#that one radiodust print | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flower123wf · 5 years ago

Text

What Your Favourite Hazbin Hotel Ship Says About You

Varlie / Chaggie : You’re a fan of being gay, sticking to canon and keeping it wholesome

Charlastor / Chalastor : Your ideal date involves wacky hijinks, after which hilarity ensues. Also, you made a fan-child for this ship

RadioDust : You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of not wanting your dick sucked

Alastor / Husk : You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of getting dunked on

Cherri Bomb / Sir Pentious : You are a firm believer of MEN👏GETTING👏PEGGED👏

HuskerDust / AngelHusk : This is like RadioDust but you also want good things for Angel Dust and really, who wouldn’t?

SpiderMoth : Your ideal relationship dynamic is flirt/tsundere, also you’ve been around the fandom long enough to know Vaggie and Angel Dust were planned to be a couple during development

Katie Killjoy / Tom Trench : You laugh at below-the-belt slapstick comedy, or you watch anime where the main love interest is a raging tsundere

Vagastor / Vaggstor : You wish a woman would just hold her blade against your neck, and would it be too much to ask for her to slightly tilt your chin with it?

Lucifer / Alastor : One day you decided, “You know what’s better than one fucked up edgy boi? Two fucked up edgy boiz!”

Vaggie / Charlie / Alastor : Man fuck a ship war, you’re just here for a hell of a time

CharlieDust : You weren’t surprised when this didn’t show up at first, and you are a sucker for bad boys getting soft for the personification of sunshine

SirDust : You just love the thought of Sir Pentious getting blushy like a shoujo protagonist

CherriDust : You think ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ is a severely underrated relationship dynamic

RadioSnake : This is like SirDust but kinkier

Chusk / Hurlie : You love the ‘Savvy Guy and Energetic Girl’ trope

Charlie / Sir Pentious : You’re convinced a villain should take a day off from their world domination plan to have tea with the hero

CharlieBomb : You don’t understand why the preps and punks have to fight each other when they could just kiss each other

Vaggie / Charlie / Cherri Bomb : You could never miss the pun of CHARLIE’S ANGELS, also Kristen Stewart can step on you and you’d say thanks

Angel Dust / Alastor / Lucifer : You think nothing else says ‘boys will be boys’ quite like a bunch of chaotic frat boys with homoerotic tension

Tom Trench / Angel Dust : One of your favourite AU prompts is one person reluctantly going to a stripper club and falling in love with someone after a lap dance

AlZy : Ya like jazz?

Lilith / Lucifer : You aspire to have a relationship like Morticia and Gomez Addams

Lucifer / Angel Dust : You are a weeaboo who wants to fuck dads

Angel / Charlie / Vaggie : You always ship the trio of best friends in every show

Vaggie / Sir Pentious : You are a morosexual, any amount of big dummy energy from someone can and will leave you thinking about having a romantic candlelit dinner with them

Alastor / Niffty : You’re all for evil villains and their goofy, loyal sidekicks

Niffty / Husk : This is like Hurlie but with more of a height difference and the girl had a metric fuck-ton of caffeine

(26/11) EDIT:

Angel Dust / Lilith : You know Charlie’s mom has got it going on *Stacy’s Mom plays*

Husk / Vaggie : You think there is no power that brings people together stronger than the mutual hate of one (1) deer man

Niffty / Sir Pentious : You want Niffty and the Egg Bois to kickstart an official fan club, complete with embarrassing photos of Sir Pentious printed on t-shirts

Lilith / Alastor : Either you theorised that Alastor is Lucifer in disguise OR you’re favourite couple’s song is The Masochism Tango

Baxter / Niffty : You enjoy the idea of short gremlins teaming up to dismantle the corrupt hierarchy set by tall people, preferably by busting kneecaps

Angel Dust / Baxter : You’re just here for some twinks

Charlie / Niffty : You’re just here for some femmes

Cherri Bomb / Crymini : You’re just here some butches

Cherri Bomb / Niffty / Crymini : You’re just here for a whole lotta hot pink

Crymini / Angel Dust : You’re a sucker for bad peeps who don’t play by the rules

Vaggie / Cherri Bomb : You believe there’s nothing more attractive in this world than women who can fuck your shit up

The Gay Egg Bois : You’re one of those people who post pictures captioned “Yeah we gay, keep scrolling”

(6/12) EDIT:

Egg Bois / Sir Pentious : You just want good things for the Egg Bois and it involves getting shot with his ray gun

Vaggie / Crymini : You think the concept of ‘opposites attract’ is highly overrated

Vaggie / Niffty : You think the concept of ‘opposites attract’ could not be highly rated enough

Alastor / Human Alastor : You’re crippling addiction for Alastor got so bad, you had to resort to taking the phrase ‘love yourself’ to its logical extreme

(16/12) EDIT:

Husk / Arackniss : You think there is no bond that brings people together stronger than the mutual exasperation of one (1) slutty spider

(26/01/20) EDIT:

CharVox : You like the pervert/cinnamon roll dynamic AND you want to see Alastor get jelly

Vox / Alastor : You like the concept of bickering married couples, but you love the bickering aspect more

VoxVal : Your favourite dynamic is just assholes being assholes together

Valentino / Alastor / Vox : This is basically a dommy competition for who can lewd Alastor first

Crymini / Baxter / Arackniss : You ignore the main cast in favor of quirkier side characters

ValAngel : You’re just like “*slaps Angel Dust* this boi can fit so much angst in him!”

4K notes · View notes

paper-stars-and-fireflies · 4 years ago

Text

Tell me, should I let you go?

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

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

#radiodust #Trans!Angel Dust

99 notes · View notes