You Know Those "I Am Not A Robot" Tests That Some Websites Require? Well The Autobots Sure Didn't. Ratchet

Always, I love explaining my thought processes

Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.

Oh my GOD-

Scuttles, Alastor's antler crab lmao

Alastor does something to piss Scuttles off and he either just pulls Al's hair/pokes his scalp with his sharp little legs, or straight up abandons ship (as seen above - this happens about twice a week, it's just usually in Alastor's room)

(had to repost because i'm an idiot)

soooooouh, this happened the other day 😂

everything started from a conversation between me and @supdudes95 having hard times getting decent references of Alastor from the serie, then she had a fever vivid dream and THIS was born

I listened to Crab Rave on loop while doing this, i cant-

Halt, frustrated: Oh fuck me!

Crowley: I thought you'd never ask

I love therapy animals, and I show this by giving one to all of my blorbos - because they desperately need them.

Wish I Could Love You

HA, you though that just because the last thing I posted was fluff, that I'd ease off the angst train??? Well April Fools bitches, I'm back with even more angst than before!!!!!

Here's the Ao3 link

TW for some serious acephobia (internalized and otherwise) and references to conversion therapy. Also a bit of self-harm at the end, because Alastor has trichotillomania in canon (as seen during his meltdown). If you want to avoid that, it starts at "Crimson claws" and ends at "tears". It's just one sentence, so you won't miss much. There is also a brief non-con kiss. I just wanted to vent the aroace pain from close friends confessing romantic feelings, and I almost made myself cry at work, so fun times

(PS: this does not mean I think ships with Alastor are not valid. I myself am in a happy long-term relationship. Asexuality and Aromanticism are part of a spectrum which means there are many ways for it to be interpreted by those who identify with the terms. There are a few ships with Alastor that I love, but the people writing them have to be careful to consider his identity while doing so)

ANYWAYS, I'll stop rambling now and let you read the fic

An evening spent with Vox was always guaranteed to be interesting. That was part of what had drawn Alastor to him in the first place after all, the Radio Demon forever seeking entertainment. However, after twenty years of friendship even Alastor could admit he was no longer in it for the entertainment factor. Even through his lifetime of severe emotional repression, Alastor was smart enough to see that he had grown to genuinely care about the TV demon - which had led to quite the emotional meltdown on his part, embarrassingly enough.

All of that was besides the point. The point was that even though they were just having dinner in Vox’s apartment as they did at least once a week, things still had yet to become dull, which was quite the accomplishment for someone whose attention was as flighty as Alastor’s. 

As Vox rambled about this new guy he had met - Mateo? Stephano? No, that wasn’t it - Valentino! As Vox rambled about this Valentino character, Alastor mused on the relationship he had with the TV demon. The red-head had never had a positive relationship with another man before, besides Husker of course. That hardly counted though, considering he owned the former overlord’s soul. Vox was truly a novelty. 

“Hey, Alastor?” The deer demon was pulled from his thoughts by his friend’s slightly hesitant tone. He focused back in on Vox’s face, and was a bit confused by the way Vox’s gaze was darting around the room. It looked like he wanted to look at Alastor but was too flustered to do so, a slight red glow lighting up the lower portion of his screen where his cheeks would be.

“What is it?” Alastor asked, slightly wary of the strange atmosphere that had filled the air around the couch they had chosen to share. His ears pinning back was the only outward sign of his unease. 

Vox finally seemed to get over whatever was keeping him from making eye contact, but Alastor couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t. He didn’t know how to process the unbearably soft way the other was looking at him. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, as though he had missed a stair. 

Vox reached over and gently took Alastor’s hands in his own, and Alastor suddenly found himself wishing he hadn’t set his plate on the coffee table - it would have given him an excuse to avoid this soft contact that felt far too intimate, even with their long-term friendship.

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while, but it never felt like the right time.” Vox shifted one hand so that it gently cradled Alastor’s cheek, and as he continued, Alastor’s smile shrunk to the smallest it had been since he had been forced to maintain it - unable to turn downwards, but begging to reflect the dread blooming in his chest.

“But, I’m tired of waiting for ‘the right time’. So, I’m just gonna come out and say it.”

“Vox…please,” Alastor begged, voice refusing to rise above a whisper, and static mangling his words. Internally, he was screaming, begging on his knees for Vox to stop before he said something he couldn’t take back. Vox either didn’t hear him or didn’t understand what he meant, because the TV demon continued forward.

“I love you, Alastor. I have for a long time, and I want to spend the rest of my afterlife loving you. We’ve been friends for such a long time, and I want to move to the next step in our relationship.” Vox was positively beaming, warm love and sincere affection in his eyes as he peered deep into Alastor’s soul - unable to see the pain he had wrought with those three words.

Alastor was crushed. His throat closed up and it felt like a clawed fist had clenched around his chest, his heart aching and lungs unable to draw breath. He tried to choke words past his constricted throat, but couldn’t force anything out. His brows lowered as his scarlet eyes widened, burning with hurt and shock.

Vox’s own brows furrowed in concern at Alastor’s silence. “Alastor?”

Alastor could barely hear him over his rushing thoughts. He felt so…used. How long had their friendship been based around Vox’s desire to get into his pants? What parts of their relationship had been genuine friendship rather than a furthering of Vox’s goals for a romantic partner? Was this Alastor’s fault? Had he done something to encourage this?

The worst part was the guilt. Alastor couldn’t say it about very many people, either in the living world or in Hell, but he truly loved Vox. He loved him as he loved Rosie, and he saw the other demon as the brother he’d never had in life, but that was the problem. He could never give Vox what he wanted. Alastor knew he was broken - the doctors had confirmed as much while he was alive, and the medications and more aggressive treatments he had received for his dysfunction had never worked as intended. 

Vox deserved so much better.

His eyes burned and his stomach clenched with nausea, and Alastor fought back tears that hadn’t fallen since his mother’s passing. Alastor wanted to love Vox that way, if only to spare his feelings, but he just couldn’t. 

Vox leaned forward, taking Alastor’s silence as a positive answer, and as he guided Alastor’s face in for a gentle kiss, the deer demon panicked. He lurched back as their lips connected, accidentally throwing himself off the couch to lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

Vox looked startled as he took in Alastor’s panicked expression, and made to stand as Alastor scrambled to his feet. 

“Alastor, what - ?” he started, reaching for the shorter demon’s hand. Alastor jerked back as though he’d been burned.

“Don’t,” he hissed defensively, clutching his hands to his chest like he was afraid to be within touching distance of the other demon. “Don’t touch me!”

Vox looked crushed. Alastor felt as though a spear had stabbed through his heart: he caused that expression on Vox’s face. 

“I won’t - I can’t - !” Alastor growled in pain and frustration, unable to articulate his thoughts. He tried to think of something, anything that could salvage their relationship before things got out of hand, but the rage growing in Vox’s expression burned that possibility into mere ashes. The anger masked the hurt that had been there previously.

“Are you kidding me?!” Vox didn’t quite shout, but to Alastor, he might as well have screamed through a megaphone. The deer demon took two steps back for every advance Vox made, feeling uncharacteristically like prey. He was used to having control over every interaction, but this had quickly spiraled into something monstrous.

“Twenty years of friendship all for you to get pissed when I say I want to progress things like a normal person would?! I waited, wanting you to be comfortable because I know you need time to adjust to people, but you still don’t care about me enough to even consider it?! If you never wanted me, why did you lead me on? Why did you pretend to enjoy my company if you knew you would reject me? Is my pain really that funny to you? Fuck, Alastor - can’t you see how hard I’m trying?” Vox had backed Alastor into a corner, and the deer demon was reminded violently of his youth - long hours spent cowering beneath someone who wanted nothing more than to make Alastor wish he was never born.

Alastor hadn’t felt this small since he had made his deal, and he had never assumed he would feel that way around Vox. The Radio Demon was so overwhelmed with emotion, that he did the one thing he had promised himself he would never do again.

He ran.

As Alastor fled into his shadows, he felt Vox’s arms try to wrap around him and prevent his escape, and heard the TV demon’s frustrated and agonized cry as he slipped under the door. He didn’t stop until he reached his radio tower, and reverted back to his more solid form once he was safely inside.

Alastor backed away from the door until his back hit the wall, and he slowly slid down it until he was sitting on the floor with his knees curled to his chest. A soft, staticky whimper forced its way past his lips before he could silence it, and the tears he’d been fighting finally burned fiery tracks down his cheeks. Alastor’s breath hitched, and he buried his face in his knees, wrapping his arms around his head and legs in a futile attempt to muffle the choked hiccups.

Sobs tore out of his throat from a place deep within his chest, wracking his whole body with the force of them. Stitches pulled at the corners of his mouth, forcing him to grin through his tears, and he had never wished so strongly for the ability to stop smiling. Crimson claws fisted in his hair, scratching at his scalp in his panic and sending small rivulets of blood down his face to merge with the tears.

Alastor had just destroyed one of his closest relationships because he was so broken that he couldn’t even reciprocate affection normally. It was all his fault, and the guilt tore at him in ways he hadn’t felt in decades.

Drowning in grief for the bridge he’d set ablaze, Alastor couldn’t stop thinking about how - outside of his treatment plans - Vox had stolen his first kiss.

part 3 to the Therapy Pig Fat Nuggets series

Only chapter 1 is out rn, but I should be updating on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so keep an eye out

Lovers of deer Alastor should definitely take a look lol. This was requested by @guesswhocouldntsleep feast my friend

Alternate title was "Seeing How Much I can Traumatize Alastor Before Characters Start to Break the Fourth Wall Over It"

Edit: all chapters are now posted

As an asexual, Alastor is so valid for this😭

Look, sometimes I see someone who is really pretty and I completely shut down. Do I want to bang that person? No. But holy SHIT they're pretty, and I have to tell myself to stop looking so I don't make them uncomfortable. So Alastor? Completely valid babe. Get it.

Also, his face in the 4th panel is killing me🤣 baby's first crush and it hit him like a freight train

Poor Husk, can't even have a break even in summer break and Al, looks kind of those smitten girls, trying to spy on their crushes (I don't blame him though XD).

Credits

Halt's Brain Damage

I mentioned Halt's head trauma in an earlier post, and said that I would elaborate on it. Well, this is my elaboration. Keep in mind, I am not a health care professional, I am only certified to perform first aid. I am only speaking from what I have witnessed in someone who has had a similar condition from a motorcycle accident, and from what I find and cross-reference in my internet search on the matter.

Halt, as we know, has suffered MANY blows to the head - a lot of which could have been fatal if not for the intervening hand of Lady Luck and some very conveniently placed Plot Armor™. Now something that both the characters in the books, and probably a good portion of the readers either don't know about or haven't considered is the resulting brain damage - or more specifically, the damage done to Halt's gray matter.

For those of you who don't know (no shame), gray matter is tissue in the brain that is largely responsible for motor functions, emotions, and memory. Gray matter cells are known to be the longest lasting cells in the body, but they do tend to degenerate and die as people get old. There are other things that can speed up the process of gray matter cell death, most notably Alzheimer's disease, Parkinson's disease, multiple sclerosis, and traumatic brain injury.

I have a friend who was once in a bad motorcycle accident that resulted in a metal rod and screws being put into his wrist, and a sudden increase in gray matter cell death brought on by the head trauma. He was a teacher of mine and currently has a wife, daughters, and grand daughters, and he is just over fifty years old. I had the same class with him all year for 4 years (JROTC), and during that time, I was able to see how the condition affected him as time passed. He does make jokes about it, and is very open with it. I also asked him if it would be okay to post this beforehand, don't worry. The symptoms that Halt experience in my headcanon align with this because it is my closest experience with it.

Obviously, these characters don't know what gray matter is, but that doesn't mean it won't affect Halt, and some of these symptoms are things that Halt experiences in the books. I'll give examples of that too.

One of the symptoms of gray matter damage is difficulty controlling emotions. Now you may be saying, "But Void, Halt practically patented the ability to control emotions," and you're right. However, we all know that Halt has a pretty quick temper that can lead to some rash decisions - and this seems to get slightly worse as the books go on. One of the biggest emotions that people with damaged brain matter have issues dealing with is anger - closely followed by sadness and feelings of emptiness (AKA signs of depression).

Another symptom of gray matter damage is memory loss. The only example of this I can think of off the top of my head (that doesn't include when he was poisoned which is a whole other type of trauma) is when he had extreme trouble finding the correlation between the red hills and Redmont in book 7. Then again, it was a stressful situation and no one can be expected to notice everything. Not to mention that he was the only one to make the connection at all. This one and the next one are more for angst potential then as current existing evidence. Imagine really quick as Halt gets older that the memory loss starts slow - forgetting that he already told someone something, forgetting where he put something, etc. Small stuff. But later, it gets worse. He starts to forget meeting new people, important past events, how to cook certain things, or even just trailing off in the middle of a sentence - unable to remember his original purpose for speaking, almost as if a sort of fog has started blocking things out. A lot of times, he'll know that he knew it at some point, but sometimes, he doesn't remember that he knew that thing in the first place. Sometimes gentle reminders will work, and other times, entire stories, recipes, and tasks will have to be completely re-hashed with him.

The final symptom I'm going to cover in this already too-long post is how gray matter damage affects fine motor skills and language. I'm fairly certain that there is an example of this somewhere in the books, But I would have no clue where to look. We're going full angst potential on this one boys. Again, it starts small - some slight tremors in his hands here, a troublesome button there. Then, it gets worse as the years pass. Having difficulty tying knots, writing getting more and more difficult, cutting his hand while trying to prepare food, dropping his mug of coffee for no apparent reason, sometimes slurring his speech, forgetting certain words from other languages, not realizing that he had reverted back to Hibernian in the middle of a sentence because his brain temporarily stopped being able to comprehend Araluen speech.

Halt doesn't want to tell anyone that the changes in his behavior that he can't seem to control frighten him. He's never been genuinely afraid of his own mind before up until he could no longer control what happened. It was a type of fear he was unfamiliar with, but couldn't stop from growing every time he failed to tie a knot, or someone told him about an event he couldn't remember. Everyone else was afraid too, but they toned down their own fear whenever they saw that desperate look in Halt's eyes that he couldn't quite hide, the one that begged for any confirmation that he wasn't crazy.

What the hell. I just wrote an entire essay. You know those posts that say, "In this essay I will discuss..." but they never get to the essay? Yeah, that but completed. This was born from the fact that Hal't has had a bunch of head injuries and I immediately thought 'haha brain damage go brr' and proceeded to write that in essay form. If you've made it to the end of this monstrosity, more power to you.

I'm going to try to go into a coma now.

The Softest Love

Lucifer can't help but fall in love with making Alastor fall apart, and Alastor can't help but love it just as much.

OR

QPR Radioapple tickle fic, if you don't like, just keep scrolling babes

Just to be clear, there is NO sex in this and nothing alluding to it, Al's just shirtless lol

hello its me- haunting your dashboard and askbox once more haha-

i saw this somewhere else but I don't remember where; what would hell's version of winter be like? I remembered your headcanon about alastor getting cold easily and I would just like to share my vision.

so hell has an extreme climate- we know that- so winter is basically Antarctica. not alastor-friendly AT ALL, it only ever happens once in a blue moon in hell so he's never really had to deal with this before. the whump possibilities are endless lmao. all-around suffering for the deer man.

do with this what you will! no pressure ofc, this is more like a concept you could make your own story or au with so i'm not sure if it counts as an ask- but do whatever you wanna, and if you did ever do a fic, (if that be a series or a one-shot) I would love to make a comic or cover as a Collab! :D

PLEASE never apologize for haunting my dash/asks, this blog is very ghost-friendly!!!!! All ghosts are allowed to haunt as they please!!

As for your beautiful vision: I love it. I will help it grow and will nourish it until it becomes a beautiful whump monster right here on my little laptop. Not sure WHEN I will make it happen, but I WILL make it happen. For now though, I will simply add to this headcanon (expect whatever I add to probably end up in the fic lol)

Winter in Hell is quite the phenomena - only occurring around once every century or so. It doesn't stick to a set schedule though (Lucifer still shudders when he remembers that time that they had five winters within the span of a single decade.) They are also completely by surprise: the most notice Hell has ever had for a winter is that the temperature dropped five degrees in one day. The next morning, sinners couldn't even open their doors the snow was piled so high. And of course, it wouldn't be Hell if the winters were the normal length, no. Winters in Hell can be anything from six months to the record of three motherfucking years. The last winter took place in the late 1910s - about a decade or so before Alastor died.

As mentioned in my previous headcanon, Alastor is a Louisiana boy. And Louisiana did not receive a SINGLE FUCKING INCH of snowfall the entire time Alastor was alive (trust me I CHECKED, that shit is WILD). That means a few things. 1.) Alastor has never seen snow in his now 120ish years of existing. 2.) Alastor has never felt anything below 50°F his entire existence. 3.) Alastor is painfully thin, which means his body has no way to preserve heat. And 4.) Alastor does not appear to have any clothing besides his three-piece suit that he wears all the time in Hell's usual blazing temperatures with seemingly no issue. Of course, this means that his suit would do nothing for him in Actual Cold Weather since he's so used to it.

With all of this knowledge, the only conclusion I can draw is that once winter actually hits, Alastor is royally FUCKED. Especially considering that a winter in Hell is compiled of all of the worst things about winter. The cold air is dry, and the wind is sharp and biting - in the way that leaves your face stinging and your hands and lips splitting. Somehow simultaneously, the snow can change between huge flakes and straight-up sleet, which if you've ever been in sleet, you know it sucks major ass.

If someone doesn't give Alastor a heated blanket He Will Die. Alastor makes the mistake of going outside exactly twice (because let's face it, I love him but this man is too prideful to accept that the weather will kill him after only one attempt - he's Just A Bit Dumb). Both times he has to be rescued by someone at the hotel after he almost fucking freezes to death like An Idiot, and he manages to also get hypothermia both times because he refuses to do anything in halves. After he also almost freezes to death in his room (which is how they find out there's a draft), he's not even allowed in there, and they move him to a guest room right next to Charlie and Vaggie's room that Lucifer added a fireplace to. He alternates between the kitchen (the oven is very warm and Food), his room (the fireplace is very warm and the bed is cozy), and the couch in the lobby (the fireplace is very warm and the couch is cozy and also Alastor is antisocially social).

He is cold. He is miserable. He is perpetually shaking like an old chihuahua. Some of the residents thought it was funny at first, but that quickly stopped after the first Almost Death. They have to watch him because Alastor becomes very despondent, and if he stops shivering, he needs to be warmed up again. Alastor is more exhausted during the winter then he has ever been in his entire existence due to all the energy his body is burning trying to stay warm. He's sleeping more than ever, but he looks absolutely terrible - eyebags so dark they look like a goth guy's eyeshadow, hair a mess, and an overall very strained look about him. He also eats a lot less, so he begins losing weight which is the exact opposite of helpful in this situation. It gets to the point where Husk is willingly braving the elements to get to the butcher shop Alastor likes just to get sinner meat so he will hopefully get something in him.

This winter is the first time any of them have ever seen him willingly snuggle up to someone, and it's fucking LUCIFER because this little bastard puts out the most heat because for some reason that it part of being a seraphim. Lucifer for his part just kinda lets it slide because Alastor would probably die if he didn't and that would make Charlie sad. Ok, and he kinda reminds Lucifer of when Charlie was little and would snuggle up to him, but that's no one's business but his own. If he's a little softer with Alastor afterwards, and less easily provoked by the sinner, that is also no one's business but his own.

hooo, I really let this one get away from me lol. Hope you enjoy this, and please feel free to haunt me as much as you want!! And when I eventually get this pushed out, it would be absolutely fantastic if you decided to make a comic/cover. I absolutely love your art