#silly thoughts

When you’re trying to build a functioning railway in Rocky Ridges, & all you could hear are a pair of train-obsessed twins talking over your shoulder:

🔼 “That is not sufficient room for a safe crossing! The tracks are quite small, I can see that. All the same! Think of the pedestrians! 🔽 “Where is the yellow line? That is not safe. Make one.” 🔼 “OH! That would be an excellent place for a stop! Build one there once you have the means, please & thank you!” 🔽 “I am Emmet. You should plant pretty flowers along the tracks. The Pokémon would smile, yup.” 🔼 “Ahem *low tone* Ansy, if you can prioritize in bringing Chandelure to this station, I would be most pleased.”

So what if Damian develops a crush on Jon, and knowing Jon can hear his heartbeat he tries very hard to keep it calm and steady whenever they meet.

I wanna be the big squishy human caretaker to a smol metal warrior from space who needs somebody to look out for them cause earth is a giant deathworld

they're like the stray cat you wanna bring inside your house when it's raining outside and they look so miserable n cold, and ya just wanna wrap em up in a warm blanket

Smallformers AU is such a fun n cute concept that never fails to suckerpunch me in the feels

Humans are generally very aware of our sizes and strengths when it comes to handling things smaller and more delicate then us, and i feel like we would naturally be more careful and mindful of the bots' fragility, compared to how they typically treat n handle humans in canon.

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Fandom: Hazbin Hotel. Pairing: Alastor x female Reader. Rating: mature. Summary: one drunken night, Alastor lets his mask slip.

🔞 Warnings: vulnerable/drunk Alastor, physical closeness, emotional vulnerability & breakdown, betrayal between close allies, physical violence, tearing flesh/injury, psychological anguish & heartbreak.

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Author’s Note: I wrote this scene imagining the Reader/You in the role of Vox during season 2.

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Alastor was, officially, drunk.

You looked at him with tenderness; it was the only moment when you could show your emotions toward him without him noticing.

“Okay, I’d say we’ve had enough to drink, pal.”

“Ah. Ahah. Ahahah! ‘Pal’… yes, you’re the only one who comes close to that term. Don’t you think?” he said, tilting his head pressed against the counter on your side, looking at you with eyes soaked in alcohol and something resembling cheerfulness.

“I’ll walk you back to your territory,” you said, standing up, your hands hovering in the air. “Can you stand?”

“No… but, you can touch me. I don’t mind if you do, in this context.”

“Damn it, Alastor, how much did you drink?! You smell awful.”

“I let myself go. Your company was impeccable. I needed it.”

His cheeks were slightly flushed. Maybe it was the whiskey in his system.

“I had fun too. I didn’t think you were this funny.”

Alastor turned toward you, loose and strangely flexible.

You wrapped one arm around his waist, your other hand holding his shoulder while he leaned his full weight against you.

“How do you feel?”

“Why do you worry about me?”

“It comes naturally… I worry about everyone, even those who deserve it the least.”

“So it seems… Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“... take me home. I’m tired.”

You weren’t sure what kind of tiredness he meant.

The voices in Hell told many stories about Alastor, and among them… one said he never slept.

The ‘walk’ was short since the bar wasn’t far from his territory.

“Do you have the key?”

“Right pocket.”

“Can you get it?”

“I can’t… coordinate my body. I’m slightly… foggy.”

“Okay, I’ll get it then. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes. I won’t eat you, don’t worry,” he replied, swallowing hard. A strange sound came from his stomach and he shifted, suppressing a gag.

The hand that held his waist slid along the stitched edge of his pants and carefully slipped into the pocket. There you found the key. You immediately withdrew your hand to avoid disturbing Alastor, already in a strange mood because of his drunkenness. You turned the key in the lock and there it was: the radio tower was open.

You wrapped your arms around him again so he wouldn’t fall—he was swaying quite a bit—and you dragged him in. Then, carefully, you laid him down on the bed. You placed a bucket beside it, a glass of water, and some hangover pills on the nightstand. Then you took a damp cloth to press against his forehead for the headache. You also placed a blanket over him after gently removing his foul-smelling jacket.

“Mom… I miss you…” he sighed, a tear forming at the edge of his eye.

Alastor was certainly an intricate figure to untangle.

He would never remember that night.

Your night.

Your conversations.

Not even thinking about his mother.

You sat on the floor beside his bed, waiting for him to fall asleep.

His static hum began to fill the room.

“Alastor? Are you ok? Do you need anything?”

“…”

Silence.

“Yes.”

Silence again.

Alastor opened his eyes.

His abdomen pressed against the mattress.

His hand dangled from the bed.

“Can you stay here? I don’t want you to… leave me,” his voice lacked its usual radio filter.

It was his voice.

Human.

And it was so small compared to the name he carried.

So fragile.

Broken.

Even his face was peaceful, not the usual smiling mask he wore.

“Sure...” you answered hesitantly.

Of course, those words made you feel something strange. But you knew they weren’t truly meant for you. You thought they were meant for his compromised emotional state.

“…thank you, Y/N.”

He lifted his arm, his hand open.

An invitation?

You raised yours as well, accepting. Your palm brushed against his rough one. His fingers closed around yours.

“Can you come here, closer?”

“Wouldn’t you rather I stay here on the floor? I wouldn’t want to… invade your space too much. Tomorrow morning you won’t remember any of this—you might kill me.”

“Don’t be silly… come.”

You stood up, lifting your tired body. Alastor rolled aside to make room for you on the narrow mattress. The bed creaked under your weight. You stayed perched on the edge, keeping some distance from him. Despite that, you were face to face.

His eyes were completely still within yours. His mouth slightly open. You could feel all the warmth radiating from him.

Then Alastor moved.

He shifted his entire body closer to yours. The smell of alcohol filled your nose. His hands took yours. He brushed his nose over them, inhaling your scent. And then, very gently, he kissed each knuckle.

Slowly.

Savoring your soft skin.

Until his breathing grew slow and heavy, and his body fell into a deep sleep he hadn’t known for centuries.

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“Excuses and lies have always been your specialties!” he shouted at you while his strange little demons tore at your clothes and ripped your flesh, even using their serrated teeth.

“I never lied to you, Alastor! I was always by your side when everyone else turned their backs on you! I took care of you—you know that! For what?! You took advantage of me!”

“I never asked you for anything. You chose, of your own free will, to be ‘docile’ with me,” he spat and gritted his teeth, wrinkling his nose and showing his black gums.

“You’re just a bastard! I hate you!”

Your brows arched, your expression twisting into fury and pain. His words pierced deeper into your organs than your fight ever could. His eyes widened in shock, black pools. His pupils lost in that immense, soulless void.

Hate?

How could your sad and complicated relationship have turned into this?Into hatred, violence… a road with no exit. A closeness broken.

The warmth he had shown you, the closeness you had given him… all of it had shattered irreparably, forever.

“You can hate me as much as you want. Just know that I… will not kill you. If you walk these streets, it’s only because I allow it.”