#technically against cannibalism

[sedgewicke]

It sure is a good thing I'm trudging through WoR at a dried slug's pace, because otherwise Sadeas would end up as this year's Gay Character Whose Death I Get to Experience During Pride Month Why Does This Keep Happening No Really I'm Asking.

Previous ''''winners'''' include Ligur-Whose-Permadeath-They-Could've-Fixed-in-the-Show-But-Didn't (Good Omens), Dismas (Liberty: Critical Research, Fool & Scholar Productions), and I swear to god there's at least one other, but I know that if I manage to shake that memory loose, I'll just be sad again, and for what??

[dataflowdiagram]

A Pickled Poem

Twas on that day, long past the sun That Friday evening’s pickled fun A time of joy, a time of fear A time for pickles drawing near I'll try the onions, carrots too  Even gherkins, long past due Pickled cabbage, pickled eggs  Gallons, boxes, even kegs  Pickles are what I desire  Though they set my mouth on fire I love all, well all but one  And even if my stock was done No matter what, no matter when Even if I starve again I will myself always refrain From eating that which causes pain The pickle I will never love The one I hold the rest above The one whose stock shall not deplete  Pickled person, pickled feet

[macabr3-barbi3]

I know you’re on a Vox kick rn but if you get back into Al anytime soon I had a bit of an idea!

Maybe reader was hanging out with Al, not realizing he was courting her (and she was technically accepting) and then she went out and basically cheated on him bcuz she had no clue they were low key together.

Anyway he totally flips and PROVES they’re together…?

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AHHHHHH

I did go the nsfw route with this one so 👀👀👀 I hope you enjoy!!!

Tags: accidental cheating, semi-public sex, , possessive Alastor, tentacles as a gag sort of lol

MDNI 18+ 3.3k words ❤️🦌

You didn’t think anything of Alastor’s raised eyebrow when you accepted Angel’s offer to join him out at a club, or how his clawed hand grips his cane a little bit tighter when he spots you coming down the stairs in the outfit that the spider had picked out for you. You give him a smile and a wave on your way out the door, and if his eye twitches a little bit, well- Alastor was a weird guy.

Which didn’t negate the fact that he was hot as fuck; not to mention a complete gentleman, and funny, and overall kind when he wasn’t in a murderous rampage and eating people. And sure, he had gotten a little closer to you lately- you enjoyed a cup of coffee together every morning, he always made sure to save you a seat at the dinner table, he would get you little trinkets and bits of jewelry or treats when he was out and about in the city. Whenever you accompanied him to Cannibal Town he insisted on paying the tab, and always made sure to walk you back to your door before retiring for the night; he would invite you to his room for evening tea, and you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder only to awaken tucked comfortably into your bed more time than you could count. Last week he had even given you a peck on the cheek instead of just the back of your hand, a sweet blush overtaking his features before he vanished into the shadows, and it took everything in you not to grab him before he disappeared and invite him into your room.

Because Alastor wasn’t interested in those things. That was what you heard from everyone, from Angel, from Husk when you had drunkenly confessed to him at the bar one night. That it was better to just put the idea from your head, the Radio Demon has never shown any inclination towards things like love and romance or sex. You were loving getting closer to him, becoming a companion he enjoyed spending time with, but you had needs that couldn’t be met by the sweet words and kind gestures of a friend.

Hence, your presence with Angel in Consent. He was here to drink and dance; you were here for that as well, but also maybe a quick hookup in one of the club’s sex rooms. It had been far too long since you’d had a decent tumble in the sheets, and the continuous frustration at being so close to Alastor and perpetually unable to touch was driving you mad. You took the first drink that Angel handed you and knocked it back in one go, smiling when the spider whooped like a lunatic and dragged you out onto the floor.

More than an hour of accepting drinks from Angel (he was the one with money between you) and dancing with any and everyone, it was almost, almost what you needed. The air was hot with how many demons were jammed into the space of the dance floor, sweat dripped down your face and the small of your back, and your chest heaved with the force of your breathing when you finally opted to take a break. You squeezed Angel’s arm in a temporary farewell and made your way to the bar. You thought about putting one more drink on his tab but decided against it, opting to ask for water instead.

“Excuse me,” you hear to your right, and you’re met with the sight of one of the demons that Angel worked with; not one of the actors, but maybe a cameraman? Light technician? Either way, he was someone you had seen around Val’s studio before when you came to collect him at the end of the regularly scheduled nights. He was tall and attractive, and his eyes had seen too many of the shoots in Vee tower because they were just screaming ‘fuck me.’ “Think your boyfriend would object to me buying you a drink, pretty thing?”

“Considering he doesn’t exist I don’t think he would mind,” you say, and when he smiles all sharp teeth at you the low buzz of arousal isn’t quite the same as it usually is with another razor-tipped grin.

He wasn’t Alastor, but you would make do.

-.-.-

It’s barely ten minutes later that you’re walking back to the hotel alone with a stain on your nice, borrowed skirt- you figured with Angel’s line of work he would know how to get it out. You had texted him that you were going home already, too miffed about the shitshow in the sex room to ask him to accompany you, pissed enough that you think you can handle any asshole that might try to mess you with on the way. Val’s lackey had hardly managed some kissing and fingering before thrusting himself into you and giving a few quick pumps before he groaned and stilled against you. Pulling out, he trailed across your hiked up skirt and asked if you had ‘gotten there,’ and you laughed in his face before pulling your shirt back up and leaving.

“Fucking men,” you were muttering under your breath, not noticing the shadows that slipped along the sidewalk behind you as you walked with the strange sensation of the man’s release on your thighs. “Either not interested in sex at all or so fucking eager for it they bust before I can even fucking-”

Something slips around your head and covers your mouth, effectively cutting you off. Your hands come up to grab at it, tear it away, and another circles your waist, dragging you back into the dark shadows of a nearby alley. You bare your claws, eyes flashing red and preparing yourself for a fight when you realize the demon before you is Alastor.

A supremely angry Alastor, by the looks of it. His smile is tense and strained, eyebrows drawn down low in a glare as he looks down at you, nearly a full head shorter than him but refusing to cower under his rage- not realizing that you should probably be scared. “Fuck, you scared me,” you start, pulling the slack shadow tentacle away from your mouth, only for it to tighten once again and force you back into silence.

“This manner of betrayal,” he says carefully, like the words are being plucked from him with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, “is unacceptable.” His voice goes full static, the intensity of it almost hurting your ears. “Of all the scum that inhabits Hell I’d never have expected this from you, cherie. Tell me,” he demands, trailing a clawed finger down your cheek and removing the shadow over your mouth. “What could have possibly possessed you to act in such a manner?”

“Alastor, what-” The heat of him so close to you, not quite touching but close enough that the slightest movement would slot your bodies against one another, has your brain fuzzy. “Betrayal? What are you talking about?”

“I can fucking smell him on you,” he snarls, and now he does step close enough to touch, caging you between his body and the wall behind you. “His cologne on your clothing, his release on your skin. You claim to not know what I refer to when I could just as soon touch the evidence beneath your skirt before you could deny it?”

A hand comes down to the bottom of your skirt, toying with the hem, and you nearly choke on your breath. The dying arousal you had felt earlier from the demon in the sex room returns at full force, even as confused as you were with the situation, with what Alastor was saying. “Why- fuck, why does that matter? Alastor!”

You cry out in surprise when his fingers reach under your clothing, the brush of his thumb against your inner thigh before he pulls back, the thin substance of your partner’s cum coating his finger. Your face flames with heat when he brings the digit to his mouth and fucking sucks it clean. Somehow, this seems to calm him, his breath steadier and his eyes losing some of the murderous glint to them. “That you would lower yourself in this way,” he murmurs, his smile twisting into something sarcastic and hurt, “when you’ve had an attentive, willing beau this entire time that you’ve not deigned to touch, or asked to touch you in return?”

“B-beau?” His hand has returned to the space below the hem of your skirt, tracing patterns into the soft skin there, only distracting you a little. “What-”

“Perhaps a lesson, hmm? To remind you of who, exactly, you belong to. Of course darling, we’ll first have to rid you of the evidence of your transgressions…” And in a move that shocks you almost as much as it makes your stomach clench and swoop, the Radio Demon drops to his knees on the damp, dirty asphalt of the alley.

Your breath punches out of you when he looks up at you, head level with your lower body, and asks, “or do you have any objections to that?” With his hands fisted in the fabric of your skirt.

“No! No objections, fuck, please” you manage, and then your pussy is met with the cool air of the night as he shoves your skirt up and your panties simply vanish. It’s hardly a moment of anticipation before his tongue is pressed against you, warm and slick and circling incessantly at your swollen clit and then dipping down, licking at you with determination that makes you cry out, the sound echoing in the alley. “Alast-” 

A tendril of shadow pushes past your lips, and Alastor hums against your pelvis below you. “Quiet now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with every word. “Already one person too many has seen you in the throes of passion tonight- I’ll be damned if there is another.” He licks your drenched folds again, the strong line of his nose keeping pressure on your clit as he angles his head and pushes in, and your hands fly off the wall to clutch desperately at his hair. The sounds coming from where he’s connected to you are loud and lewd, wet suckling noises as he bends and twists his agile muscle inside of you.

The tentacle thing in your mouth isn’t large enough to choke you, and tiny snippets of sound still escape you from Alastor’s ministrations. Your body feels like a livewire, crackling with energy that stems from where he feasts on you and threatens to shatter outwards, destroying everything in its wake. He pulls back and you whine at the loss, the shadow petting your tongue almost soothingly when Alastor looks up at you, eyes wild. “Almost finished, dear,” he murmurs. “I’ll ensure that every trace of that cretin is gone- he tastes vile, not even this much of him deserves to be anywhere near you.” He releases your skirt at last, his fingers pressing against the entrance of your cunt with a smile and his tongue swiping the evidence of what he was cleaning you of. “A cheap substitution for me, to be sure; allow me to provide a more refined alternative.” His finger hooks inside of you, mindful of the clawed tip, and drags slowly, brushing against that soft spot inside that makes you see the white of static behind your eyelids, makes you clench down hard on the digit before it slides out and Alastor stands to his full height again, satisfied that he has successfully removed the cum of the stranger, hands at his waistband and pulling his belt open with a clink of metal.

He hikes your legs up around his waist, and you feel the hot length of him pressed against your sensitive flesh. "Will you allow me to take you, darling? Feel the sweet clench of you around me at last, and erase every remnant of the unworthy sinner before me?"

“Fuck, yes, Alastor,” you pant when the tentacle slips from your mouth, and fucking finally his lips are on yours, and its everything you had been fantisizing about for months. His tongue glides against yours, licking into the wet cavern of your mouth, and you moan at the taste of yourself on him. Your voice is lost between his teeth when he presses into you, his cock like velvet coated steel against your inner walls, still pulsing and twitching from being right on the edge of your own orgasm. He groans into your mouth when he reaches the hilt, his hands tightening their grip on your hips and bucking his own forward to sheath himself further inside of you.

“Divine,” he murmurs against your mouth, sharp teeth catching on your lips and causing blood to pool on your tongue before he can suck it away. “Perfect, darling- well worth the wait, even considering the situation we find ourselves in.” Its frankly unfair how well spoken he still is, even as he steadily pounds into your willing body without so much as a catch in his breath. “I’ll never again be satisfied unless I am on the verge of spilling into the tight heat of your body. How does that sound, d-dearest?”

Finally his voice cracks, his body stuttering against yours as he fights to maintain his control. “Please,” you whisper, “please, I’ll do anything- I need it.” He laughs against your neck and drags his tongue over your sweaty skin, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be. He fucks into you with a reckless abandon that was surely going to get you caught, moans and whimpers tearing themselves from your mouth when he occasionally releases your lips to nip and suck at your skin. “I’ve wanted- for so long, please…”

“You could’ve had me,” he growls, “at any time. And instead you’ve come to this den of delinquency and allowed another to take you instead. But we’re fixing it now, darling-” His hips slam hard into you, the sound of his balls slapping your skin with every thrust the only thing you can hear under his moans, under yours, the cries that echo within the space between you.

A hand comes up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer not for a kiss but to rest his forehead against yours. “Tell me,” he demands, and it feels like a plea with how wide and manic his eyes are, how desperately he bucks and grinds into you. “Tell me you’re mine. Promise you’ll never go to another again- that I am enough.”

“Yes,” you agree breathlessly, “yes, Alastor, please-”

“Say it,” he snarls, his sharp teeth snapping inches from your face, his smile possessed as he pounds into your cunt with a feverous need. “I need you to say it, darling, my doe, please-”

“Yours- oh fuck, please, always yours, Alastor- no one else, never again-” He cuts you off with his tongue licking into your mouth, like he means to steal your breath, to swallow you whole from the inside. He releases your head to rub skillfully at the sensitive bundle of nerves above where you’re connected, and your world goes white as you cum, a scream lost into his mouth as you shake in his embrace, internal walls clamping down with brutal force, the hard length of him inside of you more perfect than it has any right to be.He loses his rhythm against you, his pelvis stuttering with a couple more sharp thrusts before he stills, spending himself inside you with long, hot pulses that make you shiver in the aftermath of your own orgasm.

You stand there trembling against one another for a moment before Alastor assists you in standing on your own feet again, righting your skirt and getting rid of the stain on it with a snap of his fingers. He keeps his hands on you after he’s tucked himself away, over the curve of your waist, your arms, fiddling with your hands in the space between your bodies. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft and hurt.

“I must know, darling- what was I lacking?”

Your eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“In my courting,” he clarifies, and cups your cheek in one hand. “I so wish you had come to me first if you had needs to be met- surely you must have a reason for why you didn’t do so?”

“Courting? What are you talking about?” 

He freezes, the static fading from the air around you in mere moments and Alastor searching your eyes. “I mean myself, of course,” he says, and while his voice is clear there’s a hint of surprise to it. “We’ve been courting for the better portion of a year.”

“We’ve what?” You think of the closeness you had shared for a while, the gifts and friendly touches and such that you had been interpreting as mere platonic affections. “Oh Satan,” you breath, as you realize you’ve been misunderstanding this whole time- he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to touch you- he was upset thinking that you had gone elsewhere when he would have been more than happy to-

Alastor’s hand leaves your skin and he takes a step back. “You… you accepted, dear,” he says imploringly. “My- my gestures, my affections. I thought-'' His eyes widen and his smile goes tense, his entire body following suit. “It would seem I owe you an apology, darling. I see that the situation at hand has come about of my own incorrect assumptions.” His shadows retreat, the shape of his form already less than corporeal when you let your hand dart out to wrap around his arm as he tries to slink away.

“No! Wait, please, I didn’t know-” He resolidifies before you, his expression still guarded as he looks down at you. “I promise- if I had known I would have never come out with Angel tonight. I thought- everyone told me you weren’t interested in sex or relationships, so even though I had those feelings I wasn’t going to make it your problem.”

“Hence your presence here tonight.” He sighs, the tension melting from his body as he comes closer again, reaches out for you and holds your face in his hand. “I was trying to be courteous in my courting of you; taking it slow so as not to startle you away. You truly didn’t realize with the time I spent with you, the small gifts and gestures?”

“I didn’t want to assume anything and make you make a run for it.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small, half annoyed half incredulous huff accompanying the movement. “It seems a bit of communication might have saved us both the wasted time. I admit I feel like a fool, for not simply being upfront regarding my intentions.”

You also felt like an idiot- instead of talking to him you had let the others scare you out of months of what could've been nights full of blissful pleasure rather than frustrated tossing and agonizing over your own feelings. Just before you could open your mouth to tell him how sorry you were for the mess you felt you caused, he was already speaking, his voice soft and yet rough around its edges. 

"Well, then let's not cry over spilled milk. Too many moments were wasted already, we won't waste one another with useless apologies, since I believe both of us have made our standpoints quite clear a few minutes ago, don't you agree, darling?"

As if to help you recount, he presses his forehead on yours, a slender arm wrapping around your waist, and you can't help but smile back at his grinning face. He doesn’t release you as he allows you both to drop into shadows, and you can’t wait to see what life will be like properly at Alastor’s side.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it. 

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words. 

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little. 

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank. 

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims. 

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead. 

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight. 

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo. 

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands. 

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss. 

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping. 

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point. 

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair. 

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall. 

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night. 

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him. 

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do." 

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

[gangsteri-aine]

Kind of obsessed how the whole QSMP, in the end, resolves around love.

The island is full of murderer, cannibals, escaped prisoners and other kinds of people with questionable morales and they aren't exactly good people but they will do anything for each other when needed. Especially when it has to do with one of the eggs.

It takes a village to raise a child and that really shows. Anytime the code and now the eye workers show up, everyone is there to fight and to protect their kids.

After Empanada died, Bagi was enraged and incredibly sad. Pac, Fit and Ramón tried to do anything they could to help her deal with it. Fit said multiple times it wasn't her fault, it was the eye workers fault, no one else's. Pac was ready to help her get revenge. Ramón, the egg who never really liked physical contact or hugs if they weren't from Fit, hugged her and didn't leave her side until Em was back.

After the initial rage and panic, Bagi started thinking about ways to protect the eggs. She was worried because she didn't know how to build an enderpearl stasis chamber and was instantly told by others not to worry about it, Bad will help her.

And Bad did. As soon as he heard what had happened. He showed Bagi his idea to protect the eggs and said "don't worry, I got the technical part. All you need to do is react when needed".

You can also see this with the egg quests. More often than not, a lot of the stuff is ready to go (we thank Bad, Phil and Fit for that) when people log on.

Not all the islanders trust each other (people mentioned in this are not an example of that) but they will do anything for the eggs. If you ask for help, you will get it. And most of the time the people giving you that help are not considered "good people" but there's a good change that you aren't either.

I think I kind of lost the point already but idc I just love found family so much and QSMP is just full of people who have nothing but each other to fight against all the bullshit that the island throws at them.

[the20thangel]

Father and Son Bonding

Summary: This was a request from someone: " May I request something with Targaryen reader and Benjicot Blackwood? Benji is getting along with Damon, and (God, I can't get this out of my head) they are talking about how much they hate the greens, and Benji calls Aegon a c**t. (His voice is so deep and hot.) But the reader is just happy they are getting along because Damon is the most important person to her other than her mother."

Word count: 1030

Tags: not much ?? cursing ??

As Aleera Targaryen commanded her dragon Vermithor to land near the ruins of Harrenhal, She saw her father Daemon come out to meet her and her party arriving. Aleera was the eldest daughter of Prince Daemon and Queen Rhaenyra. Albit a secret to those who were not close family. She was born with the typical Targaryen platinum hair, straight like her father’s and her grandfather’s Baelon indigo eyes. She was the epitome of a Targaryen princess. She was a proud dragon rider, knowing how to sword fight since she was young. Who practically commanded her father to teach her since Ser Crispy Cole refused to, stating that ladies fighting was a disgrace in the eyes of the seven. She could care less about the seven as a believer in the Fourteen Flames.  

Walking out of the castle, Daemon looked up to see the bronze fury, always glad to see his daughter. He frowned, seeing someone behind his daughter; that person was Benjicot Blackwood, the new lord of Raventree Hall and technically his good-son. Aleera and Benjicot have been married for over a year, and how they became married caused a little drama in the court. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viserys, in a last stitch to bring his family together, proposed that Aleera and Aemond marry. Rhaenyra and Alicent were against it, but Visery was deadset about marrying his second son and oldest granddaughter. Aleera stated she would rather feed herself to the Cannibal than marry her uncle. Seeing that her grandsire would not budge, she decided to take manners into her own hands. Going around the seven kingdoms and told any eligible man that anybody who could beat her in a duel would have her hand in marriage. Many would try, but all would fail as she grew disappointed and desperate to find someone worthy. Then, she met Benjicot, who had never placed himself in the group of men for her hand. 

It was only by coincidence she saw him training with Oscar and Kermit Tully. Seeing his bloodlust and wicked sword skills, she grew interested. Depending on who you ask, she insisted or commanded that Benjicot duel with her. Benjicot tried to decline but was ultimately pushed by Oscar and Kermit, each of who tried but failed to win the hand of the princess. As the lord and princess dueled, Aleera felt the rush that no other man had ever made her feel before. It all happened by chance that Aleera accidentally slipped on mud, allowing Benjicot to win the duel. He used that excuse not to ask her hand, but Aleera only smiled and said that no other man had come even as close as he had, asking him if he would give the pleasure of marrying her. With the encouragement of the two lads, Benjicot smiled and accepted the match. 

The two held a fast ceremony with a Septon unifying them in front of the Weirwood Tree with Alysanne Blackwood and the Tully brothers as witnesses. Once the news arrived at the Red Keep, King Viserys could not annul the marriage, not when there was proof of the couple consummating the marriage and parchment from the septon who married them. Aemond grew furious, demanding that the Lord of House Blackwood be punished for taking his wife. This caused Viserys to scold his son in front of the court and ask his granddaughter and husband to present themselves to him. Aleera arrived proudly wearing House Blackwood colors along with her husband, much to Aemond and the greens' ire. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Aleera and Benjicot stepped down from the Bronze fury, Aleera smiled at her father but quickly frowned at his deshelved state. As Benjicot greeted and bowed to the Prince, he noticed the prince’s state, glancing at his wife, who nodded; maybe Harrenhal was haunted. Following Daemon to the main room, a small feast would be held for the princess and her lord husband. As the feast progressed and the wine was consumed, many men, including Prince Daemon and Benjicot, began to joke around. Someone mentioned how Benjicot had punched a lone Braken after the Battle of Burning Mill. Aleers snorted into her cup; her husband always had a short fuse regarding Brackens. Daemon tauntly asked why the current generation of Brakens and Blackwoods hate each other. 

“Well, they just declared for the greens, my prince, showing us the true colors.” Stated Benjicot as he stared down the prince. 

Daemon raised an eyebrow silently, asking for elaboration. He noticed his daughter smile and shake her head fondly at her husband. It seemed his daughter truly enjoyed her husband's company. 

“The Brakens are thieves thinking they are owed something that doesn’t belong to them, just like the little thief Aemond “one eye” is. They are also weak, craven cunts like their stupid craven, weak cunt of a king Aegon, the pretender,” explained Benji as the room cheered, shouting out the words insulting Aegon and the greens. 

Daemon laughed menacingly as Benjicot gave his signature smirk first to his wife and then toward his good-father. Aleera rolled her eyes as she leaned to kiss her husband's cheek. 

“Oh, I knew my daughter was smart to marry someone like you. I like you, boy; you will duel with me tomorrow.” declared Daemon as he rose from his seat, raising his glass. 

“To my daughter, Princess Aleera, for choosing a smart, ruthless husband who will cut any Braken on site and soon any green on sight, to Bloody Ben who will restore my wife’s throne into our family hands!” cheered Daemon as the whole hall cheered raising their glasses to the Princess and her lord husband. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later the night, as Aleera lay in her husband’s arms drawing circles on his naked chest, she hmmed, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“Who knew the fastest way you and my father would finally bond was your shared hatred for the greens? If I knew that was all it was going to take, then I would have pushed for you to talk earlier,” smirked Aleera, staring at her husband. 

Benjicot smirked back at his wife, never replying to her, only bringing her closer as he pressed a kiss to her mouth.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♱ ₮ⱧɆ ⱧɄ₦₲ɆⱤ: Ø₦Ɇ ♱

♱ Pairings: boyfriend!yungi x chubby!fem!zombie!reader

♱ Genre: horror/angst/fluff/a micro drop of smut

♱ Summary: On your way back home from a party you and your boyfriends get into a terrible accident. While they walk away nearly unscathed, you don't walk away at all. The next day while mourning their loss your reanimated corpse finds its way back home and sparks their journey down a very bloody road that pushes the limits of what exactly they're willing to do for love.

♱ Word Count: 3.5k-ish

♱ Warnings: you're dead, babes, sorry. Undead technically. Mentions of a car accident, some grieving, light descriptions of your undead body, technically necrophilia, blood play, blood drinking, a lil smidge of cannibalism if you squint, masochism, Yungi are like really obsessively dedicated to you, kissing, and a handjob to top off this totally normal list of warnings.

♱ A/N: If you're reading this I'm assuming you're also a fellow horror lover so, hello my love. I've been working on creating a lot of horror series lately and this is one of them. I'd consider this like the lightest appetizer, the bread before the meal so to speak. An intro before we head into a world of full blown erotic cannibalism, murder, dismemberment, ya know, fun wholesome things that await in further entries. So if this is too icky for you I beg of you stop here. It'll only get worse.

The rain hasn’t stopped since. It began the moment you died. Sheets of it pouring down from the weeping and endless night sky. Down to the minute, down to the very second that doctors pronounced you dead. And even now, as the morning sun pries itself through a thick fog of gray clouds, it cascades around the quiet little house you called home. One that's been filled with sorrow because you’re lost. The two men inside seated opposite each other at the kitchen table, picking over a thrown together breakfast, have lost you.

And the rain…it hasn’t stopped since. 

But Mingi doesn’t mind. Everyone who needs to know has been informed and his phone has been on silent since. The rain’s an armor of sorts. Knowing no one can make the drive out to bother them in this weather has bought him the time he needs to accept a reality that doesn’t feel quite real yet. 

“You should eat something” Yunho insists, fork tapping at the edge of his ceramic plate, his own food untouched. He knows it’s nothing special, nothing close to the delicious meals they woke to everyday from you, but he poured everything he had into it.

Mingi raises an eyebrow, swirling the fork an inch or so above his plate before shoving the gleaming silver into the space between the cast on his left arm and his inflamed skin. Every human has two bones in their forearm. The ulna and the radius. Mingi walked away from the car accident having fractured both of them. Yunho, the driver, had gotten lucky with only a few cuts and bruises. A flesh wound to the abdomen. And you, well…

“Can you stop that?” Yunho asks, the sound of the metal back of Mingi’s fork scraping against plaster grating his ears. It isn’t his fault, though his heart aches in a thousand places thinking that it is. Mingi doesn’t blame him. He couldn’t have predicted the oncoming truck would swerve the way it did. No, he blames the world but, isolated between these eerily quiet walls, Yunho is all there is to it.

Mingi scratches faster, deriving some relief from the sting that comes along with it. “I’m sorry, is this bothering you?” 

Yunho breathes in and back out. In and back out again. Deep, full breaths meant to calm his boiling rage at that incessant screeching. Mingi doesn’t mean to do this. He’s just hurting. They both are. “Just ignore it” Yunho tells himself “Ignore him. Ignore the burning in the pit of your stomach. Ignore the tears.”

“Stop it before you hurt yourself!” Yunho shouts, snatching the fork from Mingi’s hand.

Blinking, his eyes dart over to his empty chair and back to a shocked Mingi. Yunho isn’t sure how he got over here. He doesn’t even remember getting up. A tear runs down his cheek, the exhaust from an overheated engine, and he swiftly wipes it away.

Mingi hangs his head, ashamed of his immaturity pushing Yunho a little too far. “I’m sorry” he says, sniffing back tears of his own, “But it hurts so much. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. I just want her back”.

Yunho tosses the fork onto the table, taking Mingi into his arms just as he breaks down into tears, “I know, I want her back too. I’d give anything to see her smile or hear her call my name again.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A rattling at the front door lighter than a toddler’s, light enough that it’s nearly lost to the rain. “Yunie! Mingi!” a voice calls sweetly, broken and the faintest bit horse but distinctly yours. The blood in their veins runs ice cold, the color draining from their faces. The men look to each other, desperate for confirmation that they haven’t lost their minds. 

“Did you—” Mingi starts, rising from his chair, careful not to make a sound. 

Yunho nods, moving towards the front door, with Mingi close behind. They tiptoe down the hall, floorboards creaking here and there as they pass framed photos of the three of you together. “Open. Please. Cold. So cold” your voice croaks once more, Yunho’s fingers inches from grasping the doorknob.

Mingi slips off to the side, peeking through one of the curtains, and his heart nearly stops from what he sees. “Open the door! It’s her!” he shouts, pushing Yunho aside to unlock the door. 

Yunho slams it shut, unable to wrap his mind around what’s happening, “What do you mean it’s her? It can’t be her!”

“It’s her! I swear! Open the door!” Mingi begs, gripping the doorknob tightly enough that his hand’s begun to redden, “Yunho, please.” 

There has to be an explanation for this. Some shared hallucination fueled by their grief. They’re only hearing things, they must be, but Mingi seems to need this and Yunho can’t bring himself to deny him of it. “Okay” he sighs, backing away from the door, “Do it.”

Mingi wastes no time tearing it open, rain pouring in as you limp across the threshold. The two towering men shrink at the sight of you, terror freezing one where he stands and making the other retreat into a corner.  

Barefoot and soaking wet, you wear the tattered, blood stained dress you were rushed to the hospital in. In death your skin has paled, broken blood vessels giving your lips a light blue hue. Behind you is a trail of muddy footprints, marking your journey up the front stairs to this place you call home.

It’s a blur. Your death and your return. It’s all a series of broken memories, fragmented pieces of film that make you dizzy each time you attempt to piece them together. You can only recall a party filled with dancing and laughter. Headlights brighter than the sun. Screaming. A dark place. A coldness eating at your bones. Then, like magic, you were here, dragging yourself up to the front door with blistered feet and an unnerving stillness in your chest.

Turning to meet the faces of the men you love, faces that haven’t once failed to light up in your presence, you’re puzzled by their fear. Noticing Mingi’s injured arm, you run your fingers down his cast. 

“Mingi hurt?” you grunt softly. 

His eyes blur with tears and he blinks them away, quickly conjuring up a lie to soothe your worries. “Only a little. I was working on something out back and, well, you know how clumsy I can be, but it’s nothing” he says, smiling through the tears.

You return the comforting gesture with a smile of your own, placing a frozen palm against the warm wetness of his cheek. “Liar. Mingi hurt. And…sad?” 

“No, baby, not sad. I’m just happy to see you. We’re happy to see you, aren’t we?” Mingi looks to Yunho, confident that he feels the same way, but finds instead that he’s alone in his joy. 

Backed so far into a corner that he might as well be a part of the wood paneling, this is nothing short of a nightmare for him. This is unnatural. Far beyond anything that should be possible. You, the real you, is lying on a slab in a morgue somewhere. Whatever’s standing before him is something he can’t bring himself to trust. 

“Yunie hurt too?” you ask, turning your attention to the bruising around his jaw. You hobble over to him, nearly touching his hand before he snatches it away. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

His rejection is so alien to you that you don’t even process it as such, reaching out for him again. “Yun—”

Your fingers skim his, making his skin crawl. “Don’t touch me!” he yells, slinking clear of your grasp. “I don’t know what you are but you’re not her. She is dead. You are dead.”

“Me? Dead?” The word sends more memories racing through your head. The taste of wine. Your favorite. Mingi’s arms around your waist. A high pitched ringing in your ear. The beeping of machines. The visions drown you in an overwhelming sense of sadness that makes you want to crumble into pieces. 

“No! Don’t listen to him!” Mingi says, filling the space between you and Yunho,“You’re not dead, baby. You’re here with us and it’s a gift.” Ignoring the nagging pain of his injury, Mingi lifts you up into his arms, cradling you like a baby as he carries you up the stairs. 

“Now how about we get you cleaned up?”

“Take bath? Bubbles?”

Mingi laughs, smitten with you even in your undead form, “If that’s what you want, of course.” 

Yunho slides down to the floor, growing catatonic as he zones out to the sounds that come from above. The running of bathwater, his best friend’s laughter, and the broken words of some kind of monster. This has to be a nightmare. All he needs to do is wait it out until he wakes up. 

“Wake up” he whispers like Dorothy clicking her heels together three times to escape the land of Oz, “Wake up. Wake up…”

Two showers, one long bath, and a few hours cuddled under the blankets with Mingi. That’s all it takes for you to begin to look more like yourself. You’re far from what you used to be, signs of your time as a lifeless corpse still showing through, but you’re coming back to yourself and, however long that takes, Mingi’s more than willing to wait it out.

While you’ve refused to eat, despite the grumbling of your empty stomach, he’s managed to keep you happy with movies and games which now litter the bed and the area around it. Much to Mingi’s dismay, beating him at everything is something you picked up on quickly. You’ve only been back to life for a few hours and already you’re kicking his ass again.

“Play again?” you ask, excitedly spreading your winning Uno hand out on the blanket. 

Mingi yawns, the sleep he lost last night beginning to catch up with him, but he shuffles the deck for a new game anyway. He knows he can’t keep this up much longer. His lids are growing heavy and his focus is waning but he can’t, for any reason, allow himself to drift off to sleep. While Yunho may be somewhere in this house terrified by the possibility that this isn’t just a dream, Mingi’s been haunted by the very real possibility that it might be. What if he closes his eyes and you’re gone again? That’d mean losing you twice and his heart can’t survive breaking for you a second time.

As Mingi deals the cards, you glance around your bedroom with fresh excitement. Every new color or scent brings your dulled senses back to you if only briefly. And every item has a memory attached to it. Some vague, some incredibly vivid, but all serve as a suitable feast for a brain hungry to recover what once was. Just as your focus hones in on a pair of fluffy puppy shaped slippers by the door, you catch a tall figure looming in the doorway. 

Halfway obscured by the wall, Yunho watches you the way a scientist would its test subject. Simply observing, waiting for you to do something that proves you’re an imposter. But you only smile at him the way you always have, making him feel strangely welcomed to enter the room.

Coming up here was far from his intention. The rain had let up almost immediately after your arrival and he’d picked up the car keys a half dozen times to leave. Once he got as far as the end of the driveway before he turned back, making it further up the steps each time until finally gaining the courage to face you.

And it is you. Despite the words he spat in fear and anger, he felt your energy all around him when he first heard your voice and that feeling’s grown in intensity every minute since. 

“Are you playing or are you just gonna watch like a pervert?” Mingi teases. 

Yunho steps from behind the wall, arms folded across his chest, “If I recall correctly you’re the one who likes to watch” he shoots back, cautiously entering the bedroom. 

“Ha” you snort, sorting through your hand, “Like with sex and stuff.” 

“Oh, I see you’ve been helping her get her language skills back. Starting with the important words first, huh?”

“Playing or watching? You pick. Quickly” you insist, patting Yunho on the arm, his prior reaction momentarily slipping your mind.

He winces a little, jogging your memory, and you go to pull away but he stops you, taking your hand into his. It’s like holding hands with a block of ice, making sense of the baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants you’re curled up in. What you said on the other side of the door had been true. Cold. So cold. 

Yunho’s thumb traces the blue collapsed veins down the back of your hand, brushing past your knuckles to an empty space on your ring finger. There used to be two gorgeous silver rings there, part of a set of six that he and Mingi had made for all of you. 

“Mingi says we’ll get back, won’t be a problem. Right, Mingi?” Your question’s met with the sound of snoring, a few seconds without stimulation being just what Mingi needed to drift off to sleep. You crawl up the bed to lay down beside him, poking at his cheek. “Mingiiii” you sing, softly flicking at his plush bottom lip. 

Yunho slips in on the other side of you, pulling your fingers away from Mingi’s face. “Maybe we don’t do that” he laughs, “We should let him rest. I think he’s tired.”

“Mingi’s tired and what about you?” you ask, rolling over to face him. The color of your eyes are marbled between the paleness of death and their natural shade. It’s bizarre but beautiful in a way that mesmerizes him. 

“Tell me, have you eat and sleep?” You pet his hair, watching it twirl around your fingertips in bouncy brown wisps. Being touched by you, it’s something he thought he’d never feel again, and the joy of it makes him want to cry almost as much as the fear did. 

“It’s ‘eaten and slept’ but no, I haven’t. I couldn’t” he says, “I’d ask you but…”

Your stomach grumbles, announcing its hunger. You hadn’t eaten before the accident. The party you were headed home from had been overflowing with alcohol but food, at least any you were interested in, was in short supply. 

“I can cook for you. We haven’t been shopping but I’m sure I can whip up something.” 

You shake your head, having already gone through this with Mingi, “Nothing really tastes good but the smells help.”

“The smells? What smells?”

“Mmm” you hum, sniffing the side of Yunho’s neck, “You and him. Your smell makes me warm inside.”

Nuzzling your nose against his neck, you inhale the scent beneath his cologne. The natural oils of his body are more fragrant than anything that comes in a bottle. You rest a hand on his heart, feeling it pound as your lips meet his heated skin like ice against fire.

Yunho can’t help but feel guilty about the way his body responds to you. He can’t manage to fight the instinct to bring you closer, massaging the fullness of your curves through the thick cotton of your clothing. You part your lips, dragging your tongue along veins that rush with hot, fresh blood. As they pulse below the surface of his skin, yours begin to pulse as well, matching the rhythm. 

“I…I’m not sure we should be doing this” Yunho stutters, his hands betraying his words to move under your sweatshirt and reacquaint themselves with the rise of your hips and the hills of your breasts. His lust for you only makes the blood pump through his body faster, worsening your hunger. 

“But I need you to keep me warm inside. Please don’t let me be cold again” you beg, sinking your teeth into his neck. Blood drips from his wounds, coating your tongue, pooling in the bottom of your mouth. It’s the taste of life, draining his to restore yours, and you’re ravenous for it.

Yunho screams out in pain, sacrificing a few shreds of flesh to tear himself free of you. “You bit me! Why would you do that?” he cries, stumbling to his feet, his sleeve pressed to his neck to control the bleeding.

On your hands and knees, you move to the edge of the bed like a lioness prowling for her next meal. Your eyes swell with tears at the pain you’ve inflicted but your mouth salivates at the delectable taste of his blood. The ecstacy of it sliding down your throat makes you feel more alive than you did when you actually were. 

“I’m sorry, Yunho. I didn’t mean to hurt you, really. I think I’m just, mmm, hungrier than I thought” you pout, speaking with perfect clarity for the first time.

“Hungrier? Are you…you’re trying to eat me?”

“Eat you? Of course not. I would never. I only needed a nibble to make me better.” You raise your shirt, stroking your exposed skin as it grows plumper and warmer to the touch. “Come feel me. Touch me.” 

Your voice is like a spell, drawing Yunho back in. Your body sings out to him, whispering how badly it longs for him. He wants you, though he shouldn’t. The searing pain in his neck dulls at the realization. It gets him off seeing that you need him this desperately. Not only for pleasure but to survive. 

Approaching the bed again, Yunho lowers his blood stained sleeve from his neck and caresses your body. The red liquid coating his fingers sticks to you like candy, leaving a trail of red along your belly. You lean into him, sliding a hand up his thigh to palm the growing bulge in his jeans. He lets out a satisfied moan, lightly tugging at your hair so that your head’s tilted back, sparkling eyes gazing up at him. 

“What are you?” he whispers with whatever speck of sanity he has remaining.

His bloody fingers find your mouth and you lazily lick them clean, savoring the taste. All the while your own hand’s undoing his zipper to stroke his length, your thumb circling the moist tip of his cock.

“What am I?” you giggle, “I’m yours, aren’t I?”

Releasing his middle finger from the suction of your soft lips, you push his sweater up to kiss your way across his lower stomach. Every kiss has his cock twitching in your grasp as his fingers tangle deeper into your hair, keeping you in place.

And then you find it. The perfect spot. You aren’t sure how you know but you just do. You suckle at his skin, letting your teeth gently pierce the surface until your tongue’s reintroduced to the taste of his blood. Yunho grits his teeth through pain that only makes the adrenaline rush that follows all the more pleasurable. 

“I’m still yours, aren’t I, Yunie?” you ask, his flesh still filling the space between your teeth.

Yunho pulls your head back and leans down to kiss you, the feeling of your lips against his worth the faint metallic taste that comes along with it.

“Of course you are, baby” he whispers, “You’ll always be mine and I’ll never let anything hurt you again. I promise.”

You lay back on the bed, pulling him on top of you, and wrap your legs around his waist. Yunho tears at your clothes, kissing you ravenously as if he’s the one with the undead hunger that must be fed. He’s ready to rip them off of you and take you right here with no regard at all for the best friend sleeping an inch away from you. But a loud banging at the downstairs door snaps him out of it, stirring Mingi from his sleep in the process. 

Mingi jolts upright in bed, on the verge of a heart attack, “Huh? What? What’s happening?” He glances over just in time to catch Yunho climbing off of you to zip his pants back up, the blood from your second bite already showing through his clothes.

You reach back to rub Mingi's leg, your view of him inverted, “Mingi, be calm.”

“Be calm?” he shouts, jumping to inspect the blood on your face, “Answer me now. What happened?”

The banging on the front door gets louder and Yunho throws a “Ssh” at Mingi, sneaking to the window to get a peek at the unexpected visitors. 

“Don’t shush me! Why’s there blood and why were you…” 

Yunho turns around slowly, eyes wide and hands trembling, “Mingi, shut up.”

“No, not until one of you tells me what’s going on and who the hell is that?” 

The banging continues, shaking the door so hard the hinges creak. Yunho sits back down on the bed, his brain firing off in a hundred directions at once. He wishes the knocking at the door were another minion of the undead—some corpse you accidentally drug back with you from the trenches of the morgue—but what awaits him this time, what awaits all of you, is something far worse. 

“It’s the fucking cops.”

[theamberfist]

The Common Enemy | Dad Alastor

Familial! Alastor is Reader's Adopted Dad from life

Description: When you bring home your new partner (platonic or romantic), neither your dad, nor your son are enthusiastic about it. So for the evening, they decide to put their hatred for each other aside and unite against their common enemy.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of murder, death, violence) (manipulation) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's adopted child) (Reader is an adult) (Reader has an adopted son)

❀ This oneshot is based on the I'm a Grandpa! Headcannons I wrote a bit ago. I recommend reading them before this but you don't have to! ❀

❀ Reader has a partner in this; they are written as gender neutral and can be platonic or romantic! ❀

Words: 6,497

Alastor never thought he and Amon would ever agree on anything; aside from the fact that they hated each other, of course.

The young boy had been a complete nuisance to him since the day they'd met, but because you seemed to love him so much, he'd had to constantly play nice with the child and act like the doting 'grandfather' you expected him to be.

How he hated being called that. 

The Radio Demon himself had adopted you when you were very young. He'd had his own reasons at the time (mainly entertainment value and the avoidance of suspicion being a single dad would bring him), but he'd always been an attentive and loving father to you, despite being a cannibal serial killer underneath it all.

Since you'd grown after his death, it seemed you'd chosen to follow in his footsteps and take in a child of your own; a choice he wished he could have prevented you from making. Not only that, but you seemed to expect Alastor to love the boy! 

Amon was a disaster of a child. Where you had been well-behaved, kind, and polite, he growled at people like a feral cat and only ever answered to you. But on top of that, he hid his more violent tendencies so you'd think he was a better-behaved kid than he actually was; masking it all behind a sweet smile and a deep love for his parent.

It almost reminded Alastor of himself when he was younger, which was what he hated about it. 

There was no room in the Radio Demon's heart (if he had one) for anything but his love for his child, entertainment, and the radio itself; and it seemed Amon felt much the same way about his parent as well.

Which meant the two of them were constantly competing for your attention, whether you knew it or not. Sometimes you would be tending to Amon; making him food or supervising him as he played or tucking him into bed, and your father would suddenly barge into the room claiming he had 'urgent news' or that whatever he needed your help with simply could not wait another second as he pulled you away from your son; not forgetting to smirk triumphantly at the child from behind your back as the two of you left.

Conversely, there had been plenty of times where you'd been enjoying tea with Alastor, listening to his radio broadcast, or exchanging gossip, and Amon had come running into the room claiming to be gravely injured and in need of your help, or that he'd had a nightmare or something else had occurred that needed your attention. Seeing that evil smirk reflected back at him by the child as the two of you would leave hand-in-hand always made Alastor grit his teeth.

More recently, though, a third party had surfaced that was now beginning to demand your attention more often than not; putting both grandfather and grandson on edge. 

You had gotten a partner. Alastor wasn't sure when it had happened, considering he made it his job to oversee most of what you did in hell, even if he wasn't technically present (the power to manipulate shadows while remaining mostly undetected only seemed to become more useful now that his child was in hell with him). He wasn't able to get any answers out of Amon either, as expected, but it seemed that the boy was just as confused as him about how this could have occurred. 

Nevertheless, you had a partner now. You'd broken the news to them both at dinner one night, not even realizing how the news sent them both silently spiraling in their seats. 

Your father had pretended to be mostly unbothered, asking when that had happened. You'd explained that it was new; that you and your partner had only decided to call one another that recently after having hung out a few times. Amon seemed to choke on his food at that and you gently patted his back as Alastor nodded, calmly congratulating you while being sincere about none of it. 

And now, a day later, you would be bringing your partner to dinner to meet the 'two most important people in your life.' Alastor also despised being called that. As your father; the very man that had raised you, shouldn't he have been the most important person in your life? It shouldn't have mattered that you'd now taken in this...parasite!

At present, both he and Amon stood in the living room of the home you all shared, waiting for you to come through the doors with your new partner. Based on the boy's tense muscles, Alastor gathered he hadn't been put in this situation before, meaning this was, indeed, the first serious partner you'd had. 

And, with any luck, they would also be the last. 

Neither of them seemed willing to take a seat as they waited, remaining with their eyes fixed on the door. Alastor knew you were about a block away from the house right now thanks to his shadows, but as for the kind of person you'd be bringing home, he would have to wait until you arrived to find out. 

He glanced at Amon again, who had gotten himself dressed up and presentable for dinner on his own. When asked, though, Alastor would of course claim he'd helped the boy like he was supposed to have done. Thankfully, your son looked much more presentable than he had the day Alastor met him. 

The Radio Demon silently sighed as he recalled how you and him had reunited in hell. After so long apart, it would have been a completely lovely moment, had the child not been there to ruin it. 

..........

You and Amon had been walking down one of hell's many streets. Apparently, he wasn't very enthusiastic to meet whoever you'd been looking for because he dragged behind you slightly as he walked. Still, he remained silent and didn't complain so you let him get away with it; glancing back every few seconds to make sure he was still alright and following behind you, not that the kid would ever have dreamed of allowing himself to get separated from his parent. 

At the time, Alastor had already managed to locate you through one of his shadows, and with the knowledge that you really were in hell now, had begun casually making his way in your direction as if he, too, was on a simple stroll. 

That was when he'd finally gotten within your earshot and, knowing you would recognize his voice, turned to the nearest demon to ask them for directions he didn't actually need. 

The second you heard him speak, you'd recognized him as your papa from when you were alive and had nearly teared up as you gazed at him. In turn, the Radio Demon's eyes had landed on you as his smile softened into something more genuine. 

"Papa...?" You called, stopping in your tracks. Amon stopped too but kept his eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to interact with whoever you were talking to. He was content just to trail after his parent like a lost puppy and prevent any harm from coming to them with his own hellish powers, it seemed. 

Immediately, Alastor had appeared beside you and pulled you into a hug as you finally let the tears spill out of your eyes. "Finally, my little one, I've found you." He said softly as you leaned into the hug. Just like when you were alive, it seemed you were the only person the Radio Demon was so comfortable touching, and he held you close to him as he took in the fact that he really did have his child back after all this time. "How I've missed you..."

The moment was promptly interrupted, though, when he noticed the little boy standing directly behind you. Upon noticing his sudden silence, Amon had looked up to meet Alastor's eyes. Not only that, but he'd glared as if the Radio Demon had done something wrong by hugging his own child (Of course, Alastor didn't deny that he had done plenty of wrong things but this was certainly not one of them).

Seeing Amon like that immediately made rage bubble within the overlord and without a second thought, he'd created a tentacle that appeared from the ground and grabbed the little boy, pulling him away from you.

A random child following his own kid around had to have bad intentions, after all, so in his mind, he'd been protecting you.

You, of course, realized what was happening almost immediately and called out to Alastor. "Dad!" You shouted as you pulled away from the Radio Demon and turned back to your child, who was currently dangling upside down in the clutches of a black tentacle-thing. Amon, however, seemed less than concerned as he swung over the ground, simply snapping his fingers to create a black hole behind the two of you. It started sucking in everything nearby, aside from you, and Alastor's smile seemed to only get angrier as he was slowly pulled further and further from you now.

"Amon, what did I tell you about using your power in public?" You said as you placed both hands on your hips and turned back to the boy. The black tentacle holding him only seemed to tighten its grip now though; as if trying to squeeze the life out of him. Behind you, Alastor was having to grip a crack in the sidewalk to keep form being sucked into your son's pit of death, which only made his own power that much more violent as Amon was raised higher in the air; probably to then be dropped back to the ground again.

"Dad!" You called, but it fell on deaf ears, "Amon!" Neither one of them made another move or even looked at you and finally, your patience began to wear thin. Taking a step between the two of them so your body now blocked their views of one another, you put out both your hands. "Both of you; cut it out!" Your voice boomed and this time it was finally enough to make them both stop; freezing as their powers ceased. Amon fell to the floor now that there was no tentacle holding him up but was relatively unharmed. You sighed in exasperation.

Gesturing for your son to come over and stand by your side- which he promptly did- you turned back to the Radio Demon. "Dad," you spoke in a calmer tone now, "This is Amon; I adopted him when I was still alive." Alastor's eyes widened at that but you just turned back to the little boy.

"Amon, this is your grandpa." 

"This is the guy you told me about?" The kid asked with a tone of slight disgust. At the moment, Alastor's own disdain wasn't being hidden very well either and you sighed.

"Yes; we're all family now." You made a point to look at your dad as you said that; who rolled his eyes but didn't protest. He was aware a good few years had passed since his death, and that you'd been left all alone since then, but a part of him had always hoped he'd never have to deal with you bringing in...extra family members like this. What was next; a pet dog? A spouse? 

"We've been looking for you since we got down here," you went on to explain to the red deer-like demon, "I wanted you to get to meet your grandson." Internally, you'd hoped this meeting would have gone better than it did. After all, you'd always hoped for your dad to be proud of you; especially when it came to things as big as this. Alastor, noticing this, did his best to hide how much he hated the situation.

"I see," he said with a sigh before finally turning to Amon, who still stood by your side. Bending down, the Radio Demon held a hand out to the child. "Then I suppose it is a pleasure to meet you...child." He trailed off as Amon took his hand and shook it; his grip more firm than that of most adults. Neither of them enjoyed the physical contact with one another but so long as you were watching, they had to play along. 

Alastor stood up straight now, turning his back to you so you wouldn't see how he immediately wiped his hand on his jacket. It was at times like this when he missed the days where he used to carry a pack of wet wipes for sanitation, like when you were little. 

"Now, I suppose since you both are new, you haven't seen much of what hell has to offer!" He exclaimed, immediately putting on a cheerful attitude that made Amon's glare worsen, "Allow me to give you a personal tour!" You smiled at that, placing a hand on your son's shoulder. Of course, there were many things you and your father would have to discuss now that you'd been reunited, but for now, you just wanted to enjoy being able to be around him again after having lost that in life. 

"We would love that, dad." Amon had to disagree, but he kept quiet about it, nonetheless. Alastor's grin widened and he immediately took you by the arm, ignoring how the young boy immediately moved around to walk on your other side.

And thus began a feud between grandfather and grandson.

..........

The door to your home opened now and both Alastor and Amon stiffened as you entered, followed by a sinner neither of them recognized. They looked nervous but your smile only widened as you shut the front door behind the two of you. 

"And here they are!" You exclaimed with pride as you gestured to Alastor, then Amon.

"This is my dad and this is my son, Amon." You smiled brightly. The other sin waved awkwardly as the Radio Demon's head tilted in both intrigue and disgust. Amon crossed his arms but gave them a curt nod.

"N-nice to meet you both!" Your partner squeaked as you attempted to ignore the obvious fear in their voice. Of course, you briefed them about your family. Amon, as a sinner child with some extraordinary powers, could be quite intimidating, and Alastor was the feared Radio Demon himself. You'd made sure your partner knew what they were getting into beforehand, but nothing could have prepared them for quite how scary this moment would be. 

"Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" Alastor spoke, though his supposed enthusiasm didn't match his tone at all as he did so. The sinner beside you nodded and then Amon spoke up.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance!" He said, displaying all the manners you'd instilled in him over the years. Your smile widened, feeling slightly reassured by their welcomes. Though, you could still sense the growing tension in the air. Deciding not to let it fester, you turned to your partner.

"I still need to finish up making dinner; want to help me?" You asked. They nodded almost too eagerly, wanting nothing more than to be away from the rest of your family. Your dad's eyes narrowed at that.

"Need I remind you, dear, that I am hardly unequipped when it comes to the kitchen?" Alastor called as you began making your way to the door, followed by your partner. "I am more than happy to offer my assistance!"

"Or I can help!" Amon said, eager to prove himself as the more helpful one of the two. 

"That's okay!" You told them with a kind smile, "I think we've got it handled. Why don't you two set the table and we'll meet you in the dining room in a few minutes?" Your partner looked beyond relieved at that, wanting a few minutes alone with you to discuss whether this night really was a good idea. Neither Amon, nor Alastor seemed enthusiastic about their assigned task but they didn't protest either; letting you head off into the kitchen and closing the door behind you. 

Once you were gone, Alastor snapped his fingers, summoning a few of his shadow creatures that then ran off to set the dining room table like you'd requested. Amon ignored his antics, heading for the room himself, but with no intention of actually doing the chore you'd assigned. It wasn't lost on him how the shadow creature set every place at the table beside his own so he got to work preparing his own spot. That way, it wouldn't look like he'd been slacking. 

Alastor came into the dining room too, but rather than helping out at all, he simply pressed his ear to the wall connected to the kitchen in the hopes of hearing your conversation with your partner. Sure, he could have sent a shadow in to listen to you, but then there would be too much risk of you noticing it and getting mad at him; something he would have preferred to prevent right now. 

Once Amon's place at the table had been set, he went over to the opposite corner of the same wall and pressed his ear to it as well.

Not much could be heard from the kitchen, aside form your occasional laughter and light chatter with the sinner you now seemed so fond of. It made the Radio Demon's blood boil just hearing it, and judging by the clear glare on your son's face, Amon was no fan either. 

"Why do they even need him?" He asked as he crossed his arms and stepped away from the wall now. "We don't need any more surprise family members." It wasn't lost on Alastor how the child glanced his way while stating the last part.

However, having confirmation of the child's dislike toward your partner did give him an idea.

"I couldn't agree more," he replied, sending a look at Amon, whose glare only deepened, "I suppose all we can do, however, is wait and hope they eventually break things off with one another." He gave a shrug before inspecting his nails in disappointment. Just as he'd hoped, that sentence was enough to plant the seed of an idea in your son's head.

"Or speed up the process." Amon said with a mischievous grin now. The Radio Demon made a show of raising his eyebrow at that.

"Why, are you suggesting we break them up ourselves? A scheme, perhaps?" He asked with fake surprise in his tone. Amon just nodded. Alastor pretended to pause for a moment, letting the boy continue.

"I don't like you," he admitted, "And I don't like having a grandpa now, but I like them even less." He tilted his head toward the kitchen, referring to your partner. "So I think we should call a truce; just long enough to get rid of them." Alastor's smile only widened. It seemed this boy really was like a younger version of himself, and right now, he was thankful for that.

"I suppose that would solve both of our problems," he admitted with a hum, "And for the record, I do not enjoy having a grandson now, either." There was another pause before he finally brought to light the question he'd been wanting to ask this whole time. "Alright, then how about we make a deal?" Green smoke appeared on his hand and Amon shielded his eyes form its bright light. 

"I'm not supposed to make deals with anyone," he said carefully, glancing at the wall of the kitchen, where you were. Alastor supposed that, after having that rule drilled into you by him upon reaching hell, you'd passed it down to your son, too. 

"This wouldn't be a deal for your soul," he clarified, "More like an...Agreement. You and I work together to break up their relationship tonight, and the obligation ends there. The catch is that you must be willing to work with me until then, dear grandson." The term of endearment felt more insulting to Amon than anything, but after a moment, he nodded, taking the hand of his grandfather reluctantly. 

"Alright." He replied, and with that, the deal was (quietly) made.

..........

After what felt like an eternity, you and your partner came out of the kitchen, bringing the food you'd prepared into the dining room, where you set it on the table. 

"We saved you a seat!" Amon exclaimed happily, pointing to the chair beside him. There were plenty of spaces at the table, so it wasn't as if he needed to do so, but you did as he said in order to please him anyway. The way they'd set it up, you sat between your son and your father with your partner directly across from you as if they were being interrogated. They chuckled awkwardly upon realizing this but didn't bring it up.

You started passing around the food, allowing your family members to take whatever they wanted and helping Amon serve himself as needed. Meanwhile, the glances exchanged between Alastor and the little boy went unnoticed by you.

"So, what is it you do, my esteemed fellow?" Alastor asked your partner, though his tone held anything but genuine curiosity. They gulped.

"W-well..." They began as you nodded encouragingly, "...I work in technology." That gave the Radio Demon pause and there was a slight static noise before he replied.

"I see." He said, "And what sort of technology do you work with, then?"

"M-mostly television," your partner admitted carefully, "I work for Channel 666, specifically." You could sense the growing tension at that; your dad had never exactly been fond of television. You'd grown accustomed to it, though, especially because Amon had always loved it. Turning to him, you expected a more positive reaction, but instead were met with an unamused ten-year-old. 

"Sounds boring." He said and you nearly choked on your food. The Amon you knew would never have thought that; had something happened to your kid?

The rest of the meal passed mostly in silence, aside from your occasional contributions. Alastor was more than happy to divulge memories between you and him as he'd raised you, and Amon was always glad to talk about how much he loved his parent, but the second you tried to bring your partner into the conversation, they both promptly shut down.

It was very awkward.

Finally, everyone finished their food and Amon turned to you with an eager expression; as if he'd just remembered something very important. 

"(Preferred Parent Name), remember that drawing I was working on earlier?" He asked as politely as possible as Alastor stared from behind your back. 

"Yes, is it done already?" You asked, excited to see the final result of the project he'd been nurturing for several days already. The boy shook his head but pushed his chair back.

"No," he admitted, "But could you please come pose for it? I need the reference if I'm going to draw you, too!" He was already standing and taking your plate off the table, as well as his own. He deliberately ignored both Alastor and your partner's dishes as he awaited your response. 

"Of course, sweetheart," you grinned, ruffling his hair as you pushed your own chair back and went to stand up, "Maybe we can all come see-" Before you finish your sentence, Amon interrupted.

"No!" He nearly shouted. Behind you, Alastor's smile tightened in a way that told the child to watch his tone when speaking to you. "I...Don't want anyone to see the unfished drawing but you." Amon said, gently taking your hand now. "Please? I promise it won't take long!" 

You still seemed unsure, turning back to your partner, who was shaking their head urgently in the hopes it would prevent you from leaving them all alone with the Radio Demon. Unfortunately for them, though, your dad piped up before they could.

"Why not humor the boy, dear?" He asked with the soft, genuine smile he only ever extended towards you, "After all, I assure you I'm perfectly capable of entertaining our guest in the meantime!" He practically spat the word out but you didn't seem to notice as Amon continued tugging on your hand.

"Alright, alright," you told your son with a chuckle before glancing back at the terrified sinner, "I'll be right back!" You assured them, and then with that you finally disappeared into Amon's room.

Now left alone with your dad, your partner turned to face Alastor again, only to see the Radio Demon already staring them down with a sinister smile. His eyes had turned into radio dials that seemed to be glowing in the now dimly-lit room. 

"Now that we're alone," Alastor spoke as radio static began seeping into his tone, "I believe there is something we must discuss." 

The sinner jumped out of their chair and scrambled back as Alastor seemed to grow, climbing over the table towards them. Black tentacles started growing out of his back and there was a green glow wherever his overlord powers persisted. 

"P-please, I've done nothing wrong!" They tried to shout, only to be silenced as one of the tentacles grabbed them and squeezed around their body. Alastor was towering over them now as he stared into their eyes with his own. 

"What you've done is get involved with a family in which you do not belong." He snarled. His antlers, which had previously been small, had grown off his head now and tapped against the ceiling with how tall he was. "So, if you value your life, here's what you're going to do..."

Before the Radio Demon could finish, though, the sound of a door opening nearby caught his attention and in an instant he'd reverted back to normal, standing over your partner as their shaking body collapsed on the ground. They gasped for breath; unable to take their eyes off him for fear he would kill them if they did. 

"My dear!" Alastor called as he noticed you now coming back from Amon's room, followed by the young boy, "Finished his drawing already, has he?"

"Only the sketch," the child replied calmly. A whole conversation was exchanged between the two of them through their eyes, with the Radio Demon questioning why they hadn't been gone longer and Amon seeming having been unable to keep you distracted much more. "But it will be enough for me to work with when I feel more inspired." 

You glanced at your partner, who was still laying on the floor, and raised an eyebrow. Seeing the realization begin to appear in your eyes, Alastor promptly spoke. "I was just helping this fine fellow off the floor!" He explained as he extended his cane towards the sinner now, "It seems they are quite clumsy." He stared into your partner's eyes, daring them to say anything other than an agreement. Luckily, they seemed to get the message. 

"Thank you..." They managed as they grabbed ahold of the end of your father's cane and allowed him to pull them off the ground. He nodded in response. 

"Well, I'm glad you two are getting along..." You replied, though you were clearly suspicious. You weren't an idiot; you knew how your father was. And though you hoped he would have gotten over some of his overprotective tendencies since you were an adult (and a parent) yourself now, you wouldn't have put it past him to be plotting something.

Before you could think much more about it, though, Alastor spoke up again. 

"While we're on the topic," he began, bringing up a topic you certainly had not been on, "I wanted to show you where I decided to hang that painting; the one you so generously gifted me last week!" He didn't even need to fake an enthusiastic tone at the memory; after all, his own child had gone out of their way to buy him such a nice piece of artwork simply because they'd thought he would like it! He was touched.

"Oh," you said, remembering that he'd mentioned wanting to find a place to hang it up, "I'm sure wherever you picked is great, dad." You glanced at your partner again and Alastor could tell you didn't want to leave them alone a second time, but he wasn't about to back down either. 

"Why, thank you, dear, but this is your home too! I want to make sure you appreciate my interior decoration skills as much as I do!" He exclaimed, "It had slipped my mind before, but now that I recall, it simply cannot wait!" He started heading for the hallway again, gently taking you by the arm. You sighed but didn't protest. 

"Alright." You said before looking back to your partner and son, "Amon, be nice, okay? I'll be right back!" And with that, you disappeared once again. 

Your partner sighed in slight relief. Though they could tell your son didn't like them any more than your dad did, he at least seemed less dangerous than the Radio Demon, they thought.

The boy's immediate glare told them they'd likely thought wrong, though, and he snapped his fingers, immediately creating a black hole behind them that began sucking nothing in except the sinner themselves. A targeted black hole, one could call it. 

"I don't like you." The child told your partner, "I'll make your death look like an accident." He was, of course, very good at doing so. He'd hidden almost all his violent tendencies from you for years, after all, and he wasn't about to let his dear parent find out he would be behind this, either. 

You would definitely ground him for life if you did.

"Please, Amon!" The sinner cried as they held onto the carpet for dear life, "Just tell me what you want! I could be the best second parent you could ask for!" The boy's expression darkened at that and the black hole seemed to only get stronger. 

"I don't want another parent!" He shouted, glad Alastor was using his powers to prevent you from hearing any of this from the other room, "The one I have is perfect! I don't need grandpa, and I don't need you!" His power's increased strength was enough to finally break your partner's grip on the carpet now and they went flying back towards the black hole.

Just before they were engulfed, though, the hallway door opened once again and Amon was forced to make his powers disperse in order to prevent you from seeing the scene. 

"(Preferred Parent Name)," He said with a smile as he turned to you, "How was Grandfather's painting placement?" Alastor's eyes narrowed at the title but he said nothing as he followed you into the room. Unfortunately, he could only make the viewing of a painting take so long, and you two had been back before he'd wished it. 

"Perfect, as expected." You grinned back, then noticed your partner on the floor, "Did you fall again?" 

They were still shaking slightly but they gulped at the sight of Amon's dark glare. "They seem to lack spatial awareness tonight," the boy said with a shrug before stepping forward and offering his hand to the sinner. "Here, please let me help you up." Since his back was turned to you, your son smiled evilly down at your partner and they couldn't bring themselves to accept his offer, even if it would upset you.

Pushing themselves off the floor on their own, they drew in a breath and then turned to you. "Can we talk in private?" Your eyebrows raised at that but you nodded, gesturing for them to follow you into the hallway. They did so, scurrying after you as they eyed Alastor cautiously.

Once the two of you had disappeared, the Radio Demon turned to Amon with a satisfied smile, both of them knowing exactly what this would be about. 

"What is it?" You asked your partner with concern. They took a deep breath, remembering that you'd warned them your family could be eccentric. They'd been prepared for some weirdness but hadn't expected anything like this. 

"I don't think I can do this," they admitted, your face immediately falling at the words. "I can't get along with your family."

"You promised you'd try," you said, feeling very dejected, "I told you who my dad was and you said it didn't matter!"

"That was at the beginning of our relationship!"

"So?" You asked.

"So, I didn't plan for us to be this serious!" Your partner finally replied, "I didn't think I'd end up having to meet your family!" You froze at that. Meanwhile, Alastor and Amon, who had their ears pressed to the hallway door, both exchanged angry glances at the idea of anyone daring speak to you like that. 

"You told me you wanted us to be permanent," you said in as calm a tone as you could manage.

"I do," your partner replied, gently taking both your hands in their own.

"Then...Can you please try to get along with them?" You asked, "They both mean the world to me." Your partner sighed. They'd known this about you since before you two got into a relationship. Your family was too important for you to ever brush them aside, and if they couldn't make that relationship work, they knew there was little chance their relationship with you would either.

"Fine." They said finally, "I'll try." After all, you would be with them for the rest of the evening, wouldn't you? It wasn't like your dad or son would have another chance to try and kill them with you present. 

Outside, Alastor and Amon's smiles both widened creepily. Had your partner simply told you what they'd done, they knew you would have believed it. After all, they had less than perfect reputations when it came to violence. But since they'd chosen to keep quiet about all that, it seemed the game was still on. 

"Thank you." You smiled, pulling the sinner into a warm hug. They took it in for a moment and then you pulled away. "I'm going to go to the restroom, so please try to at least talk to them while I'm gone?"

The second you said that, your partner's face fell. They were so dead. You didn't seem to notice the fear that appeared on their face as you turned and headed for the restroom. They gulped, debating whether to heed your request and face the family members again or stay right here where it was assumably safe until you returned. 

Their choice seemed to be made for them, though, when the door to the hallway slid open and an inky black tentacle moved toward them. They wanted to scream, but before they could, it grabbed them and squeezed once again, dragging them back into the living room where it closed the hallway door behind it. 

There, both Alastor and Amon stood with sinister smiles as they watched the tentacle hold your partner up. Amon snapped his fingers again and another black hole appeared; this time directly below where the sinner was dangling. They let out a cry of fear, only for it to be cut off by the pressure of the black tentacle. 

"We tried to warn you to get lost." Amon said as he crossed his arms in supposed disapproval, "Now you have to pay for it."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Alastor added as his eyes became radio dials once again. With that, the tentacle let go of your partner and they were dropped into the black hole. They screamed as the bottom half of their body was enveloped by it and they were about to fall all the way through when the door to the hallway opened once again and everything returned to normal with your partner panting on the floor. 

"(Preferred Parent name)!" Amon called as he ran over and hugged you for no apparent reason. You smiled and wrapped your arms around him before looking up at Alastor and your partner. 

"Everything alright?" You asked. The Radio Demon was about to reply but the sinner spoke before he could get the chance. 

"No!" They shouted, "Everything is most certainly not alright!" They stood from where they'd been laying on the ground; still panting heavily. "I can't take it anymore! I've been nothing but cordial to these...Monsters! And they still hate me! I'm done!" They stomped towards the front door as your eyes widened.

Again, Alastor felt they'd missed the big point of him and your son having tried to kill them but it only worked in favor of his plan so he supposed he could let that slide. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, following after your partner as you let go of Amon. 

"We're done!" They finally shouted, turning back to you, "Don't contact me again; all of you are insane!" They gestured to the three of you before turning and slamming the front door behind them. You froze for a few seconds as they left.

After a moment, though, the tears you'd felt coming on finally fell and you sunk to your knees. Immediately seeing their opportunity, Alastor and Amon moved in to hug you; one of them on either of your sides. 

"It's okay, (Preferred Parent Name)," the little boy comforted as he leaned into your right shoulder, "They seemed like a meanie anyway!" You chuckled through your sobs at that. Leave it to your kid to always notice those red flags before you did.

"The boy is right, darling," Alastor added, "And you still have your family here to support you! When you feel a bit better, I'll make your favorite recipe, hm?" You sniffled at that before nodding. 

"Thanks, dad." You said softly as you leaned into your father's embrace. Amon leaned into yours too and you held him in a similar way to how you would a giant stuffed animal. "You two are the best...I guess that's why you're my two favorites, huh?"

For once, neither of them felt anger at having to share that title. You closed your eyes as you wiped some of the tears form your cheeks and Amon exchanged a glance with the Radio Demon, who seemed surprisingly content. Like before, no words were needed between them to convey what they wanted to say, and after a minute, Alastor nodded down at the boy approvingly.

It would likely be the last time he ever did so, and soon they would go back to their usual dynamic, but at least for tonight, you'd managed to bring the two of them together. It seemed having a grandson wasn't the worst thing; Alastor realized.

If nothing else, the little boy had proved himself quite useful in the face of a challenge like today, and he could appreciate that.

He still hated being called 'grandpa,' though. 

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter four

“take what you want.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: blood, flies, poisoning, mentions of nausea, descriptions of: violence ; cannibalism. ; suffocation ; and murder, kinda angsty?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: just a quick little note here for something i felt the need to clarify. there’s a moment that would have been perfect for alastor’s microphone but i am working under the fact that it’s still broken, which (to me) carries too much significance for his character and i don’t know how to magically fix it for him 🥲 i just realized i haven’t explicitly addressed why it hasn’t been mentioned at all and wanted to explain myself lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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Seeing the distress on your face, Angel put a hand on your shoulder and tried to do damage control. “Whoa, babe, it’s okay! It’s probably just a coincidence — forget I said anything, all right? It was a gag!” 

You had been doing so well at keeping Donny from your mind today, but you could feel the panic welling up again. As the blood drained from your face, your mind raced with questions. How did Angel know it was Donny that you had attacked yesterday? How did they know each other — through work? Was someone looking for whoever had been responsible for it? What would happen if they found out it was you?

He peered over you and gave Alastor a nervous look. If you were shrinking against the static you felt building behind you, you didn’t even want to know what his face was looking like right now. But the thought of Angel being in Alastor’s line of fire was worse.

“But that was his name,” you said, giving them each a quick look. “Or at least that’s what I heard his friend call him.”

“Perhaps the elevator isn’t the best place for this,” Alastor said cooly, stepping forward to push the button that re-started your descent. He pivoted to face you and Angel and you felt admonished under his gaze. “Sylvie and I are on our way out, but if you’re free this evening Angel, we can discuss this more in private. I have some questions of my own.”

“It’s a date, Smiles,” Angel cooed, happy to diffuse the tension, and you felt yourself relax when he gave your shoulder a little squeeze. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d invite me up to your room.”

Alastor’s smile strained as his gaze wandered from Angel to you, leering. “Who said anything about my room?” 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The walk into the city had been quiet, the tension from the elevator ride not yet fully gone. You knew Alastor’s good mood from yesterday wouldn’t last forever, but nothing could have prepared you for Angel’s ambush. How were you just supposed to sit with this until tonight? Your mind was still going in circles with questions, but what you really couldn’t let go of was how upset you had gotten at the sound of Donny’s name. Last night you thought you had made some kind of peace with your actions, but apparently you weren’t quite there yet.

It wasn’t so much the murder that bothered you, since you knew he’d eventually recover. Besides, it’s not like it was something you technically hadn’t done before. Though what happened with your grandmother was different; you’d poisoned her for starters. The rest was damage control and you died in the process so… karma. 

It was the rage you displayed that was chilling. You had never lost control like that before, no matter how upset you had been. And even though you had thrown up, you never thought — no. It was still too much to think about and your stomach turned in response, threatening to evacuate what little was in there.

You were so lost in thought it wasn’t until you were nearly standing in it that you realized Alastor had brought you to the alley. He really was such a menace. Donny was nowhere to be seen but the large pool of blood left behind had baked into the concrete. The bag with the liver was there as well, rotting in the afternoon sun.

“Is this the bag you were muttering about earlier?” Alastor asked, leaning over it with his arms crossed behind his back. You had forgotten about letting that slip while you were cleaning, your headache getting the best of you in a moment of weakness. Alastor hadn’t been moved.

He seemed unbothered by the putrid smell that you were actively trying not to gag on. Flies escaped the bag as he inspected it with the tip of his shoe and you grit your teeth in disgust at the sight. Alastor looked over at you when you didn’t respond right away, his neck bent at an unnatural angle to make eye contact. You managed a nod in confirmation, too nauseous to dare open your mouth to answer. Had he really brought you here just to see if you had been lying about it? Or did he just want to see you squirm? Probably both.

You nearly fainted when he reached inside the bag, sending more flies on their way, and held the soggy, rancid parcel in his hand. Enjoying your repulsion, he made a show of inspecting it. The glittering smile on his face one of the more genuine displays you’d witnessed. 

“Such a shame. This would have made a great surprise,” he said as his hand turned over, the liver falling to the ground in a resounding, wet slap. 

Almost instinctually, your hand went to your mouth, drawing out a lighthearted chuckle from Alastor. He wiped off his hand and made his way back to you then, and you trailed slightly behind him down the street. Neither of you noticed the drone.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor was beginning to feel… impatient.

Considering the ordeal yesterday, he hadn’t expected you to be in the best of moods but you had started the morning off with some promise until Angel Dust appeared in the elevator. His lip twitched at the thought. What a fucking disaster that had turned out to be! The gray cloud hanging over you since then had only seemed to build, despite his effort to snap you out of it by popping into the alley.

Of course that had been mostly, if not solely, for his own pleasure. It was disappointing but not surprising that your victim Donny had been retrieved. Alastor had recognized the name of course, recalling how Valentino was shouting at his phone as he left the dry cleaners. It just had to be one of his little toys that you messed with, didn’t it? Not that you had known, but it was only a matter of time before that garish buffoon would find out about you. And despite it all, the dried blood that nearly reached from wall-to-wall was such a marvelous sight — what a mess you had made! A job well-done indeed, though it had put him in a bind. 

He knew you weren’t going to have the same appreciation for it that he did, and your disgust at his performance with the spoiled liver had been fun enough. He hadn’t been lying when he said it would have made a great surprise. But none of that had done anything to cheer you, and now you weren’t even keeping pace, walking behind him like a kicked dog. Hell, you certainly looked like one, the sullenness on your face threatening to break his own composure by the second. This wouldn’t do, not for the last free afternoon that he had you at his disposal. 

Alastor paused, ignoring how you ran into him and cursed, his attention on a cafe across the street he was fairly certain he had visited before. Perhaps sitting down to chat would help. It was lunchtime, anyway.

“Let’s stop in there,” he said, looking down at you, taking care to point out the cafe. Lord knows your poor soul needed all the direction it could get right now.

“I thought you wanted something from the butcher?” you questioned, eyeing him and the cafe with suspicion. 

The Radio Demon narrowed his eyes, smile tight, his shadow pulling free of him for a moment. If he wasn’t on the verge of being pissed off your question would’ve been funny; a feeble attempt at seeming to know his mind. And as of now, he was not in a laughing mood. Were you really so self-absorbed that you couldn’t tell you were on thin ice? A reset was definitely in order.

“Can’t a fellow change his mind? That rigidity of yours puts such a sour mood on everything! You seem to be full of nasty little habits,” Alastor sneered, pleased to have gotten under your skin as you scowled at him.

He didn’t wait for you as he made his way across the street, knowing you’d follow whether you wanted to or not.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Being treated to lunch wasn’t something you had ever expected from Alastor. Impossible didn’t even begin to describe this scenario. It was just so… cordial. He always took his meals alone at the hotel, making Rosie the only person you knew he would willingly dine with. And there was no way sitting down to a table with you would equate to that. Rosie was a peer — a friend! You were not and never would be.

That much was evident when he had held the door open for you, clearly forcing his hand. Outwardly, it would have appeared a genteel act but you knew better, even without the self-righteousness on his face as you quietly entered the cafe. What else could you have done but obey? It’s not like you could run away, having already felt the ominous tug on your neck as he walked across the street. 

He had left you at the table to order at the counter, and you watched as the cashier struggled to maintain his composure in Alastor’s presence, seemingly scared to death. It was the first time you had ever seen someone outside of the hotel interact with him, you realized. Alastor was being polite enough, though nothing seemed to reign in his air of superiority. The look in his red eyes told you all you needed to know: he loved having power over others. Whether it came from a place of fear or respect didn’t matter as long as he had the upper hand. This was the demon you belonged to.

When he joined you at the table, you could tell he was in a bit of a better mood. Despite the means to get here, you silently thanked the cashier for cowering. Hopefully he had softened whatever blow Alastor had in store for you. Though the placid look Alastor was giving you made you fidgety. Could be the calm before the storm…

“You’ve been testing my patience,” he finally said, waiting for the boy from the register to leave the table after dropping off two coffees. “But luckily for you, there are more important things I’d like to discuss. I’ve had quite a busy morning, not that you bothered to ask.”

It took all you had not to roll your eyes but you managed to keep a straight face, feeling his temper writhing just under the surface of his calm facade. But you had been with him nearly all morning. Or did his suite magically clean itself? What could possibly have happened in between those few gaps? Especially something you’d want or even know to ask about. And if I’d asked, you wouldn’t have told me, you thought indignantly.

“I’m sorry… the whole thing with Angel just really threw me off,” you said as sincerely as you could. It wasn’t a lie, after all. “And I don’t think going to the alley helped, either,” you added, eyes flitting from him to your coffee. Bold, but also not a lie.

He chuckled into his cup. “I’ll concede to that. I thought it would be funny, but I shouldn’t expect you to share my taste in humor. You’re still so new, and all that. But I worry if you don’t shake that mortal way of thinking you’ll wither, my dear, and that would be a shame. If you’ll allow me, I’d take great pleasure in helping you fix that.”

You were unsure of how to react. Technically, he didn’t need to ask your permission for anything, so was this just the illusion of giving you a choice only to end up as a trap? It felt as if there was always something just out of reach whenever he spoke to you like this, like the fine print in a contract. He was only direct when he was upset, which you’d prefer if you were being honest. Anger you could take — understand, even. But this? You were just spinning your wheels. 

“So, what, I’m not doing the afterlife right, or something?” It had been somewhat of a joke, but the look he gave you was smug.

“That’s precisely what I’m saying. You’ve been dead a few months now, yes? But the moral compass you’re adhering to won’t benefit you here. Take Donny for instance,” he said, eyes brightening as you flinched at the name. “What’s bothering you so much about it? He provoked you, didn’t he? Regale me with your account!”

He made a show of settling in his chair, adjusting his coat and crossing his legs, apparently content to sit for hours if that’s what it took for you to open up. You remembered him asking you to tell him what Donny had done when you were walking back to the hotel yesterday, but wasn’t that just teasing? The expectant look on Alastor’s face begged to differ. 

So you told him.

To your surprise, he sat there and listened as the words spilled from your mouth. Your intent hadn’t been to ramble, but he didn’t seem bothered by it as you took him through the events of yesterday morning. Eventually getting to how you had been so close to making it back in time, only to be cornered and harassed; a sick twist of fate just for wanting to be prepared. He was calm as you told him how Donny had grabbed you and licked the tears off your face, but you could’ve sworn you saw his eye twitch.

“And then I just… lost it, I don’t know,” you sighed, hiding your face in your hands. “I was just so mad! Like who the fuck did he think he was, touching me like that? And my body just reacted before my mind could catch up. But then when it was all over, I…,” you paused and let out a breath, fighting against the turmoil in your stomach from what you were preparing to say next. “I can still feel how my teeth punctured his skin. I can hear the sound it made, even more than the screaming. I didn’t even know I was swallowing it all until…”

You stopped then, the tingling in your throat painful, your coffee long forgotten and cold. He had been there for the rest of it, what more was there to say? Did he really want to know how every sip of liquid or bite of food since then had been nearly-impossible tasks? How you had sobbed in the shower as you watched the blood stream down your legs and into the drain? Or how you barely managed to look yourself in the mirror because it felt like someone else was looking back? Those didn’t seem like details he’d be interested in.

In fact, weren’t they the very things he was inferring your morality had burdened you with? You’d only be making his point for him, and somewhere in your mind you concurred. You didn’t want to be saddled with this misery forever, but the person you always thought you were was slipping away, and you just wanted to cling to whatever pieces you had left. Horror was a welcome pill to swallow. It meant that you hadn’t completely enjoyed what you had done. 

Because part of you had enjoyed it.

You thought of your grandmother again. In life, there had been countless times you made yourself small for the sake of accommodation. No telling how many words had died in your throat because it was easier not to say them. So as you watched her fall out of that godforsaken chair she loved so much, gasping for air that wouldn’t come as she crawled on her hands and knees, you relished it. She had pushed you to your limit and was finally paying the price. Appalling as it was, for the first time in your life you had felt strong. 

Killing Donny hadn’t left you with the same feeling of victory as killing your grandmother had, though. What his intentions for you had been, you’d probably never know, but they definitely weren’t anything good. In that sense you were very glad to have gotten to him first and, to a certain extent, would do it all over again if need be. But none of this was information you felt like confessing to Alastor.

“And here I was, hoping that the cannibals had rubbed off on you,” Alastor mourned, resting his chin in his hand. “So eating him is what’s upset you, not the murder?” You couldn’t ignore the glimmer in his eye or the insinuation behind it.

“You’re generalizing,” you chided, sighing as you crossed your arms. You were feeling very tired now. “But yes, if that answers your question. He’ll heal eventually and he would have hurt me if I hadn’t done what I did.”

“That’s true enough,” he agreed, pushing back from the table to stand. He offered you a hand and you took it, feeling slightly stiff from sitting so long. “I suppose you’re not as hopeless as I thought, but my offer still stands. I think under the right circumstance, you could learn to enjoy it.”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Was that really what you wanted to talk to me about? I’m not trying to eat people for fun.”

Alastor didn’t answer, but his smile was wicked as he took your arm in his as you left the cafe. You did your best not to imagine what thoughts could be passing in his mind, but felt relief all the same seeing him in a better mood again.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The two of you had barely entered the lobby when Angel sprang off the couch in the parlor, looking irritated and worn out. “Fucking finally! We need to—”

Alastor couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only creature in this realm that understood the art of subtlety. Hadn’t the debacle in the elevator been enough for one day? Was he doomed forever to salvage any bit of decorum that he could come across? It was truly lamentable.

“Sylvie, why don’t you go prepare my room for the evening? I’d prefer to speak with Angel alone,” Alastor said, removing your arm from his as he turned to face Angel Dust. He could feel his shadow threatening to separate from him, but scaring the boy would be counterproductive. “Shall we head to yours?”

He ignored your huff of frustration at being dismissed, but was grateful you didn’t fight him on it. It’s not a battle you would have won anyway. As soon as he saw that you were in the elevator, Alastor’s shadow enveloped the two of them, re-materializing in Angel’s room.

“Remind me to never let you do that again,” Angel grimaced, rubbing his arms squeamishly. “I feel dirty, and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

Alastor’s patience was threatening to snap, and he didn’t succeed in maintaining a pleasant tone when he spoke. “Why don’t we discuss whatever it was you were about to shout in the lobby? Or was the urgency just an act?”

Angel scoffed. “Hey, fuck you, all right? I was just tryin’ to help, and now I’ve been roped into your bullshit! Val’s been blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone all afternoon — he said a drone caught you and Sylvie in an alley or some shit?”

Alastor’s eyes went black, his pupils switched to dials. Fuck. This was all happening much sooner than Alastor had planned for. He had originally planned to ask Angel what Valentino had known in regard to Donny, hoping to have the upper hand and confront the cretin on his own terms. But now the ball was in Valentino’s court… and he had brought it upon himself. He just had to go back to that fucking alley earlier, didn’t he? Alastor could feel the rage threatening to consume him, but that would have to wait until he had a moment to himself. 

“What does he want?” he managed to ask without venom, antlers growing despite himself.

“I don’t know, but he won’t quit houndin’ me,” Angel huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed. “He wasn’t even pissed off about Donny, he thought it was funny! That piece of shit barely gets work anyway. But now he knows you’re involved and said he wants to meet up you know where. Whatever the fuck that means…” 

Alastor sighed, eyes returning to red, and wiped off his monocle if only to keep his hands busy. He’d hate to strangle Angel Dust by mistake. It would be difficult to explain, and besides, he wasn’t one to shoot the messenger.

“Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I’ll do what I can to ensure he keeps you out of it going forward,” Alastor said in a clipped voice, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. He disappeared from the room before Angel could respond.

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tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 7 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 (here)

It’s been around a few good months since the attack on the hotel, everything has been quiet around the hotel and you’ve been adapting well to the residents of the hotel. Since you were technically a staff member. Plus, since you’ve confessed to Alastor, things didn’t change much

Was what you wanted to say

You find yourself pulled out of your comfort zone when you’re set to have some form of duty. Then there was your little self-imposed obligation to go on dates with Alastor that suited him. While you were happy Alastor was enjoying your time, you can’t help but find yourself drained by the end of it

Not to mention Charlie’s insistent of your inclusion in her various activities. You really really preferred to be in the comforts of your room watching aime and reading manga or manhwa or whatever they are called

Still though, Alastor always knew when you were burn out from socializing and would put a stop to your suffering. Followed by a relaxing cuddling and anything you prefer. His attitude and behaviour towards you didn’t change all that much if you don’t count the increased intensity and the easiness of making him flustered

Because you and Alastor were a ‘confirmed item’, there were a lot of teasing from the hotel members to which Alastor prides himself on blocking off and you let him. Though there was an odd dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer

What you could describe as a parent or father judging his child’s lover type of deal. An example was you leaning against Alastor while on the lobby couch then Lucifer comes sitting next to you as well and moved you so that you were leaning on him. Or another where they were both preparing your meal and had a contest over, but because they took too long, you made your cup noodles

It was all weird and all, though nothing to stress over. You like staying at the hotel all the same, even though your friendship with them isn’t all that strong compared to what you share between Alastor or Lucifer

“You know, Pager, it got me thinking.” Lucifer started. It was a random quiet and slow day, as rare as it is, Alastor was out in Cannibal Town to gossip with Rosie. Of course he told everyone else he had important business to attend to.

“Yeah? You’re not thinking of making another library themed duck collection, right?” You gave him a suspicious gaze, looking up from your novel. “I’m not accepting those. I have like… a whole shelf of them back home.”

Lucifer awkwardly chuckled, “Okay, I mean, no! Of course not.”

You gave him a look of pure doubt. “If you gave me some and Alastor knew about it, you bet he’ll burn it.”

“Just gotta make them fireproof or something.” Lucifer whispered, but he shook his head and cleared his throat, sounding more professional. “Okay, this is serious! Very!”

Without warning, he suddenly dragged you into a portal of his own and you two arrived in a realm of his making. A realm where everything was golden. You hugged onto him tightly when you realized it was a gold sea below you two. Naturally, you yelled at him for doing this out of the blue

You had him held onto your while you wrote ‘wings’ on your page to form a pair of them behind your back to keep you afloat. You went back to yelling at Lucifer before he gestured to you, saying this was the point

Unable to comprehend, you said of course because you were no angel. Nor did you expect him to just drag you into another realm out of the blue

“What if you didn’t need to write on your pages to get things done?” Lucifer suggested, his wings flapping from time to time to remain in the air over the flowing golden liquid below you two.

“Then I can’t do anything. I’m nothing without my quill and pages or at least a surface to write on.” You answered, pointing to the wings that magically appeared from your words alone. “You know that.”

“I mean as in you don’t use them. Maybe start small, like don’t use your pages and only your quill to write.” Lucifer cryptically explained, you gave him a raised brow and he groaned, “Oh, come on! You watch your little shows, you know what I mean! Writing it in the air and poof!”

You laughed. Yes, you’ve seen these things happen in TV shows and anime, but you never got the chance or want to try it out. You see, you don’t exactly see yourself to have something so overpowered in your skillset or ability list

From what Alastor told, his immense power came from the evil deeds he has done in his years alive. His ticket to Hell had his name when he first killed. Then his power slowly built up from the serial killings he did. Adding to that, there was fraud, manipulation, and corruption. His twisted moral of how a hunter make good use of their prey was way too concerning for you

Cannibalism. He ate his victims as a method of exposing the bodies, well, only the ones he saw were healthy. But still. Then he told you like a storybook before bed how he dug up graves in the bayou where he dump the bodies or put it somewhere noticeable on purpose to catch the attention of the public

Afterwards? He speaks through the microphone in his booth while the radio all over his hometown state listens, he sympathized with the victim and their family and friends, he warned listeners to be careful, he wished the authorities to make quick work in finding and arresting the killer. All while a sick smile was on his face as he made those broadcast

It’s times when he tells you his cruelty that you’re reminded with who you rescued, sure Hell was a piece of work, but Alastor was another story. He’s something straight out of a serial killer movie, but in real life. You can’t question enough how Alastor fell for you and turned to a yandere type as well, but not like you’re regretting it now. He grew on you far too much

In contrast to Alastor’s build-up or something like a pre-register in Hell for power, you’ve done doing to that degree. You didn’t kill others, you aren’t even manipulative, and you definitely wasn’t brave enough to commit some other crimes. If anything, you were a victim

You already can’t understand why you had the power you do now. Alastor theorized before it was due to the fact you love books, but then the question changes to how your powers were this unique. Why were you any to summon and conjure items you understand? 

Alastor can do something similar but it’s just that. Similar. He snaps his fingers and things just appear. There were limits, but something he can’t do was summon angelic steel or weapons like you can

Once you joked how you were actually destined to be in Heaven. That got Alastor into a frenzy. Immediately pinning you down and patting your back to see if there were wings

“A joke! It was just a joke!” You shouted at him, there was that crazed look in his eyes that sent a chill down his spine. Even though you have his soul and limited his powers, he was still the more powerful one between you two.

Alastor blinked and got off of you, his eyes narrowed as his smile shrank, “A poor joke, Darling. Even if you’re destined for Heaven and taken away from me… I will find you and drag you back down to Hell.”

You got Lucifer to bring you back to your room and leave thing as that. You don’t think you can do it, it was a pleasant thought, to be able to do that you’d be more powerful. Then again, you’re not seeking to be powerful. There was nothing for you to fight for. You had Alastor, that was enough

Not in Lucifer’s case though. He kept pestering you on learning, randomly bringing you to his golden realm that you got used to it and just prepared pages with the word ‘wings’ written on it. His persistence caught Alastor’s attention

At first, Alastor was annoyed that Lucifer was trying to spend time with you and to your delight chased Lucifer away, but after you told him what it was about, he was interested to see your power grow as well. Claiming that it was a great opportunity

Of course, he added that it wasn’t due to him doubting he can’t protect you in times of needs, but he didn’t want what happened on that roof to happen again

What if you didn’t have a surface to write on? What if you didn’t have your book with you? What if your pages were wet? What if your quill was taken away from you? What if you were put into a situation where you can’t rely on your pages and quill?

In that sense, Alastor was all for Lucifer’s idea. Since Lucifer was the one to see how your power developed, he was the better supervisor than Alastor. As much as your love hates to admit it. Though he wanted what’s best for you and he thinks you needed this now that you were staying at the hotel where sinners and demons can roam freely

“Fine…” You sighed, “I’ll try your little idea…”

“Yes! Come on! We’re starting training!!” Lucifer opened up the portal with his apple cane. 

“Have a productive time, My Beloved!” Alastor hugged your good luck, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll have your favourites ready when you return.”

And so started with your little power upgrade project

Lucifer spared no expenses when it came to dragging you out of bed from your comfort activities to do more trial and error

It felt like the days when you were back in your living years, having to study and work. The twist was that you enjoy it since it was your first friend from Hell that got you to work. If anyone was in doubt about Lucifer being the King of Hell. He was a hellish tormentor for you

Turns out, that golden realm he has was all under his control and that golden sea could have been dry land. Oh you were so pissed when you learned that. Sure it helped with exercising your wings ability but he could have told you in the first place!

You’re very very tempted to just smack him in the head. But you told yourself not to give into temptation and just be good and get this over with. Lucifer is still the King of Hell and a powerful fallen angel that was leagues above you. You can never compare or try to win over

Alastor, the sweet thing, was always there for you when you needed some comfort or when you didn’t have motivation to continue

He provided you with so much that you thought back to your time alive

When you were down in the dumps and burn out, you longed for someone to be by your side to support you through thick and thin. You thought you had it, but it was a lie you told yourself. You thought that was happiness, it was nothing but a joke you drown yourself in

You truly enjoy your time with Alastor and all that he has given you, devoted to you. You can’t thank him enough

In the end, there was truth to Lucifer’s little theory. You started with plainly writing in the air with your quill, nothing happened naturally. Later on, you started to envision writing on something and it worked just a smidge. You soon learned to see the air as your surface, treat it like there was a hologram of a page there and write on it. Like all those sci-fi movies and TV shows you watched

Letters started to appear in a neon glow, coloured in your signature colour of your aura. In no time, the letters appeared more constant to your writing, then words formed. That was a big step, your next goal was to actually summon something

That took more time to perfect, but you got it since you were past the big goal of writing on nothing or air. The items you summoned grew in size and weight, then you barely managed to summon your angelic weapon. You fainted right after it appeared

You lacked stamina and energy to maintain it after using so much to summon it into existence. A short break was taken before you pushed yourself to continue. Lucifer and Alastor both supported you while reminding you that there was no pressure

No pressure. They actually mean it. It wasn’t a tactic to guilt-trip you into working harder. Figures appeared in your mind but you shook it away. No, you’re doing this because Alastor and Lucifer believes you can do it. You’re doing it not because you were forced. You want to do it

It was when you finally managed to summon an angelic weapon and maintain it for a good while that Lucifer deemed your powers successfully upgraded. Him having to act like a system congratulating your work, it left Alastor confused, but he too praised you for your achievement without giving up

Next step was to not use your quill to write, you already had an idea to use your fingers like a particular anime’s protagonist from long long ago. Maybe you should rewatch it for some more ideas. But there was something else that you never got around to ask

“Oh yeah, why is it that you keep bringing me to this goldy realm of yours?” You poofed away some random objects you summoned with a wave, “Can’t we just do all this in the hotel? It’s big enough for it and we didn’t actually use much space anyways.”

Lucifer groaned, “Oh, no. No~ No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Thats, uh hah, no. Bad idea.”

Your head tilted, “Bad idea? That’s the hotel you rebuilt with the others, right?”

Lucifer would be banging his head from that movement, sadly and unfortunately for him, there was no wall in sight in this weird golden realm. “Yes, but now Charlie let Vox’s people install these screens all over the place and… Arghhh… I had to destroy the TV in my room cause of all the heebie-jeebies I got from it.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, it was like the day before I asked you if you thought of that power upgrade thing.”

No wonder Alastor was more pushy about you staying in your shared room or his radio tower recently. Never letting you away from those areas. Now you understand what it was about. You did wonder why Alastor didn’t tell you, but then you recalled how it was you that have been stressing about the deal with Lucifer and your power, so there was never a chance for him to tell you that

And naturally the other hotel members would assume Alastor told you so they never approached you. Ohhh… You feel like a jerk now

You quickly made your way down to the lobby, easily finding everyone you needed

“Charlie!”

“Oh! You want to join our activity? We’re gonna do some online competition with this new—”

“No, Charlie, why did you accept VoxTech’s stuff?” You questioned immediately, stepping between the group and the large screen. 

“Vox was sponsoring us! He gave us so much help! He even had his employees install everything around the hotel.” Charlie praised, though you noticed how her eyes stayed glued to what was behind her. The others all nodded in agreement, seemingly in a trance.

Your eyebrows furrowed, you looked behind you, just a peek was enough to see that Vox had been hypnotizing them to say good things about him. You glared at the screen, showing Vox and his hypnotic eye. This doesn’t work on you. “Alastor!”

“Darling!” Alastor appeared through the shadows, immediately turning you away from the screen as his hands held your face so that you stare at him, “Did he do anything to you?”

“It’s okay, hypnosis has no effect on me.” You spoke through squished cheeks, you squeeked when Alastor stole a peck before releasing you. You blush, never will you get used to this, you peeked around your lover, seeing the group recover. “Alastor, destroy all VoxTech products in this hotel. No matter how big or small.”

Alastor’s grin grew, “With pleasure.”

You wrote ‘recovery’ on your pages and restored the gang back to conscious minds. You would try your newest technique, but this was more concerning since it was on someone other than you

When the group snapped back to their senses, Charlie and Vaggie shouted at you for what you told Alastor to do. You argued back that they weren’t even aware that they were mind controlled by Vox, it was a matter of time before they were mere puppets. You pointed over to Angel who’s boss, Valentino was Vox’s partner, and Angel backed you up easily

Lucifer offered his thoughts on the matter as well, claiming that’s why he doesn’t watch TV that often. He didn’t want to say anything because the hotel was Charlie’s and it was her decision on what she does with it

You went on to warning them how controlling and unseemingly evil Vox could get, he truly is manipulative with that perfect CEO outlook he gave everyone around him. When things don’t go his way, he was sure to retaliate like a baby throwing a tantrum. You relate with Alastor on how you two view Vox. Truly, you wonder why he was accepted as an Overlord with that personality of his

From this the group honestly saw how you were once an informant for Lucifer. You speak your mind, acting swiftly and precisely. Your knowledge on other demons, Overlords even, was a deadly weapon at your disposal. Your secretive nature made things more complicated since you wouldn’t be one to share unless necessary

Alastor praised and sang you words of flattery at your action, even though he was the one that did all the work. You merely had to drag him to your level and kiss him to shut him up, then you two went back to your shared room to cuddle while having your movie night

Charlie and Vaggie cut all contacts with Vox and his company, warning him to stay away from the hotel if and when he has ill-intention to associate with it

“F**k!” Vox slammed his fist onto the table, his screen face glitched with error messages as his rage continued to raise. All his cameras and speakers in the Hazbin Hotel was gone, the connection wasn’t merely lost, it was completely gone. 

He didn’t expect someone with authority to make Alastor destroy them all. He thought the bleeding princess will keep him at bay, and he was so close to finding out about that figure on the roof that day. Someone that protected Alastor and removed all the eyes he had to watch that battle.

“Pages…” Vox mumbled, he tugged on a chain that suddenly appeared. A contract chain. “You better stop meddling in my plans!”

“It wasn’t me! I swear!” The pulled in figure cried, her long hair covering her crying face, “I’ve been here all this time! How can I do anything!?”

Vox glared, pulling on the chain until it was choking her, “Well, it’s not everyday you see a sinner with the power to command pages to do their bidding, right? Who else if not for you? Huh?”

The female demon cried and sobbed more, “It wasn’t me, it really wasn’t… Don’t punish me…”

Vox eyed his giant tank with aquatic creatures, his grin grew, “Yeah, I think you need some reminding.” He told his little weak contracted soul to his eye level, “Who it is that owns you, you don’t get to decide. Copy-Kat.”

Note: Hi hi everyone!! This is back from a bit of a pause (as you can tell, I've been working on another series). Though this part might not be as good as you'd like. But necessary for the future parts. Haha~

The requests sent a long time ago on the Reader's/your past acquaintances and interaction with Vox will be added to the parts after this! Or treated as trivia when direct contact is made!

Give this series a warm welcome back~

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

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

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @nevermore-ramblings @justboredforreal @youroneandonlysimp @falsemain @scenteddelusion5 @anni1600 @readergirlstuff @salutations-demonsanddappers @mistpurpl3 @haruskrd @biadoll21 @speedycoffeedelight @wendds @paninibit @emperatris-rinaka @lucifers-silhouette @an-idyllic-novelist

[lunarmango]

Flickering Lights

Chapter Two is here and in Al's POV!! Though it is a tad shorter I'm quite proud of it! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

TW: None, just Alastor being a pissy, whiny baby.

Chapter Two: Alastor the Radio Demon

Being in hell for a little over a decade does things to people. On earth, there was no such thing as literal power. Power came in the form of money. Money came from knowledge. Or luck, one might say. Either way, it was a huge change when leaving it behind. One that Alastor was more than happy to adapt to.

Being a murderer on earth was fun sure. The thrill of only being mortal as you hunt down someone far too similar to yourself for your liking. Running, sprinting, panting, knowing death could take you anytime if it wanted it so. Stalking the victim, killing ruthlessly to those who earned it almost as if you’re karma incarnate. Positively thrilling memories he holds dear to his heart, as gore filled and dangerous as some of the hunts were, those memories never failed to disappoint.

In hell? It was different. Power was only held by those who were either wise or trained, the unique powers being something surreal, only heard of in books down on earth. As an atheist, Alastor sure got a kick out of going to hell, at first a little intimidated however when he discovered the possible extent of his powers? It was an unforgettable experience. Meeting his victims from earth once more, venturing further into hell with nothing but him and his staff, going on rampages most people would pray to never witness. The rush in his veins was incomparable. Taking down one overlord after another only made him more feral in his hunt for as much power as possible. Giving hell to those who rightfully earned it.

On earth he’s a murderer.

In hell he feels like God.

Still growing accustomed to the burning underworld, something he had not fully accepted yet was the fact that he took the form of a prey animal. How awfully ironic. Soft ears, fuzzy horns and a swishing tail, the same features as a meek deer. Each sensitive in their own way every time they flick or brush against something, reminding him of their presence, making him mentally cringe. Though he is still growing accustomed to hiding his emotions through his tail and ears, his smile never faltered. He would never afford disappointing his mother in any shape or form. Though they’re worlds apart he'll honour her eternally in the ways he knows best.

Situated in a small cottage on the edge of Cannibal Town that his new friend Rosie was ever so kind to provide him with, it had everything he could possibly need. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room and study. It wasn’t home, since nothing could compare to when he would arrive home to the warm smell of his mother’s cooking, the furniture each tailored to his mothers liking. But it was a start, and he wasn’t one to complain… much.

Although he doesn’t technically need to sleep every night since his stamina was in abundance compared to how it was on earth, it was nice to have those little habits that take him back and relieve him of his worries. Letting him forget. This morning, he goes downstairs, his hooves tapping on the wooden floor as he walks down, eager to broadcast his weekly collection of screams to his lovely waiting audience.

He freezes.

The controls were tampered with. A few switches and dials turned astray. Needless to say, Alastor was fuming, a heavy huff from his chest as his crimson red eyes scan the room for anything else out of place. Quickly walking up to his panel, his ears stick to the back of his skull as his eyes flicker into a pitch black, both with a red glowing radio dial in the middle.

It seems his next broadcast consisting of screams was going to air much sooner than usual.

Speaking of which, his mind immediately asks himself if they aired anything on his channel. Lost in concentration, his features return to normal. He turns on the panel, flipping the switches back to normal, turning and fine tuning all the different controls to fit what he was going to air, a small annoyed grumble vibrating from his chest from who dared to enter and disturb his sacred workspace.

Headphones didn’t really work with deer ears, much to his distaste, so he had to resort to using a techy speaker. A particularly new one by the brand VoxTech, owned by none other than the television demon Vox. They’ve talked once or twice in the past, though Vox didn’t really appreciate when Alastor called him Box by accident a few times.

It was an honest mistake.

The man literally had a bright box for a face.

His thoughts trail off to how exactly the person that had tampered with his panel was going to suffer when suddenly, his ears turn to the speaker on instinct, a voice emerging and capturing his attention, asking if he was eager to hear their voice, the speech ever so quiet. Did they even know they have to stand near the microphone for it to work?

Enough.

He needed to rid hell of this pest.

Slowly turning up the volume dial, eager to hear all or any information this person had to share, Alastor clears his throat and speaks into his own microphone. “Hello, dear broadcaster.”

No reply.

Honestly, how rude can one person get? Were they even aware who they were dealing with? How did they even get on the same channel? He never collaborates with anyone, it’s his hard work and he won’t stand someone else tampering with it and messing up his schedule!

He took a deep breath.

Luckily, they weren’t airing anything. Which is a start.

Were they doing this on purpose for his attention?

How foolish.

Baring his teeth and gums in annoyance from the extremely loud volume, your voice booms through the speaker as Alastor quickly reaches out to turn the volume back to normal. So you’ve finally figured out what a microphone was?

Oh right, you had asked a question.

Could he hear you? Sure he can.

A scoff. He couldn’t NOT hear you from how loud he had set the volume. He decided to speak up, his ears perking up and chest puffing out as he sat straight in his chair, clearly proud to introduce himself to this clueless being, knowing his name will very well strike delicious fear into them. He was positively infamous in the pride ring after all.

“Of course I can hear you my dear, Im Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure!”

Still no response.

It came to his realisation that he should be asking them the same question you had asked.

“Can you hear me my dear?”

Another frustratingly quiet pause.

Clearly not.

An exasperated sigh from Alastor as he slumps back in his cushioned office chair in defeat. Then it came to him. Their panels and equipment were connected, right? Eagerly sitting back up he flicks the lights above the dial on and off, hoping his prey wasn’t so naive as to think it’s merely coincidence.

A reply asking if he really can hear him, their voice now lacking any and all confidence that they once had. Alastor knows the sound of fear when he hears it, an ear splitting grin widening across his face. Was it really that hard to believe that in hell, a place only made of contradictions, some magical source connected them?

It seems that fate has brought him a new plaything.

Oh this was going to be fun.

Until he didn’t hear anything from you for the rest of the day.

_________________________________________

Taglist! <3 - @nyx91, @speedycoffeedelight, @sirens-and-moonflowers

Make sure to comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride, Shana! 🏳️‍🌈☺️💕

Please, I need more of your Jim and Sybok buddy fic!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

Sybok double checks Jim's numbers, then triple checks them, and normally that would get him a some sarcastic indignation, but instead Jim just paces and rubs his hands against his thighs and simultaneously looks his age and at the same time far too old.

"The ion storms are unpredictable," he says finally. "It's possible we'll be able to get a signal out to Starfleet before the spring."

"Well, anything's possible," Jim agrees. "Seventy three years of ion storm data says it's not fucking likely, though." He runs his hands through his hair. "The season just started, if I'd started a few weeks ago, we could have got a message out before the storms rolled in-"

"Hey," he says sharply. "We're lucky you discovered it this early. We can start conserving food now, and maybe - maybe we'll get lucky again."

Fall has just started, the season of harvest that gets them through the austere winter. Tarsus IV doesn't get cold, not like it can on Earth, but it does get dry. Sybok had actually been looking forward to the winter, since the climate would more closely resemble what he grew up with on Vulcan.

That had been when he'd though food would be abundant, if a combination of heavily salted and flash frozen.

Jim gives him a look that reminds him, horribly, of his father. "What's the official Vulcan stance on luck again?"

He glares. "It is illogical to ignore the possibility of survival just because of a low probability."

"That's not it and you know it," he laughs, humorless.

"Maybe we can develop some sort of pesticide to save the remaining crops.

Jim's reaction is pure offense, which is at least an improvement on hopelessness. "Okay, I didn't graduate from the VSA, but I did run these experiments myself, you know. It's all already infected almost all of our crops. They're a goner, and everyone is going to figure that out in a couple of weeks when everything rots from the inside out."

Yeah. They can probably synthesize something to counteract these parasites for the next planting season, but that depends on them being around come spring.

"We won't all die," Sybok says quietly, because many planets have endured similar circumstances in their past, however distant. "There are always survivors."

Jim presses his lips together. "Yeah. Because Vulcans' strict vegetarian diet really lends itself it to cannibalism."

Sybok's stomach rolls but he keeps his face neutral. "Technically, as I am the only Vulcan on planet, it would not be cannibalism."

There are always survivors, but their survival comes at a price. He already knows that it's a price he's unwilling to pay.

He should have listened to Amanda.

[originalaccountname]

Oh, I think I got it for the first time. The "virus" is killing the host through unbalancing/turning the body's microfauna against its host and destroy their organs, hence the "cannibalism" (you're technically eating yourself), and works in tandem between two hosts so if one dies, the other will be saved.

And Dazai would have needed to touch the organs directly to cancel the ability, which is bad for the victim already, but I guess it's implied this virus is very real and contagious if touched directly? So Dazai could have caught it even without the ability?

[yeuc-c]

Is split against the consumption of bananas? And if she ate one would it be cannibalism

She doesn't really mind as she isn't technically a banana.

Nope!

[hydrangea-bouquet]

Sansa, in a few years, doing PR campaign for House Stark:

Sansa: We are good people, perfectly nice and civilized, certainly not brimming with vengeance. We do not eat children in this house. All our meats are ethically sourced and we let them mature before we harvest them.

Sansa: What? Jojen Reed? Well, he was technically a teenager, wasn't he? He was also really mature for his age, Old Nan did call him 'little grandfather' so he wasn't a child at all. And it was full of consent! He knew it was going to happen!

Sansa: Cannibalism? Now that is just culinary racism. We need to stop this prejudice against certain ethnic group because they have a different diet from us. Eating a different type of meat does not make them savages, it's just cultural differences.

Sansa: Just because two members of our family turned into a zombie does not mean that it's genetic, you know. It's the circumstances that were to blame. And you can't blame them and us on their actions! They were zombies, after all. And no, we are not secretly resurrecting Ned Stark from the dead. We don't have his bones. Not that we are going to try if we have them, of course, even if it would be nice for Mother to have a zombie husband, maybe it would calm all that rage she has. You know what I mean, right?

Sansa: Uncle Benjen? He's just on a sightseeing tour beyond the Wall, definitely not turning into a zombie or anything.

Sansa: Yes, my sister did try to join a death cult, but she's just a little girl. Girls think about homicide all the time. And Arya was grieving! It's a perfectly healthy coping mechanism. What was she supposed to do when she was all alone? Wallow in despair and give in to her grief? It's not even like she succeeds joining them anyway.

Sansa: Me? No, I didn't murder the King nor was I aware of any murder plot against him. I didn't even have the means for new dresses, how could I procure such potent poison for murder? I was a political hostage with no power. Are you really going to trust Cersei Lannister on this? I mean, believe what you will, but she's not really a credible source, isn't she?

Sansa: And see? I don't have bat wings at all.

[roz-ani]

One issue I don't quite get and want to briefly comment on is the idea that Alastor has to be either an old-school villain who's just evil for the sake of being evil, or more of an antagonist with actual depth, emotions, and traumatic backstory to explain his actions, letting the audience relate to him. I think we're going to extremes here. We don't have to go, "Oh, I understand why he would do that". The main goal is for us to say, "Oh, so that's his deal".

While we don't know exactly what Alstor's deal is, what the exact terms of his contract are etc., he is, without a doubt, the most complex character in the show. He's in a unique position since he technically helps Charlie achieve her goal, but it's obvious he's in it for selfish reasons, with some grander scheme going on behind the scenes. May he eventually be the one the main cast will have to fight at some point? Sure. Would it be even more fun because he is a part of the said cast? Absolutely.

Let's get one thing straight: Alastor is evil. He's in Hell for a good reason. He's a cannibal and a serial killer. And I know we can absolutely forgive characters for doing the absolute worst, but he is not a good person. And yes, you can like (and simp for) evil characters. (If you think being a fan of intriguing fictional creations makes you a terrible person, you need to get off twitter and tiktok to actually interact with real people.) At the same time, the finale of season 1 simply made it clear that Al does have depth, and that he's going to be a three-dimensional character. Not that his actions are going to be suddenly justified.

But why can't we explore evil characters while enjoying them and letting them be evil? We can. Alastor started his carnage in Hell before making his deal, so it's not the main reason behind his less-than-questionable actions. For now, he's looking for freedom so he can (re)gain power and be in control again. At the same time, he is growing attached to the other characters. I highly doubt he'll be redeemed; we'll just learn more about him, his backstory, and his goals.

Can you even call Al an antagonist? If you ask me, he's more of an anti-hero. Heck, do we know who he is? Not really, and that's the point. He's one of the main characters, but he makes himself separate in both the story and the writing. He's a wild card.

We don't know what's coming for the Radio Demon in season 2. The first one established that there's more to him and that he started growing fond of the other characters, while the finale made Al realise it almost got him killed. He was humiliated and it reminded him even more that he's still under someone else's control. At least, that's how I see it. Alastor may become more sinister as the story progresses, and as he's getting more and more desperate to free himself of the contract. AT THE SAME TIME, he did come back to the Hotel with a smile and consent for a group hug, so it's not like he's going to blow it up in the first episode. He's not against the Hotel itself. He's doing his own thing, knowing that the titular establishment is an inherent part of his story. All paths lead to the Hazbin Hotel. My guess is that he will simply become more active.

Alastor is already a three-dimensional character; there is no doubt about that. But it's not like he's getting reckoned here. I don't really understand where this notion of our Radio Demon being an old-school villain came from in the first place. He's always been a mystery. Okay, maybe in the pilot it was not so clear-cut, and I'll admit, it would be fun to just see the Radio Demon as a powerful entity overlooking the hotel for his own pleasure. Turning him into a villain later on? Meh, depends on what would happen in the story if that were the case. Watching Jack Horner in "Puss in Boots", reminded me how much I missed villains that were not an initial antagonist's evil-incarnate-superior. However, it was quite quickly established that there is more to Alastor. He would have to appear pretty rarely to not go through any character arc in a show with such an ambitious storyline as Hazbin Hotel (and what a delightful character would we lose if that was the direction the writing team would have taken?). I would mention the pacing actually harming that development, but it's clear this is the show's biggest problem, and we just have to take things for granted.

If anything, Alastor is being restrained from being purely evil. To me, he's a combination of both of the character types I mentioned at the beginning, leaning more toward the well-developed anti-hero. Just let evil characters be evil and three-dimensional.