You Gotta Pay If You Wanna Waste My Time

@a-hazbin-spider (dealer’s choice :3c)

@a-hazbin-spider

Blink blink. After a brief once over, making sure it was not coming from the man before him, he starts to dab some closest to his face with a kerchief.

After hearing him out and at the very least keeping his eyes cleared, he was able to notice the raw knuckles. Shame, really. That someone had to bother him and leave a mark despite being a total waste of a brawl. Humming noncommittally, Angel is sure to get a clean portion of cloth to gingerly dab at.

“Aww, thank you~ For you I can always make more.” He flutters his lashes for mass effect. Not only is he quite happy his silly doodles are appreciated, but The comment on Fat Nuggets is a relief to say the least. He would get into a fist fight with God over his beautiful porcine child.

“I can promise if ya ain’t like any of my nicknames I could change em! But I can’t promise to be intellectual as you are. I left some blank I wasn’t so sure of.” A pink pen is twirled in his hand while he gives a brief affirmation. Huh. How big was he in comparison? Not like he thinks of these things very much, but the only times he’d been without those stripper heels were when he’d been bathed. Being in the over two-meter bracket leaves little room for being smaller than others.

"Mm, the only one I'm not overtly fond of is the whole... Smiles deal." It was a bit disturbing to be consistently reminded of his inability to do anything but. No matter how it had been built around his initial desire to only ever grin of his own volition, he did not appreciate it being a permanent fixture.

But his ears lifted in some moderate surprise.

"It-... Er... he does?" Alastor asked as he thought back towards the little pig that Angel seemed to treat almost like a child rather than the barn animal that it actually was.

"I always thought he would be concerned that I'd turn him to sausage."

“Oh, s’that right?” Truth be told he’d forgotten a bit of what he’d used. Oddly enough, he’d used less nicknames as their relationship developed. Most were when he’d been learning to put a face to the name to the title. Asking what the deal was with ‘Smiles’ or Freaky-Face. Guess he knew better now. Not that he knew what it entailed, but he didn’t need to. He respected Alastor enough. And that wasn’t a creative one anyway. “Guess I’ll keep that in mind. I say lots of things, one of em is bound to be a hit n’ miss.”

Maybe he should write it somewhere. Draw on a sticky-note for his vanity. Al is the main one he uses anyway, but it wouldn’t hurt to jot a reminder, or just different ones to use.

Attention to Fat Nuggets drags him from the mental checklist. “Yeh, actually. I mean, I don’t think that ever crossed his lil head but I could see what ya goin’ for. He seems comfortable round ya’s. And he’s not like that with people that- well, give him a reason not to.”

He’d had the pig hide before, or if things looked like they’d turn for the worse he’d had him locked away for safe keeping. He learned a sense of danger, and Felt safe enough to sleep within inches of the Radio Demon.

@a-hazbin-spider (dealer’s choice :3c)

@a-hazbin-spider

Blink blink. After a brief once over, making sure it was not coming from the man before him, he starts to dab some closest to his face with a kerchief.

It is of no surprise there is a little hesitation, hell, the history of Alastor’s luck with that sort if thing gave him even more reason than the common occurrence of general insincere passes for some benefit.

After all, so often everything had a price to it. Flattery got someone into a person’s clutches, in a debt or with a chain around their neck. He knows this song and dance. Performed the choreography, had the routine down to a science as it were. There was no reason to lie here. Any white lie or flattery was hardly pressured on him, but, things like this, if anything, he could craft something special. Sure he had been a bit cliche admiring his eyes, but he’d meant it. And even those paying him don’t request anything so soft or easy. He can say for sure that he doesn’t toss around sweet nothings like that.

When Alastor started, he expected something different, the subject was directed back to something that was buried a bit, in this moment of still it was a good chance to brush it off and revisit.

After blinking away his few seconds of surprise, he meets the question head on, despite his usual avoidance for things serious- this was pretty important. Not only that, it was only fair Alastor had his answer, things like this? It was a two way sort of thing. He deserved something honest.

“I guess I wouldn’t know about anythin’ super specific, I never been great at seein’ a future past maybe needin’ to plan out hits or schedules. That ain’t really what yer askin’ though.” A short awkward laugh stalls like a stubborn engine, like it’d just needed that one extra push to turn over. Maybe it was admitting again his failure, or perhaps it just brought forth the idea again that it was a lost cause, all for nothing after all they’d done, but he almost feels guilty when the words leave his mouth again.

“I think I accepted that th’ whole redemption, all that ascension… ain’t really for someone like me. And. I been a bit averse to the idea. Leavin’- I don’t wanna leave ya. I don’t wanna leave Nuggs either.”

Truth be told, he had a hard time stomaching that when the idea turned into something more tangible. He’d miss Cherri, Husk, Niffty- sure it meant he’d see Pentious again, but, selfish as it sounded he’d much rather he rejoin the ranks down here. His father always knew he was too soft, and it wasn’t like he can deny that when he can feel that unpleasant tightness in his chest over something as small as a hypothetical.

It's probably fairly obvious what he's fishing for. Some indication that there is an after. Somewhere. Somehow. Alastor is not certain when he last found himself to be so compelled by the potential for something like this - but he is, nonetheless, focused much more heavily on the way their fingers entwine while he listens intently to Angel Dust's answer. He knows it will not provide him with ultimate satisfaction or anything so concrete. But perhaps it does not need to be.

He will be in Hell for the foreseeable future. What else has he to look forward to for eternity?

But to hear the other confirm what Alastor hopes is sufficient enough, he realizes. Redemption, perhaps, is not in the cards for either of them. And while anyone else might coo and fawn over Angel's neglect towards the effort he's already put into his work at the hotel... Alastor is not that sort of person, selfish and with no interest in encouraging anything he does not want to see, personally.

Angel Dust, in his estimation, does not belong in Heaven, tucked amid self-righteous zealots who will never understand who and what they have the benefit of sharing space with. Angel belongs, instead, hoarded carefully and closely with him - where he can find himself a place and power that brings him out of the depths of servitude and control.

"If you were merely a pet, then we would not be here like this," he replies steadily, once Angel seems to probe him for a response. Alastor shifts then, sitting upright and giving the other a little tug to settle further against him, occupying his free hand with the smoothing of various bits of the other's fuzzy skin. "And I would not feel as adamant as I do that you remain with me for as long as eternity allows. Perhaps that is a bit fantastical and... Oh, I don't know. Romantic, I suppose." In whatever way it can be.

"But it is truth. There are things you can yet accomplish here that some place like... Heaven could never possibly allow," he continues, the word 'Heaven' coated in a bit of bitterness and venom.

"...I've never been a man to commit to much of anything. But you are worth the effort. Regardless of what this place may tell you otherwise."

A nudge of his nose against Angel's hopefully cements the thought in the physical, and he breathes out slowly.

"You should sleep. Get decent rest while you can."

Being good enough, he realizes, is relieving beyond the rest for his wicked weary body. Not knowing exactly what this was, what it meant for plans, or where he would be- he’s glad that the answer ‘with you’ was sufficient. Because really, it is all he could think concretely.

The padding of his fingers trace over Alastor’s joints, the interlocking of their fingers affording him the means to show care. Assurance that this is more than enough. Just his presence would do. All the other things were lovely, being held, any meals they shared, the dancing and music- he loved it. But it was the man with him that’d made it all so enjoyable, any time spent with the stag was never wasted or time that needed something else to fill it. Which is why any silence spent here lying with him was already something he was grateful for.

Having nothing to change about who he was- that was gratuitous as well. When others might think his efforts weren’t enough, or that his problems were just for the kind of thing he was, Alastor had no issue. Not in the way Valentino had no issue, no that was… different. The red-head was far more accepting in the truest form. Not wanting him to simply bend in a different way, but allowing him openness.

When he dismisses heaven, he doesn’t say that Angel didn’t deserve something better or that he owed it to others to be elsewhere, he just said that perhaps there was something outside of that wherein something better lied.

Angel would argue his point was merely to be silly, but the sweet words not only flood his heart with a fluffy giddiness, they also solidify that the other means to show his intentions, to expose his feelings and let them hold weight. Weight that he’d gladly take up.

“That’s a long time I wouldn’t mind fillin’ up. I’d like to make that much of a reality as I can.”

Each confession makes another burst of happiness bloom inside his ribs, felt like a mass of vines and foliage flourishing from within. Commitment was big, and difficult and took trust, just as much as it took that seeded bond to be important to nurture. He didn’t always understand what he felt, which- for someone always finding ways to read and be one step in front of the wild improv show that he lived in: was weird he didn’t always have answers for the guy running the show. This was rare how sure he was that he loved the other.

Alastor hinting it may be romantic was far from a bad thing. He was more than glad to have it. Any shape it took he loved the deer, and was thrilled to receive it in turn.

“Yer sweet. I appreciate that.” Value that had often been a verifiable scale of merits and business, truthfully it is nice to hear, especially when he can nuzzle their noses together. Taking a leap in his words. “I love ya too. Every bit as much. Maybe you—”

Angel is cut off with his own yawn before he can continue, “Maybe you c’n have time fa rest too. Plenty of space.”

@a-hazbin-spider ⧐

<3 ARE YOU ALASTOR'S TYPE ASKS.

"The doodles have saved you from overt criticism. And yes, the piglet can stay." As long as Alastor is kept fed in other ways, Fat Nuggets will be safe.

The rest... He can work with.

“Aww, thank you~ For you I can always make more.” He flutters his lashes for mass effect. Not only is he quite happy his silly doodles are appreciated, but The comment on Fat Nuggets is a relief to say the least. He would get into a fist fight with God over his beautiful porcine child.

“I can promise if ya ain’t like any of my nicknames I could change em! But I can’t promise to be intellectual as you are. I left some blank I wasn’t so sure of.” A pink pen is twirled in his hand while he gives a brief affirmation. Huh. How big was he in comparison? Not like he thinks of these things very much, but the only times he’d been without those stripper heels were when he’d been bathed. Being in the over two-meter bracket leaves little room for being smaller than others.

Air hisses through Angel’s teeth as he’s yanked down, a visible shiver running over a taut quivering body. Vox could likely feel his tight heat pulsing and quivering over him. Even stuffing him so deep and hard, his wetness makes it sink in easily, obscenely, lusciously slick. Angel could be embarrassed by this, but instead he’s dropped deep into indulgence, chasing the high of their pleasure. Of the sung praises for him bouncing and working his delightfully sore bottom.

“Fill me- yesss~! Fuck into these guts deep as you want..!” Muscles twitch and quake at the magic of Vox’s hands. Bright claws could easily carve him, puncture through him like taxidermy, and he had strength to match, the tangible yet invisible danger was dizzying, the other man was every bit as dangerous and efficient as a shark in his tanks. It’s feeds a little fucked up part of him that lives off of that thrill. Tantalized by the stinging and pulses of pain, and anticipation of what else it could be.

Meeting the rhythm with the buck of his hips, like he’d been jabbed with an active wire, the spider finds it feels almost as instinctive and involuntary as lit synapses firing off. The overlord’s voice, his effortless ability to make him quake at his hand- Vox hadn’t even needed to use his command over electricity to make him arch, and tense around him so tight.

But he does, the white hot surge overwhelming his senses, turning up the sensations tenfold. His head tosses back in a scream. Painted claws dig into Vox’s shoulders and back, Angel twitching and squeezing, reflexively tensing around the burrowed cock prodding deep into his stomach. He can feel it pushing anything in its way. A whine catches in his throat as his hips grind down, testing just how far it’d go. Predictably, already he’s made quite a wet mess of Vox’s lap, but working to bounce himself and feel the bruising punch of his organs only adds another gush of slick.

Sorry, have a crumpled and late assignment-

@a-hazbin-spider (hiii i should drop in more often. Hope you are well!!)

There is a LOT going on here. Takes him a minute. Also, the neon on pink on cream was KILLING his host's eyeballs, but he was determined. Just had to nudge the sunglasses up and squint a bit.

Lizard blinked at 'I dunno atp' on 'Not-Human'. Bro, you're a demon--wait. This is other Hell. Different classifications. (Though most demons in his were human souls ground up, chewed up, and spit out. The difference was a nuance, okay.) They were more directly human souls in hell. Something to that effect. No chewing. Were Sinners...humans? WERE THEY GLORIFIED FURRIES???

The questions...

He couldn't help asking them. It was baked into his code.

Well. It made sense that he not be human- look at him. But he guessed the demonification of being put in a spiritual meat grinder and made into a sexy little spider had its arguments. So really he just left it up to speculation.

For someone looking at a silly pink fish or- silly faces in place of answers… he is rather generous. Or kind to say the least, by giving benefit to his intelligence.

“Sorry, I just kept- wait huh? Oh. I mean, I s’pose so. I jus’ don’t assume I’m what someone searchin’ fa that is lookin’ for. Or if I’m up to par with tha level of that thing.” He doubts telling him fish trivia counted. And, he might be more emotionally intelligent than like- Vox. But, that was a rich white guy from the fifties, so the bar was on the ground there.

“Most’ve that’s true. But, it ain’t fair to call ya stupid for bein’ tossed at somethin you ain’t had to do before. Vox wouldn’t last a day runnin’ your business right off the bat. I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon enough. Bein’ stubborn just means you don’t quit when it looks shitty.”

Angel didn’t really go to much school- wasn’t an avid reader or good at numbers more than simple situations before hell, he didn’t have a lot of experience leading the way Val did, and often found that his boss was more awe-inspiring than he knew. And that said a lot as he often saw how wonderful he was- clearly Valentino knew he had good going for him. But what seeped underneath his mental floorboards- the insecurity pooling just above the gaps, that wasn’t something Angel could just brush off, mop up- no, despite it all, when Valentino shares his vulnerability, he holds it. Takes it to heart what he’s trusted with. And yet, he also can’t help but to find shock in this, Valentino’s confidence and domineering leadership usually gave him the air of knowing exactly what he was doing.

Vox. Of course it was Vox. He knew that Val and him were close, that he’d been a priority, that there was a certain level above Angel in rank. But he also knew the disdain, the selfishness rearing its head, and the more frequent instances where Vox became a source of pain. Not that he had proper evidence the whole time, but, he saw that twisting and that separation via stretching a line far too thin. It made him sure Vox pushed that inadequacy.

“I know.” Slipping to Valentino’s side, Angel lets his arms soothe over his shoulders and massage on his temples. How Vox got was no secret, and neither was the typically quick forgiveness, and stability setting in. He’d been smack dab in the middle of how Vox gets several times. This one cost him big time. It’d cost Val too, just- differently. In a way that struck a chord, made Angel care almost an embarrassing amount. But. He was never smart either, was he? So that’s not too surprising. “I dunno what ya woulda done, it’s not like what ya sayin’ isn’t normal. It just. Sucks.”

What else can he say? No guarantee normalcy like before would come quickly.

The fact that Angel was still here beside him, comforting him long after his scheduled work hours had ended, made guilt settle heavily in Valentino's stomach. Angel didn't have to stay. By every expectation, he should've walked out the moment he was off the clock. But he hadn't.

Valentino wasn't blind to the hell he put the actor through. As much as he tried to bury those thoughts most days, he knew exactly how much damage he'd caused over the years. He might not be very smart, but he wasn't unaware. Sometimes, if he was being brutally honest with himself, it almost felt like he was testing the limits. Seeing how much he could put Angel through before he finally broke. Before he stopped caring. Before he looked at Valentino with nothing but hatred.

Because maybe that would be easier. If Angel finally gave up on him completely, then Valentino wouldn't have to face what he'd done. He wouldn't have to wrestle with the fact that someone he'd hurt so badly still managed to show him kindness. His weight shifted almost unconsciously as those thoughts circled in his head. Instead of pulling away, Valentino leaned further into Angel's embrace. His shoulders gradually loosened beneath the other's hands, the tension he'd been carrying around all day easing ever so slightly as Angel rubbed at the knots there before working up toward the ache behind his temples.

"...Angie." His voice was quieter now. "I know this isn't gonna fix anything." He stared down at the desk for a long moment before continuing. "But... just so you know... I didn't want him to use you like he did." The admission came slowly, each word carrying more weight than the last. "I told him no from the beginning. But Vox has a way of convincing me to do things I don't wanna do."

It hadn't happened all at once.

It had taken weeks.

Weeks of being worn down by affectionate promises, by endless reassurance, by gifts, compliments, pet names, and conversations that always seemed to circle back to the same request. Every time Valentino refused, Vox found another angle. Another reason. Another way to frame it until the answer became just a little harder to hold onto. Eventually Valentino had sighed and he'd given in.

"He told me it was just gonna be so he could see what Alastor was up to." His jaw tightened. "That was it. Just one thing." A humorless laugh escaped him. "But then he needed you for one more thing. And then one more thing. And then one last thing. It just... kept going." The frustration in his voice wasn't directed at Angel. It wasn't even entirely directed at Vox. Most of it was aimed squarely at himself. "It got out of control." Valentino shook his head slowly.

"I kept telling him enough was enough. I kept saying we needed to stop." His mouth tightened into a thin line. "But when Vox gets like that... he just does whatever the fuck he wants." The words lingered in the room for a moment. Then, after another long silence, Valentino spoke again without lifting his head.

Somewhere underneath all those times he’d bite back angrily, or wail from what felt agonizing, there was a hook twisted deep into his core that was really afraid of what being too broken would be, not being enough for the man he couldn’t hate- because he understood him more than anyone else, and cared so much that it ached. And it wasn’t for no reason.

Within the silence that followed, Angel tried to continue soothing the aches that had fed on the stress that’d accumulated so quickly. Val is the one who breaks that silence, and Angel surrenders his attention immediately.

Angel did think that he was just lent. He did think this was voluntary on Valentino’s part. Especially when being in that state so often had robbed the autonomy to even give a moment’s hesitation- when he had been Valentino’s guard dog he really did think to himself that night that being used like that had been all the evidence he could need that Valentino was just as responsible, just as in on it. At the start, it was meant to be a team plan after all. And Angel? He was practically a spy since Pentious had become an earnest resident. Knowing Valentino was upset about his placement and choices made it easy to think he was finding another way to exert control but. He feels bad thinking that when he sees just how torn up he is.

And then came his apology. Nothing grand or cooed out to try and make him accept it, or have him believe that ‘this time will be different’ so that he’ll give in to a whim. It was raw. Maybe he was a fool, but, he believed it. Believed the regret, the story, the frustration. Ultimately he cared enough to acknowledge Angel’s pain as something that mattered too. Regret for the outcome not being what he wanted was one thing. But it was more than that. The gripping realization of this squeezes his heart.

“I didn’t know.” He starts dumbly, a bit lost for words in the spinning of his mind. Guilt eats slowly on the back burner. . “Thought maybe it w’s jus’ easier, that whatever was done was… maybe that I…”

Deserved it? That whatever had been done was punishment, or simply allowed in the situation. He wants to say something- like ‘it’s okay’. But, it’s not, he knows that it doesn’t actually make it okay. Right? The terror and pain. The sheer helplessness of being trapped in his own body while someone puppeted it and made his head not his own. He’s not magically over it. This was a start though.

The smile that crosses Valentino’s features might’ve been genuine once upon a time. Oh there was mirth behind it, that much was true, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction of feeling the proverbial noose pull taught around Angel’s throat. He believed it as much as Valentino did.

He loved him.

Sashaying his way up behind Angel where he sat. Lower hands gently peeled the spider’s upper hands from their cross to hold, and upper hands coming to rest on shoulders in a gesture learned from Vox.

“Of course I do, amorcito~” One hand slipped from his shoulder to grasp Angel’s face, turning his face to look at him as smoke wafted from Val’s lips.

Idiot. No, no, letting those tears slip meant he lost. Meant he was too soft here. It would mean he’d have to accept that Val’s love may be finite, conditional. Just as one-sided and fantastical as the rest.

Thinking like that is a mistake- of course he did. He just- shouldn’t cry over this, that just makes Val’s day worse. But it’s so… hard. Especially now, feeling a touch that was product of his love for another. Cold. Calculated. Scary.

“I don’t know.” It comes before he can stop it. Unsure, thin. All of him had crumbled, he was damaged and had lost so much. His worth too had taken a serious hit. What did Val even like him for anymore? Was he anything more than a tool for his empire? Merchandise. Property. He can think of whys that’d satisfy, most of them were easier than love.

Slinking a bit closer, he scans the contents of the desk, clearly scattered in frustration. Lines. Numbers. Projections. They are supposed to mean something, he’s sure but, it was a lot different, more than simply just budgets and that kind of shit. So much of these weren’t really tangible. Not like counting through bills.

"I'm not smart," Valentino murmured back to Angel. He appreciated what Angel was trying to do. He knew he was trying to make him feel better, trying to build him back up after everything that had happened. Valentino didn't roll his eyes or brush the compliment aside. He just didn't believe it. "I've never been very smart and I've never really had to be." A quiet shrug lifted one shoulder.

"I'm sexy. I'm funny. I'm..." He paused, searching for another quality before settling on one with a faint, self-deprecating huff. "... stubborn." And for most of his life, that had been enough. His looks opened doors. His charisma kept people's attention. He knew how to read a room, how to charm people, how to make them laugh, how to make them want something from him. Even when he wasn't the smartest person in it, he'd always found another way to come out ahead.

But lately, that confidence had started to crack.

The sirens of his own imposter syndrome had become impossible to ignore, drowning out every success with the persistent feeling that he'd somehow fooled everyone into believing he belonged where he was. "I just want things to go back to normal." The words came out tired more than anything. "I wish Vox hadn't gone so fucking crazy."

His shoulders sagged. "I should've stopped him way before things got this out of hand. I just... didn't know it'd get this bad."

One hand came up to support his head, his elbow resting on the desk. With another, he absently picked at the creased corner of a sheet of paper lying in front of him. His thumb rubbed over the wrinkle several times before carefully smoothing it flat against the desk.

“Most’ve that’s true. But, it ain’t fair to call ya stupid for bein’ tossed at somethin you ain’t had to do before. Vox wouldn’t last a day runnin’ your business right off the bat. I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon enough. Bein’ stubborn just means you don’t quit when it looks shitty.”

Angel didn’t really go to much school- wasn’t an avid reader or good at numbers more than simple situations before hell, he didn’t have a lot of experience leading the way Val did, and often found that his boss was more awe-inspiring than he knew. And that said a lot as he often saw how wonderful he was- clearly Valentino knew he had good going for him. But what seeped underneath his mental floorboards- the insecurity pooling just above the gaps, that wasn’t something Angel could just brush off, mop up- no, despite it all, when Valentino shares his vulnerability, he holds it. Takes it to heart what he’s trusted with. And yet, he also can’t help but to find shock in this, Valentino’s confidence and domineering leadership usually gave him the air of knowing exactly what he was doing.

Vox. Of course it was Vox. He knew that Val and him were close, that he’d been a priority, that there was a certain level above Angel in rank. But he also knew the disdain, the selfishness rearing its head, and the more frequent instances where Vox became a source of pain. Not that he had proper evidence the whole time, but, he saw that twisting and that separation via stretching a line far too thin. It made him sure Vox pushed that inadequacy.

“I know.” Slipping to Valentino’s side, Angel lets his arms soothe over his shoulders and massage on his temples. How Vox got was no secret, and neither was the typically quick forgiveness, and stability setting in. He’d been smack dab in the middle of how Vox gets several times. This one cost him big time. It’d cost Val too, just- differently. In a way that struck a chord, made Angel care almost an embarrassing amount. But. He was never smart either, was he? So that’s not too surprising. “I dunno what ya woulda done, it’s not like what ya sayin’ isn’t normal. It just. Sucks.”

What else can he say? No guarantee normalcy like before would come quickly.