#rxdiostxtic

@rxdiostxtic​ said: “  i know you don’t need my help. but i’m offering it anyway.  ”

     Vaggie eased up in her tensed expression, if only a little bit. The last thing she needed was him of all people to see her weak...but still...he was offering help. Nobody else was. 

Velvet's eyes lifted from her phone to dart from the decrepit building to the radio demon and back, trying to gauge just how serious he was, or if he was trying to bullshit her. Never mind the bastard knew she was close to Val and Vox and they'd never liked each other much, perhaps due to her closeness with Vox, perhaps not. Either way it's not like she cared…

An unimpressed eyebrow rose as her eyes finally settled to meet his, phone finally lowering in disinterest. "You're kidding, right?" Her voice, normally sounding like she was on some sort of sugar rush, was flat and unamused, her usual smile nowhere to be seen.

"Let me get this straight deer boy, you want me to run the social spectrum of this un-instagrammable garbage dump, practically for free, while knowing who I normally work with?"

Never mind she had no intention of getting Vox on her bad side. On the other hand, if there was something in it for her she'd consider it… Especially because having the princess in her debt would be interesting ( and boy doesn't that thought just make her giddy with delight ? ) and it wasn't like she'd be promoting the radio demon, she'd be working for little Charlotte and her pet project. Val and Vox couldn't get angry about that, right?

“Smile, my dear! You know, you’re never fully dressed without one!”  - Alastor, Hazbin Hotel

A brand new, independent, oc friendly, crossover friendly, and minorly selective Alastor of Vivziepop’s already beloved Hazbin Hotel! Heavily headcanon based until more information is released, and lore is expanded upon.

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15 questions about mun’s taste in muses. [ x ]

@rxdiostxtic​ said:

are there any tropes that pull you in or that you realise are reoccuring in your muses?

She could practically feel Alastor’s calculating gaze on her as she pondered his words. It was as if he was trying to see right through her. Right into her very soul. She opened her hand, revealing a small flame as it seemingly danced around her palm.

@rxdiostxtic​

Ah, misery. It ran deep in this man’s psyche, like a stab to the gut. Though not quite broken, he was clearly the product of some other horrific extradimensional being. If Alastor remembered correctly, that wicked, self-proclaimed Eater of Worlds had taken residence on this miserable green and blue planet thousands of years ago. And though not familiar with the entity’s work entirely, Alastor was aware enough to know that their methods of toying with prey were similar. It began with fostering that sense of hopelessness. Pure dread. An inescapable sort of fear that tethered a person to the idea of their own mortality. Though, Alastor, himself, preferred to deal in the more organized chaos of violence and bloodshed to weaken a target, there was something undeniably beautiful about It’s approach.

Well, he hated to step on the toes of a kindred spirit, but this one made for easy prey. Not necessarily his first choice for a potential meal, but one grew peckish…

Nothing left to do but approach, and the fiend did with a bright grin and welcoming tone.

“Oh, but my friend, aren’t you a comedian? A man of jokes? Safe? Pah!” He laughed, tossing his head back briefly, leaning against the rail beside the human. “What fun is there in safe comedy?”

It had been pure chance that had brought Richie back to Derry. Or that’s what he’d thought. It was going to be a quick gig, in and out, just a few days and part of a comedy campaign centered in Maine. Only a couple of days in and the memories had returned, bit by bit, each one more horrifying. The worst was this evening when he had seen something while on stage, and promptly froze. The rest of the show he managed to stumble through, but it was one of his worst shows ever.

Which brought him outside at the back of the building, having a cigarette out in the crisp evening air, muttering to himself. The reply took him by surprise and he nearly inhaled his cigarette. Coughing, he turned to look at the other man.

“You got me there”, he admitted, grateful to have been yanked out of his dark thoughts. The stranger was right, and he was good at finding something to laugh at in dark places, even if it was mostly himself. Because things, things could always get worse. That was the awful, hilarious truth of it. At the moment, however, he was struggling to see how it could be.

Because ITs back.

“Dangerous comedy is the best comedy.” He paused, putting out his cigarette against the brick wall and flicking it into a nearby waste basket. “I’m Richie”, he continued, even though the stranger had already identified him. He didn’t want the lasting impression to be this evening’s terrible show, though. “And you are?”

She is afraid, very afraid.  This was the Radio Demon, Alastor!  The cat demon’s fur bristled as she let out a frightened hiss, then began to ran off.  However, because Black Star was in such a panicked state, she ran head on into the nearby lamppost and fell straight on her ass. Making the scarf tied around her forehead loosen and fall over her eyes.

That is, until Dixie Boy himself steps out of the door to the bar. He wasn’t an Overlord by any stretch of the imagination, but his ruthlessness and penitent for execution were widely known in the surrounding territories. Only those who wanted to die picked a real fight with Dixie Boy and his gang of militiamen. See, Dixie wasn’t content with handling his business himself, no. He’d gone out of his way to train the patrons of the bar in gun-handling as well as other basic soldier skills, like teamwork and first aid. Their skills were vast and so were their technologies,  but he’d trained them all up so that they had all the basic skills of a soldier.

Now, Dixie had plenty of guns at his disposal. He even had a couple of heavy ordinance dispensers (grenade launchers) at his disposal, but he didn’t need any of that. All he needed were his trusty revolvers and his sniper rifle. Whoops and hollers resounded through the bar as Dixie walked into oncoming fire without so much as batting an eye. Time seems to distort for the bartender. He can see bullets leaving the individual guns being fired, and he reacts with ease, bending a leg or tilting his body so that the bullet misses. He even has time to flick one out of the way. However, to the naked eye, it would seem as if Dixie had just become some sort of impossible to hit deity, moving like no other demon should be able to.

There’s a couple of clicks as empty guns fail to fire. Dixie recognizes this sound, grinning maliciously behind his mask as they frantically reload. His revolvers leave their holsters and without so much as a millisecond of hesitation, he’s already dropping bodies, turning and ducking to avoid fire as he deals out death like the Grim Reaper himself. He only stops shooting when his guns are empty. Now it’s time for the real fun.

He breaks into a sprint, leaping up off of a parked car and stomping one particular gunman in the face as he lands, cocking the hammer back and sending one shotgun shell out of his revolver into their face as well. A backup shot in each gun packed some heat for a quick kill at close quarters. How fun!