Kill Your Darlings - Part Three

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

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@maggotzdilemma, @cassidywinters

This was so fucking cute 😭 GOT ME IN THE FEELS-

his eyes reminded you of garnets, shining, deep and raw. they were intriguing as you saw depth of the ruby’s that seemed to have been cut by a master jeweler. the most precious gem, crafted from practiced hands and gifted to an enigma of a man.

“you’re staring.” was all that was said as he turned the paper he was reading, never looking up at you.

“beautiful things are to be admired.” you respond back easily, not letting him catching you in the act stop you from continuing. he sighed.

“i am not a beautiful thing to be admired. at most i’m the demented figure you lock in a cabinet and then is forgotten for thousands of years.” he explains, setting down his paper and looking at you. your smile growing as you are now graced with a full, complete look of his eyes.

“you don’t see what i see.” he opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off just the same. “you don’t see how your eyes shine like rubies, that were meticulously handcrafted by someone with the expertise of generations. how your hair falls so softly, just so, framing your face as if da vinci himself set it there. you obviously don’t see, how you gracefully enter and exit a room or even cook and it’s like watching a trained dancer complete a routine.” you cross over to him and straddle his lap, tossing the paper on the table next to the couch.

“you are art, alastor. worth admiring and every minute i’m not, it’s a minute of my hellish life wasted.” you caress his cheeks as his eyes are wide.

“where were you when i was alive?” he asks, a look of sadness crossing his face.

“waiting to admire you.” you respond back easily and press a kiss to his cheek.

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

Kill Your Darlings - Part Two

🎙️【 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒆 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 】🎙️

𝐀/𝐍: Ok, this was a little too short for my tastes, so I'll post pt. 3 soon (which is already done and a lot longer than this since PLOT) but enjoy!

➺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

A suffocating choke of panic tore at your insides at the sound of the demon’s voice, ringing loud and clear through the pristine speakers of the vintage radio, the haunted device still clutched in the shadow's dark, bony talons. 

The apparition's form crackled with static as your back went rigid and the muscles in your thighs tensed against your armchair, prepared to run at the first sign of danger.

Christ, I might start praying again if this shit keeps happening-! 

“Have you gone hard of hearing, my dear? Or are you truly that inhospitable of a hostess?” The demon was practically grinning through the speakers as it teased you, taking you completely off-guard. His voice that had haunted your dreams was so wildly different and... hauntingly charming, in a soul-rattling way.

“W-What the hell do you want...?” 

“Oh, I’m only checking in on my favorite little human~, making sure my visit didn’t rattle you, too much~...”

He chuckled huskily through the speakers, and you would’ve rolled your eyes at the flatter, had you not been terrified to your core. Being the favorited among the poor souls that some psychotic demon specialized in collecting was no prize to be sought after, nor should it be even considered a compliment.  

Unfortunately for you, this was now your reality. Being the favored among the demon’s possibly vast collection of toys. 

“Favorite? What, because you own my soul, or some shit?”  

The demon laughed, his deep, rich voice summoning a kaleidoscope of butterflies into your stomach. “Oho, you catch on quite quickly, my dear!”

He chuckled heartily for a few more seconds, and the tension in your shoulders was suddenly released at his seemingly laid-back posture. 

“Though, I’d say it’d have something to do with that spitfire tongue of yours,” his voice tickled like a warning against your ears, bringing an underlying feeling of unease. 

Tread carefully, now. Don’t do anything to piss him off. 

“Alright then, fair enough," you leaned against your chair, trying to get your nerves to relax as a healthy dose of pumping adrenaline screamed for you to run far, far away from this beast. That associating with him would only spell your demise.

“Tell me your name.” 

“Hm?” The shadow tilted its head at you, like a confused puppy. It was as if the demon was moving through it, or the shadow was moving for him. Like a puppet.

You huffed. “If I have to ‘devote my soul’ to you, or whatever, I should at least have something to call you,” you let your sentence hang in the air, almost anxious for the demon’s answer as he hummed at your suddenly bold attitude.  

How naive. I can smell your fear from here, my Doe. 

And what a choice of words! Devote your soul to him? A deliciously intimate sentiment that he quite liked, much more than he’d care to admit. 

“Well, I suppose that’s a given...” you sat unblinking while the demon seemed to think it over, and pinpointed the trans-Atlantic accent of his that excited the air with a lively vintage flair. One that a deeply buried part of you that should shut the fuck up found quite charming.

“The name’s Alastor, my dear! And yours?” The shadow leapt forward out of its chair and loomed over you, extending its hand for you to take as its eerie smile stretched across its face even further.

Alastor, huh? Not exactly a name you’d hear being tossed around on the streets, these days.  

You hesitantly took the shadow’s hand and told him your name, plus a polite, “It’s... Nice to meet you, I guess. Again.” 

Narrowing your eyes from the memory of the rather unpleasant experience of meeting the new owner of your soul, you cleared your throat.

There were many questions that you had for this... Alastor. First and foremost, how the hell did he acquire your soul? Why did he sound like he was from a completely different time? What did he look like? Was he going to drag you down into Hell with him?

Those were among the more important ones.

“I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind, Alastor...” 

He shivered from the other end of the line, gripping his microphone with fervor. Oh, how he loved to hear his name pour from your pretty lips. 

“Ask away, my dear~,” the shadow leaned against the chair with a purr, gazing down at you with half-lidded eyes as the radio beside it hummed with static. 

Okay, start with something easy. “How did you even get my soul to begin with?” 

“My, my! You don’t start small, do you?” Alastor grinned into the microphone. Ah, yes, the tale of how he stumbled across your gem of a soul and was promised a soul slave that would tend to him for all of eternity. Such an offer was just too intriguing to refuse! 

Who knew the blonde starlet was hiding such a cute little jewel right up her sleeve? 

“It just so happened that a dear friend of mine was in possession of your soul. They simply offered up yours, in return for all their painfully predictable greed and lust satisfied. Quite the clever loophole, if you ask me!” You bristled slightly. Prying answers from the demon might be a bit more difficult than you thought.

How vague. Touché, Alastor. 

You watched as the shadow’s claws drummed upon the arm rest of the sofa, awaiting for your next question.

“And just what are you going to do with me, when I...” Your eyes flickered with a solemn emotion, knowing that your fate of being chained to this demon would surely drag you down into the blazing basement was guaranteed at this point. 

“Ohoho, you have no idea, do you~?” 

The hairs on the back of your neck rose and goose bumps prickled along your arms as the shadow towered over you, making you curl in on yourself as its lanky, wispy arms came to cage you underneath it.

A long, lithe tongue came to swipe across its lower lip, making an embarrassing heat pool just above your crossed legs. 

“It’s what I’m going to do to you that counts, my darling,” the shadow remained there for a moment longer and leaned ever so close so that you were mere centimeters away.

You couldn't move, couldn't close your eyes, and no deep-seated, primal fear could be found, now. Only shameful fantasies invading your headspace, before the shadow pulled away and settled back onto the couch with a wide, crooked smile while purring proudly, clearly very pleased with itself.

“Now, I do believe I deserve to ask a question of my own, my dear.” The apparition smirked down at you while you sank in your seat with flushed cheeks, still shaken from a dose of tonal whiplash.

“Alright...”  

“Just where do we happen to be? Why, I do wonder whether we’re in the States at all!” Alastor laughed boisterously, and a part of you winced at how fake it sounded. No, perhaps hollow was the word. It was like he was wearing a showman’s mask around you, pretentious and forced, and you hoped you wouldn’t have to live with it for long. 

He’d somehow manage to be even more unbearable... 

“We’re in New Orleans."

Pure silence met you, though the shadow had spoken for its master, as it excitedly raced over to the window like an eager child looking through the frost-paned window of a toy store during Christmastime, garnering a nice view of the city its owner so dearly adored. 

The radio buzzed and whirred behind you, as if it would jump up from its spot on the table. “Is that so?” 

You nodded. “Just moved here, a few weeks ago. Have you ever been?” 

“Have I been here?” He laughed incredulously. “Why, I was born and raised here!” Pride oozed from every syllable as the shadow stood tall with its chest puffed out, while you gripped the edge of your seat.

So, he was once a human?

“Really?” Though Alastor could not see you as of right now, he liked to imagine the cute shock flashing in your eyes, the way your brows raised and how you leaned over the chair as it creaked beneath your shifting weight. “What was it like, living here? When did you die?” 

“Hm... Just around the thirties, if I remember correctly!” He reveled in your soft gasp of shock. “Let me tell you, it was quite the time to be alive!” 

The shadow had stepped away from the window, walking around the living room and making dramatic gestures that carried the flair and elegance of a true showman. Along with Alastor’s addictive voice, it was like watching a live show.

And you were drinking up every drop.

“And, oh, the music! Perhaps one of these days, I’ll show you how to properly cut a rug,” the shadow winked down at you, bristling with glee at your flustered laughter. 

You watched as the shadow paced back and forth while Alastor chatted your ears off, finding your ice-cold resolve to avoid this demon at all costs deteriorating by the minute. 

But, still, all good things had to come to an end, as they say.

“Alright, alright, this has been fun, but...” you side-eyed your work laptop that sat innocently upon the kitchen countertop. “I really need to get to work, now.” 

The shadow drooped, its seemingly permanent smile dripping into a frown. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to abandon a lovely afternoon with me for that,” Alastor sneered at the laptop as the shadow pointed towards it accusingly, “silly, pompous, piece-of-shit, whatever the hell it is.” 

You sighed, standing your ground reluctantly. “Trust me, it’s not like I love working, but, hey, you know how it is.”  

Walking over to the laptop, you rolled your eyes as the shadow hissed lowly. “I won’t be long, okay? Now, unless having my soul warrants you keeping me from paying the bills, I’m getting to work.” 

“At least tell me what kind of entertainment it can provide that I can’t,” Alastor spat as the shadow crossed his arms and stood rigid above the laptop with a sharp scowl. 

“I told you, it’s not entertainment, it’s my job,” you replied with exasperation, “I’m an editor for a publishing company. Now, shoo, shoo, I have a manuscript to review,” you boldly waved your hands at the shadow in a ‘go on, git,’ motion. 

The shadow hunched over you with a low growl, its antlers stretching towards the ceiling as a harsh crackle of static pierced your ears.

“Now, is that any way to talk to your Master?”

A spike of fear tried prying you in the other direction towards the door, but a flicker of irritation at his very interesting choice of words won out against your sudden spine-chilling terror. 

“I don’t believe you have that right to call yourself my Master just yet,” your eye twitched as you clenched your fists, instantly reminded of who – no, what you were dealing with. You couldn’t have felt more stupid to be swayed by his charms in that moment. 

“Alright, then, have it your way,” the shadow curled around you with a low, almost seductive purr, tilting your chin upwards with a single, inky talon. “But know that I’ll be cashing in on that statement, when you eventually fall to me.” 

You raised an eyebrow, pupils thinning in a challenge. “Oh? And what makes you think I’m going to Hell with you?” 

“Oh, you will, darling. Trust me, you will.” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Next chapter will be lengthier but right now I'm just building up the ✨pLoT✨ so don't worry :) But the updates will be faster on my A03 account just because making them on Tumblr takes more time.

𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭: Forgot to use the updated taglist 😭 I'm sorry about that

. . .

➺ 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

*snatches pipe and runs away*

can someone hit me with a metal pipe please ty <3

If Lucifer was on Tumblr, do you think he'd be into the whole clown husbandry thing? I can see someone from the hotel letting him in on the joke, and out of enthusiasm he creates a while bunch of clown themed ducks and stuff. This isn't exactly a request, just wanted to bounce ideas off of someone who knows how to write a really wholesome Lucifer.

SUMMONED FROM THE GRAVE BECAUSE OF THIS! THE COGS ARE TURNING HOLD ON-

Okay so I may be overdoing this BUT STAY WITH ME NOW

🎪 First of all, Lucifer would absolutely be into clown husbandry, he'd take quizzes on what kind of clown he should get, and whatever he gets he'd make a little duckie out of it and scroll through the tag on Tumblr for HOURS

🎪 Mans got literally nothing to do, his wife left him for seven years, he's emotionally stunted asf, so clearly, the next step should be clown husbandry to fill the void.

🎪 As you do.

🎪 Me personally, I think Lucifer would want a Jester clown since it has that classic circus look, with a bit of a regal flair and that amuses him greatly (see royal circus aesthetic)

🎪 Lucifer would be SO SCARED to share this interest with anyone else because... it's fucking clown husbandry I mean what would you expect?? 😭

🎪 But if you showed an interest in it/gave it a chance he'd literally rave for fucking HOURS about the topic, and he'd ask you so many questions about which little outfits he should make for his duckies (he definitely has made different little clown hats/wigs for them)

🎪 This man would stress SO. FUCKING. MUCH over how he should treat his little Jester, and you're fighting the urge to actually grip Lucifer by the hair follicles and tell him that it's not real, it's a fucking duck, and that he's driving you mad at this point.

🎪 But you want to let him have fun with his little clown husbandry fixation since this man has BEEN THROUGH IT, so if you can heal his sanity at the cost of yours, then so be it.

🎪 Lucifer would probably take you and the clown duckies on cute little picnics. Just imagine him pulling out a doll-sized circus themed tea set, your two clown ducks, and bite-sized sandwiches, and starts feeding them (FUCKING HELL THIS IS SO CUTE-)

🎪 Your husband drives you insane sometimes, but he just looks so happy whenever you indulge him and his wacky shenanigans that you can't help but watch with him with the fondest smile.

🎪 "And look! I gave him this cute little hat, with little golden stars and bells, and- Honey? Are you even listening?" He pouted softly, still holding the small Jester duckies in either hand while you chuckled down at him.

🎪 "Oh, it's nothing. You're just so cute when you get so passionate about your creations," you place a chaste kiss to Lucifer's cheek, giggling as he continues to pout.

. . .

damn I was doin way too much but CMONNN!!

I know this wasn't a request, but this was fucking glorious and I couldn't pass it up 🤭