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zaebeecee · 2 months ago

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Drowning in Stardust

🦌 RadioDustTober: Short Story Edition 🕷️

Day 05: Ravenous

Semi canon-compliant (pre-relationship)

CWs: Gore, cannibalism, self-mutilation, non-sexual sadomasochism

Sinners are very good at healing from injuries, but unless they have enough strength, it can take a very long time. Unfortunately for Angel Dust, Alastor’s reconstitution energy comes from his food.

Word count: 2151

•••

Almost nothing about the Sloth District in Pentagram City made it a particularly pleasant area to linger in. Sure, the drugs were pretty great, and there were a few nice heroin or hookah dens if you knew where to look, but most of the place consisted of slums full to bursting with broken glass and buildings that needed to be condemned and tetanus (probably). It was where Angel Dust had lived before meeting Valentino and getting taken on at VoxTek, hopping from hostel to hostel without any real direction in mind.

Suffice it to say, Angel didn’t like the Sloth District if he wasn’t getting high as balls, and he sure didn’t like hanging out there.

Currently, however, Angel had no choice but to hang around the Sloth District. Specifically, he was currently in a tacky one-room apartment with a bare mattress on the floor in the corner and a bedsheet nailed over the window, the ambience of two people having a screaming fit somewhere in the alley down below and someone else across the hall beating someone with a violin (judging by the sound) the only noises he could hear. The apartment had been occupied just ten minutes earlier by some scumbag Angel had met a few times, known in the hooking circles for asking prostitutes to take some real weird pictures that he turned around and sold as his job.

He hadn’t been thrilled to see Angel, but a knife to the guy’s throat and the threat to deglove him had gotten him out easily enough.

Great. Now what do I do?

Angel walked over to the mattress on the floor and sat beside it, watching as Alastor held his side and breathed sharply through gritted teeth. He was flat on his back on the mattress and rapidly soaking it with blood from the hole in his torso and fuck only knew how many other places, his skin grayer than usual and his lip curled to reveal the black, oily gums above his upper row of teeth.

“I’m fine,” Alastor hissed for the third time since they had arrived inside the apartment and Angel had dumped him rather unceremoniously on what ended up being the only soft surface in the whole room.

Angel snorted under his breath, looking down at Alastor as the Radio Demon opened his eyes and stared angrily up at the ceiling. “Uh-huh. You’ve said that. You’re still flat on your back, Smiles, ain’t no amount of ‘I’m fine’ changin’ that.”

Alastor made a soft growling sound that, hilariously, reminded Angel of the noise Kee Kee made when someone tried to budge her while she was comfortable. “I do not require coddling, Angel.”

“Oh, trust me, I ain’t coddlin’ you. I’m actually thinkin’ about slappin’ you around some, since you ain’t in no position to fight back.” Alastor made a sound that was almost a begrudging laugh as Angel turned, sitting back against the wall beside Alastor’s head. “You can’t teleport. I am not luggin’ an injured Radio Demon around the city and makin’ both of us targets. Until you get those wounds closed up, we’re stuck here.”

“Charming.”

Angel refrained from reminding Alastor that this wouldn’t be a problem in the first place if he hadn’t allowed himself to rise to Vox’s latest baiting attempt. Alastor was probably well aware without Angel making a big thing out of it; besides, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Velvette had managed to sneak up on Alastor and literally backstab him, Vox probably wouldn’t have posed much difficulty for him at all.

Kinda glad he pulled this shit while I was leaving work. If Val had gotten to him before I could…

“If it makes you feel better, you broke Vox’s screen.”

Alastor’s giggle was pained, but sounded brighter. “Too bad I couldn’t take his other eye.”

“It’d do his face good.” Angel turned his head to look at Alastor. “So, Mista Ovalord, how does your whole healin’ shit work? You got more power than me, and I heal up quick, so…”

“Usually, physical wounds stitch themselves enough for function rather quickly,” Alastor said, his voice strained. “…however, if my reserves of energy are lacking, that leads to slower healing, as well as…” He waved one hand weakly, then winced, pulling it back. “Nnh. My magic won’t cooperate.”

Angel frowned. “You got a low battery there, Smiles?”

“That… is one way of putting it, yes.”

Angel tilted his head as Alastor’s eyes moved until their gazes met. It only took a moment for it to click. “…you’re hungry, ain’t’cha?”

Alastor’s eyes brightened somewhat. “Ravenous.”

“Fuck.” Angel sighed. “Look, don’t go bitin’ my throat out. I’ll see if that fuck’s got any food.” He got back to his feet and crossed to the pathetic excuse for a kitchen, looking through the fridge and cabinets for anything edible. “Let’s see… we got a single can of beer, half a bottle of mustard, a slice of cheese that’s almost all grey… empty cracker box… somethin’ like a spoonful of pancake mix… the fuck is this guy doin’ with his afterlife?”

“I suppose meat would be quite the unreasonable expectation,” Alastor said.

Meat. Right. Angel sighed. He could always either go get food, or try to grab someone off the street, but he really didn’t want to leave Alastor without supervision. He was less afraid for his health and more worried that the overlord would try to do something stupid like leave, so Angel leaving the room was out of the question. “…hey. Alastor. I’m gonna ask you somethin’. Can you give me an honest answer?”

Alastor hesitated. “…I will do my utmost.”

That was good enough, he supposed. “How accurate do you think you’d be with a knife right about now?”

Another hesitation. “Nowhere near accurate enough for my tastes.”

“Mmkay.” Angel kept looking through the drawers until he found his new target, then went back to Alastor, sitting next to the mattress again. He held up the kitchen knife he had found demonstratively. “I know Sinner anatomy is weird, but do you got any idea where my liver is?”

Alastor was staring at him. “…what the fuck are you talking about, Angel?”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t interested in hangin’ out here any longer than I gotta. If you’re gonna get us outta here, you need to heal. For that, you need meat. I got meat. I ain’t flexible enough to cut out my own kidney. So, where’s my liver?”

That isn’t a good enough reason. I know that. I can tell he knows that, too.

Alastor didn’t say whether or not he could tell it was bullshit. Still, his surprised expression hadn’t changed, except to sharpen with obvious hunger. “…how do you know I won’t eat more of you once you’re vulnerable?”

“Because that’d be a shitty way to thank me. Now c‘mon.” Angel helped Alastor sit up, then removed his own shirt, tossing it to the floor next to him.

Alastor shook his head weakly. “…so strange,” he murmured. He then reached out, his hand touching Angel’s side. Angel raised his arms, giving him room and trying not to giggle when Alastor squeezed his flesh to feel… something. His organs, Angel supposed. Eventually, Alastor ran a finger over one place on Angel’s torso, tracing out a rough shape, his claw leaving a faint pink trail of the mildest pain. “Here. It’s here. …you know this will hurt quite a bit, don’t you?”

Angel shrugged. “I’ve done all kinds’a shit for work. This don’t even make the top ten list.”

Even back when he was alive, Angel hadn’t been afraid of pain. Maybe it was some kind of psychological side-effect of all the bullshit he’d been through, but honestly, Angel tended to prefer his pleasure with more than just a little bit of pain. Self-inflicted hurt wasn’t something he usually did, though, and he had to wrap two hands around the handle of the knife to keep it from shaking. He kept his eyes down, touching the tip of the blade to the line Alastor had scratched into his flesh and drew a deep breath.

It won’t hurt any less if you hesitate, dummy. Just do it.

Maybe the Sloth District had been the right place for this after all. No one around here paid any attention to any noise, no matter how alarming, if it didn’t concern them, which meant no one even came to the door when Angel stabbed the knife into his flesh and was unable to swallow a sudden howl of pain. He doubled over somewhat as the blade pushed further into him, and he would have fallen over if he hadn’t had the sudden, steadying pressure of Alastor’s hand on his shoulder, holding him up. One of Angel’s other hands reached up to seize onto Alastor’s arm in return, holding onto him like a lifeline. His forehead pressed into Alastor’s shoulder, and he could feel the other Sinner’s cheek against the top of his head, keeping him steady. Grounded.

As Angel slowly carved into his own body, he couldn’t hear his own pained noises, or the odd violin sounds, or anything out on the street; all he could hear was the steady sound of Alastor’s breathing, slowly growing heavier and faster as Angel’s blood cascaded from the wound and poured down his stomach, his leg, pooling on the floor and soaking into the mattress already wet with Alastor’s own blood. A soft rumble in his chest, like the low growling of a starving beast, began to resonate in the scant space between them when Angel sliced through something thick and meaty deep inside himself with an audible snap.

“Fuck,” Angel whispered, pressing his head further into Alastor’s shoulder. The overlord didn’t flinch, instead holding him more firmly, keeping him steady; Angel slowly became aware that Alastor wasn’t just breathing hard and growling, but he was murmuring to him. The words weren’t intelligible to him, but it didn’t matter what he was saying, just that it was comforting, somehow.

Alastor’s hand covered Angel’s own as he reached in to pull the organ from his body, shiny with blood and disconcertingly warm. Gently, Alastor took his liver from him, whispering, “Thank you, sha.” Angel was pretty sure he nodded, and he had a mind to raise his head from Alastor’s shoulder, but he couldn’t force himself to move even that much. Alastor didn’t push him away, either, and Angel wasn’t sure if that was better or worse when he heard Alastor’s teeth tearing the flesh that had so recently been a living part of his own body.

Angel closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of blood and viscera, listening to the noises of the Radio Demon eating him, and wondered when the fuck he had lost his mind to the point that this was anything other than his literal worst nightmare. It was horrifying, sure—you’d have to be a special kind of absolutely insane to shrug off minor self-disembowelment and voluntary participation in cannibalism—but even with all of that he knew he would rather be here with Alastor than at VoxTek, and wasn’t that concerning?

Angel closed his eyes, sound and sensation fading away as the loss of blood and pain began driving him so far into lightheadedness that he could have sworn he was floating out of his body and into nothing. It lasted hours or seconds, Angel couldn’t tell which, and then it was darker and the pain was back and he couldn’t smell blood anymore.

When Angel opened his eyes, he was staring at his own ceiling. His hand found his side, tracing thick stitching that was now holding him closed. And there was a light on in his room, a lamp that he kept but didn’t use very often, that wasn’t anywhere near his bed.

Slowly, Angel turned his head, only to see a chair he didn’t recognize with an occupant he definitely did. Alastor seemed to have conjured up some sort of fancy armchair that did not match the rest of the furniture in Angel’s room, and he was situated beneath the lamp, an open book in one hand. His other hand was resting on Fat Nuggets’ back, the little hellpig fast asleep in his lap and audibly snoring with little snuffling noises.

…is he making sure I’m okay…?

Angel felt something strange in his chest, a swelling of warmth that replaced the empty feeling of losing an organ, as he watched Alastor gently pet Fat Nuggets between his horns. The warmth was… alarming, Angel decided, but before he could resolve to crush it, his eyes fell shut and everything once again became dark and peaceful.

He dreamed that Alastor was devouring him piece by piece, and when he woke, he filed the dream away with everything else he never wanted to think too hard about.

•••

#my writing #drowning in stardust #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #radiodust #hazbin radiodust #writing challenge #writing prompt

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excessively-english-jd · 8 months ago

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Some Thoughts

So... Lilith left 7 years ago, and Charlie hasn't seen or heard from her since. Alastor has been missing for the past 7 years. Definitely not a coincidence to have these timelines match up, obviously everyone has already figured that probably, these have something to do with each other. Alastor is trapped by a deal, and it makes sense that that deal might be with Lilith.

But, there's a big question of... why? Why would Alastor make a deal with Lilith? By all accounts, he's a massively powerful overlord, who commands huge respect due to his ruthless reputation, who seems to be in good or at least not-hostile standing with most other powerful overlords, like Zestial. What need would he have to make a deal where he's the party under contract, and apparently a bad contract that he wants to escape?

Well, Vox is notably the one who first mentions that it's "been 7 years" since he last saw Alastor. From his and Valentino's conversation, it seems a lot like they last saw Alastor 7 years ago - and assumed he was gone for good and not coming back.

In this same conversation, Valentino mentions Vox being pissed that Alastor "almost beat [him] that time". There's also a line where Valentino references Alastor "[owing them] a lot more than money". Vox says "things have changed a lot since he left town". To me, this seems like it could all be related.

Picture: 7 years ago, there was a large turf war between The Vees and Alastor. They're all formidable forces, so the battle is huge in scale and in casualties (owing more than money - because so many resources, so many contracted souls, so many important structures were lost). Alastor and Vox are reasonably evenly matched, though Alastor almost beats Vox - but potentially the alliances Vox has with the other Vees ends up just about giving him the upper hand over defeat (Alastor almost beat him that one time)(he'd be nothing without the other Vees). Alastor, like he does with Adam, disappears before he can be killed.

Alastor, badly hurt, low on contracted souls, having lost territory, is now vulnerable and desperate. Having seen him defeated by the Vees, he's at risk of attack from other Overlords. There's also the risk of the Vees pushing further into his territory to oust him. And, of course, he's badly injured and unable to properly defend himself.

Sounds like the perfect situation for a deal. Lilith, assumedly already planning whatever it is she has in motion, could see use in Alastor. Once he's back to full strength, he's formidable and respected. He'd be a good guard dog for Charlie. He's also likely to go along with Lilith's plan, if she promises him more power (even if she doesn't necessarily plan to follow through with that, but that's another theory).

So, Lilith makes a deal with Alastor, very soon after his defeat. He disappears with her for 7 years to recover, and to prepare for Lilith's plan (it's been 7 years. They thought he was gone for good). In that time, his absence allows for a change in the layout of territories in Pentagram City, and for a change in power structures - notably, that the Vees massively expand their power and influence, to the point that Vox's tech is everywhere, and they have a very central stronghold - including what seems to be a TV shop right next to Alastor's major radio storefront (things have changed since he left town, and it's time to show him who's really the boss now).

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vees #the vees #i am probably not the first one to think of this as a possibility but oh well

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cryssyd · 7 months ago

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A Love Beyond Hell

Previous: Chapter 5

It is an adaption to "Always and Forever" by ChaoticDoll (MadamMimic505) at Quotev.com.

Pairings: Alastor x Reader (Julia) Female

Summary: What happens when Julia discovers her husband's dark secrets hidden away in the basement?

Warnings: 18+ Content, Established Relationship, Violence, Death, Graphic Details, Pregnancy and Birth, Smut, Minors DNI

Chapter 6

Julia woke up to find Alastor missing, but this time she didn't feel any concern. She understood that Alastor couldn't stay with her for extended periods as it required a great deal of energy. However, she couldn't fathom how he managed to return after witnessing his demise. It felt like a hidden blessing. Stretching her arms and letting out a tired yawn, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, ready to start her day. With Alastor's return, Julia realized she needed to retrieve a few things for him.

She couldn't bring herself to part with his belongings, so she carefully packed them into boxes and left them on the basement steps. The basement, where Alastor used to keep his hunting gear and process the deer he hunted, remained off-limits to her. Instead, she spent her days upstairs, engrossed in her sketches. Looking at the bed, she couldn't help but smile at the dent he left behind. Did he even need to sleep anymore? The unanswered questions weighed heavily on her mind, but for the first time in a long time, she felt at peace in his embrace.

She smoothed out the comforter, making sure it was perfectly tidy once more. Making her way to the dresser, she picked out a fresh set of clothes and decided to get ready for the day. Slipping into the red and black checkered dress, a favourite of Alastor's, she completed the look with a pair of black Mary Jane shoes. Stepping into the bathroom, she began to brush her hair, effortlessly untangling any knots and eliminating the remnants of bedhead. As she glanced at her once-injured neck, she couldn't help but notice how much it had improved. It was as if the injury had never occurred. Allowing her hair to fall naturally onto her shoulders, she opted for a simple, natural look. With her preparations complete, she left the bathroom and contemplated retrieving the boxes from the basement.

‘Alastor must be missing his clothes, right? Even if they're a different shade of red now, he'd still want them back. Of course, he would’ As she descended the stairs and scanned the living room, Alastor was nowhere to be found once more. Could he have left for good? Pushing away those unsettling thoughts, she reassured herself that he would return. That was what she believed as she turned the corner and headed towards the basement door.

As Julia strolled down the corridor, her gaze naturally gravitated toward the assortment of framed photographs adorning the walls. Each image held a precious memory of the two of them together, back when Alastor was alive. There was the one capturing the moment he proposed, another featuring the trio of Julia, Alastor, and his mother, a snapshot from their very first date, a glimpse of Alastor in his element as a radio host, and even a picture of Julia striking a pose with a group of deer. Amongst them, proudly displayed, were a few of her own framed drawings. These photographs never failed to bring a smile to her face.

Alastor's appearance had certainly changed, now adorned in a vibrant shade of red. Yet, it didn't matter to Julia. He was still the same handsome man she had known and loved. Perhaps he had chosen this form for her, knowing how much she adored deer. Or maybe he had been reincarnated? The workings of the afterlife remained a mystery to her.

It seemed like Alastor didn't have any wounds, at least not that Julia could see last night. Perhaps injuries vanish when someone passes away? Alastor always wore his long coat with sleeves, maybe he had scars hidden underneath but didn't want to reveal them. But wouldn't his head wound still be visible?

As they settled down for dinner, Julia found herself unable to take her eyes off him. It was hard to believe that he was sitting across from her, even though he had passed away. His face remained unblemished, without a single scratch. Her hand grasped the cold doorknob of the basement door, which held no fear for her. At least, not that she knew of. It had mostly been used for storage, and Alastor had turned it into his personal man cave. Not that she minded. He enjoyed tinkering with things, so she had given him his space. Reaching for the light switch, the lights flickered before illuminating the room, allowing her to see ahead. Most of the boxes were still in their original places, except for one. With a sigh, she picked up the three boxes and placed them in the hallway, before cautiously descending the creaky steps to retrieve the final box.

It had been a while since anyone had ventured down here, Julia thought as she dodged the cobwebs. She didn't want any spiders crawling into her hair. Pausing to glance at the steps, she noticed a suspicious stain. Julia simply shrugged, choosing to overlook it. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she spotted the last box containing all of his blazers. With a huff, she finally reached the cold concrete floor. Bending down to grab the box, Julia glanced over her shoulder and saw a wall filled with various tools, mostly sharp ones. Beneath them, a wooden workbench was covered with a tattered tarp. Julia had never seen Alastor's workshop before. Standing up once more, she left the box at the foot of the stairs. The wall was adorned with numerous sets of antlers and old newspaper clippings. Squinting to read the faded ink, she could still make out some of the headlines.

Louisiana is on edge as a possible Serial Killer lurks in the shadows. Families are reporting loved ones missing, and authorities have identified a disturbing pattern - someone vanishes without a trace every six weeks.

Five gone

Radio programs are better than ever!

A local radio show host weds a girl from a small town

Ten absent

Julia arched an eyebrow, her mind briefly recalling some vague information she had heard about it. However, she had made a conscious effort to steer clear of the News, as it always seemed to be filled with nothing but heart-wrenching tragedies. A shiver ran down her spine as the haunting voice of the man who had taken Alastor away resurfaced in her thoughts. Should she distance herself from him? A whirlwind of conflicting emotions churned within her heart, causing it to ache once more. The voice of the man, consumed by the flames the previous night, echoed in her mind. ‘My brother made a difference! Can you believe he shot him for a reason!’

As she moved away from the workbench, her eyes grew wider and she instinctively held her chest. Looking down at the floor, she could barely make out the faded stains of dried crimson blood. There was no possible way Alastor could be involved in those mysterious disappearances. It had to be the blood of animals! But why was he out in the woods late at night? Wasn't he supposed to be working? Or perhaps he should have been in bed with her?

Was he a serial murderer? He would never harm her, not even once. He had concealed it expertly. Julia couldn't understand why her hands felt so numb as she clutched her chest. How long would it be before she found herself in danger?! 'No,' she screamed silently in her mind. 'He wouldn't betray me like that. He would never harm me.'

Julia's mind raced with thoughts as she questioned the true intentions behind Alastor's marriage. Was it all just a ploy to get closer to her before unleashing his sinister blades? The image of him returning, his appearance far from angelic, sent shivers down her spine. Angels were supposed to be gentle and kind, not capable of tearing someone apart and leaving no trace behind. Yet, she desperately tried to reassure herself, "He would never hurt her." After all, if he had intended to harm her, wouldn't he have already done so? Alastor always looked at her with adoration and protected her from the deranged intruder who had invaded their home. He cooked for her, tended to her wounds, provided comfort, and showered her with love and care. Julia's racing thoughts began to calm as her logical mind reasoned with her nerves. "He wouldn't go to such lengths if he intended to harm her," she thought, finding solace in her reasoning.

The love he had for her enveloped her completely, warming her heart. His actions spoke volumes about his deep affection and devotion towards her. Suddenly, she felt his hands gently resting on her shoulders. "Darling, I didn't intend for you to discover this in such a manner, but I owe you an explanation," Alastor's voice carried a cool static, while his hands felt both warm and cold. He slowly turned her around in his embrace, and she found herself unable to resist or push him away. Her conflicting thoughts vanished, and she gazed up at him from the safety of his arms.

“I vowed to you, remember? I swore I would never harm you; I swore I would never abandon you. You belong to me just as much as I belong to you, even beyond death my love." He whispered. "And now you've witnessed the shadows within me. I understand that killing can be savage, but I can assure you that I did not target the innocent. The only blood I shed was that of vile drug addicts, abusers, and murderers. The scum that didn't even deserve the ground they walked on." Alastor sang softly, his crimson gaze locked with hers as his grin grew wider.

"I would never allow any harm to come to you, my love," he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I was eradicating the criminals that had slipped through the cracks of the law, the ones who were never held accountable." His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. Julia gazed into Alastor's intense crimson eyes, comprehending his words with the utmost care, and softly inquired, "So, that's why you were out so late?"

He gave a solemn nod. "Indeed, my dear, that hunter caught me in the act of cleaning up, then set his dogs on me, before ultimately ending my life with a bullet to the head." With a heavy heart, he brushed aside his bangs, revealing the red X on his forehead to Julia, who couldn't shake the memories of that dreadful day - his vacant stare, the blood seeping from his fatal wound.

Julia was well aware that it was morally incorrect. Murder, without a doubt, was a heinous act. Taking someone's life was undeniably wrong. However, in a disturbing and distorted manner, Alastor was carrying out his version of justice, a justice that the legal system had failed to deliver. Julia comprehended this twisted logic and recognized that love had a peculiar ability to enable individuals to comprehend their partners in ways that ordinary people simply couldn't grasp.

"Is there anyone else aware?" She inquired, finding comfort and security in his embrace. Alastor simply shook his head. "No one else, my love. Just you and me. I understand this may come as a surprise, but try to see things from my perspective, won't you?"

With a deep inhale, she found it hard to believe her husband was capable of such terrible things, yet he took down murderers and everything in between. Their eyes locked once more, his gaze soft and filled with admiration and love. His gloved hand gently held the back of her head as he leaned in, pressing his cold lips against hers. Her heart fluttered, pushing away the sadness she had felt earlier. Alastor had a way of affecting her like no one else. Despite the wrongness of it all, he did rid the world of evil.

After uncovering the disturbing truth, she realized he would never harm her. It was a conflicting feeling, but she couldn't bring herself to despise him. Despite Alastor's brutal actions against those awful individuals, he paradoxically saved lives by ending theirs. It painted him as an anti-hero, albeit still a villain. Julia had already made her decision and nothing could sway her. She remained loyal through all the trials and tribulations of their relationship. Losing Alastor was not an option for her - she would rather die.

Julia's cheeks turned a rosy shade as she moved away, resting her forehead gently against his chest, her heart racing. "You... you didn't go to Heaven, did you?" she whispered, the question escaping her lips effortlessly. Alastor let out a soft chuckle. "No, my love, not at all. Hell may be a place of darkness, but I never succumbed to its temptations. My thoughts were always consumed by you, my dear."

Exhaustion washed over her, a result of the emotional chaos she had endured. Her hands, seemingly independent from her own will, gravitated towards his soft, crimson locks, intertwining her fingers within them. "Alastor, the past is behind us now. But as long as I have you by my side, promise me that you'll never abandon me again. Can you do that for me?" The demon emitted a low, contented sound. "Agreed," he whispered, leaning into her caress. His delicate, deer-like ears folded gently to the side, his fair complexion tinged with a rosy hue.

"May I inquire, what are you currently?" she asked, her curiosity genuine. Pressed against him, she suddenly realized how much warmer Alastor felt now compared to when he was alive. His crimson eyes gazed down at her with a mischievous grin. "A negotiator, a ruler. A demon, but above all, your devilishly attractive spouse," he replied. She smiled back at him, mirroring his expression. "And what about those shadow creatures? Are they an added perk?"

“Don't worry about those little minions, my dear. They are simply unfortunate souls who dared to ask for more than they could handle”. He squinted his eyes, his smile stretching even wider.

Was her soul truly at stake? She couldn't help but wonder as she felt her cheeks flush with warmth. Alastor's secret seemed to ignite a fire within her, making her question her nature. Were they both destined for darkness or was it just a twisted kind of love that bound them together? The static hum in the air signalled a shift in the atmosphere, and before she knew it, she was being swept off her feet by the Radio Demon. His embrace was both comforting and exhilarating, leaving her breathless as she held onto him tightly. With a seductive growl, he smirks, captivated by the sweet and delicate soul before him. Its pure beauty surpasses anything in heaven, making it a soul he longs to cherish.

Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she sensed the familiar rhythm of her heart in response to his tone. Alastor's feet eagerly clattered against the wooden stairs as he swiftly whisked Julia away from the dimly lit basement.

Alastor's grin widened as he spoke, "Perhaps, I can fulfill one of your desires without any conditions. I can assure you of that." Julia's eyes grew wider, unsure of what he was implying at first. However, it didn't take long for her to realize the truth. "Wait, how did... you don't mean..." Alastor remained silent, choosing instead to carry Julia through the living room and up the stairs. Despite his slender frame, his strength never ceased to amaze her. As they ascended, a peculiar sense of comfort filled the air, creating a heavy yet reassuring atmosphere.

"I have my methods, my dear. And now, if you'll allow me, I'd be delighted to have you." His deer-like ears twitched as she looked down and noticed a wagging tail. 'Adorable,' she thought. Locking eyes with him again, she saw them gleam in the dimly lit room. A sense of electricity crackled in the air as the demon pinned Julia beneath him. She responded with a mischievous grin. "Bring it on, my infernal paramour."

As they entered their bedroom, Alastor gently laid Julia down on the soft duvet. He enveloped her with his slender arms, planting tender kisses all over her face. In the midst of it, he hummed one of his favourite melodies, creating a soothing atmosphere. Alastor whispered sweetly, his nose nestled in the curve of her neck, "You are breathtaking, my beloved." Julia shivered with delight as she felt the coolness of Alastor's skin against her warmth. The sensation of his erection brushing against her lower abdomen intensified her desire for him. Alastor continued to shower her with affection, his lips grazing her neck and leaving beautiful marks in their wake. The touch of his sharp teeth against her pulse point made her gasp for breath. With each passing moment, he moved lower, never breaking the closeness of their bodies.

Julia let out a soft sigh, her fingers sinking into the softness of his hair as Alastor's lips enveloped one of her nipples. His hands began to explore, one sliding between her legs, skillfully arousing her. The other hand moved to her neglected breast, teasing her sensitive nipple with his thumb and forefinger. "Darling," Alastor released her nipple with a playful pop, his tongue tracing circles around her areola. A moan escaped Julia's lips as Alastor's ring finger gently entered her. Holding him close, she tugged at his hair, eliciting a deep groan from his lips.

Alastor's touch sent shivers down Julia's spine as she arched her back in pleasure. His fingers moved with a deliberate rhythm, driving her wild with desire. Switching his attention to her other breast, Alastor's lips teased her sensitive skin, causing her to let out a sultry moan. Julia's body quivered as he added a second finger, pushing her closer to the edge. With each movement, Alastor's desire grew, evident in the groans that escaped his lips. "I need you," Julia pleaded, her eyes locking with his in a desperate plea. A thin line of saliva connected them, heightening the intensity of the moment. The raw desire in her gaze only fueled Alastor's own need, his manhood throbbing with anticipation. She bit her lip, her expression a mix of longing and urgency, as they both teetered on the brink of ecstasy.

Alastor's grin widened as he withdrew his fingers from Julia's wetness. Without missing a beat, he slid the throbbing head of his hardened shaft along her folds. "Oh, my love. Have I aroused you this much?" Alastor smirked, allowing the tip of his manhood to breach the tight entrance of her core. Julia nodded eagerly, pressing her hips closer to his. "Yes!" She moaned in delight, knowing that this was only the beginning. A low growl escaped Alastor's lips, the sound vibrating through his chest like radio static. "I hope you understand, my precious, that I desire to fulfill your every need as well." With those words, Alastor plunged deeper inside her, stretching her walls to accommodate his length. "Fuck, you're so tight. You're squeezing me so wonderfully, my darling." Alastor hissed through clenched teeth. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, their bodies melding together in perfect harmony.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt Alastor stir within her. Their bodies pressed together, igniting a fire that consumed them both. "Alastor, you feel incredible..." Her fingers tangled in the back of his hair, pulling him closer to her. Alastor's lips brushed against hers, teasing and tantalizing, as he entered her with a slow, deliberate thrust. "My love, you were made for me, and only me," Alastor whispered against her mouth, establishing a steady rhythm. She couldn't help but let out desperate moans, each one fueling his desire. Alastor was completely captivated by her, his eyes filled with adoration. Julia kept her gaze locked on him as he moved inside her, their connection growing stronger with each thrust. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper. "Oh, my dearest, my love..." Alastor gasped, his hand guiding hers to her swollen belly. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she felt the undeniable proof of their passion. "Can you feel it, my dear? I'm buried so deep within you."

She squeezed tightly around him in response to his gentle words. The mere thought of Alastor being inside her caused the tension within her to unravel. "Please..." she cried out, her thighs shaking around Alastor's waist. Her plea weakened the last of Alastor's resistance. In a swift motion, his large hands slid under the back of her thighs, pulling them close to her chest. A sharp gasp escaped her as the position changed. From this new angle, Alastor delved even deeper, intensifying the heat in her lower belly. "Oh, my beloved Julia," His words made her walls quiver around him. She was on the brink of ecstasy. The pleasure Alastor was giving her was almost too much to handle. "Alastor, ah... I'm so close! Please, kiss me!" She begged as his hips moved against hers. The sound of his satisfied breath sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. Without hesitation, Alastor captured her lips in a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing together as the tension within her finally snapped. Alastor savoured every one of her moans as her body joyfully tightened around him.

Alastor trailed closely behind her; his release triggered by hers. The sensation of her warm, moist walls enveloping him, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from his being, left him feeling euphoric. His thrusts grew erratic before finally coming to a halt against her. A deep groan escaped his lips as his manhood throbbed within her depths. The sensation of being filled by him was nothing short of heavenly. Breaking away from their passionate kiss, Alastor struggled to catch his breath. His manhood remained nestled inside her as he gazed down at her with adoration. A wide smile spread across her face as she gently cupped his cheeks in her palms, tenderly caressing his face with her thumbs. "Alastor, that was... incredible," she said, her eyes filled with love. Alastor loosened his grip on her thighs, allowing her legs to rest against the bed. "You are truly perfect, my dear. I can never get enough of you!" His words caused her heart to flutter with pride. He treated her with such tenderness, and it made her feel cherished beyond measure.

Next: Chapter 7

#alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #fluff #domestic fluff #smut #domestic flu

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deathmimedream · 2 years ago

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The Murderdolls Muse Box:

The muses:

New:

Ghost/demon verse:

1. Zenead (Z, Zed, zen, zennie ) @alastors-radioshow Alastor’s water ghoul servant, usually the one sent on errands topside, he’s rather good at glamours, so it’s rare to see him wear the same disguise twice unless it’s a favorite.

Born albino to a small water ghoul tribe, they were all enslaved by Astaroth, later to become the band, hellraisers. Later, Zen was the only survivor of his family’s massacre at Astaroth’s hands.

Instead of horns in his unglamoured form, he has bone ridges along the sides of his head, and long, silky white hair, with gold-green eyes. Usually looking serious, it’s said his laughter sounds like rain striking a glass wind chime.

Though most ghouls are called by a name relative to an element, Zen has been named after a former priest who held blind loyalty to the demon prince. Zen has of late, become rather rebellious.

He once tended the water garden, his master’s meals, and was once the keyboardist for the Hellraiser’s band Astaroth was lead singer for.

Now he’s helping keep Al’s studio tidy, running errands, and anything else his new master requires of him.

He has hydromancy, and water manipulation, but it’s harder for him, as he’s adapted to his icy home. Ice is more his forte.

Zen’s photo at end of post

2. thanks to a mutual who got me into the Ghost project, I am adding another muse:

Papa Emeritus III (Terzo)

I’m hoping to do him justice. But you can still ask for him, just keep in mind I’m still getting through the lore. So forgive me a few mistakes as I ease into this new muse. I’m playing him as pre- and post death (alive via spell) so let me know which version you like when you request him. (Post death photo pictured)

3: Cardinal Copia/ Papa Emeritus IV.

Both versions available. Multiple timelines available. I shall do my best with trying my hand at this sweet little papa, who I have also fallen for. (I’m looking at you, @alastors-radioshow this is your fault! Lol)

4. Oracle (Quintessnce ghoul)

He’s a seer, summoned by Abbot Marcus Vitel, to a small, quiet abbey in Tuscany.

The abbot had wanted healer, to aid in caring for the local villagers (who had converted to worshiping Lucifer) when they became ill or injured.

Instead, he got a young, unstable seer.

Very unstable, it seemed.

He had visions, and they were helpful, but often vague, confusing, or sometimes eerily accurate.

All well and good, except the visions caused Oracle to pass out for their duration, and wake up with splitting migraines, some lasting days, and often a bloody nose or tears.

The visions appeared at irregular times, which meant Marcus was constantly at his ghoul’s side to make sure he wasn’t falling and hurting himself, or…after one incident, dropping out of a tree on someone either.

The lavender-haired ghoul tends to travel with his master, but tends to stray from public events.

Apparently too many humans around can trip a vision.

Aside from his foremost ability, Oracle can heal, not mental damage, but physical. He sadly, cannot heal himself of injury, however.

He can teleport, but longer distances can trigger a strong vision, and wears him out for some time.

His face bears three claw marks, from his left cheek to just over the bridge of his nose, and his right eye is missing. The marks were present upon summoning, he lost the eye when defending Marcus from an angry village outsider.

It was the only time Oracle had unglamoured of his own will in public.

Thankfully, the villagers were sympathetic, and saw Oracle as a ‘dark Angel ‘ sent by Lucifer to save Marcus from death.

Though Oracle has Marcus, he is the only ghoul at the small abbey, and still rather lonely.

(Oracle has recently discovered his beloved ‘father’, Marcus, has been Kit trafficking topside with kidnapped ghoul children. He would summon them and hand them to lesser clergy wanting ‘docile and naturally loyal’ ghouls. He’s pretty messed up over it)

#update! @iomadachd ‘s Cowbell has EATEN Marcus in one storyline.

Photo

5. :C A L I B E R : H Y D E:

A return of one of my oldest muses, remade for a new setting once more!

8’5” of impure, frightening muscle, claws, teeth, and power, he’s quite a mystery.

Is he some sort of Ghoul? A demon? A genetic mystery of humanity? All three?

He’s not one to talk much on it.

Despite his outer unglamoured appearance, Caliber is a very gentle giant, well, unless he has reason to be angry.

(He likes to cook, and comfort over fight, really)

He can utilize infernal magics easily, as well as the separate elements, but he’s best at fire, and Earth.

He’s well versed in combat of multiple styles, and no one is certain how old he is, but it’s rumored he appeared during the earliest years of the Church’s founding, and has ‘protected the faith when, and where needed’ for possibly centuries.

He hasn’t stayed in one place long, usually moving to where he is needed. To avoid trouble, he’s sometimes traveled with other clergy and pretended to be a ghoul, or actually clergy.

Other times he will vanish for decades, and be merely a fairy tale.

There’s as many rumors as stories about him too::

Other rumors include:

:He’s the child of Lucifer and a ghouleh he fancied several centuries ago.

: he was a ghoul summoned by the oldest papa of the church, and bound to the faith, rather than a single person

: he’s just a realllly fucking big, old as hell, ghoul

: he’s a tamed cryptid

: he IS Lucifer in disguise

:he’s a child of Lillith and a ghoul

:a fallen Angel

There’s sooo many. sometimes he will entertain himself and let you believe one or more are correct.

But he’s certainly not what you think.

Photo: glamoured, and unglamoured (add bat wings)

6: O M E G A

(I am once AGAIN blaming @alastors-radioshow for ANOTHER Ghost muse!)

Say hello to another gentle giant, Terzo’s most fan-lusted after Quintessence ghoul, Omega!

He’s sometimes overprotective of his papa, and worries a lot about him and his band mates.

Laid back, and gentle until you really upset him, Omega is sort of a big brother/protective surrogate dad type to both Terzo, and the other ghouls.

He just wants everyone safe and happy, yeah?

Holy shit there’s more!

7: Cinque

8: Lucifer Morningstar

9: Viencenzio Camilo Imperator

10, 11, and 12: coffeshop random ghouls:

13: Cardinal Shoia:

::::14,15,1617:::

I am adding:

Swisstopher (Copia’s wild and crazy multighoul)

Rain (Copia’s sweet and gentle water ghoul)

Mountain: (Copia’s earth ghoul, the sweetest and kindest of giants)

Cumulus: (Copia’s Air ghoulette, everyone’s big sister and den mama)

::: HAZBIN HOTEL::::

Remington Lafayette: male. A stag style demon with stunted bat wings, one antler is broken, the other a double spike. albino and rarely speaks. He’s petite and frail, looking closer to 15, when he’s actually about 19. Part of a cult that worshipped Alastor, killed running from an angry mob with tracking dogs. He’s ACE, and will not do anything except platonic.

::Multiveresal::

1. Dream.

A childlike redhead with milk pale skin, ears hidden in his hair, and tail rarely seen. His usual attire is a motley of teal, green, purple and black for his midnight circus performance clothing. Chirps, purrs, and trills like a vocal Maine coon, But often talks in third person. Human speech isn’t his native language. He’s light on his feet, and an aerialist, seemingly sweetly innocent.

He’s been occasionally been noticed devouring people in a feral, brutal manner, but often will avoid most people stronger than himself.

Dream is mainly Hazbin, but like the rest of the hellish midnight Circus, is multiverse.

2. Arkady Villisonne

A tall,slim figure in dashing attire that resembles a gothic ringmaster of sorts.

Hair to his waist, white as snow and eyes like black pits in his head, his abilities as a demon make all but another demon see him as their ideal partner.

Be it in love, or crime, he’s always just what you’re looking for.

Often mistaken for a mere vampire, Arkady is in fact an incubus, hence the visual representation he portrays to most. But! He’s ACE. No interest in sexual relations at all.

Years of research and hard work have made him able to chose when and where the circus travels, but it cost him his wings and horns. His tail is usually hidden, wrapped around his waist, and he controls the veil of magic protecting his circus.

If he realllly likes you, you’ll never leave the grounds.

3. Bacardi:

Another incubus, this one with rainbow hair, and all the charm his sibling, Arkady lacks.

He dresses mainly like a fairy tale Prince, and is the circus sword swallower, and knife thrower.

His performance gear makes him look less princely and more like an androgynous masked Venetian jester.

He’s actually big on consent, forming relationships prior to romance, and very much a Prince Charming.

Photos:

two of Zenead(albino water ghoul) Tiny little Remi! (Hazbin mini deer demon with wings)

#alastors-radioshow #iomadachd #new babies!

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shootinwebs · 8 months ago

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Even more of my HC about how exactly Alastor and Vox's friendship ended:

( Content Warnings: sexual abuse implied, Valentino & Angel Dust )

( Also based on someone else's headcanon I saw about how people in Hell can see someone as their human form if they love them -- but I expanded it so it includes people they trust completely: anyone who makes Hell feel less like eternal flaming damnation. )

Alastor had started noticing a change in Vox after Valentino entered the picture. Vox started to become rude, dismissive, cagey. He no longer made Alastor laugh like he usually did.

Alastor has had plenty of his own experiences with abusers, so he knows how to spot them. He started noticing very early on that Val was misogynistic, selfish, and had absolutely no respect for boundaries.

He heard crying from Valentino's room one night. A high voice. And Val's voice yelling in response.

"Why the fuck are you crying!?"

"...You're scaring me..."

Alastor continued to listen, but there weren't anymore distinct words after that, just footsteps, more crying, and other non-words. Alastor left when he heard the footsteps drawing closer to the door.

He searched Val's room the next chance he got. He couldn't find much, except for a contract giving Val ownership of a soul named Anthony Avelletti. But the fine print didn't say anything that gave proof of abuse, or that Vox was in on it.

It all came together when Alastor found a prototype of a product Vox's company was working on, invented by Val. The paperwork had Vox's signature on it. It was called "Love Potion."

Alastor didn't like the implications of the name combined with the behavior he'd observed from Valentino. But all of the company's paperwork on upcoming projects had coding on it so the information could only be accessed if one knew how to use a computer. Alastor did not.

He still wanted to believe so badly in Vox; that his concerns were unfounded. Vox still appeared to him as a human.

So Alastor stole one of the test vials and went to his room to try it on himself out of desperation.

His fears manifested within minutes of ingesting it: nausea, blurred vision, loss of coordination, trouble moving, confusion.

No doubt about it. It was a date rape drug.

The next day when the effects had worn off, Alastor didn't want to leave his room. He was devastated. But he knew he had to get away from Vox and Valentino as soon as he could.

He told Vox, "We need to talk."

Genuinely, Vox was concerned. Not that Alastor disagreed with his business, but Alastor had seemed sad and distant lately.

"I found the Love Potion project. I know you signed it and intend to profit from it. I can't be part of your life anymore."

Vox pretended to be none the wiser.

So Alastor said, "You disgust me," and their final real conversation ensued, about heartbreak (in my original post above).

Alastor couldn't see Vox's human form anymore. A bright red light hurt his eyes, and the lights in the room flickered until they broke, filling the room with darkness aside from the blinding red.

As Alastor's eyes adjusted, he noticed it was a screen where Vox's head used to be, and Alastor saw images flashing on it of Val's disgusting actions, and of Vox shaking hands with him. But Vox was not showing these images voluntarily; the devastating break of trust caused Vox's demon form to appear much more frightening to Alastor than how demon Vox usually looked.

They got into a physical fight, Alastor striking first. Vox didn't want to hurt him, so he didn't fight with a lot of strength, and thus he was injured far worse and lost.

All the while, Alastor still appeared human to Vox. It wasn't until Alastor resurfaced after seven years that Vox saw him as a demon.

After the fight, Alastor went to see Rosie. On the way there, he retained his proud posture and overall image of composure. But once he was alone with her, he broke down and cried. He felt used; that Vox had never really considered him a friend, just a warm body to take up space and praise his ideas until he found someone who could help line his pockets.

***

Angel and Alastor live in the same hallway at the hotel. Alastor passed by Angel's room one night and heard him crying.

It dawned on him. Unmistakably, this was the same voice he'd heard in Val's room that night over seven years ago. That heartbreaking, desperate, hopeless crying.

If Alastor could go back in time, he would kill Val and Vox in a heartbeat.

( Spoilers: Hazbin Hotel S1:E2, E4, E8 )

(Thinking about that one scene in Killing Eve that goes "Don't break my heart." "Don't break mine.")

I like to imagine Vox and Alastor were good friends, who genuinely cared about each other and added light to each other's lives.

And then Vox started to become worse and worse of a person -- to the point where he teamed up with someone like Valentino. Someone whose principles severely cross a line with Alastor. Vox is not only complicit with Valentino's abusive and exploitative endeavors, he condones it and makes money from it.

One day, Alastor finally told Vox, "You disgust me."

Vox was genuinely upset and responded, "You're breaking my heart."

Alastor's last direct words to him were, "You already broke mine."

#headcanon #alastor hazbin #vox hazbin #angel dust #hazbin hotel

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palettepainter · 4 years ago

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for your ocs that are parents,who is most likely to freak out when they lose sight of their babies? (also hope you are doing well!)

Thanks! Mentally I’m not the best but asks like these let me think about funny stuff with OC’s so they make me feel a little better! Again I’ll just write a few for each of the randoms I’m in. I won’t be limiting this to OC’s as in MHA I have a few cannon x OC ships

Zoophobia:

-Zill and Kayla where both pretty paranoid parents. Zillia and Danial both inherited Zill’s powers, they where both already cautious when their kids where born so when their abilities kicked in things went from 0 to 100. Zillia as a child was very very good at climbing up things, but not so much when it came to climbing down. Zill spent most of his time rescuing Zillia from trees she’d gotten stuck in.

-Carrie didn’t take comments on caring for kids all that seriously, she’d raised a hell horse, how hard could one kid be?? Oh ho how wrong she was. When Carrie eventually adopted Cooper it was a real kick in the gut, she didn’t worry per say all the time but she did have her scares when she’d turn her back for all of three seconds, and then Cooper was gone

-Camilla and Snake. Camilla was the more fretting parent, more so when Coal came into the picture. Raising one littel boy was hard enough, now she had another little boy - ontop of that being a vampire - to raise. Things got pretty chaotic in the house. Thankfully Snake was a more strict parent and was able to get Basil and Coal to calm down quickly

Hazbin Hotel:

-Baxter was a nervous first time dad. Nifty was way more chill but Baxter was trying to baby proof like, everything. Like with Carrie having a kid was a real kick in the gut, all of a sudden he couldn’t have his dangerous lab equipment just laying around, he couldn’t let angel leave any weapons or let Alastor leave any voo-doo stuff laying about. Baxter eventually chills out but it took a lot of reassurance from Nifty

-Vaggie is naturally protective of friends, so that amped up when Iridescence was born. It didn’t help that she though Angel was a still very irresponsible, so despite the two not being married Vaggie did most of the actual parenting while Angel took the role of the fun loving father. Vaggie decided once day enough was enough and took Angel aside to slap some sense into him. It was a long process and Angel was bad at first, but soon enough the two are getting along and are raising Iridescence together

-Charlie. Giant. Fretting. Hen. The kind of mum to freak out when her kids have wondered off without her or are out longer then she said they could be. In my NGAU Charlie is a bit more mature and knowledgeable in that Hell is..well, Hell. She isn’t all sunshine happiness and rainbows like she is in the pilot, she’s matured and understands some people just sadly don’t want to change. She tries to be a fair mum and let Brinda and Junior have their freedom while also keeping them on a sharp leash for their own safety

Helluva boss:

-Only got Millie x Mooxie for now, maaay do a Vortex x Loona kiddo but don’t know yet. Moxxie. No questions asked. He is the worrying yet loving dad. In my NGAU I headcannon Mooxie can’t have kids, hence why he ends up being so dotting to ones he meets. Crash and Dash are either going to be adopted, or they get a donor. Crash and Dash are such asshats that do the most craziest stuff, Moxxie might have had a heart attack once or twice when the two first tried out skateboarding. Millie encourages Moxxie that they’re fine (and then reassured Moxxie again that they weren’t going to die from a small itty bitty scratch). Crash and Dash being their first kids Moxxie was naturally paranoid so obvs went a bit overboard at times, he chilled out a bit when they adopted Lucy, and is also thankful Lucy is a way more calm child then Crash and Dash

MHA:

-Erasermic: Alright hear me out. Aizawa is the more worrying parent. Like- this man’s gotta deal with a class of twenty something problem children, Shinsou, Eri and Mic (in my NGAU he and Mic adopt Shinsou and Eri, and Aizawa more often then not has to parent Mic to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid). This man worries, but is very good at hiding it. Mic and Aizawa have Joke labour their daughter, Kiku tended to wonder a bit when she was younger - mostly cuz she would see a cat and follow it not realizing she wondered out of her parents sight. Aizawa goes to look down to see if she’s still with him, child's gone, BOOM: Panic! With what Aizawa’s seen (with the USJ incident, training camp incident, rescuing Eri, and just everything else that’s happening in MHA right now) Aizawa knows the dangers of the world so he comes off as a biiit overprotective. Even when Kiku is 13 (her current age in my NGAU) Aizawa still watches over her to make sure she’s safe. He becomes less stressed by training with her, knowing she can defend herself if needed eases his worries a little

-Edgeshot x Ryukyu: Both are chill parents, Based on @erosspace headcannons Edgeshot lives far off from the city for privacy reasons. He and Ryukyu like the peace. Kakusu grew up very safe as a child and didn’t wonder off at all, generally a well behaved kid. However the day his quirk kicked in was the day his parents got a real fright. Kakusu’s quirk is camouflage, and when it first activated he unintentionally disappeared from his parents sight. He was meditating in the garden and because he was calm and relaxed his quirk activated for the first time, his parents turned the house upside down and where just about to call the police, when they searched outside and saw Kakusu. Kakusu’s quirk only works on his skin, so if he activates his clothes while dressed in normal clothes his clothes will give away where he is because they aren’t affected by his quirk. When Kakusu started to use his camouflage quirk to hide from taking a bath Edgeshot and Ryukyu made him wear an ankle bracelet with bells on it so they could always tell where he was

-Ectoloader: I am a firm believer that Powerloader worries a lot. He has to deal with Hatsume exploding his lab on a daily basis, this man probably developed some secret power to know when something bad is gonna happen so he is just prepared for anything. I also headcannon he knew Ectoplasm in his school days and was a huge supportive figure for Ecto when he lost his legs, so that event has also lead to him becoming very worried if family or friends get injured. Haiya is a hyperactive child 90% of the time, if he isn’t running around he’s sleeping or doing school work, theres no in-between. Ectoplasm is a stern yet chill parent, he put down the rules when needed but he still lets Haiya have fun. Powerloader tends to be a bit stricter with rules and can sometimes come off an harsh without realising, he’s so used to having to yell at Hatsume just to knock some sense into her that sometimes he can get carried away

#Ectoloader #Erasermic #Edgeshot x Ryukyu #Mooxie x Millie #Baxter x Nifty #Vaggie x Angel #Zill x Kayla #MHA #BNHA #Hazbin hotel #Helluva Boss #Zoophobia

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paper-stars-and-fireflies · 4 years ago

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Tell me, should I let you go?

Tags: RadioDust, Trans!Angel Warnings: Drug Use, Addiction Fic was inspired by the song Sober by Bad Wolves. Listen while you read! Angel Dust woke up in his bathtub, again. His neck hurt from being bent forward overnight, and his back and joints all ached from the cramped spaces and unnatural angles. At least the cool tile felt nice. Dizziness washed over him as he tipped his head back, trying to right his world, and soon after he was scrambling for the toilet, dry heaves wracking his frame. He spit, if just to relieve the nausea, and settled back against the wall, one arm feebly reaching for the vanity. There was a snuffling and scraping sound and all of a sudden Angel’s lap was full of pig, his pet bounding back and forth across him, desperate for attention.

“Be easy on daddy, now,” Angel moaned, scooping up the pig and cradling him. The nausea was ebbing slightly, but not enough. He turned his head, coughing and hacking into the toilet again. Just holding Fat Nuggets felt like too much, but Angel managed to claw and stumble his way to his feet. His reflection looked worse than he felt, mascara and eyeliner dripping down his cheeks and his eyes red around the edges. His throat felt scratchy and a fresh wave of dizziness had him stumbling forward into the sink. “Saint’s sake, am I still drunk?” he mumbled, fumbling for his toothbrush. His mouth tasted like sugar and stomach acid, and it took him twice as long to get himself looking presentable, crumbled clothes aside. The dizziness and nausea had more or less left him to fester, but the lights felt too bright and a migraine had settled behind his left eye. He matched his steps to the slow pulse of his head, wobbling around his room as he unceremoniously stripped out of yesterday’s clothes and pulled on a fresh shirt and shorts. He had no plans to go out, so he didn’t bother getting too dolled up. He checked his phone, but there were no messages, not from work, not from his family, not even from Alastor. Probably for the best, even though he was craving a few sweet words this morning. Better to lay low and not let anyone realize how he was. There were empty bottles and plastic cups, and evidence of the fun that was wreaking so much havoc on him this morning scattered around the room. He cleaned it all up, burying it in his trash so no one would find it later. He should feel ashamed, maybe, drinking, smoking, maybe even popping a pill or two, but it wasn’t such a big deal. Just a couple drinks, a smoke, a couple pills. No one had to know, and he’d been so good. They had to give him that. This was just one of those, whaddaya call’em? Cheat days. It was just a lil treat. One time thing. He placated himself, shoving off the bits of shame and regret crawling under his skin. Angel settled into his bed, Fat Nuggets happily curled up against him, grumbling as he thumbed through the TV channels. It made his head hurt that much more, but frankly he’d take that over the silence, in the room or in his head. He scratched idly at the inside of his arm, only glancing down when he realized he’d picked at a scab. A very new one. He swore, tearing tissues out of their box, knocking over everything else on the nightstand. Angel dabbed at the tiny wound, peering closer. It was definitely a needle mark, and not the only one. He yanked down on the sleeve of his shirt, casting furtive glances around his room. It was fine, it was okay. It would be gone in a couple hours, a day top. It was tiny. No one had to know he hadn’t just fallen off the wagon, that he’d jumped headfirst. It was fine. He just had to stay home, lay low one day, be extra careful from here on. He crouched by the bed, picking up the things he’d knocked over. A couple framed pictures of his friends, another of him and Alastor dressed up in silly Valentine’s themed costumes. They’d thrown a party back in February for his six months sober celebration. There was a lopsided stuffed deer, a prize Al had won for him at Hell’s carnival, back on one of their early dates. When Fat Nuggets had torn it up one night, Al had hushed him, stitching it up and adding a few personal touches, showing him anything could be repaired. He set everything back up neatly. No biggie. This was something else that could be fixed. No big deal. Definitely not, until there was a knock at his door. “Angel? You okay?” Charlie’s innocent voice was the last thing he wanted to hear, but he heaved himself onto his feet and stumbled to the door as fast as he could manage, leaning against it to hold it shut. “Just peachy, dollface. Ya need something?” he called through the door, making sure all the locks were on. He pushed the chain lock all the way across, quieting the metal with his fingertips. “You’re late for your check-in session, I was making sure you were up.” “Check-in?” “Did you forget? Today’s the 5th, you were supposed to meet me downstairs an hour ago.” Charlie’s voice was picking up a suspicious edge he didn’t like. Of course today would be a check in. How had he forgotten that? He was so careful, making sure he’d clear his appointments so he could live pretty freely under the radar. “Sorry doll, I, uh, just over-slept. Stayed up too late….watching too many movies!” He bit at his lip, not buying his own excuses. Clearly, she wasn’t either. “Angel, let me in. I want to make sure you’re okay.” She insisted. Angel huffed, putting on his usual demeanor. It wasn’t like he didn’t have practice faking it. The door swung open abruptly, revealing Angel in his t-shirt and sports shorts, a button down shirt only partially blocking out the pride pun printed on his shirt in pastel colors. The sleeves hung down to half-way down his forearms, carefully folded. Charlie studied him, suspicion and confusion warring across her face. “Something wrong, doll? I was in the middle a somethin.” He tried to hurry her along, one arm braced against the door frame. The injured arm was tucked against his back, the elbow carefully hidden with the cuff. “I’ve just never seen you dressed like that.” Charlie finally admitted, staring at his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the shirt looked wrong on him. Finally, she smiled, pointing at it. “I like your shirt. It’s good to cope through positive humor.” Angel glanced down. ‘The first gender’s free,’ the pink text read. ‘Too bad I needed a refund’, the white and blue text finished. He laughed with her, but it felt stuck in his throat. He could feel sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “So look, can we reschedule the uh, check-in, doll?” He tried to keep his voice steady, his smile wide. Charlie waved one hand, still giggling. “Sure, sure,” she called, turning away. “I’ll see you after lunch then, my office. Bye Angel!” Oh sugar honey. Angel bit his lip, keeping his internal screams to himself, willing himself to shut the door calmly and muffle his impending break-down in a pillow. By two in the afternoon, Angel had scrubbed himself head to toe, made sure his makeup was flawless, perfumed, eaten, drank, anything and everything to beat back last night’s demons and act the part of the perfectly adapted, normal, and completely clean Angel Dust he’d been becoming the last eight or so months. ‘Just one quick meeting, no big deal,’ he kept reminding himself. He sauntered into Charlie’s office, plopping down into the chair opposite her desk, checking his nails to keep up his bored act. The marks on his arm were all but gone now, but there were still a few nagging symptoms of a come down he hadn’t quite chased off yet. Charlie shut the door behind him, part of her pledge to privacy, and sat across from him, separated by a massive wood desk that was definitely made for one of her parents. She just looked tiny, sitting behind it. “Okay! So, we are… just shy of one year! How are you feeling today?” Charlie consulted her paperwork, searching around for her pen as she spoke. It was the one she’d taken from Katie Killjoy, way back at the hotel’s launch. “Same ol’, bored as hell, but doin’ my best. Clean, nice, and well-adjusted.” Angel ticked off on his fingers, reciting the three goals Charlie pushed all of her patrons towards. She hummed, clicking the pen a few times before she began to take notes. She probed at him with the usual list of questions, asking about his recent activities, work, friends, mood, and how he was coping and feeling about each of the problems he’d mentioned in previous meetings. He could see she’d drawn his shirt in the margins. ‘Piece. Of. Cake.’ he congratulated himself, standing up and starting to excuse himself. He’d made it through the full hour without a single slip up. “Sit back down, Angel.” Charlie scolded, setting her page down flat. She dropped the pen, eyeing the chair when he didn’t. He sighed, plunking back down. “What’s up, boss?” He asked, arms crossed. Charlie reached over the desk, yanking his sleeve up before he could stop her. “I knew it.” she hissed, sitting back in her chair, hands wrapped around her elbows, arms pressing flat against her ribs. “Angel, you’re not even close to clean.” “What! That’s playing dirty! I am! Well, I was. Definitely was! I was being a super good boy, but then, I dunno, something happened, and then I guess I made a mistake last night, and then I guess, I dunno. A lot happened last night, an’ I don’t remember none of it, but I swear! I was clean until yesterday! I’ll get it back!” He wasn’t being completely truthful, he’d been sneaking drinks and hits of whatever coworkers had on hand while he was at work, but he definitely couldn’t tell her that, and he really had been cutting back… Why couldn’t he remember last night? “Angel, you’ve come to check-ins still stoned before, just… stop.” Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose, blowing out a breath. “Last night, Alastor brought you home from Val’s. You were a huge wreck. He took you upstairs, but you started screaming at us and locked yourself in your room.” She paused, looking up at him, willing him to say something, but Angel, for once, had nothing. “Have you ever told me the truth?” Charlie sighed, pushing herself to her feet. She circled the desk, opening the door with a resigned, defeated look. Angel frowned, knowing he was the cause, but not how to fix it. Getting high at work wasn’t surprising, but to get totally wrecked wasn’t right. Angel shuffled, thinking he was being dismissed, but what happened next was so much worse. Alastor walked in, face blank and perfectly schooled into place. Charlie retook her seat, gesturing to the open chair beside Angel. Al took it, not looking at him. He just stared straight ahead, completely zoned out. “Angel, you were already on your last warning before this. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Charlie tried again. Angel opened his mouth, starting over with what he’d already tried, but it fell on deaf ears. Neither Charlie or Alastor so much as twitched as he tried spinning line after line, trying for pity, sympathy, humor, anything. When she couldn’t take anymore, Charlie shook her head, scribbling away on a sheet of paper. Angel couldn’t make out the words, no matter how desperately he wanted to. It felt like his whole head was throbbing and the room was spinning. How hot was it in here anyway? He shoved his sleeves up, already caught out. It was hard to catch his breath, he slumped forward, tempted to put his head between his knees. Were his ears ringing, or was that Al’s static? “Angel,” Charlie said, clearly not for the first time. Concern was leaking into her voice, and he fished himself back out, sitting up, head lolling to one side. Al stayed silent, not offering a hand, a word, even a tune. He had never felt so alone in a room full of people who were supposed to care about him. So much for that. “Angel, I have to evict you.” She said finally, sliding the page over to him. “You have to sign this.” It wasn’t possible to hold back the tears dripping down his face, and just as impossible to figure out why he couldn’t stop. Who cared about the dumb hotel. He had any number of places he could go. Molly had a spare room, if he wanted to go back to the mob. Cherri had a couch, and he’d already thrown his lot in with hers for turf wars. Hell, even Val would take him back and let him live in a studio if he did more videos. Screw the Hotel! Angel growled, throwing his things into duffel bags, ripping his posters off the wall, slamming the drawers closed after emptying them. Fat Nuggets hid under his bed, snuffling sadly, but he didn’t have it in him to apologize yet, even if the pig was innocent. Sometimes he just had to stay angry. “I would think you wouldn’t want to destroy your own possessions, darling.” Alastor spoke softly from the open doorway, looking around slowly. Angel pouted, looking more pathetic than mad, but he didn’t care. He didn’t notice when Al had gotten there, but it didn’t matter. “I don’t possess anything. Anything that’s mine gets broke or taken away.” He said pointedly, snatching the pictures off his nightstand. He inspected them, finally dumping them in the wastebasket by the vanity. Alastor blinked, his radio noise some garbled music that was probably supposed to calm his nerves, but they just grated on them more. Angel did his best to ignore him, storming around the room, packing away every possible hint he’d spent a moment in the room. Finally his last nerve snapped, worn thin by his unhelpful, intrusive, cold boyfriend. He snatched the deer plush off his nightstand, the last thing left unpacked, and hurled it at the Radio Demon’s chest. There was sharp feedback as it struck him, like a microphone dropping or a headset being plugged in. “Would you just get out of here!” He screamed, voice shattering. Alastor looked passively at him, picking up the doll slowly, smoothing its short fur. “Very well. I will wait for you in the foyer, if you prefer.” Alastor turned, still cradling the deer. “Would you prefer I take Fat Nuggets, or can you manage, love?” His trademark smile drooped, dipping into something smaller, sadder, but sincere, broken-hearted love in an instant. Angel sniffled, dragging his arm across his face. Saints’ sake, his makeup was wrecked all over again. “Whaddaya talkin’ about?” Angel choked out, grabbing for more tissues. Alastor set the doll down on the bed, coming closer. Angel let him into arm’s reach, but he wasn’t ready to be touched just yet. “I’m waiting on you, my dear.” Alastor repeated, gesturing to Angel’s bags. “What for? Ain’t ya done with me for bein’a a dirty wh-” Angel was cut off with a harsh look from Alastor, contempt and scorn he rarely wore. “You’re nothing of the sort. I discussed this very carefully with Charlie last night, I’m very sorry we did not make ourselves clearer.” Alastor fetched the pictures from the wastebasket and looked at them, keeping his hands busy. “You ain’t breakin’ up wit me?” Angel asked again, eyes wide. But he was sure that Al had been so cold because… “Never, my love. I would never abandon you over something so trivial.” Alastor set the pictures aside, finally lifted his hands, cupping the spider’s face gently. His gloved thumbs cleared away the last of his love’s tears. “But you were so….dead?” Angel tried, sniffling again. “I was so worried about you, darling, I was beside myself. I stayed with you all night, and spoke with Charlie once I was sure you were quite alright by yourself.” “So Charlie is kicking me out -” “You’ll be moving in with me, my love.” Alastor spoke softly, eyes downcast. He drew Angel in closer, pulling him to his chest. “Charlie agreed it would be better for you, but to keep it quiet. If that’s not what you want, then-” “No! No, no no, I, Al, I want that, I just. I don’t get it.” Angel sighed, resting his weary head on Al’s shoulder, four arms wrapped loosely around him. He knew not to hold too tight, or else Al got squirrely. Al drew back, but only slightly. He pressed his forehead to Angel’s, his ears and horns tangling gently with Angel’s hair. “Addiction is difficult, and it can only be fought with attention and support, not alone, isolated in a hotel room. I’d like to give you that, if you’ll have me.” There was hope, love, faith, and trust in Alastor’s voice, everything Angel had ever wanted, truly wanted, the things he’d tried so long to replace with the high, trying to stuff his feelings with drugs. “I’m never going to let you go.” Angel answered, new tears prickling at his eyes. “Let’s go home, my darling.”

#radiodust #Trans!Angel Dust

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smiling-cervidae · 6 months ago

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"Oh, come now, like I said, no harm, no foul. At the very least, it did give me the opportunity to finally tear into that distasteful, mange-ridden flea," Alastor manages to chuckle, despite the fact that he did suffer harm. Of course, he had always found Valentino distasteful simply due to his work, and this just validates his immediate dislike of the porn overlord. "Sigh... A pity. I thought Vox would remain my most trusted companion. What a foolish thought that was." So he was... friends with Vox, at one point. I mean, there is a picture with them together ripped apart in the finale, so...

He humans contemplatively, almost as though trying to deduce whether being injured should quell what he feels is his responsibility. After a moment, he nods. "Very well then. I do hope you still like what I have managed to gift you this year. Perhaps another day, I can rehash something better," he suggests, almost to himself at this point. After all, he knows Husk is satisfied, but he isn't. He's from New Orleans, after all, and those people can party. "I dare say you've got this old deer melting~!" he jokes, laughing a little at his own joke. I mean... we do know he thinks he's a "big fuckin' riot"-

Event: The cat's Birthday

Husk stood to look at a calendar, it was that day of the year again, he sighed and soon kept walking going to his bar in the hotel to stand there as he usually does.

Fixing a few of the bottles on the shelf before he stared off into the distance, he didn't really care too much about his birthday anymore when he was this old but maybe he could still have a good day.

@smiling-cervidae @slutty-spider-polka-pop @walking-in-a-spider-web @hells-ringleader @unknown-ultimates @anyone else (was supposed to be out on 4th May but mod was busy so here's a late event)

#〔 alastor — 🦌 〕#【 🍸 interaction — husk 】

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hh-sweetashoney · 5 years ago

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Snippet from Ch. 6 of Nothing Sweeter

Y’all can have little a spoilers, as a treat:

Now that the constant state of panic you were in has subsided, your eyes start to wander. The scarring you’d vaguely noticed on Alastor before is substantial. Most of his torso is marred with slashes and the occasional burn mark, but what really draws your eye are the large bite marks and ragged tears. The markings almost resemble an animal mauling. Actually, the more you look at him the more it obviously looks like he was torn into by some kind of canine. Maybe more than one, even.

Next to you Alastor stiffens when he sees where your gaze has settled. You decide not to push. Instead you tilt your head to indicate the distinctly different set of scars; clean, sharp, some looking almost intentional.

“What’s that from?”

You wouldn’t go so far as to describe him as relieved, but Alastor’s shoulders drop slightly as he answers, buttoning his shirt back up.

“Like I said, sweetheart. Power comes at a cost. And I’ve made myself very, very powerful.”

His smile is wild and sharp. There’s that self-assured pride rearing its head again. It suits him. The moment is lost as he sways slightly in place.

You sigh, then glare as he pretends staunchly that it didn’t happen.

“Stubborn as a mule,” you mutter, tugging at his sleeve.

“Hypocrite,” he chimes, letting you pull him slightly then stopping. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you to lay down.”

“I’m fine.” His voice is clipped.

“Yeah well maybe I just want to pet your hair, did you think of that?”

(You will pretend to have said that on purpose. You’re couching your selfless request for him to chill the fuck out in selfish motivations. Obviously. Fuck.)

“Excuse me?” He lurches sideways out of your grip, but you snatch at his injured hand. He stops with a gritted hiss of static.

“Quit being so difficult! Besides, you owe me right now.”

Alastor sputters, outraged.

“We made a deal,” he says, tone ominous.

“Not for that-” his expression shifts, confused, “-I mean when you bit me!”

He looks incredulous. “You’re the one who offered!”

“Yeah, well- you’re the one who made it necessary!”

“You bit me too-”

“-You mean I bit you back,”

“You stabbed me!”

“You’re welcome.”

He stares at you, seemingly at a loss. You take the opportunity to pull him forward again. He lets you this time, limbs loose with mild shock.

After a brief and awkward round of limb-placement negotiations that have you taking an elbow to the face twice (the second time was not an accident, damn it), Alastor ends up stretched out on the couch, his head on your lap.

“Never bring this up again,” he tells you.

You don’t answer, hand hovering above his fluffy hair.

“Honey? Agree, right now.”

“Only if I can pet your hair.”

He shuts you down instantly.

“Not a chance.”

“That’s fine! Guess I’ll send this pic to Angel, then. He’ll probably have some fun things to say about it.” You hold up your phone, where the full screen is taken up by a slightly blurry image you’d gotten while he was busy making a nuisance of himself.

His eyes narrow as a tendril of shadow whips out from under the couch and smacks it out of your hand. You hear it land out of sight with a sharp crunch as it thuds against the hallway floor. There’s no way your shitty hell-quality screen survived that.

“...”

“You owe me twice now.”

“You get one minute,” he says, relenting.

“Five.”

“One.”

“Five and I’ll delete the picture.” You’re banking on Alastor being too technologically illiterate to realize how unlikely it is you’ll salvage anything at all from that phone. It pays off; after a brief silent standoff he huffs, throwing his head back so that his antlers smack painfully into your sternum. Asshole.

“Fine. And you’ll never speak of this again.”

#enjoy some out of context bickering #I'll probably be posting the scene title list soon as I start in on the final round of editing #hhnothingsweeter #hazbin hotel #hh #chapter snippet #hazbin hotel oc

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whoisleft-rp · 4 years ago

Photo

Gathered around a worn wooden table by day-to-day commander Alastor Moody, the core members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered this weekend under the cover of nightfall to discuss current progress, intel and missions.

Public Knowledge

Still unnamed by the papers or Ministry officials, the Order of the Phoenix—known publicly as the “vigilantes”—continue to be a high priority target for the Ministry, who has publicly disavowed the group and their rogue actions.

Known to All Order Members

TARGET IDENTIFICATION: Once only a thin folder that rarely left Moody’s desk, there is now a web of photographs and documents connected by—well, not red string, but a very similar, magical equivalent—on the walls of one Order HQ meeting room. The Order’s leaders are welcoming all members to contribute their own knowledge and educated guesses to try and round out the network of Death Eater involvements: whether they’re people actively involved or who may just know more than they’re letting on. (There is also a column for ‘definitely out of the loop’ which currently features only one picture, clipped from the Daily Prophet’s politics section: a beaming Sebastian Nott, who has been deemed (fondly, by some) too naive to know anything more than what he said when he disavowed his father post-arrest.)

UNDERCOVER WORK: Gretchen Ollivander was recently absent for a week of meetings, gone on an undercover mission to try and find an inroad to contact a centaur settlement in Ireland’s Bonny Glen Wood. She arrived back at headquarters triumphant about her success and with a renewed interest in recruiting Order members, both old and new, to her undercover unit.

POTENTIAL ATTACKS: The Order of the Phoenix’s intelligence pipelines have been quiet lately...almost suspiciously quiet. It makes sense to consider that the Death Eaters are taking time both to recruit the newest to their ranks and lay low following the public arrest of Asher Nott, but the period of relative calm is making Alastor Moody more paranoid and restless than usual.

SPELLWORK & INTELLIGENCE: On the most recent missions and patrols where contact with Death Eaters WAS made, Order members have found themselves injured by unique spells – potentially custom-made. The Order’s usually less-hectic research and development unit is now feeling pressure to both figure out the countercurses to these unnamable spells, and to develop new defensive and offensive spellwork of their own to right the tide.

DUELING: Hard-skill training has slowed down slightly in the lead-up to the intense Barns training camp, just on the horizon. However, Daniyah Burke and Gretchen Ollivander are teaming up to host a series of dueling workshops at the Barns in order to polish skills, weaken defenses and ensure cohesive dueling practices.

Classified Information

The Order is aware of the upcoming Society For The Upkeep Of Wizarding Historical Artifacts auction and, thanks to some sleuthing by Vince Sinclair into the organization’s sketchy tax-and-finance history and the experience-led hunches by Sirius Black, the Order is (as they often are) suspicious.

Vince Sinclair has been appointed to get a press pass for the event—avoiding catching the attention of anyone from the planning team who might know of him in the process, not an easy feat—and is planning to attend and poke around the auction to see if the artifacts bear more than meets the eye.

#whoisleftevent

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jackalau · 6 years ago

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04. MIGHT FOR RIGHT

albus dumbledore, long hailed “the last hope” for wizarding europe, dueled his former friend- to a draw. gravely injured and unable to return to his post at hogwarts, he withdrew from wizarding society as a whole. whispers grew into outcry quickly in his absence- were the injuries more grave than the public had been led to believe? was he too ashamed to show his face? had he abandoned them?

all but unaware of these rising concerns, dumbledore finds himself properly outside the protective bubble of hogwarts for the first time in decades- and begins to consider just what is at stake. with perhaps the entirety of the wizarding world at risk of folding to grindelwald and his forces, and feeling no lack of personal responsibility for this movement, he decides to act in secret. finally he sees the need for a safety net.

that comes in the form of the round table. a group of albus dumbledore's most trusted and respected friends, these people are united under one ideal: in a war such as this, to be neutral is to be on the side of the enemy. it is with these sentiments that he begins to build his own group of loyal supporters.

grindelwald’s philosophy -that of those who hold the power creating the narrative- served as the inspiration for this secret society's name. in true Arthurian fashion, their mission statement draws on chivalry; the strong should at all costs protect the weak, wherever possible - and that, they think, should extend to every muggle and muggleborn suffering under grindelwald's revolution. risking azkaban for even the discussion of interfering in the war in europe, these carefully-chosen few begin to plan direct strikes.

beneath the cut, you’ll find involved parties. remember that all faceclaims pictured are flexible!

albus dumbledore - leader

there is nobody alive who can call into question the many accomplishments of their leader. recently having avoided a public call for him to stand for minister for magic, he is, although mysterious about his past and motivations, a natural born leader. he has a natural magnetism and a formidable skill at duelling- although this, of course, was recently tested. after he was unable to defeat grindelwald, he decided he could not operate alone, and has been drawing those who can be used for the other greater good close to him for the inevitable battle. pictured fc - aiden shaw

alastor moody - duellist

a young upstart from the auror office, alastor was drawn into the circle for his reputation for uncompromising dedication towards putting dark wizards and witches down. he is known for his single-minded obsession with bringing the world into line with his moral code, and was glad to join forces with like-minded others to this point. a gifted young wizard, he came to albus’ attention in hogwarts, where he was one of his favourite students. pictured fc - george mackay

caradoc dearborn - protection

the charming, smiling face of charms. caradoc is gifted with transportation and protection charms; he divides his time between developing new trinkets and spells to keep them hidden and able to slip in and out of the country undetected. caradoc and albus met through the small business he maintains, supplying unusual protection items to wealthy clients. pictured fc - luke treadaway

bathilda bagshot - strategist

former professor of history of magic, transfiguration scholar, kindly old woman, and stone cold badass. bathilda bagshot, great-aunt to gellert grindelwald himself, is a formidable woman whose casual friendliness and willingness to chat belies a steely, flint-sharp intellect. she, knowing her family well, is in charge of gathering intel and planning stratagems to head off parts of grindelwald’s army. drawing on her vast knowledge of the history of magic, she is also in touch with many of the resistance groups sending aid overseas. growing up in the same neighbourhood as dumbledore, she has known him perhaps longer than anyone else still alive, with the exception of his brother. pictured fc - frances conroy

dedalus diggle - diplomat

everyone’s favourite grandfather figure. dedalus likes to pretend that his main use is pastoral care for the group, while in reality his position as foreign diplomat for the ministry of magic gives him a unique ability to manipulate and place people overseas, opening up underground paths for supplies and refugees. dedalus and albus have been friends for decades; it was inevitable that he would join. pictured fc - christoph waltz

edgar bones - duellist

the very portrait of a gryffindor, edgar is a tempestuous, passionate young man with a penchant for putting himself in danger to defend the weak. noticed by dumbledore for his propensity to challenge others to ‘honour duels’ in hogwarts, he scored high marks during school, but eschewed auror training in favour of attempting to fight overseas. after being caught and stopped by family members, he was quietly recruited by albus to help the round table. pictured fc - nathan stewart-jarrett

emmeline vance - healer

only just in her 30s and already known for her prodigious healing skill, emmeline is a tight-laced, no-nonsense woman with nerves and sinews of steel. a muggleborn whose father suffered shell shock in wwi and whose mother worked as a nurse, she knew ahead of time what she wanted, and is a senior healer on the spell damage ward. she reached dumbledore’s notice thanks to her meteoric rise in st mungo’s. pictured fc - ruth negga

minerva mcgonagall - spy

favored student and groomed protege of albus, minerva was immediately identified by him as someone who could be counted on to do the right thing. minerva recently registered as a tabby cat animagus, having learned the skill during the years she taught as an assistant professor in transfiguration, and is therefore a competent overseas spy, where the registry is too far away to give her away. she keeps an eye on what is going on at hogwarts, and, more specifically, an eye on the dark-wizard-in-training dumbledore does not have time to think about - tom riddle. pictured fc - maisie williams

#jackalau #subplots

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radi0activesmile · 2 years ago

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angel-dust-addict:

Angel shrunk in on himself a little as Alastor approached, almost as though he expected to be hit. Finally, he gave up trying not to hurt himself and just shifted his arm enough to get it through the strap, biting down on his lip until he drew blood in an effort to keep silent. Though his primary eyes were squeezed closed with the pain of doing that, his other six eyes remained trained on Alastor. Once he had gotten that accomplished and the dress settled as it was supposed to be, he stood panting for a moment before slipping the bloodied skirt off.

It was at that point that he froze up. He was exhausted and shaking with pain and fatigue and anxiety. There was a small trickle of royal blue blood that pooled where he had bitten his lip and ran down to his chin. He didn’t even appear to notice, he just looked dizzy and slightly panicky.

As he cradled his injured arm against his chest, he just tried to breathe. Alastor wasn’t angry. He told Angel with a soft voice and an even tone that he wasn’t angry. That Angel had done nothing wrong. Alastor wasn’t angry. And he had brought Fat Nuggets back.

Carefully, unsteady and looking nearly ready to collapse, Angel crossed the short distance back to the bed. He all but crumpled onto it and stopped moving. He didn’t try to lay back down, just sat with his primary eyes closed, shaking.

He opened his eyes when he felt Nuggets crawl into his lap and nose at one of his hands. He scooped the little piglet up and cradled him against his fluffy chest, scratching under his chin. "Did ya miss yer mama? Mama missed you, too.”

Alastor’s smile tightens at the sight of the spider recoiling when he draws near-- and even more so when he chooses to maneuver his arm (that must be broken, or, at the very least, cracked, considering just how much pain he’s putting himself through just to slide it through a sleeve.) Alastor had every intention of helping him ease his arm over in a much less painful way once he had established that he had no desire to harm Angel for daring to be comfortable. It would seem; however, that Angel wasn’t willing to wait. Or, perhaps it’s because Alastor was lingering close by that he felt the need to shove his arm and get this over with... so he can get back into the bed he seems to think Alastor will throw him back onto if he doesn’t move in the next few seconds.

He detests watching this, and yet, he can’t blame Angel for being so certain that he needs to do these things in order to prevent more pain from coming his way. While he doesn’t know a great deal about Alastor, he knows others who carry the same title: A title earned by crushing others underneath your heel on your way to the top. Angel was unaware of The Radio Demon before coming to the hotel, but he was all too aware of what the title of Overlord typically meant.

Angel isn’t shrinking in on himself and keeping his smaller eyes glued to Alastor as he desperately scrambles to jam his arm through a sleeve because Alastor is The Radio Demon. Angel seems to be doing these things because he sees Alastor as someone similar to Valentino. Which... is considerably worse, at least to Alastor.

Yet, logically, it makes all the sense in the world, and Alastor can hardly hold such thoughts against the spider. The spider who is now practically dragging himself back to his bed with the same look of exhaustion and misery that painted his eyes the night prior. Alastor folds his arms behind his back as he feels his claws yearning to grow out. Fortunately, he holds this stance often enough that no one would think it strange. “I was asked to tell you he was the picture of a perfect guest.” The deer says, his body unmoving. While he dislikes the idea of standing when Angel is sitting (it creates even more of a power imbalance) he hardly wants to sit at Angel’s bedside when the spider is still so very clearly uneasy with him so close.

angel-dust-addict:

Angel cringed. Not at anything Alastor had done this time, though. He took the offered hand with only the slightest bit of hesitance - just that same old nagging wariness in the back of his mind - and let Alastor lead him. “Don’t get yaself stabbed 'cause'a me. If it’s Charlie - or Vaggie - I probably oughta go get him. I don’t want 'em givin’ ya any trouble. 'Sides, if yer in here, somethin’s wrong. An’ I’d really ratha’ not have 'em knowin’ about dis. I can hide it. The stitches. That ain’t a problem. Wouldn’t be tha first time. ’M pretty good at it.

"If it’s Niffty,” he continued in a slightly less worried tone. “It ain’t gonna matta’. She don’t knock, first off. But she’s not gonna assume ya stabbed me or decided ta snack on me or some shit. An’ she won’t say shit ta anybody. Wouldn’t be tha first time she’s cleaned up blood in here, much as I try'n keep her out. It’s like tha lock don’t work if it’s her. I’ve just sorta gotten used to it.”

While Alastor registers the cringe, he doesn’t bat an eye at it. Like he told the spear-wielding moth when he first knocked on the hotel’s door, if he wanted to hurt someone, he had ample opportunity to do so. If he wanted to harm Angel, he had six hours where the arachnid was completely defenseless. He could have had his fellow sinner skinned, filleted, and leftovers stored in the meat locker behind the refrigerator (that no one aside from Niffty knows he has.) Angel knows this as well, yet instinct tells him to be wary of anyone who abruptly moves their hand in front of him...

As he backsteps out of the lavatory, Alastor gives a soft snicker. There’s a fondness in his tone and in his eyes for the little darling of a maid. “I have a theory that our little darling can shift her fingers into the shapes of locks.” He muses. Either that or she squeezes through the bottom of the door. One way or another, the little maid has never let any type of door, fence, or cage stop her. “Something must be distracting her since she hasn’t arrived to collect the bedding.” He thinks aloud, his ears tuning backward in increments, as if searching for a particular frequency. “Would you like me to ask her for him?”

#angeldustaddict #blood cw #abuse cw #assault cw

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alaslor · 6 years ago

Text

TASK #005 - AN HOGWARTS MEMORY

gentle hands shook him in the middle of the night and, for once, he was asleep. it was so rare even then for alastor to sleep through the night. he recognised those gentle hands with ease, as they’d shaken him in the dead of night a couple of times before, and he always knew what it was. one of his parents had gotten severely injured in some mission, they’d like to bring him to st. mungo’s and keep him out of the classrooms for at least a few days. with some haziness he got up, remembering the details of last time. fifth year, his mother had broken her leg and suffered some intense head trauma, but she’d caught the criminals, of course. he’d had tea in dumbledore’s office for half an hour and then was sent to st. mungo’s where she scoffed that there was no need for her child to be there. he’d sat outside her room as she gave other aurors reports, his father had come by a few times until it was decided he best return to school. with a robe around his pajamas, he walked slowly through the dark corridors, almost unaffected, it was surely nothing important. with any luck, he’d get to hear some auror tales by the hospital bed. pomona sprout kept a gentle hand on his shoulder the entire way.

the neutral expression on his face disappeared the moment he stepped foot into dumbledore’s office and saw another barely awake child there - kingsley, as close as a brother, standing there with all the bravery a fourteen year old could muster. “ he didn’t tell me about any… big mission. “ the first and some of the very few words alastor spoke that night, and they were whispered directly at kingsley. his parents used to tell him about the important ones, the riskier ones, told them almost like adventure stories, but he’d heard nothing, yet both he and the other boy stood there, at two in the morning. their fathers, partners in most missions, certainly the reason why. the following couple of hours felt grueling, as of they were YEARS long. dumbledore told them about a mission, alastor focused on every detail of it ( and would never forget it, especially as he’d read the reports on it. over and over and over for years to come ), and many teachers kept coming in and out of the office. it was bad. merlin, he knew it was bad, otherwise they’d have brought them to st. mungo’s already. all they could know was that the mission, on the hunt of old members of grindelwald’s army, had gone terribly wrong, and that aurors were still being given emergency care. maybe he’s been maimed, he thought, lost a limb, a piece of flesh, i suppose that takes a lot of care before they’d bring in a son. perhaps he’s been blinded. burned. tortured. his imagination, fed with years of casual talks of murder over dinner, ran wild and into terrifying places, but there was one he dared not to go.

alastor still can’t remember when it happened, but at some point in those hours of pacing, sitting, listening to kind words and anecdotes, being fed biscuits and tea and sad looks - at some point his hand had found kingsley’s. not like it used to when they were younger, alastor guiding him through the fields, gripping his smaller hands so he wouldn’t lose him, dragging him around the auror’s office, keeping a close eye on the little boy. NO. his hand shook as he found the other’s and in that small touch, they found rocks, thousands of years old, able to withstand any storm. he gripped it tightly from that moment until they walked into a fireplace and were in the busy hospital, lime green and purple everywhere and healers rushed. red as well. aurors from the mission kept coming in, apparently, being pulled out of the debris. he lost kingsley’s hand then and something cracked in his chest. what if his friend needed him ? what if HIS father had not made it ? how could he let go, let him wander into the unknown, into his mother's warm embrace that couldn’t protect him from what was to come ? how could kingsley let him go, as if he was brave enough to not know the truth the moment he saw his own mother’s face ? god, he could crumble so easily - but he didn’t.

grayson shacklebolt and sidney moody were two of the casualties of the mission. sidney died quickly, avada kedavra, lights were out, his body fell right by his partner, the original target of the spell. grayson suffered far too many injuries the survive the attack, let alone the trip to st. mungo’s.

he cried four times only. the moment he saw his mother, when a couple of unstoppable tears left his eyes, which he quickly brushed away. her face was covered in them already, the woman was almost flooding, but when her son, of only seventeen, came to place one hand on her shoulder, the tears stopped. briefly, only. little boy, raised in war, sitting in big chairs in big offices surrounded by pictures of corpses. little boy, told not to cry over his scratches when he fell, the life of an auror awaited him so much more than that. little boy, unable to complain, life would be harsh and he’d have to accept it. little boy, who never played soldier. little boy, groomed for war. constance moody saw it then, in the way he barely shook, in the way he barely cried, that she was in front of a soldier, not a boy. what had they done to him ?

he cried again the next morning, when he held kingsley in a tight embrace, not daring to crumble much more than a few tears. he cried when he returned to hogwarts that day to get some of his belongings and molly awaited him with arms so warm he could almost melt into them. the final time was when alisa walked him to the gates, where dumbledore would apparate him away, and the only thing keeping more tears away was the strength he found in her hand. by the time others came near him, he had no tears left. by the time of the funeral, he had no tears left. the two weeks he stayed at home, mostly by himself as his mother dared not leave her bedroom, he had no tears left. and just like that, constance returned to work, he returned to school. no time to waste, of course, N.E.W.T.S. were coming up.

death was so much simpler when it was impersonal. he pities every auror who tells him he gets too involved in his cases.

#parental death tw #death tw #❛ : ( character study; tasks )#maraudrshq:tasks

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