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hotheadedhero · 2 days

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De-Stress Methods

When you're having a bad day, the last thing your turtle boyfriend wants is for you to suffer. Fortunately for you, he has his own special way of helping you out.

2003 Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

Meditation is usually his way of going about things but he knows you struggle to clear your head so easily like him. Instead, he beckons you to a rooftop, being sure to cover your eyes as he leads you up an apartment. It's a risky move on his part, both for potentially being seen and you blindly upscaling a ladder but he knows it'll be worth it. Once you're up, he waits just a moment longer.

Slightly disgruntled by the secrecy, you sigh, "Leo, if this is some kind of training exercise, I'm not sure I'm in the mood."

He just smiles as he gently coerces your hand away from your face. It takes a moment to blink away the blur but, when you do, you are blessed with a wondrous array of oranges and purples amidst the wide sky that hangs above you. The sight is breathtaking and the troubles of your day wash off you almost immediately. Leo sits you down with him atop the roof and together you gaze in content silence. Knowing him, this is probably some corny interpretation of 'tomorrow is a new day' but you feel better nonetheless.

Raphael

This man holds nothing back when he's in a bad mood. Give him a punching bag and he'll go to town on it. You, however, couldn't hurt a fly. He loves that about you but even the softest souls need an outlet. Luckily, Raph is in touch with his softer side, especially when it comes to you. That's why he attempts to show you how to knit - get you focused on a task that requires just enough attention to distract you.

"I don't think I've done it right," you admit bashfully as you showcase your poor knitting skills.

Your sullen glance to the floor almost has him giving up on this idea but he doesn't want you to be discouraged. Instead, he gently pinches your chin, points your head up towards him, and kisses your forehead, encouraging you to try again. The great thing about knitting is that you can easily pull the yarn away from your mistake and redo it. It takes some practice but the beaming grin of accomplishment on your face fills him with such pride.

Donatello

When it comes to methods of relaxation, there's nothing quite like tinkering on a new project to get Donnie to unwind. However, that isn't exactly your idea of a soothing pastime. Even just watching how he operates on machinery gets your head into a spin, akin to second-hand stress were he to feel any such stain himself. He places his tools down on the work bench and gets comfortable on the couch with a book, ushering you to join him. You lay your head in his lap and he begins to read, stroking a free hand over your head. After a few paragraphs, he feels you shift and stops reading to look down at you when he catches your stare.

"Please, don't stop," you object with a smile. "I like your voice."

With a tender expression of his own, he continues to read aloud about the geometry of spacetime. He knows it doesn't matter what he reads to you because that isn't the point. The way he sees it, the more obscure the book, the more likely you are to fall asleep and take the well-deserved nap he knows you need.

Michelangelo

Mikey may be a high-energy, goofball who, at face value, doesn't take much seriously but that doesn't mean he's an idiot. Where he seemingly lacks logical smarts, he makes up for in emotional intelligence. As soon as you walk into the lair, he can tell something's wrong. You don't want to talk about it and exerting yourself with any kind of activity sounds like too much energy. That means skateboarding and video games are out of the question then. Not a problem! There's plenty you can do that requires little to no effort. He quickly makes a batch of popcorn and sits you between his legs in front of the TV. As the back of your head rests on his chest, he feeds you so you don't have to worry about lifting a finger.

Through a mouthful, you laugh, "It's okay, Mikey. I can feed myself."

He gently shushes you and pushes another piece of popcorn into your lips. That's all he needed to hear. The moment he gets a laugh out of you is the moment he knows you're feeling better.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #2003 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt x reader #x reader #leonardo #raphael #donatello #michelangelo #headcanon #leo #raph #donnie #mikey #tmnt headcanons #headcannons #fluff

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whumpgifathon · 2 days

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Hello! And welcome to my brand new whump gifmaking challenge! I'm your host @aceofwhump and I'm excited to bring a whump challenge specifically created with gifmakers and visual artists in mind.

The challenge begins August 1, 2024!

Rules:

All gifs posted must be made by you. Do not just post gifs using the gif keyboard and claim them as yours and do not repost other people’s gifs. No AI-generated content please.

Various mediums are welcome! So long as the visual art aspect is the focus you can make whatever you want. Yes this is primarily a gifmaking challenge so everything is geared towards that but any visual art is welcome. If you draw, make moodboards, edits, videos, etc you’re welcome to participate!

You can use the prompts however you like. There is no wrong way to use a prompt. Feel free to interpret them however you wish. If you think it counts as whump? It's whump! Make it! Angst, comfort, emotional whump, small things, big things, it all counts so no need to over think it.

Tag all potential triggers (things like emeto, gore, nsfw, blood, eye whump, rape/noncon, etc.) When in doubt, tag it.

Tags to use when posting so I can find your ppst: #whumpedit, #whumpgifathon, #whump gifs

Please try to include the show/movie title, character names, and episode number (if applicable) somewhere either in your tags or in the post caption. This way anyone interested in watching it can find it easily.

An example of a way you can caption your gifsets:

@whumpgifathon | Day #: "prompt description" Show/Movie title, episode number, character name

And here's the prompt list!!! I hope you guys like it and find it inspiring but not overly challenging!

Remember that this is a relaxed event!!! I just want to offer my fellow visual artists some inspiring prompts and an opportunity to have some fun. So sit back, relax, and have fun!

Text version below:

Whump Gifathon - August 2024 Prompt List

Day 1: Space Oxygen Deprivation | Time Loop | Experiment

Day 2: Feeling Sick Fever | Infection | Delirium

Day 3: Environmental Earthquake | Storm | Hypothermia

Day 4: Captivity Chains | Caged | Rescue

Day 5: Water Shipwrecked | Drowning | Waterboarding

Day 6: Skills Try out a new technique you haven’t tried before using your favorite whump trope as inspiration!

Day 7: Emotional Crying | Panic Attack| Fear

Day 8: Hospital Ambulance | Intubation | Waking Up Disoriented

Day 9: Battlefield Explosion | Gunfire | Field Medicine

Day 10: Temporary Effects Blinded | Amnesia | Poisoned

Day 11: Recovery Sling | Pain | Seeking Support

Day 12: We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes Straight Jacket | Forced Injection | Hallucinations

Day 13: Aesthetic Highlight your favorite whump aesthetic

Day 14: Sleeping Nightmares | Exhaustion | Passing Out

Day 15: Trapped Impaled | Buried Alive | Locked Inside

Day 16: Western Cauterized | Bitten | Hanged

Day 17: Comfort Hugging | Blankets | Gentle Touch

Day 18: Broken Broken Bones | Emotional Breakdown | Broken Spirit

Day 19: Relationships What is your favorite type of whumpee/caretaker relationship? Platonic? Romantic? Familial? Show me!

Day 20: Blood Bloody Hands | Bleeding Out | Covered in Blood

Day 21: Fantastical Nonhuman | Resurrection | Magical Healing

Day 22: A Knock to the Head Headache | Knocked Out | Bloody face

Day 23: Travel Gone Wrong Car Accident | Plane Crash | Train Delrailment

Day 24: Magic Magical Exhaustion | Cursed | Possession

Day 25: Period Drama Pick a time period of your choice and highlight the whump!

Day 26: Everything Hurts and I’m Dying Grief | Resuscitation | Presumed Dead

Day 27: Superheroes Overused Powers | Powers with a Side Effect | Villain

Day 28: Torture Beaten| Flogging | Choked

Day 29: Restrained Zipties| Rope Leash | Medical Restraints

Day 30: First Aid Ice Pack | Stitches | Bandages

Day 31: Colors Highlight a specific color in your art

Alternate Prompts:

"Stay With Me" Begging Heat Exhaustion Bedside Vigil Self Surgery Taser Scar Reveal Collapsing Protective Electrocution

#whump #whump event #whumpedit #whumpgifathon #whump events #whump prompts #gif making #gif making events #2024 prompt list #2024 event info #mod post #hopefully i fixed all the typos and repeat prompts but if i missed a big one please let me know #i've read this like a billion times now #the words no longer mean anything to me lol

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trialserrors · 14 hours

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hornets views on vessels and strength, and how she echoes her father

hello! this post is an analysis on hornet where i discuss her mindset, her relationship with the knight, and her parallels with her father in detail. im writing this because i dont think a lot of hollow knight fans are aware of just how much she parallels the pale king, how her ideals become almost entirely the opposite of his, and how complex her relationship with the knight is.

okay, so, over the course of the story, hornet repeatedly tests and puts you through challenges to gauge if you can replace her sibling in the black egg and if you can, effectively, this time, imprison the radiance.

she meets you at greenpath to duel you, and see you prove your strength, and she meets you at the city of tears to direct you to where she wants you, and where she can make you prove yourself again. then, she meets you again at the void.

so lets talk about greenpath first.

before her fight begins, she says, “i know what you’d try to do. i can’t allow it.”

this is interesting, to me. if “what you’d try to do” means “free the hollow knight”, this is one of her first displays of (somewhat) apathy for the vessels. she knows that the vessel plan isnt working, she most likely knows the hollow knight is in suffering, she knows the hollow knight is her sibling and therefore has a bond with it; a motivation for her to free it herself.

but she doesnt, and shes willing to go to extremes to ensure that that the hollow knight is not freed. almost as if shes protecting her fathers vision, or as if she, too, holds the desperate ideal that the vessel plan can work. either way, both mindsets require the sacrifice of generosity and sympathy towards the hollow knight, and the vessels.

we know that later, she wants you to replace the hollow knight (and, you know, this means, for a good portion of the story, shes willing to continue the cycle of the vessels suffering) and i think both of these motivations are at play. something along the lines of, “dont go freeing the hollow knight, i have to test you, and see if youre able and worthy to replace it first, and then you can go freeing the hollow knight.”

now, lets zoom in.

so, when she challenges you, shes standing in front of the body of a vessel, her sibling. it is possible to read this as hornet protecting the body, and thinking you might desecrate or dishonor it. thats a fair interpretation.

however, she also fights overtop the body, with the possibility she could damage it herself, and doesnt bring it with her when she flees. she just kind of leaves it there for you to loot.

another, less charitable interpretation of this, is that that vessel, she had challenged before you, and that vessel hadnt been fortunate enough to win and pass her test. i mean, there is a weapon in it—another bug would have had to kill it.

and she is also very willing to kill you! you dont fail her fight by making a sign of defeat and then she backs off, knowing shes won. she fights you until you die.

(it can be said that the weapon is a nail and not a needle, therefore it was likely another, different bug that killed that vessel, but it also couldve been that hornet took the vessels own nail, that it was using to fight, and stabbed it into the vessels body.)

so, with these interpretations in mind, you could see hornet as doing what her father had done: testing any vessel to see if theyre worthy (through extreme means), and leaving them for dead if they arent.

however, i do not think hornet feels complete apathy for the two vessels, in this scene. when you dream nail her, one of her pieces of dialogue is, “only pity for your cursed kind.”

i do see this the same way as i see that cutscene in the path of pain, though.

is the pale king trying to bond with the pure vessel, in this moment? does that mean he knows, deep down, that the pure vessel is a failure, and that the vessel plan wont work? is it a desperate reach to find a connection in a being he doesnt think is capable of connection? did he talk to the vessel, when this really happened? does he feel guilt over the vessel plan? does he sympathize with it?

all of that is possible, but that doesnt mean he didnt repress those feelings and carried on with the hollow knights training, anyway. hornet may feel pity, or sympathy, for her siblings, but initially, its not enough to warrant her to want to stop the cycle.

okay. onto her meeting with you in the city of tears.

so, she never addresses anything about you, other than, basically, “you beat me. i underestimated you. you should know whats going on, then. you can fight me again and earn the right to assume your role.” in this scene.

but, she also addresses, at this point, that you can think and remember, (she says you could potentially know something) and that you can make choices and feel (she offers you the choice to keep going.) this goes against two requirements for the hollow knight: no mind to think, no will to break.

so, either, by continuing to test you, she wants to chase those possibilities out, or, she acknowledges that they are inescapable, and that somehow, you just have to be able to contain the radiance, anyway.

theres very little, but still some, sympathy in this exchange. she knows that if you knew what happened to your sibling, you might not want to continue. and she doesnt force you to.

theres the possibility that one of her lines, in this scene, could mean something more. “you i’ve underestimated, though i’ve since seen the truth.” i mean, yeah, she does mean what she says.

however, if she acknowledges that the vessel can think and feel, and still has the potential to contain the radiance, this could also mean: “i thought you wouldnt be able to achieve much while still facing the setback of possessing a mind. since you bested me, i dont think thats true anymore.”

so, yeah. “i’d feel no sadness in a weakling’s demise.” she is explicitly being apathetic and cold, here. she has only expressed concern or consideration for your feelings, thoughts or decisions when it pertains to whether you will or will not continue on to assume your purpose, so far.

there are other instances where she acknowledges your feelings in this scene, such as here. if you would not accept, it might mean you fear going forward, or would be stuck mourning the past, or something similar.

and theres also this line. this is interesting because it poses a juxtaposition between the pale kings requirement of “no will to break” and hornets requirement of “a will that cannot be broken.” perhaps she does not believe a vessels strength lies in its apathy and disconnect from a mind and emotions, but rather, from the mind and emotions’ own power, by the time this scene happens.

in this piece of dialogue, she describes the conception of the vessels as “tragic.” so, she does, very clearly, now, sympathize with you, understand your potential strengths, and she also believes in you (when she urges you to move forward, she exclaims it, “then do it!” and remarks multiple times on your strength, so, i think its safe to assume she has confidence in you, now.) shes forming a connection with you. yippee!

she also she saves you from the falling rocks inside the cast off shell. and she just kind of leaves you in the snow afterward. so, her connection with you isnt enough to make her want to check on you any more, at this point. she still expresses a certain amount of apathy. whether or not she worries about you afterward, and simply deems remaining long enough if youve been damaged is inappropriate? i couldnt say.

or maybe thats why she pauses over you, for a moment? she could be seeing if youre alright, or something? maybe she is, maybe she isnt. i dont know. it is notable though, that if she went in to save you, she had most likely been watching/stalking you.

probably something she learned from her mother, and deepnest, that stalking unseen. anyway, onto the void.

okay, here we go. here, we really get to talk about how hornet “echoes her father.” hornet meets you at a ledge— the same ledge where the pale king met with the pure vessel— you must ascend and take the journey again up, from the void, to her.

it is almost identical. prove yourself to your kin, through arduous trials. reach them, at the peak of the void, after making the difficult journey. meet them at a ledge. there, they will express their approval.

but the difference, i think, speak the loudest about hornets connection with, and view on you (ghost), and the rest of the vessels.

and that difference is? she talks to you.

she doesnt see youve succeeded, and then leave, expecting you to follow. she doesnt only stand there, watching and waiting to see if youve done what she wanted. she not only talks to you,

but she tries to relate with you, she relays her own, personal emotions to you, her hopes and wishes. would she ever have done this, back at greenpath? probably not. the pale king have done this? probably not.

and she also,

again, offers you a choice, and presents both sides of the decision, to you. she also acknowledges that you have the choice to replace the hollow knight, which, up until i unlocked this dialogue, seemed like the one linear goal she was directing you towards, to me, or stop the cycle completely by facing the “heart of the infection.”

okay. black egg time.

another acknowledgement of your emotions is in this line despite you reaching the goal that should have required the lack of them. she still thinks your strengths lie within your mind.

i think before this, hornet wouldve been more certain. but ghost has given her lots of new ideas, about her family, and about the vessels.

so, naturally, she might question if this really is the only correct path for you.

to conclude,

hornets views of the vessels, ghost, her sibling, and their role, all come to directly parallel the pale kings, eventually. ghosts journey effects her mindset deeply.

you see her, first, as the steely protector, in your way, who speaks with finality and fierceness. and, later, she becomes more of a sister—the only other free survivor of your family, who shares the knowledge of your tragedy, who will push you towards your goal, until youve accomplished it, and given you both, and your world, peace.

#hornet hollow knight #hollow knight #hk #hornet hk #little ghost #the knight #ghost hk #hollow knight analysis #hollow knight writing #hornet hk analysis #hornet hollow knight analysis #hornet analysis #this took me so long jesus

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 3 days

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First off, I absolutely adore your in-depth analysis and fantastic understanding of the Hazbin characters!! not sure how much you've touched on this topic particularly, but I'd love to hear your take on it! (esp w/ its relevance in szn 2)

How do you interpret the past dynamic between Vox and Alastor? Do you think Vox was genuine, close friends with Alastor, or were there hidden agendas of any kind? Given just how much their ideals and *everything* clash in present day, im curious yet struggling to pinpoint what exactly what MADE them acquaintances (and as close as they are implied to have been), besides solely their connection to technology and entertainment media, before their inevitable fallout. did Vox reallyyy change that much during his time in Hell? (or was there always an underlying tension between them?) (also, just, what the hell happened between these two)

Awww thank you ❤️

So, when it comes to Vox and Alastor, I think what brought them together was their ambition. Both of them crave power, though they define it differently. In my headcanon, at the beginning, Vox was more like Alastor because he didn't have enough influence to be his perfect self. Starting from nothing was hard for him because, like most capitalism lovers, he had never experienced building from scratch. Even though Alastor was simply useful to him, whatever they had was real. But it wasn’t genuine, because Vox is a narcissist, and we often attune to others perfectly. He liked Alastor, so he portrayed himself as someone Alastor would also like. In Vox's mind, this was just a way of caring for their friendship.

Additionally, Alastor is a very guarded person, so he wasn't fully genuine either. He hid things from Vox and often manipulated him because he knew how much Vox cared. Alastor cared too—he saw Vox as a perfect addition to his friend group, someone he could see as an equal. Knowing how driven and ambitious Vox is, Alastor seriously hoped they could rearrange Hell together, get rid of all the Overlords, and make the game more interesting.

The first issue that arose was Vox's greed. He wanted to expand (I wrote more about him here), but not in a way that Alastor liked. This was the first time Alastor realized that Vox might want to overthrow the ruling class just to take their place. Vox tried to explain that it was completely different—overthrowing old money would give power back to the people, creating a perfect anarcho-capitalist utopia, the ultimate survival of the fittest—something he and Alastor both wanted.

They were just two friends who started with a common goal but eventually realized they had very different ideas about making it real. Think Charles Xavier and Magneto or Dumbledore and Grindelwald. They began to notice flaws in their plan. On paper, a society where anyone can achieve high social status through determination and hard work sounds very free, very much up Alastor's alley. But upon deeper inspection, they realized that capitalism cannot exist without oppression and surveillance. It’s just a matter of whether it’s the government or corporations doing it.

Tension grew, and at some point, they couldn't stand each other. Especially when feelings came into the equation. Alastor hated that Vox loved the idea of him. He knew they were completely incompatible, and Vox would never truly love him, so it felt objectifying to know that, in Vox's mind, he wasn't even a real person, just something Vox wanted him to be. On the other hand, Vox was terribly frustrated with Alastor not playing along with his fantasy. They could have become the most powerful couple in Hell, but Alastor rejected both his advances and his ideas. However, the toxicity worked both ways—Alastor felt betrayed by Vox, so he became unnecessarily cruel and neglectful, trying to punish Vox for being who he was.

Okay, I know this take is filled with my personal headcanons, but I think that canonically their relationship followed this pattern of alliance based on common goals and mutual (mis)understanding, eventually falling apart after realizing they actually wanted very different things.

Regarding its relevance in season two, I expect that we will learn their exact backstory. I hope that after years of feeding into hate and bitterness, they will escalate this conflict until there's nothing but scorched earth. Also, I think we will learn that Alastor does, in fact, care deeply—he hates Vox fiercely but hides it better.

#hazbin hotel #vox #vox hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #ask #headcanon

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canisalbus · 6 months

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I just recently started following you so i don't have the full lore of your murderous gay religiously traumatized doggos, BUT, from my understanding, they are Italian and i don't know what part of Italy they are from, yet i can't help headcanoning Vasco as Tuscan, while Machete is probably from some part of Veneto. And as an Italian who has heard Tuscans and Veneto dialet, well it's an hilarious mental image.

Vasco is indeed Tuscan, Florentine to be specific. He comes from a wealthy and influential noble family that has lived in Florence for centuries. He's proud of his roots, and it's usually easy for strangers to tell where he's from. He's a resonably successful politician and has worked as an ambassador and representative of Florence on numerous occasions.

Machete is originally Sicilian (ironically about as far from Veneto as possible), although he was taken to mainland at young age and has lived in several places since then, before ending up in Rome. The way I see it, he exhibits very little local color, his demeanor and (even though Italian hadn't become a standardized language yet) way of speaking are formal, neutral and scarcely give away any hints about his personal history, at least in the 16th century canon.

#I tend to take the easy way out with the various Italian dialects/languages and temper their effect on how the dog world works #even though to my understanding in reality they differ drastically from each other even today and they aren't always mutually intelligible #especially when you compare northern and southern ones #I know at least Sicilian is so different from modern day Italian it's considered a separate language entirely #it isn't the only one but I'm not a linguist and not even Italian so I'm not really qualified to be explaining any of this to you #main point is that my dogs are well traveled educated and adaptable so I'd like to believe that they manage #otherwise making this whole scenario work would become very complicated #language barriers aplenty #Machete is a fast learner with a natural knack for languages so he absorbs/decodes new ones easily #and I can see him acting as an interpreter if necessary #which is a valuable trait for someone working as the secretary of state I'd imagine #a lot of people he ends up dealing with speak at least passable Latin so at a pinch they might perhaps try switching to that?#Vasco might have a Tuscan flavor but Machete is more of a blank slate (at least in public and at work)#answered #fallenoftheromaempire #feel free to correct me if I've gotten something wrong I'm not an expert and this stuff is complicated for an outsider

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kenntolog · 1 month

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Oh oh! I want to tag in!! I’m not entirely sure if this is something you’re comfortable with, but since cool bf Sukuna loser gf reader takes place in university, I think I’d be super cool seeing sukuna get wasted and being so soft to reader and just loving her while she’s all flustered and maybe on the verge of tears cause she feels so loved (not that she didn’t before, but sukuna is like, being extra about it you know?), thought it be cute!!

𝝑𝝔 an: hey sweet anon!! this is indeed very cute and charming so i hope you enjoy my interpretation!! read more ab cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here! wc: throwing up, drinking.

cool boyfriend sukuna is so wasted he loses his filter completely, his affectionate nature that was sealed deep inside of him, threatening to break out only for his loser girlfriend, finally free of it’s restraints.

“you’re always so good t’me, baby,” he mumbles, face snug in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and in any other setting in would’ve been very very sweet, but not when he’s laying on top of you by the entrance of your place, having lost his balance when trying to get out of his shoes.

“‘kunaa~ d’you wanna maybe get up?” you whine, trying to move him off.

“i’ll stay where i want,” he lifts his head up, a frown appearing on his face before he visibly stiffens. you eye him warily before you realise that he’s probably going to throw up and it’s gonna be all over you if he doesn’t move.

thankfully, sukuna has mercy and quickly moves away from you, standing up and running to the bathroom, and soon enough you hear him groaning in pain and agony. you rub his back through it all, cringing at the way he still manages to curse in between choking on his own vomit, and lift him up making him drink some water and get ready to wash his teeth.

he’s still very much drunk, now uncharacteristically quiet as he stares at you through the mirror while brush his teeth carefully. he’s probably capable of doing it himself, you think, but you don’t think he should let go of the sink’s edge, still swaying a bit from side to side.

since you’re focused on brushing his teeth so you don’t notice his half-lidded gaze on you until you’re done, instructing him to spit out the excess toothpaste.

“let’s get you to bed, ‘kuna,” you mumble, shy under his intense gaze, and tug him by his arm gently, leading him out of the bathroom.

sukuna falls on the bed like a sack of potatoes, pulling you down along with himself as he sighs in delight.

“g’night, baby.” he mutters, holding you close to his chest, but you chuckle nervously, trying to get out of his hold instead since you still had to change and do your routine before sleep. “where the hell are you goin’?”

“i gotta change and wash—”

“no, i can’t sleep without you, baby,” he pouts and you can barely keep your face intact to not give away your bewilderment because this is a revelation for you. his arms tighten around you a little as he glares at you sleepily.

“it’ll take just a couple of minutes, ‘kuna,” you attempt to negotiate once again. he stares at you for a few seconds before groaning and sitting up.

“‘m comin’ with you.”

you sigh, suppressing your growing smile, but don’t resist and let him tug you both into your bathroom.

———————

“you don’t even have to do all this shit,” sukuna complains quietly now that he’s settled: head heavy on your shoulder with arms wrapped around your middle as he blinks slowly and yawns occasionally.

you don’t give him an answer, busy with the last step of your routine, before you feel him breathing you in slightly, lips nipping on the skin of your neck.

“you’re the prettiest girl in the world for me,” he mutters simply, kissing your jaw and cheek as his hands rub up and down your sides soothingly. you feel your face heat up when his eyes lock with yours through the mirror, your flustered state now more visible. “the best girl in the world.”

“s’kuna,” you mumble, looking down at your hands so that he doesn’t see your cheeks dusting with the embarrassing pink.

he ignores you, fingers clasping around yours as he pulls you out of the bathroom and to your bed. once again, sukuna drags you into the bed with himself, covering you both with your blanket.

“my girl,” he sighs with a sleepy grin and cups your face with both hands, leaning in to place a kiss on your nose and lips. “took care of me so well t’night.”

you almost whine in embarrassment, hiding your face in his chest so sukuna doesn’t see the way your bottom lip juts out and eyes get watery as you try your best to not sniffle so much. the amount of love you feel from him is so overwhelming you start feeling stupid for the way you don’t know whether to laugh in delight or cry from the softness.

“love you so much.”

“love you too, ‘kuna.”

+ bonus!

“were you cryin’ into my chest?”

“n-no, why’d you say that?”

“you totally were, loser.”

“sukuna!”

#— miya writes!#sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader

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psychotrenny · 1 year

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problem: i am not in the habit of looking for detailed biographical information of people i mock online

To be clear to anyone who's confused; I wasn't giving direct literal instruction on the best way to behave online. In an ideal world we would all refrain from all forms of cruelty and seek to approach each other in the best possible faith with the intention of mutual enrichment :) My point was simply that people get very vitriolic over the half formed opinions of young people. So often you'll see some immature and inexperienced person make a statement reflecting their immaturity and lack of experience and receiving a ludicrously disproportionate amount of hatred. I was pointing out in a flippant way that there are better ways to react than viciously "dunking on" someone for a mildly annoying opinion when there are much worse opinions voiced by people with far fewer excuses for holding them. I'm not even saying that you *should* be mocking the aforementioned 30 somethings, just that you need to keep things in perspective when it comes to approaching opinions online

#I'm not saying that you can feel free to leave mean comments as long as you've looked up their age first #This is a flippant expression of my attitude #Not a black and white ruleset for who the appropriate targets of vitriol are-If I'm being honest for a second there aren't any #And I'm treating this ask as a good faith question but I'm very well aware it's likely a classic case #of tumblr users interpreting things in the worst possible way in order to get off an epic dunk/sick burn

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ohproserpine · 4 months

Text

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

#calm before the #before the :))#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

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