as she leans down to taste from the spoon, her eyes wide and shining as she smiles. Vaggie is watching her with a mouth in a surprised thin line as she blushes faintly.

Charlie then pulls back and gives two thumbs up as she grins widely with closed eyes and enthuses, “Sooo goood!!” A heart shape can be seen in her mouth, possibly representing her tongue, as she thinks, “Fuck it! Marry me, please!”

Vaggie is tilting her head down and looking up at Charlie with a small grin and a heavier blush as she exhales a puff of air and holds the spoon to herself, her other hand reaching up to the wrist that Charlie had grabbed. End description.]

Gonna milk the fact that Charlie crushed on Vaggie first is canon as much as I can btw. I wanna know what living together was like for them for those few months for the sake of watching Charlie suffer.

#charlie Immediately getting flustered over a cute lady was great! since 4 seasons r confirmed for now maybe we'll get a flashback ep? 🥺#Hazbin Hotel #Vaggie Hazbin Hotel #Charlie Morningstar #Chaggie #i don't think this is all that spoilery? idk #suggestive #bare chest #eye injury #eye contact #bright red #food #nails #long post #mainly bc of the id 😔 sorry

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angstyantoinette · 4 years ago

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Some Yandere Alastor HCs, if you are able?

oh. my. god. absolutely. I’ve literally been waiting for this moment.

Warning: NSFW mentioned.

I DO NOT IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM CONDONE THESE BEHAVIOURS IN REAL LIFE.

(Sorry, but I got way too into this and began writing a full-on oneshot kinda thing. This also took wayyyyy too long to write)

When you first met:

Weakness is an inconceivable fault in Alastor’s mind, it must be used as a gateway for victory, and not for anything else but fear. In all the horrors he has seen and mostly caused, mental or physical weakness is what he uses to rile up his victims, make them think they have a mere chance of survival, while the demon is wrapping his charm and pure agony around their limping body, savouring his victim’s last breaths before they fall still, silent and cold, and he walks off, in search of a new plaything.

He saw that familiar weakness in Charlie, practically being attacked by the sickening scent from the other side of the Pentagram. That Vaggie girl knew far too much for her own good; he heard her dramatically retelling his demonic history in Hell, and he silently chuckled as she shot him venomous glares, to his apparent unacknowledged state.

Pathetic.

And that’s when you walked in. Poor Y/N, making the mistake of coming in that day. It wasn’t as often that you helped out at the hotel, but Vaggie had discreetly called you over in the hopes that you could help plan a movie night or something to cheer everyone up. You showed up with movies, popcorn and a small flask of booze in hopes that you could just forget everything tonight.

You showed up to the hotel with the items, walking in, expecting Charlie to come rushing towards you like she usually did. Instead, you found yourself in a room with a tiny demon cleaning impossibly fast, Angel slurping on a Popsicle being seemingly berated by Vaggie again, and an obviously tipsy cat with wings, who was pouring himself another glass of booze.

You almost didn’t see the red-clad demon, skulking around in the shadows, but a pair of strange eyes caught your attention. They were like radio dials, rich and red. In any other situation you would have investigated it discreetly. But a great evil was radiating from those eyes, of the demonic stranger.

Let’s just say that you didn’t enjoy the vibe that you got from him.

He stared at you for a little while, before shoving out his hand and gracing a huge, cheshire smile across his face; it was unsettling to say the least and thankfully Angel was far more approachable than this deer-like weirdo. However, to be polite, you painfully etched a false smile on your face, aware that it was probably incredibly obvious, and gently shook his hand, desperate to claw your way out of his vice-like grip.

It felt like a million years before this demon ceased his scrutinising and you managed to glide on over to Charlie, and you shoved the red-clad entity out of your mind before beginning to interact with the princess.

Alastor was in shock. Not only did he fail to politely and forcefully introduce himself, he still didn’t catch your name. He had to know. He had to.

You had piqued his interest in mere seconds.

“Charlie, dear, I must leave immediately! Business to attend to, and quite frankly, those low-life scum in the centre have been causing havoc again! Time to return the favour!” A mysterious departure that couldn’t be explained, but it left you and Vaggie more at ease, and you sucked in a breath and continued conversing with everyone. You were just so desperate to forget about him, but even as you drunkenly danced with Angel, debated with Vaggie, and threw yourself onto a spare queen-sized bed in the hotel; the paranoia remained.

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Over a period of time, you had become skilled at avoiding this intimidating new demon, who you came to know as Alastor. You made your outright discomfort very, very clear.

You ensured that all tasks required to being completed were paired up with someone else if needed. In your two months’ of acquaintance, you knew that he was to be wary of. You made arrangments to sleep in many floors away from him, many locks sealing your bedroom shut. After moving permanently into Hazbin Hotel, you had thrown yourself into helping Charlie and the others. You owed your afterlife to them all, for being so good to you.

And Alastor just made the cut. If he wasn’t technically your colleague, you would have never even caught a glimpse of his tall figure skulking and prowling the hallways, smile stretched wide as he hunted for his next plaything.

Admittedly, you had been doing a small amount of research. It became a small fascination, but also an intoxicating frustration that you just couldn’t seem to get rid of. But why was “The Radio Demon” here of all places?

You knew his former life. You knew him now. And you had some ideas about what he was capable of.

And the question still lingered; what was his actual purpose?

Demons of such renown didn’t just show up to random hotels to ‘help.’ They tortured, and played with their victims. They never spared anyone. Ever.

But all of a sudden this red-clad fucker waltzes in, claims to be of “assistance” at at an all too coincidental time of when the staff was in great need?

You were sure he was planning something. An event, anything to with a big, fancy ass gesture to grab Hell’s attention.

A divine, heavenly force would be the only thing now to help you.

A real pity you didn’t know it yet.

Or that you never get it.

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Alastor didn’t understand why you riled him up so much.

His attraction to you was intoxicating, and as he lay in his satin crimson sheets, nights after night, he grew to picture you in a rather...lewd fashion. Many a hazed, oddly relaxing day he had taken a seat, Angel slurping a god-forsaken popsicle and you could either be right there or not; it didn’t matter.

He could imagine you moaning as clear as day, begging, just wishing for him to-

A shameless, electrifying sensation would show itself, making him struggle to carry on whatever conversation, or interaction he may have been having, forcing him to ‘suddenly’ disappear.

Just like this time.

As he was walking upstairs-who knows why, he could have just teleported- hopefully scouring the halls for a glimpse of you. He sighed in pleasured frustration as he continued to search for your figure until-

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Really?”

“As if!”

“Stop calling th- SHUT UP!”

Snippets of anger could be heard, from a few doors down, was it? The laundry room it sounded like, the irritating rumble of the washing machine puncturing the former silence he so desperately desired.

Alastor’s grin only ever widened when he saw you angrily tapping your fingers against the top of the counter near the violently vibrating machine, a tic he has come to love and hate just as much as you do.

“Ah, Y/N dear, there you are!”

His eyes flashed with unforgivable greed as you spun around, arms up in the air, as if you were about to attack him. A silent but gradual chuckle shook his body, the thought of you even attempting to defend yourself against him was simply too amusing.

Watching him with a ferocious cautionary gaze, you ceased your finger tapping and pressed a digit to the washing machine’s button softly, ceasing its deep rumbling.

Diving downwards, you opened the door and pulled out your clean clothes, not noticing a pair of predatory eyes mentally undressing you. Of course you could feel his gaze, and that didn’t make it any more comforting that you were literally bent over in front of him.

Alastor was#s all too aroused comfortable by the view in front of him, and he was left disappointed as you bustled out of the room, steaming laundry in your arms, almost running down the hallway.

A clawed hand picked up a pair of warm, lacy underwear.

Clean. Fresh. His.

And you can’t do anything about it.

You’re not his toy, oh no. You were his prize, his consolidation, his REWARD.

He deserved you. It was safe to say you deserved Alastor too.

So, yes, I know this wasn’t the best. But I felt guilty for not finishing it for so long.

what Alastor the red bastard did next is up to you to imagine :3

thank you for putting up with my inconsistency-

#yandere Alastor #yandere #alastor #yandere hazbin hotel #Headcanon

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blackevermore · 4 years ago

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x Wade In The Water

{ Chapter 5: Leak In This Old Building }

Summary: Ester Scott was once in love. She thought the days of her shortcomings were over and that the man she found was her one and only. But all that was taken away when the demons she had became too accustomed to finally took the one thing she had left. Louisiana was her home but the devil down below was calling her name. She only has herself to blame when it came to the hands dragging her under.

Notes: It’s Hazbin Hotel, be ready for everything. Also I apologize for all my mistakes in advance!

Word Count: 3,950

Souls can sing songs, they can sing you harmonies that have been lost with time. When I rest my feet I sit with waiting souls that sing the blues. They sung me gossip and I told them to hold their tongue for the Lord’s words no longer apply to me. They seem to be saddened by my tainted sweetness and I offer them a coin. Place this in your mouth and do not swallow, when you get there you’ll be rich, that’s what I tell them. It’s all I have to send them off.

- Ester R. Scott

People are going missing again. On the board next to the bus stop are faces of people of all ages. Some photos are drawings, some are handpicked from someone’s personal album, and others are clipping from the newspapers. They are all smiling, unaware that in reality they are gone and may never come back. These photos were the last memories anyone would have of them. Even in passing everyone was affected by the smiling faces of missing people asking for help in black and white. As I look over all the faces, I notice that there aren’t as many black folk as there is white folk. This is odd considering my people go missing left and right and their faces are the ones that go unnoticed for years. I look at the few black faces and they are all women with fancy hair and fancy dresses.

They aren’t missing. They were killed, as simple as that.

I look towards all the white faces and it's mostly men, older men with wrinkles on their face. Men in suits and hats that had their pictures taken when they weren’t working. The women are just the same, beautiful and casual, untouched by reality and living comfortably. These women, until the men, were probably still living somewhere with a lover in hiding. The men were most likely six feet under from a lousy gamble and a terrible fate. On the lower row are children, precious babies that didn’t deserve whatever happened to them. I close my eyes and say a small prayer for them before I turn and walk away. Behind me, I know the angels that were following me are still looking towards the board. Maybe they are checking off their list of people they’ve gathered or maybe sent off to hell. Maybe the devil does the same thing, with a smile wide on his face as he chuckles deeply at all the faces and names he knows. Maybe he turns to his side and gathers someone's attention and tells them ‘I know them, they died last month, we play poker every Saturday’. Then he would laugh and smile at the person creeping them out and watching them hurry off to get away from them.

Or, in a turn of events, the devil’s heart grows heavy as he realizes there is more work to be done with the souls waiting down below.

“Ester?” I stumbled through the front door and Chemintine came out of the bathroom. “Welcome home Ester, I’ve already started cooking.” She smiles at me and I knot my brows. It’s been two weeks since she’s moved in and every day since then she’s been doing more and more for me. First, it was cleaning up the few messes I had left about during the long nights I couldn’t sleep. Then it was washing my clothes on days she didn’t have to go to work but I did. At first, I fussed at her for touching what didn’t belong to her, but when she gave me those big baby eyes I knew it was better to just allow her to do as she pleased. Of course within the range of asking me first, it was my house after all. Now she was cooking for me and I started to feel a bit uncomfortable. The last person that cooked for me was my mama and I would have liked to keep it that way.

“Chemintine, you don’t have to cook, I could have done that.” I take off my shoes and place them by the door along with my coat. Chemintine shakes her head and crosses her arms across her chest.

“I can cook Ester, I’m not gonna kill ya.” She said, shaking her head and moseying off to the kitchen to finish what she was doing. “If I’m going to be staying with you for the time being I need to pull my weight.” I walk up behind her as she is stirring something in the pot.

“Fine, but a rule mama used to have was that if you cook I’ll do the dishes.”

“Fine by me,” Chemintine nodded then turned the burner low for the food to simmer. “Where’ya go today? I thought you didn’t go out much on the weekends.”

“Shopping for the house and for supplies,” I answer. I wanted to tell her to stay out of my business but there was no use when she would be staying here. She would eventually get curious about everything. And me being a kind person would treat her like a child and answer all her questions.

“You sure like to bring work home, don’tcha.” Chemintine laughed and grabbed the bowls.

“Not supplies for work, supplies for my paintings.”

“You paint, Ester?”

“Sometimes. When I have the time for it or if I’m inspired.”

“Will you show me your work, Ester?” Chemintine sets the steaming bowls of porridge on the table.

“I can.”

“Goodie!”

I have to say when Chemintine was given the freedom in the kitchen she could cook. Or maybe I was just hungry. Either way what she made was tasty and left me full and dazed. When I asked her how she knew how to use spices she playfully huffed at me.

“I can season food, Ester, I might be white but I know that pepper and salt isn’t gonna make a person happy. Be kind to me.” I shook my head and laughed, she was right, I should have a little more faith in some white people. Not all of them were terrible cooks and not all of them were terrible people. Some just didn’t want to be the odd man out, no one wanted to be seen as a traitor. But then there were those like Cheminiten that couldn’t give a care in the world and would show her ass to her family if it meant being a decent person. ‘I was raised poor, Ester, but I chose to be a decent person’ is what she told me one night.

We were now in my bedroom on the floor with papers scattered about as Chemintie looked at my art. I didn’t take pride in my art as I did in making clothes. It was just something I did when I wanted to keep my hands busy. Sometimes I would sketch or paint without realizing it. My hands were restless and they had to move or else I was sure they would strangle me. I told that to Mrs Birdy and she laughed at me but I was serious.

“Ester, these are so beautiful! How come you don’t talk about it?” Chemintine held up a sketch I did of my mother when I was younger. It was rough and wasn’t as clean as my newer works but it was timeless as it held my mother’s face. I missed her dearly.

“It’s nothing to talk about. Not like the clothes I can make out of nothing.” I smiled gently and Chemintine shook her head.

“This ain’t nothing, these are something, you could sell them and make big money.” The stars in Chemintine’s eyes weren’t for me in reality. I could see in her eyes I was a world class famous artist, sipping wine with big shots and dancing with millionaires. In her eyes we weren’t living in the 30s anymore, we were somewhere in the future where blacks and whites could sit together. She sure did have an active imagination.

“These aren’t meant to be sold, Chem,” I tell her and she shakes her head again in disbelief. She picked up one piece after the other and fell in love with them. “Ester what in the world are these?” Chemintine moved the papers in front of her to the side and placed down five similar sketches.

I sat up and scooted closer to look at the papers before taking a deep sigh, “Those are angels.”

“Ain’t no angel looking like that, Ester, those are demons.” Chem cocked a brow and gave me a funny look as if I lost my head.

“No Chemintine, those are angels in their purest forms. Angels don’t actually look like us, they take our forms so they don’t scare us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’ll have to take your word, I ain’t been to church ever in my life but I’m sure you have.”

“I go every Sunday, never miss a day. Mama might roll out her grave and haunt me if I do.” I laugh and Chem joins me.

“How ya know these are what they look like?” Chemintine question made me stop for a moment. I could tell her the truth but she wouldn’t believe me. She thought I was telling lies just to pull her leg. Or maybe she would think I’m crazy and take off running for the last bus that came this way. I bit the inside of my cheek and picked up one of the more outlandish sketches and looked it over.

“I can see them, believe it or not, I can see them and could have seen when I was a child.” I put the sketch down and wait for her to say something to dismiss my claim. I looked at her and she looked at me with so much wonder and curiosity. Though I knew it to be true I hoped Chemintine didn’t believe everything she heard. I hoped to anyone that would listen that Chem had some brainpower to be sceptical. But the more I watched her and waited for her to say something. The more I realized she hung onto every word I said and didn’t dare question me.

“You believe me?”

“I have no reason to doubt your words, I’ve known you for three years and you’ve done nothing but spoke the truth to me. The brutal, harsh, unpleasant truth, if you told me the sky wasn’t actually blue I’d believe you. You’re not much of a liar Miss Ester.”

“Well, I’d be.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her nativeness and my foolishness. Clementine giggled and gathered up all the sketches into a neat pile with the angels as the first few pages.

“How come they don’t look like humans to you?” She asked me.

“Ma’am said that God told them to be as truthful with me when they come. They are scary to look at but I’ve gotten used to them.”

“I would scream to the heavens if they came to me like this.” Chemintine body shook and she let out a noise of disgust.

“Maybe they’d react.”

“Maybe,” Chemintine handed me the sketches then stood to go and look at the finished canvases in the corner of my room. She flipped through the few scenic paintings with ‘ooo’s and ‘ahh’s then she got to the portraits. She stopped on an old painting I did of myself right after mama died. I had just turned nineteen and Mrs Birdy had given me work. I was sad during that time and I captured it perfectly with the stroke of my brush. She pulled it from the bunch and held it up to the light in the room. “Why didn’t you smile?” She looked over her shoulder to me.

“That was the year after mama died. There wasn’t much to be happy for, not when you’re treated the way I am.” I got up from the floor and came to her side. My eyes in the painting looked on for miles and miles, searching for something.

“Are you happier now?” Chemintine’s voice lowered an ounce of worry on her lips. I looked at her and sighed before putting my hands on my hips and shrugging.

“I’m not happy but I am better than before.” Chemintine seemed to agree with me and put the painting back in the pile against the wall. The night was coming to an end and she told me she wanted to get ready for bed. I nodded and she was off and out of my face faster than I realized. Now alone in my bedroom, it felt colder, as if Chemintine’s happier energy was what was warming my room. I looked around at all the things that were either mines’ or mama’s, memories hung on these walls along with many restless nights of worry. I went and sat down at my small vanity and started to get ready for bed myself. Slowly I took out the pins in my hair and watched as my faint curls fell down to my shoulders. Mama always told me to take care of myself and my hair, our hair was our pride. My pride wasn’t in my hair, never really was, my hair was just hair and my pride was in my heart. I looked up to myself and just like the portrait, my eyes looked on for miles. I didn’t really know what they were looking for.

“Ester?” Chemintine stood in the door frame playing with the ends of her nightgown. I looked up from my book in bed and nodded. She came over to me and sat in front of me right at my feet on the bed. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said, about the angels.”

“So you don’t believe me?” I raised a brow and Chemintine shook her head wild.

“No, no that’s not it, I was just wondering if you could tell me if they are here. Like if you can see them does that mean they are here? Right now?” Chemintine was like a child whose stomach rumbled at the sight of food. She leaned in closer and hung on to the tense air of my prolonged answer. I sighed and closed my book and looked around my room. I then got up and looked around the house then came back to my bed. I turned towards the window against my bed and peeked out the curtain. If we were in here then surely if they were around they would stand outside. But at last, I saw nothing, just the darkness of the woods behind my house and the bright moon. As I looked back and forth once more something in the branches of the trees caught my eye. I narrowed my eyes to try and make it out but it was too far away. It was two twinkling lights that flickered then suddenly it was gone. Unsure of what it was I pulled away from the window and turned back towards Chemintine.

“They’re not here, normally they are but I guess they finally got busy and left.” I smiled weakly at my own joke.

“Can angels be shy?”

“Can demons?”

“I don’t know,” Chemintine whispered.

“Nor do I.” I patted her shoulder and Chemintine sighed and allowed her shoulders to drop. She must have been really excited.

“Well, goodnight Ester.”

“Night Chemintine.”

}~~{

I never had a problem listening to the word the pastor had to say during church. I used to be able to recite the message of the day to mama in the afternoon when we got home. I didn’t really understand what the messages meant but I knew that mama held them dearly in her heart just like she held me. Righteousness, forgiveness, suffering, overcoming and seeking the path that God had laid out before us. It all started to blend together the more I went and sat in the front of the church. The messages were all about us as black folk having to be strong and stay strong. Our lives were nothing but a game of unfairness that weighed our bodies down.

“They may not be kind to us but we must not stoop low like them. We must be God’s children and give them the same kindness God has given to us.” The church folk had lost their mind to that and started cheering and thanking. I sat in my seat looking around trying to find the reason this message was so powerful. I was tired of having to be the nice one when in town. To keep my head down and never look anyone in the face unless they were the same colour as me. To take all the harsh words white folk had to say to me. The spitting at my feet, the names, ignoring my presents, the waiting in the back, the whites from the blacks. I was tired of it. I was so tired I wanted to go to sleep. So I did.

“Did you hear about what happened up north?” One of the church women behind me started to whisper to the other at the door.

“In Kentucky?” The other woman replied.

“That family was drug out of their house and beaten then set on fire in the middle of the street and no one did anything.”

“That’s terrible, I swear this is too much, how long are we going to have to deal with this?”

“God knows.” The woman at the door shook her head and fan herself with. Dividing that was enough ear hustling for the day I walked passed them, casually bidding them farewell, and making my way down the stairs to walk home. But before I could make it down the church stairs I saw a very familiar face. The devil, like many years before, was standing and watching the people walk away from the church. When he saw me stood up straight and nodded towards me. I looked around to see if anyone else was around me to see him. But I was alone and it seemed like everyone was already gone.

“Evening my dear, how was the message of the day this fine Sunday?” His smooth and chipper voice sang into the air and I shivered. I knew better than to say anything to him but I really didn’t want to come off rude. What if he was to strike me down and drag me off? What if he was also waiting for me to say something to suck the soul out of me? But if he was going to do something to me he would have done it a long time ago when I met him when I was a child.

“Servus was good. The grace of God blessed it himself to make sure we understood it.” I stuttered over my words, careful and ready to run if need be. The devil seemed to enjoy my response and took off his hat to comb through his hair.

“I see that everyone has gone home now and you are walking.”

“Seems so, but that’s okay I can get home.”

“Mind if I walk you?” He asked. I looked around once more hesitant trying to find anyone that could save me from answering him. I truly was alone with him and I started to feel scared.

“I shouldn’t walk with you.” I gripped the bible in my hands tight, begging for any and everything to happen to stop this. If mama was here she would have rung me up sideways and carried me away with the fire of Michael on her heels. She would have told me off for entertaining the devil and giving him the slightest acknowledgement.

“I won’t do anything to you.”

“But you’re the devil.”

“That I am.” His sharp teeth gleamed in the sun and he seemed to notice how uneasy I became. He moved closer to the stairs and I jumped back, his smile softened and his eyes started to invite me. “The devil has morals, my dear, I won’t hurt you nor will I trick you. I simply wish to walk you home.” He held out his hand and I took a deep breath. I shouldn’t go with him. I should tell him I was fine all by myself and that the angels were there, that would have scared him off. Maybe.

“The angels-”

“Do they speak to you to not accompany a gentleman?”

“T-They don’t speak to me.” The devil lowered his hand and hummed, he slowly lit up as he thought it over.

“Then surely I can walk you home since the angels are silent and I promise to keep my word. No harm will come your way.” The devil held out his hand once again and foolishly I slowly took it. When I stepped down from the last two steps I felt something be yanked off of me. I quickly turned around to see what it was and it was two angels looking angrily at the devil. Their wings were spread and their shape features twisted in disgust. One of the angels reached out to grab me but for some reason when they got close they yanked their hand away. I quickly say a prayer under my breath and I feel the devil quickly remove his hand from mine. He quickly collected himself and cleared his throat. He took a step back and placed his hat back on his head.

“I think it’s better if we walk apart, and wouldn't want those nasty fellows assuming things.” He tucked his arms behind his back and started walking the way I was heading.

Careful. Be careful.

The voices in my ears were high pitched and sharp but hushed like a whisper. I had finally heard the angels. One angel looked right into my soul as the other watched the devil. All I could do was nod my head then stumble back to start walking away. I couldn’t take my eyes of the angels as I gripped my bible and my skirt. When I was next to the devil I could hear him grumbling under his breath.

“Nasty things. Nasty, nasty things. Gabriel, Michael, Uriel…..nasty.” His eyes gleamed and his face twisted slightly. He continued to mumble under his breath until he saw me next to him. Shaking his head he took in a deep breath and exhaled. He turned to me and smiled once more.

“Well, aren't they delightful?”

“Truly” Was all I could say.

“Ester?” Chemintine met me at the door, she hid slightly behind it as if she was scared of opening it any further.

“Yes?”

“Who were you talking to?” Chemintine looked back over my shoulder and around a bit before closing the door. I gasped and turned to peek out the window next to the door. When I looked outside the devil was still there checking his watch.

“The man?” I pulled the curtain back just as the devil started to walk away. I point towards him and Chemintine looks.

“Ester, what man?” I look back and see the devil walking but Chemintine shakes her head and pulls away. “I think it might be too hot outside, ya talking to yaself, I think you might need a cold drink.” Chemintine laughs it off and heads towards the kitchen to get me a drink.

I should have known she wouldn’t see him. I was blessed to see the angels but I was cursed to see the devil as well. If God really had a mission for me, he had to hurry up and tell me what it was before something bad happened.

#🔻Red Thread🔻#self ship #self shipping #self shipping community #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel

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