YA'LL ARE SO TALENTED EVERYONE CLAP THIS TF UP!!

YA'LL ARE SO TALENTED EVERYONE CLAP THIS TF UP!! 👏👏👏

THE HIGH COUNCIL APPROVES! 💞💞💗

Concept from a few days ago that has been ROTTING my brain. BIKER ANGEL BABYYY!!! Something I didn't know I needed in life-

Hes so cool and like, idk I just need to consume more media where angel is being badass. DGMW!!! I LOVE HIS PRETTY FEM SIDE. But also I think ppl forget he's a chaos maker/ prankster/ turf war participator who will run you down without hesitation if in a fight uvu

It's out!! Thanks for letting me chip in on this project! It turned out so well 🥰

yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario: A Wendigo's Violent Love Part Three

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], violence, OOC, spoilers for the first season of the 2024 show, possessive and obsessive behavior, Alastor is in denial of his feelings, possible angst.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your phone or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another installment of A Wendigo's Violent Love. I am honestly overwhelmed with how much people like this series, and I wouldn't have come this far without the support of this community. I'd also like to give a special thanks to @a-witch-of-writing-desk, @illuminaresblog, and @yourdoorisunlocked with this piece.

Without their insight and assistance in writing this chapter, it probably wouldn't have been posted until early or late April because of my workload.

The scene where Rosie and Alastor reminisce about how they first met was inspired by a comic illustrated by the incredibly talented @theroselens. I won’t spoil what it is exactly, so I will leave the link here.

On another note, the Hobby Horse mentioned here is a direct reference to the weapon in American McGee’s Alice: Madness Returns video game.

So, with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on in tonight's broadcast with Hell's one and only Radio Demon!

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Part One

Part Two

Cannibal Town was a place unique in the Pentagram. 

Its streets were lined with buildings that possess a vintage charm in which Alastor cannot help but treasure dearly; after all, it closely resembles the era he lived through in New Orleans. Everything in the town fitted like a tailored glove to the charming cannibal; from its automobiles, the residents’ everyday attire, and even how they greeted each other, tipping their hat off or curtseying with a smile. No one is fully dressed without one~! Who could ever think that it isn’t a lovely place to live in, of all the possible places to live in the Pentagram? Just follow Rosie’s rules and you would be fine~!

But the thought of his delightful friend reminded him that he had not come here for an afternoon stroll, nor to enjoy a delicious cup of coffee at a cafe and not even to see if there were any new meat shops open for business. He needed to speak to Rosie, discreetly. 

She was a sensible woman whose establishment, a modest two-story building stationed right where the town’s plaza, offered consultation and other goods for all to enjoy; from the latest fashion trends to comestics to glass displays of ringed pinky fingers, there was something for everyone. No one had to venture outside of the Pentagram for anything. Rosie knew exactly what the citizens wanted and how to protect them. That’s why she is the leader, the one to talk to if anyone wants to do any business here. To set up shop without her permission…well, it was free for all. 

He strode down Main Street, smiling and politely greeting a charming group of ladies who called out to him in surprise, currently feasting on some hapless soul who had walked through without following the town’s dress code. For a moment, his mind wandered to the impossible notion of you walking beside him, your gloved hand tucked into his arm with a parasol raised over your head so that you did not get a sunburn. 

Alastor suddenly stopped. He felt the corners of his mouth twitching uncontrollably, his face burning, his blackened heart thunder against his ribs, and worse off…his eyes. He felt them changing to radio dials, followed by the unpleasant sound of a record scratching. And all because he is thinking about you, and what he-he did to you! He kissed you!

This is preposterous! Ridiculous. Why are these feelings simply getting worse and not better? Blast it all! 

He inhaled slowly, deeply, through his nose and out through his mouth, matching it in tandem with his stride. By the time he reached the entrance to Rosie’s Emporium, Alastor felt his quickened pulse steady itself and he was calm again. Pulling the right stained glass open, he went inside and all the way towards the back of the establishment to see his dear friend sitting behind a counter, consulting a distressed young lady. Rosie was calm and cheerful as always, dressed to the nines with a lovely smile as she handed her client a business card. 

Cannibal Town was truly lucky to have a delightful overlord reign over them.

When she looked up, ready to help the next person in the long line, their eyes met. He smiled, waving at her. She immediately perked up, rising from her chair and weaving through the crowd. Well, more like they willingly stepped aside so that their leader could walk to him, but same difference~!

Oh, that was a good joke, ha-ha!

“Oh Alastor, it’s so good to see you!” Rosie exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around in a small circle. “I haven’t heard from you in a while, I was starting to worry that you forgot about me, though I could forgive you if you fill me in on all of the details that’s happened~!” She grinned. “I hear our princess’ hotel is finally finished with those renovations, all ready to accept all the sinners she could dream of! Oh, and Alastor, you truly haven’t let me down this time! The angel flesh we’ve managed to bring back? Well, not only is it absolutely divine in terms of flavor, but people are coming from miles around just to sample some~! ‘Course, with our limited stock, we need to increase the price just a wee bit. Business is booming, and it’s all thanks to you, my friend~!” She blinked, tilting her head to the side. “Hm? Is everything all right, old chap? You’re never this quiet unless those little gears in your mind are turning~!”

Alastor felt the corner of his mouth twitch. No, he told himself fiercely. Keep yourself calm, tell Rosie that there is absolutely nothing wrong and you just thought about stopping by to pass the time, not because you need her help. And even if you do, desperately, you cannot say it here for all of the world to hear!

But the only sound that escaped his mouth was the chirping of radio static. Nothing else. Nothing except the memory of his mouth being burnt from his earlier actions. His eyes widened slightly. Fuck. He was thinking about you again! When will this madness stop?!

He did not know how Rosie knew that he was in fact, not all right, but her jubilant smile softened, and before he realized what was happening, she was pushing him into a corner of the emporium. Two fuschia-colored lounge chairs and a coffee table with a tea tray resting on top of the dark wood, adjacent to the shop’s windows. This was the very same spot where she had dragged Charlie to sit down and ask why Hell’s princess had come to visit her. 

This was…not a good sign. He thought as he sat down in the chair opposite of Rosie’s, watching his old friend gracefully follow his example. Not at all. 

“Now, what’s going on with you? It’s rare for you to be the strong, silent type.” Rosie said, leaning forward. “I heard bits and pieces about what happened between you and that angel in charge of the exterminators, but I’m not gonna pry. You clearly got more on your mind than angels.” 

Rosie has known Alastor for a long time. He’s a showman with all the flair and music at his beck and call, someone who isn’t all talk with no actions behind them. If there is something he wants, he’ll use his charm to get it before anyone realizes what happened. That’s how he rose through the ranks so quickly when he arrived, after all. But seeing him in a state of stunned silence like this…well, it worried her a bit. So she stood up, removing the tea tray from the coffee table with a snap of fingers, and gestured to Alastor to follow her. 

He did.

Normally her clients were more than happy to discuss their problems within hearing range because it was the usual sort of issues everyone dealt with: a bad-tasting spouse, decoration advice, gossip on the latest trends in the Pentagram and rumors about the other overlords, etc. But Alastor….well, he definitely was not going to open up about his problems just like that. He preferred to keep things private, and there was nothing wrong with that in her opinion. So she led them to the parlor, a cozy little room with vintage furniture and fuschia wallpaper with flowers on them. There were enough enchantments in them to drown out explosions from the outside and keep anyone from hearing their conversation. Of course, no one is that silly to be that disrespectful in her store like that, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

The tea tray popped up on the coffee table, landing with a light clink. Everything was still warm and fresh as she poured the steaming liquid in the cups. One for herself, and one for him. Alastor inclined his head towards her as he accepted the tea. Oh my, the poor dear’s hands were shaking. Now she was starting to get very worried about her friend. 

“Alastor, what’s wrong?” She asked, cradling her teacup and saucer with one hand as she stirred in a pinch of sugar. “Nothing will get past the walls, I swear.  You know me, darling. But I can’t help you if you can’t tell me what’s going on -”

“I kissed her.”

She blinked. “Come again?” She asked. 

“I…kissed someone, Rosie. An associate at the princess’ hotel. We made a deal in my radio tower and I kissed her.” Alastor’s fingers tightened around the handle of his teacup. His ears were pressed flat against his head, his face was flushed bright red and his eyes filtered between red irises and radio dials. Oh, shit. Better take this slowly or he’ll combust. Rosie took a sip of her tea. 

“All right, so you kissed an associate who works at the hotel. Do I know her?”

“Yes.”

“Well, who is she?”

“[First Name].”

“Ah, the girl with the metal arms and the giant…hobby horse?” Rosie thought for a moment. “Couple o’ people said that she was wielding that thing like a baton! Smashed some angel’s heads too!” She chuckled, but noticed the deep sigh leaving her friend as he placed the tea down, reclining against his chair with a gloved hand over his face. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. Keep going. Start from the beginning.”

“....She came to the hotel after seeing the commercial everyone made. We were not hiring any staff. Charlie wanted more sinners to come and try to redeem themselves. But [First Name] was stubborn. She and Vagatha did an interview and decided that the best thing they could offer to her was being a groundskeeper. Someone who could keep the place nice and neat, gardening and landscaping. The conditions Charlie laid out to her were that she needed to participate in the activities and make actual progress in changing her ways. In exchange, she’d be given food and board. I tell you, from the moment I saw her, I thought she’d be another form of entertainment~! Imagine, someone who can’t crack an egg, someone who struggles with day to day tasks because she has prosthetics from the Great War! She’s killed people, Rosie, she’s had front row seats to the depravity of humanity and she still believes Charlie’s dream will work! What a joke! What an absolute fool!” He laughed. The sound bounced off of the walls, sending a small chill down Rosie’s spine. 

Alastor wasn’t laughing like when someone tells a dad joke he finds greatly funny or makes an ass out of themselves. He sounded….hollow. Confused. 

“So why is that I feel so terrible for what I had done, Rosie?” He asked. “She had stumbled upon a secret she should have never known and I made a deal with her to keep her quiet. I did what I needed to protect myself. But I can’t get the memory of how she looked at me out of my mind! She was angry, Rosie, and keep in mind that this is a girl who doesn’t show her emotions as easily as others, and she showed me how angry she was towards me! She was disappointed, resentful, and I don’t know what compelled me to kiss her hand but I did because there was some silly notion in the back of my mind, thinking that it would comfort her! How could a kiss do that?! It makes no sense, what I’m feeling makes no sense!” He suddenly straightened himself up in the chair, and he removed his hand from his eyes….just for Rosie to see the frustration and desperation in them. 

“What’s wrong with me, Rosie?” He asked. “Tell me there’s something I can do to forget what I’m feeling right now or I fear I won’t be able to escape this madness!”  

“I don’t think you’d be able to, my friend.” She said. Rosie knew what he was going through because she had been in the same situation too, far too many times and it was because of these experiences that everyone came to her for advice on romance. “Al, my dear silly man…you’re in love with this girl. And it’s pretty clear that this love runs deep. You wouldn’t feel terrible for what you did if you didn’t care about her, right?” 

He looked at her, stunned. “I…beg your pardon, old friend? I….care for her? I love her?” 

Rosie nodded. “You do. And you fucked up your chance at building a proper relationship with her because of this deal you made.”

“That was insurance!”

“And it destroyed her trust in you. You said she was a soldier, right?” When Alastor nodded, she continued. “Well, soldiers need comrades they can trust to watch their backs as much as they need accurate information on enemy forces. You were her comrade, someone she could trust and now…she can’t. That’s why she was angry with you.” She tilted her head. “But it’s up to you if you want to rectify the mistake you made…or let it be the reason why she may never see you in the same way as you see her.” 

“Then teach me, Rosie.” He seethed, leaning forward as he slammed a fist against the table, causing the tea tray to rattle. “Teach me how to forget these feelings because I do not want nor need to love someone to live a fulfilling afterlife. Love makes a person weak! A smile is a more valuable tool than love! It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures what comes your way, you are in control!” 

Rosie glared pointedly at him. “Mister, you are most definitely not in control. If you ask me, stifling these feelings towards [First Name] are just going to make things worse.” She sighed. “Do you remember how we first met? You were a fresh face, the newest overlord around the block after you overthrew all the rest. But the big, bad Radio Demon couldn’t even find the meeting room and asked me for directions with that cute little smile of yours. Gotta tell ya, you were a sweetie then, though Carmilla back then…well, she didn’t know what to think of you.” She smiled, leaning forward and placed her hand on top of Alastor’s. “Asking for help and guidance doesn’t make someone weak, old friend. And it isn’t bad to feel love towards someone, even if you are an ace in the hole.” She winked.

 His smile twitched. “I really wish you would tell me what that phrase means.”

“Where’s the fun in that? It’s entertaining to see you keep guessing every time I say it!” Rosie laughed. “So…what are you going to do?”

“Words are cheap, but actions speak the truth. If you’re serious about serenading this girl, then you need your actions to reach her. Keep me posted, okay? You’ve got this.”  That was what Rosie had told him as she walked him out of the emporium, giving him a brief hug and a warm smile before retreating back inside. Now, here he is, walking back to the hotel and back to you.

He had no idea how he was going to face you after what he had done. He gritted his teeth. As much as he wanted to keep his distance from you and be out of his afterlife for good, Rosie….had been correct. Eliminating what he felt would only make things worse, especially if Husker or that pint-sized fool who calls himself the King of Hell try to steal you away from him before he could do anything. 

Shaking his head, Alastor continued his trek through the city and towards the Pentagram’s outer borders, on the hillside where the fluorescents of the hotel glowed in the distance like a lighthouse in a raging storm at sea.

Blessedly the lobby was devoid of any residents or staff when he had returned, so he had assumed that everyone was at dinner or had gone to bed. It wasn’t too late in the afternoon if he recalled correctly, but time was difficult to keep track of in Hell unless one had a pocket watch or one of Vox’s silly little devices, neither of which he had on his person. In an instant he teleported himself to the hotel’s western wing, ready to freshen a bit before cooking up a meal for himself to enjoy in the privacy of his room when he felt a thrum of power vibrate beneath his feet. 

He glanced down, raising an eyebrow at the darkness on the floor before the shadow grinned, showing off a void of bright crimson for a mouth. Ah, yes. This little traitor. Of all the ones he has in his possession, this is the culprit responsible for the crime of stalking you without his consent. 

“Well, well, where have you been today~?” 

The shadow chuckled darkly, rising up from the floor and floated in the air, twisting its smoky body around him like a snake…no. It’s as if this little shit is performing a little dance of his own. But what for exactly? What is the grand occasion? Has someone died? The shadow shook its head, still grinning and conjured a sphere of green flames in its hands. Inside of it, Alastor could see you and Niffty in the kitchen cooking dinner and then the image disappeared, shifting to a scene where the two of you are putting ingredients together for…apple pies? Alastor gritted his teeth. 

He’s gone not even for a day and Lucifer Morningstar has the audacity to make the calls on desserts. Blasphemy! This is absurd! UNACCEPTABLE!

The shadow’s flames then evaporated into nothingness…and in its hand was a single hair ribbon. Your hair ribbon. Swallowing the lump lodged in his throat, he carefully took it from the shadow’s hand, cradling it in the center of his palm. To have something of yours to take for himself, and covet and yearn in silence until the time was ripe was the only method he had to satiate his darker hunger.

To think something as silly as your scent could tide something as fickle as his temper over was baffling, but it was comforting nonetheless.

Alastor’s thumb stroked the worn-out fabric, admiring its crimson hue beneath the fluorescent light of the hotel hallways. Before he could stop himself, the Radio Demon pressed his lips against it. The scent of cinnamon and ink made his mouth water, hungry for more than just a hair ribbon to pocket as a trophy. But like all good things and in the art of being a clever serial killer, patience is key. It shouldn’t be too difficult to lure his prey into his arms. After all, he is a true gentleman.

Taglist: @rorusena @alastor-simp @imperfectbloodmoon @anielly-2010 @bones4thecats @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @oucx @ang3lofdivinity @tonightwrites @chewbrry @horrorgirlshell @bladeismine @yourdoorisunlocked @no1sillybilly @mentallyunstablenoodle @solandis-does-stuff @facelessfionna @tired-of-life-86 @yandere-dark-cupid @pinkgoldweebgirl @lovely-nightmares @luthefriendlywitch @asianfrustration13 @lunaramune @lanxianschoenheit @zenix108 @solesurvivorjen @kanroji-san @whenitgrowsbright @aconfusedwonderland @candyladycry @ozzersauce @sleepy-hutao @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @swallowtail-lotus @circeyoru

BRING ME GREAT POWER, BUNGUS!

bungus

🚨BABYGIRL ALERT🚨

This man needs to be studied in a fucking museum, and I nominate myself to be the head researcher.

I'll Never Meet Another You - Part 3

📺 【 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 】📺

𝐀/𝐍: *coryxkenshin ass entrance* Hey! W-Wassup? *sweats uncomfortably* It's been a while...

➺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬: Obsession, stalking, Boss/Favored Employee, manipulation, Vox having no sense of boundaries, but you don't notice because you're too busy fangirling lmao ➺ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏,𝟖𝟔𝟖

. . . 

. . . 

The commotion of rushing employees, frantic in their pace to their respective workplaces and office buildings nearly dizzied you on your way to the tallest building in the Entertainment District. Neon luxury bathed every street of the promiscuous sector, composed of streets filled with depraved Sinners, and had your wandering eyes widened with awed stars. 

You had attempted to put more confidence into your steps as you walked around the district, trusting your phone to lead you to the Vee’s main headquarters, despite being slightly shaken by your surroundings.  

But you were determined to keep up the facade of not being too shifty, shy, or ready to bolt. It wasn’t like you even could bolt, anyway. You’d missed your morning shift, and God only knows what would happen to you if you returned to that diner... 

The soft whirring of an overheated camera barely caught your attention, as you were so wrapped in your own little world to notice how the lens adjusted to look directly at you, glaring down at you as you walked. 

The cameras set above the entire city, unbeknownst to cute, quaint little you, had zeroed in on your form since your arrival, wearing a large overcoat – slightly worn, but suitable – over the delicious little outfit that had one demon in particular frothing at the mouth. 

He couldn’t wait to pick out his own little outfits for you to wear, all tailored to match him and his tastes. Just imagining his cute, future wife clad in the dresses that housewives would wear in his time was enough to send the demon into complete overdrive.

Vox was already walking around the halls in a calm frenzy as soon as you slammed the door to your apartment, with your filled-out application in hand. His nerves wouldn't allow him to sit still, not for a moment, not while his dearest was out there, on the streets for any to grab! 

He had even watched with growing tension as you debated over whether you should go to the interview, to which he nearly activated his hypnotism to just push you out the door and into his arms already-! 

Vox cleared his throat. No need to lose his patience, now. You were here, in his domain. No other unworthy scum of a Sinner could snatch you up, now. 

Besides, you put in so much effort to impress your future husband boss, shouldn’t he do the same for you? 

. . . 

“Are you deaf, or just that fucking ᵾꞩēłēꞩꞩ?” Vox barked to the nearest intern, watching them with pure contempt as they shuddered under his icy glare. 

“I-I’m sorry, Sir! I’ll put in an a-appointment with her right away!” 

“Good. Clear my schedule of other meetings for now, and have my office prepared for my appointment.”  

Shock dawned on the intern’s face, but before another moment passed, he stuttered pitifully, “Uhm, could I get her name, S-Sir?” 

Antenna sparking impatiently, Vox allowed your name tumble softly from his lips. No trace of malice from his exhausted frustration poisoning his words.

The tension in his padded shoulders loosened just ever so slightly, before he snapped again at the young trainee, who was blinking dumbly up at him with his mouth agape. 

He’d never seen his boss so calm... It set the hairs on his neck to stand on-end. 

“You got that?” 

The intern jumped, glasses nearly falling off his nose as he frantically jotted down your name. “Got i-it!”

With that, he quickly scampered away to let his other staff members aware of the boss’s new assistant, a shiny toy that innocently wandered the streets of Hell without a care in the world. He prayed for whatever poor soul managed to catch his employer's ever-watching eyes.

Vox rolled his eyes with a disgusted groan before starting again down the hallway. Fluorescent lights bloomed ahead of him, setting a pale, neon path of electric teal and offices stretching literal miles until the nearest elevator.

He probably shouldn’t have left such an important task to some incompetent underling, but there was too much on his plate to deal with it, for now. He had a date meeting with a lovely little doll to prepare for.

For every section of the Vee’s tower, there was a flair completely unique to each member, whether that be Velvet’s more glamourous, chic wardrobe of bone-thin, overworked models, Valentino’s debauched studio simmering with lust around every corner, or the advanced, technologically-inclined office floors where Vox normally dwelled. 

Floors that you would rule over, seated comfortably next to him.

Pointed dress shoes, tipped with cyan flared blue sparks against the polished marble floors like the very electricity the Overlord emitted. Had anyone walked past Vox in that moment, the hairs on the back of their necks and arms would have risen in tandem with the crackling energy that tainted the frigid air. 

There was very little in Vox’s afterlife that brought him comfort, but he couldn’t help but find solace in the thought of you rushing down the streets of the Entertainment District, simply to make it on time to your appointment with him.  

Honestly, it was only a matter of time before he had you in his clutches. Like a naive little lamb to the slaughter, you trusted him with your very soul. 

And, no doubt, that would very soon belong to him, too.  

Vox nearly blue-screened at the thought of a chain around your neck, emblazoned with his name, electric-blue and sparking against your tender skin. He could feel the light buzzing around his cheeks that flared up in a soft lavender-pink against his interface.

Just then, the equivalent of hairs rising on the back of Vox's neck came in a series of light sparks tickling the outlets on the back of his head.

“Voxxy~!” 

Ӻᵾȼҟīꞥꞡ- 

Immediately fixing his grimace, Vox swerved around on his heel with the most tooth-grinding smile he could muster, though a twitch of his left eye was a dead giveaway.

Valentino didn't so much as blink at the Overlord's obvious irritation, not at all taking the hint that maybe this wasn't the best time to pester him with whatever the fuck Val was failing to manage now-

"I've been looking for you everywhere, cariño!" The oversized insect said with too wide a smile, too forced a laugh, and Vox knew he was in for an interrogation - either that, or Val was, once again, trying to rope him into bed.

"You've been locked up in that apartment of yours for so long, amour, why don't we relax for a bit~?"

Vox didn't allow Valentino to usher him a single step away from the large window he'd been overlooking the district, wondering which shadow that scurried the streets belonged to you.

And what a sudden appearance, too. If his mind weren't swarming with thoughts of where you could be at the moment, Vox would've been questioning the sudden - and painfully obvious - distraction Valentino was trying to pose.

"I don't have time for that, right now," Vox brushed off his touch with a disgusted glower. "I have a meeting in ten, so it's going to have to wait, Val." He turned to walk away, albeit with his feathers slightly ruffled, but it was nothing that a couple moments spent with you couldn't-

"A meeting?" The moth demon blinked, his eyes adjusting to the blaring lights ahead. Vox was surprised that Valentino had even made an effort to visit him on his floor, since the Overlord was clearly blind out of his wits.

"Hm... Could this have something to do with whatever's been distracting you from your job, recently? Or..." Valentino scowled down at Vox with a narrowed, scrutinizing gaze taking in the sudden tensity in his padded shoulders.

His face curled into a triumphant sneer when Vox stopped dead in his tracks. If there was anything Valentino hated, it was being ignored.

"Or whoever?" Crimson tendrils of smoke blew from the moth's mouth, tainted by his ire. "They're probably a good fuck, if they managed to match up to your standards," with another smokey drag, Val rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Since you won't take any of my whores."

"Ɇӿȼᵾꞩē ᵯē?"

White-hot electrical currents climbed up Vox's throat, spreading through his fingertips and zapping at the antenna of his hat. He glared up at Valentino through glitching red eye sockets, daring him to overstep further.

The moth hid a heated shiver underneath Vox's murderous gaze, his glitching eyes sharpened, poisonous blades slitting into his skin at the mention of you.

Oh, you... You were different, weren't you? Not just some cumdump for Vox to use and abuse all in one night, nothing like his dolls that would return to him, bruised and in hysterics because of what Vox did to them.

No. You were special to him. The very thought made Valentino's blood seethe.

"You are certainly one to talk about being distracted."

The porn director took no offense to Vox's insinuation, already as comfortable as he could be with the knowledge that it was the television demon who took reign of the strings.

With overflowing confidence, He simply crossed his arms with a venomous smirk, jutting his hip out beneath one of his lower arms.

Val's way of blowing off steam would one day surely get him brutally murdered. By his own fellow Overlord, no less.

"Aw, did I touch a nerve there, Voxxy~?"

And Vox was two seconds away from ripping the insect apart.

"Don't ӻᵾȼҟīꞥꞡ test me right now-"

"Sir?"

A small, agitating buzz coming from the installed intercom on Vox's face further tipped the overflowing bucket of his impatience. Yet another idiotic distraction from you, another obstruction from his darling's side.

With a final, stinging glower shot towards Valentino, and a non-committal grunt, his claw gave a single tap to the now prominent phone icon on the side of his face.

"Go manage one of your sluts, Val. Maybe actually do your fucking job, for a change."

Vox spared no glance to the moth, but a spiteful scoff and the clicking of back-breaking heels stomping away from him gave enough closure.

"Ӻᵾȼҟīꞥꞡ ⱳħⱥⱦ?" The noxious growl of Vox practically grinding his teeth into the intercom sent jolts of spiking electricity down the employee's spine.

Fuck, this must've really not been a good time to bother him.

The employee huffed as sweat formed at his brow. He mustered up the courage to speak again after feeling as if his tongue would be cut out, should he utter a syllable.

Maybe give Vox the coffee with the sweeter creamer, next time.

"Well, uhm... The lady you wanted me to set up an appointment for... S-She's already here, sir."

Every ounce of bottled-up fury dissipated. Like a sudden, Godsent sunlight bursting through thunderous clouds, the storm in Vox's mind suddenly evaporated into thin air.

Vox tried to grasp his once boiling-hot, downright murderous fury, but the mention of you had stolen every bit of attention he had to spare. Only one emotion - or a muddle of them, really - managed to seep through his voice, into a single syllable.

Shock, surprise, disbelief, jittering excitement, and then...

"What?"

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: So, I know its been *checks calendar* (fucking hell- TWO MONTHS??) a while since I've updated this fic, but I swear there is a perfectly reasonable, understandable explanation.

The Vox brainrot has failed me, and I've been indoctrinated into the Welcome Home fandom (do expect some fics about WH btw) ANYWAYS! enough rambling, thank you so much for reading, and I'll see you next time :)

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid.

@slytherin4ever, @i-love-jafar, @itzlochnessie, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, @susvale, @valentique, @twismare, @robin-the-enby, @v3n7s, @forbidden-sunlight, @leathesimp, @matemor, @groovybear99, @frompeach, @moonmark98, @nyxnightshade7656, @sushigogo, @crowleysthings, @zombiesnips-blog, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @impulsivethoughtsat2am, @ashdaidiot, @crybabycat1, @repostingmyfavs, @crazii-saber-wolf, @reikamasama, @dudesorriso, @speckle-meow-meow, @alastor-simp.

@maggotzdilemma, @cassidywinters, @justgiulia, @lucifers-silhouette, @going2hell4hazbin, @martinys-world

Kill Your Darlings - Part Three

𝐀/𝐍: I think I'll start posting the rest of this series on A03, while posting one-shots and requests on Tumblr. It's been cool posting my series here, but I prefer posting to A03 when it comes to longer fics.

Nonetheless, please enjoy!

➺ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 𝟑,𝟑𝟓𝟎

The incessant clicking of a mousepad and the mad ticking of fingers flying over a keyboard filled the barren kitchen, as he occasional moan of the wind rocking the apartment complex back and forth and the cold, hard blare of the silver screen on your laptop aggravated the pain of your headache.  

The tips of your toes just barely brushed against the frigid kitchen tile as you leaned obsessively over your computer, clicking away on the mousepad like it was your lifeline.  

At that point, it very well could’ve been, since the precious piece of technology held all of your answers, answers that Alastor wouldn’t offer you – not without a price. 

And you had nothing left to barter, since he already owned your soul – a thought that loomed over you when the demon wasn’t around to distract you from that chilling reality. Alastor owned you. He could’ve pushed you around like a dog strapped to a chain, and yet he didn’t. Most likely because he couldn’t truly control you, since you weren’t lost to his wrathful clutches just yet. 

So, using your timed freedom, you did some digging around on the web in a last-ditch attempt to find anything about Alastor himself, and his history. Know thy enemy, as the saying goes. 

But whether he was truly your enemy, would be tested with time. 

And right now, the blasted internet was proving to be a worthy opponent, since you were practically tearing your hair out by the bunches since you barely discovered anything about him. Still, you were determined to decode his mystery. Humans were terrifyingly efficient at finding each other, and dead ones would be no more difficult, even if you found squat about Alastor. 

Mark my words. I’ll find out who you are, Alastor.  

“Where there is a will,” you clicked away from the barren search results, fully prepared to surf around the dark web if you had to, “There is a fucking way.”  

Even though you hadn’t a clue to his origins or background, you were convinced that Alastor had to have been some kind of serial killer while he was alive, and you’d bet your soul on it.  

His personality fit the stereotype – a well-based one, at that – he was haunting your fucking radio – granted, a very swanky radio – and on top of that, Alastor was a literal demon . Maybe. You weren’t all that certain about what exactly he was, but there was too much evidence supporting the theory to consider him being anything but. 

Whatever the case, you were convinced. Alastor was, without a doubt, a bona fide serial murderer . Perhaps that ominous information should’ve put you on edge, but you were twisted too deep in Alastor’s captivating mystery to care. Fascination had overcome your fear of the unknown, and you were ready to dive in, and lose yourself in his mysterious past. 

But that was proving to be damn near impossible, when you could barely find anything about the bastard. He was a footnote in history, at best. No last name, no family members related to him, nothing.  

Still, you were determined. 

Leaning forward, you chewed on your thumb nail whilst scrolling through yet another forum that went into thorough detail about demon encounters and sacrificial rituals. Or, at least, a human’s rendition of them.  

You had sifted through a fair share of information on demons as well but turned up with virtually nothing, save for many helpful bold-lettered warnings that demanded to be heeded: Do not. Fuck. With demons.  

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered to yourself, clicking away from the site before groaning and massaging your aching temples. 

By all standards, it had been an agonizingly unproductive session of information-scouring. However, you had made some headway with a client of yours and finished most of your task list. Everything minor was shoved to the side in desperation of somehow piecing together Alastor’s intentions, stressing over his poorly veiled threats, and trying to figure out just whoever the hell he was in life. 

Just as you were about to yield to the great barriers of the internet, with nothing but an increased hopelessness and frustration at your lack of understanding of your new “Master” – as you were loath to call him – a soft wisp of a shadow flitting about the kitchen caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. 

“Hello, there,” you sighed without looking up at the shadow, already annoyed with its presence as it leaned over the counter with a smug grin.  

One glance at the computer and your hopelessness told it a thousand words regarding your predicament. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can gloat later. I got plenty done, anyhow.” You raised an eyebrow towards it. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about him, would you?” 

The shadow stared down at you, unimpressed as it crossed its arms, crackling curtly in response. Absolutely not.   

“Aw, come on, not even for a snack? I could make you something.” You nodded towards the fridge, grinning when it perked up and followed your glance. “Just throw me a bone here. Give me a hint, anything, and maybe I’ll give you a nice meal. How does that sound? C’mon, I’m sure you’re hungry.” 

Its emerald green sockets glimmered mischievously, and it bristled with a soft purr as it leaned down on the counter, practically drooling at the thought of a meal.  

A low rumble shook the floors with an unmistakable growl of hunger, and it whined softly. 

You pouted sympathetically. Seems like Alastor hasn’t fed it, recently.  

“Oh, poor baby,” it nuzzled into your soothing touch as you scratched behind one ear. “I’m sure he doesn’t feed you as much as he should,” the shadow’s stomach rumbled in response. 

“Resorting to bribery, are we?”  

You rolled your eyes as the radio flickered on, and you raised an eyebrow at it as it sat innocently upon the coffee table. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You cooed down at the eager shadow as you completely ignored Alastor and his offended scoff.  

“Ignoring someone when they’re talking to you is quite rude, my dear-!”  

“I have some chicken that I can prepare for you. You can choose the spices, the temperature, whatever you want,” you were beaming cheekily when the shadow perked up, one fuzzy ear twitching towards you. 

“Temptress,” Alastor snapped. 

You at least had the decency to feel partly ashamed, though you just grinned triumphantly. You weren’t proud of having to barter for information, but whatever got you the scoop on Alastor was well worth it. 

“That’s right, just imagine those carefully baked, golden-brown edges, and oh, think of the spices!” Alastor rolled his eyes at your dramatic tone, choosing to peek through the shadow’s eyes at you. Pretty little temptress. You’d somehow tamed his shadow, and he was certain it wasn’t just the chicken that it was after.

To Alastor’s chagrin, the devilish phantom had all but leapt over the counter towards you, curling around you with a loud purr as it nuzzled into your neck.  

You chuckled at its antics and pushed yourself up from your seat, stretching your cramped back and legs and wincing from the lightning strikes of pain that shot up your joints from the hours of sitting in a hunched position. 

“Alright, let’s get you some food,” you scratched beneath its chin, and it hummed contentedly in response, its fluffy tail enthusiastically beating the air. 

“Traitor.”  

You cast a triumphant smirk at the slight pout in Alastor’s from the other side of the line. “Oh, I’m just doing some charity work. Clearly, you’ve been starving the poor thing,” you rubbed the shadow’s cheek, grinning smugly as it nuzzled into your neck with a soft coo. 

“Charity work!? You’ve seduced it with your wiles!” Alastor spat indignantly. 

You rolled your eyes while pulling out a few ingredients. “It’s food, Alastor. And you know what they say,” the shadow suddenly tittered and flew away from your side to rummage through the spice cabinet, “The way to a man’s heart, is through his stomach.” 

“It has no heart, and it is no man,” his tone darkened slightly, but you either took no notice or simply didn’t care as you took out the raw chicken from the fridge. 

“But it’s attached to one,” you grinned cheekily as the shadow returned with several spices in its arms while smiling widely with a wagging tail, while Alastor scoffed with a roll of his eyes. 

You clapped your hands. “Alright, let’s get to work.” 

. . .  

Alastor had grown quiet for most of the process, leaving you and the shadow in pure, content silence as you got to work around the kitchen. The shadow was entirely unbothered at his master’s sudden radio silence, instead choosing to make itself comfortable looming around your form while watching you season and prepare its supper. 

As you waited for the chicken to be cooked, you turned to the shadow who had been staring at you with its head resting upon its inky palm while watching you work with salivating, emerald eyes, simmering with the fire of raw gemstones.

“Now, I believe I was promised some information in return?”  

Static buzzed as it put a finger to its chin, humming softly before speeding off into the apartment, and it soon returned with a pen and paper and scribbled madly across the parchment. 

Alastor Hartifelt.  

As soon as the name tumbled from your lips, a loud record-scratching screech sounded from the living room.  

Ӻᵾȼҟ.  

But you didn’t even flinch at the ear-splitting noise as you grinned and nodded in approval, your determination flickering bright yet again. “Finally, we’re getting somewhere.” You barely got a moment to process your excitement at a new lead, a possible doorway to the holy grail of information about the strange, ominous demon haunting your actual radio-!  

Ding!  

The shadow’s ears twitched in the direction of the noise, and it was suddenly nipping at your nipping at your heels and pushing you insistently towards the oven. You were certain that it was drooling all over your floor, but you stifled your jittering excitement anyway. There were promises to be fulfilled, after all.

“Alright, alright!” Batting the phantom away, you grabbed the oven mitts with a sigh. 

“Not so easy now, is it?”  

“Oh, nobody asked you!” 

You soon plated the chicken and served it over to the phantom, who made quick work of the poor bird in mere seconds. At least it was already dead, you shuddered, trying to push the image of being ferociously torn apart by its razor-sharp canines out of your mind. 

It licked its chops with a satisfied rumble once it finished with not a crumb left on the plate you offered, and you were still reeling from the bizarre few minutes you spent watching it enjoy your cooking. 

I wouldn’t be surprised if it licked the plate. Seriously, how long has it been since the poor thing’s eaten?  

The shadow immediately curled around you as you sat down in front of the counter, hissing lowly at the laptop before burying its face in your neck with a soft growl. You didn’t want to be rude and shove it away, and besides, the shadow’s aura was surprisingly warm, which shielded you from the cold, drafty air of the apartment. 

And so, you allowed it to remain cooing and teething around your neck – as on-edge as it made you – while you typed Alastor’s full name into the search bar. 

As soon as you hit enter, the internet decided to be helpful again, and provided you with a golden website, containing any and all answers to your ever gluttonous curiosity for your new demonic companion, and his shadowy servant.

You smirked and ruffled one of the shadow’s ears. “Nice sleuthing, Alastor Jr.” The shadow grinned into your neck and pulled you even closer, while Alastor chuckled softly at the nickname, choosing to survey the laptop through the eyes of his ghostly scout. 

Not the first choice I’d make, since simply going down to the station would’ve sufficed.  Alastor sniffed and rapped his gleaming nails against his desk, eyeing the device with distaste. Then again, it doesn’t seem like those incompetent oafs would want an account of something so gruesome happening just beneath their noses staining their records!  

You relaxed into your seat, mentally preparing for the deep dive into Alastor’s shady past that you were about to take. It seemed that no information was buried enough to be obscured, so long as you were awfully specific with your search.  

But thank the merciful deities above that some history buff – who seemed quite outraged at the lack of discussion and information around their favorite serial killer – had taken it upon themselves to collect and piece together a consistent timeline of events, all centered around one Alastor Hartifelt. 

Got’chya.

You scrolled a little bit through the Godsent gold mine of information, baffled at just how much there was for you to access. Apparently, Alastor Hartifelt had been a charismatic personality on the radio, a beloved host and rising star in New Orleans. Around the time that he’d made his debut as a radio host, however, was when the murderers started. 

The presence of the Bayou Butcher rocked the city harder than any other scandal at the time, and you couldn’t blame the people for being so paranoid, after reading the brief description of his kills, and his M.O. 

You whistled. “Damn. You have quite the track record, Alastor.” 

“I’m well aware, my dear!”  

You raised an eyebrow at the sound of ruffling paper in the background, accompanied by the clicking of frantic typing. But it didn’t sound anything like the short tapping of a keyboard, and the telltale ring heightened your suspicions. He cannot be serious...  

“Alastor, do you have a goddamn typewriter?”  

“It’s essential, darling! Every good radio host needs a captivating script,” you laughed and shook your head. He’s committed to the bit, I’ll give him that. 

As you explored the very depths of the case surrounding the Bayou Butcher, you began to grow quite curious and weary of just how Alastor disposed of his victims. Unfortunately, there was a certain tab that fed into that very curiosity. At least they provided a warning, before you could view what came next. This one was on yourself. 

“Fucking Christ!” You nearly jumped out of your seat as you clasped your mouth in horror, eyes widened with terror at the gory, uncensored photograph of one of Alastor’s maimed victims.  

The poor soul’s belly had been slit open with a still-inserted butcher knife, with his rotting insides displayed for all to see and staining the floor with bile and undigested food. Squirming maggots and fat cockroaches feasted upon the corpse, which had been festering with mold and disease in Alastor’s basement for quite some time before the authorities found it. 

“Language, my dear~,” said demonic psychopath sang from the radio, and you were just about ready to chuck that thing out of your window as your eye twitched. 

“Prick...” you muttered, quickly scrolling away from the photograph. 

“I heard that.”  

“Greatest apologies, my liege,” you rolled your eyes. Alastor let out an amused huff but said nothing as he went right back to typing out his script. 

Bold headlines like ‘The Bayou Butcher Strikes Again!’ or ‘Victims Brutalized and Missing, Families Torn Apart’ were thrown around wherever you scrolled, and a mere glance at the cohesive timeline provided in one of the documents gave you a good window for how long Alastor had been active. 

“Huh. Seven years...” Alastor perked up at the sudden weariness lacing your meek voice. He had been tuning out for most of your little binging spree, instead electing to tuck into a book in the later evening, since sleep was seldom required for him. Nonetheless, he reluctantly took a peek through his shadow’s eyes to see what you were looking at on that blasted lap-top doohickey of yours, and dread filled his heart. 

Seems that some folks were quite fixated upon my choice of diet...  

Alastor bristled at the other end of the line, practically scenting the small flicker of terror. Your rising fear of him was building up again, and that just wouldn’t do.

Sure, Alastor was cruel, a monster, even, and he knew it. His deeds would instill fear in the hearts of even the most hardened soldiers, and his gluttony, his bloodlust knew no bounds. But not to you, not to the poor, lost little lamb that he’d so graciously taken into his care, that practically domesticated his shadow, who bantered with him. And just when he’d finally broken down a small part of your walls- 

“...So, is it true?” 

Alastor raised an eyebrow, halting from his tireless typing for a moment. “Is what true, my dear?”  

“That you...” you held back from gagging, and a slick smile crept onto his gray lips, “That you ate some of your victims?” 

Sighing, he leaned back in his cushioned chair and gripped the small microphone that he used for broadcasting. The idea of lying to you, treating you like everyone else prickled at his heart with resentment. There was no need to push you away. You were different. It would be different, this time. 

It had to be.

With a defeated sigh, Alastor nodded, though you couldn't see him. At least you’d know, now. At least there wouldn’t be any secrets between you two. 

“Yes,” was the demon, the cannibal’s resounding answer, and the room grew a few degrees colder with tension.  

You’d known that Alastor was... shady, at best. But now, it was out. It was certain. Alastor was a dangerous man, during life and death, but you knew that from the jump.

But at least he told you the truth, and maybe you could count on that, which was a strangely comforting thought. 

You sighed with relief. “As long as you don’t force me to try it.” Alastor chuckled along with you, grinning wider when you clicked away from the computer and sat back with a tired sigh.

“I think that’s enough snooping for tonight. ‘Night, Al’,” you yawned and softly rolled the shoulder that the phantom had been leaning on, and it retracted reluctantly with a soft whine. 

“Wait-!”  

You paused. Turning to the radio, you cocked an eyebrow at the desperation in Alastor’s voice, and he seemed to notice it too, since an awkward silence followed. Heat crept up the radio host’s neck, prompting him to itch and pull at his collar with a low snarl. 

Alastor fucking loathed this feeling. 

“Did you... Did you see anything else? Anything that caught your eye, perhaps?”  

It was the first time that Alastor had spoken to you with anything but suave confidence. “No, why? Is there something even worse than cannibalism, that I should know about?” Crossing your arms, you leaned against the threshold of the living room. 

Alastor softly cleared his throat. “No, nothing like that, my dear. I was simply curious as to how much information was disclosed...” he straightened in his seat, refusing to recognize his anxiousness. “Any mentions of family, spouses, perhaps...?”  

You shook your head with a negatory hum. “Nope, it was all just about you. Why’s that? Did you have a wife? Or a husband?” 

“Just wondering, darling,” he replied hastily, choosing to side-step that question as relief flooded him.

You eyed the radio sympathetically. “Sorry, if that’s... a bit too personal for you. I get it, if you don’t want to talk about it.” Shrugging, you started down the hallway with a wave and a yawn. “Goodnight, Alastor.” 

Alastor watched you, yearning, remorseful eyes tracing the familiar, soft curves of your form as you disappeared down the hallway.

And he answered your final words of the night, a solemn whisper against the cold, bleak air as memories of decades passed invading his memory, threatening overflowing emotions to pool to the surface. 

If you only you could hear the choke in his voice, the restrained tears, the remorse, the regret.  

“Goodnight, my darling.”  

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Thank you for reading <3 It'll be a while before I post here again, since I'll be focusing on my series on A03. If you'd like to read the rest of the fic, I'll put my account below for ya'll

𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 - A03

. . .

➺ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid

@slytherin4ever, @i-love-jafar, @itzlochnessie, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, @susvale, @valentique, @twismare, @robin-the-enby, @v3n7s, @forbidden-sunlight, @leathesimp, @matemor, @groovybear99, @frompeach, @moonmark98, @nyxnightshade7656, @sushigogo, @crowleysthings, @zombiesnips-blog, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @impulsivethoughtsat2am, @ashdaidiot, @crybabycat1, @repostingmyfavs, @crazii-saber-wolf, @reikamasama, @dudesorriso, @speckle-meow-meow, @alastor-simp

@maggotzdilemma, @cassidywinters