#this last building up Vox’s image

[the-no-name-of-nowhere]

Idea on how Alastor met toon/cockroach Vox.

Imagine Alastor, bored out of his mind on day, hearing rumors about a sinner that had recently fallen making an image for himself.

People have said that this sinner is a towering monster that can move at incredible speeds and can lift things 2x his size. There’s even speak of him having the ability to warp reality at his will and being able to conquer things out of thin air, despite not being an overlord.

Which his interest peaked, and having not much to lose, Alastor decided to go and see if can find this demon. (What he’d do after? Who knows. He’d either fight him, make him an ally, see he can make a deal with him, or have him for a meal. Anyway it goes, it will be fun.) So, he headed over to where said demon was know to be spotted often.

But nothing looked to be out of the ordinary. It didn’t seem like someone was trying to take over the area or anything “reality warping” was going on. Though, Alastor is not one to be easily discouraged, so he continued with his search.

While walking by an alleyway, he heard something banging around inside of the dumpster in it. Curiosity got the best of him, and he went to see what it was. What he found was a small sinner with a picture box for a head trapped inside it.

Before he could get a word in edge wise, the little demon started to talk a mile a minute, complaining about these “dumbass demons” and how they “don’t knowing how good some of these parts are” before running off to god knows where; without acknowledging Alastor’s presence.

He decided to call it quits for today and try again tomorrow.

For the next week, Alastor kept going back to that area, hoping to finally the person everyone was talking about. But his searches always ended in vain. Instead, he kept running into the picture box headed; Vox, he learned his name was, from before.

He found Vox quite interesting. From his hyper personality to his rambles about his interests. He even learned that Vox was bit of an inventor, and that’s he was in the dumpster when they met, he was scavenging for parts. All in all, he was fun to have around for a drink or two.

Alastor never did find demon those rumors followed, but they were probably just that, rumors.

It wasn’t until one day, while out on a walk, he comes across Vox being mugged by a trio of sinners.

He was just about to help–you can never have too many favors in your back pocket, you know?–when the most unexpected thing happened.

As the leader of the trio was about to shoot Vox, the little sinner stuck his finger into the chamber of the gun and, instead of losing his finger, the bullet shot out the back of the gun and into the leader’s head.

This stunned everyone, including Alastor, with Vox ample time to take toy with them before killing them.

While mad little display, something occurred to Alastor. That Vox, the man who sometimes needs help getting on top of barstools, the man who willingly roots through garbage just to get some parts for his latest gizmo, was the one he was looking for.

Now, as Vox takes out the last sinner standing with a birthday cake using sticks of dynamite for candles, Alastor believes he found something truly entertaining in a long while.

[storm-angel989]

Dude, what about a Valentino x Daughter! Reader where they forget the door open or something like that, and she decides to go out (she's like, 3/4 years old) and when she comes back, she's holding a random cat and wants to keep it. I think it would be pretty funny lol

Also, i love your content!! 💕

THIS IS A DOUBLE.

Because in my tiredness last night I posted to the incorrect answer <3

“What do you mean you can’t find the baby?” Valentino screamed as he slammed his hands into Vox’s desk. “Where the fuck is my daughter?

In front of him, images flashed. Inside the building, outside, all throughout pentagram city. A still screen time stamped five minutes ago of his daughter wandering out the backdoor, propped open with nothing more than a wedge of cardboard. 

“I told those fuckers,” Vox began. 

“Find her, now,” Valentino cut him off. “I don’t care what you do, I’m going outside to…”

“Daddy, kitty!” 

Both men turned around to where Reader stood, cradling a black and white cat. They both stared at her in a mix of horror and disbelief. 

“Bebita, are you okay?” Valentino demanded as he ran to his daughter.

She took a step back. “Daddy no. You’ll scare kitty.”

Valentino stared at the creature clutched in his daughter's arms. Not only was the cat almost as big as she, but it truly was being held in a toddler’s death grip incredibly well. 

“Where the fuck did you find a cat?” He demanded. 

“Outside,” Reader replied nonchalantly. “Kitty needs home.”

“Oh fuck no, kitty does not need a home,” Vox began.

An expression crossed Valentino’s face. He stood up and turned to Vox.“You’re the one who lost my daughter. You tell her she can’t keep it. And no cheating.”

Vox set his jaw and stared at his niece and her newfound companion. “Reader. Sweetheart. You can’t…give Uncle Voxxy the cat.” He knelt down and reached out as if to take the cat from his arms.

To his dismay, the cat hissed.

“My kitty!” She yelled. “My kitty!”

“You know what, fine. Keep the cat, I don’t care,” Vox said with defeat. “I can’t say no to you.”

“My kitty!” Reader sang as she turned away. “My kitty need snack. Daddy? Snacks.”

Valentino glanced at Vox with an amused expression on his face. He turned away to follow his daughter back to the elevator.

“Your responsibility now,” he said aloud to Vox. “Feed it. Clean it. And if something happens to it, its on you.”

“Fuck me,” Vox groaned as the door shut. “Fuuuuccckkkkk”

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike (Part 9)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis, then into the arms of the Radio Demon himself. The final instalment in the Lookalike series (well, maybe there's room for a little epilogue as a treat)- I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride! 

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, Alastor X reader, Vox x reader, Alastor x Vox, threesome reader is in Hell for a reason, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Who am I? The question chewed at the edge of Vox’s psyche through his ride back to the tower, and through his day. Yeah, who were you? Who the fuck turned up in Hell looking like a freshly minted Radio Demon? Who were you that Alastor was willing to put his signature red tailcoat on your back? Vox swore to himself as he returned to the covert footage of you. Not for the sex, no. But the audio. Sweet nothings on your lips behind closed doors, your unguarded words intended for Alastor’s ears only.

“Oh? You were an antiquarian?”

“Close. I used to curate a museum.”

Vox grinned to himself. It wasn’t much of a clue to your identity, sure, but he also knew the date of your death pretty much to the day. That narrowed it down a lot. One of Voxtek’s most lucrative activities was keeping track of the dead- through obituaries and missing person reports from the living world. More people than not ended up in Hell, and there was always money to be made tracking down a new arrival. Vox put a search out for museum curators dead or missing in the last month, and, on a hunch, narrowed it to the US.

There were a handful of candidates, but running an eye over the list, there was only one person you could be, realistically speaking. Only one museum that you could have run.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all,” you spoke to yourself under your breath, words buzzing behind your teeth in practiced harmony as you walked, the phrasing coming to you without thinking after years of practice, to help you slide into the transatlantic accent. “To the Louisiana Historical Radio Museum.”

The territory that Kennedy claimed as overlord wasn’t far from the hotel, so you walked it, the smell of burning plastic cooling on the evening air. You had a smile on your lips as you strolled, humming an old jazz standard. Sinners cringed, backing into dark alleys and doorways to avoid being in your path, and you twirled your cane. Your resemblance to Alastor was more a hindrance than a benefit here, in that it curtailed several possible avenues of approach. Difficult to form a friendly connection, or talk your way into someone’s home, when you wore an outfit synonymous with the word monster. But that was probably just as well- you were hungry for a kill, and desperation was a quality that people could smell a mile off. Besides, your new body did afford some advantages, ones you had spent your weeks at the hotel honing.

Stepping into one of the back alleys and letting the shadows shroud your form, you pressed your talons to the wall. Sharp and strong, they found purchase, and you scaled the side of the building within a few seconds, crawling up and onto the roof. That was a feat that you would have struggled to replicate with your human body, but here you were a different creature, all sharp edges and horrid, grinning points.

The first thing Vox did after finding your name was to check for it on the Voxtek systems.

There were certainly a lot of people down here who wanted to find you. Most names popped up with half a dozen requests, tops- usually immediate family, a lover. You had… huh, that was a lot. And over how many years? Vox felt his screen lag slightly as he scanned the names. None of them relations. Older than you, or close in age. Unless you were the world’s greatest Lothario and all these guys were queuing up for a post mortem hook-up, there was only one kind of person who got this kind of ask list before they died.

“Jesus tittyfucking Christ,” said Vox, mostly to himself. What the fuck had Val been thinking, dumping you on his bedroom floor without so much as a background check? No wonder Alastor liked you so much.

Years of practice had taught you that killing was more art than science; that the most thorough of preparations could be derailed in an instant and that opportunities would present themselves, if you just allowed them. The universe opened itself to those who were generous, and if you left yourself flexible to the how, the act itself was often simply a matter of having the guts to do what the moment needed. This didn’t mean that the task before you didn’t fill you with trepidation, however- quite the contrary. Kennedy was bigger than you physically, an overlord when you were not, and you had little understanding of how or why physical capabilities varied from sinner to sinner. Niffty, for example, was deceptively strong despite her small size- you had seen her do things like break the lock on the cabinet behind the bar in search of bugs to kill.

You had overpowered Alastor, briefly, but that was with angelic wire and the element of surprise, Alastor with a wound across his chest. Relying solely on physical superiority wasn’t smart, and neither was picking a situation where Kennedy could fight back.

Alastor clearly thought you were up to the task. He’d given you his red tailcoat to wear, and you could tell how precious it was to him, from the way he fretted over the way it hung, the ragged edges on the tails. He wouldn’t have let you wear it if he thought you would fail. But his confidence in you was no reason to be foolhardy.

You stalked from roof to roof across the overlord’s territory, noting the deployment of the soldiers in Kennedy’s livery. They loitered, undisciplined, at street corners and food stands, harassing passing sinners, but they were out in force.

“Ugh, there you are.” It took you a second to realize the billboard was talking to you, another to realize it had Vox’s face, scowling at you from an ad for Vox brand soda. “Why the fuck don’t you have a phone yet?

“Maybe because I don’t want people knowing where I am at all times? Not that that seems to be working.” You walked to the edge of the roof, gauging the distance with your eyes, and leapt the width of the narrow alleyway to the next building, landing with a bark of laughter, a giddy feeling in your chest. In your previous life, parkour hadn’t been so much a hobby as an occasional necessity, but your new body took to it with aplomb, your feet finding their place with a flex of your new ankles and knees.

“Seems like yesterday that you could barely walk, now look at you.” Vox leered at you from a second billboard as you walked the roof, long shadows and sharp angles. On top of your head your antlers thrummed, branching in the darkness.

You glanced up. “You helped me find my feet. I’m grateful,” you said, and felt your smile grow wider as a blush, an actual, honest-to-god blush bloomed on Vox’s wide, rectangular face before you turned away, leaping a second alley. Oh, you were graceful now.

“Hey! Can you stand still for one fuckin’ second? I wanna talk to you.” Vox was on the billboard on top of this building now, his face taking the place of the chef in an ad for Voxtek brand ovens.

You relented, squatting down by the frame that supported the billboard, checking out the layout of the streets below and hooking your cane across the back of your shoulders. “Can it wait? I have plans tonight.”

“Oh, fuck my life.” Vox shook his head and you watched with interest as the giant chef on the billboard crouched down to the bottom on the frame. “Of course you’re going after fucking Kennedy.” It was curious, how his demeanor had changed since the overlord’s meeting- there, he’d been keen to scare you, telling you at length about Kennedy’s powers and deeds- but now he seemed resigned to your hunt. What had changed? Had he actually talked to Alastor?

Your plan for tonight had been to scope out his living arrangement, maybe a little stalking, but Vox didn’t need to know that. Instead, you asked a question. “Are you going to stop me?”

Vox raised an eyebrow, the virtual plate of venison behind him steaming. “The fuck would I stop you, baby deer? Hell���s most wanted making their spectacular debut?”

Hell’s most wanted? You felt your ears flatten to your skull, a shiver in your gut. What the fuck did Vox know? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Now, now.” Vox grinned, a glint in his eye. “If you wanna pretend to be Alastor, you’ve gotta smile at least,” he said, and you reached to your face, finding your mouth a single, serious line. You corrected it as Vox continued. “Yeah, there’s a few south americans with a longer list of victims than yours, but I think I’m entitled to some fucking creative license on this, ya know.”

He knew. He had your identity, somehow. And likely the names of the people you had killed who had ended up in Hell. Which would be all of them, if there was any justice in the universe. You breathed out, slow and even, careful to keep your smile in place this time. “Alright. What do you want?”

“Why didn’t you kill me in my sleep?” Vox asked. You thought he was joking at first, but the expression in his eyes told you otherwise. You thought of the nights you’d spent with him, body curled round his, your cheek against the lower edge of his screen. He had been completely unguarded in those moments, and you had been his prisoner.

You gave Vox a puzzled smile. “You were giving me orgasms and food, why the fuck would I kill you?”

“Oh.” If anything, Vox seemed taken aback by your response. Was that more pink and red on his screen? “I, uh- I could do that again.”

“Was that all? You’re not going to threaten me?” You stood, spinning your cane around your wrist. “Like I said, I do have things to do tonight.”

“Now, wait! Wait just one goddamn second, baby deer.” Vox followed you across the billboard as you walked. “I can help.”

That did make you pause. In the mortal world you would have refused without a second thought- an accomplice was a witness and a liability. But here? In Hell, there was no law enforcement save what the overlords dispensed. You would never have asked Vox for a favor, but if he was going to offer his services? For free? Alastor would probably be sniffy about it, but who could blame you for making use of all the resources at your disposal? You looked up at him again. “Can you edit camera footage in real time?”

“Uh, sure.” Vox grinned. “You want me to edit you out of it, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “And you’re doing this gratis, right?” This bit was important- you didn’t want to end up owing your soul for something like this.

“Relax, baby deer, trust me,” said Vox, eyes half-lidded, and his voice might have sounded seductive if you weren’t thinking about bloodshed. “No charge, just helping a friend out.”

It took most sinners years to get to the point where they could allow their bodies to shift beyond human norms. Even then, most people made it as far as some horns, some claws, a bit of size before their mental preconceptions, or whatever most people had, stopped them dead. But here you were, full fucking cryptid, crawling the fucking walls. Yeah, you didn’t have Alastor’s freaky shadow powers, and you were still pretty much the same size as you had been, but it barely mattered in this context, with the dark covering you. You were still a monster with glowing dials for eyes.

Vox might have assumed Alastor had done something to you to make you this way if he hadn’t known your history.

Vox might have remembered to be scared if he wasn’t rock hard in his pants just from watching you.

It was almost a shame that you resembled Alastor so strongly. A newly fledged sinner taking down an overlord would be big news, enough to fill the channels with speculation and talking heads for half a cycle at least, but someone who looked like Alastor doing it was just Radio Demon bites man, an item for a slow news day.

Editing you out of footage in real time wasn’t difficult for Vox. You were eerily good at finding the blind spots on the security feeds as you made your approach to Kennedy’s building, only lingering in exposed sections when the alternative would see you in a sinner’s line of sight. Sometimes you would look up at a camera, a tilt of your grinning head to acknowledge his presence as a viewer.

The whole thing was kind of fun, if Vox was honest with himself, the only thing missing from the whole caper being an earpiece to let him annoy your with commentary. It reminded him of accompanying Alastor on his errands, back in the old days, when Alastor would display his full demonic form and then give a small, backwards glance to Vox, to check he was being properly admired.

You hummed the opening bars of the saints as you scaled the wall of Kennedy’s building, ascending to the penthouse. Security cameras were trained on the outer walls to prevent exactly this sort of egress, but you trusted Vox enough that you paid only minimal attention to them, keeping to the blind spots where you could, crawling in shadows where you couldn’t.

You’d been through longer dry spells than this one in your lifetime. A six month stint here, a year there; all of them spent in a state of tension, a spring wound tightly enough that the metal threatened stress fractures. In the few weeks you’d spent in Hell you’d had sex and entertainment aplenty, that ought to have been enough to take the edge from your need. Why then, did this feel worse? You could feel the anticipation running through you, taste it like blood in your mouth. You wanted violence. You wanted pain. You wanted control.

Perhaps that was why you felt like this, so needy that your fingernails ached, that your teeth grew long and pointed in your grin. When you’d held yourself back before it had been of your own accord, lying low to avoid scrutiny, from the police or from your quarry, but here you had been a prisoner of circumstance, first a literal prisoner and then constrained by your own nascent body. You hauled yourself over the ledge and onto the external sill of the penthouse windows, briefly confronted by the reddish glow of your own eyes in the reflection. The glass was single glazed, not shatterproof, the latches easy enough to manipulate from the outside. You could get inside any time you wanted.

You crept round the penthouse from the outside of the building, looking into each room in turn. A lounge area, a kitchen with a breakfast bar, open plan. A bathroom, a jacuzzi tub pressed up against the window for a questionable view of Pentagram City’s skyline.

Finally, the bedroom. Kennedy, asleep. But the effects strewn around the floor of the room belonged to more than one person. You remained still, listening, and sure enough there was a sob from behind the closed door of the ensuite bathroom. Partner? Whore? Probably the latter, given the man had killed his last three partners. Either way, it didn’t matter- it was still someone who would scream if they saw you.

You paused. You didn’t really want collateral, but having a witness was bad too. Not as bad as it would be topside, but Alastor wanted the killing to reflect on the reputation of the Radio Demon, which was easier if no-one saw.

You sucked your lip, thinking. Fuck it. You were unlikely to get a cleaner opportunity than this, and even if it went completely to shit, you still had avenues of escape available. It wasn’t like there was a police force in Hell, anyway.

With a well-placed percussive strike to the frame, you damaged the latch enough to slide open the window and stepped into the room, tucking your cane under one arm as you dropped to the floor.

Opening the bathroom door brought you face to face with a pig sinner with running mascara. You clamped a hand over their mouth to stop them crying out in surprise, then lifted a dramatic finger to your own smiling lips. They nodded once, in understanding, and you released their face before gesturing to the bedroom door. Go. Now.

They obeyed, an expression of terror in their panda-ringed eyes, and you turned to the bed, your quarry’s sleeping form, a surge of ardor coursing through your body. The fleeing pig sinner was likely to alert someone, but you stopped to soak in the moment anyway, the air in your lungs feeling briefly like fire, your pulse resounding through your tongue and through your loins. Here you were. Here was your true self. Glimpsed in the mirror of the walk-in wardrobe, your antlers looked like the tops of dead trees before a yellow moon, like old bones emerging from the bayou in a season of drought, and your breath was the noise of rain on powerlines, an ominous, crackling hum.

There wasn’t a struggle. Only release, sweet and wet and bloody.

What the fuck was taking you so long? For some reason that Vox didn’t understand, Kennedy had neglected to install cameras in his penthouse suite, and he cycled impatiently through the feeds outside. There was certainly something happening inside, a few of Kennedy’s goons milling around the doors. But no sign of you. Vox waited.

He was fairly sure you weren’t in trouble, but what if you were? You were a new sinner, after all, even if you were a murderer, no souls to your name, and no-one knew how exactly how the strength of someone’s soul was determined.

Finally, he phoned Kennedy’s number.

You looked up from the mess of blood on the bed at the glowing blue rectangle of the phone on the dresser. Vox, the screen read.

Oh, your hands were so slick with blood. It took you a couple tries to activate the touch screen, your fingertips leaving red-brown smears that made the screen trip out.

“Vox!” You felt so good now; it made you want to sing. There was blood on your tongue and on your face. “I got a phone!”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking ate him, didn’t you.” Vox’s irritation seeped through the surface of the phone, and he sighed. “Listen carefully, baby deer- you need to get the fuck out of there.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Kennedy’s goons think the Radio Demon is in there. Look, baby, you’re dangerous, I get that. I respect it. But you’re nowhere near Al’s level. You’re not gonna hold your own against twenty guys with machine guns. Get the fuck out of that building.”

Somewhere between the swearing and the threats, you started to feel a little more like your normal self. You glanced back at the bed- the remnants of Kennedy didn’t look like anything other than random, discarded meat- he wasn’t coming back, and hopefully that would be good enough for Alastor. “Got it,” you said, and after a couple of failed bloody finger swipes, managed to hang up on Vox.

Popping Kennedy’s phone into your pocket, you headed out.

The path to the hotel ought to have been clear. It had been, when you had headed out. But on your return you found the final intersection before the hotel populated by gangsters, guns trained in all dimensions. They looked nervous. You caught a whisper on the air. Radio Demon.

Of course. You had been seen.

Of course. They were waiting for you. For Alastor.

You stared at the line of goons guarding the intersection, the hotel just beyond them. You tried to take a step forward, but something stopped you, the rattle of a chain, and a pressure on your ankle. Of course. No bringing trouble to the hotel. That had been one of the conditions of your original contract with Alastor, and it was coming into play now. No going through. And chances were that Kennedy’s people had surrounded the hotel in the hopes of catching Alastor. What were your options? You could stay on the streets for the night, bloodstained and dangerous, and hope that you didn’t get caught in any acid rain.

Or you could take your second option. Gingerly, you reached into your pocket and pulled out Kennedy’s phone. His contacts list was sadly devoid of people you knew, so you phoned Vox again.

“Yeah?” He picked up before you had the phone to your ear, and you grinned at the thought that he was waiting for a call back.

“Can I crash at yours tonight? Some guys have barricaded the road to the hotel.” You paused a beat. “No funny stuff.”

There was, of course, another reason you wanted to see Vox. The list of your quarry who were still in Hell was a temptation and a half. Even now, when you were full and sated, with Kennedy’s blood still drying on your skin, you could feel the appeal of it, the symmetry- to hunt the bad men that you had hunted before.

Vox sighed as he grabbed a pair of tumblers and a bottle of yamazaki single malt from his liquor cabinet. This would be so easy, if only he could hypnotize you. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t- he could feel the give of your mind with each little push- you were strong willed but that was all. He had taken stronger minds than yours. He had taken Alastor, for fuck’s sake, had made his eyes glaze over and his slight body go limp under his influence. He had pushed Alastor’s mind, and he’d told himself it had been worth it, up until the point when Alastor had found his abuse, and those red eyes had turned from hard-earned trust to betrayal.

So no, he wouldn’t hypnotize you, even if you had just walked straight into his personal quarters looking like you just walked out of an abattoir and asked to use his sound system.

He’d been right about his impression of you over the phone- you were euphoric and reckless, probably as a side-effect of eating Pentagram’s newest overlord. VNN already had reporters on the scene and there was barely a scrap of Kennedy left, with at least two witnesses now claiming to have seen the Radio Demon.

You were sat about a foot from the speakers, cross-legged, sit bones on the floor, your right hoof resting on your left knee as you basked in the music. Vox crouched beside you, pressing a tumbler into your hand, and, as he was close, pressed his face to the back of your head and breathed in your scent. Fuck, you even smelled like Alastor now; the same mix of musk, formaldehyde and blood that Vox remembered.

Gently, you grabbed the edge of his screen and moved him away. “Stop that.”

“Why should I stop?” Vox asked, his voice coaxing. “You’re worried Alastor’s gonna be mad?”

“No, I think he’d be upset. And I don’t think you want him to be upset either.” You raised an eyebrow at him, and Vox felt a chill run down his spine. “Do you, Vox?”

Fuck. Vox pulled a face. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Maybe.” Your smile was small, and your ears twitched at some unheard thing. “You’re going to need another glass.”

Vox frowned. “For you?”

Your smile grew wider. “For Alastor.”

“Alastor?” Vox repeated.

“Speak of the devil,” said Alastor, his elocution crisp as he manifested from the shadow. “And he shall appear.”

One of the most basic workings in Vodou, the one that Alastor’s mother had warned him to avoid being trapped by, was the exchange of fluids. If a man consumed the menses of a woman, it was trivially easy for her to control him, track him, whatever she wanted. The same was true with men and their seed, and it behooved any practitioner to be careful who they accepted food from. A mutual consumption was a stronger link still, a little of the practitioner in the target and a little of the target in the practitioner.

Though you were neither male nor female, his own personal blasphemous sacred twin, there had certainly been enough exchange of fluids between you. Alastor could feel the power latent in the link; an ancient, primal sort of magic. It wasn’t the sort of thing he usually dabbled in, and if his microphone had been intact he wouldn’t have even considered it, but in his current state it was a comfort. He tuned out the banal late night chatter at the hotel bar in favor of the link to you, the smile on his face automatic. He felt you as you moved across the city, to your intended location, and then your return path to the hotel.

And then, your failure to return.

“Sir?” Niffty asked, a small hand on his knee. Something must have showed in his eyes, because both Angel and Husk were looking at him too. “Is something wrong?”

Alastor gave a terse smile. “Never better,” he said, rising from his seat. “I have merely remembered an errand I must run.”

And run was the operative word, as yet again the conditions of his deal with you compelled him. He would keep you free of being Vox’s prisoner. He had promised.

He had slid across the city and through the tower, a shadow, depleting precious reserves of power, his compass to you unerring, and his heart had lurched when he had found you in Vox’s personal quarters, sat in front of the sound system. When Vox had knelt to smell your hair, Alastor had felt his antlers creak as they grew, fierce and territorial.

Vox’s voice was wheedling, the same tone that had always worked on him somehow. “You’re worried Alastor’s gonna be mad?”

“No,” came your voice, a touch more forceful than you usually were. “I just think he’d be upset. And I don’t think you want him to be upset either. Do you, Vox?”

“Am I that easy to read?” Vox’s face was pathetic, and Alastor’s heart lurched again, with something like pity this time, or perhaps regret. They had been friends once, great friends.

“Al-” Vox breathed, eyes wide.

Alastor stepped past him, to you. His smile was wan. “Darling, you smell like bloodshed,” he said, proffering a red-taloned hand and helping you to your feet. “We should go.”

“Vox was just pouring us drinks,” you said, not wanting the evening to end particularly. Vox still had your list of victims, and the sound system was just as sublime as you thought it would be.

Vox gave you a grateful look, and waggled his expensive bottle of single malt. Alastor looked between the two of you, and sighed. “I suppose we can stay for a round or two,” he said, spreading his fingers. “But at least put some decent music on.”

That was how you had ended up on the couch in Vox’s private quarters, half sitting on Alastor’s lap, a glass of whiskey in your hand, listening to the musical stylings of Papa Celestin on Vox’s frankly impressive sound system as Alastor, now down to shirtsleeves, told stories about some of the band members- who had played with who and who had cheated at cards. It seemed like every time you had nearly finished your drink Vox was there with the bottle again, not just for you but for Alastor. A few drinks later, the playlist had moved on to Johnny Hodges ballads and Alastor was handsy, his talons tracing lines over your antlers, your neck, your back, and down over your hips.

“And then his brother formed a band with Scrapper Blackwell’s bassist,” said Alastor, fingers pressing over your tail. “Mimzy was dating their percussionist for a while.”

“Wait a damn minute Al, you’ve told me this one before.” Vox was temptingly close on the couch next to you, but he made no overtures, apparently content to watch Alastor run his hands over you. “I thought you said it was the pianist?”

Alastor hummed, one claw hooking its way into your already loosened bow tie and pulling it open. “Maybe it was both. That would explain why the rhythm section was so lively.”

You relaxed into his touch, your earlier violence rendering you satiated and languorous; content to go where he led you. You smiled up at Alastor, baring your neck to him as he undid the top button of your shirt.

Vox made a noise in his throat. “Al? Are you-”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Alastor’s grin was lopsided as his attention flicked to Vox. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, after all.”

To make a point, Alastor dipped his head to kiss you. It was messier than he usually was, Alastor’s breath reeking of alcohol, and his tongue caressed your lips and cheeks, tasting the blood that stained them.

“Fuck,” Alastor breathed, his pupils wide as he broke the kiss. “Darling, you taste like dead overlord.”

“You would know, Al,” Vox shot, and Alastor grinned.

“Vox,” he called, like a man trying to coax a pet dog. “You really should have a taste.”

You sat up and watched with amusement as Vox feigned insouciance, shuffling closer to you on the couch as Alastor held you, one arm possessive around your waist. You wondered for a second if he would take the coward’s way out, and press his tongue to your forehead or your cheek, but Vox, with an expression close to awe, pushed a little of your blood-matted hair back from your cheek, his talontips under your jaw, and kissed you.

Vox’s lips were the tingle of static, his tongue shivering hot as it twined against yours, pressing up against your teeth and your gums, and you groaned into the kiss. Alastor’s grip on your waist tightened, and you felt him grow turgid, cock pressing up against your ass as Vox kissed you.

When Vox broke the kiss his eyes held something akin to despair, fingers trailing on your jaw as Alastor pulled you to him, a fierce, possessive look on his face. You rolled your hips back, grinding against Alastor’s erection through layers of fabric, and enjoyed the shiver he gave; the way his cock grew hard and hot, his face pressing into your neck, points of his teeth grazing your skin with lines of hot sensation that you would probably regret in the morning.

Vox hesitated, wary of Alastor’s jealousy, and you caught him by the collar, pulling him in for a second kiss. His chest pressed against yours, sandwiching you between him and Alastor, Alastor’s tongue tracing hot lines against the sensitive skin of your neck as Vox’s tangled in your mouth, the heartfelt groan that Vox gave resonating through the three of you.

“Thank you,” gasped Vox, his eyes closed, though you weren’t sure if it was directed at you, Alastor, or God. It didn’t matter. You traced the hard lines of his square face with your fingers, feeling Alastor’s hands on your hips, pulling you firmly against him, as if to remind you whose bed you slept in. You turned your head to kiss Alastor, the kiss breathless and full of urgency, his teeth nipping bloody at your lips, and Vox’s hands were at the buttons of your shirt, peeling back the fabric that stuck to your skin with half-dry overlord blood.

Vox’s talented lips kissed over your chest, then your stomach, the static from his screen making your skin prickle as your hairs stood on end.

“You want the television demon to blow you, darling?” Alastor murmured, his lips brushing the fur on your ears, the tips of your antlers, and his words went straight to your cock, stirring you to half-mast. “You want his mouth on you?”

“Yes,” you murmured, and that was all it took for Vox to have your pants off, Alastor releasing your hips for long enough that Vox could maneuver you into a position where Vox could blow you. The upper edge of his rectangular head was level with your diaphragm as he took you in, his tongue gentle as he coaxed you to hardness. The inside of his mouth was warm, his tongue almost buzzing against your cock as he wound it round in a spiral, and you shivered as he did, resisting the urge to grab him by the edges of his face and fuck into him. A whine escaped your throat, low and needy.

Alastor kissed your neck, his eyes curious as he watched Vox take you to the hilt in his mouth. “But where does it go?” he asked, his gaze on the back of Vox’s extremely flat head, red eyes narrowed.

You closed your eyes, still basking in the sensation of Vox’s tongue around your shaft, the soft flesh at the back of his mouth. “The Head Dimension, of course,” you said, and you felt Vox nearly gag with laughter; not an entirely unpleasant feeling, except that he pulled his mouth from your cock almost immediately.

“Jesus, Bambi, don’t make me laugh like that!” Vox gaped at you, wiping a digital tear from his face. “Fuck!”

Alastor tittered, the noise silvery, his narrow chest shaking with mirth as he leaned into your shoulder. “He’s just pissy that he didn’t think of that first,” he said. “Wordplay was never his strong point.”

“I’ll show you my strong point,” muttered Vox, peeling off his own shirt as he did.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get to that eventually,” said Alastor, and you remembered how his cock had twitched inside you each time he had teased Vox in the armchair. “In the meantime-” he continued, hooking a clawed hand around your hip and pulling you to him once more, turning you to face him in his lap. “We have more important things to deal with.”

“The fuck did you do to their back, Al?” complained Vox, his hands warm on the furrows that Alastor’s claws had carved across your shoulders the night previous, but Alastor ignored him, kissing you lightly as he guided your hand to his fly, the fabric there taut with his arousal. You touched him, through the fabric first and then unfastening his fly and easing him out, a surge of sympathetic lust through your core as you held his cock in your hand, palm curling round his hardness. The noise he gave was a soft one, an exhalation of breath through his nose accompanied by a beat of deeper than appliance pitch humming.

You palmed Alastor’s cock, and his fingers went to your antlers, dancing lightly across the tines, each touch of his a musical note that resonated through your skull, your spine and down to your core, making you tremble, aching with want as you watched Alastor’s antlers expand in turn. Vox didn’t touch them, but you could feel him watching keenly, his own electrical powers a fuzzy interference at the periphery of your senses as you pumped Alastor’s cock with your hand.

“Inside me?” you asked Alastor, not least because having his cock in your palm made you ache with desire, and Alastor nodded, leaning back a little to let you straddle him. You guided him with your hand as you lowered yourself onto him, watching the delicious way he smiled as you did so; the way he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering half closed.

“Fuck,” Alastor spoke the word like a prayer rather than a curse as you sank onto him, Vox’s hands on your shoulders, then your waist, Alastor spreading his knees to let Vox between them.

“You look so fucking pretty like that,” said Vox, his voice full of gravel as he reached around you, hand finding your cock and folding around it, but his eyes were on Alastor, as well as you, as he spoke.

Vox’s grip was as firm as it had been when he had crawled into bed with you on your first night in Hell, and no less effective, pumping in time as you rode Alastor, your thighs working to lift and lower you. At first it seemed like Alastor would be content to be ridden, his face flushed and his hips staying in place as he made soft groans of appreciation, but when he kissed you and a squeeze of Vox’s hand made you whimper against his lips, Alastor’s hand joined Vox’s around your cock, talons curling around the back of Vox’s hand and forcing him to tighten his grip.

There was a moment of electricity then, Vox’s breath stilling in his throat, his bare chest pressed flush against your back.

“What’s the matter?” Alastor asked Vox, his expression sly and teasing as he forced Vox’s hand to grip you, started it moving again at a steady, sublime cadence. “You’ve never objected to a guiding hand before.”

Vox’s audio glitched before he spoke, accompanied by a myclonic jerk that you felt through his chest against your back, his hand involuntary squeezing around your shaft. “A-Alastor,” he stuttered, his audio still clipping, for all the world as if their hands were clasped around Vox’s cock rather than yours. “Oh, god.”

Alastor smirked against your neck, pretending careless superiority, but he couldn’t hide the pleasant twitch of arousal his cock gave inside your cunt when Vox moaned his name. Vox was right, though; Alastor did look beautiful, color on his cheeks that could have been the drink or arousal or both, his lips parted, as he panted through his jagged teeth, still smiling, always smiling, as his hair fell in strands across his face, his antlers handsomely tall.

When had you become so fond of him, you wondered, as he guided Vox’s hand in a pattern that had you aching for release, a pulse through your core as precum beaded at your tip. You stilled your hips as the sensation of their hands together on your cock threatened to overwhelm you, sinking down fully onto Alastor’s cock and pressing your face into his shirt with a whimper.

“What’s this?” Alastor turned his teasing smile on you now, rather than Vox. “So close already?” He nipped at the edge of your ear, not hard enough to do damage, but enough that you could feel the fine points of his teeth, and you gasped. “You know, of course, that it won’t save you? That we will keep going until we’ve had our fill of you?”

“We?” Vox repeated, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and hoarse, and your stomach swooped as you caught the implication too. “That mean what I think it means, Al?”

“My delightful friend here has two holes, after all,” said Alastor, pressing his cheek to your antler. “It seems a waste to use only one of them.”

You half expected Vox to run off and get a toy, but instead he fetched a bottle of lubricant from a compartment under the couch, and kissed his way down your back, over your shoulders and the claw marks that Alastor had made, his screen warm against the small of your back, making the fur on your tail stand on end.

“You’re gonna love this, baby deer,” said Vox, one hand on your back pushing you forward over Alastor. “Trust me,” he added wryly, when you gave a doubtful backwards glance.

“With your tongue?” Alastor’s tone was both scandalized and fascinated as he peered over your shoulder at Vox.

Vox didn’t bother answering him, simply spread your ass apart a little with his hands and set to work. His tongue was like white noise on your skin as he lapped at your entrance, wet and hot as he dragged it over sensitive flesh. You felt exposed; even like this, with Alastor’s cock to the hilt inside your cunt, you felt exposed. You cried out as Vox’s tongue made egress, the narrow tip pushing past your tight ring of muscle and then inside.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your face in Alastor’s collar again, and Alastor must have noticed how Vox’s tongue pressed against your walls, against his cock inside you, because he looked sharply at Vox.

“Keep doing that,” he said, a sharp note of desire in his voice, and you felt Vox’s groan as he pushed his tongue a little further in, the sensation all slickness and pressure as his tongue stroked Alastor’s cock through the thin layer of your flesh.

Alastor found your cock with his hand again, his smile cruel as he caressed your shaft. “You’re going to come, aren’t you, darling? You’re going to spend yourself with Vox’s tongue up your ass.”

It wasn’t fair. You could barely think straight, let alone give any answer other than an obscene, whorish whimper, not with both of them working your insides and Alastor’s knowing hand on your cock. The first time you’d met, he’d shown you how he knew your body better than you did yourself, and that was still true now, the strength of his grip and his tempo nothing other than perfection as he ground his hips up into you, rutting into you and rutting against Vox’s tongue, each movement one of blinding ecstasy, sensation so strong that it seemed to bleed into senses other than touch. You had no chance to catch your breath, no surcease from the assault, and no choice other than to feel yourself fall, your whole body seeming to seize in orgasm, the cry in your throat free of static as your cunt and cock pulsed in time, painting a white line up Alastor’s red shirt and spattering his cheek.

“See? What did I tell you?” Vox’s grin was triumphant as he pulled his tongue from you, his claws caressing your tail. Your body was still sensitive from the aftershocks, and his simple touch brought another one on, an involuntary animal cry in your throat. Vox scoffed and squeezed again, threading his talons through your fur, the sensation alone enough to make your stomach flutter, and through the corner of your eye you saw him take one of the discarded whiskey glasses and drain it, swilling it around his mouth before he swallowed.

“Oh, oh, sweetheart,” Alastor wiped your cum from his cheek and brought his fingers to your mouth, slipping his talons between your lips for you to suck clean. His voice was a croon, his breath hitching with each spasm that wracked you. “You fit me just perfectly, don’t you?”

You hummed around his fingers in response. It was an act of trust, just as much as the sex was- your teeth were every bit as sharp as his- and his fingers felt good in your mouth, like a gift. You closed your eyes, tracing the delicate lines of his fingers with your tongue, and felt as Vox lined himself up behind you, the warm tip of his cock resting first against your tail, then sliding down, the tip leaving a trail of wetness as he lined up with your entrance, the tip brushing against the flesh he had lapped with his tongue a few moments before.

Vox breathed out heavily, talons cradling your hips. “Are you sure about this, Al?”

“I think it’s customary,” said Alastor, a little snippily. “To ask that to the person you are about to fuck.”

“Shit.” You felt the tension in Vox’s body at Alastor’s rebuke. “You, uh, doin’ okay there, baby deer?”

You released Alastor’s fingers from your mouth, and turned your head to Vox, as far as you could twist with Alastor still inside you. Vox leaned in to accommodate, and you caught his lips with yours, hooking your forearm round his screen to keep him close as you kissed him, Alastor pressing his lips to your neck as you did. Taking the kiss as assent, Vox pushed into you, slowly.

Your inebriation and your orgasm helped make you loose, and Vox had been liberal with the lubricant on his tongue, but with Alastor inside you as well the fit was a tight one. Alastor tensed when he felt Vox push his way into your ass, his hips stilling and the soft hiss of static escaping his lips.

“God,” mumbled Vox as he bottomed out, his claws on your hips tight enough to mark you. “Fucking god. Al.”

Alastor didn’t bother with words, but the strangled noise in his throat might as well have been agreement.

Both of their eyes fluttered closed, and you felt a tremble in Vox’s arms. They could feel each other. They could feel each other inside you, both of them together stuffing you to the brim.

“I- I’m gonna move now,” said Vox, a pleading edge to his voice. He swallowed, edge of his screen knocking briefly against your antlers. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you managed, briefly getting yourself to a state where you could form actual words rather than animalistic whimpering. “Just full.”

“If he hurts you,” said Alastor, into your collarbone. “I will eviscerate him.”

“Fuck me.” Vox exhaled again, sounding more like himself. “I have never seen him this fucking protective. Of anyone. But sure thing Al, I'll go gentle.”

True to his word, Vox went slowly as he fucked you, fucked both of you. Post orgasmic and still sensitive, the sensation of it filled your awareness; at the apex you were so full that everything pressed together, Vox’s cock pressing into Alastor’s through your thin divider of flesh, Alastor’s cock pushed almost by default into the sensitive spongy tissue that he would usually need to angle his hips to find. There was no escape, not for you nor for Alastor- Vox’s cock stroking his as much as it was fucking you, and you found yourself crying out in tandem with him, the same sweet noises from both your throats, the sound so close that it made strange beats and harmonies around you. Vox kissed you, sensuous and open mouthed, then Alastor kissed you, fierce and possessive, then Vox again, lapping up the blood that Alastor had drawn from your lips, your head swimming as two sets of claws held you in place.

You grew hard again, your body responding to being pressed between the two of them and fucked, and Vox took your cock in his hand, a victorious growl from his throat.

“You wanna cum round Al’s cock again, don't you, baby deer,” Vox’s voice was thick with desire, his hand firm as he handled your already overstimulated cock. Even a gentle stroke would have been too much, and his manipulation was more than that.

“I can't-” you managed between gasps of air. With both of them in you, you were stuffed to the brim, each roll of Vox’s hips bringing tears to your eyes. “Too much. Please.”

“You want him to feel you twitching around him, though, don't you?” Vox’s voice was coaxing, the hand that wasn't stroking your cock hooking round your waist, the heel of his hand pressing into your stomach, below your navel, pressing everything together inside you. “You want him to feel good, don't you?” said Vox, his breath hot on the back of your neck, and you stared into Alastor's lust-blown eyes, feeling the way Alastor trembled each time Vox ploughed into you, only your inner wall separating them.

“Yes,” you whimpered, but it was Alastor who cried out, drawing blood from his own lip, his hands tight on your hips. Alastor came a second before you did, his seed inside you a wave of heat as your cunt pulsed around him, your cock twitching weakly in Vox’s hand.

“Fuck-” Vox breathed, clinging to you tightly, the edge of his screen digging hard into the tops of your shoulders as the feeling of you and Alastor coming dragged him over the edge, his composure lost, and you made a noise in your throat as you felt him shoot his load in you, into your already overstuffed hole.

For a moment, the two of them inside you filled the entirety of your awareness, the pulsing warmth that filled your stomach, the tight grip that both Alastor and Vox had on you. Then you sank forward onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the grips became slow caresses, claws gentle against your bruised skin. Both of them praising you, neither man quite ready to look the other in the eye. They pulled out of you, and it occurred to you that you needed a shower, but you had barely enough energy left in you to lay back on Vox’s couch, your forearm over your eyes.

The last thing you remembered before you blacked out was Vox pouring another finger of obscenely expensive Japanese whiskey, some Ella Fitzgerald playing as the two of them admired how pretty you looked with their cum leaking out of you.

If this was Hell, then what the fuck went on in Heaven?

[merrygay]

“Ah ah… What did you say ?”

Alastor x reader

Warning : NSFW, Dacryphilia, Dark Themes, cannibalism, Alastor is a Warning himself. English is not my first language. I’m bad at writing synopsis. I’m bad at writing in general in fact.

Synopsis : Innocent reader tries to make a deal with Vox in order to protect herself from Alastor.

Other : Lovely ; Alastor x reader

(Sorry for the long delay, college is kicking my ass)

————————————————————————

It’s been a week since the incident with Alastor happened, he hadn’t touched you since or even come your way.

Though you still tried to avoid him like the plague, every time you saw him, around the corner, in the living room, anywhere, you just quickly run away for dear life.

You were scared, what if this time he eats you for good ? What if he does the same thing he did last time and then proceed to eat you at the same ? You were getting paranoid at this point.

Seeing your small figure scare away from him like the pretty prey that you are made him grin even wider. He was clearly enjoying this, enjoying you, at first he hated that he lost control to a miserable thing like you, but as time passes the idea of a plaything didn’t seem to bother him anymore, especially when he was this hungry.

You've tried to forget what happened, you've really tried, but every night when you're alone in bed, you can't help yourself.

The pulsating feeling between your legs won’t stop, oh poor you, it gets even worse when the image of his head between your legs becomes clearer, his tongue unashamedly licking the most intimate part of your body, making a mess of himself with your juices as they drip from your sensitive pussy while you moan and whimper.

An innocent thing like you can’t even understand why you are feeling like this.

You rub your thighs to cease the sensation the same sensation you felt when he did this forbidden thing to you but it doesn’t work, you keep whining until you finally fell asleep.

You had to find a solution and quick, you don’t know when he’s going to jump on you again and this time eat you for good.

So Here you were, in front of the building of nonetheless than the Vees. It was a dumb idea let’s be honest here. Each step you take to get closer to the doors makes your heart beats faster. Making a deal with Vox must be better than being killed by Alastor right ? Right ?

_

“You want me to do what now ?”

The man in front of you, with a flat-screen TV for a face, looked at you as if you'd said the stupidest thing in the world.

“Why would I make a deal with an employee of this stupid fucking hotel huh ?”

You swallow nervously at his answer, playing with your fingers as you try to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I-I need to make a deal with you because I heard you are the only one who is as strong as Alastor-“

Vox smiles widen as he seems to like the compliment, “Ahah. Go on, continue I don’t have the whole fucking day” he says tapping against his office table.

You then proceed to explain, trying to avoid some of the… more embarrassing details.

he begins to laugh… laugh ? Why is he laughing ?

“You’re telling me that you are the new toy of Alastor”

He pauses for a second smiling devilishly while looking at you from head to toe

“You know what I’ll make deal with you, stealing Alastor fucking food is much more fun I can’t wait to see the face of this old prick when-”

His TV face starts to vibrate, you could see it was one of the other Vees calling. He puts the call in one of his other TV.

“Hello there, Velvet. How are you this Hellish morning”, in stark contrast to Vox lively greeting, Velvet response was one of pure annoyance.

“Cut the shit vox, i need you up here NOW. Your little boy toy is wracking my department while I tried to put together a show !”

Other voices could be heard behind her notably Valentino’s who was cursing around, yelling and destroying the entire department. Velvet ends the call without giving Vox any chance to say something.

Vox’s smiling face drops, he lets out a loud sigh.

“Here I was.. excited for something… anyway come this afternoon, so we can finalize our deal, I have a fire to put out upstairs”

With that, you leave the building, and quickly go back to the hotel avoiding the sinners running around and killing each other.

-

You open the doors, but it's strangely quiet - maybe they've gone out, you wonder. You climb the stairs back to your room, but when you finally reach the corridor, you suddenly hear a static sound.

“Are you still going to avoid me hmm ?”

You hear that familiar voice, filtered through the radio, with that all-too-familiar smile. He appeared right in front of you. You flinch and take a few steps back, your legs ready to run in the opposite direction.

He chuckles, his smile widening, awnnn how cute, you're still this scared of him.

“Now now don’t be scared, I just want to have a little chat with you” he says while turning around. Alastor was now walking towards your room Insinuating you to follow him.

“N-no ! I’m not going to, you should stay away from me, I made a deal with Vox !”

As those words settles in, the corridor seemed to shrink, suffocating you in a claustrophobic embrace.

The lights starts to flicker casting grotesque shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

A sudden chill permeated the air, causing goosebumps to rise on your already trembling skin.

“Haha.. What did you say ?” His voice took on a deeper timbre through his radio filter.

An oppressive weight settled over the corridor, squeezing the breath from your lungs and filling your minds with irrational fear.

He turns to you, his predatory eyes shining through the flickering lights. Each step seemed to echo with ominous intent while he grew taller and taller and his antlers increased in size.

"Do you really think he can keep me away from you? I don't think you really understand the situation you're in, my dear… You're my plaything, my prey and my meal. If you utter those stupid words again... I'll end Vox's life and broadcast his screams for every disrespectful wreck who dares to take what's MINE”

You were on the floor, you shaky legs were to weak to stand on their own, while Alastor’s glowing eyes pierced through your soul.

"Have I made myself clear?" He asks, leaning slightly so that his face is close to yours. You nod, lips pressed together, too scared to speak.

He tilted his head, his eyes softened, but the smirk that played on his lips refused to yield, a silent mockery that belied his gentle gaze.

In stark contrast to the anger that had consumed him mere moments ago, his voice now returned to its normal tone as he uttered the words “good girl” while petting your head.

The transition was jarring, as if a storm had suddenly given way to a calm, clear sky, leaving those around him bewildered by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

He straighten up and turns his back to you “Come now, I don’t know for you my dear but all that action has worked up quite an appetite, I'm absolutely famished !” he chuckles darkly as he starts walking towards your room.

He didn't give you time to get up, as one of his tentacles wrapped itself around your waist forcefully.

-

Next thing you know, Alastor was sitting at the edge of your bed, you straddling his lap facing him, with only your bra and skirt remaining still while your shirt was torn on the floor.

“You are terrible liar” Alastor force you to look at his smirking face.

“You didn’t make any deal .. yet” as he states those words without any warning he bites your neck, you let out a cry of surprise, you tried to get away, pushing him away in vain, he had one firm hand placed on your hips his claws digging in harder and harder each time you moved. Ironically his other hand holds yours in a romantic embrace, your fingers intertwined to his.

“Stay still, or I will devour you. You have no idea how much I’m restraining myself right now little one”, he can't help it, it's been a week since he's tasted you, since he's bitten your pretty little body, everything about you drives him crazy, your smell ahh your smell.

He goes back to your neck this time nestling there, inhaling deeply and then proceed to lick the spot he bit earlier, licking up the blood, his tongue started to go down, until he reached your breasts still covered with your bra, he looks up at you, smirking.

You were a trembling mess, your emotions swirled like a tempest, fear tightening your chest with every breath, embarrassment flooding your cheeks with a telltale blush. Yet amidst the chaos, a stirring of arousal sent shivers along your back, a well too familiar feeling between your thighs started to show up much to your dismay.

His hand, which was on your hips moved with a slow, deliberate, grace, gradually tracing a path upwards, each caress sending shivers down your spine until it reached the delicate lace of your bra.

His eyes were still staring into yours, drinking in your every reaction as his claws ripped the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts for his hungry eyes to see.

You tried to cover them with your hand but He withdraws it “a-a”, he says sarcastically before his tongue trace a sensual path along your neck, gradually venturing lower and lower, your breath came in shallow gaps, each inhalation tinged with anticipation.

He finally reaches your chest, his tongue tracing precise circles around your nipples, you try to stifle your moans with your hand, but he suddenly bites your breast, making you cry out his name as he chuckles.

He continues for a while without ever ceasing to lick and bite, his hand still intertwined with yours, as you keep whimpering.

He was getting excited each sounds that came out of your mouth made him feral making his antlers grow and his eyes took on a predatory gleam, a never stopping hunger.

Without Warning, he forcefully lifted you from his lap, abruptly changing position as he pushed you down onto the bed, he slid your legs up onto his shoulders, giving him access to your thighs which he didn’t wait a minute before biting on it much more harder this time making you yelp in pain.

You watch his shark like teeth digging into the flesh of your skin, eliciting a crimson flow that trickled down you thigh, his tongue darted out to lap at the blood pooling around the wound, hungrily savoring again the metallic tang of the fluid.

“P-Please stop” you begged, tears rolling down your cheeks. He ignores your plead instead he keeps going, biting your other thigh, licking it and then taking another bite, while he slowly gets closer to your cunt.

His fingers played with the edge of your damp panties, teasing you. Your pussy was dripping wet. Your scent was intoxicating, everything about you was intoxicating, the way he was ruining you, both physically and mentally turned him on even more.

He abruptly ripped out your panties, your pussy was now exposed to him, it took him a lot of restraint for him not to eat you right fucking now, just like before.

His index finger teased a delicate trail along your belly, he descended lower his nail traced a deliberate scratch along your skin, igniting a surge of desire that pulsed through your vein.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this, but instead of hating it, you were desperate, one part you wanted him to touch your pussy, make you feel the same feeling of just pure bliss, and the other part, fear just pure fear.

“P-Please don’t go any lower” you plead again each word punctuated by a stifled sob, but it was too late, the demon before you was too intoxicated by your scent, by your wetness, your whole body really.

Again your pretty little mind had no idea about the struggle he was going through right now, struggling to restrain his cannibalistic impulses, and hearing your cries wasn’t helping at all, in the contrary, he derived such pleasure from your tears.

The way your puffy eyes would look at him, lips cutely pressed together, face flushed ahhh don’t blame him for acting out while you look this delicious.

“I want your soul” the demon says, before his finger applied gently pressure to your sensitive button, making you gasp in pleasure, he stroked circular motions over your clit heightened the pace, while watching your face which was trying not to moan but failed miserably.

“Let’s make a deal”, you were surprised by his sudden request “w-what” you stutters out, is he really suggesting it now ? Like right now in the middle of that ?

You couldn’t think straight you were too absorb by the pleasure he was providing you, you shake your head no, which made him stopped his movements making you whine, you look up at him, with that desperate look on your face.

Suddenly, he thrusts two fingers inside you, causing you to let out a moan of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

Alastor didn’t like the way you reacted to his request and it showed, as he pushes his fingers in and out with a forceful intensity.

He easily found your sweet spot, not letting you the time to process anything, you were a moaning mess at this point, clutching the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric while you begged him to slow down it was all too much for you.

“I will take you under my wig, and in exchange your soul would be mine forever” he declares.

Oh how ironic was it ? The problem himself proposing you this offer, it’s not like this morning you were literally trying to find a solution to get away from him.

You couldn’t reply back, only moans came out of that pretty mouth of yours making him chuckle, the intense heat that was building inside you, ready to be released at any moment was making you dizzy.

And then

He stops

Completely

Leaving you in a state of desperate longing, denied the released you craved.

“A-Alastor” you keep whining, moving your hips desperately.

“Accept my deal… just let it go” you couldn’t resist anymore you needed this so badly, you finally nod which made Alastor’s smile became more sinister as he starts to push his fingers in and out again, each stroke hitting your sweet spot harder, his other free hand comes towards yours to take, “it’s a deal then ?”.

The atmosphere changed drastically, Alastor form was becoming more demonic but you couldn’t care less at this point fear already consumed you, you were too absorb on reaching your climax now.

You hold his hand, nodding eagerly, moaning out a yes, and that’s all he needed to hear. Before you know it a collar appeared around your neck its chain dangling freely for Alastor to hold, which he does.

His fingers was buried deep inside your pussy while his other hand grasped the chain of your collar, you were his now forever there’s no going back.

Your body quivered with anticipation as you were reaching you peak, your tried to speak but your words were incoherent, but Alastor knew what you were about to say.

He suddenly buried his face between your legs, his fingers remaining inside you pumping in and out rapidly, while his tongue was devouring your pussy as if each taste was his last.

Your arched your back and with a shuddering gasp your body convulsed letting waves of pleasure washing over you, your moans getting louder as you finally came.

Your juices were all over his mouth and fingers. He eagerly took all in swallowing it without hesitation, while you were laying there panting and whimpering trying to regain some sense.

Alastor straighten himself, pulling out his fingers and bringing it to his mouth to lick it clean while fixing you with an intense gaze.

After regaining some sort of composure, a flicker of realization crossed over your features “n-n-n-noo what have I done !”, your voice rise in panic as you seat up, which made Alastor laugh with mockery each chuckle making you realize even more in what situation you were in now.

You tried to get off the bed but the grip that had Alastor on the chain held you firmly in place.

“Oh my dear, but I’m not done yet” he says before slamming you back into the bed.

Indeed he wasn’t done yet.

———————————————————————

It’s 3 am and I hope what I wrote made sense

[nunalastor]

Kid Alastor au

Alastor wasn’t someone you would call patient. His mother tried to instill that lesson into him, but he was always a stubborn child. He had made a gifts for everyone in the hotel, and the last person he needed to gift was Angel. And waiting all night for Angel to come back to the hotel wasn’t an option for him.

Alastor waited for Angel for about an hour until he decided to find Angel on his own. He always wanted to explore Pentagram city without a chaperone and most of the time he felt cooped up in the hotel. Despite everyone saying that Vox was untrustworthy, he made the tv studios he own sound very interesting. Plus Angel worked for him so it would be a good opportunity to see him preform.

It was pretty easy to find Vee Tower, Alastor just had to find the biggest and attention seeking building in the area. He managed to sneak in and look for studio that Angel’s boss owned.

Angel was wearing his robes, ready to finish his last scene for the night until he felt someone was tugging his robe. He turned to face this person and blood ran cold. Alastor was here in the studio with a present for him.

“Alastor why the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I just wanted to give you something, I couldn’t wait so I decided to go look for you.”

Alastor was now shoving the present to Angel and asking him to open it.

“Alastor now is not the time, you can’t be here! Who the hell was supposed to be watching you?”

“Husker but he fell asleep”

“Figures” Angel said with irritation and with a whispered, “goddamnt husk”

“ANGEL! Get your ass on set now!” Both flinched when they heard the moth demon shout.

“I’ll be there in just a sec Val!” Alastor could hear how terrified Angel was, but before he could ask, Angel picked him up and quickly went into the dressing room.

“Stay here and don’t come out until I get you! And you better believe we will be having a conversation about you sneaking out with Charlie about this!”

He shut the door and quickly made his way on set.

“Now that Angel Dust decided to grace us with his presence,” Angel could hear the frustration in the Val’s voice, “we can begin. Action!”

They started with the usual cringe filled dialogue, but before he could say the next line, he heard someone say “Why the fuck is there a kid in my studio!?”

Alastor had left the dressing room and decided to look around the set. But as he looked around, someone had spotted him and quickly informed Valentino so he could stop filming.

Angel ran over and tried to explain the situation. But Valentino wasn’t hearing it.

“Just get this fucking runt out of here or I’ll sell him to some sick fucks! Do you know how many freaks will want a piece of the baby Radio Demon?” Angel felt sick but he felt a tight grip on his wrist and saw Alastor cowering behind him.

“Don’t you ever think of touching him you sick fuck!” Angel shouted as all of his eyes glowed. He didn’t care how tall Val got and before he could lay a hand on either of them, the doors sprung open. It was Vox and Velvet and they looked as if hell was going to implode.

“Val stop what you’re doing!” Vox shouted

“This is between me and my bitch Vox!”

But before Vox could get a word in, Velvet pushed her phone into the moth’s face. It was of a live recording of his studio! The Vees looked and saw many of the employees had their phones out who were either recording or taking pictures.

“You were going live you fucking piss baby! Everyone heard what you just said!”

“Even for hell this is fucking bad! Didn’t you even think about our image!?” Vox shouted, “Everyone shut your phones OFF!!” All the phones in the room exploded. For while the everyone was quiet. When Vox finally composed himself, he said with his TV persona, “Everyone’s dismissed until further noticed.”

The TV demon turned his attention to Alastor and said, ��Even now you still manage to cause me trouble”

Vox dragged a pissed off Val to the elevator.

Angel and Alastor left in awkward silence. Alastor could feel the anger Angel was expressing. He knew he was going to be in big trouble.

“I’m sorry”

Angel just sighed, “I know”

He looked at the present Alastor was still holding and could see the boy was holding back tears.

“So what’s this gift you’ve went through all the trouble to give me” Alastor handed him the present and Angel saw it was a cute doll version of him.

Alastor thought it was a good idea to make doll versions of his friends of the hotel, similar to his grandmother’s voodoo dolls. Lucifer was kind enough to help it out even though his specialty was rubber ducks. But the doll that took Alastor the most time to complete was Angel Dust because of the unique design.

“Wow! This so cute Al! I love it!”

Alastor smiled and despite the trouble, he was glad to have given Angel the gift.

(I honestly planned to make this short, where Alastor sneaks in to the studio to give Angel a present and suddenly FBI knocks the door down)

👀

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

Follow up to my silly little Vees in Heaven AU that I might as well keep developing because people seem to like it lmao. This is my basic idea of how each of them individually would react to ending up in Heaven :)

Vox: Would probably behave like a normal person the longest because A; being in Heaven for an extended period of time could offer some Business Opportunites and B; he cares about his image so fucking much, and given that he was probably pretty well known while he was alive I don't think he'd want the people of Heaven knowing about all the evil business man shit like, at all. Though the monotony of Heaven would ABSOLUTELY drive him up the fucking walls. Nothing ever happens there. He can barely even network because Heaven doesn't have anything even RESEMBLING the overlord system down in Hell, there's no rank mobility for mortal souls. And that's assuming Sera even lets him DO anything because sinners ascending at all is a pretty fuckin new concept and she would at the very LEAST want to keep the news from spreading until she figures out what the fuck is going on. Either way it's not like he can do much because oh god what would PURPOSEFULLY going back to Hell do to his reputation!?!? He's stuck between a rock and a hard place and hating every second of it, but hey at least he can try to. Get some Heaven shit for Voxtech. And his head probably(?) isn't a TV anymore-

Velvette: Lasts for a couple months(or however long it takes her to get whatever information/materials she deems useful) before she starts causing problems on purpose. Think Respectless x100. It's even worse cause Sera has absolutely no experience dealing with this kinda shit. It's also terrible for Vel because nothing she's doing is getting her sent back down! As much as Sera wants to, she has to keep the "sinners ascending" thing contained until she figures out wtf is going on, which means no going back to Hell until Sera can discuss things with HER higher ups, which based off of how little Sera seems to know abt how Heaven works just. In general. Is probably nigh impossible. So Velvette's just stuck in Heaven, constantly attempting whatever she could possibly do to go back to Hell. Probably starts off small like just pissing Sera off on purpose every way she can, insulting people, etc because she also doesn't wanna do anything bad enough to get herself like. Executed or some shit. But as time presses on and shit just keeps Not Working she keeps upping the anti until she's wracked up several counts of arson and is being held in the closest thing Heaven has to a prison. Which she'll probably find ways to cause problems from there too Idk.

Valentino: He's in Heaven for like 5 seconds and then immediately just

Its like having Adam back only he's Worse and Does Not Want To Be Here.

Now I would like to note, all of this is very dependant on whatever plot points might be happening around them? Cause like I said in the original post there's def a lot of Heaven/Hell drama going on in the background that would definitely effect the plot of the AU, but I don't really know. What that is yet. Because it means doing more world building hcs then I am mentally equipped to make rn. So for now these are just what I think their ✨general reactions✨ would be + a stupid doodle of Val I did last night.

Also I need a name for this AU. My only real idea is Heavenly Vees? But that feels kinda basic idk. Maybe HeavenVee? Idk-

[ritualofcirice]

Fragile - Handle With Care (Vox x Reader)

🐑 ♡ Thank you to my darling beta, Oak, for going over this for me! Love you ♡ 🐑

For Vox, things like returning to the privacy of his room are never as simple as they should be.

Mature, No Warnings, F/M, M/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Abusive Relationships, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Fluff, Silly, Established Relationship, Fort Building, Lots and lots of bubble wrap, Oneshot, Ambiguous Gender Reader, POV Second Person, Character POV

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 3,427

This story exists because I was looking at unusual date ideas, and I skipped ahead after reading 'forty' (fort in my head) to bubble wrap. Bubble wrap fort. It seemed like exactly the kind of thing Vox needs.

Somedays he would wake up and that prick named Valentino would be mid hissy fit. It left Vox to question whether Valentino had let himself into the room or if he had stayed the night prior in a drunken stupor he couldn’t remember. Either way, it was a headache.

He couldn’t stand waking up to that noise.

Somedays, however, he would wake up and that prick named Valentino would launch something across the room in his tantrum.

Unfortunately for Vox, it had been one of those mornings. There had been no time for him to process what was happening. He’d lifted his head, groggy from sleep, to squint at the angry red blob doing interpretive dance in the wrong fucking room. Since there was no time for him to adjust his vision, there had definitely been no time for him to see the glass hurtling towards him at the speed of light.

A sharp static whine and the fizzle of exposed electronics erupted from his screen upon contact. Vox might have heard the glass shatter too if it weren’t for a malfunction in his circuitry, but he felt it. He felt every second of that headache while he forced Valentino out of his room and contacted his assistant to organise a repair as soon as possible.

What a fucking day.

He didn’t want to dwell on the rest of it either. When the time came for him to think about dragging himself into that penthouse suite, he’d been through a lot.

Valentino’s improvised publicity stunt had gone down exactly as both he and Velvette had warned. The damage control on that was ongoing, and Vox had told a select few individuals to continue to monitor the situation overnight.

Velvette had lost her mind after that. Suddenly it was his problem that Valentino was ‘off the leash’. Gee - it was like he didn’t already know the implications of Valentino’s actions and the way it would destroy their public image. She heard him try to talk sense into Valentino. So how was it his fault? The last thing he wanted to do for that whiny asshole was fluff his pillows and tuck him into bed all nice and calm.

Then there was you. Oh boy. He hadn’t even thought about you until it was too late. The soft glow of the elevator’s operating panel counted down the floors until he got to see your gorgeous, unwelcome face.

Any other day he would have seen you, any fucking one of them.

Vox tapped the tip of his thumb against each of his fingers one at a time, claw to claw. “Just go in and say hi sweetie, love to see you here, but you’ve got to go. Rough day, you know how it is.”

That was it. He could ask you to leave. It wasn’t like your arrangement was set in stone.

“No, no, nothing you need to worry about - I’ll have my assistant see you out. We can catch up over dinner. This weekend? Leave the arrangements to me. Bye, darling.” Vox continued his little roleplay, putting his soul into it. He needed that smile to be genuine.

The number on the control panel stopped its fickle display, and everything came to a grinding halt.

Yeah, he had it. He was so ready to give it his best performance.

And then he saw his room.

“What the fuck.” The words escaped him before he could stop them. “I mean, darling, I can see you’ve been busy.” Vox forced himself to move from the elevator, closer to the unidentified structure in his room. “Very, very busy.”

A monolith of bubble wrap stood proud above both of your heads. Around it, he counted three industrial sized rolls of wrap carpeting the floor. Each one came complete with a hellish trail of clippings, scrunched up balls, and discarded parts that made his screen glitch. There were at least a dozen empty rolls of duct tape to go along with the mess.

That wasn’t counting the packs of fresh tape.

You were front and centre in the chaos, and your back remained turned to him. He spied the headphones and debated his next move. There was no way he was going to approach you either. You wielded a pair of scissors like a homicidal maniac.

So he just watched at a respectable distance. There was no need to get close to you as you pulled the scissors back. The whole structure shook with a bang when you slammed them into the wall of bubble wrap.

With the amount of force behind it, you had pushed even parts of the handle through, and a curse fell from your lips. You whipped your hand away, shook it, then inspected your knuckles for any damage.

All the while, you were oblivious to him.

Vox secured a connection to your headphones and winced as music sprung to life in his head. Pop. Upbeat, easy, and popular as the name abbreviated. It was tacky, but he preferred it to some of the other genres you listened to.

♪ I got my hands all ready to touch your soul I'm gonna get the energy to wire me close to you Got my eyes on the prize I see Are you watching me, baby- ♪

That was enough of that.

You left the scissors wedged in the bubble wrap, attention redirected. In one smooth motion, you turned to scan the floor and launched yourself a good few steps across it with a squeak.

“Vox!” you exclaimed as you caught your balance. A string of breathless murmurs followed while you straightened yourself out. Two hands skimmed over the top of your head, and you took in a deep breath.

Then you let a hand fall to your hips. A single finger pointed towards the structure.

“You have no idea how long this has taken me.” He could make an educated guess. “I underestimated it so bad. Do you know how difficult it is to get bubble wrap to stand up by itself? It is crazy.”

He hated the way you studied him from where you stood. You had a bad habit of doing that, trying to analyse every ounce of information you could gather from him. Everytime, you read him like a book.

“Sorry, Vox.” You passed a cursory look back to your knuckles as you began to walk towards him. Every fiber of his being focused on you when you adopted a sultry tone. Closer. He couldn’t cope with the amount of shit you were putting him through mentally.

“It was going to be a nice surprise for when you got back. I heard you had a rough one.” Fingers traced the corner of his screen, but they never settled.

“Oh, it was nothing I can’t handle, you know how it’s like. Nothing I can’t handle,” Vox began, biting back the agitation at how he had repeated himself. “So let me get this straight. You mean to tell me you heard I had a rough day, and you built me a house. Inside of my room. Just because.” After he ran it by you, you nodded.

“It’s your third time getting your screen repaired this week, right?” you mused. “Try breaking your screen in there. You’ll be invincible.”

“I’m sure I could manage it.”

“And I’m sure you’d give it a good go,” you said. “Anyway, I’m happy to see you in one piece. Thanks for letting me come over tonight, I needed the break.”

You were animated in an instant, and Vox begruded the fact that you didn’t stay to welcome him better. Nor did he tell you to leave. All that preparation was for nothing as he was guided around the massive structure instead. A ladder stood by one of the sides you took him around, and he guessed that even Valentino would have been able to go inside without hunching from the sheer size of the thing.

“And here’s the front door,” you exclaimed upon reaching the gaping hole in the side of the tower.

There wasn’t even a wall.

Vox’s attention followed a set of fairy lights to where a wire hung down and dropped to the floor. Said wire was in the path of the scissors you had stabbed into the structure, resting on top of the silver blades. It trailed to an extension cord where it was plugged in. Its cords were tangled with three others into an indecipherable knot. At least he knew what they led to.

One led to a TV on a coffee table. The other led to a kettle. The last was your phone charger - phone attached.

“It’s a nightmare, I know. When it’s finished though I was thinking-” you stopped when you saw the position of the scissors and the wire. “Oh, yeah. That’s not good. I’m just going to push these back through, one sec.” The scissors clattered to the floor on the other side.

“Right, where was I? So, I’m thinking I doll it up a bit more, get some windows in, grab your duvet and some pillows. I brought some blankets with me too, they’re on your bed. I wrapped one of your decanters and a couple of glasses so we can have drinks inside-” you continued to ramble, telling him how you could set up a TV outside of the structure. Whatever he wanted, you were happy to provide. Then you could both relax in the fortress.

That was what you called it. The bubble wrap fortress.

What a fucking day, indeed.

Vox’s hand slithered around his neck while he eyed the nightmarish cable management once more. Your words became the background audio to the thoughts that started to overwhelm his already inundated system. It was hard not to look at the mess of blatant disregard for both organisation and fire safety without it consuming him.

How long had you been with him?

Long enough to know how to handle a few wires.

There was no way he could ignore it.

“Doll, do me a favour and pull down the lights.” Vox made a vague gesture in the direction of the bubble wrap fortress. Meanwhile, he took himself to the plug socket and unplugged all the leads. He felt the cord attached to the lights tug in his hand then fall slack as you placed the lights on the ground. It made it easier for him to untangle everything, and that way you could put them back up later to mitigate any scissor related incidents.

When Vox turned to see where you were, he found you gone. The scrape of scissors and sudden squeak of abused bubble wrap told him you had taken up your previous task though.

He rolled up his sleeves, his attention back on the chords. “Your idea for the bed is great and all, but the ground is a bit too hard to sleep on,” Vox said while he worked.

You let out a hum at this. There was a lilt in your tone, though it was impossible to tell whether you were thinking about what he said or humming in agreement. When you fell into silence, save for the occasional pop of a bubble, he just assumed you agreed.

“We could move your bed into it.” Your suggestion had Vox stumped. “Mind you it's probably too heavy to shift…”

“What about the mattress?” Vox replied idly, his fingers nimbly unpicking the nasty tangle of wire. Your enthusiasm left him smiling as you let out an audible ‘oh’. He didn’t have to see your face to watch it light up. That expression was burnt into his memory for him to replay.

“Good idea honey, that solves that problem then. You’re the best. That could have been some nasty backache tomorrow.”

“I strive for greatness.” Vox replied under his breath, and more ideas were thrown between the pair of you as time drew on.

Windows were added to the fortress. Curtains soon followed, and the lights were reinstalled along the seam of the interior where the wall met the ceiling.

“On the count of three,” you began. Vox tightened his grip on the handles of the mattress, a quick squeeze reassuring him he had a good hold. “One. Two. Three!” The mattress sagged in the centre where it continued to fight back despite being hoisted into the air.

Vox noted the way you grit your teeth, expression focused and unblinking as you moved the behemoth of a glorified cushion. No words were shared until you placed it down inside the fortress. Your joyous comment about how easy it was overshadowed by the way your words were formed on thin whisps of breath.

He tried to calculate how much energy you must have exhausted setting up the fortress. You seemed slow to lift your arms when you spoke. Your steps weren’t staggered, but you walked in a heavy footed way that screamed tired. Yet you pushed through it all.

So he did too.

Maybe it was the competitive streak in him. He hadn’t kicked you out yet though, even if he had prepared to do that the moment he saw you. Then like you usually did, you sort of bamboozled him with your nonsense until he couldn’t think straight and he was stuck for the ride.

Still, no amount of good will could shake the frustration he felt at the day.

Vox took himself to a roll of the bubble wrap and cut himself a section. He let himself focus on the task. Cutting everything out was theraputic in a way. Five ‘v’ shapes later, and he had both layered on top of each other and duct taped together. It made for a decently thick letter. Then he moved onto ‘o’.

All the while, you continued to set up the inside of the fortress. Neither of you spoke for a while, and the only sounds that permeated the air was the rip of duct tape, the shuffling of your feet, and the click of various buttons.

With everything functional in the fortress, you stepped back to appreciate the scene. Seven hours of hard work completed. The smile you wore was well deserved.

It seemed Vox had kept himself busy too. When you turned to see what he was doing, you found him sat on the floor. He was hunched over his own project with ‘voxt’ spelt out on the floor in bubble wrap. The ‘e’ was midway through construction.

While you bet his back would kill from being hunched over the way he was, you appreciated seeing him focus that way. There were no fake smiles. He just concentrated on his task with a flat expression like he didn’t have to pretend.

You picked up a roll of duct tape that hadn’t been used yet and went to sit beside him. As you slunk to the floor, his eyes focused on you in passing. One pair of scissors later, and you were working on the ‘k’.

Matching the style, it didn’t take you long to finish up your letter, and the pair of you got to work sticking them on the front of the fortress. It was time for you to admire your handiwork again, this time with Vox at your side.

Then it hit you. “It’s a shame we don’t have a fish tank in there too.”

The moment the words fell from your lips, Vox clapped his hands together, and turned to you with the utmost clarity.

“Oh, have I got just the thing!” he exclaimed. You were left to wonder what the ‘thing’ was as your lover vanished into the depths of his room. There was a series of irritated comments and grunts, and you heard various objects being moved. Then he returned.

“You better still work,” he told the round plastic object in his hands. It had a clear dome on the top, and a long wire that Vox plugged into the extension. He took to the fortress where he knelt down to place the object in the centre of the ‘room’. You followed his command when he mentioned something about turning off the fairy lights. Meanwhile, he dimmed the main lights and ensured what faint glow remained was a rich blue.

It made you feel like you were floating in the ocean.

“Fuck yes!” Vox’s triumphant cheer forced your focus back to him. From his knees, he stared up at the walls of the fortress, and you felt yourself still. It was hard not to at the scene.

You absorbed the way the walls lit up with the glow of the sun beneath the sea. Pale blues flickered like waves across the scene with sharks cast in bright silhouettes. They swam across the fortress as the light turned from within the dome, creating your very own aquarium.

And in the middle of it all: Vox.

He appreciated the scene as much as you, not moving from his place on the floor to watch the lights in your fortress. You couldn’t see his expression with his back to you, but you could see the way he let himself exist in the moment, wholeheartedly absorbed by what was around him. All of your efforts had gone into ensuring he did just that.

Which meant it was time for you to reap the rewards, and so you slunk to this side. Quiet not to disturb him, you shared his space. As you reached for one of the blankets, you got the pleasure of seeing his face. The lights reflected off his screen and created the very pattern he admired while he smiled at you with all the jaded innocence someone in Hell could ever hope to show. It was a rare moment where someone found solace from the shit that their circumstances put them through.

You understood that.

Inside your padded fortress, nobody could throw things at you. Nobody could hurt you. Everything was soft, and everything was designed to make you happy. Kind of like how Heaven was supposed to be, but you couldn’t care less about going somewhere else. You wanted to be by his side in your own pocket of happiness together.

“How long have you had this lamp?” you asked Vox, and he rolled his shoulders. He slid an arm around your waist after pulling the blanket across himself too. Every part of you screamed to lean into him, but you reached for the decanter first.

“I’d say we’re going on three years for that dusty old thing. The aquarium is miles better, so I’ve never needed to use it. I’m glad it came in handy,” he told you. “If either of the other two saw it, I’d never live it down. Val is insufferable anyway, but Velvette would have a field day with this.”

You rested against Vox’s shoulder with both of your drinks poured, and mulled over the pretty lights. “Maybe. Think they’re jealous? It is a nice light.”

Vox laughed at your statement, and told you not to be stupid. It would end up being an ongoing joke for the rest of his existence in Hell. Nevertheless, you admired the tiny glowing sharks.

The feel of his arm around you perfected the feeling of safety within the fortress. Heat seeped from his body, and you relaxed into him until every part of you that you could physically make touch him did. You needed him as much as he needed someone to bubble wrap that head of his.

Even then, it wasn’t enough. Your time together was fleeting at best, and you were forced to savour every moment while you tried to forget that fact. And sometimes those other thoughts won.

“Hey Vox?” you began. “I’m sorry if all of this was a lot to come home to.”

“Don’t be,” his tone was serious. No business casual from him. “I like it. Sure the spontaneity felt like a slap in the face but…”

You didn’t push him when he trailed off.

“But I appreciate you looking out for me. Sometimes you make the shittiest days feel like an afterthought.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Only sometimes. Can’t have an overlord going soft now, can we?” You shot him daggers, but the smile couldn’t be helped as he rolled his eyes at your display. The way his drink disappeared told you that any softness you had experienced was about to disappear. Not that you were going to complain though.

He didn’t give you a chance to use your mouth for anything other than a kiss.

[star-junk]

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Alastor x ReaderOC, Vox x ReaderOC, Future Lucifer x ReaderOC

Second Person POV, Change of POV, Slow burn (or fast burn - really moving through the plot quickly), please forgive the typos.

Warnings: Dark Themes: Altered state of consciousness, possessive behavior, mention of dv, non-con elements in the future, cannibalism and just things not being nice--it's Hell.

Speaking of not nice, Alastor... still not sure if I'll go for the canon asexuality or if I'll deviate so just keep that in mind. Also, operating under assumptions on Season 2 so pls walk with me

Only Bones

Chapter 1:

“Extermination Day is canceled!”

It’s the first thing you hear emerging from the cellar under the apartment building where you and other sinners hunkered down on Exterminations Day since your arrival to Hell two years ago.

“What?” You ask, processing the news.

Your neighbors are just as confused coming up behind you. Mr. Marion, an amphibian demon stops someone passing by to ask what’s going on.

“Extermination Day is canceled, Lucifer’s daughter kicked angelic ass! They flew back to heaven with their tales between their legs!!”

Oh. Really?

Though the lack of carnage on the street seems to confirm that. Still, you walk over to the electronic store around the block to be sure and...

News666 is providing special coverage of what took place while you and your neighbor’s took cover. A growing group of demons already gathers in front of the screens featuring Carly or Harley defending her Hotel against hordes of angels. That’s, wow, that’s quite amazing. The scene then cuts to a static image of the Radio Demon doing not so well against one of the more powerful looking angels, Katie talks about that for a bit before the coverage is switched to a tiny one eyed demon. The crowd chuckles and awws as she fumbles through her interview. After getting the general gist of the current situation you hurry over to check on the shop, more immediately concerned about that than the power vacuum left the news anchors kept going on about. You hope your business was left intact, unlike last year.

Jo, is already waiting at the front of the shop leaning against the delivery van.

“Guess that deal with the cannibals is really working out, huh?” The imp says, pointing a thumb toward the store which was, in fact, left intact.

You chuckle, “Guess so. Glad you’re okay Jo.” You answer and proceed to mess his pale locks. “And how many times have I told it's not a 'deal'?"

"Hey!" He swats your hand away.

"Seems like little Ms. Morningstar saved our butts this time too, so double the win.”

"Oh man, yeah she was so badass!"

“Are you guys open today?” A mummified demon girl asks, interrupting your convo. There's more people behind her. You suppose now that they won’t be immediately double killed, people are really eager to celebrate.

You quirk an eyebrow at Jo. “You up for it, kid?”

“I don’t know, last time we took the day off after an Extermination… ” He says, inspecting his claws.

“I’ll pay you double.”

“Let me just park the van in the back.”

Great! You turn to your loyal customers. “Give us a few minutes, we should be opening soon!”

That day’s earnings were record high. You think to pay Rosie a visit to thank her for the Pie Shop’s promised protection once the dust settles and her cannibals regroup.

—------

Sometimes it surprised you to think that life in Hell was not as bad as it used to be when you first arrived. You just had to adapt.

So adapt you did. 'Stay calm, but observant and sharp' your grandmother used to say. Advice you never took too seriously in life but here, things were different.

But also the same.

A strict class hierarchy existed, with Overlords and Royalty at the very top and the rest left to suffer or get by as best they could and of course this life was meant to suck, but still… some people truly weren't that bad.

There are some demons who won’t attack or take advantage of you—not right away, at least and that meant something when this was meant to be the end of the road for everyone here. Others kept to themselves, appearing to get by just fine for the most part. You were one of those, and it had worked out for you so far. Even got a little lucky, got your business going and everything without having to step on any necks!

At night, you sometimes wondered if things could have been different in life, had you made different choices.

Been less stupid.

But what’s the use of regret, all that remains before you is the present and the hellfire of eternity before you. Harlot’s or whatever her name is was definitely delusional, it’s what you thought when news of her Hotel spread. It’s what you still think even now after its Grand Reopening.

________________________________

After the fanfare came and went, things in hell more or less remained the same, at least on the surface, but a peculiar air of uncertainty and edge remained. Even the Turf War that usually ensued Extermination Day ended swiftly with most territories staying with the same boundaries from the days before.

That was his assessment when walking around in Pentagram CIty for the first time since. The tense corners of his mouth like sharp daggers still pointed upward, even with the slowly healing wound on his torso.

Yet Alastor was pleased to learn his reputation remained mostly intact despite the… unfortunate outcome of his encounter with Adam. After all, not many could claim survival against the leader of the Exorcists. And if there were any doubts of his abilities, at least other demons were smart enough not to voice them directly to his face. The same vermin from before still showed him the same respect, the day they stopped doing that will be the day he'll worry.

His thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sight of a line going around the corner.

Oh, This is new. It had been a while since he strolled through this part of the city.

Humming to himself he followed it, thinking it might be a new entertainment club or something equally���but then a sweet savory smell hit him.

It was a Pie Shop of all things!

"Apothecary Pie Shop" The sign read. Oh what a curious name for a business that was.

His back straightens, twirling his mic propmting the crowd make way but before he can set foot on the shop’s stairs, a male imp bursts out shouting at the top of his lungs:

“Folks, we’re all out of pies!” The people already gathered curse at him, some even throw trash at the poor soul. “Oh fuck you too—!” He says dodging an empty glass bottle before his eyes finally land on Alastor. “Oh shiiit!”

“Why hello there!” He greets, “I was just strolling around the neighborhood when I came upon your fine establishment. I had never seen it before so I thought I would take a look. Seems I was a bit late though.”

“No, no… I think we might still have some p-pies left for you… S-sir.” The poor imp fumbles with the doorknob behind him, hastily trying to get back inside. His display of deference puts Alastor in a magnanimous mood.

“Oh that’s quite alright, young man. No need, I’ll just be sure to stop by some other time. Bye now!” He says waving as he continues on his way.

Good to know some businesses still know how to provide good service even in Hell!

_____________________________________

Going to Cannibal Town always makes you nervous, well aware you are one of the few allowed to come and leave in one piece as promised by Rosie herself. Jo had offered to come with you, but you decided it would be best if he didn’t. Still the hungry stares you got only made you grip the van’s steering wheel tighter. The town reminded you of the suburb you moved into the last year you were alive, all order and niceties hiding something dark underneath.

Pulling up, you take out the pies as quickly as possible, in-and-out is what you aim for. You’re halfway up the path to her shop when Rosie spots you pushing the loaded utility cart.

“Oh, but if it isn't Nuria!” She calls from the porch where she's having afternoon tea with fellow company.

You wave, doing your best to show a genuine smile. “Mrs. Rosie! How do you do this hellish afternoon?”

She excuses herself from the table to come closer, her white serrated teeth framed by black lips tilt upward in a radiant smile. “Very happy to see you safe and sound after everything that has occurred, my dear!”

Your perfect opening, “Well, we have your people to thank for that, they were all over the News. Very brave and heroic.”

“Thank you for saying so, dear. They are a sturdy bunch for sure, though I must admit we did incur losses.” She says, procuring a fan to dry the tears at the corners of her eyes. "I'm just happy their sacrifice was not in vain."

And now you feel awful for bringing it up at all. “I- I’m sorry, I didn't… What I mean to say is that I came because I wanted to thank you for my shop as well.” You rush, motioning to the cart full of packaged pies. “These don’t have your preferred filling, but I hope everyone likes them all the same.”

“Aren’t you precious, Nuria, you didn’t have to go through the trouble. After all, it’s all part of the contract!” She answers, placing one slender cold hand on your shoulder. You try not to shiver.

And yeah, it was part of the contact but still. “I truly had to, Mrs. Rosie, I am eternally grateful to you for taking a chance on me.”

“Look at you,” a hand to her chest, “you sure know how to give a gal good lip service. Won’t you stay for tea? An old friend will be stopping by soon, he’s a riot! Such an entertaining character that he is! Theo, dear, would you kindly take these inside?” She wraps an arm around your shoulders already pulling you toward the porch and that’s when you have to tap out.

“I really can’t, Mrs. Rosie.” You twirl around taking the hand on your shoulders into yours as if you were about to deliver devastating news to show how terribly sorry you were. “I have to get going. We have to prep for tomorrow, a big day awaits us!”

You weren’t lying about that at least.

“Oh alright, I understand, you’re a busy woman and all.” She relents.

“Thank you, Mrs. Rosie. And should we be expecting a new shipment of ingredients for your custom orders soon?”

“Absolutely!” She winks and lets you be on your way.

It never ceased to baffle the Cannibal Overlord how such a hard working girl ended up down here. Life, or the afterlife in this case, was really unfair sometimes—but then again she still had yet to get the full story out of Nuria herself. So who knows, that would have to be tea for another day.

[hiemaldesirae]

Swap AU:

Charlie and Vaggie both know That Vox is there on Lucifer's behalf, but once they see Vox freak out because of Alastor's Shadow (Alastor took over the Shadow and was gently petting Vox's rabbit ears (just how sleepy Vox likes it), before he spoke through the radio to Vox, saying I love you.) Causing the overlord to have a panic attack and blow the power in half of pride. So Vaggie actually gets pretty overprotective of Vox, seeing Alastor as Vox's Adam.

This panic attack is also what allows Husker and Vox to setup their contracted souls and they start building outside of the hotel. Little restaurants, and a gambling joint (where the biggest prize is TVs you don't have to rent, which Charlie thinks is pretty awesome. Not even Nobles have their own TVs, so this will definitely bring in the spotlight for the hotel!) One of the surviving contracted souls of Vox's is a goetia, who can go to earth, and Vox uses them have the hotel offer earthly goods.

At the overlord meeting...since the remaining Vees are contracted Overlords, they aren't invited. Only Alastor and Rosie can come for the Entertainment District and Cannibal town. Vox is on a high dose of (I think it's Xanax they give you for this? I know it's what they gave me to take during my flights because of the anxiety for flying so I'm guessing it may be the same idk) meds so he can get through the meeting unfortunately, Husker can only sit on one of his sides....Who takes the other seat beside Vox? Why Alastor of course.

Who catches Vox's hand with his own under the table, giving it a squeeze and rubbing his thumb over Vox's pulse point in his wrist while Carmilla talks.

While Husk brings up the Angel's head, and points out it could be the cause of the second extermination coming up, Vox is beginning to slowly freak out. He's glad when Carmilla and Zestial say the meeting is over, and he stands up about to jerk his hand away--when Alastor kisses it, murmuring "I'm sorry, my beloved. I'll see you soon." And Husk hisses, grabbing Vox and they hurry back to the hotel.

Vox leaves the lights on in his room that night, but it doesn't stop Alastor from visiting, and covering his precious picture box up with the softest blanket he can conjure....and he also spots the large Cyan scar on Vox's chest, and tears fill the deer demons eyes--he hadn't ment too, he thinks claws digging into his palms. Never you Vox....it'll never happen again. Once I have your soul under my hand no one will hurt you again...myself included. You'll be safe right beside me, where you belong.

oh my GOD vaggie and vox friendship theyre so precious to me <3 wait okay so does al like. send his shadow to the hotel since they cant really get rid of it anyway and they dont know yet that al can posess his shadow ? or what is really going on here im a little lost sorry. the image of al taking the opportunity to stay close to vox when hes in his most vulnerable state just kinda scratches something in my brain though... hes SUCHHH a freak about it all get a JOB stay away from him

OH !!! thats so cool. wait so before that did they just like. have nothing at all lmfao?? cause vox was hiding away or something? cause i dont know if i can image the hotel looking like the shabby rundown mess it was in the show considering the Gambling and Media overlords are here to help run it lmfao. also a GOETIA? my god,, by jove how did that happen

oh this is. oh thats so.... URhrgdhjkfd... the fact that alastors idea of love and posession is so warped that he can only think of owning voxs soula s a means to keep him safe... and he regrets it all so much but its not something that he can ever properly express because he knows vox wouldnt listen and would just try to run away again... im gonna be SICK nonny dont do this to me. i hate ithere

AND YOU DIDNT ANSWER MY QUESTION LAST TIME ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT THEY GET A HAPPY ENDING !!!!!! :sob: im so scared nonny i really am what are you doing with them....

[lildevildarlingsmiles]

(The top image is basically just me tryna figure out each character’s heights and to see how well my character and my friend’s character fits into the aesthetic of Hazbin Hotel^^)

•The BENT Page• (Part One)

A little insight to my HH Oc, Bernadette/Bendy—

Alright, so firstly… Bernadette had originated from my (still present) Batim Oc named Rene Benjamin Sawyer, or “Mr Sawyer” for short. And there’s quite a bit for Mr Sawyer regarding their backstory and all that, but the gist of it is that, essentially they were an employee at Joey Drew Studios. They had helped out some bit in the animation department and whatnot, but their main job took place in the voice acting department where they did the voice for Bendy (which had been for some of the later animations) and eventually they were soon taken into the darkness surrounding the studio with the ink and secrets of it… whereas they didn’t last long before they had any real idea about what was actually going on behind closed doors, they too where lost in the ink; or rather drowned in it and it was all in the idea Joey Drew had of using a soul to essentially bring Bendy to life since the first attempt had ‘failed’ essentially, in his eyes. And he’d thought that a soul was all he needed… and who else would be perfect other than Rene Sawyer! The voice actor of the cartoon themselves!— so that’s just a bit of information for that Oc of mine.

———

Now Bernadette is the name of my HH Oc. He is sorta like the continuation of Rene Sawyer in a sense. Basically Rene is him, just before he had died in 1947. You can kinda see where I’m going with this already I’m sure! Heh! but I suppose he’s like a crossover type’a character considering his current backstory for his human life prior to Hell in Hazbin Hotel.

Now Bernadette himself has about two different variant storylines for his early days in Hell. (This is mostly due to me not being able to choose just which one I like most for him lmfao)

The first storyline is this: He died in 1947 when he was drowned in ink…but he didn’t actually reach Hell at this time, rather he was stuck in the ink machine’s looping cycle for years… (which was likely around 7 or so) before finally getting out and discovering that he actually had died already… as previously he was stuck in the delusion of thinking that he was still alive and just trapped…but once he finally had gotten out from the Ink Machine and the torment from it… he’d finally find himself in Hell. (This one in particular is sorta like the crossover version of their death lol)

The second storyline is this: So instead of ending up in the loop of the ink machine, they would immediately find themselves now in Hell in the year 1947 upon drowning in the ink… (There’s uh nothing much else to it than that, I know kinda bland lol)

——————————————————Nevertheless the main parts of their story are this…

…Now either way he arrived in Hell, this part roughly remains about the same. But he’d have the form of the cartoon he voiced in the past; to which it then starts that sometime after Hell, wether it’d be a few years from their initial arrival to Hell or not they’d eventually get the gist of things and how Hell works and start building up their ‘animation empire’, ;given that they had been a fairly popular cartoon character on earth, I’d imagine they’d probably be recognized to some extent considering how they did become Bendy… or at least a form of him. Fast forward to the early-mid fifties and this is where things began progressing… and he was finding himself in a difficult situation with all the changes of time and advances of technology and whatnot. It was… at least a bit overwhelming to him.

So in his need for keeping up with the times to keep his relevancy, Bernadette would have found himself teaming up with another sinner, who’d had the knowledge and resources Bernadette needed at the time… and who else would have been perfect enough than That obnoxious tv head…? Yup, he’d end up partnering up with Vox. (Though this was obviously before the present-day Vox, so he was just a bit different. And as a fun lil’ side note, I personally like this idea of Vox having been a business/sales person who died from having a tv dropped on him… So… that’s exactly my head canon for him in this lmfao) but either way, I imagine he’d have the skill set, knowledge of the newer technology that Bernadette wasn’t too keen on, to be able to help out the animation business in this time…

—

Okay… So I’m gonna have to pause it here for this post as this is a bit longer than I had anticipated it to be, but don’t fret! I’m in the process of creating another post that’ll have the second half of Bernadette’s backstory there!

So in the meantime… ☞ Remember to Stay Tuned~! As I’ll be back with more! ☻︎

[dario-the-deer]

No Stranger to the Flame [Pt 5]

[x]

Dario could feel the downturn in energy from his caprinae partner - shifting his eyes down to the journal, the last messages from Milae and Yun drove daggers through the stag's heart.

"Verdandi... oh." His hand moved over his mouth, unable to think of anything else to say. Though significant time had passed, it felt like just yesterday that the pair had seen her. "Oh."

Pacing along the side of a partially collapsed wall, the half-breed slowed to lean against it, pushing the bone helm further down his face. How the fuck do we fight a Norn?... Do we even fight?

"How... why? I feel like Liam would have... known, you know? If that's really what we're up against, I- I don't know what to do."

What is there to be done?

The intrusion caught him off guard this time, prompting a small jolt. Dario maintained whatever composure he had left before engaging.

We can't leave her.

Why not?

She's... important. To us, to the Rebellion. She's a person.

There was a tense pause, allowing Dario enough time to realize that time was not still as it was before.

Where does that bestow culpability onto you? Do you not keep your obligations to the Commander? Do you not wish to protect the seidkonur?

Dario felt a building rage in his chest. Former seidkonur... and of course I do, but how do I stand by and let things happen? How the fuck can anyone?

Your tone, unga dádýr. You would do well to mind it. The omnipresent voice was noticeably irate. Must I remind you of the last time you intervened for another?

Images of that courtyard; of Vox. The scene played out in what felt like hundreds of simultaneous visions to the deer half-breed.

Stop! Stop. I understand.

You may not believe it, but you have more autonomy than you think. I would advise you to consider it wisely.

In an instant, the air felt lighter - the tension Dario had built in his shoulders released, causing him to slide slowly down the wall. His hands cradled his head as he sighed deeply.

"I don't know what we can do."

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Nicole Narea at Vox:

Protests against the war in Gaza have spread to college campuses across the country in the days since students at Columbia University were arrested last week, evoking images of historical student protests that were met with similar backlash.

Recent protests have not yet reached the scale of the major student protests of the late 1960s against the Vietnam War or the 1980s against South African apartheid. But on campus, they may be “the largest student movement so far” of the 21st century, said Robert Cohen, a professor of social studies and history at New York University who has studied student activism. In recent decades, there were mass protests against the Iraq War, as part of the Occupy Wall Street movement, and after the killing of George Floyd, but they were primarily happening off campus. Just like the protesters that came before them, the students who are now being arrested, and in some cases suspended, for setting up encampments on their campuses in solidarity with Palestinians in Gaza have been demonized by politicians. The vast majority are peaceful protesters who have been overshadowed by a minority of bad actors, some potentially not even affiliated with the universities where these demonstrations are taking place.

Some of their demands, including divestiture from firms that support Israel’s war and occupation, mirror demands that past protesters made to divest from South Africa’s apartheid government. And their discontent has similarly intensified in the face of police crackdowns. But there are key differences as well. Besides their smaller size, the present-day protests have faced swifter suppression than their predecessors dealt with. In perhaps the most extreme example at the University of Texas-Austin, administrators quickly dispatched police with horses and riot gear absent any signs of violence at a pro-Palestinian protest; charges were later dropped against all 57 arrested. And that signals a deterioration of schools’ commitment to protecting free speech that emerged in the 1960s. “I think that the fact that this has happened so quickly is unprecedented. And the call for suppression of speech is much more public,” Cohen said.

[...]

What today’s protests do and don’t have in common with the antiwar protests of the 1960s

Columbia students famously occupied university buildings in 1968 in protest against segregation and the Vietnam War before the police forcibly removed them. They wanted Columbia to end the construction of a segregated gymnasium nearby in Morningside Park and to cut ties with the Institute for Defense Analyses, which was researching weapons development for the US government’s war effort.

This all happened against a backdrop of broader anti-war and anti-racism protests across the US, both on and off campuses, that helped energize the student movement. Student protests swept college campuses in the 1960s, involving thousands of students and hundreds of universities. Those protests remain the biggest in history; the current protest movement is “clearly growing, but it’s nowhere near that scale,” said Angus Johnston, an adjunct professor at the City University of New York studying student protests. The tactics employed by protesters in the 1960s were also vastly different. While many started and remained peaceful, at their most extreme, students rioted, barricaded themselves in buildings, fought with police, burned down ROTC buildings, and raided draft boards to steal or destroy files. They culminated in the Kent State massacre in 1970, when members of the Ohio National Guard shot at a crowd of unarmed student protesters, killing four and injuring nine.

The recent protests, on the other hand, have not gone anywhere near as far. “What we are seeing in this spring’s wave of protest is students who are not engaging in property damage. They are not for the most part occupying buildings. They are certainly not initiating physical altercations on any large-scale level,” Johnston said. “In the late ’60s, what we were seeing was protests that were much more aggressive in their tactics than the ones that we’re seeing today.”

Some students vocally opposed these tactics in the 1960s. Notably, Donald Trump’s former attorney general Bill Barr was among a group of Columbia students, known as the Majority Coalition, who banded together to defend the university buildings from protesters and were incensed that they could not attend class. Student opposition to today’s protests has highlighted antisemitic incidents at or around some protests, raising concerns about their safety. For instance, one student at Columbia wrote an op-ed in Haaretz with the headline, “Jewish Students are No Longer Safe at Columbia University.” He wrote that a masked student on campus showed him a Hamas insignia and said he was “with them,” and that another protester near campus shoved him against a wall. At the same time, Jewish students have also participated in the protests, which have been largely peaceful.

[...] One way today’s protests resemble those of the 1960s, however, is that they’ve escalated when university administrators have sent in the police to break them up. Both now and then, students who did not participate in the initial or more radical elements of the protests resented being characterized as confrontational and disruptive. [...]

Today’s protests have a lot in common with anti-apartheid protests of the 1980s

A better analogy for today’s protests might be the anti-apartheid protests of the 1980s. Students built up their power in university governance and assembled lobbying groups throughout the 1970s. They also became more of a political force when the voting age was lowered from 21 to 18 in 1972. That meant that, by the time protests against South African apartheid gained steam in the 1980s, they had accumulated more political influence and were better organized. Their demands of university administrations were practically identical to what protesters are asking for today. They wanted their universities to divest from firms that supported or profited from South African apartheid. And they were effective: 155 universities ultimately divested. And in 1986, the US government also bowed to pressure from protesters and enacted a divestment policy. Along with increasing protests within South Africa led by organizations including the African National Congress, the Pan Africanist Congress, and trade unions, that kind of international pressure helped force the white South African government to begin negotiations that ultimately ended apartheid, at least officially.

But protesters also didn’t face much pushback in the ’80s because there was a “certain embarrassment among elites in the United States that there was complicity with South Africa’s white government,” Farber said. “It was kind of pushing against an open door,” he said. “It wasn’t really a polarizing issue.” That differs from today, when the Gaza war has revealed a major generational divide and there doesn’t exist the same kind of consensus among Americans.

The divestment movement against the apartheid government — which started with universities and then was adopted by the US federal government — also arguably packed a bigger punch due to vulnerabilities in South Africa’s economy, including the fact that many of its goods could be substituted with products from elsewhere. Assuming that divesting from Israel would be possible (and some say it is not), the scholarship on such divestment movements’ effectiveness is mixed. It would be very difficult to effectively boycott or ban imports of all Israeli goods, many of which do not have substitutes or at least would be hard to replace. That includes computer technology, medical devices, drugs, and advanced machinery in heavy industry. That doesn’t necessarily mean that divestment from Israel would not have a significant impact on public perception of the war in Gaza and the Israeli occupation. But the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement — which predates the current protests — has so far had a negligible economic impact.

Vox analyzes the comparison and differences between the current college campus protests against Israel's genocide campaign targeting Gaza and past protests.

See Also:

The Guardian: US faculty speak up and stand alongside student Gaza protesters

[storm-angel989]

Hey I was wondering if you could do valentine's daughter where she gets hurt during an exterminator.

Like let's say she is six or something and she gets curious on why she has to be in her room on a specific day and the vees won't tell her anything just that it's a 'special' day.

So one day when no one is looking she go's outside to see what so 'special' about it.

Just to be chase by some angles luckily the Vees see her with one of the many cameras in the city and save her. But she get a scar from it.

How would the vees react to it?

Also hope your have a nice day!

Hi All,

This is the prompt this post should answer- in all my tiredness last night I posted to the wrong request! Rest assured I'm working on this request above- so many google docs and ideas, so little time!

Anonymous asked:

Dude, what about a Valentino x Daughter! Reader where they forget the door open or something like that, and she decides to go out (she's like, 3/4 years old) and when she comes back, she's holding a random cat and wants to keep it. I think it would be pretty funny lol

Also, i love your content!! 💕

So sorry!

<3 Mandy

Hi friend,

Such a busy weekend! But this light topic is one that popped into my head right before bed- so I had to write it! Enjoy!

Best,

Mandy

“What do you mean you can’t find the baby?” Valentino screamed as he slammed his hands into Vox’s desk. “Where the fuck is my daughter?

In front of him, images flashed. Inside the building, outside, all throughout pentagram city. A still screen time stamped five minutes ago of his daughter wandering out the backdoor, propped open with nothing more than a wedge of cardboard. 

“I told those fuckers,” Vox began. 

“Find her, now,” Valentino cut him off. “I don’t care what you do, I’m going outside to…”

“Daddy, kitty!” 

Both men turned around to where Reader stood, cradling a black and white cat. They stared at her in a mix of horror and disbelief. 

“Bebita, are you okay?” Valentino demanded as he ran to his daughter.

She took a step back. “Daddy no. You’ll scare kitty.”

Valentino stared at the creature clutched in his daughter's arms. Not only was the cat almost as big as she, but it truly was taking being held in a toddler’s death grip incredibly well. 

“Where the fuck did you find a cat?” He demanded. 

“Outside,” Reader replied nonchalantly. “Kitty needs home.”

“Oh fuck no, kitty does not need a home,” Vox began.

An expression crossed Valentino’s face. He stood up and turned to Vox. “You’re the one who lost my daughter. You tell her she can’t keep it. And no cheating.”

Vox set his jaw and stared at his niece and her newfound companion. “Reader. Sweetheart. You can’t…give Uncle Voxxy the cat.” He knelt down and reached out as if to take the cat from his arms.

To his dismay, the cat hissed.

“My kitty!” She yelled and she turned away. “My kitty!”

“You know what, fine. Keep the cat, I don’t care,” Vox said with defeat. “I can’t say no to you.”

“My kitty!” Reader sang as she turned away. “My kitty need snack. Daddy? Snacks.”

Valentino glanced at Vox with an amused expression on his face. He turned away to follow his daughter back to the elevator.

“Your responsibility now,” he said aloud to Vox. “Feed it. Clean it. And if something happens to it, its on you.”

“Fuck me,” Vox groaned as the door shut. “Fuuuuccckkkkk”

[voxofthevoid]

JJK 214 has healed me

I’m sure the upcoming chapters will fuck me up all over again, but that’s future me’s problem. Anyway, Sundays/Mondays now seem to be "Vox screams about the new JJK chapter” hours on my blog now. This time, it’s going to be “screaming about Yuuji” hours specifically. 

Spoilers, thoughts, and a shitload of images under the cut.

Yuuji???? Yuuji!!!!!!

That was my reaction from the first to the last page on my first readthrough, and honestly, it hasn’t changed much even after I reread a few times and processed...all that.

Seriously, Yuuji, what the fuck are you made of.

Sukuna also seems to be thinking that, which is hilarious. I have a feeling his standards for “twisted” are pretty high, so him calling Kenjaku that both cracks me up and makes me wonder what kind of alterations they made to Yuuji, exactly.

That said, I think I misunderstood the extent of Yuuji’s injuries last chapter. I got the impression, from the following panels, that Sukuna had punched through Yuuji’s midsection:

But that doesn’t seem to be the case. There’s some (inconsistent?) damage to his clothes from the punch, but Yuuji didn’t, in fact, become a donut.

No blood on Sukuna’s fist here. And, of course, there’s Yuuji himself in Chapter 214:

The front of his jacket looks intact (but isn’t that the part that seemed torn up in Chapter 213, or is that supposed to just look crumpled?), but there’s a hole in the back. Animanga cloth logic, I suppose. Other than inhuman durability, I don’t think Yuuji is healing himself. His little finger doesn’t seem to have grown back. And next chapter, I guess we’ll see if the tip of the ear Sukuna sliced off continues to be missing; the last panel showed it intact, but that could just be inconsistent drawing. Or maybe it’s the other side, who knows. Manga panels confuse me sometimes.

Anyway, even without being made a donut, the guy got punched through three goddamn buildings by fucking Sukuna, and Megumi definitely wasn’t fighting back then to lessen the damage. It’s frankly unreal how quickly Yuuji not only got back up but also covered the distance to where Sukuna and Hana are. He’s also displaying an insane level of strength. I just about lost my mind at this:

Hell, Sukuna seems shocked for a split second, and that really says something. It’s been explicit from the start that Yuuji’s physical abilities are superhuman, and the Kenjaku/Kaori reveal somewhat clarified why that’s the case, but I don’t think we’ve seen this level of raw destructive power from him before. The cursed energy-less fight with Higuruma was impressive though, and I think here, we’ll get to see what Yuuji can bring to the table with cursed energy in the equation.

Speaking of which, after the last chapter, I did see a lot of speculation on whether or not Yuuji would still have cursed energy after Sukuna left him. But the concept of Yuuji losing his cursed energy because Sukuna is out of him never made sense to me. Yuuji’s cursed energy isn’t Sukuna’s; if it were, he’d have a much larger pool to tap into. The first Finger Bearer’s reaction when Yuuji switched with Sukuna seems to indicate the two of them feel very different. And JJK has shown again and again how cursed techniques and cursed energy are tied to souls as much as bodies (Kenjaku being the prime example). So, like Gojou theorized, if Sukuna had stayed inside Yuuji, over time, he likely would have been able to use Sukuna’s cursed energy and technique. But as of now, Yuuji was the vessel for a little less than six months, and he’s only had 15 fingers’ worth of Sukuna for a few weeks. I’d say it’s reasonable that ingesting Sukuna just...opened Yuuji’s third eye, so to speak. Gave him access to his own cursed energy. The movie training Gojou did wouldn’t make sense otherwise either. The whole point there was to teach Yuuji how to harness his cursed energy and increase the output steadily. I don’t know if future plot developments will show Yuuji actually using Sukuna’s cursed techniques; I’d personally prefer if he didn’t, but regardless of how that develops, Yuuji’s cursed energy is his own.

Up till now, Yuuji’s been shown to be on par with Grade 1 sorcerers even without an innate technique, and his skill at cursed energy manipulation has been improving in leaps and bounds. But honestly, it’s his sheer sturdiness that’s blowing my mind, even if that has also been consistently highlighted (in the fights against Choso, Kenjaku, Hakari, and Higuruma especially). Maybe it’s because he’s up against Sukuna now, and Sukuna’s previous fights have done a great job of showing him as capable of curb-stomping anyone other than Gojou. The same guy now seems borderline creeped out by Yuuji—well, what Kenjaku has done to Yuuji more like.

Can’t blame him though. I’d also be pretty WTF if a guy kept walking without even changing his expression through this:

That is gonna live rent free in my head. Sweet fuck.

(If/when that gets animated, I'll expire.)

Back to the point, Megumi fighting back and lowering Sukuna’s output has probably kept Yuuji from being cut into little pieces, but those are still deep, bleeding gashes all over his body, in addition to the singular Cleave Sukuna used earlier. Motherfucker doesn’t even falter. What the fuck.

I love this kid. I am 100% willing to throw down with anyone who calls him a boring protagonist (looking at you, Reddit, but Tumblr too).

On another note, “Let’s see if you can chew up me and my suffering” is one of the rawest lines I’ve heard in a while. Excuse me while I lose my entire goddamn mind.

Hana and the Angel

They don't seem to be dead? Not confirmed dead at least. “Splat” doesn’t seem very reassuring, but it’s been hinted that the Angel can heal Hana, so I’m fairly sure they’ll pop back up. What I am confused about is why Sukuna just bit off an arm instead of, say, her head. Among the sorcerers left in that colony, the Angel is the only one who seems to pose an actual threat to him. Why would he waste the chance to end that threat? One possibility is that Jacob’s Ladder did its job to an extent in “stripping Sukuna away from Megumi,” internally at least, and that it’s Megumi’s influence that lessened the damage. But Sukuna doesn’t seem to notice Megumi fighting back / influencing him until the last attack on Yuuji, so I’m not sure how plausible that is. Other option is that Sukuna thought biting off an arm and shoving them off the building would kill Hana and the Angel with her, but given how durable sorcerers in general are and how the Angel can likely heal, this seems a stupid choice. I guess we’ll find out soon, one way or the other. Could also just be a simple case of plot reasons reigning over consistent characterization.

Megumi

I don’t have much to say here. Zero surprise at Megumi fighting back. It’d have been a very unceremonious end if he’d been crushed by Sukuna’s soul just like that, and the last chapter did highlight Megumi’s potential to suppress the guy. I didn’t expect it to happen this fast, but I do like how pivotal his influence is. Megumi and Yuuji ganging up on Sukuna from the inside and outside, respectively, sounds like a fun time all around. I don’t think it would be enough to beat the guy, but cursed energy output seems a pretty critical factor for sorcerers, and if Megumi can continue to mess with that while Yuuji hits like freight train, I think they can do a good amount of damage.

Yuuji’s Origins

Thought we were done with Yuuji? Lol no.

I have questions about this panel:

That’s the TCB translation.

This is the Viz one.

(I prefer TCB overall, won't lie.)

What in the world does this mean? The phrasing points to a different time period rather than some point in the manga timeline. The comment about Kenjaku being really twisted points to it too. I don't think (more like, I really hope) Yuuji is a reincarnated sorcerer, but something seems real fishy here. And I can't even begin to guess, honestly. But I have faith that whatever Kenjaku cooked up for his favorite son is going to be interesting—and traumatizing for all parties involved, especially Yuuji.

Back to screaming into the void, but at least they're good screams this time.

[gloriousmonsters]

@whittertwitter the key to happy relationships is to find two people roughly as morally bankrupt and mentally ill as you (and, most importantly, as hot as you) and enable/check each other's issues to the extent where you all function remarkably well, considering how all your other relationships went! Agreed on the rough timeline thing, her dying in the 00s sounds right for sure (assuming that the show starts around where the pilot was released, that gives her a bit of time in Hell but still makes her obnoxiously new on the scene compared to other Overlords).

That said, a summation of Vox and Val's daddy issues (cw for abuse, suicide mentioned)

Vox:

I still need to flesh out details/timeline of Vox's childhood, but I know that his dad was distant to the point of seeming to forget about his existence, sarcastic and emotionally cruel--primarily to Vox's mother, but the kid would occasionally come in for some--when he did remember he lived with other people, and was overall just an. intensely negative person, like sucks-all-the-energy-out-of-a-room vibes. (vox's mom was also emotionally neglectful and uncaring, but not ''''abusive-abusive''', if you get my point). He then proceeded to have an 'accident while cleaning a gun' when Vox was a young teenager, which Vox overheard his mother talking about the truth of--that it was suicide--with a friend. probably with a side helping of 'i can't believe he would be so weak/do something that shameful'.

I think his mother probably remarried very quickly, and Vox developed some auxiliary issues around not being able to become Man of the House when he was like, fourteen (although he would have hated it, he and his mom just did not like each other lol). But his relationship with the new guy was more just teeth-gritted tolerance, helping Vox build up his fake-ass geniality--his dad left him with some of the deep shit. Always be on guard, always control what you can. Power is cruel--and it might make people hate you, so hide it behind a smile, but even so it's better to be hated than weak. Being ignored is starvation, being judged and found wanting is a gut wound.

this mainly manifests in the intense desire to be needed and appreciated and affirmed in image whilst having behavioral patterns that mean only people who don't know you will like you

also there's just like, the bigotry and sexism he soaked up, but that's on his surrounding environment as much as his dad

Valentino (his mom is also heavily involved in Issues, so this is partly about her)

extremely physically and verbally abusive father, solely focused on his mother when Val was very young, but turning to include Val the moment he got old enough you could look at him and go 'something vaguely queer about this kid' + he could be judged as not being sufficiently cowed and respectful, which only got worse over time bc Val could not avoid making him angry and so usually gave up on even trying

his mother only managed to get away when Val was around 13, partly spurred to desperation by his father injuring him badly enough she was terrified Val might actually get killed if she stayed any longer (said event caused a concussion that left Val with vision/memory problems and headaches his entire life)

due to things getting that bad and the health issues that were clearly left over from it, his mom was intensely guilty for not being able to protect him/get out sooner, and compensated by investing herself completely in him; babying him physically and emotionally, never setting proper boundaries, taking his side in literally everything, etc etc. this lasted until she finally hit a limit and tried to point out he had anger issues (Kind Of Like Someone We Knew) when he was in his mid-20s

output: mother is cruel? mother is unyielding? i must leave for California i can no longer thrive in this environment

but seriously, anger issues + downplaying of said issues because he's not like his dad, he gets angry for legitimate reasons, and he can be so nice! all he wants is unconditional love, loyalty and commitment that doesn't waver or END like SOME PEOPLE who are apparently just waiting to ABANDON YOU

[rykno-j]

Overheating (1/?) (H/azbin H/otel)

never thought i'd actually write a sickfic for a tv man but here i am i guess.

"(1/?)" is there because i might make a continuation

characters present: v/al, v/ox, v/evlette (mentioned)

small disclaimer: if i wrote v/al in a way that made him soft/likeable just know im not excusing any of his actions okay? okay.

also, theres H/azbin-H/otel-Universe level of cussing in here, just as a warning.

word count: 1k

-----------------------------------

"I can't FUCKING post anything with this shitty signal, so you're going to go down there and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!"

"Woah, woah Velvette, since when was babysitting added on my list?"

"He deals with your shit all the time, so just grow a pair and return the favour."

"Alright, alright, but you owe me one."

-

-

-

"Vox, is everything-" Valentino stepped into the control room, narrowly avoiding a spark that flew through one of the wires as the lights flickered above.

"Bad time Val, I'm not in the mood for your shit right now." A tired voice came from the center of all the buzzing screens.

"Well I hate to be the one who spoils all the fun dear, you know that." Valentino crosses the bridge to reach other platform. "But I really need you to stop fucking with all the lights in my studio, I'm only filming a sex-in-the-dark kink next week and now's a tad bit early."

"I don't c-care about your sex studio" Vox replied without turning around.

Valentino smirked when he heard the static in the other's voice. It was always entertaining to annoy vox whenever he was in this state. The reactions he got were simply.. electric.

"Soo, what are you working on this time?"

"Nobody's buying our fucking product, Val." Vox turns around, a hand propping his head up, looking clearly pissed off. "I don't know.. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Valentino raises an eyebrow. It was rare to see Vox admit defeat such readily. "Want me to help?"

"Uh, fuck no? Did you really think I'd have forgotten the kind of stunt you pulled the last time I let you assist me? The moment that shit got aired it look less than a day for hospitals to be filled with sinners who got that remote stuck up their ass."

"Hmm, how was that my fault in particular?"

"You promoted it as a f-FUCKING dildo!" A spark flew from one of the wires tied to vox as his voice glitched out once again.

"But it did sell, didn't it?"

Vox groans, swiveling his chair back around to face the panel. "If there's nothing else, I have a meeting in five." He gets up, mutely pulling on his bowtie before turning around with a sigh. "Why are you here again?"

"You're upset about something," Valentino explains in a whiny tone. "It's fucking with everyone in the building and has apparently become my job to calm you down." While talking, he circles around Vox, putting a finger under his chin while his other hands wrap around his waist. "Want me to help.. ease the tension?"

While this normally would have worked, Valentino never expected Vox to push him away, a hand rubbing the smudges off his screen.

"Not today. I have an image to uphold. Go fuck with some of your whores or something."

Valentino frowns, but says nothing else.

"Now," Vox says, taking in a breath, "if you'll excuse me." He steps back with a mock half-bow, body turning into electricity as he zaps himself into the nearby circuit.

Valentino stares blankly at the buzzing televisions, sighing as he pulls out a cigarette. As he turns to light it, the wires in front of him flash and sizzle as a bright blue bolt of electricity strikes directly in front of him.

As the smoke clears, Valentino blinks at a very disorientated Vox who struggles to sit up from his position; face-flat against the floor.

"Are you-"

"What the fuck? That has never happened before."

"Clearly." Valentino rolls his eyes, but proceeds to offer his shoulder, which Vox unconsciously leans into. "A rat got to the wires?"

"No, I ran out of energ-" Vox started, then stopped. "I forgot one of my documents and had to come back."

Valentino watched, unamused as Vox nearly fell over if it wasn't for the table holding him up. He side-eyes the other, ears picking up the obvious sounds of Vox's internal fans overworking to keep his head at a normal temperature.

He places a hand on the back of his head, not missing the way Vox flinches. Despite himself, Valentino wanted to do something to help. But 'help' wasn't in his list of strong suits, so he figured he'd do it in a way that was.

"Voxxy~ want to have sex?"

A spark of electricity jumps from Vox's antenna to the other.

He took that as an unspoken yes. "Will you cancel the meeting for that?" Valentino wraps his lower arm around Vox. "I had to dismiss all my actors thanks to the power-outage you caused." He notices how Vox looks away at the mention of the power failure. "So take responsibility."

Vox slouches over. "I'm not-"

"Oh you don't have to do anything," Valentino reaches out to pinch Vox's cheek. "I'll top today. Or do you want to have control?"

"No, it's fine. I'll cancel my meeting." The relief in his voice was unintentionally obvious.

"Can you make it to the bedroom? Or do you want to rawdog it here?"

Vox grumbles, but makes no effort to push Valentino away when the moth opens one of wings to wrap around him.

They walk side by side, Valentino's wing tightening around Vox when they crossed the bridge together, preventing the possibility of his legs going numb and falling into the void.

It was admittedly nice whenever Valentino would act like he genuinely cared. Vox was sure he did, despite how they seemed to be in more of a duo-benefiting sexual relationship most of the time.

On his part, Vox tells himself, he too was taking advantage of Val's offer for sex to skip his meeting.

..That was all there was to it.

-end-

---------------------

i might make a part 2 where i struggle through the process of making vox snz despite his lack of nose.

but besides that, tysm for reading!

Part 1.5 ->