#possibly hinting at carmilla carmine hazbin hotel

[poptartregreteva]

chat which one we thinking

ignore the holes in a few of the images i was hungry

also i was listening to this while making this post in the process

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: 2582 Days of Hell

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[One shot, word count 3326, Cw: none]

———————

Eleven months. Eleven fucking months since Alastor disappeared after that fight with Vox. And not a word or glimpse of him in that entire time. You knew he was alive. There was a tiny fragment of his shadow magick in the decorative finial of one of your hatpins. The enamel black eighth note at the end of a foot of thin steel was warm to your touch. It felt like your hand resting in the crook of his arm whenever you walked together.

If he’d died, that bit of shadow would have vanished and it would just be cold enamel and metal. So you checked it morning and night. You kept your usual rotation of pins; despite wanting the constant reassurance you didn’t want anyone to notice you favoring one accessory. Maybe you were being overly cautious, but you couldn’t help it with Alastor’s absence.

Niffty had vanished in a puff of ash about two weeks after Alastor had. Presumably your husband had summoned her to…wherever he was. There were other demons that had made deals with him in exchange for their souls. If he’d died all those deals would be void. But not one had dissolved, giving you more hope that he was recovering somewhere.

Which you needed. Every time you ventured beyond your territory or Cannibal Town, every television screen in your vicinity started displaying Vox’s face. The insufferable screen saver enjoyed rubbing Alastor’s absence in your face whenever possible. Sometimes it was just his face following you. Others, he staged talk shows or news stories discussing that last fight. He always circled back to the fact that he was active and your husband hadn’t been seen for months. The longer it was, the more gleeful he became.

Extermination Day was about a month ago. You spent the whole time gripping the music note pin, trying to detect any hint of Alastor running into the angels. Fortunately the shadow was unchanged.

Carmilla Carmine had called a meeting of Overlords to discuss the fallout from this latest attack. Meetings like this generally occurred every few years, often a result from something unusual happening. A drastic increase or decrease in kills, the loss of an Overlord, a particular district being targeted, all had warranted a meeting in the past.

This year it seemed there were several upheavals in territory and Overlords in charge. After Carmilla greeted the assembled demons, her focus turned to you. “Y/N. Will your husband be joining us today?”

Decades of performing allowed you to answer steadily, with a smile even. “No, not today.” Usually you attended these together, occasionally Alastor went alone. This was the first time you were there solo. There was an immediate bray of laughter from the other side of the table.

All three of the Vees were here today. Vox had a confident sneer on his screen (he’d updated his head to be a flat screen television a little over a decade ago). Valentino licked his lips before slowly grinning in what you presumed was meant to be a lascivious manner. Velvette, the youngest of everyone in the room, was texting rapidly on her phone. She’d been the one laughing and continued to snigger.

“Not today?” she asked without looking up. “Don’t you mean never, little Miss Frigid?” She finally glared at you over her shoulder, pink braids falling heavily around her face. “Why don’t you just admit what everyone in Hell fucking knows? Vox killed your twiggy arse husband and you’re useless without him.”

You did your best to keep your cool. This would be easier if you at least knew what Alastor was up to. Outright lies could get you in trouble later on, but admitting you didn’t know where he was? That would bring a shit load of trouble now.

“Surprising that ‘everyone in Hell’ is so eager to believe your tabloid drivel.” You waved a dismissive hand at the trio, launching a slight gust at them that frizzed Velvette’s hair. Not enough to undo her hairstyle, but she wouldn’t be able to fix it without taking it all down. The girl was fanatical about looking perfect in public; the loose hairs would drive her crazy.

Carmilla smacked the tabletop. “Y/N. You know my policy on weapons and magick at these meetings,” she said firmly.

You tilted your head slightly in her direction. “Apologies, cher, I just get annoyed by the chittering of little bugs.” You deliberately avoided saying that it wouldn’t happen again. Velvette growled. “If my darling Alastor was dead don’t you think that all the former members of this group he had ownership of would be coming after me?” You laced your talons together and rested your chin on top of them. “But I haven’t had to bother myself with any of them.”

Vox snorted. “Then why isn’t the pussy whipped fucker here?”

“I’ll admit you got some good hits in during that fight, Vox. So he’s taking a well earned rest.” Hopefully your tone was dismissive enough that they’d stop pushing.

Of course they wouldn’t. Especially not Velvette, she seemed to thrive on pushing buttons. She laughed again. “Ha! An Overlord taking what, an eleven month rest? Pathetic. If he can’t even show up to protect his territory I say it’s free game.”

Apparently the girl hadn’t gotten the message about you. Vox and Valentino exchanged a glance over her head as you smiled sharply at her. “Zut alors cher! Impatient, vapid, and misinformed? On top of being poorly dressed? I suppose you have that chip on your shoulder for a reason, ma petite.” You had the satisfaction of seeing her manicured nails digging into the table. “I’m not some pretty proxy little girl. Our territory is staying ours.”

Velvette was rising from her seat when Carmilla slammed the tabletop. “¡Es suficiente! Thank you for the information, Y/N. Velvette, take your seat. We have other business to discuss.” With that the meeting started in earnest.

A handful of minor players had perished. There were still turf wars going on but it looked like at least one new Overlord was emerging from the fray. Carmilla displayed a map of the city; one contested spot was close to your borders. You really didn’t have the motivation to go after it at the moment however. If you didn’t though, the brats might just do so instead. You could see them slowly creeping closer, putting pressure on you and yours. Although with the anger in Velvette’s eyes it might not be too slow.

The meeting stretched on. Before ten minutes had passed the Vees had pulled out their phones and the pings of text messages filled the air constantly as they texted each other. Despite glares from Carmilla, they kept going. It would almost sound musical if it wasn’t so strident.

There was discussion, offers and counteroffers for territory and cash, all with the undertone of tension. You participated enough to not be dismissed as an easy target. Carmine’s rule extended to the streets immediately around her building. Despite that, you could feel Velvette and her compatriots following you closely once the group started leaving.

Fuck this nonsense. Quickly, your wings flicked open and you pushed off into the sky. You didn’t even have to add anything to the downdraft; the Vees were knocked off balance, Velvette’s hair ripped out of its braids and tangled in the gusts. “YOU FUCKING OUTDATED BITCH!” she shrieked from below. Valentino could follow you but you doubted he would. He didn’t relish pain on his own person, just his employees.

You pushed yourself faster than usual on the flight home. The exertion helped distract you. But once you were home, the door locked securely behind you, all the emotions boiled over.

“Alastor you bastard!” you screamed into the cold dark house. “Where the fuck are you!” You sent out an involuntary rush of air; you could hear items pushed off surfaces, paper and cloth ripping. That was enough to stop you from screaming more, but it didn’t get rid of your twisted knot of feelings.

You didn’t have great night vision but you couldn’t make the effort to turn on the lights. You knew where the item you wanted was. You grabbed a bottle from the sideboard and made your way to the bedroom. You skipped your nightly routine, opting to just shed clothes as you walked. Your hatpin and hat you dropped on your vanity counter. Going by feel, you grabbed the music note pin.

In the past months you had arranged cushions and blankets in the mattress into a comfort nest. You couldn’t bear the empty expanse of the bed. Your nest surrounded you on every side with enough illusion of warmth to let you sleep.

You opened the bottle of whiskey. Not bothering with a glass, you chugged gulps until it was half empty. That wasn’t the way to treat good liquor but this wasn’t a good night. You capped the bottle, placed it on your nightstand for later before burrowing under the duvet.

Not even half a bottle of strong alcohol could keep everything at bay. But there were no Overlords here to mock you, no underlings to gossip, no friends to pester you. No Alastor waiting with a handkerchief after you cried all your emotions out. Just the drone of insects in the bayou and a drop of shadow attached to enamel and steel.

Maybe he could hear you through that fragment. You were going to talk either way. “Alastor? Please come home cher. I miss you. I can do this alone, I know it. I have been. But where’s the fun without you? Come home. S’il vous plaît?” At some point you started crying and eventually fell asleep.

You woke up to a hand on your shoulder and a voice calling your name. For a split second you hoped it was Alastor, but the scent of blood and rose perfume told you who it was. “Rosie,” you mumbled, not removing the duvet. She’d had a key to your house for decades of course.

“Darlin’, how long have you been in there?” she asked gently. She didn’t remove the duvet, perhaps knowing you needed to retreat from everything.

“When was the meeting?” you managed to ask. According to your friend, it had been a full day ago. “Since I got home from that.”

She sighed and rubbed your shoulder gently. “Y/N, dearie, you can talk to me if you’d like. It seems like you have a lot going on.”

You wanted to. Oh how you wanted to just let that knot of emotions loose. But even though you were friends, Rosie was still an Overlord, roughly equal in strength. You were vulnerable enough like this. If she knew Alastor was missing, would she be able to resist the temptation to take over? You hoped so but still didn’t want to take the chance.

A few long moments passed silently. Then: “You don’t know where Alastor is. Do you honey?” You froze. “Of course not, you wouldn’t have been so cagey at that meeting if you did.”

You flipped back the duvet enough to look at her. Nothing calculating in her expression, just worry about two of her friends. Her solid black eyes still managed to express concern. She answered your silent question “I’ve known you both for ages, darlin’. We’ve helped each other out plenty of times! If your man was really that hurt, you’d have let me help by now. So, you must not know what’s going on yourself.”

“Rosie, cher, you really are one amazing demon.”

“Oh honey, you flatter me! Let’s get something in you other than whiskey and we’ll talk.” You asked her to grab your housecoat, not feeling up to getting dressed but you also didn’t want to share every bodily secret, no matter how good of friends you were.

Later the two of you were sharing a pot of coffee, biscuits, and eggs. “Do you think anyone else has figured it out?”

“That not even you know where he is? I don’t think so. You’ve been acting as if he’s with you. And none of the other Overlords know you two like I do,” she said while adding sugar cubes to her coffee. “Alright, details, details. If I’m going to help you out, I gotta know what’s going on.”

There wasn’t much more you could tell her. She had seen the footage of Alastor and Vox fighting, then both backing down and his disappearance into his shadow. Vox had aired every angle he had of the incident multiple times. He’d even made an hour-long special with 3D models recreating the fight with dramatic shots and heroic close ups of his face. Part of the special even went frame by frame through Alastor’s shadows wrapping around him, pointing out every possible detail that Vox could spin as proof the Radio Demon couldn’t have survived.

While Rosie wasn’t about to believe Vox’s word, she did gently ask how you were so sure your husband survived. “Like I said, if the former Overlords he owns were free, they’d be coming for me. But also,” you hand the music note hatpin to her, “we made these in… the 1940’s I think it was.”

You let her examine it. The cannibal turned it over in her hands, gleaming steel flashing between her slim fingers. Before long she noticed the magick in the finial. She brushed her fingertips against the eighth note and felt Alastor’s distinctive green edged black power.

“Alastor has matching cufflinks with my power in them. So I know he’s alive. I just don’t know where.” You took the pin back and sighed. “I’m not about to let everyone know about this however. Especially when he hasn’t contacted me.”

“Well, shit. That makes things harder. Not a word from him?”

You shook your head. “He summoned Niffty a while back. I thought he might send her back with a message, some information, anything. But she’s been gone since a couple weeks after Alastor disappeared. I’m so scared of making something up and it backfiring! And if those brats find out I’m basically alone they’ll all come at me together.” You ran a hand through your hair restlessly. “I can take them on individually. Maybe even two to one. But if all three attack together? I’d be fucked.”

Rosie stayed quiet, letting you vent your fear out as she ate. “Well, one thing I can do is back you up. Both with what you say about Alastor and if those three come calling.”

“You’d…you’d do that for me? For Alastor?” Sure you were friends, but putting yourself on the line for another Overlord was not the norm.

“Of course honey! That’s what allies do; it's what friends do. We’ve done enough favors for each other that I’ve stopped counting, just like you right?” You had to nod at that. At some point it was silly to keep track who owed whom. “Not to mention, you and Alastor are much better neighbors than any of the Vees or their cronies. And you know my people, they don’t care for all that modern junk those brats peddle.”

You hadn’t realized quite how unsteady you’d felt these past months. Just knowing there was someone on your side helped immensely. Enough that you could think of your next steps instead of simply trying to endure what came your way. “Merci Rosie.” She squeezed your hand gently before encouraging you to eat. You hadn’t had much of an appetite recently but you needed to. Especially if you were going to rule your territory alone for now.

You and your friend discussed your options as breakfast disappeared. Rosie, reassured you at least felt a bit more stable, headed home after helping you wash the dishes. You then soaked in the bath, letting the warm water soothe the tension in your body. Your back and wings were sore after that dash home yesterday.

The hatpin was sitting on the bathroom counter. “I’m still mad at you, cher,” you said to it. Sound probably couldn’t travel through that fragment but you decided to act like Alastor could hear you. “And I’m not going to forgive you easily. But I’m not letting everything we’ve done together crumble because I’m upset. And I’m not letting those little bitches from the Vees crush us.”

You kept busy the following days. You quickly annexed that contested area for starters. No need to give the Vees a foothold so close to you and your friend.

Alastor’s broadcast station couldn’t do much without him. But there was space in the building. You moved recording equipment there. While you couldn’t write music, you recognized talent and you had an ability to pick what music would not just be popular, but endure past the moment.

Starting with an album of your favorite songs, you set up Songbird Studios. You leaned into the audio quality of vinyl records and the aura of class and exclusivity. Even though your library of music spanned genres, you were very selective about who could sign with the studio.

With a steady flow of income, you increased your power base. More deals and souls, favors and debts waiting for you to cash in, all of which firmed up your Overlord status.

There were days you cried, days you raged, days you wanted to stay in your nest and days you wanted to tear down the Vees tower brick by tacky brick. You confided in Rosie who continued to give you support and pinkie fingers to crunch when you were particularly upset. You were there when she needed someone to talk to and provide entertainment to Cannibal Town, both on your own and scheduling artists that worked for you.

It took a lot of effort, but you did your best to act indifferent at the Vees’ needling. The less reaction they received, the less fun it was. It took years but eventually they lost interest in messing with you.

You counted the days since Alastor vanished. Even once you knew his location, you kept track until you saw him in person again. Carmilla called a few meetings over those 2,500-plus days. You went to some, skipped others.

The latest one, you saw Velvette entering the building from your vantage point above. You were not in the right headspace to deal with the little bitch, knowing where Alastor was staying but not having seen him yet. Choose your battles.

Of course, when you found out later that your husband had attended that meeting, you wanted to kick yourself. And him. And Velvette but you always wanted to kick Velvette. Might as well add in the other two Vees while you were at it.

Once you reunited with Alastor at Charlie Morningstar’s hotel, you immediately moved into his suite. He kept the same motif as your home and it was easy enough to settle in. That night, you refused to let go of his torso as you laid in bed together. Even so, you were more relaxed than any other time in the past seven years.

“Two thousand five hundred and eighty two,” you said, your face buried into his side.

“Hmm? What was that, cher?” he asked, stroking your arm.

“Two thousand five hundred and eighty two. That’s how many days it’s been since I saw you last.” You sat up a bit to look at him in his vibrant red eyes. “I kept track.”

“I would expect nothing less from you my dear.”

“I’m going to take those days out on the person that separated us.”

His smile turned sharper. His sclera flickered black as his pupils turned into radio dials. “Will you allow my assistance, my dear Shrike?”

You reached up to stroke his face. You could feel your feathers sharpening. “Of course. I’ll need help after all. And who am I to deny the Radio Demon his revenge?”

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry